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diff --git a/old/51971-h/51971-h.htm b/old/51971-h/51971-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 2e0384b..0000000 --- a/old/51971-h/51971-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11979 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - The Love That Prevailed, by Frank Frankfort Moore - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's The Love That Prevailed, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Love That Prevailed - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Illustrator: H. B. Matthews - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51971] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOVE THAT PREVAILED *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE LOVE THAT PREVAILED - </h1> - <h2> - By Frank Frankfort Moore - </h2> - <h4> - Author of “The Jessamy Bride,” “I Forbid the Bans,” “The Fatal Gift,” “The - Millionaire,” “Our Fair Daughter,” etc., etc. - </h4> - <h3> - Illustrated By H. B. Matthews - </h3> - <h4> - New York Empire Book Company Publishers - </h4> - <h3> - 1907 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he old church ways - be good enough for me,” said Miller Pendelly as he placed on the table a - capacious jug of cider, laying a friendly left hand on the shoulder of - Jake Pullsford, the carrier, as he bent across the side of the settee with - the high back. - </p> - <p> - “I ne'er could see aught that was helpful to the trade of a smith in such - biases as the Quakers, to name only one of the new-fangled sects,” said - Hal Holmes, the blacksmith, shaking his head seriously. “So I holds with - Miller.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that's the way too many of ye esteems a religion—' Will it put - another crown in my pocket?' says you. If't puts a crown in your - pocket, 'tis a good enough religion; if't puts half-a-crown in your - pocket, 'tis less good; if't puts naught in your pocket, that religion is - good for naught.” - </p> - <p> - The speaker was a middle-aged man with a pair of large eyes which seemed - to vary curiously in colour, sometimes appearing to be as grey as steel, - and again of a curious green that did not suit everybody's taste in eyes. - But for that matter, Jake Pullsford, the carrier, found it impossible to - meet everybody's taste in several other ways. He had a habit of craning - forward his head close to the face of anyone to whom he was speaking, and - this movement had something of an accusing air, about it—occasionally - a menacing air—which was distinctly distasteful to most people, - particularly those who knew that they had good reason to be accused or to - be menaced. - </p> - <p> - “Jake Pullsford goes about the world calling his best friends liars - without the intent to hurt their feelings,” was the criticism passed upon - him by Miller Pendelly. Other critics were not so sure on the subject of - his intent. He had never shown himself to be very careful of the feelings - of his friends. - </p> - <p> - “The religion that puts naught in thy pocket is good for naught—that's - what you be thinking of, Hal Holmes,” he said, thrusting his head close to - the face of the smith. But the smith did not mind. The man that spends - most of his days hammering out and bending iron to his will, usually - thinks good-naturedly of one who uses words and phrases as arguments. - </p> - <p> - “I don't gainsay thee, Jake,” he replied. “If you know what's in my - thought better than I do myself, you be welcome to the knowledge.” - </p> - <p> - “I meant not thee in special, friend,” said Jake. “What I say is that - there are too many in these days that think of religion only for what it - may bring to them in daily life—folk that make a gain of godliness.” - </p> - <p> - “And a right good thing to make a gain of, says I,” remarked the miller - with a confidential wink into the empty mug which he held—it had - been full a moment before. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, you be honest, miller: you allow that I am right and you have courage - enough to praise what the Book condemns,” said Jake. - </p> - <p> - “Look'ee here, friend,” said the miller, in his usual loud voice—the - years that he had spent in his mill had caused him to acquire a voice - whose tone could successfully compete with the creaking and clattering of - the machinery. “Look'ee here, friend Jake, 'twould be easy enough for you - or me that has done moderate well for ourselves in life, to turn up our - eyes in holy horror at the bare thought of others being godly for what - they may gain in daily life, but for myself, I would not think that I was - broaching a false doctrine if I was to say to my son, 'Young man, be godly - and thou 'll find it to bring gain to thee.' What, Jake, would 'ee have a - man make gain out of ungodliness?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that's a poser for him, miller: I've been thinking for that powerful - proposal ever since the converse began,” said a small man who had sat - silently smoking in a high-backed chair. He was one who had the aspect of - unobtrusiveness, and a figure that somehow suggested to strangers an - apologetic intention without the courage ever to put it in force. His name - was Richard Pritchard, and he was by profession a water-finder—a - practitioner with the divining rod, but one whose successes were never - startling. - </p> - <p> - When he had spoken, all the room, to the number of three, turned anxious - eyes upon him, as if they were surprised at his having gone so far and - feared a painful sequel. He seemed to feel that he had justified their - worst forebodings, and hastened to relieve their minds. - </p> - <p> - “I'm all friendly, friends, and Jake in especial,” he said. “Don't forget - that though a man on the spur of the moment, and in the fierce stress of - argyment, may say a bitter hard word or two, there may still be naught in - his bosom's heart but neighbourly friendship, meaning no offence to you, - Jake, that be a travelled man, viewing strange cities quite carelessly, - where plain and simple men would gape and stare.” - </p> - <p> - Jake, the carrier, gave no sign of having heard the other speak. - </p> - <p> - “There's a many o' us in these parts as strong as in other parts, that be - ready and willing to take things as they come,” said he; “to take the - parson's preaching as they take the doctor's pills.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, wi' a wry face,” acquiesced the blacksmith with a readiness that one - could see the carrier thought meant no good. - </p> - <p> - He leant across the table once more until his face was close to the - smith's, and said: - </p> - <p> - “That's where you be wrong, Hal Holmes. You know as well as the most - knowledgable——” - </p> - <p> - “Meaning yourself, Jake?” said the smith drily. - </p> - <p> - “You know well that though you may make a wry face when gulching down the - doctor's pill, ye dursn't so much as show a wrinkle or a crinkle on your - face when Parson Rodney is in his pulpit,” replied the carrier with - emphasis. - </p> - <p> - “'Cause why?” said the miller. “I'll tell ye truly—'tis because the - parson gives us no bitter pills, only——” - </p> - <p> - “That's what I've been leading up to,” cried the carrier triumphantly. - “The parson, like thousands of the rest of his cloth throughout the length - and breadth o' the land, is content to preach pleasant things only, even - as the false prophets of Israel prophesied fair things.” - </p> - <p> - “And why shouldn't he be content to preach pleasant things, friend Jake, - if so be that we be content to hear them? and for myself I would muchly - listen to an hour of pleasant things—ay, rather than half an hour of - unhappy ones.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, miller, what would you say if the doctor, who, when he saw your body - suffering from a canker, gave you a sugar-plum and withheld his knife from - cutting out the plague spot because you were apt to be squeamish at the - sight of bloodletting!” - </p> - <p> - There was an uneasy pause when the carrier had asked this rehearsed - question. He asked it with a triumphant air, and, as if he felt it to be - too large a question to be answered by the miller singlehanded, he, as it - were, swept the whole company by a glance into his interrogation. - </p> - <p> - The water-finder made a motion with his hands as if trying to smooth away - an imaginary roughness in the air. There was a general feeling that the - carrier had triumphed in his argument. He was one of those people who, by - speaking in an air of triumph, succeed in making some people believe that - they have triumphed. The farmer shook his head with the disinterestedness - of an arbitrator. The smith continued looking into the empty mug from - which he had just drunk. The silence lasted several seconds, and every - second of course added to the triumph of the carrier. The man was not, - however, adroit enough to perceive this. He was indiscreet enough to break - the silence. When his eyes had gone round the company they returned to the - miller. - </p> - <p> - “Answer me that question, man!” he cried, and then everyone knew that he - had not triumphed: the last word had not been said. - </p> - <p> - “I'll answer you when you tell me if you wouldn't bear friendly feelings - for a doctor who gives you a sugar plum instead of blooding you when he - finds you reasonable well,” said the miller. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis when a man feels healthiest that he stands most in need of - blooding,” said Jake, not very readily and not very eagerly. “And so it is - in the health of the soul. 'Let him that thinketh he stand take heed lest - he fall.' Friends, is there one among us that can lay his hand on his - heart and say that he believes that our parsons do their duty honestly and - scripturally.” - </p> - <p> - “It took you a deal o' time to lead us up to that point: you'd best ha' - blurted it out at once,” remarked Hal Holmes. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, we all knew that it was a-coming,” said the farmer. “Since Jake - found himself as far away from home as Bristol city, he has never lost a - chance of a dig at the parsons.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't deny that my eyes were opened for the first time at Bristol,” - said Jake. “Bristol was my Damascus, farmer.” - </p> - <p> - The farmer gave a jerk to his head, for the carrier had laid undue - emphasis upon the first syllable of the name. - </p> - <p> - “So bad as that?” he whispered. - </p> - <p> - The blacksmith laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Not so bad, farmer,” he said. “'Tis only our neighbour Jake that compares - himself with St. Paul, the Apostle.” - </p> - <p> - “I heard the profanity. He would ha' done better to abide at home,” said - the farmer severely. - </p> - <p> - The blacksmith laughed again. - </p> - <p> - “There fell, as it were, scales from my eyes when I heard preaching for - the first time—when I heard a parson for the first time,” resumed - the carrier, looking out of a window, and apparently unconscious of any of - the remarks of his friends. “Ay, 'twas for the first time, albeit I had - scarce missed church for a whole Sunday since I were a lad. That was what - struck me most, neighbours—that I could go Sunday after Sunday, in - good black cloth, too, and hear the holy service read, in a sort of way, - and the sacred psalms sung, while the fiddle and the double bass and the - viol made sweet music, and yet have no real and true yearning after the - truth, seems little short of a miracle, doesn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Not when one knows that your heart was hard, Jake—ay, sir, it must - ha' been harder than steel,” said the blacksmith, shaking his head in mock - gravity. - </p> - <p> - “You scoff, smith, you scoff, I know; but you speak the truth - unwittingly,” said the carrier with some sadness. “My heart was like the - nether millstone—your pardon, miller, I meant not to say a word that - would cast a slight upon your calling: 'tis right for your nether - millstone to be hard.” - </p> - <p> - “The harder the better, and no offence, neighbour,” said the miller - generously. - </p> - <p> - “None was meant, sir,” said the carrier. “We were discoursing of my heart—hard—hard. - And I was a reader o' the Book all my life. That's the strange thing; but - I sought not to understand what I read and I got no help from parson—-no, - nor yet from Archdeacon Eaton, that I listened to twice—no, nor the - Dean himself in his own Cathedral at Exeter. With the new light that came - to me, I was able to perceive that their discourse was a vain thing—not - helpful to a simple man who thought something of himself, albeit jangling - with the other tinkling cymbals every Sunday, kneeling (on the knees of my - body) when we called ourselves miserable sinners. Miserable sinners! I - tell ye, friends, I gave no thought to the words. I slurred through the - General Confession at a hand gallop—just the pace that parson gets - into when he warms to his work.” - </p> - <p> - “There's few left of the cloth and none of the laity can pass parson when - he gets warmed to it. To hear him in the Litany is like watching him go - 'cross country when he be mounted on <i>King George</i>, his big roan,” - said the blacksmith reflectively. - </p> - <p> - “There's none rides straightlier,” said the farmer. “And there's no better - or steadier flyer than <i>King George</i>, first foal to my mare <i>Majesty</i>. - When I heard that parson had need of a flyer that was a flyer, after poor - <i>Gossip</i> broke her neck at the Lyn and her master's left arm, I held - back, not being wishful to put myself for'ard, though I knew what I knew, - and knew that parson knew all I knew and maybe more; but he got wind o' - the foal, and then——” - </p> - <p> - “One at a time, farmer—one at a time is fair play between friends,” - said the miller, nodding in the direction of Jake, who had suffered the - interruption very meekly. - </p> - <p> - “Your pardon, friend,” said the farmer. “Only 'twas yourself brought in - the parson's pace. For myself, I think all the better of the cloth that - rides straight to hounds.” - </p> - <p> - “'Miserable sinners,'” said the carrier, picking up the thread which he - had perforce dropped. “I tell ye, neighbours, that there's no need for any - parson, be he a plain Vicar or of high rank such as a Dean—nay, a - consecrated Bishop—no, I'm not going too far, miller—I say in - cool blood and in no ways excited, a consecrated Lord Bishop—I say - that not one of them need travel in discourse all his pulpit life, beyond - that text 'Miserable sinners.' That was his text—the one I heard at - Bristol. 'Miserable sinners.' For the first time in my life I knew what - the words meant. I felt them—I felt them—words of fire—I - tell ye that I felt them burn into me. That was at first—when he - began to preach; a red-hot iron brand stinging me all over, and before he - had done I felt as if all my poor body had been seared over and over again - with red-hot letters that go to the spelling of '<i>miserable sinners</i>' - You mind Joe Warden's trial when we were lads, and how he was branded in - the forehead and right hand before he was sent to the pillory. He uttered - neither cry nor moan when the hot iron burst his skin——” - </p> - <p> - “I smell the smell o' 't in my nose this moment,” said the water-finder - gently. The farmer nodded. - </p> - <p> - “But the look that was on his face when he stood up there a marked man - forever!” cried the original speaker. “It told everyone that had eyes what - the man felt, and that was how I felt, multiplied an hundred fold, when my - preacher had done with me. I felt from the first that he had singled out - me—only me out of all that assembly, and when he had done with me, I - say that I could feel myself feeling as Joe Warden felt, the rebel who - suffered for slandering the King's Majesty.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis no marvel that the man has had most of the church doors banged in's - face, if so be that he makes genteel churchgoers with ordinary failings to - feel so unwholesome,” remarked the smith. - </p> - <p> - “And so you comed away,” said the farmer. “Well, I wouldn't look back on - it as if I was satisfied. If I want that sort o' preaching I'll e'en throw - myself prone on my nine-acre field when the seed's in, and command my man - Job to pass the harrow o'er the pelt o' my poor carcase.” - </p> - <p> - “I've only told you of that part of his sermon that made one feel sore and - raw with hot wounds all over,” said Jake. “That was one part. I told you - not of the hand that poured soothing oil and precious ointment into the - wounds—that came after. And the oil was as holy soothing as what ran - down over Aaron's beard even unto the skirts of his garment, and the - ointment was as precious as Mary Magdalen's of spikenard—in the - alabaster box, whose odour filled the whole house. The whole life of me - became sweetened with the blessed words that fell from his lips. I felt no - longer the sting of the brand of the truth that had made me to tingle all - over. Oh, the dew of Hermon's holy hill was not more soothing than the - words of gracious comfort that came from him. I had a sense of being - healed and made whole. The joy of it! A cup of cold spring water when one - has toiled through a long hot harvest day. Oh, more than that. The falling - of a burden from off my shoulders like the great burden of Christian, the - Pilgrim; and then the joy—the confidence—the surety—I - cannot tell you how I felt—'tis over much for me, neighbours—over - much for me to attempt.” - </p> - <p> - “Say no more, Jake; you have made a good enough trial for such as us,” - said the miller, laying his hand on the carrier's shoulder, and speaking - only after a long pause. The others of the party began to breathe again, - some of them very audibly. - </p> - <p> - The carrier's eyes were shining with an expression his friends had never - before seen them wear. He had been swept away by the force and fervour of - his words, and like one who has been breathing of a rarer atmosphere than - that of the plain, he gasped for several moments, and then there was a sob - in his throat. He went quickly to the door and, letting into the room the - sudden glow of a beautiful Spring sunset, he passed into the open air, - without speaking another word. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>o one in the room - had watched the man except in a furtive way, after he had spoken, although - while he was speaking every eye had been fixed upon him. The sight of the - effect of a great emotion makes some people feel strangely abashed, and - the miller and his friends were among such persons. When the carrier had - gone they remained silent for some time. Each of them seemed to be - thinking his thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “Poor Jake!” said the miller at last. “He was ever the sort of man that - would be like to have a twist, and he hath got one now. He's made us - forget the cider, lads. Blest if the jug has been touched since Jake began - his story! Hal, man, pass the jug to your neighbour.'Tis Jake that should - have swallowed a mouthful before he left: talking is drouthier work than - listening.” - </p> - <p> - The smith passed on the jug of cider without replenishing his own mug; and - then knocked the ashes out of the bowl of his pipe. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know that there's a deal in all this,” he remarked. “What do you - say, miller?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't say nought: I only looks on,” replied the miller cautiously. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that may be,” said the smith. “We all know Jake. He never wronged his - fellow—nay, there's some of us knows that if the worst came to the - worst with us, Jake 'ud be the first to hold out a helping hand, with a - guinea or two in it, as the case may be. Still there may be something in - what he said about being brought to feel himself a miserable sinner.” - </p> - <p> - “He allowed that the preacher on'y kept him in that suspensory way o' - thought for a brief space,” said the miller. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, there's men that be mortal sinners, and for all that their luck is - tremendous and saves 'em from the eye of their fellow-men,” said the - smith. - </p> - <p> - “I feel bound to say this to the credit o' parson,” remarked the - water-finder with deprecatory suavity: “he never makes a simple countryman - feel himself to be a miserable sinner. He is of such a good nature that he - slurs over the General Confession so genteelly that I defy the wickedest - of his churchful to feel in any ways as if parson was dictating the words - to him.” - </p> - <p> - “That shows that parson's heart be in the right place,” nodded the farmer. - “He gives us all to understand at a glance that he reads the words 'cause - they are set down for him in the solemn prayer book, and hopes that - there's none among his hearers who will hold him responsible as a man for - their ungentility.” - </p> - <p> - “True, sir, true; parson's an am'able gentleman, always 'cepting when the - cock he has hatched from the noblest game strain fails him in the first - main,” said the blacksmith. - </p> - <p> - “And who is he that would be different, tell me that?” cried the miller, - who had fought a few cocks in the course of his life. “Ay, we be well - content wi' parson, we be so; but I don't say that if Jake's Bristol - preacher came within earshot I would refuse to listen to him—only - out o' curiosity—only out o' curiosity. But I do wonder much that a - man o' the steadiness o' Jake Pullsford owning himself overcome by a - parson that has no church of his own.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis as humble as allowing a toothache to be cured by a quack at a fair, - when a wholesome Doctor of Physic, like Mr. Corballis, has wrestled, with - it for a whole week,” said the water-finder. - </p> - <p> - “I hope I haven't offended any friend by my homeliness when the talk was - serious,” he added, glancing around, not without apprehension. - </p> - <p> - No one took the trouble to say a word that might place him at his ease. - The farmer took a hasty drink out of his mug, and sighed after. The - blacksmith cut up some tobacco and rolled it between his palms. There was - a long silence in the room. It seemed as if the weakness which Jake, the - carrier, had displayed had saddened the little company. It was pretty - clear that they were all thinking of it. - </p> - <p> - “Hey, neighbours,” cried the miller at last, with a loud attempt to pull - his friends together. “Hey lads, what's amiss? These be doleful dumps that - have fallen on us. A plague on Jake and his quack preacher! Now, if I'm - not better satisfied than ever with parson may I fail to know firsts from - seconds by a sniff of the dust. Come, farmer, tell Hal what answer you - gave to Squire's young lady when she asked you if you made the cows drink - wine wouldn't they milk syllabub? He told me before you looked in, Hal! - Droll, it was surely. You'd never think that the farmer had it in him.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, nay,” said the farmer with a smile that broke up his face into the - semblance of a coloured diagram of the canals in Mars. “Nay, miller, 'twas - on the spur o' the moment. I had no time to think o' some ready reply that - a young miss might think suitable to her station in life coming from a - humble yeoman that has no learning but of tillage.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll swear you'll esteem it neat as a sheep's tongue,” said the miller. - “Come, farmer, out with it, and don't force me to spoil it i' the - telling.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well——” began the farmer, pursing out his lips and - assuming the expression of one who is forced into a position of enviable - prominence. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well, 'twas o' Tuesday last—or was it Monday, miller?” - </p> - <p> - “You told me Monday,” replied the miller. - </p> - <p> - “Did I? Well, if I said Monday I sticks to it whatever may hap; for as ye - know me, friends, I don't go back on my word, even though I be wrong, that - being my way, so to speak, that came natural to me ever since poor father - said to me——” - </p> - <p> - But the revelation as to the terms of his father's discourse which had - produced so lasting an impression upon him, was not to be made at that - time; for before the slow farmer had spoken, the porch door was opened, - and there appeared against the background of the spring green side of the - little valley slope, the figure of a young girl, rather tall, wearing a - cloak by the lined hood of which her pretty face was framed. - </p> - <p> - “Hey,” cried the miller, “this be an improvement. After all we won't need - your story, farmer.” - </p> - <p> - “Your servant, Master Miller—gentlemen, I am your most obedient to - command now as ever,” said the girl, dropping a curtsey first to the - miller, then to his guests. “Oh, Master Hal, black but comely as usual, - and rather more idle than usual. And Farmer Pendelly, too—fresh as a - new-washed cherub on a tombstone. Master Pritchard, with his magic wand up - his sleeve, I doubt not. I didn't know that you was entertaining a party, - miller, or I—I——” - </p> - <p> - “Don't tell us that you would ha' tarried, Nelly; that would be to pay a - bad compliment to my company as well as to me,” said the miller. - </p> - <p> - “I was about to say that I would have hurried, not tarried. Maybe I'll not - tarry even now, in spite of the attractions you hold out, sir.” - </p> - <p> - While she spoke the girl conveyed the impression of making another general - curtsey to the company, though she had merely glanced around at them with - an inclusive smile. She made a pretty pretence of drawing her cloak around - her—she had thrown back the hood immediately after entering the room—and - made a movement towards the door. - </p> - <p> - “Don't you dare to think of fleeing, hussy,” said the miller. “If you was - to flee just now, there's not one of us here that wouldn't hale thee back - by the hair o' the head—and a nobler tow line couldn't be found.” - </p> - <p> - He had put his arms about her and patted her hair, which was the lightest - chestnut in colour, and shining like very fine unspun silk. - </p> - <p> - “Hey, Nelly, where did ye pick up that head of hair, anyway? All your - household be black as night,” he continued. - </p> - <p> - “Where's the puzzle, sir?” said she, without a suggestion of sauciness. “I - favour the night, too, only a moonlight night. My hair is the flash o' - moonlight.” - </p> - <p> - “The lass never was slack in speaking up for herself,” said the - blacksmith. - </p> - <p> - “True, friend Hal; but haven't I ever been moderate? Have I ever gone even - half-way to describe my own charms?” said the girl with a mock seriousness - that set everyone laughing—they roared when she looked at them more - seriously still, as if reproving their levity. - </p> - <p> - “I'll not stay here to be flouted,” she cried with a pout, giving the - miller a pat on the cheek. “Ah, here comes Sue to protect me. Dear Sue, - you come in good time. Tell these gentlemen that I haven't a red hair in - my head, and as for its being good only to make towing lines of——” - </p> - <p> - Here she broke down and fell sobbing into the arms of Susan Pendelly, a - girl of about her own age, who had entered the room by the door that led - to the parlour. For a few moments Susan was puzzled, for Nelly went - through her piece of acting extremely well, but the laughter of the miller - and the smith—the farmer and the water-finder were not quite sure, - so they remained solemn—quickly let her know that Nelly was up to a - prank, so she put her arms about her and pretended to soothe her, calling - the men ill-mannered wretches, and shaking her fist at them. Susan was a - little heavy and homely in her comedy. - </p> - <p> - “Towing line indeed!” she said, looking indignantly over Nelly's bowed - head at the men. “Towing line indeed! Why 'tis the loveliest hair in - Cornwall.” - </p> - <p> - “A towing line,” said her father, laughing. “A towing line that has drawn - more craft in its wake than any twenty-oared galley of a man-o'-war. Oh, - the poor fools that try to get a grip o' that towing line! Let me count - them. First there was Spanish Roderick——” - </p> - <p> - The girl lifted up her head from her friend's shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Spanish Roderigo the first!” she cried. “Oh, miller, I did think that my - reputation was safe in your keeping! Why, sir, there were three after me - long before Roderigo showed his face at the Cove.” - </p> - <p> - “I ask your pardon, madam; I did you an injustice; you began the towing - business when you were twelve——” - </p> - <p> - “Ten, miller—ten, if you love me. You would not accuse a simple girl - of wasting her time.” - </p> - <p> - “Once again, your pardon, miss. I'll make it nine, if so be that you - wish.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no wish in the matter, sir. I'm nought but a simple country wench - with no wish but to be let live in peace.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell us how many lads are dangling after you at the present moment, Nell—dangling - like mackerel on the streamers?” - </p> - <p> - “How could I possibly tell, sir? Do you suppose that my father knows to a - fish how many mackerel are on his cast of streamers at any time? You - should have more sense, miller. The most that I can speak for is the five - that I angled for.” - </p> - <p> - “The impudence of the girl! She allows that she angled for five!” - </p> - <p> - “Miller, you would not have me treat them like trout and whip for them - with a rod and a single hook. Oh, no, sir, that would not be worth the - while. You see, miller, there are so many of them swimming about—and—and—well, - life is brief.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis my belief, Nelly, that there's a hook on every hair of your head and - a foolish lad wriggling on it.” - </p> - <p> - “You compliment my fishing too highly, sir. If I thought that——” - </p> - <p> - “Well, what would happen if you thought that, madam?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well, I believe that I would e'en weave my hair into a reasonable - fishing-net to save time and a diffusion of wriggling. There now, miller, - we have had said the last word between us of this nonsense. I know what I - am, and you know what I am—a healthy, wholesome country wench, that - two or three lads think well of, and as many more think ill of—they - don't get distraught about me on the one hand, and they don't have any - particular enmity of me on the other hand. That's the way with all girls, - even such as are black-browed, and hard-voiced, which no one has yet - accused me of being, and I've walked seven miles from Porthawn within the - two hours to give you my father's message about Rowan's corner, and when - I've given it to you, I have to trudge back with a six-pound bag of your - best seconds to keep us from starvation for a day or two.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll not trudge back before the morning if I have any say in the - matter,” cried the miller's daughter, catching up the other's cloak and - throwing it over one arm. “Come hither, Nelly, and we'll have a chat in - the parlour, like the well-to-do folk that we be; these men can have this - place to themselves till the time comes to lay out supper.” - </p> - <p> - “Supper! what good pixie made you say that word?” cried the other girl. - “If you hadn't said it it would have clean gone from my mind that I - brought with me a stale fish or two that was left over from our dinner on - Sunday week. What a memory I lack, to be sure!” - </p> - <p> - She picked up a rush basket which she had placed on the floor when she was - taking off her cloak, and handed it to Susan. - </p> - <p> - “You young rapparee!” said the miller. “Did it not cross your foolish pate - that a basket of fish a week old and more is fully capable of betraying - its presence without the need for a laboured memory?” - </p> - <p> - “I know that that basket betrayed its presence to me more than once as it - hung on my arm after the first three mile hither,” said the girl. - </p> - <p> - “As I live'tis a seven-pound pink salmon, and 'twas swimming in the sea at - noon this day,” said Susan when she had opened the basket. - </p> - <p> - “She must ha' heard that we were supping at the mill this eve'n, and that - I was of the company,” said the blacksmith. “Mistress Polwhele, my - respects to you!” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Master Hal, had I known that you were to be of the company, the - salmon would ha' been a fifteen-pounder at least—that is if I wanted - any of the others to have a mouthful,” laughed the girl. - </p> - <p> - She was out of the room before the blacksmith had ceased rattling his - chair in his pretence of rising to carry out the menace he made with his - fist when she was speaking. - </p> - <p> - The miller and his guests watched in silence the door through which she - had gone. - </p> - <p> - “A bit of a change from Jake Pullsford, eh, friends!” remarked Hal. - </p> - <p> - “That's what we needed sorely,” said the miller. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ife did not seem - to be strenuous in the valley of the Lana, seven miles from the fishing - village of Porthawn, and thirty from Falmouth, when the eighteenth century - still wanted more than ten years of completing its first half. To be sure, - the high road to Plymouth was not so very far away, and coaches with - passengers and luggage flew daily across the little bridge of the Lana at - the rate sometimes of as much as nine miles an hour; and the consciousness - of this made the people of the village of Ruthallion think rather well of - themselves—so at least the dwellers in the more remote parts of the - region were accustomed to affirm. The generous were ready to allow that - the most humble-minded of people would think well of themselves if they - were so favourably situated in regard to the great world as to be able to - get news from London only a few days old, simply by waiting at the turn of - the Plymouth road until a coach came up. - </p> - <p> - But of this privilege the people of that most scattered of all Cornish - villages, Ruthallion, did not avail themselves to any marked extent, - except upon occasions of great national importance; such as the - achievement of a victory by King George's army in the Low Countries, or by - the King's ships in the West Indies. In the latter case the news usually - came from the Plymouth side of the high road. For the sober discussion of - such news in all its bearings, it was understood that the Lana Mill, - situated as it was in the valley within a few hundred yards of the - village, and having a little causeway off the Porthawn road all to itself, - occupied a most favourable position. There was no inn with a well-lighted - bar-parlour within four miles of the place, and the miller was hospitable. - He was said to be the inheritor of an important secret in regard to the - making of cider, and it was no secret that his autumnal brew had a flavour - that was unsurpassed by any cider produced in Cornwall, or (as some people - said) in the very apple-core of Devonshire itself. - </p> - <p> - Miller Pendelly was known to be a warm man in more senses than one. He had - not only a considerable amount of property apart from the mill, which the - unfailing waters of the Lana fed; he was a warm-hearted man, though one of - the most discreet that could be imagined. When it was a charity to give, - he gave freely, but he showed himself to be well aware of the fact that - sometimes charity consists in withholding one's hand. He was not a man - that could be easily imposed upon; though, like all shrewd people, he - allowed three or four ne'er-do-wells to borrow from him—<i>once</i>. - He talked of every such case with great bitterness on his tongue, but with - a twinkle in his eye that assured his confidants that he knew what he was - about. To rid the neighbourhood of an idle youth who was robbing an - easy-going father, was surely worth the disbursement of five guineas; and - the expatriation of a hard-drinking husband was not dear at six. - </p> - <p> - He, himself, was a good husband to a good wife, and the father of a girl, - who, though well favoured, was discreet—a girl who loved her home - and all it contained better than she did any possible lover. - </p> - <p> - The miller's friends were just equal in number to the inhabitants of the - valley and of the villages of Porthawn and Ruthallion. Even the mother of - the worthless youth who had disappeared with the five guineas, and the - wife of the bibulous husband who had not returned after contracting his - loan of six, became, in the course of time, his friends, and almost - forgave him for his exercise of generosity. But among his neighbours there - were none whom he met on such friendly terms as those to whom he turned - with a side-nod of his head when the girls had gone. - </p> - <p> - “They may spare their breath who would tell me that the ill-favoured ones - are the best daughters,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “I'll not be the first to advance that doctrine to the father of Susan - Pendelly,” said the blacksmith. - </p> - <p> - The miller laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Sue was not in my thought,” he cried—“at least not when I spoke, - though thinking of her now only makes me stronger in my opinion.'Twas the - sight of t'other lass. Merry she be and with a sharp enough tongue, but - was there ever a better daughter than Nelly Polwhele, tell me that, Hal?” - </p> - <p> - “A fine salmon fish it be surely,” said the blacksmith. “Seven pounds, - I'll wager, if 'tis an ounce.” - </p> - <p> - “Out upon thee for a curmudgeon,” shouted the miller, giving the - blacksmith a push of a vehemence so friendly that he with difficulty - retained his place on the settee. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis a mortal pity that so spirited a mare foal will be tamed sooner or - later—that's the way with all female flesh whether well-favoured or - black-a-vised,” remarked the farmer.. - </p> - <p> - Richard Pritchard, who was the only single man present, shook his head - with as great a show of gravity as if he had spent his life taming - spirited things. - </p> - <p> - His arrogance aroused his host. - </p> - <p> - “And what are you that gives yourself airs, my man?” he cried. “What call - has a worm of a bachelor to let his tongue wag on a matter that might well - make owdacious fathers o' families keep dead silence? Richard Pritchard, - my good man, this talk is not for such as thee. Thou beest a middling - silent man by nature, Dick, and for that thou shouldst be thankful when - wild words be flying abroad on household matters.” - </p> - <p> - “I allow that I went too far, neighbour, though I call all to witness that - I did not open my mouth to speak,” said the water-finder, with great - humility. - </p> - <p> - “You are aye over daring, though never all through immoral, Dick,” said - the blacksmith gravely. - </p> - <p> - “I allow that I earned reproof, friend,” said Richard.' “We all be human, - and many have frail thought of high language, and a proud heart at the - hope of wisdom and ancient learning. But I take reproof with no - ill-feeling.” - </p> - <p> - The miller roared at the success of his jest. - </p> - <p> - “Richard Pritchard, if I didn't know you for a brave Welshman, I would - take you for a Dorset dairyman that's so used to the touch o' butter they - say it wouldn't melt in their mouths,” he cried when he found breath. - </p> - <p> - At this point Mistress Pendelly bustled into the room, which was not the - kitchen, but only a sort of business-room of the mill, with the message - that supper would not be ready so soon as she could wish; the salmon - steaks took their own time to cook, she affirmed, and expressed the hope - that her friends would be able to hold out for another half hour. - </p> - <p> - “Make no excuses, mother,” said her husband. “Why, good wife, the very - sound of the frizzling will keep us alive in hope, and the smell that - creeps through the crevices of the kitchen door is nigh as satisfying as a - full meal in itself.” - </p> - <p> - “Speak for yourself if you are so minded, miller,” cried Hal Holmes. “Sup - off the sound of a frizzle mixed with the sniff of a well-greased pan, if - you so please, but give me a flake or two o' salmon flesh, good mother, - the pink o' the body just showing through the silver o' the scales. Oh, a - lady born is your sea salmon with her pink complexion shining among the - folds o' her silver lace!” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, sir, better than that your praise should be, for the fish's beauty is - more than skin deep,” said the housewife, as she stood with the kitchen - door half open. - </p> - <p> - The miller winked at his friends when she had disappeared. - </p> - <p> - “Canst better that, Hal?” he enquired. - </p> - <p> - “Vanity to try,” replied the blacksmith. “A man's good enough maybe for - the catching o' a salmon, but it needs a woman's deft fingers to cook it. - You see through my proverb, miller?” - </p> - <p> - “It needs no spying glass, Hal,” said the miller. “The interpretation - thereof is in purpose that it needs a woman's nimble wit to put a - finishing touch to a simple man's discourse, howsoever well meant it may - be. Eh, farmer?” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis different wi' pilchards, as is only natural, seeing what sort of - eating they be,” said the farmer shrewdly; he found that he had been - wittier than he had any notion of being, and he added his loudest chuckles - (when he had recovered from his surprise) to the roaring of the miller's - laughter. - </p> - <p> - It was Nelly Polwhele who demanded to be let into the secret of the - merriment so soon as she had returned to the room with Susan, and when the - miller told her, with an illuminating wink and a shrewd nod, she laughed - in so musical a note with her hands uplifted that the farmer pursed out - his lips in pride at his own wit. He was not without a hope that he might - find out, in the course of the evening, wherein the point of it lay. - </p> - <p> - Meantime Nelly was looking anxiously around the room. - </p> - <p> - “What's gone wrong wi' the girl?” said the miller. “Oh, I see how things - be: 'tis so long since she was here the place seems strange to her. Is't - not so, Nelly?” - </p> - <p> - “Partly, sir,” replied the girl. “But mainly I was looking to see where - Mr. Pullsford was hiding. You can't be supping in good style and he - absent.” - </p> - <p> - “Give no heed to Mr. Pullsford, whether he be here or not; spend your time - in telling us where you yourself have been hiding for the past month,” - cried the miller. - </p> - <p> - “She has not been hiding, she has been doing just the opposite—displaying - herself to the fashionable world,” said Susan. - </p> - <p> - “Hey, what's all this?” said the miller. “You don't mean to tell us that - you've been as far as Plymouth?” - </p> - <p> - “Plymouth, indeed! Prithee, where's the rank and fashion at Plymouth, - sir?” cried Nelly. “Nay, sir, 'tis to the Bath I have been, as befits one - in my station in life.” - </p> - <p> - “The Bath?—never,” exclaimed the miller, while the girl, lifting up - her dress with a dainty finger and thumb to the extent of an inch or two, - went mincing past him down the room, followed by the eyes of the - blacksmith and the others of the party. “'Tis in jest you speak, you young - baggage—how would such as you ever get as far as the Bath?” - </p> - <p> - “It sounds like a fancy freak, doth it not truly; and yet 'tis the sober - truth,” said Nelly. “At the Bath I was, and there I kept for a full month, - in the very centre core of all the grandest that the world has in store. I - didn't find myself a bit out of place, I protest.” - </p> - <p> - “Hear the girl!” exclaimed the miller. “She talks with the cold assurance - of a lady of quality—not that I ever did meet with one to know; but—and - the fun of it is that she wouldn't be out of place in the most extravagant - company. Come, then, tell us how it came about. Who was it kidnapped - thee?” - </p> - <p> - And then the girl told how it was that Squire Trelawny's young ladies at - Court Royal, having lost their maid, owing to her marrying in haste, asked - her to take the young woman's place for a month or two until they should - get suited. As she had always been a favourite with them, she had - consented, and they had forthwith set out for the Bath with the Squire's - retinue of chariots and horsemen, and there they had sojourned for a - month. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis, indeed, like a story o' pixies and their magic and the like,” said - the miller. “I knew that the young ladies and you was ever on the best o' - terms, but who could tell that it would come to such as this? And I'll - wager my life that within a day and a night you could tire their hair and - dust it wi' powder with the best of their ladyships' ladies. And, prithee, - what saw you at the Bath besides the flunkies o' the quality?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir, ask me not to relate to you all that I saw and noted,” said the - girl. “Every day of my life I said, 'What a place the world is to be - sure!'” - </p> - <p> - “And so it be,” said the farmer approvingly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the rank and fashion, farmer, such as would astonish even you, and - you are a travelled man,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, I have been as wide afield as Falmouth on the west and Weymouth on - the east,” said the farmer. “Ay, I know the world.” - </p> - <p> - “Your travels have ever been the talk of the six parishes, sir,” said the - girl. “But among all the strange people that have come-under your eyes, - I'll warrant you there was none stranger than you might find at the Bath. - Have you ever in your travels crossed ladies sitting upright in stumpy - sentry boxes with a stout fellow bearing it along the streets, winging - 'twixt the pair o' poles?” - </p> - <p> - “Naught so curious truly; but I've seen honest and honourable men that had - heard of such like,” said the farmer. - </p> - <p> - “And to think that I saw them with these eyes, and link boys, when there - was no moon, and concerts of music in the Cave of Harmony, night by night, - and two gentlemen fighting in a field—this was by chance, and my - lady passing in a chariot sent forth a shriek, so that one pistol exploded - before its time, and the bullet graded a peaceful gentleman, who they said - was a doctor of physic coming quick across the meadow, scenting a fee!” - </p> - <p> - “Pity is 'twasn't a lawyer. I hoard the thought that in case o' a fight - 'twixt friends, the lawyers hurry up as well as the doctors in hope of a - job,” said the miller. “Well, you've seen the world a deal for one so - young, Nelly,” he added. - </p> - <p> - “And the concerts of singing and the assemblies and the beautiful polite - dance which they call the minuet were as nought when placed alongside the - plays in the playhouse,” cried Nelly. - </p> - <p> - The miller became grave. - </p> - <p> - “There be some who see a wicked evil in going to the playhouse,” he - remarked, with a more casual air than was easy to him. - </p> - <p> - “That I have heard,” said the girl. - </p> - <p> - “They say that a part o' the playhouse is called the pit,” suggested the - farmer. “Ay, I saw the name over the door at Plymouth, as it maybe did - you, miller.” - </p> - <p> - “And some jumped at the notion that that pit led to another of a - bottomless sort?” said the girl. “Well, I don't say that'twas the - remembrance of that only that drew me to the playhouse. I did get - something of a shock, I allow, when my young ladies bade me attend them to - the playhouse one night, but while I sought a fair excuse for 'biding at - our lodging on the Mall, I found myself inventing excuses for obeying my - orders, and I must say that I found it a good deal easier doing this than - t'other.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, ay, I doubt not that—oh, no, we doubt it not,” cried the - miller, shaking his head. - </p> - <p> - Richard Pritchard shook his head also. - </p> - <p> - “I found myself saying, 'How can the playhouse be a place of evil when my - good young ladies, who are all that is virtuous, find it a pleasure to - go?'” - </p> - <p> - The miller shook his head more doubtfully than before. - </p> - <p> - “I think that you left the service of your young ladies in good time,” - muttered the miller. - </p> - <p> - “Do not dare to say a word against them—against even Mistress Alice, - who, I allow, hath a tantrum now and again, when the seamstress fails her - in time or mode,” said the girl. “Of course when I reflected that I was - but a servant, so to speak, and that my duty was to obey my mistresses, I - would hesitate no longer. Duty is a virtue, sir, so I submitted without a - complaint.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, you would do that,” murmured the blacksmith. - </p> - <p> - “I said to myself——” - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” groaned the miller. - </p> - <p> - Nelly ignored the groan. She went on demurely from where she was - interrupted. - </p> - <p> - “I said to myself, 'Should there be evil in it none can hold me - blameworthy, since I was only obeying the order of them that were set over - me.' I went and I was glad that I went, for I saw no evil in word or act.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm grieved to hear it, Nelly,” said the miller. - </p> - <p> - “What, you are grieved to hear that I saw nothing of evil? Oh, sir!” - </p> - <p> - “I mean that I don't like to think of a girl like thee in such a place, - Nelly. But let's make the best of a bad matter and recount to us what you - saw. It may be that by good fortune we may be able to find out the evil of - it, so that you may shun it in future.” - </p> - <p> - “Alack, I fear the chance will not come to me in the future,” said Nelly - mournfully. - </p> - <p> - “I trust not. Who was the actor that night, do you mind?” asked the - miller. - </p> - <p> - “Her name was Mistress Woffington, and now I mind that one of my ladies - said that Mr. Long had told her that Mistress Woffington had been to - dinner with the learned provost of Dublin College in Ireland—a - parson and a scholar.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, an Irishman!” was the comment of the miller. - </p> - <p> - “Let the girl be, miller,” said Hal Holmes. “She's making a brave fight in - the way of excusing herself. Go thy gait, Nell; give us a taste of the - quality of this Mistress Woffington.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Hal, she is a beauty—I never thought that the world held such. - The finest ladies of quality at the Bath, though they all copy her in her - mode, are not fit to hold a candle to her. And her clothing and her - modesty withal. They say she does the modest parts best of all.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, I've heard that the likes of her are best in parts that have the - least in common with themselves,” murmured the miller. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, to see her when she vowed that she would be true to her lover albeit - that her ancient father, stamping about with a cudgel and a mighty wig, - had promised her to a foolish fellow in yellow silk and an eyeglass with a - long handle, and a foppish way of snuff-taking and a cambric handkerchief! - La! how the lady made a fool of him under his very nose. This is Mistress - Woffington: 'I protest, Sir, that I am but a simple girl, country bred, - that is ready to sink into the earth at the approach of so dangerous a - gentleman as your lordship.' And she make a little face at her true lover, - who is getting very impatient, in blue and silver, at the other side of - the room. 'Stap my vitals, madam,' lisps the jessamy, dangling his cane in - this fashion—you should see them do it on the Mall—” She - picked up a light broom that lay at the side of the hearth and made a very - pretty swagger across the room with her body bent and her elbow raised in - imitation of the exquisite of the period, quite unknown to Cornwall. - “'Egad, my dear, for a country wench you are not without favour. To be - sure, you lack the mode of the <i>haut ton</i>, but that will come to you - in time if you only watch me—that is, to a certain extent. My lady, - the Duchess says, “Charles is inimitable.” Ah, her Grace is a sad - flatterer, 'fore Gad, but she sometimes speaks the truth.' 'What, Sir,' - says the lady, 'do you think that in time I should catch some of your - grand air? I beseech you, Sir, have pity on a poor simple maiden; do not - raise false hopes in her breast.' 'Nay, pretty charmer, I do not dare to - affirm that you will ever quite catch the full style—the air of - breeding, so to speak; but you may still catch——' 'the - smallpox, and faith, I think I would prefer it to him,' says Mrs. - Woffington in a whisper, that all in the playhouse can hear. 'Eh, what's - that?' lisps Mr. Floppington. 'Oh, sir, I was just saying that I fear I am - sickening for the smallpox, which runs in our family as does the gout, - only a deal faster.' 'Eh, what, what! keep away from me, girl, keep away, - I tell you.' He retreats with uplifted hands; she follows him, with her - own clasped, imploring him not to reject her. He waves his cane in front - of her as if she was a bull ready to toss him. They both speak together, - they run round the table, he springs upon the table, she tilts it over—down - he goes crying, 'Murder—murder—stop her—hold her back!' - He is on his feet again, his fine coat torn in half at the back. She - catches at it and one whole side rips off in-her hand. He makes for the - window—finds it too high to jump from—rushes to the door and - down goes the lady's father, who is in the act of entering, with a bump, - and down goes the fop with the half coat in the other direction. The lady - sits drumming with her heels on the floor between them in a shrieking - faint—thus!” - </p> - <p> - She flung herself into a chair and her shrieks sounded shrill above the - laughter of the others. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly the laughter came to an abrupt end, as though it were cut in - twain with a sharp knife. The girl continued for a few seconds shrieking - and rapping her heels on the floor, her head thrown back; then she clearly - became aware of the fact that something unusual had occurred. She looked - up in surprise at the men on the settee, followed the direction of their - eyes, and saw standing at the porch door a man of medium stature, wearing - a long riding cloak and carrying a book in one hand. The doorway framed - him. The dimness of the shadowy eventide made a background for his head, - the candle which Susan had lighted in the room shone upon his face, - revealing the thin, refined features of a man who was no longer young. His - face was sweetness made visible—eyes that looked in brotherly - trustfulness into the eyes of others, and that, consequently, drew trust - from others—illimitable trust. - </p> - <p> - The girl stared at the stranger who had appeared in the doorway with such - suddenness; and she saw what manner of man he was. There was an expression - of mild surprise on his face while he looked at her, the central figure in - the room; but she saw that there was a gentle smile about his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I hope that I am not an intruder upon your gaiety,” said the stranger. “I - knocked twice at the door, and then, hearing the shrieks of distress, I - ventured to enter. I hoped to be of some assistance—shrieks mixed - with laughter—well, I have stopped both.” - </p> - <p> - The miller was on his feet in a moment. - </p> - <p> - “Foolery, sir, girl's foolery all!” he said, going towards the stranger. - “Pray, enter, if you can be persuaded that you are not entering a Bedlam - mad-house.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir,” said the newcomer. “'Twould be foolish to condemn simply - because I do not understand. I am a stranger to this county of England; I - have had no chance of becoming familiar with your pastimes. Dear child, - forgive me if I broke in upon your merriment,” he added, turning to Nelly; - “Good sir,”—he was now facing the miller—“I have ridden close - upon thirty miles to-day—the last four in the want of a shoe; my - horse must have cast it in the quagmire between the low hills. Yours was - the first light that I saw—I was in hopes that it came from a - blacksmith's forge.” - </p> - <p> - The miller laughed. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis better than that, good sir,” said he. “The truth is that the smith - of these parts is a fellow not to be trusted by travellers: his forge is - black tonight, unless his apprentices are better men than he. He is a huge - eater of salmon and divers dainties, and he will drink as much as a mugful - of cider before the night is past.” - </p> - <p> - “But he is a fellow that is ready to sacrifice a cut of salmon and a - gallon of cider to earn a sixpence for a shoe, sir,” said Hal Holmes, - rising from the settee and giving himself a shake. “In short, sir, I be - Holmes, the smith, whose lewd character has been notified to your honour, - and if you trust me with your nag, I'll promise you to fit a shoe on him - within the half-hour.” - </p> - <p> - The stranger looked from the smith to the miller, and back again to the - smith, and his smile broadened. - </p> - <p> - “Good neighbours both, I can see,” he said. “I thank you, smith. How far - is it to Porthawn, pray, and what may this placed be called?” - </p> - <p> - Before he could be answered the door opened and Jake Pullsford entered the - room. The sound of his entrance caused the stranger to turn his head. Jake - gave an exclamation of surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley!” he said in a whisper that had something of awe in its tone. - “Mr. Wesley! How is this possible? I have spent the afternoon talking of - you, sir.” - </p> - <p> - At the sound of the name the miller glanced meaningly at the smith. They - were plainly surprised. - </p> - <p> - “Well, my brother,” said Mr. Wesley, “I ask nothing better than to give - you the chance of talking to me for the next hour. I remember you well. - You are Jake Pullsford, who came to see me a month ago at Bristol. You - have been much in my thoughts—in my prayers.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>ake was so excited - at finding himself by a curious accident once more face to face with the - man who, as he had happily confessed to his friends, had produced so great - an impression upon him as to change the whole course of his life, that he - began to talk to him in his usual rapid way, as though Mr. Wesley and - himself were the only persons in the room. - </p> - <p> - The miller remained on his feet. The blacksmith was also on his feet. He - had assumed a professional air. After all, he was likely to be the most - important person present. The girl in the chair remained with her hands - folded on her lap. She had the aspect of a schoolgirl who has broken out - of bounds and awaits an interview with the schoolmistress. She had heard - during her visit to Bath of this Mr. Wesley and his views—at least - such views as were attributed to him by the fashionable folk who assembled - to have their gossip and intrigue flavoured by the sulphur of the waters. - He was not so easy-going as the clergymen at Bath. She could not doubt - that he would esteem it his duty to lecture her on her levity. It was - known that he abhorred playgoing. He was naturally abhorred by the - players. They had the best of reasons: when he was preaching in any town - that had a theatre, the players remained with empty pockets. - </p> - <p> - The appearance of Mrs. Pendelly announcing that supper was ready was a - great relief to her. - </p> - <p> - She jumped up with alacrity. Jake Pullsford came back to earth. He was - breathing hard. The visitor had signified his intention of resuming his - journey, if his horse could be shod. Jake was entreating him to pass the - night at his house, only a mile up the valley. - </p> - <p> - The miller was beginning to feel awkward. He was hospitably inclined, but - he was not presumptuous. The blacksmith was fast losing his professional - bearing; a sniff of the salmon steaks had come through the open door. - </p> - <p> - It was the visitor whose tact made the situation easy for everyone. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” he said to the miller, “I have arrived here so opportunely for - myself that I will not even go through the pretence of offering to go to - the wayside inn, which our good friend Jake Pullsford tells me is some - miles away. I know that I can throw myself on your hospitality and that - you would feel affronted if I hurried on. I have no mind to do so—to - be more exact, I should say no stomach.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, if your reverence will honour my house I can promise you a wholesome - victual,” said the miller. “Even if you was not a friend o' my friend Jake - here, who might, I think, have named my name in your ear, you would still - be welcome.”. - </p> - <p> - “I know it, sir,” said Wesley, offering the miller his hand. “I thank you - on behalf of myself and my good partner whose bridle I hung over your - ring-post. A feed of oats will put new spirit in him in spite of the loss - of his shoe.” - </p> - <p> - “The horse shall be seen to, Mr. Wesley. Susan, the stable bell,” said the - miller, and his daughter set a bell jangling on the gable wall. - </p> - <p> - “Again my thanks, good friend,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “May I beg your leave to be presented to my fellow-guests at your table, - sir?” - </p> - <p> - He shook hands with the farmer, the water-finder and the smith, saying a - word to each. Then he turned to where the two young women had been. - </p> - <p> - They had fled through the open door, Nelly having been the one to judge of - the exact moment for flight. - </p> - <p> - They appeared at the supper table, however, but not taking their seats - until they had waited upon all the others of the party. That was the - patriarchal custom of the time. Nelly Polwhele only wished that the severe - discipline of a side table for the serving girls had been in force at the - Mill. Remote from the long oak table on which generations of her family - had dined, she might have had a pleasant chat with her friend Susan, and - then steal off, evading the lecture which she felt was impending from the - strict Mr. Wesley. As it was, the most she could do for herself was to - choose an unobtrusive place at the further end from the clergyman. - </p> - <p> - She hoped that the excellence of the salmon which she had carried through - the valley of the Lana would induce him to refrain from asking any - questions in regard to the game that was being played at the moment of his - entrance. - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Wesley was vigilant. He espied her before he had finished his - salmon, and had expressed his thanks to her for having burdened herself - with it. It was his thirst for information of all sorts that had caused - him to enquire how it was possible to have for supper a fish that must - have been swimming in the sea, or at least in a salmon river, which the - Lana was not, a few hours before. Was not Porthawn the nearest fishing - village, and it was six miles away? Then it was that Mrs. Pendelly had - told him of Nelly's journey on foot bearing her father's gift to his - friend the miller. - </p> - <p> - “I should like to have a word or two with you, my dear,” said Mr. Wesley - when he had thanked her. “I wish to learn something of the people of - Porthawn. I am on my way thither to preach, and I like to learn as much as - is possible of the people who, I hope, will hear what I have to say to - them.” - </p> - <p> - Nelly blushed and tried to say that she was afraid she could tell him - nothing that he could not learn from any other source—that was what - was on her mind—but somehow her voice failed her. She murmured - something; became incoherent, and then ate her salmon at a furious rate. - </p> - <p> - The miller, although he had felt bound to offer hospitality to the - stranger who had appeared at his door, knew that his other guests—with - the exception, it might be, of Jake Pullsford—would feel, as he - himself did, that the presence of this austere clergyman would interfere - with their good fellowship at supper and afterwards. He and his associates - knew one another with an intimacy that had been maturing for thirty years, - and the sudden coming of a stranger among them could not but cause a - certain reserve in the natural freedom of their intercourse. - </p> - <p> - The miller had a constant fear that this Mr. Wesley would in the course of - the evening say something bitter about the parsons who hunted and bred - game-cocks and fought them, laying money on their heads—on parsons - who lived away from their parishes, allowing indifferent curates to - conduct the services of the church—of parsons who boasted of being - able to drink the Squires under the table. The miller had no confidence in - his power of keeping silent when he felt that the parson with whom he was - on the easiest of terms and for whose gamecocks he prepared a special - mixture of stiffening grain food was being attacked by a stranger, so he - rather regretted that his duty compelled him to invite Mr. Wesley, of whom - he, in common with thousands of the people of the West country, had heard - a great deal, to supper on this particular evening. - </p> - <p> - But in the course of the meal he began to think that he would have no - reason to put any restraint upon himself. He soon became aware of the fact - that this Reverend John Wesley was not altogether the austere - controversialist which rumour, becoming more and more exaggerated as it - travelled West, made him out to be. Before supper was over he had come to - the conclusion that Parson Rodney as a companion could not hold a candle - to this Mr. Wesley. - </p> - <p> - The compliment in respect of the salmon had pleased both the miller and - his wife, even though it had made Nell blush; and then a bantering word or - two was said to Hal Holmes and his fine taste for salmon, and forthwith - Mr. Wesley was giving an animated account of how he had seen the Indians - in Georgia spearing for salmon on one of the rivers. This power of - bringing a wide scene before one's eyes in a moment by the use of an - illuminating word or two was something quite new to the miller and his - friends; but it was the special gift of his latest guest. With thin - uplifted forefinger—it had the aspect as well as the power of a - wizard's wand—he seemed to draw the whole picture in the air before - the eyes of all at the table—the roar of the rapids whose name with - its Indian inflections was in itself a romance—the steathily moving - red men with their tomahawks and arrows and long spears—the enormous - backwoods—one of them alone half the size of England and Wales—the - strange notes of the bird—whip-poor-will, the settlers called it—moonlight - over all—moonlight that was like a thin white sheet let down from - heaven to cover the earth; and where this silver wonder showed the white - billows of foam churned up by the swirl of the mad river, there was the - gleam of torches—from a distance they looked like the fierce red - eyes of the wild beasts of the backwood; but coming close one could see - deep down at the foot of the rapids the flash of a blood-red scimitar—the - quick reflection in the passionate surface of the water of the red flare - that waved among the rocks. Then there was a sudden splash and a flash—another - scimitar—this time of silver scattering diamonds through the - moonlight—another flash like a thin beam of light—the fish was - transfixed in mid-air by the Indian spear! - </p> - <p> - They saw it all. The scene was brought before their eyes. They sat - breathless around the supper table. And yet the man who had this magic of - voice and eye had never once raised that voice of his—had never once - made a gesture except by the uplifting of his finger. - </p> - <p> - “Fishing—that is fishing!” said Hal Holmes. “I should like——” - </p> - <p> - The finger was upraised in front of him. - </p> - <p> - “You must not so much as think of it, my friend! It would be called - poaching on our rivers here,” said Mr. Wesley with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Then I should like to live in the land where the fish of the rivers, the - deer of the forests, the birds of the air are free, as it was intended - they should be—free to all men who had skill and craft—I have - heard of the trappers,” said Hal. “It seems no sort of life for a - wholesome man to live—pulling the string of a bellows, hammering - iron into shoes, for plough-horses!