“You don’t know my brother very well if you think that of him,” she said happily. “I don’t know so much about Paul, but I know Link would rather talk about the thinks of the Lord than anything else. You know it was he who suggested Luther’s singing it.”
“Yes, I know,” said Carey thoughtfully, “and of course it was a very lovely song. I’m really eager to hear it in the church. I would like to see the reaction of the people.”
“I hope it will bring someone to know the Lord,” said McRae with soft eagerness, and then turned over to go to sleep. But Carey only said “Yes?” politely, as if she felt that the other girl had said something that wasn’t exactly respectable.
But McRae, as she drifted off to sleep found herself disappointed in Carey. No, she just wasn’t Link’s type, well not yet, anyway. And then she was remembering the look in Curlin’s eyes, the unusual tenderness of his voice when he told her that he had always felt that she should have an Eden to live in because she belonged in one. It gave her a special kind of a thrill to think of that, for Curlin had always been such a quiet practical fellow, and seldom spoke of things romantic. She had never known he felt that way about her. Of course he hadn’t meant anything but pleasant brotherly affection, but it was nice to know he liked her, felt she was fitted to walk in an Eden. Then with a sweet smile on her lips and a prayer in her heart she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 9
It was a lovely morning. Sue, who had wanted to play golf all Sunday morning, groaned to her friend Betty.
“Think what a day this would have been on the golf links! And I just know Link Silverthorn is a great player. I don’t see why he had to have this religious complex. I wonder what made it? It isn’t natural for a young man to be religious. It must be that mother of his.”
“His father too,” said Betty, arranging her topknot of curls engagingly. “Do you know, they have that quaint old-fashioned habit of having family worship? I suppose we’ll experience it this morning. It’s so embarrassing to kneel down when there are a lot of people around.”
“Heavens!” said Sue. “Can’t we sleep late and avoid it? I detest getting in on odd things like that. It seems awfully rude to me to have people force their religion on their guests.”
“Don’t be so silly!” said Betty. “Stay in bed if you like, but you miss a lot of fun. Besides, I’d say that would be fully as rude as having worship. After all they show us a good time, and if that’s what they want let ’em have their prayers. I can stand them if they can. But if you expect to get down to breakfast you’d better arise, young woman. They have awfully good breakfasts here Sunday morning. I stayed here one weekend and I know. They had the most delicious cod fish cakes that I’ve ever tasted, crisp and brown and a cream gravy. They had hot muffins, too, that would melt in your mouth, and treat luscious strawberries. I’ve never forgotten that breakfast. If I ever have a home of my own I’ll learn how to make them all.”
“Oh, stop! You make me hungry! Now I suppose I’ll have to get up and take the day as it comes, prayers and church and all! And I had it all planned that I would coax Link to take me on a long walk and end up at the golf links. I would have done it too, if it hadn’t been for that silly music he planned!”
“Try and do it!” sneered Betty. “You don’t know Link if you think you could get him into an act like that on Sunday. Link is heart and soul in that church of his and you couldn’t pry him away from it.”
“Oh, he’s probably under his mother’s thumb. But I’ll bet I could lure him away if he hadn’t fixed it all up to have the boys sing. Say, doesn’t it surprise you that Steve Grant falls for that sort of thing?”
“Oh, well, he’s got a mother likely, too,” said Betty. “But all the same he gets out from under sometimes or I’ll miss my guess. He isn’t like that hard and fast Curlin. He never seems to see a girl.”
“Only one!” said Sue significantly. “Did you notice how easily he drops into conversation every time McRae comes near him?”
“Oh, they’ve just lived next door to each other all their lives,” said Betty indifferently. “Rae isn’t interested in him. She couldn’t be, with Paul Redfern around, I should think. Say does he watch her! Did you notice him? He’s awfully well-bred of course but he didn’t miss a trick Rae did.”
“Well, he divided his looks with Carey Carewe. She certainly is a winner if there ever was one. The way she kept Paul Redfern and Link Silverthorn dancing attendance on her. She acted as if she were trying to make up her mind which one she’d take.”
“I don’t know Carey as well as the rest of the gang,” said Betty. “Maybe she had a lad at home somewhere.”
“Then why does she stick around here?” said Sue. “You’re telling me she isn’t out to get one of those two? In my opinion it’s Link, the way she looked at him. You can generally tell by the eyes, and hers were simply languishing when she turned them on Link. But then of course I suppose Paul has the most money!”
“I don’t think Carey would stop on that account,” said Betty thoughtfully. “Carey has slews of money herself. Her grandmother’s fortune was left to her.”
“What luck!” said Sue. “But then people who have money can always do with a little more. I don’t suppose Link has a cent to his name, has he? This place is comfortable and nice, but it’s awfully old-fashioned.”
“You can’t tell anything by that,” said Betty loftily. “This house is an ancestral place, over a hundred and fifty years old I think, or maybe more. The same old farm house Mr. Silverthorn’s ancestors lived in three generations or more. But Link is in business, you know. He has a very fine position, good salary and all that.”
“Has he really? When I heard him talk last night I supposed at least he was going somewhere as a missionary. Africa or China, or some pestilential isle of the sea where they cook and eat their missionaries. Well, it’s a hopeful sign if he can command a salary. I might even take him on myself.”
“Try and do it!” laughed Betty. “Come! I hear them going down to breakfast. Let’s go!” and then the two girls in bright array joined the others on the stairs and went down to see what the day had in store for them.
There was nothing dismal in the atmosphere of the house that morning. The sun was shining brightly and there were many wide windows, for old as the house was the Silverthorns had managed to let in sunshine everywhere. More windows had been cut in the massive stone walls, and the sheer organdy curtains disguised none of the light. There was light and a gorgeous view on every hand. There were flowers everywhere, outside and in the house. The garden in full view from the dining room window was bright with daffodils and narcissus, bordered with scylla, blue as the heaven above them. There was a great bed of hyacinths of all colors, filling the air with sweetness, blue and purple and pink and white, and beyond them another bed with myriads of dazzling tulips, crimson and bronze and gold and white.
And in on the white damask of the breakfast table a crystal bowl with slender fluted rim bore white violets, a mass of them, bordered with purple ones. On the sideboard a taller bowl had masses of lilies of the valley, filling the air with their heavenly fragrance.
The house might be plain and old-fashioned, the family might have unpopular religious ideas, but the worldly guests could not but own that it was a sweet holy atmosphere into which they came as they entered that sunny dining room and took their seats. And even the most unsanctified hearts could not but feel the beauty of the thanks that Father Silverthorn gave in his gracious tender tone before they ate.
Some of the guests looked about in wonder, and felt somehow that they had entered a sacred place, only they called it to themselves “Fairyland,” which perhaps from childhood had been their nearest idea of heaven.
The family worship about which they had speculated, was held at the table, where the head of the house read the Bible. They all sang a verse of an old, well-known hymn, and then Mr. Silverthorn looked down the table to where Luther Waite sat beside Fran Ferrin and said:
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“Luther, will you lead us in prayer this morning?”
The guests looked up, startled. Could this young man pray, as well as sing hymns? They had been used to hearing him tell funny stories, and give marvelous comedy sketches full of mimicry, but to have him asked to pray before them all was something unheard of, and they were sorry for him. If it had been Curlin, with his quiet ways, they would not have been surprised, or of course Link, for they sometimes spoke of him as “the deacon,” half in fun. Or if it had been even Paul with his aristocratic bearing, his well-modulated tones, they would not have felt so sorry for him, for they would have expected any one of those to have carried off the occasion with credit. But Lute! They were almost shocked that Mr. Silverthorn had been rude enough to embarrass him that way. They looked to see him flush, and laugh and hesitate, but there was nothing of that about him as they shoved back their chairs, and knelt following the household’s move.
