 | CHAPTER XLVII.
“PRAYER IS MIGHTY.”
CHRISTINE A CHRISTIAN. Barriers burned away |  |
47. CHAPTER XLVII.
“PRAYER IS MIGHTY.”
CHRISTINE A CHRISTIAN.
The day was now declining, and the fire in that part
of the city opposite them had so spread itself, that they
were beginning to have a little respite from immediate
danger. The fiery storm of sparks and cinders was falling
mostly to the northward.
Dennis now ventured to sit down almost for the first
time, for he was wearied beyond endurance. The tremendous
peril to the one most dear to him, had kept him alert long
after he ought to have had rest, but over-taxed nature now
asserted its rights, and the moment the sharp spur of
danger was removed, he was overpowered by sleep.
Christine spoke to him as he sat near, but even to
her (a thing he could not have imagined possible) he rereturned
an incoherent reply.
“My poor friend, you do indeed need rest,” said she
in kindest accents.
He heard her voice like a sweet and distant harmony
in a dream, swayed a moment, and would have fallen over
in utter unconsciousness on the sands, had she not glided
to his side and caught his head upon her lap.
In the heavy stupor that follows the utmost exhaustion,
Dennis slept hour after hour. The rest of the day was a
perfect blank to him. But Christine, partially covering
and shading his face with the edge of her shawl, bent
over him as patient a watcher as he had been her brave
deliverer. It was beautiful to see the features once so
cold and haughty, now sweet with more than womanly
tenderness. There upon that desolate beach, cold, hungry,
homeless, shelterless, she was happier than she had
been for months. But she trembled as she thought of
the future; everything was so uncertain. She seemed
involved in a labyrinth of dangers and difficulties from
which she could see no path. She knew that both store
and home had gone, and probably most, if not all, of her
father's fortune. She felt that these losses might greatly
modify his plans, and really hoped that they would lead
him to remain in this country. She felt almost sure that
he would not go back to Germany a poor man, and to
stay in America was to give her a chance of happiness,
and happiness now meant him over whom she bent. For
world for him, but now existence was scarcely endurable
without him. To the degree that her love had been
slowly kindled, was it intense, the steady concentrated
passion of a strong, resolute nature, for the first time fully
aroused. All indecision passed from her mind, and she
was ready to respond whenever he should speak; but
woman's silence sealed her lips, and more than maiden
delicacy masked her heart. While she bent over him
with an expression that, had he opened his eyes, might
have caused him to imagine for a moment that his sleep
had been death, and he had wakened in heaven, yet he
must needs awake to find that the look and manner of
earth had returned. Her sensitive pride made her
guarded even in expressing her gratitude, and she purposed
to slip his head off upon her shawl whenever he
showed signs of awakening, so that he might believe the
earth only had been his resting-place.
But now in his unconsciousness, and unnoted by all
around, indeed more completely isolated by the universal
misery and apathy about her than she could have been in
her own home, with a delicious sense of security, she bent
her eyes upon him, and toyed daintily with the curling
locks on his brow. Whatever the future might be, nothing
should rob her of the strange unexpected happiness of
this opportunity to be near him, purchased at such cost.
As she sat there and saw the fire rush and roar away
to the northward, and the sun decline over the ruins of her
earthly fortune, she thought more deeply and earnestly of
life than ever before. The long, heavy sleep induced by
the opiate had now taken away all sense of drowsiness,
and never had her mind been clearer. In the light of the
terrible conflagration many things stood out with a distinctness
that impressed her as never before. Wealth and
half aloud:
“That which can vanish in a night in flame and smoke
cannot belong to us, is not a part of us. All that has come
out of the crucible of this fire is my character, myself. It
is the same with Mr. Fleet; but comparing his character
with mine, how much richer he is! What if there is a future
life, and we enter into it with no other possession than our
character? and that which is called soul or spirit is driven
forth from earth and the body as we have just been from
our wealth and homes? I can no longer coolly and contemptuously
ignore what he believes as superstition. He
is not superstitious, but calm, fearless, and seemingly assured
of something that as yet I cannot understand. One
would think that there must be reality in his belief, for it
sustains him and others in the greatest of trials. The
hymn he sang was like a magnet introduced among steel
filings mingled with this sand. The mere earth cannot move,
but the steel is instinct with life. So, while many of us
could not respond, others seemed inspired at the name of
Jesus with new hope and courage, and cried to the Nazarene
as if He could hear them. Why don't people cry for
help to other good men who lived in the dim past, and
whose lives and deeds are half myth and half truth? why
to this one man only? for educated Catholics no longer
pray to the saints.”
