Ivy Compton-Burnett: Elders and Betters

“I don’t see how we can appeal to the god to guide us, when our life is to be one long course of hypocrisy,” he said in a gloomy manner.

“The god will understand the trials of our lot,” said Dora. “And it is our duty to fulfil the needs of our father, in so far as it is in us. Chung would not have us fail there.”

“It seems that it would be better to have no parents at all, than only one.”

“We could not very well pray for that. It would prejudice the god against us, to feel that we would sacrifice a life to our own ends, and that life our father’s.”

“I suppose we had better take some sort of sacrifice,” said Julius, glancing about for a substitute for the one forbidden.

“These flowers for the graves will do. We should choose to put them in the schoolroom, so it is a proper sacrifice.”

They approached the rock, but drew back as it came in sight; for kneeling before it, surrendered to personal and audible supplication was their cousin, Reuben Donne.

“And protect me, O god, in my life alone with thy handmaids and my father. For the eyes of the latter rest in hostility upon me. Grant that Jenney may order my days, and that Terence, thy servant, may conduct my higher life, and that there may come no change in my father’s thoughts of me as a child. For I have not strength to sustain his equal companionship, being but a weak and halting servant in the walks of thy temple.”

Reuben broke off and rose as steps approached, but stood almost without discomfiture, and with the expression unchanged upon his face. His own feelings loomed too large for the encroachment of others.

Julius and Dora joined him; a look passed between the three; and they began to advance with a rhythmic movement, their limbs keeping time with each other’s, and their eyes fixed upon the rock. They knelt in formation, with their heads and hands swaying in unison, and as Dora’s tones rose, those of the others seconded it.

“Guard us, O god, in the dangers that loom before us.”

“We beseech thee to hear us, O god.”

“Grant that the similar trials that beset our paths, may be softened unto us.”

“We beseech thee to hear us, O god.”

“So dispose the hearts of our fathers, that their claims may not go beyond our powers. For great are their demands, and easy is the path and broad is the way that they have chosen.”

“We beseech thee to hear us, O god.”

“Turn thine eyes in mercy on the widow and the fatherless.”

“We beseech thee to hear us, O god.”

“The widower and the motherless are the same thing,” said Dora in rapid parenthesis, glancing round.

Julius raised his head and nodded, and bent it again to await the further petitions.

“Grant that our filial duty may not hinder the daily happiness, that is the due of the young, and that we have done nothing to forfeit.”

“We beseech thee to hear us, O god.”

“As we have not yet put away childish things, grant that real childhood may content our father, and that he may not require of us the strange — strange pretence of it—”

“Travesty,” supplied Reuben, in a rapid undertone.

“Strange travesty of it that his heart desires.”

“We beseech thee to hear us, O god.”

“Grant him a change of heart in this matter, and grant that Tullia, our sister and thy handmaid, may not deny him her companionship, so that the brunt of his needs may not fall on shoulders too young for the burden, sacred burden though it be.”

“We beseech thee to hear us, O god.”

Dora repeated the refrain with the others, in indication of the end of the prayer, and rose from her knees.

“Well, that covers the ground,” said Julius, as he followed her example. “There is no loophole anywhere. We can do no more.”

“Suppose we go and see if the rain has swelled the spring,” said Reuben, his embarrassment suddenly gathering and overwhelming him.

“I think that Dora and I had better be alone to-day,” said Julius, in a polite, firm tone. “It was well enough for our hearts to rise in accord on this one occasion. But it must not be repeated. And she and I have matters to discuss that do not admit of an outside ear.”

Reuben turned away.

“Well, that has disposed of him,” said Julius, in an emphatic and complacent manner.

Dora looked after the slighty dejected and slightly limping figure, and a picture took form on her mind, that was to remain to her dying day.

“Shall we make an exception this once?” she said.

“One moment of weakness, and a precedent is created. We must be strong enough to say, ‘No.’”

There was a pause.

“We do not grudge him the consolations of religion,” said Dora, in a tone that supported her brother. “And he is young enough for a separate faith. But things must go no further. He must know where to stop.”

“The hardest thing in the world to teach people,” said Julius, stamping his foot. “But I flatter myself that he has learned the lesson. The precincts of our temple cannot be polluted by his presence. Our temple is not his temple, nor our god his god.”