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T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
January, 1935
Marion Berkeley had been left lonely and deeply hurt by the unworthy conduct o f the gifted young law graduate to whom she had been engaged. In this crisis, she found that though she had re ceived Christ as her Saviour, the present emergency had left her in almost utter despair. Drawn by the realisation that God was very real to the man who that year was giving the Foundation Lectures at the college, Marion asked for an interview. With gentle understanding, Dr. Fenwick recognised Marion’s suffering, and then led her to see that only when God was permitted to have control o f His property could there be the happiness which results from perfect union with Christ. Coming to believe that God’s choice of work for her would offer the best relief, Marion agreed to pray that God would prepare her fo r that work and lead her into it. I t was Christmas time again— ten years later. Marion Berkeley was sitting in her small, unfashionable apart ment in the great city which had been her home for the past eight years. Everything was bleak and cold outside, but inside, all was warm and cheery. The fire in the grate burned brightly, a poinsettia in all its gay wrappings beam ed from a stand near the window, and there were bits o f holly and mistletoe in vases on the piano and the mantel piece. From Marion’s kitchenette across the hall came the smell o f hot rolls and coffee and the sound o f a high-pitched childish voice, interrupted occasionally by one that was measured and slow and elderly. In Marion’s eyes was the light o f happy anticipation as she unconsciously glanced from her book to the street. The years had not made a great deal o f change in her— out wardly; there were some fine lines in the forehead and a paleness which had not been in early youth, but there was, withal, the old expression o f wonder which had somehow dwelt in that face since babyhood. I f anything, it had in creased, rather than decreased. She was wearing a bright red jersey dress which brought out the clearness o f her skin and accentuated the youthful lines o f her figure. Presently the door bell rang, and, jumping to her feet, she ran to open the door. Dr. Fenwick stood there, smil ing, as he took both her hands in his. She made him take the big chair in front o f the fire, while she sat on a low stool at the side, with her back against the wall. “ It’s almost unspeakable to have you here again,” she said. “ So much has happened these ten months you’ve been away, and I have so much to tell you that I wouldn’t write, purely out o f consideration for your eyes and pa tience, and so forth. I f it had been anybody else in the world but you, I ’d have suspected you o f feeding your furnace with those volumes I did write, before you had waded half through them.” “ Those ‘volumes,’ as you call them, Lassie, are my treas ures ; they don’t stand much chance o f a close acquaintance with anybody’s furnace while I live, anyway. It has hurt me that I haven’t been able to see you more often, o f late, but your letters have been a joy beyond words. They have revealed each time a steady growth o f faith for which ‘I thank my God upon every remembrance o f you.’ ” There was a tiny tear on one o f Marion’s black lashes as she looked steadily into his eyes and said, “ I f you thank Him that way for me, what should I say for you? I think it will take me all through eternity to thank Him for using your gentle hand to lead me into the Light. I was honest when I told you that first time that I was a child o f God. I thought so, and probably I was, but if you had not led me to see that my part was to let Him have control o f His prop erty and to see that He knew better what to do with it than I did, well, I shudder to think o f what my life would have been— even thus far. I know my yieldedness has not had in it the element o f constancy that might have been, ought PA R T II L ig h t
Starward to have been, but even as it was, there have come, as a re sult, such ‘white, singing hours o f peace’ as I never dream ed were possible. I told you once that I wanted to be hap py, but I didn’t know then that peace and joy were so much higher degrees than mere happiness.” Both were silent for a few seconds as they looked to gether into the fire, and then she went on, “ And it’s all due to you that I ever found this blessed work—ever knew there was a special work planned for me and waiting for me to come to it. When you found out that the job had been giv en me, on your recommendation, I know you did a lot of praying for me. I ’ve thought since that your prayer for me must have been just what Paul asked for the Colossians, ‘That ye may be filled with the knowledge o f his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, to walk worthily o f the Lord unto all pleasing, bearing fruit in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge o f God; strength ened with all power, according to the might o f his glory.’ Wasn’t it?” “ Perhaps so, in substance. It’s the prayer I need my friends to offer for me. I am so glad you are still happy in the work. I never had a doubt that it was your God- chosen sphere after my first visit with you on the field, soon after you came. You still have the children’s classes four times a week, in the church, with visiting interspersed, I suppose ?” “ Yes, and the most precious children! W e are getting a good number o f foreigners now as well as underprivi leged Americans. It’s so easy to love them. I wish it were half as easy to love grown-ups. I ’m going to show you Sophia in a few minutes. I think I wrote you that I had made this happy arrangement with Mrs. Gathright to take care o f the housekeeping for me and look after Sophia when she is out of kindergarten and not at the church with me. Mrs. Gathright is a gentlewoman, as you will see very readily, and couldn’t bear the idea o f being even partly dependent on charity. I give her her room and board, and the little pension she has takes care o f her other needs. “ But, going back to Sophia, only the One who knew the depths o f my heart-hunger knows what she means to me. It was love at first sight with us both. She was only three then. Her father was German and her stepmother, Pol ish. They were very suspicious o f me, at first, but finally let me take her to our baby class. She trusted me, though, from the first, and put her precious arms around my neck as if I had been her mother. About a year later, her father was accidentally killed at the factory where he worked, and the poor bewildered little stepmother, who had twin babies o f her own, seemed very glad to be relieved o f keeping Sophia. I haven’t taken any steps toward adopting her legally, because there are no relatives in this country, and I
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