BOTH APOLOGIZE
Haldane's hopes were realized beyond his anticipations, for the doctor's
old mare--at first surprised and restless from the wounds made by the
sharp spines--speedily became indignant and fractious, and at last, half
frantic with pain, started on a gallop down the street, setting all the
town agog with excitement and alarm.
With grim satisfaction Haldane saw the doctor's immaculate silk hat fly
into the mud, his wig, blown comically awry, fall over his eyes, and his
spectacles joggle down until they sat astride the tip of a rather
prominent nose.
Having had his revenge he at once relented, and rushing out in advance
of some others who were coming to the rescue, he caught the poor beast,
and stopped her so suddenly that the doctor was nearly precipitated over
the dashboard. Then, pretending to examine the harness to see that
nothing was broken, he quietly removed the cause of irritation, and the
naturally sedate beast at once became far more composed than her master,
for, as a bystander remarked, the venerable doctor was "dreadfully shuck
up." It was quite in keeping with Haldane's disingenuous nature to
accept the old gentleman's profuse thanks for the rescue. The impulse to
carry his mischief still further was at once acted upon, and he offered
to see the doctor safely home.
His services were eagerly accepted, for the poor man was much too
unnerved to take the reins again, though, had he known it, the mare
would now have gone to the parsonage quietly, and of her own accord.
The doctor was gradually righted up and composed. His wig, which had
covered his left eye, was arranged decorously in its proper place, and
the gold-rimmed spectacles pressed back so that the good man could beam
mildly and gratefully upon his supposed preserver. The clerical hat,
however, had lost its character beyond recovery, and though its owner
was obliged to wear it home, it must be confessed that it did not at all
comport with the doctor's dignity and calling.
Young Haldane took the reins with a great show of solicitude and
vigilance, appearing to dread another display of viciousness from the
mare, that was now most sheeplike in her docility; and thus, with his
confiding victim, he jogged along through the crowded street, the object
of general approval and outspoken commendation.
"My dear young friend," began the doctor fervently, "I feel that you
have already repaid me amply for my labors in your behalf."
"Thank you," said Haldane demurely; "I think we are getting even."
"This has been a very mysterious affair," continued the doctor musingly;
"surely 'a horse is a vain thing for safety.' One is almost tempted to
believe that demoniacal possession is not wholly a thing of the past.
Indeed, I could not think of anything else while Dolly was acting so
viciously and unaccountably."
"I agree with you," responded Haldane gravely, "she certainly did come
down the street like the devil."
The doctor was a little shocked at this putting of his thoughts into
plain English, for it sounded somewhat profanely. But he was in no mood
to find fault with his companion, and they got on very well together to
the end of their brief journey. The young scapegrace was glad, indeed,
that it was brief, for his self-control was fast leaving him, and having
bowed a rather abrupt farewell to the doctor, he was not long in
reaching one of his haunts, from which during the evening, and quite
late into the night, came repeated peals of laughter, that grew more
boisterous and discordant as that synonyme of mental and moral anarchy,
the "spirit of wine," gained the mastery.
The tidings of her son's exploit in rescuing the doctor were not long in
reaching Mrs. Haldane, and she felt that the good seed sown that day had
borne immediate fruit. She longed to fold him in her arms and commend
his courage, while she poured out thanksgiving that he himself had
escaped uninjured, which immunity, she believed, must have resulted from
the goodness and piety of the deed. But when he at last appeared with
step so unsteady and utterance so thick that even she could not mistake
the cause, she was bewildered and bitterly disappointed by the apparent
contradictoriness of his action; and when he, too far gone for
dissimulation, described and acted out in pantomime the doctor's plight
and appearance, she became half hysterical from her desire to laugh, to
cry, and to give vent to her kindling indignation.
This anger was raised almost to the point of white heat on the morrow.
The cause of the old mare's behavior, and the interview which had led to
the practical joke, soon became an open secret, and while it convulsed
the town with laughter, it also gave the impression that young Haldane
was in a "bad way."
It was not long before Mrs. Haldane received a note from an indignant
fellow church-member, in which, with some disagreeable comment, her
son's conduct was plainly stated. She was also informed that the doctor
had become aware of the rude jest of which he had been the subject. Mrs.
Haldane was almost furious; but her son grew sullen and obstinate as the
storm which he had raised increased. The only thing he would say as an
apology or excuse amounted to this:
"What else could he expect from one who he so emphatically asserted was
a sinner?"
The mother wrote at once to the doctor, and was profuse in her apologies
and regrets, but was obliged to admit to him that her son was beyond her
control.
When the doctor first learned the truth his equanimity was almost as
greatly disturbed as it had been on the previous day, and his first
emotions were obviously those of wrath. But a little thought brought him
to a better mood.
He was naturally deficient in tact, and his long habit of dwelling upon
abstract and systematic truth had diminished his power of observantly
and intuitively gauging the character of the one with whom he was
dealing. He therefore often failed wofully in adaptation, and his
sermons occasionally went off into rarefied realms of moral space, where
nothing human existed. But his heart was true and warm, and his Master's
cause of far more consequence to him than his own dignity.
As he considered the matter maturely he came to the conclusion that
there must have been something wrong on both sides. If he had presented
the truth properly the young man could not have acted so improperly.
