Dr. Shrapnel appeared most placable. He was gazing at his Authority in
the heavens, tangled among gold clouds and purple; his head bent
acutely on one side, and his eyes upturned in dim speculation. His
great feet planted on their heels faced him, suggesting the stocks; his
arms hung loose. Full many a hero of the alehouse, anciently amenable
to leg-and-foot imprisonment in the grip of the parish, has presented
as respectable an air. His forelock straggled as it willed.
Rosamund rose abruptly as soon as the terminating notes of the Mass had
been struck.
Dr. Shrapnel seemed to be concluding his devotions before he followed
her example.
“There, ma’am, you have a telegraphic system for the soul,” he said.
“It is harder work to travel from this place to this” (he pointed at
ear and breast) “than from here to yonder” (a similar indication
traversed the distance between earth and sun). “Man’s aim has hitherto
been to keep men from having a soul for _this_ world: he takes it for
something infernal. He?—I mean, they that hold power. They shudder to
think the conservatism of the earth will be shaken by a change; they
dread they won’t get men with souls to fetch and carry, dig, root,
mine, for them. Right!—what then? Digging and mining will be done; so
will harping and singing. But _then_ we have a natural optimacy! Then,
on the one hand, we whip the man-beast and the man-sloth; on the other,
we seize that old fatted iniquity—that tyrant! that tempter! that
legitimated swindler cursed of Christ! that palpable Satan whose name
is Capital! by the neck, and have him disgorging within three gasps of
his life. He is the villain! Let him live, for he too comes of blood
and bone. He shall not grind the faces of the poor and helpless—that’s
all.”
The comicality of her having such remarks addressed to her provoked a
smile on Rosamund’s lips.
“Don’t go at him like Samson blind,” said Mr. Lydiard; and Miss Denham,
who had returned, begged her guardian to entreat the guest to stay.
She said in an undertone, “I am very anxious you should see Captain
Beauchamp, madam.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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