Happiness Hill

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Then he fell to thinking of his own lonely life and the future that was before him. The waves beat drowsily upon the shore, the sweet salt breeze blew in at the window, and his thoughts drifted out to the misty ocean, to phantom ships that might be bringing him treasure, and so he fell asleep.

  The little cottage grew very still, everybody was asleep but Jane, and she was nestling close against the sleeping little sister, thinking how sweet she was, how dear they all were, feeling a great thrill of gratitude that she had been able to bring them down here to the wonderful sea, and that in spite of primitive conditions, everybody seemed to be having a delightful time. Counting over her small stock of savings, she decided against the fur coat that she had been wanting so long. She would just keep them all down here as long as possible, even if Father got well enough to go back to work for short hours, it would be good for him to come back to the sea air at night, at least until the city got cooler.

  She lay for a while watching the moonlight on the strip of ocean she could see from her window, making her delightful plans and thinking how happy she was tonight. And just about the time she forgot to think anymore and dropped off to sleep, Lauderdale, up in the city, was reading her note. In his hurry and annoyance when he first arrived at the hotel, he had overlooked it in his mailbox.

  All the evening he had been tearing around the city trying to locate Jane. He had kept the telephone wires hot with any clue that came his way, attempting to trace her. He had even ventured to call on the great Dulaney himself, calling him from a very special dinner gathering where momentous business matters were being settled. Dulaney had referred him in an icy voice, reproof in every syllable, to the manager of the department, who finally proved to be away for the weekend. Not until Lauderdale had taken another taxi and humbled himself to go to Flora Street did he find any clue to his lost dinner guest. It was from Mrs. Smith, walking the porch with her screaming baby in her arms, in the hot, hot evening, that he got full details of the migration of the Arleth family to the shore. Mrs. Smith, with her caustic tongue, always aimed to speak the truth, the whole truth, and sometimes even more than the truth.

  If Jane had known what was going on up in the city she would not have drifted off to sleep quite so happily, with such rosy visions of the morrow.

  Chapter 9

  The boys were sleeping in the living room and turned out early the next morning to make the room ready for the day. They ran down to the beach to take a quiet dip before breakfast and were back in time to help the girls get things on the table.

  Sunday morning!

  The day was clear and bright with not a hint of the terrible heat that had made the city so unbearable for the last few weeks. It seemed impossible to believe that it might still be hot up in the city this morning.

  The sea seemed washed and made fresh in the early sparkle, and the life-giving air swept cleanly into the doors and windows and made them all feel buoyant and strong. All that ocean out there before them! It seemed almost wasteful, Father Arleth remarked, as he stood for a moment looking out at it—seemed as if they ought somehow to share it with some of their poor stifling neighbors at home.

  “Not the Smith baby!” said Tom quickly. “Not on yer life! I’ll beat it if you bring him around.”

  Sunday morning, and so still and lovely, except for the beating of the waves. And even the waves seemed to use a more subdued tone.

  Jane remembered with a twinge of conscience that there had been no church-going on the mountain, no church, apparently, to attend. Sunday had been like any other day on the mountain, everybody playing golf and tennis and going on picnics. Jane hadn’t done exactly that. She had kept out of things as much as she could without actually declining, professing to prefer to read, pleading a headache and weariness, but she had been rather miserable all day. She had not given any witness for her position as a Christian. Of course it would not have done any good, she reflected, for they would only have laughed, but she felt that she had been disloyal to her faith.

  This morning she meant for things to be different. Father and Mother would expect it of course, and anyway, Sherwood easily adapted himself to circumstances. If he thought it was strange for them to go to church, he would at least keep it to himself.

  The two invalids were ruled out of church-going as a matter of course. “Next Sunday perhaps.” Jane smiled as she and Betty Lou, followed by Tom and Sherwood, obeyed the clanging of the bell that tolled dolorously from the little wooden steeple a few dunes down the sandy way.

  There was only a handful of people scattering along to join them, straying in with curious eyes turned toward the strangers, but there was a young student from one of the Bible schools in the city to take the service, and his soul was on fire for God. He played the wheezy organ and boomed out the hymns with a voice none too cultured but straight from the heart. Then he talked humbly and without affectation on how to be born again as a child of God and how to be sure one’s sins were forgiven.

  Sherwood listened as he had never listened to a sermon before. Perhaps he had never heard many sermons, but no learned dissertation of any great preacher could ever have reached his heart as did that simple straightforward talk from the humble disciple of the Lord who was trying to tell them of an experience of his own, something he had that they might have, too. Sherwood’s eyes were fixed upon him from the first word to the last.

  “I never heard anything quite like that before. Is that a common belief among Christians?” he asked Jane as they walked back to the cottage. Tom and Betty Lou had run on ahead to watch a lot of little sandpipers catching sand crabs down by the waves and getting their little kid feet wet in the edge of the water.

