CHAPTER IV.
THE RIDE TO STAVEMOOR.
A month after Aleck's arrival at Braycombe, it seemed so perfectlynatural to have him with us--he had fitted so completely into theposition of companion, play-fellow, school-fellow, brother--that I couldscarcely fancy how it felt before he came.
My uncle and aunt had left us after a fortnight's visit, and were now onthe Continent. The parting was hard work--harder, I fancy, to them thanto him, for boys soon get over trouble, whereas it was plain to see inmy aunt's wistful eyes that it was a sore trial to her to leave herchild behind. I believe that she did not anticipate, in as sanguine aspirit as did her husband, the happy meeting again that was talked offor the spring, after a winter in Madeira.
It was a subject of great thankfulness, to both my uncle and aunt, thatAleck and I had formed such a friendship for each other. They hadscarcely driven from the door, and Aleck's eyes were still wet withtears, when he told me that he did not think he could be so happyanywhere away from his papa and mamma as at Braycombe, with me for hiscompanion; and I answered by assuring him I should never be happy againif he were to go away from me.
We soon settled down into our school-room occupations together. Mr.Glengelly, who used to come three times in the week, now came daily,staying for the whole morning, and leaving us always lessons to preparefor the next day. Aleck and I spent almost the whole of our play-timedown at the Cove; his passionate enjoyment of everything connected withthe sea continuing in full force, whilst two or three times every weekwe had walks, rides, or drives with one or both of my parents.
Aleck could ride beautifully, having been accustomed to it at his ownhome, and I was delighted to lend him my pony from time to time--moreready at first, if the truth is to be told, than afterwards. He alsolearned to row, though not so quickly nor so easily as I should haveexpected; and feathering remained an impossible mystery to him, being,as he said, more than could be expected from his clumsy fingers.
In this one point--that of being unskilful in the use of hishands--Aleck was below the mark; in lessons he was far my superior,being, as I soon found, more than his year ahead of me. But, oddlyenough, as it seemed to me, it was always in matters requiring skilledfingers that he was anxious to excel. He was never tired of playing atsailing the "Fair Alice," but would daily, before we launched her,examine afresh all the different parts of the little vessel, and sighover the neatness of their workmanship, and ask himself and myselfwhether it were possible he should ever be able to make a ship like it.Various abortive attempts were to be seen in our play-room--pieces ofwood cut, and shaped, and thrown away in disgust; but as yet he made noprogress towards anything like skill in carpentry. The old play-boat ofmine which I had given, to him afforded very little pleasure: it was notlike a real vessel. Having seen the "Fair Alice," anything that fellshort of it gave him no satisfaction. It added greatly to the pleasurewhich I had always felt in this possession, to see how ardently mycousin admired it, and how much he thought of the title of _captain_,which, as owner, had been playfully adjudged to me.
I scarcely know when it was that the feeling first began to steal overme that I was not always quite so glad as I had been at first that mycousin was living with us. It was an unworthy feeling, and I feltashamed to confess it to myself; but there it was, and I discovered itat last.
Perhaps it was because of his quickness at lessons; perhaps because,from time to time in his turn, enjoyments which could not be shared byboth were permitted to him--I had only the half, where before I shouldhave had the whole; perhaps it was all this together, combined with thesecret evils I had not hitherto found out in my own heart anddisposition; but the result was, that I had now and then such miserablemoments of being angry, and provoked, and unhappy, not because my cousinhad done anything unkind, but simply because he had, in someunintentional manner, interfered with my pleasure, that I was ready towish I had never had a cousin, or that he had never come to Braycombe.
