CHAPTER EIGHT.
BEARING THE CROSS.
Walter's good intentions and resolutions respecting his treatment of hisbrother, though sincere when he uttered them in the presence of hisaunt, were by no means strong enough to make him curb his wit or hisdispleasure when Amos did anything to annoy or thwart him. And not onlyso; but there abode in his mind a feeling of mingled jealousy andannoyance when he was constrained to admit to himself his brother'ssuperiority. If Amos had some self-imposed duty to perform, why shouldhe thrust this duty into other people's faces? Duty was a very finething in its way, no doubt, but grave Mr Duty was a very sour-tempered,troublesome old fellow when he trode on his neighbour's toes. And whyshould Amos make himself disagreeable by adopting a course of duty whichunfitted him for cordially co-operating with his younger brother in hisschemes? There was a sort of monasticism in this conduct in Walter'seyes. Here was his brother living amongst them, and yet, having takenthe vows of some self-imposed duty upon him, he was looking down uponthem all as though from some higher standing-ground. What a pity thathe did not retire into a monastery, where he could act out his vows andhis duty without troubling the noses of ordinary mortals like hisrelations with this oppressive "odour of sanctity." So thought Walter;and he made no concealment of his feelings from Amos, whom he now beganto call "the Monk," or "Father Gengulphus."
Amos took it all very quietly, fully understanding that Walter was vexedwith him for pursuing a path alone, along which his brother neithercould nor would follow him at present. He was content that it should beso, and bore the cross patiently, being willing to bide his time,thankful to notice in Walter a kindlier feeling towards himself on thewhole, and convinced that, in the end, his own motives and work would beduly appreciated by that brother whom he sincerely loved.
Miss Huntingdon saw what was going on, and rejoiced. She knew well thatthe discipline would only tend to brighten the character of her eldernephew, and felt sure that Walter would learn by degrees fully tounderstand and value his brother. Meanwhile, she was ever ready tothrow in a little oil when the waters were more than usually troubled.She knew, too, the strength of Amos's religious character, and theweakness of any higher or holier principles in Walter's heart; and shewas sure that the steady consistency of her elder nephew would graduallywin on the generous heart of his brother, spite of himself.
Nothing special had occurred to spoil the harmony of feeling betweenAmos and Walter for some weeks after the unexpected absence of theformer from home; so that the hearts of the brothers were really beingdrawn closer together, notwithstanding natural dissimilarity ofdisposition, and the absence in Walter of that high principle and self-discipline which were moulding his elder brother's character into dailynearer conformity to Him who is the one only perfect pattern ofhumanity.
It was while Walter was thus increasingly becoming sensible of thesuperior beauty of his brother's sterling worth and consistency, and wasat the same time secretly resenting the pressure of that nobler life'sinfluence upon him, being unprepared to follow it out himself and submitto its gentle restraints and self-denial, that a party of friends wasassembled at dinner one summer evening at the Manor-house. MrHuntingdon did not give dinner-parties now as frequently as in happierdays, and his friends and neighbours understood and appreciated thecause; but now and then he felt it to be his duty to entertain hisfriends in the old way; so, on the present occasion, some thirty guestssat down to table.
Among those present were an old Mrs Morse, a widow lady, and herdaughter. The mother was a kind-hearted woman of the world, reasonablywell-to-do, and visited by all the good families in the neighbourhood.She was very anxious to see her daughter, who was her only child, andwas now passing out of her youthful days, well married, as the worldesteems it; so she was very glad of an opportunity of drawing out AmosHuntingdon, whom she looked upon as a worthy, weak, shy, dull young man,rather depressed by his discouraging home surroundings, and not a likelyperson to attract or seek the affections of any young lady who might befortunate enough to combine the allurements of wealth and beauty. Hemight, however, with a little judicious management, be led to look withinterest on her daughter, and would prove, no doubt, an excellenthusband, as he had means of his own, the prospect of inheriting theManor, and was exceedingly amiable, and free from habits ofextravagance. Gladly, therefore, did she avail herself of the presentopportunity to engage Amos in conversation before dinner was announced,expressing, at the same time, her regret that she had so seldom thepleasure of meeting him, and how much it would gratify herself and herdaughter if he would come over now and then and spend a quiet afternoonor evening with them. "You know," she continued, "we are quiet people,and, if report says true, Mr Amos, your own tastes and habits are ofthe quiet sort. We should be so glad to see you in our simple way; andI think we could show you, in the beauties of our charmingneighbourhood, what would really be a pleasure to you and a refreshmentto your mind."
