CHAPTER III.--A FORBIDDEN BOOK.
Carol had always been a lonely boy. The companionship of other childrenwas a pleasure he had never known. In the remote Devonshire village,where all the years of his young life had been spent, there were nochildren who could be invited to his home as friends and companions forhim. First his mother's delicate health, and then his own, hadprevented visits to or from his cousins. When he was seven years old afall from his pony caused an injury to his hip, which eventuallydeveloped into what the doctors diagnosed as tubercular disease of thehip bone. For three years his mother had been slowly dying ofconsumption, and the boy had been the joy and brightness of her life.She did not live long after she was told that what she was sufferingfrom he would suffer, too, in another form. She died about six monthsbefore the war broke out in South Africa, and fulfilling a promise madesome time before, a favorite cousin, then resident in America, whosegirlhood had been spent with her as a sister, came to take charge of thehousehold and the young motherless invalid. Major Willmar was orderedto the front shortly after operations commenced, but before he went hehad hopes that his boy would grow well and strong. There had been sucha marked change in him from the day Cousin Alicia arrived, bringing tothat saddened home love and--Truth.
It can, therefore, be easily understood that the first few days at theManor were to Carol days almost of bewilderment. As soon as his cousinsfound that their joy in having Father back again, safe and sound, didnot hurt Carol, nothing restrained their wild exuberance of spirits.They could not understand the gentle, reserved boy, who spoke with somuch love and tenderness of his father, yet had no tears or sadnessbecause he would return no more.
"Perhaps he doesn't quite understand," said Gwendolin.
"I think he does," said Edith, "and I am sure he loved Uncle as much aswe love Father. There is such a far-away look in his eyes, when hespeaks of his father and mother, just as if he were looking at somethingwe cannot see. Although he is so gentle and kind, especially to thelittle ones, I am sure no one could persuade him to do anything hethought wrong. He is a dear boy. I am glad he is going to study withus for the present, because the boys at school would not understand him.Even Percy and Frank are inclined to mistake his gentleness forweakness. Yet I could imagine him standing and facing any real danger,when most boys would run away."
From the first Edith had conceived a great affection for her CousinCarol, and, as a consequence, she understood him better. On manyoccasions she was able to help him, when Percy and Frank were somewhatbrusque and impatient in their treatment of him. They could notunderstand his reluctance to join in some of their games. He loved tolook on; but everything was new and strange to him. He had never beenused to playing the games which were so much to Frank and Percy. Ediththen quietly explained to her less thoughtful brothers that they shouldnot expect a boy who had spent three years on an invalid's couch to beable to play the games in which they were so proficient.
Carol was often in the nursery, Nurse was so big and motherly. She hadwelcomed him, as if he had been one of her own children from the first.It was a fixed idea amongst the children that as long as there had beena Manor House, Nurse had presided over the nursery. She was alwaysready to tell them stories of their father and uncles and aunts in theold days. She even had tales of their grandfather, and many pastgenerations of Mandevilles, and in all the stories, of however long ago,they imagined Nurse playing part. One thing they never could imagine:that was the Manor House without her.
When the little girls wanted him, and that was very frequently, Carolwas always ready to go to the nursery, and often accompanied them ontheir walks. Percy and Frank considered it much beneath their dignityto take a walk "with the babies."
The improvement in Mrs. Mandeville's health, which had commenced onCarol's first visit to her room, continued. In a few days she had takenher usual place in the household, and the children rejoiced in thenightly visits to their bedrooms. How glad they were when there were novisitors downstairs, and they could keep her quite a long time.
Upon the occasion of her first visit to Carol's room, she found himsitting up in bed, reading. She had expected to find him asleep, as theother children had detained her so long.
"My little book-worm, what is the story you find so interesting?" sheasked playfully, intending to tell him lovingly the next morning thatshe did not like the children to read in bed.
"Auntie, it isn't a story book. It is _Science and Health_. I read itevery night and morning."
"What a very strange book for a little boy to be interested in! Thetitle sounds quite alarmingly dry."
"Oh, Auntie, have you never heard of it? It is such a wonderful book. Iam beginning to understand it now. At first I could not, but CousinAlicia used to explain it so beautifully to me, and now I love to readit."
"I cannot say I remember the title, dear, but I should like to look intoit. Will you spare it to me this evening? I think it is time now forlights to be extinguished."
Carol gave the book to her gladly, little thinking it would be many longdays before he would see it again.
When Mrs. Mandeville returned to the drawing-room, the Rector was there."Do you know anything of this book, Raymond?" she asked, giving it intohis hand. "I found Carol reading it in bed--_Science and Health_." Thefrown which was habitually on the Rector's face deepened.
"Indeed I do," he said, "and I should like to do with every copy what Iam going to do with this."
He walked over to the fireplace; his intentions were plain. Mrs.Mandeville caught hold of his arm.
"No, no, Raymond, you must not. The book was a present from MissDesmond to Carol, and you have no right to destroy it, however stronglyyou may disapprove of his reading it."
"I do more than disapprove. I absolutely forbid him to read any more ofit; the most unorthodox rubbish that has been published for centuries.The worst of it is, it has taken hold of some people, especially women,and they are carried away by it."
