THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 4
 
 Light Through 
 Darkened Windows 
 
 A "SHUT-IN" STORY 
 
 By 
 
 ARABEL WILBUR ALEXANDER 
 
 Author of 
 " Life and Work of Lucinda B. Helm," Etc. 
 
 CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & PYE 
 NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS
 
 COPYRIGHT, IpOl, BY 
 THE WESTERN METH 
 ODIST BOOK CONCERN
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMORY OF A LOVED ONE 
 
 WHO TAUGHT ME THAT EVEN DEATH 
 
 COULD BECOME A SACRAMENT. 
 
 1661485.
 
 Must you pass into a story a mere dream -you, 
 who were so real, so tangible, so perfect an exponent 
 of that which we call Life ? 
 
 "Like an ^Eolian harp that wakes 
 No certain air, but overtakes 
 Far thought with music that it makes : 
 
 Such seen? d a whisper at my side. 
 
 ' What is it thou knowest, strange voice ? ' I cried. 
 
 ' A hidden hope, ' the voice replied ; 
 
 f To feel, altho 1 no tongue can prove, 
 That every cloud that spreads above 
 And veileth love, itself is love.' ' 
 
 TENNYSON.
 
 Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGR 
 
 I. IN THE SHADOWS, ..... 9 
 
 II. A LIFE RESERVED, . 36 
 
 III. MINISTRY OF LITTLE CHILDREN, . . 62 
 
 IV. MRS. MUNSY'S EXPERIENCE, . . 78 
 V. NANNETTE IN THE HOME, . . .107 
 
 VI. PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERING, . . 136 
 
 VII. TURNING THE CURVE, . . . .157
 
 LIGHT THROUGH DARKENED 
 WINDOWS 
 
 IN THE SHADOWS 
 
 "Is it true, O Christ in Heaven, 
 
 That the highest suffer most ; 
 That the strongest wander farthest, 
 
 And most helplessly are lost ; 
 That the mark of rank in nature, 
 
 Is capacity for pain ; 
 And the anguish of the singer 
 
 Makes the sweetness of the strain?" 
 
 AUBURN PLACE was a large old homestead, 
 sheltered by trees, and standing apart in stately 
 dignity from the other houses, in a suburb of 
 one of our Eastern cities on the Atlantic coast. 
 Situated on a gentle knoll, it commanded a 
 fine view of the ocean on the north and the east, 
 
 9
 
 io Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 while on the south could be seen the hill country 
 in the distance. 
 
 The place, consisting of a dozen acres, was 
 kept in perfect order; the sunny garden at the 
 south, with gnarled grapevines clambering along 
 its walls and a double row of box-bushes stretch 
 ing down the center; the evergreens and orna 
 mental shrubs and large vases, with blooming 
 plants, occupied the front lawn. Tb the east an 
 open turfy space, in the center of which stood 
 a large weeping-willow, separated the house from 
 the great brick barn with its flanking cribs. 
 
 The house was almost fifty years old. Its 
 massive walls were faced with bricks, to whiefli 
 the ivy clung with tenacious feet wherever it was 
 allowed to run. 
 
 The gables terminated in broad, double chim 
 neys, between which a railed walk intended for 
 a ''lookout," but rarely used for that or any 
 other purpose, rested on a peak of the roof. A 
 low portico paved with stone extended along the 
 front, which was further shaded by two enor 
 mous sycamore-trees as old as the house itself. 
 
 In this home, which seemed a region of peace
 
 In the Shadows n 
 
 and beauty throughout, there lay upon a bed of 
 suffering a beautiful and gifted young woman. 
 She had started in life with as fair hopes as ever 
 brightened any child of fortune. Being of a 
 wealthy and prominent family, and having many 
 personal attractions, there seemed nothing lack 
 ing in life to make her career one of happy use 
 fulness. Her father was a member of Congress 
 during two terms, and when she was in Wash 
 ington with him she was much sought for in 
 society, having shortly before returned from a 
 trip abroad. Her superb voice had been under 
 training there by the best masters, and it was 
 in the sphere of music, where she shone so bril 
 liantly, that we first met. Our acquaintance had 
 matured into friendship just before the accident 
 that changed 'the entire course of her life. 
 
 We had been horseback-riding one morning, 
 and I thought I had never before seen her so 
 attractive. It was a lovely spring morning 
 the buds half out, the wind blowing fresh, and 
 the white clouds scudding across a blue sky. 
 She lo'oked unusually fair in her perfect-fitting 
 habit and hat. Every feature of her face was
 
 12 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 beaming with pleasure and animation. We were 
 waiting at the lawn gate for the groom, whom 
 we saw approaching from the far end of the 
 graveled driveway. I noticed the reins were 
 loosely dropped on the white curved neck of her 
 horse, arid as a steam street-roller suddenly came 
 into view, where the street was being improved 
 near by, he shied and turned -half round. I spoke 
 to him, but she only laughed a merry little laugh 
 as she patted his arched neck. In an instant 
 more, as the engine gave a shrill whistle, he took 
 fright, and with one wild leap threw her merci 
 lessly against the stone steps leading Up to a 
 small iron gate that opened into the front lawn. 
 It was all in an instant, a mere caprice of the 
 horse her favorite horse but it eclipsed in a 
 moment, and forever, her brilliant career. She 
 was from that day a cripple an invalid. 
 
 The best physicians were summoned, and 
 every possible aid for her recovery furnished, 
 but to no avail. The spine was incurably 
 broken, and she was destined to lie helpless upon 
 her bed for years. Her suffering was so extreme 
 at times, that she felt the powers of darkness
 
 In the Shadows 13 
 
 must have allied themselves to torture her. Her 
 back, her head, her entire body, seemed a living 
 pain. Yet no relief came. She was doomed to 
 live. With the physical suffering came a change 
 in her mental attitude toward people, and 
 toward life in general. She was naturally of a 
 bright and vivacious temperament, fond of the 
 society of her friends; but now, when her wide 
 circle of friends flocked to her service, she dis 
 missed them all. Rebellion against her lot in 
 tensified her pride, and made her lose faith in 
 people and things. Her will, which had always 
 before seemed pliable, now became, under this 
 extreme test, sternly and bitterly set against sub 
 mission. She could not, and would not, endure 
 her lot, and the inevitable "must" seemed to 
 freeze out of her heart all faith in God and the 
 outcome of any good in life. During those years 
 I was associated with her in the closest and most 
 intimate friendship. Before her affliction, the 
 world had seemed to her a place of beauty. She 
 had been very popular in the circles in which she 
 moved, and was betrothed to one of the most 
 promising and elegant young men of her ac-
 
 14 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 quaintance. But now all joy had to be resigned. 
 She wrote to him in a bitter spirit, breaking off 
 her engagement; and she persisted in refusing 
 to see or speak of him until he finally left the 
 city, and she never saw him again. Life became 
 a mere existence to her. Sometimes I tried to 
 talk to her, and assure her that a bright day 
 would dawn for her and for us; but doubts and 
 fears and rebellion kept grumbling in her poor 
 heart like the mutter of an earthquake, until they 
 finally jarred every belief and hope of her being 
 out of place. Yet by her side sat her patient 
 mother, month after month, bearing the double 
 grief of her child's suffering and rebellion. 
 Many times that mother looked on the white face 
 and the painfully bright eyes of her daughter, for 
 whom she had dreamed such happy dreams, and 
 while her own heart was breaking, she smiled, 
 and soothed the sufferer with words of cheer. 
 
 Three years had now elapsed since she had 
 walked a step, and she was but twenty-three years 
 of age, yet she said she felt like an "aged sorrow." 
 
 One morning as I was arranging some flowers 
 in an adjoining room, her mother entered the
 
 In the Shadows 15 
 
 daughter's room, and found her in a passion of 
 tears. 
 
 "What distresses you, my child?" said the 
 anxious mother, as she went up to the bed and 
 sat down beside her. "Do not weep. It does 
 no good." 
 
 "For that very reason I weep," replied the 
 daughter, quoting the words of the ancient seer : 
 "To think "that all the prayers and tears of a 
 broken life avail nothing; that they mean no 
 more to the powers that be than the idle winds. 
 O, how can you believe in a God, who you say 
 is all powerful, and yet who views in calm seren 
 ity the awful tragedies of life? It all looks to me 
 like a fearful mockery." 
 
 "My child," said her mother, "as I have told 
 you before, you 've gotten hold of the wrong 
 end of things, and it keeps you stumbling back 
 wards." And quietly she stroked the aching 
 head, and kissed away the tears, until the thin 
 white hand of the invalid stroked in turn the 
 patient face of that unfailing mother-friend, and 
 she finally said: 
 
 "There is only one thing good, mother
 
 i6 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 dear, and that is your love yes, I will say 
 that is good. It 's the star in my life that 
 never sets." 
 
 The mother seemed unusually thoughtful as 
 she moved noiselessly about the sick-room that 
 morning. I picked up a book and began reading 
 to myself as I sat at the foot of the bed; but I 
 noticed there was a light in her face that meant 
 triumph, a majestic triumph, that made a great 
 impression on me. Her invalid daughter 
 watched her. She knew of her mother's faith, 
 her mother's unswerving trust in God, and as she 
 observed the great peace that seemed to rest 
 upon and pervade her whole being that morn 
 ing, she wished for the first time that such peace 
 might come to her. 
 
 Not long after that, she had another day of 
 excruciating pain, and it brought on the old 
 rebellion as usual. Her morbidness always took 
 this form. Although she was animated, and 
 conversed frequently about books and other fa 
 vorite themes when her suffering was tempo 
 rarily relieved, and she had what she called a 
 "good day," she invariably settled into cold, hard
 
 In the Shadows 17 
 
 resistance against God and her "fate" when her 
 suffering returned. 
 
 As she lay that morning with her face toward 
 the wall in sad misery, she repeated audibly the 
 words, "No man careth for my soul." 
 
 "My child," said her mother, as she drew the 
 old easy leather chair up to the bedside and sat 
 down in it, "there are many people in the world 
 who would love you if you would only let them. 
 If you could get your mind out of this painful 
 state of rebellion into a state of submission 
 submission to the inevitable, if you want to call 
 it so, but submission your nerves would not 
 then be so on edge, and you would not suffer so 
 intensely. Like a candle lit at both ends, your 
 poor spirit is burning itself out with grief and 
 rebellion." 
 
 "How do you get around the fact, mother, 
 that if God is all-powerful he does not mitigate 
 our pain and suffering? We do not bring these 
 things upon ourselves, nor would we choose 
 them for any reason." 
 
 "No, we do not choose them," replied her 
 mother; "but it is not God who sends them.
 
 i8 Light Through Darkened Windozvs 
 
 Physical pain is a blight in his universe; yet he 
 will overcome it. He will give the spirit strength 
 to rise above the body, and will bring those out 
 who resign themselves to him, and give their suf 
 fering lives to him, better equipped for a higher 
 and nobler existence, than if they had never suf 
 fered. I know these days of pain are hard 
 so hard on you. You know your mother feels 
 for you, but " 
 
 The invalid turned her head away, and inter 
 rupted her mother, saying: 
 
 "O, do n't say anything that makes me weep ! 
 I hate tears," and she began to go over in bitter 
 ness again, as she 'had done so many times be 
 fore, what her life-plans had been, and what she 
 might have done in the world, if her hopes had 
 not all been shattered, her mother all the while 
 trying in gentlest love to draw her away from 
 the contemplation of these things, never once 
 revealing how the memory of them was cut 
 ting deep into her own heart. Many times 
 when alone she had choked back the tears 
 as she thought of this only daughter she 
 had ever had; this beautiful one that had
 
 In the Shadows 19 
 
 entwined herself, like a golden wreath, through 
 every experience of twenty-four years of her 
 married life, all the way up from the sweet days 
 of childhood when her heart had been as clear 
 and transparent as the spring heavens, as fresh 
 as the perfume of a flower, and every wish of it 
 as sacred to her mother as a holy Sabbath morn 
 ing. But now she was wasted and worn by years 
 of pain, lying helpless upon her bed. She seemed 
 a mere skeleton in body and soul of what she 
 had been, and was to have been. And yet the 
 brave mother dared to shut her eyes to what 
 seemed hard and harsh, dared to fight down the 
 appearance of things, and to live the religion 
 embodied in the words of Browning: 
 
 "God's in his heaven, 
 All's right with the world." 
 
 She made no complaint. She was the one to 
 soothe and comfort, not only daughter, but hus 
 band and sons. 
 
 One day I prevailed on her to take a ride 
 some miles in the country. Nannette was feeling 
 unusually well and talkative, and she and I had
 
 2O Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 a long day together. I shall never forget it. She 
 picked up a bunch of carnations her mother had 
 left on the bed, and began weaving a fanciful 
 story about them, dividing the parts, assigning 
 their botanical names, and locating them in a 
 fairy world of fancy. Then she said, with her 
 cheeks glowing: 
 
 "Do you know, Jean, I love to think of the 
 great geniuses loving flowers great and small 
 things coming together; philosophers studying 
 into the mysteries of life, and then touching 
 gently a flower. What is it Shakespeare says 
 about something falling upon 
 
 ' A little western flower, 
 Before milk-white, now purple with love' s wound ; ' 
 
 and Goethe, as he looked reverently at a leaf, said : 
 'God only could patent a leaf?' Even old Carlyle 
 was almost as gentle as Wordsworth about step 
 ping on the daisies in the grass. These tiny 
 things great minds seem to feel are sort of dumb 
 witnesses for God; and yet how pitiful it is, that 
 when they think they have found him in the 
 study of nature, or of life in any phase, they can
 
 In the Shadows 21 
 
 not begin to tell who or what they have found, 
 nor where he is, and they go out of life at the 
 end, as they come in at the beginning, with an 
 unsatisfied cry!" 
 
 "O, that is the case only with some unfortu 
 nate souls !" I said. 
 
 "No, it is true with everybody," she re 
 sponded; "the history of the race is the history 
 of sorrow and disappointment. If there be a 
 God, such as we fancy there ought to be, he 
 certainly hides his face from the dark pictures 
 of life on this earth. Poets are the best inter 
 preters of the race, and even the master-poet, 
 Dante, sang the most plaintive song ever ut 
 tered. 
 
 "No one could have written the 'Inferno' ex 
 cept a genius who paid the penalty in suffering 
 which showed even in the very lines of his face, 
 so that men pointed to him in silence, and chil 
 dren whispered, 'There goes the man that has 
 been in hell.' 
 
 "If we leave his 'Hell' and 'Purgatory' out of 
 the question, his vision of the 'Paradise' leaves 
 little comfort that will stay with one," and she
 
 22 . Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 gave from memory a selection from the latter 
 part of the thirty-third canto of the 'Paradise/ 
 in which were these words : 
 
 "Thenceforward, what I saw 
 Was not for words to speak, nor Memory's self 
 To stand against such outrage on her skill. 
 As one who, from a dream awakened, straight 
 All he hath seen forgets, yet still retains 
 Impressions of the feeling in his dream, 
 E ' en such am I ; for all the vision dies, 
 As ' t were away ; and yet the sense of sweet, 
 That sprang from it, still trickles in my heart. 
 Thus in the sun-thaw is the snow unsealed ; 
 Thus in the winds, on flitting leaves, was lost 
 The sibyl's sentence." 
 
 As she did so in her fine voice, her beautiful 
 eyes full of sympathy and her cheeks flushed, she 
 reminded me of the queenly girl whose conversa 
 tion had charmed so many listeners years before. 
 
 "Nannette," I said, feeling that I must in 
 some measure take a mother's oversight of her 
 that day, "I 'm afraid it will tire you to talk so 
 much, won't it?" 
 
 "Do n't always be afraid of things tiring me, 
 Jean ; nothing tires me so much as to lie still in 
 this bed. It 's the ne plus ultra of weariness." 
 
 We both smiled, and I went on : "Well, Nan-
 
 In the Shadows 23 
 
 nette, if it does not tire you, I will just say that 
 I do not see where the force and beauty of any 
 of the 'Divine Comedy' lies, if it is not founded 
 on the truth. If we did not feel that somehow 
 Dante's vision was the outgrowth of faith in a 
 veritable God, who lives and rules and will event 
 ually triumph, it would mean nothing to us. 
 What is false or merely fanciful can not make 
 itself felt as truth can; and you take away the 
 correlation of these flights of genius to truth, 
 and the life is gone; they mean no more to the 
 world than sounding brass." 
 
 "Well," she replied, "you must remember that 
 truth is a relative term, and means just what we 
 make it mean. What is truth to some, is quite 
 far from it to others." 
 
 "No, there must be absolute truth" I insisted ; 
 "the difficulty comes in our not becoming prop 
 erly adjusted to it. The greatest geniuses unite 
 in attributing many qualities to the "Abso 
 lute." 
 
 "O, the Absolute !" she said, evasively. "Em 
 erson about expressed it when he said: 'Life is 
 a pitching of a penny ; heads or tails. We never
 
 34 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 tire of the game because there is always a slight 
 shudder of astonishment at the exhibition, of the 
 other face. This heads and tails is 1 called in the 
 language of philosophy, "Infinite and Finite," 
 "Relative and Absolute," "Apparent and Real," 
 and many other such fine names.' ' 
 
 "Now, Nannette, if you are going to be a dis 
 ciple of Emerson," I protested, "you will have 
 to stop even feeling the least complaint about 
 your lot. You will have to be as calm and serene 
 and undisturbed as the cloudlets above you. 
 His is the philosophy of tranquillity ! You know 
 he says it is impossible for real character to be 
 'displaced' or 'overset.' ' 
 
 "Well, I know his philosophy did not take 
 us poor invalids into account. No philosophy 
 does. We are out of joint with the universe." 
 
 "Pshaw, dear, let 's change the subject, and 
 have a game of chess. I am going to get you 
 a glass of lemon-ice, and we will have a quiet 
 game." 
 
 And with that we played chess the rest of the 
 morning. Many times we beguiled the hours 
 in this way, and yet we always felt her mother's
 
 In the Shadows 25 
 
 absence. There was something in her mother's 
 spirit that seemed to m'ake up and round out 
 what was lacking in ours, and without that 
 mother, who was living on the heights where 
 we both should have been living and growing, 
 an indefinable something seemed to be sorely 
 wanting. 
 
 Mrs. Huntington's ride in the country that 
 morning did not ward off a short illness, and 
 during that illness Nannette scarcely spoke a 
 word, and looked anxiously about at the sound 
 of every footstep to get a glimpse of her 
 mother. When she was restored to health and 
 service again, the daughter looked upon her as 
 ; her living, moving inspiration. One day she 
 said to her: 
 
 "Mother, when I awaken, the consciousness 
 of your love is like a morning benediction to 
 me. I want to thank you for it continually." 
 
 Her mother stooped and kissed her forehead, 
 and as she kept her hand resting a while on the 
 head of her first-born, she said: "If a creature 
 can love thus, daughter, how much more its 
 archetype! If a mother is self-sacrificing in her
 
 26 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 love, what about the infinite Sacrificer and Sac 
 rifice?" 
 
 Her daughter made no reply, and the mother 
 said nothing further ; but the one consuming de 
 sire of her heart was to lead her child to Christ. 
 
 A circumstance which she regarded as provi 
 dential was the coming to Auburn Place of a 
 friend Who was on her way to New York to 
 undergo a surgical operation which miglit in 
 volve her life. This friend was young and a de 
 voted Christian. During the entire visit, so 
 serene was her faith and trust, and so uncom 
 plaining were her lips, that it made an abiding 
 impression on Nannette. 
 
 One evening during her stay, the pastor of 
 the Church of which Nannette's mother was a 
 member called, and at the close of his call made 
 an impressive prayer with direct reference to 
 Nannette, praying that she might also learn the 
 secret of abiding peace. She seemed moved by 
 it; and that night, as her mother, after a long 
 talk with her, left the room when she knew it 
 was time for fhe invalid to rest, she felt assured 
 that a new day was beginning to dawn for her
 
 In the Shadows 27 
 
 child. Not that there was any sudden submis 
 sion or breaking-down of Nannette's tenacious 
 will, but there was a certain gentleness, a cer 
 tain interest in her mother's words, that spoke 
 hope to that long-waiting heart, as light on the 
 loneliest mountain peak brings sure promise of 
 the coming day. The morning after their friend 
 had gone, Nannette said to me : 
 
 "Jean, I never realized before that for one 
 to know anything about the nature of God, it is 
 necessary, not only to believe in his existence, 
 but in the graciousness of his character. That 
 must be taken as a starting-point, Miss Mason 
 says." 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "to be able to take the first 
 step in the study of anything or anybody you 
 know a certain amount of faith is required." 
 
 After a pause she went on : "I 'm afraid I Ve 
 been a good deal like the man in the parable 
 mother read, who thought his lord a hard 
 master, reaping where he had not sown; and 
 have kept my mind pinned to that, wholly 
 unconscious of a great lesson that I am now 
 beginning to learn a lesson that seems to be
 
 28 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 taught in all law, both natural and divine, that 
 each creature must weave from its own breast 
 its destiny, and that we are not machines to be 
 moved about, even by the hand of God." 
 
 I opened my Bible that had been lying on the 
 stand near me to the ninth chapter of St. Mark, 
 and said, "I was just reading this incident about 
 faith this morning, and will read it to you." 
 
