CHAPTER XI.
Matilda went to the door and knocked. She heard nothing, and wasobliged to knock again. Then the door opened, and David stood beforeher. What to say to him Matilda had not just determined, and while shehesitated he stepped back, mutely inviting her to enter. Matilda wentin and he closed the door. She was afraid to speak when she saw hisface, it was so pale and disturbed. But he prevented her.
"I have found it out, Matilda," he said. "It's all true."
Matilda started and looked up at him to see what he meant.
"I know it now," he said. "He _is_ the Messiah! he is my Messiah; he ismy King But--my people, my people!--"
Breaking off abruptly with this cry, David sat down at a little tablewhere he had been sitting,--for his Bible was open upon it,--and puthis head down in his hands and burst into tears. And Matilda had neverseen anybody weep as she saw him then; nor in her childishness hadsupposed that a boy could; the little deal table shook under thestrength of his sobs. Matilda was bewildered and half frightened; shestepped back into the gallery, meaning to summon Mr. Richmond; but Mr.Richmond was not there; and she went back again, and stood, muchdistressed, waiting until this paroxysm of pain should have passed by.It lasted some time. Probably David had not shed a tear until then, andspeaking to her had broken down the barrier. Matilda did not know whatto do. At last she put her hand timidly among the thick dark curlswhich lay lower than she had ever seen them before, and spoke.
"Dear David! don't,--please don't do so!"
He heard and heeded the anxious little voice, for the sobs lessened,and presently he raised himself up and as it were shook them off. ButMatilda thought he looked very sad yet. She waited silently.
"You see, Matilda," he said, "I understand it all now. And _they_don't!"
"Who don't, David?"
"My people," he said sadly. "I see it all now. They did not knowhim--they did not know him! And so they lost him. You know what hesaid,--the kingdom is 'taken from them, and given to another nation,bringing forth the fruits thereof.' So they are scattered abroad on theface of the whole earth. And still they don't know him!"
"But you do, David?" said Matilda earnestly.
"Tilly, I wish my life was longer, to use it for him. I wish my handswere stronger, to do his service! But all I am is his, every bit of it,and all I have; from this day for ever."
The boy stood, with a kind of sad joyfulness, very quiet, with foldedhands, speaking hardly as it seemed to Matilda, but perhaps to angelsand the Lord himself.
"Won't you come and tell Mr. Richmond?"
"Certainly!" he said, starting from his attitude.
"When we heard nothing of you for ever so long, I grew troubled; Ididn't know what had become of you; and then Mr. Richmond proposed thatwe should come here and look after you. You'll come to the parsonageto-night, David? you know we are all going away to-morrow morning."
"I'll be ready in two minutes."
Matilda waited while he washed his face and brushed his hair; then theywent downstairs and found Mr. Richmond. He stretched out his hand toDavid, which the boy took with a flitting change of colour that told ofsome difficulty of self-command. However in a moment his words werefirm.
"I have found my Messiah, sir, where you bade me look for him. He is_my_ Messiah, and my King, and I am his servant. I wish I could be hisservant twenty times over!"
"Why?"
"One life is too little to give."
"You may serve him to the ages of the ages. Service shall not end with_this_ life, do you think so?"
Then David lifted up his dark eyes and smiled. Matilda had always knownhim a very grave boy; perhaps partly for that reason this smile seemedto her like a rift of light between clouds, so sweet and bright. Itfilled Matilda with so much awe that she did not open her lips all theway to the parsonage. Nor did Mr. Richmond say much.
They were in danger of being a silent party at tea, too; only I thinkthe minister exerted himself to prevent it. Matilda had no words foranything, and indeed could hardly eat her supper; as often as shedared, she stole a look at David. For he did not look at all likehimself. He was grave; to be sure that was like him; only now it was anew sort of high, sweet gravity, even gentle and humble in its seeming;and if he was silent, it was not that he was not ready and willing tospeak when there was occasion. But Matilda guessed he had too much tothink of to want to talk much. Norton was perhaps a little curious asto what there was between his three companions; and Miss Redwood wasseldom free with her tongue in the minister's presence. Mr. Richmond,as I said, had to exert himself, or the silence of the tea-table wouldhave been too marked.
