CHAPTER XI,

“There stands the Messenger of Truth—there stands The Legate of the skies.” —CowPEr,
FROM that night Lumley found no opportunity for private nversation with Evelyn; she evidently shunned to meet with m alone; she was ever with her mother, or Mrs. Leslie, or the ood curate, who spent much of his time at the cottage; for the ld man had neither wife nor children—he was alone A home -he had learned to make his home with the widow and her laughter. With them he was an object of the tenderest affec- _ tion—of the deepest veneration. Their love delighted him, and he returned it with the fondness of a parent and the benevolence ofa pastor. He was a rare character, that village priest ! Born of humble parentage, Edward Aubrey had early displayed abilities which attracted the notice of a wealthy proprietor, who was not displeased to affect the patron. Young Aubrey was sent to school, and thence to college as sizar: he obtained several prizes, and took a high degree. Aubrey was not without the ambition and the passions of yuth: he went into the world, ardent, inexperienced, and thout a guide. He drew back before errors grew into rimes, or folly became a habit. It was nature and affection reclaimed and saved hin from either alternative—fame ruin, His widowed mother was suddenly stricken with
ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES.
_ disease. Blind and bedridden, her whole dependence was o 7 her only son. This affliction called forth a new character in _ Edward Aubrey. This mother had stripped herself of so many comforts to provide for him—he devoted his youth to her in return. She was now old and imbecile. With the mingled selfishness and sentiment of age, she would not come to London —she would not move from the village where her husband lay
buried—where her youth had been spent. In this village th
able and ambitious young man buried his hopes and his talents;
by degrees the quiet and tranquillity of the country life became dear to him. As steps in a ladder, so piety leads to piety, and . religion grew to hima habit. He took orders and entered the 4 church, A disappointment in love ensued—it left on his mind q and heart a sober and resigned melancholy, which at length s mellowed into content. His profession and its sweet duties, — became more and more dear to him; in the hopes of the next 2 world he forgot the ambition of the present He did not seek
to shine— a
** More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.”
His own birth made the poor his brothers, and their dispositions — and wants familiar to him. His own early errors made him — tolerant to the faults of others; few men are charitable who remember not that they have sinned. In our faults lie the germs of virtues. Thus gradually and serenely had worn away 2 his life—obscure, but useful—calm, but active—a man whom _ “the great prizes” of the church might have rendered an ambitious schemer—to whom a modest confidence gave the true pastoral power—to conquer the world within himself, and _ to sympathise with the wants of others, Yes, he was a rare character, that village priest | ; oe