An Unwilling Guest (Romance Classic). Grace Livingston Hill

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СКАЧАТЬ I suppose we do a great deal as they do in other places," mused Allison, wondering where to begin to tell about her life which seemed so full. Instinctively she felt that she must not mention first the pursuit dearest to her heart, her beloved Sunday-school class of boys, for it would not be understood. She thought a minute and then went on.

      "We have a most delightful club," she said eagerly, her eyes kindling with pleasures past and to come. "I think you would enjoy that."

      "Club?" said Miss Rutherford, stifling a yawn. "Girls or men?"

      "Both," said Allison. 'The girls meet early and do the real, solid hard work, and in the evening the boys come and enjoy and learn and give the money."

      "You don't say!" said Miss Rutherford, with interest. "How odd! I never heard the like. What do you do? I suppose you make fancy work and the men buy it for charity and then you have a good time in the evening. Is that it? What do you do? Dance? Or perhaps you are devoted to cards."

      She was quite at home now and began to feel as if perhaps her exile might be tolerable after all.

      "Oh, no!" said Allison, almost shocked to see how far she had been from making her visitor understand. "Why it is a club of the young people of the church."

      "Do you mean it is a religious society?" questioned the girl, a covert sneer on her face.

      "No, not religious," answered Allison; "but it is made up of the young people in our church. It is wholly secular and we have delightful times, but it is not a bit like society. We don't any of us play cards or dance, at least a great many of us don't know how and don't care anything about those things. But we have most delightful meetings."

      Then Allison entered into a detailed and glowing account of the last meeting of their unique club of young people, wherein was combined the intellectual, useful, and social. She warmed to the subject as she went on till it seemed to her that her guest could not but see how fascinating such evening entertainments could be. She told how her hostess had contrived clever ways to make the entertainment of the evening bring in the subject which had been the theme of the afternoon's discussion; and described the dainty arrangement of tables, flowers, lights, and refreshments to suit the occasion until she felt sure Miss Rutherford would see that she understood how things ought to be as well as if she lived in New York. Then she turned at the close to meet cold unresponsiveness and hear in the tone of entire indifference the word, "Indeed!" from Miss Rutherford.

      In truth the visitor had heard very little of what was said. It sounded to her like a country church sociable—though she had never attended such a gathering—and she was simply bored by the account. Her mind was not sufficiently awake as yet to appreciate the cleverness manifested by these village girls in supplying the needs of social life which in the city are ministered to by professionals as a matter of course. She had been idly studying the sweet face before her and wondering what haunting memory was awakened by the expression that flitted across it now and again. Where had she seen some one of whom these people reminded her?

      Allison suddenly subsided. She was aware that she had been casting her precious pearls before—well, she was hardly prepared to finish the sentence. But she was a girl whose likes and dislikes were intense, and when she went into anything she put her whole heart into it. This young people's club was dear to her. She did not relish seeing it despised. She was glad that her mother came out just then and made it unnecessary for her to say anything more. Gladder still was she when she saw her father open the gate down among the shadows of the trees and she could flit down to meet him and come back slowly arm in arm with him, asking about his meeting and knowing that he loved to tell her all about everything. She drew a long breath of relief and felt she had gotten away from the interloper in her pleasant home for a little space.

      Meantime the guest watched her in absolute amazement. She tried to fancy herself rushing at her father in that style, and walking arm in arm up the path. Why did this other girl do it? And what was the reason of that pleasant look of understanding and love that passed between father and daughter as the two reached the steps and paused to finish a sentence before sitting down?

      Evelyn Rutherford felt for the second time that there was something missing from her life which might have been pleasant and wondered why it was. Whose fault had it been, hers or her father's?

      CHAPTER IV.

      ALLISON'S FEARS

       Table of Contents

      “Mamma," said Allison the next morning, as she put on the kettle she had just filled with fresh water from the spring, "Had you forgotten that Maurice is coming next week?"

      The mother looked from the eggs she was beating as she said, with a bright smile: "Oh, no indeed, daughter! How could you think I would forget my dear boy for a minute?"

      "But suppose—she—is here yet?" and the troubled expression in the dark eyes showed that this was not the first time she had pondered the possibility.

      "Why there is room enough, Allison," said the mother, beating some cold rice into the milk and eggs for the delicate batter-cakes she knew how to make to perfection.

      "Oh, yes, room enough," said the girl. 'But, mother, think of it! How can we enjoy his visit with her here? She will just spoil everything and Maurice won't like it at all."

      "I fancy I should enjoy his visit if there were a whole regiment of strangers here, dear," said her mother, laughing, "and as for one girl being able to spoil it, I think you are mistaken. Besides, your brother is not so easily put out as that."

      Allison looked at her mother with the trouble still in her eyes. She was evidently not yet satisfied, though she went thoughtfully about setting the breakfast table. But as she placed the forks and spoons at the stranger's plate, a vision of that young woman in her bewitching black gown and gleaming white shoulders appeared and brought back her trouble in full force. She went to the kitchen door and stood irresolute a moment watching her mother, opened her mouth to speak and closed it again, and then went back to her cups and plates. She could not quite make up her mind to put her thought into words and wondered whether it was wise to trouble her mother with it, even if she could. If it could not be helped why give her mother the anxiety of thinking about it, seeing she had not yet thought of such a thing for herself? Or had she? Did her mother think of it and calmly put her anxiety aside because there seemed a duty in the way she was walking?

      Allison drew her brows in thought and went to look out of the window. Twice she went to the kitchen door and began, "Mother," but when her mother answered she asked some trivial question about the table and turned away. At last however she threw down the pile of napkins she was placing and deliberately walked to her mother's side.

      "Mother," she said, in a low, troubled tone, "I must tell you what I am afraid of. Didn't you notice how pretty she looked last night and how attractive she can be when she tries, with all those beautiful clothes and her city airs? I can't help thinking what a terrible thing it would be if Maurice should take a fancy to her, and—and—marry her—perhaps!" she finished desperately.

      The mother stood erect and looked her daughter full in the face gravely.

      "Dear child," she said, "do you think your brother is so easily influenced by a pretty face and a beautiful effect? You give him little credit of discernment. And besides, do you not recognize a higher Power in shaping our lives than a mere chance of meeting? Cannot you trust God when we are in the way of duty?"

      "But is this the way СКАЧАТЬ