 I then read the familiar passage of the heal 
 ing of the demonized child, and added: "T^his 
 is a wonderful message, is n't it? 'If thou canst 
 believe, all things are possible to him that be- 
 lieveth" 
 
 After a pause, Nannette answered: "Well, 
 what does that mean? How can the mind be 
 lieve in such a way as to insure any such power?" 
 
 Her mother, entering the room as she asked 
 the question, answered: "Nannette, every con 
 dition required by our Heavenly Father of a hu 
 man soul lies in the power of that human will." 
 
 "How?" asked Nannette. 
 
 "It is one of the great truths of the spirit-life 
 that the will of man can command God. Of 
 course, this could not be true, if God did not will
 
 In the Shadows 29 
 
 the sovereignty of the human will; but he has 
 given to man the power to accept, or to reject 
 and deny him, with the eternal consequences. 
 Therefore, if you will to be his, and throw over 
 on that side the whole strength and power of 
 your being, the thing is settled, and you and 
 God have met. Then he can open your eyes, 
 and lead you into the knowledge of spiritual 
 truth." 
 
 "Well, mother," replied her daughter, 
 thoughtfully, "I feel an honest desire to know 
 about these things. I feel it lately more and 
 more. I am unspeakably tired of myself and 
 everybody like me ; but there is so much mystery 
 connected with it all." 
 
 "Yes," said her mother; "but everything in 
 life is mysterious. We are shrouded in mys 
 teries on all sides, but you will find out, my child, 
 that Christ is the only solution to the mysteries 
 of life." 
 
 A few days after this s'he said to me: "Jean, 
 I 'm going to settle this matter. It haunts me 
 day and night. I have not been fair and honest 
 in my dealings with these religious questions.
 
 30 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 I 've tried to get around them, all these years, 
 because I did not want to believe in Christ. I 
 have been full of rebellion, and wanted nothing 
 to do with any Power that professes to be om 
 nipotent and yet has charge of this suffering 
 world. But I will, I must, get down a little 
 from my throne of judgment, and see if it will 
 not alter my perspective. All the time Miss Ma 
 son was here, I felt especially ashamed of my 
 irritability and stubbornness. The very fact of 
 her facing that operation as she did was a con 
 stant rebuke to me. Where does she get such 
 strength? How can she be so serene?" 
 
 "Well," I responded, "you know George 
 Eliot says, 'To become great and admirable, 
 one must give up thinking about one's pleasure, 
 and by self-mastery get strength to endure what 
 is hard and painful.' ' 
 
 "Yes, but that is stoicism. Miss Mason's life 
 is not like that. She is not insensible. You 
 can tell that from the light in her face. I do n't 
 believe really that George Eliot, or any other 
 of those so-called 'humanitarians,' who profess 
 to have exhausted Christianity in their youth,
 
 ever really knew what it is. They had nothing 
 but the semblance of it." 
 
 "Well, that may be true," I replied; "they 
 knew only the external aspects of it." 
 
 "And yet," she went on, "now that we think 
 of it, in George Eliot's best characters, all the 
 power and beauty of their lives are drawn from 
 that very religion which she professes to have 
 outgrown and exhausted. Sometimes I have 
 thought since we have been reading this last 
 book, Theophrastus Such/ that she has influ 
 enced me too much, and so has John Stuart 
 Mill. I feel as if I had been carried through 
 every phase of doubt. But I am beginning to 
 see that there is a philosophy higher and sweeter, 
 and, I believe now, truer, than any of them ever 
 had." 
 
 "I am so rejoiced to know it, dear !" I replied. 
 "I believe everything in our lives is going to be 
 different." 
 
 Not long after this conversation, she had 
 several days of extreme pain, and was much 
 exhausted by it ; yet for the first time she made 
 no complaint. It was exceedingly pathetic and
 
 32 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 beautiful to see her struggling, as it were, for 
 the light, and refusing to harbor dark thoughts. 
 
 "Mother," she said one night, after a day of 
 extreme forbearance, "I do see the possibility 
 of Christ and forgiveness and a new life; but it 
 comes in flashes. There is no steady light." 
 
 The mother fell on her knees by her daugh 
 ter's bedside, and was trembling with emotion. 
 I had never seen her so moved before. 
 
 "O my darling!" she whispered, passionately, 
 "you see 'men as trees walking.' Christ will 
 touch you again." 
 
 And truly he did. The whole horizon of Nan- 
 nette's existence became changed. It gradually 
 dawned upon her, like a great sunrise, that she 
 was neither shut out of life's love, nor its joys, by 
 her bed of pain. She gave herself unreservedly 
 soul, mind, and body to Christ, and was en 
 abled to believe that he accepted her as his own. 
 She stopped trying to question. She did not 
 even wonder whether she could rest in this 
 strange new love forever. She only felt that 
 she rested. It was like a new baptism to her. 
 From that time on, having her strong will now
 
 In the Shadows 33 
 
 turned in the opposite direction, and possessing 
 an unusual freshness of mind, she seemed con 
 stantly on the advance in the Christian life. As 
 the scientist finds, in his pursuits, new discover 
 ies in old thing's that lend perpetual charm to 
 his studies, so the Bible became like a new book 
 to her, and she kept it near her all the time. 
 
 "O Jean," she said, one day, her beautiful 
 face beaming with joy, "how plain and easy it 
 is now to see love ruling even in pain! I 
 understand now What is meant by the sin of 
 unbelief." 
 
 "But you know He says, Nannette, he sepa 
 rates our sins from us 'as far as the east is from 
 the west.' " 
 
 "I trust so," she replied, reverently; and as 
 the tears filled her eyes, she Whispered, "My in 
 finite Lord !" 
 
 From that time I knew the Master had con 
 quered in the battle for the city of a human soul. 
 
 Her home became transformed. Even her 
 father and brothers, who were men of more po 
 litical than religious prominence, recognized the 
 change, and her mother's joy knew no bounds.
 
 34 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 For three years the mother and daughter 
 climbed the heights together. During these 
 years, Nannette's body began to take upon itself 
 a strange new strength. We had not anticipated 
 that, but it, too, came in a most unaccountable 
 way. Who can explain the subtle influence of 
 mind over matter? Facts stare us in the face, 
 and we feel constrained to theorize about them, 
 until frequently we get tangled up as in a thicket, 
 and come out with many scratches, but no fruit. 
 
 Nannette did not attempt to explain how it 
 was that her body became stronger and freer 
 from pain. She only rejoiced in the fact, and 
 accepted it as a great boon from the God she 
 had now learned to worship. Before the end 
 of those three years, which closed an epoch in 
 her life, she was able to leave her bed and move 
 herself about in an invalid's chair. She never 
 walked, and there remained always a deformity 
 of the spine, but it was almost entirely concealed 
 by her method of dress. At times severe suffer 
 ing came again, but it was like the passing of a 
 whirlwind, and she remained still and fearless 
 until it was past, and then went on again, hand
 
 In the Shadows 35 
 
 in hand with her strong, saintly mother. I have 
 heard her refer to those years as the sweetest 
 in her life. At their close, her mother was 
 called up higher, and although we felt that 
 God had withdrawn from us the purest repre 
 sentative of his grace we had ever known, we 
 could not long weep and mourn for very eager 
 ness to obey her parting message, to fit ourselves 
 to carry on the charitable work which she had 
 been called to lay down. 
 
 We had l-earned lessons from "her life th&t 
 no preaching, or book lore, could teach us; 
 and we, like her, became anxious for the salva 
 tion of others. After the death of Nannette's 
 mother she and I became even more closely 
 intimate than before. I, too, had lost my mo 
 ther, and we were standing, as it were, hand 
 in hand, in the noontide of life, with our feet 
 firmly fixed on the Rock of Ages, and our hearts 
 filled with desire for God only and his service.
 
 Chapter n 
 
 A LIFE RESERVED 
 
 " I have done at length with dreaming; 
 
 Henceforth, O thou soul of mine! 
 Thou must take up sword and gauntlet, 
 
 Waging warfare most divine. 
 Life is struggle, combat, victory, 
 
 Wherefore have I struggled on 
 With my forces all unmarshaled, 
 
 With my weapons all undrawn. 
 O, how many a glorious record 
 
 Had the angels of me kept, 
 Had I done instead of doubted, 
 
 Had I warred instead of wept! 
 Yet my soul, look not behind thee, 
 
 Thou hast work to do at last ; 
 Let the brave toil of the present, 
 
 Overarch the crumbling past. 
 Build thy brave acts high and higher, 
 
 Euild them on the conquered sod, 
 Where thy failures first fell bleeding, 
 
 And thy first prayer rose to God." 
 
 THE memory of Nannette's bitter sufferings 
 seemed now to spur her onward in the Chris 
 tian life. I never knew one to make such 
 progress as did she in the knowledge and 
 
 36
 
 A Life Reserved 37 
 
 experience of Divine things. Peace with one's 
 self and with one's God lends the soul wings. 
 Her eager nature went out more and more 
 to meet and absorb into itself the beauty 
 and meaning of the new revelation. She said 
 one night: "When I think of the years I 
 spent in doubt and rebellion, and of the great 
 light and love that fill my soul now, it gives 
 me an intense desire to tell others what God 
 can do for a human being. I am sure he has 
 known me from the beginning, and while I was 
 drawing my spirit downward and inward until 
 I could realize but one thing, the hardness of 
 my lot, he was using every means to bring me 
 to himself; and now that he is mine O won 
 drous thought! and I am his, what can I do 
 but tell it? I feel that it is a discovery I must 
 make known." 
 
 In the years that followed, she never wavered 
 in her convictions of the truth. The reality of 
 the Fatherhood of God became to her an estab 
 lished fact in her own personal experience. At 
 one time during her Christian life she was threat 
 ened with a return of her former physical suffer-
 
 38 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 ing. Physicians told her that unless she under 
 went a surgical operation she would soon be 
 come bedridden again. She had no reason to 
 believe that their statement would prove false, 
 and yet she was perfectly resigned. When I 
 went to her, anxious and questioning, she 
 said: "Jean, if I may quote the words of my 
 blessed Lord, 'The cup that my Father hath 
 given me, shall I not drink it?' If he wants me 
 to return to my bed of suffering, I hope I can 
 show him this time something of what his love 
 has taught me." 
 
 Although she decided not to submit to sur 
 gical treatment, there was no protracted return 
 of her trouble; and even when the rest of us 
 were filled with anxiety and fear, her spirit re 
 mained perfectly calm and undaunted. To see 
 her continued and peaceful resignation re 
 minded one of Schiller's words: "Suffering is 
 short. Joy is endless." She seemed always on 
 the heights, her spirit fearless, and perhaps 
 stronger than if she had never known rebellion. 
 
 Slowly she began to enter into relations with 
 the great world that she had so long deserted,
 
 A Life Reserved 39 
 
 with the mistaken view that it had deserted her. 
 Old acquaintances whispered among themselves : 
 "How beautiful she has grown! So like her 
 mother!" 
 
 One morning I entered her room. She had 
 opened the window to let in the fresh morning 
 air and the smell of sweetbrier. The bright, 
 low, slanting rays of the early sun made a glory 
 about her pale face and dark hair as she rolled 
 her chair about the room, busying herself, and 
 singing in a low voice, like a sweet summer mur 
 mur, one of Newman's hymns : 
 
 "So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still 
 
 Will lead me on, 
 O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 
 
 The night is gone ; 
 
 And with the morn those angel faces smile, 
 Which I have loved long since, and lost a while." 
 
 "Jean," she said, "for the rest of my life I 
 wish I could be carrying a message of comfort 
 and love to some lonely heart somewhere every 
 day." 
 
 And her wish was happily realized; for, al 
 though her outside Christian work did not begin 
 for some time after this, she made such a beau-
 
 40 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 tiful atmosphere about her home that every one 
 within felt the influence, and all the powers of 
 her strong intellect were now turned into new 
 channels. Instead of poring over philosophies 
 and books of fiction that gave no hope of a 
 higher life beyond, as she had done in former 
 years, she now studied her Bible and the biogra 
 phies of eminent Christians, and with a certain 
 bravery she dared shut out all forms of doubt and 
 speculation that she knew would compromise 
 her spirit in its high outreachings after God. 
 The result was, she grew so strong and beautiful 
 in spirit that it was an inspiration to be near 
 her. My ideals of life and love became very 
 different during those 'beautiful years when I 
 was so much alone with Tier. Never before had 
 I realized the power and meaning of love love 
 that was a sacrifice, and not a longing; love 
 that said, "I must love thee," and not, "Wilt 
 thoulove me?" 
 
 How strong in soul were we together as we 
 read and studied in that dear old home ! Every 
 room, every surrounding, lives with me still, 
 now that I see them no more that terrace in
 
 A Life Reserved 41 
 
 the sun, that room with the white clematis climb 
 ing over the bay window, near which we worked 
 and studied, with the soft breezes bringing to 
 us the freshness and music of the waters. 
 
 She seemed peculiarly fitted to bless me, 
 and in fact every one else with whom she came 
 in contact; for her soul had now struck anchor 
 so deep that one felt instinctively the wisdom 
 belonging to such strength. Everything she 
 touched responded to her in love and thankful 
 ness. Even the flowers bloomed more beauti 
 fully for her, and the dumb animals waited on 
 the sound of her voice. 
 
 As she grew stronger, we began to form 
 plans to carry on the Christian work that had 
 been so dear to her mother. 
 
 "God is giving me back my strength for 
 some purpose," she said, "and I must be doing 
 something to make up for lost time. Not that 
 I have grown so wise in the great study of the 
 Son of man. I feel like a little child who has 
 but just touched the border of his garment; yet 
 if we will give out and become emptied vessels, 
 I believe he will fill us more and more, Jean,
 
 42 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 and I long to be filled with him. I never knew 
 the possibilities of life before. It is quite a new 
 world since we have entered the kingdom, 
 is n't it?" 
 
 "Yes," I replied; "I was reading this morn 
 ing a passage in Robertson about Christian work 
 that was good;" and I opened a volume of his 
 "Sermons" that had become almost a text-book 
 with us, and read : "We were sent into this world 
 to love God and to love man; to do good, to 
 fill up life with deeds of gene'rosity and useful 
 ness ; and any one who refuses to work out that 
 high destiny is degraded. Thanks to our God 
 for giving us his work to carry on; and when 
 this disappointing world has ceased to charm, 
 when the heart begins to feel the hollowness 
 of it, all is not gone if Christ remains to still, 
 to teach, and to soothe a heart which sin had 
 fevered." 
 
 Nannette's mother had always been deeply 
 interested in missionary work, and not long be 
 fore her death sfhe had established a mission 
 near a large paper factory in a neglected part 
 
 of the city, and left a considerable sum of money 
 

 
 A Life Reserved 43 
 
 to advance the work there. Mr. Snyder, the 
 leader, she had herself employed at a fixed 
 salary, as he was a man of much energy and 
 consecration of character. The mission had 
 now grown to large proportions, and was known 
 as East Street Mission. It was about five miles 
 from Auburn Place; but as Nannette had be 
 come sufficiently strong to ride in her carriage, 
 we went there every Sunday afternoon, and she 
 sang for them, her rich voice not having gone 
 with the years of seclusion. One Sunday she 
 sang an arrangement of "Rock of Ages," and 
 the entire congregation sat as if spellbound 
 under the inspiration of her voice and presence. 
 She had such a simple, gracious manner, and 
 was so eager to bless the needy ones there, that 
 they were all drawn toward her in a sort of wor 
 shipful admiration. It was a touching sight to 
 see the strong workmen waiting to meet her 
 carriage every time with a rolling-chair, ready 
 to assist her to the rooms. 
 
 Mr. Snyder insisted that she sometimes 
 give talks to the young men and women 
 who attended the mission, which she did.
 
 44 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 This was not the only work undertaken by 
 her, although she had much difficulty in per 
 suading her father to consent to her doing 
 any Christian work. Occasionally we rode 
 to the Methodist Hospital, and spent a half 
 day, and on one afternoon of each week she 
 gave a Bible-reading at her home. Christian 
 workers, mission teachers, and others, were 
 present at these Bible-readings. She gave espe 
 cial invitations to invalids to attend them; and 
 as many did so in their invalid chairs, we fre 
 quently laid out plans of work for these after 
 the Bible-reading closed, that proved to be both 
 interesting and profitable to the "shut-in" ones. 
 Her heart went out with great warmth of 
 feeling to those who were excluded from the 
 active avenues of life. She knew from her own 
 experience the dreariness of one set apart to be 
 served. And thus everything she could find 
 that gave suggestions of pleasant and easy occu 
 pations for the "sihut-in" was brought up and 
 discussed after the meetings, and the sweet spirit 
 of self-forgetfulness in the service of others was 
 engendered and cultivated in many hearts.
 
 A Life Reserved 45 
 
 We took a little magazine at that time 
 issued in the interest of the Shut-in Society, 
 called The Open Window. It is still published 
 in New York, and furnishes beautiful reading 
 matter for the shut-in. Letters are published 
 in it each month by members of the Shut-in 
 Band, not only giving experiences of tri 
 umphant faith and hope, but speaking of 
 various occupations engaged in by different 
 ones. At the meetings Nannette frequently 
 had selections read from this magazine. In 
 one letter, suggestions were given about the 
 making of scrap-books. Nannette had made a 
 little book herself. It was very dainty, contain 
 ing a number of choice poems neatly pasted on 
 blank pages, with flower designs sketched about 
 the poems. The cover was also home-made, 
 consisting of heavy paper tied with lavender rib 
 bon, upon which was painted a bunch of violets. 
 She showed this to those present, and offered 
 to assist any of them to make similar ones. An 
 invalid who was a regular attendant upon the 
 Bible-readings used to knit mittens and woolen 
 hose, and send them to charitable institutions for
 
 46 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 free distribution, the money for the wool being 
 furnished from our collection-box at the meet 
 ings. There were free-will offerings at each 
 service, and the proceeds went toward buying 
 material for them with which to work. Many 
 gift-books and ribbon bookmarks were made 
 by invalids, containing verses of Scripture. 
 Others made and sold paper flowers, and used 
 the proceeds received in doing mission work. 
 
 One of the most fruitful occupations for 
 the shut-in was the care of plants. From 
 the lowly cottage, where the invalid could tend 
 but a few plants, to the luxuriant home, where 
 the choicest exotics were nurtured by more 
 favored ones, these blossoms were made, to 
 lonely hearts, a perpetual shower of blessing, 
 both in summer and winter. 
 
 Sometimes, at these meetings, bits of infor 
 mation culled from papers and magazines were 
 given about invalids studying designing, clay 
 modeling, etc. We frequently had copies of 
 the New York Tribune, from which selections 
 were read in the column for the shut-in. 
 
 Nannette had become an ardent student of
 
 A Life Reserved 47 
 
 human nature, and had developed such powers 
 of leadership through her Bible-readings and 
 mission work that, as in former years she had 
 been sought for in circles of society, she now 
 became sought for to take positions of promi 
 nence and responsibility in Christian work. 
 
 She and I were both members of the Church 
 of which her mother had been a member for 
 many years ; and the pastor had frequently spent 
 a delightful evening at Auburn Place. At his 
 suggestion, she gave a Bible-reading one Thurs 
 day afternoon on "Faith," and after it told 
 something of her own experience that made a 
 deep impression on her hearers. I remember it 
 was gloomy outside that day, gray and chill, 
 but within the pleasant parlors, with their grate- 
 fires and handsome furniture and draperies, 
 everything looked cheerful, and gave one a sense 
 of rest. Notwithstanding the dreariness outside, 
 a goodly number was present, among whom was 
 an invalid girl, rolled there by her father, who 
 was very poor. They two were quite alone in 
 the world. This was the first of the Bible-read 
 ings they had attended, and Nannette paid espe-
 
 48 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 cial attention to them. She read, that afternoon, 
 from Matt, xv, 21-28, and Mark vii, 24-30, giv 
 ing an account of the remarkable faith of the 
 Syrophcenician woman. After the vivid picture 
 she gave of the Greek woman of Canaan meet 
 ing the One who was not only the God of the 
 Jews, but of the entire human race, she said: 
 "There are some phases of this woman's faith 
 that contain a lesson to be found nowhere else 
 in gospel history. She comes to Christ with 
 a great, throbbing desire for the healing of her 
 child. Hopeless and alone the child has been 
 left at home, and with a determinate purpose 
 that mother approaches the Lord, believing that 
 he, and he alone, has power to help her and 
 bring salvation to her home. So entirely has 
 her daughter's misery become her own that 
 she asks the boon for herself. 'Have mercy on 
 me, O Lord, thou Son of David! My daughter 
 is grievously vexed with a devil/ But he makes 
 no response to her. She finds him apparently 
 cold and unconcerned, 'answering her not a 
 word.' She feels his silence keenly, but still 
 she follows hard after 'him, Vailing' in the
 
 A Life Reserved 49 
 
 streets. She must have his attention. He must 
 hear her. Her very life depends on it. What 
 matters the insolent curiosity of bystanders? 
 What matters it if she does attract a crowd? 
 Her soul is concerned with the one burning de 
 sire to save her child, and she has not the faint 
 est intention of drawing back. The disciples, 
 becoming wearied by her, come close to the 
 Master, and beseech him to send her away. 
 Grant her request, if right, but send her away; 
 'for she crieth after us/ They meet, however, 
 with no more encouragement than the suppliant 
 herself. Christ speaks words 'that appear to set 
 the seal of hopelessness on her suit, 'I am not 
 sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of 
 Israel.' 
 
