Donal Grant by George MacDonald (sight word readers txt) 📖

be a wolf."

"Ah! does he wear his sheepskin so well? Are you sure he is not plotting to devour sheep and shepherd together?" said Miss Carmichael, with an open glance of search.

"Don't you think," suggested Arctura, "when you are not able to say anything, it would be better not to be present? Your silence looks like agreement."

"But you can always protest! You can assert he is all wrong. You can say you do not in the least agree with him!"

"But what if you are not sure that you do not agree with him?"

"I thought as much!" said Miss Carmichael to herself. "I might have foreseen this!"-Here she spoke.-"If you are not sure you do agree, you can say, 'I can't say I agree with you!' It is always safer to admit little than much."

"I do not quite follow you. But speaking of little and much, I am sure I want a great deal more than I know yet to save me. I have never yet heard what seems enough."

"Is that to say God has not done his part?"

"No; it is only to say that I hope he has done more than I have yet heard."

"More than send his son to die for your sins?"

"More than you say that means."

"You have but to believe Christ did so."

"I don't know that he died for my sins."

"He died for the sins of the whole world."

"Then I must be saved!"

"Yes, if you believe that he made atonement for your sins."

"Then I cannot be saved except I believe that I shall be saved. And I cannot believe I shall be saved until I know I shall be saved!"

"You are cavilling, Arctura! Ah, this is what you have been learning of Mr. Grant! I ought not to have gone away!"

"Nothing of the sort!" said Arctura, drawing herself up a little. "I am sorry if I have said anything wrong; but really I can get hold of nothing! I feel sometimes as if I should go out of my mind."

"Arctura, I have done my best for you! If you think you have found a better teacher, no warning, I fear, will any longer avail!"

"If I did think I had found a better teacher, no warning certainly would; I am only afraid I have not. But of one thing I am sure-that the things Mr. Grant teaches are much more to be desired than-"

"By the unsanctified heart, no doubt!" said Sophia.

"The unsanctified heart," rejoined Arctura, astonished at her own boldness, and the sense of power and freedom growing in her as she spoke, "surely needs God as much as the sanctified! But can the heart be altogether unsanctified that desires to find God so beautiful and good that it can worship him with its whole power of love and adoration? Or is God less beautiful and good than that?"

"We ought to worship God whatever he is."

"But could we love him with all our hearts if he were not altogether lovable?"

"He might not be the less to be worshipped though he seemed so to us. We must worship his justice as much as his love, his power as much as his justice."

Arctura returned no answer; the words had fallen on her heart like an ice-berg. She was not, however, so utterly overwhelmed by them as she would have been some time before; she thought with herself, "I will ask Mr. Grant! I am sure he does not think like that! Worship power as much as love! I begin to think she does not understand what she is talking about! If I were to make a creature needing all my love to make life endurable to him, and then not be kind enough to him, should I not be cruel? Would I not be to blame? Can God be God and do anything conceivably to blame-anything that is not altogether beautiful? She tells me we cannot judge what it would be right for God to do by what it would be right for us to do: if what seems right to me is not right to God, I must wrong my conscience and be a sinner in order to serve him! Then my conscience is not the voice of God in me! How then am I made in his image? What does it mean? Ah, but that image has been defaced by the fall! So I cannot tell a bit what God is like? Then how am I to love him? I never can love him! I am very miserable! I am not God's child!

Thus, long after Miss Carmichael had taken a coldly sorrowful farewell of her, Arctura went round and round the old mill-horse rack of her self-questioning: God was not to be trusted in until she had done something she could not do, upon which he would take her into his favour, and then she could trust him! What a God to give all her heart to, to long for, to dream of being at home with! Then she compared Miss Carmichael and Donal Grant, and thought whether Donal might not be as likely to be right as she. Oh, where was assurance, where was certainty about anything! How was she ever to know? What if the thing she came to know for certain should be-a God she could not love!

The next day was Sunday. Davie and his tutor overtook her going home from church. It came as of itself to her lips, and she said,

"Mr. Grant, how are we to know what God is like?"