Then her thoughts reverted to Mr. Ludolph.
“Poor father,” said she, “how will he endure these
changes? We have not felt and acted toward each other
as we ought. He is now probably anxious beyond measure,
fearing that I perished in my sleep, and so I would, had it
not been for this more than friend that I have so wronged.
Oh, that I could make amends! I wonder—oh, I wonder
if he has any spark of love left for me? He seems kind,
Brown—”
But here a most violent interruption took place. Christine,
in the complete absorption of her thoughts, had not
noticed that a group of rough men and women near by, who
had been drinking all day, had now become intoxicated
and violent. They were pushing and staggering, howling
and fighting in reckless disregard of the comfort of others,
and before she knew it she was in the midst of a drunken
brawl. One rough fellow struck against her, and another
trod on Dennis, who started up with a cry of pain. In a
moment he comprehended the situation, and snatching up
Christine and the shawl, he pushed his way out of the
melée with his right arm, the wretches striking at him and
each other aimlessly in their fury; while both men and
women used language that was worse than their blows.
After a brief struggle they extricated themselves, and made
their way northward up the beach till they found a place
where the people seemed quiet.
Dennis' sudden awakening had revealed to him that his
head had been pillowed, and it seemed such a kind and
thoughtful act on Christine's part that he could scarcely
believe it; at the same time he was full of shame and self-reproach
that by his sleep he had left her unguarded, and
he said:
“Miss Ludolph, I hope you will pardon your recreant
knight, who slept while you were in danger. But really I
could not help it. The spirit indeed is willing, but the
flesh is weak.”
“It is I who must ask pardon,” replied Christine
warmly. “After your superhuman exertions, your very life
depended on rest. But I made a wretched watcher—indeed
I have lost confidence in myself every way. To tell
the truth, Mr. Fleet, I was lost in thought, and with your
you said this morning. You asserted that you knew God
loved you, and that Christianity was sustained by arguments
that no candid mind could resist. What are those
arguments, and how can you know such a comforting
thing as the love of God?”
His eyes lighted up in his intense delight that she
should voluntarily recur to this subject, and he hoped that
God was leading her by His solemn providence to a knowledge
of Him, and that he, in answer to his own and his
mother's prayers, might be partly instrumental in bringing
the light. Therefore he said, earnestly:
“Miss Ludolph, this is scarcely the time and place to
go over the evidences of Christianity. When in happy
security I hope you may do this at your leisure, and am
sure you will be convinced, for I believe that you honestly
wish the truth. But there is no need that you should wait
and look forward into the uncertain future for this priceless
knowledge. The father will not keep his child waiting
who tries to find him. God is not far from any one of us.
When our Lord was on earth, He never repulsed those who
sought Him in sincerity, and He is the true manifestation
of God.
“Moreover,” he continued reverently, “God is now
on earth as truly as when Christ walked the waves of
Galilee, or stood with the life-giving word upon His lips at
the grave of His friend Lazarus. The mighty spirit of God
now dwells among men to persuade, help, and lead them
into all truth, and I believe He is guiding you. This Divine
spirit can act as directly on your mind as did Christ's
healing hand when He touched blind eyes, and they saw,
and palsied bodies and they sprang into joyous activity.”
