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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36538-8.txt b/36538-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6e72ab --- /dev/null +++ b/36538-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9007 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Playing With Fire, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Playing With Fire + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Illustrator: Howard Heath + +Release Date: June 27, 2011 [EBook #36538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE *** + + + + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + + PLAYING WITH FIRE + + BY AMELIA E. BARR + +AUTHOR OF "ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE," "THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON," ETC. + + + "<i>Truth is like water; the moment it stands it + stagnates; creeds are merely stagnant truth._" + + + ILLUSTRATED BY + HOWARD HEATH + + WILLIAM BRIGGS + TORONTO + 1914 + + COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + Printed in the United States of America + + + WITH SINCERE RESPECT AND EVERY GOOD WISH + I INSCRIBE THIS NOVEL + TO + WILLIAM JOHN MATHESON, ESQ. + OF HUNTINGTON, LONG ISLAND + + + + + +[Illustration: "'Good-bye, Richard!' she cried. 'Good-bye, dearest of +all!'"] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. THE MINISTER'S FAMILY + +II. LORD RICHARD CRAMER + +III. DONALD PLEASES HIS FATHER + +IV. THE GREAT TEMPTATION + +V. THE MINISTER IN LOVE + +VI. DONALD TAKES HIS OWN WAY + +VII. MARION DECIDES + +VIII. MACRAE LEARNS A HARD LESSON + +IX. WHEN WILL THE NIGHT BE PAST? + +X. A DREAM + +XI. LOVE IS THE FULFILLING OF THE LAW + +XII. AFTERWARD + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"'Good-bye, Richard!' she cried. 'Good-bye, dearest of all!'" + +"There came again to her that singular sense of a past familiarity" + +"She smiled and laid her jeweled white hand confidingly on his" + +"The descent seemed steep and dark" + + + + +PLAYING WITH FIRE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MINISTER'S FAMILY + + An high priest clothed with doctrine and with truth.--ESDRAS I: + 5:40. + + +Glasgow is the city of Human Power. It is not a beautiful city, but the +gray granite of which it is built gives it a natural nobility. There is +nothing romantic about its situation, and its streets are too often +steeped in wet, gray mist, or wrapped in yellowish vapor. But there are +no loungers in them. The crowd is a busy, hard-working crowd, whose +civic motto is Enterprise and Perseverance. They made the river that +made the city, and then established on its banks those immense +shipbuilding yards, whose fleets take the river to the ocean, and the +ocean to every known port of the world. + +It is also a very religious city. Its inhabitants do not forget that +they are mortals, though no doubt mortals of a superior order, and the +number of churches they have built is amazing. It is impossible to walk +far in any direction without coming face to face with one. I am writing +of the midway years of the nineteenth century, when there was one church +among the many that all strangers were advised to visit. It was not the +Cathedral, nor the old Ram's Horn Kirk; it was a large, plain building, +called the Church of the Disciples. No one could find it to-day, for it +stood upon a corner that became necessary to the trade of a certain +great street. Then the Church of the Disciples disappeared, and handsome +shops devoted to business of many kinds rose in its place. + +This church derived its fame from its minister, a very handsome man, of +great scholarly attainments and a preponderance of that quality we call +"presence." Even when at twenty-three years of age he stepped from the +halls of St. Andrew's into the pulpit of the Church of the Disciples, +elders, deacons, and the whole congregation succumbed to his influence. +And when, after twenty-one years of service, he made his dramatic exit +from that pulpit he still held his congregation in the hollow of his +hand. + +He was a Highlander of the once powerful house of Macrae; tall among his +brethren as was Saul among his people. His face was darkly handsome, and +made doubly attractive by a shadowy Celtic pathos. His eyes were +piercing but sad, his voice grand and resonant, suiting well the +wrathful, impassioned Calvinism of his sermons. For he was a Pharisee +of Pharisees touching every tittle of the law laid down by that troubler +of mankind called John Calvin. + +One evening in the beginning of June he went to his home after a rather +unimportant session with his elders. He had taken his own way as usual, +and was not in the least moved by the slight opposition he had been +compelled to silence. With a slow, stately step he walked up the wide +spaces of Bath Street until he came to the handsome residence in which +he dwelt. He had no time to open the door; it was gently set wide by a +girl who stood just within its shelter. A tinge of pleasure came into +the minister's face, and when she said in a low, sweet voice: + +"_Father!_" he answered her in one word full of tenderness: + +"_Marion!_" + +They went into the parlor together. It was the ordinary parlor of its +day, inartistic and comfortably ugly, but withal suitable and pleasant +to the generation, who found in it their ideal of "home." A Brussels +carpet covered the floor, the furniture was of mahogany upholstered in +black horse-hair cloth. There were crimson damask curtains at the +windows, a crimson cloth on the large center table, and a soft large rug +before the bright steel grate, which held a handful of fire, though it +was a fine day in the early part of June. The chimneypiece was of dark +marble; on it there were two bronze figures and a handsome clock, above +it a very large picture of Queen Victoria's coronation. It was a parlor +duplicated in every respectable residence. Such rooms were comfortable +and serviceable and very suitable to the big men who occupied them. + +The minister felt its pleasant "use and wont," and with a sigh of relief +took the easy-chair his daughter drew to the fireside. Then she brought +him a glass of water and his slippers, went for the mail which had come +during his absence, lit the gas, and in many other ways fluttered so +lovingly about him that it was amazing he hardly seemed to notice her +affectionate service. An American father would have drawn the girl to +his side, given her sweet words and tender kisses, and doubtless Dr. +Macrae felt all the affection necessary for this result, but he had +never seen fathers pet their daughters, never been told to do so, had no +precedents to go by, and, on the contrary, had been constantly +instructed both by precept and example that women were not "to be put +too much forward, or given too much praise." Service was the duty of the +women in any household, and men were born with the expectation of it in +their blood. So Dr. Macrae watched and felt and admired and loved, but +made no attempt to express his feelings, and Marion did not expect it. + +Dr. Macrae had lifted a paper, but he soon laid it down, and asked +impatiently: "Marion, where is Aunt Jessy?" + +"She will be here anon, Father--here she comes!" and at the words a +little woman wearing a gray dress, a white lace tippet, and a small +white lace cap, set with pink bows, entered. She was rather pretty, and +sweet and homely as honey. A maid carrying the simple supper of the +family accompanied her. Dr. Macrae looked at her pleasantly, and she +said: + +"Well, Ian!" + +That was all, until the boiled oatmeal and milk, and the toasted cakes +and cheese were spread upon the table. But as soon as the minister had +his plate of boiled oatmeal and his glass of milk before him, she +continued: + +"You are a bit late home to-night, Ian. I was wondering about it." + +"There was a useless kind of session--much talking about nothing." + +"Men must talk, especially when they are in session for that purpose. +What were they talking about?" + +"Many usual things, rather unusually, about the Bible." + +"What for were they meddling with the Book? They were hearing it, or +reading it, all day yesterday." + +"They were discussing the buying of a new Bible for the Church. Deacon +Laird proposed it. He said he had been noticing for a long time that the +pulpit Bible was frizzled and worn, and the cushion much faded; both of +them looking as they should not look in the Church of the Disciples." + +"And what words did you give them?" + +"I let them talk among themselves, until Elder Black said he knew a +place where a large Bible could be got at a very cheap figure, likewise +the cushion, and he would take time to ask the selling price of the same +this week." + +"Well?" + +"I said then: 'Elder, you will keep your silence concerning a cheap +Bible. I'll have no cheap Bible in my pulpit. You are grudging nothing +of the best for all your private necessities, and you will buy the House +of God what is fitting for it.'" + +"You spoke well. Now they will be looking for the best Bible in +Scotland. But what for did Deacon Laird raise that question, when the +congregation, in its most respectable part, is going down the water for +the summer months?" + +"He is young, and only just elected, and he was trying to do something +that none of the other deacons had thought of. That is my surmise. If I +wrong the man, I ask pardon." + +"He will have to pay for his bit of forwardness. The others will see to +it that he backs his proposal with his money." + +Dr. Macrae made no further remark on the subject. He took from his +pocket a letter and said: "I had a few lines from Lady Cramer, and she +tells me that the Little House will be unoccupied this summer. Some +unforeseen circumstances preventing Lady Kitty Baird's family visiting +her, she offers it to me for four or five months. If you could pack your +clothes to-morrow, you might remove there on Wednesday or Thursday, and, +by taking the train from Edinburgh, you would reach Cramer early in the +afternoon." + +"Do you mean that Marion and I are to go there?" + +"I do." + +"O Father, how very delightful! I am so happy!" + +"It is a pretty place. I saw it when I was last at Cramer. Also, it is +near the sea. You will like that, Marion." + +"We will both of us like it, Ian. I shall be glad to be near the hills +and the sea, and Marion is needing a change. But, Ian, you will have to +consider that, if we are going--in a manner--as Lady Cramer's friends or +guests, Marion will be asked--at odd times--to the Hall, and she must +have one or two frocks, and other things in accordance." + +"Marion can go to Stuart and McDonald's and get whatever she wants." + +Then Marion lifted her eyes and met her father's eyes, and she smiled +and nodded; and, though no word was spoken, both were well satisfied. + +"Now," continued Dr. Macrae, "I am going to my study to read. You will +have plenty to talk about. I should only be in your way." + +"Bide a minute, Ian; what about the servant lasses? You cannot shut up +this house. Donald--poor lad--must have some place to lay his head, and +eat his bread." + +"I suppose there are servants in the Little House. Lady Cramer said you +would require to bring nothing but your clothing. All else was +provided." + +"I will have my own servant girls, or none at all." + +"Will you be requiring more than one? You might take Aileen, and leave +Janet here to look after myself and Donald." + +"If that pleases you, I'll make it suit me." + +"Think, and talk over the matter. You will know your wish better in the +morning. Good night." + +The salutation was general, but he looked at Marion, and she answered +the look in a way he understood and approved. Then Mistress Caird +disappeared for half an hour, and when she returned to the parlor +Marion had completed her shopping list. + +"Aunt," she said, as she fluttered the bit of paper, "I have made out my +list. I want so many things, I fear the bill will be very large." + +"You need take no thought about the bill, dear. It will be a means of +grace for your father to pay it. It is very seldom he has a fit of the +liberalities. Teach him to open his hand now and then. A shut hand is a +shut heart." + +"But he was so prompt and kind about it. He never curtailed me in any +way. It is mean to take advantage of his trust and generosity." + +"You have to be mean to make men generous. You must keep your father's +hand open. Let me see your list." + +She read it with a smile, and then, laughing gaily, said: "Well, Marion, +if this is your idea of fine dressing, it is a very primitive one. You +must have at least one silk dress, and what about gloves and satin +slippers and silk stockings to wear with them? And you will require a +spangled fan, and satin sashes, and bits of lace, and there's no mention +of hats or parasols. It is a fragmentary document, Marion, and I am sure +you had better begin it over again, with Jessy Caird to help you." + +When this revision had been made, Marion was still more disturbed. "It +does seem too much, Aunt," she said. "I cannot treat Father in this +way. It is mean." + +"Now I will tell you something. I maybe ought to have told you before. +Listen! You are spending your own money, not his. Your mother left you +all she had, and got your father's promise to give you the interest of +it for your private spending, as soon as your school days were over. She +knew you would then be wanting this and that, and perhaps not be liking +to ask for it. Your father is just giving you your own. Spend it wisely, +and I have no doubt he will continue to give it to you at regular +periods." + +"That makes things different. My mother! Did I ever see her?" + +"She died when you were two days old. She saw you. From her breast I +took you to my heart, and I have loved you, Marion, as my own child." + +"I am your own child, Aunt. I love you with all my heart. Why did you +never talk to me of my mother before?" + +"Because it is always wise to let the Past alone. Give all your heart +and sense to the Priceless Present. You have nothing to do with the +unborn To-morrow or the dead Yesterday." + +"But my mother----" + +"Some day I'll tell you all about her. Did you notice how unconcerned +your father was regarding the house, and the servant girls--and your +brother, also?" + +"He advised us to take one girl and leave the other here. You said 'Yes' +to that proposal, Aunt." + +"He took me unawares. I shall say 'No' to it to-morrow. Men have an idea +that a house takes care of itself, that servants work naturally, and +that dinners are bought ready cooked. He knew enough, however, to choose +the best of the two girls to stay here. I am going to take both of them +with me. I will not be beholden to my Lady for servants, not I! I shall +send for old Maggie in the morning; she can look after the house and the +two men in it--fine!" + +"I wish Donald could go with us." + +"If he could, your father would not let him. He is very angry with +Donald, these six months past." + +"Why?" + +"He wanted him to go to St. Andrews to prepare for the ministry, and the +lad, who usually keeps his own good sense to the fore, forgot himself +and told his father--his father, mind you!--that he would 'not preach +Calvinism' if he got 'the city of Glasgow for doing it.' And the +minister was angry, and Donald got dour and then said a few words he +should not have said to anybody in a Calvinist minister's presence." + +"What did he say?" + +"He said he did not believe in Election. He said every soul was elect; +that even in hell Dives held fast to the fatherhood of God, and God +called Dives 'son.' He said Religion was not a creed, it was a Life, and +moreover, he said, Calvinism was a wall between the soul and God, and +what use was there in hewing out roads to a wall?" + +"Poor Father! Donald should not have said such things in his presence. +No, he should not! I am angry at Donald for doing so." + +"Well, the Macrae was aboon the Reverend that day. He was white angry. +He could not, he did not dare to, open his mouth. He just set the door +wide, and ordered Donald out with a wave of his hand." + +"Poor Donald! That was hard, too." + +"Yes, the Macraes are always + + ----'hard to themselves + And worse to their foes.' + +Donald just came to my room, and I left him alone to cry his young heart +out. But my heart was, and is, with Donald. He is man grown, and he has +a right to have his own opinions." + +"Maybe so, Aunt. But he should not throw his opinions like a stone in +Father's face." + +"Perhaps you'll do the same some day." + +"Me! Never! Never!" + +"I'm glad to hear that." + +"How came Donald to go to Reed and McBryne's shipping office?" + +"He spent the next few days miserably. He did not see his father save at +meal times, and the two of them never opened their mouths. So I said one +morning, 'A new housekeeper will be necessary here, for I will not eat +my bread like a dumb beast a day longer.' Then the mail brought the news +of the break-up in your school, and your father said to me as soon as we +were by ourselves, 'Jessy, you must see that Marion's room is made +pretty. She is a young lady now, and, if anything is needing, get it.'" + +"That was like Father's thoughtfulness." + +"The thought was not all for you. There were other serious +considerations, and he was keeping them in mind. I looked straight in +his face and asked, 'What are you going to do about Donald's future?' He +said, 'I do not know'; and I answered, 'You must find out, for, if I +stay here, something must be done for Donald this day, and I will not +require to tell you this again, Ian.'" + +"O Aunt! how could you speak, or even think, of leaving us? What would I +do here, wanting you?" + +"You did not have to want me, child, and I knew that. At the dinner hour +your father laid down his knife and fork in the middle of the dessert, +and said, 'Donald, you will go in the morning to Reed and McBryne's +shipping office. I have got you a clerkship there. The salary is small, +but your home will be here, and you will have few and trifling +expenses.'" + +"What answer did Donald make?" + +"He was red with passion when his father finished speaking, and he +answered quickly, 'I will not be a shipping clerk. No, sir! I will take +the Queen's shilling and go to the army. Macraes have ever been +fighters. I want no pen. I will have a sword. How can you ask me to be a +clerk, Father? It is cruel! Too cruel!'" + +"Poor Donald!" + +"I think his father felt as much as he did. He could not speak until he +saw the lad move his chair from the table. Then, in a very moderate +voice, he said, 'Stay, Donald, and listen to me. Honor as well as +prudence forbids you the army. You are the last male of our family, +except your aged uncle and myself. Its continuation rests with you. It +is a duty you would be a kind of traitor to ignore. After me, you are +_the_ Macrae. I know the world thinks little of the dead Highland clans, +but we think none the less of ourselves because of the world's +indifference. You will be _the_ Macrae; you must marry, and raise up +sons to keep the name alive. You cannot go to the army. You cannot put +your life constantly in jeopardy. Until something more to your liking +turns up, go to Reed and McBryne's. It is better than moping idly about +the house.'" + +"I think Father was right, Aunt." + +"Donald did not think so. He left the table without a word, but I could +see his father had fathomed him, and found out one weak spot. For as +soon as he said, 'You will be _the_ Macrae,' I saw the light that +flashed into Donald's eyes, and the way in which he straightened himself +to his full height. Then, bowing, he left the room without a yea or nay +in his mouth. Immediately afterward he left the house, but he did not +stay long, and then I had a straight talk with him. I knew where he had +been in the interval." + +"Where could he go but to you?" + +"He has a friend." + +"Matthew Ballantyne." + +"Just so. The lads love each other, and they are both daft about the +same thing--a violin. He went to Matthew, and Matthew told him to humor +his father and bide his time, and he would get his own way in the long +run." + +"Did that please you, Aunt?" + +"Yes, it makes my work easy. And I am going to be good to the lads. I am +going to tell Maggie to make them nice little suppers, and let them play +till midnight, while we are at Cramer Brae. That night you were at the +Lindseys' and your father at Stirling, I had them to supper. There was +three of them, one being a violinist in Menzie's orchestra. He was a few +years older than Donald and Matthew, but just as foolish as they were. +And after their merry meal they played the heart out of me." + +"O Aunt! Aunt! I shall have to stop at home and watch you. The idea of +you standing for Donald behind Father's back in this way. I would not +have believed it. You must love Donald." + +"What for wouldn't I love him? He is most entirely lovable, and when I +love I like to show it--to do foolish things to show it--ordinary things +are not worth as much." + +"I would not have thought it. You, so proper and respectable, making a +feast for three young men, who played the heart out of you with their +violins!" + +"Poor Donald has not a violin of his own, yet he plays better than +Matthew or the orchestra lad. How it comes I cannot tell, but he does, +and there's no 'ifs' or 'ands' about it." + +"Are violins dear things, Aunt?" + +"Too dear for Donald to buy, and he dare not ask his father for money to +buy a violin. Yes, Marion, violins cost a lot of money." + +"You say I have some money of my own." + +"What by that? You shall not ware it on a violin. Donald's violin will +come its own road, and that will not be out of your purse. There's the +clock striking twelve. Whatever are we doing here? I must have lost my +senses to be keeping you." + +"Don't mind an hour or two, Aunt. This has been the most wonderful night +to me. You have spoken of my mother. I have had an invitation to Lady +Cramer's. I have heard that I am, in a small way, an heiress. I have +learned all about the trouble between Father and Donald. I have made out +the list for a far finer wardrobe than I ever expected to own. I am +sorry this wonderful day is over." + +"But it is over, and it is now Tuesday. It will be Saturday before we +can be ready for Cramer Brae. You must stay here until your new frocks +are fitted, and that will make us Saturday. Now sleep well, for I shall +have you called at seven sharp." + +As Mrs. Caird anticipated, it was Saturday afternoon when they arrived +at Cramer Brae. The Cramer carriage was waiting to take them to the +Little House, which was more than a mile inland. It stood on the Brae at +the foot of the hills, and was shielded on the east and west by large +beech trees. The hills were behind, the sea in front of it, and when the +wind was lulled, or from the south, the roar and the beat of its waves +were distinctly heard. + +It was a long, low house. The leaded, diamond-shaped windows opened like +doors on their hinges, and flower boxes, drooping vines and blooms were +on every sill. Gardens and lawns, with a little paddock for the ponies +to run in, covered the six acres of land surrounding it. Marion was +delighted. "Here we shall be so happy, Aunt," she cried in a voice full +of sweet inflections, for she was thanking God in her heart for bringing +her to such a beautiful spot. + +Aileen and Kitty met them at the door and tea was waiting in the small +dining-room. There was a low bowl of pansies in the center of the table, +which was set with cream Wedgwood and silver of the date of Queen Anne. +Every necessity and every luxury for the hour were there, and a +wonderful peace brooded over all things. + +Marion was enchanted. "This place must be like Heaven," she said; and +Mrs. Caird answered, "I hope you are right. I cannot imagine any +circumstances much pleasanter. We may thank God even for this cup of +young Pekoe and thick cream, and delicate bread and fresh butter. They +are just a part of the whole blessing. I have heard of a great English +writer who thought that among many higher pleasures we should not miss +the homely delicacies of our earthly table. I hope we shall not. I +would like a little of earth in heaven; it might be as good to us as is +a little of heaven on earth. Why not? All God's gifts are blessed, if we +bless Him for them." + +"I wonder if Father and Donald will have a good tea?" + +"I'll warrant you. Maggie knows all your father's ways and +likings--queer and otherwise. He would want a bit of broiled fish, or +the like of it. I don't think you or I would care for hot meat now." + +"What could be nicer than this cold, tender chicken?" + +"Nothing, but men are keen for something hot. They don't feel as if they +were fed, wanting the taste and smell of fresh-cooked flesh--of one kind +or another." + +"Donald promised me he would keep straight with Father, if possible." + +"Whiles it is not possible to do that--but he made me the same promise, +and he'll keep it, if his father will let him." + +"Father is not at all quarrelsome, Aunt." + +"Isn't he, dear? I'm very glad to hear it." + +"You ought to know, Aunt; you have lived with him for----" + +"Nearly eighteen years, and I am not settled in my mind yet on that +subject." + +"If people attack Father's creed, it is right for him to be angry. +Donald ought to have kept his opinions to himself." + +"That is the hardest kind of work, Marion. I know, for I've been trying +to do it ever since you were born. Yes, Marion, I have, and it is hard +work to-day." + +"What makes you try it, Aunt?" + +"The same reason as stirs Donald up." + +"Calvinism?" + +"Just Calvinism." + +"But you are a Calvinist?" + +"Not I! No, indeed! But when I came here to take care of Donald and +yourself I promised Jessy Caird never to bring that subject to dispute. +I knew, if I did, I would have to leave you, and I thought more of you +two children than of any creed in Christendom." + +"What creed do you like, Aunt?" + +"I was christened and confirmed in the English Church and I love it with +a great love; but I'm loving Donald and you far better--_and her that's +gone_--and, if the Syrian was to be forgiven for worshiping out of his +own temple for his Master's sake, I think Mother Church will forgive me +for loving two motherless children more than her liturgy." + +"Did Father never ask you if you would like to go to St. Mary's and hear +your own prayers? They are very fine prayers. I have heard them, for +when I was at school Miss Lamont took us sometimes on Sunday afternoons +to the English Church." + +"You are right, but I would not name Miss Lamont's freedom before your +father. I never talk on this subject to him; if I did, we would be +passing disagreeable words in ten minutes. For your sakes, I go +cheerfully to the Calvinistic kirk every Sabbath, and nobody but your +father and myself has known that my soul was Armenian, and hated a +Calvinist even in its most charitable hours." + +"What is an Armenian?" + +"St. Paul was an Armenian, and St. Augustine, and Luther, and John +Wesley, and all the millions that follow their teaching. I am not +ashamed of my faith. I am going to heaven in the best of good company. +But what for are we talking this happy hour of Calvinism? We ought to +let weary dogs lie, and there are few wearier ones than Calvinism." + +"I like to talk of it, Aunt. I want to know all about it." + +"Then talk to the Minister. Here are mountains and trees and flowers of +every kind. Here are birds singing as if they never would grow old, and +winds streaming out of the hills cool as living waters, and wafting into +us scents that tell the soul they come from heaven. Oh, my dear Marion, +let us enjoy God's good gifts and be thankful." + +"Are you going to unpack the trunks to-night, Aunt?" + +"No. Aileen and Kitty would have a conscience ache if we did anything +not necessary so near the Sabbath Day. We must respect their feelings. +Aileen is very strict in her religion. I am tired, and am going to lie +down for an hour, and you can wander about and please yourself. Go into +the garden. I wouldn't wonder if you had a few pleasant surprises." + +So Marion went into the garden, leaving the old house until she had a +whole day to give it. She went among the rose trellises first. The roses +were just budding--gold and pink and white. What a wonder of roses there +would be in a week or two! The pansy beds were another marvel. Such +pansies she had never before seen, for they represented all that the +highest culture could do for size and coloring. Sweet old-fashioned +flowers and flowering shrubs like lad's love were everywhere, and a +little green carpet of camomile was spread in the center of the place +for the fairies. Not far from it was a great bed of lavender and thyme, +a special gift to the honeybees, who lived in the pretty antique straw +skeps near it. Heavily laden with honey, hundreds of bees were flying +slowly home to them, and the misty air was full of an odor from the +hives that stirred something at the very roots of her being. She stood +lost in thought before the skeps and the returning bees, and as she drew +great breaths of the scented air she whispered to herself, "Where and +when have I seen this very picture before?" + +Until the twilight deepened and a gray mist from the sea blended with it +she sat thinking of many things. Life had been so vivid to her during +the past week. She felt as if she had never lived before, and it was not +until all was shadowy and indistinct that she remembered her aunt had +warned her to come into the house before the dew fell and the sea mist +rolled inland. + +Turning hurriedly, she was about to obey this order when she heard +footsteps on the flagged sidewalk running along the front of the house. +She stood still and listened. Perhaps it was Donald. No, the steps were +not like Donald's, they were firmer and faster, and had a military ring +in them. She was standing under a large silver-leafed birch tree, and +not visible from the sidewalk, yet, by stepping a little further into +its shadow, she thought she could satisfy her curiosity. However, she +could see nothing but a tall figure, hastening through the gathering +gloom and looking neither to the right nor to the left. But for the +footsteps, the figure passed silently and swiftly as a bird through the +gray mist. Its sudden appearance and disappearance impressed her +powerfully, and then there came again to her that singular sense of a +past familiarity. "I have stood in a garden watching that figure before. +Where was it? Who is he?" + +[Illustration: "There came again to her that singular sense of a past +familiarity"] + +She was disturbed by the recurrence of the influence, and she went with +rapid steps into the house. Mrs. Caird was coming to meet her. "Marion," +she said, "I have slept past my intentions. Where have you been? It is +too late for you to be outside. Come into the house and shut the door." + +"I was walking in the garden. You told me to do so." + +"Go now to the parlor and sit down. I will be with you directly." + +But Marion knew that her aunt's "directly" had an elastic quality. It +might be half an hour, it might be much more. So she took a book of +poems from a bookcase hanging against the wall, saying to herself as she +did so: "Miss Lamont told me to commit to memory as much good poetry as +I could, because there came hours in every life when a verse learned, +perhaps twenty years before, would have its message and come back to us. +I suppose just as the bees and the man came back to me. I don't remember +where from." + +In less than an hour Mrs. Caird came into the parlor with a glass of +milk in her hand. "Drink it, Marion," she said, "and then go to your +sleep. You have surely worn the day threadbare by this time." + +"I was learning a few lines until you came to me. I want to tell you +something. When it was nearly dark, and I was coming to the house, a man +passed here." + +"I shouldn't wonder." + +"I thought at first it might be Donald." + +"You need not look for Donald. I have told you that before." + +"He was very tall. He walked like a soldier, and passed through the mist +like a darker shadow. He gave me a queer feeling." + +"Which way did he go?" + +"Straight past the house. When his feet touched the brae I lost his +footsteps. I saw him but a moment or two. He passed so quickly. It was +like a dream. I wonder who he was?" + +"Most likely the young Lord. Your father told me he might be at Cramer +Hall. He hoped not, but thought it more than possible. It will be the +right thing for him to keep shadowy and dreamlike. From what I have +heard of the young Lord, he is not proper company for any nice girl. The +old Lord--God rest his soul--was a very saint in his religion and a +wonderful scholar. Your father thought much of him, and he was never +weary of your father's company, and he left him, also, a good testimony +of his friendship in his will." + +"Then Father should not infer ill of his son." + +"Marion, men may be perfectly fit and proper for each other's company, +and very unfit for a nice girl to talk with. The young man has been six +or seven years in a regiment, but now that he has come to the estate and +title I dare say he will resign. He has to look after his stepmother and +the land, for I judge that she is but a young, canary-headed, +thoughtless creature." + +"Who said he wasn't good company for a nice girl?" + +"The Minister himself said it, and to me he said it. So, Marion, if you +should meet him, which I'm thinking is particularly likely, you must act +according to my report. 'He isn't proper company for a good girl,' that +is what the Minister said." + +"Perhaps he is not a Calvinist," and Marion smiled, and Mrs. Caird tried +not to smile. + +"I don't want any complications," she continued, "so don't dream of him, +don't think of him, and don't have any queer feelings about him. Your +father will not have things go contrary to his plans, if he can help it, +and Lord Richard Cramer is not in his plans." + +"I know who is, Aunt, but he is not in my plans." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"About Allan Reid. Oh, I know Father's plan. Allan is making love to me +whenever he can get a chance. And, if I go down town, I'm meeting him +round every corner. I know how Donald came to get into Reid and +McBryne's office." + +"If you know so much, why were you keeping so quiet about things?" + +"You were always telling me to keep my own counsel and share secrets +with nobody." + +"I was not including myself in that order." + +"Father cannot bend either Donald's or my life to his wish." + +"It is your life-long happiness and welfare he is planning for." + +"God will order my life. That will content me. And God would not want me +to marry Allan Reid, with his long neck and weak eyes, because I could +never love him, and I suppose you ought to love the man you marry." + +"I believe it is thought necessary by some people. Allan will have lots +of money, and in good time walk to the head of the biggest shipping +business in Glasgow. He is a religious young man, always in kirk when +kirktime comes, and I hear that he is also the cleverest of men in a +matter of business. He'll be the richest shipper in Glasgow some day." + +"I shall never marry for money. Never! Never!" + +"You'll never marry for money, won't you? Let me tell you, it is a far +better way of marrying, in general, than comes of vows and kisses and +all such gentle shepherding." + +"For all that, 'I will marry my own true love.'" + +"When he comes, young lady." + +"When he comes! I think he will not be long in coming now." + +"Go away to your sleep. You're just dreaming with your eyes open. Good +night, dear." + +"Good night; and 'I will marry my own true love,'" and, with the lilt on +her lips, she went singing to her room. + +Mrs. Caird sat down, completely perplexed. "Here's a nice state of +affairs!" she mused. "I said but a few words about the young Lord, and, +out of a woman's pure contradiction, she instantly made a graven image +of him, and set him up in her mind to worship. She was ready, though she +never saw him, to defend him against her father's judgment. I could see +that plainly. What kind of a girl is this? Never a thought of love did I +give Andrew Caird until he said in so many words, 'Jessy, will you be my +wife?' Time enough then to begin the worshiping. Well, Ian is going to +have his hands and heart full with these two children, and I'll be +getting the blame of it. And, of course, I shall stand by both of them. +I kissed that promise on my dying sister's lips, and I wouldn't break it +for Lords, nor Commons, nor the General Assembly of the Kirk added to +them. I shall stand by both! There's no harm in Donald's opinions. I +hold the same myself, and, what's more, I always shall hold them. Fire +couldn't burn them out of me. As for Marion, if she wants to build her a +little romance, why should I hinder? The girl shall have her dream, if +it pleases her." Then she slowly went upstairs to her room, and the +Little House was still as a resting wheel. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +LORD RICHARD CRAMER + + "Souls see each other at a glance, as two drops of rain might + look into each other, if they had life." + + "The cause of love can never be assigned, + It is not in the face, but in the mind." + + +It was the Sabbath, and all its surroundings were steeped in that +wonderful Sabbath stillness that not even great cities are without. The +servants had put on with their kirk gowns the quiet movements they kept +for this day, and, as they noiselessly prepared the breakfast, they +talked softly to each other in monosyllables. Marion was used to this +formality, and indeed was herself involuntarily affected by it. She +stood hesitating on the doorsteps about a walk in the garden. Her feet +longed for the soft lawns and the flowery paths, but she had not escaped +the Sabbath thraldom of her house and native city. + +"It might be wrong," she mused, "perhaps I ought to go to God's house +and honor Him before all else. I must ask Aunt Jessy." + +In a few minutes she heard her aunt coming downstairs. Evidently Mrs. +Caird had forgotten that it was the Sabbath; she took the steps quickly, +with some noise, too, and her face was happy; indeed, she looked ready +to laugh. + +"This is a heavenly place!" she said cheerfully, "and here comes Kitty +with breakfast. There's no wonder you stand at the open door, Marion. +Look at that little summerhouse. It is covered with jasmine stars. If +you saw an angel resting in it, you would not be astonished." + +"I was longing to walk in the garden." + +"And why not?" + +"It is the Sabbath." + +"All days are Sabbath to the grateful heart." + +"Yes, but this is the Kirk Day, and I was wondering how we were to get +there. Aileen says it is near two miles away. I can walk two miles, but +you----" + +"I can walk as well as you can, but I'm not going to try it. I'm not +going to the Kirk at all to-day--walking or riding." + +"Not going to Kirk, Aunt!" + +"No. I have made up my mind to have one long, sweet, quiet day, and to +keep it with none present but God. As soon as I opened my eyes this +morning I heard larks singing up to the very gate of heaven. I saw one +rise from the brae just outside. I'll warrant you his nest was there. +Marion, he was worshiping before any of our Glasgow burghers were out of +their beds. I sent a prayer up with his song. God bless the bird!" + +"What will Father say?" + +"Just what he wants to say. I'll not hinder him. When you have eaten +your breakfast go into the garden and say a prayer among the flowers. +You'll be in one of God's own kirks. Open all your heart to Him." + +"And you?" + +"I'll be mostly in my room. It is long, long years since I had a Sunday +that rested me. I have made up my soul and my heart to have one this +day." + +"And Aileen and Kitty?" + +"They can walk to the Kirk. It will do them good. A mile or two is +nothing." + +"I heard Aileen say there was a Victoria and a light wagon in the +carriage house, and she supposed the wagon would be for the servants." + +"It may be so and it may not. I heard nothing about vehicles, and I am +not going to discuss them in any kind or manner. The girls can walk to +Kirk if they want to go; if not, they can bide in their place here. And +I'll tell them that plainly, as soon as I have finished my breakfast." + +It is likely Mrs. Caird kept her word; for Sunday's dinner, always +prepared on Saturday, was laid on the table immediately after breakfast +and then the girls disappeared, and were not seen until it was time to +prepare supper. They looked dissatisfied and disappointed, and Aileen +admitted they were so. + +"Cramer Kirk is a poor little place," she said, "and the Minister no +better than the Kirk. Master always makes a great gulf between the good +and the wicked, and his sermons hae some pith in them--the good get +encouragement, and the wicked are plainly told what kind o' a future +they are earning for themselves. But, with this man, it was just 'Love +God! Love God!' as if there was any use in loving God if you didna serve +Him. It was a poor sermon, Ma'am. Master would not like such doctrine, +and I came hungry away from it. So did Kitty. Kitty was saying you were +not in the Kirk. Were you sick, Ma'am?" + +"Oh, no, Aileen! I was just loving God at home." + +Aileen was amazed at the avowal. She looked at her mistress with +wondering eyes, and, though she did not venture to blame, there was +distinct disapproval in her attitude. + +Mrs. Caird had spent the day in her room and in the summerhouse in the +garden, and this day the wonderful garden paid for its making; for in +the evening, as she was walking there with Marion she pointed to an +inscription above the entrance to the jasmine-shaded bower, and said, +"Read it to me, Marion." And Marion read slowly, as if she was tasting +the sweet flavor of the words: + + "_Christ hath took in this piece of ground, + And made a garden there, for those + Who want herbs for their wounds._" + +The two women looked at each other. Their eyes were shining, but they +did not speak. There was no need. That day Jessy Caird had found herbs +in the sweet shadowy place for all her unsatisfied longings, her fears +and anxieties, and received full payment for her long, unselfish love +and service. + +The next afternoon the Minister joined his daughter and sister-in-law. +He was very cheerful and happy as he sat drinking a cup of tea. His +daughter was at his side, and Mrs. Caird's presence added that sense of +oversight and of "all things in order" which was so essential to his +satisfaction. However, Mrs. Caird had a way of asking questions which he +would rather not answer, and he felt this touch of earth when she said: + +"How is Donald? And how is he faring altogether, Ian?" + +The question was unanswered for a moment or two, then he said with +distinct anger, "I did not see Donald. The Minister's pew was empty +yesterday." + +"Did you ask Maggie where he was?" + +"Why should I do that? Donald ought to have told me where he was going +on the Sabbath. It will be a black day when I have to go to servants for +information about my son." + +"Poor Donald! he cannot do right whatever he does. I dare say he only +went with Matthew Ballantyne to his father's place near Rothesay. You +will be getting a letter from him in the morning." + +"I would rather have seen him where he ought to have been." + +"In the _Church of the Disciples_?" + +"Even so." + +"You are all wrong. The boys would be on the water or climbing the +mountains. They were in God's holiest temple. I hope you don't even the +_Church of the Disciples_ with it!" + +"This, or that, Jessy, Donald ought to have been in the Kirk." + +"Maybe he was at Matthew's Kirk. Dr. Ward is preaching there now, and +both Matthew and Donald think a deal of him." + +"I dare say. Donald's father is always last. He would rather hear any +one preach than his father." + +"There's a reason for that. He does not see the others in their daily +life. They don't thwart his wishes and scorn his hopes and set him to +work that he hates. He sees them only in the pulpit, where they have +pulpit grace and pulpit manners." + +"I have always treated Donald with loving kindness." + +"To be sure, when Donald walked the narrow chalk line you made for him. +You had your own will. You wanted to be a minister and no one hindered +you." + +"How do you know, Jessy, that I wanted to be a minister?" + +"Because you could not be happy unless you had power, and spiritual +power was all you could lay your hands on. Donald was willing to go +either to the sea or the army. What for wouldn't you give him his +desire?" + +"I have told you his life is all the Macraes have to build upon." + +"You yourself were in the same position before Donald was born." + +"Yes, and so I chose the salvation of the ministry." + +"You had the 'call' thereto. You liked the salvation of the ministry. +Donald could not take it, so you tied him to a counting desk. It was +like harnessing a stag to a plough. But you'll take your own way, no +matter where it leads you. So I'll say no more." + +"Thank you, Jessy. If you would consider the subject closed, I----" + +"I will do no such thing. I shall speak for Donald whenever I can, in +season or out of season. There is a letter for you from Lady Cramer. It +came this morning." + +Dr. Macrae took it with a touch of respect, and read it twice over +before he spoke of its contents, though Mrs. Caird and Marion had their +part in its message. Finally, he laid it down and, handing his cup to be +refilled, he said: + +"Jessy, at six o'clock this evening, Lady Cramer will send a carriage +for me. She wishes me to stay until Wednesday afternoon, then she +intends coming to pay her call of welcome to you and Marion, and I will +return with her." + +"So she is wanting you for the most part of two days. What for? She has +her lawyers, and councillors, and her stepson." + +"The business she wants me to talk over with her is beyond lawyers and +councillors. It is of a literary and religious nature." + +"Oh! You may keep it to yourself, Ian." + +"I do not suppose you would understand it. The late Lord left some +papers on scientific and theological subjects. Lady Cramer wishes me to +prepare them for publication." + +"Lord Angus Cramer was not a very competent man, if all is true I have +heard about him. I think Marion and myself could understand anything he +could write." + +"Jessy, we all know that the mental qualities of men differ from those +of women. The inequalities of sex----" + +"Have nothing whatever to do with mental qualities. Inequalities of sex, +indeed! They do not exist! They are a fiction that no sane man can argue +about." + +"Jessy, I say----" + +"Look at your own fireside, Minister. Donald is well fitted to go to the +army, take orders, and carry them out. Marion would be giving the +orders. Donald has an average quantity of brains. Marion can double +yours, and, if given fitting education and opportunity, would preach and +write you out of all remembrance. And where would you be, I wonder, +without Jessy Caird to guide and look after all your outgoings and +incomings? Who criticizes your sermons and tells you where they are +right, and where wrong, and who gives you 'the look' when you have said +enough, and are going to pass your climax?" + +"My dear sister, you are my right hand in everything. I do nothing +without your advice. I admit that I should be a lost man physically +without you." + +"Mentally, likewise. Give me all the credit I ought to have." + +"Yes, my sermons owe a great deal to you. And you have kept me socially +right, also. I would have had many enemies, wanting your counseling." + +"That's enough. I have been your faithful friend; and a faithful friend +likes, now and then, to have the fact acknowledged. You had better go to +your room now and put on the handsomest suit in your keeping. You'll +find linen there white as snow, and pack a fresh wearing of it for +to-morrow. By the grace of God you are a handsome man and you ought to +show forth God's physical gifts, as well as His spiritual ones." + +Doubtless the compliment was balm to the little pricks and pinches of +her previous remarks; for Dr. Macrae went with cheerful, rapid steps to +his toilet, and Mrs. Caird looked after him smiling and rubbing her lips +complacently, as if she was complimenting them on their courage and +moderation. + +Tall, stately, aristocratic in appearance, Dr. Macrae stepped into the +Cramer carriage with an air and manner that elicited the utmost respect, +almost the servility, of the coachman and footman. Marion looked at her +aunt with a face glowing with pride, and Mrs. Caird answered the look. + +"You are right, Marion. In some ways there is none like him. If he +would be patient and considerate with your brother, I would stand by Ian +Macrae if the whole world was against him." + +"Suppose I should displease him--suppose he told me I must marry Allan +Reid, and I would not--would you stand by me as you stand by Donald, +Aunt Jessy?" + +"Through thick and thin to the very end of the controversy, no matter +what it was." + +"I saw Father stop and look at the book I laid down." + +"What book was it?" + +"'David Copperfield,' and Father told me not to read Dickens. He said he +was common, and would take me only into vulgar and improper company. He +told me to read Scott, if I wanted fiction." + +"Scott will take you into worse company. Romance does not make robbers +and villains good company. Dickens's common people are real and human, +and have generally some domestic virtues. Yes, indeed, some of his +common people are most uncommonly good and lovable. For myself, I cannot +be bothered with Scott's long pedigrees and descriptions. If there's a +crack in a castle wall, he has to describe how far it runs east or west. +It is the old, bad world Scott writes about, full of war and bloodshed, +cruel customs and hatreds. And his characters are not the men and women +we know, but if you go to England you will see the characters of +Dickens in the omnibuses and on the streets." + +"I would like us to have everything in beautiful order on Wednesday, +Aunt." + +"Everything is in beautiful order now and will be at any hour Lady +Cramer chooses to call, as long as I am head of this house." + +Still, on Wednesday afternoon Marion looked at the chairs and tables and +all the pretty paraphernalia of the parlor critically. There was nothing +in it she could wish different. The furniture was of rosewood +upholstered in pale blue damask. The walls were covered with a delicate +paper, and hung on them were pastels of lovely faces and green +landscapes. The latticed windows were open, and a little wind gently +moved the white lace curtains. The vases were full of flowers, and a +small crystal one held the first rose of the season. There was nothing +she could do but open the piano, and place a piece of music on its rack, +that would give a sense of life and song to the room. + +This done she looked around and, being satisfied, took a book and sat +down. The book was "David Copperfield," and she had just arrived at that +pleasant period when _David_ finds out that _Dora_ puts her hair in curl +papers, and even watches her do it, when Mrs. Caird entered the room. + +"Marion," she said, "I see the Cramer carriage coming, stand up and let +me look at you." + +Then Marion rose and she seemed to shine where she stood. From her +throat to her sandals she was clothed in white organdie. A white satin +belt was round her waist, and a necklace of polished white coral round +her neck. There were white coral combs in her abundant black hair, and +beautiful white laces at her elbows. + +"You are a bonnie lassie," said her aunt proudly, "and see you hold up +your own side. You are Ian Macrae's daughter and as good as any lady in +the land. And beware of flattering my Lady in any form or shape. It is +the worst of bad manners, as well as clean against your interests, to +flatter a benefactor. Let them say nice words to you." + +Then the carriage was at the door, and Mrs. Caird was there also, and +Marion could hear the usual formalities, and the rustle of clothing and +all the pleasant stir of arriving guests. She sat still until Lady +Cramer entered, then rose to greet her. For a moment there was a slight +hesitation, the next moment Lady Cramer cried, "You are Marion! I know +you, child! I thought you were an angel!" + +"Not yet, Lady Cramer." + +The right key had been set. Lady Cramer fell at once into a charming, +simple conversation and Dr. Macrae, who feared his daughter would be +shy and uninteresting, was amazed at the cleverness of her conversation +and the self-possession of her manner. + +When tea was served, Marion waited upon Lady Cramer. She had given her +father one look of invitation to take her place, but the Minister knew +better than to answer it. The Apostles had refused to serve tables, he +respected his office equally. Spiritually, he sat in the place of honor, +how could he serve anyone with tea and muffins? There was a maid in cap +and apron to perform that duty. The Macraes were a proud family, but it +was not temporal pride that actuated the Minister. In all cases and at +all hours he followed St. Paul's example and "magnified his office." He +had always retired from anything like service, either at home or abroad, +and it would be idle and false not to admit that he was admired and +respected for it. It was honor enough that he condescended to be +present, for in those days the Calvinistic ministry were a grave and +rather haughty religious oligarchy. But they were not to blame; for the +honor of God and their own satisfaction the people made them oligarchs. + +After tea Lady Cramer asked Marion to sing for her. "There is a song," +she said, "that I hear everywhere I go, and never too often. I dare say +you can sing it, Marion. May I call you Marion?" + +"I should like you to do so, Lady Cramer. And what is the name of the +song?" + +"I cannot tell you; it is about rowing in a boat; it is the music that +charms. My dear, it beats like a human heart." + +"I know it," answered Marion and, with a pleased acquiescence, she +played a few chords embodying a wonderful melody, and anon her voice +went with it, as if it was its very own: + + "Row, young comrades, row, young oarsmen, + Into the crypt of the night we float; + Fair, faint moonbeams wash and wander, + Wash and wander about the boat. + Not a fetter is here to bind us, + Love and memory lose their spell, + Friends of the home we have left behind us, + Prisoners of content! Farewell!" + +At the last four lines the charm was doubled by someone--not in the +room--singing them with her. It was a man's voice, a fine baritone, and +was used with taste and skill. Every line raised Marion's enthusiasm, no +one had ever heard her sing with such power and sweetness before, and +during the little outburst of delight that thanked her Lord Richard +Cramer entered the room. + +"The praise is partly mine," he cried in a joyous voice, "and I know the +musician will give me it." As he spoke he took the Minister's hand, and +Dr. Macrae rose at the young man's request, and introduced his daughter +to him. They looked, and they loved. The feeling was instantaneous and +indisputable. Richard was on the point of calling her "Marion" a dozen +times that happy hour; and "Richard" came as naturally and sweetly to +Marion's lips. They sang the song over again, and before Lady Cramer +left she had noticed the impression made upon her son, and resolved to +have the young people under her supervision. + +"I must have Marion for a week," she said to Mrs. Caird, and Lord +Richard added that he had promised to teach Miss Macrae to ride, and +that the lessons would require "a week at the very least." And Mrs. +Caird was pleased to give such a ready consent to the proposal that Dr. +Macrae could find no possible reason for refusing it. + +Then the party broke up in a happy little tumult that defied the cold +proprieties of the best society; for Lord Cramer had set the chatter and +laughter going, and to Mrs. Caird the relaxation was like a glass of +cold water to a thirsty woman. + +"I am worldly enough to like the Cramers' way," she answered, when the +Minister regretted the innocent merriment. "There was not a wrong word; +no, nor a wrong thought, Ian; and I was fairly wearying for the sound of +happy singing, and the voices of young folks chattering and laughing. +This afternoon has been a great pleasure to me. And I'm hoping there +will be plenty more like it. A man from the Hall has just brought a box. +It appears to be a heavy one." + +"It is full of books and papers." + +"What kind of books, Ian?" + +"Books that many are reading with an amazing interest, Jessy; and which +I have long thought of examining. Huxley and Darwin's works, poor Hugh +Miller's 'Investigations,' Bishop Colenso's 'Misconceptions,' +Schopenhauer and others----" + +"Ian, do not open one of them. There is your Bible. Don't you read a +word against it. In a spiritual sense, it is the sun that warms, and the +bread that feeds you." + +"The intellectual feeling of the critical school of Bible readers ought +to be familiar to me, or how can I preach against it, Jessy?" + +"You have all the sins mentioned in the Commandments to preach against. +The critical school can bear or mend its own sins." + +"Let me explain, Jessy. The late Lord Cramer during his long illness +read all these questioning, doubting books, and he wrote many +refutations of their errors, or at least he believed them to be +refutations. I have promised Lady Cramer to examine the papers, and +prepare them for publication." + +"Ian, do not do it. I entreat you to decline the whole business." + +"You are unreasonable, Jessy." + +"These men of the Critical School are intellectual giants. Are you +strong enough to wrestle with them and not be overcome?" + +"Not unless I comprehend them. Therefore, I must read what they say." + +"What matters comprehension if you have Faith?" + +"I have Faith, and I can trust my Faith. I know what I preach. My creed +is reasonable and I believe it. I am no flounderer in unknown seas." + +Nor was he. Ian Macrae was surely at this period of his life an upright +soul. All his beliefs were fixed, and he was sure that he understood God +perfectly. So he looked kindly into the pleasant, anxious face before +him, and continued: + +"I have not a doubt. I never had a doubt. I wish I was sure of +everything concerning my life as I am of my creed. In my Bible, the +blessed book from which I studied at St. Andrews, I have written these +lines of an old poet, called Crawshaw: + + "'Think not the Faith by which the just shall live + Is a dead creed, a map correct of heaven, + Far less a feeling fond and fugitive-- + It is an affirmation, and an act, + That bids eternal truth be present fact.'" + +"We do not know ourselves, Ian; however, we do know that the Christ who +carries our sins can carry our doubts. And no one is sure of what will +happen in their life. What is troubling you in particular?" + +"Donald--and Marion." + +"Marion! The dear child! She has never given you a heartache in all her +life." + +"She gave me one this afternoon." + +"Because she was happy. Ian, you are most unreasonable." + +"I am afraid of Lord Cramer. He would have made love to her this +afternoon----" + +"I will suppose you are right and then ask, what wrong there would have +been in it?" + +"More than I can explain. For seven years he was in a fast cavalry +regiment, and he kept its pace even to the embarrassing of the Cramer +estate. He had reached the limit of his father's indulgence three years +ago. His stepmother has been loaning him money ever since, and he is in +honor bound to repay her as soon as possible. That duty comes before his +marriage, unless he marries a rich woman. My daughter would be a most +unwelcome daughter to Lady Cramer, and I will not have Marion put in +such a position. Dislike spreads quickly, and from the mother to the son +might well be an easy road. There is something else also----" + +"Pray let me hear the whole list of the young man's sins." + +"He is deeply influenced by the 'isms' of the day, and, though brought +up strictly in the true church, Lady Cramer fears he never goes there; +for she cannot get him to spend a Sabbath at home." + +"All this, Ian, is hearsay and speculation. We have no right to judge +him out of the mouth of others. Speak to him yourself." + +"I cannot speak yet. But at once I wish you to speak to Marion. Tell her +to hold her heart in her own keeping. The late Lord Cramer was my +friend. He told me whom he wished his son to marry, and it would be a +kind of treachery to the dead if I sanctioned the putting of my own +daughter in her place. I would not only be humiliated in my own sight, +but in the sight of the church, and of all who know me." + +"No girl can hold her heart in her own keeping if the right man asks for +it. There was my little sister----" + +"We will not bring her name into the subject, Jessy. It is painful to +me. I saw plainly this afternoon that Marion was pleased with Lord +Cramer's attention." + +"Any girl would have been so. He is a handsome, good-natured man, full +of innocent mirth, and Marion loves, as I do, the happy side of +life--and is hungry--as I am--for its uplifting." + +"Marion has never seen the unhappy side of life. Her lines have fallen +to her in pleasant places. A short time ago Allan Reid told me he loved +her and asked my permission to win her love, if he could. I gave him it. +She could not have a more suitable husband." + +"Girls like handsome, well-made men, Ian, men like yourself. Allan Reid +is not handsome; indeed, he is very unhandsome. Marion spoke to me of +his long neck and weak eyes, and----" + +"Girls are perfectly silly on that subject. A good man, and a rich man, +is as much as a girl ought to expect." + +"Men are perfectly silly on the same subject. A good woman with a heart +full of love is as much, and more than, any man ought to expect. But, +before he thinks of these things, he is particularly anxious that she +should be beautiful, and graceful, and money in her purse makes her +still more desirable." + +"A man naturally wants a handsome mother for his children." + +"Girls are just as foolish. They want a handsome father for their +children. I think, Ian, you might as well give up all hopes of Marion's +marrying Allan Reid. She believes him to be as mean-hearted as he is +physically unhandsome. She will never accept him." + +"I shall insist on this marriage. Say all you can in young Reid's +favor." + +"Preach for your own saint, Ian. I have nothing to say in Allan Reid's +favor." + +"Then say nothing in favor of Lord Cramer." + +"What I have seen of Lord Cramer I like. Do you want me to speak ill of +him?" + +"I have told you what he has been." + +"His father's death has put him in a responsible position. That of +itself often sobers and changes young men. Ian Macrae, leave your +daughter's affairs alone. She will manage them better than you can. And +what are you going to do about Donald?" + +"Donald is doing well enough." + +"He is not. I am afraid every mail that comes will tell us that he has +taken the Queen's shilling, or gone before the mast." + +"What do you want me to do?" + +"Ask Donald what he wants, and give him his desire--whatever it is." + +"There is not a good father in Scotland that would do the like of that, +Jessy." + +"Then be a bad father and do it. I am sure you may risk the +consequences." + +"These children are a great anxiety to me. Something is wrong if they +will not listen to their father. I am very much worried, Jessy. I will +go and unpack those books and then read awhile." + +"Listen to me, Ian. You say that now you have perfect Faith. When you +have gone through those books, your Faith will be in rags and tatters." + +"I do not fear. There is no danger but in our own cowardice. We are +ourselves the rocks of our own doubt. The danger lies in fearing danger. +I made a promise to the dead. I cannot break it, Jessy. Such a promise +is a finality." + +"You made that promise by the special instigation of the devil, Ian." + +"Jessy, you never read these books. The men who wrote them were morally +good men, seekers after truth and righteousness. I believe so much of +them." + +"You are partly right. I have never read the books, but I have read +long, elaborate, wearisome reviews of them. That was enough, and more +than enough, for me." + +"Why did you read such reviews?" + +"Because I wanted to know whether Donald and Marion should be warned +against them. I think they ought to be warned." + +"You can leave that duty to me. If I think it necessary, they will +receive the proper instruction." + +"I wonder the government allows such books to be published. They will +ruin the coming generations. The Romans had not much of a religion, but +when they began to doubt it they went madly into vice and atheism and +national ruin. If men have such wicked thoughts as are in the books you +are going to read, they ought to keep them in their own hearts. If they +could not do that, I would put them in prison, and take pen and ink from +them." + +"Do be more charitable, Jessy. The Bible teaches----" + +"It teaches us to let such destructive books alone. God himself +specially warned the Israelites not even 'to make inquiry' about the +religion of the Canaanites; they did it, of course, and you know the +result as well as I do. And men these days are so set up with their long +dominion and the varieties of strange knowledge they have accepted that +they do not require any Eve to pull this apple of disobedience and doubt +of God. They manage it themselves." + +"Jessy Caird, you have no right to impute evil to either men or books +that are only known to you through some critic's opinion." Then he rose +and, standing with uplifted eyes, said with singular emotion: + + "'O God, that men would see a little clearer! + Or judge less harshly where they cannot see. + O God, that men would draw a little nearer + To one another! They'd be nearer Thee!'" + +With these words he left Jessy and went to the room where the fateful +books were waiting for him. + +And Jessy could say no more. But she threw her knitting out of her hands +and let them drop hopelessly into her lap. + +"When men stop reasoning, they quote poetry," she mused angrily. "I +never heard Ian quote a whole verse before, unless he was in the pulpit; +well, I have warned him, and now I can only hope he will feel that sense +of utter desolation in his soul that I always felt after a few sentences +of Schopenhauer or Darwin. There! I hear him opening the box. Now begin +the to-and-fro paths of Doubt and Persuasion, days full of anxious +brooding, nights full of shadowy chasms, that nothing but Faith can +bridge. But Ian has Faith--at least in his creed--and there are +spiritual influences that no one can predict or resist, for the way of +the Spirit is the way of the wind." Motionless she sat for a few +minutes, and then rose hastily, saying softly as she did so, "Wherever +is Marion? I wonder she was not seeking me ere this." + +She found Marion in her own room. She was kneeling at the open window +with her elbows on the broad stone sill, and her cheeks were almost +touching the sweet little mignonettes. A tender smile brooded over her +face, a tender light was in her eyes, she was lost in a new, ineffable +sense of something full of delight--some pleasure strangely personal +that was hers and hers alone. + +"I am lonely without you, Marion. Why did you run away from me?" + +"I thought Father was with you and, perhaps, saying something I would +not like--about our visitors." + +"What could he say that was not pleasant? I am sure they were everything +that any reasonable person could expect." + +"You know what Father told you about Lord Cramer. I have now seen him. I +would not believe any wrong of him. I shall not listen to any wrong of +him without protesting it; so I thought it best not to go into +temptation." + +"You did right." + +"He is a beautiful young man--and how exquisite are his manners! How did +he learn them?" + +"He has always lived among people of the highest distinction, and they +practice them naturally--or ought to do so." + +"To you, to his stepmother, to Father, and to me he was equally polite. +He did not treat me indifferently because I have only the shy, +half-formed manners of a school-girl. He paid you as much respect as he +paid Lady Cramer, though you are old and beneath her in social rank, nor +was he in the least subservient to Father because he is a famous +minister. He was equally attentive and courteous to all." + +"I will take leave to differ with you, Marion Macrae. I am not old. I am +in the midway of my life, young in soul, mind and body, and I am nothing +beneath Lady Cramer in rank. Keep that in your mind. And you are not a +shy, untrained school-girl; you are a young, lovely woman, with the +naturally fine manners that come from a good heart and proper education. +As for subservience to your father, I saw nothing of it from Lord +Cramer, but Lady Cramer deferred to him in everything, and I wonder she +has not turned his head round, and his heart inside out with her +humility, and homage, and her downcast eyes." + +"She is very pretty, Aunt." + +"She is fairly beautiful. She has the witching ways of those +golden-haired women, and all their flattering submissions. She can drop +her blue eyes, and then lift them with a flash that would trouble any +man's heart that had love or life left in it. And see how wisely and +warily she dresses herself--the long, black, satin gown, with its white +crape collar and cuffs, and the black and white satin ribbons so fresh +and uncreased!" + +"And the wave and curl of her lovely hair, under the small white lace +bonnet! I thought, Aunt, she----" + +"She ought not to have worn a white bonnet. It is too soon after her +husband's death to wear a bit of white lace and a few white flowers on +her head. She should have worn her widow's bonnet for two years, and it +is wanting half a year at least of that term. But, this or that, she is +a butterfly of beauty and vanity, and I would not be astonished if she +fell in love with your father. To most women he would be an +extraordinarily attractive man." + +"O Aunt Jessy, what an idea! That would be the most unlikely of things." + +"For that very reason it is likely." + +"Father never notices women except in a religious way--when they are in +trouble, or want his advice about their souls." + +"You can no more judge your father by his outside than you can judge a +cocoanut. He has a volcanic soul--ordinarily the fire is low and quiet, +but if it should become active it would be a dangerous thing to meddle +with." + +"Father may have an austere face, but he has a tender mouth; and, O +Aunt, I have seen love leap into his shadowy eyes when I have met him at +the door, or drawn my chair close to his side in the evening." + +"Your father is a good man. He has a genius for divine things--but women +are not reckoned in that class." + +"And I think Lord Cramer is a good man, though his genius may be for +military things. He had the light of battle on his face this afternoon +when he told us of that fight with the Afghans; and how sad was his +expression when he described the burying of his company's colonel after +it--the open grave in a cleft of hills dark with pines, the solemn dead +march, the noble words spoken as they left their leader forever, and +turned back to camp to the tender, homely strains of _Annie Laurie_. Oh, +I could see and hear all. I have felt ever since as if I had been +present." + +"He appears to be a fine young fellow, though we must remember that men +judge men better than women can; and it may be possible your father's +opinion of Lord Richard Cramer has at least some truth in it." + +"I do not believe it has. I think, also, that Lord Cramer is the +handsomest man I ever saw. Just compare him with Allan Reid." + +"Why are you speaking of Allan Reid?" + +"Because Father thinks I will marry the creature." + +"Will you do as your father wishes?" + +"Once, I might have done so--perhaps. Not now. My eyes have been opened. +I have seen a man like Lord Richard Cramer, and I will marry no man of a +meaner kind. How tall and straight and slender is his figure! How bold +and manly his face! His gray eyes are full of quick, undaunted spirit, +he is all nerve and fire, and I believe he could love as well as I am +sure he can fight." + +"You need not take love into the question. Richard Cramer will be +compelled to marry a rich woman. Your father says he is bound both by +honor and necessity to do so." + +Marion buried her face in the mignonette, and did not answer; and Mrs. +Caird, after a few moments' silence, said: + +"Be glad that your heart is your own, and do not give it away until it +is asked for." + +"As if I would be so foolish, Aunt! I stand by Lord Cramer because +people tell lies about him. I always stand by anyone wronged. I would +even stand by Allan Reid, if I knew he was slandered without just +cause." + +"That is very good of you. If Allan heard tell of your opinion, he would +get someone to lie him into your favor." + +"He could not, because I would believe anything bad of Allan." + +Then Mrs. Caird laughed, and Marion wondered why. She had forgotten the +exception just made in his favor. Her thoughts were not with Allan +Reid. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DONALD PLEASES HIS FATHER + + "The songs our souls rejoiced to hear + When harps were in the hall; + And each proud note made lance and spear + Thrill on the banner'd wall. + + "God sent his singers upon earth, + With songs of sadness and of mirth. + That they might touch the hearts of men + And bring them back to heaven again." + + +The Minister had said he would go and read awhile, and Mrs. Caird had +heard him unpacking the box of books that had arrived. But at that hour +he went no further than to arrange them conveniently on a table at his +side. He was too utterly amazed at Mrs. Caird's admitting that she had +read criticisms and reviews of books she considered objectionable for +himself. He remembered then, what he had only casually observed during +all the years she had dwelt with him, that Jessy Caird was never without +a book in her work-basket. But he had noticed on all of them the cover +and the mark of the public library, and had felt certain they were +novels. And, as the children were at schools and she much alone, he had +been considerate in the matter and not asked any questions. How could he +suspect that such objectionable literature was lying openly among her +knitting and mending? + +As he made this reflection, his eyes sought the volumes lying on the +table, and he noticed that his Bible was close to them. Its familiar +aspect brought a warm, comfortable sense to his heart. It was surely the +Word of His Father in heaven. He leaned forward and laid his head +affectionately upon it. What a Friend it had been to him! What a +Counselor! In every way he had such a tremendous prepossession in its +truth and blessing that he could smile defiantly at any man, or any +man's book, being able to make him doubt a tittle of its law or its +promises. + +"The heavens and the earth may pass away," he said, "but not one word of +God shall perish!" And, though he spoke softly, as to his own heart, the +affirmation was hot with the love and fervor that thrilled the words +through and through. In a few moments he rose, lifted the Book with +tender homage, and laid it on a small table holding nothing but one +white moss rose in a slender crystal vase. He did it without intention, +actuated by a sudden spiritual reverence for holy things. + +But as soon as the transfer was accomplished he began to reason about +it. "Why did I remove the Bible?" he asked himself. He was not sure why, +but he _was_ sure that the impulse to do so had been a good and proper +one. + +"There is no book that looks like it in all the world," he thought. "It +belongs to the Sanctuary. It is the Sanctuary in itself. How could I +leave it among books that doubt and perhaps revile it?" Then his glance +fell upon the books to which he had attributed a crime so likely and so +heinous, and he continued his reflections. + +"How commonplace and similar they look! They might be text-books, or +novels, or even poetry. But God has set his mark upon the Bible. We +cannot mistake it. Printed in any size or shape, bound in any color or +any material, we know the moment our eyes fall upon it that it is the +Word of God." + +However, it is easy for the mind to find a ready road from spiritual to +personal things, and it was not long before Lord Cramer had possession +of the Minister's meditations. There appears to be no relevancy between +the Bible and Lord Cramer, but Thought has swift and secret passages, +and perhaps the way had been through the discredited books; for he was +thinking of the young nobleman with much the same feelings as he had +given the doubtful and objectionable volumes. He had felt them to be +unworthy to lie on the same table with the Bible. He was equally certain +that Lord Richard Cramer was unworthy to lift his eyes to Marion Macrae, +and quite as positive that he intended to do so. + +"Marion must marry Allan Reid," he decided. "It is for her happiness +every way. What profit is there in a title, if its holder is too poor to +honor it? Young Reid is rich, and will be rich enough to buy a title if +he wants one. Moreover, Lord Richard is not like his father in a +religious sense. Lord Angus Cramer--my friend--was present at divine +service as long as he was able to be so. Lord Richard does not observe +the Sabbath. His stepmother is troubled at his attitude toward the +Church. Such a man is not fit to be _my_ son-in-law--a man who does not +keep the Sabbath! The idea is an impossible one! Allan Reid fills his +place every Sabbath in the Church of the Disciples. To be honorable, and +rich, and to keep the Sabbath! These are the three cardinal points of a +respectable and religious life, and Marion must be made to accept them." +Yet he felt quite sure that, at that very moment, Lord Richard Cramer +was thinking of his daughter, and almost equally sure that Marion was +thinking of Richard Cramer. + +In a measure Macrae was correct. Lord Cramer was thinking of Marion, but +he was telling himself it was only in a philosophical way. Sitting +smoking on the lawn in the late twilight, he was curiously asking his +heart the question so many ask, "Why is it that, out of the thousands of +persons we meet, only one can rouse in us the tremendous passion of a +first true love?" Yet, in whatever manner Richard Cramer tried to reason +with himself, he was quite aware that something had happened that +afternoon that could never be satisfied by any reasoning. + +He would not believe it was love. Yet he had an extraordinary elation, +his heart beat rapidly, and he was in a fever of longing and wonderment +about the girl he had just met. He thought he knew all about women, but +Marion was quite different, and she had called into life something +deeper down than he had ever felt before. He was dreamy and yet +restless, he was strangely happy, and yet strangely unhappy. Ah, though +he would not admit it, the poignant thirst and exquisite hunger of a +great love were beginning to trouble him. + +He knew, however, that he could not run blindly into such a life-long +affair as wooing the Minister's daughter. It might prove to be the +dislocation of all his plans and prospects. Debt weighed heavily on him, +especially his debt to his stepmother. So long as he owed her a shilling +he was not his own master. He had been a gallant cavalry officer, but +not averse to relinquish the limitations of that position for the title +and estate that had fallen to him. Yet he could not keep up the state +necessary unless he married a rich woman. He had promised his father to +do this, and had almost resolved to try his fortune with Miss Victoria +Marvel, the heiress of an immensely wealthy banker, and a young and +lovely woman. This night, however, Miss Marvel was far beyond his +horizon; he could think of no woman in all his world but Marion Macrae. + +A week after Lady Cramer's call at the Little House, she came again and +took Marion back with her to Cramer Hall for a visit. It was a pleasure +to see the beautiful girl depart with her, for so much joyful +expectation filled her heart that it transfigured her whole person, and +she smiled so brightly, and stepped so lightly, that she seemed at that +hour just a little above mortality. And the brilliant sunshine, and the +calling of the cuckoo birds, the scent of flowers, and the breath and +murmur of the sea, appeared to be just the natural atmosphere of her +happy soul that wonderful June morning. + +Lady Cramer chatted pleasantly as they drove over the brae and by the +seashore, until they reached the large, plain, Georgian mansion called +Cramer Hall. It was only remarkable for its size, and for the great +extent and beauty of its gardens and park. As they neared the dwelling, +Marion saw Lord Cramer descending the flight of steps which led to its +principal entrance. She saw him coming to her! She felt him clasp her +hand! She heard him speaking! But all these things took place to her in +a delightful sense of semiconsciousness. She knew not what she said. +Words were so dumb and inconsequent. Truly we have all confessed at +times, "I had no words to express my feelings." Shall we ever in this +life find words for our divinest moments? Or must we wait for their +expression until Love and Death, + + "Open the portals of that other land, + Where the great voices sound, and visions dwell." + +Marion was only too glad to reach the room prepared for her, and to sit +still and draw herself together; for happiness really dissipates the +inner personality, and squanders the richest and rarest of our feelings. +It was an antique room, full of the most beautiful, world-forgotten old +furniture, one piece of richly carved oak being a cheval glass that +showed her Marion Macrae from head to feet. And, in some way, these +material household things calmed and steadied her. + +Now let those who have truly loved tell themselves how time went by in +this Eden home for Richard and Marion. True, nothing strange or +startling marked its passage, only a delightful monotony of events usual +and looked forward to. They rode, and read, and sang, they wandered +about the house and garden, talking such divinity as only lovers +understand. If there was company they kept much apart, and spoke little +to each other, but every one present knew they were _really one_. For +Love and Beauty create an atmosphere of ethereal union to which even +those ossified by a material life are not quite insensible. + +Lady Cramer indeed affected ignorance, but she was well aware of what +was going on. She had anticipated it and, because she knew her stepson's +disposition so well, had planned this very intimacy, feeling certain it +would easily dissipate the light, roving fancy of the young man. She had +so often seen him fall desperately in love, and so often seen him fall +coldly and wearily out of it, and that with women whom she considered +vastly superior to Marion in every respect. When she asked Marion to +Cramer Hall, she believed that one week's unchecked intercourse would +find Richard called to Edinburgh or London on very important business. +When he received no such call she invited Marion to extend her visit for +another week. In her opinion, it would be an incredible thing for +Richard Cramer to live his life from morning to night for two weeks with +the same girl and not utterly exhaust his fancy for her. At the end of +two weeks, finding him still enraptured with "the same girl," she +invited Marion for the third week, telling herself, as she did so: "If +he stands three weeks of this absurd entanglement, there will have to be +some strong measures taken. In the first place I shall speak to the +Minister." + +Now the Minister was much displeased at this second extension of his +daughter's visit, and he wrote to her concerning it, saying, "A third +week's visit is most unusual. I am troubled and angry at your acceptance +of it. You are imposing on Lady Cramer's kindness, and I do not think it +was at her wish this third invitation was given. I hope it was not your +doing. Come home, without fail, immediately on its termination." + +Acting on Mrs. Caird's advice, he had kept away from the Hall during +Marion's visit. "There are a lot of young people coming and going +between Cramer Hall and the neighboring gentry," she said, "and they do +not want the Minister's company unless it be to marry them. I know the +Blair girls, with their brother, Sir Thomas, were there two or three +days; and I heard the young people were walking quadrilles on the lawn, +and playing billiards in the house. Moreover, Starkie was in the kitchen +the other day, and he told Aileen that Lady Geraldine Gower--who is a +perfect horsewoman--was putting Marion and her pony through their paces; +and I am feared for such ways--he said also, that the Macauleys were +with them, and Captain Jermayne from the Edinburgh garrison." + +"Marion ought not to be in such company." + +"Marion is good enough for any company." + +"That is allowed. I was thinking of her being led into temptation." + +"Think of yourself, Ian, you are in far greater temptation than Marion +will ever have to face. Did you notice a book lying open on the small +table in your study?" + +"No." + +"I want you to notice it. I left it lying face downward purposely. If +you lift it carefully, you will see that I have marked a few lines. Read +them." + +"_Lines!_ Poetry, I suppose! Jessy, I have not time to read outside my +present work." + +"They are directly inside of your work." + +"I wish you would drive over to Cramer, and say a few words of counsel +to Marion." + +"I will not, Ian. Marion must learn how to counsel herself. She is now +in a fine school to learn that lesson, and she will come home _dux_ of +her class when it is closed." + +He was turning toward his study as Mrs. Caird spoke, and he was closing +the door as her last words reached him, "Read what I have marked, Ian." + +He said to himself that he would not read it. Jessy required to be put a +little more in her proper place. She had advised him too much lately, +and he felt that she ought to wait until asked for her opinion on +subjects belonging particularly to his profession. Her attitude was +subversive of all recognized authority. + +So he looked at the book lying on the table, but did not lift it. He was +the more determined not to read the marked "lines" because Jessy had +left the book face downward. She knew that this habit of hers seriously +annoyed him, and that she had calculated on this annoyance making him +lift the book and so in straightening the pages see the marked passage. +He told himself that this was taking an unfair advantage of one of his +most innocent peculiarities. He was resolved not to sanction it. + +But the book lying on its face vexed and even troubled him. It might be +a good book, the mental abode of some wise man, who had pressed his +finest hopes and thoughts on its white leaves. He could neither read nor +write with that fallen volume before him. For he was so used to listen +with his eyes to the absent or dead who spoke to him in a low +counterpoint that he could not avoid a feeling that he was treating a +visitor, whether friend or foe, with great unkindness. + +He rose and he sat down, then rose again, and, with a resolved attitude, +lifted his prostrate friend or enemy. One leaf was crumpled and, when +he had smoothed it carefully out, he saw a passage enclosed in strong +pencil lines. So he walked to his desk and, taking a piece of rubber, +erased with pains and caution the indexing marks, nor did he read one +word of the message the book brought him until he had set it free to +advise, or reprove, or comfort him, according to its tenor. Then the +words that met his eyes, and never again left his memory, were the +following: + + "Let lore of all Theology + Be to thy soul what it _can_ be; + But know--the Power that fashions man + Measured not out thy little span + For thee to take the meeting rod + In turn, and so approve to God + Thy science of Theometry." + +Many times over he read this message, and then he sat with the book in +his hand, lost in thought. + +But of the tenor of these thoughts he said nothing; yet Mrs. Caird was +satisfied. If he had not read the lines, she knew he would have told her +so, and, having read them, they could be left without discussion. He was +in a less moody spirit all the rest of the week, and spoke to her +several times of the hopeless discouragement involved in Comte's scheme +of "supreme religion," a mere possibility of posthumous though +unconscious "incorporation with the _Grand Être_ himself," said he. + +"Well, we are not on holy ground with Comte, Ian, and we need not take +off our shoes," answered Mrs. Caird. "This _Grand Être_, this Great +Being, is made up of little beings--yourself and I for instance." + +"And yet, Jessy, Comte does not think all men worthy even of this honor. +Vast numbers will remain in a parasitic state on this Grand +Being--really burdens on him, Comte says." + +"O Ian! What a poor unhappy God! Put your thoughts on the first ten +words in Genesis. Consider their infinite sublimity and simplicity. In +the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. This God is our +God, and He has been, and will be our dwelling place in, and for, all +generations, _Our Father_! The weakest souls are not parasites or +burdens to Him. Like a father He pities them." + +"You are relying on the Bible, Jessy. It does not enter into Comte's +scheme, and indeed what is called scientific religion discredits the +Book generally." + +"The Bible was not printed yesterday, Ian. Its assailants come and go, +come and go, but it stands unmoved forever. With what new weapons can it +be attacked? You told me yesterday that Strauss thought he had abolished +Paul, and that Ewald answered there was nothing new in Strauss. As far +as I can see, the giants of unbelief slay each other, while the Bible +goes on to blend itself with the thought and speech of every land under +the sun." + +Such conversations became frequent between the Minister and his sister. +He appeared to provoke and enjoy them. And he looked with a kind +curiosity at this woman who had sat nearly twenty years on his hearth, +nursing his children, ordering his household, sewing, knitting, telling +fairy tales, and yet pondering in her heart the highest questions of +time and eternity. The facts violated all his conceptions of women, and +one day, after a very vivid illustration of this kind, he said softly to +himself, yet with intense conviction: + +"Women are inscrutable creatures! I doubt if I know anything about +them." And perhaps these very words were "the call" for the wider and +sadder knowledge that awaited him. + +On Saturday he prepared to go to Glasgow to fulfil his usual duty in the +Church of the Disciples; but his study of unbelief had got a stronger +hold on his mind than he recognized. For the first time in all his +ministry he felt a slight reluctance for spiritual work. But Mrs. Caird +did not encourage this feeling, she was too anxious about Donald to miss +his father's report of him, though she always discounted the same. But +she reminded him for his comfort that when he returned from Glasgow on +Monday he would find Marion at home to welcome him. + +"I expect that," he answered promptly. "If I am disappointed I shall go +to Cramer Hall for her." + +However, very early on Monday morning Mrs. Caird saw Marion and Lord +Cramer from afar, riding very slowly over the brae and, apparently, +engaged in a conversation that admitted of none of the little +irregularities of light or fugitive intercourse. Their attitude as they +came nearer was distinctly, though unconsciously, that of lovers; and +when Mrs. Caird met them she saw with delight the sunshine on their +faces, mingling with a glory and radiance far sunnier from within; and +heard the pride and tenderness in Lord Cramer's voice as he said, "Good +morning, Mrs. Caird, I have brought Marion safely back to you." + +"You have done well," she answered. "The Minister was wearying for her." + +"How soon will he return from Glasgow? I wish to speak with him." + +"His times are not set times; he comes this hour, and that hour. He +deviates a good deal and, as for speech with him, you had better choose +any day but Monday." + +"Why not Monday, Mrs. Caird?" + +"Because a Minister's stock of loving kindness is apt to be low on +Monday, and he is tired and not disposed to frivol, or talk of unsacred +things." + +"But I want to talk to him of the most sacred of all mortal things. I am +sure Dr. Macrae will be reasonable on any day of the week." + +"There is a likelihood, but I have lived long enough in this astonishing +world to observe that the head and the heart do not run over at the same +time; and men keep their reasonable judgment the while. There's luck in +leisure, Lord Cramer. Take my advice and leisure awhile." + +Then Lord Cramer led Marion to the little summer house, and Mrs. Caird +left them to give some orders concerning lunch, but when it was ready +she saw Cramer riding away from the gate, and Marion, still in her +habit, standing there watching him. Hearing her aunt's footsteps she +turned, went to her side and, kissing her, said, "Dear Aunt, I am glad +to be with you again." + +"Then we are both glad, and your father will be glad also. Run upstairs +and take off your hat and that width of trailing broadcloth. Then come +and get a good lunch." + +In a few minutes Marion appeared at the table in the simplest of her +home dresses and, with a sigh of pleasure, said again, "Oh, but I am +glad to be with you, Aunt!" + +"Yet you had a happy time at Cramer Hall?" + +"Richard was there. That was enough." + +"And many other pleasant people?" + +"Yes." + +"And Lady Cramer?" + +"I do not think she had a nice time. She was weary of company, and it +was an effort for her to be quite polite during the last week." + +"You ought, then, to have come home." + +"I had no excuse for doing so." + +"And you had an excuse for staying, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"Lord Cramer?" + +"He begged me to stay. And, as I am going to marry him, I did what he +desired, of course." + +"Of course. And, of course, you will do what your father desires?" + +"If Father is reasonable." + +"The Fifth Command says you are to obey your father, and it does not +make any exceptions as to whether he is reasonable or unreasonable." + +"I intend to marry Richard, and no other man in all the wide world." + +"You do not require to be so pointed about it. There is no one here +wishes to prevent you." + +"No one can prevent me, Aunt. I love Richard and he loves me. We fell in +love with each other the moment we met." + +"That is the right way. I like men that go over head and ears at first +sight. Most take little careful steps, hesitating, fearing, one at a +time. Cowardly lovers! No woman wants such. She just looks scornfully at +them, and then turns her eyes toward something pleasanter." + +All afternoon they talked on this and kindred subjects, and the time +went so rapidly that the clock struck five before Mrs. Caird reflected +that the Minister was two or three hours behind his usual time. What was +keeping him? What was wrong? Then she began to worry about Donald; for, +if anything usual becomes unusual, our first thought is not--what is +right? or what is happy or profitable? but, always, what is wrong? And +Mrs. Caird's anxieties drifted to the youth she loved so dearly. + +"I wonder! I wonder whatever is wrong, Marion? Your father is always +home by three, or at most four o'clock. I am feared something is wrong +with Donald." And, in spite of Marion's optimistic persuasions, she was +constantly asking her heart this woeful question. From the door to the +gate she went with tiresome frequency, but it was after eight o'clock +ere she saw two men walking leisurely toward the house. The twilight was +over the earth, and nothing was very clear, but she knew them. Hurrying +into the house she called to Marion in a voice of great pleasure and +excitement: + +"Your father is coming! And Donald is with him! And what can that mean?" + +"Something good, Aunt." + +But Mrs. Caird did not hear her. She was ordering this and that luxury, +which she knew would be welcome to the belated travelers, and she had +the natural wisdom and good-nature which never once asked, "What kept +you so late?" She was satisfied with their presence, and with the fact +that both were happy, and in the most affectionate mood with each other. +She placed Donald's chair beside her own and, when he touched her hand, +or smiled in her face, or whispered, "Dear, dear Aunt!" she had a full +payment for all her anxious hours about him. + +It was not until Marion and Donald had gone to their rooms that the +Minister felt inclined to explain his tardy return from the city. "I was +afraid you would be anxious, Jessy," he said; and she answered, "Not +about you, Ian. I knew you were all right, but I was feared about +Donald. I thought something was wrong with him, and I could not fix on +any particular danger. I thought of the trains and the sea, but someway +they both assured my mind they were innocent of doing him any harm. The +trouble was an unknown one. What was it, Ian?" + +"Not much, Jessy. Donald has not been behaving himself after the ways +and manners approved of by the Reids." + +"I never yet heard any word of the Reids being set for our example. What +way was Donald breaking their laws?" + +"It seems, Jessy, that last Wednesday night there was some kind of civic +anniversary--the Provost's birthday, or the birthday of some great man +or other. I have totally forgotten the name or event. And serenading +came into the thoughts of Donald and four others, and they lifted their +violins and went together to the Provost's house. As it happened, he was +eating a late supper after his speech in the City Hall, and the lads +played and sang the songs in every Scotsman's heart. And there were +three or four of his cronies with the Provost and, when the lads had +sang twice over, + + 'Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,' + +they brought in the singers and made them sit and drink a glass of toddy +at their table, and the Provost thanked them heartily and gave them a +five-pound note to share between them." + +"That was fine! The Provost is a gentleman. And he knew how to win the +hearts of the Scotch laddies growing up to be good Scotchmen. Who were +the five lads, Ian?" + +"Donald was the leader, and there were with him Matthew Ballantyne, +David Kerr, John Montrose, and Allan Reid, all of them members of my +Wednesday night Bible class." + +"Then I cannot believe they did anything much out of the way, unless the +Reids' way is narrower than the Bible way." + +"After they left the Provost's, Donald suddenly bethought himself that +it was also his Uncle Hector's birthday, and they all went to his big +house in Blytheswood Square. There was a light in his parlor; for, you +know, he always reads until the new day is born, and this night he was +reading 'Nicholas Nickleby,' and laughing with himself over that insane +_Mark Tapley's_ pretenses to be jolly. Suddenly the violins asked +sweetly and passionately, 'Wha Wadna Fecht for Charlie'? The old man +took no notice. Then they all together began to merrily tell him, + + ''Twas up the craggy mountain, + And down the wooded glen, + They durst na go a-milking, + For Charlie and his men.' + +And by the time they had finished this delightful complaint, and Donald +had lifted his voice to assert that, + + 'Geordie sits in Charlie's chair,' + +and exhorted all true Hieland men, + + 'Keep up your hearts, for Charlie's fight, + Come what will, you've done what's right,' + +a crowd had gathered. For, you know, Jessy, how Donald can sing men out +of themselves, and the crowd began to sing with him, so that this +passionate little rant filled the square. Windows were lifted, and doors +flung open, and men and women at them joined heartily in the song." + +"And wherever were the constables?" + +"They were singing with the crowd, and no necessity for them to +interfere. It was a perfectly orderly crowd, singing their national +songs, and when they had finished + + 'Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,' + +and fervently assured each other they, + + 'For Scotland's King and law, + Freedom's sword would strongly draw, + Free men stand, and free men fa',' + +my Uncle Hector threw wide his door, and bid the lads into his parlor. + +"He is a grand old pagan--I mean saint." + +"Say what you mean, Jessy. Donald says he looked proudly at him, and he +thought for a moment he was going to kiss him, but instead of that +ceremony, which might have been a little abashing and confusing to the +lad, his uncle led him to the hearth and, pointing to two swords crossed +over the chimneypiece, he said: + +"'Look well at them, Hieland laddies! They were in the hands of +Alexander and Fergus Macrae when they fought to the death for King James +and Prince Charlie. God rest their souls!'" + +At these words the Minister became silent, words appeared to choke him, +and his eyes held a glimpse of the old dead world of his fathers. Jessy, +also, was speechless, but their silence was fitter than any words could +be. + +In a short time the Minister steadied himself and proceeded: "The four +young men with Donald doffed their bonnets, and looked silently at the +weapons that had come home red from Culloden's bloody field, and were +still holding the red rust of carnage; but Donald stretched up his hand +and touched them reverently, and then kissed his hand, and he told me +his tears wet the kiss, and that he was proud of them--and really, +Jessy, my own eyes were not dry--and a wave of--love came over me--and +I--before I knew it--had clasped Donald's hand and I think--yes, I am +sure, I kissed him! I wonder at myself! Whatever made me do it?" + +"The love of God, Ian, which is the love of all good and gracious +things. The love of God, which is the love of your son, and the love of +your country, and the love of all the noble feelings for which men dare +to die, and go and tell _Him_ so. And what next, Ian? What next?" + +"Uncle Hector called his valet, and bid him 'Bring in the punch bowl,' +but Donald said they had drank from the Provost's bowl all that was good +for them. The old man then asked them to play him a reel, and off went +'The Reel of Tullochgorum.' One of the boys from the orchestra played, +and the other four danced it with wonderful spirit and, though my uncle +did not try the springing step, he snapped the time with his fingers and +beat it with his feet and was in a kind of transfiguration. After the +dance they sang 'Auld Lang Syne' together, and then the old man was +weary with his emotion and he said: + +"'Good boys! Good night! You have given my old age one splendid hour of +its youth back again! My soul and my heart thank you, and here is a +ten-pound note to ware on yourselves and good Scotch music'; and so with +a 'God bless you all!' he bid them good-bye!" + +"It was a splendid hour and he did well to ware ten pounds on it." + +"Elder Reid did not think so and, after the Sabbath service, he asked me +to give him half-an-hour's conversation at his office in the morning. I +thought it was concerning Allan and Marion, but Donald, on Sabbath +night, told me about the serenade, and so I went to Reid's office in the +morning quite prepared for the subject of offense." + +"Did Elder Reid say anything about your uncle?" + +"He said only think of that old pagan, Hector Macrae, giving the ranting +boys ten pounds of good money!" + +"'_Major Macrae_,' I corrected. 'He won his title on memorable +battlefields, Elder, and he has every right to it.' And, I added, 'He is +far from being a pagan. I wish we all loved God as sincerely as he +does.' Then Reid cooled a little, and answered, 'You know, Minister, it +would have been almost a miracle if he had given ten pounds to our +Foreign Mission Fund. I asked him myself one day, and he pretended to be +deaf, and would say nothing but 'Eh? What? I don't hear you! I'm vera +busy!' and so to his bills and papers without even a 'Seat yourself, +Elder,' and not a penny for the Foreign Mission Fund.'" + +Jessy laughed, a queer, indeterminate little laugh, and the Minister +looked at her doubtfully, and then continued, "I reminded him that the +Major gave with both hands to our Home Missions, and that men gave as +their hearts moved them; also, that Christ considered Home Missions had +the prior claim, 'First at Jerusalem,' and so also first in Glasgow, and +then in India. 'We are getting off our subject,' I said to him and he +answered crossly, 'An altogether silly subject, kissing old swords, +dancing old reels, snapping fingers and the like of such old world +nonsense. I think Major Macrae forgot his duty, he should have +admonished the young men, and not encouraged them in their +foolishness.'" + +"What did you say to that, Ian?" asked Mrs. Caird. + +"I reminded him that, in Leviticus, nineteenth chapter and fourteenth +verse, it is written, 'Thou shalt not curse the deaf'; and I added, 'The +absent are also the deaf, they cannot speak for themselves. I need say +no more to you, Elder.' And he begged pardon, and admitted he might be +judging Major Macrae wrong, for it was true a great many people thought +him a perfect saint; and I said, 'You know, Elder, that a country is in +a poor way when its religious life does not blossom in saints.'" + +"Was Donald in the office when you went there?" + +"Yes, I saw him counting up a line of figures as I passed his desk, and +I felt sorry for the boy." + +"I am glad of that, Ian. It was the best sign of grace you have had for +a long time." + +"Do not say such a thing as that, Jessy. I love my son with my whole +heart. My life for his, if it were necessary." + +"Forgive me, Ian! I believe you. What was the Elder wanting to talk to +you about?" + +"He asked, first, if I had spoken plainly to Marion concerning his +son's offer. I told him I had no opportunity to do so, as she had been +visiting Lady Cramer for the past three weeks. Then he continued to urge +Allan's claims until I grew weary of the talk, and I finally said----" + +"That Marion must not be forced to marry anyone, surely you said that +much, Ian?" + +"Not quite that, Jessy. I promised to stand by Allan and to urge Marion +to favor him, but I added, 'There is a certain right, Elder, which draws +a girl to the _one man_ in the world for her. It is not much believed +in, but perhaps it is the only Divine Right in this world.' He seemed +puzzled at my remark, and I did not explain it. Then he was huffy, and +said he would make free to call my 'Divine Right' Richard Cramer, a poor +lord, with all his income mortgaged, and no morality to balance his +poverty." + +"You could have cleared yourself on that score. Why did you not tell him +you were as much against Lord Cramer as he could be?" + +"I was angry at the purse-proud creature, and I would say neither good +nor ill of Lord Cramer. I let him see, and feel, I thought his words and +temper very unbecoming in the Senior Elder of the Church of the +Disciples, and so left him feeling very uncomfortable." + +Then Jessy looked admiringly at her brother-in-law. She knew well how +"uncomfortable" he could make people under his Scriptural reproofs. + +"How was it Donald got home with you?" she asked. "Was the little favor +a propitiation for the Elder's unguarded temper? Did the Elder know he +was coming?" + +"As I left him, I said, 'I will tell Donald to meet me at Stewart's for +lunch, and I will give him suitable counsel, Elder'; and the man was on +his highest horse at once, and answered, 'I hope you will, sir. For your +sake, I should hate to send Donald off, but I must do so if he leads my +son into any more ridiculous tom-fooleries. Allan has a tender +conscience, and he felt he had done wrong, so he came straight to me and +made his confession. I hope Donald will be equally frank with you.'" + +"So Donald lunched with you at Stewart's? I am proud of that occurrence, +Ian." + +"I was proud likewise. There were over a dozen ministers present, and +they all looked up and looked pleased when we entered the room together. +Every one had a word of praise and hope for Donald, and nearly all said, +'You will be for St. Andrews, Donald, no doubt.' I am afraid I had more +personal pride in the lad's beauty, fine carriage, and fine manner than +I ought to have had, but----" + +"Not any too much. What advice did you give him?" + +"None of any kind. I do not think Donald did anything wrong. If Elder +Reid has fears for his son, let him look after him. I certainly told +Donald that the Elder would send him off if he tempted his son Allan +again; and perhaps I let Donald see and feel that I should not be +grieved at all if he relieved Mr. Reid's anxiety about his son's +morals." + +"Did Donald understand you?" + +"He said, 'Thank you, Father!' And then I remarked you were wearying to +see him, and that I would wait in Bath Street until three o'clock if he +wished to go to Cramer with me." + +"But did you not come by that train?" + +"No. I saw that Donald could not forego the pleasure of 'sending himself +off' and this he could not do until Reid returned to his office after +the lunch hour." + +"I hope he kept in mind the fact that Mr. Reid is your chief Elder, and +used few and civil words as became his youth and his position." + +"He behaved like a gentleman. He apologized for asking his son to join +the serenading party, and begged leave to resign his stool in the office +lest he might offend again. And the Elder was much annoyed, and replied +that he hoped he would remain; for, Jessy, I am sure he was in his heart +very proud of Allan being invited into the Provost's parlor to eat and +drink with the notables there." + +"Certainly he was, and he will talk of the lad's capers as long as he +lives, and in a little while both Allan and his father will have come to +believe that the whole affair was of Allan's planning and management." + +"I have no doubt of it. Donald, however, refused even his offer of a +higher salary to begin in September and, bowing respectfully, left him +alone with his disappointment and chagrin. As he was going through the +office, Allan called him, and then Donald's temper got a little beyond +his control, and he walked near to where Allan sat among the clerks, and +said, 'I have no words for a tale-bearer, Allan Reid. He is always a +contemptible fellow, and I warn you, gentlemen, that you are with a spy +and a mischief-maker.' That is the end of the circumstance, Jessy." + +"You little know whether it is the end or the beginning, Ian." + +"As far as Donald is concerned, I mean. He came to me radiantly happy +and satisfied with himself and, after we had drank a cup of tea, we came +leisurely home." + +"Very leisurely. I'll admit that. Well, we have to take ourselves as we +are and other people as we can get them, and it is not always an easy +job." + +"Indeed, Jessy, there is scarcely anything that is at the same time more +wise and more difficult." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE GREAT TEMPTATION + + "Love not, love not! Oh, warning vainly said, + In present years, as in the years gone by; + Love flings a halo round the dear one's head + Faultless, immortal--till they change or die." + + +It was a warm, sunny day in August, and the slim and graceful Adalaide, +Lady of Cramer, was waiting and watching for Dr. Macrae. She had a new +purpose in her heart, and it was evident not only in her eyes, which +were full of a soft blue fire--languid yet masterful--but also in her +dress, from which every trace of black had been eliminated. In a soft +flowing gown of white lawn and lace, with belt and bows of white satin, +she looked fresh and lovely as a flower on the day of its birth. + +"Take my book and work-basket to the Ladies' Rest, Flora," she said to +her maid, "and if there are callers, they may come to me. Tell Brodie to +attend them." + +The Ladies' Rest was a circle of wonderful turf in the very center of +which stood a gigantic oak, whose far-stretching branches kept the +circle in a dreamy, shadowy peace. Near the heart of the circle there +were seats, and a small table, and my Lady, standing in white on its +green turf, with the green and golden lights of the garden all around +her, was as fair a creature as mortal eyes could desire to see. + +When left alone her elfin prettiness became particularly noticeable, for +she was practicing her bewildering ways to her own thoughts, her manner +being at one moment arch and coquettish, and at the next pensive and +affectionate; practicing all her small facial arts with the +predeterminate aim and intention of capturing the hitherto impregnable, +insensible heart of the handsome Minister. + +He was quite unconscious of the danger into which he was walking, and +his thoughts were on the eternities, and the tremendous destinies that +are connected with them. The gravity induced by such thoughts was +becomingly dignified, and Lady Cramer thought him handsomer than even +her imagination had painted him. Certainly he was worth captivating, and +she was resolved to effect this purpose. Indeed she wondered at herself +for not having accomplished such a delightful triumph before. + +But, if she had honestly examined her dilatory movement in this +direction, she would have known that it was caused by facts brought +vividly to her notice during the past few weeks, when Cramer Hall had +been filled with company of a pleasantly mixed character--young nobles +and soldiers, and many types of beautiful and eligible young ladies. +Every one, then, had regarded her as a kind of matron, and she found all +her pretenses to be yet of the younger set quietly put aside. She was +admired and treated with the greatest respect, but no one made love to +her; and she was piqued and humbled by this neglect. + +"Because I am thirty-two," she said to herself, "because I am +thirty-two, I was treated like an old lady. The insolence of youth is +intolerable!" Then she heard steps upon the flagged walk and, turning, +saw the stately, rather somber figure of the man whose conquest she was +meditating approaching her. She met him with charming smiles, and little +fluttering attentions and, in words soft and hesitating, tried to hide, +and yet to express her great joy in his presence. "It is so long--so +long--since I saw you! I have felt desolate and, oh, so lonely!" + +"Lonely! You have had so much pleasant company." + +"But _you_ never came--not even when I wrote and asked you--did you know +how cruel you were? My company was young and thoughtless--no one cared +for me--I longed to see your face you never came--I have been very +lonely--but _now_! Oh, you cannot tell what a pleasure it is to have +someone to talk to who does not regard tennis and golf as the chief end +and duty of man," and she smiled and laid her jeweled white hand +confidingly on his. + +[Illustration: "She smiled and laid her jeweled white hand confidingly +on his"] + +He was much astonished, but also greatly touched, by her frankness and +evident joy in his presence; and, as any other man would have done, he +accepted her gracious kindness without doubt or consideration. Her +pretty face, full of sympathetic revelations, and her flattering words +went like wine to his head and heart, his eyes dilated with pleasure, +and he clasped the hand she had laid upon his own. Its soft warmth, its +slight pressure, the tender smile on her lips, the love light in her +eyes, were to his starving soul irresistible temptations. But he never +thought of these things as temptations; if he had done so, there was in +him a Will gigantic enough to have put them behind him. As a man dying +of thirst would have seized a glass of cold water, so his soul, +famishing for love, took hastily, greedily, the astonishing blessing +offered him. Scarcely could he believe in his happiness; yet fast, oh, +so fast, he forgot everything before this hour! And when he left Cramer +it was with his heart like a spring brimming over with love. + +Under the sweet strength of the stars he walked home. He felt that he +could not meet Mrs. Caird until he had communed with himself in the +silence and solitude of the night. His whole life, without his +expectation or conscious desire, had been changed. Something wonderful +had taken place. He thought he had loved before, but this startling, +unforeseen, and unmistakable passion filled him with rapture and a kind +of sacred fear. He had in no way sought it. By some Power far above him +it had been sent. Yet his beating heart, his strange joy, his firm step, +active brain, and glad outlook on life taught him that all the long +years of his ascetic rejection of love must have been a mistake. + +When he reached home he had not decided whether it would be prudent to +tell his sister-in-law of the new joy that had come into his life. His +nature was reticent, and he felt a keen personal pleasure in the secrecy +of his love. He did not dream of her suspecting or discovering it. He +found her sitting on the little porch absolutely idle. He was astonished +at the circumstance, and more so at her face and manner, which were both +sad and weary. + +"Are you sick, Jessy," he asked, "or have I stayed too long at the +Hall?" + +"You are sooner home than I expected. How are all there?" + +"No one is there at present but Lady Cramer. We had dinner together, and +I came away as soon as I could well leave. She is very lonely." + +"So am I, for that matter." + +"Marion is with you." + +"In a way, not much. Her heart is at Oban or thereabout." + +"Lady Cramer told me that Lord Cramer and Donald had gone on a tramp +together. They are walking through the western highlands. It did not +please me." + +"And why not?" + +"Because it is strengthening Donald's love of adventure and change. I +wanted him to rest quietly here until we returned to Glasgow. Then I +hoped he would be willing and glad to enter St. Andrews, and to settle +down to the life I intended for him." + +"If he had stayed here, I think he would have regarded St. Andrews with +delight. The company of hundreds of young men, the pleasant city, and +the fine golf ground would make St. Andrews--after a month of this +place--a very Elysium of satisfaction." + +"I thought this place was like the Garden of Eden to you." + +"I don't blame Eve, if it is. All right for a settled woman like me, and +yet I, myself, am missing my afternoon callers and the library. And the +two lasses are growing surly for want of company. Aileen was saying an +hour ago that, 'If there was only a constable, and a hand-organ passing +now and then,' she could bear the loneliness better." + +"As for me, I like it more and more. I am thinking of asking the Church +to get a supply for a month. I feel a little rest to be necessary." + +"I feel as if I had had enough of the country." + +"What does Marion say?" + +"She is as happy here as anywhere. All places are wearisome to those who +live for a person who is not in the place." + +"And Lady Cramer tells me that her stepson is miserable if he is not +with Donald. She says they are inseparable and very unhappy if apart." + +"Like to like, the wide world over." + +"But they are not alike." + +"You do not know your son. I do. But if you take a month's rest here, +you might get through that weary, useless reading of silly books and +sillier manuscripts." + +"I hope it is not useless reading, Jessy. Every book that discredits +scientific theology adds to the evidences of Christianity." + +Then Jessy lost control of herself, for she answered angrily, "Do you +think, Ian, that I have not read 'Evidences'? Let me tell you how I felt +after reading Paley's. I just thought it _probable_ that Christianity +_might_ be true. That was only an opinion, but let a man or woman _do_ +God's will, until He speaks within them like a living voice, and then +they will _know_ there is a God." + +"But, Jessy,----" + +"Don't interrupt me. I must tell you the truth. Upon my word, I believe +you are training yourself to the habit of doubting much and believing +little. You have dropped words lately I did not like, and I do not like +your selfishness about your children. I have always noticed, as +religious faith dies, selfishness takes the place of self-sacrifice. +There were the Dalrys! Their children were lost to everything good, +because they were forced to marry where they did not love. What have you +got to do with Marion's love? I wonder sometimes if you ever loved my +little sister! I am doubting it." + +"Jessy,----" + +"Yes, I am doubting it. You thought it no sin to urge her to leave +father and mother, and go away with yourself, though the Bible lays it +down as the _man's duty_ to leave father and mother for his wife's sake. +Marion wants to do nothing worse than you begged Agnes to do. There is a +change--a change for the worse--in you, Ian. I cannot just put my finger +on it, but I feel it. Yes, I feel it." + +"That may be so, Jessy. We all change, and no wrong done by it. We must +in some way carry about with us the aura of any book that takes +possession of our thoughts or feelings. The doubtful books I have been +reading so steadily have their own influence--perhaps not a good one." + +"A very bad one." + +"In a way, you are right, Jessy. It makes me unhappy and uncertain, and +with a strong insistence leads me from one skeptical writer to another. +I wish to destroy them all!" + +"Ian, you are not the man appointed to destroy the devil. Keep yourself +out of his power, and leave the devil and all his books to God +Almighty." + +"Many of these skeptical books show a reverent spirit, Jessy." + +"I will not believe that. As far as I can judge, they are altogether +destructive. They have no business in this room, though in the libraries +of hell they ought to be given high place and honor." + +"The libraries of hell! What an idea!" + +"A very reasonable one. There are books that have slain more souls than +any man could slay--but----" + +"O Jessy, Jessy! Doubts will come, even if you fight them on your +knees--will come to thoughtful men and women; and doubt can only be +cured by investigation." + +"As far as I can see, the doubt of all Doubters is just the same, and +the Book of Job contains as much philosophy of that kind as the world is +ever likely to come to. But I notice that, as soon as doubting gets +hold of a man, he will believe anything, so long as it is _not_ in the +Bible." + +"The 'Evidences of Christianity'----" + +"Ian, I have no patience with you. If there is anything plain and clear +in the religious teachings of the Bible, it is that religion proves +itself. Spiritual things are spiritually discerned, not intellectually. +If a man has had a good dinner, he knows it; there is no need to argue +about the matter. If a soul thirsts after righteousness and drinks of +the Waters of Life, it knows it, and is happy and satisfied; it does not +want evidences that it is so." + +"You are right, Jessy, but what is the matter with you to-night? You are +very queer--I may say 'cross.'" + +"I am neither queer nor cross. This afternoon, for a few moments, I lost +my bodily senses, and found _myself_--and I saw a black cloud coming +straight to our house--coming as if it knew just where to go--as if it +had been sent. And it entered the house, and I came to myself in a dream +and sweat of terror; and I am feared for my children, for they are heart +of my heart. And your selfish way with them both is enough to call some +tragedy, a deal worse than a marriage that does not suit you, or the +taking of his own way by a good, brave lad who is sure not to take a +wrong way, though it may not be the one you prefer." + +"Marion has no knowledge of the world, and it is my duty to stand +between her and the world." + +"Marion loves Richard Cramer, and if she is willing to thole his temper +and all the rest of his shortcomings, it is likely her appointed way +toward perfection--it seems to be God's commonest way of training women. +You do not require to bear with Cramer in any way. He will not trouble +you, for there is no doubt he thinks you as selfish and disagreeable as +you think him." + +"I dislike Lord Cramer for his immoralities." + +"God puts up with what you call his 'immoralities,' and I think you need +not be so strict to mark iniquity--if there is any. In my opinion, +Cramer is as good as the rest of men--fond of women's company, of +course, and, like Donald, daft about music and fine singing, but what +good man is not?" + +"As for Donald, I only ask him to walk in my own footsteps." + +"They are over-narrow for him." + +"Nevertheless, he shall tread in them or make his own way. I have money +to send him to St. Andrews and give him every advantage. He can go there +next month--or he can go to the ends of the earth." + +"Then he will go to the ends of the earth. But take heed to my words, +Ian Macrae, you will not escape the sorrow of it. However you may try +to comfort yourself, you will not be able to forget the loving, +handsome lad who stands at your side to-day like a vision of your own +youth." + +"I had a very happy afternoon, and you have completely spoiled it, +Jessy." + +"You can have a happy afternoon to-morrow, and every day, if you wish +it, but if you ruin your children's lives you can never, never undo that +wrong. Have some pity on yourself, if you have none on them." + +"I will not be bullied into doing what I know to be unwise, Jessy. I am +considering the whole life of my children, not a few weeks or months of +youth's illusory dreams and temptations. Donald, as a man, will have the +privilege of making a choice; as for Marion, I shall insist on her +accepting a marriage which will shelter her as far as possible from all +the ills of life." + +"Do you mean that you will make her marry that lying, sneaking, +tale-telling cub, Allan Reid?" + +"Certainly. His faults grew out of his jealousy of Donald's beauty and +cleverness. He confessed his fault to me and I forgave him. All stands +as it stood before that disagreeable evening. He said Donald was very +scornful and provoking. I can believe it." + +"I hope he was." Then she laughed, and added, with an air of +satisfaction: "Donald has a way of his own. He can be very civil, and +very unbearable. I have seen him----," and she laughed again at the +memory. + +"I am going to my room, Jessy. I have said all I have to say on these +subjects." + +"Will you have some bread and milk first?" + +"No. I had an excellent dinner. It was late also. You have made me +wretched, Jessy." + +"I am sorry, Ian. But, as it concerns the children, we are pulling at +opposite ends of the rope." + +"They are _my_ children. You will kindly remember that fact, Mrs. +Caird." He spoke with a haughty determination and left her without even +his usual perfunctory "good night." She was troubled by his somewhat +unusual show of temper, and the noble repose of the night had no note of +comfort for her. The silence of the far-receding mountains, the murmur +of the streams, the air of lonely pastoral melancholy, with a light like +dreamland lying over all, did not help her wounded feelings. The Scot +does not ask Nature for comfort in any heart sorrow; there is the Book, +and the God of his Fathers. But Jessy Caird had not yet arrived at the +point where she felt her exigencies beyond her own direction. + +In a few minutes she saw Dr. Macrae light his room, and through its open +window there came the odor of a fine cigar. "After the manner of men," +she muttered. "They don't permit a woman to smoke--if she is worried or +ill-tempered--it is not ladylike. And I'm wondering what improves its +manners so as to make it gentleman-like. Men are selfish creatures, all +of them, not one good, no, not one!" + +Then she rose and rather noisily locked the door; she hoped that Dr. +Macrae would hear her, and so come and attend to what he considered his +duty when at home. But Dr. Macrae was lying on the sofa smoking and +dreaming of Lady Cramer's beauty, and that night he did not care who +locked the door. The huge key turned, the bolts slipped into their +places, and she went upstairs, full of indignation at her +brother-in-law. She could not understand his mood; for she remembered +that in spite of the gravity of the subjects on which they had disagreed +there was an air of yawning and boredom about him. It was evident to her +that they were intruding on some subject much more interesting. + +At that hour she was trying to find out what really filled her with +forebodings. Little wondering, wandering thoughts about some change in +her brother-in-law had flitted for two weeks in and out of her +consciousness. But all his slight deviations from the natural and usual +were as nothing in comparison with the change she perceived this night. +Then, in the midst of her trifling suppositions, there was suddenly +flashed across her mind a few words she never doubted: "_He is in love +with Lady Cramer! He intends to marry her!_" + +The clue had been given and she followed it out. She thought she now saw +clearly why Macrae was so determined to marry Marion to Allan Reid. He +was going to marry into the Cramer family himself, and it would be most +disturbing and confusing if Marion did the same. It would be too much. +Though there was no legal barrier, there was a positive social one, so +vigilantly deterrent, indeed, that she was sure no such case had ever +been brought to the Minister's notice; and then she speculated a while +as to what would have been his action under the circumstances. + +As she slowly undressed she continued her relentless examination of the +supposed condition. "Why," she said to herself, "the silly jokes that +would be made about the relationships following the double marriage +would be just awful. Even his elders and deacons would hardly refrain +themselves. They would give him some sly specimens of their wit--and +serve him right, too; and I know well there are families in the Church +of the Disciples who would not feel sure in their particular consciences +whether such close marriages were quite right in the sight of God. They +will think, anyway, that the Minister ought to have been more careful +to avoid the appearance of evil, and they will be 'so sorry' and ask for +explanations, and say it is 'really so confusing.' Yes, I can see and +hear the great congregation of the Church of the Disciples all agog +about the Minister's queer marriage. As for myself, I shall tell any +unmarried man or woman who says what I don't like 'to look after their +own marriages'; and, if they are married, I will tell them to 'mind +their own business'; but this, or that, the clash and clatter will drive +a proud man like Ian to distraction. True, he is proud enough to strike +them dumb with a look. I'll never forget seeing him walk up to the +pulpit that Sabbath after he was made a D.D., and I mind well how he was +so dignified that pretty Martha Dean called him '_a procession of One_.' +The Church was down at his feet that day--and if he should marry my +Lady! I'll go into no surmises--things will be as ordered." + +Thus she followed her thoughts backward and forward until the night grew +chilly; then she began again her preparations for sleep, saying softly +to herself as she did so: "I am a wiser woman to-night than I was in the +morn. I know now why my poor little Marion is to be made to marry Allan +Reid, and, moreover, why her selfish father wants the marriage +immediately. It is to prevent the joking about his own marriage, for if +she got into the Cramer family first it would take a deal of courage to +marry his daughter's mother-in-law. My goodness! What a lot of quiet fun +and pawky jokes there would be passing round. I must talk it out with +Marion in the morning. I am going to sleep now--sleeping must go on, +whether marrying does--or not." + +In some respects Mrs. Caird's theory was wrong. It was likely that Dr. +Macrae had some nascent, unacknowledged admiration for Lady Cramer, but +never until that day had he hoped to marry her. Marriage had been so +long and so resolutely barred from his thoughts and feelings that it +took the encouragement of Lady Cramer to bring it to recognition in his +hopes and desires--so the selfishness Mrs. Caird presupposed had not +been in any way as yet conscious to him. The situation was sure to +present itself, but it had not yet done so. It was probable, also, that +it would affect him precisely as it affected Mrs. Caird, but how he +would meet or baffle it no one could say. A man in love cannot be +measured by those perfectly sane and cool; besides, love has secret keys +with which to meet difficulties. + +Mrs. Caird had determined to sleep well, but she was restless and had +disturbing dreams, for, + + "No tight-shut doors, or close-drawn curtains keep + The swarming dreams out, when we sleep." + +And the calm freshness and beauty of the morning almost irritated her. +What did Nature care that she was unhappy, that she had painful puzzles +to solve, and the very unpleasant inheritance from yesterday to dispose +of? Still she was disposed to be reasonable, if others were. But Dr. +Macrae was neither ready nor wishful to bring questions so important to +a hurried and already inharmonious discussion. At that hour the affair +between Lady Cramer and himself was more hopeful than settled, her +affection being of a tentative rather than of an actual character. She +was as yet experimenting with her own heart, and the Minister's heart +was a necessary part of the trial, while his sublime confidence in her +little coquetries amused her. + +Breakfast was usually a very pleasant meal, but this morning all were +reserved and silent. Dr. Macrae knew the value of a cool indifference, +and he took refuge in that mood. Nothing interested him, he was lost in +thought, he answered questions in monosyllables, and placed himself +beyond conciliation in any form. Even Marion's remarks passed unheeded, +though his heart failed him when she laid her small hand on his and +asked softly, + +"Are you sick, dear Father?" + +"No," he answered, "I am in trouble." + +"Can I help you, Father? What is it? Tell me, dear." + +"I have brought up children, and they have rebelled against me." His +voice was sad and low with the pathetic reproach, and he rose with the +words and went to his study. Marion, with a troubled face, turned to her +aunt. + +"What is the matter?" she asked. + +"Come with me to my room, dear, and I will tell you what he means." + +"I think I know what he means," she replied as soon as they were alone. +"He is cross because I will not marry Allan Reid." + +"Can you not manage it, Marion? He has set his heart on that marriage." + +"I would rather die. You said you would stand by me." + +"So I will." + +"Why is Father so cruel to me?" + +"Because he wants, I think, to marry Lady Cramer." + +"Would you go away from Father in that case?" + +"Would I not?" + +"I should go with you, of course." + +"That stands to reason." + +"How do you know, Aunt? I mean, about Lady Cramer?" + +"I had a sure word. I do not doubt it." + +"Did my father tell you?" + +"No. It is a new thing yet; only a mustard seed now, but it will grow +to a great tree. It might have happened yesterday." + +"Longer ago than that, Aunt, at least on Lady Cramer's side. When I was +staying at the Hall she was cross because he did not come, and she +wanted to send for him, but Richard would not let her." + +"Why then?" + +"Because he said the company they had would be an offense to the +Minister, and the Minister would be unwelcome to the other guests. I +must write and tell Richard your suspicion. It may affect his +prospects." + +"No doubt it will, but, if he could marry you at once, it might prevent +the other marriage." + +"I see not how nor why." + +Then Mrs. Caird went pitilessly over the sensation the double marriage +would make not only socially, but in the Church of the Disciples. She +put into the mouths of its elders, deacons and members the foolish jibes +and jokes they would be sure to make. The riddling and laughter and +comedy sure to flow from the situation were vividly present to her own +imagination, and she spared Marion none of the scorn and indignation +they would evoke. + +"Just think, Marion," she continued, "of your father having to thole all +this vulgar tomfoolery--he, that never sees a flash of humor, however +broad and plain it may be. Some men would just laugh, and let the jokes +go by, but not so your father. They would be words in earnest to him, +and every word would be a whip lash. He would fret and fume and worry +himself into a brain fever, or he would fall into one of his miraculous +passions with some laughing fool, and there would be tragedy and ruin to +follow." + +Marion did not speak, but she was white as the white dress she wore. +Mrs. Caird looked at her and was not quite pleased with her attitude. +She had expected tears or anger, and Marion gave way to neither, but her +silence and pallor and a certain proud erectness of her figure spoke for +her. At this hour she was startlingly like her father. She had put +herself completely in his place, and was moved just as he would have +been by her aunt's scornful picture of the Church of the Disciples in a +jocular insurrection. So she looked like him. Quick as thought and +feeling, the soul had photographed on the plastic body the very +presentment of Ian Macrae. Her erect figure, her haughty manner, her +scornful and indignant expression, and her large dark eyes, full of +reproach, but quite tearless, were exactly the symptoms which he would +have manifested if subjected to a like recital. For it is the expression +of the human face, rather than its features, which makes its identity. +The face enshrined in our hearts, which comes to us in dreams, when it +has long moldered in the grave, is not the mechanical countenance of the +loved one--it is its abstract idealization, its essence and life--it is +the spirit of the face. + +Mrs. Caird was astonished. It was a Marion she did not expect, but after +a few moments' silence she said, "You can see your father's position, +child?" + +"Yes, I can see it and feel it, too. He would be distracted with the +gossip and the disgrace of it." + +"Well, then?" + +"I must prevent it." + +"Would you marry Allan Reid?" + +"No." + +"What will you do?" + +"Stand by my father whatever befall, if he will let me." + +"And Lord Cramer?" + +"We can wait." + +"But if you married at once, the onus of such a condition as I have +pointed out would be on your father, and he would not face it for any +living woman. That stands to reason." + +"It is nineteen years since my mother died. He has given all those years +to Donald and myself. He gave us _you_ for a mother, but he never gave +us a stepmother. He was good to us in that respect, and, though we may +not have known it, he may have had many temptations to alter his life +and he denied himself a wife for our sakes. I must stand by my father. +If he wishes to marry Lady Cramer, I will only express satisfaction in +his choice." + +"But if he insists on your marrying Allan Reid first?" + +"That I will not do. His hopes and desires are sacred to me. I shall +expect him to give to mine the same regard. I am sure he will do so. Why +do you not point out to him the results you have just made so plain to +me?" + +"Not I! I shall wash my hands of the whole affair. I wonder what kind of +mortals you Macraes are! I was trying to prepare some plain road for you +and your lover, and the thought of your father steps in between you and +you make him a curtsey, and say, 'Your will be it, Father.'" + +"Aunt, for a thousand years the father and the chief in my family have +been _one_. He has had the affection and the loyalty due to both +relations. My father is still to me _the_ Macrae, and I owe him and give +him the first and best homage of my heart." + +"Goodness! Gracious! I am very sorry, Miss Macrae, I have presumed to +meddle in your affairs. I am only a poor Lowland Scot, ignorant of your +famous clansmen. I have seen some of them, of course, in the Glasgow and +Edinburgh barracks, but we called them 'kilties,' just plain kilties! +Good soldiers, I believe, but----" + +"Dear Aunt, you are making yourself angry for nothing at all. If you +think over what I have said, you will allow I am right." + +"I have something else to think over now, and I'll meddle no more with +other people's love affairs. There now--go away and let me alone--I want +no kissing and fleeching. You have cast me clean off--after nineteen +years----" and the rest of her complaint was lost in passionate sobs and +tears. + +Then Marion was on her knees, crying with her, and the upcome and +outcome was kisses and fond words and forgiveness. But do we forgive? We +agree to put aside the fault and forget it; the real thing is, we agree +to forget. + +After this common family rite Mrs. Caird washed her face and went down +to look after dinner, and as she did so she felt a little hardly toward +Marion, and her thoughts were grieving and reminiscent. "Oh, the +sleepless nights and anxious days I have spent for that dear lassie!" +she sighed; "and, now she is a woman, her lover and her father fill her +heart. I am just a nobody. Well, thank the Father of all, I gave my love +freely. I did not sell it, I gave it, and the gift is my reward. It is +more blessed to give than to receive." + +Marion, at her sewing, had thoughts not much more satisfactory. "Aunt +makes so much of things," she said to herself. "She is so romantic and +simple-minded, and she goes over the score on both sides; everything is +the very worst or the very best. I wish she would not talk so much about +Richard, and be always planning this and that for us. Oh, I ought to be +ashamed of such thoughts, and I am ashamed! Aunt Jessy has been my +mother, God bless her!" She had a few moments of repentant reflection +and resolutions, and then she continued them in a different way, saying +almost audibly: "My father! Oh, Aunt knows my father is different. His +blood flows through my heart. I am his child from head to feet. Aunt has +often told me so. She ought, then, to know I would stand by my father, +whomever he married." + +They had forgiven each other--but had they forgotten? + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MINISTER IN LOVE + + "The sun and the bees, + And the face of her love through the green, + The shades of the trees, + And the poppy heads glowing between: + His heart asked no more, + 'Twas full as the hawthorn in May, + And Life lay before, + As the hours of a long summer day." + + +For a week there was no change in the usual course and tenor of life at +the Little House. Dr. Macrae read or wrote all morning, and after his +lunch he dressed with care and rode over to the Hall, took a late dinner +with Lady Cramer, and returned home about ten o'clock. He usually took a +manuscript with him, and often spoke of reading it to Lady Cramer. +Sometimes, also, he alluded to other company who were present, most +frequently to the elderly Earl Travers, whom he described as an +ultramontane Presbyterian. "He sits in a Free Church," he would say, +with a slight tone of anger, "but his place is in one of the churches +yet subject to Cæsar, not in a Free Church, which is a Law unto itself; +its title deeds being only in the Registry above." Marion was proud of +his enthusiasm, but Mrs. Caird told herself, privately, that Earl +Travers had no doubt stimulated its character. For it was evident he +disliked Travers on grounds more personal than the government of the +Church. + +Travers had been a close friend of the late Lord Cramer, and he took his +place quietly but authoritatively at the side of his widow; indeed it +appeared to Dr. Macrae that, on the very first night he met him at the +Hall, Lady Cramer referred questions to the Earl that might have been +left to his judgment. Even then, Dr. Macrae had an incipient jealousy of +the Earl, who had just returned from a twelve months' cruise, rich in +charming anecdotes of entertaining persons and events. + +Really, Travers was much interested by the Minister and, hearing that he +was going to preach in Cramer Church on the following Sabbath, he made +an engagement at once with Lady Cramer to go with her to the service. +She was delighted with the proposal and, with an intimate look at Dr. +Macrae and a private handclasp as she passed him, vowed it would be the +greatest pleasure the Earl could offer her. "I have always longed," she +continued, "to hear one of those famous sermons that are said to thrill +the largest congregations in Glasgow." + +Certainly Dr. Macrae was flattered and much pleased. He had no fear of +falling below any standard set up for him, yet he kept closely to +himself all the previous Saturday, for he was gathering together his +personality, so largely diffused by his late happiness, and flooding the +sermon he was to deliver with streams of his own feeling and intellect. +And, oh, how good he felt this exercise to be! For some hours he rose +like a tower far above the restless sea of his passions. He put every +doubt under his feet, he made himself forget he ever had a doubt. + +The next morning was in itself sacramental, a Sabbath morning + + "so cool, so calm, so bright; + The bridal of the earth and sky," + +filled the soul with peace, and everywhere there was a sense of rest. +Even the cart horses knew it was Sunday, and were standing at the field +gates, idle and happy. In the pale sunlight the moor stretched away to +the mountains, and silent and serious little groups of people were +crossing it from every side, but all making for one point--Cramer +Church. + +Dr. Macrae had been driven there very early and, during the hour before +service, he was in the small vestry at the entrance of the church, and +was, as he desired, left quite alone. In that hour he rose to the +grandest altitude of his nature and, when the cessation of footsteps +told him the congregation was gathered, he opened the vestry door. Then +a very aged elder set wide the pulpit door, and Dr. Macrae--tall, +stately, long-gowned and white-banded--walked with a serious +deliberation unto that High Place from which he was to break the Bread +of Life to the waiting worshipers before him. There was an irresistible +power, both in him and going forth from him, that drew everyone present +to himself. His burning, vehement spirit found its way in full force to +his face, and it infected, nay, it went like a dart, to souls sleepy and +careless in Zion. + +To the Episcopalian the prayers are everything; to the Presbyterian it +is the sermon; and there was a sigh of satisfaction when Dr. Macrae read +with clear, powerful enunciation the last four verses of the sixth +chapter of Hebrews, and boldly announced that he would speak "first of +_God the Chooser_, then of _God the Slain_, then of _God the +Comforter_." + +From these great seminal truths he reasoned of righteousness and +judgment to come with a penetrative, judicial power; but he quickly +passed this stage and entered into their enforcement with an +overwhelming insistence. Something was to be _done_rather than +explained. The sermon was almost fiercely theological, but through it +all there was that wonderfully inspired look, that diviner mind, that +"little more" which declares the Superman to be in control. + +Two remarks showed something of the personal struggle that he was going +through. Speaking of the doubting spirit prevalent in the whole +religious world, he said: "You will find in the words of my text the +remedy: that, by two immutable things in which it was impossible for God +to lie, we might have a strong consolation who have fled for refuge to +lay hold upon the hope set before us." And, again, very pointedly, he +asked: "When we have done wrong, how shall we remedy the wrong? I will +tell you. We must work day and night, as men work on a railway when the +bridge is broken down. For all traffic between our souls and heaven will +be interrupted until we get this ruin--this reason for God's +withdrawal--out of the way." + +The last sentences of his sermon were given to defending the creed of +his country, and the Minister who does this clasps the heart of his +people to him. He preached an hour and the time was as ten minutes. No +one moved until he closed the Book and, with a glowing face and a joyful +voice, gave the benediction. + +He looked ten years younger than he did when entering the pulpit. He +appeared to be much taller and of a larger bulk, and his face shone and +his eyes glowed with more than mortal light. For, at that hour of +superman control, the virtue of the spiritual erected and informed the +physical. The congregation longed to speak to him and to touch his hand, +but he walked through the gazing throng with uplifted face and towering +form, silent and enwrapt with his own power and eloquence, and, going +into the little vestry to unrobe, remained there until the Earl and Lady +Cramer had departed, and only a few humble and fervent worshipers +lingered thoughtfully among the graves in the churchyard. To these he +spoke, and they looked into his gracious, handsome face, touched almost +reverently the hand he offered and to their dying day talked of him as +of a man inspired and miraculous, a true Preacher of His Word. + +At his own door Marion met him with a kiss, a thing so unusual that it +had a kind of solemnity in it. "My good, wonderful father!" she +whispered, "there is no man can preach like you!" His heart beat +pleasantly to her love and admiration, and, though Mrs. Caird only +looked at him as he took his place at the table, he was as well +satisfied as he had been with Marion's greeting. He could see that she +had been weeping. The light of prayer was on her face, and from the +whole household he heard the silent psalm of thanksgiving. + +That day he remained at home, and on Monday he did the same. He thought +he was honestly "working day and night as men work on a railway when the +bridge is broken." Something had gone wrong between God and his soul. +The Power with the multitude which had been given him he still retained, +but that wonderful faculty within us which feels after and finds the +Divinity did not respond to his call. Yet he knew well that we have our +being in God, that God's ear lies close to our lips, that it is always +listening, that we sigh into it, even as we sleep and dream. Why did not +God give him again the personal joy of His salvation? He walked hour +after hour all Monday up and down his study, examining and defending +himself; for this attitude is almost certainly our first one when we +come penitently to God. Yet Dr. Macrae knew well that only with blinding +tears and breaking heart can the sinner go to His Maker and plead: "Cast +me not away from Thy Presence, take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore +unto me the joy of Thy Salvation." + +Tuesday he was physically weary and when he opened the book he was +considering, Hugh Miller's "Red Stone," he could not read it. The words +passed before his eyes, but his mind refused to notice them, and he +threw down the volume and resigned himself to religious reverie. His +eyes were on his closed Bible, and he was recalling in a regretful mood +the power and splendor of its promises and assurances. He was "feeling +after God, if haply he might find Him," trying to call up arguments for +his existence, his personality, His loving and constant interflow into +the affairs of men. But he had lost the habit of Faith, and was +continually finding himself face to face with the incomprehensible +problems which Science may propound but can never answer: Whence come +we? Whither do we go? Why was man created? Why does he continue to +exist? What has become of the vast multitudes of the dead? What will +become of the vaster multitudes that may yet tread the earth? + +But ever when he reached the outermost rim of this useless thought, +these awful and sacred questions still called to his soul for an answer. +Indeed, he felt acutely that he had not gained from Science any +intelligible religious system; nor yet any belief which he could +profess, or which he could defend from an assailant. He could find in it +nothing that a man could have recourse to in the hour of trouble, or the +day of death; and, when Mrs. Caird came into his study about the noon +hour, he felt compelled to speak to her. With a quick, nervous motion he +laid his hand upon some books at his side and complained wearily: + +"All they say about God is so terribly inadequate, Jessy." + +"Of course it is inadequate," she answered. "When men know nothing, how +can they teach, especially about Him, + + ... 'Who, though vast and strange + When with _intellect_ we gaze, + Yet close to the heart steals in + In a thousand tender ways.'" + +"O my dear sister, I am so miserable!" + +"My dear Ian, when we withdraw ourselves from that circle within which +the Bible is a definite authority, we must be miserable." + +"Why?" + +"We have then only a negative religion, and pray what is there between +us and the next lower down negation? And I assure you it would become +easy to repeat this descending movement again and again. Indeed, there +could be no reason for making a stand at any point, until----" + +"Until?" + +"The end!" + +"Then?" + +"There might come the dread of sliding away toward the brink--and over +the brink--of the precipice." + +"Then what help is there for a man who has taken this road ignorantly +and innocently?" + +And Jessy, with the light and joy of perfect assurance on her face, +answered, "There is the breadth, the depth, the boundless length, the +inaccessible height of Christ's love, which is the love of God." + +Ian did not answer immediately and, Mrs. Caird, walking to the window, +saw the Cramer carriage at the gate. + +"Lady Cramer is coming," she said. "I will go and meet her." + +Then Ian saw Lady Cramer fluttering up the garden walk, a lovely vision +in pink muslin and white lace, carrying a dainty basket of ripe apricots +in her hand. He thought he had not been looking for her visit, but Mrs. +Caird could have told him a different story. She knew by the care +bestowed on his morning toilet that he was expecting her, but she was a +considerate woman and made an excuse to leave them alone a few minutes. + +"I have come for Marion," she said. "I am going to do a little shopping, +and she has such good taste--and I thought you would like the +apricots--I expected you yesterday--I looked for you even Sunday. You +did not come--I was unhappy at your neglect." + +He stood gravely in front of her, looking down at her pretty, pleading +face, her beautiful hair, her garments of rose and white. He did not +speak. He was trying to recall the words he had resolved to say to her, +but, when she lifted her eyes, they hastened out of his memory; and when +she had laid her hand on his and asked, "Have I grieved you, my dear +Ian? Have you forgotten that you loved me?" + +"My God, Ada!" he cried in a low, passionate voice, "My God! I love you +better than my own soul." + +"You will dine with me this evening?" + +"This evening, yes, yes, I will come." + +"If you have any scruples--if you do not wish--if----" + +"Oh, you know well, Ada, that I am dying to come to you, to taste again +the sweetness of your embrace, to know the miraculous joy of your kiss. +You know, Ada, that you hold my heart in your small, open hands." + +"Ian, you are the greatest man in Scotland," she answered. "The Earl +says you have the eloquence of Apollo and the close reasoning of Paul." + +"And you, Ada?" + +"I have wanted to be good, Ian, ever since Sunday. Help me, dear one. I +am so weak and foolish." + +Then he took her in his arms and kissed his answer on her lips; and, in +a few moments, Mrs. Caird and Marion came laughing into the room. And it +is needless to say that in the evening Dr. Macrae took dinner as usual +with Lady Cramer. The hours they were together were really what Dr. +Macrae said they were, the happiest hours in all his life. + +They were indeed so mutually happy that Lady Cramer began this night to +take herself seriously to task after them. She dismissed her maid early, +saying, "I am sleepy," but she did not go to sleep. She wrapped herself +in a down coverlet and took an easy chair by an open window. The secret +silence of the night was what she wanted. It was the fifth day of the +moon, and its crescent moved with a melancholy air in the western +heavens, while the exquisite perfume of the double velvet rose scented +the cool air far and near. This rose is forgotten now, but then its +leaves were kept among a lady's clothing, and imparted to it an ethereal +fragrance far beyond the art of the perfumer. It was Lady Cramer's first +reflection. + +"The roses are in perfection," she thought, "the leaves must be gathered +to-morrow. They give my dresses the only scent I can endure. Ian always +notices it. He says it is so delicate and delicious that too much of it +would make him faint with pleasure. _Heigho!