An Unwilling Guest (6 page)

Never once during the two hours they spent in the old hall of the castle, while the elements did their worst outside, did it occur to her to wonder if he belonged to the favored few who composed her world of society and who were eligible to talk and dance and play with such as she. It was only afterward that this question came to her, when her friends asked, "Who is he?" and "What is he?" for they came from the part of the world where these things count for much. Then she found she knew very little indeed from her three hours spent with him, as to either of these important questions, in the sense that these people meant. Afterward, when her brother Dick had been called in to help, she had been glad to know that he stood high in his profession, and could go anywhere, if he but chose. But he had not come her way again, though she had always been hoping that he would.

Their talk that afternoon had drifted to the old ruin and she s
ud
denly found it peopled with real folks, breathing and walking before her, and she wondered why this man could make the people of history so interesting to her, when her friends had only bored her with talk of them.

Once when the lightning had been most
vivid and she had shud
dered involuntarily and covered her eyes with her hands, he had said, "Don't be afraid," in a quieting tone. Then she had looked up into his face and had known that he was not at all afraid.

She lay awake a long time that night after thinking the whole story over. A sudden thought had come to her. Was it, could it be because he belonged to this strange family and held peculiar beliefs, that he had not been afraid of that terrible storm? Or was it because he was a man? No, he had something more in his face than most men when they are
merely brave. There was something in
this whole family, some control
ling, quieting force that she did not understand.

How very strange that he should have belonged to these people! And stranger still that she should be here.

There
were other vigils kept that night. The mother in her own room, though she put her light out quietly enough and knelt beside her bed as usual, prayed long and earnestly for her dear boy and added a petition for "the stranger beneath our roof." Then she lay down to wonder anxiously if she had done exactly right in bringing this strange unknown quantity into the house just now, when her dear boy was coming home, and to tell herself for the thousandth time that day that it had not been her doing. She had not even known that Maurice was coming this week. Finally she laid d
own her burden, asking her heav
enly Father to make it all work out to his glory, and fell asleep.

Allison in her room was trying to read her Bible. She was reading by course and her chapter that night brought her to the thirteenth of First Corinthians. She had read two or three verses unthinkingly, when her mind suddenly became aware of the meaning of the words.
Impa
tiently she closed her Bible, then opened it again. She would not read in her regular order to-night. She needed special help. Her soul was weary and hungry. She needed something like "Come unto me all ye that
labour
and are heavy laden," or "Let not your heart be troubled." Not that sharp upbraiding, and being obliged to examine her heart again.

She had done that all day. Besides, she knew that chapter by heart, "Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels and have not charity." She knew all the latest expositions, had read and even learned it, substituting the word "love" for "charity." The whole thing searched her too keenly tonight, hence she turned away.

But turn as she would to find comfort, that persistent Bible would
open again and again back to the chap
ter in Corinthians. At last, un
willingly, she read it through, piercing her soul with every verse, and lay down to weary contemplation of her mistakes and failures, having tried to throw off her burdens in prayer, but picking them up and shouldering them once more. It was very hard for poor Allison to give up. When her will decided a thing she simply could not bear to hear things go the other way. She could not see how it was right. In theory she believed that God knew what would be best for all his children. In practice she had a strong conviction that she knew pretty well what the Lord had intended in the first place and there was danger of its getting switched off the track if she did not watch the switch and worry about it.

Maurice Grey, in his old room, among the relics of his boyhood, his college days, and his early manhood, searched for a minute or two in an old desk drawer and brought
therefrom
a little black book labeled, "My Foreign Diary."

He hastily turned the leaves and read:

"At last I am afloat. New York has faded from our view. The last tie to terra firma in the shape of a dirty little boat has left us and we are bound for another shore. How I have dreamed of this day! Yet now that it has come I scarcely realize it. I have had so much to do the last forty-eight hours. I believe I felt more that my foreign trip was actually begun when I bade mother and father and Allison good-bye last week than I do now. It was hard to have to leave them behind. In my dreams of this they have always been a h
appy accompaniment to my antici
pated pleasures.

