A LIFE SORROW AND ITS REMEDY
“I’m not going to pile on the agony, but will just give you the main
facts.
“He was curate at one of the Oxford churches, after taking a good
degree in his special department. Well, he cycles over to Chipping
Norton in the summer term, rescues a lady from the grip of a loafing
tramp, gets invited to the house, a country rectory a mile or so from
the town. She thinks him a paladin, of course; he thinks her an angel
equally of course. They get head over ears; the old parson hesitates
at first but consents. So he is married in the village church to May
Lilian Carnforth. I do soberly believe that no two human beings ever so
loved each other since marriage was instituted.”
“Five minutes gone,” said the Professor dryly.
“They went on their honeymoon to Barmouth. They had not been there long
before she began to lose her admiration of him, though he kept his
admiration of her. At last they had a row; I don’t know what it was
about, some utterly trivial matter probably. She declared she would
not go an excursion up the river to Dolgelly with him as had been
planned. He said in anger she might go by herself, knowing that this
was practically impossible. She flounced out of the house and went
across the road to her cousin, Miss Amy Vereker, who was staying in
the place. Radcliffe saw them go off together. Miss Vereker was expert
at the oar. He thought it best to let them go by themselves. It was an
ideal day for a river or sea trip. He waved his hand to his wife as she
turned the corner, but she gave no response. To cut the ghastly story
short, the boat was upset near Penmaen Pool. Amy Vereker just narrowly
saved her life, May Lilian Radcliffe was drowned. No one will ever know
exactly what happened; it was held at the inquest that the boat grated
upon a rock in mid-stream. Radcliffe came home alone, and resumed his
work. He is said to have preached better, but I only heard him once.
His subject was ‘The Wilderness,’ and though I am a graceless scamp,
and likely to remain so, I had a jolly old cry when I came out.”
The Professor stood silent. At last he said, “We will go back to the
house; I will speak to Radcliffe.”
The party were still assembled in the parlour inspecting and admiring
the model machine. Honest Tom Jackson, who had been the Professor’s
faithful servant for years, was just saying, “It looks so nice that
it’s a pity we can’t get into it and start at once. It’s a deal of
polishing I’ll be after when I gets into the real one. I’ll keep it as
bright as a new pin.”
“Mr. Radcliffe,” said the Professor, “I shall be pleased to offer you
a place in our expedition. You will be a most welcome addition to our
party if you choose to cast in your lot with us.”
“I have often wished to die,” said Radcliffe, whose eyes shone with
a strange lustre, “but you have offered me something nobler. But I
am a minister and I do not know how far my beliefs may be in accord
with yours. I am also a man crushed to the very ground with a sorrow
that nothing can ever eradicate but the Mansions of the Blest, which
even the ancient Egyptians believed in, and to which I wish to go some
day for a special purpose. Ought such a man as I to travel with those
whose energies are fresh and unimpaired? But if we ever reach Venus
and find intelligent life upon its surface you must give me a free
hand, provided I do not compromise your safety. I place myself at your
disposal, gentlemen.”
“My dear chap, just come along and see what there is to be seen,” said
Abercromby cheerfully. “I shall often think of you, and hope that the
bigger sun of Venus may shine upon your dream and your work. Don’t go
on to Mercury, mind!”
The whole party laughed, but upon the face of Radcliffe there was a
grave and troubled look of enquiry. “You are coming of course,” he said.
“No room--given up my berth in the asteroid to you, old fellow.”
“Then I decline,” said Radcliffe promptly.
“Beg pardon, gentlemen,” broke in Jackson, “but why couldn’t we put on
an extra bit to the machine, and have the two? One will dance to the
natives up there, and the tother will preach to ’em.”
“I shall do it,” said the Professor; “it will cost very little more.
They shall both go. As to the matter of beliefs, I don’t choose to let
every bystander know my mind. Mr. Radcliffe’s may be old-fashioned, but
they have contrived to carry him through what might have wrecked other
men. A new world will probably put a number of things on a sounder
footing, though it may knock others on the head. Carysfort and myself
have not studied theology, we are simply thinkers with open minds.
If there are any people in Venus to teach, teach them all you can,
and learn from them all you can. You are a scholar and a philosophic
dreamer as well as being an old-fashioned believer. I knew a parson
very like yourself, he was the straitest of the strait, but when I
got him out of the pulpit for a little private talk, I never met so
daring a speculatist in my life. But he kept his speculations as
speculations, and he gave his people only his convictions. But I am
on the sermonising warpath myself, and will pull up. You are welcome
amongst us, and are now one of us.”
“I’m a man of few words,” said the engineer, “but I’m right glad to
have both you and Mr. Abercromby. We could not afford to dispense with
either of you.”
“From the depths of my grateful heart I thank you,” said Radcliffe in a
broken voice.
“Well, it is about time we had some tea,” suggested Abercromby; “all
the rest of the business is settled _nem. con._ I always find it safe
to abbreviate _my_ Latin.”