Get thee an ape, and trudge the land
The leader of a juggling band.--SCOTT
'Master Howen, Master Howen, you must not go up the best stairs.'
'But I will go up the best stairs. I don't like the nasty, dark, back
stairs!'
'Let me take off your boots then, sir; Mrs. Stubbs said she could not
have such dirty marks--'
'I don't care for Mrs. Stubbs! I won't take my boots off! Get off--I'll
kick you if you touch them! I shall go where I like! I'm a gentleman.
I shall ave hall the Olt for my very hown!'
'Master Howen! Oh my!'
For Flibbertigibbet's teeth were in the crack orphan's neck, and the foot
that she had not seized kicking like a vicious colt, when a large hand
seized him by the collar, and lifted him in mid-air; and the crack
orphan, looking up as though the oft-invoked 'ugly man' of her infancy
had really come to bear off naughty children, beheld for a moment,
propped against the door-post, the tall figure and bearded head hitherto
only seen on the sofa.
The next instant the child had been swung into the study, and the
apparition, stumbling with one hand and foot to the couch, said
breathlessly to the frightened girl, 'I am sorry for my little boy's
shameful behaviour! Leave him here. Owen, stay.'
The child was indeed standing, as if powerless to move or even to cry,
stunned by his flight in the air, and dismayed at the terrific presence
in which he was for the first time left alone. Completely roused and
excited, the elder Owen sat upright, speaking not loud, but in tones
forcible from vehement feeling.
'Owen, you boast of being a gentleman! Do you know what we are? We are
beggars! I can neither work for myself nor for you. We live on charity.
That girl earns her bread--we do not! We are beggars! Who told you
otherwise?'
Instead of an answer, he only evoked a passion of frightened tears, so
piteous, that he spoke more gently, and stretched out his hand; but his
son shook his frock at him in terror, and retreated out of reach,
backwards into a corner, replying to his calls and assurances with
violent sobs, and broken entreaties to go back to 'granma.'
At last, in despair, Owen lowered himself to the floor, and made the
whole length of his person available; but the child, in the extremity of
terror at the giant crawling after him, shrieked wildly and made a rush
at the door, but was caught and at once drawn within the grasp of the
sweeping arm.
All was still. He was gathered up to the broad breast; the hairy cheek
was gently pressed against his wet one. It was a great powerful,
encircling caress that held him. There was a strange thrill in this
contact between the father and son--a new sensation of intense loving
pity in the one, a great but soothing awe in the other, as struggling and
crying no more, he clung ever closer and closer, and drew the arm tighter
round him.
'My poor little fellow!' And never had there been such sweetness in
those deep full tones.
The boy responded with both arms round his neck, and face laid on his
shoulder. Poor child! it was the affection that his little heart had
hungered for ever since he had left his grandmother, and which he had
inspired in no one.
A few more seconds, and he was sitting on the floor, resting against his
father, listening without alarm to his question--'Now, Owen, what were
you saying?'
'I'll never do it again, pa--never!'
'No, never be disobedient, nor fight with girls. But what were you
saying about the Holt?'
'I shall live here--I shall have it for my own.'
'Who told you so?'
'Granma.'
'Grandmamma knows nothing about it.'
'Shan't I, then?'
'Never! Listen, Owen. This is Miss Charlecote's house as long as she
lives--I trust till long after you are a man. It will be Mr. Randolf's
afterwards, and neither you nor I have anything to do with it.'
The two great black eyes looked up in inquiring, disappointed
intelligence. Then he said, in a satisfied tone--
'We ain't beggars--we don't carry rabbit-skins and lucifers!'
'We do nothing so useful or profitable,' sighed poor Owen, striving to
pull himself up by the table, but desisting on finding that it was more
likely to overbalance than to be a support. 'My poor boy, you will have
to work for me!' and he sadly stroked down the light hair.
'Shall I?' said the little fellow. 'May I have some white mice? I'll
bring you all the halfpence, pa!'
