The Witness Part 38

I went back to the big stone house and discovered there was a great big living-room with a grand piano at one end, and a stone fireplace large enough for logs. A wide staircase led up to a gallery where many rooms opened off, rooms enough for every one we wanted, and a big special one for Father and Mother Marshall, winters, opening off in a suite, so that they could be to themselves when they got tired of us all. Of course, in summers they might want to go home sometimes and take us all with them; or maybe run down to the sh.o.r.e with us in an off year now and then. Break the news to them gently, darling, for I've set my heart on that house just as I saw it, and I hope they won't object.

There were other rooms, but they were vague, because I saw that you must have the key to them all yet, and I must wait till you come, to look into them.

Then I heard sweet sounds from the church, and, turning, I went in. Some one was playing the organ, high up in the dusky shadows of the gallery, and I knew it was you, Bonnie Rose, my darling! So I knelt in a pew and listened, with the Presence standing there between us. And as I knelt another vision came to me, a vision of the past! I remembered the days when I did not know G.o.d; when I sneered and argued and did all I could in my young and conceited way against Him. I remembered, too, the time He came to me in my illness and I began to believe; and the day I read that verse marked in Stephen's Bible, "He that believeth on the Son of G.o.d hath the witness in himself." I suddenly realized that that had been made true to me. I have the witness in my own heart that Christ is the Son of G.o.d, my Saviour! That His Presence is on earth and manifest to me at many times. No seeming variance of science, no quibble of the intellect, can ever disturb this faith on which my soul rests. It is more than a conviction; it is a perfect satisfaction! I KNOW! I may not be able to explain all mysteries, but I can never doubt again, because I know. The more I meet with modern skepticism, the more I am convinced that that is the only answer to it all: "He that doeth His will shall know of the doctrine," and that promise is fulfilled to all who have the will to believe.

All this came to me quite clearly as I knelt in the church in the sunset, while you were playing--was it "Rock of Ages"?--and a ray of the setting sun stole through the old yellow gla.s.s of the window in the organ-loft and lay on your hair like a crown, my Bonnie darling! My heart overflowed with grat.i.tude at the great way life has opened up to me.

That I, the least of His servants, should be honored by the love of this pearl of women!--

There was more of that letter, and Bonnie sat long on the stump reading and re-reading, with her face a glow of wonder and joy. But at last she got up and went to the house, bounding into the dining-room where Mother and Father Marshall were pretending to be busy about a lamp that didn't work right.

Down she sat with her letter and read it--at least as much as we have read--to the two sad old dears who were trying so hard to get ready for loneliness. But after that there was no more sadness in that house! No more tears nor wistful looks. Father whistled everywhere he went, till Mother told him he was like a boy again. Mother sang about her work whenever she was alone. For why should they be sad any more? There were good times still going in the world, and _they were in them_!

"Father!" whispered Mother, softly, that night, when she was supposed to be well on her way toward slumber. "Do you suppose the Lord heard us grumbling this afternoon, and sent that letter to make us ashamed of ourselves?"

"No," said Father, tenderly, "I think He just smiled to think what a big surprise He had ready for us. It doesn't pay to doubt G.o.d; it really doesn't!"

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

Pat was out with the ambulance. He had been taking a convalescent from the hospital down to the station and s.h.i.+pping him home to his good old mother in the country, to be nursed back to health. Pat often did little things like that that were utterly out of his province, just because he liked to do them.

Pat had seen his patient off and was threading his way through a crowded thoroughfare, with eyes alert for everything, when a little bright-red racer pa.s.sed him at a furious rate, driven by a woman with a reckless hand. She shot by the ambulance like a rocket, and at the next corner came face to face with a great motor-truck that was thundering around the corner at a tempestuous speed. From the first glance there was no chance for the racer. It crumpled like a thing of paper and lay in bright splinters on the street, the lady tossed aside and motionless, with her head against the curbing.

The crowd closed in about her, and some one sent a call for the police.

The crowd opened again as an officer signed to the ambulance to stand by, and kindly hands put the lady inside. Pat put on all speed to the home hospital, which was not far away, and was soon within its gates, with the house doctor and a nurse rus.h.i.+ng out in answer to his signal.

There was a light in the church close at hand, although it was not yet dark. Bonnie was playing softly on the organ. Pat knew the hymn she was playing:

At evening, ere the sun was set, The sick, O Lord! around Thee lay; Oh, with what divers ills they met, Oh, with what joy they went away!

Once more 'tis eventide, and we, Oppressed with various ills, draw near--

Pat was following the melody in his mind with the words that were so often sung in the Church of the Presence of G.o.d at evening service. He jumped down from his driver's seat and went around to the back of the ambulance, where they were preparing to carry the patient into the building. He was wondering what sort it was this time that he had brought to the House of Healing. Then suddenly he saw her face and stopped short, with a suppressed exclamation.

There, huddled on the stretcher, in her costly sporting garments, with her long, dark lashes sweeping over her hard, little painted face, and a pinched look of suffering about her loose-hung baby mouth, lay Gila!

He knew her at once and drew back in horror. What had he done! Brought her here, this viper of evil that had crept into the garden of his friends and despoiled them of their joy! Why had he not looked at her before they started? Fool that he was! He might easily have taken her to another hospital instead of this one. He could do so yet.

But Courtland was standing on the steps, looking down at the huddled figure on the stretcher, with a strange expression of pity and tenderness in his face.

"I did not know! I did not see her before, Court!" stammered Pat. "I will take her somewhere else now before she has been disturbed."

