we two- 第102部分

In　the　afternoon　to　the　astonishment　of　all；　Mr。　Fane…Smith　came　over　from　Greyshot；　horrified　to　hear　that　the　man　who　he　had　once　treated　with　scant　justice　and　actual　discourtesy　was　lying　on　his　death　bed；　a　victim　to　religious　fanaticism。　　Spite　of　his　very　hard　words　to　her；　Erica　had　always　respected　Mr。　Fane…Smith；　and　she　was　glad　that　he　had　come　at　the　last。　　Her　aunt　had　not　come；　she　had　hesitated　long；　but　in　the　end　the　recollection　that　Greyshot　would　be　greatly　scandalized；　and　that；　too；　on　the　very　eve　of　her　daughter's　wedding　turned　the　scale。　　She　sent　affectionate　messages　and　a　small　devotional　book；　but　stayed　at　home。

Mr。　Fane…Smith　apologized　frankly　and　fully　to　Raeburn　for　his　former　discourtesy　and　then　plunged　at　once　into　eager　questions　and　eager　arguments。　　He　could　not　endure　the　thought　that　the　man　in　whom　at　the　last　he　was　able　to　recognize　a　certain　nobility　of　character；　should　be　sinking　down　into　what　he　considered　everlasting　darkness。　　Bitterly　did　he　now　regret　the　indifference　of　former　years；　and　the　actual　uncharitableness　in　which　he　had　of　late　indulged。

Raeburn　lay　very　passively　listening　to　an　impassioned　setting　forth　of　the　gospel；　his　hands　wandering　about　restlessly；　picking　up　little　bits　of　the　coverlet　in　that　strange　way　so　often　noticed　in　dying　people。

〃You　are　mistaken；〃　he　said　when　at　length　Mr。　Fane…Smith　ceased。　　〃Had　you　argued　with　me　in　former　years；　you　would　never　have　convinced　me；　your　books　and　tracts　could　never　have　altered　my　firm　convictions。　　All　my　life　I　have　had　tracts　and　leaflets　showered　down　upon　me　with　letters　from　pious　folks　desiring　my　conversion。　　I　have　had　innumerable　letters　telling　me　that　the　writers　were　praying　for　me。　　Well；　I　think　they　would　have　done　better　to　pray　for　some　of　my　orthodox　opponents　who　are　leading　immoral　lives；　but；　insofar　as　prayers　show　a　certain　amount　of　human　interest；　I　am　very　willing　that　they　should　pray　for　me　though　they　would　have　shown　better　taste　if　they　had　not　informed　me　of　their　supplications。　　But　don't　mistake　me；　it　is　not　in　this　way　that　you　will　ever　prove　the　truth　of　your　religion。　　You　must　show　justice　to　your　opponents　first。　　You　must　put　a　different　spirit　into　your　pet　word；　'Charity。'　　I　don't　think　you　can　do　it。　　I　think　your　religion　false。　　I　consider　that　it　is　rooted　in　selfishness　and　superstition。　　Being　convinced　of　this　when　I　was　still　young；　I　had　to　find　some　other　system　to　take　its　place。　　That　system　I　found　in　secularism。　　For　thirty　years　I　have　lived　as　a　secularist　and　have　been　perfectly　content　notwithstanding　that　my　life　has　been　a　very　hard　one。　　As　a　secularist　I　now　die　content。〃

Mr。　Fane…Smith　shuddered。　　This　was　of　course　inexpressibly　painful　to　him。　　He　could　not　see　that　what　had　disgusted　Raeburn　with　religion　had　been　the　distortion　of　Christ's　teaching；　and　that　in　truth　the　secularist　creed　embodied　much　of　the　truest　and　loftiest　Christianity。

