A Career of Repentance

A CAREER OF REPENTANCE By Orville S. Johnson Richard Larson had lived in the same house with his wife and son for twenty-five years, and never once had he been called dad. Indeed, he was seldom called anything at home. He had grown so apart from Marcia and Kent that he rarely saw them at all. He spent most of his leisure hours in his big study, supposedly absorbed in delving deeper and deeper into the hidden beauties of truth. He had become an authority upon most phases of the gospel. He was a successful business man. He had cultivated a wonderful smile that deceived most people who met him. Yet to a careful observer there was about him an air of humble sorrow. Marcia Larson was a beautiful woman whose greatest desire was to make the world, or as much of it as possible, appreciate her beauty. Richard had discovered that she was a "Mormon" in name only. Shortly after his son Kent's birth, when he tried to interest her in the work of the Relief Society sisters, she had laughed at him and gone calmly ahead planning her first trip to the Nation's capitol. After that first trip, Richard tried once more to catch her interest and hold it in her home. He failed ignobly. And fearing he would begin trying to influence Kent, she took the boy with her to Boston for a stay of a whole year. Richard never tried to interest her again; openly, at least. The years that followed were torture to his honest heart. He watched as from a distance the bringing-up of his only son in the ways of the world. Beyond being baptized and taken to Sunday school a few times, by way of showing the town a real son, Marcia saw to it that Kent's training was other than religious. In moments of deepest sorrow, Richard sometimes wondered if Kent ever had, or would think of God. His wonderings came to an abrupt ending on the 5th of September, shortly after Kent's twenty- fifth birthday, in a most astounding manner. Marcia had been at home for two weeks in succession, a thing in itself astonishing, having completed a two month's stay in Boston, where she had launched Kent forth upon the beginning of a career as a great violinist. She had left him studying under one of the city's best instructors to return and flaunt her triumph before her husband. She enjoyed each new victory of this kind, because she was sure that secretly Richard hoped that some day Kent would turn to him and fol- low his precepts. She had convinced Richard of her victory so completely that he was in the depths of misery whenever he was alone. And then at the climax of his despair, he saw Kent walk into his establishment. The boy paused a moment to get his bearings, then came directly to the

A CAREER OF REPENTANCE 441 tittle alcove beside Richard's private office, where he was wont to work during rush hours as one of the regular bookkeepers. Richard looked up as his son reached his side. Kent stopped and looked down at his father a moment contemplatingly. Then he bent over and spoke in low tones. "Dad, can't we go into your office? I've a long story to tell you if you can afford the time to listen." Then he hastily added, "It isn't about money." The word "Dad" brought a lump into Richard'si throat. To have a longing, even though a small one like wanting to be called "Dad," so unexpectedly fulfilled, was almost more than he could bear without showing it. He arose slowly and held out his hand. Then for the first time in his life, he felt the grip of his son's hand in friendly clasp. Without a word he led the way inside, closing the door behind Kent. He dismissed his stenographer with the instructions to allow no one to come in without first bringing his card. When he again turned to Kent, he wore a smile which said, "You're in trouble, son, let me share the load." For the first time, Kent realized his father's greatness of heart, and under that wonderful smile, he felt sublimely humble. "Dad," his voice trembled ever so little, "in so far as you know, is there any reason why I shouldn't go on a mission?" For an instant Richard wasi speechless. His face slowly paled as if he feared some new trick of his wife's making. He was silent for so long that Kent grew a little alarmed. "You don't think I'm an entire rotter, do you, Dad?" There was real pain in the boy's voice. "Let me tell you Dad, before you say what you think." "Just a moment son" — he lingered over that word, son — "I want you to know that I think you worthy of a mission if you really wish to go." "If I can only make you understand how much!" murmured Kent. "It was a girl, dad, a wonderful girl! I met her just after mother left me in Boston, at a little recital given by Brocharte. Almost as soon as I had been introduced to her, I loved her. There was something very familiar about her, and yet I couldn't think I'd ever seen or heard of her before. I watched her most of that evening and she watched me. I walked to her home with her after the recital and that was the beginning. "I think the next step was when I discovered she was greatly interested in religion. Of course, I immediately became interested in the same subject. Mostly we discussed topics she suggested, because I was too ignorant to risk suggesting new ground. We talked a great deal about authority of which I was at first totally ignorant. I soon discovered that she liked to talk about Catholicism, and I decided she was a Catholic. I dared not ask her what she was, for fear she would ask me, and — well there are lots of ways of finding

