Chapter Ten.
Light in the Dark Dwelling.
The day that followed the great temperance meeting was one full of excitement to the operatives of Crossbourne. Every mill and workshop resounded with the eager hum of conversation and conjecture touching the marvellous occurrence of the previous evening—the speech and conduct of William Foster. Of course a variety of distorted versions of the matter flew abroad, and were caught and carried home into the country by some who lived at a distance from the town. Among these versions was a strongly affirmed and as strongly believed account of the last night’s occurrences, which set forth how William Foster, with a picked party of his friends, had forced their way to the top of the hall, and were in the act of mounting the platform for the purpose of turning the vicar out of the chair, when a voice of unearthly loudness was heard to shout, “Forbear!”—upon which the meeting broke up in wild confusion, leaving Foster prostrated on the ground by some invisible and mysterious power, where he lay till brought back to consciousness by the joint efforts of Mr Maltby and Thomas Bradly; after which, at their earnest suggestion, he there and then signed the pledge.
Foster’s own companions, however, had not been altogether taken by surprise. For some weeks past he had been absent from his club, and from the public-house, and when questioned on the subject had given short and evasive answers. A change had been coming over him—that was clear enough; but whence it originated even those who had been the most intimate with him were at a loss to conjecture. And now on the morning after the meeting, when he walked into the mill-yard, while some looked on him with the sort of wonder with which a crowd would gape at some strange animal, the like of which they had neither seen nor heard of before, others began to assail him with gibes and taunts and coarse would-be witticisms. But Foster bore it all unmoved, never uttering a word in reply, but going on steadily with his work. As the men, however, were about to leave for their homes, after the mill had loosed, a sneering, sour-looking fellow, one Enos Wilkinson, who had gathered a little crowd about him, and was watching for Foster, whose work detained him a little later than the ordinary hands, stepped across his path, and raising his voice, cried, “Come now, Saint Foster, you’ll be bringing out a nice little book about your conversion, to edify us poor sinners who are still in heathen darkness. When do you mean to favour us with the first edition?”—“The day after you become sober and sensible, Enos,” was Foster’s reply, and he walked on, leaving his persecutors unprepared with an answer.
Two hours later, and Thomas Bradly might be seen standing outside Foster’s house, with a happy smile on his face, and a short whispered conversation going on between two parts of himself. “Now, then, Thomas, you’re in for it.” “Ay, to be sure; and in for a good thing too.” “What’ll Will Foster say? And what’ll you say, Thomas?” “Ah! Well, all that’s best left in the Lord’s hands.”
After this a loud, decided knock on Thomas’s part, and then the cautious tread of a woman inside.
“All right, missus; it’s only me, Thomas Bradly.”
No answer for a minute, and then the heavier tread of a man. Foster himself opened the door, and holding out his hand, said,—
“Come in, Thomas. You’re just the man I’ve been wanting to see.”
“And you’re just the man I’m right glad to hear say so,” was the other’s reply.
The two men walked into the inner room together. All was very neat, and the whole place wore an air of comfort far different from what had been its appearance in days past. But the greatest change was in Foster’s wife. Bradly, who had met her often in the street or in the shops, could hardly believe her to be the same. “Ha, ha!” said he inwardly to himself; “the Lord’s been at work here, I can see.” Yes! There was that marked change on the features which can come only from a changed heart. There was peace on that face—a peace whose tranquil light had never shone there before. There was not joy yet, but there was peace. Not, indeed, peace unmixed, for there was a shade of earth’s sadness there still; but God’s peace was there, like a lunar rainbow, beautiful in its heavenly colouring cast upon the clouds of sorrow, but not intensely bright. As she held out her hand to Bradly to give him a friendly welcome, he could see that her eyes were full of tears. “All right,” he said to himself; “the work’s begun.”
As he was seating himself on one side of the fire, his eye fell on a little, stout, shabbily-bound volume lying in a corner near some showily-ornamented books. Could it really be a Bible? “Right again,” thought Thomas; “I ain’t often mistaken about that book. The secret’s out; I see what has worked the change.”
“I’m truly glad, but almost ashamed, to see you, Thomas,” began Foster, seating himself opposite his guest. “However, I’m glad now of this opportunity of expressing my regret for the many hard and undeserved things I’ve spoken against you, both to your face and behind your back.”
