"Oh! if you're going to swear, I'll go," Betsey replied with dignity, and went. But she took care to leave the doors ajar behind her.
It was true, Patrick did not read the Bible much; but he knew the Gospels and Psalms in the prayer-book, and was as familiar with the truths of Scripture as many a Bible student. But he had heard it so be-quoted by those who were to him not much better than heathen, and so made a bone of contention by snarling theologians, that he did not much care to read the book itself. He could not now avoid hearing it read without leaving the room; and he would not have had them hear him show that disrespect to them.
Mr. Yorke's voice had a certain bitter, rasping quality, which, with his fine enunciation, was very effective in some kinds of reading. In the sacred Scriptures it gave an impression of grandeur and sublimity. Patrick dropped his paper, and listened to the story of the martyrdom of St. Stephen. He knew it well, but seemed now to hear it for the first time. He saw no book, he heard a voice telling how the martyr stood before his accusers, with "his face as the face of an angel," and flung back their accusation upon themselves, till "they were cut to the heart," and "gnashed with their teeth at him."
"Faith!" he muttered excitedly; "but he had them there!"
As Mr. Yorke went on with the story, and the saint, looking steadfastly upward, declared that he saw the heavens open, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God, Patrick rose unconsciously to his feet, and blessed himself. To his pure faith and unhackneyed imagination the scene was vividly clear. He heard the outcry of the multitude, saw them rush upon their victim, drive him out of the city and stone him, till he fell asleep in the Lord.
"'And a young man named Saul was consenting to his death,'" said the voice.
"Glory be to God!" exclaimed Patrick, taking breath.
The prayer that followed grated on his feelings. The reader lost his fire, and merely got through this part of the exercises. Evidently, Mr. Yorke did not believe that he was praying. Neither did Patrick believe that he was.
The next morning Major Cleaveland's carriage came to take them to what they called church. Melicent and Clara had already set out to walk. Carl stayed at home with Edith, and only Mr. and Mrs. Yorke and Hester drove. They overtook the others at the steps of the meeting-house, and found Major Cleaveland waiting in the porch for them.