The Seaboard Parish, Complete

“O deary me! sir, don’t go and tell him I said anything, as if I wanted him to marry my daughter.”

“Don’t you be afraid. I’ll take good care of that. And don’t fancy I’m fond of meddling with other people’s affairs. But this is a case in which I ought to do something. Joe’s a fine fellow.”

“That he be, sir. I couldn’t wish a better for a son-in-law.”

I put on my hat.

“You won’t get me into no trouble with Joe, will ye, sir!”

“Indeed I will not, Mrs. Coombes. I should be doing a great deal more harm than good if I said a word to make him doubt you.”

I went straight to the church. There were the two men working away in the shadowy tower, and there was Agnes standing beside, knitting like her mother, so quiet, so solemn even, that it did indeed look as if she were a long-married wife, hovering about her husband at his work. Harry was saying something to her as I went in, but when they saw me they were silent, and Agnes gently withdrew.

“Do you think you will get through to-night?” I asked.

“Sure of it, sir,” answered Harry.

“You shouldn’t be sure of anything, Harry. We are told in the New Testament that we ought to say If the Lord will,” said Joe.

“Now, Joe, you’re too hard upon Harry,” I said. “You don’t think that the Bible means to pull a man up every step like that, till he’s afraid to speak a word. It was about a long journey and a year’s residence that the Apostle James was speaking.”

“No doubt, sir. But the principle’s the same. Harry can no more be sure of finishing his work before it be dark, than those people could be of going their long journey.”

“That is perfectly true. But you are taking the letter for the spirit, and that, I suspect, in more ways than one. The religion does not lie in not being sure about anything, but in a loving desire that the will of God in the matter, whatever it be, may be done. And if Harry has not learned yet to care about the will of God, what is the good of coming down upon him that way, as if that would teach him in the least. When he loves God, then, and not till then, will he care about his will. Nor does the religion lie in saying, if the Lord will, every time anything is to be done. It is a most dangerous thing to use sacred words often. It makes them so common to our ear that at length, when used most solemnly, they have not half the effect they ought to have, and that is a serious loss. What the Apostle means is, that we should always be in the mood of looking up to God and having regard to his will, not always writing D.V. for instance, as so many do—most irreverently, I think—using a Latin contraction for the beautiful words, just as if they were a charm, or as if God would take offence if they did not make the salvo of acknowledgment. It seems to me quite heathenish. Our hearts ought ever to be in the spirit of those words; our lips ought to utter them rarely. Besides, there are some things a man might be pretty sure the Lord wills.”

“It sounds fine, sir; but I’m not sure that I understand what you mean to say. It sounds to me like a darkening of wisdom.”

I saw that I had irritated him, and so had in some measure lost ground. But Harry struck in—

“How can you say that now, Joe? I know what the parson means well enough, and everybody knows I ain’t got half the brains you’ve got.”

“The reason is, Harry, that he’s got something in his head that stands in the way.”

“And there’s nothing in my head to stand in the way!” returned Harry, laughing.

This made me laugh too, and even Joe could not help a sympathetic grin. By this time it was getting dark.

“I’m afraid, Harry, after all, you won’t get through to-night.”

“I begin to think so too, sir. And there’s Joe saying, ‘I told you so,’ over and over to himself, though he won’t say it out like a man.”

Joe answered only with another grin.

“I tell you what it is, Harry,” I said—“you must come again on Monday. And on your way home, just look in and tell Joe’s mother that I have kept him over to-morrow. The change will do him good.”

“No, sir, that can’t he. I haven’t got a clean shirt.”

“You can have a shirt of mine,” I said. “But I’m afraid you’ll want your Sunday clothes.”

“I’ll bring them for you, Joe—before you’re up,” interposed Harry. “And then you can go to church with Aggy Coombes, you know.”

Here was just what I wanted.

“Hold your tongue, Harry,” said Joe angrily. “You’re talking of what you don’t know anything about.”

“Well, Joe, I ben’t a fool, if I ben’t so religious as you be. You ben’t a bad fellow, though you be a Methodist, and I ben’t a fool, though I be Harry Cobb.”

“What do you mean, Harry? Do hold your tongue.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what I mean first, and then I’ll hold my tongue. I mean this—that nobody with two eyes, or one eye, for that matter, in his head, could help seeing the eyes you and Aggy make at each other, and why you don’t port your helm and board her—I won’t say it’s more than I know, but I du say it to be more than I think be fair to the young woman.”

“Hold your tongue, Harry.”

“I said I would when I’d answered you as to what I meaned. So no more at present; but I’ll be over with your clothes afore you’re up in the morning.”

As Harry spoke he was busy gathering his tools.

“They won’t be in the way, will they, sir?” he said, as he heaped them together in the furthest corner of the tower.

“Not in the least,” I returned. “If I had my way, all the tools used in building the church should be carved on the posts and pillars of it, to indicate the sacredness of labour, and the worship of God that lies, not in building the church merely, but in every honest trade honestly pursued for the good of mankind and the need of the workman. For a necessity of God is laid upon every workman as well as on St. Paul. Only St. Paul saw it, and every workman doesn’t, Harry.”

“Thank you, sir. I like that way of it. I almost think I could be a little bit religious after your way of it, sir.”

“Almost, Harry!” growled Joe—not unkindly.

“Now, you hold your tongue, Joe,” I said. “Leave Harry to me. You may take him, if you like, after I’ve done with him.”

Laughing merrily, but making no other reply than a hearty good-night, Harry strode away out of the church, and Joe and I went home together.

When he had had his tea, I asked him to go out with me for a walk.

The sun was shining aslant upon the downs from over the sea. We rose out of the shadowy hollow to the sunlit brow. I was a little in advance of Joe. Happening to turn, I saw the light full on his head and face, while the rest of his body had not yet emerged from the shadow.

“Stop, Joe,” I said. “I want to see you so for a moment.”

He stood—a little surprised.

“You look just like a man rising from the dead, Joe,” I said.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” he returned.

“I will describe yourself to you. Your head and face are full of sunlight, the rest of your body is still buried in the shadow. Look; I will stand where you are now; and you come here. You will soon see what I mean.”

We changed places. Joe stared for a moment. Then his face brightened.

“I see what you mean, sir,” he said. “I fancy you don’t mean the resurrection of the body, but the resurrection of righteousness.”

“I do, Joe. Did it ever strike you that the whole history of the Christian life is a series of such resurrections? Every time a man bethinks himself that he is not walking in the light, that he has been forgetting himself, and must repent, that he has been asleep and must awake, that he has been letting his garments trail, and must gird up the loins of his mind—every time this takes place, there is a resurrection in the world. Yes, Joe; and every time that a man finds that his heart is troubled, that he is not rejoicing in God, a resurrection must follow—a resurrection out of the night of troubled thoughts into the gladness of the truth. For the truth is, and ever was, and ever must be, gladness, however much the souls on which it shines may be obscured by the clouds of sorrow, troubled by the thunders of fear, or shot through with the lightnings of pain. Now, Joe, will you let me tell you what you are like—I do not know your thoughts; I am only judging from your words and looks?”