 "The woman hears the repulse, but is neither 
 daunted nor disheartened. Hitherto she has 
 been crying after the Lord at a distance; but 
 now she comes and worships him, saying, 'Lord, 
 help me!' He then speaks to her, 'It is not meet 
 to take the children's bread and cast it to dogs.' 
 There are few Christians, I am afraid, who would 
 not have been silenced by this, few who would
 
 50 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 not have turned away after such an answer; but 
 not so this heathen woman. She, like the cen 
 turion, is mighty in faith, and from the very 
 words that seem to make most against her, 
 she draws an argument in her own behalf. 
 'Truth, Lord; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs 
 which fall from their master's table.' Martin 
 Luther, in speaking of this little history, says: 
 'Was not her answer a master-stroke? She 
 snares Christ in his own words. I would 
 set this Canaanitish woman before troubled 
 hearts, that they may learn from her how to 
 wring a yea from God's nay, or, rather, learn 
 how to hear the deep-hidden yea which many 
 times lurks under his seeming nay!' 
 
 "She has conquered at last. The trial of her 
 faith is at an end. She who had heard from the 
 Master only words of seeming indifference now 
 hears words of most gracious commendation 
 words whose like are addressed to but one other 
 in gospel history, 'O woman, great is thy faith.' 
 He now opens to her the full treasure-hous'e 
 of his grace, and bids her help herself. 'Be it 
 unto thee even as thou wilt.' All the treasures
 
 A Life Reserved 51 
 
 of God are at the disposal of such faith. 'For 
 this saying, go thy way : the devil is gone out of 
 thy daughter.' 
 
 "She had made by her faith a channel of com 
 munication between her distant child and Christ. 
 With one hand of that faith she had laid hold 
 of him in whom all healing grace was stored, 
 and with the other her suffering daughter, her 
 self a living conductor by which the power of 
 Christ might run like an electric current from 
 him to the object of her love. 'And when she 
 was come to her house, she found the devil gone 
 out, and her daughter laid upon the bed/ 
 
 "What is not possible with such a faith as 
 that? And shall we ask why it was that Christ 
 waited long, 'wrestling with her faith,' to use 
 the words of an old divine, 'shaking and trying 
 whether it was fast-rooted or not?' It was be 
 cause he knew that it was a faith that would 
 stand the test, and that the test would not only 
 furnish an example to the hearers and to all fu 
 ture readers of her history, but that she too would 
 come out with a stronger, mightier, purer faith 
 than if she had borne away her blessing merely
 
 52 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 for the asking. Now, she bad learned, as then 
 she never could have learned, that when God 
 delays a boon, he does not therefore tleny it. 
 She had learned the lesson that Moses must have 
 learned when 'the Lord met him and sought 
 to kill him ;' she had won the strength that Jacob 
 won from wrestling with the angel until the 
 daybreak. 
 
 "Shall we ask, my friends, if such a faith is 
 possible for us? Assuredly it is. God pleads 
 for our faith. Let us not withhold it from him. 
 
 "Dear friends, you want to live a beautiful 
 Christian life. You do not want merely to get 
 through in any sort of way. You want to con 
 duct yourself daily just as the Master would 
 have you do. You want to live a life of high 
 and unswerving faith, no matter What the con 
 ditions of your life are. How can you do this? 
 
 "Well, first, for your comfort, you must re 
 member that when God allowed the circum 
 stances that 'have come into your life, he meant 
 to see you through. He had no intention that 
 you should fail. There is a text that says, 'Thy 
 shoes shall be iron.' That means that in the
 
 A Life Reserved 53 
 
 stony paths you have to walk over, God is not 
 going to send you forth with paper-soled slip 
 pers, but with shoes strong and enduring, equal 
 to the need of the journey. You must have 
 faith to believe that there is no haphazard in 
 your life. He knows where our particular lives 
 will ripen best. Every tree and plant is found 
 in the locality where the conditions of its growth 
 exist; and does God care more for these than 
 for his children? 
 
 "And now, this faith is simply the emptiness 
 of self with the hunger after God which enables 
 us to appropriate and make so largely our own 
 the fullness and power of God. It is no out 
 ward gift that comes as a reward for self-inflicted 
 torture, but simply a giving up of all to God, 
 keeping an open pathway between our souls and 
 him, letting no possible or conceivable circum 
 stances shake our faith in his love and care for 
 us and in the final victory of his children." 
 
 She then spoke of her own battk for faith, 
 and with wonderfully sweet and pathetic words, 
 her eyes frequently filling with tears, she gave 
 a sketch of the wav she was led from the dark-
 
 54 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 ness of death into the light of the marvelous 
 gospel of Christ. "I do not see how he could 
 have so changed me," she said at the close; 
 "but love has wondrous power." 
 
 I noticed, when she told of her own life, that 
 the poor girl who had come with her father 
 seemed very much affected. When Nannette 
 spoke to her at the close of the meeting, she 
 clung to Nannette's hand, and could not refrain 
 from tears. We were pained to hear, soon after 
 that, of her death. Her old father, who was then 
 left alone in the world, Nannette sent for, to 
 come and make his home on the premises. He 
 told us that the Thursday afternoon he had 
 brought his daughter to Nannette's Bible-read 
 ing was the first time she had surrendered herself 
 to God. 
 
 The following Sunday afternoon, Mr. Snyder, 
 superintendent of the Mission, who had been 
 present at this Bible-reading, made some refer 
 ence to it. The congregation consisted largely 
 of the laboring classes. After the devotional 
 exercises he gave an impressive talk on the 
 words, "Come unto me all ye that labor and
 
 A Life Reserved 55 
 
 are 'heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 
 When he had finished, he requested Nannette 
 to sing. She sang, as I had never before heard 
 her, the impressive Sunday-school song, "O 
 prodigal child, come home, come home!" 
 
 A profound stillness rested on the congrega 
 tion. The Spirit of the Lord seemed brooding 
 over the people. When she had finished, he 
 stated that a few moments would be given to 
 testimonies, and added, "Brother Stone, you 
 were a prodigal child for a good many years; 
 suppose you give us your experience." After 
 a moment's pause, a short man, dressed in 
 coarse, but clean clothes, and with a face that 
 bore marks of sad experience, but final victory, 
 arose in the center of the house, and said : 
 
 "I do n't know as I have a right to speak 
 first in a meetin' of this sort; but I am always 
 glad to spea'k. If anybody had told me four 
 year ago that I would be out of my prison- 
 cell, and standin' in a meetin'-house at this 
 time, testifyin' to the power of God to save a 
 man, I could n't have believed it. I never had 
 a chance to learn that there was anything worth
 
 56 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 havin' for me. I had got to b'lieve what I have 
 been told since I was a little shaver, that the 
 worst was good enough for me, and I could 
 never be deservin' of nothin'. I was cast loose 
 When I was ten year old, an' as I had no faith 
 in myself, nor nobody else, I nat'rally found it 
 hard to get jobs, an' many a nigfht went to bed 
 hungry. The first time I was ever in a lock-up, 
 it was for breakin' a winderglass in a bakery, 
 an' stealin' a loaf of bread, an', sir, off and on, 
 I have served out three terms in jail an' ten years 
 in penitentiary. I had got at last just about 
 as far down as a man can get. There was 
 nothin' that I would n't do. I had run the 
 whole course, and when I was let out of the 
 pen'tentiary two year ago, I was plottin' the 
 biggest piece of meanness of all, when a capt'n 
 of a Salvation Army took me by the arm one 
 night, and said: 'Come into this yer room with 
 me, won't you, my friend?' I turned on him 
 half mad and half s'rprised. After lookin' a 
 minute, I saw he was n't like no chum of mine, 
 an' I could n't make out what he meant. 'What 
 for? 1 I asked.
 
 A Life Reserved 57 
 
 " 'O,' said he, 'there's a number o' fellers in 
 there like you, an' they 're learnin' a better way 
 to live. Come, go in with me. I want to be 
 your friend, an' help you to a better life.' 
 
 " 'How d' you know mef I said. 
 
 " 'I do n't know your name,' he said, 'but I 
 know you 're a man as I am, an' so need the 
 help o' God an' your feller-men to make the 
 best o' you.' 
 
 "I never had heard no such word as 
 that before, an' in I went. Well, that 
 meetin' was an eye-opener to me. I never 
 had known nothin' about God afore, 'cept 
 to swear by his name; an' when I heard 
 'em talkin' an' singin' 'bout his 'savin' 
 to the uttermost,' the words staid by me. 
 They did n't leave me, but kept soundin' in my 
 ears all that night, an' for days an' nights after 
 that. 'Saved to the uttermost, to the uttermost. 1 
 
 "Them Salvation Army people followed me 
 up, an' kep' hold o' me till I give my poor 
 wreck of a life to the great God. I told him 
 I 'd give up everything I had ever been an' done 
 if he 'd but save me. It was a hard fight, I tell
 
 58 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 you, to b'lieve that he ever could; but it struck 
 me as the truth one night when I was tryin' to 
 pray, an' from that time, I tell you, I have been 
 a new man. When I first come to this mis 
 sion, I was just beginnin' the Christian life. 
 I have given up for good all my old habits, an' 
 have been a sober, honest man, doin' honest 
 work for nearly two year now. An' O, I can 
 never tell you What a tight grip God has kep' 
 of me. Ev'ry day when I take my dinner-basket, 
 an' go to my work, I feel as sure o' the Son o' 
 God as if he was walkin' by my side; an' all day 
 long, instead of a swear in my heart, as there 
 used ter be, there 's a 'praise to God.' O, I 
 thank him for the truths that I Ve heard in this 
 mission! They have helped me along, an' I 
 want to say, if there 's one here who is laborin' 
 under a load o' sin an' guilt, I want to say to 
 that one, if God could save me, he can save 
 anybody to rlie uttermost" 
 
 When he sat down, some one started the 
 hymn, "The half has never yet been told," after 
 which another man spoke of what his life had 
 previously been, and how the world was now a
 
 A Life Reserved 59 
 
 changed place to him. Then a woman, with 
 tears streaming down her face, told how her 
 home had been redeemed since her husband had 
 been led, half drunk, into that mission one Sun 
 day morning by his little consumptive child, 
 who had died a few days after. He had gone 
 there again and again after her death, and now 
 he was reformed and a rejoicing Christian. 
 Other testimonies were given, one by a slender, 
 timid girl, who stood near Nannette's chair. 
 This was followed by a fervent prayer. An un 
 usual silence rested upon the audience. All 
 seemed to feel the power of an invisible Pres 
 ence. Mr. Snyder invited all those who desired 
 an interest in the prayers of Christian people 
 to come to the front seats. Among the number 
 who did so was one man whose appearance 
 touched Nannette deeply. She rolled her chair 
 near his, and, laying her hand gently on his 
 arm, began a low conversation witih him upon 
 the one subject that exalts all humanity to a 
 common plane. 
 
 He lingered long in the mission church, 
 after many others had gone to their homes.
 
 60 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 Nannette read to him passage after passage from 
 her Bible, and did not leave him until the light 
 of God's peace had filled his soul, and she her 
 self had had that sacred and ever-to-be-remem 
 bered experience of having been the medium 
 of the birth of a soul into the kingdom of God. 
 
 After we had readied home that evening, 
 Nannette said, as she sat near the old, vine- 
 covered window, with her eyes turned toward 
 the sea : "Jean, this has been such a blessed day 
 to me ! I would rather give my time and money 
 to the salvation and uplifting of those hungry- 
 hearted, rugged lives than to have every joy 
 and pleasure wealth can offer. It is incompa 
 rably better and sweeter. How strange it is that 
 Christians are so long in realizing their great 
 privilege : to preach deliverance to captives, poor 
 and rich, low and high, everywhere, deliverance!" 
 
 We sat there in the stillness, feeling the 
 weight of those words, "deliverance to captives ;" 
 feeling how all humanity is bound, bound by 
 invisible, but unbreakable, chains, and there 
 stands but One, the Divine Son of man, offering 
 deliverance.
 
 A Life Reserved 61 
 
 As that sweet Sabbath evening faded over 
 the hills, there were two hearts in that home 
 more fully determined than ever before, under 
 the inspiration of the day that had passed, to 
 speak of this deliverance to them that are bound.
 
 "It is enough to bear, 
 This image still and fair ; 
 This holier in sleep 
 Than a saint at prayer ; 
 This aspect of a child, 
 Who never sinned or smiled; 
 This presence in an infant's face, 
 This sadness, most like love, 
 This love than love more deep ; 
 This weakness like omnipotence, 
 It is so strong to move." 
 
 MRS. BROWNING. 
 
 THE history of this world will never be fully 
 written until the service that has been rendered 
 by little children is recorded. 
 
 We know what philosophers and poets and 
 historians and statesmen have done. The world 
 has sung their praises, and recorded their feats 
 for many centuries; but who has given to the 
 world the history of childhood's service? 
 
 A new meaning was given to this relationship 
 62
 
 Ministry of Little Children 63 
 
 and a new order of love instituted nineteen hun 
 dred years ago when a certain Child was born 
 in a roadside inn. From that day, time has 
 been redated. 
 
 It is frequently stated that the active ministry 
 of our Lord was summed up in the last three 
 years of his life. But his ministry began at the 
 time of his birth. All who had to do with this 
 holy Child sang Elizabeth, when she met the 
 mother of her Lord; Zacharias, whose son was 
 to proclaim the tidings of the coming Messiah; 
 Simeon, when he held him in his arms, and 
 said he was ready to die in peace; the Virgin 
 Mother, whose soul magnified the Lord in her 
 praises; and the heavenly host, whose angel 
 voices rang with the cry, "Peace on earth, good 
 will to men." Through all the years of his 
 faultless dhildhood his life must have been an 
 inspiration to his watchful mother and all others 
 associated with him. 
 
 There was in him the Divine, which re 
 mained fixed; the human, which was constantly 
 developing. One uniform idea and purpose 
 characterized his whole life with an immutable
 
 64 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 unity throughout; yet he was m'ade subject to 
 the laws of growth. Although the period of 
 his childhood must have been one of remarkable 
 beauty and purity, yet he grew in strength and 
 wisdom and grace. He was a natural child, 
 not a man in child's years. Gradually, and not 
 at once, he embraced the sphere of human du 
 ties, and awoke to his relationships the Son, 
 the Brother, the Citizen, the Master. 
 
 Those wonderful years of his childhood's 
 development have opened forever a pathway be 
 tween his heart and the heart of childhood. He 
 understands children. They can come to him 
 fearlessly. He knows how real the joys and 
 sorrows are that go to make up their little lives. 
 If there is a period in life where the human 
 touches the Divine, it is in consecrated child 
 hood; and does he not use the same processes 
 with little ones frequently as with his elder chil 
 dren, to make them one with himself 'the pro 
 cesses of suffering, deprivation, and loneliness? 
 
 Nannette and I, in our work with little chil 
 dren, saw many lessons of patience, endurance, 
 and unselfishness exemplified.
 
 Ministry of Little Children 65 
 
 In the Children's Ward at the Methodist 
 Hospital, where we spent many hours of thank 
 ful service, the faith of the children often im 
 pressed us as remarkable. Little Jimmy said 
 one day When he was very sick: "Won't you 
 please pray, Miss Nannette? Pray quick!" 
 and after the prayer: "That will do; I am bet 
 ter now." 
 
 We tried to comfort him by telling him his 
 pains would soon be over. 
 
 "Yes, but I 'm not going to leave just yet," 
 he replied. 
 
 "Why do you say that?" 
 
 "Well, did n't you pray God to make me 
 willing to go? and he has not made me willing 
 yet." 
 
 One morning, when another child was dying, 
 she asked us if God had tight hold of her hand, 
 and, when told, "Yes," she said, "All rig-lit, 
 then," and fell asleep. 
 
 Nannette was especially happy in her rela 
 tionships with children. It was with great diffi 
 culty she visited the hospital, but as one room 
 
 for the children was on the first floor, she was 
 5
 
 66 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 assisted from her carriage inside the building, 
 and given the use of an invalid chair, so she 
 might visit this room especially. She herself 
 had fitted it up in a most attractive manner. 
 
 The walls were wihi'te and gold, upon which 
 were hung beautiful pictures that were at once 
 pleasing and instructive to the child-mind. 
 Dainty bric-a-brac and pieces of wood-carving 
 ornamented the two mantels, over which por 
 traits hung of the Madonna and the Christ-child. 
 Gift-books and curios filled a small cabinet at 
 one side of the room. Eight snow-white beds, 
 a few comfortable chairs of various sizes, and 
 two large, low tables, upon which were toys 
 and easy games, completed the furnishings. 
 Whenever Nannette spent a morning there, it 
 meant a season of comfort and rejoicing for 
 the little ones. 
 
 Frequently, on her return from the hos 
 pital during the pleasant, warm weather, she 
 visited a free kindergarten school that was sup 
 ported by the Church to which we belonged. 
 She Would stop in her carriage, and watch the 
 children play at their outdoor games. That
 
 Ministry of Little Children 67 
 
 first year the school was organized, Nannette 
 learned the history of many little children 
 there. She used to say that no work in the 
 world was of so much worth as the training 
 of children, not only for the sake of their fu 
 ture, but because of the immediate benefits that 
 might result in their own homes. 
 
 "Who can tell," she would say, "how many 
 adults have been saved by tine ministry of chil 
 dren? No burden, no care or responsibility 
 in the nurture of them is comparable in any 
 degree to the joy and comfort brought into this 
 world by the prattling of their sweet infant 
 voices and the pattering of their little feet. One 
 beautiful example of a child's influence in her 
 home was told us by the teachers of that kinder 
 garten school. It might seem almost incredible 
 to some, but every detail given was in accord 
 ance with the facts. The child was but four 
 years of age, yet she h'ad learned to love the 
 Savior while attending t)he sdhool. No one in 
 her father's family was a Christian. She said 
 her little prayers frequently in her home, and 
 sang snatches of religious song. When her baby
 
 68 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 sister died, she climbed up in her mother's lap, 
 and, twining her arms about her mother's neck, 
 said : "Do n't cry, mamma ; do n't cry. Baby 
 is with Jesus. Be glad, mamma. Jesus has 
 got baby in his heaven." 
 
 The mother could not understand her happy 
 little girl, and yet somehow the words 
 soothed her. 
 
 Finally the child's father became very ill, in 
 somuch that his life was despaired of. His little 
 child watdhed by his bedside like a nurse, and 
 said in the face of all their fears that he would 
 not die. One night she kneeled by his bedside, 
 and prayed these words: 
 
 "O Jesus, do n't let papa die ! Papa is not 
 a Christian, and papa would not go to heaven. 
 Do n't let papa die ! Let me die for papa." 
 
 At last the physicians gave them no hope, 
 and said he must die; but the child insisted he 
 would not. She said Jesus had told her her 
 papa would get well, and she would not believe 
 anything else. As time went on, he did get 
 well. 
 
 After he was restored to health, his little one
 
 Ministry of Little Children 69 
 
 said to him one day, "Papa, will you pray 
 with me?" 
 
 The strong man got down on his knees, and 
 learned to pray from the. lips of his four-year- 
 old child. Through her influence, and that of 
 her two earnest Christian teachers, her father 
 became a Christian, and so did the mother. 
 
 One morning, in the kindergarten school, she 
 was asked how it was she felt so sure of Jesus' 
 love for her. She replied, putting her little 
 hand on her heart, "Somet'hin' tells me so, and 
 it makes me so glad." 
 
 She was always gentle and kind, loving above 
 everything else to sing the songs she learned at 
 the school. After months of beautiful Christian 
 service there and at her home, she became seri 
 ously ill. She told her parents and friends that 
 she knew she was "going home to Jesus." It 
 seemed to dawn upon her from the first day 
 that the Lord was going to take her instead of 
 having taken her father. Everything in the 
 power of friends was done to save her, but to 
 no avail. Just before she died, she called her 
 mother, and, with a sweet smile, said : "Mamma,
 
 70 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 please get out my little red shoes. I want to 
 look nice when I go to Jesus' home. Do n't 
 cry, mamma. It will be so sweet to see my 
 Jesus." 
 
 Was not Christ made perfect in this little 
 lamb of his? She had been baptized with his 
 . sufferings. She had agonized in her baby way 
 for the life of her father, because she could not 
 endure the thought of his going out into the 
 dark without salvation. She had caught the 
 spirit of the Divine mission. She had prayed 
 that she might die for her father; and through 
 her faith and surrender of self she brought him 
 to Christ, and drew Christ down to him. 
 
 Let no one ever say, "Only a child, only a 
 poor, little, delicate child." Although he may 
 know it not, he is saying, ''Only Christ in the 
 guise of a child; only Christ come in the most 
 appealing form possible to earth." 
 
 What is the Divine verdict concerning these 
 little ones? "Except ye be converted, and be 
 come as little children, ye shall in no wise enter 
 the kingdom of heaven." "Out of the mouths 
 of babes and sucklings, O Father, hast thou
 
 Ministry of Little Children 71 
 
 perfected praise." "Whosoever receiveth a little 
 child in my name receiveth me, and whosoever 
 receiveth me receiveth God." The consequence 
 of the neglect of one of these little ones will be 
 such that no language of earth can name it. 
 
 One dear day a beautiful babe came from the 
 starry world to earth. She was the only child 
 of our dearest friend, Nannette's and mine. She 
 was not to remain long. Her abiding-time was 
 rounded by a half year. Her mother had prayed 
 for her for years; and now, when she had come 
 at last, so radiant and perfect in every way, 
 that mother's heart believed not for joy. From 
 the very beginning of her sweet ministry, she 
 had a smile for every one. A lovely light seemed 
 always in her face. She knew her mother from 
 every one else within a very short time, and they 
 would lie on the couch together, and study each 
 other's faces, and look deep into each other's 
 eyes, and rest in each other's spirits, like two 
 lovers that had met after having waited long. 
 
