Romance of a Missionary, III. The Sisters Fernley

ROMANCE OF A MISSIONARY. BY NEPHI ANDERSON, AUTHOR OF "ADDED UPON," "tHE CASTLE BUILDER," ETC. III. THE SISTERS FERNLEY. Besides the work of tracting and holding street meetings in the city, Elders Donaldson and Dean were given the branch at Stonedale to look after. Stonedale was a suburb of the city, five miles either by tram or by road and footpath across the country. There were just twenty members in the Stonedale branch. Sunday School was held each Sunday morning, and services were conducted in the evening. It was the elders' duty to be in Stonedale during Sunday, at least. Usually they went out Saturday evening. If it was after the street meetings, they went by car; or if they did not remain for the meetings, they walked out early in the afternoon. The Saturday following their appointment to this new duty found the two elders walking along the road to Stonedale. The afternoon had begun fine, and they had anticipated a pleasant walk through the green lanes, away from the smoke and grime of the city; but they were disappointed in this, because it began to rain before they reached half way. However, they trudged cheerily on, for Elder Donaldson assured his companion that a warm welcome awaited •them at Sister Fernley's, where they were to take tea that evening. Elder Donaldson had been to Stonedale a number of times, but this was Willard's first visit. "I give you fair warning," said Elder Donaldson to Willard. as he looked over at him under his dripping umbrella, ''that you do not fall in love with either of Sister Fernley's daughters."

1 88 IMPRO YEMEN T ERA . His compai.ion only smiled in reply. "Well, you needn't smile so self-assuredly. A young unmarried fellow like you isn't altogether proof against such girls. I warn you." "I've never been in love in my life," laughed Willard — "but once" he added half aloud — "and the mission field is a poor place to begin, considering those very pointed and emphatic instructions which the president gave us." Sister Fernley was watching for them, and met them at the door. She took their wet coats and hats, and then led them into the cozy little parlor where a cheerful fire was burning in the grate. They drew their chairs nearer the fire, and leaned back comfortably in the big arm chairs which had been placed for them. What a blessed feeling of peace and contentment the elders have in the home of a good brother or sister! Sister Fernley was about fifty years old, but she looked younger. The expression in her face and her quiet solicitous ways, Willard could only describe by the term "motherly," and Willard had a liking for motherly ways. "The girls will soon be home," she explained, as she sat down to chat with them, "and then we shall have our tea; for you must be hungry after your long walk in the rain?" She looked at Willard. " 'Mormon' Elders are always hungry," he replied, "when there is something to eat." "Otherwise, they are not," she added. They sat chatting pleasantly a short time, when the hall door opened and closed with a bang. A head was seen at the half -open door. Then it was hurriedly withdrawn, and there was a scamper of feet up the stairs. "That's Bessie," said Sister Fernley. "She always lets us know when she comes." In a few minutes Bessie came down again. She had changed her dress and put a few touches to her hair. She greeted the elders warmly, and talked with no great shyness. Bessie was eighteen; she was not tall, but plump — not too plump —and rosy; full of life and good-natured merriment, she was among the elders a proverbial banisher of gloom.

ROMANCE OF A MISSIONARY. 189 The tea-table in the dining room now took most of her attention, though she found time to come to the doorway now and then to make some inquiries regarding Elder So and So, of Elder Donaldson. "Bessie," said he, "haven't I told you that you musn't be so interested in the elders." Bessie disappeared. In a few minutes she returned and stood in the doorway long enough to say: "Elder Donaldson, I've made some currant cakes for you— if you're good. They're hot, and have plenty of butter on them." " • Once more the outer door opened and some one came into the hall. "Is that you. Elsa?" asked the mother. "Yes, mama." "Elders Donaldson and Dean are here. Come in." The girl came into the parlor as she was, in street costume. As she stood for an instant hesitating in the doorway, she appeared as a vision of beauty to Willard Dean. She was taller than her sister. Her face was a combination of white and pink. As she came in without removing hat or gloves, Willard instinctively arose. He knew that queens demanded homage, and here was a queen. She shook hands with the elders, and Willard felt the firm pressure of that gloved hand as he had never felt hand before. Her sweet smile found a way directly to his heart. SHE STOOD FOR AN INSTANT HESITATING IN THE DOORWAY."

190 IMPROVEMENT ERA. Tea was soon ready, and they went into the dining room. All four sat down at the table. Bessie was still and sober long enough to allow Elder Donaldson to ask the blessing. Elsa sat by Willard. With gloves and hat removed, she was more beautiful than ever. A mass of dark brown hair crowned a shapely head. Her lips were full and red, and when she smiled at Willard — which she did quite frequently— he noted that her teeth were pearly white. She was a study in pink and white, and Gainsborough might have used her for a model. Elsa Fernley was a teacher in one of Stonedale's schools, and the talk drifted to schools and teaching,both English and American. ''Is the American system much different from the English?" she asked. Willard could not say, as he knew very little about the English schools. They all expected to go to Utah, some day, and she, of course, would have to teach. After tea they returned to the parlor. The two girls excused themselves while they cleared the table and washed the dishes. It was done in an incredibly short time, and they were soon back in the parlor. It was still raining without. The evening was grey and dull, so the blinds were drawn, the gas was lighted, and the company gathered around the fire. Willard Dean was naturally a shy man, and especially when in the company of girls; but Sister Fernley was so motherly, Bessie was so unrestrained, and Elsa was so kindly and charmingly attentive,that he soon forgot his shyness and felt at ease. Unconsciously he found himself listening with more than common interest to Elsa . when she told of her struggle in accepting the gospel. "It was a great trial," she said. "I knew the gospel was true, but how could I leave all my friends and join a small, despised people, as the 'Mormons' were? and then, you know, Elder Donaldson, what a place the first elders had to hold meetings in. It was a small, dingy room, the only entrance to v:hich was up a rickety, narrow, ill-smelling back stairway. I was actually frightened the first time I went there. Why, I thought, didn't the 'Mormons' have clean, well-lighted chapels, located on pleasant .streets, the same as other sects had? Of course, I soon learned the reason, but that didn't make it any easier for me. Then the people began to talk, and the school officials came to me. They reasoned

