Marigold gave her testimony slowly, deliberately, with a hint of triumph in the lifting of her head and a radiance in her face. Irene Trescott looked at her with a great yearning in her own eyes.
“There!” she said suddenly. “You have got something that other people don’t have! I’ve thought that for some time. I wish Laurie could have it. He might have been worthy of you. I wish I could have it!”
“Oh, you can!” said Marigold with sudden yearning to help this other soul. “I wish I had known more about it when I was seeing Laurie often. I wish I had told him about it. But I don’t think I’ll be seeing him anymore. You see, I haven’t known all this so very long myself, not in this beautiful, personal way.”
“Well, I wish you’d tell me about it sometime. I need something, goodness knows! I’m terribly unhappy, and I haven’t even the consolation of drink. I’ve seen too much of the effects of it in other lives to take that way to drown my sorrows. But I’m bored to death, and I want something. If I come to you again sometime, will you tell me about what you have? Not now, for I’ve a dinner engagement tonight and I must be going. And next week I’m going south for a while. But when I get back, may I come and have a talk with you?”
“Oh yes,” said Marigold, suddenly shy, “I’ll be so glad if I can help you.”
Irene Trescott looked at her earnestly for a moment and then suddenly stooped over and kissed her cheek.
“You’re sweet!” she said. “Good-bye. I’ll come and see you when I get back.”
As she turned to go to the door, Marigold put out her hand.
“But you don’t have to wait till you get back,” she said. “You can go to Him tonight and tell Him all about it, and He’ll take you. He’s the Son of God, and He died to take your place, shed His blood to pay the penalty of your sins, and it only takes believing that to make you His. If you just kneel down tonight and tell Him you will, it can all be settled.”
Irene Trescott studied the earnest face of the girl for a moment, and then she said, “Well, I’ll see! Perhaps I will.”
Then she was gone.
Chapter 21
Marigold stood there, stirred, wondering, thrilled to think she had been able to tell another soul how to be saved, filled with awe at the joy it gave her.
She went slowly back to the kitchen and began to put away the dishes she had washed, pondering on the strange happenings that had come to her during this week, though it seemed far more than a week when she thought of all that had happened. It almost seemed as if she had lived a lifetime in those few short days. She gave a little shiver as she remembered where she was last night at this time. Weary, she was now, so weary and heartsick over all that experience! And yet in just one day she seemed to have come so far away from it! Laurie was put out of her life as definitely and fully as if she had never known him!
Then it came over her how very tired and sleepy she was, how much she wanted to rest and not think any more about it. As soon as she had eaten something, she would go right to bed and get rested. She would not think at all about anything, just ask God to take care of her, and go to sleep.
But while she was getting a piece of toast and a cup of tea made, it suddenly came over her how strange it was that she should have had these two callers in one afternoon. Both relatives of Laurie’s; one asking her, begging her to marry Laurie, and the other warning her not to. She put back her head and laughed at the irony of it all. And then she put down her head on her arms and shed a tear or two! Until the toast began to burn, and then she put aside her thoughts and tried to eat something.
She had only taken one bite, however, when there came another knock on the door, and this time a heavier one, not a woman’s knock.
She laid down the toast and gave a frightened look out into the living room. Who had come now? Not any more of Laurie’s relatives, surely. Not his father! Oh, God! Help me! I’m so tired, and I’m all alone!
For an instant she thought about keeping still and not going to the door. She could not stand any more that night. Then the knock was repeated, a little more insistently, and it occurred to her that maybe it was somebody from the library come to ask after her mother.
She went wearily over to the door, hoping it might be just the milkman for his money. She was so tired and hungry.
She took a deep breath of a sigh, braced herself for whatever might be waiting for her, and, putting out her hand, opened the door.
For an instant she couldn’t believe her eyes, for there stood Ethan Bevan! Then the joy came sweeping down upon her, and she put out her hands, both hands, and her eyes gave him welcome, even more than she knew.
