THE CHALLENGE
For two days there was intense excitement throughout the entire parish
of Rixton. The one great topic of conversation was the punishment Ben
Stubbles had received. There was considerable anxiety as well, for
those who had taken part in the affair fully expected that Simon
Stubbles would hit back hard. Just what he would do, they had no idea,
but they realised that it was not his nature to overlook an insult,
especially to his only son. It was, therefore, a great relief when the
news spread that nothing would be done, and that Simon Stubbles had
agreed to allow the matter to rest.
How this information leaked out was never fully known, though it was
surmised that Squire Hawkins had given away the secret. Many were the
stories in circulation, and the slightest incident was greatly enlarged
according to the imagination of the narrator. It was believed that
Jake Jukes' hired man had been a detective in disguise, or anyway, a
man who had considerable influence. People recalled everything he had
said and done since coming to the place. His wrestling powers were
freely commented upon, as well as his ability to play the violin. They
remembered, too, how he had faced Ben Stubbles at the dance, and had
defeated single-handed the men sent to waylay him along the road at
night. In short, he became such a mystery to all, that they began to
look upon him as a hero, and ascribed to him wonderful powers, somewhat
akin to those bestowed upon heroes of ancient legends. This feeling
became intensified owing to Douglas' absence from the parish since the
day of Simon Stubbles' humiliation. He had gone with the clever lawyer
at a break-neck speed, so it was said, and had not returned.
But after two days the people of Rixton had something else to talk
about. It was the grim spectre of war which had suddenly appeared, and
sent a chill to every heart. The newspapers were full of it, and told
of the clash between France and Germany, and of the base violation of
Belgium by the advancing Huns. Then came England's declaration of war,
and all knew that Canada, as a part of the British Empire, must fight,
too. People were hungry for the least scrap of news, and watched
anxiously for the mailman to make his daily appearance. But even then
they were not satisfied, and men crowded the wharf, impatiently
awaiting the arrival of the evening boat from the city, that they might
obtain the latest news. When word came that a Contingent was being
formed for overseas service, then all were aware that Canada was
getting ready for her part in the titanic conflict.
Professor Strong was greatly excited over the war, and for once he
forgot about his beloved book. Intensely patriotic, he wondered why
the young men of the parish did not enlist. He longed to be young
again, that he might set them the example, and he talked eagerly to his
daughters about England's greatness, and related story after story of
her mighty deeds in the past. He was familiar, as well, with the
scenes of the conflict, for he had once visited Belgium, and had even
been at Liege. The old man wept when he heard how the Germans had
captured it, and were sweeping down upon Brussels.
"Just wait," he told them, "until the English and the French forces
meet those devils, and then there will be a different tale to tell.
There will be no goose-trotting, mark my word. Oh, if I were only able
to go!"
Nell was as greatly interested as her father and Nan. But through all
the excitement she could not banish Douglas from her heart and mind,
and she wondered what had become of him. She could not easily forget
the last time she had seen him in company with the lawyer. She
recalled how he had turned as the car was whirling him away, and waved
his hand to her as she watched him from the door. Empty had told her
later how the two had paid a visit to his mother, and of their brief
talk with Jean. The subject of the conversation Empty did not know,
and he felt quite crestfallen, for his reputation was at stake. But he
tried to make up for this lack of knowledge by telling of the numerous
stories which were in circulation about Douglas. Nell listened to them
all, though she made no comment. But deep in her heart she believed
that there was considerable truth in what she heard. That John
Handyman was some one in disguise, she had imagined for some time. She
had reasoned it over and over again in her own mind, and had often lain
awake at night thinking about it. But why had he come to Rixton? And
why should a man with his ability work as a farm-hand? If his health
had been poor she could have somewhat understood it, for she had read
of such cases. The more she thought, the more puzzled she became.
Anyway, she was sure that he was a good man, and a gentleman, for not
once could she remember the slightest discourtesy on his part to any
one.
Two weeks had now passed since Douglas left the place. No one had
heard a word about him, and Nell at times believed that she would never
see him again. That she had met him and had talked with him, seemed
almost like a beautiful dream. She lived in the memory of it, and when
she had a little spare time to herself she visited the old pine tree,
where they had stood and talked on that bright afternoon.
It was on one of these occasions that, instead of remaining by the
tree, she strolled along the path they had travelled that day, until
she came to the edge of the cleared field. Beyond was the church,
standing bare and lonely, so she thought. She recalled how Douglas had
spoken about his visit there, and the sad neglect of the building. A
desire now came upon her to see it for herself, so, crossing the field,
in a few minutes she was at the front door. To her surprise she found
it open, and entering, her astonishment was still greater when she saw
Joe Benton hard at work cleaning the floor and the seats. Upon the old
man's face was an expression of happiness, and his eyes brightened as
he paused in his work.
"I'm getting ready for the service," he explained in reply to Nell's
question. "There was no one else willing to do it, so I undertook the
job."
"But I didn't hear about any service," Nell replied. "When will it be
held?"
"Next Sunday. A notice was posted on the store this morning by Simon
Stubbles. He got word from the Bishop, so I understand."
