Before Matilda had any chance for more talk in private with David, the
week came to an end; and Sunday afternoon found her in Sunday school as
usual. But not as usual, she had hardly a word or a minute to spare for
Sarah, who was telling of her progress in learning to use a sewing
machine and of her own and her mother's bettered health. Delightful as
it was, and as Sarah's face was, all luminous with grateful and glad
feeling, Matilda through the whole of it was intent upon Mr.
Wharncliffe and his motions; and the instant Sarah had left her she
sprang to his side.
"Are you busy, sir? can I talk to you?"
"Talk?" said Mr. Wharncliffe; "then we want some time for it, do we?"
"If you please, sir; a little."
"Then we'll talk as we walk. Now, what is it?"
But Matilda waited, until they were out of hearing of all that they
knew; then in the solitude of the wide avenue she began.
"Mr. Wharncliffe, I want some advice. I don't just know how to manage
something."
"Very likely. Let us hear."
"I want to know how to speak to somebody who does not know about Jesus,
and who wants to know."
"That often calls for wisdom," said Mr. Wharncliffe; "but I should
think it would not be difficult in your case. You can tell what you
know; what Jesus has done and is doing for you, and what he has
promised to do for everybody."
"Yes, sir, but it is not _that_. It is somebody who wants to know
whether Jesus is the Messiah?" And Matilda looked up very eagerly in
her teacher's face.
"Well. When 'somebody' has found out that Jesus is the Saviour, he will
have no doubt that he is the One 'anointed to save.' You know, Messiah,
and Christ, mean simply 'anointed.'"
"Yes, sir, I know. But--this person--"
"What of him?" said Mr. Wharncliffe smiling. "Is he a very difficult
person?"
"Rather," said Matilda slowly; "because--he has never known that Jesus
_is_ the Messiah."
"My dear child, to know that truly, in the full meaning and scope of
the words, is what no one ever does except by the teaching of the
Spirit of God."
"_That_ isn't it," said Matilda. "This person--does not know whether to
believe the New Testament."
"I would not advise you, Matilda, to hold arguments with an infidel,
young or old."
"O he is not an infidel, sir! He is a Jew."
"A Jew!" exclaimed Mr. Wharncliffe.
"Yes. And now, he wants to know whether Jesus is the Messiah."
"Is he in earnest, or talking for talk's sake?"
"Oh, in earnest, sir! very much in earnest."
There came a sudden veil over the clear blue eyes that looked down at
Matilda; then their owner said,
"I must take you home with me."
It was not far, down a cross street. Mr. Wharncliffe left Matilda in
the parlour a few moments, and returned with a book in his hand.
"This is the best I can do for you," he said. "Unless you could bring
your friend to see me?"
"Oh no, sir! he would not. I don't think he has spoken to anybody but
me."
"Nobody but you? Has he no one to speak to?"
"No, sir. Not about this."
"Well, my child, as I said, this is the best thing I can do for you."
"What is it, sir?"
"A first-rate reference Bible."
"I have got a Bible."
"I know that. But this has references, which you will find will explain
a vast many things to you. I advise you not to talk much, because you
might not always know just what to say. Do this. Let your friend bring
any word or promise about the Messiah that he knows of in the Old
Testament Scriptures; you find the place in this little Bible, and see
what passages of the _New_ Testament it refers to; see, here are the
words of the Bible on one page and the references to each verse on the
page opposite. You know what these abbreviations mean?"
"O yes, sir. O thank you, sir!" said Matilda, whose hands had now
received the volume and whose eyes were eagerly scanning it. "I will
take great care of it, sir."
"I hope you will; but not for my sake. I wish you to keep it, Matilda.
It will be useful to you very often. And I shall want to hear how you
get on."
He took back the book to put her name in it, while Matilda coloured
high, and could hardly find words to speak her thanks. Her teacher
smiled at her, escorted her to her own door again, and Matilda went in
a happy child.
