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Page 20
Beth had not told her father yet that all was at an end between her and
Clarence. She dreaded telling him that, but she knew he must have
learned it from the Mayfairs during her absence. She sighed as she
thought of it all, and just then Dr. Woodburn came in and sat down on
the couch beside her. They talked until the twilight of that rainy
afternoon began to deepen. Then they were silent for a while, and Beth
saw her father looking at her with a tender look in his eyes.
"Beth, my dear child, what is wrong between you and Clarence?"
She had believed she could tell him all with perfect calmness, but there
was something so very gentle in his look and voice that it disarmed her,
and she threw both arms about his neck, and burst into tears.
"Oh, father, dear, I could not marry him. It would not be right. He
loves Marie de Vere."
Dr. Woodburn turned away his face, tenderly stroking her hair as she
leaned upon his breast. He spoke no word, but she knew what he felt.
"Oh, daddy, dear, don't think anything about it," she said, giving him a
warm embrace as she looked up at him, smiling through her tears. "I'm
not unhappy. I have so many things to think of, and I have always you,
you dear old father. I love you better than anyone else on earth. I will
be your own little daughter always."
She pressed her arms about him more tightly, and there were tears in his
eyes as he stooped to kiss her brow.
Beth thought of all his tenderness that night as she lay in bed, and
then slept, with the rain beating on the roof overhead.
It was a bright sunshiny Sabbath morning when she awoke. She remembered
with pleasure how much she had liked Mr. Perth, the new minister, that
Sunday. She had heard him before she went away. He had seemed such an
energetic, wide-awake, inspiring man! Beth liked that stamp of people.
She meant to be a progressive girl. She meant to labor much and to have
much success.
She was quite early at church that morning, and interested herself by
looking at Mrs. Perth, whom she had never seen before. She was a fair,
slender, girlish creature--very youthful indeed for a married woman. She
had a great mass of light hair, drawn back plainly from a serenely fair
forehead. The fashion became her well, for, in fact, the most striking
thing about her face was its simplicity and purity. She was certainly
plain-looking, but Beth fancied her face looked like the white cup of a
lily. She had such beautiful blue eyes, too, and such a sweet smile.
"I think I shall love her. I believe we shall be great friends," thought
Beth, after she had had an introduction to Mrs. Perth; and they did
become fast friends.
Beth had seldom been at Sunday-school since she left home, but an
impulse seized her to go this afternoon. She was quite early, and she
sat down in a seat by herself to muse awhile. She gazed at the lilies
about the altar and the stained-glass windows above the organ. How long
it seemed to look back to that Sunday of two months ago! She shuddered
slightly, and tried to change her thoughts, but she could not help going
back to it. It seemed as though years had since passed. So it is always.
We go about our daily tasks, and the time passes swiftly or slowly,
according as our lives are active or monotonous. Then a crisis comes--an
upheaval--a turn in the current. It lasts but a moment, perhaps, but
when we look back, years seem to have intervened. Beth gave a half sigh,
and concluded she was a little weary, as the people poured into the
Bible-class. Mrs. Perth came and sat beside Beth. Is it not strange how,
in this world of formality and convention, we meet someone now and
again, and there is but a look, a word, a, smile, and we feel that we
have known them so long? There is something familiar in their face, and
we seem to have walked beside them all along the way. It was just so
with Beth and Mrs. Perth. Sweet May Perth! She soon learned to call her
that.
Beth was never to forget that Sunday afternoon. Mr. Perth taught the
Bible-class. He was an enthusiastic man, reminding her somewhat of
Arthur. They were studying, that day, the approach of the Israelites to
Canaan, and as Mr. Perth grew more earnest, Beth's face wore a brighter
look of interest. Soon he laid aside historical retrospect, and talked
of the heavenly Canaan toward which Christ's people were journeying, a
bright land shining in the sunlight of God's love, joy in abundance, joy
overflowing! He looked so happy as he talked of that Divine love,
changeless throughout all time, throughout all eternity--a love that
never forsakes, that lulls the weary like a cradle-song, a love that
satisfies even the secret longings! Oh, that woman heart of hers, how it
yearned, yea, hungered for a love like that love, that could tread the
earth in humiliation, bearing the cross of others' guilt, dying there at
Calvary! She knew that old, old story well, but she drank it in like a
little wondering child to-day. What were those things He promised to
those who would tread the shining pathway? Life, peace, rest, hope, joy
of earth, joy of heaven! Oh, how she longed to go with them! The tears
were standing in her eyes, and her heart was beating faster. But this
one thing she must do, or turn aside from the promised land of God's
people. Down at the feet of Jesus she must lay her all. And what of that
novel she had written? Could she carry that over into this heavenly
Canaan? "The fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is." Hers
would perish, she knew that well. Highly moral, highly refined and
scholarly, but what of its doubts, its shadows, its sorrows without
hope, its supernatural gloom? Beth was a master-artist in the field of
gloom. She knew how to make her readers shudder, but would that story of
hers bring more joy into the world? Would it sweeten life and warm human
hearts? Ah, no! And yet, could she destroy it now, before its
publication? Could she bear the thought of it? She loved it almost as a
mother loves her child. A look of indecision crossed her face. But, just
then, she seemed to hear the bells of heaven ringing forth their sweet
Gospel call. The bright sunshine and the angel voices of a higher life
seemed to break in on her soul. In a moment--she never knew how it
was--she became willing to surrender all. It was hardly a year since she
had said nay to Arthur, when he asked her to lay her life at the feet of
that same Jesus of Nazareth. She refused then, and even one hour ago
she would still have refused; but now she would have trudged the
highways, poverty-stricken, unknown and obscure, for His dear sake. She
would have gone forth, like St. Paul, to the uttermost ends of the
earth, she felt she loved Him so! There were tears in her eyes, and a
new joy seemed to throb in her heart. She felt so kindly to everyone
about her. Was it an impulse or what? She laid her hand softly on May
Perth's as she sat beside her, and May, looking into her eyes, seemed to
read her heart. She held her hand with a warm, loving pressure, and they
were friends from that hour.
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