The Seventh Hour

by Grace Livingston Hill

  She stooped and picked up the letter and read on.

  And now, my dear, I must tell you that I am in trouble and distress, and I have come to you to help me out. Your dear mother would, of course, help me if she knew my need, but I hesitate to trouble her. And besides, the other day I suddenly remembered that you are no longer a child. You are of age and have come into your own at last. And of course, you are the one I should have thought of in the first place. I recall that you were to inherit your money some months ago, and of course, by this time you are quite used to making out checks and transacting business for yourself, so it will not be a difficult task I am setting for you.

  My dear Corinne, could you lend me a little matter of five hundred dollars for a couple of months until my own money from the sale of my Asian estate can reach me from the other side of the world?

  Of course, if you find that five hundred dollars will straiten you too much all at once, I could make out with three hundred now and the other two hundred a month later. But I do hope that your tender heart will see your way clear to letting me have the whole sum at once, for it will make my way much easier and assist me in what I am trying to do.

  You will be pleased, I know, to hear that I am planning to return to my native land to live and am thinking strongly of taking an apartment in New York. I find that the separation from your dear beautiful mother is more than I can bear, and I want to come back and see if I cannot win her to myself again. I know that this would make you very happy, you were always such a loving and obedient daughter; therefore I am sure you will help me all that you can. Of course, if I have to come out in the open and ask Lisa for that money I loaned her several years ago and that she has never repaid me, it may be more uncomfortable in the end for you. Therefore I am hoping that you will be in a position to lend me this small sum at once, and I assure you that it will be repaid within a short time and that I shall not forget your kindness and will repay it with paternal love as well as with money. On the other hand, if you fail me, it is fair that I warn you that much suffering for yourself will result.

  Your very loving father-in-love,

  Dinsmore Collette

  Coralie crumpled the pages viciously into a ball and flung them across the room in her wrath, wishing she could vent her feelings somehow on the innocent paper.

  Oh, what a life! Trouble and battle in the morning! Trouble threatening in the evening! And no peace anywhere!

  Now! What should she do? Of one thing she was sure: she would never lend a cent to Dinsmore Collette! He was false through and through. Just how he could get revenge upon her she did not know, but she was sure he would find a way if it meant enough to him, and she was afraid. Somehow she knew he was aware she would be afraid.

  To think he had ferreted out her little holdings and remembered when she would come into her own. He was daring to count on playing on her weakness! How well he knew how helpless she was, with no friends who would dare to help her!

  Ah! But she had a brother! Dinsmore did not know about her brother and that he had come to her vicinity and that she could call upon him in need. He did not know that her brother had a friend who was strong and knew God. He did not know that even she could have God for a helper and that she was in a way to find out how to be saved. Did being saved include things like this that threatened to disrupt one's life on earth as well as in the hereafter?

  Softly she slipped upon her knees beside the bed in the dusk of her room and put her face reverently down in her pillow. All day she had been going to seek audience with a great God and had been interrupted, and now here she was face-to-face with a great need. Could she just tell God all about it, as Bruce Carbury had said, even without preliminaries? Even though she didn't yet know Him?

  Down at the entrance to the apartment the postman and the butler were having a discussion. The butler was shaking his head gravely.

  "No, sir! No one of that name here. Coralie Barron? No, sir. We haven't got any guests just now, either, not of that name!"

  "But that's your number," said the postman insistently. "Maybe it's somebody that's coming tonight. Why'n't ya go ask?"

  "We've had no word of any guest coming," said the butler stiffly. "Coralie Barron. Never heard of her."

  "But I think Coralie's Miss Corinne's other name," interpolated the maid who had dropped out in the hall to see if there was any mail for herself. "I'm sure that's her other name. It's Corinne C., you know," she persisted. "And Barron was the name of the madam's first husband, at least something like that. And that was the name of the young man that looked so much like Miss Corinne. Dana Barron. Don't you remember?"

