“The Church of England, of course.”
“Oh!” He elevated his light eyebrows expressively. “Because its members have no quarrels with one another?”
Margot frowned uneasily.
“Oh, well—I suppose they have. But at the worst there are two parties, as compared to a dozen. You cannot deny that we are more united?”
“I should not boast too much about the unity of a Church in which civil war is permanently in progress; and what about charity and humility of mind? Suppose now, suppose for a moment that a family of strangers come to live in the house next your own in town, and you discover among other things that they are Dissenters. How does it influence your attitude towards them?” He thrust his ruddy face nearer, staring fixedly into hers. “Answer me that! Feel just the same? Exactly the same? No cooling off in the intention to call? Quite sure you never used the expression, ‘only Dissenters!’ and passed by on the other side?”
Margot’s cheeks blazed. Her lids dropped, and the corners of her mouth drooped in self-conscious shame. There was a moment’s silence, then a low murmur sounded on her ear, and, looking up quickly, she saw the Editor’s dark face turned upon his brother, with reproach written large in frowning brow and flashing eye. He was taking up the cudgels in her defence; reproaching his own brother for forcing her into an awkward position.
Margot’s heart gave a leap of joy at the discovery; in the flash of an eye her mood, her outlook on life, the very scene itself, seemed transfused with new radiance and joy. The sun seemed to peep out through the grey clouds, the underlying anxiety and worry of the past days took to itself wings, and disappeared. Her brown eyes thanked him with a glance more eloquent than she was aware; she laughed softly, and her laugh was sweet as a chime of bells.
“Yes, I have! I confess it. I’ve been narrow-minded and uncharitable, and a snob into the bargain. I’ve no right to throw stones... What Church do you belong to, Mr Elgood?”
The little man stood still in the middle of the road, throwing out his arms on either side, with a gesture wonderfully eloquent. His round, chubby face shone with earnestness and exaltation.
“To the Church of Christ! The Church of loyalty, and obedience, and love towards the brethren! To the Church of Christ, wherever I find it! When will Christians learn to remember the points on which they agree, rather than those on which they differ? The questions of form and ceremony; of Church government and ritual; how small they are, how unutterably trivial, compared to the great facts of the Fatherhood of God, and the sacrifice of Christ! Did the Power who made every one of us with different faces and different forms, expect us all to think mathematically alike? I cannot believe it! It is our duty to trust in God and love our brethren; to live together in peace, seeing the best in each other, acknowledging the best, thinking no evil! To see men who make a profession of religion quarrelling and persecuting each other for trivial differences, is a ghastly spectacle—a ghastly spectacle!” He walked on, swinging his short arms to and fro, then suddenly looked up with a keen glance into Ron’s eager face.