“WHY not now?” It was no difficult task for Helen G — to find an answer to that question, as she leaned back in her chair and gazed at the pretty ball dress, laid out in readiness for that evening’s wear — a masterpiece of dressmaker’s skill, a charming design, and calculated in every way to set off the wearer to the best possible advantage. But the expression on Helen’s face was far from being one of happiness; the thought that the long-anticipated enjoyment was at hand at last could, just at that moment, afford her no satisfaction, and even the consciousness that few, if any, of her fair rivals would receive nearly so much homage and admiration as herself, could not drive away the shadow from her brow.
Why not now? Why not now? Oh how those three tiresome words would keep ringing in her ears! Why could she not put them from her — forget them until tomorrow at all events; and then, the ball over, the triumph won, she might feel more inclined to turn her attention seriously to the matter which had been so strangely and unexpectedly thrust upon it?
“I wish I had never gone to hear that stupid man!” she muttered. “If I could only have had an idea how miserable he would make me, I am sure I never would; but how silly it is of me to mind or care I — but yet I know he is right.”
“Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation,” was the text from which an unknown itinerant evangelist had addressed a few dozen people in the village the evening before, and Helen G — had been one of his audience. There was nothing remarkable in the preacher — a plain-spoken man; no eloquence or gift of oratory beyond the intense earnestness with which he entreated all present to listen to the solemn message which God had sent him to deliver. But the truth and power of each word pierced like an arrow into the heart of the gay, thoughtless young girl. The memory of his simple appeals haunted her through the hours of a sleepless night; when morning came, the impression grew stronger instead of weaker, and heart and conscience alike urged her to close without delay with the offer, — to yield herself unreservedly to the Saviour, whose blood had been shed for her.
“If you want peace, if you want happiness, if you want pardon, come to Christ now — Now, while He is calling you, drawing you with the cords of His love. Oh, how can you remain cold and indifferent, and turn away from such a loving offer? Why will you not let Him save you NOW?”
Such was the burden of his pleadings; and the eyes of more than one in that room filled with tears, and more than one heart responded, “Yes, Lord; I will come — and come now;” while others hardened themselves and stifled the voice of conscience.
“If it only had not been just before the ball!” thought Helen, as with hasty, impatient steps she began to walk to and fro in her room. “If he had only not come here until after tomorrow. If he had only not talked quite so much about Now, as if any other time would not do just as well. There is to be a meeting again tonight — I wish I could go to it — no, I don’t. I shall never go to a place of the kind again. I will go to the ball, and to as many more balls as I am asked to. I go to church on Sundays; I say my prayers night and morning, always — nearly always. That is religion enough for other people, why should I want to be better than everyone else? There is nothing wrong in enjoying life, and enjoy it I will. There I am not going to think about it any longer; I have given myself quite a headache as it is.”
She took a book from the table, and sitting down, resolutely found the place where she had last left off. But somehow the words would not form themselves into connected sentences; try as she would, she could not create any interest in the tale with which only the day before she had been so delighted. After many unsuccessful efforts she closed it with a weary sigh, and bowing her head on her clasped hands, she suffered her thoughts to flow back into their former channel. For a long time she did not move, but her quick, hard breathing showed that no ordinary conflict was being fought out; and when at last she raised her head, her cheeks were more flushed, and the light in her eyes more troubled than ever.
“I would far rather go to the meeting than to Lady M—’s,” she said half aloud. “But Alex G — is to be there, and I have promised to keep several dances for him. What would he think of me, if I were to give up a ball for a meeting? He does not believe that there is even a God at all. Other people might laugh at me as much as they pleased, but I know what a look of contempt would come into his face if he found out where I had gone instead. I could not, oh, I could not bear it.”
She was by far the prettiest girl in the ball-room — no one could deny that. She was besieged with would-be partners for each dance, and many were the words of flattery and low-spoken admiration breathed into her ears. Nothing seemed necessary to complete her enjoyment, and could anyone suppose that her laughter was hollow, her smiles forced, and that her heart was full — almost bursting?
It was to meet Alex G — that she had come to the ball, and there was no sign of Alex there. For the first hour or two she had furtively watched each new arrival, hoping to see the man whom she loved, and who, she was almost convinced, loved her. But all in vain; he did not come. The night was wearing away, far too slowly for her now, and she was longing wearily for the time when she could escape from the noise and glare and heat, which was becoming unbearable; so much so, that she began to fear she could not possibly keep up the empty show of gaiety until all was over.
“No, indeed, I was not. Do you suppose for one moment I would be seen at such a place?” It was the hostess who spoke, and Helen, catching the words, and guessing at once to what she alluded, drew near to listen. “My maid went,” continued Lady M —; “and she talked in such an absurd way to me this morning, that I was obliged to remind her I had hired her to wait on me, and not to preach. Then she stupidly began to cry; it was most disagreeable!”
“What an interesting scene!” exclaimed one of the bystanders. “Do please tell us what she said, Lady M —.”
“I did not give her time to say much; but I believe she intended to favor me with an entire rehearsal of his sermon.”
“Bad grammar and all?” inquired a young man who had just joined the group. “I really think his admirers ought to get up a subscription, and present him with ‘The Art of Correct Speaking.’”
