Beauty for Ashes

by Grace Livingston Hill

  It wasn’t anything the world would count as wrong that she had done, just silly prideful things that did not savor of the finest and best—and she had been learning of late to count these more important than any earthly values. But she felt the sin of her human pride keenly now in this awful night alone, and she hated to think of having to face the truth in the clear glance of Robert Carroll. Oh, it didn’t matter whether she told him about it in words or not; he would know. He had eyes that could see, and she dreaded to find that hurt, disappointed look in them when she met him. It would be there. It would surely be there. It was something, she imagined, like the eyes of God at the judgment, in lesser degree perhaps.

  Suddenly, out of the darkness of the sky, a shiver of lightning rent across the sky, and a low rumble of thunder followed. Was she going to have to face a thunderstorm with all the rest?

  She hurried on, breathless. The lightning had showed looming darkness ahead, and another flash showed it still more clearly. That was woods, and she must pass there. Perhaps she would be caught in the storm under those tall trees, and trees she knew were dangerous in an electric storm.

  She put her head down and began to run, and the lightning came up like some great bright monster and slithered across the sky above her, chasing her into cover.

  She gained the woods, and the thunder rolled ominously. She stumbled on breathlessly to get out from under the trees before the storm would break, and when she came to the open road again, she staggered to the side of the road and sat down to rest. It seemed as though she could not go on another step. One heel had torn loose from her silly little shoe, and every step onward was painful. Presently the shoe itself came off as she hurried on again, and was lost in the darkness. She felt around in the road for it, sobbing softly, though she was hardly away of it, but it evaded her. Even when another long sheet of lightning lit up the sky again, her eyes searched in vain for the shoe. She must go on without it!

  She hurried forward, the stones hurting her unclad foot. She reached down and took off the other shoe, but that only put both feet at the mercy of the stones. She went back a step or two to try to find the lost shoe again but saw no sign of it, and the thunder sounded nearer now—long, low rumbles. The wind was blowing fiercely, and the trees were twisting and writhing like human forms against the hurtling, battled clouds whenever the lightning came to show them. Strange that such a storm should come up after such a glorious sunset! Yet the night had been ages long. Perhaps it wasn’t the same night. Perhaps she was delirious somewhere in a hospital, and not really walking stocking-footed in a strange, dark road at night. Miles she had come. Would she never get there? “God! God! Robert’s God! Robert Carroll loves You, God! He believes You can do anything!”

  She was talking out loud to herself. There were large, cold drops falling now, far apart and very sharp as they splashed into her face. They looked like diamonds as the lightning played with them intermittently. She drew the burlap over her had and crouched as she ran breathlessly on.

  She must be coming to Robert Carroll’s cornfield pretty soon. That wasn’t so far beyond the woods, she remembered. What if she should be struck by lightning, fall somewhere near his gateway, and in the morning somebody would find her lying there dead! What terrible things could be said! What unspeakable things could happen! Perhaps Robert or somebody else could be charged with murder, and she not there to prove it wasn’t so!

  Wild, insane thoughts these were. She recognized it even as they flashed through her tired brain. But crazy or not, she must get away from here. Not a breath must ever touch Robert on her account. Yes, there was his gateway up ahead, and beyond was the top of this little rise in the road. When she reached the top, it would be downhill for a little while and not such hard going. Her feet were paining her terribly, and there was a cut in the sole of one stocking that put her foot right out on the ground. But what matter! Many people had to go barefoot—why not she? She tried to be stoic but only succeeded in giving a little sad sob.

  And then, almost opposite that gate that she was hurrying away from so fast, a light suddenly stabbed her in the eyes, two great red eyes of light that picked her out in the road and made every line of her sad, young figure, every thread of her burlap attire, every nerve in her body it seemed, visible to the world. She stood petrified for an instant just where it had caught her. Then suddenly she sprang into action.

  That was a car! That might be Emory Zane. He had come back and been to the house and, not finding her, had come out to search again! Well, he might have more human kindness in his nature than she had given him credit for, but he should not find her if she could help it. Never willingly would she look upon his hateful face again. She would rather never get home than have him take her there.

