Heathersleigh Homecoming Read Free Page A

of his most memorable characters, Robert Falconer. It was also very near this setting where Hannah Hurnard received the inspiration for and wrote Hinds’ Feet on High Places .
    It seemed fitting somehow that Amanda likewise be given an opportunity to breathe that cleansing air, to see what it might be able to accomplish toward her dawning awakening.



Jungle Mission
    1897
    The cluster of small buildings—primitive by London standards, but luxurious alongside the huts of sticks, straw, and mud found in the nearby jungle—had seen many happy times since the mission sent the young couple here.
    But on this day the memory of singing and laughter would turn to weeping.
    The season when hymns of joyful praise echoed from the mouths of the native Maoris was over.
    The witch doctor had declared it. None dared question his pronouncement. In the superstitious minds of the tribe, his power was greater than that of the young French missionary and his English wife, whose pregnancy the native women had watched progress with eager curiosity and anticipation.
    It was now ten minutes past the toll of the chapel bell.
    Husband and wife sat silent and waiting in the small church they had completed with the help of the villagers six months earlier. Both knew something was wrong.
    Fifteen, eighteen, even twenty worshipers should have been here by now. There were always between fifteen and thirty on hand, a good many of the village men among them. There had even been talk that the chief was showing interest in hearing the stories firsthand, rather than from his people, and might make an appearance.
    But it was becoming more obvious with every passing second that such a singularly important event would not happen today.
    â€œWhere is everyone?” finally asked the young mother-to-be. Her voice did not exactly contain fear, yet betrayed the concern that had been building in her mind.
    â€œI don’t know,” sighed her husband, trying to sound calm. In truth, he was more worried than he let on. As he had lain awake last night, his wife of two and a half years breathing softly and peacefully beside him, he had heard disconcerting sounds far off through the Wanganui jungle. He did not want to wake her then, nor did he want to alarmher now. But he had a bad feeling.
    For another five minutes husband and wife sat in silence. Both were praying in mounting anxiety.
    The missionary slowly reached over and took his wife’s hand. She clutched it too eagerly. He knew the instant he felt her clammy perspiration that she was scared.
    It was time to get her to a safe place. It was obvious there would be no service on this day. He started to rise.
    Suddenly a dull, thudding thwack echoed through the chapel.
    The missionary wife leapt out of her seat.
    â€œWhat was that!” she exclaimed.
    Her husband knew well enough exactly what it was. Some of the native men had taught him the use of bow and arrow, with which every man in the jungle was deadly accurate.
    He was on his feet in an instant, pulling his wife’s hand with sudden urgency.
    â€œCome . . . come quickly!” he said, moving toward the door.
    â€œWhat—”
    â€œJust come!”
    In moments they were out of the chapel and flying across the ground to the small adjacent structure of their home. He half dragged her behind him as fast as she could manage.
    A quick glance over their shoulders revealed that the first fiery arrow had been joined by a half dozen more. Within minutes the chapel was ablaze.
    â€œSchnell . . . geh unter . . . in dem Keller!” implored the Swissman, in panic abandoning his English as he threw back the faded, threadbare scrap of rug and yanked up the hinged door.
    It had been one of the instructions he had argued against when they sent him here. How could he earn the trust of the natives if he kept secrets from them? But he had built the secret room below the floor of their home at the insistence of