PEOPLE WHO, "HAVING EYES, SEE NOT."
"Girls!" said Eurie, as she munched a doughnut, which she had brought
from the lunch-table with her, and lounged on a camp-chair, waiting for
the afternoon service, "do you know that Flossy taught a class in
Sunday-school this morning?"
"Taught a class!" repeated both Marion and Ruth in one voice, and with
about equal degrees of amazement.
"She did, as true as the world. That is, she must have been teaching.
The way of it was this: I went to see the little midgets exhibit
themselves, and when I came out of the tent and walked over toward the
stand, there sat Flossy on that old stump just back of the stand, and
before her were two of the roughest-looking boys that ever emerged from
the backwoods. They were ragged and dirty and wild; and as wicked little
imps as one could find, I am sure. Flossy was talking to them, and she
had a large Bible in her lap and one of those Lesson Leaves that they
flutter about here so much; and--well, altogether it was an amazing
sight! She was certainly talking to them with all her might, and they
were listening; and it is my opinion that she was trying to play
Sunday-school teacher, and give them a lesson. You know she is an
imitative little sheep, and always was."
"Nonsense!" Ruth said, and she seemed to speak more sharply than the
occasion warranted. "Just as if Flossy Shipley couldn't have anything to
say to two boys but what she found in the Bible! Little she knows what
is in it, for that matter. I suppose she wandered out that way because
she did not know what else to do with herself, and talked to the boys by
way of amusement. She has often amused herself in that way, I am sure."
"Ah, yes; but these specimens were rather too youthful and dirty for
that sort of amusement, and she had a Bible in her lap."
"What of that! Bibles are as common as leaves here. I found two lying on
the seat which I took this morning. People seem to think the art of
stealing has not found its way here."
"Flossy is changed," interrupted Marion. "The mouse is certainly
different from what _I_ ever saw her before; she seems so quiet and
self-sustained. I thought she was bored. Why, I expected her to hail a
trip to her dear Saratoga with absolute delight! She belongs to just the
class of people who would find the intellectual element here too strong
for her, and would have to flutter off in that direction in
self-defense. Ruthie, you have the temper of an angel not to fly out at
me for bringing in Saratoga every few minutes. It isn't with 'malice
aforethought,' I assure you. I forget your projected scheme whenever I
speak of it; but you must allow me to be astonished over Flossy's
refusal to go with you. Something has come over the mousie that is not
explainable by any of the laws of science with which I am acquainted."
"Don't trouble yourself to apologize, I beg. I hope you do not think I
am so foolish as to care anything about your hints as to Saratoga. Of
course I recognize my right in this world to be governed by my own
tastes and inclinations. I have enjoyed that privilege too long to be
disturbed by trifles." This from Ruth; but I shall have to admit that it
was very stiffly spoken, and if she had but known it, indicated that she
_did_ care a great deal. In truth she was very sore over her position
and her plans. She who had prided herself on her intellectuality bored
to the very point of leaving, and Flossy, who had been remarkable for
nothing but flutter and fashion, actually so interested that she could
not be coaxed into going away! What _was_ it that interested her? That
was the question which interested and puzzled Ruth. She studied over it
during all the time that Marion and Eurie were chatting about the
morning service.
Flossy _was_ different; there was no shutting one's eyes to that fact.
The truth was that she had suddenly seemed to have little in common
with her own party. She certainly said little to them; she made no
complaints as to inconveniences, even when they amounted to positive
annoyances with the rest of the party; she had given up afternoon
toilets altogether, and in fact the subject of dress seemed to be one
that had suddenly sunken into such insignificance as to cease to claim
her thoughts at all.
Grave changes these to be found in Flossy Shipley. Then, too, she had
taken to wandering away alone in the twilight; during the short spaces
between services she was nowhere to be found, but the Chautauqua bell
brought her back invariably in time to make ready for the next service.
"There is certainly more to the little mouse than I ever expected
before. If Chautauqua wakes _our_ wits as it has Flossy's we shall have
reason to bless the day that Dr. Vincent invented it." This Ruth heard
from Marion as she roused herself from her reverie to give attention to
what the girls were saying. They had got back to a discussion of Flossy
again. It was a subject that someway annoyed Ruth, so she dismissed it,
and made ready for the afternoon meeting, whither they all went.
