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he said to those around him, as they poured their
congratulations thick upon him, “Oh! my fellows,
I was a weak and trembling coward. You have no
idea how near I came returning without her. I am
ashamed of myself. It was your cries of encourage
ment that nerved me for the task.”
God only knows how many faltering, trembling,
weak souls there are to-day who need cheer. How
many times the clouds have hung over us, with no
pillar of fire to guide. How many times have we
stood by the waters of the Red Sea and seen the
angry waves roll and break, and no way to escape?
We needed cheer there to bid us onward. If, when
we are fearful, some tender, loving, confiding hand
had been put in ours, and a sweet, gentle voice had
spoken, we would have seen the way of escape. Oh!
my friends, let us be on the alert for such oppor
tunities for doing good. There are so many people
to-day who could be saved from falling and from
great mistakes if the right thing was said in the
right way, and at the right time by the right man.
A Holy Life.
Fourth, but lastly, we may do good by living a
holy life.
There is nothing that counts for so much in a
community as a holy life. Several years ago in
Roanoke, Va., there was a great riot. A negro was
held in jail for committing an awful crime. A cer
tain rough element of people became very much
enraged and organized a mob to demand the pris
oner that they might lynch him. The Mayor of the
city, to counteract the mob, called out the two mili
tary companies and stationed them in the jail. The
mob, however, continued to demand the prisoner,
and finally made an attack upon the jail. The mili
tary companies opened fire and ten men were killed.
While the firing was going on the authorities got
the prisoner out of the jail and carried him away.
The mob found it out and went in pursuit of him.
They finally overtook him, snatched him from the
officers and swung him to the limb of a tree almost
in the heart of the city.
But even this did not satisfy them. They were
so enraged at the Mayor for ordering the military
to fire that they took the poor dead criminal from
the limb and started to drag him through the streets
of the city to the Mayor’s house. There was no
stopping them. They had gotten beyond the power
of the officers and the military companies. Finally
the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church, an old
resident of the city, and one of the best men in the
world, stepped out in front of the mob and, lifting
his hand, said: “Men, in the name of God stop this
thing! If you go any further you will have to
trample on my body; this thing must stop.” In
stantly the crowd dispersed and the riot was
quieted.
This is the power of a holy life. It is worth more
than military companies. We will never know until
we get to the other world how to value the im
portance of good men and women in our commu
nities.
And this is not only true with men; it is true
also with God. He places more value upon a holy
life than anything else. Take Sodom for example:
Abraham pleaded with God to save Sodom, and God
told him that if he could find fifty righteous men
there He would spare the city. But the fifty right
eous men could not be found. Abraham pleaded
again and God told him that if he could find forty
five righteous men he would spare the city. But
forty-five righteous men could not be found. Then
Abraham pleaded for thirty and twenty, and finally
ten, saying, “Peradventure ten shall be found.”
And God said, “I will not destroy the city for ten’s
sake.” Think of it, the fate of the great city of
Sodom would turn on ten righteous men.
What a value God puts on righteousness! Would
we do good? Would we see the work of God pros
per? Are we ambitious for our church? Then let
us remember there is nothing that counts like a
holy, righteous life. It outweighs money, culture,
position, influence and everything else put together.
Let us be careful, therefore, about our life. A
simple, righteous life is worth more in the affairs
of the world than all the wealth ■ and power that
winks at sin and mixes wi x A devil.
The Golden Age for June 7, 1906.
INTO MARVELOUS LIGHT
(Continued from Last Week.)
CHAPTER XXV.
By degrees Mr. Deveaux persuaded his wife back
into society. But she went in a listless way just to
please him, and because he would have gone without
her if she had not accompanied him. She resented
everything which deprived her of giving full sway
to her mother’s love. She must have some way of
satisfying her heart’s hunger. She could press the
baby heart to hers all she liked, she could kiss the
baby lips every hour, she could repeat, “I love you
baby, darling, more than all the world,” without
any power to say her nay. Thus she became more
attached to her home and to a mother’s duties,
while the husband drifted back into the world and
began to live much the same life as before he was
married. He spent the greater part of his time
away from home.
Not until little Maybelle was three years old did
her father pay her much attention. . Then her
beauty, so like her mother’s, began to interest his
artistic eye. He painted her portrait, and began to
take pride in showing her to his friends. Not until
he became interested in her himself did he notice
the extraordinary affection which had sprung up
between her and John Marsden, and again he be
came insanely jealous. John Marsden became the
sharpest thorn that pricked his heart.
Deveaux’s love for the stage once more outweighed
all other interests. Christiana and John both plead
with him not to return to it, but without avail. One
day he made the startling announcement that he had
an idea which would take New York by storm. He
was planning to put Maybelle on the stage. She
was such an unusual child, so gifted beyond her
years, that in a short time he would have her pre
pared to make theater-goers wild over her. Chris
tiana thought of course he was jesting. But he was
so persistent about it she was at last convinced that
he was in earnest in his intentions. Some stormy
scenes followed. Christiana appealed to John Mars
den. This made matters worse. Harsh words
passed between John and Deveaux. John was never
so angry in his life and left the house with the
intention of never returning.
