PART 18 of 24 parts
Sunday morning at the Sterling mansion was generally very quiet. The girls usually went to church at the eleven o’clock service. Mr. Sterling was not a member but a heavy contributor, and he generally attended with his daughters. This time he did not come down to breakfast, and finally sent word by a servant that he did not feel well enough to go out. So Rose and Felicia drove up to the door of the Nazareth Avenue Church and entered the family pew alone.
When Dr. Bruce walked to the pulpit to open the Bible, as his custom was, those who knew him best did not detect anything unusual in his manner or expression. He proceeded with the service as usual. He was calm and his voice steady and firm. His prayer was the first intimation anyone had of anything new or strange in the service. It is safe to say that the Nazareth Avenue Church had never before heard Dr. Bruce offer such a prayer during the twelve years he had been pastor there.
How would a minister be likely to pray when he had just come out of a revolution in Christian feeling that had completely changed his definition of what was meant by following Jesus? No one in Nazareth Avenue Church had any idea that the Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D., the dignified, cultured, refined doctor of divinity, had within a few days been crying on his knees like a little child, asking for strength and courage and Christlikeness to speak his Sunday message. And yet the prayer was an unconscious involuntary disclosure of the soul’s experience such as the Nazareth Avenue people had seldom heard and never before from that pulpit.
In the hush that succeeded the prayer, a distinct wave of spiritual power moved over the congregation. The most careless persons in the church felt it. Felicia, whose sensitive religious nature responded swiftly to every touch of emotion, quivered under the passing of that supernatural Presence; and when she lifted her head and looked up at the minister there was in her eyes a look of intense, eager anticipation.
And she was not alone in her attitude. There was something in the prayer that stirred many a disciple in that church. All over the house, men and women leaned forward; and when Dr. Bruce began to speak of his visit to Raymond, there was a responsiveness from the congregation that he had never before experienced. In his heart he felt a new love for them and at the same time a deep uncertainty in his heart. How many of his fashionable, refined, luxury-loving members would understand the nature of the appeal he was soon to make to them? He was altogether in the dark as to that. Nevertheless, he had been through his desert and had come out of it ready to be tested.
"This morning I would like to tell you about a most exciting work that has been going on in Raymond for the past year," he began. "For the past two weeks I have been somewhat involved in it myself."
Then Dr. Bruce told his people simply but with controlled emotion what had happened at First Church. Felicia listened to every word with strained attention. She sat there by the side of Rose like fire beside snow, although even Rose was as alert as was possible for her to be.
"My friends," he said, "I am going to ask that Nazareth Avenue Church take the same pledge that the Raymond Church has taken. I know what this will mean to you and to me. It will mean the complete change of very many habits. It will mean, possibly, social loss. It will mean, in some cases, loss of money. It will mean sacrifice. It will probably mean what following Jesus meant in the first century, and then it meant suffering, hardship, separation from everything non-Christian. What does following Jesus mean today? The test of discipleship is the same now as then."
Again he paused, and now the result of his announcement was plainly visible in the stir that went over the congregation. He added in a quiet voice that all who volunteered to make the pledge to do as Jesus would do were asked to remain after the morning service.
Immediately he proceeded with his sermon. His text was "Master, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest."
It was a sermon that touched the deep springs of conduct. It was a revelation to the people of the definition their pastor had been learning. It took them back to the first century of Christianity. Above all, it stirred them below the conventional thought of years as to the meaning and purpose of church membership. It was such a sermon as a man may only be able to preach once in a lifetime, and with enough in it for people to live on all through the rest of their lifetime.
The service closed in a hush that was broken only slowly. People rose here and there, a few at a time. There was a reluctance in the movements of some that was very striking.
Rose, however, walked straight out of the pew, and as she reached the aisle turned her head and beckoned to Felicia. By that time the congregation was rising all over the church.
"I’m going to stay," Felicia said.
Rose had heard her speak in the same manner on other occasions and knew that her resolve could not be changed. Nevertheless, she went back into the pew two or three steps and faced her.
"Felicia," she whispered, a flush of anger on her cheeks, "this is folly. What can you do? What will Father say? Come."
Felicia looked at her but did not answer at once. Her lips were moving with a petition that came from a depth of feeling that measured a new life for her. She shook her head.
"No, I am going to stay. I shall take the pledge. I am ready to obey it. You do not understand why I am doing this, do you?"
Rose gave her one look, then turned and went out of the pew and down the aisle. She did not even stop to talk with her acquaintances. Mrs. Delano was going out of the church just as Rose stepped into the vestibule.
"So you are not going to join Dr. Bruce’s volunteer company?" Mrs. Delano asked.
"No, I am not. It is simply absurd. I have always regarded the Raymond movement as fanatical."
"Yes, I understand it is resulting in a great deal of hardship in many cases. For my part, I believe Dr. Bruce has simply provoked disturbance here. It will result in splitting our church. You see if that isn’t so. There are scores of people in the church who are so situated that they can’t take such a pledge and keep it. I am one of them," she added as she went out with Rose.
When Rose reached home her father was standing in his usual attitude before the open fireplace, smoking a cigar.
"Where is Felicia?" he asked as Rose came in alone.
"She stayed for an aftermeeting," replied Rose shortly.
She threw off her wraps and was going upstairs when Mr. Sterling called after her, "An aftermeeting? What do you mean?"
"Dr. Bruce asked the church to take the Raymond pledge."
Mr. Sterling took his cigar out of his mouth and twirled it nervously between his fingers.
"I didn’t expect that of Dr. Bruce. Did many of the members stay?"
"I don’t know," replied Rose. "I didn’t." And she went upstairs, leaving her father standing in the drawing room.