442 IMPROVEMENT ERA out what you are, in a great city, and I didn't want her to know what I was until I had learned enough to be something else. "When she did ask me, I was almost ready for the question and told her I was without any religious connections at all; which was nearly true. 'I like your franknessi,' she said. 'If there's one thing I detest it's the type of religious snob who is the same thing you are. He'll even be a 'Mormon' for a time if he's with a 'Mormon' girl.' "I couldn't even think I was a 'Mormon' after that. I made up my mind that she had planned that speech. She watched me close enough when she made it to justify such a view, and that she had planned it to discover whether or not by the merest chance I was a 'Mormon.' She knew I had come from the west and that the west held the 'Mormons.' Also, I knew the Catholics were bitterly opposed to the 'Mormons.' "In various little ways I began to build up the idea that I considered a man who was afraid to stand up for his religion, no matter what it was, a most despicable character. Once or twice when we were at a cafe or an opera she pointed individuals out to me, remarking that they were religious cowards. I avoided them openly. Gradually the light of approval deepened in her eyes until I forgot everything but my desire to win her. I resolved to bury the fact that I was a 'Mormon' as deeply as possible. "In this I counted upon mother's help, for Celia Marston was a daughter of one of the first families in Boston. Her folks had been abroad for almost a year and she had been running the home. She claimed to like doing that sort of thing better than hunting elusive pleasures that at best were uncertain. 'I think I shall choose it as a life's work,' she told me once. ' 'And no wonder,' I responded, 'You were especially created to make a home for someone!' I'd have said more right then, only we were on a crowded roof garden and I couldn't bring myself to talk of life's sacred gift in all that hubbub. "The next night we were going to see Jocelyn. I went for Celia in a cab. When I met her in answer to my ring, she had changed. At first I thought her folks had come home. But when she led me into the library and stood for what seemed a long, long time in absolute silence, I knew it must be something else. A great throb of fear shot through me. There was nothing more likely than that she had discovered my secret. I resolved desperately to get her promise to marry me soon, right then. "I seized both her hands and almost shuddered. They were like ice. 'Celia!' I cried tenderly. She jerked her hands free and stepped back. For a second she just looked at me, not angry or hurt, but wistful. 'You mustn't say it Kent, boy, not yet! I'm afraid, never If I let you tell me what is in your eyes, you'd only be sorry and

A CAREER OF REPENTANCE 443 ashamed. You might even loathe yourself after you had had time to think!' I can't say it like she did, Dad, her voice was soft like the low note of a flute. " 'Listen, Kent boy,' she went on, Have you ever belonged to any church at all?' "There wasn't the slightest doubt then, that she had found me out and was seeking vindication of what she had learned. It was plainly up to me to convince her that her suspicions! were without the slightest grounds. 'In so far as I can recall,' I asserted, 'I have never aligned myself with any creed.' ' 'And you've never so much as thought of investigating "Mor- monism," have you?' It sounded to me as if she were eager for an affirmation. I gave it. " 'Never!' I cried, and I put all the scorn and loathing into that one word that I could. 'When I stoop so low as to become even remotely interested in such a despised sect, I hope I may die!' " Kent's voice choked with regret. "Sometime, Dad, when I've suffered a whole lot, perhaps God will forgive me for saying that. I was sorry almost immediately. And what I've gone through since then has been worse than any phys- ical torture could be. I felt almost numb for a second, then I looked into her eyes again questioningly. She just looked at me for a long time and seemed to be drawing away from me, farther and farther. Suddenly her head came up proudly. Her eyes lighted with a defiance which her voice belied. ' 'That's what I feared, Kent boy. That's why I didn't want you to say it. Only I didn't know you felt so strongly against any religion. Had I thought that, I wouldn't have allowed you to become in the least interested in me. Much less, I in you!' There was bitterness in her voice, then, Dad, and regret. But she didn't break down, nor did she lower her glorious shining eyes. " 'My one satisfaction, Kent, shall be that I saved you from the self disgrace of having proposed to a "Mormon." ' Her voice held not a quiver and became richer and fuller as she continued. 