June 1931
26 7
B u s i n e s s
T h e
K i n g ’ s
She was still trying to straighten out in her own mind the sequence of events. How had it happened ? Oh, yes! After they had reached Paris, Mrs. Sumner had decided that she must be the one to go with Constance to Cher bourg. . “Since Connie is the one they especially wish to be there, because of her appeal to Rodney, she must go. But why all of us? Too cumbersome! You and Beatrice are over twenty, Althea, and you are perfectly safe in this good hotel where we are known.” After Constance’s sober little countenance, looking more like a white pansy than ever, had been whisked away in a taxi beside her aunt, to take the boat train, Althea and Beatrice turned to each other with the thrill ing realization that they were young, and that one of the most beautiful cities in the world was theirs, so to speak, for two or possibly three days. Notre Dame, and the Madeleine, of course! The Cluny, too, and the old gate, Porte St. Martin! And the tapis verte, not of course, and Napoleon’s early quarters, and the Hall of Straw, and Marie Antoinette’s tiny cell, and the court that ran with the blood of the aristocracy of France! The Louvre they resolved to do in sections. They managed, too, to eat a great deal of Rumpelmeyer’s delicious confiseries. In the midst of a -planned expedition to the Saillens Evangelical work outside the city, Constance and Mrs. Sumner returned. Rodney had not been on the boat. There was no sign of him. There was no possibility of his ever having been on the boat, they were told. “But there is a large, interesting, fat-looking letter for you, Mamma, that may contain some news,” Althea said, as she hastily tore open a letter just received from Elise. A moment later her mother exclaimed: “This is terrible! Althea, your father is ill. We must leave at once—oh, girls! Help me to pack: Connie, find out when the next boat leaves—either from France or England. Find out, too, some one, if sailing earlier than we planned will affect our passports.” In a moment all was tumult and action. Paris was no longer a gay city to be enjoyed, but a place of busy crowd ed thoroughfares to be threaded by departing travelers and to be left behind. No one had noticed Althea’s look of astonishment when she first, scanned Elise’s letter. But now she seized Constance’s hand. “Come, Cousin!” she said with an effort to be calm and to steady them all. “Beatrice dear, you will be the best one to help mother pack. We know our way to the ticket agent. Bear up, darling,” 'to her mother. “God will hear us when we ask Him to care for Father.” The girls sped along side by side. “Connie, I ’ve got to tell you, part of it, at least,” Al thea broke out. “What?” cried Constance. “I cannot go into detail—yet, but—oh, Connie! We’ve got to leave Beatrice here.” “Beatrice not to go with u s !” exclaimed Constance al most stopping short. “Was it Elise’s letter?” “Yes,” said Althea. “I had written her of Beatrice— here’s the ticket place. Connie—I ’ll have to tell her!” They found that the boat that would get them to New. York in the quickest possible time would leave in three days from Liverpool. They decided, as they hur ried back to their rooms, that they would induce Mrs. Sumner to spend tomorrow in London with an old friend,
and let the girls follow the next day. That would give them a little time with Beatrice. “And the worst of it is,” said Althea, “that I must not let her know the reason—not all of it. I don’t dare tell you yet, either, because you’re such a transparent dear! Let’s be praying constantly. We must show moth er, and Beatrice, too, how sufficient Christ is in a crisis o,r difficulty.” After they had arranged all as Althea thought best, for they found Mrs. Sumner bewildered and very willing to be guided by her daughter, they packed and telephoned and ate a hasty and tardy dinner and went late to bed. The next day, Mrs. Sumner crossed the Channel, and Althea and Constance were just about to begin to tell Beatrice something of what was on their minds, when a delayed letter arrived, which bore the good news that Althea’s father was slightly improved—not to come! “How strange it is,” reflected Althea, “that in the midst of all the tumult yesterday, and now this new as pect which sets all the currents of our beings rushing back to the attractions of Europe, that I feel the sweetest peace and the deepest calm! It’s just the Lord! I t’s the bird on the bush overhanging the torrent with the water raging all around, yet perfectly secure! ‘In all these things, we are more than conquerors.’ ” A telegram was now sent to Mrs. Sumner after some difficulty in locating her. She replied: “Come to London. Meet me at 16 Bolton Street.” “Mother will wish to go back now, I ’m afraid,” Althea said. “We’ll cable, but it won’t make any difference. She has started back toward Father, and she’s still nervous, poor dear. We’ll have to make up our minds to go, Connie.” And so it turned out. And this was why Beatrice found herself alone in the most interesting city in the world. “If they had told me,” she repeated over and over, “if they had only told me why! But it’s so hard just to blindly wait here for several weeks and then to go over alone! Oh, is it any use! Why struggle any longer ? Is there any work for me to do in the world ? Oh, Covenant- God ! There’s a cloud over me! Help me to see the rainbow in the cloud!” And thus it was that Beatrice happened to, meet Miss Crystal Lansdowne at a very unusal hour on London Bridge. (To be continued ) O u r Hope It has been alleged that ¿he hope of the second advent is a dreamy, mystical sentiment which disqualifies one for the active fulfillment of the duties of life. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Those who cherish that an ticipation, who awake in the morning saying, “Perhaps it will be today,” who go to their sleep whispering to their hearts, “Perchance I shall be changed into His likeness in a moment as I sleep, and wake in my resurrection body” —these are among the most devoted, strenuous and suc cessful workers in the church of Jesus Christ. They are not recognized in the daily or religious press, but God knows and honors them,
“O blessed hope, with this elate. Let not our hearts be desolate, But strong in faith and patience wait, Until He come”
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