An Unwilling Guest (7 page)

Then he lay down with th
e joy of expectation in
his soul.

For
some reason best known to herself Evelyn Rutherford chose to appear at the breakfast table the next morning.

She was not expected. Without a word being said, mother and daughter and father too had taken it for granted that their guest would sleep and leave them to breakfast alone with the son and brother.

But she came in without any apparent hurry just as they were sitting down and the brother, who did not yet understand the state of the case with regard to their guest, hastened to
draw out a chair and then look
ing about for his own seat, exclaimed:

"Why, Allison, you have counted wrong. You forgot so soon that I had come home. I did not think it of you, sister mine. You have but four plates."

Allison, whose cheeks were flaming and whose disappointment was great, murmured something about the waffles and that she was not going to sit down, which decision was arrived at on the spur of the moment, and vanished into the kitchen to hide her
confusion and dis
may. She had not counted on this possibility, and actual tears came into her eyes as she bent over the waffle ir
on to butter it, while it splut
tered at the cool butter in much such a heated way as she would have enjoyed voicing her feelings.

In the dining room the young man c
arried the weight of the conver
sation, and strangely enough it was a
ddressed to the guest almost en
tirely. He did not realize it, but his whole mind was largely filled with studying this girl with a view to gaining an influence over her for good, or at least finding out whether she needed it. He was not so conceited
as to think that of course all people with whom he came into contact needed his help.

He was conscious of being quite happy. He was once more in his dear home, surrounded by those who loved him and whose smiles and voices could always make glad sunshine for him, and he was being given a chance to redeem the past.

But the gentle mother was troubled. She had watched her daughter's speaking face and knew the keen disappointment she was suffering, and she was such a mother that she thoroughly suffered with her. She knew Allison's delight in talking freely with her brother, in waiting upon him and asking questions; and she knew that the visitor made a complete bar to all these pleasures, for Allison was shy and reserved beyond most girls. Her daughter's feelings filled her
thoughts so en
tirely as to leave little time to worry about her son; but occasionally, as she caught a bright look on his face and saw the beautiful face of the city girl light up with smiles as she replied, she began to fear that after all Allison was right and there was cause for worry.

Certainly Evelyn Rutherford was fascinating when she chose to be. She was dressed again in white, with the offending gold buckle, and as the morning had in it a tinge of frost, she had added a scarlet jacket which was exceedingly becoming. The mother could not deny that the vision was beautiful, and yet she had not thought there would
be sym
pathy between these two. Neither could she wonder that the girl wished to please the young man seated opposite to her, as she looked with a mother's admiration on the fine form and strong, noble features of her boy.

But the boy suddenly became aware that, though the golden-brown waffles and amber syrup were vanishing rapidly and he had done his share of helping them onward, his sister, who came and went with very red cheeks, was not having any. When she came in with the next steaming plateful he suddenly arose and took it from her.

"Now sit down, Allison," he said, "and I will show you how well I remember my early training in waffle-baking, sister mine."

He took her, before she was aware of what he was going to do, and
placed her in his chair, deftly gathering his own soiled dishes and placing before her a clean plate from the sideboard behind him. But his sister was in no mind to sit before the guest just now and try to eat. Swallow a mouthful she knew she could not and she did not wish the other girl to know it. She resisted her brother, urging several reasons why he must not bake the waffles, and finally followed him to the kitchen, only to be laughingly but persistently brought back and seated again. In a few minutes the young man returned with a plate of rather melancholy waffles, it must be confessed, compared with those which had gone before, but triumph on his face.

"They burned," he explained, "because I had so much trouble with Allison, but the next will be all right, now I've got my hand in," and he marched back to the kitchen looking very funny in his mother's big check apron he had donned, tied up high under his arms.

During all this pleasant home play Evelyn Rutherford looked on in amazement. It was as if she caught
a glimpse of what her own child
hood might have been if she had been blest with a mother and a true home. How pleasant it would be to have a brother who cared for one like that! It was not put on for show, she felt sure as she eyed him keenly. No, she had been positive from her first meeting with him that he was a man from another world than her own. Fancy Dick caring whether she had waffles or not, let alone taking the trouble to bake them for her, if he only had all he wanted for himself. As for baking waffles, either of them would be obliged to starve if it came to that, for they had no more idea than kittens what went into their make-up.

She began to look at Allison
in
a ne
w light, with a lingering under
tone of envy. True, this other girl had missed much of which her own life was composed; but did she not have some things that made for their loss that were even better, perhaps?

Allison, meanwhile, was having a very hard time with her breakfast, and her mother, perceiving this, made an excuse to send the rest away from the table as soon as possible. She sent her son from the kitchen, hoping he would go at once to his sister. She told him they must get up some pleasant occupation for them all for the morning, and he, nothing lo
st
, went to the piazza in search of Allison. She had left the breakfast room and he supposed he should find her with her guest. His heart was light at the thought of his cherished sister with this girl, who was a queen in high circles. It was what he could have wished.

But Allison had fled to her room to let fall the
pentup
tears, and Miss Rutherford was standing on the piazza alone, fingering a lovely scarlet spray of the vine that covered the porch. He reached up and picked it for her, thinking what a crown it would make in her beautiful black hair. She accepted it pleasantly and fastened it in the gold clasp of her belt, where it well accorded with the crimson coat she wore with its moss-green velvet collar-facing.

