CHAPTER III
THE BIBLE TORN.
Within this awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries; And better he had ne'er been born Who reads to doubt or reads to scorn.--SCOTT.
We must pass over a few years. Hubert had overcome the effects of theclimate, and the many dangers to which he had been exposed, helped, asthey ever will, the heart, uninfluenced by religion, to make him morereckless and daring. Away from his sight, at the bottom of his chest,undisturbed, lay his Bible; beside it, too, lay his sister's desk, andthe writing materials his mother had carefully packed for him: he seldomthought of the fond ones who had given him those things; but far away inEngland they ever thought of him, and watched and wept for a letter.
Hubert's regiment had seen a great deal of service, and it had not beenhis lot to escape the dangers of war. On one occasion he had beenovercome and taken prisoner by some natives, and was only saved frombeing put to death in a cruel manner by an unexpected attack being madeupon these Hindoos by a neighbouring chief, to repulse which they leftHubert and two of his companions in the care of some women, from whomthey were rescued by a company of his regiment who had come out tosearch for him. In a few hours the attempt to save Hubert would havebeen in vain, for the Hindoos, hating the English, seldom allowed muchtime to elapse between the capture and the sacrifice. Many a narrowescape besides this, and many a wound--some slight and somesevere--dotted the pathway of Hubert's life; and the seventh year of hisresidence in India was drawing to a close. The hot season had beenunusually oppressive; nearly every disease which flesh is heir to hadmade fearful ravages amongst the soldiers, and Hubert was a second timestruck down with fever. Mercy once again interposed, and, like thebarren fig-tree, he was spared, that another opportunity might be givenhim to bear fruit. One morning, when he was getting better, the hospitalnurse came to him with a letter in her hand, and asked if he thought itwas for him; he took it from her, and for a few moments did not answerher: his heart smote him; but though his illness had slightly subduedhim, he was old in sin, and had learnt how to overcome all feelings oftenderness; so, striving to check the thoughts that were forcing theirway, he began to examine the postmarks and various written notices uponthe outside of the letter; he soon found how far it had travelled insearch of him, and now it was by a mere chance that he had received it.
"Why was this letter not sent after me?" inquired Hubert.
"Be thankful, sir, that you have received it now," said the nurse. "Ithas travelled after you a great way; but your regiment has been so muchon the move that I am not surprised at its being delayed. I have seen iton the letter-rack more than eight months, and several others with it,and you would not have had it now if I had not remembered you."
"Why, where did you see me before?"
"I nursed poor Captain White in the hospital at Jansi, and I knew you byyour coming so often to see him."
"I did not remember you."
"No, sir, perhaps not; but I did you, though it was only this morningthat I remembered anything about the letter, and that is how it is theyoften get delayed: they are given to people very often, to send on, whoknow nothing at all about them, and so they get put on one side, andsometimes forgotten altogether. I suppose that was sent here becausesomeone knew that when you were stationed here a year ago, you were inhospital with jaundice, and here it has been ever since."
"It is high time things were altered, then," replied Hubert, "if this ishow the letters are treated."
"Yes, sir, it is," said the nurse; "but you don't seem very anxious toread your letter, now you have it."
Hubert said no more. Anxious indeed he was to know what that lettercontained, but fearful to open it; the battle, everything indeed inwarfare he could face with boldness, but before that silent, soiled,fairy-like packet in his hand his whole nature quailed. Had he beenalone, perhaps he would not have opened it at all; but the eye ofanother was upon him, and perhaps it was to save betrayal that he brokethe seal. It was from his father; there was nothing reproachful in it,but a great deal of news about the family and their affectionateremembrance of him; a long account of letters written, and their fearsthat they had not reached him; then an earnest pleading that if hereceived that he would write to them immediately, for their anxiety anddisappointment were very great.
Hubert read his letter several times; it was not the first he hadreceived, though perhaps it was the first that he really felt anxious toanswer; but he was too much out of health to reply to it then. It wasfrequently a silent companion to him during the remainder of his stay inthe hospital, though when he grew better and returned again to his oldcompanions, somehow his father's letter was forgotten.
Hubert's illness had no effect upon him for good; it was sent, no doubtin mercy, to check, at least for a time, the career he was running; buthealth had returned, and so had he to his evil habits. Not one thoughtdid he ever willingly give to his parents, or the good precepts they hadtried to teach him; but when at times a few lines of a hymn, or a fewwords of an early learnt prayer, would, in spite of all his efforts,come across his mind, he had become so bold in sin that he cursed theintruding memory of his purer days.