"There has been nothing notable in the three days I have spent in New York, with the exception of my experience last evening. I was standing at the corner of West Sixty-fo
urth Street looking up Fifth Av
enue and trying to decide whether it was too late to make a bri
ef call on any of the fellows in
that part of town, or whether I would go at once to the hotel and get a good night's rest. The clocks had just struck eleven and for New York there seemed to be a sudden quiet about that quarter. I could hear footsteps, a woman's and a man's. The woman's steps suddenly quickened into a run as they turned the corner below
and she came in sight. I could see that the man was trying to catch her, and he did succeed in taking hold of her arm as she came nearer. Then he tried to kiss her, calling her name in loud tones, 'Evelyn.' It made me shudder to hear that lovely name spoken in the street so, and by a drunkard in a drunken voice! That has always seemed to me a name that speaks of a guarded, sheltered life. I soon saw that the man was beside himself with liquor, and as they passed under the street light I suddenly recognized the girl to be Dick Rutherford's stately sister. I never met her, but have seen her man
y times with Dick and other col
lege men. She is a great society girl and very beautiful. I knew her at once. Her face was white with fear. She seemed as glad to turn to me as a little child in trouble might be. I think she was too frightened to talk much. I took her to her father's door, telling her I knew her brother. Perhaps it is just as well for my future peace of mind that she did not ask my name. She will never be bothered with having to thank me for the small service I did her, and I shall not be chagrined because I am not eligible to her 'set.' It might be som
e temptation to me to try to be
come eligible if I had not decided to live another kind of life. I have consecrated everything to Jesus Christ—myself, my talents, if I have any, my all. Miss Rutherford has other aims in life probably. She would not think twice of a young medical student. I wonder if she is a Christian. I wonder what our meeting last night was for!"

He turned the pages rapidly till his eye fell on the right date and then he settled to reading once more.

"I have had an adventure. Here in this strange land of wondrous beauty, where I did not expect to see
a familiar face, I have met an
other human being to whom, indeed, I have spoken
but once before, but with whom I have been conversing for nearly three hours. I was taking my second view of the old ruin before going away; and as I stood looking at the moss-grown turrets and imagining the old days back when knights and ladies walked and talked there and looked off across the lake to the blue mountains in the distance, it reminded me of
Browning's
poem, 'Love Among the Ruins.' I repeated a verse aloud as I stood alone in a grassy meadow that stretched away to a bit of ruin standing by itself:

"Now the single little turret that remains

                          
On the plains,

By the caper
overrooted
, by the gourd

                         
Overscored
,

While the patching houseleek's head of blossom

                        
Through the chinks,

Marks the basement where a tower in ancient time

                       
Sprang sublime,

And a burning ring, all round, the chariots traced

                      
As they raced,

And the monarch and his minions and his dames

                     
Viewed the games.
”

"Just then I noticed the heavy
blackness that was swiftly over
spreading the sky. I watched it grow dark all about the ruin till the gray turrets and the
purply
green-gray clouds blended and there were turrets and towers in the sky everywhere. Vivid flashes of lightning set forth this mighty spectacle. I withdrew to the shelter of a covered archway, and the rain began to pour down. I had not been under cover more than a minute before I heard the flutter of garments and looking out I saw—Evelyn Rutherford, Dick Rutherford's beautiful sister. The last time we met was in New York. How strange that she should be here! We talked about many things, for there was nothing for us to do but remain under cover until the rain ceased. I do not think three hours ever went with greater swiftnes
s. She is a fine conversational
ist—or—no, is she? Perhaps she is a fine listener, for I can remember hearing my own voice most of the time, now that I think of it. But if I can judge by her face we certainly en
joyed the time together. We peo
pled the old rooms and corridors with knights and ladies robed in rich satins, stiff with gold broidery. I repeated
Browning's
poem again, for it kept running in my head all day. She liked it, I think. At least her eyes seemed to say so, and her comments were well-made and to the point. She showed a keen appreciation of the poem's literary beauties, which was more than I expected from one in her position in society. But then! It was but for an afternoon. What am I? And what is she? We are as from two worlds. It may be we shall never meet again. There are
other poems of
Browning's
which might appropriately be quoted just here, but I am too weary to-night to hunt them up, and besides, I do not care to have the charm of the day li
fted just yet. I never quite be
lieved in their sentiments either, and always revolted at the idea that two beings who seemed to be affinities should meet and enjoy each other and then be thrown apart and care no more, but I don't know
but I understand better now how the necessities of life compel one to adopt such a philosophy. But somehow this adventure has unfitted me for the ordinary. It is well I am going back to work soon.

