In spite of the selfishness of this theory, which condemned so many
souls to perdition, Marchurst was a kindly natured man, and his
religion was more of an hallucination than anything else. He was
very clever at giving advice, and Madame Midas esteemed him highly
on this account. Though Marchurst had often tried to convert her,
she refused to believe in the shallow sophistries he set forth, and
told him she had her own views on religion, which views she declined
to impart to him, though frequently pressed to do so. The zealot
regretted this obstinacy, as, according to his creed, she was a lost
soul, but he liked her too well personally to quarrel with her on
that account, consoling himself with the reflection that sooner or
later, she would seek the fold. He was more successful with M.
Vandeloup, who, having no religion whatever, allowed Marchurst to
think he had converted him, in order to see as much as he could of
Kitty. He used to attend the Sunday services regularly, and
frequently came in during the week ostensibly to talk to Marchurst
about the doctrines of 'The Elect', but in reality to see the old
man's daughter.
On this bright afternoon, when everything was bathed in sunshine, Mr
Marchurst, instead of being outside and enjoying the beauties of
Nature, was mewed up in his dismal little study, with curtains
closely drawn to exclude the light, a cup of strong tea, and the
Bible open at 'The Lamentations of Jeremiah'.
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