The Angel of His Presence (6 page)

THEY were all gone at last, and the house was settling to quiet. John Stanley went to his room, shut his door, and sat down to think.

It had not been the unpleasant occasion to which he had looked forward.
He had not even been bored. He was astonished to find himself regarding the evening not only with satisfaction, but also with an unusual degree of exhilaration. It did seem strange to him, now that he thought about it, but it was true.

New interests were stirring within him.
Or
were they old ones?
He had gathered that group of boys about him with their
teacher, after Mrs. Ketchum had broken up his quiet talk with Miss Manning, and had talked with them about the places he visited in the Holy Land, dwelling at some length upon the small details of what he had seen in Jerusalem, and the probable scene of events connected with the picture.

He had grown interested as he saw the interest of his audience. He realized that he must have talked well. Was it the intent gaze of th
ose bright, keen-eyed boys, lis
tening and glancing now and again toward the picture with new interest, as they heard of the city and its streets where this scene was laid, that gave him inspiration?
Or
had his inspiration come from that other rapt, sweet face, with earnest eyes fixed on the pict
ure, and yet showing by an occa
sional glance at the speaker that she was listening and liked it?

Yes, it had been a happy evening, and over all too quickly. He would have liked to escort Miss Manning to her home, but her pony phaeton, driven by a faithful old servant, came for her, so he missed that pleasure.

He found himself planning ways in which he might often meet this charming young
woman.
And
strange to say, the mission with its v
arious services stood out pleas
antly in his mind as a means to this end. Had he forgotten his firm resolution of a few days past, that he would have no more to do with that mission in any capacity whatever?

If this question occurred to
him
he waived it without excuse. He was pledged to attend the session of the school for the next Sabba
th anyway, to give in
more elab
orate form
the talk about the picture and the scenes in Jerusalem of which he had spoken to the boys. It had been Miss Ma
n
ning's work, this promise, of course. She had said how grand it would be to have him to tell the whole school what he had told her class, and had immediately interviewed the present superintendent, who had been
only too
delighted to accept the suggestion.

And now
he sat by his fire, and with somewhat different feelings from those he had experienced a few evenings before, thought over his old life and his new. Strange
ly enough the "
ladye
of high de
gree" came no longer to his thoughts, but instead there stood in shadow behind the leather chair a slender, girlish figure with
an earnest face and eyes, and by and by he gave himself up to contemplating that, and he wondered no longer that the boys had given up many things to please her. He would not find it so very hard to do the same.

How earnest she had been! What a world of new meaning seemed to
be invested
in the sacred scene of that picture after she had been talking about it. He had followed up her desire to read the account with it
in view, and begged her most eagerly to come and read it and let him be a humble listener, offering also in a wistful tone, which showed plainly that he hoped she would accept the former, to let her have the picture at her home for a time.

It would be v
ery pleasant to read any
thing, even the Bible, with this interesting young person and study the workings of her min
d. He could see that she was un
usual. He must carefully study the subject so as not to be behind her in Bible lore, for it was likely she knew all about it, and he did not wish to be ashamed before her. He reached over to the table where he had laid the little
fine print
Bible they had been consulting earlier in the evening. It had
been so long since he had made a regular business of r
eading his Bible that he scarce
ly knew where to turn to find the right passages again, but after fluttering the leaves a few minutes he again came to the place and
read:
"Now when the
even
was come, he sat down with the twelve. And as they did eat, he said, Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me."

The young man stopped reading, looking up at the picture involuntarily, and then dropped his eyes to the fire. What was it that brought that verse home to himself? Had he in any sense betrayed his Lord?
Was it only t
he natural inquiry of the truth
ful soul on hearing those words from the Master and on looking into his eyes to say sorrowfully, "Lord, is it I?" or was there some reason for it in his own life that made him sit there, hour after hour, while the bright coals faded, and the ashes dropped away and lay still and white upon the hearth?

Thomas, the man, looked silently in once or twice, and marveled to find his master reading what seemed to be a Bible, and muttered, "That pictur
e
," to
himself
as he went back to his vigil. At last he ventured
to open the door and say in a respectful tone, "Did you call me, sir?" which roused the master somewhat to the time of night, and moved him to tell his man to go to bed and he would put out the lights.

The days that followed
were filled
with things quite different from what John Stanley had planned on his return voyage. He made a good start in his business, and settled into regular working hours, it is true; but in his times of
leisure
he quite forgot that he had intended to have nothing to do with the mission people. He spent three evenings in helping to cover Sunday school library books and paste labels into singing
books. Prosaic work and much be
neath him he would have considered it a short time ago, but he came home each time from it with an exhilaration of mind such as he had never experienced from any of the whist parties he had attended. It is true there were some young men and young women also pasting labels, whose society was uninteresting, but he looked upon even those with leniency.
Were they not all animated
by one common object, the good work for the mission? And there
was also
present and pasting with the others,
with deft fingers and quiet grace, that one young girl around whom all the others seemed to gather and center as naturally as flowers turn to the sun. She seemed to be an inspiration to all the others.

