Part 10 (1/2)
”Alas, it is not for so short a time,” answered Mr Lennard; ”the seed was sown by the tutor with whom he spent a year or more, and finally matured by this same Father Lascelles and his tutor at college. He is the very man with whom Mr Lerew read, I find. I wonder that he was not the means of his older pupil's perversion.”
”Mr Lerew is not so honest a man as your son,” answered the general; ”Mr Lerew was about to take orders, and would prove a useful tool, while it was more prudent to secure your son at once, as he, it was supposed, would inherit your property. I wish that I could offer you consolation; but I fear that you would consider me a Job's comforter at the best.”
Mr Lennard had come hoping to take Mary home; but she appeared scarcely able to undertake so long a journey, and Clara confessed that she herself was unwilling to return as yet to Luton. Poor Mr Lennard was nearly heart-broken on hearing from the doctor that he thought very badly of Mary's case.
”Could I not take her abroad, to Madeira, or the south of France?” he asked.
”It would be, I feel confident, useless,” was the melancholy answer; ”had she strength to stand the journey, her life might possibly be prolonged for a few weeks; but she would probably lose more by the exertion of travelling than she would gain by the change. Here she is under loving care, and we may alleviate her sufferings.”
Some more weeks wore by, and Mary grew worse. Mr Lennard felt, what some parents do not, that it was his duty, though a painful one, to tell his daughter that her days were numbered, and at the same time to afford her such comfort as, according to his knowledge, he could. He gently broke the subject.
”I know it,” she answered. ”I asked Clara if she thought I was dying, and she told me that the doctor said I could not recover; but, dear papa, I am prepared to go away to One who loves me, though I am sorry, very sorry, to leave you, and Clara, and the general, and those who have been kind to me.”
The tears were falling from Mr Lennard's eyes.
”You have been a dear good girl, and have enjoyed the blessing of baptism, and have been confirmed, and have received the sacrament; you shall receive it again if you wish, and I hope that G.o.d will take you to heaven.”
”Oh, dear, dear papa, don't speak so,” answered Mary; ”I know that I am a wretched sinner; I have done nothing to merit G.o.d's love and mercy; but I know that Jesus Christ died for me, and that His blood cleanseth from all sin; and, trusting to Him, I am sure that He will receive me in the place He has gone before to prepare for those who love Him. I have faith in Christ; that is my happiness, hope, and confidence. I am not afraid to die, for I know that He will be with me through the shadow of the valley of death.”
Mr Lennard gazed at her, unable to speak. He could not ask her further questions, but was revolving in his own mind the meaning of what she had said. She had no confidence in any of the objects which he had been accustomed to present to the minds of the dying, if he believed them to be good Churchmen, and if not, he had always urged them to repent of their sins and to take the sacrament, in the hope that thus G.o.d might receive them into heaven. Mary's remarks had brought new light to his soul; she trusted solely to the _all-finished work_ of Christ, to whom she looked as her Saviour, with full a.s.surance that He would welcome her to heaven. She thought not, she spoke not, of any of the rites and ceremonies in which he had trusted himself, and had taught others to trust, rather than to the blood of the Atonement. She did not ask even him, her father, and, as he had fancied himself, a priest, to offer a prayer on her behalf. No, she was resting joyfully on Christ as her all-sufficient Saviour.
”I see it all now,” he said, half aloud; ”it is this of which the general has been speaking to me lately, but which I did not comprehend.”
”Yes, dear papa; Jesus did it all long ago; He saved me then, and I am trusting in Him; that makes me so happy, so very happy,” exclaimed Mary.
”I believe as you do,” answered Mr Lennard; ”would that I had known and taught your poor brother the same truth! it would have prevented him from falling into the toils of Rome.”
”We can pray for him, that he may be rescued from them,” said Mary.
”I wished to make him a sound Churchman, and taught him that there is but one true Church, and that that is the Church of England; and miserable has been the result,” said Mr Lennard.
”Alfred may be brought back. G.o.d will hear our united prayers,”
whispered Mary.
”I cannot pray with faith that my prayer will be answered,” he murmured.
”I did my utmost to instil the belief into him, and he has ever since been with those who have done their utmost to forward the same notion.”
Mary now became her father's comforter. She lingered with those who loved her for some time longer, proving an especial blessing to Clara, who had, as her ever-watchful nurse, constant employment and occupation for her thoughts and feelings. The general remained with his sister, and afforded Clara that instruction and guidance she so much needed, while he put into her hands such books as were best calculated to strengthen her mind and to do away with all traces of that mysticism which she had imbibed both before and during her life in the convent.
With clearer perceptions of truth than she had ever before enjoyed, she was now better able to perform her duties in life. She had written to her aunt, saying that she hoped some day to return home, but was at present employed in nursing her young friend Mary Lennard, whom she could not at present leave; but she did not think it necessary to speak of her escape from the convent, or to enter into other particulars, so that Miss Pemberton remained in ignorance of her change of opinions.
Mr Lennard had twice gone away in the hope of meeting his son and inducing him to attend the death-bed of his sister; but the priests, who were well-informed of the religious opinions of those who had taken charge of Mary, made him send various excuses, and poor Mary was deprived of the satisfaction of seeing her brother again. When Mr Lennard returned, Mary had become much weaker, and she could only whisper, ”Pray for poor Alfred; don't be angry with him--he may be brought back;” and her young spirit went to be with the Saviour in whom she trusted. Clara aided the general in comforting their friend.
The bereaved father found peace at last; but often before that, in the bitterness of his heart, he would exclaim, ”It was that school, that abominable system of fasting and penance, and that accursed confessional, which killed her; and to have my poor weak misguided boy carried off and enslaved body and soul by those wolves in sheep's clothing, it is more than I can bear! It was I--I alone, who in my blindness and ignorance and folly exposed them to the malign influences which have caused their destruction. I have been the murderer of my children!”
A few days after Mary's funeral, Clara, with the general and Mr Lennard, returned to Luton. Miss Pemberton received her niece with a look of astonishment.
”Why, I expected to see you dressed as a nun, Clara,” she exclaimed; ”have you given up your vocation? Dear me! Mr Lerew will be very much disappointed; he fully expected that you would devote your fortune to Saint Agatha's.”
”I will explain matters to you, aunt, by-and-by,” answered Clara, not wis.h.i.+ng on her first arrival at home to enter into any discussion. ”I hope that you have not felt yourself very solitary during my long absence.”