Eustace Marchmont: A Friend of the People by Evelyn Everett-Green - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXIV
 CONCLUSION

BRIDE was riding homewards from Pentreath to the castle on a sunny day early in June. The sound of joy-bells was in the air, the faces of men were glad and triumphant, all nature seemed in tune with the general rejoicing which some recent event had plainly set on foot; and the young wife’s face was glad, too, though thoughtfully and temperately. For she knew that the news of which she was the bearer would gladden the heart of her husband, though it would not be to him now that source of triumphant exhilaration which it would have been a year before.

Behind her rode the servant with a bag full of papers at his saddle-bow. It was these letters and newspapers which had been the object of Bride’s ride that day. Her husband had persuaded her to go herself on the chance of news; he was always glad to make an excuse to induce her to take the amount of needful air and exercise which was good for her health, and she always found it so hard to leave him.

But to-day she had been persuaded, and was now riding rapidly homewards with her budget of news, knowing how impatiently her husband and father at home would be awaiting her return.

Dismounting at the castle door, and taking the bag from the hands of the servant, she passed hastily through hall and corridor into the great conservatory, where Eustace was now daily wheeled upon his couch. Since the beginning of May he had been taken down to a ground-floor room in the wing which he and his wife occupied, in order that, when possible, he might be taken out of doors, or into this pleasant place of flowers. He had made as much progress as the most sanguine could hope for during the past months, and recovery was considered now only a matter of time and patience. Time and patience were the only doctors for such a case as his, and Eustace surprised all who came in contact with him by the extreme patience and cheerfulness he showed under a condition of helplessness so trying to youthful manhood; but he would say, with a smile, that Bride made life too sweet for him for any repining to be possible. Each day he found filled with happiness—the happiness of her presence, and of that full community of soul which made their union what it was. Every day brought its own measure of temporal happiness and spiritual growth; and though the young man looked forward with ardent expectation to the hope of being able to fight the battle of life once more, and work in the service of his fellow-men, he recognised fully and freely that this period of enforced idleness had been sent him by the Father in mercy and love, and was resolved that the lesson it was sent to teach him should not be learnt in vain.

The way in which his face kindled at the sight of his wife was a sight good to see. She came quickly forward, bent over and kissed him, and said softly—

“It is good news, Eustace. The Lords have passed the bill!”

“Ah!” he said, and drew a long breath. “I felt it would be so when the King was obliged to recall Lord Grey. All parties must have known then that the mind of the country was made up, and that the thing was right, and must be made law. Have you read the news?”

“No; I only heard what they were all saying in Pentreath. I met many friends, and they all told me something. The Duke of Wellington, when he found the King would create enough new peers to pass the bill, if that was the only resource left, retired from his place in the House, and, some say, will retire from public life altogether. Lord Wharncliffe and his party of waverers came over at once to the side of Lord Grey, and so the bill was passed at once. The people are wild with delight, the bells are being rung, and bonfires are being built up. I sometimes wonder whether they really understand what it is that they rejoice at. They seem to think that some wonderfully good time is coming for them. Poor creatures! I fear they will be disappointed. An act of constitutional justice has been done; but the troubles of England lie far, far deeper than an imperfect system of constitutional representation.”

Eustace was eagerly skimming the contents of newspapers and private letters, and from time to time giving bits of information to his wife; but the sense of her words came home to his mind for all that, and by-and-bye, laying down the papers, he said—

“That is only too true, Bride. That is the very point upon which my eyes have been opened latterly. I used to think that good government and pure government was the backbone of a nation’s prosperity and well-being—as in one sense of the word it is. I mean, that if all men were doing their utmost to walk in the ways appointed by God, we should have a pure and good government, and the nation would prosper. But I see only too clearly now that I was quite deceived in my old belief that this country and the world can ever be renovated and made good by any scheme of political reform instituted by man. We may do our best to be just and temperate, to act uprightly, and think impartially of the interests of all classes; but that alone will never raise them, never give them true happiness, never lift them out of the degradation into which they, as well as too many of us so-called ‘superiors,’ have fallen. There is only one Power which can do that, only one Power mighty enough for that task, and that is the Power of which I fear that we, as a nation of politicians and upright rulers, think singularly little. The time may come when we shall awake to the remembrance that God must be Ruler in the earth if right and justice and equity are to be done; but at present, though we listen to such words with approval from the pulpit, we are absolutely ignorant how to put them into daily practice, and our profession and practice are utterly at variance. That is where our failure comes in, and where I, for one, foresee failure all along the line. This bill may be the inauguration of an enlightened and liberal policy for the next generation; but my old hope of seeing the world raised out of its misery, its degradation, its wickedness by any such means, is fading fast within me.”

Bride was silent for a while, looking out before her with a sweet sad smile upon her fair face.

“It will not be achieved by such means,” she said quietly at last; “and yet, if men would but look to the Lord for help and deliverance, I truly believe He would show us the perfect way, and restore to us those things which are lacking in the order of our daily lives, of our worship, of our government. We know that the powers that be are ordained of God; but we have lost so much of His guidance. Yet I verily believe that if men would with one voice and one heart cry to Him for light and guidance, He would send it to them, even as in days of old. Is He not the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever? Though we have forsaken Him, yet He has not forsaken us. As He spoke by holy men of old, moved by His Spirit, so I truly believe He would speak again had men but faith to listen. But it is that which is always the stumbling-block—the hindrance. Men have lost their faith; they will not believe that God is still amongst them, even as of old—nay, far more truly and nearly than of old; for Christ is the living Head of His Church, and all who believe and are baptized are very members of His mystical Body. And yet we say He is far away, He has passed into the heavens, He is no more working with and amongst us, save through the workings of the Spirit in our hearts. But I feel so very, very sure that, would we let Him, He would fain be much more to us than that, as indeed He will be one day—in the day when the Kingdom shall be set up on earth.”

