Rollin suddenly stopped. He took his arm from Virginia's and walked down to the end of the hall. Then he returned, with his arms behind him, and stopping near his sister he said, "Virginia, have you not learned my secret?"
Virginia looked bewildered, then over her face the unusual color crept, showing that she understood.
"I have never loved anyone but Rachel Winslow." Rollin spoke calmly enough now. "That day she was here, when you talked about her refusal to join the concert company, I asked her to be my wife -- out there on the avenue. She refused me, as I knew she would. And she gave as her reason the fact that I had no purpose in life, which was true enough. Now that I have a purpose, now that I am a new man, don't you see, Virginia, how impossible it is for me to say anything?
"I owe my very conversion to Rachel's singing. And yet that night while she sang I can honestly say that for the time being I never thought of her voice except as God's message. I believe all my personal love for her was for the time merged into a personal love to God and my Savior." Rollin was silent; then he went on, with more emotion, "I am still in love with her, Virginia, but I do not think she could ever love me." He stopped and looked his sister in the face with a sad smile.
"I don't know about that," said Virginia to herself. She was noting Rollin's face, the clear eyes looking into hers frankly. Rollin was a new man now. Why should not Rachel come to love him in time? Surely the two were well fitted for each other, especially now that their purpose in life was moved by the same Christian source.
She said something of all this to Rollin, but he did not find much comfort. Virginia carried away the impression that Rollin meant to go his way with his chosen work, trying to reach the fashionable men at the clubs, and while not avoiding Rachel, seeking no occasion for meeting her. He was distrustful of his power to control his feelings. And Virginia could see that he dreaded the thought of a second refusal.
Chapter Thirty-Six
THE NEXT DAY Virginia went down to the News office to see Edward Norman and arrange the details of her part in the establishment of the paper on its new foundation. Henry Maxwell was present at this conference, and the three agreed that, whatever Jesus would do as editor of a daily paper, He would be guided by the same general principles that directed His conduct as the Savior of the world.
Edward Norman looked up. "I am not passing judgment on other newspaper men, who may have a different conception of Jesus' probable action from mine. I am simply trying to answer honestly, 'What would Jesus do as Edward Norman?' The aim of a daily paper conducted by Jesus would be to do the will of God. That is, His main purpose in carrying on a newspaper would not be to make money or gain political influence. It would be evident to all His subscribers that He was trying to seek first the kingdom of God by means of His paper. All questionable advertisements would be impossible, and the relation of Jesus to the employees on the paper would be of the most loving character.
"If Jesus had the amount of money to use on a paper which we have, He would probably secure the best and strongest Christian men and women to cooperate with Him in the matter of contributors. That will be my purpose. I have a hundred ideas for making the paper powerful that I have not yet thought out fully. The paper will not necessarily be weak because it is good. Good things are more powerful than bad.
"The question with me is largely one of support from the Christian people of Raymond. There are over twenty thousand church members here in the city. If half of them will stand by the News, its life is assured. What do you think, Maxwell, is the probability of such support?"
Maxwell frowned. "I don't know enough about it to give an intelligent answer. I believe in the paper with all my heart. If it lives a year, as Miss Virginia said, there is no telling what it can do. The great thing will be for you to issue such a paper as near as we can judge as Jesus would. Such a paper will call for the best that human thought and action are capable of giving. The greatest minds in the world would have their powers taxed to the utmost to issue a Christian daily."
"Yes," Edward Norman said humbly, "I shall make great mistakes, no doubt. I need a great deal of wisdom. But I want to do as Jesus would. 'What would He do?' I have asked it daily, and shall continue to do so, and abide by results."
"I think we are beginning to understand," said Virginia, "the meaning of that command, 'Grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.' I am sure I do not know all that He would do in detail until I know Him better."
"That is very true," said Henry Maxwell. "I am beginning to understand that I cannot interpret the probable action of Jesus until I know better what His Spirit is. When we ask, 'What would Jesus do?' we must know Jesus before we can imitate Him."
When the arrangements had been made between Virginia and Edward Norman, he found himself in possession of the sum of five hundred thousand dollars, exclusively his to use for the establishment of a Christian daily paper.
When Virginia and Henry Maxwell had gone, Edward Norman closed his door, and asked like a child for help from his All-powerful Father. All through his prayer, as he kneeled before his desk, ran the promise, "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
TWO MONTHS went by. They were full of action and results in the city of Raymond, especially in the First Church. In spite of the approaching heat of the summer season, the after-meeting of the disciples who had made the pledge to do as Jesus would do, continued with enthusiasm and power.
John Gray had finished his work at the Rectangle, and an outward observer going through the place could not have seen any difference in the old conditions, although there was an actual change in hundreds of lives. But the saloons, dens, hovels, gambling-houses still ran, overflowing their vileness into the lives of fresh victims to take the place of those rescued by the evangelist. And the devil recruited his ranks very fast.
Henry Maxwell did not go abroad. Instead, he took the money he had been saving for the trip and quietly arranged a summer vacation for a family living in the Rectangle, who had never gone outside of the foul district of the tenement.
