Part 72 (2/2)
”Mr. Van Berg,” replied Ida, with a troubled face, ”I'm not wise enough to guide you in such a matter. I would much rather you would talk with Mr. Eltinge or some learned, good man.”
”I shall be glad to see Mr. Eltinge, but I don't care to go to the learned man just yet. We might get into an argument, in which of course I should be worsted, but I fear not convinced. I have never known anything so real as your faith has seemed, but I can obtain nothing that in the least corresponds with it. I ask, but receive no more response than if I spoke to the empty air. Then comes the strong temptation to relapse into the old materialistic philosophy, which I had practically accepted, and to believe that religious experiences are imaginary, or the result of education and temperament. At the same time I have found this philosophy such a wretched support, either in life or in the prospect of death, that I would be glad to throw it away as worthless.”
”I fear to speak to you on this subject,” she said, ”and shall not for a moment attempt to teach you anything. They say facts are stubborn things, and I'll tell you a few, which to my simple, homely common-sense are conclusive. To a man's reason they may count for little. My religious experiences are not the result of education or temperament, but are contrary to both; and if they are imaginary, all my experiences are imaginary. Perhaps I can best tell you what I mean by an ill.u.s.tration that is a pleasant one to me. There is a partially finished picture in your studio that I hope to hang some day in my own sanctum at home. How shall I ever know that I have that picture? How shall I ever know that you have given it to me? I shall know it because you keep your promise and send it to me. I shall have it in my possession, and I shall enjoy it daily.
Are not hope, patience, peace, when the world could give no peace, as real as your picture? Is not the honest purpose to overcome a nature that you know is so very faulty, as real a gift as any I could receive? If the Friend I have found promises me such things, and at once begins to keep his word, why should I not trust him?
But remember, you must not expect from me very much at first, any more than did Mr. Eltinge from the little pear-tree he lifted up and gave a chance to live. Now, with one more thought, my small cup of theology is emptied. To go back to my ill.u.s.tration: Suppose some person should say that he had not a picture of Mr. Eltinge; that would be no proof that I did not have one, or that you had not given one to me. I don't see, Mr. Van Berg, that the fact that you have no faith this morning, is anything against the fact that I and Mr. Eltinge, and so many others do have faith, with good reasons for it, and are able to say, ”I KNOW that my Redeemer liveth.' The testimony of other people counts for something in most matters. Why must such men as Mr. Eltinge be set down either as deceivers or deceived, when they state some of the most certain facts of their experience?”
”I knew you were the right one to come to,” he said, looking at her so earnestly that her eyes fell before his; ”but why is it, do you think, that I receive no answer?”
”As I told you, my little cup of knowledge is empty, but it seems to me that in your happy, wonderful rescue you were answered. You have promised to become a Christian, Mr. Van Berg. You certainly did not limit your effort to this week. Surely to be a Christian is worth a lifetime of effort.”
”I understand you again,” he said with a smile; ”you leave me no other choice than to make a lifetime of effort. But I fear it will be awfully up-hill work. The Bible seems to me an old-world book. Many parts take a strong hold on my imagination, and of course I know its surpa.s.sing literary merit; but I don't find in it much that seems personally applicable or helpful. Do you? I admit, though, that when I read words this morning to the effect that 'a brutish man knoweth not, neither doth a fool understand.'
I felt that the good old saint must have had his prophetic eye on me at the time of writing.”
”You are as unjust towards yourself as ever, I see,” she said.
”I have found another Psalm that to me meant so much that I have committed the first part of it to memory. You can understand why the following words are significant,” and in the plaintive tones that had vibrated so deeply in his heart when she read to Mr. Eltinge, she repeated:
”I love the Lord because he hath heard my voice and my supplication.
”Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live.
”The sorrows of death compa.s.sed me, and the pains of h.e.l.l got hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow.
”Then called I upon the name of the Lord; O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul.
”The Lord preserveth the simple: I was brought low and he HELPED me.
”Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.
”For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.
”And this is my conclusion, Mr. Van Berg, 'I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.' I am going to find plenty of good, live, wholesome work to do 'in the land of the living,' and I intend to do it as if I enjoyed it; indeed, I think I shall enjoy it,” and she rose and left him with a genial and cheery smile.
But he sat still and thought long and deeply. At last he muttered in conclusion: ”'By their fruits ye shall know them.' Once more, G.o.d bless Ida Mayhew for all she has been to me!”
When they were gathered at dinner, Jennie Burton walked in and took her seat in the most quiet and matter of course way possible.
Van Berg laid down his knife and fork and exclaimed: ”You have stolen a march on us. We designed giving you an ovation when you came down.”
”Will you please pa.s.s me the bread in its place, Mr. Van Berg?” she replied in her former piquant, mirthful way. ”With the appet.i.te that is coming back to me, one of Mr. Burleigh's good dinners is far more to my taste than an ovation which I now decline with thanks.”
Very pale and slight she certainly had become, but they saw her old cheery, indomitable spirit once more looked out of her blue eyes and vibrated in the tones of her voice. With the changes indicated, she was the same bright little ”enigma in brown” that had so fascinated Van Berg the first day of her arrival, and led him to make the half-jesting prediction to Stanton that had been so thoroughly fulfilled. In spite of themselves her irresistible grace, wit, and humor created continuous and irrepressible merriment at their table, which Ida seconded with a tact and piquancy but little inferior to that of Miss Burton herself. Straightforward and rather slow-witted Stanton rubbed his eyes and vowed between the first hearty laughs he had known for many a long day that he was practised upon, and that he intended to have Miss Burton indicted as a witch, and Ida as an accomplice.
But Jennie Burton could not escape the ovation, for she had won a secure and large place in the esteem, and in many instances, in the affections of her summer a.s.sociates. After dinner, no matter which way she turned, hands were extended and hearty words spoken, and while at dinner even the colored waiters grinned approvingly whenever she looked towards them. Mr. Burleigh finally brought the congratulations and jollity to a climax by hoisting the flag and trying to drum ”Hail Columbia” on a gong.
”That's his way,” said Mrs. Burleigh in an aside to Jennie; ”but would you believe it, the poor man has scarcely eaten or slept since you have been ill. If it had been any one else but you I'd been jealous.”
But Van Berg knew well that all this geniality was like the ripple and sparkle that play above deep waters. Occasionally he found Miss Burton's eyes directed towards himself in a way that caused him deep anxiety, and he had an uneasy consciousness that she was reading his innermost thoughts. While he exerted his utmost power to banish everything from his mind that was not loyal to her, he made no effort to avoid Ida or say little to her at the table and during the afternoon, but rather took pains to treat her with frank and cordial courtesy; however, in spite of himself, he could not keep out of his eyes at all times the reverence and grat.i.tude with which his very soul overflowed; for he felt that he owed to Ida, who had saved his manhood, far more than to Jennie, who had saved his life only.
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