"Yes, exactly," answered Rachel. "Mr. Delphin was maintaining, in his foolish, superficial way, that the spirit of the time would soon get rid of the evil of war, if we could only have done with kings and priests. You may remember Mr. Martens got quite excited, and insisted that priests were distinctly men of peace, and that their work was the work of peace. And then Mr. Delphin made the adroit answer, that any one who liked could go to church any Sunday, and hear how devoutly this man of peace, Mr. Martens, prays for the arms of the country by land and by sea."
"I remember it very well," answered Johnsen, with a smile; "it was just there I joined in the conversation."
"Yes; you declared that you would never, if you were ordained, mention the arms of the country in your prayers."
"Neither will I; nothing shall ever make me."
Rachel looked at him: he was in just the humour she liked to see him.
"I bring this to your recollection," she went on, "because I know now that there are many other duties which fall to the lot of a clergyman, that you will not be able altogether to reconcile with your convictions. In the course of our conversations you have expressed many decided opinions--for instance, about the Marriage Service, about Absolution, Confirmation, and several other matters; so that it now appears clear to me that you must either give up the idea of being ordained, or else be false to yourself."
"False to myself I cannot be," cried he; "I would rather give up my future prospects."
"But is that sufficient?"
"I don't understand you, Miss Garman."
"Do you think that you would be doing yourself justice by thus evading the responsibility that your convictions give rise to? If I were a man"--Rachel drew herself up--"I would go and seek the conflict, and not shirk it."