He was
very tired. Never before in his life had he known such weariness. He
felt that in the past few weeks he had neglected the garden down there.
For Denny and Deborah he had planned that the little plot of ground
should be more profitable that year than it had ever been before. He
would not neglect it longer. There at least were visible, actual returns
for his labor. Tomorrow he would spend in the garden.
But to-night--
Seating himself at his writing table he wrote the Chicago church that he
could not consider their call. And then in that little room where he had
made for his ministry the supreme sacrifice of his life; surrounded by
the silent witnesses of his struggle and victory, he penned his
resignation as the pastor of Memorial Church.
Dan Matthews will never outlive the suffering of that hour. He had lost
the woman he loved with all the might of his strong passionate manhood.
When she had waited and beckoned him to come, he had chosen his ministry.
And now--God pity him!--now he had lost that for which he had sacrificed
both himself and the woman he loved.
When he had finished his letter, he bowed his face in his hands and wept.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A HANDFUL OF GOLD
"'I fear it is more his church than mine, sir.'"
Rising early the next morning Dan looked from his window to see a
stranger already at work in the garden. He was tall, raw-boned, having
the figure and dress of a laborer. A few minutes later Dan was introduced
by the delighted Deborah to her brother Mike McGowan, who had arrived the
afternoon before from somewhere in the west.
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