Part 13 (1/2)
”Wild geese; the forerunners of the host that will soon come down from the marshes by the Polar Sea.”
”But do they go so far?”
He laughed.
”They cross this continent twice a year; up from the steaming lagoons on the Gulf to the frozen muskegs of the North, and back again. They're filled with a grand unrest and wholly free; travelers of the high air, always going somewhere.”
”Ah!” responded Gertrude. ”To be always doing something is good. But the other--the ceaseless wandering----”
”Going on and on, beating a pa.s.sage through the icy winds, rejoicing in the sun, seeking for adventure. Is there no charm in that?”
She looked at him uneasily, as if his words had awakened some half-understood response.
”I think Cyril must have felt something of the kind. So far it has never stirred me. Isn't it wise to hold fast by what is safe and familiar?”
”Oh, I don't know,” Prescott answered with a smile. ”I follow the course you mention, because I have to. It's my business to drive the plow, and the hazard of having a crop hailed out is adventure enough. But I don't think it should make one hard on the people who prefer the other thing.
After all, they may be right; the life they take pleasure in may be the best for them, though it wouldn't appeal to you or me.”
”I'm not sure that toleration should be encouraged. It often means indifference, perhaps a lack of principle.”
She grasped tightly the rail around the seat, for the horses plunged down a sandy slope at a wild gallop, pa.s.sing at the bottom a horse and buggy in which sat a man dressed in a dark gray suit, to whom Prescott waved his hand.
”Is he a clergyman?” asked Gertrude.
”Well,” Prescott smiled, ”he's a Presbyterian minister. I suppose you think there's a difference?”
His companion with unusual forbearance let this pa.s.s.
”Then you have churches at Sebastian?”
”Four. I can't say they're crowded; but, while we're liberal-minded on many points, the flocks won't mix. Strikes me as a pity.”
”It is a pity; there should be only one strong and united church in every place.”
”And that the right one?” Prescott's eyes twinkled mischievously. ”You're thinking of the one we call Episcopalian?”
”Yes,” said Gertrude severely; ”the Church.”
”I'll admit that I'm on pretty good terms with the lot, but Father Dillon's my favorite. For one thing, he's a practical farmer as well as a fine cla.s.sical scholar. His crowd, for the most part, are hard-up foreigners; and he shows them how to build decent homes and put their crops in. All the same, I've quite a high opinion of the Methodist and the Presbyterian, who are at the opposite end of the scale.”
Gertrude showed signs of disapproval.
”In these matters, broad-mindedness may be dangerous. One can't compromise.”
”Well,” he said, ”even the Roman Curia tried it before the council of Trent, and your people made an attempt to conciliate the English Calvinists about Elizabeth's time; you were inclined to Genevan Protestantism once or twice afterward.”
His companion's surprise was evident, and he laughed as he read her thoughts.
”Oh,” he explained, ”I used to take some interest in these matters once upon a time. You see, I was at McGill.”