Sound of the Trumpet (13 page)

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Authors: Grace Livingston Hill

BOOK: Sound of the Trumpet
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“Thank you,” he said, his voice husky with feeling. “I appreciate that a lot. We are strangers to you.”

“No, not strangers anymore,” said Lisle. “God’s children. Will you give me her address so I can send the flowers?”

He paused under a streetlight and wrote on a card from his pocket.

“It seems I have no right to let you do this,” he said hesitantly. “I can never likely do anything for you.”

“Oh, but you are. You have. You are doing something now. And you saved me from the street when I was alone and frightened. Besides, if it had not been for you, I never would have heard that wonderful Bible lesson, and I feel that is going to make a great difference in my life.”

“I am humbly glad if it will do that,” he said.

And suddenly they reached her home. Without stopping to talk about it they had walked all the way. He looked up at the brilliantly lighted house, wide and stately and luxurious, and she said eagerly, “Come in a little while. I’d like you to meet my mother. She will be grateful to you for looking out for me during the blackout.”

He flashed her a pleasant look from his blue eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, “but I couldn’t. I have things to do yet tonight, and I must go to work early in the morning.”

“You—are—with the water company?” she asked hesitantly.

“Oh, no! That was only to help out in an emergency. I’m working at the shipyard.”

“But that’s defense work. That’s the next best thing to fighting.”

“Yes, but I’d rather be out fighting. I’m able-bodied, and so that is really my place, you know, if it weren’t for my other duty.”

“Yes, I understand,” said Lisle briefly. “You would feel that way. But now I thank you so much for what you have done for me, and I hope I shall see you again before long. I want to get back to that Bible class someday when I can make it possible. So then good night.” She put out her hand to his with the same graciousness she would have shown to any of her society friends. John Sargent took the touch of that small hand in his with him to cherish, as she had been cherishing his first smile, and they went on their ways out into the troublesome world, with the vision of their Christ between them.

Mrs. Kingsley wasn’t home yet from an evening dinner engagement, and therefore Lisle had no questions to answer about the blackout. Perhaps her mother did not even know there had been a blackout, since most of her friends were provided with blackout curtains and lived in their usual blaze of light behind them while their world was in darkness.

Lisle went straight to her room, prepared herself for rest, and then took out her Bible that had been a gift when she was very young. A beautiful Bible, and beautifully kept, with scarcely a mark of use, though she had idled through a supposed course in instruction in it in college.

She turned the pages almost awesomely, as one might approach a familiar friend whom one is for the first time just discovering as being of royal blood. She had to look in the index to discover where Isaiah was located, but when she found it, she pored over those first chapters that had been touched upon in the class that night. She was fascinated as she read the verses, finding that the new truths she had heard fairly leaped at her from the pages and became alive and real with a clear sense that they would never have meant to her before. She found herself thinking,
Oh, is that what that expression meant? Why, I never dreamed before that it was anything but a lovely essay or poem with no relation whatever to anything in existence today!

Finally, when she was ready to lie down and sleep, she knelt beside her bed. All her life she had been in the habit of what she had always called “saying her prayers,” but tonight was different. Her heart was coming to a Presence she had never sensed before, and as she knelt, once more that vision of the Christ stood before her closed eyes, in the semi-darkness of her room. And so she knelt, with her heart laid bare before her new Christ. Not asking for anything, just waiting before Him, acknowledging her new knowledge of what He had done for her.

When she lay down in her bed her heart was singing softly,

I have seen the face of Jesus,

Tell me not of aught beside,

I have heard the voice of Jesus,

And my soul is satisfied.

Somehow she drifted off to sleep, and mingled with the music in her heart, she found that a silver thread of consciousness was twisted—a consciousness that another soul understood and was a sort of partner in this knowledge of salvation that had come to her tonight. And there was just a bit of wistfulness that war horrors and restrictions might be over, and she might somehow come to have this strange young man for one of her friends. Definitely Victor could not compare with him.

Chapter 8

T
he next morning Lisle awoke with a kind of wonder in her mind. Had all that really happened the night before—the blue moon, the meeting with John Sargent, the dark room, and the message? More especially, the vision she had had of Christ? Could that all have been a dream or just a figment of her imagination?