The young man proposed a walk to the post office in the crisp October air, and searched for his sister to accompany them.

"Allison," he called, "where are you? Come down. We are going to the post office. Get your hat and hurry, dear. It is glorious out of doors."

A muffled voice that tried to sound natural answered from upstairs, "I can't come just now, Maurice. Don't wait for me." The while she frantically bathed her red eyes and swollen cheeks and scanned them hopelessly in the glass, her heart wrung with desire to go, and dislike of part of the company she should be in.

It may be that Maurice did not have his usual quick perceptions about him, or his mind was filled with another subject, for contrary to his custom he did not urge her and insist upon waiting, but turned to Miss Rutherford with an eagerness which would have made his sister's heart still heavier, had she been there to see.

She heard the steps go down the wal
k, and peeped out from the shel
tering curtain to watch her brother and guest go slowly down the walk and out the gate talking and laughing together as if they did not miss her, and her much-tried soul threw itself into another abandonment of weeping, not caring now for the red eyes which would have plenty of time, she felt sure, to regain their wonted look ere they were called to meet a scrutinizing gaze again.

Evelyn Rutherford, as she walked down the pleasant shaded street
with the handsome, well-built young man by her side, wondered at the beauty of the place and that she had not noticed it when she arrived. There were spacious grounds and houses comfortable and pretentious. There
must be some life worth living, even in this place. Did all these homes know a life such as the
Greys
lived? What was it made the dif
ference? She meant to find out. It was interesting, anyway, and she began to be glad she had come.

And now Maurice Grey had his opportunity, long coveted, at last He was alone with her in a quiet, pleasant place with a reasonably long walk before him, and the one for whom he thought he had a message seemed ready to listen to anything he had to say. And yet he found it was not so easy after all. How was he to begin? He had thought much about it and planned the way he sho
uld say it many times, but some
how, with her beautiful eyes upon him and her bewitching laughter in his ears, none of those solemn sentenc
es seemed to fit. He kept think
ing back to the strange surroundings of their last meeting and feeling a sort of kinship of soul with her, and yet his longing for her salvation was just as great. He must not wait.
He must not waste this opportu
nity. Already a part of the distance to the office had been traveled. Who knew how soon something woul
d occur to break in upon the op
portunity and it would be gone forever? Was he to waste this one also? With sudden eagerness he broke off in a sentence about some mutual friends they were speaking of and said:

"Miss Rutherford, pardon me for interrupting this line of thought, but my heart is so full of something I want to say to you, that I do not feel I can wait any longer."

Evelyn turned wondering eyes upo
n him. She was not without expe
rience with young men. Not a few had
told her of their undying affec
tion, and asked for hers in return.
These opening words sounded al
most like some of theirs. Could it be that she was to add him to the list of men whom she rather despised in her heart for pledging their life and being ready to give their all to a pretty face without knowing much about the heart that was behind it? She had not time to reason this out. The idea merely flashed into being and flashed out again as it was quickly followed by the certainty that there was something of a
vastly different nature to be spoken of
, with a consciousness of satis
faction that this man was different from those others,

"I have blamed myself and have suffered for a whole year," went on her companion, "that I did not speak before, and have longed and hardly hoped for this opportunity."

In wondering silence Evelyn walked by his side. All sorts of possibi
l
ities went through her brain, none of which seemed adequate for the intensity of his language. She began to think that after all it must be a proposal and a sense of pleasure filled her at the thought. Then her pride rose in arms as she realized once more that his face did not look as if he were going to ask for her hand in marriage. She must not be blamed for making this the central thought of her life. It had been the only end to be attained, set forth to her from her babyhood. Even her father had unconsciously fostered it Her nurses and teachers had trained her for the time when she would be married; her friends and associates talked of nothing else than their conquests. Naturally it seemed to her a thing worth boasting that she had won the love of many men. She was yet to learn that the love of one true man is worth a life's devotion, and the love of the hundred who
fling their hearts about to the highest bidder or the prettiest face, and then furbish them up again for the next trial as good as new, is not worth a thought

The young man had paused and Evelyn's eyes were lifted to meet such a hungering, tender gaze that she dropped them immediately. It was a different look from any she had ever met before. What did it mean? She had never yet met one in whose eyes blazed a passion for souls, that look that is the nearest reflection of His likeness earth can give. She did not understand it and it choked her.

It was not at all what he had planned to say. The Spirit seemed to guide his low-spoken, impassioned words:

"I have a confession to make to you, and I am humiliated more than I can tell you at my shortcomings. A year ago I spent nearly three hours In your company. I talked of my family, my friends, my books, and my best life, but so far as I can remember I breathed no word of my best and dearest Friend."

The listener almost halted. Had he then brought her out here to tell
her he was engaged? And for what? Did he fear she would expect his attention? Had she shown a particular delight in his society? The ready scorn mounted to her face, but melted as his words went on.

"It may seem strange to you, Miss Rutherford, that I love Jesus Christ better than my life, and have consecrated myself to his service. But I do, and I want you to know that he is a dear friend, and that his service is my highest joy. It seems incredible that feeling as I do I should allow myself to be
in the company of any
one for three hours without hinting anything that would lead that one to suppose that I knew Jesus Christ, and I can only
say that I am ashamed and humil
iated, and have resolved in future to witness for my Master wherever I may have opportunity."