ROMANCE OF A MISSIONARY. 191 with me, first kindly, and then with more vehemence; but I promised them nothing. When I was fully convinced that 'Mormonism' is the truth, I was baptized. — Well, that was a year ago, and I am still teaching. Everybody said that the day I joined the 'Mormons' would mark my discharge, and I would have thought so myself but for a promise one of the elders gave me . A good many people have already told me that they admired the stand I took in not resigning my position, as some said I would be forced to do." AndWillard Dean was now among those admirers, although he did not tell her so. The evening passed rapidly as they talked. Bessie had slipped from her chair down to a low stool, and resting her head upon her mother's knee, she looked up first into one face and then into another. Elder Dean received the closest scrutiny, because, of course, he was a new elder. Bessie was quiet for fully ten minutes at a time — quite a record for her. Elsa did most of the talking, and the rich, clear English accent was music .to Willard Dean. That night, as the two missionaries were going to their lodgings, Elder Donaldson asked: "Well, what do you think of them?" ''They are lovely people," was Willard's reply. "And especially Sister Elsa, eh?" "She is a lovely girl, certainly." "What did I tell you? I warned you!" "Have I done or said anything to deserve your 'I told you so?' " "No, but—" "Well, I know my duty, brother." Nevertheless, that night was somewhat wakeful to Willard Dean. That he had been impressed with Elsa Fernley's beauty of face and form, heart and soul, he could not deny, and yet he feared to admit it, even to himself. It must not be, he said to himself emphatically. He must not in the least give way. What had the mission president said to them when he had given them their instructions? "Remember," were the words, "there is to be no love making while you are upon this mission. If any elder is caught courting, home he goes. You cannot court and do your

192 IMPROVEMENT ERA. duty at the same time." But why should he worry? He was not courting and never would; and yet he was not wholly at ease. Elsa Fernley's voice rang in his ears; he saw her beaming eyes, and felt the good-night pressure of her hand. This much of Willard Dean must be explained: He never had been what is termed a "ladies' man." As a boy, he had been shy and awkward; as a young man, he had never been a favorite with the girls. Something about him seemed to repel the girls of his set. He had not even learned to dance. He blundered with the girls. When he tried to be gallant, he made some awkward mistakes and was laughed at. He never had a sweetheart. He had never "kept company" with any young lady longer than a week. As he grew older he had become acutely conscious of this seeming lack in his composition, and so he had studiedly kept away from society. He attended his meetings, he went to the ward reunions and sociables, but otherwise he stayed at home, on the farm, or in the house with a book. Once — only once — had Willard's heart been seriously entangled. Grace Wells was a neighbor's daughter. They had been children together; but when Grace was eighteen, she had gone to Salt Lake City to attend school and study music. They had seen very little of each other for a number of years, but Willard watched her grow into a fine, accomplished young woman. She could play classical music, and would rather not attempt her oldtime melodies, which father and mother and Willard understood and enjoyed. The last time she had been at home— it was about a year before he had left on his mission — Willard became earnest in his attentions to her. She had always treated him well, but this time he was sure that she encouraged him. The dream— for it proved to be a dream only — lasted a week, but the waking effects were with him yet. Many and many a time Willard had watched the girls bestow their smiles upon the other boys, but his own heart-hunger was never satisfied. He had tried not to care. He had reasoned with himself, but after all, a feeling cannot be reasoned away. Time, with accompanying work and changed environment, had made Willard reconciled to his lot. What, then, would be the inevitable to such a young man

ROMANCE OF A MISSIONARY. 19;: when such a girl as Elsa Fernley beamed on him with eyes that pierced his soul? As far as he could see, Elsa was the peer of any girl he knew. She was bright, accomplished, beautiful. She was good and true, and loyal to the truth. Who of the girls at home would make the sacrifices for the gospel that she had made? Was it any wonder that while the little clock ticked away the hours that Saturday night, Willard Dean lay wide awake until past midnight? The next morning they met again at Sunday School. Next to the elders, it was plainly evident that Elsa Fernley was the leading spirit of the little school. She was organist, and class leader of the intermediate department. Willard could not keep his eyes from her, try as he would. After the school, the Saints stood around in groups and talked . The elders did not go home with the Fernleys for dinner, but after the evening meeting a group of young people accompanied Willard to Sister Fernley 's, where they had supper, and afterwards music and singing. Elder Donaldson spent the evening with some gospel investigators. That night, in his secret prayer, Willard talked plainly with the Lord. He told the Lord that he was in danger; for right here, at the beginning of his mission, he saw a danger more real and greater than had yet come to him. Tracting and street preaching were little trials of faith and courage ; being insulted by the prejudiced and unthinking did not now worry him; but here was something which, if permitted to grow, might lead to disastrous results. He must not give way to the beautiful vision which seemed to be knocking at the gate of his heart, desiring to be admitted. No matter how hungry his soul might be, he must refuse to eat . And the Lord heard the young man's prayer, and he was given peace of heart, and strength according to his day. [to be continued.]