_ I have had a few hours +that I dare not repeat. I am so susceptible--so foolish. This affair +must be stopped. I will not allow it to go further. I dare not. I should +become a Minister's wife if I did. Could I think of that? Decidedly not. +I love him, yes. I love him, but I cannot sacrifice my life to make his +life sweeter. Should I make it sweeter? I am sure I would not. Religion +is very well on a Sunday morning, nice and ladylike, and I generally +enjoy it; but every day in your life is too much. I endured eight years +with an old noble that I might get entry into his caste. I cannot throw +that privilege away for love. No, I must marry a duke--good-bye, my +handsome Ian! We have had some happy hours together--but it is now time +to part." + +She sat discussing this subject with what she called her "heart" till +long after midnight; then the still, sweet atmosphere was invaded by the +sudden impetuous trample of a ghostly wind. The moon had set, and the +sky was bending darkly over a darker world. + +"Those clouds terrify me," she whispered. "They seem to look angrily at +me. I shall have bad dreams if I do not go to bed"--and as she did so +she nervously continued her soliloquy. "I dare say this is the hour that +liberates ghosts; such a wind would open all the old doors in this old +house, and the old joys and sorrows would come out. It is not cannie. I +will sleep now, and to-morrow--I will get ready for London." + +Dr. Macrae had lingered long on the moor. He had refused the carriage, +feeling that physical motion was the imperative craving of the hour. But +he was in such a miraculous state of rapture that his walking was not +walking; he trod upon the air, the earth was buoyant under his feet. He +knew not, he asked not, whether he was in the body or out of the body. +The exquisite Adalaide loved him. She had promised to be his wife. With +a little cry of joy he recalled that ecstatic moment when she had kissed +on his lips the one little word which made all things sure. + +"This is love!" he cried joyfully, lifting his face to the heavens, "and +I have blamed and punished those who have fallen through love! O man +foolish and ignorant of the great temptation!" + +He did not sleep. He had neither the wish to sleep nor the need of it. +Never in all his life had he been so keenly alive, so stubbornly awake. +With a face of rapt expectancy he recalled the looks and words and +motions of Adalaide. She had said they would have a year's honeymoon +among the storied cities and churches of the Mediterranean, and he began +to consider what this proposal meant. Certainly it implied his +resignation from the pulpit of the Church of the Disciples. Could he +bear that? Would he like to sit and listen to other men preaching the +Word, while he sat silent? On the previous Sabbath he had shown forth +that irresistible ordination which comes through the call and Hand of +God. Could he deny this great honor and stand like a dumb dog in the +courts of the Lord? + +Was love indeed the greatest thing in the world? He was too honest a +thinker to admit this fallacy. In his own congregation he had seen love +set aside for duty, for gold, for power, and he knew young men and women +who had put love behind them in order to remain with helpless parents +and succor them. They had received from their fellow creatures no +particular praise nor indemnity, they had quietly resigned love for the +nobler virtue of duty. Women without number were constantly making this +sacrifice, and should he resign the helpfulness and honor of his +God-given office to this pretender of supreme earthly power? Positively +he refused to entertain for a moment the possibility of casting away the +work God had given him to do. + +When he came to this decision the day was sullenly breaking, and he +heard his sister-in-law's voice and the tinkle of the breakfast china. +Then came the call for coffee and he said: "It is just what I wanted, +Jessy. Are we not earlier than usual?" + +"Yes," she answered, "but I knew you were awake, and thought your coffee +would be welcome." + +"It is. Thank you, Jessy"; and the words were said so pleasantly she met +them with a smile and, as he seemed wishful to talk, she responded +readily to his desire. + +"Where is Marion?" he asked. + +"In the Land of Sleep and Dreams, wherever that is." + +"Nobody knows that, Jessy. There is so much we do not know, and never +can know, that striving for Truth is discouraging." + +"Yes, but when we cease striving for Truth we begin striving for +ourselves." + +"You reason well, Jessy. Have you studied logic?" + +"What would a woman want with the mere faculty of logic? It belongs to +lawyers and men educated in Edinburgh. I can draw an inference from +anything reasonable, but logic is beyond the straight-forwardness of +women and, also, the will of genius. When you were preaching last Sunday +your words were arrows of the Almighty, they did not fly according to +the rules of logic; if they had would they have found the hearts of the +people? I think not. When are we going back to Glasgow, Ian? I am +wearying for it all day long and, sitting alone at night, I would rather +hear the melancholy human noises of the street than the song of the +nightingale." + +"For two more Sabbaths, Jessy, there is a minister in my place. After +that we will go home." + +"What kind of a minister?" + +"A Free Church minister." + +"That stands to reason and goes without saying. I mean is he sure on +Moses and reverent with the Gospels? Is he a believer or a doubter? That +is what I mean." + +"Who can tell? If a good man doubts, he does not babble his doubts from +the pulpit." + +"What are you doing now, Ian?" + +"I am bringing dogmas to Scripture and trying to make Scripture agree +with them. People read too much now. When I was a lad, Joseph Milner's +'Church History,' and Newton on the 'Prophecies' were in every house. +They were good books, fragrant with home piety, and with their Bible +were all men and women wanted." + +"And now it is even fashionable to have a book against the Bible lying +on the parlor table. It is not a good change, Ian." + +"The change is the spirit of our era, Jessy, but God is directing it. We +can do nothing. We are only clay in the hands of the potter." + +"Even so, but the potter does not make vessels for the express purpose +of breaking them, and I am sure it is wrong to say, 'We can do nothing.' +Our influence, be it good or bad, has had a commencement, and it will +never have an end. I heard Dr. Wardlaw say that, and, also, that what is +done is done, and it will work with the working universe, openly or +secretly, forever. When Jethro, the Midianitish priest and grazier, +hired an Hebrew outlaw as his herdsman, he doubtless thought little of +the circumstance; but Moses still lives, and busies himself in the daily +business of all nations. Your work has been set you, Ian; hold fast your +faith in it, and do not dare to desert it." + +"I was thinking your thought an hour ago, Jessy. My will is to finish +the work given me to do. If I allowed my will to be overpowered by any +circumstance, I should be the sport of Fate. I should indeed be then +_Not Elect_." With these words he rose, straight and strong, full of +confidence in his own will to do right and, with an encouraging smile to +Jessy, he went to his study. + +It was a chill, dull day without sunshine, but Dr. Macrae carried his +own sunshine. The morning would get over, and Ada would be sure to send +a close carriage for him in the afternoon. Then he would bring to a +clear understanding the fact that marriage could not separate him from +his spiritual work. He was dressed and waiting long before he could +reasonably expect the carriage, but at three o'clock it had not arrived, +and he was so wretched he resolved to take the Victoria and drive over +to the Hall. As this intention was forming in his mind a servant from +Cramer brought him a letter. He opened it with anxious haste, and read +the following lines: + + DEAR, DEAR IAN--I received this morning a most astonishing and + peremptory letter from my lawyer, directing me to come to + London by the next train. It is a purely business letter, dear, + but you know we cannot neglect business, especially as our + contemplated year's travel will draw deeply on our resources. I + shall not forget you; that would be impossible! I shall be at + the railway station at four o'clock; be sure to meet me there. + It would be dreadful not to bid you good-bye. + + YOUR ADA. + +Four o'clock! It was then a quarter after three; there was barely time +to reach the station, but half-a-crown to the driver gave him five +minutes in which to see his beautiful mistress in her new winter gown of +dark blue broadcloth, trimmed with sable fur. The small blue and brown +toque above her brown, braided hair gave her quite a new look. She was +so chic, so radiant, so loving. And, in some of the occult ways known to +women, she managed in those few minutes to make him both happy and +hopeful. Then the guard held open the door of her carriage, she was in +the train, the door was shut, the cry of "All right" ran along the +moving line and, with a heart feeling empty and forlorn, he returned to +the Little House. + +"Lady Cramer has gone to London," he said to Mrs. Caird, and she looked +into her brother-in-law's face and understood. + +There was nothing now for him but reading, and he took up the books +waiting for him and tried to forget in Scientific Religion the pitiless +aching and longing of love; and he was glad, also, that the minister who +had been filling the pulpit of the Church of the Disciples during his +month's rest proposed to come to Cramer and stay part of the last week +with him. He hoped they might be able to talk over together some of the +startling religious ideas he was then reading and, perhaps, receive help +from his more advanced age and wider experience. + +Mrs. Caird doubted it as soon as she saw the man. He had a handsome +physical appearance with such drawbacks as attend a long course of +self-indulgence. His stoutness reduced his height, he had become +slightly bald, and he wore glasses; so Dr. Macrae's slim, straight +figure, his fine eyes and hair, and his good, healthy coloring, moved +the brother cleric to a moment's envy. + +"I used to be as natty and bright as you, Macrae," he said, "but age, +sir, age--the years tell on us." + +Dr. Macrae met him at the railway station with the Victoria, and he +admired the turnout very much. "That is a fine machine," he remarked; +"it must have cost you a pretty penny." + +"It is not mine," answered Dr. Macrae. "It belongs to Lady Cramer. I +have, by her kindness, the use of it this summer." + +"What an unusual kindness!" + +"Also of her dower house, with all its beautiful furnishings. Very +little you will see in it belongs to me." + +"I have never fallen on such luck. My church is large, but poor--poor. +There are a few wealthy families--but--but they do not lift themselves +above the ordinaries of collection--the plate and the printed lists." + +"Yes." + +"And, even so, I generally think scorn of their donations. I suppose you +are on a very easy footing with Lady Cramer--friendly, I mean." + +"Yes, we are good friends." + +He was in a fit of admiration with everything he saw, the antique +homeliness of the parlors, the lavender on the window sills, the +Worcester china on the table. He looked critically at the latter, and +said with a knowing air, "It belongs to the best period, having the +square mark on it." The light shone on olives and grapes, on cut glass +and silver, and specially on a claret jug of Worcester, with its exotic +birds, its lasting gold, and its scale-blue ground like sapphire. He +had the artistic temperament, and these beautiful things appealed to him +in a way that astonished Dr. Macrae, whose temperament was of spiritual +mold, and had not been destitute of even ascetic tendencies in his +youth. + +He had, therefore, little sympathy with his guest's enthusiasms; indeed, +it rather pleased him to strip himself bare of all the beauty around +him. "Not one of these lovely things is mine," he said. "I should not +know what to do with them. I would rather have a few deal shelves full +of good books." + +"You don't know yourself, Macrae," was the answer. "The possession of +artistic beauty develops the taste for it. When you are rich----" + +"I shall never be rich." + +"You have a fine income." + +"I save nothing from it; a man who tries to save both his money and his +soul has a task too hard for me to manage." + +It must be acknowledged that Mrs. Caird took a dislike to the man, and +she made Dr. Macrae feel that it was important he and his visitor should +go to Glasgow on Thursday. "Take him to Bath Street," she said. "Maggie +will provide for you; besides, I am sending Kitty down to-morrow, and he +will be a hindrance to me here." + +Wednesday was very wet and the two ministers had perforce to remain in +the house, and in one of the exigencies of their prolonged +conversations Dr. Macrae unfortunately referred to the pile of +scientific religious books lying on his table. Then his visitor rose and +looked at them. + +"Yes," he said with a great sigh, "we are very scientific to-day, with +our 'tendencies' and 'streams of influence' and our various 'thought +movements.' They are all purely material." + +"They cannot be that," replied Dr. Macrae, impetuously. "Streams of +influence imply spiritual beings, and movements of thought must come +from thinkers." + +"Agreed," was the reply, "but you cannot call 'a stream of tendency,' or +'a power that makes for righteousness,' God. No, sir, you cannot, +without striking at the very foundation of Theism. The next step would +be to deny the supernatural guidance of the universe and of life. And +the next? What would it be?" + +"I know not. Such questions are mere spiritual curiosity. Keep your +thumb down on them." + +"I will tell you. The morality based on the supernatural would fail, +and, unless a man had found a scheme of scientific morality based on the +natural instead of the supernatural, he would be wrecked on the rock of +his passions. The question arises, then--is there such a scheme?" + +"You must answer your own question, Dr. Scott. As far as I can see, if +there is in scientific philosophy a rule of life that can take the place +of the Bible and Christianity, it must be able to guide the ignorant and +humble, and restrain and comfort men. Philosophy failed Cicero at the +hour of trial, and who would offer to the mourner, or the outcast, a +chapter of scientific philosophy? It would be feeding hunger on straw." + +"See here, Macrae, you are going further than I have any desire to +follow you. I am a licensed preacher of the Scotch Church. My articles +stipulate that I shall preach the doctrines of Christianity as +elucidated by the creed of John Calvin. That is the extent of my +obligation--the full extent of it." + +"No." + +"Yes. I chose the profession of Divinity, as my brother chose that of +the Law. Both are recognized means of business. I accepted Divinity as +such. I agreed to preach Calvinism to those who chose to come to my +church--to my place of business, really--and listen to me." + +"Do you believe what you preach?" + +"That is another question. Answer it yourself, Macrae. I can only say +that, in preparing for the profession of Divinity at St. Andrews +Divinity Hall, it was understood I would preach Calvinism. There was no +specification concerning my belief or non-belief in it. I was licensed +to be a preacher of Calvinism, and I have never preached anything else. +My brother has the authority of the courts to be a pleader for +criminals. He pleads well for them, and he does not much care whether +they are guilty or innocent. You see, Macrae, this preaching is a +professional business. Men are qualified for it, as men are qualified +for law or medicine. They serve--just as Divinity does--rich and poor, +good and bad. I do not know but what they are as reputable and useful +'divines' as we are." + +"Supposing you were a sceptic--as many now are--would you go on +preaching?" + +"Unquestionably. Pray, why not? What I believe is between my Maker and +myself. My congregation have nothing to do with it. My belief or +non-belief would not injure or improve my sermons. I should in either +case preach a good Calvinistic sermon; that is what I qualified myself +for. It is my business. If you have been in London you have seen in the +great thoroughfares men in scarlet blouses, whose business it is to +direct strangers to the places they wish to find. Nobody asks them about +their personal religion. If they are good guides to those seeking +certain places, they fulfil their duty. I am in just such a position. So +are you." + +"If I thought so, I would leave it at once." + +"If you had a wife and five children you would put their comfort before +your own feelings. That stands to reason. All this talk about the higher +criticism is like the sickly talk of the higher civilization; it is +anemia in some form or other. Macrae, we have our duty to the Church. We +are pledged and sworn to that. It is as much the work given us to do as +plowing and sowing are the farmer's work." + +"But the Truth--the Truth, Doctor!" + +"What is Truth, Macrae? Who knows? The Truth of yesterday is the error +of to-day." + +"Then, it never was Truth, for Truth is unaffected by time, and remains +a witness of the past, the present, and the future." + +Then the visiting cleric struck the table heavily with his closed hand +and, with a fierce intensity, whispered, + +"O Man! Man! what if all this religion should be a dream!" + +And Dr. Macrae answered, "Then, where is the Reality?" + +Both men were silent, but in the eyes of both there was that look which +is only seen in the eyes of men who are defrauding their own souls. + +In a few moments there was the tinkle of a small silver bell, and Dr. +Macrae said, "Tea is ready," and they rose together. Passing the parlor +they heard Marion trying a new song, and they loitered a moment or two +and listened, as very slowly and softly she asked: + + "What says thy song, thou joyous thrush, + Up in the walnut tree?" + "I love my Love, because I know + My Love loves me." + +A little sadly they entered the parlor, but the blazing fire threw warm +gleams on the handsomely set table; and the tempting odors of young +hyson, fresh bread, and a rook pie filled the room. Involuntarily +everyone smiled and sat down gladly to the dainty, delicate food before +them; and Dr. Macrae said to his friend: + +"Life is full of emotions. Such a variety of them, too!" + +"And all good--or, at least, pretty much so. A rook pie! That is a +luxury indeed! I suppose there is a rookery at Cramer." + +"A very ancient and a very large one," answered Dr. Macrae, and he +recognized in his own voice and manner that slight sense of +proprietorship which flavors a coming good. He was ashamed of it, and +made some foolish remark about the rooks being a present. "The birds are +not in the market," he said, "and, if they were, a poor minister could +not buy them." + +"You are a fortunate man. The country is full of blessings. I wish I +lived in the country. You must like it, Macrae." + +"I am of _Touchstone's_ opinion--in respect that it is in the fields, it +pleaseth me well; but, in respect that it is not in the city, it is +tedious. That reminds me, we shall leave for the city early in the +morning." + +"Not too early, I hope?" + +"About ten o'clock." + +"That will do very well." + +The men were up early, but Mrs. Caird saw that Ian had spent a sleepless +night. Indeed, his conversations with Dr. Scott had raised many serious +questions in his mind. Was it possible that this doubt of God's +existence--of the inspiration of the Bible--of the dogma of eternal +punishment and other vital points of Christian belief was not an +uncommon condition of the ministerial mind, not only in Calvinistic +churches but throughout the creeds of Christendom? + +"There is no absolute Faith in any Protestant Church, no matter how its +creed is written," Dr. Scott had said, with an air of knowledge and +certainty; adding, "Belief is an individual thing, Macrae, every man +must discover what is true in his own case." + +"What is the most general point of unbelief among ministers?" asked Ian, +and Dr. Scott, after a moment's reflection, answered, "I think, +perhaps, the divinity of Jesus Christ." At these words Mrs. Caird +flushed angrily, and looked at Ian. She expected him to deny this +accusation, but he only cast down his eyes and remained silent. Then, +she said, with great feeling, "Constance Norden has well described the +religion of such men as + + 'Pale Christianity, with Christ expunged; + Faint unbelief deploring its own skill, + With tomes of metaphysic lore, that sponged + The World away, leaving the lonely Will.'" + +And Dr. Scott bowed slightly, but made no other answer to Constance +Norden's accusation. + +"Do you think the divergencies of the Bible are a great difficulty, +Jessy?" and Ian looked anxiously at his sister as she answered without a +moment's hesitation, "A want of belief is the chief, is the whole +difficulty. God speaks to men and they will not believe Him." + +"You must remember, Mrs. Caird, that we have to talk to congregations +who know all about the system of Christian theology." + +"If I was a preacher, Doctor, I would let the system of theology alone. +I would take for granted the divine in men, bring them past every +disability of race, station, or morality, right into the presence of +God, and offer them all God's good will, though they were slaves or +outcasts." + +"Such sermons would not do for this era of the Church. They would have +to be gradually introduced." + +"Then do not introduce them. Better do nothing than do by halves and +quarters." + +"Our civilization, Mrs. Caird----" + +"Can never save the world. It cannot even save the individual. Besides, +our civilization, whatever it may be scientifically, is ethically +bankrupt." + +"I was going to say, Mrs. Caird, that new truths affecting old clerical +dogmas are generally offensive to old church members. Many good men live +by serving the altar. They must be considered, and your brother and I, +and every minister, knows that our people judge for themselves and only +accept what they desire to accept. Is not that so, Macrae?" And Macrae, +as he looked at his watch, answered indifferently, "You are right, +Doctor. It is now time we took the carriage if we intend to catch our +train." + +So there was movement and a little noise, but, amid it, Ian heard his +sister's answer, "To be sure, Dr. Scott, we all know well that Scotsmen +do that which is right in their own eyes--and, also, that which is +wrong." + +With the usual pleasant formalities the men went away together, and +Jessy sadly walked through the perishing garden, whispering to herself, +as she did so: + + "Through sins of sense, perversities of will, + Through doubt and pain, through guilt and shame, and ill, + Thy pitying eye is on Thy creatures still." + +For she knew in her heart that no man could be more miserable than Ian +Macrae. His religion was no longer even a habit, it had become an acute +fever, and all conversation on this tremendous subject seemed so +ineffectual, so mockingly beneath its meaning and its needs. It wearied +his aching heart and brain, and gave him neither hope nor consolation. +For he knew that any reasoned argument would be but the surface +exhibition; it was only the unreasoned and immediate assurance that +could satisfy his soul. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +DONALD TAKES HIS OWN WAY + + "Love is a sea for which no compass has been invented." + + There are times which mark epochs in life; they cut it sharply + asunder--the continuity of life is broken. + + +There was a sense of relief when the two divines were comfortably beyond +the horizon of the Little House the next morning, and Mrs. Caird could +begin her preparations for their own removal. "I was fain to come to +this place, Marion," she said, "and mightily set up with it when I got +here. But I have had lots of care in its pretty rooms and among its +flowers. So I am just as fain to go back to the big, dull rooms in Bath +Street. Paradise is fairly lost, dear. We may dream of it, but we never +find it." + +"O Aunt Jessy, some surely find it." + +"They may think they do for awhile, but indeed, + + 'There's none exempt from worldly cares, + And few from some domestic cross; + All whiles are in, and whiles are out, + For grief and joy come time about.'" + +She was tearing up some old cotton for dusters as she repeated the +rhyme, and she emphasized "some domestic cross" by a rent of rather +angry vigor; then she added, "Go to your father's study, you will be out +of the way of the cleaners there, and I have no doubt whatever that you +have an important letter to write." + +"Aunt, when did you hear from Donald?" + +"It is so long since, I have forgotten." + +"Where were they then?" + +"In the Shetland Islands. Whiles I fear they have been shut in there by +early storms, or have gone out pleasuring in some cockle shell of a boat +and got----" + +"No, no, Aunt. I had a letter from Perth. They were on the mainland the +seventh of September." + +"Then they are all right. Some day soon they'll come traipsing in, wet +and draggled, and tired and hungry." + +"They will not come here, will they?" + +"I hope not. It is little welcome I'll give them if they come after this +house is in order. They would have to go to the kitchen itself." + +"You would never do that, Aunt?" + +"Would I not? If the occasion comes you will see." + +The occasion came that afternoon. Mrs. Caird was standing before a large +chest of fine napery, counting napkins, when Donald threw open the door +of the room and, before she could speak, threw his arms around her neck +and kissed her, and kissed her over and over again. "You dear Auntie! +You dear Mammy!" he shouted, and she, between laughing and crying, +gasped out: "Be done, you ranting, raving laddie! See you have made me +drop the finger cloths, and my count is lost; and I shall have to go +over them again." + +"I'll count them for you, Mammy." + +"You!" she ejaculated with horror. "Your hands are not fit to touch +them." + +"Oh yes, you are going to give me one when you give me my dinner." + +"I will not. The tale of them is correct and just from the laundry, and +I shall not have one of them soiled for anybody." + +"Not even for Richard Cramer?" + +"Where is he?" + +"In the parlor with Marion." + +"_Humph!_" + +"And we are hungry, Auntie, and we are going to stay here to-night." + +"No. Your rooms are now in the cleaning, you had better go to the Hall." + +"Very well, we can do that." + +"No, you can't. I won't have it, and Lady Cramer is in London." + +"Jericho! What took her there? Richard will be astonished." + +"So you will have to stay here. It's notably inconvenient, but whenever +do men consider the conveniences? I'll give the two of you the +guest-room, and we will just have to stay here a day longer, and make it +decent-like after you." + +"Auntie, we are hungry; nothing to eat since breakfast, and I am not in +love. I can't live on kisses and sweet words like Richard." + +"Surely not. Come with me and I will give you pot luck until six +o'clock, then you'll get your dinner, and not a minute sooner. I have +three extra women hired by the day and I can't slack my care of them." + +"Come and see Richard. He wants to see you." + +"Not he! He would have come up with you if he had wanted bad enough." + +"He got stopped on the way. How could he pass Marion? She was watching +for him." + +"Did she know you were coming?" + +"I think so--certainly, certainly she knew." + +"And the little minx so innocently asked me if I knew!" + +So Mrs. Caird went down to the lovers, pretended to scorn them, and sent +Richard upstairs to wash and make himself like a gentleman. Then, with a +beaming face, she turned to Marion and said: "My dear girl, we will +have a few days' happiness, no matter what comes or goes. We can put the +cleaning behind the dear lads." + +"They can go to the kitchen, Aunt. They are quite used to it. From what +Richard says, I think they have mostly lived in kitchens, and also +thoroughly enjoyed kitchen hospitality." + +"That would be like them. It takes gentlemen to understand the reality +of kitchen hospitality. We will give them the best in our cupboard, and +set them a fair table in the dining-room. It is not too often in life +that true love comes to eat with you." + +"Richard must go away to-morrow. When he heard Lady Cramer was in London +it worried him. He said he must go and see what she was doing." + +"Well, then, give the day to him. When he has left to-morrow, Donald can +do a deal to help. I taught him everything about the house, as you know. +He'll not need to marry any girl that she may make the pot or kettle +boil, or sew a button on. And he'll help us with carpets and curtains, +and the like, and enjoy it. We will have one good day when we can get +it. You may look up Ecclesiasticus 14:14 for permission. So come with me +and we will spread in the dining-room a comfortable 'pick-up' for hungry +men, and you must serve and entertain them, for there is too much fine +linen lying loose, and too many strange hands around, who may be clever +at finding things--not lost." + +The dinner and the evening were all that Mrs. Caird intended. She left +the lovers very much to themselves and, wherever she was, Donald was +with her. Never had she been so proud and so fond of him. "He is the +handsomest lad in Scotland," she said, "and the best, and I care not who +says 'no' to that truth--it will stand." + +Still the visit delayed them a day, and it was Tuesday when they again +reached the Bath Street home and, for a few days, Mrs. Caird was always +finding out some advantage in it hitherto unnoticed. She was glad to +live under high ceilings once more; the Bath Street water made far +better tea. She had had enough of lamps and candlesticks forever--even +if they were made of silver--just give her a common gas burner and she +would never inquire what it was made of. Thank goodness there was a +market now to go to! You had to take what meat and poultry you could get +in the country; the fleshers in Glasgow knew they must give you the very +best, that and that only; and, above all, she could order a street car +to wait on her, or a noddy to call for her whenever she wanted to step +to church or call on a friend, and that suited her feelings far better +than any lady's Victoria. + +Dr. Macrae was not pleased at such remarks. "Gratitude is a late +plant," he said; "it grows at the very gate of heaven. A human being +hardly ever receives it. I am sure, Jessy, if you had had to pay rent +for the house and all its favors and advantages, it would have cost you +a large sum of money." + +"If you are sure, Ian, that a kindness is true kindness, it is easy to +be pleased and grateful; but, if you come to see there has been a +selfish foundation for it, why should you be grateful?" + +"There was no selfish motive in Lady Cramer's kindness, Jessy." + +"I am glad to be informed of that. I thought it was very like the +thousand pounds left you as a token of Lord Cramer's friendship. What +weary reading and writing you have given for it, not to speak of the +mental and spiritual danger and trouble, I call that thousand pounds the +worst money you ever put in your purse. I don't think you owe Lord +Cramer a pennyweight of gratitude for it. When did you get rid of the +Reverend Dr. Scott?" + +"He went home early on Monday morning. He asked a queer favor of me on +the Sabbath morning." + +"What was it?" + +"'Macrae,' he said, as we ate our breakfast, 'I ask you not to come to +the Church of the Disciples to-day. I could not preach if you were +present. I should be dumb.' I wondered at it." + +"I think it was a most natural request. Men are just like women. That +last wet day made you say things to each other you were soon sorry for." + +"That may be so. Where is Donald? Did he not return with you?" + +"He came to the very doorstep with us. Then he had to hurry away to the +Buchanan Street Station to see Lord Cramer, who is off to London." + +"Why?" + +"I never asked him. Donald will be here anon; he said he would not miss +eating with us the first meal of our home-coming. He seemed particular +about it. I thought he might be thinking of going away himself, +perhaps----" + +"He is going to St. Andrews." + +"You are reckoning without your host, Ian. Donald has not one intention +about St. Andrews." + +"Nevertheless, he is going to St. Andrews." + +"Just so--according to Ian Macrae. Donald Macrae is to hear from." + +"Every Scotchman, Jessy, considers it a great privilege to go to St. +Andrews. St. Andrew was a good and a great man." + +"He was a very prudent, forecasting Saint--the only one of the Disciples +who, at the great Preaching, knew where the bread and the fishes were. +But, though I will not preach for your Saint, I will say nothing against +him. If he can get Donald he may have him. But we will have our meal at +six o'clock, Ian, and I hope there will be only good words with it +to-night. It would be real unlucky to have a quarrel over our first +meal." + +Certainly Mrs. Caird did all she could to prevent it. It was a pleasure +to go into the firelit, gaslit room, and see the pretty plenteous table; +and to hear the pleasant laughter of Donald and Marion, who were +standing together on the hearthrug. Dr. Macrae took in the charming +picture at a glance, but his attention was specially drawn to Donald. +His holiday had improved him. He was so manly and so handsome that his +father quite involuntarily addressed him as sir. "Well, sir," he said, +"I hope you have had a good holiday." + +"A grand one! I do not see how I could have had a better one in every +way." + +"That is good. Your aunt is waiting. Let us sit down. Where did you go +first?" + +"Lord Cramer was with me and we went first to Skye, and spent nearly +four days at Dunvegan Castle with Macleod of Macleod. He remembered my +grandfather and spoke bravely of him, and, if I had not been a Scotchman +to the last drop of my blood, Dunvegan would have made me one." + +"It is the oldest inhabited castle in Scotland," said Dr. Macrae, "and +in my grandfather's day it was only accessible from the sea by a boat +and a subterranean staircase." + +"It is now approached by a modern bridge crossing the chasm." + +"Is the old castle intact?" + +"Yes, and there are many good modern additions. On the whole it is very +picturesque. We were nobly entertained. We saw all to be seen in the +neighborhood. The castle has some rare relics, also. The Macleod himself +put into our hands for a few minutes a wooden cup beautifully carved and +mounted in silver, which belonged to Catherine O'Neill in 1493. We also +saw the fairy banner which controls the destiny of the Macleods, and the +claymore and horn of Rory More, or Sir Roderick Macleod. It was a very +memorable visit, sir." + +"I am glad you have been there. You saw a grand Scotch noble. Where did +you go next?" + +"To Oban, where we spent a couple of days on the mountains with John +Stuart Blackie. Such a lunch as we had with him on the hills--curds and +rich cream--cold salmon--cold lamb--roasted duck--veal pie--ham--peas +and, of course, hard-boiled eggs. I was told Blackie does not think any +meal perfect without them. With these things we had plenty of milk, +beer, and claret with a fine rich bouquet. Blackie said claret without +it was no better than colored cold water." + +"Did Blackie talk much?" + +"Did he ever cease talking? But every word was good. You would not have +missed one of them." + +"On what subjects did he speak?" + +"While eating he told us that every meal should have three courses, +adding, 'Three is a sacred number. Aristotle settled that. Three is the +first number that has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and this gives +the perfect idea of a whole. Every dinner ought to have three courses, +every song three verses, every novel three volumes, every sermon three +heads.'" + +Dr. Macrae really laughed as he asked, "What were your three courses, +Donald?" + +"Curds and cream first, salmon and roast duck second, and, for the +third, cheddar cheese, beautifully browned oat cakes and a glass of old +port that Blackie said 'fell like the dew of Hermon' upon the oat +cakes." + +"That was like Blackie. His similes often have a Biblical flavor." + +"He talked wisely and cleverly about eating, said the Englishman was an +aristocratic animal, and his eating large, royal and rich, and that the +man who fed in his style would do nothing in a meager style. The French +thought we did not understand how to eat--that we eat without science, +had only one sauce, that we made of flour and water, and called melted +butter. He quoted Novalis for the Germans, who said, 'Eating is an +accentuated living.' I think, Father, Novalis is right, for everything +is always best when well accentuated. A student from Edinburgh joined us +while we were eating, a tall, thin man who was living on the hills to +recruit after the severe drill of last winter at the University." + +"Yes, the drill is severe," said Dr. Macrae, "unless you have a grand +purpose for it." + +"Blackie said he knew him well, that he met him near Glencoe two years +ago, and at that time he could only speak a few words in broken English. +Two years afterward he won the bronze medal in the Greek class at +Edinburgh, and that all had been done upon oatmeal, cheese, salt +herrings, and fifteen pounds sterling." + +"That is by no means a singular instance," said Dr. Macrae. "All things +are possible to a Scotch Celt in love with learning and seeing a pulpit +in the distance. No doubt his medal paid for all his privations." + +"I was very sorry for the man. That bronze medal would not have paid me +for two years' hard study and meager living." + +"I am sorry to hear you say that, Donald," and Dr. Macrae's face +suddenly shadowed, and he asked for no further stories of his son's +holiday. On the contrary he remembered some letters that must be +written, and rose, saying: + +"Donald, after breakfast to-morrow morning, I should like to speak to +you. Come to my study." + +"Yes, Father. I will certainly come." + +Then, with a slight reluctance, Dr. Macrae went away, but long afterward +he could hear, if he listened, sounds of happy talk and laughter at the +pleasant table he had deserted. And he had several longings to go back +to the cheerful parlor; his heart was not satisfied, and he could offer +it no excuse for its deprivation that it would accept. + +"I am sorry Father has gone away, Donald," said Marion. "I had a feeling +you were coming to something very interesting." + +"Then it is just as well his father did not stay to hear it," replied +Mrs. Caird. "I never saw two men whose ideas of what was interesting +were further apart than those of Ian and Donald Macrae." + +"Well," continued Donald, "our next move was a doubtful one, and it +might perhaps have seriously offended Father. I told Professor Blackie I +had a little lecture ready about the private history of our favorite +Scotch songs--the men or women who wrote them, the circumstances that +produced them, the places in which they were written, and so on. And I +said I would like to deliver it in Oban. He was greatly delighted, +offered to be my chairman, and arranged the program, adding also to my +facts many interesting anecdotes. Both Lord Cramer and I illustrated the +songs with our violins and voices, and Blackie provided the enthusiasm +for the crowds that came to hear the stories and the singing and to see +the dancing. The enthusiasm was beyond belief. Indeed, at our battle +song of Lochiel's men charging the French at Waterloo, most of the +audience stood up, and from all parts of the hall came the _Sa! Sa! Sa! +Sa!_ of a Highland regiment charging an enemy. Well, when all expenses +were paid, we had cleared one hundred and four pounds, which was very +acceptable, as we were both out of money. At Perth we raised the sum of +eighty pounds, and then at Wick we took a boat for Shetland, and had a +glorious time with the fishermen on Brassey Sound--out on the ocean with +them, all through the long, light nights, while the sunset lingered in +the west and the dawn was tremulous in the east, and the moonlight +silvered everything on earth and sea, and the aurora, with rosy +javelins, charged the zenith. Such wonderful nights! Such quiet, grave, +purposeful men! Such nets full of quivering fish, in the silver lights +between sea and deck! We got away with the strange fishers after the +_foy_ or feast and, stopping at St. Andrews, tramped through all the +queer little coast towns of the ancient kingdom of Fife and so to +Edinburgh, with three times as much money as we started with, and all +the health and happiness of the trip added to it." + +"I am glad you called at St. Andrews. What did you think of the place?" +asked Marion. + +"It is pretty enough, but the very atmosphere is learned as well as +religious, and you catch the spirit of the place whether you like or +not. Walking the streets you appear to imbibe knowledge. I could think +only of divinity, science, and philosophy. One of the professors asked +me to give my lecture, and said he would sanction the meeting--but I +could not sing there." + +"Why?" + +"Well, Marion, it is a psychical problem. The atmosphere had infected +me, and the scientific or philosophical man is never a singing man. Now, +Aunt, you see there was nothing wrong in our way of raising the wind, +but it is very uncertain how Father would look at it." + +"I do not think it would have his approval and, if you take my advice, +you will tell him nothing about it." + +The following morning, however, Dr. Macrae reverted over and over to +Donald's adventures, and would have been really glad if Donald had taken +up the subject again, but he did not care to ask the favor--partly +because he was a proud man with his children, and partly because it was +not a suitable preface for the serious conversation he intended to have +with him. He left the table before Donald and spent the interval in +steadying his mind and purpose with regard to his boy's future. Never +had he been so dear to his heart, never had he been so proud of his +beauty, his fine presence and mental alertness. He told himself the +world would be full of temptations to such a youth, so charming, and +that it was his manifest duty "to bind him, even with cords, to the +horns of the altar." There only he would be safe from the lures of the +world, the flesh, and the devil. Many things he was not sure about, but +this thing he regarded as a duty from which he could not righteously +relieve himself. + +In the midst of such a positive decision Donald, handsome and happy, +entered the room. His father met him with the respect and kindness due +from one man to another, whatever their relationship, for Dr. Macrae had +fully recognized the preceding evening the manhood of his son, and had +resolved in the future to acknowledge it in all his dealings with him. + +"Sit down, my dear Donald," he said, "I want to talk with you about your +future. Your holiday has been a long and delightful one. You have got +rid of the commercial life you disliked so much--though, by-the-by, Mr. +Reid says you would have made a good business man--now, then, I should +like you to start for St. Andrews at once, so as to go in with the +entering classes--it is always best. You will find St. Andrews a +delightful little city." + +"I spent three days there a week ago, sir. The classes were gathering +then." + +"And you liked it, I am sure?" + +"I wished to like it for your sake, Father, but I could not. I disliked +everything about it." + +"I am sorry for that, because you will require to spend a few years +there. But, even if you do not like the place, it has many compensations +and, among these I count the name that will be yours as soon as you are +entered on its list." + +"The name, sir?" + +"Yes. You will then be _A Man of St. Andrews_! Other universities have +students, scholars, fellows, etc., but St. Andrews breeds _Men_! In +after life you will know each other as 'Men' and call each other '_Man_' +with the grip of a kindly world-wide brotherhood, for East, West, North, +or South St. Andrews' 'Men' soon find each other. Donald, my dear son, +be a Man of St. Andrews." + +"O Father, I cannot. It is impossible! I would rather die." + +"Speak sensibly, Donald, men don't talk of dying because duty demands of +them a certain amount of self-denial." + +"Duty asks nothing of me, sir, in regard to St. Andrews. I have seen the +world has now one test. It asks of every man and of every proposition, +_Will it work?_ If it will not, it must go. I could not do any kind of +work in a university. Plenty of better men than I am would work +splendidly there. I should die of spiritual and mental nausea. I have +considered university life, both as regards law and medicine. I thought +we might compromise, perhaps, on medicine, but my feeling is the same. I +am an open-air man. I want to live with every part of my body at the +same time, not with my brain only--to be tethered to a desk with a book, +whether ledger or Bible, would be to me a dreadful existence." + +"We will put _me_ out of the question. Do I not deserve some honor and +obedience? It is my positive will that you should go to St. Andrews." + +"In order to give you pleasure, sir, I might be willing to give up, say +three of the best years of my life, but you would then want the whole of +my life to preach Calvinism." + +"I have given my youth and my life to preach Calvinism or the +Truth--they are the same thing." + +"If Calvinism is true, sir, then I think my opinion ought to have been +asked before I was sent into the world on such terms." + +"This talk is irrelevant. What I ask of you is, will you go to St. +Andrews and study Divinity? Donald, I will make it as pleasant as I can +for you--will you go?" + +"No, sir. Forgive me. I cannot." + +Dr. Macrae looked steadily at his son, and his large, lambent eyes were +full of tears. + +"It is for your salvation, Donald. My son, think again, your father asks +of you this favor--for your own good." + +Donald was even more moved than his father and, if he had followed his +instincts, he would have fallen at his father's knees and said, "I am +your son. I will do all you wish." But his resolve was not a something +of yesterday, and his will was the strongest force in his nature. He put +all feeling under its majestic orders and, though his heart was aching +with sorrow, he answered, "Forgive me, Father. I must take my own way. I +must live my own life." + +Then Dr. Macrae turned his face toward his desk. It was covered with +papers and he lifted a pen and began to write. Donald waited patiently, +neither speaking nor moving for about five minutes. Then his father +lifted his head and said with cold politeness, "You can go, sir, there +is nothing more to say." + +"I would like to tell you something about my plans, Father." + +Dr. Macrae went on writing and did not answer. In a few moments Donald +continued: "I have resolved to go----" + +"I have no interest in your plans, sir." + +"But Father, listen." + +Then Dr. Macrae threw down his pen. It fell upon his sermon and left a +large, unsightly blot which irritated him. He did not speak, however, +but by an almost imperceptible movement of his eyes and outstretched +hand said to Donald more plainly than words could have done, "Leave the +room!" + +With that relentless figure regarding him, Donald knew that delay or +entreaty was vain. He gave his father one long, last look, a look of +such love as would master time, and then, with two scarcely audible +words, "Farewell, Father," he obeyed the silent order he had received. + +That look pierced Dr. Macrae's heart like an arrow, and those two words +went pealing through his ears like words of doom. He threw up his hands +and rushed to the door. He wanted to cry, "Come back, come back, +Donald," but the hall was empty and still. It was but a few steps to the +front door, he opened it in frantic haste, but neither up nor down Bath +Street could he see the son he loved so dearly and had sent away so +cruelly. He called Mrs. Caird and she came from the kitchen, her hands +covered with flour. + +"What are you wanting, Ian?" she asked. "I am just throng with the +pastry." + +"Have you seen Donald within the last five minutes?" + +"Nor within the last hour. He went to your study after his breakfast. +That is the last I have seen of the poor lad. What is the matter?" + +"He has gone." + +"Gone! Where to?" + +"God knows," and, heedless of Mrs. Caird's inquiries and reproaches, he +fled to his study and locked the door. He was suffering as he had never +before suffered in all his life. He said to himself, "My heart is +bleeding," and he felt as if this sensation might be a reality. For a +long time he stood by his table quite still, heartless, hopeless, +aidless, almost senseless. He had expected a fight, but that his child +would be finally disobedient had been an incredulity to smile at. Yet he +had bid him farewell and had gone to face the world without either his +help or his counsel. + +He would take no lunch, nor would he see or speak to anyone. His heart +and brain seemed stupefied by this irreparable sorrow that had so +suddenly ruined all his happiness. He tried to think of it as appointed +and inevitable, but his heart would not listen to such a suggestion. It +told him plainly that many times all had depended on his own yes or no; +that a step forward, a look of kindness, a gesture of entreaty would +have prevented it. He understood at that hour that sorrow has only the +weapons we ourselves give her. + +The call to lunch broke the dumb stupidity which had followed the blow +of Donald's farewell. Thoughts of what the Church and friends would say +began to pierce through the first black despair of his personal feelings +and, as the clock struck two, a great change occurred. In half an hour +the postman might bring him a letter from Lady Cramer--must bring him +one. He stood up, shook himself, and went into a small adjoining room +and washed his face and hands. The knowledge that she loved him went +like wine to his heart, and her letter would bring him great +consolation; he was sure of that. + +No young girl waiting for her first love letter ever watched more +feverishly for the tall, uniformed official that was to bring it. He was +ten minutes later than usual, ten minutes full of hope and despair, but +at length the letter was given to him. It was small and light, and he +weighed it in his right hand and was disappointed. He had hoped for a +long letter telling him of all his beloved was doing, and perhaps asking +him to visit her in London, and he had resolved to accept her invitation +as soon as it came. + +There was no sign of such favor in the few hastily written lines he held +in his hand. + + DEAR IAN--You know that I love you, and I would like to tell + you so one thousand times in this little letter. I am, however, + in a tumult of hurry and preparation, for I am going to Paris + this afternoon with Lady Landgrave's party. We shall only be a + week, so do not get blue and think I have deserted you. I shall + write you a long letter from Paris, if I can find one hour by + myself. Yours, + + Ada. + +He threw the tiny note down on the table. He was in one of those +atavistic rages which should have revealed to him the original type of +bare-armed thanes from whom he was descended. His grandfather, in the +same insurrection of feeling, would have instantly put his hand on his +dirk. With a slow passion Dr. Macrae tore the offending letter into +minute pieces, and then dropped them on the burning coals, and his face +and movements during the act had a black expression of anger and +contempt. None the less he suffered, none the less he would have taken +the offending woman with unspeakable joy to his heart. + +But this tempest of rage calmed him. After it he sat down like a man +exhausted, and he wished to weep but would not. "It has been a +calamitous morning," he whispered, "but what is ordered must be borne. +If the lad would only come back! If he would only come back! But he will +not--he will not--he will never come back. I must get myself +together--there are other things, yes, there is Ada. As Donald was +preparing to leave me, she was coming for my consolation." + +Then he remembered that he had a session that night at the Church of the +Disciples--a session regarding the expenses of the coming year, and not +to be neglected. He dressed leisurely for the meeting, and then was +sensibly hungry and wished his dinner was ready. When the little silver +bell tinkled he needed no other call and, with a preoccupied air, took +his place at the table. He could see that Mrs. Caird had been crying, +and Marion was white and silent with a trace of indignation in her +manner. But, when her father clasped her hand as he took his seat and +smiled faintly, she returned his clasp and smile and looked at her aunt +with an expression that seemed to plead for tolerance. + +At the beginning of the meal there was little conversation, but when the +family were alone, Mrs. Caird said, "I hope you are feeling better, Ian. +What at all was the matter with you at the lunch hour?" + +"I was not sick. I was very wretched, and could not eat." + +"Donald, poor lad! I suppose?" + +"Just so. Donald has treated me in a very ungrateful and disobedient +manner. I know not how I can bear it." + +"Forgive him." + +"I have forgiven so often." + +"That is the way. The best children are aye doing something wrong, +forgive Donald as you go along. It is God's way with yourself, Ian." + +"His behavior has destroyed my happiness." + +"Perhaps, also, you have destroyed his happiness. Everyone has their own +kind of happiness, but you want everyone to be happy in your way or not +be happy at all. I call that even down selfishness. Ian, you have made a +great blunder. I only hope it will not be followed by a great penalty." + +"Blunder! Yes, if it be a blunder to take a man out of temptation and +put him under the best of influences." + +"You think college life the best of influences?" + +"It is better than wandering about the country as a musician, however +clever he is, must do." + +"But Donald likes wandering. He wants to see the wide world over." + +"A roving life, Jessy, leads to wavering principles. How can a man be +religious who has no settled church? Already, Donald disbelieves in the +creed his father preaches, and a man without a creed is a loose-at-ends +Christian. General scepticism will succeed it, and scepticism poisons +all the wells of life and undermines the foundations of morality." + +"Donald is no sceptic. He is a God-loving, God-fearing lad. You'll be to +excuse me now. I have a sore headache and I want to be alone." + +So she went to her room and Dr. Macrae was much annoyed at her air of +injury and sorrow. + +"Your aunt is fretting about Donald," he said. "Donald has behaved very +cruelly to me, Marion. I suppose you know how." + +"About college, Father?" + +"Yes. I begged him, for his own good, to go to St. Andrews, and he +flatly refused, bid me farewell, and left his home." + +"Did you not ask him where he was going?" + +"No." + +"I am so sorry." + +"I knew you would be sorry for me. Never would Marion treat her father +in a way so disrespectful and disobedient, eh, dear?" + +"While I live I never will say farewell to you, my dear Father." + +"You will always obey my wishes, I know." + +"When I can, yes, when I can I will always gladly obey them." + +"Do I not know what is best for you?" + +"Not always, you might be wrong sometimes, Father--everybody is wrong +sometimes--but, even so, I would obey you if I could." + +"You mean that if you could not you would take your own way?" + +"Not exactly." + +"And say farewell to me and leave your home?" + +"I would never say farewell to you. I do not think I would leave my home +in any such way." + +"What would you do?" + +"Love you and die daily at your side. When you saw me suffering you +would give me my desire, because it would be my life." + +"I would not. If confident I was right I would not do wrong to please +you. And it would be far better for you to die than to make yourself a +wanderer in improper company and a prodigal daughter." + +"Father, fear to say such words. I am God's daughter. I am your daughter +and I do not forget I am a daughter of the honorable clan of Macrae. +Such words are an insult to me, to yourself, and to every Macrae, living +or dead." She rose as she spoke and with a white, angry look was leaving +the room when her father laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder and +said: + +"Promise me you will not marry anyone without my consent." + +"For nearly two years, Father, I could only make a runaway marriage, +liable to be temporarily broken at your will." + +"Why do you say temporarily?" + +"Because, if I loved any man well enough to run away with him I should +stay with him forever. You might sever us 'temporarily,' but I should go +back to him as soon as I went twenty-one and marry him over again," and +her face flushed crimson, and she lifted her brimming eyes to her father +and added: + +"But all the time I should love you. I should never say farewell to you. +To the end of my life, throughout all eternity, I should be your +daughter, and you would be my dear, dear Father. Is not that so? Yes, it +is! It is!" + +He looked at her with a swelling heart full of intense admiration and +unbounded love. He could have struck and kissed her at the same moment, +but he could find no words to answer her loving question. So he lifted +his hand from her proud, indignant form and, with such a sob as may come +from a breaking heart, he turned from her to go to his study. She could +not bear it. When the parlor door shut, that piteous cry was still in +her ears, and she hastened to the study after him. But just as she +reached the door she heard the key turn in its lock. + +Then she fled upstairs and found her aunt lying still in the +semidarkness of her room. "Aunt! Aunt!" she cried in a passion of tears, +"I cannot bear it! No, I cannot bear it! My poor Father! Someone ought +to think of his feelings. Yes, indeed they ought." + +"It seems to me, Marion, that you are busy enough in that way. What is +the matter with the Minister now?" + +Then Marion, with many tears and protestations, related her conversation +with her father, and Mrs. Caird listened as one destitute of much +sympathy, and, when she spoke, her words were not more comforting. + +"You are a half-and-half creature, Marion; neither here nor there, +neither this, that, nor what not. Why didn't you speak plainly to him as +your brother did? Mind this! You can't move the Minister with tears and +a mouthful of good words. Not you! He will keep up his threep like a +gamecock till he dies with it in his last crow. I'm telling you--heed me +or not--I am telling you the truth." + +"No, he will not, Aunt." + +"Such to-and-fro words as you gave him! He'll build his own way strong +as Gibraltar upon them. See if he doesn't. Your fight is all to do over, +but, as you have taken the matter in your own hands, you and him for +it." + +"O Aunt! I am so miserable." + +"Well, then, I have seen lately that you are never happy unless you are +miserable." + +"I have not heard from Richard, either yesterday or to-day." + +"What is that! At your age I was very proud and satisfied with a love +letter once in a fortnight. That's enough in all conscience." + +"Two weeks! If Richard was so long silent it would kill me." + +"Have you any more nonsense to talk?" + +"Aunt, do not be cross with me. I thought you were as full of trouble as +I am. Why else did you come here?" + +"Partly to keep the doors of my lips shut, and partly to think. I am not +full of trouble. I cannot do as I wish to do, but I have a Friend who +does all things well. And, when it is my time to act, I shall be ready +to act. Now go to your sleeping place and dream without care sitting on +your heart; then in the morning you can rise with a clear, trusting +soul, such as God loves." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +MARION DECIDES + + "Love is indestructible, + Its holy flame forever burneth, + From heaven it came, to heaven returneth. + + "Love is the secret sympathy, + The silver link, the silken tie, + Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, + In body and in soul can bind." + + +After Donald left his father he went straight to his aunt's room and, +when she had finished making her pastry, she found him there, nursing +his anger and sorrow with passionate tears and words of +self-justification. He had kept a brave face to his father, but to his +aunt-mother he wept out all his trouble, and he was comforted as one +whom his mother comforteth. When Dr. Macrae asked her if she knew where +Donald was she had truthfully answered, "No," but she instantly +suspected, and shortened her work as much as possible in order to go to +him. + +They talked cautiously of his plans and prospects and, when dinner time +arrived, she surreptitiously carried him a good meal upstairs; for she +was not willing that the servants should discuss Donald's quarrel with +his father--the Master being to them, first of all, an ecclesiastic with +a suggestion of the surplice ever around him. She knew their sympathy +would veer decidedly toward the Master, for Donald played the "wee +sinfu' fiddle" too much, and, as he went through the halls and parlors, +was always whistling some irreligious reel, or strathspey, forbye hardly +keeping himself from dancing it. + +He was in his aunt's sitting-room while Marion related to her the +conversation she had just had with her father and, no doubt, Mrs. +Caird's short and rather indifferent attention to her niece's trouble +arose from the stress of his unacknowledged presence. For Donald had +begged not to see Marion that evening. "She will ask me all kinds of +questions about Richard," he said, "questions I cannot answer until I +see him." So Marion felt as if she had been snubbed and sent off to bed +with a little sermon just when she wanted to talk of Richard more than +she had ever before done. Mrs. Caird explained the circumstances to her +the following day, but she was more offended than satisfied by the +explanation. + +"You supposed, Aunt," she answered, "that I was so selfish as to be +insensible to Donald's anxiety and trouble, and would put my own before +his. You must have a poor opinion of me. It hurts me." + +"You are too sensitive, Marion. Donald is going away from us." + +"Where is he going to?" + +"He does not know until he hears from Richard." + +"Where is Richard? I have not had a letter from him in two days." + +"I do not know--exactly." + +"Nor do I. He told me that he was going to see Lady Cramer about the +settlement of his debt to her. It is shameful in her to press it." + +"Not at all. It is her right. He said that himself." + +"I did not mind getting no letter yesterday, but here is another day +nearly gone, and I do not expect to sleep a moment to-night. I am so +anxious about him." + +"Preserve us all! What are you talking about? It is fairly sinful of you +to be making trouble where there is none. That is the way to worry love +to death, if so be you want that result." + +"You care for no one but Donald now, Aunt." + +"You are not far wrong. Donald is in trouble." + +"You love Donald best." + +"I like Donald's way best. There is no shilly-shallying with Donald. I +like a definite 'Yes' and 'No' in answer to important questions." + +"Women cannot get into passions and say unladylike words, especially to +their fathers. You taught me that yourself. 'Exceed in nothing. Be +moderate in all things.' These were among your regular advices." + +"All right. Moderation is a very respectable word. I wish you would +apply it to the subject of letters." + +"You are cross with me, Aunt, and without any reason." + +"Reason enough when I see you worrying yourself--and me, also--about the +coming of a letter from your lover; and caring nothing about the going +away--perhaps forever--of your own brother. Kin is closer than all other +ties--ever and always, blood is thicker than water." + +Then Marion was angry. "I am glad I was respectful and moderate with +Father," she said haughtily. "He is the best and greatest of men. He is +the Minister of God. I cannot be too respectful. I intend----" + +"To marry Allan Reid and send away Richard Cramer. Good girl! I wish you +joy of your choice--such as it is." + +For six days the partial estrangement lasted, but Marion and her father +seemed to enjoy the interval. They were much together, and Mrs. Caird +was frequently startled by the Minister's hearty laugh over some of +Marion's observations, and once by his actually joining her in singing +that tender little love song, "My Love's in Germany." + + "My love's in Germany, + Send him hame! Send him hame! + My love's in Germany, + Fighting for loyalty, + He may ne'er his Jeannie see, + Send him hame! Send him hame!" + +The enthralling longing and sweetness of this melody doubtless echoed +the dearest wish of both hearts; for, if Marion was watching for Richard +Cramer, the Minister had an equal fervor of desire for his beautiful +Ada. + +For a week there appeared to be no change in affairs, but the slight +feeling of separation or estrangement did not trouble Mrs. Caird. She +knew that Donald was with his Uncle Hector, and would be there until +Richard's return; then, it would be time enough for her to interfere, if +interference was necessary. But during this interval, Donald had +requested her to give no one any information as to his whereabouts. For, +though his uncle had sheltered him readily and kindly, he had also said: + +"Mind this, Donald. You are to keep a close mouth about Uncle Hector. I +could not endure every woman in the Church of the Disciples clacking +with their neighbor concerning the sin of my encouraging you in your +disobedience against your father. You are freely welcome, laddie, but +you must be quiet for a few days. I have written to Richard to hurry +himself here, for reasons of my own, as well as yours. I see you are +wondering at my writing to Lord Cramer." + +"I did not know you were friendly--that is all." + +"I knew the present Lord Cramer when you were in petticoats and ankle +bands. The late Lord Cramer and I fished in Cromarty Bay, and hunted on +Cromarty Hills together half a century ago. When he got the estate into +trouble it was my care and skill saved it from roup and rent rack. Then +he married his second wife, a butterfly of a woman who wasted and helped +her stepson to waste, and I knew well things were going wrong long +before the old lord died." + +"Richard told me," said Donald, "that it was not so much the amount he +was owing as the people to whom it was due that had made him resolve to +retire for awhile and let the income of the estate have time to pay its +debts." + +"He is right. His stepmother is a large creditor and she bores him. The +Jews come next and, sleeping or waking, they are robbing him. We are +going to stop all such plundering; then, if he will be quiet a short +time, he will be in comfortable circumstances. He tells me he is going +to marry Marion, and I am bound to make things as pleasant as possible +for my niece. Forbye I have a liking for the young man on his own +account." + +"You will then be uncle to a lord, if you are caring for such mere +words." + +"I am uncle to _the Macrae_, that is honor enough. The Macraes are a far +older and more honorable family than the Cramers; 'by our permission' +they settled in Cromarty--well, well, this is old world talk, and means +nothing to the matter in hand. You will stay quietly here till I have +done with Richard." + +"Will you require him long, Uncle?" + +"A day will be sufficient. I only want his authority to use his name to +papers necessary to carry out my plans for his relief." Then he laughed +and, clapping his hands resoundingly, cried out, "Great Scot! How amazed +he will be to learn of his good luck!" + +"Oh, I hope he has some good luck! He is such a fine fellow!" + +"Luck! Wonderful luck! Undreamed of good luck. But that is the way +godsends come--steal round a corner of your life, and stand at your +door, and never sign or whisper before them." + +"If I have to stay a few days, Uncle, is there not something I can do to +earn my bread while I wait?" + +"Plenty of writing you can do; only, you'll not write a line to your +sister. If you do, she will come with her own answer, all smiles and +tears and compliments, things I can't stand against, and won't try to." + +"I will not write to Marion at all. I must write to my aunt. She will +tell no one. I will swear it for her." + +"As far as I know, your aunt is a prudent, douce woman; but crooked and +straight are all women, uncertain, Donald, uncertain as the law." + +"Not so with aunt. Jessy Caird is straight all through and at all +times." + +"I'll take your word for her. It is only for an odd occasion; one +promise at a time is as far as I durst trust myself with any woman." + +So Mrs. Caird was not astonished when, one morning in the early part of +the following week, Lord Cramer entered the Minister's parlor while the +family were at breakfast. He held Marion's hand while he offered his +other hand to Dr. Macrae; and Dr. Macrae took it, though Mrs. Caird +noticed that he left the table while doing so, saying he had finished +his breakfast and, when Lord Cramer had done likewise, he would be glad +if he would come into his study for a little conversation. "And, pray," +he added, "how was Lady Cramer when you left her?" + +"In the finest of health and spirits," was the answer. "Indeed, sir, you +would vow she was but twenty years old. She is the gayest of the gay, +and outdresses the Parisians." + +Dr. Macrae bowed, but made no answer, and Mrs. Caird, who knew every +phase and mood of the man's temper, was quite sure that no words could +have translated that silence. It was like a black frost. For he had in +his breast pocket a letter from Lady Cramer, received an hour +previously, in which she described herself as really ill with longing +for him, having no heart for the follies and gaieties of Paris and +seldom going out. Further, she declared that nothing but the wretched +climate of Scotland kept her from flying back to Cramer and to him; but +her cough troubled her in damp weather, and she felt herself frail, and +wished to get well and strong for his sake. + +"And I have been believing and pitying this lying woman!" he said in an +awful whisper, as he took the false message from his breast, and with a +silent rage savagely placed his foot upon it. "I will never write +another word to this shameless creature! I will never speak to her +again! If she sought her pardon at my feet, I would spurn her from me," +and to such passionate evil promises he trod the lying letter under his +foot. Then he sat down, erect and motionless, with eyes fixed and arms +folded across his breast. For, though trouble with the majority runs +into motion, with Dr. Macrae it gathered itself together, and in a +still, dumb intentness thought out how best to suffer or to do. + +Fortunately Richard had so much to say to Marion that his breakfast +occupied him nearly a couple of hours, and by that time Dr. Macrae had +decided on his course. He was now more than ever determined to prevent +his daughter's marriage to Lord Cramer. How could he permit her to come +under the influence of a woman so wicked as Lady Cramer? She would +either alienate his daughter from him or she would alienate her husband, +and make his child a wronged and miserable wife. To prevent this +marriage had suddenly become the most imperative duty of his life. + +Really, from Dr. Macrae's point of view, there was nothing favorable for +Marion in it. He held his uncle's ideas with regard to the superior +nobility of the Macraes; he did not like Lord Cramer personally, and he +believed him to be much poorer than he really was. With the pertinacity +of his race he still clung to the Reid alliance. He told himself that +circumstances have a kind of omnipotence, and that any day they might +alter affairs so radically that Marion might come to see things as he +did. "If Cramer would only go to the other side of the earth," he +whispered, "it would leave a vacuum in Marion's life. Nature abhors a +vacuum; she would hasten to fill it, and there is the possibility--yes, +the likelihood--that Allan might slip into that other man's place, or +the other man might be killed--or he might see someone he liked better +than Marion--if Richard Cramer would only go away--if he would only go +forever--yes, forever! It is no sin to wish a bad man to his deserts." + +At this reflection Richard Cramer entered the room, and the first words +he uttered seemed to promise a realization of Dr. Macrae's desire. + +"Well, sir," he said, as he took the chair Dr. Macrae indicated, "well, +sir, I am going with the Enniskillen Dragoons to India next week, but +our route is far north, and so we shall doubtless escape the cholera." + +"But not the warlike native tribes?" + +"We are going to turn them into peaceable tribes." + +"Not an easy task." + +"It will be done." + +"Yes--finally." + +"Sir, you must know that I have loved your daughter ever since I first +saw her. I ask your permission to make her my wife." + +Dr. Macrae remained silent. + +"I cannot bear the idea of waiting for nearly two years." + +"You will be compelled to wait." + +"Sir?" + +"It is my will that you wait." + +"Marion wishes to go with me." + +"Have you asked her to go with you?" + +"Not definitely, but----" + +"Ah! I thought so." + +"I will ask her to go with me now, and she will go." + +"She will not. I forbid it. She will be her own mistress in twenty +months. She can marry you then--if she wishes. But I advise you to give +her up." + +"Never! Until Marion gives me up I will never give Marion up. I swear +it!" + +"She is my daughter for twenty months longer. Time is sure to bring +changes. Even now she would not leave me to go with you to India. You +must be mad to imagine such a thing." + +"I am in love. I trust her love by my own. She will do as I wish." + +"She will keep faith with her father. You shall see that," and he rose, +threw open the door of the room, and called imperatively, + +"_Marion!_" + +"Yes, Father," was the ready answer. "Do you want me?" + +"Yes. Come quickly." + +Lord Cramer had followed him into the hall, and when Dr. Macrae +perceived this some innate, in-born sense of courtesy due the stranger +within his gate caused him to return at once to his study. In two or +three minutes Cramer followed. He had Marion's hand in his, and Mrs. +Caird was but a few steps behind. She entered the room with them, and +Dr. Macrae looked at her not very pleasantly. + +"I did not call you, Jessy," he said. + +"I am aware of that fact, Ian," she answered. "I called myself." + +"We are not requiring your presence." + +"I was never more needed. What for are you wanting Marion?" + +"You can stay and hear, if you wish." + +Then Dr. Macrae took the chair at his desk, and Marion and Lord Cramer +stood before him. Their hands were still clasped, and unconsciously +Marion leaned slightly toward her lover. The transfiguration of love +suffused her face, and she stood smiling in all its glory. Dr. Macrae +was struck afresh by a beauty he had hitherto regarded too little. He +saw in her at this hour the noblest type of Celtic loveliness--its +winning face, splendid form, rich coloring, all vivified by a +well-cultivated intellect, and made charming and winsome by childlike +confidence and simplicity. For a moment his heart swelled with pride as +the sense of his fatherhood flashed over him. + +"Marion," he said not unkindly, "Marion, Lord Cramer tells me you are +willing to go to India with him. I cannot believe it." + +"I have promised Richard to be his wife, so then, wherever he dwells, +there my home will be. Is not that right, Father?" + +"Yes, under proper conditions. But a promise made out of law and time is +no promise. The law of your native land forbids you to make that +promise, without my consent, until you are twenty-one years old." + +"What right has the law of England to interfere with my marriage?" Then +she laughed cheerfully, and said, "But it is no matter, dear Father, for +you are above the law in this case. You have only to say, 'I do not want +to delay or spoil your happiness, Marion; I am quite willing you should +marry----'" + +"Marion, it would be impossible for me to say such words. How can I be +willing for you to go to a country so far off--a country full of deadly +diseases and constant fighting--where the heat is intolerable and savage +beasts, treacherous men and deadly serpents abound everywhere--yes, +where even the insect life makes human existence a constant torture." + +"Father, many delicately nurtured women brave all these things, for +their husbands' sakes." + +"Yes, and the majority die in doing so. That is, however, your side of +the question. But I also have a definite right in this matter, a direct +ethical right, which in the stress of this unhappy hour I feel fully +justified in claiming. In my favor the law considers that for nineteen +years I have had all the care, anxiety and expense of your feeding, +clothing and education--that I have provided you with teachers and +physicians, and looked after your religious instruction." + +"I cannot see that there was any necessity for the law of the land to be +looking after your rights in respect to the care and education of the +children," said Mrs. Caird. "The interest of Marion's money paid both +Marion's and Donald's expenses excepting----" + +"I am stating the conditions and provisions of a law, Jessy, not any +particular application of it." + +"Then what for are you naming its application to yourself?" + +Dr. Macrae ignored Mrs. Caird's question, and continued: "This law +argues, and very justly, that a girl who has received nineteen years of +unlimited love and attention of all kinds should remain until she is +twenty-one to brighten her parents' home, learn how to estimate their +affection and goodness to her, and get some ideas concerning the world +into which she may finally go. It permits her parents, also, to bring +proper lovers to her notice, and to point out the faults of those not +worthy of her regard. It is a law that all girls with money of their own +should rigorously observe;" and in making this last remark Dr. Macrae +looked so pointedly at Lord Cramer that he was quite justified in +defending himself. + +"Minister Macrae," he said, "I have never supposed that Marion had any +fortune; if she has, I want none of it. You ought to know that. Not a +penny piece." And he raised his head proudly and drew Marion closer to +his side, and whispered a word or two, which she answered by a bright, +loving smile, and an emphatic, "No!" + +"Marion has twenty thousand pounds from her mother," said Dr. Macrae. +"She has a very wealthy uncle who will not forget her--and other +relatives." + +"You need not count Jessy Caird among 'the other relatives,' Ian. My +money is all going to Donald--every bawbee of it." + +Dr. Macrae looked at her, and then continued: "My dear Marion, the case +is now fully stated to you. You are your own judge. I am at your mercy"; +and he stood up and regarded the poor girl with eyes from which his +passionate soul radiated an influence that it was almost impossible to +resist. + +"O Father!" she cried, "what is it you wish?" + +"That you should deal justly with me. If you have no love left for your +father, at least give him justice." + +"You mean that I must pay you the toll of two years' love service for my +support and education?" + +"Yes." + +Then she turned to her lover and put her hands upon his shoulders. Her +cheeks were flaming and her eyes brimming with tears. "Good-bye, +Richard!" she cried. "Good-bye, dearest of all! I must pay this debt. My +Father refuses to release me. I must free myself." + +"This decision is what I expected from my daughter," said Dr. Macrae, +and he rose and went to her side and took her hand. + +"One moment, sir!" said Richard, with all the scorn imaginable; "and, +Marion, my darling, remember in one year, seven months and eleven days I +shall come for you. It is dreadful to leave you so long in the power of +a man so cruel and so wickedly selfish, but----" + +"Our interview is over, Lord Cramer, and I do not forget that abuse is +the privilege of the defeated." + +Richard was holding Marion's hands, looking into her dear face, +listening to her short, quick words of devotion, and he never answered +Dr. Macrae one word, but the look on Lord Cramer's face, his defiant +attitude, and his marked and intentional silence were the most +unbearable of repartees. He glanced then at Mrs. Caird, and, putting +Marion's arm through his own, they passed out of the room together. Dr. +Macrae was furious, but Mrs. Caird stepped between him and the lovers, +and, while Richard was kissing and comforting his betrothed, and +promising to come again that night for a last interview, there were some +straight, never-to-be-forgotten words passing between the Minister and +his sister-in-law. + +No one that day wanted dinner. Mrs. Caird and Marion had a cup of tea in +Mrs. Caird's parlor, and the Minister refused to open his door or answer +anyone that spoke to him. But the maids in the kitchen, as they ate an +unusually long and hearty meal, were sure the Minister was right and +Mrs. Caird and Miss Marion wrong. In those days Scotchmen were always +right in any domestic dispute, and the women always wrong. For six +thousand years of strict wife culture had taught women not only to give +three-fourths of the apple to man, but also to assume all the blame of +their enjoyment of it. + +What the Minister suffered and did in those lonely hours between morning +and evening no one but God knew. There was not a movement in the room +nor any sound of a human voice, either in prayer or complaint. Dr. +Macrae was not a praying man--what Calvinist can be? If all this trouble +had come of necessity, if it had been foreordained, how could he either +reason with God or entreat Him for its removal? It was in some way or +other necessary to the divine scheme of events; it would be a grave +presumption to desire its removal. + +Always questions of this kind had stood between God and Dr. Macrae, so +that he considered private prayer a dangerous freedom with the purpose +of the Eternal. Alas! he did not realize that we are members of that +mysterious Presence of God in which we live and move and have our being; +and that, as speech is the organ of human intercourse, so prayer is the +organ of divine fellowship and divine training. He had long ceased to +pray, and they who do not use a gift lose it; just as a man who does not +use a limb loses power in it. Poor soul! How could he know that prayer +prevails with God? How could he know? + +Marion had, however, the promise of a farewell visit in the evening, and +what had not been said in the morning's interview could then be +remedied. For this visit she prepared herself with loving carefulness, +putting on the pale blue silk, with pretty laces and fresh ribbons, +which was Richard's favorite, and adding to its attractions a scarlet +japonica in her black hair. She knew that she had never looked lovelier, +and after her father had left the house she began to watch for her +lover. Richard was aware that the Minister was due at his vestry at +half-past seven, and Marion was sure that Richard would be with her by +that time. He was not. At eight o'clock he had neither come nor sent any +explanation of his broken tryst. By this time she could not speak and +she could not sit still. At nine o'clock she whispered, "He is not +coming. I am going to my room." + +"Wait a little longer, dear," said Mrs. Caird. + +"There is no use, Aunt. He is not coming. I can feel it." + +And Marion's feelings were correct. Richard neither came nor sent any +explanation of his absence, and the miserable girl was distracted by her +own imaginations. In the morning she was so ill her aunt would not +permit her to rise. Hour after hour they sat together, trying to evoke +from their fears and feelings the reason for conduct so unlike Richard +Cramer's usual kindness and respect. + +"He has concluded to decline a marriage so offensive to my father," said +Marion. "I have thought of his behavior all night long, Aunt, and this +is the only reason he can possibly have." + +By afternoon Mrs. Caird was weary of this never-ceasing iteration, and +finally agreed with her niece. Then Marion had a pitiful storm of +weeping, and, after she had been a little comforted, Mrs. Caird suddenly +said, with a voice and expression of hope, "I know what to do. Why did I +not think of it before?" + +"What will you do, Aunt? What will you do?" + +"I will go and see your uncle. He can clear up the mystery--if there is +one. It is now two o'clock. I will go straight about the business. At +the worst I can but fail, and I never do fail if there is any +probability to work on. Wait hopefully for an hour or two, and I will be +back with good news, no doubt." + +Then she dressed herself with some care, and, calling a cab, drove to +Major Macrae's house in Blytheswood Square. It was a handsome, +self-contained dwelling with business offices at the back. There was no +intimation of this purpose, but the visitors who went there on business +knew the plain green door that admitted them to chambers about which +there was an atmosphere of great concerns and aristocratic +business--perhaps also of some mystery. The latter distinction suited +Macrae; it was necessary to the class of clients with whom he did the +most of his business. + +It clung also to himself, almost as if it was a natural characteristic. +No man of wealth and prominence was so little known and so much +misunderstood, but he was amused, rather than annoyed, by the variety of +opinions concerning him, holding himself always a little apart, so as to +be in important matters a final judge or director. He had quite as much +temper as his nephew, but it was better in kind and surer in control. +His intellect was broad and clear, his love of literature knew no +limitation, and in religious matters he trusted no living man. He was a +master among his fellows, and he did not give women any opportunities to +influence him. It was known that he had positively refused to attend to +the business of ladies of high birth and great wealth, and even his +house servants were all young men, noiseless, silent, thoroughly trained +for the work they had to do. + +All these real peculiarities, with many others not as real, were +familiar to Mrs. Caird, and at a little earlier date she would never +have thought of calling on him. But Donald's opinion of his uncle had +entirely changed her own, and she looked forward with a pleasant +curiosity to an opportunity to form her own estimate. She found him in a +fortunate mood. He was taking his afternoon smoke when her card was +given to him, and it roused instantly in his mind a curiosity to see +whether Donald's love and lauding of Aunt Caird were worth anything. +Also he liked to know the innermost coil of an untoward or unhappy +circumstance, and he was not sure that either Donald or Richard had made +a naked confession to him. In this family affair he felt sure Mrs. Caird +might be the key to the situation. + +So he rose with great cordiality to meet her, and a moment's glance at +the pretty woman so handsomely dressed, so well poised, so smiling and +good-mannered, thoroughly satisfied him. With the grace and courtesy of +a man used to the best society, he placed a chair near his own for her, +and during that act Mrs. Caird made a swift but correct estimate of the +man she had to manage. Physically he had the great stature and dark +beauty of his family. His hair was still black, his eyes large and gray, +with a courageous twinkle in the iris, his figure erect, his walk +soldierly, his manner commanding. He impressed a stranger as tough, +unconquerable, fearless, like an ash tree, yielding very slowly, even to +time. + +"Now, Mrs. Caird," he said, as he seated himself beside her, "I know you +have not come to call on me without a reason. Is it about the children?" + +"Just that, Major, and thank you for coming to the point at once. I am +very unhappy about Donald." + +"Let me tell you Donald has taken the road of happiness to his own +desires. To ware your sympathy on Donald is pure wastrie. The lad is +happy." + +"Where is he?" + +"I could not tell you, unless I was at sea, and taking his latitude and +longitude." + +"Where is he going?" + +"To New York--perhaps." + +"America?" + +"Ay, America is the second native land of all not satisfied with their +first one." + +"Have you any address through which a letter would reach him in New +York?" + +"Ay, I have." + +"I want to send him one hundred pounds. Will you send it for me?" + +"No, I will not. There will be three hundred pounds lying in the Bank of +New York for him when he gets there, and he had sixty pounds with him. +That is enough at present. He can make a spoon or spoil the horn with +that." + +"Is he going to stop in New York?" + +"Not long. New Yorkers are very easy with their money. They'll give it +away for a song that pleases them--or a lilt on the wee fiddle--or even +a few steps of clever dancing." + +"I know someone, not far from me, just as easy with their money--under +the same circumstances." + +Then the Major laughed. "You are right, Mrs. Caird," he said. "I declare +you are right. Oh, but you are a quick woman!" + +"Well, after he has done with New York, where is he then going?" + +"Straight west as far as the Mississippi River. What he will do on the +way to the river no one knows--but luck is waiting for him." + +"Perhaps he will go to California." + +"No. California gold does not tempt him. He is going down the +Mississippi to New Orleans. A good many Scotch boys are there. I gave +him letters to three whom I sent to New Orleans fourteen years ago. They +are well-to-do cotton merchants now." + +"You help a great many men, Major?" + +"These three smoked their pipes with me in the trenches at Redan; and we +rode together down the red lanes of Inkerman. I was making friends for +Donald then." + +"But Donald will not stay in the city of New Orleans?" + +"Would Donald stay in any city? As soon as he wishes it he will journey +for that land of God called Texas. If I had been twenty years younger, I +would have gone with him--just for a sight of the place. Glorious +things are told of it--you would think it was the New Jerusalem itself." + +"Once I heard Richard Cramer say that he was going there to stay with a +friend. Why did you send him to the army?" + +"Did I send him?" + +"He told us you advised the army." + +"Ay, but _sending_ and _advising_ are very different terms." + +"In your mouth, Major, they would be the same." + +Then the Major laughed again and answered: "You have a wonderful +perception, Mrs. Caird. I dare say Cramer told you to what locality in +Texas he was going? Donald is now going there for him." + +"He spoke most of the immense ranch of Lord Thomas Carew. He said he had +bought with his inheritance as a younger son a dukedom of the richest +and loveliest land in the world--somewhere on the Guadaloupe River, not +far from San Antonio. It was like listening to a fairy tale to hear him +describe its beauties. And he said that last summer the ladies, Alice +and Annie Carew, accompanied by their eldest brother, visited Lord +Thomas; and that, after four months' stay in his handsome bungalow, when +they had to return to England, Lady Alice refused to leave Texas. He +thought she was still there." + +"She is. I had a letter from her father a week ago, and he told me Lord +Thomas and Lady Alice were yet living in Paradise. They are just 'Tom +and Alice Carew' there. Their life is absolutely free, simple and happy. +Titles would be too big a burden to carry, but they will be glad of +Donald's company, and make much of him, doubtless." + +"They will that. Oh, the dear, dear, joyful singing lad!" and, though +Mrs. Caird's voice was low and soft, there was a caress in every word +she spoke. + +The Major looked at her with pleasure, and then asked, "How is Donald's +sister? Is she as lovable and handsome as her brother?" + +"Whiles--in a woman's way--yes. Her father's heart is set on her, and +she is breaking her heart about Richard Cramer's going to India. What +for, at all, did you send him?" + +"Me send him?" + +"Yes, you." + +"Well, as you are a wise woman, and love all of the three youngsters, +I'll tell you. I sent Richard Cramer out of my way. I sent him where he +could not meddle or interfere with what I am doing to make him solvent +and happy. And I wanted him to be under authority a little before I put +him in full possession of a big estate, free of debt. He has had too +much of his own way--he is obeying orders now--that's good for him." + +"But when you set him free, what then?" + +"He will marry Marion Macrae, and I count on a Macrae--man or +woman--getting their full share of their own way in all things." + +"Why did he not come and bid Marion good-bye last night? She is fairly +ill this morning. Why did he not come?" + +"Because, while the Minister and he were explaining themselves, a +telegram came ordering him to join his ship without a moment's delay. +She was going to sail Thursday, instead of Saturday. I had two men +seeking him, and his valet had packed his valise, and he had twenty +minutes to reach his train. He could not have written her, even a line, +if someone had not been thoughtful enough to have paper and pencil ready +to push into his hand." + +"Then he did write to her?" + +"Ay, he wrote to her. Poor lad, he was near to crying as he did so." + +"She never got that letter." + +"My certie! I forgot it! Will you take it?" + +"Will I take it? It is what I came for. Goodness! Gracious! Only to +think of you keeping what may be his last message to her! O man, how +could you? It is a cruel-like thing to do. It was that." + +"I am very sorry for it. I quite forgot. I am not used to sending love +letters. I never was in love in my life." + +"I am not believing you. No, sir! I am sure some good woman's love +sweetened the dour, ill-tempered Macrae blood in your heart. Think +backward a matter of forty years and you will maybe remember her name." + +He looked at Mrs. Caird in amazement, and then lifted her hand, "You are +right," he answered slowly. "I remember her, a dear, sweet girl, fresh +and pure as the mountain bluebells she had in her hand when we first +met. She died one morning--whispering my name as she went. I loved her! +Yes, I loved her!" + +"Good man! I am glad you told me. I know you now, and I am not feared +for you any longer. Give me Marion's letter." + +"Cannot you stay half an hour longer?" + +"Not now." + +"I want to talk to you about Ian." + +"You had better talk to him. He is requiring some one to do so. He is +spelling life now with a woman's name." + +"Marion's?" + +"No." + +"The lovely widow Grant's?" + +"No. You must look higher up." + +"You don't--you can't mean Lady Cramer?" + +"Just Lady Cramer." + +"The mischief! Is it true?" + +"True? I should say so. I am living at his side, and love and a cold +can't be hid. Forbye, he is reading books he has no business to read, +and writing letters he ought not to write--love letters." + +"Why should he not write love letters if he wishes to do so?" + +"Because I am sure my Lady Cramer is only making a fool of him." + +"It would be most like her--though mind you, Mrs. Caird, she is playing +with fire. Ian is a very fascinating man. She will likely get the +heartache herself she is sorting out for him. I'll have a talk with the +Minister. Think of him trusting that woman! the blind fool! the mortal +idiot!" + +"Not as bad as that." + +"Ay, and worse, if I had the words I want for his folly. Here is +Marion's letter. Tell her I am perfectly annoyed at myself for +forgetting it. She must forgive me." + +"Good-bye, Major. I am glad I came." + +"Good-bye. You are welcome here. I hope you will come again--soon." + +And oh, how welcome she was when she reached home. Marion was watching +for her, and when Mrs. Caird, as she left the cab, held up the letter +Marion was at the door to take it from her hand. Her eyes dilated with +rapture when she saw Richard's writing, and, after kissing and thanking +her aunt, she ran away with it to her room. There was no offense in +that--Mrs. Caird both understood and sympathized with the movement. And +when she went into the parlor, an hour afterward, she found Marion +rocking gently in the firelight and, with closed eyes, singing softly to +herself: + + "My heart is like a singing bird, + Whose nest is in a watered shoot; + My heart is like an apple-tree, + Whose boughs are bent with sweetest fruit; + My heart is like a rainbow shell, + That paddles in a halcyon sea; + My heart is gladder than all these, + Because my love has come to me." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MACRAE LEARNS A HARD LESSON + + "What though it be the last time we shall meet, + Raise your white brow and wreath of golden hair, + And fill with music sweet the summer air, + Not this again shall draw me to your feet, + Peace, let me go." + + +Joyful or sorrowful, the days go by. With what passes in the soul and +heart the hours meddle not, but over our physical life they are +relentless masters. No matter how full of trouble the heart is, we must +enter common life, must have dry eyes and take part in conversation; for +the moment we differ from everyone else everyone is surprised. The meals +are to be cooked, the parlor swept, callers are to be received, and +calls are to be made, and we must dress the body decorously for dinner, +though the heart and soul be sitting in sackcloth. Such experiences are +very costly; we pay for them with wearisome days and wakeful nights, +with wasted energies and lost illusions. + +Mrs. Caird lifted the life emptied of Donald with the serenity and +cheerfulness of her fine nature. She thought of him, and talked of him, +and watched for the letters that were sure to come to her, constantly +reminding herself how interesting they were certain to be and how glad +she was that her boy was having the dew of his youth. + +Marion felt the wrench of events more keenly. To the young everything +that comes to an end is the end of the world. No one can be so hopeless +as the young. It is the middle-aged and the old that have the power of +hoping on through everything, for they have come to the knowledge that +the soul survives all its disappointments and all its calamities. This +is the good wine God keeps for our latter days. Marion rallied as soon +as she received Richard's first letter from his ship; for it is the +sorrow not sure which we feel to be unbearable. That letter enabled her +to locate her lover, and, though the halo of distance and the mystery of +night travel were around him, her soul sought him out and found in the +romance of the situation some balm for her anxiety not without value. +For the young like to believe that their trials are not common trials, +and Marion knew of no girl whose lover had been torn from her side and +sent off to India for nearly two years without notice or preparation for +such an exile. The lovers of all her friends had been acceptable to +their parents, but her lover's proposal had been met by almost insolent +refusal and threat. And he was of ancient and noble lineage, and she +was certain none of the girls in the Church of the Disciples had ever +had a lord for a lover. She felt then that her grief was a very romantic +one, and when grief can consider its romantic features it is not far +from comfort. + +Indeed, in a month the home affairs of the Minister's house had their +settled regular observance. There had been happy letters from both +Richard and Donald, and there was the promise of a regular continuance +of this new element in their lives--an element of constant change and of +unusual events--conversations about letters received and sent--and the +looking forward to those journeying to them by day and night. These +things gave to their lives a sense of romance and of far-off happenings; +for our thoughts and conversation do affect our surroundings, just as +rain affects the atmosphere. + +It was not as well with the Minister as with his daughter and +sister-in-law. To him the world had become a bewildering maze of sorrow +and perplexity. Until his son had gone he had not realized how dear +Donald was to him. Now his empty place at the table was a constant +shock, his voice haunted the house, and he was sometimes so positive +that he heard him going upstairs, whistling "Listen to the Mocking +Bird," that he silently opened his study door to look and listen. And +though Marion had quickly gone back with all her heart to his fatherly +love, though she sat with him and read to him and sang to him, he missed +his boy. Oh, how he missed him! + +Not often did he receive any comfort from Lady Cramer. Sometimes she +ignored his complaints, sometimes made light of them, generally she told +him that her love ought to more than balance all his other love losses. +But nothing that she said had a tone of reality, nothing was +positive--she was going to stay all winter in Paris, she was coming to +London at Christmas time, she was too sick to go out in one letter, and +the next letter was perhaps only a list of invitations to a variety of +houses and amusements received, but which she had neither accepted nor +declined. + +Yet he loved her with a passionate affection, a love full grown in that +one wonderful hour when she made manifest to his suddenly awakened heart +her own love for him. It is said that when love flames before it burns +it dies quickly; but Ian's love, flaming in a moment, had stood within +the past three months all the tests that a capricious, absent woman +could give it. As Christmas approached he was in a fever of expectation, +and he told himself that she would now return to London and redeem all +her promises to him. + +He had made no confidant of his love affair with Lady Cramer, and +passion lived long in him, just as fire that is covered lives long. But +Mrs. Caird read his story as clearly as if he had put it into words. And +she was sorry for him, for the man's life had been broken to pieces, and +nothing that had once seemed of great importance to him was now cared +for. One morning near Christmas he packed, with angry haste, all the +papers and books left to him by the late Lord Cramer, and sent them to +the care of the steward at Cramer Hall. Mrs. Caird watched the +proceeding, but she made no remark, and when the carrier came to take +them away she was equally silent. She heard Ian give him a few short, +sharp directions, after which he put some money into his hand and then +went directly to his study. + +It was a wretched day, the heavy fog shrouded all things and fused the +melancholy noises of the street into a dull rumble, while a soft +drizzling rain added to the general depression. Through the misty +windows Mrs. Caird watched the man carrying the box to the cart which +would convey it to the railroad station. It was a plain wood box, much +longer than it was wide, and in the dim gray light it looked very like a +coffin. At any rate, it reminded Mrs. Caird of one, and she said to +herself: "It is really a coffin. What wrecked Faith and dead Hopes! What +memories of a life that can never come back it carries away!" + +It left the feeling of a funeral with her, and the feeling haunted her +all the day long. Late in the afternoon she went to her room to rest a +while, and she fell asleep and dreamed that the long white box was full +of slain souls, and it cost her a strong physical effort--an effort like +that of removing her clothes--to throw off her mind the uncanny +influence it had established. + +Then she remembered that Marion was going to a dinner and dance at +Deacon Lockerby's, and she hastened to her room to see if she was +preparing for the event. She found Marion fully dressed, and the girl +rose, smiling, shook out her pink tarlatan gown, and asked, "Am I pretty +enough to-night, Aunt?" + +"Quite," was the answer. "I wish Richard could see you. Where did you +get that exquisite lace bertha?" + +"Father went to Campbell's and bought it for me this morning. I told him +last night that I wanted a bertha, but disliked to go out in the fog to +buy one, and Father said, 'I will go for you,' and I was so astonished +and pleased I let him do it." + +"You did right, but you know it is just like a man's purchase. I can see +your father walk up to a clerk and say, 'I want a bertha, so many +inches, good and pretty as you have'--no mention of its price." + +"It is very pretty." + +"Yes, and no doubt it cost ten times as much as a girl's bertha should +cost--but it was a good spending, and I dare say he had a lighter heart +as well as a lighter purse after it." + +"I know I was charmed by his goodness, and I told him so in half a dozen +ways, and, Aunt, at last--I kissed him. Yes, I really did. And Father +looked at me with tears in his eyes, and at that moment I could have +done anything he asked me to do." + +"I'll warrant you. Your father ought then to have----" + +"Please, Aunt, do not say the words on your lips. Nothing in life could +separate me from Richard, and you know it." + +"Well, well. Go and show yourself to your father, and be in a hurry. I +hear a carriage at the door. Will you have a cup of tea before you go?" + +"Aileen brought me one here. I want no more." + +They went to the door together, and as the vehicle drove away a youth +stepped through the fog, whistling merrily, + + "There's a good time coming, boys, + Wait a little longer." + +He made Mrs. Caird think of Donald, and she blessed him as he passed. +"I am not superstitious," she whispered, "not at all, but when a good +word comes to me I am going to take it and be glad of its message." "A +good time coming"--to these words singing in her heart she went into the +parlor and tinkled the little silver bell, which was answered by Kitty +bringing in the teapot under its satin cozy. A few minutes afterward the +Minister entered. The table had been set for him and Mrs. Caird by the +parlor hearth, and he took his chair silently. Then they were alone, +and, as he lifted his cup, he casually lifted his eyes and met the love +and sorrow in Mrs. Caird's eyes, and there was a moment's swift +understanding between them. Dr. Macrae stretched out his long, lean +hand, and she clasped it and said, "Cheer up, Ian; things are never as +bad as you think they are." + +He smiled faintly and asked, "Where is Marion going?" + +"I thought she told you." + +"She did. I had forgotten. To James Lockerby's, I think she said." + +"Yes, his daughter is engaged to David Grant. It is her betrothal +party." + +There was a moment's pause, then she continued: "I met Thomas Reid +to-day on Buchanan Street. He told me that the city intended nominating +him for Parliament." + +"Him!" + +"Yes. He said it was a great prospect, requiring extra diligence in +business and very punctual observance of church ordinances." + +"Had the city of Glasgow no better man to send to Parliament than Thomas +Reid--although Reid is a clever man--unquestionably so." + +"He has at least _survived_, and that is _the_ cleverness, according to +Darwin. He sent Marion a message, but I have not given it to her." + +"What had he to say to Marion?" + +"He asked me to remind her of the opportunities she had thrown away. He +said if he was sent to Parliament he should take all his family to +London for the season, and that then Marion might have stepped into a +circle above her own--the very best society, of course, being open to a +woman with a father in Parliament." + +"What answer did you make, Jessy?" + +"My words were ready. I was intensely angry at his inclusion of Marion +in 'his family,' and still more angry at his appropriation of the title +of 'father' in any shape to my niece, and I answered haughtily: 'Sir, on +her twenty-first birthday Miss Macrae will become the wife of Lord +Richard Cramer. He was in Her Majesty's Household before his father's +death, and on his return from India will probably resume his duties at +St. James's Palace. That will give Miss Macrae entrance into the royal +circle. There is no higher one.'" + +"You said well, Jessy. And I am glad you were able to give the cocksure +insolence of the purse-proud creature such a perfect rebuff. Did he say +anything further?" + +"For a moment he was astonished and mortified, but he quickly rallied, +and said, with a queer little laugh, 'That is a great exaltation for the +young lady. Just keep her head level by reminding her that there's many +a slip between the cup and the lip.' Then I said, 'Good morning, sir.'" + +After a few moments' silence Mrs. Caird continued in a tentative manner, +as if reminding herself of the circumstance, "There was a long letter +from Donald this morning." + +A sudden interest came into Dr. Macrae's face, though his listless voice +did not show it; however, Mrs. Caird was watching his face, not his +voice, and she was not astonished when he asked: + +"Where is he? Has he reached America?" + +"Oh, no! He is in London at present. He escorted Lady Cramer from Paris +to London two days ago." + +"Lady Cramer?" + +"She requested him to do so." + +"What was Donald doing in Paris?" + +"When he first left Glasgow he went to Paris to see his friend, Matthew +Ballantyne. Matthew had gone to Rome, and he followed him there, and he +has been studying with Matthew's Roman master until Christmas drew near. +Then he resolved to spend his Christmas in England and leave for New +York at the beginning and not at the end of the year. In Paris he met +Lady Cramer in the foyer of the Grand Opera House, and she induced him +to stay with her, and to finally convey her to the Cramer House in +London. It looks like kindness in Lady Cramer, but Donald is an +extraordinarily handsome man, and women like her want such in their +train." + +"Like her! What do you mean, Jessy?" + +"Oh, gay, flirting women, who count men's broken hearts and hopes very +ornamental to themselves. As like as not she will be making eyes at +Donald. I wish he was out of her seductions and safe on the Atlantic." + +"If my advice had been taken, he would now be safe in the hallowed halls +of St. Andrews. How can he afford such carryings on? They cost money." + +"Donald will never want money while I live; forbye, the violin in his +hand is a sure fortune." + +"Was it not Izaak Walton who said that God had given to some men +intelligence and to others the art of playing on the fiddle?" + +"Let me tell you, Ian, a man could not play the fiddle without +intelligence. My goodness! he requires brains to his fingers' ends to +play as Donald plays. But Izaak Walton is right in one thing--Donald's +gift is the gift of God, and every gift of God is good if used for +innocent purpose. For myself, I am real glad that Donald's gift was +music. There will be music in heaven, but there is no mention of +preaching there; no matter how many play and sing in a household, if +they do it well, there are never too many; but one preacher is enough in +any family." + +"Do not be angry, Jessy. It was but a passing remark--blame Izaak Walton +for it--if it was he." + +"I have no doubt it was he. The remark is just what you would expect +from a man who could spend day after day and year after year putting +hooks through the throats of fishes only weighing a pound or two. I +think he would need few brains for that vocation. The silly body with +his fishing rod! I wonder at sensible people quoting anything he says." + +Dr. Macrae laughed a little, silent laugh which did not brighten his sad +face, and then asked, "What time will Marion be home?" + +"After midnight; you would do right if you went for her." + +"Then I will go. You need have no fear, Jessy. I will be at Lockerby's +before midnight." + +"Marion will be pleased, and the Lockerbys will take it as a great +honor. Speak kindly to the young people; you will make them your friends +forever." + +"Jessy, something has come between me and my people, something that +dashes and interferes. It has grown up lately." + +"It is yourself, Ian. You are different. Your countenance used to be +steadfast and hopeful, your voice strong and sincere, your simple +presence encouraging. Your face is now troubled, your voice indifferent, +your presence has lost much of that sympathy which binds one heart to +another." + +"My congregation, Jessy, is too material to be moved by anything but +spoken words or positive actions." + +"Unconsciously your face--so dark and pathetic--moves them. The immortal +Dweller, in molding its home, uses only the material you give it. So the +sense of desolation, which has been stirred in you by the writings of +Darwin, Schopenhauer, Comte and others, is visible on your countenance; +and your people look on you and catch your spirit, even as we look over +an infected country and catch its malaria." + +Dr. Macrae shook his head in desponding denial, and Mrs. Caird +continued: "What has Kant's 'Thing in Itself,' or Hegel's 'Absolute,' or +Pascal's 'Abysom,' or Renan's 'Scepticism,' or Spencer's 'Agnosticism' +given you? O Ian, what are they but words empty of help or meaning to +souls who have lost their faith in God. Listen to this," she cried, as, +moving swiftly to a small hanging bookcase, she took from it a slim +volume, "a man like yourself, Ian, fighting his doubts and fears and sad +forecastings, wrote them;" and her eager face and intense sympathy made +him bend his head in acquiescence. They were standing together in the +center of the parlor floor, and Dr. Macrae was anxious to be alone and +consider the news he had just received about Lady Cramer and his son, +but he found something promising in his sister-in-law's words, and he +stood expectantly watching her strong, sweet face as she spoke, or God +in her spoke, these lines: + + "Away, haunt thou not me, + Thou vain Philosophy. + Little hast thou bestead, + Save to perplex the head, + And leave the Spirit dead. + Unto thy broken cisterns wherefore go? + While from the secret treasure depths below, + Wisdom and Peace and Power + Are welling forth incessantly. + Why labor at the dull mechanic oar + When the fresh breeze is blowing, + And the strong current flowing, + Right onward to the Eternal Shore?" + +"Whosoever wrote those lines, Jessy, had lain with me in the dungeons of +Doubting Castle." + +"Arthur Hugh Clough, an English clergyman, wrote them. His feet +well-nigh slipped, but he constantly struggled to hold fast the skirts +of Faith, and bid himself remember that in the Christ creed + + "The souls of near two thousand years + Have laid up here their toils and fears; + And all the earnings of their pain. + Ah, yet consider it again!" + +"Let me have the book, Jessy," and he stood a few minutes looking at it. +What Mrs. Caird was saying he heard not, his eyes had fallen upon a few +lines describing the Christ creed: + + "With its humiliations combining + Exaltations sublime, and yet diviner abasements, + Aspirations from something most shameful here upon earth, and + In our poor selves, to something most perfect above in the heavens." + +"I do not care for poetry, Jessy, but this book appears to reveal a +soul. I will take it to my room; it may have something to say to me." + +But Dr. Macrae did not read any book that night. To sit still with +closed eyes and consider what this sudden association of Lady Cramer and +his son might mean was the most urgent of his desires. Until near +midnight he thought over the circumstance in every possible way, coming +finally to the conclusion that Lady Cramer's attentions to Donald were +a most delicate revelation of her love for himself; and this conviction +brought instantly an acute longing for her presence. He felt that he +must reach London as soon as it was possible. For some weeks he had +anticipated this visit and made the necessary preparations for it. The +finest clothing was ready to put into his valise, and there was little +to do except to secure a minister to supply his pulpit for one Sabbath. +This was easily accomplished, and on a fine, bright Monday morning he +took a very early train southward. + +"I am sure," said Marion, "Father has taken this journey purposely to +see Donald again. It is so good of him, and I do hope Donald will treat +him properly." + +"Nonsense!" answered Mrs. Caird. "Your father has gone to London to see +Lady Cramer." + +"Aunt, he told me he hoped Donald would be in London; he said he wished +to see him." + +"Then why did he not start for London at once?" + +"He thought Donald would be delayed and detained by Lady Cramer. I +thought so also. She liked to have young men waiting upon her. She +always found them plenty to do. Father wanted to see Donald again." + +"If your father wants anything, it is not his way to wait three or four +days for it." + +"Anyway, I do not believe my father and Lady Cramer are in love with +each other. It is not likely." + +"Do you think Richard and yourself have captured all the love in the +world? Your father is a very handsome man and Lady Cramer is a beautiful +woman. Why should they not be in love with each other?" + +"They are so old, Aunt." + +"Richard is not what I would call a young man. He will be thirty-five +years old." + +"Oh, no! He is thirty, and he has never been married. I am his first +love. He told me so, many times he told me so." + +"That is no wonder. All men say such things. Their words stand for just +what you take them at. When I was a girl we used to sing a duet in which +the soprano declared she had heard of a land where every man was true, +where the women issued all orders, and the men did as they were told to +do, and + + 'All was sweet serenity, + And life a long devotion.' + +Then the contralto expressed her longing for such a land, her +willingness to go to it at once, and asked, 'How am I to get there?' +Upon which a young man in the room appointed to give the information +sang out melodiously, + + 'Go _straight_ down the crooked lane, + And _all around_ the Square?" + +Then both laughed, and Marion said, "Well, Aunt, as no one could go +straight down a crooked lane, or all around a square, no one can find +that happy land of your girlhood. I will go and write to Richard now, +and tell him about the song, and about Father going to London." + +"And do not forget to name Donald's care of his stepmother from Paris to +London." + +"I will tell Richard that also. I had forgotten the circumstance." + +"Everyone forgets Donald." + +And Marion, tired of assuring her aunt that Donald was not forgotten, +answered carelessly, "Yes, they seem to do so. I wonder why?" + +"Because Donald is not requiring their thoughts. Donald can think for +himself; he knows what he wants, and he takes what he wants, and so he +is well served." She was leaving the room as she spoke, and she closed +the door emphatically enough to enforce her opinion. + +In the meantime Dr. Macrae was going southward. In spite of the +philosophies with which he had saturated himself, he had yet in his +nature primitive traits which ruled him--often foolish ones--but so +natural and spontaneous that they were actually dear to him. And among +these relics of ancient feeling was the pleasure of giving surprises. +All the way to London he was telling himself: "How happy Ada will be! +How surprised she will be to see me! I shall walk unexpectedly into her +parlor, and see the love and joy and astonishment light up her beautiful +face as I approach her! That moment will pay for all--for all!" + +He lived in the consideration of that moment all the way to the great +city; but it was dark when he arrived there, and he was tired and +hungry, and quite eager for whatever comfort the old Charing Cross +hostelry could give him. About eight o'clock, however, he was thoroughly +refreshed, and he called a cab and was driven to Lady Cramer's +residence. It was fairly well lighted, and he judged her, therefore, to +be at home. So he dismissed the cab and then walked slowly up and down +before the house for a few minutes. As he was thus steadying himself for +his eagerly desired happiness a carriage drove up to the house, and +immediately afterward Lady Cramer, attended by a tall, middle-aged +gentleman, entered it; and they were driven rapidly away. Dr. Macrae was +by no means a shy man, but love unnerves the bravest when its +environments are strange and uncertain; and he actually allowed Lady +Cramer and her companion to drive away without any effort to arrest +attention. In fact, he realized that he had stepped backward, and this +cowardice made him both angry and ashamed. + +"Why did I not cry halt! Why did I not call her? Why did I let that man +carry her off when I was not more than an arm's length from her?" And +the inner man answered, "You could have stepped to her side, laid your +hand upon her shoulder, and whispered, 'Ada!' in her ear. You had all +the moments necessary. You were too cowardly to take your opportunity." + +For nearly an hour he walked up and down before the house, letting the +poor ape, jealousy, mingle with all his nobler love thoughts; then he +noticed that the lights had been much lowered, and he rang the bell and +asked for Lady Cramer. + +"My Lady has gone to the play," was the answer. + +"At what hour will she return?" + +"It will be very late, sir. There is a supper and dance at Lady +Saville's after the play, sir." + +Then Dr. Macrae put a crown into the man's hand and asked to what +theater Lady Cramer had gone, and, having received this information, he +followed her there. + +"Her Majesty's Theatre." + +Was it conceivable that Dr. Ian Macrae had given such an order? A few +months previously he had said to a large congregation in relation to the +theater, "My feet have never crossed the unhallowed threshold." And he +had made this declaration with what he considered a justifiable +spiritual satisfaction. Would he now transgress a law of his whole life? +Alas! at this hour life meant Lady Adalaide Cramer and to follow her, +see her face, and consider her companion was an urgency he could not +control--had indeed no desire to control. + +He bought a ticket in the pit and looked around. Lady Cramer was not +present, but several boxes were empty, and in a few minutes he saw her +enter one of them. She was the center of a gay party and the most +beautiful woman in it. His ticket, bought at random, had placed him in +an excellent position for seeing the play he had come to see, and it was +hardly likely Lady Cramer would let her eyes fall on anyone beneath the +seats where the nobility sat. + +Dr. Macrae looked at the lady of his hopes first. She had improved +marvelously, she was radiantly beautiful and dressed in some magnificent +manner beyond his power to itemize; yet he felt with a thrill of +idolatrous passion the total effect of the combination. And he kept +telling himself: "She is mine! And I will not suffer any other man to +parade himself in her beauty! I will remain in London until we are +married." + +Then he looked at the man who was parading himself in her beauty, and +had a swift, sharp pang of jealousy. He was about fifty years of age, +one of those large, blond, well-groomed Englishmen who represent the +imperial race at its best. There were two other ladies, a young naval +officer and a well-known diplomat in the box, but Dr. Macrae took no +note of them, though it interested him to see how cleverly Lady Cramer +used them in order to exhibit the little airs and graces which +diversified her gay or sentimental coquetries. + +That Dr. Macrae should enter a theater was not the only wonder of that +night. The play happened to be "Julius Cæsar," and he soon became +enthralled with the large splendor of its old Roman life. He neither +heard nor saw one thing that he could disapprove; and he said to +himself, almost angrily, that it was wrong to prevent the happiness +which hundreds of thousands might receive from such an entertainment if +a mistaken public opinion did not prevent it. And, though this decision +was only rendered mentally, he felt in its rendering all the ministerial +intolerance of one who is deciding _ex cathedra_ a point of great moral +importance. The end of the performance found him in the foyer, watching +for Lady Cramer's appearance. He had not long to wait. She came forward, +leaning on the arm of her escort, and looking, as Dr. Macrae thought, +divinely beautiful. He went straight to her. His step was rapid, his +manner erect, even haughty, and, touching her hand gently, he said, +with ill-concealed emotion: + +"Ada!" + +She started and answered, "Why, Doctor Macrae! Is it possible? In a +theater, too! Oh, it is incredible!" + +"I came to see you, not the play." + +"To-night I am going to a supper and dance at Lady Saville's. Come to +breakfast with me--nine o'clock. See, we are delaying people behind +us--excuse me----" And as she went hurriedly forward she called back +with a smile, "Breakfast--nine o'clock." + +He was so summarily dismissed that he could not answer; then the waiting +crowd made him feel their impatience, and with a sense of humiliation he +went rapidly into the gloomy street. What had happened to him? All his +spirit, all his pride and enthusiasm had vanished. Ada also had +vanished, the play was over, and he had been told to wait until morning. + +He passed the night in a fever of passionate contradictions. He blamed +Ada in words which he had never used in all his life before, he praised +her in words equally extravagant and unusual, and he had pangs of such +cruel suffering, and thrills of such exquisite love and longing, as made +him understand that it is through the mind, and not the body, that the +greatest misery and the most enthralling happiness are experienced. + +But, joyful or sorrowful, he never thought of prayer. If he had, there +was his visit to the theater to be explained, and at the bottom of his +soul's crucible there was yet a residuum of doubt on that score. +Besides, the theater was only a detail; the real trouble was the woman. + +About four o'clock he fell into a sleep so deep that it was far below +the tide of dreams, and when he awakened he had barely time to prepare +himself for his early visit. However, the rest had refreshed him, and +when he left his hotel for Lady Cramer's residence there was not in all +London a man of greater physical beauty or more aristocratic bearing. He +was aware of this fact, and he smiled faintly as he looked in the +mirror, and thought a little contemptuously of any rival he might have. + +Like a true lover, he outran the clock, and reached his tryst some +minutes before the appointed hour. He found Lady Cramer waiting for him. +With beaming face and extended hands she came to meet him, and he forgot +in a moment every word of reproof he had prepared for her. A delicate +breakfast was laid on a table drawn to the hearth of her private parlor, +and when she took her place, and made him draw his chair close to her +own, the cup of his happiness was brimmed. Never before had she seemed +so beautiful and so desirable. Her hair was loosely dressed, and the +open sleeves of her violet silk gown showed the perfection of her hands +and arms without rings or ornaments of any kind but the threadlike band +of gold on her marriage finger. That ring he meant to remove and replace +with one bearing his own and Ada's initials, and, at any rate, it was +but an empty symbol, a dead pledge. + +He did not waste these happy hours in explanations, but spent every +moment in wooing her with all the fervor and passion of his manhood, and +in winning again those tender marks of her favor which had really made +her fly from his influence before. He entreated her to marry him at +once--to-morrow--to-day--and he declared he would not leave London +unless she went with him. + +At this point she made a firm stand. "Marriage is an impossibility just +yet," she answered; and, when pressed for any reason making it so, +replied, "I must see how the affair between Richard and Marion ends +before I entangle myself;" and, while she was making this excuse, there +was the sound of a man's deep, authoritative voice in the hall, and the +next moment he entered the room, full of his own eager pleasure, or at +least feigning to be so. He pretended not to see Dr. Macrae, but cried +out hurriedly: + +"Ada! Ada! The horses are at the door. It is such a lovely morning. Come +for a gallop. Quick, my dear!" + +"Duke, you do not see my friend. Let me introduce you to Dr. Ian Macrae, +the most eminent of our Scotch ministers." + +"Glad to meet you, Doctor. Glad to see Ada--Lady Cramer--has such a wise +friend. Kindly advise her, sir, to take her morning gallop--her +physician considers it imperative. I have left all my affairs to take +care of her, and I hope you will advise her to obey orders. Run away and +put on your habit, Ada. The animals are restive and Simpson is holding +both." + +Ada looked at Ian and smiled, and what could Ian do? He was not a good +rider. He had never escorted a lady on horseback in a public park; he +knew nothing of the rites and regulations of that duty. It was better to +give place than to render himself ridiculous. So he bowed gravely, and, +turning to Ada, said: + +"I advise you to take your morning ride, Lady Cramer. I can see you +afterward." + +"Come in to dinner, then, Doctor, and let us have our talk out about my +stepson." + +"It will not be convenient," and with these words he retired. + +"A remarkably handsome, aristocratic man," said the Duke. "Make some +haste, Ada, or we may miss the sunshine." + +And as Lady Cramer ascended to her dressing-room she sighed sorrowfully, +"I have missed it." + +During this scene the Minister had preserved a noble and rather +indifferent manner, and he left the room while she was hesitating about +her ride. But oh, what a storm of slighted and disappointed love raged +within him! Through the busy streets, forlorn and utterly miserable, he +wandered slowly, careless of the crowd and the cold, and only thinking +of the pitiless strait he had been compelled to face. He knew no one in +London but Lady Cramer, and he felt as deserted and abandoned as a +wandering bird cast out of a nest. + +There is no waste land of the heart so dreary as that left by love which +has deserted us. This is the vacant place we water with the bitterest +tears, and, even in the cold, crowded London streets, his melancholy +eyes and miserable face attracted attention. Men who had trod the same +sorrowful road knew instinctively that some troubler of the other sex +had been the maker of it. + +He went back to his hotel and wondered what he should do with himself. +He had intended to spend the hours not spent with Lady Cramer in the +British Museum. He could not now do so. He preferred to sit still in his +room and try to discover the truth concerning the position in which he +so unexpectedly found himself. He had firmly believed in the love of +Lady Cramer, he had regarded her only one hour previously as his own, +and talked with her of their marriage. And she had apparently been as +happy as himself in that prospect. + +Yet the mere advent of Rotherham had changed her attitude, and he had +felt at once that his presence was an inconvenience. More than this, in +some way too subtle to analyze he had been intensely mortified by her +changed manner, and by her reference to Richard and Marion, as if their +love affair accounted for his presence in her household--the more so as +they had not spoken of the young people at all that morning. He did not +feel that it was at all necessary to invent an excuse for asking him to +dine with her. + +So it was in an intense sense of mortification that his wounded feelings +expressed themselves, and it was an entirely new experience to him. +Throughout all the years of his manhood he had been praised and honored, +served with the greatest consideration, and almost implicitly obeyed. He +had never been in any society he considered more noble or more +distinguished than his own. Yet undoubtedly Lady Cramer had been ashamed +of his presence. He recalled the expressions on her face, the tones of +real or pretended boredom in her voice, all the pretty coquetries of her +eyes and hands, and all her graceful efforts to bewitch the Duke, and +with a scornful laugh muttered, "She thought I did not understand her +double game. She thought me a fool, and made a plaything of my love." +And then he uttered some words which a minister should not use, and +which a woman does not care to write. + +Now, mortified feeling becomes hatred in passionate natures, and +ridicule or scorn in cold natures. It tended to hatred with Ian. He had +been so long accustomed to adulation and reverence that he could not +endure the memory of the covert slights he had felt compelled to ignore. +And it was not long ere he became furious at himself for not boldly +taking his position as Lady Cramer's future husband. He told himself +that, even if there had been a scene there and then, a man would have +been present, and to him he could have made explanations, but now what +could he do but suffer? + +For hours he tormented and humiliated himself with the certainty that +Lady Cramer was ashamed of condescending to his love, and that she had +represented their acquaintance as arising from a necessary interference +between her stepson and the minister's daughter. He knew exactly how she +would represent the subject; he could tell almost the words she would +use, and this mean, underhanded denial of himself hurt every nerve of +his consciousness like a physical wound. Indeed, the suffering was +greater, for a man may forgive a thrust from a sword, but a slap in the +face! No! And Lady Cramer's treatment of her betrothed lover had been a +decided slap in the face. He told himself passionately that he would +never forgive it. + +With this mortifying experience he sat until daylight waned, then he +went to the office and asked if there were any letters for him. There +was one from Marion, which he laid aside; there was none from Lady +Cramer. Then his aching disappointment revealed to him that, in spite of +his anger, he had been expecting a propitiating note, and perhaps a +renewal of her invitation to dinner. For in this early stage of his +wrath all his despairing thoughts were peopled with the phantoms of his +love and his desires. + +But there was no letter, and when he had dined alone he had arrived at +that point of impatience which can no longer be satisfied with hoping or +believing--he insisted on seeing. So he went to Lady Cramer's house and +found it in semidarkness; consequently she was out. The obliging porter +informed him, in return for a crown piece, that his lady had gone to the +theater with the Duke of Rotherham, and Ian quickly followed her there. +The play was in progress, but the man who had seated him previously came +smilingly to take his ticket. + +"Never mind the location," said Ian; "put me where I can see Lady Cramer +and not be seen." + +"A box on a higher tier would be the best." + +"Then take me there." + +"It will be five shillings more." + +"Here is a sovereign. Give me a good location and keep the change." + +He got all he desired, and for two hours fed the fire in his heart +through the sad, tearless avenues of his eyes. Only the Duke was with +her. He was in full dress, with all his ribboned orders on his breast; +she was robed in pale amber satin and glittering with diamonds. The +house was very full, the entertainment mirth-provoking, and there was a +great deal of sweet, sensuous music. He did not hear anything either +sung or spoken, for all his life was in his eyes, and what they saw +burned the word _unattainable_ on all his hopes. He left the theater +before the performance was finished; he did not wish to meet his false +mistress until he was quite sure of his decision. When he thought he was +so he lifted his valise and packed it. He had resolved to see her once +more and then return to Glasgow. His manner was then haughty and quiet, +and his face looked as if carven out of steel, so cold and clear-cut +were its features, so hard and implacable the resolve written on them. + +In the morning he went to Lady Cramer's house, and was readily admitted. +She was rather glad of his visit, for she by no means realized her +offense nor her lover's indignation at it. Indeed, when he entered the +parlor she rose with a little cry of pleasure, and, with both hands +extended, hurried to meet him. + +"O Ian! Ian! How glad I am to see you!" she cried. "I have just written +to you--why did you not come again yesterday?" + +He had advanced to about the middle of the room, and he stood there, +stern and inflexible, until she was near to him. Then he raised his +hands, palms outward, and said: "Stand where you are, Ada. I do not wish +you to touch me. You are the most false of all women. I have come to +give you back your worthless promise. I do not value it any longer." + +"Ian! Ian! What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I know you are going to marry that old Duke--going to sell +yourself once more." + +"Oh, indeed," she answered, "if my marriage is a sale, I prefer to be +sold for a dukedom than a Free Kirk pulpit. And, if you have come here +to be insolent, understand that I do not care for anything you say." + +"Care a little for my farewell. I will never trouble you again. I give +you back your promise." + +"Thank you! If you had been brave enough to insist on my keeping it, I +might have done so. You are a very indifferent lover. Twice over Duke +Rotherham drove you away, just because he was a duke." + +"You are mistaken. I set you free because you are utterly deceitful. I +hate deceit. I love you no longer." + +"You are deceiving yourself. You can never cease to love me." + +"I love you not. I have ceased already." + +"Indeed, sir, in the matter of love you leave off loving when you can, +not when you wish." + +"A burnt-out fire cannot be rekindled; you are dead to me." + +"I shall live in your memory." + +"I have buried you below memory, and, for the graves of the heart, there +is no resurrection." + +"Do not quarrel with me, Ian. I did love you! I did intend to marry +you!" + +"You are a beautiful woman, but you are only a face without a heart. It +would have been a good thing for you to have become my wife. I should +have taught you how to love." + +With a little mocking laugh she answered: "It might have been a good +thing to be your wife, but oh, what happiness it is not to be your wife! +You have much learning, sir, but you do not know the way to a woman's +heart." Then she slipped from her finger the ring he had given her and +let it fall to her feet. + +"I take back my promise, Ian. Take back your ring. Farewell!" and, with +head proudly lifted, she passed him. At the door she turned, and he was +just lifting the ring. "Ah!" she cried, "the diamonds are pure enough +for you to touch, I see," and with a contemptuous laugh she closed the +door behind her. + +Her eyes were tearless, and there was a dubious smile around her mouth, +but her heart grew so still she thought something must have died there. +"Farewell, Ian!" she whispered, as she sank wearily on her bed. +"Farewell! You wanted too much. You made the great blunder of +confounding love-making with love. You took every trifle too seriously. +I thought I loved you, but what is love? I might have married you, if I +had not wanted to be a duchess. You might have spoiled that dream, and I +am glad you are gone. _Hi! Ho!_ I think I have managed very well." + +Really it was her gift of blindness to anyone's pleasure but her own +that at this time had kept her ignorant of danger until she had drifted +past it. If Ian had been more persistent, the end of the affair would +have been very different. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +WHEN WILL THE NIGHT BE PAST? + + "Alas! God Christ--along the weary lands, + What lone invisible Calvaries are set, + What drooping brows with dews of anguish wet, + What faint outspreading of unwilling hands, + Bound to a viewless cross with viewless bands. + While at the darkest hour what ghosts are met + Of ancient pain and bitter fond regret, + Till the new-risen spirit understands." + + +Doctor Macrae left London immediately after this interview, but he did +not at once return to Glasgow. He spent two days at Oxford and nearly a +week in the manufacturing towns of Yorkshire, the rest of his leisure in +the historic city of Newcastle. He was interested in what he saw, but +not comforted by it. For he was well aware that all his hopes had been +stripped to the nakedness of a dream. The week days trailed on the +ground and the Sabbaths made no effort to rise to the height of their +birth. For the spiritual center of his being had never yet been in touch +with the spiritual center in the universe, and all philosophies and all +creeds must come back to this sympathetic understanding between the +Comforter and the Comforted, or they come to nothing. + +Many years ago he had analyzed prayer by his creed, and felt that it had +nothing to do with troubles so personal and selfish as his love or his +hatred. For some wise purpose this discipline of wasted love had been +given him, and his duty was to bear his loss as manfully as he could. +There had once been a time when he would even have rejoiced to give up +any personal happiness if he thought that by doing so he was learning a +God-sent lesson. He could not do that now. He had been too long looking +_into_ the Deity instead of looking _up_ to Him. He had compelled +himself to question and to qualify until he knew not how to believe nor +yet what to believe. Poor soul! He thought prayer could be reasoned +about! Prayer, which is an unrevealed transaction, beyond the region of +the stars! + +At length, the time of his absence from duty being completed, he took a +train for Glasgow, arriving there early in the evening. It was raining +hard, it was dark, and the points of gas light only rendered the +darkness visible. The streets were crowded with men and women in +dripping coats, jostling each other with dripping umbrellas as they +hurried home after their day's work. + +In the quiet space of Bath Street the driver of his cab dropped his whip +and stopped in order to regain it; and in those moments Dr. Macrae +noticed a wretched looking man trying to get a few pennies by singing +"The Land of Our Birth." His voice was full of pain and tears, and +Macrae called him and put a shilling in his hand. The beggar's look of +amazement and gratitude was wonderful. He raised the coin as he took it, +and cried out, "_O God!_" and the look and the words fell on Macrae's +heart like a soft shower on a parched land. They called up one of those +tender smiles quite possible, and even natural, to his face, though far +too seldom seen there. In the light of this smile he reached his home, +and the next moment the door opened and Marion and Mrs. Caird stood +waiting with outstretched hands to greet him. + +He fell readily into their happy mood, and sat down between them to the +excellent tea waiting for him. And the blessing of the shilling was on +him, and he talked cheerfully of all that he had seen, but added as he +took his large easy-chair on the hearthrug, + + "East or West, Home is Best." + +Alas! this blessed mood did not last. In a few days he was again +brooding in a hell of his own making. He could not rest his heart on any +affection. Lady Cramer had deceived him, Donald had deserted him, Marion +was restlessly waiting for her lover's return. Then she also would go. +And Jessy Caird's heart was with Donald. He thought of these things +until he felt himself to be a very lonely, desolate man; for the heart +is like a vine, it withers and dies if it has nothing to embrace. + +In a deep and overwhelming sense he knew that to obey or to disobey duty +was to say "yes" or "no" to God, but what was his duty? He told himself +that if he could only see the way of duty clear he would take it, +however unpleasant or difficult it might be. Yes, he was sure of that. +But what was his duty? He tried to find out by every logical method +known to him, and every method pointed out some flaw in every other +method. + +One morning, at the end of January, Dr. Macrae received a batch of +London newspapers. They were brought to the breakfast table, and he +looked at their number and wondered. He did not seem to understand what +they portended, but Mrs. Caird did. Some womanly instinct told her what +information they brought, and when Macrae did not come to the dinner +table she said softly to Marion, "Lady Cramer is married. I wonder how +he will bear it." + +In the middle of the afternoon she took some coffee into the Minister's +study, and at his request sat down beside him. "Stay an hour with me, +Jessy," he said. "I am in trouble." + +"I know, Ian." + +"She is married." + +Jessy nodded slightly, and said: "I know. My dear Ian, you were but a +little child in the hands of Adalaide Cramer. Very likely she thought +she loved you." + +"I think she did love me." + +"Whom has she married?" + +"The Duke of Rotherham." + +"She had a great temptation, but no doubt she suffered in giving you up, +even for a dukedom." + +"She ought to suffer. I wish her to suffer." + +"Then you no longer love her?" + +"Loving is now out of the question, but I had, I thought, a great love +for her." + +"Had!" + +"Yes. I loved Ada until she contemplated making me a partner with her in +the sin of deceiving the man who was then--almost--her husband. After +that I had no hesitation in resigning her. I would not remain in +London--she was very lovable--I might--I think not--but I might----" + +"You acted as an honorable man must have done. Danger is an unknown +quantity until you meet it face to face, and in this danger you were +like a swimmer that only tips the tangles and does not know the depth of +the water below them. I am glad you had the courage to leave her. Let +her be dismissed even from your thoughts." + +"How should I dare to think of her after those London papers? The +Decalogue and Christ's words concerning its seventh law still stand with +me as a finality. I no longer love her. I am not even angry with her. +She was just the reef on which my life went down. An hour ago I buried +her." + +"Your life has not gone down. It ought to be more rich and buoyant for +this very experience. It will be." + +"Perhaps. Yet all life's pleasant things have suffered the same change +that Autumn works on the flowery braes of Spring, and I feel, + + 'My days are as the grass, + Swiftly my seasons pass, + And like the flower of the field I fade.'" + +Jessy waited a moment or two, and then replied, "I think, Ian, you might +be just and honorable to the poet. Why do you cut the verse in two? I +will give you the other three lines, as you seem to have forgotten them: + + 'O Soul, dost thou not see + The Wise have likened thee + To the most living creature that is made?'" + +"Living creature?" + +"Yes, in the Spring does the grass tarry for any man's help? It comes up +without tool, or seed, or labor. In the garden, the field, the +roadside, it comes, fresh and strong and heavenly green. Its withered +blades have a new life. Likewise certain portions of our lives change or +pass away, but something better for our coming years is given us." + +"My dear Jessy, how good are your words. Is there any poetry you do not +know?" + +"Men and women who have souls meet each other in good poetry. I have met +many a sweet soul there." + +"I must tell you, Jessy, that it is not the _Duchess of Rotherham_ but +the Church of the Disciples that is now troubling me. I dread every +Sabbath Day before me. I feel as if I could not--could not preach." + +"Do you think a woman's 'no' should change your life and your life's +work?" + +"It might do so." + +"It cannot. If there is no place open to a man but a pulpit, it is clear +God means him to preach--whether he wants to or not. I think little of +the men who are feared for the day they never saw. Bode good and you +will get good. That's a fact, Ian. + +"Jessy, I seem to have lost everything in one bad year--my love, my +children, my work, my friends. All are changed or gone. I feel poor. +Once I was rich, and knew it not." + +"You are not poor, Ian. The poor are those who have never lost anything. +You are not doing badly even now, and you are learning on very easy +terms the grand habit of doing without." + +"I am very miserable, Jessy, I know that." + +"You are deserving misery badly, or you would hardly punish yourself. +God is giving you blessings on every hand, and you do not even thank Him +for them." + +"Jessy Caird!" + +"I'm right, quite right. He took the great temptation of a heartless +beautiful woman out of your way. You could have thrown love and honor +and your very soul on that water, and got nothing back--through all the +years of your life--but sorrow and shame. Well, well, it is little +gratitude we give either God or angel for the _escapes_ they help us to +make. How often have we been in the net of some adverse circumstances, +and suddenly and quietly the net is broken and we escape. Then we are as +likely to grumble as to rejoice." + +"If it wasn't for the preaching----" + +"Ay, it is always 'something' if it is not 'somebody' that is to blame. +Not ourselves, of course! What do you think of making the best of what +you have, Ian? There was a wonderful letter from Donald yesterday. Ask +Marion about it." + +"I will take a walk as far as the cathedral. There is a painted window +in the crypt that is always delightful to me." + +"A painted window?" + +"Yes--representing Christ as a youth reading the Book of the Law." + +"You are a queer man, Ian Macrae. Your ideal of Christ has a papistical +leaning." + +"Nothing of the kind, Jessy. Nothing!" + +"The Roman idea is to represent the Redeemer of the World just a baby in +the Virgin's arms, or he is the victim on the Cross, or the dead God +being prepared for burial. How many paintings do you know representing +Christ as the Lord of Life and Death--the co-equal of the God +Everlasting? Indeed, if you do happen to find a painting of Christ as a +man among men, he is sure to be the least handsome and godlike of all +those surrounding him. And you can find comfort in the figure of a boy +reading the Book of the Law!" + +"Do you know the window?" + +"I do. The last time I saw it, Donald was with me. He liked it well. +There was a long letter from Donald yesterday." + +"I will now dress and take a walk." + +"It is raining hard." + +"Then I will only go as far as Blackie's, and look over his new books. +That is always interesting." + +"Don't go out, Ian. Sit with Marion. She has a letter she wants to read +to you." + +"Jessy, I am seeking the Truth. The search impels me--I cannot rest--I +can do nothing else but seek it--not for my life!" + +"Do you expect to find it in Blackie's bookshop?" + +"I know not where to find it." + +"It is lying there--at your right hand." + +He glanced down at his right hand, and saw the familiar old Bible of his +college days. The place-keeping ribbon was lying outside its pages, and +he lifted the Book and replaced the ribbon; then, with a feeling of +sorrowful tenderness, laid it, on a shelf of his bookcase. "My father +put it in my hands the morning I went first to St. Andrews," he said +softly, and then turned to Jessy, but she had left the room. + +With a strange smile of satisfaction he touched the inner breast pocket +of his long black vest, for in that pocket there lay a letter from +Donald which was all his own. It had come to him by the same mail which +brought Marion's, but some curious Scotch twist in his nature prompted +him to conceal the fact. The root of this secrecy was undoubtedly +selfishness. He did not want anyone else to see, or touch, or handle +it--it was all his own, as long as it lay unspoken of in his breast +wallet. There were things in it he could not bear to discuss--things +that appeared to actually deny all the results he had declared would be +the natural and certain consequences of Donald's disobedience and +irreligious tendencies. + +So he kept the letter in his breast and said nothing about it, and he +went to Blackie's bookshop and brought home in his hand a volume by +Mills with which he passed the long evening. Now and then he vouchsafed +a few remarks on passing events, but upon the whole he had reason to +congratulate himself upon his reticence and its success. + +Nevertheless, it had been less successful than he imagined, for, after +he had retired with Mr. Mills to the solitude of his study, Marion said, +with a sigh, "He never named Donald, Aunt;" and Mrs. Caird answered +sharply, "I am thinking, Marion, he knows all about Donald. He has had a +letter his own self. The man is far too curious to have kept whist if he +had not known what we were meaning by Donald's good fortune. No doubt +Donald wrote to him. I would hardly believe your father if he said +different." + +After this event the gloomy winter of snow and rain and thick fog +settled over the busy city, and people with firm-set lips and gloomy +faces went doggedly about their business and tried not to mind the +weather. But Dr. Macrae was acutely sensible to atmospheric conditions, +and the nearly constant gloom and drizzle was but the outward sign of +his mental and spiritual darkness and doubt. Day followed day in a +monotonous despairing search for what he could not find, and life lost +all its savor and searching all its hope and zest. + +Finally his health began to suffer. He found out what it meant to be +nervous and inadequate for duty. He became unreasonable or dourly +despondent, and every change was marked by moods and tempers that +affected the whole household. For the mind has malignant contagious +diseases, as well as the body, and the black silent sulk or the fretful +complaining in the study passed readily into every room of the gloomy +household. + +There are doubts that traverse the soul like a flash of lightning, +burning their way through it; there are others that come slowly, +insinuating themselves through a few careless words that somebody said +because they had a clever ring. Doubt came to Ian like a mailed warrior, +and met him, as _Apollyon_ met _Christian_, with defiant words and +straddling all over the way. What if there was no God? he asked +boldly--if blind forces, beyond his comprehension, controlled the world? +If life was only a semblance and mankind dreamers in it? What if the +heavens were empty? If there was no one to answer prayer? If Christ had +never risen? If the Word of God was _not_ the Word of God? + +Such questions are only of casual importance to the material man, but to +Ian they were the breath of his nostrils. He lived only to solve them, +and to pluck the Very Truth from the assertions and contradictions in +which it lay buried. By night and by day he was in the thick of this +storm, and was often so weary that he fell into long sleepy stupors. For +great griefs and anxieties have these respites from suffering, and it +was likely this very lethargy which overtook the Disciples in the +sorrowful Garden of Olives. And this spiritual warfare was not a thing +to be decided in a few days, or even weeks. Slowly, as the weary months +went on, it disintegrated the Higher Life, leaving the man acutely +intellectual, but without spiritual hope or comfort. It was mainly by +Mrs. Caird's pleadings and reasonings that he had even been kept at his +post in the Church of the Disciples. + +"What do you expect to gain by leaving your work, Ian?" she asked. "If +God should send a word to comfort you, it would doubtless come as it +came to the good men and prophets of old--when they were on the +threshing-floor, or among the flocks, or about their daily duties. You +can at least do as Dr. Scott does--keep faithfully your obligation to +the Presbytery, and, as a matter of professional honesty, preach good +Calvinistic sermons to those who desire them. It might be that while you +were helping and encouraging others the Divine Whisper would reach your +heart. At any rate, it is more likely to come to you in the stress and +duty of life than when you are thinking yourself into a stupor in that +haunted study of yours." + +"Haunted!" + +"Yes, Ian, haunted by doubts that gather strength by habit--and by +fears, that, like the needle, verge to the pole till they tremble and +tremble into certainty." + +And, though Ian had declared that he never could or would preach as a +mere professional duty, he found himself obliged to do so. It was +necessary to have a reason for his sermons, for without a reason he +could neither write nor preach them; and he found in the faithful +fulfillment of his ministerial vows the only substitute for that fervent +zeal which had once touched his lips as with a live coal from the altar. + +Indeed, many of the oldest sitters in the Church of the Disciples said +that he had never before preached such powerful and unanswerable +Calvinistic sermons--sermons that "crumpled up sinners spiritually" +until the business obligations of Monday morning restored their +elasticity. And though Mrs. Caird knew well that the passion and fiery +denunciation of these sermons came out of the misery and the +ill-conditioned temperament of the preacher, she approved his +eloquence. With a sort of satisfaction she said to herself, "If these +people like the God John Calvin made, I am glad that Ian shows Him to +them--'predestinating from all eternity, one part of mankind to +everlasting happiness and another to endless misery, and led to make +this distinction by no other motive than his own good pleasure and free +will.'" + +To Ian she said, "Your people can make no mistake about the kind of God +they have to meet, and I am glad that lately you have been bringing your +sermons to the counter and the hearthstone. You began your sermon +to-day, as I think Christ must often have done, '_What man among you_.' +Men like to be appealed to, even if they have to admit they are wrong." + +"I thought I might be too severe--when I consider it was a sinner +correcting sin. But, Jessy, it is such blind, weary work, preaching what +I do not believe." + +"You do believe it. You know well it is the only Scripture for the dour, +proud, self-reliant souls who have accepted it. I wonder, indeed, if +they would respect a God who forgave his enemies, and who thought rich +men would hardly win their way into the kingdom of heaven. As for hell, +it is the necessary place for all who do not think as they do, or who in +any other way offend them." + +"_Oh, that I knew where to find him!