The Tryst (Annotated) (Grace Livingston Hill Book) (35 page)

“Hath everlasting life, sir. Hath! That means now, sir, not wait till you die, sir, but have it now, sir. That means no dying to speak of at all, sir, just a casting away of the flesh, sir, but a living forever, sir, in a new garment, sir.” 

“HESPUR! DO YOU KNOW what you're TALKING ABOUT?”

“Oh, yes, sir. I'm sure, sir. My mother used to talk that way quite often, sir, and my grandmother, sir. I, boylike, didn't take much recognition of it then, sir, but it stuck, sir,and it's all coming back.” 

“Well, then, you old RASCAL--if you know so blasted much, GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES AND P-R-A-Y! Do you HEAR? Pray for us BOTH! For I don't want to be without you!” 

Hespur got stiffly down beside the bed and folded his hands, lifting closed eyes toward Heaven: 

“Oh, Lord, sir, we Thy humble creatures!” 

“I'm NOT humble,” murmured the old man belligerently, “I never was and I WON'T BE!” 

“Oh, Lord, excuse Him, sir, he doesn't rightly understand that he's in the presence of the great God!” 

“I thought you said He loved me--” whined the sick man. 

''Yes, master. He loves you, but you must be humble, sir--” Hespur put a hushing hand on the restless old claw, and spoke in a low tone as if to keep the God of Heaven from hearing how he had to bolster up the old sinner's first prayer. Then he went on in a louder voice: “Oh, Lord, we feel to know we are sinners--!” 

The old man uttered a protesting growl but the servant's voice drowned it out, “Yes, sinners. Lord, we find it right hard to own that, but we know it is true. We are some sorry. Lord, but we want to be sorrier yet before we are done. We want to be sorry enough to get you to listen and forgive us, and make us right before God and ready to go home to those mansions. Not that I would presume to ask for a mansion, Lord, only that my old master he's used to me like, and wants me around, and I won't take up much room. I'm handy anywhere, and wouldn't intrude. Oh, Lord, Sir!” 

“That's enough! That's enough! Cut out that stuff! Of course He'll let you in Hespur if he lets ME. It's Me that's been wicked all my life. It's me that put my foot on the poor, and crushed out the life from all the pretty things that ever came in my path just to get what I wanted; and even was too stubborn to get the thing I wanted most in my life. Get up, you old rascal, you aren't the sinner. It's ME! Get up and bring me a pen and some paper. I want to write a letter!” 

Hespur arose reluctantly and protested: 

“Oh, sir, waitey! waitey! Just a day or so till the doctor says you are stronger.” 

“The doctor's a liar! What difference does it make what he says? You know I won't get any stronger and I know I won't get any stronger and that's all there is to it. GET ME THAT PEN!” 

When the letter was finished in a quavering hand, sealed and addressed, he handed it with a weary gesture to Hespur and said in a cross, feeble voice: 

“Now, when I'm dead I want you to see that that letter gets to its destination and the white diamond sent with it, BUT DON'T YOU LOOK AT THE ADDRESS! D'ye HEAR?” 

"Oh, yes; yes, sir, of course, sir. Ill do it, sir. I'll deliver it in person, sir. Don't you worry another bit about it, I'll not forget. Now, that's all right, sir; now you take a little nap.”

Old Hespur smoothed the covers and drew down the shade, brought broth and fed him spoonfuls, then hovered over him, watching his feeble old breath. 

But he rallied again as he had rallied many times before, although each time he came up a little more slowly, and not quite so far. His eyes grew to have a hungry, vague look when he awoke from his long drowses, and often they would seem to be searching for something. It was only when Hespur would produce the Bible or one of his nephew's sermons that he seemed satisfied. Now and then a bright little letter came from Patty, like a ray of purest sunshine and it would be read and reread, and kept close to the pillow, where the old hand would now and again grope out and feel of it. 

There came a morning when Hespur, watching the old face with anxious eyes, noticing the caressing touch of the letter under his pillow, sat down on his own initiative and wrote a letter: 

“Dear Miss” it read, 

Begging your pardon for presuming to address you, I just want to tell you that your old friend Mr. Treeves is not feeling so well, and has not so long to stay. If there might be a way that you could run down for a day and just drop in kind of casual like to see him it certainly would be a heavenly action, for the poor old body gets out of his bed no more, and has no one to cheer him up but me. He lots greatly on your letters, and it's that pitiful to see him smooth it and touch it when he thinks no one is looking. Of course it's asking a lot, but if you could see your way clear I'd be glad to bear the expenses of the journey out of my savings. And if I am asking too much I ask your pardon. Miss, and God bless you. 

