A “Mormon” Woman’s Sacrifice

A "Mormon" Woman's Sacrifice BY ANNIE KAY HARDY Hers was a quiet, uneventful life, not an unhappy one. Monotony suits some natures, and Mary had never craved excitement. The care of her husband, the little ones, and the small, plain cottage, robbed her days of loneliness. Their intense love for music had been one of the welding links that bound her to the silent, earnest man who had chosen her for his wife. Few verbal demonstrations of affection passed between them, but as twilight deepened, and the impalpable something in sight and sound betokening nature's coming repose touched the dwellers of the home, George's hands sought the keys of the organ, and their voices blended in perfect harmony in the hymn, "Rest." He suddenly turned, his eyes shining with inspiration, and glancing at his wife seated in her low rocker, with the sleeping baby boy resting against her bosom, saw reflected from her eyes emotion strong as his own. "Brother Careless must always be remembered for that contribution to the musical world; its harmony satisfies me as no other piece in the Psalmody." No answer, only a silent inclination of the head ; and, looking closer, he saw tear drops clinging to her dark eyelashes. Thinking the solemn funeral music had awakened some tender or painful emotion, he did not speak again. A long pause, the swaying of the stiff leaves on the lilac bush ; the melancholy chirp of the Katy-dids ; the silent entrance of the moonbeams, and still these two, so much one, were hushed. When the music died away, it seemed as if an icy hand had clutched Mary's heart, and one of those sudden startling premonitions of coming sorrow took possession of her. "Let me put the baby in the crib ; he is getting too heavy for you." Rising from her chair she met George coming out of the bedroom, and with a swift movement placed her hands on his shoulders. "George, I could not live without you. I feel that I

A "MORMON" WOMAN'S SACRIFICE. 1019 am just your helpmate, and such a weak, unworthy one." The pathetic voice, the childish tremor of her hands, instantly touched his sympathy. This was so unlike his reserved, self-controled wife. "I'll tell you what is the matter, you are getting over-done with work ; we must have help. Just think, fifteen quarts of fruit bottled today, besides the care of baby and Joe,— baking and what not !" "No ; I am not too tired, but last night I dreamed — " "There; that is clear proof that you are getting nervous, nothing but a stern reality could disturb you. But come, tell me the dream, and I will make a comforting interpretation for it," he added, kindly. "I thought I stood on the shore of a great ocean, looking toward the west. The sun was almost out of sight and a broad track of dazzling light fell across the water, almost blinding me. It began to fade, and I discerned a small boat in which you stood upright. I watched intently, and at first had a feeling of security ; but, as the skiff glided farther away, my hands reached out imploringly and I prayed in agony for your return. The waves began to splash over me, but I did not move. Your boat went down. As I stood transfixed with helplessness, the tune we have just chanted together, began to sound from the water, and the great lapping waves seemed to beat an accompaniment as they broke on the rocks." "That must have been an impressive dream, but we will go out to Salt Lake tomorrow, and the sight of the water will break one part of it just as our music did the other; and I shall make the lunch disappear so fast, that you will want me to get out of sight so that you may have any share at all. Be sure and take plenty of fruit, some of your flakiest biscuits— and don't forget kippered herring." This was a long, animated speech for George Gray, but was compelled by the somber mood that had assailed them — from, they scarcely knew what. "What subtle, unknown forerunner, Whose wings I may never see, Came running to me, unbidden, Predicting strange things to me." Mary put away her fears, and said, practically : "Why, this

1020 IMPROVEMENT ERA. is bread night ; I nearly forgot. I must bring the yeast out of the cellar." Passing from the kitchen to the outside cellar door, cup in hand, she looked up with intense appreciation of the beautiful August moon with the bright star that was its close companion. "How lovely! just like fairy land." The tall pear tree outlined by the moonbeams, the vines, the locust trees in the distance, and all still, save the persistent chirp, chirp, of the cicadas in the trees. As she looked with loving reverence at the grandeur of the heavens and earth, the indefinable shiver again passed over her, and she silently prayed to the Source of all good to "keep them in perfect peace." Morning came with its many responsibilities for the young housekeeper. The regular routine work accomplished, she prepared to iron a few pieces of starched clothing, necessary for the afternoon outing. The fears of last night were forgotten. The baby was asleep, and Joe playing with his blocks under the table. Glancing at the window, Mary saw that the geraniums were drooping a little, and reaching for a pitcher of water, went to moisten them. "Why, there goes the postman down the street. I wonder if he brought mail for us ?" she queried. "I did not hear the bell." Stooping by the front door she picked up an ordinary-looking letter. Scrutinizing it with the interest common to all people on receiving mail, she read : "George Gray, City." Then, her attention was arrested, riveted, on the expression "Box B" on the upper left hand corner of the envelope. Local conditions and information have much to do with the possibility of grasping fully certain situations. Those words conveyed almost to a certainty the contents of the enclosed manuscript. Her face paled, then flushed, she turned and placed this harbinger full of momentous meaning to her, on the table, the edge of which was grasped for support. The oblong paper seemed swimming in the moisture that her heart was forcing through her eyes. "George is going on a mission," she said, softly. Then, applying an inward brace, she stood erect, determination stamped on every feature. "It had to come some time ; the Lord's time is ours ; it is all right." No selfish thoughts intruded. "The last payment is made on the place ; there is the fifty dollars laid by towards the new furniture, that will help over his expenses, and maybe he is not to go right