—no life whatsoever.” Wesley - smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, if you but knew aught of the terror of the backwoods,” said he. “If - you but knew of it—one vast terror—monstrous—incredible. - A terror by day and by night. I was used to stand on one of the hills hard - by our little settlement, and look out upon the woods whose skirts I could - see in the far distance, and think of their immensity and their mystery. - Hundreds of miles you might travel through those trackless forests until - the hundreds grew into thousands—at last you would come upon-the - prairie—hundred and hundreds of miles of savage country—a - mighty ocean rolling on to the foot of the Rocky Mountains! Between the - backwoods-and the mountains roll the Mississippi River—the Ohio, the - Potomac. Would you know what the Mississippi is like? Take the Thames and - the Severn and the Wye and the Tyne and the Humber—let them roll - their combined volume down the one river bed; the result would be no more - than an insignificant tributary of the Mother of Waters—the meaning - of the name Mississippi.” - </p> - <p> - There was more breathlessness. When Hal Holmes broke the silence everyone - was startled—everyone stared at him. - </p> - <p> - “Grand! grand!” he said in a whisper. “And your eyes beheld that wonder of - waters, sir?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Wesley held up both his hands. - </p> - <p> - “I—I—behold it?” he cried. “Why, there is no one in England - whose eyes have looked upon that great river. Had I set out to find it I - should have had to travel for a whole year before reaching it—a - year, even if the forests had opened their arms to receive me, and the - prairie had offered me a path I spoke with an Indian who had seen it, and - I spoke with the widows of two men who had gone in search for it. Four - years had passed without tidings of those men, and then one of the - Iroquois tribe found a tattered hat that had belonged to one of them, on - the borders of the backwoods, not a hundred miles from his starting place. - Of the other nothing has yet been forthcoming. I tell you, friends, that I - was used to let my eyes wander across the plain until they saw that - forest, and they never saw it without forcing me to look upon it as a - vast, monstrous thing—but a living creature—one of those - fabled dragons that were said to lie in wait to devour poor wretches that - drew nigh to it. Nay, when I looked upon it I recalled the very striking - lines in John Milton's fine epic of 'Paradise Lost': - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - 'With head uplift above the wave, and eyes - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Prone on the flood, extended long and large, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Lay floating many a rood,—” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “One must needs be a dweller among the adventurers in America in order to - understand in its fulness how terrible a monster those backwoods are - thought to be. There it stretched, that awful mass—that monstrous - mother of that venomous brood—the huge snakes that lurk in the - undergrowth, the fierce lynx, the terrible panther, the wolf and the - wildcat. I have heard, too, of a certain dragon and the vampire—a - huge bat that fans a poor wretch asleep by the gentle winnowing of its - leather wings only to drain his life's blood. These are but a few of the - brood of the backwoods. Who can name them all? The poisonous plants that - shoot out seeds with the noise of the discharge of a musket, the swamps - made up of the decay of a thousand years—breathing fevers and agues—the - spectre of starvation lurks there unless you have weapons and the skill to - use them—fire—they told me of the prairie fires—a blast - of flame five miles broad—sometimes twenty miles broad—rushing - along driving before it beasts and birds until they drop in sheer - exhaustion and become cinders in a minute—these are some of the - terrors that dwell in the backwoods, but worst of all—most fierce—inexorable, - is the Red Indian. Tongue of man cannot tell the story of their treachery—their - torturings. Our settlers do not fear to face the beasts of the backwoods—the - rattlesnakes—the pestilence of the swamps—the most cruel of - these is more merciful than the Indian.” - </p> - <p> - They listened as children listen to a fairy tale, and they knew that they - were hearing the truth. There was not one of them that had not heard - something of the story of the founding of the settlement along the coast - of the new Continent, from the Bay Colonies and Plymouth Rock in the North - to Carolina in the South. The spirit of adventure which had given Drake - and Raleigh their crews from the men of the West country gave no signs of - dying out among their descendants. They listened and were held in thrall - while this man, who had come among them with something of the reputation - of a pioneer—a man boldly striking out a new track for himself, told - them of the perils faced by their countrymen on the other side of that sea - which almost rolled to their very doors. He carried them away with him. - They breathed with him the perfume of the backwoods and became imbued with - the spirit of mystery pervading them. He carried them away simply because - he himself was carried away. He felt all that he spoke about; this was the - secret of his power. He could not have made them feel strongly unless by - feeling strongly himself. - </p> - <p> - But his aim was not limited to his desire to arouse their interest in the - romance of the backwoods. He spoke of the troubles of the young settlement - to which he had gone out, of the bravery of the settlers, men and women—of - the steadfast hope which animated them in facing their anxieties—their - dangers. What was the power that sustained them? In one word, it was - faith. - </p> - <p> - Without the least suggestion of preaching, he talked to them of Faith. He - talked as if it was not merely a sentiment—a cold doctrine to be - discussed by the aid of logic—nay, but as a real Power—a Power - that could move mountains. Such as had it had the greatest gift that - Heaven offered to mankind. It was a gift that was offered freely—all - could have it, if they so willed; and this being so, how great would be - the condemnation of those who refused to accept it! - </p> - <p> - And the people who had eagerly drunk in all that he had to say of the - mystery of the backwoods were even more interested when he talked of this - other mystery. There had been no dividing line in his subject; the Faith - of which he was now speaking with all the eloquence of simple language - that fell like soft music on their ears, was a natural part—the most - actual part of his story of the great half-known West. - </p> - <p> - They listened to him while he discoursed for that marvellous half-hour, - and the prayer that followed seemed also a part—the suitable closing - part of that story of trial and trouble and danger rendered impotent by - Faith. Surely, when such a gift could be had for the asking, they should - ask for it. He prayed that the hearts of all who were kneeling might be - opened to receive that saving grace of Faith. - </p> - <p> - “Hal, my friend,” said the miller, when they stood together at the - entrance to the lane, having seen Mr. Wesley drive off with Jake. “Hal, - for the first time these sixteen years I have seen thee rise from thy - supper without searching about for thy pipe!” - </p> - <p> - “My pipe? List, old friend, while I tell thee that to pass another such - evening I would break my pipe into a hundred pieces and never draw a whiff - of 'bacca between my teeth,” said Hal. “Moreover, a word in thy ear: I - would not have it made public; I'll smoke no more 'bacca that comes to me - by a back way. I believe that why I didn't smoke this evening was by - reason of the feeling that was in me that 'twould be a solemn sin for me - to let him have even a sniff of 'bacca that had been run.” - </p> - <p> - The miller laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Hal, he did not preach to us to give the Preventive men their due,” - he said. - </p> - <p> - “No, no. If he had I might ha' been the less disposed to do the right - thing. But now—well, no more smuggled 'bacca for me.” - </p> - <p> - “Good:—good—but wherefore this honest resolve, Hal Holmes?” - </p> - <p> - “I know not. Only I seem somehow to look at some things in a new light.” - </p> - <p> - “And that light will not let your tinder be fired over a pipe o' 'bacca - that has paid no duty? That's right enough, but what I need to learn from - you is the reason of all this.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, there you have me, friend. I can give you no reason for it; only the - notion came over me quite sudden like, that for ten year I had been doing - what I should ha' turned from, and I made the resolve now to turn now - before it was too late. That's all, and so, good-night to you, Mat, and - God bless you. I be to get that shoe on before he starts from Jake's house - i' the morn, and he said he would start betimes.” - </p> - <p> - The miller laughed again, but very gently, and held out his hand to the - other without a word. It was not until the blacksmith had disappeared down - the lane that his friend said in a low voice: - </p> - <p> - “It beats me clean. There must be a sort of magic in the man's tongue that - it works those wonders. All the time that he was telling us his story o' - the woods I was making up my mind to be a better man—to have more - charity at heart for my fellows—to be easier on such as cannot pay - all that they have promised to pay. And now here's Hal that confesses to - the same, albeit he has never gone further out of the straight track than - to puff a pipe that has paid nothing to King George's purse. And the man - gave no preacher's admonition to us, but only talked o' the forest and - such-like wild things.... Now, how did he manage to bring Faith into such - a simple discourse?... Oh, 'tis his tongue that has the magic in it! - Magic, I say; for how did it come that when he spoke I found myself gazing - like a child at a picture—a solid, bright picture o' woods and - things?... Oh, 'tis true magic, this—true!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>h, that a man - could speak to men in the language of the Spring!” cried Mr. Wesley, when - his horse stopped unbidden and unchidden and looked over the curved green - roof of the hedge across the broad green pasturage beyond. “Oh, that my - lips could speak that language which every ear can understand and every - heart feel! What shall it profit a man to understand if he does not feel—feel—feel? - The man who understands is the one who holds in his hand the doctor's - prescription. The man who feels is the one who grasps the healing herbs; - and 'tis the Spring that yields these for all to gather who will.” - </p> - <p> - And then, automatically he took his feet out of the stirrups for greater - ease, and his eyes gazed across the meadow-land which sloped gently upward - to the woods where the sunbeams were snared among the endless network of - the boughs, for the season was not advanced far enough to make the foliage - dense; the leaves were still thin and transparent—shavings of - translucent emerald—a shade without being shadowy. - </p> - <p> - Everything that he saw was a symbol to him. He looked straight into the - face of Nature herself and saw in each of its features something of the - Great Message to man with which his own heart was filled to overflowing. - He was a poet whose imagination saw beneath the surface of everything. He - was a physician who could put his finger upon the pulse of Nature and feel - from its faintest flutter the mighty heart which throbbed through the - whole creation. - </p> - <p> - What man was there that failed to understand the message of Nature as he - understood it? He could not believe that any should be so dense as to - misinterpret it. It was not a book written in a strange tongue; it was a - book made up of an infinite number of pictures, full of colour that any - child could appreciate, even though it had never learned to read. There - was the meadow beyond the hedgerow. It was full of herbs, bitter as well - as sweet. Could anyone doubt that these were the symbols of the Truth; - herbs for the healing of the nations, and if some of them were bitter to - the taste, were their curative properties the less on this account? Nay, - everyone knew that the bitterest herbs were oftentimes the most healing. - What a symbol of the Truth! It was not the dulcet truths that were - purifying to the soul of man, but the harsh and unpalatable. - </p> - <p> - “God do so to me and more also if ever I should become an unfaithful - physician and offer to the poor souls of men only those Truths that taste - sweet in their mouths and that smell grateful to their nostrils!” he - cried. - </p> - <p> - And he did not forget himself in the tumult of his thought upon his - message. He was not the physician who looked on himself as standing in no - need of healing. - </p> - <p> - “I have tasted of the bitter medicine myself and know what is its power. - Oh, may I be given grace to welcome it again should my soul stand in need - of it!” - </p> - <p> - A lark rose from the grass of the sloping meadow and began its ecstatic - song as it climbed its ærie ladder upward to the pure blue. He listened to - the quivering notes—a bubbling spring of melody babbling and - wimpling and gurgling and flitting and fluttering as it fell through the - sweet morning air. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, marvel of liquid melody!” cried the man, letting his eyes soar with - the soaring bird. “What is the message that is thine! What is that message - which fills thy heart with joy and sends thee soaring out of the sight of - man, enraptured to the sky? Is it a message from the sons of men that thou - bear-est to the heavens? Is it a message from Heaven that thou sendest - down to earth?” - </p> - <p> - A butterfly fluttered up from beyond the hedge, carrying with it the - delicate scent of unseen primroses. It hovered over the moss of the bank - for a moment and then allowed itself to be blown like a brown leaf in the - breeze in a fantastic course toward the group of harebells that made a - faint blue mist over a yard of meadow. - </p> - <p> - He watched its flight. The butterfly had once been taken as an emblem of - the immortality of the soul, he remembered. Was it right that it should be - thought such a symbol, he wondered. In latter years it was looked on as an - example of all that is fickle and frivolous. Was it possible that the - ancients saw more deeply into the heart of things—more deeply into - the spirit of these forms of Nature? - </p> - <p> - “Who can say what wise purpose of the Creator that gaudy insect may fulfil - in the course of its brief existence?” said he. “We know that nothing had - been made in vain. It may be that it flutters from flower to flower under - no impulse of its own, but guided by the Master of Nature, whose great - design would not be complete without its existence. That which we in our - ignorance regard as an emblem of all that is vain and light may, in truth, - be working out one of the gravest purposes of the All Wise.” - </p> - <p> - He remained under the influence of this train of thought for some time. - Then his horse gave a little start that brought back his rider from the - realm into which he had been borne by his imagination. He caught up the - rein, slipped his feet into his stirrups, and perceived that it was the - fluttering dress of a girl, who had apparently sprung from the primrose - hollow beyond the hedge, that had startled the animal. It seemed that the - girl herself was also startled; she stood a dozen yards away, with her - lips parted, and gave signs of flight a moment before he recognised her as - one of the girls who had been at the Mill the night before—the girl - who had been the central figure in the game which his entrance had - interrupted. - </p> - <p> - “Another butterfly—another butterfly!” he said aloud, raising his - hand to salute Nelly Polwhele, who dropped him a curtsey with a faint - reply to his “Good-morning.” - </p> - <p> - He pushed his horse closer to her, saying: - </p> - <p> - “A fair morning to you, my child! You are not a slug-a-bed. Have you come - for the gathering of mushrooms or primroses? Not the latter; the borders - of the Mill stream must be strewn with them to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “I am on my way to my home, sir,” she replied. “I set out on my return to - the village an hour ago. I should be back in less than another—'tis - scarce four mile onward.” - </p> - <p> - “I remember that you told me you had come from Porthawn—my - destination also. I wished for a chat with you, but somehow we drifted a - long way from Porthawn—we drifted across the Atlantic and got lost - in the backwoods of America.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, no, sir, not lost,” said the girl. - </p> - <p> - “I was a poor guide,” said he. “I have only had a glimpse of the - backwoods, and so could only lead you all a rood or two beyond their - fringes of maple. The true guide is one that hath been on every forest - track and can tell by the tinges on the tree trunk in what direction his - feet tend. What a pity 'tis, my dear, that we cannot be so guided through - this great tangled forest of life that we are travers-. ing now on to the - place of light that is far beyond—a place where there is no darkness—a - shelter but no shadow! There, you see, I begin to preach to the first - person whom I overtake. That is the way of the man who feels laid upon him - the command to preach.” - </p> - <p> - “It does not sound like preaching, sir,” said the girl. “I would not tire - listening to words like that.” - </p> - <p> - “That is how you know preaching from—well, from what is not - preaching: you tire of the one, not of the other?” said he, smiling down - at her. - </p> - <p> - She hung her head. Somehow in the presence of this man all her readiness - of speech—sharpness of reply—seemed to vanish. - </p> - <p> - “I do not say that you have not made a very honest and a very excellent - attempt to convey to me what is the impression of many people,” he - resumed. “But there is a form of preaching of which you can never grow - weary. I have been listening to it since our good friend Hal Holmes helped - me to mount the horse that he had just shod.” - </p> - <p> - “Preaching, sir?” she said. “There are not many preachers hereabouts. - Parson Rodney gives us a good ten minutes on Sunday, but he does not - trouble us on week-days.” - </p> - <p> - “Doth his preaching trouble you on Sunday, child? If so, I think more - highly of your parson than I should be disposed to think, seeing that I - have heard nothing about him save that he is the best judge of a game-cock - in Cornwall. But the sermon that makes a listener feel troubled in spirit - is wholesome. Ah, never mind that. I tell you that I have been listening - to sermons all this lovely morning—the sermon of that eminent - preacher, the sun, to the exhortation of the fields, the homily of the - bursting flowers, the psalm of the soaring lark, the parable of the - butterfly. I was thinking upon the butterfly when you appeared.” - </p> - <p> - “You are different from Parson Rodney, if it please you, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “It does please me, my child; but, indeed, I am sure that there are worse - parsons than those who take part in the homely sports of their parish, - rude though some of these sports may be. I wonder if your ears are open to - the speech—the divine music of such a morn as this.” - </p> - <p> - “I love the morning, sir—the smell of the flowers and the meadows—the - lilt of the birds.” - </p> - <p> - “You have felt that they bring gladness into our life? I knew that your - child's heart would respond to their language—they speak to the - heart of such as you. And for myself, my thought when I found myself - drinking in of all the sweet things in earth and air and sky—drinking - of that overflowing chalice which the morning offered to me—my - thought—my yearning was for such a voice as that which I heard come - from everything about me on this Spring morning. 'Oh, that a man might - speak to men in the language of this morn!' I cried.” - </p> - <p> - There was a long pause. His eyes were looking far away from her. He seemed - to forget that he was addressing anyone. - </p> - <p> - She, however, had not taken her eyes off his face. She saw the light that - came into it while he was speaking, and she was silent. It seemed to her - to speak just then would have been as unseemly as to interrupt at one's - prayers. - </p> - <p> - But in another moment he was looking at her. - </p> - <p> - “You surely are one of the sweet and innocent things of this dewy morn,” - said he. “And surely you live as do they to the glory of God. Surely you - were meant to join in creation's hymn of glory to the Creator!” - </p> - <p> - She bent her head and then shook it. - </p> - <p> - “Nay,” said he, “you will not be the sole creature to remain dumb while - the Creator is revealing Himself in the reanimation of His world after the - dark days of Winter, when the icy finger which touched everything seemed - to be the finger of Death!” - </p> - <p> - His voice had not the inflection of a preacher's. She did not feel as if - he were reading her a homily that needed no answer. - </p> - <p> - But what answer could she make? She was, indeed, so much a part of the - things of Nature that, like them, she could only utter what was in her - heart. And what was in her heart except a consciousness of her own - unworthiness? - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir,” she murmured, “only last night had I for the first time a sense - of what I should be.” - </p> - <p> - His face lit up again when she spoke. His hands clasped, mechanically as - it seemed. - </p> - <p> - “I knew it,” he said in a low voice, turning away his head. “I was assured - of it. When my horse cast his shoe I felt that it was no mischance. I - heard the voice of a little child calling to me through the night. No - doubt crossed my mind. I thank Thee—I thank Thee abundantly, O my - Master!” - </p> - <p> - Then he turned to Nelly, saying: - </p> - <p> - “Child, my child, we are going the same way. Will you give me permission - to walk by your side for the sake of company?” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir, will not you be weary a-walking?” she said. “'Tis a good three - mile to the Port, and the road is rough when we leave the valley.” - </p> - <p> - “Three miles are not much,” said he, dismounting. “The distance will seem - as nothing when we begin to talk.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed that is so, sir,” said she. “Last night fled on wings while you - were telling us the story of the backwoods.” - </p> - <p> - “It fled so fast that I had no time to fulfil my promise to ask you about - your friends at Port-hawn,” said he. “That is why I am glad of the - opportunity offered to me this morning. I am anxious to become acquainted - with all sorts and conditions of people. Now, if I were to meet one of - your neighbours to-day I should start conversation by asking him about - you. But is there any reason why you should not tell me about yourself?” - </p> - <p> - She laughed, as they set out together, Mr. Wesley looping his horse's - bridle over his arm. - </p> - <p> - “There is naught to be told about myself, sir; I am only the daughter of a - fisherman at Porthawn. I am the least important person in the world.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis not safe, my child, to assign relative degrees of importance to - people whom we meet,” said he. “The most seemingly insignificant is very - precious in the sight of the Master. Who can say that the humblest of men - or women may not be called upon some day to fulfil a great purpose? Have - you read history? A very little knowledge of history will be enough to - bear out what I say. When the Master calls He does not restrict Himself to - the important folk; He says to the humblest, 'Follow Me and do My work—the - work for which I have chosen thee.' God forbid that I should look on any - of God's creatures as of no account. What is in my thought just now is - this: How does it come that you, who are, as you have told me, the - daughter of a fisherman in a small village far removed from any large city—how - does it come that you speak as a person of education and some refinement? - Should I be right to assume that all the folk at your village are as you - in speech and bearing?” - </p> - <p> - The little flush of vanity that came to her face when he had put his - question to her lasted but a few seconds. - </p> - <p> - She shook her head. - </p> - <p> - “I have had such advantages—I do not know if you would look on them - as advantages, sir; but the truth is that the Squire's lady and her - daughters, have been kind to me. My father did the Squire a service a long - time ago. His son, Master Anthony, was carried out to sea in his pleasure - boat and there was a great gale. My father was the only man who ventured - forth at the risk of his life to save the young gentleman, and he saved - him. They were two days in the channel in an open boat, and my father was - well-nigh dead himself through exhaustion. But the young squire was - brought back without hurt. The Squire and his lady never forgot that - service. My father was given money to carry out the plans that he had long - cherished of making the port the foremost one for fishing on our coast, - and the ladies had me taught by their own governess, so that I was at the - Court well nigh every day. I know not whether or not it was a real - kindness.” - </p> - <p> - “It was no real kindness if you were thereby made discontented with your - home and your friends.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Mr. Wesley; that is just what came about. I thought myself a deal - better than anyone in the village—nay, than my own father and - mother. I had a scorn of those of my neighbours who were ignorant of books - and music and the working of embroidery, and other things that I learned - with the young ladies. I was unhappy myself, and I knew that I made others - unhappy.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, such things have happened before. But you seemed on good terms with - the miller's family and the others who supped last evening at the Mill. - And did not you walk all the way from your village carrying that heavy - fish for their entertainment?—our entertainment, I may say, for I - was benefited with the others.” - </p> - <p> - The girl turned her head away; she seemed somewhat disturbed in her mind. - She did not reply at once, and it was in a low voice that she said: “A - year ago I—I—was brought to see that—that—I cannot - tell you exactly how it came about, sir; 'tis enough for me to say that - something happened that made me feel I was at heart no different from my - own folk, though I had played the organ at church many times when Mr. - Havlings was sick and though the young ladies made much of me.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Wesley did not smile. He was greatly interested in the story which the - girl had told to him. Had she told him only the first part he would have - been able to supply the sequel out of his own experience and knowledge of - life. Here was this girl, possessing the charms of youth and vivacity, - indiscreetly educated, as people would say, “above her station,” and - without an opportunity of mingling on equal terms with any except her own - people—how should she be otherwise than dissatisfied with her life? - How could she fail to make herself disagreeable to the homely, unambitious - folk with whom she was forced to associate? - </p> - <p> - He had too much delicacy to ask her how it was that she had been brought - to see the mistake that she had made in thinking slightingly of her own - kin who remained in ignorance of the accomplishments which she had - acquired? He had no difficulty in supplying the details which she omitted. - He could see this poor, unhappy girl being so carried away by a sense of - her own superiority to her natural surroundings as to presume upon the - good nature of her patrons, the result being humiliation to herself. - </p> - <p> - “I sympathise with you with all my heart, dear child,” he said. “But the - lesson which you have had is the most important in your education—the - most important in the strengthening of your character, making you see, I - doubt not, that the simple virtues are worthy of being held in far higher - esteem than the mere graces of life. Your father would shake his head over - a boat that was beautifully painted and gilded from stem to stern. Would - he be satisfied, do you think, to go to sea in such a craft on the - strength of its gold leaf? Would he not first satisfy himself that the - painted timbers were made of stout wood? 'Tis not the paint or the gilding - that makes a trustworthy boat, but the timber that is beneath. So it is - not education nor graceful accomplishments that are most valuable to a man - or woman, but integrity, steadfastness of purpose, content These are the - virtues that tend to happiness. Above all, the most highly cultivated man - or woman is he or she that has cultivated simplicity. I thank you for - telling me your story in answer to my enquiry. And now that you have - satisfied my curiosity on this point, it may be that you will go so far as - to let me know why it was that you were filling the room in the Mill with - shrieks last evening when I entered.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>elly Polwhele gave - a little jump when Mr. Wesley had spoken. It had come at last. She had - done her best to steal away from the explanation which she feared she - would have to make to him. But somehow she did not now dread facing it so - greatly as she had done in the Mill. She had heard that the Reverend Mr. - Wesley was severe, as well as austere. She had heard his Methodism mocked - by the fashionable folk at Bath, story after story being told of his - daring in rebuking the frivolities of the day. She had believed him to be - an unsympathetic curmudgeon of a man, whose mission it was to banish every - joy from life. - </p> - <p> - But now that she had heard his voice, so full of gentleness—now that - his eyes had rested upon her in kindliness and sympathy—now that she - had heard him not disdain to spend an hour telling her and her friends - that romance of the backwoods, thrilling them by his telling of it, her - dread of being rebuked by him for her levity was certainly a good deal - less than it had been. Still she looked uneasily away from him, and they - had taken a good many steps in silence together before she made an attempt - to answer him. And even then she did not look at him. - </p> - <p> - “'Twas a piece of folly, I am afraid, sir,” she said in a low tone. “At - least you may esteem it folly, though it did not fail to amuse the good - people at the Mill,” she added in an impulse of vanity not to be resisted. - </p> - <p> - “I had no doubt that it was a domestic game,” said he. “They were all - roaring with laughter. Had you heard, as I did, from without, the loud - laughter of the men and above it the wild, shrill shrieks, you would, I am - sure, have been as amazed as I was.” - </p> - <p> - She laughed now quite without restraint. - </p> - <p> - “Bedlam—Bedlam—nothing less than Bedlam it must have seemed to - you, Mr. Wesley,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “I will not contend with you as to the appropriateness of your - description,” said he, smiling, still kindly. - </p> - <p> - “The truth is, sir, that I have just returned from paying my first visit - to the Bath,” said she. “'Twas the greatest event in my simple life. I - went to act as dresser to the Squire's young ladies, and they were so good - as to allow me to see mostly all that there was to be seen, and to hear - all that there was to be heard.” - </p> - <p> - “What—all? That were a perilous permission that your young ladies - gave to you.” - </p> - <p> - “I know not what is meant by all, but I heard much, sir; singers and - preachers and players. I was taken to the Cave of Harmony for lovely - music, and to the playhouse, where I saw Mistress Woffington in one of her - merry parts. I was busy telling of this when you entered the Mill. I was - doing my best to shriek like Mistress Woffington.” - </p> - <p> - She spoke lightly and with a certain assurance, as though she were - determined to uphold her claim to go whithersoever she pleased. - </p> - <p> - She was in a manner disappointed that he did not at once show himself to - be shocked. But he heard her and remained silent himself. Some moments - passed; but still he did not speak; he waited. - </p> - <p> - Of course she began to excuse herself; he knew that she would do so. The - uneasily confident way in which she had talked of the playhouse had told - him that she would soon be accusing herself by her excuses without the - need for him to open his lips. - </p> - <p> - “You will understand, sir, I doubt not, that I was but in the position of - a servant, though my ladies treated me graciously; I could not but obey - them in all matters,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “Does your saying that mean that you had some reluctance in going to the - playhouse?” he asked her. - </p> - <p> - “I was not quite—quite—sure,” she replied slowly. “I had heard - that the playhouse was a wicked place.” - </p> - <p> - “And therefore you were interested in it—is that so?” - </p> - <p> - “But I asked myself, 'Would my young ladies go to the playhouse—would - the Squire, who surely knows a good deal about wickedness, having lived - for so many years in London—would the Squire and his lady allow them - to go to the playhouse if there was anything evil in it?'” - </p> - <p> - “And so you went and you were delighted with the painted faces on both - sides of the stage, and you have remained unsettled ever since, so that - you must needs do your best to imitate an actress whose shamelessness of - living is in everybody's mouth? I know that you imitated this Woffington - woman to your young ladies when you returned warm and excited from the - playhouse, and they laughed hugely at your skill.” - </p> - <p> - Nelly stood still, so startled was she at the divination of her companion. - </p> - <p> - “How came you to hear that?” she cried. - </p> - <p> - “Were we not alone in the bedroom? Who could have told you so much?” - </p> - <p> - “And when you returned to your home you were not many hours under its roof - before you were strutting about feeling yourself to be decked out in the - fine clothes which you had seen that woman wear in the playhouse?” - </p> - <p> - “You have been talking to someone—was it Jake Pullsford? But how - could he have known? Oh, sir; you seem to have in yourself a power equal - to that of the water-finder's wand, only surer by a good measure.” - </p> - <p> - “And you saw no evil in the playhouse?” he said gently. - </p> - <p> - “I do not want to go again, Mr. Wesley,” she said. “But indeed I dare not - say that I saw any of the wickedness that I have heard of, in the - theatre.” - </p> - <p> - “What, are you not in yourself an example of the evil?” said he. - </p> - <p> - “What—I, sir? Surely not, Mr. Wesley. Whatever you may have heard - you could hear nothing against me,” she cried, somewhat indignantly. - </p> - <p> - Her indignation lent her boldness and she turned to him, saying: - </p> - <p> - “I affirm, sir, and I am not ashamed to do so, that I saw nothing of evil - in the playhouse, and I made up my mind that instead of spending my days - hidden away in a lonely village far from all the pleasures of life, I - would try my fortune as an actress. I believe that I have some gift of - mimicry—my ladies told me so. Why, sir, you allowed that my shrieks - frightened you outside the Mill.” - </p> - <p> - “Child, your feet are on a path perilous,” said he. “You were indignant - when I said that you were in yourself an example of the evil of going to - the playhouse. Every word that you have spoken since has gone to prove the - truth of my assertion. Do you say that the unsettling of your mind is no - evil due to your visits to the playhouse—the unsettling of your - mind, the discontent at your homely and virtuous surroundings, the - arousing of a foolish vanity in your heart and the determination to take a - step that would mean inevitable ruin to such as you—ruin and the - breaking of your father's heart?” - </p> - <p> - He spoke calmly, and in his voice there was more than a suggestion of - sorrow. - </p> - <p> - She had become pale; she made an attempt to face him and repel his - accusations, but there was something in his face that took all the - strength out of her. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed - bitterly. He watched her for some moments, and then he put a soothing hand - upon her arm. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, dear child, be not overcome,” said he. “Have you not said to me that - you have no wish ever to enter the playhouse again? Let that be enough. Be - assured that I will not upbraid you for your possession of that innocence - which saved you from seeing aught that was wrong in the play or the - players. Unto the pure all things are pure. Unto the innocent all things - are harmless. You were born for the glory of God. If you let that be your - thought day and night your feet will be kept in the narrow way.” - </p> - <p> - She caught his hand and held it in both her own hands. - </p> - <p> - “I give you my promise,” she cried, her eyes upon his face; they were - shining all the more brightly through her tears. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, there is no need for you to give me any promise,” he said. “I will - have confidence in your fidelity without any promise.” - </p> - <p> - “You will have to reckon with me first, you robber!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - They both started at the sound of the voice. It came from a scowling man - who, unperceived by them, had come through a small plantation of poplars - on the slope at one side of the road, and now leaped from the bank, high - though it was, and stood confronting them. - </p> - <p> - The girl faced him. - </p> - <p> - “What do you here, John Bennet?” she cried. “Have you been playing the spy - as usual?” - </p> - <p> - “You are one of them that needs to be watched, my girl,” said he. “You - know that I speak the truth and that is why you feel it the more bitterly. - But rest sure that I shall watch you and watch you and watch you while I - have eyes in my head.” - </p> - <p> - He was a lank man, who wore his own red hair tied in a queue. He had eyes - that certainly would make anyone feel that the threat which he had uttered - to the girl was one that he was well qualified to carry out; they were - small and fierce—the eyes of a fox when its vigilance is - overstrained. - </p> - <p> - He kept these eyes fixed upon her for some moments, and then turned them - with the quickness of a flash of light upon Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “I heard what she said and I heard what you said, my gentleman,” said he. - “You will have faith in her fidelity—the fidelity of Nelly Polwhele. - I know not who you are that wears a parson's bands; but parson or no - parson I make bold to tell you that you are a fool—the biggest fool - on earth if you have faith in any promise made by that young woman.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said Wesley, “you called me a thief just now. My knowledge of the - falsehood of that accusation enables me to disregard any slander that you - may utter against this innocent girl.” - </p> - <p> - “I called you a thief once and I shall call you so a second time,” cried - the man. “You have stolen the love of this girl from me—nay, 'tis no - use for you to raise your hand like that. I know you are ready to swear - that you said nothing except what a good pastor would say to one of his - flock—swear it, swear it and perjure yourself, as usual—all of - your cloth do it when the Bishop lays his hands upon their wigs, and they - swear to devote their lives to the souls of their parishes and then hasten - to their rectories to get on their hunting boots—their hunting boots - that are never off their legs save when they are playing bowls or kneeling—kneeling—ay, - in the cock-pit.” - </p> - <p> - “Silence, sir!” cried Wesley. “Pass on your way and allow us to proceed on - ours.” - </p> - <p> - “I have told your reverence some home truths; and as for yonder girl, who - has doubtless tricked you as she did me——” - </p> - <p> - “Silence, sir, this instant! You were coward enough to insult a man who - you knew could not chastise you, and now you would slander a girl! There - is your way, sir; ours is in the other direction.” - </p> - <p> - He had his eyes fixed on the man's eyes, and as he faced him he pointed - with his riding whip down the road. The man stared at him, and then Nelly - saw all the fierceness go out of his eyes. He retreated slowly from Mr. - Wesley, as though he were under the influence of a force upon which he had - not previously reckoned. Once he put his hands quickly up to his face, as - if to brush aside something that was oppressing him. His jaw fell, and - although he was plainly trying to speak, no words came from his parted - lips. With a slow indrawing of his breath he followed with his eyes the - direction indicated by the other's riding whip. A horseman was trotting - toward them, but in the distance. - </p> - <p> - Then it was that the man recovered his power of speech. - </p> - <p> - “You saw him coming—that emboldened you!” he said. “Don't fancy that - because I was a bit dazed that 'twas you who got the better of me. I'll - have speech with you anon, and if you still have faith in that girl——” - </p> - <p> - The sound of the clattering hoofs down the road became more distinct. The - man took another quick glance in the direction of the sound, and then with - an oath turned and leapt up to the green bank beside him. He scrambled up - to the top and at once disappeared among the trees. - </p> - <p> - Wesley and the girl stood watching him, and when he had disappeared their - eyes took the direction that the man's had taken. A gentleman, splendidly - mounted on a roan, with half a dozen dogs—a couple of sleek - spaniels, a rough sheep dog and three terriers—at his heels, trotted - up. Seeing the girl, he pulled up. - </p> - <p> - “Hillo, Nelly girl!” he cried cheerily, when she had dropped him a - curtsey. “Hillo! Who was he that slunk away among the trees?” - </p> - <p> - “'Twas only John Bennet, if you please, parson,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “It doth not please me,” said he. “The fellow is only fit for a madhouse - or the county gaol. He looked, so far as I could see, as if he was - threatening you or—I ask your pardon, sir; your horse hid you.” - </p> - <p> - When he had pulled up Mr. Wesley had been on the off side of his horse and - half a dozen yards apart from the girl; so that the stranger had no chance - of seeing the bands that showed him to be a clergyman. - </p> - <p> - “You arrived opportunely, sir,” he said. “I fear if the man had not - perceived you coming in the distance, we might have found ourselves in - trouble.” - </p> - <p> - “What, did the fellow threaten you? Shall I set the dogs upon his track? - Say the word and I'll wager you <i>King George</i> against your sorry - skewbald that he'll find himself in trouble before many minutes are over,” - cried the stranger. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir; the man hath gone and we are unharmed,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “The scoundrel! Let me but get him within reach of my whip!” said the - other. “But the truth is, Nelly, that the fellow is more than half - demented through his love for you. And i' faith, I don't blame him. Ah, a - sad puss you are, Nelly. There will not be a whole heart in the Port if - you do not marry some of your admirers.” - </p> - <p> - Then he turned to Wesley, saying: - </p> - <p> - “You are a brother parson, sir, I perceive, though I do not call your face - to mind. Are you on your way to take some duty—maybe 'tis for Josh - Hilliard; I heard that he had a touch of his old enemy. But now that I - think on't 'twould not be like Josh to provide a substitute.” - </p> - <p> - “I have come hither without having a church to preach in, sir; my name is - Wesley, John Wesley.” - </p> - <p> - “What, the head of the men we christened Methodists at Oxford?” - </p> - <p> - “The same, sir. I believe that the name hath acquired a very honourable - significance since those days. I hope that we are all good churchmen, at - any rate.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't doubt it, Mr. Wesley; but you will not preach in my church, sir, - of that you may rest assured.” - </p> - <p> - “You are frank, sir; but pray remember that I have not yet asked your - permission to do so.” - </p> - <p> - The other laughed, and spoke a word or two to his horse, who was becoming - impatient and was only controlled with difficulty. - </p> - <p> - “A fair retort, Mr. Wesley—a fair retort, sir,” he said. “I like - your spirit; and by my word, I have a sort of covert admiration for you. I - hear that none can resist your preaching—not even a Bishop. You have - my hearty sympathy and good will, sir, but I will not go to hear you - preach. The truth is that you are too persuasive, Mr. Wesley, and I cannot - afford to be persuaded to follow your example. I find the Church a very - snug nest for a younger son with simple country tastes and a rare - knowledge of whist; I am a practical man, sir, and my advice upon occasion - has healed many a feud between neighbours. I know a good horse and I ride - straight to hounds. In the cockpit my umpiring is as good law as the - Attorney General could construe for a fee of a thousand guineas. Ask - anyone in this county what is his opinion of Parson Rodney and you will - hear the truth as I have told it to you. I wish you luck, Mr. Wesley, but - I will not countenance your preaching in my church; nor will I hear you, - lest I should be led by you to reform my ways, as I suppose you would say; - I am a younger son, and a younger son cannot afford to have doubts on the - existing state of things, when the living that he inherits is of the net - value of eight hundred pounds per annum. So fare you well, sir, and I beg - of you not to make my flock too discontented with my ten-minute sermons. - They should not be so, seeing that my sermons are not mine; but for the - most part Doctor Tillotson's—an excellent divine, sir—sound—sound - and not above the heads of our gaffers. Fare thee well, Nelly; break as - few hearts as thy vanity can do with.” - </p> - <p> - And Parson Rodney, smiling gallantly, and waving his whip gracefully, - whistled to his dogs, and put his roan to the trot for which he was eager. - </p> - <p> - “An excellent type,” murmured Wesley. “Alas! but too good a type. Plain, - honest, a gentleman; but no zeal, no sense of his responsibility for the - welfare of the souls entrusted to his keeping.” - </p> - <p> - He stood for some time watching the man on the thoroughbred. Then he - turned to Nelly Polwhele, saying: - </p> - <p> - “We were interrupted in our pleasant chat; but we have still three miles - to go. Tell me what the people think of Parson Rodney.” - </p> - <p> - “They do not think aught about him, Mr. Wesley; they all like him: he - never preaches longer than ten minutes.” - </p> - <p> - “A right good reason for their liking of him—as good a reason as he - had for liking the Church; it doth not exact overmuch from him, and it - saves him from sponging on his friends. The Church of England has ever - been an indulgent mother.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>uch a sight had - never been seen in Cornwall before: on this Sunday morning an hour after - sunrise every road leading to the village of Porthawn had its procession - of men, women, and children, going to hear the preacher. The roads became - dusty, as dry roads do when an army of soldiers passes over them; and here - was an army of soldiers along, with its horse and foot and baggage-waggons—such - an army as had never been in the West since the days of Monmouth's - Rebellion; and this great march was the beginning of another rebellion, - not destined to fail as the other had failed. Without banners, without - arms, with no noise, with no shoutings of the captains, this great force - marched to fight—to take part in an encounter that proved more - lasting in its effects than any recorded in the history of England since - the days of the Norman Invasion. - </p> - <p> - The Cornish crowds did not know that they were making history. The people - had heard rumours of the preacher who had awakened the people of - Somersetshire from their sleep of years, and who, on being excluded from - the churches which had become Sabbath dormitories, had gone to the fields - where all was wakefulness, and had here spoken to the hearts of tens of - thousands. - </p> - <p> - The reports that spread abroad by the employment of no apparent agency - must have contained some element that appealed with overwhelming power to - the people of the West. The impulse that drove quiet folk from their homes - and induced them to march many miles along dusty roads upon the morning of - the only day of the week that gave them respite from toil was surely - stronger than mere curiosity. They did not go into the wilderness to see a - reed shaken by the wind. There was a seriousness of purpose and a - sincerity about these people which must have been the result of a strong - feeling among them that the existing order of things was lacking in some - essentials—that the Church should become a stimulating force to them - who were ready to perish, and not remain the apathetic force that it was - when at its best, the atrophying influence that it was when at its worst. - </p> - <p> - That the ground was ready for the sowing was the opinion of Wesley, though - few signs had been given to him to induce this conclusion, but that he had - not misinterpreted the story of the Valley of Dry Bones was proved by the - sight of the multitudes upon the roads—upon the moorland - sheep-tracks—upon the narrow lanes where the traffic was carried on - by pack-horses. There they streamed in their thousands. Farmers with their - wives and children seated on chairs in their heavy waggons, men astride of - everything that was equine—horses and mules and asses—some - with their wives or sisters on the pillion behind them, but still more - riding double with a friend. - </p> - <p> - On the wayside were some who were resting, having walked seven or eight or - ten miles, and had seen the sun rise over the hills on that scented Spring - morning. Some were having their breakfast among the primroses under the - hedges, some were smoking their pipes before setting forth to complete - their journey. Mothers, were nursing their infants beneath the pink and - white coral of the hawthorns. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis a fair,” said Hal Holmes to his friend, Dick Pritchard, who was - seated by his side in a small pony cart made by himself during the winter. - </p> - <p> - “Salvation Fair,” hazarded the water-finder. “Salvation Fair I would call - it if only I was bold enough.” - </p> - <p> - The smith shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “That is how it will be styled by many, I doubt not,” he said. “And being - as it must be, a strange mixture of the two—a church-going and a - fairgoing—I have my fears that 'twill fall 'twixt the two. If the - thing was more of a failure 'twould be a huge success. You take me, Dick?” - </p> - <p> - “Only vague, Hal—only vague, man,” replied the water-finder, after a - long cogitating pause. “When you spake the words there came a flash upon - me like the glim from the lanthorn when 'tis opened sudden. I saw the - meaning clear enough like as 'twere a stretch of valley on an uneven night - of moonlight and cloud. Seemed as if there was a rift in your discourse - and the moon poured through. But then the clouds fled across and I walk in - the dark. Say 't again, Hal, and it may be that 'twill be plain. I have - oft thought that your speech lit up marvellous well.” - </p> - <p> - The blacksmith grinned. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe that is by reason of my work with the forge,” he said. “The furnace - is black enough until I give it a blast with the bellows and then 'tis a - very ruby stone struck wi' lightning.” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe—ay, very likely,” said the little man doubtfully. - </p> - <p> - The smith grinned again. - </p> - <p> - “You don't altogether see it with my eyes, friend,” he said. “How could - you, Dick, our trades being natural enemies the one to t'other? My best - friend is fire, yours is water. But what was on my mind this moment was - the likelihood that the light-hearted may be fain to treat this great - serious field gathering as though it were no more than a fair. Now, I say - still that if 'twas no more than a gathering together of two or three - parishes none would think of it in light of a fair, but being as 'tis—a - marvel of moving men and women—why, then, there may be levity and - who knows what worse.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, it looks as if the carcase of the hills was alive and moving with - crawling maggots,” remarked Dick. The summit of the hill on the road had - been reached, and thus a view was given him and his companion of the - hollow in the valley beyond, which was black with the slow-moving - procession. - </p> - <p> - And there were many who, while anxious for the success of the meeting, - shared Hal Holmes's fears and doubts as to its result. What impression - could one man make upon so vast an assembly in the open air, they asked of - each other. They shook their heads. - </p> - <p> - These were the sober-minded people who sympathised with the aims of the - preacher—God-fearing men and women to whom his hopes had been - communicated. They knew that hundreds in that procession on the march to - the meeting-place were no more serious than they would be had they been - going to a fair. They were going to meet their friends, and they were - impelled by no higher motives than those which were the result of the - instinct of the gregarious animals. Many of them lived far away from a - town or even a village, in the wilder parts of the Duchy, and they laid - hold on an opportunity that promised to bring them in contact with a - greater crowd than they had ever joined before. The joy of being one of - the crowd was enough for them; the preaching was only an insignificant - incident in the day's proceedings. The sober-minded, knowing this, were - afraid that in these people the spirit of levity might be aroused, - especially if they could not hear the words of the preacher, and the - consequences would be disastrous. - </p> - <p> - And doubtless there were hundreds of the dwellers along the coast who - would have been pleased if grief came to an enterprise that threatened - their employment as smugglers or the agents of smugglers. Smuggling and - wrecking were along the coast, and pretty far inland as well, regarded as - a legitimate calling. Almost everyone participated in the profits of the - contraband, and the majority of the clergy would have been very much less - convivial if they had had to pay the full price for their potations. - Preaching against such traffic would have been impolitic as well as - hypocritical, and the clergy were neither. The parson who denounced his - congregation for forsaking the service on the news of a wreck reaching the - church was, probably, a fair type of his order. His plea was for fair - play. “Let us all start fair for the shore, my brethren.” - </p> - <p> - Such men had a feeling that the man who had come to preach to the - multitude would be pretty sure to denounce their fraud; or if he did not - actually denounce it he might have such an influence upon their customers - as would certainly be prejudicial to the trade. This being so, how could - it be expected that they should not look forward to the failure of the - mission? - </p> - <p> - And there was but a solitary man to contend against this mixed multitude! - There was but one voice to cry in that wilderness—one voice to - awaken those who slept. The voice spoke, and its sound echoed round the - wide world. - </p> - <p> - He stood with bared head, with a rock for his pulpit, on a small plateau - overlooking a long stretch of valley. On each side there was an uneven, - sloping ground—rocks overgrown with lichen, and high tufts of coarse - herbage between, with countless blue wild flowers and hardy climbing - plants. The huge basin formed by the converging of the slopes made a - natural amphitheatre, where ten thousand people might be seated. Behind - were the cliffs, and all through the day the sound of the sea beating - around their bases mingled with the sound of many voices. A hundred feet - to the west there hung poised in its groove the enormous rocking stone of - Red Tor. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps amongst the most distant of his hearers there was one who might - never again have an opportunity of having the word that awakens spoken in - his hearing. There might be one whose heart was as the ground in Summer—waiting - for the seed to be sown that should bring forth fruit, sixtyfold or an - hundredfold. That was what the man thought as he looked over the vast - multitude. He felt for a moment overwhelmed by a sense of his - responsibility. He felt that by no will of his own he had been thrust - forward to perform a miracle, and he understood clearly that the - responsibility of its performance rested with him. - </p> - <p> - For a moment the cry of the overwhelmed was in his heart. - </p> - <p> - “It is too much that is laid upon me.” - </p> - <p> - For a moment he experienced that sense of rebellion which in a supreme - moment of their lives—the moment preceding a great achievement for - the benefit of the world—takes possession of so many of the world's - greatest, and which has its origin in a feeling of humility. It lasted but - for a moment. Then he found that every thought of his mind—every - sense of his soul—was absorbed by another and greater force. He had - a consciousness of being possessed by a Power that dominated every - sensation of his existence. That Power had thrust him out from himself as - it were, and he felt that he was standing by wondering while a voice that - he did not know to be his own went forth, and he knew that it reached the - most remote of the people before him. It was like his own voice heard in a - dream. For days there had been before his eyes the vision that had come to - the prophet—the vision of the Valley of Dry Bones. He had seemed to - stand by the side of the man to whom it had been revealed. He had always - felt that the scene was one of the most striking that had ever been - depicted; but during the week it was not merely its mysticism that had - possessed him. He felt that it was a real occurrence taking place before - his very eyes. - </p> - <p> - And now he was standing on his rock looking all through that long valley, - and he saw—not the thousands of people who looked up to him, but - ranks upon ranks and range upon range of dead men's bones, bleaching in - the sunshine—filling up all the hollows of the valley forsaken of - life, overhung by that dread legend of a battle fought so long ago that - its details had vanished. There they stretched, hillocks of white bones—ridges - of white bones—heaps upon heaps. The winds of a thousand years had - wailed and shrieked and whistled, sweeping through the valley, the rains - of a thousand years had been down upon them—hail and snow had flung - their pall of white over the whiteness of the things that lay there, the - lightnings had made lurid the hollow places in the rocks, and had rent in - sunder the overhanging cliffs—there was the sign of such a storm—the - tumbled tons of black basalt that lay athwart one of the white hillocks—and - on nights of fierce tempest the white foam from the distant sea had been - borne through the air and flung in quivering flakes over cliffs and into - chasm—upon coarse herbage and the blue rock flowers. But some nights - were still. The valley was canopied with stars. And there were nights of - vast moonlight, and the white moonlight spread itself like a great - translucent lake over the white deadness of that dreary place.... - </p> - <p> - The man saw scene after scene in that valley as in a dream. And then there - came a long silence, and out of that silence he heard the voice that said: - “Can these dead bones live?” - </p> - <p> - There was another silence before the awful voice spoke the command: - </p> - <p> - “Let these bones live!” - </p> - <p> - Through the moments of silence that followed, the sound of the sea was - borne by a fitful breeze over the cliff face and swept purring through the - valley. - </p> - <p> - Then came the moment of marvel. There was a quivering here and there—something - like the long indrawing of breath of a sleeper who has slept for long but - now awakens—a slow heaving as of a giant refreshed, and then in - mysterious, dread silence, with no rattling of hollow skeleton limbs, - there came the great moving among the dry bones, and they rose up, an - exceeding great army. - </p> - <p> - Life had come triumphant out of the midst of - </p> - <p> - Death. That was what the voice said. The whole valley, which had been - silent an hour before, was now vibrating, pulsating with life—the - tumult of life which flows through a great army—every man alert, at - his post in his rank—waiting for whatever might come—the - advance of the enemy, the carrying out of the strategy of the commander. - </p> - <p> - Life had come triumphant out of the midst of death, and who would dare now - to say that the deepest spiritual life might not lie hidden from sight - among the bleaching heaps of dead bones that strewed the valley from - cliffy to cliffs—hidden but only waiting for the voice to cry aloud: - </p> - <p> - “Let these bones live!