A Soldier's Son Part 8

"It seems to follow naturally your line of reasoning, Carol, though I cannot say the thought ever occurred to me before. There is one marked trait in all little children, they are so full of love."

"Yes, Auntie, especially darling Rosebud. She loves everyone. Do you remember when I was ill, and you lifted her on the bed, how she said: 'I do 'ove 'ou so welly much, Tarol'?"

"Yes, dear, I remember. Rosebud often makes me think of a line of one of the poets: 'For a smile of G.o.d, thou art.'"

"That is just beautiful, Auntie, and it explains why little children know what love is, before they know anything else, before they even walk or talk."

"Yes, Carol, all great poets seem able to grasp some momentous truth, and give it to the world in a beautiful line or verse."

"Cousin Alicia has given Eloise a copy of Science and Health just like the one she gave me, Auntie. Eloise showed it to me, and offered to lend it to me. But it would not be right for me to read it until Uncle Raymond gives me permission, would it? Do you think he may when he knows of Eloise's healing?"

"He does know, dear. I was talking to him last night about it. He attributes it to the change into Devons.h.i.+re, or--or some other reason. I think he suggested hypnotism."

"But they took her to Germany some time ago, and that change made no difference, nor the great German doctor she was under."

"That is so, dear, still Uncle Raymond will not listen. I think it will be unwise to talk any more on the subject to him."

"Do you think then, Auntie, he will not be willing for me to have the book again until--until I am a man?"

"I fear that may be so, dear."

"Oh, Auntie!"

For a moment the grave eyes filled with tears. The next instant they were dashed away. "What am I thinking of? Error, error, begone! Love can find a way, and Love will find a way. It is quite all right, Auntie," clasping both arms around her neck.

"Just wait and see! If we are not standing 'porter at the door of thought' every moment, what a lot of wrong thoughts come trooping in."

CHAPTER XXIII.

--A LONG-DELAYED LETTER.

That was an eventful week to Carol. Three or four days after the return of Mrs. Burton and Eloise it was his turn to open the post-bag. The daily task of receiving the post-bag, unlocking it, sorting, and then distributing the contents, was always such a pleasure to the elder children that they had agreed to take it by turns.

There seemed an unusually full bag that morning when he emptied the contents on the hall table. He collected into a little pile all the letters for the servants' hall, for the school-room, and for Mrs. Mandeville. Colonel Mandeville was away with his regiment. Quite at the last he discovered two envelopes bearing the small, neat handwriting which always called forth an exclamation of pleasure.

"Two letters this morning from Cousin Alicia, one for Auntie and one for me!"

But he faithfully finished his task, and delivered the letters to their respective owners before opening his own letter.

Mrs. Mandeville frequently breakfasted with the children when Colonel Mandeville was away and there were no visitors staying in the house. Carol found her in the schoolroom.

Breakfast had commenced. "You have had a big delivery this morning, Mr. Postman, have you not?" she said.

"Yes, Auntie, nearly everyone has had more than one letter, and here are four for you, three for Miss Markham, one for Percy, one for Edith, and one for me from Cousin Alicia. One of your letters, too, Auntie, is from Cousin Alicia, and it is quite a fat one. Mine is quite thin. May I open it, Auntie?"

"Certainly, dear, I am sure Miss Markham will allow you. We all know how little people are impatient to read their letters."

Mrs. Mandeville laid three of her letters beside her plate. The one bearing the Devons.h.i.+re post-mark she held in her hand, and presently drew the contents from the envelope.

Her face grew very white, her hand trembled as she saw Miss Desmond's letter enclosed another. Her eyes, suffused with tears, fell on dear, familiar writing.

Was it a message from the grave--from that watery grave where the mortal remains of the brother still so dear to her had been cast?

Carol meanwhile was devouring his letter, oblivious of everything else. He read: "WILLMAR COURT, S. DEVON.

"My dear Carol, "Something so wonderful and beautiful has happened. Yet I should not perhaps use the word 'wonderful,' since nothing can be lost when Mind governs and controls. The letter which your dear father wrote me just before his death has at last reached me.

