But she missed the crest of the wave
both ways and fell in the trough; her views on religious
matters procured neither a witch's grave nor a prophet's
crown, but a sort of village contempt.
The Bible was her standard -- so far so good -- but
she emphasized the wrong parts of it. Instead of
magnifying the damnation of those who follow not the truth (as
the village understood it), she was content to semi-quote:
"Those that are not against me are with me," and
"A kind heart is the mark of His chosen." And then
she made a final utterance, an echo really of her father:
"If any man do anything sincerely, believing that thereby
he is worshipping God, he is worshipping God."
Then her fate was sealed, and all who marked the blazing
eyes, the hollow cheeks, the yet more hollow chest and
cough, saw in it all the hand of an offended God destroying
a blasphemer, and shook their heads knowingly when
the end came.
So Rolf was left alone in life, with a common school
education, a thorough knowledge of the Bible and of
"Robinson Crusoe," a vague tradition of God everywhere,
and a deep distrust of those who should have been his
own people.
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