Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 133.djvu/91

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
THE MARQUIS OF LOSSIE.
85

of such things should be the means, the only means, of their gaining something in its very nature so much better that ——"

"But," interrupted Clementina, "if they don't care about anything better — if they are content as they are?"

"Should he, then, who called them into existence be limited in his further intents for the perfecting of their creation by their notions concerning themselves who cannot add to their life one cubit, such notions being often consciously dishonest? If he knows them worthless without something that he can give, shall he withhold his hand because they do not care that he should stretch it forth? Should a child not be taught to ride because he is content to run on foot?"

"But the means, according to your own theory, are so frightful!" said Clementina.

"But suppose he knows that the barest beginnings of the good he intends them would not merely reconcile them to those means, but cause them to choose his will at any expense of suffering? I tell you, Lady Clementina," continued Malcolm, rising, and approaching her a step or two, "if I had not the hope of one day being good like God himself, if I thought there was no escape out of the wrong and badness I feel within me, and know I am not able to rid myself of without supreme help, not all the wealth and honors of the world could reconcile me to life."

"You do not know what you are talking of," said Clementina coldly and softly, without lifting her head.

"I do," said Malcolm.

"You mean you would kill yourself but for your belief in God?"

"By life I meant being, my lady. If there were no God, I dared not kill myself, lest worse should be waiting me in the awful voids beyond. If there be a God, living or dying is all one — so it be what he pleases."

"I have read of saints," said Clementina, with cool dissatisfaction in her tone, uttering such sentiments" ("Sentiments!" said Malcolm to himself), "and I do not doubt such were felt or at least imagined by them; but I fail to understand how, even supposing these things true, a young man like yourself should, in the midst of a busy world, and with an occupation which, to say the least ——"

Here she paused. After a moment Malcolm ventured to help her: "Is so far from an ideal one, would you say, my lady?"

"Something like that," answered Clementina, and concluded, "I wonder how you can have arrived at such ideas?"

"There is nothing wonderful in it, my lady," returned Malcolm. "Why should not a youth, a boy, a child — for as a child I thought about what the kingdom of heaven could mean — desire with all his might that his heart and mind should be clean, his will strong, his thoughts just, his head clear, his soul dwelling in the place of life? Why should I not desire that my life should be a complete thing, and an outgoing of life to my neighbor? Some people are content not to do mean actions: I want to become incapable of a mean thought or feeling; and so I shall be before all is done."

"Still, how did you come to begin so much earlier than others?"

"All I know as to that, my lady, is that I had the best man in the world to teach me."

"And why did not I have such a man to teach me? I could have learned of such a man too."

"If you are able now, my lady, it does not follow that it would have been the best thing for you sooner. Some children learn far better for not being begun early, and will get before others who have been at it for years. As you grow ready for it, somewhere or other you will find what is needful for you in a book or a friend, or, best of all, in your own thoughts — the eternal thought speaking in your thought."

It flashed through her mind, "Can it be that I have found it now — on the lips of a groom?" Was it her own spirit or another that laughed strangely within her. "Well, as you seem to know so much better than other people," she said, "I want you to explain to me how the God in whom you profess to believe can make use of such cruelties. They seem to me more like the revelling of a demon'

"My lady," remonstrated Malcolm, "I never pretended to explain. All I say is, that if I had reasons for hoping there was a God, and if I found, from my own experience and the testimony of others, that suffering led to valued good, I should think, hope, expect to find, that he caused suffering for reasons of the highest, purest, and kindest import, such as when understood must be absolutely satisfactory to the sufferers themselves. If a man cannot believe that, and if he thinks pain the worst evil of all, then of course he cannot believe there is a good God. Still, even then, if he would lay claim to being a lover of truth, he ought to give