The Angel of His Presence (5 page)

"I do not understand, Joe," he said at last, looking from one to another of the two boys who seemed too wretched to care to live longer. "Who is she?
And
what is it that she does not know, and that you want me to 'quit'? And why should it be anything to her, whoever she is, what I do?"

"Why it's her, Miss Manning—Margaret Manning—our teacher."
Joe spoke the name slowly, as if he loved it and revered it. "And it's that we want you to—that is, we want her to—
to
like you, you know. And it's the—the—I can't most bear to say it, 'cause maybe you don't do it anymore," and Jo
e looked up with eyes like a be
seeching dog.

"It's the
smokin
'," broke in Bert huskily, rising. "Come on, Joe, we've done what we 'greed to do; now '
tain't
no more of our business. I say, come on!" and he bolted through the window shamefacedly.

Joe rose and going up to Mr. Stanley laid hold of his unwilling hand and choked
out:
"You won't take it hard of me,
will you?
You've
done so much fo
r me, an' I kind of thought I ought to tell you, but now since I seen
yer
f
ace I think maybe I had no busi
ness. Good-night," and with a face that
looked as if he had been caught in the act of stealing, Joe followed his friend through the wind
ow and was lost in the deep sha
dows outside.

John Stanley stood still where the two had left him. If two robbers had suddenly come in upon
him and quietly stolen his watch and diamond stud and ring
and left him standing thus, he could not have looked more astonished. Where had been his usual ready ange
r that it did not rise and over
power these two impudent young puppies, ignorant as pigs, that they should presume to dictate to him, a Christian gentleman, what ha
bits he should have? And all be
cause some straitlaced
old maid
, or silly chit of a girl who loved power, did not like something. Where was his manhood that he had stood and let himself be insulted, be it ever so humbly, by boys who were not fit for him to wipe his feet
upon
? His kindling eyes lifted unexpectedly to the picture. The Master was watching him from his quiet table under the arches of stone. He stood a minute under the gaze and then he turned the lights all out and sat down in the dark. The fire was out too, and only the deep red glow behind the coals made a little lighting
of the darkness.
And
there in the dark the boy Joe's face came back clearly and he felt sorry he
had not spoken some word of com
fort to the wretched fellow who felt so keenly the meaning of what he had done. There had been love for him in Joe's look and he could not be angry with him now he remembered that.

Bit by bit the winter of his work for Joe came back, little details that he did not suppose he ever should recall, but which had seemed filled with so much meaning then because he had been working for a soul's salvation and with the divine love for souls in his heart.
What joy he had that winter!
How sorry he had been to leave it all and go away. Now he came to think of it, he had never been so truly happy since. Oh, for that joy over aga
in!
Oh, to take pleas
ure in prayer as he had done in those days!
What was this that was sweeping over him? When
ce came this sudden dissatisfac
tion with
himself
? He tried to be angry with the two boys for their part in the matter, and to laugh at himself for
being influenced
by them, but still he could not put it away.

A stick in the fire fell apart and scattered
a shower of sparks about, blazing up into a brief glow. The room
was illuminated
just for an instant and the face of the Christ shone out clearly before the silent man sitting in front of the picture.
Then the fire died out and the room was dark and only the sound of the settling coals broke the stillness.
He seemed to be alone with Christ, face to face, with his heart open to his Lord. He could not shrink back now nor put in other thoughts. The time to face the change in
himself
had come and he was facing it alone with his God.

IT was the next evening, and the Forest Hill Mission had assembled in full force. They were there, from little Mrs. Brown in her black percale, even to Mrs. Ketchum, who had pocketed her pride, and in a low-necked gown with a long train was making the most of her position on the committee. She arranged herself to "receive" with John Stanley and his mother, ignoring the fact that Mrs. Brown and "those seven hobbled
ehoy boys" were also on the com
mittee. Occasionally she deplored the fact that Miss Manning had not come, that she might also stand in a place of honor, but in her
heart
she was glad that Miss Manning
was not present to divide the honors with herself. It appeared that Mr. Stanley was delighted with the picture, had seen its original abroad, and knew its artist. Such being the case, Mrs. Ketchum w
as de
lighted to
take all the honor of having se
lected the picture, and had it not been for those truth
telling, enlightening seven boys, John Stanley might never have known to this day Margaret Manning's part in it.

None of the central group saw Margaret Manning slip silently in past the servant at the door, as they stood laughing and chatting among themselves after having shaken h
ands perfunctorily with the awk
ward, embarrassed procession headed by Mr. Talcut and the young minister who had recently come to the place.

When Margaret came downstairs she paused a moment in the hall, but as she saw they were all talking, she went quietly on into the new wing that had been for the time deserted by the company, and placed herself in front of the picture. She had spoken to Mrs. Stanley, who
had been called
upstairs to the dressing room for a moment just as she came in, and so did not
feel obliged to go and greet the group of receivers at once. Besides, she wanted to have another good look at th
e picture be
fore she should go among the people, and so lose this opportunity of seeing it alone.

From the first
view
it had been a great delight to Margaret Manning. She had never before seen a picture of her Master that quite came up to her idea of what a human repre
sentation of his face should ex
press. This one did. At least it satisfied her as well as she imagined any picture of him, fashioned from the fancy of a man's brain, could do.
And
she was glad to find herself alone with it that she might study it more closely and throw her own soul into the past of the scene before her.

