A REFUSAL.
The conversation was here interrupted by the return of Thucydides
Thorn, who came hastily into the veranda. It needed a good deal to
disturb the calm self-assurance which his round, heavy countenance
habitually showed, but he now looked rather pale and excited.
“What is the matter, Thud?” cried Io. “Has the rajah’s wild elephant
being playing on you any prank?”
“I have an idea that we are going to have a rising of the blacks,” said
Thud, in a very serious tone. “Passing through the bazaar, I heard a
furious rebel haranguing the mob, who listened open-mouthed while he
preached rebellion.”
“How do you know that he preached rebellion?” asked Oscar.
“I could tell it by his flashing eyes and his eager speech. Crowds
gathered round him, fascinated by his wild gestures. Take my word for
it, that man was inciting the niggers to cut all our throats.”
“What sort of a man was the orator in appearance?” asked Lawrence,
looking rather interested than alarmed.
“He is not young――about fifty or sixty years old,” was the reply; “he
was just a common native.”
“A very _uncommon_ native,” said Mr. Lawrence, “if you have seen, as
I have reason to suppose, the Karen apostle, Ko Thah Byu. I have been
expecting him to pass through Moulmein, and am heartily glad that he
has come. I shall feel my house honoured if that Karen evangelist sleep
to-night under my roof.”
“He does not look as if he were much accustomed to sleep under roofs,”
observed Thud. “I daresay that the beggar has seldom had anything
better than a tree over his head.”
“You judge correctly,” said Mr. Lawrence. “Ko Thah Byu was originally
but a village boy, and he was afterwards the servant of Mr. Hough, and
then of a native Christian.”
“I daresay that he was a bad servant,” observed Thud, who was rather
annoyed at his dangerous rebel and incendiary proving to be nothing but
a harmless preacher.
“Again you are right, Mr. Thorn,” said the chaplain: “the now devoted
Christian was, before his conversion, a very bad servant and a very
bad man. But when Ko Thah Byu became a believer in Christ, he also
gradually became an altered character. If there ever were in this dark
land a devoted and successful evangelist, that evangelist is Ko Thah
Byu.”
“I daresay that he is successful in taking in missionaries,” remarked
Thud; “they will find him out to be a hypocrite in the end.”
Io saw that both the gentlemen looked annoyed at the idle remark, and
she made a diversion in the conversation.
“Thud, you know less of missions and converts than of natural history,”
she playfully observed. “Tell us the result of your scientific
researches to-day. Had the wild elephant a trunk, or a snout according
to your new theory?”
Thud looked sulky but not disconcerted. “_This_ one had a proboscis,”
he reluctantly owned; “but exceptions prove the rule.”
“Oh, own yourself beaten for once!” cried Io.
Thud never owned himself beaten, but to avoid being further pressed
he availed himself of the usual resource of the vanquished, and beat
a retreat.
“I wish, Mr. Lawrence,” said Oscar, “that you would take that boy a
little in hand. He does not seem to care for his sister’s advice and
instruction.”
“But no doubt the youth receives religious teaching from yourself,”
observed Mr. Lawrence.
“No; I never speak on spiritual subjects,” was the grave, almost stern
reply, and Oscar rose from his seat as he made it.
The chaplain looked greatly surprised. “I have heard of your taking a
lead in religious exercises,” he said.
“I never do so now,” answered Coldstream in the same constrained tone,
looking on the ground as he spoke.
“I hope――I do hope, that you will kindly make an exception in my favour
to-morrow,” said the young clergyman. “I have a little Saturday meeting;
it is but poorly attended, but I trust that a blessing may be granted
at last. If you would kindly conduct it to-morrow, some might come
to hear you who would not cross the road to listen to me. I own that
I speak selfishly,” continued Mr. Lawrence, a slight flush rising to
his cheek. “I have long looked forward to the pleasure and privilege
of spending one day with Ko Thah Byu――of accompanying him as he goes
preaching in the villages around, and listening to the untutored
eloquence which has such power with the natives. To-morrow may be my
single opportunity of gratifying this long-cherished wish, and the
only obstacle to my going is this little Saturday meeting. If you would
consent to take it――” Lawrence turned towards Mrs. Coldstream with the
intention of asking her to further his request, and was almost startled
by seeing her gaze of intense anxiety, as with her eyes riveted on her
husband she waited to hear his reply.
