An Unwilling Guest (8 page)

If the young man by her side had suddenly burst out in an eloquent tone in the Choctaw language, or
in
Sanskrit, or some other equally unknown tongue, Miss Rutherford would not have been surprised. A wild thought that he might be losing his mind flitted past her, but a look into the calm, steady eyes watching her so earnestly put that to flight. She looked down once more. There seemed to be nothing for her to say and she felt that he was not done.

"I am going to make a clean breast of it and tell you the whole story in as few words as possible. That night after I met you at the old rum it all came over me that I had been with you so long and might never see you again, and yet I had not even found out if you loved my
Saviour
. We had compared notes about our tastes
in
books and many other things. We seemed in harmony on many questions. It grieved me more and more as I thought of it that I had
not found out if you were plan
ning to spend eternity in heaven, and that I had said no word to urge you to
in
case you were not thinking of it. And so I made bold to pray for you. I hope you will not feel it was presumption. And as I prayed I grew to long so for you to love Christ that sometimes I felt I must
try to do something about it, though there seemed nothing I could do but go on praying. And so I have prayed for you every day since we last met," He paused and looked down at the silent girl beside him.

"Are you angry with me, Miss Rutherford, for presuming to take such an interest in your welfare?" There was a pleading in his tone
which compelled her to answer, though all the haughtiness was gone from her voice and it was quite unsteady.

"No, I am not angry," she said softly.

"And you will believe that my
Saviour
was and is more to me than my very life, in spite of the fact that I have done nothing to prove it to you?" "

"I have known from the beginning tha
t you were different from every
one else I ever met," answer
ed Evelyn. "But I did not under
stand what made it—and—I do not think I understand now."

"And will you let me try to tell you? May I have the joy of bringing to you that great, great love that Jesus has for you?"

"And so 'twas a love story after all," mused Evelyn, and one in which her experience stood her in no stead.

The tall elms dropped the yellow l
eaves and the maples their crim
son before them as they walked down the quiet streets. The interested neighbors looked out upon them and wondered, but the destiny of a soul was
in
the balance and the two who were most interested thought not of anything else.

"Maria, just come here, quick!" said Rebecca
Bascomb
, peeping through the closed blinds of the par
lor where she was dusting. "For
ever! If that
ain't
Maurice Grey! When did he come home?
Ain't
he grown? I never thought he'd be so grand looking. And who's that with him? His sister? No, you never saw Allison out in any such rig as that
.
A white dress in the morning! and a red flannel sack! I'll be beat! She looks for a
ll
the world like a circus rider. Did you ever? Who can she be, tricked out like that? He
ain't
been and got married has he? Maybe she's some actress he's brought home as his bride. I should think if that's so the
fam'ly
'd never want to
li
ft their heads again, as down on the theatre as they've always been. Step out o' sight, Maria, she's
lookin
' this way. I think I'll run over and take that recipe for fruit cake Mrs. Grey asked for last fall, and borrow her cookie cutter this afternoon. Ours is all wore out"

If our destinies could be affected by every word that is spoken about us or every glance of misunderstanding that is thrown upon us, how precarious would be our way. And how trivial will seem some of our
thoughts about others when we realize at the judgment day that at the very time we were
criticizing
them, eternal and momentous questions were being decided.

God's ways... soon or late..,

Touch the shining hills of day.

The evil cannot brook delay,

The good can well afford to wait

M
eanwhile Allison in her room wept out her bitterness and knelt for comfort. Then she bathed her eyes and arranged her hair, and b
us
ied herself about little duties in her room till the traces of tears should be gone, wondering presently why her mother did not call her or come in search of her.

The loving mother, supposing Allison to be with the other two young people, patiently did the work
in
the kitchen, rejoicing that the shadow was lifted from her dear child's heart and hoping to see her bright and sunny when she returned. It was so unusual to have Allison other than laughing and sweet that it oppressed her. She was glad to have her out in the sunshine, and sang softly about her work the verse of a hymn which had lingered with her from last Sunday's service:

Spirit of God, descending,

Fill our hearts with heavenly joy;

Love with every passion blending,

Pleasure that can never cloy;

Thus provided, pardoned, guided,

Nothing can our peace destroy.

Perchance the evil one wished to show her that this last line of her hymn was not true, for at that moment for some reason she was moved to go into the sitting room on an errand, and raising her eyes to the window she saw walking slowly up the driveway in deep and earnest converse, her son and their guest. The glimmer of the brilliant scarlet jacket flashed between the trees, and the mother looked for the duller blue of her daughter's to follow, but look as she might no Allison was in sight, and the two who walked thus together did not seem to need a
third. She wondered what it could mean. Had Allison remained at the store on some petty excuse? Was the child carrying her ill feeling so far? The song died on her lips and pea
ce picked up her fluttering gar
ments and fled for the time being.

