"In the midst of life is death."
It was a warm, sultry day in early April. The Hastings family were just settled in their summer home in Allendale. Venna had been "to town" all the morning on a shopping expedition, and had returned home somewhat fatigued by the warmth of the early spring. She had lunched and was resting alone in her room. She sat by her open window with her book in her lap, unheeded. Her head resting back upon the cushions, she dreamily watched the robins busying themselves with nest building in the tree outside.
"Poor little birds!" she mused. "You're working so hard for your little home and the first storm may blow it down!"
The robins continued to chirp happily.
"You'll be happy anyway while it lasts," she thought, "and if your nest falls, you'll build another—just as we all do!"
Venna certainly was in a dreamy mood. Her mind wandered over the entire winter's doings, since her debut.
Her debut! How well she remembered the keen enjoyment of it! But the months following! Had she found them all satisfying? She had to admit that she had not. One whirl of gayety had been hers. She had been the acknowledged belle of the season. Among her many admirers, Mr. Hadly pushed himself always to the front and assumed "the right of way" with such firmness that her friends took it for granted that it would culminate in a brilliant match. Venna did not repulse, neither did she encourage, him. She was so busy having "a good time" that she let admiration take its course and if the other men were so easily pushed aside, Venna did not care. She liked Hadly's masterful way of doing things. If he invited her anywhere, it was always in a manner which said, "You'll be sorry if you don't go." And she had to admit that his invitations resulted in the most pleasurable times of the winter.
"Am I in love with him?" she asked herself today, as she had many times before.
"No, decidedly not!" was her answer, which always pleased herself, for Venna didn't want to be in love yet, and be married like all the other girls who had gone out ahead of her. She wanted "to do something" first. Just what she meant to "do" she hadn't decided, but the married girls she knew led such monotonous lives—society, society and always the same dressing, entertaining and being entertained.
It was plain Venna's one year in the social world was enough. Yes, she had tired of it already. She was going to talk to Daddy about it. Next year, she would like to play at real public concerts—not just social functions—and really earn money. But why earn money? Daddy had an endless supply on hand for her always.
Well, maybe she could do settlement work. She had a friend who was immensely interested in it. She had met her only lately and the girl said she was never so happy as when working among the poor.
"I believe that's what I'll do," she exclaimed, and her eyes lost their dreaminess and shone brightly.
There was a sudden chirping of the robins and Venna looked out.
The clouds had gathered and a strong wind was blowing. The tree swayed to and fro. The little half finished nest fell from its bough, down, down, until it was lost to view.
"Poor little birds!" thought Venna, as she watched them fly away, chirping excitedly.
Suddenly a great depression stole over her and she began to cry softly.
"What is the matter with me?" she exclaimed, wiping away her tears with determination. "Why should I have this sudden sadness? I must not give way to it."
She arose and closed her window, for the rain was coming down quite heavily. It grew suddenly dark. Venna pulled down her shades, put the lights on, and started to dress.
"I must get busy and shake off this uncalled for mood before Daddy comes home. He may take an early train and will be coming home tired from the hot city. There's the car now!"
But it was not her father. The maid announced "Mr. Hadly," as she handed Venna a long box.
"Please open it, Stella. I'll be ready to wear one, I guess."
The maid opened up the gift of American Beauties—Venna's favorites—and handed one long stemmed rose to her mistress.
"Put the rest in water, Stella—I shall wear only one," she said, pinning the wonderful rose at her waist. "And when you go to your party to-night, just come in and take one for yourself," she added kindly.
"Oh, thank you, miss," exclaimed the maid, as she helped Venna with her dress. "You do just look wonderful today, Miss Venna. Your cheeks are as red as the rose itself."
Venna was always so familiar with her servants and they were frankly adoring.
"Thank you, my dear Stella," she said. "Your compliments have a sameness, but I always know they are sincere," she said, as she left the room to go to her guest.
Hadly awaited Venna in the large reception room facing the front porch. He looked about the cozy room all in oak and cool green, and then at the centre table with vases of violets and apple-blossoms.
He smiled as he looked at the flowers. He had a bright vision of Venna gathering them and placing them there.
Venna entered the room with her usual bright smile.
"You arrived just in time, Mr. Hadly. We are in for a storm, I guess. How dark it is!"
A sudden flash of lightning and clap of thunder made them both start.
Venna hastily put on the lights with a slight shiver.
"Let us pull down the shades, too," she said. "It doesn't seem so bad then."
"Are you afraid of a thunder-storm. Miss Hastings?" he asked as he shut out the storm.
"Not ordinarily," she returned, suddenly paling as another streak of lightning penetrated the room, followed by thunder that shook the house.
Hadly crossed to her side, and taking her arm gently, led her to a chair.
"You really look pale. Tell me, there is something more than the storm that has frightened you. What is it?"
"I don't know," returned Venna, sitting down. "I was watching the robins outside my window when I was possessed with an indescribable sadness. It passed off and now comes this fear. I don't understand it. I never fear a storm."
He stood beside her chair, towering handsomely by her side. He looked down into her face so full of questioning fear. Surely now was his time.
"Miss Hastings—Venna—may I call you Venna? because you have never feared a storm in the past is not to say you never will. Won't you give me the privilege of sheltering you from all the storms of the future? Venna, I love you. Not with the half love of a youth, but with the strong love of a matured manhood that knows the world and can therefore appreciate a girl like you the more."
He leaned over her but did not touch her. His eyes seemed to burn their passion into her very soul and for a moment held her spell-bound.
She might have expected this, yet she had drifted on. Now she was suddenly confronted with the passionate love of a man who was in dead earnest and evidently expected a return. Feeling the embarrassment of refusing him, she dropped her eyes in confusion.
He took her hand and pressed it hard.
"You will then be my wife, Venna?"
The same masterful way he expected her to accept him. What could she say?
"Youdolove me?" he again insisted.
She finally gained courage and raised her eyes to meet his with frank regret.
"Mr. Hadly, I wish that I could love a man like you, for I know your love is one for any girl to be proud of. I know you are sincere in caring for me. But I don't think it is in me to love any man—notyet, I am sure."
His eyes darkened with disappointment.
"Then I have been deceived all this time—thinking you surely loved me as you have accepted my attentions unreservedly."
Venna blushed with conscious shame.
"I had no reason to believe you"—there she stopped short. She was not yet accustomed to handle proposals. She felt a quick self-blame. She had enjoyed herself at this man's expense.
He read her thoughts.
"There, Venna, I do not blame you. You are very young. I must not expect too much love at first. Just say that you will marry me!"
"Without loving you?" she asked in sudden wonder.
