Books: In His Steps

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When Dr. Bruce walked out of the room at the rear of the platform
and went up 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
his expression. He proceeded with the service as usual. He was calm
and his voice was steady and firm. His prayer was the first
intimation the people had of anything new or strange in the service.
It is safe to say that the Nazareth Avenue Church had not heard Dr.
Bruce offer such a prayer before during the twelve years he had been
pastor there. How would a minister be likely to pray who had 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 like a little child on his knees, asking for
strength and courage and Christlikeness to speak his Sunday message;
and yet the prayer was an unconscious involuntary disclosure of his
soul's experience such as the Nazareth Avenue people had seldom
heard, and never before from that pulpit.

Chapter Twenty-three

"I AM just back from a visit to Raymond," Dr. Bruce began, "and I
want to tell you something of my impressions of the movement there."

He paused and his look went out over his people with yearning for
them and at the same time with a great uncertainty at his heart. How
many of his rich, 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 suffer. He went
on now after that brief pause and told them the story of his stay in
Raymond. The people already knew something of that experiment in the
First Church. The whole country had watched the progress of the
pledge as it had become history in so many lives. Mr. Maxwell had at
last decided that the time had come to seek the fellowship of other
churches throughout the country. The new discipleship in Raymond had
proved to be so valuable in its results that he wished the churches
in general to share with the disciples in Raymond. Already there had
begun a volunteer movement in many churches throughout the country,
acting on their own desire to walk closer in the steps of Jesus. The
Christian Endeavor Society had, with enthusiasm, in many churches
taken the pledge to do as Jesus would do, and the result was already
marked in a deeper spiritual life and a power in church influence
that was like a new birth for the members.

All this Dr. Bruce told his people simply and with a personal
interest that evidently led the way to the announcement which now
followed. Felicia had listened to every word with strained
attention. She sat there by the side of Rose, in contrast like fire
beside snow, although even Rose was alert and as excited as she
could be.

"Dear friends," he said, and for the first time since his prayer the
emotion of the occasion was revealed in his voice and gesture, "I am
going to ask that Nazareth Avenue Church take the same pledge that
Raymond Church has taken. I know what this will mean to you and me.
It will mean the complete change of very many habits. It will mean,
possibly, social loss. It will mean very probably, in many cases,
loss of money. It will mean suffering. It will mean what following
Jesus meant in the first century, and then it meant suffering, loss,
hardship, separation from everything un-Christian. But what does
following Jesus mean? The test of discipleship is the same now as
then. Those of us who volunteer in this church to do as Jesus would
do, simply promise to walk in His steps as He gave us commandment."

Again he paused, and now the result of his announcement was plainly
visible in the stir that went up 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.

Instantly 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 can 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 slowly broken. 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 she turned her
head and beckoned to Felicia. By that time the congregation was
rising all over the church. "I am going to stay," she said, and 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, and there was a flush of anger on her
cheeks, "this is folly. What can you do? You will bring some
disgrace on the family. 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 the depth of feeling that
measured a new life for her. She shocked her head.

"No, I am going to stay. I shall take the pledge. I am ready to obey
it. You do not know why I am doing this."

Rose gave her one look and 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, in a queer tone that made Rose redden.

"No, are you? It is simply absurd. I have always regarded that
Raymond movement as fanatical. You know cousin Rachel keeps us
posted about it."

"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
it 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," added Mrs. Delano 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.

"She stayed to an after-meeting," replied Rose shortly. She threw
off her wraps and was going upstairs when Mr. Sterling called after
her.

"An after-meeting? 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. I didn't," replied Rose, and she went upstairs
leaving her father standing in the drawing-room.

After a few moments 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. A servant stepped across the hall
and announced dinner and 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 apparently, and throwing
himself into a chair was brooding over something deeply when Felicia
came in.

He rose and faced her. Felicia was evidently very much moved by the
meeting from which she had just come. At the same time she did not
wish to talk too much about it. Just as she entered the
drawing-room, Rose came in from the library.

"How many stayed?" she asked. Rose was curious. At the same time she
was skeptical of the whole movement in Raymond.

"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 colored. Over her face and neck the warm blood flowed and
she answered, "You would not ask such a question, father, if you had
been at the meeting." She lingered a moment in the room, then asked
to be excused from dinner for a while and went up to see her mother.

No one but they two ever knew what that interview between Felicia
and her mother was. It is certain that she must have told her mother
something of the spiritual power that had awed every person present
in the company of disciples who faced Dr. Bruce in that meeting
after the morning service. It is also certain that Felicia had never
before known such an experience, and would never have thought of
sharing it with her mother if it had not been for the prayer the
evening before. Another fact is also known of Felicia's experience
at this time. When she finally joined her father and Rose at the
table she seemed unable to tell them much about the meeting. There
was a reluctance to speak of it as one might hesitate to attempt a
description of a wonderful sunset to a person who never talked about
anything but the weather.

When that Sunday in the Sterling mansion was drawing to a close and
the soft, warm lights throughout the dwelling were glowing through
the great windows, in a corner of her room, where the light was
obscure, Felicia kneeled, and when she raised her face and turned it
towards the light, it was the face of a woman who had already
defined for herself the greatest issues of earthly life.

