Part 32 (1/2)
”There is no such thing as a creed or a system of Divinity in the Book--nothing in it but human relations touched by the Spirit of G.o.d.”
”I am glad, however, to hear of Donald's good fortune.”
”It is wonderful. Every good gift of life put into his hand unsought. A beautiful and wealthy wife, who loved him from the moment they met, and a father-in-law who treats him already as a dearly beloved son.”
”Donald is not his son, however, and never can be. I am forever and ever Donald Macrae's father.”
”A splendid home, a large and prosperous business, and the finest climate outside of the Kingdom of Heaven. It is like a fairy tale,”
continued the Major enthusiastically.
Ian smiled, and said slowly, as if he could hardly remember the words he wished to say, ”You are right,
'It sounds like stories from the Land of Spirits, If any one attain the thing he merits, Or any merit that which he obtains.'
I am glad to have heard such a romance.”
”Marion, or Mrs. Caird, could have told it to you, chapter by chapter, as it was making.”
”And with what advices and entreaties!”
”Words only. I never mind words. Ian, you are looking ill. What is the matter with you? Is it the loss of that woman?”
”The d.u.c.h.ess of Rotherham? No. I never allow myself to think of her. It is a loss so transcendantly greater that there is not speech to define the distance. _I have lost G.o.d!_” and he looked up with a face of such desperate sorrow and patience as infected the heart of the older man with uncontrollable pity.
”O Ian! Ian!” he answered in a low, intense voice, ”you cannot lose G.o.d, and, if you could, He cannot lose you.”
”My father's brother![1] I have lost G.o.d, and the Devil----”
[Footnote 1: Among Highlanders the name of the relations.h.i.+p expresses more emotion than the baptismal name.]
”Stop now. I disclaim for you and for myself all interest in the devil.
I deny him! I deny him! _Ach!_ I will not talk of him. If there be a devil, he can talk for himself.”
”My G.o.d has left me. I know not where to find Him. I watch the day and the night through for a whisper or a sign from Him. 'As the hart panteth after the water brook, so panteth my soul for the living G.o.d.' To all my pleading He is deaf and dumb. My heart would break, but He has made it so hard that sometimes I can only pray for tears, lest I die of my soul's thirst.”
”But this is dreadful, Ian, dreadful! Dear me! Dear me! What can I do?”
”What do you do when, through faults all your own, you have lost the sense of G.o.d's loving presence?”
”I will tell you truly, Ian. I write down all my sins and shortcomings, and then, kneeling humbly at His feet, I acknowledge them, and ask for pardon. I wait a moment or two, and then I mark them out with the sign of the [symbol: cross]. It cancels all, and generally I can feel this.
If I do not feel it, I know something is wrong, and the confession is to make over again. It seems a childish thing for a man of sixty years old to rely on, Ian, but it has kept me at His Pierced Feet all my life long. If I had been a Roman Catholic--as the Macraes once all of them were--I should have gone to my confessor and had the priest's absolution; and I suppose it is some ancient feeling after the need and the comfort of confession. For I have 'confessed' in this way ever since I was a little lad, and I shall do so as long as I live. I have never told anyone but you of my simple, solemn rite; but it is a very solemn thing to me, however simple. Yes, it is. I speak the truth.”
”Thank you. It is sacred and secret with me. Tell me now what would you do if you had to carry the burden Bunyan makes poor Christian carry through the Slough of Despond every Sabbath. It is my unspeakable burden to be compelled to preach. While I am preaching to others I am asking my soul, 'Art thou not thyself become a castaway?' Life is too hard to bear.”
”Yet it was small help or comfort you gave your congregation last Sabbath.”
”I did not see you in Church.”
”I was there. It is indeed a very rare circ.u.mstance, but I was there, and I heard you tell your hearers that, bad as this life was, the next life would be much worse unless they lived a kind of righteousness impossible to them. Why do people listen to such words? Why do you say them? How do you dare to represent G.o.d as ordaining all things, yet angry with the actions of the creatures whom He has created to disobey His orders? And, since a man must sin by the very necessity of his nature, why is he guilty of his sins? How can people bear such sermons?”