A man may be a heretic in the truth; and if he believe things only because his pastor says so, or the assembly so determines, without knowing other reason, though his belief be true, yet the very truth he holds becomes his heresy.--MILTON.--Areopagitica.
At length the expected visitors arrived. Hugh saw nothing of them till they assembled for dinner. Mrs. Elton was a benevolent old lady--not old enough to give in to being old--rather tall, and rather stout, in rich widow-costume, whose depth had been moderated by time. Her kindly grey eyes looked out from a calm face, which seemed to have taken comfort from loving everybody in a mild and moderate fashion. Lady Emily was a slender girl, rather shy, with fair hair, and a pale innocent face. She wore a violet dress, which put out her blue eyes. She showed to no advantage beside the suppressed glow of life which made Euphra look like a tropical twilight--I am aware there is no such thing, but if there were, it would be just like her.
Mrs. Elton seemed to have concentrated the motherhood of her nature, which was her most prominent characteristic, notwithstanding--or perhaps in virtue of--her childlessness, upon Lady Emily. To her Mrs. Elton was solicitously attentive; and she, on her part, received it all sweetly and gratefully, taking no umbrage at being treated as more of an invalid than she was.
Lady Emily ate nothing but chicken, and custard-pudding or rice, all the time she was at Arnstead.
The richer and more seasoned any dish, the more grateful it was to Euphra.
Mr. Arnold was a saddle-of-mutton man.
Hugh preferred roast-beef, but ate anything.
"What sort of a clergyman have you now, Mr. Arnold?" asked Mrs.
Elton, at the dinner-table.
"Oh! a very respectable young gentleman, brother to Sir Richard, who has the gift, you know. A very moderate, excellent clergyman he makes, too!""All! but you know, Lady Emily and I"--here she looked at Lady Emily, who smiled and blushed faintly, "are very dependent on our Sundays, and"--"We all go to church regularly, I assure you, Mrs. Elton; and of course my carriage shall be always at your disposal.""I was in no doubt about either of those things, indeed, Mr. Arnold.
But what sort of a preacher is he?"
"Ah, well! let me see.--What was the subject of his sermon last Sunday, Euphra, my dear?""The devil and all his angels," answered Euphra, with a wicked flash in her eyes.
"Yes, yes; so it was. Oh! I assure you, Mrs. Elton, he is quite a respectable preacher, as well as clergyman. He is an honour to the cloth."Hugh could not help thinking that the tailor should have his due, and that Mr. Arnold gave it him.
"He is no Puseyite either," added Mr. Arnold, seeing but not understanding Mrs. Elton's baffled expression, "though he does preach once a month in his surplice.""I am afraid you will not find him very original, though," said Hugh, wishing to help the old lady.
"Original!" interposed Mr. Arnold. "Really, I am bound to say Idon't know how the remark applies. How is a man to be original on a subject that is all laid down in plain print--to use a vulgar expression--and has been commented upon for eighteen hundred years and more?""Very true, Mr. Arnold," responded Mrs. Elton. "We don't want originality, do we? It is only the gospel we want. Does he preach the gospel?""How can he preach anything else? His text is always out of some part of the Bible.""I am glad to see you hold by the Inspiration of the Scriptures, Mr. Arnold," said Mrs. Elton, chaotically bewildered.
"Good heavens! Madam, what do you mean? Could you for a moment suppose me to be an atheist? Surely you have not become a student of German Neology?" And Mr. Arnold smiled a grim smile.
"Not I, indeed!" protested poor Mrs. Elton, moving uneasily in her seat;--"I quite agree with you, Mr. Arnold.""Then you may take my word for it, that you will hear nothing but what is highly orthodox, and perfectly worthy of a gentleman and a clergyman, from the pulpit of Mr. Penfold. He dined with us only last week."This last assertion was made in an injured tone, just sufficient to curl the tail of the sentence. After which, what was to be said?
Several vain attempts followed, before a new subject was started, sufficiently uninteresting to cause, neither from warmth nor stupidity, any danger of dissension, and quite worthy of being here omitted.
Dinner over, and the ceremony of tea--in Lady Emily's case, milk and water--having been observed, the visitors withdrew.
The next day was Sunday. Lady Emily came down stairs in black, which suited her better. She was a pretty, gentle creature, interesting from her illness, and good, because she knew no evil, except what she heard of from the pulpit. They walked to church, which was at no great distance, along a meadow-path paved with flags, some of them worn through by the heavy shoes of country generations. The church was one of those which are, in some measure, typical of the Church itself; for it was very old, and would have been very beautiful, had it not been all plastered over, and whitened to a smooth uniformity of ugliness--the attempt having been more successful in the case of the type. The open roof had had a French heaven added to it--I mean a ceiling; and the pillars, which, even if they were not carved--though it was impossible to come to a conclusion on that point--must yet have been worn into the beauty of age, had been filled up, and stained with yellow ochre.
