A DISAPPOINTMENT
Originally Korah Brand had been a sailor--careless of religion, and
content to live for the day without taking thought of the morrow. Born
in England, trained as a weaver, he had really wandered to America and
the South Seas at the dictation of a restless and inquiring spirit. In
those unregenerate days he had been a law unto himself, and thereby
sufficiently ill-governed. But the chance words of a missionary, met
with in Samoa, had turned his thoughts towards religion, and,
deserting his seafaring life, he henceforth worked as a labourer in
the Lord's vineyard.
Yet this change hardened rather than softened his character. He held
by the Mosaic law, and interpreted the precepts of Christ in a spirit
of narrow bigotry. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth;" "If thy
right hand offend thee, cut it off." These were the fundamental
articles of his creed. He spoke much of the punishment, little of the
promise, and daunted the minds of his hearers with threats of eternal
doom. In his own way he was a good man, but incapable of preaching on
the text, "God is Love." He hardly understood that these three words
form the true basis of Christianity.
In answer to Johnson's urgent letter. Brand presented himself next
morning in the study. He had visited it several times before, yet on
this occasion he again glanced critically round him as if in search of
some indulgence deserving of rebuke. But the room and its contents
were plain--even poor. The furniture was of stained deal, the floor
was covered with coarse cocoa-nut matting brought by its owner from
Koiau. There were savage weapons on the walls between the well-filled
bookcases: shells of strange hue and form ranged on the mantelpiece,
and bright-coloured chintz curtains, drawn back with red, white, and
blue cords, draped the one window. On these last Brand's eyes rested
with disapprobation.
"The lust of the eye is there, brother," he declared to the pensive
Johnson; "why do you deck your dwelling with purple and fine linen?"
"Miss Arnott gave them to me," explained Johnson, lifting his heavy
eyes; "she thought the room looked bare, and draped the window
herself. The curtains are only of chintz, brother Brand, although the
cords are of silk. They can scarcely do harm."
"Admit God's light into your tabernacle. Let not your heart be led
astray by the gifts of a light woman."
Though he felt sick in mind and body, Johnson could not let this
remark pass without a protest.
"Miss Arnott is one of our most devoted sisters," said he, stiffly;
"she was once in the bonds of sin as a singing woman, but she gave up
the allurements of the world to serve humbly in our Zion."
"The old leaven is still in her, brother. Such gay adornments savour
of the world. Let me say a word in season----"
"This is not the season for words," interrupted Johnson, impatiently.
"I have to speak with you on other and more important matters."
"Nothing is more important than a man's soul," rebuked Korah, shaking
his shaggy head; "but I suppose you desire to talk of the maiden
Bithiah?"
"Yes. I want you to take her away to Koiau as soon as possible; but I
fear that you will not be able to do so." Johnson rose and paced the
room. "She has disappeared," he said, in a low voice.
"Disappeared!" repeated Brand, harshly. "What do you mean, brother?
Have you lost the precious pearl entrusted to your charge?"
"Tera is lost. I admit she----."
"Not Tera, friend. We know her as Bithiah."
"Bithiah is lost," repeated the minister, patiently. "She left my
house last evening, shortly after four o'clock, and has not returned.
I fear," he added, "that she has taken her pearls with her."
"What pearls, brother? What pearls?"
"Pearls worth three thousand pounds, which Buli gave her to sell here,
before she returned to Koiau. She wished to keep them until the time
of her return, and gave them into my keeping. In this drawer," said
Johnson, touching the desk, "I locked them up. When I returned
yesterday evening the pearls were gone--Bithiah also."
It will be perceived that Johnson omitted to explain the loss and
return of the bills. This he did for two reasons. Firstly, his private
affairs were his own concern. Secondly, to take Brand into his
confidence would result only in a lecture. Korah, however, found in
the disappearance of Tera and her pearls quite sufficient matter for
anger. It was serious that an influential convert, and a comparatively
large fortune, should be lost to the sect of which he was a member. At
first he was inclined to speak severely; but a momentary reflection
convinced him that it would be wiser first to examine Johnson with a
view to reaching the root of the matter. Brand was not without
diplomatic gifts.
