An Unwilling Guest (24 page)

Allison's face was full of eagerness. Her eyes shone with enthusiasm and her cheeks glowed. The young man by her side could not help watching her as well as he could by an occasional sidelong glance. It
was something new to have some
one about who took everything in this fresh, fervent way. He could see that this preacher did not put her to sleep, and that she would have a very different adjective from the morning ones with which to express her approval.

In glancing at Allison he caught a gli
mpse of his sister's profile be
yond. He was suddenly struck by the grave sadness that it expressed and wondered what it meant. Was she too stirred by the same Jesus who was speaking to his heart? And if so, what had been the moving influence? This girl by his side? Very likely. What straightforward trust seemed to be hers! How quickly she h
ad been able to give a plain di
rection, and it was simple enough too, he supposed, if one could but make up the mind to try it. Then he gave his attention to the sermon which was aglow with eloquence and earnestness.

Evelyn's sad eyes had been fixed on the preacher and she had been listening in a half-hearted way, thinking much of the time of her own unhappiness. All at once the speaker caught her attention. His voice had changed to a tender pathos. He
was reciting a poem, she discov
ered, and these were the words that came to her ear, though she could not have told their connection with the rest of the discourse:

"The cross shines fair, and the church bell rings,

And the air is peopled with holy things;

Yet the world is not happy as the world might be—

Why is it? why is it?  Oh, answer me!

"What
lackest
thou, world? for God made thee of old;

Why thy faith gone out, and
thy
love grown cold?

Thou art not happy as thou
mightest
be,

For the want of Christ's simplicity.

"It is blood thou
lackest
, thou poor old world!

Who shall make thy love hot for thee, frozen old world?

Thou art not happy as thou
mightest
be, For the love of dear Jesus is little in thee.

"Poor world! if thou
cravest
a better day,

Remember that Christ must have his own way;

I mourn thou art not as thou
mightest
be,

But the love of God would do all for thee."

The words were exquisitely recited and the house still in that hush that comes over even a quiet audience when the speaker has his hearers more than usually within his power. The few words that followed be-fore the close of the sermon impressed the thought embodied in the last verse. Evelyn was deeply affected by it and as a drowning person will catch at anything that seems to be able to give support so she had caught at this poem; while the preacher repeated solemnly the last four lines she fastened them in her memory:

"If thou
cravest
a better day,

Remember that Christ must have his own way;"

"But the love of God would do all for thee."

Would it? How? And how could Christ have his own way? Was she hindering? She resolved to do all within her power to discover.

T
hose were happy days for Allison and sped on wings of sunshine. Not one of the troubles she had expected to meet came her way. Not a theatre was mentioned. That puzzled her, for she knew Evelyn had been fond of going. Not a card was suggested nor a dance, and as for wine, they did not even have it in the jellies and custards. She found out afterward that it was a whim of Mr. Rutherford's, not a little scoffed at by the servants, but still adhered to, because, when Mr. Rutherford said anything, it had to be
so. Even her dress was a satis
faction. Marie had found a way to cut the objectionable broadcloth skirt over and turn that breadth right
side up. Allison never quite un
derstood how it was done.

They seemed to study her fancies and try to do what would please her most. There were wonderful concerts, beyond anything she had ever dreamed of, in music, and lectures and entertainments; there were picture galleries which filled her with delight; there were rides in the park and shopping expeditions, and tri
ps to this and that point of in
terest. And Allison never knew until she reached home again and learned it from his own blunt questions that she probably had Bert to thank for the omission of the theatre. They knew from Bert that she did not approve of the theatre, and they showed their perfection of court
esy by not bringing it up at all.

She, on her part, was responsible for initiating Evelyn into what gave her an occupation later and mu
ch helpful thought and sad plea
sure.

"There are wonderful missionary m
eetings in New York," said Alli
son wistfully. "Do you ever go? They are women's meetings, you
know. They meet in their own room
s and have the returned mission
aries speak to them. I should like so much to go. It may be that my brother's work in China will be mentioned."

"By all means," said Evelyn with alacrity. "Let us go. Do you know when they meet? What evenings?"

"Oh, I think they meet in the mornings, and I am not sure, but I think it is every Monday, or every other Monday. I have my magazine in my trunk and there is an article there about the monthly meeting. I can find out."

