Part 13 (1/2)
Margot frowned uneasily.
”Oh, well--I suppose they have. But at the worst there are two parties, as compared to a dozen. You cannot deny that we are more united?”
”I should not boast too much about the unity of a Church in which civil war is permanently in progress; and what about charity and humility of mind? Suppose now, suppose for a moment that a family of strangers come to live in the house next your own in town, and you discover among other things that they are Dissenters. How does it influence your att.i.tude towards them?” He thrust his ruddy face nearer, staring fixedly into hers. ”Answer me that! Feel just the same? Exactly the same? No cooling off in the intention to call? _Quite_ sure you never used the expression, 'only Dissenters!' and pa.s.sed by on the other side?”
Margot's cheeks blazed. Her lids dropped, and the corners of her mouth drooped in self-conscious shame. There was a moment's silence, then a low murmur sounded on her ear, and, looking up quickly, she saw the Editor's dark face turned upon his brother, with reproach written large in frowning brow and flas.h.i.+ng eye. He was taking up the cudgels in her defence; reproaching his own brother for forcing her into an awkward position.
Margot's heart gave a leap of joy at the discovery; in the flash of an eye her mood, her outlook on life, the very scene itself, seemed transfused with new radiance and joy. The sun seemed to peep out through the grey clouds, the underlying anxiety and worry of the past days took to itself wings, and disappeared. Her brown eyes thanked him with a glance more eloquent than she was aware; she laughed softly, and her laugh was sweet as a chime of bells.
”Yes, I have! I confess it. I've been narrow-minded and uncharitable, and a sn.o.b into the bargain. I've no right to throw stones... What Church do you belong to, Mr Elgood?”
The little man stood still in the middle of the road, throwing out his arms on either side, with a gesture wonderfully eloquent. His round, chubby face shone with earnestness and exaltation.
”To the Church of Christ! The Church of loyalty, and obedience, and love towards the brethren! To the Church of Christ, wherever I find it!
When will Christians learn to remember the points on which they agree, rather than those on which they differ? The questions of form and ceremony; of Church government and ritual; how small they are, how unutterably trivial, compared to the great facts of the Fatherhood of G.o.d, and the sacrifice of Christ! Did the Power who made every one of us with different faces and different forms, expect us all to think mathematically alike? I cannot believe it! It is our duty to trust in G.o.d and love our brethren; to live together in peace, seeing the best in each other, acknowledging the best, thinking no evil! To see men who make a profession of religion quarrelling and persecuting each other for trivial differences, is a ghastly spectacle--a ghastly spectacle!” He walked on, swinging his short arms to and fro, then suddenly looked up with a keen glance into Ron's eager face.
There were no traces of dreaminess in the brown eyes at this moment; the dilated pupil gave to them an appearance of extraordinary depth and intensity; it was easy to see that the lad had been swept off his feet by the rugged force of the speaker's words, and was kindled into a like enthusiasm.
Lads of nineteen and twenty make it so much a matter of principle to suppress all exhibition of feeling, that it is almost startling to come across one who is not ashamed to betray a little human emotion. Mr Elgood evidently found it so, for he continued to cast those quick peering glances until the inn was reached, and the little party separated, to prepare for the midday dinner.
Margot walked slowly up the steep staircase leading to her room, and sat herself down on the bed to think out the problem. More and more did she long to pierce through the armour by which the strange, silent man was enveloped; but how was it to be done? Opportunities were few and far between, and now, for the first time in her life, confidence in her own powers deserted her, and she was overcome by a strange new feeling of humility and doubt. Who and what was she, that such a man should stoop to accept her friends.h.i.+p; poor, unlettered girl that she was, while he was acknowledged as one of the leading intellects of the day? Yet deep in her heart the thought lingered that between this man and herself existed a certain affinity, which, given an opportunity, might bridge over greater gaps than that of intellect and learning. How was that opportunity to be gained? She might be willing to sacrifice much to attain it, but there was one thing that could never be thrown on one side--her natural maidenly pride and dignity! Not even for Ron's sake could she bring herself to make advances to a man who, so far from exhibiting any desire for her company, had gone markedly out of his way to avoid it.
