Gerald perceived that he had been detected in his profanation of the Kestercham Sabbath.
‘At Helmsbury,’ he said, ‘they read all sorts of books on Sunday.’
Mr. Eversley looked pained. His wife, however, returned to the charge.
‘And what if they do?’ she said. ‘I have always heard that the rich shall hardly enter into the kingdom of Heaven. I told you as much the first time you went there. But are the people of God to follow their example against His express law?’
Mrs. Eversley did not say what ‘express law’ of God it was that forbade novel-reading on a Sunday. So many people make laws for themselves (or for others) and then invest them with the thunders of the divine sanction. Gerald reflected that the Jewish law of the Sabbath was the one law which the Saviour of the world went out of His way to violate when He was on earth. But he said nothing. He was vexed by Mrs. Eversley’s attack on his friends at Helmsbury. He contrasted her silently with Lady Venniker. The essential nature of a Sunday book was therefore not further defined.
The distinction between Sunday and weekdays being absolute in Kestercham Vicarage, Christmas Day was an amalgamation of the two. It was Sunday until after divine service in the morning; the rest of the day was holiday. It was not the fashion in Kestercham Vicarage to interchange wishes for ‘a merry Christmas,’ for merriment in the eyes of Mr. Eversley was not an attribute of the people of God; but he would wish the members of his family (including the servants) ‘a happy Christmas,’ and would sometimes remind them that happiness was not found in earthly things. Mrs. Eversley celebrated the birthday of the Prince of Peace by a peculiarly emphatic recitation of the damnatory clauses of the Athanasian Creed. She noticed that Gerald, who was only divided from her in the pew by two of her younger children, did not join in reciting that creed. When the service was over, she took occasion to remark that she trusted he did not think he could be saved by works without faith—or perhaps he did not now feel the need of salvation—and she hoped he was not going to give up the habit of church-going.
Gerald was provoked by her words, and still more by her tone and manner of uttering them, into saying,
‘I dare say a man can be a very good man without going to church.’
Mrs. Eversley, who, whatever her faults, was at least not disposed to a craven compromise with the spirit of the world, replied bluntly,
‘No, he cannot.’