Shortly after the doctor left Carol's room, the maid entered to say the
Rector was downstairs. Could he come up?
"I will speak with the Rector before he comes upstairs," Mrs. Mandeville
said, and left the room for that purpose.
The news had reached the Rector that Dr. Burton had been sent for early
that morning, and he also surmised that the boy must be worse. But the
servants had assured him that such was not the case before Mrs.
Mandeville joined him in the library.
"What is this I hear about Carol, Emmeline? He is not worse, yet you
sent for Dr. Burton before breakfast. I felt quite alarmed."
"We could not understand it, Raymond. I must confess to feeling afraid
it was not true. Carol is quite well. Dr. Burton admits it. He says
it is a miracle. Carol says it is Christian Science. Dear Raymond, I
want to beg you before you see Carol not to say anything to shake his
faith. It is so beautiful."
"His faith in what? In that heresy called Christian Science, which is
neither Science nor Christian?"
"Oh, Raymond, I cannot help thinking you are mistaken in your judgment.
I do not, as I told you before, quite understand what Christian Science
is, but this I know, I have never met a character so Christ-like as
Carol's. All day yesterday he lay in such pain from those terrible
bruises, and the injury to his spine and head, that we could not move
him in the effort to ease his position without increasing the pain.
To-day it is all gone. What has taken it away? He says the
Christ--Truth has come to him and healed him. If we believe Jesus'
words: 'Lo, I am with you always even to the end of the world'--why
should it not be true? Cannot the spiritual Christ say as Jesus so often
said, 'According to your faith be it unto you'?"
"Of course! But that is not Christian Science."
"Yes, Raymond, that is what Carol seems to have learned from Christian
Science. Heaven to him is not a far-off locality, it is here--all around
him, and God is ever-present Love. His one thought--his one desire
seems to be to possess that Mind which was also in Christ Jesus. What
can you say against such teaching?"
The Rector had evidently nothing to say. He remarked briefly, "If I may,
I will go up and see the boy now. I am pressed for time."
"Yes, Raymond, he will be pleased to see you."
She let him go alone, and did not afterwards inquire what had passed
between the boy and his uncle.
Later in the day Mrs. Mandeville took Percy to Carol's room. The boy
had begged so frequently to be allowed to see his cousin. "Just to tell
him I am sorry," he said.
Carol had forgotten all about it.
"Sorry for what, dear Percy?" he inquired, when Percy, in faltering
accents, asked to be forgiven.
"Oh, I think I remember now, Percy, you said something that was not
quite kind, but I knew at the time that you did not mean it. So why
should we remember any more about it?"
"You are just the bravest fellow I know, Carol. I have told all the
boys at school how you stood and faced the bull. They think a
tremendous lot of you for it. So it won't matter when you come with us
if you can't play football or cricket. You will be the hero of the
school."
Then Mrs. Mandeville left the boys together for a little while. Percy
was only too delighted to be able to tell Carol of all that was
happening at school, the matches that had been played, and those that
were to come off shortly.
When Mrs. Burton called that same afternoon, she expressed her great
desire to see and talk with Carol. Mrs. Mandeville readily assented,
remarking that she felt sure Carol would be delighted to see her. As
there were other visitors present, she was not able to accompany her
herself. A maid therefore conducted her to Carol's room. Nurse was
sitting with him. As Mrs. Burton intimated that she had come to have a
little talk with Master Carol, she left the room.
"Eloise sends her love to you, dear Carol. She is so happy to know you
are so wonderfully better. We feared so much that you, too, might be
crippled for life, as she has been, by a fall. The spinal concussion
caused her to lose the use of her legs. We have consulted the first
specialists, but they have never been able to do anything for her. When
the doctor told me this morning how miraculously you have been healed, I
felt I must come and ask you to tell me something about it. Tell me,
dear Carol, what is Christian Science?"
The boy looked up, but not at Mrs. Burton. That far-away dreamy look
came to his eyes, which his cousins knew so well. It was such a big
question to try to answer. It seemed minutes before he spoke. Then he
said: "I think Christian Science means knowledge--a knowledge of God;
and as we gain this knowledge we draw nearer to Him. Cousin Alicia used
to tell me we are all God's children, but we have wandered so far away
from Him. We are prodigals, dwelling in that far country where we are
fed, like the swine, on husks. Christian Science just teaches us the
way back to our Father's house; and as we find the road and walk in it,
we lose the evils that tormented us. Jesus was our elder brother who
never left his Father's house. Although he lived on earth, it was still
his Father's house, because he lived always in the consciousness of
good. And that is what we have to try to do. It seemed easier when I
was with Cousin Alicia."
