Barriers Burned Away

by Edward Payson Roe

  CHAPTER L

  EVERY BARRIER BURNED AWAY

  Dennis was glad to escape, and went to a side door where he could coolhis hot cheeks in the night air. He fairly dreaded to meet Christineagain, and, even where the wind blew cold upon him, his cheeks grewhotter and hotter, as he remembered what had occurred. He had beenthere but a little time when a light hand fell on his arm, and he wasstartled 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 anddisaster burden every heart, and I know it is a duty to try to maintaina cheerful courage, and forget personal troubles. I have tried to-day,and, with God's help, hope in time to succeed. While endeavoring towear in public a cheerful face, I may perhaps now, and to so true afriend as yourself, show more of my real feelings. Is it too far--wouldit take too long, to go to where my father died? His remains could nothave been removed."

  "Alas, Miss Ludolph," said Dennis, very gently, "there can be no visibleremains. The words of the Prayer Book are literally true in thiscase--'Ashes to ashes.' But I can take you to the spot, and it isnatural 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 ofthe way, for I have a little money." (Dr. Arten had insisted on hertaking some.) "Wait for me a moment."

  She soon reappeared with her shawl cut in two equal parts. One sheinsisted on folding and putting around him as a Scotsman wears hisplaid. "You will need it in the cool night wind," she said, and thenshe took his arm in perfect trust, and they started.

  In the cars she gave him her money, and he said, "I will return myfare to-morrow night."

  "What!" she replied, looking a little hurt. "After spending two dollarson 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 notunderstand my badinage this evening. If I had not spoken to you inthat strain, I could not have spoken at all. You have been a brotherto me, and we should not stand on these little things."

  "That is it," thought he again. "She looks upon and trusts me as abrother, 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 abrother, 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 mostcarefully around the hot ruins and heaps of rubbish till they came towhere the Art Building had stood. The moon shone brightly down, lightingup with weird and ghostly effect the few walls remaining. They wereutterly alone in the midst of a desolation sevenfold more impressingthan that of the desert. Pointing to the spot where, in the midst of histreasures of art and idolized worldly possessions, Mr. Ludolph hadperished, she said, in a thrilling whisper, "My father's ashes arethere."

  "Yes."

  Her breath came quick and short, and her face was so pale and agonizedthat he trembled for her, but he tightened his grasp on her hand, andhis tears fell with hers.

  "Oh, my father!" she cried, in a tone of unspeakable pathos, "can Inever, 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 afteryou! God forgive me if this is wrong, but I cannot help it!"

  "It is not wrong," said Dennis, brokenly. "Our Lord himself wept overthose He could not save."

  "It is all that I can do," she murmured, and, leaning her head on hisshoulder, 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, asshe became calmer, he added, "Remember that your great Elder Brotherhas 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 faceof a pitying angel. A low "Farewell!" trembled from her lips, sheleaned heavily on his arm, they turned away, and seemingly the curtainfell between father and child to rise no more.

  "Mr. Fleet," she said, pleadingly, "are you too tired to take me tomy old home on the north side?"

  "Miss Ludolph, I could go to the ends of the earth for you, but youare not equal to this strain upon your feelings. Have mercy onyourself."

  But she said, in a low, dreamy tone: "I wish to take leave to-nightof my old life--the strange, sad past with its mystery of evil; andthen I shall set my face resolutely toward a better life--a bettercountry. So bear with me, my true, kind friend, a little longer."

  "Believe me, my thought was all for you. All sense of fatigue haspassed away."

  Silently they made their way, till they stood where, a few short daysbefore, had been the elegant home that was full of sad and painfulmemories to both.

  "There was my studio," she said in the same dreamy tone, "where Iindulged in my wild, ambitious dreams, and sought to grasp a littlefading circlet of laurel, while ignoring a heavenly and an immortalcrown. There," she continued, her pale face becoming crimson, even inthe white moonlight, "I most painfully wronged you, my most generous,forgiving friend, and a noble revenge you took when you saved my lifeand led me to a Saviour. May God reward you; but I humbly ask yourpardon--"

  "Please, Miss Ludolph, do not speak of that. I have buried it all. Donot pain yourself by recalling that which I have forgiven and almostforgotten. You are now my ideal of all that is noble and good, and inmy solitary artist life of the future you shall be my gentle yet potentinspiration."

  "Why must your life be solitary in the future?" she asked, in a lowtone.

  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 tellingyou 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 thebitter struggle within--the severest he had ever known; but at lasthe spoke in the firm and quiet voice of victory. She had called himbrother, and trusted him as such. She had ventured out alone on asacred mission with him, as she might with a brother. She was dependenton him, and burdened by a feeling of obligation. His high sense ofhonor forbade that he should urge his suit under such circumstances.If she could not accept, how painful beyond words would be the necessityof refusal, and the impression had become almost fixed in his mindthat her regard for him was only sisterly and grateful in its character.

  "Yes, Miss Ludolph," he said, "my silence is the part of truefriendship--truer than you can ever know. May Heaven's richest blessingsgo with you to your own land, and follow you through a long, happylife."

  "My own land? This is my own land."

  "Do you not intend to go abroad at once, and enter upon your ancestralestates 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 formerhome. It belongs to my old life, of which I have forever taken leaveto-night. My ancestral estate in Germany is but a petty affair, andmortgaged 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 onetime my own, to restore the ancient grandeur of the family with thewealth acquired in this land. The plan lost its charms for me longago--I would not have gone if I could have helped it--and now it isimpossible. It has perished in flame and smoke. Mr. Fleet, you seebefore you a simple American girl. I claim and wish to be known in noother character. If nothing remains of my father's fortune I shallteach either music or painting--"

  "Oh, Christine!" he interrupted, "forgive me for speaking to yo
u underthe 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, steadygaze when before he pleaded for her love near that same spot, but herhand trembled in his like a fluttering, frightened bird. In a low,eager tone she said, "And can you still truly love me after all theshameful past?"

  "When have I ceased to love you?"

  With a little cry of ecstasy, like the note of joy that a weary birdmight 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 joininghands that shall build a fairer and better one, because filled withthat which only makes a home--love.

  What though all around are only dreary ruins, where the night wind issighing mournfully? Love has transformed that desert place into theparadise of God; and, if such is its power in the wastes of earthlydesolation, 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 isa grander one than any of earth. She is allied to a noble, but to onewho has received his patent from no petty sovereign of this world. Shehas lost sight of the transient laurel wreath which she sought to graspat such cost to herself and others, in view of the "crown of glorythat 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 beginher married life. But she is climbing the mountain at her husband'sside, and often her hands steady and help him. The ash-tree, twinedwith the passion-flower, is not very far above them, and the villa,beautiful within and without, is no vain dream of the future. But evenin happy youth their eyes of faith see in airy, golden outline theirheavenly home awaiting them.