She was eager now for another chance to talk with David, and she
fancied he wished for it too; but demands of school on the one hand,
and Norton and Mrs. Laval on the other, for days made it impossible.
For Matilda well understood that the matter was not to be openly spoken
of, and the opportunity must be private when it came. She studied her
new little Bible meanwhile with great assiduity, hoping to prepare
herself for David's questions; however, she soon found she could not do
that. She could only get familiar with the arrangements of her book;
what David might ask or might say, it was impossible to guess.
Meantime Judy's disagreeable attentions continued.
"Why do you not eat your soup, Matilda?" Mrs. Lloyd asked one day. It
was Sunday of course; the day when the young folks dined with the old
ones.
"It is very hot, grandmamma."
"Hot? mine isn't hot. It is not hot at all; not _too_ hot."
"It is hot with pepper, I think."
"Pepper? There is not pepper enough in it."
Matilda thought that Mrs. Lloyd's palate and her own perhaps perceived
pepper differently. But when the first course was served and Matilda
had taken curry, of which she was very fond, this was again hot; so
sharp, in fact, that she could not eat it.
"What's the matter?" said Mrs. Lloyd,--"pepper there too?"
"It is very hot, ma'am," said Matilda, while Judy burst out laughing.
"Curry always is hot, child," said the old lady. "Why do you take it,
if you do not like it?"
"I like it very much, grandmamma; only to-day--"
"It is not any hotter than usual, to-day. You should know what you want
before you take it. You can make your dinner of rice, then."
The rice was as hot as the rest of it, Matilda thought. She could not
eat; and she was hungry, for she had had a good walk and a brisk lesson
in Sunday school; but the fiery portion on her plate quite baffled her
hunger. She was never helped to pudding or pie more than once; she went
hungry to bed.
That did her no harm; but it happened again and again that, if not
starved, she was at least disappointed of eating something she liked,
or had something she did eat, spoiled by its seasoning. Very indulgent
as Mrs. Lloyd was about things in general, respecting table manners and
all the etiquette of graceful behaviour at meal times she was
exceedingly particular. She did not allow the young people to make any
ado about what they eat. She gave them liberty enough of choice, but
once the choice made, it was made; and mistakes were at the person's
own risk. So when Matilda's salad was very spicy with cinnamon, or her
ice cream excessively and unaccountably salt, or her oysters seemed to
have been under a heavy shower of red pepper, there was no resource but
to be quiet; unless she would have made a scene; as it was, she got
credit for being fanciful and very dainty.
Weeks passed before she and David could be alone together; eager and
curious and sympathetic as she was. David did not change; the gloom of
his troublesome thoughts hung over him, she could see, all the while;
though nobody else seemed to notice it. At last, one evening in March,
it fell out that all the family were going to the theatre. Even Mrs.
Lloyd; for some particular attraction was just then drawing crowds to
the nightly spectacle; and Norton and Judy had put in their claim to be
allowed to go, and it had been granted. David was invited, but he
refused without ceremony. Mrs. Laval turned to Matilda; and Mrs. Lloyd
asked graciously if she would like to go? Now Matilda would have liked
very much to go, on one side of the question; yet her answer was a
grateful negative.
"What's the reason?" said the old lady. "It is no use asking for Davy's
reasons, for they are sure to be immovable; but you, Tilly, what's the
matter with you? Were you ever there?"
"No, ma'am, never."
"It'll amuse you, child; come! Judy's going."
It was difficult to answer; but Matilda remembered words she had heard
from Mr. Richmond, which shewed that he did not think the theatre a
place for a Christian to be amused in; and without in the least
understanding his reasons, Matilda did not dare go. She said, and
truly, that she would rather stay at home; and so it fell out that she
and David were left for a whole evening alone.
The carriage had driven off; the two came back into the little
reception room where the family usually had tea and spent the evening;
Matilda having slipped upstairs and brought down her two Bibles. David
turned up the gas and looked at her.
"What have you got there, Tilly?"
"A book that will help us, I hope."
