Beauty for Ashes (25 page)

The moon had withdrawn, and the stars. A chilly wind was blowing up. There ought to be the road toward Afton, going up a hill, but hill and clouds and sky were all one.

Over there should be a drugstore, and they would have a telephone. But there was no light anywhere. Every house sound asleep! They would think she was crazy if she attempted to rouse anyone and ask for help or a chance to telephone. She could not forget Matilda Coulter and her field glasses. It suddenly came home to her what a heinous offense this all-night absence of hers would be considered in this old-fashioned town, and she shrank inexpressibly from meeting any such fire of criticism as there would surely be if this escapade of hers should become known. She shrank also from putting her two friends, Robert and Murray, into a trying situation. They would surely come in for part of any gossip because they had been so closely associated with her and her sister during the last few weeks. Meetings everywhere! It would be what Robert would call a “bad witness.” She shut her lips firmly. Never, for her sake, should he have to go through anything like that. This was her own affair. She must get herself out of it the best way she could! Perhaps it would soon be dawn. She must get back to Afton before that happened, get inside the house where no one could see her. A sudden panic seized her. How long would it take to walk?

She had thought vaguely of a taxi. She had come in a taxi when she first arrived. But the place was as bare of taxis as it was of lights. There was nothing but her two feet to carry her back. And there was always the fear that Zane might have followed her in that car that was a wizard for flight, and that he might overtake her before she reached safety.

She stepped down from the platform and set her foot firmly on the road. She must cross the highway here. Yes, here was a sidewalk. There to the left was the drugstore. She could catch the luminous glow in one of the red bottles that stood inside the window. Only a glow, a glimmer, and then it was all gone again. On the right was the post office. Yes, the sidewalk turned here. Farther on it would stop and one had to walk in the road. Then it was still a long way ahead to Robert’s cornfield.

She hurried on, walking on the grass at the side rather than the pavement, not daring to let her footsteps be heard lest someone should put an inquisitive head out of a window.

It seemed a curious silent village, like a dead place. Not even the cry of a sick child to break the stillness. Overhead a bird stirred in the branches and uttered a sleepy chirp. The sound of it made her heart stand still. Off in the distance, the hoot of an owl fairly frightened her. How silly she was! She had never been afraid before.

All along the way were little soft stirrings and whisperings of leaves and night creatures. Beyond the village, when she stepped into the road there were the crickets again and soft gray moths flying about her. One struck her in the face and left her trembling. She began to cry softly, she was so very tired and hungry. Vanna Sutherland crying! And she was almost home, too, almost out of her trouble.

Or was she? She had yet to explain. She shivered and tried to think how she was going to do it, but her mind wouldn’t work.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, “Oh, Robert’s God! Won’t you help me? I’m so very tired!”

It was only five miles. She ought not to mind walking that even if she was tired and hungry and a little afraid, for she had done it on the golf course hundreds of times. But the way seemed interminable, and she wasn’t just sure she was on the right road either. If only it weren’t so terribly dark!

She tried to brace herself by the memory of whose daughter she was! Of all the proud tales of bravery that belonged in her family. Of the grandmother whom she had never seen and the long line of pioneer puritan ancestors. She tried to take proud steps forward, telling herself she was not afraid. She, Vanna Sutherland, had always been able to dominate any situation, and she would still do it. A little thing like having to walk a lonely road five miles in the dark was nothing! Then she remembered that she had not been able to dominate Emory Zane that afternoon, and perhaps back of that there was something wrong, some reason why she had failed. She searched around in her mind and found shame lying there. She was ashamed—that was it. It wasn’t just that she had to walk through a woods at the dead of night alone. It wasn’t that she was tired and hungry and angry. It was that she had done the thing that had brought her into this strait. As she looked back now, she knew in her deepest heart that she had known all the time that with her standards, merely her own worldly standards that she had worked out by herself, she never should have had anything to do with Emory Zane. She knew it was playing with fire, and she had knowingly gone on and played, sure that she could control the fire before there would be any danger.