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that that Dread Voice would speak through me!” cried the preacher. - </p> - <p> - That was the first time he became conscious of the sound of his own voice, - and he was startled. He had heard that other voice speaking, carrying him - away upon the wings of its words down through the depths of that mystic - valley, but now all was silent and he was standing with trembling hands - and quivering lips, gazing out over no valley of mystery alive with a - moving host, but over a Cornish vale of crags; and yet there beneath his - eyes were thousands of faces, and they looked like the faces of such as - had been newly awakened after a long sleep—dazed—wondering—waiting.... - </p> - <p> - He saw it. The great awakening had come to these people, and now they were - waiting—for what? - </p> - <p> - He knew what he had to offer them. He knew what was the message with which - he had been entrusted—the good news which they had never heard - before. - </p> - <p> - And he told it with all simplicity, in all humility, in all sincerity—the - evangel of boundless love—of illimitable salvation, not from the - wrath to come—he had no need to speak of the Day of Wrath—his - theme wras the Day of Grace—salvation from the distrust of God's - mercy—salvation from the doubts, from the cares of the world, from - the lethargy that fetters the souls of men, from the gross darkness and - from the complacency of walking in that darkness. - </p> - <p> - He let light in upon their darkness and he forced them to see the dangers - of the dark, and, seeing, they were overwhelmed. For the first time these - people had brought before their eyes the reality of sin—the reality - of salvation. They had had doctrines brought before them in the past, but - the tale of doctrines had left them unmoved. They had never felt that - doctrines were otherwise than cold, impassioned utterances. Doctrines - might have been the graceful fabrics that clothed living truths, but the - truth had been so wrapped up in them that it had remained hidden so far as - they were concerned. They had never caught a glimpse of the living reality - beneath. - </p> - <p> - But here was the light that showed them the living thing for which they - had waited, and the wonder of the sight overwhelmed them. - </p> - <p> - The voice of the preacher spoke to them individually. That was the sole - mystery of the preaching—the sole magnetism (as it has been called) - of the preacher. - </p> - <p> - And that was the sole mystery of the manifestation that followed. Faces - were streaming with tears, knees were bowed in prayer; but there were - other temperaments that were forced to give expression to their varied - feelings—of wonder, of humiliation, of exultation. These were not to - be controlled. There were wild sobbings, passionate cries, a shout or two - of thanksgiving, an outburst of penitence—all the result of the - feelings too strong to be controlled, and all tokens of the new life that - had begun to pulsate in that multitude—all tokens that the Valley - which had been strewn with dry bones had heard the voice that said: - </p> - <p> - “Let these dry bones live.” - </p> - <p> - There was a great moving among the dry bones, and they stood up, an - exceeding great army. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>is preaching had - ceased, but the note that he had struck continued to vibrate through the - valley. He had spoken with none of the formality of the priest who aims at - keeping up a certain aloofness from the people. This Mr. Wesley had spoken - as brother to brother, and every phrase that he uttered meant the breaking - down of another of the barriers which centuries had built up between the - pulpit and the people. - </p> - <p> - They proved that they felt this to be so when he came among them. Warm - hands were stretched out to meet his own—words of blessing were - ejaculated by such as were able to speak; but infinitely more eloquent - were the mute expressions of the feeling of the multitude. Some there were - who could not be restrained from throwing themselves upon his shoulders, - clasping him as if he had indeed been their brother from whom they had - been separated for long; others caught his hands and kissed them. Tears - were still on many faces, and many were lighted up with an expression of - rapture that transfigured their features. - </p> - <p> - He made no attempt to restrain any of the extravagances to which that hour - had given birth. He knew better than to do so. He had read of the - extravagant welcome given by the people of a town long besieged to the - envoys who brought the first news of the approach of the relieving force, - and he knew that he was there as an envoy to tell the people about him of - their release. He had himself witnessed the reception given to the King's - Posts that brought the tidings of the last peace, and he knew that he - himself was a King's Messenger, bearing to these people the tidings of - Peace and Goodwill. - </p> - <p> - He had a word of kindness and comfort and advice to all. He was an elder - brother, talking to the members of his own family on equal terms. But soon - he left the side of these new-found brethren, for his eyes had not failed - to see some who were sitting apart among the low crags—some in - silent dejection, bearing the expression of prisoners for whom no order of - release has come, though they had seen it come for others. But all were - not silent: many were moaning aloud with ejaculations of despair. In the - joy that had been brought to their friends they had no share. Nay, the - message that had brought peace to others had brought despair to them. They - had been happy enough before, knowing nothing of or caring nothing for, - the dangers that surrounded them in the darkness, and the letting in of - the light upon them had appalled them. - </p> - <p> - He was beside them in a moment, questioning them, soothing their fears, - removing their doubts, whispering a word or two of prayer in their ears. - Jake, the carrier, had been right: the preacher had balm for the wounds of - those who suffered. He went about among them for hours, not leaving the - side of any who doubted until their doubts had been removed and they - shared the happiness that the Great Message brought with it. But the - evangel had arisen upon that valley as the Daystar, with healing in its - wings. - </p> - <p> - When the multitude dispersed, the church bells were making melody over the - hills and through the dales. The Reverend Mr. Wesley was a good churchman, - and he took care that his preaching did not interfere with the usual - services. His object was to fill the churches with devout men, and not - merely the body of the churches, but the pulpits as well. - </p> - <p> - For himself, he withdrew from his friends and walked slowly up one of the - tracks leading to the summit of the cliffs a few miles beyond the village - of Porthawn. He wished to be alone, for amid all his feelings of - thankfulness for the good which he knew had been done through his - preaching, there came to him a doubt. Had he been faithful in his delivery - of the Message? Had he yielded up everything of self to the service of the - Master? Had he said a word that might possibly become a stone of stumbling - to the feet that had just set out upon the narrow way? - </p> - <p> - That was the fear which was ever present with him—the possibility - that the Message had failed in its power by reason of his frailty in - delivering it—the possibility that he might attribute to himself - some of the merit of the Message. - </p> - <p> - The hours which he passed in loneliness almost every day of his life, the - solitary rides covering thousands of miles, his long walks without a - companion, were devoted to self renunciation. He was more afraid of - himself than of any enemy from without. He sometimes found himself in such - a frame of mind as caused him to admire the spirit that led the priests of - the heathen beliefs in the East to torture and mutilate themselves in the - attainment of what appeared to them to be holiness. He knew that their way - was not the right way, and the object which they strove to achieve was not - a worthy one; but he could not deny the self-sacrifice and its value. - </p> - <p> - Yes, but was it not possible that self-sacrifice might, if performed - ostentatiously, become only another form of self-glorification? - </p> - <p> - It was only now that this thought flashed upon him. He had walked along - the cliff path for a mile or two, and soon became aware of the pangs of - hunger. It was nothing for him to set out to preach without having more - than a bite or two of bread, and to go fasting until the afternoon. He had - never regarded this as an act of self-sacrifice. But how had he felt when - some of his friends had made much of these facts, entreating him to be - more mindful of his health? Had he not felt a certain pride in thinking - that his health was regarded as important? - </p> - <p> - And now, when he should return to the house where he was a guest—it - was the house of a Mr. Hartwell, the owner of a mine in the tin district - some distance from Porthawn—would not his hours of fasting preceding - and following the exertion of preaching to so great a multitude in the - open air make him appear akin to a martyr in the eyes of the people with - whom he might come in contact? - </p> - <p> - Nay, could he deny that he felt some vanity in the reflection that here - again he would be seriously remonstrated with for his disregard of - himself? - </p> - <p> - Even his orderly mind was unable to differentiate between the degrees of - self-sacrifice and self-satisfaction involved in this simple question of - fasting and eating, and he was troubled that his attempts to do so were - not wholly successful. It was like the man that, in his hours of - exhaustion, he should be dissatisfied with what was really the result of - his exhaustion. This trivial self-examination was, though he did not know - it, only the result of his neglect of the wants of his body. Yes, but this - fact did not make it the less worrying to him. - </p> - <p> - He had been led by the charm of the day to walk farther than he had - intended, and he was so exhausted that he found it necessary to rest in a - dip of the cliffs above the little bay. On each side of him stretched the - broken shore, a short crescent patch of sand at every dip in that long, - uneven wall, and marking the outline of its curve was the white floss of - the lazy ripples. Behind him was the coarse sand-herbage of the broken - shore, and in front of him stretched the sea. A white bird or two hovered - between the waters and the cliff summit, and far away a revenue cutter - showed its white sails. Sunlight was over all. The warm air seemed imbued - with the presence of God, which all might breathe and become at peace with - all the world. - </p> - <p> - It came over the face of the waters, upon the face of the man who reclined - upon a cushion of springy herbage that quite hid the shape of the rock at - whose base it found root. The feathery touch upon his brow soothed him as - a mother's hand soothes her child and banishes its distrust. He lay there - and every doubt that had oppressed him vanished. He was weary and hungry, - but he felt that the grace of heaven was giving him food in the strength - of which he might wander in the wilderness for forty days. - </p> - <p> - He closed his eyes and with the faint hum of the little bees that droned - among the blue cliff-flowers,—with the faint wash of the ripples - upon the unnumbered pebbles of the beach—a sweet sleep crept over - him. - </p> - <p> - When he awoke it was not with a start, but as gently as he had fallen - asleep. For a moment he had a fear that he had overslept himself. He - turned to look at the sun and saw standing only half a dozen yards away - the girl by whose side he had walked a few mornings before to the village. - </p> - <p> - The picture that she made to his eyes was in keeping with the soothing - sights and sounds of this placid day. She wore a white kirtle and cap, but - the latter had failed to restrain the abundant hair which showed itself in - little curls upon her forehead, and in long strands of sunshine over her - ears and behind them. She was pleasant to look at—as pleasant as was - everything else of nature on this day; and he looked at her with pleased - eyes for some time before speaking. - </p> - <p> - As for Nelly, she was not watching him; but he could see that she had seen - him; she had only turned away lest he should have a man's distaste to be - caught sleeping in the daytime. He perceived this the moment that he spoke - and she turned to him. The little start that she gave was artificial. It - made him smile. - </p> - <p> - “I am at your mercy; but you will not betray my weakness to anyone,” he - said, smiling at her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir!” she cried, raising her hands. - </p> - <p> - “You saw me sleeping. I hope that 'twas not for long,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “I did not come hither more than five minutes agone, sir,” she replied. - “You cannot have slept more than half an hour. I came to seek you after - the preaching.” - </p> - <p> - “You have not been at your church, girl?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “I was at your church, Mr. Wesley. I like Parson Rodney. I did not go to - his church.” - </p> - <p> - He shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “I like not such an answer, child.'Twould grieve me to learn that there - were many of my hearers who would frame the same excuse.” - </p> - <p> - She hung her head. - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry, sir,” she said. “It was my intent to go to Parson Rodney's - church, if only to see how vast a difference there was 'twixt—that - is—I mean, Mr. Wesley, that—that my intention was to be in - church, only when I saw that you had wended your way alone through the - valley, not going in the direction of Mr. Hartwell's house, but far away - from it—what could one do, sir, who knew that you could not have had - a bite to eat since early morning—and after such a preaching and an - after-meeting that filled up another fasting hour? 'He has no one to look - after him,' said my mother in my ear. 'He is a forlorn man who thinks that - he is doing God's service by forgetting that his body must be nourished if - his soul is to remain sound.'” - </p> - <p> - “That is what your mother said—'tis shrewd enough. And what did you - reply? Mind that the answer hath a bearing upon your staying away from - church, Nelly.” - </p> - <p> - “I said naught, Mr. Wesley; but what I did was to hurry to our home and - pack you a basket of humble victuals and—here it is.” - </p> - <p> - She picked up a reed basket from the grass and brought it beside him. - Kneeling then on a stone she raised the lid and showed him a dish of - cooked pilchards, some cakes of wheat bread and a piece of cream cheese - laid on a pale green lettuce. - </p> - <p> - She had spread the coarsest and whitest napkin he had ever seen on the - face of the crag at his elbow, and with the air of a bustling housewife - laid a plate and knife and fork for him, talking all the time—reproving - him quite gravely and even severely for his inattention to his stomach—there - was no picking and choosing of words in Cornwall or elsewhere during that - robust century. She gave him no chance of defending himself, but rattled - on upbraiding him as if he had been a negligent schoolboy, until she had - laid out his picnic for him, and had spread the butter on one of the - home-made cakes, saying: - </p> - <p> - “There, now, you must not get upon your feet until you have put down all - that is before you. If you was to make the attempt to do so your long fast - would make you so faint that you would run a chance of tottering over the - cliff.” - </p> - <p> - He saw that there was no need for him to say a word. What could he say in - the face of such attention to his needs as the girl was showing? - </p> - <p> - “I submit with a good grace, my dear,” he said when her work was done and - she paused for breath. “Why should not I submit? I am, as you said, weak - by reason of hunger, and lo, a table is spread for me with such delicacies - as would tickle the appetite of a man who has just partaken of a heavy - meal, and I am not that man. Happier than the prophet, I am fed not by - ravens, but by a white dove.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir,” she said, her face shining with pleasure. “Oh, sir, I protest - that even in the genteelest society at the Bath, I never had so pretty a - compliment paid to me.” - </p> - <p> - He had paid his compliment to her in a delicate spirit of bantering, so as - to make no appeal to her vanity, and he saw that her pleasure was not the - result of gratified vanity. - </p> - <p> - “But concerning yourself, my dear,” he cried when he had his fork in his - hand, but had as yet touched nothing. “If I was fasting you must be also.” - </p> - <p> - “What, sir, did I omit to say that I returned to my home after your - preaching?” she said. “Oh, yes; I got the basket there and the pilchards. - My father despises pilchards, but I hope that you——” - </p> - <p> - “I ama practical man, Nelly, and I know, without the need to make a - calculation on paper, that you could not be more than a few minutes in - your cottage, and that all that time was spent by you over my basket. I - know such as you—a hasty mouthful of cake and a spoonful of milk and - you say, 'I have dined.' Now I doubt much if you had so much as a spoonful - of milk, and therefore I say that unless you face me at this table of - stone, I will eat nothing of your store; and I know that that would be the - greatest punishment I could inflict upon you. Take your place, madam, at - the head of the table.” - </p> - <p> - She protested. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir, I brought not enough for two—barely enough to sustain one - that is a small feeder until he has the opportunity of sitting down to a - regular meal.” - </p> - <p> - “I have spoken,” he said. “I need but a bite! Oh, the long fasting - journeys that I have had within the year!” - </p> - <p> - She still hesitated, but when, at last, she seated herself, she did not - cause him to think that he had made her feel ill at ease; she adapted - herself to the position into which he had forced her, from the moment she - sat opposite to him. She forgot for the time that he was the preacher on - whom thousands of men and women had hung a couple of hours before, and - that she, if she had not been with him, would have been eating in a - fisherman's cottage. - </p> - <p> - She had acquired, through her association with the Squire's young ladies, - something of their manners. Her gift of quick observation was allied to a - capacity to copy what she observed, and being, womanlike, well aware of - this fact, she had no reason to feel otherwise than at ease while she ate - her share of the pilchards, and made him feel all the time that she was - partaking of his hospitality. - </p> - <p> - As for the preacher, he felt the girl's thoughtfulness very deeply. It - seemed that she was the only one of the thousands who had stood before him - that had thought for his needs. Her tact and the graceful way in which she - displayed it, even down to her readiness to sit with him lest he should - feel that she was remaining hungry, pleased him; and her chat, abounding - with shrewdness, was gracefully frank. He felt refreshed beyond measure by - her freshness, and he rose to walk to the house where he was a guest, - feeling that it was, indeed, good for him to have changed the loneliness - of his stroll for the companionship which she offered him. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he question had - often been discussed by him to the furthest point possible (as he thought) - for its consideration to be extended; and how was it that he found himself - debating it at this time in its crudest form? He had long ago settled it - to his own satisfaction, that his life was to be a lonely one through the - world. Not for him were to be the pleasant cares of home or wife or child. - Not for him was the tenderness of woman—not for him the babble of - the little lips, every quiver of which is a caress. His work was - sufficient for him, he had often said, and the contemplation of the - possibility of anything on earth coming between him and his labours, - filled him with alarm. He felt that if he were to cease to be absorbed in - his work, he should be unfaithful to his trust. The only one that was - truly faithful was the one who was ready to give up all to follow in the - footsteps of the Master. - </p> - <p> - But being human and full of human sympathy, he had often felt a moment's - envy entering the house of one of his friends who was married and become - the father of children. The hundred little occurrences incidental to a - household, where there was a nursery and a schoolroom, were marked by him—the - clambering of little chubby legs up to the father's knee—the - interpretation of the latest phrase that fell from baby lips—the - charm of golden silk curls around an innocent child's face—all these - and a score of other delights associated with the household had appealed - to him, giving him an hour's longing at the time, and a tender - recollection at intervals in after years. - </p> - <p> - “Not for me—not for me,” he had said. So jealous was he of his work - that, as has been noted, the possibility of his becoming absorbed—even - partially—by anything that was not directly pertaining to his work, - was a dread to him. He set himself the task of crushing down within him - every aspiration that might tend to interfere with the carrying out of the - labour of his life, and he believed that, by stern and strict endeavour, - he had succeeded in doing so. - </p> - <p> - Then why should he now find himself considering the question which he - believed he had settled forever? Why should he now begin to see that the - assurance that it was not good for a man to be alone was based upon a - knowledge of men and was wise? - </p> - <p> - He found an apt illustration of the wisdom of the precept in the conduct - of the girl who had shown such thoughtfulness in regard to him. “Mentem - mortalia tangunt,” was the <i>sors Virgiliana</i> which came to his mind - at the moment. He recognised the truth of it. A man was affected by the - material conditions of his life. If the girl had not shown such thought - for his comfort, he would well-nigh have been broken down by his - exhausting labours of the day, followed up by an exhausting walk along the - cliffs. He might not have returned to the house at which he was staying in - time to dine, before setting out for a long drive to another place for an - afternoon's meeting. So absorbed was he apt to be in his preaching that he - became oblivious to every consideration of daily life. What were to him - such trivial matters as eating and drinking at regular intervals? He - neglected the needs of his body, and only when he had suffered for so - doing did he feel that his carelessness was culpable. On recovering from - its' immediate effects, however, he fell back into his old habits. - </p> - <p> - But now the thought that came to him was that he had need for someone to - be by his side as (for example) Nelly Polwhele had been. He knew quite - well, without having had the experience of married life, that if he had - had a wife, he would not have been allowed to do anything so unwise as to - walk straight away from the preaching to the cliffs, having eaten nothing - since the early morning, and then only a single cake of bread. A good wife - would have drawn him away from the people to whom he was talking, to the - house where he was a guest, and when there have set about providing for - him the food which he lacked and the rest which he needed to restore him - after his arduous morning's work, so that he might set out for the - afternoon's preaching feeling as fresh as he had felt in the morning. - </p> - <p> - He was grateful to the girl, not only for her attention to him, but also - for affording him an illustration favourable to his altered way of looking - at a question which he fancied had long ago been settled forever in his - mind. (He had long ago forgiven the woman, who, in America, had taught him - to believe that a life of loneliness is more conducive to one's peace of - mind than a life linked to an unsympathetic companion.) - </p> - <p> - And having been led to such a conclusion, it was only reasonable that he - should make a resolution that, if he should ever be so fortunate as to - meet with a virtuous lady whom he should find to possess those qualities - which promised most readily to advance the work which he had at heart, he - would not be slow to ask her to be his companion to such an end. - </p> - <p> - This point settled to his satisfaction (as he thought), he mounted his - horse, after a week's stay in the valley of the Lana, and made his way to - the tinners of Camlin, twenty miles further along the coast Here he was - received with open arms, and preached from his rock pulpit to thousands of - eager men and women an hour after sunrise on a summer morning. - </p> - <p> - On still for another fortnight, in wilder districts, among people who - rarely entered a church, and whom the church made no attempt to reach. - These were the people for him. He was told that he was going forth to sow - the seed in stony ground, but when he came and began to sow, he found that - it fell upon fruitful soil. Here it was impossible for him to find a huge - congregation, so scattered were the inhabitants. But this was no obstacle - to him: he asked for no more than a group of hearers in every place, and - by the time that night came he found that he had preached to thousands - since sunrise. Beginning sometimes at five o'clock in the morning, he - would preach on the outskirts of a village and hold a second service - before breakfasting six miles away. It was nothing for him to preach half - a dozen times and ride thirty miles in one of these days. - </p> - <p> - But as he went further and further on this wonderful itinerary of his, - that sense of loneliness of which he had become aware at Porthawn seemed - to grow upon him. During those intervals of silence which he spent on - horseback, his feeling of loneliness appeared to increase, until at last - there came upon him a dread lest he should affect his labours. He had a - fear that a despondent note might find its way into his preaching, and - when under such an influence he made a strong effort in the opposite - direction, he was conscious of an artificial note; and, moreover, by the - true instinct of the man who talks to men, he was conscious that it was - detected by his hearers. - </p> - <p> - He was disappointed in himself—humiliated. How was it that for years - he had been able to throw off this feeling of walking alone, through the - world, or making no effort to throw it off, to glory in it, as it were—to - feel all the stronger because of it, inasmuch as it could not come without - bringing with it the reflection that he—he alone—had been - chosen to deliver the message to the multitudes—the message of Light - to the people that walked in darkness? - </p> - <p> - He could not understand how the change had come about in him, and not - being able to understand it, he felt the more humiliated. - </p> - <p> - And then, one day, riding slowly along the coach road, he saw a young - woman standing waiting for a change of horses for her post chaise at the - door of a small inn. - </p> - <p> - He started, for she had fair hair and a fresh face whose features bore - some resemblance to those of Nelly Polwhele—he started, for there - came upon him, with the force of a revelation, the knowledge that this was - the companionship for which he was longing—that unconsciously, she - had been in his thoughts—some way at the back of his thoughts, to be - sure, but still there—that, only since he had been her companion had - his need for some sweet and helpful companionship become impressed upon - him.. - </p> - <p> - He rode on to his destination overwhelmed by the surprise at the result of - this glimpse which had been given to him into the depths of his own heart. - The effect seemed to him as if with the sight of that stranger—that - young woman on the roadside—a flash of lightning had come, showing - him in an instant what was in the depths of his heart. - </p> - <p> - He tried to bring himself to believe that he was mistaken. - </p> - <p> - “Impossible—impossible!” he cried. “It is impossible that I should - be so affected—a village girl!... And I did not talk with her half a - dozen times in all!... Kind, thoughtful, with tact—a gracious - presence, a receptive mind.... Ah, it was she undoubtedly who set me - thinking—who made me feel dissatisfied with my isolation, but - still.. . oh, impossible—impossible!” - </p> - <p> - And, although a just man, the thoughts that he now believed himself to - have in regard to Nelly Polwhele were bitter rather than sweet. He began - to think that it was too bold of her—almost immodest—to make - the attempt to change the whole course of the life of such a man as he - was. He had once courted the lonely life, believing it to be the only life - for such as he—the only life that enabled him to give all his - thoughts—all his strength—oh, all his life—all his life—to - the work which had been appointed for him to do in the world of sinners; - but lo! that child had come to him, and had made him feel that he was not - so different from other men. - </p> - <p> - Under the influence of his bitterness, he resented her intrusion, as it - were. Pshaw! the girl wras nothing. It was only companionship as a - sentiment that he had been longing for; he had a clear idea of the - companionship that he needed; but he had never thought of the companion. - It was a mere trick of the fancy to suggest that, because the young woman - had sent his thoughts into a certain groove, they must of necessity be - turned in the direction of the young woman herself. - </p> - <p> - He soon found, however, that it is one thing for a man to prove to the - satisfaction of his own intelligence that it would be impossible that he - should set his heart on a particular young woman, but quite another to - shut her out from his heart. He had his heart to reckon with, though he - did not know it. - </p> - <p> - Before the day had passed he had shut the doors of his heart, and he - believed that he had done right. He did not know that he had shut those - doors, not against her, but upon her. - </p> - <p> - Like all men who have accomplished great things in the world, he was - intensely human. His sympathy flowed forth for his fellow-men in all - circumstances of life. But he did not know himself sufficiently well to - understand that what he thought of with regret as his weaknesses, were - actually those elements wherein lay the secret of his influence with men. - </p> - <p> - He had just succeeded, he fancied, in convincing himself that it was - impossible he could ever have entertained a thought of Nelly Polwhele as - the one who could afford him the companionship which he craved, when a - letter came to him from Mr. Hartwell, whom he had appointed the leader of - the class which he had established at Porthawn, entreating him to return - to them, as they were in great distress and in peril of falling to pieces, - owing to the conduct of one of their members, Richard Pritchard by name. - </p> - <p> - Could he affirm that the sorrow which he felt on receiving this news was - the sum of all the emotions that filled his heart at that moment? - </p> - <p> - He laid down the letter, saying, - </p> - <p> - “It is the Lord's doing.” - </p> - <p> - And when he said that, he was thinking, not of the distress in which his - children at Porthawn found themselves by reason of Richard Pritchard, but - of the meaning of the summons to himself. - </p> - <p> - “It is the trial to which my steadfastness is to be put,” he said. “I am - not to be allowed to escape without scathe. Why should I expect to do so - when others are tried daily? There can be no victory without a battle. The - strength of a man is developed by his trial. I am ready. Grant me grace, O - Lord, to sustain me, and to keep my feet from straying!” - </p> - <p> - He prepared himself for this journey back to Porthawn, and he was - presently amazed (having been made aware of his own weakness) to find - himself thinking very much less about himself and scarcely at all about - Nelly Polwhele, nor that the chance of seeing her again had, without the - least expectation on his part, came to him. He found himself giving all - his thoughts to the question of his duty. Had he been over-hasty in - accepting the assurances of all these people at Porthawn to whose souls - peace had come through his preaching? Was he actuated solely by a hope to - spread abroad the Truth as he had found it, or had a grain of the tares of - Self been sown among the good seed? Had there been something of vanity in - his desire to increase the visible results of his preaching? - </p> - <p> - These were his daily questionings and soulsearching, and they had been - ever present with him since he had put his hand to the plough. He was ever - apt to accuse himself of vainglory—of a lack of that spirit of - humility which he felt should enter into every act—every thought of - his life. He thought of himself as the instrument through which his Master - spake to His children. Should the harp vaunt itself when a hand sweeps - over its strings, making such music as forces those who hear to be joyful - or sad? Should the trumpet take credit to itself because through its tubes - is blown the blast that sends an army headlong to the charge? - </p> - <p> - After his first preaching in the valley of the Lana, hundreds of those who - heard him had come to him making a profession of the Faith that he - preached. He asked himself now if it was not possible that he had been too - eager to accept their assurance. He had had his experiences of the - resultat the emotions of his listeners being so stirred by his preaching - that they had come to him with the same glad story; but only to become - lukewarm after a space, and after another space to lapse into their former - carelessness. The parable of the Sower was ever in his mind. The quick - upspring-ing of the seed was a sign that it had fallen where there was no - depth of earth. And this sowing was more hopeless than that on stony - ground—than that among thorns. - </p> - <p> - He feared that he had been too hasty. He was a careless husbandman who had - been too ready to assume that a plentiful harvest was at hand, because he - had sown where there was no depth of earth. He should have waited and - watched and noted every sign of spiritual growth before leaving the field - of his labours. - </p> - <p> - These were some of his self-reproaches which occupied all his thoughts - while making his return journey to Porthawn, thus causing all thought of - Nelly Polwhele to be excluded from his mind. He had caught a glimpse of - the Lana winding its way through the valley before he had a thought of - her, and then it was with some bitterness that he reflected that, all - unknown to himself, he had shortened his stay in this region because he - had had an instinct that a danger would threaten him if he were to remain. - Instinct? Now he was dealing with a force that was wholly animal—wholly - of the flesh, and the flesh, he knew, was waging perpetual war with the - things that appertained to the spirit. - </p> - <p> - He urged his horse onward. Whatever danger might threaten himself by his - returning to this region, he would not shrink from it; what was such a - danger compared with that threatening the edifice of Faith which he had - hoped had been built up in the midst of the simple people of the land? - </p> - <p> - He urged his horse forward, and on the afternoon of the second day of his - journey he was within a few hours' journey of Ruthallion Mill. He meant to - call at the Mill, feeling sure that he would get from the miller a - faithful and intelligent account of all that had happened during the three - weeks of his absence from this neighbourhood. Miller Pendelly, once the - champion of the old system of lifeless churchgoing, had become the zealous - exponent of the new. He was the leader of the little band that formed the - nucleus of the great organisation of churchmen who, under the teaching of - Wesley, sought to make the Church the power for good among the people that - it was meant to be. Jake Pullsford, who had spread the story of Wesley's - aims among his friends before the preacher had appeared in Cornwall, had - given evidence of the new Light that had dawned upon him when he had heard - Wesley at Bristol. Both these were steadfast men, not likely to cause - offence, and if Wesley had heard any report of their falling short of what - was expected of them he would have been more than disappointed. - </p> - <p> - It was through Richard Pritchard, the professional water-finder, that - offence had come or was likely to come, Mr. Hartwell's letter had told - him. He remembered the man very clearly. He had had some conversation with - him, and Jake had satisfied him as to the sincerity of his belief. He had - never been otherwise than a clean-living man, and he had studied many - theological works. But he had not impressed Mr. Wesley as being a person - of unusual intelligence. His remarkable calling and the success with which - he practised it all through the West had caused Him to appear in the eyes - of the people of the country as one possessing certain powers which, - though quite legitimate, being exercised for good, were bordering on the - supernatural. Wesley now remembered that he had had some doubt as to the - legitimacy of the man's calling. Believing, as he did, so fully in the - powers of witchcraft, he had a certain amount of uneasiness in accepting - as a member of the little community which he was founding, a man who used - the divining rod; but the simplicity of Pritchard and his exemplary - character, were in his favour, so much as to outweigh the force of. - Wesley's objection to his mode of life. - </p> - <p> - Now, as he guided his horse down the valley road, he regretted bitterly - that he had allowed his misgivings to be overcome so easily. Like all men - who have accomplished great things in the world, the difficulties which - occasionally beset him were due to his accepting the judgment of others, - putting aside his own feelings or tendencies, in certain matters. The - practice of the virtue of humility, in regard to his estimation of the - value of his own judgment, had cost him dearly upon occasions. - </p> - <p> - It was all the more vexatious to reflect that the man through whom the - trouble (whatever it might be) was impending, was the last one in the - world from whom any trouble might reasonably be looked for. This was - probably the first time in his life that he had reached any prominence in - the little circle in which he lived. To be allowed to remain in the - background, seemed to be his sole aspiration. His fear of giving offence - to anyone seemed to be ever present with him, and his chief anxiety was to - anticipate an imaginary offence by an apology. How a man who was so - ludicrously invertebrate should become a menace to the stability of a - community that included such robust men as the miller, the carrier, and - the smith, to say nothing of Farmer Tregenna and Mr. Hartwell, the mine - owner, was more than Wesley could understand. It was this element of - mystery that caused him to fear that Pritchard had all along been an agent - of the Enemy—that his noted successes with the divining rod were due - to his connection with the Powers of Darkness, and that his getting within - the fold of the faithful was, after all, only what might have been - expected from one whose tactics were devised for him by the Old Serpent—the - origin of every evil since the expulsion from Paradise. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e spent an hour at - the Old Waggoner Inn at the corner of the River Road, and while his horse - was getting a feed in the stable he had some bread and cheese in the inn - parlour—a large room built to accommodate the hungry coach - passengers, who, accustomed to break their journey to or from Plymouth, - were at this house. - </p> - <p> - The room was not crowded when he arrived, but in the course of the next - half-hour two additional parties entered, and while tankards were filled - and emptied, and pewter platters of underdone beef laden with pickles were - passed round, there was a good deal of loud talk, with laughter and an - interchange of friendly, if rude, humour. Wesley had had a sufficient - experience of inn parlours to prevent his being greatly interested by the - people here or their loud chat. - </p> - <p> - This was only at first, however, for it soon became clear to him that the - conversation and the jests were flowing in one channel. Then he became - interested. - </p> - <p> - “Come hither, friend Thomas, and pay all scores,” cried one jovial young - fellow to an elderly stout farmer who had been standing in the bar. - </p> - <p> - “Not me, lad,” cried the farmer. “By the Lord Harry, you've the - 'impidence'!”. - </p> - <p> - “What, man, pay and look joyous. What will all your hoard of guineas be to - you after Monday?” cried the younger man. - </p> - <p> - “'Twill be worth twenty-one shillings for every guinea, if you must know,” - replied the farmer. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir, you know well that there will be no use for your guineas at the - Day of Judgment, which, as surely as Dick Pritchard is a prophet, will - happen on Monday,” said the other. - </p> - <p> - “I'm ready to run the chance, i' the face o' the Prophet Pritchard,” said - the farmer. “Ay, and to show what's in me, I am ready 'twixt now and - Sunday to buy any property at a reasonable discount rate that any believer - in Dick Pritchard may wish to sell.” - </p> - <p> - “Good for you, farmer—good for you!” shouted a dozen voices, with - the applause of rattling pewters on the table. - </p> - <p> - “Let Dick stick to his trade—water and not fire is his quality; he'd - best leave the Day of Judgment in subtler hands,” growled a small, - red-faced man, who was cooling himself this Summer day with Jamaica rum. - </p> - <p> - There was some more laughter, but it was not of a hearty sort; there was a - forced gaiety in it that Wesley easily detected. - </p> - <p> - “By my troth, the fellow's prophecy hath done a good turn to the maltster; - there hath been more swilling, hot and cold, since he spoke a week ago - yesterday, than in any month of ordinary calm weather, without a sniff of - brimstone in it,” said Mr. Hone, the surgeon of the revenue men, who was - in the act of facing a huge beef-steak with onions and a potato baked with - a sauce of tansy. - </p> - <p> - “Small blame to the drouthy ones; they know full well that by this day - week they will be ready to pay Plymouth prices for a mugful o' something - cooling,” remarked a traveller. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen and friends, all, I make bold enough to affirm that this matter - is too grave an one to be jested on or to be scoffed at,” said a tall, - pale-faced young man. “I tell you, sirs, that there may be more in this - thing than some of us suspect.” - </p> - <p> - “What, Mr. Tilley, are you feeble enough to believe that an event of such - considerable importance to the Government as the Day of Judgment would be - announced through such an agent? This Dick Pritchard is a common man, as - full of ignorance as a young widow is of tricks,” said the surgeon, - looking up from his plate. - </p> - <p> - “Ignorant? ay, doubtless, Mr. Hone; but how many ignorant men have yet won - an honourable place in the book of the prophets, sir?” asked the young - man. “Seems to any natural man, sir, that ignorance, as we call ignorance, - was the main quality needful for an ancient old prophet that spake as he - was moved.” - </p> - <p> - “That was in the Antique Dispensation, Mr. Tilley; you must not forget - that, sir,” cried the surgeon. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, that's sure; 'tis a different age this that we live in,” said an - acquiescent voice behind the shelter of a settle. - </p> - <p> - “I'd as lief credit a Christian as a Jew in such a matter: the Jews seem - to have had this business of prophecy as exclusive in their hands as they - have the trade of money now,” said the traveller. “The Jewish seers busied - themselves a good deal about the Day of Judgment, why should not a humble - Christian be permitted a trifle of traffic on the same question, since it - is one that should be of vital interest to all—especially innkeepers - in hot weather?” - </p> - <p> - There was only a shred of laughter when he had spoken. It was clear that - in spite of some of the jeers against the water-finder that had taken - place in the room, there was a feeling that whatever he had taken it upon - him to say—it seemed to Wesley that it had reference to the Day of - Judgment on the next Monday—should not be treated with levity. The - jocular tone of a few men who were present was distinctly forced. Upon - several faces Wesley perceived an expression that reminded him of that - upon the faces of some of the prisoners under sentence of death whom he - had visited in his young days at Oxford. - </p> - <p> - “Say what you will, gentlemen,” resumed the young man called Tilley, “this - Dick Pritchard is no ordinary man. I have seen him at work with his - wizard's wand', and inside five minutes o' the clock he had shown us where - to bore for water in a meadow slope that was as deeply pitted before with - borings as if it had an attack of smallpox. Ay, sirs, a hole had been dug - here and another there—and there—and there—” he - indicated with his finger on the floor the locality of the diggings to - which he referred—“but not a spoonful of water appeared. Then in - comes our gentleman with a sliver of willow between his palms, and walks - over the ground. I was nigh to him, and I affirm that I saw the twig twist - itself like a snake between his fingers, jerking its tip, for all the - world like the stumpy head of an adder, first in one direction, anon in - another—I'll swear that it turned, wicked as any snake, upon Dick - himself at one time, so that he jerked his hands back and the thing fell - on the grass, and if it did not give a kind of writhe there, my eyes - played me false. But he picked it up again and walked slowly across the - ground, not shunning in the least as an ordinary man would have done, if - he had his wits about him, the parts that showed the former borings that - had come to naught. 'Twas in full boldness, just between two of the old - holes, that he stopped short, and says he, 'There's your spring, and 'tis - not six foot from the surface. I'll wait to have a mugful, if I don't make - too bold,' says he, 'for'tis strangely drying work, this waterfinding.' - And by my faith, sirs, the fellow had a pitcher of the softest spring - water from that spot before an hour had gone and the rude scum of the - field had been rinsed away.” - </p> - <p> - The silence that followed the man's story was impressive. It seemed as if - the cloud which had been overhanging the company had become visible. No - man so much as glanced at his neighbour, but every one of them stopped - eating or drinking at that moment, and stared gloomily straight in front - of him. Only one man, however, uttered a groan. - </p> - <p> - “Lord have mercy on us!—the rocks and the mountains—the great - and terrible day of the Lord!” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - Then it was that a couple of men passed their hands over their foreheads. - </p> - <p> - “I would sooner see my cattle die of drouth than call in a water-finder,” - said the farmer. “I've oft-times said that he has a partner in his trade. - In my young days, a water-finder was burnt at the stake, for 'twas clearly - proven that he was in league with the Fiend: after drinking o' the water - that he drew from the bowels o' th' earth the husbandman's son was seized - wi' a fit and down he fell like a log and was only saved by the chance of - the curate passing near the farm. Though but a young man, he saw at once - that the boy had been tampered with.'Twas by good luck that he had with - him a snuffbox made of the cedar wood of Lebanon at Jerusalem, where King - Solomon built his temple, and 'tis well known that neither witch nor - warlock can stand against such. Before you could say 'Worm,' the young - parson had made a circle o' snuff around the poor victim, and with a - deadly screech the fiend forsook the boy and 'twas said that it entered - into a young heifer of promise, for she went tearing out of her byre that - same night and was found all over a lather wandering on Dip-stone Sands in - the morning. Ay, they burnt the water-finder at the next 'Sizes, the - testimony being so clear as I say.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis time they burnt Dick Pritchard,” said someone else in a low voice. - “Though I'm not sure that 'tis in the Book that mere water-finding is - heinous.” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe not, but sure a proof o' the gift o' prophecy is burnable in the - New Dispensation,” suggested another. - </p> - <p> - A big man sprang to his feet. His face was pale and his hands were - nervous. He clapped his palms together. - </p> - <p> - “Every man in the room has a tankard with me,” he cried. “I'll pay the - score for all. What use is the blunt to me after Monday? But now is our - time, lads. Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die!” - </p> - <p> - The sentiment was greeted with a loud and harsh laugh by some men, but by - a serious shake of the head by others. A young man started a ribald song. - </p> - <p> - “Shame, sir, shame, a parson's present in the room,” cried an elderly man, - who was seated near Wesley. - </p> - <p> - The lilt was interrupted, and two or three fingers were pointed toward - Wesley, who was half hidden from most of the people in the room. Now he - stood up and faced them all. - </p> - <p> - “Hey, 'tis Wesley the preacher himself!” cried the surgeon, and expressions - of surprise were uttered in various directions. - </p> - <p> - “You have come in good time to superintend the winding up of the world, - Mr. Wesley. Nay, don't be over modest; 'tis one of your own children hath - said it,” said another. “What, sir; would you disown your own offspring?” - </p> - <p> - Wesley had held up his hand twice while the man was speaking. - </p> - <p> - “Friends, I am John Wesley,” he said. “I have come sixty miles and better, - having heard from Mr. Hartwell that I was needed in regard to this same - Pritchard, but having been made acquainted with no points of detail. Sirs, - since I entered this room I have, I believe, learned all that Mr. Hartwell - forbore to tell me, and now I hasten to give you my assurance that I - cannot countenance aught that this man Pritchard said. I deplore most - heartily that he should be so far misled as to take upon him to utter a - statement of prophecy touching the most awful event that our faith as - believers takes a count of. Brethren, we are told that we know not the day - nor the hour when that dread shall fall upon the world. That is the - written Word of the Most High, and any man who, whether under the impulse - of vanity or in the sincere belief that he possesses the gift of prophecy, - is presumptuous, is likely to become a stumbling block and a rock of - offence. That is all that I have to say at this time. I have said so much - in the hope that all who hear me will refrain from attributing to the - influence of my preaching or teaching, an act or a statement which I and - my associates repudiate and condemn.” - </p> - <p> - He inclined his head slowly, and then, picking up his hat, left the room. - But before he reached the door every man in the room had risen - respectfully, though no word was spoken by anyone present. Even after his - departure there was a silence that lasted for several minutes. Everyone - seemed to have drawn a long breath as of relief. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen, I think you may breathe freely once more: the world will last - over Monday after all,” said the surgeon. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, the master has spoken and disowned his pupil,” said another. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe that's because he feels chagrined that he lost the chance that Dick - Pritchard grappled with,” suggested the pale youth. - </p> - <p> - “Boy,” said the traveller, with a contemptuous wave of the hand. “Boy, Mr. - Wesley is a man of learning and a man of parts, not a charlatan in a booth - at a fair.” - </p> - <p> - “Or one with the duck's instinct of seeking for water with a quack—ay, - a quack with a quack,” said the surgeon. - </p> - <p> - “Well, if the world is not to expire on Monday, we would do well to drink - her health, so hey for a gallon of old ale so far as it goes,” cried the - man with the shaking head. - </p> - <p> - The opinion seemed to be all but general, that some sign of hilarity would - not now be so much out of place as it seemed to be a quarter of an hour - earlier, and the landlord was zealous in support of this view. He promised - them a tipple worthy of the name, even if the world were to break up in a - day or two! - </p> - <p> - But long before the company were satisfied Wesley was on his horse riding - slowly down to Ruthallion Mill. - </p> - <p> - He felt deeply pained by his experience in the inn parlour. So this was - what Mr. Hartwell had hinted at in his letter—this assumption of the - divine gift of the prophet by Pritchard. And the subject of his prophecy - was one that every charlatan who had existed had made his own! He himself - could remember more than one such prediction being made by men who were - both ignorant and vain. One of them had afterwards stood in the pillory - and another—the more sincere—had gone to a mad-house. It - seemed to him strange that they should have had a following, but beyond a - doubt their prediction had been widely credited, and the men themselves - had achieved a notoriety which was to them the equivalent to fame. They - had had their followers even after the date which they named in their - prophecies had gone by without any disaster to the world. It seemed that - the people were so glad at escaping that they had no room in their - thoughts for any reproach for the false prophet. - </p> - <p> - He knew, however, that in the case of Richard Pritchard, the same leniency - would not be shown. He knew that his own detractors—and they were - many who regarded his innovations as a direct menace to the Church—would - only be too glad of the chance which was now offered to them of ridiculing - him and his out-of-doors preaching, pointing out, as they most certainly - would, that Richard Pritchard represented the first fruit of his - preaching, and that his assumption of the authority of a prophet was the - first fruit of his Methodism. - </p> - <p> - But it was not only by reason of the possible injury that would be done to - the movement which he had inaugurated in Cornwall that he was vexed. - </p> - <p> - He had been greatly pained to observe the spirit in which the most awful - incident on which the mind of man could dwell was referred to by the men - in the inn parlour—men fairly representative of the people of the - neighbourhood. The Day of Wrath had been alluded to with levity by some, - in a spirit of ridicule by others; while one man had made it the subject - of a wager, and another had made it an excuse for drunkenness! - </p> - <p> - He was grieved and shocked to reflect that it was Pritchard's connection - with his mission that had produced this state of things. He felt certain - that if the man had remained outside the newly founded organisation, he - would not have taken it upon himself to speak as a prophet. - </p> - <p> - But he felt that he could not lay the blame for what had occurred at the - door of anyone whom he had appointed to help him in his work, and who had - advanced the claims of Pritchard, for who could have foreseen that a man - who seemed abnormally modest and retiring by nature should develop such a - spirit? Beyond a doubt the man's weak head had been turned. He had become - possessed of a craving after notoriety, and now that he had achieved it, - he would be a very difficult person to deal with. This Wesley perceived - when he began to consider how to deal with the source of the affair. - </p> - <p> - The most difficult point in this connection was his feeling that the man - was quite sincere in his belief, that upon him the spirit of prophecy had - descended. He felt sure that the man was unaware of the existence of any - motive in his own heart apart from the desire to utter a warning and a - call to repentance to the people of the world, as Jonah the prophet, had - done to the people of Nineveh. - </p> - <p> - That fact, Wesley perceived, made it a matter of great difficulty both to - silence Pritchard, and to hold him up as a charlatan. - </p> - <p> - He was indeed greatly perplexed in mind as he rode down the valley path - leading to the Mill. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>esley could not, - of course, know that Pritchard was at that time in the Mill awaiting his - arrival. But it was the case that the water-finder, learning that the - coming of Mr. Wesley was looked for during the afternoon, had gone to the - Mill early and had rejected the suggestion made by the blacksmith and Jake - Pullsford, that he should not appear in the presence of Mr. Wesley until - he was sent for. He was almost indignant at the hint conveyed to him in an - ambiguous way by Hal Holmes, that it would show better taste if he were to - remain away for the time being. - </p> - <p> - “Take my word for 't, Dick, you'll be brought face to face with him soon - enow,” said Hal. “You'll be wishful that you had ne'er been born or - thought of. Mr. Wesley is meek, but he isn't weak, and 'tis the meek ones - that's the hardest to answer when the time comes, and it always comes too - soon. Before your Monday comes you'll be wishful to hide away and calling - on the mountains to cover ye.” - </p> - <p> - “List to me, Hal; there's naught that will say nay to me when my mind is - made up, and go to face Mr. Wesley I shall,” Dick had replied. - </p> - <p> - The blacksmith folded his big bare arms and looked at him with curiosity - from head to foot. - </p> - <p> - “A change has come o'er a good many of us since Mr. Wesley began to - preach, but what's all our changes alongside yours, Dick Pritchard?” he - said, shaking his head as though he relinquished this task of solving the - problem which had been suggested to him. “Why, you was used to fear and - tremble at the thin noise of your own voice, Dick Pritchard. With these - ears I have heard you make an apology for saying 'Thank ye,' on the score - that you were too bold. But now you are for rushing headlong to meet the - man that you scarce dare lift your hat to a month or two agone.” - </p> - <p> - “I hadn't learned then all that there's in me now, Hal,” replied the - water-finder. “I always did despise myself, being unmindful that to - despise myself was to do despite to Heaven. Doesn't it stand to reason, - Hal, that the greater a man thinks himself, the greater is the honour he - does to his Maker? I think twice as much of God since I came to see what a - man He made in me.” - </p> - <p> - “That's a square apology for conceit, Dick, and I don't think aught the - better of you for putting it forward at this time and in such a case as - this. What, good fellow, would you be at the pains to magnify a man's - righteousness pace for pace with his conceit? At that rate, the greater - the coxcomb the more righteous the man.” - </p> - <p> - Dick was apparently lost in thought for some time. At last he shook his - head gravely, saying: - </p> - <p> - “Not for all cases, Hal, not for all cases. You be a narrow-souled - caviller, I doubt; you cannot comprehend an argyment that's like a crystal - diamond, with as many sides to it as a middling ignorant man would fail to - compute.” - </p> - <p> - “That may be, but I've handled many a lump of sea-coal that has shown as - many sides as any diamond that was ever dug out of the earth, and it seems - to me that your talk is more like the sea-coal than the crystal, Dick, my - friend,” said the blacksmith. “Ay, your many-sided argyments are only fit - to be thrust into the furnace, for all, their sides.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley will comprehend,” said Pritchard doggedly; “though even Mr. - Wesley might learn something from me. Ay, and in after years you will all - be glad to remember that you once dwelt nigh a simple man by name Richard - Pritchard.” - </p> - <p> - “In after years?” cried Hal Holmes. “Why, where are your after years to - come from, if the end of all things is to be on us on Monday?” - </p> - <p> - “Don't you doubt but that 'twill come to an end on Monday,” said the - water-finder, “however you may twist and turn. Be sure that you be - prepared, Hal Holmes. You have been a vain-living blacksmith, I am feared, - and now you side with them that would persecute the prophets. Prepare - yourself, Hal, prepare yourself.” - </p> - <p> - This was the style in which the man had been talking for some time, - astonishing everyone who had known his extreme modesty in the past; and - this was the strain in which he talked when he had entered the Mill, and - found the miller, Jake Pulls-ford and Mr. Hartwell seated together - awaiting the arrival of Wesley. - </p> - <p> - The man's entrance at this time surprised them. They knew he was aware - that Mr. Wesley was returning in haste, owing solely to his, Pritchard's, - having put himself forward in a way that his brethren could not sanction, - and it never occurred to them that he would wish to meet Mr. Wesley at - this time. They were, as was Hal Holmes, under the impression that when - Wesley arrived Pritchard's former character might show itself once more, - causing him to avoid even the possibility of meeting the preacher face to - face. - </p> - <p> - They were soon undeceived. The water-finder was in no way nervous when he - came among them. - </p> - <p> - When he had in some measure recovered from his surprise, the miller said: - “We looked not for thy coming so soon, Dick, but maybe 'tis as well that - thou 'rt here.” - </p> - <p> - “How could I be away from here unless I had hastened to meet Mr. Wesley on - his way hither?” said Pritchard. “I have been trembling with desire to - have his ear for the past week. It is laid on me to exhort him on some - matters that he neglected. These matters can be neglected no longer.” - </p> - <p> - The miller looked at Jake Pullsford, and the latter sat aghast. He was so - astounded that he could only stare at Pritchard, with his hands on his - knees and his head in its usual poise, craning forward. Some moments had - passed before he succeeded in gasping out, after one or two false starts: - </p> - <p> - “You—you—you—Dick Pritchard—you talk of exhorting - Mr. Wesley? Oh, poor fellow! poor fellow! Now, indeed, we know that you - are mad!” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley should ha' found out the gift that is mine,” said Pritchard, - quite ignoring the somewhat frank utterance of the carrier. “I suspected - myself during several months of having that great gift of prophecy.'Twas - no more than a suspicion for some time, and I dare not speak before I was - sure.” - </p> - <p> - “And what made thee sure, Dick?” asked the miller. - </p> - <p> - “'Twas reading how the great prophet, Moses, made water flow from the - rock,” replied Pritchard. “'What,' said I to my own self. 'What, Richard - Pritchard, hath not all thy life been spent in performing that great - miracle of Moses, and hast not known the greatness of thy gift?' And then - I made search and found that water-finding has been the employment of most - of the great prophets, Elijah being the foremost. Like to a flash from a - far-off cannon gun, that reaches the eyes before ever the sound of the - boom comes upon the ear, the truth was revealed to me. I knew then that - the gift of the Tishbite was mine.” - </p> - <p> - It was Jake Pullsford who now looked at the miller. The miller shook his - head. - </p> - <p> - “'Twould not matter much what you thought of yourself, Dick,” said the - miller, “if only you had not been admitted to our fellowship; but things - being as they be—-” - </p> - <p> - He shook his head again. - </p> - <p> - “What overcomes me is the thought of thy former habit of life, Dick,” said - the carrier. “Why, up to a month agone, a man more modest, shy and tame - speaking, wasn't to be found in all the West Country. Why, man, I've seen - thee sweat at the sound of thine own voice, like as if thou hadst been a - thief a-hearing o' the step of an officer! Meek! Meek is no name for it! I - give thee my word that it oft made me think shame of all manhood in the - world to hear thee make apology for a plain truth that, after all, thou - wast too bashful to utter!” - </p> - <p> - “You could not see my heart, Miller,” said Pritchard. “'Twas only that I - was humble in voice; I know now that in spirit I was puffed up with pride, - so that I could hardly contain myself. But even after the truth came upon - me in that flash, I was ready to treat the likes of you, Miller—ay, - even the likes of thee, Jake Pullsford, as mine equal, so affable a heart - had I by birth.” - </p> - <p> - “You promoted yourself a bit, Dick,” remarked the miller. “But I've always - observed that when a man tells another in that affable way that he regards - the other as his equal, he fancies in the inwardness of his heart, that he - is far above the one he gives such an assurance to.” - </p> - <p> - “I feel a sort of light of knowledge within me ready to break forth and - tell me a wonderful reply to that remark of yours, Miller,” said - Pritchard. “Tarry a while, and give me time for the light to-break forth - with fulness, and you'll be rewarded; friends, you will hear a reply that - will make you all stand back in amaze, and marvel, as I have done, how - noble a thing is the gift of speech—saying a phrase or two that - makes the flesh of man tingle. All I ask is time. It may not come to me - within the hour, but——” - </p> - <p> - “Here's one that hath come to thee, my man, and he will listen to all you - have to say: I hear the sound of his horse on the lane,” cried the miller. - </p> - <p> - Jake Pullsford sprang from the settle, and strained himself to look out of - the window. - </p> - <p> - “Right; 'tis Mr. Wesley, in very deed,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “That's as should be,” cried Pritchard, with an air of satisfaction that - made the others feel the more astonished. - </p> - <p> - And when Wesley had entered and greeted his-friends, including the - water-finder, they were a good deal more astonished at the attitude taken - by Pritchard. Without wasting time over preliminaries, he assumed that - Wesley had come to the Mill in order not to admonish him, but to be - admonished by him. Before Mr. Wesley had time to say more than a word, - Pritchard had become fluent on the subject of the preacher's - responsibilities. It was not for Mr. Wesley to go wandering in the - uttermost parts of Cornwall, he said; he should have remained at Porthawn - to consolidate the work that he had begun; had he done so until he had - gathered in every soul, the Lord might have been as merciful to the world - as He had been to Nineveh in the days of Jonah. But Mr. Wesley had, like - Jonah, fled from his duty, and the next Monday was to be the Day of - Judgment. - </p> - <p> - Wesley listened gravely until the man got upon his feet and with an - outstretched finger toward him, cried: - </p> - <p> - “I have been mocked by some, and held in silent despite by others—all - of them professing to be of the Household of Faith, because the Spirit of - prophecy came upon me, and I announced the truth. Nor, Mr. Wesley, will - you dare to join with the disbelievers and say straight out that the first - Monday will not be the Last Day that will dawn on this world?