EVERY BARRIER BURNED AWAY
Dennis was glad to escape, and went to a side door where he could cool
his hot cheeks in the night air. He fairly dreaded to meet Christine
again, and, even where the wind blew cold upon him, his cheeks grew
hotter and hotter, as he remembered what had occurred. He had been
there but a little time when a light hand fell on his arm, and he was
startled by her voice--"Mr. Fleet, are you very tired?"
"Not in the least," he answered, eagerly.
"You must be: it is wrong for me to think of it."
"Miss Ludolph, please tell me what I can do for you?"
She looked at him wistfully and said: "This is a time when loss and
disaster burden every heart, and I know it is a duty to try to maintain
a cheerful courage, and forget personal troubles. I have tried to-day,
and, with God's help, hope in time to succeed. While endeavoring to
wear in public a cheerful face, I may perhaps now, and to so true a
friend as yourself, show more of my real feelings. Is it too far--would
it take too long, to go to where my father died? His remains could not
have been removed."
"Alas, Miss Ludolph," said Dennis, very gently, "there can be no visible
remains. The words of the Prayer Book are literally true in this
case--'Ashes to ashes.' But I can take you to the spot, and it is
natural that you should wish to go. Are you equal to the fatigue?"
"I shall not feel it if you go with me, and then we can ride part of
the way, for I have a little money." (Dr. Arten had insisted on her
taking some.) "Wait for me a moment."
She soon reappeared with her shawl cut in two equal parts. One she
insisted on folding and putting around him as a Scotsman wears his
plaid. "You will need it in the cool night wind," she said, and then
she took his arm in perfect trust, and they started.
In the cars she gave him her money, and he said, "I will return my
fare to-morrow night."
"What!" she replied, looking a little hurt. "After spending two dollars
on me, will you not take five cents in return?"
"But I spent it foolishly."
"You spent it like a generous man. Surely, Mr. Fleet, you did not
understand my badinage this evening. If I had not spoken to you in
that strain, I could not have spoken at all. You have been a brother
to me, and we should not stand on these little things."
"That is it," thought he again. "She looks upon and trusts me as a
brother, and such I must try to be till she departs for her own land;
yet if she knew the agony of the effort she would scarcely ask it."
But as they left the car, he said, "All that you would ask from a
brother, please ask from me."
She put her hand in his, and said, "I now ask your support, sympathy,
and prayer, for I feel that I shall need all here."
Still retaining her hand, he placed it on his arm and guided her most
carefully around the hot ruins and heaps of rubbish till they came to
where the Art Building had stood. The moon shone brightly down, lighting
up with weird and ghostly effect the few walls remaining. They were
utterly alone in the midst of a desolation sevenfold more impressing
than that of the desert. Pointing to the spot where, in the midst of his
treasures of art and idolized worldly possessions, Mr. Ludolph had
perished, she said, in a thrilling whisper, "My father's ashes are
there."
"Yes."
Her breath came quick and short, and her face was so pale and agonized
that he trembled for her, but he tightened his grasp on her hand, and
his tears fell with hers.
"Oh, my father!" she cried, in a tone of unspeakable pathos, "can I
never, never see you again? Can I never tell you of the love of Jesus,
and the better and happier life beyond? Oh, how my heart yearns after
you! God forgive me if this is wrong, but I cannot help it!"
"It is not wrong," said Dennis, brokenly. "Our Lord himself wept over
those He could not save."
"It is all that I can do," she murmured, and, leaning her head on his
shoulder, a tempest of sobs shook her person.
He supported her tenderly, and said, in accents of the deepest sympathy,
"Let every tear fall that will: they will do you good." At last, as
she became calmer, he added, "Remember that your great Elder Brother
has called the heavy laden to Him for rest."
At last she raised her head, turned, and gave one long parting look,
and, as Dennis saw her face in the white moonlight, it was the face
of a pitying angel. A low "Farewell!" trembled from her lips, she
leaned heavily on his arm, they turned away, and seemingly the curtain
fell between father and child to rise no more.
"Mr. Fleet," she said, pleadingly, "are you too tired to take me to
my old home on the north side?"
"Miss Ludolph, I could go to the ends of the earth for you, but you
are not equal to this strain upon your feelings. Have mercy on
yourself."
But she said, in a low, dreamy tone: "I wish to take leave to-night
of my old life--the strange, sad past with its mystery of evil; and
then I shall set my face resolutely toward a better life--a better
country. So bear with me, my true, kind friend, a little longer."
"Believe me, my thought was all for you. All sense of fatigue has
passed away."
