Chapter XXV
When lovely woman stoops to folly.
And finds too late that men betray
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Vicar of Wakefield.
Julian Avenel saw with surprise the demeanour of the reverend stranger. 'Beshrew me,' he said, 'these new-fashioned religioners have fast-days, I warrant me; the old ones used to confer these blessings chiefly on the laity.'
'We acknowledge no such rule,' said the preacher—'We hold that our faith consists not in using or abstaining from special meats on special days; and in fasting we rend our hearts, and not our garments.'
'The better—the better for yourselves, and the worse for Tom Tailor,' said the baron; 'but come, sit down, or, if thou needs must e'en give us a cast of thy office, mutter thy charm.'
'Sir baron,' said the preacher, 'I am in a strange land, where neither mine office nor my doctrine are known, and where, it would seem, both are greatly misunderstood. It is my duty so to bear me, that in my person, however unworthy, my Master's dignity may be respected, and that sin may take not confidence from relaxation of the bonds of discipline.'
'Ho la! halt there,' said the baron; 'thou wert sent hither for thy safety, but not, I think, to preach to me, or control me. What is it thou wouldst have, sir preacher? Remember thou speakest to one somewhat short of patience, who loves a short health and a long draught.'
'In a word, then,' said Henry Warden, 'that lady'
'How?' said the baron, starting—'what of her? what hast thou to say of that dame?'
'Is she thy house-dame?' said the preacher, after a moment's pause, in which he seemed to seek for the best mode of expressing what he had to say—'Is she, in brief, thy wife?'
The unfortunate young woman pressed both her hands on her face as if to hide it, but the deep blush which crimsoned her brow and neck, showed that her cheeks were also