Under his eager, earnest words, Christine's eyes also
lighted up with hope, but after a moment her face became
very sad, and she said wearily:
“Mystery! mystery! you are speaking a language that
I do not understand.”
“Can you not understand this: `For God so loved the
world, that he gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever
believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting
life?' and that the Bible tells us that His Son did, in very
truth, die that we might live?”
“Yes, yes, I know that the Bible seems to state all that,
but there must be some mistake about it. Why should an
all-powerful God take such a costly indirect way of accomplishing
His purpose when a word would suffice?”
“We will not discuss God's reasons; I think they are
beyond us. But imagining the Bible story to be true, even
though you do not believe it, is not the love of God revealed
to us through His Son, Jesus Christ?”
“Yes, it is the very extravagance of disinterested love.
So much so that my reason revolts at it. It is contrary to
all my ideas of Deity and power.”
“Pardon me, Miss Ludolph, for saying it, but I think
your ideas of Deity are borrowed more from mythology and
human greatness than from the Bible. Let your reason
stand aside a moment; this is not contrary to it, but beyond
it. Imagining the Bible story true, can you not wish it
true? If the man who died on Calvary out of love for you
and us all is also God, would you fear to trust yourself to
Him? Could you distrust One who loved you well enough
to die for you?”
“No! no! if I could only believe it, no! But how
can I ever be sure it is true? I am sure of nothing. I
am not sure there is a God. I am not sure the Bible is
more than human in its character. I feel as if my feet
stood out upon those shifting waves, and that there was
nothing certain or stable.'
“But in part you know the truth, Miss Ludolph, though
we have spoken can directly reveal himself to you and make
His truth as real as it is to me.”
“Mr. Fleet,” cried Christine, “if I could believe as you
do, I should be the happiest of the happy, for I should feel
that, however much I suffered in this brief life, in the
the existence beyond I should be more than compensated,”
and covering her tearful face with her hands she moaned,
as if it were wrung from her, “I have suffered so much and
there seemed no remedy!”
Dennis' feelings were also deeply touched, and the dew
of sympathy gathered in his own eyes. In the gentlest
accent he said:
“Oh, that you could trust that merciful mighty One
who invites all the heavy laden to come to Him for rest.”
She looked up and saw his sympathy, and was greatly
moved. In faltering tones she said:
“You feel for me, Mr. Fleet. You do not condemn
me in my blindness and unbelief. I cannot trust Him
because I am not sure He exists. If there was such a God
I would gladly devote my whole being to Him; but I trust
you, and will do anything you say.”
“Will you kneel on these sands with me in prayer to
Him?” he asked, earnestly.
She hesitated, trembled, but at last said, “Yes.”
He took her hand as a brother might, and they knelt
together on the desolate beach. The glow of sunset was
lost in the redder glow of the fire that smouldered all over
the ruins, and still raged in the northwest, and the smoke
and gathering gloom involved them in obscurity.
Though the weary, apathetic fugitives regarded them
not, we believe angelic forms gathered round, and that the
heart of the Divine Father yearned toward His children.
When they rose, after a simple prayer from Dennis, in
father, Christine trembled like a leaf, and was very pale,
but her face grew tearless, quiet, and very sad. Dennis
still held her hand in the warm, strong grasp of sympathy.
Gently she withdrew it, and said, in a low, despairing tone:
“It is all in vain. There is no answer. Your voice
has been lost in the winds and waves.”
“Wait the King's time,” said he, reverently.
“You addressed him as Father. Would a good father
keep his child waiting?”
“Yes, sometimes he does; he is also king.”
After a moment she turned to him the saddest face he
ever looked upon, and said gently, again giving him her
hand:
“Mr. Fleet, you have done your best for me, and I
thank you all the same.”
He was obliged to turn away to hide his feelings.