A "MORMON" WOMAN'S SACRIFICE. 1021 away." She made a swift inventory of his clothing and possible needs. The children's, and her own were so secondary, that they were not even remembered. The rapid planning was for his comfortable equipment. The whole trend of her devoted, religious life had been to make sacrifices without complaint, and if her husband had been called to go out as a messenger of peace, as a teacher of righteousness, she would support the enterprise with all her might. Clinging to her home as closely as the honey-suckle that climbed around the door, she could say to the one nearest and dearest on earth: "Our duty shall be our pleasure." Mechanically, and yet with care and precision, she prepared their midday meal, not without often looking at the little clock over the table. Potatoes were pared ; tomatoes sliced ; peaches peeled ready for the cream ; then the graham bread was cut in thin slices just as he liked it. When all was in readiness, she slipped out and gathered a bunch of sweet peas as a finishing touch to the attractive little table with its snowy cloth. The gingham apron was hung on a nail, and a white one tied around her waist. Going to the mirror she smoothed the wavy brown hair, and attended once more to the fruit-stained hands to make them presentable. Joe was washed under vigorous protest on his part, and the clean percale rompers added for a short time to his sweet, chubby appearance. The twelve o'clock whistle had sounded, — it was almost time. Presently another whistle, well known to Joe, broke the silence. Heavy footsteps were upon the path. The three-year-old boy ran noisily out to meet papa. Mary started towards the door, but retraced her steps. Somehow, this was a holy day, and she wanted to be very quiet. "Now or after dinner?" she thought, answering herself by placing the missive in his hand. An instantaneous glimpse ; his eyes sought hers — their usual method of communication. "Is it?" she asked. Another look at the opened letter. "Yes, I am called on a mission. Mary, what do you say ?" "I? what can I say? what should I say — but go, and God bless you." "You— the children?" "We shall not want. I am not afraid."

1022 IMPROVEMENT ERA. A second letter located his missionary service : he was to go to one of the Pacific islands, in six weeks. Now began a series of special preparations. The Geography was consulted as to distance from home, and from the equator. Climatic conditions were inquired into with a view to taking suitable clothing. A large steamer trunk was procured, and in it were packed the articles, nearly all selected by the wife who was so solicitous for her husband's comfort. "Soft shirts will be preferable," she thought, for among the natives it will be difficult to have the laundering done; and woolen socks will not wear out as fast as cotton — and that reminds me, I must fix a whole, bachelor's outfit, for Brother Jones says riding through the bush is very hard upon the clothing." So, pins, needles, darning and sewing cottons, scissors, etc., were stored in the yawning trunk, which, however, was soon crowded beyond its capacity, for parcels began to arrive, filled with loving remembrances for far-away missionary husbands, sons, and brothers. The idea of taking an American mackintosh was abandoned because Brother Jones said a "slicker" purchased in the colonies would better withstand the rain during the wet season. A plain business suit was procured for travel in cars and steamer, and some half-worn suits were included for the horseback riding on the Island. They decided to rent the house, and Mary and the children were to live with Aunt Susan while papa was away. While Mary was working for his personal comfort, George was employed with the greater business of trying to provide some little income to keep his loved ones from want during his absence. Such pleasant, sweet little surprises came to George and Mary during those busy days. "The house is rented for a year at sixteen dollars a month, and to a good tenant," said George. Just then at the screen door appeared two pretty, girlish forms encased in fluffy, summer draperies. Before they would sit down, the girls, members of Brother Gray's theological class, began their breezy chat, and laughter. Youth, sweet spring time of life, with lovely spell, you carry us back to the green lanes, and bloomy airs of existence ! "Brother Gray, we know about your mission call, and where you are going, and here are some little love tokens for you.

