ed Dr. Howe, his
voice shaking with anger, "shall not be over my head!"
"Then," said John slowly and gently, "you must listen now to what I have
to say."
"Must!" cried the rector.
"Yes, for it is your duty to listen, as it is mine to speak. I dare not
hear a servant of God set the opinion of the world above a conception
of duty--no matter how strained and unnatural the duty may appear to
him--and keep silence. I cannot listen when you urge Helen's temporal
happiness, and refuse to consider her eternal welfare, and not tell you
you are wrong. You evade the truth; you seek ease in Zion. I charge you,
by the sacred name of Him whose minister you are, that you examine your
own soul."
Dr. Howe looked at him, his face crimson with anger. "Sir," he stammered,
flinging the detaining hand from his arm,--"sir!" And then, for the first
time since Archibald Howe took orders, an oath burst from his lips; he
struck his stick madly against the table, and rushed from the room.
Alfaretta was lying in wait for him at the garden gate, a large and
rustic bunch of flowers in her hand, which she hoped he would carry to
Helen.
"How's Mrs. Ward?" she said, trying to detain him. "When will she be
home?"
"Get out of my way, girl!" he cried, and, slamming the gate behind him,
he strode down the street.
CHAPTER XXIX.
When Dr. Howe reached his own door, Helen was waiting for him.
She had been sitting on the porch alone for more than an hour. She had
been very quiet; there was none of that restlessness which excitement
produced in her uncle or cousin; but when she saw Dr. Howe, she rose, and
stood trembling at the head of the steps. The rector flung himself out of
the carriage almost before it stopped.
"I want to see you, Helen," he said. "I have something to say to you.
Come into the library."
She followed him silently, and when he had closed the door he turned and
looked at her. "Now, my child," he began, "you must listen to what I have
to say."
He stood with one hand on his hip, and lifted the forefinger of the other
as he spoke. "I have seen that man. I have been insulted by him. He is as
firm as the devil can make him that you shall not return to him. Now, I
have no right to interfere between husband and wife; you are entirely
free at any moment to follow any course you may wish. At the same time,
I must tell you that I shall respect you more if you do not return to
him. And I want to add one other thing:
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