"I am reading the life of Moody. I have been making it a rule lately to do a little religious reading every day, aside from the Bible, to keep in touch with things most vital. I wonder I have never read this before. It is not a great book as books go, but it is the story of a great life, a life near to God. Last night I read that Moody made it a rule never to be alone with a person five minutes without having by some little word or action left his testimony for Christ
, and found out whether his com
panion was a Christian. I was much impressed by the story of his walking in the rain with a stranger on the street to protect him with his umbrella and before the short walk was over asking the question: 'My friend, do you know Jesus Christ?' I do not think I could always do that way, perhaps; but I might be able to witness in some way if I tried. I could not but marvel what a difference it would make in the world if all Christians would do so. I lay awake thinking it over and resolved, after much thought and prayer, to adopt this rule for myself. I made that resolve only last evening and prayed for the necessary opportunity and courage. Behold, it needed neither courage nor opportunity. Three hours were given me in which to reach a human soul, and one with whom in all likelihood I shall never come in contact again. If I loved Christ, as I had thought, would I not have been anxious at once to do this little for him? I spoke of my father, mother, and sister, but of him whom I love better than all I breathed never a word. I cannot even comfort myself with the thought that
there was
aught
in my conversa
tion that indirectly showed her my purpose in life, not even so much as
a hint that I ever attend church. And this because I was so absorbed in other things as to entirely forget. I do not think it would have required much courage.

"The thing I need to pray for first is watchfulness. My Master's words to his disciples apply to me now, 'Could ye not watch with me one hour?' I have been taking my ease, my pleasure, and never watching for words to say for him. And now the opportunity has passed. Oh, that I might have another! I judge this girl by her words and she does not seem to be a Christian. Does she
judge me in the same way? I de
serve it. Twice I have met this soul and missed my opportunity to carry a message for my Lord. I hereby pledge my word, God helping me, that if I am ever thrown in her company again I will do my humble best to show her that it is a sweet thing to have Christ as a
Saviour
. But so great a privilege is not likely to be awarded me again, seeing I have shown myself unfaithful. But I can and will pray for her. I will make it my daily practice, so help me God, to pray for her soul until I die or know that she belongs to Christ. She is nothing to me, perhaps; but the responsibility of three long hours misspent is upon me and I have been found wanting."

The young man closed the book which registered his vow almost reverently. He had kept that pledge for a year, and now he sat thoughtfully.

"Strange," he said, speaking aloud to himself as was his habit when alone, "strange and wonderful that I should have another opportunity given! It is a great privilege for a human soul to be given a third chance, having failed in two through utter thoughtlessness. Why I should feel so about this particular soul I do not know. There are doubtless many others whom I have passed by again and again, and never knew nor thought, but my meeting with this girl was unusual. And then, I believe one cannot pray for another
without having a deep interest in
that other. I am very happ
y. Can it be that I am to be al
lowed to do what I have left undone?
It may be all my absurd imagina
tion. I may not have been needed at all; but this
I know, that if I live until to
morrow I shall endeavor to find out in some way if this young woman is a Christian,"

He said the words solemnly as if reg
istering a vow to an unseen wit
ness, and then he knelt in prayer and offered a petition for this stranger beneath his father's roof, that she might know and love Jesus, and that if it were to be his privilege to show her the light that he might be guided by the Spirit.