Amos thanked her, and listened with due decorum to a good deal of smalltalk on the old lady's part till dinner was announced, when she socontrived that he should take her daughter down and sit between them.
Walter was seated just opposite his brother, full of life and fun, as hethrew off his gay remarks now on this side and now on that. Suddenly helooked across at Amos, and something in the situation of his brotherbetween the old lady and her daughter struck him as so irresistiblyfunny, that it was with the utmost difficulty that he restrained himselffrom a violent outburst of laughter. And, certainly, to one easilymoved to merriment there was something singularly quaint and almostcomic in the contrast between the subdued but courteous manner of Amos,who was patiently endeavouring to make himself agreeable to his twoimmediate neighbours, and the excited frivolity of Miss Morse's runningfire of worldly commonplaces, occasionally interrupted by her mother'smore staid utterances of a similar character.
Walter thoroughly comprehended the situation, and the reason why suchpains were being taken to draw out his brother; and his satisfaction andamusement were unbounded at the manifest failure of the effort. The oldlady caught Walter's eye, and divining somewhat of the cause of itsmerry twinkle, coloured, and was silent. Her daughter also lookeduneasily across the table, and then exclaimed,--
"Were you at Lady Gambit's garden-party last Tuesday, Mr Walter?"
"No," he replied; "I was not there."
"Then I can tell you that you missed a treat," said the other.
"Why, what was the special attraction?" he asked.
"Oh, everything that you can imagine!"
"Well, I can imagine so many things," said Walter laughing, "that I amquite sure her ladyship's garden could never have held them all. Pray,tell me what you yourself thought _the_ attraction _par excellence_."
"Yes, I can do that. You know these garden-parties are generally ratherdull affairs after all."
"What! with those numberless attractions?"
"Yes; one gets weary of them. You know, go where you will, it's thesame thing over and over again."
"But it seems that it was not so in this case."
"No, it was not. Her ladyship, no doubt, wished to make a littlevariety, and so she was good enough to provide us with something new."
"Dear me!" cried Walter; "how I should have liked being there! What wasthe novelty? Was it a temperance lecture, or a Band of Hope meeting forthe benefit of the old boys and girls of sixty or seventy years of age?That must have been very lively. Or perhaps it was a Protestant addressagainst nunneries and monasteries. My brother Amos would have liked tohave had a word on that subject."
"No, no, Mr Walter; you must not be foolish."
"Well, do tell me. I am all anxiety to know what this attractivenovelty was. Not a conjurer? that would have been capital fun."
"No, not a conjurer exactly."
"Well, then, something of the sort?"
"Yes; Lady Gambit had engaged a celebrated mimic--a man, I mean, who cantake off other people to the life."
"Indeed," said Walter. "Perhaps it might have been as well if he hadtaken himself off. But, excuse my nonsense; what did he mimic?"
"Oh, all sorts of funny people. We all gathered round him under thegreat sycamore tree, and he kept us in peals of laughter for an hour."
"Tell me, please, some of the characters he took off."
"I can remember two especially. One of them was a drunkard, and theother was a hypocrite. In taking off the drunkard he called himself`Mr Adolphus Swillerly.' You never heard anything more amusing in yourlife."
"And the hypocrite?" asked Walter, but with less of amusement in histone.
"Ah, I think that was better still! He assumed the character of `SimonBatter-text;' and he mimicked his preaching, and his praying, and hissighs, and his `ahmens' in a wonderful way. It really was perfect. I'mso sorry you were not there, you would have so thoroughly enjoyed it."
There was a pause, and a general silence, for the attention of the restof the company had been drawn to the subject and the speakers.
"Surely you don't see any harm in a little fun like that?" asked theyoung lady in some dismay, as she noticed that Walter's face and mannerwere troubled as he hesitated in his reply.
All eyes were on him. What should he say? He turned very red; andthen, having helped himself to a glass of wine, he said, carelessly, andwith a short, merry laugh, "Harm! oh, of course not! The man meant noharm; he didn't attack individuals. All the better if he madedrunkenness and hypocrisy ridiculous.--Don't you think so, Amos?"
