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"Amory," he burst out as he walked, "if you didn't know anything about it, would you say that the prince could possibly have made her consent to marry him?" Amory, left in the middle of the great room, stood polishing his pince-nez exactly as if he had been waiting at the end of Chillingworth's desk of a bright, American morning.
And yet, take any sober, sane, thinking, educated man, and show him all that they had seen, subject him to all to which they had been subjected, and say if human reason, and all the arguments that the subtlest brain could back it with, would be able to hold out against such a vast accumulation of horrible evidences, and say "I don't believe it." Mr. Chillingworth's was the only plan.
Hooker, at the end of her reign, rests the argument of his "Ecclesiastical Polit" on reason; and this is still more decisively the case with Chillingworth's "Religion of Protestants" not fifty years later. The double movement of scepticism had overthrown its controlling authority.
"Shall I tell you?" said a deep-toned voice, and some one, through the orifice in the back of the summer-house, which, it will be recollected, sustained some damage at the time that Varney escaped from it, laid a hand upon Mr. Chillingworth's shoulder. "God bless me!" exclaimed the doctor; "who's that?" and he sprang from his seat with the greatest perturbation in the world.
I don't see any island," complained Little Cawthorne. "I tell you," he confided, "I guess it's just Chillingworth's little way of fixing up a nice long vacation for us." They smiled at memory of Chillingworth's grudging and snarling assents to even an hour off duty. From below came Bennietod, walking slowly.
Thus we are led to a fuller comprehension of Chillingworth's attitude as an exponent of the whole Puritan idea of spiritual government; and in his diabolical absorption and gloating interest in sin, we behold an exaggerated but logically exaggerated spectre of the Puritan attempt to precipitate and personally supervise the punishments of eternity on this side of death. Dr.
"Are you ready, adôn?" asked Jarvo and Akko at the same moment. "Ready!" cried St. George impatiently. "Ready," said Amory languidly, and added one thought more: "I hope for Chillingworth's sake," he said, "that Frothingham is a notary public. We'll have to have somebody's seal at the bottom of all this copy." The baskets were lightly lifted.
Chillingworth's voice," cried Henry. "Yes, and it's Mr. Chillingworth's person, too," said the doctor, as he emerged from among some laurel bushes. "How is this?" said Marchdale. "Simply that I made up my mind to keep watch and ward to-night outside here, in the hope of catching the vampyre. I got into here by climbing the gate." "But why did you not let me know?" said Henry.
Her only justification lay in the fact, that she had been able to discern no method of rescuing him from a blacker ruin than had overwhelmed herself, except by acquiescing in Roger Chillingworth's scheme of disguise. Under that impulse, she had made her choice, and had chosen, as it now appeared, the more wretched alternative of the two.
"Burn, destroy, and kill the vampyre! No vampyre; burn him out; down with him; kill him!" Then came Mr. Chillingworth's voice, who, with much earnestness, endeavoured to exhort them to moderation, and to refrain from violence.
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