In the first place, the decorous, kind-hearted, simple,
old-fashioned gentleman, had unconsciously called out, by his own
refinement and courteousness of manner, all the latent courtesy
in the other.
Mr. Hale treated all his fellow-creatures alike: it never entered
into his head to make any difference because of their rank. He
placed a chair for Nicholas stood up till he, at Mr. Hale's
request, took a seat; and called him, invariably, 'Mr. Higgins,'
instead of the curt 'Nicholas' or 'Higgins,' to which the
'drunken infidel weaver' had been accustomed. But Nicholas was
neither an habitual drunkard nor a thorough infidel. He drank to
drown care, as he would have himself expressed it: and he was
infidel so far as he had never yet found any form of faith to
which he could attach himself, heart and soul.
Margaret was a little surprised, and very much pleased, when she
found her father and Higgins in earnest conversation--each
speaking with gentle politeness to the other, however their
opinions might clash. Nicholas--clean, tidied (if only at the
pump-trough), and quiet spoken--was a new creature to her, who
had only seen him in the rough independence of his own
hearthstone. He had 'slicked' his hair down with the fresh water;
he had adjusted his neck-handkerchief, and borrowed an odd
candle-end to polish his clogs with and there he sat, enforcing
some opinion on her father, with a strong Darkshire accent, it is
true, but with a lowered voice, and a good, earnest composure on
his face. Her father, too, was interested in what his companion
was saying. He looked round as she came in, smiled, and quietly
gave her his chair, and then sat down afresh as quickly as
possible, and with a little bow of apology to his guest for the
interruption. Higgins nodded to her as a sign of greeting; and
she softly adjusted her working materials on the table, and
prepared to listen.
'As I was a-sayin, sir, I reckon yo'd not ha' much belief in yo'
if yo' lived here,--if yo'd been bred here. I ax your pardon if I
use wrong words; but what I mean by belief just now, is
a-thinking on sayings and maxims and promises made by folk yo'
never saw, about the things and the life, yo' never saw, nor no
one else. Now, yo' say these are true things, and true sayings,
and a true life. I just say, where's the proof? There's many and
many a one wiser, and scores better learned than I am around
me,--folk who've had time to think on these things,--while my
time has had to be gi'en up to getting my bread. Well, I sees
these people. Their lives is pretty much open to me. They're real
folk. They don't believe i' the Bible,--not they. They may say
they do, for form's sake; but Lord, sir, d'ye think their first
cry i' th' morning is, "What shall I do to get hold on eternal
life?" or "What shall I do to fill my purse this blessed day?
Where shall I go? What bargains shall I strike?" The purse and
the gold and the notes is real things; things as can be felt and
touched; them's realities; and eternal life is all a talk, very
fit for--I ax your pardon, sir; yo'r a parson out o' work, I
believe. Well! I'll never speak disrespectful of a man in the
same fix as I'm in mysel'. But I'll just ax yo another question,
sir, and I dunnot want yo to answer it, only to put in yo'r pipe,
and smoke it, afore yo' go for to set down us, who only believe
in what we see, as fools and noddies. If salvation, and life to
come, and what not, was true--not in men's words, but in men's
hearts' core--dun yo' not think they'd din us wi' it as they do
wi' political 'conomy? They're mighty anxious to come round us
wi' that piece o' wisdom; but t'other would be a greater
convarsion, if it were true.' 'But the masters have nothing to do with your religion. All that
they are connected with you in is trade,--so they think,--and all
that it concerns them, therefore, to rectify your opinions in is
the science of trade.' 'I'm glad, sir,' said Higgins, with a curious wink of his eye,
'that yo' put in, "so they think." I'd ha' thought yo' a
hypocrite, I'm afeard, if yo' hadn't, for all yo'r a parson, or
rayther because yo'r a parson. Yo' see, if yo'd spoken o'
religion as a thing that, if it was true, it didn't concern all
men to press on all men's attention, above everything else in
this 'varsal earth, I should ha' thought yo' a knave for to be a
parson; and I'd rather think yo' a fool than a knave. No offence,
I hope, sir.' 'None at all. You consider me mistaken, and I consider you far
more fatally mistaken. I don't expect to convince you in a
day,--not in one conversation; but let us know each other, and
speak freely to each other about these things, and the truth will
prevail. I should not believe in God if I did not believe that.
Mr. Higgins, I trust, whatever else you have given up, you
believe'--(Mr. Hale's voice dropped low in reverence)--'you
believe in Him.' Nicholas Higgins suddenly stood straight, stiff up. Margaret
started to her feet,--for she thought, by the working of his
face, he was going into convulsions. Mr. Hale looked at her
dismayed. At last Higgins found words: 'Man! I could fell yo' to the ground for tempting me. Whatten
business have yo' to try me wi' your doubts? Think o' her lying
theere, after the life hoo's led and think then how yo'd deny me
the one sole comfort left--that there is a God, and that He set
her her life. I dunnot believe she'll ever live again,' said he,
sitting down, and drearily going on, as if to the unsympathising
fire. 'I dunnot believe in any other life than this, in which she
dreed such trouble, and had such never-ending care; and I cannot
bear to think it were all a set o' chances, that might ha' been
altered wi' a breath o' wind. There's many a time when I've
thought I didna believe in God, but I've never put it fair out
before me in words, as many men do. I may ha' laughed at those
who did, to brave it out like--but I have looked round at after,
to see if He heard me, if so be there was a He; but to-day, when
I'm left desolate, I wunnot listen to yo' wi' yo'r questions, and
yo'r doubts. There's but one thing steady and quiet i' all this
reeling world, and, reason or no reason, I'll cling to that. It's
a' very well for happy folk'---Margaret touched his arm very softly. She had not spoken before,
nor had he heard her rise.