If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

But as he watched her as she moved lightly down to the canoe, carrying her violin with her, a great loneliness swept over him. He knew that in reality Nance's heart was not with him, but over the river with Dick and the nurse. The thought that she could go to the service with such a free-from-care spirit pressed heavily upon his soul. He saw now that the time was not far off when she would be no longer with him to kiss him good-bye. A new life of freedom and service was opening up to her, while for him the future held only misery in store. The associations of the wilderness would attract Nance but a little longer, he could see that, and then he would be left alone.

Martin prepared his supper, but ate little, as he missed the familiar form at the head of the table. He soon pushed back his stool, rose and went to the door. The room appeared unbearably close to-night, and he needed the freshness of the open air. He sat outside, lighted his pipe, and smoked. His eyes were fixed constantly upon the hospital across the river. He knew that it would be late before the service began, for the miners would not gather until darkness had spread over the land. Thus hour after hour he remained there, and had Nance looked forth she might have seen his form appearing like a speck against the log building. But she was too much engaged with other things just then to think of the lone watcher on the opposite bank.

The sun swung down behind the tall mountain peaks, and twilight settled over the land. Then Martin rose, closed the door of his house, and walked rapidly toward the Indian village. Here he obtained Taku's canoe, and paddled slowly out upon the lake. Several times he passed by the mining town, and noted the stir about the door of the saloon. Near the hospital, some distance away, scarcely a person was to be seen. Was the service to be a failure after all? he asked himself. At length he saw a number of men sauntering toward the river, followed after a while by others. Thus he knew that the movement for the service had begun. He continued his paddling around, keeping at the same time a close watch upon the land until he felt sure that all who were going had entered the hospital. He then headed the canoe up the river, stopping at length at the very place where Nance had landed that afternoon.

Trees lining the bank draped the shore in deep shadows, and here Martin crouched, listening with straining ears for whatever sounds might come from the building above. He had not long to wait before he heard the sweet strains of Nance's violin sounding forth upon the still night air. It was the familiar tune of a well-known hymn, and soon he heard numerous voices lifted up with one accord.

When the singing ceased a deep silence ensued. Then some one began to speak, and Martin knew that the missionary had begun the service. Occasionally a few familiar words reached him, and he was thus enabled to follow what was being said without much difficulty.

As he remained crouching there amid the deepening darkness, he pictured to himself what was taking place within the hospital. He could see the miners seated around the room on rough benches, and the missionary standing before them reading the service. Nance, no doubt, was near, holding her violin in her hands, waiting for the next hymn. But where was Beryl? he wondered. Was she sitting near Nance? The memory of the many times he had seen her seated at the organ in the church in his first and only parish came upon him now with a sudden stabbing intensity. He recalled, especially, one bright, beautiful July day. The windows of the church were open. Bees hummed among the flowers outside, birds chirped and sang, while the perfume of fragrant fields was wafted into the building. There were sweet flowers, he remembered, upon the Communion Table, and on the organ. Beryl, all in white, was sitting in her accustomed place, and during the service he stole an occasional glance in her direction. He noted the happiness upon her face, and the expression of love in her eyes as she played. How full of peace and joy was his heart that day. He had been lifted up to the seventh heaven of ecstasy. And yet from that state of bliss he had fallen, and had plunged into the deep abyss of hell and despair. He thought of the angels who had been driven headlong out of heaven, and of the first parents thrust out from the Garden of Eden. To have known the joy and peace of walking with the Master made the sting of banishment all the more terribly poignant.

The sound of the violin again striking up roused Martin from his reverie. The tune as before was familiar, and he hummed it to himself. But this time there was no chorus of discordant voices. One alone was singing, and the crouching man started, and then sprang to his feet as the sound reached his ears. It was a woman's voice, and he at once recognised it as Beryl's.

"There were ninety and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the fold;
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold,
Away on the mountains wild and bare,
Away from the tender Shepherd's care."

Martin stood there beneath the trees, every nerve alert, and his ears strained so as not to miss one note of that voice which had been silent to him for years. Suddenly an over-mastering impulse seized him to behold once again the face of the singer. He accordingly moved up the hill like a man impelled forward by some unseen power. Reaching the corner of the building, he paused just for an instant, and then stepped to the door, which was wide open, and looked in. His eyes roamed for an instant around the room. He saw as in a dream the miners seated there, almost breathless, with their faces turned in one direction. Then his eyes rested upon Beryl! As he saw her he clutched the side of the door for support, while his face went deathly white. Yes, it was she, there was no mistake, the same form, the same face, though more worn than when last he beheld it, and the same sweet voice, but filled with a vibrant note of sadness.

"And all through the mountains thunder riven,
And up from the rocky steep,
There arose a cry to the gates of Heaven,
'Rejoice, I have found my sheep!'
And the angels, echoed around the throne,
'Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own.'"