An Unwilling Guest (22 page)

"It will do her good," said the mother while she yet shrank from having her daughter leave her. "She needs to get out of herself and to have wider views of life. There is no telling for what God is preparing her and she must be ready to fill any place. She needs to see a little of cultured society."

The question of dress did not worry the mother. A breadth or two upside down was not such a serious thing at her time of life as it was to Allison.

"There is that black silk that has been lying in the trunk for two years waiting for a time when it was needed to be made up. You can take it as it is, and here is grandmother's real lace shawl. Take Miss Rutherford at her word and let her maid fix it up for you. She will only enjoy it. Don't you remember how she entered into fixing your old blue silk waist? You must have a new cloth dress of some sort, and that you can get in New York, ready-made, perhaps. Your father and I will attend to that. Keep your gold pieces for something you see when you get there."

And so Allison in fear and trembling bade good-bye to her class and her home and the dear protecting arms of mother, and started on her first trip into the world alone. Although she was twenty-one years old she had been so sheltered that in some things she was little more than a child.

When she had been on the train about half an hour the thought came to her that Evelyn would probably want to make her dress low-necked, at which she became so indignant and
altogether frightened that if it had been possible she wou
ld have turned back home and de
clared that the visit was impossible. But trains do not stop on fancy, and she sped on her way.

Her letter accepting the invitation had reached Evelyn one evening when the family was at dinner. A smile of real pleasure lit up her face as she read it.

"Dick," she said, laying down the letter beside her plate, "Allison Grey is coming to make me a visit. I i
nvited her last week and her an
swer has just come. She will be here Thursday evening."

"You don't say!" said her brother, looking up with interest from a legal document that had come in the mail. "I shall be glad to make her acquaintance. I have been quite curious to see her ever since your friend Bert was here. A girl that can influence a fellow of his make-up to keep away from a New York theatre when he has free tickets is quite a curiosity."

"Of whom are you speaking?" asked the father, laying down his paper and giving his attention once more to his soup.

"Allison Grey. She is Doctor Grey's sister, father, from
Hillcroft
. She is Aunt Joan's idol. You will like her, I am sure."

"Well, now, that will be quite a novelty. Anybody belonging to Doctor Grey and your Aunt Joan will certainly be welcome. I have often wished we could see some sensible young people around. When does she come?"

"Thursday evening," said Evelyn, again
referring
to the letter; "and, Dick, you'll certainly have to go with me to meet her. She will be lost in New York, for she never traveled alone before, and it is Marie's day out, so I can't take her."

"With pleasure," said the young man, smiling.

Evelyn took a childish pleasure in preparing for Allison's visit. She had not thought she could ever be so glad about anything as she was over the coming of this girl, who, after all, was but a mere stranger. She put the room next her own in dainty array for her reception. It might be that the true, homey look would be lacking, but Allison should have everything that money could buy to make that room beautiful for her.

The soft velvet carpet in blue and white gave back no sound. The heavy brass bed, with its draperies of costly lace over pale blue, and its blue silk eider-down quilt thrown across the foot; the elegant little dressing table, with its appointment of silver brushes, all spoke of a life of ease and elegance. Above the mantle she hun
g Hoffman's child pic
ture of the Christ.

When at last Allison stepped bewildered from the train and looked
about her at the crowds of people and the myriads of twinkling lights she wished she were at home. Then almost instantly her
bag was taken from her by some
one and a young man said in a pleasant voice:

"Miss Grey, I am Dick Rutherfo
rd. Welcome to New York! My sis
ter is over here out of the crowd. Will
you step this way?" and she fol
lowed him through what seemed to her a dense mass of humanity to where Evelyn stood.

It was all so different from the way they had met in
Hillcroft
. Evelyn had learned to be gentle and kind. Allison thought she had grown more beautiful, only paler, and wondered at the way she treated her. She took her in her arms and kissed her, actually, right in New York! No, not in New York yet, for there was that dreadful ferry to cross. She had been thinking of it with fear ever since it began to grow dark. How good it was of them to meet her on this side.

