CRIMSON MOUNTAIN (17 page)

In the soft light of the setting sun, they knelt together in the pleasant living room while their hostess prayed a simple prayer for them, and then as she lingered for a moment on her knees, Phil Pilgrim spoke. “Oh Lord, I want to take You now as my Savior. I don’t know very much about it all yet, but I want to learn, and I’m accepting it and trusting You to take me and to teach me what You want me to do. And—bless us
both!”

Laurel’s voice was clear and sweet as she followed. “Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, I do now accept Thee as my Lord and Savior. Teach me to do Thy will and help me in the long way alone, for Jesus’ sake.”

When they arose, there was a solemn joy in their faces, as if they somehow felt that the Lord had been right there beside them, making them sure they were saved. And as they looked at one another, the slowly sinking sun shot out a gorgeous light across the room upon them, like sudden glory, as if to crown what they had done. Then Phil Pilgrim quoted softly, “I got a glory, and I’ve got to live up to it.” And he smiled to himself quietly as he saw the reflection of the same thought in the eyes of the lovely girl across the room.

They went to the evening church service. They were quite eager to go and were as interested as any of the little earnest group in the chapel.

Then afterward Mrs. Gray made them come in with her again for toast and hot chocolate. And so it was quite late when they went back to the boardinghouse.

They put the car away in the garage, and then as they reached the side door where Laurel would naturally go in, Pilgrim drew her back from the steps.

“Let’s just take a little walk around a block or two, shall we? I don’t know whether I shall be able to see you much before I leave tomorrow. You have to go to school in the morning, don’t you? What time?”

“I must be at the building a little before eight,” she said, her voice almost sad.

“And I must meet the engineers very early,” he said with something that sounded like a sigh.

Hand in hand they walked along the quiet street, Laurel’s fingers held close, with something almost possessive in the grasp, or perhaps it would be better to say wistful, if fingers can express wistfulness. And the girl’s hand nestled quietly in the boy’s, thrilled at his touch. There were tears very near the surface and a feeling as if she were going to tremble. Silly of course, a girl about to be a schoolteacher, to feel this way at parting from a man she had only known two days! Yet they had been such precious days! Her fingers, at the thought, answered the pressure of his with a feeling too deep for mere words.

They walked around two or three blocks, coming into a quiet street where deep evergreens hedged the sidewalk, and their steps lagged more and more.

“Strange,” he said in a low tone, “that we should know each other so well, as if it had been always!”

“I was just thinking that,” murmured Laurel. “It doesn’t seem as if I could let you go this way! Into war! How terrible life is sometimes!”

“Yes.” He was still a long time, holding her hand closer. And then, with a kind of a ring in his voice, he said, “But we are both ‘saved.’ If the worst comes, there will be heaven afterward. I never believed much in heaven, but now somehow I do. It does make a difference to believe! I didn’t expect a real difference, but there is. Do you feel it?”

“Yes. Oh yes. But anyway, it isn’t always
feeling
, I guess. To be saved means to be safe! And whether I feel it or not, I
know
it is true. I’ve always known that, only I didn’t let myself think about it.”

He slipped her hand within his arm and drew her closer to his side, comfortingly close, her hand still in his.

“I’m glad we found the Lord—together—today. At least
you
used to know Him, you say, but somehow our kneeling there together and binding ourselves to His service, it seemed to make a tie, a sort of relationship we didn’t have before! It made us both children of God, and where I had no right before, I now can claim a relationship with you.”

“Don’t say you had no right before,” said Laurel earnestly. “You
had
a right, the right of an old friend and schoolmate, and then the right of one who had saved my life and had been kind. Surely that was enough to offset the long years when we didn’t know each other. And now—yes, I see what you mean. This does make us know one another better because we have come into Christ’s service together. Yes, I am glad, too.”

They walked a little farther, saying nothing, and then Laurel spoke again. “I am going to try to grow in the spiritual life,” she said thoughtfully. “Mrs. Gray has asked me to go to her evening Bible study class, and I am going. Will you have any place to go in camp that will help you to study the Bible?”

