LUKE TELLS RACHEL ABOUT HIS DREAM.
"What is Luke doing all day in his study? That sedentary life is very
bad for him and he ought to be visiting his people."
Rachel, who was trying on a little frock for Pat which she had been
making, looked up amused.
"He has visited every one of his people a dozen times since he came
here. In fact he was afraid of over visiting them."
"But then what is he doing all day? He is young and strong and ought to
be at work," said Mrs. Greville, standing in front of Rachel as if she
was in some way to blame. Her face was anxious and perplexed. She could
scarcely understand work without movement, and rush.
"You may be quite sure he is not wasting his time," said Rachel; then
hoping to distract her mother-in-law's thought she held up the baby to
be admired.
"Doesn't he look sweet," she said. "He shall wear this little frock
when we have the villagers to tea. He must look his best."
But once Mrs. Greville was on the war path nothing would move her.
"It isn't as if he had an intellectual congregation to preach to as
he had at Trowsby," she said. "Of course then he had to study and fit
himself for the work. But here they are only uneducated people. I am
sure he cannot want all this time to prepare for them."
"But don't you know that a man like Luke must find it much more
difficult to speak to such people? He has to make everything so plain
and to choose the simplest subjects. I am quite sure he finds it much
harder to prepare his sermons here than he did at Trowsby."
"I don't understand it at all," said Mrs. Greville, moving away to the
window. "And why he should object to me going into his study, I can't
imagine. He does not say in so many words that he prefers my absence to
my presence, but I see it worries him. Of course I used to leave him
quite alone at Trowsby, but then I knew every moment was precious. But
here there ought to be plenty of time for a chat with his mother now
and then."
"I must make the sleeves a little shorter," said Rachel. "Don't you
think so?" She hoped that Mrs. Greville would feel interest in the
baby's frock and would not continue the conversation which was getting
embarrassing. But no. It was of no use trying to turn her thoughts.
"I think it's very sad to see a young man getting so idle and losing
all interest in his people," she said. "It's quite different to what it
was at Trowsby. Of course, he worked far too hard before his marriage
and, indeed, after it, too," she added rather grudgingly. "But I would
far rather he worked too much, than too little."
Rachel's colour rose. She felt indignant.
"But he is working very hard," she said. "He is studying; and you know
the complaint is that the clergy don't study and so can't help their
people in these difficult times. Visiting their parishioners is only
part of the work after all."
"Well, all I can say is that things are very different to what they
were. And I never remember a time in which he did not welcome his
mother." Mrs. Greville did not recollect how carefully she kept watch
over the dining-room, which then stood for his study, so that he should
never be interrupted. "Of course," she added, "I don't suppose I can
quite expect things to be exactly the same as they were before his
marriage. I don't imagine he objects to you going into his study at any
time."
Rachel, glancing at her mother-in-law, was aware of a certain pathetic
eagerness displayed in the expression of her face as she waited for the
answer. The slight indignation that Rachel was conscious of feeling
passed away, and she was glad that she could assure Mrs. Greville that
she never interrupted her husband unless it was absolutely necessary as
she knew he would not like it.
"But," she said, "don't you think that he may have been sent here so
as to give him time to study before some great and important post is
offered him? That is what I love to think. I could not bear to believe
that he would be here all his life. When I am stronger, I hope we shall
go to some town where he can have a larger sphere of work. That is one
of the things that reconciles me to this country living."
"Well," said Mrs. Greville, "I feel that he ought to be doing
something, and not spending all those hours in his study."
"He is doing something."
But Mrs. Greville was only half convinced.
Rachel was feeling stronger so that the conversation with her
mother-in-law did not trouble her as it might have done. It almost
amused her.
That Luke could possibly be wasting his time in his study was so absurd
an idea that it made her smile. She had sometimes wondered herself at
the amount of writing he was engaged in doing; but she had not asked
him about it, as one of his peculiarities was the fact that he did not
care to be questioned about his work. That she would know in time she
had not a doubt. That he was doing anything that she did not know about
did not make her either curious or restless. Apparently it had that
effect on her mother-in-law.
Rachel had noticed that since coming to live with them Mrs. Greville
had shown a propensity for wishing to know exactly what everyone in
the house was doing. She wandered from room to room just to see what
was going on. The servants were not the only people who found it
trying. Rachel felt it getting on her own nerves. She put it down to
a restlessness arising from Mrs. Greville's illness, but this did not
make it less trying. She could seldom enjoy little Pat for long by
himself. Mrs. Greville, under the impression that she was helping,
would come into the nursery while Rachel bathed the child, giving her
various hints as to the best way of doing it. Or she would take up a
great deal of her time giving out her theories on the bringing up of
children, while Rachel was busy putting him to bed. It was just as
much as Rachel could do in her present state of health to dress and
undress the child, and at times she had to pass over what was to her
such a happy duty to Polly, so that to be talked to, and to have to
listen to various theories on the training of children, was tiring in
the extreme. But she felt she must bear it without complaining as Mrs.
Greville had so little in which to occupy her time, and if she was
shown that her advice was not welcome she would grow melancholy.
But till to-day Rachel had had no idea that Luke had found it trying.
His study door was open that evening when after putting Pat to sleep
she went down stairs. At the sound of her footstep, he called her
in, closing the door after her. He was looking a little worried and
distressed.
"I'm afraid I have hurt my mother," he said, "but I find it so
difficult to get on with my work while she is in the room. Three times
this afternoon she has interrupted me at the most unfortunate moment.
I try not to let her know it, but I can't make out what she wants. I
fancy it's only a chat, and I can't chat about nothing in the middle of
my work."
"She has not enough to do," said Rachel, "and feels dull I expect."
"That's unfortunate," said Luke, running his fingers through his hair.
"I'm sorry for her. But I had to tell her I was doing some important
work to-day and that I was sorry to say I could not have a chat just
then. I'm afraid I've hurt her. I think," he added, "that my mother has
altered a little since her illness. She used to have such tact."
"It would help matters if you could tell her what the important
business is," said Rachel, laughing.
"I don't much want to tell her," he said. "I'm afraid she would be
constantly referring to it and I could not stand that. You see dear,"
he said looking down at his wife with shining eyes, "I believe I have
found my work."
"Your work?" said Rachel mystified.
"I believe my prayers are being answered and that I am being shown why
I have been sent here. Sit down. I want to tell you something." He drew
a chair up to the window for her and sat down by her side.
"I never told you that just before we left Trowsby I had a dream. It
was the most painful dream I have ever had and I can't think of it even
now without a shudder. I'd rather not tell you what it was; but it was
nothing more or less than a looking glass in which I saw myself for the
first time, and I want you to know that I believe we left Trowsby for
my sake as well as for yours."
Any great emotion was bad for Rachel, and when Luke turned and looked
at her he was distressed to see how white she had become.
"Am I tiring you dearest?" he said, with concern.
"No. I'm only so very glad to hear what you say," she answered. "The
thought that you had to leave your interesting work for me, has been
such a burden on my mind."
"Well it need be a burden no longer. I believe it was for the sake of
your bodily health that we came here but also for my soul. You see,
I doubt if your soul wants the discipline that mine does. Anyhow, my
spiritual life was not in a healthy condition; I needed to take a back
seat, if you understand what I mean. I am not sure that my work was not
becoming my god, and I was too much in the lime-light. Anyhow, now I
can work for God and for Him alone. I think He has given the work that
is best for me."
Rachel, in her weak state could not prevent the tears of sympathy from
falling, but she brushed them away with her hand, and Luke did not see
them.
"What is the work?" she asked.
"I'm writing a book for young men. When I was in Trowsby I often felt
the need of one which faced the difficult problems of the day honestly
and wisely. I am trying to contend earnestly for the faith. Of course
it means the need of much prayer and study."
Rachel held out her hand and Luke grasped it in his own.
"You see how much better it is for me than preaching," he explained. "I
don't mean to put my name to the book, and shall never know what it has
done for people. God only will know that, so there will be no chance
of conceit and pride getting the better of me in my work. I do not see
how I can forget God in the work as I need Him every moment. I feel I
am contending with the devil and he does not leave me alone. But no-one
knows but God—and now," he added, "my wife."
Rachel had never loved her husband or admired him more than she did at
that moment. She sat and looked at him with her heart in her eyes; but
she did not speak.
"I meant to keep it a secret," he said, "till I could put the finished
book into your hands. But now you know. I have sent the first few
chapters to Sharnis and he is pleased with them and quite hopes to
undertake its publication. But I don't want anyone to know about it.
Now do you think you can help me about my mother? I don't feel as if I
could be constantly asked questions about it. It's such a sacred thing
to me that I cannot talk about it. Besides, as I'm not putting my name
to the book, it is important that no-one should know that I'm writing
it."
"She would be so pleased that she would find it difficult to keep the
fact to herself."
"That's just it."
"What a pity though that she will never know," said Rachel.
"Perhaps sometime after its publication I may tell her, but not now.
But can you manage to keep her from disturbing me without hurting her?
A woman can generally do this kind of thing better than a man. I would
not hurt my dear mother for the world if I could help it."
They neither of them heard the door open and then softly close again,
and Luke never knew that his mother had turned away from his study
murmuring:
"Luke was talking to Rachel about me! His mother! I never thought he
would talk to anyone about his mother." The pain was almost too much to
bear.
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