They all went to church together. Matilda caught a look of extremesurprise on Norton's face when he saw that David was one of the party;but there was no time for explanations then. Little Matilda thought shehad hardly ever been so happy in her life. In the old place, Mr.Richmond preaching, and David and Norton beside her, one of them therein heart as well as in person. The singing was sweet, and the prayerswere happy.
Coming back from church, Matilda and Norton fell a little behind theothers.
"What's come over David Bartholomew?" Norton whispered. "Politeness?"
"O no, Norton; not politeness. He will tell you himself."
"Davy's strong on politeness," said Norton. "I didn't know but it wasthat. Politeness took _me;_ but of course, to take Davy, it would haveto be a most extraordinary and uncommon sort of politeness. I canhardly believe my eyes yet."
"You always said Mr. Richmond was a brick, Norton," said Matilda.
"Yes, but you never heard me say David Bartholomew was another, didyou?"
"Well, but he _is_, Norton."
"He _is!_ Phew! that's news."
They came to the parsonage door and Matilda could not reply. Going in,Mr. Richmond said to them that he had something to talk with Davidabout, and that they must not sit up if they were tired. So he andDavid turned into the study, and Norton and Matilda went on into thedining-room, where Miss Redwood was sitting with her Bible. ThenDavid's head was put into the room after them. "Tell Norton for me,please, Matilda," he said; and went back.
"Tell me what?" said Norton.
Matilda did not know how to begin.
"Well, you've got home," remarked the housekeeper closing her book."Was there many out?"
"Would have been more if you hadn't staid at home, Miss Redwood,"Norton replied.
"When you're as old as I am, my young gentleman, you'll know that folksdon't do things without reasons."
"Ah!" said Norton. "But are they always good reasons?"
"That's their own look out," said the housekeeper. "What did you go tochurch for this evening, for instance?"
"I've just been telling my sister," said Norton. "But what, in the nameof Rabbi Solomon, and all the Rabbis, ever took David Bartholomewthere?"
"Ain't he a Jew?" said the housekeeper.
"Of course he is. And he don't love Christians, I can tell you, exceptone here and there."
"He does now," said Matilda in a low voice.
"What?" said Norton.
"He loves Christians now, Norton. And he loves Jesus. He is a Christianhimself."
"David Bartholomew a Christian!" exclaimed Norton.
Matilda nodded. Her eyes were full and her lips were trembling.
"I _thought_ there was something to pay," said the good housekeeper,whose eyes watered for company. But Norton was transfixed withastonishment.
"Pink, what do you mean?"
"It's true, Norton," said Matilda nodding again.
"What's made him?"
"He has been studying the Bible and the New Testament this long while.Now, he says, he knows."
"And he means it!" said the housekeeper. "I can tell by the look ofhim."
"Means what?"
"He means what he says--whatever that is."
"But you said, you were thinking, something in particular, MissRedwood."
"Yes; just what he was thinking," said the housekeeper. "He'll
never beone o' those Christians that stand on one leg at a time; that's what Imean. Whoever wants to walk alongside of him, 'll have to step up tothe mark."
Norton looked at her, in somewhat disdainful want of comprehension, andthen turned to Matilda again.
"Pink, I don't believe a word of it!"
"Why, Norton, I heard him myself, all that he said."
"Mind, he may have found out that his famous old uncles of rabbis don'tknow anything; _that's_ very likely; but I don't believe DavidBartholomew has given up being a Jew."
"Why he can't do that, Norton; he's born so; but he is a Christian too."
"A man can't be a Christian and a Jew too," said Norton.
"Miss Redwood, can't he?"
"I reckon it's difficult," said the good housekeeper; "and you maydepend he's found that out; but he's found it's possible too. Why what'ud become of all the Jewish nation if it warn't possible?"
"What should become of them?" Norton asked scornfully.
"Well, there's wonderful things about the Jews in the Bible," said thehousekeeper rising; "if the minister was here he'd tell you. And therewas an old promise to Abraham, that if I was you I wouldn't runagainst."
"Run against a promise to Abraham!" said Norton.
"Well, yes," said the housekeeper, setting her chair back at the wallin its place. "I wouldn't like to run against none o' the Lord's words,and this is one of 'em. 'I will bless them that bless thee, and cursehim that curseth thee.'"