 Frequently when that mother thought her 
 darling was asleep, and the little head was turned 
 away, the mother would move noiselessly about
 
 72 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 to the other side of the bed, and see two beau 
 tiful dark eyes lifted to hers, and a smile of wd- 
 come as sweet as a lily's perfume. At night 
 time they slept witih their hands clasped in each 
 other's, and in the morning they would awaken 
 and talk baby-language. There was perfect rest, 
 perfect satisfaction, so much so that when that 
 mother, whose life was hard to satisfy, was ques 
 tioned one day as to whether, if she could, She 
 would have her little one different in any single 
 respect, she replied, "No, slhe is absolutely per 
 fect. I could not have imagined that anything 
 could have rested my Heart as she does." 
 
 After three months had passed, the nurse 
 startled the mother one day by saying : 
 
 "I can not understand your babe. She is 
 different from any other I ever saw. No matter 
 what happens to her, she never cries. I have 
 nursed for thirty years, but this is the first child 
 I ever saw who never slhows the slightest irri 
 tability or fretfulness, and I 'have never heard 
 her cry." 
 
 The mother had thought of this before. Her 
 child always smiled. Even when her nourish-
 
 Ministry of Little Children 73 
 
 ment was refused (her, she only looked deeper 
 into your face with her questioning eyes, and 
 smiled. 
 
 One day the mother and child were lying still 
 together, and the mother's heart was sad. Her 
 face was turned away from 'that of 'her child, and 
 tears were streaming down it. Presently she felt 
 a baby hand touch her as lightly as an angel's 
 wing. She turned with shame toward that radi 
 ant little messenger, but the very sight of its 
 'heavenliness that day only made the tears stream 
 faster. The baby smiled and smiled, and tried 
 to talk, and stroked her mother's face with her 
 lovely fairy fingers until she saw it was useless. 
 Then, as if she could no longer endure tftie sight 
 of her mother's grief, she turned her own little 
 face away toward the wall and kept it so. 
 
 Finally disease laid hold of her dainty form. 
 Did she cry and scream? Never once. At 
 length indications of extreme suffering were 
 found, yet never any complaint, only occasion 
 ally a moan or a sigh. She always smiled, and 
 her face wore the bloom of a spring rose. How 
 did physicians and friends explain it? By saying
 
 74 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 she was not ill, no matter ihow plain the indica 
 tions of illness were. Only her mother kept all 
 these things, and pondered them in her heart. 
 Weeks passed. Her suffering- was excruciating. 
 The outward symptoms were painful to behold. 
 One Sabbath afternoon she had fallen into a 
 heavy sleep. It was the afternoon of her bap 
 tism. Friends and ministers had arrived, and 
 could wait no longer for her to awaken. She 
 was therefore awakened out of her slumber to 
 be made ready. She showed not the least sign 
 of impatience or fretfulness, but opened her 
 beautiful eyes, and when dressed and taken into 
 the room she looked so smiling and bright that 
 it was whispered about the room, "What a lovely 
 child! How beautiful she is!" When handed 
 over to the aged bishop for baptism, she reached 
 out her little arms and put them about his neck ; 
 then she turned her eyes to his face, and kept 
 them there during the reading of the entire serv 
 ice. When he poured the water on her head 
 and it ran down her face and neck, she looked up 
 through the shower as fresh and radiant as if she
 
 Ministry of Little Children 75 
 
 were grateful for it. Friends said they had never 
 before seen a baptism as touching, as beautiful. 
 A week from that day physicians said she 
 could not live twenty-four hours. What a life 
 time of anguish was lived those twenty-four 
 hours! But the wondrous child looked at the 
 mother surprised, with a look that said: "Why, 
 mother, did n't you understand? I thought you 
 knew at the beginning I did not come to stay?" 
 "Yes ; but I will die if you leave me." 
 "O no, mother. You will live, and will live 
 a better life than if I had not come," and the 
 questioning eyes never closed for the last time 
 until that was answered in the affirmative. Then 
 she slipped away noiselessly and mysteriously, 
 like a wondrous dream, and strong men stood 
 by and wept, and brave women said their lives 
 must become better for having known that 
 sainted child, and poems were written about her 
 that seemed wrestling with language to express 
 sufficiently the Christ-spirit in that baby-browed 
 and speechless being. Nannette watched at the 
 last with the mother. She spoke no word, but
 
 76 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 her grief-stricken face filled me with awe and 
 sorrow. When all was over, she poured out her 
 heart in verse that gave even me a glimpse into 
 unsuspected depths of her nature. 
 
 O child, how all things pale 
 
 Since thou art gone. 
 Our hearts in mute despair 
 
 Follow thee on 
 To where in realms beyond, 
 Thy life transfigured now 
 
 Is just begun. 
 
 No speech, nor words of song or verse, 
 
 Whate'er their love or tenderness, 
 Could but with faintest power rehearse 
 
 The ways, the measure, thou didst bless. 
 
 Just half a year wast thou on earth; 
 
 In its quick flight, with eager breath, 
 Thy spirit from the mystery, Birth, 
 
 Passed to that other mystery, Death. 
 
 Did'st know 't would be so short, dear one, 
 
 And therefore wast so wondrous mild, 
 So patient, with no cry or moan, 
 t So meek, so peaceful, heavenly child? 
 
 O spirit strong, and fearless too, 
 
 Which looked forth through thy searching eyes, 
 And in thy gentle powers did woo 
 
 Our hearts to thine, so truly wise !
 
 Ministry of Little Children 77 
 
 Thou wast so loving in thy ways; 
 
 Ah, how thy radiant little face 
 Did beam like sunshine in thy plays ! 
 
 O baby, baby, how thy place 
 
 Is filled with cureless loneliness ! 
 
 The world is changed since thou art gone; 
 O for thy touch, thy soft caress 
 
 But months and years must still roll on. 
 
 O the glory of those child eyes, 
 
 O, those precious, dainty feet; 
 O those peals of spirit laughter 
 
 That were so divinely sweet ! 
 Has that music gone forever? 
 
 Are those tender lispings o'er? 
 O the terror ! O the anguish 
 
 Of that one word, evermore ! 
 
 Ever was she but a stranger 
 Among the sublunary things; 
 
 All her life was but the folding 
 Of her gorgeous spirit- wings. 
 
 And she left us she, our angel, 
 Without murmur, without moan; 
 
 And we ' woke and found it starlight- 
 Found that we were all alone. 
 
 Angel of patience, do thou calm 
 Our fevered brow with healing balm; 
 Allay the storms of grief and fear, 
 And reconcile life's smile and tear. 
 Our throbbing hearts, O do thou still, 
 And make our own our Father' s will !
 
 iv 
 
 MRS. MUNSY'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 "Distrust thyself, but trust His strength, 
 
 In Him thou shall be strong ; 
 His weakest ones may learn at length 
 A daily triumph song." 
 
 EVERY experience that entered into and en 
 riched Nannette's private life seemed to fit her 
 for more perfect service in her relations with 
 people outside. Her work at East Street Mis 
 sion, or in her Bible-readings, or in the Woman's 
 Missionary Societies of the Church, became 
 blessed by whatever blessed her. Naturally a 
 leader, her intuitive ability gave her insight into 
 character, and she" studied methods and plans 
 and devised means for carrying on work that 
 proved eminently successful. 
 
 Into avenues where she could not go herself 
 she induced others to go, and her counsel was 
 so manifestly of the Lord that none could hold 
 out against it. At one time an apparently trivial 
 
 78
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 79 
 
 circumstance became the means of changing the 
 entire course of a woman's life. 
 
 It was at a Home Missionary meeting con 
 nected with the Church to which we belonged. 
 This Church was within a few blocks of Auburn 
 Place, and Nannette was frequently wheeled 
 there. She was the president of our local soci 
 ety, and in the appointment of her committees 
 she asked Mrs. Munsy to be one of a visiting 
 committee of two for the ensuing month to visit 
 through a certain district, and to spend one after 
 noon in the woman's ward at the Methodist hos 
 pital. When Mrs. Munsy heard the appoint 
 ment, she said with much surprise : 
 
 "O, do n't put me on that committee. I never 
 was in a hospital in my life." 
 
 "Then that is a very good reason why you 
 should serve," said Nannette, and smilingly 
 waived the subject until after the meeting had 
 closed. Then she said to Mrs. Munsy: 
 
 "I know you will be kind enough to serve on 
 this committee. Mrs. Hall will accompany you, 
 and I believe it will prove a blessing to you. We 
 want you to become one of our workers."
 
 8o Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 "But, dear me that hospital!" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Munsy. "Why, I should be sure to catch 
 every disease they had there. I do n't know any 
 thing about hospitals, and not much about sick 
 folks. I 'm afraid if I agree to it, you will be 
 sorry you ever appointed me." 
 
 She was a short, stout woman, somewhere in 
 the neighborhood of forty years; a model wife 
 and housekeeper, who had never had a real ill 
 ness in her life, and whose experience had not 
 been very extensive in helping her neighbors less 
 fortunate in that regard than herself. 
 
 She agreed to serve on the committee, but 
 with an inward feeling, betraying a touch of self- 
 righteousness, that it would be indeed a bearing 
 of 'her cross, for which slie 'hoped to get the well- 
 deserved credit. 
 
 She thought about it all the way home, and 
 that night at the supper-table remarked to her 
 husband and her fourteen-year-old son, who con 
 stituted the remainder of the family: 
 
 "Well, I Ve got myself into a pickle now. I 
 thought when I joined that Missionary Society 
 I would get acquainted in that way with some
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 81 
 
 well-to-do women in this part of town, and I 
 have enjoyed attending the meetings; but this 
 afternoon the leader put me on a committee to 
 visit sick folks for this month, and worse than 
 that, I am to spend an afternoon at the Meth 
 odist hospital! How in the world can I manage 
 to go there f" 
 
 "Well, my dear, 1 '' replied her husband, in his 
 characteristic drawl that carried with it an air 
 of indifference, "you can generally manage well 
 enough to do the things you have a mind to do." 
 
 "There is one thing about it," she went on, 
 "that I do n't object to. Mrs. Hall is the other 
 part of the committee, and she is a woman I have 
 been wanting to know. I '11 be right glad to go 
 with her. She is to call for me to-morrow." 
 
 In the days that followed, Mrs. Munsy's 
 visits made with this lady were almost en 
 tirely given up to friendly gossip relating to her 
 own affairs. One would have thought each time 
 she went that she was on her way to an after 
 noon tea. She hurried out of the sick-rooms 
 where they had been together, and involuntarily 
 
 shook her stiff skirts a little, and then took up 
 fi
 
 82 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 the theme they 'had been discussing when they 
 went in. She remarked to her husband a week 
 later: 
 
 "Well, I really enjoy my visits with Mrs. Hall. 
 She is a very well-bred woman." 
 
 "O," replied Mr. Munsy, "I understood you 
 to say your visits were to be made to the sick." 
 
 "Well, of course, Mr. Munsy. You never do 
 understand things. We visit the sick, to be 
 sure, and I generally tell them we are the com 
 mittee sent to see if they want anything, although 
 Mrs. Hall did say, the other day, she did not 
 think it best to make any reference again to our 
 being a committee, and so on. I told her I was 
 a new hand at the business. I wish we could 
 go about in a buggy. I think, James, you might 
 get me that surrey this spring. You said months 
 ago you hoped to get it soon, and I never forget 
 anything." 
 
 "Well," responded her husband, "I have had 
 it on my mind, but business has been so dull all 
 winter, and I '11 have to hold in a little until 
 things spruce up ; but I reckon you '11 get it 
 sooner or later."
 
 Mrs. Mtmsy's Experience 83 
 
 On the day appointed for the ladies to visit 
 the hospital, they were to meet at the transfer 
 street-car station in the city, and go out to 
 gether. Mrs. Munsy had not thought to inquire 
 whether or not they would be expected to carry 
 with them any suitable reading-matter, but 
 thought of it the evening before going, and tried 
 to find something she considered appropriate. 
 "What shall I take?" she queried. "Of course 
 it must be some very solemn and pious books, 
 and what have we got? Let me see." She then 
 went to their meager library, and looked over 
 the oldest books she could find. "There 's this 
 'Dissertation on Eternal Punishment,' and this 
 old copy of 'Pilgrim's Progress,' though the 
 print is very fine and it smells musty. I '11 just 
 lay it 'here in the window until morning, and let 
 it get a bit of air. Now let me see what iiext. 
 This 'Scottish Chiefs' would n't do, nor the 'Rise 
 and Fall of the Roman Empire.' O, I believe I 
 will look through pa's old dhest. He used to 
 have some books that he laid a heap of store by," 
 and with that she ran upstairs and uncovered 
 an old hair dhest that ! had been in the attic for
 
 84 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 years. Here she found copies of "Ossian's 
 Poems," "The Saint's Rest," "The Pilgrimage 
 to Jerusalem," "Josephus," and other ancient 
 books. The volume she selected as the most 
 appropriate of all was entitled, "Way marks in 
 the Wilderness." She found a few worn places 
 in it, and the pages were very yellow; but she 
 concluded, in spite of that, it would be the most 
 appropriate of all her father's books, the title, 
 she said, being so expressive of the condition of 
 those poor bed-ridden creatures. "It must be a 
 wilderness, indeed," she soliloquized, as she went 
 down stairs. 
 
 The next day, when she started out for the 
 hospital, sihe considered herself well equipped 
 for a visit there, with her washable dress on, and 
 carrying under her arm copies of "Pilgrim's 
 Progess," "Dissertations on Eternal Punish 
 ment," and "Waymarks in the Wilderness." 
 She found, to her dismay, that Mrs. Hall was not 
 at the transfer station, that lady explaining after 
 wards that she was detained at home by a sick 
 headache. Mrs. Munsy was determined, how 
 ever, after having made her preparations, to put
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 85 
 
 on a bold front and go by herself. She made in 
 quiries about the right direction from a half- 
 dozen people, but was not at all certain that any 
 of them had directed her right. She finally 
 reached the hospital in safety, 'however, and 
 climbed the front steps of the great brick build 
 ing. A little out of breath, she asked the maid 
 if she might be directed to the woman's ward. 
 After some words of inquiry and explanation on 
 both sides, she was conducted up two flights of 
 stairs, and into a large airy room. The walls and 
 ceilings were perfectly white, the floor spotless, 
 and the iron beds upon which the patients lay 
 clean and white, the nurses in uniform dress 
 passing in and out attending the patients. There 
 was a slight odor of medicines and disinfectants ; 
 but, with that exception, everything was as sweet 
 and wholesome as in the most carefully-kept 
 private 'house, even to the dainty linen covers 
 on -the small tables. 
 
 This was not exactly as Mrs. Munsy had ex 
 pected to find things. She felt somewhat em 
 barrassed as she approached a certain lady, and 
 sat down by her bedside.
 
 86 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 "I am not accustomed," she began rather 
 awkwardly, "to visiting sick people much; but 
 I was put on the committee for this month by 
 the president of the Home Missionary Society of 
 the Methodist Church, and I just thought I 'd 
 come and see how you all are." 
 
 "That 's very kind of you," said the gentle- 
 voiced lady, trying at once to- relieve the stran 
 ger's embarrassment. "It seems to me there are 
 so many kind-hearted people. We have had a 
 number of pleasant visits from the ladies of your 
 Society. Won't you lay aside your wrap?" 
 
 "Thank you," and as she did so the three 
 ancient books she had brought with her came 
 into full view. She slipped them into her lap, 
 and after making a few passing remarks said : 
 
 "I thought you sick folks must be very lone 
 some and very disconsolate, and I brought a 
 few books with me that pa used to read a great 
 deal before he died." 
 
 As she spoke she laid the three books on the 
 small table that stood at the head of the sick 
 woman's bed. The lady smiled as she glanced at 
 t/hem one by one.
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 87 
 
 " This 'Pilgrim's Progress,' " she said, "I used 
 to read years ago, but I never saw either of these 
 other books. I can read but very little, as it 
 hurts my eyes, and even when my friends read 
 to me I have to take it in homeopathic doses. 
 When Sister Emma -comes she always, leaves as 
 a parting word not to read more than one or 
 two chapters a day in my Bible, or a little in one. 
 of Miss Havergal's books. I have read her 
 books so much that I almost know them by 
 heart, and yet they are more beautiful to me all 
 the time." After a pause, she continued : "I have 
 heard my sister speak of the Home Missionary 
 Society of your Church, and of Miss Nannette 
 Huntington. What a wonderful woman she 
 must be! Sister frequently attends her meet 
 ings. Have you ever met my sister, Mrs. White? 
 Her home is on Fifth and Ashland Streets, not 
 far from the church." 
 
 "No, I have not met her," replied Mrs. 
 Munsy; "but I live only two blocks from Fifth 
 and Ashland, and I '11 call to see her." 
 
 Just then the sick woman in moving got 
 some appliance she had about her out of place
 
 88 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 thereby causing severe pain. Her nurse came to 
 readjust it, and she lay perfectly quiet for a few 
 minutes, and then said, much to Mrs. Munsy's 
 surprise : 
 
 "The greatest joy humanity can know is the 
 cessation of pain." 
 
 "Why, you can not find any joy, surely, in 
 lying in this bed even when you are not suffer- 
 ing." 
 
 "O yes, indeed. When I am not in pain I 
 am unspeakably thankful for the blessings I 
 have, and my constant sense of gratitude makes 
 me forget the things I have not." 
 
 "I suppose you have no husband or children," 
 said Mrs. Munsy. 
 
 "My husband is dead," replied the lady; "but 
 I have two little children one of them a girl 
 eight years old, who is with my sister, Mrs. 
 White, and the other a boy of ten, who lives with 
 my aunt and uncle on their large farm. I have 
 not seen him for months; but I hear from him 
 frequently, and my little girl comes often with 
 sister to visit me." 
 
 "Why, how can you endure it to be separated
 
 Mrs. Munsy' s Experience 89 
 
 from them, and yet wear a smile on your 
 face, too? That seems unnatural to me. I know 
 when I am away from Jimmy or Mr. Munsy for 
 a fortnight I feel as cross and irritable as can be ; 
 it really makes me almost sick." 
 
 "Well, if I have any patience, it is because I 
 have learned at last the lesson of trusting my 
 Heavenly Father. It took me a long while to get 
 to the place where I could give over everything 
 into his hands ; but I believe by his grace I have 
 gotten there at last. There 's a dear little word 
 of Miss Havergal's," she added, as she took a 
 volume of "Kept for the Master's Use" from 
 under 'her pillow, and opened it to a place where 
 the leaf was turned down. "Won't you please 
 read this for me right along here?" 
 
 Mrs. Munsy read, and felt as she did so that 
 surely this woman Whom she had come to help 
 was far enough in advance of her in the Chris 
 tian life. 
 
 "I used to think," said the sick woman, when 
 Mrs. Munsy had finished, "that I had a great 
 many rights, and looked upon things from the 
 side of justice; but now I have learned that I
 
 90 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 have no rights whatever excepting the will of 
 God for me." 
 
 They talked for a half hour together. When 
 Mrs. Munsy arose to go, the sick woman said: 
 
 "You must call on my sister. I would like to 
 have you get acquainted with her and with my 
 little girl too, and come to see me again." 
 
 Mrs. Munsy thanked her, and told her she 
 would do so. She slipped her three old books 
 under her wrap, and bidding her new acquaint 
 ance "good-day," went to speak to patients in 
 other parts of the room. She could not find a 
 person to whom she thought her books at all 
 applicable, but said to herself it would never do 
 to carry them away back : home unlocked at, and 
 so the last old lady with whom she exchanged 
 a few remarks was made the recipient of the 
 three volumes. 
 
 "You can just look them over at your leis 
 ure," she said, and hurried out, feeling that 
 surely truth was stranger than fiction. 
 
 The impression made on her by that first 
 visit to the hospital was deeper than she knew; 
 for, with all Mrs. Munsy's worldliness, she de-
 
 Mrs. Munsy' s Experience 91 
 
 sired to do right, and was susceptible to the best 
 influences. That night at the supper-table, Mr. 
 Munsy remarked to her: 
 
 "Well, Sarah, how did you and the hospital 
 get along together to-day?" 
 
 "O, I got there all right if Mrs. Hall did dis 
 appoint me, and I tell you, James, it is not the 
 kind of a place I thought it was. Everything 
 was fresh and clean and airy, and the patients 
 looked clean and well-cared for, and they talked 
 about things just like other folks! I tell you 
 I was ashamed enough of the musty old books 
 I carried with me." 
 
 "Why, what books did you carry?" 
 
 "I carried that old copy of 'Pilgrim's Prog 
 ress/ and 'Dissertations on Eternal Punishment,' 
 and pa's old volume of 'Waymarks in the Wil 
 derness.' ' 
 
 This confession was the occasion of an explo 
 sion of laughter on Mr. Munsy's part that almost 
 made him upset the cup of coffee at his plate. 
 
 "Well, I never !" he exclaimed. "Why did n't 
 you take them a copy of 'J ose P nus ?' ' 
 
 "O, Mr. Munsy, you can always find some-
 
 92 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 thing to laugh at about everything I do. It is 
 surprising how much laughter there is in a man 
 that never comes out except at the expense of 
 his wife's feelings. I am sure you would not 
 have known any better than I did if you had 
 been a committee to visit sick women at a hos 
 pital." 
 
