“Lutheran!” cried the old man, hastily. “I am no more a Lutheran than you!”
They all laughed at Dr Thorpe, thus brought to confession at last.
“Are you not so?” said Mr Underhill, laughing and bowing. “In good sooth, I am rejoiced to hear it.—Well! Mrs Rose, allow me to ask at you if you go with me or no?”
“Assuredly, Mr Underhill, no,” said she. “If I had ever any belief in the goodness of the world, it did fly away from me a long time ago; and I do not look to see the peace or the right all over it, as you seem to look. It may be that I answer rather your thoughts than your words; but it seemed me you had that thought.”
“But, Mrs Rose,” said he, “if you take us all for ill and wicked, you must find it hard work to love your neighbour as yourself. We are leaving our subject-matter, but let that pass.”
“Ah, Mr Underhill!” she answered, with a smile, “I am as bad as any one else; and I do not think we wait for people to become angels before we love them.”
“We do wait—for them to become angels, sometimes,” said Annis, softly, “before we know how well we love them.”
They sat silent for a while after this: even Mr Underhill seemed to be meditating; neither did he pursue his inquiry any further. Marguerite rose and went up-stairs, where Thekla was already; but the rest kept their places. And while they sat, there came a very soft rapping at the door. The party looked one on another in doubt, for the rapping was in the form of the old signal-tap which the Gospellers were wont to use when they assembled for prayer in each others’ houses. And there was no gathering at the Lamb to-night.
Barbara rose and went to the door. The minute she opened it, they heard her cry “Eh!” but no more. The person outside spoke, and Barbara answered, more than once, but too low for those within to hear words, or even whose voice it was; then Barbara stepped forward, and opened the door of the chamber. All felt some strange thing at hand, and they held their breath. And the next minute they were saluted by a voice which had been silent to them for four long, weary years.
“How do you all, dear friends?” said Mr Rose.