CROSSING THE RUBICON.
The path seemed perfectly clear to Dorothy, and she announced to her parents that she must join the Baptist church. The decision was a blow to them. It is true that the discussions of the past two weeks and the remarks dropped by Dorothy had indicated that she was moving towards that point and yet neither of the parents had believed that she would actually take the step. The father had been greatly surprised at the facts that had been brought out in favor of the Baptists, but when the thought of Dorothy identifying herself with the little Baptist band in the town came into his mind his prejudice assumed control and he became rebellious. To him and his wife the announcement of their daughter put a blighting disappointment on their ambitions regarding her future. They had rejoiced in her growing popularity in the best social circles of the town. Besides, they were not entirely unaware of the admiration of the young Presbyterian millionaire for Dorothy and a union with that influential family was a prospect not unpleasant to them. That their daughter should cut herself off from social opportunities and tie herself up with an obscure people that held meetings in one of the cheaper parts of the town—that was to them almost worse than her funeral. They said nothing to her when she announced her decision. She understood what it would probably mean for her, but her convictions pressed her forward. In fact, she felt an eagerness to see and get acquainted with the little Baptist band, for she felt sure that, while that particular church might for some reason be obscure and ignorant, yet they came of royal lineage with an illustrious record behind them and she was glad to link herself with such a people. The parents did not forbid her joining the Baptists, but their silence, their lack of sympathy and their manifest disappointment and grief over it made her burden far heavier than if they had openly opposed it. She felt that she could have braced herself against such opposition and thereby showed her love for Christ above her love for her parents, but their suffering multiplied her own.
A pall of gloom seemed to have settled over the thought of their daughter picking her way along the narrow streets around to the cheap section of the town and down the rough steps from the sidewalk and into the plain chapel to mingle with the even plainer people was a humiliation that seemed crushing, and they were speechless. This was an experience that Dorothy had never counted on. Her joy in finding what seemed to her the truth, and in following it had not knew what church she expected to attend. The home on that Sunday morning when Dorothy came down to the library dressed for church. The parents prepared her for this cross that rose up in her path. At first she was inclined to resent such lack of sympathy from her parents; but the sight of their disappointed faces put a lock on her lips and a load on her heart. She wavered not, however, in her sense of duty. On to the little Baptist church she wended her way, and it was a sensation indeed for the members when the door of the little chapel opened and in walked the beautiful daughter of the rich and honored, though worldly, Mr. Page. Her entrance was not met by intrusive and impertinent glances. The worshipers were stunned by her arrival, for they had no idea what it meant. But they were too well trained in worship to be ill-mannered in their wonderment. The simplicity of their worship went to her heart and she found herself entering into the spirit of the hymns, although she was not familiar with many of them. In fact, the entire service gave her much joy.
At the close of the service Mr. Walton walked down to Dorothy, gave her a hearty welcome and proceeded to introduce her to some of his members. How genuine seemed their welcome! The thought that their faith was her faith made her feel at home. It is true that the plain room and the exceedingly plain attire of nearly all the people presented an almost shocking contrast to what she was accustomed to. It made her wince under it, but her better thoughts soon got the mastery. Her sense of duty held her firm and gave her a peace and even a joy in what she was doing.
She told the pastor she had come to ask for baptism and membership in his church. He was not greatly surprised, though much delighted. He stated that he would be glad at the conclusion of the night service to receive her for baptism.
That evening, when she started down the steps of her house to go to church, she found the automobile at the curb at the front of the house and the chauffeur told her that her father had told him to have the machine ready to take her to the church, that he did not wish her to walk around to that section alone. She was touched at the thoughtfulness of her father, and yet the silence of it all cut her to the heart. She felt that she was almost an outcast from her parents; but then she judged that they could not understand her and that they were simply keeping aloof with their disappointment. The meals had been eaten in almost perfect silence that day. The mother did not care for dinner and the father ate and talked but little, and then to the other members of the family.
That night Dorothy was received for baptism and it was announced that, on the following Sunday night she would be baptized. By the next Sunday her parents began to relent. At first they were inclined to be indignant with the Baptist preacher, as if he were largely responsible for their daughter's action; but as they recalled the discussions of the past month they realized that their daughter had reached her conclusions largely through her own study of the Bible.
Gradually they came to see that she must have her convictions and they ought not to interfere with her religion. They saw that she was firm, and they decided to accept the inevitable. Husband and wife talked it over and the husband said: "Wife, I think it is a clear proposition. Dorothy has taken the step and the die is cast. It is not according to our fancy or hope, but it is according to her convictions, and I guess we would rather she should be a woman of convictions than for her to be one with no convictions, but tossed about by every kind of influence. I think we must try to make the most of it. Opposition, I fear, would only make matters worse for her and for us. Let us tell her we shall not oppose her."
And so it was agreed, and that evening Mr. and Mrs. Page talked frankly with Dorothy and the burden rolled from her heart. The parents said they never could attend that church, but that they would not stand in her way.
How her heart yearned to have them present at her baptism, but she dared not ask them, and she knew they would not come! Two of her girl friends went with her, partly out of curiosity and partly out of devotion to Dorothy. Mr. Page told the chauffeur to take Dorothy and her friends to the church first and then to return and take him and his wife for a ride.