The Heart's Kingdom

"Yes, Martha," came the answer after an instant's pause, and Nickols

Powers stepped from my side to that of Martha Ensley and took her wrung

hands in his. For another long moment we all stood tense at the

acknowledgment that the tragedy had forced to the surface. I stood

beside father like a woman of ice, yet on fire with a contemptuous

humiliation. The eyes of all my world were for an instant turned on me,

then they were all called back to the tragedy that was tottering over

us.

"Hurry, hurry!" came another wail from within the ruins in Charlotte's

voice. "He's bleeding!"

Again Martha started to fling herself past Nickols and the parson with a

scream of terror which was faintly echoed from within.

"Somebody come to Martha," commanded Mr. Goodloe, as he held her off

with one hand while he eased the beam on his shoulder so that Nickols

could slip in past him to the other end.

Suddenly a great, beautiful warmth melted the horror of pride and

humiliation that had frozen my heart as Nickols had stepped from my side

to that of Martha in acknowledgment of her claim upon him for the saving

of the child. All fear for her or us or the babies passed from me. My

soul had gone out into a darkness, called on some great Power that must

be there directing such a thing as was happening to us, and calm and

clear the answer of courage flowed into me.

Then without another moment's hesitation I stepped forward and held out

my arms to Gregory Goodloe for Martha. He put her into their strong

embrace and I pressed her head down upon my shoulder in a great

tenderness I had never felt before, while Nickols, with a long, hunted

look at us both, crawled into the crumbling ruin and crouched under the

beam as Gregory Goodloe directed him.

The wind had died down, the clouds were rolling away the darkness and

the rain had almost stopped as we all stood and waited for Gregory

Goodloe to bring from that ruin, in the way his superior judgment

thought best, either life or death. From within there came sobs and

smothered little moans that were so mingled that they could not be

identified by even the mother hearts held at bay by the faith that made

them obey the parson's command.

And then as I stood there with the mother of the child of my lover

cowering against my breast, with the man who in a few days was to have

been my husband, crouched under almost certain grinding death, and

looked into what at any moment might be the grave of all the babies of

the women I held dear, a light was flooding into my darkness and all of

the obscure, untranslatable writings on my nature became clear and I

received my consciousness of my Master, the Lord Jesus, with a cry that

I sent up for His mediation for the lives of the little ones. It was my

first prayer.