An Unwilling Guest (Romance Classic). Grace Livingston Hill
Читать онлайн книгу.
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 happy accompaniment to my anticipated 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-Fourth Street looking up Fifth Avenue and trying to decide whether it was too late to make a brief 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 many times with Dick and other college 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 some temptation to me to try to become 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 another 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 overspreading 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 swiftness. She is a fine conversationalist—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 enjoyed the time together. We peopled 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 lifted just yet. I never quite believed 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 companion 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 conversation 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 deserve 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