For a moment his brother hesitated, for every eye was directed towardshim. No one spoke; not a knife nor fork clattered.
"Well, my boy," said his father, "let us have your opinion."
Thus appealed to, Amos no longer hesitated, but said calmly, and in alow distinct voice, heard by every one at the table, "I had rather nothave given my opinion; but, when I am thus openly appealed to, I mustnot shrink from expressing it. I think it wrong, utterly wrong, toridicule sin in any shape or form. To put sin in a funny light is notthe way to make us hate it as we ought to do. Our Saviour never madelight or a jest of sin; and I believe that the man who mimicked adrunkard and a hypocritical preacher had no love for either sobriety orholiness."
The profoundest silence reigned while Amos uttered these words. Atfirst his voice had trembled, but it immediately became perfectly firm,and a quiet peace rested on his sweet face as he finished. A suddenchill seemed to have fallen on most of the party. Some shrugged theirshoulders, some smiled, others looked annoyed. Mrs Morse and herdaughter exchanged looks of bewilderment behind Amos's back. Walter,with feelings of mingled shame and vexation, glanced at the bright faceof his aunt, whose eyes swam with grateful tears. Then he glanced down:her hands were crossed; yes, he knew that it would be so. And how feltMr Huntingdon? To the surprise of all, and of none more than Amoshimself, he exclaimed, "That's right, Amos; you've spoken out like aman, and I believe you are right."
For a while there was silence; then a gentleman near the squire's end ofthe table asked his next neighbour, "What sort of a looking man was thissame mimic? I believe you were at Lady Gambit's."
"Yes, I was there," replied the other. "I can't say much in his favour.He was not a bad-looking fellow,--black hair, if it was his own, blackpiercing eyes, and a black beard. I can't imagine where her ladyshippicked him up."
"But _I_ can," said a gentleman opposite. "He is some strolling player.He got, it would seem, access to Lady Gambit's ear in some underhandway; and he has done now what our young friend Walter suggested a littlewhile ago that he might as well have done sooner. Having taken otherpeople off, he has taken himself off also, and has contrived to carrysome twenty pounds of her ladyship's money with him, which he managed toswindle her out of; and the police are on the look-out for him. I heardthat only this morning from the sergeant himself."
Poor Amos! how terribly his heart sank within him when he heard thesewords! Yes; he could have little doubt about it. This mimic andswindler, he felt assured, was none other than his own brother-in-law.Happily, however, he was pretty sure to be now out of the neighbourhood,and was not likely to show himself soon again. But what of his unhappywife? Alas! Amos dreaded to think what the unprincipled man might dowith or against her.
Glad, heartily glad, were both the brothers when the dinner was over,and the rest of the evening, after "dragging its slow length along," hadat last come to an end. Walter, indeed, rattled away in the drawing-room to every one's content but his own. Still, a chill had fallen onmore than one of the party; and as for poor Mrs Morse and her daughter,after endeavouring to make themselves agreeable by gusts which werefollowed by portentous lulls, they were glad to order their carriage andtake their departure at the earliest hour consistent with politeness.
And now, when all the guests had taken leave, and Miss Huntingdon hadretired to her room, happy in the prospect of coming rest, she heard asort of half scuffle at her door, followed by a knock. Then in cameWalter, dragging in some one after him who was evidently reluctant to bethus introduced. "Can you, oh, can you, dear aunt, spare me--ay, spare_us_,--that means me and Amos, or, rather, it ought to be Amos and me,--just a few minutes? Amos doesn't want to come, just like his unselfishself, but I do. No, I don't want to tire you after all your fatigues,but I can't go to sleep till I have had a word from you. If you don'tlet me stop, if you don't say that word, I shall lie awake all night,thinking of those hands--not _cross_, for their owner is never cross,but _crossed_--those crossed hands. Or if I do go to sleep, I shall donothing but dream of them. So pray let me stop; and Amos must stoptoo."
The permission to remain having been cheerfully granted, Walter hauledhis brother into a chair, and then, stooping over him, kissed hisforehead. Then he flung himself on his knees and looked up wistfullyinto Miss Huntingdon's face. Oh, how entirely did she forget allweariness, as she marked the effect that Walter's kiss had on hisbrother; how it brought tears from those eyes which had long knownlittle of weeping except for sorrow.