It is not to be supposed that this was my settled, constant state ofmind. Far from it. In general, we two boys were as frisky, and merry,and happy with each other, as boys could be; but these dark feelingscame and went, and came and went, until I began to be less surprised atthem than when I first found them out. For some time my mother had noidea of their existence. To all outward appearance we were just as wehad been in the early days of our friendship; and if I did not so oftenenlarge upon the happiness of having Aleck to live with me, I know nowthat she only put it down to the novelty of the companionship wearingoff. I remember quite distinctly the first time that she noticed somelittle indication of the secret mischief that was going on. It was thetime of afternoon preparation of lessons for the following morning, andI was sitting with my books before me at the school-room table, writinga Latin exercise; or perhaps it would be more correct to say, _not_writing my Latin exercise, for my pen had stopped half-way to theink-bottle, and my chin was resting on my left hand and my elbow on thetable, and I was indulging uninterruptedly in my own reflections, whenthe door opened, and my mother entered the room.
"Where's Aleck?" was her first inquiry, as she looked round and saw thatI was alone.
"He's been gone five minutes," I replied, without raising my eyes, andin a tone which I meant to convey--and, I am aware, did convey--that Iwas in no pleasant mood.
"How's that?" rejoined my mother, taking no notice of my manner. "Aleckwas told not to leave the school-room until his lessons were finished.He knows my rule, and is not generally disobedient. I must go and seeabout him. Where is he?"
"In his room, I suppose"--still in my former sulky manner; and, withoutfurther words, my mother left the room, and went in search of mycousin. I presently heard her voice calling to him at the foot of thestair-case leading to our rooms, and Aleck's voice more distantlyreplying to her. As, however, he did not immediately appear, I heardafterwards that she had gone up-stairs, and found him pulling down hissleeves and shaking off pieces of wood, and generally endeavouring torender his appearance respectable; which was made the more difficult as,in the course of his operations, he had dipped his elbow in theglue-pot, and was considerably embarrassed by the fringe of shavingswhich he was unable to detach.
"I'm coming as fast as I can, auntie," he said, pulling at the shavings,and giving himself a rub with a duster in hopes that would make himright.
"But, Aleck, how is it you're not in the school-room?" said my mother."I have just seen Willie there alone. You know the rule about notleaving until lessons are finished. I fear that you have been temptedaway too soon by your ship-building tastes."
"Did not Willie tell you I had finished my lessons?" said Aleck,quickly. "Oh, auntie, I would not have left before."
"Really finished, Aleck? Take care to be quite honest with yourself, forindeed you've had but short time."
"Really and truly, auntie. I tried to be very quick to-day, because I doso want to get on with this last ship I've begun. It seems coming morelike than the others. See, the stern is very like a real one."
My mother carefully inspected the unshapely block upon which my cousinwas at work, gave him a word or two of advice upon the subject, and camedown-stairs again to me; having decided in her own mind, as sheafterwards told me, to be present the next morning when Mr. Glengellycame, and notice whether Aleck's work had been thoroughly prepared.
"How soon shall you have finished, my child?" she said, laying her handsoftly on my shoulder, and bending down to inspect my writing. "Let mesee what there is to be done."
"This exercise, and the verb to be learned, and my sum"--very grumpily.
"And how much have you done already?"
"Part of the exercise--not quite half; and I'm doing the verb now; andthe sum is finished, all but the proving."
My lip was quivering as I completed the list of what I had achieved, andI was as nearly bursting into tears as possible.
My mother's loving, pleasant way staved off the sulky fit, however.
"These lessons begun, and not one of them fin
ished off!" she exclaimed."Let us see how long they will take you. First the exercise, we willallow a quarter of an hour for that; five minutes will prove your sum;and the verb, an old one you say and very nearly perfect, two minutesfor that: less than twenty-five minutes, Willie, and you will be soperfectly prepared that you will be longing for ten o'clock to-morrow,and Mr. Glengelly to come, all the rest of the evening."
I could not help laughing at the notion of my pining for Mr. Glengelly'sarrival, and a laugh is an excellent stepping-stone out of the sulks. Mymother put her watch on the table, and stayed in the room, helping me byquiet sympathizing superintendence, and I set to work with suchearnestness that I had completed my tasks in twenty minutes, and was offto the play-room without a trace of my wrong temper, as eager to join mycousin in the carpentry as if nothing had gone wrong between us, andonly rejoicing that my lessons were over at last, without troublingmyself to remember that the trial of Aleck's being so much quicker thanmyself at his studies was sure to recur again and again, and that,unless my dislike to his superiority could be conquered and stamped out,I should soon find every-day trouble in my every-day work.
