The Hallam Succession. Amelia E. Barr

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      “You are come into deep waters, Martha.”

      “Ay, I am; but there’s One on t’ water wi’ me. I hev his hand, and he’s none going to let me sink. And good-night to you, dearies, now; for I want to be alone wi’ him. He isn’t far off; you can tak’ t’ word of a sorrowful woman that he lets himsen be found, if nobbut you’re i’ earnest seeking him.”

      She turned from them, and seated herself before her lonely hearthstone, and Phyllis saw her glance upward at the four words, that even in the darkest night was clear to her—“In God we trust.”

      “Martha used to be so curious, so gossippy, so well acquainted with all her neighbors, so anxious for their good opinion, that it strikes me as singular,” said Elizabeth, “that she seems to have forgotten the whole village, and to be careless as to its verdict. Does sorrow make us indifferent, I wonder?”

      “No, I think not; but the happy look at things upon their own level—the earth-level; the sorrowful look up.”

      Not far from Martha’s garden gate they met the Methodist preacher. He was going to see Martha, but hearing of her wish to be alone, he turned and walked with Phyllis and Elizabeth toward the park. He was a little man, with an unworldly air, and very clear truthful eyes. People came to their cottage doors and looked curiously at the trio, as they went slowly toward the hall, the preacher between the girls, and talking earnestly to them.

      “Well I nivver!” said old Peggy Howarth, nodding her head wisely, “what does ta think o’ that, Jane Sykes?”

      “It beats ivery thing! There’s Ezra Dixon. He’s on his way to a class-meeting, I’ll lay thee owt ta likes; Ezra!”

      “Well, woman! What does ta want?”

      “Does ta see Miss Hallam and that American lass wi’ t’ preacher?”

      “For sure I do. They’re in varry good company.”

      “They’ll hev been at Martha Cravens, depend on’t. They say Martha taks it varry quiet like.”

      “Ay, she’s none o’ them as whimpers and whines. Now if it wer’ thee, Peggy, thou’d worrit, and better worrit; as if worritting wer’ thy trade, and thou hed to work at it for thy victuals. Martha’s none like that. Is ta going to thy class to-night?”

      “Nay, then, I’m not going.”

      “I’d go if I was thee, Peggy. Thou’lt hev thysen to talk about there, and thou’lt not be tempted to say things about t’ Cravens thou wont be able to stand up to.”

      “I’d hev some human nature in me, Ezra Dixon, if I was thee. To think o’ this being t’ first murder as iver was i’ Hallam! and thou talking as if I ought to buckle up my tongue about it.”

      “Thou ought; but ‘oughts’ stand for nothing. To be sure thou’ll talk about it; but go and talk i’ thy class-meeting wi’ Josiah Banks looking i’ thy face, and then thou’ll talk wi’ a kind heart. Do as I tell thee.”

      “Nay, I’ll not do it.”

      “Thou nivver will disappoint t’ devil, Peggy.”

      Peggy did not answer; she was too much interested in the rector’s proceedings. He was actually crossing the road and joining the ladies and the preacher.

      “Now, then! Dost ta see that, Ezra? Whativer’s coming to folk? Why-a! They’re a’ going on together!”

      “Why not? T’ rector’s a varry good man. It ‘ud be strange if he didn’t feel for poor Martha as well as ivery other kind heart. Her trouble hes made a’ maks o’ Christians feel together.”

      “If Martha was nobbut a Church o’ England woman.”

      “Dost ta really think that t’ rector is cut on that sort o’ a pattern? Not he. A man may be a Christian, Peggy, even if he isn’t a Wesleyan Methody. Them’s my principles, and I’m not a bit ‘shamed o’ them.”

      It was quite true; the rector had joined the girls and the preacher, and they walked on together as far as the park gates, talking of Martha and her great sorrow and great faith. Then the preacher turned back, carrying with him to his little chapel the strength that comes from real Christian sympathy and communion.

      “What clear prophetic eyes that Mr. North has,” said the rector, as they walked thoughtfully under the green arches of the elms.

      “He lives very near to the other world,” said Phyllis; “I think his eyes have got that clear far-off look with habitually gazing into eternity. It is a great privilege to talk to him, for one always feels that he is just from the presence of God.”

      “I have heard that you are a Dissenter, Miss Fontaine.”

      “O no, I am not. I am a Methodist.”

      “That is what I meant.”

      “But the two are not the same. I am quite sure that the line between Dissent and Methodism has been well defined from the beginning.”

      The rector smiled tolerantly down at Phyllis’s bright thoughtful face, and said: “Do young ladies in America study theological history?”

      “I think most of them like to understand the foundation upon which their spiritual faith is built. I have found every side study of Methodism very interesting. Methodism is a more charitable and a more spiritual thing than Dissent.”

      “Are you sure of that?”

      “Yes. Dissenters began every-where with showing how fallen was the Church, how unworthy were her ministers; but Methodism began every-where with showing her hearers how fallen they themselves were, and how utterly unworthy. Dissent was convinced that Episcopacy was wrong; Methodism sprang from a sense of personal guilt. Dissent discussed schemes of church government, as if the salvation of the world depended upon certain forms; Methodism had one object, to save souls and inculcate personal holiness. Dissent boldly separated herself from the Church; Methodism clung with loving affection to her mother. Her separation was gradual, and accompanied with fond regrets.”

      “I like that reasoning, Miss Fontaine.”

      “Do not give me credit for it; it comes from those who have authority to speak upon such matters. But ought not a young lady to know as much about the origin and constitution of her Church as of her country?”

      “I suppose she ought. What do you say, Miss Hallam?”

      “That I will begin and study the history of my Church. I am ashamed to say I know nothing about it.”

      “And I say that I will look into Methodism a little. John Wesley, as a man, has always possessed a great attraction to me. It was a pity he left the Church.”

      “But he never did leave it. Just as St. Peter and St. Paul and St. John went up to the temple at Jerusalem to pray, so Wesley, until the very last, frequented the Church ordinances. I think he was really a very High-Churchman. He was even prejudiced against Presbyterians; and a very careless reader of his СКАЧАТЬ