“In that you come to a different conclusion from that of the writer of this book,” observed Arrows; and he read aloud the following lines from Dr. Goulburn’s “Thoughts on Personal Religion,” the volume which he held in his hand: —
“‘One of the first properties of the bosom sin with which it behoves us to be well acquainted, as our first step in the management of our spiritual warfare, is its property of concealing itself. In consequence of this property, it often happens that a man, when touched in his weak point, answers that whatever other faults he may have, this fault, at least, is no part of his character.’”
The captain read the quotation so emphatically that Vibert again threw down his paper, and listened whilst Arrows thus went on: —
“‘This circumstance, then, may furnish us with a clue to the discovery: of whatever fault you feel that, if accused of it, you would be stung and nettled by the apparent injustice of the charge, suspect yourself of that fault, in that quarter very probably lies the black spot of the bosom sin. If the skin is in any part sensitive to pressure, there is probably mischief below the surface.’”
“I doubt that the author is right,” observed Bruce. “Besetting sins cannot hide themselves thus from those who honestly search their own hearts.”
“Perhaps some search all but the haunted chamber,” suggested Vibert. Captain Arrows smiled assent to the observation.
“By way of throwing light on the question,” said he, “suppose that each of you were to set down in writing what you suppose to be your besetting sin; and that I – who have watched your characters from your childhood – should also put down on paper what I believe to be the bosom temptation of each. Is it likely that your papers and mine would agree; that the same ‘black spot’ would be touched by your hands and mine; that we should point out the same identical fault as the one which most easily and frequently besets the soul of each of you three?”
“It would be curious to compare the two papers,” cried Vibert. “I wish, captain, that you really would write down what you think of us all. It would be like consulting a phrenological professor, without the need of having a stranger’s fingers reading off our characters from the bumps on our heads.”
“I am not speaking of the whole character, but of the one sin that most easily besets,” said the captain. “Would a close observer’s view of its nature agree with that held by the person within whose heart it might lurk?”
“Perhaps not,” said Bruce, after a pause for reflection. “But the person beset by the sin would know more about its existence than the most acute observer, who could judge but by outward signs.”
“That is the very point on which we differ,” remarked Captain Arrows. “The property of the bosom sin is to conceal itself, but only from him to whom the knowledge of its presence would be of the highest importance. I should be half afraid,” the captain added with a smile, “to tell even my nephews and niece what I thought the besetting sin of each, lest they should be ‘stung and nettled by the apparent injustice of the charge,’ and feel, though they might not say it aloud, that ‘whatever other faults they may have, this fault, at least, forms no part of the character in question.’”
The captain’s hearers looked surprised at his words. Vibert burst out laughing. “You must think us a desperately bad lot!” cried he.
“Uncle, I wish that you would write down what you think is the besetting sin of each of us,” said Emmie, “and give the little paper quietly to the person whom it concerns, not, of course, to be read by any one else. I am sure that I would not be offended by anything you would write, and it might do me good to know what you believe to be my greatest temptation.”
“As you are going away to-morrow, you would escape the rage and fury of the indignant Emmie, however ‘stung and nettled’ she might be!” laughed Vibert Trevor. “Now, Bruce,” added the youth sarcastically, “would you not like the captain to inform you confidentially what he considers the tiny ‘black spot’ in your almost perfect character?”
“I have no objection to my uncle’s writing down what he chooses,” replied Bruce coldly. “All that I keep to is this, – neither he nor any other man living can tell me a fact regarding my own character which I have not known perfectly well before.”
“Were I to agree to write down my impressions, it would be to induce you all to give the subject serious reflection,” observed the captain. “It matters little whether I am or am not correct in my conclusions; but it is of great importance that no one should be deceived regarding himself. I wish to lead you to think.”
“Oh, I’ll not engage to do that! I hate thinking; it’s a bore!” cried Vibert gaily. “I know I’m a thoughtless dog, – ah, I’ve hit the ‘black spot’ quite unawares! Thoughtlessness is my besetting sin!”
“My difficulty would be to single out one amongst my many faults,” said Emmie.
“Now that is humbug; you know that it is!” exclaimed her youngest brother. “You have no fault at all, except the fault of being a great deal too good. I should like you better if you were as lively and larky as Alice!”
“Saucy boy!” said Emmie, and she smiled.
“But, captain,” continued Vibert, addressing himself to his uncle, “though we are willing enough to read what you write, we won’t be driven to anything in the shape of confession. You may tell us what is your notion of what lurks in our haunted rooms, but we won’t invite you in and say, ‘Behold there’s my besetting sin!’”
“I want no confessions,” said Captain Arrows. “I repeat that my only object is to induce you to pull down your brickwork, draw back your curtains, and search for yourselves; or, to drop metaphor and speak in plain words, to lead you to make the discovery of the weakest point in your respective characters the subject of candid investigation and serious thought.”
And to a certain degree this desired result was obtained. Though Vibert laughed, and Bruce looked indifferent, to their minds, as well as to that of their sister, the subject of self-knowledge recurred at different parts of the evening.
“I don’t suppose that the captain can look further through a mill-stone than can any one else,” thought Vibert; “yet he has uncommonly sharp eyes, and is always on the watch. No doubt he learned that habit at sea. I am glad that he can detect some fault in Master Bruce, who is a kind of pope in our house, though I, for one, don’t believe in his infallibility. I wonder on what my uncle will fix as the bad spirit in my haunted room. I should say – let me think – I have never thought about the matter before. Well, I don’t take to religion as earnestly as do papa and my elder brother and sister. I don’t go twice to church on Sundays, nor – if the truth must be owned – do I pay much attention to the service whilst I am there. I’d rather any day read a novel than a serious book. I believe that’s the worst I can say of myself. The captain would call that – let me see – would he call that irreligion? No, no; that name is too hard. I’m thoughtless, I own, but certainly not irreligious. Impiety? Why, that is worse still! I do not pretend to be in the least pious, but still I’d be ready to knock down any fellow who called me the reverse. I’m something between the two poles. Levity? Ah, that’s the word, the precise word to describe my besetting sin, if one can call mere levity a sin. I am no man’s enemy but my own; and not my own enemy either, for I spare and indulge myself in every way that I can. Levity may be a fault at sixty, but it’s no fault at all at sixteen. I should decidedly object to be as sober as Bruce. He goes on his way like a steady old coach, while I am like a bicycle,” – Vibert laughed to himself as the simile occurred to his fancy. “A bicycle is quick, light, not made to carry much luggage, and a little given to coming to smash! Yes, I skim the world like a bicycle, and levity is my worst fault!” Yawning after the unusual effort of even such cursory self-examination, Vibert now set his thoughts free to ramble in any direction, satisfied that nothing of a serious nature could be laid to his charge.
“It is strange that my uncle should imagine that he can penetrate the recesses of the heart of another,”