The old man and women with whom she had come lingered outside in an old wagon, waiting for her. Seagrave and she stood beneath the smoky oil lamp, straight in view of the open door, and talked. Seagrave had then his first opportunity to really point the way of life to a seeking soul, and right there under the flare of that light they knelt together, while with unaccustomed lips he asked the Lord to accept this girl and to forgive her.
Out in the darkness, behind the wooded roadside, a shadow lurked, still and grim. But the old man and woman in the wagon did not see it move and crouch and look, nor did the old man who lingered to put out the smoky lamp and lock the door.
The girl came out and got into the wagon, and the old man drove away. Seagrave came out with a cheery good night to the old man as he lingered until he had locked the door, and then both mounted their horses and rode away in opposite directions.
The moon came up and made a silvery light along the way, and Seagrave was filled with joy. He felt like singing. He began to hum the tune of one of the hymns they had sung in the meeting, his clear baritone ringing far on the still stretches of the open.
Then suddenly there came a stinging pain in his side, another an instant later through his right arm. He felt himself sliding from his horse and the light of the moon going out.
A dark shadow stole away from a group of trees, back on the road he had come, and slid along through the woods until it mounted a horse and disappeared into the night.
But Seagrave lay where he had fallen, with the moonlight shining silver over his white face and his horse whinnying beside him.
Chapter 22
Fraley had walked a great part of the way back to the city, her mind in such turmoil of anger and humiliation and penitence that she could not reason. It was several hours later when she arrived at the house and walked straight up to Violet, who happened to be downstairs reading in the library.
“I’ve done a terrible thing,” she said, her face white and her eyes dark with emotion. “You won’t like it at all. I lost my temper, and I’ve been rude to a lot of your friends at the country club. I made what you’ll call a scene right before everybody! I’m very sorry if I have mortified you, but I couldn’t do what they tried to make me. I wouldn’t, not if they killed me!” she finished, her lips stern and set.
“What in the world do you mean, been rude? Made a scene at the country club? Why did you have to do that? For pity’s sake, stop being excited and explain!” said Violet coldly, at once on the defensive. Here was probably some more of the child’s outrageous Puritanism, and it had to be nipped in the bud. It couldn’t go on any longer.
Fraley leaned back against the doorway and closed her tired eyes for an instant, drawing a deep breath, and then she gathered strength and began.
“They were trying to force me to drink liquor!” she said with a fierce little intake of breath.
“Who were?” asked Violet, her voice like an icicle.
“Alison and her friends. She said you had told her she must teach me before I came home.” There was a question in Fraley’s voice, almost a pleading, but Violet would not let herself respond to it. She looked steadily, coldly at the girl, and after an instant, a weary little shadow passed over the sweet face, and Fraley went on. “They caught me, all those young men, and put me in a big chair and held me! They had no right to touch me!”
She was still struggling between her sense of being wronged and her penitence for having lost her temper.
“They said they would not let me up, and they held the glass to my lips and tried to pry my lips open and force me to take it!”
Still there was no relenting in the cold eyes of the woman who listened. The white lids fluttered down and up again bravely.
“I wouldn’t. It was a long time, and I wouldn’t! They hurt me holding my arms so hard; I suppose that was one thing that made me so angry. They hurt my neck, and they hurt my lips. But I shouldn’t have been so angry. And then, when they said they would let me go if I would tell them why I would not play bridge or smoke or drink, it seemed as though I just had to. So I told them.”
“What did you tell them?” Violet’s tone was tense now.
“I told them about the cabin on the mountain where I was born, and the men who used to play cards with my father and smoke and drink and curse my mother and throw things at her, and how they got drunk and pushed my father off the cliff and killed him!” Fraley paused for a desperate breath. “Alison Fraley had been sneering at me, and I looked right at her and told her that my dear mother, who had to stand all that, was her father’s sister and that she had no right to try to make me do what my mother had spent her life in teaching me not to do.”
“You told Alison that you were related to her!”
“Yes!” Fraley lifted brave, steady eyes.
“Well,” said Violet at last, after a brief interval of thought in which conflicting emotions played over her face, “you certainly have made a pretty mess of things. I might have known that a young savage like you couldn’t be trusted to go off alone among civilized people. Now, there has got to be an understanding between you and me, and we might as well have it over with. It’s been coming to you for some time. You’ve got to learn that if you stay here you must conform to my habits and customs. For instance, next week I’m giving that dinner, and I want you to be present to help entertain my guests. That’s why I bought you all those imported dresses and things. But you can’t come to a dinner and act like a Puritan. You’ve got to do your part and be a lady of the world. This matter of cocktails is most important. A lady knows how to drink in a ladylike way, and there is no reason whatever why a cocktail in a drawing room or a glass of champagne at a dinner table among respectable men and women of society should remind you of a lot of boors in the wilderness who are too low down and sottish to be spoke of as human beings. Now, young lady, you may take your choice. You either make up your mind to drink what is set before you and behave yourself, or you leave my house! Do you understand that?”
Violet had grown very angry as she talked. She was incensed that this frail little girl with no background whatever should dare to stand against her. It offended her pride. She wanted Fraley to adore her and think her word was law. It was Fraley’s admiration that had won her in the first place to take this child of the wilds and try to make her over. She wanted somebody who was lovely to glorify Violet Wentworth and help to make her name great, and she was filled with fury that she was not paramount in the girl’s thoughts. She was jealous of her fine allegiance to God and her Bible and the things her mother had taught her.
Fraley stood very still and looked at her, her eyes growing large and dark with sorrow, her face growing whiter. It seemed as if she could not believe that her friend, who had done so much for her, had spoken those awful words.
Violet saw how the child was stirred and pressed her advantage.
“I mean every word that I have said!” she said sternly. “You’ve got a whole week to decide. You can go upstairs now and think it over.”
Fraley suddenly dropped her white lids like curtains drawn quickly, and two large tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed on the floor by her little dusty shoes.
There was silence in the room for a full minute while the girl struggled to gain her self-control. Then she lifted her eyes again, bright with sorrow, and spoke bravely.
“All right,” she said, with her lips quivering. “But there’s something I must tell you first. You ought to know.”
“Go on,” said the cold voice.
“It’s about that man, that Mr. Easton that comes here to see you. I’ve found he’s a bad man. I saw him at the country club in an alcove this morning kissing that Lilla Hobart. He had her in his arms and was looking down into her face the way I saw him look at you the first night I came. I thought you ought to know.”
“Get out!” shouted Violet in a fury, her face red and her eyes terribly angry. “You are meddling with things that are none of your business! Get out of my sig
ht!”
Meekly, with her whole slender form drooping in sorrow, her head bent, Fraley turned and went out of the room. She walked slowly up the stairs and into her room and locked the door. Then she dropped upon her knees, and her body shook with a tempest of tears while she tried to pray. Somehow this seemed to her worse than anything that had come to her since her mother’s death.
But she had no time for weeping, and her prayer was short—just a cry for help and guidance. Then she rose with determination in her face and began to undress. There was no doubt in her mind what she had to do.
As she drew off the pretty sports dress that she had worn at the country club, the letter that she had tucked in the pocket fell to the floor. She stooped and, with a startled look, picked it up. She had forgotten it. But the sight of it brought her no joy. It was only a reminder of another pleasant thing in her life lost.
She went to the bureau and put the letter safely inside her handbag, the one that Violet had given her on the train. She had kept it carefully and used it when she went out in the morning by herself. Somehow it had seemed to belong to her more than the elegant trifles that Violet had bought for her to go with the new outfits to be used in her capacity as social secretary.
Fraley put on the dress and hat that had been given to her on the train and selected the shoes and stockings that were bought to go with it that first day of shopping. Then she sat down at the desk and wrote two notes.
My dear lady: [the first began]
I am going away at once as you have said I must, and I cannot stand it to say good-bye to you, because I have loved you so much and you have been so good to me. But I want to tell you just once more how grateful I am to you for all you have done and for the things you have wanted to do for me. I am sorry I cannot please you by doing the things you wanted me to, but they are things I cannot do. They are things that would not be right for me to do. I think you will understand someday.I am going to pray to God to make you understand why I could not do it. I am going to pray to Him to help you to love Him and His Bible, and then you will be very happy.
I am wearing away the first things you gave me, because it might shame you if I went out of your house in the things I wore from the mountain, but they were things you said you were going to give away anyway, and someday I hope I will earn enough money to pay you for the beautiful shoes and other things.
I ask your pardon for anything I may have done to trouble you, and I shall never forget how good you were to me.
Lovingly,
Fraley MacPherson
The other note was to Jeanne:
Dear Jeanne:
I am sorry, but I find I have to go away quite suddenly and unexpectedly. I shall miss the Bible readings with you,and I hope you will keep on reading by yourself. I shall always pray for you. Sometime, perhaps, I can see you again. I shall not forget you.
In haste, and very lovingly,
Fraley MacPherson
When she had addressed these notes, she laid them on the desk where she was sure they would be noticed. Then she went to the treasure drawer and unlocked it, taking out the old woolen bag her mother had made and the little garments made of salt bags and all the things she had brought with her from the mountain. She packed them carefully, putting the old Bible in first and tucking the other things around it. She hesitated with her own little Scofield Bible as she was about to put it in and then, with a sigh, laid it out on her bureau. She had bought it with her own money and had loved it and marked some of the verses in it that she loved the best, but now it occurred to her that she was leaving this house without a Bible. If she left it here, perhaps Violet would sometimes open it and read, or Jeanne would come in when nobody was around. She would not dare give the Bible to Violet, but if she left it there as if she had forgotten it God might let it do its work somehow. Of course she had the old Bible, and it wouldn’t matter so much now how it looked; there would be no one but herself to mind the cotton covers. By and by when she was earning something she would dare to spend the money for another one, and until then she could do with the old one.
So she left her new Bible on the bureau.
She found a large piece of wrapping paper in the hall closet and wrapped up her bag carefully. Then with a sorrowful look around the room that would be hers no more, she turned and went slowly, softly, down the stairs and let herself out of the door. There was no one around, and though she looked back for a last good-bye to the spot that had grown so dear, she saw nobody at the windows.
Then she knew that until this last minute she had somehow hoped that Violet would relent and call her back and tell her she did not mean that awful sentence of exile she had pronounced upon her.
With tears blinding her eyes, Fraley stumbled on down the street, block after block, narrowly escaping being run over as she heedlessly crossed the side streets.
At last, when she had gone a long distance from the house and knew that she was beyond the sight of anyone who knew her, she went across to the strip of park and sat down on a bench. She had often sat here before, when she was taking walks by herself, and watched the river in its varying moods, but now it only looked sad to her, for she was leaving this neighborhood forever and would not feel like going back to it again.
Then she remembered her letter, and a sharp pang came at the thought that this friend, too, must be renounced because he belonged to someone else. Nevertheless, she must read that letter.
She opened it with fingers that trembled with the excitement of actually hearing from him again, but at the first words, a beautiful light broke over her face.
Dear Ladybird: [it read]
At last you have sent me your address and I can write to you. I have been very anxious about you all these months of silence for many reasons, but now I am glad to get your letter. And glad it came just this night, too, for I have something to tell you that I think will make you glad.
I have this night given my old self over to your Jesus Christ, and I feel that I am born again. You probably know more than I do about that wonderful miracle, so I do not need to tell you, but I want you to know that it is because of you that I have found out that I was a sinner and needed to be born again. I can’t think of words great enough to thank you for what you have done, little Ladybird, and now I am no more just a raven, nor an angel either, thank God, for I can sign myself a child of God, and I guess that is better than being an angel. Anyhow, it looks good to me.
I’ve been a bit worried about you though, since you told me you had been picked up by Violet Wentworth. I know her well, but she isn’t your kind, little girl; she’s a woman of the world and a hard-boiled one, I’m afraid, and although I’m deeply grateful to her for having helped you over a hard place, I don’t want you to stay too long with her. She might somehow make you forget the wonderful things God has taught you out of His Book. She doesn’t know anything about such things, and I don’t want you spoiled, Ladybird.
My sick man is about well now. He’s coming out of the hospital next week, and then very soon he’ll come on and take his work, and I’ll come home. There are a great many things I mean to do when I get there, for my whole life is changed now and I’m a new man in Christ Jesus, but the first thing I am going to do is to see that you are safe and happy.
So write to me, little friend, for we are going to be friends always, you know, and tell me all about yourself, and soon I’ll be home and come at once to see you.
Your friend, who is more grateful to you than you can ever understand, for leading him to Jesus,
Sincerely,
George R. Seagrave
With heart almost bursting with joy and renunciation, Fraley read this letter twice and three times before she folded it and put it away. Then she gathered up her bundle and started out into a new world and a new life again. As before she was leaving all behind but her Bible, but God was with her, and she could trust Him to bring her where He wanted her. That ought to be enough.
About that time, Violet, who had gone to
her room after Fraley left her and had failed to be able to get to sleep as usual because she was strangely disturbed, came down the stairs to the library to get her book. She could not get away from the thought of the distressed eyes, the pitiful white face, and the glint of the two tears that had rolled down and splashed on the floor. She wanted to absorb herself in her book again to drive the vision from her. This was going to be excellent discipline for Fraley, and she must not be softhearted and relent just because of two tears.
She had just settled herself in her favorite chair again when the bell rang and Alison walked in, unannounced, her face dark and angry.
“I thought I’d find you here!” she said as she flung herself into another chair and took out her cigarette case. “Such a day as I’ve had! I just thought I’d run in and tell you how well I succeeded in carrying out your orders. Where is that little viper? Is she anywhere around? I’d like to tell you in front of her what she said to me.”
Violet looked up, her eyes fully as cold as they had been when talking with Fraley.
“You certainly don’t seem to have exercised much common sense or taste in doing it,” she remarked coolly. “You ought to have known you couldn’t get anywhere by force with a girl of as strong character as that one.”
“Strong character!” sneered Alison. “I’ll say so! The way she slung words around. Wait till I tell you what she did!”
“She has told me,” said Violet, again strangely drawn to defend her protégée.
“She told you!” exclaimed Alison incredulously. “I’ll bet she told you a good story for herself!”
“She always tells the truth,” said Violet, almost against her will.
“Well, she didn’t this time. Wait till I tell you what she said about her mother and my father.”
“But that happens to be true, too.”
“Vi! What can you mean?”