"Put it to a man," advised Jane. "Ax parson. It's a free country and though we're all Chosen Fews, that don't prevent parson from being a very sensible chap. Or, if you don't like the thought of him, try somebody else."
But Margery gave no promise. She went home vaguely heartened and determined at least to work for Jeremy. She felt, indeed, that what he desired would be sure to happen presently without any word from her; still to work for him was good. She had nobody to work for now.
Next morning she went to chapel with Mrs. Huxam and, finding herself brave afterwards, actually followed Jeremy's suggestion and gave Judith a shock of unexpected pain.
"Mother," she said. "I've got great thoughts and you should hear them. We can't think anything we're not meant to think, and now my thoughts have taken a turn. You know how it was with me. After our trouble I didn't want to live; I'd have been glad to shut my eyes and sleep and never wake up. Then I got better and braver. And then I grew to miss the life of my home terribly, because, whatever the cause, to be wrenched out of the little holding of your days must hurt. And so I got worse again—body and mind. And now I've looked on and asked myself about it."
"Better you looked still farther on and put away all that joins you to the past. That I've told you more than once, Margery."
"You have; but I can't do it. You can't forget your whole married life and your motherhood and the father of your children. If you do, there's nothing left for a woman. And I've come to see this very clearly. I'm Jacob's wife."
"No longer in the Lord's sight."
"Let me speak. I'm Jacob's wife; and what I'm sure now is that Jacob is a very different man from what he was. God Almighty has changed Jacob, and the poison that did these dreadful things is poured out, and he's left, like the man from whom the devil was drawn by Jesus Christ. Mother, when first I even thought about Red House, I felt shame and dursn't tell you, for I feared the longing to see it again came from the devil. Now I don't feel shame, and I know the longing don't come from the devil. There's duty to be done there yet."
"Thank God you've told me this," answered Judith, "for we've got to do some fierce fighting, I fear. Not the devil? Why, I see his claws, Margery!
"'Tis his last and deadliest stroke, to make his temptation look like duty and come before you clothed like an angel of light. An old trick that's snapped many a soul. Never, never do you hide your thoughts from me, Margery, after this."