Presently they began to sing; and some one officiously touched her shoulder, and said, "Ain't you a-goin' to join, miss?" And she stood up, feeling as if dazed by a sudden fall.
Her overwrought nerves were jarred.
The claptrappy tune, the overdone emphasis, the vulgar intonation distressed her; she was ashamed of the feeling, but could not help it; she turned to walk away. The preacher paused in the middle of a line.
"You have put your hand to the plough; you will not turn back!" he cried pleadingly. The public appeal annoyed her for a second, but when she met his eyes, bright with an earnest desire to "save her soul," her anger died.
"I hope not," she said gently; and walked away with his fervent "God help you!" ringing in her ears.
CHAPTER III.
The world is very odd, we see;
We do not comprehend it.
But in one fact we all agree,—
God won't and we can't mend it.
Being common-sense it can't be sin
To take it as I find it:
The pleasure—to take pleasure in;
The pain—try not to mind it.
—A. H. Clough.