"Scarce that, my dear," answered Philip, quietly. "He does believe in a sort of God, but 'tis one of his own making."
"Will that deliver him in the day of the Lord's wrath?"[[26]] asked Celia in a low tone. "Philip, I hope I said nothing wrong. I did not mean to speak uncourteously or unchristianly. I hope I did not do it."
"My dear little scrap of scrupulousness! Do you suppose that a soldier in the heat of battle says 'Pray excuse me!' to the opposite man before he fires at him?"
"Ah! but the weapons of my warfare ought not to have been carnal.[[27]] St. Paul says, 'Speaking the truth in love.'[[28]] I am afraid there was not much love in what I said to-night."
"No, dear Celia, the truth was so hot that it burnt it up," said Philip, laughing. "Don't make yourself miserable. Colville will hardly break his heart over it. Indeed, I am not certain that he keeps one. Are you not coming down again? Well, then, good-night."
On questioning her counsellor Patient in a similar manner, Celia found her unable to see any error in her act. Perhaps the old fiery Covenanter spirit was too strong in her to temper the words which she spoke. That which to Celia was merely carrying out the apostolic injunction, "Be courteous,"[[29]] was in Patient's eyes "conferring with flesh and blood."[[30]]
"Nay, Madam," said she, "if Paul himself could say, 'If any man preach any other Gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed,'[[31]] are we to mince our words and dress the truth to make it dainty to the world and the Devil? Is it not written, 'If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maran-atha'?"[[32]]
"You retired early last night," said Lady Ingram to Celia, as she sipped her chocolate on the following afternoon. "You were tired, I suppose?"
"No, Madam," said Celia, honestly; "I was angry."
Lady Ingram gave her usual sign of surprise or perplexity—a very slight elevation of her chiselled eyebrows.