ty of this dreadful place, among its hard, unfriendly
men. My God! I am but thirty-three years old. How long wilt thou be
angry with me? And the little lad! Pass me by, but oh, be merciful to
him!"
A great silence followed this imploration. The man was waiting. For
hours he sat motionless; but just before dawn he must have heard
a word of strength or comfort, for he rose to his feet and bowed
his head. He was weeping bitterly, and his voice was like a sob; but
from that hut on the wild Skye coast there arose with a heartbroken
cry the sublimest of mortal prayers--"_Thy will be done._"
IV
THE DOOR WIDE OPEN
Resignation is not always contentment, and though Liot accepted
God's will in place of his own will, he took it rather with a dour
patience than with a cheerful satisfaction. Yet in a certain way
life gets made independent of our efforts. A higher power than our
own brings events about, finds a way across the hills of difficulty,
smooths out the rough places, and makes straight what our folly
has made crooked. When it became certain that Liot would make
his life-home near Uig the men on that coast began to treat him with
more friendliness, and the women pitied and cared a little for his
motherless boy. And by and by there came a new minister, who found
in Liot a man after his own heart. The two men became familiars,
and the friendship made life more supportable to both.
It was a hard existence, however, for the child. Liot loved his son,
but he was not a demonstrative father, and he thought more of doing
his duty to David than of showing him affection or providing him
with pleasure. For when all hopes of making him a minister were
over David lost something in Liot's estimation. He was, then, just
a common lad, in whose heart, as a matter of course, folly and
disobedience were bound up. It was his place to exorcise everything
like joy, and with the phantoms of a gloomy creed to darken and
terrify his childhood.
Before David had shed his baby teeth, hell and the devil were
tremendous realities to him. An immaculate, pitiless God, who
delighted in taking vengeance on his enemies, haunted all his
boyhood's dreams; and the "scheme of salvation," by which perchance
this implacable Deity might be conciliated, was the beginning and
the end of his education. With an amazing distinctness in question
and answer, this "scheme" was laid before him, and by the word
and the rod of admonition he was made famili
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