“I cannot――I will not speak on the subject of religion,” said Oscar,
still looking on the ground.
“But, dear friend――let me call you so,” pleaded the chaplain――“I have
heard of the power of your addresses. In refusing to speak for the
Master may you not be burying a talent, may you not be hiding a light?”
Then Oscar raised his eyes to meet the gaze of Mark Lawrence. The
gloomy expression in them was such as the chaplain could never forget,
or the bitterness of the tone in which Coldstream replied to his
friend’s remonstrance: “Would you think it meet to take an unrinsed
glass from a publican’s counter and use it as a chalice?” Then, without
waiting for a reply, Oscar turned on his heel and strode out of the
veranda into the garden beyond.
“Is the poor fellow insane?” thought the chaplain.
“O Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Lawrence, do not let this make you misjudge my
husband!” exclaimed Io in bitter distress; “he is one of the best――yes,
one of the most religious of men!” The poor lady was unconsciously
wringing her hands as she spoke.
“I would not willingly misjudge any one,” said the chaplain gently,
“especially one for whom I already feel respect and regard.”
“You cannot respect him too much,” said the wife; “I cannot think
why my husband should speak as he did.” Io could not bear to tell the
chaplain what she had concealed from the doctor, of that which was the
bitterest trial which she had had to endure in her married life. Oscar
had refused to conduct even family prayer, though he daily read the
Bible to Thud and herself. Coldstream was willing that his wife should
pray; he never restrained her devotions either by look or word; but he
seemed to be kept back by some invisible and incomprehensible barrier
from audibly joining in them himself.
There was a painful pause for several minutes, which was broken by Mr.
Lawrence. The chaplain had risen to take his leave, but was arrested by
a thought which had just occurred to his mind.
“Perhaps it is Mr. Coldstream’s very great conscientiousness, his
shrinking from anything approaching to hypocrisy, that makes him act
in this way,” suggested the clergyman.
“You think so?” asked Io anxiously, like one catching at a straw of
hope. “All seems to me so dark.”
“Perhaps I may throw a little gleam of light on the cause of Mr.
Coldstream’s depression,” said the pitying chaplain. “I believe that
early this year he returned to England in the _Argus_, in which ship
Mr. Pogson was his fellow-passenger. May I ask whether your husband has
spoken much regarding that voyage?”
“He has never said a word to me about it,” was Io’s reply; “I never
even heard the name of Mr. Pogson.”
“I am not surprised at that,” observed Mr. Lawrence; “there would
be little in common between Mr. Coldstream and Pogson. The young man
holds a small Government appointment, and this year, like your husband,
paid a short visit to England, from whence he returned a few weeks
ago. Pogson told me of another passenger in the _Argus_, a Mr. Mace,
whom I happen to know. Mr. Mace is a clever man, but unhappily quite
a freethinker. Pogson informed me that Mr. Mace used often to discuss
religious questions with Mr. Coldstream.”
“My husband would never be overcome in argument by a freethinker,”
exclaimed the young wife.
“Probably not,” was the chaplain’s reply; “but infidels fight with
poisoned weapons, and even a scratch, so to speak, on a mind so
delicately conscientious as that of your husband would be likely to
fester and cause acute pain.”
“It would indeed,” said Io.
“Had Mr. Coldstream any doubt, however slight, on a point regarding
Christian doctrine, he might make it a point of honour, even of
conscience, not to make much profession of piety until that doubt
should quite disappear.”
“Oh, thank you, bless you for that word!” exclaimed Io. “Then our
trouble must be short-lived, for every doubt will――must disappear
in the light of the truth, and my husband will again serve God with
gladness, and come into His presence with thanksgiving, as in the happy
old times. If any evil has been put into Oscar’s mind, you will by
God’s help remove it; you will speak to my husband on religion, on the
evidences of our holy faith.”
“I shall try to do so,” said the chaplain, “but perhaps not just at
once. A little time may―― But here comes your husband again,” continued
Mark Lawrence, looking towards a tall figure that was approaching
through the deepening twilight.
Oscar Coldstream went up straight to his guest. “Mr. Lawrence,” he
said, “I must ask your forgiveness for having left you so abruptly.”
The gentlemen exchanged a kindly grasp of the hand, and then Oscar went
on, “You touched a sensitive point; may I request you kindly never to
broach that subject again?”
Mark Lawrence made no promise, but after shaking Mrs. Coldstream’s hand,
silently took his leave.