"Mrs. Williams, your little girl is all right again?

"Well, Mrs. McNeil" (to a rusty, thinly clad woman who sat with her back to me), "so your husband won his case, after all? His lawyer was an old friend of mine."

I had sat far back, as the church was full when I entered, and was waiting for him to get through with his congregation before making myself known to him; so, though he was now quite close to me, he did not recognize me until I spoke to him. As I mentioned his name, he turned.

"Why, Henry Glave!" Then he took me in his arms, bodily, and lifting me from the ground hugged me there before the entire remnant of his congregation who yet remained in the church. I never had a warmer greeting. I felt as if I were the prodigal son, and, although it was embarra.s.sing, I was conscious that instant that he had lifted me out of my old life and taken me to his heart. It was as if he had set me down on a higher level in a better and purer atmosphere.

I went home with him that night to his little room in a house even smaller and poorer than that in which I had my room--where he lived, as I found, because he knew the pittance he paid was a boon to the poor family who sublet the room. But as small and inconvenient as the room was, I felt that it was a haven for a tired and storm-tossed spirit, and the few books it contained gave it an air of being a home. Before I left it I was conscious that I was in a new phase of life. Something made me feel that John Marvel's room was not only a home but a sanctuary.

We sat late that night and talked of many things, and though old John had not improved in quickness, I was surprised, when I came to think over our evening, how much he knew of people--poor people. It seemed to me that he lived nearer to them than possibly any one I had known. He had organized a sort of settlement among them, and his chief helpers were Wolffert and a Catholic priest, a dear devoted old fellow, Father Tapp, whom I afterward met, who always spoke of John Marvel as his "Heretick brother," and never without a smile in his eye. Here he helped the poor, the sick and the outcast; got places for those out of work, and encouraged those who were despairing. I discovered that he was really trying to put into practical execution the lessons he taught out of the Bible, and though I told him he would soon come to grief doing that, he said he thought the command was too plain to be disobeyed. Did I suppose that the Master would have commanded, "Love your enemies,"

and, "Turn the other cheek," if He had not meant it? "Well," I said, "the Church goes for teaching that theoretically, I admit; but it does not do it in practice--I know of no body of men more ready to a.s.sert their rights, and which strikes back with more vehemence when a.s.sailed."

"Ah! but that is the weakness of poor, fallible, weak man," he sighed.

"'We know the good, but oft the ill pursue;' if we could but live up to our ideals, then, indeed, we might have Christ's kingdom to come.

Suppose we could get all to obey the injunction, 'Sell all thou hast and give to the poor,' what a world we should have!"

"It would be filled with paupers and dead beats," I declared, scouting the idea. "Enterprise would cease, a dead stagnation would result, and the industrious and thrifty would be the prey of the worthless and the idle."

"Not if all men could attain the ideal."

"No, but there is just the rub; they cannot--you leave out human nature.

Selfishness is ingrained in man--it has been the mainspring which has driven the race to advance."

He shook his head. "The grace of G.o.d is sufficient for all," he said.

"The mother-love has some part in the advance made, and that is not selfish. Thank G.o.d! There are many rich n.o.ble men and women, who are not selfish and who do G.o.d's service on earth out of sheer loving kindness, spend their money and themselves in His work."

"No doubt, but here in this city----?"

"Yes, in this city--thousands of them. Why, where do we get the money from to run our place with?"

"From the Argand Estate?" I hazarded.

"Yes, even from the Argand Estate we get some. But men like Mr. Leigh are those who support us and women like--ah--But beyond all those who give money are those who give themselves. They bring the spiritual blessing of their presence, and teach the true lesson of divine sympathy. One such person is worth many who only give money."

"Who, for instance?"

"Why--ah--Miss Leigh--for example."

I could scarcely believe my senses. Miss Leigh! "Do you know Miss Leigh?

What Miss Leigh are you speaking of?" I hurriedly asked to cover my own confusion, for John had grown red and I knew instinctively that it was she--there could be but one.

"Miss Eleanor Leigh--yes, I know her--she--ah--teaches in my Sunday-school." John's old trick of stammering had come back.

Teaching in his Sunday-school! And I not know her! That instant John secured a new teacher. But he went on quickly, not divining the joy in my heart, or the pious resolve I was forming. "She is one of the good people who holds her wealth as a trust for the Master's poor--she comes over every Sunday afternoon all the way from her home and teaches a cla.s.s."

Next Sunday at three P. M. a hypocrite of my name sat on a bench in John's little church, pretending to teach nine little ruffians whose only concern was their shoes which they continually measured with each other, while out of the corner of my eye I watched a slender figure bending, with what I thought wonderful grace, over a pew full of little girls on the other side of the church intent on their curls or bangs.

The lesson brought in that bald-headed and somewhat unfeeling prophet, who called forth from the wood the savage and voracious she-bears to devour the crowd of children who ran after him and made rude observations on his personal appearance, and before I was through, my sympathies had largely shifted from the unfortunate youngsters to the victim of their annoyance. Still I made up my mind to stick if John would let me, and the slim and flower-like teacher of the fidgety cla.s.s across the aisle continued to attend.

