"What is so alarming! 'Pon my honour, Lady Emily, I'm astonished to hear you ask such a question!"—muttering to himself, "zealots—fanatics— enthusiasts—bedlamites! I'm sure everybody knows what Methodists are!"
"There has been quite enough said upon the subject," said Lady Juliana.
"There are plenty of sermons in the house, Miss Mary," continued the Doctor, who, like many other people, thought he was always doing a meritorious action when he could dissuade anybody from going to church. "I saw a volume somewhere not long ago; and at any rate there's the Spectator, if you want Sunday's reading—some of the papers there are as good as any sermon you'll get from Dr. Barlow."
Mary, with fear and hesitation, made another attempt to overcome her mother's prejudice, but in vain.
"I desire I may hear no more about it!" cried she, raising her voice. "The clergyman is a most improper person. I won't suffer any of my family to attend his church; and therefore, once for all, I won't hear another syllable on the subject."
This was said in a tone and manner not to be disputed, and Mary felt her resolution give way before the displeasure of her mother. A contest of duties was new to her, and she could not all at once resolve upon fulfilling one duty at the expense of another. "Besides," thought she, "my mother thinks she is in the right. Perhaps, by degrees, I may bring her to think otherwise; and it is surely safer to try to conciliate than to determine to oppose."
But another Sabbath came, and Mary found she had made no progress in obtaining the desired permission. She therefore began seriously to commune with her own heart as to the course she ought to pursue.
The commandment of "Honour thy father and thy mother" had been deeply imprinted on her mind, and few possessed higher notions of filial reverence; but there was another precept which also came to her recollection. "Whosoever loveth father and mother more than me cannot be my disciple." "But I may honour and obey my parent without loving her more than my Saviour," argued she with herself, in hopes of lulling her conscience by this reflection. "But again," thought she, "the Scripture saith, 'He that keepeth my commandments, he it is that loveth me.'" Then she felt the necessity of owning that if she obeyed the commands of her mother, when in opposition to the will of her God, she gave one of the Scripture proofs of either loving or fearing her parent upon earth more than her Father which is in heaven. But Mary, eager to reconcile impossibilities—viz. the will of an ungodly parent with the holy commands of her Maker—thought now of another argument to calm her conscience. "The Scripture," said she, "says nothing positive about attending public worship; and, as Lady Emily says, I may say my prayers just as well at home." But the passages of Scripture were too deeply imprinted on her mind to admit of this subterfuge. "Forsake not the assembling of yourselves together." "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there will I be in the midst of them," etc. etc. But alas! two or three never were gathered together at Beech Park, except upon parties of pleasure, games of hazard, or purposes of conviviality.
The result of Mary's deliberations was a firm determination to do what she deemed her duty, however painful. And she went in search of Lady Emily, hoping to prevail upon her to use her influence with Lady Juliana to grant the desired permission; or, should she fail in obtaining it, she trusted her resolution would continue strong enough to enable her have her mother's displeasure in this act of conscientious disobedience. She met her cousin, with her bonnet on, prepared to go out.
"Dear Lady Emily," said she, "let me entreat of you to use your influence with my mother to persuade her to allow me to go to church."