"Why not?" he asked, smiling into her eyes. "Once we are married, I will teach you to love."
He leaned so near to her now that his breath was upon her cheek. She felt he was about to kiss her. She withdrew from him with a sudden repulsion.
"Don't!" she said, imploringly. "I never could love you—nor any other man," she added, childishly, finding words to make the hurt seem less.
At this moment Stella appeared at the door.
"Telegram, Miss," she said. "An immediate answer wanted."
Hadly covered Venna's confusion by walking over to Stella, taking the telegram and handing it to Venna, who mechanically took it.
"Thank you, Stella. I will call you when I have the answer ready."
The maid quietly withdrew.
Hastily Venna opened the telegram.
As she read, her face paled and the telegram dropped from her trembling hands. Rigid she sat gazing before her with fixed stare.
"Venna! What is it? Tell me!" insisted Hadly.
She did not answer him, but the look of sudden anguish on the girl's face made him take up the telegram and read.
"John Hastings met with serious accident at 2:30 today. Now at the M— Hospital. Come at once. Cannot live many hours."
A sudden look of relief crept into his handsome face, but it was instantly replaced by one of compassion for the girl before him.
"You poor girl," he said, kneeling beside her and, placing both arms around her inert form, he drew her gently to him.
In her stormy grief, Venna's power of resistance was gone. She knew she was suffering keenly; but without definitely realizing the cause. But Hadly's caresses soon brought her to her full senses, and she withdrew from his arms in great anxiety.
"Your car is here. Can you take me to the train immediately?"
"I will take you to New York, right to the hospital, dear," was his ready answer.
"Thank you!" she exclaimed excitedly. "But, auntie—how can we tell her?"
"Is she home?"
"No, she went out this morning for a long ride with the Jetsons. They are probably caught in the storm somewhere. It will be impossible to find her. We must not lose the next train," she exclaimed, glancing hurriedly at her watch which pointed to 3:30.
"When do you expect her home?"
"Maybe not until six o'clock dinner. Oh, we must hurry!"
"Yes, by that time we can be in New York. Get your things quickly. Your aunt must follow. Ring for Stella. I will explain to her while you get ready."
Venna found her excitement giving way to a great calm. As oil thrown upon an angry sea stills the turbulent waters, so a great unseen influence pervaded the girl's being and quieted the tempest of her mind. She could not understand it, but was thankful.
Her great pallor startled the maid as they met at the door.
"Stella, Mr. Hadly will explain. I am hurrying to catch the next train to New York."
With these words, she ran upstairs, entered her room, and quickly dressed for the city. Before leaving, she stood for a moment in front of her father's picture, smiling down upon her.
"O God, help me!" she exclaimed piteously, but her eyes were tearless.
She quickly rejoined Hadly and together they started in his closed limousine. The storm had somewhat abated, but it still rained hard, and lightning continually flashed in upon them.
Protectingly he put his arm around her. She did not withdraw. It seemed natural now. She needed someone, anyone, to accompany her in her grief.
"How kind he is!" she thought, vaguely realizing this hour of trial was drawing them closer together.
Venna never fully remembered what was said on that trip to New York. Her mind was full of longing to get to her father, and she answered Hadley's constant remarks in monosyllables, scarcely realizing what he said.
His whole attitude was one of protecting ownership. So they rushed on to the great city which was to hold her first awful sorrow.
Love for her father was the only affection she was capable of feeling now, but Hadly was asking nothing. He was giving all. She had a dim appreciation of his kindness, and thanked him several times. Each time he refused her thanks with an ardent declaration that his only object in life was to serve her always.
At last the awful journey was over. The train drew into the Grand Central and a taxi then took them hurriedly to the hospital.
Venna's calmness was even more pronounced as they approached the desk and asked for "John Hastings."
She scarcely breathed as the doctor took up the hospital phone.
Then the cold reply was brusquely given: "All right, you can go right up."
Silently they followed the orderly, Venna leading with a firm, light step.
As they entered the room where her father lay, Venna stood still and gazed with horror at what she saw. Was this her own beloved Daddy? There upon the couch lay a man with the pallor of death making more ghastly the two awful gashes on cheek and forehead.
The nurse attending held up a finger of silence and approached her kindly.
"Don't disturb him," she whispered. "He will doubtless awaken soon."
Approaching the bed noiselessly, Venna sat down upon the chair placed for her.
Hadly walked over to the window and looked out with a grim expression, avoiding too close a contact with death.
As spirit communes with spirit, so Venna's presence brought back the consciousness of her father. He opened his eyes slowly and fastened them upon her with unutterable joy.
"My darling girl, you have come!" he murmured, making a weak effort to lift his hand.
She leaned gently over him and kissed his white lips.
"Yes, Daddy, I'm here, dear. I'm here to stay with you until you go home," she said quietly but with a voice full of love.
His eyes saddened.
"Until—I go—home, dearie? That will be soon, very soon. Be sure you stay."
His eyes closed again in sudden weakness.
Venna stared at him in horror.
"Daddy, daddy, you don't mean—Oh! speak to me. Daddy!" she cried piteously.
His eyes opened once more and smiled upon her, full of loving concern.
"Venna child, be brave," he whispered. "I'm going home-to your dear mother. Be brave. Be—good, Petty. Always—be—good, for—Daddy's sake. See Venna! There is your mother now. Look! She comes! O beautiful wife!"
He said no more. His eyes, lit with a holy joy, looked beyond Venna.
Suddenly he raised both arms outstretched in welcome. Then they fell. His eyes dimmed.
"Daddy!" cried Venna in anguish.
But there was no answer. Venna was alone.
Life is measured, not by time, but by experience.
Her father's sudden death left Venna an heiress, but never having known anything but luxury, she did not value her wealth. In fact, it might have been a considerable burden to both Venna and her aunt, both of whom were entirely ignorant of business, but Mr. Hadly took everything in hand, attending to details, and leaving as little as possible to the lawyers. This, he assured them, was the only safe way, and gratefully they accepted his services.
Both Venna and Emily Hastings were almost inconsolable in their grief. The latter found some consolation in Dr. Hansom's visits, but to Venna these were no comfort. She naturally turned to him, but his faith was the kind that handled the world's troublesen masse, and in personal grief, he had few words to say.
Venna asked him many questions about the hereafter, to which he gave many vague answers.
"It is not for us to know anything definitely. Faith leaves it all to God," he assured her in conclusion.
"But surely the Bible gives us some certainties, Dr. Hansom," she pleaded, hungry for spiritual truths.
"So much depends on how you interpret the Bible, my dear. I declare very few certainties to my people, because there are very brainy men who all differ. Of course there's a hereafter, and your father was a good member of the Church, so we know he is happy. I'm very glad he joined the Church before it was too late."
