Chapter XVIII

remainedquitesilentandMissGloversawthatnogoodwouldcomebybeatingaboutthebush. “Thefactis,Bertha,”shesaid,breakingtheawkwardsilence,“thatCharlesandIareveryanxiousthatyoushouldbechurched.Youdon’tmindoursayingso,butwe’rebothagreatdealolderthanyouare,andwethinkitwilldoyougood.Wedohopeyou’llconsenttoitbut,morethanthat,Charlesishereastheclergymanofyourparish,totellyouthatitisyourduty.” “Ihopeitwon’tbenecessaryformetoputitinthatway,Mrs.Craddock.” Berthapausedamomentlonger,andthenaskedforaprayer-book.MissGlovergaveasmilewhichforherwasquiteradiant. “I’vebeenwantingforalongtimetomakeyoualittlepresent,Bertha,”shesaid,“anditoccurredtomethatyoumightlikeaprayer-bookwithgoodlargeprint.I’venoticedinchurchthatthebookyougenerallyuseissosmallthatitmusttryyoureyes,andbeatemptationtoyounottofollowtheservice.SoI’vebroughtyouoneto-day,whichitwillgivemeverymuchpleasureifyouwillaccept.” Sheproducedalargevolume,boundingloomyblackcloth,andredolentoftheantisepticodourswhichpervadedtheVicarage.Theprintwasindeedlarge,but,sincethesocietywhicharrangedthepublicationinsistedonthecombinationofcheapnesswithutility,thepaperwasabominable. “Thankyouverymuch,”saidBertha,holdingoutherhandforthegift.“It’sawfullykindofyou.” “ShallIfindyoutheChurchingofWomen?” Berthanodded,andpresentlytheVicar’ssisterhandedherthebook,open.Shereadafewlinesanddroppedit. “Ihavenowishto‘giveheartythanksuntoGod,’”shesaid,lookingalmostfiercelyattheworthypair.“I’mverysorrytooffendyourprejudices,butitseemstomeabsurdthatIshouldprostratemyselfingratitudetoGod.” “Oh,Mrs.Craddock,Itrustyoudon’tmeanwhatyousay,”saidtheVicar. “ThisiswhatItoldyou,Charles,”saidMissGlover.“Idon’tthinkBerthaiswell,butstillthisseemstomedreadfullywicked.” Berthafrowned,findingitdifficulttorepressthesarcasmwhichrosetoherlipsherforbearancewassorelytried.ButMr.Gloverwasalittleundecided. “WemustbeasthankfultoGodfortheafflictionsHesendsasforthebenefits,”hesaidatlast. “Iamnotawormtocrawluponthegroundandgivethankstothefootthatcrushesme.” “Ithinkthatisblasphemous,Bertha,”saidMissGlover. “Oh,Ihavenopatiencewithyou,Fanny,”saidBertha,raisingherself,aflushlightingupherface.“CanyourealisewhatI’vegonethrough,theterriblepainofit?Oh,itwastooawful.EvennowwhenIthinkofitIalmostscream.” “Itisbysufferingthatwerisetoourhigherself,”saidMissGlover.“Sufferingisafirethatburnsawaythegrossnessofourmaterialnatures.” “Whatrubbishyoutalk,”criedBertha,passionately.“Youcansaythatwhenyou’veneversuffered.Peoplesaythatsufferingennoblesoneit’salie,itonlymakesonebrutal....ButIwouldhaveborneit—forthesakeofmychild.Itwasalluseless—utterlyuseless.Dr.Ramsaytoldmethechildhadbeen