It wasn’t anything the world would count as wrong that she had done, just silly prideful things that did not savor of the finest and best—and she had been learning of late to count these more important than any earthly values. But she felt the sin of her human pride keenly now in this awful night alone, and she hated to think of having to face the truth in the clear glance of Robert Carroll. Oh, it didn’t matter whether she told him about it in words or not; he would know. He had eyes that could see, and she dreaded to find that hurt, disappointed look in them when she met him. It would be there. It would surely be there. It was something, she imagined, like the eyes of God at the judgment, in lesser degree perhaps.

Suddenly, out of the darkness of the sky, a shiver of lightning rent across the sky, and a low rumble of thunder followed. Was she going to have to face a thunderstorm with all the rest?

She hurried on, breathless. The lightning had showed looming darkness ahead, and another flash showed it still more clearly. That was woods, and she must pass there. Perhaps she would be caught in the storm under those tall trees, and trees she knew were dangerous in an electric storm.

She put her head down and began to run, and the lightning came up like some great bright monster and slithered across the sky above her, chasing her into cover.

She gained the woods, and the thunder rolled ominously. She stumbled on breathlessly to get out from under the trees before the storm would break, and when she came to the open road again, she staggered to the side of the road and sat down to rest. It seemed as though she could not go on another step. One heel had torn loose from her silly little shoe, and every step onward was painful. Presently the shoe itself came off as she hurried on again, and was lost in the darkness. She felt around in the road for it, sobbing softly, though she was hardly away of it, but it evaded her. Even when another long sheet of lightning lit up the sky again, her eyes searched in vain for the shoe. She must go on without it!

She hurried forward, the stones hurting her unclad foot. She reached down and took off the other shoe, but that only put both feet at the mercy of the stones. She went back a step or two to try to find the lost shoe again but saw no sign of it, and the thunder sounded nearer now—long, low rumbles. The wind was blowing fiercely, and the trees were twisting and writhing like human forms against the hurtling, battled clouds whenever the lightning came to show them. Strange that such a storm should come up after such a glorious sunset! Yet the night had been ages long. Perhaps it wasn’t the same night. Perhaps she was delirious somewhere in a hospital, and not really walking stocking-footed in a strange, dark road at night. Miles she had come. Would she never get there? “God! God! Robert’s God! Robert Carroll loves You, God! He believes You can do anything!”

She was talking out loud to herself. There were large, cold drops falling now, far apart and very sharp as they splashed into her face. They looked like diamonds as the lightning played with them intermittently. She drew the burlap over her had and crouched as she ran breathlessly on.

She must be coming to Robert Carroll’s cornfield pretty soon. That wasn’t so far beyond the woods, she remembered. What if she should be struck by lightning, fall somewhere near his gateway, and in the morning somebody would find her lying there dead! What terrible things could be said! What unspeakable things could happen! Perhaps Robert or somebody else could be charged with murder, and she not there to prove it wasn’t so!

Wild, insane thoughts these were. She recognized it even as they flashed through her tired brain. But crazy or not, she must get away from here. Not a breath must ever touch Robert on her account. Yes, there was his gateway up ahead, and beyond was the top of this little rise in the road. When she reached the top, it would be downhill for a little while and not such hard going. Her feet were paining her terribly, and there was a cut in the sole of one stocking that put her foot right out on the ground. But what matter! Many people had to go barefoot—why not she? She tried to be stoic but only succeeded in giving a little sad sob.

And then, almost opposite that gate that she was hurrying away from so fast, a light suddenly stabbed her in the eyes, two great red eyes of light that picked her out in the road and made every line of her sad, young figure, every thread of her burlap attire, every nerve in her body it seemed, visible to the world. She stood petrified for an instant just where it had caught her. Then suddenly she sprang into action.

