THE NEW HOPE
Nothing more than was absolutely necessary appeared in the newspapers
about Springfield's death. In a letter which he wrote before taking
his life he explained his action in a few characteristic words.
'Life's not worth living, that's why I'm going to die. I do not wish
any question asked of any one why I intend to solve the "great secret,"
very suddenly. I'm tired of the whole show. That's enough explanation
for any one. I am quite sane, and I hope no fool set of jurymen will
bring in a verdict about my taking my life while in an unsound mind. I
am reaping as I've sown, and I dare say if I had been a pattern young
man things might have ended differently. But there it is. The game,
as far as I am concerned, is not worth the candle. Besides, the game's
played out. I am grateful to those of my friends who have been kind to
me. The personal letters I am writing must be regarded as private and
confidential. By that I mean they must not be read to satisfy the
vulgar curiosity of the gaping crowd, and no questions must be asked of
their recipients. Their contents are meant only for those to whom they
are addressed.'
According to the newspaper reports, no awkward questions were asked of
Sir Thomas Bolivick, or any members of the party with whom he had dined
the night before he died, and the twelve jurymen who brought in a
verdict of suicide said nothing about an 'unsound mind.'
Mention was made, however, of a sealed letter, placed by the side of
the one I have copied. This letter bore no address, and nothing was
written on the envelope but the words: 'This package must _not_ be
opened within a week of my burial.'
Comparing this instruction with the 'open letter,' I judged that the
package contained more than one letter, but no further information was
given.
At the beginning of August two letters arrived by the same post. One
was from Lorna Bolivick, and the other was from my friend. The latter
was simply a command to get a few days off, and to come and see him.
He wanted a chat badly, he said, and if I could not get away, he would
come to me, but surely I was not so important that I couldn't be spared
for a week-end, if not more. He also insisted that I must send him a
wire at once.
On opening Lorna's letter, I found practically the same request. The
doctor had forbidden her resuming her nursing work for some months, she
said, and had suggested that she should go to the seaside. But this
she had refused to do, as she hated leaving her home. Besides, her
brother Tom might come home on leave almost any day, and she wanted to
be there to meet him.
'But you said you promised dad to pay us another visit as soon as you
could,' her letter concluded, 'and I am writing to remind you of your
promise. You told me you had some leave still due to you after your
last visit, so why not come at once? The sooner the better.'
She gave no special reason for asking me to come, but I read into her
appeal a desire to tell me something, and perhaps to ask my advice. I
therefore had a chat with my C.O., with the result that I started to
see my friend the same day.
On arriving at the station I found him on the platform awaiting me.
'Now this is sensible,' he cried with a laugh. 'This is something like
dispatch. Come on, I have a motor outside. I suppose you will trust
me to drive you.'
'You look fit, anyhow,' I said.
'Fit as a fiddle,' he replied. 'I go back to the front in four days.'
He looked years younger than when I had first seen him. The old
wistful look in his eyes had almost entirely gone, while the
parchment-like skin had become almost as smooth and ruddy as that of a
boy.
'Oh, it has been glorious,' he said. 'I've taken the little mother to
all sorts of places, and dad declares she looks twenty years younger.
More than once we've been taken for lovers.'
'And your memory, Jack?'
'Sound as a bell. Wonderful, isn't it? Sometimes I'm almost glad I
went through it all. After--after--years of darkness and loneliness,
to emerge suddenly into the light! To have a mother, and a father,
and--a home!'
'And you and your father get on well together?'
'Yes, in a way. But I have a lot to tell you about that. Here we are!'
I shall not attempt to describe Jack Carbis's home, nor the welcome I
received. Had I been their son, Lord and Lady Carbis could not have
received me with greater joy.
It was not until late that Jack and I were able to be alone, but at
length when the others had gone to bed we found ourselves in a kind of
snuggery which had been especially set apart for his own personal use.
'It's great, having you here,' he cried, as he threw himself into an
arm-chair; 'great to feel alive, and to remember things. Have you
heard from Bolivick?'
'Yes, Sir Thomas sent me a line, also a newspaper containing a report
of the inquest. Have you?'
He shook his head. 'We wrote immediately after we left, and Lady
Bolivick has written to mother, but--nothing more.'
'Of course you got particulars about Springfield. It seems he left a
sealed packet. Did it contain a letter for you?'
'No, nothing. I often wonder who he wrote to. Do you know anything?'
'Nothing. But I propose going to Bolivick to-morrow; perhaps they'll
tell me.'
'To-morrow! I say, old man, have you heard from her?'
I nodded. 'No, her letter contained nothing that would interest you,'
I continued as I noted the look of inquiry in his eyes. 'Why don't you
go with me? It would seem quite natural, seeing you are off to the
front so soon.'
He hesitated a second, and then shook his head. 'No, Luscombe,' he
said, 'she'll send for me if she wants me.'
'That's not the way to win a girl. How can she send for you?'
'I seem to have lost confidence since my memory came back,' he replied.
'When I told her I loved her, although I didn't seem to have the ghost
of a chance, I felt confident, serene. Now I'm sure of nothing.'
'Nothing?' I queried. 'Do you mean to say that--that your faith in God
and that kind of thing is gone?'
'No, no,' he replied quickly. 'That remains. It's the foundation of
everything, everything. But God doesn't do things in the way we
expect, and when we expect. After all, our life here is only a
fragment, and God has plenty of time. He's never in a hurry. It's all
right, old man. She'll be mine some time. If not in this world, in
another.'