Luther knelt and his voice was steady and clear as he began to pray. Oh, it was no unaccustomed prayer of a new petitioner. It was rather a happy child talking with his Father. And the words tumbled out impetuously, just as Luther talked. They heard themselves prayed for, not exactly by name, but as if each one was introduced to the Father, His attention called to them, for the day’s mercies. And then the church service. How it came in for petition! The audience that would be shortly gathering was brought before the throne and entreated for. The two girls who had discussed the service and the proposed song, heard themselves brought to the attention of the Most High God, not by name of course, but they recognized themselves at their innermost thoughts were described, pardon was asked for them. Before that prayer was concluded their tears, astonished tears, were flowing down their faces.
Yet it was not a long prayer. A sentence or two to each thought. The language was very simple, like a child bringing a sheaf of petitions, including all who were dear, and all who were present. Bringing them all, down to the amen, with utter confidence that what was asked would be given. Those who listened looked about upon one another wondering if there were a change brought about in themselves, and whether others could see it, such assurance he had brought to them that he would have the things for which he had asked.
When they arose from their knees some of the guests kept their glances down, and some drifted over to the window and remarked on the lovely flowers, and there were several minutes when the air was tense with stirred feelings.
Then suddenly Curlin appeared at the side door coming across the side yard from his own home.
“Time to start to Sunday school!” he called. “Who’s going? All of you?”
Some of the girls looked surprised. Here was a new consideration. One went to Sunday school! Did one have to go to Sunday school? One hadn’t gone to Sunday school since she was a child in the primary class. Did one have to go?
Still, one went to weekends with other people, and if so be that their hosts went to the country club for golf or a swim, or tennis, on Sunday morning, one went along of course even if just to be polite. And now if hosts and hostesses proposed Sunday school did one have to go along just to be polite? They looked around aghast, and hastened to find excuses, but suddenly Luther Waite spoke up in his quick humorous voice:
“Why, of course we’re all going, Curly. Come, gals, go get your bonnets on and don’t keep us waiting.”
Suddenly, without any consultation with one another, they all hurried to get ready. And somehow they liked it. It was following the gang, and it was pleasant even if it was in the name of religion.
That Sunday school was a strange experience for those girls, and perhaps for Paul Redfern also. He belonged to a rich and modern church in the city, and it was safe to say he hadn’t been to Sunday school since his childhood. But he was interested. It was all new to him, this vital joy and interest in things spiritual. Theoretically he approved of it, and it took a hold on him. That Sunday school was different from any he had ever heard of before. It was real Bible study. He and Luther had gone into Link’s class of young men, a large class of fine young fellows. They weren’t all members of the country club. Some of them were students in the local college, some of them were workers in the mills round about. Some of them were mechanics in automobile plants, some were salesmen, and some were men from filling stations and other local places where they were earning their living, but they were all interested in studying that Bible lesson. And Paul was amazed how much Link got out of just common statements in the chapter they were studying. How he directed them to other chapters and other books of the Word. How much he seemed to know!
The church service that followed that study hour was full of vital meaning. A sermon that was short and went to the hearts of the hearers; music which was tender and appropriate to the theme of the day; and then that song at the close of the sermon, with Luther Waite standing up there in the choir, a little apart from the other four who grouped behind him. It stirred them all as much as they had ever been stirred by music or play or any best seller they had ever read.
They walked home from church in the bright sunlight, more quietly than was their wont, and they went through the rest of the happy day with a kind of awe upon them.
“Well, it’s been an awfully strange day,” said Sue that night when they were preparing for rest, “but I don’t feel sorry I went through with it. I’ll never forget it of course. Why, sometimes it almost made me feel as if I would like to be religious myself. I never will of course. But it made me sort of restless inside. I never could be religious. You couldn’t yourself, Betty. You know you couldn’t.”
“I guess I could as well as anybody,” snapped Betty. “That is if I wanted to bad enough.”
“I doubt it,” said Sue. “You’d go off to a dance some night and that would be the end of it.”
