England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Poets -- Fiction; Sisters -- Fiction
Birdwood looked round the lawn, seeming to imply that, such was Guy's
liberty of behavior, he half expected to see it floating on the
lily-pond.
"Where is it, then?" he asked.
Guy took him through the paddock to where the canoe lay on the
mill-stream.
"Handy little weapon," Birdwood commented.
"Well, I'll see you later, I expect," said Guy, embarking again. "I'm
coming to breakfast at the Rectory."
"Yes, sir," the gardener answered, cheerfully. "In about another hour
and a half I shall be looking for the eggs."
Guy waved his hand and shot out into midstream, where he drifted idly.
Should he go to church this morning? Pauline must have wanted him to
come, or she would not have told him in her note that she was going.
They had never discussed the question of religion. Tacitly he had let it
be supposed he believed in her simple creed, and he knew his appearance
of faith had given pleasure to the family as well as to Pauline
herself. Was he being very honest with her or with them? Certainly when
he knelt at the back of the church and saw Pauline as he had seen her on
Easter Day, it was not hard to believe in divinity. But he did not carry
away Pauline's faith to cheer his own secret hours. The thought of
herself was always with him, but her faith remained as a kind of vision
upon which he was privileged to gaze on those occasions when, as it
were, she made of it a public confession. Had he really any right to
intrude upon such sanctities as hers would be to-day? No doubt every
birthday morning she went to church, and the strangeness of his presence
seemed almost an unhallowing of such rites. Even to attend her birthday
breakfast began to appear unjustifiable, as he thought of all the
birthday breakfasts that for so many years had passed by without him and
without any idea of there ever being any necessity for him. No doubt
this morning he, miserable and unworthy skeptic, would be dowered with
the half of her prayers, and in that consciousness could he bear to
accept them, kneeling at the back of the church, unless he believed
utterly they were sanctified by something more than her own maidenhood?
Yet if he did not go to church Pauline would be disappointed, because
she would surely expect him. She would be like the blessed damozel
leaning out from the gold bar of Heaven and weeping because he did not
come. There was no gain from honesty, if she were made miserable by it.
It were better a thousand times he should kneel humbly at the back of
the church and pray for the faith that was hers. And why could he not
believe as she believed? If her faith were true, he suffered from
injustice by having no grace accorded to him. Or did there indeed lie
between him and her the impassable golden bar of Heaven? A cloud swept
across the morning sun, and Guy shivered. Then the church-bell began to
clang and, urging his canoe towards the churchyard, he jumped ashore and
knelt at the back of the church.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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