To Allison's surprise, this seemed to interest her hostess more than anything they had attempted yet. She sent to ascertain the exact hour and place of the meetings, and she attended and listened with wide, surprised eyes as she heard the stories of hardships and suffering, of pain and loss and privation, joyfully undergone for the love of Him whose they were and whom they
served. Was it possible, then, that Doctor Grey had wished to stay in this country and live his life as he had the opportunity to live it, as others in his place would have done, to enjoy his own pleasure and prosperity and comfort, but that he gave it up so that Christ might "have his own way" with him, and because the love of that Christ was great in his heart and not "little" as that poem had said? Her eyes filled with tears over the thought and her heart swelled with admiration and reverence for the soul that had so cheerfully gone out away from its luxurious life that others might be help
ed and saved by this same Jesus.

Some returned missionaries have an idea that the people here are weary of the tales and incidents of their work abroad; indeed, one said not long ago that he was told by his Board when he came back to talk: "Now, don't tell your little stories. We have got beyond them in this country. What we want now is facts"
—facts in this case meaning sta
tistics. Let our people take heed how they stop
the mouths of the mis
sionaries in this way. The "little stories" reach the heart. Humanity is the same the world over, and the story of some heathen's conversion and willingness to take up his cross and follow Jesus may lead another brother, even though he may be white and civilized, to see the worth of the
Saviour
.

It was just a little simple story of a poor old Indian woman and her childlike love for Jesus that led Evelyn Rutherford at last to the light. It suddenly dawned upon her, in one of these meetings which she and Allison attended quite regularly, that this love which had been carried so far at so great expense to these heathen had also been brought to her. It had been preached to her as she walked a sunny street paved with autumn leaves one day, and on a lofty hilltop, by a missionary sent to her all her own, and was now being preached daily by the sweet, gentle girl, his sister. It was like a revelation that she could just accept Jesus so freely offered her. There was nothing at all to do but tell him so and then "let him have his own way." She smiled to herself to think how strangely the way had been paved for that by the prayer her "missionary" had taught her to pray, "Make me willing to belong to Christ." She was entirely willing—
nay, eager and glad. What it in
volved of sacrifice or trial she did not care to ask. It was enough that she longed to have him do his will in her that she might someday be made into the completeness he had planned.

"We seem to have nothing on hand
for to-morrow night," said Rich
ard Rutherford one evening at dinner. "Miss Grey, is there anything else in New York that you have not seen that you think you would like to see?"

Allison's eyes shone with wistfulness as she owned there was just one more place which she had been longing for several years to see, and that was the Water Street Mission. She hesitated as she said it, lest they would laugh at her, but Jerry
McAuley's
Mission had gained by this time so much respect from New York business men that Mr. Rutherford nodded his head emphatically.

"Yes," he said, "it's a very interesting place to go."

"Have you ever been there, father?" asked the young man, looking up at his father in surprise. "Is it a suita
ble place for a lady? Is it per
fectly safe for one to visit?"

"Oh, yes, I think so, perfectly," answered the father. "I understand a great many women go. You need not wear any jewelry and I would dress plainly; but it is perfectly safe. Yes, I went myself several years ago, when Jerry was living, and I must say there is nothing like it anywhere in the city. More religion down there than in many of the churches, to my way of thinking."

Evelyn also seemed much interested, and so it was arranged to go the next evening.

"I wish I could go with you," said the father as they left the table. "I would like to see how the work is getting on and if it has changed any, but I have a Board meeting that I must not miss."

When the next evening came, Evelyn had developed a severe cold, which made her feel so wholly miserable that she was forced to give up the expedition. Allison was disappointed, but she tried not to show it, for she knew that Evelyn was feeling quite ill. But when Richard found out the state of the case, he proposed that he should take Miss Grey anyway, as there was to be an unusual meeting going on that night and one which he felt sure she would enjoy. He had taken pains to find out about it.

Allison looked at Evelyn eagerly. She was not altogether sure it would be the proper thing for her to do this, at least not in her hostess' estimation; but Evelyn was glad to have Allison enjoy the meeting and assured her it would be all right to go. They would be going on the cars nearly all the way. It was not like society functions where chaperones were necessary. Evelyn said she was going to bed to see if she could not sleep off her headache and cold and did not want Allison to stay and take care of her, she would much rather have her tell about the mission in the morning.

