“Yes, even if I don’t know what it is, because I know my Father knows, and He’ll understand, so He’ll know what I’m talking about even if I don’t, and that’s enough for me.”
“Grand,” said the boy, “you’re wonderful! You’ve been next to God in my life. I think even if everything went wrong sometimes, I’d have to believe, because of the way God let your letter that your nurse wrote answer my prayer when I didn’t know what to do.”
It was two days later that a letter came from Margaret, but Revel was not there.
Chapter 17
For some unexplained reason Aunt Carlotta got a spell of conscience. She decided that she wasn’t seeing enough of her only sister’s only child, and so she sent a most urgent letter to Margaret, begging that she would spend the summer with her and enclosing a check (generous for her) that she supposed would cover the largest amount her niece could possibly earn for the summer. Somehow there seemed to be an underlying appeal in the letter that made Margaret think twice before she answered it.
Her natural impulse would have been to decline and to go on and take a job, for there were several she could have had, but there was one little phrase in the letter that made her wonder if she was right in doing so, if this were not perhaps something that her mother would have wished her to do.
“You are my only niece,” she had written, “and I’m terribly disappointed not to be seeing more of you.” Then farther on she added, “Besides, there’s a question or two I’d like to ask you about something you said once. It sounded like your mother, as she used to talk. I’m getting old now, you know, and there are things that people should know, I suppose, when they haven’t much longer to live.”
So Margaret wrote that she would come.
And yet Aunt Carlotta didn’t seem much changed when she got there. She was as flippant as ever, and she began to plan about having some young folks over very soon so that Margaret would feel at home. Of course Margaret never had felt at home with that particular set of young people, but she had come prepared to accept happily whatever came, and so she smiled and greeted them all like long-lost brothers and sisters, even including Bailey’s returned ash-blond, who stared at her as if she were an interloper.
So Margaret came back to Crystal Beach and went to her own room. In due time she opened the upper bureau drawer and saw a package addressed to herself in a familiar handwriting.
She caught her breath, and her heart gave a little leap, actual tears springing to her eyes. Why, when did this come? Was it something she had left behind when she went away? But no, that could not be. And it was not an empty box. The string was still uncut. She looked at the postmark and suddenly sat down weakly in the nearest chair. It was Christmas, a year ago. The first Christmas after she went to the university! Oh, had it been here ever since? How could Aunt Carlotta do that to her? Oh, surely she hadn’t been told it was there. It must have been the blundering act of some servant.
But she had not time to let her temper boil over now. She was too eager to see what was in the box. Besides, she had been sent to get ready for dinner, and there was company coming. Some of them had already arrived.
She cut the string of the package and opened it, finding another box beneath with a card bearing a message. A message from Revel! Then he had written, and it had been lying here all this time, unanswered, too, and he probably had thought it strange of her not to write.
She read the little card eagerly. It was a very short message, just to accompany the gift, but it sounded so like him, casual, yet real, as he had been always since she knew him. She studied the words through a blurring of tears.
Dear Margaret: This seemed like you, so I am sending it to you and wishing you a happy Christmas and a glad New Year.
Yours,
Revel
She put her face down and touched it with her tear-wet eyes and then touched it gently with her lips. Dear Revel! Was it wrong for her even to think that of him? She had so few real friends!
Then suddenly she was consumed with a desire to see what he thought seemed like her, and she opened the spring of the little leather box, and there was the bracelet. Such a lovely thing! She exclaimed aloud over it. And she had been all this time without thanking him for it and thinking he had forgotten her. She closed her eyes in a quick prayer of thankfulness. She slipped the bracelet over her hand and watched the rosy stones twinkle in the light. What a beautiful gift, and how happy it had made her. Then she heard the distant tinkle of a bell and knew that dinner was ready.
She sprang up quickly, pushed the boxes and paper back in the drawer, and hurried over to her suitcase.
She chose a simple white jersey dress to wear, clipped the two little rosy bows in her hair, the bows she had kept for remembrance since ever that day she had met Revel, and with a glance down at her bracelet, hurried to the dining room.
They noticed the bracelet almost at once, it was such a lovely thing, and so unique!
