Confession—reparation! From these Gaspar shrank, as the patient from the knife of the surgeon. Could no milder remedy be found, could there be no compromise with conscience? Isa dared suggest none, though she would have given all that she possessed on earth to save her brother from the bitter humiliation of acknowledging to Cora Madden the base fraud which he had committed. The strength of Isa’s faith and obedience was brought to painful proof on that night. If she had yielded but a point, if she had counselled delay, if she had administered an opiate to the tortured conscience of her brother, as all her tender woman’s nature, ay, and all her woman’s pride, pleaded for her to do, Gaspar would, like Felix, have put off the hated duty for a more convenient season, and the precious moment for action would have passed away for ever. But Isa had the fear of God before her eyes; she had a keen perception that this was a crisis in the spiritual life of her brother, that his soul’s interests for eternity might hang on the result of his decision on that night. Her voice had aroused him from the death-like stupor of the body, her voice was to be also the means of quickening the lethargic soul. The whisper of delay in his case could but be the breathing of the enemy who would lure him to destruction. Isa reminded Gaspar of the resolution of Zaccheus, when he had received the Lord into his home and his heart: it was not “I will give,” but I give; it was not “I will restore,” but I restore. Gaspar was irresolute, undecided, but his good angel was beside him to help his weak nature in the great mental conflict. It was almost midnight before that trying interview ended, and the brother and sister separated, the one to sink into a troubled slumber, the other to return to the chamber of Cora, intrusted by Gaspar with the responsible and most painful charge of making for him that humiliating confession which he himself had not the courage to make.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A TRIUMPH.
With a very slow step, aching heart, and knees that trembled beneath her, Isa reascended the staircase. One apparently insuperable difficulty had been overcome,—Gaspar had consented to make full reparation. Isa could feel thankful for this; but she had now a breathing-space for consideration, and with inexpressible repugnance she now recoiled from the task set before her. It had been hard to banish from her heart resentful emotions in regard to Cora; it had been hard to Isa to receive an enemy into her home, to tend her as a sister, to risk health and life in her service. But there had been nothing to wound pride in all this; on the contrary, Isa had stood in the elevated position of a benefactress, as one enjoying the noblest kind of revenge by repaying injuries with kindness. The consciousness of this had brought a feeling of gratification. But her position was painfully altered now. Isa must humble herself in the presence of a woman whom she neither loved nor respected; she must, as the representative of her brother, confess guilt—ask for forgiveness—plead for mercy! Isa stopped half-way on the stairs, supporting herself on the banister, for every fibre in her frame was trembling with strong emotion. She had ventured, as it were, to the outskirts of the camp of Midian, and felt that she lacked courage to strike the final blow for freedom. A silent cry for help arose to heaven from the depths of a suffering heart.
Cora was one to whom it would be especially painful to make a confession such as that which burdened the soul of Isa. Miss Madden had been brought much into contact with the world, had imbibed its spirit, and adopted one of its most dangerous ideas,—namely, a disbelief in the existence of faith as a ruling motive. Notwithstanding the noble example of piety which she had had before her in her own brother, Cora had persisted in regarding all men as governed either by self-interest or the love of approbation.
“Sir Robert Walpole said, and said truly,” Cora had once lightly observed, “that every man has his price; only some will have it told down in hard cash, and others are quite contented with the paper-money of praise.”
Thus Cora refused to see the reflected glory of the Saviour in His people: however brightly their light might shine, she believed that it was fed from an earthly source, and eagerly caught at every instance of inconsistency in the servants of God to confirm her theory that they only wore piety as a mask, and, in fact, were much the same with the show of religion as the rest of the world were without it.