“Then, sir, I fear that your church lies under the same reproach, for many of its formularies seem to indicate the same view of salvation.”
“Yes, yes, there may be some such language in the prayer-book and articles, but they were drawn up in times when men were not so enlightened as they are now; and it does not follow that all Protestants should exactly follow every minute shade of opinion or doctrine there laid down.”
Some men have been so ungallant as to say that they would never condescend to reason with a woman: if Mr. Martindale had made the same determination, it would have saved him some trouble; for in this conversation, which was extended to a much greater length than we are desirous of pursuing it, Mr. Martindale had much the worst of the argument, though not the worst side of the question. His misfortune was, that he was totally ignorant of the nature of the Roman Catholic religion, and very little better informed concerning that faith which he himself professed. It is a practice too common to be greatly reprobated, for persons to argue with great earnestness and fluency on those subjects of which they are almost totally ignorant. But, on the other hand, if persons would never begin or pertinaciously continue an argument till they had made themselves fully acquainted with the subject, then there would be a great lack of discussion, and the publication of controversial treatises would greatly fall off; and there would perhaps be a mighty deficiency in the article of zeal. But it is needless to anticipate ills which may never befall us; and we may venture to bid defiance to the genius of pantology, however loudly it may threaten to illuminate every mind.
Having stated that Mr. Martindale had the happiness of discovering his daughter, it will be superfluous to say that he forthwith made preparation for her establishment in the possession of such means as might place her in a style of life more suitable to her condition than a little lone cottage. But there was a change very naturally, though very quietly, taking place in the old gentleman’s mind and in his feelings towards the Hon. Philip Martindale. He could not now think of making this gentleman his heir. In Signora Rivolta there was evidently a prior claim. As yet, however, the young gentleman at the Abbey was ignorant of the new discovery; and what is more, he was not even aware of the existence of any such person as Signora Rivolta; nor did he suspect that any such discovery was within the compass of probability.
By what the Rev. Mr. Denver had heard, and by what the wife of that said gentleman had told to Mrs. Price and Mrs. Flint, and by what Mrs. Denver and Mrs. Price and Mrs. Flint had told to every body within the reach of their knowledge, the whole town of Brigland was full of confused rumours and reports of some great calamity having befallen Mr. John Martindale. Some said that he had lost all his property; some said that he had only lost half; some had it that old Richard Smith, who had lately died, had been discovered to be Mr. Martindale’s elder brother, and that all his immense property must descend to the young woman his niece. The reports at last found their way to the housekeeper’s room at the Abbey; and the trusty Oliver trembled when he was very credibly and circumstantially informed that, in consequence of the death of old Richard Smith, some papers or parchments, or some something, had been discovered, by which it appeared that old Mr. Martindale had no right to the large property which he had so long possessed. It is the peculiar privilege of rogues always to fear the worst in doubtful matters. This privilege Oliver now abundantly enjoyed. Not wishing to keep all his news to himself, he took the first opportunity of speaking to his master; and in order to break the matter gently to him, and not all at once to overwhelm him with the fatal intelligence, he began by asking:
“Have you heard any bad news lately, sir?”
“Bad news,” hastily asked Mr. Philip, “no; what do you mean?—what kind of bad news? Do you allude to the report that the old gentleman is going to be married to Lady Woodstock?”
“Oh dear no, sir; it is a great deal worse than that: but I hope it is not true; yet I am sure I had it from very good authority, and it is not likely such a thing should be invented.”
“Well, well, don’t stand prating and prosing, but tell me at once what it is.”
The trusty Oliver shook his head and sighed. “It is nothing more nor less, sir, than that some deeds have been discovered at old Richard Smith’s cottage since the poor man’s death, by which it appears that Mr. Martindale has no right to the property he now possesses.”