"Father," said Henry, softly, "It is the Bible that is up for authority."
"Oh, you needn't quote Bible to me. I reckon I understand that quite as well as you do, or your saintly teacher. You have never been too nice to eat the bread or wear the clothes bought with the Sunday earnings of the horses and their drivers. Seems to me you are making extra fine distinctions. And, too, I wonder if your pious friends down there know any difference between my money and other people's? They are glad enough to have me pay twenty-five dollars for a pew that I never sit in, and in return they put nonsensical notions into your head. I believe in religion, but I don't believe in that kind. The whole concern is a humbug."
Now Mr. Trafton did not think any such thing as he indicated in his last remark. He did believe the very truths which had been put into Henry's heart through the teachings of the Sunday-school, though he had so long practically denied the gospel that it was only now and then that his conscience stirred, and then he grew bold and defiant.
Henry was very unhappy. He went to evening service, but hurried out to avoid an interview with Miss Wynn. Reaching home he went directly to his own room. He took his Bible, turned over the leaves, read a few verses here and there. There were plenty of promises, plenty of verses, that had comforted him at other times; but it seemed that there was no word for him now, and he closed the book, saying, "There's no promise to Sabbath-breakers, and that is just what I am. But father says it is not wicked, that it is necessary. And Mr. Brown came for a carriage to go to the springs this evening, and he is a member of our church. If he could go to ride instead of going to evening service, is it wrong for me to obey father and go off in the daytime? Dear me, I don't know anything about it. Anyway I can't stand it much longer. If God only would hear me."
And then the perplexed and troubled boy prayed, "O God, my Father, help me. I want to do right, but I am so miserably weak and cowardly that I am afraid to resist my father's will. O God, don't let me be so tempted. Take away my trouble. Deliver me out of this dark place. Please to show my father how wrong it is, and do not let him ask me to drive out any more upon the Sabbath." This was the burden of his prayer, not "Give me strength to follow the right," but "Deliver me out of my trouble."
Were the events of the week in answer to that prayer?
Wednesday morning Mr. Trafton said—
"Henry, a gentleman, a stranger in town, wants to go out to Crandall's. You may take the black horse and a light buggy and drive out for him."
"O father, that horse! Can't I have Lady Bess?"
"No; Mrs. Jenks wants Bess to drive out by herself this afternoon, and you will not be back in time," replied Mr. Trafton, adding, "You needn't be afraid to drive the black; he has been very sober lately. I am not afraid to trust you with him."