Part 37 (2/2)
Alice looked horrified.
”But,” continued her father, ”I am convinced of the truth of his statement--that he has never shed human blood. Nevertheless, he has been very wicked, and the fact that he has such a powerful will, such commanding and agreeable manners, only makes his guilt the greater, for there is less excuse for his having devoted such powers and qualities to the service of Satan. I fear that his judges will not take into account his recent good deeds and his penitence. They will not pardon him.”
”Father,” said Alice, earnestly, ”G.o.d pardons the chief of sinners--why will not man do so?”
The missionary was somewhat perplexed as to how he should reply to such a difficult question.
”My child,” said he, ”the law of G.o.d and the law of man must be obeyed, or the punishment must be inflicted on the disobedient--both laws are alike in this respect. In the case of G.o.d's law, Jesus Christ our Lord obeyed it, bore the punishment for us, and set our souls free. But in the case of man's law, who is to bear Gascoyne's punishment and set _him_ free?”
As poor Alice could not answer this, she cast down her tearful eyes, sighed again, and looked more miserable than ever.
”But come, my pet,” resumed Mr Mason, ”you must guess again. It is really good news--try.”
”I can't,” said Alice, looking up in her father's face with animation and shaking her head; ”I never could guess anything rightly.”
”What would you think the best thing that could happen?” said her father.
The child looked intently at the ground for a few seconds and pursed her rosy little mouth, while the smallest possible frown--the result of intellectual exertion--knitted her fair brow.
”The best thing that could happen,” said she, slowly, ”would be that all the whole world should become good.”
”Well done, Alice!” exclaimed her father, laughing; ”you have certainly taken the widest possible view of the subject. But you have soared a little too high; yet you have not altogether missed the mark. What would you say if the chiefs of the heathen village were to cast their idols into the fire, and ask me to come over and teach them how to become Christians?”
”Oh! have they _really_ done this?” cried Alice in eager surprise.
”Indeed they have. I have just seen and had a talk with some of their chief men, and have promised to go over to their village to-morrow. I came up here just to tell you this, and to say that your friend the widow will take care of you while I am away.”
”And shall we have no more wars--no more of these terrible deeds of blood?” inquired the child, while a shudder pa.s.sed through her frame at the recollection of what she had heard and seen during her short life on that island.
”I trust not, my lamb. I believe that G.o.d has heard our prayers, and that the Prince of Peace will henceforth rule in this place. But I must go and prepare for this work. Come, will you go with me?”
”Leave me here for a little, papa; I wish to think it over all alone.”
Kissing her forehead, the missionary left her. When he was out of sight the little girl sat down, and, nestling between two great roots of her favourite tree, laid her head against the stem and shut her eyes.
But poor Alice was not left long to her solitary meditations. There was a peculiarly attractive power about her which drew other creatures around her wherever she might chance to be.
The first individual who broke in upon her was that animated piece of ragged door-mat, Toozle. This imbecile little dog was not possessed of much delicacy of feeling, having been absent on a private excursion of his own into the mountain when the schooner arrived, he only became aware of the return of his lost, loved, and deeply-regretted mistress, when he came back from his trip. The first thing that told him of her presence was his own nose, the black point of which protruded with difficulty a quarter of an inch beyond the ma.s.s of matting which totally extinguished his eyes, and, indeed, every other portion of his head.
Coming down the hill immediately behind Sandy Cove at a breakneck scramble, Toozle happened to cross the path by which his mistress had ascended to her tree. The instant he did so, he came to a halt so sudden that one might have fancied he had been shot. In another moment he was rus.h.i.+ng up the hill in wild excitement, giving an occasional yelp of mingled surprise and joy as he went along. The footsteps led him a little beyond the tree and then turned down towards it, so that he had the benefit of the descent in making the final onset.
The moment he came in sight of Alice he began to bark and yelp in such an eager way that the sounds produced might be described as an intermittent scream. He charged at once with characteristic want of consideration, and, plunging headlong into Alice's bosom, sought to cover her face with kisses--i.e., with _licks_, that being the well-known canine method of doing the thing.
”O Toozle, how glad, glad, glad, I am to see you, my own darling Toozle!” cried Alice, actually shedding tears.
Toozle screamed with delight. It was almost too much for him. Again and again he attempted to lick her face, a familiarity which Alice gently declined to permit, so he was obliged to content himself with her hand.
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