_" cried Ian, and the passionate +sorrow and entreaty in the lifted eyes and hands filled Mrs. Caird with +a great pity, and she answered softly: + +"When you seek for God with all your heart and with all your soul, Ian, +you will find him." + +"Do I not seek for Him with all my heart? I do! I do!" + +Thus, in constantly soothing and strengthening the unhappy man, the +weary months passed slowly away. And during them Ian was deteriorating +both spiritually and physically, so much so that Mrs. Caird began to +wonder if he ought not to be relieved from the strain of living so +difficult a double life. Was there any necessity which would justify it? + +"And he ought to be so happy," she said one day to herself, with a sob +of something between anger and pity, "he ought to be constantly thanking +God about his children, and he can think of nothing but what he himself +wants, and that want a spiritual gift that few obtain. If he cannot +believe Christ and the multitudes who have done so and found it +sufficient, in whom, then, can he believe? There will be no special +dispensation for Ian Macrae, and he need not be looking for it." + +This fretful soliloquy took place nearly two years after the coming of +those miserable books of Lord Cramer's into Dr. Macrae's life. He read +others constantly which he hoped would nullify their power, but every +fresh scientific or theological writer had only made his doubts and +perplexities more and more confused and distressing; and it seemed at +last, even to Jessy Caird, that he ought to be released from playing a +part, which, however much good it did to others, was killing in its +personal effects. + +It was at this crisis he was walking one lovely Spring morning up +Buchanan Street, and met Major Macrae. They clasped hands with an +understanding smile, and the Major said, "I want an hour's talk with +you, Ian. It is important. Come home with me." So they went together to +Blytheswood Square, and into the little office at the back of the house, +and the Major said: + +"Ian, I am ready to recall Lord Cramer, and you will be glad to know +that his estate is now money-making and in good condition; and, as my +application for unlimited parole is not likely to be refused, there is +no reason for delaying my niece's marriage." + +"You must have great power with the War Office?" + +"I am the power behind the power. Also, it is the desire of the +Government that all noblemen should be on their estates. I have no doubt +Lord Cramer will receive what he desires." + +"He owed a large sum of money. Have you performed a miracle?" + +"No. I have only made available a much larger sum. Many years ago, while +riding with the late Lord, I noticed a peculiar appearance of the sea +among the little bays that wash the northern part of the estate. I +thought to myself, 'There is an oyster bed there,' but I said nothing, +for the late Lord was only too speculative, and I needed all his money +and all his interest at that time to get the property out of trouble. +When Lord Richard was in the same trouble I remembered my suspicions, +and sent half a dozen old oyster fishers to examine the situation. They +found immense beds of oysters, and now there is an oyster fishery +village there, and just one mile of railroad connects it with the line +to Edinburgh. And, man! there's your market all waiting and ready. There +never was such wonderful luck!" + +"But the village and the necessary materials, the boats and cottages, +the railroad and other requirements, must have cost a lot of money." + +"To be sure they have. I have put a lot into the development myself. Why +not? It will pay splendidly. Your future son-in-law will not only have a +steady flow of gold from his oyster beds, they will also supply him with +something to do and to look after. I have thought of that. I know it is +good for men to come constantly in contact with facts. It helps them to +keep their moral health. Tell Marion her lover may be home in three +months, and I hope, Ian, you will no longer oppose their marriage." + +"Marion can marry when she is twenty-one. Not until." + +"You cannot prevent the young from marrying. They will do it. Donald +tells me he is to be married on the fifth of December. I suppose you +know whom to?" + +"I know nothing about Donald, excepting that on the steamer to New York +he met a Scotchman called Macbeth, and that somehow they struck up a +friendship, and Donald was going with him to a place called Los Angeles. +He appears to be much older than Donald. I do not understand such +friendships, and, as I did not answer Donald's letter, he did not write +again--and I have heard nothing further." + +"I will tell you further, though you are not deserving the news--the why +and wherefore of the friendship between Donald and Mr. Macbeth was, +first of all, that they both played the violin and both loved it, and on +the voyage they turned the smoking-room into a concert room, for the +Captain played likewise, and he brought his violin there when he could. +The second thing was that everyone--men and women--were loving Donald, +and when they reached New York Macbeth would not part with the lad, and +they went together to Los Angeles, and then to his handsome home a few +miles from the city. There he had great vineyards and farms of figs and +lemons, and wonderful peaches and pears, and Donald has taken gladly and +happily to helping him in the making of wines and raisins and the drying +of fruit. The work is all out of doors in a climate like Paradise. In +the evenings they play their violins and sing Scotch songs, and are as +near heaven as they can be on earth." + +"You can't sing Scotch songs anywhere but in Scotland. They won't bear +transplanting any better than bell-heather. Fancy bell-heather in a +London park!" + +"Scotchmen are singing them all over _this_ world, and, for all I know, +all over _other_ worlds; but we are getting away from our subject, which +was my nephew, Donald Macrae. This Mr. Macbeth has a daughter, a +beautiful girl, not eighteen until the fifth of December. Then he will +give her to Donald with half a million dollars, which Donald will invest +in Macbeth's business, and so become his partner. The girl is lovely as +an angel. I have a picture of her. Do you want to see it?" + +"No." + +"And she has a beautiful name, and I'll just put it into your memory, +Ian. She is called Mercedes." + +"Spanish! Is she a Spaniard?" + +"Her mother was a California Spaniard of old and wealthy lineage." + +"A Roman Catholic, doubtless." + +"Of course. That goes without saying. It does not matter if she loves +God." + +"It matters anyway and everyway. It takes all the good out of the +circumstance. The girl was the devil's bait for the poor lad's soul." + +"Nonsense, Ian! One creed is as good as another. Creeds, indeed! +Religion has nothing to do with such outside details. God save us! What +kind of a head must a man have who could think so? I can tell you, Ian, +the belief in any creed stands in these days on the edge of a razor." + +"Then what have we left?" + +"We have Faith, man. Faith goes below creeds, straight to the +impassioned human hopes out of which creeds have grown. Faith in +spiritual matters is just what courage is in material life. _My word, +Ian!_ if you had only Faith, you would see some good in every creed." + +"Well, then, all creeds claim to come from the Bible." + +"There is no such thing as a creed or a system of Divinity in the +Book--nothing in it but human relations touched by the Spirit of God." + +"I am glad, however, to hear of Donald's good fortune." + +"It is wonderful. Every good gift of life put into his hand unsought. A +beautiful and wealthy wife, who loved him from the moment they met, and +a father-in-law who treats him already as a dearly beloved son." + +"Donald is not his son, however, and never can be. I am forever and ever +Donald Macrae's father." + +"A splendid home, a large and prosperous business, and the finest +climate outside of the Kingdom of Heaven. It is like a fairy tale," +continued the Major enthusiastically. + +Ian smiled, and said slowly, as if he could hardly remember the words he +wished to say, "You are right, + + 'It sounds like stories from the Land of Spirits, + If any one attain the thing he merits, + Or any merit that which he obtains.' + +I am glad to have heard such a romance." + +"Marion, or Mrs. Caird, could have told it to you, chapter by chapter, +as it was making." + +"And with what advices and entreaties!" + +"Words only. I never mind words. Ian, you are looking ill. What is the +matter with you? Is it the loss of that woman?" + +"The Duchess of Rotherham? No. I never allow myself to think of her. It +is a loss so transcendantly greater that there is not speech to define +the distance. _I have lost God!_" and he looked up with a face of such +desperate sorrow and patience as infected the heart of the older man +with uncontrollable pity. + +"O Ian! Ian!" he answered in a low, intense voice, "you cannot lose God, +and, if you could, He cannot lose you." + +"My father's brother![1] I have lost God, and the Devil----" + +[Footnote 1: Among Highlanders the name of the relationship expresses +more emotion than the baptismal name.] + +"Stop now. I disclaim for you and for myself all interest in the devil. +I deny him! I deny him! _Ach!_ I will not talk of him. If there be a +devil, he can talk for himself." + +"My God has left me. I know not where to find Him. I watch the day and +the night through for a whisper or a sign from Him. 'As the hart panteth +after the water brook, so panteth my soul for the living God.' To all my +pleading He is deaf and dumb. My heart would break, but He has made it +so hard that sometimes I can only pray for tears, lest I die of my +soul's thirst." + +"But this is dreadful, Ian, dreadful! Dear me! Dear me! What can I do?" + +"What do you do when, through faults all your own, you have lost the +sense of God's loving presence?" + +"I will tell you truly, Ian. I write down all my sins and shortcomings, +and then, kneeling humbly at His feet, I acknowledge them, and ask for +pardon. I wait a moment or two, and then I mark them out with the sign +of the [symbol: cross]. It cancels all, and generally I can feel this. +If I do not feel it, I know something is wrong, and the confession is to +make over again. It seems a childish thing for a man of sixty years old +to rely on, Ian, but it has kept me at His Pierced Feet all my life +long. If I had been a Roman Catholic--as the Macraes once all of them +were--I should have gone to my confessor and had the priest's +absolution; and I suppose it is some ancient feeling after the need and +the comfort of confession. For I have 'confessed' in this way ever since +I was a little lad, and I shall do so as long as I live. I have never +told anyone but you of my simple, solemn rite; but it is a very solemn +thing to me, however simple. Yes, it is. I speak the truth." + +"Thank you. It is sacred and secret with me. Tell me now what would you +do if you had to carry the burden Bunyan makes poor Christian carry +through the Slough of Despond every Sabbath. It is my unspeakable burden +to be compelled to preach. While I am preaching to others I am asking my +soul, 'Art thou not thyself become a castaway?' Life is too hard to +bear." + +"Yet it was small help or comfort you gave your congregation last +Sabbath." + +"I did not see you in Church." + +"I was there. It is indeed a very rare circumstance, but I was there, +and I heard you tell your hearers that, bad as this life was, the next +life would be much worse unless they lived a kind of righteousness +impossible to them. Why do people listen to such words? Why do you say +them? How do you dare to represent God as ordaining all things, yet +angry with the actions of the creatures whom He has created to disobey +His orders? And, since a man must sin by the very necessity of his +nature, why is he guilty of his sins? How can people bear such sermons?" + +"They do not feel them. No one takes them as for themselves. The +majority give all menaces to their neighbors. A great many do not +believe such doctrine any more than you do." + +"Then why do they go and hear it?" + +"Because in Glasgow, Uncle, the respectable element compel the scornful +to sit in the seat of the righteous. It is fashionable to go to church, +and the strictest sect is the most fashionable. Anything like +Armenianism or Methodism is democratic, and suitable only for the lower +classes--it is too emotional, and brings religion down to Ohs! and Ahs! +and to feelings that compel expression. There are various other reasons +not worth mentioning." + +"And you are permitting this false preaching of a false doctrine to kill +you?" + +"My trouble is far greater. Is there a God at all?" + +"Now, Ian, such a question as that never darkened any man's life who did +not go out of his way to seek it. Why did you meddle with those cloudy +German philosophies? Like Satan, they are one everlasting _No_! How +could you be influenced by them? I defy any metaphysician to argue me +out of the testimony of my soul and my senses. It is not the 'No!' but +the victorious 'Yes!' that life demands." + +Then Ian made some explanations, but without success. The Major laughed +scornfully at the names of his misleaders, and said, "I know all about +them that I want to know. I could not sleep if their books were under my +roof. _Imphm!_" he added with ejaculatory disdain. "You call their +ravings scientific religion and religious philosophy. _Rubbish_, +_rubbish_ is the exact term for them." + +"They have been widely read, sir." + +"Nonsense! The Scotch mind is far too logical to grasp an existence that +is non-existent; it sees no reality in what never happened, and you +cannot make it believe that 'Being and not Being' are identical facts. +It leaves all such ideas to those who live in that land + + 'Where Hegel found out, to his profit and fame, + That Something and Nothing were one and the same.' + +These two lines of a great critic were all I needed. I laughed heartily, +and sent all the philosophies I had to the Clyde. Sandy, who threw them +into it, said they went straight to the bottom. Ian, you are wandering +in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Are you quite alone? Have you lost +the Great Companion?" + +"Yes." + +"Then trust to the Man within you. No one can lose his soul who risks it +with his Higher Self. He will lead you to the One mighty to save. And go +and do your daily duty as you see it, and I am led to believe you will +require to begin in the house on Bath Street. _Dod, Man!_ I'm sorry for +the two poor women who have to live with you. You must be a very +uncomfortable, unsocial fellow to eat and to bide with." + +"I don't think so, Uncle. When I cannot eat it is kind to keep away from +the table; when I am unable to converse about the trivial things of +this life it is best for me to be silent. A man as full of sorrow as I +am----" + +"Fills the whole house with his worry and lamenting. Go home, and eat +with the two women you are treating so badly, and talk with them about +the people and the things that they love and care for. That you _can_ +do, and that you _must_ do." + +"They love and care for me." + +"I'm bound to say you don't deserve it, and that's a fact. Talk to them +of Donald and Lord Cramer, and talk hopefully and pleasantly. They will +be so grateful to you and so kind in return." + +"They are always kind to me." + +"Well, well! They just show that the grace of God and two women can live +with a man that no one else could live with. I met Marion last week in +the Arcade, and the little girl was miserable. She said you had scarcely +spoken a word for three days. It is not right. Go home and talk to +them." + +"How can I talk what seems foolishness to me?" + +"Try it. Foolishness has often turned out to be wisdom. There is what +Paul calls 'the foolishness of preaching.' What are you going to do +about that subject?" + +"What would you do, Uncle?" + +"I would preach the Truth, as I saw it and felt it, or--I would not +preach it at all." + +"Jessy Caird thinks that, until Marion is married, everything should +remain as it is. Then! Then I will seek God until I find Him, or die +seeking." + +"Just so! I have noticed that few things give a man more satisfaction +than a resolve to do better at some future time. As for Marion's +marriage, I can't see what influence your preaching or not preaching can +have on that circumstance. She will not be married in the Church of the +Disciples, and of course you cannot marry her." + +"Marion will be married in my church and I shall marry her. It will be a +great trial, but I shall not shirk it." + +"Lord Cramer will insist on being married in St. Mary's Church, and by +the Episcopal ritual. You would not be permitted to perform any service +in St. Mary's unless you had taken Episcopal orders." + +"Then we can have a private marriage." + +"We can do nothing of the kind. Do you think that I will consent to my +niece being married in a mouse hole? The Bishop is going to marry her, +and it is to be a very grand affair. I have influence to bring to the +ceremony most of our neighboring nobility, and the military friends of +Lord Cramer will be there in force, and their splendid uniforms will +make a fine effect. It is the first wedding I have ever had anything to +do with. You were married in a little Border village, and none of your +kin there;--father and mother and your wife, all gone!" and the Major +looked into the far horizon, as if he must see beyond it, while Ian +stood still and white at his side. Not a word was spoken. For a few +minutes both men surrendered themselves to Memory's divinest anguish. +Then the elder returned to their conversation and said--though in a much +more subdued manner: + +"Tell Marion to choose her six bride'smaids and give them beautiful +wedding garments; tell her all I have said, and try to take some +interest in the matter. Do, my dear lad, for no man will ever win Heaven +by making his earthly home a hell. Be sure and tell Marion that Lord +Cramer will be here in three months, and give her a big check to prepare +for his coming." + +"I promise to tell Marion. I will be as good as my word." + +"Just so. But this is a forgetful world, so I'll remind you of your +promise once more--and there is the girl's little fortune." + +"It is ready for her as soon as she is married. I have not touched a +penny of it. It is intact, principal and interest, and, by a little +careful investment, much increased." + +"You are a good man--a generous man." + +"No, no, Uncle. It was just pride, nothing better. She is _my_ child. I +preferred to take care of her myself--with my own money." + +Then they talked over the amounts to be spent on the marriage, on dress, +visitors, the ceremony and traveling expense, and when some decision had +been reached the Major was weary. He sighed heavily, and advised Ian to +go home and try to be of a kinder and more familiar spirit. "And tell +Marion," he said, "Lord Cramer will be in Glasgow in three or four +months, and she must have all her 'braws' ready, for he will not hear +tell of waiting--no, not for a day." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A DREAM + + For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in + the midst of her swift course.... Then suddenly visions of + horrible dreams troubled them sore, and terrors came upon them + unlooked for.--Wisdom of Solomon, 18: 14: 17. + + Dreams are rudiments of the great state to come. + + +For nearly two weeks after the Minister's talk with his uncle something +of the old cheerfulness and peace returned to the house on Bath Street. +To Marion her father was exceedingly kind and generous, and the girl was +radiantly happy in his love and in the many beautiful gifts by which he +proved it. But "the good and the not so good," which is, to some extent, +the inheritance of us all, gave him no rest, though for some days he was +able partially to control the strife. He had been too intense a believer +to stand still and say nothing about his doubts; and when a Scotchman +has cast off Calvin, and been unable to accept Kant, he is not an +agreeable man in domestic life. He was morbid, but he was not insincere, +and he was really desperate concerning the salvation of his own soul. +So the busy gladness of Mrs. Caird about the wedding preparations and +the joyous voice and radiant face of Marion, as the stream of love was +bearing her gently to the Happy Isles, rasped and irritated him. He was +beginning to feel that he had done enough--to wonder if he could not go +away until the marriage was an accomplished fact. Everything about it, +as far as he was concerned, had undergone the earth and been touched by +disappointment; and nothing had brought him back the calm peace, the +sweet content, the abiding strength that his old trust in the God of His +Fathers had always given. The cynicism of lost faith infected his +nature. He was even less courteous to all persons than he had ever been +before. The man was deteriorating on every side. + + "Oh, the regrets! the struggles and the failings! + Oh, the days desolate! the wasted years!" + +To such mournful refrains he walked, hour after hour, the crowded +streets and the narrow spaces of his own rooms; for he felt, even as St. +Paul did, that, if all this great scheme of Christianity were not true, +then its preachers were of all men most miserable. Generally speaking, +poor Burns' prayer that we might see ourselves as others see us is +surely an injudicious one, but if the Minister could have been favored +with one day's observation of Ian Macrae, as he really appeared to his +family, it might at least have given him food for reflection. + +After a day of great depression, partly due to the marriage preparations +and gloomy atmospheric conditions, but mainly, no doubt, to his wretched +spiritual state, he went one evening to a session at the Church of the +Disciples. He wondered at himself for going and his elders and deacons +wondered at his presence. He was lost in thought, took no interest in +the financial report of the treasurer, and left the meeting before it +closed. + +"The Minister was not heeding whether the Church was in good financial +standing or not," said Deacon Crawford, "and I never saw such a look on +any man's face. It comes back, and back, into my mind." + +"Ay," answered another deacon, "and did you notice his brows? They were +sorely vexed and troubled. And the eyes that had to live under them! +They gave you a heartache if he but cast them on you." + +"We'll be having a great sermon come the Sabbath Day, no doubt," said +the leading Elder; "and, the finances being in such good shape, what +think you if we give the Minister's daughter a handsome bridal gift?" + +"It isn't an ordinary thing to do, Elder." + +"The Minister is getting a very good salary." + +"He is an uncommonly proud man, too." + +"And his daughter is marrying a lord." + +"Well," answered the proposer of the gift, "there's plenty of time to +think the matter over," and all readily agreed to this wise delay. + +Though the Minister had left the session early, it was late when he +reached home, weary and hungry, and glad of Mrs. Caird's kind words and +plate of cold beef and bread. + +"Where on earth have you been, Ian?" she asked. "Do you know it is past +eleven?" + +"I have been going up and down and to and fro in the city, watching the +unceasing march of the armies of labor. The crowd never rested. When the +day workers stopped the night workers began--weary, joyless men. It was +awful, Jessy." + +"I know," said Mrs. Caird, "it is + + 'All Life moving to one measure, + Daily bread! Daily bread! + Bread of Life, and bread of Labor, + Bread of bitterness and sorrow, + Hand to mouth, and no to-morrow.' + +Good night, Ian. Go to sleep as soon as you can." + +How soon he kept this promise he never could remember; he only knew that +when he awakened he was drenched with the sweat of terror and trembling +from head to feet. "Who am I? Where am I?" he asked, as he fumbled with +the Venetian blind until it somehow went up and let in the early +dawning. Then he noticed the dripping condition of his night clothing, +and he hurried to his bed and cried out in a low, shocked voice, "_The +sheets are wet! The pillow is wet!_ What can it mean? What has happened? +_Oh, I remember!_" And he covered his face with his hands and his very +soul shuddered within him. + +Then his wet clothing shocked and frightened him, and he began to remove +it with palpitating haste, muttering fearfully as he redressed himself: +"How I must have suffered! Great God, the physical melts away at the +touch of the Spiritual! Oh, I wish Jessy would come! Why is she so late? +When I do not want her she is here half an hour before this time." The +next moment she tapped at his door and called, + +"Ian." + +"Oh, come in, Jessy. Come in! I want you! I want you!" + +"Breakfast is waiting." + +"Let it wait. Come in. I want you to tell me the truth, the plain, sure +truth about what I am going to ask you." + +"What is it, Ian?" + +"Jessy, did you ever know me to dream?" + +"Never. You have always declared that you could not understand what +Marion and I meant by dreaming." + +"Well, I had a dream this morning, and, though it seemed very short, I +felt when I awoke from it as if I had been in hell all the night long." + +"What did you dream?" + +"I was in the vestry of the Church of the Disciples, putting on my +vestments. I knew that the church was crowded, and I looked at myself +and was proud of my appearance. Then I was walking up the aisle very +slowly. Step by step I mounted the pulpit stairs, and stood facing the +largest congregation I had ever seen. And the light was just like the +light when there is an eclipse of the sun--an unearthly, solemn +obscurity, frightful and mysterious. I stood in my place and surveyed +the congregation. It filled the church, but the furthest points of +distance appeared to be nearly in the dark. I could see forms and +movements there, but nothing distinct. I looked at this gathering for a +moment, and then laid my hand upon the Bible, and, with my eyes still +upon the people, I opened it--Jessy!" + +"O man! Speak!" + +"There was nothing there." + +"Nothing there! What do you mean?" + +"Every page was blank--only white paper--not a word of any kind----" + +"Ian Macrae!" + +"I looked for my text. It was gone. I turned the pages with trembling +hands, but neither in the Old nor the New Testament was there a word. +And I cried out in my anguish, and looked at the wordless Bible till I +felt as if body and soul were parting. God, how I suffered! Earth has no +suffering to compare with it." + +"Then, Ian?" + +"Then I looked up at the congregation, and was going to tell them the +Bible had faded away, but I saw the people were a moving dark mass, in a +rapidly vanishing light; and I tried to find the pulpit stairs, but +could not, for I was in black darkness. And I was not alone; to the +right and the left there were movements and whispers and a sense of +_Presence_ about me. Powers unutterable and unseen that must have come +out of inevitable hell. The whole earth appeared to be awake and aware, +and _the Name_, _the Name_ I wanted to call upon I could not remember. +The effort to do so was a tasting of death." + +He covered his face and was silent, and Mrs. Caird took his cold hand +and said softly, "O Lord, Thou Lover of souls! Thou sparest all, for +they are Thine." + +"At last _the Name_ came into my heart, Jessy, and though I but +whispered the Word, its power filled the whole place, and the Evil Ones +were overcome--not with strength nor force of celestial arms, but with +that _One Word_ they were driven away; and I awakened and it was just +daylight, and I was so wet with the sweat of terror that I might have +been in the Clyde all night. Was this a dream, Jessy?" + +"Yes." + +"What does it mean?" + +"You know best. A God-sent dream brings its meaning with it. It is not a +dream unless it does so. You know, Ian. Why ask me?" + +"Yes, I know." + +About this experience Mrs. Caird would not converse, for she was not +willing to talk away the influence of Ian's spiritual visitation. She +was quite sure that he understood the message sent him, and equally sure +that he would implicitly obey it. So she left him alone, though she +heard him destroying papers all day long. The next day being Saturday, +he was very quiet, and she told herself he was preparing his sermon, and +then with a trembling heart she began to speculate as to its burden. She +feared that in some way his dream would come into relation or comment, +and she could not bear the idea of such a public confidence. + +She was still more uneasy when on Sunday morning he said in his most +positive manner, "Jessy, I wish you and Marion to remain at home to-day. +A little later you will understand my desire." + +"As you wish, Ian. We shall both be glad of a quiet rest day. I hope you +know what you are going to do, Ian. Our life is a spectacle--a tragedy +to both men and angels--bad angels as well as good ones. Don't forget +that, Ian." + +"I shall not forget, and I know what I am going to do." + +She looked at him anxiously, but had never seen him more decided and +purposeful. He was also dressed with extreme care, and, though in +ecclesiastical costume, was so singularly like his uncle that Mrs. Caird +involuntarily thought, "How soldierly he carries himself! What a fighter +he would have been! But he is some way quite different--not like the old +Ian at all." + +Yes, he was different, for on the soul's shoreless ocean the tides only +heave and swell when they are penetrated by the Powers of the World to +Come. And Dr. Macrae was still under the emotions of his first +experience of that kind. He was prescient and restless. For, though the +outward man appeared the same, the archway inside was uplifted and +widened, and Dr. Macrae had risen to its requirements. He was ready to +fight for his soul. Yes, with his life in his hand, to fight for its +salvation. What would it profit him if he gained the whole world and +lost his soul? + +Frequently he assured himself that he did not now regard the Bible as +divinely inspired, yet he was constantly deciding this or that question +by its decrees. So quite naturally he followed this tremendous inquiry +of Christ's by those two passionate invocations of David, "Cast me not +away from Thy Presence. Take not Thy Holy Spirit from me." To be cast +out of God's Presence. To be sent into the Outer Darkness, full of the +Evil Ones! "O Jessy!" he cried, "such a doom would turn a living man +into clay!" + +It was of this awful possibility he was thinking as he walked to the +Church of the Disciples. Two or three of the deacons were standing in +the vestibule, and they looked at him and then at each other with a +pleased expression. + +"We rejoice to see you, sir, looking so well," said one. "The church is +full, sir, and, if our clock is correct, there is but five minutes to +service time." + +He had five minutes yet, in the which he could draw back or postpone his +intention--or--or--then his dream came to his remembrance, and he put +all hesitation out of the question. With a thoughtful gravity he walked +down the aisle, ascended the pulpit stairs, and stood in his place +before the people. And they watched him with a sigh of content and +pleasure. They had often seen in his eyes that far-away gaze of one who +looks past the visible and sees time and eternity as the old prophets +saw them. + +They expected from this sign a sermon which would take them for an hour +"to the Land which is very far off." + +He stood silently facing his congregation, for even at this last minute +there came to his soul a doubtful whisper, "The position is yet yours. +You can delay any explanation a week--or even two. You had better do +so." He trembled under the strain of this instant decision. But the +whole congregation were rustling their hymn books and the precentor was +taking his desk. Then in a dear, vibrant voice he said: + +"We shall sing no hymn this morning. We shall make no prayer. I am here +to bid you farewell. You will see my face no more." + +There was an indescribable movement throughout the building, but nothing +articulate, and he quietly continued: "I have ceased to believe in the +divinity and the inspiration of the Bible. It is not any longer to me +the Word of God. It has nothing to say to me, either of Time or +Eternity. Its pages are blank. I might have gone away from you without +any explanation. I was tempted to do so, but we have been twenty years +together, and I desired to give you my last words." There was no +response from the cold, voiceless crowd, but he felt their antagonism to +be more palpable than that of either scornful looks or reproachful +words. With eloquent anger he described the cynical complaisance with +which the very existence of God and the inspiration of the Bible were +now challenged and discussed. "There is boundless danger in all such +discussions," he cried. "As long as we are loving and simple-minded we +judge the Bible by the heart and not by the intellect. And of such are +the Kingdom of Heaven." Then, as he spoke, the _Word_ became _Flesh_ and +prevailed like a message from another world. Many were the hard words he +gave them, and, if he had never before spoken the whole truth, he did so +at this last hour--not of any settled purpose--but because it was the +last hour, and he wanted them to see through his sight "the dead, small +and great, standing before God for the judgment to come." + +At this point the church was no longer either cold or voiceless, it felt +rather as if it were on fire. The people trembled and prayed and wept as +he spoke, and Ian Macrae was a man they had never before seen. His tall, +grave figure radiated a kind of awe, his voice rang out like a command. +The keen spiritual life within lit up his pale, striking face, and in +his eyes there was a strange glory--they shone like windows in a setting +sun. + +The intensity of feeling had been so great that there was in about +fifteen minutes an inevitable pause. Then he looked round, and +continued: + +"Listen to me a few moments, while I illustrate what I have said by my +own experience. A few months ago the Bible lay in every fold of my +consciousness. Now it has nothing to say to me, and it is impossible to +describe the loneliness and grief that fills my empty heart. For the God +of my Bible has left me. All my life I had trusted to whatever God said +in His Word. God had said it, and I knew that God would keep His Word. +Then I was tempted by the devil--no, by the gift of one thousand pounds, +to examine my Father's Word--to prove, and to test, and to try it, by +the suppositions and ideas of some small German, French, English--and +Scotch, so-called philosophers. And I was too small for the intellectual +dragon I went out to slay. All of them wounded me in some way, and my +God left me. I deserved it. I have lost my place among the sons of God. +With my own hand I crossed out my name from the list of those who serve +His altar. In the honored halls of St. Andrews they will think it kind +to forget Ian Macrae. + +"I am now bidding farewell--bidding farewell forever--to you, and not +only to you, but to all the innocent pleasures and happy labors of the +past. For me there is no birthday of Christ--no farewell supper in the +upper chamber--no flowery Easter morning. I dare not even think of that +sacred ghost story in the garden, for, if the stone was not rolled away +from the grave of Christ, it lies on every grave that has been dug since +the creation. And if there is no resurrection of the body--there is no +Life Eternal--_there is no God_!" + +His voice had sunk at the last few words, but it was poignantly audible. +A long, shuddering wail filled the church, and the women's cries and the +men's mutterings and movements were sharply distinct. Then the Senior +Elder looked expressively at the precentor, and he instantly raised the +hymn known to every church-going Scot: + + "O God of Bethel, by whose hand + Thy people still are fed, + Who through this weary wilderness + Hast all our fathers led." + +The first line was lifted heartily by the congregation; they evidently +felt it to be a proclamation of their Faith, but the melody quickly +began to scatter and cease, and before the first four lines were sung it +had practically ceased. Everyone, with movements of shock or sorrow, was +watching the Minister, who was slowly removing from his shoulders the +vestment of his office. In a few moments he had laid it slowly and +carefully over the front of the pulpit. Then he turned to the stairs, +and he remembered his dream and was afraid of them. What if there should +be only _one_ step to the floor below? The descent seemed steep and +dark. He kept his hand on the railing of the balusters, and the cries of +hysterical women and movements and mutterings of angry men filled his +ears. It was growing dark. He felt that he was losing consciousness. +Then a large, strong hand was stretched up to him, and, grasping it +gratefully, he reached the ground in safety. And when he looked into his +helper's face he said with wonder, "Uncle! You?" + +[Illustration: "The descent seemed steep and dark"] + +"Just me, laddie. Keep your heart and head up. Come what will, you've +done what's right. Put your arm through mine. We will take this walk +together." + +So arm in arm down the long aisle they went, and the Major said +afterward, "It was a worse walk than any down a red lane on a +battlefield." The women mostly covered their faces and wept. Many of the +men were standing up, angry and offensive in word and manner, but sure +that their attitude was well pleasing to God and to the Kirk He loved. +The Major's carriage was standing at the curbstone, and, without delay, +yet also without hurry, they took it and went together to Dr. Macrae's +home. Being Sunday morning, the streets were nearly empty, and the +drive, as became the day, was slow and silent. But Ian's hand was +clasped in his uncle's hand, and words were not necessary. + +Mrs. Caird was at the open door to meet them. "I heard the clatter of +the Major's horses; they clatter louder than any other in Glasgow--but +what are you here for? Who's preaching this morning? Ian, are you ill? +Major, what is it?" + +"Wait a while, my dear lady. Ian wishes to be alone, and I am going to +take lunch with you. Then I will tell you all that Ian has done. I am +going to give to-morrow to Ian and his affairs, so he will not require +to worry himself either about the Kirk or the market place." + +"I wish I had been present," answered Mrs. Caird. "I wish I had! I think +I also would have had a few words to say--or at least a few questions to +ask." + +"I cannot understand Ian taking such a noticeable farewell. It would +have been more like him to have said nothing to anyone, just resigned +without reason or right about it. But doubtless he had a reason." + +"He had. Two nights ago he had a dream." + +"Never! Ian never dreams." + +"He dreamt last Friday morning just at or before the streak of dawn. +Listen!" + +Then in an awed and whispering voice she related Ian's dream. The Major, +who was naturally a psychic man and a great dreamer, listened with +intense interest, but did not at once make any comment. After a short +reflection, however, he answered with an air of complacent gratitude: + +"God's dealings with the Macraes have ever been close and personal. +Plenty of preachers are no doubt preaching this day what they do not +believe, but they have not been shown and warned like Ian. I think his +dream was a great honor and favor." + +"You Macraes have a wonderful way of appropriating God. I dare say a +great many ministers have been warned and advised as well as Ian." + +"No, Jessy, they have not. If they had been warned as Ian was warned, +they would have done exactly as Ian has done. Dreams are strange things. +You cannot help noticing them--you cannot help being led by them. I +wonder why." + +"Because dreams belong to the Spiritual World, and humanity has an +instinctive belief in this Spiritual World. You do not have to teach men +and women to dream. A true dreamer has the gift in childhood as +perfectly as in old age. There is no age, no race, no class, no +circumstances free from dreams. God is everywhere and knows everything, +and He speaks to His children in dreams and by the oracles that lurk in +darkness." + +"In my own life, Mrs. Caird, they have often read the future. How do +they do it?" + +"How can we tell what subtle lines are between Spirit and Spirit? A +century ago nobody knew how messages could be sent through the air--sent +all over the world. We had not then discovered the medium nor the +method. In another century--or less--we may discover the medium and +method of communication between this world and the other." + +"Do you think some houses are more easily visited by dreams than +others?" + +"Yes, and for many reasons, but they cannot be prevented from entering +any place to which they are sent. I was not a week at Cramer before I +was aware + + 'of Dreams upon the wall, + And visions passing up the shadowy stair and through the vacant + hall.'" + +"I am glad you told me of Ian's dream. I understand him better now." + +"And like him better?" + +"Yes, but I have always loved Ian above all others." + +"Then be patient with him now. It is hard for mortals to live when their +moments are filled with eternity." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LOVE IS THE FULFILLING OF THE LAW + + "Then, as the veil is rent in twain, + From unremembered places where they lay + Dead thoughts, dead words arise and live again, + The clouded eyes can see, the lips can pray. + A purer light dawns on the night of pain, + And, on the morrow, 'tis the Sabbath day." + + The love of God, which passeth all understanding. + + +For a few days Dr. Macrae was seen frequently about the streets of +Glasgow. Some bowed to him, some passed by on the other side. He was +also generally accompanied by Major Macrae or by a certain well-known +lawyer, neither of them men partial to greetings in the market place or +conversations at the street corners. So in a manner he was protected by +his companions and his preoccupation. In his home all knew that he was +going away, but no one named the circumstance to him. It was not an easy +thing to talk to Macrae on subjects he did not wish named. + +Indeed, it was four days after his public resignation from the ministry +before the Church of the Disciples ventured to make any movement +signifying their acceptance of his withdrawal. Then a little company of +church officials called on him to exchange some necessary papers and pay +the salary which was due. Thomas Reid's name was among those of the +visitors, and for a moment Ian resolved not to meet them. But it was +Jessy Caird who brought him their request, and she looked so +persuasively at Ian that he answered: + +"Very well, Jessy, if you think so, send them in here." + +When the little band entered his study his heart melted at the sight of +these old associates of his dead life. They had honored and loved him +for many years, and his miserable state was not their fault. Only Elder +Reid had ever offended, and he had always regretted the trouble and been +glad when it was removed. So Ian looked at them with his heart in his +eyes, and they looked at him and could not utter a word. + +For this man was not their long-beloved Minister. He was even outwardly +so changed they could not for a few moments accept him. That very day +Ian had taken off his "blacks" forever. The long black broadcloth coat +and vest and the snow-white band around his throat had been replaced by +a very handsome suit of dark tweed, such as they were themselves +wearing. And this change in his dress--so totally unexpected--moved +them beyond all reason. They looked at him in silence, and their hearts +and eyes were full of unshed tears. + +They had seated themselves on the long sofa, and Macrae rose and went to +them: "You have come to bid me farewell," he said, "and I am glad to see +you--you have been brothers to me--it breaks my heart to part with +you--and all you represent--but I must go. I know not where--nor yet +what may befall me, but if I die I shall die seeking the God I have +loved--and--lost." + +As he spoke he advanced to the man nearest him and held out his hand, +and it was taken with great apparent love and emotion. An older man bent +his head over it--was it not the kindly, gracious hand that had so often +broken to him the Bread of Life? Thomas Reid was the last of the +company. He looked into Macrae's face with brimming eyes, and when he +took Ian's offered hand a great tear dropped upon the clasping fingers. +Both men saw it, and Macrae said with a sad smile: + +"That washes all unkindness out, Elder," and with sobbing words Reid +answered: "It does, sir. It does. O Minister, is it not possible for you +to unsay the words you said last Sabbath Day?" + +"No." + +"The Lord is merciful to His elect." + +"I have denied the Lord, and He has forsaken me." + +"He cannot forsake those whom He has chosen. You have lived a good +life." + +"I have not. I have run after strange gods. I have looked His Word in +the face and disobeyed it. I have put scientific and philosophical +religion in the place of Christ's religion, and my Bible, once full of +comfort, has nothing to say to me." + +"Well, then, sir, you know who is the mediator between God and man." + +"Elder, if there is a God, I want to find Him." + +"Then seek Him, sir." + +"I am seeking Him as those who seek for life and life eternal. Through +the world I will seek Him. To the last breath of this life I will call +upon--perhaps--if there is a God--He may hear me." + +Blind with feeling, the men went away so quietly that Mrs. Caird threw +down her work and said impatiently: "There! He has sent them off without +a word. How could he do it? Oh, but Scots are hard-baked men. Even those +proud English would have had a 'God speed' to bless the parting, and +I----" + +Then Ian entered, and he said cheerfully: "We had a pleasant parting, +Jessy. I am glad of it. I would have been sorry to have missed it." + +"What did you say to them?" + +"What I said last Sabbath--that I was going to seek Him whom my soul +loveth, even if I died in the search." + +"There is no 'if' in such a search. God is not a 'highly probable' God. +He is a fact. He is nearer to you than breathing, closer than hands and +feet. Even a pagan knew that much, Ian; all that is wanted is to become +conscious of the _nearness of God_, and to seek God with all your heart +and all your soul, and you will find Him. Not perhaps! You _will_ find +Him." And Ian was silent and troubled, and went away. + +Then Jessy took her knitting again, and, as she lifted the dropped +stitches, said slowly and sorrowfully: "Ah me! How many half-saved souls +must come back again to learn the lesson they should have learned in +this life. God may well be merciful to sinners, for they know not what +they do." + +On Saturday morning he went very quietly away. He had done all that +could be done for the happiness of his family, and the situation had +been tranquilly accepted by them. There was no haste, no irritating +questions or advices, and, as soon as he was out of sight, everyone went +back to the work occupying them. Yet the man they had watched away was +near and dear to them, and full of a sorrow so great they hardly +understood it. + +He was bound for the Shetlands, because he believed he would find in +their simple Kirks the height, and depth, and purity of Calvinism. But +he found nothing peculiar to these strong, silent fishers. They had +generally an inflexible faith in their own election, and in the ordering +of their lives by a God who knew "neither variableness nor shadow of +turning." They went fearlessly out on any sea a boat could live in, +because, if it was not their appointed hour of death, "water could not +drown them"; and in all other matters they approved of John Calvin's +plan of sin and retribution, and stuck to it like grim death. + +Yet he spent the whole summer in Shetland, and winter was threatening to +shut in the lonely islands when he saw one morning an unusual craft +fighting her way into harbor. She was a strong, handsome boat, a perfect +model of what a fine fishing-smack should be, and she was flying a blue +ribbon from her masthead. Evidently she was one of the mission ships +serving the Deep-Sea Fishermen. Ian was instantly much interested, and +soon fell into conversation with one of her surgeons, who took him on +board and who talked to him all day of this great floating city of the +fishing fleets--a city whose streets were made of tossing ships--a city +without a woman in it--a city whose strange, winding lanes of +habitations ceaselessly wander over the lonely, stormy miles of the +black North Sea--a city even then of more than forty thousand +inhabitants. + +"And what of the men in this floating city?" asked Ian. + +"They are men indeed! Speaking physically, they are the flower of our +race. They have muscles like steel, their eyes are steady, their feet +sure. The sight of the work they do strikes terror in the heart of one +not used to it. When the call comes for the great net to be hauled they +hurry, half-asleep, on deck, very often to face a roaring icy wind, +lashing sleet or blinding snow. They tramp round the capstan and tug and +strain with dogged persistence until the huge beam of the trawl comes +up. Then, often in the dark, they grope about till they mechanically +coil the nets and begin the gruesome work of sorting and packing fish, +with but fitful gleams of light." + +"What a dreadful life!" exclaimed Ian. + +"And when the haul is over there is no bath, no change of clothes, no +warmth for the men. They plunge into their reeking dog-hole of a cabin, +and in their sodden clothes sleep until the next call sends them on deck +with their clothes steaming. + +"But you see, sir," he continued, "we are beginning to send mission +ships and hospital ships among the fleets, and the men do not have--when +they break or fracture a limb, or in other ways injure themselves--to +be tossed from ship to ship until, perhaps after three or four days, +they come to a place where they can be attended to." + +"And are you improving these conditions in every way?" asked Ian. + +"Yes, indeed, very rapidly." + +"I should like to go with you." + +"No. You would soon be wretched. You could not bear to see the smacksmen +at their work. It makes me shiver to think of it. Two days ago I +attended to a man who had shattered three fingers and divided a tendon, +and who was working out his time in pain that would have been unbearable +to me or to you. Our hospital ships, when we have builded plenty of +them, will alter such things. But, sir, if you do not want to die of +heartache, keep out of the Deep-Sea Fishing Fleet. No weakling could +stand it--he could not live a month in it." + +Ian, however, could not be discouraged. He remained anxious to see the +fleet fisheries at close quarters, and when a boat, urged by four strong +rowers, came that afternoon for the surgeon, Ian pleaded to accompany +him. "I can help you, Doctor," he said. "I know a little about surgery." +So Ian prevailed, and in a few minutes was with the surgeon on his way +to the injured man. They found him lying in a lump on the deck, under +his head a coil of ropes. The skipper stood at his side, making no +pretense to hide his grief. "It's Adam Bork, Doctor," he said, "the best +sailor in the fleet, _my old mate_. Doctor, do something for him." + +The Doctor looked at the man, then at the skipper. "There is not a +hope," he answered. "He is dying now." + +The man heard and understood, he looked at the skipper and the skipper +bent to his face. Something was asked, something was promised, and the +two men, with one long farewell look, parted forever. + +The Doctor soon found other patients, and he told Ian to watch by the +dying sailor and to give him spoonsful of cold water as long as he could +take them. + +"Is that all that can be done?" inquired Ian. + +"I will ask him," and he said, "Adam, you are in mortal pain--the pains +of death--shall I give you something to ease them?" + +"What can you give me?" + +"Laudanum." + +"No. I won't go to God drunk." + +"You are right, Bork. Good-bye." + +About dawning the dying man looked at Ian with such a piteous +entreaty in his pale blue eyes that Ian felt he must, if possible, +grant whatever he desired. Very slowly and distinctly he asked, +"What--do--you--want--me--to--do?" and the answer came, as if from +another world, muffled and far off, but thrilled with such an agonizing +intensity that it struck Ian as if it was a physical blow, + +"_Pray for me!_" + +Ian knelt down. He tried to pray, but he could not. With almost +superhuman efforts he tried to pray, not for himself, but for this poor +sailor sinking and dying in that dark place, struggling, forsaken, +alone, but he could not. Again the dying man whispered, "_Pray!_" and +his eyes were full of reproach, and the look in them almost broke Ian's +heart. The next moment he was gone. + +It was against all Ian's spiritual feelings to pray for the dead, but in +after years he prayed often and sincerely, "for the repose of the soul +of Adam Bork." And why not? God was still in His Universe, Adam was +therefore somewhere in God's presence. It may even be that prayer +prevails there more easily than here. Creeds may say what they like, the +heart of humanity prays for its beloved dead as naturally as it prays +for its beloved absent. + +As soon as possible Ian was put on shore, and a week afterward he found +himself in his uncle's home. He had gone first to Bath Street, but the +house there was closed and empty. There were placards in the windows +offering it for sale or rent, and the windows themselves, always so +spotless, were now black with smoke and dust. It was a cold day and had +a sharp promise of winter in its flurries of north wind and little +showers of icy rain with them. All was desolation. Ian's first thoughts +were of an angry, injured nature. The empty house told its own story. +Marion was married, Donald in California, and Jessy had doubtless +returned to her own home in the Border country. "No one cared about him, +etc.," and when people get into this selfish mood they never ask +themselves whether they are reasoning on just or unjust premises. + +So Ian went to Blytheswood Square, and found his uncle cheerfully eating +a good dinner. He was delighted at his nephew's return. "Laddie! +Laddie!" he cried joyfully, "you are a sight to cure sore eyes. I was +just thinking of you; when did you touch Glasgow?" + +"An hour ago. I went to Bath Street, and found the house empty." + +"Just so. All gone to bonnier and better homes. At least they think so, +and we must even bear the same hope. Where have you been?" + +"In the Shetlands. I found nothing to help me there. The last week I +spent with the North Sea Fishing Fleet." + +"Did you? I am delighted. That is where all my spare cash goes. That is +the reason I do not give Elder Reid a big sum for his Foreign Mission +Fund. I do not like Hindoos and Chinamen, and they have a religion of +their own quite good enough for them. But oh! Ian, those big, brave +fellows, working like giants and suffering beyond ease or help, they are +our kin--leal, brave Scots, who would die for Scotland's right, or +Scotland's faith, any hour it was necessary. It was only yesterday Reid +stopped me on the street and asked me for a subscription for the Chinese +Missions." + +"What did you say?" + +"I did not heed him. I buttoned up my coat and set my eyes far off to +the river side." + +"You did right." + +"It stands to reason that Scotchmen ought to look after their own +first." + +"I suppose I am quite forgotten. I have had no letters. I do not know +whether anything has happened or not." + +"You left no address. You wrote to no one. Yes, to me you sent one +letter, full to its edges with uncertainties. You must remember Marion +is married and greatly taken up with her husband. You never answered +Donald's letter, and the lad, of course, takes it for granted that his +silence was what you wished. Ian, you have tried wandering, and there is +no peace or profit in it. Now, then, if you cannot pray, you can work; +if you can't love God, you can love your fellow creatures. Dr. James +Lindsey was here last week, and I spoke to him about you. When you were +a stripling you were all for surgery, and Dr. James thinks you will yet +make a fine surgeon. You are to live with him, and he was delighted at +the very thought of your company. It is the great opportunity left you, +and I hope you see all its possibilities and will accept them." + +Ian was satisfied at the prospect. It was quite true that even in +boyhood he had had a craving for the surgical profession, and the +arrangements made for him by the two elder gentlemen were so homely and +generous, and so full of kind consideration, that he was greatly moved +by their unselfishness. In a few days he went to London, and was met at +the train by Dr. Lindsey. Ian was not ignorant of him. He had seen him +at his uncle's house several times, and he knew that the Major and Dr. +James had been friends since ever they were barefooted laddies, fishing +in the mountain streams together. + +Neither was Lindsey ignorant of Ian. He had heard him preach, and he +knew something of the soul struggle through which he was passing. +Indeed, he had his own plans for relieving this spiritual misery, and, +as soon, therefore, as Ian reached London, he found all his days filled +with study and labor. But his surroundings were homelike and pleasant, +and the men were intellectually well matched. + +Now, the road downward is easy and rapidly taken, and Ian had managed +to slip from the pinnacle of ministerial fame into silence and +forgetfulness in about one year, but it took him a ten years' climb to +win his way to about the same pitch of public favor in his new vocation. +But of this ten years I shall have little to say. The road upward is a +climb to the very top, and all men find it so, but Ian enjoyed the study +and the practical work of his profession and became extraordinarily +skillful in it. + +Their lives were by no means dull or monotonous. Truly the day was given +up to business, but they usually dined together at seven, and afterward +went to the opera or theater, or perhaps to a reception at some house +where they were familiar and honored guests. Or, if they wished to stay +at their own fireside, they were the best of good company for each +other. Nothing that touched man's soul or body came amiss for their +discussion, and if Ian was the more widely and generally educated, Dr. +Lindsey had the keener spiritual instinct, and his soul often ventured +where Ian's followed only with flagging and uncertain wings. In the +summer they made short trips to the Continent or they went to Glasgow, +and, being joined there by the Major, sailed north to the Macrae +country, and then home by Cromarty and Fife. + +When Ian had been in London ten years Dr. Lindsey began to talk of a +rather longer holiday than usual. "But first," he added, "here is a +letter from Squire Airey, and he wants either you or me to run up to +Airey Hall to examine his fractured arm. It is all right, I know, but he +is frightened and impatient, and you might go as far as Furness and make +him comfortable." + +"I should like to go. I have long wanted to see Windermere, and I could +return that way." + +With his patient at Airey Hall Ian stayed two days, and on the third +morning the Squire said: "Doctor, I will give you a good mount, and you +can ride as far as Ambleside. You will go through a lovely land. Leave +the horse at the Salutation Inn in Ambleside when you take the train. I +will send a groom for it." + +So Ian took the Squire's offer, for it was a lovely day in August, and +everything seemed to shimmer and glow through a soft golden haze. The +tender, peaceful scenes on all sides induced in him a little mood of +pathos or regret. He could not help it. He had no particular reason for +it; he appeared, indeed, to be in a very enviable condition. He was yet +exceedingly handsome, for it takes a Scotchman fifty years to clothe his +big frame, to round off the corners and soften the large features, and +to make out of a gigantic block of bone and sinew a handsome, finely +modeled man. He had, as far as business went, made himself twice over. +He was the welcome friend and guest of the greatest scientists and +physicians, and his short visits to the most exclusive drawing-rooms +were regarded as great favors. Was he not happy, then? No. Regret, like +a slant shadow, darkened all his sunshine, and the want of personal love +left his life poor and thin on its most vital side. + +Nor could he ever forget that solemnly joyful night following the day of +his admission to the ministry. Like the knights of old, he had spent the +midnight hours in the dark, still Kirk of Macrae, and the promises he +then made and the secret, sacred joys of his espousal to the Holy +Office, had been graven on his memory by a pen which no eraser can +touch. Whenever he was long alone this memory shone out in every detail, +and he said once, in a passion of anger at himself: "If I had been a +soldier of the Queen, they would have drummed me out of the ranks. I +would have deserved it--yes, I would!" + +This morning the unwelcome memory returned and returned, and, in order +to be rid of it, he began to pity himself for the loneliness of his life +and the misfortune which had attended all his affections. + +"There was old Lord Cramer, his apparent kindness was all a plot to get +a little posthumous fame out of my intellect. His one thousand pounds +was a miserable price for the work he proposed for me, and he tried to +pass it off as a kindness. I hate the man, and I hate myself for being +fooled by him. Lady Cramer--nay, I will let her go--another has judged +her now. Donald, whom I idolized, nearly broke my heart, gave a son's +love to a stranger, married a Spaniard and a Roman Catholic, and has not +noticed me for years. I dare say Donald and that Scotchman have had many +a laugh over my leaving the ministry. Jessy went to them, and she could +tell them every circumstance of the event. And, though Marion writes +whiles, and has called her son after me, I never see her unless she +happens to be at Uncle Hector's when I go to see him. And, of course, I +cannot call at Lord Cramer's house, not even to see my daughter. Was any +man ever so undeservedly deserted as I am?" + +He was slowly passing through a little village as he troubled his heart +with these thoughts. And, as he looked at the small dark cottages +wanting the usual gardens of flowers, he said to himself, "It is a +mining village; there must be many of them in this locality;" and so was +returning to his unprofitable musing when a tremendous explosion +occurred, and the women from every cottage ran crying to the pit mouth. +Ian also hastened there, and, when he said he was a physician, was taken +down in the first cage. It stopped at an upper gallery and the men ran +backward into the mine. Ian thought he had suddenly awakened from life +and found himself in hell. He heard only cries and groans and shouts, +and the running of men and their frantic calling of names. And he was +spellbound at the first moment by the sight of a boy about nine years +old, lying in a narrow cut of the coal, with a great block of coal +across his body. His father stood beside him, his face full of +unspeakable love and pity, for the mute anguish of the child was +terrible. But, ere he could speak to them, there was a frenzied rush of +men crying, "Fire! Fire! After-damp!" For just one minute they stood at +the cut where the child lay, and called, "For God's sake, Davie, come, +come, come!" and Davie shook his head slightly, and answered, + +"_Nay, I'll stay with the lad._" + +And when Ian heard these words, they smote him like a sword, and he +cried out: "_I have seen God's love!_ This hour _I have seen God's +love_--like as a father pitieth his children--even unto death--so God +pities and loves. My God, love me! Teach me how to love! I am thy +faithless son, Ian; forgive me and love me!" + +He was in an ecstasy, and, even as he prayed, a still, small voice ran, +like a swift arrow of flame, through all the black galleries of the +mine--a voice like the noise of many waters, but sweet as the music of +heaven, and it spoke but one word: + +"_Ian!_" + +Through all that earthly hell, filled with death and horror of +suffering, above the crying of the men, above the screams of the +wounded, the voices of fear and agony, this wonderful voice passed +along, swift as the lightning, yet full of the divinest melody. + +These events so marvelous to Ian had not occupied more than a moment or +two of time. Then there was another rush of men with the assurance that +it would be the last. They swept Ian with them, but Davie, still +standing by his child, just shook his head and repeated his decision, +"_Nay, I'll stay with the lad_"; and the crowd, with fire behind them, +struggled to the cage and were drawn up to the sunshine. + +At the pit mouth Ian met the rescue company of the pit and the +physicians, and he untied his horse and rode away into the woods and +hills. He was weeping unconsciously, washing every word he uttered with +tears of repentance and love. + +"Oh, it is wonderful!" he cried. "_Wonderful! Wonderful!_ Out of all the +millions of men in this world, _God knew my name_. He knew _where I +was_. He _called me by my name_. Oh, miracle of love!" + +All the way to Ambleside he rode slowly. He was in a transport of love +and joy--had he not been veritably taken by God's love "out of hell"? He +was thrilled with wonder, and he would make no haste. He bent his soul +to the heavenly influences which had made the last few hours forever +memorable. So his prayers grew sweeter and calmer. They had in them the +voices of the night wind, the awe of the stars, and the rustle of unseen +wings. And, just as he was entering Ambleside, his Bible took part in +his happiness and whispered to his heart a verse he had read hundreds of +times, but which at this hour seemed to have been written specially for +him. + +"Fear thou not. I have redeemed thee. I have called thee by thy name. +Thou art mine."--Isaiah 43:1. + +He knew then what he was to do. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AFTERWARD + + "Christ is God's realized idea of perfected humanity." + + "Think, when our Soul understands + The Great Word which makes all things new, + When earth breaks up and heaven expands, + How will the change strike me and you + In the house not made with hands?" + + "Pouring Heaven into this shut House of Life!" + + +According to a literary scripture, my story should end here. I have +satisfied my proposition--the man who lost God has found Him; therefore, +to say more is to pass my climax and break a very prominent canon of +criticism. But I am sure that there are many who have followed the +struggle of Ian Macrae into the Second Birth who will desire to know +what the New Man did with his New Life; and I think it better to grant a +good wish than to keep a literary law. + +In that blessed night, full of the presence of God, which Ian had spent +on the hills surrounding Ambleside, he had looked steadily and hopefully +into the future, and clearly understood what he must do. So he never +thought of returning to London, but early in the morning took a train to +Glasgow. In the place where he had doubted and denied God he must show +Him forth publicly as the Father and Lover of Souls, the God gracious +and long-suffering, full of mercy and truth. He was anxiously longing to +begin this work; he grudged the hours in which he had to be silent, and +was full of a buoyant joyfulness so sincere and so radiant that people +looked into his face and involuntarily smiled. + +He reached Glasgow before the noon hour, and as soon as he was inside +his uncle's house he called him in resounding tones, full of eager, +wistful excitement. And the Major, who was in his private office, +recognized the voice and went hastily to meet his nephew. + +"Why, Ian, Ian! What is the matter?" he cried. "Whatever has come to +you? You look--you speak like a different man!" + +"Uncle! _Brother of my father!_ I have found what I lost! I have found +Him whom my soul loveth!" Then they sat down, and Ian related the +wonderful story of the last wonderful twenty-four hours; and the old man +listened with a joy past utterance. His face radiated wonder and love, +his blue eyes shone through reverential tears, unconsciously his head +and hands were uplifted, and his lips whispered the prayer of +thanksgiving that was in his heart. + +"It is a heavenly story, Ian," he said, "and the greatest wonder is +this--though numberless souls have such experiences, every one has its +own solemnly distinct personality. And their number never makes them +common. They are always wonderful. They are never doubted, and they +never fail. But, Ian, no one that has been 'called by name' can ever +forget the voice that called him; it haunts and hallows life +forevermore. Now, then, what are you going to do?" + +"I am going to preach the Love of God!--the patient, everlasting Love of +God! O Uncle, can I ever forget the love in that father's face as he +stood waiting to die with his child? I was not told, I did not read of +it, I _saw_ the love of God in that father's face, and knew in that +moment how God so loved the world that He gave His Son for its +salvation. Now, through all the days of my life, I am going to preach +the Love of God." + +"That is right. You shall have a church here--in Glasgow." + +"Somewhere among the teeming habitations of the poor." + +"No. The rich need the gospel you have to preach more than the poor do. +We will build among the terraced crescents, where the rich dwell. And +we will build of good gray granite, and finish it with the best of +everything--and the pulpit will be yours." + +"Dear Uncle, no pulpit! I could not go into one again. I have two +memories of a pulpit. I wish to forget them. But there is something we +have not spoken of that I desire greatly to have in connection with my +church. I mean a dispensary. Christ healed the body as well as the soul; +for it is not a soul, nor is it a body we wish to train upward--it is a +_Man_, and we ought not to divide them." + +So they talked over the dispensary with perfect accord, all the time the +table was being laid for dinner and the meal eaten. Nothing interfered +with this interest. It was quite a fresh one to the Major, and he was +greatly delighted with the idea. Indeed, it was the old soldier who +first proposed a small surgery connected with the dispensary. "When I +was at the wars," he said, "I saw many a poor man suffering for want of +the knife and a bandage. We must have a little surgery, Ian." And Ian +joyfully acceded to the proposition. + +"It will be a big increase in your work, Ian, but----" + +"O Uncle, I am here to work--not to study and dream. I must work, I must +preach; I must help the sick and sorrowful. How soon can the church be +ready?" + +"I do not know exactly, but we will build the surgery and dispensary as +soon as we have got the proper location. They will give you many good +opportunities while the church is building. And I hope you have not +forgotten duties kin and kindred to yourself. They cannot be overlooked, +Ian." + +"I will overlook none of them, Uncle. I have been a great sinner in this +respect." + +"For instance, Marion has never weaned herself from you. She talks of +you constantly when she comes here, and we have had some tearful hours +about your silence and neglect." + +"I will atone for them as soon as may be. I have often been sorry that I +did not stay and see her marriage." + +"It was a grand affair. Nothing like it was ever seen in Glasgow before +or since. There were the Bishop and two clergymen to perform the +ceremony and a notable company to see that it was properly done. Among +this company were three officers from the Household troop, and, if I had +the words, I would tell you about their splendid uniforms and stars and +ribbons of honor. And there was Lochiel, in full Highland costume, +looking more like some old god than a man--and McAllister and McLeod and +Moray, and half a dozen more in all their varieties of kilts and plaids +and philabegs; velvet vests and gold buttons, and eagle feathers in +their Glengary caps. They were a splendid and picturesque background for +the lovely bride, clothed in white from head to foot and looking like an +angel. McAllister had sent a basket of white heather for bridal +bouquets, and every Highlander there wore a spray of it in his vest or +cap. I had a stem or two at my own breast--and Marion's veil was crowned +with a wreath of the lovely flowers." + +"After the marriage, where did they go?" + +"First of all, they came here, to my house--and we had a bridal +breakfast that none will forget. Lord Glasgow toasted the bride, and the +Provost of the City made answer for her. His speech was well enough, but +a little o'er long--considering the occasion." + +"And then?" + +"They went to all the capital cities of Europe. It was a wonderful +honeymoon trip. They might have been royalties themselves, they were +that nobly entertained. Well, well! Marion Macrae was a bonnie bride, +and she is far bonnier and better now than she was then--the best of +mothers, the best of wives, a noble woman every way. She has a son +called 'Ian,' after you, and two little girls who wear the names of +Agnes and Jessy--you know----" + +"Yes--I know. How could I ever forget?" + +"And there is poor Donald. You are not to slight Donald. You will write +to him, Ian?" + +"I will _go_ to him. I can never be quite satisfied until I have seen +Donald. I was cruel and selfish then, but I loved him. I love him now +better than ever. He sits in the center of my heart. I must go as soon +as may be to California." + +"You are right. We will buy our land and make our estimates, and set the +men to work. Then you can go and kiss your banished son." + +"I am afraid I cannot bring him home again." + +"Would you think of suchlike foolishness? God gave him his wife and his +portion out there. But I will tell you what you can do--you can bring +home Mrs. Caird. In her last letter to Marion she said she was weary of +golden oranges and perpetual sunshine; and she hoped God would let her +come hame to her ain countrie before she died. She was fairly sick for +the gray skies and green braes of Scotland, and, as for the rain, it was +only gloom upon gleam, and gleam upon gloom--very comfortable weather +upon the whole. I was sorry for the pleasant little woman. You can bring +her back. See that you do so. For I am counting on you living with me, +Ian. Why should we part? I am growing old, and need your love and +company; and I want to be your right hand in the Godlike work before +you." + +"My dear Uncle, you shall have all your will. I desire nothing better +than to share your love and your home, and have your constant counsel +and help." + +"Then bring back Mrs. Caird. She will send away all the wasteful, lazy, +dirty men bodies round the house, and hire in their place tidy, busy +young lasses. Then, Ian, I can have a dream of a home for my old age. No +matter what her 'will and want,' give her everything she asks--only +bring her back." + +"I will do so, Uncle--if possible." + +"Possible or not--bring her back." + +There was no pause in their conversation until the long summer twilight +filled the quiet square. Then they suddenly remembered Doctor James +Lindsey and the London duties that might be hard to relinquish, and thus +delay the work which they so eagerly willed to do. So Ian spent the +evening in writing to his friend, while the Major lost himself the while +in financial calculations about the great project. + +Ian had not one doubt of his friend's sympathy. "I know James Lindsey, +Uncle," he said with an air of happy confidence; "he will count God's +claim long before his own. And he will see at once that I have been +unconsciously preparing myself for the great work we are planning for +eleven years; and, though I have been led by a way I knew not, every +step has been taken right." + +Then the Major looked into his happy face and said solemnly: "Ian, if +you _saw_ the love of God shining on that father's face in the awful +pit, I see it just as plainly on your countenance. It has absolutely +changed it. Your voice is also different, and your words go singing +through my soul. You are a new man. You are a happy man, and I used to +think that, of all men, you were the most miserable." + +"Uncle, I might well be miserable. The phantoms that peopled +my nights must have destroyed life if God had not forbidden +it--remorse that came too late--cries uttered to inexorable +silence--doubt--anguish--prostration worse than death. I was afraid to +look back, equally afraid to look forward; and then last night changed +all in the twinkling of an eye. I fell at the feet of the Father of +Spirits with a joy past utterance. Troubles of all kinds grew lighter +than a grasshopper. I had a rest unspeakable until rapture followed +rest, and I cried out, 'Whom have I in heaven but Thee? and there is +none upon earth that I desire beside Thee!'" Then the two men +involuntarily clasped hands. They had no words fit for that moment. +Words would have been a hindrance, not a help. + +The next morning Ian was crossing Exchange Place when he saw a man +approaching who gave him a thrill of recollection. He hesitated for a +moment, and then went quickly forward. His hand was outstretched and his +face smiling. + +"Richard!" he cried. "I am glad to see you. I am glad to have this +opportunity of saying I did you wrong. I was very unkind both to you and +to Marion. I am sincerely sorry for the past, will you forgive it now?" + +And Lord Cramer clasped the hand offered and answered with hearty +gladness: "I cannot forgive it now, sir. I forgave it many years ago. +Marion stands between us. We are the best of friends." Then they walked +together cheerfully to a hotel and ordered a good lunch, for both +English and Scotchmen cannot celebrate any event--whether it concern the +heart or the purse--without offering a meat and drink sacrifice for the +occasion. During the meal Ian sent loving words to Marion, and promised +to be with her on the following day, and thus love and good-will took +the place forever of wronged and slighted affection. Then he saw his +eldest grandchild, a beautiful boy of ten years old, Ian, the future +Lord of Cramer, and his heart went out to the lovable child, as it did +also to the bright, seven-year-old Agnes and the pretty baby, Jessy. +Three days he spent at Cramer Hall, and saw all the improvements made +there--the additions to the Hall, the fine condition of the park and +gardens, and the famous and highly profitable oyster beds. So his heart +was filled with that mortal love for which it had been aching and +perishing. + +When he returned to Glasgow he found Dr. Lindsey with his uncle. He had +come in answer to Ian's letter, and he was enthusiastic concerning all +Ian's intentions and eager to assist in realizing them. "You know, Ian," +he said, "we were preparing for a long holiday together when you started +for Furness and Ambleside. This is 'the long journey' for which we were +unconsciously preparing. I called at the little mining village as I came +here----" + +"And that father and his boy?" interrupted the Major. + +"They died together in the pit. They were laid in one wide grave, and +rich and poor, from far and near, came to honor that perfect image of +the Divine love. I called on his widow. She was still weeping for 'her +man and her lile lad.' He was her first-born, but she has four other +children, the youngest a few weeks old. She is very poor. Her neighbors +are feeding her." + +"But that must stop," cried Ian. "It is my duty and my pleasure. How can +I ever pay the debt? I will see to it at once. It is a sin that I have +not already done so." + +"You are right, Ian," answered the Doctor; "and we may recall now how +wonderfully you have been led, and realize that there is a kind of +predestination in our life. It was necessary for you to spend ten years +in the House of Pain and Suffering and Death; necessary for you to know +how to cure the sick and to heal the wounded, in order to prepare you to +receive the sacred mystery in that horrible pit, and make you fit for +the work you have yet to do. Do you remember how impossible we found it, +night after night, to satisfy ourselves as to the course and country our +holiday should take? And all the time the journey was being arranged for +us. Surely the steps of a good man are ordered of the Lord." + +"'_Steps_,'" said the Major. "We may be glad of that word, for it is +easy for a man to take just one step to ruin or to death." + +The journey to America being determined, Dr. Lindsey went back to London +to prepare his business for an absence of three months. Ian was glad of +his companionship, and promised to meet him in Liverpool on the 25th of +July. There they would take together passage for New York. This plan was +fully carried out, but of the voyage, the journeyings and their life in +California there is no necessity to write. Possibly most of my readers +have crossed the Atlantic, and know far more about California than I do; +so that I may well leave any descriptions to their memories or +imaginations. It is the humanity of my story with which we have to do. + +They had been eagerly looked for at Los Angeles, and were welcomed with +unbounded love and respect. Donald and his father drew aside for a +moment, but what they said to each other only God knows. There is a +divine silence in forgiveness. When Peter first met Christ, after his +denial of Him, what did Peter say? What did Christ say? We are not told; +but great wrongs can be wiped out in one tender word, though such acts +in the drama of life are not translatable. It was different with +Macbeth. He greeted his guests with a proud and delightful extravagance. + +"You are welcome, '_Men of St. Andrews!_'" he cried; "you are tenfold +welcome!" And for the next five weeks he gave himself to entertaining +them in every possible way. The pretty Spanish wife was shy and +reticent, but her three sons spoke for her, and Donald was evidently the +idol of his house and in all his surroundings prosperous and happy. + +Jessy Caird, however, had failed and faded physically more than she +ought to have done, so Ian was not slow to take the first opportunity of +speaking confidentially to her. She was sitting just within the open +door of her bungalow. Her eyes were closed, her work had fallen from her +hands, and there was no book of any kind within her reach. Ian wondered +at these things. Jessy doing nothing! Jessy without a book! What could +be the meaning of it? + +She opened her eyes as she heard his approach, and said with a smile, +"You are walking like your old self, Ian, but for all that sit down by +me." + +"That is what I am here for. I want to talk with you, and with you only. +My dear sister, you look sick--or very unhappy. Which is it?" + +"Ian, I am both sick and unhappy. In the first place, I am heartbroken +for my native land. I want to see once more the green, green straths of +Scotland--the green straths with a haze of bluebells over them! I want +the gray, soft skies and the little silvery showers that blessed both +humanity and nature with constant freshness. And O Ian, I want, I want, +I want the living tongue of running water! Do you mind that, in all the +summers we spent in Arran, we could not go anywhere on the island and +lose the happy sound of running water? Do you mind how the waters leaped +from rock to rock, and thundered down the craggy glens, and then went +singing and gurgling along the roadside? Ian, Ian, take me home! I want +to die in my own country!" + +"_Die!_ Nonsense, Jessy! You must live for others even if you want to +die. I need you. You must go back to Scotland and help me. I have told +you of the great work my uncle and I are planning. We cannot do without +you." + +Her face brightened, there was a smile in her eyes, and she looked +eagerly at Ian as he continued: + +"It would make you heartsick to see that fine house in the Square going +to destruction. The Major's heart and head are in the building of the +church, and the servant men are neglecting everything beneath their +hands." + +"It serves him right. The Major was set on having only servant men. +Three or four tidy women would have----" + +"To be sure. We shall soon get rid of the men when you and I get home." + +"What are you meaning, Ian? Speak straight." + +"I am going to live with my uncle. He is an old man and needs me." + +"Stuff and nonsense! He will never need either you or anybody else. You +may need him." + +"I need him now, Jessy. He is mainly building the church. His heart and +soul are in it. He has given up practically his large business." + +"Given up his business! What does the man mean?" + +"He is only retaining the charge of three estates until the heirs come +of age. He promised to do that, and does not feel it right to break a +promise made to the dead." + +"Well, then, a man may live decently from three estates." + +"Jessy, we have laid out together such a great and good work, but +without your help we cannot carry it forward. We must have some good +woman to look after our food and our home. We are counting on you, and +you must stand by us." + +"I will go with you gladly. I will soon put a stop to the wastrie and +pilfering going on in the Major's house; and I will take good care of +you two feckless, helpless men--but I am your sister, Ian; I must look +to my position." + +"You are right. You will be mistress. You will stand at my right hand, +as you always did; and the Major said you were to have 'your will and +want and wish,' whatever it was. Jessy, you are going _home_." + +"How soon, Ian?" + +"Any mail may bring me word to hurry back to Scotland. I feel that I +ought to be there now. Get ready for an early journey." + +In less than two weeks the expected letter, urging Ian's early return, +came; and Ian and Jessy set their faces Scotlandward the next day; but +Dr. Lindsey resolved to stay another month and see more of a country so +wonderfully fresh and interesting. Jessy went away very quietly, and it +struck Ian she was glad when the parting was over; and she acknowledged +that in a certain way she was so. + +"I was that feared I would die there," she said, "and I could not keep +the little Border graveyard out of my thoughts. My kindred for three +hundred years lie there, and I wanted to take my last rest among them." +This feeling would be to an American an unthinkable source of anxiety, +but to the Scotch man or woman it would be a real and potent promoter of +the feeling. For they cherish the memory of their fathers--good or +bad--and there burns alive in them a sense of identity with the dead, +even to the twentieth generation. Ian thoroughly understood Jessy's +worry and respected her for it. + +"You should have written to me, Jessy. A word concerning your fear would +have brought me to you at any time. Why did you think of dying? Were you +not well treated?" + +"I could not have been better treated. I was close to Donald's heart, +the children loved me, and Macbeth wanted me to be his wife." + +"And Mercedes?" + +"Perhaps not so much. She was a wonderfully jealous little woman. She +did not like Donald or the children or her father to be long in my +company. She did her best to conquer the feeling, but how could she with +centuries of Castilian blood in her veins? It was my own fault if I was +not happy, but the longing for Scotland was above all other desires. I +had too little to do. I wanted some work that was _my_ work. No one can +be content without it." + +"The children are fine boys." + +"Yes--do you remember the morning you would not hear of their father +going either to the army or navy? You said he was the only Macrae to +keep up the name of the family, and forthwith sent him to a desk in +Reid's shipping office. You have four grandsons now, three of them +Macraes. You see God knew, if you could only have trusted Him. What is +the Major's worry now?" + +"He has a hankering after a pulpit. I do not want one." + +"But will your creed be respectable without a pulpit?" + +"I have no creed." + +"Ian!" + +"Except the commandment that we love God and do unto others as we would +like them to do unto us. Love is the fulfilling of the whole law. If +this creed does not satisfy you, Jessy----" + +"Oh, you know, Ian, I can abandon my creed at any time, but I shall +carry my prejudices into eternity." + +Thus discussing, in Jessy's various moods, their old religious +differences, they came finally to the end of their journey, and found +the Major waiting to receive them at the Buchanan Street railway +station. He had ordered a feast to honor their arrival, and the men who +prepared it--not knowing for whom it was prepared--cooked it badly and +served it in slovenly fashion. The next morning they all went away +forever, and three clever, active girls reigned in their stead. Then +Jessy, the happy-tempered bringer of the best out of the worst, was +satisfied; and the Major knew he would have a home to live in, and Ian, +always fastidiously fond of order and quiet, was sure his domestic life +would fill every necessity of his public work. + +This work was progressing in spite of various delays, and at the end of +the following year the beautiful building was fully ready for use. It +was filled as soon as opened. Doubtless, curiosity had something to do +with the crowded services; yet Ian was already much beloved among all +classes and conditions of men and women, for the love of God, which +filled and influenced his whole life, attracted to him the love of all +who met him. Many remembered him as a haughty cleric, full of learning, +and not very approachable, even to his own congregation. But this new +Ian was always smiling and kindly, ready to cure the wounded and heal +the sick and to give with love and sympathy all the consolations that +flow from the reality of heavenly things. + +The opening of the new church was a great day in Glasgow. There was not +even standing room for one more worshiper, and when Ian saw a large +contingent from the old Church of the Disciples present he was very +happy. And as he looked at them his face shone with love and they saw it +as the face of a Man of God. Tender and inspiring was the sermon he +preached that day, and one sentence in it went--no one knew how--the +length and breadth of Scotland. Yea, before it had been spoken half an +hour there came to him testimony that it had begun its mission. For, as +he was walking leisurely down Sanchiehall Street, Bailie Muir, an old +class-mate at St. Andrews, joined him. + +"O man! man!" he cried in an exultant voice, "I bless you for some words +you said to-day! I have been longing to hear them, though I knew not +until this morning what I wanted." + +"And you know now, Bailie?" + +"Yes. You said that we came here to _work out_ our salvation with fear +and trembling. Listen! You said, '_Immortality is an achievement!_ It is +not a favor, not a gift, not a selection, not a chance; it is something +we must work for--something we must win. _Immortality is an +achievement!_' Are these words true?" + +"They are faithful and true words. Come home with me and we will talk +them over." + +Thus out of the old paths and into the brighter new ones this great +heart led his people. By day or night he knew no weariness in +well-doing. His loving kindness was a constant over-flowing of self on +others--a heavenly thing, springing from the soul just at that point +where the divine image is nearest and clearest. + +Do you ask if he is preaching to-day? It is not impossible. Yet my +feeling is that by the full employment of a holy life he arrived some +years ago at maturity for death. Such a man could not linger too long on +the Border Land. Christ himself would speak the _compelle intrare_, +"Enter! Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!" + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Playing With Fire, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 36538-8.txt or 36538-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/5/3/36538/ + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Barr. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + .poem span.i16 {display: block; margin-left: 16em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i24 {display: block; margin-left: 24em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Playing With Fire, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Playing With Fire + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Illustrator: Howard Heath + +Release Date: June 27, 2011 [EBook #36538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE *** + + + + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>PLAYING WITH FIRE</h1> + +<h2>BY AMELIA E. BARR</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF "ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE," "THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON," ETC.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Truth is like water; the moment it stands it</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>stagnates; creeds are merely stagnant truth.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY<br /> +HOWARD HEATH</h3> + +<h3>WILLIAM BRIGGS<br /> +TORONTO<br /> +1914</h3> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1914, by</span><br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</h3> + +<h3>Printed in the United States of America</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>WITH SINCERE RESPECT AND EVERY GOOD WISH<br /> +I INSCRIBE THIS NOVEL<br /> +TO<br /> +WILLIAM JOHN MATHESON, ESQ.<br /> +OF HUNTINGTON, LONG ISLAND</h3> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus1" id="illus1"></a> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> +<h3>"'Good-bye, Richard!' she cried. 'Good-bye, dearest of all!'"]</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. <span class="smcap">The Minister's Family</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. <span class="smcap">Lord Richard Cramer</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. <span class="smcap">Donald Pleases His Father</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. <span class="smcap">The Great Temptation</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. <span class="smcap">The Minister in Love</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. <span class="smcap">Donald Takes His Own Way</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. <span class="smcap">Marion Decides</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. <span class="smcap">Macrae Learns a Hard Lesson</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. <span class="smcap">When Will the Night Be Past?</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. <span class="smcap">A Dream</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. <span class="smcap">Love Is the Fulfilling of the Law</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. <span class="smcap">Afterward</span></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p><a href="#illus1">"'Good-bye, Richard!' she cried. 'Good-bye, dearest of all!'"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus2">"There came again to her that singular sense of a past familiarity"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus3">"She smiled and laid her jeweled white hand confidingly on his"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus4">"The descent seemed steep and dark"</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>PLAYING WITH FIRE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE MINISTER'S FAMILY</h3> + +<blockquote><p>An high priest clothed with doctrine and with truth.—<span class="smcap">Esdras I</span>: +5:40.</p></blockquote> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Glasgow is the city of Human Power. It is not a beautiful city, but the +gray granite of which it is built gives it a natural nobility. There is +nothing romantic about its situation, and its streets are too often +steeped in wet, gray mist, or wrapped in yellowish vapor. But there are +no loungers in them. The crowd is a busy, hard-working crowd, whose +civic motto is Enterprise and Perseverance. They made the river that +made the city, and then established on its banks those immense +shipbuilding yards, whose fleets take the river to the ocean, and the +ocean to every known port of the world.</p> + +<p>It is also a very religious city. Its inhabitants do not forget that +they are mortals, though no doubt mortals of a superior order, and the +number of churches they have built is amazing. It is impossible to walk +far in any direction without coming face to face with one. I am writing +of the midway years of the nineteenth century, when there was one church +among the many that all strangers were advised to visit. It was not the +Cathedral, nor the old Ram's Horn Kirk; it was a large, plain building, +called the Church of the Disciples. No one could find it to-day, for it +stood upon a corner that became necessary to the trade of a certain +great street. Then the Church of the Disciples disappeared, and handsome +shops devoted to business of many kinds rose in its place.</p> + +<p>This church derived its fame from its minister, a very handsome man, of +great scholarly attainments and a preponderance of that quality we call +"presence." Even when at twenty-three years of age he stepped from the +halls of St. Andrew's into the pulpit of the Church of the Disciples, +elders, deacons, and the whole congregation succumbed to his influence. +And when, after twenty-one years of service, he made his dramatic exit +from that pulpit he still held his congregation in the hollow of his +hand.</p> + +<p>He was a Highlander of the once powerful house of Macrae; tall among his +brethren as was Saul among his people. His face was darkly handsome, and +made doubly attractive by a shadowy Celtic pathos. His eyes were +piercing but sad, his voice grand and resonant, suiting well the +wrathful, impassioned Calvinism of his sermons. For he was a Pharisee +of Pharisees touching every tittle of the law laid down by that troubler +of mankind called John Calvin.</p> + +<p>One evening in the beginning of June he went to his home after a rather +unimportant session with his elders. He had taken his own way as usual, +and was not in the least moved by the slight opposition he had been +compelled to silence. With a slow, stately step he walked up the wide +spaces of Bath Street until he came to the handsome residence in which +he dwelt. He had no time to open the door; it was gently set wide by a +girl who stood just within its shelter. A tinge of pleasure came into +the minister's face, and when she said in a low, sweet voice:</p> + +<p>"<i>Father!</i>" he answered her in one word full of tenderness:</p> + +<p>"<i>Marion!</i>"</p> + +<p>They went into the parlor together. It was the ordinary parlor of its +day, inartistic and comfortably ugly, but withal suitable and pleasant +to the generation, who found in it their ideal of "home." A Brussels +carpet covered the floor, the furniture was of mahogany upholstered in +black horse-hair cloth. There were crimson damask curtains at the +windows, a crimson cloth on the large center table, and a soft large rug +before the bright steel grate, which held a handful of fire, though it +was a fine day in the early part of June. The chimneypiece was of dark +marble; on it there were two bronze figures and a handsome clock, above +it a very large picture of Queen Victoria's coronation. It was a parlor +duplicated in every respectable residence. Such rooms were comfortable +and serviceable and very suitable to the big men who occupied them.</p> + +<p>The minister felt its pleasant "use and wont," and with a sigh of relief +took the easy-chair his daughter drew to the fireside. Then she brought +him a glass of water and his slippers, went for the mail which had come +during his absence, lit the gas, and in many other ways fluttered so +lovingly about him that it was amazing he hardly seemed to notice her +affectionate service. An American father would have drawn the girl to +his side, given her sweet words and tender kisses, and doubtless Dr. +Macrae felt all the affection necessary for this result, but he had +never seen fathers pet their daughters, never been told to do so, had no +precedents to go by, and, on the contrary, had been constantly +instructed both by precept and example that women were not "to be put +too much forward, or given too much praise." Service was the duty of the +women in any household, and men were born with the expectation of it in +their blood. So Dr. Macrae watched and felt and admired and loved, but +made no attempt to express his feelings, and Marion did not expect it.</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae had lifted a paper, but he soon laid it down, and asked +impatiently: "Marion, where is Aunt Jessy?"</p> + +<p>"She will be here anon, Father—here she comes!" and at the words a +little woman wearing a gray dress, a white lace tippet, and a small +white lace cap, set with pink bows, entered. She was rather pretty, and +sweet and homely as honey. A maid carrying the simple supper of the +family accompanied her. Dr. Macrae looked at her pleasantly, and she +said:</p> + +<p>"Well, Ian!"</p> + +<p>That was all, until the boiled oatmeal and milk, and the toasted cakes +and cheese were spread upon the table. But as soon as the minister had +his plate of boiled oatmeal and his glass of milk before him, she +continued:</p> + +<p>"You are a bit late home to-night, Ian. I was wondering about it."</p> + +<p>"There was a useless kind of session—much talking about nothing."</p> + +<p>"Men must talk, especially when they are in session for that purpose. +What were they talking about?"</p> + +<p>"Many usual things, rather unusually, about the Bible."</p> + +<p>"What for were they meddling with the Book? They were hearing it, or +reading it, all day yesterday."</p> + +<p>"They were discussing the buying of a new Bible for the Church. Deacon +Laird proposed it. He said he had been noticing for a long time that the +pulpit Bible was frizzled and worn, and the cushion much faded; both of +them looking as they should not look in the Church of the Disciples."</p> + +<p>"And what words did you give them?"</p> + +<p>"I let them talk among themselves, until Elder Black said he knew a +place where a large Bible could be got at a very cheap figure, likewise +the cushion, and he would take time to ask the selling price of the same +this week."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I said then: 'Elder, you will keep your silence concerning a cheap +Bible. I'll have no cheap Bible in my pulpit. You are grudging nothing +of the best for all your private necessities, and you will buy the House +of God what is fitting for it.'"</p> + +<p>"You spoke well. Now they will be looking for the best Bible in +Scotland. But what for did Deacon Laird raise that question, when the +congregation, in its most respectable part, is going down the water for +the summer months?"</p> + +<p>"He is young, and only just elected, and he was trying to do something +that none of the other deacons had thought of. That is my surmise. If I +wrong the man, I ask pardon."</p> + +<p>"He will have to pay for his bit of forwardness. The others will see to +it that he backs his proposal with his money."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae made no further remark on the subject. He took from his +pocket a letter and said: "I had a few lines from Lady Cramer, and she +tells me that the Little House will be unoccupied this summer. Some +unforeseen circumstances preventing Lady Kitty Baird's family visiting +her, she offers it to me for four or five months. If you could pack your +clothes to-morrow, you might remove there on Wednesday or Thursday, and, +by taking the train from Edinburgh, you would reach Cramer early in the +afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that Marion and I are to go there?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"O Father, how very delightful! I am so happy!"</p> + +<p>"It is a pretty place. I saw it when I was last at Cramer. Also, it is +near the sea. You will like that, Marion."</p> + +<p>"We will both of us like it, Ian. I shall be glad to be near the hills +and the sea, and Marion is needing a change. But, Ian, you will have to +consider that, if we are going—in a manner—as Lady Cramer's friends or +guests, Marion will be asked—at odd times—to the Hall, and she must +have one or two frocks, and other things in accordance."</p> + +<p>"Marion can go to Stuart and McDonald's and get whatever she wants."</p> + +<p>Then Marion lifted her eyes and met her father's eyes, and she smiled +and nodded; and, though no word was spoken, both were well satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Now," continued Dr. Macrae, "I am going to my study to read. You will +have plenty to talk about. I should only be in your way."</p> + +<p>"Bide a minute, Ian; what about the servant lasses? You cannot shut up +this house. Donald—poor lad—must have some place to lay his head, and +eat his bread."</p> + +<p>"I suppose there are servants in the Little House. Lady Cramer said you +would require to bring nothing but your clothing. All else was +provided."</p> + +<p>"I will have my own servant girls, or none at all."</p> + +<p>"Will you be requiring more than one? You might take Aileen, and leave +Janet here to look after myself and Donald."</p> + +<p>"If that pleases you, I'll make it suit me."</p> + +<p>"Think, and talk over the matter. You will know your wish better in the +morning. Good night."</p> + +<p>The salutation was general, but he looked at Marion, and she answered +the look in a way he understood and approved. Then Mistress Caird +disappeared for half an hour, and when she returned to the parlor +Marion had completed her shopping list.</p> + +<p>"Aunt," she said, as she fluttered the bit of paper, "I have made out my +list. I want so many things, I fear the bill will be very large."</p> + +<p>"You need take no thought about the bill, dear. It will be a means of +grace for your father to pay it. It is very seldom he has a fit of the +liberalities. Teach him to open his hand now and then. A shut hand is a +shut heart."</p> + +<p>"But he was so prompt and kind about it. He never curtailed me in any +way. It is mean to take advantage of his trust and generosity."</p> + +<p>"You have to be mean to make men generous. You must keep your father's +hand open. Let me see your list."</p> + +<p>She read it with a smile, and then, laughing gaily, said: "Well, Marion, +if this is your idea of fine dressing, it is a very primitive one. You +must have at least one silk dress, and what about gloves and satin +slippers and silk stockings to wear with them? And you will require a +spangled fan, and satin sashes, and bits of lace, and there's no mention +of hats or parasols. It is a fragmentary document, Marion, and I am sure +you had better begin it over again, with Jessy Caird to help you."</p> + +<p>When this revision had been made, Marion was still more disturbed. "It +does seem too much, Aunt," she said. "I cannot treat Father in this +way. It is mean."</p> + +<p>"Now I will tell you something. I maybe ought to have told you before. +Listen! You are spending your own money, not his. Your mother left you +all she had, and got your father's promise to give you the interest of +it for your private spending, as soon as your school days were over. She +knew you would then be wanting this and that, and perhaps not be liking +to ask for it. Your father is just giving you your own. Spend it wisely, +and I have no doubt he will continue to give it to you at regular +periods."</p> + +<p>"That makes things different. My mother! Did I ever see her?"</p> + +<p>"She died when you were two days old. She saw you. From her breast I +took you to my heart, and I have loved you, Marion, as my own child."</p> + +<p>"I am your own child, Aunt. I love you with all my heart. Why did you +never talk to me of my mother before?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is always wise to let the Past alone. Give all your heart +and sense to the Priceless Present. You have nothing to do with the +unborn To-morrow or the dead Yesterday."</p> + +<p>"But my mother——"</p> + +<p>"Some day I'll tell you all about her. Did you notice how unconcerned +your father was regarding the house, and the servant girls—and your +brother, also?"</p> + +<p>"He advised us to take one girl and leave the other here. You said 'Yes' +to that proposal, Aunt."</p> + +<p>"He took me unawares. I shall say 'No' to it to-morrow. Men have an idea +that a house takes care of itself, that servants work naturally, and +that dinners are bought ready cooked. He knew enough, however, to choose +the best of the two girls to stay here. I am going to take both of them +with me. I will not be beholden to my Lady for servants, not I! I shall +send for old Maggie in the morning; she can look after the house and the +two men in it—fine!"</p> + +<p>"I wish Donald could go with us."</p> + +<p>"If he could, your father would not let him. He is very angry with +Donald, these six months past."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"He wanted him to go to St. Andrews to prepare for the ministry, and the +lad, who usually keeps his own good sense to the fore, forgot himself +and told his father—his father, mind you!—that he would 'not preach +Calvinism' if he got 'the city of Glasgow for doing it.' And the +minister was angry, and Donald got dour and then said a few words he +should not have said to anybody in a Calvinist minister's presence."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He said he did not believe in Election. He said every soul was elect; +that even in hell Dives held fast to the fatherhood of God, and God +called Dives 'son.' He said Religion was not a creed, it was a Life, and +moreover, he said, Calvinism was a wall between the soul and God, and +what use was there in hewing out roads to a wall?"</p> + +<p>"Poor Father! Donald should not have said such things in his presence. +No, he should not! I am angry at Donald for doing so."</p> + +<p>"Well, the Macrae was aboon the Reverend that day. He was white angry. +He could not, he did not dare to, open his mouth. He just set the door +wide, and ordered Donald out with a wave of his hand."</p> + +<p>"Poor Donald! That was hard, too."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the Macraes are always</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——'hard to themselves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And worse to their foes.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Donald just came to my room, and I left him alone to cry his young heart +out. But my heart was, and is, with Donald. He is man grown, and he has +a right to have his own opinions."</p> + +<p>"Maybe so, Aunt. But he should not throw his opinions like a stone in +Father's face."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'll do the same some day."</p> + +<p>"Me! Never! Never!"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear that."</p> + +<p>"How came Donald to go to Reed and McBryne's shipping office?"</p> + +<p>"He spent the next few days miserably. He did not see his father save at +meal times, and the two of them never opened their mouths. So I said one +morning, 'A new housekeeper will be necessary here, for I will not eat +my bread like a dumb beast a day longer.' Then the mail brought the news +of the break-up in your school, and your father said to me as soon as we +were by ourselves, 'Jessy, you must see that Marion's room is made +pretty. She is a young lady now, and, if anything is needing, get it.'"</p> + +<p>"That was like Father's thoughtfulness."</p> + +<p>"The thought was not all for you. There were other serious +considerations, and he was keeping them in mind. I looked straight in +his face and asked, 'What are you going to do about Donald's future?' He +said, 'I do not know'; and I answered, 'You must find out, for, if I +stay here, something must be done for Donald this day, and I will not +require to tell you this again, Ian.'"</p> + +<p>"O Aunt! how could you speak, or even think, of leaving us? What would I +do here, wanting you?"</p> + +<p>"You did not have to want me, child, and I knew that. At the dinner hour +your father laid down his knife and fork in the middle of the dessert, +and said, 'Donald, you will go in the morning to Reed and McBryne's +shipping office. I have got you a clerkship there. The salary is small, +but your home will be here, and you will have few and trifling +expenses.'"</p> + +<p>"What answer did Donald make?"</p> + +<p>"He was red with passion when his father finished speaking, and he +answered quickly, 'I will not be a shipping clerk. No, sir! I will take +the Queen's shilling and go to the army. Macraes have ever been +fighters. I want no pen. I will have a sword. How can you ask me to be a +clerk, Father? It is cruel! Too cruel!'"</p> + +<p>"Poor Donald!"</p> + +<p>"I think his father felt as much as he did. He could not speak until he +saw the lad move his chair from the table. Then, in a very moderate +voice, he said, 'Stay, Donald, and listen to me. Honor as well as +prudence forbids you the army. You are the last male of our family, +except your aged uncle and myself. Its continuation rests with you. It +is a duty you would be a kind of traitor to ignore. After me, you are +<i>the</i> Macrae. I know the world thinks little of the dead Highland clans, +but we think none the less of ourselves because of the world's +indifference. You will be <i>the</i> Macrae; you must marry, and raise up +sons to keep the name alive. You cannot go to the army. You cannot put +your life constantly in jeopardy. Until something more to your liking +turns up, go to Reed and McBryne's. It is better than moping idly about +the house.'"</p> + +<p>"I think Father was right, Aunt."</p> + +<p>"Donald did not think so. He left the table without a word, but I could +see his father had fathomed him, and found out one weak spot. For as +soon as he said, 'You will be <i>the</i> Macrae,' I saw the light that +flashed into Donald's eyes, and the way in which he straightened himself +to his full height. Then, bowing, he left the room without a yea or nay +in his mouth. Immediately afterward he left the house, but he did not +stay long, and then I had a straight talk with him. I knew where he had +been in the interval."</p> + +<p>"Where could he go but to you?"</p> + +<p>"He has a friend."</p> + +<p>"Matthew Ballantyne."</p> + +<p>"Just so. The lads love each other, and they are both daft about the +same thing—a violin. He went to Matthew, and Matthew told him to humor +his father and bide his time, and he would get his own way in the long +run."</p> + +<p>"Did that please you, Aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it makes my work easy. And I am going to be good to the lads. I am +going to tell Maggie to make them nice little suppers, and let them play +till midnight, while we are at Cramer Brae. That night you were at the +Lindseys' and your father at Stirling, I had them to supper. There was +three of them, one being a violinist in Menzie's orchestra. He was a few +years older than Donald and Matthew, but just as foolish as they were. +And after their merry meal they played the heart out of me."</p> + +<p>"O Aunt! Aunt! I shall have to stop at home and watch you. The idea of +you standing for Donald behind Father's back in this way. I would not +have believed it. You must love Donald."</p> + +<p>"What for wouldn't I love him? He is most entirely lovable, and when I +love I like to show it—to do foolish things to show it—ordinary things +are not worth as much."</p> + +<p>"I would not have thought it. You, so proper and respectable, making a +feast for three young men, who played the heart out of you with their +violins!"</p> + +<p>"Poor Donald has not a violin of his own, yet he plays better than +Matthew or the orchestra lad. How it comes I cannot tell, but he does, +and there's no 'ifs' or 'ands' about it."</p> + +<p>"Are violins dear things, Aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Too dear for Donald to buy, and he dare not ask his father for money to +buy a violin. Yes, Marion, violins cost a lot of money."</p> + +<p>"You say I have some money of my own."</p> + +<p>"What by that? You shall not ware it on a violin. Donald's violin will +come its own road, and that will not be out of your purse. There's the +clock striking twelve. Whatever are we doing here? I must have lost my +senses to be keeping you."</p> + +<p>"Don't mind an hour or two, Aunt. This has been the most wonderful night +to me. You have spoken of my mother. I have had an invitation to Lady +Cramer's. I have heard that I am, in a small way, an heiress. I have +learned all about the trouble between Father and Donald. I have made out +the list for a far finer wardrobe than I ever expected to own. I am +sorry this wonderful day is over."</p> + +<p>"But it is over, and it is now Tuesday. It will be Saturday before we +can be ready for Cramer Brae. You must stay here until your new frocks +are fitted, and that will make us Saturday. Now sleep well, for I shall +have you called at seven sharp."</p> + +<p>As Mrs. Caird anticipated, it was Saturday afternoon when they arrived +at Cramer Brae. The Cramer carriage was waiting to take them to the +Little House, which was more than a mile inland. It stood on the Brae at +the foot of the hills, and was shielded on the east and west by large +beech trees. The hills were behind, the sea in front of it, and when the +wind was lulled, or from the south, the roar and the beat of its waves +were distinctly heard.</p> + +<p>It was a long, low house. The leaded, diamond-shaped windows opened like +doors on their hinges, and flower boxes, drooping vines and blooms were +on every sill. Gardens and lawns, with a little paddock for the ponies +to run in, covered the six acres of land surrounding it. Marion was +delighted. "Here we shall be so happy, Aunt," she cried in a voice full +of sweet inflections, for she was thanking God in her heart for bringing +her to such a beautiful spot.</p> + +<p>Aileen and Kitty met them at the door and tea was waiting in the small +dining-room. There was a low bowl of pansies in the center of the table, +which was set with cream Wedgwood and silver of the date of Queen Anne. +Every necessity and every luxury for the hour were there, and a +wonderful peace brooded over all things.</p> + +<p>Marion was enchanted. "This place must be like Heaven," she said; and +Mrs. Caird answered, "I hope you are right. I cannot imagine any +circumstances much pleasanter. We may thank God even for this cup of +young Pekoe and thick cream, and delicate bread and fresh butter. They +are just a part of the whole blessing. I have heard of a great English +writer who thought that among many higher pleasures we should not miss +the homely delicacies of our earthly table. I hope we shall not. I +would like a little of earth in heaven; it might be as good to us as is +a little of heaven on earth. Why not? All God's gifts are blessed, if we +bless Him for them."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Father and Donald will have a good tea?"</p> + +<p>"I'll warrant you. Maggie knows all your father's ways and +likings—queer and otherwise. He would want a bit of broiled fish, or +the like of it. I don't think you or I would care for hot meat now."</p> + +<p>"What could be nicer than this cold, tender chicken?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, but men are keen for something hot. They don't feel as if they +were fed, wanting the taste and smell of fresh-cooked flesh—of one kind +or another."</p> + +<p>"Donald promised me he would keep straight with Father, if possible."</p> + +<p>"Whiles it is not possible to do that—but he made me the same promise, +and he'll keep it, if his father will let him."</p> + +<p>"Father is not at all quarrelsome, Aunt."</p> + +<p>"Isn't he, dear? I'm very glad to hear it."</p> + +<p>"You ought to know, Aunt; you have lived with him for——"</p> + +<p>"Nearly eighteen years, and I am not settled in my mind yet on that +subject."</p> + +<p>"If people attack Father's creed, it is right for him to be angry. +Donald ought to have kept his opinions to himself."</p> + +<p>"That is the hardest kind of work, Marion. I know, for I've been trying +to do it ever since you were born. Yes, Marion, I have, and it is hard +work to-day."</p> + +<p>"What makes you try it, Aunt?"</p> + +<p>"The same reason as stirs Donald up."</p> + +<p>"Calvinism?"</p> + +<p>"Just Calvinism."</p> + +<p>"But you are a Calvinist?"</p> + +<p>"Not I! No, indeed! But when I came here to take care of Donald and +yourself I promised Jessy Caird never to bring that subject to dispute. +I knew, if I did, I would have to leave you, and I thought more of you +two children than of any creed in Christendom."</p> + +<p>"What creed do you like, Aunt?"</p> + +<p>"I was christened and confirmed in the English Church and I love it with +a great love; but I'm loving Donald and you far better—<i>and her that's +gone</i>—and, if the Syrian was to be forgiven for worshiping out of his +own temple for his Master's sake, I think Mother Church will forgive me +for loving two motherless children more than her liturgy."</p> + +<p>"Did Father never ask you if you would like to go to St. Mary's and hear +your own prayers? They are very fine prayers. I have heard them, for +when I was at school Miss Lamont took us sometimes on Sunday afternoons +to the English Church."</p> + +<p>"You are right, but I would not name Miss Lamont's freedom before your +father. I never talk on this subject to him; if I did, we would be +passing disagreeable words in ten minutes. For your sakes, I go +cheerfully to the Calvinistic kirk every Sabbath, and nobody but your +father and myself has known that my soul was Armenian, and hated a +Calvinist even in its most charitable hours."</p> + +<p>"What is an Armenian?"</p> + +<p>"St. Paul was an Armenian, and St. Augustine, and Luther, and John +Wesley, and all the millions that follow their teaching. I am not +ashamed of my faith. I am going to heaven in the best of good company. +But what for are we talking this happy hour of Calvinism? We ought to +let weary dogs lie, and there are few wearier ones than Calvinism."</p> + +<p>"I like to talk of it, Aunt. I want to know all about it."</p> + +<p>"Then talk to the Minister. Here are mountains and trees and flowers of +every kind. Here are birds singing as if they never would grow old, and +winds streaming out of the hills cool as living waters, and wafting into +us scents that tell the soul they come from heaven. Oh, my dear Marion, +let us enjoy God's good gifts and be thankful."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to unpack the trunks to-night, Aunt?"</p> + +<p>"No. Aileen and Kitty would have a conscience ache if we did anything +not necessary so near the Sabbath Day. We must respect their feelings. +Aileen is very strict in her religion. I am tired, and am going to lie +down for an hour, and you can wander about and please yourself. Go into +the garden. I wouldn't wonder if you had a few pleasant surprises."</p> + +<p>So Marion went into the garden, leaving the old house until she had a +whole day to give it. She went among the rose trellises first. The roses +were just budding—gold and pink and white. What a wonder of roses there +would be in a week or two! The pansy beds were another marvel. Such +pansies she had never before seen, for they represented all that the +highest culture could do for size and coloring. Sweet old-fashioned +flowers and flowering shrubs like lad's love were everywhere, and a +little green carpet of camomile was spread in the center of the place +for the fairies. Not far from it was a great bed of lavender and thyme, +a special gift to the honeybees, who lived in the pretty antique straw +skeps near it. Heavily laden with honey, hundreds of bees were flying +slowly home to them, and the misty air was full of an odor from the +hives that stirred something at the very roots of her being. She stood +lost in thought before the skeps and the returning bees, and as she drew +great breaths of the scented air she whispered to herself, "Where and +when have I seen this very picture before?"</p> + +<p>Until the twilight deepened and a gray mist from the sea blended with it +she sat thinking of many things. Life had been so vivid to her during +the past week. She felt as if she had never lived before, and it was not +until all was shadowy and indistinct that she remembered her aunt had +warned her to come into the house before the dew fell and the sea mist +rolled inland.</p> + +<p>Turning hurriedly, she was about to obey this order when she heard +footsteps on the flagged sidewalk running along the front of the house. +She stood still and listened. Perhaps it was Donald. No, the steps were +not like Donald's, they were firmer and faster, and had a military ring +in them. She was standing under a large silver-leafed birch tree, and +not visible from the sidewalk, yet, by stepping a little further into +its shadow, she thought she could satisfy her curiosity. However, she +could see nothing but a tall figure, hastening through the gathering +gloom and looking neither to the right nor to the left. But for the +footsteps, the figure passed silently and swiftly as a bird through the +gray mist. Its sudden appearance and disappearance impressed her +powerfully, and then there came again to her that singular sense of a +past familiarity. "I have stood in a garden watching that figure before. +Where was it? Who is he?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"There came again to her that singular sense of a past +familiarity"</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>She was disturbed by the recurrence of the influence, and she went with +rapid steps into the house. Mrs. Caird was coming to meet her. "Marion," +she said, "I have slept past my intentions. Where have you been? It is +too late for you to be outside. Come into the house and shut the door."</p> + +<p>"I was walking in the garden. You told me to do so."</p> + +<p>"Go now to the parlor and sit down. I will be with you directly."</p> + +<p>But Marion knew that her aunt's "directly" had an elastic quality. It +might be half an hour, it might be much more. So she took a book of +poems from a bookcase hanging against the wall, saying to herself as she +did so: "Miss Lamont told me to commit to memory as much good poetry as +I could, because there came hours in every life when a verse learned, +perhaps twenty years before, would have its message and come back to us. +I suppose just as the bees and the man came back to me. I don't remember +where from."</p> + +<p>In less than an hour Mrs. Caird came into the parlor with a glass of +milk in her hand. "Drink it, Marion," she said, "and then go to your +sleep. You have surely worn the day threadbare by this time."</p> + +<p>"I was learning a few lines until you came to me. I want to tell you +something. When it was nearly dark, and I was coming to the house, a man +passed here."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder."</p> + +<p>"I thought at first it might be Donald."</p> + +<p>"You need not look for Donald. I have told you that before."</p> + +<p>"He was very tall. He walked like a soldier, and passed through the mist +like a darker shadow. He gave me a queer feeling."</p> + +<p>"Which way did he go?"</p> + +<p>"Straight past the house. When his feet touched the brae I lost his +footsteps. I saw him but a moment or two. He passed so quickly. It was +like a dream. I wonder who he was?"</p> + +<p>"Most likely the young Lord. Your father told me he might be at Cramer +Hall. He hoped not, but thought it more than possible. It will be the +right thing for him to keep shadowy and dreamlike. From what I have +heard of the young Lord, he is not proper company for any nice girl. The +old Lord—God rest his soul—was a very saint in his religion and a +wonderful scholar. Your father thought much of him, and he was never +weary of your father's company, and he left him, also, a good testimony +of his friendship in his will."</p> + +<p>"Then Father should not infer ill of his son."</p> + +<p>"Marion, men may be perfectly fit and proper for each other's company, +and very unfit for a nice girl to talk with. The young man has been six +or seven years in a regiment, but now that he has come to the estate and +title I dare say he will resign. He has to look after his stepmother and +the land, for I judge that she is but a young, canary-headed, +thoughtless creature."</p> + +<p>"Who said he wasn't good company for a nice girl?"</p> + +<p>"The Minister himself said it, and to me he said it. So, Marion, if you +should meet him, which I'm thinking is particularly likely, you must act +according to my report. 'He isn't proper company for a good girl,' that +is what the Minister said."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he is not a Calvinist," and Marion smiled, and Mrs. Caird tried +not to smile.</p> + +<p>"I don't want any complications," she continued, "so don't dream of him, +don't think of him, and don't have any queer feelings about him. Your +father will not have things go contrary to his plans, if he can help it, +and Lord Richard Cramer is not in his plans."</p> + +<p>"I know who is, Aunt, but he is not in my plans."</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"About Allan Reid. Oh, I know Father's plan. Allan is making love to me +whenever he can get a chance. And, if I go down town, I'm meeting him +round every corner. I know how Donald came to get into Reid and +McBryne's office."</p> + +<p>"If you know so much, why were you keeping so quiet about things?"</p> + +<p>"You were always telling me to keep my own counsel and share secrets +with nobody."</p> + +<p>"I was not including myself in that order."</p> + +<p>"Father cannot bend either Donald's or my life to his wish."</p> + +<p>"It is your life-long happiness and welfare he is planning for."</p> + +<p>"God will order my life. That will content me. And God would not want me +to marry Allan Reid, with his long neck and weak eyes, because I could +never love him, and I suppose you ought to love the man you marry."</p> + +<p>"I believe it is thought necessary by some people. Allan will have lots +of money, and in good time walk to the head of the biggest shipping +business in Glasgow. He is a religious young man, always in kirk when +kirktime comes, and I hear that he is also the cleverest of men in a +matter of business. He'll be the richest shipper in Glasgow some day."</p> + +<p>"I shall never marry for money. Never! Never!"</p> + +<p>"You'll never marry for money, won't you? Let me tell you, it is a far +better way of marrying, in general, than comes of vows and kisses and +all such gentle shepherding."</p> + +<p>"For all that, 'I will marry my own true love.'"</p> + +<p>"When he comes, young lady."</p> + +<p>"When he comes! I think he will not be long in coming now."</p> + +<p>"Go away to your sleep. You're just dreaming with your eyes open. Good +night, dear."</p> + +<p>"Good night; and 'I will marry my own true love,'" and, with the lilt on +her lips, she went singing to her room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Caird sat down, completely perplexed. "Here's a nice state of +affairs!" she mused. "I said but a few words about the young Lord, and, +out of a woman's pure contradiction, she instantly made a graven image +of him, and set him up in her mind to worship. She was ready, though she +never saw him, to defend him against her father's judgment. I could see +that plainly. What kind of a girl is this? Never a thought of love did I +give Andrew Caird until he said in so many words, 'Jessy, will you be my +wife?' Time enough then to begin the worshiping. Well, Ian is going to +have his hands and heart full with these two children, and I'll be +getting the blame of it. And, of course, I shall stand by both of them. +I kissed that promise on my dying sister's lips, and I wouldn't break it +for Lords, nor Commons, nor the General Assembly of the Kirk added to +them. I shall stand by both! There's no harm in Donald's opinions. I +hold the same myself, and, what's more, I always shall hold them. Fire +couldn't burn them out of me. As for Marion, if she wants to build her a +little romance, why should I hinder? The girl shall have her dream, if +it pleases her." Then she slowly went upstairs to her room, and the +Little House was still as a resting wheel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>LORD RICHARD CRAMER</h3> + +<blockquote><p>"Souls see each other at a glance, as two drops of rain might +look into each other, if they had life."</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The cause of love can never be assigned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not in the face, but in the mind."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>It was the Sabbath, and all its surroundings were steeped in that +wonderful Sabbath stillness that not even great cities are without. The +servants had put on with their kirk gowns the quiet movements they kept +for this day, and, as they noiselessly prepared the breakfast, they +talked softly to each other in monosyllables. Marion was used to this +formality, and indeed was herself involuntarily affected by it. She +stood hesitating on the doorsteps about a walk in the garden. Her feet +longed for the soft lawns and the flowery paths, but she had not escaped +the Sabbath thraldom of her house and native city.</p> + +<p>"It might be wrong," she mused, "perhaps I ought to go to God's house +and honor Him before all else. I must ask Aunt Jessy."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes she heard her aunt coming downstairs. Evidently Mrs. +Caird had forgotten that it was the Sabbath; she took the steps quickly, +with some noise, too, and her face was happy; indeed, she looked ready +to laugh.</p> + +<p>"This is a heavenly place!" she said cheerfully, "and here comes Kitty +with breakfast. There's no wonder you stand at the open door, Marion. +Look at that little summerhouse. It is covered with jasmine stars. If +you saw an angel resting in it, you would not be astonished."</p> + +<p>"I was longing to walk in the garden."</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"It is the Sabbath."</p> + +<p>"All days are Sabbath to the grateful heart."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but this is the Kirk Day, and I was wondering how we were to get +there. Aileen says it is near two miles away. I can walk two miles, but +you——"</p> + +<p>"I can walk as well as you can, but I'm not going to try it. I'm not +going to the Kirk at all to-day—walking or riding."</p> + +<p>"Not going to Kirk, Aunt!"</p> + +<p>"No. I have made up my mind to have one long, sweet, quiet day, and to +keep it with none present but God. As soon as I opened my eyes this +morning I heard larks singing up to the very gate of heaven. I saw one +rise from the brae just outside. I'll warrant you his nest was there. +Marion, he was worshiping before any of our Glasgow burghers were out of +their beds. I sent a prayer up with his song. God bless the bird!"</p> + +<p>"What will Father say?"</p> + +<p>"Just what he wants to say. I'll not hinder him. When you have eaten +your breakfast go into the garden and say a prayer among the flowers. +You'll be in one of God's own kirks. Open all your heart to Him."</p> + +<p>"And you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be mostly in my room. It is long, long years since I had a Sunday +that rested me. I have made up my soul and my heart to have one this +day."</p> + +<p>"And Aileen and Kitty?"</p> + +<p>"They can walk to the Kirk. It will do them good. A mile or two is +nothing."</p> + +<p>"I heard Aileen say there was a Victoria and a light wagon in the +carriage house, and she supposed the wagon would be for the servants."</p> + +<p>"It may be so and it may not. I heard nothing about vehicles, and I am +not going to discuss them in any kind or manner. The girls can walk to +Kirk if they want to go; if not, they can bide in their place here. And +I'll tell them that plainly, as soon as I have finished my breakfast."</p> + +<p>It is likely Mrs. Caird kept her word; for Sunday's dinner, always +prepared on Saturday, was laid on the table immediately after breakfast +and then the girls disappeared, and were not seen until it was time to +prepare supper. They looked dissatisfied and disappointed, and Aileen +admitted they were so.</p> + +<p>"Cramer Kirk is a poor little place," she said, "and the Minister no +better than the Kirk. Master always makes a great gulf between the good +and the wicked, and his sermons hae some pith in them—the good get +encouragement, and the wicked are plainly told what kind o' a future +they are earning for themselves. But, with this man, it was just 'Love +God! Love God!' as if there was any use in loving God if you didna serve +Him. It was a poor sermon, Ma'am. Master would not like such doctrine, +and I came hungry away from it. So did Kitty. Kitty was saying you were +not in the Kirk. Were you sick, Ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Aileen! I was just loving God at home."</p> + +<p>Aileen was amazed at the avowal. She looked at her mistress with +wondering eyes, and, though she did not venture to blame, there was +distinct disapproval in her attitude.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Caird had spent the day in her room and in the summerhouse in the +garden, and this day the wonderful garden paid for its making; for in +the evening, as she was walking there with Marion she pointed to an +inscription above the entrance to the jasmine-shaded bower, and said, +"Read it to me, Marion." And Marion read slowly, as if she was tasting +the sweet flavor of the words:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Christ hath took in this piece of ground,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And made a garden there, for those</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Who want herbs for their wounds.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The two women looked at each other. Their eyes were shining, but they +did not speak. There was no need. That day Jessy Caird had found herbs +in the sweet shadowy place for all her unsatisfied longings, her fears +and anxieties, and received full payment for her long, unselfish love +and service.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon the Minister joined his daughter and sister-in-law. +He was very cheerful and happy as he sat drinking a cup of tea. His +daughter was at his side, and Mrs. Caird's presence added that sense of +oversight and of "all things in order" which was so essential to his +satisfaction. However, Mrs. Caird had a way of asking questions which he +would rather not answer, and he felt this touch of earth when she said:</p> + +<p>"How is Donald? And how is he faring altogether, Ian?"</p> + +<p>The question was unanswered for a moment or two, then he said with +distinct anger, "I did not see Donald. The Minister's pew was empty +yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Did you ask Maggie where he was?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I do that? Donald ought to have told me where he was going +on the Sabbath. It will be a black day when I have to go to servants for +information about my son."</p> + +<p>"Poor Donald! he cannot do right whatever he does. I dare say he only +went with Matthew Ballantyne to his father's place near Rothesay. You +will be getting a letter from him in the morning."</p> + +<p>"I would rather have seen him where he ought to have been."</p> + +<p>"In the <i>Church of the Disciples</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Even so."</p> + +<p>"You are all wrong. The boys would be on the water or climbing the +mountains. They were in God's holiest temple. I hope you don't even the +<i>Church of the Disciples</i> with it!"</p> + +<p>"This, or that, Jessy, Donald ought to have been in the Kirk."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he was at Matthew's Kirk. Dr. Ward is preaching there now, and +both Matthew and Donald think a deal of him."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. Donald's father is always last. He would rather hear any +one preach than his father."</p> + +<p>"There's a reason for that. He does not see the others in their daily +life. They don't thwart his wishes and scorn his hopes and set him to +work that he hates. He sees them only in the pulpit, where they have +pulpit grace and pulpit manners."</p> + +<p>"I have always treated Donald with loving kindness."</p> + +<p>"To be sure, when Donald walked the narrow chalk line you made for him. +You had your own will. You wanted to be a minister and no one hindered +you."</p> + +<p>"How do you know, Jessy, that I wanted to be a minister?"</p> + +<p>"Because you could not be happy unless you had power, and spiritual +power was all you could lay your hands on. Donald was willing to go +either to the sea or the army. What for wouldn't you give him his +desire?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you his life is all the Macraes have to build upon."</p> + +<p>"You yourself were in the same position before Donald was born."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and so I chose the salvation of the ministry."</p> + +<p>"You had the 'call' thereto. You liked the salvation of the ministry. +Donald could not take it, so you tied him to a counting desk. It was +like harnessing a stag to a plough. But you'll take your own way, no +matter where it leads you. So I'll say no more."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Jessy. If you would consider the subject closed, I——"</p> + +<p>"I will do no such thing. I shall speak for Donald whenever I can, in +season or out of season. There is a letter for you from Lady Cramer. It +came this morning."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae took it with a touch of respect, and read it twice over +before he spoke of its contents, though Mrs. Caird and Marion had their +part in its message. Finally, he laid it down and, handing his cup to be +refilled, he said:</p> + +<p>"Jessy, at six o'clock this evening, Lady Cramer will send a carriage +for me. She wishes me to stay until Wednesday afternoon, then she +intends coming to pay her call of welcome to you and Marion, and I will +return with her."</p> + +<p>"So she is wanting you for the most part of two days. What for? She has +her lawyers, and councillors, and her stepson."</p> + +<p>"The business she wants me to talk over with her is beyond lawyers and +councillors. It is of a literary and religious nature."</p> + +<p>"Oh! You may keep it to yourself, Ian."</p> + +<p>"I do not suppose you would understand it. The late Lord left some +papers on scientific and theological subjects. Lady Cramer wishes me to +prepare them for publication."</p> + +<p>"Lord Angus Cramer was not a very competent man, if all is true I have +heard about him. I think Marion and myself could understand anything he +could write."</p> + +<p>"Jessy, we all know that the mental qualities of men differ from those +of women. The inequalities of sex——"</p> + +<p>"Have nothing whatever to do with mental qualities. Inequalities of sex, +indeed! They do not exist! They are a fiction that no sane man can argue +about."</p> + +<p>"Jessy, I say——"</p> + +<p>"Look at your own fireside, Minister. Donald is well fitted to go to the +army, take orders, and carry them out. Marion would be giving the +orders. Donald has an average quantity of brains. Marion can double +yours, and, if given fitting education and opportunity, would preach and +write you out of all remembrance. And where would you be, I wonder, +without Jessy Caird to guide and look after all your outgoings and +incomings? Who criticizes your sermons and tells you where they are +right, and where wrong, and who gives you 'the look' when you have said +enough, and are going to pass your climax?"</p> + +<p>"My dear sister, you are my right hand in everything. I do nothing +without your advice. I admit that I should be a lost man physically +without you."</p> + +<p>"Mentally, likewise. Give me all the credit I ought to have."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my sermons owe a great deal to you. And you have kept me socially +right, also. I would have had many enemies, wanting your counseling."</p> + +<p>"That's enough. I have been your faithful friend; and a faithful friend +likes, now and then, to have the fact acknowledged. You had better go to +your room now and put on the handsomest suit in your keeping. You'll +find linen there white as snow, and pack a fresh wearing of it for +to-morrow. By the grace of God you are a handsome man and you ought to +show forth God's physical gifts, as well as His spiritual ones."</p> + +<p>Doubtless the compliment was balm to the little pricks and pinches of +her previous remarks; for Dr. Macrae went with cheerful, rapid steps to +his toilet, and Mrs. Caird looked after him smiling and rubbing her lips +complacently, as if she was complimenting them on their courage and +moderation.</p> + +<p>Tall, stately, aristocratic in appearance, Dr. Macrae stepped into the +Cramer carriage with an air and manner that elicited the utmost respect, +almost the servility, of the coachman and footman. Marion looked at her +aunt with a face glowing with pride, and Mrs. Caird answered the look.</p> + +<p>"You are right, Marion. In some ways there is none like him. If he +would be patient and considerate with your brother, I would stand by Ian +Macrae if the whole world was against him."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I should displease him—suppose he told me I must marry Allan +Reid, and I would not—would you stand by me as you stand by Donald, +Aunt Jessy?"</p> + +<p>"Through thick and thin to the very end of the controversy, no matter +what it was."</p> + +<p>"I saw Father stop and look at the book I laid down."</p> + +<p>"What book was it?"</p> + +<p>"'David Copperfield,' and Father told me not to read Dickens. He said he +was common, and would take me only into vulgar and improper company. He +told me to read Scott, if I wanted fiction."</p> + +<p>"Scott will take you into worse company. Romance does not make robbers +and villains good company. Dickens's common people are real and human, +and have generally some domestic virtues. Yes, indeed, some of his +common people are most uncommonly good and lovable. For myself, I cannot +be bothered with Scott's long pedigrees and descriptions. If there's a +crack in a castle wall, he has to describe how far it runs east or west. +It is the old, bad world Scott writes about, full of war and bloodshed, +cruel customs and hatreds. And his characters are not the men and women +we know, but if you go to England you will see the characters of +Dickens in the omnibuses and on the streets."</p> + +<p>"I would like us to have everything in beautiful order on Wednesday, +Aunt."</p> + +<p>"Everything is in beautiful order now and will be at any hour Lady +Cramer chooses to call, as long as I am head of this house."</p> + +<p>Still, on Wednesday afternoon Marion looked at the chairs and tables and +all the pretty paraphernalia of the parlor critically. There was nothing +in it she could wish different. The furniture was of rosewood +upholstered in pale blue damask. The walls were covered with a delicate +paper, and hung on them were pastels of lovely faces and green +landscapes. The latticed windows were open, and a little wind gently +moved the white lace curtains. The vases were full of flowers, and a +small crystal one held the first rose of the season. There was nothing +she could do but open the piano, and place a piece of music on its rack, +that would give a sense of life and song to the room.</p> + +<p>This done she looked around and, being satisfied, took a book and sat +down. The book was "David Copperfield," and she had just arrived at that +pleasant period when <i>David</i> finds out that <i>Dora</i> puts her hair in curl +papers, and even watches her do it, when Mrs. Caird entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Marion," she said, "I see the Cramer carriage coming, stand up and let +me look at you."</p> + +<p>Then Marion rose and she seemed to shine where she stood. From her +throat to her sandals she was clothed in white organdie. A white satin +belt was round her waist, and a necklace of polished white coral round +her neck. There were white coral combs in her abundant black hair, and +beautiful white laces at her elbows.</p> + +<p>"You are a bonnie lassie," said her aunt proudly, "and see you hold up +your own side. You are Ian Macrae's daughter and as good as any lady in +the land. And beware of flattering my Lady in any form or shape. It is +the worst of bad manners, as well as clean against your interests, to +flatter a benefactor. Let them say nice words to you."</p> + +<p>Then the carriage was at the door, and Mrs. Caird was there also, and +Marion could hear the usual formalities, and the rustle of clothing and +all the pleasant stir of arriving guests. She sat still until Lady +Cramer entered, then rose to greet her. For a moment there was a slight +hesitation, the next moment Lady Cramer cried, "You are Marion! I know +you, child! I thought you were an angel!"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Lady Cramer."</p> + +<p>The right key had been set. Lady Cramer fell at once into a charming, +simple conversation and Dr. Macrae, who feared his daughter would be +shy and uninteresting, was amazed at the cleverness of her conversation +and the self-possession of her manner.</p> + +<p>When tea was served, Marion waited upon Lady Cramer. She had given her +father one look of invitation to take her place, but the Minister knew +better than to answer it. The Apostles had refused to serve tables, he +respected his office equally. Spiritually, he sat in the place of honor, +how could he serve anyone with tea and muffins? There was a maid in cap +and apron to perform that duty. The Macraes were a proud family, but it +was not temporal pride that actuated the Minister. In all cases and at +all hours he followed St. Paul's example and "magnified his office." He +had always retired from anything like service, either at home or abroad, +and it would be idle and false not to admit that he was admired and +respected for it. It was honor enough that he condescended to be +present, for in those days the Calvinistic ministry were a grave and +rather haughty religious oligarchy. But they were not to blame; for the +honor of God and their own satisfaction the people made them oligarchs.</p> + +<p>After tea Lady Cramer asked Marion to sing for her. "There is a song," +she said, "that I hear everywhere I go, and never too often. I dare say +you can sing it, Marion. May I call you Marion?"</p> + +<p>"I should like you to do so, Lady Cramer. And what is the name of the +song?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you; it is about rowing in a boat; it is the music that +charms. My dear, it beats like a human heart."</p> + +<p>"I know it," answered Marion and, with a pleased acquiescence, she +played a few chords embodying a wonderful melody, and anon her voice +went with it, as if it was its very own:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Row, young comrades, row, young oarsmen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into the crypt of the night we float;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair, faint moonbeams wash and wander,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wash and wander about the boat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a fetter is here to bind us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love and memory lose their spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friends of the home we have left behind us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prisoners of content! Farewell!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At the last four lines the charm was doubled by someone—not in the +room—singing them with her. It was a man's voice, a fine baritone, and +was used with taste and skill. Every line raised Marion's enthusiasm, no +one had ever heard her sing with such power and sweetness before, and +during the little outburst of delight that thanked her Lord Richard +Cramer entered the room.</p> + +<p>"The praise is partly mine," he cried in a joyous voice, "and I know the +musician will give me it." As he spoke he took the Minister's hand, and +Dr. Macrae rose at the young man's request, and introduced his daughter +to him. They looked, and they loved. The feeling was instantaneous and +indisputable. Richard was on the point of calling her "Marion" a dozen +times that happy hour; and "Richard" came as naturally and sweetly to +Marion's lips. They sang the song over again, and before Lady Cramer +left she had noticed the impression made upon her son, and resolved to +have the young people under her supervision.</p> + +<p>"I must have Marion for a week," she said to Mrs. Caird, and Lord +Richard added that he had promised to teach Miss Macrae to ride, and +that the lessons would require "a week at the very least." And Mrs. +Caird was pleased to give such a ready consent to the proposal that Dr. +Macrae could find no possible reason for refusing it.</p> + +<p>Then the party broke up in a happy little tumult that defied the cold +proprieties of the best society; for Lord Cramer had set the chatter and +laughter going, and to Mrs. Caird the relaxation was like a glass of +cold water to a thirsty woman.</p> + +<p>"I am worldly enough to like the Cramers' way," she answered, when the +Minister regretted the innocent merriment. "There was not a wrong word; +no, nor a wrong thought, Ian; and I was fairly wearying for the sound of +happy singing, and the voices of young folks chattering and laughing. +This afternoon has been a great pleasure to me. And I'm hoping there +will be plenty more like it. A man from the Hall has just brought a box. +It appears to be a heavy one."</p> + +<p>"It is full of books and papers."</p> + +<p>"What kind of books, Ian?"</p> + +<p>"Books that many are reading with an amazing interest, Jessy; and which +I have long thought of examining. Huxley and Darwin's works, poor Hugh +Miller's 'Investigations,' Bishop Colenso's 'Misconceptions,' +Schopenhauer and others——"</p> + +<p>"Ian, do not open one of them. There is your Bible. Don't you read a +word against it. In a spiritual sense, it is the sun that warms, and the +bread that feeds you."</p> + +<p>"The intellectual feeling of the critical school of Bible readers ought +to be familiar to me, or how can I preach against it, Jessy?"</p> + +<p>"You have all the sins mentioned in the Commandments to preach against. +The critical school can bear or mend its own sins."</p> + +<p>"Let me explain, Jessy. The late Lord Cramer during his long illness +read all these questioning, doubting books, and he wrote many +refutations of their errors, or at least he believed them to be +refutations. I have promised Lady Cramer to examine the papers, and +prepare them for publication."