"Do you mean my dear father would not have been saved if he hadnotjoined the Church?" Venna asked credulously.
Dr. Hansom had to clear his throat before answering.
"Really, my dear, I don't like to hurt you. I loved your dear father always, but if he had not joined himself to the House of the Lord, I would be forced to believe he was lost."
"Then God loved my father less than you or I did—we wouldn't see him lost, would we? Oh, Dr. Hansom, religion teaches many a paradox today. I don't wonder there is so little spirituality in the Churches."
Dr. Hansom turned the subject with a fatherly pat of her curls and the admonition,
"Don't judge, little girl, don't judge. There may be a hidden life in the Church which you cannot see!"
But Venna decided the "hidden life" brought her no satisfaction or comfort and gradually she drifted away from the Church.
Hadly took this opportunity to show his devotion at every turn.
Her aunt thought him about perfect and spoke in his praise continually.
Venna acquiesced in all she said, but for a long time refused to marry him. However, he had determined to win out and persisted constantly, asking no love of Venna in return for his.
At last her aunt's persuasions and Hadly's determination won out, and one year after her father's death, they were quietly married. Venna felt a certain satisfaction that she was delighting her aunt and also making happy the greatest friend she had known through her sorrow.
Many times she puzzled over the fact that her coldness did not worry Hadly at all. But she decided that men were unfathomable in their affections, and such devotion as his was certainly noble. She wished she could love him—perhaps some day she would.
She made all kinds of plans for her married life. Hadly had promised to let her work among the poor to her heart's content. No plan of hers ever met with the slightest objection, and her aunt continually reminded her what an ideal husband he was.
"But am I an ideal wife?" Venna asked doubtfully.
"Anyone should be glad to winyou, dearie," was always her aunt's proud answer.
She longed to live in the old home, so Hadly, as usual, consented.
It was just six months after her marriage.
Venna was in the dear old library sorting out some books to use in her settlement work. Her husband's business caused him to travel so much that she had practically all her time to herself. After all, her married life had been a very smooth, contented affair.
When at home, her husband was completely devoted to Venna and her aunt. But when he was away she felt a joyous relief at her freedom and worked with zeal.
It never occurred to her to inquire into his many business trips. All business was a bore to her, and she was glad to leave it entirely in his hands. She hoped she would never show her pleasure at his absence, for she earnestly longed to please him as he deserved.
Today she was rather wishing her husband were home. There were some important business details to be attended to and she needed his advice. But this trip would be an unusually long one for him. He had written only this morning that he could not be home for another week.
Just as she finished her work in the library, Stella brought in a card announcing a caller—"Miss Hedgeway."
"But I don't know her, Stella," said Venna, wonderingly. "Ask her her business, please."
Stella obeyed and soon returned with the short reply, "Very personal. That's all she would say."
"That is the method all the agents use. Tell her I'm sorry, but too busy today to see strangers."
"All right, ma'am," replied the girl.
Venna left the library and was going upstairs when she heard voices below.
"I tell you Imustsee her. It's important. I won't leave this house until you take me to Mrs. Hadly."
"But, madam, I have to obey orders. She refuses to see anyone at present."
"Tell your mistress what I say," came the confident answer.
Stella ascended the stairs reluctantly and Venna met her half way.
"I heard her, Stella. I will see her for a few moments—in the library."
"You wish to see me?" Venna asked pleasantly as she re-entered the library.
The woman, still standing, eyed Venna from head to foot critically before speaking.
Venna had the impression of a rather good looking, stout brunette with small, restless dark eyes. She was fashionably dressed, with a style more attractive than refined.
"So you are Mrs. Hadly!" she exclaimed rather than asked.
"I am Mrs. Hadly," replied Venna with dignity, "Why did you wish so to see me?"
"When you know what I have to say, you'll be glad you let me speak with you," the woman replied in a low, even tone. "Are we entirely alone? Sit near to me, please," she added, seating herself and drawing a chair close to her own for Venna.
"Is your business so private?" Venna asked curiously, as she seated herself, calmly amused at her visitor's impertinence.
The woman's face softened.
"You look rather young and innocent. I thought somehow you would be different. More like one of the haughty society women who wouldn't cast a glance at anyone outside their set!"
"All society women are not so," returned Venna, smiling. "But why should you picturemelike that?"
"Only as his wife," the woman replied bitterly. "You're not his style, believe me. But the money did it—always the money does it."
"I don't understand you," returned Venna, rising indignantly. "If you have come here to insult me, whatever your motive, I must ask you to leave."
The woman rose, too, and laid a hand on Venna's arm.
"I tell you, I'm sorry for you. I don't want to hurt a girl like you. But now I'm here, I'll have it out. I came to hurthim, not you. I hate him. You understand? Ihatehim. I gave him five years of my youth, and we—yes, your husband and myself—have a little girl. I loved him—my God! How I loved him! I gave him more thanyouever gave. And then he threw me over to marrymoney. Not you, girl, but your money! And I searched him out. I came to New York to find his wife and ruinhim. Here, girl! Don't take it so hard; sit down. You're faint, aren't you? I'm sorry I let it out so blunt. I should have gone easier—yes, you've got to suffer, too, poor thing!" And she put her arm around Venna for support.
But Venna, recovering, drew herself up haughtily.
"How dare you come here with such falsehoods!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Leave my house at once."
"That is how we all act, until we find out what men really are," replied the woman with a scornful pity. "It's hard to wake up to what the world really is, isn't it? Perhaps you don't think I'm sorry for you!"
"I will not listen to you," exclaimed Venna proudly. "Will you please go?"
The woman scrutinized Venna keenly. "No, you are not acting," she said coolly. "You'd rather believe inhimthan inme—naturally. But he'll soon run through all your money as he did his own, and then you'll be glad to have me tell you a little more about your ideal. Here is my card," she added, laying one upon the table. "I will come when you send for me," and with a smile, half contempt, half compassion, she was gone.
For a moment, Venna stood, deep in troubled thought. Who was this woman? What did it all mean? As her anger cooled, awful doubts crept into her mind and she trembled with fear. Could there be any truth in it? Had she been unwise not to listen? Yet that would have been treachery to Will. But suppose—she heard her aunt's voice calling her. Hastily she put the woman's card in her dress.
"Auntie must not know of this," she determined. A dull, heavy depression seized her. This was her first experience with a hidden trial, for trial it would be until Will could explain—of course, he would explain—but she would have to ponder over the mystery of it for a week.
It seemed unbearable. She decided to write to Will and ask him to come sooner.