And in truth the conquering and stamping out of such feelings as theseis no easy task. It is unquestionably a real trial to find that workwhich takes you an hour's hard labour can be accomplished by yourcompanion in not much more than half the time; that even though thelessons are apportioned so as to give him the heavier burden, he canalways dispose of the heavier more readily than you can of the lighter.In my own case, Aleck was often very good-natured, and would linger in_his_ work to give me a help in _mine_; or purposely keep pace with me,so that we might go out to play together. But this was not always theway; when he was very eagerly engaged in any play-time occupation, hewould bend all his energies to getting his tasks finished off quickly,and then hurry away, without appearing in the least troubled that Icould not accompany him. Upon which occasions I thought him selfish andunfeeling, and was inclined not a little to regret that he had ever cometo Braycombe.
The worst of it was, that though I knew I was wrong, I could not mustercourage to speak to either of my parents about it; no, not even in thatmoment of deepest confidence when my mother looked in to wish megood-night before I went to sleep, and sat, as she was wont to do, uponmy bed talking to me about the various things which had happened duringthe day.
Many a time, on such occasions, I thought of telling her my troubles,but was afraid lest she should think me very naughty; so I tried at lastto persuade myself there was not much to tell after all.
Half an hour spent with us in the school-room the next morning convincedmy mother that Aleck's work had been well done. I fancy that she watchedme a little closely for a few days, but I happened to be speciallyprosperous in my lessons, and nothing occurred to disturb my serenity,so that she dismissed after a time the anxiety which had begun to arisein her mind concerning me.
As for Aleck, he had no notion of the real state of things. I am sure hemust have thought me selfish and cross very often, but almost as oftenhe would win me into good temper again; and his own temperament wasnaturally so bright and sunshiny, that trouble never seemed to remainlong with him.
It was about a fortnight later that I was sitting, after breakfast, inmy father's study doing my arithmetic. Our school-room adjoined thestudy, and it was not an unfrequent arrangement, that whilst Aleck didhis construing with Mr. Glengelly, I should take in my slate to myfather's room and do my sums. I fancy he liked to have me with him; forwhenever he was at home he would look up with quite a pleased expressionwhen, after knocking at the door, I appeared with my slate and made theusual inquiry whether I should disturb him if I came in just then; andwould tell me that I never disturbed him, and bid me show him my sumbefore I returned to the school-room, when he had always some pleasantremark to make upon it.
I then was sitting on my favourite seat in the window working atcompound division, when my mother came into the room.
"I've been thinking," she said to my father, "that it's a pity both theboys should not go with you to Stavemoor: if you could manage withoutRickson, or let him ride one of the carriage horses, I think you mighttrust Aleck on the gray."
I listened to every word, my pencil going slowly and more slowly, whilstI put down three times nine, twenty-seven--two, carry seven; and washopelessly wrong afterwards in consequence. This ride to Stavemoor was aspecial pleasure in prospect. Both Aleck and I had wanted to go; but thepony being mine, I had taken it as a matter of course that I should bethe one chosen, and my cousin had not thought of questioning my rights.But now to hear my mother quietly proposing, not only that Aleck shouldgo, but that he should ride the gray--it was a sore trial to myfeelings: that gray had for months been the object of my ambition, but Ihad not been thought a good enough rider to be trusted, and now that mycousin should be thus promoted was hard to bear.
The colour mounted to my face when I heard the proposition, and then myfather's answer:--
"I am not sure about it; and yet the boy is at home in the saddle, andhas a firm seat. I'll speak to Rickson. Aleck's been looking pale oflate, and I think more rides than he can get when there's only the ponybetween the two boys, would do him good."
"Papa," I said, with quivering lip and reproachful voice, "you've neverlet _me_ ride the gray. It's always Aleck now--he gets everything, itdoesn't seem to matter about me."
