Part 20 (2/2)
In her presence now he had not the power to control his longing for reciprocal affection. He felt already a blind resentment and rebellion against fate--a sense of wrong, which it was hard to submit to. But how could he fight circ.u.mstances whose foundations were in eternity? At this hour, at least, he had come to the limit of his reason and his endurance. Again and again he kissed Nanna farewell, and it was like tearing his life asunder when he put away her clinging arms and left her alone with the terrible problem that separated their lives.
There is something worse than the pang of keenest suffering--the pa.s.sive state of a subjugated heart. A dismal, sullen stillness succeeded to David's angry sorrow. He avoided Barbara and shut himself in his room. And his strong and awful prepossession in favor of the Bible led him, first of all, to go to the book. But he found no help there. His soul was tossed from top to bottom, and he was vanquished by the war in his own bosom. For in our wrestling alone angels do not always come. And David brought his dogmas over and over to the Scriptures, and was crushed spiritually between them, so that at last, worn out with the mental and heart struggle, he submitted to the fatality he could not alter.
”I will go the right road,” he said, ”however cruel that road may be. Then death may give me back to G.o.d a miserable man, but not a guilty one.”
And he did not comprehend that, in thus preferring an unseen duty because it was right to a seen pleasure because it was pleasant, he was consummating that sublime act of faith whose cry of victory is, ”Thy will be done.”
Nanna did not suffer so much. In the first place, the pale, sad, almost despairing woman was glad and dared, in her despair, because the man she loved durst not sin, even for her. In the second, her battle was practically over. She had been in the van of it for months, and had come gradually to that state of submission which fears to resist, lest resistance might be found to be fighting against G.o.d. While David was yet in an agony of struggle with his love and his desires, his tender conscience and his dread of offending the Deity, Nanna had washed away her tears, and was strengthening her heart by saying continually, as the glancing needles glided to and fro:
My G.o.d and Father, while I stray Far from my home, on life's rough way, Oh, teach me from my heart to say, ”Thy will be done!”
For some dauntless, primitive confidence in the love of the Maker of men is older than any creed. And there were yet hours when Nanna's soul outleaped its mortal shadow and had mystic flashes, native and sweet, beyond the reach of will and endeavor--intimations of serenities and compensations which would be neither small nor long delayed.
X
IN THE FOURTH WATCH
Holding despair at bay, David quickly made his preparations for an extended absence. He hired his boat and lines to Groat's sons, and on the morning of the second day, after bidding Nanna farewell, he went to Minister Campbell's to complete his arrangements. The minister was writing his sermon, and he was not pleased at the interruption; but when he saw David's face, the shadow of annoyance on his own pa.s.sed away like a thought. He dropped his pen, and turned in his chair so as to see the young man fairly, and then he asked:
”What is wrong, David?”
”I am all at sea, minister, drifting--drifting--”
”Where's your anchor, David? Can't you steady yourself on G.o.d? Can't you make harbor someway?”
David shook his head sadly.
”Then up sail and out to sea, and face the storm. What quarter is it from?”
”It comes from a woman.”
”Ah, David, that is bad to buffet. I have been through it. It was that storm which brought me here. I know all about it.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: GROAT.]
”Please, minister, I think not. It is Nanna Sinclair.”
”I thought so. You love her, David?”
”Better than my life.”
”And she does not love you?”
”She loves me as I love her.”
”Then what is there to make you miserable? In a few months, David, you will marry her and be happy.”
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