The Rector slipped the little book into his pocket. As he had notdestroyed it, he meant to make sure there should be no chance of itsfalling again into Carol's hands. He, as well as Mrs. Mandeville, wasthe boy's legal guardian.
Mrs. Mandeville was sorry. She felt sure from the way Carol had spokenthat the book was precious to him. Very gently, the next morning, shetold him of his uncle's decision. She noted the quivering lips; thetears he was bravely trying not to shed.
"Dear boy, did you value it so much?" she said.
"Oh, Auntie!" The simple exclamation expressed more pain and regretthan many words could have done.
"Darling, I am sorry; but we must believe that Uncle Raymond has goodreasons for taking the book away. He says it is fearful heresy. Youmust not forget that your dear grandfather was a bishop, also yourgreat-grandfather. I could not tell you during how many generationsthere has always been at least one member of our family a dignitary ofthe Church."
"What does unorthodox mean, Auntie?"
"It means contrary to, or opposed to the teachings of our belovedchurch. Your dear father and mother were both good church people."
"Yes, Auntie; but that did not make Mummie better when she was so ill.The vicar often used to sit with her, and pray for her in church, butshe was never better for it. When Cousin Alicia came and I was so ill,I began at once to get better. That little book, _Science and Health_,had taught her to understand the Bible, and God answered her prayers forme!"
"It was certainly a remarkable coincidence--your improving so quicklyafter Miss Desmond came; but it may have been the result of some freshmedicine the doctor was trying."
"Auntie, I was not taking any medicine. The first night Cousin Aliciacame I slept till morning, and the next day I wanted something to eat.The nurses thought it was wonderful, because they had had suchdifficulty to get me to eat before. Then when they dressed the woundson my hip every morning I used to scream so, some of the servants wentwhere they could not hear me. In only one week I lost
all the pain andI did not cry at all, and very soon one by one the wounds healed."
"It was very remarkable, dear. But do you associate your healing withthe book which Uncle Raymond has taken away?"
"Why, Auntie, _Science and Health_ is the Key to the Bible, and theBible is the 'tree whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.'But people have not understood until they had that Key how to go to theBible for healing. Cousin Alicia understood; that was why she was ableto heal me."
"What you say seems very strange, Carol. If Uncle had not taken the bookaway, I should have liked to look into it. I expect he would refuse ifI asked him to let me read it."
It did not occur to Mrs. Mandeville that she could obtain another copyof the book. The confiscated copy was not the only one to be had. Herconversation with Carol was interrupted just then. The same night whenshe went, as the evening before, to his bedroom, she found him sittingup in bed. He greeted her eagerly with the words:
"Auntie, I have been thinking."
"Dear boy, what have you been thinking?" She kissed the earnest,upturned face, and realized for the first time that he had a verybeautiful countenance, so like, she thought, one of Murillo's childangels.
"I have been thinking, Auntie, of what you said about unorthodox. Agood many years ago when Protestants were called heretics, they wereunorthodox to the Church of Rome, were they not?"
"Certainly, dear."
"But Protestants are not called heretics now, are they?"
"I think we never hear them so spoken of now, dear, because there aremore Protestants in England than Roman Catholics."
"Then, Auntie, when there are more Christian Scientists than otherchurch people, _they_ won't be called heretics."
"Will that ever be?" Mrs. Mandeville asked with a smile.
"Yes, Auntie; it must be, because Christian Scientists obey Jesus. Allthat he said and commanded in the New Testament, they try to carry out.He commanded his disciples to heal the sick."
"His disciples of that day, dear."
"But, Auntie, didn't he say: 'What I say unto you I say unto all.' Ifwe love him we shall keep all his commandments. That is why I am sorryUncle Raymond has taken away my _Science and Health_. I want tounderstand it like Cousin Alicia does; then some day, if I know littleboys or girls ill like I was, I could heal them. It makes me so sorrynow that I cannot study. I have written to Cousin Alicia to help me. Iknow she will. It has been so difficult all day to stand 'porter at thedoor of thought.' Such a lot of unkind thoughts would keep trying toget in. I know I must not let any of them in, and Cousin Alicia willhelp me to keep them out."
"I am afraid I do not quite understand, Carol."
"Don't you, Auntie? I have a little book that will explain. It iscalled 'At the Door.' Our mind is like a beautiful white mansion, andthoughts are like people who go in and out. If we let unkind thoughtspass in, all kind thoughts go away. Self-pity isn't at all a niceperson, I have had such difficulty to keep him out all day, especiallywhen I remembered that Father knew I was studying _Science and Health_,and he did not take it away from me."
"I will tell that to Uncle Raymond, dear, perhaps it will cause him toalter his decision."
"Thank you, Auntie; I know it will be all right. I have only to bepatient. They have all gone away now, self-pity and indignation, andanger. If I keep my mansion so full of love, there will be no room forthem to squeeze in, will there?"
"No, darling. Now go to sleep. I will take the little book down withme and read it."
Mrs. Mandeville remembered as she went downstairs her visit three yearsago to Carol's home. Then she would have described him as a very spoiltchild, making allowance for his illness, he was fretful, selfish,exacting. What had wrought such a marvellous change? The physicalhealing seemed slight in comparison.