Silently they made their way, till they stood where, a few short days
before, had been the elegant home that was full of sad and painful
memories to both.
"There was my studio," she said in the same dreamy tone, "where I
indulged in my wild, ambitious dreams, and sought to grasp a little
fading circlet of laurel, while ignoring a heavenly and an immortal
crown. There," she continued, her pale face becoming crimson, even in
the white moonlight, "I most painfully wronged you, my most generous,
forgiving friend, and a noble revenge you took when you saved my life
and led me to a Saviour. May God reward you; but I humbly ask your
pardon--"
"Please, Miss Ludolph, do not speak of that. I have buried it all. Do
not pain yourself by recalling that which I have forgiven and almost
forgotten. You are now my ideal of all that is noble and good, and in
my solitary artist life of the future you shall be my gentle yet potent
inspiration."
"Why must your life be solitary in the future?" she asked, in a low
tone.
He was very pale, and his arm trembled under her hand; at last he said,
in a hoarse voice, "Do not ask me. Why should I pain you by telling
you the truth?"
"Is it the part of a true friend to refuse confidence?" she asked,
reproachfully.
He turned his face away, that she might not see the evidences of the
bitter struggle within--the severest he had ever known; but at last
he spoke in the firm and quiet voice of victory. She had called him
brother, and trusted him as such. She had ventured out alone on a
sacred mission with him, as she might with a brother. She was dependent
on him, and burdened by a feeling of obligation. His high sense of
honor forbade that he should urge his suit under such circumstances.
If she could not accept, how painful beyond words would be the necessity
of refusal, and the impression had become almost fixed in his mind
that her regard for him was only sisterly and grateful in its character.
"Yes, Miss Ludolph," he said, "my silence is the part of true
friendship--truer than you can ever know. May Heaven's richest blessings
go with you to your own land, and follow you through a long, happy
life."
"My own land? This is my own land."
"Do you not intend to go abroad at once, and enter upon your ancestral
estates as the Baroness Ludolph?"
"Not if I can earn a livelihood in Chicago," she answered, most firmly.
"Mr. Fleet, all that nonsense has perished as utterly as this my former
home. It belongs to my old life, of which I have forever taken leave
to-night. My ancestral estate in Germany is but a petty affair, and
mortgaged beyond its real worth by my deceased uncle. All I possess,
all I value, is in this city. It was my father's ambition, and at one
time my own, to restore the ancient grandeur of the family with the
wealth acquired in this land. The plan lost its charms for me long
ago--I would not have gone if I could have helped it--and now it is
impossible. It has perished in flame and smoke. Mr. Fleet, you see
before you a simple American girl. I claim and wish to be known in no
other character. If nothing remains of my father's fortune I shall
teach either music or painting--"
"Oh, Christine!" he interrupted, "forgive me for speaking to you under
the circumstances, but indeed I cannot help it. Is there hope for me?"
She looked at him so earnestly as to remind him of her strange, steady
gaze when before he pleaded for her love near that same spot, but her
hand trembled in his like a fluttering, frightened bird. In a low,
eager tone she said, "And can you still truly love me after all the
shameful past?"
"When have I ceased to love you?"
With a little cry of ecstasy, like the note of joy that a weary bird
might utter as it flew to its mate, she put her arm around his neck,
buried her face on his shoulder, and said, "No _hope_ for you, Dennis,
but perfect _certainty,_ for now EVERY BARRIER IS BURNED AWAY!"
What though the home before them is a deserted ruin? Love is joining
hands that shall build a fairer and better one, because filled with
that which only makes a home--love.
What though all around are only dreary ruins, where the night wind is
sighing mournfully? Love has transformed that desert place into the
paradise of God; and, if such is its power in the wastes of earthly
desolation, what will be its might amid the perfect scenes of heaven?
Our story is finished.
It only remains to say that Christine stands high at court, but it is
a grander one than any of earth. She is allied to a noble, but to one
who has received his patent from no petty sovereign of this world. She
has lost sight of the transient laurel wreath which she sought to grasp
at such cost to herself and others, in view of the "crown of glory
that fadeth not away," and to this already, as an earnest Christian,
she has added starry jewels.
Below is the Ludolph Hall in which sturdy independence led her to begin
her married life. But she is climbing the mountain at her husband's
side, and often her hands steady and help him. The ash-tree, twined
with the passion-flower, is not very far above them, and the villa,
beautiful within and without, is no vain dream of the future. But even
in happy youth their eyes of faith see in airy, golden outline their
heavenly home awaiting them.