'For I am just that, Kent. A little "Mormon" girl who will have only her religion when my family gets back. I think I shall go to Utah, then, and try to forget these wonderful hours, and that peculiar feeling that we have met before. Good-bye, Kent. Try not to think too harshly of me, because I didn't know you felt so strongly. Think of me sometimes, Kent, as the one who talked to you of religion.' Her voice seemed gradually to die, and I was alone. "I got to the cab somehow, and then to my room. I can't tell how I felt then, Dad, one can't describe those terrible feelings of remorse. A 'Mormon!' A 'Mormon!' kept running through my head. She's a 'Mormon!' God meant her for me, had I kept faith with him. We chose each other before we came here, but I failed to live worthily!

444 IMPROVEMENT ERA "I was so sure that I had missed my paradise that I thought of killing myself. Then I thought of you. It was a funny feeling, Dad, like I'd been smothering and suddenly found air. And with the thought of you came the thought of repentance. I tried to pray. I did pray in a way, but I felt as if I were asking for a forgiveness I had not earned. I felt better, though, and no longer considered killing myself, and knew that I should come to you. I thought of going on a mission while riding here on the train. It seemed to me that if I worked hard for God, then I might have a right to ask him for a favor. And, Dad, he might forgive me and lead us together again in such a manner that I will not be too ashamed to meet her. It's worth working for, even if it is only a chance in a thousand. Do you think there's any hope of getting my happiness, Dad?" Richard Larson's face worked for several seconds before he could speak. He gripped his son's shoulders almost fiercely. "Hope, son? I don't hope for your happiness, I know! You haven't com- mitted any very grave offense. I doubt if your crime was any more heinous than telling an ordinary lie would be. And while this is a grevious sin, it is not one of the greater ones and it is willingly forgiven by our heavenly Father, if we but sincerely repent. I don't know this girl, son, but she is a wonderful one. Anyone who does as she did must be wonderful. I can understand your feelings in regard to meeting her as a 'Mormon,' but if she is meant for you, son, and you put forth enough effort to prove to God you are sincere in your purpose to live rightly hereafter, he will grant your heart's desire. There will, no doubt, be many trials he will put before you. Satan will laugh at you at times and tempt you to dodge these unpleasantries. But if you will only keep your faith pointed toward God's ultimate justice, you will, in the end, find happiness. If not with her then, with a healed heart, you will find another. 'As for me, it will be the proudest moment of my life when I see you leave for the mission field. There can be but one prouder moment for me, and that will be to see you return with an honorable release." A low knock took Richard to the door. His stenographer handed him a note. He glanced at it as he closed the door, then looked contemplatingly at Kent. "I had almost forgotten, son, but your mother made an appointment this morning for this hour and she is waiting now. I think it has to do with an increase in your allowance. Shall we see her together?" There was a note of comradeship in his father's voice which thrilled Kent. "Let's do!" was all he could think to say. Marcia Larson entered majestically. She kept her regal bearing for a matter of seconds before she seemed to realize that Kent was there. Then she rushed to him in a sudden alarm. "Kent, why are you here?" she demanded. He smiled down at her and kissed her before replying. "I'm going

