Robert Black dropped upon his knees once more before the old red-cushioned chair, but not, now, with will rebellious against a too hard fate, a too rigorous necessity. The old loyalty, at sight of the picture which in past days of happy faith had meant so much to him, had sprung into life again as a flame, quenched but not put out, springs as the wind fans it. A sob came into his dry throat, his head went down upon his folded arms. His body relaxed; after a minute he no longer knelt, he had sunk upon the floor with his face pillowed against the red cushion in the chair-seat.
“O my Christ!” he said slowly aloud, “I give up. I couldn’t do it for God—but I can for You! It was You I promised—I’ll keep it—till the end! If I go to war, I’ll go to carry—Your Cross! And if You’ll let me, I’ll carry it to the very front!”
Mrs. Hodder found him in the morning—though it was morning indeed when the fight was over. He had been asleep but an hour, there on the floor by the old red rocker, when she came briskly in to open the windows and give the manse study its usual early dusting and setting to rights. At sight of the desk light still burning dully in the pale daylight she looked astonished, and a moment later, as she espied the figure on the floor by the chair, she started, frightened. Trembling she called the minister’s name, stooping over him; but seeing at once the warm colour in his cheek, drew back with an agitated breath of relief.
“My land!” she murmured, “if the poor dear man ain’t so beat out he’s went to sleep right here on the floor. I always did know he’d kill himself if he kept rushin’ around so, tryin’ to be all things to all men—and all women. Seems like they couldn’t think of enough things to ask him to do for ’em, besides all the things he thinks of himself. That bad news he got, too—likely that was what used him up.”
“Yes,” answered a very sleepy voice, when she had shaken the recumbent shoulder a little and called his name once or twice, “all right. Breakfast ready?”
“Not yet—but ’twill be, in a jiffy. Goodness me, Mr. Black, you certainly did give me a start! You must have been tired to death, to sleep all night on the floor, so.”
Black got stiffly to his feet. “I’m all right. Listen—what’s that?”
It was an early morning newsboy on the street outside, stridently calling: “Extry—extry!——” What followed was not distinguishable. Black, overcoming his stiffness of limb in a hurry, got to the outer door, whistled loudly, and secured a paper. When he came back all appearance of sleep or weariness had fled from him.
“We’re in, Mrs. Hodder, we’re in!” he was half shouting, and his tone thrilled his middle-aged housekeeper. Long afterward she was accustomed to say, when she told the story: “I knew from that minute where he’d be. We’d ought all have known it from the beginning, but I was so dumb I never sensed it till that morning when he come back with the paper, callin’ out so solemn—and yet so happy-like—‘We’re in, Mrs. Hodder, we’re in!’ says he. I guess he was in! That was a Saturday. And Sunday—he gave us the sign! My, but I’ll never forget that!”
The sign! Yes, that was what Black did give. All day Saturday he was making possible the thing he had long before determined he would do when the hour came. From mill to shop he went, with orders and measurements; late on Saturday evening he came out of the Stone Church alone, locking the door behind him. His face was worn but not unhappy, and that night he slept like a tired child, his cheek upon his hand, his heart quiet and steady in his breast.