Part 48 (1/2)

”No, I am quite right, and besides, there's Ike. I ought to look after Ike.”

”Don't you worry about Ike,” said the Convener. ”He's able to look after himself; besides I'll look him up when I get you to sleep. Come now,” and he led him into the tiny bedroom. ”You get into bed; I'll bring you a cup of tea and you can sleep. No one will disturb you, and, I'll wake you at the right time, never fear.”

”I don't think I am sleepy,” said Shock; but when in a few minutes his friend came back with his cup of tea he found Shock in a sleep so profound that he had not the heart to wake him. ”Poor chap, poor chap!”

said the Convener, looking down upon the strong, rugged face, now so haggard. ”This is a hard country!”

For hours Shock lay dead in sleep. Before nightfall the Convener went to look up Ike, and on his return found his guest still asleep. ”Let him sleep, it will do him good,” he said to his kind-hearted wife, who would have wakened Shock to have supper.

”We'll let him sleep till an answer comes to his wire.” Late at night he went down to the telegraph office.

”Yes,” replied the clerk in answer to his enquiry, ”there's a wire for Mr. Macgregor just come in. Bad news, too, I guess.”

The Convener took the message and read: ”Your mother pa.s.sed away in perfect peace this evening. Your message brought her great joy. She wished me to send this reply: 'The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. Stay at your post, lad, till He calls:' HELEN.”

”'Stay at your post till He calls,'” read the Convener again. ”A great soul that. That word will do him good.”

He was right. He found Shock waiting for him, calm, expectant, and ready to bear whatever life might bring, nor did his face change as he read the wire over and over again. He only said: ”G.o.d is very good to us. She went away in peace, and she got my wire and I hers.”

”Yes,” said the Convener, ”G.o.d is always good. We sometimes cannot see it, but,” he added, ”it was a great matter that your sister could have been there with her.”

”My sister?” said Shock. ”Oh!” a sudden flush reddening his pale cheek.

”She's not my sister--she's my--she's our friend, yes, a dear friend.

It would be a great joy to my mother to have her.”

There was no sign of grief in his face, but a great peace seemed to have settled upon him. Long into the night he talked over the affairs of his mission field, giving in response to the keen questions of his Convener a full account of the work he had been carrying on, opening up the plans he had made for future work. In particular was he anxious to enlist the Convener's sympathy in his scheme for a reading-room and hospital at the Pa.s.s. The Convener shook his head at the plan. ”I agree with you entirely,” he said, ”but the Committee, I fear, will not give you a grant for a hospital. If it were a church now--”

”Well,” argued Shock, ”it will serve for a church.”

”You may count on me to do my best for you,” replied the Convener, ”but I am not sanguine. The Committee are extremely cautious and conservative.”

But when the Convener came to ask about the difficulties and trials of his life his missionary became silent. There were no trials and difficulties to speak of, no more at least than the rest of the people had to bear. They were all good to him.

”That's all right,” said the Convener, ”but there are difficulties, none the less. It is a hard country, and sometimes it lays burdens upon us almost greater than we can bear. There are the poor McIntyres, now,”

he continued. ”How did you find them?”

”Very well,” replied Shock. ”But, indeed, I didn't notice much.”

And then the Convener told him of the story of their great grief.

”It is a common enough story in this country. The little baby was five months old, singularly bright and attractive. McIntyre himself was quite foolish about it; and, indeed, the whole congregation were quite worked up over it. Took suddenly ill, some mysterious trouble; no doctor within forty miles; before he arrived the baby was gone. They were dreadfully cut up about it.”

”I--I never noticed,” said Shock, with a sense of shame. ”I wasn't thinking.”

There was no demonstration of sympathy on the part of his people when Shock returned to his work. One by one they came up after the evening service to shake hands with him and then to leave him alone. But that night, when all had gone except Ike, who was hovering about downstairs within call of Shock,--who, was sitting upstairs alone in the room which, in the fulness of his joy, he had set apart for his mother,--a voice was heard asking cautiously:

”Is he in?”