Then they led her to the ferryboat and Mr. Rutherford made a way for them to pass to the front that they might watch the lights of the great city coming nearer and nearer. It
was like a fairy dream to Alli
son. Never having seen anything like it before, she could not help thinking her thoughts aloud, and she said almost under her breath:

"Oh, it doesn't look like a wicked place. It seems as if it were heaven we were coming to!"

Some
one had crowded between Allison and Evelyn so that she did not hear, but her brother caught the low-spoken words, and his face grew grave at once as he watched the de
licate profile against the dark
ness of the night. He realized that here was a pure, sweet
soul
.

"It is by no means heaven," he said, with almost a sigh, and Allison, becoming conscious of what she had said, blushed and looked up at him shyly. She was not much used to young men, not men like this one, excepting her brother.

It was all like a beautiful dream after that. They found the carriage waiting at the end of the ferry, and at the house Evelyn led her to that lovely room and helped her to take off her things herself. There was not even a sign of the dreaded maid. Somehow Evelyn seemed to have developed a way of making one feel at e
ase, or was it because the real
ity was so much less to be dreaded than the anticipation? Allison
found she could laugh and talk quite naturally even when she was made to sit down in Evelyn's room wit
h a substantial and inviting re
past before her on a little table drawn before the fire, and afterward Evelyn made her tell all about her b
eloved Sunday-school class. Per
haps this more than anything else helped to still the homesick feeling. All the time they were talking Evelyn was studying the outlines of the other girl's face, drinking in every line and expression, and noting everything that could remind her of one who was to her as though he had been dead.

W
hen Evelyn said good-night,
before she closed the communica
ting door between the rooms, she kissed Allison on each cheek. 'That is one for your father and one for your mother," she said smiling. "I know you will miss those kisses. I wish I had such a mother as yours, Allison."

Allison was just ready to turn out her light when Evelyn knocked at the door once more and said gently: "May I come in a minute?"

She was in her white night dress, with the soft cloud of blue-black hair behind her. Allison, looking at her, wondered how she had ever thought her haughty and cold.

"Allison, will you pray for me?" she said half shyly. It was not like Evelyn to be shy, but it suited her well "I know you can pray," she added, "because you did in that meeting. I want you to pray with me
n
ow."

There was a sweet wistfulness in
her eyes as she looked up at her guest, and Allison, trembling, awed at the new duty which had been so unexpectedly thrust upon her, yet knelt down hand in hand with the girl she had dreaded—and sometimes feared—and prayed in tender, trembling tones for her. It was harder, this prayer, than any she had ever offered before.

And when she finally lay down to rest, she stayed awake to marvel. She was beginning to know already that it was right that she should have come. She thought over all the happenings since she came into the house; she remembered the young man's earnest face and his tone as he answered her, and liked it and wondered what the elder Mr. Rutherford was like. Then the face of father and mother drifted before
her, and of her brother, so far away. She resolved to write him soon of her visit; he would be pleased. And her thoughts were lost in dreams. The next thing she knew she heard the busy rumble of the hard-at-work, wide-awake city, and awoke to find it broad daylight. She was surprised, indeed, to find it nearly nine o'clock when she looked at her watch under her pillow, and hastened to dress.

Evelyn came to her presently and to
ld her not to hurry, that break
fast would be sent up to them presently.

Allison smiled to herself to think she had done the very same thing on her first morning that she had so despised Evelyn for doing a year ago, slept beyond the breakfast hour
. Was she beginning to learn al
ready the lessons that had been set for her on this visit?

It was all so pleasant and dreamlike, th
is life that Evelyn lived. Alli
son began to half wish it belonged to h
er. The deft, white-capped wait
ress, slipping in
and out with the dishes
, the grace and ease and dainti
ness of everything—how much her mother would enjoy it!

After breakfast, Evelyn said: "N
ow, what about clothes? I am responsible for bringing you off in
such a hurry, you know. What is to be made, and what is to be altered, and what is to be bought? I shall just enjoy helping you. Let us get anything of that sort off our minds and then we can be free to do what we please. You will not need to dress much, however, Allison. Is there anything to be done?"