Silently they again sat down on the beach together. Weariness
and something like despair began to tell on Christine,
and Dennis trembled when he thonght of the long
night of exposure before her. He bent his face into his
hands and prayed as he never prayed before. She looked
at him wistfully, and knew he was pleading for her; but
she now believed it was all in vain. The feeling grew upon
her that belief or unbelief was a matter of education and
temperament, and that the feelings of which Dennis spoke
were but the deceptive emotions of our agitated hearts.
To that degree that the Divine love seemed visionary and
hopeless, she longed for him to speak of his own, if in
truth it still existed, that she could understand and
believe in. If during what remained of life she could only
drink the sweetness of that, she felt it was the best she
could hope for—and then the blank of nothingness.
But he prayed on, and with something of his mother's
of Christ. With an importunity that would not be denied,
he entreated for her who despaired at his side.
At last, putting her hand lightly on his arm, she said:
“Mr. Fleet, waste no more time on me. From the
groans I hear, some poor woman is sick or hurt. Perhaps
you can do some real good by seeing to her needs.”
He rose quietly, feeling that in some way God would
answer, and that he must patiently wait.
Going up the beach a short distance he found a German
woman lying just on the edge of the water. In answer
to his questions, he learned from her broken English that
she was sick and in pain. A sudden thought struck him.
In seeking to help another, might not Christine find help
herself, and in the performance of a good deed, might not
the author of all good reveal himself? Returning to her,
he said:
“Miss Ludolph, the poor woman you have heard is sick
and alone. She is German, and you can speak to her and
comfort her as only a woman can.”
Christine went at once, though with little confidence
in her powers. Indeed, it was, perhaps, the first visit of
charity and mercy she had ever made. But she would
have done anything he asked, and determined to do her
best. She helped the poor creature farther up from the
water, and then taking her hands, spoke to her soothingly
and gently in her native tongue.
“Heaven and all the angels bless your sweet face, for
taking pity on a poor lone body, and so they will too,” is
the free rendering of her grateful German.
“Would you please say a little prayer for a lone, sick
body?” she asked after a little while.
Christine hesitated a moment, and then thought. “Why
not? if it will be of any comfort to the poor thing. It can
do neither of us harm.”
Kneeling at the woman's side, Dennis saw her lift her
white face to Heaven, and her lips move. Her attitude
was unmistakably that of prayer. He could scarcely believe
his eyes.
Her petition was brief and characteristic: “O God—
if there is a God,—help this poor creature!”
Then Dennis saw her start up and glance around in a
strange bewildered manner. Suddenly she clasped her
hands and looked up with an ecstatic thrilling cry:
“There is! there is! God lives and loves me, I feel,
I know, and therefore I may hope and live.” Turning to
the still raging flames, she exclaimed: “Burn on with your
fiery billows, I do not fear you now! I am safe, safe forever!
Oh, how can I ever love and praise Thee enough!”
Then springing to Dennis' side, she took both his
hands in hers, and said: “Mr. Fleet, you have saved my
life again and again, and I am, oh, how grateful; but in
leading me to this knowledge you have made me your
debtor for evermore. God does live, and I believe now
He loves even me.”
As the glare of the fire fell on her face, he was awed
and speechless at its expression. From its ecstatic joy
and purity it seemed that the light of heaven, instead of
her burning home, was illumining it.
At last he said brokenly: “Thank God! thank God!
my many, many prayers are answered.”
The look of love and gratitude she gave him will only
find its counterpart in heaven, when the saved beam upon
those who led them to the Saviour. The whole of her
strong womanly soul, thoroughly aroused, was in her face,
and it shone like that of an angel.
To Dennis, with the force of fulfilled prophecy, recurred
his mother's words, and unconsciously he spoke them
aloud: “Prayer is mighty.”
| CHAPTER XLVII.
“PRAYER IS MIGHTY.”
CHRISTINE A CHRISTIAN. Barriers burned away | |