“Did you ever hear an effort more devoid of ideas? What possible good can he think he has accomplished, if that is his motive? Or how can he have sufficient vanity to imagine that it is other than a bore to listen to him?”
Ruth hesitated for her answer. It was not that she had been so impressed with the sermon, it was rather the text that had been preached to her; and she did not feel personally sensitive in regard to Judge Burnham’s opinion of this particular minister. I think the reason that the words struck sharply on her heart was because they revealed her husband’s utter lack of sympathy with the subject matter of the sermon. He was speaking solely from a critical, intellectual standpoint, without, apparently, a conception of any spiritual power connected with the “foolishness of preaching.” The sentence revealed to Ruth, as with a flash of light—such as reveals darkness—the fact that her husband had no sympathy with Christ or his servants, as such. Of course, she had known this before; but to know a thing and to feel it are two very different matters.
“I was not thinking of the newness of the truth,” she said, after a little, speaking hesitatingly. “It impressed me, however. A thing does not need to be new in order to be helpful; it may be as old as the earth, and we never have given it attention.”
“Possibly,” he said lightly. “There are things so old and so tiresome that we do not care to give them special attention; I am entirely willing to class that sermon among such, if you say so. I declare I had not realized that a sermon could be such a trial to me. I don’t quite see what is to be done; I suppose your orthodoxy will not permit of your staying at home on Sabbath, and I’m sure we can not tolerate that sort of preaching—I suppose he calls it preaching. How shall we manage?”
Still Ruth had no answer ready. Every word that he spoke served to increase the heavy weight at her heart; and, despite her shivering effort to get away from it, there rang the question, “How can two walk together except they be agreed?” Yet she realized only too well that the time for settling that question was long past; that she had taken solemn and irrevocable vows upon her, and must abide by them. The question now was, How was she so to walk with him as not to dishonor Christ?
“I have no fault to find with the man’s preaching,” she said, coldly; and her husband laughed good-naturedly, and told her he appreciated her well-meant efforts to make the best of everything, but, unfortunately, she had too much brain to allow him for a moment to believe that such weak attempts at oratory satisfied her. Then he changed the subject, talking of matters as foreign to Ruth’s thoughts as possible, and yet serving, by their very distance from her heart, to press the weight of pain deeper. Her eyes once widely opened, it seemed that everything which occurred that day served to show her more plainly the gulf which lay between her ideas, and plans, and hopes, and those of her husband.
“What a glorious day this is!” he had said, as they turned from the dinner table. “I declare I believe the country is ahead of the city! on such days as these, any way. Ruth, what do you say to a ride? It would be a good time to explore that winding road which seemed to stretch away into nowhere.”
While he waited, he watched with surprise the flush which deepened and spread on his wife’s face. It so happened that the question of Sabbath riding for pleasure was one which had come up incidentally for discussion one evening at Flossy Shipley’s, during Mr. Roberts’ visit, and Ruth, who had taken the popular view of innocent Sabbath recreation, had discussed the matter with keen relish, finding Mr. Roberts able to meet her at every point. She had been first annoyed to find her position open to so much objection, then interested to study the question in all its bearings, and ended, as such a frank, intelligent and thoroughly sincere nature as hersmust end, in abandoning a position which she saw was untenable, and coming strongly over to the other side; since which time the observance of the Sabbath had been one of her strong points. Judge Burnham had respected her scruples, so far as he knew them, but, truth to tell, he did not understand them very well. Having no personal principle in the matter by which to judge, he was in danger of erring in unthought of directions, and every new phase of the same question demanded a new line of reasoning. It had not so much as occurred to him that his wife would see any impropriety in riding out in her own carriage, on the Sabbath day, with her husband, on a quiet, unfrequented country road.
While she hesitated he watched her curiously.
“Well,” he said, laughing, at last, “what is the trouble? You look as though I had broken all the commands in the Decalogue. Am I on forbidden ground now?”