Then Allison, in
her own frank way, moved by the genial manner of her hostess, confided the story of the blue broadcloth and its left gore, and went on to tell of the black silk and the lace shawl and a few other details of her toilet, asking timidly if Evelyn thought
the lace shawl could be used in
any way. Somehow,
in the light of New York, grand
mother's real lace shawl did not appear so very splendid after all.

They went to unpack the trunk, and Allison's courage rose when Evelyn unqualifiedly admired the lace shawl and declared it would drape beautifully. Marie was called upon the scene and Allison stood meekly watching her quick fingers as she took measurements like one who understood her business. Her pretty face dimpled into smiles at Evelyn's playful charge to make the dress as pretty as if it were for a princess, and she promised to do her best.

They whiled away the morning and most of the afternoon in this and other talk, Allison luxuriating now and then between times in the latest magazines that lay about in profusion; and then the time came to dress for dinner—that dreaded hour! Allison had not yet seen Mr. Rutherford. At luncheon she and Evelyn had been alone. She dreaded the ceremony of the evening meal, with the butler and the handsome young man looking at her. She dreaded the question of dress again, and began to wish once more she were at home. Why was it that a Christian could feel so miserable and o
ut of harmony with life just be
cause her environments had changed? It was all wrong. There must be something the matter with herself. Meanwhile what should she put on? She stood helplessly before her trunk when Evelyn came in. Now, there was among her clothes a certain little cream-colored China silk, a relic of the summer, plainly made, and little thought of by Allison. She had not thought of wearing it

"Put that on," said Evelyn; "I know you will look sweet in it, and where is that lovely old yellow lace scarf of your mother's you showed me? It will be charming. Here, let me fix you, dear—and a knot of black velvet in your hair."

Allison was amazed at the effect of the arrangement and the few touches. The white China silk no longer asserted itself for what it was, but served as a background for the long, rich scarf knotted fichu-style about her shoulders and hanging far down in front The band of black velvet about her neck and the touch of it in her gold hair completed the picture. She did not know half how lovely she was herself.

But some
one else saw it as she shyly came into the dining room a little later. Richard Rutherford drew his breath in quickly, as he was wont to do before an exquisite painting or a lovely bit of statuary, when he came forward to greet her. He held in his hand a bunch of magnificent roses.

"These look as if they belonged to you, Miss Grey," he said, as he separated a half-dozen heavy-headed white buds from those he held and handed them to her, their rich, dark green leaves showing off their lovely petals to perfection.

"Here, Evelyn, these are for you," and he gave the pink ones to his sister,

Allison buried her face in the flowers in delight and then fastened them in the knot of the lace at her breast, where they gave the last touch of art needed. She sat down to the table feeling that she was at a grand party. Yes, she was unsophistic
ated or she could never have en
joyed it so intensely nor dreaded it so deeply. For after all it was quite easy. She looked up to find Mr. Rutherford's kind, keen eyes upon her inquiringly. They were eyes like her de
ar Miss Joan's, only with a sad
ness in them and a lack of that light of peace. But they were pleasant, and she could see by his expression that he was pleased by what he saw.

Strange to say, during that first dinner, which had been regarded by her with so much apprehension, it was Allison who did most of the talking, and she directed her conversation to Mr. Rutherford, senior. Afterward she blushed to herself to remember it, and wondered if she had seemed very forwar
d saying so much; but at the tim
e it had all been so natural. Mr. Rutherford had asked a question about
Hillcroft
, and Allison had been led on by a word from him now and then until she had described vividly the old s
tone house where Miss Joan Ruth
erford lived, the garden where she worked and which she loved, the country round about, and, above all, the dear lady herself. Mr.
Ruth
erford's heart warmed as she went on and his eyes lit with pleasure. Here, at last, was a girl who knew how to appreciate real worth, even if it was in an old woman.

Evelyn watched her with surprise. Here was another Allison. She had seen her in her quiet home; she had seen her doing kind acts; she had seen her among the young girls and with the wild, rough boys of her Sunday-school class; yes, and she had seen her leading a public meeting: but she had never heard her talk at length before, and did not know how well she could appear when she forgot herself and let the color come into her cheeks and enthusiasm light up her dark blue eyes that shone and scintillated with her v
arious expressions. And her lan
guage was most poetic. How well her father liked it! Why had she
never thought to describe
Hillcroft
and what she knew of Aunt Joan's house to him. He was listening as eagerly as if he were hungry for the tale.

