Playing With Fire Part 12

"You do not know your son. I do. But if you take a month's rest here, you might get through that weary, useless reading of silly books and sillier ma.n.u.scripts."

"I hope it is not useless reading, Jessy. Every book that discredits scientific theology adds to the evidences of Christianity."

Then Jessy lost control of herself, for she answered angrily, "Do you think, Ian, that I have not read 'Evidences'? Let me tell you how I felt after reading Paley's. I just thought it _probable_ that Christianity _might_ be true. That was only an opinion, but let a man or woman _do_ G.o.d's will, until He speaks within them like a living voice, and then they will _know_ there is a G.o.d."

"But, Jessy,----"

"Don't interrupt me. I must tell you the truth. Upon my word, I believe you are training yourself to the habit of doubting much and believing little. You have dropped words lately I did not like, and I do not like your selfishness about your children. I have always noticed, as religious faith dies, selfishness takes the place of self-sacrifice.

There were the Dalrys! Their children were lost to everything good, because they were forced to marry where they did not love. What have you got to do with Marion's love? I wonder sometimes if you ever loved my little sister! I am doubting it."

"Jessy,----"

"Yes, I am doubting it. You thought it no sin to urge her to leave father and mother, and go away with yourself, though the Bible lays it down as the _man's duty_ to leave father and mother for his wife's sake.

Marion wants to do nothing worse than you begged Agnes to do. There is a change--a change for the worse--in you, Ian. I cannot just put my finger on it, but I feel it. Yes, I feel it."

"That may be so, Jessy. We all change, and no wrong done by it. We must in some way carry about with us the aura of any book that takes possession of our thoughts or feelings. The doubtful books I have been reading so steadily have their own influence--perhaps not a good one."

"A very bad one."

"In a way, you are right, Jessy. It makes me unhappy and uncertain, and with a strong insistence leads me from one skeptical writer to another.

I wish to destroy them all!"

"Ian, you are not the man appointed to destroy the devil. Keep yourself out of his power, and leave the devil and all his books to G.o.d Almighty."

"Many of these skeptical books show a reverent spirit, Jessy."

"I will not believe that. As far as I can judge, they are altogether destructive. They have no business in this room, though in the libraries of h.e.l.l they ought to be given high place and honor."

"The libraries of h.e.l.l! What an idea!"

"A very reasonable one. There are books that have slain more souls than any man could slay--but----"

"O Jessy, Jessy! Doubts will come, even if you fight them on your knees--will come to thoughtful men and women; and doubt can only be cured by investigation."

"As far as I can see, the doubt of all Doubters is just the same, and the Book of Job contains as much philosophy of that kind as the world is ever likely to come to. But I notice that, as soon as doubting gets hold of a man, he will believe anything, so long as it is _not_ in the Bible."

"The 'Evidences of Christianity'----"

"Ian, I have no patience with you. If there is anything plain and clear in the religious teachings of the Bible, it is that religion proves itself. Spiritual things are spiritually discerned, not intellectually.

If a man has had a good dinner, he knows it; there is no need to argue about the matter. If a soul thirsts after righteousness and drinks of the Waters of Life, it knows it, and is happy and satisfied; it does not want evidences that it is so."

"You are right, Jessy, but what is the matter with you to-night? You are very queer--I may say 'cross.'"

"I am neither queer nor cross. This afternoon, for a few moments, I lost my bodily senses, and found _myself_--and I saw a black cloud coming straight to our house--coming as if it knew just where to go--as if it had been sent. And it entered the house, and I came to myself in a dream and sweat of terror; and I am feared for my children, for they are heart of my heart. And your selfish way with them both is enough to call some tragedy, a deal worse than a marriage that does not suit you, or the taking of his own way by a good, brave lad who is sure not to take a wrong way, though it may not be the one you prefer."

"Marion has no knowledge of the world, and it is my duty to stand between her and the world."

"Marion loves Richard Cramer, and if she is willing to thole his temper and all the rest of his shortcomings, it is likely her appointed way toward perfection--it seems to be G.o.d's commonest way of training women.

You do not require to bear with Cramer in any way. He will not trouble you, for there is no doubt he thinks you as selfish and disagreeable as you think him."

"I dislike Lord Cramer for his immoralities."

"G.o.d puts up with what you call his 'immoralities,' and I think you need not be so strict to mark iniquity--if there is any. In my opinion, Cramer is as good as the rest of men--fond of women's company, of course, and, like Donald, daft about music and fine singing, but what good man is not?"

"As for Donald, I only ask him to walk in my own footsteps."

"They are over-narrow for him."

"Nevertheless, he shall tread in them or make his own way. I have money to send him to St. Andrews and give him every advantage. He can go there next month--or he can go to the ends of the earth."

"Then he will go to the ends of the earth. But take heed to my words, Ian Macrae, you will not escape the sorrow of it. However you may try to comfort yourself, you will not be able to forget the loving, handsome lad who stands at your side to-day like a vision of your own youth."