She took up a pen and tried to write, but couldn't. Was it not wrong to doubt him that much even? Was it possible she could be so disloyal? In her self-condemnation, she was as unhappy as in her doubt.
Unobserved, her aunt entered.
"Why, Venna, how troubled you look! What is the matter, child?"
Venna was startled. Calm and pale, she faced her aunt.
"Nothing much, auntie dear. My head bothers me to-day, and there are some business details that need attending to."
"Business? Why, don't worry over that. Will will attend to everything when he returns."
"Yes, of course, it's foolish of me to bother," returned Venna. Her aunt's complete trust seemed to make her feel surer ground.
Emily Hastings, putting both arms around her niece, kissed her fondly.
"Girlie dear, I have a great secret to tell you," she said, gently smiling, her mild face flushed.
"At last?" asked Venna, smiling back knowingly.
One month after John Hastings' death. Dr. Hansom had lost his faithful little wife. It was a real sorrow to the great preacher, for not many women were to be found with a character so suited to meet all his requirements in a wife. After her death, he was a very frequent visitor at the old Hastings house. Gradually it dawned upon him that the mild, gentle Emily Hastings had a temperament most wonderfully like the dear woman he had lost. She was so unaggressive, so gentle, so adoringly submissive to whomsoever she loved. She would make a fine minister's wife.
It didn't take Dr. Hansom long to make up his mind. He doubled his attentions and visits, keeping silence, however, until the proper time had elapsed.
And now the wonderful hour had come.
It seemed an impossible joy laid at Emily Hastings' feet.
"If only your dear father could know!" she exclaimed, looking young in her new happiness.
"He does," returned Venna softly. "He knows all that happens to us," she added with a sudden pang at the thought of her own trouble.
"But, dearie. Dr. Hansom wishes us to marry very soon—of course, it will be a very quiet wedding. Do you think it is too soon?"
"No," returned Venna, lovingly patting her aunt's cheek. "The sooner you are made happy the better. I shall certainly hurry you off!"
"O Venna, if you were not married, I would never leave you. But now you have such a perfect husband, and he must give up his traveling when I go. I wouldn't have you lonesome for the world. Of course, we'll see one another all the time, but it won't seem just like living together, will it?"
Looking around the old familiar room her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"Every rose has its thorn, but let's forget the sting and think only of the joy of it all," replied Venna, bravely choking back a sob.
There is a time in every girl's life when she finds herself suddenly a woman. The time of this change from girlhood to womanhood is not marked by the marriage ceremony. No, the period of happy girlhood extends to that time when some sharp experience awakens her soul to the realities of life. Then the illusions vanish and the woman in her lives. Not less capable of joy does she become, but absolutely and forever lost to the fantastic, unreal dreams of early youth.
Venna's awakening came simultaneously with her aunt's rejuvenating engagement announcement, which occurred one week after Dr. Hansom's proposal.
As soon as Hadly returned, Venna lost no time in asking him for an explanation of Miss Hedgeway's visit.
At first he denied knowing the woman, but his nervousness convinced his wife that he was not telling the truth.
"Will," she said, suddenly indignant, "if you do not tell me the truth, I shall find it out myself. What is this woman to you?"
He had never seen scorn in her eyes before and it was confoundedly unpleasant. Quickly he decided there was only one way—to make a clean breast of it.
"Yes, Venna," he said, frankly, "I have lied to you,—because I didn't like to destroy your innocent trust in me. She'snothingto me now, but shewasan escapade of the past. I treated her fair enough—she always had money of her own—never wanted for anything. I didn't deceive her—she went into it with her eyes open like all those women do—I never deceivedanywoman. It was just a case of give and take. She's meaner than I thought to rake up a man's past before his wife's eyes. As a rule, they don't do that sort of thing."
He paused for a moment, but Venna made no remark. She was earnestly listening to his every word.
"Now, my dear," he continued more confidently, "you have, of course, always been sheltered so by your father, that you are ignorant of life in many respects. Please don't think your husband a monstrosity. I'm no better than the next man—no worse, either. I've lived in the world, seen all sides of it, too, but that is why I am all the more able to appreciate a girl like you—by contrast, you know, dear."
"I suppose, then, there were other women, too?" Venna demanded in a sharp, unnatural voice.
"Don't use that tone, Venna," he said impatiently. "It isn't like you. It's not becoming. Yes, I'll treat you fair and hide nothing. My extreme youth was rather wild, but that's all past now. From the day I first called upon you, I've led a clean, straight life—that was my duty toward you."
Venna gave a hard little laugh.
"What about your duty toward the other women?" she asked coldly.
"I don't understand you," he replied angrily. "If you are going to play censor with me, young lady, you have the wrong party. I've been frank with you, which every man is not, and you return it with rudeness."
Without a word Venna quietly arose and left the room.
"Well, if women aren't incorrigible!" he exclaimed in disgust, lighting a cigarette to calm his perturbed thoughts.
Venna sought her own room, dismayed at her state of mind. She felt as though some one had roughly shaken her and awakened her from the dream of one world to the stern realities of another.
With the awakening came an alarming disgust and hatred for her husband. She stood alone, reasoning, struggling with her new thoughts. Her ideas, at first confused, began to shape themselves definitely and bitterly. Three hours later she came from her room, a pale, determined woman.
When she calmly informed Hadly that from then on they would be as entire strangers, his first sensation of genuine surprise gave way to angry fear.
"You're not going to make fools of both of us, are you? What on earth are you making such a fuss about? Are you looking for a divorce? You can't get one. I'll tell you that right now. And your business affairs are tight in my hands, so don't try to betooindependent."
"You refuse to let me go?" asked Venna, pale but unwavering.
"You can go anywhere and everywhere you please," he returned with sarcasm. "Considering what a loving wife you've been, the parting of the ways will not be so difficult to bear. But I warn you, if you make a fool of me in society by repeating this foolish gossip—even to your aunt—it won't go easy with you."
"Never fear," returned Venna bitterly. "No one shall suffer but myself. It is plain to be seen you will not. I shall leave town for the summer as soon as aunt is married, in a few weeks. As to money matters my lawyer will consult you."
Venna ostensibly busied herself with her aunt's rushed preparations for her quiet wedding, and Hadly found occasion to disappear on another business trip.
With the advent of her womanhood, came the power to smile and laugh with a breaking heart, and to hide from all her friends her sadness and trial.
The heart of a girl is easily read, but the heart of a woman is a hidden mystery.
Just be glad that you are living and keep cheering someone on.
Venna sat alone at lunch, idly toying with her food. Stella busied herself around her mistress, offering first one thing and then another, with real concern in her honest face.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but you've hardly eaten anything since your aunt went away. You're right pale, you are."
