"Even in the Post-pliocene, then," said the vicar, "it would appear that man believed in a hereafter."
"Ah, yes; it is an antique superstition, and even yet we have not outgrown it-Human progress is slow."
"And this face was raised to the blue sky ages ago, looking for God!"
Mr. Haldane shrugged his shoulders, and smiled grimly.
"How is it possible that you, who-must share the weaknesses and sorrows of the human heart, can so stoically accept the horrible prospect of annihilation?" asked the vicar, half angrily.
"I accept truths. Do you imagine I prefer annihilation? I could wish that life were ordered otherwise, but wishing' cannot change an eternal system. Immortality cannot be achieved by defying' annihilation."
"Have you realized death?" exclaimed the vicar, passionately. "Can you, dare you, look forward to a time when, say, your wife shall lie cold and lifeless,--and hold to the doctrine that you have lost her for ever, that never again shall your spirit mingle with hers, that you and she are for all eternity divorced?"
"You appeal to the passions, and not to the reason," replied Mr. Haldane, coldly. "What holds good for the beast which perishes, holds good for all of us, and will hold good for those who come after us, and who will be greater and nobler than we."
"Be it so," replied the vicar, in an undertone. As he spoke he bit his lip, and his cheek coloured. The thought was not meant for utterance, but it slipped into words before he was aware. For the full significance of that thought was a singular exemplification of the conflicting spiritual and animal natures of the man. That divorce of death which had been pronounced inevitable opened before him, in a dreamy vista of the future, a new world of ecstatic beatitude, where his soul and the radiant spirit of the woman who stood beside him should be mingled together in indissoluble communion.
|Shortly afterwards Mrs. Haldane suggested that they should take a turn about the grounds, instead of wasting the sunshine indoors. As they left the chapel the vicar paused and looked back at the ivy-draped building, with its half-hidden lancets.
"You have turned a sacred edifice to a strange use," he said. "Here, within the walls where past generations have dwelt and worshipped, you have set up your apparatus for the destruction of man's holiest heritage. Pardon me if I speak warmly, but to me this appears to be sacrilege."