The guest went straight to her room. The mother sought her son with a troubled expression which the son could not fathom, and which in his exalted mood he soon forgot. Where was Allison? In her room, he thought. She had asked them not to wait for her and they had been to the post office. He was reading letters, but his mind did not seem to be on them. His face wore an abstracted air, "illumined," was the word his mother thought of when he looked up at her in an answer to her question:

"My son, did I understand you that you had met Miss Rutherford before last evening?"

"Yes, mother, she is an old friend. I knew her in New York, and met her abroad. Her brother was in college with me," and so far had he progressed in his acquaintance with
the lady in question that he ac
tually thought as he spoke that his words, "she is an old friend," were true.

It was then her mother heart started up in fear at that look upon her boy's face. Oh, if he should put his heart in the keeping of one who was not worthy!

"Do you know her character, my boy?" she asked, and if Maurice had not been so abstracted he would have noticed that his mother's face wore an unwonted look of pain, almost agony. "Is she a—Christian?"

"Mother, she
--
" he hesitated,
and then with his peculiarly w
in
n
ing smile put both his hands in hers just as he used to do when he was
a little boy giving her sweet confidences, and looking frankly in her
eyes finished, "Mother, she needs Christ. Will you help me pray for
her?"

There was that in the reply that baffled the mother while it could not be resisted. She kissed him and gave her promise tenderly. She would not ask him further of his relations to their guest She knew he would tell her if there was anything she should know. She knew she could trust him, and yet her heart was troubled until she took her worry to that never-failing source of comfort, her
Saviour
. She was a woman who, in an unusual sense, had learned to lay her burden at her Lord's feet and leave it there. Sometimes her friends did not understand this calmness and were wont to think her indifferent or blind to possible dangers; but those who knew her best had learned to believe that it was simple trust which smoothed her brow and kept her young and fair.

She went to Allison at last with the care gone from her face and found her daughter, not
in
her room, but down in the kitchen flying around with unnecessary haste in preparation for an elaborate meal to make up for her absence from the work in the morning. She seemed cheery, though her mother could see it was a forced emotion, but the wise mother judged it best to accept the cheeriness and not let her daughter know just at present that
she was aware of her having re
mained at home all the morning.

They talked about the dinner and the mother ignored the fact that the dishes were out of the usual orde
r of everyday planning. She en
tered into the work with as much seeming eagerness as Allison was manifesting and between them they managed to keep up a semblance of sunshine.

"Maurice said he would have the surrey ready right after dinner. He thinks it would be pleasant for you to take Miss Rutherford up the hill drive. The coloring of the woods will be in perfection of beauty now. You would better plan to start right after dinner so that you will have plenty of time. I will see to the dishes."

"O mother!" said Allison in dismay, appearing
in
the kitchen door with the butter plate
in
her hand, "aren't you going too?"

"I can't, dear. You know it is the missionary society day. I have one of the papers to read and it would not do to be absent. Besides, Miss Rutherford has sent some messages to them by me about the box we are packing. I really could not stay away."

Allison turned back to the table upon
which she was putting the fin
ishing
touches before calling the family to dinner. She could see her brother sitting
in
the parlor by the window, his fine profile outlined against the window, and she could hear the soft strains of the piano
touched by a cultivated hand. Allison could play herself, and had a tender touch all her own which reached hearts. But she knew she could not play like that. She could see the app
reciation in her brother's atti
tude. Her heart rose in rebellion again. Was it jealousy also that was seizing her as its
’
prey? She walked to the dining-room window where she had thought out so many disagreeable problems during the past three days, and leaned her head against the cool pane. As she studied the fretwork of vines and tendrils on the wall outside her chin grew firm with resolve. When she turned away from that window and went silently about her interrupted work she knew in her heart that she did not intend to take that drive in the afternoon, and she also thought she knew a way out of it. Nevertheless she sat at the table and listened to the plans, acquiescing quietly in all they said about the road to take and the hour of starting. It was arranged to give her time for helping with the dinner dishes before she went. She had hoped they would let her off to help her mother, but it became evident that something would have to be planned.

Promptly at the time agreed upon the carriage drove up to the door and Miss Rutherford was handed i
n. Allison appeared a moment af
terward carrying two books in her hand.

