“I can’t let this go on any longer!”
His voice was husky with a kind of anguish. The church grew very still.
Everybody stopped thinking idle thoughts and gave attention.
“I’m not the man you think I am. My name is not Allan Murray. I don’t
know where he is nor what he is. I didn’t mean to deceive you. I
happened here when you expected him, and you took it for granted I was
he. I tried several times to get away quietly because I was ashamed,
but you blocked my way by some new kindness, and because I was a
wanderer from home and needed a home and a new name I finally stayed.
Then you made me president of that Society, and I wasn’t big enough! I
knew I couldn’t get away with that, and I meant to run away. But the
Lord stopped me. He met me right there and showed me what a Saviour He
was. I guess I was like Saul. My Sunday-school class taught me about
him--”
Four boys in the back of the church who had been snickering softly over
a picture they had drawn in the back of the hymn-book looked awesomely
at one another, and got red in the face, and watery round the eyes.
“So I gave myself up to the Lord, and he forgave my sin. Will you? I
know it’s a great deal to ask of you, but I had to ask it before I came
to this communion table. I didn’t know what was going on over here this
morning. Doctor Harrison said something about a ‘letter,’ but I didn’t
understand about these things. I came down here when he called my name
because he told me to, but I believed all those things he asked us, and
I meant it when I took that vow with all my heart.” Then he turned to
the minister: “I know I’m unworthy, but you said He would forgive if
we confessed our sin, and I’m taking you at your word. I’m glad I came
here this morning, and I’m glad I took those vows. They are going to be
perpetual for me. I’d like to have a part in this ceremony you’re going
to have here. I’d like to be counted in if you think it’s all right,
Doctor?” he looked at the minister again, “and then I’m going back to
face some hard things at home, but I’d like to be counted in with you
all this morning if I may. You said the Lord would give me a new name,
one that belongs to me this time, and I want it. You took me in because
you thought you knew my earthly father, will you forgive me because I
want your heavenly Father to be my Father too? I’m sorry I interrupted
the service, but I couldn’t go on without letting you know first.”
He would have dropped into the front seat, but the minister’s arm was
about him, and the minister drew him close to his side and said with a
joyous voice:
“‘There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ
Jesus.’ ‘Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet
appear what we shall be, but we know that when He shall appear we shall
be like Him, for we shall see him as He is.’ Let us pray.”
And then with his arm still around Murray, standing together as they
were, with Murray’s head bowed reverently, and such a light of love
in that pastor’s face, Doctor Harrison prayed as he had never prayed
before. Murray felt himself prayed for as Ananias must have prayed
for Saul. Ah! if Murray’s companions, back in his home city that day
killing time in their various frivolities, could have looked into that
church and seen their erstwhile companion they would have stared in
amazement, and perhaps remained to ridicule. But in that audience there
was not one who looked critically upon the young man. It was too much
like a scene out of the New Testament. One could almost seem to see a
flame of Pentecost coming down. Mrs. Summers sat wiping away the happy
tears, for she had spent many hours in praying for the dear boy under
her roof. There were others weeping, and many who were led to look into
their own hearts and lives through Murray’s words, finding themselves
unworthy also.
“And now,” said the minister, “let all who will forgive our dear
brother and take him into our full fellowship stand with me and join
with us in singing ‘Blest be the tie that binds,’ and then we will
partake of the Lord’s Supper together.”
Such a volume of song went up from the hearts of those Christian people
as must have made the angels rejoice. Murray, looking up in wonder,
could not see a single person sitting down. All were on their feet. He
was overpowered with the wonder of it.
He knew he would never forget the beautiful communion service which
followed. No other could ever be so beautiful. The choir sang softly
and reverently bits of hymns that he had never heard before, but which
they voiced so sweetly and distinctly that they sank into his soul to
be a part of the picture of this day that was to stay with him to the
day of his death.
They flocked around him when the service was over, some with tears in
their eyes, and wrung his hand, and shyly said they were glad he knew
the Lord. Even Elliot Harper, dazed and a bit mortified though he was,
that something had been “put over on him” before the world, had the
good grace or the Christianity to come over and shake his hand:
“Well sir, you gave us a surprise, but I admire your nerve and your
frankness. You did the right thing. Come and talk it over tomorrow.
You’re a good business man, whatever your name is, and I’m not sure but
we can get together in spite of this.”
