A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
On Thy kind arms I fall;
Be Thou my strength and righteousness,
My Saviour, and my all.
Arthur Knight had uttered these words for himself many a time. But still he knew, and never failed to realise, that there is another side to it all. He delighted to dwell on the heroic side of Christ’s men. He believed that what St. Paul said every disciple of Jesus might say, “I can do all things through Christ, who strengtheneth me,” and that the inspiring song of victory which the Apostle raised might be echoed by every one whom faith made strong: that the Christian indeed should live so grand a life that he also might declare at the last, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.”
As he thought of all the possibilities which his father had had, of the life which he had lived and the life that he might have lived, he was filled with sorrow—just such sorrow as many of us are preparing for those who know and love us best. But Arthur had a child’s faith as well as a man’s loyalty; and he did what we all have to do—and what, indeed, we are all glad to do—he left his dead with God. He knew every saving clause in the history of the life that had ended—what relentings and repentances and upward wistful glances there had been, and how fierce was the struggle between the better and the worse nature of the man! God knew it all, and that was enough. “I know not where he is; but, O my Father! he is in Thy hands, commended to Thy love, and I am not afraid to leave him with Thee,” he said; and with these words he was comforted.
The great manufacturer of the East-end had left a fortune considerably in excess of the amount which he had mentioned to his heir; and the young man was too sensible to feel other than glad when he had the facts of his inheritance placed before him in figures which told their own story. With the exception of a few legacies to old servants, among whom Arthur was gratified to see Hancourt’s name, everything was left to him absolutely. Houses and lands, shares and investments were all at his disposal, together with the business by which they had been won. But to the new master these were chiefly valuable as means to an end. That which thrilled his soul, and caused his eyes to flash and his heart to glow, was the fact that nearly three thousand persons, men and women, youths and girls, looked to him for work and wages. He needed no one to remind him that whatever of other thoughts and plans were in his mind, the duty that lay the nearest to him was the care of these people—their bodies and their souls. And he never thought of this without a thrill of joy. “They are My People, and, God helping me, I will do my duty by them,” he said, and he meant much more than most men when he said it.
It was with considerable emotion that Arthur Knight went through the factories and saw his people at work. They were all English, like himself, and he felt drawn towards them for this reason, if for no other—for he was a true-hearted patriot. Many of them, too, were nearer him because they were sharers in his faith, served the same Master, and hoped for the same heaven. He thought he could tell which these were by the look upon their faces, by their demeanour, and even their dress: for his religion was very simple and sincere; and he had not a doubt but that godliness exalts a man in every respect, and is profitable altogether, for the present as well as the future life. These men and women, who were members of Christian churches, and, therefore, must be living their daily life on a higher level than the rest, having nobler motives to guide them, would, he hoped, be very much his friends and helpers in his future efforts to benefit the others. Knight looked upon them all, indeed, as his friends; a great change and deterioration would have to be wrought in him before he could regard them as “hands” merely; to him they were men and women, boys and girls; they were heads and hearts, much more than hands, and were to be his companions as well as his servants in the future. To him “the fatherhood of God” and “the brotherhood of man” were not well-sounding phrases only, but very significant realities; but he knew that he would have to prove this to his people before they would believe it. So he was busy with plans, which he confided to his friend John Dallington, who came to spend a few days with him. He would at once provide a reading-room for the men, and he would get Miss Wentworth and her band of helpers to look after the women. For the boys—great, rough, uncouth fellows as some of them were—he had a warm heart, a resourceful brain, and a patient, tolerant temper; and the first thing he did was to turn the top floor of his house, which had hitherto been unoccupied, into class rooms of different kinds for their especial comfort and benefit.
One morning he told Dallington that he was going to see a former employé of his father’s, and invited him to accompany him. “I must try to master the broad facts and general principles of the business myself,” he said, “and I have a hard spell of work before me. But Hancourt can help me. I should like your opinion of him. Come with me and see him. It is a pleasant errand. My father has left him a hundred pounds, and I will give him the cheque with the news. And Hancourt has two children well worth knowing.”
When they reached the house the children were as usual very much in evidence. “How do you do, Mr. Arthur?” said the girl, and when he lifted her she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Mother said I was to kiss you as soon as ever I saw you, because your father is dead.”