“I think it depends on the will,” said Margaret.
“Some people are angry with those whose example would show that there is a higher standard,” said Ethel.
“And,” said Margaret, “some who have the high one set before them content themselves with knowing that it cannot be fully attained, and will not try.”
“The standard is the effect of early impression,” said Dr. May. “I should be very sorry to think it could not be raised.”
“Faithful in a little—” said Ethel. “I suppose all good people’s standard is always going higher.”
“As they comprehend more of absolute perfection,” said Margaret.
CHAPTER XV.
The city’s golden spire it was,
When hope and health were strongest;
But now it is the churchyard grass,
We look upon the longest.—E. B. BROWNING.
A disinclination for exertion or going into public hung upon Dr. May, but he was obliged to rouse himself to attend the Town Council meeting, which was held a few days after the vicar’s funeral, to decide on the next appointment. If it had depended on himself alone, his choice would have been Mr. Edward Wilmot, whom the death of his good old father had uprooted from Settlesham; and the girls had much hope, but he was too much out of spirits to be sanguine. He said that he should only hear a great deal of offensive stuff from Tomkins the brewer; and that, in the desire to displease nobody, the votes should settle down on some nonentity, was the best which was likely to happen. Thus, grumbling, he set off, and his daughters watched anxiously for his return. They saw him come through the garden with a quick, light step, that made them augur well, and he entered the room with the corners of his mouth turning up. “I see,” said Ethel, “it is all right.”