“And try to say your prayers before you go to sleep.”
The girl dropped a curtsy, and went slowly down the street. With a bitter laugh, the vicar pursued his way homeward.
“In the blood and the bone! In the blood and the bone!” he; repeated to himself. “You are right, girl; we are born bad—born bad. The bestial madness of ages and aeons, the lust and lasciviousness of countless generations, are still in our blood, and our instincts are still the instincts of the beast and the savage. Hypocrite and blasphemer that I am! Whited sepulchre, reeking with corruption! Living lie and mask of holiness! O God, what a wretch am I, who dare, to speak of purity and repentance to this woman!”
When he reached the Vicarage, his sister was anxiously awaiting him, and supper was ready.
“Where have you been so long?” she asked, a little impatiently. “I think you might leave word when you expect to be detained beyond your usual time. It is eleven o’clock.”
“I could not say how long I should be,” replied the vicar, with a weary look, which touched his sister and changed her ill-temper to solicitude.
“You are quite tired out, poor fellow,” she said, laying her hand on his shoulder. “Well, come to supper. It is ready.”
“I cannot take anything at present,” replied Mr. Santley. “I will, go and do a little of my sermon.”
“Shall I leave something out for you, then?”
“Yes, please. Good night.”