 Mr. Munsy did not notice this reference to 
 his inability to minister to women at a hospital, 
 but went on laughing. 
 
 "Sally," he exclaimed, "I '11 send you up a 
 new surrey to-morrow if you will go out there 
 again and take them some limburger cheese and 
 that head of a skeleton in my closet." 
 
 Mrs. Munsy thought this a right severe re 
 flection on her good sense, but could not repress 
 a half smile as she answered : 
 
 "Never you mind, James Munsy, I '11 pay you 
 back for your smartness before you know it. 
 You are often guilty of a sillier trick than that, 
 and I will have the laugh on you next time." 
 
 The following day she concluded to call at 
 Nannette's home and talk over the visit at the 
 hospital.
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 93 
 
 Nannette listened with much interest, and as 
 they spoke of Mrs. White she urged Mrs. Munsy 
 to make the acquaintance of that estimable 
 woman, whom she herself had known for some 
 years. 
 
 Soon after that Mrs. Munsy called to see Mrs. 
 White. Her home was a humble one. Mrs. 
 Munsy noticed how pretty the ivy was growing 
 about the small latticed porch as she entered, 
 and how clean and simple everything was on the 
 inside. Mrs. White was an earnest Christian, 
 and the whole atmosphere of the place was one 
 of rest and peace. Mrs. Munsy felt it, and really 
 began to long for some friendship that did not 
 consist entirely of worldly matters. They talked 
 about the work at East Street Mission, and 
 about the sister at the hospital ; how Tier life of 
 suffering had made her beautiful and strong in 
 the love of God. Mrs. White was led during 
 the conversation to tell a few things from her 
 own experience, and said she had really never 
 known a song of thanksgiving until God had 
 given it to her in the valley of Adior the place 
 of trial.
 
 94 Light Through Darkened Windoivs 
 
 This sounded very strange to Mrs. Munsy, 
 who had lived a quiet, practical life, without 
 many "ups" and "downs," and had never felt any 
 especial need of Divine help. When she went 
 home that day she said to herself that she knew 
 she had never had any Christian experience; 
 but the question was, why had n't she? Was it 
 not possible for her to have an experience that 
 would convert her humdrum life into a thing of 
 beauty for herself and for others? 
 
 Mrs. White soon returned her call, and the 
 next time Mrs. Munsy visited there she carried 
 home with her a copy of "The Christian's Secret 
 of a Happy Life." It would have surprised one 
 who had known her previously to 'have seen her 
 so earnestly and so eagerly reading this book. 
 She took one chapter at a time, and read it over 
 and over, and thought about it until it became 
 a part of her own experience. 
 
 Before the month closed in which she was 
 serving as one of a visiting committee, she said 
 one day she would just hurry out to the hospital 
 for an hour or two and see Mrs. Stone. She 
 picked a few of her choicest flowers, and, forget-
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 95 
 
 ting to attire herself in a washable dress, she 
 started. After a delightful visit with her new 
 friend she returned home, and there was a light 
 ness and joy in her heart somehow that was a 
 new experience to her. She had brought back 
 her old books, and assigned them their proper 
 place in the attic. At the next meeting of the 
 Home Missionary -Society, Mrs. Munsy's report 
 was not long, but it made an impression that was 
 felt by every one present. 
 
 This was the beginning of a new life for her. 
 She found it much more agreeable as time went 
 on to visit at Mrs. White's than with other 
 women, where only local gossip was heard, and, 
 as her friendship for Mrs. White grew, her inner 
 life became broadened and deepened, and she 
 became a true seeker after God. That fall her 
 husband said to her one evening: 
 
 "Sarah, my dear, you have not mentioned sur 
 rey for some months; but I 'had not forgotten 
 it, and to-morrow you will have one sent up that 
 I think will be to your liking." 
 
 "O James, that is very kind indeed; but I 
 do n't feel like letting you spend that much
 
 96 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 money on a little selfish pleasure for me. I am 
 so well and strong and enjoy walking so much, 
 and there are other things we need more. Can't 
 I just have the money, instead, to use as I think 
 best?" 
 
 "Why, how is this, Sarah?" exclaimed her 
 astonished husband. "I thought you had 
 wanted this for so long, and I can afford it now. 
 I would rather you would have it than not." 
 
 "Well, James dear, I want to tell you that I 
 do n't care for things in just the way I used to. 
 My wants have drawn in in some directions, and 
 spread out in others. I should be very glad if 
 I could use some money to help a few persons 
 not far away, who I. know are actually suffering 
 for the necessities of life. I think of things every 
 day that I should like to use money for. The 
 horse and surrey might give us some pleasure, 
 but we really do not need it. You are at your 
 business every day, and Jimmy is at school. 
 May I not just have the money to divide up for 
 other things?" 
 
 "Well, Sarah, this is right sudden, sure; but 
 I suppose if you do n't want the surrey the
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 97 
 
 
 worth of it is yours. Women folks are strange 
 
 things. They can't keep in the same mind over 
 night." 
 
 Had Mr. Munsy noticed any difference in his 
 wife during the last few months? If so, he was 
 not conscious of it; for although he twitted her 
 good-naturedly at times, she had always just 
 suited him, and it would not have been possible 
 for him to make a real complaint about his wife. 
 Her son, however, had noticed a marked change 
 in her talks with him, and, best of all, she knew 
 in her own heart that God had spoken to her, 
 and she 'had heard : his voice for the first time in 
 her life. 
 
 Frequently now she might be seen in her 
 leisure hours carrying something palatable and 
 dainty to a sick friend, or to homes of the poor. 
 There was more than one home of poverty where 
 the sight of her cheery face and strong hands 
 was welcome. She chanced to meet one day a 
 poor girl who was inquiring for work for her 
 father, and in the home of that girl she found 
 abundant opportunity for her generosity and 
 warm-iheartedness. 
 7
 
 98 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 When she first went to that home it was late 
 in the afternoon, and inside the 'house it looked 
 dark, except for the glimmer of a little fire on 
 the open hearth. A middle-aged man was 
 crouched over it with his head in 'his hands and 
 his elbows on his knees. He was looking 
 straight into the flickering blaze, and his breast 
 heaved with emotion. The daughter stepped 
 into an adjoining room to get a small lamp, and 
 began busying herself to prepare their scanty 
 meal. Mrs. Munsy spoke cheerily to the man, 
 and told him she had heard he wanted work, and 
 had called to see if she could do anything to 
 assist him. 
 
 "O," he said, startled out of 'his reverie, "I 
 did n't suppose anybody I just can't get a 
 job that 's the bother of it. Mary, set the lady 
 a chair. Will you set down, ma'am? You see, 
 I had three fellers to promise me work fur this 
 week, an' ever' last one of 'em has gone back 
 on it. I 've mighty nigh tromped my legs off in 
 the cold to-day huntin' work, and could n't git 
 enough to earn a copper." 
 
 "What work can you do?" asked Mrs. Munsy.
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 99 
 
 "Well, I had a job at the paper-mills fur over 
 two year, but one night the boss came an' 
 turned off fifty hands of us without givin' any 
 reason or warnin', an' sense then I 've ben 
 turnin' my hand to anything to make a livin'." 
 
 As he arose and looked straight at her, she 
 noticed how slight his figure was, and how 
 pinched his features. He was not an ordinary- 
 looking man. He looked as if some tragic his 
 tory might lay behind that brow, furrowed more 
 by experience than age. Mrs. Munsy was not a 
 person, however, to become weak in the presence 
 of poverty. To her practical mind such things 
 must be faced, and assistance rendered wherever 
 possible, without spending time in trying to un 
 derstand the reason for things. She offered the 
 man two dollars ; but "he would not accept it as 
 a gift. She then promised to let him do some 
 work on her place for it, and said she would come 
 to see them again, and do all she could to assist 
 in getting him work. It was not long before she 
 found employment for his daughter, who proved 
 to be a really noble-hearted girl. She scarcely 
 ever made any reference to her mother, and
 
 ioo Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 when she did, it was only to show that her sym 
 pathies were entirely with her father. 
 
 "My father," she said one day to Mrs. Munsy, 
 in answer to some question regarding her early 
 life, "has been the best man and had the hardest 
 time of anybody I ever saw." 
 
 "Well, Mary," Mrs. Munsy responded, "you 
 be a brave girl, and when your father gets a good 
 jab again you two can get along swimmingly." 
 
 Mrs. Munsy reported his case to the Home 
 
 Missionary Society of the Church, and she, with 
 
 a number of other ladies, succeeded in getting 
 
 * him as much work as he could do- all that winter. 
 
 Several times she took Nannette with her to 
 visit them, and that always meant a season of 
 prayer and a Scripture lesson. Frequently, too, 
 it was Nannette's custom in visiting the poor to 
 leave behind her some gift, and she did it in so 
 delicate a manner, and with so much tact, that 
 it gave no offense. No one until that winter had 
 ever talked to the poor man and his daughter 
 about God and a religious life. It was like the 
 opening of a new window to his soul. He began 
 to desire to know about the Christian life, and
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 101 
 
 in his plain way to try to adjust himself to it. 
 He seemed extremely distressed and burdened 
 by the memory of a dark past. Evil fortunes 
 had made him the victim of many mistakes, and 
 these mistakes had brought ruin and disaster to 
 others never intended by him. Yet as the light 
 of Divine truth was turned in upon his poor 
 heart, it seemed to him that he alone was to 
 blame for all the sin and grief that had weighed 
 down his own life and the lives of others con 
 nected with him. He would walk up and down 
 his room, and think -his own thoughts in his own 
 way. We should not suppose they were remark 
 able thoughts ; he did not look like a remarkable 
 man ; but what passed with him in that undiscov 
 ered sea which we call a man's soul it would not 
 be easy to assert. So far as could be judged 
 from the actions of his life, all the currents of 
 ihis nature had swelled into the great pulsing 
 tide of self-surrender which swept him along. 
 He was willing, he said, to take any place and do 
 anything, if only the past could be forgiven. 
 
 A sinful character may be as callous as a para 
 lyzed limb ; a sinful and repentant one is in itself
 
 iO2 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 an independent system of sensitive and tortured 
 nerves. For so many years he -had lived alone 
 with his sorrow, that now, as he was learning the 
 way of prayer, he would shut himself up and 
 address God with a sublime familiarity whidh 
 had in it no irreverence. 
 
 "O God Almighty !" he would pray, "my life 
 has been a poor excuse of a thing. If I had 
 given it to you to begin with, you might have 
 made somethin' out of it ; but I did n't do it. 
 That was n't your fault. If you Ml just blot 
 out the past blot it all out and forgive it, O 
 God Almighty, an' save my child ! Do n't let 
 the sins o' her parents rest on her. She 's a 
 good gal, Lord, if I do say it. I 'd be willin' 
 to lay down my life fur her. Give her a chance. 
 Do n't let some cussed feller entice her off. 
 Make these good women's hearts warm towards 
 her. As fur me, jest forgive the past. Blot it all 
 out. I do n't care whut comes of me, only keep 
 your eye on my child, O God Almighty!" 
 
 He always felt better after he had prayed 
 about her. There was balm in the very thought 
 of God caring for his child. It was like a refresh-
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 103 
 
 ing 1 draught to his parched soul, and it left him 
 calm and at rest. 
 
 One bitter cold night he was hurrying home, 
 after having carried to a safe shelter a little boy 
 who would otherwise have frozen, when he felt 
 sharp pains in his lungs and through his chest, 
 which were only too clear an indication K>f what 
 must follow. For ten days after this he was racked 
 with pain, and often delirious. His daughter 
 sent word to Mrs. Munsy, and she went regularly 
 to their home. Mr. Munsy's heaviest flannels 
 were put to service, and every hot and healing 
 application her brain could devise was used ; but 
 to no avail. The physician who had been sum 
 moned said he could not possibly live. 
 
 One afternoon, wfhen he was alone with his 
 daughter, he felt that his last hours had come. 
 
 "Did you ever pray, Mary?" he said to his 
 child. "I 've not lived over-well, Mary ; but 
 may be God '11 forgive me, after all." 
 
 She only sobbed a reply. 
 
 "Mary," said the poor fellow again in his 
 weak voice, "did you ever pray?" 
 
 "Yes, father, when I was a little bit o' girl. I
 
 IO4 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 went to Sunday-school do n't you remem 
 ber? when the bells was ringin', and I think I 
 prayed ; but that was so long ago, father. I 've 
 been trying to pray lately, too, sence the kind 
 women have been comin' here. Shall I go after 
 Mrs. Munsy now?" 
 
 "No, do n't leave me, child. If God Almighty 
 wants her to come, he '11 send her, I reckon." 
 
 The day was cold and bleak. A heavy 
 snow had fallen, and toward nightfall the 
 wind arose. Sometimes its dismal wail seemed 
 to run around the house. The sick man was 
 tossing upon his bed, and Mary was rocking 
 by his side. All else was still. Then a step 
 was heard on the crisp snow outside, and a knock 
 at the door. The sick man tried to raise his 
 head. In a moment the latch was lifted, and 
 Mrs. Munsy entered the room. 
 
 "I Ve come to help take care of you to 
 night," she said to the sick man. 
 
 "O, I was jest thinkin' of you, an' I thought 
 maybe God would send you in this dark hour, 
 though I 'm noways worthy of it. Yes, God is 
 fair. As far as I can tell, he means well."
 
 Mrs. Munsy's Experience 105 
 
 Mrs. Munsy undid her heavy wrap, and threw 
 it over a chair. She stirred the fire and made 
 it burn brightly. The bed-covers, which had 
 been dragged away in the restlessness of the suf 
 ferer, she spread afresh. Reaching over the bed, 
 she raised the sick man's head tenderly while 
 she beat out his pillow. As it grew dark she 
 lit a small lamp that stood at hand, went to the 
 cupboard in the adjoining kitchen, and took out 
 a jar of barley, and then to the stove and took 
 up a saucepan. Within five minutes she was 
 boiling something. The young girl followed her 
 every movement with watchful eyes. Presently 
 she came to the bedside again with a small dish 
 in her hand. 
 
 "Take a little of this," she said ; "your mouth 
 is parched." 
 
 "How did you know?" he asked, lifting his 
 eyes to hers. 
 
 She made no reply, but held her cool hand on 
 his burning forehead. She put another spoonful 
 of barley-water to his lips. He was like a child, 
 and did as she directed. 
 
 She staid there all night, and tried to soothe
 
 106 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 the cries of a poor desolate soul face to face 
 with the last great reality. She had never 
 before heard her own voice in prayer; but she 
 prayed that night with great earnestness for his 
 salvation, until at last a look of peace came over 
 his face, and he said in a broken whisper, "O yes, 
 the Almighty has forgiven me, and he '11 save 
 my child!" 
 
 The dawn came at last. Its faint streak of 
 light crept lazily in at the curtainless window, 
 and as it lightened the little room the man's soul 
 was illumined with the light of the Infinite, and 
 his body sank into a deep sleep. The angel of 
 the Lord had visited that humble dwelling 
 among the desolate hills. 
 
 From that time Mary went to Mrs. Munsy's 
 home, and became a loved member of her house 
 hold; and Mrs. Munsy felt she owed the serv 
 ice of a lifetime to the God Who had directed her 
 steps so wondrously ever since the first day 
 she gave herself unreservedly to him.
 
 v 
 
 NANNETTE IN THE HOME 
 
 "So I am watching quietly 
 
 Every day. 
 Whenever the sun shines brightly, 
 
 I arise and say : 
 
 'Surely it is the shining of His face.' 
 And look unto the gates of His high place 
 
 Beyond the sea ; 
 For I know He is coming shortly 
 
 To summon me. 
 And when a shadow falls across the window 
 
 Of my room, 
 
 Where I am working at my appointed task, 
 I lift my head to watch the door, and ask 
 
 If He is come; 
 And the angel answers sweetly 
 
 In my home : 
 
 'Only a few more shadows, 
 And He will come.' " 
 
 MRS. B. MCANDREW. 
 
 NANNETTE was permitted to spend eight years 
 in active Christian service. The months that 
 passed in her life after that seem to me, as I 
 look back at them through the vista of distant 
 years, like some beautiful dream. 
 
 She had been obliged to give up her work at 
 107
 
 io8 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 the mission and other places, and to remain 
 in her home. Her strong spirit cast a radiance 
 there that converted it into a veritable sanctuary. 
 Her brothers were away from the city that year, 
 and only her father and myself were with her. 
 She would not let me leave 'her, and sometimes 
 I spent months together in the dear old home. 
 Her strength left her almost entirely that 
 summer, and we knew she could not remain 
 with us long, yet it was impossible to feel op 
 pressed, or even sad, in her presence. She 
 seemed like a spirit from the better world, so still 
 and full of life. How well I remember it all, 
 now that it has gone from me forever, those 
 peaceful days when I was only too glad to 
 lighten her correspondence and other duties 
 that I knew were becoming a weight to her 
 failing strength! Yet she still prepared her 
 Bible-readings, no matter what the weakness of 
 her body. She was no longer able to go to 
 the mission and do work there; but workers 
 from there came to her to get her advice and 
 help. Through the influence of her Bible-read 
 ings, two industrial schools had been opened
 
 Nannette in the Home 109 
 
 in different parts of the city, and much of the 
 work had been practically carried on by her. 
 Reports of these were still sent in to her, and 
 all felt the need and wisdom of her counsel. 
 
 It was a constant joy to her to hear of the 
 success of the work. She literally lived for 
 others. Things sometimes happened that 
 would have discouraged a less trustful soul, but 
 she refused to be discouraged. 
 
 Every morning she arose early, and spent 
 the first hour of the day with her Bible in com 
 munion with God. She said she must have that 
 sweet hour to start off the day. She always 
 had arranged 'her time systematically, so that 
 one was never impressed with her being hurried. 
 Things seemed to move leisurely about the 
 home. 
 
 One day she was sitting in her invalid chair 
 on the velvety lawn, dressed in white, with a 
 book lying open in her lap. One hand rested 
 on the book, while the other dropped carelessly 
 over the arm of her chair. Her eyes were 
 turned upward, and I thought, as I looked at 
 her from the window of my room, I had never
 
 no Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 seen her so beautiful before. When, at last, I 
 went out, and disturbed her reverie by going 
 up behind her, she clasped my arms about her 
 neck, and drew my face down to hers. After 
 a moment I said, "What book is that you have, 
 dear?" 
 
 "This life of Bella Cooke, 'Rifted Clouds/ " 
 she answered, taking up the book, while I 
 went around and sat down on the grass beside 
 her. "What a remarkable woman she is! 
 What a revelation of God's grace and power in 
 a human life is recorded here! He could not 
 have dealt with many as he dealt with her. I 
 have such an admiration for people who have 
 a determinate purpose in their faith, and who 
 overcome untoward circumstances. It seems 
 very wonderful to me that she could have reared 
 her children when in such poverty and weak 
 ness, and carried on her Christian work from a 
 bed of suffering." 
 
 "Well, you have reared some children too," 
 I said. 
 
 She smiled, and answered: "O, my spiritual 
 children, you mean! Well, yes; they are real
 
 Nannette in the Home in 
 
 relationships too. I can not tell you how I love 
 every one of them. I know the dates of their 
 birth, and how old they are, and how fast they 
 grow, and to which ones I give the 'milk of 
 the Word,' and which can take the 'strong 
 meat/ How tenderly some of them have to be 
 nurtured, Jean ! They are so helpless. You '11 
 have to take my place with them before a great 
 while." 
 
 " O no, Nannette; I never, never could." 
 
 "Well, if you must go otherwhere, God will 
 raise up some one else. Yes, indeed; he raised 
 me up, and he will raise up another." 
 
 Just then her father came down the walk, 
 with her light wrap on his arm. 
 
 "Daughter," he said, throwing it gently 
 across her shoulders, "it is getting cool now. 
 Let me roll you in." 
 
 "Dear father, how thoughtful you are! But 
 I have not felt cool. The breezes feel like fresh 
 caresses; spirit-caresses, you know," she added, 
 laughing; "the flesh profiteth nothing." 
 
 "Ah, Nannette," he said, fondly, "it profits 
 everything to me to have you in the flesh."
 
 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 "But, father, the tie between us is stronger 
 than death," she answered, seriously. 
 
 He only sighed. 
 
 "Father, I am sure you are going to believe 
 this," she continued, looking earnestly into his 
 face when he had rolled her chair into the 
 library, and was standing by her. "When you 
 do n't see this shell of me being carried about 
 by my spirit any longer, I '11 be so close to you 
 that your thoughts can even speak to me." 
 
 "You are growing more and more every 
 day like" his eyes filled with tears "your 
 sainted mother." 
 
 "That is just what you want, dear father; 
 and have you not felt her very close to you 
 during these past nine years?" 
 
 He did not answer immediately; but pres 
 ently, r.s he walked out of the room, he said in 
 a low voice, "Yes, at times I have." 
 
 Nannette sat frequently near the large bay- 
 window that was heavily draped in the white 
 clematis-vine, and enriched with the breath of 
 its blossoms. From there she could look out 
 on the sea, and listen to the distant music of
 
 Nannette in the Home 113 
 
 the waters. She was sitting there one morn 
 ing in her simple white wrapper, with its lace' 
 trimming falling soft about her white neck and 
 hands, when I entered the room somewhat 
 perturbed because of my inability to get per 
 sons to do things I wanted to have done. 
 
