Mrs. Walton was sitting right beside Parley. Now he turned so he could more easily face her, but still he did not look down at her. “My companion and I were directed to this city by the Spirit of the Lord, with a promise that we should find here a people prepared to receive the gospel. But when we came and were rejected by all parties, we were about to leave this city.”
Now finally he looked down at Mrs. Walton. When she saw him looking at her with those piercing eyes, she looked away quickly, embarrassed by his attention. Now Parley’s voice softened, and he spoke more slowly. “But then the Lord sent a widow, at the very moment we were preparing to depart, and thus my companion and I have been cared for like Elijah of old.” He smiled gently. “And now, dear Sister Walton, I bless your house, and all your family and kindred in His name. Your sins shall be forgiven you. You shall understand and obey the gospel, and be filled with the Holy Ghost.”
Her eyes were shining when she finally looked up at him. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then immediately she turned to look at the circle of rapt listeners. One by one they began to nod. Satisfied, she turned back to Parley. “Well, Mr. Pratt, this is precisely the message we were waiting for. We believe your words and are desirous to be baptized.”
Nathan caught himself as he realized his mouth had dropped open and he was gaping at Mrs. Walton. Again several heads around the table were bobbing up and down to signify their agreement. But that was nothing compared to the shock he received next. Parley smiled around at the group, but he was shaking his head. “It is your duty and privilege to be baptized. But wait a little while until we have the opportunity to teach the others with whom you are religiously affiliated, so that you may all partake of the blessing together.”
* * *
The next morning was gray and overcast, the humidity putting a definite chill in the air even though it was the third week in April. They had stayed up well past midnight answering questions from the group Mrs. Walton had gathered, and Nathan and Parley showed signs of having had little sleep. But nothing could dampen the spirits of the two missionaries as they joined the Walton family for morning prayer and an excellent breakfast fare.
Nathan watched Mrs. Walton closely to see if she was feeling any disappointment over Parley’s suggestion that she delay her baptism. But she greeted them with enthusiasm, and the moment grace had been said over the food, she turned to the two elders. “Mr. Pratt, Mr. Steed. Would you mind if I asked you a question?”
“Of course not,” Parley boomed, spearing a thick piece of sausage onto his plate.
“Last night you spoke of your commission.”
“Yes.”
“You are both elders in the Church?”
Parley seemed reticent to take the lead this morning and looked to Nathan.
“Yes,” Nathan said, “both Brother Pratt and I hold the office of elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood.”
She nodded quickly, pressing on. “In the book of James it says, ‘Is any sick among you? let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord.’ ” She hesitated now, not wanting to appear to be too forward. “Last night Brother Pratt spoke of healing the sick. Is that part of your commission too?”
Nathan smiled. “You know your Bible well, Mrs. Walton. Yes, we believe that the authority given to us includes the privilege of laying hands on the sick.”
John Walton, who was nearly sixteen, had been following the conversation closely. Now he spoke through a mouthful of scrambled eggs to his mother. “Are you thinking of Widow Compton, Ma?”
His mother nodded firmly, then turned back to her guests. “Would you consider visiting her this morning? She is a dear friend and in such need.” She looked first to Nathan, then to Parley.
Parley set down his fork. “But of course. Tell us more about her.”
“She is a woman who has met more than her share of tragedy. Her husband died of cholera about two years ago. She has four little children to support and was forced to resort to teaching school in order to care for them.”
Nathan thought of some of the widows he had known, frontier farmers’ wives who could barely read and write themselves. “She was fortunate to have enough learning to qualify as a teacher.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Walton agreed. “Except now even that is taken from her.”
“She’s gone blind!” little twelve-year-old Laura chimed in.
“Yes,” John said, clucking his tongue. “She’s totally blind.”
* * *
When the raging inflammation struck both of Mrs. Compton’s eyes at the same time, within days the pain was so intense and the swelling so complete that she was totally unable to see. No longer able to teach school, she and her children became public wards, cared for by the Methodist society as best their meager means would allow. The economic havoc the disability had wreaked on the family was evident the moment Laura turned the two missionaries in at the tiny house in a poorer section of Toronto. The yard was cluttered with discarded furniture and tools. The door hung loosely from rusty hinges. Dirty sheets and blankets hung at each of the windows. From inside came the faint sound of a young child screaming its lungs out. There was a deeper voice, the words not quite intelligible but seeming to direct someone to help the child.
Nathan looked at Parley, who merely shook his head slowly. If Laura Walton was shocked by the situation, she gave no sign of it. She walked right up to the door, banged twice on it sharply, then immediately opened it and stuck her head inside. “Mrs. Compton,” she called cheerfully, “it’s Laura Walton. My mother has asked me to bring someone to see you.”
Nathan peered through the door, trying to see into the gloom of the house, but everything inside seemed perfectly black. With the opening of the door, the howling of the child was now loud and piercing.
“Charlene,” a woman’s voice shouted. There was a tired desperation to it now. “
Please
get your sister.”
There was the sound of grumbling from the voice of a girl who Nathan guessed could not be much older than eight or ten, then footsteps. In a moment, the cry started to lessen, first to a fussy wail, then finally to a whimper.
Again the woman’s voice spoke. “Tell me again? Laura Walton, is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Compton. My mama asked me to bring two visitors to see you. Can we come in?”
There was a murmur of shock, perhaps even a hoarse no. Nathan leaned forward, straining to hear.
“They’re men of God, Mrs. Compton,” Laura said firmly. “They’ve come to see if they can help you.”
Nathan gave Parley a sharp look. Oh, the faith of a child! Parley nodded soberly, and Nathan felt a little stir of uncertainty down in his stomach. What had Mrs. Walton gotten them into here?
There was another sound, and while Nathan again could not distinguish what it was, Laura took it as an invitation. She opened the door and stepped back. “There you go, Mr. Pratt, Mr. Steed. Please help her.”
Once inside, they stood in the small entryway for a moment, letting their eyes adjust to the deep gloom. Gradually things came into focus. It was one room, with a small alcove off the far wall. There was very little furniture—a mattress with wadded up bedclothes in the corner; a sofa that was low to the floor, obviously so worn as to be no longer serviceable to anyone else; and a wooden table with a single chair. The woman sat on that chair, seemingly staring at them, her eyes a white slash in the darkness. With a start, Nathan realized she wore a white rag around her eyes.
The noise of the little child noisily sucking on her thumb drew his eye to one corner. The older sister was not as old as Nathan had guessed. Either that or she was very small for her age. She looked to be barely six. She was holding a little girl who probably was not two yet. Suddenly he realized two more children—both boys, one maybe three, one four or five—were staring at them from almost right beneath their feet. The floor was strewn with things Nathan couldn’t identify. The table was likewise a clutter of nameless things. The odor in the room was strong, musty, almost fetid.
“Mrs. Compton,” Parley said softly, starting across the room toward her, “my name is Parley P. Pratt. I’m from America. I have Mr. Nathan Steed as my companion. Your good friend, Mrs. Walton, asked us to come.”
Nathan started to follow. His foot kicked something and sent it off clattering. A wooden cup. The boys started to giggle wildly.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Compton said, too quickly, “I’ve been meaning to clean, I . . .” She let it die, seeming to realize how empty it sounded.
Parley was to her now and took her hand. “It’s all right, Mrs. Compton. Mrs. Walton has told us all that has befallen you.”
“Bless Isabelle Walton,” the muffled voice said fervently. “She is a true Christian woman.”
Closer now too, Nathan was shocked to see that she could be no more than thirty. The impression from across the room had been of a woman in her fifties. She was clad in a long nightgown, which even in the darkness he could see was soiled and worn. Nathan wondered how long it had been since she had been dressed. Her hair was matted and tangled. But suddenly he felt an overwhelming sense of love and compassion for this woman. Two years ago what had she been like? Happy, educated, safe, secure. Then a husband dies. Then inflammation strikes. Sight is taken from her. How quickly life can snatch happiness away!
He reached out and touched her arm. “We’re here, Mrs. Compton. We want to help you.”
There was a quick clamp on his hand and a desperate pressure from her fingers. “God bless you, sir.”
“May we open the curtains a little, Mrs. Compton, to let in a little light?”
