Chapter XIV: Reconciled

A YEAR after this, Mrs. Malden and Marian sat one morning in the middle of the winter busily doing accounts. It was Saturday, and on this morning Mrs. Malden instructed her in the mysteries of housekeeping, linen sorting, and accounts, arguing that it was never too soon to begin, and that everything learned was a store put by for future use.

They had not more than opened their books when the maid announced Mr. Fortescue.

"I am an early visitor," he said, as both looked up somewhat surprisedly, "but the greatness of my happiness must be my excuse."

He paused as if unable to go on, and Mrs. Maiden rose and begged him to be seated, and to tell her what had happened.

"I wanted so much to speak to you." Then turning to Marian, who had made a movement to leave the room, "Pray don't go, Miss Marian. I should so like you to stay, if you don't mind."

Marian looked very astonished, but sat still, toying with her pen nervously.

"I want to tell you a little about myself, dear Mrs. Malden. I cannot explain why to-day, but I have reasons which make me wish that you should understand my position. You knew, I believe, when I came here first, that my history had been a sad one, but at that time, I had not the heart to explain further. Now happiness has opened my lips, may I tell you? Do you and Miss Marian feel enough interest in me to listen to a long story?"

"Indeed we do," answered Mrs. Malden kindly, wondering what could have turned the sober tutor into the bright young man before her.

"Mrs. Malden, I have had a letter to-day which—which—makes all my life different to me. This morning I was poor in every sense; since the post came in, I am richer than I dreamed it possible I could ever be. May I tell you about it?"

"I shall be so pleased to hear; so glad that you have such glad news to communicate," said Mrs. Malden.

Mr. Fortescue had stationed himself at the back of Marian's chair; he seemed as if he could not be satisfied to sit down, as though his excitement were too great.

"I must explain that some years ago my father and I had a very serious disagreement. He had set his heart on my marrying a young lady—an heiress—who lived near us in Scotland. And, like many young men, out of sheer obstinacy I thought I would prefer to choose for myself. My father persisted in his wish, and I persisted in my refusal. He added threats which only angered me more deeply, and at last, he turned me out of doors. I know I was extremely undutiful to him in language, and we parted in hot anger on both sides. He told me that henceforth I was no son of his, and I left home with but fifty pounds in my pocket—which had been given me by my sister—and with no means of earning my bread.

"I had been brought up in expectation of receiving from my father enough to live on, and had studied from the love of it rather than with any idea of making my living, so when I found that I was homeless and penniless, I was very nearly in despair.

"It was during those terrible months in which I wandered about in search of employment, that I received the gracious call from my heavenly Master, and this was how it happened:

"One evening, tired out by my long round in the city, having had nothing but rebuffs from early morning, I came upon a crowd pressing into a large building. Somebody thrust a ticket into my hand, and hardly thinking what I did, or where I was going, I let the crowd push me with it right on till at last I found myself in a large hall, where some lovely singing was going on.

"'A concert,' I said to myself in an unconcerned sort of a way; for I was weary and hungry, and hardly cared whether it was that or anything else. My money was almost gone, my clothes were getting threadbare, my courage, which had been so great, was ebbing away under the difficulties in my path. And I sank down on a chair, caring little indeed what was going on around me so that they would let me sit for half an hour, and pull myself together once more.

"I had told my father that I would work or starve, and he had bidden me in fierce anger do which I liked. The work would not come; the starvation was coming fast enough.

"Mrs. Malden, you look as if you were asking, Had I no friends? The few I had—for I had always been somewhat shy and shut up in myself—were also friends of my father's, and I had declared to him that I would never receive a halfpenny from them, if he kept his threat of disinheriting me.

"So I sat on, and the concert went on, and I took no heed of what they sang, or how they sang it. I think in my weariness, I must have fallen asleep; for presently, on opening my eyes, I found the singing had stopped, and a man was addressing what I now found to be a vast assembly.

"'Don't you "want" to see God?' asked the man solemnly. 'For if you do, I can tell you, you must get a pure heart. Did not you hear the words that I read out to you just now, "Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God"? Yes; if you haven't got a pure heart, you must "get" one, or you'll never see Him!'

"And then, in tones whose tenderness rings in my ears to this day, he added:

"'And you want to see God? You do not want to go away into punishment for ever? You want to have a pure heart, only you don't know how to get it, nor how to keep it? But I'll tell you the way. Such a sweet way, such a blessed way. Hear Him say it to "you," and to "you," and to you (pointing down far back to where I sat). Hear Him say it now so tenderly, "Come unto 'Me,'" all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

"'Oh, that's the way to get the pure heart! Oh, that's the way to get blessed! Come to Him just as you are. Do not try to get ready first; for you will never do it. Just as you are, come to Him. He will make you ready; He will give you the pure heart; for He will wash you clean in His own blood, and give you a new heart altogether.

"'You've got nothing, I daresay you feel; and you are in want of everything. Then you will find everything in Jesus! And He only wants you, the sinner, to come. What an exchange! The King of glory and "you!" You, who are wretched and forlorn and sinful—"you!"'

