“I, I, I, I, I,” roared several voices in reply.
“Is it true, as a good woman tells me, that the innocent darlings had each an arm round the other's neck?”
“Ay.”
“And little coronets of flowers, to match their hair?” (That was the girl's doing.)
“Ay.”
“And the little boy had played the man, and taken off his tippet to put round the little lady?”
“Ay!” with a burst of enthusiasm from the assembled rustics.
“I think I see them myself; and the torches lighting up the dewy leaves overhead, and that Divine picture of innocent love. Well, which was the prettiest sight, and the fittest for heaven—the hatred of the parents, or the affection of the children?
“And now mark what a weapon hatred is, in the Devil's hands. There are only two people in this parish on whom that sight was wasted; and those two being gentlemen, and men of education, would have been more affected by it than humble folk, if Hell had not been in their hearts, for Hate comes from Hell, and takes men down to the place it comes from.
“Do you, then, shun, in that one thing, the example of your betters: and I hope those children will shun it too. A father is to be treated with great veneration, but above all is our Heavenly Father and His law; and that law, what is it?—what has it been this eighteen hundred years and more? Why, Love.