CHAPTER VII.

A BUSY DAY FOR DANIEL.

Daniel went home with Jessica, still disturbed a little with the dread of finding his unwelcome visitor awaiting their arrival; but she was not there, and there was no interruption to their quiet evening together, though both of them started and looked towards the door at every sound of a footstep in the court.

After they had had their tea, and while Jessica was putting away the tea-things in the kitchen, Daniel unlocked his desk, and took out his receipts for the money he had out on interest. Since he had adopted Jessica he had not added much to his savings; for besides the cost of her maintenance there had also been the expenses of housekeeping. In former times he had scarcely cared how uncomfortable his lodgings were, provided that they were cheap; and he had found that to have a tidy and comfortable house of his own involved a great outlay of money.

Sometimes a thought had crossed his mind, of which he was secretly ashamed, that the minister, who seemed so fond of Jessica, or at least some of the rich members of the congregation, might have borne part of the charge of her living; but no one had ever offered to do anything for her. He had spent his money with a half grudge, and now the question upon his mind was, did God require him to waste--he said “waste” to himself--his hardly-earned savings upon a drunken and wicked woman?

It was a hard trial. He loved Jessica, as he had said, more than his money, and had never really regretted taking her into his home; she was like a daughter to him, and he was a happier and a better man for her companionship. But this woman was an abhorrence to him, a disgust and disgrace. She had no more claim upon him than any other of the thousands of lost men and women who thronged the streets of London.

Surely God did not require him to take this money, which was the sole provision for his old age; and now that the minister was so stricken there would be no new chapel built for him, and no house for the chapel-keeper, and no increase of salary. That was already a settled point, for the physicians who were attending the minister declared positively that never again would his over-worked brain be capable of sustaining any long strain of thought, such as had drawn together his eager and attentive congregations.

It was scarcely even a question whether he would be able to resume his position as pastor of this old church; and under a new minister it was probable the place might be half emptied, and his emoluments as chapel-keeper be considerably lessened. He was getting older, too, and there was not more than ten years’ work in him. He looked at his treasured receipts, and asked himself, Could it be possible that God required him to sacrifice his past gains and risk his future comforts upon Jessica’s mother?

Then another question, in the very depths of his conscience, was whispered to his heart, which at first was willing to remain deaf to the small and quiet voice; but it grew louder and more clamorous, until Daniel found that it must be heard and answered.

“What think you Christ would have done with this woman?” it asked. If God had brought her to that door where He dwelt as a poor carpenter, would He have thrust her back upon the misery of the life which drove her again and again to the vilest of her sins? Would Jesus, who came to seek as well as to save those who are lost, have balanced a book of savings against the hope, faint though it was, of rescuing the woman’s soul?

“Daniel, Daniel,” answered the quiet voice to his inmost heart, “what would thy Lord have done?” He tried to set it aside, and hush it up, while he turned the key upon his receipts, telling himself that he had done all that his duty as a Christian demanded of him when he rescued and adopted Jessica. But the Spirit of God has a gracious tyranny which requires more and more from the soul which begins to sacrifice itself. He had mastered his love of money for the sake of a child whom he loved; now he must conquer it to rescue a wretched woman whom he shrank from.

The struggle seemed to last long, but it was ended before Jessica came back to the fireside. Daniel’s prayer in the afternoon had been too sincere for him to be left in darkness to grope along a wrong path. His face wore a smile as Jessica took her sewing and sat down opposite to him; such a smile as rarely lit up his rigid features.

“Jessica,” he said, “God has shown me what to do.”

“Perhaps it’ll be better than the minister himself,” answered Jessica.

“Ay!” answered Daniel. “I don’t think the minister could have told me plainer. Why, Jessica, suppose the Lord had been living here, and your mother had come to his door, wouldn’t he have cared for her, and grieved over her, and done everything he could to prevent her going on in sin? Well, dear, it seems to me it wouldn’t be altogether right to take her to live with us all at once, because you are a young girl and ought not to see such ways, and I might get angry with her; but I’ll hire a room for her somewhere, that shall be always kept for her, and whenever she comes to it there will be a bed, and a meal for her; and we’ll be very kind to her, and see if by any means we can help to make her good.”

Jessica had dropped her sewing and drawn near to Daniel; and now she flung her arms round his neck, and hid her face upon his breast, crying.

“Why, now, now, my dear!” said Daniel, “what ails you, Jessica? Wouldn’t the Lord Jesus have made a plan something like that? Come, come; we’ll pray to him to make her a good woman, and then--who knows?--she may come here to live with us.”

“She’s my own mother, you know,” sobbed Jessica, as if these words alone were thoughts in her heart.

“Yes!” answered Daniel, “and we must do our best for her. Jessica, I know now that I love God more than aught else in this world or the next.”

It was a knowledge worth more than all the riches of earth; and as Daniel sat in his chimney-corner he could hardly realize his own happiness. To be sure that he loved God supremely, and to have the witness in himself that he did so! He felt as if he could take all the world of lost and ruined sinners to his heart, and, like Christ himself, lay down his life for them. There was only one shadow, if it could be called a shadow, upon his joy unspeakable, and full of comfort--it was that he could not gladden the heart of the minister by telling him of this change in his nature.

The next day was a very busy one for Daniel; for besides his ordinary duties he charged himself with finding a suitable place for Jessica’s mother. He met with a room at last in the dwelling of a poor widow, who was glad to let him have it on condition that he paid the rent of the house.

He and Jessica bought a bed and a chair and a table, and put everything in readiness for their expected visitor. Scanty as was the furniture, it was a warm and certain shelter for the poor vagrant, who spent half her nights shivering under archways or in unfinished buildings; and never had Daniel felt so pure a gratification as when he gave a last look at the room, and taking Jessica by the hand went back to his own home, no longer afraid of meeting the woman on his threshold.