“I’m not sure. I’m afraid not. They do have services there that are not compulsory, of course. I’ll be looking around when I get back. That’ll be my first concern. Meantime, if you come on anything great, would you mind jotting it down and mailing it to me? I’d be interested if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“I’ll be delighted to do that,” said Laurel. “That will be interesting, and also it will help me to remember what I have heard. I’ll send you a résumé of the class every time. Of course, if you get tired and bored and aren’t interested anymore, you can tell me so.”

“I shall not get tired. I shall not lose my interest,” said Pilgrim gravely. “I rather fancy I shall just live for those lessons to arrive. It will be great to have a link like that with you. And to feel that it is really through you that I have got to know God! If I had not come on you standing there alone in the road and needing help, I might have gone right on not knowing or thinking any more about God or being saved than I ever did and just as alone and hopeless as I have been through the years. You say I saved your life. Well, however that may be, you certainly saved my life, and I shall be thankful to you throughout eternity. I’m saying this to you now because I’m going away, and I may never have another chance to
say
it to you. Of course I could write it, but this is the kind of thing that ought to be
said
if possible, not just written. It needs to be said in a tone that comes straight from the heart.”

And then once more he stooped and touched his lips reverently to the tips of the fingers he held warmly in his hand. “Perhaps you think I am presuming,” he said suddenly, “and I guess I am. If I were not going so soon, perhaps never to see you again, I would not force these things upon your notice. But you see, I want you to know how I feel about it. I have to run the risk of your thinking me a fool or that you think I am treating you lightly.”

“I think it is
precious!”
said Laurel earnestly. “I shall always treasure the memory of what you have said as the most beautiful thing that was ever said to me.”

Her voice was very soft and husky, and there were tears on her lashes. As Pilgrim looked down at her through the dusky moonlight sifting through the branches of the hemlock trees, she seemed to him the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

“You see, I—
love
you!” he explained, his voice warm with feeling. “Oh, I know it is too soon to tell you a thing like that, and I cannot go on and say more as I would like to do, for I am a soldier, and I must go away tomorrow. There may never be any more time to tell you. And I wanted you to know it before I go away to face whatever God has for me to meet.”

Suddenly Laurel turned and threw her arms around his neck, drawing his face down to hers, and laid her warm lips full upon his with a quick, tender kiss.

Just then the sound of footsteps came around the corner, only a few yards away, and Laurel wilted back into her place and went on very demurely. “You rated that,” she said shyly, “and you may take it with you to remember me by till you come again.”

Pilgrim caught her hand and held it tightly, steadying her to walk past the people who were coming. And then there were others, and still others, in the near distance. Church must be just out. A good many people were on the streets going home. So the two young people walked quietly along with no sign of their wildly beating hearts or the joy that was all but overwhelming them. No talking at all till they came to the gate of the boardinghouse, and there was Mrs. Price standing in the front door talking to a woman and keeping a sharp eye down the street.

“I’d better stop right here,” whispered Pilgrim as he sighted the lookout. “It’s just as well you should be questioned about uniforms, you know.”

“I know,” said Laurel. “But oh, can’t I see you again? Don’t you know when you have to go? When is your train?”

“I think the last one leaves around four thirty. If there’s a chance at all, I’ll get in touch with you. Perhaps by phone. Do you know when your school hours close?”

“I think around three. But of course they may ask me to stay to get instructions for the week or something.”

“Yes, of course. Well, we won’t plan for anything. Just take what comes.” He smiled sadly. “But—you’ll be writing?”

“Yes, I’ll be writing,” said Laurel with a note of joy in her voice.

“You have the address I gave you?”

“Yes, safe and sound in my purse. But I have it in my memory, too. Don’t worry. And suppose you send me word when you arrive in camp, please. I’ll want to know if you got there all right, you know, and if they are sending you away anywhere soon. Don’t forget!”

