’I cannot fathom, and you, apparently, cannot at all understand, her idea of the sanctity of the marriage vow.  But if you knew anything about her, I think you would refrain from threatening her with divine wrath; and as you know nothing about her, I regard such threats, coming from you, as impertinent, unmanly, inhuman, and blasphemous.’  Mr. Caldigate had commenced this conversation, though vehemently, still in so argumentative a manner, and in his allusions to the lady’s romantic and superstitious ideas had seemed to yield so much, that the terrible vigour of his last words struck the poor clergyman almost to the ground.  One epithet came out after another, very clearly spoken, with a pause between each of them; and the speaker, as he uttered them, looked his victim close in the face.  Then he walked slowly away, leaving Mr. Smirkie fixed to the ground.  What had he done?  He had simply made a gentle allusion to the next world, as, surely, it was his duty to do.  Whether this old pagan did or did not believe in a next world himself, he must at any rate be aware that it is the peculiar business of a clergyman to make such references.  As to ‘impertinent’ and ‘unmanly,’ he would let them go by.  He was, he conceived, bound by his calling to be what people called impertinent, and manliness had nothing to do with him.  But ‘inhuman’ and blasphemous!’ Why had he come all the way over from Plum-cum-Pippins, at considerable personal expense, except in furtherance of that highest humanity which concerns itself with eternity?  And as for blasphemy, it might, he thought, as well be said that he was blasphemous whenever he read the Bible aloud to his flock!  His first idea was to write an exhaustive letter on the subject to Mr. Caldigate, in which he would invite that gentleman to recall the offensive words.  But as he drove his gig into the parsonage yard at Plum-cum-Pippins, he made up his mind that this, too, was among the things which a Christian minister should bear with patience.

But the dropping water always does hollow the stone,—­hollow it a little though the impression may not be visible to the naked eye.  Even when rising in his wrath, Mr. Caldigate had crushed the clergyman by the violence of his language,—­having been excited to anger chiefly by the thick-headedness of the man in not having understood the rebuke intended to be conveyed by his earlier and gentler words,—­even when leaving the man, with a full conviction that the man was crushed, the old Squire was aware that he, the stone, was being gradually hollowed.  Hester was now very dear to him.  From the first she had suited his ideas of a wife for his son.  And her constancy in her misery had wound itself into his heart.  He quite understood that her welfare should now be his great care.  There was no one else from whom she would listen to a word of advice.  From her husband, whose slightest word would have been a law to her, no word could now come.  From her own family she was entirely estranged, having been