Sound of the Trumpet

by Grace Livingston Hill

  The people went out with seeming reluctance. They seemed to love the place and each other. But they were soon gone, and then John Sargent turned out the lights, locked the door, and they started out.

  “If you’ll just put me on a trolley or bus somewhere and tell me where to get off, I shall be all right,” said Lisle. “I hate to trouble you, and I’m really not afraid.”

  He smiled pleasantly.

  “Well, the trolleys and buses in this region are rather uncertain quantities. Perhaps we had better walk a little way till we find a taxi. I’ll be glad to go with you to your door if you don’t mind walking with a stranger.”

  “Why,” said Lisle with a little ripple of laughter, “you’re not a stranger, are you? I think we were introduced by Mrs. Gately one morning on the street when she was protesting about getting her imported dress spoiled. Wasn’t she too funny? But—” and her voice grew sweetly grave, “we have been seeing the face of Jesus together tonight and that makes us friends, doesn’t it?”

  “It does,” he answered solemnly, with a deep ring to his voice. “I’m glad you’re like that!”

  “But I’m not,” said Lisle thoughtfully. “At least I never was before tonight. I think I’ve you to thank for the vision I got tonight. I didn’t know there was teaching like that in the Bible.”

  “Well, I only discovered it myself a few weeks ago,” said the young man. “A fellow workman asked me to take his place here for a while as janitor because his wife was sick, and so I found the Lord.”

  “Why!” said Lisle. “That’s like my case. I had no idea when I came over to this part of the city to take the place of a Red Cross teacher who wasn’t feeling well that I was going to get caught in the dark and walk right into a place like this. It’s wonderful. And I wonder if I haven’t found the Lord, too. I never heard anybody talk the way you do. I’m a member of a church, of course, and my people have always been church people, but I really never heard anyone say that you could know the Lord the way that teacher said. The way you have said. There can’t be many people who know these things, or surely I would have heard of them.”

  “Well, I’ve found out that there are a good many, but of course there are a lot of the other kind. The ones who are so interested in the world and doing as everyone else is doing that even the war hasn’t waked them up yet.”

  Her heart warmed to that.

  “Are you doing something in the war?” she asked suddenly.

  “Well, not much yet,” said John, with regret in his voice. “I came home in my last year of college to take care of a dear old grandmother, who has practically worn herself out to help me, and now her life is hanging in the balance. I can’t go while she needs me, but it may be a matter of only a few days, or at most months, the doctor says. Of course, she doesn’t know there is a war on and we are in it, though she sensed it was coming some time ago. If she knew, she would want me to go at once, no matter how much she would miss me. But she is paralyzed and cannot talk. She can only press my hand, but I can see by her eyes that it means a great deal to her to have me there sometimes. I couldn’t go while she is that way, and so I am waiting.”

  “Of course,” said Lisle warmly, and she began to wonder if Victor would have done as much for his mother. Not if there were no glory in it, she was immediately sure. Oh, it was dreadful to have her onetime friend fall so far short of fineness and loyalty. And here she was comparing him unfavorably again with an utter stranger. And yet he wasn’t an utter stranger. He was a child of God, a saved person who had been seeing the same vision that she had seen tonight.

  “I think you are doing so right,” she said slowly, almost thinking aloud. “I wish I could do something for your grandmother. Who is caring for her while you are working?”

  “I have hired a practical nurse. She is a kindly elderly woman, very sincere. Grand is well cared for. Of course, her wants are few.”

  “Could I send her a few flowers now and then?” asked Lisle shyly. “She wouldn’t need to know who sent them. She wouldn’t know me. She might enjoy a flower. Flowers are such sort of heavenly things. It might just reach her and please her. But if she thought about them at all, you could let her think you sent them. Or if she ever got well enough to ask you, you could say a friend of yours gave them to you for her.”

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice husky with feeling. “I appreciate that a lot. We are strangers to you.”

  “No, not strangers anymore,” said Lisle. “God’s children. Will you give me her address so I can send the flowers?”

  He paused under a streetlight and wrote on a card from his pocket.

  “It seems I have no right to let you do this,” he said hesitantly. “I can never likely do anything for you.”

  “Oh, but you are. You have. You are doing something now. And you saved me from the street when I was alone and frightened. Besides, if it had not been for you, I never would have heard that wonderful Bible lesson, and I feel that is going to make a great difference in my life.”

  “I am humbly glad if it will do that,” he said.

  And suddenly they reached her home. Without stopping to talk about it they had walked all the way. He looked up at the brilliantly lighted house, wide and stately and luxurious, and she said eagerly, “Come in a little while. I’d like you to meet my mother. She will be grateful to you for looking out for me during the blackout.”

  He flashed her a pleasant look from his blue eyes.

  “Thank you,” he said, “but I couldn’t. I have things to do yet tonight, and I must go to work early in the morning.”

  “You—are—with the water company?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Oh, no! That was only to help out in an emergency. I’m working at the shipyard.”

  “But that’s defense work. That’s the next best thing to fighting.”

  “Yes, but I’d rather be out fighting. I’m able-bodied, and so that is really my place, you know, if it weren’t for my other duty.”

