Yes, I think sometimes that the great Father led my husband into the wilderness for this very purpose, to make him a minister after His own heart. I said to him once, just about the time we first began to realize we weren't going to hear from Harold:
"All this won't affect your life-work, will it, Gordon—your preaching, I mean?" for it was only natural, after all that had transpired, that I should have some secret misgivings.
His answer lingers with me like a chime of bells, though it came in tones subdued and low: "No," he said; "no—I'm going to preach now to broken hearts."
"Then you'll never lack a congregation, my darling," was the response I made; and I have always thought it was given me in that hour what to speak.
XXVI
THE NEWS A BROKER BROUGHT
Nor did the congregation fail to come. Gordon had wonderful powers, as everybody must know by this time—he had always had them—and now he had a wonderful message. His heart, and not his brain, was now the source of his splendid sermons; a wounded heart at that—and it is from the crushed and broken flower that the sweetest perfume breathes. So it was no wonder that his humble pulpit became like a golden fount to parched and thirsty souls; and the pathway trodden by the throng that pressed about it became ever more deep and wide.
People came to Gordon's little church from every part of Hertford. I did not wonder at this, for rich and poor alike will crowd about a spring; but little by little it became evident that not a few of our worshippers were from Gordon's old congregation in St. Andrew's. It's wonderful how everybody loves a hero—especially if the hero doesn't know he's one. I was the first to notice this; or, at least, the first to say anything about it. Gordon gave no sign of exultation, but I knew it filled his heart to overflowing. Strangely enough, one of those who by and by were most regular in attendance was Mr. Ashton himself, his first appearance almost striking Gordon dumb. But I always thought he really began to esteem my husband that night Gordon dealt so faithfully with him. Besides, he had lost his own son—by the more kindly way of death—and I attributed it partly, too, to that. It matters not.
This feature of our congregation—the attendance of St. Andrew's folk, I mean—became so pronounced at last that it began to be rumoured about the city that many of them would like to call their old minister back again, if he would return to their denomination. I spoke of it once to Gordon—my heart could not conceal its eagerness—but he received it after such a fashion that I mentioned it no more. Not then, at least. But I'm afraid I hoped and longed; for I was born a woman, and pride died hard within me.
Our means were still as meagre, our struggle as sore as ever. Besides—and how pitiful was the effort—we were trying in a poor helpless way to save a little for the payment of Harold's debt; we tried to set aside just so much as his schooling would have cost, if he had never left us. Every penny thus laid away had our hearts' blood upon it; and was, I doubt not, precious in His sight who gave those two mites their fame.