"Well, sister, do you propose to pursue the study of literature this afternoon while the rest of us feast on nature?" asked her brother, as he took the books while she got in. "Library books!" he said, frowning slightly. "Now, Allison, you are not planning to go around there first, are you? It will delay us awfully, for you are morally certain to be longer than you expect, and besides, it is out of the way. Can't you let these go another week?"

"No, the time is up," said Allison with satisfaction.

"Well, what of that? A fine? I'll pay it gladly if you'll give it up."

Allison looked troubled. She had not thought of this. Maurice was apt to carry his point when he was anxious.

"Maurice,
really they ought to go back to
day. Mrs. Lynch has been waiting for that blue book and I told h
er we should be done with it to
day and she promised to
be there and get it before any
one else snatched it up."

Maurice whistled and reluctantly got
into the carriage the while Al
lison's brow cleared. Having set her will not to go she really wished not to do so.

Arrived at the library she promptly arranged the rest. She had been gone but two or three minutes when Mi
ss Burton, one of the ladies in
terested in the library, came out to the carriage.

"Dr. Grey, good-afternoon," she said. "Your sister has been so kind as to take my place as librarian this afternoon, as I have quite a severe headache, and she asked me to tell you not to wait for her. She is very good indeed."

As there was nothing to be said to this the carriage started on. Wily Allison knew there could be no contention over the matter if she sent Miss Burton to speak for her, and she set herself to straighten out a muddle in the books with the firm intention of forgetting her troubles if she could. However that was not so easily managed, as she found
herself from time to tim
e following the carriage as it wound its way among the hills, and about midway
in the afternoon it suddenly oc
curred to her that if her object had been real love and fear for her brother she would have gone along, for surely the stranger could less easily exercise her wiles upon his unsu
specting heart with a third per
son present than if they were entirely alone. Poor Allison! She vexed herself with the thought that she had been selfish in staying at home, and made several mistakes in sett
ing down the number of books re
turned. When the hour for closing came she was weary and glad to walk quietly home.

Meantime, the two who were riding into the glory of the afternoon could not be said to have really missed her. Her brother felt now and then a twinge of pity that she was shut up from the beauties they were enjoying all this long afternoon, but i
t never once came to his compre
hension that his sister was really suffering because she was having so little of his own precious society. He was not an egotistical young man. Besides, his present occupation was pleasant.

They talked of many things. Now and then the young man would speak of his Christian work, or of the God who made the beauties they were looking upon. Once they stopped the carriage on the brow of a
lofty hill where two other hills gave way and left an unexpected view of valley, river, and more purple hills
in the distance. The clear Octo
ber sky was perfect, as blue and bright as skies are made, with more of decision in it than comes in June, and with a few tiny, sharp, white scurrying clouds here and there like messengers hurrying about intent upon weighty matters in connection with the coming of the winter season.

They were silent as they looked. Such a view takes words away. Presently the young man said:

"I always think when I come to this spot how much I should like to be just here when Jesus Christ comes back to earth again. I like to wonder how the clouds will look, whether it will be sunset or early in the morning, or will the sky be like this. It seems sometimes, when there is a glorious sunset, as if he must be coming, and the gates of heaven have begun to open for the throng of angels. And the dead in Christ! How wonderful it will all be, with Jesus in their midst!"

The girl by his side looked up into his face. She had come into the front seat that she might better see the view. She could also the more easily watch the changing expressions on her companion's speaking face. His look was rapt now, and as he went on to speak in a few words more of the Jesus whom he loved, Evelyn Rutherford for the first time in her life felt that there really was such a person living now as Jesus Christ. Also for the first time, strange as it may seem, she saw a man who seemed to realize this presence as
much as he did that of any fel
low-creature. She could see that this was a reality with him, and she wondered and was awed.

They were both silent as the horse turned to wind down the hill again and around by another way home. Evelyn could not think of anything to say that would not seem frivolous, and she was conscious of a distinct wish not to seem frivolous before this man.

"Miss Rutherford, may I be so bol
d as to make a request of you?”
asked the young man, turning his bright, earnest eyes upon her as they neared the foot of the hill. "I have prayed for you so long, will you let me feel that you are praying for yourself? It will be a true joy to me."

It was a long time before there was any answer. She had looked at him at first with a quick, startled gaze and dropped her eyes again. Her fingers twined among the red and gray fringe of the heavy golf cape she wore, and the color crept slowly up over her smooth cheek till it almost reached the shadow of the dark, drooping lashes. Afterward, when he was far away, a vision of that fair face outlined against the dark green cloth of the golf-hood lingered in his mind, though he was not conscious of noting details as he watched for her answer. At last she said huskily: "How could I? I would not know what to say."