  Jane looked up puzzled. “Just what do you mean?” she asked.

  “That idea that people have a right to be sure that their sins are forgiven and that salvation is certain.”

  “I think so,” answered Jane, vaguely trying to remember just what her Sunday school teacher had said about that not long ago. “I think that’s what I’ve always been taught.”

  “I’d like to look up that young man’s authority,” said Sherwood with a quick reversion to that grown-up look that sometimes came over him and changed him so amazingly into a man of more mature years. “He made a pretty clear case of it, but I’d like to see just what he builds on. Those verses he repeated—I wonder if they are literal quotations or twisted around to suit the man’s own interpretation. I’d like to read them myself.”

  “Well, that’s easy,” said Jane. “I’ll bring my Bible down on the sand this afternoon and we’ll look them up. Betty Lou will love it. I suppose Tom will make a fuss about it. He never likes people to read aloud, but maybe since you are there he will stand for it!”

  “You have a Bible with you?”

  Jane was conscious of surprise on his face. “Oh yes,” she said, a sudden flush coming to her cheek at the thought that he had not expected her to have a Bible with her even though she might own one. Well, of course she had given him no reason to suppose she was even a Christian. “I have a lovely new Bible that the family gave me not long ago for my birthday. It has a wonderful concordance in the back where you can find verses on any subject, and most enlightening footnotes and references. I haven’t had much time to give to it since I got it, but it is said to be a great help in studying.”

  “I should like to see it,” said the young man earnestly.

  But Jane went thoughtfully into the cottage pondering her own lack of witness to the truths, which down deep in her heart she really believed were the most essential in life.

  When the roast chicken and apple pie were eaten and the dishes washed and put away, the elders went to take their nap and the young people trailed out on the sand.

  Sherwood made a pile of sand covered with an army blanket for the girls to lean back against and dropped down easily beside Jane.

  Tom had thrown himself down nearby, his knees in the air, his old cap pulled down so he could just glimpse the ships that hung
like toys on the horizon.

  “Gee! Isn’t this great?” he murmured contentedly.

  “Now read!” commanded Betty Lou happily, digging her fingers into the damp sand at her side in an ecstasy of delight.

  “Good night! Betts! Wahddaya want? Another sermon?” growled her brother, rolling over and glaring at her.

  “It’s only a few verses Mr. Sherwood wanted to look up,” placated Jane pleasantly. “It won’t take long.”

  “Oh, all right, fire ahead! But make it snappy or I’m going to sleep!” declared the youth, rolling over with his back half toward them, his arms folded defiantly, and his old cap down lower than ever.

  “That’s all right, buddy,” soothed Sherwood. “We were just talking about that sermon this morning and whether it is possible for us to do anything to save ourselves. That chap this morning seemed to think not, yet he made out a pretty clear case that we could be dead sure we were saved. Now I’d like to see what authority he had for saying that.”

  “Now, where did that man say his text was? Ephesians something? Yes, here it is,” said Jane, fluttering over the leaves of her Bible. “Ephesians 2:8–9, ‘For by grace are ye saved, through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God; not of works, lest any man should boast.’ ” Sherwood leaned over and read the words carefully.

  “Well, it’s all there just as he said,” he remarked thoughtfully. “ ‘Not of works, lest any man should boast.’ H’m!”

  “Gee! Then ya can go ahead and do any old thing, sin as much as ya want, and yet be saved, can ya?” burst forth Tom unexpectedly.

  Jane looked puzzled. She knew there must be some answer to that. If only she had spent more time getting acquainted with her Bible! She fluttered the leaves vaguely. Here was a chance to help her brother and perhaps John Sherwood, too, and she was utterly at a loss!

  Realizing the responsibility of her position, she raised a desperate cry in her heart for help, when all at once her eye lit on almost the very words that Tom had used. “Oh,” she cried, “somebody else has asked the same question, Tom. Listen! ‘What then? shall we sin because we are not under the law, but under grace? God forbid. Know ye not that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness? But God be thanked, that ye were the servants of sin, but ye have obeyed from the heart that form of doctrine which was delivered you. Being then made free from sin, ye became the servants of righteousness.’ That’s from the sixth chapter of Romans. Wasn’t it funny that I happened on that just then? Oh, and here is some more. Shall I read it?”

  She looked half-anxiously toward Tom, who remained motionless under his cap, but Sherwood answered quickly, “Yes, let’s have it. I never realized the Bible had things like this in it.”

  Jane read again, “ ‘For when ye were the servants of sin, ye were free from righteousness. What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed? for the end of those things is death.’”

  Tom suddenly flung himself over with his back to them all, but Jane kept on reading, “ ‘But now being made free from sin, and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life.’ ”

  “Is that all?” asked Sherwood, reading over her shoulder again.

  “Wait!” said Jane. “Let’s see what this reference is. ‘I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.’ ”

  As Jane finished reading the solemn words, every face was thoughtful.