"Is the new clergyman coming?" Nell asked, now greatly interested.
"I can't say, miss. It may be the Bishop himself, for all I know. But
as this is Friday, there isn't much time to get things ready. I wonder
what the Bishop would say if he could have seen the church as it was
when I began work. It was certainly disgraceful."
"But who is to play the organ?" Nell enquired. "And the hymns should
be practised by those who are willing to come into the choir. Is any
one attending to that?"
"I am, miss. Si asked me if I would speak to you, and I was going to
your house on my way home. I hope you will play, for then I know
everything will be all right with the music. Just try the organ, and
play a few tunes. It is a long time since I have heard them, and it
will help me with my work."
"Not now," Nell smilingly replied. "I am going to dust the chancel and
the vestry; that is, if you will let me."
"Sure, sure, go ahead. You have as much right here as I have. We all
have the same privileges in the Father's House, for we are all His
children."
Joe had swept the chancel and vestry room, so Nell dusted them both
with great thoroughness. She was very happy at this work, just why she
could not explain. When she was through, she polished the brass Altar
vases, which were much tarnished. Then she went out of doors and
gathered an abundance of wild flowers, and going into the vestry she
arranged these artistically in the vases. Stepping back, she viewed
her handiwork.
"How will they do?" she asked, as Joe just then looked in at the door.
"Don't you think they will suit any one?"
"I should say so," was the enthusiastic reply. "Even the Bishop
himself couldn't find any fault with them."
When the flowers had been placed upon the Communion Table, and the last
book had been carefully dusted and arranged, Nell sat down at the
little organ and began to play. Joe came and sat down in one of the
choir seats at the left. Hymn after hymn Nell played, and when she at
last stopped, Joe stepped softly to her side.
"Won't you play one more?" he asked. "Just one; it's my favourite."
"Why, certainly. What is it?"
"The Ninety and Nine. It's number seven-seventy-nine. And won't you
sing it, miss? I haven't heard it sung for a long time, though I read
it most every day."
Having played the air, Nell began to sing, and as her clear, sweet
voice welled forth, Joe leaned eagerly forward so as not to miss a
word. There were tears in his eyes, but his face was beaming with joy
and peace. Nell sang the hymn through, and when she finished and the
last throbbing notes of the organ ceased, a sobbing moan drifted up the
aisle of the old church. Both Nell and Joe turned quickly around, and
to their surprise they saw a woman kneeling upon the floor with her
face buried in her hands.
"Jean, my Jean!" Joe cried, as he sprang from his seat, hurried down
the aisle and caught his daughter in his arms. Then there was silence,
broken only by the sobs of the kneeling girl.
Nell stood near and watched them, uncertain what to do. She was deeply
affected by this scene, and thought it best that the two should be
alone. Softly she moved toward the door, and had almost reached it,
when Jean sprang after her and caught her by the arm.
"Don't go, Nell," she cried, "until you have forgiven me. Tell me you
forgive me," and once more Jean fell upon her knees and seized Nell's
hand in hers, and held it with a firm grip.
Stooping, Nell placed her disengaged arm lovingly about the girl's
body, and kissed her on the cheek.
"I forgive you all, Jean," she said. "So get up. Why should you kneel
to me?"
"And you know? You understand?" Jean asked, lifting up her pale face.
"Yes, I think I know everything, and you have always had my sincere
sympathy. But how did you happen to come here?"
"I wanted to see the old church once more, where I used to worship, and
was so happy in the years now gone forever. I did not expect to find
any one here, and was greatly surprised when I heard you singing. It
was that old hymn which affected me so much, and broke me down
completely."
"I am so glad that you came just when you did," Nell replied. "You
have been in my thoughts day and night, and I knew that you would come
to see me some day. You will come, will you not?"
But Jean shook her head and looked longingly around the church, as if
taking a final farewell of all the objects which were so dear and
familiar to her.
"I am going away," she quietly said, "and may never be back again."
"Don't say that, Jean," her father implored. "Why should you leave us
when we want you so much? Your mother's heart is aching for her little
girl."
"I know it, I know it, daddy dear. I have been very bad and cruel to
you both. But I have something to wipe out, and I shall never rest
content until I have done what I can to atone for my past sad mistake
in life."
"Where are you going, Jean?" Nell asked.
"I cannot tell you now. But it is a great work to which I am going,
and some day you will be proud of me, and so will the people of Rixton.
They scorn me now, and they surely have good reason for doing so."
"But, Jean darling, you will tell us where you are going before you
leave, will you not?" her father asked. "You will come home first?"
"Yes, I shall go with you now. And in a few days you will all know
where I am going, and what I expect to do. Come, daddy, let us go.
Good-bye, Nell, I shall see you before I leave."
Taking her father by the arm, she led him from the church, and up the
lane leading to the main road. Nell watched them until they had
disappeared from view. She then closed the church and hurried across
the field, for it was getting late and her father would be waiting for
her. But her heart was lighter than it had been for days. Jean was
her old self again, and she was so thankful. But she wondered where
she was going, and what she was about to do. That it was something
noble, she could tell by the expression of hope in Jean's eyes, and the
look of animation which had overspread her face as she told about her
intended departure.
