It was a singular and bitter trial to Sidney to stretch out his hand and clasp the hand of his father-in-law. If this crowd only knew the relationship that existed between him and the man they had chosen for their spokesman, their cheers would turn into execrations. He had never shaken hands with him before; for though he had visited Andrew's house frequently during the last few weeks, the latter knew his place too well to push himself forward so as to compel Sidney to such a friendly greeting. But now, at this juncture, nothing was more natural than that these two men, forgetting the differences of rank, should clasp each other's hands in token of a victory won by both.
It was a strong grip that the saddler gave to his friend Sidney Martin, and spoke of all the subtle, indefinable sympathy that existed between them. Margaret's eyes filled with happy tears. So long had she felt the gloom of this man's deep sorrow that her heart was filled with gladness to see him escaping from its chain.
"It's you I have to thank for my election, Goldsmith," said Sidney, glad to get his hand released from his painful grasp.
"We've all done our best, sir," he answered, "and we are come to meet you, and say not one of us has known a prouder day than this; a proud day and a joyful day it is. And we pray Almighty God, every man among us, that he will bless you with all the blessings of this life, and preserve your precious life for many, many years. And that you may live to be Prime Minister," he added with a tone of humor in his grave voice. There was a tremendous chorus of "Hurrahs!" and a great deal of laughter. Prime Minister! Yes; that was what they would all like. On Andrew Goldsmith's face there came a quiver, as if his features so long set in sad despair were attempting to smile, and might succeed if many more such joyous occasions came.
Sidney answered shortly and pleasantly, and the procession fell behind the carriages. It was only as they passed along the High Street that Andrew Goldsmith, looking at his little shop, and seeing its doorway and windows empty, while every other house was filled with women and children, remembered too vividly the mystery surrounding the fate of his own daughter. He dropped behind in the procession as it passed on to Apley Hall; and when Sidney looked for him in vain, he felt a keen sense of relief in Andrew's absence.
CHAPTER XVIII.
LAURA'S SCHEME.
The rector and Margaret continued to be fast friends, and the intercourse between the Hall and the Rectory was of the most intimate kind. The children of either house scarcely knew which was their home. The rector was a high-minded, unworldly man, altogether untouched by ambition or the love of money; there was perhaps a shade of indolence in his temperament, which made him less likely to feel the spur of ambition. Margaret and he understood one another better than any others understood them. Moreover, his genuine admiration, and his strong affection for her husband, added much to her happiness. For now and then, with the persistent recurrence of doubt, a misgiving crossed Margaret's mind that Sidney was not exactly a Christian in the sense she was. Not that he was in any degree negligent in observing the outward duties of religion. He was a constant attendant at church services; and a more regular communicant than she was herself. Day by day his life appeared to be one of conscientious continuance in well-doing. He was foremost in all philanthropic and religious schemes, and worked energetically at them. But now and then, at rare intervals, a false note jarred upon the harmonious and sensitive chords of Margaret's inmost soul; and then there was no man's praise of her husband so precious to her as that of his cousin George, who had been brought up with him as a brother, and who never doubted that he was one of the best men living.
As for Sidney, he was well content with himself and his career; and, as the years passed by, he was no longer troubled by qualms of conscience. He was spreading himself like a green bay tree; and his "inward thought was to found a house that should continue forever, a dwelling-place to all generations." He was increasing the glory of his house; and men praised him because he was doing well for himself. He blessed his own soul, and fell into the mistake that God was blessing him.
For Sidney almost fully persuaded himself that he was a Christian. He accepted what he imagined were the doctrines of Christianity. He would have signed the thirty-nine Articles of the Christian faith as readily as any candidate for orders. He had no doubts, or rather he had not time to trouble himself with inconvenient questions, so he believed that he was a believer. Often when he was listening with deep attention to some eloquent or touching sermon, he felt a thrill of emotion, which he mistook for devotion to Christ as his Master. The sins of his youth had been repented of and cast behind him; and if one repents is he not forgiven? He gave largely to the cause of religion, both in time and money. He was in no open way self-indulgent. If he was not a Christian man, as well as a rich man, who then could be saved? The camel had gone through the needle's eye.