RAY'S FULL SURRENDER.
The train arrived at Afton a little past midnight, and Ray and Edward found Dr. Gasque at the station with his carriage waiting for them. To their anxious inquiry as to Mrs. Lawton's condition, the doctor briefly replied:
"She had a paralytic stroke this afternoon, and is still lying in an unconscious condition. We cannot yet tell the result, but we fear the worst. Dr. Platt is in consultation with me, and is now in charge of the patient."
When they reached the house, Daisy could tell but little more. She and her mother had been out calling that afternoon after school was out; on their return home the mother had gone to her own room apparently as well as usual. A moment later Daisy heard a heavy fall, and hastening to the chamber, found her mother unconscious upon the floor. Calling the house girl, they had raised the unconscious form and placed her upon the bed, and immediately sent for Dr. Gasque. He had called in Dr. Platt, and one or both physicians had been there ever since, but as yet no change in the mother's condition was perceptible.
Slowly the hours passed. Dr. Gasque called Edward in to assist Dr. Platt and himself, and with powerful batteries they tried to arouse the feeble vitality of their patient, while Ray and Daisy remained within easy call, anxiously waiting for the slightest evidence that the mother was really better. When morning came, Mrs. Lawton had regained consciousness, but was unable to speak, or to move hand or foot. Then began a vigil, not of hours or days, but of weeks. Daisy procured a substitute for the rest of the school term, and took charge of the household; a trained and skillful nurse was secured for Mrs. Lawton; Edward and Ray returned to the city for the closing exercises of the medical college and seminary, and then hastened back to Afton. Ray now ventured to speak to Daisy of the decision of the mission board, and the field to which they had been assigned.
"This sudden illness of your mother," he continued, "will, I know, change our plans. But what shall we do, Daisy darling?"
The face that looked up into his was deathly pale; marks of intense anguish were there; and she could scarcely control her voice, as she replied:
"You will have to go alone, Ray. The doctors say mother can never be any better, but she may live in this condition for years. My duty, then, is clear. I must remain here by mother's side until all is over. I cannot tell you, nor can you ever know what this decision has cost me. To give you up, Ray; to feel that thousands of miles separate us; to know that you may be sick, or may even die there, and I cannot be with you! Oh, my Saviour, how can I, how can I!" And she threw herself in a paroxysm of grief upon his breast. Gently he stroked the waving tresses until she grew calmer.
"Can it be," he then asked, with a troubled face, "that I have made a mistake in thinking we were called to this work when it was not God's will? Does he mean by this providence to show us that we are to remain at home, and toil here for him? I can readily find a field of labor, and we can be married; your mother can be moved to our home, and still we can walk side by side in the Master's work."
"Oh, Ray!" she exclaimed, almost in alarm, "I have already battled with that temptation, and won the victory. Don't bring it up again, or persuade yourself it is God's will. You have not mistaken your life's work. Those heathen lands are calling you. God is saying in tones you cannot mistake, 'Obey the call.' I know it. Why he should have prevented me from going with you, I cannot tell. It may be I am not fitted for the work. It may be we loved each other too well, and he wants to teach us to love him first and most of all. I do not question his wisdom. I cannot understand, but I trust him. Don't think my love for you has in any wise diminished. Never were you so dear to me. Death would be a trifle beside this living separation from you; but he has made this duty, and for his sake I can drink the cup. 'Though he slay me, yet will I trust him.'" A look of calm resignation had settled on her face; you could see she suffered, yet her heart was at peace; for when the human will has lost itself in the divine will, the soul is always at rest.