Your humble servant, 

Hespur Kane.” 

With a furtive look toward his sleeping master, Hespur tiptoed out of the room and mailed his letter. He would have liked to have written another to the nephew, but did not dare. He had broached the subject of sending for young Treeves one day and it had raised such a rumpus that it took hours to undo the mischief. The old man was determined the nephew should stand by his post. He wanted to hear more sermons, to know he was called to the great church, to read his praises in the newspapers, to be sure he was succeeding. He did not wish him to leave New York until everything was assured, and Hespur began to see that his appearance even most casually, while it might please the old man, would also be likely to upset him greatly. 

It was during their reading one day that a new trouble loomed on the horizon for the old man. They had come to the passage : “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.” Hespur was using the new Bible with footnotes that had come only a few days before from a big bookstore in the city. He had seen it advertised and sent for it himself. He took particular pleasure in being able to elucidate a passage of difficult meaning by the aid of the footnotes. Not that he allowed his master to know he was reading footnotes. He usually created the impression that his mother or grandmother had entertained such beliefs, and so explained, the passages carried more weight with the old man. On this particular occasion he would have omitted the verse altogether if he had realized in time what was coming, for he had a vivid memory of the other occasion when the difficulty of a rich man entering Heaven had been discussed; but having blurted out the words before he knew, he hurriedly glanced down at the footnote, for the old man had moaned as if in pain, and the tears were coming down his cheeks: 

“You know. Mister Treeves, you don't have any occasion to feel troubled about that saying, sir. It's all quite plain--” his eyes were hurrying along the fine print of the footnotes. “It seems --why -- now, you know, that needle wasn't a needle at all. That is to say, the needle's eye was a gate, a little gate inside of the great big gate of the city wall, Jerusalem, you know, and it seems, sir, why they say, sir, they always shut that great big gate of the city at sundown every night so no thieves and robbers could get into the city, and then if any travellers came on camels, with big packs on their backs and wanted in, they had to take all the traps off the camel, and lift and hoist him in. The little gate, the needle's eye, that is, was up high from the ground, and they had to lift up the camel's feet one at a time, sir, one at a time, little by little, and push the beast and drag him in, and then the man himself, rich as he was, had to be helped up that way, too. There wasn't room for him to ride in head up with all his baggage hitched on, the way a rich man by rights should go, sir, because the big gate would be shut; but he got there, sir, HE GOT THERE! Mind!” 

“Hespur!” arraigned the little old sick man. “You're not saying that, you're reading it. Where do you get all that chatter? Let me see the book.” 

And thereafter he was deeply interested in the footnotes, asking again and again for notes on the passages read, and disappointed as a child if a passage he wanted was not touched upon. One afternoon he suddenly spoke out of what Hespur had supposed was a sound sleep : 

“Hespur! You don't suppose the curse will go with the money, do you? You don't suppose if I give my money to my nephew that he will begin to love the money and forget everything else the way I did, do you?” 

“Not for a minute, sir! Not for a minute!” cried old Hespur, coming close to the bed. “Remember how I told you about the night on the mountain, sir. He's met with the Lord, sir, and found something better than money can ever give. Besides, sir, don't you remember your ownself, sir, begging pardon, sir, how he told you if he had the money he would only use it in his work?  I think you can trust him to give the money back to God, sir. It's the only place it'll be safe, sir. The only place.” 

A kind of relief came into the old face, something resembling a calm into the turbulent eyes. 

“That's so, Hespur. That's so! Hespur, you're a great comfort!” and the thin old hand stole out and caught Hespur's strong one. 

“Therey! Therey! master, sir ! You do me great honor to say that, sir! I'll not forget it, sir!” 

“But you'll remember the times I've cursed you, too!” wailed the shrill voice. “I've been an ungrateful old sinner! Hespur, I've made everybody hate me!” 

“No, master, no master, not me, sir. You've been a good master to me always, sir. You needn't to mind what you've done to me, sir. It ain't in the account at all. I've just put it all by and took no thought of it. Just you make it light with the Lord, sir; I'11 stand by.” 

