CHAPTER XXII.
NEW LINES OF WORK.
BUT Alice hesitated. The subject, whatever it was that she wanted totalk about, evidently had its embarrassing side. Now that Claire satin expectant silence, she grew silent too, and looked down, and toyedwith the fringe of her wrap, her face in a frown that indicated eitherperplexity or distrust.
"I don't know why I should come to you," she said, at last, speakinghalf-angrily; "I suppose I am a simpleton, and shall get little thanksfor any interference, yet it certainly seems to me as though somethingought to be done, and as though you might do it."
"If there is any way in which I can help you," Claire said, "you hardlyneed to have me say how glad I shall be to do so."
"Would you, I wonder? Would you help in a perplexity that seems tome to be growing into a downright danger, and which I more than halfsuspect you could avert?"
There was something so significant in her tone, that Claire looked ather in wonderment for a moment, then said, choosing her words with care:
"You surely know that I would be only too glad to help you in any waythat was right, and of course you would not ask me to do anything thatI thought wrong."
"Oh, I'm not so sure of that. You have such peculiar ideas of right andwrong. They are not according to my standard, I presume. How I wish Iknew, without telling you, just what you would think right; it wouldsettle several questions for me, or else it would unsettle me, for Imight not want to do what was right, you see, any more than you wouldwant to do what was wrong."
"I am not a witch," said Claire, lightly, "and I confess that I have nomore idea what you mean than if you were speaking in Sanscrit. Supposeyou speak English for a few minutes, my friend, and enlighten me."
"I will, presently. I want to ask you a few general questions first,which have nothing special to do with the question at hand. Would youmarry a man who was not a Christian?"
"No," said Claire, wondering, startled yet nevertheless prompt enoughwith her answer; "that is, I do not now see how I could. In the firstplace, I would not be likely to have the opportunity; for I couldnot be sufficiently interested in a man who had no sympathy with mein these vital questions, to ever reach the point as to my possibleopportunities and duties."
"Oh, well, that doesn't materially enlighten me. You see I am talkingabout people who _could_ become sufficiently interested to reach agreat many questionings, and not know what to do with them. Let mesuppose a case. We will say the people live in China, and becomedeeply interested in each other. In the course of time one of themgoes to the Fiji Islands for instance, and meets a missionary, andcomes somewhat under her influence--enough, we will say, to make heruncomfortable and to make her suspect that she is a good deal of aheathen herself, though she was a member in good and regular standingof a church in China. To make the circumstances more interesting youmay suppose that one of the converted heathen begins to interesthimself in her, and to enlighten her as to the power of genuinereligion over the heathen heart and mind to such an extent that sheis almost sure she knows nothing about it experimentally; and at thesame time has a yearning desire to know and to receive the mysterious_something_ which she discovers in this one. We will also suppose thatshe receives letters from China occasionally, which show her that theother party has met neither missionary nor heathen to impress him inany way, and that his plans and determinations are all of the earthand decidedly earthy, and yet that he is disposed to think that thelady ought to be thinking about returning to China, and joining himin his effort to have a good time. What, in your estimation, ought thehalf-awakened Fiji resident to do?"
"Alice, is some not very distant city representing China? and is SouthPlains Fiji? and is Bud the converted heathen?"
"There is enough witch about you to have secured you a very warmexperience in the olden days. Never mind translating, if you please;this was not to be in English. What ought the Fiji to do?"
"I should think there could be no question. A half-awakened personwould still be in danger of dropping back into darkness, and should, assurely as she believes in the petition, 'lead me not into temptation,'guard against anything that would be a contradiction to that prayer."
"Well, but suppose this half-awakened person were married to the partyin China--what then?"
"That would be a very different matter. The irrevocable vows would havebeen taken before the world; the 'until death do you part' would havebeen accepted, and there would be no liberty of choice."