  She darted to the right, away form Robert Carroll’s gateway, straight into the shadow, creeping stealthily thought the darkness, edging herself hurriedly into a great clump of elderberry bushes taller than her head, and drawing the burlap about her, even over her face. She stood so in the driving rain and waited breathless.

  “Oh, God! Robert’s God!” she prayed, and held her breath to listen!

  Chapter 15

  Robert Carroll had had no very definite plan when he left the Sutherland house and insisted to his friend Murray that he must go home, except that he wanted to get by himself and pray. He had a vague feeling that there still might be something further he could do that night to find the girl who had grown so dear to him.

  But he had wanted to be alone, to look into the face of God and listen to his heavenly Father speaking through this sorrow that had come. He wanted to be alone when he took from his Father’s hand the cup of bitterness that seemed to be his. His heart was crying out for his beloved in spite of himself, and he knew that he must be alone and quiet in order to have it stilled and that it might be centered again in Christ.

  One question kept recurring to him. Why had he been given this great burden for her soul if the Lord did not desire to use him in her salvation? Well, that was something only the Lord could deal with. He could not force her to accept Christ, and if she did not, he knew his way was clear before him.

  As he drove along now, he began to pray that no matter how much it meant of crucifixion to himself, Vanna herself might be saved.

  “Just that, dear Lord,” he prayed, “and show me beyond the shadow of a doubt what to do. But, oh, dear Lord, bring her back home safely!”

  It was then he topped the hill and his lights shot out their two long bright rays and picked her out as she stood in the road, frightened, weeping, ready to drop.

  He knew her at once, and his heart leaped up. God had answered a part of his prayer at least. It startled him to have the answer come so quickly, even though he was used to receiving startling answers to his prayers.

  His car shot forward and came to a stop just where he had seen her standing. He looked all about and strained his eyes, but he could see no sign of her. Had it been a mirage, a sort of vision? He was overwrought, he knew, and weary beyond expression. Such things had been known, visions that were purely imagination.

  But this had been so plain! He could not just go on and drive into his own gateway, ignore it utterly. He must be sure.

  He stepped out and stood on the running board of his car shading his eyes, but there was nothing stirring anywhere except the raindrops falling sharp aslant and pattering on the maple leaves of the trees with which the road was lined.

  Vanna had been terrified beyond degree when the car slowed up and stopped opposite her. Her tired brain was sure it was Emory Zane. By the time she had sunk to her knees on the wet ground, she was shaking with fear.

  “Oh, God,” her heart cried out, “if you won’t help me for Robert’s sake, do it for Jesus’ sake! Robert says He died for me. I’m not worth it, but I’ll try to be!”

  “Vanna!” called Robert softly. “Vanna!” his voice growing clearer. “Oh, Vanna! Where are you?”

  There was anguish in his tone, and Vanna�
�s spirit leaped up to answer the cry. It was Robert! He was hunting for her!

  “Here! Here!” she sobbed, limping out from her bushes, stumbling over the ditch by the roadside, scrambling and falling into the road.

  He was beside her in an instant, stooping to pick her up.

  “Oh, my darling!” he said as he lifted her tenderly. “My darling! My precious love!”

  He put his face down to hers that was wet with tears and rain, and there in the rain for just an instant he held her close and she lay breathless in wonder. It seemed as if a little sanctuary had suddenly enclosed them, shutting out the elements, shutting them in together.

  Then he came to himself and rushed her to the car, pulling off her dripping hat and wet burlap and casting them into the back of the car, taking off his own coat and wrapping it about her.

  “Thank God, I have found you!” he said. It was as if his soul were talking to itself and he did not know that he was speaking aloud.

  Then Vanna summoned her voice. “I spoke to your God,” she said awesomely. “I asked Him to help me for Jesus’ sake, because I thought if He died for me, He must care enough, and then right away you were here!”

