Joseph Hocking - The Man Who Rose Again

"Yes," she replied.

He lifted her hand reverently to his lips and kissed it. He longed to take her in his arms, and to tell her of his heart's joy; he longed to kiss her lips, and tell her that he would give his whole life to make himself worthy of her trust. But something sealed his lips. What was it?

Is there, humanly speaking, a diviner power on earth than the love of a pure, womanly woman? Is there anything that can make a bad man ashamed of his badness, or lead a purposeless man to devote his life to some great and worthy cause, so really and truly as the love of a woman whom he knows to be worthy of the name of woman? If there is, I do not know of it. If the old, old story that sin came upon the race by a woman is true, it is more true that good women are God's greatest means of purifying the world of its sin. Radford Leicester had not been a good man. If he had not fallen as low as some, it was because of innate pride, and because his nature abhorred some of the grosser and coarser forms of sin. He had not been filled with high purposes, he had lived wholly for self; but as he kissed Olive's hand, such a contrition, such a shame as he had never known before, came into his heart. Proud man as he was, he found himself saying what he would have laughed to scorn a few months before.

"Thank you, Olive," he said, still holding her hand, "you have given me a new life to live." He hesitated a moment, and then went on speaking again. "I want to tell you this," he said. "Although I am unworthy of you, I will try and make myself worthy. That promise I made yesterday I will keep. Yes, I will keep it. And – and if there is a God, I will find Him."

He spoke the words reverently. There was not a touch of the cynic in his voice; it was even as he felt. God had used this woman to lead him the first step towards his salvation.

"You have no doubt, no fear, Olive?" he said.

"No," she said quietly, "not one. I believe you, I trust you implicitly."

"And you love me?"

"Yes," she said.

"Really and truly. You know what I mean?" He spoke quietly and slowly, but his voice trembled.

"How could I say what I have said – else?" There was a sob in her voice as she spoke, and yet the sob sounded like a laugh.

"Thank God!"

He did not believe, this man, that God existed, and yet it was the only way that he could express the great joy of his heart. Never, until then, had he known what happiness meant. The old, hopeless, purposeless past was forgotten; that night his history began anew.

After dinner that night, John Castlemaine and Radford Leicester talked long and earnestly. It was no light matter to the father to promise his child in marriage; moreover, although he admired Leicester, and while he believed that a great career was possible to him, he did not feel quite happy. For John Castlemaine belonged to the old school of thought, and he had no sympathy with the modern looseness of ideas. He came of a stock who for more than a hundred years had fought the battle of religious liberty, and who had been ready to sacrifice their goods, even their lives, for principle. He was a Puritan of the best order. He retained all their old strong characteristics, he stood for their noblest ideals, without adhering to much that was sunless and repugnant. He was a happy, genial man, kind almost to indulgence as far as his daughter went, but he was strong in his hatred of the so-called morals of that class to which Leicester was supposed to belong. Moreover, Olive was his only child. Upon her he had poured the wealth of his affection, and thus the thought of giving her to a man was no light matter. Could he then give her to Leicester? It was a hard struggle; but in the end Leicester won. He spoke to John Castlemaine freely and frankly, and he spoke with such fervour, such strength of purpose, that in spite of all he had heard, John Castlemaine was convinced of the other's worthiness.

"But not yet, not yet," said the older man. "I cannot bear to lose her yet."

"But why need we wait?" asked Leicester. "We are neither of us children, and I need her, Mr. Castlemaine. She is all the world to me."

"I say 'not yet,' because without her I shall be alone. Fancy me living in this great house without Olive. It will become like a vault, an empty vault, and I do not know how I can bear it."

"I am free to live where you like," said the young man. "I will build a house close by here if it is your will, or I will buy one. I saw one for sale on my way here."

"Then why not live here?" asked John Castlemaine. The thought of having his son-in-law always near him was pleasant.

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