 The moment I contemplated her, my con 
 science gave me a sting ; for during those years 
 my life was crowded full of blessings, and I 
 knew it. 
 
 "You look so perfectly radiant," I said, "sit 
 ting there; and here I am, ten times as strong 
 as you are, and yet " 
 
 I did not finish my sentence. She was so 
 sweet, and spoke so graciously as she looked out 
 on the beauties of nature. 
 
 "O, I love everything, Jeanie, from the dew- 
 drop to the stars." 
 
 I threw myself on a sofa that was behind 
 her, and shut out with its soft cushions the 
 vision of everything. She went on meditatively : 
 
 "I used to try to look up to God through 
 nature; but he has just reversed my vision, and 
 I see all things now through him and his love.
 
 ii4 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 Can't you hear the music of nature this morn 
 ing? Everything is in tune singing a hallelujah 
 chorus. 
 
 'From the billowy green beneath me 
 
 To the fathomless blue above, 
 The creatures of God are happy 
 
 In the warmth of their summer love. 
 The Infinite bliss of Nature, 
 
 I can feel in every vein, 
 The light and the life of summer, 
 
 Blossom in heart and brain.' " 
 
 "But, Nannette," I said at last, as I sat up 
 and followed the direction of her eyes, "how 
 people mar God's creation !" 
 
 "O, let 's love them, Jean. As some one has 
 said, 'Humanity is a race of insane angels, and 
 some day will be restored to sanity and love.' 
 God is in the race, and he is stronger than his 
 enemies. There 's nothing like love. The 
 world has not fathomed it yet. It is some great, 
 strange, potent force that we only get the re 
 flection from down here. How beautiful it 
 will be some time just to be enveloped in it, 
 and know nothing else! Sometimes, dearie, I 
 can hardly wait." 
 
 I said nothing further, and she went on say-
 
 Nannette in the Home 115 
 
 ing beautiful and tender things that rested my 
 spirit like strains of music. Finally I got up and 
 said, as I stooped and kissed her hair: 
 
 "Well, what do you think I have been doing? 
 You are to have a little surprise party 
 this afternoon. I '11 tell you now, so you can 
 get ready to be surprised! There will be a 
 score and more of persons who will sip the 
 honey of this place from two to five. What do 
 you say to that?" 
 
 "Well, I am surprised," she answered, smil 
 ing, and looking up with questioning eyes. "I 
 thought my party days were over long 
 years ago." 
 
 "Well, this may not resemble the parties of 
 long ago in some respects, but I '11 warrant it 
 will in merriment," and out I went to take up 
 my line of preparations again, but with much 
 better cheer. By chance or by some mysterious 
 law that makes even little things work better, 
 the moment we attempt them with a spirit of 
 pleasant assurance, everything I turned my 
 hand to now began to work successfully. The 
 florist, for whom I had been waiting rather im-
 
 n6 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 patiently, came and brought exactly the flowers 
 and plants I wanted; and the belated dairyman 
 drove up; and the cook, who had been inclined 
 to irritability, began humming a little song; 
 and life ran smooth as a May morning. 
 
 Nannette had always given a Thanksgiving 
 dinner to her children, as she called them; but I 
 feared she would not spend another Thanks 
 giving with us, and I wanted to see her again 
 amid a throng of happy children. So I had 
 planned this beautiful July day for the occasion. 
 
 At two o'clock she was sitting on the front 
 veranda, with a dainty pink gown on, her father 
 had bought for her, and a bunch of rosebuds 
 in her dark-brown hair. She looked very sweet 
 and expectant when a large band-wagon drove 
 up, and a perfect bevy of children in white came 
 running and flying up the walk to greet her. 
 
 Some moved slower because they were help 
 ing invalid children. Two little adjustable 
 chairs were lifted out, and children who could 
 not walk were rolled in them. Others were 
 being assisted by willing little hands of robust 
 children. So altogether there was a stream and
 
 Nannette in the Home 117 
 
 flutter of white beauty leading all the way from 
 the gate to the veranda. Immediately upon 
 their arrival, the laughter and playing and rol 
 licking began. 
 
 "O how lovely you all are !" she said. "You 
 quite overwhelm me." 
 
 They climbed about her chair, and covered 
 her with caresses until I gently remonstrated, 
 saying, "Be careful, you will suffocate her." 
 
 "O," she laughed, "wouldn't it be delight 
 ful to be suffocated in this way baby fingers, 
 baby kisses ! Let 's have more of it ;" and they 
 screamed and laughed and lovingly dispersed 
 with that fine instinct that belongs to child 
 hood. 
 
 She was rolled out on the lawn into the midst 
 of them, and it was not long until they all be 
 came engaged in various kinds of games. The 
 little invalid children remained close by her, but 
 all took some part in the games. Then came the 
 songs bird songs, flower songs, tree songs, and 
 boat songs. After each song they would clap 
 their hands and encore themselves, until they 
 were in high glee.
 
 n8 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 One song that was a universal favorite was 
 called "The Cuckoo Song." Almost every child 
 was familiar with it. 
 
 "Where art thou, O my bird, where art thou flying, 
 
 Over the buttercup hill? 
 
 Say, art thou, in thy wild flight, from me hieing 
 Swift to the road or the rill? 
 
 Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo ! 
 Over the buttercup hill. 
 
 O sweet bird, O sweet bird, from my sight faded, 
 
 Now can I see thee no more ; 
 Gone, like the light which a tempest has shaded, 
 
 Lost, like a wave on the shore. 
 
 There thou art once again, calling and dancing 
 
 Like a wild fay in thy flight! 
 Out of the gloom of the cedar boughs glancing, 
 
 With a clear note of delight. 
 
 Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo ! 
 Over the buttercup hill." 
 
 The neighborhood rang with their voices, 
 and the old trees in the yard seemed holding 
 their breath to listen. 
 
 About three o'clock, we all adjourned to the 
 large, old dining-room. Several young lady 
 friends were present, and assisted in arranging 
 the children at the table. The dining-room
 
 Nannette in the Home 119 
 
 looked very handsome with its solid mahogany 
 furniture and decorations of green; the tall 
 sideboard holding pieces of old china and 
 silver that had belonged to Nannette's mother 
 and grandmother ; the cut-glass on shelves made 
 into the wall on an opposite side of the room, 
 partially veiled by dainty curtains; and the 
 heavy extension-table in the center of the room. 
 
 Here was spread, that memorable day, on 
 a cloth of snowy linen, fruits, cakes, ices, and 
 knickknacks. Each dainty plate had by it a 
 tiny bouquet, and I had arranged in the center 
 of the table smilax and forget-me-nots to form 
 the letters, I. H. N. (In His Name). 
 
 We spent almost an hour at the table in 
 pleasant conversation with the little ones, after 
 which we went into the music-room, and Nan 
 nette insisted on my playing. I played a Polacca 
 Brilliante of Weber's, and one or two of Mendels 
 sohn's "Songs without Words." The children 
 were appreciative listeners, and after I had fin 
 ished they wanted to hear Nannette sing. I 
 knew she could no longer sing much, but to 
 please them, she gave them several lullaby songs.
 
 I2O Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 We then went out on the lawn again, and at the 
 suggestion of one of the children we began to 
 make clover-wreaths. 
 
 The prettiest one, in which were intertwined 
 smilax and rosebuds, was given to Nannette; 
 but she gently lifted it off her own head, and 
 placed it on that of a little hunchbacked child 
 near her, who was not blessed with a handsome 
 face any more than with a straight figure. 
 
 "I want this wreath," she said, "in a place 
 where I can look at it all the time, and so I '11 
 put it on the head of little Alice. How perfectly 
 it fits her too !" 
 
 The child looked up with a great gratitude 
 in her face for the love of this woman, who 
 seemed to her like some fairy goddess she had 
 read about. 
 
 "Now," said Nannette, "if you '11 all sit down 
 in front of me on the grass, and be very still, 
 I '11 tell you a story." 
 
 "O yes, yes, a story !" they cried. "Let 's 
 have two of 'em." 
 
 First she told them a funny story, which she 
 called, "The Three-legged Dancers." They
 
 Nannette in the Home 121 
 
 laughed heartily at that, and then some of them 
 said, "Let 's have a long story, and a good one 
 that we will always remember." 
 
 She thought a moment, and then said : "Well, 
 I believe I will tell you a missionary story, a 
 story of a girl away over in India; shall I? It 
 is one of my very dearest stories, and it is all 
 true." 
 
 "O, that will be fine!" they said, as they 
 perched themselves down in little patches on 
 the grass in front of her, several of the boys pre 
 ferring limbs of the great tree at her side, but 
 all fixing their eyes intently on her as she 
 began : 
 
 "Away over in far India, not many years ago, 
 there was a mission school being taught by some 
 good Christian women who had gone from this 
 country to do what they could to help save the 
 women and children of India. After long 
 months of patient labor, some of the heathen 
 women and girls did begin to attend the zenana 
 gatherings, as they were called, in the mission- 
 house of the teachers, and to learn a few things 
 concerning the Bible and the Christian's God.
 
 123 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 But these women of India were all Brahmans 
 that is, they worshiped Brahma, their god, and 
 were great idolaters. Brahmans, you must 
 know, keep themselves apart from all others, 
 and are counted as the lords of their religion. 
 They do not consider anybody who is not of 
 their religion fit to touch them. One of them 
 said one day, when she had just finished her de 
 votions to her idol, 'If the Queen of England 
 comes now to my house, she can not touch me; 
 for she eats flesh.' 
 
 "Even after the members of a Brahman house 
 had learned to love two of our mission teachers, 
 and these teachers were allowed to sit in a small 
 room at the outer threshold of their house, while 
 their pupil sat within, in order for the teachers 
 to give the lessons, the books had to be thrown 
 to each other; for they would not take a book 
 from the hand of a missionary. 
 
 "They have very queer ways over there. 
 They are so particular in their ideas of cleanli 
 ness that when they eat they break their food, 
 and throw it, piece by piece, into their mouths, 
 never letting their hands touch their mouths.
 
 Nannette in the Home 123 
 
 If any of them passed our teachers in the streets, 
 they would draw aside their clothing for fear of 
 touching them. 
 
 "Well, one young girl of whom I am going 
 to tell you, was the daughter of a very wealthy 
 and influential Brahman. He was very learned, 
 and had a great deal of influence among his 
 people. While, as a Brahman, he could not par 
 take of food with Europeans nor entertain them 
 under his own roof, yet he often rented halls, and 
 gave banquets to the Honorable Members of 
 Council who came to India from England. 
 
 "His lovely child was brought up in great 
 seclusion, and taught 'to live a life of idolatry. 
 At the age of ten years, she was married to her 
 nearest marriageable relative, as some of you 
 know is the custom over there. Think of little 
 Helen or Nora here being married to some big 
 man she never saw!" 
 
 This remark caused a little ripple of laughter, 
 and Nannette went on: 
 
 "Well, her father died just before her mar 
 riage, and left her a large fortune. They had a 
 grand show at her wedding. Distinguished
 
 124 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 people were present, and she received gifts of 
 jewels, vessels, and clothes, worth a fortune. 
 
 "She was very happy as a child the pet of the 
 entire household. She was religious, too, in her 
 way, and besides the idols in her house, she had 
 in her room twenty-five pictures of idols and 
 twelve images, large and small, of the very best 
 kind. These she would decorate with flowers, 
 and prepare for worship. Many times she would 
 fast for days to please her gods, and count over 
 one thousand beads, attaching a prayer to each 
 one. She even had a beautiful temple built for 
 their gods, and adorned it with the most costly 
 jewels. You see, she was firmly fixed in her 
 heathenish practices. 
 
 "Well, one day she saw one of the faithful 
 Bible-women of our mission school, and, after 
 asking some questions, she said she would like 
 to study the English language. She was very 
 bright, having a mind similar to her father's. 
 Our missionaries agreed to go to her and teach 
 her Scripture-lessons from the Bible. Her 
 people did not like that; but she told them she 
 simply wanted to learn English, and, as far as
 
 Nannette in the Home 125 
 
 the Scripture-lessons from the Bible were con 
 cerned, they would go in one ear and out the 
 other. 
 
 "For a year and a half they went there and 
 taught her; and she cared nothing for the Bible ; 
 but by and by she began to read it herself, and 
 understand it, and O, what a change came 
 then ! 
 
 "Quietly but steadily she grew more inter 
 ested, and her earnestness for idol-worship began 
 to die down. Her people noticed she did not 
 go as often to her temple, and when they urged 
 her to go to the temple to have a golden image 
 of herself made there, in prostration before an 
 idol, she put them off, and said, 'You will have 
 to wait about that.' For the sake of appearances 
 she went on saying her prayers to her gods, but 
 her heart was no longer in them. As suspicion 
 grew in her mother's heart, she ordered the mis 
 sionaries not to come to their home again. 
 
 "They did not go again, but the girl kept her 
 Bible and read it in secret, and after some months 
 of struggle she wrote a letter to one of the mis 
 sionaries, telling how very unhappy she was
 
 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 that although she was obliged to go on with the 
 outer forms of idolatry, she had given it all up 
 in her heart, and was looking to Jesus to save 
 her. 
 
 "The missionaries could only pray for her at 
 a distance; but she, becoming strong in the 
 Spirit of the Lord, began to refuse idol-worship. 
 Then her friends tried to send her to a distant 
 city. She refused to go, and as they urged her 
 more and more she made up her mind to run 
 away, and leave forever all she had ever known 
 for the sake of Jesus. So one day she made all 
 her preparations. She put in boxes her silk 
 clothes and her jewels, her eating and drinking 
 vessels, and all her many treasures. 
 
 "She wept sadly as she sealed up her most 
 beautiful things, and then went and told her 
 mother where she could find them. Her mother, 
 being surprised, asked her very lovingly if she 
 thought of going away anywhere. She evaded 
 the question; but that night she looked at all 
 the large family in her magnificent home for the 
 last time. Quietly, when the stars began to 
 shine, she opened the door, and slipped out.
 
 Nannette in the Home 127 
 
 "Can you imagine how that poor, dear girl 
 felt? She told the missionary teacher after 
 wards: 'I went out into the darkness with only 
 the stars above me, and I did not know where 
 nor how it was going to be. But a voice in my 
 heart told me to run, and I ran. At your gate 
 here I stopped. Then and there I offered a 
 prayer, and told God I might be dragged back 
 on the streets, and I might have to endure per 
 secution, trial, and hardship; but I asked him 
 just to keep me faithful to himself, and I would 
 be willing to bear anything.' Was that not won 
 derful, dear children? Well, that truly noble- 
 hearted girl did endure severe persecution. 
 Some of the authorities of the Government came 
 after her, and although the mission teachers were 
 very much concerned, both for their own and 
 her safety, God saved them from all evil. 
 
 "The greatest trial for the girl was when her 
 poor mother and grandmother and husband 
 came beseeching and praying her to return to 
 them; but she steadily, though with tears in her 
 eyes, refused, saying, 'I will choose poverty and 
 Jesus to all else without him.' They then threat-
 
 128 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 ened her, and with awful wailing brought down 
 the curses of their gods upon her if she did not 
 go back with them; but like a rock that young 
 girl stood firm for the Lord then and ever since 
 then, and although poor in worldly goods, she 
 is rich in the grace of the Lord, and is doing a 
 wonderful work for him in India to-day. The 
 once proud, petted, wealthy Brahman became a 
 poor, friendless, homeless girl for the sake of 
 Jesus. What do you think of this heathen girl, 
 children, for a real heroine?" 
 
 "O, she was great!" cried several. 
 
 "I 'm going to be a missionary," said one 
 little fellow; and others said they wished all of 
 them could be missionaries, every one. 
 
 But the band-wagon, just then approaching, 
 turned their attention in another direction. I 
 hurried in the house to get ready some fruits 
 and cuts of cake to send to little friends who 
 could not come. I glanced at the group a mo 
 ment as I stood on the veranda, before breaking 
 up the party. The picture fastened itself on my 
 mind. Nannette's chair was surrounded by chil-
 
 Nannette in the Home 129 
 
 dren. She looked radiant as she sat there, 
 with the leaves waving over her head, letting 
 in stray gleams of sunshine that ornamented 
 her as with lines of jewels here and there. The 
 green lawn was dotted with the upspringing life 
 of flowers, and in the distance could be heard the 
 sea, plashing around the rocks with the soft 
 murmuring noise of a July calm. When the chil 
 dren had said their "good-byes" and gone, Nan 
 nette was rolled into the house, and I insisted 
 on her lying down. 
 
 "Why do you want me to lie down?" she pro 
 tested, as she smilingly obeyed. "If I ever do 
 die, it will certainly be of blessings ; for the good 
 Lord just showers me with them until I hardly 
 have room enough under -them to look up and 
 say, 'Thank you.' " 
 
 I gave her a hurried kiss and went out, leav 
 ing her alone. 
 
 In the weeks that followed, I thought I could 
 see her growing weaker. Sometimes in the 
 midst of talking she would stop suddenly as if 
 her heart had ceased to beat. But she only 
 
 9
 
 130 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 smiled if we made any reference to it, as she 
 went through the days with her 
 
 " Eyes upturned 
 As if life were one long and sweet surprise." 
 
 One day as we were sitting alone together, 
 she said suddenly: 
 
 "I want to make my will while I think of it, 
 right here and now, Jeanie. Will you please go 
 to my desk and write for me as I dictate?" 
 
 Then followed a long list of names, not only 
 of relatives and friends, but of many needy per 
 sons, and persons whom she had been the means 
 of saving. To each of these she gave something 
 in the way of money or books, or some personal 
 keepsake. It was just like her, I thought, to re 
 member each one with his and her individual 
 needs. 
 
 "The greatest pleasure, really, in having 
 things," she said, as she looked over the paper, 
 "is to be able to give them away." 
 
 Her father staid at home most of the time that 
 summer and fall. He seemed never to want to 
 be away from her side. My heart ached for him; 
 for I knew she was dearer to him than any one
 
 Nannette in the Home 131 
 
 else in the world, and I knew she could not re 
 main with us long. 
 
 One evening-, Nannette and I were sitting in 
 the study after a very busy day. I had been at 
 the mission that morning, and the mail had been 
 large, so we were the entire afternoon reading 
 letters, and answering the most important ones. 
 I could see she was weary, and asked her if she 
 had not better lie down. 
 
 "No," she said, "I feel so much better sit 
 ting up." 
 
 "You look weary," I remarked. 
 
 "O, my body always feels weary if I stop to 
 think about it; but," she added, smiling, "I 
 won't stop." 
 
 What a contrast, I thought, is this perennial 
 cheerfulness to the gloom of former years ! Dur 
 ing the five years of Nannette' s girlhood, when 
 she was confined to her bed of suffering, every 
 day was darkened with complaint and rebellion ; 
 but since that time, in all the perplexities and 
 trials of a very busy life, and one that held many 
 disappointments, no word of complaint ever es 
 caped her lips. She was uniformly cheerful and
 
 132 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 brave. I never knew one whose sympathies 
 were keener for the sorrows of humanity than 
 were hers, and yet nothing sweeter and more 
 angelic than her Christian faith and devotion 
 could have been in human being. 
 
 She was saying to me one evening in the 
 library : 
 
 "Jean, did you ever think how full of serene 
 leisure our Lord's life was? He served so long 
 an apprenticeship of patience before his ministry 
 began, and through all the crowded days of heal 
 ing and controversy he never became hurried or 
 excited. Just think of it too high, too strong, 
 too set apart to lose one's balance, no matter 
 what comes. How the poor turbulent world 
 needs him!" 
 
 Her father came in, and sitting down near 
 her said he wanted to ask her a question, and 
 added : 
 
 "I do n't know what I should do if I did not 
 have you to ask about things." 
 
 "Well, father dear," she replied, "I frequently 
 have to ask Another before I can answer you, 
 and when you no longer have me to bring per-
 
 Nannette in the Home 133 
 
 plexing questions to, you can go direct to Head 
 quarters. Is n't it wonderful that we can all do 
 so, and the most wonderful part of it is that it is 
 worth while?" 
 
 Her father made no response, and presently 
 she asked him to turn on the gas, and she said : 
 
 "I read such a beautiful sermon this morn 
 ing. Won't you let me give you a little extract 
 from it? I thought it well worth copying." 
 
 "Let 's hear it," he said. 
 
 She took a sheet of paper out of her Bible 
 that was lying on the table, and read from it: 
 
 "Christ was first to urge the race onward 
 toward happiness. Other teachers had come 
 and had said, 'Be learned,' 'Be stoical,' 'Be am 
 bitious ;' but it was reserved for the Son of man 
 to say, 'Be happy.' His was the first system that 
 began and ended with a benediction. It is one 
 of the wonders of history that in an atmosphere 
 which had been kept full of the dust of battle 
 fields and the noise of falling cities, an air which 
 had echoed to the creed of Draco and Lycurgus, 
 had vibrated with the curses of master and 
 groans of slaves; that down through this same
 
 134 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 air should have come words so undreamed of 
 and so sweet. The song of 'Peace on earth' was 
 not the result of battle-fields of Greek, Roman, 
 or Hebrew; it was not proclaimed by kings 
 whose feet had been on the necks of mankind; 
 but down from upper realms it came from that 
 happy country of God, in whose atmosphere 
 there is no dust of battle-fields, and on whose 
 ground there falls no tear." 
 
