Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's BroodYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's Brood
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Religious fiction
“Yes,” said John; “I couldn’t stand doubt there. I would rather break
stones on the road than set myself doubting!”
“Why should you think that there is danger?”
“It seems to be so with others.”
“Depend upon it, Doubting Castle never lay on the straight road. If men
run into it, it is not simple study of the works of creation that leads
them there; but either they have only acquiesced, and never made their
faith a living reality, or else they are led away by fashion and pride
of intellect. One who begins and goes on in active love of God and man,
will find faith and reverence not diminished but increased.”
“But aren’t there speculations and difficulties?”
“None which real active religion, and love cannot regard as the mere
effects of half-knowledge--the distortions of a partial view. I speak
with all my heart, as one who has seen how it has been with many of my
own generation, as well as with myself.”
Johnny bent his head, and the young physician, somewhat surprised at
finding himself saying so much on such points, left that branch of the
subject, and began to talk to him about his uncle.
CHAPTER XXII. -- SHUTTING THE STABLE DOOR.
Presumptuous maid, with looks intent,
Again she gazed, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between.
Grey.
“Hurrah! It’s Johnny!”
“Georgie. Recollect yourself.”
“But, mamma, it was Johnny.”
“Johnny does not come till evening. Sit still, children, or I shall have
to send you to dine in the nursery.”
“Somebody did pass the window, mamma, but I thought it was Rob,” said
Jessie, now grown into a very fine-looking, tall, handsome maiden, with
a grandly-formed head and shoulders, and pleasant soft brown eyes.
“It was Johnny,” reiterated little George; and at that moment the
dining-room door opened, and the decorum of the luncheon dinner entirely
giving way, the three little ones all precipitated themselves towards
the entering figure, while Jessie and her mother rose at their two
ends of the table, and the Colonel, no luncheon eater, came in from the
study.
“What, Johnny, already!”
“The tidal train was earlier than I expected, so I have another
half-day.”
“Well! are you all well?”
“Quite well. Why--how you are grown! I thought it was Rob when you
passed my window,” said his father.
“So did I at first,” added Jessie, “but Rob is much broader.”
“Yes,” said his mother. “I am glad you are come back, Johnny; you look
thin and pale. Sit down. Some mutton or some rabbit-pie? No, no, let
Jessie help you; you shan’t have all the carving; I’m sure you are
tired; you don’t look at all well.”
“I was crossing all night, you know,” said Johnny laughing, “and am
as hungry as a hunter, that’s all. What a blessing to see a nice clean
English potato again without any flummery!”
“Ah! I thought so,” said his mother; “they didn’t know how to feed you.
It was an unfortunate business altogether.”
“How did you leave those poor boys, Johnny?” asked his father.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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