</p> + +<p>"Ian, do not do it. I entreat you to decline the whole business."</p> + +<p>"You are unreasonable, Jessy."</p> + +<p>"These men of the Critical School are intellectual giants. Are you +strong enough to wrestle with them and not be overcome?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless I comprehend them. Therefore, I must read what they say."</p> + +<p>"What matters comprehension if you have Faith?"</p> + +<p>"I have Faith, and I can trust my Faith. I know what I preach. My creed +is reasonable and I believe it. I am no flounderer in unknown seas."</p> + +<p>Nor was he. Ian Macrae was surely at this period of his life an upright +soul. All his beliefs were fixed, and he was sure that he understood God +perfectly. So he looked kindly into the pleasant, anxious face before +him, and continued:</p> + +<p>"I have not a doubt. I never had a doubt. I wish I was sure of +everything concerning my life as I am of my creed. In my Bible, the +blessed book from which I studied at St. Andrews, I have written these +lines of an old poet, called Crawshaw:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Think not the Faith by which the just shall live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a dead creed, a map correct of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far less a feeling fond and fugitive—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is an affirmation, and an act,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bids eternal truth be present fact.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"We do not know ourselves, Ian; however, we do know that the Christ who +carries our sins can carry our doubts. And no one is sure of what will +happen in their life. What is troubling you in particular?"</p> + +<p>"Donald—and Marion."</p> + +<p>"Marion! The dear child! She has never given you a heartache in all her +life."</p> + +<p>"She gave me one this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Because she was happy. Ian, you are most unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid of Lord Cramer. He would have made love to her this +afternoon——"</p> + +<p>"I will suppose you are right and then ask, what wrong there would have +been in it?"</p> + +<p>"More than I can explain. For seven years he was in a fast cavalry +regiment, and he kept its pace even to the embarrassing of the Cramer +estate. He had reached the limit of his father's indulgence three years +ago. His stepmother has been loaning him money ever since, and he is in +honor bound to repay her as soon as possible. That duty comes before his +marriage, unless he marries a rich woman. My daughter would be a most +unwelcome daughter to Lady Cramer, and I will not have Marion put in +such a position. Dislike spreads quickly, and from the mother to the son +might well be an easy road. There is something else also——"</p> + +<p>"Pray let me hear the whole list of the young man's sins."</p> + +<p>"He is deeply influenced by the 'isms' of the day, and, though brought +up strictly in the true church, Lady Cramer fears he never goes there; +for she cannot get him to spend a Sabbath at home."</p> + +<p>"All this, Ian, is hearsay and speculation. We have no right to judge +him out of the mouth of others. Speak to him yourself."</p> + +<p>"I cannot speak yet. But at once I wish you to speak to Marion. Tell her +to hold her heart in her own keeping. The late Lord Cramer was my +friend. He told me whom he wished his son to marry, and it would be a +kind of treachery to the dead if I sanctioned the putting of my own +daughter in her place. I would not only be humiliated in my own sight, +but in the sight of the church, and of all who know me."</p> + +<p>"No girl can hold her heart in her own keeping if the right man asks for +it. There was my little sister——"</p> + +<p>"We will not bring her name into the subject, Jessy. It is painful to +me. I saw plainly this afternoon that Marion was pleased with Lord +Cramer's attention."</p> + +<p>"Any girl would have been so. He is a handsome, good-natured man, full +of innocent mirth, and Marion loves, as I do, the happy side of +life—and is hungry—as I am—for its uplifting."</p> + +<p>"Marion has never seen the unhappy side of life. Her lines have fallen +to her in pleasant places. A short time ago Allan Reid told me he loved +her and asked my permission to win her love, if he could. I gave him it. +She could not have a more suitable husband."</p> + +<p>"Girls like handsome, well-made men, Ian, men like yourself. Allan Reid +is not handsome; indeed, he is very unhandsome. Marion spoke to me of +his long neck and weak eyes, and——"</p> + +<p>"Girls are perfectly silly on that subject. A good man, and a rich man, +is as much as a girl ought to expect."</p> + +<p>"Men are perfectly silly on the same subject. A good woman with a heart +full of love is as much, and more than, any man ought to expect. But, +before he thinks of these things, he is particularly anxious that she +should be beautiful, and graceful, and money in her purse makes her +still more desirable."</p> + +<p>"A man naturally wants a handsome mother for his children."</p> + +<p>"Girls are just as foolish. They want a handsome father for their +children. I think, Ian, you might as well give up all hopes of Marion's +marrying Allan Reid. She believes him to be as mean-hearted as he is +physically unhandsome. She will never accept him."</p> + +<p>"I shall insist on this marriage. Say all you can in young Reid's +favor."</p> + +<p>"Preach for your own saint, Ian. I have nothing to say in Allan Reid's +favor."</p> + +<p>"Then say nothing in favor of Lord Cramer."</p> + +<p>"What I have seen of Lord Cramer I like. Do you want me to speak ill of +him?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you what he has been."</p> + +<p>"His father's death has put him in a responsible position. That of +itself often sobers and changes young men. Ian Macrae, leave your +daughter's affairs alone. She will manage them better than you can. And +what are you going to do about Donald?"</p> + +<p>"Donald is doing well enough."</p> + +<p>"He is not. I am afraid every mail that comes will tell us that he has +taken the Queen's shilling, or gone before the mast."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Ask Donald what he wants, and give him his desire—whatever it is."</p> + +<p>"There is not a good father in Scotland that would do the like of that, +Jessy."</p> + +<p>"Then be a bad father and do it. I am sure you may risk the +consequences."</p> + +<p>"These children are a great anxiety to me. Something is wrong if they +will not listen to their father. I am very much worried, Jessy. I will +go and unpack those books and then read awhile."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Ian. You say that now you have perfect Faith. When you +have gone through those books, your Faith will be in rags and tatters."</p> + +<p>"I do not fear. There is no danger but in our own cowardice. We are +ourselves the rocks of our own doubt. The danger lies in fearing danger. +I made a promise to the dead. I cannot break it, Jessy. Such a promise +is a finality."</p> + +<p>"You made that promise by the special instigation of the devil, Ian."</p> + +<p>"Jessy, you never read these books. The men who wrote them were morally +good men, seekers after truth and righteousness. I believe so much of +them."</p> + +<p>"You are partly right. I have never read the books, but I have read +long, elaborate, wearisome reviews of them. That was enough, and more +than enough, for me."</p> + +<p>"Why did you read such reviews?"</p> + +<p>"Because I wanted to know whether Donald and Marion should be warned +against them. I think they ought to be warned."</p> + +<p>"You can leave that duty to me. If I think it necessary, they will +receive the proper instruction."</p> + +<p>"I wonder the government allows such books to be published. They will +ruin the coming generations. The Romans had not much of a religion, but +when they began to doubt it they went madly into vice and atheism and +national ruin. If men have such wicked thoughts as are in the books you +are going to read, they ought to keep them in their own hearts. If they +could not do that, I would put them in prison, and take pen and ink from +them."</p> + +<p>"Do be more charitable, Jessy. The Bible teaches——"</p> + +<p>"It teaches us to let such destructive books alone. God himself +specially warned the Israelites not even 'to make inquiry' about the +religion of the Canaanites; they did it, of course, and you know the +result as well as I do. And men these days are so set up with their long +dominion and the varieties of strange knowledge they have accepted that +they do not require any Eve to pull this apple of disobedience and doubt +of God. They manage it themselves."</p> + +<p>"Jessy Caird, you have no right to impute evil to either men or books +that are only known to you through some critic's opinion." Then he rose +and, standing with uplifted eyes, said with singular emotion:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'O God, that men would see a little clearer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or judge less harshly where they cannot see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O God, that men would draw a little nearer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To one another! They'd be nearer Thee!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>With these words he left Jessy and went to the room where the fateful +books were waiting for him.</p> + +<p>And Jessy could say no more. But she threw her knitting out of her hands +and let them drop hopelessly into her lap.</p> + +<p>"When men stop reasoning, they quote poetry," she mused angrily. "I +never heard Ian quote a whole verse before, unless he was in the pulpit; +well, I have warned him, and now I can only hope he will feel that sense +of utter desolation in his soul that I always felt after a few sentences +of Schopenhauer or Darwin. There! I hear him opening the box. Now begin +the to-and-fro paths of Doubt and Persuasion, days full of anxious +brooding, nights full of shadowy chasms, that nothing but Faith can +bridge. But Ian has Faith—at least in his creed—and there are +spiritual influences that no one can predict or resist, for the way of +the Spirit is the way of the wind." Motionless she sat for a few +minutes, and then rose hastily, saying softly as she did so, "Wherever +is Marion? I wonder she was not seeking me ere this."</p> + +<p>She found Marion in her own room. She was kneeling at the open window +with her elbows on the broad stone sill, and her cheeks were almost +touching the sweet little mignonettes. A tender smile brooded over her +face, a tender light was in her eyes, she was lost in a new, ineffable +sense of something full of delight—some pleasure strangely personal +that was hers and hers alone.</p> + +<p>"I am lonely without you, Marion. Why did you run away from me?"</p> + +<p>"I thought Father was with you and, perhaps, saying something I would +not like—about our visitors."</p> + +<p>"What could he say that was not pleasant? I am sure they were everything +that any reasonable person could expect."</p> + +<p>"You know what Father told you about Lord Cramer. I have now seen him. I +would not believe any wrong of him. I shall not listen to any wrong of +him without protesting it; so I thought it best not to go into +temptation."</p> + +<p>"You did right."</p> + +<p>"He is a beautiful young man—and how exquisite are his manners! How did +he learn them?"</p> + +<p>"He has always lived among people of the highest distinction, and they +practice them naturally—or ought to do so."</p> + +<p>"To you, to his stepmother, to Father, and to me he was equally polite. +He did not treat me indifferently because I have only the shy, +half-formed manners of a school-girl. He paid you as much respect as he +paid Lady Cramer, though you are old and beneath her in social rank, nor +was he in the least subservient to Father because he is a famous +minister. He was equally attentive and courteous to all."</p> + +<p>"I will take leave to differ with you, Marion Macrae. I am not old. I am +in the midway of my life, young in soul, mind and body, and I am nothing +beneath Lady Cramer in rank. Keep that in your mind. And you are not a +shy, untrained school-girl; you are a young, lovely woman, with the +naturally fine manners that come from a good heart and proper education. +As for subservience to your father, I saw nothing of it from Lord +Cramer, but Lady Cramer deferred to him in everything, and I wonder she +has not turned his head round, and his heart inside out with her +humility, and homage, and her downcast eyes."</p> + +<p>"She is very pretty, Aunt."</p> + +<p>"She is fairly beautiful. She has the witching ways of those +golden-haired women, and all their flattering submissions. She can drop +her blue eyes, and then lift them with a flash that would trouble any +man's heart that had love or life left in it. And see how wisely and +warily she dresses herself—the long, black, satin gown, with its white +crape collar and cuffs, and the black and white satin ribbons so fresh +and uncreased!"</p> + +<p>"And the wave and curl of her lovely hair, under the small white lace +bonnet! I thought, Aunt, she——"</p> + +<p>"She ought not to have worn a white bonnet. It is too soon after her +husband's death to wear a bit of white lace and a few white flowers on +her head. She should have worn her widow's bonnet for two years, and it +is wanting half a year at least of that term. But, this or that, she is +a butterfly of beauty and vanity, and I would not be astonished if she +fell in love with your father. To most women he would be an +extraordinarily attractive man."</p> + +<p>"O Aunt Jessy, what an idea! That would be the most unlikely of things."</p> + +<p>"For that very reason it is likely."</p> + +<p>"Father never notices women except in a religious way—when they are in +trouble, or want his advice about their souls."</p> + +<p>"You can no more judge your father by his outside than you can judge a +cocoanut. He has a volcanic soul—ordinarily the fire is low and quiet, +but if it should become active it would be a dangerous thing to meddle +with."</p> + +<p>"Father may have an austere face, but he has a tender mouth; and, O +Aunt, I have seen love leap into his shadowy eyes when I have met him at +the door, or drawn my chair close to his side in the evening."</p> + +<p>"Your father is a good man. He has a genius for divine things—but women +are not reckoned in that class."</p> + +<p>"And I think Lord Cramer is a good man, though his genius may be for +military things. He had the light of battle on his face this afternoon +when he told us of that fight with the Afghans; and how sad was his +expression when he described the burying of his company's colonel after +it—the open grave in a cleft of hills dark with pines, the solemn dead +march, the noble words spoken as they left their leader forever, and +turned back to camp to the tender, homely strains of <i>Annie Laurie</i>. Oh, +I could see and hear all. I have felt ever since as if I had been +present."</p> + +<p>"He appears to be a fine young fellow, though we must remember that men +judge men better than women can; and it may be possible your father's +opinion of Lord Richard Cramer has at least some truth in it."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe it has. I think, also, that Lord Cramer is the +handsomest man I ever saw. Just compare him with Allan Reid."</p> + +<p>"Why are you speaking of Allan Reid?"</p> + +<p>"Because Father thinks I will marry the creature."</p> + +<p>"Will you do as your father wishes?"</p> + +<p>"Once, I might have done so—perhaps. Not now. My eyes have been opened. +I have seen a man like Lord Richard Cramer, and I will marry no man of a +meaner kind. How tall and straight and slender is his figure! How bold +and manly his face! His gray eyes are full of quick, undaunted spirit, +he is all nerve and fire, and I believe he could love as well as I am +sure he can fight."</p> + +<p>"You need not take love into the question. Richard Cramer will be +compelled to marry a rich woman. Your father says he is bound both by +honor and necessity to do so."</p> + +<p>Marion buried her face in the mignonette, and did not answer; and Mrs. +Caird, after a few moments' silence, said:</p> + +<p>"Be glad that your heart is your own, and do not give it away until it +is asked for."</p> + +<p>"As if I would be so foolish, Aunt! I stand by Lord Cramer because +people tell lies about him. I always stand by anyone wronged. I would +even stand by Allan Reid, if I knew he was slandered without just +cause."</p> + +<p>"That is very good of you. If Allan heard tell of your opinion, he would +get someone to lie him into your favor."</p> + +<p>"He could not, because I would believe anything bad of Allan."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Caird laughed, and Marion wondered why. She had forgotten the +exception just made in his favor. Her thoughts were not with Allan +Reid.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>DONALD PLEASES HIS FATHER</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The songs our souls rejoiced to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When harps were in the hall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each proud note made lance and spear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thrill on the banner'd wall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"God sent his singers upon earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With songs of sadness and of mirth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they might touch the hearts of men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bring them back to heaven again."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The Minister had said he would go and read awhile, and Mrs. Caird had +heard him unpacking the box of books that had arrived. But at that hour +he went no further than to arrange them conveniently on a table at his +side. He was too utterly amazed at Mrs. Caird's admitting that she had +read criticisms and reviews of books she considered objectionable for +himself. He remembered then, what he had only casually observed during +all the years she had dwelt with him, that Jessy Caird was never without +a book in her work-basket. But he had noticed on all of them the cover +and the mark of the public library, and had felt certain they were +novels. And, as the children were at schools and she much alone, he had +been considerate in the matter and not asked any questions. How could he +suspect that such objectionable literature was lying openly among her +knitting and mending?</p> + +<p>As he made this reflection, his eyes sought the volumes lying on the +table, and he noticed that his Bible was close to them. Its familiar +aspect brought a warm, comfortable sense to his heart. It was surely the +Word of His Father in heaven. He leaned forward and laid his head +affectionately upon it. What a Friend it had been to him! What a +Counselor! In every way he had such a tremendous prepossession in its +truth and blessing that he could smile defiantly at any man, or any +man's book, being able to make him doubt a tittle of its law or its +promises.</p> + +<p>"The heavens and the earth may pass away," he said, "but not one word of +God shall perish!" And, though he spoke softly, as to his own heart, the +affirmation was hot with the love and fervor that thrilled the words +through and through. In a few moments he rose, lifted the Book with +tender homage, and laid it on a small table holding nothing but one +white moss rose in a slender crystal vase. He did it without intention, +actuated by a sudden spiritual reverence for holy things.</p> + +<p>But as soon as the transfer was accomplished he began to reason about +it. "Why did I remove the Bible?" he asked himself. He was not sure why, +but he <i>was</i> sure that the impulse to do so had been a good and proper +one.</p> + +<p>"There is no book that looks like it in all the world," he thought. "It +belongs to the Sanctuary. It is the Sanctuary in itself. How could I +leave it among books that doubt and perhaps revile it?" Then his glance +fell upon the books to which he had attributed a crime so likely and so +heinous, and he continued his reflections.</p> + +<p>"How commonplace and similar they look! They might be text-books, or +novels, or even poetry. But God has set his mark upon the Bible. We +cannot mistake it. Printed in any size or shape, bound in any color or +any material, we know the moment our eyes fall upon it that it is the +Word of God."</p> + +<p>However, it is easy for the mind to find a ready road from spiritual to +personal things, and it was not long before Lord Cramer had possession +of the Minister's meditations. There appears to be no relevancy between +the Bible and Lord Cramer, but Thought has swift and secret passages, +and perhaps the way had been through the discredited books; for he was +thinking of the young nobleman with much the same feelings as he had +given the doubtful and objectionable volumes. He had felt them to be +unworthy to lie on the same table with the Bible. He was equally certain +that Lord Richard Cramer was unworthy to lift his eyes to Marion Macrae, +and quite as positive that he intended to do so.</p> + +<p>"Marion must marry Allan Reid," he decided. "It is for her happiness +every way. What profit is there in a title, if its holder is too poor to +honor it? Young Reid is rich, and will be rich enough to buy a title if +he wants one. Moreover, Lord Richard is not like his father in a +religious sense. Lord Angus Cramer—my friend—was present at divine +service as long as he was able to be so. Lord Richard does not observe +the Sabbath. His stepmother is troubled at his attitude toward the +Church. Such a man is not fit to be <i>my</i> son-in-law—a man who does not +keep the Sabbath! The idea is an impossible one! Allan Reid fills his +place every Sabbath in the Church of the Disciples. To be honorable, and +rich, and to keep the Sabbath! These are the three cardinal points of a +respectable and religious life, and Marion must be made to accept them." +Yet he felt quite sure that, at that very moment, Lord Richard Cramer +was thinking of his daughter, and almost equally sure that Marion was +thinking of Richard Cramer.</p> + +<p>In a measure Macrae was correct. Lord Cramer was thinking of Marion, but +he was telling himself it was only in a philosophical way. Sitting +smoking on the lawn in the late twilight, he was curiously asking his +heart the question so many ask, "Why is it that, out of the thousands of +persons we meet, only one can rouse in us the tremendous passion of a +first true love?" Yet, in whatever manner Richard Cramer tried to reason +with himself, he was quite aware that something had happened that +afternoon that could never be satisfied by any reasoning.</p> + +<p>He would not believe it was love. Yet he had an extraordinary elation, +his heart beat rapidly, and he was in a fever of longing and wonderment +about the girl he had just met. He thought he knew all about women, but +Marion was quite different, and she had called into life something +deeper down than he had ever felt before. He was dreamy and yet +restless, he was strangely happy, and yet strangely unhappy. Ah, though +he would not admit it, the poignant thirst and exquisite hunger of a +great love were beginning to trouble him.</p> + +<p>He knew, however, that he could not run blindly into such a life-long +affair as wooing the Minister's daughter. It might prove to be the +dislocation of all his plans and prospects. Debt weighed heavily on him, +especially his debt to his stepmother. So long as he owed her a shilling +he was not his own master. He had been a gallant cavalry officer, but +not averse to relinquish the limitations of that position for the title +and estate that had fallen to him. Yet he could not keep up the state +necessary unless he married a rich woman. He had promised his father to +do this, and had almost resolved to try his fortune with Miss Victoria +Marvel, the heiress of an immensely wealthy banker, and a young and +lovely woman. This night, however, Miss Marvel was far beyond his +horizon; he could think of no woman in all his world but Marion Macrae.</p> + +<p>A week after Lady Cramer's call at the Little House, she came again and +took Marion back with her to Cramer Hall for a visit. It was a pleasure +to see the beautiful girl depart with her, for so much joyful +expectation filled her heart that it transfigured her whole person, and +she smiled so brightly, and stepped so lightly, that she seemed at that +hour just a little above mortality. And the brilliant sunshine, and the +calling of the cuckoo birds, the scent of flowers, and the breath and +murmur of the sea, appeared to be just the natural atmosphere of her +happy soul that wonderful June morning.</p> + +<p>Lady Cramer chatted pleasantly as they drove over the brae and by the +seashore, until they reached the large, plain, Georgian mansion called +Cramer Hall. It was only remarkable for its size, and for the great +extent and beauty of its gardens and park. As they neared the dwelling, +Marion saw Lord Cramer descending the flight of steps which led to its +principal entrance. She saw him coming to her! She felt him clasp her +hand! She heard him speaking! But all these things took place to her in +a delightful sense of semiconsciousness. She knew not what she said. +Words were so dumb and inconsequent. Truly we have all confessed at +times, "I had no words to express my feelings." Shall we ever in this +life find words for our divinest moments? Or must we wait for their +expression until Love and Death,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Open the portals of that other land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the great voices sound, and visions dwell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Marion was only too glad to reach the room prepared for her, and to sit +still and draw herself together; for happiness really dissipates the +inner personality, and squanders the richest and rarest of our feelings. +It was an antique room, full of the most beautiful, world-forgotten old +furniture, one piece of richly carved oak being a cheval glass that +showed her Marion Macrae from head to feet. And, in some way, these +material household things calmed and steadied her.</p> + +<p>Now let those who have truly loved tell themselves how time went by in +this Eden home for Richard and Marion. True, nothing strange or +startling marked its passage, only a delightful monotony of events usual +and looked forward to. They rode, and read, and sang, they wandered +about the house and garden, talking such divinity as only lovers +understand. If there was company they kept much apart, and spoke little +to each other, but every one present knew they were <i>really one</i>. For +Love and Beauty create an atmosphere of ethereal union to which even +those ossified by a material life are not quite insensible.</p> + +<p>Lady Cramer indeed affected ignorance, but she was well aware of what +was going on. She had anticipated it and, because she knew her stepson's +disposition so well, had planned this very intimacy, feeling certain it +would easily dissipate the light, roving fancy of the young man. She had +so often seen him fall desperately in love, and so often seen him fall +coldly and wearily out of it, and that with women whom she considered +vastly superior to Marion in every respect. When she asked Marion to +Cramer Hall, she believed that one week's unchecked intercourse would +find Richard called to Edinburgh or London on very important business. +When he received no such call she invited Marion to extend her visit for +another week. In her opinion, it would be an incredible thing for +Richard Cramer to live his life from morning to night for two weeks with +the same girl and not utterly exhaust his fancy for her. At the end of +two weeks, finding him still enraptured with "the same girl," she +invited Marion for the third week, telling herself, as she did so: "If +he stands three weeks of this absurd entanglement, there will have to be +some strong measures taken. In the first place I shall speak to the +Minister."</p> + +<p>Now the Minister was much displeased at this second extension of his +daughter's visit, and he wrote to her concerning it, saying, "A third +week's visit is most unusual. I am troubled and angry at your acceptance +of it. You are imposing on Lady Cramer's kindness, and I do not think it +was at her wish this third invitation was given. I hope it was not your +doing. Come home, without fail, immediately on its termination."</p> + +<p>Acting on Mrs. Caird's advice, he had kept away from the Hall during +Marion's visit. "There are a lot of young people coming and going +between Cramer Hall and the neighboring gentry," she said, "and they do +not want the Minister's company unless it be to marry them. I know the +Blair girls, with their brother, Sir Thomas, were there two or three +days; and I heard the young people were walking quadrilles on the lawn, +and playing billiards in the house. Moreover, Starkie was in the kitchen +the other day, and he told Aileen that Lady Geraldine Gower—who is a +perfect horsewoman—was putting Marion and her pony through their paces; +and I am feared for such ways—he said also, that the Macauleys were +with them, and Captain Jermayne from the Edinburgh garrison."</p> + +<p>"Marion ought not to be in such company."</p> + +<p>"Marion is good enough for any company."</p> + +<p>"That is allowed. I was thinking of her being led into temptation."</p> + +<p>"Think of yourself, Ian, you are in far greater temptation than Marion +will ever have to face. Did you notice a book lying open on the small +table in your study?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I want you to notice it. I left it lying face downward purposely. If +you lift it carefully, you will see that I have marked a few lines. Read +them."</p> + +<p>"<i>Lines!</i> Poetry, I suppose! Jessy, I have not time to read outside my +present work."</p> + +<p>"They are directly inside of your work."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would drive over to Cramer, and say a few words of counsel +to Marion."</p> + +<p>"I will not, Ian. Marion must learn how to counsel herself. She is now +in a fine school to learn that lesson, and she will come home <i>dux</i> of +her class when it is closed."</p> + +<p>He was turning toward his study as Mrs. Caird spoke, and he was closing +the door as her last words reached him, "Read what I have marked, Ian."</p> + +<p>He said to himself that he would not read it. Jessy required to be put a +little more in her proper place. She had advised him too much lately, +and he felt that she ought to wait until asked for her opinion on +subjects belonging particularly to his profession. Her attitude was +subversive of all recognized authority.</p> + +<p>So he looked at the book lying on the table, but did not lift it. He was +the more determined not to read the marked "lines" because Jessy had +left the book face downward. She knew that this habit of hers seriously +annoyed him, and that she had calculated on this annoyance making him +lift the book and so in straightening the pages see the marked passage. +He told himself that this was taking an unfair advantage of one of his +most innocent peculiarities. He was resolved not to sanction it.</p> + +<p>But the book lying on its face vexed and even troubled him. It might be +a good book, the mental abode of some wise man, who had pressed his +finest hopes and thoughts on its white leaves. He could neither read nor +write with that fallen volume before him. For he was so used to listen +with his eyes to the absent or dead who spoke to him in a low +counterpoint that he could not avoid a feeling that he was treating a +visitor, whether friend or foe, with great unkindness.</p> + +<p>He rose and he sat down, then rose again, and, with a resolved attitude, +lifted his prostrate friend or enemy. One leaf was crumpled and, when +he had smoothed it carefully out, he saw a passage enclosed in strong +pencil lines. So he walked to his desk and, taking a piece of rubber, +erased with pains and caution the indexing marks, nor did he read one +word of the message the book brought him until he had set it free to +advise, or reprove, or comfort him, according to its tenor. Then the +words that met his eyes, and never again left his memory, were the +following:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let lore of all Theology<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be to thy soul what it <i>can</i> be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But know—the Power that fashions man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Measured not out thy little span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee to take the meeting rod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In turn, and so approve to God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy science of Theometry."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Many times over he read this message, and then he sat with the book in +his hand, lost in thought.</p> + +<p>But of the tenor of these thoughts he said nothing; yet Mrs. Caird was +satisfied. If he had not read the lines, she knew he would have told her +so, and, having read them, they could be left without discussion. He was +in a less moody spirit all the rest of the week, and spoke to her +several times of the hopeless discouragement involved in Comte's scheme +of "supreme religion," a mere possibility of posthumous though +unconscious "incorporation with the <i>Grand Être</i> himself," said he.</p> + +<p>"Well, we are not on holy ground with Comte, Ian, and we need not take +off our shoes," answered Mrs. Caird. "This <i>Grand Être</i>, this Great +Being, is made up of little beings—yourself and I for instance."</p> + +<p>"And yet, Jessy, Comte does not think all men worthy even of this honor. +Vast numbers will remain in a parasitic state on this Grand +Being—really burdens on him, Comte says."</p> + +<p>"O Ian! What a poor unhappy God! Put your thoughts on the first ten +words in Genesis. Consider their infinite sublimity and simplicity. In +the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. This God is our +God, and He has been, and will be our dwelling place in, and for, all +generations, <i>Our Father</i>! The weakest souls are not parasites or +burdens to Him. Like a father He pities them."</p> + +<p>"You are relying on the Bible, Jessy. It does not enter into Comte's +scheme, and indeed what is called scientific religion discredits the +Book generally."</p> + +<p>"The Bible was not printed yesterday, Ian. Its assailants come and go, +come and go, but it stands unmoved forever. With what new weapons can it +be attacked? You told me yesterday that Strauss thought he had abolished +Paul, and that Ewald answered there was nothing new in Strauss. As far +as I can see, the giants of unbelief slay each other, while the Bible +goes on to blend itself with the thought and speech of every land under +the sun."</p> + +<p>Such conversations became frequent between the Minister and his sister. +He appeared to provoke and enjoy them. And he looked with a kind +curiosity at this woman who had sat nearly twenty years on his hearth, +nursing his children, ordering his household, sewing, knitting, telling +fairy tales, and yet pondering in her heart the highest questions of +time and eternity. The facts violated all his conceptions of women, and +one day, after a very vivid illustration of this kind, he said softly to +himself, yet with intense conviction:</p> + +<p>"Women are inscrutable creatures! I doubt if I know anything about +them." And perhaps these very words were "the call" for the wider and +sadder knowledge that awaited him.</p> + +<p>On Saturday he prepared to go to Glasgow to fulfil his usual duty in the +Church of the Disciples; but his study of unbelief had got a stronger +hold on his mind than he recognized. For the first time in all his +ministry he felt a slight reluctance for spiritual work. But Mrs. Caird +did not encourage this feeling, she was too anxious about Donald to miss +his father's report of him, though she always discounted the same. But +she reminded him for his comfort that when he returned from Glasgow on +Monday he would find Marion at home to welcome him.</p> + +<p>"I expect that," he answered promptly. "If I am disappointed I shall go +to Cramer Hall for her."</p> + +<p>However, very early on Monday morning Mrs. Caird saw Marion and Lord +Cramer from afar, riding very slowly over the brae and, apparently, +engaged in a conversation that admitted of none of the little +irregularities of light or fugitive intercourse. Their attitude as they +came nearer was distinctly, though unconsciously, that of lovers; and +when Mrs. Caird met them she saw with delight the sunshine on their +faces, mingling with a glory and radiance far sunnier from within; and +heard the pride and tenderness in Lord Cramer's voice as he said, "Good +morning, Mrs. Caird, I have brought Marion safely back to you."</p> + +<p>"You have done well," she answered. "The Minister was wearying for her."</p> + +<p>"How soon will he return from Glasgow? I wish to speak with him."</p> + +<p>"His times are not set times; he comes this hour, and that hour. He +deviates a good deal and, as for speech with him, you had better choose +any day but Monday."</p> + +<p>"Why not Monday, Mrs. Caird?"</p> + +<p>"Because a Minister's stock of loving kindness is apt to be low on +Monday, and he is tired and not disposed to frivol, or talk of unsacred +things."</p> + +<p>"But I want to talk to him of the most sacred of all mortal things. I am +sure Dr. Macrae will be reasonable on any day of the week."</p> + +<p>"There is a likelihood, but I have lived long enough in this astonishing +world to observe that the head and the heart do not run over at the same +time; and men keep their reasonable judgment the while. There's luck in +leisure, Lord Cramer. Take my advice and leisure awhile."</p> + +<p>Then Lord Cramer led Marion to the little summer house, and Mrs. Caird +left them to give some orders concerning lunch, but when it was ready +she saw Cramer riding away from the gate, and Marion, still in her +habit, standing there watching him. Hearing her aunt's footsteps she +turned, went to her side and, kissing her, said, "Dear Aunt, I am glad +to be with you again."</p> + +<p>"Then we are both glad, and your father will be glad also. Run upstairs +and take off your hat and that width of trailing broadcloth. Then come +and get a good lunch."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Marion appeared at the table in the simplest of her +home dresses and, with a sigh of pleasure, said again, "Oh, but I am +glad to be with you, Aunt!"</p> + +<p>"Yet you had a happy time at Cramer Hall?"</p> + +<p>"Richard was there. That was enough."</p> + +<p>"And many other pleasant people?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And Lady Cramer?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think she had a nice time. She was weary of company, and it +was an effort for her to be quite polite during the last week."</p> + +<p>"You ought, then, to have come home."</p> + +<p>"I had no excuse for doing so."</p> + +<p>"And you had an excuse for staying, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Lord Cramer?"</p> + +<p>"He begged me to stay. And, as I am going to marry him, I did what he +desired, of course."</p> + +<p>"Of course. And, of course, you will do what your father desires?"</p> + +<p>"If Father is reasonable."</p> + +<p>"The Fifth Command says you are to obey your father, and it does not +make any exceptions as to whether he is reasonable or unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"I intend to marry Richard, and no other man in all the wide world."</p> + +<p>"You do not require to be so pointed about it. There is no one here +wishes to prevent you."</p> + +<p>"No one can prevent me, Aunt. I love Richard and he loves me. We fell in +love with each other the moment we met."</p> + +<p>"That is the right way. I like men that go over head and ears at first +sight. Most take little careful steps, hesitating, fearing, one at a +time. Cowardly lovers! No woman wants such. She just looks scornfully at +them, and then turns her eyes toward something pleasanter."</p> + +<p>All afternoon they talked on this and kindred subjects, and the time +went so rapidly that the clock struck five before Mrs. Caird reflected +that the Minister was two or three hours behind his usual time. What was +keeping him? What was wrong? Then she began to worry about Donald; for, +if anything usual becomes unusual, our first thought is not—what is +right? or what is happy or profitable? but, always, what is wrong? And +Mrs. Caird's anxieties drifted to the youth she loved so dearly.</p> + +<p>"I wonder! I wonder whatever is wrong, Marion? Your father is always +home by three, or at most four o'clock. I am feared something is wrong +with Donald." And, in spite of Marion's optimistic persuasions, she was +constantly asking her heart this woeful question. From the door to the +gate she went with tiresome frequency, but it was after eight o'clock +ere she saw two men walking leisurely toward the house. The twilight was +over the earth, and nothing was very clear, but she knew them. Hurrying +into the house she called to Marion in a voice of great pleasure and +excitement:</p> + +<p>"Your father is coming! And Donald is with him! And what can that mean?"</p> + +<p>"Something good, Aunt."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Caird did not hear her. She was ordering this and that luxury, +which she knew would be welcome to the belated travelers, and she had +the natural wisdom and good-nature which never once asked, "What kept +you so late?" She was satisfied with their presence, and with the fact +that both were happy, and in the most affectionate mood with each other. +She placed Donald's chair beside her own and, when he touched her hand, +or smiled in her face, or whispered, "Dear, dear Aunt!" she had a full +payment for all her anxious hours about him.</p> + +<p>It was not until Marion and Donald had gone to their rooms that the +Minister felt inclined to explain his tardy return from the city. "I was +afraid you would be anxious, Jessy," he said; and she answered, "Not +about you, Ian. I knew you were all right, but I was feared about +Donald. I thought something was wrong with him, and I could not fix on +any particular danger. I thought of the trains and the sea, but someway +they both assured my mind they were innocent of doing him any harm. The +trouble was an unknown one. What was it, Ian?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, Jessy. Donald has not been behaving himself after the ways +and manners approved of by the Reids."</p> + +<p>"I never yet heard any word of the Reids being set for our example. What +way was Donald breaking their laws?"</p> + +<p>"It seems, Jessy, that last Wednesday night there was some kind of civic +anniversary—the Provost's birthday, or the birthday of some great man +or other. I have totally forgotten the name or event. And serenading +came into the thoughts of Donald and four others, and they lifted their +violins and went together to the Provost's house. As it happened, he was +eating a late supper after his speech in the City Hall, and the lads +played and sang the songs in every Scotsman's heart. And there were +three or four of his cronies with the Provost and, when the lads had +sang twice over,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>they brought in the singers and made them sit and drink a glass of toddy +at their table, and the Provost thanked them heartily and gave them a +five-pound note to share between them."</p> + +<p>"That was fine! The Provost is a gentleman. And he knew how to win the +hearts of the Scotch laddies growing up to be good Scotchmen. Who were +the five lads, Ian?"</p> + +<p>"Donald was the leader, and there were with him Matthew Ballantyne, +David Kerr, John Montrose, and Allan Reid, all of them members of my +Wednesday night Bible class."</p> + +<p>"Then I cannot believe they did anything much out of the way, unless the +Reids' way is narrower than the Bible way."</p> + +<p>"After they left the Provost's, Donald suddenly bethought himself that +it was also his Uncle Hector's birthday, and they all went to his big +house in Blytheswood Square. There was a light in his parlor; for, you +know, he always reads until the new day is born, and this night he was +reading 'Nicholas Nickleby,' and laughing with himself over that insane +<i>Mark Tapley's</i> pretenses to be jolly. Suddenly the violins asked +sweetly and passionately, 'Wha Wadna Fecht for Charlie'? The old man +took no notice. Then they all together began to merrily tell him,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">''Twas up the craggy mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And down the wooded glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They durst na go a-milking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Charlie and his men.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And by the time they had finished this delightful complaint, and Donald +had lifted his voice to assert that,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Geordie sits in Charlie's chair,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and exhorted all true Hieland men,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Keep up your hearts, for Charlie's fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come what will, you've done what's right,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>a crowd had gathered. For, you know, Jessy, how Donald can sing men out +of themselves, and the crowd began to sing with him, so that this +passionate little rant filled the square. Windows were lifted, and doors +flung open, and men and women at them joined heartily in the song."</p> + +<p>"And wherever were the constables?"</p> + +<p>"They were singing with the crowd, and no necessity for them to +interfere. It was a perfectly orderly crowd, singing their national +songs, and when they had finished</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and fervently assured each other they,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'For Scotland's King and law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freedom's sword would strongly draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free men stand, and free men fa','<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>my Uncle Hector threw wide his door, and bid the lads into his parlor.</p> + +<p>"He is a grand old pagan—I mean saint."</p> + +<p>"Say what you mean, Jessy. Donald says he looked proudly at him, and he +thought for a moment he was going to kiss him, but instead of that +ceremony, which might have been a little abashing and confusing to the +lad, his uncle led him to the hearth and, pointing to two swords crossed +over the chimneypiece, he said:</p> + +<p>"'Look well at them, Hieland laddies! They were in the hands of +Alexander and Fergus Macrae when they fought to the death for King James +and Prince Charlie. God rest their souls!'"</p> + +<p>At these words the Minister became silent, words appeared to choke him, +and his eyes held a glimpse of the old dead world of his fathers. Jessy, +also, was speechless, but their silence was fitter than any words could +be.</p> + +<p>In a short time the Minister steadied himself and proceeded: "The four +young men with Donald doffed their bonnets, and looked silently at the +weapons that had come home red from Culloden's bloody field, and were +still holding the red rust of carnage; but Donald stretched up his hand +and touched them reverently, and then kissed his hand, and he told me +his tears wet the kiss, and that he was proud of them—and really, +Jessy, my own eyes were not dry—and a wave of—love came over me—and +I—before I knew it—had clasped Donald's hand and I think—yes, I am +sure, I kissed him! I wonder at myself! Whatever made me do it?"</p> + +<p>"The love of God, Ian, which is the love of all good and gracious +things. The love of God, which is the love of your son, and the love of +your country, and the love of all the noble feelings for which men dare +to die, and go and tell <i>Him</i> so. And what next, Ian? What next?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Hector called his valet, and bid him 'Bring in the punch bowl,' +but Donald said they had drank from the Provost's bowl all that was good +for them. The old man then asked them to play him a reel, and off went +'The Reel of Tullochgorum.' One of the boys from the orchestra played, +and the other four danced it with wonderful spirit and, though my uncle +did not try the springing step, he snapped the time with his fingers and +beat it with his feet and was in a kind of transfiguration. After the +dance they sang 'Auld Lang Syne' together, and then the old man was +weary with his emotion and he said:</p> + +<p>"'Good boys! Good night! You have given my old age one splendid hour of +its youth back again! My soul and my heart thank you, and here is a +ten-pound note to ware on yourselves and good Scotch music'; and so with +a 'God bless you all!' he bid them good-bye!"</p> + +<p>"It was a splendid hour and he did well to ware ten pounds on it."</p> + +<p>"Elder Reid did not think so and, after the Sabbath service, he asked me +to give him half-an-hour's conversation at his office in the morning. I +thought it was concerning Allan and Marion, but Donald, on Sabbath +night, told me about the serenade, and so I went to Reid's office in the +morning quite prepared for the subject of offense."</p> + +<p>"Did Elder Reid say anything about your uncle?"</p> + +<p>"He said only think of that old pagan, Hector Macrae, giving the ranting +boys ten pounds of good money!"</p> + +<p>"'<i>Major Macrae</i>,' I corrected. 'He won his title on memorable +battlefields, Elder, and he has every right to it.' And, I added, 'He is +far from being a pagan. I wish we all loved God as sincerely as he +does.' Then Reid cooled a little, and answered, 'You know, Minister, it +would have been almost a miracle if he had given ten pounds to our +Foreign Mission Fund. I asked him myself one day, and he pretended to be +deaf, and would say nothing but 'Eh? What? I don't hear you! I'm vera +busy!' and so to his bills and papers without even a 'Seat yourself, +Elder,' and not a penny for the Foreign Mission Fund.'"</p> + +<p>Jessy laughed, a queer, indeterminate little laugh, and the Minister +looked at her doubtfully, and then continued, "I reminded him that the +Major gave with both hands to our Home Missions, and that men gave as +their hearts moved them; also, that Christ considered Home Missions had +the prior claim, 'First at Jerusalem,' and so also first in Glasgow, and +then in India. 'We are getting off our subject,' I said to him and he +answered crossly, 'An altogether silly subject, kissing old swords, +dancing old reels, snapping fingers and the like of such old world +nonsense. I think Major Macrae forgot his duty, he should have +admonished the young men, and not encouraged them in their +foolishness.'"</p> + +<p>"What did you say to that, Ian?" asked Mrs. Caird.</p> + +<p>"I reminded him that, in Leviticus, nineteenth chapter and fourteenth +verse, it is written, 'Thou shalt not curse the deaf'; and I added, 'The +absent are also the deaf, they cannot speak for themselves. I need say +no more to you, Elder.' And he begged pardon, and admitted he might be +judging Major Macrae wrong, for it was true a great many people thought +him a perfect saint; and I said, 'You know, Elder, that a country is in +a poor way when its religious life does not blossom in saints.'"</p> + +<p>"Was Donald in the office when you went there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw him counting up a line of figures as I passed his desk, and +I felt sorry for the boy."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that, Ian. It was the best sign of grace you have had for +a long time."</p> + +<p>"Do not say such a thing as that, Jessy. I love my son with my whole +heart. My life for his, if it were necessary."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Ian! I believe you. What was the Elder wanting to talk to +you about?"</p> + +<p>"He asked, first, if I had spoken plainly to Marion concerning his +son's offer. I told him I had no opportunity to do so, as she had been +visiting Lady Cramer for the past three weeks. Then he continued to urge +Allan's claims until I grew weary of the talk, and I finally said——"</p> + +<p>"That Marion must not be forced to marry anyone, surely you said that +much, Ian?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite that, Jessy. I promised to stand by Allan and to urge Marion +to favor him, but I added, 'There is a certain right, Elder, which draws +a girl to the <i>one man</i> in the world for her. It is not much believed +in, but perhaps it is the only Divine Right in this world.' He seemed +puzzled at my remark, and I did not explain it. Then he was huffy, and +said he would make free to call my 'Divine Right' Richard Cramer, a poor +lord, with all his income mortgaged, and no morality to balance his +poverty."</p> + +<p>"You could have cleared yourself on that score. Why did you not tell him +you were as much against Lord Cramer as he could be?"</p> + +<p>"I was angry at the purse-proud creature, and I would say neither good +nor ill of Lord Cramer. I let him see, and feel, I thought his words and +temper very unbecoming in the Senior Elder of the Church of the +Disciples, and so left him feeling very uncomfortable."</p> + +<p>Then Jessy looked admiringly at her brother-in-law. She knew well how +"uncomfortable" he could make people under his Scriptural reproofs.</p> + +<p>"How was it Donald got home with you?" she asked. "Was the little favor +a propitiation for the Elder's unguarded temper? Did the Elder know he +was coming?"</p> + +<p>"As I left him, I said, 'I will tell Donald to meet me at Stewart's for +lunch, and I will give him suitable counsel, Elder'; and the man was on +his highest horse at once, and answered, 'I hope you will, sir. For your +sake, I should hate to send Donald off, but I must do so if he leads my +son into any more ridiculous tom-fooleries. Allan has a tender +conscience, and he felt he had done wrong, so he came straight to me and +made his confession. I hope Donald will be equally frank with you.'"</p> + +<p>"So Donald lunched with you at Stewart's? I am proud of that occurrence, +Ian."</p> + +<p>"I was proud likewise. There were over a dozen ministers present, and +they all looked up and looked pleased when we entered the room together. +Every one had a word of praise and hope for Donald, and nearly all said, +'You will be for St. Andrews, Donald, no doubt.' I am afraid I had more +personal pride in the lad's beauty, fine carriage, and fine manner than +I ought to have had, but——"</p> + +<p>"Not any too much. What advice did you give him?"</p> + +<p>"None of any kind. I do not think Donald did anything wrong. If Elder +Reid has fears for his son, let him look after him. I certainly told +Donald that the Elder would send him off if he tempted his son Allan +again; and perhaps I let Donald see and feel that I should not be +grieved at all if he relieved Mr. Reid's anxiety about his son's +morals."</p> + +<p>"Did Donald understand you?"</p> + +<p>"He said, 'Thank you, Father!' And then I remarked you were wearying to +see him, and that I would wait in Bath Street until three o'clock if he +wished to go to Cramer with me."</p> + +<p>"But did you not come by that train?"</p> + +<p>"No. I saw that Donald could not forego the pleasure of 'sending himself +off' and this he could not do until Reid returned to his office after +the lunch hour."</p> + +<p>"I hope he kept in mind the fact that Mr. Reid is your chief Elder, and +used few and civil words as became his youth and his position."</p> + +<p>"He behaved like a gentleman. He apologized for asking his son to join +the serenading party, and begged leave to resign his stool in the office +lest he might offend again. And the Elder was much annoyed, and replied +that he hoped he would remain; for, Jessy, I am sure he was in his heart +very proud of Allan being invited into the Provost's parlor to eat and +drink with the notables there."</p> + +<p>"Certainly he was, and he will talk of the lad's capers as long as he +lives, and in a little while both Allan and his father will have come to +believe that the whole affair was of Allan's planning and management."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt of it. Donald, however, refused even his offer of a +higher salary to begin in September and, bowing respectfully, left him +alone with his disappointment and chagrin. As he was going through the +office, Allan called him, and then Donald's temper got a little beyond +his control, and he walked near to where Allan sat among the clerks, and +said, 'I have no words for a tale-bearer, Allan Reid. He is always a +contemptible fellow, and I warn you, gentlemen, that you are with a spy +and a mischief-maker.' That is the end of the circumstance, Jessy."</p> + +<p>"You little know whether it is the end or the beginning, Ian."</p> + +<p>"As far as Donald is concerned, I mean. He came to me radiantly happy +and satisfied with himself and, after we had drank a cup of tea, we came +leisurely home."</p> + +<p>"Very leisurely. I'll admit that. Well, we have to take ourselves as we +are and other people as we can get them, and it is not always an easy +job."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Jessy, there is scarcely anything that is at the same time more +wise and more difficult."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE GREAT TEMPTATION</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Love not, love not! Oh, warning vainly said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In present years, as in the years gone by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love flings a halo round the dear one's head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faultless, immortal—till they change or die."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>It was a warm, sunny day in August, and the slim and graceful Adalaide, +Lady of Cramer, was waiting and watching for Dr. Macrae. She had a new +purpose in her heart, and it was evident not only in her eyes, which +were full of a soft blue fire—languid yet masterful—but also in her +dress, from which every trace of black had been eliminated. In a soft +flowing gown of white lawn and lace, with belt and bows of white satin, +she looked fresh and lovely as a flower on the day of its birth.</p> + +<p>"Take my book and work-basket to the Ladies' Rest, Flora," she said to +her maid, "and if there are callers, they may come to me. Tell Brodie to +attend them."</p> + +<p>The Ladies' Rest was a circle of wonderful turf in the very center of +which stood a gigantic oak, whose far-stretching branches kept the +circle in a dreamy, shadowy peace. Near the heart of the circle there +were seats, and a small table, and my Lady, standing in white on its +green turf, with the green and golden lights of the garden all around +her, was as fair a creature as mortal eyes could desire to see.</p> + +<p>When left alone her elfin prettiness became particularly noticeable, for +she was practicing her bewildering ways to her own thoughts, her manner +being at one moment arch and coquettish, and at the next pensive and +affectionate; practicing all her small facial arts with the +predeterminate aim and intention of capturing the hitherto impregnable, +insensible heart of the handsome Minister.</p> + +<p>He was quite unconscious of the danger into which he was walking, and +his thoughts were on the eternities, and the tremendous destinies that +are connected with them. The gravity induced by such thoughts was +becomingly dignified, and Lady Cramer thought him handsomer than even +her imagination had painted him. Certainly he was worth captivating, and +she was resolved to effect this purpose. Indeed she wondered at herself +for not having accomplished such a delightful triumph before.</p> + +<p>But, if she had honestly examined her dilatory movement in this +direction, she would have known that it was caused by facts brought +vividly to her notice during the past few weeks, when Cramer Hall had +been filled with company of a pleasantly mixed character—young nobles +and soldiers, and many types of beautiful and eligible young ladies. +Every one, then, had regarded her as a kind of matron, and she found all +her pretenses to be yet of the younger set quietly put aside. She was +admired and treated with the greatest respect, but no one made love to +her; and she was piqued and humbled by this neglect.</p> + +<p>"Because I am thirty-two," she said to herself, "because I am +thirty-two, I was treated like an old lady. The insolence of youth is +intolerable!" Then she heard steps upon the flagged walk and, turning, +saw the stately, rather somber figure of the man whose conquest she was +meditating approaching her. She met him with charming smiles, and little +fluttering attentions and, in words soft and hesitating, tried to hide, +and yet to express her great joy in his presence. "It is so long—so +long—since I saw you! I have felt desolate and, oh, so lonely!"</p> + +<p>"Lonely! You have had so much pleasant company."</p> + +<p>"But <i>you</i> never came—not even when I wrote and asked you—did you know +how cruel you were? My company was young and thoughtless—no one cared +for me—I longed to see your face you never came—I have been very +lonely—but <i>now</i>! Oh, you cannot tell what a pleasure it is to have +someone to talk to who does not regard tennis and golf as the chief end +and duty of man," and she smiled and laid her jeweled white hand +confidingly on his.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"She smiled and laid her jeweled white hand confidingly +on his"</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>He was much astonished, but also greatly touched, by her frankness and +evident joy in his presence; and, as any other man would have done, he +accepted her gracious kindness without doubt or consideration. Her +pretty face, full of sympathetic revelations, and her flattering words +went like wine to his head and heart, his eyes dilated with pleasure, +and he clasped the hand she had laid upon his own. Its soft warmth, its +slight pressure, the tender smile on her lips, the love light in her +eyes, were to his starving soul irresistible temptations. But he never +thought of these things as temptations; if he had done so, there was in +him a Will gigantic enough to have put them behind him. As a man dying +of thirst would have seized a glass of cold water, so his soul, +famishing for love, took hastily, greedily, the astonishing blessing +offered him. Scarcely could he believe in his happiness; yet fast, oh, +so fast, he forgot everything before this hour! And when he left Cramer +it was with his heart like a spring brimming over with love.</p> + +<p>Under the sweet strength of the stars he walked home. He felt that he +could not meet Mrs. Caird until he had communed with himself in the +silence and solitude of the night. His whole life, without his +expectation or conscious desire, had been changed. Something wonderful +had taken place. He thought he had loved before, but this startling, +unforeseen, and unmistakable passion filled him with rapture and a kind +of sacred fear. He had in no way sought it. By some Power far above him +it had been sent. Yet his beating heart, his strange joy, his firm step, +active brain, and glad outlook on life taught him that all the long +years of his ascetic rejection of love must have been a mistake.</p> + +<p>When he reached home he had not decided whether it would be prudent to +tell his sister-in-law of the new joy that had come into his life. His +nature was reticent, and he felt a keen personal pleasure in the secrecy +of his love. He did not dream of her suspecting or discovering it. He +found her sitting on the little porch absolutely idle. He was astonished +at the circumstance, and more so at her face and manner, which were both +sad and weary.</p> + +<p>"Are you sick, Jessy," he asked, "or have I stayed too long at the +Hall?"</p> + +<p>"You are sooner home than I expected. How are all there?"</p> + +<p>"No one is there at present but Lady Cramer. We had dinner together, and +I came away as soon as I could well leave. She is very lonely."</p> + +<p>"So am I, for that matter."</p> + +<p>"Marion is with you."</p> + +<p>"In a way, not much. Her heart is at Oban or thereabout."</p> + +<p>"Lady Cramer told me that Lord Cramer and Donald had gone on a tramp +together. They are walking through the western highlands. It did not +please me."</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is strengthening Donald's love of adventure and change. I +wanted him to rest quietly here until we returned to Glasgow. Then I +hoped he would be willing and glad to enter St. Andrews, and to settle +down to the life I intended for him."</p> + +<p>"If he had stayed here, I think he would have regarded St. Andrews with +delight. The company of hundreds of young men, the pleasant city, and +the fine golf ground would make St. Andrews—after a month of this +place—a very Elysium of satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"I thought this place was like the Garden of Eden to you."</p> + +<p>"I don't blame Eve, if it is. All right for a settled woman like me, and +yet I, myself, am missing my afternoon callers and the library. And the +two lasses are growing surly for want of company. Aileen was saying an +hour ago that, 'If there was only a constable, and a hand-organ passing +now and then,' she could bear the loneliness better."</p> + +<p>"As for me, I like it more and more. I am thinking of asking the Church +to get a supply for a month. I feel a little rest to be necessary."</p> + +<p>"I feel as if I had had enough of the country."</p> + +<p>"What does Marion say?"</p> + +<p>"She is as happy here as anywhere. All places are wearisome to those who +live for a person who is not in the place."</p> + +<p>"And Lady Cramer tells me that her stepson is miserable if he is not +with Donald. She says they are inseparable and very unhappy if apart."</p> + +<p>"Like to like, the wide world over."</p> + +<p>"But they are not alike."</p> + +<p>"You do not know your son. I do. But if you take a month's rest here, +you might get through that weary, useless reading of silly books and +sillier manuscripts."</p> + +<p>"I hope it is not useless reading, Jessy. Every book that discredits +scientific theology adds to the evidences of Christianity."</p> + +<p>Then Jessy lost control of herself, for she answered angrily, "Do you +think, Ian, that I have not read 'Evidences'? Let me tell you how I felt +after reading Paley's. I just thought it <i>probable</i> that Christianity +<i>might</i> be true. That was only an opinion, but let a man or woman <i>do</i> +God's will, until He speaks within them like a living voice, and then +they will <i>know</i> there is a God."</p> + +<p>"But, Jessy,——"</p> + +<p>"Don't interrupt me. I must tell you the truth. Upon my word, I believe +you are training yourself to the habit of doubting much and believing +little. You have dropped words lately I did not like, and I do not like +your selfishness about your children. I have always noticed, as +religious faith dies, selfishness takes the place of self-sacrifice. +There were the Dalrys! Their children were lost to everything good, +because they were forced to marry where they did not love. What have you +got to do with Marion's love? I wonder sometimes if you ever loved my +little sister! I am doubting it."</p> + +<p>"Jessy,——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am doubting it. You thought it no sin to urge her to leave +father and mother, and go away with yourself, though the Bible lays it +down as the <i>man's duty</i> to leave father and mother for his wife's sake. +Marion wants to do nothing worse than you begged Agnes to do. There is a +change—a change for the worse—in you, Ian. I cannot just put my finger +on it, but I feel it. Yes, I feel it."</p> + +<p>"That may be so, Jessy. We all change, and no wrong done by it. We must +in some way carry about with us the aura of any book that takes +possession of our thoughts or feelings. The doubtful books I have been +reading so steadily have their own influence—perhaps not a good one."</p> + +<p>"A very bad one."</p> + +<p>"In a way, you are right, Jessy. It makes me unhappy and uncertain, and +with a strong insistence leads me from one skeptical writer to another. +I wish to destroy them all!"</p> + +<p>"Ian, you are not the man appointed to destroy the devil. Keep yourself +out of his power, and leave the devil and all his books to God +Almighty."</p> + +<p>"Many of these skeptical books show a reverent spirit, Jessy."</p> + +<p>"I will not believe that. As far as I can judge, they are altogether +destructive. They have no business in this room, though in the libraries +of hell they ought to be given high place and honor."</p> + +<p>"The libraries of hell! What an idea!"</p> + +<p>"A very reasonable one. There are books that have slain more souls than +any man could slay—but——"</p> + +<p>"O Jessy, Jessy! Doubts will come, even if you fight them on your +knees—will come to thoughtful men and women; and doubt can only be +cured by investigation."</p> + +<p>"As far as I can see, the doubt of all Doubters is just the same, and +the Book of Job contains as much philosophy of that kind as the world is +ever likely to come to. But I notice that, as soon as doubting gets +hold of a man, he will believe anything, so long as it is <i>not</i> in the +Bible."</p> + +<p>"The 'Evidences of Christianity'——"</p> + +<p>"Ian, I have no patience with you. If there is anything plain and clear +in the religious teachings of the Bible, it is that religion proves +itself. Spiritual things are spiritually discerned, not intellectually. +If a man has had a good dinner, he knows it; there is no need to argue +about the matter. If a soul thirsts after righteousness and drinks of +the Waters of Life, it knows it, and is happy and satisfied; it does not +want evidences that it is so."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Jessy, but what is the matter with you to-night? You are +very queer—I may say 'cross.'"</p> + +<p>"I am neither queer nor cross. This afternoon, for a few moments, I lost +my bodily senses, and found <i>myself</i>—and I saw a black cloud coming +straight to our house—coming as if it knew just where to go—as if it +had been sent. And it entered the house, and I came to myself in a dream +and sweat of terror; and I am feared for my children, for they are heart +of my heart. And your selfish way with them both is enough to call some +tragedy, a deal worse than a marriage that does not suit you, or the +taking of his own way by a good, brave lad who is sure not to take a +wrong way, though it may not be the one you prefer."</p> + +<p>"Marion has no knowledge of the world, and it is my duty to stand +between her and the world."</p> + +<p>"Marion loves Richard Cramer, and if she is willing to thole his temper +and all the rest of his shortcomings, it is likely her appointed way +toward perfection—it seems to be God's commonest way of training women. +You do not require to bear with Cramer in any way. He will not trouble +you, for there is no doubt he thinks you as selfish and disagreeable as +you think him."</p> + +<p>"I dislike Lord Cramer for his immoralities."</p> + +<p>"God puts up with what you call his 'immoralities,' and I think you need +not be so strict to mark iniquity—if there is any. In my opinion, +Cramer is as good as the rest of men—fond of women's company, of +course, and, like Donald, daft about music and fine singing, but what +good man is not?"</p> + +<p>"As for Donald, I only ask him to walk in my own footsteps."</p> + +<p>"They are over-narrow for him."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, he shall tread in them or make his own way. I have money +to send him to St. Andrews and give him every advantage. He can go there +next month—or he can go to the ends of the earth."</p> + +<p>"Then he will go to the ends of the earth. But take heed to my words, +Ian Macrae, you will not escape the sorrow of it. However you may try +to comfort yourself, you will not be able to forget the loving, +handsome lad who stands at your side to-day like a vision of your own +youth."</p> + +<p>"I had a very happy afternoon, and you have completely spoiled it, +Jessy."</p> + +<p>"You can have a happy afternoon to-morrow, and every day, if you wish +it, but if you ruin your children's lives you can never, never undo that +wrong. Have some pity on yourself, if you have none on them."</p> + +<p>"I will not be bullied into doing what I know to be unwise, Jessy. I am +considering the whole life of my children, not a few weeks or months of +youth's illusory dreams and temptations. Donald, as a man, will have the +privilege of making a choice; as for Marion, I shall insist on her +accepting a marriage which will shelter her as far as possible from all +the ills of life."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that you will make her marry that lying, sneaking, +tale-telling cub, Allan Reid?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. His faults grew out of his jealousy of Donald's beauty and +cleverness. He confessed his fault to me and I forgave him. All stands +as it stood before that disagreeable evening. He said Donald was very +scornful and provoking. I can believe it."</p> + +<p>"I hope he was." Then she laughed, and added, with an air of +satisfaction: "Donald has a way of his own. He can be very civil, and +very unbearable. I have seen him——," and she laughed again at the +memory.</p> + +<p>"I am going to my room, Jessy. I have said all I have to say on these +subjects."</p> + +<p>"Will you have some bread and milk first?"</p> + +<p>"No. I had an excellent dinner. It was late also. You have made me +wretched, Jessy."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Ian. But, as it concerns the children, we are pulling at +opposite ends of the rope."</p> + +<p>"They are <i>my</i> children. You will kindly remember that fact, Mrs. +Caird." He spoke with a haughty determination and left her without even +his usual perfunctory "good night." She was troubled by his somewhat +unusual show of temper, and the noble repose of the night had no note of +comfort for her. The silence of the far-receding mountains, the murmur +of the streams, the air of lonely pastoral melancholy, with a light like +dreamland lying over all, did not help her wounded feelings. The Scot +does not ask Nature for comfort in any heart sorrow; there is the Book, +and the God of his Fathers. But Jessy Caird had not yet arrived at the +point where she felt her exigencies beyond her own direction.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes she saw Dr. Macrae light his room, and through its open +window there came the odor of a fine cigar. "After the manner of men," +she muttered. "They don't permit a woman to smoke—if she is worried or +ill-tempered—it is not ladylike. And I'm wondering what improves its +manners so as to make it gentleman-like. Men are selfish creatures, all +of them, not one good, no, not one!"</p> + +<p>Then she rose and rather noisily locked the door; she hoped that Dr. +Macrae would hear her, and so come and attend to what he considered his +duty when at home. But Dr. Macrae was lying on the sofa smoking and +dreaming of Lady Cramer's beauty, and that night he did not care who +locked the door. The huge key turned, the bolts slipped into their +places, and she went upstairs, full of indignation at her +brother-in-law. She could not understand his mood; for she remembered +that in spite of the gravity of the subjects on which they had disagreed +there was an air of yawning and boredom about him. It was evident to her +that they were intruding on some subject much more interesting.</p> + +<p>At that hour she was trying to find out what really filled her with +forebodings. Little wondering, wandering thoughts about some change in +her brother-in-law had flitted for two weeks in and out of her +consciousness. But all his slight deviations from the natural and usual +were as nothing in comparison with the change she perceived this night. +Then, in the midst of her trifling suppositions, there was suddenly +flashed across her mind a few words she never doubted: "<i>He is in love +with Lady Cramer! He intends to marry her!</i>"</p> + +<p>The clue had been given and she followed it out. She thought she now saw +clearly why Macrae was so determined to marry Marion to Allan Reid. He +was going to marry into the Cramer family himself, and it would be most +disturbing and confusing if Marion did the same. It would be too much. +Though there was no legal barrier, there was a positive social one, so +vigilantly deterrent, indeed, that she was sure no such case had ever +been brought to the Minister's notice; and then she speculated a while +as to what would have been his action under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>As she slowly undressed she continued her relentless examination of the +supposed condition. "Why," she said to herself, "the silly jokes that +would be made about the relationships following the double marriage +would be just awful. Even his elders and deacons would hardly refrain +themselves. They would give him some sly specimens of their wit—and +serve him right, too; and I know well there are families in the Church +of the Disciples who would not feel sure in their particular consciences +whether such close marriages were quite right in the sight of God. They +will think, anyway, that the Minister ought to have been more careful +to avoid the appearance of evil, and they will be 'so sorry' and ask for +explanations, and say it is 'really so confusing.' Yes, I can see and +hear the great congregation of the Church of the Disciples all agog +about the Minister's queer marriage. As for myself, I shall tell any +unmarried man or woman who says what I don't like 'to look after their +own marriages'; and, if they are married, I will tell them to 'mind +their own business'; but this, or that, the clash and clatter will drive +a proud man like Ian to distraction. True, he is proud enough to strike +them dumb with a look. I'll never forget seeing him walk up to the +pulpit that Sabbath after he was made a D.D., and I mind well how he was +so dignified that pretty Martha Dean called him '<i>a procession of One</i>.' +The Church was down at his feet that day—and if he should marry my +Lady! I'll go into no surmises—things will be as ordered."</p> + +<p>Thus she followed her thoughts backward and forward until the night grew +chilly; then she began again her preparations for sleep, saying softly +to herself as she did so: "I am a wiser woman to-night than I was in the +morn. I know now why my poor little Marion is to be made to marry Allan +Reid, and, moreover, why her selfish father wants the marriage +immediately. It is to prevent the joking about his own marriage, for if +she got into the Cramer family first it would take a deal of courage to +marry his daughter's mother-in-law. My goodness! What a lot of quiet fun +and pawky jokes there would be passing round. I must talk it out with +Marion in the morning. I am going to sleep now—sleeping must go on, +whether marrying does—or not."</p> + +<p>In some respects Mrs. Caird's theory was wrong. It was likely that Dr. +Macrae had some nascent, unacknowledged admiration for Lady Cramer, but +never until that day had he hoped to marry her. Marriage had been so +long and so resolutely barred from his thoughts and feelings that it +took the encouragement of Lady Cramer to bring it to recognition in his +hopes and desires—so the selfishness Mrs. Caird presupposed had not +been in any way as yet conscious to him. The situation was sure to +present itself, but it had not yet done so. It was probable, also, that +it would affect him precisely as it affected Mrs. Caird, but how he +would meet or baffle it no one could say. A man in love cannot be +measured by those perfectly sane and cool; besides, love has secret keys +with which to meet difficulties.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Caird had determined to sleep well, but she was restless and had +disturbing dreams, for,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No tight-shut doors, or close-drawn curtains keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swarming dreams out, when we sleep."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And the calm freshness and beauty of the morning almost irritated her. +What did Nature care that she was unhappy, that she had painful puzzles +to solve, and the very unpleasant inheritance from yesterday to dispose +of? Still she was disposed to be reasonable, if others were. But Dr. +Macrae was neither ready nor wishful to bring questions so important to +a hurried and already inharmonious discussion. At that hour the affair +between Lady Cramer and himself was more hopeful than settled, her +affection being of a tentative rather than of an actual character. She +was as yet experimenting with her own heart, and the Minister's heart +was a necessary part of the trial, while his sublime confidence in her +little coquetries amused her.</p> + +<p>Breakfast was usually a very pleasant meal, but this morning all were +reserved and silent. Dr. Macrae knew the value of a cool indifference, +and he took refuge in that mood. Nothing interested him, he was lost in +thought, he answered questions in monosyllables, and placed himself +beyond conciliation in any form. Even Marion's remarks passed unheeded, +though his heart failed him when she laid her small hand on his and +asked softly,</p> + +<p>"Are you sick, dear Father?"</p> + +<p>"No," he answered, "I am in trouble."</p> + +<p>"Can I help you, Father? What is it? Tell me, dear."</p> + +<p>"I have brought up children, and they have rebelled against me." His +voice was sad and low with the pathetic reproach, and he rose with the +words and went to his study. Marion, with a troubled face, turned to her +aunt.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Come with me to my room, dear, and I will tell you what he means."</p> + +<p>"I think I know what he means," she replied as soon as they were alone. +"He is cross because I will not marry Allan Reid."</p> + +<p>"Can you not manage it, Marion? He has set his heart on that marriage."</p> + +<p>"I would rather die. You said you would stand by me."</p> + +<p>"So I will."</p> + +<p>"Why is Father so cruel to me?"</p> + +<p>"Because he wants, I think, to marry Lady Cramer."</p> + +<p>"Would you go away from Father in that case?"</p> + +<p>"Would I not?"</p> + +<p>"I should go with you, of course."</p> + +<p>"That stands to reason."</p> + +<p>"How do you know, Aunt? I mean, about Lady Cramer?"</p> + +<p>"I had a sure word. I do not doubt it."</p> + +<p>"Did my father tell you?"</p> + +<p>"No. It is a new thing yet; only a mustard seed now, but it will grow +to a great tree. It might have happened yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Longer ago than that, Aunt, at least on Lady Cramer's side. When I was +staying at the Hall she was cross because he did not come, and she +wanted to send for him, but Richard would not let her."</p> + +<p>"Why then?"</p> + +<p>"Because he said the company they had would be an offense to the +Minister, and the Minister would be unwelcome to the other guests. I +must write and tell Richard your suspicion. It may affect his +prospects."</p> + +<p>"No doubt it will, but, if he could marry you at once, it might prevent +the other marriage."</p> + +<p>"I see not how nor why."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Caird went pitilessly over the sensation the double marriage +would make not only socially, but in the Church of the Disciples. She +put into the mouths of its elders, deacons and members the foolish jibes +and jokes they would be sure to make. The riddling and laughter and +comedy sure to flow from the situation were vividly present to her own +imagination, and she spared Marion none of the scorn and indignation +they would evoke.</p> + +<p>"Just think, Marion," she continued, "of your father having to thole all +this vulgar tomfoolery—he, that never sees a flash of humor, however +broad and plain it may be. Some men would just laugh, and let the jokes +go by, but not so your father. They would be words in earnest to him, +and every word would be a whip lash. He would fret and fume and worry +himself into a brain fever, or he would fall into one of his miraculous +passions with some laughing fool, and there would be tragedy and ruin to +follow."</p> + +<p>Marion did not speak, but she was white as the white dress she wore. +Mrs. Caird looked at her and was not quite pleased with her attitude. +She had expected tears or anger, and Marion gave way to neither, but her +silence and pallor and a certain proud erectness of her figure spoke for +her. At this hour she was startlingly like her father. She had put +herself completely in his place, and was moved just as he would have +been by her aunt's scornful picture of the Church of the Disciples in a +jocular insurrection. So she looked like him. Quick as thought and +feeling, the soul had photographed on the plastic body the very +presentment of Ian Macrae. Her erect figure, her haughty manner, her +scornful and indignant expression, and her large dark eyes, full of +reproach, but quite tearless, were exactly the symptoms which he would +have manifested if subjected to a like recital. For it is the expression +of the human face, rather than its features, which makes its identity. +The face enshrined in our hearts, which comes to us in dreams, when it +has long moldered in the grave, is not the mechanical countenance of the +loved one—it is its abstract idealization, its essence and life—it is +the spirit of the face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Caird was astonished. It was a Marion she did not expect, but after +a few moments' silence she said, "You can see your father's position, +child?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can see it and feel it, too. He would be distracted with the +gossip and the disgrace of it."</p> + +<p>"Well, then?"</p> + +<p>"I must prevent it."</p> + +<p>"Would you marry Allan Reid?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What will you do?"</p> + +<p>"Stand by my father whatever befall, if he will let me."</p> + +<p>"And Lord Cramer?"</p> + +<p>"We can wait."</p> + +<p>"But if you married at once, the onus of such a condition as I have +pointed out would be on your father, and he would not face it for any +living woman. That stands to reason."</p> + +<p>"It is nineteen years since my mother died. He has given all those years +to Donald and myself. He gave us <i>you</i> for a mother, but he never gave +us a stepmother. He was good to us in that respect, and, though we may +not have known it, he may have had many temptations to alter his life +and he denied himself a wife for our sakes. I must stand by my father. +If he wishes to marry Lady Cramer, I will only express satisfaction in +his choice."</p> + +<p>"But if he insists on your marrying Allan Reid first?"</p> + +<p>"That I will not do. His hopes and desires are sacred to me. I shall +expect him to give to mine the same regard. I am sure he will do so. Why +do you not point out to him the results you have just made so plain to +me?"</p> + +<p>"Not I! I shall wash my hands of the whole affair. I wonder what kind of +mortals you Macraes are! I was trying to prepare some plain road for you +and your lover, and the thought of your father steps in between you and +you make him a curtsey, and say, 'Your will be it, Father.'"</p> + +<p>"Aunt, for a thousand years the father and the chief in my family have +been <i>one</i>. He has had the affection and the loyalty due to both +relations. My father is still to me <i>the</i> Macrae, and I owe him and give +him the first and best homage of my heart."</p> + +<p>"Goodness! Gracious! I am very sorry, Miss Macrae, I have presumed to +meddle in your affairs. I am only a poor Lowland Scot, ignorant of your +famous clansmen. I have seen some of them, of course, in the Glasgow and +Edinburgh barracks, but we called them 'kilties,' just plain kilties! +Good soldiers, I believe, but——"</p> + +<p>"Dear Aunt, you are making yourself angry for nothing at all. If you +think over what I have said, you will allow I am right."</p> + +<p>"I have something else to think over now, and I'll meddle no more with +other people's love affairs. There now—go away and let me alone—I want +no kissing and fleeching. You have cast me clean off—after nineteen +years——" and the rest of her complaint was lost in passionate sobs and +tears.</p> + +<p>Then Marion was on her knees, crying with her, and the upcome and +outcome was kisses and fond words and forgiveness. But do we forgive? We +agree to put aside the fault and forget it; the real thing is, we agree +to forget.</p> + +<p>After this common family rite Mrs. Caird washed her face and went down +to look after dinner, and as she did so she felt a little hardly toward +Marion, and her thoughts were grieving and reminiscent. "Oh, the +sleepless nights and anxious days I have spent for that dear lassie!" +she sighed; "and, now she is a woman, her lover and her father fill her +heart. I am just a nobody. Well, thank the Father of all, I gave my love +freely. I did not sell it, I gave it, and the gift is my reward. It is +more blessed to give than to receive."</p> + +<p>Marion, at her sewing, had thoughts not much more satisfactory. "Aunt +makes so much of things," she said to herself. "She is so romantic and +simple-minded, and she goes over the score on both sides; everything is +the very worst or the very best. I wish she would not talk so much about +Richard, and be always planning this and that for us. Oh, I ought to be +ashamed of such thoughts, and I am ashamed! Aunt Jessy has been my +mother, God bless her!" She had a few moments of repentant reflection +and resolutions, and then she continued them in a different way, saying +almost audibly: "My father! Oh, Aunt knows my father is different. His +blood flows through my heart. I am his child from head to feet. Aunt has +often told me so. She ought, then, to know I would stand by my father, +whomever he married."</p> + +<p>They had forgiven each other—but had they forgotten?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE MINISTER IN LOVE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The sun and the bees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the face of her love through the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shades of the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the poppy heads glowing between:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heart asked no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas full as the hawthorn in May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Life lay before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the hours of a long summer day."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>For a week there was no change in the usual course and tenor of life at +the Little House. Dr. Macrae read or wrote all morning, and after his +lunch he dressed with care and rode over to the Hall, took a late dinner +with Lady Cramer, and returned home about ten o'clock. He usually took a +manuscript with him, and often spoke of reading it to Lady Cramer. +Sometimes, also, he alluded to other company who were present, most +frequently to the elderly Earl Travers, whom he described as an +ultramontane Presbyterian. "He sits in a Free Church," he would say, +with a slight tone of anger, "but his place is in one of the churches +yet subject to Cæsar, not in a Free Church, which is a Law unto itself; +its title deeds being only in the Registry above." Marion was proud of +his enthusiasm, but Mrs. Caird told herself, privately, that Earl +Travers had no doubt stimulated its character. For it was evident he +disliked Travers on grounds more personal than the government of the +Church.</p> + +<p>Travers had been a close friend of the late Lord Cramer, and he took his +place quietly but authoritatively at the side of his widow; indeed it +appeared to Dr. Macrae that, on the very first night he met him at the +Hall, Lady Cramer referred questions to the Earl that might have been +left to his judgment. Even then, Dr. Macrae had an incipient jealousy of +the Earl, who had just returned from a twelve months' cruise, rich in +charming anecdotes of entertaining persons and events.</p> + +<p>Really, Travers was much interested by the Minister and, hearing that he +was going to preach in Cramer Church on the following Sabbath, he made +an engagement at once with Lady Cramer to go with her to the service. +She was delighted with the proposal and, with an intimate look at Dr. +Macrae and a private handclasp as she passed him, vowed it would be the +greatest pleasure the Earl could offer her. "I have always longed," she +continued, "to hear one of those famous sermons that are said to thrill +the largest congregations in Glasgow."</p> + +<p>Certainly Dr. Macrae was flattered and much pleased. He had no fear of +falling below any standard set up for him, yet he kept closely to +himself all the previous Saturday, for he was gathering together his +personality, so largely diffused by his late happiness, and flooding the +sermon he was to deliver with streams of his own feeling and intellect. +And, oh, how good he felt this exercise to be! For some hours he rose +like a tower far above the restless sea of his passions. He put every +doubt under his feet, he made himself forget he ever had a doubt.</p> + +<p>The next morning was in itself sacramental, a Sabbath morning</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"so cool, so calm, so bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bridal of the earth and sky,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>filled the soul with peace, and everywhere there was a sense of rest. +Even the cart horses knew it was Sunday, and were standing at the field +gates, idle and happy. In the pale sunlight the moor stretched away to +the mountains, and silent and serious little groups of people were +crossing it from every side, but all making for one point—Cramer +Church.</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae had been driven there very early and, during the hour before +service, he was in the small vestry at the entrance of the church, and +was, as he desired, left quite alone. In that hour he rose to the +grandest altitude of his nature and, when the cessation of footsteps +told him the congregation was gathered, he opened the vestry door. Then +a very aged elder set wide the pulpit door, and Dr. Macrae—tall, +stately, long-gowned and white-banded—walked with a serious +deliberation unto that High Place from which he was to break the Bread +of Life to the waiting worshipers before him. There was an irresistible +power, both in him and going forth from him, that drew everyone present +to himself. His burning, vehement spirit found its way in full force to +his face, and it infected, nay, it went like a dart, to souls sleepy and +careless in Zion.</p> + +<p>To the Episcopalian the prayers are everything; to the Presbyterian it +is the sermon; and there was a sigh of satisfaction when Dr. Macrae read +with clear, powerful enunciation the last four verses of the sixth +chapter of Hebrews, and boldly announced that he would speak "first of +<i>God the Chooser</i>, then of <i>God the Slain</i>, then of <i>God the +Comforter</i>."</p> + +<p>From these great seminal truths he reasoned of righteousness and +judgment to come with a penetrative, judicial power; but he quickly +passed this stage and entered into their enforcement with an +overwhelming insistence. Something was to be <i>done</i>rather than +explained. The sermon was almost fiercely theological, but through it +all there was that wonderfully inspired look, that diviner mind, that +"little more" which declares the Superman to be in control.</p> + +<p>Two remarks showed something of the personal struggle that he was going +through. Speaking of the doubting spirit prevalent in the whole +religious world, he said: "You will find in the words of my text the +remedy: that, by two immutable things in which it was impossible for God +to lie, we might have a strong consolation who have fled for refuge to +lay hold upon the hope set before us." And, again, very pointedly, he +asked: "When we have done wrong, how shall we remedy the wrong? I will +tell you. We must work day and night, as men work on a railway when the +bridge is broken down. For all traffic between our souls and heaven will +be interrupted until we get this ruin—this reason for God's +withdrawal—out of the way."</p> + +<p>The last sentences of his sermon were given to defending the creed of +his country, and the Minister who does this clasps the heart of his +people to him. He preached an hour and the time was as ten minutes. No +one moved until he closed the Book and, with a glowing face and a joyful +voice, gave the benediction.</p> + +<p>He looked ten years younger than he did when entering the pulpit. He +appeared to be much taller and of a larger bulk, and his face shone and +his eyes glowed with more than mortal light. For, at that hour of +superman control, the virtue of the spiritual erected and informed the +physical. The congregation longed to speak to him and to touch his hand, +but he walked through the gazing throng with uplifted face and towering +form, silent and enwrapt with his own power and eloquence, and, going +into the little vestry to unrobe, remained there until the Earl and Lady +Cramer had departed, and only a few humble and fervent worshipers +lingered thoughtfully among the graves in the churchyard. To these he +spoke, and they looked into his gracious, handsome face, touched almost +reverently the hand he offered and to their dying day talked of him as +of a man inspired and miraculous, a true Preacher of His Word.</p> + +<p>At his own door Marion met him with a kiss, a thing so unusual that it +had a kind of solemnity in it. "My good, wonderful father!" she +whispered, "there is no man can preach like you!" His heart beat +pleasantly to her love and admiration, and, though Mrs. Caird only +looked at him as he took his place at the table, he was as well +satisfied as he had been with Marion's greeting. He could see that she +had been weeping. The light of prayer was on her face, and from the +whole household he heard the silent psalm of thanksgiving.</p> + +<p>That day he remained at home, and on Monday he did the same. He thought +he was honestly "working day and night as men work on a railway when the +bridge is broken." Something had gone wrong between God and his soul. +The Power with the multitude which had been given him he still retained, +but that wonderful faculty within us which feels after and finds the +Divinity did not respond to his call. Yet he knew well that we have our +being in God, that God's ear lies close to our lips, that it is always +listening, that we sigh into it, even as we sleep and dream. Why did not +God give him again the personal joy of His salvation? He walked hour +after hour all Monday up and down his study, examining and defending +himself; for this attitude is almost certainly our first one when we +come penitently to God. Yet Dr. Macrae knew well that only with blinding +tears and breaking heart can the sinner go to His Maker and plead: "Cast +me not away from Thy Presence, take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore +unto me the joy of Thy Salvation."</p> + +<p>Tuesday he was physically weary and when he opened the book he was +considering, Hugh Miller's "Red Stone," he could not read it. The words +passed before his eyes, but his mind refused to notice them, and he +threw down the volume and resigned himself to religious reverie. His +eyes were on his closed Bible, and he was recalling in a regretful mood +the power and splendor of its promises and assurances. He was "feeling +after God, if haply he might find Him," trying to call up arguments for +his existence, his personality, His loving and constant interflow into +the affairs of men. But he had lost the habit of Faith, and was +continually finding himself face to face with the incomprehensible +problems which Science may propound but can never answer: Whence come +we? Whither do we go? Why was man created? Why does he continue to +exist? What has become of the vast multitudes of the dead? What will +become of the vaster multitudes that may yet tread the earth?</p> + +<p>But ever when he reached the outermost rim of this useless thought, +these awful and sacred questions still called to his soul for an answer. +Indeed, he felt acutely that he had not gained from Science any +intelligible religious system; nor yet any belief which he could +profess, or which he could defend from an assailant. He could find in it +nothing that a man could have recourse to in the hour of trouble, or the +day of death; and, when Mrs. Caird came into his study about the noon +hour, he felt compelled to speak to her. With a quick, nervous motion he +laid his hand upon some books at his side and complained wearily:</p> + +<p>"All they say about God is so terribly inadequate, Jessy."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is inadequate," she answered. "When men know nothing, how +can they teach, especially about Him,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">... 'Who, though vast and strange<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When with <i>intellect</i> we gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet close to the heart steals in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a thousand tender ways.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"O my dear sister, I am so miserable!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Ian, when we withdraw ourselves from that circle within which +the Bible is a definite authority, we must be miserable."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"We have then only a negative religion, and pray what is there between +us and the next lower down negation? And I assure you it would become +easy to repeat this descending movement again and again. Indeed, there +could be no reason for making a stand at any point, until——"</p> + +<p>"Until?"</p> + +<p>"The end!"</p> + +<p>"Then?"</p> + +<p>"There might come the dread of sliding away toward the brink—and over +the brink—of the precipice."</p> + +<p>"Then what help is there for a man who has taken this road ignorantly +and innocently?"</p> + +<p>And Jessy, with the light and joy of perfect assurance on her face, +answered, "There is the breadth, the depth, the boundless length, the +inaccessible height of Christ's love, which is the love of God."</p> + +<p>Ian did not answer immediately and, Mrs. Caird, walking to the window, +saw the Cramer carriage at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Lady Cramer is coming," she said. "I will go and meet her."</p> + +<p>Then Ian saw Lady Cramer fluttering up the garden walk, a lovely vision +in pink muslin and white lace, carrying a dainty basket of ripe apricots +in her hand. He thought he had not been looking for her visit, but Mrs. +Caird could have told him a different story. She knew by the care +bestowed on his morning toilet that he was expecting her, but she was a +considerate woman and made an excuse to leave them alone a few minutes.</p> + +<p>"I have come for Marion," she said. "I am going to do a little shopping, +and she has such good taste—and I thought you would like the +apricots—I expected you yesterday—I looked for you even Sunday. You +did not come—I was unhappy at your neglect."</p> + +<p>He stood gravely in front of her, looking down at her pretty, pleading +face, her beautiful hair, her garments of rose and white. He did not +speak. He was trying to recall the words he had resolved to say to her, +but, when she lifted her eyes, they hastened out of his memory; and when +she had laid her hand on his and asked, "Have I grieved you, my dear +Ian? Have you forgotten that you loved me?"</p> + +<p>"My God, Ada!" he cried in a low, passionate voice, "My God! I love you +better than my own soul."</p> + +<p>"You will dine with me this evening?"</p> + +<p>"This evening, yes, yes, I will come."</p> + +<p>"If you have any scruples—if you do not wish—if——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know well, Ada, that I am dying to come to you, to taste again +the sweetness of your embrace, to know the miraculous joy of your kiss. +You know, Ada, that you hold my heart in your small, open hands."</p> + +<p>"Ian, you are the greatest man in Scotland," she answered. "The Earl +says you have the eloquence of Apollo and the close reasoning of Paul."</p> + +<p>"And you, Ada?"</p> + +<p>"I have wanted to be good, Ian, ever since Sunday. Help me, dear one. I +am so weak and foolish."</p> + +<p>Then he took her in his arms and kissed his answer on her lips; and, in +a few moments, Mrs. Caird and Marion came laughing into the room. And it +is needless to say that in the evening Dr. Macrae took dinner as usual +with Lady Cramer. The hours they were together were really what Dr. +Macrae said they were, the happiest hours in all his life.</p> + +<p>They were indeed so mutually happy that Lady Cramer began this night to +take herself seriously to task after them. She dismissed her maid early, +saying, "I am sleepy," but she did not go to sleep. She wrapped herself +in a down coverlet and took an easy chair by an open window. The secret +silence of the night was what she wanted. It was the fifth day of the +moon, and its crescent moved with a melancholy air in the western +heavens, while the exquisite perfume of the double velvet rose scented +the cool air far and near. This rose is forgotten now, but then its +leaves were kept among a lady's clothing, and imparted to it an ethereal +fragrance far beyond the art of the perfumer. It was Lady Cramer's first +reflection.</p> + +<p>"The roses are in perfection," she thought, "the leaves must be gathered +to-morrow. They give my dresses the only scent I can endure. Ian always +notices it. He says it is so delicate and delicious that too much of it +would make him faint with pleasure. <i>Heigho!</i> I have had a few hours +that I dare not repeat. I am so susceptible—so foolish. This affair +must be stopped. I will not allow it to go further. I dare not. I should +become a Minister's wife if I did. Could I think of that? Decidedly not. +I love him, yes. I love him, but I cannot sacrifice my life to make his +life sweeter. Should I make it sweeter? I am sure I would not. Religion +is very well on a Sunday morning, nice and ladylike, and I generally +enjoy it; but every day in your life is too much. I endured eight years +with an old noble that I might get entry into his caste. I cannot throw +that privilege away for love. No, I must marry a duke—good-bye, my +handsome Ian! We have had some happy hours together—but it is now time +to part."</p> + +<p>She sat discussing this subject with what she called her "heart" till +long after midnight; then the still, sweet atmosphere was invaded by the +sudden impetuous trample of a ghostly wind. The moon had set, and the +sky was bending darkly over a darker world.</p> + +<p>"Those clouds terrify me," she whispered. "They seem to look angrily at +me. I shall have bad dreams if I do not go to bed"—and as she did so +she nervously continued her soliloquy. "I dare say this is the hour that +liberates ghosts; such a wind would open all the old doors in this old +house, and the old joys and sorrows would come out. It is not cannie. I +will sleep now, and to-morrow—I will get ready for London."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae had lingered long on the moor. He had refused the carriage, +feeling that physical motion was the imperative craving of the hour. But +he was in such a miraculous state of rapture that his walking was not +walking; he trod upon the air, the earth was buoyant under his feet. He +knew not, he asked not, whether he was in the body or out of the body. +The exquisite Adalaide loved him. She had promised to be his wife. With +a little cry of joy he recalled that ecstatic moment when she had kissed +on his lips the one little word which made all things sure.</p> + +<p>"This is love!" he cried joyfully, lifting his face to the heavens, "and +I have blamed and punished those who have fallen through love! O man +foolish and ignorant of the great temptation!"</p> + +<p>He did not sleep. He had neither the wish to sleep nor the need of it. +Never in all his life had he been so keenly alive, so stubbornly awake. +With a face of rapt expectancy he recalled the looks and words and +motions of Adalaide. She had said they would have a year's honeymoon +among the storied cities and churches of the Mediterranean, and he began +to consider what this proposal meant. Certainly it implied his +resignation from the pulpit of the Church of the Disciples. Could he +bear that? Would he like to sit and listen to other men preaching the +Word, while he sat silent? On the previous Sabbath he had shown forth +that irresistible ordination which comes through the call and Hand of +God. Could he deny this great honor and stand like a dumb dog in the +courts of the Lord?</p> + +<p>Was love indeed the greatest thing in the world? He was too honest a +thinker to admit this fallacy. In his own congregation he had seen love +set aside for duty, for gold, for power, and he knew young men and women +who had put love behind them in order to remain with helpless parents +and succor them. They had received from their fellow creatures no +particular praise nor indemnity, they had quietly resigned love for the +nobler virtue of duty. Women without number were constantly making this +sacrifice, and should he resign the helpfulness and honor of his +God-given office to this pretender of supreme earthly power? Positively +he refused to entertain for a moment the possibility of casting away the +work God had given him to do.</p> + +<p>When he came to this decision the day was sullenly breaking, and he +heard his sister-in-law's voice and the tinkle of the breakfast china. +Then came the call for coffee and he said: "It is just what I wanted, +Jessy. Are we not earlier than usual?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, "but I knew you were awake, and thought your coffee +would be welcome."</p> + +<p>"It is. Thank you, Jessy"; and the words were said so pleasantly she met +them with a smile and, as he seemed wishful to talk, she responded +readily to his desire.</p> + +<p>"Where is Marion?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"In the Land of Sleep and Dreams, wherever that is."</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows that, Jessy. There is so much we do not know, and never +can know, that striving for Truth is discouraging."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but when we cease striving for Truth we begin striving for +ourselves."</p> + +<p>"You reason well, Jessy. Have you studied logic?"</p> + +<p>"What would a woman want with the mere faculty of logic? It belongs to +lawyers and men educated in Edinburgh. I can draw an inference from +anything reasonable, but logic is beyond the straight-forwardness of +women and, also, the will of genius. When you were preaching last Sunday +your words were arrows of the Almighty, they did not fly according to +the rules of logic; if they had would they have found the hearts of the +people? I think not. When are we going back to Glasgow, Ian? I am +wearying for it all day long and, sitting alone at night, I would rather +hear the melancholy human noises of the street than the song of the +nightingale."</p> + +<p>"For two more Sabbaths, Jessy, there is a minister in my place. After +that we will go home."</p> + +<p>"What kind of a minister?"</p> + +<p>"A Free Church minister."</p> + +<p>"That stands to reason and goes without saying. I mean is he sure on +Moses and reverent with the Gospels? Is he a believer or a doubter? That +is what I mean."</p> + +<p>"Who can tell? If a good man doubts, he does not babble his doubts from +the pulpit."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing now, Ian?"</p> + +<p>"I am bringing dogmas to Scripture and trying to make Scripture agree +with them. People read too much now. When I was a lad, Joseph Milner's +'Church History,' and Newton on the 'Prophecies' were in every house. +They were good books, fragrant with home piety, and with their Bible +were all men and women wanted."</p> + +<p>"And now it is even fashionable to have a book against the Bible lying +on the parlor table. It is not a good change, Ian."</p> + +<p>"The change is the spirit of our era, Jessy, but God is directing it. We +can do nothing. We are only clay in the hands of the potter."</p> + +<p>"Even so, but the potter does not make vessels for the express purpose +of breaking them, and I am sure it is wrong to say, 'We can do nothing.' +Our influence, be it good or bad, has had a commencement, and it will +never have an end. I heard Dr. Wardlaw say that, and, also, that what is +done is done, and it will work with the working universe, openly or +secretly, forever. When Jethro, the Midianitish priest and grazier, +hired an Hebrew outlaw as his herdsman, he doubtless thought little of +the circumstance; but Moses still lives, and busies himself in the daily +business of all nations. Your work has been set you, Ian; hold fast your +faith in it, and do not dare to desert it."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking your thought an hour ago, Jessy. My will is to finish +the work given me to do. If I allowed my will to be overpowered by any +circumstance, I should be the sport of Fate. I should indeed be then +<i>Not Elect</i>." With these words he rose, straight and strong, full of +confidence in his own will to do right and, with an encouraging smile to +Jessy, he went to his study.</p> + +<p>It was a chill, dull day without sunshine, but Dr. Macrae carried his +own sunshine. The morning would get over, and Ada would be sure to send +a close carriage for him in the afternoon. Then he would bring to a +clear understanding the fact that marriage could not separate him from +his spiritual work. He was dressed and waiting long before he could +reasonably expect the carriage, but at three o'clock it had not arrived, +and he was so wretched he resolved to take the Victoria and drive over +to the Hall. As this intention was forming in his mind a servant from +Cramer brought him a letter. He opened it with anxious haste, and read +the following lines:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear, dear Ian</span>—I received this morning a most astonishing and +peremptory letter from my lawyer, directing me to come to +London by the next train. It is a purely business letter, dear, +but you know we cannot neglect business, especially as our +contemplated year's travel will draw deeply on our resources. I +shall not forget you; that would be impossible! I shall be at +the railway station at four o'clock; be sure to meet me there. +It would be dreadful not to bid you good-bye.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Your Ada.</span></p></blockquote> + +<p>Four o'clock! It was then a quarter after three; there was barely time +to reach the station, but half-a-crown to the driver gave him five +minutes in which to see his beautiful mistress in her new winter gown of +dark blue broadcloth, trimmed with sable fur. The small blue and brown +toque above her brown, braided hair gave her quite a new look. She was +so chic, so radiant, so loving. And, in some of the occult ways known to +women, she managed in those few minutes to make him both happy and +hopeful. Then the guard held open the door of her carriage, she was in +the train, the door was shut, the cry of "All right" ran along the +moving line and, with a heart feeling empty and forlorn, he returned to +the Little House.</p> + +<p>"Lady Cramer has gone to London," he said to Mrs. Caird, and she looked +into her brother-in-law's face and understood.</p> + +<p>There was nothing now for him but reading, and he took up the books +waiting for him and tried to forget in Scientific Religion the pitiless +aching and longing of love; and he was glad, also, that the minister who +had been filling the pulpit of the Church of the Disciples during his +month's rest proposed to come to Cramer and stay part of the last week +with him. He hoped they might be able to talk over together some of the +startling religious ideas he was then reading and, perhaps, receive help +from his more advanced age and wider experience.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Caird doubted it as soon as she saw the man. He had a handsome +physical appearance with such drawbacks as attend a long course of +self-indulgence. His stoutness reduced his height, he had become +slightly bald, and he wore glasses; so Dr. Macrae's slim, straight +figure, his fine eyes and hair, and his good, healthy coloring, moved +the brother cleric to a moment's envy.</p> + +<p>"I used to be as natty and bright as you, Macrae," he said, "but age, +sir, age—the years tell on us."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae met him at the railway station with the Victoria, and he +admired the turnout very much. "That is a fine machine," he remarked; +"it must have cost you a pretty penny."</p> + +<p>"It is not mine," answered Dr. Macrae. "It belongs to Lady Cramer. I +have, by her kindness, the use of it this summer."</p> + +<p>"What an unusual kindness!"</p> + +<p>"Also of her dower house, with all its beautiful furnishings. Very +little you will see in it belongs to me."</p> + +<p>"I have never fallen on such luck. My church is large, but poor—poor. +There are a few wealthy families—but—but they do not lift themselves +above the ordinaries of collection—the plate and the printed lists."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And, even so, I generally think scorn of their donations. I suppose you +are on a very easy footing with Lady Cramer—friendly, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are good friends."</p> + +<p>He was in a fit of admiration with everything he saw, the antique +homeliness of the parlors, the lavender on the window sills, the +Worcester china on the table. He looked critically at the latter, and +said with a knowing air, "It belongs to the best period, having the +square mark on it." The light shone on olives and grapes, on cut glass +and silver, and specially on a claret jug of Worcester, with its exotic +birds, its lasting gold, and its scale-blue ground like sapphire. He +had the artistic temperament, and these beautiful things appealed to him +in a way that astonished Dr. Macrae, whose temperament was of spiritual +mold, and had not been destitute of even ascetic tendencies in his +youth.</p> + +<p>He had, therefore, little sympathy with his guest's enthusiasms; indeed, +it rather pleased him to strip himself bare of all the beauty around +him. "Not one of these lovely things is mine," he said. "I should not +know what to do with them. I would rather have a few deal shelves full +of good books."</p> + +<p>"You don't know yourself, Macrae," was the answer. "The possession of +artistic beauty develops the taste for it. When you are rich——"</p> + +<p>"I shall never be rich."</p> + +<p>"You have a fine income."</p> + +<p>"I save nothing from it; a man who tries to save both his money and his +soul has a task too hard for me to manage."</p> + +<p>It must be acknowledged that Mrs. Caird took a dislike to the man, and +she made Dr. Macrae feel that it was important he and his visitor should +go to Glasgow on Thursday. "Take him to Bath Street," she said. "Maggie +will provide for you; besides, I am sending Kitty down to-morrow, and he +will be a hindrance to me here."</p> + +<p>Wednesday was very wet and the two ministers had perforce to remain in +the house, and in one of the exigencies of their prolonged +conversations Dr. Macrae unfortunately referred to the pile of +scientific religious books lying on his table. Then his visitor rose and +looked at them.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said with a great sigh, "we are very scientific to-day, with +our 'tendencies' and 'streams of influence' and our various 'thought +movements.' They are all purely material."</p> + +<p>"They cannot be that," replied Dr. Macrae, impetuously. "Streams of +influence imply spiritual beings, and movements of thought must come +from thinkers."</p> + +<p>"Agreed," was the reply, "but you cannot call 'a stream of tendency,' or +'a power that makes for righteousness,' God. No, sir, you cannot, +without striking at the very foundation of Theism. The next step would +be to deny the supernatural guidance of the universe and of life. And +the next? What would it be?"</p> + +<p>"I know not. Such questions are mere spiritual curiosity. Keep your +thumb down on them."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you. The morality based on the supernatural would fail, +and, unless a man had found a scheme of scientific morality based on the +natural instead of the supernatural, he would be wrecked on the rock of +his passions. The question arises, then—is there such a scheme?"</p> + +<p>"You must answer your own question, Dr. Scott. As far as I can see, if +there is in scientific philosophy a rule of life that can take the place +of the Bible and Christianity, it must be able to guide the ignorant and +humble, and restrain and comfort men. Philosophy failed Cicero at the +hour of trial, and who would offer to the mourner, or the outcast, a +chapter of scientific philosophy? It would be feeding hunger on straw."</p> + +<p>"See here, Macrae, you are going further than I have any desire to +follow you. I am a licensed preacher of the Scotch Church. My articles +stipulate that I shall preach the doctrines of Christianity as +elucidated by the creed of John Calvin. That is the extent of my +obligation—the full extent of it."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I chose the profession of Divinity, as my brother chose that of +the Law. Both are recognized means of business. I accepted Divinity as +such. I agreed to preach Calvinism to those who chose to come to my +church—to my place of business, really—and listen to me."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe what you preach?"</p> + +<p>"That is another question. Answer it yourself, Macrae. I can only say +that, in preparing for the profession of Divinity at St. Andrews +Divinity Hall, it was understood I would preach Calvinism. There was no +specification concerning my belief or non-belief in it. I was licensed +to be a preacher of Calvinism, and I have never preached anything else. +My brother has the authority of the courts to be a pleader for +criminals. He pleads well for them, and he does not much care whether +they are guilty or innocent. You see, Macrae, this preaching is a +professional business. Men are qualified for it, as men are qualified +for law or medicine. They serve—just as Divinity does—rich and poor, +good and bad. I do not know but what they are as reputable and useful +'divines' as we are."</p> + +<p>"Supposing you were a sceptic—as many now are—would you go on +preaching?"</p> + +<p>"Unquestionably. Pray, why not? What I believe is between my Maker and +myself. My congregation have nothing to do with it. My belief or +non-belief would not injure or improve my sermons. I should in either +case preach a good Calvinistic sermon; that is what I qualified myself +for. It is my business. If you have been in London you have seen in the +great thoroughfares men in scarlet blouses, whose business it is to +direct strangers to the places they wish to find. Nobody asks them about +their personal religion. If they are good guides to those seeking +certain places, they fulfil their duty. I am in just such a position. So +are you."</p> + +<p>"If I thought so, I would leave it at once."</p> + +<p>"If you had a wife and five children you would put their comfort before +your own feelings. That stands to reason. All this talk about the higher +criticism is like the sickly talk of the higher civilization; it is +anemia in some form or other. Macrae, we have our duty to the Church. We +are pledged and sworn to that. It is as much the work given us to do as +plowing and sowing are the farmer's work."</p> + +<p>"But the Truth—the Truth, Doctor!"</p> + +<p>"What is Truth, Macrae? Who knows? The Truth of yesterday is the error +of to-day."</p> + +<p>"Then, it never was Truth, for Truth is unaffected by time, and remains +a witness of the past, the present, and the future."</p> + +<p>Then the visiting cleric struck the table heavily with his closed hand +and, with a fierce intensity, whispered,</p> + +<p>"O Man! Man! what if all this religion should be a dream!"</p> + +<p>And Dr. Macrae answered, "Then, where is the Reality?"</p> + +<p>Both men were silent, but in the eyes of both there was that look which +is only seen in the eyes of men who are defrauding their own souls.</p> + +<p>In a few moments there was the tinkle of a small silver bell, and Dr. +Macrae said, "Tea is ready," and they rose together. Passing the parlor +they heard Marion trying a new song, and they loitered a moment or two +and listened, as very slowly and softly she asked:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What says thy song, thou joyous thrush,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Up in the walnut tree?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I love my Love, because I know<br /></span> +<span class="i3">My Love loves me."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A little sadly they entered the parlor, but the blazing fire threw warm +gleams on the handsomely set table; and the tempting odors of young +hyson, fresh bread, and a rook pie filled the room. Involuntarily +everyone smiled and sat down gladly to the dainty, delicate food before +them; and Dr. Macrae said to his friend:</p> + +<p>"Life is full of emotions. Such a variety of them, too!"</p> + +<p>"And all good—or, at least, pretty much so. A rook pie! That is a +luxury indeed! I suppose there is a rookery at Cramer."</p> + +<p>"A very ancient and a very large one," answered Dr. Macrae, and he +recognized in his own voice and manner that slight sense of +proprietorship which flavors a coming good. He was ashamed of it, and +made some foolish remark about the rooks being a present. "The birds are +not in the market," he said, "and, if they were, a poor minister could +not buy them."</p> + +<p>"You are a fortunate man. The country is full of blessings. I wish I +lived in the country. You must like it, Macrae."</p> + +<p>"I am of <i>Touchstone's</i> opinion—in respect that it is in the fields, it +pleaseth me well; but, in respect that it is not in the city, it is +tedious. That reminds me, we shall leave for the city early in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"Not too early, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"About ten o'clock."</p> + +<p>"That will do very well."</p> + +<p>The men were up early, but Mrs. Caird saw that Ian had spent a sleepless +night. Indeed, his conversations with Dr. Scott had raised many serious +questions in his mind. Was it possible that this doubt of God's +existence—of the inspiration of the Bible—of the dogma of eternal +punishment and other vital points of Christian belief was not an +uncommon condition of the ministerial mind, not only in Calvinistic +churches but throughout the creeds of Christendom?</p> + +<p>"There is no absolute Faith in any Protestant Church, no matter how its +creed is written," Dr. Scott had said, with an air of knowledge and +certainty; adding, "Belief is an individual thing, Macrae, every man +must discover what is true in his own case."</p> + +<p>"What is the most general point of unbelief among ministers?" asked Ian, +and Dr. Scott, after a moment's reflection, answered, "I think, +perhaps, the divinity of Jesus Christ." At these words Mrs. Caird +flushed angrily, and looked at Ian. She expected him to deny this +accusation, but he only cast down his eyes and remained silent. Then, +she said, with great feeling, "Constance Norden has well described the +religion of such men as</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Pale Christianity, with Christ expunged;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint unbelief deploring its own skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tomes of metaphysic lore, that sponged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The World away, leaving the lonely Will.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And Dr. Scott bowed slightly, but made no other answer to Constance +Norden's accusation.</p> + +<p>"Do you think the divergencies of the Bible are a great difficulty, +Jessy?" and Ian looked anxiously at his sister as she answered without a +moment's hesitation, "A want of belief is the chief, is the whole +difficulty. God speaks to men and they will not believe Him."</p> + +<p>"You must remember, Mrs. Caird, that we have to talk to congregations +who know all about the system of Christian theology."</p> + +<p>"If I was a preacher, Doctor, I would let the system of theology alone. +I would take for granted the divine in men, bring them past every +disability of race, station, or morality, right into the presence of +God, and offer them all God's good will, though they were slaves or +outcasts."</p> + +<p>"Such sermons would not do for this era of the Church. They would have +to be gradually introduced."</p> + +<p>"Then do not introduce them. Better do nothing than do by halves and +quarters."</p> + +<p>"Our civilization, Mrs. Caird——"</p> + +<p>"Can never save the world. It cannot even save the individual. Besides, +our civilization, whatever it may be scientifically, is ethically +bankrupt."</p> + +<p>"I was going to say, Mrs. Caird, that new truths affecting old clerical +dogmas are generally offensive to old church members. Many good men live +by serving the altar. They must be considered, and your brother and I, +and every minister, knows that our people judge for themselves and only +accept what they desire to accept. Is not that so, Macrae?" And Macrae, +as he looked at his watch, answered indifferently, "You are right, +Doctor. It is now time we took the carriage if we intend to catch our +train."</p> + +<p>So there was movement and a little noise, but, amid it, Ian heard his +sister's answer, "To be sure, Dr. Scott, we all know well that Scotsmen +do that which is right in their own eyes—and, also, that which is +wrong."</p> + +<p>With the usual pleasant formalities the men went away together, and +Jessy sadly walked through the perishing garden, whispering to herself, +as she did so:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Through sins of sense, perversities of will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through doubt and pain, through guilt and shame, and ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy pitying eye is on Thy creatures still."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>For she knew in her heart that no man could be more miserable than Ian +Macrae. His religion was no longer even a habit, it had become an acute +fever, and all conversation on this tremendous subject seemed so +ineffectual, so mockingly beneath its meaning and its needs. It wearied +his aching heart and brain, and gave him neither hope nor consolation. +For he knew that any reasoned argument would be but the surface +exhibition; it was only the unreasoned and immediate assurance that +could satisfy his soul.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>DONALD TAKES HIS OWN WAY</h3> + +<blockquote><p>"Love is a sea for which no compass has been invented."</p> + +<p>There are times which mark epochs in life; they cut it sharply +asunder—the continuity of life is broken.</p></blockquote> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>There was a sense of relief when the two divines were comfortably beyond +the horizon of the Little House the next morning, and Mrs. Caird could +begin her preparations for their own removal. "I was fain to come to +this place, Marion," she said, "and mightily set up with it when I got +here. But I have had lots of care in its pretty rooms and among its +flowers. So I am just as fain to go back to the big, dull rooms in Bath +Street. Paradise is fairly lost, dear. We may dream of it, but we never +find it."</p> + +<p>"O Aunt Jessy, some surely find it."</p> + +<p>"They may think they do for awhile, but indeed,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There's none exempt from worldly cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And few from some domestic cross;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All whiles are in, and whiles are out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For grief and joy come time about.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She was tearing up some old cotton for dusters as she repeated the +rhyme, and she emphasized "some domestic cross" by a rent of rather +angry vigor; then she added, "Go to your father's study, you will be out +of the way of the cleaners there, and I have no doubt whatever that you +have an important letter to write."</p> + +<p>"Aunt, when did you hear from Donald?"</p> + +<p>"It is so long since, I have forgotten."</p> + +<p>"Where were they then?"</p> + +<p>"In the Shetland Islands. Whiles I fear they have been shut in there by +early storms, or have gone out pleasuring in some cockle shell of a boat +and got——"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Aunt. I had a letter from Perth. They were on the mainland the +seventh of September."</p> + +<p>"Then they are all right. Some day soon they'll come traipsing in, wet +and draggled, and tired and hungry."</p> + +<p>"They will not come here, will they?"</p> + +<p>"I hope not. It is little welcome I'll give them if they come after this +house is in order. They would have to go to the kitchen itself."</p> + +<p>"You would never do that, Aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Would I not? If the occasion comes you will see."</p> + +<p>The occasion came that afternoon. Mrs. Caird was standing before a large +chest of fine napery, counting napkins, when Donald threw open the door +of the room and, before she could speak, threw his arms around her neck +and kissed her, and kissed her over and over again. "You dear Auntie! +You dear Mammy!" he shouted, and she, between laughing and crying, +gasped out: "Be done, you ranting, raving laddie! See you have made me +drop the finger cloths, and my count is lost; and I shall have to go +over them again."</p> + +<p>"I'll count them for you, Mammy."</p> + +<p>"You!" she ejaculated with horror. "Your hands are not fit to touch +them."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you are going to give me one when you give me my dinner."</p> + +<p>"I will not. The tale of them is correct and just from the laundry, and +I shall not have one of them soiled for anybody."</p> + +<p>"Not even for Richard Cramer?"</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"In the parlor with Marion."</p> + +<p>"<i>Humph!</i>"</p> + +<p>"And we are hungry, Auntie, and we are going to stay here to-night."</p> + +<p>"No. Your rooms are now in the cleaning, you had better go to the Hall."</p> + +<p>"Very well, we can do that."</p> + +<p>"No, you can't. I won't have it, and Lady Cramer is in London."</p> + +<p>"Jericho! What took her there? Richard will be astonished."</p> + +<p>"So you will have to stay here. It's notably inconvenient, but whenever +do men consider the conveniences? I'll give the two of you the +guest-room, and we will just have to stay here a day longer, and make it +decent-like after you."</p> + +<p>"Auntie, we are hungry; nothing to eat since breakfast, and I am not in +love. I can't live on kisses and sweet words like Richard."</p> + +<p>"Surely not. Come with me and I will give you pot luck until six +o'clock, then you'll get your dinner, and not a minute sooner. I have +three extra women hired by the day and I can't slack my care of them."</p> + +<p>"Come and see Richard. He wants to see you."</p> + +<p>"Not he! He would have come up with you if he had wanted bad enough."</p> + +<p>"He got stopped on the way. How could he pass Marion? She was watching +for him."</p> + +<p>"Did she know you were coming?"</p> + +<p>"I think so—certainly, certainly she knew."</p> + +<p>"And the little minx so innocently asked me if I knew!"</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Caird went down to the lovers, pretended to scorn them, and sent +Richard upstairs to wash and make himself like a gentleman. Then, with a +beaming face, she turned to Marion and said: "My dear girl, we will +have a few days' happiness, no matter what comes or goes. We can put the +cleaning behind the dear lads."</p> + +<p>"They can go to the kitchen, Aunt. They are quite used to it. From what +Richard says, I think they have mostly lived in kitchens, and also +thoroughly enjoyed kitchen hospitality."</p> + +<p>"That would be like them. It takes gentlemen to understand the reality +of kitchen hospitality. We will give them the best in our cupboard, and +set them a fair table in the dining-room. It is not too often in life +that true love comes to eat with you."</p> + +<p>"Richard must go away to-morrow. When he heard Lady Cramer was in London +it worried him. He said he must go and see what she was doing."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, give the day to him. When he has left to-morrow, Donald can +do a deal to help. I taught him everything about the house, as you know. +He'll not need to marry any girl that she may make the pot or kettle +boil, or sew a button on. And he'll help us with carpets and curtains, +and the like, and enjoy it. We will have one good day when we can get +it. You may look up Ecclesiasticus 14:14 for permission. So come with me +and we will spread in the dining-room a comfortable 'pick-up' for hungry +men, and you must serve and entertain them, for there is too much fine +linen lying loose, and too many strange hands around, who may be clever +at finding things—not lost."</p> + +<p>The dinner and the evening were all that Mrs. Caird intended. She left +the lovers very much to themselves and, wherever she was, Donald was +with her. Never had she been so proud and so fond of him. "He is the +handsomest lad in Scotland," she said, "and the best, and I care not who +says 'no' to that truth—it will stand."</p> + +<p>Still the visit delayed them a day, and it was Tuesday when they again +reached the Bath Street home and, for a few days, Mrs. Caird was always +finding out some advantage in it hitherto unnoticed. She was glad to +live under high ceilings once more; the Bath Street water made far +better tea. She had had enough of lamps and candlesticks forever—even +if they were made of silver—just give her a common gas burner and she +would never inquire what it was made of. Thank goodness there was a +market now to go to! You had to take what meat and poultry you could get +in the country; the fleshers in Glasgow knew they must give you the very +best, that and that only; and, above all, she could order a street car +to wait on her, or a noddy to call for her whenever she wanted to step +to church or call on a friend, and that suited her feelings far better +than any lady's Victoria.</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae was not pleased at such remarks. "Gratitude is a late +plant," he said; "it grows at the very gate of heaven. A human being +hardly ever receives it. I am sure, Jessy, if you had had to pay rent +for the house and all its favors and advantages, it would have cost you +a large sum of money."</p> + +<p>"If you are sure, Ian, that a kindness is true kindness, it is easy to +be pleased and grateful; but, if you come to see there has been a +selfish foundation for it, why should you be grateful?"</p> + +<p>"There was no selfish motive in Lady Cramer's kindness, Jessy."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to be informed of that. I thought it was very like the +thousand pounds left you as a token of Lord Cramer's friendship. What +weary reading and writing you have given for it, not to speak of the +mental and spiritual danger and trouble, I call that thousand pounds the +worst money you ever put in your purse. I don't think you owe Lord +Cramer a pennyweight of gratitude for it. When did you get rid of the +Reverend Dr. Scott?"</p> + +<p>"He went home early on Monday morning. He asked a queer favor of me on +the Sabbath morning."</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>"'Macrae,' he said, as we ate our breakfast, 'I ask you not to come to +the Church of the Disciples to-day. I could not preach if you were +present. I should be dumb.' I wondered at it."</p> + +<p>"I think it was a most natural request. Men are just like women. That +last wet day made you say things to each other you were soon sorry for."</p> + +<p>"That may be so. Where is Donald? Did he not return with you?"</p> + +<p>"He came to the very doorstep with us. Then he had to hurry away to the +Buchanan Street Station to see Lord Cramer, who is off to London."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I never asked him. Donald will be here anon; he said he would not miss +eating with us the first meal of our home-coming. He seemed particular +about it. I thought he might be thinking of going away himself, +perhaps——"</p> + +<p>"He is going to St. Andrews."</p> + +<p>"You are reckoning without your host, Ian. Donald has not one intention +about St. Andrews."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, he is going to St. Andrews."</p> + +<p>"Just so—according to Ian Macrae. Donald Macrae is to hear from."</p> + +<p>"Every Scotchman, Jessy, considers it a great privilege to go to St. +Andrews. St. Andrew was a good and a great man."</p> + +<p>"He was a very prudent, forecasting Saint—the only one of the Disciples +who, at the great Preaching, knew where the bread and the fishes were. +But, though I will not preach for your Saint, I will say nothing against +him. If he can get Donald he may have him. But we will have our meal at +six o'clock, Ian, and I hope there will be only good words with it +to-night. It would be real unlucky to have a quarrel over our first +meal."</p> + +<p>Certainly Mrs. Caird did all she could to prevent it. It was a pleasure +to go into the firelit, gaslit room, and see the pretty plenteous table; +and to hear the pleasant laughter of Donald and Marion, who were +standing together on the hearthrug. Dr. Macrae took in the charming +picture at a glance, but his attention was specially drawn to Donald. +His holiday had improved him. He was so manly and so handsome that his +father quite involuntarily addressed him as sir. "Well, sir," he said, +"I hope you have had a good holiday."</p> + +<p>"A grand one! I do not see how I could have had a better one in every +way."</p> + +<p>"That is good. Your aunt is waiting. Let us sit down. Where did you go +first?"</p> + +<p>"Lord Cramer was with me and we went first to Skye, and spent nearly +four days at Dunvegan Castle with Macleod of Macleod. He remembered my +grandfather and spoke bravely of him, and, if I had not been a Scotchman +to the last drop of my blood, Dunvegan would have made me one."</p> + +<p>"It is the oldest inhabited castle in Scotland," said Dr. Macrae, "and +in my grandfather's day it was only accessible from the sea by a boat +and a subterranean staircase."</p> + +<p>"It is now approached by a modern bridge crossing the chasm."</p> + +<p>"Is the old castle intact?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and there are many good modern additions. On the whole it is very +picturesque. We were nobly entertained. We saw all to be seen in the +neighborhood. The castle has some rare relics, also. The Macleod himself +put into our hands for a few minutes a wooden cup beautifully carved and +mounted in silver, which belonged to Catherine O'Neill in 1493. We also +saw the fairy banner which controls the destiny of the Macleods, and the +claymore and horn of Rory More, or Sir Roderick Macleod. It was a very +memorable visit, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have been there. You saw a grand Scotch noble. Where did +you go next?"</p> + +<p>"To Oban, where we spent a couple of days on the mountains with John +Stuart Blackie. Such a lunch as we had with him on the hills—curds and +rich cream—cold salmon—cold lamb—roasted duck—veal pie—ham—peas +and, of course, hard-boiled eggs. I was told Blackie does not think any +meal perfect without them. With these things we had plenty of milk, +beer, and claret with a fine rich bouquet. Blackie said claret without +it was no better than colored cold water."</p> + +<p>"Did Blackie talk much?"</p> + +<p>"Did he ever cease talking? But every word was good. You would not have +missed one of them."</p> + +<p>"On what subjects did he speak?"</p> + +<p>"While eating he told us that every meal should have three courses, +adding, 'Three is a sacred number. Aristotle settled that. Three is the +first number that has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and this gives +the perfect idea of a whole. Every dinner ought to have three courses, +every song three verses, every novel three volumes, every sermon three +heads.'"</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae really laughed as he asked, "What were your three courses, +Donald?"</p> + +<p>"Curds and cream first, salmon and roast duck second, and, for the +third, cheddar cheese, beautifully browned oat cakes and a glass of old +port that Blackie said 'fell like the dew of Hermon' upon the oat +cakes."</p> + +<p>"That was like Blackie. His similes often have a Biblical flavor."</p> + +<p>"He talked wisely and cleverly about eating, said the Englishman was an +aristocratic animal, and his eating large, royal and rich, and that the +man who fed in his style would do nothing in a meager style. The French +thought we did not understand how to eat—that we eat without science, +had only one sauce, that we made of flour and water, and called melted +butter. He quoted Novalis for the Germans, who said, 'Eating is an +accentuated living.' I think, Father, Novalis is right, for everything +is always best when well accentuated. A student from Edinburgh joined us +while we were eating, a tall, thin man who was living on the hills to +recruit after the severe drill of last winter at the University."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the drill is severe," said Dr. Macrae, "unless you have a grand +purpose for it."</p> + +<p>"Blackie said he knew him well, that he met him near Glencoe two years +ago, and at that time he could only speak a few words in broken English. +Two years afterward he won the bronze medal in the Greek class at +Edinburgh, and that all had been done upon oatmeal, cheese, salt +herrings, and fifteen pounds sterling."</p> + +<p>"That is by no means a singular instance," said Dr. Macrae. "All things +are possible to a Scotch Celt in love with learning and seeing a pulpit +in the distance. No doubt his medal paid for all his privations."</p> + +<p>"I was very sorry for the man. That bronze medal would not have paid me +for two years' hard study and meager living."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear you say that, Donald," and Dr. Macrae's face +suddenly shadowed, and he asked for no further stories of his son's +holiday. On the contrary he remembered some letters that must be +written, and rose, saying:</p> + +<p>"Donald, after breakfast to-morrow morning, I should like to speak to +you. Come to my study."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Father. I will certainly come."</p> + +<p>Then, with a slight reluctance, Dr. Macrae went away, but long afterward +he could hear, if he listened, sounds of happy talk and laughter at the +pleasant table he had deserted. And he had several longings to go back +to the cheerful parlor; his heart was not satisfied, and he could offer +it no excuse for its deprivation that it would accept.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry Father has gone away, Donald," said Marion. "I had a feeling +you were coming to something very interesting."</p> + +<p>"Then it is just as well his father did not stay to hear it," replied +Mrs. Caird. "I never saw two men whose ideas of what was interesting +were further apart than those of Ian and Donald Macrae."</p> + +<p>"Well," continued Donald, "our next move was a doubtful one, and it +might perhaps have seriously offended Father. I told Professor Blackie I +had a little lecture ready about the private history of our favorite +Scotch songs—the men or women who wrote them, the circumstances that +produced them, the places in which they were written, and so on. And I +said I would like to deliver it in Oban. He was greatly delighted, +offered to be my chairman, and arranged the program, adding also to my +facts many interesting anecdotes. Both Lord Cramer and I illustrated the +songs with our violins and voices, and Blackie provided the enthusiasm +for the crowds that came to hear the stories and the singing and to see +the dancing. The enthusiasm was beyond belief. Indeed, at our battle +song of Lochiel's men charging the French at Waterloo, most of the +audience stood up, and from all parts of the hall came the <i>Sa! Sa! Sa! +Sa!</i> of a Highland regiment charging an enemy. Well, when all expenses +were paid, we had cleared one hundred and four pounds, which was very +acceptable, as we were both out of money. At Perth we raised the sum of +eighty pounds, and then at Wick we took a boat for Shetland, and had a +glorious time with the fishermen on Brassey Sound—out on the ocean with +them, all through the long, light nights, while the sunset lingered in +the west and the dawn was tremulous in the east, and the moonlight +silvered everything on earth and sea, and the aurora, with rosy +javelins, charged the zenith. Such wonderful nights! Such quiet, grave, +purposeful men! Such nets full of quivering fish, in the silver lights +between sea and deck! We got away with the strange fishers after the +<i>foy</i> or feast and, stopping at St. Andrews, tramped through all the +queer little coast towns of the ancient kingdom of Fife and so to +Edinburgh, with three times as much money as we started with, and all +the health and happiness of the trip added to it."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you called at St. Andrews. What did you think of the place?" +asked Marion.</p> + +<p>"It is pretty enough, but the very atmosphere is learned as well as +religious, and you catch the spirit of the place whether you like or +not. Walking the streets you appear to imbibe knowledge. I could think +only of divinity, science, and philosophy. One of the professors asked +me to give my lecture, and said he would sanction the meeting—but I +could not sing there."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Marion, it is a psychical problem. The atmosphere had infected +me, and the scientific or philosophical man is never a singing man. Now, +Aunt, you see there was nothing wrong in our way of raising the wind, +but it is very uncertain how Father would look at it."</p> + +<p>"I do not think it would have his approval and, if you take my advice, +you will tell him nothing about it."</p> + +<p>The following morning, however, Dr. Macrae reverted over and over to +Donald's adventures, and would have been really glad if Donald had taken +up the subject again, but he did not care to ask the favor—partly +because he was a proud man with his children, and partly because it was +not a suitable preface for the serious conversation he intended to have +with him. He left the table before Donald and spent the interval in +steadying his mind and purpose with regard to his boy's future. Never +had he been so dear to his heart, never had he been so proud of his +beauty, his fine presence and mental alertness. He told himself the +world would be full of temptations to such a youth, so charming, and +that it was his manifest duty "to bind him, even with cords, to the +horns of the altar." There only he would be safe from the lures of the +world, the flesh, and the devil. Many things he was not sure about, but +this thing he regarded as a duty from which he could not righteously +relieve himself.</p> + +<p>In the midst of such a positive decision Donald, handsome and happy, +entered the room. His father met him with the respect and kindness due +from one man to another, whatever their relationship, for Dr. Macrae had +fully recognized the preceding evening the manhood of his son, and had +resolved in the future to acknowledge it in all his dealings with him.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, my dear Donald," he said, "I want to talk with you about your +future. Your holiday has been a long and delightful one. You have got +rid of the commercial life you disliked so much—though, by-the-by, Mr. +Reid says you would have made a good business man—now, then, I should +like you to start for St. Andrews at once, so as to go in with the +entering classes—it is always best. You will find St. Andrews a +delightful little city."</p> + +<p>"I spent three days there a week ago, sir. The classes were gathering +then."</p> + +<p>"And you liked it, I am sure?"</p> + +<p>"I wished to like it for your sake, Father, but I could not. I disliked +everything about it."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for that, because you will require to spend a few years +there. But, even if you do not like the place, it has many compensations +and, among these I count the name that will be yours as soon as you are +entered on its list."</p> + +<p>"The name, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You will then be <i>A Man of St. Andrews</i>! Other universities have +students, scholars, fellows, etc., but St. Andrews breeds <i>Men</i>! In +after life you will know each other as 'Men' and call each other '<i>Man</i>' +with the grip of a kindly world-wide brotherhood, for East, West, North, +or South St. Andrews' 'Men' soon find each other. Donald, my dear son, +be a Man of St. Andrews."</p> + +<p>"O Father, I cannot. It is impossible! I would rather die."</p> + +<p>"Speak sensibly, Donald, men don't talk of dying because duty demands of +them a certain amount of self-denial."</p> + +<p>"Duty asks nothing of me, sir, in regard to St. Andrews. I have seen the +world has now one test. It asks of every man and of every proposition, +<i>Will it work?</i> If it will not, it must go. I could not do any kind of +work in a university. Plenty of better men than I am would work +splendidly there. I should die of spiritual and mental nausea. I have +considered university life, both as regards law and medicine. I thought +we might compromise, perhaps, on medicine, but my feeling is the same. I +am an open-air man. I want to live with every part of my body at the +same time, not with my brain only—to be tethered to a desk with a book, +whether ledger or Bible, would be to me a dreadful existence."</p> + +<p>"We will put <i>me</i> out of the question. Do I not deserve some honor and +obedience? It is my positive will that you should go to St. Andrews."</p> + +<p>"In order to give you pleasure, sir, I might be willing to give up, say +three of the best years of my life, but you would then want the whole of +my life to preach Calvinism."</p> + +<p>"I have given my youth and my life to preach Calvinism or the +Truth—they are the same thing."</p> + +<p>"If Calvinism is true, sir, then I think my opinion ought to have been +asked before I was sent into the world on such terms."</p> + +<p>"This talk is irrelevant. What I ask of you is, will you go to St. +Andrews and study Divinity? Donald, I will make it as pleasant as I can +for you—will you go?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. Forgive me. I cannot."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae looked steadily at his son, and his large, lambent eyes were +full of tears.</p> + +<p>"It is for your salvation, Donald. My son, think again, your father asks +of you this favor—for your own good."</p> + +<p>Donald was even more moved than his father and, if he had followed his +instincts, he would have fallen at his father's knees and said, "I am +your son. I will do all you wish." But his resolve was not a something +of yesterday, and his will was the strongest force in his nature. He put +all feeling under its majestic orders and, though his heart was aching +with sorrow, he answered, "Forgive me, Father. I must take my own way. I +must live my own life."