"I remember it very well," answered Johnsen, with a smile; "it was just there I joined in the conversation."
"Yes; you declared that you would never, if you were ordained, mention the arms of the country in your prayers."
"Neither will I; nothing shall ever make me."
Rachel looked at him: he was in just the humour she liked to see him.
"I bring this to your recollection," she went on, "because I know now that there are many other duties which fall to the lot of a clergyman, that you will not be able altogether to reconcile with your convictions. In the course of our conversations you have expressed many decided opinions—for instance, about the Marriage Service, about Absolution, Confirmation, and several other matters; so that it now appears clear to me that you must either give up the idea of being ordained, or else be false to yourself."
"False to myself I cannot be," cried he; "I would rather give up my future prospects."
"But is that sufficient?"
"I don't understand you, Miss Garman,"
"Do you think that you would be doing yourself justice by thus evading the responsibility that your convictions give rise to? If I were a man"—Rachel drew herself up—"I would go and seek the conflict, and not shirk it."
"Neither will I shirk it, Miss Garman," answered Johnsen.
"I hope you won't; there are quite enough who do."