To Marion the morning sermon had been an intellectual treat. She had a
way of listening to sermons that would have been very disheartening to
the preacher if he had known of it. She had learned how to divest
herself of all personality. The subject was one that had nothing to do
with her; the application of solemn truths were for the people around
her who believed in these things, but never for her; so she listened and
enjoyed, just as she enjoyed a book or a picture, just as if she had no
soul at all, nothing but an intellect.
It was very rare indeed that an arrow from any one's quiver touched her.
But there was one single sentence in Dr. Pierce's sermon that was
destined to haunt her. Said he: "When the blind man was questioned he
couldn't argue, he didn't try to; but he could stand up there before
them and say, 'Whereas I was blind, now I see; make the most of that.'
And wasn't it an unanswerable argument? There is no argument like it.
When men are honest and earnest and spiritual in Wall Street, it tells."
Now that was just the kind of sentence to delight Marion's heart. The
inconsistencies of Christians was one of her very strong points, she
saw them bristling out everywhere, and she looked about her with a
satisfied smile on her face that so large a company of them were getting
so sharp a thrust as this.
And suddenly there flashed across her brain an utterly new thought.
"Whereas I was _blind_, now I see." "Perhaps," she said to
herself--"_perhaps_ I am blind. What if that should be the only reason
why these things are not to me as they are to others. How do I know,
after all, but there may really be a spiritual blindness, and that it
may be holding me? How do I know but that the reason some of these poor
ignorant people whom I meet are so firm in their belief of Christ and
heaven is because they have had just this experience?
"'Whereas I _was_ blind, now I see!' How can I possibly tell but that
this may be the case? I wonder what I _do_ think anyway? Do I really
think that all these men gathered here are either deceived or deceivers?
One or the other they must be--and either position is too silly to
sustain--or else I must be blind. If there should be such a thing as
seeing, and I discover it too late! If there is a too late to this
thing, and I do not find it out simply because I am blind, what then?
The sun shines, of course, though I dare say an entirely blind man
doesn't believe it. Doesn't have an idea anyway what it is--how can he?"
Over and over did she revolve this sentence, and look at it from every
attainable standpoint. No use to try to shut it off, back it came. All
the clatter with which she had amused herself during the interval
between meetings had not banished it. No sooner was she seated under
those trees waiting for the afternoon service than the thought presented
itself for her to consider.
"I wonder if there are different degrees of moral blindness?" she said,
suddenly. "People who can see just enough to enable them to keep
constantly going the wrong way, so that they are no better off than the
blind, except that they admit that there is such a thing as seeing. The
thing is possible, I suppose."
Ruth turned and looked at her wonderingly.
"What _are_ you talking about?" she asked at last.
"I'm moralizing," Marion said, laughing. "You yourself suggested that
train of thought. I was wondering which of us was right in our notions,
you or I; and, for all practical purposes, what difference it made."
"You are too high up for me to follow. I haven't the least idea what you
mean."
"Why, I tell you I was contrasting our conditions. Let me see if I have
a right view of them. Don't you honestly think that there is a God, and
a heaven, and a hell, and that to escape the one place and secure the
other certain efforts upon your part are necessary?"
"Why, of course I think so. I have never made any pretense of
disbelieving all these things. I think it is foolish to do so."
"Exactly. Now for one question more: Have you made the effort that you
believe to be necessary?"
"Have you been hired as an exhorter?" Ruth said, trying to laugh. "Why,
no, I can not say that I have."
"Well, then, suppose you and I should both die to-night. _I_ don't
believe any of these things; you do, but you don't practice on your
belief. Then, according to your own view, you will be lost forever;
and, according to that same view, so shall I. Now, practically, what
difference is there between us? So if it is really blindness, why may
not one be totally blind as well as to have a little sight that keeps
one all the time in the wrong way?"
"I dare say we are quite as well off," Ruth said, composedly; "only I
think there is this point of difference between us. I think your
position is silly. I don't see how any one who has studied Paley and
Butler, and in fact any of the sciences, can think so foolish a thing as
you pretend to. One doesn't like to be foolish, even if one doesn't
happen to be a Christian."
