His companion waited with flushing cheek and eager eyes until the last letter was written; then he sprang up with an energy that set the arm-chair upside down, and uttered a vehement:
"Good! Jim, oh Jim, I could shout for joy. I have fairly held my breath for fear you would not reach the point."
Jim laughed.
"What a fanatic you are!" he said in a tone of a.s.sumed carelessness.
"How do you know I won"t break it to-morrow?"
"I know perfectly well. If I had not I should not have been so anxious to have you sign to-night. You happen to be as set in _your_ way as an acre of stone fences."
More talk ensued--eager, future plannings. Those two young men, very unlike in many respects, yet a.s.similated on a few strong points.
Theodore had constantly kept a hold on his early friend--at first because of the dear old mother, and finally because his stronger nature drawing out and in a measure toning Jim"s, the two had grown less apart than seemed at first probable.
It wanted but twenty minutes to eight when the young men left the room where important business not only for time, but, as it came to pa.s.s, for eternity, had been settled, and hurried, the one to the Euclid House, and the other around the corner toward the great dry-goods house on the main business street. He stopped first though at the cozy little white house, moved with eager steps up the walk, flung open the side door, and spoke in tones full of suppressed excitement to the old lady, who was nodding over her large print Testament, Jim"s birthday gift.
"Grandma, I have a present for you." And a crisp paper was produced and laid on the page of the open Bible. A glance showed it to be a temperance pledge--another look, a start, a filling of the dim old eyes with tears as the beloved name, James H. McPherson, swam before her vision, and true to her faith her loving voice gave utterance to her full heart:
""While they are yet speaking I will hear." I was just speaking to him again, don"t you think, about that very thing. Oh the Lord bless him and help him. Now, deary, we won"t be content with this, will we?"
Theodore shook his head emphatically.
"He must come over _entirely_ to the Lord"s side," he said, smiling, "now that he has come half way."
The city clock was giving the last stroke of eight as Theodore was ushered into the private office of Mr. Stephens. That gentleman arose to greet him with a smile of satisfaction, and then ensued another business talk, and the drift of it can be drawn from these concluding sentences:
"Well, sir," from Mr. Stephens to Theodore, as the latter arose to go, "how soon may I expect you? How long is it going to take you to get your business in shape to leave? We need help as soon as possible."
"I will be on hand to-morrow morning, sir."
"What! ready for work? How is it possible that you have dispatched matters so rapidly?"
"Why," said Theodore, "from two o"clock until eight gives one six good hours in which to dispatch business."
And Mr. Stephens, as they went down the great store together, smiled again and said to himself:
"I don"t believe I have mistaken my man."
[Ill.u.s.tration]
CHAPTER XVII.
TRANSLATIONS.
There was an evening party at the house of the Rev. John Birge. Not one of those grand crushes, where every body is cross and warm and uncomfortable generally, but a cozy little gathering of young ladies and gentlemen, people whom the minister desired to see come into more social contact with each other. Among the number was Miss Dora Hastings. Dora still continued to come to Sunday-school, although she had arrived at that mysterious age when young ladies are apt to be too old for anything reasonable; but Dora, for some unaccountable reason, so at least her mother thought, clung to her little girl habits, and went to Sunday-school; so she chanced to be numbered among the guests at Mr.
Birge"s party. Pliny was also invited but had chosen not to come, so Ben Phillips had supplied his place as escort, and stood now chatting with her when a new arrival was announced.
Mrs. Birge came to the end of the room where Dora stood, and with her a young gentleman.
"Dora," she said, "permit me to introduce a young friend of mine--Mr.
Mallery, Miss Hastings."
Now it so happened that although Theodore had been for years a member of the same Sabbath-school with this young lady, and had seen her sitting in the Hastings" pew in church on every Sabbath day, still this was the first time that he had met her face to face, near enough to speak to her, since that evening so long ago when they conversed together on a momentous subject. Theodore"s knowledge of the world and social distinctions had increased sufficiently to make him extremely doubtful concerning the young lady"s reception, but Dora was cordial and frank, and said, "Good evening, Mr. Mallery," as she would have greeted any stranger, and set him at once at his ease.