A CAREER OF REPENTANCE 445 on a mission, mother, and I thought Dad would be glad to know- about it." "But, Kent — your career!" she cried in sudded alarm. "My career has turned out to be a career of repentance. I never could have become a great violinist, but I can become a great repentant." "You'll just be throwing your time away, Kent." Her voice rose in excitement. "Not throwing it away, mother, when I'd be paying part of a debt I owe to God." He spoke very quietly and deliberately. "But what about me, Kent? Don't you owe me anything! Haven't I earned regard from you!" She was sobbing wildly, then, and clutching him fiercely. "I owe my body and a lot of pleasures it hag had to you, mother, but I owe my soul to God. I have lived only for you, for twenty-five years. Now it is time I began to live a tiny span for God." She seemed to have suddenly lost all reasoning power and had become wildly hysterical. "No! No! Kent, no! I've counted upon you so! You can't fail me now! Can't you understand that if you leave the career I have mapped out for you now, that you will make it awfully hard for me to explain! It will kill me, Kent, to have to tell those people back there that you — you — gave up a wonderful career for a — a — oh, I couldn't do it, Kent." "Mother, I feel that I must go." "No! Kent, No! You mustn't leave me! You can't!" "I shall not be leaving you, mother, any more than if I were to go on with my music. You can find me just as easily any time you wish to see me." "Oh, Kent! Find you! Yes, I can find you! But what a pitiable find! My boy, who should be the boast of society, playing the part of a — a common tramp! Walking from place to place selling books! Giving away information that make9 him loathsome to all he meets! No, Kent! No! No! No!" It was a wild shriek, she lost complete control of herself and would have fallen to the floor had not Kent caught her and carried her to a divan where he laid her tenderly down, still clinging to him frantically. "You don't need religion, Kent! It's only a pacifier used by the upper classes to keep the rabble from swamping the world with lust and crime! But it isn't for men, Kent, real men!" Kent listened with bowed head. When she paused for a moment he slowly shook it in the negative, as if about to say something. It seemed to madden her afresh. She sprang to her feet and, levelling her glance at her husband, screamed: "You leave him alone, Richard Larson!" "But mother!" protested Kent, "he never so much as said a word to me. I came to him!" "He doesn't have to say anything, Kent! He only has to pray!

446 IMPROVEMENT ERA Millions of friends are at his call! It was they that brought you here! Don't listen to them, Kent! Be a man! Come back to me!" Tears streamed from her lovely eyes. There could be no doubt that she was suffering. So was Richard suffering. He feared his son's new faith would weaken under such great pressure. Yet he could say nothing, do nothing. There was no assistance he could give to his dearest cause beyond a silent petition for divine aid. Kent had broken down at his mother's last onslaught and had bent his head into her arms. She sat down, pulling him to his knees where he knelt sobbing, his head in her lap. She was caressing that head with all the tender longing she possessed. No one spoke or made a sound above a low sob for a full minute. Then Kent deliberately arose, and looking down at his mother through his tears, spoke slowly, delivering his ultimatum. "Mother, I must make this sacrifice!" It brought Marcia Larson defiantly to her feet. Majestically she stood, as when she first entered, and with blazing eyes gave her verdict. "You have chosen, Kent, good-bye!" Proudly she glided from the room, bearing her defeat as if it were victory. "Father!" cried Kent, "will she ever understand?" "I hope so, son," was all Richard could say. When they reached home, Marcia was gone. Where, neither had any idea. The weeks that followed were so filled that neither had much time for wondering. In fact, Richard gave her absence almost no thought at all. She had been out of his life so long that it seemed as if she had merely gone on one more trip. Kent never mentioned her, though it is doubtful if she was ever far from his thought during the rare moments he had to himself. Outside of those very few seconds, he was too busy to think of anything but his mission. Richard held long talks with his son upon certain principles of the gospel, in a great effort to prepare Kent for what was before him in the field. These talks grew more and more interesting to each as they probed deeper and deeper into what to Kent had hitherto been mostly a great mystery. Under his father's guidance, however, things became clearer and clearer, until, when the time finally came for Kent to leave, he was all eagerness to give to the world the great truths he had learned. Into the Southern States he was sent, and given Elder Hugh Murray as a companion. Elder Murray was older than Kent and had been in the field almost two years when Kent came. He was the kind of man that made many friends, and Kent grew to love him. He was getting well onto the work by the time Elder Murray received his release, so that he was given a new man in the field as his companion. Elder Benson was almost as old as Kent's father and fully as sincere. It was to Elder Benson that Kent confided his story.

