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. But it owed most of its sweetness to his dentist.

— Eleven —

The Parson’s Parable

Wingfold left Wylder Hall wondering what could be done for the woman. What was his part, as parson of the parish, with regard to her behaviour in church? Was he called upon to take public notice of her defiance to God? The creator’s discipline did not suit her, 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 glimmering suspicion that she was poor, angry, miserable, blind, and naked, she might have allowed God some room to show himself. But she was as 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!

It may seem incredible that one like Mrs. Wylder could believe in God and yet defy him. But it is one thing to believe in a god—it is quite another to believe in God! Every time we grumble at our fate, every time we are displeased, hurt, resentful at this or that which comes to us, every time we do not receive the suffering sent us, “with both hands,” as William Law says, we are of the same spirit with this half-crazy woman. In some fashion, and that a real one, she must have believed in the God against whom she urged her complaint. And it is rather to her praise that, like Job, she did it openly, and not with mere base grumblings in her heart at her fireside. It is mean to believe half-way, to believe in words, and in action deny.