“Pray do not misunderstand my husband,” interposed Mrs. Haldane. “He was delighted with your sermon to-day; and I do not wonder, for you have the power of appealing to the heart and raising the mind beyond earthly things. It was only a few moments ago that he told me he was deeply interested.”
“I perceived that he was amused once or twice,” replied the vicar, with a smile.
“I confess that I may have smiled at one or two points in your discourse.”
“Excuse my interrupting you,” said Mrs. Haldane; “will you not walk? You can spare time to accompany us a little way?”
Mr. Santley bowed, and Mrs. Haldane signed to the coachman to drive on slowly towards the village.
“For example,” resumed Mr. Haldane, “I see you still stick to the old chronology and the mythic Eden.”
“Certainly I do.”
“And yet you should be aware that at least a thousand years before the date you fix for the creation of Adam, tribes of savage hunters and fishers peopled the old fir-woods of Denmark, and set their nets in the German Ocean.”
“It may eventually prove necessary to revise the chronology of the Bible,” replied the vicar; “but there is at present too much conflict of opinion among your archaeologists to decide on the absolute age of these tribes. After all, the question is one of minor importance.”
“Granted. But you cannot say the same of the efficacy of prayer.”