The Draytons and the Davenants : $b A story of the Civil WarsCharles, Elizabeth Rundle
History
The Draytons and the Davenants : $b A story of the Civil Wars
Charles, Elizabeth Rundle
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
I was starting full of glee when the sight of Aunt Dorothy, spinning
silently in the hall as we passed the door, with Placidia beside her,
threw a little shadow over my contentment. Aunt Dorothy so
completely represented to me the majesty of law, and at the bottom of
our hearts both Roger and I so trusted and honored her, that in spite
even of my Father's sanction, something of misgiving troubled me at
the sight of her grave face. With a sudden impulse I ran back, and,
standing before her, said--
"Aunt Dorothy, you are not angry? I shall not dance, only look, and
soon be at home again, and all will go on the same as ever."
She shook her head, but more sorrowfully than angrily.
"Eve only looked," said she, "but nothing went on the same evermore."
At that moment my father came back to seek me, and, catching Aunt
Dorothy's last words, he said kindly but gravely, "Do not let us
trouble the child's conscience with our scruples. It is a serious
danger to force our scruples on others. When experience of their own
peculiar weaknesses and besetments has led them to scruple at things
for themselves, it is another matter. But to add to God's laws is
almost as tremendous a mistake as to subtract from them. Our
additions, moreover, are sure to end in subtractions in some other
direction. Indifferent things done with a guilty conscience lead to
guilty things done with an indifferent conscience. In inventing
imaginary sins you create real sinners."
"Well, brother, it is as you please," said Aunt Dorothy, "but I
should have thought our new parson reading from that blasphemous
'Book of Sports' from the pulpit, commanding the people to dance
around the May-poles on the Sabbath afternoons, was enough to turn
any serious person against them."
"Nay; that is exactly one of the strongest reasons why I go to-day,"
said my father. "I go to show that it is not the May-poles we
scruple at, but the cruel robbing of the poor by the desecration of
the day given them by God for higher things."
And he led me away. But my free, innocent gladsomeness was gone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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