Louis Hildreth lay upon a couch in the cool library the morning after
his arrival at 'The Willows.' Evadne had been shocked at the change in
him since she had seen him last. His eyes were sunken, while underneath
purple shadows fell upon his pallid cheeks. He touched Evadne's hand as
she sat beside him. It was his hand!
"What a splendid fellow Randolph is!" he exclaimed suddenly. "He is
making himself felt in Marlborough, I tell you. Strange, how some men
forge their way to the front, while the rest of us just float down the
stream of mediocrity. No wonder we are not missed, when we drop out of
the babbling conglomerate of humanity into silence," he added bitterly.
"Who would miss a single pair of fins from amidst a shoal of herring!"
"I think it is because Doctor Randolph is not content to float, Louis,"
Evadne answered gently. "He must always be climbing higher. Like Paul,
he is 'pressing towards the mark.'"
"He is a grand fellow! And the beauty of it is he never seems to think
of himself at all. Most men would get to be top-lofty if they
accomplished as much as he does every day."
Evadne's lips parted in a happy smile. "I think Doctor Randolph is too
much occupied with Jesus to have time to waste upon himself."
"Upon my word, coz, you're a puzzle! You talk in an unknown tongue.
Don't you know Self is the god we worship, and the aim of our existence
is to have it wear purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every
day?"
"It should not be!" cried Evadne. "Oh Louis, dear Louis, life can never
be grand until we are able to say--'Self has been crucified with
Christ!'"
* * * * *
Weeks rolled into months and Louis was still at 'The Willows.' His
cynicism had come to have a strangely wistful ring. John Randolph's
visits were frequent and they held long conversations together, these
men, the one who had seized every opportunity and made the most of it,
the other who had let his golden chances slip through his fingers one by
one; then John Randolph would go bravely back to his life of toil, while
Louis listened to Evadne's sweet voice as she sang in the gloaming, or
watched his ring glisten as her deft fingers were busy with their deeds
of love.
"How do you do it?" he exclaimed one evening when they were alone
together. "You never rest! Your whole life seems to be centered in the
lives of others, and there is nothing attractive about them, if there
were I could understand. It looks like such drudgery to me. Tell me,
little coz, what makes you give up all your ease to make these people
happy?"
"When we love our Father it is our joy to do his will," she answered
softly.
"If I could live like you and Randolph I should be perfectly satisfied.
I wish I had the courage to try."
"Mere outward living cannot save us, Louis. Nothing can but faith in the
atoning blood and the name and the love of Christ. Then--when we
believe, you know--all things become possible. We make an awful mistake
when we think we know better than the Bible. Nicodemus lived a perfect
outward life, yet Christ said to him, 'Except ye be born again--of the
Word and the Spirit--ye cannot see the Kingdom of God.' We are running a
terrible risk when we try to live without Jesus."
"That is what Randolph says. He is a one idea man, if ever there was
one, and yet he is so many sided! He is the most uncompromising fellow
I ever knew. I should as soon expect to see the stars fall from the sky
as to see him do a shady thing. You would be amused, coz, to see the
lady mother and Isabelle joining forces to lay siege to his affections."
What meant that sudden start and then the blush which flamed up over
cheek and brow? Louis Hildreth closed his thin fingers over Evadne's
ring with a long drawn sigh. He was beginning to realize that a hand,
without a heart, is an empty thing.
Long after she had left him he lay motionless. This knowledge which had
come to him so suddenly had a bitter taste.
* * * * *
"You ought to get well, Hildreth, and you ought to be a very happy man,"
John Randolph spoke the words suddenly as he rose to take his leave.
"I never expect to be either. When a man has all he has prided himself
upon swept away from him, and all that he longs for denied him, how can
it be possible?"
"'Count it your highest good when God denies you.' Is that too hard a
gospel? We shall not read it so in the light of eternity. It is only
that Christ may become to us the 'altogether lovely' One."
"Did you ever love--a woman?" Louis put the question suddenly, watching
his friend's face with a jealous scrutiny.
"Yes." The answer was as simple and straightforward as the man. He knew
of nothing to be ashamed of in this beautiful love of his life.
"And her name was?--"
"Evadne."
John Randolph spoke the name for the first time to another, looking up
at the sky. When he turned to leave the room he saw that Louis' face was
buried among his cushions and he drove away in a great wonderment. What
could it all mean?
"Knocking, knocking, who is there?
Waiting, waiting, oh, how fair!
'T is a pilgrim, strange and kingly,
Never such was seen before.
Ah, my soul, for such a wonder,
Wilt thou not undo the door?"
Evadne sang the words softly in the twilight: sang them with a great
note of longing in her pleading voice. She and her cousin were alone.
"Evadne, come here."
She crossed the room and knelt beside his couch.
"Little coz, I have let the Pilgrim in."
And Evadne buried her face in the cushions with a low cry. The crown of
rejoicing was hers--at last!
* * * * *
"There is only one thing wanting between you two." Louis looked
wistfully at John Randolph and Evadne, as they stood beside him, talking
brightly of how he should help when he grew strong.
"And what is that?" Doctor Randolph asked the question with a smile.
Louis drew his ring from Evadne's finger and laid her hand in that of
his friend. "Take her, Randolph, she is worthy of you. I would not say
that of any other woman."
With a great joy surging in his heart, John Randolph held out his other
hand. She must give herself. He could not take her from another's
giving.
A lovely shyness flushed into the pure face, their eyes met, and Evadne
laid her hand in his without a word.
"Evadne!" The rich, tender tones fell throbbing through the silence,
enwrapping the name in a sweet protectiveness. "Life is--for us--to do
the will of God!"
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's A Beautiful Possibility, by Edith Ferguson Black