"Foolish?" Marion repeated, and there was a fine glow on her face.
"Don't you go and talk anything so wild as that! If there is any class
of people in this world who profess to be simpletons, and act up to
their professions, it is you people who believe _everything_ and _do_
nothing. Now just look at the thing for a minute. Suppose you say,
'There is a precipice over there, and every whiff of wind blows us
nearer to it; we will surely go over if we sit here; we ought to go up
on that hill; I know that is a safe place,' and yet you sit perfectly
still. And suppose I say, 'I don't believe there is any such thing as a
precipice, and I believe this is just as safe a place as there is
anywhere,' and _I_ sit still. Now I should like to know which of us was
acting the sillier?"
"You would be," Ruth said, stoutly, "if you persisted in disbelieving
what could be proved to you so clearly that no person with common sense
would think of denying it."
"Humph!" said Marion, settling back; "in that case I think there would
be very little chance for each to accuse the other of folly; only I
confess to you just this, Ruth Erskine, if you could _prove_ to me that
there was a precipice over there, and that we were being carried toward
it, and that the hill was safe, I know in my very soul that I should get
up and go to that hill. I would not be such a fool as to delay, I know I
wouldn't."
"You are frank," Ruth said, and her face was flushed. "I am sure I don't
see why you don't make the attempt and decide for yourself, if you feel
this thing so deeply. _I_ think there ought to be a prayer-meeting on
your account. If I knew Dr. Vincent I would try to have this thing
turned into a regular camp-meeting time, then you would doubtless get
all the help you need."
Marion laughed good-humoredly.
"Don't waste your sarcasm on me," she said, cheerily; "keep your weapons
for more impressible subjects. You know I am not in the least afraid of
any such arguments. I have been talking downright truth and common
sense, and you know it, and are hit; that is what makes you sarcastic.
Did you know that was at the bottom of most sarcasm, my dear?"
"Do hush, please. These people before us are trying hard to hear what
the speaker is saying."
This was Ruth's answer; but she had had her sermon; and of all the
preachers at Chautauqua, the one who had preached to _her_ was Marion
Wilbur, the infidel school-teacher! It was her use of Dr. Pierce's arrow
that had thrust Ruth. She gave herself up to the thought of it all
during that wonderful afternoon meeting. Very little did she hear of the
speeches, save now and then a sentence more vivid than the rest; her
brain was busy with new thoughts. _Was_ it all so very queer? Did it
look to others than Marion a strange way to live? Did she actually
believe these things for which she had been contending? If she did, was
she in very deed an idiot? It actually began to look as though she might
be. She was not wild like Eurie, nor intense and emotional, like Marion;
she was still and cold, and, in her way, slow; given to weighing
thoughts, and acting calmly from decisions rather than from impulse. It
struck her oddly enough now that, having so stoutly defended the
cardinal doctrines of Christian faith, she should have no weapons except
sarcasm with which to meet a bold appeal to her inconsistency.
"When I get home from Saratoga," she said, at last, turning uneasily in
her seat, annoyed at the persistency of her thoughts, "I really mean to
look into this thing. I am not sure but a sense of propriety should lead
one to make a profession of religion. It is, as Marion says, strange to
believe as we do and not indicate it by our professions. I am not sure
but the right thing for me to do would be to unite with the church.
There is certainly some ground for the thrusts that Marion has been
giving. My position must seem inconsistent to her. I certainly believe
these things. What harm in my saying so to everybody? Rather, is it not
the right thing to do? I will unite with the church from a sense of
duty, not because my feelings happen to be wrought upon by some strong
excitement. I wonder just what is required of people when they join the
church? A sense of their own dependence on Christ for salvation I
suppose. I certainly feel that. I am not an unbeliever in any sense of
the word. I respect Christian people, and always did. Mother used to be
a church-member; I suppose she would be now if she were not an invalid.
Most of the married ladies in our set are church-members. I don't see
why it isn't quite as proper for young ladies to be. I certainly mean to
give some attention to this matter just as soon as the season is over at
Saratoga. In the meantime I wonder when there is a train I can get, and
if I couldn't telegraph to mother to send my trunks on and have them
there when I arrived."