The father hearing the discussion said: "Why, yes, certainly, go. Two such steady people as you are don't need a chaperone. I
f we get through at the board in
time, I'll step around myself about nine o'clock, but it's not likely, so don't wait."

So they started.

It was almost the first time in her life that Allison had gone out alone in company with a young man who w
as her equal socially and intel
lectually. The young men of that sort who belonged to
Hillcroft
had nearly all gone to some city. There was little or nothing to call people out in
Hillcroft
unless to church and Allison had always gone there with her father or brother. Besides, she was particular about her
friends and had not chosen to be very intimate with any but those much younger than herself, and these only in a helpful way. This was partly the result of her training, for her father had not cared to have her running about at night with boys, as some
girls are allowed to do, before she was fully out of short dresses, so she had grown into the habit of having an escort from home whenever there was occasion for her to go out at night.

But she had dreamed of a time somewhere in the misty future when she would be taken abo
ut and have attention from some
one, perhaps from more than one; but always there was a
some one
who was a very special one in her pretty visions of the
future. And now she was realiz
ing her dreams, in part at least. She was a young woman going out for the evening with a young man. And
the young man was not the fool
ish, vapid fellow that she had often read about, but a truly delightful companion in which she was deeply interested. Ever since that first Sunday evening when they had their brief talk she had been praying earnestly for him. They had never had another opportunity to speak together on the subject, but she did not forget and she hoped that sometime he would tell her that he had found that it was all true as she had said. Would the meeting at the mission to-night have any effect upon him, she wondered? She had read about those meetings, that they often reached the rich and re
fined as well as the low and de
graded.

Allison had dressed herself quite plainly, but her escort thought her pure beauty just as great. It was not a beauty of adornments anyway, he told himse
lf, but a loveliness of the soul.

They did not talk much on the way downtown, except about what they saw. It was all interesting to Allison. Heretofore her trips about New York in the evening had nearly all been taken in state in a carriage. Now she saw the every-day New York out having a good time. The Bowery presented a spectacle which to her wondering, unused eyes was worthy of long years of study. She would fain have lingered among the strange sights and sounds and she asked many clear-pointed questions which showed Richard that though she had never seen the Bowery before she had read and heard a great deal about it
.

She looked with sad, fascinated eyes u
pon the group of hard-faced lit
tle children who danced wildly about a hurdy-gurdy, and sighed for them, till the young man could almost read her desire to save them in her eyes.

The mission was all that Allison had pictured it in her mind. Her soul thrilled with the stories of those who testified to the saving power of Jesus. She looked at the young man by her side and saw that he was also deeply impressed. He looked at the poor drunkards as though they were his fellow-brethren and not a species of animals of a lower order. She gave a thankful sigh for that. She had believed he was great-
souled
like that and she was glad.
Then all her attention was riv
eted to the face of a strangely handsome woman who in spite of her pallor and a certain sharpness, eviden
tly had come of patrician ances
tors. In her arms she carried a white-faced child fast asleep, whom she grasped convulsively while great tears were following one another down her hollow cheeks. She sat across the aisle from them near the end of the seat and presently a man who was at the end got up and went forward to speak to one of the leaders. Allison, seeing that other workers were doing the same thing, and forgetful of her escort, slipped quietly into the place beside the poor woman and began talking to her in a gentle way.

Richard looked up astonished when he felt that her place was vacant beside him and thereafter the meeting for him narrowed down to the two across the aisle. He could just see the sweet, earnest profile of the bent, golden head and the hardened l
ook that came over the worn fea
tures of the woman as she grasped her child a little closer. But though she was repelled, still the gentle talk went on, and by and by he could see the fierce look grow less intense and soften and the bitter tears flow. The woman was shaking her head as if in despair, but still he could see that Allison was urging, urging, and the head-shaking ceased; the woman was considering. Allison had turned a little so he could see the yearning in her face. He wondered how
any one
could resist that look. He wished she would ask him in that way. He thought he would do anything for her. And now the woman was giving up. She looked Allison in the face with an expression of wonder and dawning
acceptance, and a faint smile played where smiles were meant to be. A little more talk, and then the two heads bowed and Richard knew that Allison was praying in a low tone for the woman. There were other life-dramas being acted out all about him, but he had eyes for this one only. He was wishing he could hear the words of that prayer when a heavy hand was laid upon his arm on the other side, and a trembling, aged voice said low in his can