“Oh, where did you get a thing like that? What is it?” the girls asked.
“Why, that is rose quartz,” said Aunt Carlotta. “Was that something of your mother’s? I didn’t know she ran to jewelry. And it looks like platinum. It certainly is quaint. Was it hers?”
“No, Aunt Carlotta, it was a Christmas present from a friend.”
“A friend? Mmmmm!” said one of the girls. “I told you, Mrs. Gurlie, she would have found someone quite absorbing in that university. Who is he, Margaret? Why didn’t you bring him down with you? Call him up, and make him come. We want to see your friend!”
“Sorry,” said Margaret, smiling quite coolly. “It isn’t from anyone in the university; it comes from the East, and I didn’t say it was from a man. You certainly jump to conclusions. Aunt Carlotta, why didn’t you tell me that package was here? I even called you up to see if there wasn’t some mail for me, and here it’s been all this time. It was sent to me a year ago last Christmas!” Margaret covered the appalling treachery of her aunt’s indifference by a merry smile, as if it were somehow a pleasant joke.
“Why, what do you mean, Margaret? Where did you find the bracelet? I never saw it before, I am sure.”
“I found it in the upper bureau drawer, and the postmark was quite plain on it, so I know it came long ago. The thing I mind most is that I should seem to be so ungrateful, not sending a thank you for it.”
“Oh, my dear!” said Aunt Carlotta, the slow red stealing dully up under her rouge. “I’m sure you must be mistaken. I really don’t remember any mail coming for you. Probably one of the maids took it from the postman and put it away for you. Wasn’t that the time we were expecting you to come for Christmas holidays? Yes, that was it, and so you see, nobody was to blame. It was just one of those things that happen sometimes. I’m really sorry, but I should think you could easily explain.”
“I suppose so,” said Margaret quietly, and no more was said, but Margaret’s mind was roving off from the cheerful company, thinking what she would say to Revel, and how she could explain, tell him of her sorrow without showing her heart too much. Two years! It seemed awful. And how foolish she had been not to have written him a pleasant little note sometime and told him where she was. She should not have been so shy, as if it would matter to him so much what she was doing.
Well, it was done now, and she could explain the whole thing. Perhaps already he had forgotten her. But at least she must explain and apologize.
When they were all gone she kissed her aunt good night and asked to be excused.
“I’m rather tired,” she said with a smile. “You won’t mind, will you?”
“Why no, my dear, of course not. You’re going to stay all summer, of course, and we’ll have lots of chances to talk. And oh, by the way, I’m terribly sorry about that bracelet. Katie says I told her to put that box in the drawer, and of course I forgot it, and she thought I had sent it to you. Was he a very special friend?”
Margaret’s eyes looked past her, very far away. Then she smiled a bit sadly.
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“Yes, rather, Aunt Carlotta. But don’t worry about it. I’ll try to explain, if it isn’t too late.” Then she hurried into her room to stop the downfall of tears she knew were quite near the surface, and her aunt looked after her, puzzled.
“A very odd little girl,” she decided. “Now, I wonder what she meant by that? ‘If it isn’t too late’? How could it be too late, a little trinket like that? Does she think somebody else may have stolen some country lover away during her absence?”
But that night before she slept, and tired as she was, Margaret wrote her letter to Revel.
Crystal Beach
Dear Revel:
I don’t know what you think of me, perhaps the same thing I have been trying not to think of you, that I didn’t want to write to you anymore. Please don’t think that. It isn’t so.
You see, I went away from Crystal Beach. I couldn’t stand the worldliness here, and there was no suitable school or college. So I went to the university. I’m sending you a circular so you can see what it’s like. Not that I got into a particularly heavenly atmosphere, for it wasn’t, but it was the best I could do for the small amount of money I could spend, and it didn’t cost much to go there.
I left word that my mail was to be forwarded, and every little while I would write to my aunt to know if there wasn’t any mail, and once she said no, nothing but a college catalog, which she threw in the wastebasket, because she knew I already had a college. I have since wondered if you might have sent one of your catalogs to me. But it is gone now, so I have no means of knowing.