“Sure! No, I won’t forget!”

There was no opportunity for tender farewells now, for a bevy of young people were drifting down the street.

“Such a mob!” exclaimed Pilgrim under his breath, but he reached out and squeezed her hand again, and then with a mighty effort, he tore himself away and hurried out of sight.

Laurel went on the few steps to the gate, into the house, and up the stairs. The landlady looked curiously after her and studied the way her hat was trimmed. It certainly was smart and attractive.

But Laurel hurried up the stairs, locked herself in her room, and went over to the moonlit window, hoping to be able to catch a glimpse of Pilgrim. But he had disappeared into the tree shadows. So she stood there for a little while looking out, her cheeks burning hot in the darkness at the memory of the kiss she had given him. Would he think her forward and bold? He evidently wasn’t a man who went around kissing girls promiscuously. But oh, how dear and wonderful he had been. And he had said,
“I love you!”

How the memory of those words thrilled her, even though they hid the possibility of war and death coming between them forever. But this was something that must not be thought of with sadness, just a great gladness that it was true. So strange and dear and true!

What would Cousin Carolyn say if she knew about it? Cousin Carolyn who wanted her to marry a rich, worldly man, a man who did not know the Lord Jesus whom she and Phil Pilgrim had just taken for Savior and Master. Oh, the world was wonderful all the way she had been led. Even though it brought sorrow and parting and hard days in the wake of every joy!

Two days, and then
this
!

Then she went to kneel beside her bed and thank God that He had brought Phil Pilgrim into her life.

T
hat first Monday at school was a day of excitement and hard work for Laurel. New things to learn, new pupils to meet, a whole day’s program to put into practice, and with all this the necessity of doing it all as if she were accustomed to such routine and were not just utterly new that day to the business of teaching.

But underneath it all there was a great gladness in her heart like a lovely tune that kept thrilling her. Phil Pilgrim had said, “I love you,” and again and again the words shot joyfully through her. Perhaps the sweet melody helped her to keep a poise through her unaccustomed duties, for more than one of her eager young pupils went home and reported, “She has the most heavenly smile you ever saw! I like her a lot!”

As the day with its duties wore on, she found herself looking out as she passed the window, hoping against hope that she would see Pilgrim going by. Was he back yet from the work on Crimson Mountain, and would he have time to come by the school? Her heart was in a young tumult, wondering what time the school would set her free to go and whether she could possibly meet him just to say good-bye. She knew that he hoped to sell his car this morning and that he had errands at the bank and somebody’s office. And he did not think it wise on her account to appear around the schoolhouse. But surely she would get away in time to get to the station to at least wave a good-bye.

She was hindered a little when school was out, getting directions from the superintendent, talking with some of the teachers. After all, this was her job, and she must not run away from it, much as she wanted one more glimpse of Pilgrim.

But at last she was free, and, evading a group of teachers who would have lingered to talk with her, she hurried to her car and drove quickly to Mark’s garage. And there stood Pilgrim’s car, a stranger about to get in.

Mark eyed her with a familiar grin as she drove up.

“Has Mr. Pilgrim been here yet?” she asked.

“Yep. He just left for the station, I think. He sold his car. Did you know?” and Mark nodded toward the old jalopy that was rolling away, almost sadly it seemed to Laurel.

“Oh, did he?” she said. “That’s nice. He wanted to sell it.”

“Sure he did. He wouldn’t have no use fer a car down at camp.”

“I suppose not,” said Laurel pleasantly. “Well, I’ll be seeing you when I want gas again, or repairs.” Then she drove on around a corner and headed toward the station.

It was very near to train time, and she hurried. She mustn't miss him now.

She saw him standing at the end of the platform, his baggage at his feet, looking out down the road. Was he looking for her?

Then almost at once he saw her and his face lighted. She drove up, parked a little way from the station, and went across to stand with him. It was the end of the platform away from the town and quite sheltered by shrubbery. How thoughtful he was, always protecting her from small annoyances that she had not even thought of herself!