CHAPTER XXXIV.

A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION.

"There are some moments in our fate

That stamp the colour of our days.”

As James Gordon uttered these words, Sir Edward rose and paced the apartment with quick uneven footsteps, and eyes thoughtfully bent upon the ground.

In a moment, the cause of his painful and often protracted seasons of darkness and despondency was clearly revealed to him; and although his partial heart sought to palliate its insidious tendency to self-engrossment, by reminding him that the very fact of his having allowed himself to cherish such a vivid perception of his own depravity and helplessness should afford him satisfaction, rather than regret, he was nevertheless constrained to admit that it had been the origin of much perplexity, hopelessness, and unbelief; perpetually depriving him of all sensible comfort or enjoyment in religion, and excluding him from many of those spiritual privileges which are found so precious and refreshing to the souls of those who aspire to be strong, active, and vigorous Christians.

Do not mistake me, dear reader.

It is well for us to think lowly of ourselves-well to feel that we are poor, and miserable, and blind, and naked; that our holiest actions are steeped in guilt, our purest thoughts defiled with sin, our best prayers need cleansing, and our very tears washing in the blood of Immanuel.

Oh, yes, it is well thus to lie at the Saviour's feet, thus to acknowledge our frailties and shortcomings, and confess ourselves the chief of sinners-but we must do more.

Instead of lingering on ourselves, until at length the world takes knowledge of us (not that we have been holding communion with Him who says, "Your joy no man taketh from you," but that religion renders us dull, mopish, and miserable), let us gaze more on the perfections of His glorious character, and less on the imperfections of our own; then shall we find, to [our inexpressible comfort, that "Grace doth more exalt us, than our humility depresses us.”

But I am wandering from my subject, and very needlessly, you say, since we are all too prone to err on the other side, and find that the difficulty generally is in striving to conquer our stubborn independent wills, and subdue the pride of our natural dispositions.

This, in the majority of cases, may perhaps be true; but I am convinced that there are instances not a few wherein timid and easily discouraged Christians are kept, like our friend Sir Edward, from making that advancement in the Divine life which they might and ought to make, through the constant habit (fostered no doubt by Satan himself) of turning their eyes within, where there is everything to disturb and harass, and nothing to encourage them.

To comfort such, M'Cheyne's words are peculiarly adapted:

"Do not take up your time so much with studying your own heart as with studying Christ's heart."

For one look at yourself, take ten looks at Christ."

James Gordon began to fear, from the absolute silence which Sir Edward continued to maintain, that his plain speaking had in some way proved offensive to him. This idea troubled him not a little, and whenever the young man passed him in his walk up and down the room, he looked furtively at him from under his eyelids, hoping thereby to gain an insight into the nature of his lengthened meditations. These were, however, soon brought to an abrupt termination by the loud ringing of the dinner bell.

"Ah, Gordon," said Sir Edward, starting slightly as he once more became conscious of his presence. "I am sorry to say, I had positively forgotten you. But," he added, in a low voice of emotion, “you will, I feel sure, forgive me when I tell you that I have been seriously reflecting upon what you last said, and your words have comforted me greatly."

"O sir," cried Gordon, his face flushing deep with pleasure, “I was afraid I might have unintentionally caused you annoyance."

Sir Edward smiled, and gently touched him on the arm, as he answered pleasantly, "I wish we could remain a little longer together, James, and finish our conversation."

If you can spare me a few minutes to-morrow morning, sir, it will do just as well," returned the other, rising and opening the door. "I should like to have an opportunity of explaining my reasons for wishing to remain with Mr. Herbert."

Very well," said Sir Edward. "I shall be here "-pointing to the room they were leaving-" directly after breakfast."

"In the meanwhile, might I ask you not to mention to Mr. Herbert my anxiety to continue in his service?" said Gordon, dropping his voice to an earnest whisper.

Sir Edward turned round, and surveyed him with another of his strangely mingled glances of doubt and amusement, while answering good humouredly, "All right-I will be on my guard."

And he kept his word; for though Herbert eagerly informed him of the result of his own interview with this anomalous individual, and expressed his conviction that ultimately he would thankfully respond to Sir Edward's kind proposition, the latter immediately changed the subject without in any way alluding to what had so recently passed between James Gordon and himself.

