"Oh, you don"t know anything about it!" cried Mrs. Dale. "There! you made me make a mistake, and lose my game. Pray do not be silly, Lois, and talk in that emphatic way; have a little more repose. I mean this young man is--he is very different from anybody you have ever seen in Ashurst. But there is no use trying to tell you anything; you always keep your own opinion. You are exactly like a bag of feathers. You punch it and think you"ve made an impression, and it comes out just where it went in."
Lois laughed, and rose to go.
"Tell your father what I said about a winter in town," Mrs. Dale called after her; and then, gathering her cards up, and rapping them on the table to get the edges straight, she said to herself, "But perhaps it won"t be necessary to have a winter in town!" And there was a grim sort of smile on her face when, a moment later, Mr. Dale, in a hesitating way, pushed the door open, and entered.
"I thought I heard Lois"s voice, my dear," he said, with a deprecating expression.
He wore his flowered cashmere dressing-gown, tied about the waist with a heavy silk cord and ta.s.sel, and a soft red silk handkerchief was spread over his white hair to protect his head from possible draughts in the long hall. Just now one finger was between the pages of "A Sentimental Journey."
"She was here," said Mrs. Dale, still smiling. "I was telling her the Forsythes were coming. It is an excellent thing; nothing could be better."
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Dale.
"Mean?" cried his wife. "What should I be apt to mean? You have no sense about such things, Henry."
"Oh," said her husband meekly, "you want them to fall in love?"
"Well, really," she answered, leaning back in her chair, and tapping her foot impatiently, "I do not see how my husband can be so silly. One would think I was a matchmaker, and no one detests anything of that sort as I do,--no one! Fall in love, indeed! I think the expression is positively indelicate, Henry. Of course, if Lois should be well married, I should be grateful; and if it should be Mr. Forsythe, I should only feel I had done my duty in urging Arabella to take a house in Ashurst."
"Oh, you urged her?"
"I wrote her Ashurst was very pleasant," Mrs. Dale acknowledged, "and it was considered healthy. (I understand Arabella!) I knew her son was going abroad later in the summer, but I thought, if he once got here"--
"Ah," responded Mr. Dale.
CHAPTER IV.
John and Helen had not gone at once to Lockhaven; they spent a fortnight in wandering about through the mountains on horseback. The sweet June weather, the crystal freshness of the air, and the melodious stillness of the woods and fields wrapped those first heavenly days of entire possession in a mist of joy. Afterwards, John Ward felt that it had blinded the eyes of his soul, and drifted between him and his highest duty; he had not been able to turn away from the gladness of living in her presence to think of what had been, during all their engagement, an anxiety and grief, and, he had promised himself, should be his earliest thought when she became his wife:--the unsaved condition of her soul.
When he had first seen her, before he knew he loved her, he had realized with distress and terror how far she was from what he called truth; how indifferent to what was the most important thing in the whole world to him,--spiritual knowledge. He listened to what she said of her uncle"s little Episcopal church in Ashurst, and heard her laugh good-naturedly about the rector"s sermons, and then thought of the doctrines which were preached from his own pulpit in Lockhaven.
Helen had never listened to sermons full of the hopelessness of predestination; she frankly said she did not believe that Adam was her federal head and representative, and that she, therefore, was born in sin. "I"m a sinner," she said, smiling; "we"re all miserable sinners, you know, Mr. Ward, and perhaps we all sin in original ways; but I don"t believe in original sin."
When he spoke of eternal punishment, she looked at him with grave surprise in her calm brown eyes. "How can you think such a thing?" she asked. "It seems to me a libel upon the goodness of G.o.d."
"But justice, Miss Jeffrey," he said anxiously; "surely we must acknowledge the righteousness and justice of G.o.d"s judgments."
"If you mean that G.o.d would send a soul to h.e.l.l forever, if you call that his judgment, it seems to me unrighteous and unjust. Truly, I can think of no greater heresy, Mr. Ward, than to deny the love of G.o.d; and is not that what you do when you say he is more cruel than even men could be?"
"But the Bible says"--he began, when she interrupted him.
"It does not seem worth while to say, "the Bible says,"" she said, smiling a little as she looked into his troubled face. "The Bible was the history, and poetry, and politics of the Jews, as well as their code of ethics and their liturgy; so that, unless we are prepared to believe in its verbal inspiration, I don"t see how we can say, as an argument, "the Bible says.""
"And you do not believe in its verbal inspiration?" he said slowly.
"No," Helen answered, "I could not."
It was not for John Ward to ask how she had been taught, or to criticise another minister"s influence, but as he walked home, with anxious, downcast eyes, he wondered what Dr. Howe"s belief could be, and how it had been possible for her soul to have been so neglected. This woman, whose gracious, beautiful nature stirred him with profound admiration, was in the darkness of unbelief; she had never been taught the truth.
As he said this to himself, John Ward knew, with sudden, pa.s.sionate tenderness, that he loved her. Yet it was months before he came and told her. What right had he to love her? he said to himself, when he knelt and prayed for her soul"s salvation: she was an unbeliever; she had never come to Christ, or she would have known the truth. His duty to his people confronted him with its uncompromising claim that the woman whom he should bring to help him in his labors among them should be a Christian, and he struggled to tear this love out of his heart.