A CAREER OF REPENTANCE 447 And it wa9 from him that Kent received a striking view point that made his humility deeper even than when he had first been chastened. "Be careful, my boy," Elder Benson had said, "lest you put your own selfish motives before those of the Lord. That lovely girl did a most wonderful thing in turning you to God, but you must keep God always first. If you are here working for her instead of him, he will put great tribulation upon you to make certain that he has completely gained your soul. If your heart is in the work because it expects her as a reward, then you are not giving yourself freely to the Master's cause? Cleanse the temple of your soul, my boy, from any such thoughts and work only for God, for only thus can you receive full joy in your work." After pondering this and discovering that he actually did have, deep within him, so deep in fact that he had almost taken it as knowledge, the feeling that for his mission he was to receive Celia Marston as a reward, he grew alarmed. He redoubled his efforts to put her out of his mind entirely, but did not succeed. When he prayed he asked God to make of him an instrument through which his gospel might be spread. With his heart he asked God to make Celia Marston his. The longing for her was almost a constant prayer. It made him apprenhensive of punishment. He grew so to expect this blow that when it fell he acknowledged it as God's justice and bowed himself nobly to his cross. It did not happen frequently that Kent found his home newspaper on any news stand, but he was returning from his work of tracting one night, when he saw on a stand as he passed a copy of a paper published in Utah. He bought it and carried it to his room. Almost the first thing he saw was a short announcement of the marriage of Frank Harris, son of one of Utah's most prominent families socially, to Miss Celia Marston, of Boston. And then, while his heart was still numb from the blow, before he had time to become fully aware of how deep the loss he had suffered, he opened the door in answer to a low knock and stood face to face with his mother. She threw her arms about him. "I had to see you, Kent! I was traveling through this part of the state almost without knowing it. And when I discovered where I was, I just had to look you up. I got your address from the mission headquarters and came here. Kent," she said softly, "if you must do this work, don't let it fill my place in your heart. For I need you, Kent! I don't feel whole without I know you still need me as your mother. You are my all, Kent! With- out you I have nothing!" "But what about father, mother? Hasn't he a place in your life?" "He mustn't know that he has, Kent. He wants nothing more than to be rid of me, and I am trying to keep him out of my life as he is keeping me out of his." Then as if determined to dismiss the

448 IMPROVEMENT ERA subject she stepped back and looked tenderly into his face. "You're not happy, Kent. Are you sorry you took this step?" "A thousand times no! mother. I've found the only way to happiness, existing for me. It is a little rough right at present, but there are smooth, shady driveways ahead. I have learned that the only true joy lies in serving first, God, then one's fellowmen." "But. it seems to me there is very little chance of serving either, away out here. Especially your fellowmen. How can you serve them when they so hate the 'Mormons'?" "We are seeking the honest in heart, mother. When we have traveled for days in the face of bitter opposition, and suddenly come face to face with one who is seeking the truth, then are we blessed. One such will bless us forever. For unto him we have given a chance to live again in the presence of his Creator." "But are there really any such people, Kent? Isn't that just a story told to the missionaries to keep them working?" Kent's eyes lightened with sudden enthusiasm. It would be great pleasure to let his mother see proof of this. "Have you been traveling in your car, mother?" "It's outside at the curb, Kent." "Then come with me, mother. I'll let you meet a man I met just today, quite a distance out in the