The Last of the Foresters Part 73

"And without any fault of his own suffers horribly," continued the lawyer, sternly.

"We are all faulty, sir."

"I mean--did anybody ever hear such reasoning! Excuse me, but I am a little out of sorts," he growled, apologetically--"I mean that you may suppose a man to suffer some peculiar torture--torture, you understand--which he has not deserved. I suppose that has happened; how can such a man have your faith, and love, and trust, and all that--if we must talk theology!" growled the bearish speaker.

"But, Mr. Rushton," said Redbud, "is not heaven worth all the world and its affections?"

"Yes--your heaven is."

"_My_ heaven--?"

"Yes, yes--heaven!" cried the lawyer, impatiently--"everybody's heaven that chooses. But you were about to say--"

"This, sir: that if heaven is so far above earth, and those who are received there by G.o.d, enjoy eternal happiness--"

"Very well!"

"That this inestimable gift is cheaply bought by suffering in this world;--that the giver of this great good has a right to try even to what may seem a cruel extent, the faith and love of those for whom he decrees this eternal bliss. Is not that rational, sir?"

"Yes, and theological--what, however, is one to do if the said love and faith sink and disappear--are drowned in tears, or burnt up in the fires of anguish and despair."

"Pray, sir," said Redbud, softly.

The lawyer growled.

"To whom? To a Being whom we have no faith in--whom such a man has no faith in, I mean to say--to the hand that struck--which we can only think of as armed with an avenging sword, or an all-consuming firebrand! Pray to one who stands before us as a Nemesis of wrath and terror, hating and ready to crush us?--humph!"

And the lawyer wiped his brow.

"Can't we think of the Creator differently," said Redbud, earnestly.

"How?"

"As the Being who came down upon the earth, and suffered, and wept tears of blood, was buffeted and crowned with thorns, and crucified like a common, degraded slave--all because he loved us, and would not see us perish? Oh! Mr. Rushton, if there are men who shrink from the terrible G.o.d--who cannot love _that_ phase of the Almighty, why should they not turn to the Saviour, who, G.o.d as he was, came down and suffered an ignominious death, because he loved them--so dearly loved them!"

Mr. Rushton was silent for a moment; then he said, coldly:

"I did not intend to talk upon these subjects--I only intended to say, that trusting in Providence, as the phrase is, sounds very grand; and has only the disadvantage of not being very easy. Come, Miss Redbud, suppose we converse on the subject of flowers, or something that is more light and cheerful."

"Yes, sir, I will; but I don't think anything is more cheerful than Christianity, and I love to talk about it. I know what you say about the difficulty of trusting wholly in G.o.d, is true; it is very hard.

But oh! Mr. Rushton, believe me, that such trust will not be in vain; even in this world Our Father often shows us that he pities our sufferings, and His hand heals the wound, or turns aside the blow. Oh, yes, sir! even in this world the clouds are swept away, and the sun shines again; and the heart which has trusted in G.o.d finds that its trust was not in vain in the Lord. Oh! I'm sure of it, sir!--I feel it--I know that it is _true_!"

And Redbud, buried in thought, looked through the window--silent, after these words which we have recorded.

The lawyer only looked strangely at her--muttered his "humph," and turned away. Verty alone saw the spasm which he had seen in the morning pa.s.s across the rugged brow.

While this colloquy had been going on, the Squire had gone into his apartment to wash his hands; and now issuing forth, requested an explanation of the argument he had heard going on. This explanation was refused with great bearishness by the lawyer, and Redbud said they had only been talking about Providence.

The Squire said that was a good subject; and then going to his escritoire took out some papers, placed them on the mantel-piece, and informed Mr. Rushton that those were the doc.u.ments he desired.

The lawyer greeted this information with his customary growl, and taking them, thrust them into his pocket. He then made a movement to go; but the Squire persuaded him to stay and have a cup of tea. Verty acquiesced in his suggestion that _he_ should spend the evening, with the utmost readiness--_ma mere_ would not think it hard if he remained an hour, he said.

And so the cheerful meal was cheerfully spread, and the twigs in the fire-place crackled, and diffused their brief, mild warmth through the cool evening air, and Caesar yawned upon the rug, and all went merrily.

The old time-piece overhead ticked soberly, and the soft face of Redbud's mother looked down from its frame upon them; and the room was full of cheerfulness and light.

And still the old clock ticked and ticked, and carried all the world toward eternity; the fire-light crackled, and the voices laughed;--the portrait looked serenely down, and smiled.

CHAPTER LII.

HOW MR. JINKS DETERMINED TO SPARE VERTY.

Ralph stretched himself.

Mr. Jinks sipped his rum, and ruminated.

Ralph was smiling; Mr. Jinks scowling, and evidently busy with great thoughts, which caused his brows to corrugate into hostile frowns.

It was the room of Mr. Jinks, in Bousch's tavern, which saw the companions seated thus opposite to each other--the time, after breakfast; the aim of the parties, discussion upon any or every topic.

Mr. Jinks was clad in his habitual costume: half dandy, half _militaire_; and when he moved, his great sword rattled against his gra.s.shopper legs in a way terrifying to hear.

Ralph, richly dressed as usual, and reclining in his chair, smiled lazily, and looked at the scowling Mr. Jinks. The apartment in which the worthies were seated was one possessing the advantages of dormer windows, and an extensive prospect over the roofs of Winchester; the furniture was rough; and in the corner a simple couch stood, whereon Mr. Jinks reposed himself at night.

While the various events which we have lately adverted to have been occurring, Mr. Jinks has not forgotten that triple and grand revenge he swore.

Mr. Jinks has un-christian feelings against three persons, for three reasons:

First, against Verty: the cause being that gentleman's defiance and disregard of himself on various occasions; also his rivalry in love.

Second, against Miss Sallianna: beautiful and perfidious; the cause: slights put on his youthful love.

Third, against O'Brallaghan; the cause: impudence on various occasions, and slanderous reports relating to cabbaged cloth since the period of their dissolving all connection with each other.

Mr. Jinks has revolved, in the depths of his gloomy soul, these darling projects, and has, perforce of his grand faculty of invention, determined upon his course in two out of the three affairs.

Verty annoys him, however. Mr. Jinks has ceased to think of a brutal, ign.o.ble contest with vulgar fists or weapons ever since the muzzle of Verty's rifle invaded his ruffles on the morning of his woes. He would have a revenge worthy of himself--certain, complete, and above all, quite safe. Mr. Jinks would wile the affections of Miss Redbud from him, fixing the said affections on himself; but that is not possible, since the young lady in question has gone home, and Apple Orchard is too far to walk. Still Mr. Jinks does not despair of doing something; and this something is what he seeks and ruminates upon, as the mixed rum and water glides down his throat.

Ralph yawns, laughs, and kicks his heels.

Then he rises; goes to the mantel-piece and gets a pipe; and begins to smoke--lazier than ever.

Mr. Jinks sets down his cup, and murmurs.

"Hey!" cries Ralph, sending out a cloud of smoke, "what are you groaning about, my dear fellow?"