Interrupted

by Pansy

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  BUD IN SEARCH OF COMFORT.

  LET me tell you that sentences which you believe will be as Greek tocertain souls, are sometimes fraught with wonderful meaning, because ofan illumination about which you know nothing. It was so with Bud.

  Back in his memory of those bright days when little Jack was still inthe flesh, were certain scenes standing out vividly. Little Jack hada mother, a good, fat, motherly, commonplace sort of woman, with noknowledge of, or care for, Bud, beyond the fact that she wanted himalways to have enough to eat and a comfortable place in which to sleep,and was glad that little Jack liked him so well, simply because it wasa liking that gave little Jack pleasure. This was all that she wouldhave been to you; but to Bud she would have served for his ideal of anangel, had he known anything about angels.

  She was little Jack's mother, and she was motherly, and Bud had neverseen a motherly woman before; perhaps, after all, you get an idea ofwhy she was glorified in his eyes. His own mother slept in a neglectedgrave, when Bud was five years old, but after he came to live at littleJack's, he had lain awake nights to think how she would have looked,and acted, and spoken, had she been alive. And she always looked tohim like this one motherly pattern. How Bud longed for her, for thesound of her voice, for the touch of her hand, only he could havetold you. Little Jack had been in the habit of running to mother withevery disappointment, every grievance, every pain. He had never beena healthy, rollicking, self-reliant boy, but a gentle, tender one, tobe shielded and petted; and Bud had heard again and again and _again_these words, spoken oh! so tenderly, that the memory of them nowoften brought the tears: "Poor little Jack! mother will comfort him!"and the words were accompanied with a gesture that framed itself inBud's heart--the enveloping of little Jack's frail form within twostrong motherly arms, suggestive to the boy of boundless power andprotectiveness. Could words better fitted to meet Bud's heart have beenmarked in his Bible? Would Claire Benedict have been likely to havemarked that particular verse for him?

  It is a truth that a certain class of Christian workers need to ponderdeeply, that when we have done our best, according to the measure ofour opportunities, we may safely leave the Holy Spirit to supplementour work.

  The next morning, Bud thoughtfully rubbed the shining coats of thehorses, his mind awake and busy with a new problem. What did the versemean, that he had read so many times, that now it seemed to glow beforehim on the sun-lighted snow? He had wakened in the night and wondered.What _could_ it mean? Not that he did not understand some of it; hewas too unenlightened to imagine that plain words could mean other thanthey said.

  It had not so much as occurred to him that, because they were in theBible, they must necessarily have some obscure meaning utterly foreignto what they appeared to say.

  Such logic as that is only the privilege of certain of the educatedclasses! Bud knew then, what some of the sentence meant. Somebody wasto be comforted by somebody, and the way it was to be done was asa mother would do, and Bud, because of little Jack in heaven, knewhow that was. Oh, little Jack! living your short and uneventful lifehere below, and oh! commonplace, yes, somewhat narrow-minded mother!bestowing only the natural instincts of the mother-heart on yourboy--both of you were educating a soul for the King's palace, and youknew it not!

  How wonderful will the revelations of heaven be, when certain whoselives have touched for a few days and then separated, shall meet, insome of the cycles of eternity, and talk things over!

  Who but the Maker of human hearts could have planned Bud's education inthis way?

  Well, he knew another thing. The Comforter promised must be Jesus;for had not _she_, that only other one who had spoken to him indisinterested kindness, said that Jesus, the same Jesus who had beenso much to little Jack, was waiting for him, and wanted him to come upto heaven where Jack was? And if Jesus could do such great things forJack, and really wanted _him_ could he not plan the way? Bud believedit. To be shown the way to reach such a place as Jack told of, andto be made ready to enter there when he should reach the door, wouldcertainly be comfort enough. He could almost imagine that One sayingto the little hurts by the way: "Never mind, Bud; it will be all rightby and by." That was what the mother used cheerily to say sometimes tolittle Jack, and the verse read, "as one whom his mother comforteth."You see how the photographs of his earlier years were educating Bud.