The pastor of the First Church would never forget the week he spent with this family, making the arrangements. He went down into the Rectangle one hot day, when something of the terrible heat of the tenements was beginning to be felt, and helped the family to the station. He went with them to a beautiful spot on the coast where, in the home of a Christian woman, these bewildered city tenants breathed for the first time the cool salt air, and felt blow about them the pine-scented fragrance of a new lease of life.
There was a sickly baby with a mother. Three other children, one a cripple. The father, who had been out of work and had been, as he afterwards confessed to Maxwell, several times on the verge of suicide, sat with the baby in his arms during the journey.
The mother, a wearied woman who had lost three children the year before from a fever scourge in the Rectangle, sat by the window all the way and drank in the delights of sea and sky and field. It was all a miracle to her. And Henry Maxwell coming back into Raymond, feeling the scorching, sickening heat all the more because of his little taste of the ocean breezes, thanked God for the joy he had witnessed, and entered upon his discipleship with a humble heart, knowing for almost the first time in his life this special kind of sacrifice. For never before had he denied himself his regular summer trip away from the heat of Raymond, whether he felt in any great need of rest or not.
"It is a fact," he said, in reply to several inquiries on the part of his church, "I do not feel in need of a vacation this year. I am very well, and prefer to stay here."
It was with a feeling of relief that he succeeded in concealing from everyone but his wife what he had done with this other family. He felt the need of doing anything of that sort without display or approval from others.
So the summer came on. The First Church was still swayed by the power of the Holy Spirit. Maxwell
marveled at the continuance of His stay. He knew very well that from the beginning nothing but the Spirit's presence had kept the church from being torn asunder by this remarkable testing it had received of its discipleship. There were many who had not taken the pledge, who regarded the whole movement as Mrs. Winslow did, in the nature of a fanatical interpretation of Christian duty, and looked for a return of the old normal condition.
Meanwhile, the whole body of disciples was under the influence of the Holy Spirit, and Henry Maxwell went his way that summer doing his parish work in great joy, keeping up his meetings with the railroad men as he had promised Alexander Powers, and daily growing into a better knowledge of the Master.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
EARLY ONE EVENING in August, after a day of refreshing coolness following a long period of heat, Jasper Chase walked to the window of his room in the apartment house on the avenue and looked out.
Since that evening when he had spoken to Rachel Winslow he had not met her again. All through the heat of the summer he had been writing, and his book was nearly done now. He had thrown himself into its construction with a feverish strength that threatened at any moment to desert him and leave him helpless.
He had not forgotten his pledge with the other members of the First Church. It had forced itself upon his notice all through his writing, and ever since Rachel Winslow had said no to him.
He had asked a thousand times, "Would Jesus do this? Would He write this story?" It was a society novel, written in a style that had proved popular. Jasper Chase knew that such a story would sell.
"What would Jesus do?" The question obtruded on him at the most inopportune times. He became quick-tempered over it. The standard of Jesus as an author was too ideal. Of course Jesus would use His powers to produce something useful, or helpful, or with a purpose. What was he, Jasper Chase, writing this novel for? Why, what nearly every writer wrote for, namely money and fame.
There was no secret with him that he was writing this new story with that object. He was not poor, and so had no temptation to write for money. But he was urged on by his desire for fame as much as anything. He must write this kind of matter. "But what would Jesus do?" The question plagued him even more than Rachel's refusal. Was he going to break his promise?
As he stood at the window, Rollin Page came out of the clubhouse just opposite. Jasper went hack to his desk and turned over some papers there. Then he returned to the window. Rollin was walking down past the block, and Rachel Winslow was walking beside him. Rollin must have overtaken her as she was coming from Virginia's that afternoon. Jasper watched the two figures until they disappeared in the crowd on the walk. Then he turned to his desk and began to write.
When he had finished the last page of the last chapter of his book it was nearly dark. "What would Jesus do?" He had finally answered the question by denying his Lord. It grew darker in Jasper's room. He had deliberately chosen his course, urged on by his disappointment and loss.
"But Jesus said unto him, No man having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of heaven." Luke 9:62.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
WHEN ROLLIN started down the street the afternoon that Jasper stood looking out of his window, he was not thinking of Rachel Winslow, and did not expect to see her. He had come suddenly upon her as she turned into the avenue, and his heart had leaped up at the sight of her. He walked along by her now, rejoicing after all in a little moment of this earthly love he could not drive out of his life.
"I have just been over to see Virginia," said Rachel. "She tells me the arrangements are nearly completed for the transfer of the Rectangle property."
"Yes. It has been a tedious case in the courts. Did Virginia show you all the plans and specifications for buildings?"
"We looked over a good many. It is astonishing to me where Virginia has managed to get all her ideas about this work."
"Virginia knows more now about Arnold Toynbee and East End London, and institutional church work in America than a good many professional slum workers. She has been spending nearly all summer in getting information." Rollin was beginning to feel more at ease as they talked over this coming work for humanity. It was safe common ground.
