"You are right; it is hard. We need to seek of God grace to forgive our enemies. In some cases, one must begin to serve before one can love. If a man tries to do good to his enemy, he will presently find that he loves him."
"Then how about revenge?" asked Gus, remembering his father's words. "Are we never to have our revenge on those who have hurt us?"
"Never," said the vicar emphatically; "the idea of revenge is mean, and low, and spiteful, unworthy of a Christian and a gentleman. Unless, indeed, we seek it in the manner St. Paul points out, 'If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.'"
Gus was silent, pondering the vicar's words. That was not the kind of revenge his father meant. No; his father had hated this man, Philip Darnell, and had deemed himself justified in hating him with the bitterest hatred. He had longed for the power to punish him for the evil he had done. It would have been joy to him to see his enemy suffer pain.
But a Christian must not hate his enemy. Gus had never heard the old saying that "A Christian is God Almighty's gentleman;" but he had long ago resolved that he would be a gentleman after the pattern of Jesus Christ, and the resolve had become a power in his life. Now by which was he most bound—the law of Christ, or the promise he had given to his father?
The boy's simple, ingenuous mind soon saw its way through the difficulty.
"When I made that promise to father," he said to himself, "I did not know what I know now. And father did not understand the beautiful ways of Jesus, and that I cannot truly be a gentleman unless I follow them; for if he had, he would not have asked me to make such a promise. I will keep the promise, though: I will seek to be revenged on Philip Darnell; but it shall be in the Christian way. I do not know how I shall do it, for he is little likely to hunger or thirst; but there may be some way in which I can heap coals of fire on his head."
Whilst these thoughts were passing through Gus' mind, Sebastian Mouncey was watching him curiously. What was working in his mind? What had he heard concerning Philip Darnell? His enemy, indeed! It was a strange fancy; but the thoughts of youth are often incomprehensible to older minds, and Sebastian Mouncey was not the man to despise them on that account. He did not press Gus to speak, but waited; and presently the boy of his own accord said—
"I will go to the mill, if you wish it, sir."
"That's right, my lad," said Mr. Mouncey heartily; "I believe it is the best opening I can find for you. The manager, Mr. Ellary, is a kind-hearted man, and you will do well with him."