_"I NEVER THOUGHT OF IT!"_
"HARRY! I shall never be able to spare you both," said his mother,
looking at him earnestly, when, after supper, the vicar and his wife
had left the three together to have a quiet talk. "Can you not come
home again and settle down with me in my old age? I have enough for you
both."
Harry took her hand in his, that dear thin hand that had guided him all
those thirty years. After a pause, he said gravely—
"It shall be as you wish, mother. How can I refuse you anything
to-night? Somebody else will be glad of my post in China, I suppose."
His mother smiled peacefully, with a little naïve nod at Mary.
"It never suited his health, and he will not be sorry in a few months.
There is plenty to do at Exeter, and we shall be very happy and very
busy, eh, my Harry?"
And when she wished Mary good-night, she said softly, "The Lord has
given me this day my heart's desire."
Mary kissed her affectionately, but she made no reply. For herself she
was glad enough for Harry to give up his post in China, but she feared
that he would be very disappointed.
Mrs. Fulbert looked into her face questioningly.
"You do not think me selfish, I hope, my dear?"
"No—oh, no!"
"You can hardly look at it with my eyes," she said, smiling, holding
Mary's hands between her own, as if to impress her words. "I always
said that no money compensated in my estimation for such separations
as residence in foreign countries involves. Of course, if you go as a
missionary, that is a different thing; for Christ's sake we may have to
forsake all that we have, but Harry had that situation before he knew
what it was to belong to Christ, and so—"
She paused, for Harry was standing by them, looking intently into her
face while she was speaking.
"'For Christ's sake'?" he echoed slowly. "I never thought of that. I
had my situation, and it never occurred to me to be a missionary!"
"It has 'occurred' to you to do work for Christ out there, Harry," said
Mary earnestly, "for you told me of several people that you had helped.
Is not that being a missionary?"
"I never thought of it," he said again thoughtfully and even solemnly.
Mrs. Fulbert had turned very pale. Surely her heart's desire, which she
thought a moment ago her Lord had given her, was not going to be taken
away by her own suggestion?
Mary stood very still, for she guessed that a crisis was going on in
both the hearts before her. What would be the end of it all? What a
revolution his mother's words might cause in all their lives!
At last Harry turned, and fondly put his arm round his mother.
"I have promised to do as you wish," he said, "and so we will leave it.
If my Lord has any other plan for me, He will show it in His own time."
Mrs. Fulbert looked in his face.
"Harry, I cannot say, 'Thy will, "not mine" be done,' to-night, but He
will enable me, I feel sure."
She kissed them both in silence and left the room.
"Mary!" exclaimed Harry. "My mother's words have turned me upside down!
What shall we do?"
"Our Lord will show us," said Mary, "and I do not think we have to
settle it to-night, have we, Harry? Perhaps the light will be clearer
to-morrow."
And the lonely mother upstairs, who had had her heart's desire so near
her, knelt in beseeching prayer in her chamber, not asking so much that
she might have her will, as that she should be willing from her heart
to have God's will.
The clock struck several hours, and still her wakeful eyes could find
no rest, till at last, a thought came swiftly and sweetly over her with
soothing balm, "'Commit' thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him," and
yielding to His will, she slept.
Mary was down the first on the following morning, and was busy
preparing the breakfast when Mrs. Fulbert came in.
"Am I too early?" she asked, as she came forward.
"Oh, no," said Mary, kissing her affectionately. "I wonder how you
slept, after all the excitement of yesterday?"
"Pretty well, dear. It was a long while before I could give him up,
Mary, but I did at last. I will take God's will, whichever way it is,
and trust Him."
"I am so glad," said Mary simply. Then, as if she could not help it,
she gave Mrs. Fulbert another kiss, and added: "I know what it means,
but it is such peace afterwards!"
Perhaps Harry understood at his first glance at his mother's face, for
no further mention was made of the subject for the present, and Mr. and
Mrs. Loveday were not yet aware either of the change of Harry's plans,
nor of the fresh thought which his mother's words had put into their
minds.
After breakfast, Mary and he set out to carry some of her aunt's jelly
to a sick man, and as their road lay near the mill, Mary left Harry
sitting on the stile while she ran in to see Pollie.
Pollie was sitting outside the mill, paring apples for a pie, and soon
saw her dear teacher coming. She ran down to meet her, and asked if she
would come in.
"Not to-day, dear, because Harry is waiting. But, Pollie, I wanted to
tell you something, and to ask you to pray—"
Pollie raised her eyes expectantly. It was not the first time by a good
many that she and Miss Loveday had "agreed" to pray.
"When we were talking last night, Harry's mother asked him not to
go back to China—I mean not to stay—of course, he must go back till
there is someone to take his place; and he promised he would do as she
wished—"
"Oh, Miss Loveday!"
"And then she said half a word about it being different if any one
went to China as a missionary. And, Mary, before we any of us knew,
something had happened that could never be undone. Harry had seen that
it might be that he should go to China as a missionary, and his mother
saw that the very thing which she dreaded—the separation from her only
son—might after all be a duty which she could not evade."
Pollie's eyes were gazing intently into her friend's face.
"Did he say?" she asked.
"No, not yet; but—"
"I'll pray," said Pollie earnestly. "I am sure God will make it plain,
dear Miss Loveday."
"Yes, so am I; only, Pollie, I feel as if I wanted to 'see!'"
"Don't you remember that little story you told us last Sunday?" said
Pollie, half-smiling.
"Which?" asked Mary.
"Don't you remember? About the little child going a journey in the
dark? You said he did not know the way in the least, and yet he was
not a bit anxious or worried, he knew he would get home at last,
just as surely as if he were stepping over the doorway. But that was
not because he was strong or wise, but only just for one very simple
reason—his father's lantern lighted, the 'next' step, and he had hold
of his father's hand."
Mary's eyes were full, and so were Pollie's to match. So full that they
did not notice a shadow fall upon them from some one who had come up
close.
"I will think of that," said Mary; "thank you, my little Pollie, for
reminding me."
"And I will think of that," said Harry, who was standing behind them.
"He will show the next step, Pollie, will he not?"
So before long "the next step" seemed to be that Harry must go back to
China and wait for the filling of his post.
How quickly that week sped away!
Near the end of it, Mary and Mrs. Fulbert accompanied Harry to London
to see him off on his long journey; and Pollie, to her great delight,
was asked to go too.
So at last Pollie did go to London, and for the two days that elapsed
before Harry sailed, she saw more sights than she had imagined it
possible could be seen in the time. Anyone watching those four going
about would have said that they were perfectly happy. And so indeed
they were, though now and then the parting which was in front of them
seemed to pass like a cloud over the brightness of the landscape.
Not a word more had been said about the missionary project. By
universal consent the subject was dropped. The four were praying about
it, but even Harry and Mary did not mention it to each other.
Mary had often watched Harry's face questioningly, but though he
understood, he did not seem prepared to talk of it. But the last
evening came at length, and still nothing had been settled.
"Mother," said Harry, as they all stood at the window in the hotel at
Gravesend, "have you thought any more about my being a missionary?"
Mrs. Fulbert turned rather pale, but she put her hand very calmly on
her son's arm.
"I should not like to keep you back, my dear, if God called you."
"What do you think, Mary?" he said, turning to look into her face. "I
have not asked you before, because I wanted for us all to do nothing in
a hurry."
"I am willing either way," said Mary, "but—"
"What is the 'but'?" he asked tenderly.
"We are young," she said, leaning her head on Mrs. Fulbert's shoulder,
"and we have each other—but you—"
Mrs. Fulbert stroked her face softly.
"Thank you, my dear, for thinking of me."
Harry was watching them both intently, and as his mother spoke, he bent
towards Mary and whispered, "You are right; and I love you more than
ever for being good to my mother! Mary, I see the next step now. When I
come back, if God spares us, we will stay a year with our dear mother.
She will be 'our' dear mother then, you know; and after that—"
"After that, if God points out the way, I will let you go happily, or
go with you!" said Mrs. Fulbert. "I am not too old yet to travel, if
need be," she added, smiling a little.
"Oh, mother," said Harry, "how sweet you are! To think that we may be
permitted to carry the unsearchable riches of Christ to some of the
millions of China!"
That was a memorable evening to them all, and in one young heart a seed
sank down to spring up and bear fruit in after days.
When Pollie went into her little room that night, she knelt in silence
for a long time by her bedside, but the prayer that went up from her
full heart was this:
"Here am I. Send me, send me!"
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