’Mother did not often go to church,’ said Hermie discontentedly. ’I don’t remember her talking religion much.’
’She breathed it instead,’ he said; ’she is the best woman in the world, never forget that, Hermie. When we were first married I was full of the young university man’s talk—brain at war with established doctrines. She never came over weakly to me, as some women might have done, she never kept spotlessly aloof, indeed, she conceded me freely many of my points. But she managed to make it plain to me that all these questions mattered very little—Christ, and prayer, and love, and doing our best—those were her rocks, and waves of dogma washing for ever on them could not move them.’
’Did she ever read any of those books of yours—those on the top shelf?’ whispered Hermie.
’Ah,’ said Cameron, ’you have been reading those, have you? Oh yes, she was never afraid to read anything that was written, but she distinguished between faith and creed. She said she did not try to explain or understand God, only to believe in Him. She is quite right. It is the hard names, the popular orthodoxies, the iron creeds, that take the soul and heart and warmth out of religion. When you were little, she did nothing more than show you God as your Father, and Christ as your Saviour, to be tenderly loved and obeyed, and gone to for refuge and comfort.’
’No; it was her way. She wanted the love of God to be a living thing to you all—a glad, warm, spontaneous thing, like the love you bore us, only deeper. She would have no lines and rules and analyses of it while you were small. It was not a thing she actually spoke about very often, but white hours, find room for themselves at times—on plain Mondays and Saturdays as often as on quiet Sundays, and she had a way of making the influence of them run, clear, fresh, pleasant streams through the mud-flats of life. Can you realise in any degree what it is to me to find her daughter with such thoughts, Hermie?’ His voice was very low. Hermie pulled the pin from the plain tight knob, and let all her hair hide her flushed face again.
’If—if only I had known you thought like this!’ she muttered.
’Yes,’ he said; ’it is a thing I shall never be able to put away from my mind again, that I did not let you know. A man gets in the way of keeping quiet things like these to himself, but I should not have forgotten I had children. I knew Miss Browne was a good woman, whatever her faults, and I felt that I might leave you to her. Don’t think I am excusing myself.’
