Again and again precious thoughts like these went through her mind until her heart became a continual hymn of praise. And now she was so often watching for his coming, for he had at last told her it might be soon and unannounced. He might be brought home in a plane when there was opportunity. There were so many things that had to be considered in sending wounded soldiers home, so many men to be sent back and forth.
Quite often now, when Dale was alone sitting at her desk or under the light reading or resting in a comfortable chair, she would get up and go out on the porch, just to look down the road and see if anyone was walking up the street, just to look up to the night sky and imagine how he would be coming, like that great plane that sailed across the house above her at a certain time each night. And sometimes the moon would be rising—a lovely golden crescent, or later in the month, a great round silver orb in the wide deep blue of a sky punctuated here and there with white stars—and she would think, What if he should come now, tonight, while I am standing here, and we could be here together watching this night. Sometime we will perhaps. Sometime he will be here and will not go away, but we shall be together, shall belong together. How great and wonderful that would be!
She went over all her pretty anticipations. How she would telephone Corliss and George to come home and meet him. Or wait—perhaps it would be better for David to take her down to the college. Ah, that was something that must wait until he came, to see how well he was and whether he was able to take trips like that.
Then she would chide herself for planning so far ahead when she was not even sure yet that he was to be allowed to come home at all at this time. He might even be considered well enough to be sent on another assignment, and there might be another long period of waiting and trusting ahead of her yet. Well, even so, the war must be won, and if their Lord had planned it that way, they must be content.
Then she would chide herself for making up so many possible disappointments when it was all in her Lord’s hands and she could perfectly trust that He would do His best for her and for David.
One night she came down to supper in a new dress, all bright and colorful with small knots of giddy little flowers scattered over it and outlined here and there with cords of scarlet among the bright knots of flowers. It was a pretty dress, and she wished he were there to see it. And then she got up and went out to take her nightly observation of the sky and see if there were any planes coming over the house, just to carry out her whimsical fantasy.
She had looked long into the face of that great moon and counted the stars around it and finally turned away. And then suddenly she heard a car. It was coming up their street. It came on quickly. It was the town taxi, and it was coming straight to her door! Could it be? Oh, it wasn’t Aunt Blanche coming back to take her cousins away from their beloved college, was it? For an instant, her heart stood still, but then she saw a tall man in uniform was getting out, paying the driver, picking up his bag from the curb where he had dropped it while he hunted out his change. He turned and looked toward the house, saw her standing there—her bright dress fluttering in the evening breeze, the moonlight on her beautiful hair—and then she knew him. It was not just her imagination. He was there in reality. She could hear the taxi that had brought him going down the street, turning onto the highway below. It was all real, and David had come home!
It was then she turned and flew down the steps and went to meet him, went straight into his arms, right there in the dusk of the evening with all the neighbors’ quiet little houses around her watching, holding their breath to tell it to the nightingales.
And David dropped his bag and folded her in his arms, laying his cheek against her own.
“Dale, my darling! Oh, I have you in my arms once more. God has answered my prayer and brought me back to you again!”
And Dale nestled into his arms just as she had been dreaming she would do and felt her heart overflowing with gladness and thanksgiving.
There was another watcher besides those neighboring houses. Hattie had heard the taxi, and Hattie had tiptoed softly into Grandma’s room and peeked out between the curtains. She caught the gleam of the streetlamp on the bright bars of the uniform, she saw the bag, she measured the stranger’s height and knew the lost had returned at last! And then Hattie went back to her room, got dressed in a jiffy, and went to brewing among her pots and pans until she produced a tray of delightful, tempting edibles, topped by cups of fragrant tea and little delectable frosted cakes with cherries on them. Little sandwiches and scrambled eggs such as no one but Hattie could make and season just right. And then quite innocently, she came sailing into the living room with her tray, as if a bell had sounded and she had been sent for.
“I thought you might like a little bite to eat, Miss Dale,” she said wistfully and then paused and eyed the tall uniformed man, liked his face, and heartily approved of him.
So Dale roused smiling, drew a little away from the strong arm that encircled her shoulders, and spoke: “Oh, thank you, Hattie, that was nice of you. David, this is Hattie. She’s a part of us, you know, and she had been helping me watch for you.”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard of Hattie, and I’m glad to meet her at last!” said David as he got up from the couch where he had been sitting and took Hattie’s two work-hardened hands in his own big ones and gave them a warm pressure.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” said Hattie with her best bow. “And now you children set down an’ eat your ‘freshments ‘fore they get cold. I sure is glad you have come at last, Mr. Captain, and I hope they gets this war over now you’ve come back so you won’t have to go away no more.”
Laughing and happy, they sat down to the ample tray and ate as they had not eaten since that day on the mountaintop that seemed so very long ago. And yet now that David was here, was only the other day.
