"Hush, Hughie; you must call people by their right names. Now let us have some singing. I hear Ranald is singing bass these days.""And bully good bass, too," cried Hughie. "John 'Aleck' says that it's the finest bass in the whole singing school.""Well, Hughie," said his mother, quietly, "I don't think it is necessary to shout even such pleasant information as that. Now go to your singing, and I shall listen."She lay back in the big chair, looking so pale and weary that Harry hardly believed it was the same woman that had just been keeping a hundred and fifty people keenly alert for an hour and a half, and leading them with such intellectual and emotional power.
"That class is too hard for you, auntie," he said. "If I were your husband I would not let you keep it on.""But you see my husband is not here. He is twelve miles away.""Then I would lock you up, or take you with me.""Oh!" cried Hughie, "I would much rather teach the Bible class than listen to another sermon.""Something in that," said his cousin, "especially if I were the preacher, eh?" at which they all laughed.
It was a happy hour for Ranald. He had been too shy to join the singing school, and had never heard any part singing till he began to attend the Bible class. There he made the delightful discovery that, without any instruction, he could join in the bass, and had made, also, the further discovery that his voice, which he had thought rough and coarse, and for a year past, worse than ever, could reach to extraordinary depths. One Sabbath evening, it chanced that John "Aleck," who always had an ear open for a good voice, heard him rolling out his deep bass, and seizing him on the spot, had made him promise to join the singing school. There he discovered a talent and developed a taste for singing that delighted his leader's heart, and opened out to himself a new world. The piano, too, was a new and rare treat to Ranald. In all the country there was no other, and even in the manse it was seldom heard, for Mrs. Murray found little time, amid the multitude of household and congregational duties, to keep up her piano practice.
That part of her life, with others of like kind, she had been forced to lose.
But since Maimie's coming, the piano had been in daily use, and even on the Sabbath days, though not without danger to the sensibilities of the neighbors, she had used it to accompany the hymns with which the day always closed.
"Let us have the parts," cried Hughie. "Maimie and I will take the air, and Ranald will take the bass. Cousin Harry, can you sing?""Oh, I'll hum."
"Nonsense," said Maimie, "he sings tenor splendidly.""Oh, that's fine!" cried Hughie, with delight. He himself was full of music. "Come on, Ranald, you stand up behind Maimie, you will need to see the notes; and I will sit here," planting himself beside his mother.
So Hughie arranged it all, and for an hour the singing went on, the favorite hymns of each being sung in turn. For the most part, Mrs.
Murray sat silent, but now and then she would join with the others, singing alto when she did so, by Hughie's special direction. Her voice was not strong, but it was true, mellow, and full of music.
Hughie loved to hear her sing alto, and more especially because he liked to join in with her, which he was too shy to do alone, even in his home, and which he would never think of doing in the Bible class, or in the presence of any of the boys who might, for this reason, think him "proud." When they came to Hughie's turn, he chose the hymn by Bliss, recently published, "Whosoever will," the words seem to strike him tonight.
"Mother," he said, after singing it through, "does that mean everybody that likes?""Yes, my dear, any one that wishes."
"Pharaoh, mother?"
"Yes, Pharaoh, too."
"But, mother, you said he could not possibly.""Only because he did not want to."
"But he could not, even if he did want to."
"I hope I did not say that," said his mother, smiling at the eager and earnest young face.
"No, auntie," said Harry, taking up Hughie's cause, "not exactly, but something very like it. You said that Pharaoh could not possibly have acted in any other way than he did.""Yes, I said that."
"Not even if he wanted to?" asked Hughie.
"Oh, I did not say that."
"The Lord hardened Pharaoh's heart," quoted Ranald, who knew his Bible better than Harry.
"Yes, that is it," said Harry, "and so that made it impossible for Pharaoh to do anything else. He could not help following after those people.""Why not?" said Mrs. Murray. "What made him follow? Now just think, what made him follow after those people?""Why, he wanted to get them back," said Hughie.
"Quite true," said his mother. "So you see, he did exactly as he wanted to.""Then you mean the Lord had nothing to do with it?" asked Ranald.
"No, I could not say that."
"Then," said Harry, "Pharaoh could not help himself. Now, could he?""He did what he wished to do," said his aunt.
"Yes," said Ranald, quickly, "but could he help wishing to do what he did?""If he had been a different man, more humble minded, and more willing to be taught, he would not have wished to do what he did.""Mother," said Hughie, changing his ground a little, and lowering his voice, "do you think Pharaoh is lost, and all his soldiers, and--and all the people who were bad?"Mrs. Murray looked at him in silence for a few moments, then said, very sadly, "I can't answer that question, Hughie. I do not know.""But, mother," persisted Hughie, "are not wicked people lost?""Yes, Hughie," replied his mother, "all those who do not repent of their sins and cry to God for mercy.""Oh, mother," cried Hughie, "forever?"
His mother did not reply.
"Will He never let them out, mother?" continued Hughie, in piteous appeal.
