"Just as if I hadn't seen this and expected it for years," she answered, as she kissed them both. "It is, I believe, of the Lord, and why should I say it nay." And she wisely rose and left the lovers together. Edward found them in the parlor a little later; and evidently his mother had told him something of the condition of things, for he walked directly over to the loving pair, and kissing Daisy, he took Ray by the hand. "My more than brother," he said, "there is nothing I would withhold from you. Nor do I know of any one more worthy of the dearest sister on earth. God bless you both." And he, too, left them alone.
Ray took an afternoon train for Wenton because his work called him, rather than because he desired to go. Both Edward and Daisy had accompanied him to the depot, and as he bade them good-bye and took his seat in the cars, he felt there was nothing now to mar his happiness or lessen his usefulness. But in spite of himself the divine words would come to his mind with a persistency that was almost startling: "He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me."
CHAPTER XXIV.
LIFE'S WORK BEGUN.
Four years in college and three years in the seminary—seven years in all—was a long period of time to wait before entering on one's life work Ray thought, as he and Edward Lawton one bright September morning left Afton for the large and busy city where was the university they were to attend. But with hearts and minds and hands fully occupied, even those years ran quickly by, and one spring day Ray awoke to the consciousness that his school days were nearly over.
There had been on his part the same faithful work, the same thorough devotion to Christ, the same desire to do all that he did to the glory of God; and these traits had made him through all those years the same successful student and the same earnest Christian worker that he had been while in Clinton Academy. He had graduated from the college with its highest rank, and then he and Edward for the first time took different courses of study. Edward had decided on the medical profession, while Ray, still carrying out the cherished hope of his heart, had entered the Theological Seminary. Fortunately for the two friends, both of these departments were to be found in the city where they had taken their collegiate course, and by securing private apartments they were still enabled to room together, as they had done for the eight previous years.
Ray had continued his religious work at Wenton throughout his college course, but on entering the seminary he gave this up for two reasons: The little church there had so grown under his ministrations that it was able to give a settled pastor a comfortable support; then, too, Ray had been invited to take charge of a new interest established in a growing part of the large city where he was studying. Taking, therefore, a thorough rest during the vacation between his college and seminary courses, Ray threw himself on the opening of the fall term into this new field with characteristic energy, and as the work was right at hand, and could have his constant oversight, it was soon apparent that at no distant day there would be developed there a strong, self-sustaining church.
Twice during these years of study and toil was Ray suddenly called back to Afton. The first occasion was during his second year at the college, and was no less an important event than the marriage of Captain Thomas S. Branford, of the steamship Illyria, plying between New York and Liverpool, to Miss Ettie Squire, only daughter of General Burton Squire, of Afton. The marriage service was performed by Rev. Mr. Carleton, at the First Church, after which a brilliant reception was given at the Squire mansion. The bride looked lovely, as brides always do, while few grooms look prouder or handsomer or more manly than did Captain Tom. There were some gossips in the town who were foolish enough to remark: "They could not see what Ettie Squire or her rich and proud father could be thinking of, for once Tom Branford, even if he was a captain now, had been in jail." But this remark being repeated in the hearing of Mrs. Carleton, she in her own quiet, womanly way turned upon the speaker with the question: "Which is better, to marry a man with as marked a Christian character as Captain Branford has for years sustained, even if in his earlier days, and owing to his unfortunate home-training, he did that which was wrong, or to marry a man who has no Christian character, who openly avows his unbelief in all holy things, and has nothing to his credit but a family name and great wealth, the one of which he is liable to disgrace, and the other to lose at any hour?" As the speaker was to marry a man of the latter character at an early day, the question was unanswered; but the gossiping tongue was for the time completely silenced.
The other occasion that called Ray suddenly back to Afton occurred just after his first year in the seminary had begun, and was one that brought sorrow to his own as well as to other hearts. It was the death of Mr. Jacob Woodhull. He had come up to the Friday evening service at the First Church as usual, and had taken part in the meeting with more than usual fervor. As he arose to leave the chapel, at the close of the service, he suddenly fell forward on the floor. Dr. Gasque was not over ten feet away, but when he bent over the fallen man he had already expired.
It was known that the kind but eccentric old man was comparatively well off, but no one was prepared for the astonishing fact that his property amounted to several hundred thousand dollars. Papers were found also that showed that he for years had been a most liberal supporter of the various departments of Christian work at home and abroad. He left a will, moreover, which bequeathed all his property to benevolent institutions and causes with two comparatively small exceptions. He gave his nephew George Woodhull twenty-five thousand dollars in trust, the income to be used during his life as he saw fit, the principal on his death to be divided among his children. The other bequest was of ten thousand dollars, and was given directly to Ray Branford, "being," as the will stated, "the amount due him in return for money loaned me, the said Jacob Woodhull, some years ago; and the only stipulation I make is, that he, the said Branford, use it in such a way as to promote his highest usefulness as a worker for Christ."