  “Yes, I understand,” said Lisle briefly. “You would feel that way. But now I thank you so much for what you have done for me, and I hope I shall see you again before long. I want to get back to that Bible class someday when I can make it possible. So then good night.” She put out her hand to his with the same graciousness she would have shown to any of her society friends. John Sargent took the touch of that small hand in his with him to cherish, as she had been cherishing his first smile, and they went on their ways out into the troublesome world, with the vision of their Christ between them.

  Mrs. Kingsley wasn’t home yet from an evening dinner engagement, and therefore Lisle had no questions to answer about the blackout. Perhaps her mother did not even know there had been a blackout, since most of her friends were provided with blackout curtains and lived in their usual blaze of light behind them while their world was in darkness.

  Lisle went straight to her room, prepared herself for rest, and then took out her Bible that had been a gift when she was very young. A beautiful Bible, and beautifully kept, with scarcely a mark of use, though she had idled through a supposed course in instruction in it in college.

  She turned the pages almost awesomely, as one might approach a familiar friend whom one is for the first time just discovering as being of royal blood. She had to look in the index to discover where Isaiah was located, but when she found it, she pored over those first chapters that had been touched upon in the class that night. She was fascinated as she read the verses, finding that the new truths she had heard fairly leaped at her from the pages and became alive and real with a clear sense that they would never have meant to her before. She found herself thinking, Oh, is that what that expression meant? Why, I never dreamed before that it was anything but a lovely essay or poem with no relation whatever to anything in existence today!

  Finally, when she was ready to lie down and sleep, she knelt beside her bed. All her life she had been in the habit of what she had always called “saying her prayers,” but tonight was different.
Her heart was coming to a Presence she had never sensed before, and as she knelt, once more that vision of the Christ stood before her closed eyes, in the semi-darkness of her room. And so she knelt, with her heart laid bare before her new Christ. Not asking for anything, just waiting before Him, acknowledging her new knowledge of what He had done for her.

  When she lay down in her bed her heart was singing softly,

  I have seen the face of Jesus,

  Tell me not of aught beside,

  I have heard the voice of Jesus,

  And my soul is satisfied.

  Somehow she drifted off to sleep, and mingled with the music in her heart, she found that a silver thread of consciousness was twisted—a consciousness that another soul understood and was a sort of partner in this knowledge of salvation that had come to her tonight. And there was just a bit of wistfulness that war horrors and restrictions might be over, and she might somehow come to have this strange young man for one of her friends. Definitely Victor could not compare with him.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning Lisle awoke with a kind of wonder in her mind. Had all that really happened the night before—the blue moon, the meeting with John Sargent, the dark room, and the message? More especially, the vision she had had of Christ? Could that all have been a dream or just a figment of her imagination?

  She sprang up and looked in her handbag where she remembered she had placed the address John had given her. Yes, it was there. Mrs. John Hartley Sargent. A pretty name. Poor dear lady! She must send some flowers that morning. Roses? Deep crimson and pure white together. That would be bright and sweet, and those fall crimson roses had such a spicy, heartening perfume. Surely even sick senses could see and smell such roses.

  She must not send too many, as if she were showing off her wealth. She wanted the roses to speak of kindly loving friendship to the dear lady whose grandson loved her so.

  She decided she would not speak of this. It was just a little private thing she wanted to do. Her mother might not understand her sudden acquaintance with this stranger. She might be alarmed. Mothers were that ways sometimes. Strange that they so readily surrendered to the correct people of good standing and large fortunes! Well, what did it matter? She likely would see very little, if any more, of this man, and it was foolish to worry her mother over something that would never need trouble her at all. Something that she would scarcely understand. Lisle sensed that her mother had been sheltered all her life and was afraid of anything that was not exactly conventional.

  When she went down to breakfast, and after her father had gone to his office, while she and her mother sat talking, her mother asked, “Where were you last night during the blackout, dear? They tell me there was a blackout, though of course I didn’t hear of it till afterward. I hope you were not out in it. I really don’t like this new fashion you have of running around evenings without an escort. I do wish Victor would come to his senses and come back and take care of you.”

  “Oh, Mother! Don’t wish that! I don’t want him back. But I was quite all right, Mother dear! I went into a place where they were having a Bible class and stayed until it was over, and then one of the class members brought me home.”

  “Well, that was kind, I’m sure. But it certainly would have been more congenial to you to have had an escort of your own kind.”

  “I’m afraid, Mother, that I shall never again feel that Victor Vandingham is one of my own kind. I’ve been feeling more and more of late that he just isn’t. He tries me almost beyond endurance, and I shall be so very glad when that terrible party is over. I somehow feel all out of harmony with a party of that sort.”

  “Well, now, my dear, you mustn’t let your feelings run away with you. You don’t want to get narrow just because Victor has displeased you.”

  “You don’t understand, Mother. I think I’m growing up and beginning to understand what things are worthwhile in life. Do you know, Mother, I enjoyed that Bible class so much, what I heard of it! I’d like you to go down there with me sometime and see if you don’t like it. I’m sure you would. The teacher was very interesting and brought out truths I’ve never heard before.”