“Oh, the Lord! The Lord! He won't take what I've given you! I tell you, Hespur, I've been a great sinner -- a very great sinner! I've spoiled more lives, and my own, and I've never stopped to think of the Lord, nor care, and He has been seeing that all these years--” 

“But' Master, master. Mister Treeves, have you forgot, 'The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin. ALL Sin! Have you forgot, sir? God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth HATH everlasting life. God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.' And He said, ' If we confess our sin. He is faithful and just to forgive us our sin and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' Have you forgot, sir, that's in the sermon we got to-day. Cleanse us. Cleanse us from all! The blood of Christ cleanses!” 

The old man tossed weakly from side to side: 

“Yes, but Hespur, that's an awful chance. How can I be sure He'll do it? How can I be sure I've fulfilled the conditions for all that? I'm an awful sinner, and now right at the end when I've had my own way all my life and got mad when I didn't, and cursed and hated and been cruel, how could I take any comfort out of that?” 

“He says it. He says if we confess our sins : Sir, Mister Treeves, begging pardon, why don't you confess your sins to Him, sir?”

“Why don't you do it for me, Hespur? Don't you see that's what I want?”

“I -- I'm not rightly sure that will do, sir, but I'll try, sir, and I'll tell Him you want to say so, too, sir!” and Hespur dropped upon his knees on the floor beside the bed: 

“Oh, God!” he cried earnestly, his habitual obsequiousness for once overpowered by his love for his master in this trying strait: 

“Oh, God! We have sinned very greatly! We have sinned all our lives! We have done evil in Thy sight. We have not thought about Thee!-- We have neglected the Holy Scripture! We have not believed on the Son!” 

“There! THERE! THERE!” yelled the old man indignantly. “Stop that! You're praying for yourself! I told you to pray for me! You don't need it now. It's I that needs it! Pray for me! ME! I tell you! Tell Him I'm a sinner!” 

“He's a sinner, Lord, yes. Lord, He's a sinner, begging his pardon, sir --but so am I a sinner, too!” 

“STOP!” 

“Lord, he'll have to tell you himself!” wailed the old servant. “You've promised. You said your Son would take the blame! Just save him, won't you, and take away the fear of going from him? Lord, he'll have to tell You himself. Mister Treeves, master, you'll have to tell Him for yourself. It ain't like it was a message to anybody else, sir. He's the King of Heaven, sir, and you'll have to go yourself.” 

“What shall I say?” wailed the thin, old, frightened voice. 

“Say you've sinned, sir.”

“Lord, I've sinned!” repeated the old man with anguish like the sobbing of a naughty child. 

“Say your sorry!” commanded Hespur. 

“I'm sorry!” 

“Say you're not worthy to be called his child but He's to do with you what He pleases!” 

The old man uttered a shrill scream and clung to the servant's hand: 

“No, Hespur! No! NO! Not that Hespur! He promised. He said He would save all who came to God by Him. You read it just to-day! HESPUR! Oh, God, in the name of Jesus Christ, forgive my sins and make me clean!” 

“Amen! Lord, sir! Hear that! You wouldn't go back on your promises, Lord! You said it! He's believed it! Now save Him for Thy mercy's sake!” 

The old man slept like a little child that night, and awoke with a sweet smile on his face, but Hespur, watching earnestly, could see that he was weaker, and he almost longed for the old anger to break out against him, it was so pitiful to see him meek and gentle this way. 

“I feel so --unready-!” the weak voice quavered! 

There are things I might have done-- Things-- but there! I'll have to leave it all! It's like going out to a great dinner without being shaved and dressed! Oh, Hespur! You'll tell the boy sometime, sometime You'll tell him he's a great deal to undo for me.” 

“I'll tell him, sir! That I will, sir!” The old servant turned away to hide his emotion. 

“You'll take care of him, Hespur, when I'm gone?” 

“That I will, sir. I'll do my best, sir.” 

“He'll mebbe not let you!” sighed old Treeves. “He's headstrong, you know.” 

“I'll care for him whether he lets me or not,” said the servant firmly. “So long as I'm spared I'll look after him, sir. You've fixed it so as I've no need to work for my living any more, sir, and I'll see that he's cared for as well as I can.”