“Consent!” thundered Dowley, in a tone so loud that the cottage rang again, and the astonished children shrank closer to each other in fear. “Do you think that I ever would consent to _your_ going _there_?”
Here was a blow so sudden, so unexpected, that it almost took away Mark’s breath. Recovering himself soon, however, he began, “I should be able to maintain myself, perhaps even to assist—”
“Don’t say one word more, or—” John uttered a horrible oath, but left his hearers to imagine, from his clenched hand and savage look, what was the threat which he intended should follow.
“At least,” said Mark, in an agitated voice, “allow me to return and tell Mr. Searle that you forbid me to go with him. He would think me so ungrateful—”
“Oh, is it not enough,” cried Mark, in bitterness of spirit, “that my way is barred, that my hopes are ruined—” he could not speak on, his heart was too full.
“If he isn’t going to cry!” whispered Jack.
“A pretty pilgrim, to be so soft!” murmured Ben.
These mocking words roused the spirit of the persecuted boy, but it was rather an earthly spirit of indignation than a spirit of endurance for the Lord’s sake.
“Let him go,” said Anne, “and tell the gentleman that he can’t serve him; he can just say that you’ve found something better for him.”
“Yes, I will,” replied the boy, with difficulty restraining his tears at even so slight a mark of kindness. John gave ungracious permission rather by silence than words, and Mark left the cottage almost choking with his feelings.
It was a little time before he could regain sufficient composure even to look his difficulties in the face. Oh, it is hard to go down into the deep Valley of Humiliation, and few are those called upon suddenly to descend from their high hopes but meet with some slips by the way!
Mark was tempted, and this was a grievous temptation, to doubt even God’s goodness and mercy towards him. Why was he placed in a situation so painful, why suddenly plunged back into that furnace of trial from which he had so lately been snatched? It seemed to Mark as if the Almighty had forsaken him, as if God had forgotten to be gracious, and had left a poor mortal to be tempted beyond what he could bear!
The pilgrims to heaven must expect on their way thither to meet sometimes with trials like this. The Evil One whom they served in the days of their ignorance will not suffer a victim to escape him, without making efforts—strong and subtle efforts too—to draw back the ransomed soul to his service. He put rebellious thoughts into the mind of Mark, like so many fiery darts, to make him chafe with an impatient and despairing spirit, under the difficulty of obeying the fifth commandment; and which of us dare say that in such an inward struggle we should have stood our ground better than he?