A VISIT OF INQUIRY.
Many troubles are worse in anticipation than in reality. Mr. Felix
Stapleton had cut the difficult knot of his affairs in the only right
and direct way; and all the haunting spectres that had filled his days
with care, and made his nights hideous, vanished at once.
He had rebuilt the little mission chapel, which had been pronounced
unsafe; he had made atonement in some way to every man who had paid him
more for a house than it was worth; and he had met his liabilities like
a man and a Christian.
Of course all this had not been done at small cost to himself. Much time
and thought had been given to his affairs, and competent advice sought
by him. It goes without saying that there had been many consultations at
which his brother and his son assisted, and they were frequently joined
by Mrs. Stapleton and her eldest daughter. In one point they were
decided and united, once for all: whatever came they would not forfeit
their own self-respect, and that of each other; nor would they do what
their consciences, cultivated by Christianity, declared to be wrong in
God’s sight, and dishonourable in the sight of the best men. And having
thus decided it was wonderful how easy and practicable all the rest
became.
The Granchester folk were considerably surprised, and almost filled with
consternation, when they discovered that Mr. Stapleton’s house and
estate, and even his horses, carriages, and furniture, were for sale;
but he gained immensely from the fact that he was himself selling them,
and not his creditors. His place was so convenient and beautiful, and in
such excellent condition, that it sold exceedingly well, and with little
delay; and the wonder of it all scarcely lasted the proverbial nine
days. The greatest trouble Mr. Stapleton had was to get the money at
once, and pay it away as quickly; for this is not the way in which
business is done in these days; but he was a very determined man, and
even the lawyers had for once to be in a hurry. For a few days he had
much to endure—since it took that time for the people to make up their
minds whether he was a rogue or a hero—and one or two acquaintances
became less genial in their greetings and more cautious in their
dealings with him. But after the meeting of the creditors, when it was
understood what the man had really done, and how he had vindicated his
honour and Christian principle, he was treated with a respect which
almost amounted to veneration. One of the happiest memories of his life,
henceforth, was that of the testimony which the chairman bore to his
uprightness and sustained honour, and of the emphatic approval and
handshakings of the other men.
And now himself and family were safely ensconced in their pretty country
cottage, and had entered upon their new life. Mr. Stapleton went off
every morning on the outside of the tram, and enjoyed his twopenny ride.
He was always accompanied by his son, and generally by his eldest
daughter, who now gave lessons on the violin, and had several pupils.
Mrs. Stapleton spent an hour in the garden daily, and was assisted by
some of the younger children. The girls were taking lessons in
housekeeping of their mother. The troubles of the family had brought
them all more closely together, and there was more love and brightness
among them than before.
“Do you feel as if you have come down in the social scale, mother?”
asked Ernest one day.
“Not in the least,” was the prompt reply. “My friends seem to have
settled in the affirmative the question, ‘Ought we to visit her?’ and
many of them have taken the trouble to come over and call. But they
quite understand that I am too busy now to give much time to social
civilities; and I am prepared to spend the rest of my days in the bosom
of my family.”
As for Mr. Stapleton, the cloud had been lifted from him, and his step
became once more buoyant and free. And the best of it was that his
courageous example was followed by many other men, who would not have
had strength to be honest if he had not shown them the way.
Before many weeks had passed an incident occurred which rendered it
possible that he might once more win his way to fortune, although, as he
often declared, if he were a millionaire he would never again live as
extravagantly as he had done; and, indeed, simple life was becoming
fashionable in many quarters.
The story of Arthur Knight’s removal to Craighelbyl had been frequently
told in the illustrated and other newspapers, and it had excited great
interest. Some manufacturers who were finding the expenses of their
location in London and other large cities almost too heavy to be borne
were fascinated by the idea of getting away into some country district,
where the cost of living and production would be so much less as to
cover in time that of removal. Before long several firms had resolved
upon making a similar venture, and one or two limited liability
companies were formed for the same purpose.
At a meeting of the managers of some of these companies it was resolved
to ask Felix Stapleton to undertake the requisite buildings; and, as may
be imagined, there was great rejoicing in his home at the news, as also
at the home of Dr. Stapleton; for his brother hastened to inform him,
and to ask his help and advice. “It could not come at a better time for
me,” he said. “Most of my men will go with me anywhere, and will work
for fair wages. The building trade is slack here so I shall have no
difficulty. I am advised to go to Craighelbyl, and see the place for
myself.”
“Certainly, and I will go with you,” said the doctor. “I was wishing for
just such an opportunity. A daughter of a friend of mine is going
there—Miss Tom Whitwell—and I shall be glad to offer to be her escort.