  “Oh, indeed! Well, that was nice, since you were stranded there and couldn’t get away. But my dear, you must be careful not to let yourself get morbid and fanatical. That isn’t a healthy way to grow. You don’t want to let one disappointment blast your whole life.”

  “What do you mean, disappointment, Mother? Victor doesn’t mean that much to me, and I guess never did. But I certainly am definitely disappointed in him. He is acting like a young king about this silly party, and I hate the thought of going to it.”

  “Well, that’s a foolish way to take it. Don’t make that much of it. Just take it in your week’s program, no more, no less. And you know you simply must get that matter of your dress settled. Perhaps the easiest way will be to just run downtown this morning and buy a new one.”

  “No, Mother! I wouldn’t toady that much to Victor, and I don’t think it’s right to spend a lot of money on a foolish dress I won’t likely wear again till this war is over, and then it will be all out of fashion.”

  “Well, then get out your dresses and decide. I telephoned Miss Rilley to see if she could give us a couple of days to make any alterations your dress may need, but she is engaged in a factory helping to do something in the work of making airplanes, I think. Then I tried Miss Howe, but she is taking nurse’s training. There doesn’t seem to be anybody we know and trust who could make the alterations with any satisfaction. I think perhaps you better take it down to the department store, or Madame Sibilla’s. Perhaps that will be the simplest.”

  “No, Mother,” said Lisle firmly, “I’m not going to have any alterations made. I’m wearing the dark blue tulle, with a white silk sash, and I’m sewing a lovely deep red silk cord on the edge of the sash myself. Then it won’t cost a thing. I have the red cord. Your idea about our country’s colors was just the thing, and I’ll wear my string of pearls and my pearl star in my hair. I don’t believe Victor has ever seen that dress, but if he has, I don’t care. It’s what I’m going to wear. Now let’s forget it, and I’ll try and get through that party somehow. I only wish I didn’t have to go. ‘Tomorrow night, tomorrow night,’ I keep saying to myself. I only wish it were over.”

  “Why, my dear! I am distressed at your attitude. If you go with that thought in mind, I am sure it will come out and be seen. You mustn’t let it appear that you and Victor are not as good friends as ever. When you get through this party, you know you can drop him if you still want to, but really, for his mother’s sake, and because there will be a great many gossipy tongues set wagging if there is any change noticed from your usual attitude, you must go through with this and carry it off in your usual brave, sweet way.”

  Thus her mother counseled her, and with a sigh, Lisle went up to her room, laid out her things she was to wear, got everything in good shape, and then sat down to put the scarlet cord on her sash. She wanted to be sure her costume was beyond criticism early in the day and then she could rest easy.

  But before the sewing was done and she tried on the sash to make sure it was all right, she locked her door and threw herself down on her knees beside her bed. Somehow she felt the need of being in touch with her new Counselor, and though she was new at real prayer and scarcely knew how to voice her needs, she cried out for help.

  “Dear Christ,” she whispered, “it seems that I am going to a place where You will not be. Or, will You be there, too? For I know You are everywhere. Please help me to remember all the time that You are there. Please show me how to act and help me not to do anything that will be displeasing to You. Help me, if Victor or his mother ask me to do what I do not feel is right, to find a way out without making a scene or being discourteous. You’ll have to show me how, for I always get angry when Victor is so disappointing, and I know getting angry does no good. Help me to be strong and sweet and not to forget You are there, too!”

  She wa
s still for a long time after she ceased voicing her petition, seeing dimly once more the vision that had come to her the night before, and its memory soothed her troubled spirit.

  Then she rose and went down in response to the summons to lunch, and her face, though not exactly bright, was full of peace.

  “You’ll be all right, Lisle,” said her mother with a smile. “Just remember that your family is every bit as good as the Vandingham family, and hold your head up.”

  Somehow her mother’s encouraging words struck a harsh note on the spirit that had been bending low in prayer. The words she said in answer startled her worried mother.

  “Mother, it wasn’t meant to be this way, was it, when the world was made?”

  “What way? What do you mean?” asked her mother anxiously.

  “Why, people caring about families. Why should one family be any better than another? Why should we care? God made us all. Didn’t He mean us to be alike?”

  “Why, my child! How strangely you talk! Of course, but not everybody chose to be ‘alike,’ as you say. Some went one way, some another, and it’s what we have become that counts. Some have worked hard and gained wealth, and prestige, of course, which follows wealth, and some have been lazy and haven’t tried. So there is a very great difference now in the families of the earth. Fortunately for you, your family has been one of the best and greatest. Your ancestors on both sides have had notable people, writers and thinkers and statesmen, many wealthy businessmen, some great inventors. I doubt if even the Vandinghams can number as many outstanding names.”

  Lisle looked troubled.

  “But Mother, after all, does that need to count so much? Isn’t it pleasing God that counts most?”

  “Why, yes, of course, Lisle,” her mother replied embarrassedly, “but why are you talking so much about God? You aren’t going to turn fanatical, are you?” She gave a little laugh apologetically. “You know, dear, that would be most unfortunate. You would be likely to make people think you had a broken heart, and if you should give up Victor, you don’t want people to think you are brokenhearted.”