country." They found him seated upon his front porch, reading. He seemed not to know that it was twilight and time for lights, if one would read. He looked up, saw Kent as he came up the path and arose to meet him with outstretched hand. "Mother," said Kent, "this is Brother Call. He has only heard the gospel for the first time today, but is much interested in it." Something seemed to impel Marcia Larson to hold out her hand. It delighted Kent to see her unbend. "Mother has never been able to understand how people become interested enough in our Church to demand so many missionaries," explained Kent. "So I brought her to you, hoping you would tell her some of the things you told me." Eldridge Call smiled a ready smile. "I told Elder Larson that in all my searching, I had never been able to find a road that even promised to lead to my happiness. I held great joy in my heart for a year. The year I was with my wife, but since she died, almost seven years ago, I've never known what it was to feel real gladness. I have investigated thousands of religions, it seems to me, but none of them held out what I sought until yesterday I saw this young man at my door. He had a message that seemed too good to be true, and yet as I look farther and farther into it, it seems, more and more, to fill my ideal of a perfect religion. It is not a selfish plan as most orthodox plans are, in that one may be a perpetrator of most awful crimes and still be saved by simply acknowledging Christ upon his death-bed. In this plan it seems that Salvation is reached through

A CAREER OF REPENTANCE 449 service to others. One has his ancestors to work for in the temples', in order that he may not stand alone in the Great Beyond. Then one has to help further the cause by missionary work, which but a very few have the privilege of doing in most sects. It seems to me that this wonderful creed is founded upon friendship. The one who is in greatest demand, that is, of not pretended demand, but who is loved by most, receives the greatest reward. Of course, I have only begun but that's the way it appeals to me. Now if you two couM stay to supper, I'm sure we would find much to interest us." But Marcia could not. She seemed to have received something that demanded instant attention lest she lose it. Almost as soon as they were in the car she opened her questioning mind. "Is what he said about being in demand actually part of our belief, Kent?" "It's all our belief, mother. It's almost like clean politics would be if they were run by God's plan. A certain number of votes are necessary to get one into the Celestial Kingdom, say. It is up to us to see that we make certain of those votes. That is, we must make ourselves loved by enough people who we think will be there, to such an extent that they will call for us to come. Just to' bring it close to you, how many of those high society ladies would call for you?" The idea suddenly amused her and she laughed softly. "I don't think there'll be many such ladies there, Kent, because none of them will call for any of the others. They only pretend friendliness to keep up the show." "Well, how many would you call for? Not necessarily society women, but thinking of everyone you know, how many would you vote upon as worthy and acceptable members of your home in the hereafter?" "There'd be only two, Kent. You and — your father. But," her voice softened to almost a whisper. "There'd be only you to call for me." "But think, mother, how easy it would be to change all that. You are beautiful, mother, and loveable. It would be so easy to make even thousands love you. If you would only forget about being a society lady and spend some effort upon gaining the love of common people, you would soon have enough to make a whole kingdom following you." "Kent, I'm afraid you've found another who has lost the road to happiness. Won't you help me to find it? You won't have to convert me to 'Mormonism' because deep within me I have always known it is true, but how to work and apply its principles to my every day life, is yet a mystery to me." "Have you time to read, mother?" "My whole time is at your disposal, Kent."