"I don't see the reasoning clearly. Suppose a person should take avow to commit murder, and announce her determination before the worldto do so, with as solemn a vow as you please, ought her conscienceto hold her? Not," she added, with a slight and embarrassed laugh,"that I would put the idea of murder as a parallel case with the otherimagining. I don't mean anything, you know, by all this, I am simplydealing with some imaginary people in China."
But Claire did not smile, and held herself carefully to the analogy ofthe illustration:
"You are supposing a moral impossibility, Alice. No one would beallowed to take a public and solemn oath to commit murder. The veryoath would be a violation of the laws of God and of the land; but inthe other case, the oath taken professes to be in keeping with God'srevealed will and with the demands of respectable society. Surely, yousee what an infinite difference this would make."
"Ah, yes, of course. Well, I'll suppose one thing more. For purposes ofconvenience, let us have these two people engaged to each other, butthe pledge not consummated before the public--what then?"
But over this question Claire kept a troubled silence.
"I do not know," she said, at last; "I am not sure how that ought tobe answered. Perhaps it is one of the things which each individual iscalled upon to answer for himself, or herself, taking it to God forspecial light. A betrothal seems to me a very solemn thing, not to beeither entered into, or broken, lightly, and yet I can conceive ofcircumstances wherein it would be right to break the pledge--where itwas wrong ever to have made it--and two wrongs cannot make a right,you know. But Alice, this is dangerous ground. I am almost inclined tothink it is ground where a third party, on the human side, should notintermeddle; at least, unless it is one who has far more wisdom than I.It is not possible for me to advise you in this."
"You _have_ advised me," Alice said, with exceeding gravity. "All Iwanted was your individual opinion, and that you have given plainly,though you may not be aware of it. When one knows one is doing a thingthat is wrong, I suppose the time has come to draw back."
"If the drawing back can right the wrong."
"It can help toward it. These people--who live in China, remember--areperhaps among those who ought never to have made the pledge. However,let us drop them. I want to talk to you about a more important matter."
Still she did not talk, but relapsed again into troubled silence, andClaire, not knowing what to say, waited, and said nothing.
"Would you marry a man, if you thought you might possibly be the meansof saving his soul?"
Claire was startled and a trifle disturbed to think that theconversation was still to run in a channel with which she was sounfamiliar. Still, this first question was comparatively easy to dealwith.
"That might depend on whether I could do so without assuming falsevows. I could not promise a lie for the sake of saving any soul.Besides, it being wrong in itself, I would have no reason to hope thatit would be productive of any good, for God does not save souls bymeans which are sinful. Why do you ask me all these questions, Alice?I have no experience, and am not wise. I wish you would seek a bettercounselor."
"Never mind, I have all the counsel I desire. I am not talking aboutthose people in China any more, though you think I am. I was thinkingof you, and of somebody who is in danger, and whom I believe you couldsave, but I know you won't--at least not in that way. Claire Benedict,I am troubled about my brother. Tell me this, do you know that he is indanger?"
"Yes," said Claire, her voice low and troubled.
"Do y
ou know from what source I mean?"
"I think I do."
"I thought you did else I am not sure that my pride would have allowedme to open my lips. Well, do you know there is something you might doto help him?"
"Alice."
"No, you are not to interrupt me. I don't mean anything insulting.There are ways of which I would be more sure, and they are connectedwith you, but I know they are out of the question. I am not going totalk of them. But there is something I want you to do. I want you totalk with mamma. It is of no use for me to say a word to her. There arefamily reasons why she is specially vexed with me just now, and willnot listen reasonably to anything that I might say. But she respectsyou, and likes you, and you have more or less influence over her. Areyou willing to use it for Louis' sake?"
"But, my dear Alice, I do not understand you in the least. What could Isay to your mother that she does not already know? and in any case, howcould she materially help your brother? He needs the help of his ownwill."