</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Macrae turned his face toward his desk. It was covered with +papers and he lifted a pen and began to write. Donald waited patiently, +neither speaking nor moving for about five minutes. Then his father +lifted his head and said with cold politeness, "You can go, sir, there +is nothing more to say."</p> + +<p>"I would like to tell you something about my plans, Father."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae went on writing and did not answer. In a few moments Donald +continued: "I have resolved to go——"</p> + +<p>"I have no interest in your plans, sir."</p> + +<p>"But Father, listen."</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Macrae threw down his pen. It fell upon his sermon and left a +large, unsightly blot which irritated him. He did not speak, however, +but by an almost imperceptible movement of his eyes and outstretched +hand said to Donald more plainly than words could have done, "Leave the +room!"</p> + +<p>With that relentless figure regarding him, Donald knew that delay or +entreaty was vain. He gave his father one long, last look, a look of +such love as would master time, and then, with two scarcely audible +words, "Farewell, Father," he obeyed the silent order he had received.</p> + +<p>That look pierced Dr. Macrae's heart like an arrow, and those two words +went pealing through his ears like words of doom. He threw up his hands +and rushed to the door. He wanted to cry, "Come back, come back, +Donald," but the hall was empty and still. It was but a few steps to the +front door, he opened it in frantic haste, but neither up nor down Bath +Street could he see the son he loved so dearly and had sent away so +cruelly. He called Mrs. Caird and she came from the kitchen, her hands +covered with flour.</p> + +<p>"What are you wanting, Ian?" she asked. "I am just throng with the +pastry."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Donald within the last five minutes?"</p> + +<p>"Nor within the last hour. He went to your study after his breakfast. +That is the last I have seen of the poor lad. What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"He has gone."</p> + +<p>"Gone! Where to?"</p> + +<p>"God knows," and, heedless of Mrs. Caird's inquiries and reproaches, he +fled to his study and locked the door. He was suffering as he had never +before suffered in all his life. He said to himself, "My heart is +bleeding," and he felt as if this sensation might be a reality. For a +long time he stood by his table quite still, heartless, hopeless, +aidless, almost senseless. He had expected a fight, but that his child +would be finally disobedient had been an incredulity to smile at. Yet he +had bid him farewell and had gone to face the world without either his +help or his counsel.</p> + +<p>He would take no lunch, nor would he see or speak to anyone. His heart +and brain seemed stupefied by this irreparable sorrow that had so +suddenly ruined all his happiness. He tried to think of it as appointed +and inevitable, but his heart would not listen to such a suggestion. It +told him plainly that many times all had depended on his own yes or no; +that a step forward, a look of kindness, a gesture of entreaty would +have prevented it. He understood at that hour that sorrow has only the +weapons we ourselves give her.</p> + +<p>The call to lunch broke the dumb stupidity which had followed the blow +of Donald's farewell. Thoughts of what the Church and friends would say +began to pierce through the first black despair of his personal feelings +and, as the clock struck two, a great change occurred. In half an hour +the postman might bring him a letter from Lady Cramer—must bring him +one. He stood up, shook himself, and went into a small adjoining room +and washed his face and hands. The knowledge that she loved him went +like wine to his heart, and her letter would bring him great +consolation; he was sure of that.</p> + +<p>No young girl waiting for her first love letter ever watched more +feverishly for the tall, uniformed official that was to bring it. He was +ten minutes later than usual, ten minutes full of hope and despair, but +at length the letter was given to him. It was small and light, and he +weighed it in his right hand and was disappointed. He had hoped for a +long letter telling him of all his beloved was doing, and perhaps asking +him to visit her in London, and he had resolved to accept her invitation +as soon as it came.</p> + +<p>There was no sign of such favor in the few hastily written lines he held +in his hand.</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Ian</span>—You know that I love you, and I would like to tell +you so one thousand times in this little letter. I am, however, +in a tumult of hurry and preparation, for I am going to Paris +this afternoon with Lady Landgrave's party. We shall only be a +week, so do not get blue and think I have deserted you. I shall +write you a long letter from Paris, if I can find one hour by +myself. Yours,</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Ada.</span></p></blockquote> + +<p>He threw the tiny note down on the table. He was in one of those +atavistic rages which should have revealed to him the original type of +bare-armed thanes from whom he was descended. His grandfather, in the +same insurrection of feeling, would have instantly put his hand on his +dirk. With a slow passion Dr. Macrae tore the offending letter into +minute pieces, and then dropped them on the burning coals, and his face +and movements during the act had a black expression of anger and +contempt. None the less he suffered, none the less he would have taken +the offending woman with unspeakable joy to his heart.</p> + +<p>But this tempest of rage calmed him. After it he sat down like a man +exhausted, and he wished to weep but would not. "It has been a +calamitous morning," he whispered, "but what is ordered must be borne. +If the lad would only come back! If he would only come back! But he will +not—he will not—he will never come back. I must get myself +together—there are other things, yes, there is Ada. As Donald was +preparing to leave me, she was coming for my consolation."</p> + +<p>Then he remembered that he had a session that night at the Church of the +Disciples—a session regarding the expenses of the coming year, and not +to be neglected. He dressed leisurely for the meeting, and then was +sensibly hungry and wished his dinner was ready. When the little silver +bell tinkled he needed no other call and, with a preoccupied air, took +his place at the table. He could see that Mrs. Caird had been crying, +and Marion was white and silent with a trace of indignation in her +manner. But, when her father clasped her hand as he took his seat and +smiled faintly, she returned his clasp and smile and looked at her aunt +with an expression that seemed to plead for tolerance.</p> + +<p>At the beginning of the meal there was little conversation, but when the +family were alone, Mrs. Caird said, "I hope you are feeling better, Ian. +What at all was the matter with you at the lunch hour?"</p> + +<p>"I was not sick. I was very wretched, and could not eat."</p> + +<p>"Donald, poor lad! I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Just so. Donald has treated me in a very ungrateful and disobedient +manner. I know not how I can bear it."</p> + +<p>"Forgive him."</p> + +<p>"I have forgiven so often."</p> + +<p>"That is the way. The best children are aye doing something wrong, +forgive Donald as you go along. It is God's way with yourself, Ian."</p> + +<p>"His behavior has destroyed my happiness."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, also, you have destroyed his happiness. Everyone has their own +kind of happiness, but you want everyone to be happy in your way or not +be happy at all. I call that even down selfishness. Ian, you have made a +great blunder. I only hope it will not be followed by a great penalty."</p> + +<p>"Blunder! Yes, if it be a blunder to take a man out of temptation and +put him under the best of influences."</p> + +<p>"You think college life the best of influences?"</p> + +<p>"It is better than wandering about the country as a musician, however +clever he is, must do."</p> + +<p>"But Donald likes wandering. He wants to see the wide world over."</p> + +<p>"A roving life, Jessy, leads to wavering principles. How can a man be +religious who has no settled church? Already, Donald disbelieves in the +creed his father preaches, and a man without a creed is a loose-at-ends +Christian. General scepticism will succeed it, and scepticism poisons +all the wells of life and undermines the foundations of morality."</p> + +<p>"Donald is no sceptic. He is a God-loving, God-fearing lad. You'll be to +excuse me now. I have a sore headache and I want to be alone."</p> + +<p>So she went to her room and Dr. Macrae was much annoyed at her air of +injury and sorrow.</p> + +<p>"Your aunt is fretting about Donald," he said. "Donald has behaved very +cruelly to me, Marion. I suppose you know how."</p> + +<p>"About college, Father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I begged him, for his own good, to go to St. Andrews, and he +flatly refused, bid me farewell, and left his home."</p> + +<p>"Did you not ask him where he was going?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry."</p> + +<p>"I knew you would be sorry for me. Never would Marion treat her father +in a way so disrespectful and disobedient, eh, dear?"</p> + +<p>"While I live I never will say farewell to you, my dear Father."</p> + +<p>"You will always obey my wishes, I know."</p> + +<p>"When I can, yes, when I can I will always gladly obey them."</p> + +<p>"Do I not know what is best for you?"</p> + +<p>"Not always, you might be wrong sometimes, Father—everybody is wrong +sometimes—but, even so, I would obey you if I could."</p> + +<p>"You mean that if you could not you would take your own way?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly."</p> + +<p>"And say farewell to me and leave your home?"</p> + +<p>"I would never say farewell to you. I do not think I would leave my home +in any such way."</p> + +<p>"What would you do?"</p> + +<p>"Love you and die daily at your side. When you saw me suffering you +would give me my desire, because it would be my life."</p> + +<p>"I would not. If confident I was right I would not do wrong to please +you. And it would be far better for you to die than to make yourself a +wanderer in improper company and a prodigal daughter."</p> + +<p>"Father, fear to say such words. I am God's daughter. I am your daughter +and I do not forget I am a daughter of the honorable clan of Macrae. +Such words are an insult to me, to yourself, and to every Macrae, living +or dead." She rose as she spoke and with a white, angry look was leaving +the room when her father laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder and +said:</p> + +<p>"Promise me you will not marry anyone without my consent."</p> + +<p>"For nearly two years, Father, I could only make a runaway marriage, +liable to be temporarily broken at your will."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say temporarily?"</p> + +<p>"Because, if I loved any man well enough to run away with him I should +stay with him forever. You might sever us 'temporarily,' but I should go +back to him as soon as I went twenty-one and marry him over again," and +her face flushed crimson, and she lifted her brimming eyes to her father +and added:</p> + +<p>"But all the time I should love you. I should never say farewell to you. +To the end of my life, throughout all eternity, I should be your +daughter, and you would be my dear, dear Father. Is not that so? Yes, it +is! It is!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her with a swelling heart full of intense admiration and +unbounded love. He could have struck and kissed her at the same moment, +but he could find no words to answer her loving question. So he lifted +his hand from her proud, indignant form and, with such a sob as may come +from a breaking heart, he turned from her to go to his study. She could +not bear it. When the parlor door shut, that piteous cry was still in +her ears, and she hastened to the study after him. But just as she +reached the door she heard the key turn in its lock.</p> + +<p>Then she fled upstairs and found her aunt lying still in the +semidarkness of her room. "Aunt! Aunt!" she cried in a passion of tears, +"I cannot bear it! No, I cannot bear it! My poor Father! Someone ought +to think of his feelings. Yes, indeed they ought."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me, Marion, that you are busy enough in that way. What is +the matter with the Minister now?"</p> + +<p>Then Marion, with many tears and protestations, related her conversation +with her father, and Mrs. Caird listened as one destitute of much +sympathy, and, when she spoke, her words were not more comforting.</p> + +<p>"You are a half-and-half creature, Marion; neither here nor there, +neither this, that, nor what not. Why didn't you speak plainly to him as +your brother did? Mind this! You can't move the Minister with tears and +a mouthful of good words. Not you! He will keep up his threep like a +gamecock till he dies with it in his last crow. I'm telling you—heed me +or not—I am telling you the truth."</p> + +<p>"No, he will not, Aunt."</p> + +<p>"Such to-and-fro words as you gave him! He'll build his own way strong +as Gibraltar upon them. See if he doesn't. Your fight is all to do over, +but, as you have taken the matter in your own hands, you and him for +it."</p> + +<p>"O Aunt! I am so miserable."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I have seen lately that you are never happy unless you are +miserable."</p> + +<p>"I have not heard from Richard, either yesterday or to-day."</p> + +<p>"What is that! At your age I was very proud and satisfied with a love +letter once in a fortnight. That's enough in all conscience."</p> + +<p>"Two weeks! If Richard was so long silent it would kill me."</p> + +<p>"Have you any more nonsense to talk?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt, do not be cross with me. I thought you were as full of trouble as +I am. Why else did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"Partly to keep the doors of my lips shut, and partly to think. I am not +full of trouble. I cannot do as I wish to do, but I have a Friend who +does all things well. And, when it is my time to act, I shall be ready +to act. Now go to your sleeping place and dream without care sitting on +your heart; then in the morning you can rise with a clear, trusting +soul, such as God loves."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>MARION DECIDES</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Love is indestructible,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its holy flame forever burneth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From heaven it came, to heaven returneth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Love is the secret sympathy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silver link, the silken tie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which heart to heart, and mind to mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In body and in soul can bind."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>After Donald left his father he went straight to his aunt's room and, +when she had finished making her pastry, she found him there, nursing +his anger and sorrow with passionate tears and words of +self-justification. He had kept a brave face to his father, but to his +aunt-mother he wept out all his trouble, and he was comforted as one +whom his mother comforteth. When Dr. Macrae asked her if she knew where +Donald was she had truthfully answered, "No," but she instantly +suspected, and shortened her work as much as possible in order to go to +him.</p> + +<p>They talked cautiously of his plans and prospects and, when dinner time +arrived, she surreptitiously carried him a good meal upstairs; for she +was not willing that the servants should discuss Donald's quarrel with +his father—the Master being to them, first of all, an ecclesiastic with +a suggestion of the surplice ever around him. She knew their sympathy +would veer decidedly toward the Master, for Donald played the "wee +sinfu' fiddle" too much, and, as he went through the halls and parlors, +was always whistling some irreligious reel, or strathspey, forbye hardly +keeping himself from dancing it.</p> + +<p>He was in his aunt's sitting-room while Marion related to her the +conversation she had just had with her father and, no doubt, Mrs. +Caird's short and rather indifferent attention to her niece's trouble +arose from the stress of his unacknowledged presence. For Donald had +begged not to see Marion that evening. "She will ask me all kinds of +questions about Richard," he said, "questions I cannot answer until I +see him." So Marion felt as if she had been snubbed and sent off to bed +with a little sermon just when she wanted to talk of Richard more than +she had ever before done. Mrs. Caird explained the circumstances to her +the following day, but she was more offended than satisfied by the +explanation.</p> + +<p>"You supposed, Aunt," she answered, "that I was so selfish as to be +insensible to Donald's anxiety and trouble, and would put my own before +his. You must have a poor opinion of me. It hurts me."</p> + +<p>"You are too sensitive, Marion. Donald is going away from us."</p> + +<p>"Where is he going to?"</p> + +<p>"He does not know until he hears from Richard."</p> + +<p>"Where is Richard? I have not had a letter from him in two days."</p> + +<p>"I do not know—exactly."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I. He told me that he was going to see Lady Cramer about the +settlement of his debt to her. It is shameful in her to press it."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. It is her right. He said that himself."</p> + +<p>"I did not mind getting no letter yesterday, but here is another day +nearly gone, and I do not expect to sleep a moment to-night. I am so +anxious about him."</p> + +<p>"Preserve us all! What are you talking about? It is fairly sinful of you +to be making trouble where there is none. That is the way to worry love +to death, if so be you want that result."</p> + +<p>"You care for no one but Donald now, Aunt."</p> + +<p>"You are not far wrong. Donald is in trouble."</p> + +<p>"You love Donald best."</p> + +<p>"I like Donald's way best. There is no shilly-shallying with Donald. I +like a definite 'Yes' and 'No' in answer to important questions."</p> + +<p>"Women cannot get into passions and say unladylike words, especially to +their fathers. You taught me that yourself. 'Exceed in nothing. Be +moderate in all things.' These were among your regular advices."</p> + +<p>"All right. Moderation is a very respectable word. I wish you would +apply it to the subject of letters."</p> + +<p>"You are cross with me, Aunt, and without any reason."</p> + +<p>"Reason enough when I see you worrying yourself—and me, also—about the +coming of a letter from your lover; and caring nothing about the going +away—perhaps forever—of your own brother. Kin is closer than all other +ties—ever and always, blood is thicker than water."</p> + +<p>Then Marion was angry. "I am glad I was respectful and moderate with +Father," she said haughtily. "He is the best and greatest of men. He is +the Minister of God. I cannot be too respectful. I intend——"</p> + +<p>"To marry Allan Reid and send away Richard Cramer. Good girl! I wish you +joy of your choice—such as it is."</p> + +<p>For six days the partial estrangement lasted, but Marion and her father +seemed to enjoy the interval. They were much together, and Mrs. Caird +was frequently startled by the Minister's hearty laugh over some of +Marion's observations, and once by his actually joining her in singing +that tender little love song, "My Love's in Germany."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My love's in Germany,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Send him hame! Send him hame!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love's in Germany,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fighting for loyalty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He may ne'er his Jeannie see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Send him hame! Send him hame!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The enthralling longing and sweetness of this melody doubtless echoed +the dearest wish of both hearts; for, if Marion was watching for Richard +Cramer, the Minister had an equal fervor of desire for his beautiful +Ada.</p> + +<p>For a week there appeared to be no change in affairs, but the slight +feeling of separation or estrangement did not trouble Mrs. Caird. She +knew that Donald was with his Uncle Hector, and would be there until +Richard's return; then, it would be time enough for her to interfere, if +interference was necessary. But during this interval, Donald had +requested her to give no one any information as to his whereabouts. For, +though his uncle had sheltered him readily and kindly, he had also said:</p> + +<p>"Mind this, Donald. You are to keep a close mouth about Uncle Hector. I +could not endure every woman in the Church of the Disciples clacking +with their neighbor concerning the sin of my encouraging you in your +disobedience against your father. You are freely welcome, laddie, but +you must be quiet for a few days. I have written to Richard to hurry +himself here, for reasons of my own, as well as yours. I see you are +wondering at my writing to Lord Cramer."</p> + +<p>"I did not know you were friendly—that is all."</p> + +<p>"I knew the present Lord Cramer when you were in petticoats and ankle +bands. The late Lord Cramer and I fished in Cromarty Bay, and hunted on +Cromarty Hills together half a century ago. When he got the estate into +trouble it was my care and skill saved it from roup and rent rack. Then +he married his second wife, a butterfly of a woman who wasted and helped +her stepson to waste, and I knew well things were going wrong long +before the old lord died."</p> + +<p>"Richard told me," said Donald, "that it was not so much the amount he +was owing as the people to whom it was due that had made him resolve to +retire for awhile and let the income of the estate have time to pay its +debts."</p> + +<p>"He is right. His stepmother is a large creditor and she bores him. The +Jews come next and, sleeping or waking, they are robbing him. We are +going to stop all such plundering; then, if he will be quiet a short +time, he will be in comfortable circumstances. He tells me he is going +to marry Marion, and I am bound to make things as pleasant as possible +for my niece. Forbye I have a liking for the young man on his own +account."</p> + +<p>"You will then be uncle to a lord, if you are caring for such mere +words."</p> + +<p>"I am uncle to <i>the Macrae</i>, that is honor enough. The Macraes are a far +older and more honorable family than the Cramers; 'by our permission' +they settled in Cromarty—well, well, this is old world talk, and means +nothing to the matter in hand. You will stay quietly here till I have +done with Richard."</p> + +<p>"Will you require him long, Uncle?"</p> + +<p>"A day will be sufficient. I only want his authority to use his name to +papers necessary to carry out my plans for his relief." Then he laughed +and, clapping his hands resoundingly, cried out, "Great Scot! How amazed +he will be to learn of his good luck!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope he has some good luck! He is such a fine fellow!"</p> + +<p>"Luck! Wonderful luck! Undreamed of good luck. But that is the way +godsends come—steal round a corner of your life, and stand at your +door, and never sign or whisper before them."</p> + +<p>"If I have to stay a few days, Uncle, is there not something I can do to +earn my bread while I wait?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty of writing you can do; only, you'll not write a line to your +sister. If you do, she will come with her own answer, all smiles and +tears and compliments, things I can't stand against, and won't try to."</p> + +<p>"I will not write to Marion at all. I must write to my aunt. She will +tell no one. I will swear it for her."</p> + +<p>"As far as I know, your aunt is a prudent, douce woman; but crooked and +straight are all women, uncertain, Donald, uncertain as the law."</p> + +<p>"Not so with aunt. Jessy Caird is straight all through and at all +times."</p> + +<p>"I'll take your word for her. It is only for an odd occasion; one +promise at a time is as far as I durst trust myself with any woman."</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Caird was not astonished when, one morning in the early part of +the following week, Lord Cramer entered the Minister's parlor while the +family were at breakfast. He held Marion's hand while he offered his +other hand to Dr. Macrae; and Dr. Macrae took it, though Mrs. Caird +noticed that he left the table while doing so, saying he had finished +his breakfast and, when Lord Cramer had done likewise, he would be glad +if he would come into his study for a little conversation. "And, pray," +he added, "how was Lady Cramer when you left her?"</p> + +<p>"In the finest of health and spirits," was the answer. "Indeed, sir, you +would vow she was but twenty years old. She is the gayest of the gay, +and outdresses the Parisians."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae bowed, but made no answer, and Mrs. Caird, who knew every +phase and mood of the man's temper, was quite sure that no words could +have translated that silence. It was like a black frost. For he had in +his breast pocket a letter from Lady Cramer, received an hour +previously, in which she described herself as really ill with longing +for him, having no heart for the follies and gaieties of Paris and +seldom going out. Further, she declared that nothing but the wretched +climate of Scotland kept her from flying back to Cramer and to him; but +her cough troubled her in damp weather, and she felt herself frail, and +wished to get well and strong for his sake.</p> + +<p>"And I have been believing and pitying this lying woman!" he said in an +awful whisper, as he took the false message from his breast, and with a +silent rage savagely placed his foot upon it. "I will never write +another word to this shameless creature! I will never speak to her +again! If she sought her pardon at my feet, I would spurn her from me," +and to such passionate evil promises he trod the lying letter under his +foot. Then he sat down, erect and motionless, with eyes fixed and arms +folded across his breast. For, though trouble with the majority runs +into motion, with Dr. Macrae it gathered itself together, and in a +still, dumb intentness thought out how best to suffer or to do.</p> + +<p>Fortunately Richard had so much to say to Marion that his breakfast +occupied him nearly a couple of hours, and by that time Dr. Macrae had +decided on his course. He was now more than ever determined to prevent +his daughter's marriage to Lord Cramer. How could he permit her to come +under the influence of a woman so wicked as Lady Cramer? She would +either alienate his daughter from him or she would alienate her husband, +and make his child a wronged and miserable wife. To prevent this +marriage had suddenly become the most imperative duty of his life.</p> + +<p>Really, from Dr. Macrae's point of view, there was nothing favorable for +Marion in it. He held his uncle's ideas with regard to the superior +nobility of the Macraes; he did not like Lord Cramer personally, and he +believed him to be much poorer than he really was. With the pertinacity +of his race he still clung to the Reid alliance. He told himself that +circumstances have a kind of omnipotence, and that any day they might +alter affairs so radically that Marion might come to see things as he +did. "If Cramer would only go to the other side of the earth," he +whispered, "it would leave a vacuum in Marion's life. Nature abhors a +vacuum; she would hasten to fill it, and there is the possibility—yes, +the likelihood—that Allan might slip into that other man's place, or +the other man might be killed—or he might see someone he liked better +than Marion—if Richard Cramer would only go away—if he would only go +forever—yes, forever! It is no sin to wish a bad man to his deserts."</p> + +<p>At this reflection Richard Cramer entered the room, and the first words +he uttered seemed to promise a realization of Dr. Macrae's desire.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," he said, as he took the chair Dr. Macrae indicated, "well, +sir, I am going with the Enniskillen Dragoons to India next week, but +our route is far north, and so we shall doubtless escape the cholera."</p> + +<p>"But not the warlike native tribes?"</p> + +<p>"We are going to turn them into peaceable tribes."</p> + +<p>"Not an easy task."</p> + +<p>"It will be done."</p> + +<p>"Yes—finally."</p> + +<p>"Sir, you must know that I have loved your daughter ever since I first +saw her. I ask your permission to make her my wife."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae remained silent.</p> + +<p>"I cannot bear the idea of waiting for nearly two years."</p> + +<p>"You will be compelled to wait."</p> + +<p>"Sir?"</p> + +<p>"It is my will that you wait."</p> + +<p>"Marion wishes to go with me."</p> + +<p>"Have you asked her to go with you?"</p> + +<p>"Not definitely, but——"</p> + +<p>"Ah! I thought so."</p> + +<p>"I will ask her to go with me now, and she will go."</p> + +<p>"She will not. I forbid it. She will be her own mistress in twenty +months. She can marry you then—if she wishes. But I advise you to give +her up."</p> + +<p>"Never! Until Marion gives me up I will never give Marion up. I swear +it!"</p> + +<p>"She is my daughter for twenty months longer. Time is sure to bring +changes. Even now she would not leave me to go with you to India. You +must be mad to imagine such a thing."</p> + +<p>"I am in love. I trust her love by my own. She will do as I wish."</p> + +<p>"She will keep faith with her father. You shall see that," and he rose, +threw open the door of the room, and called imperatively,</p> + +<p>"<i>Marion!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Father," was the ready answer. "Do you want me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Come quickly."</p> + +<p>Lord Cramer had followed him into the hall, and when Dr. Macrae +perceived this some innate, in-born sense of courtesy due the stranger +within his gate caused him to return at once to his study. In two or +three minutes Cramer followed. He had Marion's hand in his, and Mrs. +Caird was but a few steps behind. She entered the room with them, and +Dr. Macrae looked at her not very pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"I did not call you, Jessy," he said.</p> + +<p>"I am aware of that fact, Ian," she answered. "I called myself."</p> + +<p>"We are not requiring your presence."</p> + +<p>"I was never more needed. What for are you wanting Marion?"</p> + +<p>"You can stay and hear, if you wish."</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Macrae took the chair at his desk, and Marion and Lord Cramer +stood before him. Their hands were still clasped, and unconsciously +Marion leaned slightly toward her lover. The transfiguration of love +suffused her face, and she stood smiling in all its glory. Dr. Macrae +was struck afresh by a beauty he had hitherto regarded too little. He +saw in her at this hour the noblest type of Celtic loveliness—its +winning face, splendid form, rich coloring, all vivified by a +well-cultivated intellect, and made charming and winsome by childlike +confidence and simplicity. For a moment his heart swelled with pride as +the sense of his fatherhood flashed over him.</p> + +<p>"Marion," he said not unkindly, "Marion, Lord Cramer tells me you are +willing to go to India with him. I cannot believe it."</p> + +<p>"I have promised Richard to be his wife, so then, wherever he dwells, +there my home will be. Is not that right, Father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, under proper conditions. But a promise made out of law and time is +no promise. The law of your native land forbids you to make that +promise, without my consent, until you are twenty-one years old."</p> + +<p>"What right has the law of England to interfere with my marriage?" Then +she laughed cheerfully, and said, "But it is no matter, dear Father, for +you are above the law in this case. You have only to say, 'I do not want +to delay or spoil your happiness, Marion; I am quite willing you should +marry——'"</p> + +<p>"Marion, it would be impossible for me to say such words. How can I be +willing for you to go to a country so far off—a country full of deadly +diseases and constant fighting—where the heat is intolerable and savage +beasts, treacherous men and deadly serpents abound everywhere—yes, +where even the insect life makes human existence a constant torture."</p> + +<p>"Father, many delicately nurtured women brave all these things, for +their husbands' sakes."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and the majority die in doing so. That is, however, your side of +the question. But I also have a definite right in this matter, a direct +ethical right, which in the stress of this unhappy hour I feel fully +justified in claiming. In my favor the law considers that for nineteen +years I have had all the care, anxiety and expense of your feeding, +clothing and education—that I have provided you with teachers and +physicians, and looked after your religious instruction."</p> + +<p>"I cannot see that there was any necessity for the law of the land to be +looking after your rights in respect to the care and education of the +children," said Mrs. Caird. "The interest of Marion's money paid both +Marion's and Donald's expenses excepting——"</p> + +<p>"I am stating the conditions and provisions of a law, Jessy, not any +particular application of it."</p> + +<p>"Then what for are you naming its application to yourself?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae ignored Mrs. Caird's question, and continued: "This law +argues, and very justly, that a girl who has received nineteen years of +unlimited love and attention of all kinds should remain until she is +twenty-one to brighten her parents' home, learn how to estimate their +affection and goodness to her, and get some ideas concerning the world +into which she may finally go. It permits her parents, also, to bring +proper lovers to her notice, and to point out the faults of those not +worthy of her regard. It is a law that all girls with money of their own +should rigorously observe;" and in making this last remark Dr. Macrae +looked so pointedly at Lord Cramer that he was quite justified in +defending himself.</p> + +<p>"Minister Macrae," he said, "I have never supposed that Marion had any +fortune; if she has, I want none of it. You ought to know that. Not a +penny piece." And he raised his head proudly and drew Marion closer to +his side, and whispered a word or two, which she answered by a bright, +loving smile, and an emphatic, "No!"</p> + +<p>"Marion has twenty thousand pounds from her mother," said Dr. Macrae. +"She has a very wealthy uncle who will not forget her—and other +relatives."</p> + +<p>"You need not count Jessy Caird among 'the other relatives,' Ian. My +money is all going to Donald—every bawbee of it."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae looked at her, and then continued: "My dear Marion, the case +is now fully stated to you. You are your own judge. I am at your mercy"; +and he stood up and regarded the poor girl with eyes from which his +passionate soul radiated an influence that it was almost impossible to +resist.</p> + +<p>"O Father!" she cried, "what is it you wish?"</p> + +<p>"That you should deal justly with me. If you have no love left for your +father, at least give him justice."</p> + +<p>"You mean that I must pay you the toll of two years' love service for my +support and education?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Then she turned to her lover and put her hands upon his shoulders. Her +cheeks were flaming and her eyes brimming with tears. "Good-bye, +Richard!" she cried. "Good-bye, dearest of all! I must pay this debt. My +Father refuses to release me. I must free myself."</p> + +<p>"This decision is what I expected from my daughter," said Dr. Macrae, +and he rose and went to her side and took her hand.</p> + +<p>"One moment, sir!" said Richard, with all the scorn imaginable; "and, +Marion, my darling, remember in one year, seven months and eleven days I +shall come for you. It is dreadful to leave you so long in the power of +a man so cruel and so wickedly selfish, but——"</p> + +<p>"Our interview is over, Lord Cramer, and I do not forget that abuse is +the privilege of the defeated."</p> + +<p>Richard was holding Marion's hands, looking into her dear face, +listening to her short, quick words of devotion, and he never answered +Dr. Macrae one word, but the look on Lord Cramer's face, his defiant +attitude, and his marked and intentional silence were the most +unbearable of repartees. He glanced then at Mrs. Caird, and, putting +Marion's arm through his own, they passed out of the room together. Dr. +Macrae was furious, but Mrs. Caird stepped between him and the lovers, +and, while Richard was kissing and comforting his betrothed, and +promising to come again that night for a last interview, there were some +straight, never-to-be-forgotten words passing between the Minister and +his sister-in-law.</p> + +<p>No one that day wanted dinner. Mrs. Caird and Marion had a cup of tea in +Mrs. Caird's parlor, and the Minister refused to open his door or answer +anyone that spoke to him. But the maids in the kitchen, as they ate an +unusually long and hearty meal, were sure the Minister was right and +Mrs. Caird and Miss Marion wrong. In those days Scotchmen were always +right in any domestic dispute, and the women always wrong. For six +thousand years of strict wife culture had taught women not only to give +three-fourths of the apple to man, but also to assume all the blame of +their enjoyment of it.</p> + +<p>What the Minister suffered and did in those lonely hours between morning +and evening no one but God knew. There was not a movement in the room +nor any sound of a human voice, either in prayer or complaint. Dr. +Macrae was not a praying man—what Calvinist can be? If all this trouble +had come of necessity, if it had been foreordained, how could he either +reason with God or entreat Him for its removal? It was in some way or +other necessary to the divine scheme of events; it would be a grave +presumption to desire its removal.</p> + +<p>Always questions of this kind had stood between God and Dr. Macrae, so +that he considered private prayer a dangerous freedom with the purpose +of the Eternal. Alas! he did not realize that we are members of that +mysterious Presence of God in which we live and move and have our being; +and that, as speech is the organ of human intercourse, so prayer is the +organ of divine fellowship and divine training. He had long ceased to +pray, and they who do not use a gift lose it; just as a man who does not +use a limb loses power in it. Poor soul! How could he know that prayer +prevails with God? How could he know?</p> + +<p>Marion had, however, the promise of a farewell visit in the evening, and +what had not been said in the morning's interview could then be +remedied. For this visit she prepared herself with loving carefulness, +putting on the pale blue silk, with pretty laces and fresh ribbons, +which was Richard's favorite, and adding to its attractions a scarlet +japonica in her black hair. She knew that she had never looked lovelier, +and after her father had left the house she began to watch for her +lover. Richard was aware that the Minister was due at his vestry at +half-past seven, and Marion was sure that Richard would be with her by +that time. He was not. At eight o'clock he had neither come nor sent any +explanation of his broken tryst. By this time she could not speak and +she could not sit still. At nine o'clock she whispered, "He is not +coming. I am going to my room."</p> + +<p>"Wait a little longer, dear," said Mrs. Caird.</p> + +<p>"There is no use, Aunt. He is not coming. I can feel it."</p> + +<p>And Marion's feelings were correct. Richard neither came nor sent any +explanation of his absence, and the miserable girl was distracted by her +own imaginations. In the morning she was so ill her aunt would not +permit her to rise. Hour after hour they sat together, trying to evoke +from their fears and feelings the reason for conduct so unlike Richard +Cramer's usual kindness and respect.</p> + +<p>"He has concluded to decline a marriage so offensive to my father," said +Marion. "I have thought of his behavior all night long, Aunt, and this +is the only reason he can possibly have."</p> + +<p>By afternoon Mrs. Caird was weary of this never-ceasing iteration, and +finally agreed with her niece. Then Marion had a pitiful storm of +weeping, and, after she had been a little comforted, Mrs. Caird suddenly +said, with a voice and expression of hope, "I know what to do. Why did I +not think of it before?"</p> + +<p>"What will you do, Aunt? What will you do?"</p> + +<p>"I will go and see your uncle. He can clear up the mystery—if there is +one. It is now two o'clock. I will go straight about the business. At +the worst I can but fail, and I never do fail if there is any +probability to work on. Wait hopefully for an hour or two, and I will be +back with good news, no doubt."</p> + +<p>Then she dressed herself with some care, and, calling a cab, drove to +Major Macrae's house in Blytheswood Square. It was a handsome, +self-contained dwelling with business offices at the back. There was no +intimation of this purpose, but the visitors who went there on business +knew the plain green door that admitted them to chambers about which +there was an atmosphere of great concerns and aristocratic +business—perhaps also of some mystery. The latter distinction suited +Macrae; it was necessary to the class of clients with whom he did the +most of his business.</p> + +<p>It clung also to himself, almost as if it was a natural characteristic. +No man of wealth and prominence was so little known and so much +misunderstood, but he was amused, rather than annoyed, by the variety of +opinions concerning him, holding himself always a little apart, so as to +be in important matters a final judge or director. He had quite as much +temper as his nephew, but it was better in kind and surer in control. +His intellect was broad and clear, his love of literature knew no +limitation, and in religious matters he trusted no living man. He was a +master among his fellows, and he did not give women any opportunities to +influence him. It was known that he had positively refused to attend to +the business of ladies of high birth and great wealth, and even his +house servants were all young men, noiseless, silent, thoroughly trained +for the work they had to do.</p> + +<p>All these real peculiarities, with many others not as real, were +familiar to Mrs. Caird, and at a little earlier date she would never +have thought of calling on him. But Donald's opinion of his uncle had +entirely changed her own, and she looked forward with a pleasant +curiosity to an opportunity to form her own estimate. She found him in a +fortunate mood. He was taking his afternoon smoke when her card was +given to him, and it roused instantly in his mind a curiosity to see +whether Donald's love and lauding of Aunt Caird were worth anything. +Also he liked to know the innermost coil of an untoward or unhappy +circumstance, and he was not sure that either Donald or Richard had made +a naked confession to him. In this family affair he felt sure Mrs. Caird +might be the key to the situation.</p> + +<p>So he rose with great cordiality to meet her, and a moment's glance at +the pretty woman so handsomely dressed, so well poised, so smiling and +good-mannered, thoroughly satisfied him. With the grace and courtesy of +a man used to the best society, he placed a chair near his own for her, +and during that act Mrs. Caird made a swift but correct estimate of the +man she had to manage. Physically he had the great stature and dark +beauty of his family. His hair was still black, his eyes large and gray, +with a courageous twinkle in the iris, his figure erect, his walk +soldierly, his manner commanding. He impressed a stranger as tough, +unconquerable, fearless, like an ash tree, yielding very slowly, even to +time.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mrs. Caird," he said, as he seated himself beside her, "I know you +have not come to call on me without a reason. Is it about the children?"</p> + +<p>"Just that, Major, and thank you for coming to the point at once. I am +very unhappy about Donald."</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you Donald has taken the road of happiness to his own +desires. To ware your sympathy on Donald is pure wastrie. The lad is +happy."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"I could not tell you, unless I was at sea, and taking his latitude and +longitude."</p> + +<p>"Where is he going?"</p> + +<p>"To New York—perhaps."</p> + +<p>"America?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, America is the second native land of all not satisfied with their +first one."</p> + +<p>"Have you any address through which a letter would reach him in New +York?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, I have."</p> + +<p>"I want to send him one hundred pounds. Will you send it for me?"</p> + +<p>"No, I will not. There will be three hundred pounds lying in the Bank of +New York for him when he gets there, and he had sixty pounds with him. +That is enough at present. He can make a spoon or spoil the horn with +that."</p> + +<p>"Is he going to stop in New York?"</p> + +<p>"Not long. New Yorkers are very easy with their money. They'll give it +away for a song that pleases them—or a lilt on the wee fiddle—or even +a few steps of clever dancing."</p> + +<p>"I know someone, not far from me, just as easy with their money—under +the same circumstances."</p> + +<p>Then the Major laughed. "You are right, Mrs. Caird," he said. "I declare +you are right. Oh, but you are a quick woman!"</p> + +<p>"Well, after he has done with New York, where is he then going?"</p> + +<p>"Straight west as far as the Mississippi River. What he will do on the +way to the river no one knows—but luck is waiting for him."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he will go to California."</p> + +<p>"No. California gold does not tempt him. He is going down the +Mississippi to New Orleans. A good many Scotch boys are there. I gave +him letters to three whom I sent to New Orleans fourteen years ago. They +are well-to-do cotton merchants now."</p> + +<p>"You help a great many men, Major?"</p> + +<p>"These three smoked their pipes with me in the trenches at Redan; and we +rode together down the red lanes of Inkerman. I was making friends for +Donald then."</p> + +<p>"But Donald will not stay in the city of New Orleans?"</p> + +<p>"Would Donald stay in any city? As soon as he wishes it he will journey +for that land of God called Texas. If I had been twenty years younger, I +would have gone with him—just for a sight of the place. Glorious +things are told of it—you would think it was the New Jerusalem itself."</p> + +<p>"Once I heard Richard Cramer say that he was going there to stay with a +friend. Why did you send him to the army?"</p> + +<p>"Did I send him?"</p> + +<p>"He told us you advised the army."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but <i>sending</i> and <i>advising</i> are very different terms."</p> + +<p>"In your mouth, Major, they would be the same."</p> + +<p>Then the Major laughed again and answered: "You have a wonderful +perception, Mrs. Caird. I dare say Cramer told you to what locality in +Texas he was going? Donald is now going there for him."</p> + +<p>"He spoke most of the immense ranch of Lord Thomas Carew. He said he had +bought with his inheritance as a younger son a dukedom of the richest +and loveliest land in the world—somewhere on the Guadaloupe River, not +far from San Antonio. It was like listening to a fairy tale to hear him +describe its beauties. And he said that last summer the ladies, Alice +and Annie Carew, accompanied by their eldest brother, visited Lord +Thomas; and that, after four months' stay in his handsome bungalow, when +they had to return to England, Lady Alice refused to leave Texas. He +thought she was still there."</p> + +<p>"She is. I had a letter from her father a week ago, and he told me Lord +Thomas and Lady Alice were yet living in Paradise. They are just 'Tom +and Alice Carew' there. Their life is absolutely free, simple and happy. +Titles would be too big a burden to carry, but they will be glad of +Donald's company, and make much of him, doubtless."</p> + +<p>"They will that. Oh, the dear, dear, joyful singing lad!" and, though +Mrs. Caird's voice was low and soft, there was a caress in every word +she spoke.</p> + +<p>The Major looked at her with pleasure, and then asked, "How is Donald's +sister? Is she as lovable and handsome as her brother?"</p> + +<p>"Whiles—in a woman's way—yes. Her father's heart is set on her, and +she is breaking her heart about Richard Cramer's going to India. What +for, at all, did you send him?"</p> + +<p>"Me send him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you."</p> + +<p>"Well, as you are a wise woman, and love all of the three youngsters, +I'll tell you. I sent Richard Cramer out of my way. I sent him where he +could not meddle or interfere with what I am doing to make him solvent +and happy. And I wanted him to be under authority a little before I put +him in full possession of a big estate, free of debt. He has had too +much of his own way—he is obeying orders now—that's good for him."</p> + +<p>"But when you set him free, what then?"</p> + +<p>"He will marry Marion Macrae, and I count on a Macrae—man or +woman—getting their full share of their own way in all things."</p> + +<p>"Why did he not come and bid Marion good-bye last night? She is fairly +ill this morning. Why did he not come?"</p> + +<p>"Because, while the Minister and he were explaining themselves, a +telegram came ordering him to join his ship without a moment's delay. +She was going to sail Thursday, instead of Saturday. I had two men +seeking him, and his valet had packed his valise, and he had twenty +minutes to reach his train. He could not have written her, even a line, +if someone had not been thoughtful enough to have paper and pencil ready +to push into his hand."</p> + +<p>"Then he did write to her?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, he wrote to her. Poor lad, he was near to crying as he did so."</p> + +<p>"She never got that letter."</p> + +<p>"My certie! I forgot it! Will you take it?"</p> + +<p>"Will I take it? It is what I came for. Goodness! Gracious! Only to +think of you keeping what may be his last message to her! O man, how +could you? It is a cruel-like thing to do. It was that."</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry for it. I quite forgot. I am not used to sending love +letters. I never was in love in my life."</p> + +<p>"I am not believing you. No, sir! I am sure some good woman's love +sweetened the dour, ill-tempered Macrae blood in your heart. Think +backward a matter of forty years and you will maybe remember her name."</p> + +<p>He looked at Mrs. Caird in amazement, and then lifted her hand, "You are +right," he answered slowly. "I remember her, a dear, sweet girl, fresh +and pure as the mountain bluebells she had in her hand when we first +met. She died one morning—whispering my name as she went. I loved her! +Yes, I loved her!"</p> + +<p>"Good man! I am glad you told me. I know you now, and I am not feared +for you any longer. Give me Marion's letter."</p> + +<p>"Cannot you stay half an hour longer?"</p> + +<p>"Not now."</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you about Ian."</p> + +<p>"You had better talk to him. He is requiring some one to do so. He is +spelling life now with a woman's name."</p> + +<p>"Marion's?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"The lovely widow Grant's?"</p> + +<p>"No. You must look higher up."</p> + +<p>"You don't—you can't mean Lady Cramer?"</p> + +<p>"Just Lady Cramer."</p> + +<p>"The mischief! Is it true?"</p> + +<p>"True? I should say so. I am living at his side, and love and a cold +can't be hid. Forbye, he is reading books he has no business to read, +and writing letters he ought not to write—love letters."</p> + +<p>"Why should he not write love letters if he wishes to do so?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am sure my Lady Cramer is only making a fool of him."</p> + +<p>"It would be most like her—though mind you, Mrs. Caird, she is playing +with fire. Ian is a very fascinating man. She will likely get the +heartache herself she is sorting out for him. I'll have a talk with the +Minister. Think of him trusting that woman! the blind fool! the mortal +idiot!"</p> + +<p>"Not as bad as that."</p> + +<p>"Ay, and worse, if I had the words I want for his folly. Here is +Marion's letter. Tell her I am perfectly annoyed at myself for +forgetting it. She must forgive me."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Major. I am glad I came."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye. You are welcome here. I hope you will come again—soon."</p> + +<p>And oh, how welcome she was when she reached home. Marion was watching +for her, and when Mrs. Caird, as she left the cab, held up the letter +Marion was at the door to take it from her hand. Her eyes dilated with +rapture when she saw Richard's writing, and, after kissing and thanking +her aunt, she ran away with it to her room. There was no offense in +that—Mrs. Caird both understood and sympathized with the movement. And +when she went into the parlor, an hour afterward, she found Marion +rocking gently in the firelight and, with closed eyes, singing softly to +herself:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My heart is like a singing bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose nest is in a watered shoot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is like an apple-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose boughs are bent with sweetest fruit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is like a rainbow shell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That paddles in a halcyon sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is gladder than all these,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because my love has come to me."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>MACRAE LEARNS A HARD LESSON</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What though it be the last time we shall meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raise your white brow and wreath of golden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fill with music sweet the summer air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not this again shall draw me to your feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Peace, let me go."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Joyful or sorrowful, the days go by. With what passes in the soul and +heart the hours meddle not, but over our physical life they are +relentless masters. No matter how full of trouble the heart is, we must +enter common life, must have dry eyes and take part in conversation; for +the moment we differ from everyone else everyone is surprised. The meals +are to be cooked, the parlor swept, callers are to be received, and +calls are to be made, and we must dress the body decorously for dinner, +though the heart and soul be sitting in sackcloth. Such experiences are +very costly; we pay for them with wearisome days and wakeful nights, +with wasted energies and lost illusions.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Caird lifted the life emptied of Donald with the serenity and +cheerfulness of her fine nature. She thought of him, and talked of him, +and watched for the letters that were sure to come to her, constantly +reminding herself how interesting they were certain to be and how glad +she was that her boy was having the dew of his youth.</p> + +<p>Marion felt the wrench of events more keenly. To the young everything +that comes to an end is the end of the world. No one can be so hopeless +as the young. It is the middle-aged and the old that have the power of +hoping on through everything, for they have come to the knowledge that +the soul survives all its disappointments and all its calamities. This +is the good wine God keeps for our latter days. Marion rallied as soon +as she received Richard's first letter from his ship; for it is the +sorrow not sure which we feel to be unbearable. That letter enabled her +to locate her lover, and, though the halo of distance and the mystery of +night travel were around him, her soul sought him out and found in the +romance of the situation some balm for her anxiety not without value. +For the young like to believe that their trials are not common trials, +and Marion knew of no girl whose lover had been torn from her side and +sent off to India for nearly two years without notice or preparation for +such an exile. The lovers of all her friends had been acceptable to +their parents, but her lover's proposal had been met by almost insolent +refusal and threat. And he was of ancient and noble lineage, and she +was certain none of the girls in the Church of the Disciples had ever +had a lord for a lover. She felt then that her grief was a very romantic +one, and when grief can consider its romantic features it is not far +from comfort.</p> + +<p>Indeed, in a month the home affairs of the Minister's house had their +settled regular observance. There had been happy letters from both +Richard and Donald, and there was the promise of a regular continuance +of this new element in their lives—an element of constant change and of +unusual events—conversations about letters received and sent—and the +looking forward to those journeying to them by day and night. These +things gave to their lives a sense of romance and of far-off happenings; +for our thoughts and conversation do affect our surroundings, just as +rain affects the atmosphere.</p> + +<p>It was not as well with the Minister as with his daughter and +sister-in-law. To him the world had become a bewildering maze of sorrow +and perplexity. Until his son had gone he had not realized how dear +Donald was to him. Now his empty place at the table was a constant +shock, his voice haunted the house, and he was sometimes so positive +that he heard him going upstairs, whistling "Listen to the Mocking +Bird," that he silently opened his study door to look and listen. And +though Marion had quickly gone back with all her heart to his fatherly +love, though she sat with him and read to him and sang to him, he missed +his boy. Oh, how he missed him!</p> + +<p>Not often did he receive any comfort from Lady Cramer. Sometimes she +ignored his complaints, sometimes made light of them, generally she told +him that her love ought to more than balance all his other love losses. +But nothing that she said had a tone of reality, nothing was +positive—she was going to stay all winter in Paris, she was coming to +London at Christmas time, she was too sick to go out in one letter, and +the next letter was perhaps only a list of invitations to a variety of +houses and amusements received, but which she had neither accepted nor +declined.</p> + +<p>Yet he loved her with a passionate affection, a love full grown in that +one wonderful hour when she made manifest to his suddenly awakened heart +her own love for him. It is said that when love flames before it burns +it dies quickly; but Ian's love, flaming in a moment, had stood within +the past three months all the tests that a capricious, absent woman +could give it. As Christmas approached he was in a fever of expectation, +and he told himself that she would now return to London and redeem all +her promises to him.</p> + +<p>He had made no confidant of his love affair with Lady Cramer, and +passion lived long in him, just as fire that is covered lives long. But +Mrs. Caird read his story as clearly as if he had put it into words. And +she was sorry for him, for the man's life had been broken to pieces, and +nothing that had once seemed of great importance to him was now cared +for. One morning near Christmas he packed, with angry haste, all the +papers and books left to him by the late Lord Cramer, and sent them to +the care of the steward at Cramer Hall. Mrs. Caird watched the +proceeding, but she made no remark, and when the carrier came to take +them away she was equally silent. She heard Ian give him a few short, +sharp directions, after which he put some money into his hand and then +went directly to his study.</p> + +<p>It was a wretched day, the heavy fog shrouded all things and fused the +melancholy noises of the street into a dull rumble, while a soft +drizzling rain added to the general depression. Through the misty +windows Mrs. Caird watched the man carrying the box to the cart which +would convey it to the railroad station. It was a plain wood box, much +longer than it was wide, and in the dim gray light it looked very like a +coffin. At any rate, it reminded Mrs. Caird of one, and she said to +herself: "It is really a coffin. What wrecked Faith and dead Hopes! What +memories of a life that can never come back it carries away!"</p> + +<p>It left the feeling of a funeral with her, and the feeling haunted her +all the day long. Late in the afternoon she went to her room to rest a +while, and she fell asleep and dreamed that the long white box was full +of slain souls, and it cost her a strong physical effort—an effort like +that of removing her clothes—to throw off her mind the uncanny +influence it had established.</p> + +<p>Then she remembered that Marion was going to a dinner and dance at +Deacon Lockerby's, and she hastened to her room to see if she was +preparing for the event. She found Marion fully dressed, and the girl +rose, smiling, shook out her pink tarlatan gown, and asked, "Am I pretty +enough to-night, Aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Quite," was the answer. "I wish Richard could see you. Where did you +get that exquisite lace bertha?"</p> + +<p>"Father went to Campbell's and bought it for me this morning. I told him +last night that I wanted a bertha, but disliked to go out in the fog to +buy one, and Father said, 'I will go for you,' and I was so astonished +and pleased I let him do it."</p> + +<p>"You did right, but you know it is just like a man's purchase. I can see +your father walk up to a clerk and say, 'I want a bertha, so many +inches, good and pretty as you have'—no mention of its price."</p> + +<p>"It is very pretty."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and no doubt it cost ten times as much as a girl's bertha should +cost—but it was a good spending, and I dare say he had a lighter heart +as well as a lighter purse after it."</p> + +<p>"I know I was charmed by his goodness, and I told him so in half a dozen +ways, and, Aunt, at last—I kissed him. Yes, I really did. And Father +looked at me with tears in his eyes, and at that moment I could have +done anything he asked me to do."</p> + +<p>"I'll warrant you. Your father ought then to have——"</p> + +<p>"Please, Aunt, do not say the words on your lips. Nothing in life could +separate me from Richard, and you know it."</p> + +<p>"Well, well. Go and show yourself to your father, and be in a hurry. I +hear a carriage at the door. Will you have a cup of tea before you go?"</p> + +<p>"Aileen brought me one here. I want no more."</p> + +<p>They went to the door together, and as the vehicle drove away a youth +stepped through the fog, whistling merrily,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There's a good time coming, boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wait a little longer."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He made Mrs. Caird think of Donald, and she blessed him as he passed. +"I am not superstitious," she whispered, "not at all, but when a good +word comes to me I am going to take it and be glad of its message." "A +good time coming"—to these words singing in her heart she went into the +parlor and tinkled the little silver bell, which was answered by Kitty +bringing in the teapot under its satin cozy. A few minutes afterward the +Minister entered. The table had been set for him and Mrs. Caird by the +parlor hearth, and he took his chair silently. Then they were alone, +and, as he lifted his cup, he casually lifted his eyes and met the love +and sorrow in Mrs. Caird's eyes, and there was a moment's swift +understanding between them. Dr. Macrae stretched out his long, lean +hand, and she clasped it and said, "Cheer up, Ian; things are never as +bad as you think they are."</p> + +<p>He smiled faintly and asked, "Where is Marion going?"</p> + +<p>"I thought she told you."</p> + +<p>"She did. I had forgotten. To James Lockerby's, I think she said."</p> + +<p>"Yes, his daughter is engaged to David Grant. It is her betrothal +party."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause, then she continued: "I met Thomas Reid +to-day on Buchanan Street. He told me that the city intended nominating +him for Parliament."</p> + +<p>"Him!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He said it was a great prospect, requiring extra diligence in +business and very punctual observance of church ordinances."</p> + +<p>"Had the city of Glasgow no better man to send to Parliament than Thomas +Reid—although Reid is a clever man—unquestionably so."</p> + +<p>"He has at least <i>survived</i>, and that is <i>the</i> cleverness, according to +Darwin. He sent Marion a message, but I have not given it to her."</p> + +<p>"What had he to say to Marion?"</p> + +<p>"He asked me to remind her of the opportunities she had thrown away. He +said if he was sent to Parliament he should take all his family to +London for the season, and that then Marion might have stepped into a +circle above her own—the very best society, of course, being open to a +woman with a father in Parliament."</p> + +<p>"What answer did you make, Jessy?"</p> + +<p>"My words were ready. I was intensely angry at his inclusion of Marion +in 'his family,' and still more angry at his appropriation of the title +of 'father' in any shape to my niece, and I answered haughtily: 'Sir, on +her twenty-first birthday Miss Macrae will become the wife of Lord +Richard Cramer. He was in Her Majesty's Household before his father's +death, and on his return from India will probably resume his duties at +St. James's Palace. That will give Miss Macrae entrance into the royal +circle. There is no higher one.'"</p> + +<p>"You said well, Jessy. And I am glad you were able to give the cocksure +insolence of the purse-proud creature such a perfect rebuff. Did he say +anything further?"</p> + +<p>"For a moment he was astonished and mortified, but he quickly rallied, +and said, with a queer little laugh, 'That is a great exaltation for the +young lady. Just keep her head level by reminding her that there's many +a slip between the cup and the lip.' Then I said, 'Good morning, sir.'"</p> + +<p>After a few moments' silence Mrs. Caird continued in a tentative manner, +as if reminding herself of the circumstance, "There was a long letter +from Donald this morning."</p> + +<p>A sudden interest came into Dr. Macrae's face, though his listless voice +did not show it; however, Mrs. Caird was watching his face, not his +voice, and she was not astonished when he asked:</p> + +<p>"Where is he? Has he reached America?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! He is in London at present. He escorted Lady Cramer from Paris +to London two days ago."</p> + +<p>"Lady Cramer?"</p> + +<p>"She requested him to do so."</p> + +<p>"What was Donald doing in Paris?"</p> + +<p>"When he first left Glasgow he went to Paris to see his friend, Matthew +Ballantyne. Matthew had gone to Rome, and he followed him there, and he +has been studying with Matthew's Roman master until Christmas drew near. +Then he resolved to spend his Christmas in England and leave for New +York at the beginning and not at the end of the year. In Paris he met +Lady Cramer in the foyer of the Grand Opera House, and she induced him +to stay with her, and to finally convey her to the Cramer House in +London. It looks like kindness in Lady Cramer, but Donald is an +extraordinarily handsome man, and women like her want such in their +train."</p> + +<p>"Like her! What do you mean, Jessy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, gay, flirting women, who count men's broken hearts and hopes very +ornamental to themselves. As like as not she will be making eyes at +Donald. I wish he was out of her seductions and safe on the Atlantic."</p> + +<p>"If my advice had been taken, he would now be safe in the hallowed halls +of St. Andrews. How can he afford such carryings on? They cost money."</p> + +<p>"Donald will never want money while I live; forbye, the violin in his +hand is a sure fortune."</p> + +<p>"Was it not Izaak Walton who said that God had given to some men +intelligence and to others the art of playing on the fiddle?"</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you, Ian, a man could not play the fiddle without +intelligence. My goodness! he requires brains to his fingers' ends to +play as Donald plays. But Izaak Walton is right in one thing—Donald's +gift is the gift of God, and every gift of God is good if used for +innocent purpose. For myself, I am real glad that Donald's gift was +music. There will be music in heaven, but there is no mention of +preaching there; no matter how many play and sing in a household, if +they do it well, there are never too many; but one preacher is enough in +any family."</p> + +<p>"Do not be angry, Jessy. It was but a passing remark—blame Izaak Walton +for it—if it was he."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt it was he. The remark is just what you would expect +from a man who could spend day after day and year after year putting +hooks through the throats of fishes only weighing a pound or two. I +think he would need few brains for that vocation. The silly body with +his fishing rod! I wonder at sensible people quoting anything he says."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae laughed a little, silent laugh which did not brighten his sad +face, and then asked, "What time will Marion be home?"</p> + +<p>"After midnight; you would do right if you went for her."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go. You need have no fear, Jessy. I will be at Lockerby's +before midnight."</p> + +<p>"Marion will be pleased, and the Lockerbys will take it as a great +honor. Speak kindly to the young people; you will make them your friends +forever."</p> + +<p>"Jessy, something has come between me and my people, something that +dashes and interferes. It has grown up lately."</p> + +<p>"It is yourself, Ian. You are different. Your countenance used to be +steadfast and hopeful, your voice strong and sincere, your simple +presence encouraging. Your face is now troubled, your voice indifferent, +your presence has lost much of that sympathy which binds one heart to +another."</p> + +<p>"My congregation, Jessy, is too material to be moved by anything but +spoken words or positive actions."</p> + +<p>"Unconsciously your face—so dark and pathetic—moves them. The immortal +Dweller, in molding its home, uses only the material you give it. So the +sense of desolation, which has been stirred in you by the writings of +Darwin, Schopenhauer, Comte and others, is visible on your countenance; +and your people look on you and catch your spirit, even as we look over +an infected country and catch its malaria."</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae shook his head in desponding denial, and Mrs. Caird +continued: "What has Kant's 'Thing in Itself,' or Hegel's 'Absolute,' or +Pascal's 'Abysom,' or Renan's 'Scepticism,' or Spencer's 'Agnosticism' +given you? O Ian, what are they but words empty of help or meaning to +souls who have lost their faith in God. Listen to this," she cried, as, +moving swiftly to a small hanging bookcase, she took from it a slim +volume, "a man like yourself, Ian, fighting his doubts and fears and sad +forecastings, wrote them;" and her eager face and intense sympathy made +him bend his head in acquiescence. They were standing together in the +center of the parlor floor, and Dr. Macrae was anxious to be alone and +consider the news he had just received about Lady Cramer and his son, +but he found something promising in his sister-in-law's words, and he +stood expectantly watching her strong, sweet face as she spoke, or God +in her spoke, these lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Away, haunt thou not me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou vain Philosophy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little hast thou bestead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save to perplex the head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave the Spirit dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto thy broken cisterns wherefore go?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While from the secret treasure depths below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wisdom and Peace and Power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are welling forth incessantly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why labor at the dull mechanic oar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the fresh breeze is blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the strong current flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right onward to the Eternal Shore?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Whosoever wrote those lines, Jessy, had lain with me in the dungeons of +Doubting Castle."</p> + +<p>"Arthur Hugh Clough, an English clergyman, wrote them. His feet +well-nigh slipped, but he constantly struggled to hold fast the skirts +of Faith, and bid himself remember that in the Christ creed</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The souls of near two thousand years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have laid up here their toils and fears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the earnings of their pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, yet consider it again!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Let me have the book, Jessy," and he stood a few minutes looking at it. +What Mrs. Caird was saying he heard not, his eyes had fallen upon a few +lines describing the Christ creed:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">"With its humiliations combining<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exaltations sublime, and yet diviner abasements,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aspirations from something most shameful here upon earth, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our poor selves, to something most perfect above in the heavens."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I do not care for poetry, Jessy, but this book appears to reveal a +soul. I will take it to my room; it may have something to say to me."</p> + +<p>But Dr. Macrae did not read any book that night. To sit still with +closed eyes and consider what this sudden association of Lady Cramer and +his son might mean was the most urgent of his desires. Until near +midnight he thought over the circumstance in every possible way, coming +finally to the conclusion that Lady Cramer's attentions to Donald were +a most delicate revelation of her love for himself; and this conviction +brought instantly an acute longing for her presence. He felt that he +must reach London as soon as it was possible. For some weeks he had +anticipated this visit and made the necessary preparations for it. The +finest clothing was ready to put into his valise, and there was little +to do except to secure a minister to supply his pulpit for one Sabbath. +This was easily accomplished, and on a fine, bright Monday morning he +took a very early train southward.</p> + +<p>"I am sure," said Marion, "Father has taken this journey purposely to +see Donald again. It is so good of him, and I do hope Donald will treat +him properly."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" answered Mrs. Caird. "Your father has gone to London to see +Lady Cramer."</p> + +<p>"Aunt, he told me he hoped Donald would be in London; he said he wished +to see him."</p> + +<p>"Then why did he not start for London at once?"</p> + +<p>"He thought Donald would be delayed and detained by Lady Cramer. I +thought so also. She liked to have young men waiting upon her. She +always found them plenty to do. Father wanted to see Donald again."</p> + +<p>"If your father wants anything, it is not his way to wait three or four +days for it."</p> + +<p>"Anyway, I do not believe my father and Lady Cramer are in love with +each other. It is not likely."</p> + +<p>"Do you think Richard and yourself have captured all the love in the +world? Your father is a very handsome man and Lady Cramer is a beautiful +woman. Why should they not be in love with each other?"</p> + +<p>"They are so old, Aunt."</p> + +<p>"Richard is not what I would call a young man. He will be thirty-five +years old."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! He is thirty, and he has never been married. I am his first +love. He told me so, many times he told me so."</p> + +<p>"That is no wonder. All men say such things. Their words stand for just +what you take them at. When I was a girl we used to sing a duet in which +the soprano declared she had heard of a land where every man was true, +where the women issued all orders, and the men did as they were told to +do, and</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'All was sweet serenity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life a long devotion.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then the contralto expressed her longing for such a land, her +willingness to go to it at once, and asked, 'How am I to get there?' +Upon which a young man in the room appointed to give the information +sang out melodiously,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Go <i>straight</i> down the crooked lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And <i>all around</i> the Square?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then both laughed, and Marion said, "Well, Aunt, as no one could go +straight down a crooked lane, or all around a square, no one can find +that happy land of your girlhood. I will go and write to Richard now, +and tell him about the song, and about Father going to London."</p> + +<p>"And do not forget to name Donald's care of his stepmother from Paris to +London."</p> + +<p>"I will tell Richard that also. I had forgotten the circumstance."</p> + +<p>"Everyone forgets Donald."</p> + +<p>And Marion, tired of assuring her aunt that Donald was not forgotten, +answered carelessly, "Yes, they seem to do so. I wonder why?"</p> + +<p>"Because Donald is not requiring their thoughts. Donald can think for +himself; he knows what he wants, and he takes what he wants, and so he +is well served." She was leaving the room as she spoke, and she closed +the door emphatically enough to enforce her opinion.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Dr. Macrae was going southward. In spite of the +philosophies with which he had saturated himself, he had yet in his +nature primitive traits which ruled him—often foolish ones—but so +natural and spontaneous that they were actually dear to him. And among +these relics of ancient feeling was the pleasure of giving surprises. +All the way to London he was telling himself: "How happy Ada will be! +How surprised she will be to see me! I shall walk unexpectedly into her +parlor, and see the love and joy and astonishment light up her beautiful +face as I approach her! That moment will pay for all—for all!"</p> + +<p>He lived in the consideration of that moment all the way to the great +city; but it was dark when he arrived there, and he was tired and +hungry, and quite eager for whatever comfort the old Charing Cross +hostelry could give him. About eight o'clock, however, he was thoroughly +refreshed, and he called a cab and was driven to Lady Cramer's +residence. It was fairly well lighted, and he judged her, therefore, to +be at home. So he dismissed the cab and then walked slowly up and down +before the house for a few minutes. As he was thus steadying himself for +his eagerly desired happiness a carriage drove up to the house, and +immediately afterward Lady Cramer, attended by a tall, middle-aged +gentleman, entered it; and they were driven rapidly away. Dr. Macrae was +by no means a shy man, but love unnerves the bravest when its +environments are strange and uncertain; and he actually allowed Lady +Cramer and her companion to drive away without any effort to arrest +attention. In fact, he realized that he had stepped backward, and this +cowardice made him both angry and ashamed.</p> + +<p>"Why did I not cry halt! Why did I not call her? Why did I let that man +carry her off when I was not more than an arm's length from her?" And +the inner man answered, "You could have stepped to her side, laid your +hand upon her shoulder, and whispered, 'Ada!' in her ear. You had all +the moments necessary. You were too cowardly to take your opportunity."</p> + +<p>For nearly an hour he walked up and down before the house, letting the +poor ape, jealousy, mingle with all his nobler love thoughts; then he +noticed that the lights had been much lowered, and he rang the bell and +asked for Lady Cramer.</p> + +<p>"My Lady has gone to the play," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"At what hour will she return?"</p> + +<p>"It will be very late, sir. There is a supper and dance at Lady +Saville's after the play, sir."</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Macrae put a crown into the man's hand and asked to what +theater Lady Cramer had gone, and, having received this information, he +followed her there.</p> + +<p>"Her Majesty's Theatre."</p> + +<p>Was it conceivable that Dr. Ian Macrae had given such an order? A few +months previously he had said to a large congregation in relation to the +theater, "My feet have never crossed the unhallowed threshold." And he +had made this declaration with what he considered a justifiable +spiritual satisfaction. Would he now transgress a law of his whole life? +Alas! at this hour life meant Lady Adalaide Cramer and to follow her, +see her face, and consider her companion was an urgency he could not +control—had indeed no desire to control.</p> + +<p>He bought a ticket in the pit and looked around. Lady Cramer was not +present, but several boxes were empty, and in a few minutes he saw her +enter one of them. She was the center of a gay party and the most +beautiful woman in it. His ticket, bought at random, had placed him in +an excellent position for seeing the play he had come to see, and it was +hardly likely Lady Cramer would let her eyes fall on anyone beneath the +seats where the nobility sat.</p> + +<p>Dr. Macrae looked at the lady of his hopes first. She had improved +marvelously, she was radiantly beautiful and dressed in some magnificent +manner beyond his power to itemize; yet he felt with a thrill of +idolatrous passion the total effect of the combination. And he kept +telling himself: "She is mine! And I will not suffer any other man to +parade himself in her beauty! I will remain in London until we are +married."</p> + +<p>Then he looked at the man who was parading himself in her beauty, and +had a swift, sharp pang of jealousy. He was about fifty years of age, +one of those large, blond, well-groomed Englishmen who represent the +imperial race at its best. There were two other ladies, a young naval +officer and a well-known diplomat in the box, but Dr. Macrae took no +note of them, though it interested him to see how cleverly Lady Cramer +used them in order to exhibit the little airs and graces which +diversified her gay or sentimental coquetries.</p> + +<p>That Dr. Macrae should enter a theater was not the only wonder of that +night. The play happened to be "Julius Cæsar," and he soon became +enthralled with the large splendor of its old Roman life. He neither +heard nor saw one thing that he could disapprove; and he said to +himself, almost angrily, that it was wrong to prevent the happiness +which hundreds of thousands might receive from such an entertainment if +a mistaken public opinion did not prevent it. And, though this decision +was only rendered mentally, he felt in its rendering all the ministerial +intolerance of one who is deciding <i>ex cathedra</i> a point of great moral +importance. The end of the performance found him in the foyer, watching +for Lady Cramer's appearance. He had not long to wait. She came forward, +leaning on the arm of her escort, and looking, as Dr. Macrae thought, +divinely beautiful. He went straight to her. His step was rapid, his +manner erect, even haughty, and, touching her hand gently, he said, +with ill-concealed emotion:</p> + +<p>"Ada!"</p> + +<p>She started and answered, "Why, Doctor Macrae! Is it possible? In a +theater, too! Oh, it is incredible!"</p> + +<p>"I came to see you, not the play."</p> + +<p>"To-night I am going to a supper and dance at Lady Saville's. Come to +breakfast with me—nine o'clock. See, we are delaying people behind +us—excuse me——" And as she went hurriedly forward she called back +with a smile, "Breakfast—nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>He was so summarily dismissed that he could not answer; then the waiting +crowd made him feel their impatience, and with a sense of humiliation he +went rapidly into the gloomy street. What had happened to him? All his +spirit, all his pride and enthusiasm had vanished. Ada also had +vanished, the play was over, and he had been told to wait until morning.</p> + +<p>He passed the night in a fever of passionate contradictions. He blamed +Ada in words which he had never used in all his life before, he praised +her in words equally extravagant and unusual, and he had pangs of such +cruel suffering, and thrills of such exquisite love and longing, as made +him understand that it is through the mind, and not the body, that the +greatest misery and the most enthralling happiness are experienced.</p> + +<p>But, joyful or sorrowful, he never thought of prayer. If he had, there +was his visit to the theater to be explained, and at the bottom of his +soul's crucible there was yet a residuum of doubt on that score. +Besides, the theater was only a detail; the real trouble was the woman.</p> + +<p>About four o'clock he fell into a sleep so deep that it was far below +the tide of dreams, and when he awakened he had barely time to prepare +himself for his early visit. However, the rest had refreshed him, and +when he left his hotel for Lady Cramer's residence there was not in all +London a man of greater physical beauty or more aristocratic bearing. He +was aware of this fact, and he smiled faintly as he looked in the +mirror, and thought a little contemptuously of any rival he might have.</p> + +<p>Like a true lover, he outran the clock, and reached his tryst some +minutes before the appointed hour. He found Lady Cramer waiting for him. +With beaming face and extended hands she came to meet him, and he forgot +in a moment every word of reproof he had prepared for her. A delicate +breakfast was laid on a table drawn to the hearth of her private parlor, +and when she took her place, and made him draw his chair close to her +own, the cup of his happiness was brimmed. Never before had she seemed +so beautiful and so desirable. Her hair was loosely dressed, and the +open sleeves of her violet silk gown showed the perfection of her hands +and arms without rings or ornaments of any kind but the threadlike band +of gold on her marriage finger. That ring he meant to remove and replace +with one bearing his own and Ada's initials, and, at any rate, it was +but an empty symbol, a dead pledge.</p> + +<p>He did not waste these happy hours in explanations, but spent every +moment in wooing her with all the fervor and passion of his manhood, and +in winning again those tender marks of her favor which had really made +her fly from his influence before. He entreated her to marry him at +once—to-morrow—to-day—and he declared he would not leave London +unless she went with him.</p> + +<p>At this point she made a firm stand. "Marriage is an impossibility just +yet," she answered; and, when pressed for any reason making it so, +replied, "I must see how the affair between Richard and Marion ends +before I entangle myself;" and, while she was making this excuse, there +was the sound of a man's deep, authoritative voice in the hall, and the +next moment he entered the room, full of his own eager pleasure, or at +least feigning to be so. He pretended not to see Dr. Macrae, but cried +out hurriedly:</p> + +<p>"Ada! Ada! The horses are at the door. It is such a lovely morning. Come +for a gallop. Quick, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"Duke, you do not see my friend. Let me introduce you to Dr. Ian Macrae, +the most eminent of our Scotch ministers."</p> + +<p>"Glad to meet you, Doctor. Glad to see Ada—Lady Cramer—has such a wise +friend. Kindly advise her, sir, to take her morning gallop—her +physician considers it imperative. I have left all my affairs to take +care of her, and I hope you will advise her to obey orders. Run away and +put on your habit, Ada. The animals are restive and Simpson is holding +both."</p> + +<p>Ada looked at Ian and smiled, and what could Ian do? He was not a good +rider. He had never escorted a lady on horseback in a public park; he +knew nothing of the rites and regulations of that duty. It was better to +give place than to render himself ridiculous. So he bowed gravely, and, +turning to Ada, said:</p> + +<p>"I advise you to take your morning ride, Lady Cramer. I can see you +afterward."</p> + +<p>"Come in to dinner, then, Doctor, and let us have our talk out about my +stepson."</p> + +<p>"It will not be convenient," and with these words he retired.</p> + +<p>"A remarkably handsome, aristocratic man," said the Duke. "Make some +haste, Ada, or we may miss the sunshine."</p> + +<p>And as Lady Cramer ascended to her dressing-room she sighed sorrowfully, +"I have missed it."</p> + +<p>During this scene the Minister had preserved a noble and rather +indifferent manner, and he left the room while she was hesitating about +her ride. But oh, what a storm of slighted and disappointed love raged +within him! Through the busy streets, forlorn and utterly miserable, he +wandered slowly, careless of the crowd and the cold, and only thinking +of the pitiless strait he had been compelled to face. He knew no one in +London but Lady Cramer, and he felt as deserted and abandoned as a +wandering bird cast out of a nest.</p> + +<p>There is no waste land of the heart so dreary as that left by love which +has deserted us. This is the vacant place we water with the bitterest +tears, and, even in the cold, crowded London streets, his melancholy +eyes and miserable face attracted attention. Men who had trod the same +sorrowful road knew instinctively that some troubler of the other sex +had been the maker of it.</p> + +<p>He went back to his hotel and wondered what he should do with himself. +He had intended to spend the hours not spent with Lady Cramer in the +British Museum. He could not now do so. He preferred to sit still in his +room and try to discover the truth concerning the position in which he +so unexpectedly found himself. He had firmly believed in the love of +Lady Cramer, he had regarded her only one hour previously as his own, +and talked with her of their marriage. And she had apparently been as +happy as himself in that prospect.</p> + +<p>Yet the mere advent of Rotherham had changed her attitude, and he had +felt at once that his presence was an inconvenience. More than this, in +some way too subtle to analyze he had been intensely mortified by her +changed manner, and by her reference to Richard and Marion, as if their +love affair accounted for his presence in her household—the more so as +they had not spoken of the young people at all that morning. He did not +feel that it was at all necessary to invent an excuse for asking him to +dine with her.</p> + +<p>So it was in an intense sense of mortification that his wounded feelings +expressed themselves, and it was an entirely new experience to him. +Throughout all the years of his manhood he had been praised and honored, +served with the greatest consideration, and almost implicitly obeyed. He +had never been in any society he considered more noble or more +distinguished than his own. Yet undoubtedly Lady Cramer had been ashamed +of his presence. He recalled the expressions on her face, the tones of +real or pretended boredom in her voice, all the pretty coquetries of her +eyes and hands, and all her graceful efforts to bewitch the Duke, and +with a scornful laugh muttered, "She thought I did not understand her +double game. She thought me a fool, and made a plaything of my love." +And then he uttered some words which a minister should not use, and +which a woman does not care to write.</p> + +<p>Now, mortified feeling becomes hatred in passionate natures, and +ridicule or scorn in cold natures. It tended to hatred with Ian. He had +been so long accustomed to adulation and reverence that he could not +endure the memory of the covert slights he had felt compelled to ignore. +And it was not long ere he became furious at himself for not boldly +taking his position as Lady Cramer's future husband. He told himself +that, even if there had been a scene there and then, a man would have +been present, and to him he could have made explanations, but now what +could he do but suffer?</p> + +<p>For hours he tormented and humiliated himself with the certainty that +Lady Cramer was ashamed of condescending to his love, and that she had +represented their acquaintance as arising from a necessary interference +between her stepson and the minister's daughter. He knew exactly how she +would represent the subject; he could tell almost the words she would +use, and this mean, underhanded denial of himself hurt every nerve of +his consciousness like a physical wound. Indeed, the suffering was +greater, for a man may forgive a thrust from a sword, but a slap in the +face! No! And Lady Cramer's treatment of her betrothed lover had been a +decided slap in the face. He told himself passionately that he would +never forgive it.</p> + +<p>With this mortifying experience he sat until daylight waned, then he +went to the office and asked if there were any letters for him. There +was one from Marion, which he laid aside; there was none from Lady +Cramer. Then his aching disappointment revealed to him that, in spite of +his anger, he had been expecting a propitiating note, and perhaps a +renewal of her invitation to dinner. For in this early stage of his +wrath all his despairing thoughts were peopled with the phantoms of his +love and his desires.</p> + +<p>But there was no letter, and when he had dined alone he had arrived at +that point of impatience which can no longer be satisfied with hoping or +believing—he insisted on seeing. So he went to Lady Cramer's house and +found it in semidarkness; consequently she was out. The obliging porter +informed him, in return for a crown piece, that his lady had gone to the +theater with the Duke of Rotherham, and Ian quickly followed her there. +The play was in progress, but the man who had seated him previously came +smilingly to take his ticket.</p> + +<p>"Never mind the location," said Ian; "put me where I can see Lady Cramer +and not be seen."</p> + +<p>"A box on a higher tier would be the best."</p> + +<p>"Then take me there."</p> + +<p>"It will be five shillings more."</p> + +<p>"Here is a sovereign. Give me a good location and keep the change."</p> + +<p>He got all he desired, and for two hours fed the fire in his heart +through the sad, tearless avenues of his eyes. Only the Duke was with +her. He was in full dress, with all his ribboned orders on his breast; +she was robed in pale amber satin and glittering with diamonds. The +house was very full, the entertainment mirth-provoking, and there was a +great deal of sweet, sensuous music. He did not hear anything either +sung or spoken, for all his life was in his eyes, and what they saw +burned the word <i>unattainable</i> on all his hopes. He left the theater +before the performance was finished; he did not wish to meet his false +mistress until he was quite sure of his decision. When he thought he was +so he lifted his valise and packed it. He had resolved to see her once +more and then return to Glasgow. His manner was then haughty and quiet, +and his face looked as if carven out of steel, so cold and clear-cut +were its features, so hard and implacable the resolve written on them.</p> + +<p>In the morning he went to Lady Cramer's house, and was readily admitted. +She was rather glad of his visit, for she by no means realized her +offense nor her lover's indignation at it. Indeed, when he entered the +parlor she rose with a little cry of pleasure, and, with both hands +extended, hurried to meet him.</p> + +<p>"O Ian! Ian! How glad I am to see you!" she cried. "I have just written +to you—why did you not come again yesterday?"</p> + +<p>He had advanced to about the middle of the room, and he stood there, +stern and inflexible, until she was near to him. Then he raised his +hands, palms outward, and said: "Stand where you are, Ada. I do not wish +you to touch me. You are the most false of all women. I have come to +give you back your worthless promise. I do not value it any longer."</p> + +<p>"Ian! Ian! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that I know you are going to marry that old Duke—going to sell +yourself once more."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed," she answered, "if my marriage is a sale, I prefer to be +sold for a dukedom than a Free Kirk pulpit. And, if you have come here +to be insolent, understand that I do not care for anything you say."</p> + +<p>"Care a little for my farewell. I will never trouble you again. I give +you back your promise."</p> + +<p>"Thank you! If you had been brave enough to insist on my keeping it, I +might have done so. You are a very indifferent lover. Twice over Duke +Rotherham drove you away, just because he was a duke."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken. I set you free because you are utterly deceitful. I +hate deceit. I love you no longer."</p> + +<p>"You are deceiving yourself. You can never cease to love me."</p> + +<p>"I love you not. I have ceased already."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir, in the matter of love you leave off loving when you can, +not when you wish."</p> + +<p>"A burnt-out fire cannot be rekindled; you are dead to me."</p> + +<p>"I shall live in your memory."</p> + +<p>"I have buried you below memory, and, for the graves of the heart, there +is no resurrection."</p> + +<p>"Do not quarrel with me, Ian. I did love you! I did intend to marry +you!"</p> + +<p>"You are a beautiful woman, but you are only a face without a heart. It +would have been a good thing for you to have become my wife. I should +have taught you how to love."</p> + +<p>With a little mocking laugh she answered: "It might have been a good +thing to be your wife, but oh, what happiness it is not to be your wife! +You have much learning, sir, but you do not know the way to a woman's +heart." Then she slipped from her finger the ring he had given her and +let it fall to her feet.</p> + +<p>"I take back my promise, Ian. Take back your ring. Farewell!" and, with +head proudly lifted, she passed him. At the door she turned, and he was +just lifting the ring. "Ah!" she cried, "the diamonds are pure enough +for you to touch, I see," and with a contemptuous laugh she closed the +door behind her.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were tearless, and there was a dubious smile around her mouth, +but her heart grew so still she thought something must have died there. +"Farewell, Ian!" she whispered, as she sank wearily on her bed. +"Farewell! You wanted too much. You made the great blunder of +confounding love-making with love. You took every trifle too seriously. +I thought I loved you, but what is love? I might have married you, if I +had not wanted to be a duchess. You might have spoiled that dream, and I +am glad you are gone. <i>Hi! Ho!</i> I think I have managed very well."</p> + +<p>Really it was her gift of blindness to anyone's pleasure but her own +that at this time had kept her ignorant of danger until she had drifted +past it. If Ian had been more persistent, the end of the affair would +have been very different.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>WHEN WILL THE NIGHT BE PAST?</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alas! God Christ—along the weary lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What lone invisible Calvaries are set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What drooping brows with dews of anguish wet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What faint outspreading of unwilling hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound to a viewless cross with viewless bands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While at the darkest hour what ghosts are met<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ancient pain and bitter fond regret,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the new-risen spirit understands."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Doctor Macrae left London immediately after this interview, but he did +not at once return to Glasgow. He spent two days at Oxford and nearly a +week in the manufacturing towns of Yorkshire, the rest of his leisure in +the historic city of Newcastle. He was interested in what he saw, but +not comforted by it. For he was well aware that all his hopes had been +stripped to the nakedness of a dream. The week days trailed on the +ground and the Sabbaths made no effort to rise to the height of their +birth. For the spiritual center of his being had never yet been in touch +with the spiritual center in the universe, and all philosophies and all +creeds must come back to this sympathetic understanding between the +Comforter and the Comforted, or they come to nothing.</p> + +<p>Many years ago he had analyzed prayer by his creed, and felt that it had +nothing to do with troubles so personal and selfish as his love or his +hatred. For some wise purpose this discipline of wasted love had been +given him, and his duty was to bear his loss as manfully as he could. +There had once been a time when he would even have rejoiced to give up +any personal happiness if he thought that by doing so he was learning a +God-sent lesson. He could not do that now. He had been too long looking +<i>into</i> the Deity instead of looking <i>up</i> to Him. He had compelled +himself to question and to qualify until he knew not how to believe nor +yet what to believe. Poor soul! He thought prayer could be reasoned +about! Prayer, which is an unrevealed transaction, beyond the region of +the stars!</p> + +<p>At length, the time of his absence from duty being completed, he took a +train for Glasgow, arriving there early in the evening. It was raining +hard, it was dark, and the points of gas light only rendered the +darkness visible. The streets were crowded with men and women in +dripping coats, jostling each other with dripping umbrellas as they +hurried home after their day's work.</p> + +<p>In the quiet space of Bath Street the driver of his cab dropped his whip +and stopped in order to regain it; and in those moments Dr. Macrae +noticed a wretched looking man trying to get a few pennies by singing +"The Land of Our Birth." His voice was full of pain and tears, and +Macrae called him and put a shilling in his hand. The beggar's look of +amazement and gratitude was wonderful. He raised the coin as he took it, +and cried out, "<i>O God!</i>" and the look and the words fell on Macrae's +heart like a soft shower on a parched land. They called up one of those +tender smiles quite possible, and even natural, to his face, though far +too seldom seen there. In the light of this smile he reached his home, +and the next moment the door opened and Marion and Mrs. Caird stood +waiting with outstretched hands to greet him.</p> + +<p>He fell readily into their happy mood, and sat down between them to the +excellent tea waiting for him. And the blessing of the shilling was on +him, and he talked cheerfully of all that he had seen, but added as he +took his large easy-chair on the hearthrug,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"East or West, Home is Best."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Alas! this blessed mood did not last. In a few days he was again +brooding in a hell of his own making. He could not rest his heart on any +affection. Lady Cramer had deceived him, Donald had deserted him, Marion +was restlessly waiting for her lover's return. Then she also would go. +And Jessy Caird's heart was with Donald. He thought of these things +until he felt himself to be a very lonely, desolate man; for the heart +is like a vine, it withers and dies if it has nothing to embrace.</p> + +<p>In a deep and overwhelming sense he knew that to obey or to disobey duty +was to say "yes" or "no" to God, but what was his duty? He told himself +that if he could only see the way of duty clear he would take it, +however unpleasant or difficult it might be. Yes, he was sure of that. +But what was his duty? He tried to find out by every logical method +known to him, and every method pointed out some flaw in every other +method.</p> + +<p>One morning, at the end of January, Dr. Macrae received a batch of +London newspapers. They were brought to the breakfast table, and he +looked at their number and wondered. He did not seem to understand what +they portended, but Mrs. Caird did. Some womanly instinct told her what +information they brought, and when Macrae did not come to the dinner +table she said softly to Marion, "Lady Cramer is married. I wonder how +he will bear it."</p> + +<p>In the middle of the afternoon she took some coffee into the Minister's +study, and at his request sat down beside him. "Stay an hour with me, +Jessy," he said. "I am in trouble."</p> + +<p>"I know, Ian."</p> + +<p>"She is married."</p> + +<p>Jessy nodded slightly, and said: "I know. My dear Ian, you were but a +little child in the hands of Adalaide Cramer. Very likely she thought +she loved you."</p> + +<p>"I think she did love me."</p> + +<p>"Whom has she married?"</p> + +<p>"The Duke of Rotherham."</p> + +<p>"She had a great temptation, but no doubt she suffered in giving you up, +even for a dukedom."</p> + +<p>"She ought to suffer. I wish her to suffer."</p> + +<p>"Then you no longer love her?"</p> + +<p>"Loving is now out of the question, but I had, I thought, a great love +for her."</p> + +<p>"Had!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I loved Ada until she contemplated making me a partner with her in +the sin of deceiving the man who was then—almost—her husband. After +that I had no hesitation in resigning her. I would not remain in +London—she was very lovable—I might—I think not—but I might——"</p> + +<p>"You acted as an honorable man must have done. Danger is an unknown +quantity until you meet it face to face, and in this danger you were +like a swimmer that only tips the tangles and does not know the depth of +the water below them. I am glad you had the courage to leave her. Let +her be dismissed even from your thoughts."</p> + +<p>"How should I dare to think of her after those London papers? The +Decalogue and Christ's words concerning its seventh law still stand with +me as a finality. I no longer love her. I am not even angry with her. +She was just the reef on which my life went down. An hour ago I buried +her."</p> + +<p>"Your life has not gone down. It ought to be more rich and buoyant for +this very experience. It will be."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. Yet all life's pleasant things have suffered the same change +that Autumn works on the flowery braes of Spring, and I feel,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'My days are as the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swiftly my seasons pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like the flower of the field I fade.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Jessy waited a moment or two, and then replied, "I think, Ian, you might +be just and honorable to the poet. Why do you cut the verse in two? I +will give you the other three lines, as you seem to have forgotten them:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'O Soul, dost thou not see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Wise have likened thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the most living creature that is made?'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Living creature?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in the Spring does the grass tarry for any man's help? It comes up +without tool, or seed, or labor. In the garden, the field, the +roadside, it comes, fresh and strong and heavenly green. Its withered +blades have a new life. Likewise certain portions of our lives change or +pass away, but something better for our coming years is given us."</p> + +<p>"My dear Jessy, how good are your words. Is there any poetry you do not +know?"</p> + +<p>"Men and women who have souls meet each other in good poetry. I have met +many a sweet soul there."</p> + +<p>"I must tell you, Jessy, that it is not the <i>Duchess of Rotherham</i> but +the Church of the Disciples that is now troubling me. I dread every +Sabbath Day before me. I feel as if I could not—could not preach."</p> + +<p>"Do you think a woman's 'no' should change your life and your life's +work?"</p> + +<p>"It might do so."</p> + +<p>"It cannot. If there is no place open to a man but a pulpit, it is clear +God means him to preach—whether he wants to or not. I think little of +the men who are feared for the day they never saw. Bode good and you +will get good. That's a fact, Ian.</p> + +<p>"Jessy, I seem to have lost everything in one bad year—my love, my +children, my work, my friends. All are changed or gone. I feel poor. +Once I was rich, and knew it not."</p> + +<p>"You are not poor, Ian. The poor are those who have never lost anything. +You are not doing badly even now, and you are learning on very easy +terms the grand habit of doing without."</p> + +<p>"I am very miserable, Jessy, I know that."</p> + +<p>"You are deserving misery badly, or you would hardly punish yourself. +God is giving you blessings on every hand, and you do not even thank Him +for them."</p> + +<p>"Jessy Caird!"</p> + +<p>"I'm right, quite right. He took the great temptation of a heartless +beautiful woman out of your way. You could have thrown love and honor +and your very soul on that water, and got nothing back—through all the +years of your life—but sorrow and shame. Well, well, it is little +gratitude we give either God or angel for the <i>escapes</i> they help us to +make. How often have we been in the net of some adverse circumstances, +and suddenly and quietly the net is broken and we escape. Then we are as +likely to grumble as to rejoice."</p> + +<p>"If it wasn't for the preaching——"</p> + +<p>"Ay, it is always 'something' if it is not 'somebody' that is to blame. +Not ourselves, of course! What do you think of making the best of what +you have, Ian? There was a wonderful letter from Donald yesterday. Ask +Marion about it."</p> + +<p>"I will take a walk as far as the cathedral. There is a painted window +in the crypt that is always delightful to me."</p> + +<p>"A painted window?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—representing Christ as a youth reading the Book of the Law."</p> + +<p>"You are a queer man, Ian Macrae. Your ideal of Christ has a papistical +leaning."</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind, Jessy. Nothing!"</p> + +<p>"The Roman idea is to represent the Redeemer of the World just a baby in +the Virgin's arms, or he is the victim on the Cross, or the dead God +being prepared for burial. How many paintings do you know representing +Christ as the Lord of Life and Death—the co-equal of the God +Everlasting? Indeed, if you do happen to find a painting of Christ as a +man among men, he is sure to be the least handsome and godlike of all +those surrounding him. And you can find comfort in the figure of a boy +reading the Book of the Law!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know the window?"</p> + +<p>"I do. The last time I saw it, Donald was with me. He liked it well. +There was a long letter from Donald yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I will now dress and take a walk."</p> + +<p>"It is raining hard."</p> + +<p>"Then I will only go as far as Blackie's, and look over his new books. +That is always interesting."</p> + +<p>"Don't go out, Ian. Sit with Marion. She has a letter she wants to read +to you."</p> + +<p>"Jessy, I am seeking the Truth. The search impels me—I cannot rest—I +can do nothing else but seek it—not for my life!"</p> + +<p>"Do you expect to find it in Blackie's bookshop?"</p> + +<p>"I know not where to find it."</p> + +<p>"It is lying there—at your right hand."</p> + +<p>He glanced down at his right hand, and saw the familiar old Bible of his +college days. The place-keeping ribbon was lying outside its pages, and +he lifted the Book and replaced the ribbon; then, with a feeling of +sorrowful tenderness, laid it, on a shelf of his bookcase. "My father +put it in my hands the morning I went first to St. Andrews," he said +softly, and then turned to Jessy, but she had left the room.</p> + +<p>With a strange smile of satisfaction he touched the inner breast pocket +of his long black vest, for in that pocket there lay a letter from +Donald which was all his own. It had come to him by the same mail which +brought Marion's, but some curious Scotch twist in his nature prompted +him to conceal the fact. The root of this secrecy was undoubtedly +selfishness. He did not want anyone else to see, or touch, or handle +it—it was all his own, as long as it lay unspoken of in his breast +wallet. There were things in it he could not bear to discuss—things +that appeared to actually deny all the results he had declared would be +the natural and certain consequences of Donald's disobedience and +irreligious tendencies.</p> + +<p>So he kept the letter in his breast and said nothing about it, and he +went to Blackie's bookshop and brought home in his hand a volume by +Mills with which he passed the long evening. Now and then he vouchsafed +a few remarks on passing events, but upon the whole he had reason to +congratulate himself upon his reticence and its success.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, it had been less successful than he imagined, for, after +he had retired with Mr. Mills to the solitude of his study, Marion said, +with a sigh, "He never named Donald, Aunt;" and Mrs. Caird answered +sharply, "I am thinking, Marion, he knows all about Donald. He has had a +letter his own self. The man is far too curious to have kept whist if he +had not known what we were meaning by Donald's good fortune. No doubt +Donald wrote to him. I would hardly believe your father if he said +different."</p> + +<p>After this event the gloomy winter of snow and rain and thick fog +settled over the busy city, and people with firm-set lips and gloomy +faces went doggedly about their business and tried not to mind the +weather. But Dr. Macrae was acutely sensible to atmospheric conditions, +and the nearly constant gloom and drizzle was but the outward sign of +his mental and spiritual darkness and doubt. Day followed day in a +monotonous despairing search for what he could not find, and life lost +all its savor and searching all its hope and zest.</p> + +<p>Finally his health began to suffer. He found out what it meant to be +nervous and inadequate for duty. He became unreasonable or dourly +despondent, and every change was marked by moods and tempers that +affected the whole household. For the mind has malignant contagious +diseases, as well as the body, and the black silent sulk or the fretful +complaining in the study passed readily into every room of the gloomy +household.</p> + +<p>There are doubts that traverse the soul like a flash of lightning, +burning their way through it; there are others that come slowly, +insinuating themselves through a few careless words that somebody said +because they had a clever ring. Doubt came to Ian like a mailed warrior, +and met him, as <i>Apollyon</i> met <i>Christian</i>, with defiant words and +straddling all over the way. What if there was no God? he asked +boldly—if blind forces, beyond his comprehension, controlled the world? +If life was only a semblance and mankind dreamers in it? What if the +heavens were empty? If there was no one to answer prayer? If Christ had +never risen? If the Word of God was <i>not</i> the Word of God?</p> + +<p>Such questions are only of casual importance to the material man, but to +Ian they were the breath of his nostrils. He lived only to solve them, +and to pluck the Very Truth from the assertions and contradictions in +which it lay buried. By night and by day he was in the thick of this +storm, and was often so weary that he fell into long sleepy stupors. For +great griefs and anxieties have these respites from suffering, and it +was likely this very lethargy which overtook the Disciples in the +sorrowful Garden of Olives. And this spiritual warfare was not a thing +to be decided in a few days, or even weeks. Slowly, as the weary months +went on, it disintegrated the Higher Life, leaving the man acutely +intellectual, but without spiritual hope or comfort. It was mainly by +Mrs. Caird's pleadings and reasonings that he had even been kept at his +post in the Church of the Disciples.</p> + +<p>"What do you expect to gain by leaving your work, Ian?" she asked. "If +God should send a word to comfort you, it would doubtless come as it +came to the good men and prophets of old—when they were on the +threshing-floor, or among the flocks, or about their daily duties. You +can at least do as Dr. Scott does—keep faithfully your obligation to +the Presbytery, and, as a matter of professional honesty, preach good +Calvinistic sermons to those who desire them. It might be that while you +were helping and encouraging others the Divine Whisper would reach your +heart. At any rate, it is more likely to come to you in the stress and +duty of life than when you are thinking yourself into a stupor in that +haunted study of yours."</p> + +<p>"Haunted!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ian, haunted by doubts that gather strength by habit—and by +fears, that, like the needle, verge to the pole till they tremble and +tremble into certainty."</p> + +<p>And, though Ian had declared that he never could or would preach as a +mere professional duty, he found himself obliged to do so. It was +necessary to have a reason for his sermons, for without a reason he +could neither write nor preach them; and he found in the faithful +fulfillment of his ministerial vows the only substitute for that fervent +zeal which had once touched his lips as with a live coal from the altar.</p> + +<p>Indeed, many of the oldest sitters in the Church of the Disciples said +that he had never before preached such powerful and unanswerable +Calvinistic sermons—sermons that "crumpled up sinners spiritually" +until the business obligations of Monday morning restored their +elasticity. And though Mrs. Caird knew well that the passion and fiery +denunciation of these sermons came out of the misery and the +ill-conditioned temperament of the preacher, she approved his +eloquence. With a sort of satisfaction she said to herself, "If these +people like the God John Calvin made, I am glad that Ian shows Him to +them—'predestinating from all eternity, one part of mankind to +everlasting happiness and another to endless misery, and led to make +this distinction by no other motive than his own good pleasure and free +will.'"</p> + +<p>To Ian she said, "Your people can make no mistake about the kind of God +they have to meet, and I am glad that lately you have been bringing your +sermons to the counter and the hearthstone. You began your sermon +to-day, as I think Christ must often have done, '<i>What man among you</i>.' +Men like to be appealed to, even if they have to admit they are wrong."</p> + +<p>"I thought I might be too severe—when I consider it was a sinner +correcting sin. But, Jessy, it is such blind, weary work, preaching what +I do not believe."</p> + +<p>"You do believe it. You know well it is the only Scripture for the dour, +proud, self-reliant souls who have accepted it. I wonder, indeed, if +they would respect a God who forgave his enemies, and who thought rich +men would hardly win their way into the kingdom of heaven. As for hell, +it is the necessary place for all who do not think as they do, or who in +any other way offend them."</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh, that I knew where to find him!</i>" cried Ian, and the passionate +sorrow and entreaty in the lifted eyes and hands filled Mrs. Caird with +a great pity, and she answered softly:</p> + +<p>"When you seek for God with all your heart and with all your soul, Ian, +you will find him."</p> + +<p>"Do I not seek for Him with all my heart? I do! I do!"</p> + +<p>Thus, in constantly soothing and strengthening the unhappy man, the +weary months passed slowly away. And during them Ian was deteriorating +both spiritually and physically, so much so that Mrs. Caird began to +wonder if he ought not to be relieved from the strain of living so +difficult a double life. Was there any necessity which would justify it?</p> + +<p>"And he ought to be so happy," she said one day to herself, with a sob +of something between anger and pity, "he ought to be constantly thanking +God about his children, and he can think of nothing but what he himself +wants, and that want a spiritual gift that few obtain. If he cannot +believe Christ and the multitudes who have done so and found it +sufficient, in whom, then, can he believe? There will be no special +dispensation for Ian Macrae, and he need not be looking for it."</p> + +<p>This fretful soliloquy took place nearly two years after the coming of +those miserable books of Lord Cramer's into Dr. Macrae's life. He read +others constantly which he hoped would nullify their power, but every +fresh scientific or theological writer had only made his doubts and +perplexities more and more confused and distressing; and it seemed at +last, even to Jessy Caird, that he ought to be released from playing a +part, which, however much good it did to others, was killing in its +personal effects.</p> + +<p>It was at this crisis he was walking one lovely Spring morning up +Buchanan Street, and met Major Macrae. They clasped hands with an +understanding smile, and the Major said, "I want an hour's talk with +you, Ian. It is important. Come home with me." So they went together to +Blytheswood Square, and into the little office at the back of the house, +and the Major said:</p> + +<p>"Ian, I am ready to recall Lord Cramer, and you will be glad to know +that his estate is now money-making and in good condition; and, as my +application for unlimited parole is not likely to be refused, there is +no reason for delaying my niece's marriage."</p> + +<p>"You must have great power with the War Office?"</p> + +<p>"I am the power behind the power. Also, it is the desire of the +Government that all noblemen should be on their estates. I have no doubt +Lord Cramer will receive what he desires."</p> + +<p>"He owed a large sum of money. Have you performed a miracle?"</p> + +<p>"No. I have only made available a much larger sum. Many years ago, while +riding with the late Lord, I noticed a peculiar appearance of the sea +among the little bays that wash the northern part of the estate. I +thought to myself, 'There is an oyster bed there,' but I said nothing, +for the late Lord was only too speculative, and I needed all his money +and all his interest at that time to get the property out of trouble. +When Lord Richard was in the same trouble I remembered my suspicions, +and sent half a dozen old oyster fishers to examine the situation. They +found immense beds of oysters, and now there is an oyster fishery +village there, and just one mile of railroad connects it with the line +to Edinburgh. And, man! there's your market all waiting and ready. There +never was such wonderful luck!"</p> + +<p>"But the village and the necessary materials, the boats and cottages, +the railroad and other requirements, must have cost a lot of money."</p> + +<p>"To be sure they have. I have put a lot into the development myself. Why +not? It will pay splendidly. Your future son-in-law will not only have a +steady flow of gold from his oyster beds, they will also supply him with +something to do and to look after. I have thought of that. I know it is +good for men to come constantly in contact with facts. It helps them to +keep their moral health. Tell Marion her lover may be home in three +months, and I hope, Ian, you will no longer oppose their marriage."</p> + +<p>"Marion can marry when she is twenty-one. Not until."</p> + +<p>"You cannot prevent the young from marrying. They will do it. Donald +tells me he is to be married on the fifth of December. I suppose you +know whom to?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about Donald, excepting that on the steamer to New York +he met a Scotchman called Macbeth, and that somehow they struck up a +friendship, and Donald was going with him to a place called Los Angeles. +He appears to be much older than Donald. I do not understand such +friendships, and, as I did not answer Donald's letter, he did not write +again—and I have heard nothing further."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you further, though you are not deserving the news—the why +and wherefore of the friendship between Donald and Mr. Macbeth was, +first of all, that they both played the violin and both loved it, and on +the voyage they turned the smoking-room into a concert room, for the +Captain played likewise, and he brought his violin there when he could. +The second thing was that everyone—men and women—were loving Donald, +and when they reached New York Macbeth would not part with the lad, and +they went together to Los Angeles, and then to his handsome home a few +miles from the city. There he had great vineyards and farms of figs and +lemons, and wonderful peaches and pears, and Donald has taken gladly and +happily to helping him in the making of wines and raisins and the drying +of fruit. The work is all out of doors in a climate like Paradise. In +the evenings they play their violins and sing Scotch songs, and are as +near heaven as they can be on earth."</p> + +<p>"You can't sing Scotch songs anywhere but in Scotland. They won't bear +transplanting any better than bell-heather. Fancy bell-heather in a +London park!"</p> + +<p>"Scotchmen are singing them all over <i>this</i> world, and, for all I know, +all over <i>other</i> worlds; but we are getting away from our subject, which +was my nephew, Donald Macrae. This Mr. Macbeth has a daughter, a +beautiful girl, not eighteen until the fifth of December. Then he will +give her to Donald with half a million dollars, which Donald will invest +in Macbeth's business, and so become his partner. The girl is lovely as +an angel. I have a picture of her. Do you want to see it?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"And she has a beautiful name, and I'll just put it into your memory, +Ian. She is called Mercedes."</p> + +<p>"Spanish! Is she a Spaniard?"</p> + +<p>"Her mother was a California Spaniard of old and wealthy lineage."</p> + +<p>"A Roman Catholic, doubtless."</p> + +<p>"Of course. That goes without saying. It does not matter if she loves +God."</p> + +<p>"It matters anyway and everyway. It takes all the good out of the +circumstance. The girl was the devil's bait for the poor lad's soul."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Ian! One creed is as good as another. Creeds, indeed! +Religion has nothing to do with such outside details. God save us! What +kind of a head must a man have who could think so? I can tell you, Ian, +the belief in any creed stands in these days on the edge of a razor."</p> + +<p>"Then what have we left?"</p> + +<p>"We have Faith, man. Faith goes below creeds, straight to the +impassioned human hopes out of which creeds have grown. Faith in +spiritual matters is just what courage is in material life. <i>My word, +Ian!</i> if you had only Faith, you would see some good in every creed."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, all creeds claim to come from the Bible."</p> + +<p>"There is no such thing as a creed or a system of Divinity in the +Book—nothing in it but human relations touched by the Spirit of God."</p> + +<p>"I am glad, however, to hear of Donald's good fortune."</p> + +<p>"It is wonderful. Every good gift of life put into his hand unsought. A +beautiful and wealthy wife, who loved him from the moment they met, and +a father-in-law who treats him already as a dearly beloved son."</p> + +<p>"Donald is not his son, however, and never can be. I am forever and ever +Donald Macrae's father."</p> + +<p>"A splendid home, a large and prosperous business, and the finest +climate outside of the Kingdom of Heaven. It is like a fairy tale," +continued the Major enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>Ian smiled, and said slowly, as if he could hardly remember the words he +wished to say, "You are right,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'It sounds like stories from the Land of Spirits,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If any one attain the thing he merits,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or any merit that which he obtains.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I am glad to have heard such a romance."</p> + +<p>"Marion, or Mrs. Caird, could have told it to you, chapter by chapter, +as it was making."</p> + +<p>"And with what advices and entreaties!"</p> + +<p>"Words only. I never mind words. Ian, you are looking ill. What is the +matter with you? Is it the loss of that woman?"</p> + +<p>"The Duchess of Rotherham? No. I never allow myself to think of her. It +is a loss so transcendantly greater that there is not speech to define +the distance. <i>I have lost God!</i>" and he looked up with a face of such +desperate sorrow and patience as infected the heart of the older man +with uncontrollable pity.</p> + +<p>"O Ian! Ian!" he answered in a low, intense voice, "you cannot lose God, +and, if you could, He cannot lose you."</p> + +<p>"My father's brother!<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> I have lost God, and the Devil——"</p> + +<p>"Stop now. I disclaim for you and for myself all interest in the devil. +I deny him! I deny him! <i>Ach!</i> I will not talk of him. If there be a +devil, he can talk for himself."</p> + +<p>"My God has left me. I know not where to find Him. I watch the day and +the night through for a whisper or a sign from Him. 'As the hart panteth +after the water brook, so panteth my soul for the living God.' To all my +pleading He is deaf and dumb. My heart would break, but He has made it +so hard that sometimes I can only pray for tears, lest I die of my +soul's thirst."</p> + +<p>"But this is dreadful, Ian, dreadful! Dear me! Dear me! What can I do?"</p> + +<p>"What do you do when, through faults all your own, you have lost the +sense of God's loving presence?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you truly, Ian. I write down all my sins and shortcomings, +and then, kneeling humbly at His feet, I acknowledge them, and ask for +pardon. I wait a moment or two, and then I mark them out with the sign +of the [symbol: cross]. It cancels all, and generally I can feel this. +If I do not feel it, I know something is wrong, and the confession is to +make over again. It seems a childish thing for a man of sixty years old +to rely on, Ian, but it has kept me at His Pierced Feet all my life +long. If I had been a Roman Catholic—as the Macraes once all of them +were—I should have gone to my confessor and had the priest's +absolution; and I suppose it is some ancient feeling after the need and +the comfort of confession. For I have 'confessed' in this way ever since +I was a little lad, and I shall do so as long as I live. I have never +told anyone but you of my simple, solemn rite; but it is a very solemn +thing to me, however simple. Yes, it is. I speak the truth."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. It is sacred and secret with me. Tell me now what would you +do if you had to carry the burden Bunyan makes poor Christian carry +through the Slough of Despond every Sabbath. It is my unspeakable burden +to be compelled to preach. While I am preaching to others I am asking my +soul, 'Art thou not thyself become a castaway?' Life is too hard to +bear."</p> + +<p>"Yet it was small help or comfort you gave your congregation last +Sabbath."</p> + +<p>"I did not see you in Church."</p> + +<p>"I was there. It is indeed a very rare circumstance, but I was there, +and I heard you tell your hearers that, bad as this life was, the next +life would be much worse unless they lived a kind of righteousness +impossible to them. Why do people listen to such words? Why do you say +them? How do you dare to represent God as ordaining all things, yet +angry with the actions of the creatures whom He has created to disobey +His orders? And, since a man must sin by the very necessity of his +nature, why is he guilty of his sins? How can people bear such sermons?"</p> + +<p>"They do not feel them. No one takes them as for themselves. The +majority give all menaces to their neighbors. A great many do not +believe such doctrine any more than you do."</p> + +<p>"Then why do they go and hear it?"</p> + +<p>"Because in Glasgow, Uncle, the respectable element compel the scornful +to sit in the seat of the righteous. It is fashionable to go to church, +and the strictest sect is the most fashionable. Anything like +Armenianism or Methodism is democratic, and suitable only for the lower +classes—it is too emotional, and brings religion down to Ohs! and Ahs! +and to feelings that compel expression. There are various other reasons +not worth mentioning."</p> + +<p>"And you are permitting this false preaching of a false doctrine to kill +you?"</p> + +<p>"My trouble is far greater. Is there a God at all?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Ian, such a question as that never darkened any man's life who did +not go out of his way to seek it. Why did you meddle with those cloudy +German philosophies? Like Satan, they are one everlasting <i>No</i>! How +could you be influenced by them? I defy any metaphysician to argue me +out of the testimony of my soul and my senses. It is not the 'No!' but +the victorious 'Yes!' that life demands."</p> + +<p>Then Ian made some explanations, but without success. The Major laughed +scornfully at the names of his misleaders, and said, "I know all about +them that I want to know. I could not sleep if their books were under my +roof. <i>Imphm!</i>" he added with ejaculatory disdain. "You call their +ravings scientific religion and religious philosophy. <i>Rubbish</i>, +<i>rubbish</i> is the exact term for them."</p> + +<p>"They have been widely read, sir."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! The Scotch mind is far too logical to grasp an existence that +is non-existent; it sees no reality in what never happened, and you +cannot make it believe that 'Being and not Being' are identical facts. +It leaves all such ideas to those who live in that land</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Where Hegel found out, to his profit and fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Something and Nothing were one and the same.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>These two lines of a great critic were all I needed. I laughed heartily, +and sent all the philosophies I had to the Clyde. Sandy, who threw them +into it, said they went straight to the bottom. Ian, you are wandering +in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Are you quite alone? Have you lost +the Great Companion?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then trust to the Man within you. No one can lose his soul who risks it +with his Higher Self. He will lead you to the One mighty to save. And go +and do your daily duty as you see it, and I am led to believe you will +require to begin in the house on Bath Street. <i>Dod, Man!</i> I'm sorry for +the two poor women who have to live with you. You must be a very +uncomfortable, unsocial fellow to eat and to bide with."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so, Uncle. When I cannot eat it is kind to keep away from +the table; when I am unable to converse about the trivial things of +this life it is best for me to be silent. A man as full of sorrow as I +am——"</p> + +<p>"Fills the whole house with his worry and lamenting. Go home, and eat +with the two women you are treating so badly, and talk with them about +the people and the things that they love and care for. That you <i>can</i> +do, and that you <i>must</i> do."</p> + +<p>"They love and care for me."</p> + +<p>"I'm bound to say you don't deserve it, and that's a fact. Talk to them +of Donald and Lord Cramer, and talk hopefully and pleasantly. They will +be so grateful to you and so kind in return."</p> + +<p>"They are always kind to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, well! They just show that the grace of God and two women can live +with a man that no one else could live with. I met Marion last week in +the Arcade, and the little girl was miserable. She said you had scarcely +spoken a word for three days. It is not right. Go home and talk to +them."</p> + +<p>"How can I talk what seems foolishness to me?"</p> + +<p>"Try it. Foolishness has often turned out to be wisdom. There is what +Paul calls 'the foolishness of preaching.' What are you going to do +about that subject?"</p> + +<p>"What would you do, Uncle?"</p> + +<p>"I would preach the Truth, as I saw it and felt it, or—I would not +preach it at all."</p> + +<p>"Jessy Caird thinks that, until Marion is married, everything should +remain as it is. Then! Then I will seek God until I find Him, or die +seeking."</p> + +<p>"Just so! I have noticed that few things give a man more satisfaction +than a resolve to do better at some future time. As for Marion's +marriage, I can't see what influence your preaching or not preaching can +have on that circumstance. She will not be married in the Church of the +Disciples, and of course you cannot marry her."</p> + +<p>"Marion will be married in my church and I shall marry her. It will be a +great trial, but I shall not shirk it."</p> + +<p>"Lord Cramer will insist on being married in St. Mary's Church, and by +the Episcopal ritual. You would not be permitted to perform any service +in St. Mary's unless you had taken Episcopal orders."</p> + +<p>"Then we can have a private marriage."</p> + +<p>"We can do nothing of the kind. Do you think that I will consent to my +niece being married in a mouse hole? The Bishop is going to marry her, +and it is to be a very grand affair. I have influence to bring to the +ceremony most of our neighboring nobility, and the military friends of +Lord Cramer will be there in force, and their splendid uniforms will +make a fine effect. It is the first wedding I have ever had anything to +do with. You were married in a little Border village, and none of your +kin there;—father and mother and your wife, all gone!" and the Major +looked into the far horizon, as if he must see beyond it, while Ian +stood still and white at his side. Not a word was spoken. For a few +minutes both men surrendered themselves to Memory's divinest anguish. +Then the elder returned to their conversation and said—though in a much +more subdued manner:</p> + +<p>"Tell Marion to choose her six bride'smaids and give them beautiful +wedding garments; tell her all I have said, and try to take some +interest in the matter. Do, my dear lad, for no man will ever win Heaven +by making his earthly home a hell. Be sure and tell Marion that Lord +Cramer will be here in three months, and give her a big check to prepare +for his coming."</p> + +<p>"I promise to tell Marion. I will be as good as my word."</p> + +<p>"Just so. But this is a forgetful world, so I'll remind you of your +promise once more—and there is the girl's little fortune."</p> + +<p>"It is ready for her as soon as she is married. I have not touched a +penny of it. It is intact, principal and interest, and, by a little +careful investment, much increased."</p> + +<p>"You are a good man—a generous man."</p> + +<p>"No, no, Uncle. It was just pride, nothing better. She is <i>my</i> child. I +preferred to take care of her myself—with my own money."</p> + +<p>Then they talked over the amounts to be spent on the marriage, on dress, +visitors, the ceremony and traveling expense, and when some decision had +been reached the Major was weary. He sighed heavily, and advised Ian to +go home and try to be of a kinder and more familiar spirit. "And tell +Marion," he said, "Lord Cramer will be in Glasgow in three or four +months, and she must have all her 'braws' ready, for he will not hear +tell of waiting—no, not for a day."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>A DREAM</h3> + +<blockquote><p>For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in +the midst of her swift course.... Then suddenly visions of +horrible dreams troubled them sore, and terrors came upon them +unlooked for.—<span class="smcap">Wisdom of Solomon</span>, 18: 14: 17.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dreams are rudiments of the great state to come.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>For nearly two weeks after the Minister's talk with his uncle something +of the old cheerfulness and peace returned to the house on Bath Street. +To Marion her father was exceedingly kind and generous, and the girl was +radiantly happy in his love and in the many beautiful gifts by which he +proved it. But "the good and the not so good," which is, to some extent, +the inheritance of us all, gave him no rest, though for some days he was +able partially to control the strife. He had been too intense a believer +to stand still and say nothing about his doubts; and when a Scotchman +has cast off Calvin, and been unable to accept Kant, he is not an +agreeable man in domestic life. He was morbid, but he was not insincere, +and he was really desperate concerning the salvation of his own soul. +So the busy gladness of Mrs. Caird about the wedding preparations and +the joyous voice and radiant face of Marion, as the stream of love was +bearing her gently to the Happy Isles, rasped and irritated him. He was +beginning to feel that he had done enough—to wonder if he could not go +away until the marriage was an accomplished fact. Everything about it, +as far as he was concerned, had undergone the earth and been touched by +disappointment; and nothing had brought him back the calm peace, the +sweet content, the abiding strength that his old trust in the God of His +Fathers had always given. The cynicism of lost faith infected his +nature. He was even less courteous to all persons than he had ever been +before. The man was deteriorating on every side.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, the regrets! the struggles and the failings!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the days desolate! the wasted years!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>To such mournful refrains he walked, hour after hour, the crowded +streets and the narrow spaces of his own rooms; for he felt, even as St. +Paul did, that, if all this great scheme of Christianity were not true, +then its preachers were of all men most miserable. Generally speaking, +poor Burns' prayer that we might see ourselves as others see us is +surely an injudicious one, but if the Minister could have been favored +with one day's observation of Ian Macrae, as he really appeared to his +family, it might at least have given him food for reflection.</p> + +<p>After a day of great depression, partly due to the marriage preparations +and gloomy atmospheric conditions, but mainly, no doubt, to his wretched +spiritual state, he went one evening to a session at the Church of the +Disciples. He wondered at himself for going and his elders and deacons +wondered at his presence. He was lost in thought, took no interest in +the financial report of the treasurer, and left the meeting before it +closed.</p> + +<p>"The Minister was not heeding whether the Church was in good financial +standing or not," said Deacon Crawford, "and I never saw such a look on +any man's face. It comes back, and back, into my mind."</p> + +<p>"Ay," answered another deacon, "and did you notice his brows? They were +sorely vexed and troubled. And the eyes that had to live under them! +They gave you a heartache if he but cast them on you."</p> + +<p>"We'll be having a great sermon come the Sabbath Day, no doubt," said +the leading Elder; "and, the finances being in such good shape, what +think you if we give the Minister's daughter a handsome bridal gift?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't an ordinary thing to do, Elder."</p> + +<p>"The Minister is getting a very good salary."</p> + +<p>"He is an uncommonly proud man, too."</p> + +<p>"And his daughter is marrying a lord."</p> + +<p>"Well," answered the proposer of the gift, "there's plenty of time to +think the matter over," and all readily agreed to this wise delay.</p> + +<p>Though the Minister had left the session early, it was late when he +reached home, weary and hungry, and glad of Mrs. Caird's kind words and +plate of cold beef and bread.</p> + +<p>"Where on earth have you been, Ian?" she asked. "Do you know it is past +eleven?"</p> + +<p>"I have been going up and down and to and fro in the city, watching the +unceasing march of the armies of labor. The crowd never rested. When the +day workers stopped the night workers began—weary, joyless men. It was +awful, Jessy."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Mrs. Caird, "it is</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'All Life moving to one measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daily bread! Daily bread!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bread of Life, and bread of Labor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bread of bitterness and sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand to mouth, and no to-morrow.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Good night, Ian. Go to sleep as soon as you can."</p> + +<p>How soon he kept this promise he never could remember; he only knew that +when he awakened he was drenched with the sweat of terror and trembling +from head to feet. "Who am I? Where am I?" he asked, as he fumbled with +the Venetian blind until it somehow went up and let in the early +dawning. Then he noticed the dripping condition of his night clothing, +and he hurried to his bed and cried out in a low, shocked voice, "<i>The +sheets are wet! The pillow is wet!</i> What can it mean? What has happened? +<i>Oh, I remember!</i>" And he covered his face with his hands and his very +soul shuddered within him.</p> + +<p>Then his wet clothing shocked and frightened him, and he began to remove +it with palpitating haste, muttering fearfully as he redressed himself: +"How I must have suffered! Great God, the physical melts away at the +touch of the Spiritual! Oh, I wish Jessy would come! Why is she so late? +When I do not want her she is here half an hour before this time." The +next moment she tapped at his door and called,</p> + +<p>"Ian."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come in, Jessy. Come in! I want you! I want you!"</p> + +<p>"Breakfast is waiting."</p> + +<p>"Let it wait. Come in. I want you to tell me the truth, the plain, sure +truth about what I am going to ask you."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Ian?"</p> + +<p>"Jessy, did you ever know me to dream?"</p> + +<p>"Never. You have always declared that you could not understand what +Marion and I meant by dreaming."</p> + +<p>"Well, I had a dream this morning, and, though it seemed very short, I +felt when I awoke from it as if I had been in hell all the night long."</p> + +<p>"What did you dream?"</p> + +<p>"I was in the vestry of the Church of the Disciples, putting on my +vestments. I knew that the church was crowded, and I looked at myself +and was proud of my appearance. Then I was walking up the aisle very +slowly. Step by step I mounted the pulpit stairs, and stood facing the +largest congregation I had ever seen. And the light was just like the +light when there is an eclipse of the sun—an unearthly, solemn +obscurity, frightful and mysterious. I stood in my place and surveyed +the congregation. It filled the church, but the furthest points of +distance appeared to be nearly in the dark. I could see forms and +movements there, but nothing distinct. I looked at this gathering for a +moment, and then laid my hand upon the Bible, and, with my eyes still +upon the people, I opened it—Jessy!"</p> + +<p>"O man! Speak!"</p> + +<p>"There was nothing there."</p> + +<p>"Nothing there! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Every page was blank—only white paper—not a word of any kind——"</p> + +<p>"Ian Macrae!"</p> + +<p>"I looked for my text. It was gone. I turned the pages with trembling +hands, but neither in the Old nor the New Testament was there a word. +And I cried out in my anguish, and looked at the wordless Bible till I +felt as if body and soul were parting. God, how I suffered! Earth has no +suffering to compare with it."</p> + +<p>"Then, Ian?"</p> + +<p>"Then I looked up at the congregation, and was going to tell them the +Bible had faded away, but I saw the people were a moving dark mass, in a +rapidly vanishing light; and I tried to find the pulpit stairs, but +could not, for I was in black darkness. And I was not alone; to the +right and the left there were movements and whispers and a sense of +<i>Presence</i> about me. Powers unutterable and unseen that must have come +out of inevitable hell. The whole earth appeared to be awake and aware, +and <i>the Name</i>, <i>the Name</i> I wanted to call upon I could not remember. +The effort to do so was a tasting of death."</p> + +<p>He covered his face and was silent, and Mrs. Caird took his cold hand +and said softly, "O Lord, Thou Lover of souls! Thou sparest all, for +they are Thine."</p> + +<p>"At last <i>the Name</i> came into my heart, Jessy, and though I but +whispered the Word, its power filled the whole place, and the Evil Ones +were overcome—not with strength nor force of celestial arms, but with +that <i>One Word</i> they were driven away; and I awakened and it was just +daylight, and I was so wet with the sweat of terror that I might have +been in the Clyde all night. Was this a dream, Jessy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?"</p> + +<p>"You know best. A God-sent dream brings its meaning with it. It is not a +dream unless it does so. You know, Ian. Why ask me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know."</p> + +<p>About this experience Mrs. Caird would not converse, for she was not +willing to talk away the influence of Ian's spiritual visitation. She +was quite sure that he understood the message sent him, and equally sure +that he would implicitly obey it. So she left him alone, though she +heard him destroying papers all day long. The next day being Saturday, +he was very quiet, and she told herself he was preparing his sermon, and +then with a trembling heart she began to speculate as to its burden. She +feared that in some way his dream would come into relation or comment, +and she could not bear the idea of such a public confidence.</p> + +<p>She was still more uneasy when on Sunday morning he said in his most +positive manner, "Jessy, I wish you and Marion to remain at home to-day. +A little later you will understand my desire."</p> + +<p>"As you wish, Ian. We shall both be glad of a quiet rest day. I hope you +know what you are going to do, Ian. Our life is a spectacle—a tragedy +to both men and angels—bad angels as well as good ones. Don't forget +that, Ian."</p> + +<p>"I shall not forget, and I know what I am going to do."</p> + +<p>She looked at him anxiously, but had never seen him more decided and +purposeful. He was also dressed with extreme care, and, though in +ecclesiastical costume, was so singularly like his uncle that Mrs. Caird +involuntarily thought, "How soldierly he carries himself! What a fighter +he would have been! But he is some way quite different—not like the old +Ian at all."</p> + +<p>Yes, he was different, for on the soul's shoreless ocean the tides only +heave and swell when they are penetrated by the Powers of the World to +Come. And Dr. Macrae was still under the emotions of his first +experience of that kind. He was prescient and restless. For, though the +outward man appeared the same, the archway inside was uplifted and +widened, and Dr. Macrae had risen to its requirements. He was ready to +fight for his soul. Yes, with his life in his hand, to fight for its +salvation. What would it profit him if he gained the whole world and +lost his soul?</p> + +<p>Frequently he assured himself that he did not now regard the Bible as +divinely inspired, yet he was constantly deciding this or that question +by its decrees. So quite naturally he followed this tremendous inquiry +of Christ's by those two passionate invocations of David, "Cast me not +away from Thy Presence. Take not Thy Holy Spirit from me." To be cast +out of God's Presence. To be sent into the Outer Darkness, full of the +Evil Ones! "O Jessy!" he cried, "such a doom would turn a living man +into clay!"</p> + +<p>It was of this awful possibility he was thinking as he walked to the +Church of the Disciples. Two or three of the deacons were standing in +the vestibule, and they looked at him and then at each other with a +pleased expression.</p> + +<p>"We rejoice to see you, sir, looking so well," said one. "The church is +full, sir, and, if our clock is correct, there is but five minutes to +service time."</p> + +<p>He had five minutes yet, in the which he could draw back or postpone his +intention—or—or—then his dream came to his remembrance, and he put +all hesitation out of the question. With a thoughtful gravity he walked +down the aisle, ascended the pulpit stairs, and stood in his place +before the people. And they watched him with a sigh of content and +pleasure. They had often seen in his eyes that far-away gaze of one who +looks past the visible and sees time and eternity as the old prophets +saw them.</p> + +<p>They expected from this sign a sermon which would take them for an hour +"to the Land which is very far off."</p> + +<p>He stood silently facing his congregation, for even at this last minute +there came to his soul a doubtful whisper, "The position is yet yours. +You can delay any explanation a week—or even two. You had better do +so." He trembled under the strain of this instant decision. But the +whole congregation were rustling their hymn books and the precentor was +taking his desk. Then in a dear, vibrant voice he said:</p> + +<p>"We shall sing no hymn this morning. We shall make no prayer. I am here +to bid you farewell. You will see my face no more."