The final result of a most unhappy chain of cir
cumstances was that Mr. Deveaux put his little
daughter, at the age of five years, in a Roman
Catholic convent. She was carried there secretly
and no entreaties from the almost crazed mother
could induce him to reveal the name of the place.
Christiana was too proud to make the matter pub
lic, but too broken-hearted to survive the mental
strain. She no longer had even the consolation of
John Marsden’s visits; as true to his word, he had
never called again. She was denied having even her
aunt with her. She had discovered, through a note
which Isabelle Conrad had written her husband that
her pretended friendship was only a blind for the
sake of the infatuation she had retained for him all
these years. She lost faith in God’s goodness and
in all men—save one. Her heart turned more and
more to him.
Christiana bore up under this strain for a year,
then a complete break-down came, followed by a
slow fever, which, day by day, ebbed her life away.
She wished and prayed to die except for the hope
of some time having her baby back home. Not until
she became delirious did Dr. Gordon discover that
she was dying of a broken heart, and what the
causes were. As soon as he had an opportunity he
said:
“Well. Deveaux, it’s a pity I did not let you go
when you had that attack of heart failure a few
years back. If you do not send for her babv your
wife will not live a week longer. It’s cowardly for
a man to kill his wife by breaking her heart. If
you are bent on getting rid of her that you may
marry Isabelle Conrad, why don’t you stab her
through the heart with a knife at once. Tt would
be far more merciful to her and decidedly more
By LLEWELYN STEPHENS.
honorable in you. I have lost all patience with
you.”
“See here, Gordon, you are getting decidedly too
personal, but since you have first broached the sub
ject of my domestic troubles I will say in justice to
myself the secret of the whole matter is that my
wife does not love me. She betrayed that last night.
I used to suspect that she loved John Marsden, but
they kept their secret so well I had decided I was
mistaken. I care nothing for Isabelle Conrad; I
simply used her as a tool, but I have discovered she
was all the time making the tool of me. I love my
wife yet in a mad, jealous way, and you can imagine
how desperate it makes me to hear her say that she
loves another man. John Marsden, my best beloved
and truest friend, not only won my wife from me,
but my baby also. Why man, the child
far better than she did me. Do you think (I could
tolerate all that? No, never. He advisednijrTHAfe'
and dared dictate to me how I should
daughter. You may think me hard and
far easier to preach than to practice.
I feel toward the man who professed
friend, but who has proven to be suc&tf
As long as my wife was true to me,
When she ceased to love me all haU- BMc
dies I suppose I shall commit I3utoagi|t)ng
as she lives I shall have some
on him. So let me alone. Far and
I were both dead, and our baby, tkcu, ra&mljMga.flier
see them both dead than for Jopos
sess and enjoy them. Curse hi)A.
Dr. Gordon turned away, drifts with
Deveaux were useless. Zy
When Julian Deveaux heard ’s own
lips in her delirium that she loved JnjKjfiqfsden he
was at first as if dumb. The n jealous t#y filled his
whole being. His next impulse wgs to go to John
and tell him of the untrue friend, tfye great hypo
crite, the Judas-like minister he had discovered him
to be. Upon second thought, however, he decided a
±ar greater punishment would be to persuade him,io
Christiana’s dying bedside, calmly watch his suf
fering, then, when she was gone tell him what he
thought of him..
John was not surprised to see him enter his study,
for he had heard that Christiana was very ill. He
thought Julian would turn to him again in the hour
of trouble. Many times he regretted not having
endured any insult Deveaux might heap upon him
for the sake of her so secretly loved. Deveaux made
every word cut as deeply as possible.
“John, Annie is dying.”
John Marsden caught to the table and gasped as
if a knife had been plunged into his heart.
“Yes, our Annie is dying, and I thought perhaps
we might forget all quarrels over her and be friends
again. So come, for Dr. Gordon says she cannot
last through the night.”
John mechanically took his hat, but did not utter
a word. He never realized until now how much she
had been a part of his very existence. Deveaux
smiled grimly to himself over his revenge. His plan
was working well. He could not have wished for
better results.
The two men entered the death chamber together.
Deveaux motioned John to one side of the bed and
gave him a chair, then sat himself down on the
opposite side that he might have full view of his
suffering.
With no light of recognition in her eyes Chris
tiana turned to John and said:
“If John would only come I am sure he would
make it all right. He always made things right. I
wish I had told him how I loved him, then perhaps
be would have pitied me a little and have come back
to see me sometimes. If he knew how I am dying
for a sight of my baby’s face I believe he would
find her for me, even if he had to go through blood
to do it. I would go through blood for him.
(Continued Next Week.)
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