You perhaps understand what I mean, Mr. Benson. I can no longer
attend your chapel."
If Mr. Benson had felt any hope of making Mr. Bradshaw's
obstinate mind receive the truth, that he acknowledged and
repented of his connivance at the falsehood by means of which
Ruth had been received into the Bradshaw family, this last
sentence prevented his making the attempt. He simply bowed and
took his leave--Mr. Bradshaw attending him to the door with
formal ceremony.
He felt acutely the severance of the tie which Mr. Bradshaw had
just announced to him. He had experienced many mortifications in
his intercourse with that gentleman, but they had fallen off from
his meek spirit like drops of water from a bird's plumage; and
now he only remembered the acts of substantial kindness rendered
(the ostentation all forgotten)--many happy hours and pleasant
evenings--the children whom he had loved dearer than he thought
till now--the young people about whom he had cared, and whom he
had striven to lead aright. He was but a young man when Mr.
Bradshaw first came to his chapel; they had grown old together;
he had never recognised Mr. Bradshaw as an old familiar friend so
completely as now when they were severed.
It was with a heavy heart that he opened his own door. He went to
his study immediately; he sat down to steady himself into his
position.
How long he was there--silent and alone--reviewing his
life--confessing his sins--he did not know; but he heard some
unusual sound in the house that disturbed him--roused him to
present life.
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