The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Old Time English
General
The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Old Time English
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction; Ghost stories
He stopped, his voice quivering; and then after a pause went on
again more calmly, "And throughout it is the same. Moral precepts
everywhere, which will admit of no compromise, no limitation, and
yet which are at war with our strongest passions. If one could
only interpose some 'unless,' some 'except,' even an 'until,' which
should be short of the grave. But we cannot. The law is infinite,
universal, eternal; there is no escape, no repose. Resist, strive,
endure, that is the recurring cry; that is existence."
"And peace," I exclaimed, appealingly. "Where is there room for
peace, if that be true?"
He sighed for answer, and then in a changed and lower tone added,
"However thickly the clouds mass, however vainly we search for a
coming glimmer in their midst, we never doubt that the sky IS still
beyond--beyond and around us, infinite and infinitely restful."
He raised his eyes as he spoke, and mine followed his. We had
entered the wooded glen. Through the scanty autumn foliage we
could see the stars shining faintly in the dim moonlight, and
beyond them the deep illimitable blue. A dark world it looked,
distant and mysterious, and my young spirit rebelled at the
consolation offered me.
"Peace seems a long way off," I whispered.
"It is for me," he answered, gently; "not necessarily for you."
"Oh, but I am worse and weaker than you are. If life is to be all
warfare, I must be beaten. I cannot always be fighting."
"Cannot you? Evie, what I have been saying is true of every moral
law worth having, of every ideal of life worth striving after, that
men have yet conceived. But it is only half the truth of
Christianity. You know that. We must strive, for the promise is
to him that overcometh; but though our aim be even higher than is
that of others, we cannot in the end fail to reach it. The victory
of the Cross is ours. You know that? You believe that?"
"Yes" I answered, softly, too surprised to say more. In speaking
of religion he, as a rule, showed to the full the reserve which is
characteristic of his class and country, and this sudden outburst
was in itself astonishing; but the eager anxiety with which he
emphasized the last words of appeal impressed and bewildered me
still further. We walked on for some minutes in silence. Then
suddenly Alan stopped, and turning, took my hand in his. In what
direction his mind had been working in the interval I could not
divine; but the moment he began to speak I felt that he was now for
the first time giving utterance to what had been really at the
bottom of his thoughts the whole evening. Even in that dim light I
could see the anxious look upon his face, and his voice shook with
restrained emotion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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