 "The whole sermon," she added, as she placed 
 the paper back in her Bible, "was beautiful ; but 
 I just copied this paragraph because it struck 
 me as so forceful that the Lord wants us to be 
 happy." She rolled her chair up close by her 
 father, and continued : "Do n't think I am always 
 preaching, father dear, because I 'm not ; but of 
 late I have known, as well as you have, that I 
 must soon turn the curve. I have waited 
 longer now than our physician said I could, and 
 I am glad to wait ; but you see, father, I can not 
 lose an opportunity when I am with you to try 
 to show you how real these things are." 
 
 "It 's all right, my child," he said, "and I do 
 get some comfort in the thought of them."
 
 Nannette in the Home 135 
 
 Nannette leaned her head lovingly against 
 his shoulder, and we sat silently listening to the 
 hum of insect life through the open window and 
 the never-ceasing murmur of the sea. 
 
 As the shadows deepened, and she read, as 
 was her custom, a few verses from the Bible, 
 and we knelt for evening worship, we three 
 seemed to be lifted into a higher atmosphere, 
 and her prayer for the time to be verified, "Let 
 the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us."
 
 vi 
 
 PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERING 
 
 "The way is dark, my Father. Cloud on cloud 
 Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud 
 The thunders roar above me. See, I stand 
 Like one bewildered. Father, take my hand, 
 And through the gloom, 
 Lead safely home 
 
 Thy child. 
 
 The cross is heavy, Father. I have borne 
 It long, and still do bear it. Let my worn 
 And fainting spirit rise to that blest land 
 Where crowns are given. Father, take my hand, 
 And reaching down, 
 Lead to the crown 
 
 Thy child." 
 
 HENRY U. COBB. 
 
 As THE fall months drew nigh that year, Nan- 
 nette grew weaker, and her physician and friends 
 urged her to discontinue even her Bible-readings. 
 The last one she ever gave was especially for 
 invalids, who could know of no great deeds they 
 had done, no great work accomplished. She re 
 quested her invalid friends, as far as possible, to 
 136
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 137 
 
 be present that day. Her heart went out with 
 much warmth of feeling to those who see life as 
 "through a glass darkly," and she wanted her last 
 general talk to be a word of comfort to them. 
 
 She was sitting that afternoon, propped up 
 with pillows, on the couch in the library, and a 
 number of friends were gathered in the room 
 and hall adjoining. They all knew her and loved 
 her, and it was a little home talk that God used 
 in the blessing of many hearts that day. 
 
 Before opening her Bible she said she wanted 
 to say some things that had been in her heart to 
 say a long while. "It is very wonderful and in 
 spiring," she began, "to read of and to know 
 invalids who have done a large work in the 
 world. We read with gratitude of the work 
 done by Bella Cooke, of New York City. Most 
 of you are familiar with her life-story, and know 
 that although she has been bedridden for more 
 than thirty-five years, she has done a great char 
 itable work. Many people of wealth are attracted 
 toward her by her beautiful Christian fortitude, 
 and, largely through means given her by them, 
 she has, by self-appointed committees and man-
 
 138 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 agers, fed and clothed many hundreds of poor 
 and needy, and been the means of bringing large 
 numbers to Christ every year. No less beauti 
 ful was the work of dear Jennie Casseday, of 
 Louisville, Ky. I have spoken to some of you 
 about her noble work of starting the Flower 
 Mission, and of how it was taken up by the Wo 
 man's Christian Temperance Union, and became 
 a national department of that work, with Miss 
 Casseday as superintendent. We have also 
 spoken of her work at Rest Cottage near Louis 
 ville. In a letter received recently from Miss 
 Frances Willard, she speaks of Miss Casseday's 
 work as one of the most beautiful she has ever 
 known. 
 
 "There are many other invalids that might be 
 mentioned, whose lives have been prominent in 
 good works; but, while we should not forget 
 these, we must remember there has been a serv 
 ice rendered to the world by hidden and un 
 known ones also, God's nameless heroes who 
 have become perfect through suffering. No one 
 who has not experienced it, as some of you have, 
 can realize the desolation of those who can make
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 139 
 
 no plans for the future, who can dream of no 
 sweetness in the past, but whose entire thought 
 is absorbed in immediate struggle with the pres 
 ent. More than one invalid friend has said to 
 me, when I have sat near her bedside or invalid 
 chair, that the greatest grief of all was the con 
 sciousness that she was only a burden to her 
 friends, and no help to any one. How my heart 
 aches for all these dear ones! We frequently 
 hear it said that great mental struggle is more 
 severe than any physical pain ; but that statement 
 could not be made by any one who has had ex 
 perience. Some of us know how hard it is for 
 the mind to have freedom, when the body is 
 racked with pain. The most we can do, is to 
 demand of ourselves to endure. 
 
 "There are seasons when to be still demands 
 greater strength than to act, and is the greatest 
 proof of our trust in God. It was the obedience 
 of Abraham that immortalized him, and not any 
 philanthropic or benevolent work he did, in his 
 land or among his people, no matter how sweet 
 or acceptable a privilege that sort of service is. 
 It was the prayer of wrestling Jacob, and the re-
 
 140 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 suits of that prayer in his own soul, that have 
 come down to us through the centuries. 
 
 "So let us not feel that God's work is done 
 altogether by those who are known as Christian 
 philanthropists. There is a service of patient 
 submission and uncomplaining lips to render 
 him, and he himself will give the reward; for 
 earth's measurements are too meager for such 
 service. 
 
 "One dear invalid mother I knew, a Meth 
 odist minister's wife, felt when her affliction came 
 that she must have health. The family was poor. 
 Her husband's salary hardly provided them with 
 the necessities of life, and they had three little 
 children. Those children would come to her and 
 beg her to get out of bed and do for them, and 
 when they were forbidden that by their father, 
 their little pinched, mute faces spoke louder than 
 any words could to that loving mother's heart, 
 and she clenched her hands hidden under the 
 covers, and turned her face away in an agony 
 of prayer to God for help and for restoration to 
 health, if it could be his will. Yet it did not come. 
 
 "She saw her baby, from neglect and expos-
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 141 
 
 ure, get sick, and as he lay at night moaning 
 with fever, and she could not even raise herself 
 to wait upon him, her anguish of soul was in 
 tense. And yet God gave her the grace to say : 
 'My Father, thy will be done. Thou knowest 
 what all this means to me. No human being can 
 know. Let my lips only glorify Christ through 
 all my sufferings.' She has been in bed for years 
 now ; but God has still preserved all her children, 
 and she has been able to teach them how to have 
 the care of themselves; and her husband re 
 ceives from her, as he goes out to his arduous 
 labors, a smile and a 'God bless you.' 
 
 "But where such grace is not abounding in 
 the heart, or, when one suffers alone and with 
 out the consolations of love, the test is so much 
 the more severe to be poor, and sick, and alone. 
 How one longs then to be loved and sheltered 
 to be tenderly cared for and blessed ! But often 
 there are no hands lifted in love to soothe the 
 aching brow, and no arms ready to enfold. 
 
 "If you can look up to God with a smile of 
 submission when your life is stripped of all earth 
 holds dear, you have surely reached the high-
 
 142 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 water mark of Christian experience. He does 
 not trust everybody with a great sorrow, but oc 
 casionally he finds a soul that can suffer the loss 
 of all earthly possessions, all friends, and even 
 health, and yet with a triumphant faith look up 
 and say, 'Though he slay me, yet will I trust in 
 him.' It was thus with Job, and God himself 
 flashes the searchlight of the ages upon him, 
 and he stands out sublime. 
 
 "I want to read you a few extracts from the 
 diary of a heroine. This diary was found in an 
 attic chamber of a poor man's house, and had 
 belonged to a sick old woman. God's standards 
 of exaltation are not man's, we must remember. 
 She was a semi-invalid, and her home was with 
 her only son and his wife. Both the son and 
 wife were Church members, and nominally 
 Christians. Yet her life was one of distresses 
 and impositions that amounted to cruelty. Al 
 though she felt the infirmities of age, she was 
 superior in mind and heart to any with whom 
 she came in contact year after year. 
 
 "No one ever seemed to think of visiting her, 
 and she could not get out any farther than in
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 143 
 
 the small yard surrounding their cottage. When 
 she was able to go about the house she was 
 given the drudgery to do, even the ironing and 
 scrubbing. When it was apparent she was too 
 ill for that, she was expected to mend the cloth 
 ing and knit the hosiery. But even this hard 
 labor was not what caused the sorrow of her 
 heart and life. It was the fact that no one loved 
 her no one ever gave her a word of sympathy, 
 even when she was prostrate with rheumatism 
 for weeks at a time. It had been years since any 
 one had given her a kiss or a word of tenderness, 
 and being old and feeble she longed for these 
 things many times. 
 
 "She was fond of books, and had always cared 
 for the best things ; but if she had been the most 
 ignorant slave, less attention could not have been 
 paid to her heart's needs. Yet she had one prize 
 that no one else in the house especially valued 
 the Bible. Amid all her losses and deprivations 
 she had found the pearl of great price, and it 
 meant more to her than all else besides. As she 
 needed some expression for the tide of feeling 
 that still ran high, though her years numbered
 
 144 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 threescore, she kept a diary that furnished some 
 outlet for her aching heart and gave her strength. 
 This diary she intended to destroy before her 
 death; but some how or other it did not get 
 destroyed. We copied from it a few extracts, 
 and I will read them to you." She then read 
 from a few sheets of paper she had in her hand. 
 "Nov. loth. I am so tired to-night, Heav 
 enly Father; but I 've come to my dear old Book 
 for rest. It helps me so to speak out, if it 's only 
 to a blank book. I thought this morning as I 
 sat ironing the children's clothes, of my morning 
 verse: 'They that wait on the Lord shall renew 
 their strength. They shall mount up with wings 
 as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they 
 shall walk and not faint.' So I am waiting on 
 the Lord waiting, waiting; and how it does 
 help me to forget my weariness and pain! I 
 thought for a while this morning that my back 
 would give way entirely, and then when Ann 
 came in and said, as she saw me sitting down: 
 'Well, granny, you do take things easy. Sittin' 
 down to iron ! The next thing I s'pose you '11 
 bring the old bed in here and lie down at it.
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 145 
 
 Some folks haint got no ambition, no ways.' 
 It just made my back hurt worse ; but I did not 
 say anything, and I must not think anything 
 now, either. No, no, I '11 forgive and forget. 
 Just the telling it out helps me to forgive and 
 forget. Lord, do n't let me be annoyed at little 
 things they 're all little things there 's only 
 one big thing in my life, and that is Thy love for 
 me. It 's everything to me. 
 
 "Dec. 24th. How well I remember this night 
 twenty-five years ago! It was a sweet little 
 home if it was plain, and my Henry was a true 
 husband. We had our ups and downs; but 
 neither of us ever talked really harsh to the other. 
 How I loved you, dear Henry, and that Christ 
 mas eve of long ago, after we had fixed the can 
 dies and nuts in the children's stockings, and 
 arranged their presents, how well I remember 
 your smile and kiss, as you handed me the me 
 rino dress-pattern, and said, 'I want to see how 
 pretty your black eyes will look when you get 
 this on, wifie !' I do n't know what makes me 
 think of these foolish things so long ago, so long 
 ago ; but somehow I love to think of them. 
 
 10
 
 146 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 "How sweet John did look in his little new 
 suit that Christmas ! Ah, my boy, if I could just 
 carry you back to the way you were that night. 
 How I loved you and watched over you in sick 
 ness for days and nights, and how I tried to help 
 you in all your troubles ; and yet now, John, you 
 and Ann never think of your old mother. But, 
 never mind, you only forget, my boy O yes, 
 you only forget. That 's all everybody does 
 they only forget. Father, bless them all, forgive 
 them and love them and send peace to their 
 hearts to all our hearts. How very tired I am ! 
 How I wish I had some one to fix my bed ! 
 
 "Jan. 4th. How precious is my Bible to 
 me to-day! The Holy Spirit just seemed to il 
 luminate every page as I read. Praise His name ! 
 I can endure. I 'm sure I can. I even sang as 
 I did up the kitchen work this morning. Give 
 me more breath to sing, O Thou, 
 
 Rock of Ages, cleft for me ; 
 Let me hide myself in thee.' 
 
 I hope I '11 never utter a word of complaint, nor 
 try to defend myself against anybody or any 
 thing, ever. Thou art my all in all. I know it
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 147 
 
 won't be long now. I seek a habitation 'a 
 house not made with hands, eternal in the 
 heavens.' ' 
 
 "Below this she had copied these verses: 
 
 " 'The cross that He gave may be heavy, 
 
 But it ne'er outweighs His grace; 
 The storm that I feared may surround me, 
 But it ne'er excludes His face. 
 
 The thorns in my path are not sharper 
 Than composed His crown for me ; 
 
 The cup that I drink, not more bitter 
 Than He drank in Gethsemane. 
 
 His will I have joy in fulfilling 
 
 As I'm walking in His sight; 
 My all to His cross I am bringing 
 
 It alone can keep me right' 
 
 And thus this dear Christian soul went on to 
 the end, bearing her cross with uncomplaining 
 lips. 
 
 "We know there are many heroes walking a 
 similar path, and let those who neglect them, 
 especially where they are of the household of 
 faith, remember that Christ said : 'Woe unto him 
 by whom these offenses come. It were better 
 for him that a millstone were hanged about his 
 neck, and that he were cast into the sea.' But
 
 148 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 unto those who faithfully care for his needy 
 ones, he says again, 'Inasmuch as ye have done 
 it unto one of the least of these, ye have done 
 it unto me.' ' 
 
 She paused a moment, and then continued: 
 "Dear friends, it is hard for me to give up 
 these weekly Bible-readings and talks with you. 
 They have been a great blessing to my own 
 heart and life, as I have held them here for 
 more than eight years ; but it is thought best that 
 I should discontinue them now, and whatever is 
 an indication of Providence, it is my duty and 
 privilege to obey. It is possible I may not see 
 some of you again, and I feel loath to leave you. 
 Sad experiences may come to some of us before 
 the 'daybreak' on the other side ; but when that 
 time is come, we will look back at our lives here, 
 and I am sure we shall not regret anything we 
 suffered for His sake. Does it seem strange to 
 think of our going out into the untried regions? 
 How must it seem to the eaglet when he leaves 
 his nest? But with the leaving he finds his wings 
 are sufficient, though he had not tried them be 
 fore. Do you suppose after he tastes the free-
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 149 
 
 dom of God's high air, and has had the lofty 
 range of vision, he could be persuaded to return 
 to his nest in the rocky clefts his nest of sticks 
 and straw? No more could we, dear heart." 
 
 She paused again, and then opened her Bible, 
 and spreading out upon it several sheets of paper 
 upon which she had closely written, said : "I want 
 to leave with you, as our last Bible-reading to 
 gether, the words of God to his children, with 
 out any human comment. These passages I 
 have selected are, as you will see, from different 
 parts of the Bible; but I think it is perfectly 
 legitimate to arrange them in this order, as they 
 express only the cry of the human heart, and the 
 answer in God's own Word. Some one has said, 
 'Affliction is like the wind, that blows one vessel 
 to destruction, and another into port.' It de 
 pends upon the rejection or acceptance of the 
 Word. 
 
 " "Thus saith the Lord : Hearken unto me. 
 Ye have seen how I bare you on eagle's wings 
 and brought you to myself. Now if ye will obey 
 my voice and hearken unto my commandments, 
 and love the Lord your God with all your heart
 
 I 5 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 and with all your soul and with all your mind 
 and with all your strength, then shall ye be a 
 peculiar treasure unto me, and I will be your 
 God and ye shall be my sons and daughters, 
 saith the Lord Almighty.' 
 
 " 'But O, my God, how great is thy afflic 
 tion ! Terrors are turned upon me, they pursue 
 my soul as the wind, and my welfare passeth 
 away as a cloud. My bones are pierced in me 
 in the night season, and my sinews take no rest.' 
 
 " 'Yet hear my voice when thou passest 
 through the waters I will be with thee, and 
 through the rivers they shall not overflow thee; 
 when thou walkest through the fire thou shalt 
 not be burned, for I am the Lord, thy God, the 
 Holy One of Israel, thy Savior.' 
 
 ' 'When shall I know of thy salvation, O my 
 God? My days are like a shadow that declineth, 
 and I am withered like grass. When I lie down 
 I say, When shall I arise and the night be gone? 
 and I am full of tossings to and fro until the 
 dawning of the day. Hear my cry, for I am 
 brought very low; bring my soul out of prison 
 and attend unto the voice of my supplications.
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 151 
 
 Be not silent unto me, lest I be like those that go 
 down into the pit.' 
 
 " 'Fear not, for I, even I, am He that com- 
 forteth thee : I will heal thee, I will lead thee, and 
 restore comforts unto thee.' 
 
 " 'But lo, false witnesses have arisen up 
 against me, O Lord! They have laid to my 
 charge things that I knew not: they rewarded 
 me evil for good to the spoiling of my soul. 
 Yea, mine own familiar friend in whom I trusted, 
 which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his 
 heel against me. I am bowed with sorrow. My 
 soul has long dwelt with him that hateth peace, 
 and my heart is smitten. I am as a sparrow alone 
 upon the housetop. My harp also is turned to 
 mourning and my organ into the voice of them 
 that weep.' 
 
 " 'Who art thou that thou shouldst be afraid 
 of a man that shall die, and of the son of man 
 that shall be made as grass, and forgettest the 
 Lord that hath stretched forth the heavens and 
 laid the foundations of the earth? Lift up your 
 eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth 
 beneath ; for the heaven shall vanish away like
 
 152 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a gar 
 ment, and they that dwell therein shall die in 
 like manner; but my salvation shall be forever 
 and my righteousness shall not be abolished.' 
 " 'Yea, O Lord, righteous art thou, yet let me 
 talk with thee of thy judgments. My spirit is 
 overwhelmed within me. I remember the days 
 of old. Thou didst make me to hope. I rejoiced 
 as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, 
 and as a strong man to run a race. My years 
 have passed. I was young, and now am old. My 
 purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of 
 my heart. I make my bed in darkness, and 
 where is now my hope? Wherefore doth the 
 way of the wicked prosper? Wherefore, Lord, 
 are they happy that deal treacherously? While 
 my days are consumed as grass, I am poured 
 out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. 
 I may tell all my bones, they look and stare upon 
 me. Judge me, for I have walked in integrity. 
 I have hated the congregation of evil doers ; yet 
 they flourish like a green bay-tree, and my grief 
 hath no end. How long, O Lord, how long? 
 O that one might plead with God as a man
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 153 
 
 pleadeth with his neighbor! O that I knew 
 where I might find him, that I might come even 
 to his seat ! I would order my cause before him, 
 and fill my mouth with arguments.' 
 
 " 'Be still, and know that I am God. Shall 
 he that contendeth with the Almighty instruct 
 him? Canst thou by searching find out God? 
 Canst thou find out the Almighty to perfection? 
 Behold I show you a great mystery. It be 
 hooved Him in bringing many sons to glory to 
 make the Captain of their salvation perfect 
 through suffering. The servant is not greater 
 than his Lord; who, being in the form of God, 
 thought it not robbery to be equal with God; 
 but made himself of no reputation, and took 
 upon him the form of a servant, and being found 
 in fashion as a man he humbled himself and be 
 came obedient unto death, even the death of the 
 cross. He was despised and rejected of men a 
 Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He 
 was oppressed. He was afflicted. He was 
 clothed with a vesture dipped in blood. Think 
 it not strange concerning the fiery trial which 
 is to try you, as though some strange thing hap-
 
 154 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 pened unto you, but rejoice inasmuch as ye are 
 partakers of Christ's sufferings, that when his 
 glory shall be revealed ye may be glad also with 
 exceeding joy.' 
 
 " 'What shall I answer Thee, O most High? 
 I will lay my hand upon my mouth. Mine afflic 
 tion hath caused me sorrow, and in my sorrow 
 have I sinned. What shall I do unto Thee, O 
 Thou Preserver of men.' 
 
 " 'Gird up thy loins like a man. Remember 
 not the former things, neither consider the things 
 of old. Behold, I will do a new thing: now it 
 shall spring forth. I will make a way in the 
 wilderness, and rivers in the desert. And sorrow 
 and sighing shall flee away. Be sober, and hope 
 to the end. I will never leave thee nor forsake 
 thee. I have called thee by thy name. Thou art 
 mine.' 
 
 " 'O Lord, thou art very merciful ! Thy grace 
 is abundant. Thy love putteth strength in my 
 heart, as one whom his mother comforteth.' 
 
 ' 'Behold, I have refined thee, but not with 
 silver ; I have chosen thee in the furnace of afflic 
 tion. I have graven thee upon the palms of my
 
 Perfect Through Suffering 155 
 
 hands. Fear not, for I have redeemed thee. I 
 am the Lord, thy Holy One, the Creator of 
 Israel, thy King. Verily I say unto you, In the 
 world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good 
 cheer, I have overcome the world. Not as the 
 world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your 
 heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. He 
 that overcometh shall inherit all things, and I 
 will be his God and he shall be my son. I go 
 to prepare a place for you; and if I go I will 
 come again and receive you unto myself, that 
 where I am, there ye may be also. And there 
 shall be no night there, and God shall wipe away 
 all tears, and there shall be no more death, 
 neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there 
 be any more pain, for the former things are 
 passed away.' 
 
