Part 16 (1/2)

On one occasion, when Hadria and the Professor went to call at Craw Gill, they found Miss Du Prel in the gloomiest of moods. Affection, love?--the very blood and bones of tragedy. Solitude, indifference?--its heart. And if for men the world was a delusion, for women it was a torture-chamber. Nature was dead against them.

”Why do you say that?” asked Hadria.

”Because of the blundering, merciless way she has made us; because of the needs that she has put into our hearts, and the preposterous payment that she demands for their fulfilment; because of the equally preposterous payment she exacts, if we elect to do without that which she teaches us to yearn for.”

Professor Fortescue, admitting the dilemma, laid the blame on the stupidity of mankind.

The discussion was excited, for Valeria would not allow the guilt to be thus s.h.i.+fted. In vain the Professor urged that Nature offers a large choice to humanity, for the developing, balancing, annulling of its various forces of good and evil, and that it is only when the choice is made that heredity steps in and fixes it. This process simulates Necessity, or what we call Nature. ”Heredity may be a powerful friend, or a bitter enemy, according as we treat her,” he said.

”Then our s.e.x must have treated her very badly!” cried Miss Du Prel.

”Or _our_ s.e.x must have obliged yours to treat her badly, which comes to the same thing,” said the Professor.

They had agreed to take a walk by the river, towards Ballochcoil. It was hoped that the fresh air and suns.h.i.+ne would cheer Miss Du Prel. The Professor led the conversation to her favourite topic: ancient Greek literature, but this only inspired her to quote the discouraging opinion of the _Medea_ of Euripedes.

The Professor laughed. ”I see it is a really bad attack,” he said. ”I sympathize. I have these inconsolable moods myself, sometimes.”

They came upon the Greek temple on the cliff-side, and paused there to rest, for a few minutes. It was too cold to linger long under the slender columns. They walked on, till they came in sight of the bare little church of Ballochcoil.

The Professor instinctively turned to compare the two buildings. ”The contrast between them is so extraordinary!” he exclaimed.

Nothing could have been more eloquent of the difference in the modes of thought which they respectively represented.

”If only they had not made such fools of their women, I should like to have lived at Athens in the time of Pericles!” exclaimed Hadria.

”I,” said Valeria, ”would choose rather the Middle Ages, with their mysticism and their romance.”

The discussion on this point continued till the church was reached. A psalm was being sung, in a harsh but devout fas.h.i.+on, by the congregation. The sound managed to find its way to the sweet outer air, though the ugly rectangular windows were all jealously closed against its beneficence.

The sky had become overcast, and a few drops of rain having given warning of a shower, it was thought advisable to take shelter in the porch, till it was over. The psalm was ground out slowly, and with apparent fervour, to the end.

Then the voice of the minister was heard wrestling in prayer.

The Professor looked grave and sad, as he stood listening. It was possible to hear almost all the prayer through the red baize door, and the words, hackneyed though they were, and almost absurd in their pious sing-song, had a naf impressiveness and, to the listener, an intense pathos.

The minister prayed for help and comfort for his congregation. There had been much sickness in the village during the summer, and many were in trouble. The good man put forth his pet.i.tion to the merciful and mighty Father, that strength might be given to the sufferers to bear all that was sent in chastis.e.m.e.nt, for they knew that nothing would be given beyond their ability to endure. He a.s.sured the great and mighty Lord that He had power to succour, and that His love was without end; he prayed that as His might and His glory were limitless, so might His mercy be to the miserable sinners who had offended Him.

Age after age, this same prayer, in different forms, had besieged the throne of heaven. Age after age, the spirit of man had sought for help, and mercy, and inspiration, in the Power that was felt, or imagined, behind the veil of mystery.

From the village at the foot of the hill, vague sounds floated up, and presently, among them and above them, could be heard the yelping and howling of a dog.

The minister, at the moment, was glorifying his Creator and his race at the same time, by addressing Him as ”Thou who hast given unto us, Thy servants, dominion over the beasts of the field and over every living thing, that they may serve us and minister unto us----”

Again, and more loudly, came the cry of distress.

”I must go and see what is the matter,” exclaimed the Professor. At the moment, the howling suddenly ceased, and he paused. The minister was still appealing to his G.o.d for mercy. ”Out of the deep have I cried unto Thee, O Lord----,” and then there was a general prayer, in which the voices of the congregation joined. Some more singing and praying took place, before the sound of a sudden rush and movement announced the conclusion of the service.

”We had better go,” said Miss Du Prel.