A Laodicean: A Story of To-day | Page 9

total dissimilarity between
the expression of her lineaments and that of the countenances around
her was not a little surprising, and was productive of hypotheses
without measure as to how she came there. She was, in fact,
emphatically a modern type of maidenhood, and she looked
ultra-modern by reason of her environment: a presumably sophisticated
being among the simple ones--not wickedly so, but one who knew life
fairly well for her age. Her hair, of good English brown, neither light
nor dark, was abundant--too abundant for convenience in tying, as it
seemed; and it threw off the lamp-light in a hazy lustre. And though it
could not be said of her features that this or that was flawless, the
nameless charm of them altogether was only another instance of how
beautiful a woman can be as a whole without attaining in any one detail
to the lines marked out as absolutely correct. The spirit and the life
were there: and material shapes could be disregarded.
Whatever moral characteristics this might be the surface of, enough
was shown to assure Somerset that she had some experience of things
far removed from her present circumscribed horizon, and could live,
and was even at that moment living, a clandestine, stealthy inner life
which had very little to do with her outward one. The repression of
nearly every external sign of that distress under which Somerset knew,
by a sudden intuitive sympathy, that she was labouring, added strength
to these convictions.
'And you refuse?' said the astonished minister, as she still stood
immovable on the brink of the pool. He persuasively took her sleeve
between his finger and thumb as if to draw her; but she resented this by
a quick movement of displeasure, and he released her, seeing that he
had gone too far.
'But, my dear lady,' he said, 'you promised! Consider your profession,
and that you stand in the eyes of the whole church as an exemplar of
your faith.'
'I cannot do it!'
'But your father's memory, miss; his last dying request!'
'I cannot help it,' she said, turning to get away.
'You came here with the intention to fulfil the Word?'

'But I was mistaken.'
'Then why did you come?'
She tacitly implied that to be a question she did not care to answer.
'Please say no more to me,' she murmured, and hastened to withdraw.
During this unexpected dialogue (which had reached Somerset's ears
through the open windows) that young man's feelings had flown hither
and thither between minister and lady in a most capricious manner: it
had seemed at one moment a rather uncivil thing of her, charming as
she was, to give the minister and the water-bearers so much trouble for
nothing; the next, it seemed like reviving the ancient cruelties of the
ducking-stool to try to force a girl into that dark water if she had not a
mind to it. But the minister was not without insight, and he had seen
that it would be useless to say more. The crestfallen old man had to
turn round upon the congregation and declare officially that the baptism
was postponed.
She passed through the door into the vestry. During the exciting
moments of her recusancy there had been a perceptible flutter among
the sensitive members of the congregation; nervous Dissenters seeming
to be at one with nervous Episcopalians in this at least, that they
heartily disliked a scene during service. Calm was restored to their
minds by the minister starting a rather long hymn in minims and
semibreves, amid the singing of which he ascended the pulpit. His face
had a severe and even denunciatory look as he gave out his text, and
Somerset began to understand that this meant mischief to the young
person who had caused the hitch.
'In the third chapter of Revelation and the fifteenth and following
verses, you will find these words:--
'"I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert
cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor
hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth. . . . Thou sayest, I am rich, and
increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that
thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked."'
The sermon straightway began, and it was soon apparent that the
commentary was to be no less forcible than the text. It was also
apparent that the words were, virtually, not directed forward in the line
in which they were uttered, but through the chink of the vestry-door,
that had stood slightly ajar since the exit of the young lady. The

listeners appeared to feel this no less than Somerset did, for their eyes,
one and all, became fixed upon that vestry