There was just a note of sadness and regret in the boy's voice.
"What a beautiful thought, Carol, 'living in the consciousness of good.'
But, dear, how can we do it, with sickness, sorrow, and sin, all around?
When I look at my wee girlie, I can never know joy or happiness; her
young life to be so cruelly blighted through the carelessness of a maid.
Every child I see running about free and happy is like a dagger in my
heart, as I know that she should be the same."
"When Cousin Alicia came from America after my mother's death, I was
very ill, and the doctors said I could never be better. But she knew
that I could. She said, 'You are God's child, dear Carol, and all God's
children are spiritual, and therefore perfect. Awake from this dream of
suffering and pain.' Every day she used to talk to me, until she led me
to understand what it is to live in the consciousness of good, and then
I was well."
"Oh, Carol, it seems too wonderful to be true! Do you think that
something might be done for my little girl?"
"Why, of course. I am sure if you will take her to my home, Cousin
Alicia will teach her as she taught me. She is always so happy to teach
people about Christian Science. Shall I write and tell her you will take
Eloise to her?"
"Thank you, dear Carol, but I think, perhaps, before you write, I must
ask Dr. Burton. If he is willing, I will gladly take my little girl to
Miss Desmond."
Mrs. Burton did not stay much longer. On leaving, she tenderly kissed
Carol. "Dear boy, you have given me hope. You cannot think what it has
been to a mother's heart to be so long hopeless," she said.
The little crippled Eloise was watching from her nursery window for her
mother's return. Mrs. Burton went straight to her.
"Have you seen Carol, Mother?" she asked.
"Yes, darling, and I have had such a sweet talk with him. He has made
me so happy. I seem to see you running about like other children."
"Oh, Mother, wouldn't that be lovely! And is he really well?"
"It seems so, dear. Mrs. Mandeville is keeping him quietly in his own
room to-day. But he seemed so well and happy. He wants me to take you
into Devonshire to stay with his cousin. He says she will teach us what
she has taught him--and then--Oh, Eloise, my darling, you, too, would be
well and strong, no longer a little crippled girl."
"What is it, Mother, that he has been taught?"
"It seems something so wonderful and beautiful, dear. He says that
dwelling in the consciousness of good is dwelling in our Father's house,
but, like the prodigal son in the parable, we have wandered away into
that far country where all sorts of evils can befall us. My girlie, we
will try to find our way together into this happy understanding of good
which causes the fetters to fall. I will speak to Father to-night and
ask him to let me take you."
"Do--_do_, please, Mother."
Mrs. Burton waited that evening until it was past the hour for patients
to call at the surgery. Then she went to her husband's consulting-room.
The doctor was sitting at his desk, an open letter before him. His pen
was in his hand, but he was not writing. The answer to the letter
seemed to require much thought. It was only partly written.
"Are you very busy, dear?" Mrs. Burton said, softly twining one arm
around his neck. She was almost nervous. It was a great request she was
about to proffer. She did not quite know how it would be received.
"Not particularly, love, if you want anything. What is it?"
"I want to tell you I had a beautiful talk with Carol this afternoon,
and he is so kind as to ask me to take Eloise to stay with his cousin at
his home in Devonshire, that she--that she might teach us what she has
taught him. You know, dear, we have done everything we can--there is no
other hope for her."
"And you think there may be hope in this--Christian Science?"
"I feel sure of it--since I have seen Carol."
The doctor smiled. The humor of the situation struck him. He pointed
to the open letter on his desk.
"That letter," he said, "is from the Vicar of B-- asking me to give in
his Parish Room the lecture which I gave at B--."
"Oh!" There was an accent of pain in Mrs. Burton's voice. "You are not
going to?"
"Why do you object? The lecture was well received, you remember."
"Yes, but even at the time when the people laughed and applauded, it
seemed to hurt me. I couldn't help thinking if these people, who call
themselves Christian Scientists, believe so absolutely in the Christ
healing, it was what the early Christians believed, and practised, and
they were persecuted. When Christ spoke to Saul of Tarsus, he did not
say, 'Why persecutest thou my followers?' He said 'Why persecutest thou
_me_?'
"So I felt that night that the laughter and ridicule of all in the room
were as stones thrown not at people, but at the Christ. Don't tell me,
dear, that you are going to give that lecture again."
"I am not. That boy's radiant face would come between me and any
audience I might think to address. I have commenced a letter to the
Vicar, telling him I feel I cannot lecture on the subject again."
"And I may take Eloise to Willmar Court?"
"You may. Should she regain the use of her legs, as a result of the
visit, I will espouse the Cause I once derided. After witnessing
Carol's marvellous recovery, it does not seem impossible."