In stature he was tall and well formed.  Proudly upright in his gait and attitude, he appeared like one born to be obeyed,—­to rule in whatsoever station he occupied.

“Sir Hugh Parker.  The parson of Slaidburn is welcome to Hornby,” said Lord Monteagle, rising.  “It is long since we have met.  I claim the privilege of old fellowship:  give me thy hand.”

“My lord, I am here at your request.  Your wishes are commands with my poor endeavours.”

“Thou mayest retire, Maudsley,” said the baron to his servant, motioning him to depart.  The minister was accommodated with a low stool, made vacant for the occasion.  Lord Monteagle, closing the book, abruptly addressed his visitor.

“I knew thou wast in the neighbourhood, and I would unravel a few arguments with thee; a few quiddities about thy profession.  I know thou art skilful at thy trade, which, though a vocation having its basis in fraud, finding countenance through the weakness and credulity of mankind, doth yet hold the commonalty in thrall and terror—­a restraint which none other scheme might peradventure impose.”

“You are too harsh, my lord.  I minister not to aught that, my conscience disapproves.  Being of the Reformed Church, I do not mightily affect creeds and opinions.  The Bible is the fountain, pure and undefiled; its waters fertilise and invigorate the seed of the faith, but choke and rot the rampant weeds of error and superstition.”

“The Bible!  A forgery:  the invention of a cunning priesthood to mask and perpetuate their delusions.  Prove its falsehoods to be the truth.  Distinguish me thy revelation from the impostures of Mahomet, the dreams of the Sibyls, and the lying oracles of Heathenrie.  Oblige me either to renounce my reason and the common principles which distinguish truth from error, or to admit the proof thou shalt allege, which proof, look thee, must be such as no imposture can lay claim to, otherwise it proves thy doctrine to be an imposture.  If thy religion be true, there must be such a proof.  For if the Being who gave this revelation which He requires all men to receive, have left His own truth destitute of the only proof which can distinguish it from an imposture, this will be an impeaching of His wisdom, an error in the very outset of the case, proving Him not the Allwise, but liable to infirmity and error.  This, thou seest, will bring our debate within a narrow compass.”

“Nevertheless, I must own the task is hard,” replied the clergyman, “because of the blindness and impotency of that same reason of which thou vauntest, and the feebleness of our mental sight; for we cannot come at any abstract truth whatsoever but by many inferences hanging together as by a chain, one link of which, not fully apprehended or made fast, loosens the whole, and the argument falls to the ground.”

“Does the reformed doctrine, too, require a belief in what the hearer may not comprehend?” said the baron, scornfully.