Bright Arrows (21 page)

"They had wars in Bible times, didn't they? Does God like war? If not, why does He allow it?"

"No, God doesn't
like
war, but He uses it sometimes to punish His people who are sinning. He allows it to serve His own purposes. He sometimes sent different nations against those who were not keeping His commandments, who had sinned against Him. He sent the Medes against Babylon to destroy it. He sent word to them, to get their weapons ready. 'Make bright the arrows.' You know that means to sharpen them, get them ready for use. And 'gather the shields.' They had to have bright arrows, not rusty ones that would do no good when they hit the mark."

"But how would that apply to us?" asked Eden, puzzled. "That is, Christians. Does He want them to fight, too?"

"Yes, He has told us that we are all in a warfare, 'not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world.' And He has told us to 'put on the whole armour of God.' And the weapon we are to use is the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. I have always thought that that must be like the bright arrows that were to be kept sharp and polished and ready for use. And it has seemed to me that we should be very diligent about keeping that sword polished and ready, those arrows of God, His own words, bright and flashing as they speed to reach the enemy. And, of course, the enemy is not just people who don't agree with us, a mistake some make that causes awful trouble. The enemy is the devil who blinds and confuses people as to what is the real truth. That is why we ought to be often studying God's Word, so that it will be on the very tips of our tongues, ready to be used at a time of need. And the Spirit will always tell us
when
that time has come so that we shall not be wasting its bright flashing at an unseemly time. There will be times when the foe presses hard when a few of those bright arrows flashing through the air may bring great victory."

"That is wonderful. I've never heard anybody bring out those thoughts before. Bright arrows. God's Word in my heart, on my tongue, might be that, do you mean? Might speed the truth and make futile the darts of the enemy? And with the shield of my faith in God I shall not be hurt?"

"That's right. You have the idea. I think you had it before I spoke, for that verse you left with Tabor tonight was truly a bright arrow against the fear of worry and trouble. You know many verses like that. God will teach you when to use them. And now, how about a bit of music, some of your sweet hymns? Wouldn't they help Tabor to trust and not worry, and you and me, too, perhaps? First you play some of those sweet hymns your father used to love, and then maybe we could sing:

 

"Be not dismayed whate'er betide,

God will take care of you;

Beneath His wings of love abide,

God will take care of you."

 

For answer Eden sat down at the piano and began to play softly, the tender sweet melodies her father used to love, and with which she was sure Tabor was most familiar. Lorrimer sat in the big chair nearby, just in the shadow, and watched her admiringly. Eden's face was full of feeling, for she was going back in spirit to the evenings when her dear father had sat listening, sometimes chiming in with his sweet tenor that had once been so strong and thrilling.

And now after a few minutes her fingers went softly into the gospel song they both knew, and their voices mingled in the tender words, "God will take care of you."

As the last note died softly away they looked up, and there stood Janet with her tray. Hot scones, tiny sponge cakes, hot chocolate topped with whipped cream.

"Mr. Tabor sent ye worrud, thank ye baith fer the singin', an' tae tell ye it were juist like heaven tae hear ye."

Their faces lit up.

"We hoped he would like it," said Eden.

"Yes, tell him we are glad he liked it."

They lingered over the delicious meal, making a gala supper of the simple fare, and when Janet came back and saw that Lorrimer was about to leave, she said, "We'll be all richt, dinna fear. Mike's stayin' the night hisself."

Lance Lorrimer took Eden's hands for a brief clasp, pressing her fingers warmly, smiling into her eyes.

"Good night, dear lady! We'll be praying!" he said, and Janet, bless her heart, smiled to herself at the words she thought she heard with her deaf ears.

 

For several days the careful guarding of Eden went on, though they didn't say much about it to the girl herself. Mr. Worden had warned them all not to frighten Eden. But Eden was not frightened, and she made them all understand that so thoroughly that even Janet realized it. Though she always insisted on going out with her whenever Eden felt she ought to go anywhere.

And the police had an organized guard about the house, for, to tell the truth, they had discovered that the garments behind which Lavira had hidden in the toolhouse on her first escape were gone this time, though no one had discovered that until the second day. The police didn't tell Eden, but they had a little something more to go on to broadcast her description than at first. And presently they discovered that a person of Mrs. Fane's description and clad in a worn old cloak and a long green skirt and brown veil had been reported hitchhiking along a road two hundred miles to the west of Glencarroll. Another day or two brought word from watching police who had been on the alert since Lavira Fane's disappearance from the jail that such a woman had been picked up by a kindly farmer-couple and carried on fifty miles farther.

Then silence for two days, and the report of a woman arrested for stealing garments in a store in the Northwest. For by this time Lavira's prison picture had been sent about. It was considered an important case, and there were two persons involved in the holdup as well as several valuable jewels that had been found on them. But there was no doubt but that this woman arrested for stealing clothing was guilty, for she had the stolen goods in her possession, and so she was held. She gave, of course, another name. She said she was Annette Coleman, lived in a small town in Iowa, had always wanted something pretty, and had intended, of course, to pay for what she had taken when she got home to her husband.

Investigation showed that there was no living husband, and no home, and no town where she said she lived. And when confronted by her own snapshot from the prison record in Glencarroll, the look in her eyes as she denied that it was her picture made them sure she was the same woman who was wanted in Glencarroll.

But having got away from the police a number of times, Lavira bided her time and made a getaway again, heading this time toward a hideout in a lonely range of mountains where she felt reasonably sure she would find her son, together with the promised string of "red beads," which would amply finance their further movements.