She sprang up and looked in her handbag where she remembered she had placed the address John had given her. Yes, it was there. Mrs. John Hartley Sargent. A pretty name. Poor dear lady! She must send some flowers that morning. Roses? Deep crimson and pure white together. That would be bright and sweet, and those fall crimson roses had such a spicy, heartening perfume. Surely even sick senses could see and smell such roses.

She must not send too many, as if she were showing off her wealth. She wanted the roses to speak of kindly loving friendship to the dear lady whose grandson loved her so.

She decided she would not speak of this. It was just a little private thing she wanted to do. Her mother might not understand her sudden acquaintance with this stranger. She might be alarmed. Mothers were that ways sometimes. Strange that they so readily surrendered to the correct people of good standing and large fortunes! Well, what did it matter? She likely would see very little, if any more, of this man, and it was foolish to worry her mother over something that would never need trouble her at all. Something that she would scarcely understand. Lisle sensed that her mother had been sheltered all her life and was afraid of anything that was not exactly conventional.

When she went down to breakfast, and after her father had gone to his office, while she and her mother sat talking, her mother asked, “Where were you last night during the blackout, dear? They tell me there was a blackout, though of course I didn’t hear of it till afterward. I hope you were not out in it. I really don’t like this new fashion you have of running around evenings without an escort. I do wish Victor would come to his senses and come back and take care of you.”

“Oh, Mother! Don’t wish that! I don’t want him back. But I was quite all right, Mother dear! I went into a place where they were having a Bible class and stayed until it was over, and then one of the class members brought me home.”

“Well, that was kind, I’m sure. But it certainly would have been more congenial to you to have had an escort of your own kind.”

“I’m afraid, Mother, that I shall never again feel that Victor Vandingham is one of my own kind. I’ve been feeling more and more of late that he just isn’t. He tries me almost beyond endurance, and I shall be so very glad when that terrible party is over. I somehow feel all out of harmony with a party of that sort.”

“Well, now, my dear, you mustn’t let your feelings run away with you. You don’t want to get narrow just because Victor has displeased you.”

“You don’t understand, Mother. I think I’m growing up and beginning to understand what things are worthwhile in life. Do you know, Mother, I enjoyed that Bible class so much, what I heard of it! I’d like you to go down there with me sometime and see if you don’t like it. I’m sure you would. The teacher was very interesting and brought out truths I’ve never heard before.”

“Oh, indeed! Well, that was nice, since you were stranded there and couldn’t get away. But my dear, you must be careful not to let yourself get morbid and fanatical. That isn’t a healthy way to grow. You don’t want to let one disappointment blast your whole life.”

“What do you mean, disappointment, Mother? Victor doesn’t mean that much to me, and I guess never did. But I certainly am definitely disappointed in him. He is acting like a young king about this silly party, and I hate the thought of going to it.”

“Well, that’s a foolish way to take it. Don’t make that much of it. Just take it in your week’s program, no more, no less. And you know you simply must get that matter of your dress settled. Perhaps the easiest way will be to just run downtown this morning and buy a new one.”

“No, Mother! I wouldn’t toady that much to Victor, and I don’t think it’s right to spend a lot of money on a foolish dress I won’t likely wear again till this war is over, and then it will be all out of fashion.”

“Well, then get out your dresses and decide. I telephoned Miss Rilley to see if she could give us a couple of days to make any alterations your dress may need, but she is engaged in a factory helping to do something in the work of making airplanes, I think. Then I tried Miss Howe, but she is taking nurse’s training. There doesn’t seem to be anybody we know and trust who could make the alterations with any satisfaction. I think perhaps you better take it down to the department store, or Madame Sibilla’s. Perhaps that will be the simplest.”

“No, Mother,” said Lisle firmly, “I’m not going to have any alterations made. I’m wearing the dark blue tulle, with a white silk sash, and I’m sewing a lovely deep red silk cord on the edge of the sash myself. Then it won’t cost a thing. I have the red cord. Your idea about our country’s colors was just the thing, and I’ll wear my string of pearls and my pearl star in my hair. I don’t believe Victor has ever seen that dress, but if he has, I don’t care. It’s what I’m going to wear. Now let’s forget it, and I’ll try and get through that party somehow. I only wish I didn’t have to go. ‘Tomorrow night, tomorrow night,’ I keep saying to myself. I only wish it were over.”

