Playing With Fire

"How commonplace and similar they look! They might be text-books, or novels, or even poetry. But God has set his mark upon the Bible. We cannot mistake it. Printed in any size or shape, bound in any color or any material, we know the moment our eyes fall upon it that it is the Word of God."

However, it is easy for the mind to find a ready road from spiritual to personal things, and it was not long before Lord Cramer had possession of the Minister's meditations. There appears to be no relevancy between the Bible and Lord Cramer, but Thought has swift and secret passages, and perhaps the way had been through the discredited books; for he was thinking of the young nobleman with much the same feelings as he had given the doubtful and objectionable volumes. He had felt them to be unworthy to lie on the same table with the Bible. He was equally certain that Lord Richard Cramer was unworthy to lift his eyes to Marion Macrae, and quite as positive that he intended to do so.

"Marion must marry Allan Reid," he decided. "It is for her happiness every way. What profit is there in a title, if its holder is too poor to honor it? Young Reid is rich, and will be rich enough to buy a title if he wants one. Moreover, Lord Richard is not like his father in a religious sense. Lord Angus Cramer – my friend – was present at divine service as long as he was able to be so. Lord Richard does not observe the Sabbath. His stepmother is troubled at his attitude toward the Church. Such a man is not fit to be my son-in-law – a man who does not keep the Sabbath! The idea is an impossible one! Allan Reid fills his place every Sabbath in the Church of the Disciples. To be honorable, and rich, and to keep the Sabbath! These are the three cardinal points of a respectable and religious life, and Marion must be made to accept them." Yet he felt quite sure that, at that very moment, Lord Richard Cramer was thinking of his daughter, and almost equally sure that Marion was thinking of Richard Cramer.

In a measure Macrae was correct. Lord Cramer was thinking of Marion, but he was telling himself it was only in a philosophical way. Sitting smoking on the lawn in the late twilight, he was curiously asking his heart the question so many ask, "Why is it that, out of the thousands of persons we meet, only one can rouse in us the tremendous passion of a first true love?" Yet, in whatever manner Richard Cramer tried to reason with himself, he was quite aware that something had happened that afternoon that could never be satisfied by any reasoning.

He would not believe it was love. Yet he had an extraordinary elation, his heart beat rapidly, and he was in a fever of longing and wonderment about the girl he had just met. He thought he knew all about women, but Marion was quite different, and she had called into life something deeper down than he had ever felt before. He was dreamy and yet restless, he was strangely happy, and yet strangely unhappy. Ah, though he would not admit it, the poignant thirst and exquisite hunger of a great love were beginning to trouble him.

He knew, however, that he could not run blindly into such a life-long affair as wooing the Minister's daughter. It might prove to be the dislocation of all his plans and prospects. Debt weighed heavily on him, especially his debt to his stepmother. So long as he owed her a shilling he was not his own master. He had been a gallant cavalry officer, but not averse to relinquish the limitations of that position for the title and estate that had fallen to him. Yet he could not keep up the state necessary unless he married a rich woman. He had promised his father to do this, and had almost resolved to try his fortune with Miss Victoria Marvel, the heiress of an immensely wealthy banker, and a young and lovely woman. This night, however, Miss Marvel was far beyond his horizon; he could think of no woman in all his world but Marion Macrae.

A week after Lady Cramer's call at the Little House, she came again and took Marion back with her to Cramer Hall for a visit. It was a pleasure to see the beautiful girl depart with her, for so much joyful expectation filled her heart that it transfigured her whole person, and she smiled so brightly, and stepped so lightly, that she seemed at that hour just a little above mortality. And the brilliant sunshine, and the calling of the cuckoo birds, the scent of flowers, and the breath and murmur of the sea, appeared to be just the natural atmosphere of her happy soul that wonderful June morning.

Lady Cramer chatted pleasantly as they drove over the brae and by the seashore, until they reached the large, plain, Georgian mansion called Cramer Hall. It was only remarkable for its size, and for the great extent and beauty of its gardens and park. As they neared the dwelling, Marion saw Lord Cramer descending the flight of steps which led to its principal entrance. She saw him coming to her! She felt him clasp her hand! She heard him speaking! But all these things took place to her in a delightful sense of semiconsciousness. She knew not what she said. Words were so dumb and inconsequent. Truly we have all confessed at times, "I had no words to express my feelings." Shall we ever in this life find words for our divinest moments? Or must we wait for their expression until Love and Death,

"Open the portals of that other land,
Where the great voices sound, and visions dwell."

Marion was only too glad to reach the room prepared for her, and to sit still and draw herself together; for happiness really dissipates the inner personality, and squanders the richest and rarest of our feelings. It was an antique room, full of the most beautiful, world-forgotten old furniture, one piece of richly carved oak being a cheval glass that showed her Marion Macrae from head to feet. And, in some way, these material household things calmed and steadied her.

Now let those who have truly loved tell themselves how time went by in this Eden home for Richard and Marion. True, nothing strange or startling marked its passage, only a delightful monotony of events usual and looked forward to. They rode, and read, and sang, they wandered about the house and garden, talking such divinity as only lovers understand. If there was company they kept much apart, and spoke little to each other, but every one present knew they were really one. For Love and Beauty create an atmosphere of ethereal union to which even those ossified by a material life are not quite insensible.

Lady Cramer indeed affected ignorance, but she was well aware of what was going on. She had anticipated it and, because she knew her stepson's disposition so well, had planned this very intimacy, feeling certain it would easily dissipate the light, roving fancy of the young man. She had so often seen him fall desperately in love, and so often seen him fall coldly and wearily out of it, and that with women whom she considered vastly superior to Marion in every respect. When she asked Marion to Cramer Hall, she believed that one week's unchecked intercourse would find Richard called to Edinburgh or London on very important business. When he received no such call she invited Marion to extend her visit for another week. In her opinion, it would be an incredible thing for Richard Cramer to live his life from morning to night for two weeks with the same girl and not utterly exhaust his fancy for her. At the end of two weeks, finding him still enraptured with "the same girl," she invited Marion for the third week, telling herself, as she did so: "If he stands three weeks of this absurd entanglement, there will have to be some strong measures taken. In the first place I shall speak to the Minister."

Now the Minister was much displeased at this second extension of his daughter's visit, and he wrote to her concerning it, saying, "A third week's visit is most unusual. I am troubled and angry at your acceptance of it. You are imposing on Lady Cramer's kindness, and I do not think it was at her wish this third invitation was given. I hope it was not your doing. Come home, without fail, immediately on its termination."

Acting on Mrs. Caird's advice, he had kept away from the Hall during Marion's visit. "There are a lot of young people coming and going between Cramer Hall and the neighboring gentry," she said, "and they do not want the Minister's company unless it be to marry them. I know the Blair girls, with their brother, Sir Thomas, were there two or three days; and I heard the young people were walking quadrilles on the lawn, and playing billiards in the house. Moreover, Starkie was in the kitchen the other day, and he told Aileen that Lady Geraldine Gower – who is a perfect horsewoman – was putting Marion and her pony through their paces; and I am feared for such ways – he said also, that the Macauleys were with them, and Captain Jermayne from the Edinburgh garrison."

"Marion ought not to be in such company."

"Marion is good enough for any company."

"That is allowed. I was thinking of her being led into temptation."

"Think of yourself, Ian, you are in far greater temptation than Marion will ever have to face. Did you notice a book lying open on the small table in your study?"

"No."

"I want you to notice it. I left it lying face downward purposely. If you lift it carefully, you will see that I have marked a few lines. Read them."

"Lines! Poetry, I suppose! Jessy, I have not time to read outside my present work."

"They are directly inside of your work."

"I wish you would drive over to Cramer, and say a few words of counsel to Marion."

"I will not, Ian. Marion must learn how to counsel herself. She is now in a fine school to learn that lesson, and she will come home dux of her class when it is closed."

He was turning toward his study as Mrs. Caird spoke, and he was closing the door as her last words reached him, "Read what I have marked, Ian."

He said to himself that he would not read it. Jessy required to be put a little more in her proper place. She had advised him too much lately, and he felt that she ought to wait until asked for her opinion on subjects belonging particularly to his profession. Her attitude was subversive of all recognized authority.

So he looked at the book lying on the table, but did not lift it. He was the more determined not to read the marked "lines" because Jessy had left the book face downward. She knew that this habit of hers seriously annoyed him, and that she had calculated on this annoyance making him lift the book and so in straightening the pages see the marked passage. He told himself that this was taking an unfair advantage of one of his most innocent peculiarities. He was resolved not to sanction it.

