The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1918-04-01
EVENING STORY
The Rector's Vacation.
BY MABEL ]. BOURQUIr


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.
Il hope you understand why we
make this proposition, Mr.. Nelson.
You have served the church here
very acceptably, and we certainly ap-
preciate the fact that you have de-
clined, 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,
you have taken the money you would
have spent thus to provide outings for
poor mothers. There is not a person
in the parish who is not your sworn
friend, and who is not better for your
being here.
Il 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 ser
mons. They lack courage and seem
to come from a heart that is over
burdened. If you are in trouble of
any kind we shall deem it priv
ilege to help you, if we can. 1 hope
you do not consider US officious, Mr..
Nelson"
ION the contrary, Mr.. Grayson, 1 am
deeply grateful for your sympathy. but
have no trouble that anyone can
help"
Then we shall have to conclude
that you are worn out and sadly in
Of n haX tn
you with the proposal that you take
leave of absence for three months.
This is hardly the time of year to pro-
pose such 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 mans shoulder. his voice
broke and the rector's eyes filled with
tears. Finally, the minister broke
offer. and while ] do not feel that
need a vacation your friendship means
too much to me to disregard your adj
vice and such an unselfish request.
1 hope to be able to serve you better
when I return. / do not know where
shall go, but will inform you as soon
as I can decide 1 shall probably
start in 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
girls face. No wonder his sermons
had suffered. He wondered that with
his days and nights of torture he had
been able to attend to his parish du-
ties at all A vacation seemed a mock
cry. 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
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 out 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
ing to a refusal from the lips of girl
who was no less agitated than he.
Two months before. Muriel Waring
had come with her mother from the
with 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
n ink nf
try 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 COM
mon. and the young rector realized
the strength she could be to him in
his chosen work.
And tomorrow she was going home.
and this was their last day together.
While the boat drifted softly down the
stream, he laid his heart at her feet.
To his dying day he never saw the set
ting sun without remembering how it
shone on her face as she answered
him.
Mr.. Nelson, had L dreamed that
you would take such a step as this, 1
would not have permitted matters to
go so far. 1 am to blame for this ter
mination of your friendship, which has
meant more to me than l can tell you.
There is no other man living whom 1
respect more nor to whom l would
sooner trust my life. But 1 am not
free"
Then you love some one else in
stead? 1 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 our means. But mother
has been very ambitious for me She
sent me to expensive schools, and
spert large sums of money to estab-
lish me in society. She is hopelessly
in debt. We are spending the sum-
mer in this little town because she
dared not borrow the money to go
to some fashionable resort, as she has
always done. Do not look at me like
that, Mr.. Nelson I did not know the
L IL Ii e..