Part 12 (1/2)
It may soothe you.”
”Read it,” murmured the spinster, now lost in an ecstasy of luxurious grief, though she would have been puzzled to give a reason for it.
Gussie took up the paper once more. Now that her battle was so nearly won, she allowed herself more freedom in the reading. The Celtic love of drama stirred within her and she gave the pompous balderdash _ore rotundo_.
”'And in conclusion, what is our crying need in England to-day? It is this: It is the establishment of a great crusade for the crus.h.i.+ng of the disguised Popery in our midst. One protest has been made in Hornham, protests should be made all over England. A mighty organisation should be called into existence which should make every ”priest” tremble in his cope and ca.s.sock, tremble for the avalanche of public reprobation which will descend upon him and his.
”'I may be a visionary and no such idea as I have in my mind may be possible. But I think not. Who can say that our borough of Hornham may not become famous in history as the spot in which the second Reformation was born!
”'Much needs to be done before such a glorious movement can be inaugurated; that it will be inaugurated a band of earnest and determined men and women live in the liveliest hope.
”'I am confident that a movement having its seed in the borough, if widely published and made known to patriotic English people, would be supported with swift and overwhelming generosity by the country at large. The public response would appal the Ritualists and even astonish loyal sons of the Church of England. But, in order to start this crusade, help is required. Some n.o.ble soul must come forward to start the machine, to raise the Protestant Flag.
”'Where shall we find him or her? Is there no one in our midst willing to become the patron of Truth and to earn the praise of thousands and a place in history?
”'Once Joan of Arc led the forces of her country to victory. A Charlotte Corday slew the monster Marat, a Boadicea hurled herself against the legions of Rome! Who will be our Boadicea to-day, who will come forward to crush the tyranny of Rome in our own England? For such a n.o.ble lady, who will revive in her own person the undying deeds of antiquity, I can promise a fame worth more than all the laurels of the old British queen, the heartfelt thanks and love of her countrymen, and above all of her country-women--over whose more kindly and unsuspicious natures the deadly Upas-tree of Romanism has cast its poisonous shade. Where is the Jael who will destroy this Sisera?'”
Miss Davies ceased. Her voice sank. No sound was heard but the snuffle that came from the plush arm-chair opposite, where Miss Pritchett was audibly weeping. Mr. Hamlyn's purple prose had been skilfully introduced at the psychological moment. The woman's ill-balanced temperament was awry and smarting. Her egregious vanity was wounded as it had rarely been wounded before. She had been treated as of no account, and she was burning with spite and the longing for revenge.
Gussie said nothing more. She let the words of the newspaper do their work without a.s.sistance.
Presently Miss Pritchett looked up. She wiped her eyes and a grim expression of determination came out upon her face.
”I see it all!” she said suddenly. ”My trusting nature has been terribly deceived; I have been led into error by evil counsellors; the power of the Jesuits has been secretly brought to bear upon one who, whatever her failings, has scorned suspicion!”
”Oh, Miss Pritchett, how _awful_!” said Gussie.
”Yes,” continued the lady with a delighted shudder, ”the net has been thrown over me and I was nigh to perish. But Providence intervenes! I see how I am to be the 'umble instrument of crus.h.i.+ng error in the Church. I shall step into the breach!”
”Oh, Miss Pritchett, how _n.o.ble_!”
”Miss Davies, you will kindly put on your jacket and walk round to Mr.
Hamlyn's house. See Mr. Hamlyn and tell him that Miss Pritchett is too agitated by recent events to write personally, but she begs he will favour her with his company at supper to discuss matters of great public importance. Tell Jones to send up some sweetbreads at once, and inform cook as a gentleman will be here to supper, and to serve the cold salmon.”
Gussie rose quickly. ”Oh, Miss Pritchett,” she cried, ”what a great day for England this will be!”
CHAPTER VII
THE OFFICES OF THE ”LUTHER LEAGUE”--AN INTERIOR
On the first floor of a building in the Strand, wedged in between a little theatre and a famous restaurant, the offices of the ”Luther League” were established, and by late autumn were in the full swing of their activity.
Visitors to this stronghold of Protestantism mounted a short flight of stairs and arrived in a wide pa.s.sage. Four or five doors opening into it all bore the name of the a.s.sociation in large letters of white enamel.
The first door bore the legend:
”PUBLIs.h.i.+NG AND GENERAL OFFICE INQUIRIES”
This room, the one by which the general public were admitted to the inner sanctuaries, was a large place fitted up with desks and gla.s.s compartments in much the same way as the ordinary clerks' office of a business house. A long counter divided the room, and upon it were stacked piles of the newly published pamphlet literature of the League.
Here could be seen that stirring narrative, _Cowed by the Confessional; or, The Story of an English Girl in the Power of the ”Priests.”_ This publication, probably the cheapest piece of p.o.r.nography in print at the moment, was published, with an ill.u.s.tration, at three pence. Upon the cover a priest--for some unexplained reason in full eucharistic vestments--was pointing sternly to the armour-plated door of a grim confessional, while a trembling lady in a large picture hat shrunk within.