_DEALING WITH A SINNER IN LOVE AND FAITHFULNESS_.
The next day Roderick, having slept well, was greatly refreshed, and
felt strong enough to move to his easy chair by the fire. Mary had
heaped up the peat and coppice oak on the hearth, and thrown open the
window till the air grew sweet and wholesome, and the clammy damps of
their hovel were dissipated like the nightmares that had been
oppressing his brain all through the past dreary week.
'And what can the rumours be that Sophie spoke of, Mary?' he asked. 'I
really am curious to know. I suspect they have influenced more people
than that absurd Duchess. That would account for the way the people
have stayed away from me, which has been surprising and even
distressing me a good deal. However, I am getting better now; a day or
two more and I shall be out among them, and I shall find it all out.
But I really feel hurt by their coldness and indifference to me.'
'Nonsense, Roddie! They are a foolish and ungrateful lot; never mind
them. You must follow the doctor's advice, and go south for the
winter, as soon as you are able to travel. Just look at the walls!
green with damp, and the moisture trickling down the plaster; and yet
this is only October! What will it be in January? It is fine weather
now, and we are burning as much fuel as can be done without setting
the house on fire, and it takes it all to drive the horrid mouldiness
even temporarily out of the air. When winter comes and the rain is
incessant out of doors, except when it snows, perhaps, for a change,
the window must be kept closed, and the mouldiness and the damp will
turn the place into a very cave, and, as the doctor said, after this
attack a very little matter will drive you into a consumption. You
must not think of it--it terrifies me, and, indeed, I am afraid even
for myself. As for the people--I think they will very likely think
better of you after we are gone. When your charities among them are
suspended, very likely they may think more of you and them. It will
serve them right, and be a warning against wagging their tattling
tongues so freely for the future. Have done with them! They are a
worthless set.'
'Fie, Mary! What are any of us but poor worthless creatures? We who
have education and an income, should not be hard on the poor souls.
The world must appear very different to them, from what it does to us.
Think what it must be to look into the half empty meal-girnel, and at
the little heap of potatoes, and know that that is all between them
and starvation, till more is earned,--that the smallest miscarriage, a
delay in receiving the weekly wage, a stumble ending in a sprain,
sickness of a child, even an accident to a horse or a car, may entail
a supperless night, or a day of hunger! And when all the energy and
care are needed to stave off from day to day their physical
destitution, is it not too much to look for those more graceful and
spiritual charities which make our life pleasant? It takes so much of
light and heat and moisture to support the mere plant life; and when
these are so stintedly supplied, it is surely over-exacting to look
for the same profusion of flower and fruit on the bare hill-side as
one expects in a sheltered garden. In visiting among the poor, I have
often felt humbled at the view of their sturdy fortitude under
privation, and the extent of their unostentatious charities to one
another. They will stint themselves of the necessaries of life to help
those worse provided than themselves, but they cannot talk about it.
Indeed, the beautiful act and the gracious word are never to be met
with both on the same bush among these wind-swept hills, and I am
thankful to say it is the deed I have oftenest observed. I feel bound
to make allowance for much rugged speech which might sound hard and
uncharitable to a stranger. You may sow mignonette and gilly-flower in
your garden, but it is the heather, tough and sturdy, which grows upon
the braes, and defies the blasts; and that, too, has its beauty and
its sweetness, and we value it less only because it is more abundant
and common.'
'Poor Roderick! The hebdomadal orator had broken out in him after his
long rest in bed,--the habit of prelecting before a silent auditory,
which many find so difficult to acquire, and which, when learnt, makes
so many long-winded and pragmatical nuisances in private life. It did
not trouble Mary. Born in a manse, she had been used to prelections
all her life, and as the periods would grow longer and more resonant,
she would know that no answer was expected, and would go on with her
work. Perhaps she regarded it as practise for Sunday, most likely she
did not think of it at all, as she settled more steadily to her
tatting and crochet work--the Penelope's web, always beginning and
never apparently coming to an end,--which kept her fingers pleasantly
busy, and left her mind in perfect peace.
There is no saying to what heights and depths of wisdom, or, mayhap,
nonsense, Roderick might have attained. The muse theologic, after a
week's inaction, inclined to long and discursive flight, but was
interrupted in full career by the entrance of Mr. Sangster.
Mr. Sangster was always a welcome visitor, being indeed the only man
in the congregation of education or judgment sufficient to warrant
confidential consultation. His rugged face and burly form showed some
discomposure, as, after a greeting of unusual warmth, for him, he took
his seat.
'This is not a mere friendly visit, Mr. Roderick,' he said;' I wish it
was. I am the advanced guard, if I may say so, of a deputation which
is going to wait on you; and I wish you distinctly to understand, that
I have no sympathy with it whatever. I would say that their errand is
both impertinent and absurd, but that these expressions are not half
strong enough to convey what I think; and, as I have told them, I only
accompany them to assure you that, though they are taking upon them to
speak in the name of your flock, we are not all to be taken as
represented by them. Quite the contrary!'
