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blood and I will try to say it. Could you not have trusted a little these peasants whom you already trust so much? These men are men, and they meant something; even their fathers were not wholly fools. If your gardener told you of the trees you called him a madman, but he did not plan and plant your garden like a madman. You would not trust your woodman about these trees, yet you trusted him with all the others. Have you ever thought what all the work of the world would be like if the poor were so senseless as you think them? But no, you stuck to your rational principle. And your rational principle was that a thing must be false because thousands of men had found it true; that BECAUSE many human eyes had seen something it could not be there." He looked across at Ashe with a sort of challenge, but though the sea wind ruffled the old lawyer's red mane, his Napoleonic mask was unruffled; it even had a sort of beauty from its new benignity. "I am too happy just now in thinking how wrong I have been," he answered, "to quarrel with you, doctor, about our theories. And yet, in justice to the Squire as well as myself, I should demur to your sweeping inference. I respect these peasants, I respect your regard for them; but their stories are a different matter. I think I would do anything for them but believe them. Truth and fancy, after all, are mixed in them, when in the more instructed they are separate; and I doubt if you have considered what would be involved in taking their word for anything. Half the ghosts of those who died of fever may be walking by now; and kind as these people are, I believe they might still burn a witch. No, doctor, I admit these people have been badly used, I admit they are in many ways our betters, but I still could not accept anything in their evidence." The doctor bowed gravely and respectfully enough, and then, for the last time that day, they saw his rather sinister smile. "Quite so," he said. "But you would have hanged me on their evidence." And, turning his back on them, as if automatically, he set his face toward the village, where for so many years he had gone his round. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Trees of Pride, by G.K. Chesterton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREES OF PRIDE *** ***** This file should be named 1721.txt or 1721.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/2
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