"Am I?" returned Venna with a feeble smile. "I guess I must be going to the country soon. The fresh air makes me hungry."
"It's a warm day now, ma'am. John says, don't you want to use the car this afternoon?" Stella ventured anxiously.
"No, Stella, I don't want to go out today," she replied dully. "I don't think I care for any lunch either. You fixed everything so nice, too. I'll try to do better next time."
She arose from the table and was about to leave the room when she turned at the door.
"Stella, if anyone comes, remember I'm out—unless it's Mrs. Halloway. She wrote she would be home from the West any day. I'll seeher."
"All right, ma'am."
But Stella shook her head as Venna disappeared.
"There's something wrong somewhere," she said to herself sadly. "She looks like a wilted flower. It's a dull old house with her father dead, her aunt married, and her husband traveling. But that doesn't account for her looking as though life was all entirely over, the poor dear!"
Venna went to her room and threw herself upon her couch in real despair.
Two weeks ago her aunt left the old home, a happy but tearful bride. Venna played her role, and smiled gaily until the time of parting was over, when she found herself alone with the servants in the once happy home of her girlhood. That was two weeks ago. It seemed like two years.
Her aunt's wedding trip was to be a joyous extended affair—she probably would be away three months.
Hadly had not returned. He had written Venna twice—polite, cynical letters, in which he assured her he would not return to the city until she was pleasantly located elsewhere for the summer. Would she inform him of her absence.
It seemed to Venna her whole life had collapsed. She saw nothing ahead of her but a sham existence, constantly scheming to hide the reality of her empty existence from her aunt and others. The fear of gossip among her friends worried her equally as much as the desire not to pain her aunt. Each day she sat in her room, thinking and perplexing herself with the thought of her future. Where could she go in the summer, alone—without society asking questions?
Oh, how she longed for Daddy, and the old times of freedom and light-heartedness. Every night she cried herself to sleep with Daddy upon her lips.
But there came no answer. Only a blank silence, bringing the reality of death's destruction to all hope and love. Some nights Venna couldn't sleep. She would lie with eyes wide open, praying God that she might die, too. But her prayer was a vague murmuring and God seemed very far off.
How she longed for some vital religion! The uncertain teachings of her childhood and girlhood did not help her in her despondency. She always had cherished the thought that her mother's spirit hovered near to her—there had been times when she felt her presence. Why did she not have that consolation now? She found no answer. She only knew that within her troubled heart, faith was at a very low ebb.
Today was a little harder than usual. A dull heavy atmosphere without did not tend to cheer. "If only the sun would shine! Anything, anything to lift this morbid, overpowering depression!"
As if in answer to her heart's cry, a cheery voice called outside her door,
"Venna! Venna! Let me in! I couldn't wait for you to come down. Open the door, dear, quick?"
Venna started with sudden heart-beating. Anna Halloway! Her school chum of happy days! Bright, joyous Anna!
One moment and the door was opened and Venna found herself sobbing hysterically in her friend's arms.
In surprise Anna hugged her close, and caressed her curls.
"Why, Venna dear, what is the matter? I expected to find my little bride all smiles. Oh, it's so good to see you after two long years. But not like this! What on earth troubles you?"
Venna did not immediately answer, but after Anna had calmed her with loving assurances, she said with a tired little smile, "O Anna, I've been so lonely. I believe God sent you right to me, you dear, cheerful thing! So much has happened to me since you went West."
"Tell me all about it," said Anna, still encircling her arms around Venna, as they sat down upon the couch.
So Venna, hungry for sympathy, laid bare her heart, as she never thought it possible for her to do.
Anna drew from her everything, though at times the confidence came in broken, timid sentences.
"So you see, Anna, what a failure my life has been," she concluded piteously.
Anna laughed.
"You little goose! Your first trials have knocked you right down and out, haven't they? I appreciate your position, dear, but I'll have you all smiles again, very soon. You need a strong, vital faith, dearie— something to lift you right up and keep you there."
"Yes, I know I need faith. I reallylongfor it. But where and how are we to get it these days? And you, Anna—you were always so skeptical about religion?"
"Yes, I know I was, but I'm not now. I learned Christian Science since I saw you, dear. Oh, it's just wonderful, Venna. It will lift you out ofanything."
"Christian Science? I always thought that more visionary than anything else, Anna."
"You don't understand it, dear. Of course, you'll say I have had no trials yet. That's true, but I'm ready for them. I know just how to meet them."
Anna Halloway was round, rosy and radiant—one of that type of healthy, practical womanhood, that imparts a glow to other natures by its warmth and dynamic force. She could not fully appreciate a nature as refined and aspiring as Venna's. On the other hand, Venna's receptive mind drew in gladly the joy of Anna's nature, and her thirsty soul was for the time refreshed.
"In the first place, Venna dear, you must get those ugly thoughts about your husband right out of your mind. You must think well of him—give him your best thoughts, as we say. Then you'll influence him for good."
"But, Anna, how can I think well of him when he married me after such a past? That was unfair to me."
"And you married him without loving him. Weren't you unfair to him? You gave him next to nothing. Now, dear, I'm going to be terribly frank with you, but there is no other way to bring you to your normal senses. I don't suppose you realize that you have led a very selfish life? Now don't feel hurt, dear.Youcouldn't help it. You've been loved and flattered ever since you were born. You've never sacrificed anything for anyone outside of Venna Hastings or Venna Hadly, have you? Now, dear, you have an unselfish nature.Iknow that,—but you've never used it. You have just received, received, received. Now just change your position in the bank and be paying teller for awhile."
"I suppose," Venna said reflectively, "if I had gone on with my settlement work, itwouldhave helped."
"It wouldn't at all," exclaimed Anna, decisively. "The way we society women take up settlement work doesn't require any particular sacrifice. It's a novelty, a pleasure, a sort of 'satisfy conscience' relaxation. What you need now is to get out ofyourself. Make a real sacrifice for some one who needs it—for instance, your husband."
"You mean I should live with him?" asked Venna, in sudden consternation.
Anna was momentarily taken back by the strength of the opposition.
"I would," she answered, seriously. "In your place, I would say to myself, 'He cheated me, I cheated him. That's equal. Now we'll make the best of life and help one another.' You know, Venna dear, the average man is no better than Hadly. It wasn'thisfault that you were brought up with your eyes shut, was it? Why hate him any more than any one else? Be fair, Venna. He has arightto be well thought of in other respects."
Venna shook her head sadly.
"Yes, I sinned when I married without love. I see that now. But I never could love a man who looks upon his past impurity as a matter of course. So if I never could love him, where is the logic in remaining his wife?"
"Couldn't you pity him enough to let love creep in?" urged Anna.
