The City of Fire

G >> Grace Livingston Hill >> The City of Fire

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

So she sat and played at her dear organ, played sweet and tender hymns.
Played gentle, pleading, throbbing themes that almost spoke their words
out, as she saw Elder Harricutt leading his file of elders into the
session room which was just behind the organ. She knew that in all
probability there was to be a time of trial for her father, and that
some poor soul would be mauled over and ground up in the mill of
criticism, or else some of her father's dearest plans were to be held
up for an unsympathetic discussion. She thanked God for the strong
homely face of Elder Duncannon as he stalked behind the rest with a
look of uplift on his worn countenance, and she played on softly
through another hymn, until suddenly somehow, she became aware that the
two strangers on the parsonage porch had left their rockers and were
coming slowly across the lawn. The woman's hard silvery laugh rang out
and jabbed into the tender hymn she was playing, and she stopped short
in the middle of a phrase, as if the poor thing had been killed
instantly. The organ seemed to hold its breath, and the sudden silence
almost made the little church tremble.

She sat tense, listening, her fingers spread toward the stops to push
them in and close the organ and be gone before they arrived if they
contemplated coming in, for she had no mind to talk to them just now.
Then coldly, harshly out from the cessation of great sound came Elder
Harricutt's voice:

"But Brother Severn, supposing that it turns out that Mark Carter is a
murderer! You surely would not approve of keeping his name on the
church roll then, would you? It seems to me that in order to keep the
garments of the bride of Christ clean from soil we should anticipate
such a happening and show the world that we recognize the character of
this young man, and that we do not countenance such doings as she has
been guilty of. Now, last night, it is positively stated that he and
this person they call Cherry Penning were at the Blue Duck--!"

_Crash!_ The bells!

Lynn had heard so much through the open session-room door, had turned a
quick frightened glance and caught the glimpse of two people coming
slowly in at the open door of the church peering at her, had made one
quick motion which released the bells, and dashed into the first notes
that came to her mind, the old hymn, "Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me, Let
Me Hide Myself in Thee!" But instead of playing it tenderly, grandly,
as she usually did, with all the sweetness of the years in which saints
and sinners have sung it and found refuge and comfort in its noble
lines, she plunged into it with a mad rush as if a soul in mortal peril
were rushing to the Refuge before the gates should be forever closed,
or before the enemy should snatch it from the haven. The first note
boomed forth so sharply, so suddenly, that Elder Harricutt jumped
visibly from his chair, and his gossipy little details were drowned in
the great tone that struck. Behind his hand, the troubled minister
smiled in spite of his worries, to think of the brave young soul behind
those bells defending her own.

Down the aisle just under the tower Opal Verrons paused for an instant
startled, thinking of prison walls, and of the dead man lying at
Saybrook Inn that night. Suddenly the words of the telegram flashed
across her: "What disposition do you want made of the body?" The body!
The _body!_ Oh! Her eyes grew wide with horror. She ought to
answer that telegram and give them his home address. But why should
she? What had she to do with him now? Dead. He was _Dead_. He had
passed to another world. She shuddered. She looked around and shrank
back toward Shafton, but Laurie was wrapt in the vision of Saint
Cecilia seated at the organ under the single electric light that the
janitor had left burning over her head. She resembled a saint with a
halo more than ever, and his easily excited senses were off chasing
this new flower of fancy.

Behind the organ pipes the session sat with the reputation of a man in
their ruthless fingers, tossing it back and forth, and deliberating
upon their own damning phrases, while the minister sat with stern white
face, and sought to hold them from taking an action that might brand a
human soul forever. Marilyn needed no more than those harsh words to
know that her friend of the years was being weighed in the balance.