'Bring me a footstool, first of all. There--at this rate I shall be able
to hop about on one leg, and be a more taking spectacle,' said Owen, as,
dragging himself up by the force of hand and arm, he resettled himself on
his couch, as much pleased as amazed at his first personal act of
locomotion after seven months, and at the discovery of recovered strength
in the sound limbs. Although, with the reserve of convalescence, he kept
his exploit secret, his spirits visibly rose; and whenever he was left
alone, or only with his little boy, he repeated his experiments,
launching himself from one piece of furniture to another; and in spite of
the continued deadness of the left side, feeling life, vigour, and hope
returning on him.
His morbid shyness of his child had given way to genuine affection, and
Owen soon found that he liked to be left to the society of
Flibbertigibbet, or as he called him for short, Giblets, exacting in
return the title of father, instead of the terrible 'pa.' Little Owen
thought this a preparation for the itinerant white-mouse exhibition,
which he was permitted to believe was only delayed till the daily
gymnastic exertions should have resulted in the use of crutches, and till
he could safely pronounce the names of the future mice, Hannibal and
Annabella, and other traps for aspirates! Nay, his father was going to
set up an exhibition of his own, as it appeared; for after a vast amount
of meditation, he begged for pen and paper, ruler and compasses, drew,
wrote, and figured, and finally took to cardboard and penknife, begging
the aid of Miss Charlecote, greatly to the distress of the little boy,
who had thought the whole affair private and confidential, and looked
forward to a secret departure early in the morning, with crutches, mice,
and model.
Miss Charlecote did her best with needle and gum, but could not
understand; and between her fears of trying Owen's patience and letting
him overstrain his brain, was so much distressed that he gave it up; but
it preyed on him, till one day Phoebe came in, and he could not help
explaining it to her, and claiming her assistance, as he saw her ready
comprehension. For two afternoons she came and worked under him; and
between card, wire, gum, and watch-spring, such a beauteous little model
locomotive engine and train were produced, that Owen archly assured her
that 'she would be a fortune in herself to a rising engineer,' and Honor
was struck by the sudden crimson evoked by the compliment.
Little Owen thought their fortune made, and was rather disappointed at
the delay, when his father, confirming his idea that their livelihood
might depend on the model, insisted that it should be carried out in
brass and wood, and caused his chair to be frequently wheeled down to the
blacksmith's and carpenter's, whose comprehension so much more resembled
their lady's than that of Miss Fulmort, and who made such intolerable
blunders, that he bestowed on them more vituperation than, in their
opinion, 'he had any call to;' and looked in a passion of despair at the
numb, nerveless fingers, once his dexterous servants.
Still his spirits were immensely improved, since resolution, hope, and
independence had returned. His mental faculties had recovered their
force, and with the removal of the disease, the healthfulness and
elasticity of his twenty-five years were beginning to compensate for the
lost powers of his limbs. As he accomplished more, he grew more
enterprising and less disinclined to show off his recovered powers. He
first alarmed, then delighted Honor; begged for crutches, and made such
good use of them, that Dr. Martin held out fair hopes of progress, though
advising a course of rubbing and sea-air at Brighton.
Perhaps Honor had never been happier than during these weeks of
improvement, with her boy so completely her own, and more than she had
ever known him; his dejection lessening, his health returning, his
playfulness brilliant, his filial fondness most engaging. She did not
know the fixed resolution that actuated him, and revived the entire man!
She did not know what was kept in reserve till confidence in his
efficiency should dispose her to listen favourably. Meantime the present
was so delightful to her that she trembled and watched lest she should be
relapsing into the old idolatry. The test would be whether she would put
Owen above or below a clear duty.
The audit of farm-accounts before going to Brighton was as unsatisfactory
as the last. Though not beyond her own powers of unravelling, they made
it clear that Brooks was superannuated. It was piteous to see the old
man seated in the study, racking his brains to recollect the transaction
with Farmer Hodnet about seed-wheat and working oxen; to explain for what
the three extra labourers had been put on, and to discover his own
meaning in charging twice over for the repairs of Joe Littledale's
cottage; angered and overset by his mistress's gentle cross-examination,
and enraged into absolute disrespect when that old object of dislike, Mr.