The housekeeper went off and left Matilda and Norton looking at eachother. Norton wore a vexed face.
"This is all trumpery," he said. "It will blow away like smoke."
"No it won't, Norton," said Matilda. "I hope not."
"And how long have you and David been holding secret meetings togetherto talk about this?"
"I don't know, Norton. But we had better go to bed, I suppose; for MissRedwood will call us very early to have breakfast before the omnibuscomes for us."
"Nonsense to have breakfast!" said Norton. "We shall be home timeenough."
"But then you and Davy will have to rush right off to school. Goodnight."
"Good night"--said Norton, in an uncomfortable tone. And they went upto their rooms, leaving David and Mr. Richmond still shut up in thestudy.
It was early, dawn just breaking, when the summons came for them to getup; the dawn of a fair spring morning. What a visit it had been!Matilda thought to herself, as she dressed and put up her things in herlittle hand bag. And as the first sunbeams were glinting on the top ofthe old tower, she ran down to breakfast. Mr. Richmond gave her a verywarm greeting, in his quiet way. So did David. He looked bright andwell, Matilda saw at a glance. Norton had not by any means got over hisdiscomfiture. He seemed embarrassed as well as uneasy; watched Davidwith furtive glances, and eat his breakfast in silence. Mr. Richmondand Matilda were the talkers.
"Have you had any more difficulties about boots?" he asked in thecourse of the conversation. Matilda looked at him in bewilderment.
"You wrote me some time ago, on the subject of a deep question that hadto do with boots."
Matilda coloured and laughed, while Norton remarked that boots were aqueer subject for deep questions to have to do with.
"Deep questions can spring out of anything--out of your bread andbutter," said Mr. Richmond. "How is it, Tilly, about the matter ofboots?"
"I have hardly thought about it, Mr. Richmond, this long while."
"How is that?"
"I have had so much else to think of, I believe."
"Studies?"
"No, sir; my studies have been a good deal broken off by my being sick."
"What then? Can you tell me?"
Matilda gave briefly the history of her connexion with Sarah Staples.She meant to give it briefly; but the story was too sweet in thetelling; it rather grew long. Yet she did by no means put herself orher own doings in the foreground; that place was given as much aspossible to Mr. Wharncliffe and David and the poor family themselves.The minister and the housekeeper were both very much interested.
"Yes," said the former, in conclusion, "I understand, and am satisfied.I see that now boots are boots; and nothing more."
Matilda laughed, for the boys looked mystified.
"Will you tell me, sir," inquired Norton, "how deep questions couldspring out of my bread and butter?"
The minister could have smiled at the boy's air, which had much theeffect of seeming to put a "poser" to him; but he controlled himselfand answered quite gravely.
"Shall we consider them together? or apart?"
"Apart, if you please."
"Well--Bread, you know, daily bread, stands for the matters whichsupport life, in all variety. This question arises.--Who gives thisdaily bread to you, and gives you power to eat it? And what use does Hewish to make of you, that he should give you both?"
Norton was silent.
"You are not prepared with an answer?" said the minister.
"I never thought of the questions before, sir. The second one sounds tome very strange."
"Does it? Do you think the Lord had no purpose to serve, in putting youhere and nourishing you up to strength and power?"
"That's for the bread," said Norton after a pause, but not rudely;lifting his eyes to the minister as he spoke. "You were going toconsider the bread _and butter_."
"I think you do not seem disposed to 'consider' anything," said Mr.Richmond smiling; "but, however, I will hope the time of considerationmay come. Now for deep question Number three, or Number four,--You havebutter to your bread, and plenty of it; what is your duty towardsothers who have no butter, and others still who have no bread?"
"There's the omnibus, Mr. Richmond," said the housekeeper. And therewas no more talk. Only a hurried putting on of hats and seizing of handbags; eager, warm, hearty grasping of hands in good bye; and then thethree travellers were in the omnibus and rolling along the parsonagelane and out at the gate.
What a visit it had been! Matilda was so full of content that she wasstill. Not a very noisy child at any time, she was now as quiet as amouse, just with content. Three days of sweet pleasure, three days ofcountry skies and greening grass and free sunshine; three nights andmornings of parsonage delights. And more than that; more than all shehad hoped for; David going home with _his_ deep questions solved andhis calls of duty and privilege met. What would they think at home? andhow would they find out about it? "He was one of those lost pieces ofsilver," thought Matilda, smiling to herself; "and Jesus has found him!"
