The Rector turned slowly round, and his eyes opened widely now as they fixed themselves upon the countenance of his curate. For a few moments he did not speak, but panted as if his feelings were too much for him. Then, in a voice faltering from emotion, he exclaimed-- "Mr Paulby, you astound me. You, whom I received here with testimonials that were unimpeachable, or I should not have trusted you as I have,--you, a priest of the Church of England, to counsel me to go in direct opposition to her laws!" "I ask you, sir," said the Curate, gently, "to perform, at a suffering father's prayer, the last duties to the dead, over the body of an innocent babe, freshly come from its Maker's hands, freshly there returned." "Sir," exclaimed the Rector, and there was indignation now in his words, "well may the enemies of the Church triumph and point to its decadence, when there are those within the fold who openly, and in the presence of back sliders, counsel their brother priests to disobey the sacred canons of her laws. I feel sure, however, that you have been led away by your feelings, or you would not have spoken so." "Yes," said the Curate, sadly. "I was led away by my feelings." "I knew you were, sir," said the Rector, sternly. "Sir, it was time that a party should arise in the Church, ready and strong, to repair the broken gaps in the hedges, and to protect the sheep. I grieve to find that I have been away too long. I thought, sir, you would have been ready to stand fast in the faith, when assaulted by the worldly-minded who would lead men astray; ready to--" "Forget the dictates of humanity, for the hard and fast laws made by men who lived in the days of persecution, and before the benignant, civilising spread of education had made men to know more fully the meaning of brotherly love." "Sir--" "I beg your pardon, Mr Mallow," said the Curate, whose face was now flushed. "You seem to forget that we do not live now in the days of the faggot and the stake. But, there," he said, gently, "I think you will accede to the wishes of my poor friend." "Sir," said the Rector, "I can only repeat that I am grieved beyond measure at this expression of opinion. What you ask of me is impossible." The wheelwright had listened with growing indignation to these words on either side, and now, flushed and excited, he spoke out. "You will not do this, then, sir?" he said, hoarsely. "You have had my answer, Mr Morrison," was the cold reply, and he walked towards the bell. "Stop, sir--a minute," exclaimed Morrison, panting. "You called me an educated man time back?" The Rector bowed coldly. "You're not right about that, sir; but I have read a little, and so as to behave as a decent man, as I thought, next Sunday, I read through the christening service, and what it says about children who have been baptised dying before they sin being certain to be saved."