Eustace drew a long breath. He, too, lying there in helplessness, and seeing much of the brightness of his early visions fade into dimness as he watched the course of events and learned to see more of the workings of this world, had come to think with a great longing of the coming Kingdom, when all that is vile and evil shall be done away, and when Christ Himself shall be revealed and rule in righteousness. Once that thought had seemed to him as the veriest vision of the mystic; now he had come to long for it himself with a great and increasing longing. Loving his fellow-men as he did, he yet loved the Lord more; and to see Him reigning over the world, and the misery and the sin all done away, was a prospect too bright and happy not to excite his ardent longings. Even in his satisfaction at the news just brought, he could yet think with calm hopefulness of the time when the crooked things should be made straight, and the rough places plain, and men should live together in peace and love, and strivings and hatred should be done away.

“And until that day comes,” he said softly at last, “we shall do more to help our brethren by teaching them to look for the Kingdom of God and of His Christ, than by stirring up in their hearts desires after earthly good which perhaps may never be theirs.”

Bride looked up with a sweet smile.

“Ah! that is just what I feel about it, Eustace; let us do all that is right for them, but teach them to strive after contentment and love of God themselves. That is the only thing that will really raise them or make them truly happy.”

“Seek ye first——” said Eustace musingly, not finishing the quotation, for there was no need. “After all, that is the best and highest wisdom, though for eighteen hundred years men have had the answer to their strivings and heart-burnings under their hand, and have not known how to use it. You must help me, sweet wife, in the future, when I go forth, as I trust by God’s mercy I may, to take my place in the battle of life, and stand up for the right and the truth, as I may be called upon to do, to bear in mind that great precept, for without it we can accomplish nothing.”

Bride gave him an eloquent glance, but made no reply, for her father was coming in, anxious to know the news.

She told her tale once more, and the papers were read and discussed between the two men with eager interest. It was strange how, by almost imperceptible degrees, those two had drawn together—not entirely in opinion, but in mutual understanding and sympathy, so that differences of opinion seemed trifles. Now it was real pleasure to both to be together; and though they still argued and disputed, it was in a spirit of toleration and mutual respect and liking which made such argument pleasant and stimulating rather than irritating. The Duke took a more despondent view of the future of the country than Eustace, and had far less confidence in the success of the coming era of more liberal principles of government for redressing wrongs and bringing about a lasting state of prosperity and peace; but then Eustace was far less sanguine about the coming Utopia, far more patient and reasonable when existing wrongs were discussed, far less confident in the powers of legislation for the elevation of mankind than he once had been. Like many other ardent young dreamers in the forefront of the battle of reform, he had practically left out of his calculations the mystery of original sin—the inherent corruption of men’s hearts, and their perversity of vision, their determination to do evil until their eyes are opened to see God’s dealings in all things, and their hearts are purified by the Holy Spirit. No system, however perfect, will ever make men righteous that does not first lead them to God. It was this that Eustace had never realised before when he sought to raise men by increased prosperity, and wiser and more just legislation. Now he had begun to see the futility of his former dreams, and insensibly he grew to sympathise with the feelings of his kinsman, who had lived through so many crises of the world’s history, but had found at the end that human nature was never changed, and that no era of bliss and joy followed upon the violent efforts made to secure a better order of things.

Leaving them to talk thus together and to discuss the situation to their hearts’ content, Bride stole away into the garden, and wandered along some of the shady paths, thinking her own thoughts, and filled with a sense of profound thankfulness and joy in the unity of spirit now existing between herself and her husband. It was the same daily joy to her that it was to him, and her heart was charged with a peace and restful content that sometimes seemed to her to be a foretaste of the Kingdom itself, towards which her heart was always turning.

In one of the alleys of the rose-garden she came upon Abner, who was tying up the young shoots upon the arch, and picking off the dead blossoms. He welcomed her with the smile that the sight of her always called up in his eyes, and stood still with a face full of interest whilst she told him the news.

“Well, well, well,” he said when she had done, “may be it’ll be a good thing. It sounds just, and right, and reasonable; but I don’t understand these big matters, and there’s a deal to be said on both sides, so far as I can see. My poor boy would have been pleased. He was terrible set on it; but I used to think that when he got it, he would find himself as discontented as ever, and set off after some new teacher who would tell him this was only the beginning of what men must demand. May be he sees things clearer now. I sometimes think we’ll know a deal better what to think of such matters once we are free of the burden of the sinful flesh. But there’s always comfort in the thought that the Lord’s working in one way or another in all these things. He sees the fulfilment of His purpose all through, though we can’t. That’s what I comfort myself with when things seem blackest. The frost and the snow, the biting winds and the storms, all seem against the gardener; but by-and-bye he sees they all have their use, and his plants would not have done as well without them. I always go back to that when I’m perplexed and worried. The great Gardener will bring out His perfected garden on the earth in time; and it should be enough for us to be trying to help Him on in our little corner, without thinking He can’t rule the world without us.”

Bride smiled as she answered softly—

“Yes; though perhaps He wants to use some of us for great tasks, as He uses us all for little ones. But I know what you mean, Abner, and I feel with you. We can never fully understand God’s purposes till they are revealed to us in His perfect Kingdom; but we can all strive to live the life of the Kingdom here below, as far as our sinful natures will let us, and try to make just the little corner about us bear flowers and fruit, as a garden should. I do not think we shall be called upon for any great work. I think our lot will lie here, away in the west, in this little place. But, for my part, I shall be content if we can bring the hope and the life of the Kingdom into just this little corner of the vineyard—to our sisters and brothers of St. Bride’s Bay.”

THE END