“But how?”
“How? With water. What did you expect?”
“But—all at once, without any preparation?”
“What preparation was needed? I made my confession of Christ, and he baptised me in His name. The preparation was only to draw the water.”
“What on earth did you do for sponsors?”
“Had none.”
“Did he let you?”
A little smothered laugh came from Countess. “He had not much choice,” she said. “He did try it on. But I told him plainly, I was not going to give in to that nonsense: that if he chose to baptise me at once, I was there ready, and would answer any questions and make any confession that he chose. But if not—not. I was not coming again.”
“And he accepted it!” said David, with a dozen notes of exclamation in his voice.
“Did I not tell you he was the most sensible Christian I ever found? He said, ‘Well!—after all, truly, any thing save the simple baptism with water was a man-made ordinance. The Ethiopian eunuch had no sponsors’—I don’t know who he was, but I suppose the hermit did—‘and he probably made as true a Christian for all that’ ‘In truth,’ said I, ‘the institution of sponsors seems good for little children—friends who promise to see that they shall be brought up good Christians if their parents die early; but for a woman of my age, it is simply absurd, and I won’t have it. Let me confess Christ as my Messiah and Lord, and baptise me with water in His name, and I am sure he will be satisfied with it. And if any of the saints and angels are not satisfied, they can come down and say so, if they think it worth while.’ So—as he saw, I suppose, that I was not going to do it—he gave in.”