My father gave one quick glance of surprise and consternation at mymother, and then turned to me:--
"Willie! my own little Willie!" he said, pausing as if for anexplanation, and putting out his hand in a manner that meant I was tocome to his side, which I did rather slowly.
"I've so often asked you to let me ride the gray, papa, and you've neverallowed it, and now you're going to let Aleck. I don't want to go toStavemoor--Aleck may have the pony; I wish I had said so at first; Idon't want to ride the pony, and have him on the gray." And thereupon,almost frightened by the evident distress my sentiments had occasioned,I burst into a passionate fit of crying, which permitted only a few morebroken words to the effect that I wished Aleck had never come toBraycombe; I hated his being there; and that my parents were very unkindto care for him more than they did for me.
My father held me there at his side whilst I sobbed and cried as if sometremendous calamity had overtaken me. I knew without looking up, which Iwas ashamed to do, that his eyes were resting upon me with an expressionof sad surprise; and the silence became perfectly unbearable. He spokeat last:--
"My poor little Willie," he said, "what sad feelings you have allowed tocreep into your heart! how unhappy they will make you! You have saidvery wrong words, my child, and I cannot tell you how much pain you havecaused to me and your mamma. I hope that you will be very sorryby-and-by; but you know, Willie, being sorry will not undo your fault,nor take away the envious feelings which you have allowed to spring upwithin you; and unless such feelings as these are conquered you will bean unhappy little boy, and grow up to be an unhappy man. Willie," headded, after another pause only interrupted by my struggling sobs atlonger intervals than at first, "you know, my child, whose strength youwill need to help you in the battle: you are but a weak little boy, andcannot help yourself; you must pray for the help of God's Holy Spirit,or else you will never conquer these wrong feelings."
I hung my head, and remained silent.
"I trust Aleck knows nothing of all this," resumed my father. "We havepromised to care for him as though he belonged to us. I will not allowhim to feel that he is disliked by the boy who promised to love him."
"No, papa," I put in, for my temper had well-nigh expended itself; "Ido like him still--rather--only not always. I like him very muchsometimes: I think now I'm very glad he came--only I don't like hishaving things that I mayn't have."
"That, Willie," answered my father, "must be left to me to decide. Ishall miss my little boy very much this afternoon; but I cannot allowyou to come to Stavemoor with me to-day, after all that has passed."
There was just
this ray of comfort in the announcement, that at leastAleck would not on this particular occasion gain the object of myambition.
"Is Aleck to ride my pony, then?" I inquired, half ashamed of myself forasking.
The quick, decided manner, in which my father withdrew the arm he heldaround me, and answered,--
"Certainly not, unless I find Rickson thinks the gray would be unsafe,"made me feel more unhappy than ever; and it was with a sorrowful heartthat I obeyed a summons to the school-room brought in at that moment bymy cousin, and showed up my incorrect and unfinished sum to Mr.Glengelly.
I suppose that he saw something had gone wrong with me, by myappearance; he was certainly more merciful than usual over myshortcomings in arithmetic, and the lesson-time went by so pleasantlythat I was quite in good humour by the time it ended, and went out inrestored spirits for the half hour's exercise which preceded our dinner,determining that, the first moment I could see my father, I would tellhim I was sorry, revoke what I had said about Aleck, and ride my pony toStavemoor.
In furtherance of these views, I ran round by the stables, and findingthat only Peter the Great and the gray had been ordered, told Rickson inconfidence that I had said to my father in the morning I would rathernot ride; but, having changed my mind since then, he was to be sure andbe ready to send round the pony as well.
Aleck, in the meantime, heard of the treat in store for him, and wasgreatly elated, chattering briskly during dinner about the expedition,without any idea that I was likely to be left behind.
My father was not a great luncheon eater, and when very busy, wouldoften only have a glass of wine and a biscuit sent into the study,instead of joining us at table. Finding this was to be the case on thepresent occasion, I asked leave to carry in the tray, and was permittedto do so after I had finished my own dinner.
My father was at his writing, and looked up when he saw me, making aplace amongst his papers at the same time for the tray.