"'Philip saith unto him, Lord, show us the Father and it sufficeth us. Jesus saith unto him, Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip? He that hath seen me hath seen the father, and how sayest thou then, Show us the father?'"

Thus answered Donal, without a word of his own, and though the three walked side by side, it was ten minutes before another was spoken. Then at last said Arctura,

"If I could but see Christ!"

"It is not necessary to see him to know what he is like. You can read what those who knew him said he was like; that is the first step to understanding him, which is the true seeing; the second is, doing what he tells you: when you understand him-there is your God!"

>From that day Arctura's search took a new departure. It is strange how often one may hear a thing, yet never have really heard it! The heart can hear only what it is capable of hearing; therefore "the times of this ignorance God winked at;" but alas for him who will not hear what he is capable of hearing!

His failure to get word or even sight of Eppy, together with some uneasiness at the condition in which her grandfather continued, induced lord Forgue to accept the invitation-which his father had taken pains to have sent him-to spend three weeks or a month with a relative in the north of England. He would gladly have sent a message to Eppy before he went, but had no one he could trust with it: Davie was too much under the influence of his tutor! So he departed without sign, and Eppy soon imagined he had deserted her. For a time her tears flowed yet more freely, but by and by she began to feel something of relief in having the matter settled, for she could not see how they were ever to be married. She would have been content to love him always, she said to herself, were there no prospect of marriage, or even were there no marriage in question; but would he continue to care for her love? She did not think she could expect that. So with many tears she gave him up-or thought she did. He had loved her, and that was a grand thing!

There was much that was good, and something that was wise in the girl, notwithstanding her folly in allowing such a lover. The temptation was great: even if his attentions were in their nature but transient, they were sweet while they passed. I doubt if her love was of the deepest she had to give; but who can tell? A woman will love where a man can see nothing lovely. So long as she is able still to love, she is never quite to be pitied; but when the reaction comes-?

So the dull days went by.

But for lady Arctura a great hope had begun to dawn-the hope, namely, that the world was in the hand, yea in the heart of One whom she herself might one day see, in her inmost soul, and with clearest eyes, to be Love itself-not a love she could not care for, but the very heart, generating centre, embracing circumference, and crown of all loves.

Donal prayed to God for lady Arctura, and waited. Her hour was not yet come, but was coming! Everyone that is ready the Father brings to Jesus: the disciple is not greater than his master, and must not think to hasten the hour, or lead one who is not yet taught of God; he must not be miserable about another as if God had forgotten him. Strange helpers of God we shall be, if, thinking to do his work, we act as if he were neglecting it! To wait for God, believing it his one design to redeem his creatures, ready to put the hand to, the moment his hour strikes, is the faith fit for a fellow-worker with him!


CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE CASTLE-ROOF.

One stormy Friday night in the month of March, when a bitter east wind was blowing, Donal, seated at the plain deal-table he had got Mrs. Brookes to find him that he might use it regardless of ink, was drawing upon it a diagram, in quest of a simplification for Davie, when a sudden sense of cold made him cast a glance at his fire. He had been aware that it was sinking, but, as there was no fuel in the room, had forgotten it again: it was very low, and he must at once fetch both wood and coal! In certain directions and degrees of wind this was rather a ticklish task; but he had taken the precaution of putting up here and there a bit of rope. Closing the door behind him to keep in what warmth he might, and ascending the stairs a few feet higher, he stepped out on the bartizan, and so round the tower to the roof. There he stood for a moment to look about him.

It was a moonlit night, so far as the clouds, blown in huge and almost continuous masses over the heavens, would permit the light of the moon to emerge. The roaring of the sea came like a low rolling mist across the flats. The air gloomed and darkened and lightened again around him, as the folds of the cloud-blanket overhead were torn, or dropped trailing, or gathered again in the arms of the hurrying wind. As he stood, it seemed suddenly to change, and take a touch of south in its blowing. The same instant came to his ear a loud wail: it was the ghost-music! There was in it the cry of a discord, mingling with a wild rolling change of harmonies. He stood "like one forbid," and listened with all his power. It came again, and again, and was more continuous than he had ever heard it before. Here was now