Interrupted

by Pansy

  CHAPTER XII.

  LOGIC AND LABOR.

  THE young man thus addressed gave over fingering the piano-keys, ashe had been softly doing from time to time, whirled about on themusic-stool, and indulged in a prolonged and curious stare at hisquestioner.

  "I beg your pardon," he said at last, with a little laugh, as herecognized the rudeness of the proceeding; "I am struck dumb, I think.In all my previous extended experience no more astonishing query hasever been put to me. I don't know how to take it."

  "Won't you simply answer it?"

  "Why, it is too astonishing to me that the thing requires an answer!I don't believe I even know what it is to be the sort of character towhich you refer."

  "Then, am I to understand that you don't know but you may be one?"

  The young man laughed again, a slightly embarrassed laugh, and gavehis visitor a swift, penetrating glance, as if he would like to knowwhether she was playing a part; then finding that she waited, he said:

  "Oh, not at all! In fact, I may say I am very certain that I don'tbelong to the class in question, even in name."

  "May I ask you why?"

  "Why!" He repeated the word. There was something very bewildering andembarrassing about these short, direct, simply-put questions. He hadnever heard them before. "Really, that is harder to answer than thefirst. What is it to be a Christian, Miss Benedict?"

  "It is to love the Lord Jesus Christ with a love that places his honorand his cause and his commands first, and all else secondary."

  "Who does it?"

  "He knows. Perhaps there are many. Why are not you one?"

  He dropped his eyes now, but answered lightly:

  "Hard to tell. I have never given the matter sufficiently seriousthought to be able to witness in the case."

  "But is that reply worthy of a reasoning being? Won't you be frankabout the matter, Mr. Ansted? I don't mean to preach, and I did notintend to be offensively personal. I was thinking this afternoon howstrange it was that so many well-educated, reasoning young men leftthis subject outside, and were apparently indifferent to it, thoughthey professed to believe in the story of the Bible; and I wonderedwhy it was: what process of reasoning brought them to such a position.Will you tell me about it? How do young men, who are intelligent, whoaccept the Bible as a standard of morals by which the world ought to begoverned, who respect the church and think it ought to be supported,reason about their individual positions as outsiders? They do not standoutside of political questions where they have a settled opinion; whydo they in this?"

  "I don't know," he answered at last. "The majority of them, perhaps,never give it a thought; with others the claims which the church makesare too squarely in contact with pre-arranged plans of life; andnone of them more than half believe in religion as exhibited in theevery-day lives about them."

  "Have you given me your reason for being outside, Mr. Ansted?"

  "Why, yes, I suppose so; that is, so far as I can be said to have areason. I don't reason about these matters."

  "Will you tell me which one of the three reasons you gave is yours?"

  "Were you educated for the bar, Miss Benedict? Since you press me, Imust say that a mixture of all three might be found revolving about myinner consciousness. I rarely trouble myself with the subject. That isfoolish. I suppose; but it is really no more foolish than I am aboutmany things. Then so far as I may be said to have plans, what littleI know of the Bible is dreadfully opposed to the most of them, and,well, I don't more than one third believe in any of the professionswhich are being lived about me."

  "But you believe in the Bible?"

  "Oh, I believe it is a fine old book, which has some grand reading init, and some that is very dull, and I know as little about it as themajority of men and women."

  "Oh, then let me put the question a little differently: Do you believein Jesus Christ?"

  "Believe in him!"

  "Yes, as one who once lived in person on this earth, and died on across, and went back to heaven, and is to come again at some futuretime?"

  "Oh, yes; I have no particular reason for doubting prophecy or historyon those points. I'm rather inclined to think the whole story is true."

  "Do you think his character worthy of admiration?"

  "Oh, yes, of course; it is a remarkable character. Even infidelsconcede that, you know; and I am no infidel. Bob Ingersoll and hisfollies have no charm for me. I have had that disease, Miss Benedict;like the measles and whooping-cough, it belongs to a certain periodof life, you know, and I am past that. I had it in a very mild form,however, and it left no trace. The fellow's logic has nothing to standon."

  She ignored the entire sentence, save the first two words. She had notthe slightest desire to talk about Bob Ingersoll, or to let this gayyoung man explain some of Bob's weak mistakes, and laugh with her overhis want of historic knowledge. She went straight to the centre of thesubject:

  "Then, Mr Ansted, won't you join his army, and come over and help us?"

  Nothing had ever struck the brilliant young man as being moreembarrassing than this simple question, with a pair of earnest eyeswaiting for his answer. It would not do to be merrily stupid andpretend to misunderstand her question, as he at first meditated, andask her whether she really wanted him to join Ingersoll's army. Hergrave eyes were fixed on his face too searchingly for that. There wasnothing for it but to flit behind one of his flimsy reasons:

  "Really, Miss Benedict, there are already enough recruits of the sortthat I should make. When I find a Christian man whom I can admire withall my heart--instead of seeing things in him every day that even I,with my limited knowledge, know to be contrary to his orders--I mayperhaps give the matter consideration, but, in my opinion, the army istoo large now."

  "But you told me you admired Jesus Christ. I do not ask you to be likeany other person--to act in any sense like any other person whom youever saw or of whom you ever heard. Will you copy him, Mr. Ansted?"

  There was no help for it; there must be a direct answer; she waswaiting.

  "I do not suppose I will." This was his reply, but the air of gayetywith which he had been speaking was gone. You might almost haveimagined that he was ashamed of the words.

  "Won't you please tell me why?"

  Was there ever a man under such a direct fire of personal questionshard to answer? Banter would not do. There was something in the faceand voice of the questioner which made him feel that it would be apersonal insult to reply other than seriously.