John Ward"s was an intellect which could not hold a belief subject to the mutations of time or circ.u.mstances. Once acknowledged by his soul, its growth was ended; it hardened into a creed, in which he rested in complete satisfaction. It was not that he did not desire more light; it was simply that he could not conceive that there might be more light. And granting his premise that the Bible was directly inspired by G.o.d, he was not illogical in holding with a pathetic and patient faith to the doctrines of the Presbyterian Church.
Helen"s belief was as different as was her mode of thought. It was perhaps a development of her own nature, rather than the result of her uncle"s teaching, though she had been guided by him spiritually ever since he had taken her to his own home, on the death of her parents, when she was a little child. "Be a good girl, my dear," Dr. Howe would say. So she learned her catechism, and was confirmed just before she went to boarding-school, as was the custom with Ashurst young women, and sung in the choir, while Mr. Denner drew wonderful chords from the organ, and she was a very well-bred and modest young woman, taking her belief for granted, and giving no more thought to the problems of theology than girls usually do.
But this was before she met John Ward. After those first anxious questions of his, Helen began to understand how slight was her hold upon religion. But she did not talk about her frame of mind, nor dignify the questions which began to come by calling them doubts; how could they be doubts, when she had never known what she had believed? So, by degrees, she built up a belief for herself.
Love of good was really love of G.o.d, in her mind. Heaven meant righteousness, and h.e.l.l an absence from what was best and truest; but Helen did not feel that a soul must wait for death before it was overtaken by h.e.l.l. It was very simple and very short, this creed of hers; yet it was the doorway through which grief and patience were to come,--the sorrow of the world, the mystery of sin, and the hope of that far-off divine event.
There was no detail of religious thought with Helen Jeffrey; ideas presented themselves to her mind with a comprehensiveness and simplicity which would have been impossible to Mr. Ward. But at this time he knew nothing of the mental processes that were leading her out of the calm, unreasoning content of childhood into a mist of doubt, which, as she looked into the future, seemed to darken into night. He was struggling with his conscience, and asking himself if he had any right to seek her love.
"Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers," he said to himself.
To his mind, Helen"s lack of belief in certain doctrines--for it had hardly crystallized into unbelief--was sin; and sin was punishable by eternal death. Here was his escape from conscience. Should this sweet soul, that he loved more than his own, be lost? No; surely, it was a sacred right and duty to win her heart and marry her, that he might take her away from the atmosphere of religious indifference in which she lived, and guide her to light and life.
Love won the day. "I will save her soul!" he said to himself; and with this purpose always before him to hide a shadow, which whispered,--so he thought,--"This is a sin," he asked her to be his wife.
He did not have to plead long. "I think I have always loved you," Helen said, looking up into his eyes; and John was so happy that every thought of anxiety for her soul was swallowed up in grat.i.tude to G.o.d for her love.
It was one midsummer afternoon that he reached Ashurst; he went at once to the rectory, though with no thought of asking Dr. Howe"s permission to address his niece. It seemed to John as though there were only their two souls in the great sunny world that day, and his love-making was as simple and candid as his life.
"I"ve come to tell you I love you," he said, with no preface, except to take her hands in his.
He did not see her often during their engagement, nor did he write her of his fears and hopes for her; he would wait until she was quite away from Ashurst carelessness, he thought; and beside, his letters were so full of love, there was no room for theology. But he justified silence by saying when they were in their own home he would show her the beauty of revealed religion; she should understand the majesty of the truth; and their little house, which was to be sacred as the shrine of human love, should become the very gate of heaven.
It was a very little house, this parsonage. Its sharp pitch roof was pulled well down over its eyes, which were four square, shining windows, divided into twenty-four small panes of gla.s.s, so full of bubbles and dimples that they made the pa.s.ser-by seem sadly distorted, and the spire of the church opposite have a strange bend in it.
John Ward"s study had not a great many books. He could not afford them, for one reason; but, with a row of Edwards, and some of Dr. Samuel Hopkins" sermons, and pamphlets by Dr. Emmons, he could spare all but one or two volumes of Hodge and Shedd, who, after all, but reiterate, in a form suited to a weaker age, the teachings of Dr. Jonathan Edwards.
The dim Turkey carpet was worn down to the nap in a little path in front of his bookshelves, where he used to stand absorbed in reading, or where he walked back and forth, thinking out his dark and threatening sermons.
For before his marriage John preached the law rather than the gospel.
"So I am going to hear you preach on Sunday?" Helen said, the Sat.u.r.day morning after their return. "It"s odd that I"ve never heard you, and we have known each other more than a year."
He was at his desk, and she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. He put down his pen, and turned to look up into her face. "Perhaps you will not like my sermons;" there was a little wistfulness in his dark eyes as he spoke.
"Oh, yes, I shall," she said, with smiling certainty. "Sermons are pretty much alike, don"t you think? I know some of uncle Archie"s almost by heart. Really, there is only one thing to say, and you have to keep saying it over and over."
"We cannot say it too often," John answered. "The choice between eternal life and eternal death should sound in the ears of unconverted men every day of their lives."
Helen shook her head. "I didn"t mean that, John. I was thinking of the beauty of holiness." And then she added, with a smile, "I hope you don"t preach any awful doctrines?"
"Sometimes the truth is terrible, dear," he said gently.
But when she had left him to write his sermon, he sat a long while thinking. Surely she was not ready yet to hear such words as he had meant to speak. He would put this sermon away for some future Sunday, when the truth would be less of a shock to her. "She must come to the knowledge of G.o.d slowly," he thought. "It must not burst upon her; it might only drive her further from the light to hear of justice as well as mercy. She is not able to bear it yet."