"Papa," I said, when I had put it down, "I'm sorry for what I said thismorning. I don't mind Aleck's riding the gray; and please I should liketo ride my own pony. I saw Rickson before dinner, and told him I hadchanged my mind, and that very likely the pony would be wanted."
My father answered, in a quiet, grave voice: "You might have sparedyourself the trouble, Willie, of speaking to Rickson, for, though I'msorry to leave you behind, I cannot allow you the pleasure of the rideto Stavemoor this afternoon."
"But, papa," I pleaded, "you always forgive me when I say I am sorry."
"And I do not say now that I will not _forgive_ the wrong things yousaid this morning," he answered; "but I cannot let your conduct passwithout punishment. You must remember, my child," he added, drawing metowards him, "that _forgiving_ and _not punishing_ are very differentthings. Do you remember when God forgave David his sin, yet He punishedhim by the death of his son. And it would be contrary to His commands ifChristian parents were to allow their children's faults to be_unpunished_, although it is a Christian duty to exercise a _forgivingspirit_."
The practical result of this statement was what I thought of most; itwas clear to my mind that the ride to Stavemoor had to be given up, andmy brow grew cloudy.
"Then, papa," I said, poutingly, "I mayn't go with you this afternoon?"
"Certainly not, Willie," very decidedly; "you will spend one hour, fromthe time we start, in your own room; and I trust that you will rememberduring that time--_if you are_ really sorry--that mine is not the onlyforgiveness you have to seek."
"Aleck's, papa?"
"No, not Aleck's; I hope he will never have an idea of all the wrongfeelings you have entertained towards him."
"You mean God's forgiveness," I said, more seriously; for that was aname never to be pronounced without deep reverence.
"Yes, Willie; don't forget, my child, that the youngest as well as theoldest of us has need to seek the Fountain opened for all uncleanness.No repentance will wash us clean. You must ask, through the Lord Jesus,not only that your sins may be forgiven, but that you may also havestrength to do better for the future. You may go now. Remember what Isaid about the hour in your own room."
I departed accordingly, passing Aleck in the passage all ready andequipped for his ride. Brushing past him, without giving an answer tohis inquiry whether I was going to get ready, I ran quickly up-stairs tomy own room, shut the door, and burst into tears.
By-and-by I heard the horses coming round; then I wiped my eyes, andkneeling upon a chair at the window, where I could not be seen, watchedall the proceedings.
Rickson, faithful to my interests, had, I perceived, brought up the ponyready saddled. I almost hoped that Aleck would have had it after all.But no; I saw him in another moment mounted upon the gray, which,apparently conscious of a lighter weight than usual, began shaking itshead, and showing off its mettle. Rickson held it firmly. "So-ho!so-ho!" I heard him saying. "Ease her a bit, Master Gordon; ease hermouth; there--there--so-ho!"
Aleck held the reins firmly, and his ringing voice came up cheerilythrough the air.
"I'm not a bit afraid, thank you, Uncle Grant."
My father in the meantime mounted Peter the Great; and before starting Isaw the stable-boy give him a leading rein, which he put into hispocket, for future use I mentally decided, in case Aleck should havedifficulty in managing the gray. But no such difficulty occurred withinthe range of my observation. When Rickson removed his hand from thebridle she bounded off rather friskily; but in another moment Aleck hadreined her in, and was displaying such ready ease in the management ofhis steed, that it was clear my father's confidence in his horsemanshipwas justified.
As I turned round from the window I heard my mother's soft footstep inthe passage, and in another moment she had entered my room. She had herwalking things on, and a little basket in her hand, well known to me asinvariably containing jellies, puddings, or packets of tea for some ofthe many invalids to whom my mother was as an angel of mercy. Shestopped only for two or three minutes, to tell me how thankful she wasto know I had felt sorry for my behaviour in the morning, and howgrieved to have to leave me at home when she would have liked me to havebeen out riding with my father, or walking with her; and then, aftersome further words of monition, she left me to my solitary hour's watch,and I could see her taking her way down the drive, and turning offthrough the wood, until the last flutter of her blue ribbons was lost inthe distance. Then I bethought me of seeing how much longer I had tospend in my own room, and, looking at the clock-tower over the stables,found it was scarcely more than three o'clock. I could not feel freeuntil a quarter to four, and the time began to feel very long andwearisome.
