UNFINISHED MUSIC.
Meantime, this day, which was to be so fraught with consequences to
Marion, was on Eurie's hands to dispose of as best she could. To be at
Chautauqua, and to be bent on having nothing whatever to do with any of
the Chautauqua life, was in itself a novel position. The more so as she
felt herself quite deserted. The necessity for reporting served Marion
as an excuse for attending even those meetings which she did not report;
and the others having gone to Mayville to live, this foolish sheep, who
was within the fold, and who would not be _of_ it, went wandering
whither she would in search of amusement.
After Marion left her she made her way to the museum, and a pleasant
hour she spent; one could certainly not desire a more attractive spot.
She went hither and thither, handling and admiring the books, the
pictures, the maps, the profusion of curiosities, and, at the end of the
hour, when the press of visitors became too great to make a longer stay
agreeable, she departed well pleased with herself that she had had the
wisdom to choose such a pleasant resort instead of a seat in some
crowded tent as a listener.
Coming out, she walked down the hill, and on and on, watching the crowds
of people who were gathering, and wishing she had a programme that she
might see what the special attraction was that seemed to be drawing so
many.
At last she reached the wharf. The Assembly steamer was lying at her
dock, her jaunty flags flying, and the commotion upon her decks
betokening that she was making ready for a voyage. The crowd seemed
greater there than at any other point. It would appear that the special
attraction was here, after all. She understood it, and pushed nearer, as
the ringing notes of song suddenly rose on the air, and she recognized
the voices of the Tennesseeans.
This was a great treat; she delighted in hearing them. She allowed
herself to be elbowed and jostled by the throng, reaching every moment
by judicious pushing a place where she could not only hear but see, and
where escape was impossible. The jubilant chorus ceased and one of those
weird minor wails, such as their music abounds in, floated tenderly
around her.
It was a farewell song, so full of genuine pathos, and so tenderly sung,
that it was in vain to try to listen without a swelling of the throat
and a sense of sadness. Something in the way that the people pressed
nearer to listen suggested to Eurie that it must be designed as a
farewell tribute to somebody, and presently Prof. Sherwin mounted a seat
that served as a platform and gave them a tender informal farewell
address. In every sentence his great, warm heart shone.
"I am going away," he said, "before the blessed season at Chautauqua is
concluded. I am going with a sad heart, for I feel that opportunities
here for work for the Master have been great, and some of them I have
lost. And yet there is light in the sadness, for the work that I can not
do will yet be done. I once sat before my organ improvising a thought
that was in my heart, trying to give expression to it, and I could not.
I knew what I wanted, and I knew it was in my heart, but how to give it
expression I did not know. A celebrated organist came up the stairs and
stood beside me. I looked around to him. 'Can't you take this tune,' I
said, 'just where I leave it, and finish it for me as I have it in my
heart to do? I can't give it utterance. Don't you see what I want?'"
"'Perhaps I do,' he said, and he placed his fingers over my fingers, on
the same keys that mine were touching, and I slipped out of the seat and
back into the shadow, and he slipped into my place, and then the music
rolled forth. My tune, only I could not play it. He was doing it for me.
So, though I may have failed in my work that I have tried to do here,
the great Master is here, and I pray and I hope and I believe that he
will put his grand hand upon my unfinished work and in heaven I shall
meet it completed.'"
What was there in this to move Eurie to tears? She did not know Prof.
Sherwin--that is, she had never been introduced to him--but she had
heard him sing, she had heard him pray, she had met him in the walk and
asked where the Sunday-school lesson was, and he had in part directed
her--directed her in such a way that she had been led to seek further,
and in doing so had met Miss Ryder, and in meeting her had been
interested ever since in studying a Christian life. Was this one of
Prof. Sherwin's unfinished tunes? Would he meet it again in heaven?
A very tender spirit took possession of Eurie--an almost irresistible
longing to know more of this influence, or presence, or whatever name it
should be called, that so moved hearts, and made the friends of a week
say farewell with tears, and yet with hopeful smiles as they spoke in
joy and assurance of a future meeting.
Prof. Sherwin and his friends embarked, and the dainty little steamer
turned her graceful head toward Mayville, and slipped away over the
silver water. Eurie made no attempt to get away from the throng who
pressed to the edge of the dock to get the last bow, the last flutter of
his handkerchief. She even drew out her own handkerchief and fluttered
it after him, and received from him a special bow, and was almost
decided to resolve to be present in joy at that other meeting, and to
make sure this very day of her title to an inheritance there. Almost!
Going back she met Ruth and Flossy. She seized eagerly upon the latter.
"Come," she said, "you have been to meetings enough, and you haven't
taken a single walk with me since we have been here, and think of the
promises we made to entertain each other."
Flossy laughed cheerfully.
"We have been entertained, without any effort on our part," she said.
Nevertheless she suffered herself to be persuaded to go for a walk,
provided Eurie would go to Palestine.
"What nonsense!" Eurie said, disdainfully, when Flossy had explained to
her that she had a consuming desire to wander along the banks of the
Jordan, and view those ancient cities, historic now. "However, I would
just as soon walk in that direction as any other."
There was one other person who, it transpired, would as soon take a walk
as do anything else just then. He joined the girls as they turned toward
the Palestine road. That was Mr. Evan Roberts.
"Are you going to visit the Holy Land this morning, and may I be of your
party?" he asked.
"Yes," Flossy answered, whether to the first question, or to both in
one, she did not say. Then she introduced Eurie, and the three walked on
together, discussing the morning and the meetings with zest.