Sandbrook, looked over the books, and muttered suggestions under his
moustache.
'Poor old man!' both exclaimed, as he left the room, and Honor sighed
deeply over this failure of the last of the supports left her by Humfrey.
'I must pension him off,' she said. 'I hope it will not hurt his
feelings much!' and then she turned away to her old-fashioned bureau, and
applied herself to her entries in her farming-books, while Owen sat in
his chair, dreamily caressing his beard, and revolving the proposition
that had long been in his mind.
At last the tall, red book was shut, the pen wiped, the bureau locked,
and Honor came back to her place by the table, and resumed her
needlework. Still there was silence, till she began: 'This settles it!
I have been thinking about it ever since you have been so much better.
Owen, what should you think of managing the property for me?'
He only answered by a quick interrogative glance.
'You see,' she continued, 'by the help of Brooks, who knew his master's
ways, I have pottered on, to my own wonderment; but Brooks is past work,
my downhill-time is coming, high farming has outrun us both, and I know
that we are not doing as Humfrey would wish by his inheritance. Now I
believe that nothing could be of greater use to me, the people, or the
place, than that you should be in charge. We could put some deputy under
your control, and contrive for your getting about the fields. I would
give you so much a year, so that your boy's education would be your own
doing, and we should be _so_ comfortable.'
Owen leant back, much moved, smiled and said, 'Thanks, dear Honor; you
are much too good to us.'
'Think about it, and tell me what would be right. Brooks has 100 pounds
a year, but you will be worth much more, for you will develop all the
resources, you know.'
'Best Honor, Sweetest Honey,' said Owen, hastily, the tears rising to his
eyes, 'I cannot bear to frustrate such kind plans, nor seem more
ungrateful than I have been already. I will not live on you for nothing
longer than I can help; but indeed, this must not be.'
'Not?'
'No. There are many reasons against it. In the first place, I know
nothing of farming.'
'You would soon learn.'
'And vex your dear old spirit with steam-ploughs and haymaking machines.'
She smiled, as if from him she could endure even steam.
'Next, such an administration would be highly distasteful here. My
overweening airs as a boy have not been forgotten, and I have always been
looked on as an interloper. Depend on it, poor old Brooks fancies the
muddle in his accounts was a suggestion of my malice! Imagine the
feelings of Hiltonbury, when I, his supplanter, begin to tighten the
reins.'
'If it be so, it can be got over,' said Honor, a little aghast.
'If it ought to be attempted,' said Owen; 'but you have not heard my
personal grounds for refusing your kindness. All your goodness and kind
teaching cannot prevent the undesirableness of letting my child grow up
here, in a half-and-half position, engendering domineering airs and
unreasonable expectations. You know how, in spite of your care and
warnings, it worked on me, though I had more advantages than that poor
little man. Dear Honor, it is not you, but myself that I blame. You did
your utmost to disabuse me, and it is only the belief that my absurd
folly is in human nature that makes me thus ungracious.'
'But,' said Honora, murmuring, as if in shame, 'you know you, and
therefore your child, must be my especial charge, and always stand first
with me.'
'First in your affection, dearest Honey,' he said, fondly; 'I trust I
have been in that place these twenty years; I'll never give that up; but
if I get as well as I hope to do, I mean to be no charge on any one.'
'You cannot return to your profession?'
'My riding and surveying days are over, but there's plenty of work in me
still; and I see my way to a connection that will find me in enough of
writing, calculating, and drawing, to keep myself and Owen, and I expect
to make something of my invention too, when I am settled in London.'
'In London?'
'Yes; the poor old woman in Whittington-street is breaking--pining for
her grandchild, I believe, and losing her lodgers, from not being able to
make them comfortable; and without what she had for the child, she cannot
keep an effective servant. I think of going to help her out.'
'That woman?'
'Well, I do owe her a duty! I robbed her of her own child, and it is
cruel to deprive her of mine when she has had all the trouble of his
babyhood. Money would not do the thing, even if I had it. I have
brought it on myself, and it is the only atonement in my power; so I mean
to occupy two or three of her rooms, work there, and let her have the
satisfaction of "doing for me." When you are in town, I shall hop into
Woolstone-lane. You will give me holidays here, won't you? And whenever
you want me, let me be your son? To that you know I reserve my right,'
and he bent towards her affectionately.