In general, I was a boy of manifold resources, and every moment of myleisure time seemed too short for the many purposes to which I wouldwillingly have applied it. But on this particular afternoon I seemed toweary of everything. Even my last new book of fairy stories failed tointerest me. I felt as if, instead of fancying myself the hero of thetale, I was perpetually being compared, by my own conscience, to theunamiable characters--Cinderella's sisters, for instance, or the elderof the two princes who lived in a country long ago and nowhere inparticular; elder brothers being in fairy tales, as all trueconnoisseurs are aware, jealous, cruel, and sure to come to a bad end;whilst the younger brothers are persecuted, forgiving, and finallytriumphant, marrying disenchanted princesses, and living happy everafter. I threw aside my fairy book, and sought for some other means ofamusement in a repository of odds and ends, established in a corner ofthe room by the housemaid, whose efforts to observe order in disorderwere most praiseworthy. There I was glad to discover a piece ofwillow-bough stripped of its twigs, and in course of preparation for themanufacture of a bow. Immediately I set myself to adjusting a piece ofstring to it, and completing its construction. This occupation was farmore engrossing than the reading had proved; and almost sooner than Ihad expected, the three-quarters chime of the clock proclaimed myliberation. I seized my garden hat, ran down-stairs, and sped out uponthe lawn, determined to feel
very merry, and to enjoy trying mynewly-made bow as much as possible. It was annoying that Frisk had gonewith the horses--it made me feel more lonely not to have him to playwith; but still, my hour's imprisonment being over, I thought I couldfind plenty of amusement. So I began firing away certain home-madearrows, to which my mother's loving fingers had carefully fastenedfeathers; putting up a flower-pot on a stand as a mark, and trying tohit it. But the arrows did not go very far after all, and I leant downupon the bow and tightened the string, and then tightened it again,until there was a sudden snap, and a collapse--it had broken in twopieces! I threw the bow aside in disgust, and went off into theshrubbery, and then down the carriage drive, hoping to meet my mother;but she happened to be detained that afternoon at one of the cottageswhere she was visiting, and missed her usual time for returning. Feelingvery dreary and disconsolate, I finally wandered back again into thehouse, and hung about in the different rooms in a listless, dissatisfiedmood, until, at about half past five, I could hear the rapid tread ofhorses' feet, and in another moment my father and Aleck cantered up tothe door. Frisk was flourishing about in his usual style, and found meout in a moment, jumping up upon my shoulders, and licking my hands, andexpressing in perfectly comprehensible language his regret that I hadnot been of the party, and his pleasure in seeing me again.
Aleck was in a high state of spirits, triumphant at having provedhimself sufficient of a horseman to manage the gray, and delighted withall the incidents of the expedition. He did not know the reason of myhaving stayed at home; but told me how sorry he was I had not been withthem, and tumultuously recounted the various pleasures he had enjoyed.
"See, I've got lots of shells," he said, "and several beautifulmadrepores. You must have some of them. They'd had a wedding, too, andwe had to eat some of the bride-cake, and drink their health, and--"
But Aleck's enumeration did not proceed further, for I think my fatherperceived how keenly I was feeling the contrast between his joyousexcitement and my own very dreary heaviness of heart, and called to meto come to the study with him, and put away his riding whip. So I gladlyturned away from my cousin, and followed my father to his room.
To some children, the study, library, or whatever other room isconsecrated to the use of the head of the family, is a sort of dreadfuland solemn place, generally closed to them, but opening from time totime as a court of justice, to which they are brought when theirmisdemeanours have exceeded usual bounds, and are considered to requireseverer measures than are within the province of the lesserauthorities. Very alarming, in consequence, is the summons when itcomes.
