A Gamble with Life

by Silas K. Hocking

But when the preacher came to deal with the second part of his subject, Rufus felt all his old scepticism returning with a rush; and yet so reasonably did the preacher talk that he was compelled to listen. He did not speak like an advocate with a bad case. There were no evasions, no special pleadings, no attempts to browbeat witnesses, or to sail off on side issues. He spoke as one who had fought his way through every phase of doubt, and had reached the serene heights of absolute conviction.

Christ had met his needs, and had answered his questions, had solved the riddle of life.

Rufus shook his head more than once unconsciously. The argument from experience might be satisfactory enough to those who had the experience, but he wanted proof. The experience of another man was of very little value to him.

If he could be sure that Christ spoke with absolute authority on these questions that vexed the human mind, then would he find rest also, but how was he to get that assurance.

He walked home from chapel by his grandfather's side in silence. The old man was as little disposed to talk as Rufus, but for a different reason.

After dinner Rufus went for a long walk alone. He wanted to shake off the effects of the sermon. Some of the conclusions of the preacher had made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. The possibility of life being a sacred trust for the use, or abuse, of which he would be held responsible by a Supreme Being was distinctly disquieting, especially in view of the unpleasant possibility that was hanging over his head.

If life were not his own to do as he liked with—to spend or end how or when seemed good in his own eyes—then his attempt to gamble with it was more immoral than for a trustee or a lawyer to gamble with his client's property. Rufus had always prided himself on his honour. It was his sheet-anchor in all the mental storms through which he had passed; but if in throwing his life into pawn he had pawned his honour at the same time what was there left to him that was worth possessing? And if the worst should come to the worst, if, as he sometimes feared, his invention had been forestalled—not only a part of it, but the whole of it—if the demands of what he called honour should necessitate the giving up of his life, in what sort of moral dilemma would he find himself?

His compact with Muller began to appear in a more unpleasantly lurid light than it had ever done before. Could a man steal money to pay his debts with, and then boast of his honesty in paying? Could he discharge a debt of honour by an act that in itself was criminal?

It was dark when he got back to his grandfather's house, but the influence of the sermon was still upon him. He had passed cottages by the dozen from which had come sounds of mirth and festivity. Tregannon appeared to be enjoying itself to the full. The young people, untroubled about the future, were making merry in the hope and gladness of to-day; while he, having lost the faith of his childhood, had drifted into regions not only of hopelessness, but of peril.