"Oh, Mrs. Malden, I cannot do justice to that man's persuasions, though I remember it all as if it were yesterday. But if you are not tired, I must tell you the end of it. Proud as I was, I took his advice. His words had touched home to my miserable heart. Surely I wanted something that I had not got. This man said it was a Saviour. Yes, I came to the conclusion that I wanted a Saviour from sin, more than I even wanted bread and clothes and happiness. These could only be for this little life; but this Saviour, was not He for the life beyond, where I should have to see God? There was no doubt I needed a Saviour; for how dare I think of seeing God without that pure heart which He would give me? And this man kept on all the time reiterating as if he would fain see me blessed,—

"'Jesus wants you! Jesus died for you! Will you not come to Him
to-day?'

"He wants 'me,' I thought, and I want Him. Can there be anything to wait for?

"It was done by one look at Him; one moment's belief that He suffered instead of me.

"Mrs. Malden, I turned from that place and went out with the throng, a new man. My coat was as shabby, my purse was as empty, but I was rich. I had received Christ as my Saviour. I should be able to see God without fear.

"Just as I left the building, a gentleman touched me on the shoulder.

"'Can I help you in any way?' he asked.

"I was inclined for one moment to resent his interference in my affairs. But a look in his eyes, and a new feeling in my heart, stopped me, and he went on:

"'These are times when the thought of the overwhelming love of God, breaks down the wall of conventionality by which we are too often surrounded. I sat by you in that meeting, and should hardly like to part company without knowing if you are in any trouble.'

"The delicate sympathy with which he spoke opened my heart, and I said briefly that I was only in search of employment.

"He drew me into a side street and questioned me a little as to what I could do, listening to my short story with bent head.

"'I see,' he said. 'Will you do me the kindness to come home with me, and I will think over what can be done?'

"And that was how I came to be a tutor.

"He troubled himself to make enquiries as to the truth of my story, though he smilingly told me it was for other people's satisfaction and not for his own, and it ended in his obtaining a situation for me in the school from which, after three years' stay, I came here.

"His kindness and generosity I shall never forget; and it has been at his house for all these years that I have spent my holidays. Mr. Hallett has been the truest friend.

"I should, however, have said that, immediately upon my new-found happiness and peace, I wrote to my father, explaining it to him as I have to you, and begging his forgiveness for the hot words I had spoken when we parted.

"I had but little hope that he would receive me into favour, but I could not bear to be unforgiven.

"All the answer I received, however, was one line in his clear decided handwriting,—

"'I consider you as no longer entitled to write to me. The letter can
go back to the place from whence it came.'

"That was six years ago. Each Christmas I have written to my father, but each letter has been opened and returned. The only satisfaction I had was that they were opened.

"And so the years went on. I knew from our family lawyer that my father had altered his will, but to what extent he would not say. It was not till this morning that I had the slightest hope that my circumstances would ever be different. The postman put in my hand this letter, and I have brought it to you, Mrs. Malden, because—because you are all my dearest friends in the world."

His hand trembled as he held out the letter, and Mrs. Malden took it and read:

"MY SON,—I have seen things in a different light lately—a light from above. I am not a man of many words, but I understand now what you meant six years ago, when you said those canting words, as I thought then, 'I'm saved.' Yes, I understand. Can you forgive your old father his hastiness and come back? But I am sure you can, if you know what it is to be forgiven yourself?

"Though I am in a desperate hurry to see you, yet I do not want you to
come till Monday."

Mrs. Malden's tears were in her eyes.

"Will you read it too, Miss Marian?" he asked, bending and placing the note in her hand. "I want you to understand it too, because you have been so kind, and I have to go away."

Marian looked up wistfully.

"For always?" she asked.

"I trust not, I believe not. Mrs. Malden, will you spare me for a week to see my father? I will come back to fulfil my engagement with you; I shall have much to tell you then, I hope. To think that we are reconciled, and that he too has learned what I value above all else! I feel to-day as if I were walking on air."

"I am sure you must. I may tell Mr. Malden all you have told me?"

"Oh, yes! Oh, certainly! I intended to include him in my confidence. Shall I go in and speak to him myself?"

Mrs. Malden peeped into her husband's library. "He is quite alone," she said, opening the door, herself returning to the dining-room.

Marian was sitting with her head resting on her hand in deep thought. She looked up when her mother entered.

"Mother, I wish we had known all this before, don't you?"

"I think I do, Marian. Poor man, he must have gone through a great deal."

"Yes; and it seems so sad that we never knew. Perhaps we were thoughtless. I am afraid with our light spirits we often forget others."

"I do not think you need regret, my dear. 'You' are not often thoughtless at any rate."

"Oh, I am, mother! But do you think he will tell Lionel and Alick? How strange of him to want me to hear. Why do you think it was, mother?"

"I do not know, my dear. Marian, clear up these papers. I shall not do the accounts just now. I am afraid this will make a difference in our plans. It is not likely he will want to be a tutor any longer."

"Will he not? What will Alick and Lionel do? Of course for me it does not matter so much, as I only take German with him, and I really am old enough to leave off learning now."

Mrs. Malden looked at her archly, and Marian laughed and blushed.

"You know what I mean, mother, though you pretend not to. Of course I shall learn as long I live, but I shall not go into lessons as long as I live, I hope."

Mrs. Malden kissed her. "Run along and take these bits of silk across to Salome for her patchwork. Tell her I shall be able to find some more in a few days, I think."

"These will last a long time," said Marian, gathering them together.

"Yes."

Marian put on her hat and jacket, and sped across the frosty garden to Salome's nursery. If any one word might have been written up over that door, it would have been "Peace." But all who entered there felt it, though it was not written up.