Ben Phillips good-naturedly held out his hand, and said, "How d"ye do, Tode?" and made room for him to enter the circle. It was a curious evening to the young man, the first in that mysterious place called "society." Probably the young ladies and gentlemen fluttering through the rooms had not the faintest idea how closely they were being watched and studied by one pair of earnest eyes.
Theodore"s ambition for a yellow cravat had long since given place to more important things--given place so utterly that the subject of dress had been almost entirely pa.s.sed over. Before this evening waned he was thoroughly conscious of his position. He discovered that his clothes were oddly fitted and oddly made; that his boots were rough and coa.r.s.e; that his hands were gloveless; that even his hair was as curiously arranged as possible. He discovered more than this--to many of the gay company he was evidently a laughing-stock; a few of the more reckless ones deliberately and openly made sport of him. Ben Phillips, who had been cordial enough at first, found himself on the unpopular side, and ignored the almost stranger for the remainder of the evening. In vain did Mr. Birge try quietly to bring him inside the circle. Those of his guests who were too cultured to make merry at the expense of this foreign element which had come among them, yet seemed not to have sufficient courage to welcome him to their midst; those with whom he sat down frequently at the table of their common Lord seemed neither to know nor to desire to know him here; and Mr. Birge"s effort to a.s.similate the different elements of his congregation seemed likely to prove a disastrous failure. A merry company were gathered around Dora Hastings.
She held a book in her hand, and was struggling with the translation of a sentiment written therein in French, and judging from the bursts of laughter echoing from the group the attempt was either a real or pretended failure. Theodore stood at a little distance from them, perfectly able to hear what was said, yet as utterly alone as he would have been out in the silent street.
"What terrible stuff she is reading," he said to himself. "I wonder if she really _can not_ read it, or if she has any idea of what it is." As if to answer his wondering, Dora turned suddenly toward him.
"We"ll appeal for help," she said, gaily. "Mr. Mallery, do come to the rescue. My French is defective or the translation is incorrect, probably the latter."
Another burst of laughter followed this appeal; but Theodore, taking a sudden resolution, stepped promptly forward.
"I conclude," he said, glancing at the book, and then looking steadily around him, "that you really do not take in the meaning of this sentence, any of you?"
"I am sure I do not," answered Dora, gaily. "It is about "everlasting eyes," I think, or some such nonsense; but what little I once knew about French, and little enough it was, I a.s.sure you, has utterly gone from me, so have compa.s.sion on our ignorance if you can."
Without further comment Theodore, with quiet dignity, read the sentence: "The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good." As he finished his eye caught Dora"s; her face was flushed and eager.
"You are right," she said, promptly. "We none of us understood the sentence, or we could never have indulged in foolish jesting over so solemn a truth."
Ben Phillips gave vent to his astonishment in words:
"Tode, how on earth did you learn French?"
Dora laughed lightly.
"He studied, I presume," she said, merrily. "And that you know is what _you_ never would do, Ben. Mr. Mallery, suppose you come and decipher for me the motto underneath the French scene in the further parlor."
And taking Tode"s offered arm the daughter of the millionaire moved down the long parlor by his side. Mr. Birge, coming at that moment from the dining-room, pa.s.sed the two, then turning back sought his wife to say:
"The experiment has succeeded. Theodore is promenading with Dora Hastings."
"The _splendid_ girl!" said Mrs. Birge, energetically. "I knew she would."
Meantime Theodore had resolved on a bold stroke for the Master.
"Do you remember anything connected with that verse, Miss Hastings?" he asked, as the two entered the almost deserted back parlor.
"Indeed I do," Dora answered, eagerly. "I never forgot it, and your earnest questions about it, and I could tell you so little."
"I found out a great deal about it, though, taking the information that you gave me for a starting point, and I have reason to thank G.o.d that you ever showed me your little card. But do you know anything more of the matter now, experimentally I mean?"
Dora"s voice trembled a little as she answered: