The First Soprano | Page 8

a turn in the road and parted. Hubert had had a more
animated conversation with his sister's friend than he remembered ever
to have had before. He strode on alone through the park whither his
steps had taken him, still pursuing the same line of thought.
"No," he reflected, "why should I seek to communicate my doubts? I
never knew a man to be worse for believing in Jesus Christ. I believe
some men have been better for it. Certainly I do not admire the
company I am in."
His mind reviewed a company such as would be called together by an
infidel cause, and he recoiled from it. He saw socialist faces of the
baser type, ready but for the occasion to blossom into anarchism; he
saw clever women whose bold loosening of the yoke of conventional
religion had relaxed also the hold of conventional morals, and he was
glad Winifred was not among them; he saw the face of Doctor
Bossman, the leader of the cause, tall, massive-browed, handsome, with
bold, full, outstanding eyes, a man of defiant words, of jovial
popularity, and egregiously self-centered. Into the young man's mind,
in contrast to the proud face, there flashed fragments of the words of
the Nazarene: "Except ye be converted, and become as little children!"
He saw other faces not so typical, and found himself seated amongst
them, and abhorred the fraternity cemented by a common unbelief--a
cold negation. He was unhappy. He found no territory on which to
stand. He hated the cant and formalism that chilled him in the
fashionable church. He hated the insolent creed of the deist, and the
ignorance of the agnostic. He seemed to be hating almost all things
with himself included. If he had been sure there was a God who heard
mortals pray, he would have cried to Him to deliver him from so
wretched a position. But he roused himself from his reverie and sought
to throw to the winds his unhappy feelings. He walked back to the
house endeavoring to think of to-morrow's business, and determining to
give himself to an interesting book when he got there.
Winifred had a headache which was opportune. By it she excused
herself from tea and from church that evening. Her father carried her
apologies to the leader of the choir. Mr. Gray alone of the family

listened to the evening discourse, and he listened well, for the young
minister spoke again with truth and earnestness. The machinery of the
meeting moved smoothly, and George Frothingham sang with much
feeling, "If with all your hearts ye truly seek Him."
In Winifred's room the light burned late. The battle waged there saw
many tears and the confirmation of the edict put forth in the morning
service that the false god must be taken from its niche in the house of
the Lord.
"I will not be a hypocrite," Winifred said to herself. "I will not go
through a theatrical display, however refined and solemn, and call it
worship. I am no true worshiper."
Then she burst into fresh tears, in which mingled grief that she was not
a worshiper, and sorrow that she must leave an occupation and
associations so dear. It seemed like taking out a good part of her life,
for Winifred was young, and things loved were ardently loved.
There was one who contested the ground with her in her room that
night, and told her she was no worse than others, that they were as
thoughtless and insincere as she; that her course and theirs passed under
the common sanction of churches everywhere, and that there was no
reason why she should be singular amongst all others. Why should she
be disturbed from the commonly accepted course by a single sermon
preached by a stranger, and he a young man? Doctor Schoolman had
never said such things. She might at least wait and talk it over with him
or some wise person. He might be able to show her that God did not
really care whether people quite meant what they said in singing, and
that it was a meritorious thing, as she had always thought, to sing about
Him to other people and to sing well. It might do people good. Some
people had actually wept sometimes!
The last thought was very striking, for Winifred did not know well the
Word which is able to discriminate between soul and spirit, and she
mistook emotion for some sign of spirituality. These arguments pressed
hard, and had in their favor the natural leaning of the heart that longed
to go on with the loved employment. But there was another longing too,

and it was to be honest. And underneath all was the true beginning of
wisdom--the fear of God.
"The minister told the