When Nell reached the church Sunday afternoon, she found a large number
of people already there. It had been rumoured that the Bishop was to
hold the service, and it was expected that he would speak about the
war, and also have something to say concerning the new clergyman who
was to come to the parish.
Nell had not been idle since Friday, and Saturday night the first choir
practice in months had been held. The members were now all in their
places as she entered the church and went at once to the organ. Having
arranged her books, she next placed a list of hymns in a hymn book and
took it into the vestry room for the clergyman's use. It was a most
perfect August afternoon, and through the open vestry came the fresh
air laden with perfume of meadow and forest, and the music of birds.
Having placed the book on the little table, Nell looked around the room
to see that everything was arranged in its proper place. And as she
stood there, an auto swung up and stopped just outside the open door.
Glancing quickly around, Nell saw a man in khaki alight from the car,
with a small grip in his hand, and step into the vestry. He paused in
pleased surprise when he saw who was in the room, and at once held out
his hand.
"Oh, I am so glad to see you, Miss Strong," he began. "I did not
expect to find you here."
"Mr. Handyman!" Nell gasped, as she allowed her hand to remain in his
for a few seconds. "I had no idea of seeing you here to-day. Where is
the clergyman?"
"Right here," Douglas smiled. "Don't you understand?"
"You!" and the colour suddenly left Nell's cheeks. It seemed as if she
had not heard aright.
"Yes, I am to take the service to-day. Will you forgive me?"
Nell stood for a few seconds uncertain what to do or say. Her mind was
in a tumult. She had imagined many things as to Douglas' identity, but
never once had she suspected him of being a clergyman.
"There are the hymns," she at length told him, steadying her voice as
much as possible. "It is service time, and the people are getting
impatient."
Without another word she walked out of the vestry. She tried to be
calm, but her hands trembled as she began to play, and it appeared to
her that all must notice her agitation. Never had the church seemed so
hot, and she longed to be away by herself that she might think over the
startling discovery.
There was almost a sensation in the church that afternoon when Douglas
appeared and gave out the opening hymn. An intense silence ensued,
broken only by the sweet organ notes. Very few in the congregation
thought of singing, as they were too busy whispering to one another.
Jake Jukes stood dumbfounded. He could not believe his eyes, and paid
no heed to his wife who kept nudging his arm. Empty's mouth was wide
open and his eyes were fairly starting out of his head. His mother,
too, was greatly affected, and her hand trembled so much that she could
hardly hold her hymn book. Even Joe Benton forgot to follow the words,
and gazed intently upon the clergyman.
But the greatest feeling of consternation was in the pew where the
Stubbles sat. They were all there except Ben, and the sisters were
dressed in their finest. For once they forgot about their clothes, and
stared with undisguised wonder upon the white-robed man before them.
Simon Stubbles stood like a statue. It had taken him only an instant
to comprehend the whole situation. He knew now why the clergyman had
come to Rixton disguised as a farm-hand. It was to spy out the land,
and to ascertain what was the trouble in Church matters. Fear and
anger were blended as he watched Douglas' every movement, and a deep
sigh escaped his lips as he realised his helplessness.
No one slept during the sermon that day. Nell was the only one who did
not hear it all. She knew that Douglas was explaining his reasons for
coming to Rixton in disguise, and he explained them well. But her mind
wandered, and she thought of many things which had happened during the
past weeks and which at the time had puzzled her. But now she saw them
in a different light. Her attention was arrested as Douglas began to
tell why he was not coming to the parish as rector. The war had made
the change. He had offered to go to the front as chaplain, and he had
been accepted. His friend, Charles Garton, was raising a battalion and
men were being called to the Colours. "How many will go from this
parish?" he asked in conclusion. "Many of you are of Loyalist descent,
so I believe, and you cannot easily forget what your ancestors endured
in their devotion to the flag of the clustered crosses. All that the
old flag stands for is now at stake, and every one must do his part to
keep it floating as proudly as of yore. I now challenge the young men
of this parish to enlist as soon as possible, and unite with the
battalion which is being formed in the city. If you do, I shall be
your chaplain, and a great pleasure it will be for us to go overseas
together to support the brave men who are so anxiously awaiting the
Column of Relief. Do not delay. Make up your minds at once. The need
is great. Your King and country are calling you."
Never had Nell heard such singing in that old church as she did in the
closing hymn of "Onward, Christian Soldiers." All sang it with a new
spirit and a power that could not be mistaken. The sermon had made a
deep impression, and it was discussed for weeks afterwards.
When the service was over, Douglas was at once surrounded by an
enthusiastic crowd, for every one wished to shake hands with him and
give him a word of welcome. He mentally compared this reception with
his first arrival in the parish. It was really a victory, and he felt
that should he remain he would not be lacking in loyal supporters.
But there was one person Douglas wished to see most of all, and as soon
as he could free himself from the throng, he turned around toward the
organ. But he looked in vain, for Nell was not there, neither was she
anywhere in the church.