yet who can deny her praise for fidelity to her own
convictions? When we read of those who have massacred
and tortured their opponents in religion, have boiled
alive the unfortunates who have differed from themselves
as to the meaning of an unintelligible word or two,
have vigorously torn the entrails out of those who
have been pious with a piety different from their
own, how shall we dare to say that they should be
punished for their fidelity? Mrs. Bolton spent
much of that afternoon with her knees on the hard boards,—thinking
that a hassock would have taken something from the
sanctity of the action,—wrestling for her
child in prayer. And she told herself that her
prayer had been heard. She got up more than ever
assured that she must not touch pitch lest she should
be defiled. Let us pray for what we will with
earnestness,—though it be for the destruction
of half of a world,—we are sure to think
that our prayers have been heard.
The New Heir
Things went on smoothly at Folking, or with apparent
smoothness, for three months, during which John Caldigate
surprised both his friends and his enemies by the
exemplary manner in which he fulfilled his duties as
a parish squire. He was put on the commission,
and was in the way to become the most active Justice
of the Peace in those parts. He made himself
intimate with all the tenants, and was almost worshipped
by Mr. Ralph Holt, his nearest neighbour, to whose
judgment he submitted himself in all agricultural
matters. He shot a little, but moderately, having
no inclination to foster what is called a head of game.
And he went to church very regularly, having renewed
his intimacy with Mr. Bromley, the parson, a gentleman
who had unfortunately found it necessary to quarrel
with the old squire, because the old squire had been
so manifestly a pagan.
There had been unhappiness in the parish on this head,
and, especially, unhappiness to Mr. Bromley, who was
a good man. That Mr. Caldigate should be what
he called a pagan had been represented by Mr. Bromley
to his friends as a great misfortune, and especially
a misfortune to the squire himself. But he would
have ignored that in regard to social life,—so
Mr. Bromley said when discussing the matter,—if
the pagan would have desisted from arguing the subject.
But when Mr. Caldigate insisted on the parson owning
the unreasonableness of his own belief, and called
upon him to confess himself to be either a fool or
a hypocrite, then the parson found himself constrained
to drop all further intercourse. ‘It is
the way with all priests,’ said the old squire
triumphantly to the first man he could get to hear
him. ’The moment you disagree with them
they become your enemies at once, and would straightway
kill you if they had the power.’ He probably
did not know how very disagreeable he had made himself
to the poor clergyman.