"I wish it would help me!" said David, as he sat down and buried his
face in his hands.
"We've got all the evening to ourselves, if we want it," said Matilda a
little timidly.
"Yes. They will not be home before twelve o' clock."
But David did not seem in a hurry to avail himself of his opportunity.
He sat with his head in his hands, and then got up and walked about,
looking dark enough. Matilda waited and watched him, wondering and
anxious.
"What do you think of Judy?" he said suddenly, coming to a stand
opposite Matilda.
"I think she likes to amuse herself," Matilda answered, very much
surprised.
"How do you like her amusing herself at your expense?"
"I don't like it, David."
"Why don't you get angry?"
"I do."
"So do I, sometimes; but it is your affair. Why don't you speak out?"
"She wouldn't care, David; it wouldn't make any difference."
"Judy? No, not with her; but why don't you speak out to grandmamma, or
aunt Zara? They would care."
Matilda's cheeks flushed, and her eyes even looked a little watery; she
did not answer at once.
"I don't want to do that, David."
"Why not?"
"It wouldn't be returning good for evil, you know."
"Good for evil! no," said David; "but it would be right."
"I don't think it would be right," Matilda said gently.
"Why wouldn't it? Good for evil? that is not the law; and it is not
justice. The law is, 'Life shall go for life, eye for eye, tooth for
tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.'"
"I don't want to do justice," said Matilda smiling.
"Why not?" He was observing the little girl closely.
"I don't know, David; it would be no pleasure. Besides--"
"Besides what?"
"Jesus says we mustn't."
"Mustn't what? Do justice?"
"Yes. No--not to ourselves sometimes. You asked me what I knew about
him; this is one thing. He says we must not return evil for evil; nor
be angry."
"You were angry at Judy, though?"
"Well, for a little while, sometimes. I couldn't always help it; or I
_could_, I suppose, but I didn't."
"How could you?" said David. "I cannot. When I am angry, I am angry;
and there is nothing to do but wait till I get over it."
"That's another thing I know about Jesus," said Matilda gravely. "He
takes the anger away." She wished that David would begin upon his
former line of inquiry, now that she had her little book to consult;
but she could not hurry him. David looked hard at her, and then his
gloom seemed to come over him. He sunk his head again; and Matilda
waited.
"What can you tell me?" he said at last.
"I don't know. Perhaps, if you would try it, my book would tell you
something."
"What could it tell me?"
"Answer some of your questions, perhaps."
David at last roused to action. He went off upstairs and brought down
_his_ Bible--half a Bible, it looked to Matilda's eyes; and under the
bright gas lights the two sat down to compare notes.
"I don't know but a part of the things that are said about the
Messiah," said David, turning over the leaves; "but what I do know,
seem to me impossible to be fulfilled in him you Gentiles think the
Messiah. And yet--they said--"
David stopped, in great perplexity.
"What are some of those things?"
"Well, this is one. He is to be of the seed of David; for so Isaiah
prophesied."
"'And a rod hath come out from the stock of Jesse, and a branch from
his roots is fruitful. Rested on him hath the Spirit of Jehovah, the
spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might,
the spirit of knowledge and fear of Jehovah.'"
"Well, David, Jesus was that. See,--here is the whole list of the names
of the people." And she put in the boy's hands the first chapter of
Matthew.
"'The son of David, the son of Abraham'!" cried he; but then
immediately became so absorbed in the chapter and in that list of names
which Matilda had always thought very uninteresting, that she could
only watch him and doubt if he would come back to talk with her any
more that evening.
"But," said David at last, handing back her book, "that is only one
thing. Listen to this. The promise was to David--' I have raised up thy
seed after thee, who is of thy sons, and I have established his
kingdom; he doth build for me a house, and I have established his
throne unto the age.' Where is the throne of--of your Messiah, as you
call him? And see here again, in the Psalms of David--
"'I have made a covenant for my chosen,
'I have sworn to David my servant,
'Even to the age do I establish thy seed,
'And have built from generation to generation thy throne.'"