But the police in the Midwest were on the alert, and Lavira was soon brought back to police headquarters and put in safekeeping to await a trial. As her misdemeanor in the department store was the most recent offense, it had priority, and so the woman was held in the Western town.

So the days went by and the household of Thurston grew more at ease. Eden forgot her perplexities, and her face took on a more rested look.

Also Tabor was rapidly getting well now. The doctor was letting him sit up for a few minutes each day, and his wound was healing nicely. If things went on as well as this, the doctor said he could count on being able to be about pretty soon and perhaps attend to little duties, like opening the door for callers and setting tables and so on.

Lance Lorrimer was away. When he telephoned to call off a date with Eden to go to a meeting in the city, he said he was being sent away on business and wasn't sure how long he would have to stay, nor where he might have to go before he returned. Eden felt a great dismay after she had hung up the receiver. It seemed somehow as if something important was gone, and then she reproved herself. How ridiculous of her! She must not get so interested in a young man that his coming and going meant so much to her that she was desolate without him. After all, there were not so many others with whom she could talk about the things that interested her. But she simply must snap out of this and get interested in something to keep her busy.

To that end she decided to join a Bible class that Lorrimer had told her about. It met in the evenings, of course, but she could take Janet with her and go in the car, if the police were still insistent that she should not go anywhere alone till those Fanes were caught.

And then that very evening when she had decided to make a start, a caller arrived just after dinner, who turned out to be Niles Nevin. He at once announced his intention of taking the midnight train to New York to be ready for some business matters the next day. He had stopped off here, partly at his sister's insistence and partly for his own selfish desire to spend the evening with Eden. He said he had come to coax her to return with him to Florida when he came back in a couple of days.

Eden didn't exactly like to tell him that she had other plans for her evening, for, after all, he had come out of his way to see her, and he was her dear friend's brother. Besides, this wasn't the only night she could go to the class, so she settled down to entertain the handsome young man, who had no serious interest in life save an occasional business trip to sign a few papers and look idly into matters of his own personal income. Even that he considered a great bore and had no hesitation in saying so. Yet he certainly was good looking and interesting, could talk well and entertainingly, could describe charmingly a view he had seen, of mountains or river or sea, and depict the frailties and follies of both his friends and enemies in a most amusing way. He could mimic and portray engagingly the people he had met in Florida and on his journeys, and he could make time disappear in a flash, so that most amazingly it was time for his midnight train before she realized the evening was half over.

Yet when, as he rose to leave, he began to press her decision again to go back with him to Florida, Eden knew at once she did not want to go. Though she had to own to herself that she had enjoyed the evening and that she could readily adapt herself to the kind of living he and his sister were evidently doing, somehow she was not in the mood for it now. What was the matter with her? Was it just because her father was gone and she could not get used to the change and loneliness? No, that could not be it alone, for she had been prepared for that for some time before he left her.

And this was a pleasant young man, one whom she felt could be a delightful companion. But somehow it was a strange thing. She found as she looked back after the evening was over that she had been constantly comparing him with Lance Lorrimer, trying to match him up with Lance. Why, it was just as if two kinds of life were being held up for her to choose from, and that was so silly. In the first place there was no choice. Lance was away, and he hadn't given any indication that he had time or interest in being a friendly companion except during that one evening when the Fanes were bothering again. And here was a young man who did not hesitate to proclaim his interest in her, and she didn't want him! Yet she couldn't explain to herself why she wasn't interested.

And then, the next morning, came a brief letter from Lance Lorrimer. It began,

 

Dear Eden,

I did not ask if I might write to you, because I was hoping that my errand would not keep me so long away. The end is not yet in sight. But I want to tell you how disappointed I am that I was not able to take you to that meeting we planned to attend.

I hope you found a way to get there. I thought perhaps Janet would go with you, for I knew you would enjoy it. However, if this business ever gets itself over with and I can return, I hope you will allow me to make up for it.

I find myself very glad that you are in our heavenly Father's care and that you know Him and rest in Him. I am not forgetting to pray for you.

Your friend in Christ,

Lance Lorrimer

 

Eden went about her morning's affairs humming a soft little song of happiness after that letter came. It wasn't filled with a great admiration, nor coaxing her to do anything for him. It gave no address where she might write to him, and it didn't claim any exclusive interest for himself. It was almost impersonal in its tone, and yet there was about it an atmosphere of deep friendship, of feeling that they were one in their interests, and an assurance that an absence either long or short could not change their relationship. That they would always understand each other.

After she had read the letter and reread it several times, she began to wonder in herself if perhaps the main reason why she did not want to go to Florida was just because she wanted to be right here waiting when Lance came back, not to miss welcoming him home. And if that was the case, perhaps she ought in honesty to herself and to Lance go away to Florida and get over this silly idea that her interest must be in him. She toyed with the thought, and then she read her mother's last few letters over again. But when Niles Nevin came back and stopped to see if she had made up her mind to go back with him to his sister, and said they could get a plane and make a very brief trip of it, she told him so. She simply could not go away now. There were things she must do. Important things. But she hoped they would stop to see her in the spring when they came back. And then she found she was glad when the door closed behind him and he was gone.

"But I'm going to write you," he warned her, "and I shall expect letters back. I shall demand them. For you and I have just got to get better acquainted."

Well, she told herself, perhaps this was according to her mother's advice, to go slowly in choosing her friends and not jump to a conclusion that a man with a handsome face, and riches, and a pleasant manner was the companion she should choose for life. Let him write--for a while perhaps. She would see what he was like. It might be better to judge a man by his letters than any other way.