Chapter III
After the Preaching
IN less than an hour from that time, Seth Bede was walking by Dinah'sside along the hedgerow-path that skirted the pastures and greencorn-fields which lay between the village and the Hall Farm. Dinah hadtaken off her little Quaker bonnet again, and was holding it inher hands that she might have a freer enjoyment of the cool eveningtwilight, and Seth could see the expression of her face quite clearly ashe walked by her side, timidly revolving something he wanted to say toher. It was an expression of unconscious placid gravity--of absorptionin thoughts that had no connection with the present moment or with herown personality--an expression that is most of all discouraging to alover. Her very walk was discouraging: it had that quiet elasticity thatasks for no support. Seth felt this dimly; he said to himself, "She'stoo good and holy for any man, let alone me," and the words he hadbeen summoning rushed back again before they had reached his lips. Butanother thought gave him courage: "There's no man could love her betterand leave her freer to follow the Lord's work." They had been silent formany minutes now, since they had done talking about Bessy Cranage;Dinah seemed almost to have forgotten Seth's presence, and her pacewas becoming so much quicker that the sense of their being only a fewminutes' walk from the yard-gates of the Hall Farm at last gave Sethcourage to speak.
"You've quite made up your mind to go back to Snowfield o' Saturday,Dinah?"
"Yes," said Dinah, quietly. "I'm called there. It was borne in upon mymind while I was meditating on Sunday night, as Sister Allen, who's in adecline, is in need of me. I saw her as plain as we see that bit of thinwhite cloud, lifting up her poor thin hand and beckoning to me. And thismorning when I opened the Bible for direction, the first words myeyes fell on were, 'And after we had seen the vision, immediately weendeavoured to go into Macedonia.' If it wasn't for that clear showingof the Lord's will, I should be loath to go, for my heart yearns overmy aunt and her little ones, and that poor wandering lamb Hetty Sorrel.I've been much drawn out in prayer for her of late, and I look on it asa token that there may be mercy in store for her."
"God grant it," said Seth. "For I doubt Adam's heart is so set on her,he'll never turn to anybody else; and yet it 'ud go to my heart if hewas to marry her, for I canna think as she'd make him happy. It's a deepmystery--the way the heart of man turns to one woman out of all the resthe's seen i' the world, and makes it easier for him to work seven yearfor HER, like Jacob did for Rachel, sooner than have any other woman forth' asking. I often think of them words, 'And Jacob served seven yearsfor Rachel; and they seemed to him but a few days for the love he hadto her.' I know those words 'ud come true with me, Dinah, if so be you'dgive me hope as I might win you after seven years was over. I know youthink a husband 'ud be taking up too much o' your thoughts, because St.Paul says, 'She that's married careth for the things of the world howshe may please her husband'; and may happen you'll think me overbold tospeak to you about it again, after what you told me o' your mind lastSaturday. But I've been thinking it over again by night and by day, andI've prayed not to be blinded by my own desires, to think what's onlygood for me must be good for you too. And it seems to me there's moretexts for your marrying than ever you can find against it. For St. Paulsays as plain as can be in another place, 'I will that the youngerwomen marry, bear children, guide the house, give none occasion to theadversary to speak reproachfully'; and then 'two are better than one';and that holds good with marriage as well as with other things. For weshould be o' one heart and o' one mind, Dinah. We both serve the sameMaster, and are striving after the same gifts; and I'd never be thehusband to make a claim on you as could interfere with your doing thework God has fitted you for. I'd make a shift, and fend indoor and out,to give you more liberty--more than you can have now, for you've got toget your own living now, and I'm strong enough to work for us both."
When Seth had once begun to urge his suit, he went on earnestly andalmost hurriedly, lest Dinah should speak some decisive word before hehad poured forth all the arguments he had prepared. His cheeks becameflushed as he went on his mild grey eyes filled with tears, and hisvoice trembled as he spoke the last sentence. They had reached one ofthose very narrow passes between two tall stones, which performed theoffice of a stile in Loamshire, and Dinah paused as she turned towardsSeth and said, in her tender but calm treble notes, "Seth Bede, I thankyou for your love towards me, and if I could think of any man as morethan a Christian brother, I think it would be you. But my heart is notfree to marry. That is good for other women, and it is a great and ablessed thing to be a wife and mother; but 'as God has distributed toevery man, as the Lord hath called every man, so let him walk.' God hascalled me to minister to others, not to have any joys or sorrows of myown, but to rejoice with them that do rejoice, and to weep with thosethat weep. He has called me to speak his word, and he has greatly ownedmy work. It could only be on a very clear showing that I could leave thebrethren and sisters at Snowfield, who are favoured with very little ofthis world's good; where the trees are few, so that a child might countthem, and there's very hard living for the poor in the winter. It hasbeen given me to help, to comfort, and strengthen the little flock thereand to call in many wanderers; and my soul is filled with these thingsfrom my rising up till my lying down. My life is too short, and God'swork is too great for me to think of making a home for myself in thisworld. I've not turned a deaf ear to your words, Seth, for when I saw asyour love was given to me, I thought it might be a leading of Providencefor me to change my way of life, and that we should be fellow-helpers;and I spread the matter before the Lord. But whenever I tried to fix mymind on marriage, and our living together, other thoughts always camein--the times when I've prayed by the sick and dying, and the happyhours I've had preaching, when my heart was filled with love, and theWord was given to me abundantly. And when I've opened the Bible fordirection, I've always lighted on some clear word to tell me where mywork lay. I believe what you say, Seth, that you would try to be a helpand not a hindrance to my work; but I see that our marriage is not God'swill--He draws my heart another way. I desire to live and die withouthusband or children. I seem to have no room in my soul for wants andfears of my own, it has pleased God to fill my heart so full with thewants and sufferings of his poor people."
