A Knight of the Nineteenth Century | Page 6

brief, for his self-control was fast leaving him, and having bowed
a rather abrupt farewell to the doctor, he was not long in reaching one

of his haunts, from which during the evening, and quite late into the
night, came repeated peals of laughter, that grew more boisterous and
discordant as that synonyme of mental and moral anarchy, the "spirit of
wine," gained the mastery.
The tidings of her son's exploit in rescuing the doctor were not long in
reaching Mrs. Haldane, and she felt that the good seed sown that day
had borne immediate fruit. She longed to fold him in her arms and
commend his courage, while she poured out thanksgiving that he
himself had escaped uninjured, which immunity, she believed, must
have resulted from the goodness and piety of the deed. But when he at
last appeared with step so unsteady and utterance so thick that even she
could not mistake the cause, she was bewildered and bitterly
disappointed by the apparent contradictoriness of his action; and when
he, too far gone for dissimulation, described and acted out in
pantomime the doctor's plight and appearance, she became half
hysterical from her desire to laugh, to cry, and to give vent to her
kindling indignation.
This anger was raised almost to the point of white heat on the morrow.
The cause of the old mare's behavior, and the interview which had led
to the practical joke, soon became an open secret, and while it
convulsed the town with laughter, it also gave the impression that
young Haldane was in a "bad way."
It was not long before Mrs. Haldane received a note from an indignant
fellow church-member, in which, with some disagreeable comment, her
son's conduct was plainly stated. She was also informed that the doctor
had become aware of the rude jest of which he had been the subject.
Mrs. Haldane was almost furious; but her son grew sullen and obstinate
as the storm which he had raised increased. The only thing he would
say as an apology or excuse amounted to this:
"What else could he expect from one who he so emphatically asserted
was a sinner?"
The mother wrote at once to the doctor, and was profuse in her
apologies and regrets, but was obliged to admit to him that her son was

beyond her control.
When the doctor first learned the truth his equanimity was almost as
greatly disturbed as it had been on the previous day, and his first
emotions were obviously those of wrath. But a little thought brought
him to a better mood.
He was naturally deficient in tact, and his long habit of dwelling upon
abstract and systematic truth had diminished his power of observantly
and intuitively gauging the character of the one with whom he was
dealing. He therefore often failed wofully in adaptation, and his
sermons occasionally went off into rarefied realms of moral space,
where nothing human existed. But his heart was true and warm, and his
Master's cause of far more consequence to him than his own dignity.
As he considered the matter maturely he came to the conclusion that
there must have been something wrong on both sides. If he had
presented the truth properly the young man could not have acted so
improperly. After recalling the whole affair, he became satisfied that he
had relied far too much on his own strong logic, and it had seemed to
him that it must convince. He had forgotten for the moment that those
who would do good should be very humble, and that, in a certain sense,
they must take the hand of God, and place it upon the one whom they
would save.
Thus the honest old clergyman tried to search out the error and
weakness which had led to such a lamentable failure in his efforts; and
when at last Mrs. Haldane's note of sorrowful apology and motherly
distress reached him, his anger was not only gone, but his heart was full
of commiseration for both herself and her son. He at once sat down,
and wrote her a kind and consolatory letter, in which he charged her
hereafter to trust less to the "arm of flesh" and more to the "power of
God." He also inclosed a note to the young man, which his mother
handed to him with a darkly reproachful glance. He opened it with a
contemptuous frown, expecting to find within only indignant
upbraidings; but his face changed rapidly as he read the following
words:

"MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND--I hardly know which of us should
apologize. I now perceive and frankly admit that there was wrong on
my side. I could not have approached you and spoken to you in the
right spirit, for if I had, what followed could not have occurred.