“What’s wrong with dancing?” said Betty.
“Well, they don’t do it,” said Sue. “I was asking Rae last night if it was very festive here and they had many dances through the winter, and she said she guessed they did. That dances weren’t in her line. She didn’t say that her religion forbade it or anything, but I gathered that her church was against it or something. I didn’t want to call down any more religion than I’d had so I didn’t ask her, but she did tell me out and out that she didn’t go. That’s the Silverthorns for you. They put their religion first, no matter what!”
“Well, I suppose that’s the way it should be if religion is worth anything.”
“Yes? Well, you never could do that!”
“Yes, I could if I wanted to bad enough!”
“But you never would want to, you know. You just couldn’t want to. You’ve always had too good a time. You couldn’t settle down to a solemn staid life with no fun in it. You couldn’t stand it not to have a good time.”
“I don’t see but the Silverthorns have a pretty good time out of life. I think they seem happier than any people I know. I’m not sure but I’ll try it myself.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t,” said Sue yawning sleepily. “I’ll bet on you to stay the way you are the rest of your time down here.”
“And then what?” asked Betty, after a significant pause. But Sue didn’t answer, and Betty lay there thinking the day over and asking herself the question, “And then what?”
Chapter 10
Minnie Lazarelle dropped down in the seat of the Pullman and watched eagerly out of the window as the train slid slowly out of the station, to catch a glimpse of Lincoln Silverthorn, and get the grave courteous bow he gave her in farewell.
The girl pressed closer to the windowpane and strained her eyes for the last glimpse as she smiled a wistful serious smile at him in acknowledgment of the strange part he had played in her life for the last two days. He was actually the first young man who had ever talked with her seriously, or taken her as if she were a human being with possibilities like other girls. The rest of the young men had always treated her as if she were a gaudy toy flung in their way for a brief space. They had seemed to
talk to her with only half their minds, just passing the time till they could find somebody more interesting.
So she looked back at him as he replaced his hat on his head and began to walk along with the train toward the stairs that led to the floor above. She wanted to impress him upon her memory as something she must never forget. Every line of his fine straight form, every motion, every turn of his head, the light in his eyes, even the tones of his voice as he had told her ugly truths about herself. He seemed almost like a god to this girl who had been so universally disliked.
Other people, both girls and men, had treated her like an ugly joke. They had half sneered, half laughed. But this young man had come straight to the point and told her what she was. Told her bare truths that she had only dimly suspected were so, truths she had kept well hidden even from herself, lest they should come out in the open some day and prove frightening. Link Silverthorn had torn away the covering and made her see herself. And now this morning he had told her a way to cure all this silly soul-sickness of which he had convinced her.
But there wasn’t any foolishness about her feeling for Link. It was all too terrible and real for that! Too sudden and convicting. His face had been like the face of God, as she imagined it would be if God looked at her, his voice like God’s voice, condemnatory. Yet she did not want to forget how he looked. For with the condemnation he had also give her a gleam of hope, and she clutched at that in her heart. She must not forget it and let it pass into oblivion, for if she did, the horrible reality of her unloved life would return, and she would be just as she had always been, an unloved child in the midst of a world that did not want her, did not like her. And she could not bear that!
She shuddered as she settled herself in the seat a bit more comfortably. She could not stand that!
The train had slid out from the tunnel and was hurrying into the outskirts of the great city now. Morning was on the way and all the busy streets were bathed in sunlight. Towers and steeples, great buildings reaching toward the bright sky, filled with gleaming windows, the sunlight glancing from them blindingly. Now and then there were crowded cross streets with busy people hurrying along. She had a hungry sense of wishing she were one of them out there in the brightness, going along to some real interest in life, and not merely returning to a life she hated. It was what she had tried to run away from when she came up to this wedding that didn’t want her. Could she ever be like other people? Beloved, wanted? Link had implied that she could and she clung to that thought, deciding that she would do her utmost to attain that end.