That same evening, after the Sunday evening service, 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 bell rang and Dr.
Bruce going to the door exclaimed, as he opened it: "It is you,
Edward! Come in."

There came into the hall a commanding figure. The Bishop was of
extraordinary height and breadth of shoulder, but of such good
proportions that there was no thought of ungainly or even of unusual
size. The impression the Bishop made on strangers was, first, that
of great health, and then of great affection.

He came into the parlor and greeted Mrs. Bruce, who after a few
moments was called out of the room, leaving the two men together.
The Bishop sat in a deep, easy chair 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," he finally said,
lifting 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 laid a hand on the Bishop's shoulder.
"You understand what this means, Edward?"

"I think I do. Yes, I am sure." The Bishop spoke very slowly and
thoughtfully. He sat with his hands clasped together. Over his face,
marked with lines of consecration and service and the love of men, a
shadow crept, a shadow not caused by the firelight. Once more he
lifted his eyes toward 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 other 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 Maxwell and
himself had fought out.

"Now, in my church, for instance," 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
following 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 would throw the weight of his great influence on the side of
the Raymond movement? He had the following of the most aristocratic,
wealthy, fashionable 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 had
reached out his hand and with the familiarity of lifelong friendship
had placed it on the Bishop's shoulder and was about to ask a very
important question, when they were both startled by the violent
ringing of the bell. Mrs. Bruce had gone to the door and was talking
with some one in the hall. There was a loud exclamation and then, as
the Bishop rose and 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.

"O Calvin! Such terrible news! Mr. Sterling--oh, I cannot tell it!
What a blow to those girls!" "What is it?" Mr. 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 bed-room. Mrs. Sterling--"

"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."

Chapter Twenty-four

These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth.

WHEN Dr. Bruce and the Bishop entered the Sterling mansion
everything in the usually well appointed household was in the
greatest confusion and terror. The great rooms downstairs were
empty, but overhead were hurried footsteps and confused noises. One
of the servants ran down the grand staircase with a look of horror
on her face just as the Bishop and Dr. Bruce were starting to go up.

"Miss Felicia is with Mrs. Sterling," the servant stammered in
answer to a question, and then burst into a hysterical cry and ran
through the drawing-room and out of doors.

At the top of the staircase the two men were met by Felicia. She
walked up to Dr. Bruce at once and put both hands in his. The Bishop
then laid his hand on her head and the three stood there a moment in
perfect silence. The Bishop had known Felicia since she was a little
child. He was the first to break the silence.

"The God of all mercy be with you, Felicia, in this dark hour. Your
mother--"

The Bishop hesitated. Out of the buried past he had, during his
hurried passage from his friend's to this house of death,
irresistibly drawn the one tender romance of his young manhood. Not
even Bruce knew that. But there had been a time when the Bishop had
offered the incense of a singularly undivided affection upon the
altar of his youth to the beautiful Camilla Rolfe, and she had
chosen between him and the millionaire. The Bishop carried no
bitterness with his memory; but it was still a memory.

For answer to the Bishop's unfinished query, Felicia turned and went
back into her mother's room. She had not said a word yet, but both
men were struck with her wonderful calm. She returned to the hall
door and beckoned to them, and the two ministers, with a feeling
that they were about to behold something very unusual, entered.

Rose lay with her arms outstretched upon the bed. Clara, the nurse,
sat with her head covered, sobbing in spasms of terror. And Mrs.
Sterling with "the light that never was on sea or land" luminous on
her face, lay there so still that even the Bishop was deceived at
first. Then, as the great truth broke upon him and Dr. Bruce, he
staggered, and the sharp agony of the old wound shot through him. It
passed, and left him standing there in that chamber of death with
the eternal calmness and strength that the children of God have a
right to possess. And right well he used that calmness and strength
in the days that followed.

The next moment the house below was in a tumult. Almost at the same
time the doctor who had been sent for at once, but lived some
distance away, came in, together with police officers, who had been
summoned by frightened servants. With them were four or five
newspaper correspondents and several neighbors. Dr. Bruce and the
Bishop met this miscellaneous crowd at the head of the stairs and
succeeded in excluding all except those whose presence was
necessary. With these the two friends learned all the facts ever
known about the "Sterling tragedy," as the papers in their
sensational accounts next day called it.

Mr. Sterling had gone into his room that evening about nine o'clock
and that was the last seen of him until, in half an hour, a shot was
heard in the room, and a servant who was in the hall ran into the
room and found him dead on the floor, killed by his own hand.
Felicia at the time was sitting by her mother. Rose was reading in
the library. She ran upstairs, saw her father as he was being lifted
upon the couch by the servants, and then ran screaming into her
mother's room, where she flung herself down at the foot of the bed
in a swoon. Mrs. Sterling had at first fainted at the shock, then
rallied with a wonderful swiftness and sent for Dr. Bruce. She had
then insisted on seeing her husband. In spite of Felicia's efforts,
she had compelled Clara to support her while she crossed the hall
and entered the room where her husband lay. She had looked upon him
with a tearless face, had gone back to her own room, was laid on her
bed, and as Dr. Bruce and the Bishop entered the house she, with a
prayer of forgiveness for herself and for her husband on her
quivering lips, had died, with Felicia bending over her and Rose
still lying senseless at her feet.

