He was conscious to himself, I repeat, of nothing to cause him shame, and in the tramp of his boots there was certainly no self-abasement.

It was true he performed next to none of the duties of the rectorship--but then neither did he turn any of its income to his own uses; part he paid his curate, and the rest he laid out on the church, which might easily have consumed six times the amount in desirable, if not absolutely needful repairs.

What further question could be made of the matter?
the church had her work done, and one of her most precious buildings preserved from ruin to the bargain.

How indignant he would have been at the suggestion that he was after all only an idolater, worshiping what he called _The Church_, instead of the Lord Christ, the heart-inhabiting, world-ruling king of heaven! But he was a very good sort of idolater, and some of the Christian graces had filtered through the roofs of the temple upon him--eminently those of hospitality and general humanity--even uprightness so far as his light extended; so that he did less to obstruct the religion he thought he furthered, than some men who preach it as on the house-tops.
It was from policy, not from confidence in Mrs.Ramshorn, that he went to her first.

He liked his curate, and every one knew she hated him.