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'Father； this woman is in thy hands。 Take thou care of her； as thou
hast taken care of her hitherto。 Let the light go up in her soul；
that she may love and trust thee； O light； O gladness。 I thank thee
that thou hast blessed me with this ministration。 Now lead me to my
father。 Thine is the kingdom； and the power； and the glory； for
ever and ever。 Amen。'
He rose and went to his grandmother and told her all。 She put her
arms round his neck； and kissed him； and said；
'God bless ye； my bonny lad。 And he will bless ye。 He will； he
will。 Noo gang yer wa's； and do the wark he gies ye to do。 Only
min'； it's no you； it's him。'
The next morning； the sweet winds of his childhood wooing him to
remain yet a day among their fields； he sat on the top of the
Aberdeen coach； on his way back to the horrors of court and alley in
the terrible London。
CHAPTER VII。
THE SILK…WEAVER。
When he arrived he made it his first business to find 'Widow
Walker。' She was evidently one of the worst of her class； and could
it have been accomplished without scandal； and without interfering
with the quietness upon which he believed that the true effect of
his labours in a large measure depended； he would not have scrupled
simply to carry off the child。 With much difficulty； for the woman
was suspicious； he contrived to see her； and was at once reminded of
the child he had seen in the cart on the occasion of Shargar's
recognition of his mother。 He fancied he saw in her some
resemblance to his friend Shargar。 The affair ended in his paying
the woman a hundred and fifty pounds to give up the girl。 Within
six months she had drunk herself to death。 He took little Nancy
Kennedy home with him； and gave her in charge to his housekeeper。
She cried a good deal at first； and wanted to go back to Mother
Walker； but he had no great trouble with her after a time。 She
began to take a share in the house…work； and at length to wait upon
him。 Then Falconer began to see that he must cultivate relations
with other people in order to enlarge his means of helping the poor。
He nowise abandoned his conviction that whatever good he sought to
do or lent himself to aid must be effected entirely by individual
influence。 He had little faith in societies； regarding them chiefly
as a wretched substitute； just better than nothing； for that help
which the neighbour is to give to his neighbour。 Finding how the
unbelief of the best of the poor is occasioned by hopelessness in
privation； and the sufferings of those dear to them； he was
confident that only the personal communion of friendship could make
it possible for them to believe in God。 Christians must be in the
world as He was in the world； and in proportion as the truth
radiated from them； the world would be able to believe in Him。 Money
he saw to be worse than useless； except as a gracious outcome of
human feelings and brotherly love。 He always insisted that the
Saviour healed only those on whom his humanity had laid hold； that
he demanded faith of them in order to make them regard him； that so
his personal being might enter into their hearts。 Healing without
faith in its source would have done them harm instead of goodwould
have been to them a windfall； not a Godsend； at best the gift of
magic； even sometimes the power of Satan casting out Satan。 But he
must not therefore act as if he were the only one who could render
this individual aid； or as if men influencing the poor individually
could not aid each other in their individual labours。 He soon
found； I say； that there were things he could not do without help；
and Nancy was his first perplexity。 From this he was delivered in a
wonderful way。
One afternoon he was prowling about Spitalfields； where he had made
many acquaintances amongst the silk…weavers and their families。
Hearing a loud voice as he passed down a stair from the visit he
had been paying further up the house； he went into the room whence
the sound came； for he knew a little of the occupant。 He was one De
Fleuri； or as the neighbours called him； Diffleery； in whose
countenance； after generations of want and debasement； the delicate
lines and noble cast of his ancient race were yet emergent。 This
man had lost his wife and three children； his whole family except a
daughter now sick； by a slow…consuming hunger； and he did not
believe there was a God that ruled in the earth。 But he supported
his unbelief by no other argument than a hopeless bitter glance at
his empty loom。 At this moment he sat silenta rock against which
the noisy waves of a combative Bible…reader were breaking in rude
foam。 His silence and apparent impassiveness angered the irreverent
little worthy。 To Falconer's humour he looked a vulgar bull…terrier
barking at a noble； sad…faced staghound。 His foolish arguments
against infidelity； drawn from Paley's Natural Theology； and tracts
about the inspiration of the Bible； touched the sore…hearted
unbelief of the man no nearer than the clangour of negro kettles
affects the eclipse of the sun。 Falconer stood watching his
opportunity。 Nor was the eager disputant long in affording him one。
Socratic fashion； Falconer asked him a question； and was answered；
followed it with another； which； after a little hesitation； was
likewise answered； then asked a third； the ready answer to which
involved such a flagrant contradiction of the first； that the poor
sorrowful weaver burst into a laugh of delight at the discomfiture
of his tormentor。 After some stammering； and a confused attempt to
recover the line of argument； the would…be partizan of Deity roared
out； 'The fool hath said in his heart there is no God；' and with
this triumphant discharge of his swivel； turned and ran down the
stairs precipitately。
Both laughed while the sound of his footsteps lasted。 Then Falconer
said；
'My。 De Fleuri； I believe in God with all my heart； and soul； and
strength； and mind； though not in that poor creature's arguments。 I
don't know that your unbelief is not better than his faith。'
'I am greatly obliged to you； Mr。 Falconer。 I haven't laughed so
for years。 What right has he to come pestering me？'
'None whatever。 But you must forgive him； because he is
well…meaning； and because his conceit has made a fool of him。
They're not all like him。 But how is your daughter？'
'Very poorly； sir。 She's going after the rest。 A Spitalfields
weaver ought to be like the cats： they don't mind how many of their
kittens are drowned。'
'I beg your pardon。 They don't like it。 Only they forget it sooner
than we do。'
'Why do you say we； sir？ You don't know anything of that sort。'
'The heart knows its own bitterness； De Fleuriand finds it enough；
I dare say。'
The weaver was silent for a moment。 When he spoke again； there was
a touch of tenderness in his respect。
'Will you go and see my poor Katey； sir？'
'Would