"Evidently through a mistake at the sorting office it was slipped into the American mail-bag at Gibraltar instead of the English. My name and address are almost stamped out, it has been to so many places in the United States of America and was afterwards sent on to Canada, where it has also visited many post-offices, before some postmaster or post-mistress remembered that S. Devon is part of an English county.

"A letter so important for your future, dear, could not be lost. I am sending it for Mrs. Mandeville to read, as it is necessary for her and also your Uncle Raymond to know the contents. They will, I am sure, observe their brother's last wishes; and one is, that no hindrance or impediment shall be put in the way of your studying the Science which has healed you. I am to buy a new copy of Science and Health, and write in it: 'To Carol--from Father.' You see, dear, Love has found a way, and just the most beautiful way of restoring to you the book you seemed to have lost, for a time at least.

"Dearly as you have valued the book before, it will have an added value with the knowledge that it comes to you expressly by your dear father's desire. Mrs. Mandeville will, no doubt, let you read (or read to you) the letter before returning it to me. You will rejoice to learn how much you were in your father's thoughts at the last. I have ordered a copy of the book. You will receive it in a very short time. I know how glad you will be to be able to study the Lesson-Sermons again. How nice it will be for you and Eloise to do them sometimes together! Dear little girl! Give her many loving thoughts from me. We miss her very much. Bob's affections seem about equally divided between his young master and 'the little lady' as he calls her.

"Always in thought and deed, dear Carol, Your loving cousin, ALICIA DESMOND."

Very quietly Carol went to the back of his aunt's chair, and slipping an arm around her neck whispered softly in her ear: "It's all right, Auntie. I knew that Love would find a way, but I didn't think it would be quite so soon, and such a beautiful way. It is all in Father's letter."

Mrs. Mandeville had laid her letters down unread. She could not disappoint the children, who loved her to breakfast with them, by taking them to her own room, and she wanted to be alone when she read them. As soon as breakfast was over, she left the school-room. An hour later Carol received a message that she wanted him to go to her.

"You have been crying, Auntie," he said, as he entered the room.

"Yes, dear, this letter from your father, and my dear brother, has been a joy and a sorrow to me, bringing back so vividly the remembrance of him. You will like to read it."

She gave the letter to Carol, and he at once sat down beside her, and read it.

"My dear Alicia, "The fiat has gone forth! They give me neither weeks nor days: a few hours only. The sea has been very rough the past three days. A partly healed wound has reopened: the hemorrhage is internal. They cannot stop it. I think of you and my boy, and that Science which stanched his running wounds, and I wish I knew something of it. I put it off, like one of old, to a more convenient season. The little book you gave me I left with some poor fellows in the hospital, intending to get another copy when I reached England.

"Much of what you told me comes back, but it is not enough. I cannot realize it sufficiently. I have absolute faith that if I could reach England, or even cable to you, the verdict would be reversed. Ah, well! a greater man than I is supposed to have said: 'A day less or more, at sea or ash.o.r.e, We die, does it matter when?'

Somehow, it does seem to matter now. Life--even this life--has possibilities which I have failed to grasp. With you to help me, it seems I should have gained a clearer understanding of eternal verities. A haze--a mist is creeping over my senses. What I have to write I must write quickly.

"I think you know by a deed of settlement, executed before I left for South Africa, in the event of my death, my brother Raymond, and my dear sister Emmeline, become Carol's guardians. There is no time now to alter that arrangement in any way, even if I wished. It will be good for the boy to be with his cousins. He has seen too little of other children, and Emmeline, I know, will be a mother to him. Both she and Raymond will respect my last wishes, I am sure. Therefore, I want them to know it is my desire for Carol to spend three months of every year with you at his own home, that you may instruct him in that knowledge of G.o.d which has healed him. It is recorded that once ten were cleansed, and nine went thankless away. He must not belong to the nine.

"I have explained to Colonel Mandeville my earnest desire that you may be able to live at the Court, keeping on all the old servants until Carol is of age. The last time I saw my brother Raymond, the subject of Christian Science was mentioned, and from the remarks he made, his bitterly antagonistic views of it, I greatly fear that under his guardians.h.i.+p Carol may not be allowed to continue the study. Will you purchase for me a copy of the text-book, Science and Health, and write in it: No one will take from the boy his dying father's last gift, and my wishes regarding it will I know, be paramount with him. He will like to know that my one regret now is that I did not myself study it when I had the opportunity.