"Well, dear boy," she said, "and what would you have with me now?"
"Ah! auntie, I want those hands to talk to me, and I want Amos to hearthem talk. I want you to tell us both some of your moral courageanecdotes; they will strengthen him and be a lesson to me; for I don'twant you to tell me this time that I was wrong. There sits the braveman, here kneels the coward."
"Dear, dear boy," was Miss Huntingdon's reply, with a warm embrace,"yes; what you say is true. It _did_ require true moral courage tospeak up as Amos did, at such a time and before so many; and we havesome noble instances on record of such a courage under somewhat similarcircumstances, and these show us that conduct like this will forcerespect, let the world say and think what it pleases. I have two orthree heroes to bring forward on this topic, but I must be brief, as thehour is late.
"You remember Frederick the Great, as he was called. Alas! he was greatin infidelity as well as in war; and he delighted to gather round himthose who shared in the same unbelieving views. God and his truth weresubjects of ridicule with them; and a bold man indeed would he be whowould venture to say in their presence a word in favour of the gospel orof respect for its divine Author. But there was such a one amongstthose who had the privilege of sitting at the king's table; an old grey-headed man of rank, who had fought his country's battles nobly, andwhose wise counsels in state affairs were highly prized by hissovereign. He was dining one day at the palace, and saw all round himnone but those who made a mock of sin and religion. The conversationflowed freely, and the smart jests of Frederick called forth similarflashes of wit from his different guests. The subject of Christianitysoon came up, and was immediately handled in the most profane and bitterstyle by the king and those around him. No wit is so cheap as profanewit; for the devil seems to give a special facility of sarcasm to thosewho attack God's truth; and, besides that, there seems nothing whichungodly men relish so much, for giving point to their blasphemies, asScripture facts or words misquoted, misappli
ed, or parodied. So thegospel and its Founder were bandied from tongue to tongue as a theme forunholy mirth. But presently there was a pause and a dead silence; forthe grey-headed old soldier, who had sat perfectly silent and deeplypained, as he listened to the unhallowed talk of his companions, rose tohis feet, his face flushed, and his hoary head bowed down. What wascoming now?
"`May it please your majesty,' the old man began, while the tears randown his cheeks, and his voice was troubled, `I have always, as I amsure you will acknowledge, behaved with due respect to your majestywhenever in your majesty's presence; nor can any one here say that hehas ever heard me speak evil of your majesty behind your back. Yourmajesty knows, also, that I have endeavoured to serve you faithfully onthe field and in the council-chamber. You must therefore bear with mewhile I say that I cannot sit patiently by and hear your majesty joinwith your friends in speaking evil of the dearest friend I have, onedearer to me than my life, and whom I must hold in greater honour thaneven your majesty. I mean my Saviour and heavenly King, the Lord JesusChrist. Pardon me, therefore, your majesty, if I ask leave to withdrawat once.'
"Just imagine, dear boys, such a speech in such a company, for to sucheffect were the words spoken by that noble old soldier of the Cross.Ah! it is comparatively easy to stand up for the truth in our day andcountry, because religion is now universally respected by all people ofgood sense and refinement, even by those who do not follow it; andanything like an open attack upon Christianity, in a mixed company,would be frowned upon by society as being ungentlemanly and in badtaste. But it was not so in Frederick's court, where a profession ofinfidel opinions was almost held to be an essential in one who wouldmake any pretension to intellectual acuteness. And the old officer knewthis well. He knew the scorn which would glare upon him from the eyesof the other guests. He expected nothing but sneering pity, where suchsentiments as his own could not be visited with a severer penalty. Buthe did not hang back through fear of man. He could say, as David saysin the Psalms, `I will speak of thy testimonies even before kings, andwill not be ashamed.' Was he not a true moral hero, dear Walter?"
"An out-and-out one, dear aunt," was his reply. "But what did the kingsay to this?"
"The king behaved on this occasion like a king and a man. Poor king, hewas not without a heart that could, at times, feel as it ought to do.He at once turned to the faithful old servant of the great Master, and,checking all attempts at ridicule or retort in the other guests, assuredhim that he thoroughly respected and appreciated his feelings andmotives and his present conduct, and that never again would he himselfsay anything against the old man's faith nor his Saviour while he wasby, nor would he suffer any who might be with him to do so."
