“Man’s forgiveness give—and take.”
“Can’t say ’bout dat, Massa; but when de good Lawd sends me a message I’s boun’ ter do His bidden.” And as he arose and faced his questioner like a great watch-dog at bay, Hernando did not doubt his ability to do so. He made no reply to Reuben’s last remark; had unconsciously quailed before such bull-dog ferocity in “gentle, patient Reuben.” He looked up the mountain side until his gaze rested on the rocks about “Old Ninety-Nine.” It was one of those magical nights in late winter when grim Time seems making a final effort to rejuvenate, each rock and frost-bound tree glittering with gems, while over his hoary head is flung the soft veil of moonlight. “Nature, they tell us,” he mused, “is a harmonious expression of divine will, and human nature is the crowning masterpiece; that her laws are just, and she does not discriminate between transgressing a physical and a moral one; that justice is ultimately done; but
‘’Tis education moulds the common mind,
Just as the twig is bent the tree’s inclined.’”
Not yet had he mastered the teaching lately given by an eminent professor in one of our eastern universities: “While science has in past years been disclosing to us the evolution of worlds, while it has been explaining the evolution of life, it is now beginning to tell us of the evolution of mind. While it has found a sufficient cause for the evolution of worlds in the physical laws of nature, while it has found the efficient cause of the evolution of life in the laws of strife and struggle for existence, it is beginning to recognize to-day that the only law under which is possible the evolution of mind and soul is the law which was disclosed two thousand years ago by the lowly Nazarene—faith, hope and love, and greatest of these is love.” Had he rightly interpreted the message of this “lowly Nazarene,” this misdirected creature of circumstances would have seen that God’s laws are Nature’s laws. As a man sows, so he reaps, not “figs from thistles,” nor harmony from discord. As Hernando stood here in the window, a strange peace came over him. Did he suspect that this renunciation was a pivotal point in his life? Did he faintly discern that nothing else than law, love was the command, “Work out your own salvation in fear and trembling,” assured that, as Emerson so truly said: “There is a guidance for each of us and by lowly listening we shall hear the right word.”
Hernando turned to speak to Reuben but he was alone. Sounds from below indicated that Granny was coming to bed, and soon her feeble footsteps were heard ascending the stairs. She leaned heavily on her son’s arm and, on reaching her room, seemed completely exhausted. No stimulant had ever passed her lips, and now she sternly declined the glass of wine proffered by Mr. De Vere, saying she had not arrived at the age of eighty-seven to first taste the cup of poison.
“But, mother,” her son protested, “you are breathless. Stimulants are all right in their place. I insist on your taking this.”
“John!”
Mr. De Vere beat a hasty retreat and called Eletheer.
Of late Granny had been steadily but surely failing, her usually severe manner replaced by one peculiarly gentle, and Eletheer noticed with delight how softened in Granny’s eyes had become her own many faults. To-night she looked seriously ill, and after the exertion of disrobing and preparing for the night was over, she fell back panting on her pillow.