Once　more　he　reiterated　his　arguments；　striving　hard　to　show　by　words　the　beauty　of　his　religion。　　But　Christianity　can　only　be　vindicated　by　deeds；　can　only　be　truly　shown　forth　in　lives。　　The　country；　the　〃Christian　Country；〃　as　it　was　fond　of　styling　itself；　had　had　thirty　years　in　which　to　show　to　Raeburn　the　loving　kindness；　the　brotherhood；　the　lofty　generosity　which　each　professed　follower　of　Christ　ought　to　show　in　his　life。　　Now　the　time　was　over；　and　it　was　too　late。

The　dying　man　bent　forward；　and　a　hard　look　came　into　his　eyes；　and　a　sternness　overspread　his　calm　face。

〃What　has　Christianity　done　for　me？〃　he　asked。　　〃Look　at　my　life。　　See　how　I　have　been　treated。〃

And　Mr。　Fane…Smith　was　speechless。　　Conscience…stricken；　he　knew　that　to　this　there　was　no　reply　that　HE　could　honestly　make；　and　a　question　dawned　upon　his　mind　Was　his　own　〃Christianity〃　really　that　of　Christ？

As　evening　drew　on；　Raeburn's　life　was　slowly　ebbing　away。　　Very　slowly；　for　to　the　last　he　fought　for　breath。　　All　his　nearest　friends　were　gathered　round　him；　and　to　the　end　he　was　clearly　conscious　and；　as　in　life；　calmly　philosophical。

〃I　have　been　well　'friended'　all　my　life；〃　he　said　once；　looking　round　at　the　faces　by　his　bedside。

They　were　all　too　broken…hearted　to　respond；　and　there　were　long　silences；　broken　only　by　the　laboring　breath　and　restless　movements　of　the　dying　man。

Toward　midnight　there　was　a　low　roll　of　distant　thunder；　and　gradually　the　storm　drew　nearer　and　nearer。　　Raeburn　asked　to　be　raised　in　bed　that　he　might　watch　the　lightning　which　was　unusually　beautiful。　　It　was　a　strange；　weird　scene　the　plainly　furnished　hotel　room；　sparsely　lighted　by　candles；　the　sad　group　of　watchers；　the　pale；　beautiful　face　of　the　young　girl　bending　over　the　pillow；　and　the　strong；　rugged　Scotchman　with　his　white　hair　and　keen　brown　eyes；　upon　whose　face　death　had　already　set　his　pale　tokens。　　From　the　uncurtained　window　could　be　seen　the　dark　outline　of　the　adjacent　houses　and　the　lights　lower　down　the　hill　scattered　here　and　there　throughout　the　sleeping　city。　　Upon　all　this　the　vivid　lightning　played；　and　the　distant　thunder　followed　with　its　mighty　crash；　rolling　and　echoing　away　among　the　surrounding　hills。

〃I　am　glad　to　have　seen　one　more　storm；〃　said　Raeburn。

But　soon　he　grew　weary；　tired　just　with　the　slight　exertion　of　looking　and　listening。　　He　sighed。　　To　a　strong；　healthy　man　in　the　very　prime　of　life；　this　failing　of　the　powers　was　hard　to　bear。　　Death　was　very　near；　he　knew　it　well　enough　knew　it　by　this　slow；　sure；　painless　sinking。

He　held　Erica's　hand　more　closely；　and　after　that　lay　very　still；　once　or　twice　asking　for　more　coverings　over　his　feet。　　The　night　wore　on。　After　a　long　silence；　he　looked　up　once　more　and　said　to　Tom：

〃I　promised　Hazeldine　a　sovereign　toward　the　fund　for〃　he　broke　off　with　a　look　of　intense　weariness；　adding　after　an　interval　〃He'll　tell　you。　　See　that　it's　paid。〃

The　storm　had　passed；　and　the　golden…red　dawn　was　just　breaking　when　once　more　the　silence　was　broken。

