Saved as by Fire! CHAPTER 15.
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After two or three weeks, the change in Mr. Granger's appearance was so great that I found it difficult to realize the fact that he was the same man whom we had, a little while before, taken from the county prison. Nutritious food was rapidly restoring muscular waste, and giving strength to shattered nerves. Sound sleep was doing its good work also. While above all, and vital to all, was a new-born trust in God, and a submission of himself to the Divine will and guidance.
I could see the steady growth of a new quality in his face; the expression of which was becoming softer, yet not losing the strength of a true manliness. The old, confident ring did not come back to his voice; though it gained in firmness, and you felt in its tone the impulse of a resolute will.
Up to this time, I had said nothing to Granger about his wife and children, nor had he referred to them; but I knew, from signs not to be mistaken, that they were hardly for a moment absent from his thoughts; and I was sure that his heart was going out to them with irrepressible yearnings. It could not be otherwise, for he was a man of warm affections.
Nor had I said anything of this new effort at reformation to Mrs. Granger, whom I had seen twice since she told me of her husband's visit to the photograph rooms. I had been trying ever since, to find another place for Amy, but so far was not successful. Why should I keep the good news away from her any longer? I had withheld it so far, in fear lest the hope and joy it must occasion might too quickly be dashed to the ground. But now I was beginning to have a more abiding faith in this last struggle upon which Granger had entered; because of the new and higher elements of strength it was calling into exercise.
For several days I debated the question, and then dropped a note to Mrs. Granger, asking her to call at my office. She came promptly, hoping that I had succeeded in finding a situation for her daughter. I had not noticed before how much her beautiful hair had changed. It was thickly sprinkled with gray. A shadow lay in her large brown eyes, which had lost much of their former depth and brightness. There was an earnest, expectant manner about her as she came forward. I saw that she was troubled and anxious, and half-regretted having sent for her, not knowing, of course, how she might be affected by the information I was about to communicate.
"Any good word for Amy?" she asked, with an effort to keep her voice from betraying the suspense from which she was suffering.
"Nothing certain, as yet," I replied. "But there's something else that I wish to talk with you about."
Her large eyes widened a little. She asked no question, but kept her gaze fixed upon me.
"Have you heard anything from Mr. Granger since Amy was at the photograph rooms?"
She shook her head, but did not remove her eyes from my face.
"You did not know that he was arrested and sent down to prison?"
A slight negative movement of the head, and a close, hard shutting of the lips.
"I heard of it, and went with a friend to see him."
A startle, a catching of the breath, and a receding color.
"I think he must have died within twenty-four hours, if we had not taken him from the cell in which we found him. Utterly broken down in body and spirits, he had given up in despair."
The eyes of Mrs. Granger dropped swiftly from my face. I saw a strong shiver run through her body. Then she was as motionless as a statue.
"Mr. Stannard and I went to see him," I resumed. "We had an order for his release, and took him to the new Reformatory Home in Locust Street, where he has been ever since."
Mrs. Granger raised her eyes and looked at me again. No light had come into them. If anything, the shadow that lay over them was deeper. I was disappointed at this apparent indifference, and at her failure to ask me any questions in regard to her husband.
"Mr. Stannard and I feel very hopeful about him."
She shook her head in a dreary way. "There is no hope," she murmured, in a dead level voice. "It was kind of you and Mr. Stannard, and you meant well. But it will be of no use. If you had brought me word that he was dead — I would have felt thankful to know that his helpless, hopeless, wretched life was over. It is hard for me to say this, Mr. Lyon, but I can say nothing less. He is in the hands of a demon whose strength, as compared with his, is as that of a giant to a new-born infant!"
"Is not God stronger than any devil?" I asked, speaking with quiet earnestness.
There was another quick, half-wondering dilation of her large eyes, and a swift change in her countenance. She waited for me to go on.
"There is no sin from which God cannot save a man," said I.
"Except, I have sometimes thought, the sin of drunkenness; it so utterly degrades and destroys the soul. It seems to leave nothing upon which men, or angels, or even God Himself can take hold."
She spoke with some bitterness, but with more of doubt and sorrow in her voice.
"Many men," I replied, "who had fallen quite as low as Mr. Granger, have been saved from this dreadful sin and curse — by means of the Institution where we have placed your husband, and are back in their old social places again, and restored to their once broken and deserted families."
A death-like paleness swept suddenly into her face. She reached out her hands and caught the table by which she was sitting, holding on to it tightly, and trembling violently.
"Have you not heard about the Franklin Home?" I asked.
She shook her head, her lips moving in a silent No.