"One can't love to order," returned Venna sadly.
"Well, if you can't, you can't," concluded Anna, giving up a hopeless case. "But at least, you won't hate him and treat him with scorn."
"No, Anna, I see where I'm not much better in many respects. You've opened my eyes to my own injustice. I'll try not to hate him, and—yes, it has been all self. I see it now."
"It is always self with us girls until we are mothers. Venna, I never woke up myself until—O, can't you guess, Venna? I have a wonderful surprise for you!" And she hugged Venna impulsively.
"You don't mean," began Venna, disentangling herself.
"Yes, I do mean!" interrupted Anna. "I'm the happy mother of a bouncing girlie six months old! I kept it as a surprise. She's such a darling, Venna!"
"I'm so glad for you, Anna. It must be a wonderful happiness to be a mother," she added wistfully.
"There, dear! I'm going to show you how to mother the whole world! No sad thoughts now. I think only of cheerful things. I'll have you the same old bright dear in no time. You shall spend the whole summer with me—we are going for six months, to a quiet little country place because of baby—where the air is fine and I can give my whole attention to her. Why, I hate the servants to even touch her! I'll letyouthough, and won't she make you laugh again! You'll forget what sadness is. You will go with us, won't you, dear?"
"Oh, how I would love to! Indeed I will!" exclaimed Venna, brightening. "God is good after all. He always finds us a way."
"Of course He's good, Venna, and gives us all Good. It is only our foolish mortal minds that imagine evil."
Venna did not understand what Anna meant, but she thanked God in her heart for sending her friend and with her the sunshine.
Under the influence of spring, sunshine and flowers, our souls give birth to new thoughts, new ambitions.
The little village store in Ashfield was buzzing. It was mail-time and the good wife of the proprietor, the post-master and mayor—in other words, the wife of the chief all-round citizen, was sorting and pigeon-holing the mail.
Around the store waited a goodly representation of the neighborhood—long, lanky workmen; fat, prosperous home-dwellers who "worked in the city," dirty little urchins with sticky hands, and pretty young girls stylishly dressed.
Quite a congregation of "American mixed," but the buzzing gave an air of congeniality which lent the impression of true democracy so typified in a Jersey village.
One young girl with roguish blue eyes sauntered up to a thin, neatly dressed elderly man, who was watching the group with a friendly smile.
"Have yer called on the new people yet, Mr. Allworth? There's a dandy young lady in the bunch. Don't let Pastor Soffy get ahead of you. We want her inourChurch."
Her tone was loud enough to attract attention, and the majority suspended their buzzing.
The Methodist minister answered in a clerical tone,
"My dear Miss Bessie, I would never strive for members for our Church. Call I certainly shall, but not with the intention of robbing Mr. Soffy."
"Oh, fudge!" exclaimed Bessie, laughing, "everyone knows you'll both scramble for them!"
At this there was a general laugh, at which Mr. Allworth colored furiously.
It was plain to be seen Bessie was a privileged character.
"Stop your joshing, Bessie!" exclaimed the wife of the post-master, proprietor, and mayor. "Here's a letter for the new people. You take it up the road to them, and that'll get you acquainted."
"Sure I will!" returned Bessie with enthusiasm. "Dandy! I'll prepare the way for you, Mr. Allworth, and see that they don't get any Presbyterian ideas ahead of time!"
Mr. Allworth smiled and nodded his head.
"Yer won't git those new people and don't yer fergit it!" piped up one dirty little bare-legged urchin, sidling up to Bessie. "I spent two hours helping them clear up the lawn. Gosh! They're darn swell, all righty! Gave me a fifty. What do yer think o' that? Fifty in two hours, eh, boss?"
"Boss" shoved the ten-year old aside kindly.
"Out o' the way, Bud! Let me get behind that counter, will you? Go home and tell your mother you need sewing up. What do you know about the new people?" he asked, eyeing Bud whimsically, while he delved into the sugar tin.
"Whole lot, all righty! I told 'em I pumped the organ in Mr. Soffy's church, and ast them would they like ter see me."
The buzzing had completely stopped and all hands were at attention.
"And they said?" asked Boss Holden.
Bud swelled with the importance of delivering town news.
"They ast me what kind o' Church it was. I says, 'Sure, the kind yer pray in. What d' yer think?'"
"Good boy!" laughed Boss Holden, "And then?"
"They just laughed as though they had no sense, and guessed their kind o' Church waren't in these parts. I up and ast them what kind o' Church they wanted and they said 'Scientific.'"
"Bud, that thar waren't right nohow," spoke up John, colored chauffeur to the two rich old maids on the hill. "I heard Pastor Soffy tell my missus they war "Christian Scientissus."
"Christian Scientists!" exclaimed Mr. Allworth with dignified disapproval. "What next will come into our little town!"
"Well, I'm going to take the letter up anyway," declared Bessie. "Good-bye. I'll do my best for you, Mr. Allworth," and with this parting shot she was gone.
Up the hill walked Bessie, round, fair and rosy, with her laughing blue eyes vieing merriment with her dimpled cheeks.
Half way up the hill, she stopped at a large "homey" white house which stood about fifty feet back from the road. Its broad piazzas were simply furnished with chairs, tables, and plants, all arranged for convenience and comfort.
Bessie tripped up the few steps leading to the front door and rang the bell.
The object of her admiration, the young lady with the light brown curls, opened the door.
"Here's a letter for a Mrs. Hadly," said Bessie in her most friendly voice. "Will you please give it to her?"
"Thank you.Iam Mrs. Hadly. Won't you come in?"
Venna thought she would like to talk to this pretty young country girl. Everything and everyone seemed so new and interesting—so different to what she had been accustomed to in fashionable summer resorts.
Bessie was ready to accept the invitation.
"Yes, I would like to come in and get acquainted," she said frankly.
As she followed Venna into the large, cool living room, she felt a little disappointed at the thought of this fascinating city girl being married.
"It'll spoil all the fun," she decided.
"Do sit down," said Venna kindly as she seated herself. "So you are one of the young ladies of the village? Do tell me a little about the life here. It is all so new to me and my friend, too."
"Your friend? The lady with the baby?" asked Bessie.
"Yes, we are going to live here together. Mr. and Mrs. Halloway, baby, and myself and maids, for six months."
"Oh, then you're just summer people," said Bessie, disappointed again.
"Yes, my home is in New York. But six months is a long, long time," she added, smiling. She was amused at the open, admiring gaze of her visitor.
"I guess you'll have enough of it before six months is out. City people don't care much for Ashfield—that is, unless they stay and get used to it."
"Is it so very unpleasant here then?" asked Venna.