'It is very right--very noble,' she was faltering forth. He turned
quickly, the tears, ready to fall, springing quite forth.
'Honor! you have not been able to say that since I was a child! Do not
spoil it. If this be right, leave it so.'
'Only one thing, Owen, are you sufficiently considering your son's good
in taking him there, out of the way of a good education.'
'A working education is the good one for him,' said Owen, 'not the being
sent at the cost of others--not even covertly at yours, Sweet Honey--to
an expensive school. He is a working man's son, and must so feel
himself. I mean to face my own penalties in him, and if I see him in a
grade inferior to what was mine by birth, I shall know that though I
brought it on him, it is more for his real good and happiness to be a man
of the people, than a poor half-acknowledged gentleman. So much for my
Americanisms, Honor!'
'But the dissent--the cant!'
'Not so much cant as real piety obtrusively expressed. Poor old thing!
I have no fear but that little Giblets will go my way! he worships me,
and I shall not leave his _h's_ nor more important matters to her mercy.
He is nearly big enough for the day school Mr. Parsons is setting on
foot. It is a great consideration that the place is in the St. Matthew's
district!'
'Well, Owen, I cannot but see that it may be your rightest course; I hope
you may find yourself equal to it,' said Honor, struggling with a fresh
sense of desertion, though with admiration and esteem returning, such as
were well worth the disappointment.
'If not,' said Owen, smiling, to hide deeper feelings, 'I reserve to you
the pleasure of maintaining me, nursing me, or what not! If my carcase
be good for nothing, I hereby make it over to you. And now, Honor, I
have not been without thought for you. I can tell you of a better
successor for Brooks.'
'Well!' she said, almost crossly.
'Humfrey Charlecote Randolf,' said Owen, slowly, giving full effect to
the two Christian names.
Honor started, gasped, and snatching at the first that occurred of her
objections, exclaimed, 'But, my dear, he is as much an engineer as
yourself.'
'From necessity, not choice. He farmed till last August.'
'Canadian farming! Besides, what nonsense to offer a young man, with all
the world before him, to be bailiff of this little place.'
'It would, were he only to stand in Brooks's position; but if he were the
acknowledged heir, as he ought to be--yes, I know I am saying a dreadful
thing--but, my good Queen Elizabeth, your Grace would be far wiser to
accept Jamie at once than to keep your subjects fretting over your
partialities. He will be a worthy Humfrey Charlecote if you catch and
pin him down young. He will be worthy any way, but if you let him go
levelling and roaming over the world for the best half of his life, this
same Holt will lose its charms for him and his heirs for ever.'
'But--but how can you tell that he would be caught and pinned?'
'There is a very sufficient pin at the Underwood.'
'My dear Owen, impossible!'
'Mind, no one has told me in so many words, but Mervyn Fulmort gave me
such an examination on Randolf as men used to do when matrimony is in the
wind; and since that, he inferred the engagement, when he came to me in
no end of a rage, because my backwoodsman had conscientious scruples
against partaking in their concoction of evil spirits.'
'Do you mean that Mervyn wants to employ him?'
'To take him into partnership, on the consideration of a certain thirty
thousand. You may judge whence that was to come! And he, like Robert,
declined to live by murdering bodies and souls. I am afraid Mervyn has
been persecuting them ever since.'
'Ever since when?'
'This last conversation was some three weeks ago. I suspect the
principal parties settled it on that snowy Twelfth-day--'
'But which of them, Owen?'
'Which?' exclaimed Owen, laughing. 'The goggle or the squint?'
'For shame, Owen. But I cannot believe that Phoebe would not have told
me!'
'Having a sister like Lady Bannerman may hinder confidences to friends.'
'Now, Owen, are you sure?'
'As sure as I was that it was a moonstruck man that slept in my room in
Woolstone-lane. I knew that Cynthia's darts had been as effective as
though he had been a son of Niobe!'
