The college year closed in sadness. There was a new English teacher in the place of Professor Piralian, who had been seriously wounded at Adana and, for the time being, was unable to conduct his classes. Professor Pagratian’s successor, an Armenian of Aintab, was still in America, not to return before the autumn term; Dr. Mills took his work in the meantime.

Archag could not forget the painful events in which he had participated; he was no longer his old self, but always under a cloud. He avoided the companionship of the students and spent his spare time with his sister. Nizam was still with the Pagratians, waiting until the college examinations were over, so that she might have her brothers’ escort on the journey home.

Archag’s sadness was due not only to the death of his brother-in-law and of the other Armenians; no, there was a deeper reason. His faith in God had been shaken, as well as his confidence in human nature.

“Is it possible,” he asked himself, “that a God of kindness, a Father who loves His children tenderly, can permit such horrors?”

“No,” whispered the tempter in his ear, “the God whom you adore is hard and inflexible; in His sight men are no more than grains of sand, and He is quite indifferent to our fate.”

The lad was greatly depressed by these thoughts, and felt a growing distaste for life. Nizam and Garabed, to whom he confided his doubts, could not succeed in consoling him.

“We must accept the will of God,” his sister would say, “death ought not to be a terror, but a joy, for it marks the beginning of our eternal life. In Paradise there will be no more tears, no more sorrow nor parting.”

But these words did not convince him, and Nizam’s sadness increased as she marked this change in her brother.

One evening, as he was returning from a solitary walk, he met Mrs. Spencer. He would have passed on, but she stopped him:

“Oh, Archag! Don’t be in such a hurry; let us have a little chat. Why aren’t you with your friends, instead of wandering about the country like a lost soul?”

“I prefer to be alone; my sadness is oppressive to my friends.”

“So instead of exercising a little self-control, you go on brooding over your sorrow.”

“I can’t forget what has happened.”

“Of course not. I quite understand that, but there is something else troubling you; I have noticed it for a long time. Won’t you talk to me as you would to your mother, and tell me what it is that is hurting you so much?”

Archag was won by the motherly tone.

“The fact is, Mrs. Spencer, I am consumed by doubt; God seems to me so cruel, I can’t believe in His goodness.”

Mrs. Spencer became grave. “Don’t you remember those words of the Bible, ‘Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth,’ and ‘His ways are not as our ways’?”

“Yes; but those horrible massacres, why did He permit them? Thousands of Armenians have perished. Look at the widows! Look at the orphans! Look at the misery!”

“Why did He permit it? Because he thought this trial necessary to our faith. Besides, did He not foretell trials and tribulations? Think of the first Christians, submitting to torture as a means of glorifying God, seeking death that they might draw near to Jesus.”

“But what good can come of such atrocities?”

“Archag, Archag, is it for us to put such questions? I am not blaming you, for when President Mills told me of the death of my dear husband, I reeled under the terrible blow, and I too murmured, ‘Why, O Lord, why? He was working here so earnestly for the advancement of Thy Kingdom; why hast Thou taken him?’ But the Lord took pity on my weakness, and showed me His reasons. You know NersÈs, the son of Badvili Ballosian? His parents used to be broken-hearted over his frivolity and misconduct. But the martyrdom of his father affected him so deeply that he has repented of his ways, and given his heart to Jesus.

“Yesterday I was present at a prayer-meeting in town. Both men and women were filled with the Spirit of God; never have I heard such prayers; the world and their sufferings were quite forgotten, and all those radiant faces plainly declared that they had found the Saviour. The memory of Professor Pagratian and Dr. Spencer is alive in their souls, and these lives of self-denial, crowned by martyrdom, will continue to be an example for us all. Believe me, Archag, the massacres have been a baptism of blood for the Armenians, and have taught your people to understand themselves better. Look at the Church: it was never stronger than at the time of the great persecutions. If the Armenians had known nothing but prosperity and comfort, they would not be what they are to-day; the pernicious influence of Mohammedanism would have had its effect on their hearts and weakened their courage. The Armenian nation would have forgotten its glorious past and denied the religion of its fathers.”

As she spoke the light was kindled in Archag’s soul, and he realized his obduracy and want of faith. Of course he would never forget that night of terror, but now he had learned to accept it as the Will of God.

It was growing dark when he got back to the college, but his friends were struck by the change that had been wrought in him, and were overjoyed to have their old Archag back again.

He regained his bright faith in the Divine Goodness, and took pleasure in the wonderful beauty of Nature. Sometimes a shade of melancholy would cloud his face; then he seemed to hear the cries of the children and to see again their mutilated bodies; but the clouds were soon dissipated. He applied himself diligently to study, and had the good fortune to stand second in the roll of graduates. All the Seniors passed their final examinations, and it was with real regret that they left their dear college, to enter on a new phase of life.

Ten years have passed since our friends left the College of Aintab, and we shall give a short account of their experiences. Alas! the most terrible of catastrophes has just befallen the Armenian people; one half of them have been massacred by the Turks, deliberately and in cold blood; the Euphrates and the Tigris have been choked with dead bodies, and the victims’ bones have been collected in heaps on the desert. Several of the characters of this tale met their deaths during this persecution. Boghos Effendi, his wife and Levon are no more; both Garabed, who was working in his uncle’s mercantile establishment at Sivas, and Soghomon, who since 1912 had been a pastor at Aintab, suffered martyrdom. Some of our other young people have been more fortunate; Aram, after receiving a degree in chemistry from Harvard University, was appointed to a professorship in a college in the far west. He is the same old Aram, and his pupils love him for his good spirits and for taking an interest in their affairs. Dikran is in New York; Nejib studied surgery in London and Vienna, and then returned to Aleppo as his father’s assistant. Archag, too, studied medicine; he took his degree at Geneva, and retains a grateful memory of the hospitality of the Swiss country. He refused an advantageous offer made to him from the University of Beyrout, that he might establish himself at Bitlis. For his duty seems to him plain: he must help his people in their wretchedness, physical and moral. Four years ago Winnie became his wife; she is an ideal companion, sharing his cares, and interested in all his work. A pretty little boy, another little Levon, has been for three years the great joy of his parents.

At the beginning of the Great War, Nejib and Archag were mobilized as doctors. Turkey being in urgent need of physicians, these were spared in the general massacre, as by a miracle, so that Dr. Rossinian is able to continue his practice at Aleppo. He met with a great bereavement in the death of his wife, five years ago, but Winnie and her child have come to stay with him. The last news from their dear ones is good: Nejib, taken prisoner by the English, had an excellent position at Jerusalem, while Archag was still caring for the wounded on the Caucasian front. The young wife keeps up bravely: her faith is strong, and she knows that the Lord is able to give her husband back to her, if it is His will. Nizam has married again; this time to Professor Piralian, who is teaching at Robert College. Being under American protection, they have escaped death, but have been without news of their friends for four years. Mrs. Mills is in America, but the president remained valiantly at his post. He gives his services without stint; he has taken in one hundred orphans, and his heroic conduct has won the gratitude of all Armenians. After the massacre of masters as well as pupils, the college was obliged to close its doors, but with the hope of re-opening them after the war. Its work, however, will not be lost, for it has made upright and honorable men of the boys entrusted to it, and Christians in the real sense of the word.

And now, after all these hours together, my dear readers, we must part. If the story of Archag and his friends has inspired you with an affection for a people so cruelly tried, and a tenderness for the widows and orphans so unjustly robbed of their loved ones, our object has been attained.