A Glimpse of the Hot Gospeller.
“In service which Thy love appoints
There are no bonds for me;
My secret heart has learned the truth
Which makes Thy children free:
A life of self-renouncing love
Is a life of liberty.”
Anna L. Waring.
“I hold not with you there, Parson!”
The suddenness of this appeal would have startled any one less calm and self-controlled than the Reverend Robert Tremayne, who was taking off his surplice in the vestry after morning prayers one Wednesday, when this unexpected announcement reached him through the partially open door. But it was not the Rector’s habit to show much emotion of any kind, whatever he might feel.
“Pray you, come forward,” he said quietly, in answer to the challenge.
The door, pushed wide open by the person without, revealed a handsome old man, lithe and upright still,—whose hair was pure white, and his brown eyes quick and radiant. He marched in and seated himself upon the settle, grasping a stout oaken stick in both hands, and gazing up into the Rector’s face. His dress, no less than his manners, showed that notwithstanding the blunt and eccentric nature of his greeting, he was by birth a gentleman.
“And wherein hold you not with me, Sir, I pray you?” inquired Mr Tremayne with some amusement.
“In your tolerating of evil opinion.”
“I cry you mercy. What evil opinion have I tolerated?”
“If you will tolerate men which hold evil opinions, you must needs tolerate evil opinion.”