Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-09-06
XVII.
An Earthly Paradise,

XVII.
An Earthly Paradise.
1t was not until the first SHOWS lay
white on the summit of Aran Cawddy
that Father Francis was we'll enough to
resume his work. and even then the doc
tors forbade the physical strain of
preaching.
In the early days of his convalescence
he had quiet but memorable interview
with Mr.. Lampirthy. and learnt that his
identity was known to at least two peo-
pie in England. The millionaire, who
showed more kindness and sympathy
than might have been expected from his
hard nature. assured the preacher that
the discovery was not likely to be made
public property. He also stated that his
own attitude in the matter was I'M
changed. and that he realized the high
motives which had prompted Sir Rich
ards desire for concealment.
All this was very pleasant to the sick
man. and he unburdened his mind to MI
Lampirthy. He told the story of his lfte
and spared no detail that would empha-
size the vileness of his youth. Then he
spoke Of the days in the desert Of his
repentance of the birth of the ideas
which formed the nucleus Of his creed,
of his resolution to make amends for the
past.
His words. although they lacked the
vigor and 1ucidity of a healthy man,
were earnest and convincing. Mr.. Lam
pirthy left the room with a very high
opinion of the sinner, who had struggled
out of darkness into light, and who had
refused to make capital out of a CONVEX
sion that might have gained him many
thousands of converts. Here was a
preacher who was too proud. too conf
dent of the justice of his cause, to en-
theatrical affaaf
Gaunt. the converted rake. he would have
appealed to the vast horde of those who
find in such sudden and violent changes
the direct and miraculous influence OF
God. The mere story of the wreck of
the Santigan, and of the life in the desert
would have made a deep impression on
the hearts Of the lower classes. But
Father Francis had scorned to parade his
sins and his virtues as an example to
the world. He had relied on the truth
of his cause. He did not claim to be
anything more than an instrument in the
hands of God. He had been content to
speak of greater things than his own life
He had even sacrificed his heritage in
order to efface his private affairs from
the great work that called for something
more than self-advertisement.
Mr.. Lampfrthy returned from the inter-
view with the knowledge that the man
who had cost him so many millions of
pounds was at least worthy of the ex-
penditure, and that all this wealth had
not been lavished on a mere charlatan.
But in spite of this, the millionaire was
filled with grave doubts about the sue
cess of the crusade. He was a man Of
business ard accustomed to look at things
from business point Of view. The work
which he had supported with such extra
ordinary generosity required worker OF
great physical strength and keen intellect.
And it was clear that the severe illness
from which Father Francis had only
emerged with his life had weakened not
only his body, but his brain.
This much was evident to the ordinary
observer. but an interview with Sir David
Llewellyn revealed a much more serious
state of affairs.
your brain requires rest" the great
doctor said to his patient. IF you put
any undue strain upon 1t you may have
to end your days in lunatic asylum.
Father Francis received the verdict
without finching. He knew that both
could be no turning back. no placing OF
his body and brain were required for the
service of his Master and that there
self before the call of duty. The soldier
does not flee from death; he must fight
and take his chance of the consequences.
And If the end were to be that mental
death which is the most terrible of all to
contemplate. we'll, that was the will Of
God.
In spite of all Mr.. Lampirthy's advice.
and all the terrible warnings of Sir David
Llewellyn, the invalid set to work as
soon as he was strong enough to inter-
view his followers and set pen to paper.
His illness. coming as it did in the height
of his power and popularity. was an
event Of public importance. Some of the
newspapers had issued daily bulletins
about his health; and his work. carried
on in his absence by the band OF preach
ers whom he had inspired with his own
religious fervor, had received its usual
tribute of praise. All through England
men and women had prayed that Father
Francis might be spared to them for
many years of earnest labor.
A month passed by. The land was now
in the grip of winter. and the snow had
crept down from the summit of the hills
to the valleys beneath. All the scenery
was cold and ugly-a white expanse
SCARED with black precipices and
bounded by an iron-gray sea.
Father Francis, whose recovery to
health and strength depended on fresh
air and exercise was still confined to the
house. The sky overhead was dull and
laden with snow, and a bitter nor Wester
swept the coast like a scythe. cutting
down the sick and feeble in its path.
Under the sting Of the blast the preach
ers were driven into barns and public
halls and it required all the glowing
fervor of their enthusiasm to warm their
audiences into life.
One evening, toward the end of Novem-
her, the great preacher sat before roar
ing fire in his room at the White Lion.
His shoulders were covered with a rug
and he crouched close to the blazing coal
table by his side was Uttered with
papers and letters. Most of his work had
been taken off his hands by his three
principal disciples, but there was much
which required his personal attention.
His hands. however, were folded quietly
together and he was dreaming of the flu
ture He was strangely disturbed by the
violence of the weather, which was re-
tardng his recovery to health. His mind
was full of burning thoughts Wffeh-eeAld
find no outlet in words. He had hftsgfs<to
say to the world. but he could not say it
till he was strong enough to preach.
And as he sat there and watched the
flames dance up the chimney he was
seized with a sudden dread of, The future.
Was it possible that he would peYer, again
be strong enough to endure the hardships
which he had made light of, before his
illness? He knew we'll enough that his
cesses of his youth He could not forget
the words of Sir David LleweIlyn!. h Sil'e
Daily and hourly he had prayed that he
might be permitted to accomplish. his
task He only asked for few. years Of
health and vigor. He only asked Tor a
little strength. just enough to turn the
thoughts Of men from their pursuit of
wealth to the contemplation of the here
after. - ~ .
His thoughts were interrupted by a
knock at the door, and the only ma fdser-
want OF the inn entered the room. She
was small. red-faced and ugly. and was
always speeches. with fear when any
GRAND took her into the presence of the
preacher She held out a card bet weeh
two dirty. thick and trembling fingers -