'If I loved a girl, I'd move heaven and earth to get her in this life.'
'Yes, don't fear that I'm not going to do my bit; but I've had a little
time for thinking, and I've had to adjust myself to--to my new
conditions.'
'With what results? How do things strike you now?'
'What things? The war?'
'Yes, that among others. Have you the same views you had? After our
peregrinations through London, you were not optimistic, I remember.
You seemed to regard England as in a bad way. You said we were not fit
for victory. What are your views now?'
He was silent a few seconds before replying.
'I expect I was a bit of a fool,' he said presently. 'I'm afraid my
outlook was narrow and silly. You see, I had no experience to go on.
I had no standards.'
'No standards?' I repeated. 'You mean, then, that you've given all
your fine sentiments the go-by?'
'And if I had?' he said with a smile. 'Should you be sorry or glad?'
I was silent. As I have stated I had not agreed with him, and yet I
should have been sorry had he become like many another of his class.
'I see,' and he laughed gaily. 'No, old man, I've given nothing the
go-by. No doubt, I overstated things a bit. No wonder. I saw things
only in the light of the present. But in the main I was right.'
'Then what do you mean by saying that your outlook was narrow and
silly?'
'I mean this. I looked on life without being able to compare it with
what it was before the war. When I went with you through London, and
saw the things I saw, when I saw the basest passions pandered to, when
I saw vice walking openly, and not ashamed, I said, "God is keeping
victory from us because we are not fit for it." In a sense I believe
it still. Admiral Beatty was right. "Just so long as England remains
in a state of religious indifference, just so long will the war
continue. When the nation, the Empire comes to God with humility and
with prayer on her lips, then we can begin to count the days towards
the end." And that's right. The nation itself, by its lack of faith
in God, by its materialism, by its want of prayer, by its greed, and
its sin, has kept victory from coming. I tell you the great need of
the age is prophets, men of God, calling us to God.'
'And do you stand by what you said about drink?'
'To every word. That phase of our national life has been and is
horrible. While vested interests in this devilish thing remain
paramount, we are partly paralysed. You see, it is the parent of a
great part of the crime of the country. Oh, yes, I stand by that. All
the same I was wrong.'
'Why wrong?'
'Because I did not look deep enough. Because I was not able to see the
tremendous change that has been wrought.'
'I don't understand,' I said.
'It's this way. You, because the change which has come over the land
has come slowly and subtly, have hardly been able to see it. But when,
a few weeks ago, my memory came back to me, I realized a sort of shock.
I saw how tremendous the change was, and is. A few years ago I was
home for a long leave, and I went a good deal into society. What did I
see? I saw that the women of England were in the main a mass of
useless, purposeless butterflies. I saw that the great mass of the
young men of our class were mere empty-headed, worthless parasites.
The whole country was given over to money getting and pleasure seeking.
I didn't realize it then; but I do now. On every hand they were
craving for unnatural excitement, and doubtless there was a great
danger of our race becoming decadent. But these last few weeks I've
realized the difference. Why, our people have been glorious, simply
glorious! See what an earnest tone pervades all life. Think of what
the women of all classes have done, and are doing! Think of their
change of outlook! Instead of being mere bridge-playing, gambling,
purposeless things, finding their pleasures in all sorts of silly fads
and foolishness, they've given themselves to service--loyal, noble
service. The young fellows who filled up their time by being mere
club-loungers, empty-headed society dudes, whose chief talk was women,
the latest thing in neckties, or their handicap at golf, are now doing
useful work, or fighting for the best in life. As for the rank and
file, life has a new meaning to them, and they've become heroes.
'Mind you, we've still a long way to go; but we are on the right road.
God is speaking out of the whirlwind and the fire. Religion may not be
expressing itself in Church-going, but it is expressing itself in
deeper, grander ways. I failed to see it; but I see it now. Oh, man,
if England will only be true to the call of God, we can become the
wonder and glory of the world!'
'Then you believe we are ready for victory?'
'I do not say that; but we are getting ready. God has been putting us
through the refining fires, and I can see such a democracy emerging out
of this world upheaval as was never known before.'
'And yet the war does not appear to be coming to an raid,' I urged.
'Think of Russia. Russia is a wild chaos, the victim of every passing
fancy. Anarchy is triumphant, and the great army which should be a
tower of strength is a rope of sand. If Russia had been true, we
should have been----'
'Don't be in a hurry, my friend. God never is. Things will brighten
in that direction. I don't say the war will be ended on the
battlefield. Sometimes I think it won't. God does things in big ways.
Surely the history of the last few months has taught us that. With Him
nothing is impossible. People say that Kaiserdom stands more firmly
than ever. What of that? The Kaiser may become more autocratic than
ever, but his doom is written for all that. What is happening to his
invincible legions? They will never save him. We are going to have a
new world, my friend, and the pomp of the Kaiser will become a thing of
yesterday.'
He was silent a few seconds, and then went on.
'There is something else, too. Russia has failed us, failed us because
of corruption, and injustice. But God does not fail. No sooner did
Russia yield, than America spoke. Her voice was the voice of the new
Democracy. America's action is one of the greatest things in the
world. Without thought of gain and realizing her sacrifice she has
answered the call of God, and thrown herself into this struggle for the
liberty and justice of the world. Had our cause not been righteous
America would not have done this, but because it is God's Cause she
could not resist the call to give her all. Yes, my friend,
'The mills of God grind slowly,
But they grind exceeding small.'