  The butler looked at her stupidly.

  "It might be so," he said.

  "I'll go ask," said the maid eagerly. She was very anxious to know why Miss Corinne was staying all this time in her own room and the madam was out. So she took the letter to Coralie's door, all excited to be bringing another letter, although this wasn't special delivery and looked only like a note from the city. Maybe only an ad.

  So once more Coralie was roused from an attempt at prayer by a letter.

  But this time it was only a little note from Valerie Shannon asking Coralie to come and spend the next weekend with her, and it came in its quiet simplicity like an answer to her incoherent prayer for help.

  "Would that letter be for you, Miss Corinne?" the maid had asked. "The postman insisted it was our number."

  Coralie glanced at the address.

  "Why, yes, Bella. That's my real name, you know, and I'm going to use it after this, so please tell the postman, and the others," and then she went on reading her letter, a bit breathless because it was so different from other letters she had been used to receiving and because it was from another world and seemed a note of calm in the turmoil of her day.

  With the balm that came through that little quiet letter, soothing her troubled heart, Coralie went back to her interrupted prayer, and this time it seemed easier to talk to Valerie's God, while she held Valerie's kind, friendly little letter in her hand. So she rose at last, strengthened in her faith by her few stumbling words, feeling that in a feeble way she belonged to a great company of believers. That gave her more confidence.

  It was a new experience to have a little thrill of joy of anticipation in her heart, as she finally rose and sat down to answer that note of Valerie's. Would she spend the weekend with her? Joy! Of course she would. It would give her opportunity to see more of this family and find out if the love they seemed to have for one another was real. It would give her some idea of what life could be when it was lived on a different plane. Perhaps she could find out more about the kind of life her brother had lived as he was growing up. She wanted to see whether she liked such a life. Whether on close observance it would stand the test and appeal to her as something that might bring happiness.

  So she wrote her little note of happy acceptance, and mailed it, and then went to investigate what was going on in the apartment. She was getting hungry, and surely it must be late. She wanted to eat dinner and get away somewhere so that she would not have to come into contact with Errol and Ivor that evening. She wished the invitation had been for tonight. She wondered whether there might be another meeting at that mission. It wasn't going to be easy to go out every evening, for there weren't many places where she felt she wanted to go just now. She wanted to get away from the old life and get hold of something real.

  She summoned Bella.

  "Isn't it almost dinnertime?" she asked.

  "Whenever you say, Miss Corinne," said Bella deferentially. "The madam is away, you know."

  "Oh!" said Coralie. "Did she say when she would return?"

  Bella gave her a searching glance, but Coralie wore her usual lazy, inscrutable look.

  "She took luggage with her. She said she would telephone when she got ready to return. She said you would give your own orders."

  So! It was to be a new form of punishment, absent treatment. Well, that was a relief, but surely there
would be some newfound way of torture. Whenever there was mystery, there was always punishment.

  "Yes," said Coralie. "I should have ordered sooner, but I was asleep. All right. Bring me a tray, please. I won't bother to dress for dinner tonight. Just bring what there is, something hot, and a little fruit. You know how to get me something nice, Bella." She gave an unwonted smile, and the girl hurried away wondering, but Coralie sat trying to puzzle out just what this move of Lisa's might mean. Would she return later in the evening with her own crowd, or had she taken them all away somewhere to one of her favorite haunts? Or was she planning some disagreeable surprise that would spring on her later in the evening? Could it be possible that this letter from Dinsmore had been faked by Lisa, who had used her ability to imitate handwriting to frighten her rebellious daughter? Could it be possible that Dinsmore might arrive later and demand to see her when she was all alone? She shuddered at the thought, and cold fear crept up to her heart. Surely not that. For if he was really here and this was a genuine letter she had received from him, he would surely wait until tomorrow to see if she would answer and offer the demanded five hundred dollars peaceably.