I dismissed my cla.s.s rather abruptly, I fear, on observing that the little girls had suddenly risen and were following their teacher toward the door with almost as much eagerness as I felt to escort her. When I discovered that she was only going to unite them with another cla.s.s, it was too late to recall my pupils, who at the first opportunity had made for the door, almost as swiftly as though the she-bears were after them.

When the Sunday-school broke up, the young lady waited around, and I took pains to go up and speak to her, and received a very gracious smile and word of appreciation at my efforts with the "Botany Bay Cla.s.s," as my boys were termed, which quite rewarded me for my work. Her eyes, with their pleasant light, lit up the whole place for me. Just then John Marvel came out--and it was the first time I ever regretted his appearance. The smile she gave him and the cordiality of her manner filled me with sudden and unreasoning jealousy. It was evident that she had waited to see him, and old John's face bore a look of such happiness that he almost looked handsome. As for her--as I came out I felt quite dazed. On the street whom should I meet but Wolffert--"simply pa.s.sing by," but when I asked him to take a walk, he muttered something about having "to see John." He was well dressed and looked unusually handsome.

Yet when John appeared, still talking earnestly with Miss Leigh, I instantly saw by his face and the direction of his eye that the John he wanted to see wore an adorable hat and a quiet, but dainty tailor-made suit and had a face as lovely as a rose.

I was in such a humor that I flung off down the street, swearing that every man I knew was in love with her, and it was not until ten o'clock that night, when I went to John's--whither I was drawn by an irresistible desire to talk about her and find out how matters stood between them--and he told me that she had asked where I had gone, that I got over my temper.

"Why, what made you run off so?" he inquired.

"When?" I knew perfectly what he meant.

"Immediately after we let out."

"My dear fellow, I was through, and besides I thought you had pleasanter company." I said this with my eyes on his face to see him suddenly redden. But he answered with a naturalness which put me to shame.

"Yes, Miss Leigh has been trying to get a place for a poor man--your client by the way--and then she was talking to me about a little entertainment for the children and their parents, too. She is always trying to do something for them. And she was sorry not to get a chance to speak further to you. She said you had helped her about her fire and she had never thanked you."

It is surprising how quickly the sun can burst from the thickest clouds for a man in love. I suddenly wondered that Miss Leigh among her good works did not continually ask about me and send me messages. It made me so happy.

"What became of Wolffert?" I inquired.

"I think he walked home with her. He had something to talk with her about. They are great friends, you know. She helps Wolffert in his work."

"Bang!" went the clouds together again like a clap of thunder. The idea of Wolffert being in love with her! I could tolerate the thought of John Marvel being so, but Wolffert was such a handsome fellow, so clever and attractive, and so full of enthusiasm. It would never do. Why, she might easily enough imagine herself in love with him. I suddenly wondered if Wolffert was not the cause of her interest in settlement work.

"Wolffert is very fond of her--I found him hanging around the door as we came out," I hazarded.

"Oh! yes, they are great friends. He is an inspiration to her, she says--and Wolffert thinks she is an angel--as she is. Why, if you knew the things she does and makes others do!"

If John Marvel had known with what a red-hot iron he was searing my heart, he would have desisted; but good, blind soul, he was on his hobby and he went on at full speed, telling me what good deeds she had performed--how she had fetched him to the city; and how she had built up his church for him--had started and run his school for the waifs--coming over from her beautiful home in all weathers to make up the fire herself and have the place warm and comfortable for the little ones--how she looked after the sick--organized charities for them and spent her money in their behalf. "They call her the angel of the lost children," he said, "and well they may."

"Who does?" I asked suspiciously, recalling the t.i.tle. "Wolffert, I suppose?"

"Why, all my people--I think Wolffert first christened her so and they have taken it up."

"Confound Wolffert!" I thought. "Wolffert's in love with her," I said.

"Wolffert--in love with her! Why!" I saw that I had suggested the idea for the first time--but it had found a lodgment in his mind. "Oh! no, he is not," he declared, but rather arguing than a.s.serting it. "They are only great friends--they work together and have many things in common--Wolffert will never marry--he is wedded to his ideal."

"And her name is Eleanor Leigh--only he is not wedded to her yet." And I added in my heart, "He will never be if I can beat him."

"Yes--certainly, in a way--as she is mine," said John, still thinking.

"And you are too!" I said.

"I? In love with--?" He did not mention her name. It may have been that he felt it too sacred. But he gave a sort of gasp. "The glow-worm may worship the star, but it is at a long distance, and it knows that it can never reach it."

I hope it may be forgiven to lovers not to have been frank with their rivals. His humility touched me. I wanted to tell John that I thought he might stand a chance, but I was not unselfish enough, as he would have been in my place. All I was brave enough to do was to say, "John, you are far above the glow-worm; you give far more light than you know, and the star knows and appreciates it."