The Prospector Part 11

"Well, I rather hope not," muttered Brown to himself as he crossed the room to where Helen was seated. Pausing a moment beside her he said in a low tone, "The Don has had an offer on the new railway construction in the West--two years' appointment. Go and talk to him about it. Looks fierce, doesn't he?" And Helen, nodding intelligently, lingered a moment and then moved to where The Don sat, while Brown went toward the piano. "Must get these youngsters inoculated with the Occidental microbe," he muttered as he took his place beside Mrs. Fairbanks, who was listening with pleased approval to the "Maying" duet, the pauses of which Brown industriously employed in soothing her ruffled feelings. So well did he succeed that when he proffered the humble request that the young ladies should be allowed to accompany him to Shock's church in the morning, Mrs. Fairbanks gave a reluctant a.s.sent.

"Undoubtedly, I am a great strategist," said Brown to himself next morning as he sat watching with surrept.i.tious glances the faces of the young ladies beside him. The preacher was at his best. The great land where his life mission lay, with its prairies, foot-hills mountains, and valleys, and all their marvellous resources, was spread out before the eyes of the congregation with all the pa.s.sionate pride of the patriot. The life of the lonely rancher and of his more lonely wife, the desperate struggle for manhood by the mean of the mine and the railroad and the lumber camp, the magnitude of the issues at stake; the pathos of defeat, the glory of triumph, were all portrayed with a power that compelled the sympathy of his hearers, while the shrewd common-sense vein that ran through all convinced their intellects and won their confidence. Perplexity, wonder, horror, compa.s.sion, filled their hearts and were reflected with rapid succession on their faces, as he told his stories of the wreck of human lives and consequent agony of human hearts.

"By Jove! they've got it," exclaimed Brown to himself. "The dear Mrs.

Fairbanks has no anti-toxine for this microbe." His eyes turned to Shock and there were held fast. "He's got it, too, confound him," he grumbled. "Surely, he wouldn't be beast enough to leave his old mother alone." The mother's face was a strange sight. On it the anguish of her heart was plainly to be seen, but with the anguish the rapt glory of those who triumph by sacrifice.

As the congregation broke up the young ladies hurried to greet Mrs.

Macgregor. From the day of the football match they had carefully and persistently nursed the acquaintance then begun till they had come to feel at home in the Macgregor cottage. Hence, when Betty fell into severe illness and they were at their wits' end for a nurse, they gladly accepted Mrs. Macgregor's proffered help, and during the long anxious weeks that followed, the whole family came to regard with respect, confidence, and finally warm affection, the dignified old lady who, with such kindly, shrewd, and tender care, nursed the sick girl back to strength. Helen especially, who had shared the long watch with her, had made for herself a large place in her heart. To-day, after an exchange of greetings, Helen drew Mrs. Macgregor back and allowed the others to go on. For some time they walked in silence, Helen holding the old lady tight by the arm.

"Well, what do you think of that?" she said finally. "Wasn't it wonderful? It makes one proud to be a Canadian. What a country that must be! If I were only a man! It's too bad that men have all the good things. Wouldn't you like to go yourself?"

"That I would," said the old lady eagerly, "that I would. But I doubt it's not for me. But yon's a man."

"Yes," cried Helen enthusiastically, "he is a man to follow. Of course, it was a strange sermon for a church--those stories of his, I mean, and all those figures about coal beds and gold and cattle. I'm not used to that sort of thing and I don't like to see the people laugh."

"Ay, he's wise," replied the old lady shrewdly. "When a man laughs he's nearer to letting his money go. Ay, he's wise, yon man."

"Of course, I think he's extreme," said Helen. "You would think to hear him there was no place but the West and that every young minister must go out there and give up everything."

"There's few to go, I doubt," said the old lady in a musing tone, "and yon are terrible-like places for those lads to live."

"Yes, but everyone can't go."

"No, no. That's it. That's just it. Not many can go and not many are fit to go. But those that can--" the old lady paused, drawing her breath in sharply.

"But surely a man may do his work without giving up everything he holds dear," persisted Helen.

"'Forsaketh not all that he hath,'" quoted the old lady softly.

"Yes, but that's not for everybody," insisted Helen.

"'Whosoever,'" quoted Mrs. Macgregor again, with a stern relentlessness in her tone. "Ay, there will be no slipping out from under yon."

"But surely," argued Helen, "it is not reasonable to think that every young minister is bound to forsake home and friends, and all that, and go out to these wild places."

"Not every one will be called. The application will not be easy for any of us, I doubt. Oh, no! it will not be easy."

"But surely, Mrs. Macgregor, there are other claims upon men."

"There iss only one claim, la.s.sie, only one claim. His claim is the first. All other claims will just be working out that first one. Ay, that's it," she said, as if arriving at decision, "only one claim. G.o.d peety us! One claim," she added with a sudden break in her voice.

At that break Helen glanced at the old lady. The strong face was working strangely. The tears were slowly making their way down the wrinkled face.

"Oh, Mrs. Macgregor!" exclaimed Helen, "that seems an awfully hard doctrine. Do you think G.o.d ever wants a man to leave father, mother, wife, helpless behind?"

"No, no, la.s.sie, not helpless. But--," she could go no further. "But,"

she continued after a moment or two, clutching Helen by the arm, "he--will--be--going--away, la.s.sie, he will be going away. He will be leaving me and--it iss the will of the Lord. Oh! la.s.sie, la.s.sie, heed me not. He must never see the tears on my face."

"Don't! don't!" cried Helen in a sudden anguish. She had no need of further words to tell her what the old lady meant. "He would never do such a thing! He could not do it!"

"Could not?" answered Mrs. Macgregor. "Ay, he could," she said proudly.

"Thank G.o.d he could. He will not be shaming his blood. But oh! it iss himself will carry a sore heart away with him and leave a sore heart behind."

"Oh, Mrs. Macgregor!" cried Helen, while her breath came fast and her hand went to her own heart, "perhaps he will not think it to be his duty. Perhaps he will not--"

"Indeed, indeed, and I saw it in hiss face last night, and clearer than ever to-day. He ha.s.s heard the voice and it iss for him to obey--and for us."

They were near Mrs. Macgregor's home, where the others stood waiting for them at the gate.

"May I come to see you?" said Helen hurriedly.

"Ay, come," said Mrs. Macgregor with a keen look at her, "you will be needing--I will be needing help."

The others they found eagerly discussing the sermon, but there was little criticism. The Superintendent had won his volunteers. On Shock's face sat the serenity of a great decision, in his deep blue eyes the light of a great enterprise. As he said good-bye to Helen, she became aware that his usual hesitating, nervous awkwardness had given place to quiet, thoughtful dignity. A great resolve and a great sacrifice had lifted him far above things small and common.

V

"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO"

When Helen entered her own room she had leisure to a.n.a.lyse the tumult of emotion filling her heart. Amazement, shame, anger, dismay, grief, were surging across her soul.

"How can he think of leaving his mother? It is a shame!" she cried indignantly to herself. But why this hot sense of shame? "Nonsense!"

she protested vehemently to herself, "it is that poor, dear old lady I am thinking of." She remembered that sudden stab at her heart at the old lady's broken words, "He will be going away, la.s.sie," and her cheek flamed hot again. "It is all nonsense," she repeated angrily, and there being no one to contradict her, she said it again with even greater emphasis. But suddenly she sat down, and before long she found herself smiling at the memory of the old lady's proud cry, "Could not? Ay, he could." And now she knew why her heart was so full of happy pride. It was for Shock. He was a man strong enough to see his duty and brave enough to face what to him was the bitterness of death, for well she knew what his mother was to him.

"He will go," she whispered to her looking-gla.s.s, "and I'd go with him to-morrow. But"--and her race flamed hot--"he must never know."

But he did come to know, to his own great amazement and overwhelming, humbling gladness.

Shock's determination to offer himself to the far West awakened in his friends various emotions.

"It is just another instance of how religious fanaticism will lead men to the most fantastic and selfish acts," was Mrs. Fairbanks' verdict, which effected in Brown a swift conversion. Hitherto he had striven with might and main to turn Shock from his purpose, using any and every argument, fair or unfair, to persuade him that his work lay where it had been begun, in the city wards. He was the more urged to this course that he had shrewdly guessed Helen's secret, so sacredly guarded. But on hearing Mrs. Fairbanks' exclamation, he at once plunged into a warm defence of his friend's course.

"The finest thing I ever heard of," he declared. "No one knows what these two are to each other, and yet there they are, both of them, arriving at the opinion that Shock's work lies in the West."

"But to leave his mother alone!" exclaimed Mrs. Fairbanks indignantly.

"She is not to be alone," said Brown, making there and then a sudden resolve. "By the greatest of luck for me I am turned out of my quarters, and she is to take me in, and while I can't fill Shock's place, still I am somebody," added Brown, fervently hoping the old lady would not refuse him shelter.

"I am not sure that a man is ever called to leave his mother to the care of strangers," said Lloyd, who, after long indecision and much consultation with various friends, had determined that his particular gifts and training fitted him for Park Church.

"Oh! blank it all!" said Brown to Helen, "I can't stand that rot!"

"I beg your pardon," said Mrs. Fairbanks, looking haughtily at Brown through her gla.s.ses.