Elliot Harper was a good man in many ways, but he couldn’t help
thinking that perhaps it would be a good thing for the bank to have it
known that a young man in their employ had been so out-and-out honest
as to make public confession at the communion table. That bank was a
little idol that he had set up unawares.
But perhaps the greatest surprise of all that he had was to find the
girl Anita standing quietly in the aisle up which he had to pass to
Mrs. Summers, who was waiting for him. She put out her hand and said
frankly:
“I’m glad you did that, and I want you to know I’m very glad you’ve
found Christ.”
He looked at her in surprise.
“You are?” he said amazed, “I wouldn’t suppose you’d care. I always
felt you didn’t trust me.”
She gave a quick glance around to see if any one was listening, and
then lifted clear eyes to his face:
“I went to school with Allan Murray’s sister,” she said. “He came down
to commencement, and I saw him several times. He has curly red hair and
brown eyes, and he is _taller_ than you.”
Murray gave her clear glance back again, and then his face broke into a
radiant grin.
“You certainly had it on me,” he said, twinkling his eyes, “I might
have known I couldn’t get away with a thing like that anywhere on the
face of this little globe. But say, why didn’t you give me away?”
Anita was nearer liking him then than she had ever been before. She
looked at him with a warm friendly smile.
“I had a notion it might be better to let the Lord work it out,” she
said.
“He has!” said Murray soberly. “I shall never cease to thank God for
bringing me here.”
“There’s one thing more,” said Anita gravely, “I wish you would tell me
just how much Allan Murray had to do with this?”
“Allan Murray! Why not one thing, only that I have been using his name
and his things and his position.”
“And you don’t know where he is? You have no evidence that he was
killed in that wreck?” There was an undertone of deep anxiety in her
voice.
He gave her a quick, comprehending glance.
“I don’t know a thing yet,” he said gravely. “I’ve been wondering that
myself every day I’ve been here, and wishing I knew, but I’m going
to make it my next business to find out. Within the next twenty-four
hours, if possible. I’ll let you know the result if you would like me
to.”
“I wish you would,” said Anita, her eyes cast down. “His sister was
very dear to me. She died two years ago, and I’ve lost trace of him
since. But I know there are none of his immediate family living.” She
was trying to excuse her deep interest, and Murray answered heartily:
“I’ll lose no time in letting you know when I find him,” he promised,
“I think he is alive. I have reason--but I can’t tell you about that
yet.”
He noticed a look of relief in her face as he spoke, but several people
who had been talking with the minister came down the aisle just then
and separated them, and he went on to where Mrs. Summers waited for him.
Half shyly he looked up, suddenly remembering that he must not be too
confident. He was no longer Allan Murray, the Christian, whose name
brought only honor. Perhaps Mrs. Summers would not feel like taking him
back to her house now.
“Are you going to forgive me too--” he hesitated, “Mother?”
“My dear boy!” she said warmly, slipping her hand into his
unobtrusively, and squeezing his fingers gently with her warm rose-leaf
grasp.
He had a choking sensation in his throat as if he were going to cry
like a child. It was so good to be forgiven and loved. This was real
mother-love!
“Did you suppose I was going to stop caring for you just because you
had a new name? You are not Allan Murray, but you are my boy, and you
always will be.”
“That is great of you,” he said huskily, because somehow his throat
seemed choked with tears, “I appreciate that more than you can ever
know! I’m not Allan Murray, but you may call me Murray. That’s my
own first name. That’s how it all came about. That girl came out and
called me Mr. Murray, and for the first instant I thought some one had
recognized me!”
“How strange!” she said. “What a coincidence! The Lord must really have
sent you here.”
“Well, I rather think He did,” said Murray, “I don’t know anywhere else
I’ve ever been where I could have gone and met _Him_ and been taught
about Him the way I have here. It’s been a miracle, that’s all there is
about it.”
They were walking across the path to her house now apart from all
the other people. There were still groups of people here and there
talking with one another about the wonderful service and the astounding
revelation concerning the stranger in their midst. Jane had met Anita
at the door of the church. There were traces of tears of excitement on
her cheeks.
“Oh, don’t you just _adore_ him, Anita!” she greeted her friend.
“Wasn’t that simply _great_ of him to be willing to come out like that
and tell the truth?”
“Don’t be blasphemous, Jane,” crisped Anita, “he’s not a god, or he
wouldn’t have gone around lying for weeks.”
“Oh, now Anita! There you go! I think that’s unchristian! I thought you
stood up to say you were willing to forgive him.”
“Forgiving’s one thing and worshipping’s another, Jane. Don’t be a
fool! That’s the one thing about you I can’t abide, Jane. You will be
so awfully silly! Why don’t you say you’re glad he found out what a
sinner he was? Why don’t you rejoice a little in the Lord, and worship
_Him_ for His saving power? We don’t have miracles like that every day.
It’s really something worth talking about and worth giving God a little
extra worship and adoration.”
“Oh, Mercy! Anita! You’re always so long-faced! I think you talk a
little too intimately about God, I really do! Of course _I_ understand
you, but some people mightn’t think you were a Christian, you are so
free talking about religion.”
Anita’s answer was a hearty, ringing laugh as she turned into her own
gate.
“Oh, Jane, you’re unspeakable! Well, good-bye! See you at
Sunday-school!” and Jane went on her gushing way, thinking how handsome
the hero of the hour had been that morning, and losing the real
significance of the occurrence entirely.
The minister had been detained with a messenger who asked him to come
at once to the bedside of a dying woman, and Murray had been let slip
away without a word from him, but later he came back across the lawn
to Mrs. Summers’ cottage and took the young man by both hands.
“Dear brother,” he said, “I want you to know how glad I am that you
gave that confession and testimony this morning. Aside from your own
part in it, and the joy you have set ringing in heaven over a sinner
that repents, you did more in that brief confession to show my people
what sin and true repentance means, and what the communion service
stands for, than I could have done in a year of sermons. I’ve come over
to congratulate you on your new birth, my boy, and to offer my services
in any way I can be a help to you in the further reconstruction of your
life, and the hard things you have to meet from your past.”
There with the minister and Mrs. Summers, while the dinner waited in
the fireless cooker, Murray told them his story. Briefly, with very few
details of his home, beyond the fact of his name, and that he had been
the means of killing a girl in an automobile accident, and had run away
from justice to protect the family name from being dragged through the
criminal courts.
“But I’m going back at once,” he said firmly. “It was all as plain
as day to me while I sat in the service this morning. I asked God to
show me what to do next, and that was what He seemed to tell me. I’m
afraid I made a mess of your service, not understanding just what came
next and where would be the proper time to interrupt you. But I just
couldn’t go on and take that communion with that on my soul!”
“You did right, brother, I’m glad you did just what you did,” said
Doctor Harrison sincerely.
“Well, I’ve got to make everything clean and clear, and then I don’t
care what comes to me. I’ll have to suffer the penalty of the law, of
course, that’s right, but now I know I’m not going into it alone. I’ve
got to go to the girl’s mother and confess and ask her forgiveness, and
then I’m going to give myself up. It’s the only right thing, of course.
I ought to have seen that before. But first I’ve got to hunt up that
Allan Murray, and make things right with him while I’m free. And that
reminds me. Mrs. Summers, there’s a letter upstairs among those you
laid on my bureau that seems to be from him. I’ll run up and get it.”
He was gone up the stairs with a bound, and the minister sat and smiled
at Mrs. Summers indulgently.
“Well, Mrs. Summers, he’s a dear boy, isn’t he? And our Lord is a
wonderful God. He worketh mighty miracles and wonders. Now, I wonder
what can have become of that man Murray! I feel responsible for him.
I wrote his pastor that he was here, and he was all they had said he
was and more. I wonder if we shall like the real man as much as his
substitute?”
“I wonder!” said Mrs. Summers sadly. She was looking ahead and knowing
that this boy, too, she must give up.
Murray came down with the letter, and Mrs. Summers tore it open and
read it aloud:
“My Dear Mrs. Summers:
“You will have been wondering why I have not written you before, but
since the first word that my nurse says she sent you I have been
quite seriously ill. There was some kind of a pressure on the brain,
and they had to operate.
“But I am getting on finely now, and hope soon to be about again. I am
writing Mr. Harper tomorrow. They won’t let me write but one letter
a day yet. Of course he has probably had to fill my place with some
one else, and if so, there will likely be no further chance for me
in Marlborough. In which case I shall have to ask you to forward my
trunks and boxes to me, and to send me the bill for whatever I owe
you. I hope you have not had to lose the rent of my room all this
time, and if you have I shall want to pay for whatever you have lost
through my illness.
“If, however, it should prove that there is still an opening for me
in Marlborough, the doctor says that I may promise to come about the
first of the year, if all goes well, and I certainly shall be glad to
get into a real home again, if such be the Lord’s will.
“I shall be glad to hear from you about the room and my trunk, which I
am not sure ever reached you. I am a little puzzled that I have heard
nothing from any of you, but I suppose you have been busy, and perhaps
there has been some mistake about my address, and my mail has been
forwarded to you. If so, will you kindly send it to me, as there may
be something that needs immediate attention.
“I am taking it for granted that you know all the details of the wreck
which changed all my plans, even better than I do, but thank God, I am
promised that I shall be as good as new again in a few weeks.
“Hoping to hear from you at your earliest convenience, and thanking
you for any trouble you may have had with my belongings,
“Very sincerely,
“ALLAN MURRAY.”
There was silence in the cheery little parlor as she finished reading
the letter. Each one was thinking, perhaps the same thoughts. How very
strange that this letter should have arrived just at this time!
“But it came several days ago,” said Mrs. Summers, looking at the
postmark. “I must have taken that up and put it on the bureau with the
rest of the letters the morning you left for the Convention. Strange I
didn’t notice his name!”
It was as if she had read their minds and was answering their thoughts.
“H’m!” said the minister thoughtfully, “the Lord never makes a mistake
in His dates. He meant this should all come about for His glory. Where
was that written from, Mrs. Summers?”
“Why, it’s Woods’ Corners! That’s not far away! To think he has been
there so near, all this time!”
“How far is that?” asked Murray gravely.
“Between twenty and twenty-five miles,” said the minister. “He will
have thought it strange that none of his father’s old friends came over
to see him. Did you never get any word from him before, Mrs. Summers?
He says his nurse wrote to you.”
“Nothing at all,” said Mrs. Summers thoughtfully.
“I must go at once!” said Murray, rising hastily. “You will excuse me,
I know. There is no time to waste to make this thing right. Something
might happen to stop me!”
“You must have your dinner first!” said Mrs. Summers, hurrying toward
the kitchen. “Doctor Harrison, you would better stay here and eat
dinner with us. Just telephone your wife that I’ve kept you.”
But Murray was at the door already.
“Wait, young brother,” said the minister, placing a detaining hand
on his arm. “You’ve a duty here yet not finished, I take it. You’ve
a Sunday-school class to teach in a few minutes, and it is a very
critical time for those boys. They will have heard of your confession
this morning, and their hearts will be very impressionable.”
“Doctor Harrison, I can’t teach a Sunday-school class. I never _did_
teach! _They taught me!_ You surely would not have me go before them
again, now that they know what a fake I am! I have nothing to teach
them!”
“You can teach them how to confess their sins, can’t you? You can show
them the way to Jesus I’m sure, now that you have found it yourself?
You have not finished your confession here until you have met your
class and made it right with them, my boy. I’m counting on your
testimony to bring those boys to the Lord Jesus.”
Murray’s face softened.
“Could I do that,” he asked thoughtfully, with a luminous look in his
eyes, “would you trust me to do that when I will in all probability be
in jail next Sunday?”
“You could do that, my son, and I will trust you to do it. I want you
to do it. It will make the jail bright around you to remember that
you had this opportunity to testify before the opportunity passed by
forever. You have made an impression on those boys, and you must make
sure that it is not spoiled. Tell them the truth. Show them how Jesus
forgives. Show them that it is better to confess soon than late.”
So Murray taught his Sunday-school class, taught it in such a way
that every boy in the class felt before it was over that he had been
personally brought before the judgment seat of God and tried. Taught it
so well that several boys went home and took out personal and private
sins that had been hidden deep in their hearts, and renounced them in
boyish prayers, in dark rooms at night, after the rest of the house was
sleeping. Taught it so powerfully that the superintendent nodded toward
the class, and said in a low tone to the minister, “What are we going
to do about that young man? Isn’t there some way to keep him here? The
real man can’t possibly take his place now. Those boys will resent his
presence, no matter how fine he is.”
A moment later the minister stood behind that class for a moment and
noticed the sober, thoughtful faces of the boys. The usual restless
merriment was not present. The boys had been in touch for a half hour
with the vital things of the soul, and had no time for trifling. He
watched them a moment as the closing hymn was announced. Then he laid
a hand on the shoulder of the teacher.
“Now, Murray,” he said, using his first name familiarly with a fatherly
accent, “I’m ready to take you over to Wood’s Corners. We’ll just slip
out this door while they’re singing. We’ll have plenty of time to get
back for the evening service. Mrs. Summers has put us up a lunch we can
eat on the way back, and so we needn’t hurry.”