"That is true, but there are ways in which mamma might help him,if she would. I can tell you of some. In the first place, you aremistaken as to her knowledge. She knows, it is true, that he takes morewine occasionally than is good for him, and has violent headaches inconsequence; but she does not know that two nights in a week, at least,he comes home intoxicated! Isn't that a terrible thing to say of one'sbrother? What has become of the Ansted pride, when I can say it toalmost a stranger?"
"Why does not your mother know?"
"Partly because she is blind, and partly because I have promised Louisnot to tell her, and partly because there are reasons why it wouldbe especially hard on my mother to have this knowledge brought toher through me. You see there are reasons enough. Now for what shecould do. Claire, she fairly drives him into temptation. There is acertain house in the city which she is very anxious to see united toours. She contrives daily pretexts for sending Louis there, and it isalmost impossible for him to go there without coming home the worsefor liquor. I _wish_ I could talk more plainly to you. I will tell youthis. There is a brother as well as a sister in that house, and it hasbeen a pet dream of my mother to exchange the sons and daughters. Itis a romantic, Old World scheme, grown up with the families from theirearly days; and mamma, who has never been accustomed to having herplans thwarted, is in danger of seeing all of these come to naught, andmore than half believes that I am plotting against it for Louis, havingfirst shown myself to be an undutiful and ungrateful daughter. Do yousee how entirely my tongue is silenced? I wonder if you do understand?"
"I understand, my dear friend, and I thank you for your confidence;but I do not see how a stranger can help, or indeed, can interfere inany way, without being guilty of gross rudeness. How could I hope toapproach your mother on such subjects as these, without having her feelherself insulted?"
Alice made a gesture of impatience.
"You _can not_," she said, "if you think more of the irritable wordsthat a troubled mother may say to you than you do of a soul in peril;but I did not think you were of that sort."
Claire waited a moment before replying.
"I think I may be trusted to try to do what seems right, even thoughit were personally hard," she said at last, speaking very gently;"but, Alice, I do not understand how words of mine could do other thanmischief."
"I can show you. This family, I have told you, is a continual snareto Louis. He simply can not go there without being led into greattemptation, and mamma is responsible for the most of his visits. Itwould not be difficult for Louis to remain away, if mamma did not makeerrands for him. He would go abroad with the Husons next week, andbe safe from this and many other temptations, or he would go to theRocky Mountains with Harold Chessney--and he could not be in bettersociety--if mamma would give her consent, and she would, if she couldbe made to realize his peril--if she knew that outsiders were talkingabout it. Don't you see?
"Now, who is going to enlighten her? I am not in favor--less so justat present than ever before; the girls, poor young things, do not knowof our disgrace, and would have no influence with mamma if they did,and papa would like the alliance from a business point of view as wellas mamma would from a romantic and fashionable one. Do you see theaccumulation of troubles? and do you imagine, I wonder, what it is to_me_, when I have humbled myself to tell it all to you?"
"And this young lady?" said Claire, ignoring the personal questions."Do you feel sure that there is no hope of help from that source? Isnot her interest deep enough and her influence strong enough to come tothe rescue if she fully understood?"
There was again that gesture of extreme impatience.
"That young lady! She has no more character than a painted doll! ClaireBenedict, she is in as great danger to-day as Louis is, and from thesame source! She dances every night, and buoys up her flagging strengthby stimulants every day. I have seen her repeatedly when she was soexcited with wine that I knew she did not know what she was saying."
"Is it possible!" This was Claire's startled exclamation.
"It is not only possible, but is an almost daily occurrence. And shefills the glass with her own silly little hand, which trembles at themoment with the excitement of wine, and holds it to my brother, and he,poor, foolish boy! accepts it because he knows that he likes it betterthan anything else in the world--at least, that is attainable. Claire,if my mother could be prevailed upon to urge Louis to go away withHarold Chessney, I believe he might be saved."
"Who is Harold Chessney?"
"He is one of God's saints, made for the purpose of showing us what aman might be, if he would. Claire Benedict, will you try?"