“Why, my dear! I am distressed at your attitude. If you go with that thought in mind, I am sure it will come out and be seen. You mustn’t let it appear that you and Victor are not as good friends as ever. When you get through this party, you know you can drop him if you still want to, but really, for his mother’s sake, and because there will be a great many gossipy tongues set wagging if there is any change noticed from your usual attitude, you must go through with this and carry it off in your usual brave, sweet way.”

Thus her mother counseled her, and with a sigh, Lisle went up to her room, laid out her things she was to wear, got everything in good shape, and then sat down to put the scarlet cord on her sash. She wanted to be sure her costume was beyond criticism early in the day and then she could rest easy.

But before the sewing was done and she tried on the sash to make sure it was all right, she locked her door and threw herself down on her knees beside her bed. Somehow she felt the need of being in touch with her new Counselor, and though she was new at real prayer and scarcely knew how to voice her needs, she cried out for help.

“Dear Christ,” she whispered, “it seems that I am going to a place where You will not be. Or,
will
You be there, too? For I know You are everywhere. Please help me to remember all the time that You
are
there. Please show me how to act and help me not to do anything that will be displeasing to You. Help me, if Victor or his mother ask me to do what I do not feel is right, to find a way out without making a scene or being discourteous. You’ll have to show me how, for I always get angry when Victor is so disappointing, and I know getting angry does no good. Help me to be strong and sweet and not to forget You are there, too!”

She was still for a long time after she ceased voicing her petition, seeing dimly once more the vision that had come to her the night before, and its memory soothed her troubled spirit.

Then she rose and went down in response to the summons to lunch, and her face, though not exactly bright, was full of peace.

“You’ll be all right, Lisle,” said her mother with a smile. “Just remember that your family is every bit as good as the Vandingham family, and hold your head up.”

Somehow her mother’s encouraging words struck a harsh note on the spirit that had been bending low in prayer. The words she said in answer startled her worried mother.

“Mother, it wasn’t meant to be this way, was it, when the world was made?”

“What way? What do you mean?” asked her mother anxiously.

“Why, people caring about families. Why should one family be any better than another? Why should we care? God made us all. Didn’t He mean us to be alike?”

“Why, my child! How strangely you talk! Of course, but not everybody chose to be ‘alike,’ as you say. Some went one way, some another, and it’s what we have become that counts. Some have worked hard and gained wealth, and prestige, of course, which follows wealth, and some have been lazy and haven’t tried. So there is a very great difference now in the families of the earth. Fortunately for you, your family has been one of the best and greatest. Your ancestors on both sides have had notable people, writers and thinkers and statesmen, many wealthy businessmen, some great inventors. I doubt if even the Vandinghams can number as many outstanding names.”

Lisle looked troubled.

“But Mother, after all, does that need to count so much? Isn’t it pleasing God that counts most?”

“Why, yes, of course, Lisle,” her mother replied embarrassedly, “but why are you talking so much about God? You aren’t going to turn fanatical, are you?” She gave a little laugh apologetically. “You know, dear, that would be most unfortunate. You would be likely to make people think you had a broken heart, and if you should give up Victor, you don’t want people to think you are brokenhearted.”

Lisle laughed a sweet ripple of amused laughter.

“Mother! If you can’t find something real to worry over, you make up something. I declare I never heard anything so funny. The idea of my having a broken heart over Victor! Why Mother, I’ve lived without him for four years and more, and I’m not going to collapse now without him. In fact, I think I’d be relieved if he would just fall in love with somebody else and let me alone. He is getting to be a regular pest, and I don’t know what to do about it. If only he’ll behave at the party, I’ll be very thankful. Now, Mother, if you’ll please come upstairs and see how I look in my dress. I’ve got the sash all fixed, and I do hope it passes your critical eye, for I think it’s lovely.”

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