"Hip, hip, hurrah!" said Walter. "The old man got the best of it afterall; and so will my brother Amos here, spite of his having such anunworthy coward of a brother as poor Walter. But you have anotherexample for us, auntie; nothing like knocking the nail on the head. Ifeel better already, and mean to be a perfect moral lion for bravery infuture; at least I hope so."
"I hope so too, Walter," said his aunt with a smile. "I will give you,then, one other instance of the same sort of moral courage, but takenfrom quite a different country, and occurring in our own days; and thenI think we shall have had lessons enough for to-night. My hero thistime is an American, and a young man too.
"You will have heard of the remarkable revival which took place in thatcountry, I mean in the United States, some few years since. Of course,at such seasons there will be a mixture of good and evil. Not all whomake a profession will stand firm; while those who have been merelycarried along by the current of excitement will return at last to theworld, from which they have never really separated themselves, when theexcitement has passed away. But, indeed, a great and lasting work forGod was accomplished in that revival, and the young man I am speakingabout was one of the fruits of it.
"He had been living a very gay and thoughtless life. I am not sure thathe had been indulging in any openly sinful practices; but, at any rate,he had been giving himself up wholly to the pursuit of this world. Hewas in a good social position, and possessed of abundant means.Moreover, he had received a good education, so far as mere learningwent, and was of pleasing and popular manners. The last thing he wouldhave thought of would have been turning a Christian. But God, whosethoughts are not as our thoughts, had better things in store for him.The revival wave swept over the neighbourhood where he was, and carriedhim along with it. His heart, his views, his aims were all reallychanged; he was, indeed and in truth, a new creature. And now he feltthat he must not hide his colours, he must nail them to the mast, or,rather, he must wrap them round him that, go where he might, every onemight see them. His was that thorough-going, energetic, outspeakingdisposition which has accomplished such marvellous earthly thingsthrough so many of his fellow-countrymen. He was not the person to doanything by halves.
"Before his conversion, himself and several other young men, of liketastes and habits, used to meet weekly at one another's houses, in turn,for card-playing and carousing; and at these meetings he used to be thevery life of the party, the gayest of the gay. But what should he donow? It would be no easy matter to confess to his young associates thechange that had taken place in his heart. What would they think andsay? Perhaps he might let it get known by degrees, and then he couldjust absent himself from the old gatherings, and merely drop out of asociety no longer congenial to him. This would save him a great deal ofshame and reproach. Would not this be as much as could be reasonablyexpected of him, and sufficient to show his sincerity and consistency?It might have satisfied ordinary characters, but it did not satisfy him.He wanted to be doing something at once for the Master, and to beginwith those very young men who had been his companions in sin. So hesent round his printed invitations to every one of them to a gatheringin his own house. Such had been the custom with all the members oftheir fraternity. But this time the invitation was no longer to `Teaand Cards,' but to `Tea and Prayer.' It was, indeed, a bold stroke, butit was not the act of the moment from mere impulse or excitement.
"The day of meeting came. A few of his old acquaintances arrived, some,it may be, out of curiosity, or supposing that the `Prayer' was only ajoke. But none were left in doubt. Plainly, lovingly, faithfully, heset before them how the change had been wrought in himself, and howhappy it had made him; and then he affectionately urged them all to takethe same course as he had done. And I believe that his noble andcourageous dealing was not in vain. Am I wrong, Walter, in classingthat young American gentleman among my moral heroes?"
"No, dear aunt, certainly not," replied her nephew thoughtfully. "Ithink he deserves a foremost place;--don't you, Amos?"
"Yes," replied his brother; "he reminds me of the greatest, perhaps, ofall moral heroes--I mean, of course, among beings like ourselves. I amthinking of the apostle Paul, who changed at once from the persecutor tothe preacher; gave up every earthly honour and advantage; braved thebitter scorn of his old friends; and, without hesitation, beganimmediately publicly to proclaim the gospel which he had before been madto destroy."
Walter held out his hand to his brother, and the clasp was a close andmutual one; and then, hand in hand, they left their aunt, who laid herhead on her pillow that night with deep thankfulness in her heart, forshe saw that, spite of all drawbacks, there was a good work makingprogress in Walter, and that the high and holy character of the true andtried disciple of the Saviour was gaining strength and beauty in theonce despised and misunderstood Amos.