Mary flushed and looked disturbed, and presently she left the room.
Roderick's face showed only astonishment. 'But what is it about, Mr.
Sangster? Mary has used the word '_rumours_' more than once, but she
has not explained it, and you know I have been shut up here for a week
past. There must be something the matter, for none of the people have
come to see me, and scarcely any so far as I know have even asked how
I am. I have been so ill as scarcely to have noted the neglect, but
to-day, when I am again able to think, it seems strange. There are so
many warm hearts among them.'
'A set of born idiots!' muttered the Laird testily. But at that moment
the door opened, and the deputation appeared. Ebenezer Prittie and
Peter Malloch were grave and austere of demeanour, and dignified
withal, but a little uncertain. They had thought to gather facts,
hints, and experience for this more weighty visitation, in their
preliminary raid on Tibbie Tirpie; but when they had arrived before
her shieling, the door was locked, and no sign of life showed around
the premises but a starveling black cat, which arched its back
threateningly at their approach, and guarded the threshold with a
display of needle-sharp claws and teeth.
Mr. Geddie's deportment also was grave, but solemn rather than severe.
He was minded that his disapproval should be chastened with much love,
and expected thereby to win the culprit to repentance, and what would
be especially convenient in the present unripe and ill-gotten-up state
of their case, to confession.
Roderick greeted them with his wonted cordiality, provided them with
seats, and sat down facing them to hear what they would say, while the
Laird twirled his thumbs in expectancy; but they said nothing.
The laymen exchanged shakes of the head and glances of sorrowful
reprobation at the tranquil composure of this impenitent sinner, then
they sighed despondingly and looked at the carpet, till their clerical
leader should begin. Mr. Geddie had his voice and demeanour attuned to
sad solemnity and love, but the words which these sentiments were to
clothe were slow to arrive. He looked secretly at his intended
penitent, as if inviting him to open the conference, but the
invitation was unheeded. Curiosity and a well-mannered patience only
were apparent in his bearing, and these were gradually changed into
astonished amusement as the silence continued, and perhaps some slight
gleam of mischief, as Mr. Geddie's regard grew more appealing. It was
evident that their errand, whatever it might be, was hardly a friendly
one, or they would not feel so much difficulty in putting it into
words; and there was no reason why he should assist them to get into
position the artillery with which they were about to open a cannonade
on himself.
Mr. Geddie was an accomplished preacher. He could preach from any
text, at any length, and what was more, on any subject,--at least he
could work round to the subject he meant to discuss, from any text or
subject whatever, in a way the most natural. But a text or starting
point of some kind he must have, and hence his desire that Roderick
should speak. Had he even spoken of the weather, there would have been
an opening to compare present climatic conditions with those which the
impenitent wicked shall hereafter experience, and the whole affair
would then have been open before him, to discourse on such points and
phases as appeared expedient. But this obdurate person remained
persistently silent, instead of helping with becoming meekness to
prepare the discipline for his own shoulders. Mr. Geddie at length
bethought him of his Bible, and, like any other proper-minded person,
had recourse to that in his difficulty. Lifting his voice in a
melancholy cadence, while he opened the book--
'Let us read,' he cried, 'for edification and correction, a few of the
Psalms.'
His voice rose and fell according to his peculiar theory of elocution,
getting fuller and louder as he warmed to the work, till he had read
through the seven penitential Psalms. Then he paused and closed the
book.
'Brother!' he said, 'the words which we have read are the inspired
expression of contrition and penitence. They give fitting voice to
every agonized soul that has--stumbled in the miry ways of life.
Still, they are but in the general. Each case must bring its own
particular specification of transgression--must bring forth its own
dead out of its secret chambers, must lay bare its own moral wounds,
and expose them to the healing sight of truth. The passer-by may shoot
out the tongue and say, 'Aha!' but thou, my brother, hast purged thy
skirts by open confession and separation, and mayhap thou mayest save
thy soul! And oh! my brother, it is above price!'
Roderick sat speechless and amazed. Had Mr. Geddie been alone, he
would have supposed that he had lost his wits, or, in view of the
weight he attached to the penitential Psalms and to penitence, which
might perhaps mean penance, especially when coupled with confession,
he might have supposed that he had joined the Jesuits, who were
believed to be especially active at that time, and to be using all
manner of crafty devices to secure converts; but after what the Laird
had said, and in view of the lay delegates present, some other
explanation was needed.
'And art thou still speechless, Oh, my brother?' the exhorter went on,
'Thou for whom our hearts have yearned with many tears? Think not
longer to shelter in delusive secresy. Thy refuges of lies are
overthrown, thy sin discovered. Come forth and make submission to the
Church, while there is time! lest no place be found for repentance,
though thou seek it with tears!'