"It is a Christian home," I said. "All its inhabitants are brought under Christian influences. There are daily readings of the Scripture, and also family prayer in the chapel of the Institution. Every Sunday evening, Christian worship is held in this chapel, and in the afternoon of Sunday, there is a Bible class. First and last the inhabitants are taught that only by God's grace and help can they ever hope to overcome completely the sin of drunkenness. They must fight this, as well as all other evil habits and inclinations, shunning them assins against God, and looking to Him for the strength that will give them the victory; so seeking to be saved from all sins, and coming thereby completely within the sphere of His Divine protection."
The manner of Mrs. Granger was that of one who did not clearly understand what was being said to her. There were rapid changes in her face, lights and shadows passing swiftly across it.
"For over three weeks your husband has been in this Home, and the improvement is so great as to be almost marvelous."
She laid her head down upon my office table, and I saw that she was weeping.
"I have never had so great faith in your husband's efforts at reform, as I feel now. He has passed below the limit of self-confidence; has lost all faith in himself; knows that he cannot stand in his own strength; that only God can help and save him."
I heard the office door open, and turning, saw Mr. Granger. As I uttered his name in a tone of surprise, his wife sprang to her feet, and turned toward him a face from which the color had gone out suddenly. The two gazed at each other for some moments, standing a little apart, their faces startled.
"Helen! Oh, my poor Helen!" came trembling from Granger's lips, as he saw the sad changes which a few sorrowful years had wrought upon her. There was an involuntary reaching out of his hands; but he held himself away. His voice was inexpressibly tender and pitiful. Still, very still, she stood; then I saw a slight movement, and then, with a low cry, "My husband! my husband!" she sprang forward and laid her head on his bosom, his arms at the same moment gathering tightly around her. I went out and left them alone. When I came back, they were gone.
I was concerned about this. Granger had been, I felt, too short a time at the Home to be safely removed from its influence. I was not one of those who believed that in an instant of time, a sinner was lifted wholly away from temptation and danger. To be born again, converted, renewed by the Spirit, had for me a different meaning. I had thought much about these things of late, and held many conversations with Mr. Stannard, whose mind to me seemed peculiarly enlightened. I believe that man must be a co-worker with God. That there was no washing until after repentance and the putting away of evils all sins; and that the "every whit clean," when applied to young converts, was a fallacy, and in consequence a snare; that "He who overcomes, the same shall be clothed in white clothing" — and none others. I believed that a change of heart was a gradual thing, progressing with the new life of obedience to Divine laws, and that as obedience was continued and perfected, the new spiritual man became stronger and stronger, until at last able to stand firm, though all Hell were in battle array against him.
Only a few weeks had passed since we had lifted this man out of the mire and clay; only a few weeks of the new and better life. Was he strong enough to leave the safe harbor in which he had been anchored for so short a time, and try the open sea again? I did not believe it. My fear was, that he had gone home with Mrs. Granger, and that he would not return again to the Institution in which we had placed him. If this were so, I would tremble for his safety.
In the evening I went to the Home, and, to my great relief, found Mr. Granger in the reading-room. The whole expression of his countenance had changed. There was a light in it which I had not seen before. He grasped my hand and held it firmly for a few moments without speaking.
"Coming along very fast," said I.
"Yes, faster than I had dared to hope," he replied.
"Did you go home with your wife?"
"No. We walked together for an hour after leaving your office, and then I came back here. I am too weak yet, for any great trial of my strength. It is easy enough to stand with all these helps around me; but I must grow stronger in myself, before I attempt to walk alone. And then I cannot be a burden to my poor wife, who is already overtaxed in her efforts to keep a home for our children. As soon as possible, I must get something to do that I may come to her relief."
"Will you open a law office again?"
"Law is my profession. I have no skill in anything else. It is my only way of return to business and profit. Yes, just as soon as I feel strong enough to make the effort, I shall endeavor to get into practice. In passing along Walnut Street today, I saw several small offices to rent, any one of which would suit me. My great drawback will be the lack of a law library."
"Don't let that trouble you," I replied. "There are plenty of old friends in the profession who will gladly let you have the use of books, until you are able to buy them for yourself. As soon as it is seen that you are in real earnest about getting on your feet again — you will receive a warm welcome, and the grasp of many helping hands."
Within six weeks from the time Granger came out of prison, he had a desk in the office of a prominent lawyer, whose large practice enabled him to throw considerable business in his way from the very start. He still remained at the Reformatory Home, where, for a moderate price, he had a well-furnished room and excellent board. He not only identified himself with the Institution, but became deeply interested in the work of reform. He had, himself, been a cast-away on the desolate shore, where so many thousands are wreckedevery year; and he knew all the pains and horrors of such disasters. His pity and his sympathy drew towards him every new inmate of the Home, and prompted him to do all that lay in his power to encourage, comfort and help him to begin that new and higher life, in which, as he never failed to urge, true and permanent safety could alone be found.