Many a Sabbath afternoon in his childhood had Mark Carter spent with
her playing the stone block play of David and Jonathan, and then eaten
bread and milk and apple sauce and sponge cake with her and heard the
evening prayers and songs and said good-night with a sweet look of the
Heavenly Father's child on his handsome little face. Many a time as an
older boy had he sung hymns with her and listened to her read the
Bible, and talked it over with her afterward. He had not been like that
when she went away. Could he so have changed? And Cherry Fenner! The
little girl who had been but ten years old when she went away to
college, Cherry a precocious little daughter of a tailor in Economy,
who came over to take music lessons from her. Cherry at the Blue Duck!
And with Mark! Could it be true? It could not be true! Not in the sense
that Mr. Harricutt was trying to make out. Mark might have been there,
but never to do wrong. The Blue Duck was a dance hall where liquor was
sold on the quiet, and where unspeakable things happened every little
while. Oh, it was outrageous! Her fingers made the bells crash out her
horror and disgust, and her appeal to a higher power to right this
dreadful wrong. And then a hopeless sick feeling came over her, a
whirling dizzy sensation as if she were going to faint, although she
never fainted. She longed to drop down upon the keys and wail her heart
out, but she might not. Those awful words or more like them were going
on behind the organ there, and the door was open--or even if the door
was not open they could be heard, for the room behind the organ was
only screened by a heavy curtain! Those two strangers must not hear! At
all costs they must not hear a thing like this! They did not know Mark
Carter of course, but at any rate they must not hear! It was like
having him exposed in the public square for insult. So she played on,
growing steadier, and more controlled. If only she could know the rest!
Or if only she might steal away then, and lie down and bear it alone
for a little! So this was what had given her father such a white drawn
look during his sermon! She had seen that hard old man go across the
lawn to meet him, and this was what he was bringing her father to bear!

But the music itself and the words of the grand old hymns she was
playing gradually crept into her soul and helped her, so that when the
lame stranger made at last his slow progress up to the choir loft and
stood beside her she was able to be coolly polite and explain briefly
to him how the organ controlled the action of the bells.

He listened to her, standing in open admiration, his handsome careless
face with its unmistakable look of self indulgence was lighted up with
genuine admiration for the beautiful girl who could play so well, and
could talk equally well about her instrument, quite as if it were
nothing at all out of the ordinary run of things that she were doing.

Opal, sitting in the front pew, where she had dropped to wait till her
escort should be satisfied, watched him at first discontentedly,
turning her eyes to the girl, half wondering, half sneering, till all
at once she perceived that the girl was not hearing the hot words of
admiration poured upon her, was not impressed in the least by the man,
did not even seem to know who he was--or care. How strange. What a very
strange girl! And really a beautiful girl, too, she saw, now that her
natural jealousy was for the moment averted. How extremely amusing.
Laurie Shafton interested in a girl who didn't care a row of pins about
him. What a shouting joke! She must take it back to his friends at the
shore, who would kid him unmercifully about it. The thing had never
been known in his life before. Perhaps, too, she would amuse herself a
little, just as a pastime, by opening the eyes of this village maiden
to the opportunity she was missing? Why not? Just on the verge of his
departure perhaps.

And now, with tender touch, the music grew softer and dropped into the
sorrowful melody:

"The mistakes of my life have been many,
The sins of my heart have been more,
But I come as He has bidden.
And enter the open door.
I know I am weak and sinful,
It comes to me more and more
But since the dear Saviour has bid me come in
I'll enter the open door."

It was one of the songs they used to sing together, Mark and she, on
Sunday afternoons just as the sun was dropping behind the western
mountain, and Marilyn played it till the bells seemed to echo out a
heart's repentance, and a great forgiveness to one far, far away.

At its first note the song was recognized by Mark Carter as he drove
along through the night and it thrilled him to his sad sick soul. It
was as if she had spoken to him, had swept his heart strings with her
white fingers, had given him her sweet wistful smile, and was calling
to him through the dark. As they came in sight of the church Billy
pulled his cap a little lower and tried to keep the choke out of his
throat. Somehow the long hours without sleep or food, the toil, the
anxiety, the reaction, had suddenly culminated in a great desire to
cry. Yes, _cry_ just like a baby! Why, even when he was a baby he
didn't cry, and now here was this sickening gag in his throat, this
smarting in his eyelids, this sinking feeling. He cast an eye at Cart.
Why, Cart looked that way too. Cart was feeling it also. Then he wasn't
ashamed. He gulped and smudged his dirty hand across his smarting eyes,
and got a long streak of wet on the back of his hand which he hastily
dried on the side of his sweater, and so they sat, two still dark
figures travelling along quietly through the night, for Carter had shut
off the engine and let the natural incline of the road carry them down
almost in front of the church.

When they reached the church they saw a figure standing with a lifted
hand. The janitor, ordered by Harricutt to keep a watch.

The car stopped at once.

"Mark, they're wantin' ye in there," he said with a flirt of his thumb
over his shoulder and a furtive glance behind, "Keep yer eyes peeled,
fer old Cutter-up is bossin' the job, an' _you know him!"_

Billy sat up and took notice.