After a few minutes he went to the window and stood there looking out at the people driving on the boulevard. His cigar had gone out, but he still fingered it nervously. Then he turned from the window and walked up and down the room. When a servant stepped across the hall and announced dinner, he told her to wait for Felicia. Rose came downstairs and went into the library. And still Mr. Sterling paced the drawing room restlessly.
He had finally wearied of the walking and throwing himself into a chair, was brooding deeply over something when Felicia came in.
He rose and faced her. Felicia had obviously been moved by the meeting from which she had just come. At the same time she was reluctant to talk about it.
"How many stayed?" he asked.
"About a hundred," replied Felicia gravely. Mr. Sterling looked surprised. Felicia was going out of the room but he called to her.
"Do you really mean to keep the pledge?" he asked.
Felicia felt her cheeks grow hot as she answered. "You would not ask such a question, Father, if you had been at the meeting." She then asked to be excused from dinner for a while and went to see her mother.
Felicia tried to describe to her mother something of the spiritual power that had awed every one of the company of disciples who faced Dr. Bruce in that meeting after the morning service. Felicia had never had such an experience before and never would have thought of sharing it with her mother, had it not been for the prayer the previous evening.
When she finally joined her father and Rose at the table, however, she felt reluctant to speak of it, as one might hesitate to describe a wonderful sunset to a person who never talked about anything but bad weather.
When that Sunday in the Sterling mansion was drawing to a close, Felicia knelt by her bed; and when she raised her face and turned it toward the light, it was the face of a woman who had already defined for herself the greatest issues of earthly life.
That same evening Dr. Bruce was talking over the events of the day with his wife. They were of one heart and mind in the matter, and faced their new future with all the faith and courage of new disciples. Neither was deceived as to the probable results of the pledge to themselves or to the church.
They had been talking but a little while when the doorbell rang. Dr. Bruce exclaimed as he opened it, "It’s you, Edward! Come in!"
There entered the hall a commanding figure. Bishop Edward Hampton was of extraordinary height and breadth of shoulder, but of such good proportions that few were conscious of his unusual size. The impression the bishop made on strangers was first of good health, and then of great warmth.
He came into the parlor and greeted Mrs. Bruce, who soon departed discreetly, leaving the men alone.
The two men sat in deep easy chairs before the open fire. There was just enough dampness in the early spring of the year to make an open fire pleasant.
"Calvin, you have taken a very serious step today," the bishop said at last, turning his large dark eyes to his old college classmate’s face. "I heard of it this afternoon. I could not resist the desire to see you about it tonight."
"I’m glad you came." Dr. Bruce felt a slight tremor in his stomach. "You understand what this means, Edward?"
"I think I do. Yes, I’m sure I do." The bishop spoke slowly and thoughtfully. He sat with his hands clasped together. Over his face, marked with lines of consecration and service and love of men, a shadow crept—a shadow not caused by the firelight. Again he gazed at his old friend.
"Calvin, we have always understood each other. Ever since our paths led us in different ways in church life, we have walked together in Christian fellowship."
"It is true," replied Dr. Bruce, with an emotion he made no attempt to conceal or subdue. "Thank God for it. I prize your fellowship more than any man’s. I have always known what it meant, though it has always been more than I deserve."
The bishop looked affectionately at his friend. But the shadow still rested on his face. After a pause he spoke again.
"The new discipleship means a crisis for you in your work. If you keep this pledge to do all things as Jesus would do—as I know you will—it requires no prophet to predict some remarkable changes in your parish." The bishop looked wistfully at his friend and then continued.
"In fact, I do not see how a perfect upheaval of Christianity, as we now know it, can be prevented if the ministers and churches generally take the Raymond pledge and live it out." He paused as if he were waiting for his friend to say something, to ask some question. But Bruce did not know of the fire that was burning in the bishop’s heart over the very question that he himself and Maxwell had fought out.
"Now in my church," continued the bishop, "it would be rather a difficult matter, I fear, to find very many people who would take a pledge like that and live up to it. Martyrdom is a lost art with us. Our Christianity loves its ease and comfort too well to take up anything so rough and heavy as a cross. And yet what does Jesus mean? What is it to walk in His steps?"
The bishop was soliloquizing now, and it is doubtful if he thought for the moment of his friend’s presence. For the first time there flashed into Dr. Bruce’s mind a suspicion of the truth. What if the bishop should throw the weight of his great influence on the side of the Raymond movement? He had the following of the most aristocratic and wealthy people, not only in Chicago, but in several large cities. What if the bishop should join this new discipleship?
The thought was about to be followed by the word. Dr Bruce reached out his hand and, with the familiarity of lifelong friendship, placed it on the bishop’s shoulder ready to ask an important question, when they were both startled by the violent ringing of the bell. Mrs. Bruce went to the door and could be heard talking with someone in the hall. There was a loud exclamation and then, as the bishop rose and Dr. Bruce was stepping toward the curtain that hung before the entrance to the parlor, Mrs. Bruce pushed it aside. Her face was white and she was trembling.
"Oh, Calvin! Such terrible news! Mr. Sterling—oh, I cannot tell it! What a blow to those two girls."
"What is it?" Dr. Bruce advanced with the bishop into the hall and confronted the messenger, a servant from the Sterlings. The man was without his hat, and had evidently run over with the news as Dr. Bruce lived nearest of any intimate friends of the family.
"Mr. Sterling shot himself, sir, a few minutes ago! He killed himself in his bedroom."
"I will go right over. Edward, will you go with me? The Sterlings are old friends of yours."
The bishop was very pale, but calm as always. He looked his friend in the face and answered, "Aye, Calvin, I will go with you, not only to this house of death, but also the whole way of human sin and sorrow, please God."’ And even in that moment of horror at the unexpected news, Calvin Bruce understood what the bishop meant to do.