(Publisher's note: Arnold Toynbee died in 1883 at the age of only 30. He was well-known for his work on improving the living conditions of the poor.)
"What have you been doing all summer? I have not seen much of you," Rachel suddenly asked, and then her face warmed with its quick flush of color, as if she might have implied too much interest in Rollin, or too much regret at not seeing him oftener.
"I have been busy," replied Rollin briefly.
"Tell me something about it," persisted Rachel. "You say so little. Have I a right to ask?" She put the question very frankly, turning towards Rollin in real interest.
"Yes, certainly," he replied, with a grateful smile. "I am not so certain that I can tell you much. I have been trying to find some way to reach the men I once knew, and win them into more useful lives. I have made the pledge to do as I believe Jesus would do, and it is in trying to answer this question that I have been doing my work."
"That is what I do not understand. It seems wonderful to think that you are trying to keep that pledge with us. But what can you do with the club-men?"
"You have asked me a direct question and I shall have to answer it now," replied Rollin, smiling again. "You see, I asked myself after that night at the tent, you remember," -- he spoke hurriedly, and his voice trembled a little, -- "what purpose I could now have in my life to redeem it, to satisfy my thought of Christian discipleship. And the more I thought of it, the more I was driven to a place where I knew I must take up this cross. Did you ever think that of all the neglected beings in our social system none are quite so completely left alone as the young men who fill the clubs and waste their time and money as I used to?
"The churches look after the poor like those in the Rectangle, they make some effort to reach the working men, they send money and missionaries to the foreign heathen. But the fashionable, dissipated young men around town, the club-men, are left out of all plans for reaching and Christianizing. And yet no class of people needs it more.
"I said to myself, 'I know these men, their good and bad qualities. I am not fitted to reach the Rectangle people, but I think I could possibly reach some of these young men and boys who have money and time to spend.' So that is what I have been trying to do. When I asked, as you did, 'What would Jesus do?' -- that was my answer."
Rollin's voice was so low on the last sentence that Rachel had difficulty in hearing him above the noise around them. But she knew what he had said. She wanted to ask him what his methods were, but she did not know just how to ask. Her interest in his plans was larger than mere curiosity. Rollin Page was so different now from the fashionable young man who had asked her to be his wife. She could not help thinking of him and talking with him as if he were a new acquaintance.
They had turned off the avenue and were going up the street to Rachel's home. It was the same street where Rollin had asked Rachel why she could not love him. They were both stricken by a sudden shyness as they went on. Rachel had not forgotten that day, and Rollin could not. She finally broke a long silence by asking him what she had not found words for before.
"In your work for the club-men, with your old acquaintances, what sort of reception do they give you? How do you approach them? What do they say?"
Rollin answered after a moment. "Oh, it depends on the man. A good many of them think I am a crank. I have kept my membership up and am in good standing in that way, and I try not to provoke any unnecessary criticism. You would be surprised to know how many of the men have responded to my appeal. I could hardly make you believe that, only a few nights ago, a dozen men became honestly and earnestly engaged in a conversation over religious questions.
"I have had the great joy of seeing some of the men give up bad habits and begin a new life. 'What would Jesus do?' I keep asking it. The an
swer comes slowly, for I am feeling my way along. One thing I have found out. The men are not fighting shy of me. I think that is a good sign. I have actually interested some of them in the Rectangle work, and when it is started up they will give something to help make it more powerful. And, in addition to all the rest, I have found a way to save some of the young fellows from going to the bad in gambling."
Rollin spoke with enthusiasm. His face was transformed by his interest in the subject which had now become a part of his life. Rachel noted the strong tone of his speech. With it all she knew was a deep, underlying seriousness which felt the burden of the cross even while carrying it with joy. The next time she spoke it was with a swift feeling of justice due to Rollin and his new life.
"Do you remember I reproached you once for not having any purpose worth living for?" she asked, while her face seemed to Rollin more beautiful than ever. "I want to say, I feel the need of saying in justice to you now, that I honor you for your courage and your obedience to your promise. The life you are living now is a very noble one."
Rollin's agitation was greater than he could control. Rachel could not help seeing it. They walked along in silence.
At last Rollin said, "I thank you. It has been more than I can tell to hear you say that." He looked into her face for one moment. She read his love for her in that look. But he did not speak.
When they separated, Rachel went into the house. Sitting down in her room she put her face in her hands and said to herself, "I am beginning to know what it means to be loved by a noble man. I shall love Rollin Page after all... What am I saying!"
She rose and walked back and forth, deeply moved. Nevertheless, it was evident to herself that her emotion was not that of regret or sorrow. Somehow a glad new joy had come to her. She had entered another circle of experience, and she rejoiced with a very strong and sincere gladness that her Christian discipleship found room for this crisis in her feeling. It was indeed a part of it, for if she was beginning to love Rollin Page, it was the Christian man who had won her heart. The other never would have moved her to this great change.
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