"Here we are, on 'Jordan's stormy banks,'" Mr. Roberts said, at last,
halting beside the grassy bank. "I suppose there was never a more
perfect geographical representation than this."
"Do you really think it has any practical value?" Eurie asked,
skeptically. Mr. Roberts looked at her curiously.
"Hasn't it to you?" he said. "Now, to me, it is just brimful of
interest and value; that is, as much value as geographical knowledge
ever is. I take two views of it. If I never have an actual sight of the
sacred land, by studying this miniature of it, I have as full a
knowledge as it is possible to get without the actual view, and if I at
some future day am permitted to travel there, why--well, you know of
course how pleasant it is to be thoroughly posted in regard to the
places of interest that you are about to visit; every European traveler
understands that."
"But do you suppose it is really an accurate outline?" Eurie said,
again, quoting opinions that she had read until she fancied they were
her own.
Again Mr. Roberts favored her with that peculiar look from under heavy
eyebrows--a look half satirical, half amused.
"Some of the most skilled surveyors and traveled scholars have so
reported," he said, carelessly. "And when you add to that the fact that
they are Christian men, who have no special reason for getting up a
wholesale deception for us, and are supposed to be tolerably reliable
on all other subjects, I see no reason to doubt the statement."
On the whole, Eurie had the satisfaction of realizing that she had
appeared like a simpleton.
Flossy, meantime, was wandering delightedly along the banks, stopping
here and there to read the words on the little white tablets that marked
the places of special interest.
"Do you see," she said, turning eagerly, "that these are Bible
references on each tablet? Wouldn't it be interesting to know what they
selected as the scene to especially mark this place?"
Mr. Roberts swung a camp-chair from his arm, planted it firmly in the
ground, and drew a Bible from his pocket.
"Miss Mitchell," he said, "suppose you sit down here in this road,
leading from Jerusalem to Bethany, and tell us what is going on just now
in Bethany, while Miss Shipley and I supply you with chapter and verse."
"I am not very familiar with the text-book," Eurie said. "If you are
really in the village yourselves you might possibly inquire of the
inhabitants before I could find the account." But she took the chair
and the Bible.
"Look at Matthew xxi. 17, Eurie," Flossy said, stooping over the tablet,
and Eurie read:
"'And he left them, and went out of the city into Bethany; and he lodged
there.'"
"That was Jesus, wasn't it? Then he went this way, this very road,
Eurie, where you are sitting!" It was certainly very fascinating.
"And stopped at the house on which you have your hand, perhaps," Mr.
Roberts said, smiling at her eager face.
"That might have been Simon's house, for instance."
"Did _he_ live in Bethany? I don't know anything about these things."
"Eurie, look if you can find anything about him. The next reference is
Matthew xxvi."
And again Eurie read:
"'Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper.'"
"The very place!" Flossy said, again. "Oh, I want so much to know what
happened then!"
"Won't Miss Mitchell read it to us?" Mr. Roberts said, and he arranged
his shawl along the ground for seats. "Since we have really come to
Bethany, let us have the full benefit of it. Now, Miss Shipley, take a
seat, and we will give ourselves up to the pleasure of being with Jesus
in Simon's house, and looking on at the scene."
So they disposed of themselves on the grass, and Eurie, hardly able to
restrain a laugh over the novelty of the situation, and yet wonderfully
fascinated by the whole scene, read to them the tender story of the
loving woman with her sweet-smelling ointment, growing more and more
interested, until in the closing verse her voice was full of feeling.
"'Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in
the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done be
told as a memorial of her.'"
"Think of that!" said Mr. Roberts. "And here are we, eighteen hundred
years afterward, sitting here in Bethany and talking of that same woman
still! Miss Mitchell, are you going to do something for Christ that
shall be talked over a thousand years from now? There is a chance for
undying fame."
"Doubtful!" Eurie said, but she did not smile; her face was grave.
"Or, better still, are you going to do such work for Christ that,
hundreds of years after, your influence will be silently living and
working out its fruit in human hearts?"
"It is altogether more likely that I shall do nothing at all."
"Out of the question," he said, with a grave smile. "Either for or
against, every life must be, whether we will it or not. 'He that is not
with me is against me,' was the word of the Master himself, and as long
as eternity lasts the fruit of the sowing will last."
"That is a fearfully solemn thought," Flossy said, earnestly.
Mr. Roberts turned toward her a face aglow with smiles now.
"And a wondrously precious one," he said, and Flossy answered him in a
low tone:
"Yes, I can see that it might be."
Now, the actual fact is, that those three people wandered around that
far-away land until the morning vanished and the loud peal of the
Chautauqua bells announced the fact that the feast of intellect was
over, and it was time for dinner They went from Bethany to Bethel, and
from Bethel to Shechem, and they even climbed Mount Hermon's snowy peak,
and looked about on the lovely plain below. In every place there was
Bible reading, and Eurie was the reader, and it was such a morning that
she will remember for all time.
"Pray, who is this Mr. Roberts?" she asked, as they parted company at
the foot of the hill. "Where did you make his acquaintance?"
"He is Mrs. Smythe's nephew," Flossy said. "She introduced me to him the
other evening."
"The other evening! You seemed to be as well acquainted as though you
had spent the summer together."
"Some people have a way of seeming like friends on short acquaintance,"
Flossy said, with grave face and smiling eyes.
"You two missed a good deal by your folly this morning," Ruth said, as
they met at dinner. "We had a grand lecture."
"So had we," answered Eurie, significantly, and that was every word she
vouchsafed concerning the trip to Palestine.