“Never give it another thought, William,” cried the other. “You’ve never done me the least harm; but quite the other way. It’s as good as physic, and a deal better than some physic, to hear what other people think of us, even if it ain’t all of it quite true to the life.”
“Ah! But I did you injustice, Thomas.”
“Never mind if you did. You never said half as much evil of me as I knew of myself. But let by-gones be by-gones. You’ve made me happier than I can tell you; for I can see plainly enough as the Lord has been laying his loving hands on you and your missus.”
“You are right, Thomas; and I know it will give you real pleasure to hear how it has all come about.—So sit down, Kate, and help me out with my story.”
Ah, what a different scene was this from that sorrowful time when the poor, broken-hearted young mother leant hopelessly over the cradle of her little one thirsting for that which she knew not where to find! Now the same wife and mother sat with a smile of sweet contentment, busily plying her knitting, while her husband told the simple story of how the God of the Bible had “brought the blind by a way that they knew not.”
“You know what I have been, Thomas,” began Foster. “Well, I am not ashamed now to confess that I never was really happy, nor satisfied with my own creed. Spite of my conviction of my own superior knowledge, I could not help acknowledging to my inward self that you were right and I was wrong; at least, I saw that your creed did for you what my creed could not do for me. It was very pleasant and flattering, of course, to be looked up to as an oracle by the other members of my club, and to get their applause when I said sharp things against religion and men whose views differed from our own. But all the while I despised those very companions of mine, and their praises; and, what’s more, I despised myself.
“And another thing—I had no real happiness at home, nor poor Kate neither. I was disappointed in her—she won’t mind my saying so now—and she was disappointed in me. We had nothing to bind our hearts together but a love which wanted a stronger cement than mere similarity of tastes. Besides which—for I may as well speak out plainly now while I’m about it—it was poor satisfaction to come home and find books lying about, and scarce a spark of fire in the grate; no tea getting ready, but, instead of it, twenty good reasons why things were not all straight and comfortable. And these reasons were but a poor substitute for the comforts that were not forthcoming, and only made matters worse. And if there was neglect on her part, there was plenty of fault-finding on mine. I was sharp and unreasonable; and then we both of us lost our temper, and I was glad to seek other company, and began to care less and less for my home, and more for the public-house and for the drink which gives the inspiration to the conversation you meet with in such places.
“Sometimes things would go on a little better, but not for long. And when we got to angry words with one another, we had no higher authority than ourselves to appeal to when we would set one another right. Thomas, I see this more plainly every day now. Freethinkers—would-be atheists, like my former self—are at an immense disadvantage compared with Christians in this respect. A Christian has a recognised, infallible authority to which he can appeal—the will of his God, as set forth in the Word of his God. When he differs from a fellow-Christian, both can go to that authority, and abide by its decision. Christians will do this if they are honest men, and really love one another. We freethinkers have no such court of appeal. However, let that pass.
“Things went on as I’ve been telling you, and were getting worse. Our two hearts were getting further apart every day, and colder and colder towards each other. This went on, and the breach kept widening, till a few weeks ago. You’ll not have forgotten, I know, poor Joe Wright’s sad end. Well, it was a few days after the accident that I came home much the worse for liquor, I’m ashamed to say, and in a particularly bad temper. Things had not been pleasant at the club. One of the members had been breaking the rules; and when I pointed this out, I was met with opposition, and the determined display of an intention on the part of several others to side with the offender. Words ran high, and I spoke my mind pretty freely, and received in return such a shower of abuse as fairly staggered me. So I betook myself to the public-house, and drank glass after glass to drown my uncomfortable reflections, and then went home.
“The drink, instead of driving away my mortification, only made me more irritable; and when I got into my own house, I was ready to find fault with everything, and to vent the bitterness of my spirit on my poor little wife. But, to my surprise, she did not answer me back, far less repay my disparaging remarks with usury, which she might very well have done, and would have done a few days before. I could not help seeing, too, that she had been taking pains to make the room look tidier than usual. My supper was ready for me, my slippers set by the fender, and the arm-chair drawn up near the fire. I did not choose to make any remark on this at the time; indeed, I got all the more cross, because I was annoyed by the sense of my own injustice in being angry with her. So poor Kate had but a sad time of it that night.
