An Ambitious Man Part 6

"No, it is a simple truth--an unfortunate fact," the young man replied. "I preach sermons at such members of my church, but they seldom take them home. They think I mean somebody else. These are the people who follow the letter and not the spirit of the church.

But one such member as you, recompenses me for a score of the others.

I felt I must come to you with the Marah Adams affair."

Joy was still thinking of the reflection the rector had cast upon his congregation. It hurt her, and she protested.

"Oh, surely," she said, "you cannot mean that I am the only one of the professed Christians in your church who would show mercy and sympathy to poor Miss Adams. Surely few, very few, would forget Christ's words to Mary Magdalene, 'Go and sin no more,' or fail to forgive as He forgave. She has led such a good life all these years."

The rector smiled sadly.

"You judge others by your own true heart," he said. "But I know the world as it is. Yes, the members of my church would forgive Miss Adams for her sin--and cut her dead. They would daily crucify her and her innocent child by their cold scorn or utter ignoring of them.

They would not allow their daughters to a.s.sociate with this blameless girl, because of her mother's misstep.

"It is the same in and out of the churches. Twenty people will repeat Christ's words to a repentant sinner, but nineteen of that twenty interpolate a few words of their own, through tone, gesture or manner, until 'Go and sin no more' sounds to the poor unfortunate more like 'Go just as far away from me and mine as you can get--and sin no more!' Only one in that score puts Christ's merciful and tender meaning into the phrase and tries by sympathetic a.s.sociation to make it possible for the sinner to sin no more. I felt you were that one, and so I appealed to you in this matter about Marah Adams."

Joy's eyes were full of tears. "You must know more of human nature than I do," she said, "but I hate terribly to think you are right in this estimate of the people of your congregation. I will go and see what I can do for this girl to-morrow. Poor child, poor mother, to pa.s.s through a second Gethsemane for her sin. I think any girl or boy whose home life is shadowed, is to be pitied. I have always had such a happy home, and such dear parents, the world would seem insupportable, I am sure, were I to face it without that background.

Dear papa's death was a great blow, and mother's ill health has been a sorrow, but we have always been so happy and harmonious, and that, I think, is worth more than a fortune to a child. Poor, poor Marah-- unable to respect her mother, what a terrible thing it all is!"

"Yes, it is a sad affair. I cannot help thinking it would have been a pardonable lie if Miss Adams had denied the truth when the girl confronted her with the story. It is the one situation in life where a lie is excusable, I think. It would have saved this poor girl no end of sorrow, and it could not have added much to the mother's burden. I think lying must have originated with an erring woman."

Joy looked at her rector with startled eyes. "A lie is never excusable," she said, "and I do not believe it ever saves sorrow.

But I see you do not mean what you say, you only feel very sorry for the girl; and you surely do not forget that the lie originated with Satan, who told a falsehood to Eve."

CHAPTER X

Ever since early girlhood Joy Irving had formed a habit of jotting down in black and white her own ideas regarding any book, painting, concert, conversation or sermon, which interested her, and epitomising the train of thought to which they led.

The evening after her walk and talk with the rector of St Blank's, she took out her note-book, which bore a date four years old under its t.i.tle "My Impressions," and read over the last page of entries.

They had evidently been written at the close of some Sabbath day and ran as follows:-

Many a kneeling woman is more occupied with how her skirts hang than how her prayers ascend. I am inclined to think we all ought to wear a uniform to church if we would really wors.h.i.+p there. G.o.d must grow weary looking down on so many new bonnets.

I wore a smart hat to church to-day, and I found myself criticising every other woman's bonnet during service, so that I failed in some of my responses.

If we could all be compelled by some mysterious power to THINK ALOUD on Sunday, what a veritable holy day we would make of it! Though we are taught from childhood that G.o.d hears our thoughts, the best of us would be afraid to have our nearest friends know them.

I sometimes think it is a presumption on the part of any man to rise in the pulpit and undertake to tell me about a Creator with whom I feel every whit as well acquainted as he. I suppose such thoughts are wicked, however, and should be suppressed.

It is a curious fact, that the most aggressively sensitive persons are at heart the most conceited.

I wish people smiled more in church aisles. In fact, I think we all laugh at one another too much and smile at one another too seldom.

After the devil had made all the trouble for woman he could with the fig leaf, he introduced the French heel.

It is well to see the ridiculous side of things, but not of people.

Most of us would rather be popular than right.

To these impressions Joy added the following:-

It is not the interior of one's house, but the interior of one's mind which makes home.

It seems to me that to be, is to love. I can conceive of no state of existence which is not permeated with this feeling toward something, somebody or the illimitable "nothing" which is mother to everything.

I wish we had more religion in the world and fewer churches.

People who believe in no G.o.d, invariably exalt themselves into His position, and wors.h.i.+p with the very idolatry they decry in others.

Music is the echo of the rhythm of G.o.d's respirations.

Poetry is the effort of the divine part of man to formulate a worthy language in which to converse with angels.

Painting and sculpture seem to me the most presumptuous of the arts.

They are an effort of man to outdo G.o.d in creation. He never made a perfect form or face--the artist alone makes them.

I am sure I do not play the organ as well at St Blank's as I played it in the little church where I gave my services and was unknown.

People are praising me too much here, and this mars all spontaneity.

The very first hour of positive success is often the last hour of great achievement. So soon as we are conscious of the admiring and expectant gaze of men, we cease to commune with G.o.d. It is when we are unknown to or neglected by mortals, that we reach up to the Infinite and are inspired.

I have seen Marah Adams to-day, and I felt strangely drawn to her.

Her face would express all goodness if it were not so unhappy.

Unhappiness is a species of evil, since it is a discourtesy to G.o.d to be unhappy.

I am going to do all I can for the girl to bring her into a better frame of mind. No blame can be attached to her, and yet now that I am face to face with the situation, and realise how the world regards such a person, I myself find it a little hard to think of braving public opinion and identifying myself with her. But I am going to overcome such feelings, as they are cowardly and unworthy of me, and purely the result of education. I am amazed, too, to discover this weakness in myself.

How sympathetic dear mamma is! I told her about Marah, and she wept bitterly, and has carried her eyes full of tears ever since. I must be careful and tell her nothing sad while she is in such a weak state physically.

I told mamma what the rector said about lying. She coincided with him that Mrs Adams would have been justified in denying the truth if she had realised how her daughter was to be affected by this knowledge. A woman's past belongs only to herself and her G.o.d, she says, unless she wishes to make a confidant. But I cannot agree with her or the rector. I would want the truth from my parents, however much it hurt. Many sins which men regard as serious only obstruct the bridge between our souls and truth. A lie burns the bridge.

I hope I am not uncharitable, yet I cannot conceive of committing an act through love of any man, which would lower me in his esteem, once committed. Yet of course I have had little experience in life, with men, or with temptation. But it seems to me I could not continue to love a man who did not seek to lead me higher. The moment he stood before me and asked me to descend, I should realise he was to be pitied--not adored.

I told mother this, and she said I was too young and inexperienced to form decided opinions on such subjects, and she warned me that I must not become uncharitable. She wept bitterly as she thought of my becoming narrow or bigoted in my ideas, dear, tender-hearted mamma.

Death should be called the Great Revealer instead of the Great Destroyer.

Some people think the way into heaven is through embroidered altar cloths.

The soul that has any conception of its own possibilities does not fear solitude.

A girl told me to-day that a rude man annoyed her by staring at her in a public conveyance. It never occurred to her that it takes four eyes to make a stare annoying.