How soon can you go? There is nothing like seeing for yourself, and I
would lose no time about it if I were you; for Knight’s idea is certain
to prove fruitful seed in more directions than one.”
“Yes, there is no doubt of it. The day of the big cities is over, at
least in one respect. It has always been a mistake to plant new works in
the metropolis; London is for other purposes than to make kettles, or
shoes, or blankets in. It has been growing more beautiful and healthy
every year. And there are plenty of other places where the common work
of the factory can be better and more cheaply done than in her streets.
It is waste of many kinds to continue immense black works within the
sound of Big Ben. The laws of England will always be made in
Westminster, and her books within a two-mile radius of Paternoster Row,
while round about the Bank and the Exchange King Commerce will reign for
ever; and from the Thames will still go the ships that are to conquer
the world, not with their big guns but with their cargo.”
“Ah! A cargo of rum and whisky!”
“No, indeed. Do you suppose that England is going to stand that sort of
thing much longer? I am sure she will not, for, Fred, the Church is
waking up at last!”
“Yes; I really believe she is.”
“And, in the meantime, the denizens of ‘darkest London’ are being taken
out by thousands into the light of broad fields and green spaces, and
are being educated to love work by enterprising Englishmen who will
actually _make it pay_.”
“They are sure to do that if it is to be done.”
“I believe it is. There are great capacities for work in the ordinary
working man of England, and now, when so often he is given a share in
the profits which he helps to make, we shall be able to hold our own, no
matter who tries to block the way.”
“Bravo, Felix! I congratulate you on the change of heart and head which
has taken place in you. And when will you go to Craighelbyl?”
“On Monday. I should like to be at home on Sunday. They have asked me to
preach in our little village in the evening. Of course, I cannot preach
a sermon; but a man ought to have learnt something by his prosperities
and adversities, and all the ways in which God deals with his soul, and
I will gladly tell the people that which has been taught to me. And,
after all, they like that sort of thing. Even the parsons are the more
successful the more they let life teach them, and the more of the real
teachings of life which they put in their sermons. Too many of them
really do not understand the fierce temptations which beset men who are
doing the world’s business, and I suppose that is how it is that a man
may so often attend two services, and yet fail to grasp anything which
will help to keep him steady and true on the Monday.”
“That is so. And although all congregations like to get from their
ministers what is called an intellectual treat—or, better still, a
spiritual treat—every one needs and appreciates the direct talk of a
practical man. But, Felix, we must keep to business now. Can you spare a
few hours to go over to Mr. Whitwell’s?”
“Can _you_?”
“Yes; I will drive across at once if you like. I shall be back in time
to see two patients this evening. It is always a pleasure to go to
Hornby Hall.”
The master of the Hall was delighted to make the acquaintance of Felix
Stapleton, since he honoured the man, as many others did, for the
fidelity to Christian principles which he had exhibited. The two men had
much in common, and the time flew rapidly while they were together.
“I shall be greatly indebted to you for taking my daughter under your
charge during her journey,” he said. “And I am sure you will enjoy your
visit. I should like to accompany you, too. But you will not find the
man who is the life and soul of the place there. I see from the papers
that Mr. Knight is trying to be in half-a-dozen places at once. He is
endeavouring to prepare for the next political battle, and there is no
time to lose, for a dissolution is imminent.”
“Do you think so? That is my own opinion also.”
“Oh, yes. The Government is in great straits. There must be an appeal to
the country, and that soon.”
“It will be a big fight.”
“It will, indeed, and fought on altogether new lines; for the conflict
will be between the Church and the world, and not, as before, between
two parties who themselves make half the difficulties that are supposed
to separate them.”
“Are the churches ready?”
“I think they are more nearly ready than ever before. They have made
their influence more surely felt during the last twenty years than at
any other time since the formation of the present British Constitution.
And this has naturally aroused the antagonism of the opposing powers,
who do nothing but sneer at the development of the Christian conscience
in politics; but the result will be that those who are for righteousness
will ignore their minor differences, and stand together in this
contest.”
“If they do, the right will be victorious. Scourby means to lead the
way,” said Dr. Stapleton. “There is not, I think, the least fear that
Mr. Lavender will be returned again. The people have learned their
lesson thoroughly.”
“I think so, though it remains to be seen.”
“I did not tell you, Felix,” said the doctor, addressing his brother,
“that I had the pleasure of making one of a deputation from all the
religious societies of the town, to urge Mr. Whitwell to allow himself
to be nominated.”
“I am glad to hear it. I need not ask whether you were successful,
because the feeling is strong that no man who is solicited by the united
churches can do other than accept the honour and responsibility.”
