Phyllis of Philistia [11]
said:
"That is the question which I have been asking myself for some time-- ever since I read about that book. Oh, please, Mr. Holland, do not stay any longer! Cannot you see that if, after you have made an explanation that should satisfy any reasonable person, I still remain in my original way of thinking, I am not the woman who should be your wife?"
"You would see with my eyes if you were my wife," he said, and he believed that she would, so large an amount of confidence had he in his own power to dominate a woman.
"Ah!" she said, "you have provided me with the strongest reason why I should never become your wife, Mr. Holland."
"Do not say that, Phyllis!" he cried, in a low voice, almost a piteous voice. "I must have you with me in this great work which I feel has been given me to accomplish. I am prepared to make any sacrifice for the cause which I have at heart--the cause to which I mean to devote the rest of my life; but you--you--I must have you with me, Phyllis. Don't give me an answer now. All I ask of you is to think over the whole matter from the standpoint of one who loves the truth, and who does not fear the result of those who are investigators. A few years ago the geologists were regarded as the enemies of the faith. Later the evolutionists were looked on with abhorrence. Had any clergyman ventured to assent to that doctrine which we now know to be the everlasting truth of the scheme of earthly life propounded by the Creator, he would have been compelled to leave the Church. I do not know what will happen to me, my Phyllis. No, no! do not say anything to me now. All that I ask of you is to think--think--think."
"That is it--that is your modern scientific spirit!" she cried. "You, and such as you, say 'think--think--think' to us--to poor women and men who are asking for comfort, for protection against the evil of the world. You say 'think--think--think,' when you should say pray--pray-- pray.' Where are you going to end? you have begun by taking from us our Bible. What do you propose to give us in exchange for it? No--no, don't answer me. I did not mean to enter into the question with you-- to enter into any question with you. I have no right to do so."
"You have every right, Phyllis. If I should cause offence to the least of the little ones of the flock with which I have been intrusted, it would be better that a millstone were hanged round my neck and that I were cast into the sea. You have a right to ask and it is laid on me to answer."
"Then I decline to avail myself of the privilege; I will ask you nothing, except to say good-by."
"I will not say it, Phyllis, and I will not hear you say it. Three months ago you told me that you loved me."
"And I fancied that I did, but now----"
"Ah! you think that you have the power to cease loving at a moment's notice? You will find out your mistake, my child. In love there are no good-bys. I take your hand now, but not to say good-by; I feel that you are still mine--that you will be mine more than ever when you think--think--and pray."
"Ah! You ask me to pray?"
"Pray--pray for me, child. I need the prayers of such as you, for I feel that my hour of deepest trial is drawing nigh. Do you fancy that I am the man to take back anything that I have written? Look at me, Phyllis; I tell you here that I will stand by everything that I have written. Whatever comes of it, the book remains. Even if I lose all that I have worked for,--even if I lose you,--I will still say 'the book remains.' I am ready to suffer for it. I say in all humility that I believe God will give me grace to die for it."
She had given him her hand. He was still holding it when he spoke his final sentence, looking, not into her face, but into a space beyond it. His eyes more than suggested the eyes of a martyr waiting undaunted for the lighting of the fagots. Suddenly he dropped her hand. He looked for a moment into her face. He saw that the tears were upon it. He turned and walked out of the room without a word.
No word came from her.
He knew that he had left her
"That is the question which I have been asking myself for some time-- ever since I read about that book. Oh, please, Mr. Holland, do not stay any longer! Cannot you see that if, after you have made an explanation that should satisfy any reasonable person, I still remain in my original way of thinking, I am not the woman who should be your wife?"
"You would see with my eyes if you were my wife," he said, and he believed that she would, so large an amount of confidence had he in his own power to dominate a woman.
"Ah!" she said, "you have provided me with the strongest reason why I should never become your wife, Mr. Holland."
"Do not say that, Phyllis!" he cried, in a low voice, almost a piteous voice. "I must have you with me in this great work which I feel has been given me to accomplish. I am prepared to make any sacrifice for the cause which I have at heart--the cause to which I mean to devote the rest of my life; but you--you--I must have you with me, Phyllis. Don't give me an answer now. All I ask of you is to think over the whole matter from the standpoint of one who loves the truth, and who does not fear the result of those who are investigators. A few years ago the geologists were regarded as the enemies of the faith. Later the evolutionists were looked on with abhorrence. Had any clergyman ventured to assent to that doctrine which we now know to be the everlasting truth of the scheme of earthly life propounded by the Creator, he would have been compelled to leave the Church. I do not know what will happen to me, my Phyllis. No, no! do not say anything to me now. All that I ask of you is to think--think--think."
"That is it--that is your modern scientific spirit!" she cried. "You, and such as you, say 'think--think--think' to us--to poor women and men who are asking for comfort, for protection against the evil of the world. You say 'think--think--think,' when you should say pray--pray-- pray.' Where are you going to end? you have begun by taking from us our Bible. What do you propose to give us in exchange for it? No--no, don't answer me. I did not mean to enter into the question with you-- to enter into any question with you. I have no right to do so."
"You have every right, Phyllis. If I should cause offence to the least of the little ones of the flock with which I have been intrusted, it would be better that a millstone were hanged round my neck and that I were cast into the sea. You have a right to ask and it is laid on me to answer."
"Then I decline to avail myself of the privilege; I will ask you nothing, except to say good-by."
"I will not say it, Phyllis, and I will not hear you say it. Three months ago you told me that you loved me."
"And I fancied that I did, but now----"
"Ah! you think that you have the power to cease loving at a moment's notice? You will find out your mistake, my child. In love there are no good-bys. I take your hand now, but not to say good-by; I feel that you are still mine--that you will be mine more than ever when you think--think--and pray."
"Ah! You ask me to pray?"
"Pray--pray for me, child. I need the prayers of such as you, for I feel that my hour of deepest trial is drawing nigh. Do you fancy that I am the man to take back anything that I have written? Look at me, Phyllis; I tell you here that I will stand by everything that I have written. Whatever comes of it, the book remains. Even if I lose all that I have worked for,--even if I lose you,--I will still say 'the book remains.' I am ready to suffer for it. I say in all humility that I believe God will give me grace to die for it."
She had given him her hand. He was still holding it when he spoke his final sentence, looking, not into her face, but into a space beyond it. His eyes more than suggested the eyes of a martyr waiting undaunted for the lighting of the fagots. Suddenly he dropped her hand. He looked for a moment into her face. He saw that the tears were upon it. He turned and walked out of the room without a word.
No word came from her.
He knew that he had left her