  Robert turned as if electrified. “You prayed that?” he said in wonder, his voice shaking.

  “Yes,” she answered almost sadly, “but I didn’t deserve to have Him answer me. That’s no way to come to Him, just in terror. Oh, I’m a mess! I don’t know why you bothered to come and save me!” Vanna was crying now.

  Robert reached out hungry arms and drew her close to his heart. “My darling! My precious love!” he murmured with his lips against hers. He was trembling with joy. “I came for the same reason our Savior came, because I love you!”

  “Oh,” cried Vanna, “I never knew there was love like this!”

  “I knew there was love,” he said as he looked down at her face against his breast. “I had it in my own heart, but tell me, do you think you could ever care for me?”

  “Care!” lilted Vanna. “My heart turned right over the first time I saw you from the window!”

  Then he had to draw her close to him again and set his seal once more upon her lips. “But darling! You are cold! Your teeth are chattering!” he said in horror. “What have I been thinking of? Just my own selfish happiness! I must get you home at once!”

  “I’m all r-r-right!” she chattered, trying to control the chills that shook her.

  “And you are crying, dear! How careless I have been!”

  “No, I’m laughing!” gurgled Vanna though her tears. “I’m s–s–sorry I’m s–s–such a b–b–baby! But it’s s–s–so g–g–good to know you l–l–love me!”

  “Precious!” he said, reaching her hands. “But your hands are like ice. And what is this wet thing you are holding so carefully? Your purse? And what’s the other? Let me have it. I must warm your hands. Why, it’s a shoe!”

  “Yes,” giggled Vanna. “I lost the heel to the other one, and then I lost the other one itself in the dark, but I couldn’t get on very well with only one shoe, so I took it off!”

  “Oh, my dear!” he said in a hurt tone, feeling down for her wet feet. “Why, child, your feet are sopping wet and you’re practically barefoot. Your stockings are in rags. Here, let me rub your feet!”

  He took the cold feet and held them in his big, warm hands.

  “This is terrible!” he said. “We must get you right back to the house where you can get warmed quickly or you will be having pneumonia. I have been all kinds of a fool to waste precious time.”

  “It wasn’t wasted,” said Vanna, snuggling close to him. “I’d rather have pneumonia than miss this.”

  “Well, we won’t miss anything,” he said with deep tenderness in his voice, “but it’s my job now to look out for you, and I’m getting you home at once. I wish we had a robe to wrap around you, but how about tucking your feet under you? I’ll drive as fast as I can, and it won’t be long. Perhaps there is something in the car to help.”

  He searched and found a duster in one of the compartments of the car and wrapped her feet up in it. “At least it’s dry if it’s not very immaculate,” he said. “And I’ll find that other shoe in the morning before anybody spies it and makes up a tale for the neighborhood about it! Where was it you lost it? Over there where you fell?”

  Vanna began to giggle. “No,” she said, “it was just after I passed through the woods. I think it was on the other side of the road in the ditch. I felt around everywhere, and I didn’t get it. But maybe I’m mistaken about where it was. I was so frightened and tired, I guess I was confused.”

  “Well, I’ll locate it. Leave this one in the car so I can match them up. Is the heel near the shoe?”

  “No, I lost that before I entered the woods.”

  “All right, now, let’s go!”

  He slipped back behind the wheel and drew her close to him again with the coat buttoned under her chin.

  “It’s just come over me,” he said as he looked down at her and felt her hands to see if they were getting warm. “I’m just realizing who it is that I’ve been daring to fall in love with. An heiress! And I only a poor farmer with nothing to his name but a little land and an old farmhouse! I ought to be horsewhipped, I know, but somehow I can’t help being very happy!”

  “I’m learning to cook,” said Vanna with a hysterical little giggle. “Emily taught me how to make an apple pie day before yesterday.”

  “You precious child! As if I’d let you cook!”

  “Well, you better,” said Vanna. “I want to be a real farmer’s wife! I’m not going to be cheated out of my share!”

