The 'General' was sitting right back in his chair. He was an old man. The suggestion of age was accentuated by his attitude. His back was bowed, his head hung forward on his chest, his hands lay on his knees, as if the arms to which they were attached were limp and weary. He did not seem to be aware that he was being addressed, so that Mr. Treadman had to repeat his question. When it was put a second time he glanced up with a start, as if he had been brought back with a shock from the place of shadows in which his thoughts had been straying.
'I was thinking,' he replied.
'Of what? Will you not allow us to hear our thoughts on a subject whose magnitude bulks larger with each word we utter?'
The old man was silent, as if he were considering. Then he said, without altering his position:
'I was thinking that I knew more when I was young than I do now that I am old. All my life I have been sure--till now. Now, the first time that assurance is really needed, it is gone, and has left me troubled. God help us all!'
'Explain yourself, General.'
'That's another part of the trouble, that I'm pretty nearly afraid to explain. All the days of my life I've been crying: "Take courage! Put doubt behind you!" And now, when courage is what I most am wanting, it's fled; only doubt remains.'
'But, General, you of all others have no cause for doubt; and you've proved your courage on a hundred fields. You've not only fought the good fight yourself, you have shown others how to fight it too.'
'That's it--have I? As Mr. Philipps said, to-night there's a Presence in the air, I felt It as I came up the street, as I entered this house, and more and more as I've been seated in this room. And in that Presence I have grown afraid, fearful lest in all that I have done I have done wrong. I confess-- because It knows--that I have had doubts as to the propriety of my proceedings from the first. Like Saul, I seem to have been smitten with sudden blindness in order that I may see at last. I see that what Christ wants is not what I have given Him. I understood man's nature, but refused to understand His. I realised that there is nothing like sensationalism to attract a certain sort of men and women; I declined to realise that it does not attract Christ. Confident assertion pleases the mob, when it's in a certain humour, but not Him. Bands, uniforms, newspapers, catchwords--all the machinery of advertisement I have employed;--but He does not advertise. Worst of all, I've taught from a thousand platforms that a man may be a notorious sinner one minute and a child of Christ the next. I know that is not so.'
The old man stood up, his quavering tones rising in a shrill crescendo.