“He has given himself to Jesus Christ, enlisted for life, and I don’t think I ever knew a more decided soldier, nor a happier one.”
“Dick!” Jean said, in wonder, and at the same time enlightenment in her tone; this then was what had wrought that mysterious change in him which had half vexed and wholly puzzled her. It was not Aunt Elsie with whom he was in love, but—Jesus Christ! “Dick!” she said again, softly, this time with awe in her tone; and she asked no more questions, said not another word, although it was long before she fell asleep.
Neither she nor her aunt referred to that particular conversation again; at least not for many a day. As a matter of fact it was months afterwards, when Jean, in radiant health and in love with life, recalled a sentence that she had used that afternoon, and asked:
“What could you have thought of me, Aunt Elsie, didn’t you think I talked like a lunatic, or an idiot?”
“I thought,” said her aunt, with a quiet smile, “that you talked like a person who was not acquainted with Jesus Christ.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” said Jean. “I didn’t know anything about him nor about religion, either; but I thought I did; I considered myself very wise, and I had drawn my conclusions from looking on at those who professed to know him, too. I think, after all, that the blame for such mistaken ideas rests very largely with Christians, don’t you? They don’t act as though they believed that the Christian life was the best and happiest life to live, even in this world; honestly, now, do you think they do?”
“A great many do not,” her aunt admitted, thoughtfully. “And a great many others of us are false witnesses part of the time. I’ll tell you what I think is the only thing that you and I can do about it; that is, try each day to live in such a way that people looking on can not truthfully say that of us.”
“I know it,” said Jean, humbly. “That is truly the way I want to live. You see, I was so mistaken about it! I thought I must be a Christian in order to get ready to die; after the awful warning I had had, I realized that I simply must not risk having another such experience; but I could not make myself understand that there would be anything along the way but a lot of crosses for me to tug at. I just long to live so that the girls will understand how much they are missing in not choosing the same road.”
She stooped to kiss her aunt’s homely radiant face, and give her the winsomest of smiles as she flitted away, and presently they heard her clear voice sounding though the upper hall:
“I’m travelling toward life’s sunset gate, I’m a pilgrim going home.”