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Wesley, “I would not be so presumptuous as to lay claim to any - knowledge that would entitle me to speak on a subject of such awful - import. '<i>Ye know not the day nor the hour</i>'—those were the - words of our Lord, and anyone who makes profession of knowing either, - commits a grievous sin.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, anyone but me,” said Pritchard. “But the revelation was made to me—I - take no glory to myself. The great and terrible Day of the Lord cometh - next Monday, and they shall cry unto the rocks to fall on them and the - mountains to cover them. What other place could that refer to if not - Ruthallion and Porthawn; is't not that Buthallion is in the heart of the - hills and Porthawn the place of rocks?” - </p> - <p> - With all gentleness Wesley spoke to the man of the great need there was - for caution on the part of anyone venturing to assign times and seasons to - such prophecies as had been uttered respecting the mystery of the Last - Judgment. He tried to show him that however strong his own conviction was - on the subject of the Revelation, he should hold his peace, for fear of a - mistake being made and enemies being afforded a reason for railing against - the cause which they all had at heart. The interpretation of prophecy, he - said, was at all times difficult and should certainly not be lightly - attempted even by those men who had spent all their lives dealing with the - subject, with the light of history to guide them. Nothing could exceed the - tact, patience and gentleness with which the pastor pleaded with this - erring one of his flock—the miller and Jake Pullsford were amazed at - his forbearance; they learned a lesson from him which they never forgot. - He was patient and said no word of offence all the time that they were - waxing irritable at the foolishness of the man who sat shaking his head - now and again, and pursing out his lips after the manner of pig-headed - ignorance when objecting to the wisdom of experience. - </p> - <p> - It was all to no purpose that Wesley spoke. The man listened, but - criticised with the smile of incredulous superiority on his face almost - all the time that Wesley was speaking—it varied only when he was - shaking his head, and then throwing it back defiantly. It was all to no - purpose. - </p> - <p> - “You are right, Mr. Wesley, in some ways,” he cried. “But you talk of the - interpretation of prophecy. Well, that is within your sphere, and I - durstn't stop you so far. Ay, but I am not an interpreter of prophecy—I - am the very prophet himself. Friends, said not I the truth to you this - hour past—how I felt as it were a burst of flame within me, whereby - I knew that I had been possessed of the spirit of prophecy? The gift of - water-finding, which has been mine since my youth, was only bestowed upon - the major prophets, Moses being the chief; and when I read of Elijah, who - in the days of the grievous water famine was enabled by the exercise of - his gift, and guided by the hand of the Lord, to find water—even the - running brook Chereth—in the midst of a land that was dusty dry, all - unworthy doubt was set at rest. Is it not written that Elijah, the - prophet, was to come back to earth to warn the people of the Great Day - being at hand?” - </p> - <p> - “Dear friend, stay thy tongue for a moment—say not words that might - not be forgiven thee even by the Most Merciful,” cried Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “You are a great preacher and a faithful servant—up to a certain - point, Mr. Wesley; but you are not as I am,” replied Pritchard firmly, but - not without a tone of tenderness. “You are a preacher; I am the prophet. I - have spoken as Jonah spoke to the men of Nineveh: 'Yet forty days and - Nineveh shall be overthrown.' 'In eleven days the world shall be - overthrown,' said I, feeling the flame within me.” - </p> - <p> - “The people of Nineveh repented and the destruction was averted,” said - Wesley. “Have there been signs of a great repentance among the people who - got tidings of your prediction?” - </p> - <p> - “My prophecy has everywhere been received with ridicule,” replied the man - proudly. - </p> - <p> - “I can testify to that,” said Jake Pullsford. “I travel about, as you - know, and I hear much of what is talked over from here to Devon, and only - for a few light-headed women—ready to believe that the moon was the - sun if they were told so from the pulpit—only for these, it might be - said that Dick's foolishness would ha' fallen on ears as deaf as an - adders.” - </p> - <p> - “I, myself, can bear witness to the evil effect that has been produced - among a people who were, I hoped, ready for the sowing of the good seed,” - said Wesley. “It was a great sorrow to me to hear the lightness of talk—the - offer of wagers—the excuse of drunkenness—all the result of - Richard Pritchard's indiscretion.” - </p> - <p> - “And everywhither it has been received as coming from us—from us - whom you have instructed in the Truth, sir,” said Jake. “'Tis not Dick - Pritchard that has been ridiculed, but we whom they call Methodists. That - is the worst of it.” - </p> - <p> - “And now that I have paved the way for you, the preacher, Mr. Wesley, you - will be able for three days to exhort the people to repentance,” said - Pritchard, with the air of a man accustomed to give advice on grave - matters, with confidence that his advice would be followed. - </p> - <p> - “My duty is clear,” said Wesley. “I shall have to disclaim all sympathy - with the statements made by Richard Pritchard. Souls are not to be - terrorised to seek salvation. I am not one of those ministers who think - that the painting of lurid pictures of the destruction of the earth and - all that is therein the best way of helping poor sinners. Nay, there have - come under mine own eyes many instances of the very temporary nature of - conversions brought about by that paradox of the gospel of terror. But - need we look for guidance any further away than the history of Jonah and - the Ninevites? The prophet preached destruction, and the people repented. - But how long did the change last? The fire and brimstone had to be rained - down upon them before the sackcloth that they assumed was worn out.” - </p> - <p> - “On Monday the fire and brimstone will overwhelm the whole world, and woe - be to him that preacheth not from that text till then!” cried Pritchard. - He was standing at one end of the table facing the window that had a - western aspect, and as he spoke, the flaming beams of the sinking sun - streamed through the glass and along the table until they seemed to - envelop him. In spite of the smallness of his stature he seemed, with the - sunbeams striking him, to possess some heroic elements. The hand that he - uplifted was thin and white, and it trembled in the light. His face was - illuminated, not from without only; his eyes were large and deep, and they - seemed staring at some object just outside the window. - </p> - <p> - Watching him thus, everyone in the room turned toward the window—Wesley - was the only exception; he kept his eyes fixed upon the man at the foot of - the table. He saw his eyes move as if they were following the movements of - someone outside, and their expression varied strangely. But they were the - eyes of a man who is the slave of his nerves—of a visionary who is - carried away by his own ill-balanced imagination—of the mystic who - can see what he wishes to see. - </p> - <p> - Wesley was perplexed watching this man whose nature seemed to have - completely changed within the month. He had had a good deal of strange - experience of nervous phases, both in men and women who had been overcome - by his preaching, but he had never before met with a case that was so - strange as this. The man was no impostor; an impostor would have been easy - to deal with. He was a firm believer in his own mission and in his own - powers, and therein lay the difficulty of suppressing him. - </p> - <p> - And while Wesley watched him, and everyone else seemed striving to catch a - glimpse of the object on which the man's eyes were fixed, the light - suddenly passed out of his eyes and they became like those of a newly dead - man, staring blankly at that vision which comes before the sight of a soul - that is in the act of passing from the earth into the great unknown Space. - There he stood with his hand still upraised, and that look of nothingness - in his staring eyes.. - </p> - <p> - Wesley sprang up from the table to support him when he fell, and he - appeared to be tottering after the manner of a man who has been shot - through the heart while on his feet; and Wesley's movement caused the - others to turn toward the man. - </p> - <p> - In a second the miller was behind him with outstretched arms ready to - support him. Pritchard did not fall just then, however. Breathlessly and - in a strained silence, the others watched him while he swayed to the - extent of a hand's breadth from side to side, still with his hand upraised - and rigid. For some minutes—it might have been five—he stood - thus, and in the end he did not collapse. He went slowly and rigidly - backward into Wesley's arms, and then down into his own chair, his eyes - still open—still blankly staring, devoid of all expression. - </p> - <p> - “Dead—can he be dead?” whispered Jake, slipping a hand under his - waistcoat. - </p> - <p> - Wesley shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “He is not dead, but in a trance,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or half an hour - the four men in that room sat watching with painful interest the one who - sat motionless in the chair at the end of the table. There was not one of - them that had not a feeling of being a watcher by the side of a bed on - which a dead body was lying. Not a word was exchanged between them. In the - room there was a complete silence—the silence of a death chamber. - The sound of the machinery of the mill—the creaking of the wooden - wheels, and the rumbling of the grindstones—went on in dull monotony - in the mill, and from the kitchen, beyond the oaken door, there came the - occasional clink of a pan or kettle; and outside the building there was - the clank of the horses of a waggon, and the loud voices of the waggoners - talking to the men in one of the lofts, and now and again directing the - teams. A cock was crowing drowsily at intervals in the poultry run, and - once there was a quacking squabble amongst the ducks on the Mill race. And - then, with the lowing of the cows that were being driven to the milking - shed, came the laughter of a girl, passing the waggoners. - </p> - <p> - But in the room there was silence, and soon the dimness of twilight. - </p> - <p> - And then John Wesley prayed in a low voice. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - Enough light remained in the room to allow those watchers to see when - consciousness returned to the man's eyes: he was facing the window. But - before the expression of death changed to that of life, his arm, that was - still stiffly outstretched, and seeming all the more awkward since he had - ceased to be on his feet, fell with a startling thud upon the edge of the - table. It was as if a dead man had made a movement. Then his eyes turned - upon each in the room in turn. He drew a long breath. - </p> - <p> - “You are among friends, Dick; how feel you, my man?” said Jake Pullsford, - laying his hand upon Pritchard's that had fallen upon the table. - </p> - <p> - “I saw it again—clear—quite clear, Jake,” said Pritchard. - </p> - <p> - “What saw ye, friend Dick?” asked Jake. - </p> - <p> - “The vision—the Vision of Patmos. The heavens rolled together like a - scroll—blackness at first—no mind o' man ever conceived of - such blackness—the plague of Egypt was snow-white to compare. And - then 'twas all flame—flame—flame. The smith's furnace hath but - a single red eye of fire, but its sharp brightness stings like a wasp. But - this—oh, millions upon millions of furnace eyes, and every eye - accusing the world beneath. Who can live with everlasting burning?—that - was what the Voice cried—I know not if it was the strong angel, or - him that rode upon the White Horse, but I heard it, and all the world - heard it, and the most dreadful and most unusuallest thing of all was the - sight of that White Horse, plunging and pawing with all the fiery flames - around it and above and below! And the Voice said, 'There shall be no more - sea,' and forthwith all the tide that had been flowing in hillocks into - Porthawn and teasing the pebbles where the shallows be, and lapping the - Dog's Teeth reef, wimpling around the spikes—all that tide of water, - I say, began to move out so that every eye could see it move, and the - spikes o' the reef began to grow as the water fell, till the bases of the - rocks appeared with monstrous weeds, thick as coiled snakes, and crawling - shells, monstrous mighty that a man might live in; and then I saw the - slime of the deep, thick as pitch and boiling and bubbling with the heat - below, even as pitch boils over the brazier when the boats lie bottom up - on the beach. And then I saw a mighty ship lying in the ooze—a ship - that had become a wreck, maybe a hundred years agone, half the timbers - rotted from the bends so that she was like some monster o' the deep with - its long ridges of ribs showing fleshless as a skeleton. And then the - Voice cried, 'The Sea gave up its Dead.'... You shall see it for - yourselves on Monday—ay, all that came before mine eyes.'Twas Mr. - Wesley preached on the great moving among the dry bones—they were - dry in that valley, but in the dread secret depths where the sea had been - these were damp with the slime of ages, and they crawled together, bone - unto bone, throwing off the bright green seaweeds that overlaid them like - shrouds of thin silk. They stood up together all in the flesh, and I noted - that their skin was the yellow pale skin of the drowned, like the cheeks - of a female who holds a candle in her hands and shades the flame with one - of her palms. Flame—I saw them all by the light of the flaming sky, - and some of them put up their saffron hands between their faces and the - flame, but the light shone through their flesh as you have seen the sun - shine through a sere leaf of chestnut in the autumn.” - </p> - <p> - He stopped suddenly and drew a long breath. For some moments he breathed - heavily. No one in the room spoke. A boy went past the door outside - whistling. - </p> - <p> - When the man spoke again it was in a whisper. He turned to Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley, I knew not that I had the gift until I heard you preach,” he - said. “I only suspected now and again when I felt the twitchings of the - twig between my hands when I was finding the water, that I was not as - other men; but when I heard you preach and saw how you carried all who - listened away upon your words as though they were not words, but a wave of - the sea, and the natural people the flotsam of the waste, I felt my heart - swell within me by reason of the knowledge that I had been chosen to - proclaim something great beyond even all that you could teach. And now - 'tis left for you to stand by my side and tell all that have ears to hear - to prepare for the Great Day. It is coming—Monday. I would that we - had a longer space, Sir, for, were it so, my name would go forth through - all the world as yours has done—nay, with more honour, for a prophet - is ahead of the mere preacher. But you will do your best for the world in - the time allowed to us, will you not, Mr. Wesley?” - </p> - <p> - He laid his hand on one of Wesley's, firmly and kindly. - </p> - <p> - “My poor brother!” said Wesley gently. “God forgive me if I have been the - means of causing hurt to even the weakest of my brethren. Let us live, - dear brother, as if our days in the world were not to be longer than this - week, giving our thoughts not to ourselves, but to God; seeking for no - glory to attach to our poor names, but only to the Name at which every - knee must bow. Humility—let us strive after humility. What are we - but dust?” - </p> - <p> - The man looked at him—there was still some light in the room—and - after the lapse of a few moments he said: - </p> - <p> - “You have spoke a great truth, Mr. Wesley. Humility is for all of us. Pray - that I may attain it, brother. It should come easy enough to some that we - know, but for such as you and me, especially me, dear brother, 'tis not so - easy. The gift of prophecy surely raises a humble man into circumstances - so lofty that he is above the need for any abject demeanour. Ay, now that - I reflect on't, I am not sure that I have any right to be humble. 'Twould - be like flouting a gift in the face of the giver. 'Twould be like a - servant wearing a ragged coat when his master hath provided him with a - fine suit of livery.” - </p> - <p> - He had risen from his place, and now he remarked that the evening had come - and he had far to travel. He gave Wesley his hand, nodded to the others - and went through the door without another word. - </p> - <p> - The men whom he left in the room drew long breaths. One of them—the - farmer—made a sound with his tongue against his teeth as one might - do when a child too young to know better breaks a saucer. The miller gave - an exclamation that went still further, showing more of contempt and less - of pity. Mr. Hartwell, the mine-owner, who was a quiet, well-read man, - said: - </p> - <p> - “I have heard of cases like to his; I have been reading of revivals, as - some call such an awakening as has taken place through Mr. Wesley's - preaching, and every one of them has been followed by the appearance of - men not unlike Dick Pritchard in temper—men who lose themselves in - their zeal—get out of their depth—become seized by an ambition - to teach others before they themselves have got through the primer.” - </p> - <p> - “For me, I call to mind naught but the magic men of Egypt,” said Jake - Pullsford. “They were able to do by their traffic with the Evil One all - that Moses did by miracle. I always had my doubts about the power that - Dick Pritchard professed—finding water by the help of his wand of - hazel—as 'twere a wizard's wand—maybe the staves of the - Egyptian sorcerers were of hazel—I shouldn't wonder. And now he - falls into a trance and says he sees a vision, equalling himself to St. - John at Patmos! For myself I say that I never knew of a truly godly man - falling into a trance. My grandfather—you are old enough to remember - him, farmer?” - </p> - <p> - “I mind him well—pretty stiff at a bargain up to the end,” said the - farmer with a side nod of acquiescence. - </p> - <p> - “We be talking of the same man,” resumed the miller. “Well, I say that he - told me of one such mystical vision seer that came from Dorset in his - young days, and he saw so many things that he was at last tried for - sorcery and burnt in the marketplace. Ah, those were the days when men - wasn't allowed by law to go so far as they do now-a-days. Why, 'tis only - rarely that we hear of a witch burning in these times.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley held up his hand. - </p> - <p> - “I had my misgivings in regard to Pritchard from the first,” he said. “And - when I got news that he had been causing you trouble I felt that he had - indeed been an agent of the Evil One. But now—God forbid that I - should judge him in haste. I scarce know what to think about him. I have - heard of holy men falling into trances and afterwards saying things that - were profitable to hear. I am in doubt. I must pray for guidance.” - </p> - <p> - “The man is to be pitied,” said Mr. Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “You heard the uplifted way he talked at the last—like a fool full - of his own conceit? Have you heard yet, Mr. Wesley, what an effect his - prediction has had upon the country?” - </p> - <p> - “I heard naught of it until I had entered the parlour at the inn where I - dined to-day, but I think I heard enough to allow of my forming some - notion of the way his prediction was received. Some were jocular over it, - a few grave, and a large number ribald.” - </p> - <p> - “You have described what I myself have noticed, sir,” said Mr. Hartwell. - “Only so far as I can see there are a large number who are well-nigh mad - through fear. Now what we may be sure of is that these people, when Monday - passes, will turn out open scoffers at the truth. And you may be certain - that your opponents will only be too glad of the opportunity thereby - afforded them of discrediting your labours; they will do their best to - make Methodism responsible for the foolishness and vanity of that man?” - </p> - <p> - “I perceived that that would be so the moment I got your letter,” said - Wesley. “And yet—I tell you, brethren, that I should be slow to - attribute any imposture to this man, especially since I have heard him - speak in this room. He believes that he has been endowed by Heaven with - the gift of prophecy.” - </p> - <p> - “And he only acknowledges it to boast,” said Mr. Hartwell. “It is his - foolish boasting that I abhor most, knowing, as I do full well, that every - word that comes from him will be used against us, and tend to cast - discredit upon the cause which we have at heart.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley perceived how true was this view of the matter, but still he - remained uncertain what course to adopt in the circumstances. He knew that - it was the fervour of his preaching that had affected Pritchard, as it had - others; he had heard reports of the spread of a religious mania at Bristol - after he had preached there for some time; but he had always succeeded in - tracing such reports to those persons who had ridiculed his services. This - wras the first time that he was brought face to face with one who had been - carried away by his zeal to a point of what most people would be disposed - to term madness. - </p> - <p> - He had known that there would be considerable difficulty dealing with the - case of Pritchard, but he had also believed that the man would become - submissive if remonstrated with. It had happened, however, that, so far - from becoming submissive, Pritchard had reasserted himself, and with so - much effect that Wesley found himself sympathising with him—pitying - him, and taking his part in the face of the others who were apparently but - little affected by the impassioned account the man had given of his vision - when in the trance. - </p> - <p> - It was not until the night had fallen that they agreed with Wesley that it - might be well to wait for a day or two in order that he should become - acquainted with some of the effects of the prediction, and thus be in a - position to judge whether or not he should take steps to dissociate - himself and his mission from the preaching of the man Pritchard. - </p> - <p> - He had not, however, gone further than Port-hawn the next day before he - found out that the impression produced by the definite announcement that - the Day of Judgment was but forty-eight hours off was very much deeper - than he had fancied. He found the whole neighbourhood seething with - excitement over the prophecy. It had been made by Pritchard, he learned, - in the course of a service which had been held in a field on the first - Sunday after Wesley's departure, and it had been heard by more than a - thousand of the people whom Wesley's preaching had aroused from lethargy - to a living sense of responsibility. Religious fervour had taken hold upon - the inhabitants of valley and coast, and under its influence extravagance - and exuberance were rife. Only at such a time would Pritchard's new-found - fervour have produced any lasting impression, but in the circumstances his - assumption of the mantle of the prophet and his delivery of the solemn - warning had had among the people the effect of a firebrand flung among - straw. He had shouted his words of fire to an inflammable audience, and - his picture of the imminent terror had overwhelmed them. The shrieks of a - few hysterical women completed what his prediction had begun, and before - the evening the valley of the Lana was seething with the news that the - world was coming to an end within the month. - </p> - <p> - All this Wesley heard before he left the Mill, and before he had ridden as - far as the coast village he had ample confirmation of the accuracy of the - judgment of his friends, who had assured him that the cause which they had - at heart was likely to suffer through the vanity of Pritchard. He also - perceived that the man had good reason for being puffed up on observing - the effect of his deliverance. In a moment he had leaped into notoriety - from being a nonentity. It seemed as if he had been ashamed of hearing his - own voice a short time before, and this fact only made him appear a - greater marvel to himself as well as to the people who had heard him - assume the character of a prophet of fire and brimstone. It was no wonder, - Wesley acknowledged, that the man's head had been turned. - </p> - <p> - The worst of the matter was that he was referred, to by nearly all the - countryside as Wesley's deputy. Even the most devoted of Wesley's hearers - seemed to have accepted Pritchard as the exponent of the methods adopted - by Wesley to get the ears of the multitude. In their condition of blind - fervour they were unable to differentiate between the zeal of the one to - convey to them the living Truth and the excess of the other. They were in - the condition of the French mob, who, fifty years later, after being - stirred by an orator, might have gone to think over their wrongs for - another century had not a madman lighted a torch and pointed to the - Bastille. - </p> - <p> - It was only to be expected that the opponents of the great awakening begun - by Wesley should point to the extravagance of Pritchard and call it the - natural development of Methodism. Wesley's crusade had been against the - supineness of the Church of England, they said; but how much more - preferable was this supineness to the blasphemy of Methodism as - interpreted by the charlatan who arrogated to himself the power of a - prophet! - </p> - <p> - He was pained as he had rarely been since his American accusers had forced - him to leave Georgia, when he found what a hold the prediction had got on - the people. He had evidence of the extent of Pritchard's following even - during his ride to Port-hawn. At the cross roads, not two miles from the - Mill, he came upon a large crowd being preached to by a man whom he had - never seen before, and the text was the Judgment Day. The preacher was - fervid and illiterate. He became frantic, touching upon the terror that - was to come on Monday; and his hearers were shrieking—men as, well - as women. Some lay along the ground sobbing wildly, others sang a verse of - a hymn in frenzy. - </p> - <p> - Further along the road a woman was preaching repentance—in another - two days it would be too late; and in the next ditch a young woman was - making a mock of her, putting a ribald construction upon what she was - saying. Further on still he came to a tavern, outside which there was a - large placard announcing that the world would only last till Monday, and - having unfortunately a large stock of beer and rum in fine condition, the - innkeeper was selling off the stock at a huge reduction in the price of - every glass of liquor. - </p> - <p> - Wesley had no difficulty in perceiving the man's generosity was being - appreciated. The bar was crowded with uproarious men and women, and some - were lying helpless on the stones of the yard. - </p> - <p> - On the wall of a disused smithy a mile or two nearer the coast there was - chalked up the inscription: - </p> - <p> - “The Methodys have bro' about the Ende of the World. Who will bring about - the Ende of the Methodys? Downe with them all, I saye.” - </p> - <p> - He rode sadly onward, with bowed head. He felt humiliated, feeling that - the object for which he lived was humiliated. - </p> - <p> - And the worst of the matter was, he saw, that these people who were making - a mock of the Truth, some consciously, others unconsciously, were not in a - condition to lend an ear to any remonstrance that might come from him. The - attitude assumed by Pritchard was, Wesley knew, typical of that which - would be taken up by his followers, and the mockers would only be afforded - a new subject for ridicule. - </p> - <p> - “Is it I—is it I who am an unprofitable servant?” he cried out of - the depth of his despondency. “Is it I that have been the cause of the - enemy's blasphemy? What have I done that I should be made a witness of - this wreckage of all that I hoped to see accomplished through my work?” - </p> - <p> - For some time he felt as did the man who cried “It is enough! I am not - better than my fellows.” - </p> - <p> - He let his rein drop on his horse's neck when approaching the house where - he was to be a guest. The day was one of grey mists rolling from the sea - through the valley, spreading wisps of gauze over the higher slopes, which - soon whirled into muslin scarfs with an occasional ostrich plume shot - through with sunshine. At times a cataract of this grey sea vapour would - plunge over the slopes of a gorge and spread abroad into a billowy lake - that swirled round the basin of the valley and then suddenly lifted, - allowing a cataract of sunshine to pour down into the hollows which were - dewy damp from the mist. - </p> - <p> - It was a strange atmosphere with innumerable changes from minute to - minute. - </p> - <p> - “For me the shadows of the mist—the shadows touched by no ray of - sunshine,” he cried when he felt the cold salt breath of the vapour upon - his face. - </p> - <p> - And then he bowed his head and prayed that the shadows might flee away and - the Daystar arise once more to lighten the souls of the people as he had - hoped that they would be enlightened. - </p> - <p> - When he unclosed his eyes, after that solemn space in which a man - stretches out weak hands, “groping blindly in the darkness,” hoping that - they will touch God's right hand in that darkness and be guided into a - right path, he saw the tall figure of a man standing on a crag watching - him. - </p> - <p> - The man had the aspect of a statue of stone looking out of a whirl of - sea-mist. - </p> - <p> - Wesley saw that it was Bennet, the man by whom he had been met when he was - walking through this Talley for the first time with Nelly Polwhele. He had - heard a great deal about the man during the few weeks that he had - sojourned in the neighbourhood. He found that he was a man of some - education—certainly with a far more intimate knowledge of the - classics than was possessed by most of the parsons west of Exeter. He had - been a schoolmaster in Somerset, but his erratic habits had prevented him - from making any position for himself. He had become acquainted with Nelly - Polwhele at Bristol, and his devotion to her amounted almost to a madness. - It was all to no purpose that she refused to listen to him; he renewed his - suit in season and out of season until his persistence amounted to - persecution. Of course Nelly found many self-constituted champions, and - Bennet was attacked and beaten more than once when off his guard. When, - however, he was prepared for their assault he had shown himself to be more - than a match for the best of them. The fact that he had disabled for some - weeks two of his assailants did not make him any more popular than he had - been in the neighbourhood. - </p> - <p> - There he stood looking at Wesley, and there he remained for several - minutes, looking more than ever like a grey stone figure on a rough - granite pedestal. - </p> - <p> - It was not until Wesley had put his horse in motion that the man held up - one hand, saying: - </p> - <p> - “Give me one minute, Mr. Wesley. I know that you are not afraid of me. Why - should you be?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, indeed?” said Wesley. “I know not why I should fear you, seeing that - I fear no man who lives on this earth?” - </p> - <p> - “You came hither with a great blowing of trumpets, Mr. Wesley,” said the - man. “You were the one that was to overthrow all the old ways of the - Church—you were to make such a noise as would cause the good old - dame to awake from her slumber of a century. Well, you did cause her to - awake; but the noise that you made awoke more than that good mother, the - Church of England—it aroused a demon or two that had been slumbering - in these valleys, and they began to show what they could do. They did not - forget their ancient trick—an angel of light—isn't that the - wiliest sorcery of our ancient friend, the Devil, Mr. Wesley?” - </p> - <p> - “You should know, if you are his servant sent to mock me,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “You have taught the people a religion of emotion, and can you wonder that - the Enemy has taken up your challenge and gone far beyond you in the same - direction? He found a ready tool and a ready fool in your ardent disciple - with the comical Welsh name—Richard Pritchard, to wit. He has shown - the people that you were too tame, and the water-finder hath found fire to - be more attractive as a subject than insipid water. You are beaten out of - the field, Mr. Wesley. As usual, the pupil hath surpassed the master, and - you find yourself in the second place.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley sat with his head bent down to his horse's neck. He made no reply - to the man's scoff; what to him was the scoffing of this man? When one is - sitting in the midst of the ruins of his house what matters it if the wind - blows over one a handful of dust off the roadside? - </p> - <p> - “John Wesley, the preacher, hath been deposed, and Pritchard, the prophet, - reigns in his stead,” the man went on. “Ay, and all the day you have been - saying to yourself, 'What have I done to deserve this? What have I done to - deserve this?' Dare you deny it, O preacher of the Gospel of Truth?” - </p> - <p> - Wesley bowed his head once more. - </p> - <p> - “Mayhap you found no answer ready,” Bennet cried. “Then I'll let you into - the secret, John Wesley. You are being rightly punished because you have - been thinking more of the love of woman than of the Love of God.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley's head remained bent no longer. - </p> - <p> - “What mean you by that gibe, man?” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “Ask your own heart what I mean,” said the man fiercely. “Your own heart - knows full well that you sought to win the love of the woman who walked - with you on this road little more than a month ago, and who ministered to - you on the day of your great preaching—you took her love from those - to whom she owed it, and you have cherished, albeit you know that she can - never be a wife to you.” - </p> - <p> - “The Lord rebuke thee,” said Wesley, when the man made a pause. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, 'tis on you that the rebuke has fallen, and you know it, John - Wesley,” cried Bennet, more fiercely than ever. “Nelly Polwhele would have - come to love me in time had not you come between us—that I know—I - know it, I tell you, I know it—my love for her is so overwhelming - that she would not have been able to hold out against it. But you came, - and—answer me, man: when it was written to you that you were to - return hither in hot haste to combat the folly of Pritchard, did not your - heart exult with the thought singing through it, 'I shall see her again—I - shall be beside her once more'?” - </p> - <p> - Wesley started so that his horse sprang forward and the man before him - barely escaped being knocked down. But Bennet did not even pretend that he - fancied Wesley intended riding him down. He only laughed savagely, saying: - </p> - <p> - “That start of yours tells me that I know what is in your heart better - than you do yourself. Well, it hath made a revelation to you now, Mr. - Wesley, and if you are wise you will profit by it. I tell you that if you - think of her again you are lost—you are lost. The first rebuke has - fallen upon you from above.'Tis a light one. But what will the second be? - Ponder upon that question, sir. Know that even now she is softening toward - me. Come not between us again. Man, the love of woman is not for such as - you, least of all the love of a child whose heart is as the heart of the - Spring season quivering with the joy of life. Now ride on, sir, and ask - your reason if I have not counselled you aright.” - </p> - <p> - He had spoken almost frantically at first; but his voice had fallen: he - had become almost calm while uttering his last sentences. - </p> - <p> - He took off his hat, stepped to one side, and pointed down the road. He - kept his arm stretched out and his fingers as an index, while Wesley - looked at him, as if about to make a reply. - </p> - <p> - But if Wesley meant to speak he relinquished his intention. He looked at - the man without a word, and without breaking the silence, urged his horse - forward and rode slowly away. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>ohn Wesley had - ample food for thought for the remainder of his journey. He knew that the - man who had appeared to him so suddenly out of the mist had for some time - been on the brink of madness through his wild passion for Nelly Pol-whele, - which brought about a frenzy of jealousy in respect of any man whom he saw - near the girl. The fierceness of his gibes was due to this madness of his. - But had the wretch stumbled in his blindness over a true thing? Was it the - truth that he, Wesley, had all. unknown to himself drawn that girl close - to him by a tenderer cord than that which had caused her to minister to - his needs after he had preached his first great sermon? - </p> - <p> - The very idea of such a thing happening was startling to him. It would - have seemed shocking to him if it had not seemed incredible. How was it - possible, he asked himself, that that girl could have been drawn to love - him? What was he to attract the love of such a young woman? He was in all - matters save only one, cold and austere. He knew that his austereness had - been made the subject of ridicule—of caricature—at Oxford and - Bath and elsewhere. He had been called lugubrious by reason of his - dwelling so intently on the severer side of life, and he had never thought - it necessary to defend himself from such charges. He was sure that they - were not true. - </p> - <p> - That was the manner of man that he was, and this being so, how was it - possible that he should ever draw to himself the love of such a bright - creature as Nelly Polwhele? What was she? Why, the very opposite to him in - every respect. She was vivacious—almost frivolous; she had taken a - delight in all the gaieties of life—why, the first time he saw her - she had been in the act of imitating a notorious play-actress, and, what - made it worse, she was playing the part extremely well. To be sure she had - taken his reproof with an acknowledgment that it was deserved, and she had - of her own free will and under no pressure from him promised that she - would never again enter a playhouse; but still he knew that the desire for - such gaieties was not eradicated from her nature. It would be unnatural to - suppose' that it was. In short, she had nothing in common with him, and to - fancy that she had seen anything in him to attract her love would be to - fancy the butterfly in rapture around a thistle. - </p> - <p> - Oh, it was incredible that such a thing should happen. The notion was the - outcome of the jealousy of that wretch. Why, the first time that the man - had seen them together had he not burst out on them, accusing him of - stealing away the child's affection, although he had not been ten minutes - by her side? - </p> - <p> - Of course the notion was preposterous. He felt that it was so, and at the - same moment that this conviction came to him, he was conscious of a little - feeling of sadness to think that it was so. The more certain he became on - the matter the greater was the regret that he felt. - </p> - <p> - Was it curious that he should dwell upon what the man had said last rather - than upon what he had said first? But some time had passed before he - recalled the charge that Bennet had brought against him almost immediately - after they had met—the charge of having Nelly Polwhele in his - thoughts rather than the work with which he had been entrusted by his - Maker. The man had accused him of loving the girl, and declared that his - present trouble was the rebuke that he had earned. - </p> - <p> - He had been startled by this accusation. Was that because he did not know - all that was in his own heart? Could it be possible that he loved Nelly - Polwhele? Once before he had asked himself this question, and he had not - been able to assure himself as to how it should be answered, before he - received that letter calling him back to this neighbourhood; and all - thoughts that did not bear upon the subject of that' letter were swept - from his mind. He knew that he heard in his ear a quick whisper that said: - </p> - <p> - “<i>You will be beside her again within four days</i>;” but only for a - single second had that thought taken possession of him. It had come to him - with the leap up of a candle flame before it is extinguished. That thought - had been quenched at the moment of its exuberance, and now he knew that - this accusation brought against him was false; not once—not for a - single moment, even when riding far into the evening through the lonely - places of the valley where he might have looked to feel cheered by such a - thought, had his heart whispered to him: - </p> - <p> - “<i>You will be beside her again within four days</i>.” - </p> - <p> - She had not come between him and the work which he had to do. - </p> - <p> - But now the man had said to him all that brought back his thoughts to - Nelly Polwhele; and having, as he fancied, answered the question which he - put to him respecting her loving him, he found himself face to face with - the Question of the possibility of his loving her. - </p> - <p> - It came upon him with the force of a blow; the logical outcome of his - first reflections: - </p> - <p> - “If I found it incredible that she could have any affection for me because - we have nothing in common, is not the same reason sufficient to convince - me that it is impossible I could love her?” - </p> - <p> - He was exceedingly anxious to assure himself that the feeling which he had - for her was not the love which a man has for a woman; but he did not feel - any great exultation on coming to this logical conclusion of his - consideration of the question which had been suggested to him by the - accusations of Bennet; on the contrary, he was conscious of a certain - plaintive note in the midst of all his logic—a plaintive human note—the - desire of a good man for the love of a good woman. He felt very lonely - riding down that valley of sea-mist permeated not with the cold of the - sea, but with the warmth of the sunlight that struck some of the highest - green ridges of the slopes above him. His logic had led him only into his - barren loneliness, until his sound mental training, which compelled him to - examine an argument from every standpoint, asserted itself and he found - that his logic was carrying him on still further, for now it was saying to - him: - </p> - <p> - “<i>If you, who have nothing in common with that young woman, have been - led to love her, what is there incredible in the suggestion that she has - been led to love you?</i>” - </p> - <p> - Then it was that he was conscious of a feeling of exultation. His own - heart seemed to be revealed to him in a moment. Only for a moment, - however; for he gave a cry, passing his hand athwart his face as if to - sweep away a film of mist from before his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Madness—madness and disaster! The love of woman is not for such as - I—the man spoke the truth. The love of woman is not for me. Not for - me the sweet companionship, the fireside of home, the little cradle from - which comes the little cry—not for me—not for me!” - </p> - <p> - He rode on, and so docile had his mind become through the stern discipline - of years, not once did his thoughts stray to Nelly from the grave matter - which he had been considering when he encountered bennet—not once - did he think even of Bennet. What he had before him was the question of - what steps he should take to counteract the mischief which had been done - and was still being done by the man who had taken it upon him to predict - the end of the world. - </p> - <p> - A change seemed to have come over his way of looking at the matter. - Previously he had not seen his way clearly; the mist that was sweeping - through the valley seemed to have obscured his mental vision. He had been - aware of a certain ill-defined sympathy in regard to the man since he had - shown himself to be something of a mystic; his trance and, his account of - the vision that he had seen had urged Wesley's interest into another - channel, as it were; so that he found himself considering somewhat - dreamily the whole question of the trustworthiness of visions, and then he - had been able to agree with his friends at the Mill who had certainly not - taken very long to make up their minds as to how Pritchard should be dealt - with. - </p> - <p> - Now, however, Wesley seemed to see his way clearly. He became practical in - a moment. He perceived that it was necessary for him to dissociate himself - and his system from such as Pritchard—men who sought to play solely - upon the emotions of their hearers, and who had nothing of the Truth to - offer them however receptive their hearers' hearts had become. He did not - doubt that Pritchard would take credit to himself for the non-fulfilment - of his prophecy. He would bring forward the case of Jonah and Nineveh. - Jonah had said definitely that Nineveh would be destroyed on a certain - day; but the inhabitants had been aroused to repent, and the city's last - day had been deferred. He would take credit to himself for arresting the - Day of Judgment, his prophecy having brought about the repentance of his - neighbours at Porthawn and Ruthallion, and thus the fact of his prophecy - not being realised would actually add to the fame which he had already - achieved, and his harmfulness would be proportionately increased. - </p> - <p> - Wesley knew that not much time was left to him and his friends to take - action as it seemed right to him. The day was Friday, and he would preach - on Sunday and state his views in respect of Pritchard and his following, - so that it should be known that he discountenanced their acts. He had seen - and heard enough during his ride through the valley to let him know how - imminent was disaster to the whole system of which he was the exponent. - </p> - <p> - He had succeeded in banishing from his mind every thought which he had had - in regard to Nelly Polwhele; so that it was somewhat disturbing for him to - come upon her close to the entrance gates to the Court. She was carrying a - wicker bird cage containing two young doves; he heard her voice talking to - the birds before he recognised her. For a moment lie felt that he should - stop his horse and allow her to proceed so far in front of him that she - should reach the village without his overtaking her; but a moment's - reflection was enough to assure him that to act in this way would be - cowardice. He had succeeded in banishing her from his mind, and that gave - him confidence in his own power to abide by the decision to which he had - come respecting her. To avoid her at this time would have been to confess - to himself that he was not strong enough to control his own heart; and he - believed that he was strong enough to do so. Therefore he found himself - once more beside her and felt that he was without a trouble in the world. - </p> - <p> - Of course she became very red when he spoke her name and stooped from his - saddle to give her his hand. She had blushed in the same way an hour - before when old Squire Trevelyan had found her with his daughters and said - a kindly word to her. - </p> - <p> - “I have been to my young ladies,” she said, “and see what they have given - to me, sir.” She held up the cage and the birds turned their heads - daintily in order to eye him. “They were found in a nest by one of the - keepers, and as my ladies are going to London they gave the little birds - to me. I hope they will thrive under my care.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should they not?” he said. “You will be a mother to them and they - will teach you.” - </p> - <p> - She laughed with a puzzled wrinkle between her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Teach me, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, they will teach you, I would fain hope, how becoming is a sober shade - of dress even to the young.” - </p> - <p> - “Do I need to be taught such a lesson, Mr. Wesley?” she cried, and now her - face was in need of such a lesson. She spoke as if hurt by his suggestion. - </p> - <p> - “I have never seen you dressed except modestly and as is becoming to a - young woman,” he replied. “Indeed I meant not what I said to be a - reproach. I only said what came first to mind when I saw those dainty - well-dressed creatures. My thought was: 'Her association with such - companions will surely prevent her from yielding to the weakness of most - young women. She will see that the dove conveys gentleness to the mind, - whereas the peacock is the type of all that is to be despised.' Then, my - dear child, the pair of turtle doves is an emblem of sacrifice.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that why they were chosen as the symbols of love?” said the girl, - after a pause. - </p> - <p> - He looked at her curiously for some time. He wondered what was in her - mind. Had she gone as far as her words suggested in her knowledge of what - it meant to love? - </p> - <p> - “I think that there can be no true love without self-sacrifice,” said he. - “'Tis the very essence—the spiritual part of love.” - </p> - <p> - “Is It so in verity, sir?” she cried. “Now I have ever thought that what - is called love is of all things the most selfish. Were it not so why - should it provoke men to quarrel—nay, the quarrelling is not only on - the side of the men. I have seen sisters up in arms simply because the - lover of one had given a kindly glance to the other.” - </p> - <p> - “To be ready to sacrifice one's self to save the loved one from disaster—from - trouble in any shape or form—that is the love that is true, he - assured of that, Nelly,” said he. “Love, if it be true, will help one to - do one's duty—to our Maker as well as to our fellow-men, and to do - that duty without a thought of whatever sacrifices it may demand. Love, if - it be true, will not shrink from the greatest sacrifice that can be - demanded of it—separation from the one who is beloved—a - dividing asunder forever. That is why it is the noblest part of a man's - nature, and that is why it should not be lightly spoken of as is done - daily.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir,” she said, “that may be the love that poets dream of; I have - read out of poetry books to my ladies at the Court, when they were having - their hair brushed. There was the poet Waller, whom they liked to have - read to them, and Mr. Pope, in places. Mr. Marlowe they had a great regard - for. They all put their dreams of love into beautiful words that would - make the coldest of us in love with love. But for the real thing for daily - life I think that simple folk must needs be content with the homelier - variety.” - </p> - <p> - “There is only one sort of love, and that is love,” said he. “'Tis a - flower that blooms as well in a cottage garden as in the parterres of a - palace—nay, there are plants that thrive best in a poor soil, - becoming stunted and losing their fragrance in rich ground, and it hath - oft seemed to me that love is such a growth.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet I have heard it said that love flies out at the window when - poverty comes in by the door,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “That never was love; 'twas something that came in the disguise of love.” - </p> - <p> - “I do believe that there are many such sham things prowling about, and - knocking at such doors as they find well painted. Some of them have heard - of silver being stored away in old jugs, and some have gone round to the - byres to see exactly how many cows were there before knocking at the - door.” - </p> - <p> - He smiled in response to her smiling. And then suddenly they both became - grave. - </p> - <p> - “Have you had recent converse with that man Bennet?” he asked suddenly. - </p> - <p> - She swung the bird cage so quickly round that the doves were well-nigh - jerked off their perch. She had flushed at the same moment, and a little - frown was upon the face that she turned up to him. - </p> - <p> - “Why asked you that question? Is it because you were speaking of the sham - loves, sir?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “I ask your pardon if I seem somewhat of a busybody, Nelly Polwhele,” he - said. “But the truth is that I—I find myself thinking of you at - times—as a father—as an elder brother might think of—a - sweet sister of tender years.” - </p> - <p> - Now she was blushing rosier than before, and there was no frown upon her - forehead. But she did not lower her eyes or turn them away from his face. - There was about her no sign of the bashful country girl who has been paid - a compliment by one above her in rank. She did not lower her eyes; it was - he who lowered his before her. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis the truth, dear child, that I tell you: I have been strangely - interested in you since the first day I saw you, and I have oft wondered - what your future would be. I have thought of you in my prayers.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not deserve so much from you, sir,” she said softly, and now her - eyes were on the ground, and he knew by the sound of her voice that they - were full of tears. She spoke softly—jerkily. “I do not deserve so - much that is good, though if I were asked what thing on earth I valued - most I should say that it was that you should think well of me.” - </p> - <p> - “How could I think otherwise, Nelly?” he asked. “You gave me your promise - of your own free will, not to allow any further longing after the - playhouse to take possession of you, and I know that you have kept that - promise. You never missed a preaching and you were ever attentive. I do - not doubt that the seed sown in your heart will bear good fruit. Then you - were thoughtful for my comfort upon more than one occasion and—Why - should you not dwell in my thoughts? Why should you not be associated with - my hopes? Do you think that there is any tenderer feeling than that which - a shepherd has for one of his lambs that he has turned into the path that - leads to the fold?” - </p> - <p> - “I am unworthy, sir, I have forgotten your teaching even before your words - had ceased to sound in mine ears. I have not scrupled to deceive. I led on - John Bennet to believe that I might relent toward him, when all the time I - detested him.” - </p> - <p> - “Why did you do that?” he asked gravely. - </p> - <p> - “It was to induce him to come to hear you preach, Mr. Wesley,” she - replied. “I thought that it was possible if he heard you preach that he - might change his ways as so many others have changed theirs, and so I was - led to promise to allow him to walk home with me if he came to the - preaching. I felt that I was doing wrong at the time, though it did not - seem so bad as it does now.” - </p> - <p> - “But you did not give him any further promise?” - </p> - <p> - “None—none whatsoever. And when I found that he was unaffected by - your preaching I refused him even the small favour—he thought it a - favour—which I had granted him before. But I knew that I was - double-dealing, and indeed I have cried over the thought of it, and when I - heard that you were coming back I resolved to confess it all to you.” - </p> - <p> - “I encountered the man not more than half an hour ago,” said he. - </p> - <p> - She seemed to be surprised. - </p> - <p> - “Then he has broken the promise which he made to me,” she cried. “He gave - me his word to forsake this neighbourhood for two months, at least, and I - believed that he went away.” - </p> - <p> - “By what means were you able to obtain such a promise from him?” asked - Wesley. - </p> - <p> - She was silent for some time—silent and ill at ease. At last she - said slowly: - </p> - <p> - “I fear that I was guilty of double dealing again. I believe he went away - with the impression that I would think with favour of him.” - </p> - <p> - “I fear that you meant to convey such an impression to him, Nelly.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot deny it sir. I admit it. But I got rid of him. Oh, if you knew - how he persecuted me you would not be hard on me.” - </p> - <p> - “My poor child, who am I that I should condemn you? I do not say that you - were not wrong to deceive him as you did; the fact that your own - conscience tells you that you were wrong proves that you were.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not desire to defend myself, sir; and perhaps it was also wrong for - me to think as I have been thinking during the past week or two that just - as it is counted an honourable thing for a general in battle to hoodwink - his enemy, so it may not be quite fair to a woman to call her double - dealing for using the wits that she has for her own protection. Were we - endowed with wits for no purpose, do you think, Mr. Wesley?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Wesley, the preacher of austerity, settled his countenance—not - without difficulty—while he kept his eyes fixed upon the pretty face - that looked up innocently to his own. He shook his head and raised a - finger of reproof. He began to speak with gravity, his intention being to - assure her of the danger there was trying to argue against the dictates of - one's conscience. If cunning was the gift of Nature, Conscience was the - gift of God—that was in his mind when he began to speak. - </p> - <p> - “Child,” he began, “you are in peril; you - </p> - <p> - “A woman,” she cried. “I am a woman, and I know that there are some—they - are all men—who assert that to be a woman is to be incapable of - understanding an argument—so that——” - </p> - <p> - “To be a woman is to be a creature that has no need of argument because - feeling is ever more potent than argument,” said he. “To be a woman is to - be a creature of feeling; of grace, of tenderness—of womanliness. If - your conscience tells you that you were wrong to deceive John Bennet, be - sure that you were wrong; but Heaven forbid that I should condemn you for - acting as your womanly wit prompted. And may Heaven forgive me if I speak - for once as a man rather than a preacher. 'Tis because I have spoken so - that I—I—oh, if I do not run away at once there is no knowing - where I may end. Fare thee well, child; and be sure—oh, be sure that - your conscience is your true director, not your woman's wits—and - least of all, John Wesley, the preacher.” - </p> - <p> - He laid his hand tenderly upon her head; then suddenly drew it back with a - jerk as if he had been stung upon the palm. His horse started, and he made - no attempt to restrain it, even when it began to canter. In a few seconds - he had gone round the bend on the road beneath the trees that overhung the - wall of the Trevelyan demesne. - </p> - <p> - He had reached the house where he was to lodge before he recollected that - although he had been conversing with Nelly Polwhele for close upon twenty - minutes—although they had touched upon some topics of common - interest, neither of them had referred even in the most distant way to the - matter which had brought about his return to the neighbourhood; neither of - them had so much as mentioned the name of Pritchard, or referred to his - prophecy of the End of all things. - </p> - <p> - As a matter of fact a whole hour had passed before John Wesley remembered - that it was necessary for him to determine as speedily as possible what - form his protest against the man and his act should take. - </p> - <p> - His sudden coming upon Nelly Polwhele had left a rather disturbing - impression upon him—at first a delightfully disturbing impression, - and then one that added to the gravity of his thoughts—in fact just - such a complex impression as is produced upon an ordinary man when coming - out of the presence of the woman whom he loves, he knows not why. - </p> - <p> - The sum of his reflections regarding their meeting was that while he had - an uneasy feeling that he had spoken too impulsively to her at the moment - of parting from her, yet altogether he was the better of having been with - her. A cup of cool water in the desert—those were the words that - came to him when he was alone in his room. After the horrible scenes that - he had witnessed while riding through the valley—after the horrible - torture to which he had been subjected by the gibes of John Bennet—she - had appeared before his weary eyes, so fresh, so sweet, so gracious! Truly - he was the better for being near her, and once more he repeated the word: - </p> - <p> - “A cup of cool water in the desert land.