She had stood looking and thinking for some minutes thus when she heard a quick step at the door, not a sound as of one who had been walking down the broad highly-polished floor of the hallway, but the quick movement of a foot after one has been standing. She looked up and saw John Stanley
coming forward with an unmistak
able look of interest and admiration on his face.

He had made an errand to his library for
a book to show to the minister in order to get a little alleviation from Mrs. Ketchum's persist
ent monopolization. He had prom
ised to lend the book to the minister, but there had been no necessity for giving it to him that minute,
nor
even that evening. As he walked down the
hall
he saw a figure standing in
his library, so absorbed in con
templating the picture that its owner did not turn nor seem to be aware of his coming. She was
slender and graceful
and young. He could see that from the distance, but as he came to the doorway and paused unconsciously to look at the vision she made, he saw that she was also beautiful. It was not
the ordinary beauty of the ordi
nary fashionable girl with whom he was acquainted, but a clear, pure, high-minded beauty whose loveliness was not merely of the outwa
rd form and coloring, but an ex
pression of beauty of spirit.

She was dressed in white with a knot of black velvet ribbon here and there. She stood behind his big leather chair, her hands clasped together against one cheek and her elbows resting on the wide leather back. There were golden lights in her brown hair. Her eyes were looking earnestly at the
picture,
her whole attitude reminded him of a famous picture he had seen in Paris. He could but pause and watch it before either of them became self-conscious.

There was in her intent look of devotion something akin to the look he had seen the night befo
re in the face of the boy Joe.
He recognized it at once, and a feeling ha
lf
of envy shot through him. Would that such a look might belong to
his own
face.
But
the remembrance of Joe brought another thought. Instantly he knew that this was Margaret Manning. With the knowledge came also the consciousness that he stood staring at her and must do so no more. He moved then and took that quick step which startled her and made her look toward him. As he c
ame forward, he seemed to remem
ber how he had sat in that chair smoking a few nights before, and how the vision of the "
ladye
of high degree" had stood where this young girl now was standing, only he knew somehow at a glance the superiority of this living presence.

A flush
at the remembrance of his visi
tors of the night before and their errand crossed his face, and he glanced instinctively toward the chimney cupboard to see if the door
was safely locked
.

"I beg your pardon,"
he said, coming for
ward. "I hope I do not disturb you. I came for a book. This must be Miss Manning, I think. How comes it that I have not had the pleasure of an introduction? They told me you had not come. Yes, I met your father on the steamer coming over. Is he present this evening?"

It was the easy, graceful tone and way he had, the same that had elicited the notice of the "
ladye
of high degree," only somehow now he had an instinctive feeling that it would take more than a tone and a manner to charm this young woman, and as she turned her clear eyes upon him and smiled, the feeling grew that she was worth charming.

He began to understand the admiration of those awkward boys and the feeling that had promp
ted their visit of the night be
fore, and to consider himself honored since he had a part in their admiration.

Marg
aret Manning was prepared to re
ceive him as a friend. Had she not heard great things of him?
And
she knew him at once. There was a fine photograph of him
given by his mother at the request of the school—and unknown to himself—hanging in the main room of the Forest Hill Mission.

Their
conversation turned almost imme
diately upon the picture. John Stanley told
how he had seen the original and its artist abroad, and how proud he was to be the owner of
this copy
. The disagreeable ex
perien
ces he had passed through
on ac
count
of it seemed to have slipped from his mind for the time being.

She liste
ned with interest, the fine, in
telligent play of expression on her
face which
made it ever an inspiration to talk with her.

"How you will enjoy reading over the whole account of the Last Supper right where you can look at that face," she said wistfully, looking up at the picture. "It seems to me I can almost hear him saying, 'Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.' "

He looked at her wonderingly, and saw the mark of that peace which
passeth
understanding upon her forehead, and again there appeared to him in startling contrast his vision of the "
ladye
of high
degree," and he pondered it afterward in his heart.

" 'And
this is life eternal, that they might know
thee
, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.' He said that in the upper room," she mused. After a
moment
she added, "Was it then, too, that he said, 'For I have given you an example that ye should do as I have done to you'? I can't quite remember," and her eyes roved instinctively about the elegantly furnished room in apparent search for something.

He divined her wish at onc
e, and cour
teously went in search of a Bible, but in his haste and confusion could not lay his hand upon one immediately. He murmured some apology about not having unpacked all his books yet, but felt ashamed as soon as the words
were uttered
, for he knew in his heart the young girl before him would have unpacked her Bible among the very first articles.

At
last
he found a small old-fashioned, fine-print Bible tucked in a corner of a bookcase. It
had been given him when he was a child by some Sunday school teacher and forgotten long ago
. He brought it now,
and with her assistance found the place.

"How I should enjoy studying this with the picture," said the girl, as she waited for him to turn to the chapter.

"And why not?" he asked. "It would be
a great pleasure to have you feel
free to come and study this picture as often as you like. And if I might be permitted to be present and share in the study it would be doubly delightful."

It was with the small open Bible on the chair
back between them that the file of awkward boys discovered them as they came down the hall, hoping to find an empty and
unembarrassing
room where they might take refuge. They paused as by common consent, and stood back in the shadow of the hall, as if the place were too sacred for them
to more than approach
its entrance. Their two earthly admirations were co
nversing together, the Bible be
tween them, and the wonderful picture looking down upon them. They stole silent, worshipful glances into the room and were glad.

Then came Mrs. Ketchum with rustling, perfumed robes and scattered dismay into
their midst and br
oke up the brief and pleasant
tête-à-tête
to her own satisfaction and the discomfiture of all concerned.