September, 1933
303
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
■ B ¡ 0 ■ y ^ n e c y ^ a u r e i c y ^ e a j aurei By GWENDOLINE A. LEAR
d è s b i c * W é
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I, , t w a s Easter Sunday, and Raymond Ashley’s congregation had listened to his sermon, enthralled under the spell o f its mighty message. Then he walked slowly to the front o f the rostrum, with a hymn book in his hand. The deep, mellow notes o f a rich baritone voice soon filled the building. Every word could be distinctly heard: ; “ Take the world, but give me Jesus, All its joys are but a name; But His love abideth ever, Through eternal years the same. “Take the world, but give me Jesus, Sweetest comfort of my soul; With my Saviour watching o’er me, I can sing though billows roll. . . .”
visit to your manse, you will excuse my bold intrusion if I take a little o f your time.” She looked carefully at her wrist watch, and began to speak rapidly: “ After listening to the sermon you delivered so forcibly tonight, and the song you chose to sing at the close, I decided to choose the world and leave you free. You are changed since our college days—and—and— I think it was a mistake.” She did not meet his eyes while she delivered this seemingly heart less farewell to her lover, but her lips wfere very dry, and her quick, short breaths betokened her controlled emo tion.
mind to travel down . . to the old white
She allowed her the home road . church.
Raymond Ashley stood looking at the girl before him with silent pain in every line o f his handsome face, grown white. “ You are right, Geraldine,” he assented after a painful silence. “ I have changed—but not in my affection for you.” “ Nonsense, Raymond!” she answered curtly. “ You stated in your sermon that a Christian, to be a real Chris tian, must die to this world—must separate from it, not walking with unbelievers! You said that two could not walk together except they were agreed. Well, we’re not agreed! So—you have settled things nicely for us without any more ado about it!” “ Do you mean, Geraldine, that you wish me to free you from your promise to be my w ife?” “ Y e s !” There was another painful silence in the study, broken only by the loud chatter of Mrs. Dalton and her visitor in the outer room ; then Raymond spoke in slow, measured tones: “ Do you mean that you are going to deliberately turn your back upon Christ and choose the companionship of the world that crucified Him ?” . “ Your phraseology hurts me. I am no accomplice of the A .A .A . Society! I am simply going to make use of the talent with which God has endowed me by giving it out to the lovers of grand opera!” “ How long has it been since you came to this decision ?” questioned Raymond very quietly. “ A month a go ; and I want you to understand that in my choice I am not becoming an idle lover o f the world, as you term it; but I enter a hard and strenuous life of endless study and practice, using up all the strength that is in me to brighten the sorrows of life and to lift the people to a love o f the world’s best music. My voice is my talent—not given to me to hide in a little Erskine church!” She spoke recklessly, and the man listening to her noted the sound o f a turbulent spirit in her voice. “ Geraldine,” he said quietly, “ won’t you accept Jesus Christ tonight ?” She hesitated, while playing nervously with one of the laurel leaves o f his plant. Then she broke out passion-
He sang on through the four stanzas. Then under the solemn spell o f the message so faithfully preached and rev erently sung, Raymond Ashley walked home to his manse, and closed himself within the somber walls of his study. “ No, Mrs. Dalton,” he had said to his kindly old house keeper’s suggestion of a cup o f cocoa to refresh him, “ I really don’t need anything, thank you.” Scarcely had he thrown himself wearily into his study chair and turned the light on, than a visitor was announced by Mrs. Dalton: “ Miss Geraldine Villiars wishes to see you, s ir!” The young minister was seated under the soft shade o f the light, with his arms resting upon a well-worn desk, 7 his face buried in his hands. In an instant, he had risen to his feet to greet the girl who had followed Mrs. Dalton to the threshold o f her master’s study. “ The young lady’s maid is waiting in the vestibule,” warned the old housekeeper with an air o f mystery. Geraldine Villiars stood in the doorway for a moment in silence, while she swept the room with a lingering look. It struck her as lonely and uncomfortable— no bright draperies or cushions, no pictures o f real art, nor open grate, with coals o f fire to cheer the atmosphere. There were two windows; one was almost completely hidden by a large laurel plant; the other was left free and bare with the sole right of admitting fresh air. Its occupant was standing with the laurel at his back and one hand resting upon his desk, as though to steady himself. Her eyes scanned him as they had scanned his room. He was no mean man to look upon; he was tall and strong and manly. “ Raymond,” she began abruptly, “ I know this is out o f our established order; but as it will be my first and last *This story, under another title, appears in slightly amplified form in the author’s excellent volume, “ One Mediator,"published by John Ritchie, Ltd. {see page 307).
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