"What is 'to the age'?" Matilda asked.
"For ever! Where is the throne of your Jesus?"
"It is in heaven," said Matilda promptly.
"But Messiah is to reign on earth."
"Now listen, David; this is what the angel said of Jesus, when he came
to tell Mary that he should be her son. 'He shall be great, and shall
be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God shall give unto him
the throne of his father David; and he shall reign over the house of
Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end.'"
"Well," said David, "but when? and where?"
"Here is another place that my book turns to, David; now listen. 'David
himself saith in the book of Psalms, The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit
thou on my right hand, till I make thine enemies thy footstool.'"
"Yes, I know, it says so."
"Well, David, then don't you see he will be up in heaven until the time
comes? Here is another passage--it begins about something else, and
then goes on; 'Which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the
dead, and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places, far
above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every
name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is
to come; and hath put all things under his feet.' And here again--'But
this man, after he had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat
down on the right hand of God; from henceforth expecting till his
enemies be made his footstool.'"
"When will that be?" said David.
"I don't know. I don't think it tells."
"But Messiah is to be a Conqueror," David went on, passing from one
thing to another. It is written,--
"'Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O mighty,
'Thy glory and thy majesty!
'As to thy majesty--prosper!--ride!
'Because of truth and meekness--righteousness.
'And thy right hand sheweth thee fearful things.
'Thine arrows are sharp,
'Peoples fall under thee--
'In the heart of the enemies of the king.'"
"Where is that?" Matilda asked, and David told her. She eagerly
consulted her little book, and then cried out,
"Why it is the very same thing! Look here, David; or just listen, and I
will read.
"'And I saw heaven opened'--"
"Stop. _Who_ saw heaven opened? Who said that?"
Matilda paused. "It is in the Revelation," she said.
"Yes, but what is that?"
"I don't know exactly; but I know it is the things that were shown to
John, the apostle, about what is going to be by and by."
"Who was that John?"
"Why, one of the apostles, David; one of the twelve apostles, that were
always with Jesus, and went everywhere with him and saw all that he
did. Then after he was gone, they preached to the people, and told what
they had seen and heard."
"After he was gone where?"
"Back to heaven."
"Well--read," said David, with a troubled sigh.
"'And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat on
him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge
and make war. His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were
many crowns; and he had a name written, that no man knew but he
himself. And he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood; and his
name is called The Word of God. And the armies which were in heaven
followed him upon white horses, clothed in white linen, white and
clean. And out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should
smite the nations; and he shall rule them with a rod of iron; and he
treadeth the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God. And
he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS
AND LORD OF LORDS.'"
"But he was to be a Prophet, like Moses," said David; "and he was to be
born in Bethlehem in the land of Judah."
"Well, he was," said Matilda.
"Then how should he be all _that?_" And the boy's frame shook, as if a
nervous shudder had taken him.
"Don't you remember the 110th Psalm?" said Matilda after a little more
study. "'The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit thou at my right hand, until I
make thine enemies thy footstool.' Look at it."
David did so, in his own Scriptures, and pondered the words a second
time.
"And this is what the Lord Jesus said about those very words, David.
'While the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them, saying,
What think ye of Christ? whose son is he? They say unto him, The son of
David. He saith unto them, How then doth David in spirit call him Lord,
saying, The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit thou on my right hand, till I
make thine enemies thy footstool? If David then call him Lord, how is
he his son?'"
"What did they say?" asked David eagerly.
"Who?"
"Those Pharisees. What did they answer?"
"It says 'no man was able to answer him a word.'"
Poor David was in the same condition. "Well, go on," he said, between
puzzle and despondency.
Matilda consulted her references to see with what she should go on; and
then read the three first verses of the epistle to the Hebrews.
"'God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past
unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto
us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also
he made the worlds; who being the brightness of his glory, and the
express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of
his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the
right hand of the Majesty on high.'"
