Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
The moment her head was on her pillow the great fight began--on that
only battle-field of which all others are but outer types and pictures,
upon which the thoughts of the same spirit are the combatants, accusing
and excusing one another.
She had done her duty, but what a remorseless thing that duty was! She
did not, she could not, repent that she had done it, but her heart WOULD
complain that she had had it to do. To her, as to Hamlet, it was a
cursed spite. She had not yet learned the mystery of her relation to the
Eternal, whose nature in his children it is that first shows itself in
the feeling of duty. Her religion had not as yet been shaken, to test
whether it was of the things that remain or of those that pass. It is
easy for a simple nature to hold by what it has been taught, so long as
out of that faith springs no demand of bitter obedience; but when the
very hiding place of life begins to be laid bare under the scalpel of
the law, when the heart must forego its love, when conscience seems at
war with kindness, and duty at strife with reason, then most good
people, let their devotion to what they call their religion be what it
may, prove themselves, although generally without recognising the fact,
very much of pagans after all. And good reason why! For are they not
devoted to their church or their religion tenfold more than to the
living Love, the father of their spirits? and what else is that, be the
church or religion what it will, but paganism? Gentle and strong at once
as Dorothy was, she was not yet capable of knowing that, however like it
may look to a hardship, no duty can be other than a privilege. Nor was
it any wonder if she did not perceive that she was already rewarded for
the doing of the painful task, at the memory of which her heart ached
and rebelled, by the fresh outburst in that same troubled heart of the
half-choked spring of her love to the playmate of her childhood. Had it
fallen, as she would have judged so much fairer, to some one else of the
many in the populous place to defeat Richard's intent and secure his
person, she would have both suffered and loved less. The love, I repeat,
was the reward of the duty done.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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