"Even as did Sampson of old," interrupted Burrell--"even as Sampson of
old smote them--with the jawbone of an ass."
"Even so," replied Jonas, who, with all his bitterness, was nothing
worse than a simple-minded enthusiast, and never imagined that Sir
Willmott's words could convey aught than approbation of his zeal, and
the right spirit that dwelt within him;--"even so; and it rejoiceth me
to find thee apt and prompt in scriptural passages. Verily, I am glad of
thy company; and as thou regrettest that the world's business prevented
thy attendance on the lamented dead, I care not if I bestow this my
present leisure unto thy edification, and repeat, nay, even enlarge
upon, the words I then delivered; which exercise will be finished before
mid-day--it is right that we labour unceasingly in the vineyard." So
saying he drew from his bosom a clasped Bible, and, to Burrell's dismay,
actually gave out the text, before he could resolve upon any plan to rid
himself of the intruder, whom he heartily wished at Tophet, if not
farther.
"My worthy friend, I would postpone the instruction you would give until
a more convenient season; I have urgent business to attend, and must
hasten its performance."
"Then will I gird up my loins, and accompany thee unto the very
threshold of the house where thou wouldst enter; and as we walk, I can
still convey the precious ointment of grace unto thy soul."
"The merciless old scoundrel!" muttered Burrell between his teeth; then
adding aloud, "Not so; your words are too costly to be given unto the
winds; and I cannot tarry so as to drink in the full draught of
satisfaction; let be, I pray you, and come down to Cecil Place to-night,
or on the morrow, and then many can worship with thee."
Fleetword paused, still holding the volume in his hand:--"Besides,"
continued Burrell, "what I have to accomplish is the Lord's work."
"The Lord's work--the Lord's work!" repeated Fleetword,--"then go forth;
why didst thou not confirm me that before? and I would have hastened,
not retarded thee; for, of a verity, my outward man warreth with the
inward, and these supporters of the flesh," pointing with his forefinger
to the thin and meagre limbs that scarcely merited the compliment, "grow
weary in well doing."
Burrell needed not a second hint to hasten, but proceeded on his way,
after receiving Fleetword's benediction with all due humility.
The preacher remained some time on the spot, and his thin upright
figure, seen from a distance, its outline so strongly marked against the
cold grey morning sky, had a singular effect. Burrell had plunged into a
dell or hollow, so that he was no longer visible.