  Nevertheless, so real were her fears that she took the precaution to look up the Shannon telephone number. If anything did happen so that she needed help, she could call there and one of those boys would surely get her in touch with Dana.

  Besides, she had asked the Lord God to help her and guide her and save her. Wouldn't He do it? Bruce had seemed to think He would.

  When Bella returned with the tray Coralie had only a soft low light burning, and the rest of the room was in shadow.

  "I'd like a fire on the hearth, Bella," she said. "It seems chilly here, and I've a bad headache. Suppose you send the boy with some wood and let him light a fire. And if anyone calls for me this evening you can say I've retired, that I'm not feeling well but you will come and see if I am awake. But don't let anyone come unannounced."

  "Yes, Miss Corinne!" said Bella, and she slipped away to give the order to the boy.

  So presently there was a pleasant fire on the hearth, and Coralie settled herself to her tray, trying to put away the thought of disturbing things and take this quiet reprieve that had come to her so unexpectedly.

  The supper wasn't bad, considering she hadn't ordered. There was a dainty cup of soup, a bit of the breast of chicken, an attractive salad, hot rolls, and a dish of hothouse strawberries, with coffee. Bella had lingered to ask if she would have wine, before she left, but Coralie shook her head. "Just coffee," she said, and the girl went away wondering again.

  Coralie herself wondered at her feeling. Somehow it seemed to her as if wine symbolized the things she was up against. She could not get away from the memory of Errol babbling outside her door the evening before, so under the influence of liquor that he could scarcely speak her name.

  As she sat there eating she realized that it was the first time in years that she had eaten alone this way with an empty house and no demands upon her, and she really enjoyed the sensation. For these few minutes at least she could call her soul her own, could know what to count on and have time to think and plan.

  After Bella had taken the tray she locked her door securely and luxuriated in the thought that nobody would have the right to interrupt her.

  But she grew a bit frightened as time went on and she heard the distant sound of the elevator, and voices. In a panic she turned out her lights and kept perfectly still when she heard Bella come quietly to her door and listen and then go away again. The dark curtain over the door would make her sure that she was asleep, and after a little she heard the voices again in the distance and the soft clang of the elevator going down, and then all was still.

  The noises of the city night went on, and by and by it grew dimmer as if the night were weary. She prayed again, with that strange awed feeling that she was not alone but God had come to company with her and she need not be afraid.

  Over on the other side of the city in that plain old-fashioned house, Valerie and Dana were talking in a cozy library lined with wonderful old books. Dana was telling Valerie a little about his strange saddened life, his wonderful father, the sorrowful little sister and unnatural mother. And then they were praying together for Coralie. Was it possible that something of their faith-winged petitions reached across and entered the big dark room where Coralie lay, and brought peace and hope to her frightened young soul? Certainly those prayers must have carried restraining power to the forces of darkness that were striving to form a battalion around that young soul and give her trouble enough to make her forget a great God about whom she had just been learning.

  Chapter 16

  "It is wonderful of you to take an interest in my sister," said Dana. "If she will only respond and be friendly I shall take new heart of hope. The little contact I've had with her is deeply disappointing, and frankly, I don't see much hope of getting into closer touch with her. My mother resents my coming, and if there is going to be any way to do anything for them besides praying, the Lord will have to open the door, for it is most decidedly closed to me just now."

  "He will," said Valerie, "when the right time comes. Remember when it was that the Lord Jesus healed the nobleman's son? 'The seventh hour.' And seven stands for perfect completion. Probably things are not ripe yet for God to work. But the seventh hour may strike at any time, and you may not even be conscious that God has worked. The nobleman didn't see any difference at first, you know. He had to go away and believe. And don't you think the Lord usually shuts us up to prayer first, anyway, when we get the idea of working for someone? I do. I've found it so again and again. Perhaps it's because we might begin to think we had done something ourselves. And besides, we must be filled with the Spirit when we finally have the opportunity to speak."

  Dana smiled and watched the lovely girl with deep appreciation.

