Part 6 (1/2)
”Bruce!” called the clear voice of Emmie, as she ran back to the bottom of the staircase to let her brother know that the guest was on the point of departing.
”Bruce!” shouted Vibert with the full strength of his lungs.
There was no reply to either summons, and Emmie suggested that her brother might have gone out, not remembering that the carriage had been ordered so early. After a few minutes' delay, Arrows handed her into the carriage, with the words, ”You will bid Bruce good-bye for me.”
”None so deaf as those who won't hear,” muttered Vibert, when the vehicle had rolled from the door. ”Bruce heard us call, but he is in a huff, and did not choose to appear. He _repels advice, resents reproof_, and yet won't believe that he's proud! No more, perhaps, than I believe that I'm selfis.h.!.+”
CHAPTER VII.
MISTRUST.
”I am so glad to have a little time for quiet conversation with you, dear uncle,” said Emmie, as the carriage in which she was seated beside Arrows proceeded along the drive. ”I want to ask you,”--she hesitated, and her voice betrayed a little nervousness as she went on,--”what it was that you meant when you bade me _conquer Mistrust_?”
”Let me refer you to our old favourite, the Pilgrim's Progress,” replied the captain. ”In whose company did the dreamer represent Mistrust, when he ran down the Hill of Difficulty to startle Christian with tidings of lions in the way?”
”In the company of Timorous,” said Emmie.
”And have you no acquaintance with that personage?” asked the captain.
”Oh, then you only mean that I am a little timid and nervous,” said Emmie, a good deal relieved. ”That is no serious charge; you let me off too easily.”
”Not so fast, my dear child. Let us examine the allegorical personages more closely. Timorous and Mistrust are not only found together, but they are very closely related.”
”You would not have me a Boadicea or a Joan of Arc?” asked Emmie, smiling.
”I would have you--what you are--a gentle English maiden; but I would have you _more_ than you now are,--that is to say, a trustful Christian maiden,” replied Captain Arrows.
”Surely courage is a natural quality, which belongs to some and not to others,” observed Emmie Trevor. ”Besides, if it be a virtue at all, it is surely a man's rather than a woman's.”
”Mere physical courage, such as 'seeks the bubble reputation e'en in the cannon's mouth,' is not a Christian virtue,” said the captain; ”it may be displayed by infidel or atheist. The courage which _is_ a grace, a grace to be cultivated and prayed for, is that childlike trust in a Father's wisdom and love, by which the feeblest woman may glorify her Maker.”
”Faith in G.o.d's wisdom and love! Oh, you do not surely think that I am so wicked as ever to doubt them! I have many faults, I know, but this one--” Emmie stopped short, startled to find on her tongue almost the very words which had been given as a sign that the bosom sin had been tracked to its lurking-place.
”You remember,” said Captain Arrows, ”that a few days ago I listened to your singing that fine hymn which begins with the lines,--
'Lord, it belongs not to my care Whether I die or live.'”
”Yes,” replied Emmie Trevor; ”and you told me that, much as you admired that hymn, you did not think it suited for my singing. I supposed that you thought it too low for my voice.”
”No, I thought it too high for your practice. Could it be consistently sung by one who that morning had been in nervous terror at the scratch of a kitten; one who owned that she would scarcely dare to nurse her best friend through the small-pox; one who, even with my escort, could not be persuaded to cross a field in which a few cows were grazing?”
”Oh, uncle, how can you take such trifles seriously!” cried Emmie, a good deal hurt.
”Because I wish you to take them a little more seriously,” replied Captain Arrows. ”You have hitherto regarded _unreasonable fear_ as an innocent weakness, perhaps as something allied with feminine grace, and not as a foe to be resisted and conquered. I see that fear is at this time throwing a shadow over your path; that you would be happier if you had the power wholly to cast it aside.”
”I have not the power,” said Emmie. The words had scarcely escaped her lips when she wished them unspoken, for she was ashamed thus to plead guilty to a feeling of superst.i.tious alarm.