"Mercy, no!" exclaimed Bessie, ready to defend her own home town. "It's a dandy place when you're right in with everything. The summer people always stay on the outside—just look on, yer know, and of course it's awful slow compared to city life, and just being on the outside makes it slower."
"Yes, I understand. To like country life, one must know everyone for miles around," remarked Venna.
"Exactly, I don't suppose you'll want to do that, though," Bessie returned with hesitation.
"Not quite—as we don't expect to stay. But I won't remain on the 'outside' while I'm here. This life will be too interesting to me to ignore it. Tell me, what is the most important diversion in Ashfield?"
"Going to Church, I guess—or, the movies over in Ellenville," replied Bessie.
Venna laughed.
"Which do you like best?" she asked.
"Oh, I like both. The Church has lots of fun, though—always something going on. Which Church do you think you will like?"
"I don't know. There are two, aren't there? How did there ever happen to be more than one in this little place?"
"It was just this way," explained Bessie, pleased to give village history: "At one time, there was only one, the Methodist. But some of the members quarreled with the minister and left to start a church of their own. Just for spite they built it right opposite to ours, and they became Presbyterians. Kind o' mean, wasn't it? Of course, that was long ago. Since then the people have become friendly and the ministers exchange calls, but when anyone new comes to town, they both scramble for a new member. Has Mr. Soffy called yet?"
"No, but I expect him this afternoon. He met Mr. Halloway and asked if he might call today."
"There! I knew it!" exclaimed Bessie. "He always gets there first. I guess anyway you'll like Mr. Soffy and his Church best. Most city people do."
"Why so?"
"Well, you see Mr. Allworth is a plain country minister—never been anything else. You'll find him helping his wife do the wash, or feeding the chickens, or gossiping at the store, when he ought to be out making calls. Mr. Soffy is a young man who has worked his way through college and knows a lot about the new ideas that take well. And somehow he's always there first, and gets the city folks."
"He must be quite an interesting young man," returned Venna, amused at the queer little village and its doings. "I suppose he feels very important and popular."
"Well, hardly either," returned Bessie. "He seems very humble, considering how smart he is. And popular? Most of the people, especially the men, don't like him at all. Some don't like the way the old ladies on the hill fuss over him. They call him a 'molly' for letting them. You know he lives with the two Miss Haskells, and they fairly dote on him. It's 'Soffy here' and 'Soffy there' until one does get rather tired of it. ButIlike him. I think it's jealousy that makes him disliked. You see people here don't take to those who know a lot more than themselves. Mr. Allworth takes more with the country people."
"It must be rather a hard position for Mr. Soffy," said Venna with ready sympathy. "It's very discouraging to fight against prejudice."
"It certainly is," agreed Bessie. "But I hope you'll come toourChurch. We need a few up-to-date people to liven things up a bit."
"Well, my dear, I certainly will attend both Churches sometimes—then no one will feel hurt."
"Oh, thank you. That's a fair, square deal."
"Of course, I won't join any; but while I'm here, I'm sure I would enjoy a simple country church. I don't know about Mrs. Halloway, however, she is a Christian Scientist."
"Then you are not?" asked Bessie delighted, vaguely imagining Christian Scientists belonged to some queer species.
"No, not exactly," returned Venna quietly. "But Christian Science has many beautiful beliefs that help one to live a better life."
"Is that so?" asked Bessie curiously. "Sometime will you tell me all about it?"
"Mrs. Halloway can do that better than I can. I know she would like to. You must call again when she is in."
There was a pause in the conversation and Bessie decided it wouldn't do to stay too long the first time.
"I will call again, thank you," she replied, as she arose to go. "Thank you very much for saying you'll come to our church."
As Venna stood on the porch watching Bessie go up the hill, the warmth and glow of the beautiful May day seemed to thrill her whole being. The air was laden with the scent of apple-blossoms, and the fresh green of the trees and grass invited one to new thoughts and a new life.
When Bessie reached the top of the hill she turned and waved her hand. Venna waved back.
"How friendly and primitive it all is!" was Venna's pleased thought. "That bright, happy face—it seems it ought to be easy to live Christian Science here."
Certainly Anna Halloway had done wonders for Venna. Whether Christian Science or Anna's personal influence played the greater part in taking Venna out of her depths, it would be hard to determine. Both, however, played important parts. A few weeks had brought to Venna the determination to think only of happy things and service to others. She was learning the lesson of looking "up" and not "down," "out" and not "in," and to a nature so naturally bright as hers, it was not a very difficult task. Hadly did not annoy her at all. Since she came to Ashfield one week ago, she received a formal letter from him, stating his return to New York and asking her to write if she desired anything at his hands. Nothing could be more cooly polite.
"Poor Hadly! He certainly is acting his very best under the circumstances," she decided, and she gave him her "best thoughts," as Anna entreated her to do.
Just before Bessie came, she had been wondering what she could do in this little village to make more happiness for someone.
The whole six months in Anna's cheerful company would give her time to recover herself and lay plans for a useful future, but busy she must be wherever she was, or her despondency might return. Bessie's visit gave her a sudden happy thought. Why not interest herself in the girls of the village? The Church and the movies! Was that all they had?
She seated herself in a low wicker porch chair to read her letter from Aunt Emily.
"Detroit, Wednesday."Venna Dearest:
"Just a line to let you know Dr. Hansom and I are both well and enjoying our trip so very much. Detroit gave us a wonderful welcome. Somehow they found out we were here, and one of the Churches gave us a big dinner. I wish you could have heard him speak! He was so earnest and yet so witty at times! How proud I was of him! Dearie, how thankful we ought both to be that we have such excellent husbands and are so happy! How glad your dear father would be! I suppose your good Hadly commutes to Ashfield. Or is he too busy? You must find it much pleasure to be with Anna again, though I'm surprised you would choose a dead little country place. Don't you think it may be very monotonous for you? Surely you will find very few of your class there.
"Well, dearie, whatever makes you happy, of course, do. I suppose you are beginning to realize Hadly is all that is necessary for your happiness.
"Dr. Hansom has received so many earnest requests to preach in Western cities, that we may spend the entire summer touring and satisfying the demand for his preaching.
"In spite of all my new happiness, I miss you so, dearie. Do write constantly. Give my love to Anna and Hadly.
"I am anxious to see that precious baby. Perhaps one day there will be one more precious you can show me.
"By-bye, dear girlie.
"Your loving Aunt Emily."
As Venna finished the letter, her face saddened and she lost herself in thoughts of the past and what might have been. But she quickly drew herself together.
"This is not Christian Science!" she declared to herself. "Away with such thoughts and enter sunshine, flowers, spring-time!"
