Part 5 of 24 parts
When Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page separated after the meeting at the First Church on Sunday, they agreed to continue their conversation the next day. Virginia asked Rachel to come and lunch with her at noon, and Rachel accordingly rang the bell at the Page mansion about half-past eleven. Virginia herself met her, and the two were soon earnestly talking.
“The fact is,” Rachel was saying, after they had been talking a few moments, “I cannot reconcile it with my judgment of what Christ would do. I cannot tell another person what to do, but I feel that I ought not to accept this offer.”
“What will you do, then?” asked
“I don’t know yet. But I have decided to refuse this offer.”
Rachel picked up a letter than had been lying in her lap and ran over its contents again. It was a letter offering her a place in a comic opera with a large company, traveling for the season. The salary was a very good figure, and the prospect held out by the manager of the company was flattering. He had heard Rachel sing that Sunday morning when the stranger had interrupted the service. He had been much impressed. There was money in that voice and it ought to be used in comic opera, so said the letter, and the manager wanted a reply as soon as possible.
“There’s no great virtue in saying no to this offer when I have the other one,” Rachel went on thoughtfully. “That’s harder to decide. But I’ve about made up my mind. To tell the truth,
“You mustn’t ask me to decide for you,” replied
“Are you?” Rachel asked. She rose and walked over to the window and looked out.
“Rachel, what does all this contrast in conditions mean to you as you ask this question of what Jesus would do? It maddens me to think that the society in which I have been brought up, the society to which we both belong, is satisfied year after year to go on dressing and eating and having a good time, giving and receiving entertainment, spending its money on houses and luxuries and to ease its own conscience, occasionally donating a little money to charity without any personal sacrifice.
“Like you, I’ve been educated in one of the most expensive schools in America, launched into society as an heiress. Supposed to be in a most enviable position. I’m perfectly well. I have had numerous offers of marriage. I can travel or stay at home. I can gratify almost any want or desire, and yet…when I honestly try to imagine Jesus living the life I have lived and am expected to live, and doing for the rest of my life what thousands of other rich people do, I am under condemnation for being one of the most selfish, useless creatures in all the world. I have not looked out of this window for weeks without a feeling of horror toward myself as I see the humanity that passes by this house.”
She was not morbid. She was in sound health, was conscious of her special gifts as a singer, and knew that if she went out into public life she could make money and achieve fame. It is doubtful if she overestimated her ability to accomplish all of that she was capable. And
Lunch was announced and they went out and were joined by Virginia’s grandmother, Madame Florence Page, a handsome, stately woman of 65, and Virginia’s brother, Rollin, a young man who spent most of his time at one of the clubs. Rollin had no ambition for anything. But he did have a growing admiration for Rachel Winslow, and whenever she dined at the Pages’, if he knew of it, he always planned to be at home.
These three made up the Page family.
Perhaps two persons could not be found anywhere less capable of understanding a girl like
“I understand that you are going on the stage, Miss Winslow. We are all delighted for you,” said Rollin during the conversation that had not been very animated.
Rachel reddened and felt annoyed.
“Who told you?” she asked, while Virginia, who had been very silent and reserved, suddenly roused herself and appeared ready to join in the talk.
Rollin quickly responded, “Oh, we hear a thing of two on the street. Besides, everyone saw that talent manager at church two weeks ago. He doesn’t go to church to hear the preaching. In fact, I know other people who don’t, either, not when there’s something better to hear.”
Rachel did not change color this time, but she answered quietly:
“You’re mistaken. I’m not going on the stage.”
“It’s a great pity. You’d make a hit. Everybody is talking about your singing.” Rollin seemed nonplused.
Before Rachel could say anything,
“Whom do you mean by ‘everybody’?”
“Whom? I mean all the people who hear Miss Winslow Sunday. What other time do they hear her? It’s a great pity, I say, that the general public outside of Raymond cannot hear her voice.”
“Please, let us talk about something else,” said Rachel a little sharply. Madame Page glanced at her and spoke with a gently courtesy.
“My dear, Rollin never could pay an indirect compliment. He is like his father in that. But we are all curious to know something of your plans. We claim the right from old acquaintance, you know. And
“I supposed, of course, that was public property,” said
“Yes, yes,” replied Rachel hastily. “I understand that, Madame Page. Well, Virginia and I have been talking about it. I have decided not to accept, and that is as far as I have gone as yet.”
Rachel was conscious of the fact that the conversation had, up to this point, been narrowing her hesitation concerning the company’s offer. She wanted a solution that would absolutely satisfy her own judgment of Jesus’ probable action. It had been the last thing in the world, however, that she had desired to have her decision made in any way so public as this. Somehow what Rollin Page had said and his manner in saying it had hastened her in the matter.
“Would you mind telling us, Rachel, your reasons for refusing the offer? It looks like a great opportunity for a young girl like you. Don’t you think the general public ought to hear you? I feel like Rollin about that. A voice like yours belongs to a larger audience than Raymond and the First Church.”
Rachel Winslow shrank from making her plans or her thought public. But with all her repression, there was possible in her an occasional sudden breaking out that was simply an impulsive, thoroughly truthful expressing of her most inner personal feeling. She spoke now in this way.
“I have no other reason than a conviction that Jesus Christ would do the same thing,” she said, looking into Madame Page’s eyes with a clear, earnest gaze.
Madame Page looked aghast and Rollin stared. Before her grandmother could say anything,
“Grandmother, I told you we have both promised to make that the standard of our conduct for a year. We have not been able to arrive at our decisions rapidly. The difficulty in knowing what Jesus would do has perplexed Rachel and me a good deal.”
Madame Page sat up a little straighter in her chair, gathering her expensive finery about her in an authoritative way. She looked straight at
“Of course, I understand Mr. Maxwell’s statements. They are perfectly impractical to put into practice. I felt confident at the time that those who promised would find this out after a trial and abandon the whole idea as visionary and absurd. I have nothing to say about Miss Winslow’s decisions, but”—she paused and continued with a sharpness that was new to Rachel—“I hope you have no foolish notions in this matter,
“I have a great many notions,” replied
“Excuse me, ladies,” said Rollin, rising from the table. “The conversation is getting beyond my depth.”
He left the dining room and there was silence for a moment. Madame Page was angry and her anger was formidable, although checked in some measure by the presence of Rachel.
“I am older by several years than you young ladies,” she said, and her hauteur seemed to Rachel to rise up like a great frozen wall between them. “What you have promised in a spirit of what I call false emotion, is impossible to perform.”
“Do you mean, Grandmother, that we cannot possibly act as our Lord would, or do you mean that if we try to, we shall offend the customs and prejudices of society?” asked Virginia.
“It is not required! It is not necessary! Besides, how can you act with any—“
Madame Page paused, broke off her sentence, and then turned to Rachel.
“What will your mother say to your decision? My dear, is it not foolish? What do you expect to do with your voice anyway?”
“I don’t know what Mother will say yet,” Rachel answered, with a sudden shrinking from trying to give her mother’s probable answer. If there was a woman in all Raymond with great ambitions for her daughter’s success as a singer, Mrs. Winslow was that woman.
“Oh, you will see it in a different light after wise thought. Furthermore,” continued Madame Page, rising from the table, “you will live to regret it if you do not accept the concert company’s offer or something like it.”
Rachel left soon after, feeling that her departure was to be followed by a very painful conversation between Virginia and her grandmother. As she afterward learned,