</p> + +<p>There was an indescribable movement throughout the building, but nothing +articulate, and he quietly continued: "I have ceased to believe in the +divinity and the inspiration of the Bible. It is not any longer to me +the Word of God. It has nothing to say to me, either of Time or +Eternity. Its pages are blank. I might have gone away from you without +any explanation. I was tempted to do so, but we have been twenty years +together, and I desired to give you my last words." There was no +response from the cold, voiceless crowd, but he felt their antagonism to +be more palpable than that of either scornful looks or reproachful +words. With eloquent anger he described the cynical complaisance with +which the very existence of God and the inspiration of the Bible were +now challenged and discussed. "There is boundless danger in all such +discussions," he cried. "As long as we are loving and simple-minded we +judge the Bible by the heart and not by the intellect. And of such are +the Kingdom of Heaven." Then, as he spoke, the <i>Word</i> became <i>Flesh</i> and +prevailed like a message from another world. Many were the hard words he +gave them, and, if he had never before spoken the whole truth, he did so +at this last hour—not of any settled purpose—but because it was the +last hour, and he wanted them to see through his sight "the dead, small +and great, standing before God for the judgment to come."</p> + +<p>At this point the church was no longer either cold or voiceless, it felt +rather as if it were on fire. The people trembled and prayed and wept as +he spoke, and Ian Macrae was a man they had never before seen. His tall, +grave figure radiated a kind of awe, his voice rang out like a command. +The keen spiritual life within lit up his pale, striking face, and in +his eyes there was a strange glory—they shone like windows in a setting +sun.</p> + +<p>The intensity of feeling had been so great that there was in about +fifteen minutes an inevitable pause. Then he looked round, and +continued:</p> + +<p>"Listen to me a few moments, while I illustrate what I have said by my +own experience. A few months ago the Bible lay in every fold of my +consciousness. Now it has nothing to say to me, and it is impossible to +describe the loneliness and grief that fills my empty heart. For the God +of my Bible has left me. All my life I had trusted to whatever God said +in His Word. God had said it, and I knew that God would keep His Word. +Then I was tempted by the devil—no, by the gift of one thousand pounds, +to examine my Father's Word—to prove, and to test, and to try it, by +the suppositions and ideas of some small German, French, English—and +Scotch, so-called philosophers. And I was too small for the intellectual +dragon I went out to slay. All of them wounded me in some way, and my +God left me. I deserved it. I have lost my place among the sons of God. +With my own hand I crossed out my name from the list of those who serve +His altar. In the honored halls of St. Andrews they will think it kind +to forget Ian Macrae.</p> + +<p>"I am now bidding farewell—bidding farewell forever—to you, and not +only to you, but to all the innocent pleasures and happy labors of the +past. For me there is no birthday of Christ—no farewell supper in the +upper chamber—no flowery Easter morning. I dare not even think of that +sacred ghost story in the garden, for, if the stone was not rolled away +from the grave of Christ, it lies on every grave that has been dug since +the creation. And if there is no resurrection of the body—there is no +Life Eternal—<i>there is no God</i>!"</p> + +<p>His voice had sunk at the last few words, but it was poignantly audible. +A long, shuddering wail filled the church, and the women's cries and the +men's mutterings and movements were sharply distinct. Then the Senior +Elder looked expressively at the precentor, and he instantly raised the +hymn known to every church-going Scot:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O God of Bethel, by whose hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy people still are fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who through this weary wilderness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hast all our fathers led."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The first line was lifted heartily by the congregation; they evidently +felt it to be a proclamation of their Faith, but the melody quickly +began to scatter and cease, and before the first four lines were sung it +had practically ceased. Everyone, with movements of shock or sorrow, was +watching the Minister, who was slowly removing from his shoulders the +vestment of his office. In a few moments he had laid it slowly and +carefully over the front of the pulpit. Then he turned to the stairs, +and he remembered his dream and was afraid of them. What if there should +be only <i>one</i> step to the floor below? The descent seemed steep and +dark. He kept his hand on the railing of the balusters, and the cries of +hysterical women and movements and mutterings of angry men filled his +ears. It was growing dark. He felt that he was losing consciousness. +Then a large, strong hand was stretched up to him, and, grasping it +gratefully, he reached the ground in safety. And when he looked into his +helper's face he said with wonder, "Uncle! You?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus4" id="illus4"></a> +<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"The descent seemed steep and dark"</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"Just me, laddie. Keep your heart and head up. Come what will, you've +done what's right. Put your arm through mine. We will take this walk +together."</p> + +<p>So arm in arm down the long aisle they went, and the Major said +afterward, "It was a worse walk than any down a red lane on a +battlefield." The women mostly covered their faces and wept. Many of the +men were standing up, angry and offensive in word and manner, but sure +that their attitude was well pleasing to God and to the Kirk He loved. +The Major's carriage was standing at the curbstone, and, without delay, +yet also without hurry, they took it and went together to Dr. Macrae's +home. Being Sunday morning, the streets were nearly empty, and the +drive, as became the day, was slow and silent. But Ian's hand was +clasped in his uncle's hand, and words were not necessary.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Caird was at the open door to meet them. "I heard the clatter of +the Major's horses; they clatter louder than any other in Glasgow—but +what are you here for? Who's preaching this morning? Ian, are you ill? +Major, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Wait a while, my dear lady. Ian wishes to be alone, and I am going to +take lunch with you. Then I will tell you all that Ian has done. I am +going to give to-morrow to Ian and his affairs, so he will not require +to worry himself either about the Kirk or the market place."</p> + +<p>"I wish I had been present," answered Mrs. Caird. "I wish I had! I think +I also would have had a few words to say—or at least a few questions to +ask."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand Ian taking such a noticeable farewell. It would +have been more like him to have said nothing to anyone, just resigned +without reason or right about it. But doubtless he had a reason."</p> + +<p>"He had. Two nights ago he had a dream."</p> + +<p>"Never! Ian never dreams."</p> + +<p>"He dreamt last Friday morning just at or before the streak of dawn. +Listen!"</p> + +<p>Then in an awed and whispering voice she related Ian's dream. The Major, +who was naturally a psychic man and a great dreamer, listened with +intense interest, but did not at once make any comment. After a short +reflection, however, he answered with an air of complacent gratitude:</p> + +<p>"God's dealings with the Macraes have ever been close and personal. +Plenty of preachers are no doubt preaching this day what they do not +believe, but they have not been shown and warned like Ian. I think his +dream was a great honor and favor."</p> + +<p>"You Macraes have a wonderful way of appropriating God. I dare say a +great many ministers have been warned and advised as well as Ian."</p> + +<p>"No, Jessy, they have not. If they had been warned as Ian was warned, +they would have done exactly as Ian has done. Dreams are strange things. +You cannot help noticing them—you cannot help being led by them. I +wonder why."</p> + +<p>"Because dreams belong to the Spiritual World, and humanity has an +instinctive belief in this Spiritual World. You do not have to teach men +and women to dream. A true dreamer has the gift in childhood as +perfectly as in old age. There is no age, no race, no class, no +circumstances free from dreams. God is everywhere and knows everything, +and He speaks to His children in dreams and by the oracles that lurk in +darkness."</p> + +<p>"In my own life, Mrs. Caird, they have often read the future. How do +they do it?"</p> + +<p>"How can we tell what subtle lines are between Spirit and Spirit? A +century ago nobody knew how messages could be sent through the air—sent +all over the world. We had not then discovered the medium nor the +method. In another century—or less—we may discover the medium and +method of communication between this world and the other."</p> + +<p>"Do you think some houses are more easily visited by dreams than +others?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and for many reasons, but they cannot be prevented from entering +any place to which they are sent. I was not a week at Cramer before I +was aware</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">'of Dreams upon the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And visions passing up the shadowy stair and through the vacant hall.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I am glad you told me of Ian's dream. I understand him better now."</p> + +<p>"And like him better?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I have always loved Ian above all others."</p> + +<p>"Then be patient with him now. It is hard for mortals to live when their +moments are filled with eternity."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>LOVE IS THE FULFILLING OF THE LAW</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then, as the veil is rent in twain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From unremembered places where they lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead thoughts, dead words arise and live again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clouded eyes can see, the lips can pray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A purer light dawns on the night of pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, on the morrow, 'tis the Sabbath day."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The love of God, which passeth all understanding.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>For a few days Dr. Macrae was seen frequently about the streets of +Glasgow. Some bowed to him, some passed by on the other side. He was +also generally accompanied by Major Macrae or by a certain well-known +lawyer, neither of them men partial to greetings in the market place or +conversations at the street corners. So in a manner he was protected by +his companions and his preoccupation. In his home all knew that he was +going away, but no one named the circumstance to him. It was not an easy +thing to talk to Macrae on subjects he did not wish named.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it was four days after his public resignation from the ministry +before the Church of the Disciples ventured to make any movement +signifying their acceptance of his withdrawal. Then a little company of +church officials called on him to exchange some necessary papers and pay +the salary which was due. Thomas Reid's name was among those of the +visitors, and for a moment Ian resolved not to meet them. But it was +Jessy Caird who brought him their request, and she looked so +persuasively at Ian that he answered:</p> + +<p>"Very well, Jessy, if you think so, send them in here."</p> + +<p>When the little band entered his study his heart melted at the sight of +these old associates of his dead life. They had honored and loved him +for many years, and his miserable state was not their fault. Only Elder +Reid had ever offended, and he had always regretted the trouble and been +glad when it was removed. So Ian looked at them with his heart in his +eyes, and they looked at him and could not utter a word.</p> + +<p>For this man was not their long-beloved Minister. He was even outwardly +so changed they could not for a few moments accept him. That very day +Ian had taken off his "blacks" forever. The long black broadcloth coat +and vest and the snow-white band around his throat had been replaced by +a very handsome suit of dark tweed, such as they were themselves +wearing. And this change in his dress—so totally unexpected—moved +them beyond all reason. They looked at him in silence, and their hearts +and eyes were full of unshed tears.</p> + +<p>They had seated themselves on the long sofa, and Macrae rose and went to +them: "You have come to bid me farewell," he said, "and I am glad to see +you—you have been brothers to me—it breaks my heart to part with +you—and all you represent—but I must go. I know not where—nor yet +what may befall me, but if I die I shall die seeking the God I have +loved—and—lost."</p> + +<p>As he spoke he advanced to the man nearest him and held out his hand, +and it was taken with great apparent love and emotion. An older man bent +his head over it—was it not the kindly, gracious hand that had so often +broken to him the Bread of Life? Thomas Reid was the last of the +company. He looked into Macrae's face with brimming eyes, and when he +took Ian's offered hand a great tear dropped upon the clasping fingers. +Both men saw it, and Macrae said with a sad smile:</p> + +<p>"That washes all unkindness out, Elder," and with sobbing words Reid +answered: "It does, sir. It does. O Minister, is it not possible for you +to unsay the words you said last Sabbath Day?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"The Lord is merciful to His elect."</p> + +<p>"I have denied the Lord, and He has forsaken me."</p> + +<p>"He cannot forsake those whom He has chosen. You have lived a good +life."</p> + +<p>"I have not. I have run after strange gods. I have looked His Word in +the face and disobeyed it. I have put scientific and philosophical +religion in the place of Christ's religion, and my Bible, once full of +comfort, has nothing to say to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, sir, you know who is the mediator between God and man."</p> + +<p>"Elder, if there is a God, I want to find Him."</p> + +<p>"Then seek Him, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am seeking Him as those who seek for life and life eternal. Through +the world I will seek Him. To the last breath of this life I will call +upon—perhaps—if there is a God—He may hear me."</p> + +<p>Blind with feeling, the men went away so quietly that Mrs. Caird threw +down her work and said impatiently: "There! He has sent them off without +a word. How could he do it? Oh, but Scots are hard-baked men. Even those +proud English would have had a 'God speed' to bless the parting, and +I——"</p> + +<p>Then Ian entered, and he said cheerfully: "We had a pleasant parting, +Jessy. I am glad of it. I would have been sorry to have missed it."</p> + +<p>"What did you say to them?"</p> + +<p>"What I said last Sabbath—that I was going to seek Him whom my soul +loveth, even if I died in the search."</p> + +<p>"There is no 'if' in such a search. God is not a 'highly probable' God. +He is a fact. He is nearer to you than breathing, closer than hands and +feet. Even a pagan knew that much, Ian; all that is wanted is to become +conscious of the <i>nearness of God</i>, and to seek God with all your heart +and all your soul, and you will find Him. Not perhaps! You <i>will</i> find +Him." And Ian was silent and troubled, and went away.</p> + +<p>Then Jessy took her knitting again, and, as she lifted the dropped +stitches, said slowly and sorrowfully: "Ah me! How many half-saved souls +must come back again to learn the lesson they should have learned in +this life. God may well be merciful to sinners, for they know not what +they do."</p> + +<p>On Saturday morning he went very quietly away. He had done all that +could be done for the happiness of his family, and the situation had +been tranquilly accepted by them. There was no haste, no irritating +questions or advices, and, as soon as he was out of sight, everyone went +back to the work occupying them. Yet the man they had watched away was +near and dear to them, and full of a sorrow so great they hardly +understood it.</p> + +<p>He was bound for the Shetlands, because he believed he would find in +their simple Kirks the height, and depth, and purity of Calvinism. But +he found nothing peculiar to these strong, silent fishers. They had +generally an inflexible faith in their own election, and in the ordering +of their lives by a God who knew "neither variableness nor shadow of +turning." They went fearlessly out on any sea a boat could live in, +because, if it was not their appointed hour of death, "water could not +drown them"; and in all other matters they approved of John Calvin's +plan of sin and retribution, and stuck to it like grim death.</p> + +<p>Yet he spent the whole summer in Shetland, and winter was threatening to +shut in the lonely islands when he saw one morning an unusual craft +fighting her way into harbor. She was a strong, handsome boat, a perfect +model of what a fine fishing-smack should be, and she was flying a blue +ribbon from her masthead. Evidently she was one of the mission ships +serving the Deep-Sea Fishermen. Ian was instantly much interested, and +soon fell into conversation with one of her surgeons, who took him on +board and who talked to him all day of this great floating city of the +fishing fleets—a city whose streets were made of tossing ships—a city +without a woman in it—a city whose strange, winding lanes of +habitations ceaselessly wander over the lonely, stormy miles of the +black North Sea—a city even then of more than forty thousand +inhabitants.</p> + +<p>"And what of the men in this floating city?" asked Ian.</p> + +<p>"They are men indeed! Speaking physically, they are the flower of our +race. They have muscles like steel, their eyes are steady, their feet +sure. The sight of the work they do strikes terror in the heart of one +not used to it. When the call comes for the great net to be hauled they +hurry, half-asleep, on deck, very often to face a roaring icy wind, +lashing sleet or blinding snow. They tramp round the capstan and tug and +strain with dogged persistence until the huge beam of the trawl comes +up. Then, often in the dark, they grope about till they mechanically +coil the nets and begin the gruesome work of sorting and packing fish, +with but fitful gleams of light."</p> + +<p>"What a dreadful life!" exclaimed Ian.</p> + +<p>"And when the haul is over there is no bath, no change of clothes, no +warmth for the men. They plunge into their reeking dog-hole of a cabin, +and in their sodden clothes sleep until the next call sends them on deck +with their clothes steaming.</p> + +<p>"But you see, sir," he continued, "we are beginning to send mission +ships and hospital ships among the fleets, and the men do not have—when +they break or fracture a limb, or in other ways injure themselves—to +be tossed from ship to ship until, perhaps after three or four days, +they come to a place where they can be attended to."</p> + +<p>"And are you improving these conditions in every way?" asked Ian.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, very rapidly."</p> + +<p>"I should like to go with you."</p> + +<p>"No. You would soon be wretched. You could not bear to see the smacksmen +at their work. It makes me shiver to think of it. Two days ago I +attended to a man who had shattered three fingers and divided a tendon, +and who was working out his time in pain that would have been unbearable +to me or to you. Our hospital ships, when we have builded plenty of +them, will alter such things. But, sir, if you do not want to die of +heartache, keep out of the Deep-Sea Fishing Fleet. No weakling could +stand it—he could not live a month in it."</p> + +<p>Ian, however, could not be discouraged. He remained anxious to see the +fleet fisheries at close quarters, and when a boat, urged by four strong +rowers, came that afternoon for the surgeon, Ian pleaded to accompany +him. "I can help you, Doctor," he said. "I know a little about surgery." +So Ian prevailed, and in a few minutes was with the surgeon on his way +to the injured man. They found him lying in a lump on the deck, under +his head a coil of ropes. The skipper stood at his side, making no +pretense to hide his grief. "It's Adam Bork, Doctor," he said, "the best +sailor in the fleet, <i>my old mate</i>. Doctor, do something for him."</p> + +<p>The Doctor looked at the man, then at the skipper. "There is not a +hope," he answered. "He is dying now."</p> + +<p>The man heard and understood, he looked at the skipper and the skipper +bent to his face. Something was asked, something was promised, and the +two men, with one long farewell look, parted forever.</p> + +<p>The Doctor soon found other patients, and he told Ian to watch by the +dying sailor and to give him spoonsful of cold water as long as he could +take them.</p> + +<p>"Is that all that can be done?" inquired Ian.</p> + +<p>"I will ask him," and he said, "Adam, you are in mortal pain—the pains +of death—shall I give you something to ease them?"</p> + +<p>"What can you give me?"</p> + +<p>"Laudanum."</p> + +<p>"No. I won't go to God drunk."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Bork. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>About dawning the dying man looked at Ian with such a piteous +entreaty in his pale blue eyes that Ian felt he must, if possible, +grant whatever he desired. Very slowly and distinctly he asked, +"What—do—you—want—me—to—do?" and the answer came, as if from +another world, muffled and far off, but thrilled with such an agonizing +intensity that it struck Ian as if it was a physical blow,</p> + +<p>"<i>Pray for me!</i>"</p> + +<p>Ian knelt down. He tried to pray, but he could not. With almost +superhuman efforts he tried to pray, not for himself, but for this poor +sailor sinking and dying in that dark place, struggling, forsaken, +alone, but he could not. Again the dying man whispered, "<i>Pray!</i>" and +his eyes were full of reproach, and the look in them almost broke Ian's +heart. The next moment he was gone.</p> + +<p>It was against all Ian's spiritual feelings to pray for the dead, but in +after years he prayed often and sincerely, "for the repose of the soul +of Adam Bork." And why not? God was still in His Universe, Adam was +therefore somewhere in God's presence. It may even be that prayer +prevails there more easily than here. Creeds may say what they like, the +heart of humanity prays for its beloved dead as naturally as it prays +for its beloved absent.</p> + +<p>As soon as possible Ian was put on shore, and a week afterward he found +himself in his uncle's home. He had gone first to Bath Street, but the +house there was closed and empty. There were placards in the windows +offering it for sale or rent, and the windows themselves, always so +spotless, were now black with smoke and dust. It was a cold day and had +a sharp promise of winter in its flurries of north wind and little +showers of icy rain with them. All was desolation. Ian's first thoughts +were of an angry, injured nature. The empty house told its own story. +Marion was married, Donald in California, and Jessy had doubtless +returned to her own home in the Border country. "No one cared about him, +etc.," and when people get into this selfish mood they never ask +themselves whether they are reasoning on just or unjust premises.</p> + +<p>So Ian went to Blytheswood Square, and found his uncle cheerfully eating +a good dinner. He was delighted at his nephew's return. "Laddie! +Laddie!" he cried joyfully, "you are a sight to cure sore eyes. I was +just thinking of you; when did you touch Glasgow?"</p> + +<p>"An hour ago. I went to Bath Street, and found the house empty."</p> + +<p>"Just so. All gone to bonnier and better homes. At least they think so, +and we must even bear the same hope. Where have you been?"</p> + +<p>"In the Shetlands. I found nothing to help me there. The last week I +spent with the North Sea Fishing Fleet."</p> + +<p>"Did you? I am delighted. That is where all my spare cash goes. That is +the reason I do not give Elder Reid a big sum for his Foreign Mission +Fund. I do not like Hindoos and Chinamen, and they have a religion of +their own quite good enough for them. But oh! Ian, those big, brave +fellows, working like giants and suffering beyond ease or help, they are +our kin—leal, brave Scots, who would die for Scotland's right, or +Scotland's faith, any hour it was necessary. It was only yesterday Reid +stopped me on the street and asked me for a subscription for the Chinese +Missions."</p> + +<p>"What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I did not heed him. I buttoned up my coat and set my eyes far off to +the river side."</p> + +<p>"You did right."</p> + +<p>"It stands to reason that Scotchmen ought to look after their own +first."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I am quite forgotten. I have had no letters. I do not know +whether anything has happened or not."</p> + +<p>"You left no address. You wrote to no one. Yes, to me you sent one +letter, full to its edges with uncertainties. You must remember Marion +is married and greatly taken up with her husband. You never answered +Donald's letter, and the lad, of course, takes it for granted that his +silence was what you wished. Ian, you have tried wandering, and there is +no peace or profit in it. Now, then, if you cannot pray, you can work; +if you can't love God, you can love your fellow creatures. Dr. James +Lindsey was here last week, and I spoke to him about you. When you were +a stripling you were all for surgery, and Dr. James thinks you will yet +make a fine surgeon. You are to live with him, and he was delighted at +the very thought of your company. It is the great opportunity left you, +and I hope you see all its possibilities and will accept them."</p> + +<p>Ian was satisfied at the prospect. It was quite true that even in +boyhood he had had a craving for the surgical profession, and the +arrangements made for him by the two elder gentlemen were so homely and +generous, and so full of kind consideration, that he was greatly moved +by their unselfishness. In a few days he went to London, and was met at +the train by Dr. Lindsey. Ian was not ignorant of him. He had seen him +at his uncle's house several times, and he knew that the Major and Dr. +James had been friends since ever they were barefooted laddies, fishing +in the mountain streams together.</p> + +<p>Neither was Lindsey ignorant of Ian. He had heard him preach, and he +knew something of the soul struggle through which he was passing. +Indeed, he had his own plans for relieving this spiritual misery, and, +as soon, therefore, as Ian reached London, he found all his days filled +with study and labor. But his surroundings were homelike and pleasant, +and the men were intellectually well matched.</p> + +<p>Now, the road downward is easy and rapidly taken, and Ian had managed +to slip from the pinnacle of ministerial fame into silence and +forgetfulness in about one year, but it took him a ten years' climb to +win his way to about the same pitch of public favor in his new vocation. +But of this ten years I shall have little to say. The road upward is a +climb to the very top, and all men find it so, but Ian enjoyed the study +and the practical work of his profession and became extraordinarily +skillful in it.</p> + +<p>Their lives were by no means dull or monotonous. Truly the day was given +up to business, but they usually dined together at seven, and afterward +went to the opera or theater, or perhaps to a reception at some house +where they were familiar and honored guests. Or, if they wished to stay +at their own fireside, they were the best of good company for each +other. Nothing that touched man's soul or body came amiss for their +discussion, and if Ian was the more widely and generally educated, Dr. +Lindsey had the keener spiritual instinct, and his soul often ventured +where Ian's followed only with flagging and uncertain wings. In the +summer they made short trips to the Continent or they went to Glasgow, +and, being joined there by the Major, sailed north to the Macrae +country, and then home by Cromarty and Fife.</p> + +<p>When Ian had been in London ten years Dr. Lindsey began to talk of a +rather longer holiday than usual. "But first," he added, "here is a +letter from Squire Airey, and he wants either you or me to run up to +Airey Hall to examine his fractured arm. It is all right, I know, but he +is frightened and impatient, and you might go as far as Furness and make +him comfortable."</p> + +<p>"I should like to go. I have long wanted to see Windermere, and I could +return that way."</p> + +<p>With his patient at Airey Hall Ian stayed two days, and on the third +morning the Squire said: "Doctor, I will give you a good mount, and you +can ride as far as Ambleside. You will go through a lovely land. Leave +the horse at the Salutation Inn in Ambleside when you take the train. I +will send a groom for it."</p> + +<p>So Ian took the Squire's offer, for it was a lovely day in August, and +everything seemed to shimmer and glow through a soft golden haze. The +tender, peaceful scenes on all sides induced in him a little mood of +pathos or regret. He could not help it. He had no particular reason for +it; he appeared, indeed, to be in a very enviable condition. He was yet +exceedingly handsome, for it takes a Scotchman fifty years to clothe his +big frame, to round off the corners and soften the large features, and +to make out of a gigantic block of bone and sinew a handsome, finely +modeled man. He had, as far as business went, made himself twice over. +He was the welcome friend and guest of the greatest scientists and +physicians, and his short visits to the most exclusive drawing-rooms +were regarded as great favors. Was he not happy, then? No. Regret, like +a slant shadow, darkened all his sunshine, and the want of personal love +left his life poor and thin on its most vital side.</p> + +<p>Nor could he ever forget that solemnly joyful night following the day of +his admission to the ministry. Like the knights of old, he had spent the +midnight hours in the dark, still Kirk of Macrae, and the promises he +then made and the secret, sacred joys of his espousal to the Holy +Office, had been graven on his memory by a pen which no eraser can +touch. Whenever he was long alone this memory shone out in every detail, +and he said once, in a passion of anger at himself: "If I had been a +soldier of the Queen, they would have drummed me out of the ranks. I +would have deserved it—yes, I would!"</p> + +<p>This morning the unwelcome memory returned and returned, and, in order +to be rid of it, he began to pity himself for the loneliness of his life +and the misfortune which had attended all his affections.</p> + +<p>"There was old Lord Cramer, his apparent kindness was all a plot to get +a little posthumous fame out of my intellect. His one thousand pounds +was a miserable price for the work he proposed for me, and he tried to +pass it off as a kindness. I hate the man, and I hate myself for being +fooled by him. Lady Cramer—nay, I will let her go—another has judged +her now. Donald, whom I idolized, nearly broke my heart, gave a son's +love to a stranger, married a Spaniard and a Roman Catholic, and has not +noticed me for years. I dare say Donald and that Scotchman have had many +a laugh over my leaving the ministry. Jessy went to them, and she could +tell them every circumstance of the event. And, though Marion writes +whiles, and has called her son after me, I never see her unless she +happens to be at Uncle Hector's when I go to see him. And, of course, I +cannot call at Lord Cramer's house, not even to see my daughter. Was any +man ever so undeservedly deserted as I am?"</p> + +<p>He was slowly passing through a little village as he troubled his heart +with these thoughts. And, as he looked at the small dark cottages +wanting the usual gardens of flowers, he said to himself, "It is a +mining village; there must be many of them in this locality;" and so was +returning to his unprofitable musing when a tremendous explosion +occurred, and the women from every cottage ran crying to the pit mouth. +Ian also hastened there, and, when he said he was a physician, was taken +down in the first cage. It stopped at an upper gallery and the men ran +backward into the mine. Ian thought he had suddenly awakened from life +and found himself in hell. He heard only cries and groans and shouts, +and the running of men and their frantic calling of names. And he was +spellbound at the first moment by the sight of a boy about nine years +old, lying in a narrow cut of the coal, with a great block of coal +across his body. His father stood beside him, his face full of +unspeakable love and pity, for the mute anguish of the child was +terrible. But, ere he could speak to them, there was a frenzied rush of +men crying, "Fire! Fire! After-damp!" For just one minute they stood at +the cut where the child lay, and called, "For God's sake, Davie, come, +come, come!" and Davie shook his head slightly, and answered,</p> + +<p>"<i>Nay, I'll stay with the lad.</i>"</p> + +<p>And when Ian heard these words, they smote him like a sword, and he +cried out: "<i>I have seen God's love!</i> This hour <i>I have seen God's +love</i>—like as a father pitieth his children—even unto death—so God +pities and loves. My God, love me! Teach me how to love! I am thy +faithless son, Ian; forgive me and love me!"</p> + +<p>He was in an ecstasy, and, even as he prayed, a still, small voice ran, +like a swift arrow of flame, through all the black galleries of the +mine—a voice like the noise of many waters, but sweet as the music of +heaven, and it spoke but one word:</p> + +<p>"<i>Ian!</i>"</p> + +<p>Through all that earthly hell, filled with death and horror of +suffering, above the crying of the men, above the screams of the +wounded, the voices of fear and agony, this wonderful voice passed +along, swift as the lightning, yet full of the divinest melody.</p> + +<p>These events so marvelous to Ian had not occupied more than a moment or +two of time. Then there was another rush of men with the assurance that +it would be the last. They swept Ian with them, but Davie, still +standing by his child, just shook his head and repeated his decision, +"<i>Nay, I'll stay with the lad</i>"; and the crowd, with fire behind them, +struggled to the cage and were drawn up to the sunshine.</p> + +<p>At the pit mouth Ian met the rescue company of the pit and the +physicians, and he untied his horse and rode away into the woods and +hills. He was weeping unconsciously, washing every word he uttered with +tears of repentance and love.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is wonderful!" he cried. "<i>Wonderful! Wonderful!</i> Out of all the +millions of men in this world, <i>God knew my name</i>. He knew <i>where I +was</i>. He <i>called me by my name</i>. Oh, miracle of love!"</p> + +<p>All the way to Ambleside he rode slowly. He was in a transport of love +and joy—had he not been veritably taken by God's love "out of hell"? He +was thrilled with wonder, and he would make no haste. He bent his soul +to the heavenly influences which had made the last few hours forever +memorable. So his prayers grew sweeter and calmer. They had in them the +voices of the night wind, the awe of the stars, and the rustle of unseen +wings. And, just as he was entering Ambleside, his Bible took part in +his happiness and whispered to his heart a verse he had read hundreds of +times, but which at this hour seemed to have been written specially for +him.</p> + +<p>"Fear thou not. I have redeemed thee. I have called thee by thy name. +Thou art mine."—Isaiah 43:1.</p> + +<p>He knew then what he was to do.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>AFTERWARD</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Christ is God's realized idea of perfected humanity."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Think, when our Soul understands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Great Word which makes all things new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When earth breaks up and heaven expands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How will the change strike me and you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the house not made with hands?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Pouring Heaven into this shut House of Life!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>According to a literary scripture, my story should end here. I have +satisfied my proposition—the man who lost God has found Him; therefore, +to say more is to pass my climax and break a very prominent canon of +criticism. But I am sure that there are many who have followed the +struggle of Ian Macrae into the Second Birth who will desire to know +what the New Man did with his New Life; and I think it better to grant a +good wish than to keep a literary law.</p> + +<p>In that blessed night, full of the presence of God, which Ian had spent +on the hills surrounding Ambleside, he had looked steadily and hopefully +into the future, and clearly understood what he must do. So he never +thought of returning to London, but early in the morning took a train to +Glasgow. In the place where he had doubted and denied God he must show +Him forth publicly as the Father and Lover of Souls, the God gracious +and long-suffering, full of mercy and truth. He was anxiously longing to +begin this work; he grudged the hours in which he had to be silent, and +was full of a buoyant joyfulness so sincere and so radiant that people +looked into his face and involuntarily smiled.</p> + +<p>He reached Glasgow before the noon hour, and as soon as he was inside +his uncle's house he called him in resounding tones, full of eager, +wistful excitement. And the Major, who was in his private office, +recognized the voice and went hastily to meet his nephew.</p> + +<p>"Why, Ian, Ian! What is the matter?" he cried. "Whatever has come to +you? You look—you speak like a different man!"</p> + +<p>"Uncle! <i>Brother of my father!</i> I have found what I lost! I have found +Him whom my soul loveth!" Then they sat down, and Ian related the +wonderful story of the last wonderful twenty-four hours; and the old man +listened with a joy past utterance. His face radiated wonder and love, +his blue eyes shone through reverential tears, unconsciously his head +and hands were uplifted, and his lips whispered the prayer of +thanksgiving that was in his heart.</p> + +<p>"It is a heavenly story, Ian," he said, "and the greatest wonder is +this—though numberless souls have such experiences, every one has its +own solemnly distinct personality. And their number never makes them +common. They are always wonderful. They are never doubted, and they +never fail. But, Ian, no one that has been 'called by name' can ever +forget the voice that called him; it haunts and hallows life +forevermore. Now, then, what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to preach the Love of God!—the patient, everlasting Love of +God! O Uncle, can I ever forget the love in that father's face as he +stood waiting to die with his child? I was not told, I did not read of +it, I <i>saw</i> the love of God in that father's face, and knew in that +moment how God so loved the world that He gave His Son for its +salvation. Now, through all the days of my life, I am going to preach +the Love of God."</p> + +<p>"That is right. You shall have a church here—in Glasgow."</p> + +<p>"Somewhere among the teeming habitations of the poor."</p> + +<p>"No. The rich need the gospel you have to preach more than the poor do. +We will build among the terraced crescents, where the rich dwell. And +we will build of good gray granite, and finish it with the best of +everything—and the pulpit will be yours."</p> + +<p>"Dear Uncle, no pulpit! I could not go into one again. I have two +memories of a pulpit. I wish to forget them. But there is something we +have not spoken of that I desire greatly to have in connection with my +church. I mean a dispensary. Christ healed the body as well as the soul; +for it is not a soul, nor is it a body we wish to train upward—it is a +<i>Man</i>, and we ought not to divide them."</p> + +<p>So they talked over the dispensary with perfect accord, all the time the +table was being laid for dinner and the meal eaten. Nothing interfered +with this interest. It was quite a fresh one to the Major, and he was +greatly delighted with the idea. Indeed, it was the old soldier who +first proposed a small surgery connected with the dispensary. "When I +was at the wars," he said, "I saw many a poor man suffering for want of +the knife and a bandage. We must have a little surgery, Ian." And Ian +joyfully acceded to the proposition.</p> + +<p>"It will be a big increase in your work, Ian, but——"</p> + +<p>"O Uncle, I am here to work—not to study and dream. I must work, I must +preach; I must help the sick and sorrowful. How soon can the church be +ready?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know exactly, but we will build the surgery and dispensary as +soon as we have got the proper location. They will give you many good +opportunities while the church is building. And I hope you have not +forgotten duties kin and kindred to yourself. They cannot be overlooked, +Ian."</p> + +<p>"I will overlook none of them, Uncle. I have been a great sinner in this +respect."</p> + +<p>"For instance, Marion has never weaned herself from you. She talks of +you constantly when she comes here, and we have had some tearful hours +about your silence and neglect."</p> + +<p>"I will atone for them as soon as may be. I have often been sorry that I +did not stay and see her marriage."</p> + +<p>"It was a grand affair. Nothing like it was ever seen in Glasgow before +or since. There were the Bishop and two clergymen to perform the +ceremony and a notable company to see that it was properly done. Among +this company were three officers from the Household troop, and, if I had +the words, I would tell you about their splendid uniforms and stars and +ribbons of honor. And there was Lochiel, in full Highland costume, +looking more like some old god than a man—and McAllister and McLeod and +Moray, and half a dozen more in all their varieties of kilts and plaids +and philabegs; velvet vests and gold buttons, and eagle feathers in +their Glengary caps. They were a splendid and picturesque background for +the lovely bride, clothed in white from head to foot and looking like an +angel. McAllister had sent a basket of white heather for bridal +bouquets, and every Highlander there wore a spray of it in his vest or +cap. I had a stem or two at my own breast—and Marion's veil was crowned +with a wreath of the lovely flowers."</p> + +<p>"After the marriage, where did they go?"</p> + +<p>"First of all, they came here, to my house—and we had a bridal +breakfast that none will forget. Lord Glasgow toasted the bride, and the +Provost of the City made answer for her. His speech was well enough, but +a little o'er long—considering the occasion."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"They went to all the capital cities of Europe. It was a wonderful +honeymoon trip. They might have been royalties themselves, they were +that nobly entertained. Well, well! Marion Macrae was a bonnie bride, +and she is far bonnier and better now than she was then—the best of +mothers, the best of wives, a noble woman every way. She has a son +called 'Ian,' after you, and two little girls who wear the names of +Agnes and Jessy—you know——"</p> + +<p>"Yes—I know. How could I ever forget?"</p> + +<p>"And there is poor Donald. You are not to slight Donald. You will write +to him, Ian?"</p> + +<p>"I will <i>go</i> to him. I can never be quite satisfied until I have seen +Donald. I was cruel and selfish then, but I loved him. I love him now +better than ever. He sits in the center of my heart. I must go as soon +as may be to California."</p> + +<p>"You are right. We will buy our land and make our estimates, and set the +men to work. Then you can go and kiss your banished son."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I cannot bring him home again."</p> + +<p>"Would you think of suchlike foolishness? God gave him his wife and his +portion out there. But I will tell you what you can do—you can bring +home Mrs. Caird. In her last letter to Marion she said she was weary of +golden oranges and perpetual sunshine; and she hoped God would let her +come hame to her ain countrie before she died. She was fairly sick for +the gray skies and green braes of Scotland, and, as for the rain, it was +only gloom upon gleam, and gleam upon gloom—very comfortable weather +upon the whole. I was sorry for the pleasant little woman. You can bring +her back. See that you do so. For I am counting on you living with me, +Ian. Why should we part? I am growing old, and need your love and +company; and I want to be your right hand in the Godlike work before +you."</p> + +<p>"My dear Uncle, you shall have all your will. I desire nothing better +than to share your love and your home, and have your constant counsel +and help."</p> + +<p>"Then bring back Mrs. Caird. She will send away all the wasteful, lazy, +dirty men bodies round the house, and hire in their place tidy, busy +young lasses. Then, Ian, I can have a dream of a home for my old age. No +matter what her 'will and want,' give her everything she asks—only +bring her back."</p> + +<p>"I will do so, Uncle—if possible."</p> + +<p>"Possible or not—bring her back."</p> + +<p>There was no pause in their conversation until the long summer twilight +filled the quiet square. Then they suddenly remembered Doctor James +Lindsey and the London duties that might be hard to relinquish, and thus +delay the work which they so eagerly willed to do. So Ian spent the +evening in writing to his friend, while the Major lost himself the while +in financial calculations about the great project.</p> + +<p>Ian had not one doubt of his friend's sympathy. "I know James Lindsey, +Uncle," he said with an air of happy confidence; "he will count God's +claim long before his own. And he will see at once that I have been +unconsciously preparing myself for the great work we are planning for +eleven years; and, though I have been led by a way I knew not, every +step has been taken right."</p> + +<p>Then the Major looked into his happy face and said solemnly: "Ian, if +you <i>saw</i> the love of God shining on that father's face in the awful +pit, I see it just as plainly on your countenance. It has absolutely +changed it. Your voice is also different, and your words go singing +through my soul. You are a new man. You are a happy man, and I used to +think that, of all men, you were the most miserable."</p> + +<p>"Uncle, I might well be miserable. The phantoms that peopled +my nights must have destroyed life if God had not forbidden +it—remorse that came too late—cries uttered to inexorable +silence—doubt—anguish—prostration worse than death. I was afraid to +look back, equally afraid to look forward; and then last night changed +all in the twinkling of an eye. I fell at the feet of the Father of +Spirits with a joy past utterance. Troubles of all kinds grew lighter +than a grasshopper. I had a rest unspeakable until rapture followed +rest, and I cried out, 'Whom have I in heaven but Thee? and there is +none upon earth that I desire beside Thee!'" Then the two men +involuntarily clasped hands. They had no words fit for that moment. +Words would have been a hindrance, not a help.</p> + +<p>The next morning Ian was crossing Exchange Place when he saw a man +approaching who gave him a thrill of recollection. He hesitated for a +moment, and then went quickly forward. His hand was outstretched and his +face smiling.</p> + +<p>"Richard!" he cried. "I am glad to see you. I am glad to have this +opportunity of saying I did you wrong. I was very unkind both to you and +to Marion. I am sincerely sorry for the past, will you forgive it now?"</p> + +<p>And Lord Cramer clasped the hand offered and answered with hearty +gladness: "I cannot forgive it now, sir. I forgave it many years ago. +Marion stands between us. We are the best of friends." Then they walked +together cheerfully to a hotel and ordered a good lunch, for both +English and Scotchmen cannot celebrate any event—whether it concern the +heart or the purse—without offering a meat and drink sacrifice for the +occasion. During the meal Ian sent loving words to Marion, and promised +to be with her on the following day, and thus love and good-will took +the place forever of wronged and slighted affection. Then he saw his +eldest grandchild, a beautiful boy of ten years old, Ian, the future +Lord of Cramer, and his heart went out to the lovable child, as it did +also to the bright, seven-year-old Agnes and the pretty baby, Jessy. +Three days he spent at Cramer Hall, and saw all the improvements made +there—the additions to the Hall, the fine condition of the park and +gardens, and the famous and highly profitable oyster beds. So his heart +was filled with that mortal love for which it had been aching and +perishing.</p> + +<p>When he returned to Glasgow he found Dr. Lindsey with his uncle. He had +come in answer to Ian's letter, and he was enthusiastic concerning all +Ian's intentions and eager to assist in realizing them. "You know, Ian," +he said, "we were preparing for a long holiday together when you started +for Furness and Ambleside. This is 'the long journey' for which we were +unconsciously preparing. I called at the little mining village as I came +here——"</p> + +<p>"And that father and his boy?" interrupted the Major.</p> + +<p>"They died together in the pit. They were laid in one wide grave, and +rich and poor, from far and near, came to honor that perfect image of +the Divine love. I called on his widow. She was still weeping for 'her +man and her lile lad.' He was her first-born, but she has four other +children, the youngest a few weeks old. She is very poor. Her neighbors +are feeding her."</p> + +<p>"But that must stop," cried Ian. "It is my duty and my pleasure. How can +I ever pay the debt? I will see to it at once. It is a sin that I have +not already done so."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Ian," answered the Doctor; "and we may recall now how +wonderfully you have been led, and realize that there is a kind of +predestination in our life. It was necessary for you to spend ten years +in the House of Pain and Suffering and Death; necessary for you to know +how to cure the sick and to heal the wounded, in order to prepare you to +receive the sacred mystery in that horrible pit, and make you fit for +the work you have yet to do. Do you remember how impossible we found it, +night after night, to satisfy ourselves as to the course and country our +holiday should take? And all the time the journey was being arranged for +us. Surely the steps of a good man are ordered of the Lord."</p> + +<p>"'<i>Steps</i>,'" said the Major. "We may be glad of that word, for it is +easy for a man to take just one step to ruin or to death."</p> + +<p>The journey to America being determined, Dr. Lindsey went back to London +to prepare his business for an absence of three months. Ian was glad of +his companionship, and promised to meet him in Liverpool on the 25th of +July. There they would take together passage for New York. This plan was +fully carried out, but of the voyage, the journeyings and their life in +California there is no necessity to write. Possibly most of my readers +have crossed the Atlantic, and know far more about California than I do; +so that I may well leave any descriptions to their memories or +imaginations. It is the humanity of my story with which we have to do.</p> + +<p>They had been eagerly looked for at Los Angeles, and were welcomed with +unbounded love and respect. Donald and his father drew aside for a +moment, but what they said to each other only God knows. There is a +divine silence in forgiveness. When Peter first met Christ, after his +denial of Him, what did Peter say? What did Christ say? We are not told; +but great wrongs can be wiped out in one tender word, though such acts +in the drama of life are not translatable. It was different with +Macbeth. He greeted his guests with a proud and delightful extravagance.</p> + +<p>"You are welcome, '<i>Men of St. Andrews!</i>'" he cried; "you are tenfold +welcome!" And for the next five weeks he gave himself to entertaining +them in every possible way. The pretty Spanish wife was shy and +reticent, but her three sons spoke for her, and Donald was evidently the +idol of his house and in all his surroundings prosperous and happy.</p> + +<p>Jessy Caird, however, had failed and faded physically more than she +ought to have done, so Ian was not slow to take the first opportunity of +speaking confidentially to her. She was sitting just within the open +door of her bungalow. Her eyes were closed, her work had fallen from her +hands, and there was no book of any kind within her reach. Ian wondered +at these things. Jessy doing nothing! Jessy without a book! What could +be the meaning of it?</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes as she heard his approach, and said with a smile, +"You are walking like your old self, Ian, but for all that sit down by +me."</p> + +<p>"That is what I am here for. I want to talk with you, and with you only. +My dear sister, you look sick—or very unhappy. Which is it?"</p> + +<p>"Ian, I am both sick and unhappy. In the first place, I am heartbroken +for my native land. I want to see once more the green, green straths of +Scotland—the green straths with a haze of bluebells over them! I want +the gray, soft skies and the little silvery showers that blessed both +humanity and nature with constant freshness. And O Ian, I want, I want, +I want the living tongue of running water! Do you mind that, in all the +summers we spent in Arran, we could not go anywhere on the island and +lose the happy sound of running water? Do you mind how the waters leaped +from rock to rock, and thundered down the craggy glens, and then went +singing and gurgling along the roadside? Ian, Ian, take me home! I want +to die in my own country!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Die!</i> Nonsense, Jessy! You must live for others even if you want to +die. I need you. You must go back to Scotland and help me. I have told +you of the great work my uncle and I are planning. We cannot do without +you."</p> + +<p>Her face brightened, there was a smile in her eyes, and she looked +eagerly at Ian as he continued:</p> + +<p>"It would make you heartsick to see that fine house in the Square going +to destruction. The Major's heart and head are in the building of the +church, and the servant men are neglecting everything beneath their +hands."</p> + +<p>"It serves him right. The Major was set on having only servant men. +Three or four tidy women would have——"</p> + +<p>"To be sure. We shall soon get rid of the men when you and I get home."</p> + +<p>"What are you meaning, Ian? Speak straight."</p> + +<p>"I am going to live with my uncle. He is an old man and needs me."</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense! He will never need either you or anybody else. You +may need him."</p> + +<p>"I need him now, Jessy. He is mainly building the church. His heart and +soul are in it. He has given up practically his large business."</p> + +<p>"Given up his business! What does the man mean?"</p> + +<p>"He is only retaining the charge of three estates until the heirs come +of age. He promised to do that, and does not feel it right to break a +promise made to the dead."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, a man may live decently from three estates."</p> + +<p>"Jessy, we have laid out together such a great and good work, but +without your help we cannot carry it forward. We must have some good +woman to look after our food and our home. We are counting on you, and +you must stand by us."</p> + +<p>"I will go with you gladly. I will soon put a stop to the wastrie and +pilfering going on in the Major's house; and I will take good care of +you two feckless, helpless men—but I am your sister, Ian; I must look +to my position."</p> + +<p>"You are right. You will be mistress. You will stand at my right hand, +as you always did; and the Major said you were to have 'your will and +want and wish,' whatever it was. Jessy, you are going <i>home</i>."</p> + +<p>"How soon, Ian?"</p> + +<p>"Any mail may bring me word to hurry back to Scotland. I feel that I +ought to be there now. Get ready for an early journey."</p> + +<p>In less than two weeks the expected letter, urging Ian's early return, +came; and Ian and Jessy set their faces Scotlandward the next day; but +Dr. Lindsey resolved to stay another month and see more of a country so +wonderfully fresh and interesting. Jessy went away very quietly, and it +struck Ian she was glad when the parting was over; and she acknowledged +that in a certain way she was so.</p> + +<p>"I was that feared I would die there," she said, "and I could not keep +the little Border graveyard out of my thoughts. My kindred for three +hundred years lie there, and I wanted to take my last rest among them." +This feeling would be to an American an unthinkable source of anxiety, +but to the Scotch man or woman it would be a real and potent promoter of +the feeling. For they cherish the memory of their fathers—good or +bad—and there burns alive in them a sense of identity with the dead, +even to the twentieth generation. Ian thoroughly understood Jessy's +worry and respected her for it.</p> + +<p>"You should have written to me, Jessy. A word concerning your fear would +have brought me to you at any time. Why did you think of dying? Were you +not well treated?"</p> + +<p>"I could not have been better treated. I was close to Donald's heart, +the children loved me, and Macbeth wanted me to be his wife."</p> + +<p>"And Mercedes?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not so much. She was a wonderfully jealous little woman. She +did not like Donald or the children or her father to be long in my +company. She did her best to conquer the feeling, but how could she with +centuries of Castilian blood in her veins? It was my own fault if I was +not happy, but the longing for Scotland was above all other desires. I +had too little to do. I wanted some work that was <i>my</i> work. No one can +be content without it."</p> + +<p>"The children are fine boys."</p> + +<p>"Yes—do you remember the morning you would not hear of their father +going either to the army or navy? You said he was the only Macrae to +keep up the name of the family, and forthwith sent him to a desk in +Reid's shipping office. You have four grandsons now, three of them +Macraes. You see God knew, if you could only have trusted Him. What is +the Major's worry now?"</p> + +<p>"He has a hankering after a pulpit. I do not want one."</p> + +<p>"But will your creed be respectable without a pulpit?"</p> + +<p>"I have no creed."</p> + +<p>"Ian!"</p> + +<p>"Except the commandment that we love God and do unto others as we would +like them to do unto us. Love is the fulfilling of the whole law. If +this creed does not satisfy you, Jessy——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know, Ian, I can abandon my creed at any time, but I shall +carry my prejudices into eternity."</p> + +<p>Thus discussing, in Jessy's various moods, their old religious +differences, they came finally to the end of their journey, and found +the Major waiting to receive them at the Buchanan Street railway +station. He had ordered a feast to honor their arrival, and the men who +prepared it—not knowing for whom it was prepared—cooked it badly and +served it in slovenly fashion. The next morning they all went away +forever, and three clever, active girls reigned in their stead. Then +Jessy, the happy-tempered bringer of the best out of the worst, was +satisfied; and the Major knew he would have a home to live in, and Ian, +always fastidiously fond of order and quiet, was sure his domestic life +would fill every necessity of his public work.</p> + +<p>This work was progressing in spite of various delays, and at the end of +the following year the beautiful building was fully ready for use. It +was filled as soon as opened. Doubtless, curiosity had something to do +with the crowded services; yet Ian was already much beloved among all +classes and conditions of men and women, for the love of God, which +filled and influenced his whole life, attracted to him the love of all +who met him. Many remembered him as a haughty cleric, full of learning, +and not very approachable, even to his own congregation. But this new +Ian was always smiling and kindly, ready to cure the wounded and heal +the sick and to give with love and sympathy all the consolations that +flow from the reality of heavenly things.</p> + +<p>The opening of the new church was a great day in Glasgow. There was not +even standing room for one more worshiper, and when Ian saw a large +contingent from the old Church of the Disciples present he was very +happy. And as he looked at them his face shone with love and they saw it +as the face of a Man of God. Tender and inspiring was the sermon he +preached that day, and one sentence in it went—no one knew how—the +length and breadth of Scotland. Yea, before it had been spoken half an +hour there came to him testimony that it had begun its mission. For, as +he was walking leisurely down Sanchiehall Street, Bailie Muir, an old +class-mate at St. Andrews, joined him.</p> + +<p>"O man! man!" he cried in an exultant voice, "I bless you for some words +you said to-day! I have been longing to hear them, though I knew not +until this morning what I wanted."</p> + +<p>"And you know now, Bailie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You said that we came here to <i>work out</i> our salvation with fear +and trembling. Listen! You said, '<i>Immortality is an achievement!</i> It is +not a favor, not a gift, not a selection, not a chance; it is something +we must work for—something we must win. <i>Immortality is an +achievement!</i>' Are these words true?"</p> + +<p>"They are faithful and true words. Come home with me and we will talk +them over."</p> + +<p>Thus out of the old paths and into the brighter new ones this great +heart led his people. By day or night he knew no weariness in +well-doing. His loving kindness was a constant over-flowing of self on +others—a heavenly thing, springing from the soul just at that point +where the divine image is nearest and clearest.</p> + +<p>Do you ask if he is preaching to-day? It is not impossible. Yet my +feeling is that by the full employment of a holy life he arrived some +years ago at maturity for death. Such a man could not linger too long on +the Border Land. Christ himself would speak the <i>compelle intrare</i>, +"Enter! Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!"</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Among Highlanders the name of the relationship expresses +more emotion than the baptismal name.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Playing With Fire, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 36538-h.htm or 36538-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/5/3/36538/ + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Playing With Fire + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Illustrator: Howard Heath + +Release Date: June 27, 2011 [EBook #36538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE *** + + + + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + + PLAYING WITH FIRE + + BY AMELIA E. BARR + +AUTHOR OF "ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE," "THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON," ETC. + + + "<i>Truth is like water; the moment it stands it + stagnates; creeds are merely stagnant truth._" + + + ILLUSTRATED BY + HOWARD HEATH + + WILLIAM BRIGGS + TORONTO + 1914 + + COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + Printed in the United States of America + + + WITH SINCERE RESPECT AND EVERY GOOD WISH + I INSCRIBE THIS NOVEL + TO + WILLIAM JOHN MATHESON, ESQ. + OF HUNTINGTON, LONG ISLAND + + + + + +[Illustration: "'Good-bye, Richard!' she cried. 'Good-bye, dearest of +all!'"] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. THE MINISTER'S FAMILY + +II. LORD RICHARD CRAMER + +III. DONALD PLEASES HIS FATHER + +IV. THE GREAT TEMPTATION + +V. THE MINISTER IN LOVE + +VI. DONALD TAKES HIS OWN WAY + +VII. MARION DECIDES + +VIII. MACRAE LEARNS A HARD LESSON + +IX. WHEN WILL THE NIGHT BE PAST? + +X. A DREAM + +XI. LOVE IS THE FULFILLING OF THE LAW + +XII. AFTERWARD + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"'Good-bye, Richard!' she cried. 'Good-bye, dearest of all!'" + +"There came again to her that singular sense of a past familiarity" + +"She smiled and laid her jeweled white hand confidingly on his" + +"The descent seemed steep and dark" + + + + +PLAYING WITH FIRE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MINISTER'S FAMILY + + An high priest clothed with doctrine and with truth.--ESDRAS I: + 5:40. + + +Glasgow is the city of Human Power. It is not a beautiful city, but the +gray granite of which it is built gives it a natural nobility. There is +nothing romantic about its situation, and its streets are too often +steeped in wet, gray mist, or wrapped in yellowish vapor. But there are +no loungers in them. The crowd is a busy, hard-working crowd, whose +civic motto is Enterprise and Perseverance. They made the river that +made the city, and then established on its banks those immense +shipbuilding yards, whose fleets take the river to the ocean, and the +ocean to every known port of the world. + +It is also a very religious city. Its inhabitants do not forget that +they are mortals, though no doubt mortals of a superior order, and the +number of churches they have built is amazing. It is impossible to walk +far in any direction without coming face to face with one. I am writing +of the midway years of the nineteenth century, when there was one church +among the many that all strangers were advised to visit. It was not the +Cathedral, nor the old Ram's Horn Kirk; it was a large, plain building, +called the Church of the Disciples. No one could find it to-day, for it +stood upon a corner that became necessary to the trade of a certain +great street. Then the Church of the Disciples disappeared, and handsome +shops devoted to business of many kinds rose in its place. + +This church derived its fame from its minister, a very handsome man, of +great scholarly attainments and a preponderance of that quality we call +"presence." Even when at twenty-three years of age he stepped from the +halls of St. Andrew's into the pulpit of the Church of the Disciples, +elders, deacons, and the whole congregation succumbed to his influence. +And when, after twenty-one years of service, he made his dramatic exit +from that pulpit he still held his congregation in the hollow of his +hand. + +He was a Highlander of the once powerful house of Macrae; tall among his +brethren as was Saul among his people. His face was darkly handsome, and +made doubly attractive by a shadowy Celtic pathos. His eyes were +piercing but sad, his voice grand and resonant, suiting well the +wrathful, impassioned Calvinism of his sermons. For he was a Pharisee +of Pharisees touching every tittle of the law laid down by that troubler +of mankind called John Calvin. + +One evening in the beginning of June he went to his home after a rather +unimportant session with his elders. He had taken his own way as usual, +and was not in the least moved by the slight opposition he had been +compelled to silence. With a slow, stately step he walked up the wide +spaces of Bath Street until he came to the handsome residence in which +he dwelt. He had no time to open the door; it was gently set wide by a +girl who stood just within its shelter. A tinge of pleasure came into +the minister's face, and when she said in a low, sweet voice: + +"_Father!_" he answered her in one word full of tenderness: + +"_Marion!_" + +They went into the parlor together. It was the ordinary parlor of its +day, inartistic and comfortably ugly, but withal suitable and pleasant +to the generation, who found in it their ideal of "home." A Brussels +carpet covered the floor, the furniture was of mahogany upholstered in +black horse-hair cloth. There were crimson damask curtains at the +windows, a crimson cloth on the large center table, and a soft large rug +before the bright steel grate, which held a handful of fire, though it +was a fine day in the early part of June. The chimneypiece was of dark +marble; on it there were two bronze figures and a handsome clock, above +it a very large picture of Queen Victoria's coronation. It was a parlor +duplicated in every respectable residence. Such rooms were comfortable +and serviceable and very suitable to the big men who occupied them. + +The minister felt its pleasant "use and wont," and with a sigh of relief +took the easy-chair his daughter drew to the fireside. Then she brought +him a glass of water and his slippers, went for the mail which had come +during his absence, lit the gas, and in many other ways fluttered so +lovingly about him that it was amazing he hardly seemed to notice her +affectionate service. An American father would have drawn the girl to +his side, given her sweet words and tender kisses, and doubtless Dr. +Macrae felt all the affection necessary for this result, but he had +never seen fathers pet their daughters, never been told to do so, had no +precedents to go by, and, on the contrary, had been constantly +instructed both by precept and example that women were not "to be put +too much forward, or given too much praise." Service was the duty of the +women in any household, and men were born with the expectation of it in +their blood. So Dr. Macrae watched and felt and admired and loved, but +made no attempt to express his feelings, and Marion did not expect it. + +Dr. Macrae had lifted a paper, but he soon laid it down, and asked +impatiently: "Marion, where is Aunt Jessy?" + +"She will be here anon, Father--here she comes!" and at the words a +little woman wearing a gray dress, a white lace tippet, and a small +white lace cap, set with pink bows, entered. She was rather pretty, and +sweet and homely as honey. A maid carrying the simple supper of the +family accompanied her. Dr. Macrae looked at her pleasantly, and she +said: + +"Well, Ian!" + +That was all, until the boiled oatmeal and milk, and the toasted cakes +and cheese were spread upon the table. But as soon as the minister had +his plate of boiled oatmeal and his glass of milk before him, she +continued: + +"You are a bit late home to-night, Ian. I was wondering about it." + +"There was a useless kind of session--much talking about nothing." + +"Men must talk, especially when they are in session for that purpose. +What were they talking about?" + +"Many usual things, rather unusually, about the Bible." + +"What for were they meddling with the Book? They were hearing it, or +reading it, all day yesterday." + +"They were discussing the buying of a new Bible for the Church. Deacon +Laird proposed it. He said he had been noticing for a long time that the +pulpit Bible was frizzled and worn, and the cushion much faded; both of +them looking as they should not look in the Church of the Disciples." + +"And what words did you give them?" + +"I let them talk among themselves, until Elder Black said he knew a +place where a large Bible could be got at a very cheap figure, likewise +the cushion, and he would take time to ask the selling price of the same +this week." + +"Well?" + +"I said then: 'Elder, you will keep your silence concerning a cheap +Bible. I'll have no cheap Bible in my pulpit. You are grudging nothing +of the best for all your private necessities, and you will buy the House +of God what is fitting for it.'" + +"You spoke well. Now they will be looking for the best Bible in +Scotland. But what for did Deacon Laird raise that question, when the +congregation, in its most respectable part, is going down the water for +the summer months?" + +"He is young, and only just elected, and he was trying to do something +that none of the other deacons had thought of. That is my surmise. If I +wrong the man, I ask pardon." + +"He will have to pay for his bit of forwardness. The others will see to +it that he backs his proposal with his money." + +Dr. Macrae made no further remark on the subject. He took from his +pocket a letter and said: "I had a few lines from Lady Cramer, and she +tells me that the Little House will be unoccupied this summer. Some +unforeseen circumstances preventing Lady Kitty Baird's family visiting +her, she offers it to me for four or five months. If you could pack your +clothes to-morrow, you might remove there on Wednesday or Thursday, and, +by taking the train from Edinburgh, you would reach Cramer early in the +afternoon." + +"Do you mean that Marion and I are to go there?" + +"I do." + +"O Father, how very delightful! I am so happy!" + +"It is a pretty place. I saw it when I was last at Cramer. Also, it is +near the sea. You will like that, Marion." + +"We will both of us like it, Ian. I shall be glad to be near the hills +and the sea, and Marion is needing a change. But, Ian, you will have to +consider that, if we are going--in a manner--as Lady Cramer's friends or +guests, Marion will be asked--at odd times--to the Hall, and she must +have one or two frocks, and other things in accordance." + +"Marion can go to Stuart and McDonald's and get whatever she wants." + +Then Marion lifted her eyes and met her father's eyes, and she smiled +and nodded; and, though no word was spoken, both were well satisfied. + +"Now," continued Dr. Macrae, "I am going to my study to read. You will +have plenty to talk about. I should only be in your way." + +"Bide a minute, Ian; what about the servant lasses? You cannot shut up +this house. Donald--poor lad--must have some place to lay his head, and +eat his bread." + +"I suppose there are servants in the Little House. Lady Cramer said you +would require to bring nothing but your clothing. All else was +provided." + +"I will have my own servant girls, or none at all." + +"Will you be requiring more than one? You might take Aileen, and leave +Janet here to look after myself and Donald." + +"If that pleases you, I'll make it suit me." + +"Think, and talk over the matter. You will know your wish better in the +morning. Good night." + +The salutation was general, but he looked at Marion, and she answered +the look in a way he understood and approved. Then Mistress Caird +disappeared for half an hour, and when she returned to the parlor +Marion had completed her shopping list. + +"Aunt," she said, as she fluttered the bit of paper, "I have made out my +list. I want so many things, I fear the bill will be very large." + +"You need take no thought about the bill, dear. It will be a means of +grace for your father to pay it. It is very seldom he has a fit of the +liberalities. Teach him to open his hand now and then. A shut hand is a +shut heart." + +"But he was so prompt and kind about it. He never curtailed me in any +way. It is mean to take advantage of his trust and generosity." + +"You have to be mean to make men generous. You must keep your father's +hand open. Let me see your list." + +She read it with a smile, and then, laughing gaily, said: "Well, Marion, +if this is your idea of fine dressing, it is a very primitive one. You +must have at least one silk dress, and what about gloves and satin +slippers and silk stockings to wear with them? And you will require a +spangled fan, and satin sashes, and bits of lace, and there's no mention +of hats or parasols. It is a fragmentary document, Marion, and I am sure +you had better begin it over again, with Jessy Caird to help you." + +When this revision had been made, Marion was still more disturbed. "It +does seem too much, Aunt," she said. "I cannot treat Father in this +way. It is mean." + +"Now I will tell you something. I maybe ought to have told you before. +Listen! You are spending your own money, not his. Your mother left you +all she had, and got your father's promise to give you the interest of +it for your private spending, as soon as your school days were over. She +knew you would then be wanting this and that, and perhaps not be liking +to ask for it. Your father is just giving you your own. Spend it wisely, +and I have no doubt he will continue to give it to you at regular +periods." + +"That makes things different. My mother! Did I ever see her?" + +"She died when you were two days old. She saw you. From her breast I +took you to my heart, and I have loved you, Marion, as my own child." + +"I am your own child, Aunt. I love you with all my heart. Why did you +never talk to me of my mother before?" + +"Because it is always wise to let the Past alone. Give all your heart +and sense to the Priceless Present. You have nothing to do with the +unborn To-morrow or the dead Yesterday." + +"But my mother----" + +"Some day I'll tell you all about her. Did you notice how unconcerned +your father was regarding the house, and the servant girls--and your +brother, also?" + +"He advised us to take one girl and leave the other here. You said 'Yes' +to that proposal, Aunt." + +"He took me unawares. I shall say 'No' to it to-morrow. Men have an idea +that a house takes care of itself, that servants work naturally, and +that dinners are bought ready cooked. He knew enough, however, to choose +the best of the two girls to stay here. I am going to take both of them +with me. I will not be beholden to my Lady for servants, not I! I shall +send for old Maggie in the morning; she can look after the house and the +two men in it--fine!" + +"I wish Donald could go with us." + +"If he could, your father would not let him. He is very angry with +Donald, these six months past." + +"Why?" + +"He wanted him to go to St. Andrews to prepare for the ministry, and the +lad, who usually keeps his own good sense to the fore, forgot himself +and told his father--his father, mind you!--that he would 'not preach +Calvinism' if he got 'the city of Glasgow for doing it.' And the +minister was angry, and Donald got dour and then said a few words he +should not have said to anybody in a Calvinist minister's presence." + +"What did he say?" + +"He said he did not believe in Election. He said every soul was elect; +that even in hell Dives held fast to the fatherhood of God, and God +called Dives 'son.' He said Religion was not a creed, it was a Life, and +moreover, he said, Calvinism was a wall between the soul and God, and +what use was there in hewing out roads to a wall?" + +"Poor Father! Donald should not have said such things in his presence. +No, he should not! I am angry at Donald for doing so." + +"Well, the Macrae was aboon the Reverend that day. He was white angry. +He could not, he did not dare to, open his mouth. He just set the door +wide, and ordered Donald out with a wave of his hand." + +"Poor Donald! That was hard, too." + +"Yes, the Macraes are always + + ----'hard to themselves + And worse to their foes.' + +Donald just came to my room, and I left him alone to cry his young heart +out. But my heart was, and is, with Donald. He is man grown, and he has +a right to have his own opinions." + +"Maybe so, Aunt. But he should not throw his opinions like a stone in +Father's face." + +"Perhaps you'll do the same some day." + +"Me! Never! Never!" + +"I'm glad to hear that." + +"How came Donald to go to Reed and McBryne's shipping office?" + +"He spent the next few days miserably. He did not see his father save at +meal times, and the two of them never opened their mouths. So I said one +morning, 'A new housekeeper will be necessary here, for I will not eat +my bread like a dumb beast a day longer.' Then the mail brought the news +of the break-up in your school, and your father said to me as soon as we +were by ourselves, 'Jessy, you must see that Marion's room is made +pretty. She is a young lady now, and, if anything is needing, get it.'" + +"That was like Father's thoughtfulness." + +"The thought was not all for you. There were other serious +considerations, and he was keeping them in mind. I looked straight in +his face and asked, 'What are you going to do about Donald's future?' He +said, 'I do not know'; and I answered, 'You must find out, for, if I +stay here, something must be done for Donald this day, and I will not +require to tell you this again, Ian.'" + +"O Aunt! how could you speak, or even think, of leaving us? What would I +do here, wanting you?" + +"You did not have to want me, child, and I knew that. At the dinner hour +your father laid down his knife and fork in the middle of the dessert, +and said, 'Donald, you will go in the morning to Reed and McBryne's +shipping office. I have got you a clerkship there. The salary is small, +but your home will be here, and you will have few and trifling +expenses.'" + +"What answer did Donald make?" + +"He was red with passion when his father finished speaking, and he +answered quickly, 'I will not be a shipping clerk. No, sir! I will take +the Queen's shilling and go to the army. Macraes have ever been +fighters. I want no pen. I will have a sword. How can you ask me to be a +clerk, Father? It is cruel! Too cruel!'" + +"Poor Donald!" + +"I think his father felt as much as he did. He could not speak until he +saw the lad move his chair from the table. Then, in a very moderate +voice, he said, 'Stay, Donald, and listen to me. Honor as well as +prudence forbids you the army. You are the last male of our family, +except your aged uncle and myself. Its continuation rests with you. It +is a duty you would be a kind of traitor to ignore. After me, you are +_the_ Macrae. I know the world thinks little of the dead Highland clans, +but we think none the less of ourselves because of the world's +indifference. You will be _the_ Macrae; you must marry, and raise up +sons to keep the name alive. You cannot go to the army. You cannot put +your life constantly in jeopardy. Until something more to your liking +turns up, go to Reed and McBryne's. It is better than moping idly about +the house.'" + +"I think Father was right, Aunt." + +"Donald did not think so. He left the table without a word, but I could +see his father had fathomed him, and found out one weak spot. For as +soon as he said, 'You will be _the_ Macrae,' I saw the light that +flashed into Donald's eyes, and the way in which he straightened himself +to his full height. Then, bowing, he left the room without a yea or nay +in his mouth. Immediately afterward he left the house, but he did not +stay long, and then I had a straight talk with him. I knew where he had +been in the interval." + +"Where could he go but to you?" + +"He has a friend." + +"Matthew Ballantyne." + +"Just so. The lads love each other, and they are both daft about the +same thing--a violin. He went to Matthew, and Matthew told him to humor +his father and bide his time, and he would get his own way in the long +run." + +"Did that please you, Aunt?" + +"Yes, it makes my work easy. And I am going to be good to the lads. I am +going to tell Maggie to make them nice little suppers, and let them play +till midnight, while we are at Cramer Brae. That night you were at the +Lindseys' and your father at Stirling, I had them to supper. There was +three of them, one being a violinist in Menzie's orchestra. He was a few +years older than Donald and Matthew, but just as foolish as they were. +And after their merry meal they played the heart out of me." + +"O Aunt! Aunt! I shall have to stop at home and watch you. The idea of +you standing for Donald behind Father's back in this way. I would not +have believed it. You must love Donald." + +"What for wouldn't I love him? He is most entirely lovable, and when I +love I like to show it--to do foolish things to show it--ordinary things +are not worth as much." + +"I would not have thought it. You, so proper and respectable, making a +feast for three young men, who played the heart out of you with their +violins!" + +"Poor Donald has not a violin of his own, yet he plays better than +Matthew or the orchestra lad. How it comes I cannot tell, but he does, +and there's no 'ifs' or 'ands' about it." + +"Are violins dear things, Aunt?" + +"Too dear for Donald to buy, and he dare not ask his father for money to +buy a violin. Yes, Marion, violins cost a lot of money." + +"You say I have some money of my own." + +"What by that? You shall not ware it on a violin. Donald's violin will +come its own road, and that will not be out of your purse. There's the +clock striking twelve. Whatever are we doing here? I must have lost my +senses to be keeping you." + +"Don't mind an hour or two, Aunt. This has been the most wonderful night +to me. You have spoken of my mother. I have had an invitation to Lady +Cramer's. I have heard that I am, in a small way, an heiress. I have +learned all about the trouble between Father and Donald. I have made out +the list for a far finer wardrobe than I ever expected to own. I am +sorry this wonderful day is over." + +"But it is over, and it is now Tuesday. It will be Saturday before we +can be ready for Cramer Brae. You must stay here until your new frocks +are fitted, and that will make us Saturday. Now sleep well, for I shall +have you called at seven sharp." + +As Mrs. Caird anticipated, it was Saturday afternoon when they arrived +at Cramer Brae. The Cramer carriage was waiting to take them to the +Little House, which was more than a mile inland. It stood on the Brae at +the foot of the hills, and was shielded on the east and west by large +beech trees. The hills were behind, the sea in front of it, and when the +wind was lulled, or from the south, the roar and the beat of its waves +were distinctly heard. + +It was a long, low house. The leaded, diamond-shaped windows opened like +doors on their hinges, and flower boxes, drooping vines and blooms were +on every sill. Gardens and lawns, with a little paddock for the ponies +to run in, covered the six acres of land surrounding it. Marion was +delighted. "Here we shall be so happy, Aunt," she cried in a voice full +of sweet inflections, for she was thanking God in her heart for bringing +her to such a beautiful spot. + +Aileen and Kitty met them at the door and tea was waiting in the small +dining-room. There was a low bowl of pansies in the center of the table, +which was set with cream Wedgwood and silver of the date of Queen Anne. +Every necessity and every luxury for the hour were there, and a +wonderful peace brooded over all things. + +Marion was enchanted. "This place must be like Heaven," she said; and +Mrs. Caird answered, "I hope you are right. I cannot imagine any +circumstances much pleasanter. We may thank God even for this cup of +young Pekoe and thick cream, and delicate bread and fresh butter. They +are just a part of the whole blessing. I have heard of a great English +writer who thought that among many higher pleasures we should not miss +the homely delicacies of our earthly table. I hope we shall not. I +would like a little of earth in heaven; it might be as good to us as is +a little of heaven on earth. Why not? All God's gifts are blessed, if we +bless Him for them." + +"I wonder if Father and Donald will have a good tea?" + +"I'll warrant you. Maggie knows all your father's ways and +likings--queer and otherwise. He would want a bit of broiled fish, or +the like of it. I don't think you or I would care for hot meat now." + +"What could be nicer than this cold, tender chicken?" + +"Nothing, but men are keen for something hot. They don't feel as if they +were fed, wanting the taste and smell of fresh-cooked flesh--of one kind +or another." + +"Donald promised me he would keep straight with Father, if possible." + +"Whiles it is not possible to do that--but he made me the same promise, +and he'll keep it, if his father will let him." + +"Father is not at all quarrelsome, Aunt." + +"Isn't he, dear? I'm very glad to hear it." + +"You ought to know, Aunt; you have lived with him for----" + +"Nearly eighteen years, and I am not settled in my mind yet on that +subject." + +"If people attack Father's creed, it is right for him to be angry. +Donald ought to have kept his opinions to himself." + +"That is the hardest kind of work, Marion. I know, for I've been trying +to do it ever since you were born. Yes, Marion, I have, and it is hard +work to-day." + +"What makes you try it, Aunt?" + +"The same reason as stirs Donald up." + +"Calvinism?" + +"Just Calvinism." + +"But you are a Calvinist?" + +"Not I! No, indeed! But when I came here to take care of Donald and +yourself I promised Jessy Caird never to bring that subject to dispute. +I knew, if I did, I would have to leave you, and I thought more of you +two children than of any creed in Christendom." + +"What creed do you like, Aunt?" + +"I was christened and confirmed in the English Church and I love it with +a great love; but I'm loving Donald and you far better--_and her that's +gone_--and, if the Syrian was to be forgiven for worshiping out of his +own temple for his Master's sake, I think Mother Church will forgive me +for loving two motherless children more than her liturgy." + +"Did Father never ask you if you would like to go to St. Mary's and hear +your own prayers? They are very fine prayers. I have heard them, for +when I was at school Miss Lamont took us sometimes on Sunday afternoons +to the English Church." + +"You are right, but I would not name Miss Lamont's freedom before your +father. I never talk on this subject to him; if I did, we would be +passing disagreeable words in ten minutes. For your sakes, I go +cheerfully to the Calvinistic kirk every Sabbath, and nobody but your +father and myself has known that my soul was Armenian, and hated a +Calvinist even in its most charitable hours." + +"What is an Armenian?" + +"St. Paul was an Armenian, and St. Augustine, and Luther, and John +Wesley, and all the millions that follow their teaching. I am not +ashamed of my faith. I am going to heaven in the best of good company. +But what for are we talking this happy hour of Calvinism? We ought to +let weary dogs lie, and there are few wearier ones than Calvinism." + +"I like to talk of it, Aunt. I want to know all about it." + +"Then talk to the Minister. Here are mountains and trees and flowers of +every kind. Here are birds singing as if they never would grow old, and +winds streaming out of the hills cool as living waters, and wafting into +us scents that tell the soul they come from heaven. Oh, my dear Marion, +let us enjoy God's good gifts and be thankful." + +"Are you going to unpack the trunks to-night, Aunt?" + +"No. Aileen and Kitty would have a conscience ache if we did anything +not necessary so near the Sabbath Day. We must respect their feelings. +Aileen is very strict in her religion. I am tired, and am going to lie +down for an hour, and you can wander about and please yourself. Go into +the garden. I wouldn't wonder if you had a few pleasant surprises." + +So Marion went into the garden, leaving the old house until she had a +whole day to give it. She went among the rose trellises first. The roses +were just budding--gold and pink and white. What a wonder of roses there +would be in a week or two! The pansy beds were another marvel. Such +pansies she had never before seen, for they represented all that the +highest culture could do for size and coloring. Sweet old-fashioned +flowers and flowering shrubs like lad's love were everywhere, and a +little green carpet of camomile was spread in the center of the place +for the fairies. Not far from it was a great bed of lavender and thyme, +a special gift to the honeybees, who lived in the pretty antique straw +skeps near it. Heavily laden with honey, hundreds of bees were flying +slowly home to them, and the misty air was full of an odor from the +hives that stirred something at the very roots of her being. She stood +lost in thought before the skeps and the returning bees, and as she drew +great breaths of the scented air she whispered to herself, "Where and +when have I seen this very picture before?" + +Until the twilight deepened and a gray mist from the sea blended with it +she sat thinking of many things. Life had been so vivid to her during +the past week. She felt as if she had never lived before, and it was not +until all was shadowy and indistinct that she remembered her aunt had +warned her to come into the house before the dew fell and the sea mist +rolled inland. + +Turning hurriedly, she was about to obey this order when she heard +footsteps on the flagged sidewalk running along the front of the house. +She stood still and listened. Perhaps it was Donald. No, the steps were +not like Donald's, they were firmer and faster, and had a military ring +in them. She was standing under a large silver-leafed birch tree, and +not visible from the sidewalk, yet, by stepping a little further into +its shadow, she thought she could satisfy her curiosity. However, she +could see nothing but a tall figure, hastening through the gathering +gloom and looking neither to the right nor to the left. But for the +footsteps, the figure passed silently and swiftly as a bird through the +gray mist. Its sudden appearance and disappearance impressed her +powerfully, and then there came again to her that singular sense of a +past familiarity. "I have stood in a garden watching that figure before. +Where was it? Who is he?" + +[Illustration: "There came again to her that singular sense of a past +familiarity"] + +She was disturbed by the recurrence of the influence, and she went with +rapid steps into the house. Mrs. Caird was coming to meet her. "Marion," +she said, "I have slept past my intentions. Where have you been? It is +too late for you to be outside. Come into the house and shut the door." + +"I was walking in the garden. You told me to do so." + +"Go now to the parlor and sit down. I will be with you directly." + +But Marion knew that her aunt's "directly" had an elastic quality. It +might be half an hour, it might be much more. So she took a book of +poems from a bookcase hanging against the wall, saying to herself as she +did so: "Miss Lamont told me to commit to memory as much good poetry as +I could, because there came hours in every life when a verse learned, +perhaps twenty years before, would have its message and come back to us. +I suppose just as the bees and the man came back to me. I don't remember +where from." + +In less than an hour Mrs. Caird came into the parlor with a glass of +milk in her hand. "Drink it, Marion," she said, "and then go to your +sleep. You have surely worn the day threadbare by this time." + +"I was learning a few lines until you came to me. I want to tell you +something. When it was nearly dark, and I was coming to the house, a man +passed here." + +"I shouldn't wonder." + +"I thought at first it might be Donald." + +"You need not look for Donald. I have told you that before." + +"He was very tall. He walked like a soldier, and passed through the mist +like a darker shadow. He gave me a queer feeling." + +"Which way did he go?" + +"Straight past the house. When his feet touched the brae I lost his +footsteps. I saw him but a moment or two. He passed so quickly. It was +like a dream. I wonder who he was?" + +"Most likely the young Lord. Your father told me he might be at Cramer +Hall. He hoped not, but thought it more than possible. It will be the +right thing for him to keep shadowy and dreamlike. From what I have +heard of the young Lord, he is not proper company for any nice girl. The +old Lord--God rest his soul--was a very saint in his religion and a +wonderful scholar. Your father thought much of him, and he was never +weary of your father's company, and he left him, also, a good testimony +of his friendship in his will." + +"Then Father should not infer ill of his son." + +"Marion, men may be perfectly fit and proper for each other's company, +and very unfit for a nice girl to talk with. The young man has been six +or seven years in a regiment, but now that he has come to the estate and +title I dare say he will resign. He has to look after his stepmother and +the land, for I judge that she is but a young, canary-headed, +thoughtless creature." + +"Who said he wasn't good company for a nice girl?" + +"The Minister himself said it, and to me he said it. So, Marion, if you +should meet him, which I'm thinking is particularly likely, you must act +according to my report. 'He isn't proper company for a good girl,' that +is what the Minister said." + +"Perhaps he is not a Calvinist," and Marion smiled, and Mrs. Caird tried +not to smile. + +"I don't want any complications," she continued, "so don't dream of him, +don't think of him, and don't have any queer feelings about him. Your +father will not have things go contrary to his plans, if he can help it, +and Lord Richard Cramer is not in his plans." + +"I know who is, Aunt, but he is not in my plans." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"About Allan Reid. Oh, I know Father's plan. Allan is making love to me +whenever he can get a chance. And, if I go down town, I'm meeting him +round every corner. I know how Donald came to get into Reid and +McBryne's office." + +"If you know so much, why were you keeping so quiet about things?" + +"You were always telling me to keep my own counsel and share secrets +with nobody." + +"I was not including myself in that order." + +"Father cannot bend either Donald's or my life to his wish." + +"It is your life-long happiness and welfare he is planning for." + +"God will order my life. That will content me. And God would not want me +to marry Allan Reid, with his long neck and weak eyes, because I could +never love him, and I suppose you ought to love the man you marry." + +"I believe it is thought necessary by some people. Allan will have lots +of money, and in good time walk to the head of the biggest shipping +business in Glasgow. He is a religious young man, always in kirk when +kirktime comes, and I hear that he is also the cleverest of men in a +matter of business. He'll be the richest shipper in Glasgow some day." + +"I shall never marry for money. Never! Never!" + +"You'll never marry for money, won't you? Let me tell you, it is a far +better way of marrying, in general, than comes of vows and kisses and +all such gentle shepherding." + +"For all that, 'I will marry my own true love.'" + +"When he comes, young lady." + +"When he comes! I think he will not be long in coming now." + +"Go away to your sleep. You're just dreaming with your eyes open. Good +night, dear." + +"Good night; and 'I will marry my own true love,'" and, with the lilt on +her lips, she went singing to her room. + +Mrs. Caird sat down, completely perplexed. "Here's a nice state of +affairs!" she mused. "I said but a few words about the young Lord, and, +out of a woman's pure contradiction, she instantly made a graven image +of him, and set him up in her mind to worship. She was ready, though she +never saw him, to defend him against her father's judgment. I could see +that plainly. What kind of a girl is this? Never a thought of love did I +give Andrew Caird until he said in so many words, 'Jessy, will you be my +wife?' Time enough then to begin the worshiping. Well, Ian is going to +have his hands and heart full with these two children, and I'll be +getting the blame of it. And, of course, I shall stand by both of them. +I kissed that promise on my dying sister's lips, and I wouldn't break it +for Lords, nor Commons, nor the General Assembly of the Kirk added to +them. I shall stand by both! There's no harm in Donald's opinions. I +hold the same myself, and, what's more, I always shall hold them. Fire +couldn't burn them out of me. As for Marion, if she wants to build her a +little romance, why should I hinder? The girl shall have her dream, if +it pleases her." Then she slowly went upstairs to her room, and the +Little House was still as a resting wheel. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +LORD RICHARD CRAMER + + "Souls see each other at a glance, as two drops of rain might + look into each other, if they had life." + + "The cause of love can never be assigned, + It is not in the face, but in the mind." + + +It was the Sabbath, and all its surroundings were steeped in that +wonderful Sabbath stillness that not even great cities are without. The +servants had put on with their kirk gowns the quiet movements they kept +for this day, and, as they noiselessly prepared the breakfast, they +talked softly to each other in monosyllables. Marion was used to this +formality, and indeed was herself involuntarily affected by it. She +stood hesitating on the doorsteps about a walk in the garden. Her feet +longed for the soft lawns and the flowery paths, but she had not escaped +the Sabbath thraldom of her house and native city. + +"It might be wrong," she mused, "perhaps I ought to go to God's house +and honor Him before all else. I must ask Aunt Jessy." + +In a few minutes she heard her aunt coming downstairs. Evidently Mrs. +Caird had forgotten that it was the Sabbath; she took the steps quickly, +with some noise, too, and her face was happy; indeed, she looked ready +to laugh. + +"This is a heavenly place!" she said cheerfully, "and here comes Kitty +with breakfast. There's no wonder you stand at the open door, Marion. +Look at that little summerhouse. It is covered with jasmine stars. If +you saw an angel resting in it, you would not be astonished." + +"I was longing to walk in the garden." + +"And why not?" + +"It is the Sabbath." + +"All days are Sabbath to the grateful heart." + +"Yes, but this is the Kirk Day, and I was wondering how we were to get +there. Aileen says it is near two miles away. I can walk two miles, but +you----" + +"I can walk as well as you can, but I'm not going to try it. I'm not +going to the Kirk at all to-day--walking or riding." + +"Not going to Kirk, Aunt!" + +"No. I have made up my mind to have one long, sweet, quiet day, and to +keep it with none present but God. As soon as I opened my eyes this +morning I heard larks singing up to the very gate of heaven. I saw one +rise from the brae just outside. I'll warrant you his nest was there. +Marion, he was worshiping before any of our Glasgow burghers were out of +their beds. I sent a prayer up with his song. God bless the bird!" + +"What will Father say?" + +"Just what he wants to say. I'll not hinder him. When you have eaten +your breakfast go into the garden and say a prayer among the flowers. +You'll be in one of God's own kirks. Open all your heart to Him." + +"And you?" + +"I'll be mostly in my room. It is long, long years since I had a Sunday +that rested me. I have made up my soul and my heart to have one this +day." + +"And Aileen and Kitty?" + +"They can walk to the Kirk. It will do them good. A mile or two is +nothing." + +"I heard Aileen say there was a Victoria and a light wagon in the +carriage house, and she supposed the wagon would be for the servants." + +"It may be so and it may not. I heard nothing about vehicles, and I am +not going to discuss them in any kind or manner. The girls can walk to +Kirk if they want to go; if not, they can bide in their place here. And +I'll tell them that plainly, as soon as I have finished my breakfast." + +It is likely Mrs. Caird kept her word; for Sunday's dinner, always +prepared on Saturday, was laid on the table immediately after breakfast +and then the girls disappeared, and were not seen until it was time to +prepare supper. They looked dissatisfied and disappointed, and Aileen +admitted they were so. + +"Cramer Kirk is a poor little place," she said, "and the Minister no +better than the Kirk. Master always makes a great gulf between the good +and the wicked, and his sermons hae some pith in them--the good get +encouragement, and the wicked are plainly told what kind o' a future +they are earning for themselves. But, with this man, it was just 'Love +God! Love God!' as if there was any use in loving God if you didna serve +Him. It was a poor sermon, Ma'am. Master would not like such doctrine, +and I came hungry away from it. So did Kitty. Kitty was saying you were +not in the Kirk. Were you sick, Ma'am?" + +"Oh, no, Aileen! I was just loving God at home." + +Aileen was amazed at the avowal. She looked at her mistress with +wondering eyes, and, though she did not venture to blame, there was +distinct disapproval in her attitude. + +Mrs. Caird had spent the day in her room and in the summerhouse in the +garden, and this day the wonderful garden paid for its making; for in +the evening, as she was walking there with Marion she pointed to an +inscription above the entrance to the jasmine-shaded bower, and said, +"Read it to me, Marion." And Marion read slowly, as if she was tasting +the sweet flavor of the words: + + "_Christ hath took in this piece of ground, + And made a garden there, for those + Who want herbs for their wounds._" + +The two women looked at each other. Their eyes were shining, but they +did not speak. There was no need. That day Jessy Caird had found herbs +in the sweet shadowy place for all her unsatisfied longings, her fears +and anxieties, and received full payment for her long, unselfish love +and service. + +The next afternoon the Minister joined his daughter and sister-in-law. +He was very cheerful and happy as he sat drinking a cup of tea. His +daughter was at his side, and Mrs. Caird's presence added that sense of +oversight and of "all things in order" which was so essential to his +satisfaction. However, Mrs. Caird had a way of asking questions which he +would rather not answer, and he felt this touch of earth when she said: + +"How is Donald? And how is he faring altogether, Ian?" + +The question was unanswered for a moment or two, then he said with +distinct anger, "I did not see Donald. The Minister's pew was empty +yesterday." + +"Did you ask Maggie where he was?" + +"Why should I do that? Donald ought to have told me where he was going +on the Sabbath. It will be a black day when I have to go to servants for +information about my son." + +"Poor Donald! he cannot do right whatever he does. I dare say he only +went with Matthew Ballantyne to his father's place near Rothesay. You +will be getting a letter from him in the morning." + +"I would rather have seen him where he ought to have been." + +"In the _Church of the Disciples_?" + +"Even so." + +"You are all wrong. The boys would be on the water or climbing the +mountains. They were in God's holiest temple. I hope you don't even the +_Church of the Disciples_ with it!" + +"This, or that, Jessy, Donald ought to have been in the Kirk." + +"Maybe he was at Matthew's Kirk. Dr. Ward is preaching there now, and +both Matthew and Donald think a deal of him." + +"I dare say. Donald's father is always last. He would rather hear any +one preach than his father." + +"There's a reason for that. He does not see the others in their daily +life. They don't thwart his wishes and scorn his hopes and set him to +work that he hates. He sees them only in the pulpit, where they have +pulpit grace and pulpit manners." + +"I have always treated Donald with loving kindness." + +"To be sure, when Donald walked the narrow chalk line you made for him. +You had your own will. You wanted to be a minister and no one hindered +you." + +"How do you know, Jessy, that I wanted to be a minister?" + +"Because you could not be happy unless you had power, and spiritual +power was all you could lay your hands on. Donald was willing to go +either to the sea or the army. What for wouldn't you give him his +desire?" + +"I have told you his life is all the Macraes have to build upon." + +"You yourself were in the same position before Donald was born." + +"Yes, and so I chose the salvation of the ministry." + +"You had the 'call' thereto. You liked the salvation of the ministry. +Donald could not take it, so you tied him to a counting desk. It was +like harnessing a stag to a plough. But you'll take your own way, no +matter where it leads you. So I'll say no more." + +"Thank you, Jessy. If you would consider the subject closed, I----" + +"I will do no such thing. I shall speak for Donald whenever I can, in +season or out of season. There is a letter for you from Lady Cramer. It +came this morning." + +Dr. Macrae took it with a touch of respect, and read it twice over +before he spoke of its contents, though Mrs. Caird and Marion had their +part in its message. Finally, he laid it down and, handing his cup to be +refilled, he said: + +"Jessy, at six o'clock this evening, Lady Cramer will send a carriage +for me. She wishes me to stay until Wednesday afternoon, then she +intends coming to pay her call of welcome to you and Marion, and I will +return with her." + +"So she is wanting you for the most part of two days. What for? She has +her lawyers, and councillors, and her stepson." + +"The business she wants me to talk over with her is beyond lawyers and +councillors. It is of a literary and religious nature." + +"Oh! You may keep it to yourself, Ian." + +"I do not suppose you would understand it. The late Lord left some +papers on scientific and theological subjects. Lady Cramer wishes me to +prepare them for publication." + +"Lord Angus Cramer was not a very competent man, if all is true I have +heard about him. I think Marion and myself could understand anything he +could write." + +"Jessy, we all know that the mental qualities of men differ from those +of women. The inequalities of sex----" + +"Have nothing whatever to do with mental qualities. Inequalities of sex, +indeed! They do not exist! They are a fiction that no sane man can argue +about." + +"Jessy, I say----" + +"Look at your own fireside, Minister. Donald is well fitted to go to the +army, take orders, and carry them out. Marion would be giving the +orders. Donald has an average quantity of brains. Marion can double +yours, and, if given fitting education and opportunity, would preach and +write you out of all remembrance. And where would you be, I wonder, +without Jessy Caird to guide and look after all your outgoings and +incomings? Who criticizes your sermons and tells you where they are +right, and where wrong, and who gives you 'the look' when you have said +enough, and are going to pass your climax?" + +"My dear sister, you are my right hand in everything. I do nothing +without your advice. I admit that I should be a lost man physically +without you." + +"Mentally, likewise. Give me all the credit I ought to have." + +"Yes, my sermons owe a great deal to you. And you have kept me socially +right, also. I would have had many enemies, wanting your counseling." + +"That's enough. I have been your faithful friend; and a faithful friend +likes, now and then, to have the fact acknowledged. You had better go to +your room now and put on the handsomest suit in your keeping. You'll +find linen there white as snow, and pack a fresh wearing of it for +to-morrow. By the grace of God you are a handsome man and you ought to +show forth God's physical gifts, as well as His spiritual ones." + +Doubtless the compliment was balm to the little pricks and pinches of +her previous remarks; for Dr. Macrae went with cheerful, rapid steps to +his toilet, and Mrs. Caird looked after him smiling and rubbing her lips +complacently, as if she was complimenting them on their courage and +moderation. + +Tall, stately, aristocratic in appearance, Dr. Macrae stepped into the +Cramer carriage with an air and manner that elicited the utmost respect, +almost the servility, of the coachman and footman. Marion looked at her +aunt with a face glowing with pride, and Mrs. Caird answered the look. + +"You are right, Marion. In some ways there is none like him. If he +would be patient and considerate with your brother, I would stand by Ian +Macrae if the whole world was against him." + +"Suppose I should displease him--suppose he told me I must marry Allan +Reid, and I would not--would you stand by me as you stand by Donald, +Aunt Jessy?" + +"Through thick and thin to the very end of the controversy, no matter +what it was." + +"I saw Father stop and look at the book I laid down." + +"What book was it?" + +"'David Copperfield,' and Father told me not to read Dickens. He said he +was common, and would take me only into vulgar and improper company. He +told me to read Scott, if I wanted fiction." + +"Scott will take you into worse company. Romance does not make robbers +and villains good company. Dickens's common people are real and human, +and have generally some domestic virtues. Yes, indeed, some of his +common people are most uncommonly good and lovable. For myself, I cannot +be bothered with Scott's long pedigrees and descriptions. If there's a +crack in a castle wall, he has to describe how far it runs east or west. +It is the old, bad world Scott writes about, full of war and bloodshed, +cruel customs and hatreds. And his characters are not the men and women +we know, but if you go to England you will see the characters of +Dickens in the omnibuses and on the streets." + +"I would like us to have everything in beautiful order on Wednesday, +Aunt." + +"Everything is in beautiful order now and will be at any hour Lady +Cramer chooses to call, as long as I am head of this house." + +Still, on Wednesday afternoon Marion looked at the chairs and tables and +all the pretty paraphernalia of the parlor critically. There was nothing +in it she could wish different. The furniture was of rosewood +upholstered in pale blue damask. The walls were covered with a delicate +paper, and hung on them were pastels of lovely faces and green +landscapes. The latticed windows were open, and a little wind gently +moved the white lace curtains. The vases were full of flowers, and a +small crystal one held the first rose of the season. There was nothing +she could do but open the piano, and place a piece of music on its rack, +that would give a sense of life and song to the room. + +This done she looked around and, being satisfied, took a book and sat +down. The book was "David Copperfield," and she had just arrived at that +pleasant period when _David_ finds out that _Dora_ puts her hair in curl +papers, and even watches her do it, when Mrs. Caird entered the room. + +"Marion," she said, "I see the Cramer carriage coming, stand up and let +me look at you." + +Then Marion rose and she seemed to shine where she stood. From her +throat to her sandals she was clothed in white organdie. A white satin +belt was round her waist, and a necklace of polished white coral round +her neck. There were white coral combs in her abundant black hair, and +beautiful white laces at her elbows. + +"You are a bonnie lassie," said her aunt proudly, "and see you hold up +your own side. You are Ian Macrae's daughter and as good as any lady in +the land. And beware of flattering my Lady in any form or shape. It is +the worst of bad manners, as well as clean against your interests, to +flatter a benefactor. Let them say nice words to you." + +Then the carriage was at the door, and Mrs. Caird was there also, and +Marion could hear the usual formalities, and the rustle of clothing and +all the pleasant stir of arriving guests. She sat still until Lady +Cramer entered, then rose to greet her. For a moment there was a slight +hesitation, the next moment Lady Cramer cried, "You are Marion! I know +you, child! I thought you were an angel!" + +"Not yet, Lady Cramer." + +The right key had been set. Lady Cramer fell at once into a charming, +simple conversation and Dr. Macrae, who feared his daughter would be +shy and uninteresting, was amazed at the cleverness of her conversation +and the self-possession of her manner. + +When tea was served, Marion waited upon Lady Cramer. She had given her +father one look of invitation to take her place, but the Minister knew +better than to answer it. The Apostles had refused to serve tables, he +respected his office equally. Spiritually, he sat in the place of honor, +how could he serve anyone with tea and muffins? There was a maid in cap +and apron to perform that duty. The Macraes were a proud family, but it +was not temporal pride that actuated the Minister. In all cases and at +all hours he followed St. Paul's example and "magnified his office." He +had always retired from anything like service, either at home or abroad, +and it would be idle and false not to admit that he was admired and +respected for it. It was honor enough that he condescended to be +present, for in those days the Calvinistic ministry were a grave and +rather haughty religious oligarchy. But they were not to blame; for the +honor of God and their own satisfaction the people made them oligarchs. + +After tea Lady Cramer asked Marion to sing for her. "There is a song," +she said, "that I hear everywhere I go, and never too often. I dare say +you can sing it, Marion. May I call you Marion?" + +"I should like you to do so, Lady Cramer. And what is the name of the +song?" + +"I cannot tell you; it is about rowing in a boat; it is the music that +charms. My dear, it beats like a human heart." + +"I know it," answered Marion and, with a pleased acquiescence, she +played a few chords embodying a wonderful melody, and anon her voice +went with it, as if it was its very own: + + "Row, young comrades, row, young oarsmen, + Into the crypt of the night we float; + Fair, faint moonbeams wash and wander, + Wash and wander about the boat. + Not a fetter is here to bind us, + Love and memory lose their spell, + Friends of the home we have left behind us, + Prisoners of content! Farewell!" + +At the last four lines the charm was doubled by someone--not in the +room--singing them with her. It was a man's voice, a fine baritone, and +was used with taste and skill. Every line raised Marion's enthusiasm, no +one had ever heard her sing with such power and sweetness before, and +during the little outburst of delight that thanked her Lord Richard +Cramer entered the room. + +"The praise is partly mine," he cried in a joyous voice, "and I know the +musician will give me it." As he spoke he took the Minister's hand, and +Dr. Macrae rose at the young man's request, and introduced his daughter +to him. They looked, and they loved. The feeling was instantaneous and +indisputable. Richard was on the point of calling her "Marion" a dozen +times that happy hour; and "Richard" came as naturally and sweetly to +Marion's lips. They sang the song over again, and before Lady Cramer +left she had noticed the impression made upon her son, and resolved to +have the young people under her supervision. + +"I must have Marion for a week," she said to Mrs. Caird, and Lord +Richard added that he had promised to teach Miss Macrae to ride, and +that the lessons would require "a week at the very least." And Mrs. +Caird was pleased to give such a ready consent to the proposal that Dr. +Macrae could find no possible reason for refusing it. + +Then the party broke up in a happy little tumult that defied the cold +proprieties of the best society; for Lord Cramer had set the chatter and +laughter going, and to Mrs. Caird the relaxation was like a glass of +cold water to a thirsty woman. + +"I am worldly enough to like the Cramers' way," she answered, when the +Minister regretted the innocent merriment. "There was not a wrong word; +no, nor a wrong thought, Ian; and I was fairly wearying for the sound of +happy singing, and the voices of young folks chattering and laughing. +This afternoon has been a great pleasure to me. And I'm hoping there +will be plenty more like it. A man from the Hall has just brought a box. +It appears to be a heavy one." + +"It is full of books and papers." + +"What kind of books, Ian?" + +"Books that many are reading with an amazing interest, Jessy; and which +I have long thought of examining. Huxley and Darwin's works, poor Hugh +Miller's 'Investigations,' Bishop Colenso's 'Misconceptions,' +Schopenhauer and others----" + +"Ian, do not open one of them. There is your Bible. Don't you read a +word against it. In a spiritual sense, it is the sun that warms, and the +bread that feeds you." + +"The intellectual feeling of the critical school of Bible readers ought +to be familiar to me, or how can I preach against it, Jessy?" + +"You have all the sins mentioned in the Commandments to preach against. +The critical school can bear or mend its own sins." + +"Let me explain, Jessy. The late Lord Cramer during his long illness +read all these questioning, doubting books, and he wrote many +refutations of their errors, or at least he believed them to be +refutations. I have promised Lady Cramer to examine the papers, and +prepare them for publication." + +"Ian, do not do it. I entreat you to decline the whole business." + +"You are unreasonable, Jessy." + +"These men of the Critical School are intellectual giants. Are you +strong enough to wrestle with them and not be overcome?" + +"Not unless I comprehend them. Therefore, I must read what they say." + +"What matters comprehension if you have Faith?" + +"I have Faith, and I can trust my Faith. I know what I preach. My creed +is reasonable and I believe it. I am no flounderer in unknown seas." + +Nor was he. Ian Macrae was surely at this period of his life an upright +soul. All his beliefs were fixed, and he was sure that he understood God +perfectly. So he looked kindly into the pleasant, anxious face before +him, and continued: + +"I have not a doubt. I never had a doubt. I wish I was sure of +everything concerning my life as I am of my creed. In my Bible, the +blessed book from which I studied at St. Andrews, I have written these +lines of an old poet, called Crawshaw: + + "'Think not the Faith by which the just shall live + Is a dead creed, a map correct of heaven, + Far less a feeling fond and fugitive-- + It is an affirmation, and an act, + That bids eternal truth be present fact.'" + +"We do not know ourselves, Ian; however, we do know that the Christ who +carries our sins can carry our doubts. And no one is sure of what will +happen in their life. What is troubling you in particular?" + +"Donald--and Marion." + +"Marion! The dear child! She has never given you a heartache in all her +life." + +"She gave me one this afternoon." + +"Because she was happy. Ian, you are most unreasonable." + +"I am afraid of Lord Cramer. He would have made love to her this +afternoon----" + +"I will suppose you are right and then ask, what wrong there would have +been in it?" + +"More than I can explain. For seven years he was in a fast cavalry +regiment, and he kept its pace even to the embarrassing of the Cramer +estate. He had reached the limit of his father's indulgence three years +ago. His stepmother has been loaning him money ever since, and he is in +honor bound to repay her as soon as possible. That duty comes before his +marriage, unless he marries a rich woman. My daughter would be a most +unwelcome daughter to Lady Cramer, and I will not have Marion put in +such a position. Dislike spreads quickly, and from the mother to the son +might well be an easy road. There is something else also----" + +"Pray let me hear the whole list of the young man's sins." + +"He is deeply influenced by the 'isms' of the day, and, though brought +up strictly in the true church, Lady Cramer fears he never goes there; +for she cannot get him to spend a Sabbath at home." + +"All this, Ian, is hearsay and speculation. We have no right to judge +him out of the mouth of others. Speak to him yourself." + +"I cannot speak yet. But at once I wish you to speak to Marion. Tell her +to hold her heart in her own keeping. The late Lord Cramer was my +friend. He told me whom he wished his son to marry, and it would be a +kind of treachery to the dead if I sanctioned the putting of my own +daughter in her place. I would not only be humiliated in my own sight, +but in the sight of the church, and of all who know me." + +"No girl can hold her heart in her own keeping if the right man asks for +it. There was my little sister----" + +"We will not bring her name into the subject, Jessy. It is painful to +me. I saw plainly this afternoon that Marion was pleased with Lord +Cramer's attention." + +"Any girl would have been so. He is a handsome, good-natured man, full +of innocent mirth, and Marion loves, as I do, the happy side of +life--and is hungry--as I am--for its uplifting." + +"Marion has never seen the unhappy side of life. Her lines have fallen +to her in pleasant places. A short time ago Allan Reid told me he loved +her and asked my permission to win her love, if he could. I gave him it. +She could not have a more suitable husband." + +"Girls like handsome, well-made men, Ian, men like yourself. Allan Reid +is not handsome; indeed, he is very unhandsome. Marion spoke to me of +his long neck and weak eyes, and----" + +"Girls are perfectly silly on that subject. A good man, and a rich man, +is as much as a girl ought to expect." + +"Men are perfectly silly on the same subject. A good woman with a heart +full of love is as much, and more than, any man ought to expect. But, +before he thinks of these things, he is particularly anxious that she +should be beautiful, and graceful, and money in her purse makes her +still more desirable." + +"A man naturally wants a handsome mother for his children." + +"Girls are just as foolish. They want a handsome father for their +children. I think, Ian, you might as well give up all hopes of Marion's +marrying Allan Reid. She believes him to be as mean-hearted as he is +physically unhandsome. She will never accept him." + +"I shall insist on this marriage. Say all you can in young Reid's +favor." + +"Preach for your own saint, Ian. I have nothing to say in Allan Reid's +favor." + +"Then say nothing in favor of Lord Cramer." + +"What I have seen of Lord Cramer I like. Do you want me to speak ill of +him?" + +"I have told you what he has been." + +"His father's death has put him in a responsible position. That of +itself often sobers and changes young men. Ian Macrae, leave your +daughter's affairs alone. She will manage them better than you can. And +what are you going to do about Donald?" + +"Donald is doing well enough." + +"He is not. I am afraid every mail that comes will tell us that he has +taken the Queen's shilling, or gone before the mast." + +"What do you want me to do?" + +"Ask Donald what he wants, and give him his desire--whatever it is." + +"There is not a good father in Scotland that would do the like of that, +Jessy." + +"Then be a bad father and do it. I am sure you may risk the +consequences." + +"These children are a great anxiety to me. Something is wrong if they +will not listen to their father. I am very much worried, Jessy. I will +go and unpack those books and then read awhile." + +"Listen to me, Ian. You say that now you have perfect Faith. When you +have gone through those books, your Faith will be in rags and tatters." + +"I do not fear. There is no danger but in our own cowardice. We are +ourselves the rocks of our own doubt. The danger lies in fearing danger. +I made a promise to the dead. I cannot break it, Jessy. Such a promise +is a finality." + +"You made that promise by the special instigation of the devil, Ian." + +"Jessy, you never read these books. The men who wrote them were morally +good men, seekers after truth and righteousness. I believe so much of +them." + +"You are partly right. I have never read the books, but I have read +long, elaborate, wearisome reviews of them. That was enough, and more +than enough, for me." + +"Why did you read such reviews?" + +"Because I wanted to know whether Donald and Marion should be warned +against them. I think they ought to be warned." + +"You can leave that duty to me. If I think it necessary, they will +receive the proper instruction." + +"I wonder the government allows such books to be published. They will +ruin the coming generations. The Romans had not much of a religion, but +when they began to doubt it they went madly into vice and atheism and +national ruin. If men have such wicked thoughts as are in the books you +are going to read, they ought to keep them in their own hearts. If they +could not do that, I would put them in prison, and take pen and ink from +them." + +"Do be more charitable, Jessy. The Bible teaches----" + +"It teaches us to let such destructive books alone. God himself +specially warned the Israelites not even 'to make inquiry' about the +religion of the Canaanites; they did it, of course, and you know the +result as well as I do. And men these days are so set up with their long +dominion and the varieties of strange knowledge they have accepted that +they do not require any Eve to pull this apple of disobedience and doubt +of God. They manage it themselves." + +"Jessy Caird, you have no right to impute evil to either men or books +that are only known to you through some critic's opinion." Then he rose +and, standing with uplifted eyes, said with singular emotion: + + "'O God, that men would see a little clearer! + Or judge less harshly where they cannot see. + O God, that men would draw a little nearer + To one another! They'd be nearer Thee!'" + +With these words he left Jessy and went to the room where the fateful +books were waiting for him. + +And Jessy could say no more. But she threw her knitting out of her hands +and let them drop hopelessly into her lap. + +"When men stop reasoning, they quote poetry," she mused angrily. "I +never heard Ian quote a whole verse before, unless he was in the pulpit; +well, I have warned him, and now I can only hope he will feel that sense +of utter desolation in his soul that I always felt after a few sentences +of Schopenhauer or Darwin. There! I hear him opening the box. Now begin +the to-and-fro paths of Doubt and Persuasion, days full of anxious +brooding, nights full of shadowy chasms, that nothing but Faith can +bridge. But Ian has Faith--at least in his creed--and there are +spiritual influences that no one can predict or resist, for the way of +the Spirit is the way of the wind." Motionless she sat for a few +minutes, and then rose hastily, saying softly as she did so, "Wherever +is Marion? I wonder she was not seeking me ere this." + +She found Marion in her own room. She was kneeling at the open window +with her elbows on the broad stone sill, and her cheeks were almost +touching the sweet little mignonettes. A tender smile brooded over her +face, a tender light was in her eyes, she was lost in a new, ineffable +sense of something full of delight--some pleasure strangely personal +that was hers and hers alone. + +"I am lonely without you, Marion. Why did you run away from me?" + +"I thought Father was with you and, perhaps, saying something I would +not like--about our visitors." + +"What could he say that was not pleasant? I am sure they were everything +that any reasonable person could expect." + +"You know what Father told you about Lord Cramer. I have now seen him. I +would not believe any wrong of him. I shall not listen to any wrong of +him without protesting it; so I thought it best not to go into +temptation." + +"You did right." + +"He is a beautiful young man--and how exquisite are his manners! How did +he learn them?" + +"He has always lived among people of the highest distinction, and they +practice them naturally--or ought to do so." + +"To you, to his stepmother, to Father, and to me he was equally polite. +He did not treat me indifferently because I have only the shy, +half-formed manners of a school-girl. He paid you as much respect as he +paid Lady Cramer, though you are old and beneath her in social rank, nor +was he in the least subservient to Father because he is a famous +minister. He was equally attentive and courteous to all." + +"I will take leave to differ with you, Marion Macrae. I am not old. I am +in the midway of my life, young in soul, mind and body, and I am nothing +beneath Lady Cramer in rank. Keep that in your mind. And you are not a +shy, untrained school-girl; you are a young, lovely woman, with the +naturally fine manners that come from a good heart and proper education. +As for subservience to your father, I saw nothing of it from Lord +Cramer, but Lady Cramer deferred to him in everything, and I wonder she +has not turned his head round, and his heart inside out with her +humility, and homage, and her downcast eyes." + +"She is very pretty, Aunt." + +"She is fairly beautiful. She has the witching ways of those +golden-haired women, and all their flattering submissions. She can drop +her blue eyes, and then lift them with a flash that would trouble any +man's heart that had love or life left in it. And see how wisely and +warily she dresses herself--the long, black, satin gown, with its white +crape collar and cuffs, and the black and white satin ribbons so fresh +and uncreased!" + +"And the wave and curl of her lovely hair, under the small white lace +bonnet! I thought, Aunt, she----" + +"She ought not to have worn a white bonnet. It is too soon after her +husband's death to wear a bit of white lace and a few white flowers on +her head. She should have worn her widow's bonnet for two years, and it +is wanting half a year at least of that term. But, this or that, she is +a butterfly of beauty and vanity, and I would not be astonished if she +fell in love with your father. To most women he would be an +extraordinarily attractive man." + +"O Aunt Jessy, what an idea! That would be the most unlikely of things." + +"For that very reason it is likely." + +"Father never notices women except in a religious way--when they are in +trouble, or want his advice about their souls." + +"You can no more judge your father by his outside than you can judge a +cocoanut. He has a volcanic soul--ordinarily the fire is low and quiet, +but if it should become active it would be a dangerous thing to meddle +with." + +"Father may have an austere face, but he has a tender mouth; and, O +Aunt, I have seen love leap into his shadowy eyes when I have met him at +the door, or drawn my chair close to his side in the evening." + +"Your father is a good man. He has a genius for divine things--but women +are not reckoned in that class." + +"And I think Lord Cramer is a good man, though his genius may be for +military things. He had the light of battle on his face this afternoon +when he told us of that fight with the Afghans; and how sad was his +expression when he described the burying of his company's colonel after +it--the open grave in a cleft of hills dark with pines, the solemn dead +march, the noble words spoken as they left their leader forever, and +turned back to camp to the tender, homely strains of _Annie Laurie_. Oh, +I could see and hear all. I have felt ever since as if I had been +present." + +"He appears to be a fine young fellow, though we must remember that men +judge men better than women can; and it may be possible your father's +opinion of Lord Richard Cramer has at least some truth in it." + +"I do not believe it has. I think, also, that Lord Cramer is the +handsomest man I ever saw. Just compare him with Allan Reid." + +"Why are you speaking of Allan Reid?" + +"Because Father thinks I will marry the creature." + +"Will you do as your father wishes?" + +"Once, I might have done so--perhaps. Not now. My eyes have been opened. +I have seen a man like Lord Richard Cramer, and I will marry no man of a +meaner kind. How tall and straight and slender is his figure! How bold +and manly his face! His gray eyes are full of quick, undaunted spirit, +he is all nerve and fire, and I believe he could love as well as I am +sure he can fight." + +"You need not take love into the question. Richard Cramer will be +compelled to marry a rich woman. Your father says he is bound both by +honor and necessity to do so." + +Marion buried her face in the mignonette, and did not answer; and Mrs. +Caird, after a few moments' silence, said: + +"Be glad that your heart is your own, and do not give it away until it +is asked for." + +"As if I would be so foolish, Aunt! I stand by Lord Cramer because +people tell lies about him. I always stand by anyone wronged. I would +even stand by Allan Reid, if I knew he was slandered without just +cause." + +"That is very good of you. If Allan heard tell of your opinion, he would +get someone to lie him into your favor." + +"He could not, because I would believe anything bad of Allan." + +Then Mrs. Caird laughed, and Marion wondered why. She had forgotten the +exception just made in his favor. Her thoughts were not with Allan +Reid. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DONALD PLEASES HIS FATHER + + "The songs our souls rejoiced to hear + When harps were in the hall; + And each proud note made lance and spear + Thrill on the banner'd wall. + + "God sent his singers upon earth, + With songs of sadness and of mirth. + That they might touch the hearts of men + And bring them back to heaven again." + + +The Minister had said he would go and read awhile, and Mrs. Caird had +heard him unpacking the box of books that had arrived. But at that hour +he went no further than to arrange them conveniently on a table at his +side. He was too utterly amazed at Mrs. Caird's admitting that she had +read criticisms and reviews of books she considered objectionable for +himself. He remembered then, what he had only casually observed during +all the years she had dwelt with him, that Jessy Caird was never without +a book in her work-basket. But he had noticed on all of them the cover +and the mark of the public library, and had felt certain they were +novels. And, as the children were at schools and she much alone, he had +been considerate in the matter and not asked any questions. How could he +suspect that such objectionable literature was lying openly among her +knitting and mending? + +As he made this reflection, his eyes sought the volumes lying on the +table, and he noticed that his Bible was close to them. Its familiar +aspect brought a warm, comfortable sense to his heart. It was surely the +Word of His Father in heaven. He leaned forward and laid his head +affectionately upon it. What a Friend it had been to him! What a +Counselor! In every way he had such a tremendous prepossession in its +truth and blessing that he could smile defiantly at any man, or any +man's book, being able to make him doubt a tittle of its law or its +promises. + +"The heavens and the earth may pass away," he said, "but not one word of +God shall perish!" And, though he spoke softly, as to his own heart, the +affirmation was hot with the love and fervor that thrilled the words +through and through. In a few moments he rose, lifted the Book with +tender homage, and laid it on a small table holding nothing but one +white moss rose in a slender crystal vase. He did it without intention, +actuated by a sudden spiritual reverence for holy things. + +But as soon as the transfer was accomplished he began to reason about +it. "Why did I remove the Bible?" he asked himself. He was not sure why, +but he _was_ sure that the impulse to do so had been a good and proper +one. + +"There is no book that looks like it in all the world," he thought. "It +belongs to the Sanctuary. It is the Sanctuary in itself. How could I +leave it among books that doubt and perhaps revile it?" Then his glance +fell upon the books to which he had attributed a crime so likely and so +heinous, and he continued his reflections. + +"How commonplace and similar they look! They might be text-books, or +novels, or even poetry. But God has set his mark upon the Bible. We +cannot mistake it. Printed in any size or shape, bound in any color or +any material, we know the moment our eyes fall upon it that it is the +Word of God." + +However, it is easy for the mind to find a ready road from spiritual to +personal things, and it was not long before Lord Cramer had possession +of the Minister's meditations. There appears to be no relevancy between +the Bible and Lord Cramer, but Thought has swift and secret passages, +and perhaps the way had been through the discredited books; for he was +thinking of the young nobleman with much the same feelings as he had +given the doubtful and objectionable volumes. He had felt them to be +unworthy to lie on the same table with the Bible. He was equally certain +that Lord Richard Cramer was unworthy to lift his eyes to Marion Macrae, +and quite as positive that he intended to do so. + +"Marion must marry Allan Reid," he decided. "It is for her happiness +every way. What profit is there in a title, if its holder is too poor to +honor it? Young Reid is rich, and will be rich enough to buy a title if +he wants one. Moreover, Lord Richard is not like his father in a +religious sense. Lord Angus Cramer--my friend--was present at divine +service as long as he was able to be so. Lord Richard does not observe +the Sabbath. His stepmother is troubled at his attitude toward the +Church. Such a man is not fit to be _my_ son-in-law--a man who does not +keep the Sabbath! The idea is an impossible one! Allan Reid fills his +place every Sabbath in the Church of the Disciples. To be honorable, and +rich, and to keep the Sabbath! These are the three cardinal points of a +respectable and religious life, and Marion must be made to accept them." +Yet he felt quite sure that, at that very moment, Lord Richard Cramer +was thinking of his daughter, and almost equally sure that Marion was +thinking of Richard Cramer. + +In a measure Macrae was correct. Lord Cramer was thinking of Marion, but +he was telling himself it was only in a philosophical way. Sitting +smoking on the lawn in the late twilight, he was curiously asking his +heart the question so many ask, "Why is it that, out of the thousands of +persons we meet, only one can rouse in us the tremendous passion of a +first true love?" Yet, in whatever manner Richard Cramer tried to reason +with himself, he was quite aware that something had happened that +afternoon that could never be satisfied by any reasoning. + +He would not believe it was love. Yet he had an extraordinary elation, +his heart beat rapidly, and he was in a fever of longing and wonderment +about the girl he had just met. He thought he knew all about women, but +Marion was quite different, and she had called into life something +deeper down than he had ever felt before. He was dreamy and yet +restless, he was strangely happy, and yet strangely unhappy. Ah, though +he would not admit it, the poignant thirst and exquisite hunger of a +great love were beginning to trouble him. + +He knew, however, that he could not run blindly into such a life-long +affair as wooing the Minister's daughter. It might prove to be the +dislocation of all his plans and prospects. Debt weighed heavily on him, +especially his debt to his stepmother. So long as he owed her a shilling +he was not his own master. He had been a gallant cavalry officer, but +not averse to relinquish the limitations of that position for the title +and estate that had fallen to him. Yet he could not keep up the state +necessary unless he married a rich woman. He had promised his father to +do this, and had almost resolved to try his fortune with Miss Victoria +Marvel, the heiress of an immensely wealthy banker, and a young and +lovely woman. This night, however, Miss Marvel was far beyond his +horizon; he could think of no woman in all his world but Marion Macrae. + +A week after Lady Cramer's call at the Little House, she came again and +took Marion back with her to Cramer Hall for a visit. It was a pleasure +to see the beautiful girl depart with her, for so much joyful +expectation filled her heart that it transfigured her whole person, and +she smiled so brightly, and stepped so lightly, that she seemed at that +hour just a little above mortality. And the brilliant sunshine, and the +calling of the cuckoo birds, the scent of flowers, and the breath and +murmur of the sea, appeared to be just the natural atmosphere of her +happy soul that wonderful June morning. + +Lady Cramer chatted pleasantly as they drove over the brae and by the +seashore, until they reached the large, plain, Georgian mansion called +Cramer Hall. It was only remarkable for its size, and for the great +extent and beauty of its gardens and park. As they neared the dwelling, +Marion saw Lord Cramer descending the flight of steps which led to its +principal entrance. She saw him coming to her! She felt him clasp her +hand! She heard him speaking! But all these things took place to her in +a delightful sense of semiconsciousness. She knew not what she said. +Words were so dumb and inconsequent. Truly we have all confessed at +times, "I had no words to express my feelings." Shall we ever in this +life find words for our divinest moments? Or must we wait for their +expression until Love and Death, + + "Open the portals of that other land, + Where the great voices sound, and visions dwell." + +Marion was only too glad to reach the room prepared for her, and to sit +still and draw herself together; for happiness really dissipates the +inner personality, and squanders the richest and rarest of our feelings. +It was an antique room, full of the most beautiful, world-forgotten old +furniture, one piece of richly carved oak being a cheval glass that +showed her Marion Macrae from head to feet. And, in some way, these +material household things calmed and steadied her. + +Now let those who have truly loved tell themselves how time went by in +this Eden home for Richard and Marion. True, nothing strange or +startling marked its passage, only a delightful monotony of events usual +and looked forward to. They rode, and read, and sang, they wandered +about the house and garden, talking such divinity as only lovers +understand. If there was company they kept much apart, and spoke little +to each other, but every one present knew they were _really one_. For +Love and Beauty create an atmosphere of ethereal union to which even +those ossified by a material life are not quite insensible. + +Lady Cramer indeed affected ignorance, but she was well aware of what +was going on. She had anticipated it and, because she knew her stepson's +disposition so well, had planned this very intimacy, feeling certain it +would easily dissipate the light, roving fancy of the young man. She had +so often seen him fall desperately in love, and so often seen him fall +coldly and wearily out of it, and that with women whom she considered +vastly superior to Marion in every respect. When she asked Marion to +Cramer Hall, she believed that one week's unchecked intercourse would +find Richard called to Edinburgh or London on very important business. +When he received no such call she invited Marion to extend her visit for +another week. In her opinion, it would be an incredible thing for +Richard Cramer to live his life from morning to night for two weeks with +the same girl and not utterly exhaust his fancy for her. At the end of +two weeks, finding him still enraptured with "the same girl," she +invited Marion for the third week, telling herself, as she did so: "If +he stands three weeks of this absurd entanglement, there will have to be +some strong measures taken. In the first place I shall speak to the +Minister." + +Now the Minister was much displeased at this second extension of his +daughter's visit, and he wrote to her concerning it, saying, "A third +week's visit is most unusual. I am troubled and angry at your acceptance +of it. You are imposing on Lady Cramer's kindness, and I do not think it +was at her wish this third invitation was given. I hope it was not your +doing. Come home, without fail, immediately on its termination." + +Acting on Mrs. Caird's advice, he had kept away from the Hall during +Marion's visit. "There are a lot of young people coming and going +between Cramer Hall and the neighboring gentry," she said, "and they do +not want the Minister's company unless it be to marry them. I know the +Blair girls, with their brother, Sir Thomas, were there two or three +days; and I heard the young people were walking quadrilles on the lawn, +and playing billiards in the house. Moreover, Starkie was in the kitchen +the other day, and he told Aileen that Lady Geraldine Gower--who is a +perfect horsewoman--was putting Marion and her pony through their paces; +and I am feared for such ways--he said also, that the Macauleys were +with them, and Captain Jermayne from the Edinburgh garrison." + +"Marion ought not to be in such company." + +"Marion is good enough for any company." + +"That is allowed. I was thinking of her being led into temptation." + +"Think of yourself, Ian, you are in far greater temptation than Marion +will ever have to face. Did you notice a book lying open on the small +table in your study?" + +"No." + +"I want you to notice it. I left it lying face downward purposely. If +you lift it carefully, you will see that I have marked a few lines. Read +them." + +"_Lines!