"But--but,--" said David looking up, "Messiah was to be born in
Bethlehem of Judah, for so said the prophet Micah."
"Jesus was born in Bethlehem," Matilda replied.
"But--he was called the Nazarene," said David with a kind of shiver.
The boy was terribly excited, though he controlled the outward
expression of his excitement as much as possible.
"He lived in Nazareth," said Matilda eagerly; "that was his home."
"Then how could he be born in Bethlehem? it's near a hundred miles off,
I think."
"But don't you know?" said Matilda. "Caesar Augustus ordered everybody
to be--what is it you call it? I forget;--to have their names put down,
in a list of all the families and tribes, so that they might be taxed--"
"Taking the census?"
"I don't know; maybe it's that. And so, Joseph and Mary had to go to
Bethlehem to have their names put down there, because it was David's
city, you know, and they were of the house of David. And while they
were there, Jesus was born. But after a while they went back and lived
in Nazareth."
David looked dark, and eager; he made no answer.
"And it says in the first chapter of Matthew, David, that the prophet
said, 'they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is,
God with us.'"
"It is true," said David. "So spoke the prophet Isaiah. But how then
did he speak also of Messiah's sufferings? how could that be?"
"Where, David? and how?"
The boy turned over gloomily the leaves of the book which he held, and
began to read at the fifty-third chapter.
"'Who hath given credence to that which we heard? and the arm of
Jehovah, on whom hath it been revealed?'"
"What chapter is that?" Matilda asked; and he told her. She turned to
the place.
"'_Who hath believed our report?_' that is it exactly, David. Don't you
see? You do not believe it, and all the Jews do not believe it, when it
is told to them."
"What?" said David.
"Why, that Jesus is the Messiah; and all about him. 'He is despised and
rejected of men'--see how it goes on."
"What does this mean, I wonder," said David as he looked over the
chapter--"'He is pierced for our transgressions, Bruised for our
iniquities, The chastisement of our peace is on him, And by his bruise
there is healing to us'?"
"This is what it means, David; 'the Son of man came not to be
ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for
many.' That is in Matthew. And here in Romans--'God commendeth his love
toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much
more then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from
wrath through him.' And in Corinthians--'He hath made him to be sin for
us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in
him.' Don't you see?"
"O hush! stop!" said David; "you bewilder me. Here Isaiah goes on
"'Each to his own way we have turned,
'And Jehovah hath caused to meet on him
'The punishment of us all.
'It hath been exacted, and he hath answered.
'And he openeth not his mouth,
'As a lamb to the slaughter he is brought--'"
David stopped again, and Matilda searched for words to answer him, and
presently read,
"'So Christ was once offered to bear the sin of many; and unto them
that look for him shall he appear the second time without sin unto
salvation.'"
"The second time?" said David.
"Yes; when he comes to take the kingdom, you know."
David sighed deeply.
"David," said Matilda hesitatingly, she had been watching for a chance
to say it, "don't you know what Zechariah says about him?"
"Zechariah?"
"Yes; the prophet Zechariah. Mr. Wharncliffe says that is a time coming
to your people;--in the twelfth chapter. You can read it best for
yourself in your own book. It begins at the ninth verse--what I mean."
"This?" said David.
"'And I have poured on the house of David,
'And on the inhabitants of Jerusalem,
'A spirit of grace and supplications,
'And they have looked unto me whom they pierced,
'And they have mourned over it,
'Like a mourning over the only one,
'And they have been in bitterness for it,
'Like a bitterness over the first-born.
'In that day great is the mourning in Jerusalem,
'As the mourning of Hadadrimmon in the valley of Megiddon;
'And mourned hath the land--every family apart;
'The family of the house of David apart,
'And their women apart;
'The family of the house of Nathan apart,
'And their women apart;
'The family of the house of Levi apart,
'And their women apart;
'The family of Shimei apart,
'And their women apart,
'All the families that are left,
'Every family apart, and their women apart!'"