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>esley lost no time - in announcing to his friends the decision to which he had come. He was to - preach on Sunday at the place where his first meeting had been held, and - he felt sure that his congregation would be sufficiently large for his - purpose, which was to let it be known throughout the country that he and - all those who were associated with him in his work in Cornwall - discountenanced Pritchard in every way. To be sure there was very little - time left to them to spread abroad the news that Mr. Wesley had returned - and would preach on Sunday. Only a single day remained to them, and that - was not enough to allow of the announcement being made outside an area of - twenty-five or thirty miles from Porthawn; but when Mr. Hartwell and Jake - Pullsford shook their heads and doubted if this preaching would bring - together more than a few hundred people, these being the inhabitants of - the villages and hamlets within a mile or two of Porthawn, Wesley - explained that all that was necessary to be done would be accomplished - even by a small congregation. All that should be aimed at was to place it - on record that Pritchard had done what he had done on his own - responsibility and without any previous consultation with the leader of - the movement with which he had been associated. But, of course, the more - people who would be present the more fully his object would be - accomplished, and Wesley's friends sent their message with all speed and - in every direction. - </p> - <p> - “I would fain believe that the news of this distressing folly of - Pritchard's has not spread very far abroad,” said Wesley. “I travelled, as - you know, through a large portion of the country on my return, and yet it - was not until I had reached the head of the valley that the least whisper - of the matter reached me; I would fain hope that the trouble will be only - local.” - </p> - <p> - “Those who are opposed to us will take the best of care to prevent it from - being circumscribed,” said Mr. Hartwell. “The captain of my mine tells me - that there is excitement as far away as Falmouth and Truro over the - prediction. In some districts no work has been done for several days. That - news I had this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis more serious than I thought possible it could be,” said Wesley. “Our - task is not an easy one, but with God's help it shall be fulfilled.” Going - forth through the village in the early afternoon, he was surprised to find - so much evidence of the credence which the people had given to the - prediction and so pronounced a tendency to connect it with the movement - begun by Wesley in the early Summer. It seemed to be taken for granted - that Wesley had come back to urge upon them the need for immediate - repentance. This Pritchard had done with great vehemence ever since he had - prophesied the Great Day. - </p> - <p> - Wesley found his old friends agitated beyond measure—even those who - had professed to have received the Word that he had preached. No boats - except those owned by Nelly Polwhele's father had put off to the fishing - ground for some days, and, strange to say, although Isaac Polwhele held - that Pritchard had gone too far in all that he had said, he returned on - Friday morning from his night's fishing with a strange story of lights - seen in the depths of the Channel—something like fires seething - beneath the surface—of wonderful disturbances of the waters, - although only the lightest of breezes was hovering round the coast; and of - a sudden sound, thunderous, with the noise as of a cataract tumbling in - the distance, followed by the rolling of large waves in spite of the fact - that for the time there was not a breath stirring the air. - </p> - <p> - The old fisherman told his story of these things without any reserve; but - while he was still disposed to give a contemptuous nod when anyone - mentioned Pritchard's name, his experience through that night had done - much to widen Pritchard's influence until at last there seemed to be - neither fisherman nor boat-builder that did not dread the dawning of - Monday. - </p> - <p> - And yet Nelly had not spoken one word about the prophecy when he had - talked with her a few hours before! - </p> - <p> - This circumstance caused Wesley no little surprise. He asked himself if - Polwhele's girl was the only sensible person in the neighbourhood. While - the other people were overwhelmed at the prospect of a catastrophe on - Monday, she had gone to visit her young ladies and brought back with her a - pair of young doves. - </p> - <p> - He began to feel that he had never given the girl credit for some of those - qualities which she possessed—qualities which certainly are not - shared by the majority of womankind. - </p> - <p> - Her father told him before he had reached the village something of the - marvels which had come under his notice only two nights before. But he - tried to make it plain that he did not attach any great importance to - them: he did not regard them as portents, however other people might be - disposed to do so. The old fisherman was shrewd enough to guess that Mr. - Wesley's sympathies were not with Pritchard. Still he could not deny that - what he had seen and heard surpassed all his experience of the Channel, - although he allowed that he had heard of the like from the lips of - mariners who had voyaged far and wide, and had probably been disbelieved - in both hemispheres, by the best judges of what was credible. He had - heard, for instance, of parallels where through long sultry nights the - ocean had seemed one mass of flame. But he himself was no deep-sea sailor. - </p> - <p> - “A sea of flame is common enough in some quarters,” said Wesley. “I myself - have seen the Atlantic palpitating like a furnace, and our ship dashed - flakes of fire from the waters that were cloven by her cut-water. But the - sounds which you say you heard—think you not that they came from a - distant thunderstorm?” - </p> - <p> - “Likely enough, sir, likely enough,” replied the man after a pause; but he - spoke in a way that assured Mr. Wesley that he knew very well that the - sounds had not come from a thunderstorm, however distant. He had had - plenty of experience of thunderstorms, near at hand as well as far off. - </p> - <p> - “Or Admiral Hawke's ships—might not some of the Admiral's fleet have - come within a mile or two of the coast and discharged their carronades?” - Wesley suggested. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, sir, the boom of a ship's gun carries a long way on the water,” said - the fisherman, but in a tone that suggested graver doubt than before. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis clear you are convinced that what you heard was stranger than either - thunder or gunpowder,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir, what I am thinking of is the sudden uprise of the sea,” said - Polwhele. “Without warning our smack began to sway so that the mast - well-nigh went by the board, albeit there was ne'er a draught o' wind. And - there was summat besides that I kept back from all the world.” - </p> - <p> - “A greater mystery still?” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “The biggest of all, sir; after the last rumblings my mates thought that - we had been long enough anchored on the fishing bank; so we got in the - grapple and laid out sweeps to pull the smack to the shore.” - </p> - <p> - He made another pause, and looked into the face of his auditor and then - out seawards. He took a step or two away and stood thoughtfully with - pursed out lips. - </p> - <p> - “And then?” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “And then, sir, then—sir, the oar blades refused to sink. They - struck on something hard, though not with the hardness of a rock or even a - sand bank. 'Twas like as if they had fallen on a floating dead body—I - know what the feel is, sir. When the <i>Gloriana</i>, East Indiaman, went - ashore forty years agone, and broke up on the Teeth—you know the - reef, sir—we were coming on the bodies o' the crew for weeks after, - as they came to the surface, as bodies will after eight days—some - say ten, but I stick to eight.” - </p> - <p> - “But if you came upon the body of a drowned man the night before last you - would surely have reported it, Polwhele,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “It were dead bodies that we touched wi' our blades, but they was the dead - bodies of fishes. There they floated, sir, thick as jelly bags after a - Spring tide—hundreds of them—thousands of them—all round - the boats—big and little—mackerel and cod and congers and - skates and some monsters that I had never seen before, with mighty heads. - They held the boat by their numbers, blocking its course till we got up a - flare o' pitch and held it out on an oar and saw what was the matter. That - was how it came about that we landed with fish up to the gunwale, though - we had hauled in empty seines—or well-nigh empty half an hour - before. And if all the other boats had been out that night they would have - been filled likewise. I tell you, sir, all we picked up made no difference - to the shoals that was about us. But I said no word to mortal man about - this event nor e'en to my own wife. What would be the good? I asks you, - sir. The poor folk be troubled enow over Dick Pritchard, as no doubt you - heard. I would that Tuesday was safe o'er us. List, you can hear the voice - o' Simon Barwell baying the boys into the fold like a sheep dog. Simon was - a sad evil liver before he heard you preach, sir, and now he's telling the - lads that they have only another day and half to repent, so they'd best - not put it off too long.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley looked in the direction he indicated and saw a young fellow mounted - on a fish barrel, haranguing a group of men and women. He was far off, but - his voice every now and again reached the place where Wesley and the old - man stood. - </p> - <p> - “There be some that holds that Simon himself would ha' done well to begin - his repentance a while back,” resumed Polwhele. “And there's some others - that must needs scamp their penitence, if I have a memory at all; - howsomever, Dick Pritchard——” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, friend,” said Wesley, “if I could think that the repentance which is - being brought about through fear of Monday will last, I would take joy to - stand by the side of Pritchard and learn from him, but alas, I fear that - when Monday comes and goes——” - </p> - <p> - “But will it come and go?” cried the old man eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot tell—no man living can tell if to-morrow will come and go, - or if he will live to see the day dawn. We know so much, but no more, and - I hold that any man who says that he knows more is tempting the Lord.” - </p> - <p> - “And I hold with you, Mr. Wesley; only not altogether so fast since those - happenings I have rehearsed to you. What was it slew them fish, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot tell you that. I have heard that some of your mines are pierced - far below the sea, and that for miles out. Perhaps we shall hear that a - store of gunpowder exploded in one of them, throwing off the roof and - killing the fish in the water over it—I do not say that this is the - only explanation of the matter. I make no pretence to account for all that - you saw and heard. I have heard of earthquakes beneath the water.” - </p> - <p> - “Earthquakes in divers places, Mr. Wesley, 'twas from that text Dick - Pritchard preached last Sunday.” The man's voice was lowered, and there - was something of awe in his whisper. “He prophesied that there would be an - earthquake in divers places—meaning the sea—before the coming - of the terrible day, Monday next. Now you know, sir, why I said naught - that was particular—only hazy like—that none could seize hold - upon about Thursday's fishing. But I've told you, Mr. Wesley, whatever may - happen.” - </p> - <p> - He took off his hat and walked away, when he had looked for some moments - into Wesley's face, and noted the expression that it wore. - </p> - <p> - And, indeed, Wesley was perturbed as he turned and went up the little - track that led to the summit of the cliffs, and the breezy space that - swept up to the wood. He was greatly perturbed by the plain statement of - the fisherman. He had been anxious to take the most favourable view of - Pritchard and his predictions. He had believed that the man, however - foolish and vain he might be, had been sincere in his conviction that he - was chosen by Heaven to prophesy the approaching end of all things; but - now the impression was forced upon him that the man was on a level with - the soothsayers of heathendom. - </p> - <p> - Even though he had taken a ludicrously illiterate view of the text, “There - shall be earthquakes in divers places,” he had made it the subject of - another prediction, and it seemed as if this prediction had actually been - realised, although only a single fisherman, and he a friend of - Pritchard's, was in a position to testify to it. - </p> - <p> - Wesley had heard it said more than once that the finding of water by the - aid of a divining rod was a devil's trick; but he had never taken such a - view of the matter; he affirmed that he would be slow to believe that a - skill which had for its object so excellent an object as the finding of a - spring of the most blessed gift of water, should be attributed to the - Enemy. He preferred to assume that the finding of water was the result of - a certain delicacy of perception on the part of the man with the hazel - wand, just as the detection of a false harmony in music is due to a - refinement of the sense of hearing on the part of other men. - </p> - <p> - But was he to believe that any man possessed such a sense as enabled him - to predict an earthquake? - </p> - <p> - It was impossible for him to believe it. And what then was he to think of - the man who had foretold such an event—an event which had actually - taken place within a week of his prediction? - </p> - <p> - The man could only be a soothsayer. The very fact of his corrupting the - text out of the Sacred Word was a proof of this. If he were in the service - of God, he would never have mistaken the word in the text to mean the sea. - The man was a servant of the Evil One, and Wesley felt once more that he - himself had been to blame in admitting him to his fellowship, without - subjecting him to such tests as would have proved his faith. - </p> - <p> - And then he found himself face to face with the further question: If the - man had, by reason of his possession of a certain power, achieved success - in his forecast of one extraordinary event, was it to be assumed that the - other event—the one of supreme importance to the world, and all that - dwell therein—would also take place? - </p> - <p> - What, was it possible that the Arch Enemy had been able to get possession - of the secret which not even the angels in heaven had fathomed, and had - chosen this man to communicate it to some people in the world? - </p> - <p> - What, was it possible that Satan, if he acquired that secret, would allow - it to be revealed, thereby losing his hold upon as many of the people of - the world as became truly repentant, and there was no doubt that Pritchard - had urged repentance upon the people? - </p> - <p> - It was a tangled web that Wesley found in his hand this day. No matter - which end of it he began to work upon, his difficulties in untangling - seemed the same. He was fearful of doing the man an injustice; but how - could he, as a faithful servant, stand by and see the work with which he - had been entrusted, wrecked and brought to naught? - </p> - <p> - And then another point suggested itself to him: what if this prediction - became the means of calling many to repentance—true repentance—how - dreadful would be his own condemnation if he were to oppose that which had - been followed by blessing! - </p> - <p> - It was the flexibility and the ceaseless activity of his mind that - increased the difficulties of his position. He, and he only, could look at - the matter from every standpoint and appreciate it in all its bearings. If - he had not had the refuge of prayer, having faith that he would receive - the Divine guidance, he would have allowed the vanity—if it was - vanity—of Pritchard to be counteracted in the ordinary—in what - seemed to be the natural way—namely, by the ridicule which would - follow the nonfulfilment of his prophecy. - </p> - <p> - He prayed. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e had seated - himself on the trunk of a fallen tree on the edge of the wood, and he had - a feeling that he was not alone. The Summer ever seemed to him to be a - spiritual essence—a beautiful creature of airy flashing draperies, - diffusing perfumes a& she went by. He had known the joy of her - companionship for several years, for no man had ampler opportunities of - becoming acquainted with the seasons in all their phases. - </p> - <p> - There was the sound of abundance of life in the woods behind him, and - around the boles of the scattered trees in front of him the graceful - little stoats were playing. At his feet were scattered all the wild - flowers of the meadow. Where the earth was brown under the trees, myriads - of fairy bells were hanging in clusters, and in the meadow the yellow - buttercups shone like spangles upon a garment of green velvet. He was not - close enough to the brink of the cliffs to be able to see the purple and - blue and pink of the flowers scattered among the coarse herbage of the - rocks. But the bank of gorse that flowed like a yellow river through the - meadow could not be ignored. In the sunlight it was a glory to see. - </p> - <p> - The sky was faintly grey, but the sea was of the brightest azure—the - pure translucent blue of the sapphire, and it was alive with the light - that seemed to burn subtly within the heart of a great jewel. But in the - utter distance it became grey until it mingled imperceptibly with the sky. - </p> - <p> - The poet-preacher saw everything that there was to be seen, and his faith - was upheld as it ever was, by the gracious companionship of nature, and he - cried now: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that a man could speak to men in the language of the Summer!” - </p> - <p> - Why could not all eyes of men look forth over that sea to where the heaven - bowed down and mingled with it? Why could not men learn what was meant by - this symbol of the mystic marriage of heaven and earth? Why should they - continue to refuse the love which was offered them from above? - </p> - <p> - Everything that he saw was a symbol to him of the love of which he was the - herald—the love which is followed by a peace that passeth all - understanding. He was conscious of this peace leaning over him with - outstretched wings, and he felt that the answer to his prayer had come. He - would make no further attempt to solve the difficulties which had - perplexed him. The voice that breathed the message that soothed him was - the same that Elijah heard, and it said: - </p> - <p> - “Rest in the Lord, and He shall direct thy ways.” - </p> - <p> - He remained there for another hour, and then rose and made his way slowly - toward the village. - </p> - <p> - The meadow track led to a broad gap in the hedge of gorse, and just as he - had passed through, he was aware of the quick pattering of a galloping - horse on the short grass behind him, and before he had time to turn, the - horseman had put his mount to the hedge, making a clear jump of it. - </p> - <p> - “What, ho!” cried the man, apparently recognising Wesley before the - horse's feet had reached the ground. “What, ho!” and he pulled the animal - to its haunches. - </p> - <p> - Wesley saw that he was Parson Rodney, the good-humoured Rector who had - spoken to him when he had been on the road with Nelly six weeks before. - </p> - <p> - “Ho, Mr. Wesley, I had heard that you were returning to us,” he cried. “Is - it your thought that at Monday's Assize you will run a better chance if - you are found in good company? What, sir, never shake your head in so - gloomy a fashion. The Prophet Pritchard may be wrong. I was thinking of - him when I came upon a clump of guzzlers reeling along the road an hour - ago—reeling along with the buttercups as yellow as gold under their - feet, and the sunlight bringing out all the scents of the earth that we - love so well—I thought what a pity 'twould be if the world should - come to an end when all her creatures are so happy!” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me, Reverend sir,” said Wesley. “But I have at heart too much - sorrow to enjoy any jest, least of all one made upon a matter that seems - to me far too solemn for jesting.” - </p> - <p> - “Pshaw! Mr. Wesley, what is there serious or solemn in the vapourings of a - jackanapes?” cried the other. “What doth a parson of our church—and - a learned parson into the bargain—a Fellow of his College—not - a dunce like me—what, I say, doth such an one with the maunderings - of a vain and unlettered bumpkin whom his very godfathers and godmothers - made a mark for ridicule when they had him christened Richard—Richard - Pritchard?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir,” said Wesley, “you witnessed what you did an hour ago on the - roadside—you saw what I saw, and yet you can ask me why I should be - troubled. Were not you troubled, Mr. Rodney?” - </p> - <p> - “Troubled? Oh, ay; my horse became uneasy when one of the drunken rascals - yelled out a ribald word or two across the hedge—I am very careful - of my horse's morals, sir; I never let him hear any bad language. When we - are out with the hounds I throw my kerchief over his ears when we chance - to be nigh the Master or his huntsmen. That is why I laid over the - rascal's shoulders with my crop, though the hedge saved them from much - that I intended. Trust me, Mr. Wesley, that is the way such fellows should - be treated, and as for this Pritchard—faugh! a horsewhip on his back - would bring him to his senses, though as a Justice of the Peace, I would - be disposed to let this precious water-finder find what the nature of a - horse-pond is like. Why, in Heaven's name, do you trouble yourself about - him?” - </p> - <p> - “It was I who gave him countenance at first, sir. He made profession to me - and I trusted him. I fear that the work on behalf of which I am very - jealous may suffer through his indiscretion.” - </p> - <p> - “His indiscretion? <i>your</i> indiscretion, you surely mean, Mr. Wesley.” - </p> - <p> - “I accept your correction, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Look ye here, Mr. Wesley, I have more respect for you, sir, than I have - for any man of our cloth—ay, even though he may wear an apron and - lawn sleeves. I know that as a clergyman I am not fit to black your shoes, - but I am equally sure that as a man of the world, with a good working - knowledge of human nature, I am beyond you; and that is why I tell you - that this movement of yours has—well, it has too much movement in it - to prove a lasting thing. You have never ridden to hounds or you would - know that 'tis slow and steady that does it. If you keep up the pace from - the start, you will be blown before the first half-hour is over, and where - will you be when you have a double ditch to hop over? Why, you'll be up to - your neck in the mire of the first. Mr. Wesley, there are a good many - ditches to be got over in the life of a beneficed clergyman of your Church - and mine; and, my word for it, you would do well to take them slowly, and - reserve your strength. You want to go too fast ahead—to rush your - hedges—that's how the thorns in the flesh thrive, and this Pritchard - is only one of the many thorns that will make your life wearisome to you, - and bring your movement to an end. You have never said a hard word about - me, Mr. Wesley, though you had good reason to do so; and I have never said - aught but what is good about you.” - </p> - <p> - “I know it, sir. Others have called me a busybody—some a charlatan.” - </p> - <p> - “They were fools. You are the most admirable thing in the world, sir—a - zealous parson; but a thoroughbred horse is not the best for daily use; a - little blood is excellent, but not too much. Your zeal will wear you out—ay, - and it will wear your listeners out sooner. You cannot expect to lead a - perpetual revival, as people call it, and that's why I am convinced that - the humdrum system, with a stout woollen petticoat here and a bottle of - sound port there, is the best for the parsons and the best for the - people.” - </p> - <p> - “Your views are shrewd, and I dare not at this moment say that they are - not justifiable. But for myself—sir, if God gives me strength, I - shall not slacken the work with which I believe He hath entrusted me—until - our churches are filled with men and women eager in their search after the - Truth.” - </p> - <p> - “If all your friends were like you, the thing might be accomplished, Mr. - Wesley; but the breakdown of your methods—your Methodism—will - come through your introduction of the laity as your chief workers. You - will find yourself face to face with Pritchards, and the last state of the - people will be, as it is now, worse than the first. You may have done some - good since you came here to preach a month ago, but you have—unwittingly, - I say—done great mischief. My parishioners were heretofore living - quite comfortably, they were satisfied with my ministrations, such as they - were. I have heard it said that a healthy man does not know that he has - any liver or spleen or vitals within his body: 'tis only the sick that have - that knowledge. Well, the same is true in respect to their souls. Sir, - there was not a man of my flock that knew he had a soul. There was a - healthy condition of things for you!” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, I entreat of you not to mock!” - </p> - <p> - “I am not mocking, friend Wesley. What have people in the state of life to - which the majority of my parishioners have been called, to do with the - state of their souls? There should be a law that no man below the Game Law - qualification shall assume that he has a soul.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot listen further to you, Mr. Rodney.” - </p> - <p> - “Nay, Mr. Wesley, whatever you be, I'll swear that you are no coward: you - will not run away by reason of not agreeing with an honest opponent—and - I am not an opponent—I am only an honest friend. I say that my - people were simple, homely people who respected me because I never - wittingly awoke a man or woman who went asleep in my church, and because I - never bothered them with long sermons, when they could hear their Sunday - dinners frizzling in their cottages—they respected me for that, but - more because they knew I had a sound knowledge of a horse, a boat, a dog - and a game-cock.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Rodney——” - </p> - <p> - “Pshaw, Wesley, have you not eyes to see that the Church of England exists - more for the bodies than the souls of the people? I would rather see a - good, sturdy lot of Englishmen in England—good drinkers of honest - ale, breeders of good fat cattle, and growers of golden wheat—honest, - hard swearers of honest English oaths, and with selfrespect enough to - respect their betters—I would rather have them such, I say, than - snivelling, ranting Nonconformists, prating about their souls and showing - the whites of their eyes when they hear that an educated man, who is a - gentleman first and a parson afterwards, follows the hounds, relishes a - main in the cockpit, and a rubber of whist in the rectory parlour and - preaches the gospel of fair play for ten minutes in his pulpit, and the - rest of the twenty-four hours out of it.” - </p> - <p> - “And I, Mr. Rodney, would rather hear of the saving of a sinner's soul by - a Nonconformist ranter, Churchman though I be, than see the whole nation - living in comfortable forgetfulness of God.” - </p> - <p> - Parson Rodney laughed. - </p> - <p> - “I will give you another year of riding to and fro and telling the - peasantry that they have souls,” he said. “You will not make us a nation - of spiritual hypochondriacs, Mr. Wesley. For a while people will fancy - that there is something the matter with them, and you'll hear a deal of - groaning and moaning at your services; but when the novelty of the thing - is gone, they will cease to talk of their complaints. Englishmen are - stronger in their bodies than in their souls, and the weaker element will - go to the wall, and your legs will be crushed against that same wall by - the asses you are riding. Why, already I know that you have suffered a - bruise or two, through the shambling of that ass whose name is Pritchard. - The unprofitable prophet Pritchard. A prophet? Well, 'tis not the first - time that an ass thought himself a prophet, and began to talk insolently - to his master. But Balaam's animal was a hand or two higher than his - brother Pritchard; when he began to talk he proved himself no ass, but the - moment the other opens his mouth, he stands condemned. Lay on him with - your staff, Mr. Wesley; he has sought to make a fool of you without the - excuse that there is an angel in your way. I have half a mind to give his - hide a trouncing myself to-morrow, only I could not do so without giving a - cut at you, who are, just now, holding on by his tail, hoping to hold him - back in his fallow, and, believe me, sir, I respect you with all my heart, - and envy your zeal. Good-day to you, Mr. Wesley; I hope I may live to see - you in good living yet; if you worry to a sufficient degree the powers - that be, they will assuredly make you a Dean, hoping that in a Cathedral - Close, where everything slumbers, you will fold your hands and sleep - comfortably like the rest. I doubt if you would, sir. But meantime if you - will come to my humble rectory this evening, I can promise you a Tubber - with a good partner, and a bottle of Bordeaux that the King of France - might envy, but that has paid no duty to the King of England.” - </p> - <p> - “I thank you for your invitation, sir; but you know that I cannot accept - it.” - </p> - <p> - “I feared as much, sir. But never mind, I hope that I shall live until you - are compelled to accept my offer of hospitality to you as my Bishop.” - </p> - <p> - He waved his hand, and gave his horse, who had never heard his master talk - for so long a time at a stretch and whose impatience had for some time - given way to astonishment, a touch with the spur. Wesley watched him make - a beautiful jump over the gate that led into the park, beyond which the - rectory nestled on the side of a hill among its orchards. - </p> - <p> - He turned with a sigh to the cliff path leading beyond the village to - where Mr. Hartwell's house stood, separated from the beach only by a wall - of crags, and a few rows of weather-beaten trees, all stretching rather - emaciated arms inland. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>esley had preached - under varying conditions in different parts of England, but never under - such as prevailed on this Sunday, when he set out in the early morning - with his friend, Mr. Hartwell, for the pulpit among the crags which he had - occupied several times during his previous stay at Porthawn. - </p> - <p> - When he set out from the Hartwells' house the grey sea-mist, which had - been rolling round the coast and through the valley of the Lana for - several days past, was as thick as a fog. It was dense and confusing to - one who faced it for the first time. It was so finely grey that one seemed - to see through it at first, and boldly plunged into its depths; but the - instant that one did so, its folds closed over one as the dense waters of - the sea do over a diver, and one was lost. Before one had recovered, one - had the feeling of being smothered in a billow of grey gauze, smooth as - silk that has been dipped in milk, and gasped within the windings of its - folds. It was chilly, with the taste of the salt sea in its moisture. It - took the heart out of one. - </p> - <p> - “This is nothing, sir,” said Mr. Hartwell. “Lay your hand upon my arm and - you will have no trouble: I could find my way along our cliffs through the - thickest weather. I have been put to the test before now.” - </p> - <p> - “I am not thinking so much of ourselves as of our friends whom we expect - to meet us in the valley,” said Wesley. “How, think you, will they be able - to find their way under such conditions?” - </p> - <p> - “I do not assume that this mist is more than a temporary thing—it - comes from the sea well-nigh every Summer morn, but perishes as it rolls - over the cliffs,” said Mr. Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “It was clinging to the ridges of the valley slopes when I rode through, - almost at noon yesterday,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “Stragglers from the general army that we have to encounter here,” said - the other. “When the phalanx of sea-mist rolls inland, it leaves its - tattered remnants of camp followers straggling in its wake. I believe that - when we reach the place we shall find ourselves bathed in sunshine.” - </p> - <p> - “May your surmise prove correct!” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - And so they started breaking into the mist, feeling its salt touch upon - their faces and hearing the sound of the waves breaking on the beach below - them. It was curiously hollow, and every now and then amid the noise of - the nearer waves, there came the deep boom from the distant caves, and the - sob of the waters that were choked in the narrow passage between the - cliffs and the shoreward limits of the Dog's Teeth. - </p> - <p> - They had not gone more than half a mile along the track that led to the - pack horse road, when they heard the sound of voices, near at hand, with a - faint and still fainter far-off hail. The next moment they almost ran into - a mixed party of travellers on the same track. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Hartwell was acquainted with some of them. They came from a hamlet - high up in the valley a mile from Ruthallion. - </p> - <p> - “We are bound for the preaching,” said one of them. “What a wandering we - have had for the past two hours! We lost our way twice and only recovered - ourselves when we gained the horse road.” - </p> - <p> - “We are going to the preaching also,” said Mr. Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “How then does it come that we meet you instead of overtaking you?” asked - the other. - </p> - <p> - There was a silence. The halloa in the distance became fainter. - </p> - <p> - “One of us must be wrong,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “We don't match our knowledge against Mr. Hartwell's,” said the spokesman - of the strangers. - </p> - <p> - “I am confident that I know the way,” said Mr. Hartwell. “I only left the - main track once, and that was to cut off the round at Stepney's Gap.” - </p> - <p> - “On we go then, with blessings on your head, sir,” said the other man. - “Friends, where should we ha' landed ourselves if we had fallen short of - our luck in coming right on Mr. Hartwell? Would we not do kindly to give a - halloa or twain to help those poor hearts that may be wandering wild?” he - added, pointing in the direction whence the hail seemed to come. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, 'twould be but kind,” said an old man of the party. “Oh, 'tis a dread - and grisly mishap to be wandering wild in an unknown country.” - </p> - <p> - Forthwith the younger ones sent out answering hails to the halloas that - came to them. But when the next sounds reached their ears like echoes of - their own shouts, it seemed that they came from quite another quarter. - </p> - <p> - “I could ha' taken my davy that the lost ones was off another point o' the - compass,” said the old man. - </p> - <p> - “No, Comyn,” said another. “No, my man, they came from thither.” - </p> - <p> - He pointed straight in front of him. - </p> - <p> - “From where we stand that should be the Gap,” said Mr. Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “A special comfortable place to be wandering wild in is the Gap, for if - you walk straight on it carries you to the mighty ocean, and if you walk - back you will reach your own home safe, if it be in that direction,” said - the old man with emphasis. - </p> - <p> - “Was this mist far up the valley?” Wesley enquired. - </p> - <p> - “Not more than a league, sir,” replied the old man. “'Twas a sunlit morn - when we made our start, and then it came down on us like a ship in full - sail. There goes another hail, and, as I said, it comes from behind us. Is - there one of us that has a clear throat. 'Kish Trevanna, you was a gallery - choir singer in your youth, have you any sound metallic notes left that - you could cheer up the lost ones withal? Come, goodman, be not over shy. - Is this a time to be genteel when a parson's of the company, waiting to - help and succour the vague wanderers?” - </p> - <p> - “The call is for thee, Loveday, for didst not follow the hounds oft when - there was brisk work in Squire's coverts?” said the man to whom the appeal - was made. - </p> - <p> - “We must hasten onward,” said Mr. Hartwell, making a start. “'Tis most - like that we are overtaking whomsoever it be that was shouting a hail. - Forward, friends, and feel your way to the pack-horse road.” - </p> - <p> - The whole party began to move, Mr. Hartwell and Wesley leading, and before - they had proceeded for more than two hundred yards they heard the sound of - talking just ahead of them, and the next moment a group of men loomed - through the mist. Friends were also in the new party. - </p> - <p> - “Were you them that sang out?” asked one of them. - </p> - <p> - “Only in answer to your hail; we be no cravens, but always ready to help - poor wanderers,” replied the talkative old man. - </p> - <p> - “We did not sound a note before we heard a hail,” said the questioner in - the new party. “We have not strayed yet, being bound for the preaching.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you been on the horse road?” asked Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “The horse road? Why, sir, the horse road lies down the way that you - came,” said the other. - </p> - <p> - “Surely not, my friend. How could we have missed it?” said Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “If 'twasn't for the fog I could walk as steady for it as a mule,” said - the old man. “Ay, friends, us any mule under a pack saddle, for I have - traversed valley and cleft an hundred times in the old days, being well - known as a wild youth, asking your pardon for talking so secular when a - parson is by. I am loath to boast, but there was never a wilder youth in - three parishes, Captain Hartwell.” - </p> - <p> - (Mr. Hartwell had once been the captain of a mine.) - </p> - <p> - “Surely we should be guided by the sound of the sea,” said Wesley. “A - brief while ago I heard the boom of waters into one of the caves. If we - listen closely we should learn if the sound is more distinct and thereby - gather if we are approaching that part of the cliff or receding from it.” - </p> - <p> - “Book-learning is a great help at times, but 'tis a snare in a streaming - fog, or in such times of snow as we were wont to have in the hard years - before the Queen died in her gorgeous palace,” remarked the patriarch. - </p> - <p> - “One at a time, grandfather,” said a man who had arrived with the last - party. “There's not space enough for you and the ocean on a morn like - this. Hark to the sea.” - </p> - <p> - They stood together listening, but now, through one of the mysteries of a - fog, not a sound from the sea reached them. They might have been miles - inland. - </p> - <p> - “I have been baffled by a fog before now,” said a shepherd. “Have followed - the bleat of an ewe for a mile over the hills, and lo, the silly beast had - never left her lamb, and when I was just over her she sounded the - faintest.” - </p> - <p> - “Time is passing; should we not make a move in some direction?” said - Wesley. “Surely, my friends, we must shortly come upon some landmark that - will tell us our position in a moment.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot believe that in trying to cut off the mile for the Gap I went - grossly astray,” said Mr. Hartwell. “I am for marching straight on.” - </p> - <p> - “Straight on we march and leave the guidance to Heaven,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - On they went, Wesley marvelling how it was that men who should have known - every inch of the way blindfold, having been on it almost daily all their - lives, could be so baffled by a mist. To be sure Mr. Hartwell had forsaken - the track at one place, but was it likely that he had got upon a different - one when he had made his detour to cut off a mile of their journey. - </p> - <p> - On they walked, however, their party numbering fourteen men, and then all - of a sudden the voice of the sea came upon them, and at the same moment - they almost stepped over the steep brink of a little chasm. - </p> - <p> - “What is this?” cried Hartwell. “As I live'tis Gosney hollow, and we are - scarcely half a mile from my house! We have walked a good mile back on our - steps.” - </p> - <p> - “Did not I tell you how I followed the ewe?” said the shepherd. “'Tis for - all the world the same tale. Sore baffling thing is a sea-mist.” - </p> - <p> - “The valley will be full o' lost men and women this day,” remarked the old - man. - </p> - <p> - There is no condition of life so favourable to the growth of despondency - as that which prevails in a fog. The most sanguine are filled with despair - when they find that their own senses, to which they have trusted for - guidance and protection, are defeated. The wanderers on this Sunday - morning stood draped by the fog, feeling a sense of defeat. No one made a - suggestion. Everyone seemed to feel that it would be useless to make the - attempt to proceed to the crags where the preaching was to be held. - </p> - <p> - “Think you, Mr. Wesley, that this state of weather is the work of the - Fiend himself?” asked the talkative old man. “I know 'tis a busy question - with professing Christians, as well as honest Churchmen—this one - that pertains to the weather. Stands to reason, for say I have a turnip - crop coming on and so holds out for a wet month or two, while a neighbour - may look for sunshine to ripen his grain. Now if so be that the days are - shiny my turnips get the rot, and who is to blame a weak man for saying - that the Foul Fiend had a hand in prolonging the shine; but what saith my - neighbour?” - </p> - <p> - “Hither comes another covey of wandering partridges,” said one of the - first party, as the sound of voices near at hand was heard. - </p> - <p> - “Now, for myself, I hold that 'tis scriptural natural to say that aught in - the matter that pertains to the smoke of the Pit is the Devil's own work, - and if such a fog as this comes not straight out the main flue of——” - </p> - <p> - The old man's fluency was interrupted by the arrival of the new party, - Nelly Polwhele and her father. - </p> - <p> - “You are just setting out for the preaching, I suppose; so we are not so - late as we feared,” cried the girl. “Still, though we shall certainly not - be late for the preaching, however far behind we may be, we would do well - to haste.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley surely felt less despondent at the cheery greeting of the girl. He - laughed, saying: - </p> - <p> - “'Tis all very well to cry 'Haste,' child; know that it Has taken us a - whole hour to get so far.” - </p> - <p> - “Is't possible that you have been out for an hour, sir?” she cried. - “Surely some man of you was provident to carry with him a compass on such - a morn as this?” - </p> - <p> - “You speak too fast, maid; book-learning has made thee talkative; a - mariner's compass is for the mariners—it will not work on dry land,” - said the old man. - </p> - <p> - “Mine is one of the sort that was discovered since your sensible days, - friend—ay, as long agone as that; it works on land as well as on - sea. If a bumpkin stands i' the north its finger will point dead to him. - Wouldst like to test it thyself?” said Nelly's father. Before the old man - had quite grasped his sarcasm, though it was scarcely wanting in breadth, - he had turned to Mr. Hartwell, displaying a boat's compass in its wooden - box. - </p> - <p> - “'Twas Nelly bade me carry it with us,” he Said. “I worked out all the - bearings o' the locality before we started, and I can make the Red Tor as - easy as I could steer to any unseen place on the lonely ocean. Here we be, - sir; west sou'west to the Gap, track or no track; then west and by - nor'-west a little northerly to the lift o' the cliff, thence - south-half-east to the Red Tor. Up wi' your grapples, friends, we'll be - there before the sermon has begun or even sooner if we step out.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley, and indeed all of the party except perhaps the pessimistic old - man, whose garrulity had suffered a check, felt more cheerful. Hartwell - clapped Polwhele on the back, saying: - </p> - <p> - “You are the man we were waiting for. Onward, pilot; we shall reach the - Tor in good time, despite our false start and the delay it made to us.” - They started along the track, Polwhele at their head, and Wesley with Mr. - Hartwell and Nelly immediately behind him. - </p> - <p> - “There's a whole sermon in this, child,” said the preacher. - </p> - <p> - “A whole sermon, sir?” said she. - </p> - <p> - “There should be only one sermon preached by man to men, and this is it,” - said Wesley. “The poor wandering ones standing on a narrow causeway, with - danger on every side, and the grey mist of doubt in the air. The sense of - being lost—mark that, dear child,—and then the coming of the - good Pilot, and a complete faith in following Him into the place of safety - which we all seek. There is no sermon worth the preaching save only this.” - On they went, Polwhele calling out the bearings every now and again, and - as they proceeded they came upon several other travellers, more or less - forlorn—all were hoping to reach the Red Tor in time; so that before - the abrupt turn was made from the pack-horse track, there was quite a - little procession on the way. - </p> - <p> - Never had Wesley had such an experience as this. - </p> - <p> - Out from the folds of the impenetrable mist that rolled through the - hollows of the low mounds that formed that natural amphitheatre, came the - sound of many voices, and the effect was strange, for one could not even - see that a mass of people was assembled there. The hum that the newcomers - heard when still some distance away became louder as they approached, and - soon they were able to distinguish words and phrases—men calling - aloud to men—some who had strayed from the friends were moving about - calling their names, and occasionally singing out a hail in the forlorn - hope of their voices being recognised; then there came the distressed wail - of a woman who had got separated from her party, and with the laughter of - a group who had got reunited after many wanderings. There was no lack of - sounds, but no shape of men or women could be distinguished in the mist, - until Wesley and his party were among them. And even then the dimly seen - shapes had suggestions of the unreal about them. Some would loom larger - than human for a few moments, and then vanish suddenly. Others seemed - grotesquely transfigured in the mist as if they had enwrapped themselves - in a disguise of sackcloth. They seemed not to be flesh and blood, but - only shadows. Coming suddenly upon them, one felt that one had wandered to - another world—a region of restless shadows. - </p> - <p> - How was any man to preach to such a congregation? How was a preacher to - put force into his words, when failing to see the people before him? - </p> - <p> - When Wesley found himself on the eminence where he had spoken to the - multitude on his first coming to Cornwall, and several times later, he - looked down in front of him and saw nothing except the fine gauze of the - grey clouds that rolled around the rocks. He stood there feeling that he - was the only living being in a world that was strange to him. He thought - of the poet who had gone to the place of departed spirits, and realised - his awful isolation. How was he to speak words of life to this spectral - host? - </p> - <p> - He had never known what fear was even when he had faced a maddened crowd - bent upon the most strenuous opposition to his preaching: he had simply - paid no attention to them, and the sound of his voice had held them back - from him and their opposition had become parched. But now he felt - something akin to terror. Who was he that he should make this attempt to - do what no man had ever done before? - </p> - <p> - He fell upon his knees and prayed aloud. Light—Light—Light—that - was the subject of his prayer. He was there with the people who had walked - in darkness—he had walked with them, and now they were in the - presence of the One who had said “Let there be Light.” He prayed that the - Light of the World might appear to them at that time—the Light that - shineth through the darkness that comprehended Him not. He prayed for - light to understand the Light, as the poet had done out of the darkness of - his blindness. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “So much the rather, Thou Celestial Light, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Shine inward and the mind through her way - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Irradiate; there plant eyes; all mists from thence - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Purge and disperse that I may see and tell - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Of things invisible to mortal sight.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - And after his prayer with closed eyes, he began to preach into that void, - and his text was of the Light also. His voice sounded strange to his own - ears. - </p> - <p> - It seemed to him that he was standing in front of a wall, trying to make - his words pass through it. This was at first; a moment later he felt that - he was speaking to a denser multitude than he had ever addressed before. - The mist was before his eyes as a sea of sad grey faces waiting, earnest - and anxious for the message of gladness which he was bringing them. His - voice rose to heights of impressiveness that it had never reached before. - It clove a passage through the mist and fell upon the ears of the - multitude whom he could not see, stirring them as they had never been - stirred before, while he gave them his message of the Light. - </p> - <p> - For close upon half an hour he spoke of the Light. He repeated the word—again - and again he repeated it, and every time that it came from his lips it had - the effect of a lightning flash. This was at first. He spoke in flashes of - lightning, uttered from the midst of the cloud of a night of dense - blackness; and then he made a change. The storm that made fitful, fiercer - illumination passed away, and after an interval the reiteration of the - Light appeared again. But now it was the true Light—the light of - dawn breaking over a sleeping world. It did not come in a flash to dazzle - the eyes and then to make the darkness more dread; it moved gradually - upward; there was a flutter as of a dove's wing over the distant hills, - the tender feathers of the dawn floated through the air, and fell upon the - Eastern Sea, quivering there; and even while one watched them wondering, - out of the tremulous spaces of the sky a silver, silken thread was spread - where the heaven and the waters met—it broadened and became a - cincture of pearls, and then the thread that bound it broke, and the - pearls were scattered, flying up to the sky and falling over all the - waters in beautiful confusion; and before the world had quite awakened, - the Day itself gave signs of hastening to gather up the pearls of Dawn. - The Day's gold-sandalled feet were nigh—they were shining on the - sea's brim, and lo! the East was bright with gold. Men cried, “Why do - those feet tarry?” But even while they spoke, the wonder of the Morn had - come upon them. Flinging down his mantle upon the mountains over which he - had stepped—a drapery of translucent lawn, the splendour of the new - light sprung upward, lifting hands of blessing over the world, and men - looked and saw each other's faces, and knew that they were blest. - </p> - <p> - And the wonder that he spoke of had come to pass. While the preacher had - been describing the breaking light, the light had come. All unnoticed, the - mist had been dissolving, and when he had spoken his last words the - sunlight was bathing the preacher and the multitude who hung upon his - words. The wonder that he told them of had taken place, and there did not - seem to them anything of wonder about it. Only when he made his pause did - they look into each other's faces as men do when they have slept and the - day has awakened them. Then with the sunlight about them, for them to - drink great draughts that refreshed their souls, he spoke of the Light of - the World—of the Dayspring from on High that had visited the world, - and their souls were refreshed. - </p> - <p> - And not one word had he said of all that he had meant to say—not one - word of the man whom he had come so far to reprove. - </p> - <p> - No one was conscious of the omission. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he day became - sultry when the mist had cleared away, and by noon the heat was more - oppressive than had been known all the Summer. Wesley was exhausted by the - time he set out with Mr. Hartwell to return to the village. They needed no - mariner's compass now to tell them the way. - </p> - <p> - They scarcely exchanged a word. They seemed to have forgotten the - conditions under which they had gone forth in the early morning. A new - world seemed to have been created since then—a world upon which the - shadow of darkness could not fall for evermore. - </p> - <p> - They had gone straight to the cliffs, hoping for a breath of air from the - sea to refresh them; but they were disappointed; the air was motionless - and the reflection of the sunlight from the waves was dazzling in its - brilliancy. - </p> - <p> - “I should have thought that the very weight of this heavy atmosphere would - make the sea like glass,” said Wesley, while they rested on the summit of - the cliff. “And yet there are waves such as I have never seen on this part - of the coast unless when something akin to a gale was blowing.” - </p> - <p> - “I daresay there was a strong breeze blowing, though we did not feel it in - the shelter of the hollow of the Tor,” said his companion. - </p> - <p> - “True; it would require a strong wind to sweep away the mist so suddenly,” - said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir,” said the other, “I did not think of a wind in that connection. - Was it the fingers of the wind, think you, that swept that thick veil - aside, or was it the Hand that rent in twain the veil of the Temple?” - </p> - <p> - “I am reproached, brother,” said Wesley. “Let us give thanks unto God. May - He give us grace to think of all things as coming from Him—whether - they take the form of a mist which obscures His purpose, or the darkness - of a tempest on which He rides. I know myself wanting in faith at all - times—in that faith without reserve which a child has in his father. - I confess that for a moment in the morning I had the same thought as that - which was expressed by the old man who joined us: I thought it possible - that that fog which threatened to frustrate our walk had been sent by the - Enemy. Should I have thought so if our work had been hindered in very - truth? I dare not say no to that question. But now I know that it helped - rather than obstructed, us.” - </p> - <p> - “There can be no doubt about that,” said Hartwell. “For myself, I say that - I was never so deeply impressed in my life as at that moment when I found - myself looking at you; you were speaking of the world awakening, and it - seemed to me that I had been asleep—listening to the sound of your - voice—the voice of a dream, and then I was full awake, I knew not - how. I tell you, Mr. Wesley, I was not conscious of the change that was - taking place—from darkness to light.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor was I,” said Wesley. “My eyes were closed fast while I was preaching. - I had closed them to shut out that incongruous picture of obscurity, while - I thought of the picture of the breaking of light; when I opened my eyes - the picture that I had been striving to paint was before me. It was the - Lord's doing.” - </p> - <p> - While they remained resting on the cliff the officer of the Preventive men - came upon them. He knew Hartwell, and had, when Wesley had been in the - neighbourhood before, thanked him for the good influence his preaching had - in checking the smuggling. - </p> - <p> - He now greeted them cordially and enquired if they had come from the - village, adding that he hoped the fishing boats had not suffered from the - effects of the tide. - </p> - <p> - “We left the port early in the morning, and in the face of the mist. What - is the matter with the tide?” said Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “You have not been on the beach? Why, 'tis a marvel, gentlemen,” cried the - officer. “The like has not been seen since I took up my appointment in - this neighbourhood—a tide so high that the caves are flooded to the - roof. List, sirs; you can hear naught of the usual boom of the waters when - the pressed air forces them back.” - </p> - <p> - They listened, but although there was the usual noise of the waves - breaking along the coast, the boom from the caves which had been heard at - intervals through the mist was now silent. - </p> - <p> - “As a rule 'tis at high tide that the sound is loudest,” said Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “That is so,” said the officer. “The higher the water is, the more the air - in the caves becomes pressed, and so the louder is the explosion. But this - day the water has filled the caves to the roof, leaving no air in their - depths to bellow. One of my men, on his patrol an hour ago, was overtaken - by the tide at the foot of the cliffs at a place high above spring tide - mark. He had to climb to safety. He did so only with difficulty. Had he - been at Nitlisaye, nothing would have saved him.” - </p> - <p> - “What, are Nithsaye sands flooded? Impossible,” cried Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “Flooded up to Tor, sir. I tell you the thing is a marvel!” - </p> - <p> - “All the more so, since there is no wind to add to the force of the tide,” - said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “True, sir; there was a strong breeze in the early morning that swept the - sea-mist over the shore; but there has not been a capful since,” said the - officer. - </p> - <p> - “But see the waves! Are they the effects of the early wind, think you, - sir?” asked Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe; but if so, this also is past my experience of this coast, sir,” - replied the man. “But I allow that when I was sailing with Captain Hawke - in the West Indies I knew of the waters of the Caribbean Sea being stirred - up like this in the dead calm before a hurricane that sent us on our beam - ends, and one of our squadron on to the Palisades Reef at Port Royal.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you fear for a hurricane at this time?” asked Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “A gale, maybe; but no such hurricane as wrecks the island it swoops down - on in the Leewards, sir. Oh, a hurricane in very deed! Our ship's cutter—a - thirty-foot boat swung in on the iron davits—and lashed down to iron - stanchions on the deck—was whisked adrift as if it had been an - autumn leaf. I say it went five hundred fathom through the air and no man - saw it fall. I saw a road twenty foot wide shorn through the dense forest - for five miles as clean as with a scythe, as you go to Spanish Town—a - round dozen of planters' houses and a stone church had once stood on that - cutting. They were swept off, and not a stone of any one of them was ever - found by mortal after. Oh, a hurricane, indeed! We need expect naught like - that, by the mercy of Heaven, gentlemen; though I care not for the look of - yon sun.” - </p> - <p> - They glanced upwards. The sun had the aspect of being seen through a - slight haze, which made it seem of a brazen red, large and with its orb - all undefined. It looked more like the red fire of a huge lighted brazier - than the round sun, and all around it there was the gleam as of moving - flames. - </p> - <p> - “Looks unhealthy—is't not so?” said the officer. - </p> - <p> - “There is a haze in the air; but the heat is none the less,” said - Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “I like it not, sirs. This aspect of the sun is part and parcel of some - disturbance of nature that we would do well to be prepared for,” said the - officer, shaking his head ominously. - </p> - <p> - “A disturbance of nature? What mean you? Have you been hearing of the - fishing-boats that have been hauled up on the stones at the port for the - past two days? Have you taken serious account of the foolishness of a man - who calls himself a prophet?” asked Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - The officer laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I have heard much talk of the Prophet Pritchard,” he said. “But you - surely do not reckon me as one of those poor wretches whom he has scared - out of their lives by threatening them with the Day of Judgment to-morrow? - Nay, sir; I placed my trust in a statement that begins with soundings, the - direction of the wind and its force, the sail that is set, the last cast - of the log, the bearings of certain landmarks, and the course that is - being steered. My word for it, without such a preface, any statement is - open to doubt.” - </p> - <p> - “And have you received such a statement in regard to your 'disturbance of - nature,' sir?” - </p> - <p> - “That I have, sirs. Our cutter was cruising about a league off shore two - nights ago, light breeze from west-nor'-west, sail set; mainsail, - foresail, jib, speed three knots. Hour, two bells in the morning, Master - in charge on deck, watch, larboard—names if necessary. Reports, - night sultry, cloudless since second dog watch, attention called to sounds - as of discharge of great guns in nor'-nor'west. Lasted some minutes, not - continuous; followed by noise as of a huge wave breaking, or the fall of a - cataract in same quarter. Took in jib, mainsail haul, stand by to lower - gaff. No further sounds reported, but sea suddenly got up, though no - change of wind, force or direction, and till four bells cutter sailed - through waves choppy as if half a gale had been blowing. After four bells - gradual calm. Nothing further to report till eight bells, when cutter, - tacking east-nor'east, all sail set, gunner's mate found in it a dead - fish. Master reports quantity of dead fish floating around. Took five - aboard—namely, hake two, rock codling one, turbot two, rock codling - with tail damaged. That's a statement we can trust, Mr. Hartwell. - Yesterday it was supplemented by accounts brought by my men of the coast - patrol, of quantities of dead fish washed ashore in various directions. - And now comes this marvellous tide. Sirs, have not I some grounds for - touching upon such a subject as 'a great disturbance of nature'?” - </p> - <p> - “Ample, sir, ample,” said Wesley. “Pray, does your West Indian experience - justify you in coming to any conclusion in regard to these things?” - </p> - <p> - “I have heard of fish being killed by the action of a volcano beneath the - sea,” said the officer. “I have heard it said that all the Leeward Islands - are volcanos, though only one was firing broadsides the year that I was - with my Lord Hawke. 'Twas at Martinique which we took from the French. - Even before the island came in sight, our sails were black with dust and - our decks were strewn with cinders. But when we drew nigh to the island - and saw the outburst of molten rocks flying up to the very sky itself—sir, - I say to you that when a man has seen such a sight as that, he is not - disposed to shudder at all that a foolish fellow who has never sailed - further than the Bristol Channel may prate about the Day of Judgment.” - </p> - <p> - “And to your thinking, sir, an earthquake or some such convulsion of - nature hath taken place at the bottom of our peaceful Channel?” said - Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “In my thinking, sir, yes. But I would not say that the convulsion was at - the bottom of the Channel; it may have been an hundred leagues in the - Atlantic. And more is to come, sirs; take my word for it, more is to come. - Look at yonder sun; 'tis more ominous than ever. I shall look out for - volcano dust in the next rain, and advise the near-, est station east'ard - to warn all the fishing craft to make snug, and be ready for the worst. I - should not be surprised to find that the tide is still rising, and so I - wish you good-morning, sirs.” - </p> - <p> - He took off his hat and resumed his patrol of the coast. - </p> - <p> - “This is a day of surprises,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “The story of the fish is difficult to believe, in spite of the cocoon of - particulars in which it is enclosed,” said Hartwell. “The greatest marvel - in a mariner's life seems to me to be his imagination and his readiness of - resource when it comes to a question of memory. A volcano mountain in our - Channel!” - </p> - <p> - “Do not condemn the master of the revenue cutter too hastily,” said - Wesley. “His story corresponds very nearly to that narrated to me - yesterday by Polwhele.” - </p> - <p> - “Is't possible? True, Polwhele was the only fisherman who went out to the - reef three nights ago,” said Hartwell. “And the strange sounds——” - </p> - <p> - “He heard them also—he thought that they came from a frigate - discharging a broadside of carronades.” - </p> - <p> - Hartwell was silent for some time. At last he said: - </p> - <p> - “I could wish that these mysterious happenings had come at some other - time. Are you rested sufficiently in this place, sir? I am longing for a - cool room, where I can think reasonably of all that I have seen and heard - this day.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley rose from the hollow where he had made his seat and walked slowly - down the sloping path toward the village. But long before they had reached - the place of his sojourning, he became aware of a scene of excitement in - the distance. The double row of straggling cottages that constituted the - village of Porthawn they had left in the morning standing far beyond the - long and steep ridge of shingle, at the base of which the wrack of high - water lay, was now close to the water's edge. The little wharf alongside - of which the fishing boats were accustomed to lie had been hauled up - practically to the very doors of the houses. Scores of men and women were - engaged in the work of hauling them still higher, not by the machinery of - the capstans—the capstans were apparently submerged—but by - hawsers. The sound of the sailors' “Heave ho!” came to the ear of Wesley - and his companion a few seconds after they had seen the bending to the - haul of all the people who were clinging to the hawsers as flies upon a - thread. The shore was dark with men running with gear-tackles with blocks, - while others were labouring along under the weight of spars and masts that - had been hastily outstepped. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Hartwell was speechless with astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “It is indeed a day of wonder!” exclaimed Wes—ley. “A high tide? Ay; - but who could have believed such an one possible? Should we not be doing - well to lend them a hand in their emergency?” - </p> - <p> - He had to repeat his question before the other had recovered from his - astonishment sufficiently to be able to reply. - </p> - <p> - “Such a tide! Such a tide!” he muttered. “What can it mean? Lend a hand? - Surely—surely! Every hand is needed there.” - </p> - <p> - They were compelled to make a detour landward in order to reach the - people, for the ordinary path was submerged, but they were soon in the - midst of them, and bending to the work of hauling, until the drops fell - from their faces, when the heavy boat at which they laboured had her - bowsprit well-nigh touching the window of the nearest house. - </p> - <p> - Wesley dropped upon a stone and wiped his forehead, and some of the - fishermen did the same, while others were loosing the tackles, in - readiness to bind them on the next boat. - </p> - <p> - Nelly Polwhele was kneeling beside him in an instant—her hair had - become unfastened, for she had been working hard with the other women, and - fell in strands down her back and over her shoulders. Her face was wet. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir; this is overmuch for you!” she cried. - </p> - <p> - “Far overmuch, after all that you have gone through since morning. Pray - rest you in the shade. There is a jug of cider cooling in a pail of water - fresh drawn from the well. You need refreshment.” - </p> - <p> - He took her hand, smiling. - </p> - <p> - “I am refreshed, dear child,” he said. “I am refreshed.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should that man he treated different from the rest of us; tell me - that,” came the voice of a man who had been watching them, and now stepped - hastily forward. Wesley saw that he was Bennet. “Is there a man in the - village who doesn't know that 'tis John Wesley and his friends that has - brought this visitation upon us? Was there anything like to this before he - came with his new-fangled preaching, drawing down the wrath of Heaven upon - such as have been fool enough to join themselves to him? Was there any of - you, men, that thought with trembling limbs and sweating foreheads of the - Day of Judgment until John Wesley turned the head of that poor man - Pritchard, and made him blaspheme, wrapping himself in Wesley's old cloak, - and telling you that'twas the mantle of a prophet?” - </p> - <p> - Nelly had risen to her feet before his last sentence was spoken, but a - moment afterward she sprang to one side with a cry. She was just in time - to avoid the charge of a man on horseback. But Bennet was not so - fortunate. Before he was aware of a danger threatening him, he felt - himself carried off his feet, a strong man's hands grasping the collars of - his coat, so that he was swung off the ground, dangling and scrawling like - a puppet. Down the horse sprang into the water, until it was surging over - the pommel of the saddle. Then, and only then, the rider loosed his hold, - reining in his horse with one hand, while with the other he flung the man - headforemost a couple of yards farther into the waves. - </p> - <p> - “The hound! the hound! that will cool his ardour!” cried Parson Rodney, - backing his horse out of the water, while the people above him roared, and - the man, coming to the surface like a grampus, struck out for a part of - the beach most remote from the place where he had stood. - </p> - <p> - Wesley was on his feet and had already taken a step or two down the - shingle, for Parson Rodney's attitude suggested his intention of - preventing the man from landing, when he saw that Bennet was a strong - swimmer, and that he, too, had put the same interpretation upon the - rider's raising of his hunting crop. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said Parson Rodney, bringing his dripping horse beside him, “I - grieve that any man in my parish should put such an affront upon you. Only - so gross a wretch would have done so. Thank Heaven the fellow is not of - Porthawn, nor a Cornishman at all. If you do not think that my simple - rebuke has been enough, I am a Justice, and I promise you to send him to - gaol for a month at next session.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir, you mean well by me,” said Wesley; “but I would not that any human - being were placed in jeopardy of his life on my account.” - </p> - <p> - “That is because you are overgentle, sir,” said Rodney. “Thank Heaven, my - fault does not lie in that direction.” - </p> - <p> - “Repent, repent, repent, while there is yet time In a few more hours Time - shall be no more!” came a loud voice from the high ground above the bank. - </p> - <p> - Everyone turned and saw there the figure of Richard Pritchard, standing - barehead in the scorching sun, his hands upraised and his hair unkept; and - a curious nondescript garment made apparently of several sacks hastily - stitched together, with no sleeves. On his feet he wore what looked like - sandals—he had cut down the upper portion of his shoes, so that only - the sole remained, and these were fastened to his feet by crossed pieces - of tape. He was the prophet of the Bible illustration. It was plain that - he had studied some such print and that he had determined that nothing - should be lacking in his garb to make complete the part which he meant to - play. - </p> - <p> - Up again went the long, lean, bare arms, and again came the voice: - </p> - <p> - “O men of Porthawn, now is the accepted time, now is the Day of Salvation. - Yet a few more hours and Time shall be no more. Repent, repent, repent, - while ye have time.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here could be no - doubt about the depth of the impression which the strange figure and his - unusual garb produced upon the people. - </p> - <p> - There he stood on the high ground above the houses, the man who had - prophesied the end of the world, while beneath them tumbled the waves of a - sea where they had never seen sea water before! The occurrence, being so - far outside their experience, had about it the elements of the - supernatural—the aspect of a miracle. Was this the beginning of the - end of all? they asked themselves. To these people the daily ebb and flow - of the tide, ever going on before their eyes, was the type of a regularity - that nothing could change; and never once had the water been forced, even - under the influence of the strongest gale from the southwest, beyond the - summit of the shingle-heap—never until this day. - </p> - <p> - It was an awful thing that had come to pass before their eyes, and while - their brains were reeling beneath its contemplation there rang out that - voice of warning. The man who had predicted an event that was not more - supernatural in their eyes than the one which had come to their very feet, - was there bidding them repent. - </p> - <p> - But strange to say, there was not one among the-people assembled there who - made a motion—who cried out in conviction of the need for - repentance, as hundreds had done upon every occasion of John. Wesley's - preaching, although it had contained no element that, in the judgment of - an ordinary person, would appeal with such force to the emotions of the - villagers as did the scene in which Pritchard now played a part. - </p> - <p> - They remained unmoved—outwardly, however shrinking with terror some - of them may have been. Perhaps it was they felt that the man had, in a - way, threatened them physically, and they had a feeling that it would show - cowardice on their part to betray their fear, or it may have been that, as - was nearly always the case when a prophet came to a people, they - attributed to the bearer of the messages of the ill the responsibility for - the ills which he foretold—however it may have been, the people only - glanced up at the weird figure, and made no move. - </p> - <p> - But the appearance of the man at that moment had the effect of making them - forget the scene which had immediately preceded the sound of his voice. No - one looked to see whether or not John Bennet had scrambled back to the - beach or had gone under the waters. - </p> - <p> - “It is coming—it is coming: I hear the sound of the hoofs of the - pale Horse—yonder is the red Horse spoken of by the prophet at - Patmos, but the White Horse is champing his bit. I hear the clink of the - steel, and Death is his rider. He cometh with fire and brimstone. Repent—repent—repent!” - </p> - <p> - “I have a mind to make the fellow repent of his impudence,” said Parson - Rodney. “The effrontery of the man trying to make me play a part in his - quackery. I wonder how this water-finder would find the water if I were to - give him the ducking I gave to the other?” - </p> - <p> - “You would do wrong, sir,” said Wesley. “But I feel that I have no need to - tell you so: your own good judgment tells you that yonder man is to be - pitied rather than punished.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, if that is the view you take of the matter, you may be sure that I'll - not interfere,” cried the other. “The fellow may quack or croak or crow - for aught I care.'Twas for you I was having thought. But I've no intention - of constituting my humble self your champion. I wish you well; and I know - that if the world gets over the strain of Monday, we shall never see you - in our neighbourhood again.” - </p> - <p> - “The elements shall melt with fervent heat. You feel it—you feel it - on your faces to-day: I foretold it, and I was sent to cry unto all that - have ears to hear, 'Repent—repent—repent'!” - </p> - <p> - “The fellow has got no better manner than a real prophet,” laughed Parson - Rodney; but there was not much merriment in his laughter. “I have a mind - to have him brought before me as an incorrigible rogue and vagabond,” he - continued. “An hour or twain in the stocks would make him think more - civilly of the world. If he becomes bold enough to be offensive to you, - Mr. Wesley, give me a hint of it, and I'll promise you that I'll make him - see more fire and brimstone than he ever did in one of his ecstatic moods; - and so good-day to you, sir.” - </p> - <p> - He put his horse to a trot, and returned the salutes of the men who were - standing idly watching Pritchard in his very real sackcloth. - </p> - <p> - But he had scarcely ridden past them when he turned his horse and called - out: - </p> - <p> - “Wherefore are you idle, good men? Do you mean to forsake the remainder of - your smacks?” - </p> - <p> - A few of the fishermen looked at one another; they shook their heads; one - of them wiped his forehead. - </p> - <p> - “'Twill be all the same after Monday, Parson,” said that man. - </p> - <p> - “You parboiled lobster-grabber!” cried the Parson. “Do you mean to say - that you have the effrontery to believe that addle-pate up there rather - than a clergyman of the Church of England? Look at him. He's not a - man.'Tis a poor cut torn from, a child's picture Bible that he is! Do you - believe that the world would come to an end without your properly ordained - clergyman giving you a hint of it? Go on with your work, if you are men. - Repent? Ay, you'll all repent when 'tis too late, if you fail to haul up - your boats so that their backs get not broken on that ridge. If you feel - that you must repent, do it hauling. And when you've done your work, come - up to the Rectory and cool your throats with a jug of cider, cool from the - cellar, mind.” - </p> - <p> - “There shall be no more sea,” came the voice of the man on the mound; it - was growing appreciably hoarser. - </p> - <p> - “No more sea?” shouted the parson. “That's an unlucky shot of yours, my - addle-pated prophet; 'tis too much sea that we be suffering from just - here.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley had not reseated himself. He put his hand upon Mr. Hartwell's arm. - The latter understood what he meant. They walked away together. - </p> - <p> - “I have seen nothing sadder for years,” said Wesley. “I have been asking - myself if I am to blame. Should not I have been more careful in regard to - that unhappy man?” - </p> - <p> - “If blame is to be attached to any it is to be attached to those who - recommended the man to you, and I was among them,” said Hartwell. “I - recall how you were not disposed to accept him into our fellowship by - reason of his work with the divining rod; but we persuaded you against - your judgment. I, for one, shall never forgive myself.” - </p> - <p> - “Was ever aught so saddening as that travesty of the most solemn event?” - said Wesley. “And then the spectacle of that well-meaning but ill-balanced - man! A clergyman of our Church—you saw him turn to mock the wretch? - He made a jest upon the line that has never failed to send a thrill - through me: 'No more sea.' Shocking—shocking!... Friend, I came - hither with the full intention of administering a rebuke to Pritchard—of - openly letting it be understood that we discountenanced him. But I did not - do so to-day, and I am glad of it. However vain the man may be—however - injuriously he may affect our aims among the people—I am still glad - that I was turned away from saying a word against him.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Hartwell was too practical a man to look at the matter in the same - light. But he said nothing further about Pritchard. When he spoke, which - he did after a time, it was about Bennet. He asked Wesley if he could - guess why the man had spoken to him so bitterly. Why should the man bear - him a grudge? - </p> - <p> - Wesley mentioned that Bennet had come upon him when he was walking with - Polwhele's daughter from the Mill. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, that is the form of his madness—he becomes insanely jealous of - anyone whom he sees near that girl. But one might have thought that you at - least—oh, absurdity could go no further! But a jealous man is a - madman; he is incapable of looking at even the most ordinary incident - except through green glasses. You are opposed to clergymen marrying, are - you not, Mr. Wesley? I have heard of your book——-” - </p> - <p> - “I wrote as I was persuaded at that time,” replied Wesley. “But more - recently—I am not confident that I did not make a mistake in my - conclusions. I am not sure that it is good for a man to be alone; and a - clergyman, of all men, needs the sympathy—the sweet and humane - companionship of a woman.” - </p> - <p> - “True, sir; but if a clergymen makes a mistake in his choice of a wife, - there can be no question that his influence declines; and so many men of - your cloth wreck themselves on the quicksand of matrimony. I daresay that - 'tis your own experience of this that keeps you single, though you may - have modified your original views on the subject. Strange, is't not, that - we should find ourselves discussing such a point at this time? But this - seems to be the season of strange things, and 'twould be the greatest - marvel of all if we ourselves were not affected. Is it the terrible heat, - think you, that has touched the heads of those two men?” - </p> - <p> - “I scarce know what I should think,” said Wesley. “The case of Pritchard - is the more remarkable. Only now it occurred to me that there may be a - strange affinity between the abnormal in nature and the mind of such a man - as he.'Twould be idle to contend that he has not been able as a rule to - say where water is to be found on sinking a shaft; I have heard several - persons testify to his skill in this particular—if it may be called - skill. Does not his possession of this power then suggest that he may be - so constituted that his senses may be susceptible of certain vague - suggestions which emanate from the earth, just as some people catch ague—I - have known of such in Georgia—when in the neighbourhood of a swamp, - while others remain quite unaffected in health?” - </p> - <p> - “That is going too far for me, sir,” said Hartwell. “I do not need to - resort to anything more difficult to understand than vanity to enable me - to understand how Pritchard has changed. The fellow's head has been turned—that's - all.” - </p> - <p> - “That explanation doth not wholly satisfy me,” said Wesley. “I think that - we have at least some proof that he was sensible of something abnormal in - Nature, and this sensibility acting upon his brain disposed him to take a - distorted view of the thing. His instinct in this matter may have been - accurate; but his head was weak. He receives an impression of something - strange, and forthwith he begins to talk of the Day of Judgment, and his - foolish vanity induces him to think of himself as a prophet. The - Preventive officer thinks that there hath been an earthquake. Now there - can, I think, be no doubt that Pritchard was sensible of its coming; - Pol-whele told you yesterday that he had predicted an earthquake in the - sea, although it seemed that his illiteracy was accountable for this: and - now there comes this remarkable tide—the highest tide that the - memory of man has known.” - </p> - <p> - “You have plainly been giving the case of Pritchard much of your - attention,” said Hartwell; “but I pray you to recall his account of the - vision which he said came to him when he fell into that trance. 'Twas just - the opposite to a high tide—'twas such an ebbing of the water as - left bare the carcase of the East Indiaman that went ashore on the Dog's - Teeth reef forty years ago.” - </p> - <p> - “True; but to my way of thinking it matters not whether 'twas a prodigious - ebb or a prodigious flow that he talked of so long as he was feeling the - impression of the unusual—of the extraordinary. Mind you, I am only - throwing out a hint of a matter that may become, if approached in a proper - spirit, a worthy subject for sober philosophical thought. God forbid that - I should take it upon me to say at this moment that the power shown by - that man is from the Enemy of mankind, albeit I have at times found myself - thinking that it could come from no other source.” - </p> - <p> - “You are too lenient, I fear, Mr. Wesley. For myself, I believe simply - that the man's head has been turned. Is't not certain that a devil enters - into such men as are mad, and have we not proof that witches and warlocks - have sometimes the perverted gift of prophecy, through the power of their - master, the Old Devil?” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot gainsay it, my brother, and it is because of this you say, that - I am greatly perplexed.” - </p> - <p> - They had been walking very slowly, for the heat of the day seemed to have - increased, and they were both greatly exhausted. Before entering Mr. - Hartwell's house they stood for a short time looking seaward. There, as - before, the waves danced under the rays of the sun, although not a breath - of air stirred between the sea and the sky. The canopy of the heaven was - blue, but it suggested the blue of hard steel rather than that of the - transparent sapphire or that of the soft mass of a bed of forget-me-nots, - or of the canopy of clematis which clambered over the porch. - </p> - <p> - The sun that glared down from the supreme height was like to no other sun - they had ever seen. The haze on its disc, to which the Preventive officer - had drawn their attention an hour earlier, had been slowly growing in the - meantime, until now it was equal to four diameters of the orb itself, and - it was so permeated with the rays that it seemed part of the sun itself. - There that mighty furnace seethed with intolerable fire, and so singular - was the haze that one, glancing for a moment upward with hand on forehead, - seemed to see the huge tongues of flame that burst forth now and again as - they do beneath a copper cauldron on the furnace of the artificer. - </p> - <p> - But this was not all, for at a considerable distance from the molten mass, - which had the sun for its core, there was a wide ring apparently of fire. - Though dull as copper for the most part, yet at times there was a glow as - of living and not merely reflected flame, at parts of the brazen circle, - and flashes seemed to go from the sun to this cincture, conveying the - impression of an enormous shield, having the sun as the central boss of - shining brass, on which fiery darts were striking, flying off again to the - brass binding of the targe. - </p> - <p> - “Another marvel!” said Wesley; “but I have seen the dike more than once - before. Once 'twas on the Atlantic, and the master of our ship, who was a - mariner of experience, told me that that outer circle was due to the sun - shining through particles of moisture. Hold up a candle in the mist and - you have the same thing.” - </p> - <p> - “I myself have seen it more than once; 'tis not a marvel, though it has - appeared on a day of marvels,” said Hartwell; and forthwith they entered - the house. - </p> - <p> - They were both greatly exhausted, the fact being that before setting out - for the preaching in the early morning they had taken no more than a glass - of milk and a piece of bread, and during the seven hours that had elapsed - they had tasted nothing, though the day had been a most exhausting one. - </p> - <p> - In a very few minutes the cold dinner, with the salad, which had been in - readiness for their return, found them grateful; and after partaking of it - Wesley retired to his room. - </p> - <p> - He threw himself upon a couch that stood under the window; a group of - trees, though birch and not very bosky, grew so close to the window that - they had made something of a shade to the room since morning, so that it - was the coolest in the house. It was probably this sense of coolness that - refreshed him so far as to place him within the power of sleep. He had - thought it impossible when he entered the house that he should be able to - find such a relief, exhausted as he had been. But now he had scarcely put - his head on the pillow before he was asleep. - </p> - <p> - Several hours had passed before he opened his eyes again. He was conscious - that a great change of some sort, that he could not at once define, had - taken place. The room was in shadow where before it had been lighted by - flecks of sunshine, but this was not the change which appealed to him with - striking force; nor was it the sense of being refreshed, of which he was - now aware. There was a curious silence in the world—the change had - something to do with the silence. He felt as he had done in the parlour of - Ruthallion Mill when he had been talking to the miller and the machinery - had suddenly stopped for the breakfast hour. That was his half-awakened - thought. - </p> - <p> - The next moment he was fully awake, and he knew what had happened: when he - had fallen asleep the sound of the waves had been in his ears without - cessation, and now the sea was silent. - </p> - <p> - He thought that he had never before been in such a silence. It seemed - strange, mysterious, full of awful suggestions. It seemed to his vivid - imagination that the world, which a short time before had been full of - life, had suddenly swooned away. The hush was the hush of death. The - silence was the silence of the tomb. “'Tis thus,” he thought, “that a man - awakens after death—in a place of awful silences.” - </p> - <p> - And then he felt as if all the men in the world had been cut off in a - moment, leaving him the only man alive. - </p> - <p> - It continued unbroken while he lay there. It became a nightmare silence—an - awful palpable thing like a Sphinx—a blank dumbness—a - benumbing of all Nature—a sealing up of all the world as in the hard - bondage of an everlasting Winter. - </p> - <p> - He sprang from his couch unable to endure the silence any longer. He went - to the window and looked out, expecting to see the flat unruffled surface - of the channel, where the numberless waves had lately been, sparkling with - intolerable, brilliance, and every wave sending its voice into the air to - join the myriad-voiced chorus that the sea made. - </p> - <p> - He looked out and started back; then he drew up the blind and stared out - in amazement, for where the sea had been there was now no sea. - </p> - <p> - He threw open the window and looked out. Far away in the utter distance he - saw what seemed like a band of glittering crimson on the horizon. Looking - further round and to the west he saw that the sun was more than halfway - down the slope of the heavens in that quarter and it was of the darkest - crimson in colour—large, but no longer fiery. - </p> - <p> - Then there came a murmur to his ears—the murmur of a multitude of - people; and above this sound came a hoarse, monotonous voice, crying: - </p> - <p> - “I heard one say to me: 'There shall be no sea—there shall be no - more sea'; and the sun shall be turned into darkness and the moon into - blood, before the great and terrible Day of the Lord. Repent—repent—repent!” - </p> - <p> - Far away he could see the figure of the man. He stood on the summit of the - cliff beyond the path, and, facing the sinking sun, he was crimson from - head to foot. Seen at such a distance and in that light he looked an - imposing figure—a figure that appealed to the imagination, and not - lacking in those elements which for ages have been associated with the - appearance of a fearless prophet uplifting a lean right arm and crying - “Thus saith the Lord.” Wesley listened and heard his cry: - </p> - <p> - “There shall be no more sea! Repent—repent—repent!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0223.jpg" alt="0223 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0223.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hat think you now, - sir?” Hartwell asked of Wesley when the latter had descended the stairs - and entered the little parlour of the house. - </p> - <p> - “I am too greatly amazed to think,” replied Wesley. “But since you put - thinking into my head, I would ask you if you think it unnatural that a - great ebb should follow an unusually high tide?” - </p> - <p> - It was plain that Hartwell was greatly perturbed. - </p> - <p> - “Unnatural? Why, has not everything that has happened for the past three - days been unnatural?” he cried. “Sir, I am, I thank God, a level-headed - man. I have seen some strange things in my life, both in the mines and - when seafaring; I thought that naught could happen to startle me, but I - confess that this last—I tell you, sir, that I feel now as if I were - in the midst of a dream. My voice sounds strange to myself; it seems to - come from someone apart from me—nay, rather from myself, but outside - myself.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis the effect of the heat, dear friend,” said Wesley. “You should have - slept as I did.” - </p> - <p> - “I did sleep, sir; what I have been asking myself is 'Am I yet awake?' I - have had dreams before like to this one—dreams of watching the sea - and other established things that convey to us all ideas of permanence and - regularity, melting away before my very eyes—one dread vision showed - me Greta Cliff crumbling away like a child's mound built on the sand—crumbling - away into the sea, and then the sea began to ebb and soon was on the - horizon. Now, I have been asking myself if I am in the midst of that same - dream again. Can it be possible? Can it be possible?” - </p> - <p> - He clapped his hand to his forehead and hastened to the window, whence he - looked out. Almost immediately he returned to Wesley, saying: - </p> - <p> - “I pray you to inform me, sir, if this is the truth or a dream—is it - really the case that the sea has ebbed so that there is naught left of - it?” - </p> - <p> - “You are awake, my brother,” said Wesley, “and 'tis true that the sea hath - ebbed strangely; but from the upper windows 'tis possible to see a broad - band of it in the distance. I beseech of you to lie down on your bed and - compose yourself. This day has tried you greatly.” - </p> - <p> - The other stared at him for a few moments and then walked slowly away, - muttering: - </p> - <p> - “A mystery—a mystery! Oh, the notion of Dick Pritchard being a true - prophet! Was it of such stuff as this the old prophets were made? God - forgive me if I erred in thinking him one of the vain fellows. Mr. - Wesley's judgment was not at fault; he came hither to preach against him; - but not a word did he utter of upbraiding or reproof.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley saw that the man was quite overcome. Up to this moment he had shown - himself to be possessed of a rational mind, and one that was not easily - put off its balance. He had only a few hours before been discussing - Pritchard in a sober and unemotional spirit; but this last mystery had - been too much for him: the disappearance of the sea, which had lately - climbed up to the doors of Porthawn, had unhinged him and thrown him off - his balance. If the phenomenon had occurred at any other time—under - any less trying conditions of weather—he might have been able to - observe it with equanimity; but the day had been, as Wesley said, a trying - one. The intense heat was of itself prostrating, and demoralising even to - Wesley himself, and he had schooled himself to be unaffected by any - conditions of weather. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly Hartwell turned toward his visitor, saying: - </p> - <p> - “And if the man was entrusted to predict the falling away of the sea, is - there anyone that will say that the remainder of his prophecy will not be - fulfilled?” - </p> - <p> - “I entreat of you, brother, to forbear asking yourself any further - questions until you have had a few hours' sleep,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “What signifies a sleep now if before this time to-morrow the end of all - things shall have come?” Hartwell cried almost fiercely. “Nay, sir, I - shall wait with the confidence of a Christian; I shall not be found as - were the foolish virgins—asleep and with unlighted lamps. There will - be no slumber for me. I shall watch and pray.” - </p> - <p> - “Let us pray together, my brother,” said Wesley, laying his hand on the - man's shoulder affectionately. He perceived that he was not in a mood to - be reasoned with. - </p> - <p> - It was at this moment that the door was opened and there entered the room - the miller and Jake 'Pullsford. - </p> - <p> - Wesley welcomed their coming; he had hopes that they would succeed in - persuading his host to retire; but before they had been in the room for - more than a few minutes Hartwell had well-nigh become himself again. - </p> - <p> - The newcomers were not greatly affected by anything that had happened. - They were only regretful that the mist of the morning had prevented them - from reaching the Red Tor in time for the preaching. They had started - together, but had stopped upon the way to help a party of their friends - who were in search of still another party, and when the strayed ones had - been found they all had thought it prudent to remain at a farm where they - had dined. - </p> - <p> - “On our way hither we met with one who had been to the preaching,” said - Jake. “He told us something of what we had missed.” - </p> - <p> - “Were you disappointed to learn that no reference had been made to the - very matter that brought me back to you?” asked Wesley. - </p> - <p> - Jake did not answer immediately. It was apparent that he had his own views - on this matter, and that he had been expounding them to his companion on - their walk from the farm to the coast. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley, 'tis plain to me that the skill at divination shown by that - man comes from below, not from above,” he said. “And do you suppose that - our enemies will take back any of the foul things they have said about our - allying ourselves with sorcery when they hear of the wonderful things that - are now happening?” - </p> - <p> - “Brother,” said Wesley, “if the principles of the Truth which we have been - teaching are indeed true, they will survive such calumnies—nay, they - will take the firmer hold upon all who have heard us by reason of such - calumnies. The gold of the Truth has oft been tried by the fire of calumny - and proved itself to be precious.” - </p> - <p> - “You saw the man play-acting in his sackcloth?” said the carrier. - </p> - <p> - Wesley shook his head sadly. - </p> - <p> - “'Twas deplorable!” he said. “And yet I dare not even now speak against - him—no, not a word.” - </p> - <p> - “What, sir, you do not believe that he is a sorcerer and a soothsayer?” - cried Jake. - </p> - <p> - “I have not satisfied myself that he is either,” replied Wesley. “More - than once since I saw how much evil was following on his predictions I - have felt sure that he was an agent of our Arch-enemy, but later I have - not felt quite so confident in my judgment. No, friend, I shall not judge - him. He is in the hands of God.” - </p> - <p> - “And I agree with Mr. Wesley,” said the miller. - </p> - <p> - Jake Pullsford, with his hands clasped behind him and his head craned - forward, was about to speak, when Hal Holmes entered the room. He was - excited. - </p> - <p> - “Have you seen it?” he cried before he had greeted anyone. “Have you seen - it—the vision of his trance at the Mill—the tide sliding away - as it hath never done before within the memory of man?—the discovery - of the bare hollow basin of the sea? Have you been within sight of the - Dog's Teeth?” - </p> - <p> - “We—Mr. Hartwell and I—have not been out of doors for six - hours; but we are going now,” said Wesley. “We have seen some of the - wonders that have happened; we would fain witness all.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir,” said the blacksmith, “this one is the first that I have seen, - and seeing it has made me think that we were too hasty in condemning poor - Dick Pritchard. We need your guidance, sir. Do you hold that a man may - have the gift of prophecy in this Dispensation, without being a sorcerer, - and the agent of the Fiend?” - </p> - <p> - “Alas! 'tis not I that can be your guide in such a matter,” said Wesley. - “You must join with me in seeking for guidance from above. Let us go forth - and see what is this new wonder.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis the vision of his trance—I saw it with these eyes as I passed - along the high ground above the Dog's Teeth Reef—the reef was - well-nigh bare and naked,” said Hal. “Who is there of us that could tell - what the bottom of the sea looked like? We knew what the simple slopes of - the beach were—the spaces where the tide was wont to ebb and flow - over are known to all; but who before since the world began saw those - secret hidden deeps where the lobsters lurk and crabs half the size of a - man's body—I saw them with these eyes a while agone—and the - little runnels—a thousand of them, I believe, racing through - channels in the slime as if they were afraid to be left behind when the - sea was ebbing out of sight—and the sun turned all into the colour - of blood! What does it all mean, Mr. Wesley—I do not mean the man's - trance-dream, but the thing itself that hath come to pass?” - </p> - <p> - “We shall go forth and be witnesses of all,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - He was not excited; but this could not be said of his companions; they - betrayed their emotions in various ways. Mr. Hartwell and the miller were - silent and apparently stolid; but the carrier and the smith talked. - </p> - <p> - Very few minutes sufficed to bring them to the summit of the cliff that - commanded a full view seaward. At high tide the waves just reached the - base of these cliffs, and the furthest ebb only left bare about a hundred - feet of sand and shingle, with large smooth pebbles in ridges beyond the - groins of the out-jutting rocks. But now it was a very different picture - from that of the ordinary ebb that stretched away to the horizon under the - eyes of our watchers. - </p> - <p> - The sandy breadth, with its many little ribs made by the waves, sloped - into a line of sparse sea weed, tangled tufts of green and brown, and some - long and wiry, and others flat with large and leathery bosses, like the - studs of a shield. But beyond this space the rocks of the sea-bed began to - show, There they were in serrated rows—rocks that had never before - been seen by human eyes. Some lay in long sharp ridges, with here and - there a peak of a miniature mountain, and beyond these lines of ridges - there was a broad tableland, elevated in places and containing huge hollow - basins brimming over with water, out of which every now and again a huge - fish leaped, only to find itself struggling among the thick weeds. Further - away still there was a great breadth of ooze, and then peak beyond peak of - rocks, to which huge, grotesque weeds were clinging, having the semblance - of snakes coiled round one another and dying in that close embrace. - </p> - <p> - Looking over these strange spaces was like having a bird's-eye view of an - unexplored country of mountains and tablelands and valleys intersected by - innumerable streams. The whole breadth of sea-bed was veined with little - streams hurrying away after the lost sea, and all the air was filled with - the prattling and chattering that went on through these channels. - </p> - <p> - And soon one became aware of a strange motion of struggling life among the - forests of sea weed. At first it seemed no more than a quivering among the - giant growths; but soon one saw the snake's head and the narrow shoulders - of a big conger eel, from five to seven feet long, pushed through the - jungle of ooze, to be followed by the wriggling body; there were congers - by the hundred, and the hard-dying dog-fishes by the score, flapping and - forcing their way from stream to stream. Stranded dying fish of all sorts - made constant movements where they lay, and whole breadths of the sea-bed - were alive with hurrying, scurrying crabs and lobsters and cray-fish. Some - of these were of enormous size, patriarchs of the deep that had lurked for - ages far out of reach of the fisherman's hook, and had mangled many a - creel. - </p> - <p> - The weirdness of this unparalleled picture was immeasurably increased by - its colouring, for over all there was spread what had the effect of a - delicate crimson gauze. The whole of the sea-bed was crimson, for it was - still dripping wet, and glistening with reflections of the red western - sky. At the same time the great heat of the evening was sucking the - moisture out of the spongy sea weeds, and there it remained in the form of - a faint steam permeated with the crimson light. - </p> - <p> - And through all that broad space under the eyes of the watchers on the - cliff there was no sign of a human being. They might have been the - explorers of stout Cortez who stared at the Pacific from that peak in - Darien. It was not until they had gone in silence for a quarter of a mile - along the cliff path that they saw where the people of the village had - assembled. The shore to the westward came into view and they saw that a - crowd was there. The sound of the voices of the crowd came to their ears, - and above it the hard, high monotone like that of a town crier uttering - the words that Wesley had heard while yet in his room: - </p> - <p> - “There shall be no more sea. Repent—repent—repent.” - </p> - <p> - Once more they stood and looked down over the part of the coast that had - just been disclosed—the eastern horn of Greta Bay, but no familiar - landmark was to be seen; on the contrary, it seemed to them that they were - looking down upon a new and curious region. The line of cliffs was - familiar to their eyes, but what was that curious raised spine—that - long sharp ridge stretching outwards for more than a mile on the - glistening shore? - </p> - <p> - And what was that strange object—that huge bulk lying with one end - tilted into the air on one shoulder of that sharp ridge? - </p> - <p> - All at once Wesley had a curious feeling that he had seen all that before. - The sight of that mighty bulk and the knowledge that it was the heavy - ribbed framework of a large ship seemed familiar. But when or how had he - seen it? - </p> - <p> - It was not until Hartwell spoke that he understood how this impression had - come to him. - </p> - <p> - “You see it—there—there—just as he described it to us - when he awoke from his trance?” said Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - And there indeed it was—the fabric of the East Indiaman that had - been wrecked years before on the Dog's Teeth Reef, and there was the Dog's - Teeth Reef laid bare for the first time within the memory of man! - </p> - <p> - It was the skeleton of a great ship. The outer timbers had almost wholly - disappeared—after every gale for years before some portion of the - wreckage had come ashore and had been picked up by the villagers; but the - enormous framework to which the timbers of the hull had been bolted had - withstood the action of the waves, for the ship had sunk into a cradle of - rock that held her firmly year after year. There it lay like the skeleton - of some tremendous monster of the awful depths of the sea—the Kraken—a - survival of the creatures that lived before the Flood. The three stumps of - masts which stood up eight or ten feet above the line of bulwarks gave a - curious suggestion to a creature's deformed legs, up in the air while it - lay stranded on its curved back. - </p> - <p> - And the crimson sunset shot through the huge ribs of this thing and spread - their distorted shadows sprawling over the sands at the base of the reef - and upon the faces of the people who stood looking up at this wonder. - </p> - <p> - “There it is—just as he saw it in his trance!” said Hal Holmes. “He - saw it and related it to us afterward. What are we to say to all this, Mr. - Wesley? All that he predicted so far has come to pass. Are we safe in - saying that yonder sun will be setting over a blazing world to-morrow?” - </p> - <p> - “I do not dare to say anything,” replied Wesley. “I have already offered - my opinion to Mr. Hartwell, which is that there may be a kind of sympathy - between the man and the earth, by whose aid he has been able to discover - the whereabouts of a spring in the past and to predict these marvels of - tides.” - </p> - <p> - “That is a diviner's skill derived from the demons that we know inhabit - the inside of the earth,” cried Jake Pullsford. “He has ever had - communication with these unclean things.” - </p> - <p> - “That works so far as the tides are concerned,” said the smith. “It stands - to reason that the demons of the nether world must know all about the ebb - and flow; but how did he foresee the laying bare of yonder secret?” He - pointed to the body; of the wreck. - </p> - <p> - “Was it not the same demons that dragged the ship to destruction on the - reef, and is't not within their province to know all that happens below - the surface of the sea?” said the carrier. - </p> - <p> - “Doubtless,” said the smith. “But I find it hard to think of so moderately - foolish a fellow as Dick Pritchard being hand in glove with a fiend of any - sort, and not profiting more by the traffic—as to his secular - circumstances, I should say.” - </p> - <p> - “And I find it hard to think of him as urging men to repent, if he be an - ally of the Evil One,” said Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “This is not a case in which the wisdom of man can show itself to be other - than foolishness,” said Wesley. “But I am now moved to speak to the people - who have come hither to see the wonder. Let us hasten onward to the - highest ground. My heart is full.” - </p> - <p> - He went on with his friends to a short spur of the cliff about twenty feet - above the shingle where groups of men and women were straying; most of - them had been down to the wreck and nearly all were engaged in discussing - its marvellous appearance. Some of the elder men were recalling for the - benefit of the younger the circumstances of the loss of the great East - Indiaman, and the affluence that had come to a good many houses in the - Port, when the cargo began to be washed ashore before the arrival of the - Preventive men and the soldiery from Falmouth. - </p> - <p> - But while the larger proportion of the people were engaged in discussing, - without any sense of awe, the two abnormal tides and the story of the - wreck, there were numbers who were clearly terror-stricken at the marvels - and at the prospect of the morrow. A few women were clinging together and - moaning without cessation, a girl or two wept aloud, a few shrieked - hysterically, and one began to laugh and gibber, pointing monkey hands in - the direction of the wreck. But further on half a dozen young men and - maidens were engaged in a boisterous and an almost shocking game preserved - in Cornwall and some parts of Wales through the ages that had elapsed - since it was practised by a by-gone race of semi-savages. They went - through it now in the most abandoned and barbaric way, dancing like - Bacchanalians in a ring, with shouts and wild laughter. - </p> - <p> - John Wesley, who knew what it was to be human, had no difficulty in - perceiving that these wretched people were endeavouring in such excesses - to conceal the terror they felt, and he was not surprised to find a number - of intoxicated men clinging together and singing wildly in the broad - moorland space that lay on the landward side of the cliffs. - </p> - <p> - “This is the work of Pritchard the water-finder, and will you say that - 'tis not of the Devil?” cried Jake Pullsford. - </p> - <p> - “Poor wretches! Oh, my poor brothers and sisters!” cried Wesley. “Our aim - should be to soothe them, not to denounce them. Never have they been - subjected to such a strain as that which has been put upon them. I can - understand their excesses. 'Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die'—that - is the cry which comes from all hearts that have not been regenerated.'Tis - the cry of the old Paganism which once ruled the world, before the sweet - calm of Christianity brought men from earth to heaven. I will speak to - them.” - </p> - <p> - He had reached the high ground with his friends. There was a sudden spur - on the range of low cliffs just where the people were most numerous. They - had come from all quarters to witness the wonders of this lurid eve, and, - as was the case at Wesley's preaching, everyone was asking of everyone - else how so large an assembly could be brought together in a neighbourhood - that was certainly not densely populated. On each side of him and on the - beach below there were crowds, and on every face the crimson of the - sinking sun flamed. He went out to the furthest point of the cliff-spur - and stood there silent, with uplifted arms. - </p> - <p> - In a moment the whisper spread: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley has come—Mr. Wesley is preaching!” - </p> - <p> - There was the sound of many feet trampling down the pebbles of the beach. - The people flowed toward him like a great wave slowly moving over that - place now forsaken by the waves. The young men and maidens who had been - engaged in that fierce wild dance among the wiry herbage flocked toward - him, their faces shining from their exertions, and stood catching their - breath. The old men who had been staring stolidly through the great ribs - of the hulk, slouched through the ooze and stood sideways beneath him, - their hands, like the gnarled joints of a thorn, scooped behind their ears - lest they should lose a word. The women, with disordered hair, tears on - their faces, the terror of anticipation in their eyes, waited on the - ground, some kneeling, others seated in various postures. - </p> - <p> - Then there came a deep hush. - </p> - <p> - He stood there, a solitary figure, black against the crimson background of - the western sky, his arms still upraised. It might have been a statue - carved out of dark marble that stood on the spur of the cliff. - </p> - <p> - And then he began to speak. - </p> - <p> - His hands were still uplifted in the attitude of benediction; and the - words that came from him were the words of the Benediction. - </p> - <p> - “The Peace of God which passeth all understanding.” - </p> - <p> - The Peace of God—that was the message which he delivered to that - agitated multitude, and it fell upon their ears, soothing all who heard - and banishing their fears. He gave them the message of the Father to His - children—a message of love, of tenderness—a promise of - protection, of infinite pity, of a compassion that knew no limits—outliving - the life of the world, knowing no change through all ages, the only thing - that suffered no change—a compassion which, being eternal, would - outlive Time itself—a compassion which brought with it every - blessing that man could know—nay, more—more than man could - think of; a compassion that brought with it the supreme blessing that - could come to man—the Peace of God which passeth all understanding! - </p> - <p> - He never travelled outside this message of Divine Peace, although he spoke - for a full hour. - </p> - <p> - And while he spoke the meaning of that message fell upon the multitude who - listened. They felt that Peace of which he spoke falling gently upon them - as cold dew at the close of a day of intolerable heat. They realised what - it meant to them. The Peace descended upon them, and they were sensible of - its presence. The dread that had been hanging over them all the day was - swept away as the morning mist had been dispersed. The apprehension of the - Judgment was lost in the consciousness of a Divine Love surrounding them. - They seemed to have passed from an atmosphere of foetid vapours into that - of a meadow in the Spring time. They drank deep draughts of its sweetness - and were refreshed. - </p> - <p> - When he had begun to speak the sun was not far from setting in the depths - of a crimson sky, and before he had spoken for half an hour the immense - red disc, magnified by the vapours in the air, was touching the horizon. - With its disappearance the colour spread higher up the sky and drifted - round to the north, gradually changing to the darkest purple. Even then it - was quite possible for the people to see one another's features distinctly - in the twilight, but half an hour later the figure of the preacher was but - faintly seen through the dimness that had fallen over the coast. The - twilight had been almost tropical in its brevity, and the effect of the - clear voice of many modulations coming out of the darkness was strange, - and to the ears that heard it, mysterious. Just before it ceased there - swept upon the faces of his listeners a cool breath of air. It came with a - suddenness that was startling. During all the day there had not been a - breath. The heat had seemed to be so solid, and now the movement of the - air gave the impression of the passing of a mysterious Presence. It was as - if the wings of a company of angels were winnowing the air, as they fled - by, bringing with them the perfume of their Paradise for the refreshing of - the people of the earth. Only for a few minutes that cool air was felt, - but for that time it was as if the Peace of God had been made tangible. - </p> - <p> - When the preacher ended with the words with which he had begun, the - silence was like a sigh. - </p> - <p> - The people were on their knees. There was no one that did not feel that - God was very nigh to him. - </p> - <p> - And the preacher felt it most deeply of all. There was a silence of - intense solemnity, before the voice was heard once more speaking to Heaven - in prayer—in thanksgiving for the Peace that had come upon this - world from above. - </p> - <p> - He knew how fully his prayer had been answered when he talked to the young - men and maidens who had been among his hearers. The excitement of the - evening had passed away from all of them. At the beginning of his - preaching there had been the sound of weeping among them. At first it had - been loud and passionate; but gradually it had subsided until at the - setting of the sun the terror which had possessed them gave place to the - peace of the twilight, and now there was not one of them that did not feel - the soothing influence that comes only when the angel of the evening - hovers with shadowy outspread wings over the world. - </p> - <p> - They all walked slowly to their homes; some belonged to Porthawn and - others to the inland villages of the valley of the Lana, as far away as - Ruthallion, and the light breeze that had been felt during the preaching - became stronger and less intermittent now. It was cool and gracious beyond - expression, and it brought with it to the ears of all who walked along the - cliffs the soothing whisper of the distant sea. The joyous tidings came - that the sea was returning, and it seemed that with that news came also - the assurance that the cause for dread was over and past. - </p> - <p> - And all this time the preacher had made no allusion to the voice that had - sounded along the shore in the early part of the evening predicting the - overthrow of the world. All that he had done was to preach the coming of - Peace. - </p> - <p> - “You may resume your journeying, Mr. Wesley, as soon as you please. May he - not, friend Pullsford?” said Hartwell when he had returned to his house. - “There is no need for us to keep Mr. Wesley among us when we know that he - is anxious to resume his preaching further west. You never mentioned the - man's name, sir, and yet you have done all—nay, far more than we - thought it possible for you to accomplish.” - </p> - <p> - “There is no need for me to tarry longer,” replied Wesley. “But I pray of - you, my dear friends, not to think that I do not recognise the need there - was for me to return to you with all speed. I perceived the great danger - that threatened us through Pritchard, and I was glad that you sent for me. - I hope you agree with me in believing that that danger is no longer - imminent.” - </p> - <p> - “I scarce know how it happened,” said Hartwell; “but yesterday I had a - feeling that unless you preached a direct and distinct rebuke to - Pritchard, the work which you began here last month would suffer disaster, - and yet albeit you did no more than preach the Word as you might at any - time, making no reference to the things that have happened around us, I - feel at the present moment that your position is, by the Grace of God, - more promising of good than it has ever been.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” said Jake Pullsford. “But I am not so sure that the vanity of that - man should not have been crushed. There is no telling to what length he - may not go after all that has happened. The people should ha' been warned - against him, and his sorceries exposed.”. - </p> - <p> - “Think you, Jake, that the best way to destroy the vanity of such as he - would be by taking notice of what he said and magnifying it into a - menace?” said Hartwell. “Believe me, my friend, that Mr. Wesley's way is - the true one. Dick Pritchard's vanity got its hugest filip when he heard - that Mr. Wesley had come back to preach against him. It will receive its - greatest humiliation when he learns that Mr. Wesley made no remark that - showed he knew aught of him and his prophecies.” - </p> - <p> - “He will take full credit to himself for what has happened—of that - you may be sure,” said Jake, shaking his head. “Ay, and for what did not - happen,” he continued as an afterthought. “Be certain that he will claim - to have saved the world as Jonah saved the Ninevites. He will cling to - Jonah to the end.” - </p> - <p> - “I am glad that I came hither when you called for me, my brethren,” said - Wesley. “Let us look at the matter with eyes that look only at the final - issue. I would fain banish from my mind every thought save one, and that - is spiritual blessing of the people. If they have been soothed by my - coming—if even the humblest of them has been led to feel something - of what is meant by the words 'the Peace of God,' I give thanks to God for - having called me back. I have no more to say.” - </p> - <p> - And that was indeed the last word that was said at that time respecting - Pritchard and his utterances. Wesley and his friends felt that, however - deeply the people had been impressed by the natural phenomena which had - followed hard on his predictions of disaster to the world, he would not - now be a source of danger to the work which had been begun in Cornwall. - Wesley had, by his preaching, showed that he would give no countenance to - the man. Those who thought that it would be consistent with his methods - and his Methodism to take advantage of the terror with which the minds of - the people had become imbued, in order to bring them into the classes, - that had already been formed, were surprised to find him doing his utmost - to banish their fears. He had preached the Gospel of Peace, not of - Vengeance, the Gospel of Love, not of Anger. - </p> - <p> - Awakening shortly after midnight, Wesley heard the sound of the washing of - the waters on the pebbles at the base of the cliffs. There was no noise of - breaking waves, only the soft, even lisp and lap of the last ripples that - were crushed upon the pebbles—grateful and soothing to his ears. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly there came to him another sound—the monotone of the - watchman calling out of the distance: - </p> - <p> - “Repent—repent—repent! The Day of the Lord is at hand. Who - shall abide the Day of His Wrath? Repent—repent—repent!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he sunlight was in - his room when he awoke. He had a sense of refreshment. A weight seemed - lifted off his heart. He remembered how he had awakened the previous - morning in the same bed with a feeling of perplexity. He had found it - impossible to make up his mind as to the course he should pursue in regard - to Pritchard. He had been fearful of being led to rebuke a man who might - have been made the means of leading even one sinner to repentance. He - asked himself if he differed as much from that man as the average - churchman did from himself in his methods. He knew how grievous he - regarded the rebukes which he had received from excellent clergymen who - looked on his field preaching with the sternest disapproval; and who then - was he that he should presume to rebuke a man who had been led by his zeal - beyond what he, Wesley, thought to be the bounds of propriety? - </p> - <p> - He had felt great perplexity on awakening on that Sunday morning; but he - had been given help to see his way clearly on that morning of mist, and - now he felt greatly at ease. He had nothing to reproach himself with. - </p> - <p> - He recalled all the events of the day before—all that his eyes had - seen—all that his ears had heard; and now that he had no further - need to think about Pritchard, it was surprising how much he had to recall - that had little to do with that man. He himself felt somewhat surprised - that above all that had been said to him during the day the words that he - should dwell longest upon were a few words that had fallen from Mr. - Hartwell. He had hinted to Mr. Hartwell that John Bennet had acted so - grossly in regard to him, through a mad jealousy; and Mr. Hartwell, - hearing this, had lifted up his hands in amazement, and said: - </p> - <p> - “Absurdity could go no further!” - </p> - <p> - When Hartwell said those words Wesley had not quite grasped their full - import; his attention had been too fully occupied with the further - extravagance which he had witnessed on the part of Pritchard. But now that - his mind was at ease he recalled the words, and he had sufficient - selfpossession to ask himself if his host considered that the absurdity - was to be found in Bennet's fancying that he, Wesley, was his rival. If - so, was the absurdity to be found in the fancy that such a young woman - could think of him, Wesley, in the light of a lover; or that he should - think of the young woman as a possible wife? - </p> - <p> - He could not deny that the thought of Nelly Polwhele as his constant - companion had more than once come to him when he was oppressed with a - sense of his loneliness; and he knew that when he had got Mr. Hartwell's - letter calling him back to Porthawn he had felt that it might be that - there was what some men called Fate, but what he preferred to call the - Hand of God, in this matter. Was he being led back to have an opportunity - of seeing her again, and of learning truly if the regard which he thought - he felt for her was to become the love that sanctified the marriage of a - man with a woman? - </p> - <p> - Well, he had returned to her, and he had seen (as he fancied) her face - alight with the happiness of his return. For an hour he had thought of the - gracious possibility of being able to witness such an expression upon her - face any time that he came from a distant preaching. The thought was a - delight to him. Home—coming home! He had no home; and surely, he - felt, the longing for a home and a face to welcome him at the door was the - most natural—the most commendable—that a man could have. And - surely such a longing was not inconsistent with his devotion to the work - which he believed it was laid upon him to do while his life lasted. - </p> - <p> - He had seen her and talked with her for a short time, and felt refreshed - by being under the influence of her freshness. But then he had been forced - to banish her from his mind in order to give all his attention to the - grave matter which had brought him back to this place. He had walked by - her side through the mist the next day, and never once had he allowed the - thought of her to turn his eyes away from the purpose which had called him - forth into the mist of the morning. He thought of her thoughtfulness in - the matter of the mariner's compass with gratitude. That was all. His - heart was full of his work; there was no room in it for anything else. - </p> - <p> - But now while he sat up in the early sunshine that streamed through his - window he felt himself free to think of her; and the more he thought of - her the more he wondered how he could ever have been led to believe what - he had already embodied in a book respecting the advantages of celibacy - for the clergy. A clergyman should not only have a knowledge of God; a - knowledge of man was essential to success in his calling; and a knowledge - of man meant a wide sympathy with men, and this he now felt could only be - acquired by one who had a home of his own. The influence of the home and - its associations could not but be the greatest to which a man was subject. - The ties that bind a man to his home were those which bind him to his - fellow-men. The <i>res angusta domi</i>, which some foolish persons - regarded as detrimental to a man's best work, were, he was now convinced, - the very incidents which enabled him to do good work, for they enabled him - to sympathise with his fellows. - </p> - <p> - Theologians do not, any more than other people, feel grateful to those who - have shown them to be in the wrong; but Wesley had nothing but the - kindliest feelings for Nelly Polwhele for having unwittingly led him to - see that the train of reasoning which he had pursued in his book was - founded upon an assumption which was in itself the result of an immature - and impersonal experience of any form of life except the Academic, and - surely such a question as he had discussed should be looked at from every - other standpoint than the Academic. - </p> - <p> - Most certainly he was now led to think of the question from very different - standpoints. He allowed his thoughts to wander to the girl herself. He - thought of her quite apart from all womankind. He had never met any young - woman who seemed to possess all the charms which endear a woman to a man. - She was bright as a young woman should be, she was thoughtful for the - needs of all who were about her, she had shown herself ready to submit to - the guidance of one who was older and more experienced than herself. He - could not forget how she had promised him never again to enter the - playhouse which had so fascinated her. Oh, she was the most gracious - creature that lived—the sweetest, the tenderest, and surely she must - prove the most devoted! - </p> - <p> - So his imagination carried him away; and then suddenly he found himself - face to face with that phrase of Mr. Hartwell's “<i>Absurdity could go no - further</i>.” - </p> - <p> - And then, of course, he began to repeat all the questions which he had put - to himself when he had started on his investigations into the matter. Once - more he said: - </p> - <p> - “<i>Where lies the source of all absurdities?</i>” - </p> - <p> - And equally as a matter of course he was once again led in the direction - that his thoughts had taken before until he found himself enquiring if the - world held another so sweet and gracious and sympathetic. - </p> - <p> - It was not until he was led once more to his starting-point that he began - to feel as he had never done before for those of his fellow-men who - allowed themselves to be carried away by dwelling on the simplest of the - questions which engrossed him. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis a repetition of yesterday morning,” said he. “We set out pleasantly - enough in the mist, and after an hour's profitless wandering we found - ourselves at the point whence we had started—ay, and the young woman - was waiting for us there in person.” - </p> - <p> - Was that morning's wandering to be typical of his life? he wondered. Was - he to be ever straying along a misty coast, and evermore to be finding - himself at the point whence he had started, with Nelly Polwhele waiting - for him there? - </p> - <p> - An absurdity, was it? - </p> - <p> - Well, perhaps—but, after all, should he not be doing well in asking - Mr. Hartwell what had been in his mind when he had made use of that - phrase? - </p> - <p> - Mr. Hartwell had undoubtedly something in his mind, and he was a - level-headed man who had accustomed himself to look at matters without - prejudice and to pronounce an opinion based on his common sense. It might - be that he could see some grave reason why he, Wesley, should dismiss that - young woman forever from his thoughts—forever from his heart. - </p> - <p> - But, of course, he reserved to himself the right to consider all that Mr. - Hartwell might say on this matter, and—if he thought it right—to - exercise his privilege of veto in regard to his conclusions. He was not - prepared to accept the judgment of Mr. Hartwell without reserve. - </p> - <p> - Following this line of thought, he quickly saw that whatever Mr. Hartwell - might have to say, and however his conclusions might be put aside, it - would be necessary for him, Wesley, to acquaint all those men who were - associated with him in his work with his intention of marrying a certain - young woman. There were his associates in London, in Bristol, in Bath, and - above all there was his brother Charles. Would they be disposed to think - that such a union would be to the advantage or to the detriment of the - work to which they were all devoted? - </p> - <p> - The moment he thought of his brother he knew what he might expect. Up to - that moment it had really never occurred to him that any objection that - might not reasonably be overruled, could be offered to his marrying Nelly - Polwhele. But so soon as he asked himself what his brother would say when - made aware of his intention, he perceived how it was conceivable that his - other friends might agree with Mr. Hartwell. For himself, he had become - impressed from the first with some of those qualities on the part of Nelly - Polwhele which, he was convinced, made her worthy of being loved by the - most fastidious of men. He had long ago forgotten that she was only the - daughter of a fisherman, and that she owed her refinement of speech to the - patronage of the Squire's daughters whose maid she had been. - </p> - <p> - But what would his brother say when informed that it was his desire to - marry a young woman who had been a lady's maid? Would not his brother be - right to assume that such a union would be detrimental to the progress of - the work in which they were engaged? Had they not often talked together - deploring how so many of their brethren in the Church had brought contempt - upon their order through their loss of self-respect in marrying whomsoever - their dissolute patrons had ordered them to marry? What respect could - anyone have for his lordship's chaplain who was content to sit at the side - table at meals and in an emergency discharge the duties of a butler, and - comply without hesitation to his lordship's command to marry her - ladyship's maid, or, indeed, any one of the servants whom it was found - desirable to have married? - </p> - <p> - The thing was done every day; that was what made it so deplorable, he and - his brother had agreed; and in consequence day by day the influence of the - clergy was declining. Was he then prepared to jeopardise the work to which - he had set his hand by such a union as he was contemplating? - </p> - <p> - He sprang to his feet from where he had been sitting by the window. - </p> - <p> - “Heaven forgive me for having so base a thought!” he cried. “Heaven - forgive me for being so base as to class the one whom I love with such - creatures as his patron orders his chaplain to marry! She is a good and - innocent child, and if she will come to me I shall feel honoured. I shall - prove to all the world that a woman, though lowly-born, may yet be a true - helpmeet for such as I. She will aid me in my labours, not impede them. I - know now that I love her. I know now that she will be a blessing to me. I - love her, and I pray that I may ever love her truly and honestly.” - </p> - <p> - It was characteristic of the man that the very thought of opposition - should strengthen him. An hour earlier he had been unable to assure - himself that his feeling for her was love, but now he felt assured on this - point: he loved her, and he had never before loved a woman. She was the - first fruit of his mission to Cornwall. She had professed the faith to - which even he himself had failed to attain until he had been preaching for - years. Bound to her by a tie that was the most sacred that could exist - between a man and a woman, his most earnest hope was to hold her to him by - another bond whose strands were interwoven with a sympathy that was human - as well as divine. His mind was made up at last. - </p> - <p> - He was early at breakfast with his host, but he did not now think it - necessary to ask Mr. Hartwell what he had meant by his reference to the - absurdity of John Bennet's jealousy. The morning gave promise of a day of - brilliant sunshine and warmth. There was nothing sinister in the aspect of - the sun, such as had been noted on the previous day. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir,” said Hartwell, “you came hither with a blessing to us all, and - you will leave with a sense of having accomplished by the exercise of your - own judgment far more than we looked for at such a time. The boats have - put out to the fishing ground once more, and the dread that seemed - overhanging our poor friends sank with the setting sun last evening.” - </p> - <p> - “Not to me be the praise—not to me,” said Wesley, bowing his head in - all humility. After a few moments he raised his head quite suddenly, - saying: - </p> - <p> - “You have referred to my judgment, dear friend; I wonder if you think that - in many matters my judgment is worthy to be depended on?” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, sir, I know of no man in the world whose judgment in all - reasonable matters I would accept sooner than yours,” replied Hartwell. - “Why, Mr. Wesley, who save you would have foreseen a way of avoiding the - trouble which threatened us by such means as you adopted? Were not we all - looking for you to administer a rebuke to the man whose vanity carried him - so far away from what we held to be discreet? Was there one of us who - foresaw that the right way of treating him was to let him alone?” - </p> - <p> - “I dare not say that 'twas my own judgment that guided me,” said Wesley. - “But—I hope, friend Hartwell, that I shall never be led to take any - step that will jeopardise your good opinion of my capacity to judge what - course is the right one to pursue in certain circumstances.” - </p> - <p> - “Believe me, Mr. Wesley, after the events of yesterday I shall not - hesitate to say that you were in the right and I in the wrong, should I - ever be disposed to differ from you on a matter of moment. But I cannot - think such a difference possible to arrive,” said Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “Differences in judgment are always possible among good friends,” said - Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “I should like to have a long talk with you some day, Mr. Wesley, on the - subject of the influence of such powers as are at the command of - Pritchard,” said Hartwell. “Are they the result of sorcery or are they a - gift from above? I have been thinking a great deal about that trance of - his which we witnessed. How was it possible for him to foresee the place - and the form of that wreck, think you?” - </p> - <p> - “Howsoever his powers be derived,” replied Wesley, “the lesson that we - must learn from his case is that we cannot be too careful in choosing our - associates. For myself, I have already said that I mistrusted him from the - first, as I should any man practising with a divining rod.” - </p> - <p> - “We should have done so, too, sir, only that we had become so accustomed - to his water-finding, it seemed as natural to send for him when sinking a - well as it was to send for the mason to build the wall round it when the - water was found.” - </p> - <p> - This was all that they said at that time touching the remarkable incidents - of the week. Both of them seemed to regard the case of Pritchard as - closed, although they were only in the morning of the day which the man - had named in his prediction. Mr. Hartwell even assumed that his guest - would be anxious to set out on his return to the west before noon, and he - was gratified when Wesley asked for leave to stay on for a day or two yet. - </p> - <p> - Wesley spent an hour or two over his correspondence, and all the time the - matter which he had at heart caused him to lay down his pen and lie back - in his chair, thinking, not upon the subject of his letters, but upon the - question of approaching Nelly Polwhele, and upon the question of the - letter which he would have to write to his brother when he had seen the - girl; for whether she accepted him or refused him, he felt that it was his - duty to inform his brother as to what had occurred. - </p> - <p> - The result of his meditations was as might have been expected. When a man - who is no longer young gives himself up to consider the advisability of - offering marriage to a young woman with whom he has not been in - communication for much more than a month, he usually procrastinates in - regard to the deciding scene. Wesley felt that perhaps he had been too - hasty in coming to the conclusion that a marriage with Nelly would bring - happiness to them both. Only a few hours had elapsed since he had, as he - thought, made up his mind that he loved her. Should he not refrain from - acting on such an impulse? What would be the consequence if he were to ask - the young woman to be his wife and find out after a time that he should - not have been so sure of himself? Surely so serious a step as he was - contemplating should be taken with the utmost deliberation. He should put - himself to the test. Although he had been looking forward to seeing the - girl this day, he would not see her until the next day—nay, he was - not confident that he might not perceive that his duty lay in waiting for - several days before approaching her with his offer. - </p> - <p> - That was why, when he left the house to take the air, he walked, not in - the direction of the village, where he should run the best chance of - meeting her, but toward the cliffs, which were usually deserted on week - days, except by the Squire's grooms, who exercised the horses in their - charge upon the fine dry sand that formed a large plateau between the - pathway and the struggling trees on the outskirts of Court Park. - </p> - <p> - He went musing along the cliff way, thinking of the contrast between this - day and the previous one—of the contrast between those sparkling - waves that tossed over each other in lazy play, and the slime and ooze - which had lain bare and horrid with their suggestions of destruction and - disaster. It was a day such as one could scarcely have dreamt of following - so sinister a sunset as he had watched from this place. It was a day that - made him glad that he had not uttered a harsh word in rebuke of the man - who had troubled him—indeed he felt most kindly disposed toward - Pritchard; he was certainly ready to forgive him for having been the means - of bringing him, Wesley, back to this neighbourhood. - </p> - <p> - He wondered if it had not been for Pritchard, would he have returned to - Ruthallion and Porthawn. Was the affection for Nelly, of which he had - become conscious during his journeying in the west, strong enough at that - time to carry him back to Porthawn, or had it matured only since he had - come back to her? - </p> - <p> - He wondered and mused, strolling along the path above the blue Cornish - waters. Once as he stood for a while, his eyes looked longingly in the - direction of the little port. He felt impatient for more than a few - moments—impatient that he should be so strict a disciplinarian in - regard to himself. It was with a sigh he turned away from where the roofs - of the nearest houses could just be seen, and resumed his stroll with - unfaltering feet. He had made his resolution and he would keep to it. - </p> - <p> - But he did not get further than that little dip in the cliffs where he had - once slept and awakened to find Nelly Polwhele standing beside him. The - spot had a pleasant memory for him. He remembered how he had been weary - when he had lain down there, and how he had risen up refreshed. - </p> - <p> - Surely he must have loved her even then, he thought. What, was it possible - that he had known her but a few days at that time? His recollection of her - coming to him was as that of someone to whom he had been attached for - years. - </p> - <p> - He smiled as he recalled the tale which he had once read of the magician - Merlin, who had woven a bed of rushes for the wife of King Mark, on which - she had but to lie and forthwith she saw whomsoever she wished to see. - Well, here he was in the land of King Mark of Cornwall, and there was the - place where he had made his bed.... - </p> - <p> - He had been contemplating the comfortable hollow between the rocks, - thinking his thoughts, and he did not raise his eyes for some time. When - he did he saw Nelly Polwhele coming toward him, not along the cliffs, but - across the breadth of moorland beyond which was the Court Park. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>is by a happy - chance we are brought together,” Wesley said while he held her hand. - </p> - <p> - But Nelly Polwhele made haste to assure him that it was not by chance; she - had been with her young ladies at the Court, she said, and from the high - ground she had spied upon him on his walk, and had come to him through the - sparse hedges of the park. - </p> - <p> - He smiled at the eagerness with which she disclaimed such an ally as - chance. He had not had a wide experience of young women, but he had a - shrewd conviction that the greater number of them would have hastened to - acknowledge his suggestion rather than to repudiate it. She was innocent - as a child. - </p> - <p> - “By whatsoever means we have been brought together, I for one must think - it happy,” said he. “Do you go to your friends yonder every day?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no, sir; but they have charged me to keep them apprised of your - preaching since you came hither, and thus I went to them yesterday—that - was after your morning preaching—and to-day to tell them of the - evening. Oh, sir, surely there was never aught seen that would compare - with the happenings of yester eve! Even while I was rehearsing all to my - young ladies, I had a feeling that I was telling them what I had seen in a - dream. I do think that I have had a dream more than once that was - strangely like all that was before my eyes—a dream of drowning and - seeing in a blood-red light the mysteries of the sea-bed.” - </p> - <p> - “A strange thing, my child! I have never seen a stranger thing,” said he. - “It did not seem a wonder to me that the people were so agitated.” - </p> - <p> - “They thought for sure that the end of the world had come,” said she. “And - indeed I began to feel that poor Dick Pritchard had truly been sent to - warn us.” - </p> - <p> - “And how was his warning taken by many?” he cried. “Worse than the - Ninevites were some that I saw here. Of sackcloth there was none on their - limbs—of repentance their hearts were empty. I hope, my child, that - you did not see some of those whom I saw here—dancing—wild—pagan - creatures of the woods! And their dance! Pagan of the worst—an orgy - of the festival of the god Saturn—an abomination of Baal and - Ashtoreth. And I asked myself, 'Is it possible that this is how a solemn - warning of the coming of the Dreadful Day is taken by a Christian people? - But you, I trust, did not see all that came before me?” - </p> - <p> - “I saw enough to tell me that Dick Pritchard's warning was not a true - one,” said she. “I was by the side of father below the wreck. He had seen - the <i>Gloriana</i> founder, and if Dick Pritchard had prophesied that he - should live to look upon her hull again after all the years that have - passed, he would have laughed. And some of the men about us on the beach - that had never been bare of water since the world began, talked like wild - men. If the world was to come to an end before another set o' sun they - meant to enjoy themselves—the Court—they whispered of breaking - through the doors of the Court and feasting for once and for the last - time. One of them—David Cairns is his name—cried that at the - Day of Judgment all men were equal, and he would head any band of fellows - that had the spirit to face the Squire and call for the key of the cellar. - Father called him a rascal, and he replied. Some were taking his part and - some the part of father, when the cry went up that Mr. Wesley was nigh. - That was the end of the strife, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “To tell me this last is to gladden my heart, my dear,” he said, and again - he clasped one of her hands in both his own. But he did not do so with the - fervour of a lover. His heart was not dwelling upon the purpose which he - had been considering since he rose; the girl's story had absorbed him. - “And now I hope that the good folk will settle down once more into their - quiet and useful lives,” he added. - </p> - <p> - “They will not be able to do so for some time,” she replied, shaking her - head. “All who were present at the preaching have already returned to - their work; the boats that were idle for nearly a week put out to the - fishing early in the morning; but there are other places where Dick - Pritchard's talk was heard, and the miners made it a good excuse for - quitting their labour.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor fellows, I shall go among them at once; I may be able to help them,” - said he. - </p> - <p> - “Do you think of going at once, sir?” she asked quickly. - </p> - <p> - “At once,” he replied. “Is there any time to lose?” - </p> - <p> - “And you will not return to us?” - </p> - <p> - Her question came from her like a sigh—a sigh that is quickly - followed by a sob. - </p> - <p> - He looked at her for some moments in silence. He had a thought that if he - meant to tell her that he loved her, no better opportunity would be likely - to present itself. This was for the first few moments, but his thought was - succeeded by a feeling that it would be a cruelty to shock this innocent - prattling child with his confession. She could not be otherwise than - shocked were he to tell her that his desire was to get her promise to - marry him. He would adhere to his resolution to wait. He would make - another opportunity if one did not present itself. - </p> - <p> - “If it be God's will I shall return to you,” he said. “Yes, in good time—in - good time.” - </p> - <p> - “I am glad,” she said. “It was because I feared that you would go away at - once and not return for a long time, that I made haste to reach you when I - saw you from the park.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should my going affect you, Nelly?” he asked. He wondered if the - opportunity which he looked for, and yet was anxious to avoid, would - persist in remaining within easy reach. - </p> - <p> - “I—I—the truth is, sir, that I wanted—I wished greatly—to - ask your advice,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “I hope you will not find that you have placed overmuch dependence on me,” - he said. “Let us walk along the cliffs and talk as we pursue our way. Not - that I am anxious to leave this spot; it bears many happy memories to me. - Was it not here that you came to me on the day of my first preaching, - ministering to my needs?” - </p> - <p> - She flushed with pleasure. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir, all I did was as nothing compared with the good that has come to - me through your words. I want your counsel now. I am sometimes very - unhappy by reason of my doubts in a matter on which I should have none.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me your grief, dear child. Have you not lived long enough to know - that when the cause of your unhappiness is told to another, it weighs less - heavily upon you? What, did you not confide in me on Saturday? 'Tis surely - not from that man Bennet that——” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no; he has naught to do with my trouble. It comes not from anyone but - my own self—from my own foolishness. You have a mind to hear the - story of a young girl's foolishness who knew not her own mind—her - own heart?” - </p> - <p> - “If you are quite sure that you wish to tell it to me. You may be assured - that you will find in me a sympathetic listener. Is there any one of us - that can say in truth that his heart or hers has not some time been guilty - of foolishness?” - </p> - <p> - “The worst of it is that what seems foolishness to-day had the semblance - of wisdom yesterday. And who can say that to-morrow we may not go back to - our former judgment?” - </p> - <p> - “That is the knowledge that has come to you from experience.” - </p> - <p> - “It has come to me as the conclusion of my story—such as it is.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis sad to think that our best teacher must ever be experience, my - child. But if you have learned your lesson you should be accounted - fortunate. There are many to whom experience comes only to be neglected as - a teacher.” - </p> - <p> - “I have had experience—a little—and all that it has taught to - me is to doubt. A year ago I thought that I loved a man. To-day I do not - know whether I love him or not—that is all my poor story, sir.” She - had not spoken fluently, but faltering—with many pauses—a - little wistfully, and with her eyes on the ground. - </p> - <p> - He stopped suddenly in his walk. He, too, had his eyes upon the ground. He - had not at once appreciated the meaning of her words, but after a pause it - came upon him: he understood what her words meant to him. - </p> - <p> - She loved another man. - </p> - <p> - How could he ever have been so foolish as to take it for granted that such - a girl as this was free? That was the first thought which came to him. Had - he not heard how every youth for miles round was in love with Nelly - Polwhele? Had he not seen how one man had almost lost his senses through - love of her? - </p> - <p> - And yet he had been considering the question of asking her to marry him, - assuming from the very first that she must be free! He had been - considering the matter from his own standpoint, asking himself if it would - not be well to be assured of his own love for her before telling her that - he loved her; and he came to the conclusion that he should not use any - undue haste in saying the words which, he hoped, would link their lives - together. He had never entertained a suspicion that he might be too late - in making his appeal to her. It was now a shock to him to learn, as he had - just done, that he was too late. - </p> - <p> - It took him some time to recover himself. - </p> - <p> - “I ask your pardon,” he said. “I pray you to tell to me again what you - have just said.” - </p> - <p> - “I am well-nigh ashamed to say it, sir,” she murmured. “I am afraid that - you may not think well of me. You may think that there is some truth in - the reports that have gone abroad concerning me.” - </p> - <p> - “Reports? I have heard no reports. I thought of you as I found you, and - all that I thought was good. I think nothing of you now that is not good. - Ah, child, you do not know what direction my thoughts of you have taken! - Alas! alas!” - </p> - <p> - It was her turn to be startled. He saw the effect that his words had - produced upon her, and he hastened to modify it. He felt that he had no - right to say a word that might even in a distant way suggest to her the - direction in which his thoughts—his hopes—had so recently led - him. - </p> - <p> - “Have I spoken too vaguely?” he said. “Surely not. But I will be explicit, - and assure you that from the day we walked through the valley side by side - I have thought of you as a good daughter—an honest and innocent - young woman, thoughtful for the well-being of others.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir, your good opinion is everything to me!” she cried. “But I feel - that I have not earned it truly. Vanity has ever been my besetting sin—vanity - and fickleness. That is what I have to confess to you now before asking - you for your counsel.” - </p> - <p> - “God forbid that I should give you any counsel except that which I am - assured must be for your own well-being. Tell me all that is weighing on - your heart, and, God helping me, I will try to help you.” - </p> - <p> - “I will tell you all—all that I may tell, sir.'Tis not much to tell, - but it means a great deal to me. In brief, Mr. Wesley, a year ago I was at - Bristol and there I met a worthy man, who asked me to marry him. I felt - then that I loved him so truly that 'twould be impossible for me ever to - change, and so I gave him my promise. I had been ofttimes wooed before, - but because my heart had never been touched the neighbours all affirmed - that I had the hardest heart of any maiden in the Port. They may have been - right; but, hard-hearted or not, I believed that I loved this man, and he - sailed away satisfied that I would be true to him.” - </p> - <p> - “He was a mariner?” - </p> - <p> - “He is a master-mariner, and his ship is a fine one. He sailed for the - China Seas, and 'twas agreed that after his long voyage we were to be - married. That was, I say, a year ago, and I was true to him until——” - </p> - <p> - She faltered, she gave him a look that he could not understand, and then - all at once she flung herself down on the short coarse herbage of the - cliff, and began to weep with her hands over her face. - </p> - <p> - He strove to soothe her and comfort her, saying she had done naught that - was wrong—giving her assurance that a way out of her trouble would - surely he found if she told him all. - </p> - <p> - “What am I to do?” she cried, looking piteously up to him, with shining - eyes. “What am I to do? I got a letter from him only on Friday last, - telling me that he had had a prosperous voyage and had just brought his - ship safe to Bristol, and that he meant to come to me without delay. Oh, - sir, 'twas only when I had that letter I found that I no longer loved him - as I did a year ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Is there another man who has come between you, my child?” he asked - gravely. - </p> - <p> - “Heaven help me! there is another,” she faltered. - </p> - <p> - “And does he know that you are bound by a promise to someone else? If so, - believe me he is a dishonourable man, and you must dismiss him from your - thought,” said he. - </p> - <p> - She shook her head. - </p> - <p> - “He is an honourable man; he has never said a word of love to me. He knows - nothing of my love for him. He at least is innocent.” - </p> - <p> - “If he be indeed a true man he would, I know, give you counsel which I now - offer to you; even if he suspected—and I cannot but think that if he - sees you and converses with you, no matter how seldom, he will suspect—the - sad truth—he will leave your side and so give you an opportunity of - forgetting him, and all may be well.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir, think you that 'tis so easy to forget?” - </p> - <p> - “Have you not just given me an instance of it, Nelly? But no; I will not - think that you have forgotten the one to whom you gave your promise. I - like rather to believe that that affection remains unchanged in your - heart, although it be for a while obscured. You remember how we lost our - way on the morning of yesterday? We saw not the shore; 'twas wreathed in - mist; but the solid shore was here all the same, and in another hour a - break dispersed the mist which up till then had been much more real to us - than the shore; the mist once gone, we saw the substance where we had seen - the shadow. Ah, dear child, how often is not the shadow of a love taken - for the true—the abiding love itself. Now dry your tears and tell me - when you expect your true lover to come to you.” - </p> - <p> - “He may arrive at any time. He will come by the first vessel that leaves - Bristol river. He must have left already. Oh, that sail out there may be - carrying him hither—that sail——” - </p> - <p> - She stopped suddenly, and made a shade of one hand over her eyes while she - gazed seaward. After a few moments of gazing she sprang to her feet - crying: - </p> - <p> - “The boats—you see them out there? What has happened that they are - flying for the shore? They should not be returning until the night.” - </p> - <p> - He looked out across the waters and saw the whole fleet of fishing smacks - making for the shore with every sail spread. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps the boats have been unusually successful and thus have no need to - tarry on the fishing ground,” he suggested. - </p> - <p> - She remained with her eyes upon them for a long time. A look of - bewilderment was upon her face while she cried: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, everything is topsy-turvy in these days! Never have I known all the - boats to make for the shore in such fashion, unless a great storm was to - windward, and yet now——” - </p> - <p> - She caught him by the arm suddenly after she had remained peering out to - the southern horizon with an arched hand over her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Look there—there!” she said in a whisper, pointing seaward. “Tell - me what you see there. I misdoubt my own eyes. Is there a line of white - just under the sky?” - </p> - <p> - He followed the direction of her finger. For some moments he failed to see - anything out of the common; the sea horizon was somewhat blurred—that - was all. But suddenly there came a gleam as of the sun quivering upon a - thin sword blade of white steel out there—it quivered as might a - feather in the wind. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis a white wave,” he said. “See, it has already widened. A great wave - rolling shoreward.” - </p> - <p> - “List, list,” she whispered. - </p> - <p> - He put his hand behind his ear. There came through the air the hollow boom - of distant thunder, or was it the breaking of a heavy sea upon a rocky - coast? The sound of many waters came fitfully landward, and at the same - moment a fierce gust of wind rushed over the water—they marked its - footsteps—it was stamping with the hoofs of a war-horse on the - surface of the deep as it charged down upon the coast. - </p> - <p> - Before the two persons on the cliff felt it on their faces, bending their - bodies against its force, a wisp of mist had come over the sun. Far away - there was a black cloud—small, but it looked to be dense as a cannon - ball. She pointed it out, and these were her words: - </p> - <p> - “A cannon ball!—a cannon ball!” - </p> - <p> - The gust of wind had passed; they could hear the trees of the park - complaining at first and then roaring, with the creaking of branches as it - clove its way through them. Flocks of sea birds filled the air—all - were flying inland. Their fitful cries came in all notes, from the - plaintive whistle of the curlew and the hoarse shriek of the gull to the - bass boom of a bittern. - </p> - <p> - Then the cannon ball cloud seemed to break into pieces in a flame of blue - fire, more dazzling than any lightning that ever flashed from heaven to - earth, and at the same instant the sun was blotted out, though no cloud - had been seen approaching it; the pall seemed to have dropped over the - disc, not to have crept up to it. - </p> - <p> - “A storm is on us,” he said. “Whither can we fly for shelter?” - </p> - <p> - “The stones of Red Tor,” she replied; “that is the nearest place. There is - plenty of shelter among the stones.” - </p> - <p> - “Come,” he cried, “there is no moment to be lost. Never have I known a - storm fall so quickly.” - </p> - <p> - She was tarrying on the cliff brow watching the progress of the fishing - boats. - </p> - <p> - “They will be in safety before disaster can overtake them,” she said. - </p> - <p> - Then she turned to hasten inland with him; but a sound that seemed to - wedge its way, so to speak, through the long low boom, with scarcely a - quiver in it, of the distant thunder, made her look round. - </p> - <p> - She cried out, her finger pointing to a white splash under the very - blackness of the cloud that now covered half the hollow of the sky dome - with lead. - </p> - <p> - “Never have I seen the like save only once, while the great gale was upon - us returning from Georgia,” said he. “'Tis a waterspout.” - </p> - <p> - It was a small spiral that came whirling along the surface of the water - whence it had sprung, and it made a loud hissing sound, with the swish of - broken water in it. It varied in height from three feet to twenty, until - it had become a thick pillar of molten glass, with branching capitals that - broke into flakes of sea-foam spinning into the drift. Its path through - the sea was like the scythe-sweep of a hurricane on the shore. Its wake - was churned up like white curd, and great waves fled from beneath its - feet. - </p> - <p> - Wesley and his companion stood in astonishment, watching that wonder. Its - course was not directly for the cliff where they were standing; but they - saw that if it reached the shore it would do so a hundred yards or - thereabouts to the westward. - </p> - <p> - They were not wrong. It reached the shore not farther away from them. It - struck the sand where the sun had dried it, and in a moment it had scooped - out a hollow eight or ten feet deep; then it whirled on to the shingle. - They heard the noise as of the relapse of a great wave among the pebbles, - sweeping them down beneath the scoop of its talons; only now it seemed as - if the prow of a frigate had dashed into the ridge of pebbles and was - pounding its way through them. It was a moving pillar of stones that - struck furiously against the stones of the cliff—an avalanche in the - air that thundered against the brow, breaking away a ton of rock, and - turning it into an avalanche that slid down to the enormous gap made in - the shingle. At the same instant there was the roar of a cataract as the - whirling flood of the waterspout broke high in the air and dropped upon - the land. It was as if a lake had fallen from the skies in a solid mass, - carrying everything before it. - </p> - <p> - It was the girl who had grasped Wesley by the arm, forcing him to rush - with her to the higher ground. Together they ran; but before they reached - it they were wading and slipping and surging through a torrent that - overflowed the cliff, and poured in the wave of a waterfall over the brink - and thundered upon the rocks beneath. - </p> - <p> - They only paused to take breath when they reached the highest ledge of the - irregular ground beyond the cliff pathway. There was a tangle of lightning - in the air—it fell from a cloud that had black flowing fringes, like - a horse's tail trailing behind it, and it was approaching the shore. They - fled for the rocks of the Bed Tor. - </p> - <p> - If he had been alone he never would have reached the place. The air was - black with rain, and he and his companion seemed to be rushing through a - cloud that had the density of velvet. It was a blind flight; but this girl - of the coast needed not the lightning torch that flared on every side of - them to guide her. She held his arm, and he suffered himself to be led by - her. She even knew where the sheltering rocks were to be found; they had - not to search for them. At the back of the slight eminence that had formed - his pulpit, half a dozen basalt boulders of unequal size lay tumbled - together. Two of them were on end and three others lay over them, the - remaining one lying diagonally across the arched entrance to what had the - appearance of the ruin of a doorway four feet high. The high coarse - herbage of the place, with here and there a bramble branch, was thick at - this place, and if the girl and the companions of her childhood had not - been accustomed to play their games here, calling the hollow between the - stones their cave sometimes, their palace when it suited them, it would - have escaped notice. - </p> - <p> - She bent her head and crept under the stones of the roof, and he followed - her. They had a depth of scarcely three feet behind them, for the bank of - the mound against which the stones lay sloped naturally outward, and the - height was not more than four feet; but it was a shelter, although they - had to kneel upon its hard floor. It was a shelter, and they had need of - one just then. The cloud had burst over them just as they reached their - hospitable cleft in the rocks, and the seventh plague of Egypt had fallen - upon the rude amphitheatre of the Red Tor—it was hail mingled with - fire; and when a pause came, as it did with a suddenness that was more - appalling than the violence of the storm, the ninth plague was upon them. - The darkness might have been felt. They could see nothing outside. They - knew that only ten yards away there was another pile of rocks with a few - stunted trees springing from their crevices; but they could not even see - this landmark. Farther away, on a small plateau, was the celebrated - rocking-stone of Red Tor; but it seemed to have been blotted out. They - could hear the sound of the wind shrieking over the land, making many - strange whistlings and moanings through the hollows among the stones—they - could hear the sound of thousands of runnels down the banks, but they - could see nothing. - </p> - <p> - In that awful black pause Wesley began to repeat the words of the - eighteenth Psalm: - </p> - <p> - “The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my - strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and my high tower.... - </p> - <p> - “In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried unto my God: he heard my - voice out of his temple, and my cry before him, even into his ears. - </p> - <p> - “Then the earth shook and trembled; the foundations also of the hills - moved and were shaken, because he was wroth. - </p> - <p> - “There went up a smoke out of his nostrils, and fire out of his mouth - devoured: coals were kindled by it. - </p> - <p> - “He bowed the heavens also, and came down: and darkness was under his - feet. - </p> - <p> - “And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly: yea, he did fly upon the wings of - the wind. - </p> - <p> - “He made darkness his secret place; his pavilion round about him were dark - waters and thick clouds of the skies. - </p> - <p> - “At the brightness that was before him his thick clouds passed, hail - stones and coals of fire. - </p> - <p> - “The Lord also thundered in the heavens, and the Highest gave his voice; - hail stones and coals of fire. - </p> - <p> - “Yea, he sent out his arrows, and scattered them; and he shot out - lightnings, and discomfited them. - </p> - <p> - “Then the channels of waters were seen, and the foundations of the world - were discovered at thy rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of the breath of thy - nostrils.... - </p> - <p> - “For thou wilt light my candle: the Lord my God will enlighten my - darkness.” - </p> - <p> - Before he had come to the last stanza the battle of the elements had - followed the brief truce. - </p> - <p> - The first flash was blinding, but before they had instinctively put their - hands up to their eyes they had seen every twig of the skeleton trees - outlined against the background of fire—they had seen the black bulk - of the rocking-stone, and for the first time they noticed that it had the - semblance of a huge hungry beast crouching for a leap. The thunder that - followed seemed to set the world shaking with the sway of the - rocking-stone when someone had put it in motion. - </p> - <p> - “Is it true?—is it, indeed, true?” cried the girl between the peals - of thunder. He felt her hands tighten upon his arm. - </p> - <p> - “The Rock of Ages is true,” he said; but the second peal swallowed up his - words. - </p> - <p> - He heard her voice when the next flash made a cleft in the cloud: - </p> - <p> - “Is it true—the prophecy—has it come?” - </p> - <p> - Then he knew what was in her mind. - </p> - <p> - “Do you fear it?” he cried, and he turned his face toward her. Another - flaring sword made its stroke from the heavens, and by its blaze he saw - that she was smiling while she shook her head. - </p> - <p> - He knew that she had no fear. Across his own mind there had flashed the - same thought that had come to her, taking the form of the question which - she had put to him: “Is the prophecy about to be realised?” - </p> - <p> - He felt perfectly tranquil in the midst of the storm; and the reflection - that the tranquillity of the girl was due to his influence was sweet to - him. The roar of the thunder had become almost continuous. They seemed to - be the centre of a circle of livid flame. The intervals of darkness were - less numerous than those during which the whole sky became illuminated. - The floods came rather more fitfully. For a few minutes at a time it - seemed as if an ocean had been displaced, as if an ocean had been - suspended above them, and then suddenly dropped with the crash of a - waterfall. Immediately afterward there would be a complete cessation of - rain and the crash of waters. The thunder sounded very lonely. - </p> - <p> - More than once there were intervals of sudden clearness in the air. For - minutes at a time they could see, even after the blinding flash of a - javelin of lightning, every object outside their sheltering place; then - suddenly all would be blotted out. At such moments it seemed as if the - blackness above them was solid—a vast mountain of unhewn marble - falling down upon them. They had the impression of feeling the awful - weight of its mass beginning to crush them. They became breathless—gasping. - </p> - <p> - Once a flash fell close to them, and there was a noise of splintering wood - and the hiss of water into which a red-hot bar has been dipped. A second - afterward a blazing brand was flung in front of them, and the smoke hung - dense in the heavy air. By the light that was cast around they saw that - one of the trees growing on the little mound close to them had been struck - and hurled where it lay. - </p> - <p> - It blazed high for a few minutes, and then the girl cried out. She had got - upon her feet, though forced to keep her head bent. He thought that she - was pointing out to him the thing that had happened; but in a moment he - perceived that her eyes were fixed upon some object beyond the mound that - had been struck. It was, however, only when the next flash came that he - saw out there the figure of a man—he recognised him: it was - Pritchard. - </p> - <p> - He stood bareheaded with his sackcloth garment clinging to him—the - lightning was reflected from it as if it had been made of steel, for the - water was streaming down its folds—on the summit of the rocks that - were piled together on the slope of the bank not twenty yards away. He was - gesticulating, but his bare arms were above his head. - </p> - <p> - So much Wesley saw in the single glimpse that was allowed to him. After - the flash the darkness swallowed him up once more; but even before the - next flash came he was visible, though faintly, by the light of the - blazing tree, for the trunk had not fallen directly between where he was - standing and the shelter. The red light flickered over his body, and - showed his attitude—his hands were now clasped over his head, and he - was facing the quarter whence the storm was coming. Then there fell - another torrent of rain and hail, and he was hidden by that watery sheet - for some minutes. Suddenly, as before, the rain ceased, and there was - another interval of clearness, that showed him standing with his arms - extended. And when the thunder peal rolled away his voice was heard - calling out passionately, though his words were indistinct; they were - smothered in the noise of the thousand torrents of the Tor. - </p> - <p> - In a moment Wesley had pushed himself through the opening of his shelter - and hurried to his side. He caught him by the arm. - </p> - <p> - “Come!” he cried. “Have you not read, 'Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy - God'? Man! is this a time to seek destruction?” - </p> - <p> - The man turned upon him. - </p> - <p> - “It has come—it has come—the great and terrible Day, and I am - its prophet!” he shouted. “You did not believe me. I was mocked more than - any prophet; but it has come. All has been fulfilled, except calling to - the rocks and the mountains. No voice has called to them but mine. I have - called to the rocks to cover me and the hills to hide, but none else. But - you will join me—you will add your voice to mine that the Scriptures - may be fulfilled, John Wesley. Call upon them as I do. Fall upon us, O - rocks—cover us, O hills!” - </p> - <p> - He stretched out his arms once more and bowed his head on every side, - shouting out his words, amid the blaze of the lightning and the rattle of - the thunder. - </p> - <p> - “Wretch!” cried Wesley, but then he checked himself. He had now no doubt - that the man had become a maniac. “My poor friend—brother—let - me be your guide at this time. Let us talk over the matter together. There - is a place of safety at hand.” - </p> - <p> - “What, you, John Wesley, talk of safety; know you not in this dread hour - that the Scripture must be fulfilled?” shouted the man. “What will your - judgment be who would make the Holy Writ to be a vain thing? I tell you, - sir, that it will be a lie if you do not join with me in calling upon the - rocks to fall upon us? This is the place that was prophesied of—these - are the very rocks—yonder are the very hills. They will not move—they - must be stubborn until another voice be joined with mine. O rocks, fall—fall—fall!” - </p> - <p> - Wesley grasped one of the frantic arms that were outstretched. He could - not temporise with the wretch again. - </p> - <p> - “You shall not dare!” he cried. “I may not stand by and hear such a - mockery.” - </p> - <p> - The man wrenched his arm free. - </p> - <p> - “The mockery is yours, sir,” he shouted. “You will not save the truth of - the Scriptures when it is left for you to do so. Think of your own - condemnation, man—think that there are only two of us here, and if - we remain silent we are guilty of blasphemy, for we are preventing the - fulfilment of this prophecy.” - </p> - <p> - A discharge of lightning that had the semblance of a pair of fiery fetters - went from hill to hill, and when Wesley recovered the use of his eyes he - saw that the man was pointing to the slight eminence on which the - rocking-stone was poised. - </p> - <p> - “It has been shown to me—thank God that it has been shown to me - before 'tis too late,” he cried. “If you, John Wesley, refuse to aid me, - power shall be given me alone to fulfil the Scriptures. The rocks shall - obey me. I am the chosen vessel.” - </p> - <p> - A torrent of rain swept between them, with the sound of a huge wave - striking upon the flat face of a cliff. Wesley spread out his arms. One of - them was grasped by the girl, who had crept to his side, and he felt - himself guided back to the shelter. - </p> - <p> - He lay back upon the sloping rock thoroughly exhausted, and closed his - eyes. - </p> - <p> - A minute had passed before he opened them again, hearing the girl cry out. - </p> - <p> - Another of the comparatively clear intervals had come, and it was - sufficient to show the great rocking-stone in motion and the figure that - was swaying it. To and fro it went on its heels' keel, the man making - frantic efforts to increase the depth to which it rose and fell. To and - fro, to and fro it swayed, and every fall was deeper than the last, until - at last it was swinging so that the side almost touched the rock beyond. - The man thrust his shoulder beneath the shoulder of the moving mass of - stone, pushing it back every time it bowed toward him. Never before had it - swung like this. At last it staggered on to the edge of the cup on which - it was poised—staggered, but recovered itself and slipped into its - place again. It swung back and jerked out of the cup as before. One more - swing, with the man flinging his whole weight upon it; for a second it - trembled on the edge of the hollow fulcrum, and then—it failed to - return. It toppled slowly over upon the granite rock. For a moment its - descent was retarded by the man, who was crushed like a walnut beneath it, - then with a crash of broken crags it fell over the brink of the height to - the ground, fifteen feet beneath. - </p> - <p> - Wesley left the girl with her hands pressed against her eyes and hurried - to the fallen mass. A man's hand projected from beneath it—nothing - more. But for this it would have been impossible to say that a body was - beneath it. The mighty stone did not even lie flat on the ground; it had - made a hollow for itself in the soft earth. It had buried itself to the - depth of a foot, and beneath its base Pritchard lay buried. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ot until the - afternoon had the storm moderated sufficiently to allow of Wesley and his - companion returning to Porthawn. For a full hour after the fall of the - rocking-stone they remained together in the shelter. They were both - overcome by the horror of what they had witnessed. Happily the charred - crown of branches which remained on the tree that had been struck down, - after the rain had extinguished the blaze, was enough to hide the fallen - stone, and that ghastly white thing that lay thrust out from beneath it - like a splash of lichen frayed from the crag. But for another hour the - tempest continued, only with brief intervals, when a dense and smoky - greyness took the place of the blackness. It seemed as if the storm could - not escape from the boundary of the natural amphitheatre in the centre of - which was the mound which Wesley had used as his pulpit; and to that man - whose imagination was never a moment inactive, the whole scene suggested a - picture which he had once seen of the struggle of a thousand demons of the - Pit, around a sanctified place, for the souls of those who were safe - within the enclosure. There were the swirling black clouds every one of - which let loose a fiery flying bolt, while the winds yelled horribly as - any fiends that might be struggling with obscene tooth and claw, to crush - the souls that were within the sacred circle. The picture had, he knew, - been an allegory; he wondered if it were not possible that certain scenes - in Nature might be equally allegorical. He hoped that he was not offending - when he thought of this citadel of his faith—this pulpit from which - he had first preached in Cornwall—being assailed by the emissaries - of the Arch-enemy, and jet remaining unmoved as a tower built to withstand - every assault of the foe. - </p> - <p> - The whole scene assumed in his imagination a series of fierce assaults, in - all of which the enemy was worsted and sent flying over the plain; he - could hear the shrieks of the disappointed fiends—the long wail of - the wounded that followed every impulse; and then, after a brief interval, - there came the renewed assault—the circling tumult seeking for a - vulnerable point of entrance. But there it stood, that pulpit from whose - height he had preached the Gospel to the thousands who had come to hear - him, and had gone forth to join the forces that are evermore at conflict - with the powers of evil in the world, There stood his pulpit unmoved in - the midst of the tumult. He accepted the symbolism, and he was lifted up - by the hope that his work sent forth from this place would live untouched - by the many conflicts of time. - </p> - <p> - He was able to speak encouraging words to his companion every time the - thunder passed away; and he was more than ever conscious of the happiness - of having her near to him at this time. He knew that he had loved her - truly; for his love had been true enough and strong enough to compel him - to give her the advice that precluded his ever being able to tell her of - his own feeling for her. The joy of her gracious companionship was not for - him; but he would do all that in him lay to assure her happiness. - </p> - <p> - He knew that he was able to soothe her now that she had received a shock - that would have been too much for most women. The horror of the mode of - the man's death, quite apart from the terror of the tempest, was enough to - prostrate any ordinary man or woman. It was very sweet to him to feel her - cling to his arm when they crawled back to their shelter. He laid his hand - tenderly upon the hand that clasped him, and he refrained from saying a - word to her at that moment. When the storm had moderated in some measure - he spoke to her; and he was too wise to make any attempt to turn her - thoughts from the tragedy which, he knew, could not possibly fade from her - mind even with the lapse of years. - </p> - <p> - “He predicted truly so far as he himself was concerned,” he said gravely. - “The end came for him as he said. Poor wretch! He may have possessed all - his life a curious sense beyond that allowed to others—an instinct—it - may not have been finer than the instinct of a bird. I have read that one - of the desert birds will fly an hundred miles to where a camel has fallen - by the way. The camel itself has, we are told, an instinct that guides it - to water. But I do not say that he was not an agent of evil. There is - evidence to prove that sorcery can give the power to predict what seems to - be the truth, but it is only a juggling of the actual truth. The manner of - that poor wretch's death makes one feel suspicious. He predicted the end - of the world; well, the world came to an end, so far as he was concerned. - You perceive the jugglery? But his was a weak mind. He may have been lured - on to his own destruction. However this may be, his end was a terrible - one. I grieve that it was left for us to witness it.” - </p> - <p> - She shook her head. - </p> - <p> - “I shall never forget to-day,” she said. “I had a feeling more than once - when the lightning was brighter than common, and the world seemed to shake - under the rattle of the thunderclap, that the next moment would be the - last.” - </p> - <p> - “There was no terror on your face—I saw it once under the fiercest - flash,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “At first—ah, I scarce know how I felt,” said she. “But when I heard - your words saying, 'Rock of Ages,' my fear seemed to vanish.” - </p> - <p> - “The lines ring with the true confidence that only the true Rock of Ages - can inspire,” said he. - </p> - <p> - And thus he gradually led her thoughts away from the ghastly thing that - she had seen, though he had begun talking to her about it. At this time - the storm, which had been hurtling around the brim of the huge basin of - the valley, had succeeded in its Titanic efforts to free itself from - whatever influence it was held it fettered within the circle; and though - the rain continued, there was only an occasional roll of thunder. The roar - that now filled the valley was that of the sea. It came to them after the - storm like the voice of an old friend shouting to them to be of good - cheer. - </p> - <p> - And all that the preacher said to her was founded upon the text that the - sea shouted for them to hear. For a time at least the horror that she had - looked upon passed out of her mind; and when he pointed out to her that - the rain had almost ceased, she suffered herself to be led away from their - place of shelter by the further side of the central mound, without - straining her eyes to see where the rocking-stone lay; she had not even a - chance of noting the strangeness brought about by the disappearance of a - landmark that she had seen since she was a child. But as they walked - rapidly toward the little port, a cold fear took hold of her. - </p> - <p> - “Can a single cottage remain after such a storm—can anyone be left - alive?” she cried, and he saw that the tears were on her face. - </p> - <p> - “Do not doubt it,” he said. “To doubt it were to doubt the goodness of - God. Some men are coming toward us. I have faith that they bring us good - news.” - </p> - <p> - Within a few minutes they saw that it was Mr. Hartwell and two of his men - who had come in search of Wesley. Before they met, Nelly had asked how the - port had fared—the boats, what of the boats? - </p> - <p> - “All's well,” was the response, and her hands clasped themselves in joy - and gratitude. - </p> - <p> - Never had such a tempest been thrown on the coast, Hartwell said, but - absolutely no damage had been done to building, boat, or human being. Some - trees had been struck by the lighting in the outskirts of the park, and - doubtless others had suffered further inland; but the fishing boats having - had signs of the approach of the storm, had at once made for the shore, - and happily were brought to the leeward of the little wharf before the - first burst had come. - </p> - <p> - When he had told his tale he enquired if either of them had seen anything - of Pritchard. - </p> - <p> - “He appeared suddenly where we saw him yesterday,” he continued, “and his - cry was that we should join him in calling upon the rocks to fall on us. - He would not be persuaded to take shelter, and he was seen to wander into - what seemed to be the very heart of the storm.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley shook his head, and told his story. - </p> - <p> - The man whose prophecy of the end of the world had spread within certain - limits a terror that was recalled by many firesides, and formed a landmark - in the annals of two generations, was the only one who perished in the - great thunderstorm, which undoubtedly took place within a day or two of - the date assigned by him to see the destruction of the world. - </p> - <p> - John Wesley had no choice left him in the matter. His host insisted on his - going into a bed that had been made as warm as his copper pan of charcoal - could make it, after partaking of a spiced posset compounded in accordance - with a recipe that was guaranteed to prevent the catching of a cold, no - matter how definitely circumstances conspired in favour of a cold. - </p> - <p> - His garments had become sodden with rain from the waterspout at the outset - of the storm, and he had been forced to sit for several hours in the same - clothes. He could not hope to escape a cold unless by the help of this - famous posset, the housekeeper affirmed; and she was amazed to find him - absolutely docile in this matter. She had been voluble in her entreaties; - but she came to the conclusion that she might have spared herself half her - trouble; she had taken it for granted that she was talking to an ordinary - man, who would scoff at the virtues of her posset, and then make all his - friends miserable by his complaints when he awoke with a cold on him. Mr. - Wesley was the only sensible man she had ever met, she declared to her - master, with the sinister expression of a hope that his example of - docility would not be neglected by others. - </p> - <p> - He went to bed, and after listening for some hours to the roaring of the - sea, he fell asleep. The evening had scarcely come, but he had never felt - wearier in all his life. - </p> - <p> - He slept for eight hours, and when he awoke he knew that he had done well - to yield, without the need for persuasion, to the advice of the - housekeeper. He felt refreshed in every way; and after lying awake for an - hour, he arose, dressed himself, and left the house. This impulse to take - a midnight walk was by no means unusual with him. He had frequently found - himself the better for an hour or two spent in the darkness, especially - beside the sea. Midnight was just past. If he were to remain in the air - for some time, he might, he thought, be able to sleep until - breakfast-time. - </p> - <p> - The night was cool, without being cold, and there was a sweet freshness in - the air which had certainly been wanting when he had walked along the - cliffs in the afternoon. The thunderstorm did not seem at that time to - have cleared the atmosphere. He was rather surprised to find that there - was such a high sea rolling at this time, and he came to the conclusion - that there had been a gale while he was asleep. Clouds were still hiding - the sky, but they held no rain. - </p> - <p> - He shunned the cliff track, going in the opposite direction, which led him - past the village, and on to the steep sandy bay with its occasional little - peninsulas of high rocks, the surfaces of which were not covered even by - Spring tides. Very quiet the little port seemed at this hour. Not a light - was in any window—not a sound came from any of the cottages. He - stood for a long time on the little wharf looking at the silent row of - cottages. That one which had the rose-bush trained over the porch was the - home of the Polwheles, he knew, and he remained with his eyes fixed upon - it. It seemed as if this had been the object of his walk—to stand - thus in front of that house, as any youthful lover might stand beneath the - lattice that he loved. - </p> - <p> - He had his thoughts to think, and he found that this was the time to think - them. They were all about the girl who slept beyond that window. He - wondered if he had ever loved her before this moment. If he had really - loved her, how was it that he had never before been led to this place to - watch the house where she lay asleep? Was it possible that he had fancied - he knew her before he had passed those hours with her when the storm was - raging around them? He felt that without this experience he could not - possibly have known what manner of girl she was. - </p> - <p> - And now that he had come to know her the knowledge came to him with the - thought that she was not for him. - </p> - <p> - He had set out in the morning feeling that perhaps he had been too hasty - in coming to the conclusion that because, when far away from her he had - been thinking a great deal of his own loneliness and the joy that her - companionship would bring to him, he loved her. That was why he had wished - to put himself to the test, and he had fancied that he was doing so when - he had walked in the opposite direction to that in which the village lay - so that he might avoid the chance of meeting her. - </p> - <p> - But in spite of his elaborate precautions—he actually thought that - it had shown ingenuity on his part—he had met her, and he had - learned without putting the question to her that she was not for him. He - recalled what his feeling had been at that moment. He had fancied that he - knew all that her words meant to him; but he had deceived himself; it was - only now that he knew exactly the measure of what they meant to him. It - seemed to him that he had known nothing of the girl before he had passed - those dark hours by her side. - </p> - <p> - At that time it was as if all the world had been blotted out, only he and - she being left alone. - </p> - <p> - This feeling he now knew was what was meant by loving—this feeling - that there was nothing left in the world—that nothing mattered so - long as he and she were together—that death itself would be welcome - if only it did not sunder them. - </p> - <p> - And he had gained that knowledge only to know that they were to be - sundered. - </p> - <p> - It was a bitter thought, and for a time, as he stood there with his eyes - fixed upon the cottage, he felt as if so far as he was concerned the world - had come to an end. The happiness which he had seen before him as plainly - as if it had been a painted picture—a picture of the fireside in the - home that he hoped for—had been blotted out from before his eyes, - and in its stead there was a blank. It did not matter how that blank might - be filled in, it would never contain the picture that had been torn away - from before him when she had of her own free will told him the story of - her love. - </p> - <p> - He felt the worst that any man can feel, for the worst comes only when a - man cries out to himself: - </p> - <p> - “Too late—too late!” - </p> - <p> - He was tortured by that perpetual question of “Why? Why? Why?” - </p> - <p> - Why had he not come to Cornwall the previous year? Why had he not seen her - before she had gone to Bristol and given her promise to the other man? - </p> - <p> - But this was only in the floodtide of his bitterness; after a space it - subsided. More reasonable thoughts came to him. Who was he that he should - rail against what had been ordered by that Heaven in whose ordering of - things he had often expressed his perfect faith? What would he say of any - man who should have such rebellious thoughts? Could this be the true love—this - that made him rebel against the decree of an all-wise Providence? If it - was true it would cause him to think not of his own happiness, but of - hers. - </p> - <p> - Had he been thinking all the time of his own happiness? he asked himself. - Had she been denied to him on this account? He feared that it was so. He - recalled how he had been thinking of her, and he had many pangs of - self-reproach when he remembered how in all the pictures of the future - that his imagination had drawn he was the central figure. He felt that his - aim had been an ignoble one. Selfishness had been the foundation of his - love, and therefore he deserved the punishment that had fallen upon him. - </p> - <p> - 'He continued his walk and went past the cottage on which his eyes had - lingered. For a mile he strolled, lost in thought along the sandy bay, - disturbing the sea birds that were wading about the shallow pools in - search of shell fish. The tide was on the ebb and he walked down the - little ridges of wet beach until he found himself at the edge of that - broad grey sea that sent its whispering ripples to his feet. He had always - liked to stand thus in winter as well as summer. Within an hour of dawn - the sea seemed very patient. It was waiting for what was to come—for - the uprising of the sun to turn its grey into gold. - </p> - <p> - He never failed to learn the lesson of the sea in all its moods; and now - he felt strengthened by looking out to the eastern sky, though it was - still devoid of light. He would have patience. He would wait and have - faith. Light was coming to the world, and happy was the one to whom was - given the mission of proclaiming that dawn—the coming of the Light - of the World. - </p> - <p> - Even when he resumed his stroll after he had looked across the dun waters - he became conscious of a change in the eastern sky. The clouds that still - clung to that quarter were taking on to themselves the pallor of a pearl, - and the sky edge of the sea was lined with the tender glaze that appears - on the inner surface of a white shell, and its influence was felt upon the - objects of the coast. The ridges of the peninsular rocks glimmered, and - the outline of the whole coast became faintly seen. It was coming—the - dawn for which the world was waiting was nigh. The doubts born of the - night were ready to fly away as that great heron which rose in front of - him fled with winnowing wings across the surface of the sea. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he first faint - breath of the dawn—that sigh of light of which the air was scarcely - conscious—made him aware as he walked along the sands of the fact - that the beach was strewn with wreckage. He found himself examining a - broken spar upon which he had struck his foot. Further on he stumbled over - a hen-coop, and then again a fragment that looked like the cover of a - hatchway. - </p> - <p> - He had heard nothing about a vessel's having come ashore during the - tempest of the morning; but there was nothing remarkable in the sudden - appearing of wreckage on this wild Cornish coast. Almost every tide washed - up something that had once been part of a gallant ship. Wreckage came - without anyone hearing of the wreck from which it had come. He examined - the broken spar, and his fancy showed him the scene at the foundering of - such a ship as the <i>Gloriana</i>, whose carcase had been so marvellously - uncovered on the Sunday evening. He had had enough experience of seafaring - to be able to picture the details of the wreckage of such a ship. - </p> - <p> - He left the beach and went on to the ascent of the higher part of the - shore, thinking that it might be that when the dawn strengthened it might - reveal the shape of some craft that had run ashore on the outer reef at - this dangerous part of the coast; and even before he reached the elevated - ground the dawn light had spread its faint gauze over the sea, and the - shapes of the rocks were plain. He looked out carefully, scanning the - whole coast, but he failed to see any wreck between the horns of the bay. - </p> - <p> - But when he had continued his slow walk for a few hundred yards he fancied - that he saw some objects that looked dark against the pale sands. At first - he thought that he was looking at a rock that had some resemblance to the - form of a man; but a movement of a portion of the object showed that it - was indeed a man who was standing there. - </p> - <p> - Wesley had no mind for a companion on this stroll of his, so he went a - short way inland in order to save himself from being seen, and he did not - return to the sandy edge of the high ground until he judged that he had - gone beyond the spot where he had seen the man. Turning about, he found - that he had done what he intended: he saw the dark figure walking from - where he had been, in the direction of the sea. - </p> - <p> - But by this time the light had so increased that he was able to see that - the man was walking away from the body of another that was lying on the - beach. - </p> - <p> - He had scarcely noticed this before the man stopped, looked back, and - slowly returned to the body. But the moment he reached it Wesley was - amazed to see him throw up his arms as if in surprise and then fling - himself down on the body with his hands upon its throat. - </p> - <p> - Wesley knew nothing except that the man's attitude was that of one who was - trying to strangle another. But this was surely enough. He shouted out and - rushed toward the place with a menace. - </p> - <p> - The man was startled; his head went back with a jerk, but his hands did - not leave the other's throat. Wesley had to drag him back by the collar, - and even then he did not relax his hold until the body had been lifted up - into a sitting position. The moment the man's fingers were loosed the head - fell back upon the sand. - </p> - <p> - Wesley threw himself between the two, and the instant that he turned upon - the assailant he recognised John Bennet. - </p> - <p> - “Wretch!” he cried, “what is it that you would do? What is it that you - have done—murderer?” - </p> - <p> - Bennet stared at him as if stupefied. Then he burst into a laugh, but - stopped himself suddenly. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley, is it?” he cried. “Oh, sir, is't you indeed that pulls my - hands off his throat? There is something for the Devil to laugh at in - that.” - </p> - <p> - “Man, if you be a man and not a fiend, would you strangle one whom the sea - has already drowned?” cried Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “I have the right,” shouted Bennet, “for he would be dead by now if I had - not succoured him.” - </p> - <p> - “If it be true that you saved him from an imminent death, at that time, - wherefore should you strive to murder him now?” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “I did not see his face then—it was dark when I stumbled on him. - Only when I turned about when the dawn broke I saw who he was. Go your - ways, Mr. Wesley. The man is mine by every law of fair play. Stand not - between us, sir, or you shall suffer for it.” - </p> - <p> - “Monster, think you that I shall obey you while a breath remains in my - body? I shall withstand you to the death, John Bennet; you shall have two - murders laid at your door instead of one.” - </p> - <p> - The man laughed as before. Then he said: - </p> - <p> - “That is the point where the devils begin to laugh—ho! ho! John - Wesley!” - </p> - <p> - “I have heard one of them,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you fool, to stay my hand! Know you not that the man lying there is - none other than he whom Nelly Polwhele has promised to marry?” - </p> - <p> - “And is not that a sufficient reason why you should do your best to save - him—not take his life away?” - </p> - <p> - For more than a minute the man was too astonished to speak. At last he - said: - </p> - <p> - “Is it that you are mad, John Wesley? Heard you not what I said?” - </p> - <p> - “Every word,” replied Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “You cannot have taken in my words,” the other whispered. “Think, sir, - that is the foolish thing that stands between you and her—you love - her—I have seen that.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0293.jpg" alt="0293 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0293.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “And I stand between you and him—that is enough for the present - moment,” said Wesley quickly, facing the man, whom he noticed sidling - round ready to leap upon the body lying on the beach. - </p> - <p> - Bennet saw that his cunning was overmatched. “Fool! I cry again,” he said - in a low tone. “Would not I slay a score such as you and he for her sake? - A man's soul can only be lost once, and I am ready to go to perdition for - her—I have counted the cost. The best of the bargain is with me! Out - of my way, sir—out of my way!” - </p> - <p> - He took a few steps back, preparing to rush at the other. Wesley kept his - eyes upon him and stood with his feet firmly planted to stand against his - violence. But before the man could make his rush there was sudden flash of - light in his face, dazzling him and Wesley as well. The light shifted. - </p> - <p> - Wesley turned to see whence it came. There was the sound of a hard boot on - the pebbles and a man's voice said: - </p> - <p> - “Avast there! Don't move a hand. I have a pistol covering ye, and a - cutlash is in my belt.” - </p> - <p> - “You have come in good time, whoever you be,” said Wesley. “But you will - have no need to use your weapons, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, ay, but if there's a move between ye, my gentlemen, I'll make - spindrift o' your brains. Ye hear?” was the response. - </p> - <p> - The man, who had flashed his lantern upon them—the dawn was still - very faint—came beside them and showed that he had not made an empty - boast. Wesley perceived that he was one of the Preventive men, fully - armed. - </p> - <p> - He kept the blaze of his lantern on Bennet's face and then turned it on - Wesley, whom he appeared to recognise. - </p> - <p> - “In Heaven's name, sir, what's this?” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “Take no thought for us,” said Wesley. “Here lies a poor wretch washed - ashore. Give me your help to bring back life to him. No moment must be - lost—the loss of a minute may mean the loss of his life.” - </p> - <p> - He was already kneeling beside the prostrate figure. The Preventive man - followed his example. They both exclaimed in one voice: - </p> - <p> - “He is alive!” - </p> - <p> - “God be thanked,” said Wesley solemnly. “I feared——” - </p> - <p> - “You have treated him with skill, sir,” said the man. “You did not give - him a dram?” - </p> - <p> - “I have only been here a few minutes; the saving; of him from drowning is - not due to me,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - The man had his ration of rum in his knapsack, and was administering it, - Bennet standing by without a word. - </p> - <p> - “We must get help to carry him to the nearest house,” said the Preventive - man. - </p> - <p> - “I shall hasten to the village,” said Wesley. But he suddenly checked - himself. He knew that Ben-net's cunning would be equal to such a device as - to get rid of the revenue officer for the few minutes necessary to crush - the life out of the man on the sand. “No, on second thought yonder man—his - name is Bennet—will do this duty. John Bennet, you will hasten to - the nearest house—any house save Polwhele's—and return with at - least two of the fishermen. They will come hither with two oars and a - small sail—enough sailcloth to make into a hammock for the bearing - of the man with ease. You will do my bidding.” - </p> - <p> - “I will do your bidding,” said Bennet after a pause, and forthwith he - hurried away. - </p> - <p> - “What is all this, sir?” asked the man in a low tone when he had gone. “I - heard your voice and his—he is half a madman—they had the - sound of a quarrel.” - </p> - <p> - “You arrived in good time, friend,” said Wesley. “You say this man was - treated with skill in his emergency; if so, it must be placed to the - credit of John Bennet. I can say so much, but no more.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll ask no more from you, sir,” said the other, slowly and suspiciously. - “But if I heard of Ben-net's murdering a man I would believe it sooner - than any tale of his succouring one. He is a bit loose in the hatches, as - the saying is; I doubt if he will bear your message, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall make this sure by going myself,” said - </p> - <p> - Wesley. “I am of no help here; you have dealt with the half drowned before - now.” - </p> - <p> - “A score of times—and another score to the back of the first,” said - the man. “I tell you this one is well on the mend. But a warm blanket will - be more to him than an anker of Jamaica rum. You do well to follow Bennet. - Would the loan of a pistol be of any confidence to you in the job?” - </p> - <p> - “There will be no heed for such now, even if I knew how to use one,” said - Wesley. - </p> - <p> - He perceived that the man had his suspicions. He hurried away when he had - reached the track above the shingle. - </p> - <p> - It was quite light before he reached the nearest cottage, which stood - about a hundred yards east of the Port Street, and belonged to a fisherman - and boatwright named Garvice. The men and his sons had their tar-pot on - the brazier and had already begun work on a dinghy which lay keel - uppermost before them. - </p> - <p> - They looked with surprise at him when he asked if they had been long at - work. - </p> - <p> - “On'y a matter o' quartern hour,” replied the old man. - </p> - <p> - “Then you must have seen John Bennet and got his message?” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “Seen John Bennet? Ay, ay—still mad. Message? No message i' the - world. What message 'ud a hare-brainer like to 'un bear to folk wi' the - five senses o' Golmighty complete?” the old man enquired. - </p> - <p> - “Do you tell me that Bennet said naught to you about a half-drowned man - needing your help?” asked Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “No word. Even if so rigid a madman ha' carried that tale think ye we'd be - here the now?” - </p> - <p> - “'Tis as well that I came, though I thought it cruel to distrust him,” - said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - He then told the man what was needed, and before he had spoken a dozen - words the old man had thrown down his tar-brush and was signalling his - sons to run down one of the boats to the water. - </p> - <p> - “Paddle round in half the time takes t' walk,” he said. “No back breakin', - no bone shakin 's my morter. Down she goes.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley was glad to accept a seat in the stern sheets of the small boat - which was run down to the water, not twenty yards from the building shed; - and when he returned with the three boatmen to that part of the coast from - which he had walked, he found the man to whose aid he had come sitting up - and able to say a word or two to the revenue man, who was kneeling beside - him, having just taken his empty rum bottle from his mouth. - </p> - <p> - Old Garvice looked as if he felt that he had been brought from his work - under false pretences. He plodded slowly across the intervening piece of - beach a long way behind Mr. Wesley, and the Preventive man had reported - the progress to recovery made by the other before the Garvice family had - come up. The Garvices had had more than a nodding acquaintance with the - revenue authorities before this morning. - </p> - <p> - “John Bennet is a bigger rascal than I thought, and that's going far,” - said the Preventive man when Wesley told him that no message had been - given at the Port. “If I come face to face with him, them that's nigh will - see some blood-letting. Why, e'en Ned Garvice, that I've been trying to - lay a trap for this twelve year, lets bygones be bygones when there's a - foundered man to succour.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is 'un?” enquired the old man with pointed satire, looking round - with a blank face. - </p> - <p> - The bedraggled man sitting on the beach was able to smile. - </p> - <p> - “Wish I'd had the head to bid you ask Neddy Garvice to carry hither a - bottle of his French brandy—ay, the lot that you run ashore when the - cutter fouled on the bank,” said the Preventive man. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that lot? Had I got a billet from you, Freddy Wise, I'd ha' put a - stoup from the kegs o' the <i>Gorgon</i> into my pocket,” said the old man - wickedly. Mr. Wesley did not know that the <i>Gorgon</i> was a large ship - that had come ashore the previous year, and had been stripped bare by the - wreckers. “Oh, ay; the <i>Gorgon</i> for brandy and the <i>Burglarmaster</i> - for schnapps, says I, and I sticks to that object o' creed, Freddy, - whatsoe'er you says.” The <i>Bourghermeister</i> was the name of another - wreck whose stores the revenue men had been too slow to save some years - before. - </p> - <p> - But while these pleasantries were being exchanged between the men Wesley - was looking at the one in whose interests he was most concerned. He was - lying with his head supported by a crag on which Fred Wise had spread his - boat cloak. His face was frightfully pallid, and his forehead was like - wax, only across his temple there was a long ugly gash, around which the - blood had coagulated. His eyes were closed except at intervals when he - started, and they opened suddenly and began to stare rather wildly. His - arms hung down and his hands were lying limp on the beach palms up, - suggesting the helplessness of a dead man. He was clearly a large and - strongly built fellow, who could sail a ship and manage a crew, using his - head as well as his hands. - </p> - <p> - The others were looking at him critically; he was so far recovered that - they did not seem to think there was any imperative need for haste in the - matter of carrying him to a bed; although they criticised him as if he - were dead. - </p> - <p> - “Worser lads ha' gone down and heard of for nevermore,” said the old - fisherman. “Did he know that Squire Trevelyan buries free of all duty all - such as the sea washes up 'tween tides? That's the Vantage to be drowned - on these shores; but the Squire keeps that knowledge like a solemn secret; - fears there'd be a rush—they'd be jammin' one t'other amongst crags - as for who'd come foremost to his own funeral.” - </p> - <p> - “Tis no secret o' gravity, Ned Garvice, that you give orders to your boys - to carry you down in the cool o' the evening when you feel your hour's at - hand, and lay ye out trim and tidy for the flood-tide, so that ye get a - free funeral, and Parson Rodney's 'Earth t' earth' thrown into the - bargain,” said Wise. - </p> - <p> - “I've learned my sons to honour their father, and it puts 'un back a long - way in their 'struction to be face to face wi' 'un as has a hardened scoff - for his grey hairs,” said the fisherman. “Go your ways, lads, and gather - limpits so ye hear not evil words that shake your faith in your ancient - father. But what I can't see is how he got them finger-marks on his neck.” - </p> - <p> - He pointed to the man on the beach. - </p> - <p> - “They ha' the aspect o' finger marks, now ha' they not, sir?” said Wise - meaningly, turning to Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “My thought, friends, amounts to this: I have heard that in cases of - rescue from drowning quickness is most needful for the complete - restoration of the sufferer,” said Wesley. “Now, sirs, I ask you is this - the moment for light gossip, when yonder poor fellow lies as if he had not - an hour's life in his body?” - </p> - <p> - “There's summat i' that, too,” said old Garvice, as if a matter which he - had been discussing had suddenly been presented to him in an entirely new - light. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, sir,” said the Preventive man, “when a corpse has revived so far 'tis - thought best that he should have a short rest; it kind o' way knits the - body and soul together all the closer. The man is in no danger now, I - firmly believe; but, as you say, there's no need for wasting any more - time. Give us a heave under his other armpit, my lad. Heave handsomely; - there's naught but a thin halfhour 'twixt him and eternity—mind - that, and you won't jerk. Who's for his heels?” - </p> - <p> - The elder of Garvice's sons—a big lad of twenty—obeyed the - instructions of the revenue man, and Wesley and the old fisherman went to - the feet. - </p> - <p> - “'Vast hauling! Set me up on end,” said the man over whom they were - bending. He spoke in a low voice and weak; he did not seem to have - sufficient breath to make himself heard. - </p> - <p> - “Hear that?” said the fisherman with a sagacious wink. “There's the - lightsome and blithe quarter-deck voice o' your master-mariner when - warping into dock and his missus a-waitin' for 'un rosy as silk on the - pier-head.'Tis then that if so be that a man's genteel, it will out.” - </p> - <p> - “'Vast jaw, my hearty!” murmured the man wearily. - </p> - <p> - “That's the tone that fills the air wi' th' smell o' salt beef for me - whene'er I hears 'un—ay, sirs, salt beef more lifelike and lively - than this high ship-master who I trow hath ofttimes watched a ration - toddle round the cuddy table like to a guileless infant.” - </p> - <p> - “Heave all, with a will!” cried Wise, and the four men raised the other as - tenderly as a bulk so considerable could be taken off the ground, and bore - him with some staggering and heavy breathing, down to where the youngest - of the Garvice family was keeping the dinghy afloat over the rapidly - shallowing sand. - </p> - <p> - An hour later, when the day was still young, Wesley was kneeling by his - bedside giving thanks to Heaven for having allowed him to participate in - the privilege of saving a fellow-creature from death. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e slept for an - hour or two, but awoke feeling strangely unrefreshed. But he joined - Hartwell at breakfast and heard the news that the latter had acquired - during his usual half-hour's stroll through the village. - </p> - <p> - After shaking his guest warmly by the hand, Hartwell cried: - </p> - <p> - “What, Mr. Wesley, was it that you did not believe you had adventure - enough for one Summer's day, that you must needs fare forth in search of - others before sunrise?” - </p> - <p> - Wesley laughed. - </p> - <p> - “I ventured nothing, my good friend,” he said. “I came upon the - shipwrecked man by the blessing of God, in good time. I have been - wondering since I rose if he had suffered shipwreck. Did you learn so much - at the village—and pray hath he fully recovered himself?” - </p> - <p> - “I dare not say fully, but he has recovered himself enough to be able to - tell his story,” replied Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - “And he was wrecked?” - </p> - <p> - “Only swamped at sea. He is a ship-master, Snowdon, by name, but 'twas not - his own craft that went down, but only a miserable coasting ketch that - ventured from Bristol port to Poole with a cargo of pottery—something - eminently sinkable. Strange to say, Captain Snowdon set out from Bristol, - wanting to go no further than our own port; for why? you ask. Why, sir, - for a true lover's reason, which may be reckoned by some folk as no reason - at all—namely a hope to get speedily by the side of his mistress, - this lady being none other than our friend, the pretty and virtuous young - woman known as Nelly Polwhele.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Nelly Polwhele?” - </p> - <p> - “None other, sir. It seems that Nelly met this good master-mariner a year - ago at Bristol, and following the usage of all our swains, he falls in - love with her. And she, contrary to her usage of the stay-at-home swains - who piped to her, replies with love for love. But a long voyage loomed - before him, so after getting her promise, he sails for the China Seas and - the coast of the Great Mogul. Returning with a full heart and, I doubt - not, a full pocket as well, he is too impatient to wait for the sailing of - a middle-sized packet for Falmouth or Plymouth, he must needs take a - passage in the first thing shaped like a boat that meant to come round the - Lizard, and this was a ketch of some ten ton, that opened every seam - before the seas that the hurricane of yesterday raised up in the Channel, - and so got swamped when trying to run ashore on some soft ground. Nelly's - shipmaster, Mr. Snowdon, must have been struggling in the water for - something like four hours, and was washed up, well-nigh at the very door - of the young woman's cottage, and so—well, you know more of the - remainder of the story than doth any living man—not even excepting - the Captain himself.” - </p> - <p> - “And the young woman—have you heard how she received her lover?” - asked Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, that is the point at which Rumour becomes, for a marvel, discreetly - silent,” replied Hartwell. “I suppose it is taken for granted that the - theme has been dealt with too frequently by the poets to have need to be - further illustrated by a fisherman's daughter. Take my word for it, sir, - the young woman, despite her abundance of womanly traits, is a good and - kind and true girl at heart. She hath not been spoiled by the education - which she received as companion to the Squire's young ladies.” - </p> - <p> - “That was my judgment, too,” said Wesley. “I pray that the man will be a - good husband to her. His worldly position as the master of an East - Indiaman is an excellent one.” - </p> - <p> - “He will make her a very suitable husband,” said Hartwell. “I must confess - that I have had my fears for her. She is possessed of such good looks—a - dangerous possession for such a young woman, sir. These, coupled with her - intimate association with the Squire's daughters, might have led her into - danger. A less sensible girl would certainly be likely to set her cap at - someone a good deal above her in station—a dangerous thing—very - dangerous!” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt, sir. And now you are disposed to think that her happiness is, - humanly speaking, assured?” - </p> - <p> - “I think that she is a very fortunate young woman, and that the man is - even more fortunate still. Old Polwhele, in his whimsical way, however, - protests that he wishes the man whose intent it is to rob him of his - daughter, had got drowned. He grumbled about the part you played in the - matter—he was very whimsical. 'What, sir,' he grumbled to me just - now, 'is Mr. Wesley not content with looking after our souls—is he - turning his attention to our bodies as well? Old Polwhele has a nimble - wit.” - </p> - <p> - “It was not I, but John bennet, who was fortunate enough to restore the - man: he treated him altogether skilfully, the revenue patrol-man told me.” - </p> - <p> - Hartwell threw up his hands in surprise. Then he frowned. He was plainly - puzzled for some time. At last he said: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley, if Bennet saved that man's life he must have stumbled on him - while it was yet dark—too dark to let him see the man's face.” - </p> - <p> - “But how should he know who the man was, even if he had seen his face?” - </p> - <p> - “He was acquainted with Mr. Snowdon at Bristol, and his grievance was that - if Snowdon had not appeared, the girl would have accepted his own suit. - Oh, yes; it must have been too dark for him to see the man's face, or it - would have gone hardly with the poor fellow.” - </p> - <p> - There was a considerable pause before Wesley said: - </p> - <p> - “You are right, it was too dark to allow him to recognise the man's - features. Has he been seen at the village during the morning?” - </p> - <p> - “If he has I heard nothing of it,” replied Hartwell, “it might be as well - to say a word of warning to Mr. Snowdon respecting him; he is a madman, - and dangerous. You do not forget the mad thing he said about you on - Sunday, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “I have not forgotten it,” said Wesley in a low voice. “I have not - forgotten it. I think that I shall set out upon my journey this - afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - The pause that he made between his sentences was so slight as to suggest - that they were actually connected—that there was some connection - between the thing that Bennet had said and his own speedy departure. - </p> - <p> - His host, who was in good spirits after his walk in the early sunshine, - gave a laugh and asked him in no spirit of gravity if he felt that it was - necessary for him to fly lest Captain Snowdon should develop the same - spirit of jealousy that had made Bennet fit for Bedlam. - </p> - <p> - Wesley shook his head and smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Need I ask your pardon for a pointless jest, sir?” cried Hartwell. “Nay, - dear sir and brother, I hope you will find good reason for remaining with - us for a few days still. You have had a trying time since you came, Mr. - Wesley; and I do not think that you are fit to set out on so rude a - journey.” - </p> - <p> - “I confess that I feel somewhat exhausted,” said Wesley, “but I have hope - that an hour or two in the saddle will restore me.” - </p> - <p> - Hartwell did his best to persuade him to reconcile himself to the idea of - staying in the neighbourhood for at least another day, but without - success. - </p> - <p> - “I must go. I feel that I must go, grateful though I be to you for your - offer of hospitality,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “Then I will not say a further word. If it be a matter of feeling with - you, I do not feel justified in asking you to change your intention,” said - Hartwell. “I shall give orders as to your horse without delay.” - </p> - <p> - But the horse was not needed that day, nor was it likely to be needed for - some time to come, for within the hour after breakfast Mr. Wesley was - overcome by a shivering fit and compelled to take to his bed. It became - plain that he had caught a chill—the wonder was that it had not - manifested itself sooner, considering that he had sat for so long the day - before in his saturated garments, and the very trying morning that he had - had. Mr. Hartwell, who had some knowledge of medicine, and a considerable - experience of the simpler maladies to which his miners were subject, found - that he was more than a little feverish, and expressed the opinion that he - would not be able to travel for a full week. Wesley, who, himself, knew - enough about the treatment of disease to allow of his writing a book on - the subject, agreed with him, that it was not necessary to send for a - physician, who might possibly differ from both of them in his diagnosis. - </p> - <p> - For three days he remained in bed, and in spite of the fact that he would - have nothing to say to the Peruvian bark which his host so strongly - recommended, his feverish tendency gradually abated, and by careful - nursing he was able to sit up in his room by the end of a week. - </p> - <p> - In the meantime he had many visitors, though he refrained from seeing any - of them. His host told him that Miller Pendelley, Jake Pullsford, and Hal - Holmes had driven more than once from Ruthallion when they heard of his - illness; but of course the earliest and most constant of the enquirers - after his health were Nelly Polwhele and her lover. Mr. Hartwell told him - how greatly distressed they were, and perhaps it was natural, he added, - that the girl should be the one who laid the greatest emphasis upon the - fact that they were the cause of Mr. Wesley's suffering. She was - undoubtedly a sweet and unselfish girl, Hartwell said; and he feared that - Captain Snowdon thought that she was making too great a fuss in referring - to the risks which he, Wesley, had run to bring her happiness. Snowdon, - being a man, had not her imagination; and besides his life had been made - up of running risks for the benefit of other people, and he was scarcely - to be blamed if he took a less emotional view of, at least, the incident - of Wesley's finding him exhausted on the shore in the early dawn. - </p> - <p> - “I spoke with him to-day,” said Hartwell when his guest was able to hear - these things, “and while he certainly showed himself greatly concerned at - your sickness, he grumbled, half humorously, when he touched upon the way - he was being neglected by the young woman. 'I am being hardly treated, - sir,' he said. 'What is a simple master-mariner at best alongsides a - parson with a persuasive voice? But when the parson adds on to his other - qualities the dash and derring-do of a hero it seems to me that a plain - man had best get into his boat, if so be that he have one, and sail away—it - boots not whither, so long as he goes. Oh, ay, sir, I allow that your Mr. - Wesley hath made short work of me.' Those were his words; and though they - were followed by an earnest enquiry after your health, I could see that he - would as lief that he owed his life to a more ordinary man.” - </p> - <p> - “If I had not been overtaken by this sickness he would have had no cause - for complaint,” said Wesley. After a pause he touched with caution upon a - matter over which he had been thinking for some time. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Snowdon heard nothing about a rival other than myself in the young - woman's regard?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, not he,” replied Hartwell quickly. “Snowdon is not the fellow to - listen to all that the gossips may say about Madam Nelly's liking for - admiration—he knows well that so pretty a thing will be slandered, - even when she shows herself to be wisely provident by seeking to have two - strings to her bow. But, indeed, whatever her weakness may have been in - the past, she hath been a changed girl since you first came hither. - Captain Snowdon has no rival but yourself, sir, and I am certain that the - honest fellow would not for the world that the young woman abated aught of - her gratitude to you. He has too large a heart to harbour any thought so - unworthy of a true man.” - </p> - <p> - “God forbid that anything should come between them and happiness,” said - Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis all unlikely,” said his host. “He must see that her love for him - must be in proportion to her gratitude to you for having done all that you - have done for him. If she did not love him dearly she would have no need - to be half so grateful to you.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley said nothing more on this point. He had not forgotten what Nelly - had confided to him and the counsel which he had given her just before the - hurricane had cut short their conversation on the cliffs. She had told him - her story, confessing that the man to whom she had given her promise was - less dear to her now that she was in daily expectation of meeting him - after the lapse of a year than he had been when they had parted; and he - had defined, in no doubtful language, the direction in which her duty lay. - </p> - <p> - For the rest of the time that they were together neither he nor she had - made any reference to this matter; but he had not ceased to think upon it. - After what Mr. Hartwell had said he felt reassured. He had brought himself - to feel that he could only be happy if the girl's happiness were assured; - and he believed that this could only be accomplished by her keeping the - promise which she had given to a man who was worthy of her. However she - might have fancied that her love had waned or turned in another direction - during the year they had been parted, he was convinced that it would - return, as true and as fresh as before, with the return of Captain - Snowdon. - </p> - <p> - All that Hartwell had said bore him out in this view which he was disposed - to take of the way of this maid with the man. Hartwell was a man of - judgment and observation, and if there had been any division between the - two people in whom they were interested, he would undoubtedly have noticed - it. He had described the grievance of which Snowdon had complained in a - humorous way; and Wesley knew that if the man felt that he had a grievance - of the most grievous sort that can fall upon a man, he would not have - referred to it in such a spirit. - </p> - <p> - And then the day came when Wesley was able to talk, without being hushed - by his hospitable friend, of mounting his horse and resuming his-journey - in the west. He had many engagements, and was getting daily more anxious - to fulfil them before the summer should be over. - </p> - <p> - “If it rested with me, sir,” said Hartwell, “I would keep you here for - another month and feel that I was the most favoured of men; but in - this-matter I dare not be selfish. I know what, with God's blessing, you - seek to accomplish, and I feel that to stay you from your journey would be - an offence.” - </p> - <p> - “You have been more than good to me, my brother,” said Wesley. “And now in - parting from, you, I do not feel as did the Apostle Paul when leaving - those friends of his who sorrowed knowing that they should see his face no - more. I know that your sorrow is sincere, because I know how sincere is my - own, but if God is good to us we shall all meet again after a season.” - </p> - <p> - “That is what we look forward to; you have sown the good seed among us and - you must return to see what your harvest will be,” said Hartwell. - </p> - <p> - They agreed that his horse was to be in readiness the next morning. This - was at their noon dinner, and they had scarcely risen from the table when - the maidservant entered with the enquiry if Mr. Wesley would allow Captain - Snowdon to have a word with him in private. - </p> - <p> - “I was expecting this visitor,” said Hartwell. “It would be cruel for you - to go away without receiving the man, albeit I think that you would rather - not hear him at this time. Let me reassure you: he will not be extravagant - in his acknowledgment of the debt which he owes to you; he is a sailor, - and scant of speech.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should I not see him?” said Wesley. “I am not afraid to face him! - even a demonstration of his gratitude. Pray let him be admitted.” - </p> - <p> - Very different indeed was the stalwart man who was shown into the room - from the poor half-drowned wretch whom Wesley had helped to carry from the - shore to the boat. Captain Snowdon stood over six feet—a - light-haired, blue-eyed man who suggested a resuscitated Viking of the - milder order, brown faced and with a certain indefinable expression of - shrewd kindliness which might occasionally take the form of humour and - make itself felt by a jovial slap on the back that would make most men - stagger. - </p> - <p> - He was shy, and he had plainly been walking fast. - </p> - <p> - These were the two things that Wesley noticed when Hartwell was shaking - hands with the man, and the latter had wiped his forehead with a - handkerchief as splendid as the western cloud of a sunset in the Tropics—a - handkerchief that seemed a floating section of the Empire of the Great - Mogul—dazzling in red and yellow and green—a wonder of the - silk loom. - </p> - <p> - “You and Mr. Wesley have already met, Mr. Snowdon,” said Hartwell with a - smile, and forthwith quitted the room. - </p> - <p> - Captain Snowdon looked after him rather wistfully. He seemed to be under - the impression that Mr. Hartwell had deserted him. Then he glanced with - something of surprise in the direction of Wesley, and was apparently - surprised to see his hand stretched out in greeting. He took the hand very - gingerly and with nothing of a seaman's bluffness or vigour. - </p> - <p> - “Seeing you at this time, Captain Snowdon, makes me have a pretty conceit - of myself,” said Wesley. “Yes, sir, I feel inclined to boast that I was - one of the four who bore you from the high beach to the boat—I would - boast of the fact only that I know I should never be believed. You do not - seem to have suffered by your mishap.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, sir, I am a man that turns the corner very soon in matters of - that sort, and then I race ahead,” replied the master-mariner. - </p> - <p> - “You have become accustomed to such accidents, sir,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, sir, the salt sea and me have ever been friends, and more than once - we have had a friendly tussle together, but we bear no malice therefor, - neither of us—bless your heart, none whatever,” said Snowdon. “Why, - the sea is my partner in trade—the sea and the wind, we work - together, but you, Mr. Wesley, I grieve to see you thus, sir, knowing that - 'twas on my account. What if you'd been finished off this time—wouldn't - the blame fall on me? Shouldn't I be looked on as your murderer?” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot see on what principle you should, sir,” said Wesley. “In the - first place the chill from which I have now, by the blessing of Heaven, - fully recovered, was not due to my having been one of the four men who - carried you down the beach, though I should have no trouble in getting - anyone to believe that I suffered from exhaustion. No, Mr. Snowdon, I had - contracted the complaint before I was fortunate enough to come upon you in - my early morning's walk.” - </p> - <p> - “Anyway, sir, you earned my gratitude; though indeed, I feel as shy as a - school miss to mention such a word in your presence. If I know aught of - you, Mr. Wesley, and I think that I can take the measure of a man whether - he be a man or a parson, if I know aught of you, sir, I repeat, you would - be as uneasy to hear me talk of gratitude as I should be to make an offer - to talk of the same.” - </p> - <p> - “You are right in that respect, Mr. Snowdon. Between us—men that - understand each other—there need be no protestation of feeling.” - </p> - <p> - “Give me your hand, sir; you have just said what I should like to say. I - feel that you know what I feel—you know that if there was any way - for me to prove my gratitude——=” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you have said the word again, and I understood that it was to be kept - out of our conversation. But I am glad that you said so much, for it - enables me to say that you have the means of showing your gratitude to - Heaven for your preservation, and I know that you will not neglect such - means. You will be a good husband to Nelly Polwhele—that is the way - by which you will show how you appreciate the blessing of life!” - </p> - <p> - Captain Snowdon's face became serious—almost gloomy—as gloomy - as the face of such a man can become. He made no reply for a few moments. - He crossed the room and looked out of the window. Once more he pulled out - his handkerchief and mopped his brow with that bit of the gorgeous. - Orient. - </p> - <p> - Then he turned to Wesley, saying: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley, sir, I have come to you at this; time to talk about Nelly - Polwhele, if I may make so bold.” - </p> - <p> - “I can hear a great deal said about Nelly Polwhele so long as it is all - that is good,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “I am not the man to say aught else,” said Snowdon. “Only—well, sir, - the truth is I don't quite know what to make of Nelly.” - </p> - <p> - “Make her your happy wife, Captain Snowdon,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “That's what I look forward to, sir; but she is not of the same way of - thinking, worse luck!” - </p> - <p> - “You cannot mean that she—she—what, sir, did not she give you - her promise a year ago?” - </p> - <p> - “That she did, sir; but that's a year ago. Oh, Mr. Wesley, I believe that - all of her sex are more or less of a puzzle to a simple man, and in - matters of love all men are more or less simple, but Nelly is more of a - puzzle than them all put together.” - </p> - <p> - “How so? I have ever found her straightforward and natural—all that - a young woman should be.”. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, sir; but you have not been in love with her.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley looked at him for a moment or two without a word. Then he said: - </p> - <p> - “Pray proceed, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “The truth is, Mr. Wesley, the girl no longer loves me as she did, and all - this time my love for her has been growing,” said Snowdon. “Why, sir, she - as good as confessed it to me no later than yesterday, when I taxed her - with being changed. 'I must have another year,' she said. 'I cannot marry - you now.'Twould be cruel to forsake my father and mother,' says she. 'You - no longer love me, or you would not talk like that,' says I, and she hung - her head. It was a clear minute before she said, 'That is not the truth, - dear. How could I help loving you when I have given you my promise. All I - ask is that you should not want me to marry you until I am sure of myself—another - year,' says she. Now, Mr. Wesley, you are a parson, but you know enough of - the affairs of mankind to know what all of this means—I know what it - means, sir; it means that another man has come between us. You can easily - understand, Mr. Wesley, that a well-favoured young woman, that has been - educated above her station, should have her fancies, and maybe set her - affections on someone that has spoken a word or two of flattery in her - ear.” - </p> - <p> - “I can scarce believe that of her, Mr. Snowdon. But she was at the Bath a - few months ago, and perhaps—Mr. Snowdon, do you think that any words - of mine—any advice to her—would have effect?” - </p> - <p> - The sailor's eyes gleamed; he struck his left palm with his right fist. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sir, that's the very thing that I came hither to beg of you,” he - cried. “I know in what esteem she holds you, Mr. Wesley; and I said to - myself yesterday when I sat on the crags trying to worry out the day's - work so that I might arrive at the true position of the craft that I'm - a-trying to bring into haven—says I, ''Tis trying to caulk without - oakum to hope to prevail against a young woman that has a fancy that she - doesn't know her own mind. But in this case if there's anyone living that - she will listen to 'tis Mr. Wesley.' Those was my words.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot promise that I shall prevail with her; but I have confidence - that she will at least hearken to me,” said Wesley. - </p> - <p> - “No fear about that, sir,” cried the other, almost joyfully. He took a - step or two toward the door, having picked up his hat, which he stood - twirling for a few moments. Then he slowly turned and faced Wesley once - again. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley,” he said in a low voice. “Mind this, sir: I would not have - you do anything in this matter unless you feel that 'twould be for the - good of the girl. 'Tis of the girl we have to think in the first place—the - girl and her happiness. We must keep that before us, mustn't we, sir? So I - ask of you as a man of judgment and wisdom and piety to abstain from - saying a word to her in my favour unless you are convinced that I am the - man to make her happy. Look at me, sir. I tell you that I will not have - the girl cajoled into marrying a man simply because she has given him her - promise. What! should she have a life of wretchedness simply because a - year ago she did not know her own mind?” - </p> - <p> - “Captain Snowdon, give me leave to tell you that you are a very noble - fellow,” said Wesley. “The way you have acted makes me more certain than - ever that Nelly Polwhele is the most fortunate young woman in Cornwall, no - matter what she may think of the matter. Since I have heard you, sir, what - before was a strong intention has become a duty. Hasten to Nelly and send - her hither.” - </p> - <p> - The man went to the door quickly, but when there he hesitated. - </p> - <p> - “To be sure 'twould be better if you was to speak to her without her - knowing that I had been with you; but we cannot help that; we are not - trying to trick the girl into keeping her promise,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “The knowledge that you have been with me would make no difference to - her,” said Wesley. “She knows that I would not advise her against my - judgment, to please even the man who, I know, loves her truly as man could - love woman.” - </p> - <p> - Captain Snowdon's broad back filled up the doorway in an instant. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>ohn Wesley sat - alone in the room, thinking his thoughts. They were not unhappy, though - tinged with a certain mournfulness at times. The mournful tinge was due to - the reflection that once more he must reconcile himself to live alone in - the world. For a brief space he had had a hope that it might be given to - him to share the homely joys of his fellow-men. He now saw that it was not - to be; and he bowed his head to the decree of the Will which he knew could - not err. - </p> - <p> - Alone? How could such a reflection have come to him? How could he who - sought to walk through the world with the Divine companionship of the One - to whom he trusted to guide his steps aright feel lonely or alone? - </p> - <p> - This was the thought that upheld him now. He could feel the hand that he - knew was ever stretched out to him. He touched it now as he had touched it - before, and he heard the voice that said: - </p> - <p> - “I have called ye friends.” - </p> - <p> - He was happy—as happy as the true man should be who knows that the - woman whom he loves is going to be made happy. He now perceived that - everything had been ordered for the best, this best being the ultimate - happiness of the woman whom he loved. He now saw that although he might - strive to bring happiness to her, he might never succeed in doing so. Even - if she had loved him her quick intelligence could not fail to whisper to - her what the people around them would be saying out loud—that John - Wesley had married the daughter of a humble fisherman of Cornwall, and - that that was no match for him to make. She would hear it said that John - Wesley, who was ever anxious for the dignity of the Church to be - maintained, had shown himself to be on the level with my lord's greasy, - sottish chaplain, who had showed himself ready to marry my lady's maid - when commanded to do so by his master, when circumstances had made such an - act desirable. - </p> - <p> - Would such a young woman as Nelly Polwhele be happy when now and again she - should hear these whispers and the consciousness was forced upon her that - John Wesley was believed to have made a fool of himself? - </p> - <p> - But even to assume what her thoughts would be was to assume that she had - loved him, and this she had never done. He was convinced that she had - never ceased to love the man to whom she had given her promise. To be - sure, she had told him when they had been together on the cliffs that - someone else had come into her life. But that he believed to be only a - passing fancy of hers. It was impossible that such a young woman, having - given her promise to so fine a fellow as Captain Snowdon, should allow his - place in her heart to be taken by anyone else. - </p> - <p> - He wondered if the Squire had a son as well as daughters. Nelly had talked - to him often enough about the young ladies, but not a word had she - breathed about a young gentleman. If there was a son, would it be beyond - the limits of experience that this village girl should be captivated by - his manners—was it beyond the limits of experience that the young - man might have been fascinated by the beauty of the girl and so have - talked to her as such young men so often did, in a strain of flattery that - flattered the poor things so that they were led to hope that an offer of - marriage was approaching? - </p> - <p> - He resolved to make enquiry on this point from Nelly herself should she - still maintain that her affection had changed. But meantime—— - </p> - <p> - His lucubrations were interrupted by the sudden return of Captain Snowdon. - He was plainly in a condition of great excitement. His coat was loose and - his neckerchief was flying. - </p> - <p> - “We are too late, Mr. Wesley,” he cried. “We are too late. The girl has - given both of us the slip. I called at the cottage to fetch her hither. I - did not find her at home. This is what was put into my hand.” - </p> - <p> - He thrust out a piece of paper with writing upon it. - </p> - <p> - “<i>I cannot stay—I dare not stay any longer where I am forced to - see you every day, and am thus reminded of my promise which I know I - cannot now keep. Please try not to follow me; 'twould be of no use. I must - be apart from you before I make up my mind. I am very unhappy, and I know - that I am most unhappy because I have to give pain to one who is the best - of men.</i> - </p> - <p> - “<i>Nelly.</i>” - </p> - <p> - “You have read it?” cried Snowdon. “I had no notion that her whimsies - would carry her so far. Oh, she is but a girl after all—I tell you - that she is no more than a girl.” - </p> - <p> - “She is a girl, and I think that she is the best that lives, to be a - blessing to a good man's life,” said Wesley, returning the letter to his - trembling hand. - </p> - <p> - “The best? The best? She has made a fool of the man who would have died to - save her from the least hurt, and you call her the best!” he cried, - walking to and fro excitedly, crumpling up the letter with every stride. - </p> - <p> - “She is the best,” said Wesley. “Sir, cannot you see that those lines were - written by a woman who is anxious to be true to herself? Cannot you see - that her sole fear is that she may do an injustice to the man who loves - her?” - </p> - <p> - “You see things, sir, that none other can see; I am but a plain man, Mr. - Wesley, and I can see naught in this letter save the desire of a fickle - young woman to rid herself of a lover of whom she has grown weary. Well, - she has succeeded—she has succeeded! She exhorts me not to follow - her. She need not have been at the trouble to do so: I have no intention - of following her, even if I knew whither she has gone. Have you any guess - as to the direction she has taken? Not that I care—I tell you, sir, - I have no desire to follow her. Who do you suspect is her lover?” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Snowdon,” said Wesley, “her lover stands before me in this room. The - poor child has had her doubts, as any true girl must have when she thinks - how serious a step is marriage, and the best way that you can dissipate - such doubts is to show to her that you have none.'Tis left for you to - prove yourself a true man in this matter, Captain Snowdon, and I know - that, being a true man, you will act as a true man should act.” - </p> - <p> - “I know not what you would suggest, sir, but I can promise you that if you - hint that I should seek to follow her, you make a mistake,” said Snowdon. - </p> - <p> - “She may go whithersoever she pleases. I have no mind to be made a fool of - a second time by her. I have some self-respect still remaining, let me - tell you, Mr. Wesley.” - </p> - <p> - “You may be sure that no advice to sacrifice it will come from me, sir,” - said Wesley. “Oh, Mr. Snowdon, did not you come to me an hour ago to ask - me to be your friend in this matter? Did you not ask me to give my advice - to the young woman of whom we have been speaking? Was not that because you - believed that my advice would be right?” - </p> - <p> - “I know that it would have been right, Mr. Wesley; but now——” - </p> - <p> - “If you could trust to me to give her good advice, why cannot you prove - that this was your hope, by hearkening to the advice which I am ready to - give to you?” - </p> - <p> - The big man, who was standing in the middle of the room, had made several - passionate attempts to speak, but none of them could be called successful. - When Wesley had put his last question, he tried to frame a reply. He put - out an arm with an uplifted forefinger and his lips began to move. Not a - word would come. He looked at Wesley straight in the face for a long time, - and then he suddenly turned away, dropped into the nearest chair, and bent - his head forward until his chin was on his hand, and he was gazing at the - floor. - </p> - <p> - Wesley let him be. He knew something of men and their feelings, as well as - their failings. - </p> - <p> - There was a long silence before the man arose and came to him, saying in a - low voice: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wesley, I will trust to your judgment. I will do whatsoever you bid - me.” - </p> - <p> - Wesley grasped him by the hand. - </p> - <p> - “I had no doubt of you, my friend,” he said. “I felt that any man whom - Nelly Polwhele loved——” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, loved—loved!” interjected Snowdon. - </p> - <p> - “Loves—loves—in love there is no past tense,” said Wesley. - “She loved you, and she loves you still—she will love you forever. - You will come with me, and I know that mine will be the great happiness of - bringing you together. What greater happiness could come to such as I than - this which, by the grace of Heaven, shall be mine?” - </p> - <p> - “She gave you her confidence? You know whither she has fled?” - </p> - <p> - Wesley shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “She told me nothing; remember that I have not seen her since you returned - to her,” he said. “But I think that I can say whither she has gone.'Tis - but six or seven miles from here. Have you heard of Ruthallion Mill?” - </p> - <p> - The mariner struck the palm of his left hand with his right fist. The blow - had weight enough in it to make the casements quiver. - </p> - <p> - “Wherefore could I not have thought of the Mill?” he cried.' “I was fool - enough to let a thought of Squire Trevelyan's Court come into my mind.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no doubt that we shall find her at the Mill,” said Wesley. “The - miller has been a second father to her, and, besides, he has a daughter. - 'Tis to friends such as these that she would go for succour and sympathy - in her hour of trouble.” Captain Snowdon mused for a moment. - </p> - <p> - “How do I know that they will be on my side, Mr. Wesley?” he asked. “They - may reckon that she has been ill-used—that she has a right to change - her mind and to choose whomsoever she will.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Snowdon,” said Wesley, “it doth not need that one should be possessed - of a judgment beyond that of ordinary people to decide the right and the - wrong of this affair in which we all take a huge interest. Come, sir, let - us prepare for the best and not for the worst. What, are you a - master-mariner and yet have not learned that the best way to stamp out a - mutiny is by a display of promptitude. Let us lose no time over the - discussion of what the result of our action may be—let us act at - once.” - </p> - <p> - He went to the door.. - </p> - <p> - “Nay, sir; but you are a sick man—how will you make this journey?” - said Snowdon. - </p> - <p> - “I am no longer a sick man,” said Wesley. “I would not give a second - thought to the setting out upon a journey to the Mill on foot. But there - will be no need for this. Mr. Hartwell will lend us his light cart; it - will hold three.” - </p> - <p> - “Three? But we are but two, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, Mr. Snowdon—only two for the journey to the Mill; but we shall - need an extra seat for our return.” - </p> - <p> - A few words to Mr. Hartwell and his easy running waggon was at the door. - The drive through the valley of the Lana on this lovely afternoon had an - exhilarating effect upon Captain Snowdon, for Wesley took care that their - conversation should be-on topics far removed from their mission at this - time. He wished to be made acquainted with his companion's views - respecting many matters of the Orient. Was it possible that the Jesuits - had sent missionaries to the Indies and even to China? Had Captain Snowdon - had any opportunity of noting-the result of their labours? Had Captain - Snowdon learned if the Jesuits discountenanced any of the odious native - customs such as the burning of widows—the throwing of infants into - the sacred river of Ganges? Or did the missioners content themselves with - simple preaching? - </p> - <p> - The journey to the Mill was all too short to allow of Captain Snowdon's - answering more than a few of the questions put to him by the discreet Mr. - Wesley, and it was not until they were turning down the little lane that - the ship-master came to an abrupt end of his replies, and put the nervous - question to his companion: - </p> - <p> - “Shall we find her here, or have we come on a wild-goose chase?” - </p> - <p> - In a few minutes they were in her presence—almost in her presence; - they caught sight of her flying through the inner door when they entered - the Mill room. - </p> - <p> - The miller, in his shirtsleeves and wearing his working apron, gave a loud - laugh and shouted “Stop thief!” but his daughter and her mother were - looking grave and tearful. They moved to the door by which Nelly had made - her escape, but checked themselves and returned to greet Wesley and - Snowdon. They hoped that the sun had not been overwarm during the drive - through the valley, and that Mr. Wesley had fully recovered from his - sickness. - </p> - <p> - The miller came to the point with his usual directness. - </p> - <p> - “You have come to carry the girl home with you, I doubt not?” he said; and - forthwith his wife and daughter made for the door. - </p> - <p> - Captain Snowdon looked ill at ease. He glanced toward the outer door. - </p> - <p> - “How oft have I not told her that a judgment would fall upon her for the - heartburnings that she brought about—all through her kindness o' - heart?” continued the miller. “Poor daughter! But they all go through the - same course, Captain, of that you may be assured, albeit I doubt not that - you think that so dread a case as yours has never been known i' the world - before. When the marriage day draws nigh, the sweetest and the surest of - them all has a misgiving. Don't be too ready to blame them, sir. The - wonder is that when she sees so many errors hurried into under the name of - marriage, any maid can bring herself to take upon her the bondage.” - Captain Snowdon nodded sideways and looked shyly down. - </p> - <p> - “Nature is stronger than experience, miller,” said Wesley. “I am bold - enough to think that you could give Mr. Snowdon a pinch of your experience - in your garden, after you have told Nelly that I seek a word with her - here. I am pretty certain that I shall have completed my task before your - experiences as a married man are exhausted.” - </p> - <p> - “Right, sir,” said the miller. “Captain, I show you the door in no - inhospitable spirit. I'll join you in the turning of a pinion.” - </p> - <p> - Captain Snowdon seemed pleased to have a chance of retiring, returning to - the open air; he hurried out by one door, while the miller went through - the other and shouted for Nelly. His wife's remonstrance with him for his - unfeeling boisterousness reached Wesley, who was now alone in the room. - </p> - <p> - He was not kept long waiting. Nelly entered, the miller leading her by the - hand, and then walking slowly to the outer door.. - </p> - <p> - “My dear, you know why I have come hither,” said Wesley, taking her hand - in both of his own. “You asked for my counsel once, and I gave it to you. - I could only give it to you at that time in a general way. I had not seen - the man to whom you had given your promise; but having seen him, and - knowing what manner of man he is—and I am something of a judge of a - man's character—I feel that I would be lacking in my duty to you, - dear child, if I were to refrain from coming to you to plead for—for - your own happiness.” - </p> - <p> - “Have I forfeited all your esteem by my behaviour, sir?” she cried, still - holding his hand and looking at him with piteous eyes. “Do you think of me - as a light-minded girl, because I confessed to you—all that I did - confess?” - </p> - <p> - “I have never ceased to think of you with affection,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! the affection of a man who is esteemed by all the world, for a poor - girl who touched the hem of his life, and then passed away never to be - seen by him again.” - </p> - <p> - She spoke in a curious tone of reproach. He looked at her, asking himself - what she meant. - </p> - <p> - “Child, child, you little know how I have thought of you,” he said slowly. - “Do you believe that the path of my life has been so gilded with sunshine - that I take no count of such hours as we passed together when we walked - through the valley, side by side—when we sat together on the - cliffs?” - </p> - <p> - She gave a little cry of joy and caught up his hand and kissed it. - </p> - <p> - He was startled. He turned his eyes upon her. She was rosy red. Her head - was bowed. - </p> - <p> - In that instant he read her secret. - </p> - <p> - There was a long silence. Only occasionally a little sob came from her. - </p> - <p> - “Child,” he said in a low voice. “Child, you have been very dear to me.” - </p> - <p> - She looked up with streaming eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Say those words again—again,” she cried in faltering tones. - </p> - <p> - “They are true words, my dear,” he said. “The life which it has been - decreed that I shall lead must be one of loneliness—what most men - and all women call loneliness. Such joys of life as love and marriage and - a home can never be for me. I have given myself over body and soul to the - work of my Master, and I look on myself as separate forever from all the - tenderness of life. They are not for me.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should they not be for you? You have need of them, Mr. Wesley?” - </p> - <p> - “Why should they not be for me, do you ask?” he cried. “They are not for - me, because I have been set to do a work that cannot be done without a - complete sacrifice of self. Because I have found by the bitterest - experience, that so far as I myself am concerned—I dare not speak - for another—these things war against the Spirit. If I thought it - possible that a woman should be led to love me I would never see her - again.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, do not say that—do not say that!” she said piteously. - </p> - <p> - “I do say it,” he cried. “Never—never—never would I do so - great an injustice to a woman as to marry her. I tell you that I would - think of it as a curse and not a blessing. I know that I have been - appointed to do a great work, and I am ready, with God's help, to trample - beneath my feet everything of life that would turn my thoughts from that - work. The words are sounding in my ear day and night—day and night, - 'If any man come to Me and hate not his father and mother and wife and - children and brethren and sisters—yea, and his own life also, he - cannot be my Disciple.'” - </p> - <p> - He stood away from her, speaking fervently. His face, pale by reason of - his illness, had become paler still: but his resolution had not faltered, - his voice had not broken. - </p> - <p> - She had kept her eyes fixed upon him. The expression upon her face was one - of awe. - </p> - <p> - She shuddered when he took a step toward her and held out a thin white - hand to her. She touched it slowly with her own. - </p> - <p> - “Nelly,” he said, “there is a joy in self-sacrifice beyond any that the - world can give. I look on you as one of my children—one of that - Household of Faith who have told me that they had learned the Truth from - my lips. My child, if you were called on to make any great sacrifice for - the Truth, would you not make it? Although I may seem an austere man to - you, I do not live so far apart from those who are dear to me as to be - incapable of sympathising with them in all matters of their daily life. I - think you knew that or you would not have confessed to me that you fancied - your love had suffered a change.” - </p> - <p> - She rose from her chair, and passed a hand wearily across her face. - </p> - <p> - “A fancy—it was a fancy—a dream—oh, the most foolish - dream that ever a maiden had,” she said. “Has it ever been known that a - maiden fancied she loved the shadow of a dream when all the time her heart - was given to a true man?” - </p> - <p> - “Dear child, have you awakened?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “My dreaming time is past,” she replied. - </p> - <p> - “I may bid Captain Snowdon to enter?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Not yet—not yet—I must be alone; I will see him in another - hour.” - </p> - <p> - He kissed her on the forehead, and went with unfaltering feet into the - sunshine. - </p> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Love That Prevailed, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOVE THAT PREVAILED *** - -***** This file should be named 51971-h.htm or 51971-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/7/51971/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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