  But there was one thing shrouded in obscurity. This "comforting" wasto be done at Jerusalem. Now what and where was Jerusalem? Poor Bud!he had "never had no book," you will remember, and his knowledge ofgeography was limited indeed. He knew that this village which hadalmost bounded his life was named South Plains; and he knew that backin the country among the farms was where little Jack had lived, andhe knew the name of the city that lay in the opposite direction; noneof these were Jerusalem. Bud did not know, however, but that the nextcity, or town, or even farming region might answer to that name, andmight be the spot to which those who would have comfort were directed.Little Jack might have lived there, for aught that he knew; they camefrom some other place to the farm, Miss Benedict might be from there,in which case she would know how to direct him! I want you to takespecial notice of one thing. It lay clear as sunlight in the boy'signorant mind. _To Jerusalem he meant to go._ And as to time: just assoon as he possibly could, he should start. As to how he should manageby the way, or what he should do after he reached that country, he madeno speculations; the road was too dark for that. All that he was sureof was that he would _start_.

  "I wouldn't miss of little Jack for anything," he said, rubbing withenergy; "and as for the 'comforting,' if that can be for me--and shesaid so--why, I'd go till I dropped, to find it."

  A clear voice broke in on his thoughts:

  "Bud, mamma wants the light carriage and the pony to be ready to takeher to the 12.20 train."

  "Yes'm," said Bud, and he had as yet not a thought of saying anythingelse.

  But Miss Alice lingered and watched the rubbing; not that she wasinterested in that, or, indeed, was thinking about it at all. She waswatching Bud, and thinking of him. What did Claire Benedict find in himto interest her? What did she suppose that she, Alice Ansted, coulddo to help him? The idea seemed fully as absurd as it had when firstsuggested.

  As if the boy had an idea above the horse he was rubbing so carefully!He did not look as intelligent as the animal. She had often wonderedwhat the horses thought about, as they trotted along. What did Budthink about as he rubbed? Did he think at all?

  "You seem to like that work?"

  It was Miss Alice's voice again. It startled Bud, the tone was sogentle, as though possibly she might be saying the words to comforthim. He dropped the brush with which he had been working; but as hestooped to pick it up, answered respectfully,

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Alice's lip curled. The idea of Miss Benedict trying to interest her ina boor like that, who could not reply to the merest commonplace withoutgrowing red in the face and blundering over his work! She turned togo. She could not think of anything else to say, and if she could,what use to say it? But in that one moment of time, Bud had taken hisresolution. The voice had been kind; its echo lingered pleasantly; hewould summon all his courage and ask the question which was absorbinghis thoughts. It might be days before he could see Miss Benedict again,and he could not wait.

  "Miss Ansted," he said, and she noticed that his voice trembled, "wouldyou tell me one thing that I want to know right away?"

  "That depends," she answered lightly; "I may not know. However, if yourquestion is not too deep, I may try to answer it. What do you want?"

  "Why, I've got to know _right away_ where Jerusalem is."

  "Jerusalem!" she repeated. "Why on earth do you wish to know that? Idon't know myself, precisely. It is across the ocean somewhere in Asia,you know. Why do you care, Bud, where it is?"

  "I've got to go there," said Bud, with simple dignity.

  Miss Ansted's laugh rang out merrily.

  "That is an undertaking!"
she said, gayly. "When do you intend tostart? and what is the object of the journey, I wonder?" She felt surenow that Bud was little less than an idiot.

  But Bud had another question to ask. His face was grave, almostdismayed. "Across the ocean!" That sentence appalled. He had heard ofthe ocean, and of a storm on it, and a shipwreck. A wandering sailoronce told in his hearing a fearful story of wreck and peril. Yet, be itrecorded that the boy, though appalled, did not for one moment recedefrom his fixed resolved to start, and go as far as he could. ThatComforter he meant to find. It had taken such hold of his heart thathe knew he could never give it up again. This was his next timidly-putquestion:

  "Did you ever go there, Miss Ansted?"

  "I never did," she answered, laughing still, and very curious now toknow what queer project poor Bud had on his mind. "Why do you want togo, Bud?"

  The answer was direct and grave.

  "I want to go after Him who said He would comfort me. 'Ye shall becomforted in Jerusalem,' that is what it says, and _she_ said it meantme, and little Jack went, I make sure, and I mean to go. I _must_ go."

  But before that answer, Alice Ansted stood dumb. She had never beenso amazed in her life! What did the fellow mean? What could have socompletely turned his foolish brain? "If this is the outcome of MissBenedict's efforts, she ought to know it at once, before the poor idiotconcludes his career in a lunatic asylum."