The young man watched her with a growing interest which changed little by little from the mere curiosity he would give to a new species of the human kind, to a look of genuine
admiration. It was true, as Eve
lyn had said, that she was beautiful, and yet with the quiet beauty
of the Puritan maiden. There was a shy droop to the dark eyelashes that made one long to see the flitting light in the clear eyes. And how well the simple white gown suited her! Richard did not know if it were costly or not, he merely knew it suited her.

On the whole, Evelyn Rutherford was pleased with the impression her guest was making. She had not known that she cared about this, but now she saw that she did. She was particularly pleased that Dick should like her, for then he would not be bored by going about with them. She knew her fastidious brother would not have liked a dowdy-looking girl, nor enjoyed an awkward, stupid one. Allison was neither of these, for while she fancied herself awkward in the extreme and dreaded each new course lest she should commit some error of form with fork or spoon, she was, in fact, qui
te generally free from self-con
sciousness, which is the source o
f all embarrassment and awkward
ness.

"What have you young ladies on hand for to-morrow?" asked the young man as they arose from the table. 'There is a fine collection of paintings on exhibition and to-morrow
is the private view. I have se
cured tickets in
case you care to go.
You won't see many pictures be
cause of the crowd, as it is the private view, but Miss Grey may enjoy seeing the people who think themselves worth lookin
g at. Then we can go another tim
e for a good look at the pictures when
every one
is free to come and very few are there. I wonder why it is that everything in this world that is to be had for the as
king is discounted by the major
ity."

Allison looked her delight at hearing of the pictures but felt dubious about the fashionable people. She was not sure she had anything that would do to wear to such an assemblage.

The evening passed very pleasantly in talk and music, Allison u
rg
ing her hostess to play, and declining to do so herself, saying she was no musician and only played a little for her own pleasure.

Time passed without count. Allison was astonished to remember on waking the third morning of her stay that it was Sunday. A homesick feeling stole over her. They would all be going to the dear home church soon, and then would come the afternoon school. How would her boys get on with the man she had secured to teach them? She felt slightly troubled about it, but he had been the only available person and they had promised to keep things up during her absence for her sake. With a sigh she knelt to pray, givi
ng them into the care of the Fa
ther who knew better than did she how to plan for their good.

The family breakfast was very late, but Evelyn had come down fully dressed for church, as had Allison, so that they had but to get wraps and gloves and start. And when they appeared with these on they found the two gentlemen waiting b
elow to accompany them. To Alli
son this seemed perfectly natural, but to Evelyn it was an intense surprise. She could not remember that her father had attended church since she was a little girl. As for Richard he never went, at least not to his sister's knowledge. She had been going herself regularly but a very short time.

The great church, with its quiet, restful colors, and rich tones in costly stained windows, in woodwork, walls, and carpet, its deep-toned solemn organ that rolled through the hushed air like the earnest of the judgment day, all impressed Allison deeply. It was wonderful! grand! holy! It touched her sense of the poetic and traditional. All pictures, in her imagination, of the temples of old, were like this. It was different, so different from the bright little crowded church at
Hillcroft
with but two precious stained-glass windows and the rest clear white, through which the full boisterous sunlight could come at will, and with almost a buzz of kindly greeting from neighbors coming in before the service began. Nevertheless she missed something that made her feel lonely. What was it? Only homesickness? She felt it more when the first hymn began. How very few people were joining in the morning praise! It startled her, so that she almost stopped singing for a moment, frightened at hearing her own voice so p
lainly, and then Richard Ruther
ford with whom she was sharing her book took up the strain in his fine tenor voice and she took heart to sing softly once more. But why was it?
Did the people not know the tun
e? At
Hillcroft
that music would ring out with deep volume, and even old Mrs. Banks, who had no voice above a quaver, would open her mouth wide, and one could tell by her eyes that she was truly praising i
n her heart if not in strict mu
sical accord.