"If you please," said he, dryly, "we will approach this matter with
more particularity. How do you know that Bithiah has gone away?"
"How do I know?" echoed the minister, with surprise on his haggard
face; "why, she has not been home all night. Moreover, we had a few
words."
"About what?"
Johnson hesitated. It was unpleasant to tell this unsympathetic zealot
the story of his love; but for the sake of gaining help it seemed
inevitable. Still he temporized, so that courage to speak boldly might
come to him in the interval. "About a man called Finland," said he.
"Jack Finland, the sailor? Brother Carwell's nephew?"
"Oh, you know him?"
"I know of him, and no good either. He was in the South Seas some few
months back, and bore no very good character. So far as the low moral
standard of fellow-man goes, he is right enough. But he is not a
Christian; he is steeped in vanity. One of those who grin like a dog
and run about the city. What is Bithiah to him?"
"She is in love with him. Wait, don't speak. Since this sister
returned to Grimleigh he has followed her constantly with the low,
sensual passion which he miscalls love. The other night, after your
lecture, she left our Bethgamul to meet him. I found them together,
and she--she declared her love," cried Johnson, with sudden passion.
"She said it was her intention to marry him--to marry that son of
Belial, lost and iniquitous as he is. I took her away from his sinful
company, and brought her home into this very room."
"And then?" demanded Korah, with his eyes on the quivering white face.
"Then I reproved her for consorting with sinners. I told her of my
love."
"Oh!" said Korah, very dryly, "then it was jealousy, and not pure
Christianity, which urged you to save her?"
"Call it what you like, Brand. I loved her, and I told her of my love.
I asked her to be my wife. I promised to take her back to the islands,
that we might work together in the vineyard. She refused."
"She was right to refuse. How dare you mingle sacred and profane
love?"
"I am but a man," replied Johnson, sullenly, "and as a man I feel:
what harm was there in telling her that I wished to make her my wife?
I am a minister, a follower of Christ. Is it not better that she
should marry me, rather than Finland, the infidel?"
"You knew that I was about to take her back, brother; you might also
have guessed that Buli had other views for her future. He has. This
girl shall marry neither you nor Finland. But all you say in no way
explains her disappearance."
"I think it does, Brand. I told her that she must never see this
sailor again; and I believe that she has gone that she may free
herself from the prohibition."
"Do you think that she has gone away with Finland?"
"If she went with him, they are not together now. Early this morning I
saw him in the High Street, but I was not able to speak to him. It
struck me that Bithiah might have sought out Shackel."
"Shackel! Who is he?"
"Jacob Shackel," explained the minister, "the captain of the boat we
came home in. He is a godless, rum-drinking creature, but Tera--I mean
Bithiah--was drawn to him, and she promised to visit him in London."
"Where does he live, brother?"
"Somewhere near the docks, I believe. He gave Bithiah his address. Oh,
I am sure she has gone to him, so that he may take her back to Koiau
on his next voyage."
"Is he in London now?"
"Yes. Bithiah received a letter from him only last week. He will help
her to go away, as he has no love for us, Brother Korah."
"A mocker!" said Brand, sadly. "Bithiah cannot go away. She has no
money."
"She has the pearls; and they are worth three thousand pounds at
least."
"How do you know that she took them?"
"I am certain she took them," said Johnson, emphatically, "although I
have only circumstantial evidence to go on. Bithiah was the only
person who knew that they were locked in this drawer. Unfortunately, I
left my keys behind me when I went out visiting yesterday; so it was
easy for her to take them away."
Korah frowned, and combed his beard with his fingers. "So far as I can
judge from your story," said he, rebukingly, "this maiden has departed
to avoid your love."
"Say rather because I wished to keep her from Finland."
"Well, I will see Finland, brother. If he knows where Bithiah is, she
shall be brought back--but not to you. I myself will take her to Koiau
and deliver her to her father."
"You take no account of my feelings," said Johnson, bitterly.
