"You could not understand it all, if I told you--my anxiety, for yearspast, to know whether I had any right to hold my living--my efforts toquench my smouldering doubts by the authority of the Church. Oh!
Margaret, how I love the holy Church from which I am to be shut out!"
He could not go on for a moment or two. Margaret could not tell whatto say; it seemed to her as terribly mysterious as if her father were aboutto turn Mahometan.
"I have been reading to-day of the two thousand who were ejected fromtheir churches,"--continued Mr. Hale, smiling faintly,--"trying to stealsome of their bravery; but it is of no use--no use--I cannot help feelingit acutely."
"But, papa, have you well considered? Oh! it seems so terrible, soshocking," said Margaret, suddenly bursting into tears. The one staidfoundation of her home, of her idea of her beloved father, seemedreeling and rocking. What could she say? What was to be done? Thesight of her distress made Mr. Hale nerve himself, in order to try andcomfort her. He swallowed down the dry choking sobs which had beenheaving up from his heart hitherto, and going to his bookcase he tookdown a volume, which he had often been reading lately, and fromwhich he thought he had derived strength to enter upon the course inwhich he was now embarked.
"Listen, dear Margaret," said he, putting one arm round her waist. Shetook his hand in hers and grasped it tight, but she could not lift up herhead; nor indeed could she attend to what he read, so great was herinternal agitation.
"This is the soliloquy of one who was once a clergyman in a countryparish, like me; it was written by a Mr. Oldfield, minister of Carsington,in Derbyshire, a hundred and sixty years ago, or more. His trials areover. He fought the good fight." These last two sentences he spoke low,as if to himself. Then he read aloud,-"
When thou canst no longer continue in thy work without dishonour toGod, discredit to religion, foregoing thy integrity, woundingconscience, spoiling thy peace, and hazarding the loss of thy salvation;in a word, when the conditions upon which thou must continue (if thouwilt continue) in thy employments are sinful, and unwarranted by theword of God, thou mayest, yea, thou must believe that God will turn thyvery silence, suspension, deprivation, and laying aside, to His glory,and the advancement of the Gospel"s interest. When God will not usethee in one kind, yet He will in another. A soul that desires to serve andhonour Him shall never want opportunity to do it; nor must thou solimit the Holy One of Israel as to think He hath but one way in whichHe can glorify Himself by thee. He can do it by thy silence as well asby thy preaching; thy laying aside as well as thy continuance in thywork. It is not pretence of doing God the greatest service, or performingthe weightiest duty, that will excuse the least sin, though that sincapacitated or gave us the opportunity for doing that duty. Thou wilthave little thanks, 0 my soul! if, when thou art charged with corruptingGod"s worship, falsifying thy vows, thou pretendest a necessity for it inorder to a continuance in the ministry.
As he read this, and glanced at much more which he did not read, hegained resolution for himself, and felt as if he too could be brave andfirm in doing what he believed to be right; but as he ceased he heardMargaret"s low convulsive sob; and his courage sank down under thekeen sense of suffering.
"Margaret, dear!" said he, drawing her closer, "think of the early martyrs;think of the thousands who have suffered."
"But, father," said she, suddenly lifting up her flushed, tear-wet face, "theearly martyrs suffered for the truth, while you--oh! dear, dear papa!"
"I suffer for conscience" sake, my child," said he, with a dignity that wasonly tremulous from the acute sensitiveness of his character; "I must dowhat my conscience bids. I have borne long with self-reproach thatwould have roused any mind less torpid and cowardly than mine." Heshook his head as he went on. "Your poor mother"s fond wish, gratifiedat last in the mocking way in which over-fond wishes are too oftenfulfilled--Sodom apples as they are--has brought on this crisis, forwhich I ought to be, and I hope I am thankful. It is not a month sincethe bishop offered me another living; if I had accepted it, I should havehad to make a fresh declaration of conformity to the Liturgy at myinstitution. Margaret, I tried to do it; I tried to content myself withsimply refusing the additional preferment, and stopping quietly here,-stranglingmy conscience now, as I had strained it before. God forgiveme!"
He rose and walked up and down the room, speaking low words of self-reproach and humiliation, of which Margaret was thankful to hear butfew. At last he said,"Margaret, I return to the old sad burden we must leave Helstone."
"Yes! I see. But when?"
"I have written to the bishop--I dare say I have told you so, but I forgetthings just now," said Mr. Hale, collapsing into his depressed manner assoon as he came to talk of hard matter-of-fact details, "informing him ofmy intention to resign this vicarage. He has been most kind; he has usedarguments and expostulations, all in vain--in vain. They are but what Ihave tried upon myself, without avail. I shall have to take my deed ofresignation, and wait upon the bishop myself, to bid him farewell. Thatwill be a trial, but worse, far worse, will be the parting from my dearpeople. There is a curate appointed to read prayers--a Mr. Brown. Hewill come to stay with us to-morrow. Next Sunday I preach my farewellsermon."
Was it to be so sudden then? thought Margaret; and yet perhaps it wasas well. Lingering would only add stings to the pain; it was better to bestunned into numbness by hearing of all these arrangements, whichseemed to be nearly completed before she had been told. "What doesmamma say?" asked she, with a deep sigh.
To her surprise, her father began to walk about again before heanswered. At length he stopped and replied:
