CROSSING THE RUBICON.
The path seemed perfectly clear to Dorothy, and she announced to her
parents that she must join the Baptist church. The decision was a blow
to them. It is true that the discussions of the past two weeks and the
remarks dropped by Dorothy had indicated that she was moving towards
that point and yet neither of the parents had believed that she would
actually take the step. The father had been greatly surprised at the
facts that had been brought out in favor of the Baptists, but when the
thought of Dorothy identifying herself with the little Baptist band in
the town came into his mind his prejudice assumed control and he became
rebellious. To him and his wife the announcement of their daughter put a
blighting disappointment on their ambitions regarding her future. They
had rejoiced in her growing popularity in the best social circles of the
town. Besides, they were not entirely unaware of the admiration of the
young Presbyterian millionaire for Dorothy and a union with that
influential family was a prospect not unpleasant to them. That their
daughter should cut herself off from social opportunities and tie
herself up with an obscure people that held meetings in one of the
cheaper parts of the town--that was to them almost worse than her
funeral. They said nothing to her when she announced her decision. She
understood what it would probably mean for her, but her convictions
pressed her forward. In fact, she felt an eagerness to see and get
acquainted with the little Baptist band, for she felt sure that, while
that particular church might for some reason be obscure and ignorant,
yet they came of royal lineage with an illustrious record behind them
and she was glad to link herself with such a people. The parents did not
forbid her joining the Baptists, but their silence, their lack of
sympathy and their manifest disappointment and grief over it made her
burden far heavier than if they had openly opposed it. She felt that she
could have braced herself against such opposition and thereby showed her
love for Christ above her love for her parents, but their suffering
multiplied her own.
A pall of gloom seemed to have settled over the thought of their
daughter picking her way along the narrow streets around to the cheap
section of the town and down the rough steps from the sidewalk and into
the plain chapel to mingle with the even plainer people was a
humiliation that seemed crushing, and they were speechless. This was an
experience that Dorothy had never counted on. Her joy in finding what
seemed to her the truth, and in following it had not knew what church
she expected to attend. The home on that Sunday morning when Dorothy
came down to the library dressed for church. The parents prepared her
for this cross that rose up in her path. At first she was inclined to
resent such lack of sympathy from her parents; but the sight of their
disappointed faces put a lock on her lips and a load on her heart. She
wavered not, however, in her sense of duty. On to the little Baptist
church she wended her way, and it was a sensation indeed for the members
when the door of the little chapel opened and in walked the beautiful
daughter of the rich and honored, though worldly, Mr. Page. Her entrance
was not met by intrusive and impertinent glances. The worshipers were
stunned by her arrival, for they had no idea what it meant. But they
were too well trained in worship to be ill-mannered in their wonderment.
The simplicity of their worship went to her heart and she found herself
entering into the spirit of the hymns, although she was not familiar
with many of them. In fact, the entire service gave her much joy.
At the close of the service Mr. Walton walked down to Dorothy, gave her
a hearty welcome and proceeded to introduce her to some of his members.
How genuine seemed their welcome! The thought that their faith was her
faith made her feel at home. It is true that the plain room and the
exceedingly plain attire of nearly all the people presented an almost
shocking contrast to what she was accustomed to. It made her wince under
it, but her better thoughts soon got the mastery. Her sense of duty held
her firm and gave her a peace and even a joy in what she was doing.
She told the pastor she had come to ask for baptism and membership in
his church. He was not greatly surprised, though much delighted. He
stated that he would be glad at the conclusion of the night service to
receive her for baptism.
That evening, when she started down the steps of her house to go to
church, she found the automobile at the curb at the front of the house
and the chauffeur told her that her father had told him to have the
machine ready to take her to the church, that he did not wish her to
walk around to that section alone. She was touched at the thoughtfulness
of her father, and yet the silence of it all cut her to the heart. She
felt that she was almost an outcast from her parents; but then she
judged that they could not understand her and that they were simply
keeping aloof with their disappointment. The meals had been eaten in
almost perfect silence that day. The mother did not care for dinner and
the father ate and talked but little, and then to the other members of
the family.
That night Dorothy was received for baptism and it was announced that,
on the following Sunday night she would be baptized. By the next Sunday
her parents began to relent. At first they were inclined to be indignant
with the Baptist preacher, as if he were largely responsible for their
daughter's action; but as they recalled the discussions of the past
month they realized that their daughter had reached her conclusions
largely through her own study of the Bible.
Gradually they came to see that she must have her convictions and they
ought not to interfere with her religion. They saw that she was firm,
and they decided to accept the inevitable. Husband and wife talked it
over and the husband said: "Wife, I think it is a clear proposition.
Dorothy has taken the step and the die is cast. It is not according to
our fancy or hope, but it is according to her convictions, and I guess
we would rather she should be a woman of convictions than for her to be
one with no convictions, but tossed about by every kind of influence. I
think we must try to make the most of it. Opposition, I fear, would only
make matters worse for her and for us. Let us tell her we shall not
oppose her."
And so it was agreed, and that evening Mr. and Mrs. Page talked frankly
with Dorothy and the burden rolled from her heart. The parents said they
never could attend that church, but that they would not stand in her
way.
How her heart yearned to have them present at her baptism, but she dared
not ask them, and she knew they would not come! Two of her girl friends
went with her, partly out of curiosity and partly out of devotion to
Dorothy. Mr. Page told the chauffeur to take Dorothy and her friends to
the church first and then to return and take him and his wife for a
ride.
As Mr. and Mrs. Page were being driven home in the automobile, after
their ride something impelled the father to tell the chauffeur to turn
the corner and go up the third street. The little Baptist chapel was on
that street. It was a summer evening and the windows of the church were
raised and the door was open, and as they approached the church Mr. Page
told the chauffeur to slow up. They heard singing, and there through the
open door they saw the pulpit and the open baptistry. The machine
stopped and they sat quiet as they listened to the singing, and soon
they saw a picture that chained them to their seats. Out into the water
to the front moved Dorothy at the side of the pastor. The parents were
sure that Dorothy never looked lovelier than at that moment, and on her
face was a happiness that they had never seen before. It smote them to
the heart. They heard the words of the minister as he said: "Dorothy
Page, do you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ as your Savior?"
She bowed her head in assent and they saw her lips move. The pastor then
said: "Upon a profession of your faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and in
obedience to his command I baptize you, my sister, in the name of the
Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen."
They saw her fade from their sight under the water, and then from the
water they saw her rise as the congregation struck up the hymn:
"O happy are they
Who their Savior obey
And have laid up their treasures above."
That was all. Dorothy turned and was led by the pastor out of the
baptismal waters and the father bade the chauffeur move on; but an arrow
had entered the hearts of the parents.
A new light shone in Dorothy's eyes after that Sunday. Those who saw her
as she emerged from the baptismal waters declared that her face looked
like that of an angel. Many times during the week she was heard singing
in happy tones. The thought that she had put obedience to Christ's
commands above every earthly consideration filled her with peace and
gladness. To her parents her new joy was a mystery. Association with a
band of poor and obscure people suggested to their minds not happiness,
but isolation and almost disgrace.
Dorothy's chief thought now seemed to be her church. Not a day passed
that she was not in conference with the pastor or some of the members
seeking to familiarize herself with the condition of the church, its
needs and its work. To the request of the superintendent that she would
take a class in the Sunday school she replied with a startled
expression: "Oh, Mr. Randall, I must have someone teach me the Bible
before I can teach others." She finally yielded to his appeal and
decided to go out among the poor and neglected of the town and gather
some girls into a class.
It was an interesting spectacle that she presented on the next Sunday
morning as she marched into the Sunday school with four girls whom she
had ferreted out during the week, and who had promised to come with her
on the following Sunday if she would come for them. The sight of
Dorothy--beautiful in face but far more beautiful in soul--bending with
such loving tenderness over her little quartette, put new zeal into the
other teachers.
At the first visit that Dorothy made to the church she noticed its bare
furnishings, but she gave no sign that she saw these things. Many plans
had already begun to form in her mind as to improvements that might be
made. When she heard the pastor announce a meeting of the Ladies' Aid
Society for the next Tuesday afternoon she determined to be on hand. At
the meeting she asked the ladies to tell her what work the society
sought to do. They replied that they tried to raise money for different
purposes; sometimes for coal, sometimes for pastor's salary, and that
they had been hoping to raise something for improving the church
building, but the other expenses were so heavy their money was needed to
meet them.
At the next meeting she suggested that they make special effort to raise
money for painting the church, and the plan she advised was that they
make bonnets and aprons for sale. They agreed to this and set about the
task. The women said they had very little money to give. They decided
that in addition to the little money that they could donate they would
also give some of their time and labor that could be turned into money.
They determined to rent an empty store and offer their goods for sale.
This was done. It had already been well advertised and the whole town
was talking about the enterprise of the little Baptist church, and the
happiest of all was Dorothy as she labored with the other women.
It was the announced purpose of the society that every article must be
up to the standard in quality and that every purchaser must get the full
worth of his money. They asked no buyer to be a benefactor. The women
considered they were giving as much, if not more, than they were
receiving. The giving and the sacrifice were not on the part of the
buyers, but on the part of those women who had given their time and
labor. When they counted up their gains they found they netted over a
hundred dollars. But some good news awaited them. A paint dealer in the
town, hearing of their brave purpose to paint their chapel, asked the
privilege of donating a part of the paint. Two of their own members
agreed to do the painting by working in the early hours of each day.
'Twas a happy day for Dorothy and for the church when the last touch of
the brush was put on the church and the work was completed. They next
decided that the church building must be lifted to the level of the
street, and the ladies assumed that as their task. The men promised
their labor at their off hours. A lumber merchant heard of their valiant
struggle and made them a large gift of lumber, and thus the skies
brightened for them. Dorothy's fingers, as well as the fingers of the
older ladies, were busy making garments to be sold. Without going into
details, let it be stated that the little church found itself at last on
a level with the street and with an excellent Sunday school room in the
basement.
Dorothy's class had grown to a band of twenty girls and it was a picture
worth going far to see--that of Dorothy surrounded by her girls, and
herself the happiest of them all.
During all this time Sterling was wrestling with a racking experience.
It had become apparent to him that convictions had arisen within his
soul that were at variance with the cardinal doctrines of his church.
He loved his church and her history; he was devoted to the work in his
Sunday school and his church. He determined, however, to remain with his
people, even though he felt that his church was in error on certain
points.
Thoughts of Dorothy filled his mind day and night. The past few weeks
had been doleful ones for him. When Dorothy joined the Baptists he felt
as if he had lost her forever. A gulf seemed to open between her and
himself. In a way she seemed to have stepped into a higher realm, far
above him.
Her work for her church and her Sunday school occupied the largest part
of her time, and it was only occasionally that he had the pleasure of a
tennis game with her.