_ Poetry, I suppose! Jessy, I have not time to read outside my +present work." + +"They are directly inside of your work." + +"I wish you would drive over to Cramer, and say a few words of counsel +to Marion." + +"I will not, Ian. Marion must learn how to counsel herself. She is now +in a fine school to learn that lesson, and she will come home _dux_ of +her class when it is closed." + +He was turning toward his study as Mrs. Caird spoke, and he was closing +the door as her last words reached him, "Read what I have marked, Ian." + +He said to himself that he would not read it. Jessy required to be put a +little more in her proper place. She had advised him too much lately, +and he felt that she ought to wait until asked for her opinion on +subjects belonging particularly to his profession. Her attitude was +subversive of all recognized authority. + +So he looked at the book lying on the table, but did not lift it. He was +the more determined not to read the marked "lines" because Jessy had +left the book face downward. She knew that this habit of hers seriously +annoyed him, and that she had calculated on this annoyance making him +lift the book and so in straightening the pages see the marked passage. +He told himself that this was taking an unfair advantage of one of his +most innocent peculiarities. He was resolved not to sanction it. + +But the book lying on its face vexed and even troubled him. It might be +a good book, the mental abode of some wise man, who had pressed his +finest hopes and thoughts on its white leaves. He could neither read nor +write with that fallen volume before him. For he was so used to listen +with his eyes to the absent or dead who spoke to him in a low +counterpoint that he could not avoid a feeling that he was treating a +visitor, whether friend or foe, with great unkindness. + +He rose and he sat down, then rose again, and, with a resolved attitude, +lifted his prostrate friend or enemy. One leaf was crumpled and, when +he had smoothed it carefully out, he saw a passage enclosed in strong +pencil lines. So he walked to his desk and, taking a piece of rubber, +erased with pains and caution the indexing marks, nor did he read one +word of the message the book brought him until he had set it free to +advise, or reprove, or comfort him, according to its tenor. Then the +words that met his eyes, and never again left his memory, were the +following: + + "Let lore of all Theology + Be to thy soul what it _can_ be; + But know--the Power that fashions man + Measured not out thy little span + For thee to take the meeting rod + In turn, and so approve to God + Thy science of Theometry." + +Many times over he read this message, and then he sat with the book in +his hand, lost in thought. + +But of the tenor of these thoughts he said nothing; yet Mrs. Caird was +satisfied. If he had not read the lines, she knew he would have told her +so, and, having read them, they could be left without discussion. He was +in a less moody spirit all the rest of the week, and spoke to her +several times of the hopeless discouragement involved in Comte's scheme +of "supreme religion," a mere possibility of posthumous though +unconscious "incorporation with the _Grand Etre_ himself," said he. + +"Well, we are not on holy ground with Comte, Ian, and we need not take +off our shoes," answered Mrs. Caird. "This _Grand Etre_, this Great +Being, is made up of little beings--yourself and I for instance." + +"And yet, Jessy, Comte does not think all men worthy even of this honor. +Vast numbers will remain in a parasitic state on this Grand +Being--really burdens on him, Comte says." + +"O Ian! What a poor unhappy God! Put your thoughts on the first ten +words in Genesis. Consider their infinite sublimity and simplicity. In +the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. This God is our +God, and He has been, and will be our dwelling place in, and for, all +generations, _Our Father_! The weakest souls are not parasites or +burdens to Him. Like a father He pities them." + +"You are relying on the Bible, Jessy. It does not enter into Comte's +scheme, and indeed what is called scientific religion discredits the +Book generally." + +"The Bible was not printed yesterday, Ian. Its assailants come and go, +come and go, but it stands unmoved forever. With what new weapons can it +be attacked? You told me yesterday that Strauss thought he had abolished +Paul, and that Ewald answered there was nothing new in Strauss. As far +as I can see, the giants of unbelief slay each other, while the Bible +goes on to blend itself with the thought and speech of every land under +the sun." + +Such conversations became frequent between the Minister and his sister. +He appeared to provoke and enjoy them. And he looked with a kind +curiosity at this woman who had sat nearly twenty years on his hearth, +nursing his children, ordering his household, sewing, knitting, telling +fairy tales, and yet pondering in her heart the highest questions of +time and eternity. The facts violated all his conceptions of women, and +one day, after a very vivid illustration of this kind, he said softly to +himself, yet with intense conviction: + +"Women are inscrutable creatures! I doubt if I know anything about +them." And perhaps these very words were "the call" for the wider and +sadder knowledge that awaited him. + +On Saturday he prepared to go to Glasgow to fulfil his usual duty in the +Church of the Disciples; but his study of unbelief had got a stronger +hold on his mind than he recognized. For the first time in all his +ministry he felt a slight reluctance for spiritual work. But Mrs. Caird +did not encourage this feeling, she was too anxious about Donald to miss +his father's report of him, though she always discounted the same. But +she reminded him for his comfort that when he returned from Glasgow on +Monday he would find Marion at home to welcome him. + +"I expect that," he answered promptly. "If I am disappointed I shall go +to Cramer Hall for her." + +However, very early on Monday morning Mrs. Caird saw Marion and Lord +Cramer from afar, riding very slowly over the brae and, apparently, +engaged in a conversation that admitted of none of the little +irregularities of light or fugitive intercourse. Their attitude as they +came nearer was distinctly, though unconsciously, that of lovers; and +when Mrs. Caird met them she saw with delight the sunshine on their +faces, mingling with a glory and radiance far sunnier from within; and +heard the pride and tenderness in Lord Cramer's voice as he said, "Good +morning, Mrs. Caird, I have brought Marion safely back to you." + +"You have done well," she answered. "The Minister was wearying for her." + +"How soon will he return from Glasgow? I wish to speak with him." + +"His times are not set times; he comes this hour, and that hour. He +deviates a good deal and, as for speech with him, you had better choose +any day but Monday." + +"Why not Monday, Mrs. Caird?" + +"Because a Minister's stock of loving kindness is apt to be low on +Monday, and he is tired and not disposed to frivol, or talk of unsacred +things." + +"But I want to talk to him of the most sacred of all mortal things. I am +sure Dr. Macrae will be reasonable on any day of the week." + +"There is a likelihood, but I have lived long enough in this astonishing +world to observe that the head and the heart do not run over at the same +time; and men keep their reasonable judgment the while. There's luck in +leisure, Lord Cramer. Take my advice and leisure awhile." + +Then Lord Cramer led Marion to the little summer house, and Mrs. Caird +left them to give some orders concerning lunch, but when it was ready +she saw Cramer riding away from the gate, and Marion, still in her +habit, standing there watching him. Hearing her aunt's footsteps she +turned, went to her side and, kissing her, said, "Dear Aunt, I am glad +to be with you again." + +"Then we are both glad, and your father will be glad also. Run upstairs +and take off your hat and that width of trailing broadcloth. Then come +and get a good lunch." + +In a few minutes Marion appeared at the table in the simplest of her +home dresses and, with a sigh of pleasure, said again, "Oh, but I am +glad to be with you, Aunt!" + +"Yet you had a happy time at Cramer Hall?" + +"Richard was there. That was enough." + +"And many other pleasant people?" + +"Yes." + +"And Lady Cramer?" + +"I do not think she had a nice time. She was weary of company, and it +was an effort for her to be quite polite during the last week." + +"You ought, then, to have come home." + +"I had no excuse for doing so." + +"And you had an excuse for staying, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"Lord Cramer?" + +"He begged me to stay. And, as I am going to marry him, I did what he +desired, of course." + +"Of course. And, of course, you will do what your father desires?" + +"If Father is reasonable." + +"The Fifth Command says you are to obey your father, and it does not +make any exceptions as to whether he is reasonable or unreasonable." + +"I intend to marry Richard, and no other man in all the wide world." + +"You do not require to be so pointed about it. There is no one here +wishes to prevent you." + +"No one can prevent me, Aunt. I love Richard and he loves me. We fell in +love with each other the moment we met." + +"That is the right way. I like men that go over head and ears at first +sight. Most take little careful steps, hesitating, fearing, one at a +time. Cowardly lovers! No woman wants such. She just looks scornfully at +them, and then turns her eyes toward something pleasanter." + +All afternoon they talked on this and kindred subjects, and the time +went so rapidly that the clock struck five before Mrs. Caird reflected +that the Minister was two or three hours behind his usual time. What was +keeping him? What was wrong? Then she began to worry about Donald; for, +if anything usual becomes unusual, our first thought is not--what is +right? or what is happy or profitable? but, always, what is wrong? And +Mrs. Caird's anxieties drifted to the youth she loved so dearly. + +"I wonder! I wonder whatever is wrong, Marion? Your father is always +home by three, or at most four o'clock. I am feared something is wrong +with Donald." And, in spite of Marion's optimistic persuasions, she was +constantly asking her heart this woeful question. From the door to the +gate she went with tiresome frequency, but it was after eight o'clock +ere she saw two men walking leisurely toward the house. The twilight was +over the earth, and nothing was very clear, but she knew them. Hurrying +into the house she called to Marion in a voice of great pleasure and +excitement: + +"Your father is coming! And Donald is with him! And what can that mean?" + +"Something good, Aunt." + +But Mrs. Caird did not hear her. She was ordering this and that luxury, +which she knew would be welcome to the belated travelers, and she had +the natural wisdom and good-nature which never once asked, "What kept +you so late?" She was satisfied with their presence, and with the fact +that both were happy, and in the most affectionate mood with each other. +She placed Donald's chair beside her own and, when he touched her hand, +or smiled in her face, or whispered, "Dear, dear Aunt!" she had a full +payment for all her anxious hours about him. + +It was not until Marion and Donald had gone to their rooms that the +Minister felt inclined to explain his tardy return from the city. "I was +afraid you would be anxious, Jessy," he said; and she answered, "Not +about you, Ian. I knew you were all right, but I was feared about +Donald. I thought something was wrong with him, and I could not fix on +any particular danger. I thought of the trains and the sea, but someway +they both assured my mind they were innocent of doing him any harm. The +trouble was an unknown one. What was it, Ian?" + +"Not much, Jessy. Donald has not been behaving himself after the ways +and manners approved of by the Reids." + +"I never yet heard any word of the Reids being set for our example. What +way was Donald breaking their laws?" + +"It seems, Jessy, that last Wednesday night there was some kind of civic +anniversary--the Provost's birthday, or the birthday of some great man +or other. I have totally forgotten the name or event. And serenading +came into the thoughts of Donald and four others, and they lifted their +violins and went together to the Provost's house. As it happened, he was +eating a late supper after his speech in the City Hall, and the lads +played and sang the songs in every Scotsman's heart. And there were +three or four of his cronies with the Provost and, when the lads had +sang twice over, + + 'Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,' + +they brought in the singers and made them sit and drink a glass of toddy +at their table, and the Provost thanked them heartily and gave them a +five-pound note to share between them." + +"That was fine! The Provost is a gentleman. And he knew how to win the +hearts of the Scotch laddies growing up to be good Scotchmen. Who were +the five lads, Ian?" + +"Donald was the leader, and there were with him Matthew Ballantyne, +David Kerr, John Montrose, and Allan Reid, all of them members of my +Wednesday night Bible class." + +"Then I cannot believe they did anything much out of the way, unless the +Reids' way is narrower than the Bible way." + +"After they left the Provost's, Donald suddenly bethought himself that +it was also his Uncle Hector's birthday, and they all went to his big +house in Blytheswood Square. There was a light in his parlor; for, you +know, he always reads until the new day is born, and this night he was +reading 'Nicholas Nickleby,' and laughing with himself over that insane +_Mark Tapley's_ pretenses to be jolly. Suddenly the violins asked +sweetly and passionately, 'Wha Wadna Fecht for Charlie'? The old man +took no notice. Then they all together began to merrily tell him, + + ''Twas up the craggy mountain, + And down the wooded glen, + They durst na go a-milking, + For Charlie and his men.' + +And by the time they had finished this delightful complaint, and Donald +had lifted his voice to assert that, + + 'Geordie sits in Charlie's chair,' + +and exhorted all true Hieland men, + + 'Keep up your hearts, for Charlie's fight, + Come what will, you've done what's right,' + +a crowd had gathered. For, you know, Jessy, how Donald can sing men out +of themselves, and the crowd began to sing with him, so that this +passionate little rant filled the square. Windows were lifted, and doors +flung open, and men and women at them joined heartily in the song." + +"And wherever were the constables?" + +"They were singing with the crowd, and no necessity for them to +interfere. It was a perfectly orderly crowd, singing their national +songs, and when they had finished + + 'Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,' + +and fervently assured each other they, + + 'For Scotland's King and law, + Freedom's sword would strongly draw, + Free men stand, and free men fa',' + +my Uncle Hector threw wide his door, and bid the lads into his parlor. + +"He is a grand old pagan--I mean saint." + +"Say what you mean, Jessy. Donald says he looked proudly at him, and he +thought for a moment he was going to kiss him, but instead of that +ceremony, which might have been a little abashing and confusing to the +lad, his uncle led him to the hearth and, pointing to two swords crossed +over the chimneypiece, he said: + +"'Look well at them, Hieland laddies! They were in the hands of +Alexander and Fergus Macrae when they fought to the death for King James +and Prince Charlie. God rest their souls!'" + +At these words the Minister became silent, words appeared to choke him, +and his eyes held a glimpse of the old dead world of his fathers. Jessy, +also, was speechless, but their silence was fitter than any words could +be. + +In a short time the Minister steadied himself and proceeded: "The four +young men with Donald doffed their bonnets, and looked silently at the +weapons that had come home red from Culloden's bloody field, and were +still holding the red rust of carnage; but Donald stretched up his hand +and touched them reverently, and then kissed his hand, and he told me +his tears wet the kiss, and that he was proud of them--and really, +Jessy, my own eyes were not dry--and a wave of--love came over me--and +I--before I knew it--had clasped Donald's hand and I think--yes, I am +sure, I kissed him! I wonder at myself! Whatever made me do it?" + +"The love of God, Ian, which is the love of all good and gracious +things. The love of God, which is the love of your son, and the love of +your country, and the love of all the noble feelings for which men dare +to die, and go and tell _Him_ so. And what next, Ian? What next?" + +"Uncle Hector called his valet, and bid him 'Bring in the punch bowl,' +but Donald said they had drank from the Provost's bowl all that was good +for them. The old man then asked them to play him a reel, and off went +'The Reel of Tullochgorum.' One of the boys from the orchestra played, +and the other four danced it with wonderful spirit and, though my uncle +did not try the springing step, he snapped the time with his fingers and +beat it with his feet and was in a kind of transfiguration. After the +dance they sang 'Auld Lang Syne' together, and then the old man was +weary with his emotion and he said: + +"'Good boys! Good night! You have given my old age one splendid hour of +its youth back again! My soul and my heart thank you, and here is a +ten-pound note to ware on yourselves and good Scotch music'; and so with +a 'God bless you all!' he bid them good-bye!" + +"It was a splendid hour and he did well to ware ten pounds on it." + +"Elder Reid did not think so and, after the Sabbath service, he asked me +to give him half-an-hour's conversation at his office in the morning. I +thought it was concerning Allan and Marion, but Donald, on Sabbath +night, told me about the serenade, and so I went to Reid's office in the +morning quite prepared for the subject of offense." + +"Did Elder Reid say anything about your uncle?" + +"He said only think of that old pagan, Hector Macrae, giving the ranting +boys ten pounds of good money!" + +"'_Major Macrae_,' I corrected. 'He won his title on memorable +battlefields, Elder, and he has every right to it.' And, I added, 'He is +far from being a pagan. I wish we all loved God as sincerely as he +does.' Then Reid cooled a little, and answered, 'You know, Minister, it +would have been almost a miracle if he had given ten pounds to our +Foreign Mission Fund. I asked him myself one day, and he pretended to be +deaf, and would say nothing but 'Eh? What? I don't hear you! I'm vera +busy!' and so to his bills and papers without even a 'Seat yourself, +Elder,' and not a penny for the Foreign Mission Fund.'" + +Jessy laughed, a queer, indeterminate little laugh, and the Minister +looked at her doubtfully, and then continued, "I reminded him that the +Major gave with both hands to our Home Missions, and that men gave as +their hearts moved them; also, that Christ considered Home Missions had +the prior claim, 'First at Jerusalem,' and so also first in Glasgow, and +then in India. 'We are getting off our subject,' I said to him and he +answered crossly, 'An altogether silly subject, kissing old swords, +dancing old reels, snapping fingers and the like of such old world +nonsense. I think Major Macrae forgot his duty, he should have +admonished the young men, and not encouraged them in their +foolishness.'" + +"What did you say to that, Ian?" asked Mrs. Caird. + +"I reminded him that, in Leviticus, nineteenth chapter and fourteenth +verse, it is written, 'Thou shalt not curse the deaf'; and I added, 'The +absent are also the deaf, they cannot speak for themselves. I need say +no more to you, Elder.' And he begged pardon, and admitted he might be +judging Major Macrae wrong, for it was true a great many people thought +him a perfect saint; and I said, 'You know, Elder, that a country is in +a poor way when its religious life does not blossom in saints.'" + +"Was Donald in the office when you went there?" + +"Yes, I saw him counting up a line of figures as I passed his desk, and +I felt sorry for the boy." + +"I am glad of that, Ian. It was the best sign of grace you have had for +a long time." + +"Do not say such a thing as that, Jessy. I love my son with my whole +heart. My life for his, if it were necessary." + +"Forgive me, Ian! I believe you. What was the Elder wanting to talk to +you about?" + +"He asked, first, if I had spoken plainly to Marion concerning his +son's offer. I told him I had no opportunity to do so, as she had been +visiting Lady Cramer for the past three weeks. Then he continued to urge +Allan's claims until I grew weary of the talk, and I finally said----" + +"That Marion must not be forced to marry anyone, surely you said that +much, Ian?" + +"Not quite that, Jessy. I promised to stand by Allan and to urge Marion +to favor him, but I added, 'There is a certain right, Elder, which draws +a girl to the _one man_ in the world for her. It is not much believed +in, but perhaps it is the only Divine Right in this world.' He seemed +puzzled at my remark, and I did not explain it. Then he was huffy, and +said he would make free to call my 'Divine Right' Richard Cramer, a poor +lord, with all his income mortgaged, and no morality to balance his +poverty." + +"You could have cleared yourself on that score. Why did you not tell him +you were as much against Lord Cramer as he could be?" + +"I was angry at the purse-proud creature, and I would say neither good +nor ill of Lord Cramer. I let him see, and feel, I thought his words and +temper very unbecoming in the Senior Elder of the Church of the +Disciples, and so left him feeling very uncomfortable." + +Then Jessy looked admiringly at her brother-in-law. She knew well how +"uncomfortable" he could make people under his Scriptural reproofs. + +"How was it Donald got home with you?" she asked. "Was the little favor +a propitiation for the Elder's unguarded temper? Did the Elder know he +was coming?" + +"As I left him, I said, 'I will tell Donald to meet me at Stewart's for +lunch, and I will give him suitable counsel, Elder'; and the man was on +his highest horse at once, and answered, 'I hope you will, sir. For your +sake, I should hate to send Donald off, but I must do so if he leads my +son into any more ridiculous tom-fooleries. Allan has a tender +conscience, and he felt he had done wrong, so he came straight to me and +made his confession. I hope Donald will be equally frank with you.'" + +"So Donald lunched with you at Stewart's? I am proud of that occurrence, +Ian." + +"I was proud likewise. There were over a dozen ministers present, and +they all looked up and looked pleased when we entered the room together. +Every one had a word of praise and hope for Donald, and nearly all said, +'You will be for St. Andrews, Donald, no doubt.' I am afraid I had more +personal pride in the lad's beauty, fine carriage, and fine manner than +I ought to have had, but----" + +"Not any too much. What advice did you give him?" + +"None of any kind. I do not think Donald did anything wrong. If Elder +Reid has fears for his son, let him look after him. I certainly told +Donald that the Elder would send him off if he tempted his son Allan +again; and perhaps I let Donald see and feel that I should not be +grieved at all if he relieved Mr. Reid's anxiety about his son's +morals." + +"Did Donald understand you?" + +"He said, 'Thank you, Father!' And then I remarked you were wearying to +see him, and that I would wait in Bath Street until three o'clock if he +wished to go to Cramer with me." + +"But did you not come by that train?" + +"No. I saw that Donald could not forego the pleasure of 'sending himself +off' and this he could not do until Reid returned to his office after +the lunch hour." + +"I hope he kept in mind the fact that Mr. Reid is your chief Elder, and +used few and civil words as became his youth and his position." + +"He behaved like a gentleman. He apologized for asking his son to join +the serenading party, and begged leave to resign his stool in the office +lest he might offend again. And the Elder was much annoyed, and replied +that he hoped he would remain; for, Jessy, I am sure he was in his heart +very proud of Allan being invited into the Provost's parlor to eat and +drink with the notables there." + +"Certainly he was, and he will talk of the lad's capers as long as he +lives, and in a little while both Allan and his father will have come to +believe that the whole affair was of Allan's planning and management." + +"I have no doubt of it. Donald, however, refused even his offer of a +higher salary to begin in September and, bowing respectfully, left him +alone with his disappointment and chagrin. As he was going through the +office, Allan called him, and then Donald's temper got a little beyond +his control, and he walked near to where Allan sat among the clerks, and +said, 'I have no words for a tale-bearer, Allan Reid. He is always a +contemptible fellow, and I warn you, gentlemen, that you are with a spy +and a mischief-maker.' That is the end of the circumstance, Jessy." + +"You little know whether it is the end or the beginning, Ian." + +"As far as Donald is concerned, I mean. He came to me radiantly happy +and satisfied with himself and, after we had drank a cup of tea, we came +leisurely home." + +"Very leisurely. I'll admit that. Well, we have to take ourselves as we +are and other people as we can get them, and it is not always an easy +job." + +"Indeed, Jessy, there is scarcely anything that is at the same time more +wise and more difficult." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE GREAT TEMPTATION + + "Love not, love not! Oh, warning vainly said, + In present years, as in the years gone by; + Love flings a halo round the dear one's head + Faultless, immortal--till they change or die." + + +It was a warm, sunny day in August, and the slim and graceful Adalaide, +Lady of Cramer, was waiting and watching for Dr. Macrae. She had a new +purpose in her heart, and it was evident not only in her eyes, which +were full of a soft blue fire--languid yet masterful--but also in her +dress, from which every trace of black had been eliminated. In a soft +flowing gown of white lawn and lace, with belt and bows of white satin, +she looked fresh and lovely as a flower on the day of its birth. + +"Take my book and work-basket to the Ladies' Rest, Flora," she said to +her maid, "and if there are callers, they may come to me. Tell Brodie to +attend them." + +The Ladies' Rest was a circle of wonderful turf in the very center of +which stood a gigantic oak, whose far-stretching branches kept the +circle in a dreamy, shadowy peace. Near the heart of the circle there +were seats, and a small table, and my Lady, standing in white on its +green turf, with the green and golden lights of the garden all around +her, was as fair a creature as mortal eyes could desire to see. + +When left alone her elfin prettiness became particularly noticeable, for +she was practicing her bewildering ways to her own thoughts, her manner +being at one moment arch and coquettish, and at the next pensive and +affectionate; practicing all her small facial arts with the +predeterminate aim and intention of capturing the hitherto impregnable, +insensible heart of the handsome Minister. + +He was quite unconscious of the danger into which he was walking, and +his thoughts were on the eternities, and the tremendous destinies that +are connected with them. The gravity induced by such thoughts was +becomingly dignified, and Lady Cramer thought him handsomer than even +her imagination had painted him. Certainly he was worth captivating, and +she was resolved to effect this purpose. Indeed she wondered at herself +for not having accomplished such a delightful triumph before. + +But, if she had honestly examined her dilatory movement in this +direction, she would have known that it was caused by facts brought +vividly to her notice during the past few weeks, when Cramer Hall had +been filled with company of a pleasantly mixed character--young nobles +and soldiers, and many types of beautiful and eligible young ladies. +Every one, then, had regarded her as a kind of matron, and she found all +her pretenses to be yet of the younger set quietly put aside. She was +admired and treated with the greatest respect, but no one made love to +her; and she was piqued and humbled by this neglect. + +"Because I am thirty-two," she said to herself, "because I am +thirty-two, I was treated like an old lady. The insolence of youth is +intolerable!" Then she heard steps upon the flagged walk and, turning, +saw the stately, rather somber figure of the man whose conquest she was +meditating approaching her. She met him with charming smiles, and little +fluttering attentions and, in words soft and hesitating, tried to hide, +and yet to express her great joy in his presence. "It is so long--so +long--since I saw you! I have felt desolate and, oh, so lonely!" + +"Lonely! You have had so much pleasant company." + +"But _you_ never came--not even when I wrote and asked you--did you know +how cruel you were? My company was young and thoughtless--no one cared +for me--I longed to see your face you never came--I have been very +lonely--but _now_! Oh, you cannot tell what a pleasure it is to have +someone to talk to who does not regard tennis and golf as the chief end +and duty of man," and she smiled and laid her jeweled white hand +confidingly on his. + +[Illustration: "She smiled and laid her jeweled white hand confidingly +on his"] + +He was much astonished, but also greatly touched, by her frankness and +evident joy in his presence; and, as any other man would have done, he +accepted her gracious kindness without doubt or consideration. Her +pretty face, full of sympathetic revelations, and her flattering words +went like wine to his head and heart, his eyes dilated with pleasure, +and he clasped the hand she had laid upon his own. Its soft warmth, its +slight pressure, the tender smile on her lips, the love light in her +eyes, were to his starving soul irresistible temptations. But he never +thought of these things as temptations; if he had done so, there was in +him a Will gigantic enough to have put them behind him. As a man dying +of thirst would have seized a glass of cold water, so his soul, +famishing for love, took hastily, greedily, the astonishing blessing +offered him. Scarcely could he believe in his happiness; yet fast, oh, +so fast, he forgot everything before this hour! And when he left Cramer +it was with his heart like a spring brimming over with love. + +Under the sweet strength of the stars he walked home. He felt that he +could not meet Mrs. Caird until he had communed with himself in the +silence and solitude of the night. His whole life, without his +expectation or conscious desire, had been changed. Something wonderful +had taken place. He thought he had loved before, but this startling, +unforeseen, and unmistakable passion filled him with rapture and a kind +of sacred fear. He had in no way sought it. By some Power far above him +it had been sent. Yet his beating heart, his strange joy, his firm step, +active brain, and glad outlook on life taught him that all the long +years of his ascetic rejection of love must have been a mistake. + +When he reached home he had not decided whether it would be prudent to +tell his sister-in-law of the new joy that had come into his life. His +nature was reticent, and he felt a keen personal pleasure in the secrecy +of his love. He did not dream of her suspecting or discovering it. He +found her sitting on the little porch absolutely idle. He was astonished +at the circumstance, and more so at her face and manner, which were both +sad and weary. + +"Are you sick, Jessy," he asked, "or have I stayed too long at the +Hall?" + +"You are sooner home than I expected. How are all there?" + +"No one is there at present but Lady Cramer. We had dinner together, and +I came away as soon as I could well leave. She is very lonely." + +"So am I, for that matter." + +"Marion is with you." + +"In a way, not much. Her heart is at Oban or thereabout." + +"Lady Cramer told me that Lord Cramer and Donald had gone on a tramp +together. They are walking through the western highlands. It did not +please me." + +"And why not?" + +"Because it is strengthening Donald's love of adventure and change. I +wanted him to rest quietly here until we returned to Glasgow. Then I +hoped he would be willing and glad to enter St. Andrews, and to settle +down to the life I intended for him." + +"If he had stayed here, I think he would have regarded St. Andrews with +delight. The company of hundreds of young men, the pleasant city, and +the fine golf ground would make St. Andrews--after a month of this +place--a very Elysium of satisfaction." + +"I thought this place was like the Garden of Eden to you." + +"I don't blame Eve, if it is. All right for a settled woman like me, and +yet I, myself, am missing my afternoon callers and the library. And the +two lasses are growing surly for want of company. Aileen was saying an +hour ago that, 'If there was only a constable, and a hand-organ passing +now and then,' she could bear the loneliness better." + +"As for me, I like it more and more. I am thinking of asking the Church +to get a supply for a month. I feel a little rest to be necessary." + +"I feel as if I had had enough of the country." + +"What does Marion say?" + +"She is as happy here as anywhere. All places are wearisome to those who +live for a person who is not in the place." + +"And Lady Cramer tells me that her stepson is miserable if he is not +with Donald. She says they are inseparable and very unhappy if apart." + +"Like to like, the wide world over." + +"But they are not alike." + +"You do not know your son. I do. But if you take a month's rest here, +you might get through that weary, useless reading of silly books and +sillier manuscripts." + +"I hope it is not useless reading, Jessy. Every book that discredits +scientific theology adds to the evidences of Christianity." + +Then Jessy lost control of herself, for she answered angrily, "Do you +think, Ian, that I have not read 'Evidences'? Let me tell you how I felt +after reading Paley's. I just thought it _probable_ that Christianity +_might_ be true. That was only an opinion, but let a man or woman _do_ +God's will, until He speaks within them like a living voice, and then +they will _know_ there is a God." + +"But, Jessy,----" + +"Don't interrupt me. I must tell you the truth. Upon my word, I believe +you are training yourself to the habit of doubting much and believing +little. You have dropped words lately I did not like, and I do not like +your selfishness about your children. I have always noticed, as +religious faith dies, selfishness takes the place of self-sacrifice. +There were the Dalrys! Their children were lost to everything good, +because they were forced to marry where they did not love. What have you +got to do with Marion's love? I wonder sometimes if you ever loved my +little sister! I am doubting it." + +"Jessy,----" + +"Yes, I am doubting it. You thought it no sin to urge her to leave +father and mother, and go away with yourself, though the Bible lays it +down as the _man's duty_ to leave father and mother for his wife's sake. +Marion wants to do nothing worse than you begged Agnes to do. There is a +change--a change for the worse--in you, Ian. I cannot just put my finger +on it, but I feel it. Yes, I feel it." + +"That may be so, Jessy. We all change, and no wrong done by it. We must +in some way carry about with us the aura of any book that takes +possession of our thoughts or feelings. The doubtful books I have been +reading so steadily have their own influence--perhaps not a good one." + +"A very bad one." + +"In a way, you are right, Jessy. It makes me unhappy and uncertain, and +with a strong insistence leads me from one skeptical writer to another. +I wish to destroy them all!" + +"Ian, you are not the man appointed to destroy the devil. Keep yourself +out of his power, and leave the devil and all his books to God +Almighty." + +"Many of these skeptical books show a reverent spirit, Jessy." + +"I will not believe that. As far as I can judge, they are altogether +destructive. They have no business in this room, though in the libraries +of hell they ought to be given high place and honor." + +"The libraries of hell! What an idea!" + +"A very reasonable one. There are books that have slain more souls than +any man could slay--but----" + +"O Jessy, Jessy! Doubts will come, even if you fight them on your +knees--will come to thoughtful men and women; and doubt can only be +cured by investigation." + +"As far as I can see, the doubt of all Doubters is just the same, and +the Book of Job contains as much philosophy of that kind as the world is +ever likely to come to. But I notice that, as soon as doubting gets +hold of a man, he will believe anything, so long as it is _not_ in the +Bible." + +"The 'Evidences of Christianity'----" + +"Ian, I have no patience with you. If there is anything plain and clear +in the religious teachings of the Bible, it is that religion proves +itself. Spiritual things are spiritually discerned, not intellectually. +If a man has had a good dinner, he knows it; there is no need to argue +about the matter. If a soul thirsts after righteousness and drinks of +the Waters of Life, it knows it, and is happy and satisfied; it does not +want evidences that it is so." + +"You are right, Jessy, but what is the matter with you to-night? You are +very queer--I may say 'cross.'" + +"I am neither queer nor cross. This afternoon, for a few moments, I lost +my bodily senses, and found _myself_--and I saw a black cloud coming +straight to our house--coming as if it knew just where to go--as if it +had been sent. And it entered the house, and I came to myself in a dream +and sweat of terror; and I am feared for my children, for they are heart +of my heart. And your selfish way with them both is enough to call some +tragedy, a deal worse than a marriage that does not suit you, or the +taking of his own way by a good, brave lad who is sure not to take a +wrong way, though it may not be the one you prefer." + +"Marion has no knowledge of the world, and it is my duty to stand +between her and the world." + +"Marion loves Richard Cramer, and if she is willing to thole his temper +and all the rest of his shortcomings, it is likely her appointed way +toward perfection--it seems to be God's commonest way of training women. +You do not require to bear with Cramer in any way. He will not trouble +you, for there is no doubt he thinks you as selfish and disagreeable as +you think him." + +"I dislike Lord Cramer for his immoralities." + +"God puts up with what you call his 'immoralities,' and I think you need +not be so strict to mark iniquity--if there is any. In my opinion, +Cramer is as good as the rest of men--fond of women's company, of +course, and, like Donald, daft about music and fine singing, but what +good man is not?" + +"As for Donald, I only ask him to walk in my own footsteps." + +"They are over-narrow for him." + +"Nevertheless, he shall tread in them or make his own way. I have money +to send him to St. Andrews and give him every advantage. He can go there +next month--or he can go to the ends of the earth." + +"Then he will go to the ends of the earth. But take heed to my words, +Ian Macrae, you will not escape the sorrow of it. However you may try +to comfort yourself, you will not be able to forget the loving, +handsome lad who stands at your side to-day like a vision of your own +youth." + +"I had a very happy afternoon, and you have completely spoiled it, +Jessy." + +"You can have a happy afternoon to-morrow, and every day, if you wish +it, but if you ruin your children's lives you can never, never undo that +wrong. Have some pity on yourself, if you have none on them." + +"I will not be bullied into doing what I know to be unwise, Jessy. I am +considering the whole life of my children, not a few weeks or months of +youth's illusory dreams and temptations. Donald, as a man, will have the +privilege of making a choice; as for Marion, I shall insist on her +accepting a marriage which will shelter her as far as possible from all +the ills of life." + +"Do you mean that you will make her marry that lying, sneaking, +tale-telling cub, Allan Reid?" + +"Certainly. His faults grew out of his jealousy of Donald's beauty and +cleverness. He confessed his fault to me and I forgave him. All stands +as it stood before that disagreeable evening. He said Donald was very +scornful and provoking. I can believe it." + +"I hope he was." Then she laughed, and added, with an air of +satisfaction: "Donald has a way of his own. He can be very civil, and +very unbearable. I have seen him----," and she laughed again at the +memory. + +"I am going to my room, Jessy. I have said all I have to say on these +subjects." + +"Will you have some bread and milk first?" + +"No. I had an excellent dinner. It was late also. You have made me +wretched, Jessy." + +"I am sorry, Ian. But, as it concerns the children, we are pulling at +opposite ends of the rope." + +"They are _my_ children. You will kindly remember that fact, Mrs. +Caird." He spoke with a haughty determination and left her without even +his usual perfunctory "good night." She was troubled by his somewhat +unusual show of temper, and the noble repose of the night had no note of +comfort for her. The silence of the far-receding mountains, the murmur +of the streams, the air of lonely pastoral melancholy, with a light like +dreamland lying over all, did not help her wounded feelings. The Scot +does not ask Nature for comfort in any heart sorrow; there is the Book, +and the God of his Fathers. But Jessy Caird had not yet arrived at the +point where she felt her exigencies beyond her own direction. + +In a few minutes she saw Dr. Macrae light his room, and through its open +window there came the odor of a fine cigar. "After the manner of men," +she muttered. "They don't permit a woman to smoke--if she is worried or +ill-tempered--it is not ladylike. And I'm wondering what improves its +manners so as to make it gentleman-like. Men are selfish creatures, all +of them, not one good, no, not one!" + +Then she rose and rather noisily locked the door; she hoped that Dr. +Macrae would hear her, and so come and attend to what he considered his +duty when at home. But Dr. Macrae was lying on the sofa smoking and +dreaming of Lady Cramer's beauty, and that night he did not care who +locked the door. The huge key turned, the bolts slipped into their +places, and she went upstairs, full of indignation at her +brother-in-law. She could not understand his mood; for she remembered +that in spite of the gravity of the subjects on which they had disagreed +there was an air of yawning and boredom about him. It was evident to her +that they were intruding on some subject much more interesting. + +At that hour she was trying to find out what really filled her with +forebodings. Little wondering, wandering thoughts about some change in +her brother-in-law had flitted for two weeks in and out of her +consciousness. But all his slight deviations from the natural and usual +were as nothing in comparison with the change she perceived this night. +Then, in the midst of her trifling suppositions, there was suddenly +flashed across her mind a few words she never doubted: "_He is in love +with Lady Cramer! He intends to marry her!_" + +The clue had been given and she followed it out. She thought she now saw +clearly why Macrae was so determined to marry Marion to Allan Reid. He +was going to marry into the Cramer family himself, and it would be most +disturbing and confusing if Marion did the same. It would be too much. +Though there was no legal barrier, there was a positive social one, so +vigilantly deterrent, indeed, that she was sure no such case had ever +been brought to the Minister's notice; and then she speculated a while +as to what would have been his action under the circumstances. + +As she slowly undressed she continued her relentless examination of the +supposed condition. "Why," she said to herself, "the silly jokes that +would be made about the relationships following the double marriage +would be just awful. Even his elders and deacons would hardly refrain +themselves. They would give him some sly specimens of their wit--and +serve him right, too; and I know well there are families in the Church +of the Disciples who would not feel sure in their particular consciences +whether such close marriages were quite right in the sight of God. They +will think, anyway, that the Minister ought to have been more careful +to avoid the appearance of evil, and they will be 'so sorry' and ask for +explanations, and say it is 'really so confusing.' Yes, I can see and +hear the great congregation of the Church of the Disciples all agog +about the Minister's queer marriage. As for myself, I shall tell any +unmarried man or woman who says what I don't like 'to look after their +own marriages'; and, if they are married, I will tell them to 'mind +their own business'; but this, or that, the clash and clatter will drive +a proud man like Ian to distraction. True, he is proud enough to strike +them dumb with a look. I'll never forget seeing him walk up to the +pulpit that Sabbath after he was made a D.D., and I mind well how he was +so dignified that pretty Martha Dean called him '_a procession of One_.' +The Church was down at his feet that day--and if he should marry my +Lady! I'll go into no surmises--things will be as ordered." + +Thus she followed her thoughts backward and forward until the night grew +chilly; then she began again her preparations for sleep, saying softly +to herself as she did so: "I am a wiser woman to-night than I was in the +morn. I know now why my poor little Marion is to be made to marry Allan +Reid, and, moreover, why her selfish father wants the marriage +immediately. It is to prevent the joking about his own marriage, for if +she got into the Cramer family first it would take a deal of courage to +marry his daughter's mother-in-law. My goodness! What a lot of quiet fun +and pawky jokes there would be passing round. I must talk it out with +Marion in the morning. I am going to sleep now--sleeping must go on, +whether marrying does--or not." + +In some respects Mrs. Caird's theory was wrong. It was likely that Dr. +Macrae had some nascent, unacknowledged admiration for Lady Cramer, but +never until that day had he hoped to marry her. Marriage had been so +long and so resolutely barred from his thoughts and feelings that it +took the encouragement of Lady Cramer to bring it to recognition in his +hopes and desires--so the selfishness Mrs. Caird presupposed had not +been in any way as yet conscious to him. The situation was sure to +present itself, but it had not yet done so. It was probable, also, that +it would affect him precisely as it affected Mrs. Caird, but how he +would meet or baffle it no one could say. A man in love cannot be +measured by those perfectly sane and cool; besides, love has secret keys +with which to meet difficulties. + +Mrs. Caird had determined to sleep well, but she was restless and had +disturbing dreams, for, + + "No tight-shut doors, or close-drawn curtains keep + The swarming dreams out, when we sleep." + +And the calm freshness and beauty of the morning almost irritated her. +What did Nature care that she was unhappy, that she had painful puzzles +to solve, and the very unpleasant inheritance from yesterday to dispose +of? Still she was disposed to be reasonable, if others were. But Dr. +Macrae was neither ready nor wishful to bring questions so important to +a hurried and already inharmonious discussion. At that hour the affair +between Lady Cramer and himself was more hopeful than settled, her +affection being of a tentative rather than of an actual character. She +was as yet experimenting with her own heart, and the Minister's heart +was a necessary part of the trial, while his sublime confidence in her +little coquetries amused her. + +Breakfast was usually a very pleasant meal, but this morning all were +reserved and silent. Dr. Macrae knew the value of a cool indifference, +and he took refuge in that mood. Nothing interested him, he was lost in +thought, he answered questions in monosyllables, and placed himself +beyond conciliation in any form. Even Marion's remarks passed unheeded, +though his heart failed him when she laid her small hand on his and +asked softly, + +"Are you sick, dear Father?" + +"No," he answered, "I am in trouble." + +"Can I help you, Father? What is it? Tell me, dear." + +"I have brought up children, and they have rebelled against me." His +voice was sad and low with the pathetic reproach, and he rose with the +words and went to his study. Marion, with a troubled face, turned to her +aunt. + +"What is the matter?" she asked. + +"Come with me to my room, dear, and I will tell you what he means." + +"I think I know what he means," she replied as soon as they were alone. +"He is cross because I will not marry Allan Reid." + +"Can you not manage it, Marion? He has set his heart on that marriage." + +"I would rather die. You said you would stand by me." + +"So I will." + +"Why is Father so cruel to me?" + +"Because he wants, I think, to marry Lady Cramer." + +"Would you go away from Father in that case?" + +"Would I not?" + +"I should go with you, of course." + +"That stands to reason." + +"How do you know, Aunt? I mean, about Lady Cramer?" + +"I had a sure word. I do not doubt it." + +"Did my father tell you?" + +"No. It is a new thing yet; only a mustard seed now, but it will grow +to a great tree. It might have happened yesterday." + +"Longer ago than that, Aunt, at least on Lady Cramer's side. When I was +staying at the Hall she was cross because he did not come, and she +wanted to send for him, but Richard would not let her." + +"Why then?" + +"Because he said the company they had would be an offense to the +Minister, and the Minister would be unwelcome to the other guests. I +must write and tell Richard your suspicion. It may affect his +prospects." + +"No doubt it will, but, if he could marry you at once, it might prevent +the other marriage." + +"I see not how nor why." + +Then Mrs. Caird went pitilessly over the sensation the double marriage +would make not only socially, but in the Church of the Disciples. She +put into the mouths of its elders, deacons and members the foolish jibes +and jokes they would be sure to make. The riddling and laughter and +comedy sure to flow from the situation were vividly present to her own +imagination, and she spared Marion none of the scorn and indignation +they would evoke. + +"Just think, Marion," she continued, "of your father having to thole all +this vulgar tomfoolery--he, that never sees a flash of humor, however +broad and plain it may be. Some men would just laugh, and let the jokes +go by, but not so your father. They would be words in earnest to him, +and every word would be a whip lash. He would fret and fume and worry +himself into a brain fever, or he would fall into one of his miraculous +passions with some laughing fool, and there would be tragedy and ruin to +follow." + +Marion did not speak, but she was white as the white dress she wore. +Mrs. Caird looked at her and was not quite pleased with her attitude. +She had expected tears or anger, and Marion gave way to neither, but her +silence and pallor and a certain proud erectness of her figure spoke for +her. At this hour she was startlingly like her father. She had put +herself completely in his place, and was moved just as he would have +been by her aunt's scornful picture of the Church of the Disciples in a +jocular insurrection. So she looked like him. Quick as thought and +feeling, the soul had photographed on the plastic body the very +presentment of Ian Macrae. Her erect figure, her haughty manner, her +scornful and indignant expression, and her large dark eyes, full of +reproach, but quite tearless, were exactly the symptoms which he would +have manifested if subjected to a like recital. For it is the expression +of the human face, rather than its features, which makes its identity. +The face enshrined in our hearts, which comes to us in dreams, when it +has long moldered in the grave, is not the mechanical countenance of the +loved one--it is its abstract idealization, its essence and life--it is +the spirit of the face. + +Mrs. Caird was astonished. It was a Marion she did not expect, but after +a few moments' silence she said, "You can see your father's position, +child?" + +"Yes, I can see it and feel it, too. He would be distracted with the +gossip and the disgrace of it." + +"Well, then?" + +"I must prevent it." + +"Would you marry Allan Reid?" + +"No." + +"What will you do?" + +"Stand by my father whatever befall, if he will let me." + +"And Lord Cramer?" + +"We can wait." + +"But if you married at once, the onus of such a condition as I have +pointed out would be on your father, and he would not face it for any +living woman. That stands to reason." + +"It is nineteen years since my mother died. He has given all those years +to Donald and myself. He gave us _you_ for a mother, but he never gave +us a stepmother. He was good to us in that respect, and, though we may +not have known it, he may have had many temptations to alter his life +and he denied himself a wife for our sakes. I must stand by my father. +If he wishes to marry Lady Cramer, I will only express satisfaction in +his choice." + +"But if he insists on your marrying Allan Reid first?" + +"That I will not do. His hopes and desires are sacred to me. I shall +expect him to give to mine the same regard. I am sure he will do so. Why +do you not point out to him the results you have just made so plain to +me?" + +"Not I! I shall wash my hands of the whole affair. I wonder what kind of +mortals you Macraes are! I was trying to prepare some plain road for you +and your lover, and the thought of your father steps in between you and +you make him a curtsey, and say, 'Your will be it, Father.'" + +"Aunt, for a thousand years the father and the chief in my family have +been _one_. He has had the affection and the loyalty due to both +relations. My father is still to me _the_ Macrae, and I owe him and give +him the first and best homage of my heart." + +"Goodness! Gracious! I am very sorry, Miss Macrae, I have presumed to +meddle in your affairs. I am only a poor Lowland Scot, ignorant of your +famous clansmen. I have seen some of them, of course, in the Glasgow and +Edinburgh barracks, but we called them 'kilties,' just plain kilties! +Good soldiers, I believe, but----" + +"Dear Aunt, you are making yourself angry for nothing at all. If you +think over what I have said, you will allow I am right." + +"I have something else to think over now, and I'll meddle no more with +other people's love affairs. There now--go away and let me alone--I want +no kissing and fleeching. You have cast me clean off--after nineteen +years----" and the rest of her complaint was lost in passionate sobs and +tears. + +Then Marion was on her knees, crying with her, and the upcome and +outcome was kisses and fond words and forgiveness. But do we forgive? We +agree to put aside the fault and forget it; the real thing is, we agree +to forget. + +After this common family rite Mrs. Caird washed her face and went down +to look after dinner, and as she did so she felt a little hardly toward +Marion, and her thoughts were grieving and reminiscent. "Oh, the +sleepless nights and anxious days I have spent for that dear lassie!" +she sighed; "and, now she is a woman, her lover and her father fill her +heart. I am just a nobody. Well, thank the Father of all, I gave my love +freely. I did not sell it, I gave it, and the gift is my reward. It is +more blessed to give than to receive." + +Marion, at her sewing, had thoughts not much more satisfactory. "Aunt +makes so much of things," she said to herself. "She is so romantic and +simple-minded, and she goes over the score on both sides; everything is +the very worst or the very best. I wish she would not talk so much about +Richard, and be always planning this and that for us. Oh, I ought to be +ashamed of such thoughts, and I am ashamed! Aunt Jessy has been my +mother, God bless her!" She had a few moments of repentant reflection +and resolutions, and then she continued them in a different way, saying +almost audibly: "My father! Oh, Aunt knows my father is different. His +blood flows through my heart. I am his child from head to feet. Aunt has +often told me so. She ought, then, to know I would stand by my father, +whomever he married." + +They had forgiven each other--but had they forgotten? + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MINISTER IN LOVE + + "The sun and the bees, + And the face of her love through the green, + The shades of the trees, + And the poppy heads glowing between: + His heart asked no more, + 'Twas full as the hawthorn in May, + And Life lay before, + As the hours of a long summer day." + + +For a week there was no change in the usual course and tenor of life at +the Little House. Dr. Macrae read or wrote all morning, and after his +lunch he dressed with care and rode over to the Hall, took a late dinner +with Lady Cramer, and returned home about ten o'clock. He usually took a +manuscript with him, and often spoke of reading it to Lady Cramer. +Sometimes, also, he alluded to other company who were present, most +frequently to the elderly Earl Travers, whom he described as an +ultramontane Presbyterian. "He sits in a Free Church," he would say, +with a slight tone of anger, "but his place is in one of the churches +yet subject to Caesar, not in a Free Church, which is a Law unto itself; +its title deeds being only in the Registry above." Marion was proud of +his enthusiasm, but Mrs. Caird told herself, privately, that Earl +Travers had no doubt stimulated its character. For it was evident he +disliked Travers on grounds more personal than the government of the +Church. + +Travers had been a close friend of the late Lord Cramer, and he took his +place quietly but authoritatively at the side of his widow; indeed it +appeared to Dr. Macrae that, on the very first night he met him at the +Hall, Lady Cramer referred questions to the Earl that might have been +left to his judgment. Even then, Dr. Macrae had an incipient jealousy of +the Earl, who had just returned from a twelve months' cruise, rich in +charming anecdotes of entertaining persons and events. + +Really, Travers was much interested by the Minister and, hearing that he +was going to preach in Cramer Church on the following Sabbath, he made +an engagement at once with Lady Cramer to go with her to the service. +She was delighted with the proposal and, with an intimate look at Dr. +Macrae and a private handclasp as she passed him, vowed it would be the +greatest pleasure the Earl could offer her. "I have always longed," she +continued, "to hear one of those famous sermons that are said to thrill +the largest congregations in Glasgow." + +Certainly Dr. Macrae was flattered and much pleased. He had no fear of +falling below any standard set up for him, yet he kept closely to +himself all the previous Saturday, for he was gathering together his +personality, so largely diffused by his late happiness, and flooding the +sermon he was to deliver with streams of his own feeling and intellect. +And, oh, how good he felt this exercise to be! For some hours he rose +like a tower far above the restless sea of his passions. He put every +doubt under his feet, he made himself forget he ever had a doubt. + +The next morning was in itself sacramental, a Sabbath morning + + "so cool, so calm, so bright; + The bridal of the earth and sky," + +filled the soul with peace, and everywhere there was a sense of rest. +Even the cart horses knew it was Sunday, and were standing at the field +gates, idle and happy. In the pale sunlight the moor stretched away to +the mountains, and silent and serious little groups of people were +crossing it from every side, but all making for one point--Cramer +Church. + +Dr. Macrae had been driven there very early and, during the hour before +service, he was in the small vestry at the entrance of the church, and +was, as he desired, left quite alone. In that hour he rose to the +grandest altitude of his nature and, when the cessation of footsteps +told him the congregation was gathered, he opened the vestry door. Then +a very aged elder set wide the pulpit door, and Dr. Macrae--tall, +stately, long-gowned and white-banded--walked with a serious +deliberation unto that High Place from which he was to break the Bread +of Life to the waiting worshipers before him. There was an irresistible +power, both in him and going forth from him, that drew everyone present +to himself. His burning, vehement spirit found its way in full force to +his face, and it infected, nay, it went like a dart, to souls sleepy and +careless in Zion. + +To the Episcopalian the prayers are everything; to the Presbyterian it +is the sermon; and there was a sigh of satisfaction when Dr. Macrae read +with clear, powerful enunciation the last four verses of the sixth +chapter of Hebrews, and boldly announced that he would speak "first of +_God the Chooser_, then of _God the Slain_, then of _God the +Comforter_." + +From these great seminal truths he reasoned of righteousness and +judgment to come with a penetrative, judicial power; but he quickly +passed this stage and entered into their enforcement with an +overwhelming insistence. Something was to be _done_rather than +explained. The sermon was almost fiercely theological, but through it +all there was that wonderfully inspired look, that diviner mind, that +"little more" which declares the Superman to be in control. + +Two remarks showed something of the personal struggle that he was going +through. Speaking of the doubting spirit prevalent in the whole +religious world, he said: "You will find in the words of my text the +remedy: that, by two immutable things in which it was impossible for God +to lie, we might have a strong consolation who have fled for refuge to +lay hold upon the hope set before us." And, again, very pointedly, he +asked: "When we have done wrong, how shall we remedy the wrong? I will +tell you. We must work day and night, as men work on a railway when the +bridge is broken down. For all traffic between our souls and heaven will +be interrupted until we get this ruin--this reason for God's +withdrawal--out of the way." + +The last sentences of his sermon were given to defending the creed of +his country, and the Minister who does this clasps the heart of his +people to him. He preached an hour and the time was as ten minutes. No +one moved until he closed the Book and, with a glowing face and a joyful +voice, gave the benediction. + +He looked ten years younger than he did when entering the pulpit. He +appeared to be much taller and of a larger bulk, and his face shone and +his eyes glowed with more than mortal light. For, at that hour of +superman control, the virtue of the spiritual erected and informed the +physical. The congregation longed to speak to him and to touch his hand, +but he walked through the gazing throng with uplifted face and towering +form, silent and enwrapt with his own power and eloquence, and, going +into the little vestry to unrobe, remained there until the Earl and Lady +Cramer had departed, and only a few humble and fervent worshipers +lingered thoughtfully among the graves in the churchyard. To these he +spoke, and they looked into his gracious, handsome face, touched almost +reverently the hand he offered and to their dying day talked of him as +of a man inspired and miraculous, a true Preacher of His Word. + +At his own door Marion met him with a kiss, a thing so unusual that it +had a kind of solemnity in it. "My good, wonderful father!" she +whispered, "there is no man can preach like you!" His heart beat +pleasantly to her love and admiration, and, though Mrs. Caird only +looked at him as he took his place at the table, he was as well +satisfied as he had been with Marion's greeting. He could see that she +had been weeping. The light of prayer was on her face, and from the +whole household he heard the silent psalm of thanksgiving. + +That day he remained at home, and on Monday he did the same. He thought +he was honestly "working day and night as men work on a railway when the +bridge is broken." Something had gone wrong between God and his soul. +The Power with the multitude which had been given him he still retained, +but that wonderful faculty within us which feels after and finds the +Divinity did not respond to his call. Yet he knew well that we have our +being in God, that God's ear lies close to our lips, that it is always +listening, that we sigh into it, even as we sleep and dream. Why did not +God give him again the personal joy of His salvation? He walked hour +after hour all Monday up and down his study, examining and defending +himself; for this attitude is almost certainly our first one when we +come penitently to God. Yet Dr. Macrae knew well that only with blinding +tears and breaking heart can the sinner go to His Maker and plead: "Cast +me not away from Thy Presence, take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore +unto me the joy of Thy Salvation." + +Tuesday he was physically weary and when he opened the book he was +considering, Hugh Miller's "Red Stone," he could not read it. The words +passed before his eyes, but his mind refused to notice them, and he +threw down the volume and resigned himself to religious reverie. His +eyes were on his closed Bible, and he was recalling in a regretful mood +the power and splendor of its promises and assurances. He was "feeling +after God, if haply he might find Him," trying to call up arguments for +his existence, his personality, His loving and constant interflow into +the affairs of men. But he had lost the habit of Faith, and was +continually finding himself face to face with the incomprehensible +problems which Science may propound but can never answer: Whence come +we? Whither do we go? Why was man created? Why does he continue to +exist? What has become of the vast multitudes of the dead? What will +become of the vaster multitudes that may yet tread the earth? + +But ever when he reached the outermost rim of this useless thought, +these awful and sacred questions still called to his soul for an answer. +Indeed, he felt acutely that he had not gained from Science any +intelligible religious system; nor yet any belief which he could +profess, or which he could defend from an assailant. He could find in it +nothing that a man could have recourse to in the hour of trouble, or the +day of death; and, when Mrs. Caird came into his study about the noon +hour, he felt compelled to speak to her. With a quick, nervous motion he +laid his hand upon some books at his side and complained wearily: + +"All they say about God is so terribly inadequate, Jessy." + +"Of course it is inadequate," she answered. "When men know nothing, how +can they teach, especially about Him, + + ... 'Who, though vast and strange + When with _intellect_ we gaze, + Yet close to the heart steals in + In a thousand tender ways.'" + +"O my dear sister, I am so miserable!" + +"My dear Ian, when we withdraw ourselves from that circle within which +the Bible is a definite authority, we must be miserable." + +"Why?" + +"We have then only a negative religion, and pray what is there between +us and the next lower down negation? And I assure you it would become +easy to repeat this descending movement again and again. Indeed, there +could be no reason for making a stand at any point, until----" + +"Until?" + +"The end!" + +"Then?" + +"There might come the dread of sliding away toward the brink--and over +the brink--of the precipice." + +"Then what help is there for a man who has taken this road ignorantly +and innocently?" + +And Jessy, with the light and joy of perfect assurance on her face, +answered, "There is the breadth, the depth, the boundless length, the +inaccessible height of Christ's love, which is the love of God." + +Ian did not answer immediately and, Mrs. Caird, walking to the window, +saw the Cramer carriage at the gate. + +"Lady Cramer is coming," she said. "I will go and meet her." + +Then Ian saw Lady Cramer fluttering up the garden walk, a lovely vision +in pink muslin and white lace, carrying a dainty basket of ripe apricots +in her hand. He thought he had not been looking for her visit, but Mrs. +Caird could have told him a different story. She knew by the care +bestowed on his morning toilet that he was expecting her, but she was a +considerate woman and made an excuse to leave them alone a few minutes. + +"I have come for Marion," she said. "I am going to do a little shopping, +and she has such good taste--and I thought you would like the +apricots--I expected you yesterday--I looked for you even Sunday. You +did not come--I was unhappy at your neglect." + +He stood gravely in front of her, looking down at her pretty, pleading +face, her beautiful hair, her garments of rose and white. He did not +speak. He was trying to recall the words he had resolved to say to her, +but, when she lifted her eyes, they hastened out of his memory; and when +she had laid her hand on his and asked, "Have I grieved you, my dear +Ian? Have you forgotten that you loved me?" + +"My God, Ada!" he cried in a low, passionate voice, "My God! I love you +better than my own soul." + +"You will dine with me this evening?" + +"This evening, yes, yes, I will come." + +"If you have any scruples--if you do not wish--if----" + +"Oh, you know well, Ada, that I am dying to come to you, to taste again +the sweetness of your embrace, to know the miraculous joy of your kiss. +You know, Ada, that you hold my heart in your small, open hands." + +"Ian, you are the greatest man in Scotland," she answered. "The Earl +says you have the eloquence of Apollo and the close reasoning of Paul." + +"And you, Ada?" + +"I have wanted to be good, Ian, ever since Sunday. Help me, dear one. I +am so weak and foolish." + +Then he took her in his arms and kissed his answer on her lips; and, in +a few moments, Mrs. Caird and Marion came laughing into the room. And it +is needless to say that in the evening Dr. Macrae took dinner as usual +with Lady Cramer. The hours they were together were really what Dr. +Macrae said they were, the happiest hours in all his life. + +They were indeed so mutually happy that Lady Cramer began this night to +take herself seriously to task after them. She dismissed her maid early, +saying, "I am sleepy," but she did not go to sleep. She wrapped herself +in a down coverlet and took an easy chair by an open window. The secret +silence of the night was what she wanted. It was the fifth day of the +moon, and its crescent moved with a melancholy air in the western +heavens, while the exquisite perfume of the double velvet rose scented +the cool air far and near. This rose is forgotten now, but then its +leaves were kept among a lady's clothing, and imparted to it an ethereal +fragrance far beyond the art of the perfumer. It was Lady Cramer's first +reflection. + +"The roses are in perfection," she thought, "the leaves must be gathered +to-morrow. They give my dresses the only scent I can endure. Ian always +notices it. He says it is so delicate and delicious that too much of it +would make him faint with pleasure. _Heigho!_ I have had a few hours +that I dare not repeat. I am so susceptible--so foolish. This affair +must be stopped. I will not allow it to go further. I dare not. I should +become a Minister's wife if I did. Could I think of that? Decidedly not. +I love him, yes. I love him, but I cannot sacrifice my life to make his +life sweeter. Should I make it sweeter? I am sure I would not. Religion +is very well on a Sunday morning, nice and ladylike, and I generally +enjoy it; but every day in your life is too much. I endured eight years +with an old noble that I might get entry into his caste. I cannot throw +that privilege away for love. No, I must marry a duke--good-bye, my +handsome Ian! We have had some happy hours together--but it is now time +to part." + +She sat discussing this subject with what she called her "heart" till +long after midnight; then the still, sweet atmosphere was invaded by the +sudden impetuous trample of a ghostly wind. The moon had set, and the +sky was bending darkly over a darker world. + +"Those clouds terrify me," she whispered. "They seem to look angrily at +me. I shall have bad dreams if I do not go to bed"--and as she did so +she nervously continued her soliloquy. "I dare say this is the hour that +liberates ghosts; such a wind would open all the old doors in this old +house, and the old joys and sorrows would come out. It is not cannie. I +will sleep now, and to-morrow--I will get ready for London." + +Dr. Macrae had lingered long on the moor. He had refused the carriage, +feeling that physical motion was the imperative craving of the hour. But +he was in such a miraculous state of rapture that his walking was not +walking; he trod upon the air, the earth was buoyant under his feet. He +knew not, he asked not, whether he was in the body or out of the body. +The exquisite Adalaide loved him. She had promised to be his wife. With +a little cry of joy he recalled that ecstatic moment when she had kissed +on his lips the one little word which made all things sure. + +"This is love!" he cried joyfully, lifting his face to the heavens, "and +I have blamed and punished those who have fallen through love! O man +foolish and ignorant of the great temptation!" + +He did not sleep. He had neither the wish to sleep nor the need of it. +Never in all his life had he been so keenly alive, so stubbornly awake. +With a face of rapt expectancy he recalled the looks and words and +motions of Adalaide. She had said they would have a year's honeymoon +among the storied cities and churches of the Mediterranean, and he began +to consider what this proposal meant. Certainly it implied his +resignation from the pulpit of the Church of the Disciples. Could he +bear that? Would he like to sit and listen to other men preaching the +Word, while he sat silent? On the previous Sabbath he had shown forth +that irresistible ordination which comes through the call and Hand of +God. Could he deny this great honor and stand like a dumb dog in the +courts of the Lord? + +Was love indeed the greatest thing in the world? He was too honest a +thinker to admit this fallacy. In his own congregation he had seen love +set aside for duty, for gold, for power, and he knew young men and women +who had put love behind them in order to remain with helpless parents +and succor them. They had received from their fellow creatures no +particular praise nor indemnity, they had quietly resigned love for the +nobler virtue of duty. Women without number were constantly making this +sacrifice, and should he resign the helpfulness and honor of his +God-given office to this pretender of supreme earthly power? Positively +he refused to entertain for a moment the possibility of casting away the +work God had given him to do. + +When he came to this decision the day was sullenly breaking, and he +heard his sister-in-law's voice and the tinkle of the breakfast china. +Then came the call for coffee and he said: "It is just what I wanted, +Jessy. Are we not earlier than usual?" + +"Yes," she answered, "but I knew you were awake, and thought your coffee +would be welcome." + +"It is. Thank you, Jessy"; and the words were said so pleasantly she met +them with a smile and, as he seemed wishful to talk, she responded +readily to his desire. + +"Where is Marion?" he asked. + +"In the Land of Sleep and Dreams, wherever that is." + +"Nobody knows that, Jessy. There is so much we do not know, and never +can know, that striving for Truth is discouraging." + +"Yes, but when we cease striving for Truth we begin striving for +ourselves." + +"You reason well, Jessy. Have you studied logic?" + +"What would a woman want with the mere faculty of logic? It belongs to +lawyers and men educated in Edinburgh. I can draw an inference from +anything reasonable, but logic is beyond the straight-forwardness of +women and, also, the will of genius. When you were preaching last Sunday +your words were arrows of the Almighty, they did not fly according to +the rules of logic; if they had would they have found the hearts of the +people? I think not. When are we going back to Glasgow, Ian? I am +wearying for it all day long and, sitting alone at night, I would rather +hear the melancholy human noises of the street than the song of the +nightingale." + +"For two more Sabbaths, Jessy, there is a minister in my place. After +that we will go home." + +"What kind of a minister?" + +"A Free Church minister." + +"That stands to reason and goes without saying. I mean is he sure on +Moses and reverent with the Gospels? Is he a believer or a doubter? That +is what I mean." + +"Who can tell? If a good man doubts, he does not babble his doubts from +the pulpit." + +"What are you doing now, Ian?" + +"I am bringing dogmas to Scripture and trying to make Scripture agree +with them. People read too much now. When I was a lad, Joseph Milner's +'Church History,' and Newton on the 'Prophecies' were in every house. +They were good books, fragrant with home piety, and with their Bible +were all men and women wanted." + +"And now it is even fashionable to have a book against the Bible lying +on the parlor table. It is not a good change, Ian." + +"The change is the spirit of our era, Jessy, but God is directing it. We +can do nothing. We are only clay in the hands of the potter." + +"Even so, but the potter does not make vessels for the express purpose +of breaking them, and I am sure it is wrong to say, 'We can do nothing.' +Our influence, be it good or bad, has had a commencement, and it will +never have an end. I heard Dr. Wardlaw say that, and, also, that what is +done is done, and it will work with the working universe, openly or +secretly, forever. When Jethro, the Midianitish priest and grazier, +hired an Hebrew outlaw as his herdsman, he doubtless thought little of +the circumstance; but Moses still lives, and busies himself in the daily +business of all nations. Your work has been set you, Ian; hold fast your +faith in it, and do not dare to desert it." + +"I was thinking your thought an hour ago, Jessy. My will is to finish +the work given me to do. If I allowed my will to be overpowered by any +circumstance, I should be the sport of Fate. I should indeed be then +_Not Elect_." With these words he rose, straight and strong, full of +confidence in his own will to do right and, with an encouraging smile to +Jessy, he went to his study. + +It was a chill, dull day without sunshine, but Dr. Macrae carried his +own sunshine. The morning would get over, and Ada would be sure to send +a close carriage for him in the afternoon. Then he would bring to a +clear understanding the fact that marriage could not separate him from +his spiritual work. He was dressed and waiting long before he could +reasonably expect the carriage, but at three o'clock it had not arrived, +and he was so wretched he resolved to take the Victoria and drive over +to the Hall. As this intention was forming in his mind a servant from +Cramer brought him a letter. He opened it with anxious haste, and read +the following lines: + + DEAR, DEAR IAN--I received this morning a most astonishing and + peremptory letter from my lawyer, directing me to come to + London by the next train. It is a purely business letter, dear, + but you know we cannot neglect business, especially as our + contemplated year's travel will draw deeply on our resources. I + shall not forget you; that would be impossible! I shall be at + the railway station at four o'clock; be sure to meet me there. + It would be dreadful not to bid you good-bye. + + YOUR ADA. + +Four o'clock! It was then a quarter after three; there was barely time +to reach the station, but half-a-crown to the driver gave him five +minutes in which to see his beautiful mistress in her new winter gown of +dark blue broadcloth, trimmed with sable fur. The small blue and brown +toque above her brown, braided hair gave her quite a new look. She was +so chic, so radiant, so loving. And, in some of the occult ways known to +women, she managed in those few minutes to make him both happy and +hopeful. Then the guard held open the door of her carriage, she was in +the train, the door was shut, the cry of "All right" ran along the +moving line and, with a heart feeling empty and forlorn, he returned to +the Little House. + +"Lady Cramer has gone to London," he said to Mrs. Caird, and she looked +into her brother-in-law's face and understood. + +There was nothing now for him but reading, and he took up the books +waiting for him and tried to forget in Scientific Religion the pitiless +aching and longing of love; and he was glad, also, that the minister who +had been filling the pulpit of the Church of the Disciples during his +month's rest proposed to come to Cramer and stay part of the last week +with him. He hoped they might be able to talk over together some of the +startling religious ideas he was then reading and, perhaps, receive help +from his more advanced age and wider experience. + +Mrs. Caird doubted it as soon as she saw the man. He had a handsome +physical appearance with such drawbacks as attend a long course of +self-indulgence. His stoutness reduced his height, he had become +slightly bald, and he wore glasses; so Dr. Macrae's slim, straight +figure, his fine eyes and hair, and his good, healthy coloring, moved +the brother cleric to a moment's envy. + +"I used to be as natty and bright as you, Macrae," he said, "but age, +sir, age--the years tell on us." + +Dr. Macrae met him at the railway station with the Victoria, and he +admired the turnout very much. "That is a fine machine," he remarked; +"it must have cost you a pretty penny." + +"It is not mine," answered Dr. Macrae. "It belongs to Lady Cramer. I +have, by her kindness, the use of it this summer." + +"What an unusual kindness!" + +"Also of her dower house, with all its beautiful furnishings. Very +little you will see in it belongs to me." + +"I have never fallen on such luck. My church is large, but poor--poor. +There are a few wealthy families--but--but they do not lift themselves +above the ordinaries of collection--the plate and the printed lists." + +"Yes." + +"And, even so, I generally think scorn of their donations. I suppose you +are on a very easy footing with Lady Cramer--friendly, I mean." + +"Yes, we are good friends." + +He was in a fit of admiration with everything he saw, the antique +homeliness of the parlors, the lavender on the window sills, the +Worcester china on the table. He looked critically at the latter, and +said with a knowing air, "It belongs to the best period, having the +square mark on it." The light shone on olives and grapes, on cut glass +and silver, and specially on a claret jug of Worcester, with its exotic +birds, its lasting gold, and its scale-blue ground like sapphire. He +had the artistic temperament, and these beautiful things appealed to him +in a way that astonished Dr. Macrae, whose temperament was of spiritual +mold, and had not been destitute of even ascetic tendencies in his +youth. + +He had, therefore, little sympathy with his guest's enthusiasms; indeed, +it rather pleased him to strip himself bare of all the beauty around +him. "Not one of these lovely things is mine," he said. "I should not +know what to do with them. I would rather have a few deal shelves full +of good books." + +"You don't know yourself, Macrae," was the answer. "The possession of +artistic beauty develops the taste for it. When you are rich----" + +"I shall never be rich." + +"You have a fine income." + +"I save nothing from it; a man who tries to save both his money and his +soul has a task too hard for me to manage." + +It must be acknowledged that Mrs. Caird took a dislike to the man, and +she made Dr. Macrae feel that it was important he and his visitor should +go to Glasgow on Thursday. "Take him to Bath Street," she said. "Maggie +will provide for you; besides, I am sending Kitty down to-morrow, and he +will be a hindrance to me here." + +Wednesday was very wet and the two ministers had perforce to remain in +the house, and in one of the exigencies of their prolonged +conversations Dr. Macrae unfortunately referred to the pile of +scientific religious books lying on his table. Then his visitor rose and +looked at them. + +"Yes," he said with a great sigh, "we are very scientific to-day, with +our 'tendencies' and 'streams of influence' and our various 'thought +movements.' They are all purely material." + +"They cannot be that," replied Dr. Macrae, impetuously. "Streams of +influence imply spiritual beings, and movements of thought must come +from thinkers." + +"Agreed," was the reply, "but you cannot call 'a stream of tendency,' or +'a power that makes for righteousness,' God. No, sir, you cannot, +without striking at the very foundation of Theism. The next step would +be to deny the supernatural guidance of the universe and of life. And +the next? What would it be?" + +"I know not. Such questions are mere spiritual curiosity. Keep your +thumb down on them." + +"I will tell you. The morality based on the supernatural would fail, +and, unless a man had found a scheme of scientific morality based on the +natural instead of the supernatural, he would be wrecked on the rock of +his passions. The question arises, then--is there such a scheme?" + +"You must answer your own question, Dr. Scott. As far as I can see, if +there is in scientific philosophy a rule of life that can take the place +of the Bible and Christianity, it must be able to guide the ignorant and +humble, and restrain and comfort men. Philosophy failed Cicero at the +hour of trial, and who would offer to the mourner, or the outcast, a +chapter of scientific philosophy? It would be feeding hunger on straw." + +"See here, Macrae, you are going further than I have any desire to +follow you. I am a licensed preacher of the Scotch Church. My articles +stipulate that I shall preach the doctrines of Christianity as +elucidated by the creed of John Calvin. That is the extent of my +obligation--the full extent of it." + +"No." + +"Yes. I chose the profession of Divinity, as my brother chose that of +the Law. Both are recognized means of business. I accepted Divinity as +such. I agreed to preach Calvinism to those who chose to come to my +church--to my place of business, really--and listen to me." + +"Do you believe what you preach?" + +"That is another question. Answer it yourself, Macrae. I can only say +that, in preparing for the profession of Divinity at St. Andrews +Divinity Hall, it was understood I would preach Calvinism. There was no +specification concerning my belief or non-belief in it. I was licensed +to be a preacher of Calvinism, and I have never preached anything else. +My brother has the authority of the courts to be a pleader for +criminals. He pleads well for them, and he does not much care whether +they are guilty or innocent. You see, Macrae, this preaching is a +professional business. Men are qualified for it, as men are qualified +for law or medicine. They serve--just as Divinity does--rich and poor, +good and bad. I do not know but what they are as reputable and useful +'divines' as we are." + +"Supposing you were a sceptic--as many now are--would you go on +preaching?" + +"Unquestionably. Pray, why not? What I believe is between my Maker and +myself. My congregation have nothing to do with it. My belief or +non-belief would not injure or improve my sermons. I should in either +case preach a good Calvinistic sermon; that is what I qualified myself +for. It is my business. If you have been in London you have seen in the +great thoroughfares men in scarlet blouses, whose business it is to +direct strangers to the places they wish to find. Nobody asks them about +their personal religion. If they are good guides to those seeking +certain places, they fulfil their duty. I am in just such a position. So +are you." + +"If I thought so, I would leave it at once." + +"If you had a wife and five children you would put their comfort before +your own feelings. That stands to reason. All this talk about the higher +criticism is like the sickly talk of the higher civilization; it is +anemia in some form or other. Macrae, we have our duty to the Church. We +are pledged and sworn to that. It is as much the work given us to do as +plowing and sowing are the farmer's work." + +"But the Truth--the Truth, Doctor!" + +"What is Truth, Macrae? Who knows? The Truth of yesterday is the error +of to-day." + +"Then, it never was Truth, for Truth is unaffected by time, and remains +a witness of the past, the present, and the future." + +Then the visiting cleric struck the table heavily with his closed hand +and, with a fierce intensity, whispered, + +"O Man! Man! what if all this religion should be a dream!" + +And Dr. Macrae answered, "Then, where is the Reality?" + +Both men were silent, but in the eyes of both there was that look which +is only seen in the eyes of men who are defrauding their own souls. + +In a few moments there was the tinkle of a small silver bell, and Dr. +Macrae said, "Tea is ready," and they rose together. Passing the parlor +they heard Marion trying a new song, and they loitered a moment or two +and listened, as very slowly and softly she asked: + + "What says thy song, thou joyous thrush, + Up in the walnut tree?" + "I love my Love, because I know + My Love loves me." + +A little sadly they entered the parlor, but the blazing fire threw warm +gleams on the handsomely set table; and the tempting odors of young +hyson, fresh bread, and a rook pie filled the room. Involuntarily +everyone smiled and sat down gladly to the dainty, delicate food before +them; and Dr. Macrae said to his friend: + +"Life is full of emotions. Such a variety of them, too!" + +"And all good--or, at least, pretty much so. A rook pie! That is a +luxury indeed! I suppose there is a rookery at Cramer." + +"A very ancient and a very large one," answered Dr. Macrae, and he +recognized in his own voice and manner that slight sense of +proprietorship which flavors a coming good. He was ashamed of it, and +made some foolish remark about the rooks being a present. "The birds are +not in the market," he said, "and, if they were, a poor minister could +not buy them." + +"You are a fortunate man. The country is full of blessings. I wish I +lived in the country. You must like it, Macrae." + +"I am of _Touchstone's_ opinion--in respect that it is in the fields, it +pleaseth me well; but, in respect that it is not in the city, it is +tedious. That reminds me, we shall leave for the city early in the +morning." + +"Not too early, I hope?" + +"About ten o'clock." + +"That will do very well." + +The men were up early, but Mrs. Caird saw that Ian had spent a sleepless +night. Indeed, his conversations with Dr. Scott had raised many serious +questions in his mind. Was it possible that this doubt of God's +existence--of the inspiration of the Bible--of the dogma of eternal +punishment and other vital points of Christian belief was not an +uncommon condition of the ministerial mind, not only in Calvinistic +churches but throughout the creeds of Christendom? + +"There is no absolute Faith in any Protestant Church, no matter how its +creed is written," Dr. Scott had said, with an air of knowledge and +certainty; adding, "Belief is an individual thing, Macrae, every man +must discover what is true in his own case." + +"What is the most general point of unbelief among ministers?" asked Ian, +and Dr. Scott, after a moment's reflection, answered, "I think, +perhaps, the divinity of Jesus Christ." At these words Mrs. Caird +flushed angrily, and looked at Ian. She expected him to deny this +accusation, but he only cast down his eyes and remained silent. Then, +she said, with great feeling, "Constance Norden has well described the +religion of such men as + + 'Pale Christianity, with Christ expunged; + Faint unbelief deploring its own skill, + With tomes of metaphysic lore, that sponged + The World away, leaving the lonely Will.'" + +And Dr. Scott bowed slightly, but made no other answer to Constance +Norden's accusation. + +"Do you think the divergencies of the Bible are a great difficulty, +Jessy?" and Ian looked anxiously at his sister as she answered without a +moment's hesitation, "A want of belief is the chief, is the whole +difficulty. God speaks to men and they will not believe Him." + +"You must remember, Mrs. Caird, that we have to talk to congregations +who know all about the system of Christian theology." + +"If I was a preacher, Doctor, I would let the system of theology alone. +I would take for granted the divine in men, bring them past every +disability of race, station, or morality, right into the presence of +God, and offer them all God's good will, though they were slaves or +outcasts." + +"Such sermons would not do for this era of the Church. They would have +to be gradually introduced." + +"Then do not introduce them. Better do nothing than do by halves and +quarters." + +"Our civilization, Mrs. Caird----" + +"Can never save the world. It cannot even save the individual. Besides, +our civilization, whatever it may be scientifically, is ethically +bankrupt." + +"I was going to say, Mrs. Caird, that new truths affecting old clerical +dogmas are generally offensive to old church members. Many good men live +by serving the altar. They must be considered, and your brother and I, +and every minister, knows that our people judge for themselves and only +accept what they desire to accept. Is not that so, Macrae?" And Macrae, +as he looked at his watch, answered indifferently, "You are right, +Doctor. It is now time we took the carriage if we intend to catch our +train." + +So there was movement and a little noise, but, amid it, Ian heard his +sister's answer, "To be sure, Dr. Scott, we all know well that Scotsmen +do that which is right in their own eyes--and, also, that which is +wrong." + +With the usual pleasant formalities the men went away together, and +Jessy sadly walked through the perishing garden, whispering to herself, +as she did so: + + "Through sins of sense, perversities of will, + Through doubt and pain, through guilt and shame, and ill, + Thy pitying eye is on Thy creatures still." + +For she knew in her heart that no man could be more miserable than Ian +Macrae. His religion was no longer even a habit, it had become an acute +fever, and all conversation on this tremendous subject seemed so +ineffectual, so mockingly beneath its meaning and its needs. It wearied +his aching heart and brain, and gave him neither hope nor consolation. +For he knew that any reasoned argument would be but the surface +exhibition; it was only the unreasoned and immediate assurance that +could satisfy his soul. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +DONALD TAKES HIS OWN WAY + + "Love is a sea for which no compass has been invented." + + There are times which mark epochs in life; they cut it sharply + asunder--the continuity of life is broken. + + +There was a sense of relief when the two divines were comfortably beyond +the horizon of the Little House the next morning, and Mrs. Caird could +begin her preparations for their own removal. "I was fain to come to +this place, Marion," she said, "and mightily set up with it when I got +here. But I have had lots of care in its pretty rooms and among its +flowers. So I am just as fain to go back to the big, dull rooms in Bath +Street. Paradise is fairly lost, dear. We may dream of it, but we never +find it." + +"O Aunt Jessy, some surely find it." + +"They may think they do for awhile, but indeed, + + 'There's none exempt from worldly cares, + And few from some domestic cross; + All whiles are in, and whiles are out, + For grief and joy come time about.'" + +She was tearing up some old cotton for dusters as she repeated the +rhyme, and she emphasized "some domestic cross" by a rent of rather +angry vigor; then she added, "Go to your father's study, you will be out +of the way of the cleaners there, and I have no doubt whatever that you +have an important letter to write." + +"Aunt, when did you hear from Donald?" + +"It is so long since, I have forgotten." + +"Where were they then?" + +"In the Shetland Islands. Whiles I fear they have been shut in there by +early storms, or have gone out pleasuring in some cockle shell of a boat +and got----" + +"No, no, Aunt. I had a letter from Perth. They were on the mainland the +seventh of September." + +"Then they are all right. Some day soon they'll come traipsing in, wet +and draggled, and tired and hungry." + +"They will not come here, will they?" + +"I hope not. It is little welcome I'll give them if they come after this +house is in order. They would have to go to the kitchen itself." + +"You would never do that, Aunt?" + +"Would I not? If the occasion comes you will see." + +The occasion came that afternoon. Mrs. Caird was standing before a large +chest of fine napery, counting napkins, when Donald threw open the door +of the room and, before she could speak, threw his arms around her neck +and kissed her, and kissed her over and over again. "You dear Auntie! +You dear Mammy!" he shouted, and she, between laughing and crying, +gasped out: "Be done, you ranting, raving laddie! See you have made me +drop the finger cloths, and my count is lost; and I shall have to go +over them again." + +"I'll count them for you, Mammy." + +"You!" she ejaculated with horror. "Your hands are not fit to touch +them." + +"Oh yes, you are going to give me one when you give me my dinner." + +"I will not. The tale of them is correct and just from the laundry, and +I shall not have one of them soiled for anybody." + +"Not even for Richard Cramer?" + +"Where is he?" + +"In the parlor with Marion." + +"_Humph!_" + +"And we are hungry, Auntie, and we are going to stay here to-night." + +"No. Your rooms are now in the cleaning, you had better go to the Hall." + +"Very well, we can do that." + +"No, you can't. I won't have it, and Lady Cramer is in London." + +"Jericho! What took her there? Richard will be astonished." + +"So you will have to stay here. It's notably inconvenient, but whenever +do men consider the conveniences? I'll give the two of you the +guest-room, and we will just have to stay here a day longer, and make it +decent-like after you." + +"Auntie, we are hungry; nothing to eat since breakfast, and I am not in +love. I can't live on kisses and sweet words like Richard." + +"Surely not. Come with me and I will give you pot luck until six +o'clock, then you'll get your dinner, and not a minute sooner. I have +three extra women hired by the day and I can't slack my care of them." + +"Come and see Richard. He wants to see you." + +"Not he! He would have come up with you if he had wanted bad enough." + +"He got stopped on the way. How could he pass Marion? She was watching +for him." + +"Did she know you were coming?" + +"I think so--certainly, certainly she knew." + +"And the little minx so innocently asked me if I knew!" + +So Mrs. Caird went down to the lovers, pretended to scorn them, and sent +Richard upstairs to wash and make himself like a gentleman. Then, with a +beaming face, she turned to Marion and said: "My dear girl, we will +have a few days' happiness, no matter what comes or goes. We can put the +cleaning behind the dear lads." + +"They can go to the kitchen, Aunt. They are quite used to it. From what +Richard says, I think they have mostly lived in kitchens, and also +thoroughly enjoyed kitchen hospitality." + +"That would be like them. It takes gentlemen to understand the reality +of kitchen hospitality. We will give them the best in our cupboard, and +set them a fair table in the dining-room. It is not too often in life +that true love comes to eat with you." + +"Richard must go away to-morrow. When he heard Lady Cramer was in London +it worried him. He said he must go and see what she was doing." + +"Well, then, give the day to him. When he has left to-morrow, Donald can +do a deal to help. I taught him everything about the house, as you know. +He'll not need to marry any girl that she may make the pot or kettle +boil, or sew a button on. And he'll help us with carpets and curtains, +and the like, and enjoy it. We will have one good day when we can get +it. You may look up Ecclesiasticus 14:14 for permission. So come with me +and we will spread in the dining-room a comfortable 'pick-up' for hungry +men, and you must serve and entertain them, for there is too much fine +linen lying loose, and too many strange hands around, who may be clever +at finding things--not lost." + +The dinner and the evening were all that Mrs. Caird intended. She left +the lovers very much to themselves and, wherever she was, Donald was +with her. Never had she been so proud and so fond of him. "He is the +handsomest lad in Scotland," she said, "and the best, and I care not who +says 'no' to that truth--it will stand." + +Still the visit delayed them a day, and it was Tuesday when they again +reached the Bath Street home and, for a few days, Mrs. Caird was always +finding out some advantage in it hitherto unnoticed. She was glad to +live under high ceilings once more; the Bath Street water made far +better tea. She had had enough of lamps and candlesticks forever--even +if they were made of silver--just give her a common gas burner and she +would never inquire what it was made of. Thank goodness there was a +market now to go to! You had to take what meat and poultry you could get +in the country; the fleshers in Glasgow knew they must give you the very +best, that and that only; and, above all, she could order a street car +to wait on her, or a noddy to call for her whenever she wanted to step +to church or call on a friend, and that suited her feelings far better +than any lady's Victoria. + +Dr. Macrae was not pleased at such remarks. "Gratitude is a late +plant," he said; "it grows at the very gate of heaven. A human being +hardly ever receives it. I am sure, Jessy, if you had had to pay rent +for the house and all its favors and advantages, it would have cost you +a large sum of money." + +"If you are sure, Ian, that a kindness is true kindness, it is easy to +be pleased and grateful; but, if you come to see there has been a +selfish foundation for it, why should you be grateful?" + +"There was no selfish motive in Lady Cramer's kindness, Jessy." + +"I am glad to be informed of that. I thought it was very like the +thousand pounds left you as a token of Lord Cramer's friendship. What +weary reading and writing you have given for it, not to speak of the +mental and spiritual danger and trouble, I call that thousand pounds the +worst money you ever put in your purse. I don't think you owe Lord +Cramer a pennyweight of gratitude for it. When did you get rid of the +Reverend Dr. Scott?" + +"He went home early on Monday morning. He asked a queer favor of me on +the Sabbath morning." + +"What was it?" + +"'Macrae,' he said, as we ate our breakfast, 'I ask you not to come to +the Church of the Disciples to-day. I could not preach if you were +present. I should be dumb.' I wondered at it." + +"I think it was a most natural request. Men are just like women. That +last wet day made you say things to each other you were soon sorry for." + +"That may be so. Where is Donald? Did he not return with you?" + +"He came to the very doorstep with us. Then he had to hurry away to the +Buchanan Street Station to see Lord Cramer, who is off to London." + +"Why?" + +"I never asked him. Donald will be here anon; he said he would not miss +eating with us the first meal of our home-coming. He seemed particular +about it. I thought he might be thinking of going away himself, +perhaps----" + +"He is going to St. Andrews." + +"You are reckoning without your host, Ian. Donald has not one intention +about St. Andrews." + +"Nevertheless, he is going to St. Andrews." + +"Just so--according to Ian Macrae. Donald Macrae is to hear from." + +"Every Scotchman, Jessy, considers it a great privilege to go to St. +Andrews. St. Andrew was a good and a great man." + +"He was a very prudent, forecasting Saint--the only one of the Disciples +who, at the great Preaching, knew where the bread and the fishes were. +But, though I will not preach for your Saint, I will say nothing against +him. If he can get Donald he may have him. But we will have our meal at +six o'clock, Ian, and I hope there will be only good words with it +to-night. It would be real unlucky to have a quarrel over our first +meal." + +Certainly Mrs. Caird did all she could to prevent it. It was a pleasure +to go into the firelit, gaslit room, and see the pretty plenteous table; +and to hear the pleasant laughter of Donald and Marion, who were +standing together on the hearthrug. Dr. Macrae took in the charming +picture at a glance, but his attention was specially drawn to Donald. +His holiday had improved him. He was so manly and so handsome that his +father quite involuntarily addressed him as sir. "Well, sir," he said, +"I hope you have had a good holiday." + +"A grand one! I do not see how I could have had a better one in every +way." + +"That is good. Your aunt is waiting. Let us sit down. Where did you go +first?" + +"Lord Cramer was with me and we went first to Skye, and spent nearly +four days at Dunvegan Castle with Macleod of Macleod. He remembered my +grandfather and spoke bravely of him, and, if I had not been a Scotchman +to the last drop of my blood, Dunvegan would have made me one." + +"It is the oldest inhabited castle in Scotland," said Dr. Macrae, "and +in my grandfather's day it was only accessible from the sea by a boat +and a subterranean staircase." + +"It is now approached by a modern bridge crossing the chasm." + +"Is the old castle intact?" + +"Yes, and there are many good modern additions. On the whole it is very +picturesque. We were nobly entertained. We saw all to be seen in the +neighborhood. The castle has some rare relics, also. The Macleod himself +put into our hands for a few minutes a wooden cup beautifully carved and +mounted in silver, which belonged to Catherine O'Neill in 1493. We also +saw the fairy banner which controls the destiny of the Macleods, and the +claymore and horn of Rory More, or Sir Roderick Macleod. It was a very +memorable visit, sir." + +"I am glad you have been there. You saw a grand Scotch noble. Where did +you go next?" + +"To Oban, where we spent a couple of days on the mountains with John +Stuart Blackie. Such a lunch as we had with him on the hills--curds and +rich cream--cold salmon--cold lamb--roasted duck--veal pie--ham--peas +and, of course, hard-boiled eggs. I was told Blackie does not think any +meal perfect without them. With these things we had plenty of milk, +beer, and claret with a fine rich bouquet. Blackie said claret without +it was no better than colored cold water." + +"Did Blackie talk much?" + +"Did he ever cease talking? But every word was good. You would not have +missed one of them." + +"On what subjects did he speak?" + +"While eating he told us that every meal should have three courses, +adding, 'Three is a sacred number. Aristotle settled that. Three is the +first number that has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and this gives +the perfect idea of a whole. Every dinner ought to have three courses, +every song three verses, every novel three volumes, every sermon three +heads.'" + +Dr. Macrae really laughed as he asked, "What were your three courses, +Donald?" + +"Curds and cream first, salmon and roast duck second, and, for the +third, cheddar cheese, beautifully browned oat cakes and a glass of old +port that Blackie said 'fell like the dew of Hermon' upon the oat +cakes." + +"That was like Blackie. His similes often have a Biblical flavor." + +"He talked wisely and cleverly about eating, said the Englishman was an +aristocratic animal, and his eating large, royal and rich, and that the +man who fed in his style would do nothing in a meager style. The French +thought we did not understand how to eat--that we eat without science, +had only one sauce, that we made of flour and water, and called melted +butter. He quoted Novalis for the Germans, who said, 'Eating is an +accentuated living.' I think, Father, Novalis is right, for everything +is always best when well accentuated. A student from Edinburgh joined us +while we were eating, a tall, thin man who was living on the hills to +recruit after the severe drill of last winter at the University." + +"Yes, the drill is severe," said Dr. Macrae, "unless you have a grand +purpose for it." + +"Blackie said he knew him well, that he met him near Glencoe two years +ago, and at that time he could only speak a few words in broken English. +Two years afterward he won the bronze medal in the Greek class at +Edinburgh, and that all had been done upon oatmeal, cheese, salt +herrings, and fifteen pounds sterling." + +"That is by no means a singular instance," said Dr. Macrae. "All things +are possible to a Scotch Celt in love with learning and seeing a pulpit +in the distance. No doubt his medal paid for all his privations." + +"I was very sorry for the man. That bronze medal would not have paid me +for two years' hard study and meager living." + +"I am sorry to hear you say that, Donald," and Dr. Macrae's face +suddenly shadowed, and he asked for no further stories of his son's +holiday. On the contrary he remembered some letters that must be +written, and rose, saying: + +"Donald, after breakfast to-morrow morning, I should like to speak to +you. Come to my study." + +"Yes, Father. I will certainly come." + +Then, with a slight reluctance, Dr. Macrae went away, but long afterward +he could hear, if he listened, sounds of happy talk and laughter at the +pleasant table he had deserted. And he had several longings to go back +to the cheerful parlor; his heart was not satisfied, and he could offer +it no excuse for its deprivation that it would accept. + +"I am sorry Father has gone away, Donald," said Marion. "I had a feeling +you were coming to something very interesting." + +"Then it is just as well his father did not stay to hear it," replied +Mrs. Caird. "I never saw two men whose ideas of what was interesting +were further apart than those of Ian and Donald Macrae." + +"Well," continued Donald, "our next move was a doubtful one, and it +might perhaps have seriously offended Father. I told Professor Blackie I +had a little lecture ready about the private history of our favorite +Scotch songs--the men or women who wrote them, the circumstances that +produced them, the places in which they were written, and so on. And I +said I would like to deliver it in Oban. He was greatly delighted, +offered to be my chairman, and arranged the program, adding also to my +facts many interesting anecdotes. Both Lord Cramer and I illustrated the +songs with our violins and voices, and Blackie provided the enthusiasm +for the crowds that came to hear the stories and the singing and to see +the dancing. The enthusiasm was beyond belief. Indeed, at our battle +song of Lochiel's men charging the French at Waterloo, most of the +audience stood up, and from all parts of the hall came the _Sa! Sa! Sa! +Sa!_ of a Highland regiment charging an enemy. Well, when all expenses +were paid, we had cleared one hundred and four pounds, which was very +acceptable, as we were both out of money. At Perth we raised the sum of +eighty pounds, and then at Wick we took a boat for Shetland, and had a +glorious time with the fishermen on Brassey Sound--out on the ocean with +them, all through the long, light nights, while the sunset lingered in +the west and the dawn was tremulous in the east, and the moonlight +silvered everything on earth and sea, and the aurora, with rosy +javelins, charged the zenith. Such wonderful nights! Such quiet, grave, +purposeful men! Such nets full of quivering fish, in the silver lights +between sea and deck! We got away with the strange fishers after the +_foy_ or feast and, stopping at St. Andrews, tramped through all the +queer little coast towns of the ancient kingdom of Fife and so to +Edinburgh, with three times as much money as we started with, and all +the health and happiness of the trip added to it." + +"I am glad you called at St. Andrews. What did you think of the place?" +asked Marion. + +"It is pretty enough, but the very atmosphere is learned as well as +religious, and you catch the spirit of the place whether you like or +not. Walking the streets you appear to imbibe knowledge. I could think +only of divinity, science, and philosophy. One of the professors asked +me to give my lecture, and said he would sanction the meeting--but I +could not sing there." + +"Why?" + +"Well, Marion, it is a psychical problem. The atmosphere had infected +me, and the scientific or philosophical man is never a singing man. Now, +Aunt, you see there was nothing wrong in our way of raising the wind, +but it is very uncertain how Father would look at it." + +"I do not think it would have his approval and, if you take my advice, +you will tell him nothing about it." + +The following morning, however, Dr. Macrae reverted over and over to +Donald's adventures, and would have been really glad if Donald had taken +up the subject again, but he did not care to ask the favor--partly +because he was a proud man with his children, and partly because it was +not a suitable preface for the serious conversation he intended to have +with him. He left the table before Donald and spent the interval in +steadying his mind and purpose with regard to his boy's future. Never +had he been so dear to his heart, never had he been so proud of his +beauty, his fine presence and mental alertness. He told himself the +world would be full of temptations to such a youth, so charming, and +that it was his manifest duty "to bind him, even with cords, to the +horns of the altar." There only he would be safe from the lures of the +world, the flesh, and the devil. Many things he was not sure about, but +this thing he regarded as a duty from which he could not righteously +relieve himself. + +In the midst of such a positive decision Donald, handsome and happy, +entered the room. His father met him with the respect and kindness due +from one man to another, whatever their relationship, for Dr. Macrae had +fully recognized the preceding evening the manhood of his son, and had +resolved in the future to acknowledge it in all his dealings with him. + +"Sit down, my dear Donald," he said, "I want to talk with you about your +future. Your holiday has been a long and delightful one. You have got +rid of the commercial life you disliked so much--though, by-the-by, Mr. +Reid says you would have made a good business man--now, then, I should +like you to start for St. Andrews at once, so as to go in with the +entering classes--it is always best. You will find St. Andrews a +delightful little city." + +"I spent three days there a week ago, sir. The classes were gathering +then." + +"And you liked it, I am sure?" + +"I wished to like it for your sake, Father, but I could not. I disliked +everything about it." + +"I am sorry for that, because you will require to spend a few years +there. But, even if you do not like the place, it has many compensations +and, among these I count the name that will be yours as soon as you are +entered on its list." + +"The name, sir?" + +"Yes. You will then be _A Man of St. Andrews_! Other universities have +students, scholars, fellows, etc., but St. Andrews breeds _Men_! In +after life you will know each other as 'Men' and call each other '_Man_' +with the grip of a kindly world-wide brotherhood, for East, West, North, +or South St. Andrews' 'Men' soon find each other. Donald, my dear son, +be a Man of St. Andrews." + +"O Father, I cannot. It is impossible! I would rather die." + +"Speak sensibly, Donald, men don't talk of dying because duty demands of +them a certain amount of self-denial." + +"Duty asks nothing of me, sir, in regard to St. Andrews. I have seen the +world has now one test. It asks of every man and of every proposition, +_Will it work?_ If it will not, it must go. I could not do any kind of +work in a university. Plenty of better men than I am would work +splendidly there. I should die of spiritual and mental nausea. I have +considered university life, both as regards law and medicine. I thought +we might compromise, perhaps, on medicine, but my feeling is the same. I +am an open-air man. I want to live with every part of my body at the +same time, not with my brain only--to be tethered to a desk with a book, +whether ledger or Bible, would be to me a dreadful existence." + +"We will put _me_ out of the question. Do I not deserve some honor and +obedience? It is my positive will that you should go to St. Andrews." + +"In order to give you pleasure, sir, I might be willing to give up, say +three of the best years of my life, but you would then want the whole of +my life to preach Calvinism." + +"I have given my youth and my life to preach Calvinism or the +Truth--they are the same thing." + +"If Calvinism is true, sir, then I think my opinion ought to have been +asked before I was sent into the world on such terms." + +"This talk is irrelevant. What I ask of you is, will you go to St. +Andrews and study Divinity? Donald, I will make it as pleasant as I can +for you--will you go?" + +"No, sir. Forgive me. I cannot." + +Dr. Macrae looked steadily at his son, and his large, lambent eyes were +full of tears. + +"It is for your salvation, Donald. My son, think again, your father asks +of you this favor--for your own good." + +Donald was even more moved than his father and, if he had followed his +instincts, he would have fallen at his father's knees and said, "I am +your son. I will do all you wish." But his resolve was not a something +of yesterday, and his will was the strongest force in his nature. He put +all feeling under its majestic orders and, though his heart was aching +with sorrow, he answered, "Forgive me, Father. I must take my own way. I +must live my own life." + +Then Dr. Macrae turned his face toward his desk. It was covered with +papers and he lifted a pen and began to write. Donald waited patiently, +neither speaking nor moving for about five minutes. Then his father +lifted his head and said with cold politeness, "You can go, sir, there +is nothing more to say." + +"I would like to tell you something about my plans, Father." + +Dr. Macrae went on writing and did not answer. In a few moments Donald +continued: "I have resolved to go----" + +"I have no interest in your plans, sir." + +"But Father, listen." + +Then Dr. Macrae threw down his pen. It fell upon his sermon and left a +large, unsightly blot which irritated him. He did not speak, however, +but by an almost imperceptible movement of his eyes and outstretched +hand said to Donald more plainly than words could have done, "Leave the +room!" + +With that relentless figure regarding him, Donald knew that delay or +entreaty was vain. He gave his father one long, last look, a look of +such love as would master time, and then, with two scarcely audible +words, "Farewell, Father," he obeyed the silent order he had received. + +That look pierced Dr. Macrae's heart like an arrow, and those two words +went pealing through his ears like words of doom. He threw up his hands +and rushed to the door. He wanted to cry, "Come back, come back, +Donald," but the hall was empty and still. It was but a few steps to the +front door, he opened it in frantic haste, but neither up nor down Bath +Street could he see the son he loved so dearly and had sent away so +cruelly. He called Mrs. Caird and she came from the kitchen, her hands +covered with flour. + +"What are you wanting, Ian?" she asked. "I am just throng with the +pastry." + +"Have you seen Donald within the last five minutes?" + +"Nor within the last hour. He went to your study after his breakfast. +That is the last I have seen of the poor lad. What is the matter?" + +"He has gone." + +"Gone! Where to?" + +"God knows," and, heedless of Mrs. Caird's inquiries and reproaches, he +fled to his study and locked the door. He was suffering as he had never +before suffered in all his life. He said to himself, "My heart is +bleeding," and he felt as if this sensation might be a reality. For a +long time he stood by his table quite still, heartless, hopeless, +aidless, almost senseless. He had expected a fight, but that his child +would be finally disobedient had been an incredulity to smile at. Yet he +had bid him farewell and had gone to face the world without either his +help or his counsel. + +He would take no lunch, nor would he see or speak to anyone. His heart +and brain seemed stupefied by this irreparable sorrow that had so +suddenly ruined all his happiness. He tried to think of it as appointed +and inevitable, but his heart would not listen to such a suggestion. It +told him plainly that many times all had depended on his own yes or no; +that a step forward, a look of kindness, a gesture of entreaty would +have prevented it. He understood at that hour that sorrow has only the +weapons we ourselves give her. + +The call to lunch broke the dumb stupidity which had followed the blow +of Donald's farewell. Thoughts of what the Church and friends would say +began to pierce through the first black despair of his personal feelings +and, as the clock struck two, a great change occurred. In half an hour +the postman might bring him a letter from Lady Cramer--must bring him +one. He stood up, shook himself, and went into a small adjoining room +and washed his face and hands. The knowledge that she loved him went +like wine to his heart, and her letter would bring him great +consolation; he was sure of that. + +No young girl waiting for her first love letter ever watched more +feverishly for the tall, uniformed official that was to bring it. He was +ten minutes later than usual, ten minutes full of hope and despair, but +at length the letter was given to him. It was small and light, and he +weighed it in his right hand and was disappointed. He had hoped for a +long letter telling him of all his beloved was doing, and perhaps asking +him to visit her in London, and he had resolved to accept her invitation +as soon as it came. + +There was no sign of such favor in the few hastily written lines he held +in his hand. + + DEAR IAN--You know that I love you, and I would like to tell + you so one thousand times in this little letter. I am, however, + in a tumult of hurry and preparation, for I am going to Paris + this afternoon with Lady Landgrave's party. We shall only be a + week, so do not get blue and think I have deserted you. I shall + write you a long letter from Paris, if I can find one hour by + myself. Yours, + + Ada. + +He threw the tiny note down on the table. He was in one of those +atavistic rages which should have revealed to him the original type of +bare-armed thanes from whom he was descended. His grandfather, in the +same insurrection of feeling, would have instantly put his hand on his +dirk. With a slow passion Dr. Macrae tore the offending letter into +minute pieces, and then dropped them on the burning coals, and his face +and movements during the act had a black expression of anger and +contempt. None the less he suffered, none the less he would have taken +the offending woman with unspeakable joy to his heart. + +But this tempest of rage calmed him. After it he sat down like a man +exhausted, and he wished to weep but would not. "It has been a +calamitous morning," he whispered, "but what is ordered must be borne. +If the lad would only come back! If he would only come back! But he will +not--he will not--he will never come back. I must get myself +together--there are other things, yes, there is Ada. As Donald was +preparing to leave me, she was coming for my consolation." + +Then he remembered that he had a session that night at the Church of the +Disciples--a session regarding the expenses of the coming year, and not +to be neglected. He dressed leisurely for the meeting, and then was +sensibly hungry and wished his dinner was ready. When the little silver +bell tinkled he needed no other call and, with a preoccupied air, took +his place at the table. He could see that Mrs. Caird had been crying, +and Marion was white and silent with a trace of indignation in her +manner. But, when her father clasped her hand as he took his seat and +smiled faintly, she returned his clasp and smile and looked at her aunt +with an expression that seemed to plead for tolerance. + +At the beginning of the meal there was little conversation, but when the +family were alone, Mrs. Caird said, "I hope you are feeling better, Ian. +What at all was the matter with you at the lunch hour?" + +"I was not sick. I was very wretched, and could not eat." + +"Donald, poor lad! I suppose?" + +"Just so. Donald has treated me in a very ungrateful and disobedient +manner. I know not how I can bear it." + +"Forgive him." + +"I have forgiven so often." + +"That is the way. The best children are aye doing something wrong, +forgive Donald as you go along. It is God's way with yourself, Ian." + +"His behavior has destroyed my happiness." + +"Perhaps, also, you have destroyed his happiness. Everyone has their own +kind of happiness, but you want everyone to be happy in your way or not +be happy at all. I call that even down selfishness. Ian, you have made a +great blunder. I only hope it will not be followed by a great penalty." + +"Blunder! Yes, if it be a blunder to take a man out of temptation and +put him under the best of influences." + +"You think college life the best of influences?" + +"It is better than wandering about the country as a musician, however +clever he is, must do." + +"But Donald likes wandering. He wants to see the wide world over." + +"A roving life, Jessy, leads to wavering principles. How can a man be +religious who has no settled church? Already, Donald disbelieves in the +creed his father preaches, and a man without a creed is a loose-at-ends +Christian. General scepticism will succeed it, and scepticism poisons +all the wells of life and undermines the foundations of morality." + +"Donald is no sceptic. He is a God-loving, God-fearing lad. You'll be to +excuse me now. I have a sore headache and I want to be alone." + +So she went to her room and Dr. Macrae was much annoyed at her air of +injury and sorrow. + +"Your aunt is fretting about Donald," he said. "Donald has behaved very +cruelly to me, Marion. I suppose you know how." + +"About college, Father?" + +"Yes. I begged him, for his own good, to go to St. Andrews, and he +flatly refused, bid me farewell, and left his home." + +"Did you not ask him where he was going?" + +"No." + +"I am so sorry." + +"I knew you would be sorry for me. Never would Marion treat her father +in a way so disrespectful and disobedient, eh, dear?" + +"While I live I never will say farewell to you, my dear Father." + +"You will always obey my wishes, I know." + +"When I can, yes, when I can I will always gladly obey them." + +"Do I not know what is best for you?" + +"Not always, you might be wrong sometimes, Father--everybody is wrong +sometimes--but, even so, I would obey you if I could." + +"You mean that if you could not you would take your own way?" + +"Not exactly." + +"And say farewell to me and leave your home?" + +"I would never say farewell to you. I do not think I would leave my home +in any such way." + +"What would you do?" + +"Love you and die daily at your side. When you saw me suffering you +would give me my desire, because it would be my life." + +"I would not. If confident I was right I would not do wrong to please +you. And it would be far better for you to die than to make yourself a +wanderer in improper company and a prodigal daughter." + +"Father, fear to say such words. I am God's daughter. I am your daughter +and I do not forget I am a daughter of the honorable clan of Macrae. +Such words are an insult to me, to yourself, and to every Macrae, living +or dead." She rose as she spoke and with a white, angry look was leaving +the room when her father laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder and +said: + +"Promise me you will not marry anyone without my consent." + +"For nearly two years, Father, I could only make a runaway marriage, +liable to be temporarily broken at your will." + +"Why do you say temporarily?" + +"Because, if I loved any man well enough to run away with him I should +stay with him forever. You might sever us 'temporarily,' but I should go +back to him as soon as I went twenty-one and marry him over again," and +her face flushed crimson, and she lifted her brimming eyes to her father +and added: + +"But all the time I should love you. I should never say farewell to you. +To the end of my life, throughout all eternity, I should be your +daughter, and you would be my dear, dear Father. Is not that so? Yes, it +is! It is!" + +He looked at her with a swelling heart full of intense admiration and +unbounded love. He could have struck and kissed her at the same moment, +but he could find no words to answer her loving question. So he lifted +his hand from her proud, indignant form and, with such a sob as may come +from a breaking heart, he turned from her to go to his study. She could +not bear it. When the parlor door shut, that piteous cry was still in +her ears, and she hastened to the study after him. But just as she +reached the door she heard the key turn in its lock. + +Then she fled upstairs and found her aunt lying still in the +semidarkness of her room. "Aunt! Aunt!" she cried in a passion of tears, +"I cannot bear it! No, I cannot bear it! My poor Father! Someone ought +to think of his feelings. Yes, indeed they ought." + +"It seems to me, Marion, that you are busy enough in that way. What is +the matter with the Minister now?" + +Then Marion, with many tears and protestations, related her conversation +with her father, and Mrs. Caird listened as one destitute of much +sympathy, and, when she spoke, her words were not more comforting. + +"You are a half-and-half creature, Marion; neither here nor there, +neither this, that, nor what not. Why didn't you speak plainly to him as +your brother did? Mind this! You can't move the Minister with tears and +a mouthful of good words. Not you! He will keep up his threep like a +gamecock till he dies with it in his last crow. I'm telling you--heed me +or not--I am telling you the truth." + +"No, he will not, Aunt." + +"Such to-and-fro words as you gave him! He'll build his own way strong +as Gibraltar upon them. See if he doesn't. Your fight is all to do over, +but, as you have taken the matter in your own hands, you and him for +it." + +"O Aunt! I am so miserable." + +"Well, then, I have seen lately that you are never happy unless you are +miserable." + +"I have not heard from Richard, either yesterday or to-day." + +"What is that! At your age I was very proud and satisfied with a love +letter once in a fortnight. That's enough in all conscience." + +"Two weeks! If Richard was so long silent it would kill me." + +"Have you any more nonsense to talk?" + +"Aunt, do not be cross with me. I thought you were as full of trouble as +I am. Why else did you come here?" + +"Partly to keep the doors of my lips shut, and partly to think. I am not +full of trouble. I cannot do as I wish to do, but I have a Friend who +does all things well. And, when it is my time to act, I shall be ready +to act. Now go to your sleeping place and dream without care sitting on +your heart; then in the morning you can rise with a clear, trusting +soul, such as God loves." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +MARION DECIDES + + "Love is indestructible, + Its holy flame forever burneth, + From heaven it came, to heaven returneth. + + "Love is the secret sympathy, + The silver link, the silken tie, + Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, + In body and in soul can bind." + + +After Donald left his father he went straight to his aunt's room and, +when she had finished making her pastry, she found him there, nursing +his anger and sorrow with passionate tears and words of +self-justification. He had kept a brave face to his father, but to his +aunt-mother he wept out all his trouble, and he was comforted as one +whom his mother comforteth. When Dr. Macrae asked her if she knew where +Donald was she had truthfully answered, "No," but she instantly +suspected, and shortened her work as much as possible in order to go to +him. + +They talked cautiously of his plans and prospects and, when dinner time +arrived, she surreptitiously carried him a good meal upstairs; for she +was not willing that the servants should discuss Donald's quarrel with +his father--the Master being to them, first of all, an ecclesiastic with +a suggestion of the surplice ever around him. She knew their sympathy +would veer decidedly toward the Master, for Donald played the "wee +sinfu' fiddle" too much, and, as he went through the halls and parlors, +was always whistling some irreligious reel, or strathspey, forbye hardly +keeping himself from dancing it. + +He was in his aunt's sitting-room while Marion related to her the +conversation she had just had with her father and, no doubt, Mrs. +Caird's short and rather indifferent attention to her niece's trouble +arose from the stress of his unacknowledged presence. For Donald had +begged not to see Marion that evening. "She will ask me all kinds of +questions about Richard," he said, "questions I cannot answer until I +see him." So Marion felt as if she had been snubbed and sent off to bed +with a little sermon just when she wanted to talk of Richard more than +she had ever before done. Mrs. Caird explained the circumstances to her +the following day, but she was more offended than satisfied by the +explanation. + +"You supposed, Aunt," she answered, "that I was so selfish as to be +insensible to Donald's anxiety and trouble, and would put my own before +his. You must have a poor opinion of me. It hurts me." + +"You are too sensitive, Marion. Donald is going away from us." + +"Where is he going to?" + +"He does not know until he hears from Richard." + +"Where is Richard? I have not had a letter from him in two days." + +"I do not know--exactly." + +"Nor do I. He told me that he was going to see Lady Cramer about the +settlement of his debt to her. It is shameful in her to press it." + +"Not at all. It is her right. He said that himself." + +"I did not mind getting no letter yesterday, but here is another day +nearly gone, and I do not expect to sleep a moment to-night. I am so +anxious about him." + +"Preserve us all! What are you talking about? It is fairly sinful of you +to be making trouble where there is none. That is the way to worry love +to death, if so be you want that result." + +"You care for no one but Donald now, Aunt." + +"You are not far wrong. Donald is in trouble." + +"You love Donald best." + +"I like Donald's way best. There is no shilly-shallying with Donald. I +like a definite 'Yes' and 'No' in answer to important questions." + +"Women cannot get into passions and say unladylike words, especially to +their fathers. You taught me that yourself. 'Exceed in nothing. Be +moderate in all things.' These were among your regular advices." + +"All right. Moderation is a very respectable word. I wish you would +apply it to the subject of letters." + +"You are cross with me, Aunt, and without any reason." + +"Reason enough when I see you worrying yourself--and me, also--about the +coming of a letter from your lover; and caring nothing about the going +away--perhaps forever--of your own brother. Kin is closer than all other +ties--ever and always, blood is thicker than water." + +Then Marion was angry. "I am glad I was respectful and moderate with +Father," she said haughtily. "He is the best and greatest of men. He is +the Minister of God. I cannot be too respectful. I intend----" + +"To marry Allan Reid and send away Richard Cramer. Good girl! I wish you +joy of your choice--such as it is." + +For six days the partial estrangement lasted, but Marion and her father +seemed to enjoy the interval. They were much together, and Mrs. Caird +was frequently startled by the Minister's hearty laugh over some of +Marion's observations, and once by his actually joining her in singing +that tender little love song, "My Love's in Germany." + + "My love's in Germany, + Send him hame! Send him hame! + My love's in Germany, + Fighting for loyalty, + He may ne'er his Jeannie see, + Send him hame! Send him hame!" + +The enthralling longing and sweetness of this melody doubtless echoed +the dearest wish of both hearts; for, if Marion was watching for Richard +Cramer, the Minister had an equal fervor of desire for his beautiful +Ada. + +For a week there appeared to be no change in affairs, but the slight +feeling of separation or estrangement did not trouble Mrs. Caird. She +knew that Donald was with his Uncle Hector, and would be there until +Richard's return; then, it would be time enough for her to interfere, if +interference was necessary. But during this interval, Donald had +requested her to give no one any information as to his whereabouts. For, +though his uncle had sheltered him readily and kindly, he had also said: + +"Mind this, Donald. You are to keep a close mouth about Uncle Hector. I +could not endure every woman in the Church of the Disciples clacking +with their neighbor concerning the sin of my encouraging you in your +disobedience against your father. You are freely welcome, laddie, but +you must be quiet for a few days. I have written to Richard to hurry +himself here, for reasons of my own, as well as yours. I see you are +wondering at my writing to Lord Cramer." + +"I did not know you were friendly--that is all." + +"I knew the present Lord Cramer when you were in petticoats and ankle +bands. The late Lord Cramer and I fished in Cromarty Bay, and hunted on +Cromarty Hills together half a century ago. When he got the estate into +trouble it was my care and skill saved it from roup and rent rack. Then +he married his second wife, a butterfly of a woman who wasted and helped +her stepson to waste, and I knew well things were going wrong long +before the old lord died." + +"Richard told me," said Donald, "that it was not so much the amount he +was owing as the people to whom it was due that had made him resolve to +retire for awhile and let the income of the estate have time to pay its +debts." + +"He is right. His stepmother is a large creditor and she bores him. The +Jews come next and, sleeping or waking, they are robbing him. We are +going to stop all such plundering; then, if he will be quiet a short +time, he will be in comfortable circumstances. He tells me he is going +to marry Marion, and I am bound to make things as pleasant as possible +for my niece. Forbye I have a liking for the young man on his own +account." + +"You will then be uncle to a lord, if you are caring for such mere +words." + +"I am uncle to _the Macrae_, that is honor enough. The Macraes are a far +older and more honorable family than the Cramers; 'by our permission' +they settled in Cromarty--well, well, this is old world talk, and means +nothing to the matter in hand. You will stay quietly here till I have +done with Richard." + +"Will you require him long, Uncle?" + +"A day will be sufficient. I only want his authority to use his name to +papers necessary to carry out my plans for his relief." Then he laughed +and, clapping his hands resoundingly, cried out, "Great Scot! How amazed +he will be to learn of his good luck!" + +"Oh, I hope he has some good luck! He is such a fine fellow!" + +"Luck! Wonderful luck! Undreamed of good luck. But that is the way +godsends come--steal round a corner of your life, and stand at your +door, and never sign or whisper before them." + +"If I have to stay a few days, Uncle, is there not something I can do to +earn my bread while I wait?" + +"Plenty of writing you can do; only, you'll not write a line to your +sister. If you do, she will come with her own answer, all smiles and +tears and compliments, things I can't stand against, and won't try to." + +"I will not write to Marion at all. I must write to my aunt. She will +tell no one. I will swear it for her." + +"As far as I know, your aunt is a prudent, douce woman; but crooked and +straight are all women, uncertain, Donald, uncertain as the law." + +"Not so with aunt. Jessy Caird is straight all through and at all +times." + +"I'll take your word for her. It is only for an odd occasion; one +promise at a time is as far as I durst trust myself with any woman." + +So Mrs. Caird was not astonished when, one morning in the early part of +the following week, Lord Cramer entered the Minister's parlor while the +family were at breakfast. He held Marion's hand while he offered his +other hand to Dr. Macrae; and Dr. Macrae took it, though Mrs. Caird +noticed that he left the table while doing so, saying he had finished +his breakfast and, when Lord Cramer had done likewise, he would be glad +if he would come into his study for a little conversation. "And, pray," +he added, "how was Lady Cramer when you left her?" + +"In the finest of health and spirits," was the answer. "Indeed, sir, you +would vow she was but twenty years old. She is the gayest of the gay, +and outdresses the Parisians." + +Dr. Macrae bowed, but made no answer, and Mrs. Caird, who knew every +phase and mood of the man's temper, was quite sure that no words could +have translated that silence. It was like a black frost. For he had in +his breast pocket a letter from Lady Cramer, received an hour +previously, in which she described herself as really ill with longing +for him, having no heart for the follies and gaieties of Paris and +seldom going out. Further, she declared that nothing but the wretched +climate of Scotland kept her from flying back to Cramer and to him; but +her cough troubled her in damp weather, and she felt herself frail, and +wished to get well and strong for his sake. + +"And I have been believing and pitying this lying woman!" he said in an +awful whisper, as he took the false message from his breast, and with a +silent rage savagely placed his foot upon it. "I will never write +another word to this shameless creature! I will never speak to her +again! If she sought her pardon at my feet, I would spurn her from me," +and to such passionate evil promises he trod the lying letter under his +foot. Then he sat down, erect and motionless, with eyes fixed and arms +folded across his breast. For, though trouble with the majority runs +into motion, with Dr. Macrae it gathered itself together, and in a +still, dumb intentness thought out how best to suffer or to do. + +Fortunately Richard had so much to say to Marion that his breakfast +occupied him nearly a couple of hours, and by that time Dr. Macrae had +decided on his course. He was now more than ever determined to prevent +his daughter's marriage to Lord Cramer. How could he permit her to come +under the influence of a woman so wicked as Lady Cramer? She would +either alienate his daughter from him or she would alienate her husband, +and make his child a wronged and miserable wife. To prevent this +marriage had suddenly become the most imperative duty of his life. + +Really, from Dr. Macrae's point of view, there was nothing favorable for +Marion in it. He held his uncle's ideas with regard to the superior +nobility of the Macraes; he did not like Lord Cramer personally, and he +believed him to be much poorer than he really was. With the pertinacity +of his race he still clung to the Reid alliance. He told himself that +circumstances have a kind of omnipotence, and that any day they might +alter affairs so radically that Marion might come to see things as he +did. "If Cramer would only go to the other side of the earth," he +whispered, "it would leave a vacuum in Marion's life. Nature abhors a +vacuum; she would hasten to fill it, and there is the possibility--yes, +the likelihood--that Allan might slip into that other man's place, or +the other man might be killed--or he might see someone he liked better +than Marion--if Richard Cramer would only go away--if he would only go +forever--yes, forever! It is no sin to wish a bad man to his deserts." + +At this reflection Richard Cramer entered the room, and the first words +he uttered seemed to promise a realization of Dr. Macrae's desire. + +"Well, sir," he said, as he took the chair Dr. Macrae indicated, "well, +sir, I am going with the Enniskillen Dragoons to India next week, but +our route is far north, and so we shall doubtless escape the cholera." + +"But not the warlike native tribes?" + +"We are going to turn them into peaceable tribes." + +"Not an easy task." + +"It will be done." + +"Yes--finally." + +"Sir, you must know that I have loved your daughter ever since I first +saw her. I ask your permission to make her my wife." + +Dr. Macrae remained silent. + +"I cannot bear the idea of waiting for nearly two years." + +"You will be compelled to wait." + +"Sir?" + +"It is my will that you wait." + +"Marion wishes to go with me." + +"Have you asked her to go with you?" + +"Not definitely, but----" + +"Ah! I thought so." + +"I will ask her to go with me now, and she will go." + +"She will not. I forbid it. She will be her own mistress in twenty +months. She can marry you then--if she wishes. But I advise you to give +her up." + +"Never! Until Marion gives me up I will never give Marion up. I swear +it!" + +"She is my daughter for twenty months longer. Time is sure to bring +changes. Even now she would not leave me to go with you to India. You +must be mad to imagine such a thing." + +"I am in love. I trust her love by my own. She will do as I wish." + +"She will keep faith with her father. You shall see that," and he rose, +threw open the door of the room, and called imperatively, + +"_Marion!_" + +"Yes, Father," was the ready answer. "Do you want me?" + +"Yes. Come quickly." + +Lord Cramer had followed him into the hall, and when Dr. Macrae +perceived this some innate, in-born sense of courtesy due the stranger +within his gate caused him to return at once to his study. In two or +three minutes Cramer followed. He had Marion's hand in his, and Mrs. +Caird was but a few steps behind. She entered the room with them, and +Dr. Macrae looked at her not very pleasantly. + +"I did not call you, Jessy," he said. + +"I am aware of that fact, Ian," she answered. "I called myself." + +"We are not requiring your presence." + +"I was never more needed. What for are you wanting Marion?" + +"You can stay and hear, if you wish." + +Then Dr. Macrae took the chair at his desk, and Marion and Lord Cramer +stood before him. Their hands were still clasped, and unconsciously +Marion leaned slightly toward her lover. The transfiguration of love +suffused her face, and she stood smiling in all its glory. Dr. Macrae +was struck afresh by a beauty he had hitherto regarded too little. He +saw in her at this hour the noblest type of Celtic loveliness--its +winning face, splendid form, rich coloring, all vivified by a +well-cultivated intellect, and made charming and winsome by childlike +confidence and simplicity. For a moment his heart swelled with pride as +the sense of his fatherhood flashed over him. + +"Marion," he said not unkindly, "Marion, Lord Cramer tells me you are +willing to go to India with him. I cannot believe it." + +"I have promised Richard to be his wife, so then, wherever he dwells, +there my home will be. Is not that right, Father?" + +"Yes, under proper conditions. But a promise made out of law and time is +no promise. The law of your native land forbids you to make that +promise, without my consent, until you are twenty-one years old." + +"What right has the law of England to interfere with my marriage?" Then +she laughed cheerfully, and said, "But it is no matter, dear Father, for +you are above the law in this case. You have only to say, 'I do not want +to delay or spoil your happiness, Marion; I am quite willing you should +marry----'" + +"Marion, it would be impossible for me to say such words. How can I be +willing for you to go to a country so far off--a country full of deadly +diseases and constant fighting--where the heat is intolerable and savage +beasts, treacherous men and deadly serpents abound everywhere--yes, +where even the insect life makes human existence a constant torture." + +"Father, many delicately nurtured women brave all these things, for +their husbands' sakes." + +"Yes, and the majority die in doing so. That is, however, your side of +the question. But I also have a definite right in this matter, a direct +ethical right, which in the stress of this unhappy hour I feel fully +justified in claiming. In my favor the law considers that for nineteen +years I have had all the care, anxiety and expense of your feeding, +clothing and education--that I have provided you with teachers and +physicians, and looked after your religious instruction." + +"I cannot see that there was any necessity for the law of the land to be +looking after your rights in respect to the care and education of the +children," said Mrs. Caird. "The interest of Marion's money paid both +Marion's and Donald's expenses excepting----" + +"I am stating the conditions and provisions of a law, Jessy, not any +particular application of it." + +"Then what for are you naming its application to yourself?" + +Dr. Macrae ignored Mrs. Caird's question, and continued: "This law +argues, and very justly, that a girl who has received nineteen years of +unlimited love and attention of all kinds should remain until she is +twenty-one to brighten her parents' home, learn how to estimate their +affection and goodness to her, and get some ideas concerning the world +into which she may finally go. It permits her parents, also, to bring +proper lovers to her notice, and to point out the faults of those not +worthy of her regard. It is a law that all girls with money of their own +should rigorously observe;" and in making this last remark Dr. Macrae +looked so pointedly at Lord Cramer that he was quite justified in +defending himself. + +"Minister Macrae," he said, "I have never supposed that Marion had any +fortune; if she has, I want none of it. You ought to know that. Not a +penny piece." And he raised his head proudly and drew Marion closer to +his side, and whispered a word or two, which she answered by a bright, +loving smile, and an emphatic, "No!" + +"Marion has twenty thousand pounds from her mother," said Dr. Macrae. +"She has a very wealthy uncle who will not forget her--and other +relatives." + +"You need not count Jessy Caird among 'the other relatives,' Ian. My +money is all going to Donald--every bawbee of it." + +Dr. Macrae looked at her, and then continued: "My dear Marion, the case +is now fully stated to you. You are your own judge. I am at your mercy"; +and he stood up and regarded the poor girl with eyes from which his +passionate soul radiated an influence that it was almost impossible to +resist. + +"O Father!" she cried, "what is it you wish?" + +"That you should deal justly with me. If you have no love left for your +father, at least give him justice." + +"You mean that I must pay you the toll of two years' love service for my +support and education?" + +"Yes." + +Then she turned to her lover and put her hands upon his shoulders. Her +cheeks were flaming and her eyes brimming with tears. "Good-bye, +Richard!" she cried. "Good-bye, dearest of all! I must pay this debt. My +Father refuses to release me. I must free myself." + +"This decision is what I expected from my daughter," said Dr. Macrae, +and he rose and went to her side and took her hand. + +"One moment, sir!" said Richard, with all the scorn imaginable; "and, +Marion, my darling, remember in one year, seven months and eleven days I +shall come for you. It is dreadful to leave you so long in the power of +a man so cruel and so wickedly selfish, but----" + +"Our interview is over, Lord Cramer, and I do not forget that abuse is +the privilege of the defeated." + +Richard was holding Marion's hands, looking into her dear face, +listening to her short, quick words of devotion, and he never answered +Dr. Macrae one word, but the look on Lord Cramer's face, his defiant +attitude, and his marked and intentional silence were the most +unbearable of repartees. He glanced then at Mrs. Caird, and, putting +Marion's arm through his own, they passed out of the room together. Dr. +Macrae was furious, but Mrs. Caird stepped between him and the lovers, +and, while Richard was kissing and comforting his betrothed, and +promising to come again that night for a last interview, there were some +straight, never-to-be-forgotten words passing between the Minister and +his sister-in-law. + +No one that day wanted dinner. Mrs. Caird and Marion had a cup of tea in +Mrs. Caird's parlor, and the Minister refused to open his door or answer +anyone that spoke to him. But the maids in the kitchen, as they ate an +unusually long and hearty meal, were sure the Minister was right and +Mrs. Caird and Miss Marion wrong. In those days Scotchmen were always +right in any domestic dispute, and the women always wrong. For six +thousand years of strict wife culture had taught women not only to give +three-fourths of the apple to man, but also to assume all the blame of +their enjoyment of it. + +What the Minister suffered and did in those lonely hours between morning +and evening no one but God knew. There was not a movement in the room +nor any sound of a human voice, either in prayer or complaint. Dr. +Macrae was not a praying man--what Calvinist can be? If all this trouble +had come of necessity, if it had been foreordained, how could he either +reason with God or entreat Him for its removal? It was in some way or +other necessary to the divine scheme of events; it would be a grave +presumption to desire its removal. + +Always questions of this kind had stood between God and Dr. Macrae, so +that he considered private prayer a dangerous freedom with the purpose +of the Eternal. Alas! he did not realize that we are members of that +mysterious Presence of God in which we live and move and have our being; +and that, as speech is the organ of human intercourse, so prayer is the +organ of divine fellowship and divine training. He had long ceased to +pray, and they who do not use a gift lose it; just as a man who does not +use a limb loses power in it. Poor soul! How could he know that prayer +prevails with God? How could he know? + +Marion had, however, the promise of a farewell visit in the evening, and +what had not been said in the morning's interview could then be +remedied. For this visit she prepared herself with loving carefulness, +putting on the pale blue silk, with pretty laces and fresh ribbons, +which was Richard's favorite, and adding to its attractions a scarlet +japonica in her black hair. She knew that she had never looked lovelier, +and after her father had left the house she began to watch for her +lover. Richard was aware that the Minister was due at his vestry at +half-past seven, and Marion was sure that Richard would be with her by +that time. He was not. At eight o'clock he had neither come nor sent any +explanation of his broken tryst. By this time she could not speak and +she could not sit still. At nine o'clock she whispered, "He is not +coming. I am going to my room." + +"Wait a little longer, dear," said Mrs. Caird. + +"There is no use, Aunt. He is not coming. I can feel it." + +And Marion's feelings were correct. Richard neither came nor sent any +explanation of his absence, and the miserable girl was distracted by her +own imaginations. In the morning she was so ill her aunt would not +permit her to rise. Hour after hour they sat together, trying to evoke +from their fears and feelings the reason for conduct so unlike Richard +Cramer's usual kindness and respect. + +"He has concluded to decline a marriage so offensive to my father," said +Marion. "I have thought of his behavior all night long, Aunt, and this +is the only reason he can possibly have." + +By afternoon Mrs. Caird was weary of this never-ceasing iteration, and +finally agreed with her niece. Then Marion had a pitiful storm of +weeping, and, after she had been a little comforted, Mrs. Caird suddenly +said, with a voice and expression of hope, "I know what to do. Why did I +not think of it before?" + +"What will you do, Aunt? What will you do?" + +"I will go and see your uncle. He can clear up the mystery--if there is +one. It is now two o'clock. I will go straight about the business. At +the worst I can but fail, and I never do fail if there is any +probability to work on. Wait hopefully for an hour or two, and I will be +back with good news, no doubt." + +Then she dressed herself with some care, and, calling a cab, drove to +Major Macrae's house in Blytheswood Square. It was a handsome, +self-contained dwelling with business offices at the back. There was no +intimation of this purpose, but the visitors who went there on business +knew the plain green door that admitted them to chambers about which +there was an atmosphere of great concerns and aristocratic +business--perhaps also of some mystery. The latter distinction suited +Macrae; it was necessary to the class of clients with whom he did the +most of his business. + +It clung also to himself, almost as if it was a natural characteristic. +No man of wealth and prominence was so little known and so much +misunderstood, but he was amused, rather than annoyed, by the variety of +opinions concerning him, holding himself always a little apart, so as to +be in important matters a final judge or director. He had quite as much +temper as his nephew, but it was better in kind and surer in control. +His intellect was broad and clear, his love of literature knew no +limitation, and in religious matters he trusted no living man. He was a +master among his fellows, and he did not give women any opportunities to +influence him. It was known that he had positively refused to attend to +the business of ladies of high birth and great wealth, and even his +house servants were all young men, noiseless, silent, thoroughly trained +for the work they had to do. + +All these real peculiarities, with many others not as real, were +familiar to Mrs. Caird, and at a little earlier date she would never +have thought of calling on him. But Donald's opinion of his uncle had +entirely changed her own, and she looked forward with a pleasant +curiosity to an opportunity to form her own estimate. She found him in a +fortunate mood. He was taking his afternoon smoke when her card was +given to him, and it roused instantly in his mind a curiosity to see +whether Donald's love and lauding of Aunt Caird were worth anything. +Also he liked to know the innermost coil of an untoward or unhappy +circumstance, and he was not sure that either Donald or Richard had made +a naked confession to him. In this family affair he felt sure Mrs. Caird +might be the key to the situation. + +So he rose with great cordiality to meet her, and a moment's glance at +the pretty woman so handsomely dressed, so well poised, so smiling and +good-mannered, thoroughly satisfied him. With the grace and courtesy of +a man used to the best society, he placed a chair near his own for her, +and during that act Mrs. Caird made a swift but correct estimate of the +man she had to manage. Physically he had the great stature and dark +beauty of his family. His hair was still black, his eyes large and gray, +with a courageous twinkle in the iris, his figure erect, his walk +soldierly, his manner commanding. He impressed a stranger as tough, +unconquerable, fearless, like an ash tree, yielding very slowly, even to +time. + +"Now, Mrs. Caird," he said, as he seated himself beside her, "I know you +have not come to call on me without a reason. Is it about the children?" + +"Just that, Major, and thank you for coming to the point at once. I am +very unhappy about Donald." + +"Let me tell you Donald has taken the road of happiness to his own +desires. To ware your sympathy on Donald is pure wastrie. The lad is +happy." + +"Where is he?" + +"I could not tell you, unless I was at sea, and taking his latitude and +longitude." + +"Where is he going?" + +"To New York--perhaps." + +"America?" + +"Ay, America is the second native land of all not satisfied with their +first one." + +"Have you any address through which a letter would reach him in New +York?" + +"Ay, I have." + +"I want to send him one hundred pounds. Will you send it for me?" + +"No, I will not. There will be three hundred pounds lying in the Bank of +New York for him when he gets there, and he had sixty pounds with him. +That is enough at present. He can make a spoon or spoil the horn with +that." + +"Is he going to stop in New York?" + +"Not long. New Yorkers are very easy with their money. They'll give it +away for a song that pleases them--or a lilt on the wee fiddle--or even +a few steps of clever dancing." + +"I know someone, not far from me, just as easy with their money--under +the same circumstances." + +Then the Major laughed. "You are right, Mrs. Caird," he said. "I declare +you are right. Oh, but you are a quick woman!" + +"Well, after he has done with New York, where is he then going?" + +"Straight west as far as the Mississippi River. What he will do on the +way to the river no one knows--but luck is waiting for him." + +"Perhaps he will go to California." + +"No. California gold does not tempt him. He is going down the +Mississippi to New Orleans. A good many Scotch boys are there. I gave +him letters to three whom I sent to New Orleans fourteen years ago. They +are well-to-do cotton merchants now." + +"You help a great many men, Major?" + +"These three smoked their pipes with me in the trenches at Redan; and we +rode together down the red lanes of Inkerman. I was making friends for +Donald then." + +"But Donald will not stay in the city of New Orleans?" + +"Would Donald stay in any city? As soon as he wishes it he will journey +for that land of God called Texas. If I had been twenty years younger, I +would have gone with him--just for a sight of the place. Glorious +things are told of it--you would think it was the New Jerusalem itself." + +"Once I heard Richard Cramer say that he was going there to stay with a +friend. Why did you send him to the army?" + +"Did I send him?" + +"He told us you advised the army." + +"Ay, but _sending_ and _advising_ are very different terms." + +"In your mouth, Major, they would be the same." + +Then the Major laughed again and answered: "You have a wonderful +perception, Mrs. Caird. I dare say Cramer told you to what locality in +Texas he was going? Donald is now going there for him." + +"He spoke most of the immense ranch of Lord Thomas Carew. He said he had +bought with his inheritance as a younger son a dukedom of the richest +and loveliest land in the world--somewhere on the Guadaloupe River, not +far from San Antonio. It was like listening to a fairy tale to hear him +describe its beauties. And he said that last summer the ladies, Alice +and Annie Carew, accompanied by their eldest brother, visited Lord +Thomas; and that, after four months' stay in his handsome bungalow, when +they had to return to England, Lady Alice refused to leave Texas. He +thought she was still there." + +"She is. I had a letter from her father a week ago, and he told me Lord +Thomas and Lady Alice were yet living in Paradise. They are just 'Tom +and Alice Carew' there. Their life is absolutely free, simple and happy. +Titles would be too big a burden to carry, but they will be glad of +Donald's company, and make much of him, doubtless." + +"They will that. Oh, the dear, dear, joyful singing lad!" and, though +Mrs. Caird's voice was low and soft, there was a caress in every word +she spoke. + +The Major looked at her with pleasure, and then asked, "How is Donald's +sister? Is she as lovable and handsome as her brother?" + +"Whiles--in a woman's way--yes. Her father's heart is set on her, and +she is breaking her heart about Richard Cramer's going to India. What +for, at all, did you send him?" + +"Me send him?" + +"Yes, you." + +"Well, as you are a wise woman, and love all of the three youngsters, +I'll tell you. I sent Richard Cramer out of my way. I sent him where he +could not meddle or interfere with what I am doing to make him solvent +and happy. And I wanted him to be under authority a little before I put +him in full possession of a big estate, free of debt. He has had too +much of his own way--he is obeying orders now--that's good for him." + +"But when you set him free, what then?" + +"He will marry Marion Macrae, and I count on a Macrae--man or +woman--getting their full share of their own way in all things." + +"Why did he not come and bid Marion good-bye last night? She is fairly +ill this morning. Why did he not come?" + +"Because, while the Minister and he were explaining themselves, a +telegram came ordering him to join his ship without a moment's delay. +She was going to sail Thursday, instead of Saturday. I had two men +seeking him, and his valet had packed his valise, and he had twenty +minutes to reach his train. He could not have written her, even a line, +if someone had not been thoughtful enough to have paper and pencil ready +to push into his hand." + +"Then he did write to her?" + +"Ay, he wrote to her. Poor lad, he was near to crying as he did so." + +"She never got that letter." + +"My certie! I forgot it! Will you take it?" + +"Will I take it? It is what I came for. Goodness! Gracious! Only to +think of you keeping what may be his last message to her! O man, how +could you? It is a cruel-like thing to do. It was that." + +"I am very sorry for it. I quite forgot. I am not used to sending love +letters. I never was in love in my life." + +"I am not believing you. No, sir! I am sure some good woman's love +sweetened the dour, ill-tempered Macrae blood in your heart. Think +backward a matter of forty years and you will maybe remember her name." + +He looked at Mrs. Caird in amazement, and then lifted her hand, "You are +right," he answered slowly. "I remember her, a dear, sweet girl, fresh +and pure as the mountain bluebells she had in her hand when we first +met. She died one morning--whispering my name as she went. I loved her! +Yes, I loved her!" + +"Good man! I am glad you told me. I know you now, and I am not feared +for you any longer. Give me Marion's letter." + +"Cannot you stay half an hour longer?" + +"Not now." + +"I want to talk to you about Ian." + +"You had better talk to him. He is requiring some one to do so. He is +spelling life now with a woman's name." + +"Marion's?" + +"No." + +"The lovely widow Grant's?" + +"No. You must look higher up." + +"You don't--you can't mean Lady Cramer?" + +"Just Lady Cramer." + +"The mischief! Is it true?" + +"True? I should say so. I am living at his side, and love and a cold +can't be hid. Forbye, he is reading books he has no business to read, +and writing letters he ought not to write--love letters." + +"Why should he not write love letters if he wishes to do so?" + +"Because I am sure my Lady Cramer is only making a fool of him." + +"It would be most like her--though mind you, Mrs. Caird, she is playing +with fire. Ian is a very fascinating man. She will likely get the +heartache herself she is sorting out for him. I'll have a talk with the +Minister. Think of him trusting that woman! the blind fool! the mortal +idiot!" + +"Not as bad as that." + +"Ay, and worse, if I had the words I want for his folly. Here is +Marion's letter. Tell her I am perfectly annoyed at myself for +forgetting it. She must forgive me." + +"Good-bye, Major. I am glad I came." + +"Good-bye. You are welcome here. I hope you will come again--soon." + +And oh, how welcome she was when she reached home. Marion was watching +for her, and when Mrs. Caird, as she left the cab, held up the letter +Marion was at the door to take it from her hand. Her eyes dilated with +rapture when she saw Richard's writing, and, after kissing and thanking +her aunt, she ran away with it to her room. There was no offense in +that--Mrs. Caird both understood and sympathized with the movement. And +when she went into the parlor, an hour afterward, she found Marion +rocking gently in the firelight and, with closed eyes, singing softly to +herself: + + "My heart is like a singing bird, + Whose nest is in a watered shoot; + My heart is like an apple-tree, + Whose boughs are bent with sweetest fruit; + My heart is like a rainbow shell, + That paddles in a halcyon sea; + My heart is gladder than all these, + Because my love has come to me." