“It is the moral want. You have no life here; and that which would least content me would be this very repose--the absence of provocation--the strife--the triumph! These, I take it, are the deficiencies which you really feel when you speak of the want of crag, and chasm, and waterfall.”
“You, too, are ambitious, then!” she said quickly; “but how do you reconcile this feeling with your profession?”
She looked up, and caught his eye tenderly fixed upon her.
“Ah!” said he, “Miss Cooper, there are some situations in which we find it easy to reconcile all discrepancies.”
If the language lacked explicitness, the look did not. He proceeded:--
“If I mistake not, Miss Cooper, you will be the last one to blame me for not having stifled my ambition, even at the calls of duty and profession.”
“Blame you, sir? Far from it. I should think you very unfortunate indeed, if you could succeed in stifling ambition at any calls, nor do I exactly see how duty should require it.”
“If I pursue the profession of the divine?” he answered hesitatingly.
“Yes--perhaps--but that is not certain?” There was some timidity in the utterance of this inquiry. He evaded it.
“I know not yet what I shall be,” he replied with an air of self-reproach; “I fear I have too much of this fiery ardor which we call ambition to settle down into the passive character of the preacher.”
“Oh, do not, do not!” she exclaimed impetuously; then, as if conscious of the impropriety, she stopped short in the sentence, while increasing her forward pace.
“What!” said he, “you think that would effectually stifle it?”
“Perhaps; but this depends upon the individual. Churchmen have a great power--the greatest in any country.”
“Over babes and sucklings!” she said scornfully.
“And, through these; over the hearts of men and women.”
“But these, too, are babes and sucklings--people to be scared by shadows--the victims of their own miserable fears and superstitions!”
“Nevertheless, these confer power. Where there is power, there is room for ambition. You recollect that churchmen have put their feet upon the necks of princes.”
“Yes, but that was when there was one church only in Christendom. It was a monopoly, and consequently a tyranny. Now there are a thousand, always in conflict, and serving very happily to keep each other from mischief. They no longer put their feet on princes' necks, though I believe that the princes are no better off for this forbearance--there are others who do. But only fancy that this time was again, and think of the comical figure our worthy brother John Cross would make, mounting from such a noble horse-block!”