"But He could never have meant that other people were to keep them poor," replied Nora, her cheek flushing. "And you know He told the young man 'to sell all his goods and give to the poor.'"
"Ah, but that was only in one case! He wanted to try him,—test whether he really loved his neighbor as himself, as he thought he did."
"And don't you think there are many people who need the same test, now?" Nora could not help replying.
"Oh, certainly, certainly;" he replied, dreamily; "but it seems to me you are forgetting to enjoy your luncheon. Let me help you to some of this delicious cream."
Nora could see very well that the subject they had been discussing only bored the clergyman, so she dropped it; listening, however, as well as she could, through intervening droppings of talk, to a discussion that Mr. Wharton and Miss Harley were carrying on, as to the differences of aspect presented by the labor question in England and in America. And she could not help wondering again and again, as she surveyed the luncheon-table, profusely supplied with expensive delicacies, whether that same Lord who had bidden the rich young man "sell all that he had and give to the poor," might not have had something to say to people who "had fared sumptuously every day," while Lazarus starved at their gates. And then, with a fastidious sense of honor, she checked a thought that seemed like ungenerous treachery to her hospitable entertainers. Only,—if poor Lizzie Mason could have had a share of the superfluous luxury, how good it would have been for her!
Mr. Chillingworth, too, both puzzled and disappointed her. His eloquent altruistic appeals—his exaltation of the high Christian ideal—so stirred her enthusiastic nature that she felt herself irresistibly drawn toward the man who could so well express the idealism of Christianity. But, out of the pulpit—when it came to the practical application of his own principles—he often brought her up short in wonder at what she felt to be the inconsistency of his remarks about the details of ordinary life. There seemed to her a strange gap between the glowing enthusiasm on the one side, and a chilling narrowness and lack of sympathy on the other. Like an electrical influence under different conditions, he sometimes attracted and sometimes repelled her. When she compared him with Mr. Alden, she felt the great difference, though she could not analyze it. Briefly put, however, the main differences were these: it was not that Mr. Chillingworth was insincere; he was as sincere, in his own way, as Mr. Alden. But to his conception, religion consisted mainly in emotion—in a high-strung ideality, and in adoration of the supreme, Infinite Love. To Mr. Alden on the other hand, religion, though winged by emotion, must have its solid basis in obedience—righteousness—the service of God manifesting itself in the service of man. To Mr. Chillingworth—a natural egoist—a clergyman was primarily a "ruler" of the flock, though its shepherd as well. To Mr. Alden, long sitting at his Master's feet had taught the lesson that the minister must be—if the leader—also the "servant of all." Mr. Chillingworth could sympathize only with what harmonized with his own ideals and opinions. Mr. Alden, though himself a man of strong convictions, could adopt the heathen poet's declaration, that nothing that concerned humanity was alien to him. In a word, Mr. Chillingworth was an ecclesiastic; Mr. Alden was, or sought to be, in all things, a simple follower of Christ. Which view was the more in accordance with the New Testament ideal, each must decide for himself.
Nora was feeling these differences dimly in her own mind, with a vague sense of pain and disappointment that she scarcely cared to admit, when Mr. Chillingworth turned to her with his most persuasive air, saying that he had a great favor to ask. "But I know your generosity," he added, "so I don't think you will refuse!" Nora, smiling, waited to hear what it was.
"One of the members of our quartette has been laid up with a severe cold, and I fear it is out of the question that she can take her part at our Christmas evening Service of Song. I don't very well see how we are to replace her, unless—a certain kind friend of mine will come to my help!"
His voice was soft and low, as he could make it when he chose, and his eyes sought Miss Blanchard's with even more persuasive earnestness than the occasion seemed to call for. She colored, turned her eyes away, and replied, in a tone as low as his, that she was very sorry—but it was impossible. She had promised to sing at Mr. Alden's "Helping Hands" entertainment, on Christmas evening.
Mr. Chillingworth looked more annoyed than she had ever seen him look before.