Chapter VII: Charity Revived

MR. MONKS was here so overcome that he groaned aloud, seizing the chair to support himself. It was several minutes before he recovered his voice.

"If I have learned to be careful in judging others, to try and think and hope for the best, instead of the worst," he went on at last, "I acquired the lesson in a fearful school. That night, Arthur, my beloved, my only brother, was seized with delirium. He lived ten days; but the only opportunity to confess my injustice, to plead for his forgiveness, had passed. He raved day and night about my altered looks; he implored me by the love we used to bear each other to forgive him, if he had unintentionally offended; he called me by every endearing name; but not once did he recognise me."

"All this time, I never left him. I could neither eat nor sleep. My love to my pure, noble brother had revived with ten-fold strength; but conscience was aroused at last, and in a voice of thunder set my sins in order before me. I wept, I entreated him by every name that was tender, to live for my sake, to forgive my cruel suspicions. I was answered either by an unmeaning laugh, or a heart-rending cry for me to love him."

"The end came at last; came without one word to ease the anguish that gnawed at my heart. For four months, my reason fled; when I slowly recovered, I was in despair; but through the mercy of a crucified Redeemer, I learned at last to hope that even my sins might be washed away in atoning blood."

Not a sound could be heard except the sobs by which the scholars showed their sympathy with their teacher, and presently, in a broken voice, he asked God to teach them all, both instructors and scholars, to cultivate charity which is the bond of perfectness.

He had intended to speak of Frank and his sister, to express his own conviction of the lad's innocence of the charge laid to him; but his voice failed.

He sat down until they had passed out into the hall, concealing his face behind a book. He started to find a little hand pressed into his.

"Dear Mr. Monks," she said, choking back a sob, "I'm so sorry. I can't help loving Arthur dearly. I know Jesus forgave you."

He caught her in his arms; and blessed tears came to his relief.

"You did not need the lesson," he faltered, at last. "You did have charity for poor Frank."

"Oh, I knew he didn't take the chain! He isn't such a kind of boy. I'm almost sure now the scholars wont treat him unkindly any more. I'm sure they'll remember—"

She interrupted herself quickly as she saw him start, gave his hand a kiss, and darted away.

Child that she was, her words had comforted him.

The school-room was now deserted, and leaning his head on his desk, he poured out a prayer to God for a blessing on his endeavors to cultivate a spirit of love and charity among his pupils. He prayed for Lionel, for Frank and his sister, for the widowed mother, afflicted in her children's affliction; and then he prayed humbly for himself, that the sin of his youth might not rise up in judgment against him.

He was locking his desk, when he thought he heard a noise in the hall, and presently Lionel came in, blushing painfully.

"I forgot my geography," he muttered, going toward his seat, "and oh, Mr. Monks, I believe Frank is innocent! I'm sorry I said what I did. He isn't such a kind of boy as that. He found my rubbers when I thought they were lost; and he might have kept them if he'd been a thief; and oh, Mr. Monks! If it hadn't been for Frank, I never could have kept up with the class. He makes me study my lessons over and over, when a great many times I think I can't do it; and I'd rather play."

"I tried to believe it," he went on, much confused, but resolved now that he had begun, to confess the whole. "I told the boys I knew he'd got it. I asked them what else he could be doing there. I told Sophia Lane how he blushed when I asked him what he was looking for. I was envious of him, Mr. Monks, and when you read that chapter, I thought how it described all I had done."

"I tried to think badly of him, I didn't hope the best, I puffed myself up that I wouldn't steal; but now I do want to have charity, sir."

"You see already its blessed fruits," answered the gentleman, kindly. "First, you begin to think less of yourself, and then more of your neighbor. You recall to mind all his good traits, which previously, you forgot or put out of sight."

"Do you believe he'll forgive me, sir?"

"Go and ask him."

This was said with a smile, and Lionel darted away.