How little that young soldier thought of the merciful providence thatwas watching over him! And it was doubtless in answer to his parents'prayers that the little snatches of his early lessons were allowed tointrude so repeatedly upon him, to bring him back, if possible, to abetter life. Take courage, mothers, even though the seed now sown seemsto perish as it falls; and continue to store up in the little mindpassages of holy writ, the simple prayer, and the childish hymn; long,long may the soil remain barren, but a distant storm-cloud may shed itstorrents there, and then the fruit of thy labours may return like theautumn grain, and ye shall reap, if ye faint not.
Hubert had grown very handsome, military fortune had smiled upon him,and he had risen to be first lieutenant of his regiment Good abilities,and great intelligence, with his merry, cheerful disposition, had wonhim many favours; but those qualities were at the same time the snaresin his path: they were misapplied and misdirected, and too often werethe cause of his deepest errors.
One night, about nine years after Hubert had left England, he sat alonein his room, with a heavier heart than he had ever before endured. Hissword lay upon the floor, part of his soldier's dress was throwncarelessly upon a chair, a glass jug of water and a bottle were upon thetable, a loose grey cloak was wrapped around him, and his arm was in asling; he had been in battle that day, and severely cut upon theshoulder; the doctor had attended to him and bound up the wound, andHubert, sick and dispirited, lounged in his easy chair in gloomysilence. The doctor had tried to persuade him to go to bed, and Huberthad promised to do so; but as soon as he was gone, the servant man wasdismissed from the room, and Hubert began to think. They must have beenterrible thoughts that could have produced such a look of despair; theywere not, however, about his wounded shoulder, nor the dangers he hadthat day encountered; neither were they of his parents, to whom, in afew months, the news of the battle would probably find its way. It wasaltogether another matter which troubled him.
A companion, a fellow officer--the little lad who seated himself uponthe coil of rope and wept such tears as the vessel left England--hadgrown up to manhood with Hubert, and had that morning gone out with himto battle; they were full of spirit when they went, and for some timefought nearly side by side; but there came unexpectedly a terriblevolley of shot from a portion of the enemy that lay concealed behindsome dense brushwood. Hubert's ranks were thinned, and, as he turnedround to rally and command his men, he missed his friend. It was acritical moment; every energy and thought was required for the fight; sothat a glance behind, and a fleeting pang lest he had fallen, were allthat circumstances allowed, and Hubert rushed on.
The battle was won, the soldiers were returning, and Hubert was wounded;he had made inquiry for his friend, but could hear nothing. As theywound their way along, however, by the hill-side where the volley hadbeen fired, his heart beat quic
kly, for his own wound had made him feelweak, and he could scarcely speak, when he saw two soldiers bending oversomething lying on the grass. All his fears were realized as he slowlycame up to the scene; for there, stretched upon the ground, lay hiscompanion, dead. Oh! how the sight overcame him. If man is capable ofloving man, it was exemplified in Hubert; for his heart had deeplyentwined itself round his hapless comrade, and his first impulse was tokneel beside him, and with his unwounded arm press him to his bosom ashe wept over his pallid brow. No thought, however, of the mercy whichhad kept him from a similar fate came into his mind; no prayer ofthankfulness went up from his heart; but sorrowful and ill, he left hisfriend, and leaning between the two soldiers, he at last, after greatdifficulty, reached his quarters. After Hubert had been attended to bythe doctor, a second thought took the place of the first pure one; and,as he sat alone, instead of pouring out his heart in deep gratitude tohis Almighty Preserver, he became irritated and angry, and amongst themany thoughts that crowded upon him he remembered that his poor deadcompanion was deeply in his debt. Much of their time had been spenttogether at the gaming-table, and only a few evenings before, Hubert hadlent his companion all the money he had by him, including his lastmonth's pay; since then, Hubert had gambled, and been unsuccessful, andhad become involved for a considerable amount, which he had promised topay in a week; but his companion, who owed him sufficient to pay thedebt, was killed, and the difficulty into which he was suddenly plungeddrove him almost to despair.
"What shall I do?" he said, as he passionately struck the table; andthen, in the height of his frenzy, he said many bitter, cruel thingsabout his poor guilty companion who lay dead upon his bed in theadjoining room.