“That is my own feeling,” said Mr. Whitwell. “But for this I should
certainly have declined, for I have no wish whatever to enter
Parliament; but I think in the present crisis every man should put his
patriotism before his own wishes or convenience.”
“And in your case there can be no doubt of victory.”
“I am not sure. I believe it will certainly be a hard fight.”
“I hope every man will vote. There ought to be a law to compel him to do
so,” said Dr. Stapleton.
“What!” cried his brother, “do you want to still further curtail the
liberty of the subject?”
“I believe,” said Mr. Whitwell, “that Arthur Knight will have done a
great deal to bring about a better state of things in England. Have you
heard him speak, Mr. Stapleton?”
“Yes; several times. He is a man of marvellous power and eloquence. What
he says goes directly to the hearts of his hearers. His personality is
so vivid, and his words and gestures are so telling, that it is
difficult to resist him. He sways an audience as few have been able to
do. I am sorry he is not at Craighelbyl.”
“I should think he will probably be there during your visit,” said
Tom—and then she stopped, as if confused.
“But he is quite on the other side of the country,” objected her father.
“Yes? But the country is not a very broad one, and Mr. Knight is a good
traveller. I am sure he would wish to see you, Dr. Stapleton, and would
return, if possible, in time to do the honours of his own place.”
Mr. Whitwell shook his head. “He is engaged just now on grave business,”
he said.
“I suppose we are to have another eloquent man in our midst directly—the
young clergyman from Canada?”
“Macdonald? Yes; I understand that he will rival Knight. It is another
case of Wesley and Whitfield. Only Macdonald is a very staunch
Churchman, and speaks in the interests of the English Church.”
“What a good thing it is that the Church will hear him!” remarked the
doctor.
“Dr. Stapleton, I wish you could persuade my friend, Margaret Miller, to
accompany us to Craighelbyl,” said Tom.
“I could not urge her to do so now, for, although she does not yet know
it, I am afraid that her grandfather is ill.”
“Mr. Harris ill!”
“He is not well, certainly, and I am rather anxious about him. I want
him to consult a specialist.”
“It would be a sad thing for us all if Mr. Harris were ill. We could not
spare him just now.”
“I hope I may be mistaken. He is a fine man, and my best friend,” said
the doctor. “Felix, my time is up. I shall call for you, Miss Tom, at
nine o’clock on Monday morning. Our train leaves Euston at eleven.”
Three of the passengers who travelled into Wales by that train, although
they had as pleasant a journey as any of the rest, and were quite as
talkative, had each some thoughts which were kept entirely to the
thinker, and a profound secret from the others. They were going, as more
than a few other people had gone, in order to see for themselves the new
departure which created so much interest everywhere, and their
conversation was chiefly on this theme. Tom, too, was eager to see her
friend Mary Wythburn, and renew the friendship of the old school days,
and hear all that Mary would tell of her strange experiences since that
morning which she never liked to think about, when she had fled from her
friends rather than be married. Tom was very desirous, too, to introduce
to Mr. Stapleton the two children, Geoff and Sis, and discover how they
liked the new life. Tom’s stories of these prodigies were very amusing,
and helped to while away the tedium of the journey. But that which she
was thinking of the most frequently she told to no one; and perhaps Dr.
Stapleton and his brother were as little confidential as she.
It was evening when they neared Afon Wen, and saw the beautiful blue sea
spread before them; but Craighelbyl looks its loveliest and best in the
evening lights, and the travellers agreed that a more charming situation
could scarcely have been found.
Miss Wythburn and her father stood on the platform, and the two children
were beside them. As the train drew up, Sissy shouted, “Aunty Tom, what
have you brought me? I am such a great, good girl now.”
The child was exceedingly useful, for the meeting might have had some
elements of awkwardness in it if she had not created a diversion.
Mary hastened forward to greet her friend. “Oh, Tom! how good it is to
see you. But how pale and tired you are! The Welsh air will soon change
all that though. If you had but brought Margaret with you my joy would
have been perfect. How do you do, Dr. Stapleton?”
The doctor looked so intently into the face that had seldom been absent
from his thoughts that Mary was obliged to turn from his keen gaze in
some confusion. Mr. Wythburn’s pleasure was very great; he had longed
for the sight of an old friend, and he had always liked the doctor. He
wished he might have come to stay for a month; and he promised himself
the greatest possible pleasure in showing him the features of the new
place in which Mr. Wythburn almost felt that he had a share.
The two girls walked together to talk as girls will; and Tom was soon in
ecstasies about everything. “But I wish very much that Mr. Knight were
at home,” said Mary; “for the place never seems complete without him.”