"No, Pat, it's all right! It is fitting that she should come to us. I'm glad you found her. You must have been led! Call Bonnie, please. And, Pat, watch for Nelly and take him into my study. He was coming down on the Boston express. Let me know as soon as he gets here."

Courtland went swiftly into the hospital. Pat looked after him for a moment with a great light of love in his eyes, and realized for the first time what was meant by the expulsive power of a new affection.

Court hadn't minded seeing Gila in the least on his own account. He was only thinking of Tennelly. Poor Nelly! What would he do?

There was no hope for Gila from the first. There had been an injury to the spine, and it was only a question of hours how long she had to stay.

It was Bonnie's face upon which the great dark eyes first opened in consciousness again. Bonnie in soft, white garments sitting beside the bed, watching. A strange contraction of fear and hate pa.s.sed over her face as she looked, and she spoke in an insolent, sharp little voice, weak as a sick bird's chirp.

"Who sent you here?" she demanded.

"G.o.d," said Bonnie, gently, without an instant's hesitation.

A startled look came into Gila's eyes. "G.o.d! What does He want with me?

Has He sent you here to torment me? I know you, who you are! You are that poor girl that Paul picked up in the street. You are come to pay me back!"

Bonnie's face was full of tenderness. "No, dear! That is all pa.s.sed.

I've just come to bring you a message from G.o.d."

"G.o.d! What have I to do with G.o.d?" A quiver of anguish pa.s.sed over the weird little face. "I hate G.o.d! He hates me! Am I dead, then, that He sends me messages?"

"No, you are not dead. And G.o.d does not hate you. Listen! He says, 'I have loved you with an everlasting love.' That's the message that He sends. He is here now. He wants you to give attention to Him!"

The little blanched face on the pillow tightened and hardened in fear once more. "That's that awful Presence again! The Presence! The Presence! I've been trying to get away from it for three years, and it's pursued me everywhere! Now I'm caught like a rat in a trap and can't get away! If I'm not dead, then I must be dying, or you wouldn't dare talk to me this awful way! _I am dying!_ And _you_ think _I'm going to h.e.l.l_!" Her shrill voice rose almost to a scream.

Above the sound, Bonnie's calm, clear voice dominated with a sudden quieting hush. Courtland, standing with the doctor and Tennelly just outside the partly open door, was thrilled with the sweetness of it, as if some supernatural power were given to her at this trying time.

"Listen, Gila! This is what He says: 'G.o.d sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.... G.o.d so loved the world that He gave His only Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' He wants you to _believe now_ that He loves you and wants to save you."

"But He couldn't!" said Gila, with the old petulant tone. "I've hated Him all my life! I _hate Him now_! And I've never been good! I couldn't be good! I don't _want_ to be good! I want to do just what I _please_!

And I _will_! I won't hear you talk this way! I want to get up! Why does my body feel so queer and numb, as if it wasn't there? Am I dying now?

Answer me quick! Am I dying? _I know I am._ I'm dying and you won't tell me! I'm dying and I'm afraid! I'M AFRAID!"

One piercing scream after another rang out through the corridors. In vain did Bonnie and the nurse seek to soothe her. The high, excited voice raved on:

"I'm afraid to die! I'm afraid of that Presence! Send for Paul Courtland! He tried to tell me once, and I wouldn't hear! I made him choose between me and G.o.d! And _now I'm going to be punished_!"

"Listen, dear!" went on Bonnie's steady, tender voice. "G.o.d doesn't want to punish. He wants to save. He is waiting to forgive you if you will let Him!"

Something in her low-spoken words caught and held the attention of the soul in mortal anguish. Gila fixed her great, anguis.h.i.+ng eyes on Bonnie.

"Forgive! Forgive! How could anybody forgive all I've done! You don't know anything about such things"--half contemptuously.--"You've always been goody-good! I can see it in your look. You don't know what it is to have men making fools of themselves over you! You don't know all I've done! I've been what they call a sinner! I sent away the only man I ever loved because I was _jealous of G.o.d_! I broke the heart of the man who loved me because I got tired of him and his everlasting perfection! I hated the idea of being a mother, and when my child came I deserted her!

I would have killed her if I had dared! I went away with a bad man! And when I got tired of him I took the first way that opened to get away from him! G.o.d doesn't forgive things like that! I didn't expect He would when I did them. But it wasn't fair not to let me live out my life! I'm too young to die! And I'm afraid! I'm AFRAID!"

"Yes. G.o.d forgives all those things! There was a woman once who had been like that, and Jesus forgave her. He will forgive you if you ask Him.

But He can't forgive you unless you are sorry and really want Him to. He says, 'Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow; and though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool,' but you have to be sorry first that you sinned. He can't forgive you if you aren't sorry."

"Sorry! _Sorry!_" Gila's laugh rang out mirthlessly and echoed in the high, white room. "Oh, I'm _sorry_, all right! What do you think I am?

Do you think I've been _happy_? Don't you know that I've suffered torments? Everything has turned to ashes that I've touched! I've gone everywhere and done everything to try to forget myself, but always there was that awful Presence chasing me! Standing in my way everywhere I turned! Driving me! Always driving me toward h.e.l.l! I've tried drowning my thoughts with c.o.c.ktails and dope, but always when it wore off there would be the Presence of G.o.d pursuing me! Do you mean to tell me there is forgiveness for me with Him?"

Her breath was coming in painful gasps as she screamed out the words as the nurse leaned over and gave her a quieting draught.

Bonnie, in a low, clear voice, began to repeat Bible verses: