“Indeed I think so--but what?” he answered. “I wish you would show me what I ought to do! Let me see it, and I will do it.” She was silent for a moment. “Couldn't you preach at her?” she said, with a laugh in which was an odd mingling of doubt and merriment. “I have always thought that a mean thing, and have never done it--except by dwelling on broadest principles. That an evil principle has an advocate present, is no reason for sparing it: what am I there for? But to preach that the many may turn on the one--that I never could do!” “This case is different from any other. The wrong is done continuously, in the very eyes of the congregation, and for the sake of its being seen,” Mrs. Wingfold answered. “Neither would you be the assailant; you would but accept, not give the challenge. For I don't know how many Sundays, she has been pitting her position in the pew against yours in the pulpit! Believing it out of your power to do anything, she flaunts her French novel in your face; and those that can't see her, see her yellow novel in your eyes, and think about her and you, instead of the things you are saying to them! For the sake of the work given you, for the sake of your influence with the people, you must do something!” “It is God she defies, not me.” “I think she defies you to say an honest word on his behalf. Your silence must seem to her an acknowledgment that she is right.” “That cannot be, after what I have said to her more than once in her own house.” “Then at least she must think that either you have no authority to drive from the little temple one of the cows of Bashan, or are afraid of her horns.” “Quite right, Nelly!” cried the rector; “you are quite right. Only you don't give me a hint what to do!” “Am I not saying as plain as I can that you must preach at her?” “H'm! I didn't expect that of you!” “No; for if you could have expected it of me, you would have thought of it yourself! But just think! A public scandal requires public treatment. You will not be dragging her before the people; she has put herself there! She is brazen, and must be treated as brazen--set in the full glare of opinion. And I think, if I were a clergyman, I should know how to do it!” Wingfold was silent. She must be right! Something glimmered before him--something possible--he could not see plainly what. “It is all very well to make such a clamour about her boy,” continued his wife, “but every one knows that she quarrelled with him dreadfully--that for days at a time they would be cat and dog with each other. Her animal instinct lasted it out, and she did not come to hate him; but I can't help thinking it must have been in a great measure because her husband favoured the other that she took up this one with such passion. I have been told she would abuse him in language not fit to repeat, the little wretch answering her back, and choking with rage that he could not tear her.” “Who told you?” asked the parson. “I would rather not say.”