"The Lord's work cannot be hindered for your earthly passion. If Buli
knew that you wished to take his child from him, he would not protect
our missionaries, and the good seed would be sown in barren ground.
But we can speak of these things later, Brother Johnson. The first
thing to do is to rescue the maiden from the consequences of her
foolish flight, I will question Finland. And you?"
"I am going up to London by the mid-day train to see Captain Shackel."
"Why not write or telegraph?" suggested Korah.
"I think it best to be on the spot myself, brother."
The missionary nodded and rose to leave the room. At the door he
paused and looked at Johnson keenly from under his shaggy brows.
"Brother," said he in a deep and solemn voice, "your feet are straying
from the narrow path. You love this maiden entrusted to your care, and
weary after the pearls."
"No, no, I do not. What do I want with the pearls?"
"Brother," Brand shook a menacing finger, "it is known that you owe
money. With those pearls you would pay the price of your follies."
"How do you know that I owe money?" asked Johnson, pale to the lips.
"Your handmaiden found a letter swept aside. It was from a tailor,
requesting from you payment of eighty pounds due to him. What have you
to do with the vanity of dyed garments from Bozrah?"
"My private affairs are my own, Mr. Brand," cried Johnson, with
spirit. "I allow no man to discuss them in my presence."
"Brother, brother, your feet go downwards to the pit. A wastrel, a
lover of vanities, how can you be the pastor of our Bethesda? Take
heed lest you stumble, for soon the eyes of all shall be open to your
iniquity."
As the missionary departed, he cast a look over his shoulder, and saw
the unhappy minister sink back in his chair with a look of pain. But
Brand, in his Pharisaical uprightness, had no pity for the man or for
his position. "As he has sown, so shall he reap," muttered he, and
dismissed the matter from his mind. He quite forgot that other text,
"Bear ye one another's burdens;" yet had he remembered, he would have
misapplied it, as he did all other sayings of the Christ whom he
professed to follow.
In the meantime he searched for Finland, and found him on the stone
jetty, smoking and jesting with some fishermen. When Brand appeared,
the young sailor turned his back on him, for he had no love for a
half-baked missionary. But Korah, who had the pertinacity of a
fanatic, was not to be put off so easily.
"John Finland, come with me. I have need of you."
"Need'll have to be your master then," sneered Jack. "I've more to do
than gavort round with psalm-singing critters."
Brand seized the young man's shoulders with a grasp like a pair of
pincers. "It is about Bithiah," he said, sourly.
"I don't know any girl of that name."
"She was Tera, when in the bonds of sin."
"Tera!" Jack led the missionary aside, and looked at him with a frown
on his handsome face. "And what may you have to say about Tera, Mister
Missionary?"
"Where is she, John Finland?"
"How should I know? I am not her keeper."
"So answered Cain when he destroyed his brother's body; but you, John
Finland, shall not evade my inquiry about the destruction of a human
soul. Tera, as you call her, is gone!--and you have taken her from the
fold."
"Tera gone!" Finland paled through his bronzed complexion. "Where has
she gone?"
"I ask that," said Brand, sternly. "Last night she left the fold at
six o'clock, and has not returned. She went to you, bearing precious
jewels."
"I never saw her, I swear! Last time I met her was the evening before
yesterday, when Johnson took her away. This comes of her being amongst
your psalm-singing lot. You have made away with Tera for the sake of
her pearls."
Finland was desperately in earnest, for he clenched his fists, spoke
hoarsely, and looked wicked. Brand was sufficiently a judge of human
nature to see that this speech was made in all honesty. Whosoever knew
where Tera had gone, Jack was not the man. He was as astonished at her
disappearance as Brand himself.
"I see you are ignorant of her whereabouts," he said, in a
disappointed tone. "We must seek elsewhere for Bithiah."
"Oh, I'll seek for her, I'll find her," said Jack, between his teeth;
"and if any harm has come to her, I'll wring that parson's neck! I
know him--he loves Tera, and I shouldn't be surprised if he has
carried her off. But I'll find her--if she is above ground."
"Above ground?" echoed Brand. "You--you don't think the girl is dead!"