All the months of pain and uncertainty, distress and separation vanished, and they almost saw why the hard things had to be, that this perfect blessing should be theirs. More perfect because they had suffered, more joyous because they knew what it was to think they would never have it.
They were sitting so with the realization of their new happiness upon them, when suddenly the little new clock on the mantel that Martha had bought only a few days ago chimed out the half hour, and beat upon the consciousness of the young doctor, with sharp insistence.
“Great Scott!” he said and looked at his watch. “Can it be possible the time has gone like this? I can hardly get to the office and down to the station in time for the train! It hurts to tear myself away, but I shall have to rush!”
He lifted her to her feet and stooped for one more quick kiss before he rushed to the door.
“I can’t come back tonight, for it will be too late, but I’ll be seeing you. I’ll be calling you. Good night, darling!”
It was during that last quick kiss that Ronald, approaching over the back fence, stopped to reconnoiter at the end window that looked over into the backyard. He placed a curious eye where it would take a full view of the big room before he ventured into the blessed precincts. But what he saw filled him with dismay.
He waited until the front door shut, waited another decent moment or two, and then slowly, dejectedly, he entered the kitchen door that Martha generally kept unlocked for his benefit.
Martha was at the kitchen table cutting out cookies and placing them on the cookie sheets. There was a delicious smell of pleasant baking in the atmosphere. Ronald usually tried to be there on the baking nights. He was always on hand to sample the results.
He stood around till the first batch came out of the oven, helped to take them out of the pan, and spread them on the big china platter that stood ready. Then after he had finished two hot cookies and pronounced them “swell,” he stood back and sighed heavily.
“Good night!” he said gloomily. “I don’t see what people wantta fall in love for! I don’t see what they see in love!”
Martha laughed.
“Well,” she said with an amused half bitterness in her face, “I guess there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”
“No,” he said sorrowfully, “but why did she fall for him? He’s all right, I guess—if he had only stayed away. But good night! Why did he haveta go and spoil everything?”
“Well,” said Martha, endeavoring to be cheery, “a good many people have fallen in love through the years. The world is still going on, and sometimes we have good times.”
“Yes? Well, that Joan of Arc didn’t ever fall in love, did she? Why can’t everybody be like her? Gee! I thought Janice had more sense. I thought she was just like Joan of Arc!”
“Not everybody has to be burned at the stake!” remarked Martha crisply. “But then, perhaps there are more kinds of stakes than just wooden ones.”
There was silence for a minute, and then Ronald said, “Well, boy! We’ve got God left anyway, and He can’t change! I’m glad of that!”
“Cheer up!” said Martha. “It maybe won’t be as bad as we fear.”
“No,” purred Ernestine, coming out from under the table to see if they were going to give her a cookie, “it won’t. I went in for a while and jumped up beside them on the couch, and he seemed quite pleasant. I guess we’re going to get along.”
And out on the highway Dr. Blackwell’s car was speeding along, taking him and his old friend to the train, and one of them had a heavy heart as he went away to pain and loneliness and uncertainty, but the other’s heart was light like heavenly sunshine.
GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL (1865–1947) is known as the pioneer of Christian romance. Grace wrote over one hundred faith-inspired books during her lifetime. When her first husband died, leaving her with two daughters to raise, writing became a way to make a living, but she always recognized storytelling as a way to share her faith in God. She has touched countless lives through the years and continues to touch lives today. Her books feature moving stories, delightful characters, and love in its purest form.
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