THE TEST OF THE TRUE HERALD
As David sped back through the starry darkness, he was filled with an
exultation such as he had never before experienced.
He had always held that every immortal soul was of equal value in the
sight of God; and that the bringing into the kingdom of an untutored
African savage, was of as much importance, in the Divine estimation, as
the conversion of the proudest potentate ruling upon any European
throne.
But, somehow, he realised now the greatness of the victory which grace
had won, in this surrender of Diana to the constraining touch of his
Lord and hers.
It was one thing to see light dawn, where all had hitherto been
darkness; but quite another to see the dispersion of clouds of cynical
unbelief, and the surrender of a strong personality to the faith which
requires the simple loving obedience of a little child: for, "whosoever
shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not
enter therein."
David leaned back in the motor, totally unconscious of his surroundings,
as he realised how great a conquest for his King was this winning of
Diana. Her immense wealth, her influence, her position in the county,
her undoubted personal charm, would all now be consecrated, and become a
power on the side of right.
He foresaw a beautiful future before her. The very fact that he himself
was so soon leaving England, and would have no personal share in that
future, made his joy all the purer because of its absolute selflessness.
Like the Baptist of old, standing on the banks of Jordan, he had pointed
to the passing Christ, saying: "Behold!" She had beheld; she had
followed; she had found Him; and the messenger, who had brought about
this meeting, might depart. He was needed no longer. The Voice had done
its work. All true heralds of the King rejoice when the souls they have
striven to win turn and say: "Now we believe, not because of thy saying;
for we have heard Him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the
Christ, the Saviour of the world." This test was now David's; and being
a true herald, he did not fail before it.
When Diana had risen from her knees, she had turned to him and said,
gently: "Cousin David, do you mind if I order the motor now? I could not
speak or think to-night of other things; and I just feel I want to be
alone."
During the few moments which intervened before the car was announced,
they sat in silence, one on either side of the fireplace. There was a
radiance of joy on both young faces, which anyone, entering
unexpectedly, would doubtless have put down to a very different cause.
Diana was not thinking at all of David; and David was thinking less of
Diana than of the Lord Whose presence with them, in that evening hour,
had made of it a time of healing and of power.
As he rose to go, she put her hand in his.
"Cousin David," she said, "more than ever now, I need your counsel and
your help. If I send over, just before one o'clock, can you come to
luncheon to-morrow, and afterwards we might have the talk which I cannot
manage to-night?"
David agreed. The weddings at which he had to officiate were at eleven
o'clock. "I will be ready," he said, "and I will come. I am afraid my
advice is not worth much; but, such as it is, it is altogether at your
service."
"Good-night, Cousin David," she said, "and God bless you! Doesn't it say
somewhere in the Bible: 'They that turn many to righteousness shall
shine as the stars for ever and ever'?"
David now remembered this farewell remark of Diana's, as he stood for a
moment at the Rectory gate, looking upward to the clear frosty sky. But
the idea did not suit his mood.
"Ah, no, my Lord," he said. "Thou art the bright and morning Star. Why
should I want, for myself, any glory or shining? I am content forever to
be but a follower of the Star."