“No!” The fingernails dug into the back of Nathan’s hand. “No,” she said more softly, “even this much light brings me excruciating pain. I cannot bear the tiniest sliver of sunlight.”
Parley straightened. He began to speak, softly and soothingly, but with quiet power. He told her of their call to come to Toronto, and of their coming to the Taylor home and then to the Widow Walton’s. He told her of the previous night’s meeting, and of Mrs. Walton’s request that morning.
“We are ministers of Jesus Christ, Mrs. Compton. Do you believe me when I say that?”
There was a long pause. Even the youngest child seemed to sense that something different was happening. All four children watched the tableau in the middle of the room without a sound. “Yes,” she finally said.
“Do you believe Jesus Christ has the power to heal you?”
There was another pause, then a muffled sob. “Yes.”
Parley turned to Nathan and nodded. He took a small jar of oil from his pocket and handed it to Nathan, who stepped around behind the woman, took the stopper from the bottle, and gently poured one drop onto the crown of her head. Then, after handing the jar back to Parley, he reached out and laid his hands on the woman’s head. “Mrs. Compton, in the name of Jesus Christ, and by the power of the Melchizedek Priesthood which I hold, I anoint your head with this oil that has been consecrated for the express purpose of healing the sick. And this I do to the end that you may be blessed of God. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
He lifted his hands. Parley placed his hands on the woman’s head, and Nathan, feeling a great sense of awe coming over him, laid his hands on top of Parley’s.
“Mrs. Emmaline Compton,” Parley began, “by the power and authority given to me, and in the name of Jesus Christ, I seal this anointing upon your head. The Lord is mindful of you, Mrs. Compton. He is mindful of your sorrow and of your affliction. He is mindful of your needs.”
There was the briefest pause, then Parley’s voice rose in solemn majesty. “By the power of the Master who loves us all, I now say unto you, Mrs. Compton, that your eyes shall be well from this very hour. The Lord has looked down on you in mercy. Give him the glory, for it is his will that you shall see again. We say these things by the power of his authority and in his holy name, amen.”
“Amen.” Nathan dropped his hands to his sides.
The woman was openly crying now, and Nathan saw that Parley had let one hand drop to rest upon her shoulder. Then suddenly she stopped. Her hands came up in front of her, as though she were looking at them, which was impossible because she still had the heavy bandage around her eyes. She stood up slowly, and both men stepped back. “The pain is gone,” she whispered.
“What did you say?” Nathan asked, leaning forward to hear.
“The pain is gone!” One hand shot up to the back of her head and untwisted the strip of cloth. She let it fall from her face to the floor. “It’s gone,” she said again, turning first to look at Parley, then to Nathan.
“Mama?” One of the little boys had stood up. He sounded frightened.
In three steps she crossed the room to the front window. With one swipe of her hand the blankets came down. Though it was still gray and overcast outside, it was as though the room was flooded with sunlight. Laura Walton stood in the front yard, stunned at the sight of the woman at the window. Mrs. Compton waved, then without lowering her hand, began caressing the glass in tiny circular patterns.
Suddenly her shoulders began to shake and she buried her face in her hands. “I can see,” she sobbed. “I can see.”
Chapter Seven
The home of the Honorable Mr. William Patrick was in one of Toronto’s finest neighborhoods. It was a large two-story home, set well back from the street. The white paint looked as new as yesterday, the dark green shutters as if they had been hung earlier in the day. The lawns were immaculately trimmed, the gardens profuse with shrubbery and flowers. It was a Sabbath afternoon in Upper Canada—the first Sabbath after Nathan and Parley’s arrival—and the two missionaries were approaching the Patrick home with two newly found friends. Earlier that day they had gone to worship services with one of the men who had been coming to the meetings at Mrs. Walton’s home. After the services, he had taken them up and introduced them to the preacher, who then invited them all home for dinner. During the meal, the minister told them about a group of people who met twice a week to study the Bible and see if they could find the truth. He said they were to meet that very afternoon and asked if Parley and Nathan wished to attend. Parley, with his usual aplomb, casually responded that yes, he thought that might be an enjoyable thing. Now as they saw the house where the meeting was to be held, Nathan was suitably impressed.