Archer. "You are better to
Henry than any brother could be. Thy love is wonderful, passing the love
of woman."
Mrs. Archer, the widowed mother of an only child, was deeply imbued with
sacred lore. No great reader of general literature, she knew her Bible
from cover to cover, and was much in the habit of expressing herself in
Scriptural language. Her husband had been the Rector of a lonely parish
in Donegal, where for twenty-five years he had taught an unsophisticated
people, "letting his light shine," as his wife expressed it.
One recreation he had: the writing of a Commentary on the Epistle to the
Romans. While he was shut up in his study, little Henry, a mischievous,
wild urchin, had to be kept quiet. Here was field for the full exercise
of Mrs. Archer's ingenuity. As the boy's life went on, she gained an
able assistant in this loving labour, namely Malcolm McGregor, Henry's
school-friend. Malcolm and Henry were sent to Foyle College at the same
time. Mrs. Archer could hardly read for joy the day she expected her
darling home for his first vacation, accompanied by "the jolliest chap
in the school," whom he had begged leave to bring with him.
From the Rectory door the parents could watch the outside car coming
down the steep hill; King William, the Rector's old horse, slipping a
little, and two shabby, hair-covered trunks falling on his back, to be
recovered by Jack Dunn, the man-of-all-work, who could drive on
occasion.
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