CONSOLATION.
As soon as Io quitted the prison cell of her husband, Oscar gave
vent to the anguish which he had hardly been able to restrain in her
presence. Leaving the loathed food untouched, the unhappy criminal
paced up and down the narrow space in which he was confined, with hands
tightly clasped and raised towards heaven with a gesture of something
like despair.
“The brand of Cain is upon me!” he groaned; “and like Cain, I am driven
forth a vagabond on the earth. Like him, I cry, ‘My punishment is
greater than I can bear!’ Is it sinful to pray that this misery may not
be a prolonged one? Is it sinful to implore to be soon released from
the worse than Egyptian bondage to which my mad wickedness has brought
me, and to which I am dragging down with me my sweet, innocent wife?”
The unexpected sound of footsteps in the corridor, then that of the
key grating in the lock of his cell, startled the prisoner, for no one
usually came at that hour. The heavy, nail-studded door slowly unclosed,
the jailer entered to introduce a visitor, and then himself retired.
“Lawrence!”――“My friend!” The brief greetings were exchanged, and the
chaplain and the prisoner embraced, as brothers might embrace who were
never again to meet in this world.
For some minutes no other word was spoken. Oscar was the first to break
the silence.
“How came you to see me here――in my prison?” he asked.
“I could stay away no longer,” was the chaplain’s reply. “I felt that
I must see my friend once more.”
“You call me _friend_,” said Oscar gloomily.
“Friend――yes, brother!” cried Lawrence.
“You forget _why_ I am here,” said the criminal.
“No, I do not forget that you are here because you had the courage
to confess your deed; because you preferred punishment and disgrace
to honour and ease; because _you dared to pluck out the right eye_.
Coldstream, do you repent having made a confession?”
“Never!” was the emphatic reply. “I would rather suffer any earthly
misery than the terrible separation from God which I once had to
endure.”
“Then indeed you are my brother in Christ,” said the chaplain. “Are we
not both sinners redeemed by grace?”
Lawrence’s coming was to Oscar as a draught of cool and sweet
refreshing water to one perishing of thirst. The friends sat down
together, and long was the conversation which ensued. Coldstream spoke
more freely to Lawrence of his grief than he had done to Io, for he was
less afraid of inflicting pain. Lawrence gave heart-felt sympathy, and
he gave consolation besides. The chaplain spoke of the tears of a David
and the penitence of a Peter. He touched on the story of the woman
deeply sunken in sin, who was offered freely the water of life by Him
who was to die to procure it. Was not that woman to become a missionary
to her own people? Was not David to prepare for the building of the
Temple? Was not Peter to live an apostle and die a martyr?
“God may have some work for you to do even in the place of your
exile,” said Lawrence. “The Lord asks not, ‘Hast thou ever sinned
greatly against Me?’ but He says, ‘Lovest thou Me?’ You can give the
same answer as did the penitent Peter.”
“I can, I can,” murmured Coldstream under his breath.
“Then, though severed from country and friends, you have a Home and a
Father on high.”
After a few minutes of silent thought, Oscar said, in a hesitating tone,
“Do you think that it would be sinful presumption in me to partake once
more of the Supper of the Lord?”
“One of my chief objects in coming to Calcutta was to see if you could
receive from me Holy Communion,” said Mark.
“It would be a great comfort, a great privilege,” said Coldstream; “one
from which sin has for long shut me out.”
The prison authorities put no difficulties in the way; they had from
the first treated their unhappy charge with consideration. On the
following morning the dreary cell became, as it were, a chapel. Over
the rude table, on which former criminals had carved their names, a
spotless white cloth was spread, covering every mark and unsightly
stain. Before it knelt Oscar and his wife, with their missionary
friends. It was a holy, peaceful service. Oscar felt that there
was a blessing even for a sinner such as he. _Blessed is he whose
transgression is pardoned, and whose sin is covered; blessed is the
man to whom the Lord imputeth not sin._