"But they rejected Christ himself when he was among them," ventured Bethany.
"Yes," answered Mr. Marion, "it was like the old story of the man with a muck rake. Do you remember that picture that was shown to Christian at the interpreter's house in 'Pilgrim's Progress?' As a nation, Israel had stooped so much to the gathering of dry traditions, had bent so long over the minute letter of the law, that it could not straighten itself to take the crown held out to it. It could not even lift its eyes to discern that there was a crown just over its head."
"It always made me think of the blind Samson," said Mrs. Marion. "In trying to overthrow something it could not see, spiritually I mean, it pulled down the pillars of prophecy on its own head."
Mr. Marion turned to Bethany again.
"Yes, Israel, as a nation, rejected Christ; but who was it that wrote those wonderful chronicles of the Nazarene? Who was it that went out ablaze with the power of Pentecost to spread the deathless story of the resurrection? Who were the apostles that founded our Church? To whom do we owe our knowledge of God and our hope of redemption, if not to the Jews? We forget, sometimes, that the Savior himself belonged to that race we so reproach."
He was talking so earnestly, he had forgotten his surroundings, until a light touch on his shoulder interrupted him.
"What's the occasion of all this eloquence, Brother Marion?" asked the minister's genial voice.
He turned quickly to smile into the frank, smooth-shaven face bending over him.
"Come, sit down, Dr. Bascom. We're discussing my young friend back there, David Herschel. Have you met him?"
"Yes, I was talking with him a little while ago," answered the minister. "He seems very reserved. Queer, what an intangible barrier seems to arise when we talk to one of that race. I just came in to tell you that Cragmore is in the next car. He got on at the last station."