PART 22 of 24 Parts
Clarence Penrose was from an aristocratic family of great wealth and social distinction. He had large property holdings in different parts of the city. For many years he had been a member of Dr. Bruce’s church.
Now both Dr. Bruce and Bishop Hampton left the table and went into the hall to greet him.
"Come in, Clarence," said Dr. Bruce, and they ushered the visitor into the reception room and closed the door.
Penrose faced the two ministers with a look of agitation on his pale face. His lip trembled as he spoke. It was an unusual occasion that would put Clarence Penrose in the position of showing any emotion or agitation.
"Did you read about the shooting? The family lived in one of my houses. It’s a terrible thing. But that is not the primary reason for my visit." He looked nervously into the faces of the two men.
"Dr. Bruce!" he exclaimed, with almost a child’s terror in his voice. "I came to say that I have had an experience so unusual that nothing but the supernatural can explain it. You remember I was one of those who took the pledge to do as Jesus would do. I thought at the time, poor fool that I was, that I had been doing the Christian thing all along. I gave liberally out of my abundance to the church and charity, I never gave myself, though.
"So I have been living in a perfect hell of contradictions ever since I took the pledge. My little girl—Diana, you remember—also took the pledge. She has been asking me a great many questions lately about the poor people and where they live. I have been obliged to answer her. Her questions last night touched me sorely: ‘Do you own any houses where those people live? Are they nice and warm like ours?’ You know how a child will ask questions like that.
"Well, I went to bed tormented with what I now know to be the divine arrows of conscience. I could not sleep. I seemed to see the Judgment Day. I was placed before the Judge. I was asked to give an account of the good deeds I had performed personally. What had I done with my stewardship? How about those tenements where people froze in winter and stifled in summer? Did I give any thought to them, except to receive the rentals from them? Would Jesus have done as I had done and was doing? How had I used the money and culture and social influence I possessed? Had I used it to bless humanity, to relieve the suffering, to bring joy to the distressed and hope to the despondent? I had received much. How much had I given?
"All this came to me in a waking vision as distinctly as I see you two men now. I was unable to see the end of the vision. I had a confused picture in my mind of the suffering Christ pointing a condemning finger at me, and the rest was shut out by mist and darkness. I have not slept for 24 hours. The first thing I saw this morning was the account of the shooting at the coal yards. I read the account with a feeling of horror I have not been able to shake off. I am a guilty creature before God."
Penrose paused suddenly. The two men looked at him solemnly. What power of the Holy Spirit had moved the soul of this hitherto self-satisfied, elegant, cultured man? The bishop laid his hand on the shoulder of the distraught Penrose and said, "My brother, God has been very near to you. Let us thank Him."
"Yes, yes," sobbed Penrose. He sat down on a chair and covered his face. The bishop prayed. Then Penrose quietly rose and asked, "Will you go with me to that house?"
In reply, the two men put on their overcoats and went out with him to the home of the dead man’s family.
This was the beginning of a new and strange life for Clarence Penrose. From the moment he stepped into that wretched hovel of a home and faced—for the first time in his life—suffering such as he had only read about, he was launched into a new life.
It began with his finding a home for the fatherless family of seven and providing for their care. Then he began a systematic personal inspection of all his properties to see that they were properly maintained, with adequate heat. That was just the beginning of a series of adventures during the following months that resulted from his questioning, "What would Jesus do?"
Before that winter reached its bitter climax, other events occurred in the city that concerned the lives of all the people who had promised to walk in His steps.
One afternoon Felicia came out of the Settlement with a basket of food samples for a baker in the Penrose district, just as Stephen Clyde emerged from the carpenter shop.
"Let me carry your basket, please," he said.
"Why do you say please?" asked Felicia, handing over the basket as they walked along.
"I would like to say something else," said Stephen, glancing at her with a boldness that frightened him. For he had been thinking of Felicia constantly, ever since he first saw her that day with the bishop. And for weeks now he had found many ways to be in her company.
"What else?" asked Felicia innocently.
"Why," said Stephen, turning full toward her and eyeing her with admiration, "I would like to say, ‘Let me carry your basked, Felicia, dear.’"
Felicia walked on a little way without even turning her face toward him. Finally she turned and said shyly, "Why don’t you say it, then?"
"May I?" cried Stephen, and the container tipped so precariously that Felicia exclaimed, "Yes, but watch the basket!"
"Why, I wouldn’t think of dropping anything so important," said Stephen, promptly swinging the basket so high that Felicia squealed in protest.
Hours later the bishop was walking along a rather secluded spot near the outlying part of the Settlement district when he heard a familiar voice: "But tell me, Felicia, when did you begin to love me?"
"I fell in love with a little pine shaving just above your ear that day when I saw you in the shop!" said the other voice with a tinkly laugh.
The next moment the bishop turned the corner and came upon them.
"Where are you going with that basket?" he asked in amusement.
"We’re taking it to—Where are we taking it to, Felicia?"
"Dear bishop, I guess now we’re taking it home to begin—"
"To begin housekeeping" finished Stephen.
"Are you, now?" said the bishop. "I hope you will invite me in to share it. I know how good Felicia’s cooking is."
"Bishop, dear Bishop," said Felicia, and she did not pretend to hide her happiness, "indeed, you shall always be the most honored guest. Are you glad?"
"I certainly am," he replied, interpreting Felicia’s words as she wished. Then he paused a moment and said gently, "God bless you both," and went his way with a tear in his eye and a prayer in his heart, leaving them to their joy.
Soon after the culmination of Felicia’s and Stephen’s love story, a plan was worked out to bring to a climax the work that had been started in both Raymond and Chicago. Henry Maxwell came to Chicago with Rachel Winslow, Virginia Page, Rollin Page, Alexander Powers and President Marsh. The occasion was a remarkable gathering in the hall of the Settlement arranged by the bishop and Dr. Bruce.
There was invited into the Settlement Hall meeting that night men out of work, wretched creatures who had lost faith in God and man, anarchists and infidels, freethinkers and no thinkers. The representatives of the city’s worst, most hopeless, dangerous, depraved elements faced Henry Maxwell and the other disciples when the meeting began.
And still the Holy Spirit moved through this selfish, pleasure-loving, sin-stained city. Every man and woman at the meeting that night had seen the Settlement motto over the door, blazing through the transparency set up by the divinity student: What would Jesus do?
When he first stepped through the doorway, Henry Maxwell was touched with deep emotion as he thought of the first time that question had come to him in the piteous appeal of the shabby young man who had appeared at the morning service in First Church.
Would the movement begun in Raymond actually spread over the country? He had come to Chicago with his friends, partly to see if the answer to that question would be found in the heart of a great city. In a few minutes he would face these people. He had grown strong and calm since he first spoke with trembling to that company of working men in the railroad shops; but now, as then, he breathed a deep prayer for help. Somehow he felt as if this meeting would expand the answer to his constant query, "What would Jesus do?"