Mr. Geddie's own handkerchief here came into requisition. If we would
raise the sluices of our neighbours' tears, it is not amiss to begin
by letting loose our own. Hysteria is infinitely infectious, as more
than one pulpit orator, blessed with the gift of tears, has found in
his brilliantly successful experience.
Roderick caught at the momentary silence to enquire what it all meant,
and to what circumstance he could possibly be indebted for the
singular scene. He looked to Ebenezer and Peter Malloch, but both
turned their eyes austerely away, and fixed them on the carpet. He
next addressed the Laird; but the Laird replied that they must state
their own errand, he would not soil his lips with it, and if they had
sense enough left to let decent shame keep them even yet from
speaking, the best thing they could do would be to leave it unsaid,
and trust to the whole exhibition being condoned as a mistake.
Mr. Geddie, handkerchief in hand, eyes fixed on the ground, was
gathering his forces for a fresh onslaught on this hard and obdurate
conscience. Mr. Sangster's remark appeared singularly inopportune,
treacherous even, and most censurable. What hope of reducing the
garrison if his own followers, his auxiliaries at least, were thus to
turn and raise a diversion in favour of the besieged? He turned to the
Laird in sorrow rather than in anger--
'Surely, Mr. Sangster, in view of the heavy responsibility we
yesterday undertook, it is not well to encourage our brother in
hardening his heart!'
'What responsibilities have you undertaken, Mr. Geddie?' asked
Roderick; 'and who has laid them upon you?' I have listened to your
reading and your exhortation, which I assume are meant for my benefit,
but you have not condescended to explain their object, and I am at a
loss to understand what it is you want.'
Mr. Geddie looked to his two associates, appalled at such persistence,
and sadly shook his head. The associates shook their heads also, and
looked uncomfortable. They were aware from the attitude of the Laird
that there was a certain degree of thinness as yet in their case, when
it came to be stated in detail without inference and insinuation; and
they had been hoping that the solemn exercises in which they had
engaged were to move the sinner to repentance and compel him to
confess his fault. For they began to fear it might be hard for the
present to prove the fault, and would have preferred to be left only
the easier parts, rebuking the offender, and figuring before the
Church as its zealous and victorious champions. The silence continued.
Mr. Geddie had been dwelling on the moral and emotional aspects of the
case, rather than the circumstantial. To his excellent, and even
devout, but far from legal mind, the question had appeared to be one
of sin, repentance, and church discipline; the more secular
considerations of guilty or not guilty, facts, proofs, and
probabilities, had never occurred to him at all. The case had been
presented to him by persons whom he believed to be excellent and of
sound evangelical views, and he had never dreamed of questioning what
they said, revising the grounds of their suspicions, or asking what
there might be to urge on the other side. When, therefore, the
defendant requested, as it were, to hear the indictment against him,
his thoughts and ideas had to be called in from the wide and very
different field over which they were scattered, and brought to bear on
a different and entirely new aspect of the case. While he had been
deeply moved and interested in the case, viewed as one of established
ill-doing, and had thought out very fully the relations of the church
to the sinner and the sin, he found that his mind had entirely left
out of consideration the grounds on which the accusation had been
based, and that if it came to discussing the question of guilty or not
guilty, he knew nothing about it and had nothing to say. It is not to
be supposed, however, that on that account he believed any the less
utterly in the guilt of the accused. He felt that he could not discuss
it, being unprepared; but his mind, though well-meaning and incapable
of intentional disingenuousness, was of the tenacious rather than that
facile and self-styled candid order which, because it is incapable of
taking strong hold, and is easily moved by every fresh suggestion,
claims to be dispassionate and judicial. This man had been represented
to him by what he considered good authority, as a sinner, and a sinner
he would continue to regard him till irrefragable proof or higher
authority declared the reverse. Mr. Geddie, therefore, kept silence
under the new aspect of the case. He was clearly entitled to do so,
seeing that in a question of circumstance, a parishioner with local
knowledge must be able to speak with more understanding than a
stranger, even though an ordained minister. On Ebenezer it naturally
devolved to speak. He straightened himself in his seat, opened his
mouth even and drew in the needful breath; but while he considered how
the 'winged words' ought to arrange themselves, the vital wind escaped
unmodulated from the doubting chest. A henpecked person, his verbal
ventures had so often come to grief, that he had learned so to think
and think, before he hazarded an utterance, that the opportunity, the
breath, and even the idea were generally gone before he had strung
himself to the utterance. The duty, therefore, fell to Peter Malloch,
on whom no suspicion of henpecking could rest, as witness the mild
apologetic sister who sometimes waited in the shop, and the meek old
mother who was always stitching shirts for him, and spoke of him as
the Convener;--and then there was no wife.
Peter cleared his voice and leant forward. Nothing could have pleased
him more than thus to hold forth before a minister and the Laird; a
success might lead to his being admitted to the eldership, and would
certainly add to his weight in the church, so he resolved to do
himself justice.