Not My Will and The Light in My Window (33 page)

“I would have liked to get her a great big diamond,” Dick said in bashful explanation. “But I had to get it now so that she could be tagged as mine before those other men at Bethel saw her.”

“It’s a lovely ring,” said Mother. “I’m happy for my dear girl, and I’m glad that God has answered my prayers for her life. To know that Connie and you will be working and singing together for the Lord gives me great happiness.”

Later that evening Connie and Mary Lou were helping with the dishes while Eleanor and Dick sat on the porch swing and talked.

“Now do you realize the far-reaching effects of your Christmas invitation?” Dick said, unable to keep off the all-engrossing subject for long. “Future generations may rise up and call you blessed because of that little bit of charity.”

“Could be,” said Eleanor meditatively.

“Don’t ever tell anyone this,” Dick continued, “or they might think I was out of my mind. But before I had been here half an hour I had made up my mind that Connie was the only girl for me—and on Christmas Day she knew it! But she wouldn’t say yes until last week.”

“She probably meant to all the time,” pointed out Eleanor, “but wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. But she loved you at once. That’s the Stewart way. Bob and Marilyn
loved each other from first-grade days. Chad and I fell in love at first sight. When the Stewarts love, it’s for all time, and don’t you forget it. I wish you long years of happiness, Dick. Connie will make a wonderful minister’s wife.”

“I never thought of that,” said Dick in surprise. “I just thought how much I loved her.”

“How are things going at Bethel?” asked Eleanor, changing the subject.

“Oh, so-so. They have made some improvements on the campus during the summer. There are some dandy new tennis courts.”

“What about the vice-presidency?”

Dick looked more serious. “I saw Billy the other day, and she said Dr. King had been appointed vice president, to be in active charge of Bethel under Dr. Hale’s instruction. It’s what a lot of folks have been expecting. He is no doubt in training for the presidency.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Eleanor. “I wouldn’t say that in public, and now that it has happened we must pray that it will work out for Bethel’s good—and for Dr. King’s good too.”

“I will say this for him,” continued Dick. “He has seemed different this summer, very quiet when on the campus. Bill Wilson says he has been living at the institute part of the time.”

Eleanor’s face lighted. “Perhaps Lorraine’s death has done for him the thing I have longed for—taken him out of himself and aroused him to really unselfish service. The thing that always troubled me about him was his unbounded egotism. He never seemed to forget self for one minute.”

“That’s the way I felt,” returned Dick. “In every
speech and action he seemed to be concentrating on himself—on the impression he would make. Even his prayers seem to be arguments designed to convince God that Philip King’s plans for the work were superior to any that He Himself might have!”

“Oh, Dick!” reproved Eleanor.

“Don’t you feel that way?” he defended himself.

“Well, yes, a little,” she admitted, laughing. “But I wonder why he is so willful. He is just the antithesis of Dr. Cortland, who lives so close to Christ that his own personality seems completely submerged. When he talks, it is not himself who is lifted up—it is Jesus Christ. And his classrooms become in very truth ‘holy ground.’”

“Wouldn’t it be fine if Dr. Cortland could be president?” asked Dick wistfully. “I’d like to see him run an institution. It would be like George Mueller’s orphanage.”

“It surely would be a monument of faith,” agreed Eleanor. “It could be done. Dr. Cortland believes that we should, in all the affairs of life, seek first God’s kingdom and His righteousness and leave with Him the care of all our personal needs. He has lived that way for forty years. I’d like to see Bethel run that way too.”

“So would I. But Philip King is the one who will probably rule over Bethel’s destiny and shape its future course.”

“If we have sincerely prayed, Dick,” said Eleanor, making room on the swing for Connie, who was just coming out the front door, “we do wrong to worry. God took my life and reshaped it, and He can work out His plan even through Philip King. Let’s pray—not doubt!”

* * *

With two fascinating subjects to work on, namely baby Patty and little Chad, Eleanor found her interest in photography reviving. Uncle John fitted up a room in the basement where she could work, and she soon found her old skill returning. Pictures of the babies brought exclamations of pleasure from all who saw them, and Eleanor was persuaded to submit some of them to a children’s magazine for illustrations. To her surprise and joy, they were enthusiastically received, and she soon had orders for as many as she could send.

In going about the farm and the woods, Eleanor found many interesting subjects to add to her collection of slides, and when Connie and Dick came home at Christmas time, she delighted a group of young people at the church one evening by showing many of her beautiful slides and giving an extemporaneous talk about God’s works as seen through the microscope. Her only thought was to contribute to the evening’s enjoyment and to give these country young people a glimpse into a fascinating world with which they might not be acquainted. But the results were far-reaching. In late January Eleanor received a letter from Philip King, to whom Dick had one day described the lecture and slides. Dr. King had conceived the idea of having Eleanor present a series of lectures at Bethel, using the same topic she had used before.

Eleanor was astounded at the offer and was somewhat inclined to refuse it. Mother, however, urged its acceptance. Eleanor could well be spared from the work just now—Little Chad would be cared for by herself—and, most important of all, this might be God’s call to wider service.

Eleanor knelt down by her bedside and prayed over the problem, then rose from her knees feeling that God was indeed calling her to Bethel. So the letter of acceptance was written.

In preparing the lectures, Eleanor was brought back into the world of science that she had left three years before, and, though at times painful memories sprang up, she really enjoyed the study and preparation. Never before had she approached any study with the object of glorifying God through it all, and she soon found herself absorbed and thrilled with the magnitude and beauty of God’s works.