With me, however, the case was happily very different; the study wasassociated with countless hours of happy intercourse with a father whosevery countenance was beaming with love. Times of reproof and punishmentthere had been also, but the returning happiness of forgiveness, theloving words of advice, the kind and constant sympathy, I never failedto find from him, made me look upon an invitation to his room as thebest thing that could happen to me, whether I was happy or in trouble.
"My poor little Willie," he said, sitting down almost immediately, anddrawing me towards himself; "have you been very sorrowful?"
I hid my face on his shoulder, and sobbed out that I was quitemiserable.
"Have you thought what it is that has made your day so sad, Willie?" heasked, kindly.
"Yes, papa," I answered between my sobs; "I wasn't allowed to go toStavemoor, and I was so unhappy in my own room all alone, and--and--Ibroke my bow just after I had finished making it--"
"But the beginning of all this unhappiness, Willie--quite thebeginning?"
"Aleck's having the gray, papa," I said. "I think that was quite thebeginning."
"So do I think so, my child," rejoined my father; "or rather, the wrongfeelings to which this gave rise. And now consider, Willie, how wrongand ungrateful you have been, to let this grow up into such a trouble.Just think of all to-day's mercies: your home, your loving papa andmamma, all the comforts that so many little boys are without; and then,besides all these, a pleasant excursion planned to give you specialpleasure on your half holiday. And, in the midst of all these blessings,instead of being thankful and happy, you are suddenly overwhelmed, asthough by a great misfortune; not because any of your enjoyments are tobe diminished, but because another is to have a pleasure which you thinkgreater."
My father paused for a moment, and I could not help feeling that,according to his way of putting it, I certainly had been both naughtyand foolish: still, it occurred to me that being happy was not in itselfpossible at all times; and that, similarly, if I were unhappy, I wasunhappy, not by choice, but because it was not in my power to feelotherwise. I thought this, not indeed in words, or in any semblance ofcoherent argument, but in a sort of confused perplexity, which was onlypartly represented by my reply to my father:--
"Papa, I couldn't help feeling unhappy when I heard you talking aboutAleck's going. I couldn't make myself feel happy."
"Ah, Willie, you've come to the root of the matter now," heanswered;--"'_couldn't make myself_ feel happy!' That is just it,Willie; a wrong feeling of envy came into your heart--you know it was awrong feeling that feeling of dislike that another should be happy, so Ineed not waste time in proving it to you; and you could not chase theenemy from your own heart, so, without ever remembering that there isOne who promises to help all who cry to Him for help, and who isstronger than the strong man armed, you give in at once to the enemy;and as you couldn't help yourself, came out of the battle conquered andvanquished."
I hung my head down, feeling I had been a coward. "I'm so sorry, papa,"I whispered.
"I thought you would be ere long, my child," he said. "I hope you usedthe time in your room partly as I intended."
I knew I hadn't, and felt still more ashamed of myself, but saidnothing; I was never required to mention whether I had followed myparents' advice on such occasions, they were so fearful of making me ahypocrite.
"Our heavenly Father will have forgiven you all your fault, if you havesought forgiveness through Jesus Christ; and now your earthly father isquite ready to forgive also, as you seem really sorry."
My father gave me a kiss, and I threw my arms around his neck, and feltthe loneliness and sadness of the day all over. My mother came in a fewmoments later, and joined us in the study, and with her loving, gentlewords, completed my happiness in being forgiven and received back againinto my usual position.
She did not forget all that had passed, however. I found that out at ourBible readings; for almost the very next day she took for her subjectwith us boys, the sin of envy and its consequences, and the best meansof conquering it. I can remember to this hour the differentillustrations--Cain, and Saul, and the blood-thirsty Pharisees on theone side; and Moses, and David, and Jonathan, and Paul, on the other;and the verses we found out in Proverbs and in the Epistles: theyperhaps did me some good at the time, but my heart was not reallytouched. I had not found out, in my own little personal experience, whatmy father meant by the _Fountain opened for all uncleanness_, and therewere bitter but necessary lessons still in store for me.