“You have heard him then, Mr. P —?” asked Lady M —.
“I have had that infliction. Would you like me to follow your maid’s example? Listen, friends!” And with an exaggerated, but ludicrously good imitation of the preacher’s voice, accent, and gestures, he commenced to recite part of his address, almost word for word.
Most of his hearers were convulsed with laughter.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself! he cannot surely be so bad as that!” exclaimed Lady M —; but none the less did she appear amused.
“Now, Miss G —, I saw you on the very front row of seats, listening with rapt attention, I appeal to you to say whether I do him more than justice,” said Mr. P — , turning to Helen. She flushed crimson, scarcely knowing how to answer.
“Miss G — there!” exclaimed more than one voice in tones of well-bred surprise; many eyes were turned towards her, and looking quickly up, she saw for the first time that Alex G — was standing near, and imagined he was watching her with that hard cynical smile, which she knew so well, and dreaded so intensely.
“I await your judgment, fair lady,” said Mr. P —, with affected solemnity. “Or perhaps I have touched a tender chord. If so, I humbly beg pardon, and hope I may have the Honor of congratulating this new star on the religious horizon on the conquest he has made.”
“He has made no conquest that I know of,” cried the girl hotly, “unless, indeed, it be of you. You seem to take far more interest in him than I do, at all events.”
“Oh, but young ladies are so impressible! Confess now, that he made you feel it would be a very naughty thing indeed to come to a ball, and that dancing was a dreadful sin.”
“I am not impressible; and if he, or anyone else, had made me feel that dancing was wrong, do you suppose I would be here?”
“Certainly not, but—”
“Oh! do not let us hear about him, if you please, Mr. P—. You seem to forget we all have not your appreciation of vulgarity.”
“Hush! my dear; that will do,” said Lady M—gently. “Of course, everyone knows you have far too much sense to be carried away by such absurd, fanatical ideas, and you should not let Mr. P— ‘s teasing annoy you so; he only means it in fun. But tell me, how did it happen that you went to hear that dreadful, uneducated man?”
“I was spending the day with Mrs. L—. She brought me—I could not help it. She would take no refusal.”
“Very wrong indeed of Mrs. L—. You must never let yourself be persuaded into going into a place of the kind again.”
“There is no danger, I assure you. I have had quite enough of meetings for the rest of my life!” cried Helen with an hysterical laugh.
“Certainly, quite enough, if you only go to mock.”
In blank amazement they all turned to gaze at Alex G—, hardly able to believe it was he who spoke. Calmly and unflinchingly he looked from one to the other; his face pale, his voice strong, as he continued, addressing the hostess: “It was to apologize to you for my absence, that I came here for a few minutes, Lady M—. I was at the meeting you have been discussing, and I liked it so much that I went again tonight. I never made any secret of being little better than an infidel. Thank God! I am so no longer; and I am not ashamed to acknowledge that of all the preachers I have heard, the only one who ever made the slightest impression on me is this one, who does not always speak correctly; and to ‘that dreadful, uneducated man,’ as you term him, I shall have reason to be grateful to my dying hour.”
He turned and walked quietly away; but in passing Helen G—, he paused for a moment.
“Would that you had been where I was, instead of here!” he said in a voice meant for her ears alone. “When I saw you last evening, I hoped—I hoped that we might have helped each other on the right way. Good-bye, Helen.” He went out into the dark cold night. The band struck up for the last dance, and with set cold face, and a heart like lead, Helen G—moved in and out among the dancers.
Years have come and gone. The snows of age have gathered on the heads of many who were young on that memorable night, but by far the greater number have passed away. The incident was nearly forgotten; but there is one who remembers it still, and ever will—an aged Christian, who, having devoted more than half a century of her life to the Master’s work, is quietly awaiting the summons into His presence.
Let us listen to her for a few minutes, as she speaks in kind, but grave tones to one who has come to her for help and counsel.
“My child,” she says, “I was once in much the same strait that you are in now, many, many years before you were born. God called me, as He is calling you, and earthly love held me back. ‘Come to Me now,’ His voice said, and I answered, No; I must secure the earthly love first, then I will give myself up to the heavenly.’ And by doing Be, I lost the one, and well-nigh lost the other too. The call came to him in the same way that it came to me. He heard and obeyed; but I not suspecting this, and fearing his ridicule, spoke so lightly and scoffingly of the gospel message, that he thought it his duty to give me up. It might have been otherwise by accepting and confessing the truth, but my pride would not let me. I thought to drown conscience in a ceaseless round of pleasure and gaiety. It was of no use; at last I was forced to yield. I gave up the rest of a life, to me scarcely worth living, and came to Him. He who had bought me with His own blood, and whom I had so basely denied, received me as I was, and oh, the happiness with which He has filled my heart ever since!”
“And the one of whom you were speaking—what became of him?” asked her companion.
“He found another bride, different from the worldly, frivolous girl he once loved, — a fitting help-meet for him, and they have labored together for the Lord. My child, when God says ‘Come,’ come at once.”
“But if you still His call refuse,
And dare such wondrous love abuse,
Soon will He sadly from you turn,
Your bitter prayer for pardon spurn.
‘Too late! too late!’ will be the cry —
‘Jesus of Nazareth has passed by.’”
ANON.