“Ethan!” she said gladly. “Oh Ethan! I’ve needed you so much!”
Suddenly, without the slightest warning, Ethan’s arms went around her, and he gathered her close to his chest.
“I love you, my little dear love,” murmured Ethan, bending down to lay his face on hers.
And Marigold came into his arms like a homing bird and rested, feeling such joy as she never knew was on earth.
Suddenly the bliss of the moment was rudely broken by the sound of eager footsteps hurrying toward the door of the room across the hall.
“Oh, quick! Shut the door!” giggled Marigold, lifting her rosy face from Ethan’s tweed overcoat. “She thinks she has to oversee everything.”
But Ethan had already reached out one hand and closed the door behind him and now gathered Marigold into his arms again and laid his lips upon hers.
“My darling!” he murmured. “My darling Marigold!” And Marigold felt that there could be no sweeter words on earth than those.
Now Ethan Bevan had by no means come to Philadelphia with any such denouement in view. All the way up as he sat in the train, he had been calling himself a fool for having come. Marigold might not want him, might put on her aloofness that she had worn that first day in Washington when she obviously resented his presence, might have some engagement, and he might be bringing about a very embarrassing situation.
Who was he, anyway, but a stranger? They had had a few pleasant talks, and he had been able to help her to understand some truths from the Bible, for which he was thankful, but he must not presume upon that!
He remembered the letter that had lain between them on the chair as they knelt to pray. That letter had troubled him a lot, ever since he went back to Washington, until he had to pray about it and ask the Lord to take it out of his mind. Marigold had a friend, whether wisely or not, a person who had been something to her, more or less, presumably more, and he, Ethan, should play no part in her life.
There might have been a break between them, it was true, but he had promised to pray for him—that had been rather understood between them he was sure, though the man had not been mentioned openly. Still, the woman across the hall had called him “your young man,” and she had said that he took Marigold out often in his car. Ethan had been trying all the week to teach his heart not to give that sick thud whenever he thought of that remark. He had been trying to pray for the unknown young man as one whom Christ loved and who might also be loved by this girl. Yet all the while Marigold’s face had come dancing before his vision with the wistful look in her eyes, or with the happy look when she had been enjoying something with him in Washington. And now and again, fight against it as he would, he kept remembering the thrill of her in his arms as he carried her down those stairs in the Capitol and felt her frightened face against his shoulder. He remembered the touch of her tears on his hand as he wiped them away at the foot of the stairs.
He had prided himself on keeping away from all women, on concentrating on his job and letting the world go by, on taking his joy in sharing the Gospel here and there where souls seemed to need it. And now here, after all his resolutions, he had fallen for a girl who belonged to someone else—or so it seemed—and he was just going to make a fool of himself like any other fool. Traipsing off to get her! Making an excuse to spend a few hours with her on the train, just because his soul had been
hungering for a sight of her all this week!
So he had reasoned with himself, and he told himself that he must be very distant and reserved with her. Treat her like a younger sister; help her as a Christian brother! And not for anything in the world, not under any circumstances, let her suspect for an instant that he had the slightest interest in her, apart from her salvation and her Christian growth.
Having given himself a set of very severe rules for a young man calling upon a girl who was practically engaged to somebody else, having trembled in his soul as he drew nearer to her home, and having braced himself with commands like the laws of the Medes and Persians to guard his soul, he had marched up those stairs, and—taken her right in his arms before even the door was closed! A fine gentleman he was! And he didn’t care! He was happier than he had ever been in his life. And before he said anything about it, or even questioned his soul, he bent above his dear Marigold and kissed her long and sweetly and thrilled to her lips as he had thrilled to the thought of her dear self all day, whenever he couldn’t keep himself from thinking of her.
But after a little while, she dropped from the weariness of her joy, dropped in his arms, and looked up with such a beatific smile that his heart was strengthened to speak plainly.
“I didn’t know,” he said, “whether you belonged to someone else or not. I told myself that I must wait and see, that I must not let you know my heart till I found out. And here I have walked in and taken you by storm! Can you forgive me? For oh, I do love you!”
Marigold looked up and forgot all the weariness and perplexity of the hours that had gone before and smiled her joy into his face and heart.
“And I love you!” she said softly. “I think,” said Marigold—and thought she spoke the sacred truth—“I think that I have loved you ever since I looked into your eyes!”
“You certainly didn’t look it!” said Ethan suddenly and kissed her again. “I’m afraid you are a dear little liar, with it all, for I could swear you did anything but love me that first day you spent in Washington.”
“Well, maybe I didn’t know it yet,” twinkled Marigold, “but in my heart I’m sure I did, because I feel as if I had been at home with you always.”
“You dear!”
Then startlingly the little clock on the mantel chimed six, and simultaneously the two absorbed lovers realized that the room was full of the odor of burnt toast and had been for some time, only they hadn’t noticed it until now.
Marigold switched off the toaster, and Ethan suddenly remembered why he had come up to Philadelphia.
“Is that all the dinner you were getting for yourself?” he asked. “Is that why your cheeks looked pale and thin when I came in? They don’t look so now, I’ll admit, but I’m afraid you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself. Do you know what I came up here for, young lady?”
“I thought perhaps you came to tell me that you loved me,” said Marigold in a very small, shy voice.
“Well, yes, that’s why I wanted to come, but ostensibly I came to take you back to Washington, and we’re starting in half an hour. Can you get ready that soon?”
“Oh, Ethan! Really? How wonderful! But—why, I’ll have to make supper for us first.”
“We’ll eat on the train. That’s what I’d planned, only I didn’t take into account how you were going to come and take me right into your heart with a look, you precious! Swallow that tea, and then go and get your hat on. Because I don’t want to keep the two mothers waiting too long. They’re expecting us. What do you have to take along? Can’t I pack it? Just a toothbrush and that green dress, perhaps. I like that.”
“Oh!” said Marigold, laughing breathlessly and then rushed into action.
“Oh, you don’t need to wash the dishes,” said Ethan. “I’ll fix this kitchen to leave. You go get ready. Don’t you know I’ve cooked at camp?”
He held the cup and plate under the spigot and mopped them with a towel that hung on the rack. He disconnected the toaster, turned out the gas stove, put the bread into the bread box, and fastened the windows.
“There,” he called to Marigold, who was wildly flinging a few necessities into her suitcase and folding the green dress and the brown suit in a scandalous hurry, “I’ve fixed everything to leave! We’ll let the lady across the hall do the rest.”
Gloves, purse, hairbrush—Marigold was thinking over the absolute necessities, too happy to care whether she had them all or not.
Ethan telephoned for a taxi while Marigold rushed over to tap at Mrs. Waterman’s door.
“Oh, Mrs. Waterman,” she said eagerly, “Mother has sent a friend to bring me down to Washington again for the weekend. I’m leaving right away. Would you mind telling the milkman and the bread man I shan’t need any till Monday? And—what’s that? The telephone? Oh no, you needn’t bother to answer it. There won’t be anything important, I’m sure. Just let it ring!”
Then suddenly the telephone rang out as if in protest.
Marigold rushed back to answer it.
“Hello! Who? Oh, Miss Trescott! Yes?”
“I just thought I ought to tell you before you read it in the papers,” said Irene Trescott earnestly, “Laurie escaped from the hospital this afternoon and went out and got married to that girl, that Lily Trevor, and he’s bringing her home. Or rather, she’s bringing him home. She just telephoned and said he was pretty drunk, but they were married, and she’d see that he was all right in a few days if they would just be patient till she got him in hand. I thought you ought to know. Good-bye. And, oh Marigold! I hope your God will bless you!”
“The taxi is here, Marigold,” called Ethan from down in the hall.
“Coming!” said Marigold happily, her voice like a sweet song as she hastily locked the door and flew down the stairs.
Chapter 22
Oh the bliss of that brief ride to the station in the quiet darkness of the taxi—Ethan’s arm stealing around her and drawing her a little closer to him; her hand in Ethan’s while the lights of the city flashed by, leaving no terror in her heart; Ethan’s love around her like a garment. She felt almost crowned. They sat in sweet silence and let their gladness have its way in their hearts.
In the train at last, Ethan caring for her.
“We’re going right into the diner,” he said as he surrendered his coat to the porter of the Pullman and tossed his hat into the rack above their chairs. “You ought to have some dinner right away. I seem to feel that you’re all in.” He smiled tenderly down at her.
“Not anymore!” said Marigold, giving him a bright glance.
People were coming into the car now, chattering about which chairs were theirs. Marigold felt proud of her escort. It seemed so wonderful that this was to be her lot now, a companion like this for her lifetime, and not just for a single hour or two. Oh, God had been good to her!
“I like that hat!” said Ethan as he sat opposite her in the diner presently and looked across the table admiringly. “And that pretty red dress. And the fur coat. They all suit you wonderfully.”
“It’s a very old coat, and quite shabby,” said Marigold, looking down at it ruefully. “But I didn’t dare come without it in this cold weather.”
“It doesn’t look shabby. It looks homey, as if it belonged. When it wears out, I shall get you another just like it. It is wonderful on you, makes you look like a princess. It’s going to be great to have someone to buy pretty things for.”
“Oh!” said Marigold, pink cheeked and shining eyed at the preciousness of his words.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “we’re going to get the prettiest ring they have in Washington!” And then he grinned at the sweet confusion of her face.
Such a happy meal, Ethan ordering almost everything on the menu and insisting on her eating. Such joy! And only last night—!
Ethan saw the shadow cross her eyes.
“You’re not sorry?” he asked anxiously.
“Oh no!” she said fervently, with such a look in her eyes that he was satis
fied. “I was only thinking of some dreadful things that I’ve escaped.” And she gave a little shiver at the thought. “There are a great many things I have to tell you. I’ve been having a pretty hard time since I went home—!”
“Well, we’ll talk them over tomorrow and get them out of the way. But don’t let’s spoil tonight with any shadow. You are tired. Just forget all the hard things and be happy. We’ll work everything out together after this, shall we?”
“That will be wonderful!” said Marigold. “Oh, God has been so good to me! You don’t realize—!”
“Don’t I? Well, perhaps you’d better let me tell you how good I think He has been to me. You don’t know how hard I worked on the way up here, trying to get you out of my thoughts, because I thought there was someone else ahead of me.”
“I’d better tell you all about it right away,” said Marigold with sudden resolve. “Then you’ll know there’s nothing to worry about.”
“All right, if you feel you’d like to get it out of the way. But personally, since you’ve told me you love me, I’m trusting you all the way, and I’m not worrying about it anymore. If any other poor fish tries to barge in, I’ll take him out and whale him. But eat your supper first.”
So when they went back to the Pullman, Ethan turned their chairs so they could talk together quietly without being overheard, and Marigold told the story of her acquaintance with Laurie Trescott. But she found it to be astonishingly short after all, for the things she had thought important seemed all too trivial to waste many words upon when Ethan was so near, looking so strong and dependable. So when she reached the account of her last night and her terrible ride, she found it did not take long. Ethan, watching her quietly, caught more of the picture from the little shudder she gave as she described her terror and from the sudden darkening of her eyes than from the words she used. He had no trouble in filling in where she left description unfinished. He could see just what kind of a weak, attractive, selfish creature Laurie was.
“Now I know I will whale that fellow sometime!” he exclaimed as she finished. “Really whale him, I mean!” he added vehemently.