The Seeker by Harry Leon Wilson
page 250 of 334 (74%)
page 250 of 334 (74%)
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"Oh, Bernal, if you could--if you could come back to do what your
grandfather really wanted you to do--to preach something worth while!" "I doubt the need for my message, Nance. I need for myself a God that could no more spare a Hottentot than a Pope--but I doubt if the world does. No one would listen to me--I'm only a dreamer. Once, when I was small they gave me a candy cane for Christmas. It was a thing I had long worshipped in shop-windows--actually worshipped as the primitive man worshipped his idol. I can remember how sad I was when no one else worshipped with me, or paid the least attention to my treasure. I suspect I shall meet the same indifference now. And I hope I'll have the same philosophy. I remember I brought myself to eat the cane, which I suppose is the primary intention regarding them--and perhaps the fruits of one's faith should be eaten quite as practically." They had sent no word to Allan, agreeing it were better fun to surprise him. When they took the train together on the third day, the wife not less than the brother looked forward to a joyous reunion with him. And now that Nancy had proved in her heart the perverse unwifeliness of her old attitude and was eager to begin the symbolic rites of her atonement, it came to her to wonder how Bernal would have judged her had she persisted in that first wild impulse of rebellion. She wanted to see from what degree of his reprobation she had saved herself. She would be circuitous in her approach. "You remember, Bernal, that night you went away--how you said there was no moral law under the sky for you but your own?" He smiled, and above the noise of the train his voice came to her as his voice of old came above the noise of the years. |
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