"Good afternoon," said a pleasant, full-toned man's voice, and Venna looked up to see Mr. Soffy enter her gate. She knew him because Halloway had pointed him out as one of the main objects of interest.
"Good afternoon," she returned, rising and taking in his pleasant personality at a glance.
Mr. Soffy was medium height, rather fleshy, with dark, wavy hair above a broad, large-featured face, from which looked out dreamy, dark eyes. His smile was particularly frank and broad, showing white, even teeth between full, sensuous lips.
A few pleasantries were exchanged as they entered the house and the living room.
"It is a great pleasure for me to meet you," began Mr. Soffy, taking in with delight the beauty and brightness of this new comer. "Every little while, some city people will wander out here and it is so refreshing to meet them."
"How strange!" said Venna, smiling. "I find the country people so refreshing. Such a bright, rosy, blue-eyed girl has just called. She seemed to bring a breath of spring with her."
"Yes? Oh, I've no doubt that was Bessie, a winsome Methodist girl. Pretty, isn't she? All the country boys are wild over her, but she declares she'll marry a city chap or none."
"She might do better right here," said Venna seriously.
"Yes, that's very true. I'm a city man myself, and I think the men of the simple life compare very favorably with the men of the city's whirl. But if you like country people, you'll meet all your heart can desire. As soon as they know you've settled, and Bessie will quickly report—all the ladies in the village will call, so prepare for a siege!"
"Will they?" asked Venna, smiling. "Mrs. Halloway and I must be prepared."
"No preparation necessary," replied Mr. Soffy, laughing. "They would rather take you unaware, and if anyone calls when you're washing, they would like nothing better than to come in the back way, seating themselves in the kitchen with a 'Never mind, my dear, go right on. We can get just as well acquainted, and you getting your work done.'"
Venna laughed with real amusement.
"Are they really so informal?"
"Yes, indeed; Primitive with a capital P. But I don't suppose you ever do such a thing as wash?"
"I must confess my ignorance in that line," returned Venna.
Mr. Soffy smiled understandingly. "I hope you will come out to our little Church sometimes?"
"Yes, I told Bessie I would divide my attentions between the two Churches."
"You have no choice then between the Methodist and the Presbyterian?"
"Hardly; I can't honestly say I have found any Church to satisfy me yet. Every denomination has so many inconsistencies. I love my Bible, and it doesn't seem to me that any of you fully follow Christ's teachings."
"To be frank with you," returned Mr. Soffy, contracting his brows thoughtfully, "I don't think any of us do. The Churches have accumulated the errors of ages. I wish personally we could throw off a lot of waste material. But the people have to be dealt with gradually. It's like operating on a diseased body. One part must be cut at a time or the patient would lose his life from shock."
"I can't agree with you," returned Venna earnestly. "Why should you preach error and intensify the disease?"
"Well—no—maybe not," returned Mr. Soffy with hesitation. "I never thought of it in just that light. It's very hard to know how to handle a congregation of church-goers today. They are full of prejudice, 'mother told me so' doctrines, and unless something new is startlingly attractive, out goes the preacher if he dares to introduce it. What wouldyoudo?" he asked with a look of open admiration.
Venna answered without hesitation.
"What wouldIdo? If I were a preacher, I would study and pray hard to find the truth. And whatever I found, I would preach to my people, regardless of anyone's opinions or the keeping of my position.Youregard truth as a knife that cuts away diseased parts one at a time. So you use it carefully.Iregard truth as a healing stream that should flow freely at all times to heal the diseases of our minds."
Mr. Soffy's dark eyes reflected her enthusiasm.
"Wonderfully said!" he exclaimed. "If I had a few like you in my church, I would have the courage to do as you say."
"Courage comes from God, Mr. Soffy, not from man," returned Venna softly.
There was a moment's silence in which Mr. Soffy eyed Venna keenly as if to read her very soul.
"Are you a Christian Scientist?" he asked.
"Not exactly," replied Venna. "Mrs. Halloway is trying to make me one. I live by many of their principles. There is so much beauty in some of their ideas. But I must believe in the Personality of God. I can't see how they do away with it. When Stephen was being stoned to death, the heavens opened before him, and he saw the Christ sitting on the right hand of God. Now, if we believe in the inspiration of the Bible, how can we accept this vision without the belief in God's personality? There are many more verses in scripture which declare that truth also. I must believe all the Bible or none. There is no logic in accepting just those parts that we desire to accept. That is why all the Churches differ. They don't really accept the Bible as God's word. They often say they do, but if they really did, beliefs would be founded on the fullness of its teachings and not on man's opinions. Not only this, but when I have been in my greatest sorrows, I have longed for a personal God who understands. Religion wouldn't mean anything to me without the Personality of a Divine Father."
"I think you'd better take my pulpit, Mrs. Hadly," said Mr. Soffy smiling. "You have more decision of thought than myself."
"Oh, don't say that!" replied Venna. "I don't want to give the impression of sureness. Indeed, a few points I have decided, but the greater truths I am still seeking and praying for. I am very much at sea."
"Then keep on praying and remember the verse in the Bible you are so sure is inspired. 'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.'"
Venna's eyes shone. "How often I have repeated that verse! Yes, I believe it, too. I am waiting for greater light on many things. I'm sure God will give it."
"But you must let go of prejudice to be in a condition to receive new ideas," returned Mr. Soffy. "I have thrown tradition to the winds, and find it easy to broaden out, but my congregation would be more than astounded if I told them all my ideas."
"I hope you will tell me many of them, Mr. Soffy. I like to hear new thoughts, but I always sift them well before I give them precedence over the old."
"Indeed, it will be a pleasure to discuss with a mind like yours," returned he with his broadest smile. "I hope you will permit me to call often. I must go now, however, for I promised to address the woman's club this afternoon. Perhaps next time I come, it will be in the evening, that I might meet Mr. Hadly, too. He commutes with Mr. Halloway?"
Venna dropped her eyes and colored noticeably.
"No, Mr. Hadly will not be in Ashfield—for a time. He is very busy in the city."
Mr. Soffy was quick to detect her confusion, but, making no further remark concerning her husband, he said good-bye with a firm pressure of her hand in his.
"Remember, Mrs. Hadly, I am always at your service. Do not hesitate to call upon me."
After he had gone, Venna attempted to read without success. The words before her seemed meaningless. Against her will she was comparing Hadly and this young minister. The comparison was unfavorable to her husband.
"What a personality!" she said to herself, thinking of the young minister and letting her imagination build a character for him that was exceptional. "Why did not my life bring me to a man like him when I was free? Yet probably I could never have loved him. I can't really imagine myself being in love and why?"