They had eaten it all, every crumb, and Hattie had taken the tray away and left them to a happy talk. Then quite suddenly there was the sound of a car, a clatter of young feet on the walk outside coming up the steps, and there came the cousins, barging in cheerfully. They paused an instant at the doorway, abashed; then George roused to the occasion. “Oh, excuse us, Dale. Are we interrupting? A fellow was coming up for the weekend and we got a chance to ride up with him in his car. We thought you wouldn’t mind. But gee, we didn’t know you had company. If we’re in the way, we’ll go back. But, say, isn’t this Cousin David? How are you, David? We’re glad you’ve come at last, and we hope you’ll like us. We like you a lot already just from your picture, you know.”
Then David Kenyon got to his feet again and took the two new cousins by the hand, one hand in each of his own.
“Well, I certainly like that,” he said genially. “That’s the nicest welcome you could have given me, and I sure am going to like you two just as much. I’ve been hearing all about you in letters, you know. And I’m so glad you both are saved and we can all be happy together!”
“There! See that?” said George to his wide-eyed sister. “I said he was all right, and he is, Corrie, and I guess we’ve got about the greatest family a fellow and a girl could have. How about it, Dale? Do you mind our coming home this first night he’s here?”
“Oh no, I’m glad you’ve come. I want you to know him right from the start.”
Then Hattie appeared in the doorway and summoned the younger ones.
“They all had a little supper,” she said, “but they done et it all up, so I guess you two better come out in the kitchen and tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll fix it up for you.”
So laughingly the two disappeared into the kitchen, and Hattie felt she had accomplished great things to leave the dear girl and her returned soldier alone together.
Promptly David’s arms went around Dale and drew her close to him, her head on his shoulder, his face against hers, where just their lips could touch.
“My darling!” David said and drew a long, deep breath of satisfaction. “Oh, it’s so good to be with you again!”
Once more
his face went down to her and his lips met hers, and then he raised his head and looked into her eyes.
“How soon can we be married?” he asked her earnestly. “I want you for my own for always. I kept wishing all the time I was gone that we had had time to get married before I left. But of course I couldn’t help it that we were going so soon. But how soon, dearest?”
“Why, right away,” said Dale joyously, with a lilt in her tone. “The sooner the better.”
“That’s perfect,” said David. “We’ll hunt up a license tomorrow. How long do you have to wait to get a license in this state?”
“Why, I really don’t know, but what matters a little bit of time like a day or two? You are here now, and all time will go fast. But I’d like the cousins to be here.”
“Of course,” said David. “They’re rare! I’m glad they are nearby. But oh, my darling! To think I have you in my arms at last! It seems too good to be true.” He drew her close again and touched his lips to her eyelids. “My precious!” he said. “What did I tell you, ‘Joy cometh in the morning’? This is our morning.”
Dale smiled softly and then added in a low tone, “And my Savior kept you safely all through the night.”
More Than Conqueror
Chapter 1
A tall young soldier swung off the bus at its terminal and walked briskly up Wolverton Drive.
He was a handsome soldier, though he did not seem at all conscious of it. He had strong, well-chiseled features, heavy dark hair, and fine eyes. He walked with a kind of grave assurance, as if this was something he had fully made up his mind to do, though not as if this broad avenue were an old haunt of his; more as if he were driving himself to a sacred duty.
Oh, it wasn’t the first time he had walked that way, of course. In his school days he had passed up that road, had carefully studied its substantial houses, admired them each, and later come to search out and be interested in one particular house. He had never stepped within one of them, for his life had not been blessed with wealth and luxury, but he had admired a girl in school who lived here, and he had taken pains to find out where she lived. Not that he had a personal acquaintance with that little girl in the grade school. Oh no! They had been only children then, with but the passing acquaintance of classmates as the years progressed. But he had been interested enough to find out where she lived, and when he had found her house he had been glad, as his eyes took in the lines of the fine old stone mansion. There had been no envy in his glance. He was glad she had a background like that. It was satisfying to know it. It seemed to finish out the picture for him. But he had known then, and equally he knew now, that he did not belong in this setting. He even knew that the circumstance that had brought him here now might not be recognized by anyone belonging to her as justifying his coming. Nevertheless, he had come, and having started he was not to be turned back now at the last minute by any qualms of reason or conscience that might have made him hesitate in the past.
At the third corner the soldier turned sharply into a broad driveway sweeping up in a pleasant curve to the old gray stone house that gave evidence of having been built a goodly number of years before.
As if he were accustomed to treading this way, he walked quickly without hesitation, mounted the stone steps, and passed within a stone arch.
As he stood awaiting an answer to his ring, he cast a quick comprehensive glance up and down the broad veranda, with a look in his eyes as if the quiet elegance of the place was pleasant to him. There was satisfaction in his expression.
As he stood there he looked as if he might fit into that setting very easily. There was courtesy, strength, grace in his whole bearing, and the elderly servant who opened the door did not seem to see anything incongruous in his being there. These were days when men of the army and navy were honored guests everywhere. Moreover, his attitude and manner showed the culture of one to the manner born.
