Chapter XX: Letters From the Pastor

"HOW true it is," said Marion, as, after she had taken Mrs. Douglass to her home, she was seated in her own parlor,—"how true that the sins of the parents are visited on the children! God's threatenings are as faithful as his promises. I cannot be thankful enough that I have had a pious ancestry, and that their prayers may be answered in blessings on their descendants. How little that father realized that, in allowing his son and daughter the indulgence of every caprice, they were sowing seed which would spring up to their own sorrow and shame! How little even Mrs. Cheriton realizes that she is pursuing the same evil course with her boy, and that from being her idol he will become her tyrant! I promised Mrs. Douglass that I would be a friend to the youthful mother; indeed she urged that Mr. Angus had advised her to confide her story to me, and had been confident that I would not forsake her. I will try to keep my promise."

Mr. Angus sailed early in June, and, except a notice in the papers of the safe arrival of the steamship in Liverpool, no news from him had been received. Mrs. Asbury wrote Marion that her long-promised visit would be paid the last week in the month, and that she expected her niece to return with her to Grantbury. At the close was the following hurried postscript:—

"I have opened my letter to add that Mr. Asbury has just received a brief communication from our dear pastor. He is well, preached on Sunday in London, both morning and afternoon, sent affectionate regards to all friends including you and Ethel, of course."

Marion read the message with a heightened color. Her heart rebelled against being remembered in this general way; then, reading again, was pleased to see that this was only her aunt's rendering of his message. She fell into a revery concerning the absent one. "He told me I was the only confidant he ever had. In aunty's last letter she narrated exactly what he told her in regard to the triumphant death of a friend. She has no idea that I knew his sister, nor of the painful events of his early life. I will not betray his confidence; and yet it will be a trial to me to keep anything of interest to myself from my dear, kind aunty. I wonder whether he will write me, and when."

She was interrupted by James, who brought the morning paper.

"Nothing else?" she asked, in a tone of disappointment.

"Nothing at all."

Looking at her watch, she saw there would not be time to read the news before the carriage was due. She folded it in an abstract manner, walked to the rack to put it in, when she saw the end of a letter protruding from a newspaper inside. As this was not the place for letters, she took it out, and found to her surprise it was unsealed, and—"Yes, it is," she said aloud, "it is postmarked London."

Mr. Angus began by asking,—

Am I intruding too much on your kindness by sending you a few lines at so early a date? If so, forgive me, and remember that though I am in my native land, standing on the spot where my fathers stood, yet I am a stranger. I feel lonely to-night, and would gladly transport myself back to my adopted country. We had a prosperous voyage,— prosperous so far as it could be to one who was being removed farther and farther from home and home friends. How much would I give to have my little Ethel in my arms, and hear her sweet voice whispering in my ear, "I love you!"

You will turn from my page, I fear, disgusted with my home-sickness, and I will tell you of other things.

I have been occupied with business in London, but start to-morrow for Doncaster, and from that place shall proceed to Leyden. There is a post-office in Leyden. If I should find there a letter directed to me, it would make me very happy.

I write Mr. Asbury by this same steamer, and shall send my messages direct to them.

May God bless you, my dear Miss Howard, and reward you for all your kindness to me and mine, is the sincere prayer of your friend,

HAROLD ANGUS.

There was one person only to whom Marion spoke of the relief which had come to the Grantbury pastor, and this was to Mary Falkner. This young girl, in the midst of her own suffering, never forgot to pray that God would lead him into the light. It was Marion's precious privilege to change these prayers to praise for mercies already bestowed.

It was during a visit made to the Home, and when the conversation had reverted to friends in Grantbury, that Mary inquired who was preaching there. "Mother goes every Sunday to church," she went on, "and says she enjoys it. She told me word had come across the water from the pastor, that he was safe on land the other side."

Marion laughed at the curious phraseology of the widow, and then said, "Your prayers for him have been answered, Mary. He is no longer weighed down by sad memories. I will report to you what he told Aunt Asbury."

The cripple clasped her hands, while a fervent expression of joy stole over her face.

"God be praised!" she ejaculated. "He will be far more useful in his work now. He can 'rejoice with those who do rejoice, as well as weep with those who weep.'"