"Look behind you, Mr. Armadale," whispered young Pedgift. "I
think the parson's beginning to enjoy himself."
An unwonted briskness--portentous apparently of coming
speech--did certainly at that moment enliven the curate's manner.
He jerked his head from side to side like a bird; he cleared his
throat, and clasped his hands, and looked with a gentle interest
at the company. Getting into spirits seemed, in the case of this
excellent person, to be alarmingly like getting into the pulpit.
"Even in this scene of tranquillity," said the Reverend Samuel,
coming out softly with his first contribution to the society in
the shape of a remark, "the Christian mind--led, so to speak,
from one extreme to another--is forcibly recalled to the unstable
nature of all earthly enjoyments. How if this calm should not
last? How if the winds rose and the waters became agitated?"
"You needn't alarm yourself about that, sir," said young Pedgift;
"June's the fine season here--and you can swim."
Mrs. Pentecost (mesmerically affected, in all probability, by the
near neighborhood of her son) opened her eyes suddenly and asked,
with her customary eagerness.
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