Volume I Part 8 (1/2)
”Dr. Cairnes, I want your instruction in something.”
”Well, my dear,” said the doctor, lowering his tone in imitation of Eleanor's--”I shall be happy to be your instructor. I have been that, in some sort, ever since you were five years old--a little tot down in your mother's pew, sitting under my ministrations. What is it, Miss Eleanor?”
”I am afraid I did not receive much in those days, sir.”
”Probably not. Hardly to be expected. I have no doubt you received as much as a child could, from the mysteries which were above its comprehension. What is it now, Miss Eleanor?”
”Something in your line, sir. Dr. Cairnes, you remember the helmet spoken of in the Bible?”
”Helmet?” said the doctor. ”Goliath's? He had a helmet of bra.s.s upon his head. Must have been heavy, but I suppose he could carry it. The same thing essentially as those worn by our ancestors--a little variation in form. What about it, my dear? I am glad to see you smiling again.”
”Nothing about that. I am speaking of another sort of helmet--do you not remember?--it is called somewhere the helmet of salvation.”
”_That?_ O!--um! _That_ helmet! Yes--it is in, let me see--it is in the description of Christian armour, in a fine pa.s.sage in Ephesians, I think. What about that, Miss Eleanor?”
”I want to know, sir, what shape that helmet takes.”
It was odd, with what difficulty Eleanor brought out her questions. It was touching, the concealed earnestness which lingered behind her glance and smile.
”Shape?” said the doctor, descending into his cravat;--”um! a fair question; easier asked than answered. Why my dear, you should read a commentary.”
”I like living commentaries, Dr. Cairnes.”
”Do you? Ha, ha!--well. Living commentaries, eh? and shapes of helmets.
Well. What shape does it take? Why, my dear, you know of course that those expressions are figurative. I think it takes the shape of a certain composure and peace of mind which the Christian soul feels, and justly feels, in regarding the provision made for its welfare in the gospel. It is spoken of as the helmet of salvation; and there is the s.h.i.+eld of faith; and so forth.”
Eleanor felt utterly worried, and did not in the least know how to frame her next question.
”What has put you upon thinking of helmets, Miss Eleanor?”
”I was curious--” said Eleanor.
”You had some serious thoughts in your illness?” said the doctor.
”Well, my dear--I am glad of it. Serious thoughts do not in the least interfere with all proper present enjoyments; and with improper ones you would not wish to have anything to do.”
”May we not say that serious thoughts are the _foundation_ of all true present enjoyment?” said another voice. It was Mr. Rhys who spoke.
Eleanor started to hear him, and to see him suddenly in the place where Mr. Carlisle had been, standing in the window.
”Eh? Well--no,--not just that,” said Dr. Cairnes coolly. ”I have a good deal of enjoyment in various things--this fair day and this fair company, for example, and Mrs. Powle's excellent cup of tea--with which I apprehend, serious thoughts have nothing to do.”
”But we are commanded to do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus.”
”Well--um! That is to be taken of course in its rational significance.
A cup of tea is a cup of tea--and nothing more. There is nothing at the bottom of it--ha, ha!--but a little sugar. Nothing more serious.”
Mr. Rhys's figure standing in the window certainly hindered a part of the light. To judge by the doctor's face, he was keeping out the whole.
”What do you suppose the apostle means, sir, when he says, 'Henceforward know I no man after the flesh?'”
”Hum!--Ah,--well, he was an apostle. I am not. Perhaps you are?”