“Yes; until the Kingdom,” answered Bride sadly, yet with a sudden lighting of the eyes. “Yes, Eustace, I know that so long as human nature is what it is, nothing can be done without evil creeping in. But I still think that if men would be content to leave results, and simply strive themselves after the best and highest good, and try and teach the ignorant and the degraded the one true and only way of raising themselves—if men would look to God for His teaching—from the highest to the lowest—trying in all things to do not their will but His—then I think the world would gradually raise itself without these cruel scenes of strife and bloodshed, without these heart-burnings and miserable factions. ‘Thy kingdom come!’ It is a prayer always on our lips; but do men try to apply the laws of God’s kingdom to this earth which He has made and they have marred?”
“I think that is about the last thing men of the present day think of,” answered Eustace, with a curious sidelong look at the earnest face beside him. “They want something more practical to go by. When it comes to be a question what God wills, every divine and every school of theology and philosophy has a different answer to give. Such an appeal as that would only make confusion worse confounded.”
A very wistful, sorrowful look crept into the fair young face.
“I was not thinking of schools of theology or philosophy,” she answered very quietly, “I was thinking of God Himself as revealed in His Incarnate Son; but I do not think we understand each other when we speak of that, Eustace.”
In very truth he did not understand her. Did she seriously believe that the affairs of the world could be directed by a Divine voice straight from heaven? It almost appeared sometimes as though she did, and yet in most matters Lady Bride, mystic and dreamer though she was, was not lacking in quiet common-sense and a fair amount of experience of such life as she had seen.
For a moment he stood silent beside her—they were on the terrace, looking down at the sparkling sea below. Then he roused himself, and changed the subject suddenly.
“Shall we go down to the shore and see Saul Tresithny? I have not succeeded in catching him yet. I do not think he tries to avoid me. Your gardener says he is much attached to me; but he has always been out with the boats. There seems plenty of fishing just now. I hope the poor fellow is not suffering from lack of employment.”
“I think not. There is always plenty of work with the boats in the summer months. It is the winter that is so hard for our people, except when they take to smuggling, as too many do. I am afraid that is what Saul will do when fishing gets slack. He always had a leaning towards any sort of adventure and danger. Abner managed to keep him away from the fishing-village as a lad, and when he went to the farm he had other work, and was too far off; but I am afraid how it will be with him now. I had hoped he would go to Mr. St. Aubyn and take care of his garden and horse, but he will not. Nobody can do anything with him—poor Saul!”
“I will see what I can do,” said Eustace, with hopeful confidence. “He is too good to turn into a mere fisherman and smuggler. There are traits of great promise in him. I suppose birth and blood does tell, and there is reason to believe that his father was a man of birth, I hear, although he may have been a villain. Certainly the man is very different from his fellows. I wonder whether he would come to London as my servant. I could do very well with another groom, and I know he has a great knack with horses. He might be very useful.”
“I wish he would,” said Bride earnestly. “It might be a turning-point in his life to get away from old associates and old ideas.”