"I have faced death before. I am facing it again, as a soldier, and, I trust, as a Christian. Somewhere it is written 'Greater love hath no man'-- You know the rest. Perhaps it will count, though it may not have been love so much as duty prompted the action which is costing me my life.

"I would write to Carol, and to Emmeline. I cannot. The pen slips from my hand."

---- The concluding sentence and the signature were almost illegible. Mrs. Mandeville took Carol in her arms, and they wept together.

"It is so cruel to think he might have been spared to us," she sobbed.

"Yes, Auntie; he would have been," Carol replied with simple faith.

CHAPTER XXIV.

--A JOYFUL SURPRISE.

In less than a week a small parcel arrived by post addressed to Carol. He knew before he opened it that it contained the little book which he had so longed for, and which would be, if possible, even dearer to him, henceforth, from the circ.u.mstances under which he regained it. He took the little parcel to Mrs. Mandeville's room after breakfast, and opened it there. As he drew the small volume from its cardboard case, he held it up to show her. Then, opening it, he exclaimed in a tone of great surprise, mingled with joy: "Auntie, it is in dear Father's own handwriting!

'To Carol: from Father.'"

"How can it be?"

Then, as they examined the writing, they saw that Miss Desmond had cut the words from her letter. So neatly had the foreign paper been gummed in, it was not at first noticeable.

"Was it not lovely of Cousin Alicia to think of it, Auntie?"

"It was, indeed, dear. You will always realize now that it is your father's gift."

"Yes, Auntie; my earthly father's and my heavenly Father's, too. I was thinking this morning of that lovely verse in Isaiah: 'Before they call I will answer: and while they are yet speaking I will hear.' And I knew that Love had answered before I called. Before I knew my need, it was met. I am glad the letter was delayed so long, because I have learned so much. 'Every trial of our faith in G.o.d makes us stronger,' Mrs. Eddy says. It did seem at first as if I should have to wait years for the book, didn't it? I am glad I was so sure that Love could and would find a way."

As the boy spoke, the Rector walked into the room. In a momentary impulse Carol seized the little book which lay on the table, and held it tightly. A crimson flush suffused his face. The next instant he looked up at his uncle with fearless eyes, and held out the book to him, saying, "Uncle Raymond, Cousin Alicia has sent me the little book Father asked her to get for me, and see--isn't it beautiful?--'To Carol: from Father,' is in Father's own handwriting."

The Rector took the book, examined the inscription, but made no remark.

"Father did not want me to belong to the nine. You would not like me to either, would you, Uncle Raymond?"

"To the nine, boy?--What do you mean?"

"You remember, Uncle Raymond, when Jesus once healed ten lepers, nine went thankless away. I have been healed, and I must acknowledge it at all times, else I should be as one of them."

A frown gathered on the Rector's face.

"Never speak to me, Carol, of your healing in the same breath with the healings of Jesus."

The boy looked sorely pained. For an instant he was silent. In that instant he asked: "Father-Mother G.o.d, lead me."

Then he said: "May I ask you a question, Uncle Raymond?"

"Certainly, Carol; if it is something you want to know."

"It is something I often think about, Uncle. Are there any 'shepherds in Israel' now? Can you tell me?"

"Why, of course, Carol; Israel typifies the Christian world, and G.o.d's ministers are His shepherds."

"Yes, Uncle, that was what I thought. Is G.o.d not angry now with the shepherds? I often read the 34th chapter of Ezekiel. G.o.d was very angry with the shepherds of that time. He said, 'Woe be to the shepherds, because they had not healed that which was sick, nor strengthened that which was diseased, nor bound up that which was broken, neither had they sought out that which was lost.'"

"There have been times in history, Carol, when G.o.d's ministers--His shepherds--have been able to heal the sick, but for generations the healing power has been withheld.