Ron himself was useless in such circ.u.mstances, a creature of moods, living for the moment only, content to forget the future in the enjoyment of present good. To drive him into the Editor's company against his will could do no good, since he would certainly reveal himself in his worst light, and in aggravating, topsy-turvy fas.h.i.+on he had taken a violent fancy for the wrong brother.
The Chieftain's geniality and candour, his boy-like lightness of heart on the one hand, his pa.s.sion for right on the other, were fast developing a species of hero-wors.h.i.+p in the lad's mind. Margot foresaw that, as time pa.s.sed by, the two would grow closer together, and that any chance of intimacy with the other brother would retreat helplessly into the background. Unless--! Her face flamed as a possible solution of the difficulty darted suddenly into her mind. Could she? Dared she risk it? Yes, she could. It would be difficult, but she could bring herself to face it, if after a few days' consideration it still seemed the only way out of the difficulty.
Margot rose from the bed, and began quietly to prepare for dinner. Her face looked grave and anxious, but it had lost its troubled, fretted expression. She had made up her mind what to do, and with the decision came rest and ease of mind.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
MUSIC HATH CHARMS.
For the next two days it rained incessantly, and Margot sat in the little parlour of the inn talking to Mrs Macalister, or rather listening while Mrs Macalister talked, and playing draughts with Mr Macalister, who had relapsed into hopeless gloom of mind, and was with difficulty prevented from rus.h.i.+ng home by the first train.
”The doctor said we were to keep him from the office for a good month at least, and there's not three weeks of the time gone by. If he goes back now, what will be the use of spending all this money on travelling and keep, and what not? It will be all clean waste,” sighed the poor dame sadly. ”He's a bit fratchety and irritable, I'm free to admit, but you should not judge a man when his nerves are upset. There's not a better man on earth than Mr Macalister when he has his health. It's dull for a man-body to be shut up in an inn, without the comforts of home, and feeling all the time that there's money going out. It is different when he can be out and about with his fis.h.i.+ng and what not.--If you could just manage to amuse him a bit, like a good la.s.sie!...”
The good la.s.sie nodded rea.s.suringly into the troubled, kindly face.
”I'll do my best. I have an old father of my own, who has nerves too, and I am used to amusing him. I'll take Mr Macalister in hand till the weather clears.”
It was not a congenial task, for, truth to tell, Mr Macalister was not a beguiling object, with his lugubrious face, lack-l.u.s.tre eyes, and sandy, outstanding whiskers; nor did he in the first instance betray any grat.i.tude for the attention bestowed upon him. A stolid glance over his spectacles was his first response to Margot's overtures; his next, a series of grunts and sniffs, and when at last he condescended to words it was invariably to deride or throw doubt on her statements.
”Tut, nonsense! Who told you that? I would think so, indeed!” followed by another and more determined retreat behind the _Glasgow Herald_.
In the corner of the room Mrs Macalister sat meekly knitting, never venturing a look upwards so long as her spouse was in view, but urging Margot onward by nods and winks and noiseless mouthings, the moment that she was safe from observation.
It had its comic side, but it was also somewhat pathetic. These two good commonplace souls had travelled through life together side by side for over thirty years, and, despite age, infirmity, and ”nearves”, were still lovers at heart. Before the wife's eyes the figure of ”Mr Macalister” loomed so large that it blocked out the entire world; to him, even in this hour of depression, ”the wife” was the one supreme authority.
Fortunately for herself and her friends, Margot was gifted with sufficient insight to grasp the poetry behind the prose, and it gave her patience to persevere. Solution came at last, in the shape of the wheezy old piano in the corner, opened in a moment of aimless wandering to and fro. Margot was no great performer, but what she could play she played by heart, and Nature had provided her with a sweet, thrush-like voice, with that true musical thrill which no teaching can impart. At the first few bars of a Chopin nocturne Mr Macalister's newspaper wavered, and fell to his knee. Margot heard the rustle of it, slid gradually into a simpler melody, and was conscious of a heavy hand waving steadily to and fro.
”Ha-ha!” murmured Mr Macalister, at the end of the strain. ”Hum-hum!