“However, I had made a note in my mind of what I had seen, and I was curious to mark if this change in domestic matters would continue. To my surprise, and, I am ashamed to say, not altogether to my gratification, I found that it did continue. I was suspicious as to the motive and reason for this change, and therefore not satisfied. So I took the improvement in my poor wife’s temper and conduct very surlily; the real fact being, I now believe, that I was inwardly vexed by being forced to feel that she was showing by her behaviour to me her superiority to myself. But the change still continued, and I could detect no unworthy motive for it; so at last Kate’s loving ways and patient forbearance got the victory, and then I began to look around for the cause of this transformation. What could it have been that had made my wife so different, and my home so different?
“While I now freely confessed to her my pleasure at the improvement, and endeavoured to repay her loving attentions by coming home regularly in good time and sober, I forbore to question her as to what had made such a difference in her, and she was evidently anxious to avoid the subject. But I was resolved to find out how this new state of things had come about, and an opportunity for doing so soon presented itself. One evening there was a break-down at the mill, and I returned home earlier than usual. I was getting near the house, when I heard my wife singing, and the tune was clearly a hymn tune. The secret was discovered now. I took off my boots, and crept slowly up to the door. The singing had stopped, and all was quiet. Then I heard Kate’s voice gently reading out loud to herself, and the words she read, though I could not catch them distinctly, were manifestly not those of any book of science or amusement: I could tell that by the seriousness of the tone of her voice. The conviction then came strongly upon me that she was reading the Bible, and that this book was the cause of the great change in her. A thousand thoughts stirred in my heart. I durst not venture to look in at the window, lest she should see me, for I had not at all made up my mind what to do. So I went back a little distance, put on my boots again, and came into the house as if nothing had happened.
“I was unusually silent that night, and I saw Kate looking aside at me now and then with a half-frightened glance, as if she was afraid that I was going to change back to my old unkind ways. I watched her very narrowly, and she saw it, and was uneasy. The fact was, I wanted to get at her Bible, if she really had one, and I had not yet the courage to speak to her about it. She knew how I had talked to her against it, and made a mock at it, and I couldn’t yet humble myself enough to ask for a sight of it. I noticed, however, that she looked a little anxiously at me when I turned down the baby’s bed-clothes in the cradle to have a look at him; and as I could see no Bible anywhere about the room, it darted into my mind that she had hidden it under the clothes. So when she was gone up into the bedroom, to set things to rights upstairs, I found the book I was looking for stowed snugly away, and began to read it as eagerly as if it had been a rich man’s will leaving me all his property.”
“You weren’t far wrong there, William,” broke in Thomas Bradly; “for the gospel is our heavenly Father’s will and testament, making us his heirs; and it’s written with his own hand, and sealed with the blood of his dear Son. But go on, William.”
“I don’t doubt but you’re right,” resumed Foster. “Well, as I read the little Bible, I was quite astonished, for I saw how utterly ignorant I had been of its contents and teaching. Ah, yes; it’s one thing to know a few texts, just enough to furnish matter for censure and ridicule, and quite a different thing to read the very same book with a sincere desire to learn and understand what it has to tell us. I found it so, I can assure you. So I learnt from that humble little Bible of Kate’s what all my philosophy and all the philosophy in the world could never teach me.
“It isn’t to the point now, but I’ll tell you another time how this Bible came into Kate’s hands; for of course we had not one of our own in the house. A singular chance I should have called it a short time ago; but I’m coming more and more to your mind, Thomas, that chance is only a wrong and misleading term for the guiding hand of One whom I now hope to trust in, love, and obey, however unworthily.”
“The Lord be praised, his blessed name be praised!” cried Thomas Bradly, while the tears ran fast down his cheeks.
“Yes,” said Foster reverently, “he may well be praised, for I have indeed good reason to praise him.—So you see I had got to the bottom of the mystery at last, and that little book has become to me now worth a thousand times its own weight in gold.