  That made another embrace necessary, but it was a hasty one, for he knew he ought to get her home. So he tucked her up again and put his foot on the starter.

  “What a selfish brute I am”—he grinned down at her— “keeping you here so long just to enjoy you and realize that you are mine—and His!” he added softly as he started the car.

  “Do you think He will take me for His? I’m no good at all,” wailed Vanna like a little child.

  “He took me, dear, and I wasn’t even as good as that. It’s Christ’s righteousness that He looks at, not our own.”

  Vanna sighed with relief and joy.

  “But your poor sister is waiting there for news!” he suddenly exclaimed. “We must hurry!” and he made the car leap forward. “You poor, cold little darling!”

  “Oh, I’m warm now,” said Vanna, nestling close to his shoulder. “But you’re all wet where my hair has touched your shirt sleeve—see! It will be you that will catch cold!”

  He then did what he had so many times deplored in other young men driving along the road with a girl—kept one arm around her. However, they were not being troubled with traffic. Not a car had passed, not a soul was abroad, and the storm swept on furiously with rending thunder and sharp, bright lightning, but it did not bother them. The road was straight now to Afton, and all too soon for them they arrived.

  “But I haven’t told you a thing about how it all happened!” said Vanna suddenly as she saw the brightly lit house. “I ought to have explained at once. I am so ashamed!”

  “Never mind explanations now,” said Robert, stopping his car. “We want to get you into the warmth quickly!” and he lifted her out and bore her swiftly through the rain, up the steps to the open door where Gloria waited, the light from the hall making a halo of her hair. Across the street, Murray was hurrying, slinging on his coat as he ran, not bothering to wait for an umbrella. Vanna caught a glimpse of it all as she was carried along. There came to her a new sense of the pain and anxiety through which they had all been passing for her sake, and an overwhelming shame came over her.

  Robert laid her down on the big, old couch in the living room and drew the couch out in front of the fireplace. “She is very cold and wet,” he said breathlessly, “have you got some hot coffee or something? She must be warmed and dried at once.” He knelt beside the couch and busied himself pulling off the
wet stockings and rubbing Vanna’s cold feet.

  Emily appeared, coming down the stairs in dressing gown and slippers, her hair straggling around her shoulders. She brought blankets and a pillow. She spread the blankets before the fire.

  “Is she hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Was there an accident?”

  “No, I think not,” said Robert, still rubbing away at the little white foot. “I really haven’t had time”—he cast a twinkling look at Vanna then finished boldly—“haven’t had time to ask her yet. I found her walking on the road, walking up from Ripley! She was out in all the storm, and she lost one of her shoes. It was hard going.”

  “I’m all right, really,” said Vanna, trying to rouse herself from the lethargy that the warmth and brightness brought over her. Now that she was safe, she realized that she was terribly tired. It was enough for her just to lie still and watch Robert’s face. Robert, who loved her! Amazing fact! Was it really true?

  “Get that wet coat off of her,” commanded Emily capably, holding the blanket perilously near to the blaze. “Where is Murray? Didn’t I see him coming in? Murray,” she said as he appeared at the door, his face still just a bit anxious, “please bring in another armful of wood. John will be down in a minute, I think, but we don’t want this fire to die down. Bob, pull that coat off and hang it by the kitchen range to dry. You’re all wet yourself, do you know it?”

  “It doesn’t matter about me,” said Robert cheerfully.

  “Well, you two men run out in the kitchen anyway then,” said Emily, laughing. “I want to get this wet dress off of her. Then I’ll roll her in a hot blanket and you can all come back. My goodness! Take this wet hat with you, too, and call to John to bring some towels down. Her hair is sopping wet!”

  Lying comfortably rolled in hot blankets at last, her hair rubbed dry and beginning to curl up again in lovely ringlets, Vanna looked up to see a small procession entering the room. Gloria, her face still white and anxious, and Murray, bearing a tray containing a bowl of hot soup, Robert close behind, putting a final turn to the stopper of a hot water bottle, and John bringing up the rear with a basin of warm water and soap and a towel.