Jasper County Democrat, Volume 21, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 June 1918 — The Rector’s Vacation [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Rector’s Vacation

By MABEL J. BOURQUIN

(Copyright, IMS, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Rev. Robert Nelson sat In his study with a look on his higtebred face that showed more of trouble than annoyance, and it was occasioned by the presence of the vestry in the room. The vestrymen were ill at ease and they had come on a strange mission. The words of the silver-haired senior warden mingled confusedly In his mind with a picture from past days. “I hope you understand why we make this proposition, Mr. Nelson. You have served the church here very acceptably, and we certainly appreciate the fact that you have declined, for the sake of the poor and the sick of the town, to take a vacation during the two years that you have been with us. We have found, too, that you have taken the money yon would have spent thjis to provide outings for poor mothers. There Is not a person in the parish who is noL’ your sworn friend, and who is not better for your being here. “I hope I can make myself plain, sir, for it is not an easy thing I have to say. But for the last two months or more you have not been looking well, and —you will pardon me —there seems to be a difference in your sermons. They lack courage and seem to come from a heart that Is overburdened. If you are in trouble of any

kind, we shall deem It a privilege to help you. if we can. I hope you do not consider us officious. Mr. Nelson." “On the contrary, Mr. Grayson, lam deeply grateful for your sympathy, but I have no trouble that anyone can help.” “Then we shall have to conclude that you are worn out and sadly in need of a rest. So we have come to you with the proposal that you take a leave of absence for three months. This is hardly the time of year to propose such a thing, but the case seems to demand it. We will take care of matters in the parish until you come back. Go somewhere —take an ocean voyage if you wish; but. at least, come back with that strained look gone and that tired note out of your voice. We love you too much not to want to help you." The old warden laid his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, his voice broke and the rector’s eyes filled with tears. Finally the minister broke the silence. “I deeply appreciate your offer, and while I do not feel that I need a vacation your friendship means too much to me to disregard your advice and such an unselfish request. I hope to be able to serve you better when I return. Ido not know where I shall go. but will inform you as soon as I can decide. I shall probably start ‘ln the morning.” ,

When he was alone he sat down and looked again into the flames. There he saw what he had borne, in his heart for the past three months —a girl’s face. No wonder his sermons had suffered ! He wondered that with his days and nights of tor-tore he had been able to attend to bis parish duties at all. A vacation seemed a mockery. What he needed was hard work to help him to forget. But. after all, did he want that? Instead, with each passing day, he pressed his own thorn into his wounds afresh, and he knew that he was not helping to answer his own prayers. Where could he go? There was but one person he longed to see, and that he dared not do. Six months before he would have gone joyfully to a dozen different places, where the eager faces of old friends would have gladly welcomed him. Now, he thought of but one. Shut oat from that, the world was a blank. One afternoon in the preceding July Robert Nelson sat In a boat on the river, with a white, tense face, listen-' log to a refusal from the lips of a girl who was no less agitated than he. j Two months before, Muriel Waring' bad crane with her mother from the heighbering city to spend some weeks £tth relatives. From that Sunday

morning when the young rector had first seen her kneeling in his church, he knew that she was the woman he had dreamed of from boyhood, and he gave her the love and reverence that only such a man can give to a woman who Is fitted to be his mate. The worldly Mrs. Waring did not realize that her carefully trained' daughter could think of a poor country clergyman, and permitted her to do as she pleased. So there followed weeks of long walks, visits to the parish poor and especially boat rides. They had so many interests in common, and the young rector realized the strength she could be to him In hi» chosen work. And tomorrow she was going home,, and this was their last day together. While the boat drifted softly down thestream, he laid his heart kt her feet. To his dying day he never saw the setting sun without remembering how It shone on her face as she answered' him. “Mr. Nelson, had I dreamed that you would take such a step as this, I would not have permitted matters to go SOfar. I am to blame for this termination of your friendship, which has meant more to me than I can telkyou. There is no other man living whom I respect more nor to whom I would sooner trust my life. But I am not free.” “Then you love some; one else instead? I have been foolish enough to suppose you were heart free, and might, in time, come to care for me.” “Listen. When my father died, he left some money—enough, had we lived within oiir means. But mother has been very ambitious for .me.. She sent me to expensive schools, and spent large sums of money to establish me in society. She is hopelessly in debt. We are spending the summer in this little town because she dared not borrow the money to g« to Some fashionaide resort, as she has always done. Do not look at me like that, Mr. Nelson. I did not know the truth of these things-until a few days ago.

“So long as I can remember she has had a friend, an enormously wealthy bachelor, old enough to be my father. It has long been a standing joke that I am to marry him. I never imagined until this week that she meant it seriously. He and bis. sister are to visit us next week, and that is why We go back to the city. She told me that unless I accepted him we are financially ruined, and we shall have to earn our bread. So I shall be compelled to marry him, for her sake." “Wait,” interrupted the man in a strange voice, “do you love this mart?” “Love him? I simply detest him: Ob I know what you are going to say, that lam selling myself to him. But there seems to he no other way. You see,” with a pitiful attempt at a smile, “hew useless it is. Mother will ugvci give her consent; and J.'*annot marry even you without it. And now, let us drop the subject, please. Here we are at the landing.”

All this passed through his mind as he sat staring into the dying coals. He had never written, had obeyed absolutely her implied request for silence. But day and night her face was before him. He avoided every nook which reminded him of her, and worked with feverish energy one day, and brooded the next. He read the societynotes In the morning paper before looking at his correspondence, always laid them aside with relief at not seeing her name. He felt that the warning of the senior warden was true, and that hp was losing his grip. How was he to know that in the neighboring city a girl often cried herself to sleep with his name on her lips?

A falling log roused him from his reverie. He rose, packed his bags, and gave a few instructions to his housekeeper. He would go to the city, catch one glimpse of her faee, and then hide, no matter where. The postman passed and threw a letter upon the porch. There was but the one, and a glance at the superscription brought his heart Into bis mouth. He devoured, rather than read, the contents:

“My Dear Mr. Nelson; —I feel that you will be interested in a piece of news. Mr. Raymond has proposed at ] as t —not to me, but to mamma. No wonder he was so long making up his mind, for he no doubt chivalrously hesitated at the pain his decision would cause me. Thpy are to be married next week, and start at once for a wedding tour of Europe. I shall remain at the home of my cousin, Mrs. Ransome, of 326 Winton Place, indefinitely. “I hope that all is well with you. and that we may meet again some day. “Very sincerely, Muriel Waring.” Ten minutes later the rector called his housekeeper, and after a short interview with her, left her In tears of joy. Then he stepped to the telephone and called the senior warden, his voice vibrant with happiness. “I start for the city tonight,” he said, “and will be away for a month. Do not let the poor and sick of the parish suffer in my absence. When I return, please God, my wife and I will visit them together. Good-by.” And the telephone bell tinkJfcd a joyous refrain in the astonished senior vestryman’s ear.

Their Last Day Together.