XXVI
Murray Van Rensselaer had never held such sweet converse with a man as he held with the minister on that ride home. Murray had never supposed there could be such a man as that minister, so strong and fearless, yet so tender and gentle, so wise and far-seeing, yet able to laugh and see a joke quicker than most; so wholly given up to the will of God. That was the secret of it all, really. He recognized that, untaught in holy things though he was.
And the minister on his part had conceived a great love for the young man who had come into their church under such peculiar circumstances. Somehow it seemed as though the Lord Himself had sent him, and was caring for him in a special way. For it was no one’s fault that Murray Van Rensselaer was taken into the church of God without the usual formalities, and without knowledge of what he was doing. Not that there are not many thousands of young people swept into the church today without any adequate idea of what they are doing, but they at least know enough to know that they are, as they call it, “joining the church.” Murray did not know by that name that was what he himself was doing, but in heart he belonged to the Saviour, body and soul. The work had been done in preparation wholly by the Holy Spirit Himself. Murray was in every sense begotten of the Spirit. Born anew.
As they rode along in the early dusk of the mid-winterafternoon the minister marvelled at this new-born Christian, and the simple, childlike way in which he had grasped great truths and accepted them, which even scholars found difficult to believe. Taught of God, that was what he was. Not with the knowledge of men, but of the spirit.
They rode into Marlborough five minutes before time for the evening service, and stopped only long enough to pick up Mrs. Summers and move on to the church.
The fame of Murray’s confession had spread abroad throughout the town that day, and the church was crowded. After the service the minister came down among the audience to speak to one and another, and happening to stand near Murray for a moment he leaned over and whispered:
“What a pity! See, Murray, all these people, and how you might influence them—if you only hadn’t to leave us!”
“I know,” said Murray, and his eyes drooped sadly, then lifting his gaze anxiously:
“Do you suppose that Heaven will have any way to make up for all the opportunities I’ve wasted here?”
Mrs. Summers and Murray sat by the fire a long time that night and talked, afterMr.Harper had left.
Mr.Harper had come to say to Murray that he had entire confidence in him, and felt that all would still be well in every way for his position in the bank, but he advised him to say no more about his past. One confession was enough. He needn’t be telling it all the time. It would soon be forgotten, and everything would be as before.
Murray waited until he was all through, and then he looked him straight in the eye:
“That’s all very kind of you,Mr.Harper. I know you’re saying that for my sake. But I don’t want it to be as it was before. It couldn’t be. I’ve found out I was all wrong, and I’ll have to be telling what God has done for me the rest of the time I have to live. As for the bank, I’vegotto leave you. You’re very kind to ask me to stay after the way I’ve treated you and deceived you. I’m sorry to have to go away right off without waiting till you get a temporary person in my place, but you see it’s just this way. I’m wanted by the State to answer a criminal charge, and there are some things that I must do to make right a cowardly thing I did, before I’m put where there is no chance for me to make anything right. Now that there are so many people who know who I am there is no surety that I may not be arrested any minute, or else I would wait till you can fill my place. But I was with Allan Murray this afternoon, and he thinks he will soon be able to come to you, if you still want him. He is a better man than I am. And everything will be all right for you when he comes.”
ButMr.Harper was not to be appeased. He had taken a liking to this young man. He fitted perfectly in with his schemes for the bank. The other might be all right, but he wanted this one. He was under no obligation to Allan Murray, since he did not come at the time arranged, and besides there was room in the bank for another person if it came to that, of course. It was with great reluctance that he finallywithdrew and left Mrs. Summers and Murray to have their last talk together.
It was then that Murray told her about Bessie and Mrs. Chapparelle. Told of his own home and his lonely childhood, though that was merely seen between the lines, not put into words. Told of the brightness of the little cosey home around the corner, and of the little girl who had been so sweet and gay a friend, then of the years between, and finally of his finding her that afternoon and taking her to ride. He did not tell of their visit to Grevet’s. He did not realize himself what part that incident had played in the tragedy of the fateful afternoon. But he told of his long wait in the hospital, and finally of the approach of the nurse with the sad news, and his flight.
As he put it all into words his own perfidy and cowardice arose before him in its true light, and his shame and sorrow came upon him so powerfully that once he put his head down on the little tea table and groaned aloud. Then the little warm rose-leaf hand of the woman was laid upon his head tenderly, and he felt the comfort of her loving spirit.
They read together for the last time the precious fourteenth chapter of John, that has been the stay and comfort of so many saints in trouble throughout the ages, and then they knelt and prayed together. Mrs. Summers prayed for Murray, and finally Murray lifted a sorrowful voice and prayed, “Oh, God! Bless her—and help me!” just a whisper of a prayer, but it must have reached the throne.
In the morning he drove away in the minister’s car. The minister would have it so.
“You are not safe in the train, son. They might get you arrested before your work is done.”
The minister would have gone along, but Murray said no.
“I must face the music alone, you know. It was I who ran away from it, not you. And I’m not going to take you away from your busy days. But I’ll send the car back safely, and I’ll let you know how it comes out. I’ll let you both know.”
So he drove away.