"I have only one thing to live for, and that is the drink. I cannot
live without it. Oh, I implore you to let me have some spirits! You do
not, you cannot, know how I crave them, or in pity you would not
withhold them from me."
Mr Oliphant rose.
"Compose yourself, my poor friend," he said. "I dare not grant your
request; it might be your death. Farewell for the present. May God,
with whom all things are possible, help you through your present
trouble, and enable you in the end to conquer."
The wretched man called imploringly after him; but he closed the door,
and summoning Mrs Barnes, begged her to look well after him, and to see
that the nurse did all in her power to keep him calm, and to soothe him
to rest.
Two days after this he called again.
"How is your patient to-day, Mrs Barnes?" he said to the landlady, whom
he met on the landing.
"I cannot quite tell you, sir, for I have not been in to see him this
morning. He was so much better yesterday that the doctor said Mrs
Harper might go home. I went to look at him after he had taken his tea,
and I found old Jane Hicks with him. She had called to speak with Mrs
Harper, and the poor gentleman got her to go and borrow him a newspaper
which he wanted to see. I think I heard her come back twice since Mrs
Harper left; but perhaps he wanted something else. He said I had better
not wake him very early, as he thought he should sleep well; so I
haven't disturbed him yet."
A strange misgiving crept over the rector.
"Let us go in at once," he said.
They knocked at the bed-room door--there was no answer; they opened it
softly and went in. The sick man lay on his back, apparently asleep,
but when they came closer they saw that he was dead. A stain on the
sheet attracted Mr Oliphant's notice; he hastily turned it down,
uncovering the hands; in the right was a bottle--it had held spirits;
there was nothing in it now.
So died the miserable victim of drink; so died the once flourishing
professor; so died the once acceptable preacher.
Mr Oliphant knelt by the bed-side and poured out his heart to God in
prayer, entreating to be directed aright, and to be kept from ever in
any degree disgracing his profession as this unhappy man had done. He
was reminded that he was not alone by the sobs of the landlady, who had
fallen on her knees near him.
"Mrs Barnes," he said, on rising, "I have resolved, God helping me, to
be a total abstainer from this day forward. I have nothing to do with
the consciences of others, but for myself I feel that I shall be a
happier and a wiser man if I wholly abstain from those stimulants which
have power to make such a shipwreck as this."
She did not answer except by tears and a deep sigh; and he made his way
sadly and thoughtfully home.
From that day forward the drink was wholly banished from the rectory;
there was no difference of opinion between Bernard and his wife--they
would bring up their children without the ensnaring stimulant. Mr
Oliphant showed his colours at once; and he preached as well as
practised total abstinence, not in the place of the gospel, but as a
handmaid to the gospel. And Mrs Barnes was the first who joined him.
"I've long hated selling beer and spirits," she said. "I've seen the
misery that the drink has brought even into our little village. But I
didn't see my way nor my duty plain before, but I see them now. You've
set me the example, sir; and, please God, I'll follow. You know my poor
master left me the farm for my life, and I shall be happier there with a
little than I could be if I were to stop here and be making ever so
much."
She kept to her resolution. So the "Oldfield Arms" was closed, to the
astonishment of all the neighbours. What was the foolish woman about?
Had she lost her senses? Why, the inn was doing a capital business.
Sir Thomas Oldfield himself came down on purpose from Greymoor Park,
when he heard what she was going to do, and tried to talk and laugh her
out of it. But she was firm. The house was her own freehold, and she
would neither use it herself as an inn, nor let any one else rent it for
the same purpose. Of course, she was a fool in the eyes of the world,
but she did not care for that; and any one who saw her bright face as
she walked about her farm, would have perceived that, whether fool or
no, she had the enjoyment of peace in her heart.
But the "Oldfield Arms" was not long without a tenant. The rector took
it, as we have before said, and used it partly as shops, and the large
public room as a reading-room. And thus it was that the "Dun Cow"
remained without a rival as the dispenser of strong drink to the
inhabitants of Waterland.