Mark got out with a grave old look upon his face, and started up the
walk. Billy made a move to follow, hesitated, drew back, held himself
in readiness and watched, all his boy instincts and prejudices keen on
the trail again.

And so to the old sad song of his mistakes and sins Mark entered the
door of the sessions room where once he and Marilyn had gone one happy
summer morning to meet the session and confess their faith in Christ.

As he had passed the window by the organ loft he gave one look up where
Lynn's face was framed in the ivy of the window under the light. He
drank in the sight hungrily. But the next instant he caught the vision
of the young stranger standing with admiring eyes, saw Marilyn turn and
look up and answer him, but could not see how far away and sad her
eyes.

And with this shadow upon his heart he passed in to that waiting group
of hard critical men, with the white faced minister in their midst, and
stood to meet their challenge.

XI

The janitor had gone in to put the church in order for the night and
hover about to find out what was going on in the session room. He never
told but he liked to know. The moon had gone under a cloud. Billy
slipped out of the car, and slid up the side path like a wraith, his
tired legs seeming to gather new vigor with the need. He gave a glance
of content up to the window. He was glad the bells were ringing, and
that _she_ was there. He wished she knew what peril their friend
had been in last night, and how he was rescued and safe.

And then _he_ sighted the stranger!

_Who_ was that guy! Some sissy, that was sure! Aw _gee!_

He slid into the shadow out of sight and flattened himself against the
wall with an attentive ear to the door of the session room. He raised
himself by chinning up to the window ledge and got a bird's eye view of
the situation at a glance. Aw Gee! That old Hair-cut! He wished the
bells would stop. That sissy in there with _her_, and all these
here with Cart, and no telling what's up next? Aw _gee!_ Life was
jest one--! He slumped his back to the wall and faced the parsonage.
Say, what were those two cars over there in front of the parsonage?
_Say!_ That must be the guy, the rich guy! Aw gee! In there with
_her!_ If he only hadn't put up that detour! Pat knew what he was
about after all, a little sissy guy like that--! _Aw, gee!_ But
_two_ cars! What did two cars mean?

And over on the parsonage piazza, at the far end in the shelter of the
vines sat Aunt Saxon in the dark crying. Beside her was Mrs. Severn
with her hand on the woman's shoulder talking in her gentle steady
voice. Everybody loved the minister's wife just as much as they loved
the minister:

"Yes, he went away on his wheel last night just after dark," she
sobbed. "Yes! he came home after the baseball game, and he made a great
fuss gettin' some paint and brushes and contrapshions fixed on his old
bicycle, and then he went off. Oh, he usually goes off awhile every
night. I can't seem to stop him. I've tried everything short of lockin'
him out. I reckon if I did he'd never come back, an' I can't seem to
bring myself to lock out my sister's baby--!"

"Of course not!" said Mrs. Severn tenderly.

"Well, he stuck his head back in the door this time, an' he said mebbe
he wouldn't be back till mornin', but he'd be back all right for Sunday
School. That's one thing, Mrs. Severn," she lifted her tear stained
face, "That's one thing he does like--his Sunday School, Billy does,
and I'm that glad! Sometimes I just sit down an' cry about it I'm so
glad. You know awhile back when Miss Lynn was off to college that Mr.
Harricutt had the boys' class, an' I couldn't get him to go anyhow.
Why, once I offered to pay him so he could save fer a baseball bat if
he'd go, but do you know he said he'd rather go without baseball bats
fer ever than go listen to that old--Well, Mrs. Severn, I won't repeat
what he said. It wasn't respectful, not to an elder you know. But Miss
Lynn, why he just worships, an' anything she says he does. But that's
one thing worries me, Mrs. Severn, he _didn't come back for her
even!_ He said he'd be back fer Sunday School, an' he hasn't come
back yet!"

"Who does he go with most, Miss Saxon? Let's try to think where he
might be. Perhaps we could call up some one and find out where he is."

"Well, I tell you," wailed the Aunt, "That's just it. There's just one
person he likes as well, or mebbe better'n Miss Mary Lynn, an' that's
Mark Carter! Mrs. Severn I'm just afraid he's gone off with Mark
Carter!" she lowered her voice to a sepulchral whisper, "And Mrs.
Severn, they do say that Mark is real _wild!"_

Mrs. Severn sat up a little straighter and put a trifle of assurance
into her voice, or was it aloofness?

"Oh, Miss Saxon!" she said earnestly, "I don't think you ought to feel
that way about Mark. I've known him since he was a mere baby, and I've
always loved him. I don't believe Mark will ever do Billy any harm.
He's a boy with a strong character. He may do things that people don't
understand, but I'd trust him to the limit!"

She was speaking eagerly, earnestly, in the words that her husband had
used to her a few days before, and she knew as she said it that she
believed it was all true. It gave her a great comfort to know that she
believed it was true. She loved Mark almost as though he were her own.

Miss Saxon looked up with a sigh and mopped her pink wet face.

"Well, I certainly am relieved to hear you say that! Billy thinks the
sun rises and sets in 'Cart,' as he calls him. I guess if Cart should
call him he'd go to the ends of the earth with him. I know _I_
couldn't stop him. But you see Mrs. Severn, I oughtn't to have to bring
up children, especially boys? Billy always was headstrong, and he's
getting worse every day."

"I'm sure you do your best, Miss Saxon, and I'm sure Billy will turn
out a fine man some day. My Lynn thinks a great deal of him. She feels
he's growing very thoughtful and manly."

"Does she now?" the tired pink face was lifted damply with a ray of
cheer.

Then the telephone bell rang. Mrs. Severn rose and excused herself to
answer it.

"Yes? Yes, Mrs. Carter. Mrs. Severn is speaking. Is anything the matter?
Your voice sounds troubled. Oh, Mrs. Carter! I'm so sorry, but I'm sure
you can trust Mark. He's a man you know and he's always been an
unusually dependable boy, especially to us who know him well. He'll
come back all right. What? Oh, Mrs. _Carter!_ No, I haven't heard any
such reports, but I'm sure they're just gossip. You know how people
will talk. What do you say? They phoned you from Economy? Who?
The police? They asked for Mark? Well, I wouldn't let that worry you.
Mark always was helpful to the police in finding people, or going with
them after a lost car, you know. I wouldn't worry. Who? Billy? Billy
Gaston? Oh, you saw Billy this, morning? Well, that's good. His aunt
has worried all day about him. I'll tell her. Who? A sick man on the
mountain? Well, now Mrs. Carter, don't you know Mark always was
doing things for people in trouble? He'll come home safely, but of
course we'll just turn the earth upside down to find him for we are
not going to let you and Miss Saxon worry any longer. Just you wait
till Mr. Severn gets back. He's in a session meeting and it oughtn't
to last long, it was just a special meeting called hurriedly. He'll come
right over as soon as it's out and see what he can do to help. Yes,
of course he will. No don't bother to thank me. He would want to
of course. Good-bye!"

She came hopefully out to the piazza, to Miss Saxon. But just at that
instant Billy's aunt jumped to her feet, her eyes large with
excitement, and pointed toward the open session door, where framed
against the light stood Mark Carter, straight and tall facing the
circle of men, and behind him, out in the dark, with only his swaggy
old sweater shoulder and the visor of his floppy old cap showing around
the door jamb lurked Billy.

"There! There!" Whispered Mrs. Severn, patting her shoulder. "I told
you he'd come back all right. Now, don't you worry about it, and don't
you scold him. Just go home and get him some supper. He'll be likely
very hungry, and then get him to go right to bed. Wait till to-morrow
to settle up. Miss Saxon, it's always better, then we have clearer
judgment and are not nearly so likely to lose our tempers and say the
wrong thing."

The bells had stopped ringing, and Marilyn had closed the organ and
drawn the window shut. The two strangers were trailing slowly across
the lawn, the lady laughing loudly. Miss Saxon eyed them with the kind
of fascination a wild rabbit has for a strange dog, pressed the hand of
the minister's wife with a fervent little squeeze, and scurried away
into the dark street. Marilyn lingered silently on the front steps
after the janitor had locked the door inside and gone back to the
session room.

In the session room Mark Carter, white with the experiences of the
night and day, yet alert, stern, questioning, stood looking from one
man to another, keenly, uncompromisingly. This was a man whom any would
notice in a crowd. Character, physical perfection, strength of will all
combined to make him stand out from other men. And over it all, like a
fire from within there played an overwhelming sadness that had a
transparent kind of refining effect, as if a spirit dwelt there who by
sheer force of will went on in the face of utter hopelessness.

The stillness in the session room was tense as the self appointed jury
faced their victim and tried to look him down; then slowly recognized
something that made them uneasy, and one by one each pair of eyes save
two, were vanquished and turned embarrassedly away, or sought the
pattern of the mossy carpet.

