“No, my lady; he is not disappointed. The lady is only dead.”
Clementina stared a moment—then dropped her head as if she understood. Presently she raised it again and said,
“But, according to what you said the other day, in doing so he was forsaking altogether the duties of the station in which God had called him.”
“That is true. It would have been a far grander thing to do his duty where he was, than to find another place and another duty. An earldom allotted is better than a mission preferred.”
“And at least you must confess,” interrupted Clementina, “that he only took to religion because he was unhappy.”
“Certainly, my lady, it is the nobler thing to seek God in the days of gladness, to look up to him in trustful bliss when the sun is shining. But if a man be miserable, if the storm is coming down on him, what is he to do? There is nothing mean in seeking God then, though it would have been nobler to seek him before.—But to return to the matter in hand: the author of Waverley makes his noble-hearted hero, whom assuredly he had no intention of disgracing, turn Moravian; and my conclusion from it is that, in his judgment, nobleness leads in the direction of religion; that he considers it natural for a noble mind to seek comfort there for its deepest sorrows.”
“Well, it may be so; but what is religion without consistency in action?” said Clementina.
“Nothing,” answered Malcolm.
“Then how can you, professing to believe as you do, cherish such feelings towards any man as you have just been confessing?”
“I don’t cherish them, my lady. But I succeed in avoiding hate better than suppressing contempt, which perhaps is the worse of the two. There may be some respect in hate.”