'I don't believe it yet,' cried Honor; 'an honourable man--a sensible
girl! Such a wild thing!'
'Ah! Queen Elizabeth! Queen Elizabeth! shut up an honourable man and a
sensible girl in a cedar parlour every evening for ten days, and then
talk of wild things! Have you forgotten what it is to be under
twenty-five?'
'I hate Queen Elizabeth,' said Honor, somewhat tartly.
He muttered something of an apology, and resumed his book. She worked on
in silence, then looking up said, rather as if rejoicing in a valid
objection, 'How am I to know that this man is first in the succession? I
am not suspecting him of imposition. I believe that, as you say, his
mother was a Charlecote, but how do I know that she had not half-a-dozen
brothers. There is no obligation on me to leave the place to any one,
but this youth ought not to come before others.'
'That is soon answered,' said Owen. 'The runaway, your grandfather's
brother, led a wild, Leather-Stocking life, till he was getting on in
years, then married, luckily not a squaw, and died at the end of the
first year, leaving one daughter, who married Major Randolf, and had this
only son.'
'The same relation to me as Humfrey! Impossible! And pray how do you
prove this?'
'I got Currie to make notes for me which I can get at in my room,' said
Owen. 'You can set your lawyer to write to the places, and satisfy
yourself without letting him know anything about it.'
'Has he any expectations?'
'I imagine not. I think he has never found out that our relationship is
not on the Charlecote side.'
'Then it is the more--impertinent, I really must say, in him to pay his
addresses to Phoebe, if he have done so.'
'I can't agree with you. What was her father but an old distiller, who
made his fortune and married an heiress. You sophisticated old Honey, to
expect him to be dazzled with her fortune, and look at her from a
respectful distance! I thought you believed that "a man's a man for a'
that," and would esteem the bold spirit of the man of progress.'
'Progress, indeed!' said Honor, ironically.
'Listen, Honor,' said Owen, 'you had better accuse me of this
fortune-hunting which offends you. I have only obeyed Fate, and so will
you. From the moment I met him, he seemed as one I had known of old. It
was Charlecotism, of course; and his signature filled me with
presentiment. Nay, though the fire and the swamp have become mere
hearsay to me now, I still retain the recollection of the impression
throughout my illness that he was to be all that I might have been. His
straightforward good sense and manly innocence brought Phoebe before me,
and Currie tells me that I had fits of hatred to him as my supplanter,
necessary as his care was to me.'
Honor just stopped herself from exclaiming, 'Never!' and changed it into,
'My own dear, generous boy!'
'You forget that I thought it was all over with me! The first sensations
I distinctly remember were as I lay on my bed at Montreal, one Sunday
evening, and saw him sitting in the window, his profile clearly cut
against the light, and retracing all those old silhouettes over the
mantelshelf. Then I remembered that it had been no sick delusion, but
truth and verity, that he was the missing Charlecote! And feeling far
more like death than life, I was glad that you should have some one to
lean on of your own sort; for, Honor, it was his Bible that he was
reading!--one that he had saved out of the fire. I thought it was a
lucid interval allowed me for the sake of giving you a better son and
support than I had been, and looked forward to your being happy with him.
As soon as I could get Currie alone, I told him how it stood, and made
him take notes of the evidence of his identity, and promise to make you
understand it if I were dead or childish. My best hope was to see him
accepted as my expiation; but when I got back, and you wouldn't have him
at any price, and I found myself living and lifelike, and had seen her
again--'
'Her? Phoebe? My poor boy, you do not mean--'
'I do mean that I was a greater fool than you even took me for,' said
Owen, with rising colour. 'First and last, that pure child's face and
honest, plain words had an effect on me which nothing else had. The
other affair was a mere fever by comparison, and half against my will.'
'Owen!'
'Yes, it was. When I was with that poor thing, her fervour carried me
along; and as to the marriage, it was out of shortsighted dread of the
uproar that would have followed if I had not done it. Either she would
have drowned herself, or her mother would have prosecuted me for breach
of promise, or she would have proclaimed all to Lucy or Mr. Prendergast.