  "You're right," he said reverently. "I find I always want to get right out on the field and go to work, even before I've taken much time to ask the Lord if that's what He wants me to do. I think sometimes I've covered a good deal of ground, and then it suddenly occurs to me that the Lord may not want me meddling in the matter at all, except by prayer."

  Valerie smiled.

  "I don't think there's much doubt that the Lord wants you on the field in this case," she said gently. "It seems a wonderful testimony that a deserted son should bear the message of God's love to a prodigal mother."

  "Well, but that's just it, I haven't," said Dana, dejected. "I really haven't had an opportunity. There hasn't been a particle of opening. Perhaps I didn't try hard enough at the beginning. Perhaps I didn't even intend to try. I went there belligerently, with the intention of carrying out my wonderful father's wishes and presenting his last letter to her, and as it turned out I had no opportunity to do more."

  "You will," said Valerie quietly.

  "I don't know," said Dana sadly. "She has made an issue of certain business affairs, for which she has no grounds whatever, and she is determined that I am trying to deceive her. I'm afraid there will never be an opportunity again. I think I didn't pray enough before I went."

  "There will be opportunity," said Valerie again very quietly. "When the Lord gets ready He will give you another opportunity to give your witness."

  Dana studied her sweet, earnest face thoughtfully.

  "But you don't believe that everybody is saved, do you?" he asked at last. "It might be that she has sinned away her day of grace."

  "That is true, of course," said the girl, "but that is something neither you nor I can say. Our business is to witness of the love of God for lost sinners and tell them His way of salvation. We have to leave the rest with God. I'm sure you will have another opportunity, so that your responsibility will be discharged, and you must pray that you'll be ready when it comes."

  His face kindled with a heavenly light as she spoke, and in a moment he lifted his eyes to hers and said earnestly: "I'll be ready."

  Just then the boys came in from
the outside world where they had been on some errand of mercy, Kirk and Ranald and Kendall, and they all gathered around the piano and sang. It was wonderful singing, and presently the whole family gathered from the different quarters of the great house to listen to it.

  "That is a rare young man!" said Father later when he and Mother were preparing for rest. "And a rare voice!"

  "Yes," said the mother quickly. "He's all that. But I do hope Vallie won't get her heart too set on him."

  Father Shannon paused in the act of pulling off his shirt and looked at her in astonishment.

  "Why, Mother!" he said in a startled voice. "Why, Mother, what's the matter with him?"

  "Oh, nothing's the matter with him at all," she laughed apologetically. "That's it. He's too wonderful, and I don't want our dear wonderful girl's heart broken."

  "And why should you think he would break her heart?"

  "Oh, I don't mean he would intend to do it of course, but I could see our girl's face while they were singing. It was all lit up with joy, and Father, I'm just afraid she's going to lose her heart to that handsome young fellow before she knows it, and anyone can see he's made for great things and a high place in the world. He's stepped right into a big job at the office, and he'll be in with all the great of the earth."

  "But, Mother, he's a Christian! Quite an unusual one, I heard Kirk say, and he looks it and sounds it, too."

  "Yes, I know," sighed the mother, getting out her little stock of the wisdom-of-this-world and sorting it over. "But there are degrees in social life even for a Christian, Father, and you know a man as good-looking as that isn't going to pick out just a plain little nobody with no money at all, to fall in love with!"

  "Well, now, Mother, I think you do him wrong judging him that way, making him out a man who would pick a girl because she had money. He doesn't look like that kind of a man to me at all. And besides, Mother, I don't know where he could find a prettier, better-behaved girl than our Valerie anywhere. There aren't any prettier eyes anywhere than hers, with all those black lashes curling away from the blue of her eyes. They look just like big blue pansies. They look just like your eyes, Mamma, when you were Vallie's age, and I'm not going to stand for you thinking there is any better girl for anybody on the face of this whole earth, than our Vallie-girl."