An Unwilling Guest (Romance Classic). Grace Livingston Hill

Чтение книги онлайн.

      “Evelyn turned wondering eyes upon him.”

      In wondering silence Evelyn walked by his side. All sorts of possibilities went through her brain, none of which seemed adequate for the intensity of his language. She began to think that after all it must be a proposal and a sense of pleasure filled her at the thought. Then her pride rose in arms as she realized once more that his face did not look as if he were going to ask for her hand in marriage. She must not be blamed for making this the central thought of her life. It had been the only end to be attained, set forth to her from her babyhood. Even her father had unconsciously fostered it Her nurses and teachers had trained her for the time when she would be married; her friends and associates talked of nothing else than their conquests. Naturally it seemed to her a thing worth boasting that she had won the love of many men. She was yet to learn that the love of one true man is worth a life's devotion, and the love of the hundred who fling their hearts about to the highest bidder or the prettiest face, and then furbish them up again for the next trial as good as new, is not worth a thought

      The young man had paused and Evelyn's eyes were lifted to meet such a hungering, tender gaze that she dropped them immediately. It was a different look from any she had ever met before. What did it mean? She had never yet met one in whose eyes blazed a passion for souls, that look that is the nearest reflection of His likeness earth can give. She did not understand it and it choked her.

      It was not at all what he had planned to say. The Spirit seemed to guide his low-spoken, impassioned words:

      "I have a confession to make to you, and I am humiliated more than I can tell you at my shortcomings. A year ago I spent nearly three hours In your company. I talked of my family, my friends, my books, and my best life, but so far as I can remember I breathed no word of my best and dearest friend."

      The listener almost halted. Had he then brought her out here to tell her he was engaged? And for what? Did he fear she would expect his attention? Had she shown a particular delight in his society? The ready scorn mounted to her face, but melted as his words went on.

      "It may seem strange to you, Miss Rutherford, that I love Jesus Christ better than my life, and have consecrated myself to his service. But I do, and I want you to know that he is a dear friend, and that his service is my highest joy. It seems incredible that feeling as I do I should allow myself to be in the company of anyone for three hours without hinting anything that would lead that one to suppose that I knew Jesus Christ, and I can only say that I am ashamed and humiliated, and have resolved in future to witness for my Master wherever I may have opportunity."

      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 planning 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 that you were different from everyone else I ever met," answered Evelyn. "But I did not understand 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 leaves and the maples their crimson 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 parlor where she was dusting. "Forever! 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 all 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 lift 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 СКАЧАТЬ