Wilfrid Cumbermede Part 41

'It was Judas.'

I am not sure that Charley was right, but that is what he said. I was taking no part in the conversation, but listening eagerly, with a strong suspicion that Charley had been leading Home to this very point.

'A man must live,' said Home.

'That's precisely what I take it Judas said: for my part I don't see it.'

'Don't see what?'

'That a man must live. It would be a far more incontrovertible a.s.sertion that a man must die--and a more comfortable one, too.'

'Upon my word, I don't understand you, Osborne! You make a fellow feel deuced queer with your remarks.'

'At all events, you will allow that the first of them--they call them apostles, don't they?--didn't take to preaching the gospel for the sake of a living. What a satire on the whole kit of them that word _living_, so constantly in all their mouths, is! It seems to me that Messrs Peter and Paul and Matthew, and all the rest of them, forsook their livings for a good chance of something rather the contrary.'

'Then it _was_ true--what they said about you at Forest's?'

'I don't know what they said,' returned Charley; 'but before I would pretend to believe what I didn't--'

'But I _do_ believe it, Osborne.'

'May I ask on what grounds?'

'Why--everybody does.'

'That would be no reason, even if it were a fact, which it is not. You believe it, or rather, choose to think you believe it, because you've been told it. Sooner than pretend to teach what I have never learned, and be looked up to as a pattern of G.o.dliness, I would 'list in the ranks. There, at least, a man might earn an honest living.'

'By Jove! You do make a fellow feel uncomfortable!' repeated Home.

'You've got such a--such an uncompromising way of saying things--to use a mild expression.'

'I think it's a sneaking thing to do, and unworthy of a gentleman.'

'I don't see what right you've got to bully me in that way,' said Home, getting angry.

It was time to interfere.

'Charley is so afraid of being dishonest, Home,' I said, 'that he is rude.--You are rude now, Charley.'

'I beg your pardon, Home,' exclaimed Charley at once.

'Oh, never mind!' returned Home with gloomy good-nature.

'You ought to make allowance, Charley,' I pursued. 'When a man has been accustomed all his life to hear things spoken of in a certain way, he cannot help having certain notions to start with.'

'If I thought as...o...b..rne does,' said Home, 'I _would_ sooner 'list than go into the Church.'

'I confess,' I rejoined, 'I do not see how any one can take orders, unless he not only loves G.o.d with all his heart, but receives the story of the New Testament as a revelation of him, precious beyond utterance.

To the man who accepts it so, the calling is the n.o.blest in the world.'

The others were silent, and the conversation turned away. From whatever cause, Home did not go into the Church, but died fighting in India.

He soon left us--Charley remaining behind.

'What a hypocrite I am!' he exclaimed;--'following a profession in which I must often, if I have any practice at all, defend what I know to be wrong, and seek to turn justice from its natural course.'

'But you can't always know that your judgment is right, even if it should be against your client. I heard an eminent barrister say once that he had come out of the court convinced by the arguments of the opposite counsel.'

'And having gained the case?'

'That I don't know.'

'He went in believing his own side anyhow, and that made it all right for him.'

'I don't know that either. His private judgment was altered, but whether it was for or against his client, I do not remember. The fact, however, shows that one might do a great wrong by refusing a client whom he judged in the wrong.'

'On the contrary, to refuse a brief on such grounds would be best for all concerned. Not believing in it, you could not do your best, and might be preventing one who would believe in it from taking it up.'

'The man might not get anybody to take it up.'

'Then there would be little reason to expect that a jury charged under ordinary circ.u.mstances would give a verdict in his favour.'

'But it would be for the barristers to const.i.tute themselves the judges.'

'Yes--of their own conduct--only that. There I am again! The finest ideas about the right thing--and going on all the same, with open eyes running my head straight into the noose! Wilfrid, I'm one of the weakest animals in creation. What if you found at last that I had been deceiving _you_! What would you say?'

'Nothing, Charley--to any one else.'

'What would you say to yourself, then?'

'I don't know. I know what I should do.'

'What?'

'Try to account for it, and find as many reasons as I could to justify you. That is, I would do just as you do for every one but yourself.'

He was silent--plainly from emotion, which I attributed to his pleasure at the a.s.surance of the strength of my friendship.

'Suppose you could find none?' he said, recovering himself a little.

'I should still believe there _were_ such. _Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner_, you know.'

He brightened at this.

'You _are_ a friend, Wilfrid! What a strange condition mine is!--for ever feeling I could do this and that difficult thing, were it to fall in my way, and yet constantly failing in the simplest duties--even to that of common politeness. I behaved like a brute to Home. He's a fine fellow, and only wants to see a thing to do it. _I_ see it well enough, and don't do it. Wilfrid, I shall come to a bad end. When it comes, mind I told you so, and blame n.o.body but myself. I mean what I say.

'Nonsense, Charley! It's only that you haven't active work enough, and get morbid with brooding over the germs of things.'

'Oh, Wilfrid, how beautiful a life might be! Just look at that one in the New Testament! Why shouldn't _I_ be like that? _I_ don't know why.