The two rooms she had taken were fireless, dark, and unfurnished A table and candlestick were quickly borrowed, and Mary sat down upon a broad window-seat to ponder what was to her a strange situation.
By the time her maid arrived, and invited her to a fire, and a sumptuous supper of bread, rank salt butter, and water, God had so comforted her and assured her of His favour and presence that she was filled with thankfulness and peace; the empty room and sparse, candle-lit meal seemed to her part of “a little heaven.”
No beds could be put up at so late an hour; blinds and curtains were not in evidence. Mary Bosanquet lay that night upon the bare floor, and the pure, clear moonlight shone coldly upon her as she lay, but the fire of Divine love burned warm within her heart; she communed with her God in utter content.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Tern Hall Tutor
For three years after his ordination Fletcher received no church appointment He remained as tutor at Tern Hall, and preached wherever he could find an opening, either in French or in English.
Amongst ordinary church-goers his decided utterances made him far from popular, but the warm hearts of the Methodist people bade him hearty welcome, and these he learned to love truly and well. They introduced him to “many honourable women,” several of whom became his friends and correspondents; none of them, however, impressed him as did Mary Bosanquet.
In writing to her brother nearly twenty-five years later he said of this meeting: “It was soon after my ordination that I saw Miss Mary Bosanquet I had resolved not to marry, but the sweetness of her temper and her devotedness to God made me think that if ever I broke through my resolution it would be to cast my lot with one like her.”
One may judge of the quiet but strong influence Fletcher exerted in his neighbourhood by an incident which happened during that autumn. To Tern Hall one night came a messenger from Salop, asking urgently for “the tutor.” The letter he delivered bore no name, but it begged Mr. Fletcher to hasten at once to a certain inn, where he might find a soul who wanted God Without a question the tutor set out on his five-mile walk, not knowing whether beggar or duke demanded his help. He found the eldest son of a baronet, whom God’s Spirit had rendered so strangely wretched on account of sin that he could neither eat nor sleep Doctors had done their best to remove this remarkable malady, but the one remedy lay in the touch of the hand of the Great Physician, and, almost in despair, his soul cried, “Oh, that I knew where I might find Him!”