"Have you ever attended religious services at the Home on Sunday evening?" Mr. Stannard asked, one day. It was about two months after Mr. Granger's admission. I had not.
"Come around tomorrow night. It will interest you. Mr. Smith is going to preach to the men."
I went, and, to my surprise, found a little chapel, which held about two hundred, so well filled that only a few seats remained. There were quite as many women as men; wives, mothers, sisters or friends of the inhabitants. A little way back from the reading-desk I noticed Mr. Granger, and it almost took my breath when I saw his wife sitting on one side of him and his daughter on the other. There was reading from the Bible, and one or two hymns, in which the whole congregation joined heartily. Then a most excellent sermon from one of the leading clergymen of the city.
It was a long time since I had been so much impressed as by the services of this evening. I sat where I could look into the faces of nearly all who were present. Just in front of me was Mr. Granger, and beside him his wife and daughter, all attentive listeners to the discourse. Not far from them I recognized the person of Dr. Rawson. He sat between two women, also, and I had no doubt from the way they leaned towards him, or turned now and then to look at him, that one was his wife and the other the daughter whom he had followed for so many blocks in the street, too sorely conscious of his degradation to dare even to speak to her. And Mr. Lawrence, who had written to his wife and received the promise of her speedy return, was there likewise; and by him sat a woman with a calm, strong, true face, and I saw, with a throb of feeling, which sent the moisture to my eyes, that she was holding one of his hands tightly in one of hers.
There were nearly a hundred men present who had been, or were now, inhabitants of the Institution; and almost as many more wives, sisters and mothers. Sad, indeed, was the writing on nearly all of the faces into which I gazed; but light mingled with the shadows. There were men before me who had been drunkards for over ten and twenty years — some for even a longer time — and women who had borne the dreadful sorrow of the drunkard's wife for periods quite as long.
What followed, touched me most of all. After the benediction was said, and the congregation began slowly to retire, I saw little groups of twos and threes and fours gathering here and there, standing or sitting, and soon comprehended what it meant. Here you saw a husband and wife, who had lived apart for years, sitting close together in earnest conversation; and there wife and children gathered about a husband and father who had long been lost to them, but was now found again. What light, and even joy, were to be seen in the faces of many, the women's faces especially. And it was affecting to notice some of the children — little girls more particularly — holding tightly to their father's hands, sitting close to and leaning against them, or looking up lovingly into their faces. There were many tender re-unions that night in the little chapel, above whose reading-desk a silken banner held the inscription, "By the grace of God, I am what I am!"
I made my way, as soon as the crowd had cleared a little, to where Mr. Granger and his wife and daughter were standing together. They looked very happy — yes, "happy" is the word — and greeted me with much cordiality.
"Is this the first time you have attended worship in our chapel?" Mr. Granger asked.
"The first time," I replied. "But I feel as if it was not going to be the last. I have heard people speak of the 'sphere of worship,' but never knew what it meant until tonight."
"It is because," he answered, "there are very few in the congregations that assemble here on Sunday evenings, who do not feel that their only hope is in God, and that without His grace — they cannot stand for a moment."
"Who are all the people I see around me?" I asked.
"About thirty of the men are present inhabitants of the Home. Nearly all the rest were formerly inhabitants, and are standing firm. They come here on Sunday evenings; and those who have families bring their wives, and many their children. If one absents himself from these Sunday evening services, there is a feeling of concern in regard to him; for experience has shown, that the first sign of danger, is a manifest indifference to the things of religion. I never look at that banner above the reading-desk, without a new sense of my entire dependence on God for strength to walk safely in the midst of temptation; and I am sure that its silent admonition has wrought a like influence with many others. It is by God's grace, that I am what I am."
Mrs. Granger's large eyes were fixed on her husband's face while he spoke; and I saw something of their old charm coming back into them. A soft smile was hovering like a faint gleam of sunshine on her lips. We moved back the chairs amid which we were standing, making with them a small circle, and sat down together.
"My last night in the Home," said Granger, after a brief silence. His voice had lost some of its steadiness.
"Indeed!" I betrayed a little surprise.
"Yes." He turned towards his wife, looking at her tenderly. We are going to set up our household again."
The smile grew warmer on her lips.
"We have taken a little home, and are going to make a new start in life; and there is going to be in this home, what was never seen in the old home. Shall I tell you what that is, my good friend to whom I owe so much?"
I waited for him to go on. Hushing his voice, and speaking reverently, he said: "A family altar!"
Before the silence that followed was broken, we were joined by the president and two or three gentlemen who were active in the management of the Home. While I was talking with them, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, with their daughter, drew away, and a little while afterwards I saw them separate at the door of the chapel.
On the next day Granger left the Institution, and went back into the old common life, to try, amidst its thousand enticements to evil, the new sources of strength in which he was now trusting for safety.
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