But the book lying on its face vexed and even troubled him. It might be a good book, the mental abode of some wise man, who had pressed his finest hopes and thoughts on its white leaves. He could neither read nor write with that fallen volume before him. For he was so used to listen with his eyes to the absent or dead who spoke to him in a low counterpoint that he could not avoid a feeling that he was treating a visitor, whether friend or foe, with great unkindness.

He rose and he sat down, then rose again, and, with a resolved attitude, lifted his prostrate friend or enemy. One leaf was crumpled and, when he had smoothed it carefully out, he saw a passage enclosed in strong pencil lines. So he walked to his desk and, taking a piece of rubber, erased with pains and caution the indexing marks, nor did he read one word of the message the book brought him until he had set it free to advise, or reprove, or comfort him, according to its tenor. Then the words that met his eyes, and never again left his memory, were the following:

"Let lore of all Theology
Be to thy soul what it can be;
But know – the Power that fashions man
Measured not out thy little span
For thee to take the meeting rod
In turn, and so approve to God
Thy science of Theometry."

Many times over he read this message, and then he sat with the book in his hand, lost in thought.

But of the tenor of these thoughts he said nothing; yet Mrs. Caird was satisfied. If he had not read the lines, she knew he would have told her so, and, having read them, they could be left without discussion. He was in a less moody spirit all the rest of the week, and spoke to her several times of the hopeless discouragement involved in Comte's scheme of "supreme religion," a mere possibility of posthumous though unconscious "incorporation with the Grand Être himself," said he.

"Well, we are not on holy ground with Comte, Ian, and we need not take off our shoes," answered Mrs. Caird. "This Grand Être, this Great Being, is made up of little beings – yourself and I for instance."

"And yet, Jessy, Comte does not think all men worthy even of this honor. Vast numbers will remain in a parasitic state on this Grand Being – really burdens on him, Comte says."

"O Ian! What a poor unhappy God! Put your thoughts on the first ten words in Genesis. Consider their infinite sublimity and simplicity. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. This God is our God, and He has been, and will be our dwelling place in, and for, all generations, Our Father! The weakest souls are not parasites or burdens to Him. Like a father He pities them."

"You are relying on the Bible, Jessy. It does not enter into Comte's scheme, and indeed what is called scientific religion discredits the Book generally."

"The Bible was not printed yesterday, Ian. Its assailants come and go, come and go, but it stands unmoved forever. With what new weapons can it be attacked? You told me yesterday that Strauss thought he had abolished Paul, and that Ewald answered there was nothing new in Strauss. As far as I can see, the giants of unbelief slay each other, while the Bible goes on to blend itself with the thought and speech of every land under the sun."

Such conversations became frequent between the Minister and his sister. He appeared to provoke and enjoy them. And he looked with a kind curiosity at this woman who had sat nearly twenty years on his hearth, nursing his children, ordering his household, sewing, knitting, telling fairy tales, and yet pondering in her heart the highest questions of time and eternity. The facts violated all his conceptions of women, and one day, after a very vivid illustration of this kind, he said softly to himself, yet with intense conviction:

"Women are inscrutable creatures! I doubt if I know anything about them." And perhaps these very words were "the call" for the wider and sadder knowledge that awaited him.

On Saturday he prepared to go to Glasgow to fulfil his usual duty in the Church of the Disciples; but his study of unbelief had got a stronger hold on his mind than he recognized. For the first time in all his ministry he felt a slight reluctance for spiritual work. But Mrs. Caird did not encourage this feeling, she was too anxious about Donald to miss his father's report of him, though she always discounted the same. But she reminded him for his comfort that when he returned from Glasgow on Monday he would find Marion at home to welcome him.

"I expect that," he answered promptly. "If I am disappointed I shall go to Cramer Hall for her."

However, very early on Monday morning Mrs. Caird saw Marion and Lord Cramer from afar, riding very slowly over the brae and, apparently, engaged in a conversation that admitted of none of the little irregularities of light or fugitive intercourse. Their attitude as they came nearer was distinctly, though unconsciously, that of lovers; and when Mrs. Caird met them she saw with delight the sunshine on their faces, mingling with a glory and radiance far sunnier from within; and heard the pride and tenderness in Lord Cramer's voice as he said, "Good morning, Mrs. Caird, I have brought Marion safely back to you."

"You have done well," she answered. "The Minister was wearying for her."

"How soon will he return from Glasgow? I wish to speak with him."

"His times are not set times; he comes this hour, and that hour. He deviates a good deal and, as for speech with him, you had better choose any day but Monday."

"Why not Monday, Mrs. Caird?"