"Oh, what shall I do?" he said again; and for some minutes he sat still,gazing with a vacant stare upon the floor; then, as if moved by a suddenimpulse, he slowly rose from his chair, and, going into his bed-room, heknelt down by his chest, intending to get some writing paper, that hemight reckon up all he owed, and see how far his own resources wouldhelp him. Perhaps he was too absorbed to think of what he was doing, forhe took out a small parcel, and then, after replacing the things in hischest, he went and sat down by the table. For some minutes he sat withhis face covered with his hands, as though he were in deep thought;then he muttered something, and, snatching up the parcel, he broke thestring that tied it; one sharp pull drew the paper away, when out uponthe table fell his Bible. "Fool, to bring that!" he said, and then hedashed it to the other end of the room. In striking the Bible it cameopen, and as it came in contact with the corner of a chair two of itsleaves were torn out. There was a slight momentary regret in Hubert'sheart, when he found what he had done: he hated the book, and could notbear it in his sight; and though he would have been glad to have beenrid of it, he never thought, nor perhaps ever intended destroying it inthat way, and he stepped across the room to gather it all up. Much ofhis passion subsided as he sat down and tried to replace the tornleaves. The days, however, had long since passed when he was accustomedto read his Bible; he was now not only unfamiliar with that sacred book,but all that he once knew appeared to have gone from his memory; andthough he turned over and over again one portion after another, to findthe part in Ezekiel from which the pages had been torn, it was of nouse, he could not replace them; so, with a nervous hand, he thrust theminto his pocket, and took the torn Bible back to his chest.
This little incident, though it produced no reflection, subdued for atime the excitement under which he was labouring; and though hedisregarded the unseen hand that was dealing so mysteriously with him,the first outburst of bad feeling respecting the difficulty into whichhe had fallen by the death of his gambling companion was over, and,leaving his room, he walked with gentle step to the one in which hisdead comrade lay. The years of folly and sin which Hubert had passed hadnot quite dried up all the fountains of his heart; one of them, atleast, was flowing afresh as he closed the door and went up to theremains of his dead friend. He raised the sheet which had been spreadover the corpse, and breathed the words, "Oh, poor Harris!" as he gazedupon the once joyous face; then, sitting down beside him, he laid hishand upon the cold forehead and wept as he had not done since hischildhood. He had seen death in many forms, and this was not the firsttime he had lost a companion; but neither tear nor sigh had followed thedeath of any one before: but for poor Harris, how he wept! Hubert hadloved him well. Death, which before had no effect upon him, overwhelmedhim now, and it was not until his own wounded arm grew very painful,from the effects of touching the cold dead, that he rose to go away.Harris was to be buried early on the morrow, and Hubert felt such astrange bitterness at parting that he could scarcely go; but at last,bending over him, he pressed one long, fervent kiss upon the silent lipsand turned away.
In passing along near the door, his eye caught what he thought to be apiece of folded paper lying near the clothes of his friend; he picked itup, and, upon opening it, found it to be a note from poor Harris--a fewlines written by him in pencil, as he lay dying upon the field ofbattle; and there was not much upon the paper, but there was enough.Poor Harris, in that brief note, begged the finder to convey the sadstory of his death to his mother, and tell her how bitterly he repentedhaving so long forgotten her; that he begged her to forgive him, andearnestly implored the Lord Jesus to have mercy upon him; then came thewords--evidently written by a trembling hand--"Comrade, turn and repent;not a moment may be given to you; tell Hubert Goodwin I am dead: he mustmeet me again."
Hubert had never felt before what he did as he read that note--writtenas the life-blood wasted, and he the subject of it; how he trembled,bold, daring soldier that he was! it was the voice from the dead; and atfirst he felt cold--so cold: his teeth chattered, and then a sudden heatrushed over him, and the perspiration trickled down his face; his bosomswelled, his breath grew short; at length, a long, deep groan burst fromhis overcharged heart, and he went to his own room. Long, very long,silent and alone, Hubert sat in his dreary chamber; there were but fewsounds without, and nothing but sighs and groans broke the stillnesswithin; the words on that blood-spotted note touched him deeply, struckmany a note of discord in his heart, tore into shreds the cloak of sinand guilt he had worn so long, and exposed to him the part he had takenin dragging his companion, once a pure, noble-hearted, susceptible boy,down deep into the villanies of his own dissipated life. And he was tomeet him again--where?
The teaching of his childhood had not been in vain; the bread cast uponthe waters had not all perished; conscience whispered the truth, andHubert knew where he should meet Harris. The soldier's head bowed; hefelt he could not, he dare not, meet the soul he had ruined; the thoughtof the terrible record against him broke down his spirit. "Great God!"as he glanced upward, was all he uttered, in his despair, and his headdrooped again in deep anguish upon his bosom.