“I would like to see Miss Blythe Bonniwell,” he said, stepping into the hall as the servant swung the door wide and indicated a small reception room where he might sit down.
“She’s still in,” said the woman. “She’s gone up to get ready to go to her Red Cross meeting.”
“I’ll not keep her long,” promised the soldier understandingly.
“Who shall I say is here?” asked the woman.
The young man turned on her a winning grin.
“Why, you can tell her it is Charlie Montgomery. I’m not sure she’ll remember the name. It’s been some time. Just tell her I’m an old schoolmate and I’d like to see her about something rather important. That is, if she can spare just a minute or two.”
“Mr. Montgomery, did you say?” asked the woman with dignity.
“Yes, I suppose you might call it Mr. But I doubt if she would identify me that way,” said the soldier with a grin. “It wasn’t the way I was known, but it’s all right with me if she remembers.”
“Just sit down,” said the woman, with a disapproving air. “I’ll call her. She’ll likely be down in a short time.”
The young man entered the room indicated and sat down in the first chair that presented itself, dropping his face in his hands for an instant and drawing a quick breath almost like a petition. Then he straightened up, but he did not look about him. This was her home, her natural environment, that for long years he had often wished he might see, but he did not wish his mind to be distracted now. He must be alert and at attention when she came. This was probably a crazy thing he was doing, and yet he felt somehow he had to do it.
He heard a light step, and glancing up he saw her coming down the wide staircase that he could just glimpse through the open doorway. She seemed so like the little girl she had been long ago. The same light movement, as if her feet had wings, the same curly brown hair with golden lights in it, the same ease and poise and grace of movement.
She was wearing a slim brown dress that matched the lovely brown of her eyes, and there was a bright knot of ribbons in her brown hair, green and scarlet, that looked like berries and a leaf. It was like a jewel in a picture. His heart quickened as she came, and he felt abashed again at the errand that had brought him here.
She entered the room eagerly, and an interested smile dawned on her sweet face.
The soldier rose and stood awaiting her. A salute—that was her due, yet he didn’t want to flaunt his position as a soldier. But she was putting out her hand, both hands, as if she had a warm welcome for him. It occurred to him that perhaps she did not remember him—had possibly taken him for someone else. Or was it her habit to welcome all soldiers in this war-hearted gracious way? But no, she just wasn’t that free kind of a girl. She was welcoming him as someone she knew intimately and was glad to see.
The look in her eyes, the warm touch of her hand, seemed so genuine that his own plans for distant courtesy seemed somehow out of place. And so for a moment he could only stand there with her hands in his and look down at her as she spoke.
“I’m so glad to see you!” she said. “It’s a long time since we met.”
“You remember me?” he asked in wonder. “You know who I am?”
“Why, of course!” said the girl, with a happy little lilt in the turn of her voice. “You’re the boy who sat in the very last seat in the first row in our senior high school year. You’re the one who always knew all the answers all the way through our school years. Because you really studied, and you cared to know.”
He looked at her in astonishment.
“Did I seem like that to you?”
“Oh yes,” she said, drawing a happy little breath. “You seemed to be the one student in our room who really cared. I wondered whatever became of you. Did you go away to college, or go to work, or what?”
“Oh, I went to college,” he said modestly, not even showing by so much as a glint in his eyes what a march of hard work and triumph that college course had been. This young man was one who took the next thing in his stride and did his best in it as he went.
“And now you
’re in the army,” she said, her glance taking in the insignia on his uniform. “You’re—?” She paused and gave him a troubled look. “You’re going overseas pretty soon?”
“Yes,” he said, coming back to his purpose. “Yes, if it hadn’t been for that, I would scarcely have ventured to come to see you.”
“And why not, I’d like to know?” asked the girl, lifting her lovely eyes and bringing into her face all the old interest she had had in this fellow-student who had been so much of a stranger to her, bringing a light of genuine understanding and admiration.
“Why not?” He laughed. “Why, I had no acquaintance with you. You belonged in a different class.”
“Oh no,” said the girl, with a twinkle in her eyes, nestling her hands in the big strong ones that still held hers. “Have you forgotten? You were in my class all through school. And what’s more, you were the very head of the class. It was my main ambition to try and keep up with you in my studies. I knew I ever could get ahead, but I wanted to be at least second in the class! So don’t say again that you weren’t in my class.”
He laughed, with an appreciation of the way she had turned the meaning of his words, and the fine color rolled up into his face gorgeously.
“You know I didn’t mean that,” he protested. “I knew you were the lovely lady of the class, and that you gave me a wholesome race as far as studies were concerned. But even so, that didn’t put me into your class. You, with your lovely home, and your noble father and mother, and your aristocratic birth, and your millions, and your fashionable friends.”