  This was her rapid thought, but aloud she said, at last:

  "I don't know what you are talking about, Bud. You have some wild ideathat does not seem to be doing you any good. I would advise you to dropit and think about the horses; they are your best friends."

  "I can't drop it," said Bud, simply; "I read the verse in the Bible;I promised I would, and I did, and I know all about it, and I want tohave it; _she_ said it was for me."

  "What is the verse?" and Miss Alice sat down on a carriage-stool tolisten.

  Bud repeated with slow and solemn emphasis the words which were nowso familiar to his ear: "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will Icomfort you: and ye shall be comforted in Jerusalem."

  "I know about mothers," he explained. "There was little Jack's mother,and she used to say to him just that, 'Mother will comfort you,' andshe did. And this one I make sure is Jesus, because _she_ said hewanted me to go where little Jack is, and I guess he means me, becauseI feel as if he did, and I'm going to Jerusalem, if it is across twooceans."

  Evidently his heart gathered strength as he talked; his voice grewfirmer, and the dignity of a fixed resolve began to settle on his face.

  Was there ever a more bewildered young lady than this one who sat onthe carriage stool? She surveyed Bud with the sort of half-curious,half-frightened air, which she might have bestowed on a mild maniacwhose wanderings interested her. What was she to say to him? Howconvince him of his queer mistake?

  "That doesn't mean what you think it does, Bud," she began at last.

  "Why doesn't it?" Bud asked, quickly; almost as one would speak who washolding on to a treasure which another was trying to snatch from him.

  "Because it doesn't. It has nothing to do with the city namedJerusalem. It is about something that you don't understand. It has aspiritual meaning; and of course you don't understand what I mean bythat! I haven't the least idea how to explain it to you, and indeed,it is extremely unnecessary for you to know. You see, Bud, it meanssomething entirely beyond your comprehension, and has nothing whateverto do with you."

  Bud made not the slightest attempt at answer, but went stolidly onwith his work. And Alice sat still and surveyed him for a few minuteslonger, then arose and shook out her robes, and said, "So I hope youwill not start for Jerusalem yet awhile," and laughed, and sped throughthe great, sliding doors, and picked her way daintily back to luxury,leaving the world blank for Bud.

  Miss Ansted was wise about the world, and about books; surely she wouldknow whether the verse meant him, and whether the word Jerusalem meant_Jerusalem_. Was it all a mistake?

  The pony was brought forward now and had her share of rubbing andcareful handling, and a bit of petting now and then, though theconversation which generally went on between her and the worker wasomitted this morning. Bud had graver thoughts. While he worked he wentover the old memories. Little Jack, and the comforting mother, and thefacts connected with those experiences, no need to tell him that _they_did not mean what they appeared to his eyes; he knew better. Then therewere the plain, simple words standing like a solid wall of granite: "Asone whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you."

  "Stand around!" said Bud, in a tone of authority; and while the graypony obeyed, he told her his resolve: "Them words mean _something_,Dolly, and _she_ knows what they mean, and Bud is going to find out."

  You are not to suppose that the pronoun referred to Alice Ansted. Shehad said that she could not tell him what they meant.

  If anybody had been looking on with wide-open eyes, it would have beenan interesting study in Providence to watch how Bud was led. It wasAlice Ansted who had a very little hand in it again, though she knewnothing of it. The "leading" was connected, too, with so insignificanta matter as an umbrella.

  Mr. Ramsey had overtaken Louis Ansted in a rain-storm, a few daysbefore, and had insisted on lending his umbrella, and it suited LouisAnsted's convenience to direct that it be sent home by Bud that morning.

  Why Alice Ansted took the trouble to go herself to Bud with theorder, instead of sending a servant, she hardly knew, neither did sheunderstand why, after having given it, she should have lingered to say:

  "I presume, Bud, that Mr. Ramsey can answer all the questions aboutJerusalem that you choose to ask."

  Now Mr. Ramsey was the dreary minister who seemed to Claire Benedict tohave no life nor heart in any of his work.

  Bud stood still to reflect over this new thought suggested to him witha half-laugh. He did not think to thank Miss Alice, and yet he knewthat he was glad. It was true, the minister would be likely to know allabout it, and there might not be a chance to speak to Miss Benedictagain, and Bud felt that he could not wait. So, as he trudged off downthe carriage-drive, he took his resolution. He had never spoken a wordto a minister in his life, but he would ask to see him this morning,and find out about Jerusalem if he could.