The boy's face grew darker and darker as he read, and he remained
gloomily looking at the page after he had finished. "It looks like it!"
he said at last.
"Looks like what, David?" Matilda asked timidly. His face was very
cloudy as he lifted it to speak to her, and he spoke with difficulty.
"They are saying, Matilda,--my uncle, I mean, and the wise ones;--they
are saying, I heard them saying it a few weeks ago, softly, to each
other, that the time must be up; and that if Messiah does not come very
soon--"
"What then?" Matilda asked, for he had stopped suddenly.
"Then--they say--it must be, or may be, that he _has_ come!"
She was astonished at the changes in David's face. It flushed and
paled, his lips quivered, his brows were knit; the dark eyes were like
clouds and fire at once. Evidently there was a struggle going on which
she had no means of gauging.
"What if he has?" she asked gently. "Would you care so very much?"
"Care!" exclaimed David, and his expression startled her.
"Care!--whether our Messiah has come, and we have not known him, and
have injured him and rejected him?"
"But that is just what Isaiah said would be."
"Don't!" said David. "I can't bear it! If that is true, there will be
such a cry as Zechariah said, and I will begin it. But I don't believe
it, Matilda; it cannot be. I will not believe it."
He threw down his book and walked up and down the room with folded arms
and a brow black as night. Hardly a boy's action, but neither was it a
boy's feeling which possessed him just then. Matilda looked on, very
sorry, very much awed, and entirely at a loss to know what to say. She
consulted her Bible again and found a passage which she wished to shew
him; but she had to wait for the chance. David walked up and down, up
and down, restlessly.
"I can't make it out!" he exclaimed. "It confuses me. If _that_ were
true, then all our whole nation have been wrong, all these years; and
we have lost everything; the promise made to Abraham and all."
"But Jesus will fulfil all the promises," said Matilda gently.
"To those who disowned him?" David asked almost fiercely.
"I think he will," said Matilda. "Why the first Christians were some of
those very Jews."
"How can that be?" said David standing still and looking at her.
Matilda found the second chapter of Acts and handed it to him. She
thought her own words were best to be few. David looked unwillingly at
her book, but however took it, sat down, and under the light of the gas
burner began to read. Matilda could not help furtively watching him,
and it almost frightened her; the changes in the boy's face were so
quick and strong. He read like one reading for his life; he never knew
that Matilda was watching him; his eyes seemed to pierce the book like
steel lances; and through his parted lips the breath came and went
hurriedly. Matilda thought he never would get through the chapter, he
was so long over it.
"May I keep this a day or two?" he said at last. Matilda joyfully
assented.
"I wish I had some one to talk with about this," he said; "somebody who
could answer me, or who could _not_ answer me."
"Your uncles?" Matilda suggested.
"They would only silence me."
"I wish you could see Mr. Richmond."
"Who's he?"
"He's a friend of mine, and O, the pleasantest and the nicest man! and
he can answer anybody."
"Can he?" said David half smiling. "Where does he live?"
"Up in Shadywalk. I _wish_ you could see him. He could tell you just
everything, and I cannot."
"You have told me so much, though, that I must know more. What is this
Mr. Richmond?"
"He is a minister, David. O you would like him."
"He would be the first, then," said David.
"He is not the least like Dr. Blandford not the _least_."
"Maybe there's some chance then. Matilda, don't tell anybody of all
this; it is between you and me."
"No, David, of course I shall not. Are you going to bed?"
"I am going up."
"They won't be home yet for an hour."
"I don't want to see them when they do come."
"Nor have any supper?"
"I don't care about supper. Good night."
He went off, and Matilda's heart was very tender for him. What could
she do? He had carried away with him the little reference Bible; she
could not look out passages for his help any more. Had they been for
his help? The whole talk looked very confused to Matilda as she
remembered it; and David evidently was in much more trouble than he
shewed. Matilda prayed for better help than she could give, prayed with
all her heart; then found herself very sleepy and went to bed.