I hadn't courage for either; though, Honor, I had nearly told you the day
I went to Ireland, when I felt myself done for.'
'You were married then?'
'Half-an-hour!' said Owen, with something of a smile, and a deep sigh.
'If I had spoken, it would have saved a life! but I could not bear to
lose my place with you, nor to see that sweet face turned from me.'
'You must have known that it would come out in time, Owen. I never could
understand your concealment.'
'I hardly can,' said Owen, 'except that one shuffles off unpleasant
subjects! I did fancy I could stave it off till Oxford was over, and I
was free of the men there; but that notion might have been a mere excuse
to myself for putting off the evil day. I was too much in debt, too, for
an open rupture with you; and as to her, I can truly say that my sole
shadow of an excuse is that I was too young and selfish to understand
what I was inflicting!' He passed his hand over his face, and groaned,
as he added--'Well, that is over now; and at last I can bear to look at
her child!' Then recurring in haste to the former subject--'You were
asking about Phoebe! Yes, when I saw the fresh face ennobled but as
simple as ever, the dog in the manger seemed to me a reasonable beast!
Randolf's admiration was a bitter pill. If I were to be nailed here for
ever, I could not well spare the moonbeams from my prison! But that's
over now--it was a diseased fancy! I have got my boy now, and can move
about; and when I get into harness, and am in the way of seeing people,
and maturing my invention, I shall never think of it again.'
'Ah! I am afraid that is all I can wish for you!'
'Don't wish it so pitifully, then,' said Owen, smiling. 'After having
had no hope of her for five years, and being the poor object I am, this
is no such great blow; and I am come to the mood of benevolence in which
I really desire nothing so much as to see them happy.'
'I will think about it,' said Honor.
And though she was bewildered and disappointed, the interview had, on the
whole, made her happier, by restoring the power of admiring as much as
she loved. Yet it was hard to be required to sacrifice the interests of
one whom she adored, her darling, who might need help so much, to do
justice to a comparative stranger; and the more noble and worthy Owen
showed himself, the less willing was she to decide on committing herself
to his unconscious rival. Still, did the test of idolatry lie here?
She perceived how light-hearted this conversation had rendered Owen, as
though he had thrown off a weight that had long been oppressing him. He
was overflowing with fun and drollery throughout the journey; and though
still needing a good deal of assistance at all changes of carriage,
showed positive boyish glee in every feat he could accomplish for
himself; and instead of shyly shrinking from the observation and casual
help of fellow-travellers, gave ready smiles and thanks.
Exhilarated instead of wearied by the journey, he was full of enjoyment
of the lodgings, the window, and the view; a new spring of youthfulness
seemed to have come back to him, and his animation and enterprise carried
Honor along with him. Assuredly she had never known more thorough
present pleasure than in his mirthful, affectionate talk, and in the
sight of his daily progress towards recovery; and a still greater
happiness was in store for her. On the second day, he begged to
accompany her to the week-day service at the neighbouring church,
previously sending in a request for the offering of the thanks of Owen
Charteris Sandbrook for preservation in great danger, and recovery from
severe illness.
'Dearest,' she said, 'were I to recount my causes of thanksgiving, I
should not soon have done! This is best of all.'
'Not fully _best_ yet, is it?' said Owen, looking up to her with eyes
like those of his childhood.
'No; but it soon will be.'
'Not yet,' said Owen; 'I must think first; perhaps write or talk to
Robert Fulmort. I feel as if I _could_ now.'
'You long for it?'
'Yes, as I never even _thought_ I did,' said Owen, with much emotion.
'It was strange, Honor, as soon as I came home to the old places, how the
old feelings, that had been set aside so long, came back again. I would
have given the world to recover them in Canada, but could only envy
Randolf, till they woke up again of themselves at the sight of the study,
and the big Bible we used to read with you.'
'Yet you never spoke.'
'No; I _could_ not till I had proved to myself that there was no
time-serving in them, if you must know the truth!' said Owen, colouring a
little. 'Besides, having been told my wits would go, how did I know but
that they were a symptom of my second childhood?'
