God's Good Man Part 71

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me down to lie In pleasant fields where the lilies grow, And the river runneth by."

Maryllia listened, watching them. The declining sunlight, pale as it was, shed luminance upon the awkward stumpy boys, and bashfully shrinking girls, as with round, affectionate eyes fixed upon her, they went on tunefully--

"The Lord is my Shepherd; He feedeth me, In the depth of a desert land, And, lest I should in the darkness slip, He holdeth me by the hand.

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want, My mind on Him is stayed, And though through the Valley of Death I walk, I shall not be afraid!"

Here, something like a sob interrupted the melody. Some one in the little choir broke down,--but Cicely covered the break with a tender chord, and the young voices rose above it.

"The Lord is my Shepherd; O Shepherd sweet, Leave me not here to stray, But guide me safe to Thy heavenly fold, And keep me there, I pray!"

With each verse, the harmony grew sweeter and more solemn, till Maryllia, lying back on her pillows with closed eyes through which the tears would creep despite herself, began to feel earth very far away and heaven very near. At the 'Amen,' she said:

"Thank you! That was beautiful! Do you mind singing the third verse over again?"

They obeyed, looking at Cicely for the lead.

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want; My mind on Him is stayed, And though through the Valley of Death I walk, I shall not be afraid!"

There was a silence.

"Now," breathed Cicely softly--"now the Amen!"

Full and grave came the solemn chord and the young fresh voices with it,--

"A--men!" And then Cicely went up to Maryllia and bent over her.

"Are you pleased, dearest?"

She was very quiet. There were tears in her eyes, but at the question, she smiled.

"Very pleased! And very happy! Take the children away now and give them tea. And thank them all for me,--say I will see them again some day when I am stronger--when I do not feel inclined to cry quite so easily!"

In a few minutes all the little scuffling shuffling feet had made their way out of the room, and Maryllia was left to herself in the deepening twilight,--a twilight illumined brightly every now and again by the leaping flame of a sparkling log fire. Suddenly the door which had just been closed after the children, gently opened again, and Cicely entering, said in rather a tremulous voice--

"Mr. Walden is here, Maryllia."

Whereat she quickly disappeared.

Maryllia turned her head round on her pillows and watched John's tall straight figure slowly approaching. A delicate, Spring-like odour floated to her as he came, and she saw that he carried a bunch of violets. Then she held out her hand.

"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Walden!"

He tried to speak, but could not. Without a word he laid the violets gently down on the silk coverlet of her couch. She took them up at once and kissed them.

"How sweet they are!" she murmured--"The first I have had given to me this year!"

She smiled up at him gratefully, and pointed to a chair close beside her.

"Will you sit near me?" she said--"And then we can talk!"

Silently he obeyed. To see her lying there so quietly resigned and helpless, nearly unmanned him, but he did brave battle with his own emotions. He took her little offered hand and gently kissed it. If to touch its soft smooth whiteness sent fire through his veins, there was no sign of feeling in his face. He was grave and strangely impa.s.sive.

"I am grieved to see you like this---" he began.

"Yes, I am sure you are!" she quickly interrupted him--"But please do not talk about it just now! I want to forget my poor crippled body altogether for a little while. I've had so much bother with it lately! I want to talk to you about my soul. That's not crippled.

And you can tell me just what it is and what I am to do with it."

He gazed at her in a kind of bewildered wonder.

"Your soul!"--he murmured,

"Yes." And a shadow of sad and wistful thought darkened her features--"You see I may not live very long,--and I ought to be properly prepared in case I die. I know you will explain everything that is difficult to me,--because you seem to be sure of your faith.

You remember your sermon on the soul, when I came to church just that once?"

He bent his head. He could find no words with which to interrupt her.

"Well, I have often thought of it since,--and I have longed--oh, so much!--to make a confession to you! But may I ask you one or two questions first?"

His dry lips moved--and he whispered, rather than spoke--

"You may! But are you not distressing yourself about matters which-- which perhaps--could wait---?"

Her blue eyes regarded him with a wonderful courage.

"Dear Mr. Walden, I don't think I ought to wait,"--she said, very earnestly--"Because really no one has ever done anything for me in a religious sense,--and if I AM to die, you are the only person in the world who can help me."

He tried to rouse his wandering, ebbing energies.

"I will do my best,"--he said, slowly--"My best, I mean, to answer your questions."

"You will?--As a clergyman, as a friend and an honest man?--yes, I felt sure you would!" And she spoke with almost pa.s.sionate eagerness--"I will put you through your catechism, and you shall, if you like, put me through mine! Now to begin with,--though it seems a strange thing to ask a clergyman-do you really believe in G.o.d?"

He started,--wakened from his trance of mind by sheer amazement.

"Do I really believe in G.o.d? With all my soul, with all my heart, I believe in Him!"

"Many clergymen don't,"--said Maryllia, gravely studying his face,-- "That is why I asked. You mustn't mind! You see I have met a great many Churchmen who preach what they do not practise, and it has rather worried me. Because, of course, if they really believed in G.o.d they would he careful not to do things which their faith forbids them to do."

He was silent.

"My next question is just as audacious as my first,"--she went on after a pause--"It is this--do you believe in Christ?"

He rose from his chair and stood tenderly looking down upon her. His old authoritative energy inspired him,--he had now recovered himself sufficiently to be able to trample down his own clamorous personal emotions for the time and to think only of his spiritual duty.

"I believe in Him as the one Divine Man ever born!" he said.

"Is that quite sufficient for orthodoxy?" And she looked up at him with a half smile.