 " 'O, praise the Lord ! Let everything that 
 hath breath praise the Lord. How unsearchable 
 are his riches, and his ways past finding out! 
 Though the sorrows of death compassed me and 
 the pains of hell gat hold upon me, yet the Lord 
 hath delivered me. I shall not fear. I took upon 
 myself to speak to the Almighty, which am but
 
 156 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 dust and ashes, and he hath heard my cry and 
 brought me out, and set my feet upon a rock 
 and put a new song into my mouth. I will re 
 member my affliction no more. I know now on 
 whom I have believed. I run not as uncer 
 tainly ; so fight I not as one that beateth the air, 
 for the Lord is my light and my salvation. He 
 is the strength of my life. Who is God save 
 the Lord? And who is a Rock save our God? 
 Most gladly will I suffer that the power of 
 Christ may be made manifest in -me. I am ready 
 not to be bound only, but also to die for the 
 name of the Lord Jesus. Who shall separate us 
 from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or 
 distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, 
 or peril, or sword? Nay, in all these things we 
 are more than conquerors through Him that 
 loved us. For I am persuaded that neither 
 death, nor life, nor principalities, nor powers, 
 nor things present, nor things to come, nor 
 height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall 
 be able to separate us from the love of God which 
 is in Jesus Christ our Lord.' "
 
 Chapter vn 
 
 TURNING THE CURVE 
 
 " Hush, I pray you ! 
 What if this friend happen to be God?" 
 
 BROWNING. 
 
 IT was full autumn, and one of those perfect 
 seasons that seem the climax, and at the same 
 time the conclusion, of the perfect year. The 
 days came and went without the threatening of 
 a cloud, without a breath of unfriendly air. 
 Auburn Place never looked more like a delight 
 ful home. Potted palms and hardy plants 
 adorned the front lawn and verandas, and the 
 ivy, with its pretty leaves all silvered with dew, 
 covered the low stone wall. The very noises all 
 around the place had a heart of peace within 
 them. 
 
 From the south and west windows in Nan- 
 nette's room we could see the softly-undulating 
 hills in the distance, and the heavy foliage of the 
 maples and oaks, made rich with fall tints stand- 
 is?
 
 158 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 ing out against the blue background of the sky ; 
 from the opposite window we could watch the 
 sea the untiring, ceaseless motion of the sea. 
 Each cloudless October day it lay shining and 
 dimpled in the afternoon light, and we would 
 frequently sit and watch the white gulls slowly 
 waving their wings through the clear air, and 
 the soft moving sails of the ships coming and 
 going. We saw the beauty of nature mostly 
 from within doors ; but even there we saw it, and 
 felt it, and rejoiced in it. 
 
 Nannette had not left her room for more than 
 a fortnight and much of that time was spent 
 on her bed, yet she sang in little low song-mur 
 murs the days she had any breath to sing, and 
 talked of the ripening world not the fading 
 world, for the earth does not fade in autumn. 
 It is in its glory of maturity then, and moves at a 
 majestic climax. 
 
 "I know, Jeanie," she said one day, "that I 
 am going home before long, and I am glad it will 
 be in the fall of the year. I love the fall. I want 
 this body that has carried me about for so many 
 years to be covered with its crimson and gold."
 
 Turning the Curve 159 
 
 "O Nannette !" I replied, trying to choke back 
 the tears. "It will turn the crimson and gold 
 into ashes for me." 
 
 "No indeed, no indeed; I never want you to 
 say that. You '11 have your life in the future, 
 and I know it will be brave and true ; and as for 
 me, Jeanie, I 'm tired, and I want to go home. 
 Can't you be glad with me?" 
 
 "Dear one," I said, and laid my hand on hers, 
 so thin and white. 
 
 Love and pain had so sweetened and ripened 
 her character that she seemed to me as perfect 
 as any human could be. She had had sore trials 
 in her life too ; trials that I have not introduced 
 into this little book, partly because they were 
 kept sacredly close by her; but "every heart 
 knoweth its own bitterness," and there were 
 some trials that came, to her, severe enough to 
 have undermined the faith of a weaker Christian, 
 yet they never caused her to murmur. She had 
 once and forever given her will over to God, 
 and from that day it was a fixed and settled mat 
 ter with her that everything touching her life 
 was allowed by Him, and therefore accepted by
 
 160 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 her. If she could not rejoice in the things them 
 selves, she rejoiced in the Lord who let them 
 come and stood still until they were passed by. 
 
 I have known her to pray for her youngest 
 brother, who had always been peculiarly dear to 
 her, until her spirit wrestled with God as did that 
 of Jacob, and yet the very stones could not have 
 been harder or colder than was his heart. The 
 sorrows of humanity weighed heavily upon her. 
 I have seen her entreat, and reason and pray 
 with those whose spirits were blockaded by sin. 
 She felt as every earnest Christian must feel, who 
 comes in touch with the heart of humanity, the 
 awful tragedy of life without God. Yet amid all 
 her heartaches for others, and amid the crowded 
 days of work, there was always an atmosphere 
 of peace pervading her presence, and one could 
 not be with her without feeling it. 
 
 She knew now that her active life was draw 
 ing to a close, and sometimes her eyes would 
 fill with tears as she thought of some poor, needy 
 one she could no longer help. 
 
 "If I could only see poor John Drake," she 
 would say, "and know that he is faithful;" or,
 
 Turning the Curve 161 
 
 "How I wish I could hear from Mary Davis! 
 She is one of God's brave poor." 
 
 Almost daily she would ask me to write some 
 message of love or cheer to the children at the 
 industrial schools, or to some others she tenderly 
 loved. 
 
 "How I wish the world had Christ," she said 
 one day, "the rich and the poor, the high and 
 the low ! They wrestle and strive and struggle 
 in their various spheres for the mere privilege 
 of existence, and yet they make no effort to in 
 sure for themselves a life eternal. How sad it is ! 
 Yet the day will come when the Divine One shall 
 see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied. I 
 wish I could live over my girlhood days again 
 with what I have learned these latter years. I 
 would give them all to Christ everything to 
 him. I 've looked in at every door ; but surely 
 when the whole tale is told there is nothing like 
 love to God and service to his creatures." 
 
 The burden of souls seemed to weigh upon 
 her during those last weeks of her life. She 
 talked of scarcely anything else except how this 
 one or that one might be reached by the gift of
 
 1 6s Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 God's Word, or by personal appeals, or other 
 means. I remember how thankful she was at 
 this time to receive letters of sympathy and love 
 from Christian workers, assuring her that the 
 work was going prosperously on. One from 
 Mr. Snyder, the superintendent of the mission, 
 ran thus: 
 
 DEAR Miss HUNTINGTON, 1 hear with 
 much sorrow of your serious illness. I know it 
 will be a consolation to you to learn that the 
 evening services now being held at East Street 
 Mission are largely attended, and much interest 
 manifested. Last night there were thirty-five 
 people in the inquiry-room earnestly seeking 
 God. One man said he had not been in a re 
 ligious meeting before for twenty years, but he 
 was determined now to take a start in the right 
 direction, and bring his family with him. Surely 
 God is with us in this mission work that your 
 honored mother so nobly started here, and that 
 you have worked in so faithfully. We all love 
 you and miss you sadly ; but our earnest prayers 
 are offered daily for God's choicest blessings to 
 rest upon you and yours." 
 
 When I had finished reading, she said, as the 
 tears filled her eyes: 
 
 "How wonderful it is, Jean, that God ever
 
 Turning the Curve 163 
 
 allowed me to engage in work for him ! I often 
 think of it. There was absolutely nothing to 
 recommend me to his favor, and yet all these 
 years past he has been revealing to me, more 
 and more, the miracle of his grace in the re 
 demption of a human soul, giving me more and 
 more light, more and more peace. Sometimes 
 in my intense longing for the salvation of those 
 I love, especially of my own kindred, I say, 'Well, 
 perhaps this heartache is just a taste of the bitter 
 cup that he drank for humanity, and I have been 
 permitted to have fellowship with his sufferings 
 in a very small degree, so that some day, some 
 where, I may be partaker of his glory.' Is n't 
 it wonderful, Jeanie, that the infinite God would 
 be our Father and take us into partnership with 
 himself in this travail for souls?" 
 
 "I don't believe, Nannette," I said, "that 
 most Christians are yoked together with Him in 
 sorrow for the sins of the world. They are 
 Christians who will be saved, I suppose ; but they 
 'sit on crimson thrones,' as George MacDonald 
 says, and look down on the sufferings of their 
 brothers and sisters below without any 'inward
 
 164 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 pain.' They are too selfish to be especially con 
 cerned about the things that do not immediately 
 touch them. 
 
 "Well, it is their loss; for, Jean, either the 
 Christian life is everything a philosophy, a sci 
 ence, an art, a religion entering into all avenues 
 of thought that engage the human mind or it 
 is nothing. It is either the high thing of com 
 panionship with the Son of God, or it is a mere 
 fanciful delusion that forces us to look upon 
 earth's greatest heroes as imbeciles, and earth's 
 greatest triumphs as failures. I never could un 
 derstand how people could be content to take a 
 few steps, as it were, with Christ, and forever 
 after stand still, or move about in a narrow little 
 circle. Their eyes will be opened some time in 
 the eternities, if not here, and they will realize 
 their irrevocable loss." 
 
 She always talked on this high plane, and 
 urged all who named the name of Christ to look 
 ahead and press forward. There was no such 
 thing as cant in her speech. She was very plain 
 and practical in her teachings; but her lofty 
 sentiments, and a certain perennial freshness that
 
 Turning tlie Curve 165 
 
 frequently belongs to poetic souls, made her 
 sometimes appear eloquent. Yet she was un 
 conscious of any such thing, and as simple and 
 unsophisticated in her manner as a little child. 
 
 Day after day she lay on her bed patient and 
 trustful, thanking us for every little service as 
 if it were not the gladdest joy of our lives to 
 attend upon her wishes. One morning she said 
 to her father as she laid her face lovingly against 
 his shoulder : 
 
 "To think that I will soon be with dear 
 mother who has waited so long, and with the 
 Lord Jesus Christ who makes for us the blessed 
 ness of relationships! I can not tell you how 
 the thought stirs me with joy." 
 
 A pained expression passed over his face as 
 he replied : 
 
 "O, my child, if we only knew these things 
 about the future life. If we only knew! The 
 whole thing is at most a great hope." 
 
 "You can not have any reasonable faith in 
 God, father, without believing in the immortality 
 of the blessed," she responded, "and if you be 
 lieve in the Christian's God, you must know that
 
 i66 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 Christ is true, and he said: 'I am the Resurrec 
 tion and the Life; he that believeth on me, 
 though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and who 
 soever liveth and believeth on me shall never die. 
 God is not a God of the dead, but of the living.' ' 
 
 Her father was a man of few words in his 
 home; but she seemed to be perfectly confident 
 that he would come in time to the knowledge 
 of the truth in regard to religion. 
 
 The sunlight streamed in through the lat 
 ticed porch, and the breath of the sweet roses 
 she kept there in bloom filled the room with fra 
 grance. 
 
 "When I have gone home, Jeanie," she said, 
 "and you return to the house, throw open every 
 shutter wide. Let the sunshine and the fra 
 grance of life in everywhere. Have no crepe or 
 mourning. Make my memory joyous." 
 
 Make her memory joyous ! Ah, dear one, 
 after all these years there is no cloud in all the 
 skies that can cast one passing shadow on its 
 brightness. It is the memory of a summertime, 
 musical with bird-songs, golden with sunshine, 
 and fragrant with the breath of flowers. It is
 
 Turning the Curve 167 
 
 the beautiful memory of a triumphant life, serene 
 in the grandeur of its patience, gentle in its min 
 istry of suffering, inspiring in its note of victory. 
 The influence of it will go on until all who were 
 ever touched by it have gone to return hither no 
 more. 
 
 That last remaining week lives with me to 
 day, every conversation we had, every change 
 of expression, as the light and shadow in their 
 turn each day rilled the room. 
 
 "Father," she said one evening, "will you read 
 to me from the Bible 
 
 ' One of the sweet old chapters 
 After a day like this ?' ' ' 
 
 Her father took her Bible from a table near 
 by, and asked: 
 
 "Where shall I read?" 
 
 "Well, read the sixth chapter of St. John." 
 
 Her father read the chapter slowly in a strong 
 voice, stopping occasionally at certain verses as 
 if he were thinking. When he had finished, she 
 said: 
 
 "Father, dear, let that chapter and the third 
 of St. John be especially your chapters in the
 
 1 68 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 future. I want you to have my Bible, and I 
 have marked those two for you." 
 
 "Well, dear one," he replied, tenderly, as the 
 tears filled his eyes, "I will do as you say. They 
 sound very mysterious to me ; but I '11 do as 
 you say." 
 
 "Father," she said, raising herself up on the 
 couch and looking earnestly into his face (it 
 was the last time she ever spoke to him on the 
 subject of religion), "you are going to be a 
 Christian; not a half-hearted, doubting Chris 
 tian, but an earnest, prayerful one, giving all 
 your affairs daily into the hands of God. He told 
 me this long ago, and I am certain it will come 
 to pass. 
 
 ' More things are wrought by prayer 
 Than this world dreams of.' " 
 
 She spoke with much earnestness and feel 
 ing, and a moment later added, softly, 
 
 " 'For so the whole round earth is every way 
 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God." " 
 
 "I am willing, daughter," replied this strong 
 man of the world, as he leaned his head on his 
 hand. "I am more than willing, and I will tell
 
 Turning the Curve 169 
 
 you for your comfort that it is easier for me to 
 pray than it was some months ago. I mean to 
 continue to pray, and to believe that Jesus Christ 
 is the Son of God, although " But he did not 
 finish the sentence. A violent spasm of pain 
 seized her, and made her slight frame tremble. 
 She closed her eyes and held herself together like 
 a soldier until it was passed. Afterwards we three 
 sat alone perfectly quiet. She evidently wanted 
 to say more, but the strength refused to come, 
 and the colorless lips were forced to remain 
 speechless. The following day she had me get 
 an article she had cut out of a magazine on "The 
 Church and the Miracle of Modern Missions," 
 and pin it into her Bible at the third chapter of 
 St. John. 
 
 As I was brushing her soft, dark hair that 
 morning, I said: 
 
 "Do you ever have any fear of death now, 
 Nannette? I remember what an awful horror 
 you used to have of it. It made me shudder to 
 hear you talk." 
 
 "Yes, I remember it too," she replied. "I 
 had such a dread of it that the very thought
 
 170 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 would bring torture to me that no mortal words 
 could express; yet now I can talk about it 
 calmly, and with as little fear as I talk of going 
 to sleep. The grace of God has lifted my soul 
 as much higher than it was in those days of 
 doubt as the stars are higher than the depths 
 of the sea, and I do n't want to be unconscious 
 either when I die," she added, a moment later. 
 "I want my spirit to be at the full tide of life. 
 
 ' I would hate that death bandaged my eyes and forebore 
 
 And bade me creep past 
 No ! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, 
 
 The heroes of old, 
 Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears 
 
 Of pain, darkness, and cold.' 
 
 I hope, too, that this thing we call death, though 
 it is but the turning of the curve in life, will 
 come to me on the Sabbath some Sabbath 
 morning when the church-bells are ringing." 
 
 It was Friday evening, the 5th of November. 
 All day the wind had been blowing, and the 
 clouds had gathered in heavy black masses across 
 the sky. It had been such a perfect season up 
 to this day that the sudden cold, damp air caused 
 a shudder as of something disastrous. Every
 
 Turning the Curve 171 
 
 one seemed to feel the gloom of an impending 
 storm. The streets seemed deserted ; the silence 
 and the somber color of the sky, and the strange 
 loud plashing of the water grew oppressive. As 
 night came on, the clouds closed round and hung 
 low. It was a quiet in which the elements of 
 storm were lurking. By midnight the wind was 
 blowing with great violence, and the rain fell in 
 torrents. We were all awake in the house. I 
 sat at Nannette's bedside, and asked the woman 
 who assisted in the care of her to lie down, for 
 I knew there was no more sleep for me that 
 night. For an hour we listened to the raging 
 of the storm. The wind whistled and shrieked 
 wildly about the house. I could hear it tearing 
 one of the large trees near the back veranda 
 crack, smash, and presently a limb was thrown 
 violently against the house. Nannette started, 
 and asked what it was. 
 
 "Only the wind, dear. Try not to listen." 
 
 "I 'm not afraid," she answered. 
 
 Judge Huntington got a lantern, and at 
 tempted to go out on the back veranda; but 
 upon opening the door, he was almost blown
 
 172 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 over, and came back glad enough to close and 
 bolt it. 
 
 As we sat there waiting, I thought of the 
 many humble homes that must be injured, and 
 perhaps lives lost on sea and on land. A feeling 
 of awe, if not of terror, came over me. "What a 
 great God is the God of nature," I thought ; "the 
 God of the whirlwind, the God of the storm ! It 
 is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the 
 living God." 
 
 Finally the wind seemed to stop and come 
 only in occasional gusts, like the panting of some 
 mighty creature after terrific exertion. 
 
 When Saturday morning dawned, the sun, 
 though pale at first, arose at length, and it was 
 a resplendent day. The whole face of nature 
 looked clean and calm. Nannette's father and I 
 went about the yard straightening things up, 
 investigating what was left of plants, shrubbery, 
 etc. There was much damage done to trees and 
 some small houses near by; but counting these 
 things out, everything looked even lovelier than 
 before, and the great waves, with their rainbow- 
 tinted spray, were beautiful beyond description.
 
 Turning the Curve 173 
 
 During the entire day Nannette remained quiet, 
 as if buried in thought. She asked that her bed 
 be moved where she could look out upon the 
 sea. She wanted to get a view of the wide sky 
 and the tender, fluctuating lights on the water 
 that seemed to breathe with a life that can shiver 
 and mourn, be comforted and rejoice. 
 
 I thought, as I sat silent by her bedside and 
 watched with her, that surely hers had been an 
 heroic life. 
 
 With her unusual powers she might have 
 chosen and possessed any happiness and position 
 in society that wealth and influence could offer. 
 She might have been, even in her invalid 
 life, the admired woman of wit and beauty 
 among a host of friends; but instead, she 
 had chosen God, and a service, laborious and 
 constant, to his suffering children. Her broad 
 humanity and religion had become so real and 
 so much a part of her existence that they ab 
 sorbed every other consideration. The result 
 was, life became to her a grand oratorio, the 
 finale of which she was willing to wait for until 
 she reached the other side.
 
 174 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 Saturday night after she had slept a few 
 hours, she awoke and said : 
 
 "Sing, Jeanie, about the wideness of God's 
 mercy." 
 
 I tried to sing 
 
 "There's a wideness in God's mercy, 
 
 Like the wideness of the sea ; 
 
 There's a kindness in his justice, 
 
 Which is more than liberty." 
 
 My voice faltered on the last verse. It was such 
 a perfect expression of her own life. 
 
 " If our faith were but more simple, 
 
 We should take Him at His word, 
 And our lives would be all sunshine 
 In the sweetness of our Lord." 
 
 The next morning, which was Sabbath, we 
 knew it was a question of but a few hours. Her 
 brothers and the pastor had just left the room. 
 Only her father and myself were with her. 
 About ten o'clock, the church-bells in the dis 
 tance could be heard. Presently she opened 
 her eyes, and said: "Am I dying? O father, 
 there is no darkness; it is light." 
 
 She closed them again, and, ere we knew it, 
 she was gone.
 
 Turning the Curve 175 
 
 The last picture that completes this record of 
 her life is of a church filled with people; a gray 
 day in November; the rich and the poor, the 
 strong and the weak, were gathered there from 
 various parts, to pay their last respects to her 
 whom they loved. The old pastor, her mother's 
 friend, as well as her own, stood by the white 
 casket in which she lay so beautiful, and which 
 was covered with white roses and lilies. He 
 spoke of what must already have been revealed 
 to her vision even that day, while we lingered 
 below, and said during his remarks: "In the 
 catacombs of Rome there is a tomb that bears 
 only the simple inscription, 'A sweet Christian 
 soul.' How truly the old inscription describes 
 her for whom we mourn! We can hardly re 
 alize as yet that never again shall we look on 
 her sweet, pale face, and never again hear her 
 gentle voice utter words of Christian cheer and. 
 triumph. It was easy for her to die; it was hard 
 for us to let her die. I try to imagine how it all 
 must look to the Master. He sees both sides: 
 her spirit filled with rapture, our earthly eyes 
 filled with tears. The dark valley could have no
 
 176 Light Through Darkened Windows 
 
 terror for her because she saw the face of Christ 
 shining directly through it." 
 
 He did not speak long, for words seemed al 
 most useless ; the very thought of her was a ser 
 mon. Every one in the house felt the presence 
 of her spirit, and a quiet that seemed not of 
 earth rested on each heart. The voice of mourn 
 ing was heard only in the tones of the great 
 organ. 
 
 At the close of the service the pastor stated 
 that her children from the mission schools could 
 now come forward and take their last look at 
 her. The little procession timidly stole down 
 the aisle, and surrounded the casket. On their 
 tear-stained faces was a mingled expression of 
 admiration, awe, and sorrow. Suddenly a ray 
 of sunlight broke through the clouds, and, shin 
 ing in through the altar window, it enveloped 
 the white casket surrounded by little children. 
 Strangely it lingered there until the casket was 
 borne out, and then as strangely it disappeared, 
 and was lost in the somber face of the sky.
 
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