That was a car! That might be Emory Zane. He had come back and been to the house and, not finding her, had come out to search again! Well, he might have more human kindness in his nature than she had given him credit for, but he should not find her if she could help it. Never willingly would she look upon his hateful face again. She would rather never get home than have him take her there.

She darted to the right, away form Robert Carroll’s gateway, straight into the shadow, creeping stealthily thought the darkness, edging herself hurriedly into a great clump of elderberry bushes taller than her head, and drawing the burlap about her, even over her face. She stood so in the driving rain and waited breathless.

“Oh, God! Robert’s God!” she prayed, and held her breath to listen!

R
obert Carroll had had no very definite plan when he left the Sutherland house and insisted to his friend Murray that he must go home, except that he wanted to get by himself and pray. He had a vague feeling that there still might be something further he could do that night to find the girl who had grown so dear to him.

But he had wanted to be alone, to look into the face of God and listen to his heavenly Father speaking through this sorrow that had come. He wanted to be alone when he took from his Father’s hand the cup of bitterness that seemed to be his. His heart was crying out for his beloved in spite of himself, and he knew that he must be alone and quiet in order to have it stilled and that it might be centered again in Christ.

One question kept recurring to him. Why had he been given this great burden for her soul if the Lord did not desire to use him in her salvation? Well, that was something only the Lord could deal with. He could not force her to accept Christ, and if she did not, he knew his way was clear before him.

As he drove along now, he began to pray that no matter how much it meant of crucifixion to himself, Vanna herself might be saved.

“Just that, dear Lord,” he prayed, “and show me beyond the shadow of a doubt what to do. But, oh, dear Lord, bring her back home safely!”

It was then he topped the hill and his lights shot out their two long bright rays and picked her out as she stood in the road, frightened, weeping, ready to drop.

He knew her at once, and his heart leaped up. God had answered a part of his prayer at least. It startled him to have the answer come so quickly, even though he was used to receiving startling answers to his prayers.

His car shot forward and came to a stop just where he had seen her standing. He looked all about and strained his eyes, but he could see no sign of her. Had it been a mirage, a sort of vision? He was overwrought, he knew, and weary beyond expression. Such things had been known, visions that were purely imagination.

But this had been so plain! He could not just go on and drive into his own gateway, ignore it utterly. He must be
sure
.

He stepped out and stood on the running board of his car shading his eyes, but there was nothing stirring anywhere except the raindrops falling sharp aslant and pattering on the maple leaves of the trees with which the road was lined.

Vanna had been terrified beyond degree when the car slowed up and stopped opposite her. Her tired brain was sure it was Emory Zane. By the time she had sunk to her knees on the wet ground, she was shaking with fear.

“Oh, God,” her heart cried out, “if you won’t help me for Robert’s sake, do it for Jesus’ sake! Robert says He died for me. I’m not worth it, but I’ll try to be!”

“Vanna!” called Robert softly. “Vanna!” his voice growing clearer. “Oh, Vanna! Where are you?”

There was anguish in his tone, and Vanna’s spirit leaped up to answer the cry. It was Robert!
He
was hunting for her!

“Here! Here!” she sobbed, limping out from her bushes, stumbling over the ditch by the roadside, scrambling and falling into the road.

He was beside her in an instant, stooping to pick her up.

“Oh, my darling!” he said as he lifted her tenderly. “My darling! My precious love!”

He put his face down to hers that was wet with tears and rain, and there in the rain for just an instant he held her close and she lay breathless in wonder. It seemed as if a little sanctuary had suddenly enclosed them, shutting out the elements, shutting them in together.

Then he came to himself and rushed her to the car, pulling off her dripping hat and wet burlap and casting them into the back of the car, taking off his own coat and wrapping it about her.

“Thank God, I have found you!” he said. It was as if his soul were talking to itself and he did not know that he was speaking aloud.

Then Vanna summoned her voice. “I spoke to your God,” she said awesomely. “I asked Him to help me for Jesus’ sake, because I thought if He died for me, He must care enough, and then right away you were here!”