450 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Then I shall give you Added Upon to read. It will set you to thinking and may make a lot of cloudy things clear." That night Kent knelt in grateful prayer for the balm to his wound, which God had sent. For with his mother's new interest and the possibility of bringing great happinessi to his father because of it, Kent was able to keep his smarting heart soothed. And as his mission neared its end and her attitude toward her new faith grew more and more ideal, Kent developed a delicious eagerness that kept him almost continually thrilled with hope for great joy for his father and mother. The night Kent received his release, he telephoned his mother to come over. She heard his announcement in silence. "Kent," she asked, "do you think your father will ever take me into his heart as he did when we were first married? Do you think he would take me through the temple?" "Why, mother!" Kent almost shouted in his joy, "that would be one of the greatest joys that could happen to Dad! Will you do it, mother? And take me through with you? All three of us to be sealed together as a family for eternity?" "We'll do it, Kent! Or at least we'll think we're going to do it as long as we can. I've been awfully mean to Richard — your father — Kent. I don't deserve happiness with him, now that I've found out how really wonderful he is. But I'll make it all up to him if he'll only let me!" "Mother, we're going home to great joy!" Kent's words sounded to her like a glorious benediction. "Kent, does he know about my being changed in the way I am?" she asked suddenly. "No, mother. I wasn't sure you wouldn't change back again, and I didn't want to disappoint him." "Then let's keep it a secret. We'll see if a change in the heart shows in the face. Let me go to him alone, and see if he will recognize the change without being told." And with this great surprise in store for his father, Kent's homecoming was not clouded by memories of Celia Marston that might have been his had he been different. But it was and always would be sad, at times, he knew, because, of his great love for her, which he found did not lessen even after he knew she was impossible to him. Richard had seen notice of his son's release, and was thinking that it took Kent a long time to write or telegraph when he might be expected. He was seated in his study, gazing thoughtfully into the glowing fireplace, when the door softly opened and a woman entered so silently he did not know of her presence. She glided to a place beside him and stood looking tenderly, longingly down upon him. She saw him smile frequently as if some happy anticipation were being visioned as it would happen, and wondered if he was thinking of

A CAREER OF REPENTANCE 451 Kent's coming. Suddenly he looked up as if some unseen presence had made him aware, and saw her. Startled, he sprang to his feet, facing her. She never moved nor uttered a sound, but just kept looking at him with that same tender longing. He reached out and touched her. A glorious light leaped into his eyes. "Marcia!" he cried and caught her in his arms. Some minutes later the door again opened to admit Kent. He found his mother seated upon his father's lap, rumpling his hair and caressing him fondly. So engrossed were they, that he reached them and placed a hand over the eyes of each before they knew anyone was near. "Kent!" shrieked his mother. And a moment later he was feeling the welcoming hand clasp of his father. "Did he know, mother?" smiled Kent. Marcia Larson blushed. "Ask him, Kent." Kent's look questioned his father. "Know what, son?" "Why that mother had changed before she said anything." "So it was a surprise, was it?" and Richard's eyes lighted anew. "Yes I knew. But it seemed too good to be true. For a second I thought I was seeing an apparition. But it isn't all over yet, son. There are two others who can concoct really worthwhile surprises, be- sides you two," and his gaze lingered fondly upon his wife. "Son, you have brought back to me that which I prized most, and which I feared was lost. I am suffused with great bliss. But if you will wait here until I call you, I will show you that I, at least, appreciate your efforts. Come dear," he said tenderly to his wife, "leave him to his thoughts and let him wonder about the Almighty's ways of rewarding faithfulness." They left him staring after them with a puzzled expression that deepened with the moments. He wondered at his father's parting words. Did he mean a costly present, jewels, a watch or a set of books? Perhaps it was a missionary companion or somebody to whom he had taken the message of the gospel come to bless him. A low knock took him to the door where he met his father's smiling face again. "I only looked in to make sure you were still here, son. It will be about five minutes more before my surprise will be ready. Be careful with it, son, and think twice before you speak." He wondered if his father didn't suspect how he felt about Celia, and was making all the mystery in order to help him keep his mind off heart affairs. It showed just the thoughtfulness that his father was capable of, but Celia Marston could not be driven from Kent's memory by any means within mortal hands, he was sure. He appreciated his father's efforts however, and resolved to keep his secret hidden in so far as would be necessary to keep an illusion for his father. He saw the door opening and wondered if he was supposed

