Such questions are only of casual importance to the material man, but to Ian they were the breath of his nostrils. He lived only to solve them, and to pluck the Very Truth from the assertions and contradictions in which it lay buried. By night and by day he was in the thick of this storm, and was often so weary that he fell into long sleepy stupors. For great griefs and anxieties have these respites from suffering, and it was likely this very lethargy which overtook the Disciples in the sorrowful Garden of Olives. And this spiritual warfare was not a thing to be decided in a few days, or even weeks. Slowly, as the weary months went on, it disintegrated the Higher Life, leaving the man acutely intellectual, but without spiritual hope or comfort. It was mainly by Mrs. Caird's pleadings and reasonings that he had even been kept at his post in the Church of the Disciples.
"What do you expect to gain by leaving your work, Ian?" she asked. "If God should send a word to comfort you, it would doubtless come as it came to the good men and prophets of old—when they were on the threshing-floor, or among the flocks, or about their daily duties. You can at least do as Dr. Scott does—keep faithfully your obligation to the Presbytery, and, as a matter of professional honesty, preach good Calvinistic sermons to those who desire them. It might be that while you were helping and encouraging others the Divine Whisper would reach your heart. At any rate, it is more likely to come to you in the stress and duty of life than when you are thinking yourself into a stupor in that haunted study of yours."
"Haunted!"
"Yes, Ian, haunted by doubts that gather strength by habit—and by fears, that, like the needle, verge to the pole till they tremble and tremble into certainty."
And, though Ian had declared that he never could or would preach as a mere professional duty, he found himself obliged to do so. It was necessary to have a reason for his sermons, for without a reason he could neither write nor preach them; and he found in the faithful fulfillment of his ministerial vows the only substitute for that fervent zeal which had once touched his lips as with a live coal from the altar.
Indeed, many of the oldest sitters in the Church of the Disciples said that he had never before preached such powerful and unanswerable Calvinistic sermons—sermons that "crumpled up sinners spiritually" until the business obligations of Monday morning restored their elasticity. And though Mrs. Caird knew well that the passion and fiery denunciation of these sermons came out of the misery and the ill-conditioned temperament of the preacher, she approved his eloquence. With a sort of satisfaction she said to herself, "If these people like the God John Calvin made, I am glad that Ian shows Him to them—'predestinating from all eternity, one part of mankind to everlasting happiness and another to endless misery, and led to make this distinction by no other motive than his own good pleasure and free will.'"
To Ian she said, "Your people can make no mistake about the kind of God they have to meet, and I am glad that lately you have been bringing your sermons to the counter and the hearthstone. You began your sermon to-day, as I think Christ must often have done, 'What man among you.' Men like to be appealed to, even if they have to admit they are wrong."
"I thought I might be too severe—when I consider it was a sinner correcting sin. But, Jessy, it is such blind, weary work, preaching what I do not believe."
"You do believe it. You know well it is the only Scripture for the dour, proud, self-reliant souls who have accepted it. I wonder, indeed, if they would respect a God who forgave his enemies, and who thought rich men would hardly win their way into the kingdom of heaven. As for hell, it is the necessary place for all who do not think as they do, or who in any other way offend them."
"Oh, that I knew where to find him!" cried Ian, and the passionate sorrow and entreaty in the lifted eyes and hands filled Mrs. Caird with a great pity, and she answered softly: