The Right Knock Part 26

It was a beautiful day, one of those mild, hazy days of October that seem made to teach humanity some of its most sacred lessons. Nature is the best of teachers if we know how to read her mystic pages, her many and varied beauties, her wide diversities of expression, her fine subtlety of language, for she is the handmaid of Truth, inasmuch as she holds before our admiring eyes pictures of Truth and its wondrous laws.

If we can interpret the pictures, we are wiser and better and happier.

Grace was ever ready to listen to the oracles of nature, but now they held a sweeter message than ever before, and she keenly antic.i.p.ated the pleasure in store for her as she seated herself in the car and disposed of her sketching materials for the half hour's ride to Rosewood, a pretty little woodland station near Hampton.

She generally walked the mile and a half to the farmhouse in the edge of the woods, where she had made the acquaintance of a kind hearted old lady, who loaned her a great Newfoundland dog belonging to the house, for company in her rambles.

Mrs. Clayland was rejoiced to see her, for it had been several weeks since Grace had called, and she was eager to tell her of the great tree up in the ravine that had been blasted by the lightning, and about the beautiful little waterfall caused by the Cherry Creek freshet.

Grace listened patiently as she rested, and asked questions that she had asked many times before, because it pleased the old lady to tell of all the beautiful spots and dainty bits of landscape in her vicinity. That was next to being the artist.

Prince stood by, looking with intelligent eyes, first at the visitor and then at his mistress, wagging his tail wistfully as though eager to be off, for he seemed to realize that this was his holiday too.

"Are you ready to go, Prince?" asked Grace, patting the dog on the head as she looked into his great brown eyes.

Prince licked his mouth and pushed his nose close under her hand while his tail wagged violently. "Yes, of course he is. I wish my old limbs would let me go too, but I can't even hobble to-day for the rheumatism has been dreadful the last week," said Mrs. Clayland, as she wiped her spectacles.

Grace hardly knew what to say, for here was just the place for a little sympathy, and yet she must shut her eyes to false beliefs and conditions, so she wisely talked of the beautiful day, the warm air, and what not, while secretly resolving that Mrs. Clayland should be her first patient if she ever knew how to treat patients according to the Christ method. In the mean time, she would give her some thoughts.

While Mrs. Clayland volubly rattled on, talking of all her aches and pains, Grace was doing her best to think of the very opposite statement, that she was well.

At last, however, with Prince trotting gaily in front of her, she began her rambles in earnest. She knew of a beautiful view from one of the hills near by, and slowly wended her way thitherward. The hush and quiet of the place seemed such a relief after the troubled hours of the past night, and as she came to the gentle slope of the gra.s.sy hill, she threw herself into the soft warm gra.s.s, in the shade of a stately elm that stood there alone, and gave herself up to thinking--thinking of the deepest and most sacred problems in human experience.

Prince came and laid himself at her feet. The soft autumn sunshine played here and there upon her form and face through the leaves, while the occasional note of a bird or hum of an insect were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the lonely place. What an exquisite pleasure to lie there and breathe in all this wonderful peace, for it was like a taste of heaven. Far away from all perplexities and cares, she could have lost herself in sweet forgetfulness but for this one theme that would persist in thrusting itself upon her. At last it had resolved itself into the form of a question. Should she or should she not write to Leon Carrington? Might it not be possible she had been misinformed, and that she was mistaken in her hasty conclusions?

Life presented a different aspect now from what it had two years ago.

She was more lenient in her judgments, more charitable in her opinions, more softened in her pride; changed more than she ever realized until she began the self examination on this point. To be sure she had desired to change in these respects, since she had seen a glimpse of the possibilities of Christian life. She had denied all qualities of character in herself that seemed undesirable, and had affirmed charitableness, patience, wisdom, but that she could ever have changed her mind on this subject seemed incredible and utterly inconsistent.

And yet, what could she say to him? She had no answer, certainly no encouragement. The only thing she could do would be to tell him frankly what her thought and judgment had been, without going into details, and learn the truth of the matter; but that, she would never do. Whatever injury she had inflicted through her silent, erroneous thoughts should be as silently redressed by her best and most generous ones.

Over an hour she lay there, no nearer the solution of her problem than when she began. It was getting late, and she rose hurriedly, shook the leaves and gra.s.s from her dress, and opening her sketch book, set to work.

An opening to the left in the woods revealed a view of lovely meadows and wooded hills, clothed in all the gorgeous robes of autumn, with a misty blue haze enshrouding them, and gleams of a silvery river winding through meadow and woodland. She rapidly sketched the outlines, studied the beauteous blending of tints, and wondered meanwhile, what particular lesson she could learn or give by this beautiful picture. Again she looked at the scene before her. Suddenly there came into her mind some lines she had often admired:

"Oh, the peace at the heart of Nature, Oh, the light that is not of day!

Why seek it afar forever, When it can not be lifted away?"

Ah, here was the key. "The peace of Nature," typical of divine peace, "The Light not of day," divine Light itself. How sweet the thought, how precious the lesson; and the divine Peace and Light _are_ indeed forever here. Could she throw such a divine message into her prospective painting? Could she make every form and color, every hint of light and shadow, tell the sweet story, as this living picture told it? Surely, the heart that overflows with an inbreathing of the divine, must be able to teach the common heart of humanity, else what is the use of inspiration?

On her way back to the house, Grace pa.s.sed the blasted tree, described by Mrs. Clayland, but she had no desire to study destruction or death.

It was life, living things, that she would portray. Was there not beauty and grandeur everywhere, hinting of Infinity? Even the noisy and monotonous waterfall now had a message for her as it rushed forcefully on its course, regardless of any and all obstructions.

It was quite late when Grace and Prince returned, much later than she supposed, so that she missed the train and had to wait for the next, several hours later. Mr. Clayland kindly volunteered to take her to the station, an offer she was very glad to accept.

The lamps were already lighted when she entered the car. She slipped into the first vacant seat, but caught a glimpse of a face several seats in front of her that made her heart beat hurriedly and her breath come quick and fast for a few moments.

She resolutely avoided looking anywhere but out of the window, and at the end of her journey quietly but quickly disappeared in the surging crowd.

CHAPTER XXVII.

"Let me not dwell so much within My bounded heart with anxious heed, Where all my searches meet with doubt, And nothing satisfies my need; It shuts me from the sound and sight Of that pure world of life and light Which has no breadth, or length, or height."

--_A. L. Waring._

Kate had long ago become accustomed to these uncertain movements of Grace, and was therefore not alarmed at her prolonged absence. She sat in a cozy chair, reading the last letter from Mrs. Hayden, when Grace entered.

"What makes you look so sober, Gracious?" she asked, tenderly, after the hat and sketch book were laid aside and they had settled themselves for their usual chat.

"Oh, Kate, I had a lovely time to-day, with all the beautiful sights out in the country; I wish you could see how much more there is in nature since we have studied Christian Healing," was the evasive reply.

"I think we see more in everything," said Kate, whose curiosity was rather _piqued_ by the evasiveness, though she made no sign, "because everything stands for something. It is like the x in algebra, and interesting as the unknown quant.i.ty."

Grace smiled a little. She was thinking of a different kind of "unknown quant.i.ty."

"Don't you want to hear Mrs. Hayden's letter?" asked Kate, wondering more and more over the _distrait_ manner and dreamy absorption of her friend.

"The letter, why, of course; where is it?"

"Here; shall I read it?"

"Certainly."

Grace grew more interested as the reading went on. "That is decidedly the most reasonable explanation of the atonement I have ever heard," she exclaimed at the close.

"Yes, it is reasonable and beautiful I must admit," said Kate, "but when I first read the letter my old fear came back for a moment that possibly it was all wrong, but I remembered my right to an interpretation. That one thought has been more helpful to me than any other, for it has brought such a sense of liberty. Then I looked up the quotation about the 'word of reconciliation,' and I must say it is so perfectly plain I can not see why it has been so overlooked and neglected before."

"Where is it? I did not catch that," said Grace, following Kate's finger as she pointed to the pa.s.sage in the Bible.

"There is something so sacred in these meanings," resumed Kate, "and if I may only get the truth, I care not what any one says about it. I see now wherein lies the whole misconception or misinterpretation rather. It is in the idea of G.o.d. If we conceive of Him as limited to human ways and capacities, as the ancient Hebrews did, we naturally ascribe such works to Him."

"In other words," added Grace, "we judge G.o.d entirely by ourselves. If we are broad and loving in our nature and character it is easy for us to regard G.o.d as love. If we are vindictive and revengeful, we can readily see Him as angry and unrelenting."

"Yes, we are so apt to judge the whole world and G.o.d, too, by our moods," replied Kate, thoughtfully.

"As Emerson says, 'we see in others what we are ourselves,'" quoted Grace, removing her jacket which until now she had retained in order to get warm after her evening journey.

"Oh! what do you think of what Mrs. Hayden says about marriage?" asked Kate, putting her pencil in her mouth as she held both hands out to a.s.sist Grace.

"She doesn't say enough to give an opinion," replied Grace, "but there must be something in her mind or she would not write about it now."

"Her ideas must be very exalted, and I hope to know what they are, for it is a very important question," said Kate, with a casual glance toward her companion, as she bit the end of the pencil.

"Mrs. Hayden decidedly denies the imputation laid to Christian Healing, that it is opposed to marriage, or that it tends to separate families,"

said Grace, with more interest than Kate would have thought possible a week ago.

"I did not know any such imputation had been laid to it," rejoined Kate, opening her eyes in astonishment.