Even if it should turn out that Shakespeare was not so good a Protestant as he ought to be, the value of a genuine manuscript was not to be depreciated.
‘Well! I have been this day so fortunate as to discover what will put all doubts at rest upon this point. Shakespeare was a Protestant.’
‘Thank Heaven!’ murmured Mr. Erin, piously. ‘If you have done this, my son, you have advanced the claims of true religion, and quickened the steps of civilisation throughout the world.’
Margaret’s eyes opened very wide (as well they might), but they only beheld William Henry. She had been wont to rally him upon his vanity, and especially upon the hopes he had built upon his poetical gifts. Yet how much greater a mark was he making in the world than his most sanguine aspirations had imagined! And how quiet and unassuming he looked! The modest way in which he habitually bore his honours pleased her even more than the honours themselves.
‘After all, Maggie,’ he would say, after receiving the congratulations of the dilettanti, ‘it is nothing but luck.’
As he straightened out the half-sheets of paper on the table, where their homely supper stood untouched and unnoticed, he only permitted himself a smile of gratification.
‘It is too long,’ he said, ‘to read aloud, and the old spelling is difficult.’
His uncle drew his chair close to him, on one side, and Margaret did the like on the other, so that each could read for themselves. Their looks were full of eagerness; the one was thinking of Shakespeare and Samuel Erin, the other of William Henry—and longo intervallo—of William Shakespeare.
The MS., which was headed ‘William Shakespeare’s Profession of Faith,’ ran as follows:—
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE’S PROFESSION OF FAITH.