A "MORMON" WOMAN'S SACRIFICE. 1023 These handkerchiefs are Utah silk. I worked your initials myself, and embroidered the little sachet, too. Take them with best wishes for success." "And I," said the other, "have earned some money, the first in my life, by sewing, I brought this Testament and hymn book, and some of the chapters we had for our last Sunday's lesson are marked. The class has arranged for a little "farewell" party in the vestry tomorrow night, you and Aunt Susan must come with the guest of honor, Mrs. Gray." George's eyes were growing a little misty. Somehow, he began to realize that his patient efforts in behalf of the young had not been all unavailing. This appreciation was sweet. His dignified, rather unapproachable manner had, unwittingly, forbidden the exchange of confidence, so lovely to both pupil and teacher. Now this mission, so great an event in our community, broke down the barriers of reserve, and good will and wishes flooded through the gates. When the big "farewell" was given in the ward meeting house, George feared he was getting more than his deserts. The room was decorated with dahlias and sunflowers. A mandolin and guitar club furnished music. The Sunday school girls dressed in white acted as ushers, and were kept employed seating not only his friends of the "ward," but also many from distant wards. The choir sang suitable selections, recitations were given, also instrumental and vocal solos, and speeches commendatory of George's past labors and encouragement for the experience that was coming. Then, when he was called from the audience to make his farewell speech, although accustomed to public speaking, his heart beat with rapid, heavy throbs and a lump which half choked his utterance, refused to move from his throat. As he stood on the platform, the strong emotions that were surging within, betrayed themselves in every feature of his handsome face. As Mary, seated in the back of the room, looked at him, a great rush of pride, affection, joy and pain filled her soul. Yet those conflicting thoughts forced no outward manifestation. Quickly her mind turned backward to the time in their school days, when he, a shy, never awkward youth, began to show a preference for her society. Not intrusive, always gallant, it seemed just then that she could not remember the time when she did not both respect and love him. Great events often recur in groups in the associations of

1024 IMPROVEMENT ERA. memory, and she lived again the time when with penetrating, soulful eyes fixed upon her, he for the first time, in words, said simply but grandly, "Mary, I love you, will you be my wife?" She could see the apple blossoms ; could feel the breezes that were blowing that happy day. Then they knelt beside the altar and promised to be true through "time and all eternity." Next, a feeble wail seemed to sound telling her she was a mother, and George held their baby's face to her lips to be kissed. How much thought can be accomplished without any active conscious effort ! The "farewell" was over, and a handshaking and good wishing such as George had never experienced before would linger with him forever. In the morning, old sister Meek called. "Brother Gray, you were very kind to my sick boy before he died. I could never tell how thankful I was and am to you. Here are two neckties, one black the other white. I thought they would be suitable for a missionary. Wear them to please me, and remember I shall always pray for your safety." George's heart was softened with love towards his fellowmen during these last days at home, and his resolutions to aid humanity were strengthened. The parting hour came. In the sacred shelter of their own home, George said good-bye to his loved ones, for years, at least, he thought. His first letter, a hurried one came from San Francisco, he was to take steamer from that point. The second, from the Sandwich Isles, enclosing some foreign-looking leaves. The arrival at the destined Island ; detailed accounts of the sea voyage ; first impressions of the native people ; their manners, customs ; his forced introduction to their "Rio" (language), as he was left alone in a village whose people were unacquainted with English ; his loneliness, dependence upon God for comfort and aid ; his solicitation for the health and happiness of the loved ones at home, — all these furnished abundant themes for interesting correspondence. Between the pages of the letters, pressed ferns and flowers were never wanting. These were received with joy and thanksgiving by the waiting wife ; were kissed and carried near her heart through the day; read and reread with moist eyes, and placed under her pillow at night. In turn that monthly mail carried across the mighty Pacific loving messages from wife, babies, and

A "MORMON" WOMAN'S SACRIFICE 1025 friends. Also tokens for his birthdays and Christmas, and so time went on. Other missionaries spoke of George's wonderful progress in mastering the native tongue, and his aptness, and intelligence in dealing with the people. Two years slipped away. Another August twilight shadowed the scorched earth. Mary, standing under the big trees by Aunt Susan's gate, saw two men approaching. One, a neighbor, v/ith constrained husky voice, spoke with a reluctance that could scarcely be mastered. "Good evening. When did you hear from Brother Gray?" A quick throb of joy shook the form of the quiet, strong-souled woman before them. "George is released, he is coming home," she thought. "I had a letter two weeks ago," she answered with quickened breath. "A cablegram has come, — he is dead !" If a thunderbolt had fallen upon her from that clear evening sky, its effect would scarcely have been less disastrous. The blood seemed to freeze in her veins ; seeing, she saw not ; hearing she heard not. The messenger had not meant to be abrupt, his soul was full of pitying tenderness. They attempted to speak words of sympathy, and consolation, then turned sadly away, thinking perhaps some of the women folks could help her better. She answered the "Good-night, and God bless you," waited until they were out of sight, then, looking out into the great vacant world gave one low, bitter cry. She did not lapse into unconsciousness, and strangely enough as the waves of sorrow swept over her, she seemed to be borne upward above violent grief. The two years of separation were as nothing. Again the great August moon looked solemnly down ; a requiem chanted by the cicadas in the trees stirred the silent night, and the melody of George's unforgotten voice echoed through the chambers of memory, "Rest, rest, on the hillside, rest"— the last hymn they sang together. Lifting her eyes to the starry sky as she did that other night, in this moment of supreme bereavement, Mary thanked God for giving him to her, nor murmured that he was taken away. The grand world of life would never be much to her without the noble man who gave his life while trying to help others understand his conception of truth. Staggering up the pathway, comforted only by a deathless faith, through pallid, parched lips, she whispered : "George's boys must be cared for."