  "There are insurmountable difficulties in the way," he said at last,speaking in a low, grave tone.

  "Difficulties too hard for God to surmount? You can not mean that?"

  But he did not explain what he meant, and at that moment he receiveda peremptory summons from his mother to the parlor. He arose at once,glad, apparently, of the interruption, but did not attempt to returnto the free and easy tone with which he had carried on part of theconversation, but bade her a grave and respectful good-night.

  Left alone, poor Claire could only sigh in a disappointed way; asusual, she had not said the words she meant to say, and she could butfeel that she had accomplished nothing. It had been her father's mottoto spend no time alone with a human being without learning whetherhe belonged to the army; and if not, making an effort to secure hisenlistment. Claire, looking on, had known more than one young man, andmiddle-aged man, and not a few children, who had reported in afterdays that a word from her father had been their starting-point. Sadly,she mourned, oftentimes, because she had not her father's tact andjudgment. It had seemed to her that this young man, with his handsomeface and his handsome fortune, ought to be won for Christ. Why did nothis mother win him, or his sister? Why did not she? She could but try;so she tried, and apparently had failed; and she was still so young aworker that she sighed, and felt discouraged, instead of being willingto drop the seed, and leave the results with God. She belonged to thatgreat company of seed-sowers who are very anxious to see the mysteriousprocesses that go on underground, with
which they have nothing whateverto do.

  The next day Claire went back to the Academy. Her twisted ankle wasstill to be petted and nursed, and the piano had to move from themusic-room to a vacant one next to Claire's own, and the chapel anddining-room did without her for a while, but the work of the day wasresumed, and went steadily forward.

  It was not without earnest protest that she left the home which hadopened so royally to receive her; and it is safe to say that everymember of the family missed her, none more than Alice, who had found arelief in her conversations from the _ennui_ and unrest which possessedher. Louis, too, had added his entreaties that the burdens of lifeat the Academy should not be assumed so soon, and evidently missedsomething from the home after her departure. It was when he was helpingher to the sleigh that he said:

  "You did not answer my question about the old church and your interestin it; may I call some evening, and get my answer?"

  "We shall be glad to see you at the Academy," she had replied,cordially, "but I can answer your question now. It is because it isthe church of Christ, and it is my duty to do for it in every way allthat I can."

  "But," he said, puzzled, "how is it that the church fathers, and, forthat matter, the church mothers, have let it get into such a wretchedstate of repair? Why haven't they a duty concerning it, rather than astranger in their midst?"

  "I did not say that they had not; but they don't have to report to me;the Head of the Church will see to that."

  Then Dennis, the Academy man-of-all-work, had taken the reins, whileLouis was in the act of tucking the robes more carefully about her, anddriven rapidly away.

  "It is queer how things work," Ruth Jennings said, as a party of thegirls gathered around their teacher to report progress. "There are adozen things that have had to lie idle, waiting for you. Why do yousuppose we had to be interrupted in our plans, and almost stand stilland do nothing, while you lay on a couch with a sprained ankle? I'msure we were doing nice things and right things, and we needed you,and it could do no possible good to anybody for you to lie and sufferup there for a week. I do say it looks sometimes as if things just_happened_ in this world, or else were managed by somebody who hatedthe world and every good plan that was made for it. Don't you reallythink that Satan has a good deal of control, Miss Benedict?"

  But there were reasons why Miss Benedict thought it would be aswell not to let her pupil wander off just then on a misty sea ofquestionings. As for herself, she had no doubt that the interruptionwas for some good end; it is true, she could not see the end, but shetrusted it.

  You are to remember that she had had her sharper lessons, beside whichall this was the merest child's play. Those girls could not possiblyknow how that awful "why" had tortured her through days and nightsuntil that memorable Sunday night when God gave her victory. Whatinterruptions had come to her! Father and fortune, and home, andlife-work, cut off in a moment; the whole current of her life changed;changed in ways that would not do even to hint to the girls; what wasa sprained ankle and a few days of inaction compared with these! Yettheir evident chafing over the loss of time opened her eyes to a newtruth. It seemed such a trivial thing to her, that she could scarcerestrain her lips from a smile over their folly in dwelling on it,until suddenly there dashed over her the thought:

  "What if, in the light of Heaven, my interruptions all seem as small asthis?"

  The interrupted work was now taken up with renewed energy, and indeedblossomed at once into new varieties.

  "What we must do next is to give a concert."

  This was the spark that the music-teacher threw into the midst of thegroup of girls who occupied various attitudes about her chair. It wasevening, and they were gathered in her room for a chat as to ways andmeans. Several days had passed, and the foot was so far recovered thatits owner promised it a walk down the church aisle on the followingSabbath, provided Dennis could arrange to have it taken to the door.It still, however, occupied a place of honor among the cushions, andClaire sat back in the depths of a great comfortable rocker that hadbeen brought from the parlor for her use.

  "A concert!" repeated Ruth, great dismay in her voice, "us?"

  "Yes, us."

  "Who would come?" This from Nettie.

  "Everybody will come after we are ready, if we have managed our part ofthe work well, and put our tickets low enough, and exerted ourselves tosell them. Oh, I don't mean _play_! I mean work! We would make readyfor a first-class entertainment. Let me see, are you not all my musicpupils? Yes, every one of you, either vocal or piano pupils. What ismore natural than to suppose that 'Miss Claire Benedict, assisted byher able and efficient class of pupils,' can 'give an entertainmentin the audience-room of the church,' etc? Isn't that the way theadvertisements head?"

  "For the benefit of the church?"

  But to this suggestion Miss Benedict promptly shook her head:

  "No, for the benefit of ourselves."