They believed that people who did not go to church
would stand a very poor chance of heaven; and that a strict
observance of a Sunday religion would ensure them a passport into
God's favour. When they returned from divine service and mangled the
character and attire of their neighbours over the Sunday dinner-
table, no idea entered their heads or hearts that they had sinned
against the Holy Ghost. The pastor of their church knew them to be
selfish, worldly-minded women; yet he administered the holy sacrament
to them without compunction of conscience, and never by question or
remark implied a doubt of their true sincerity in things religious.
They believed in the creed of his church, and they paid liberally for
the support of that church. What more could he ask?
This had been true of the pastor in Beryngford, and it proved equally
true of their spiritual adviser in Washington and in New York.
Just across the aisle from the Lawrences sat a rich financier, in his
sumptuously cushioned pew. During six days of each week he was
engaged in crushing life and hope out of the hearts of the poor,
under his juggernaut wheels of monopoly. His name was known far and
near, as that of a powerful and cruel speculator, who did not
hesitate to pauperise his nearest friends if they placed themselves
in his reach.
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