  Then Sherwood spoke, “As I see it, brother, the Lord doesn’t require anything of Christians in the way of good deeds, but He wants them to let Him have His way with them because He did everything for them.”

  But Tom lay very still. He might have been asleep for all the sign that he gave of hearing.

  After a moment Betty Lou spoke shyly, “Does that mean that if we are made new by Christ, we will want to do what He wants, Sister?”

  “I think it does, dear,” answered Jane, half-startled at the wisdom of the child. She looked into the sweet earnest face, marveling that she had so simply and quickly gone to the heart of the matter.

  “Well, but I thought we all had to be judged for our sins!” Suddenly Tom rolled over belligerently and confronted them all. “I know it says so somewhere in the Bible. It says we have to stand up in two rows on the Judgment Day and be judged; and all our sins are written out on the sky where everybody can see them, and some are sheep and some are goats. They taught us that in Sunday school when I was a little kid!”

  “Tom Arleth!” exclaimed Betty Lou in a shocked voice. “They never taught it to you that way! You must have listened wrong!”

  “Wait, Tom,” said Jane quickly, “I’ll look that up in the index ‘Judgment’! That ought to give us something about it. ‘Judgment of Primitive Creation’…that wouldn’t be it. ‘Judgment of Believers’ Sins’…‘Judgment of Believers’ Works.’ That must be what we are after.”

  She turned the leaves rapidly and then read, “ ‘For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.’ ”

  “Yes, that’s it,” broke in Tom. “There you see, Betts, I was right.”

  “But wait, Tom,” cried Jane. “Here’s a footnote! ‘The judgment of the believers’works, not sins is in question here. The sins have been atoned for, and are remembered no more forever; but every work must come into judgment. The result is reward or loss of the reward, but he himself shall be saved. This judgment occurs at the return of Christ!’ Then it refers to another verse: ‘For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now, if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble; every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is. If any man’s work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. If any man’s work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire.’ ”

  “Will you write down the places where those verses are found?” asked Sherwood gravely, getting a pencil and notebook out of his pocket, “I’d like to read them over again.”

  Jane took the pencil and began to write. Tom sat up with his hands clasped around his knees, looking thoughtfully out to sea. The air was very soft and sweet. The waves lapped gently along the shore.

  Suddenly, into the quiet of the Sunday afternoon, there came a strange, ominous, whirring sound from above.

  “What’s that?” asked Betty Lou, sitting up and looking back over her shoulder.

  It came portentously in the quiet stillness of this far shore, gaining sound with every second.

  “It’s an airplane!” said Tom, taking off his cap and gazing into the heavens. “Some plane! Must be one of those big government machines. See how low she is!”

  They all gazed up and watched the great bird as it came on silvery wings, flashing in the sunlight, coming nearer and nearer.

  “Gosh!” said Tom excitedly. “Look how low she is! Gee! I believe she’s going to land here! Wouldn’t that be great! I’d like to get close to her! Some plane!”

  Nearer and nearer came the plane, circling out over the sea till it almost dipped the waves and then curing in to shore and gliding down to the hard smooth beach till it came to rest not far from where they sat.

  “Gosh! I’m going to get a look at her!” spoke Tom, springing up eagerly. “Come on, let’s see what’s the matter! Must be having engine trouble or they never would land on this forsaken place. Gee, I’d like to have a chance to look her engine over!” and he stared eagerly toward the plane.

  “Shall we go down a little nearer?” asked Sherwood, getting up and holding out his hand to Jane, for Betty Lou was alread
y hotfoot after her brother.

  Jane took the offered hand and came to her feet, one finger holding the place in her Bible as she walked along beside him.

  “I’ll carry that for you,” said Sherwood, possessing himself of the book and carefully putting his finger in to keep the place.

  When Jane looked toward the plane again, two men were detaching themselves from it and one had a strangely familiar look as he came toward them. Was it—could it possibly be that Lew Lauderdale had traced and followed her down here?

  And then she saw Tom halt in his rush toward the plane and stand hesitating until they caught up with him.

  “Gosh, Jinny, it’s that coddled egg! I give you warning, Sister, if you let that poor fish hang around and spoil our vacation, I’ll bust the tar out of him!”

  Chapter 10

  In consternation Jane looked toward the new arrivals and wondered suddenly why she should feel as she did. Only a few brief days ago she had been flattered by the attentions of this man, and now she was suffering her brother to talk about him in the most outrageous way. It must be stopped.

  “Tom!” she said, turning upon him with an indignation she seldom showed to him, “you’ve got to stop this! I won’t have you making fun of my friends, and if you’re rude or do anything that will make me ashamed, I shall have to ask Father to speak to you.”

  “I hope you don’t call that tough egg a friend of yours,” said her brother as indignantly. “I thought you had better sense! I never saw you pick your friends that way before. That poor little shrimp hasn’t time to think about anything but himself! He’s—”