Christian fiction; Highlands (Scotland) -- Fiction
All the morning he was busy in the cornyard--with his hands in
preparing new stances for ricks, with his heart in try ing to
content himself beforehand with whatever fate the Lord might intend
for him. As yet he was more of a Christian philosopher than a
philosophical Christian. The thing most disappointing to him he
would treat as the will of God for him, and try to make up his mind
to it, persuading himself it was the right and best thing--as if he
knew it the will of God. He was thus working in the region of
supposition, and not of revealed duty; in his own imagination, and
not in the will of God. If this should not prove the will of God
concerning him, then he was spending his strength for nought. There
is something in the very presence and actuality of a thing to make
one able to bear it; but a man may weaken himself for bearing what
God intends him to bear, by trying to bear what God does not intend
him to bear. The chief was forestalling the morrow like an
unbeliever--not without some moral advantage, I dare say, but with
spiritual loss. We have no right to school ourselves to an imaginary
duty. When we do not know, then what he lays upon us is NOT TO KNOW,
and to be content not to know. The philosopher is he who lives in
the thought of things, the Christian is he who lives in the things
themselves. The philosopher occupies himself with God's decree, the
Christian with God's will; the philosopher with what God may intend,
the Christian with what God wants HIM TO DO.
The laird looked up and there were the young ladies! It was the
first time Christina had come nigh the cottage since Ian's
departure.
"Can you tell me, Macruadh," she said, "what makes Mrs. Conal so
spiteful always? When we bade her good morning a few minutes ago,
she overwhelmed us with a torrent of abuse!"
"How did you know it was abuse?"
"We understand enough of Gaelic to know it was not exactly blessing
us she was. It is not necessary to know cat-language to distinguish
between purring and spitting! What harm have we done? Her voice was
fierce, and her eyes were like two live peats flaming at us! Do
speak to her."
"It would be of no use!"
"Where's the good of being chief then? I don't ask you to make the
old woman civil, but I think you might keep her from insulting your
friends! I begin to think your chiefdom a sham!"
"I doubt indeed if it reaches to the tongues of the clan! But let us
go and tell my mother. She may be able to do something with her!"
Christina went into the cottage; the chief drew Mercy back.
"What do you think the first duty of married people, Mercy--to each
other, I mean," he said.
"To be always what they look," answered Mercy.
"Yes, but I mean actively. What is it their first duty to do towards
each other?"
"I can't answer that without thinking."
"Is it not each to help the other to do the will of God?"
"I would say YES if I were sure I really meant it."
"You will mean it one day."
"Are you sure God will teach me?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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