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MACRAE LEARNS A HARD LESSON + + "What though it be the last time we shall meet, + Raise your white brow and wreath of golden hair, + And fill with music sweet the summer air, + Not this again shall draw me to your feet, + Peace, let me go." + + +Joyful or sorrowful, the days go by. With what passes in the soul and +heart the hours meddle not, but over our physical life they are +relentless masters. No matter how full of trouble the heart is, we must +enter common life, must have dry eyes and take part in conversation; for +the moment we differ from everyone else everyone is surprised. The meals +are to be cooked, the parlor swept, callers are to be received, and +calls are to be made, and we must dress the body decorously for dinner, +though the heart and soul be sitting in sackcloth. Such experiences are +very costly; we pay for them with wearisome days and wakeful nights, +with wasted energies and lost illusions. + +Mrs. Caird lifted the life emptied of Donald with the serenity and +cheerfulness of her fine nature. She thought of him, and talked of him, +and watched for the letters that were sure to come to her, constantly +reminding herself how interesting they were certain to be and how glad +she was that her boy was having the dew of his youth. + +Marion felt the wrench of events more keenly. To the young everything +that comes to an end is the end of the world. No one can be so hopeless +as the young. It is the middle-aged and the old that have the power of +hoping on through everything, for they have come to the knowledge that +the soul survives all its disappointments and all its calamities. This +is the good wine God keeps for our latter days. Marion rallied as soon +as she received Richard's first letter from his ship; for it is the +sorrow not sure which we feel to be unbearable. That letter enabled her +to locate her lover, and, though the halo of distance and the mystery of +night travel were around him, her soul sought him out and found in the +romance of the situation some balm for her anxiety not without value. +For the young like to believe that their trials are not common trials, +and Marion knew of no girl whose lover had been torn from her side and +sent off to India for nearly two years without notice or preparation for +such an exile. The lovers of all her friends had been acceptable to +their parents, but her lover's proposal had been met by almost insolent +refusal and threat. And he was of ancient and noble lineage, and she +was certain none of the girls in the Church of the Disciples had ever +had a lord for a lover. She felt then that her grief was a very romantic +one, and when grief can consider its romantic features it is not far +from comfort. + +Indeed, in a month the home affairs of the Minister's house had their +settled regular observance. There had been happy letters from both +Richard and Donald, and there was the promise of a regular continuance +of this new element in their lives--an element of constant change and of +unusual events--conversations about letters received and sent--and the +looking forward to those journeying to them by day and night. These +things gave to their lives a sense of romance and of far-off happenings; +for our thoughts and conversation do affect our surroundings, just as +rain affects the atmosphere. + +It was not as well with the Minister as with his daughter and +sister-in-law. To him the world had become a bewildering maze of sorrow +and perplexity. Until his son had gone he had not realized how dear +Donald was to him. Now his empty place at the table was a constant +shock, his voice haunted the house, and he was sometimes so positive +that he heard him going upstairs, whistling "Listen to the Mocking +Bird," that he silently opened his study door to look and listen. And +though Marion had quickly gone back with all her heart to his fatherly +love, though she sat with him and read to him and sang to him, he missed +his boy. Oh, how he missed him! + +Not often did he receive any comfort from Lady Cramer. Sometimes she +ignored his complaints, sometimes made light of them, generally she told +him that her love ought to more than balance all his other love losses. +But nothing that she said had a tone of reality, nothing was +positive--she was going to stay all winter in Paris, she was coming to +London at Christmas time, she was too sick to go out in one letter, and +the next letter was perhaps only a list of invitations to a variety of +houses and amusements received, but which she had neither accepted nor +declined. + +Yet he loved her with a passionate affection, a love full grown in that +one wonderful hour when she made manifest to his suddenly awakened heart +her own love for him. It is said that when love flames before it burns +it dies quickly; but Ian's love, flaming in a moment, had stood within +the past three months all the tests that a capricious, absent woman +could give it. As Christmas approached he was in a fever of expectation, +and he told himself that she would now return to London and redeem all +her promises to him. + +He had made no confidant of his love affair with Lady Cramer, and +passion lived long in him, just as fire that is covered lives long. But +Mrs. Caird read his story as clearly as if he had put it into words. And +she was sorry for him, for the man's life had been broken to pieces, and +nothing that had once seemed of great importance to him was now cared +for. One morning near Christmas he packed, with angry haste, all the +papers and books left to him by the late Lord Cramer, and sent them to +the care of the steward at Cramer Hall. Mrs. Caird watched the +proceeding, but she made no remark, and when the carrier came to take +them away she was equally silent. She heard Ian give him a few short, +sharp directions, after which he put some money into his hand and then +went directly to his study. + +It was a wretched day, the heavy fog shrouded all things and fused the +melancholy noises of the street into a dull rumble, while a soft +drizzling rain added to the general depression. Through the misty +windows Mrs. Caird watched the man carrying the box to the cart which +would convey it to the railroad station. It was a plain wood box, much +longer than it was wide, and in the dim gray light it looked very like a +coffin. At any rate, it reminded Mrs. Caird of one, and she said to +herself: "It is really a coffin. What wrecked Faith and dead Hopes! What +memories of a life that can never come back it carries away!" + +It left the feeling of a funeral with her, and the feeling haunted her +all the day long. Late in the afternoon she went to her room to rest a +while, and she fell asleep and dreamed that the long white box was full +of slain souls, and it cost her a strong physical effort--an effort like +that of removing her clothes--to throw off her mind the uncanny +influence it had established. + +Then she remembered that Marion was going to a dinner and dance at +Deacon Lockerby's, and she hastened to her room to see if she was +preparing for the event. She found Marion fully dressed, and the girl +rose, smiling, shook out her pink tarlatan gown, and asked, "Am I pretty +enough to-night, Aunt?" + +"Quite," was the answer. "I wish Richard could see you. Where did you +get that exquisite lace bertha?" + +"Father went to Campbell's and bought it for me this morning. I told him +last night that I wanted a bertha, but disliked to go out in the fog to +buy one, and Father said, 'I will go for you,' and I was so astonished +and pleased I let him do it." + +"You did right, but you know it is just like a man's purchase. I can see +your father walk up to a clerk and say, 'I want a bertha, so many +inches, good and pretty as you have'--no mention of its price." + +"It is very pretty." + +"Yes, and no doubt it cost ten times as much as a girl's bertha should +cost--but it was a good spending, and I dare say he had a lighter heart +as well as a lighter purse after it." + +"I know I was charmed by his goodness, and I told him so in half a dozen +ways, and, Aunt, at last--I kissed him. Yes, I really did. And Father +looked at me with tears in his eyes, and at that moment I could have +done anything he asked me to do." + +"I'll warrant you. Your father ought then to have----" + +"Please, Aunt, do not say the words on your lips. Nothing in life could +separate me from Richard, and you know it." + +"Well, well. Go and show yourself to your father, and be in a hurry. I +hear a carriage at the door. Will you have a cup of tea before you go?" + +"Aileen brought me one here. I want no more." + +They went to the door together, and as the vehicle drove away a youth +stepped through the fog, whistling merrily, + + "There's a good time coming, boys, + Wait a little longer." + +He made Mrs. Caird think of Donald, and she blessed him as he passed. +"I am not superstitious," she whispered, "not at all, but when a good +word comes to me I am going to take it and be glad of its message." "A +good time coming"--to these words singing in her heart she went into the +parlor and tinkled the little silver bell, which was answered by Kitty +bringing in the teapot under its satin cozy. A few minutes afterward the +Minister entered. The table had been set for him and Mrs. Caird by the +parlor hearth, and he took his chair silently. Then they were alone, +and, as he lifted his cup, he casually lifted his eyes and met the love +and sorrow in Mrs. Caird's eyes, and there was a moment's swift +understanding between them. Dr. Macrae stretched out his long, lean +hand, and she clasped it and said, "Cheer up, Ian; things are never as +bad as you think they are." + +He smiled faintly and asked, "Where is Marion going?" + +"I thought she told you." + +"She did. I had forgotten. To James Lockerby's, I think she said." + +"Yes, his daughter is engaged to David Grant. It is her betrothal +party." + +There was a moment's pause, then she continued: "I met Thomas Reid +to-day on Buchanan Street. He told me that the city intended nominating +him for Parliament." + +"Him!" + +"Yes. He said it was a great prospect, requiring extra diligence in +business and very punctual observance of church ordinances." + +"Had the city of Glasgow no better man to send to Parliament than Thomas +Reid--although Reid is a clever man--unquestionably so." + +"He has at least _survived_, and that is _the_ cleverness, according to +Darwin. He sent Marion a message, but I have not given it to her." + +"What had he to say to Marion?" + +"He asked me to remind her of the opportunities she had thrown away. He +said if he was sent to Parliament he should take all his family to +London for the season, and that then Marion might have stepped into a +circle above her own--the very best society, of course, being open to a +woman with a father in Parliament." + +"What answer did you make, Jessy?" + +"My words were ready. I was intensely angry at his inclusion of Marion +in 'his family,' and still more angry at his appropriation of the title +of 'father' in any shape to my niece, and I answered haughtily: 'Sir, on +her twenty-first birthday Miss Macrae will become the wife of Lord +Richard Cramer. He was in Her Majesty's Household before his father's +death, and on his return from India will probably resume his duties at +St. James's Palace. That will give Miss Macrae entrance into the royal +circle. There is no higher one.'" + +"You said well, Jessy. And I am glad you were able to give the cocksure +insolence of the purse-proud creature such a perfect rebuff. Did he say +anything further?" + +"For a moment he was astonished and mortified, but he quickly rallied, +and said, with a queer little laugh, 'That is a great exaltation for the +young lady. Just keep her head level by reminding her that there's many +a slip between the cup and the lip.' Then I said, 'Good morning, sir.'" + +After a few moments' silence Mrs. Caird continued in a tentative manner, +as if reminding herself of the circumstance, "There was a long letter +from Donald this morning." + +A sudden interest came into Dr. Macrae's face, though his listless voice +did not show it; however, Mrs. Caird was watching his face, not his +voice, and she was not astonished when he asked: + +"Where is he? Has he reached America?" + +"Oh, no! He is in London at present. He escorted Lady Cramer from Paris +to London two days ago." + +"Lady Cramer?" + +"She requested him to do so." + +"What was Donald doing in Paris?" + +"When he first left Glasgow he went to Paris to see his friend, Matthew +Ballantyne. Matthew had gone to Rome, and he followed him there, and he +has been studying with Matthew's Roman master until Christmas drew near. +Then he resolved to spend his Christmas in England and leave for New +York at the beginning and not at the end of the year. In Paris he met +Lady Cramer in the foyer of the Grand Opera House, and she induced him +to stay with her, and to finally convey her to the Cramer House in +London. It looks like kindness in Lady Cramer, but Donald is an +extraordinarily handsome man, and women like her want such in their +train." + +"Like her! What do you mean, Jessy?" + +"Oh, gay, flirting women, who count men's broken hearts and hopes very +ornamental to themselves. As like as not she will be making eyes at +Donald. I wish he was out of her seductions and safe on the Atlantic." + +"If my advice had been taken, he would now be safe in the hallowed halls +of St. Andrews. How can he afford such carryings on? They cost money." + +"Donald will never want money while I live; forbye, the violin in his +hand is a sure fortune." + +"Was it not Izaak Walton who said that God had given to some men +intelligence and to others the art of playing on the fiddle?" + +"Let me tell you, Ian, a man could not play the fiddle without +intelligence. My goodness! he requires brains to his fingers' ends to +play as Donald plays. But Izaak Walton is right in one thing--Donald's +gift is the gift of God, and every gift of God is good if used for +innocent purpose. For myself, I am real glad that Donald's gift was +music. There will be music in heaven, but there is no mention of +preaching there; no matter how many play and sing in a household, if +they do it well, there are never too many; but one preacher is enough in +any family." + +"Do not be angry, Jessy. It was but a passing remark--blame Izaak Walton +for it--if it was he." + +"I have no doubt it was he. The remark is just what you would expect +from a man who could spend day after day and year after year putting +hooks through the throats of fishes only weighing a pound or two. I +think he would need few brains for that vocation. The silly body with +his fishing rod! I wonder at sensible people quoting anything he says." + +Dr. Macrae laughed a little, silent laugh which did not brighten his sad +face, and then asked, "What time will Marion be home?" + +"After midnight; you would do right if you went for her." + +"Then I will go. You need have no fear, Jessy. I will be at Lockerby's +before midnight." + +"Marion will be pleased, and the Lockerbys will take it as a great +honor. Speak kindly to the young people; you will make them your friends +forever." + +"Jessy, something has come between me and my people, something that +dashes and interferes. It has grown up lately." + +"It is yourself, Ian. You are different. Your countenance used to be +steadfast and hopeful, your voice strong and sincere, your simple +presence encouraging. Your face is now troubled, your voice indifferent, +your presence has lost much of that sympathy which binds one heart to +another." + +"My congregation, Jessy, is too material to be moved by anything but +spoken words or positive actions." + +"Unconsciously your face--so dark and pathetic--moves them. The immortal +Dweller, in molding its home, uses only the material you give it. So the +sense of desolation, which has been stirred in you by the writings of +Darwin, Schopenhauer, Comte and others, is visible on your countenance; +and your people look on you and catch your spirit, even as we look over +an infected country and catch its malaria." + +Dr. Macrae shook his head in desponding denial, and Mrs. Caird +continued: "What has Kant's 'Thing in Itself,' or Hegel's 'Absolute,' or +Pascal's 'Abysom,' or Renan's 'Scepticism,' or Spencer's 'Agnosticism' +given you? O Ian, what are they but words empty of help or meaning to +souls who have lost their faith in God. Listen to this," she cried, as, +moving swiftly to a small hanging bookcase, she took from it a slim +volume, "a man like yourself, Ian, fighting his doubts and fears and sad +forecastings, wrote them;" and her eager face and intense sympathy made +him bend his head in acquiescence. They were standing together in the +center of the parlor floor, and Dr. Macrae was anxious to be alone and +consider the news he had just received about Lady Cramer and his son, +but he found something promising in his sister-in-law's words, and he +stood expectantly watching her strong, sweet face as she spoke, or God +in her spoke, these lines: + + "Away, haunt thou not me, + Thou vain Philosophy. + Little hast thou bestead, + Save to perplex the head, + And leave the Spirit dead. + Unto thy broken cisterns wherefore go? + While from the secret treasure depths below, + Wisdom and Peace and Power + Are welling forth incessantly. + Why labor at the dull mechanic oar + When the fresh breeze is blowing, + And the strong current flowing, + Right onward to the Eternal Shore?" + +"Whosoever wrote those lines, Jessy, had lain with me in the dungeons of +Doubting Castle." + +"Arthur Hugh Clough, an English clergyman, wrote them. His feet +well-nigh slipped, but he constantly struggled to hold fast the skirts +of Faith, and bid himself remember that in the Christ creed + + "The souls of near two thousand years + Have laid up here their toils and fears; + And all the earnings of their pain. + Ah, yet consider it again!" + +"Let me have the book, Jessy," and he stood a few minutes looking at it. +What Mrs. Caird was saying he heard not, his eyes had fallen upon a few +lines describing the Christ creed: + + "With its humiliations combining + Exaltations sublime, and yet diviner abasements, + Aspirations from something most shameful here upon earth, and + In our poor selves, to something most perfect above in the heavens." + +"I do not care for poetry, Jessy, but this book appears to reveal a +soul. I will take it to my room; it may have something to say to me." + +But Dr. Macrae did not read any book that night. To sit still with +closed eyes and consider what this sudden association of Lady Cramer and +his son might mean was the most urgent of his desires. Until near +midnight he thought over the circumstance in every possible way, coming +finally to the conclusion that Lady Cramer's attentions to Donald were +a most delicate revelation of her love for himself; and this conviction +brought instantly an acute longing for her presence. He felt that he +must reach London as soon as it was possible. For some weeks he had +anticipated this visit and made the necessary preparations for it. The +finest clothing was ready to put into his valise, and there was little +to do except to secure a minister to supply his pulpit for one Sabbath. +This was easily accomplished, and on a fine, bright Monday morning he +took a very early train southward. + +"I am sure," said Marion, "Father has taken this journey purposely to +see Donald again. It is so good of him, and I do hope Donald will treat +him properly." + +"Nonsense!" answered Mrs. Caird. "Your father has gone to London to see +Lady Cramer." + +"Aunt, he told me he hoped Donald would be in London; he said he wished +to see him." + +"Then why did he not start for London at once?" + +"He thought Donald would be delayed and detained by Lady Cramer. I +thought so also. She liked to have young men waiting upon her. She +always found them plenty to do. Father wanted to see Donald again." + +"If your father wants anything, it is not his way to wait three or four +days for it." + +"Anyway, I do not believe my father and Lady Cramer are in love with +each other. It is not likely." + +"Do you think Richard and yourself have captured all the love in the +world? Your father is a very handsome man and Lady Cramer is a beautiful +woman. Why should they not be in love with each other?" + +"They are so old, Aunt." + +"Richard is not what I would call a young man. He will be thirty-five +years old." + +"Oh, no! He is thirty, and he has never been married. I am his first +love. He told me so, many times he told me so." + +"That is no wonder. All men say such things. Their words stand for just +what you take them at. When I was a girl we used to sing a duet in which +the soprano declared she had heard of a land where every man was true, +where the women issued all orders, and the men did as they were told to +do, and + + 'All was sweet serenity, + And life a long devotion.' + +Then the contralto expressed her longing for such a land, her +willingness to go to it at once, and asked, 'How am I to get there?' +Upon which a young man in the room appointed to give the information +sang out melodiously, + + 'Go _straight_ down the crooked lane, + And _all around_ the Square?" + +Then both laughed, and Marion said, "Well, Aunt, as no one could go +straight down a crooked lane, or all around a square, no one can find +that happy land of your girlhood. I will go and write to Richard now, +and tell him about the song, and about Father going to London." + +"And do not forget to name Donald's care of his stepmother from Paris to +London." + +"I will tell Richard that also. I had forgotten the circumstance." + +"Everyone forgets Donald." + +And Marion, tired of assuring her aunt that Donald was not forgotten, +answered carelessly, "Yes, they seem to do so. I wonder why?" + +"Because Donald is not requiring their thoughts. Donald can think for +himself; he knows what he wants, and he takes what he wants, and so he +is well served." She was leaving the room as she spoke, and she closed +the door emphatically enough to enforce her opinion. + +In the meantime Dr. Macrae was going southward. In spite of the +philosophies with which he had saturated himself, he had yet in his +nature primitive traits which ruled him--often foolish ones--but so +natural and spontaneous that they were actually dear to him. And among +these relics of ancient feeling was the pleasure of giving surprises. +All the way to London he was telling himself: "How happy Ada will be! +How surprised she will be to see me! I shall walk unexpectedly into her +parlor, and see the love and joy and astonishment light up her beautiful +face as I approach her! That moment will pay for all--for all!" + +He lived in the consideration of that moment all the way to the great +city; but it was dark when he arrived there, and he was tired and +hungry, and quite eager for whatever comfort the old Charing Cross +hostelry could give him. About eight o'clock, however, he was thoroughly +refreshed, and he called a cab and was driven to Lady Cramer's +residence. It was fairly well lighted, and he judged her, therefore, to +be at home. So he dismissed the cab and then walked slowly up and down +before the house for a few minutes. As he was thus steadying himself for +his eagerly desired happiness a carriage drove up to the house, and +immediately afterward Lady Cramer, attended by a tall, middle-aged +gentleman, entered it; and they were driven rapidly away. Dr. Macrae was +by no means a shy man, but love unnerves the bravest when its +environments are strange and uncertain; and he actually allowed Lady +Cramer and her companion to drive away without any effort to arrest +attention. In fact, he realized that he had stepped backward, and this +cowardice made him both angry and ashamed. + +"Why did I not cry halt! Why did I not call her? Why did I let that man +carry her off when I was not more than an arm's length from her?" And +the inner man answered, "You could have stepped to her side, laid your +hand upon her shoulder, and whispered, 'Ada!' in her ear. You had all +the moments necessary. You were too cowardly to take your opportunity." + +For nearly an hour he walked up and down before the house, letting the +poor ape, jealousy, mingle with all his nobler love thoughts; then he +noticed that the lights had been much lowered, and he rang the bell and +asked for Lady Cramer. + +"My Lady has gone to the play," was the answer. + +"At what hour will she return?" + +"It will be very late, sir. There is a supper and dance at Lady +Saville's after the play, sir." + +Then Dr. Macrae put a crown into the man's hand and asked to what +theater Lady Cramer had gone, and, having received this information, he +followed her there. + +"Her Majesty's Theatre." + +Was it conceivable that Dr. Ian Macrae had given such an order? A few +months previously he had said to a large congregation in relation to the +theater, "My feet have never crossed the unhallowed threshold." And he +had made this declaration with what he considered a justifiable +spiritual satisfaction. Would he now transgress a law of his whole life? +Alas! at this hour life meant Lady Adalaide Cramer and to follow her, +see her face, and consider her companion was an urgency he could not +control--had indeed no desire to control. + +He bought a ticket in the pit and looked around. Lady Cramer was not +present, but several boxes were empty, and in a few minutes he saw her +enter one of them. She was the center of a gay party and the most +beautiful woman in it. His ticket, bought at random, had placed him in +an excellent position for seeing the play he had come to see, and it was +hardly likely Lady Cramer would let her eyes fall on anyone beneath the +seats where the nobility sat. + +Dr. Macrae looked at the lady of his hopes first. She had improved +marvelously, she was radiantly beautiful and dressed in some magnificent +manner beyond his power to itemize; yet he felt with a thrill of +idolatrous passion the total effect of the combination. And he kept +telling himself: "She is mine! And I will not suffer any other man to +parade himself in her beauty! I will remain in London until we are +married." + +Then he looked at the man who was parading himself in her beauty, and +had a swift, sharp pang of jealousy. He was about fifty years of age, +one of those large, blond, well-groomed Englishmen who represent the +imperial race at its best. There were two other ladies, a young naval +officer and a well-known diplomat in the box, but Dr. Macrae took no +note of them, though it interested him to see how cleverly Lady Cramer +used them in order to exhibit the little airs and graces which +diversified her gay or sentimental coquetries. + +That Dr. Macrae should enter a theater was not the only wonder of that +night. The play happened to be "Julius Caesar," and he soon became +enthralled with the large splendor of its old Roman life. He neither +heard nor saw one thing that he could disapprove; and he said to +himself, almost angrily, that it was wrong to prevent the happiness +which hundreds of thousands might receive from such an entertainment if +a mistaken public opinion did not prevent it. And, though this decision +was only rendered mentally, he felt in its rendering all the ministerial +intolerance of one who is deciding _ex cathedra_ a point of great moral +importance. The end of the performance found him in the foyer, watching +for Lady Cramer's appearance. He had not long to wait. She came forward, +leaning on the arm of her escort, and looking, as Dr. Macrae thought, +divinely beautiful. He went straight to her. His step was rapid, his +manner erect, even haughty, and, touching her hand gently, he said, +with ill-concealed emotion: + +"Ada!" + +She started and answered, "Why, Doctor Macrae! Is it possible? In a +theater, too! Oh, it is incredible!" + +"I came to see you, not the play." + +"To-night I am going to a supper and dance at Lady Saville's. Come to +breakfast with me--nine o'clock. See, we are delaying people behind +us--excuse me----" And as she went hurriedly forward she called back +with a smile, "Breakfast--nine o'clock." + +He was so summarily dismissed that he could not answer; then the waiting +crowd made him feel their impatience, and with a sense of humiliation he +went rapidly into the gloomy street. What had happened to him? All his +spirit, all his pride and enthusiasm had vanished. Ada also had +vanished, the play was over, and he had been told to wait until morning. + +He passed the night in a fever of passionate contradictions. He blamed +Ada in words which he had never used in all his life before, he praised +her in words equally extravagant and unusual, and he had pangs of such +cruel suffering, and thrills of such exquisite love and longing, as made +him understand that it is through the mind, and not the body, that the +greatest misery and the most enthralling happiness are experienced. + +But, joyful or sorrowful, he never thought of prayer. If he had, there +was his visit to the theater to be explained, and at the bottom of his +soul's crucible there was yet a residuum of doubt on that score. +Besides, the theater was only a detail; the real trouble was the woman. + +About four o'clock he fell into a sleep so deep that it was far below +the tide of dreams, and when he awakened he had barely time to prepare +himself for his early visit. However, the rest had refreshed him, and +when he left his hotel for Lady Cramer's residence there was not in all +London a man of greater physical beauty or more aristocratic bearing. He +was aware of this fact, and he smiled faintly as he looked in the +mirror, and thought a little contemptuously of any rival he might have. + +Like a true lover, he outran the clock, and reached his tryst some +minutes before the appointed hour. He found Lady Cramer waiting for him. +With beaming face and extended hands she came to meet him, and he forgot +in a moment every word of reproof he had prepared for her. A delicate +breakfast was laid on a table drawn to the hearth of her private parlor, +and when she took her place, and made him draw his chair close to her +own, the cup of his happiness was brimmed. Never before had she seemed +so beautiful and so desirable. Her hair was loosely dressed, and the +open sleeves of her violet silk gown showed the perfection of her hands +and arms without rings or ornaments of any kind but the threadlike band +of gold on her marriage finger. That ring he meant to remove and replace +with one bearing his own and Ada's initials, and, at any rate, it was +but an empty symbol, a dead pledge. + +He did not waste these happy hours in explanations, but spent every +moment in wooing her with all the fervor and passion of his manhood, and +in winning again those tender marks of her favor which had really made +her fly from his influence before. He entreated her to marry him at +once--to-morrow--to-day--and he declared he would not leave London +unless she went with him. + +At this point she made a firm stand. "Marriage is an impossibility just +yet," she answered; and, when pressed for any reason making it so, +replied, "I must see how the affair between Richard and Marion ends +before I entangle myself;" and, while she was making this excuse, there +was the sound of a man's deep, authoritative voice in the hall, and the +next moment he entered the room, full of his own eager pleasure, or at +least feigning to be so. He pretended not to see Dr. Macrae, but cried +out hurriedly: + +"Ada! Ada! The horses are at the door. It is such a lovely morning. Come +for a gallop. Quick, my dear!" + +"Duke, you do not see my friend. Let me introduce you to Dr. Ian Macrae, +the most eminent of our Scotch ministers." + +"Glad to meet you, Doctor. Glad to see Ada--Lady Cramer--has such a wise +friend. Kindly advise her, sir, to take her morning gallop--her +physician considers it imperative. I have left all my affairs to take +care of her, and I hope you will advise her to obey orders. Run away and +put on your habit, Ada. The animals are restive and Simpson is holding +both." + +Ada looked at Ian and smiled, and what could Ian do? He was not a good +rider. He had never escorted a lady on horseback in a public park; he +knew nothing of the rites and regulations of that duty. It was better to +give place than to render himself ridiculous. So he bowed gravely, and, +turning to Ada, said: + +"I advise you to take your morning ride, Lady Cramer. I can see you +afterward." + +"Come in to dinner, then, Doctor, and let us have our talk out about my +stepson." + +"It will not be convenient," and with these words he retired. + +"A remarkably handsome, aristocratic man," said the Duke. "Make some +haste, Ada, or we may miss the sunshine." + +And as Lady Cramer ascended to her dressing-room she sighed sorrowfully, +"I have missed it." + +During this scene the Minister had preserved a noble and rather +indifferent manner, and he left the room while she was hesitating about +her ride. But oh, what a storm of slighted and disappointed love raged +within him! Through the busy streets, forlorn and utterly miserable, he +wandered slowly, careless of the crowd and the cold, and only thinking +of the pitiless strait he had been compelled to face. He knew no one in +London but Lady Cramer, and he felt as deserted and abandoned as a +wandering bird cast out of a nest. + +There is no waste land of the heart so dreary as that left by love which +has deserted us. This is the vacant place we water with the bitterest +tears, and, even in the cold, crowded London streets, his melancholy +eyes and miserable face attracted attention. Men who had trod the same +sorrowful road knew instinctively that some troubler of the other sex +had been the maker of it. + +He went back to his hotel and wondered what he should do with himself. +He had intended to spend the hours not spent with Lady Cramer in the +British Museum. He could not now do so. He preferred to sit still in his +room and try to discover the truth concerning the position in which he +so unexpectedly found himself. He had firmly believed in the love of +Lady Cramer, he had regarded her only one hour previously as his own, +and talked with her of their marriage. And she had apparently been as +happy as himself in that prospect. + +Yet the mere advent of Rotherham had changed her attitude, and he had +felt at once that his presence was an inconvenience. More than this, in +some way too subtle to analyze he had been intensely mortified by her +changed manner, and by her reference to Richard and Marion, as if their +love affair accounted for his presence in her household--the more so as +they had not spoken of the young people at all that morning. He did not +feel that it was at all necessary to invent an excuse for asking him to +dine with her. + +So it was in an intense sense of mortification that his wounded feelings +expressed themselves, and it was an entirely new experience to him. +Throughout all the years of his manhood he had been praised and honored, +served with the greatest consideration, and almost implicitly obeyed. He +had never been in any society he considered more noble or more +distinguished than his own. Yet undoubtedly Lady Cramer had been ashamed +of his presence. He recalled the expressions on her face, the tones of +real or pretended boredom in her voice, all the pretty coquetries of her +eyes and hands, and all her graceful efforts to bewitch the Duke, and +with a scornful laugh muttered, "She thought I did not understand her +double game. She thought me a fool, and made a plaything of my love." +And then he uttered some words which a minister should not use, and +which a woman does not care to write. + +Now, mortified feeling becomes hatred in passionate natures, and +ridicule or scorn in cold natures. It tended to hatred with Ian. He had +been so long accustomed to adulation and reverence that he could not +endure the memory of the covert slights he had felt compelled to ignore. +And it was not long ere he became furious at himself for not boldly +taking his position as Lady Cramer's future husband. He told himself +that, even if there had been a scene there and then, a man would have +been present, and to him he could have made explanations, but now what +could he do but suffer? + +For hours he tormented and humiliated himself with the certainty that +Lady Cramer was ashamed of condescending to his love, and that she had +represented their acquaintance as arising from a necessary interference +between her stepson and the minister's daughter. He knew exactly how she +would represent the subject; he could tell almost the words she would +use, and this mean, underhanded denial of himself hurt every nerve of +his consciousness like a physical wound. Indeed, the suffering was +greater, for a man may forgive a thrust from a sword, but a slap in the +face! No! And Lady Cramer's treatment of her betrothed lover had been a +decided slap in the face. He told himself passionately that he would +never forgive it. + +With this mortifying experience he sat until daylight waned, then he +went to the office and asked if there were any letters for him. There +was one from Marion, which he laid aside; there was none from Lady +Cramer. Then his aching disappointment revealed to him that, in spite of +his anger, he had been expecting a propitiating note, and perhaps a +renewal of her invitation to dinner. For in this early stage of his +wrath all his despairing thoughts were peopled with the phantoms of his +love and his desires. + +But there was no letter, and when he had dined alone he had arrived at +that point of impatience which can no longer be satisfied with hoping or +believing--he insisted on seeing. So he went to Lady Cramer's house and +found it in semidarkness; consequently she was out. The obliging porter +informed him, in return for a crown piece, that his lady had gone to the +theater with the Duke of Rotherham, and Ian quickly followed her there. +The play was in progress, but the man who had seated him previously came +smilingly to take his ticket. + +"Never mind the location," said Ian; "put me where I can see Lady Cramer +and not be seen." + +"A box on a higher tier would be the best." + +"Then take me there." + +"It will be five shillings more." + +"Here is a sovereign. Give me a good location and keep the change." + +He got all he desired, and for two hours fed the fire in his heart +through the sad, tearless avenues of his eyes. Only the Duke was with +her. He was in full dress, with all his ribboned orders on his breast; +she was robed in pale amber satin and glittering with diamonds. The +house was very full, the entertainment mirth-provoking, and there was a +great deal of sweet, sensuous music. He did not hear anything either +sung or spoken, for all his life was in his eyes, and what they saw +burned the word _unattainable_ on all his hopes. He left the theater +before the performance was finished; he did not wish to meet his false +mistress until he was quite sure of his decision. When he thought he was +so he lifted his valise and packed it. He had resolved to see her once +more and then return to Glasgow. His manner was then haughty and quiet, +and his face looked as if carven out of steel, so cold and clear-cut +were its features, so hard and implacable the resolve written on them. + +In the morning he went to Lady Cramer's house, and was readily admitted. +She was rather glad of his visit, for she by no means realized her +offense nor her lover's indignation at it. Indeed, when he entered the +parlor she rose with a little cry of pleasure, and, with both hands +extended, hurried to meet him. + +"O Ian! Ian! How glad I am to see you!" she cried. "I have just written +to you--why did you not come again yesterday?" + +He had advanced to about the middle of the room, and he stood there, +stern and inflexible, until she was near to him. Then he raised his +hands, palms outward, and said: "Stand where you are, Ada. I do not wish +you to touch me. You are the most false of all women. I have come to +give you back your worthless promise. I do not value it any longer." + +"Ian! Ian! What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I know you are going to marry that old Duke--going to sell +yourself once more." + +"Oh, indeed," she answered, "if my marriage is a sale, I prefer to be +sold for a dukedom than a Free Kirk pulpit. And, if you have come here +to be insolent, understand that I do not care for anything you say." + +"Care a little for my farewell. I will never trouble you again. I give +you back your promise." + +"Thank you! If you had been brave enough to insist on my keeping it, I +might have done so. You are a very indifferent lover. Twice over Duke +Rotherham drove you away, just because he was a duke." + +"You are mistaken. I set you free because you are utterly deceitful. I +hate deceit. I love you no longer." + +"You are deceiving yourself. You can never cease to love me." + +"I love you not. I have ceased already." + +"Indeed, sir, in the matter of love you leave off loving when you can, +not when you wish." + +"A burnt-out fire cannot be rekindled; you are dead to me." + +"I shall live in your memory." + +"I have buried you below memory, and, for the graves of the heart, there +is no resurrection." + +"Do not quarrel with me, Ian. I did love you! I did intend to marry +you!" + +"You are a beautiful woman, but you are only a face without a heart. It +would have been a good thing for you to have become my wife. I should +have taught you how to love." + +With a little mocking laugh she answered: "It might have been a good +thing to be your wife, but oh, what happiness it is not to be your wife! +You have much learning, sir, but you do not know the way to a woman's +heart." Then she slipped from her finger the ring he had given her and +let it fall to her feet. + +"I take back my promise, Ian. Take back your ring. Farewell!" and, with +head proudly lifted, she passed him. At the door she turned, and he was +just lifting the ring. "Ah!" she cried, "the diamonds are pure enough +for you to touch, I see," and with a contemptuous laugh she closed the +door behind her. + +Her eyes were tearless, and there was a dubious smile around her mouth, +but her heart grew so still she thought something must have died there. +"Farewell, Ian!" she whispered, as she sank wearily on her bed. +"Farewell! You wanted too much. You made the great blunder of +confounding love-making with love. You took every trifle too seriously. +I thought I loved you, but what is love? I might have married you, if I +had not wanted to be a duchess. You might have spoiled that dream, and I +am glad you are gone. _Hi! Ho!_ I think I have managed very well." + +Really it was her gift of blindness to anyone's pleasure but her own +that at this time had kept her ignorant of danger until she had drifted +past it. If Ian had been more persistent, the end of the affair would +have been very different. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +WHEN WILL THE NIGHT BE PAST? + + "Alas! God Christ--along the weary lands, + What lone invisible Calvaries are set, + What drooping brows with dews of anguish wet, + What faint outspreading of unwilling hands, + Bound to a viewless cross with viewless bands. + While at the darkest hour what ghosts are met + Of ancient pain and bitter fond regret, + Till the new-risen spirit understands." + + +Doctor Macrae left London immediately after this interview, but he did +not at once return to Glasgow. He spent two days at Oxford and nearly a +week in the manufacturing towns of Yorkshire, the rest of his leisure in +the historic city of Newcastle. He was interested in what he saw, but +not comforted by it. For he was well aware that all his hopes had been +stripped to the nakedness of a dream. The week days trailed on the +ground and the Sabbaths made no effort to rise to the height of their +birth. For the spiritual center of his being had never yet been in touch +with the spiritual center in the universe, and all philosophies and all +creeds must come back to this sympathetic understanding between the +Comforter and the Comforted, or they come to nothing. + +Many years ago he had analyzed prayer by his creed, and felt that it had +nothing to do with troubles so personal and selfish as his love or his +hatred. For some wise purpose this discipline of wasted love had been +given him, and his duty was to bear his loss as manfully as he could. +There had once been a time when he would even have rejoiced to give up +any personal happiness if he thought that by doing so he was learning a +God-sent lesson. He could not do that now. He had been too long looking +_into_ the Deity instead of looking _up_ to Him. He had compelled +himself to question and to qualify until he knew not how to believe nor +yet what to believe. Poor soul! He thought prayer could be reasoned +about! Prayer, which is an unrevealed transaction, beyond the region of +the stars! + +At length, the time of his absence from duty being completed, he took a +train for Glasgow, arriving there early in the evening. It was raining +hard, it was dark, and the points of gas light only rendered the +darkness visible. The streets were crowded with men and women in +dripping coats, jostling each other with dripping umbrellas as they +hurried home after their day's work. + +In the quiet space of Bath Street the driver of his cab dropped his whip +and stopped in order to regain it; and in those moments Dr. Macrae +noticed a wretched looking man trying to get a few pennies by singing +"The Land of Our Birth." His voice was full of pain and tears, and +Macrae called him and put a shilling in his hand. The beggar's look of +amazement and gratitude was wonderful. He raised the coin as he took it, +and cried out, "_O God!_" and the look and the words fell on Macrae's +heart like a soft shower on a parched land. They called up one of those +tender smiles quite possible, and even natural, to his face, though far +too seldom seen there. In the light of this smile he reached his home, +and the next moment the door opened and Marion and Mrs. Caird stood +waiting with outstretched hands to greet him. + +He fell readily into their happy mood, and sat down between them to the +excellent tea waiting for him. And the blessing of the shilling was on +him, and he talked cheerfully of all that he had seen, but added as he +took his large easy-chair on the hearthrug, + + "East or West, Home is Best." + +Alas! this blessed mood did not last. In a few days he was again +brooding in a hell of his own making. He could not rest his heart on any +affection. Lady Cramer had deceived him, Donald had deserted him, Marion +was restlessly waiting for her lover's return. Then she also would go. +And Jessy Caird's heart was with Donald. He thought of these things +until he felt himself to be a very lonely, desolate man; for the heart +is like a vine, it withers and dies if it has nothing to embrace. + +In a deep and overwhelming sense he knew that to obey or to disobey duty +was to say "yes" or "no" to God, but what was his duty? He told himself +that if he could only see the way of duty clear he would take it, +however unpleasant or difficult it might be. Yes, he was sure of that. +But what was his duty? He tried to find out by every logical method +known to him, and every method pointed out some flaw in every other +method. + +One morning, at the end of January, Dr. Macrae received a batch of +London newspapers. They were brought to the breakfast table, and he +looked at their number and wondered. He did not seem to understand what +they portended, but Mrs. Caird did. Some womanly instinct told her what +information they brought, and when Macrae did not come to the dinner +table she said softly to Marion, "Lady Cramer is married. I wonder how +he will bear it." + +In the middle of the afternoon she took some coffee into the Minister's +study, and at his request sat down beside him. "Stay an hour with me, +Jessy," he said. "I am in trouble." + +"I know, Ian." + +"She is married." + +Jessy nodded slightly, and said: "I know. My dear Ian, you were but a +little child in the hands of Adalaide Cramer. Very likely she thought +she loved you." + +"I think she did love me." + +"Whom has she married?" + +"The Duke of Rotherham." + +"She had a great temptation, but no doubt she suffered in giving you up, +even for a dukedom." + +"She ought to suffer. I wish her to suffer." + +"Then you no longer love her?" + +"Loving is now out of the question, but I had, I thought, a great love +for her." + +"Had!" + +"Yes. I loved Ada until she contemplated making me a partner with her in +the sin of deceiving the man who was then--almost--her husband. After +that I had no hesitation in resigning her. I would not remain in +London--she was very lovable--I might--I think not--but I might----" + +"You acted as an honorable man must have done. Danger is an unknown +quantity until you meet it face to face, and in this danger you were +like a swimmer that only tips the tangles and does not know the depth of +the water below them. I am glad you had the courage to leave her. Let +her be dismissed even from your thoughts." + +"How should I dare to think of her after those London papers? The +Decalogue and Christ's words concerning its seventh law still stand with +me as a finality. I no longer love her. I am not even angry with her. +She was just the reef on which my life went down. An hour ago I buried +her." + +"Your life has not gone down. It ought to be more rich and buoyant for +this very experience. It will be." + +"Perhaps. Yet all life's pleasant things have suffered the same change +that Autumn works on the flowery braes of Spring, and I feel, + + 'My days are as the grass, + Swiftly my seasons pass, + And like the flower of the field I fade.'" + +Jessy waited a moment or two, and then replied, "I think, Ian, you might +be just and honorable to the poet. Why do you cut the verse in two? I +will give you the other three lines, as you seem to have forgotten them: + + 'O Soul, dost thou not see + The Wise have likened thee + To the most living creature that is made?'" + +"Living creature?" + +"Yes, in the Spring does the grass tarry for any man's help? It comes up +without tool, or seed, or labor. In the garden, the field, the +roadside, it comes, fresh and strong and heavenly green. Its withered +blades have a new life. Likewise certain portions of our lives change or +pass away, but something better for our coming years is given us." + +"My dear Jessy, how good are your words. Is there any poetry you do not +know?" + +"Men and women who have souls meet each other in good poetry. I have met +many a sweet soul there." + +"I must tell you, Jessy, that it is not the _Duchess of Rotherham_ but +the Church of the Disciples that is now troubling me. I dread every +Sabbath Day before me. I feel as if I could not--could not preach." + +"Do you think a woman's 'no' should change your life and your life's +work?" + +"It might do so." + +"It cannot. If there is no place open to a man but a pulpit, it is clear +God means him to preach--whether he wants to or not. I think little of +the men who are feared for the day they never saw. Bode good and you +will get good. That's a fact, Ian. + +"Jessy, I seem to have lost everything in one bad year--my love, my +children, my work, my friends. All are changed or gone. I feel poor. +Once I was rich, and knew it not." + +"You are not poor, Ian. The poor are those who have never lost anything. +You are not doing badly even now, and you are learning on very easy +terms the grand habit of doing without." + +"I am very miserable, Jessy, I know that." + +"You are deserving misery badly, or you would hardly punish yourself. +God is giving you blessings on every hand, and you do not even thank Him +for them." + +"Jessy Caird!" + +"I'm right, quite right. He took the great temptation of a heartless +beautiful woman out of your way. You could have thrown love and honor +and your very soul on that water, and got nothing back--through all the +years of your life--but sorrow and shame. Well, well, it is little +gratitude we give either God or angel for the _escapes_ they help us to +make. How often have we been in the net of some adverse circumstances, +and suddenly and quietly the net is broken and we escape. Then we are as +likely to grumble as to rejoice." + +"If it wasn't for the preaching----" + +"Ay, it is always 'something' if it is not 'somebody' that is to blame. +Not ourselves, of course! What do you think of making the best of what +you have, Ian? There was a wonderful letter from Donald yesterday. Ask +Marion about it." + +"I will take a walk as far as the cathedral. There is a painted window +in the crypt that is always delightful to me." + +"A painted window?" + +"Yes--representing Christ as a youth reading the Book of the Law." + +"You are a queer man, Ian Macrae. Your ideal of Christ has a papistical +leaning." + +"Nothing of the kind, Jessy. Nothing!" + +"The Roman idea is to represent the Redeemer of the World just a baby in +the Virgin's arms, or he is the victim on the Cross, or the dead God +being prepared for burial. How many paintings do you know representing +Christ as the Lord of Life and Death--the co-equal of the God +Everlasting? Indeed, if you do happen to find a painting of Christ as a +man among men, he is sure to be the least handsome and godlike of all +those surrounding him. And you can find comfort in the figure of a boy +reading the Book of the Law!" + +"Do you know the window?" + +"I do. The last time I saw it, Donald was with me. He liked it well. +There was a long letter from Donald yesterday." + +"I will now dress and take a walk." + +"It is raining hard." + +"Then I will only go as far as Blackie's, and look over his new books. +That is always interesting." + +"Don't go out, Ian. Sit with Marion. She has a letter she wants to read +to you." + +"Jessy, I am seeking the Truth. The search impels me--I cannot rest--I +can do nothing else but seek it--not for my life!" + +"Do you expect to find it in Blackie's bookshop?" + +"I know not where to find it." + +"It is lying there--at your right hand." + +He glanced down at his right hand, and saw the familiar old Bible of his +college days. The place-keeping ribbon was lying outside its pages, and +he lifted the Book and replaced the ribbon; then, with a feeling of +sorrowful tenderness, laid it, on a shelf of his bookcase. "My father +put it in my hands the morning I went first to St. Andrews," he said +softly, and then turned to Jessy, but she had left the room. + +With a strange smile of satisfaction he touched the inner breast pocket +of his long black vest, for in that pocket there lay a letter from +Donald which was all his own. It had come to him by the same mail which +brought Marion's, but some curious Scotch twist in his nature prompted +him to conceal the fact. The root of this secrecy was undoubtedly +selfishness. He did not want anyone else to see, or touch, or handle +it--it was all his own, as long as it lay unspoken of in his breast +wallet. There were things in it he could not bear to discuss--things +that appeared to actually deny all the results he had declared would be +the natural and certain consequences of Donald's disobedience and +irreligious tendencies. + +So he kept the letter in his breast and said nothing about it, and he +went to Blackie's bookshop and brought home in his hand a volume by +Mills with which he passed the long evening. Now and then he vouchsafed +a few remarks on passing events, but upon the whole he had reason to +congratulate himself upon his reticence and its success. + +Nevertheless, it had been less successful than he imagined, for, after +he had retired with Mr. Mills to the solitude of his study, Marion said, +with a sigh, "He never named Donald, Aunt;" and Mrs. Caird answered +sharply, "I am thinking, Marion, he knows all about Donald. He has had a +letter his own self. The man is far too curious to have kept whist if he +had not known what we were meaning by Donald's good fortune. No doubt +Donald wrote to him. I would hardly believe your father if he said +different." + +After this event the gloomy winter of snow and rain and thick fog +settled over the busy city, and people with firm-set lips and gloomy +faces went doggedly about their business and tried not to mind the +weather. But Dr. Macrae was acutely sensible to atmospheric conditions, +and the nearly constant gloom and drizzle was but the outward sign of +his mental and spiritual darkness and doubt. Day followed day in a +monotonous despairing search for what he could not find, and life lost +all its savor and searching all its hope and zest. + +Finally his health began to suffer. He found out what it meant to be +nervous and inadequate for duty. He became unreasonable or dourly +despondent, and every change was marked by moods and tempers that +affected the whole household. For the mind has malignant contagious +diseases, as well as the body, and the black silent sulk or the fretful +complaining in the study passed readily into every room of the gloomy +household. + +There are doubts that traverse the soul like a flash of lightning, +burning their way through it; there are others that come slowly, +insinuating themselves through a few careless words that somebody said +because they had a clever ring. Doubt came to Ian like a mailed warrior, +and met him, as _Apollyon_ met _Christian_, with defiant words and +straddling all over the way. What if there was no God? he asked +boldly--if blind forces, beyond his comprehension, controlled the world? +If life was only a semblance and mankind dreamers in it? What if the +heavens were empty? If there was no one to answer prayer? If Christ had +never risen? If the Word of God was _not_ the Word of God? + +Such questions are only of casual importance to the material man, but to +Ian they were the breath of his nostrils. He lived only to solve them, +and to pluck the Very Truth from the assertions and contradictions in +which it lay buried. By night and by day he was in the thick of this +storm, and was often so weary that he fell into long sleepy stupors. For +great griefs and anxieties have these respites from suffering, and it +was likely this very lethargy which overtook the Disciples in the +sorrowful Garden of Olives. And this spiritual warfare was not a thing +to be decided in a few days, or even weeks. Slowly, as the weary months +went on, it disintegrated the Higher Life, leaving the man acutely +intellectual, but without spiritual hope or comfort. It was mainly by +Mrs. Caird's pleadings and reasonings that he had even been kept at his +post in the Church of the Disciples. + +"What do you expect to gain by leaving your work, Ian?" she asked. "If +God should send a word to comfort you, it would doubtless come as it +came to the good men and prophets of old--when they were on the +threshing-floor, or among the flocks, or about their daily duties. You +can at least do as Dr. Scott does--keep faithfully your obligation to +the Presbytery, and, as a matter of professional honesty, preach good +Calvinistic sermons to those who desire them. It might be that while you +were helping and encouraging others the Divine Whisper would reach your +heart. At any rate, it is more likely to come to you in the stress and +duty of life than when you are thinking yourself into a stupor in that +haunted study of yours." + +"Haunted!" + +"Yes, Ian, haunted by doubts that gather strength by habit--and by +fears, that, like the needle, verge to the pole till they tremble and +tremble into certainty." + +And, though Ian had declared that he never could or would preach as a +mere professional duty, he found himself obliged to do so. It was +necessary to have a reason for his sermons, for without a reason he +could neither write nor preach them; and he found in the faithful +fulfillment of his ministerial vows the only substitute for that fervent +zeal which had once touched his lips as with a live coal from the altar. + +Indeed, many of the oldest sitters in the Church of the Disciples said +that he had never before preached such powerful and unanswerable +Calvinistic sermons--sermons that "crumpled up sinners spiritually" +until the business obligations of Monday morning restored their +elasticity. And though Mrs. Caird knew well that the passion and fiery +denunciation of these sermons came out of the misery and the +ill-conditioned temperament of the preacher, she approved his +eloquence. With a sort of satisfaction she said to herself, "If these +people like the God John Calvin made, I am glad that Ian shows Him to +them--'predestinating from all eternity, one part of mankind to +everlasting happiness and another to endless misery, and led to make +this distinction by no other motive than his own good pleasure and free +will.'" + +To Ian she said, "Your people can make no mistake about the kind of God +they have to meet, and I am glad that lately you have been bringing your +sermons to the counter and the hearthstone. You began your sermon +to-day, as I think Christ must often have done, '_What man among you_.' +Men like to be appealed to, even if they have to admit they are wrong." + +"I thought I might be too severe--when I consider it was a sinner +correcting sin. But, Jessy, it is such blind, weary work, preaching what +I do not believe." + +"You do believe it. You know well it is the only Scripture for the dour, +proud, self-reliant souls who have accepted it. I wonder, indeed, if +they would respect a God who forgave his enemies, and who thought rich +men would hardly win their way into the kingdom of heaven. As for hell, +it is the necessary place for all who do not think as they do, or who in +any other way offend them." + +"_Oh, that I knew where to find him!_" cried Ian, and the passionate +sorrow and entreaty in the lifted eyes and hands filled Mrs. Caird with +a great pity, and she answered softly: + +"When you seek for God with all your heart and with all your soul, Ian, +you will find him." + +"Do I not seek for Him with all my heart? I do! I do!" + +Thus, in constantly soothing and strengthening the unhappy man, the +weary months passed slowly away. And during them Ian was deteriorating +both spiritually and physically, so much so that Mrs. Caird began to +wonder if he ought not to be relieved from the strain of living so +difficult a double life. Was there any necessity which would justify it? + +"And he ought to be so happy," she said one day to herself, with a sob +of something between anger and pity, "he ought to be constantly thanking +God about his children, and he can think of nothing but what he himself +wants, and that want a spiritual gift that few obtain. If he cannot +believe Christ and the multitudes who have done so and found it +sufficient, in whom, then, can he believe? There will be no special +dispensation for Ian Macrae, and he need not be looking for it." + +This fretful soliloquy took place nearly two years after the coming of +those miserable books of Lord Cramer's into Dr. Macrae's life. He read +others constantly which he hoped would nullify their power, but every +fresh scientific or theological writer had only made his doubts and +perplexities more and more confused and distressing; and it seemed at +last, even to Jessy Caird, that he ought to be released from playing a +part, which, however much good it did to others, was killing in its +personal effects. + +It was at this crisis he was walking one lovely Spring morning up +Buchanan Street, and met Major Macrae. They clasped hands with an +understanding smile, and the Major said, "I want an hour's talk with +you, Ian. It is important. Come home with me." So they went together to +Blytheswood Square, and into the little office at the back of the house, +and the Major said: + +"Ian, I am ready to recall Lord Cramer, and you will be glad to know +that his estate is now money-making and in good condition; and, as my +application for unlimited parole is not likely to be refused, there is +no reason for delaying my niece's marriage." + +"You must have great power with the War Office?" + +"I am the power behind the power. Also, it is the desire of the +Government that all noblemen should be on their estates. I have no doubt +Lord Cramer will receive what he desires." + +"He owed a large sum of money. Have you performed a miracle?" + +"No. I have only made available a much larger sum. Many years ago, while +riding with the late Lord, I noticed a peculiar appearance of the sea +among the little bays that wash the northern part of the estate. I +thought to myself, 'There is an oyster bed there,' but I said nothing, +for the late Lord was only too speculative, and I needed all his money +and all his interest at that time to get the property out of trouble. +When Lord Richard was in the same trouble I remembered my suspicions, +and sent half a dozen old oyster fishers to examine the situation. They +found immense beds of oysters, and now there is an oyster fishery +village there, and just one mile of railroad connects it with the line +to Edinburgh. And, man! there's your market all waiting and ready. There +never was such wonderful luck!" + +"But the village and the necessary materials, the boats and cottages, +the railroad and other requirements, must have cost a lot of money." + +"To be sure they have. I have put a lot into the development myself. Why +not? It will pay splendidly. Your future son-in-law will not only have a +steady flow of gold from his oyster beds, they will also supply him with +something to do and to look after. I have thought of that. I know it is +good for men to come constantly in contact with facts. It helps them to +keep their moral health. Tell Marion her lover may be home in three +months, and I hope, Ian, you will no longer oppose their marriage." + +"Marion can marry when she is twenty-one. Not until." + +"You cannot prevent the young from marrying. They will do it. Donald +tells me he is to be married on the fifth of December. I suppose you +know whom to?" + +"I know nothing about Donald, excepting that on the steamer to New York +he met a Scotchman called Macbeth, and that somehow they struck up a +friendship, and Donald was going with him to a place called Los Angeles. +He appears to be much older than Donald. I do not understand such +friendships, and, as I did not answer Donald's letter, he did not write +again--and I have heard nothing further." + +"I will tell you further, though you are not deserving the news--the why +and wherefore of the friendship between Donald and Mr. Macbeth was, +first of all, that they both played the violin and both loved it, and on +the voyage they turned the smoking-room into a concert room, for the +Captain played likewise, and he brought his violin there when he could. +The second thing was that everyone--men and women--were loving Donald, +and when they reached New York Macbeth would not part with the lad, and +they went together to Los Angeles, and then to his handsome home a few +miles from the city. There he had great vineyards and farms of figs and +lemons, and wonderful peaches and pears, and Donald has taken gladly and +happily to helping him in the making of wines and raisins and the drying +of fruit. The work is all out of doors in a climate like Paradise. In +the evenings they play their violins and sing Scotch songs, and are as +near heaven as they can be on earth." + +"You can't sing Scotch songs anywhere but in Scotland. They won't bear +transplanting any better than bell-heather. Fancy bell-heather in a +London park!" + +"Scotchmen are singing them all over _this_ world, and, for all I know, +all over _other_ worlds; but we are getting away from our subject, which +was my nephew, Donald Macrae. This Mr. Macbeth has a daughter, a +beautiful girl, not eighteen until the fifth of December. Then he will +give her to Donald with half a million dollars, which Donald will invest +in Macbeth's business, and so become his partner. The girl is lovely as +an angel. I have a picture of her. Do you want to see it?" + +"No." + +"And she has a beautiful name, and I'll just put it into your memory, +Ian. She is called Mercedes." + +"Spanish! Is she a Spaniard?" + +"Her mother was a California Spaniard of old and wealthy lineage." + +"A Roman Catholic, doubtless." + +"Of course. That goes without saying. It does not matter if she loves +God." + +"It matters anyway and everyway. It takes all the good out of the +circumstance. The girl was the devil's bait for the poor lad's soul." + +"Nonsense, Ian! One creed is as good as another. Creeds, indeed! +Religion has nothing to do with such outside details. God save us! What +kind of a head must a man have who could think so? I can tell you, Ian, +the belief in any creed stands in these days on the edge of a razor." + +"Then what have we left?" + +"We have Faith, man. Faith goes below creeds, straight to the +impassioned human hopes out of which creeds have grown. Faith in +spiritual matters is just what courage is in material life. _My word, +Ian!_ if you had only Faith, you would see some good in every creed." + +"Well, then, all creeds claim to come from the Bible." + +"There is no such thing as a creed or a system of Divinity in the +Book--nothing in it but human relations touched by the Spirit of God." + +"I am glad, however, to hear of Donald's good fortune." + +"It is wonderful. Every good gift of life put into his hand unsought. A +beautiful and wealthy wife, who loved him from the moment they met, and +a father-in-law who treats him already as a dearly beloved son." + +"Donald is not his son, however, and never can be. I am forever and ever +Donald Macrae's father." + +"A splendid home, a large and prosperous business, and the finest +climate outside of the Kingdom of Heaven. It is like a fairy tale," +continued the Major enthusiastically. + +Ian smiled, and said slowly, as if he could hardly remember the words he +wished to say, "You are right, + + 'It sounds like stories from the Land of Spirits, + If any one attain the thing he merits, + Or any merit that which he obtains.' + +I am glad to have heard such a romance." + +"Marion, or Mrs. Caird, could have told it to you, chapter by chapter, +as it was making." + +"And with what advices and entreaties!" + +"Words only. I never mind words. Ian, you are looking ill. What is the +matter with you? Is it the loss of that woman?" + +"The Duchess of Rotherham? No. I never allow myself to think of her. It +is a loss so transcendantly greater that there is not speech to define +the distance. _I have lost God!_" and he looked up with a face of such +desperate sorrow and patience as infected the heart of the older man +with uncontrollable pity. + +"O Ian! Ian!" he answered in a low, intense voice, "you cannot lose God, +and, if you could, He cannot lose you." + +"My father's brother![1] I have lost God, and the Devil----" + +[Footnote 1: Among Highlanders the name of the relationship expresses +more emotion than the baptismal name.] + +"Stop now. I disclaim for you and for myself all interest in the devil. +I deny him! I deny him! _Ach!_ I will not talk of him. If there be a +devil, he can talk for himself." + +"My God has left me. I know not where to find Him. I watch the day and +the night through for a whisper or a sign from Him. 'As the hart panteth +after the water brook, so panteth my soul for the living God.' To all my +pleading He is deaf and dumb. My heart would break, but He has made it +so hard that sometimes I can only pray for tears, lest I die of my +soul's thirst." + +"But this is dreadful, Ian, dreadful! Dear me! Dear me! What can I do?" + +"What do you do when, through faults all your own, you have lost the +sense of God's loving presence?" + +"I will tell you truly, Ian. I write down all my sins and shortcomings, +and then, kneeling humbly at His feet, I acknowledge them, and ask for +pardon. I wait a moment or two, and then I mark them out with the sign +of the [symbol: cross]. It cancels all, and generally I can feel this. +If I do not feel it, I know something is wrong, and the confession is to +make over again. It seems a childish thing for a man of sixty years old +to rely on, Ian, but it has kept me at His Pierced Feet all my life +long. If I had been a Roman Catholic--as the Macraes once all of them +were--I should have gone to my confessor and had the priest's +absolution; and I suppose it is some ancient feeling after the need and +the comfort of confession. For I have 'confessed' in this way ever since +I was a little lad, and I shall do so as long as I live. I have never +told anyone but you of my simple, solemn rite; but it is a very solemn +thing to me, however simple. Yes, it is. I speak the truth." + +"Thank you. It is sacred and secret with me. Tell me now what would you +do if you had to carry the burden Bunyan makes poor Christian carry +through the Slough of Despond every Sabbath. It is my unspeakable burden +to be compelled to preach. While I am preaching to others I am asking my +soul, 'Art thou not thyself become a castaway?' Life is too hard to +bear." + +"Yet it was small help or comfort you gave your congregation last +Sabbath." + +"I did not see you in Church." + +"I was there. It is indeed a very rare circumstance, but I was there, +and I heard you tell your hearers that, bad as this life was, the next +life would be much worse unless they lived a kind of righteousness +impossible to them. Why do people listen to such words? Why do you say +them? How do you dare to represent God as ordaining all things, yet +angry with the actions of the creatures whom He has created to disobey +His orders? And, since a man must sin by the very necessity of his +nature, why is he guilty of his sins? How can people bear such sermons?" + +"They do not feel them. No one takes them as for themselves. The +majority give all menaces to their neighbors. A great many do not +believe such doctrine any more than you do." + +"Then why do they go and hear it?" + +"Because in Glasgow, Uncle, the respectable element compel the scornful +to sit in the seat of the righteous. It is fashionable to go to church, +and the strictest sect is the most fashionable. Anything like +Armenianism or Methodism is democratic, and suitable only for the lower +classes--it is too emotional, and brings religion down to Ohs! and Ahs! +and to feelings that compel expression. There are various other reasons +not worth mentioning." + +"And you are permitting this false preaching of a false doctrine to kill +you?" + +"My trouble is far greater. Is there a God at all?" + +"Now, Ian, such a question as that never darkened any man's life who did +not go out of his way to seek it. Why did you meddle with those cloudy +German philosophies? Like Satan, they are one everlasting _No_! How +could you be influenced by them? I defy any metaphysician to argue me +out of the testimony of my soul and my senses. It is not the 'No!' but +the victorious 'Yes!' that life demands." + +Then Ian made some explanations, but without success. The Major laughed +scornfully at the names of his misleaders, and said, "I know all about +them that I want to know. I could not sleep if their books were under my +roof. _Imphm!_" he added with ejaculatory disdain. "You call their +ravings scientific religion and religious philosophy. _Rubbish_, +_rubbish_ is the exact term for them." + +"They have been widely read, sir." + +"Nonsense! The Scotch mind is far too logical to grasp an existence that +is non-existent; it sees no reality in what never happened, and you +cannot make it believe that 'Being and not Being' are identical facts. +It leaves all such ideas to those who live in that land + + 'Where Hegel found out, to his profit and fame, + That Something and Nothing were one and the same.' + +These two lines of a great critic were all I needed. I laughed heartily, +and sent all the philosophies I had to the Clyde. Sandy, who threw them +into it, said they went straight to the bottom. Ian, you are wandering +in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Are you quite alone? Have you lost +the Great Companion?" + +"Yes." + +"Then trust to the Man within you. No one can lose his soul who risks it +with his Higher Self. He will lead you to the One mighty to save. And go +and do your daily duty as you see it, and I am led to believe you will +require to begin in the house on Bath Street. _Dod, Man!_ I'm sorry for +the two poor women who have to live with you. You must be a very +uncomfortable, unsocial fellow to eat and to bide with." + +"I don't think so, Uncle. When I cannot eat it is kind to keep away from +the table; when I am unable to converse about the trivial things of +this life it is best for me to be silent. A man as full of sorrow as I +am----" + +"Fills the whole house with his worry and lamenting. Go home, and eat +with the two women you are treating so badly, and talk with them about +the people and the things that they love and care for. That you _can_ +do, and that you _must_ do." + +"They love and care for me." + +"I'm bound to say you don't deserve it, and that's a fact. Talk to them +of Donald and Lord Cramer, and talk hopefully and pleasantly. They will +be so grateful to you and so kind in return." + +"They are always kind to me." + +"Well, well! They just show that the grace of God and two women can live +with a man that no one else could live with. I met Marion last week in +the Arcade, and the little girl was miserable. She said you had scarcely +spoken a word for three days. It is not right. Go home and talk to +them." + +"How can I talk what seems foolishness to me?" + +"Try it. Foolishness has often turned out to be wisdom. There is what +Paul calls 'the foolishness of preaching.' What are you going to do +about that subject?" + +"What would you do, Uncle?" + +"I would preach the Truth, as I saw it and felt it, or--I would not +preach it at all." + +"Jessy Caird thinks that, until Marion is married, everything should +remain as it is. Then! Then I will seek God until I find Him, or die +seeking." + +"Just so! I have noticed that few things give a man more satisfaction +than a resolve to do better at some future time. As for Marion's +marriage, I can't see what influence your preaching or not preaching can +have on that circumstance. She will not be married in the Church of the +Disciples, and of course you cannot marry her." + +"Marion will be married in my church and I shall marry her. It will be a +great trial, but I shall not shirk it." + +"Lord Cramer will insist on being married in St. Mary's Church, and by +the Episcopal ritual. You would not be permitted to perform any service +in St. Mary's unless you had taken Episcopal orders." + +"Then we can have a private marriage." + +"We can do nothing of the kind. Do you think that I will consent to my +niece being married in a mouse hole? The Bishop is going to marry her, +and it is to be a very grand affair. I have influence to bring to the +ceremony most of our neighboring nobility, and the military friends of +Lord Cramer will be there in force, and their splendid uniforms will +make a fine effect. It is the first wedding I have ever had anything to +do with. You were married in a little Border village, and none of your +kin there;--father and mother and your wife, all gone!" and the Major +looked into the far horizon, as if he must see beyond it, while Ian +stood still and white at his side. Not a word was spoken. For a few +minutes both men surrendered themselves to Memory's divinest anguish. +Then the elder returned to their conversation and said--though in a much +more subdued manner: + +"Tell Marion to choose her six bride'smaids and give them beautiful +wedding garments; tell her all I have said, and try to take some +interest in the matter. Do, my dear lad, for no man will ever win Heaven +by making his earthly home a hell. Be sure and tell Marion that Lord +Cramer will be here in three months, and give her a big check to prepare +for his coming." + +"I promise to tell Marion. I will be as good as my word." + +"Just so. But this is a forgetful world, so I'll remind you of your +promise once more--and there is the girl's little fortune." + +"It is ready for her as soon as she is married. I have not touched a +penny of it. It is intact, principal and interest, and, by a little +careful investment, much increased." + +"You are a good man--a generous man." + +"No, no, Uncle. It was just pride, nothing better. She is _my_ child. I +preferred to take care of her myself--with my own money." + +Then they talked over the amounts to be spent on the marriage, on dress, +visitors, the ceremony and traveling expense, and when some decision had +been reached the Major was weary. He sighed heavily, and advised Ian to +go home and try to be of a kinder and more familiar spirit. "And tell +Marion," he said, "Lord Cramer will be in Glasgow in three or four +months, and she must have all her 'braws' ready, for he will not hear +tell of waiting--no, not for a day." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A DREAM + + For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in + the midst of her swift course.... Then suddenly visions of + horrible dreams troubled them sore, and terrors came upon them + unlooked for.--Wisdom of Solomon, 18: 14: 17. + + Dreams are rudiments of the great state to come. + + +For nearly two weeks after the Minister's talk with his uncle something +of the old cheerfulness and peace returned to the house on Bath Street. +To Marion her father was exceedingly kind and generous, and the girl was +radiantly happy in his love and in the many beautiful gifts by which he +proved it. But "the good and the not so good," which is, to some extent, +the inheritance of us all, gave him no rest, though for some days he was +able partially to control the strife. He had been too intense a believer +to stand still and say nothing about his doubts; and when a Scotchman +has cast off Calvin, and been unable to accept Kant, he is not an +agreeable man in domestic life. He was morbid, but he was not insincere, +and he was really desperate concerning the salvation of his own soul. +So the busy gladness of Mrs. Caird about the wedding preparations and +the joyous voice and radiant face of Marion, as the stream of love was +bearing her gently to the Happy Isles, rasped and irritated him. He was +beginning to feel that he had done enough--to wonder if he could not go +away until the marriage was an accomplished fact. Everything about it, +as far as he was concerned, had undergone the earth and been touched by +disappointment; and nothing had brought him back the calm peace, the +sweet content, the abiding strength that his old trust in the God of His +Fathers had always given. The cynicism of lost faith infected his +nature. He was even less courteous to all persons than he had ever been +before. The man was deteriorating on every side. + + "Oh, the regrets! the struggles and the failings! + Oh, the days desolate! the wasted years!" + +To such mournful refrains he walked, hour after hour, the crowded +streets and the narrow spaces of his own rooms; for he felt, even as St. +Paul did, that, if all this great scheme of Christianity were not true, +then its preachers were of all men most miserable. Generally speaking, +poor Burns' prayer that we might see ourselves as others see us is +surely an injudicious one, but if the Minister could have been favored +with one day's observation of Ian Macrae, as he really appeared to his +family, it might at least have given him food for reflection. + +After a day of great depression, partly due to the marriage preparations +and gloomy atmospheric conditions, but mainly, no doubt, to his wretched +spiritual state, he went one evening to a session at the Church of the +Disciples. He wondered at himself for going and his elders and deacons +wondered at his presence. He was lost in thought, took no interest in +the financial report of the treasurer, and left the meeting before it +closed. + +"The Minister was not heeding whether the Church was in good financial +standing or not," said Deacon Crawford, "and I never saw such a look on +any man's face. It comes back, and back, into my mind." + +"Ay," answered another deacon, "and did you notice his brows? They were +sorely vexed and troubled. And the eyes that had to live under them! +They gave you a heartache if he but cast them on you." + +"We'll be having a great sermon come the Sabbath Day, no doubt," said +the leading Elder; "and, the finances being in such good shape, what +think you if we give the Minister's daughter a handsome bridal gift?" + +"It isn't an ordinary thing to do, Elder." + +"The Minister is getting a very good salary." + +"He is an uncommonly proud man, too." + +"And his daughter is marrying a lord." + +"Well," answered the proposer of the gift, "there's plenty of time to +think the matter over," and all readily agreed to this wise delay. + +Though the Minister had left the session early, it was late when he +reached home, weary and hungry, and glad of Mrs. Caird's kind words and +plate of cold beef and bread. + +"Where on earth have you been, Ian?" she asked. "Do you know it is past +eleven?" + +"I have been going up and down and to and fro in the city, watching the +unceasing march of the armies of labor. The crowd never rested. When the +day workers stopped the night workers began--weary, joyless men. It was +awful, Jessy." + +"I know," said Mrs. Caird, "it is + + 'All Life moving to one measure, + Daily bread! Daily bread! + Bread of Life, and bread of Labor, + Bread of bitterness and sorrow, + Hand to mouth, and no to-morrow.' + +Good night, Ian. Go to sleep as soon as you can." + +How soon he kept this promise he never could remember; he only knew that +when he awakened he was drenched with the sweat of terror and trembling +from head to feet. "Who am I? Where am I?" he asked, as he fumbled with +the Venetian blind until it somehow went up and let in the early +dawning. Then he noticed the dripping condition of his night clothing, +and he hurried to his bed and cried out in a low, shocked voice, "_The +sheets are wet! The pillow is wet!_ What can it mean? What has happened? +_Oh, I remember!_" And he covered his face with his hands and his very +soul shuddered within him. + +Then his wet clothing shocked and frightened him, and he began to remove +it with palpitating haste, muttering fearfully as he redressed himself: +"How I must have suffered! Great God, the physical melts away at the +touch of the Spiritual! Oh, I wish Jessy would come! Why is she so late? +When I do not want her she is here half an hour before this time." The +next moment she tapped at his door and called, + +"Ian." + +"Oh, come in, Jessy. Come in! I want you! I want you!" + +"Breakfast is waiting." + +"Let it wait. Come in. I want you to tell me the truth, the plain, sure +truth about what I am going to ask you." + +"What is it, Ian?" + +"Jessy, did you ever know me to dream?" + +"Never. You have always declared that you could not understand what +Marion and I meant by dreaming." + +"Well, I had a dream this morning, and, though it seemed very short, I +felt when I awoke from it as if I had been in hell all the night long." + +"What did you dream?" + +"I was in the vestry of the Church of the Disciples, putting on my +vestments. I knew that the church was crowded, and I looked at myself +and was proud of my appearance. Then I was walking up the aisle very +slowly. Step by step I mounted the pulpit stairs, and stood facing the +largest congregation I had ever seen. And the light was just like the +light when there is an eclipse of the sun--an unearthly, solemn +obscurity, frightful and mysterious. I stood in my place and surveyed +the congregation. It filled the church, but the furthest points of +distance appeared to be nearly in the dark. I could see forms and +movements there, but nothing distinct. I looked at this gathering for a +moment, and then laid my hand upon the Bible, and, with my eyes still +upon the people, I opened it--Jessy!" + +"O man! Speak!" + +"There was nothing there." + +"Nothing there! What do you mean?" + +"Every page was blank--only white paper--not a word of any kind----" + +"Ian Macrae!" + +"I looked for my text. It was gone. I turned the pages with trembling +hands, but neither in the Old nor the New Testament was there a word. +And I cried out in my anguish, and looked at the wordless Bible till I +felt as if body and soul were parting. God, how I suffered! Earth has no +suffering to compare with it." + +"Then, Ian?" + +"Then I looked up at the congregation, and was going to tell them the +Bible had faded away, but I saw the people were a moving dark mass, in a +rapidly vanishing light; and I tried to find the pulpit stairs, but +could not, for I was in black darkness. And I was not alone; to the +right and the left there were movements and whispers and a sense of +_Presence_ about me. Powers unutterable and unseen that must have come +out of inevitable hell. The whole earth appeared to be awake and aware, +and _the Name_, _the Name_ I wanted to call upon I could not remember. +The effort to do so was a tasting of death." + +He covered his face and was silent, and Mrs. Caird took his cold hand +and said softly, "O Lord, Thou Lover of souls! Thou sparest all, for +they are Thine." + +"At last _the Name_ came into my heart, Jessy, and though I but +whispered the Word, its power filled the whole place, and the Evil Ones +were overcome--not with strength nor force of celestial arms, but with +that _One Word_ they were driven away; and I awakened and it was just +daylight, and I was so wet with the sweat of terror that I might have +been in the Clyde all night. Was this a dream, Jessy?" + +"Yes." + +"What does it mean?" + +"You know best. A God-sent dream brings its meaning with it. It is not a +dream unless it does so. You know, Ian. Why ask me?" + +"Yes, I know." + +About this experience Mrs. Caird would not converse, for she was not +willing to talk away the influence of Ian's spiritual visitation. She +was quite sure that he understood the message sent him, and equally sure +that he would implicitly obey it. So she left him alone, though she +heard him destroying papers all day long. The next day being Saturday, +he was very quiet, and she told herself he was preparing his sermon, and +then with a trembling heart she began to speculate as to its burden. She +feared that in some way his dream would come into relation or comment, +and she could not bear the idea of such a public confidence. + +She was still more uneasy when on Sunday morning he said in his most +positive manner, "Jessy, I wish you and Marion to remain at home to-day. +A little later you will understand my desire." + +"As you wish, Ian. We shall both be glad of a quiet rest day. I hope you +know what you are going to do, Ian. Our life is a spectacle--a tragedy +to both men and angels--bad angels as well as good ones. Don't forget +that, Ian." + +"I shall not forget, and I know what I am going to do." + +She looked at him anxiously, but had never seen him more decided and +purposeful. He was also dressed with extreme care, and, though in +ecclesiastical costume, was so singularly like his uncle that Mrs. Caird +involuntarily thought, "How soldierly he carries himself! What a fighter +he would have been! But he is some way quite different--not like the old +Ian at all." + +Yes, he was different, for on the soul's shoreless ocean the tides only +heave and swell when they are penetrated by the Powers of the World to +Come. And Dr. Macrae was still under the emotions of his first +experience of that kind. He was prescient and restless. For, though the +outward man appeared the same, the archway inside was uplifted and +widened, and Dr. Macrae had risen to its requirements. He was ready to +fight for his soul. Yes, with his life in his hand, to fight for its +salvation. What would it profit him if he gained the whole world and +lost his soul? + +Frequently he assured himself that he did not now regard the Bible as +divinely inspired, yet he was constantly deciding this or that question +by its decrees. So quite naturally he followed this tremendous inquiry +of Christ's by those two passionate invocations of David, "Cast me not +away from Thy Presence. Take not Thy Holy Spirit from me." To be cast +out of God's Presence. To be sent into the Outer Darkness, full of the +Evil Ones! "O Jessy!" he cried, "such a doom would turn a living man +into clay!" + +It was of this awful possibility he was thinking as he walked to the +Church of the Disciples. Two or three of the deacons were standing in +the vestibule, and they looked at him and then at each other with a +pleased expression. + +"We rejoice to see you, sir, looking so well," said one. "The church is +full, sir, and, if our clock is correct, there is but five minutes to +service time." + +He had five minutes yet, in the which he could draw back or postpone his +intention--or--or--then his dream came to his remembrance, and he put +all hesitation out of the question. With a thoughtful gravity he walked +down the aisle, ascended the pulpit stairs, and stood in his place +before the people. And they watched him with a sigh of content and +pleasure. They had often seen in his eyes that far-away gaze of one who +looks past the visible and sees time and eternity as the old prophets +saw them. + +They expected from this sign a sermon which would take them for an hour +"to the Land which is very far off." + +He stood silently facing his congregation, for even at this last minute +there came to his soul a doubtful whisper, "The position is yet yours. +You can delay any explanation a week--or even two. You had better do +so." He trembled under the strain of this instant decision. But the +whole congregation were rustling their hymn books and the precentor was +taking his desk. Then in a dear, vibrant voice he said: + +"We shall sing no hymn this morning. We shall make no prayer. I am here +to bid you farewell. You will see my face no more." + +There was an indescribable movement throughout the building, but nothing +articulate, and he quietly continued: "I have ceased to believe in the +divinity and the inspiration of the Bible. It is not any longer to me +the Word of God. It has nothing to say to me, either of Time or +Eternity. Its pages are blank. I might have gone away from you without +any explanation. I was tempted to do so, but we have been twenty years +together, and I desired to give you my last words." There was no +response from the cold, voiceless crowd, but he felt their antagonism to +be more palpable than that of either scornful looks or reproachful +words. With eloquent anger he described the cynical complaisance with +which the very existence of God and the inspiration of the Bible were +now challenged and discussed. "There is boundless danger in all such +discussions," he cried. "As long as we are loving and simple-minded we +judge the Bible by the heart and not by the intellect. And of such are +the Kingdom of Heaven." Then, as he spoke, the _Word_ became _Flesh_ and +prevailed like a message from another world. Many were the hard words he +gave them, and, if he had never before spoken the whole truth, he did so +at this last hour--not of any settled purpose--but because it was the +last hour, and he wanted them to see through his sight "the dead, small +and great, standing before God for the judgment to come." + +At this point the church was no longer either cold or voiceless, it felt +rather as if it were on fire. The people trembled and prayed and wept as +he spoke, and Ian Macrae was a man they had never before seen. His tall, +grave figure radiated a kind of awe, his voice rang out like a command. +The keen spiritual life within lit up his pale, striking face, and in +his eyes there was a strange glory--they shone like windows in a setting +sun. + +The intensity of feeling had been so great that there was in about +fifteen minutes an inevitable pause. Then he looked round, and +continued: + +"Listen to me a few moments, while I illustrate what I have said by my +own experience. A few months ago the Bible lay in every fold of my +consciousness. Now it has nothing to say to me, and it is impossible to +describe the loneliness and grief that fills my empty heart. For the God +of my Bible has left me. All my life I had trusted to whatever God said +in His Word. God had said it, and I knew that God would keep His Word. +Then I was tempted by the devil--no, by the gift of one thousand pounds, +to examine my Father's Word--to prove, and to test, and to try it, by +the suppositions and ideas of some small German, French, English--and +Scotch, so-called philosophers. And I was too small for the intellectual +dragon I went out to slay. All of them wounded me in some way, and my +God left me. I deserved it. I have lost my place among the sons of God. +With my own hand I crossed out my name from the list of those who serve +His altar. In the honored halls of St. Andrews they will think it kind +to forget Ian Macrae. + +"I am now bidding farewell--bidding farewell forever--to you, and not +only to you, but to all the innocent pleasures and happy labors of the +past. For me there is no birthday of Christ--no farewell supper in the +upper chamber--no flowery Easter morning. I dare not even think of that +sacred ghost story in the garden, for, if the stone was not rolled away +from the grave of Christ, it lies on every grave that has been dug since +the creation. And if there is no resurrection of the body--there is no +Life Eternal--_there is no God_!" + +His voice had sunk at the last few words, but it was poignantly audible. +A long, shuddering wail filled the church, and the women's cries and the +men's mutterings and movements were sharply distinct. Then the Senior +Elder looked expressively at the precentor, and he instantly raised the +hymn known to every church-going Scot: + + "O God of Bethel, by whose hand + Thy people still are fed, + Who through this weary wilderness + Hast all our fathers led." + +The first line was lifted heartily by the congregation; they evidently +felt it to be a proclamation of their Faith, but the melody quickly +began to scatter and cease, and before the first four lines were sung it +had practically ceased. Everyone, with movements of shock or sorrow, was +watching the Minister, who was slowly removing from his shoulders the +vestment of his office. In a few moments he had laid it slowly and +carefully over the front of the pulpit. Then he turned to the stairs, +and he remembered his dream and was afraid of them. What if there should +be only _one_ step to the floor below? The descent seemed steep and +dark. He kept his hand on the railing of the balusters, and the cries of +hysterical women and movements and mutterings of angry men filled his +ears. It was growing dark. He felt that he was losing consciousness. +Then a large, strong hand was stretched up to him, and, grasping it +gratefully, he reached the ground in safety. And when he looked into his +helper's face he said with wonder, "Uncle! You?" + +[Illustration: "The descent seemed steep and dark"] + +"Just me, laddie. Keep your heart and head up. Come what will, you've +done what's right. Put your arm through mine. We will take this walk +together." + +So arm in arm down the long aisle they went, and the Major said +afterward, "It was a worse walk than any down a red lane on a +battlefield." The women mostly covered their faces and wept. Many of the +men were standing up, angry and offensive in word and manner, but sure +that their attitude was well pleasing to God and to the Kirk He loved. +The Major's carriage was standing at the curbstone, and, without delay, +yet also without hurry, they took it and went together to Dr. Macrae's +home. Being Sunday morning, the streets were nearly empty, and the +drive, as became the day, was slow and silent. But Ian's hand was +clasped in his uncle's hand, and words were not necessary. + +Mrs. Caird was at the open door to meet them. "I heard the clatter of +the Major's horses; they clatter louder than any other in Glasgow--but +what are you here for? Who's preaching this morning? Ian, are you ill? +Major, what is it?" + +"Wait a while, my dear lady. Ian wishes to be alone, and I am going to +take lunch with you. Then I will tell you all that Ian has done. I am +going to give to-morrow to Ian and his affairs, so he will not require +to worry himself either about the Kirk or the market place." + +"I wish I had been present," answered Mrs. Caird. "I wish I had! I think +I also would have had a few words to say--or at least a few questions to +ask." + +"I cannot understand Ian taking such a noticeable farewell. It would +have been more like him to have said nothing to anyone, just resigned +without reason or right about it. But doubtless he had a reason." + +"He had. Two nights ago he had a dream." + +"Never! Ian never dreams." + +"He dreamt last Friday morning just at or before the streak of dawn. +Listen!" + +Then in an awed and whispering voice she related Ian's dream. The Major, +who was naturally a psychic man and a great dreamer, listened with +intense interest, but did not at once make any comment. After a short +reflection, however, he answered with an air of complacent gratitude: + +"God's dealings with the Macraes have ever been close and personal. +Plenty of preachers are no doubt preaching this day what they do not +believe, but they have not been shown and warned like Ian. I think his +dream was a great honor and favor." + +"You Macraes have a wonderful way of appropriating God. I dare say a +great many ministers have been warned and advised as well as Ian." + +"No, Jessy, they have not. If they had been warned as Ian was warned, +they would have done exactly as Ian has done. Dreams are strange things. +You cannot help noticing them--you cannot help being led by them. I +wonder why." + +"Because dreams belong to the Spiritual World, and humanity has an +instinctive belief in this Spiritual World. You do not have to teach men +and women to dream. A true dreamer has the gift in childhood as +perfectly as in old age. There is no age, no race, no class, no +circumstances free from dreams. God is everywhere and knows everything, +and He speaks to His children in dreams and by the oracles that lurk in +darkness." + +"In my own life, Mrs. Caird, they have often read the future. How do +they do it?" + +"How can we tell what subtle lines are between Spirit and Spirit? A +century ago nobody knew how messages could be sent through the air--sent +all over the world. We had not then discovered the medium nor the +method. In another century--or less--we may discover the medium and +method of communication between this world and the other." + +"Do you think some houses are more easily visited by dreams than +others?" + +"Yes, and for many reasons, but they cannot be prevented from entering +any place to which they are sent. I was not a week at Cramer before I +was aware + + 'of Dreams upon the wall, + And visions passing up the shadowy stair and through the vacant + hall.'" + +"I am glad you told me of Ian's dream. I understand him better now." + +"And like him better?" + +"Yes, but I have always loved Ian above all others." + +"Then be patient with him now. It is hard for mortals to live when their +moments are filled with eternity." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LOVE IS THE FULFILLING OF THE LAW + + "Then, as the veil is rent in twain, + From unremembered places where they lay + Dead thoughts, dead words arise and live again, + The clouded eyes can see, the lips can pray. + A purer light dawns on the night of pain, + And, on the morrow, 'tis the Sabbath day." + + The love of God, which passeth all understanding. + + +For a few days Dr. Macrae was seen frequently about the streets of +Glasgow. Some bowed to him, some passed by on the other side. He was +also generally accompanied by Major Macrae or by a certain well-known +lawyer, neither of them men partial to greetings in the market place or +conversations at the street corners. So in a manner he was protected by +his companions and his preoccupation. In his home all knew that he was +going away, but no one named the circumstance to him. It was not an easy +thing to talk to Macrae on subjects he did not wish named. + +Indeed, it was four days after his public resignation from the ministry +before the Church of the Disciples ventured to make any movement +signifying their acceptance of his withdrawal. Then a little company of +church officials called on him to exchange some necessary papers and pay +the salary which was due. Thomas Reid's name was among those of the +visitors, and for a moment Ian resolved not to meet them. But it was +Jessy Caird who brought him their request, and she looked so +persuasively at Ian that he answered: + +"Very well, Jessy, if you think so, send them in here." + +When the little band entered his study his heart melted at the sight of +these old associates of his dead life. They had honored and loved him +for many years, and his miserable state was not their fault. Only Elder +Reid had ever offended, and he had always regretted the trouble and been +glad when it was removed. So Ian looked at them with his heart in his +eyes, and they looked at him and could not utter a word. + +For this man was not their long-beloved Minister. He was even outwardly +so changed they could not for a few moments accept him. That very day +Ian had taken off his "blacks" forever. The long black broadcloth coat +and vest and the snow-white band around his throat had been replaced by +a very handsome suit of dark tweed, such as they were themselves +wearing. And this change in his dress--so totally unexpected--moved +them beyond all reason. They looked at him in silence, and their hearts +and eyes were full of unshed tears. + +They had seated themselves on the long sofa, and Macrae rose and went to +them: "You have come to bid me farewell," he said, "and I am glad to see +you--you have been brothers to me--it breaks my heart to part with +you--and all you represent--but I must go. I know not where--nor yet +what may befall me, but if I die I shall die seeking the God I have +loved--and--lost." + +As he spoke he advanced to the man nearest him and held out his hand, +and it was taken with great apparent love and emotion. An older man bent +his head over it--was it not the kindly, gracious hand that had so often +broken to him the Bread of Life? Thomas Reid was the last of the +company. He looked into Macrae's face with brimming eyes, and when he +took Ian's offered hand a great tear dropped upon the clasping fingers. +Both men saw it, and Macrae said with a sad smile: + +"That washes all unkindness out, Elder," and with sobbing words Reid +answered: "It does, sir. It does. O Minister, is it not possible for you +to unsay the words you said last Sabbath Day?" + +"No." + +"The Lord is merciful to His elect." + +"I have denied the Lord, and He has forsaken me." + +"He cannot forsake those whom He has chosen. You have lived a good +life." + +"I have not. I have run after strange gods. I have looked His Word in +the face and disobeyed it. I have put scientific and philosophical +religion in the place of Christ's religion, and my Bible, once full of +comfort, has nothing to say to me." + +"Well, then, sir, you know who is the mediator between God and man." + +"Elder, if there is a God, I want to find Him." + +"Then seek Him, sir." + +"I am seeking Him as those who seek for life and life eternal. Through +the world I will seek Him. To the last breath of this life I will call +upon--perhaps--if there is a God--He may hear me." + +Blind with feeling, the men went away so quietly that Mrs. Caird threw +down her work and said impatiently: "There! He has sent them off without +a word. How could he do it? Oh, but Scots are hard-baked men. Even those +proud English would have had a 'God speed' to bless the parting, and +I----" + +Then Ian entered, and he said cheerfully: "We had a pleasant parting, +Jessy. I am glad of it. I would have been sorry to have missed it." + +"What did you say to them?" + +"What I said last Sabbath--that I was going to seek Him whom my soul +loveth, even if I died in the search." + +"There is no 'if' in such a search. God is not a 'highly probable' God. +He is a fact. He is nearer to you than breathing, closer than hands and +feet. Even a pagan knew that much, Ian; all that is wanted is to become +conscious of the _nearness of God_, and to seek God with all your heart +and all your soul, and you will find Him. Not perhaps! You _will_ find +Him." And Ian was silent and troubled, and went away. + +Then Jessy took her knitting again, and, as she lifted the dropped +stitches, said slowly and sorrowfully: "Ah me! How many half-saved souls +must come back again to learn the lesson they should have learned in +this life. God may well be merciful to sinners, for they know not what +they do." + +On Saturday morning he went very quietly away. He had done all that +could be done for the happiness of his family, and the situation had +been tranquilly accepted by them. There was no haste, no irritating +questions or advices, and, as soon as he was out of sight, everyone went +back to the work occupying them. Yet the man they had watched away was +near and dear to them, and full of a sorrow so great they hardly +understood it. + +He was bound for the Shetlands, because he believed he would find in +their simple Kirks the height, and depth, and purity of Calvinism. But +he found nothing peculiar to these strong, silent fishers. They had +generally an inflexible faith in their own election, and in the ordering +of their lives by a God who knew "neither variableness nor shadow of +turning." They went fearlessly out on any sea a boat could live in, +because, if it was not their appointed hour of death, "water could not +drown them"; and in all other matters they approved of John Calvin's +plan of sin and retribution, and stuck to it like grim death. + +Yet he spent the whole summer in Shetland, and winter was threatening to +shut in the lonely islands when he saw one morning an unusual craft +fighting her way into harbor. She was a strong, handsome boat, a perfect +model of what a fine fishing-smack should be, and she was flying a blue +ribbon from her masthead. Evidently she was one of the mission ships +serving the Deep-Sea Fishermen. Ian was instantly much interested, and +soon fell into conversation with one of her surgeons, who took him on +board and who talked to him all day of this great floating city of the +fishing fleets--a city whose streets were made of tossing ships--a city +without a woman in it--a city whose strange, winding lanes of +habitations ceaselessly wander over the lonely, stormy miles of the +black North Sea--a city even then of more than forty thousand +inhabitants. + +"And what of the men in this floating city?" asked Ian. + +"They are men indeed! Speaking physically, they are the flower of our +race. They have muscles like steel, their eyes are steady, their feet +sure. The sight of the work they do strikes terror in the heart of one +not used to it. When the call comes for the great net to be hauled they +hurry, half-asleep, on deck, very often to face a roaring icy wind, +lashing sleet or blinding snow. They tramp round the capstan and tug and +strain with dogged persistence until the huge beam of the trawl comes +up. Then, often in the dark, they grope about till they mechanically +coil the nets and begin the gruesome work of sorting and packing fish, +with but fitful gleams of light." + +"What a dreadful life!" exclaimed Ian. + +"And when the haul is over there is no bath, no change of clothes, no +warmth for the men. They plunge into their reeking dog-hole of a cabin, +and in their sodden clothes sleep until the next call sends them on deck +with their clothes steaming. + +"But you see, sir," he continued, "we are beginning to send mission +ships and hospital ships among the fleets, and the men do not have--when +they break or fracture a limb, or in other ways injure themselves--to +be tossed from ship to ship until, perhaps after three or four days, +they come to a place where they can be attended to." + +"And are you improving these conditions in every way?" asked Ian. + +"Yes, indeed, very rapidly." + +"I should like to go with you." + +"No. You would soon be wretched. You could not bear to see the smacksmen +at their work. It makes me shiver to think of it. Two days ago I +attended to a man who had shattered three fingers and divided a tendon, +and who was working out his time in pain that would have been unbearable +to me or to you. Our hospital ships, when we have builded plenty of +them, will alter such things. But, sir, if you do not want to die of +heartache, keep out of the Deep-Sea Fishing Fleet. No weakling could +stand it--he could not live a month in it." + +Ian, however, could not be discouraged. He remained anxious to see the +fleet fisheries at close quarters, and when a boat, urged by four strong +rowers, came that afternoon for the surgeon, Ian pleaded to accompany +him. "I can help you, Doctor," he said. "I know a little about surgery." +So Ian prevailed, and in a few minutes was with the surgeon on his way +to the injured man. They found him lying in a lump on the deck, under +his head a coil of ropes. The skipper stood at his side, making no +pretense to hide his grief. "It's Adam Bork, Doctor," he said, "the best +sailor in the fleet, _my old mate_. Doctor, do something for him." + +The Doctor looked at the man, then at the skipper. "There is not a +hope," he answered. "He is dying now." + +The man heard and understood, he looked at the skipper and the skipper +bent to his face. Something was asked, something was promised, and the +two men, with one long farewell look, parted forever. + +The Doctor soon found other patients, and he told Ian to watch by the +dying sailor and to give him spoonsful of cold water as long as he could +take them. + +"Is that all that can be done?" inquired Ian. + +"I will ask him," and he said, "Adam, you are in mortal pain--the pains +of death--shall I give you something to ease them?" + +"What can you give me?" + +"Laudanum." + +"No. I won't go to God drunk." + +"You are right, Bork. Good-bye." + +About dawning the dying man looked at Ian with such a piteous +entreaty in his pale blue eyes that Ian felt he must, if possible, +grant whatever he desired. Very slowly and distinctly he asked, +"What--do--you--want--me--to--do?" and the answer came, as if from +another world, muffled and far off, but thrilled with such an agonizing +intensity that it struck Ian as if it was a physical blow, + +"_Pray for me!_" + +Ian knelt down. He tried to pray, but he could not. With almost +superhuman efforts he tried to pray, not for himself, but for this poor +sailor sinking and dying in that dark place, struggling, forsaken, +alone, but he could not. Again the dying man whispered, "_Pray!_" and +his eyes were full of reproach, and the look in them almost broke Ian's +heart. The next moment he was gone. + +It was against all Ian's spiritual feelings to pray for the dead, but in +after years he prayed often and sincerely, "for the repose of the soul +of Adam Bork." And why not? God was still in His Universe, Adam was +therefore somewhere in God's presence. It may even be that prayer +prevails there more easily than here. Creeds may say what they like, the +heart of humanity prays for its beloved dead as naturally as it prays +for its beloved absent. + +As soon as possible Ian was put on shore, and a week afterward he found +himself in his uncle's home. He had gone first to Bath Street, but the +house there was closed and empty. There were placards in the windows +offering it for sale or rent, and the windows themselves, always so +spotless, were now black with smoke and dust. It was a cold day and had +a sharp promise of winter in its flurries of north wind and little +showers of icy rain with them. All was desolation. Ian's first thoughts +were of an angry, injured nature. The empty house told its own story. +Marion was married, Donald in California, and Jessy had doubtless +returned to her own home in the Border country. "No one cared about him, +etc.," and when people get into this selfish mood they never ask +themselves whether they are reasoning on just or unjust premises. + +So Ian went to Blytheswood Square, and found his uncle cheerfully eating +a good dinner. He was delighted at his nephew's return. "Laddie! +Laddie!" he cried joyfully, "you are a sight to cure sore eyes. I was +just thinking of you; when did you touch Glasgow?" + +"An hour ago. I went to Bath Street, and found the house empty." + +"Just so. All gone to bonnier and better homes. At least they think so, +and we must even bear the same hope. Where have you been?" + +"In the Shetlands. I found nothing to help me there. The last week I +spent with the North Sea Fishing Fleet." + +"Did you? I am delighted. That is where all my spare cash goes. That is +the reason I do not give Elder Reid a big sum for his Foreign Mission +Fund. I do not like Hindoos and Chinamen, and they have a religion of +their own quite good enough for them. But oh! Ian, those big, brave +fellows, working like giants and suffering beyond ease or help, they are +our kin--leal, brave Scots, who would die for Scotland's right, or +Scotland's faith, any hour it was necessary. It was only yesterday Reid +stopped me on the street and asked me for a subscription for the Chinese +Missions." + +"What did you say?" + +"I did not heed him. I buttoned up my coat and set my eyes far off to +the river side." + +"You did right." + +"It stands to reason that Scotchmen ought to look after their own +first." + +"I suppose I am quite forgotten. I have had no letters. I do not know +whether anything has happened or not." + +"You left no address. You wrote to no one. Yes, to me you sent one +letter, full to its edges with uncertainties. You must remember Marion +is married and greatly taken up with her husband. You never answered +Donald's letter, and the lad, of course, takes it for granted that his +silence was what you wished. Ian, you have tried wandering, and there is +no peace or profit in it. Now, then, if you cannot pray, you can work; +if you can't love God, you can love your fellow creatures. Dr. James +Lindsey was here last week, and I spoke to him about you. When you were +a stripling you were all for surgery, and Dr. James thinks you will yet +make a fine surgeon. You are to live with him, and he was delighted at +the very thought of your company. It is the great opportunity left you, +and I hope you see all its possibilities and will accept them." + +Ian was satisfied at the prospect. It was quite true that even in +boyhood he had had a craving for the surgical profession, and the +arrangements made for him by the two elder gentlemen were so homely and +generous, and so full of kind consideration, that he was greatly moved +by their unselfishness. In a few days he went to London, and was met at +the train by Dr. Lindsey. Ian was not ignorant of him. He had seen him +at his uncle's house several times, and he knew that the Major and Dr. +James had been friends since ever they were barefooted laddies, fishing +in the mountain streams together. + +Neither was Lindsey ignorant of Ian. He had heard him preach, and he +knew something of the soul struggle through which he was passing. +Indeed, he had his own plans for relieving this spiritual misery, and, +as soon, therefore, as Ian reached London, he found all his days filled +with study and labor. But his surroundings were homelike and pleasant, +and the men were intellectually well matched. + +Now, the road downward is easy and rapidly taken, and Ian had managed +to slip from the pinnacle of ministerial fame into silence and +forgetfulness in about one year, but it took him a ten years' climb to +win his way to about the same pitch of public favor in his new vocation. +But of this ten years I shall have little to say. The road upward is a +climb to the very top, and all men find it so, but Ian enjoyed the study +and the practical work of his profession and became extraordinarily +skillful in it. + +Their lives were by no means dull or monotonous. Truly the day was given +up to business, but they usually dined together at seven, and afterward +went to the opera or theater, or perhaps to a reception at some house +where they were familiar and honored guests. Or, if they wished to stay +at their own fireside, they were the best of good company for each +other. Nothing that touched man's soul or body came amiss for their +discussion, and if Ian was the more widely and generally educated, Dr. +Lindsey had the keener spiritual instinct, and his soul often ventured +where Ian's followed only with flagging and uncertain wings. In the +summer they made short trips to the Continent or they went to Glasgow, +and, being joined there by the Major, sailed north to the Macrae +country, and then home by Cromarty and Fife. + +When Ian had been in London ten years Dr. Lindsey began to talk of a +rather longer holiday than usual. "But first," he added, "here is a +letter from Squire Airey, and he wants either you or me to run up to +Airey Hall to examine his fractured arm. It is all right, I know, but he +is frightened and impatient, and you might go as far as Furness and make +him comfortable." + +"I should like to go. I have long wanted to see Windermere, and I could +return that way." + +With his patient at Airey Hall Ian stayed two days, and on the third +morning the Squire said: "Doctor, I will give you a good mount, and you +can ride as far as Ambleside. You will go through a lovely land. Leave +the horse at the Salutation Inn in Ambleside when you take the train. I +will send a groom for it." + +So Ian took the Squire's offer, for it was a lovely day in August, and +everything seemed to shimmer and glow through a soft golden haze. The +tender, peaceful scenes on all sides induced in him a little mood of +pathos or regret. He could not help it. He had no particular reason for +it; he appeared, indeed, to be in a very enviable condition. He was yet +exceedingly handsome, for it takes a Scotchman fifty years to clothe his +big frame, to round off the corners and soften the large features, and +to make out of a gigantic block of bone and sinew a handsome, finely +modeled man. He had, as far as business went, made himself twice over. +He was the welcome friend and guest of the greatest scientists and +physicians, and his short visits to the most exclusive drawing-rooms +were regarded as great favors. Was he not happy, then? No. Regret, like +a slant shadow, darkened all his sunshine, and the want of personal love +left his life poor and thin on its most vital side. + +Nor could he ever forget that solemnly joyful night following the day of +his admission to the ministry. Like the knights of old, he had spent the +midnight hours in the dark, still Kirk of Macrae, and the promises he +then made and the secret, sacred joys of his espousal to the Holy +Office, had been graven on his memory by a pen which no eraser can +touch. Whenever he was long alone this memory shone out in every detail, +and he said once, in a passion of anger at himself: "If I had been a +soldier of the Queen, they would have drummed me out of the ranks. I +would have deserved it--yes, I would!" + +This morning the unwelcome memory returned and returned, and, in order +to be rid of it, he began to pity himself for the loneliness of his life +and the misfortune which had attended all his affections. + +"There was old Lord Cramer, his apparent kindness was all a plot to get +a little posthumous fame out of my intellect. His one thousand pounds +was a miserable price for the work he proposed for me, and he tried to +pass it off as a kindness. I hate the man, and I hate myself for being +fooled by him. Lady Cramer--nay, I will let her go--another has judged +her now. Donald, whom I idolized, nearly broke my heart, gave a son's +love to a stranger, married a Spaniard and a Roman Catholic, and has not +noticed me for years. I dare say Donald and that Scotchman have had many +a laugh over my leaving the ministry. Jessy went to them, and she could +tell them every circumstance of the event. And, though Marion writes +whiles, and has called her son after me, I never see her unless she +happens to be at Uncle Hector's when I go to see him. And, of course, I +cannot call at Lord Cramer's house, not even to see my daughter. Was any +man ever so undeservedly deserted as I am?" + +He was slowly passing through a little village as he troubled his heart +with these thoughts. And, as he looked at the small dark cottages +wanting the usual gardens of flowers, he said to himself, "It is a +mining village; there must be many of them in this locality;" and so was +returning to his unprofitable musing when a tremendous explosion +occurred, and the women from every cottage ran crying to the pit mouth. +Ian also hastened there, and, when he said he was a physician, was taken +down in the first cage. It stopped at an upper gallery and the men ran +backward into the mine. Ian thought he had suddenly awakened from life +and found himself in hell. He heard only cries and groans and shouts, +and the running of men and their frantic calling of names. And he was +spellbound at the first moment by the sight of a boy about nine years +old, lying in a narrow cut of the coal, with a great block of coal +across his body. His father stood beside him, his face full of +unspeakable love and pity, for the mute anguish of the child was +terrible. But, ere he could speak to them, there was a frenzied rush of +men crying, "Fire! Fire! After-damp!" For just one minute they stood at +the cut where the child lay, and called, "For God's sake, Davie, come, +come, come!" and Davie shook his head slightly, and answered, + +"_Nay, I'll stay with the lad._" + +And when Ian heard these words, they smote him like a sword, and he +cried out: "_I have seen God's love!_ This hour _I have seen God's +love_--like as a father pitieth his children--even unto death--so God +pities and loves. My God, love me! Teach me how to love! I am thy +faithless son, Ian; forgive me and love me!" + +He was in an ecstasy, and, even as he prayed, a still, small voice ran, +like a swift arrow of flame, through all the black galleries of the +mine--a voice like the noise of many waters, but sweet as the music of +heaven, and it spoke but one word: + +"_Ian!_" + +Through all that earthly hell, filled with death and horror of +suffering, above the crying of the men, above the screams of the +wounded, the voices of fear and agony, this wonderful voice passed +along, swift as the lightning, yet full of the divinest melody. + +These events so marvelous to Ian had not occupied more than a moment or +two of time. Then there was another rush of men with the assurance that +it would be the last. They swept Ian with them, but Davie, still +standing by his child, just shook his head and repeated his decision, +"_Nay, I'll stay with the lad_"; and the crowd, with fire behind them, +struggled to the cage and were drawn up to the sunshine. + +At the pit mouth Ian met the rescue company of the pit and the +physicians, and he untied his horse and rode away into the woods and +hills. He was weeping unconsciously, washing every word he uttered with +tears of repentance and love. + +"Oh, it is wonderful!" he cried. "_Wonderful! Wonderful!_ Out of all the +millions of men in this world, _God knew my name_. He knew _where I +was_. He _called me by my name_. Oh, miracle of love!" + +All the way to Ambleside he rode slowly. He was in a transport of love +and joy--had he not been veritably taken by God's love "out of hell"? He +was thrilled with wonder, and he would make no haste. He bent his soul +to the heavenly influences which had made the last few hours forever +memorable. So his prayers grew sweeter and calmer. They had in them the +voices of the night wind, the awe of the stars, and the rustle of unseen +wings. And, just as he was entering Ambleside, his Bible took part in +his happiness and whispered to his heart a verse he had read hundreds of +times, but which at this hour seemed to have been written specially for +him. + +"Fear thou not. I have redeemed thee. I have called thee by thy name. +Thou art mine."--Isaiah 43:1. + +He knew then what he was to do. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AFTERWARD + + "Christ is God's realized idea of perfected humanity." + + "Think, when our Soul understands + The Great Word which makes all things new, + When earth breaks up and heaven expands, + How will the change strike me and you + In the house not made with hands?" + + "Pouring Heaven into this shut House of Life!" + + +According to a literary scripture, my story should end here. I have +satisfied my proposition--the man who lost God has found Him; therefore, +to say more is to pass my climax and break a very prominent canon of +criticism. But I am sure that there are many who have followed the +struggle of Ian Macrae into the Second Birth who will desire to know +what the New Man did with his New Life; and I think it better to grant a +good wish than to keep a literary law. + +In that blessed night, full of the presence of God, which Ian had spent +on the hills surrounding Ambleside, he had looked steadily and hopefully +into the future, and clearly understood what he must do. So he never +thought of returning to London, but early in the morning took a train to +Glasgow. In the place where he had doubted and denied God he must show +Him forth publicly as the Father and Lover of Souls, the God gracious +and long-suffering, full of mercy and truth. He was anxiously longing to +begin this work; he grudged the hours in which he had to be silent, and +was full of a buoyant joyfulness so sincere and so radiant that people +looked into his face and involuntarily smiled. + +He reached Glasgow before the noon hour, and as soon as he was inside +his uncle's house he called him in resounding tones, full of eager, +wistful excitement. And the Major, who was in his private office, +recognized the voice and went hastily to meet his nephew. + +"Why, Ian, Ian! What is the matter?" he cried. "Whatever has come to +you? You look--you speak like a different man!" + +"Uncle! _Brother of my father!_ I have found what I lost! I have found +Him whom my soul loveth!" Then they sat down, and Ian related the +wonderful story of the last wonderful twenty-four hours; and the old man +listened with a joy past utterance. His face radiated wonder and love, +his blue eyes shone through reverential tears, unconsciously his head +and hands were uplifted, and his lips whispered the prayer of +thanksgiving that was in his heart. + +"It is a heavenly story, Ian," he said, "and the greatest wonder is +this--though numberless souls have such experiences, every one has its +own solemnly distinct personality. And their number never makes them +common. They are always wonderful. They are never doubted, and they +never fail. But, Ian, no one that has been 'called by name' can ever +forget the voice that called him; it haunts and hallows life +forevermore. Now, then, what are you going to do?" + +"I am going to preach the Love of God!--the patient, everlasting Love of +God! O Uncle, can I ever forget the love in that father's face as he +stood waiting to die with his child? I was not told, I did not read of +it, I _saw_ the love of God in that father's face, and knew in that +moment how God so loved the world that He gave His Son for its +salvation. Now, through all the days of my life, I am going to preach +the Love of God." + +"That is right. You shall have a church here--in Glasgow." + +"Somewhere among the teeming habitations of the poor." + +"No. The rich need the gospel you have to preach more than the poor do. +We will build among the terraced crescents, where the rich dwell. And +we will build of good gray granite, and finish it with the best of +everything--and the pulpit will be yours." + +"Dear Uncle, no pulpit! I could not go into one again. I have two +memories of a pulpit. I wish to forget them. But there is something we +have not spoken of that I desire greatly to have in connection with my +church. I mean a dispensary. Christ healed the body as well as the soul; +for it is not a soul, nor is it a body we wish to train upward--it is a +_Man_, and we ought not to divide them." + +So they talked over the dispensary with perfect accord, all the time the +table was being laid for dinner and the meal eaten. Nothing interfered +with this interest. It was quite a fresh one to the Major, and he was +greatly delighted with the idea. Indeed, it was the old soldier who +first proposed a small surgery connected with the dispensary. "When I +was at the wars," he said, "I saw many a poor man suffering for want of +the knife and a bandage. We must have a little surgery, Ian." And Ian +joyfully acceded to the proposition. + +"It will be a big increase in your work, Ian, but----" + +"O Uncle, I am here to work--not to study and dream. I must work, I must +preach; I must help the sick and sorrowful. How soon can the church be +ready?" + +"I do not know exactly, but we will build the surgery and dispensary as +soon as we have got the proper location. They will give you many good +opportunities while the church is building. And I hope you have not +forgotten duties kin and kindred to yourself. They cannot be overlooked, +Ian." + +"I will overlook none of them, Uncle. I have been a great sinner in this +respect." + +"For instance, Marion has never weaned herself from you. She talks of +you constantly when she comes here, and we have had some tearful hours +about your silence and neglect." + +"I will atone for them as soon as may be. I have often been sorry that I +did not stay and see her marriage." + +"It was a grand affair. Nothing like it was ever seen in Glasgow before +or since. There were the Bishop and two clergymen to perform the +ceremony and a notable company to see that it was properly done. Among +this company were three officers from the Household troop, and, if I had +the words, I would tell you about their splendid uniforms and stars and +ribbons of honor. And there was Lochiel, in full Highland costume, +looking more like some old god than a man--and McAllister and McLeod and +Moray, and half a dozen more in all their varieties of kilts and plaids +and philabegs; velvet vests and gold buttons, and eagle feathers in +their Glengary caps. They were a splendid and picturesque background for +the lovely bride, clothed in white from head to foot and looking like an +angel. McAllister had sent a basket of white heather for bridal +bouquets, and every Highlander there wore a spray of it in his vest or +cap. I had a stem or two at my own breast--and Marion's veil was crowned +with a wreath of the lovely flowers." + +"After the marriage, where did they go?" + +"First of all, they came here, to my house--and we had a bridal +breakfast that none will forget. Lord Glasgow toasted the bride, and the +Provost of the City made answer for her. His speech was well enough, but +a little o'er long--considering the occasion." + +"And then?" + +"They went to all the capital cities of Europe. It was a wonderful +honeymoon trip. They might have been royalties themselves, they were +that nobly entertained. Well, well! Marion Macrae was a bonnie bride, +and she is far bonnier and better now than she was then--the best of +mothers, the best of wives, a noble woman every way. She has a son +called 'Ian,' after you, and two little girls who wear the names of +Agnes and Jessy--you know----" + +"Yes--I know. How could I ever forget?" + +"And there is poor Donald. You are not to slight Donald. You will write +to him, Ian?" + +"I will _go_ to him. I can never be quite satisfied until I have seen +Donald. I was cruel and selfish then, but I loved him. I love him now +better than ever. He sits in the center of my heart. I must go as soon +as may be to California." + +"You are right. We will buy our land and make our estimates, and set the +men to work. Then you can go and kiss your banished son." + +"I am afraid I cannot bring him home again." + +"Would you think of suchlike foolishness? God gave him his wife and his +portion out there. But I will tell you what you can do--you can bring +home Mrs. Caird. In her last letter to Marion she said she was weary of +golden oranges and perpetual sunshine; and she hoped God would let her +come hame to her ain countrie before she died. She was fairly sick for +the gray skies and green braes of Scotland, and, as for the rain, it was +only gloom upon gleam, and gleam upon gloom--very comfortable weather +upon the whole. I was sorry for the pleasant little woman. You can bring +her back. See that you do so. For I am counting on you living with me, +Ian. Why should we part? I am growing old, and need your love and +company; and I want to be your right hand in the Godlike work before +you." + +"My dear Uncle, you shall have all your will. I desire nothing better +than to share your love and your home, and have your constant counsel +and help." + +"Then bring back Mrs. Caird. She will send away all the wasteful, lazy, +dirty men bodies round the house, and hire in their place tidy, busy +young lasses. Then, Ian, I can have a dream of a home for my old age. No +matter what her 'will and want,' give her everything she asks--only +bring her back." + +"I will do so, Uncle--if possible." + +"Possible or not--bring her back." + +There was no pause in their conversation until the long summer twilight +filled the quiet square. Then they suddenly remembered Doctor James +Lindsey and the London duties that might be hard to relinquish, and thus +delay the work which they so eagerly willed to do. So Ian spent the +evening in writing to his friend, while the Major lost himself the while +in financial calculations about the great project. + +Ian had not one doubt of his friend's sympathy. "I know James Lindsey, +Uncle," he said with an air of happy confidence; "he will count God's +claim long before his own. And he will see at once that I have been +unconsciously preparing myself for the great work we are planning for +eleven years; and, though I have been led by a way I knew not, every +step has been taken right." + +Then the Major looked into his happy face and said solemnly: "Ian, if +you _saw_ the love of God shining on that father's face in the awful +pit, I see it just as plainly on your countenance. It has absolutely +changed it. Your voice is also different, and your words go singing +through my soul. You are a new man. You are a happy man, and I used to +think that, of all men, you were the most miserable." + +"Uncle, I might well be miserable. The phantoms that peopled +my nights must have destroyed life if God had not forbidden +it--remorse that came too late--cries uttered to inexorable +silence--doubt--anguish--prostration worse than death. I was afraid to +look back, equally afraid to look forward; and then last night changed +all in the twinkling of an eye. I fell at the feet of the Father of +Spirits with a joy past utterance. Troubles of all kinds grew lighter +than a grasshopper. I had a rest unspeakable until rapture followed +rest, and I cried out, 'Whom have I in heaven but Thee? and there is +none upon earth that I desire beside Thee!'" Then the two men +involuntarily clasped hands. They had no words fit for that moment. +Words would have been a hindrance, not a help. + +The next morning Ian was crossing Exchange Place when he saw a man +approaching who gave him a thrill of recollection. He hesitated for a +moment, and then went quickly forward. His hand was outstretched and his +face smiling. + +"Richard!" he cried. "I am glad to see you. I am glad to have this +opportunity of saying I did you wrong. I was very unkind both to you and +to Marion. I am sincerely sorry for the past, will you forgive it now?" + +And Lord Cramer clasped the hand offered and answered with hearty +gladness: "I cannot forgive it now, sir. I forgave it many years ago. +Marion stands between us. We are the best of friends." Then they walked +together cheerfully to a hotel and ordered a good lunch, for both +English and Scotchmen cannot celebrate any event--whether it concern the +heart or the purse--without offering a meat and drink sacrifice for the +occasion. During the meal Ian sent loving words to Marion, and promised +to be with her on the following day, and thus love and good-will took +the place forever of wronged and slighted affection. Then he saw his +eldest grandchild, a beautiful boy of ten years old, Ian, the future +Lord of Cramer, and his heart went out to the lovable child, as it did +also to the bright, seven-year-old Agnes and the pretty baby, Jessy. +Three days he spent at Cramer Hall, and saw all the improvements made +there--the additions to the Hall, the fine condition of the park and +gardens, and the famous and highly profitable oyster beds. So his heart +was filled with that mortal love for which it had been aching and +perishing. + +When he returned to Glasgow he found Dr. Lindsey with his uncle. He had +come in answer to Ian's letter, and he was enthusiastic concerning all +Ian's intentions and eager to assist in realizing them. "You know, Ian," +he said, "we were preparing for a long holiday together when you started +for Furness and Ambleside. This is 'the long journey' for which we were +unconsciously preparing. I called at the little mining village as I came +here----" + +"And that father and his boy?" interrupted the Major. + +"They died together in the pit. They were laid in one wide grave, and +rich and poor, from far and near, came to honor that perfect image of +the Divine love. I called on his widow. She was still weeping for 'her +man and her lile lad.' He was her first-born, but she has four other +children, the youngest a few weeks old. She is very poor. Her neighbors +are feeding her." + +"But that must stop," cried Ian. "It is my duty and my pleasure. How can +I ever pay the debt? I will see to it at once. It is a sin that I have +not already done so." + +"You are right, Ian," answered the Doctor; "and we may recall now how +wonderfully you have been led, and realize that there is a kind of +predestination in our life. It was necessary for you to spend ten years +in the House of Pain and Suffering and Death; necessary for you to know +how to cure the sick and to heal the wounded, in order to prepare you to +receive the sacred mystery in that horrible pit, and make you fit for +the work you have yet to do. Do you remember how impossible we found it, +night after night, to satisfy ourselves as to the course and country our +holiday should take? And all the time the journey was being arranged for +us. Surely the steps of a good man are ordered of the Lord." + +"'_Steps_,'" said the Major. "We may be glad of that word, for it is +easy for a man to take just one step to ruin or to death." + +The journey to America being determined, Dr. Lindsey went back to London +to prepare his business for an absence of three months. Ian was glad of +his companionship, and promised to meet him in Liverpool on the 25th of +July. There they would take together passage for New York. This plan was +fully carried out, but of the voyage, the journeyings and their life in +California there is no necessity to write. Possibly most of my readers +have crossed the Atlantic, and know far more about California than I do; +so that I may well leave any descriptions to their memories or +imaginations. It is the humanity of my story with which we have to do. + +They had been eagerly looked for at Los Angeles, and were welcomed with +unbounded love and respect. Donald and his father drew aside for a +moment, but what they said to each other only God knows. There is a +divine silence in forgiveness. When Peter first met Christ, after his +denial of Him, what did Peter say? What did Christ say? We are not told; +but great wrongs can be wiped out in one tender word, though such acts +in the drama of life are not translatable. It was different with +Macbeth. He greeted his guests with a proud and delightful extravagance. + +"You are welcome, '_Men of St. Andrews!_'" he cried; "you are tenfold +welcome!" And for the next five weeks he gave himself to entertaining +them in every possible way. The pretty Spanish wife was shy and +reticent, but her three sons spoke for her, and Donald was evidently the +idol of his house and in all his surroundings prosperous and happy. + +Jessy Caird, however, had failed and faded physically more than she +ought to have done, so Ian was not slow to take the first opportunity of +speaking confidentially to her. She was sitting just within the open +door of her bungalow. Her eyes were closed, her work had fallen from her +hands, and there was no book of any kind within her reach. Ian wondered +at these things. Jessy doing nothing! Jessy without a book! What could +be the meaning of it? + +She opened her eyes as she heard his approach, and said with a smile, +"You are walking like your old self, Ian, but for all that sit down by +me." + +"That is what I am here for. I want to talk with you, and with you only. +My dear sister, you look sick--or very unhappy. Which is it?" + +"Ian, I am both sick and unhappy. In the first place, I am heartbroken +for my native land. I want to see once more the green, green straths of +Scotland--the green straths with a haze of bluebells over them! I want +the gray, soft skies and the little silvery showers that blessed both +humanity and nature with constant freshness. And O Ian, I want, I want, +I want the living tongue of running water! Do you mind that, in all the +summers we spent in Arran, we could not go anywhere on the island and +lose the happy sound of running water? Do you mind how the waters leaped +from rock to rock, and thundered down the craggy glens, and then went +singing and gurgling along the roadside? Ian, Ian, take me home! I want +to die in my own country!" + +"_Die!_ Nonsense, Jessy! You must live for others even if you want to +die. I need you. You must go back to Scotland and help me. I have told +you of the great work my uncle and I are planning. We cannot do without +you." + +Her face brightened, there was a smile in her eyes, and she looked +eagerly at Ian as he continued: + +"It would make you heartsick to see that fine house in the Square going +to destruction. The Major's heart and head are in the building of the +church, and the servant men are neglecting everything beneath their +hands." + +"It serves him right. The Major was set on having only servant men. +Three or four tidy women would have----" + +"To be sure. We shall soon get rid of the men when you and I get home." + +"What are you meaning, Ian? Speak straight." + +"I am going to live with my uncle. He is an old man and needs me." + +"Stuff and nonsense! He will never need either you or anybody else. You +may need him." + +"I need him now, Jessy. He is mainly building the church. His heart and +soul are in it. He has given up practically his large business." + +"Given up his business! What does the man mean?" + +"He is only retaining the charge of three estates until the heirs come +of age. He promised to do that, and does not feel it right to break a +promise made to the dead." + +"Well, then, a man may live decently from three estates." + +"Jessy, we have laid out together such a great and good work, but +without your help we cannot carry it forward. We must have some good +woman to look after our food and our home. We are counting on you, and +you must stand by us." + +"I will go with you gladly. I will soon put a stop to the wastrie and +pilfering going on in the Major's house; and I will take good care of +you two feckless, helpless men--but I am your sister, Ian; I must look +to my position." + +"You are right. You will be mistress. You will stand at my right hand, +as you always did; and the Major said you were to have 'your will and +want and wish,' whatever it was. Jessy, you are going _home_." + +"How soon, Ian?" + +"Any mail may bring me word to hurry back to Scotland. I feel that I +ought to be there now. Get ready for an early journey." + +In less than two weeks the expected letter, urging Ian's early return, +came; and Ian and Jessy set their faces Scotlandward the next day; but +Dr. Lindsey resolved to stay another month and see more of a country so +wonderfully fresh and interesting. Jessy went away very quietly, and it +struck Ian she was glad when the parting was over; and she acknowledged +that in a certain way she was so. + +"I was that feared I would die there," she said, "and I could not keep +the little Border graveyard out of my thoughts. My kindred for three +hundred years lie there, and I wanted to take my last rest among them." +This feeling would be to an American an unthinkable source of anxiety, +but to the Scotch man or woman it would be a real and potent promoter of +the feeling. For they cherish the memory of their fathers--good or +bad--and there burns alive in them a sense of identity with the dead, +even to the twentieth generation. Ian thoroughly understood Jessy's +worry and respected her for it. + +"You should have written to me, Jessy. A word concerning your fear would +have brought me to you at any time. Why did you think of dying? Were you +not well treated?" + +"I could not have been better treated. I was close to Donald's heart, +the children loved me, and Macbeth wanted me to be his wife." + +"And Mercedes?" + +"Perhaps not so much. She was a wonderfully jealous little woman. She +did not like Donald or the children or her father to be long in my +company. She did her best to conquer the feeling, but how could she with +centuries of Castilian blood in her veins? It was my own fault if I was +not happy, but the longing for Scotland was above all other desires. I +had too little to do. I wanted some work that was _my_ work. No one can +be content without it." + +"The children are fine boys." + +"Yes--do you remember the morning you would not hear of their father +going either to the army or navy? You said he was the only Macrae to +keep up the name of the family, and forthwith sent him to a desk in +Reid's shipping office. You have four grandsons now, three of them +Macraes. You see God knew, if you could only have trusted Him. What is +the Major's worry now?" + +"He has a hankering after a pulpit. I do not want one." + +"But will your creed be respectable without a pulpit?" + +"I have no creed." + +"Ian!" + +"Except the commandment that we love God and do unto others as we would +like them to do unto us. Love is the fulfilling of the whole law. If +this creed does not satisfy you, Jessy----" + +"Oh, you know, Ian, I can abandon my creed at any time, but I shall +carry my prejudices into eternity." + +Thus discussing, in Jessy's various moods, their old religious +differences, they came finally to the end of their journey, and found +the Major waiting to receive them at the Buchanan Street railway +station. He had ordered a feast to honor their arrival, and the men who +prepared it--not knowing for whom it was prepared--cooked it badly and +served it in slovenly fashion. The next morning they all went away +forever, and three clever, active girls reigned in their stead. Then +Jessy, the happy-tempered bringer of the best out of the worst, was +satisfied; and the Major knew he would have a home to live in, and Ian, +always fastidiously fond of order and quiet, was sure his domestic life +would fill every necessity of his public work. + +This work was progressing in spite of various delays, and at the end of +the following year the beautiful building was fully ready for use. It +was filled as soon as opened. Doubtless, curiosity had something to do +with the crowded services; yet Ian was already much beloved among all +classes and conditions of men and women, for the love of God, which +filled and influenced his whole life, attracted to him the love of all +who met him. Many remembered him as a haughty cleric, full of learning, +and not very approachable, even to his own congregation. But this new +Ian was always smiling and kindly, ready to cure the wounded and heal +the sick and to give with love and sympathy all the consolations that +flow from the reality of heavenly things. + +The opening of the new church was a great day in Glasgow. There was not +even standing room for one more worshiper, and when Ian saw a large +contingent from the old Church of the Disciples present he was very +happy. And as he looked at them his face shone with love and they saw it +as the face of a Man of God. Tender and inspiring was the sermon he +preached that day, and one sentence in it went--no one knew how--the +length and breadth of Scotland. Yea, before it had been spoken half an +hour there came to him testimony that it had begun its mission. For, as +he was walking leisurely down Sanchiehall Street, Bailie Muir, an old +class-mate at St. Andrews, joined him. + +"O man! man!" he cried in an exultant voice, "I bless you for some words +you said to-day! I have been longing to hear them, though I knew not +until this morning what I wanted." + +"And you know now, Bailie?" + +"Yes. You said that we came here to _work out_ our salvation with fear +and trembling. Listen! You said, '_Immortality is an achievement!_ It is +not a favor, not a gift, not a selection, not a chance; it is something +we must work for--something we must win. _Immortality is an +achievement!_' Are these words true?" + +"They are faithful and true words. Come home with me and we will talk +them over." + +Thus out of the old paths and into the brighter new ones this great +heart led his people. By day or night he knew no weariness in +well-doing. His loving kindness was a constant over-flowing of self on +others--a heavenly thing, springing from the soul just at that point +where the divine image is nearest and clearest. + +Do you ask if he is preaching to-day? It is not impossible. Yet my +feeling is that by the full employment of a holy life he arrived some +years ago at maturity for death. Such a man could not linger too long on +the Border Land. Christ himself would speak the _compelle intrare_, +"Enter! Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!" + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Playing With Fire, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 36538.txt or 36538.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/5/3/36538/ + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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