After recalling the whole affair, he became satisfied that he had relied
far too much on his own strong logic, and it had seemed to him that it
must convince. He had forgotten for the moment that those who would do
good should be very humble, and that, in a certain sense, they must take
the hand of God, and place it upon the one whom they would save.
Thus the honest old clergyman tried to search out the error and weakness
which had led to such a lamentable failure in his efforts; and when at
last Mrs. Haldane's note of sorrowful apology and motherly distress
reached him, his anger was not only gone, but his heart was full of
commiseration for both herself and her son. He at once sat down, and
wrote her a kind and consolatory letter, in which he charged her
hereafter to trust less to the "arm of flesh" and more to the "power of
God." He also inclosed a note to the young man, which his mother handed
to him with a darkly reproachful glance. He opened it with a
contemptuous frown, expecting to find within only indignant upbraidings;
but his face changed rapidly as he read the following words:
"MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND--I hardly know which of us should apologize. I
now perceive and frankly admit that there was wrong on my side. I
could not have approached you and spoken to you in the right spirit,
for if I had, what followed could not have occurred. I fear there
was a self-sufficiency in my words and mariner yesterday, which made
you conscious of Dr. Marks only, and you had no scruples in dealing
with Dr. Marks as you did. If my words and bearing had brought you
face to face with my august yet merciful Master, you would have
respected Him, and also me, His servant. I confess that I was very
angry this morning, for I am human. But now I am more concerned lest
I have prejudiced you against Him by whom alone we all are saved.
Yours faithfully,
"ZEBULON MARKS."
The moment Haldane finished reading the note he left the room, and his
mother heard him at the hat-rack in the hall, preparing to go out. She,
supposing that he was again about to seek some of his evil haunts,
remonstrated sharply; but, without paying the slightest attention to her
words, he departed, and within less than half an hour rang the bell at
the parsonage.
Dr. Marks could scarcely believe his eyes as the young man was shown
into his study, but he welcomed him as cordially as though nothing
unpleasant had occurred between them.
After a moment's hesitation and embarrassment Haldane began:
"When I read your note this evening I had not the slightest doubt that I
was the one to apologize, and I sincerely ask your pardon."
The old gentleman's eyes grew moist, and he blew his nose in a rather
unusual manner. But he said promptly:
"Thank you, my young friend, thank you. I appreciate this. But no matter
about me. How about my Master? won't you become reconciled to Him?"
"I suppose by that you mean, won't you be a Christian?"
"That is just what I mean and most desire. I should be willing to risk
broken bones any day to accomplish that."
Haldane smiled, shook his head, and after a moment said:
"I must confess that I have not the slightest wish to become a
Christian."
The old gentleman's eager and interested expression changed instantly to
one of the deepest sorrow and commiseration. At the same time he
appeared bewildered and perplexed, but murmured, more in soliloquy than
as an address to the young man:
"O Ephraim! how shall I give thee up?"
Haldane was touched by the venerable man's tone and manner, more than he
would have thought possible, and, feeling that he could not trust
himself any longer, determined to make his escape as soon as
practicable. But as he rose to take his leave he said, a little
impulsively:
"I feel sure, sir, that if you had spoken and looked yesterday as you do
this evening I would not have--I would not have--"
"I understand, my young friend; I now feel sure that I was more to blame
than yourself, and your part is already forgiven and forgotten. I am now
only solicitous about _you_."
"You are very kind to feel so after what has happened, and I will say
this much--If I ever do wish to become a Christian, there is no one
living to whom I will come for counsel more quickly than yourself.
Good-night, sir."
"Give me your hand before you go."
It was a strong, warm, lingering grasp that the old man gave, and in the
dark days of temptation that followed, Haldane often felt that it had a
helping and sustaining influence.
"I wish I could hold on to you," said the doctor huskily; "I wish I
could lead you by loving force into the paths of pleasantness and peace.
But what I can't do, God can. Good-by, and God bless you."
Haldane fled rather precipitously, for he felt that he was becoming
constrained by a loving violence that was as mysterious as it was
powerful. Before he had passed through the main street of the town,
however, a reckless companion placed an arm in his, and led him to one
of their haunts, where he drank deeper than usual, that he might get rid
of the compunctions which the recent interview had occasioned.
His mother was almost in despair when he returned. He had, indeed,
become to her a terrible and perplexing problem. As she considered the
legitimate results of her own weak indulgence she would sigh again and
again:
"Never was there a darker and more mysterious providence. I feel that I
can neither understand it nor submit."
A sense of helplessness in dealing with this stubborn and perverse will
overwhelmed her, and, while feeling that something must be done, she was
at a loss what to do. Her spiritual adviser having failed to meet the
case, she next summoned her legal counsellor, who managed her property.
He was a man of few words, and an adept in worldly wisdom.
"Your son should have employment," he said;
"'Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands,'
"etc., is a sound maxim, if not first-class poetry. If Mr. Arnot, the
husband of your old friend, is willing to take him, you cannot do better
than place your son in his charge, for he is one of the most methodical
and successful business men of my acquaintance."
Mrs. Arnot, in response to her friend's letter, induced her husband to
make a position in his counting-house for young Haldane, who, from a
natural desire to see more of the world, entered into the arrangement
very willingly.