26
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
January 1930
“ ‘ Ye are not your own, for ye are bought with a price.’ ” It seemed to burst from him. But he received no answer from the girl, who had begun now to drive very rapidly. “ Althea, He gavé His life for you—this Jesus whom you are refusing, whose children you are scorning.” “ I ! I did not scorn them. They left me and now I am seeking new friends.” “ Could they have continued with you, my child, when you openly denied the Saviour they love and serve?” No answer. Althea was busy with her emergency brake, which seemed to be out of order. They would be on the highway soon. “Althea,” her old friend was saying, “ Paul wished himself accursed that his brethren might be saved. I would give my very life to see you where your grand father thought to see you—safe in the Lord.” They swung into the highway without a word. The acceleration of their speed was immediate and terrific. Althea did not know that her companion closed his eyes and prayed. She had not time to look at him, for sud denly out from a driveway came a large red delivery truck. She reached for the brakes. . . . . ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ “ Do you think he will live, Doctor?” Althea realized that her voice, which issued from under divers bandages, had been asking that question many times before. In deed, it was the one thing she had held to in this strange universe which seemed to have been swirling about her for an eternity or two. “ Will he live ?” She could not make them understand, somehow. “ Give her this.” And once again, off she went into a silent spaciousness that was strangely full of suns and stars of great magnitude. When Althea awoke, she knew that it was night and that her nurse was asleep in her chair. She could see her in the dim light. Was he dead? she asked herself again. Was Uncle Alan dead? Had she killed him? Her mind seemed oddly clear now. She recalled quite perfectly what someone had been saying as she came out of the unknown : “ Yes ! Her cbllar bone and several ribs are broken and her shoulder is badly sprained and there are some scalp wounds from a broken windshield, but she will recover all right . . . . .” She swooned off then, but a few minutes later came back to hear : “Just another noble life a sacrifice to modern youth!” It was that old doctor—the distinguished-looking one with the white imperial. “ ‘Youth must be served,’ ” he was quoting it scornfully; “an unsafe saying, and a curse it will prove to this generation, too!” Was Uncle Alan dead? Perhaps her question had been inarticulate because of the strange bandages every where. There was no doctor here to ask now. If she awoke her nurse she would be put to sleep again, and she wanted to think. She went over it all and always arrived at this question: Was he dead? Had she killed him? O f course they would not tell her. Shock, and all that! She closed her eyes. Uncle Alan was dead, or dying—she knew it! She felt it to be so. What mad folly had caused her to fling herself out upon the highway that morning when she knew her brakes were not working as they should? Well, it was the same mad folly that had been actuating her life for a long time now. She realized it here, on her back, in the night, for the first time. If she had taken
time to consider, she might have realized it sooner, how ever. That was where the hurt came in. Uncle Alan might be alive and well now if she had considered— if she had listened— if she had done any of the things she ought to have done. But she had resisted and turned rebelliously away from all of God’s warnings. Now she was tasting the fruit of all this and it was bitter. What lives, and good and holy causes had been injured by the taking away of Uncle A lan! It was incalculable how many peo ple he was continually reaching and winning for his Lord’s work. God alone could estimate the damage that had been done His cause—the cause He had died for-—the saving of men! And she was to blame. All her hardened young nature gave way and sagged wretchedly under the weight of it. She saw now that there was no strength in her. She had only imagined herself to be a strong-willed char acter— it had been vanity and pride and hardening o f her self against every right impulse. Worst of all, there was no Uncle Alan left to whom she might turn and tell it all. She began to see that she had unconsciously leaned upon his friendship—she had known she could go to him at any time, sure of a hearing—and now it was forever too late. To whom of all her young, fashionable friends might she go? Her heart rejected them in a strong rush of feeling. Ugh! The girls, with their over-crimson lips, and the men, with their incessant banter—what could they, or would they do for her in this extremity? Her own action had forever removed the only one she knew on earth..............A clock somewhere struck eight. And she had thought it must be midnight at least! Was it not in the Bible—something about in the morning saying would it were evening, and at night, would it were morning ? She knew now what it meant, and with all her soul dreaded to face the leaden-footed hours and days. At this point a groan’$escaped her, and the nurse, aroused from her slumbers, hastily came to her side. Althea had her eyes shut. The nurse felt her pulse and left the room. As soon as she had gone, Althea started to pray. ’ “ Oh, God, oh, Lord, I do not know what Thou art or where! Or how to pray! I only know Thou didst say to come to Thee by way of Christ; and, Lord, I am coming just that way. Thou didst say, ‘Come unto me . . . . and I will give thee rest.’ Lord, I come. Only for give me! Only help me to undo the terrible wrongs I have done! ‘Take my life, and let it be cdnsecrated, Lord, to Thee.’ ” Althea’s lips were hardly able to form this first prayer; but He, who sees the really repentant heart and gathers up so readily our first poor efforts to obey Him, heard it and answered. And His first gift to her was Peace. H* * sfc * * If Uncle Alan had not been praying— if he had not had his eyes shut— if he had been in any way on the alert to save himself when Althea’s car crashed into the delivery truck, he might have been injured. As it was, the door of the car on his side, against which he was leaning, flew open wide. When he got into the car he may have failed to really shut it tight. As it flew open, he fell heavily onto the asphalt pavement, spraining his arm and badly bruising one side of his face. That was a ll! What rejoicings took place around his fireside that Christmas Day! What thanks went up to the One who had watched oyer him! And how the entire household, down to Little Sister, flew to wait on him; to cut up his dinner, and to open all his Christmas packages— no slight task, as his presents came to him from all sorts of places and people, the world over. And how Uncle Alan him-
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