“Day after day I went on reading it by stealth, and every day I wondered more and more at its marvellous suitableness to my own case. And then I began to do that which a few weeks back I should have looked upon as simply an evidence of insanity in a man of my views. I began to pray. I hardly dared make the attempt at first. It seemed to me that were I to venture to address the great Being whose existence I had denied, and whose name I had constantly blasphemed, a flash of lightning or some other sudden exertion of his power would strike me dumb. But I did venture at last to offer up an earnest cry for mercy and pardon in the name of that Saviour who invites us to offer our prayers in his name; and then it seemed as though a mountain were lifted from my heart, and blindness were removed from my eyes.
“Next day, after tea, I quietly asked Kate for the Bible. I shall never forget her look as long as I live. Fear, hope, joy followed one another like sunshine breaking through the clouds. Could I be in earnest? She did not hesitate long, for she saw that in my face which told her that she might trust me with her treasure. Then she brought out the book from its hiding-place, put it on the table by me, and throwing her arms round my neck, wept away the sorrows of years. And it may be that at that time angels looked down upon us, and shed tears of joy to see two poor penitent sinners thus ‘sitting at the feet of their Saviour, clothed, and in their right mind.’”
For a while no one spoke, for all were too deeply moved. At last Foster continued: “I knew I should have to come out on the right side openly sooner or later, but you may be sure it would be no easy matter. However, I had made up my mind: it would have to be done some time or other, so, as the Annual Temperance Meeting was soon to come off—I knew that, for Joe Wright’s party were boasting of what they meant to do—I determined to show my colours by joining your society, and you have seen the result.”
“Yes, William,” said Bradly, cheerily, “I see it, and I bless the Lord for it; and if he has made me in any way an unworthy instrument in helping to bring about this change, I can truly say that he has paid me back interest a thousandfold for any little I’ve ever done or suffered for him.”
“Then, Thomas,” said the other earnestly, “you may be pleased to know that it was your hand that gave the first blows to the nail, though, it was my dear wife that was the means of driving it home. I often thought I could easily knock down your arguments, and, though I knew you had the best of it—for you had honesty and truth on your side—yet when I went home after one of our talks, I’ve vexed myself many a time by thinking, ‘Well, now, if I’d only thought of this or that thing, I might have floored him.’ But there was one thing that always floored me, and that was ‘the logic of the life;’ I couldn’t find an answer to that. And not only so, but, as I said a little while ago, I saw that the religion of Jesus Christ made you truly happy, and I knew that my free-thinking never did that for me nor for any of my like-minded companions; so that deep down in my heart a voice was constantly saying, ‘Tommy Tracks is right.’ And now I’m sure that he is so. Thomas, I now ask your friendship and your help, as I have already asked your forgiveness.”
Bradly wrung the other’s hand with a hearty grip, and then said, “You shall have them, William. I know you’ll be all the better for an earthly friend or two, for there’ll want a deal of backing up just at first. But oh, I’m so truly thankful that you and your missus have got the best Friend of all on your side, who will never leave you nor forsake you. Yes, come what will, you can go to One now who will keep peace in your conscience, peace in your heart and peace and love in your home.”
By Foster’s request, before they parted, Thomas Bradly knelt with them and offered a prayer. Ah, what a sight! Glorious even for angels to look down upon! Those three uniting in prayer—the old disciple; the blasphemer, persecutor, and injurious; and the till late Christless wife—all now one in Jesus, bowed at his footstool, while the humble servant of the Lord poured out his heart in simple, fervent supplication and praise, as all bent head and knee in the felt presence of the unseen God.
Next Sunday Foster was at church in the morning, and was there with his wife in the evening, Mrs Bradly having undertaken to look after the baby. As for Bradly himself, his face was a sight worth seeing on that Sunday. It was always brighter than usual on the Lord’s-day; but on this particular Sabbath every line of his features shone with a glow of gladness, as though, like Moses, he had just come down from the mount. It need hardly be said that the vicar’s heart also deeply rejoiced. As for the inhabitants of Crossbourne generally, some were glad, with a spice of caution in their gladness; some shook their heads and smiled, meaning thereby to let all men know that, in case Foster should not persevere in his new career, they, at any rate, had never been over-sanguine as to the genuineness of his reformation; some simply looked grave; while the profligate and the profane gnashed their teeth with envy hatred, and malice, and exchanged vehement asseverations of “how they’d pay off the sneaking humbug of a deserter, and no mistake.”