On receiving this letter the Superioress
conferred not with flesh and blood, but sent for
Mrs. Ginx. That worthy woman was not
enchanted with her child's position. I have
hinted that her faith was simple, but in
proportion to its simplicity it was strongly-rooted
in her nature. 'Tis not infrequent to find it so.
Lengthy creeds and confessions of faith are
apt to extend the strength and fervor of belief
over too wide a surface. In the close frame
of some single article will be concentrated
the whole energy of the soul. The first
formula, "Repent and believe in the Lord
Jesus Christ,'' was maintained with a heat
that became less intense, though more distributed,
in the insertion of an Athanasian
creed. Mrs. Ginx's creed was succinct.
MRS. GINX'S PRIMARY CREED.
-
I believe in God, giver of bread, meat, money,
and health.
This she maintained, with indifferent ritual
and devotional observances. But there was
to Mrs. Ginx's faith a corollary or secondary
creed, only needed to meet special emergencies.
MRS. GINX'S SECONDARY CREED.
-
1. I believe in the Church of England.
-
2. I believe in Heaven and Hell.
-
3. (A negative article) I hate Popery, priests,
and the Devil.
When her husband made his fatal gift to
the nun, this third article of his wife's belief,
or unbelief, stirred up and waxed aggressive.
Said the Lady Superior, "My good woman,
your child thrives under the care of Holy
Mother Church.''
"Yes'm, he thrives well,'' replies Mrs. Ginx,
repeating no more of Sister Suspiciosa's sentence,
"an' I've 'ad more milk than ever for
the darlin' this time, thank God.''
"And the Holy Virgin.''
"I dunno about her,'' cries Mrs. Ginx
emphatically, perhaps not seeing congruity
between a virgin and the subject of thankfulness.
"And the Holy Virgin,'' repeated the nun,
"who interests herself in all mothers. She
has thus blessed you that your child may
be made strong for the work of the Church.
Do you not see a miracle is worked within
you to prove Her goodness? This, no doubt,
is an evidence to you of Her wish to bless
you and take you for Her own. I beseech
you listen to Her voice, and come and enter
Her fold.''
"If you mean the Virgin Mary, mum, I
ain't a idolater, beggin' yer parding,'' says
Mrs. Ginx; "an' tho' I wouldn't for the world
offend them as has been so kind to my child,
an' saved it from that deer little creetur bein'
thrown over Wauxhall Bridge—an' Ginx
ought to be ashamed of hisself, so he ought—
I ain't Papish, mum, and I ain't dispoged, with
twelve on 'em there at home all Protestant
to the back bone, to turn Papish now, an'
so I 'ope an' pray, mum,'' says Mrs. Ginx,
roaring and crying, "you ain't agoin' to
make Papish of my flesh an' blood. O dear!
O dear!''
The Lady Superior shut her ears; she had
raised a familiar spirit and could not lay it.
She temporized.
"You know your husband has given the
child to us. It will be called the infant
Ambrosius.''
"Dear, dear!'' sighed Mrs. Ginx, "what a
name! ''
"We wish him to be kept from any worldly
taint, and by-and-by his saintliness may gain
you forgiveness in spite of your heretical
perversity. I cannot permit you to give him
unconsecrated milk, and as we wish to treat
you kindly, the holy Father Certificatus has
allowed me to make an arrangement with
you, to which you can have no objection—I
mean, that you should let me make the sign
of the cross upon your breasts morning and
evening before you suckle your infant. You
will permit me to do that, won't you?''
Conceive of Mrs. Ginx's reply, clothed in
choice Westminster English: it asserted her
readiness to cut off her right hand, her feet,
to be hanged, drowned, burned, torn to pieces,
in fact to withstand all the torments ascribed
by vulgar tradition to Roman Catholic ingenuity,
and to see her baby "a dead corpse''
into the bargain, before she would submit
her Protestant bosom to such an indignity.
"No, mum!'' she said; "I couldn't sleep
with that on my breast;'' and cried hysterically.
This lower class heretic was "brutally
refractory.'' So thought the Superioress, and
so gave Mrs. Ginx notice to come no more.
She went home rather jubilant—she was a
martyr.