That night Herbert felt stronger than he had yet done since his illness, in consequence of which he sat up much later than usual.

As the time approached for them to separate, the young baronet showed evident signs of restlessness and uneasiness. Several times he seemed on the point of speaking, and as often repressing the words which were trembling on his lip, he would turn hastily away, and walking to one of the windows, fling aside the curtain, and stand for some minutes silently gazing out upon the star-lit sky. Lady Stanley's surprise, as her eyes followed these erratic movements, was not unmingled with alarm, and more than once she stopped short in the middle of a sentence, unable to conceal her solicitude.

At last Sir Edward came behind her, and, leaning over the back of her chair, so that she could not see his face, he said in a tone where gentleness mingled with firmness, "Mother, it has often occurred to

me lately that we ought to assemble regularly as a household, for morning and evening prayers."

The lady looked round with a startled and even troubled expression; and her manner was agitated as she echoed involuntarily, " Prayers!" "Yes," answered the young man, gravely; "have we not neglected this duty too long, my dearest mother?"

"Of course you are at liberty to act as you think proper in your own house," returned Lady Stanley, after a short pause; and her voice, though perfectly polite, and free from the least shadow of annoyance, lacked that warmth and cordial sympathy which she would have manifested on any other subject.

Sir Edward felt this omission keenly; and the tears stood thick in his eyes as he asked mournfully, O mother! is it thus you would bring back the remembrance of him we have lost?"

"No, Edward," she answered, her own lip quivering; "I merely wished to remind you of your own personal responsibility."

"But have you no objection to my plan being carried out?" inquired her son, colouring, and endeavouring to smile.

"Have you

"Not if you are really bent on it," replied Lady Stanley, laying her hand on his arm, and drawing him closer to her. given the matter due consideration?"

Firmly and conclusively the young man answered, "I have." "And decided?"

"Yes: it is, in my opinion, not only a positive duty to be performed,

"Very well," exclaimed the lady, cutting short his argument. "I will give the necessary orders. When would you wish to begin? "There is no time like the present," said Sir Edward, taking up a large Bible, and putting it before his friend. "Herbert, you will be our chaplain to-night, will you not?"

"But, Edward," interposed his mother, staring blankly at him, "why this precipitance? Mr. Seymour's health may suffer from it." "There can be no danger of that," exclaimed the latter, speaking for the first time. "I thank God," he added fervently, while clasping his friend's hand in his own, "for thus putting it into your heart to honour Him before your household, and shall with the greatest pleasure assist you, if Lady Stanley gives me permission."

"You must do all or nothing," said Sir Edward, in low, hurried tones; and Herbert as he gazed into his countenance, surcharged with deep anxiety and responsibility, felt that it would be cruel to refuse the request. He could understand something of the struggle he had gone through before bringing himself to take such a decisive step, as well as the wave upon wave of agitating and contending feelings which he had doubtless encountered, ere he could muster firmness and resolution-qualities quite foreign to his nature-to announce his intention to Lady Stanley, and, in spite of her evident lack of sympathy or encouragement, adopt measures for carrying it into prompt execution.

"Well, Edward, you shall be obeyed," replied Herbert, as these thoughts passed rapidly through his mind; "I know it always seems a formidable undertaking at first, but once commenced, the rest is easy." Sir Edward cast on him a look of mingled gratitude and affection, and then turning to his mother, said appealingly,

"Now we have only to summon the servants. May I ring the bell ?

ΙΟ

"Certainly," she answered, smiling faintly, and having thus, however reluctantly, yielded her assent, she rose to the occasion, and issued her orders to the old butler, who presently appeared at the door, with all her usual grace and calm dignity of manner.

During the slight bustle which was unavoidably caused by the servants taking their respective places, Herbert and Sir Edward exchanged a few whispered words; but when this had subsided, and unbroken silence reigned in the room, the latter seated himself by the side of his mother, and Herbert proceeded to conduct the simple yet important service, by reading the first sixteen verses of Christ's Sermon on the Mount.

