An Unwilling Guest (23 page)

When the sermon began the "dim religious light" of the sanctuary in such harmonious accord with her ideas of all things holy, proved its restful power by putting her almost
to sleep. The sweet, well-modu
lated tones of the preacher rather lulled her spirit to repose. She found to her distress that little by little the pulpit seemed to be moving slowly away from her and a delicious sense of
losing consciousness was steal
ing through her being. She roused herself as best she could but still that droning kept going in her ears, and the desire to
droop
came over her eyelids, and she was glad indeed when the organ sounded forth again in the closing hymn.

As they walked home together al
ong Fifth Avenue Richard Ruther
ford, who was by Allison's side asked:

"How did you like the sermon?"

Allison was slightly embarrassed. "It was sweet and—and all that he said was true," she began, then looking up into his laughing eyes she colored slightly: "I'm afraid I did not hear it closely, Mr. Rutherford. The truth was, the quiet place made me intolerably sleepy. I am ashamed, and I am afraid I did not get much help for the week out of it."

"Is that the way you judge of a se
rmon, Miss Grey, by its helpful
ness to you?"

"Why, yes, don't you?" she asked innocently, looking at him.

"Indeed, I fear I never have thought of a sermon in that light with regard to myself at all," he said gravely.

Allison could not quite make up her mind what he meant by that, so she asked a question: "Why don't the people sing? I thought the first must be a new tune, but the second and third were no better. Half of
them were not trying, some not even looking at their books."

"Why should they?" he asked in an amused tone. "They pay a good salary to the four individuals up in the choir loft to do it for them. Most of them feel that the exertion would be too much, and many that the professional singers can make better music, in which latter fact I suppose they are correct
.
The majority of people are very poor singers when you come down to it"

Allison opened her great blue eyes wide in surprise.

"But praising is a part of worship," she said. "I thought a choir was to lead the people. To hire one's praise would be doing as the heathen do when they pay the priest for saying prayers for them."

"Indeed! It hadn't appeared to me in that light before, but now you speak of it there is a sort of similarity between them. By the way, Miss Grey, you have a way of bringing out startling contrasts, just as your brother does. He has made me feel anything but comfortable a number of times. However, as I am not a member of that congregation I cannot be supposed to be hit this time; but, upon my word, it seems to me that it would be much better to have the praising business done up by someone who knew how than to have the church filled with discord."

"Do you know
Browning's
‘
The Boy and the Angel?
’
'" answered Allison thoughtfully. "Do you remember how when
Theocrite
left off singing 'Praise God' at evening, morning, noon, and night, and went to be the pope in Rome, while the angel Gabriel came and took his place, working at his trade and singing as
Theocrite
had done:

God said, 'A praise is in mine ear;

There is no doubt in it, no fear

'So sing old worlds, and so

New worlds that from my footstool go.

'Clearer loves sound other ways;

I miss my little human praise.'

And when Gabriel came and sent
Theocrite
back to his cell, he told him that when his
weak voice of praise stopped in
that cell, 'Creation's chorus stopped.'"

He watched her understandingly, his eyes showing his appreciation as she spoke.

"Yes, I remember," he said, "and your point is well taken; but after all that is merely a fancy of Mr. Robert
Browning's
. You don't really suppose that God prefers to have Mr. Brown and
Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Schuyler and Miss Morrison, who can't sing a note except out of tune, praise him in church in preference to those four wonderfully trained voices, do you?"

"Certainly I do," said Allison earnestly. "Of course I did not mean that Mr. Browning was an authority on the subject. I merely used that as an illustration. I think there are plenty of examples in the highest authority of all, the Bible, to prove the theory is true. For instance take this: 'It came even to pass, as the trumpeters and singers were as one, to make sound to be heard in praising and thanking the Lord; and when they lifted up their voice with the
trumpets and cymbals and instru
ments of music, and praised the Lord, saying. For he is good; for his mercy
endureth
forever: that then the house was filled with a cloud, even the house of the Lord; so that the
priests could not stand to min
ister by reason of the cloud: for the glory of the Lord had filled the house of God.'"

The young man looked at his companion in astonishment

"Look here," he said half laughing, "do you manufacture verses to fit the occasion? I'm sure I never heard any such verse in the Bible, though that might easily be. But you must be very familiar with that book to quote so readily. That certainly sounds as if it was made to order. If that is to be found in the Bible I'll have to give up my point
.
Do you mean to say that the sermon would have been better if the people had all sung?"

"Possibly," said Allison gravely, "at least we might have felt the presence of the glory of the Lor
d. But the verse is certainly in
the Bible," she added, half-laughingly,
"though I cannot claim to be al
ways so ready with a quotation. It ju
st happens that we had this sub
ject for one of our young people's meetings not long ago, and I have studied it quite recently. That verse seemed so unusual that I put it away in my memory."

The others came up then and they all passed into the house.

