Julia Cloud had a sudden feeling that everything was whirling beneath
her--the very foundations of the earth. She drew a deep breath,
and tried to steady herself, thinking in her heart that she must be
very calm and not make any mistakes in this great crisis that had
arisen. It flashed across her consciousness that she was a simple,
old-fashioned woman, accustomed to old-fashioned ideas, living all
her life in a little town where the line between the church and the
world was strongly marked, where the traditions of Christianity were
still held sacred in the hearts of many and where the customs of
worldliness had not yet noticeably invaded. All the articles she had
read in the religious press about the worldliness of the modern
Sabbath, the terrible desecration of the day that had been dear and
sacred to her all her life as being the time when she came closest
to her Lord; all the struggle between the church and the world to
keep the old laws rigidly; and all the sneers she had seen in the
secular press against the fanatics who were trying to force the
world back to Puritanism, came shivering to her mind in one great
thrill of agony as she recognized that she was face to face with
one of the biggest religious problems of the day, and must fight it
out alone.
The beautiful life that had seemed to be opening out before her was
not, then, to be all beauty. Behind the flowers of this new Eden there
hid a serpent of temptation; and she, Julia Cloud, disciple of the
Lord Christ, was to be tried out to see what faith there was in her.
For a moment she faltered, and closed her eyes, shuddering. How could
she face it, she, who knew so little what to say and how to tell her
quiet heart-beliefs? Why had she been placed in such a position? Why
was there not some one wiser than she to guide the feet of these
children into the straight and narrow way?
But only a moment she shrank thus. The voice of her Master seemed to
speak in her heart as the wind whirled by the car and stirred the
loose hair on her forehead. The voice that had been her guide through
life was requiring her now to witness to these two whom she loved, as
no other could do it, be they ever so wise; just because she loved
them and loved Him, and was not pretending to be wise, only following.
Then she drew a deep breath, reminded herself once more that she must
be careful not to antagonize, and sat up gravely.
"Dear, it is God's day, and I have always felt that He wanted us to
make it holy for Him, keep worldly things out of it, you know. I
wouldn't feel that I could work on that day. Of course I have no right
to say you shall not. I'm only your adviser and friend, you know. But
I'd rather you wouldn't, because I know God would rather you
wouldn't."
Leslie pouted uneasily.
"How in the world could you know that?" she said almost crossly. She
did love to carry out her projects, and hitherto Julia Cloud had put
no hindrance in her way.
"Why, He said so in His book. He said, 'Thou shalt not do any work,
thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter----'"
"Oh, those are the old commandments, Cloudy, dear; and I've heard
people, even ministers, say that they are out of date now. They don't
have anything to do with us nowadays."
Julia Cloud looked still graver.
"God doesn't change, Leslie. He is the same yesterday and to-day and
forever. And He said that whoever took away from the meaning of the
words of His book would have some terrible punishment, so that it were
better that a millstone were hanged about his neck and that he were
drowned."
"Well, I think He'd be a perfectly horrid God to do that!" said
Leslie. "I can't see how you can believe any such old thing. It isn't
like you, Cloudy, dear; it's just some old thing you were taught. You
don't like to be long-faced and unhappy one day in the week, you know
you don't."
"Long-faced! Unhappy! Why, dear child, God doesn't want the Sabbath to
be that. He wants it to be the happiest day of all the week. I'm never
unhappy on Sunday. I like it best of all."
Suddenly Allison turned around, and looked at Julia Cloud, saw the
white, strained look around her lips, the yearning light in her eyes,
and had some swift man's intuition about the true woman's soul of her.
For men, especially young men, do have these intuitions sometimes as
well as women.
"Leslie," he said gently, as if he had suddenly grown much older than
his sister, "can't you see you're hurting Cloudy? Cut it out! If
Cloudy likes Sunday, she shall have it the way she wants it."
Leslie turned with sudden compunction.
"O Cloudy, dear, I didn't mean to hurt you; indeed I didn't! I never
thought you'd care."
"It's all right, dear," said Julia Cloud with her gentle voice, and
just the least mite of a gasp. "You see--I--Sunday has been always
very dear to me; I hadn't realized you wouldn't feel the same."
She seemed to shrink into herself; and, though the smile still
trembled on her lips, there was a hovering of distress over her fine
brows.
"We _will_ feel the same!" declared Allison. "If you feel that way so
much, we'll manage somehow to be loyal to what you think. You always
do it for us; and, if we can't be as big as you are, we haven't got
the gang spirit. It's teamwork, Leslie. Cloudy goes to football games,
and makes fudge for our friends; and we go to church and help her keep
Sunday her way. See?"
"Why, of course! Sure!" said Leslie, half bewildered. "I didn't mean
not to, of course, if Cloudy likes such things; only she'll have to
teach me how, for I never did like those things."
"Well, I say, let's get Cloudy to spend the first Sunday telling us
how she thinks Sunday ought to be kept, and why. Is that a bargain,
Cloudy?"
"But I'm afraid I wouldn't be wise enough to explain," faltered Julia
Cloud, distress in her voice. "I could maybe find something to read to
you about it."
"Oh, preserve us, Cloudy! We don't want any old dissertations out of a
book. If we can't have your own thoughts that make you live it the way
you do, we haven't any use for any of it. See?"
Julia Cloud forced a trembling little smile, and said she saw, and
would do her best; but her heart sank at the prospect. What a
responsibility to be put upon her ignorant shoulders. The Lord's
Sabbath in her bungling hands to make or to mar for these two young
souls! She must pray. Oh, she must pray continually that she might be
led!
And then there came swiftly to her mind one of the verses that had
become dear and familiar to her through the years as she read and
reread her Bible, "And when they bring you unto the synagogues, and
unto magistrates, and powers, take ye no thought how or what thing ye
shall answer, or what ye shall say; for the Holy Ghost shall teach you
in the same hour what ye ought to say."
This was not exactly being brought before magistrates; but it was
being challenged for a reason for the hope that was in her, and
perhaps she could claim the promise. Surely, if the Lord wanted her to
defend His Sabbath before these two, He would give her wise words in
which to speak. Anyhow, she would just have to trust Him, for she had
none of her own.
"Now see what you've done, Leslie!" said her brother sharply. "Cloudy
hasn't looked that way once before. Next thing you know she'll be
washing her hands of us and running off back to Sterling again."
"O Cloudy!" said the penitent Leslie, flinging herself into her aunt's
arms and nestling there beseechingly. "You wouldn't do that, would
you, Cloudy, dear? No matter how naughty I got? Because you would know
I wouldn't mean it ever. Even if I was real bad."
"No, dear," said Julia Cloud, kissing her fair forehead. "But this is
just one of those things that I meant when I was afraid to undertake
it. You see there may be a great many things you will want to do on
Sunday that I would not feel it right for me to do, and I may be a
hindrance to you in lots of ways. I shouldn't like to get to be a sort
of burden to you, and it isn't as if they were things that I could
give up, you know. This is a matter of conscience."
"That's all right, Cloudy," put in Allison. "You have your say in
things like that. We aren't so selfish as all that. And besides, if
it's wrong for you, who knows but it's wrong for us, too? We'll look
into it."
Julia Cloud went smiling through the rest of the evening, but
underneath was a tugging of strange dread and fear at her heart. It
was all so new, this having responsibility with souls. She had always
so quietly trusted her Bible and tried to follow her Lord. She had
never had to guide others. There had not been time for her even to
take a class in Sunday school, and she knew her religion only as it
applied to her one little narrow life, she thought, not realizing
that, when one has applied a great faith to the circumstances of even
a narrow life, and applied it thoroughly through a lifetime, one has
learned more theology than one could get in years of a theological
seminary. Theories, after all, are worth little unless they have been
worked out in experience; and when one has patiently, even happily,
given up much of the joy of living to serve, has learned to keep self
under and love even the unlovable, has put to the test the promises of
the Bible and found them hold true in time of need, and has found the
Sabbath day an oasis in the desert of an otherwise dreary life, even
an old theologian wouldn't have much more to go on in beginning a
discussion on Sabbath-keeping.
Quite early the next morning, before Leslie had awakened, Julia Cloud
had slipped softly to her knees by the bedside, and was communing with
her heavenly Father concerning her need of guidance.
When Leslie awoke, her aunt was sitting by the window with her Bible
on her knee and a sweet look of peace on her face, the morning
sunlight resting on the silvery whiteness of her hair like a
benediction. It was perhaps the soft turning of a leaf that brought
the girl to wakefulness, and she lay for some time quietly watching
her aunt and thinking the deep thoughts of youth. Perhaps nothing
could have so well prepared her for the afternoon talk as that few
minutes of watching Julia Cloud's face as she read her Bible, glancing
now and then from the window thoughtfully, as if considering something
she had read. Julia Cloud was reading over everything that her Bible
said about the Sabbath, and with the help of her concordance she was
being led through a very logical train of thought, although she did
not know it. If you had asked her, she would have said that she had
not been thinking about what she would say to the children; she had
been deep in the meaning that God sent to her own soul.
But when Leslie finally stirred and greeted her, Julia Cloud looked up
with a smile of peace; and there was no longer a little line of worry
between her straight brows.
The peace lasted all through the morning, and went with her down to
breakfast; and something of her enjoyment of the day seemed to pervade
the atmosphere about her and extend to the two young people. They
hovered about her, anxious to please, and a trifle ill at ease at
first lest they should make some mistake about this day that seemed so
holy to their aunt and had always been to them nothing but a bore to
get through with in the jolliest way possible.
There was no question about going to church. They just went. Leslie
and Allison had never made a practice of doing so since they had been
left to themselves. It had not been necessary in the circle in which
they moved. When they went to school, and had to go to church, they
evaded the rule as often as possible. But somehow they felt without
being told that if they tried to remain away now it would hurt their
aunt more than anything else they could do; and, while they were
usually outspoken and frank, they both felt that here was a time to be
silent about their habits.
"We're going to church," said Allison in a low tone as he drew his
sister's chair away from the breakfast-table. His tone had the quality
of command.
"Of course," responded Leslie quietly.
It was so that Julia Cloud was spared the knowledge that her two dear
young people did not consider it necessary to attend church every
Sabbath, and her peace was not disturbed.
The sermon in the little stucco church where they had gone to prayer
meeting that first night was not exceedingly enlivening nor uplifting.
The minister was prosy with dignity, soaring into occasional flights
of eloquence that reminded one of a generation ago. There was nothing
about it to bring to mind the sweetness of a Sabbath communion with
Christ, nothing to remind a young soul that Christ was ready to be
Friend and Saviour. It was rather a dissertation on one of the
epistles with a smack of modern higher criticism. The young people
watched the preacher a while listlessly, and wished for the end; but a
glance at the quiet, worshipful face of their aunt kept them
thoughtful. Julia Cloud evidently had something that most other people
did not have, they said to themselves, some inner light that shone
through her face, some finer sight and keener ear that made her see
and hear what was not given to common mortals to comprehend; and
because she sat thus with the light of communion on her face they,
too, sat with respectful hearts and tried to join lustily in the hymns
with their fresh voices.
The minister came down and shook hands with them, welcoming them
kindly. He seemed more human out of the pulpit, and asked quite
interestedly where they were to live and whether he might call. He
mentioned Sunday school and Christian Endeavor, and said he hoped they
would "cast in their lot" among them; and the young people gave him
cold little smiles and withdrew into themselves while their aunt did
the talking. They were willing she should have her Sabbath, and they
would do all in their power to make it what she wanted; but they were
hostile toward this church and this minister and all that it had to do
with. It simply did not interest them. Julia Cloud saw this in their
eyes as she turned to go away, and sighed softly to herself. How much
there was to teach them! Could she ever hope to make them feel
differently? In two short weeks the college would open, and they would
be swept away on a whirl of work and play and new friends and
functions. Was she strong enough to stem the tide of worldliness that
would ingulf them? No, not of herself. But she had read that very
morning the promises of her Lord, "Surely I will be with thee," "I
will help thee"; and she meant to lay hold on them closely. She could
do nothing of herself, but she with her Lord helping could do anything
He wanted done. That was enough.
Leslie turned longing eyes toward the winding creek and an alluring
canoe that lolled idly at the bank down below the inn as she stood on
the piazza after dinner waiting for her aunt; but Allison saw her
glance, and shook his head.
"Better not suggest it," he said. "There are a lot of picnickers down
there carrying on high. She would not like it, I'm sure. If it were
all quiet and no one about, it would be different."
"Well, there are a lot of people around here on the piazzas," said
Leslie disconsolately. "I don't see the difference."
But, when Julia Cloud came with her Bible slipped unobtrusively under
her arm, she suggested a quiet spot in the woods; and so they wandered
off through the trees with a big blanket from the car to sit on, and
found a wonderful place, high above the water, where a great rift of
rocks jutted out among drooping hemlocks, and was carpeted with
pine-needles.
"It would please me very much," said Julia Cloud as she sat down on
the blanket and opened her Bible, looking up wistfully at the two, "if
you two would go to that Christian Endeavor meeting to-night. I hate
to ask you to do anything like that right away, but that minister
begged me to get you to come. He said they were having such a struggle
to make it live and that they needed some fresh young workers. He
asked me if you didn't sing, and he said singers were very much
needed."
There was a heavy silence for a moment while the two young things
looked at each other aghast across her, and Julia Cloud kept her eyes
on the floating clouds above the hemlocks. She still had that softened
look of being within a safe shelter where storms and troubles could
not really trouble her; yet there was a dear, eager look in her eyes.
Both children saw it, and with wonderful intuition interpreted it; and
because their hearts were young and tender they yielded to its
influence.
Leslie swooped down upon her aunt with an overwhelming kiss, and
Allison dropped down beside her with a "Sure, we'll go, Cloudy, if
that will do you any good. I can't say I'm keen about pleasing that
stiff old parson guy, but anything _you_ want is different. I don't
know just what you're letting us in for, but I guess we can stand most
anything once."
Julia Cloud put out a hand to grasp a hand of each; and, looking up,
they saw that there were tears in her eyes.
"Are those happy tears, Cloudy, or the other kind? Tell us quick, or
we'll jump in the creek and drown ourselves," laughed Leslie; and then
two white handkerchiefs, one big and one little, came swiftly out and
dabbed at her cheeks until there wasn't a sign of a tear to be seen.
"I think I'm almost too happy to talk," said Julia Cloud, resting back
against the tree and looking up into its lacy green branches. "It
seems as if I was just beginning my life over and being a child
again."
For a few minutes they sat so, looking up into the changing autumn
sky, listening to the soft tinkle of the water running below, the dip
of an oar, the swirl of a blue heron's wing as it clove the air, the
distant voices of the picnickers farther down the creek, the rustle of
the yellow beech-leaves as they whispered of the time to go, and how
they would drift down like little brown boats to the stream and glide
away to the end. Now and then a nut would fall with a tiny crisp thud,
and a squirrel would whisk from a limb overhead. They were very quiet,
and let the beauty of the spot sink deep into their souls. Then at
last Julia Cloud took up her Bible, and began to talk.