He added no comment of his own, neither was any needful. Every word fell clear and fresh upon the ears of those present when uttered by his rich melodious voice; and there was not one amongst them— from the dignified and intelligent Lady Stanley to the simplest and most illiterate of her servants-whose attention he did not instantaneously arrest and fix, causing them, whatever their previous sentiments may have been, to shake off all levity or thoughtless indifference, and listen seriously and reverently to the beautiful lessons of heavenly truth which each succeeding sentence was so peculiarly designed to teach.

Afterwards followed a prayer, brief yet comprehensive, in which could be discerned the devout breathings of a chastened soul; a spirit of filial love, influenced by heaven-born principles, filled with holy aspirations, and guided by infinite wisdom, approaching with confidence the footstool of his Father's throne, and earnestly supplicating the Divine blessing to rest upon every member of that household.

Never before had such a scene been enacted in Lady Stanley's drawing-room; and as with quiet footsteps the well-trained servants withdrew, and Herbert also, after pausing for a moment's reflection, rose to retire for the night, she came forward, and said in a voice tremulous from lately awakened emotion, “Are you very tired?"

"Tired! oh, no," responded the young man, taking her proffered hand, and regarding her with a look of anxious interest.

"We are greatly indebted to you," she murmured, averting her face, lest he should perceive her agitation.

"On the contrary, it is I who should, and do, thank you most sincerely for the happiness you have conferred upon me," replied Herbert, turning gravely away.

And for full ten minutes after he had gone Lady Stanley remained in the same spot, pondering deeply upon these few apparently unimportant words, and asking herself whether she ought to feel vexed or gratified at the extraordinary influence Herbert had so unaccountably acquired over her son.

"And yet it is not unaccountable," she mused with a self-accusing sigh; "there is something very pleasing and superior about him—a strange fascination which draws one almost insensibly towards him, and inspires one with no common degree of confidence and respect. I wonder what it can be?”

Before she had settled this question Sir Edward returned to her, after having accompanied Herbert to his room; and as she marked the added brightness of his countenance, her own brow cleared very considerably, and she inwardly decided that on the whole his friendship with Herbert was a thing to be proud of, rather than the reverse.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THOUGHTS OF KINDNESS.

"Heaven doth with us as we with torches do;
Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike

As if we had them not."

SHAKESPEARE.

PUNCTUAL to his appointment, Sir Edward repaired to his dressingroom soon after breakfast the following morning, where he had a long and confidential interview with James Gordon, in the course of which he learnt many interesting particulars concerning his friend, and was also made acquainted with some of Gordon's own plans for the future.

Had it not been for the warmth and cordiality of Sir Edward's manner towards himself, and his intense affection-bordering almost on enthusiasm for Herbert, James Gordon's lips would have been sealed on these delicate topics. But even he was not proof against the mighty power of sympathy, and feeling that something was due to the young baronet for the kind interest he evinced in his welfare, as well as the care and attention he had so freely lavished upon his sick friend, he poured into his willing ear the story of his own past griefs.

He spoke of his early days, his wild, ungovernable, reckless disposition; his impatient irritation under any, even the gentlest kind of restraint; and his thorough contempt for everything that savoured of religion and godliness.

Then he passed on to speak with shame and sorrow of his more open violations of God's laws-his scornful rejection of his mother's reiterated warnings and reproofs-his sinful wanderings from the path of rectitude and peace-his misery and hopelessnesshis poverty and degradation and despair; how he loathed himself for the evil he committed, and yet repented not of his transgressions, how he longed, yet dreaded, to return to his much-injured parenthoped, yet feared, to behold her face once more before he died!

Of that blessed home-coming his feelings would permit him to say but little, though he dwelt at some length upon the kindness he had received from Herbert, whose indefatigable exertions on his behalf, and the many difficulties he encountered in carrying out his benevolent designs, he eloquently described.

"Well, I cannot blame you for objecting so strongly to leave him," said Sir Edward, when he had concluded his warm panegyric. "I am only afraid that you will meet with more opposition from Herbert than you imagine, as he feels a certain degree of hesitation in consenting to an arrangement by which you would derive so little pecuniary advantage."

"That need not trouble him," returned James Gordon, with singular earnestness, "for"

He paused and cast his eyes on the ground, a shade of embarrassment meanwhile passing over his brow.