"She is a bright little thing an
d knows what she is about," com
mented the young man to himself afterward, "and she seems to have a wide range of knowledge. It isn't all confined to the Bible either. How beautifully she recited The Boy and the Angel,' and how quick she was to bring in that Bible verse. It was a unique application! I shall enjoy her."

E
velyn lay down in the afternoon and supposed that her guest was doing the same. Each would have been surprised could she have known that the other was studying t
he Bible. Evelyn had not yet re
turned the Bible her brother had loaned her and had it half concealed under her pillow ready to
put it out of sight in case any
one knocked at the door. She wanted to see if she could anywhere find rest for her poor, weary soul. The service that morning had only reminded her of the service she had attended some months before, and she had been unable to fix her thoughts on the sermon if perchance there had been some crumb of comfort for her in it. She lay there on her bed turning the leaves in bewilderment, catching a word here and there, now and then lingering over a phrase that sounded promising, but yet not knowing how to go about the reading of so great a book. To begin at the beginning and read it through was a task she could not wait for. She tried it for a few minutes, but just now she seemed too heartsick to care how the world was formed and light and man and sin came. She did not know where to turn to find the great Physician to heal the sin-sick soul. She had gotten a little more than half through the book in a desultory way when her brother knocked on the door.

"Evelyn," he said, in what he endeavored to make an indifferent tone of voice, "if you are through with that Bible of mine I will take it; I want to look up a point."

After the book was gone she lay back on the pillow, letting the sad tears trickle down her cheeks, and felt miserable, she knew not why. Her life seemed all black before her, an
d yet it was not changed in out
ward appearance one whit from what it had been a year ago when she had thought herself as happy as any mortal living.

In the next room sat Allison with her Bible. She did not attempt to conceal from herself that she was homesick at this hour. She was not used to Sunday afternoon naps. Her boys were gathering now. She brought each chair and its occupant before her as her classroom filled, and she went over the lesson she had begun to study when Evelyn's invitation had arrived. There were things in that lesson that seemed just fitted for Bert and Fred and a few others. How she would enjoy being there to teach it! Why was it that when one loved a work so much she must be torn away from it and sent to another place which was not congenial? True, she was having a good time in many ways, but of what use was it going to be to her? Would it not rather tend to make her own life less near to God, all this excitement and sightseeing and worldliness about her? Well, it was strange, but she must not question God's way for her. A little printed slip fell out from the leaves of her Bible. Her mother had placed it there last Sunday night as she took her Bible upstairs and had written on one corner "Dear child," and it read:

God's plans for thee are graciously unfolding,

And leaf by leaf they blossom perfectly,

As yon fair rose, from its soft unfolding,

In marvelous beauty opens fragrantly.

Allison studied the lines a few minutes with a gentle longing in her face which in her heart meant she would try to be what she knew her mother yearned to have her be. Then she resolutely put aside all thoughts of her class. It would not do. She must turn them to God and try to do what he would have her do here. She turned to the topic for the young people's meeting and began studying that, and then growing restless as one or two hymns occurred to her that would certainly be sung at the home meeting that evening because they fitted so perfectly with the central thought of the subject, she stole softly into the hall and down to the music room.

There was no one there as she had supposed. It was growing dusky in the room. The heavy draperies of the hall door made deep shadows and the open fire played fantastically with the gathering twilight over the keys of the piano.

Allison sat down at the piano and h
er fingers touched the keys lov
ingly. She did not need the light to show her the chords,—her hands knew where to find them. She was no skilled musician, and she knew it; but there were dear old tunes by t
he hundred stored up in her mem
ory and her fingers could unlock and bring them forth in sweet melody from the instrument at will. Neither did she need the music usually to guide h
er. Softly she played, lest anyone should hear her and be dis
turbed, songs she loved, touching the tender melodies, or triumphant strains. One after another they followed, flowing into their key over the soft chords, and as she grew more used to being there alone she let her voice join in softly and the words came distinctly in the quiet room.

"My God, is any hour so sweet,

From blush of morn to evening star,

As that which calls me to thy feet—

The hour of prayer?

"Then is my strength by
thee
renewed;

Then are my sins by thee forgiven;

Then dost thou cheer my solitude,

With hopes of heaven.

"No words can tell what sweet relief

Here for my every want I find:

What strength for warfare, balm for grief,

What peace of mind!

"Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear,

My spirit seems in heaven to stay;

And even the penitential tear

Is wiped away.

"Lord, till I reach yon blissful shore,

No privilege so dear shall be,

And thus my inmost soul to pour

In prayer to thee."

Before Allison had half finished this hymn she becam
e aware of the presence of some
one else near-by, she could not tell if in the room or only in the hall. She had seen the faint light from the hall gas flicker
out some minutes before. It could be only the butler or Marie. It might be that her little song would drop a seed of good into a listening heart. It could do no harm; she would not stop. But as she came to th
e last verse she felt that some
one stood in
the
doorway by the heavy cur
tains. It startled her and made her voice quiver slightly, for she had been feeling the words as she spoke them, and it ha
d been in
reality, as in form, a prayer. It was not quite pl
easant to be thus made self-con
scious again, but she turned on the stool with the last sound and saw Richard Rutherford standing with bowed head listening.