* * *

In March she left for the city, promising to bring Chad the most wonderful toy fire engine to be found in the shops when she returned.

“And will you be a good boy while Mother is gone?” she asked almost tearfully.

“Yes, I will be good, Mother.” Then he added for emphasis, “I truly will, Miss Honor.” So Eleanor kissed him and was gone.

It was pleasant to meet old friends at Bethel. Eleanor had some talks with Dr. Cortland that inspired her with new courage. She visited the institute with Billy and rejoiced over the improvements there. Billy’s father was growing much interested in the institute work, and Billy was planning a campaign of her own to get her father and some of his wealthy friends to endow the institute so that it could afford to hire a full-time resident pastor. Dr. King was still preaching on Sundays but had little time for weekday work there.

Yet with all the joy of being back at her old school, Eleanor had an uneasy feeling that all was not well there. The spiritual life of the school seemed to have lost some of its depth and fervor. Dr. Cortland’s facial expression was sad, and many of the students seemed to feel dissatisfied with a vague something in the atmosphere. Yet no one could lay a finger exactly on the trouble.

Outwardly the school seemed to be progressing. There was talk of a building campaign to provide a new library and science hall. Everywhere was an air of brisk activity.

Eleanor saw Dr. King every day, but he was always busy. If his sorrow had had any deep effect on him it was not discernible. He looked as calmly self-sufficient as ever, and the only change in his appearance was an added amount of gray in the wavy brown hair. The one white lock was not nearly so conspicuous as before.

Dr. King listened to the lectures with interest, and, when they were over and Eleanor was ready to leave for the farm, he insisted on driving her to the station in his car.

“The train is late, I see,” he remarked as they
scanned the bulletin board. “That isn’t surprising—and it will give me time to ask you something important.”

“What is it?” asked Eleanor wonderingly.

“Would you consider a position on the lecturing staff at Bethel?”

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed without a moment’s hesitation. Then, seeing his surprise, she went on. “I do thank you for the offer, and I never dreamed of anything so big coming to me. But I don’t wish to leave my little son in order to come back to school and live. He needs his mother—and she needs him.”

“Certainly,” Dr. King agreed without conviction. “Well, I hardly hoped you would accept, but you can always remember that you once had such an offer. And someday Bethel is going to be a famous school where teaching will be an honor.”

“As long as it stays a spiritual school, that is all I will ask,” replied Eleanor soberly.

“Well, of course, it will do that too. But you just watch and see our progress. Then when we are famous, think back that you might have been on the faculty—and perhaps it will help erase your shame at not knowing Jezebel from Beelzebub.”

Then they both laughed, and, when the train pulled into the station, they parted with a friendly handclasp.

As Eleanor settled herself in the seat for the long ride, she thought,
He’s still Lorraine’s shining knight posing on his charger. How I’d like to shake him off it someday!

Then her thoughts leaped ahead to the farm where a little boy waited for the wonderful red fire engine that was even now reposing in her suitcase.

O
nce more it was spring in the country. New life was everywhere—in the woods, where the flowers pushed the damp leaves aside; in the barn lot, where new calves walked slowly about on wobbly legs; in the brooder house, where peeping little balls of yellow fluff brought delighted squeals from the children. Up in the sunny south room of the sanitarium, the little son of Marilyn and Bob lay in his basket and voiced a lusty opinion of the world into which he had just been ushered.

Summer came with haying and gardening, and canning of fruits and vegetables—sunny days bringing work for them all, and occasional showers to remind them of God’s provision and their need for both sunshine and rain.

Summer slid into autumn, and Connie returned to Bethel while Mother and Eleanor carried on at home. As the days went by, Mary Lou changed from the rolypoly
child Eleanor had first known to a demure girl with a slow smile and eyes that looked out on the world with serious sweetness. Little Chad grew tall and brown and more like the other Chad every day.

Through a long, snowy winter Eleanor helped Mother in the little hospital, sewed with Marilyn, romped in the bracing air with Patty and Chad, cooked and baked in the big old kitchen, or spent long hours in study or prayer. The kind of happiness she had once dreamed of as Chad’s wife would never be hers, but she had found a better and more lasting happiness—the joy of a surrendered life and will.

Then March came again, and she was at Bethel for another series of lectures. She found many changes in her beloved college. Dr. Hale had passed away in January. Although the new president had not been named, the general opinion was that Philip King would succeed to the position. Eleanor’s hope for a change in Dr. King’s attitude had not been realized. His self-confidence was apparently unbounded. He was full of plans for Bethel’s advancement and sure of his own ability to lead the school into hitherto undreamed-of achievement. In the chapel hours, which had always been a source of strength and inspiration to Eleanor, there was a restless bustle of activities that seemed far removed from the former air of quiet worship. There was much talk of spring sports, and interest in the coming interscholastic meets was high. Bethel had always had a balanced program of work and play. But this year, as she watched and listened, Eleanor wondered if there might not be much confusion in the students’ minds regarding the relative importance of these things.

One evening Dr. King took Eleanor to a symphony concert. During the course of the evening, he described his plans with enthusiasm. The first thing to do, of course, was to raise money for new buildings, and for this purpose he planned to contact Angela’s father and his friends.

“All these improvements could have been made long ago, given the proper cooperation,” he said. “But there have been obstructionists on the board of trustees and in the faculty. Now I am overcoming that opposition, and I think I can see the way clear. Bethel College, my dear Mrs. Stewart, is going to awaken out of her hundred-year slumber and begin to take her rightful place in the educational world.”