This way is easiest and best...."




VIII

CAIN'S ATONEMENT


So many thousands to-day have deliberately put Self aside, and are
ready to yield their lives for an ideal, that it is not surprising a
few of them should have registered experiences of a novel order. For
to step aside from Self is to enter a larger world, to be open to new
impressions. If Powers of Good exist in the universe at all, they can
hardly be inactive at the present time.... The case of two men, who may be called Jones and Smith, occurs to the
mind in this connection. Whether a veil actually was lifted for a
moment, or whether the tension of long and terrible months resulted in
an exaltation of emotion, the experience claims significance. Smith,
to whom the experience came, holds the firm belief that it was real. Jones, though it involved him too, remained unaware. It is a somewhat personal story, their peculiar relationship dating
from early youth: a kind of unwilling antipathy was born between them,
yet an antipathy that had no touch of hate or even of dislike. It was
rather in the nature of an instinctive rivalry. Some tie operated that
flung them ever into the same arena with strange persistence, and ever
as opponents. An inevitable fate delighted to throw them together in a
sense that made them rivals; small as well as large affairs betrayed
this malicious tendency of the gods. It showed itself in earliest
days, at school, at Cambridge, in travel, even in house-parties
and the lighter social intercourse. Though distant cousins, their
families were not intimate, and there was no obvious reason why their
paths should fall so persistently together. Yet their paths did so,
crossing and recrossing in the way described. Sooner or later, in
all his undertakings, Smith would note the shadow of Jones darkening
the ground in front of him; and later, when called to the Bar in his
chosen profession, he found most frequently that the learned counsel
in opposition to him was the owner of this shadow, Jones. In another
matter, too, they became rivals, for the same girl, oddly enough,
attracted both, and though she accepted neither offer of marriage
(during Smith's lifetime! ), the attitude between them was that of
unwilling rivals. For they were friends as well. Jones, it appears, was hardly aware that any rivalry existed; he did
not think of Smith as an opponent, and as an adversary, never. He did
notice, however, the constantly recurring meetings, for more than once
he commented on them with good-humoured amusement. Smith, on the other
hand, was conscious of a depth and strength in the tie that certainly
intrigued him; being of a thoughtful, introspective nature, he was
keenly sensible of the strange competition in their lives, and sought
in various ways for its explanation, though without success. The desire
to find out was very strong in him. And this was natural enough, owing
to the singular fact that in all their battles he was the one to lose. Invariably Jones got the best of every conflict. Smith always paid;
sometimes he paid with interest. Occasionally, too, he seemed forced to injure himself while
contributing to his cousin's success. It was very curious. He reflected
much upon it; he wondered what the origin of their tie and rivalry
might be, but especially why it was that he invariably lost, and why
he was so often obliged to help his rival to the point even of his own
detriment. Tempted to bitterness sometimes, he did not yield to it,
however; the relationship remained frank and pleasant; if anything, it
deepened. He remembered once, for instance, giving his cousin a chance
introduction which yet led, a little later, to the third party offering
certain evidence which lost him an important case--Jones, of course,
winning it. The third party, too, angry at being dragged into the case,
turned hostile to him, thwarting various subsequent projects. In no
other way could Jones have procured this particular evidence; he did
not know of its existence even. That chance introduction did it all. There was nothing the least dishonourable on the part of Jones--it
was just the chance of the dice. The dice were always loaded against
Smith--and there were other instances of similar kind. About this time, moreover, a singular feeling that had lain vaguely
in his mind for some years past, took more definite form. It suddenly
assumed the character of a conviction, that yet had no evidence to
support it. A voice, long whispering in the depths of him, became
much louder, grew into a statement that he accepted without further
ado: "I'm paying off a debt," he phrased it, "an old, old debt is
being discharged. I owe him this--my help and so forth." He accepted
it, that is, as just; and this certainty of justice kept sweet his
heart and mind, shutting the door on bitterness or envy. The thought,
however, though it recurred persistently with each encounter, brought
no explanation. When the war broke out both offered their services; as members of the
O.T.C., they got commissions quickly; but it was a chance remark of
Smith's that made his friend join the very regiment he himself was in. They trained together, were in the same retreats and the same advances
together. Their friendship deepened. Under the stress of circumstances
the tie did not dissolve, but strengthened. It was indubitably real,
therefore. Then, oddly enough, they were both wounded in the same
engagement. And it was here the remarkable fate that jointly haunted them betrayed
itself more clearly than in any previous incident of their long
relationship--Smith was wounded in the act of protecting his cousin. How it happened is confusing to a layman, but each apparently was
leading a bombing-party, and the two parties came together. They found
themselves shoulder to shoulder, both brimmed with that pluck which
is complete indifference to Self; they exchanged a word of excited
greeting; and the same second one of those rare opportunities of
advantage presented itself which only the highest courage could make
use of. Neither, certainly, was thinking of personal reward; it was
merely that each saw the chance by which instant heroism might gain a
surprise advantage for their side. The risk was heavy, but there _was_
a chance; and success would mean a decisive result, to say nothing of
high distinction for the man who obtained it--if he survived. Smith,
being a few yards ahead of his cousin, had the moment in his grasp. He was in the act of dashing forward when something made him pause. A bomb in mid-air, flung from the opposing trench, was falling; it
seemed immediately above him; he saw that it would just miss himself,
but land full upon his cousin--whose head was turned the other way. By
stretching out his hand, Smith knew he could field it like a cricket
ball. There was an interval of a second and a half, he judged. He
hesitated--perhaps a quarter of a second--then he acted. He caught it. It was the obvious thing to do.