"May I come in
?" he said gravely. "I could not resist the sound; it was very sweet. Go on, won't you, and let me sit here and listen."

"Oh, no, I couldn't!" said Allison quickly. "I am not a singer, and I was only taking myself back to our meeting for a little while."

"Do they all sing like that there? T
hen it must be a wonderful meet
ing and I do not wonder you spoke as you did this morning. Please go on. Take me to your meeting too, a little while, won't you? I have never been and I should enjoy it. My sister told me of one she attended at
Hillcroft
once. Now you certainly must go on or you will drive me back again to my room and I do want to hear another song. You will not refuse, will you?"

Allison had been brought up to acce
de to requests if possible with
out making a fuss, and so, though she would rather have done almost anything than sing her poor little songs before this city gentleman, she turned back to the piano. After a few gentle chords, she gathered courage from the sound and went on, her voice low and sweet
and tender, but every word clea
r
cut and distinct, in Whittier's matchless hymn:

"We may not climb the heavenly steeps

To bring the Lord Christ down;

In vain we search the lowest deeps,

For him no depths can drown.

"But warm, sweet, tender, even yet

A present h
elp is he;

And faith has still its Olivet,

And love its Galilee.

"The healing of the seamless dress

Is by our beds of pain;

We touch him
in
life's throng and press,

And we are whole again.

"O Lord and Master of us all,

Whate'er
our name or sign,

We own thy sway, we hear thy call,

We test our lives by
thine
."

She touched more soft chords trying to think of another song. The music had somehow reached her soul and made her willing to go on, since he seemed to wish it. Perhaps he n
eeded a song as well as the but
ler. Might she be the humble instrument through which it should come?

Suddenly he interrupted her. "You sing th
ose words as if you meant every
one from the bottom of your soul," he said curiously.

"Why, I do!" she answered, facing about toward the couch where he sat gazing into the fire. "Of course I do. I could not live if I did not believe and mean it all."

"It must be a wonderful thing to be able to believe all that.
I have thought so for a long tim
e. I would give a great deal if I did."

He spoke with so much earnestness that Allison was almost startled. She recognized at once that here was no trifler. The instinct for souls was keen in her. It was as if one of her rough boys sat before her, and she forgot her fear and awe of the city young man,

"There is a way," she said softly.

He looked up quickly. "What do you mean?"

"There is a way to test it, to make yourself sure. God has given a way. But it is so very simple that there are many like
Naaman
who will not even put it to the test."

"What is it?" he said half-wistfully. "I'm afraid I don't know enough about
Naaman
to know what kind of a fool you are comparing me to."

"Why,
Naaman
was a leper who was told to wash seven times in the Jordan and he would be made whole, and he was so angry that there had not been some hard thing given him to do that he started back home again without even trying it until one of his servants urged that it would do no harm to make the test"

"I see. He was a fool, of course. He got well, I remember now. But what is it you would have me do?"

" 'If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself,'" quoted Allison solemnly, and then after a moment's pause:" 'And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.'"

"And you mean that I am to go about doing the will of God just as if I were sure of it all?"

"Yes," Allison breathed softly, "and the promise will not fail."

He looked at her earnestly and steadily and said not a word. No more words came to her. She turned back to the piano and began softly playing again, and presently sang:

'Father! in
thy mysterious presence kneeling,

Fain would our hearts feel all thy kindling love;

For we are weak, and need some deep revealing

Of trust and strength and calmness from above."

Evelyn was heard coming down the stairs, then, and in a moment more she spoke by the door of the drawing room which opened from the music room:

"Why, papa! Is this you sitting here in the dark? Don't you want me to ring for John to light the gas?"

The occupants of the music room wondered how long he had been sitting there in the dark.

"No, daughter. Sit down here. I have been listening to some sweet singing. Listen."

But Allison in sudden panic stopped playing and left the piano stool altogether.

"Oh, I am afraid I have broken the spell!" said Evelyn coming in. "But let us all sing something now. Father will like that, I am sure."

They sang a little while, but Richard suddenly stopped them by looking at his watch.

"Evelyn, isn't it about tim
e we had some lunch? I have a mind to ask you and Miss Grey to go with me to he
ar another kind of preaching to
night, if you both care to do so. I'll warrant you one thing, you will not go to sleep, for I have heard him," and he named a preacher whose
fame had reached
Hillcroft
long ago and whom Allison had often longed to hear.

It was something new for that family to attend church twice on Sunday. Mr. Rutherford joined them once more. It seemed to him pleasant, this little family life that had been springing up in his lonely household lately. Evelyn was growing more like her mother, or was it like his own mother, whom he could dimly remember, whose life had left its impress upon him, even though she left the earth when he was but a lad? He sat listening critically and with interest to the preacher.