Part 24 (1/2)
”It is ever G.o.d's will that we should do our best in all emergencies.
He will help only those who try to help themselves. He calls us his children, not his machines. The point I wish to make is, that when we do our best, which is always required of us, we are still dependent upon Him.”
”I never had it made so plain before. The fact is, Mr. Hemstead, I don't know much about G.o.d, and I don't half understand myself.
This day seems like an age. I have had so many strange experiences since I stood with you in the breakfast-room this morning,--and have been near, perhaps, still stranger experiences, for which I feel little prepared,--that I am excited and bewildered. I fear you think very poorly of me.”
”You do often puzzle me very greatly, Miss Marsden,” he replied.
”But I think you are p.r.o.ne to do yourself injustice. Still that is far better than hypocritical seeming. Whatever your fault is, you proved to me last night, and most conclusively again this evening, that you have a kind, generous heart. More than all, you have shown yourself capable of the n.o.blest things.”
Lottie made no reply, but sat silent for some time; and, having reached the level once more, Hemstead gave his attention to the horses, till satisfied that they recognized their master and would give no further trouble.
”Won't you sing again?” he asked.
”Yes, if you will sing with me.”
”I would rather listen, but will accept your condition when I can.”
She would only sing what he knew, and noted in pleased surprise that his musical culture was by no means trifling.
”How could you take time from your grave theological studies for such a comparatively trifling thing as music?” she asked.
”Some practical knowledge of music is no trifling matter with me,”
he replied. ”In view of my prospective field of work, next to learning to preach, learning to sing is the most important. I shall have to start the hymns, as a general thing, and often sing them alone.”
”How can you look forward to such a life?”
”I can look forward in grateful gladness. I only wish I were more worthy of my work.”
”Did I not know your sincerity I should say that was affectation.”
”Who was it that preached to the 'common people,' and in the obscure little towns of Palestine eighteen centuries ago? Am I better than my Master?”
”You are far better than I am. No one has ever talked to me as you have. I might have been different if they had.”
”Miss Marsden,” said Hemstead, earnestly, as they were driving up the avenue to the Marchmont residence, ”when you stood beside me this morning I pointed you to a world without, whose strange and marvellous beauty excited your wonder and delight. You seem to me on the border of a more beautiful world,--the spiritual world of love and faith in G.o.d. If I could only show you that, I should esteem it the greatest joy of my life.”
”That is a world I do not understand; nor am I worthy to enter it,” she said in sudden bitterness, ”and I fear I never shall be; and yet I thank you all the same.”
A few moments later they were sitting round the parlor fire, recounting the experiences of the evening.
Before entering the house Lottie had said, ”Let us say nothing about runaway horses to aunt and uncle, or they may veto future drives.”
To Hemstead's surprise Lottie seemed in one of her gayest moods, and he was reluctantly compelled to think her sketch of the people at the donation a little satirical and unfeeling. But while she was portraying Hemstead as the hero of the occasion, she had the tact to make no reference to Harcourt. But he generously stated the whole case, adding, with a light laugh, that he had learned once for all that coaxing and wheedling were better than driving.
”Appealing to their better natures, you mean,” said Hemstead.
”Yes, that is the way you would put it.”