Sir Wilton was incapable, however, of taking any active
interest in the matter. The well-being of his
family, when he himself should be out of the way,
did not much affect him. Nothing but his lower
nature had ever roused him to action of any kind.
How far the idea of betterment had ever shown itself
to him, God only knows. Apparently, he was a child
of the evil one, whom nothing but the furnace could
cleanse. Almost the only thing he could now imagine
giving him vivid pleasure, was to see his wife thoroughly
annoyed.
All he had ever had of the manners of a gentleman,
remained with him. He was courteous to ladies,
never swore in their presence—except sometimes
in a mutter at his wife, and could upon occasion show
a kindness that cost him nothing. Humanity was
not all dead out of him; neither was there a purely
human thought in him. On Barbara he smiled his
sweetest smile: it owed most of its sweetness
to the dentist.
THE PARSON’S PARABLE.
Mr. Wingfold went as he had come, thoughtful even
to trouble. What was to be done for the woman?
What was his part, as parson of the parish, with regard
to her behaviour in church? Was it or was it not
his part to take public notice of what she intended,
if not as a defiance to God, at least as an open expression
of her bitter resentment of his dealing with her?
The creator’s discipline did not suit his creature’s
taste, and she would let him know it: whether
it suited her necessities, she did not ask or care;
she knew nothing of her necessities—only
of her desires. Had she had a suspicion that
she was an eternal creature, poor as well as miserable,
blind and naked as well as bereaved and angry, she
might have allowed some room for God to show himself
right. But she was ignorant of herself as any
savage. Was Wingfold to take her insolence in
church as a thing done to himself, which he must endure
with patience? or, putting himself out of the question,
and regarding her conduct only as a protest against
the ways of God with her, must he leave reproof as
well as vengeance to the Lord? Was it his business,
or was it not, to rebuke her, and make his rebuke
as open as her offence? It troubled him almost
beyond bearing to think that some of his flock might
imagine that the great lady of the parish was allowed
to behave herself unseemly, where another would be
exposed to shame. But how abhorrent to him was
a public contention in the church, and on the Lord’s
day! Mrs. Wylder was just the woman to challenge
forcible expulsion, and make the circumstances of it
as flagrant as possible! She might even use both
pistol and whip! What better opportunity could
she find for giving point to her appeal against God!
A man might, in the rage of disappointment, cry out
that there could be no God where baffle met the holiest
instinct—that blundering chance must rule;
he might, illogical with grief, declare that as God