'How could any one have been so cruel as to utter such a horrible
presage?'
'One overhears and understands more than people imagine, when one has
nothing to do but to lie on the broad of one's back and count the flies,'
said Owen. 'So, when I was convinced that my machine was as good as
ever, but only would not stand application, I put off the profession,
just to be sure what I should think of it when I could _think_.'
'Well!' was all Honor could say, gazing through glad tears.
'And now, Honor dear,' said he, with a smile, 'I don't know how it is.
I've tried experiments on my brains. I have gone through half-a-dozen
tough calculations. I have read over a Greek play, and made out a
problem or two in mechanics, without being the worse for it; but,
somehow, I can't for the life of me hark back to the opinions that had
such power over me at Oxford. I can't even recollect the half of them.
It is as if that hemlock spruce had battered them out of my head.'
'Even like as a dream when one awaketh.'
'Something like it! Why, even _unknownst_ to you, Sweet Honey, I got at
one or two of the books I used to swear by, and somehow I could not see
the force of what they advanced. There's a futility about it all,
compared with the substance.'
'Before, you did not believe with your heart, so your understanding
failed to be convinced.'
'Partly so,' said Owen, thoughtfully. 'The fact is, that religion is so
much proved to the individual by personal experience and actual
sensation, that those who reason from without are on different ground,
and the _avocato del diavolo_ has often apparently the advantage, because
the other party's security is that witness in his own breast which cannot
be brought to light.'
'Only apparently.'
'Really, sometimes, with the lookers-on who have accepted the doctrines
without feeling them. They, having no experience, feel the failure of
evidence, where the tangible ends.'
'Do you mean to say that this was the case with yourself, my dear? I
should have thought, if ever child were good--'
'So did I,' said Owen, smiling. 'I simulated the motions to myself and
every one else: and there was a grain of reality, after all; but neither
you nor I ever knew how much was mere imitation and personal influence.
When I outgrew implicit faith in _you_, I am afraid my higher faith went
with it--first through recklessness, then through questioning. After
believing more than enough, the transition is easy to doubting what is
worthy of credit at all.'
'From superstition to rationalism.'
'Yes; overdoing articles of faith and observances, while the mind and
conscience are young and tender, brings a dangerous reaction when liberty
and independent reflection begin.'
'But, Owen, I may have overdone observances, yet I did not teach
superstitions,' said Honor.
'Not consciously,' said Owen. 'You meant to teach me dogmatically only
what you absolutely believed yourself. But you did not know how
boundless is a child's readiness to accept what comes as from a spiritual
authority, or you would have drawn the line more strongly between
doctrine and opinion, fact and allegory, the true and the edifying.'
'In effect, I treated you as the Romish Church began by doing to the
populace.'
'Exactly so. Like the mediaeval populace, I took legend for fact; and
like the modern populace, doubted of the whole together, instead of
sifting. There is my confession, Honor dear. I know you are happier for
hearing it in full; but remember, my errors are not chargeable upon you.
If I had ever been true towards myself or you, and acted out what I
thought I felt, I should have had the personal experience that would have
protected the truth when the pretty superstructure began to pass away.'
'What you have undertaken now is an acting out!'
'I hope it is. Therefore it is the first time that I have ever trusted
myself to be in earnest. And after all, Honor, though it is a terrible
past to look back on, it is so very pleasant to be coming _home_, and to
realize mercy and pardon, and hopes of doing better, that I can't feel
half the broken-down sorrow that perhaps ought to be mine. It won't stay
with me, when I have you before me.'
Honor could not be uneasy. She was far too glad at heart for that. The
repentance was proving itself true by its fruits, and who could be
anxious because the gladness of forgiveness overpowered the pain of
contrition?
Her inordinate affection had made her blind and credulous where her
favourite was concerned, so as to lead to his seeming ruin, yet when the
idol throne was overturned, she had learnt to find sufficiency in her
Maker, and to do offices of love without excess. Then after her time of
loneliness, the very darling of her heart had been restored, when it was
safe for her to have him once more; but so changed that he himself
guarded against any recurrence to the old exclusive worship.