And still, ever since he could remember, they had never gone to bed without the nightly lesson, and he did not like to do so on this night above all others, when the shadow of death had come nearer them than ever it had done in their lives before. Nervously he took up the two little Bibles which lay on a small table near the fireplace, under a beautiful print of Holman Hunt’s ‘Light of the World.’
‘Aren’t you going to read, Vivi,’ he said timidly, holding out one of them to his brother; but Vivian only shook his head and began pulling off his shoes.
Ronald sighed, but he felt that further words were useless. He knew that Vivian never liked to be argued with, especially when it was he, Ronald, who argued, so in silence he read his verses to himself, and knelt down to say his prayers. When he rose from his knees he found his brother in bed, with his face buried in the pillows.
He stood for a moment, perplexed how to act, and then he blew out the candle and went and sat down in the dark on the edge of Vivian’s bed.
‘Vivi, old chap,’ he said softly, ‘can’t you tell me what’s wrong? I feel sure that there is something worse than even Isobel’s illness. You haven’t said good-night to me, and you haven’t said your prayers.’
The only answer was a restless movement, and another sharp, strangled sob, and then, just as Ronald was making up his mind to go back to bed, feeling it was no use to ask any more questions, Vivian burst out, ‘I can’t say my prayers, Ronald; I daren’t. I have been so wicked. Oh, if you only knew!’
‘But God knows,’ said Ronald. ‘He knows how wicked we all are, and yet that doesn’t hinder Him listening to us. He will forgive us and give us strength to be better afterwards. I wish mother were here; she can explain things so much better than I can.’
‘Yes—but—if one has done something, and he doesn’t want to tell, God won’t hear him till he does,’ said Vivian desperately. ‘Do you remember that text that mother told us about, which says that if we have wickedness—iniquity or something is the word—in our heart, God won’t hear us? Oh Ronald, I’m like Achan the son of Carmi, who hid the golden wedge in his tent. I’ve hidden a golden wedge, and now God is cursing everybody for my sake. First Joe, then Isobel, and perhaps He’ll take mother and Dorothy and father and you.’
Ronald was really frightened. He remembered how Vivian had fainted in the morning, and he began to fear that all the excitement and trouble had turned his brain. He had heard of people getting brain-fever, and losing their reason when they had had some terrible shock or a great deal of worry. If his father had only been in the house! But he had heard the front door close a few minutes before, and he knew that he had gone out to see the sick girl of whom he had spoken. He thought of going for Lucy, and had turned towards the door to do so when it struck him that if there was any truth in what Vivian said, if he really had done something wrong, then it was not a thing to speak to a servant about, so he turned back to his brothers bedside instead.
‘It’s never too late to tell things, Vivi,’ he said soothingly. ‘Father has gone out just now, else you could have told him; so if I were you I should just tell God instead, and then go to sleep. Perhaps things may look different in the morning. Would you like me to call Lucy?’ he added doubtfully. ‘If you feel really ill I could go for her.’