〃Come　nearer；　Eric；〃　he　whispered　〃nearer！〃

Then　came　a　long　pause。

There　was　stillness　that　fearful　stillness　when　the　watchers　begin　to　hush　their　very　breath；　that　they　may　catch　the　last　faint　breathings。　　Poor　Tom　could　stand　it　no　longer；　he　just　buried　his　face　in　his　hands　and　sobbed。　　Perhaps　Erica　envied　him。　　Violent　grief　would　surely　have　been　more　endurable　than　this　terrible　sinking；　this　dread　of　not　keeping　up　to　the　end。　　Was　she　falling　with　him　down　those　horrible　steps？　　Was　she　sinking　with　him　beneath　the　cold；　green　waves？　　Oh；　death　cruel　death！　　Why　had　he　not　taken　them　together　on　that　summer　day？

Yet　what　was　she　saying？　　The　death　angel　was　but　God's　messenger；　and　her　father　could　never；　never　be　beyond　the　care　of　One　who　loved　him　infinitely　eternally。　If　He　the　Father　were　taking　him　from　her；　why；　she　would　trust　Him；　though　it　should　crush　her　whole　world。

〃Nearer；　Eric　nearer。〃　　How　those　last　words　rang　in　her　ears　as　she　waited　there　with　her　hands　in　his。　　She　knew　they　would　be　the　last　for　he　was　sinking　away　into　a　dreamily　passive　state　just　dying　because　too　tired　to　live。

〃Nearer；　nearer！〃　　Was　this　agony　indeed　to　heal　the　terrible　division　between　them？　　Ah；　mystery　of　evil；　mystery　of　pain；　mystery　of　death！　　Only　the　love　of　the　Infinitely　Loving　can　fathom　you　only　the　trust　in　that　Love　give　us　a　glimpse　of　your　meaning。

She　felt　a　tightening　of　the　fingers　that　clasped　hers。　　He　was　still　conscious；　he　smiled　just　such　a　smile　as　he　used　to　give　her　when；　as　a　little　thing；　she　had　fretted　about　his　leaving　home。

She　pressed　her　quivering　lips　to　his；　clung　to　him；　and　kissed　him　again　and　again。　　There　was　a　sigh。　　A　long　interval；　and　another　sigh。　　After　that；　silence。


CHAPTER　XLI。　Results　Closely　Following

But　that　one　man　should　die　ignorant　who　had　capacity　for　knowledge；　this　I　call　a　tragedy。　　Carlyle

Not　what　I　think；　but　what　Thou　art；　makes　sure。　　George　MacDonald

A　wave　of　strangely　varied　feeling　swept　through　the　country　in　the　next　four…and…twenty　hours。

From　the　Raeburnites　came　a　burst　of　mingled　wrath　and　grief；　and　a　bitter　outcry　against　the　religion　which　inevitably　they　thought　tended　to　produce　such　fanatics　as　Drosser。　　From　the　poor　and　oppressed　came　a　murmur　of　blank　despair；　they　had　looked　upon　Raeburn　as　the　deliverer　from　so　much　that　now　weighed　upon　them；　and　were　so　perfectly　conscious　that　he　understood　their　wants　and　difficulties　in　a　way　which　others　failed　to　do；　that　his　death　in　the　very　prime　of　manhood　simply　stunned　them。　　The　liberal…minded　felt　a　thrill　of　horror　and　indignation　at　the　thought　that　such　deeds　as　this　could　take　place　in　the　nineteenth　century；　realizing；　however；　with　a　shudder　that　the　rash　act　of　the　ignorant　fanatic　was；　in　truth；　no　worse　than　the　murder　of　hatred；　the　perpetual　calumny　and　injustice　which　thousands　of　professing　Christians　had　meted　out　to　Raeburn。　　In　nothing　had　the　un…Christlikeness　of　the　age　been　more　conspicuous　than　in　the　way　in　which　Raeburn　had　all　his　life　been　treated。

The　fashionable　world　felt　a　sort　of　uncomfortableness。　　The　news　reached　them　at　their　laziest　time　of　y