Manvers suddenly threw back his head, his face for the first time sharpening into attention. "Ah! Well—what about the Creeds?"
Mrs. Flaxman bent forward, triumphing in the capture of her companion.
"We had both the Creeds. The Rector read them—turning to the congregation—and with just a word of preface—'Here follows the Creed, commonly called the Apostles' Creed,'—or 'Here follows the Nicene Creed.' And we all stood and listened—and nobody said a word. It was the strangest moment! You know—I'm not a serious person—but I just held my breath."
"As though you heard behind the veil the awful Voices—'Let us depart hence?'" said Manvers, after a pause. His expression had gradually changed. Those who knew him best might have seen in it a slight and passing trace of conflicts long since silenced and resolutely forgotten.
"If you mean by that that the church was irreverent—or disrespectful—or hostile—well, you are quite wrong!" cried Mrs. Flaxman impetuously. "It was like a moment of new birth—I can't describe it—as though a Spirit entered in. And when the Rector finished—there was a kind of breath through the church—like the rustling of new leaves—and I thought of the wind blowing where it listed…. And then the Rector preached on the Creeds—how they grew up and why. Fascinating!—why aren't the clergy always telling us such things? And he brought it all round to impressing upon us that some day we might be worthy of another Christian creed—by being faithful—that it would flower again out of our lives and souls—as the old had done…. I wonder what it all meant!" she said abruptly, her light voice dropping.
Manvers smiled. His emotion had quite passed away.
"Ah! but I forgot"—she resumed hurriedly—"we left out several of the Commandments—and we chanted the Beatitudes—and then I found there was a little service paper in the seat, and everybody in the church but Hugh and me knew all about it beforehand!"
"A queer performance," said Manvers, "and of course childishly illegal. Your man will be soon got rid of. I expect you might have applied to him the remark of the Bishop of Cork on the Dean of Cork—'Excellent sermon!—eloquent, clever, argumentative!—and not enough gospel in it to save a tom-tit!"'
Mrs. Flaxman looked at him oddly.
"Well, but—the extraordinary thing was that Hugh made me stay for the second service, and it was as Ritualistic as you like!"