Seth was unable to reply, and they walked on in silence. At last, asthey were nearly at the yard-gate, he said, "Well, Dinah, I must seekfor strength to bear it, and to endure as seeing Him who is invisible.But I feel now how weak my faith is. It seems as if, when you are gone,I could never joy in anything any more. I think it's something passingthe love of women as I feel for you, for I could be content withoutyour marrying me if I could go and live at Snowfield and be near you.I trusted as the strong love God has given me towards you was a leadingfor us both; but it seems it was only meant for my trial. Perhaps I feelmore for you than I ought to feel for any creature, for I often can'thelp saying of you what the hymn says--
In darkest shades if she appear, My dawning is begun; She is my soul's bright morning-star, And she my rising sun.
That may be wrong, and I am to be taught better. But you wouldn't bedispleased with me if things turned out so as I could leave this countryand go to live at Snowfield?"
"No, Seth; but I counsel you to wait patiently, and not lightly toleave your own country and kindred. Do nothing without the Lord's clearbidding. It's a bleak and barren country there, not like this land ofGoshen you've been used to. We mustn't be in a hurry to fix and chooseour own lot; we must wait to be guided."
"But you'd let me write you a letter, Dinah, if there was anything Iwanted to tell you?"
"Yes, sure; let me know if you're in any trouble. You'll be continuallyin my prayers."
They had now reached the yard-gate, and Seth said, "I won't go in,Dinah, so farewell." He paused and hesitated after she had given himher hand, and then said, "There's no knowing but what you may see thingsdifferent after a while. There may be a new leading."
"Let us leave that, Seth.
It's good to live only a moment at a time, asI've read in one of Mr. Wesley's books. It isn't for you and me to layplans; we've nothing to do but to obey and to trust. Farewell."
Dinah pressed his hand with rather a sad look in her loving eyes, andthen passed through the gate, while Seth turned away to walk lingeringlyhome. But instead of taking the direct road, he chose to turn back alongthe fields through which he and Dinah had already passed; and I thinkhis blue linen handkerchief was very wet with tears long before hehad made up his mind that it was time for him to set his face steadilyhomewards. He was but three-and-twenty, and had only just learned whatit is to love--to love with that adoration which a young man gives to awoman whom he feels to be greater and better than himself. Love of thissort is hardly distinguishable from religious feeling. What deep andworthy love is so, whether of woman or child, or art or music. Ourcaresses, our tender words, our still rapture under the influenceof autumn sunsets, or pillared vistas, or calm majestic statues, orBeethoven symphonies all bring with them the consciousness that they aremere waves and ripples in an unfathomable ocean of love and beauty; ouremotion in its keenest moment passes from expression into silence, ourlove at its highest flood rushes beyond its object and loses itself inthe sense of divine mystery. And this blessed gift of venerating lovehas been given to too many humble craftsmen since the world began forus to feel any surprise that it should have existed in the soul of aMethodist carpenter half a century ago, while there was yet a lingeringafter-glow from the time when Wesley and his fellow-labourer fed on thehips and haws of the Cornwall hedges, after exhausting limbs and lungsin carrying a divine message to the poor.
That afterglow has long faded away; and the picture we are apt to makeof Methodism in our imagination is not an amphitheatre of green hills,or the deep shade of broad-leaved sycamores, where a crowd of roughmen and weary-hearted women drank in a faith which was a rudimentaryculture, which linked their thoughts with the past, lifted theirimagination above the sordid details of their own narrow lives, andsuffused their souls with the sense of a pitying, loving, infinitePresence, sweet as summer to the houseless needy. It is too possiblethat to some of my readers Methodism may mean nothing more thanlow-pitched gables up dingy streets, sleek grocers, sponging preachers,and hypocritical jargon--elements which are regarded as an exhaustiveanalysis of Methodism in many fashionable quarters.
That would be a pity; for I cannot pretend that Seth and Dinah wereanything else than Methodists--not indeed of that modern type whichreads quarterly reviews and attends in chapels with pillared porticoes,but of a very old-fashioned kind. They believed in present miracles, ininstantaneous conversions, in revelations by dreams and visions; theydrew lots, and sought for Divine guidance by opening the Bible athazard; having a literal way of interpreting the Scriptures, which isnot at all sanctioned by approved commentators; and it is impossiblefor me to represent their diction as correct, or their instruction asliberal. Still--if I have read religious history aright--faith,hope, and charity have not always been found in a direct ratio with asensibility to the three concords, and it is possible--thank Heaven!--tohave very erroneous theories and very sublime feelings. The raw baconwhich clumsy Molly spares from her own scanty store that she may carryit to her neighbour's child to "stop the fits," may be a piteouslyinefficacious remedy; but the generous stirring of neighbourly kindnessthat prompted the deed has a beneficent radiation that is not lost.
Considering these things, we can hardly think Dinah and Seth beneath oursympathy, accustomed as we may be to weep over the loftier sorrowsof heroines in satin boots and crinoline, and of heroes riding fieryhorses, themselves ridden by still more fiery passions.
Poor Seth! He was never on horseback in his life except once, when hewas a little lad, and Mr. Jonathan Burge took him up behind, tellinghim to "hold on tight"; and instead of bursting out into wild accusingapostrophes to God and destiny, he is resolving, as he now walkshomewards under the solemn starlight, to repress his sadness, to be lessbent on having his own will, and to live more for others, as Dinah does.