Going home to pick up a few necessaries, a book lent to him by Miss Newton came in his way, and he felt drawn to carry it home, and see her face for the last time.
All unconscious of his trouble and of his intentions, the good lady told him of her strong desire to hear a celebrated preacher at a neighbouring church on the Sunday evening, but said that in her partial blindness and weakness, she was afraid to venture, unless he would have the extreme goodness, as she said, to take care of her. He saw that she wished it so much that he had not the heart to refuse, and he recollected likewise that very early on Monday morning would answer his purpose equally well.
It was the 7th of June. The Psalm was the 37th—the supreme lesson of patience. ‘Hold thee still in the Lord; and abide patiently on Him; and He shall bring it to pass. He shall make thy righteousness as clear as the light, and thy just dealing as the noonday.’
The awful sense of desolation seemed to pass away under those words, with that gentle woman beside him. And the sermon was on ‘Oh tarry thou the Lord’s leisure; be strong, and He shall comfort thine heart; and put thou thy trust in the Lord.’
Clarence remembered nothing but the text. But it was borne in upon him that his purpose of flight was ‘the old story,’—cowardice and virtual distrust of the Lord, as well as absolute cruelty to us who loved him.
When he had deposited Miss Newton at her own door, he whispered thanks, and an entreaty for her prayers.
And then he went home, and fought the battle of his life, with his own horrible dread of Mr. Castleford’s disappointment; of possible prosecution; of the shame at home; the misery of a life a second time blighted. He fought it out on his knees, many a time persuading himself that flight would not be a sin, then returning to the sense that it was a temptation of his worse self to be overcome. And by morning he knew that it would be a surrender of himself to his lower nature, and the evil spirit behind it; while, by facing the worst that could befall him, he would be falling into the hand of the Lord.
CHAPTER XXIV.
AFTER THE TEMPEST.
‘Nor deem the irrevocable past
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If rising on its wrecks at last
To something nobler we attain.’Longfellow.
All the rest of the family were out, and I was relieved by being alone with my distress, not forced to hide it, when the door opened and ‘Mr. Castleford’ was announced. After one moment’s look at me, one touch of my hand, he must have seen that I was faint with anxiety, and said, ‘It is all right, Edward; I see you know all. I am come from Bristol to tell your father that he may be proud of his son Clarence.’