"What's so amusing?" inquired Norton. He was rather in a disorderedstate of mind, and certainly seemed to see nothing amusing himself.
Matilda looked up, still smiling, though her eyes were dewy, and fromhim glanced at David. Their eyes met. His smile answered hers, quiterecognizing its meaning. Norton whistled. There was no other passengerin the omnibus; and he whistled half way to the station.
In the cars the same content possessed Matilda. It was still earlymorning; she thought the river had never looked so pretty as in thecrisp light of that hour; nor the opposite hills so lovely as underthose wreaths of bright vapour which lay along the hillsides; nor everwas there a blue sky more smiling. She glanced at her two companions.Norton was not smiling by any means; his discomposure had not gone off,whatever it might mean; and he eyed David now and then with a jealous,doubtful expression. David was grave enough, but not as usual. Matildalooked again and again, to see how different the thoughtful bright calmof his face was from the old dark gloom that used to be there; and thenher eyes turned to the sunny river and sky and hills, with a gladfeeling of the harmony between things outward and inward. Before long,David had taken out a little book and was deep in the study of it;which he never interrupted till they reached Poughkeepsie. There Nortonrushed out, to get something to eat, he said; though Matilda guessed itwas rather to get rid of himself for a minute. Many other people leftthe car on the same errand; and David looked up from his book and cameover to Matilda.
"Well," said
he, "how are you getting along?"
"Nicely. I am so happy, David!"
"So am I," said he gravely. "All the world is new, and it seems to me Isee the sun shine for the first time."
"See the sun shine?" repeated Matilda doubtfully.
"Yes," said he smiling.
"But you don't look at it, David. You are reading all the while."
"I see it, though. Now I know what the prophet Malachi meant by the sunof righteousness. Do you remember, Matilda? I guess you don't; but Iknow the words.
'And risen to you, ye who fear my name, Hath the sun of righteousness and healing in its wings.'
I feel that now. I never could understand it before."
"There are a great many things that we cannot understand till we feelthem,--are there not, David?"
"I suppose so," he said thoughtfully.
Their talk stopped there; and presently the people who had gone outcame pouring back. Norton brought a great piece of sponge-cake toMatilda.
"Thank you, Norton, but I'm not hungry, I've just had breakfast a fewminutes ago."
"You hadn't time to eat."
"Yes, I had. You spent your time talking, I suppose; you and Mr.Richmond; that's the reason you are hungry."
Norton sat down and eat his sponge-cake; and spoke no more till thetrain got in. The carriage was in waiting; took the two boysimmediately to school, and carried Matilda and the bags home.
She wondered all day how and when David's disclosure would be made, andhow it would be taken at home. She had a good many questions to answerherself, even Judy seeming curious to know what they had been doing andhow they had spent the time, and why they had not come home Saturday;especially what David had done with himself and why he had taken itinto his head to go at all. Matilda declined to enter into anydiscussion of David's affairs, and left him to speak for himself. Butmuch she wondered how he would, and whether he would, and when he would.
It happened that evening that there was no company, and the family wereall gathered together in the little reception room; talking over thechildren's reports and discussing plans for the coming summer.Matilda's heart began to beat; for she saw that David was thoughtfullystill, and that Norton, in a corner, only talked by jerks, as it were,and sat turning over and over one of his school-books, with an odd airof expectancy. Yes, certainly he knew that David was going to speak,and was waiting for it. Matilda could think of nothing else; her talkall came to an end.
"Norton hasn't much to say to-night," Mrs. Bartholomew remarked. "Nomore than if he were my boy."
"I haven't anything to talk about," said Norton, looking at nothing buthis book.
"Matilda has lost her tongue too," said Judy.
"She never had such a one as yours," replied her grandmother; "you mustremember that. It isn't such a loss in the house."
Judy seemed inclined to pout at this; but then her attention was turnedto her brother, who began rather suddenly.
"May I speak, grandmamma?"
"I shall be very happy to hear," said Mrs. Lloyd smiling.
"I am not so sure of that," said David; "at least, not of you all;though I really have something to say."
All eyes turned to David. Norton looked up at him from under his brows,with a strange expression of curiosity and displeasure. Matilda onlylooked away. David hesitated, then went on very calmly and gently.
"You know, mother and grandmother, that I have been very strong in mylove for my own people, and very strong in my sympathies with them."
"Is it in the past tense?" asked Mrs. Lloyd.
"And very fixed in my prejudices against what was not Jewish; againstwhat in your beliefs was contrary to mine."
"We all know that," said his mother a little bitterly.
"Is _that_ in the past tense?" demanded Judy.
"I joined with my people in expecting the Messiah and hoping for him."
"Did you?" said his mother.
"I have changed," said David slowly. "I have been studying these thingsfor some time past; I have studied and studied; and now I know. OurMessiah _has_ come; our people did not know him, and--they lost him. Iknow now that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah."
A scream of startled rage from Judy broke in upon the closingutterances of this speech. She prevented everybody else.
"You do not mean to say that, David Bartholomew!" she exclaimed,jumping out of her chair and standing before him. "You don't mean it."
"Do I ever say what I do not mean, Judy?" he answered gravely.
"Say it again. Say you have left us and gone over to the Christians."
"Judy! are you not ashamed!" cried Mrs. Bartholomew. "What do you thinkof your mother?"
"Nothing," said Judy. "I'm not talking of you, mamma. You are neitherone thing nor the other. You are nothing. _Have_ you gone over, David?"
"You know what I said," her brother answered. "I believe that Jesus ofNazareth is the Messiah."
"The Christians' Messiah," said Judy scornfully.
"Theirs and ours," said David sorrowfully. "Messiah ben David, the Kingof Israel."
"Take that!" said Judy, administering a slap on the cheek which washeartily delivered. "You are a mean good-for-nothing, DavidBartholomew! and I wish your name was something else."
All the voices in the room cried out upon Judy except her brother's.His colour changed, back and forth, but he was silent She stood in thecentre of the room like a little fury.
"Judy, Judy! Sit down!" said Mrs. Bartholomew. But it was doubtful ifJudy heard.
"What do you think your uncle Solomon and Rabbi Nathan will say to you,you mean boy!" she cried. "I am going straight to tell them."
"I will tell them myself, Judy," said David.
"And what do you think they will say to you, hey? You deserve allyou'll get. Ugh! What is a Jew who isn't a Jew any longer?"
"I was going to tell you what I am," said David. "Grandmamma, I had notfinished what I had to say to you."
"Let him speak, Judy," said Mrs. Lloyd.
"If the rest is like the beginning, I don't want to hear it," said Judy.
"You need not hear it," said her mother. "Leave the room, then."
"I won't!" said Judy. "There is nobody here but me to make him ashamed."
"I wish something would make you ashamed," said her mother. "JudyBartholomew, hold your tongue. Go on, David."
"Mamma, you don't like all this stuff any better than I do."
"I choose to hear it out, though," said Mrs. Bartholomew. "Sit down andbe silent."
"I will--till I get something else to talk about," said Judy, sittingdown as requested. And all eyes turned once more upon David. He wasvery quiet, outwardly: he had been quietly waiting.
"Grandmamma," he said with a slight smile, "I am as good a Jew as everI was"--("It's a lie," put in Judy;--"unless the rest was!")--"I am asgood a Jew as ever I was, and _better_. I had studied about theMessiah, and knew about him, and knew that he was promised--the hope ofIsrael, and the King of Israel. Now I know that he has come, and I knowhim; and he isn't the Messiah that I am hoping for, but"--he hesitatedand smiled again,--"the Christ I am glad for; the Hope of Israel andthe King, and so my King and my Hope. I have given myself to him to behis servant. I believe in him--I love him--and all that I am is his."
Possibly Judy was bewildered by this speech; perhaps she was astonishedinto silence; at any rate she sat still and was quiet. Norton tossedhis book over and over. Matilda was in such a tumult of delight thatshe could hardly contain herself, but she made a great effort and keptit from observation. The ladies seemed somewhat in Judy's condition. Atlast Mrs. Bartholomew spoke.
"By your last words, what do you mean, David?"