452 IMPROVEMENT ERA to be looking at it, or away. He decided upon the latter, and was looking at the window away from the door when a low sob caught his ear. His heart began pumping furiously. He whirled about in sudden suspicion, gripping himself with awful control. Seconds seemed hours as he watched Celia coming toward him. His body stood quietly to receive her nearness, perhaps even to touch her hand in friendship, but his soul shrank from such physical pains as began piercing it. Dimly, as from a distance, he watched her uncertainty. It was in her bearing — her face, her whole attitude betokened it. He saw that she was thinking of what she had once seen in his eyes, and hoping to make it at least easier for her, lowered his gaze to the floor. He felt her warm hands, not cold this time, but throbbing with life, grasp one of his. The might-have-been of it, cut a swath of terrific anguish through him. He dared not look up for fear, his eyes were glassy with pain. "Kent," she sang softly, "don't be ashamed. Forget those awful things you once said in my presence. God has forgiven you, and so have I. A noble repentance like your's enriches a life more than any life may be enriched which knows no such thing." He struggled determinedly to keep from laughing rancously at the awful humor of the situation. Not once had he thought of what he had said at that time, but only of what he would have said had she permitted it. She was taking his sorrow as shame. "Kent, I am very happy because of your success as a missionary," she sang again. But he could not look at her yet. There was a long moment of silence while she waited for him to look up, and he struggled to do so. Then she spoke again, her voice full of hurt, "Kent, didn't you want to see me?" That was too much. His whole being answered that question in a trembling sob. But his voice only said fiercely, "More than anything else in the world. But not like this!" She dropped his hand and recoiled a step at his burst of savage- ness. "Kent, what have I done?" She paused. "Why don't you want to see me like this? You did once." For the first time he looked at her. Never had she seen such agony in a face. His tones were bitter with anguish. "Because you are married, and I love you!" She recoiled again is if from sudden shock. "How on earth!" "I'd been known to read newspapers before, but not since," he growled. Her eyes lighted with sudden understanding. "And you've thought all this time that I was married and still can show — Kent, that story was1 an accident. Had you read a copy of the next issue of that paper you would have understood. It was an excusable mixup. Frank Harris' bride was expected on that train, but as none of the reporters

A CAREER OF REPENTANCE 453 had seen her, each was asking questions that would politely disclose her identity without directly seeming to. One asked me if I was the lady from Boston, and almost unconsciously I answered, yes. He asked my name and rushed off. That little announcement was the result. All the papers didn't have one like that. Most of them had it right. That one corrected its mistake the next morning." It was fully an hour later when a knock sounded upon the door that reminded them that the earth, yea even that very house, held others beside themselves. "And so you see, dear," she was saying, "had it not been for those absurd news notes, your father wouldn't have known about my being in the city, and wouldn't have been able to give me a position where we became better and better acquainted until he told me about you. After that we watched your missionary career with ever increasing interest. Your father called it your 'Career of repentance'." Looell, Wyoming. A Noble Pursuit By Joseph S. Peery All adults have a responsibility to help the young. It is your business and my business. We must not shirk that responsibility, nor pass it on to someone else. We are accountable for our influence — ■ good or bad. We would all like to have it said of us, when we get to the other side: The world is better for your having lived. We all would shrink from: The world is worse for your having lived. We all have influence for good or evil with the young. How noble, how Godlike, to help the young become better, to instill faith in God in the hearts of every young person we touch. What could be worse than to impair, to destroy faith in the hearts of the young, to delude them into thinking their parents are wrong, that reason is the thing most desired, to lead them away from simple faith into the worship of mentality. A teacher who deliberately beguiles a young person from simple faith in God and in his Son Jesus Christ into the gloomy darkness of infidelity, deserves the Savior's terrible rebuke: "Whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." (Matt. 18:6.) What worse hell could he face than a decree on the other side: You must stop — be barred from progressing, until you replace the faith you took away. In turn you are responsible for your pupils instilling infidelity into the hearts of others. What greater joy could come to a spiritual leader and adviser of the young: "Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." (Matt. 25:21.) On whose side are you and I working?