John Stanley had not yet confessed that she was an inspiration to
himself
. He only admitted that her society was helpful and enjoyable, and he really longed to have her come and read those chapters over with him.
Just how to manage this had been a puzzle.
Whenever he
spoke
of it the young lady thanked him demurely, and said she would like to come and look at the picture sometime; but he had a feeling that she would not come soon, and would be sure he was not at home then before she ventured. This was right, of course. It was not the thing, even in America, for a young woman to call upon a young man even to read the Bible with him. He must overcome this obstacle. Having reached
this
conclusion he called in his mother to assist.

"By the way, mother," he said the next evening at dinner, "I met a very agreeable gentleman on the voyage over, a Mr. Manning. H
e is the father of the Miss Man
ning who was here the other evening, I believe. Do you know them? I wish you would have them to dinner some night. I would like to show him some courtesy."

The mother smiled and assented. It was easy for he
r to do nice little social kind
nesses.
And so
it was arranged.

After
dinner
it was an easy thing for John Stanley to slip away to the library with Margaret Manning, where they two sat down together before the picture, this time with a large, fine leather edition of the Bible to read from.

That wa
s an
evening which
to John Stan
ley was memorable through the rest of his life.
He had carefully studied the chapters himself, and thought he had searched out from the best commentators all the bright new thoughts concerning the events that the imagination and wisdom of man had set down in books, but he found that his companion had studied on her knees, and that while she was not lacking either book knowledge or appreciation of what he had to say, she yet was able to open to him a deeper spiritual insight.
When she was gone, and he sat alone in his room once more, he felt that it
had been glorified
by her presence. He lingered long before that
picture with
searchings
of heart that meant much for his future life, and before he left the
room
he knelt and consecrated himself as never before.

In tho
se
days
there were evening meet
ings in the mission and he went. There was no question in his mind about going; he went gladly, and felt honored when Mr. Manning was unable to escort his daughter and he
was allowed
to take his place. There was a
nutting
excursion for the school, and he and Miss Manning took care of the little ones t
ogether. When it was
over
he re
flected that he had never enjoyed a
nutting
party more, not even when he was a
care
free boy.

It came about gradually that he gave up smoking. Not that he had at any given time sat down and deliberately decided to do so, at least no
t until he found that he had al
most done so. There was always some meeting or engagement at which he hoped to meet Miss Manning, and instinctively he shrank from having her know that he smoked, m
indful of what his evening visi
tors had told him. At first he fell into the habit of smoking in the early morning as he walked in the garden, but once while thus
engaged he saw the young woman coming down the street, and he threw away his cigar a
nd disappeared behind the shrub
bery, annoyed at himself that he was doing something of which he seemed to be ashamed. He wanted to walk to the fence and speak to her as she passed by, but he was sure the odor of smoke would cling to him. Little by
little
he left off smoking lest she would detect the odor about him. Once they had
a brief conversation on the sub
ject, she taking it for granted that he agreed w
ith her, and someone came to in
terrupt
them ere
he had decided whether to speak out plainly and tell her he was one whom she was condemning by her words. His face flushed over it that night as he sat before his fire. She had been telling him what one of the boys had said when she had asked him why he thought he could not be a Christian: "Well, I can't give up
smokin
', and we know he never would 'a' smoked." That had seemed a conclusive argument to the boy.

Was it true that he was sure his Master never would have done it? Then ought he, a professed follower of Christ? He tried to say that Miss Manning had peculiar views
on this subject and that
those boys were unduly influenced by her
; and he recalled how many good followers of Christ were addicted to the habit.
Nevertheless, he felt sure that no one of them would advise a young man to begin to smoke and
he also
felt sure about what Jesus Christ would do.

It had been a long time since he had tried himself and his dai
ly conduct with that sen
tence, "What would Jesus do?" He did not realize that he was again falling into the way of it. If he had, it might have made him too satisfied with
himself
.

There came to be many nights when he sat up lat
e looking into the fire and com
paring his life with the life of the Man whose p
ictured eyes looked down so con
stantly into his own. It was like having a shadow of
Christ's presence with him con
stantly. At
first
it had annoyed him and hung over him like a pall, that feeling of the unseen Presenc
e which was symbolized by the ski
llful hand of the artist.
Then it had grown awesome, and held him from many deeds and words, nay even thoughts, until now it was growing sweet and dear, a presence of help, the eyes of a friend looking down upon him in all his daily actions, and unconsciously he was beginning to wonder whenever a course of conduct was presented to his mind whether it would seem right to Christ.