So great and swift had been the entrance of grim Death into that
palace of luxury that Sunday night! But the full cause of his coming
was not learned until the facts in regard to Mr. Sterling's business
affairs were finally disclosed.

Then it was learned that for some time he had been facing financial
ruin owing to certain speculations that had in a month's time swept
his supposed wealth into complete destruction. With the cunning and
desperation of a man who battles for his very life when he saw his
money, which was all the life he ever valued, slipping from him, he
had put off the evil day to the last moment. Sunday afternoon,
however, he had received news that proved to him beyond a doubt the
fact of his utter ruin. The very house that he called his, the
chairs in which he sat, his carriage, the dishes from which he ate,
had all been bought with money for which he himself had never really
done an honest stroke of pure labor.

It had all rested on a tissue of deceit and speculation that had no
foundation in real values. He knew that fact better than any one
else, but he had hoped, with the hope such men always have, that the
same methods that brought him the money would also prevent the loss.
He had been deceived in this as many others have been. As soon as
the truth that he was practically a beggar had dawned upon him, he
saw no escape from suicide. It was the irresistible result of such a
life as he had lived. He had made money his god. As soon as that god
was gone out of his little world there was nothing more to worship;
and when a man's object of worship is gone he has no more to live
for. Thus died the great millionaire, Charles R. Sterling. And,
verily, he died as the fool dieth, for what is the gain or the loss
of money compared with the unsearchable riches of eternal life which
are beyond the reach of speculation, loss or change?

Mrs. Sterling's death was the result of the shock. She had not been
taken into her husband's confidence for years, but she knew that the
source of his wealth was precarious. Her life for several years had
been a death in life. The Rolfes always gave an impression that they
could endure more disaster unmoved than any one else. Mrs. Sterling
illustrated the old family tradition when she was carried into the
room where her husband lay. But the feeble tenement could not hold
the spirit and it gave up the ghost, torn and weakened by long years
of suffering and disappointment.

The effect of this triple blow, the death of father and mother, and
the loss of property, was instantly apparent in the sisters. The
horror of events stupefied Rose for weeks. She lay unmoved by
sympathy or any effort to rally. She did not seem yet to realize
that the money which had been so large a part of her very existence
was gone. Even when she was told that she and Felicia must leave the
house and be dependent on relatives and friends, she did not seem to
understand what it meant.

Felicia, however, was fully conscious of the facts. She knew just
what had happened and why. She was talking over her future plans
with her cousin Rachel a few days after the funerals. Mrs. Winslow
and Rachel had left Raymond and come to Chicago at once as soon as
the terrible news had reached them, and with other friends of the
family were planning for the future of Rose and Felicia.

"Felicia, you and Rose must come to Raymond with us. That is
settled. Mother will not hear to any other plan at present," Rachel
had said, while her beautiful face glowed with love for her cousin,
a love that had deepened day by day, and was intensified by the
knowledge that they both belonged to the new discipleship.

"Unless I can find something to do here," answered Felicia. She
looked wistfully at Rachel, and Rachel said gently:

"What could you do, dear?"

"Nothing. I was never taught to do anything except a little music,
and I do not know enough about it to teach it or earn my living at
it. I have learned to cook a little," Felicia added with a slight
smile.

"Then you can cook for us. Mother is always having trouble with her
kitchen," said Rachel, understanding well enough she was now
dependent for her very food and shelter upon the kindness of family
friends. It is true the girls received a little something out of the
wreck of their father's fortune, but with a speculator's mad folly
he had managed to involve both his wife's and his children's portion
in the common ruin.

"Can I? Can I?" Felicia responded to Rachel's proposition as if it
were to be considered seriously. "I am ready to do anything
honorable to make my living and that of Rose. Poor Rose! She will
never be able to get over the shock of our trouble."

"We will arrange the details when we get to Raymond," Rachel said,
smiling through her tears at Felicia's eager willingness to care for
herself.

So in a few weeks Rose and Felicia found themselves a part of the
Winslow family in Raymond. It was a bitter experience for Rose, but
there was nothing else for her to do and she accepted the
inevitable, brooding over the great change in her life and in many
ways adding to the burden of Felicia and her cousin Rachel.

Felicia at once found herself in an atmosphere of discipleship that
was like heaven to her in its revelation of companionship. It is
true that Mrs. Winslow was not in sympathy with the course that
Rachel was taking, but the remarkable events in Raymond since the
pledge was taken were too powerful in their results not to impress
even such a woman as Mrs. Winslow. With Rachel, Felicia found a
perfect fellowship. She at once found a part to take in the new work
at the Rectangle. In the spirit of her new life she insisted upon
helping in the housework at her aunt's, and in a short time
demonstrated her ability as a cook so clearly that Virginia
suggested that she take charge of the cooking at the Rectangle.

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