"Mamma," he said, "I meant to make them quite plain. I thought it wasright to tell you all. I am the servant of the Lord Jesus Christ."
"Well, so are we all," said his mother. "What do you mean to do, thatyou proclaim it so publicly?"
"Nothing, mamma; only to follow my Master."
"Follow hi
m how?"
"In his own way--obeying his words."
"But people that talk in that way often go into extremes, and doridiculous things--unlike all the world. I hope that is not what youmean, David?"
"I don't know, mamma," said the boy gravely. "I will do ridiculousthings if He command me"--and again a flicker of a smile that came likea flicker of light passed over his face. "The first thing I thought Ihad to do was to tell you all; he says his servants must confess him;and to-morrow I will go to my uncles." The smile had faded and he wasvery grave then.
"And do you know what they will say to you?"
"I suppose I know," he answered slowly.
"Is this a very new thing, David Bartholomew?"
"No, mamma. The _finishing_ of it is new; it has been growing andpreparing for a long while."
"Like you!" said his mother discontentedly. "Think and think and saynothing,--and then come out with your mind, when nobody can change it!"
"And it's all because of her!" Judy exclaimed, starting from hersilence and her seat together, and pointing to Matilda. "_She_ has madethe mischief. David would never have thought of these low ways, ifthere had not been somebody to put it into his head. That's what youget, aunt Zara, by your works."
"Hush!" said Mrs. Bartholomew sharply. "Matilda has nothing to do withit."
"Hasn't she though?" Judy retorted. "Just ask her. Or ask this boy.Mean little spy! coming into such a house as this to upset it!"
"Hold on, Judy," cried Norton; "you are going too fast."
"Keep yourself out of the mess!" retorted Judy with great sharpness;"there's enough without you. I say, she is at the bottom of it all; andI wish it was the bottom of the Red Sea with Pharaoh's chariots!"
"Judy, Judy!" said Mrs. Bartholomew, angry and half laughing--"holdyour tongue and don't be a fool."
"You've only one of that name among your children, mamma," said theyoung lady. "Half's enough."
"What has Matilda done?" Mrs. Laval asked calmly.
"She has been doing ever since she came here," Judy answered.
"What _has_ bewitched you, David, though?" his mother inquired. "Therewas nothing of all this when you went to the catechizing?"
"No, mamma. But the study about that time put me on thinking and askingquestions; nobody could answer my questions; not even our wise men;until at last I began to ask--where I found the answer."
"Matilda?" said Mrs. Bartholomew.
"Matilda helped me a great deal."
"Didn't I say so?" exclaimed Judy.
"But it was her Bible that answered me--hers and my own."
"When did she help you?" Norton broke out from his corner where he hadbeen tossing his book. "You and she are not such particular friends,that ever I knew."
"O but I think we are now, Norton," said Matilda.
"Yes," said David, with a smile. "And she has been _my_ friend for agood while."
"Very well," said Norton, returning to his book, which he tossed overand over with greater exactness than ever.
"I wash my hands of you, both of you," cried Judy. "You'll be areligious poke--O mamma! to think that we should have anythingreligious in _our_ family. And Matilda always was a poke. Whatever willbecome of us, with two of them!"
"You have more to do with it than you think, Judy," said her brother."The way Matilda bore your persecutions was the first thing that mademe want to know about her religion."
"What persecutions?" Mrs. Bartholomew asked; but nobody seemed ready toanswer her, and she went on--"Judy, you are a fool. David might changehis opinions, surely, without being a poke. My son, you do not mean tobe different from what you have always been,--do you?"
David hesitated, and said, "I hope so, mother."
"Different--how?" she asked quickly.
"I am the King's servant, mamma," he answered with a certainsteadfastness which had much dignity about it.
"Well, what then? what does that mean?"
"Then of course I must do the King's commands, mamma."
"Didn't you always?"
David's answer was prevented by a fresh outburst of Judy's reproachesand charges, which lasted till her brother took himself out of hearing;then silence fell. Norton stopped the book exercise and looked abouthim. Matilda's face he had seen by glimpses; he knew it was flushed andanxious and glad at once. Mrs. Laval and her sister were grave, withdifferent styles of gravity; one thoughtful, the other vexed. Old Mrs.Lloyd was in tears.