Those two pairs of eyes that were friendly Mark found out at once, and
it was as if he embraced them with his own. His friends--Duncannon and
the minister! He shot a grateful glance at them and faced the others
down, but opened not his lips.

At last Harricutt, his chief accuser, mustered up his sharp little eyes
again from under the overhanging eaves of rough gray brow, and shot out
a disagreeable under lip:

"We have sent for you, here, to-night, Mark Carter," he began slowly,
impressively, raising a loose jointed long forefinger accusingly, as he
gained courage, "to inquire concerning the incriminating reports that
are in circulation with regard to your character."

Mark turned his hard eyes toward the elder, and seemed to congeal into
something inflexible, impenetrable, as if he had suddenly let down a
cold sheet iron door between his soul and them, against which the
words, like shot or pebbles, rattled sharp and unharming and fell in a
shower at the feet of the speaker. There was something about his
bearing that became a prince or president, and always made a fault
finder feel small and inadequate. The minister felt his heart throb
with a thrill of pride in the boy as he stood there just with his
presence hurling back the suspicions that had met to undo him. His
stern young face was like a mask of something that had once been
beautiful with life, whose utter sorrow and hopelessness pierced one at
the sight. And so he stood and looked at Elder Harricutt, who shot him
one glance and then looking down began to fiddle with his watch chain,
halting in his speech:

"They say--" he began again with a hiss, as he lifted his eyes, strong
in the consciousness that he was not alone in his accusation,--"They
_say_--!"

"Please leave what they say out of the question, Mr. Harricutt. What do
_you_ say?" Mark's voice was cold, incisive, there was nothing
quailing in his tone.

"Young man, we can't leave what they say out of the question! It plays
a very important part in the reputation of the Church of Christ of
which you are an unworthy part," shot back the hard old man, "We are
here to know what you have to say concerning the things that are being
said openly about you."

"A man does not always know what is being said about him, Mr.
Harricutt." Still that hard cold voice, still indifferent to the main
issue, and ready to fight it.

"A man ought to!" snapped Harricutt impatiently.

Suddenly, without warning, the mask lifted, the curve of the lips drew
up at the left corner revealing the row of even white teeth, and a
twinkle at the corners of the gray, thoughtful eyes, giving in a flash
a vision of the merry mischief-loving boy he had been, and his whole
countenance was lit. Mark was never so attractive as when smiling. It
brought out the lovingness of his eyes, and took away the hard oldness
of his finely cut features.

"Mr. Harricutt, I have often wondered if _you_ knew all that
people say about _you?"_

_"WHAT?"_

There was sudden stir in the session room. The elders moved their
chairs with a swishing sound, cleared their throats hastily, and put
sudden hands up to hide furtive smiles. Elder Duncannon grinned
broadly, there was a twinkle in even the minister's eyes, and outside
the door Billy manfully stifled a snicker. Elder Harricutt shot his
angry little eyes around in the mirthful atmosphere, starting at Mark's
quizzical smile, and going around the uneasy group of men, back to Mark
again. But the smile was gone! One could hardly be sure it had been
there at all. Mark was hard cold steel again, a blank wall,
impenetrable. There was no sign that the young man intended to repeat
the mocking offense.

"Young man! This is no time for levity!" he roared forth menacingly.
"You are on the verge of being arrested for murder. Did you know it?"

The minister watching, thought he saw a quiver go through the steady
eyes, a slight contracting of the pupil, a hardening of the sensitive
mouth, that was all. The boy stood unflinching, and spoke with steady
lips:

"I did not."

"Well, you are!" reiterated the elder, "And even if the man doesn't
die, there is plenty else. Answer me this question. It's no use beating
around the bush. Where were you at three o'clock this morning?"

The answer came without hesitation, steadily, frankly:

"On Stark's Mountain, as nearly as I can make out."

Billy held his breath and wondered what was coming next. He caught his
hands on the window ledge and chinned himself again, his eyes and the
fringe of his dishevelled brown hair appearing above the window sill,
but the startled session was not looking out the window just then. Mr.
Harricutt looked slightly put out. Stark's Mountain had nothing to do
with this matter, and the young man was probably trying to prove an
alibi. He sat up jerkily and placed his elbows on the chair arms,
touching the tips of his long bony fingers, fitting them together
carefully and speaking in aggravated detached syllables in rhythm with
the movement of his fingers.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23