"I had a very happy afternoon, and you have completely spoiled it, Jessy."

"You can have a happy afternoon to-morrow, and every day, if you wish it, but if you ruin your children's lives you can never, never undo that wrong. Have some pity on yourself, if you have none on them."

"I will not be bullied into doing what I know to be unwise, Jessy. I am considering the whole life of my children, not a few weeks or months of youth's illusory dreams and temptations. Donald, as a man, will have the privilege of making a choice; as for Marion, I shall insist on her accepting a marriage which will shelter her as far as possible from all the ills of life."

"Do you mean that you will make her marry that lying, sneaking, tale-telling cub, Allan Reid?"

"Certainly. His faults grew out of his jealousy of Donald's beauty and cleverness. He confessed his fault to me and I forgave him. All stands as it stood before that disagreeable evening. He said Donald was very scornful and provoking. I can believe it."

"I hope he was." Then she laughed, and added, with an air of satisfaction: "Donald has a way of his own. He can be very civil, and very unbearable. I have seen him----," and she laughed again at the memory.

"I am going to my room, Jessy. I have said all I have to say on these subjects."

"Will you have some bread and milk first?"

"No. I had an excellent dinner. It was late also. You have made me wretched, Jessy."

"I am sorry, Ian. But, as it concerns the children, we are pulling at opposite ends of the rope."

"They are _my_ children. You will kindly remember that fact, Mrs.

Caird." He spoke with a haughty determination and left her without even his usual perfunctory "good night." She was troubled by his somewhat unusual show of temper, and the n.o.ble repose of the night had no note of comfort for her. The silence of the far-receding mountains, the murmur of the streams, the air of lonely pastoral melancholy, with a light like dreamland lying over all, did not help her wounded feelings. The Scot does not ask Nature for comfort in any heart sorrow; there is the Book, and the G.o.d of his Fathers. But Jessy Caird had not yet arrived at the point where she felt her exigencies beyond her own direction.

In a few minutes she saw Dr. Macrae light his room, and through its open window there came the odor of a fine cigar. "After the manner of men,"

she muttered. "They don't permit a woman to smoke--if she is worried or ill-tempered--it is not ladylike. And I'm wondering what improves its manners so as to make it gentleman-like. Men are selfish creatures, all of them, not one good, no, not one!"

Then she rose and rather noisily locked the door; she hoped that Dr.

Macrae would hear her, and so come and attend to what he considered his duty when at home. But Dr. Macrae was lying on the sofa smoking and dreaming of Lady Cramer's beauty, and that night he did not care who locked the door. The huge key turned, the bolts slipped into their places, and she went upstairs, full of indignation at her brother-in-law. She could not understand his mood; for she remembered that in spite of the gravity of the subjects on which they had disagreed there was an air of yawning and boredom about him. It was evident to her that they were intruding on some subject much more interesting.

At that hour she was trying to find out what really filled her with forebodings. Little wondering, wandering thoughts about some change in her brother-in-law had flitted for two weeks in and out of her consciousness. But all his slight deviations from the natural and usual were as nothing in comparison with the change she perceived this night.

Then, in the midst of her trifling suppositions, there was suddenly flashed across her mind a few words she never doubted: "_He is in love with Lady Cramer! He intends to marry her!_"

The clue had been given and she followed it out. She thought she now saw clearly why Macrae was so determined to marry Marion to Allan Reid. He was going to marry into the Cramer family himself, and it would be most disturbing and confusing if Marion did the same. It would be too much.

Though there was no legal barrier, there was a positive social one, so vigilantly deterrent, indeed, that she was sure no such case had ever been brought to the Minister's notice; and then she speculated a while as to what would have been his action under the circ.u.mstances.

As she slowly undressed she continued her relentless examination of the supposed condition. "Why," she said to herself, "the silly jokes that would be made about the relationships following the double marriage would be just awful. Even his elders and deacons would hardly refrain themselves. They would give him some sly specimens of their wit--and serve him right, too; and I know well there are families in the Church of the Disciples who would not feel sure in their particular consciences whether such close marriages were quite right in the sight of G.o.d. They will think, anyway, that the Minister ought to have been more careful to avoid the appearance of evil, and they will be 'so sorry' and ask for explanations, and say it is 'really so confusing.' Yes, I can see and hear the great congregation of the Church of the Disciples all agog about the Minister's queer marriage. As for myself, I shall tell any unmarried man or woman who says what I don't like 'to look after their own marriages'; and, if they are married, I will tell them to 'mind their own business'; but this, or that, the clash and clatter will drive a proud man like Ian to distraction. True, he is proud enough to strike them dumb with a look. I'll never forget seeing him walk up to the pulpit that Sabbath after he was made a D.D., and I mind well how he was so dignified that pretty Martha Dean called him '_a procession of One_.'