"Yes, Uncle, I understand that. For many centuries before Jesus came the healing power had been lost. He brought it back, and taught his disciples how to heal the sick. Then at the end of only three centuries it was lost; and again after many centuries G.o.d has sent a messenger to bring it back, but not everyone will listen to the message."

The boy spoke reflectively, as one thinking aloud, not addressing either his uncle or his aunt.

"Raymond," said Mrs. Mandeville quickly (she noted the growing anger on the Rector's face), "Carol has a way of thinking about things he reads in the Bible. His thoughts have often helped me. He does not mean to--to reproach you. Will you tell me, dear Raymond, have you ever read this book which you condemn so strongly?"

"I have not read it, Emmeline. One does not need to read Mrs. Eddy's books to condemn them. The press criticisms and extracts I have read were quite enough for me. Since Carol's father wished him to have a copy of the book, I cannot keep it from him. Otherwise I should, most certainly. I can only pray that he may ultimately see the error of its teaching."

"The fruit is so good," Mrs. Mandeville said softly. "I can only judge by that, until I have studied the book myself, which I intend to do. I think, Carol, darling, you must run back to the school-room now, or you will be late for lessons. Leave your little book with me. You know it will be quite safe, and come to me after school."

After the boy had left the room Mrs. Mandeville turned to the Rector.

"Now I want to ask you a question, if I may, Raymond, may I?"

"Why, of course, Emmeline, you know perfectly well I shall be happy to answer any question you wish to put to me--if I can."

"It is this, Raymond: the Apostle bids us, 'Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.' How would you define the 'Mind' simply, that I may grasp it?"

The Rector's memory went back to a Sunday morning some months before when he had preached what he considered a very eloquent sermon from that verse in Philippians. Had his sister forgotten it?

"Do you forget, Emmeline, that I preached from that text not so very long ago? I took as the keynote of my sermon, humility--the humility of Jesus. From the context that was undoubtedly what Saint Paul meant."

"Yes, Raymond, I remember the sermon perfectly; but I cannot feel that to possess humility, even in a superlative degree, would be to possess, as the Apostle commands, the 'Mind' of Christ. Carol was thinking out this subject, in the way he has of thinking about verses in the Bible, and the thought he gave me seems nearer to it. He could see only love. The mind that was in Christ was love. Now, Raymond, if we, at this moment, possessed hearts full of love we could not criticise or condemn anyone or any sect. We could not hold up creeds or dogmas, and say, 'It is necessary to believe this or that because it is a canon of the Church.' We should just know that we and they had pa.s.sed from death unto life when we love the brethren, and all are brethren who look to the Lord Jesus Christ as an elder brother."

"It seems to me, Emmeline, that even before reading the book you have imbibed some of its mischievous statements. Remember, it teaches a religion of negation. According to Christian Science we have no Heavenly Father, no personal G.o.d; nothing but a divine Principle, an eternal existence, to wors.h.i.+p."

"Oh, Raymond, you do make a mistake. How can you infer that if you have not studied the book?"

"My authority, Emmeline, for the statement, is Dr. Hanson. He wrote a pamphlet on Christian Science, issued by the Religious Tract Society."

"It seems strange, Raymond, that a man of Dr. Hanson's eminence should write, and the Religious Tract Society should publish, a statement so misleading,--a statement which a boy of Carol's years could easily confute. Carol prays to, and speaks of his Heavenly Father in a way which, I grieve to say, my own children never do. Only a few minutes before you entered the room, he said that this little book was a gift not only from his earthly father but from his Heavenly Father, too. So how can there be no Heavenly Father to a Christian Scientist? It is true he speaks more frequently of Him as Divine Love; and it seems to me he has a more comprehensive idea of G.o.d than I have myself, for the thought has often presented itself to me, how can we, as the Scriptures say, 'live, move and have our being' in Him, if G.o.d is a person, according to our idea of personality? The idea which Carol has given me of G.o.d as infinite Love, filling the universe like light, makes that verse more intelligible."

"A discussion such as this, Emmeline, cannot be productive of any good. I will send you that little pamphlet I mentioned."

"Thank you, Raymond. I will read it after I have read Science and Health."

The Rector then changed the conversation, and spoke of the object of his visit to the Manor that morning.

CHAPTER XXV.