I haven’t been back here since I left, until today. My aunt wrote she wanted to talk to me, and she said it in such a way that I thought maybe I should come. So I’m here again, at least for the summer, and I shall never again trust to having anybody forward my mail. For when I went up to my room and opened the bureau drawer there, I found the wonderful package from you. I was so happy I almost cried, for I really have been very lonely and have missed your pleasant friendliness, but my mother taught me a girl should never run after a boy, nor tag onto him, and I knew you were busy, and thought probably you felt you had no time to write letters to girls, and besides, now you had your grandfather and your college, I didn’t think you would need me for a friend anymore. So that’s why I didn’t write. I know that was silly. I should have written to say where I was, or I might have sent you a Christmas card or something, but maybe I was a little too proud. Anyway, I didn’t, and now I am ashamed. To think this lovely wonderful bracelet has been here almost two years and I never saw it, nor had a chance to tell you how I love it and how I thank you for it. It is the prettiest bracelet I ever saw, and I’m enjoying it a lot. Can’t you hear the little rosy balls tinkling as I write? They make such a lovely sound. Oh, Revel, it was such a beautiful thing for you to give me, and it breaks my heart that I couldn’t have thanked you for it right away. Can you ever forgive me and take me on for a friend again?
There followed a brief account of her work in the university, and then she went on.
I have not had much time for anything but study, for I was taking a very stiff course and had to work hard. So I didn’t make a lot of friends, and I was pretty lonesome. And two summers I have been a sort of nursery governess for three little girls when their parents were on vacation. But now my aunt has begged me to come for the summer, so I’m back here, and if I hadn’t come I never would have found my bracelet, nor known that it was my fault and not yours that I didn’t hear from you anymore. I’m so very glad I came.
Now I want to know if Grand is all right and whether you have had further trouble about your father and the stepmother? Oh, I hope not! I do hope the college has proved as nice as you thought it would be in the beginning.
Please let me know about yourself right away and whether you will ever forgive me. I shall be miserable about that until I hear from you.
Your old friend, the girl of the woods,
Margaret
When Margaret got into bed at last, she lay down very happy, happier than she had been for many months.
It was the next day that her aunt got around to talking with her.
“Sit down there in that big chair, Margaret. I want to ask you a few questions. You see, I haven’t been very well, and I have been sort of uneasy.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Aunt Carlotta.”
“Well, I presume it’s nothing. Just a little high blood pressure, I guess, and of course that pulls on the heart. I really don’t suppose it’s anything at all, and the doctor is unduly alarmed, but it seemed to me that now, while I’m a little upset about my state, would be the time to get a few things settled that will make me feel fully prepared for anything. I wanted to ask you, Margaret, if you were around your mother much during the last days of her life.”
“Oh yes, indeed,” said the girl, with a tender accent. “I was with her as much as I could be during the last weeks of her illness. I wouldn’t have been away from her for anything.”
“Well, I though you would likely do that,” said the aunt, with satisfaction. “You are such a conscientious child. Was it a very gruesome, unpleasant experience for you, to be near a person who was slowly dying?”
“Unpleasant? Gruesome? Why, no, Aunt Carlotta, it was like being just outside the gates of heaven and watching to be sure to catch a glimpse of the glory when the gates opened to let her in. It was beautiful!”
The aunt watched her closely.
“Well, was your mother very unhappy? Did she cry about having to die?”
“Why, no, she was glad to go. She was very happy about it. Sometimes she would smile so sweetly!”
“Well, she always was a sunny little thing, but not everybody has a nature like that. Most people are afraid to die.”
“Oh, my mother wasn’t afraid to die. She said she was going home to be with the Lord Jesus. And sometimes she would waken from a little sleep and say she thought she had a glimpse of His glory in her sleep and it was going to be even more beautiful than she had dreamed.”
“Oh, yes,” sighed the aunt, yawning a little, “she always was a most imaginative child. But I never could be like that. I never had any imagination at all.”
“Oh, but, Aunt Carlotta, it wasn’t imagination! Mother loved the Lord and belonged to Him. She had always longed to see Him, and she was happy to go.”
“Happy to go away and leave you, her pretty little daughter, all alone for years and years in a wicked world?”
“Why, of course she was sorry to leave me, but she knew I would come to her by and by. And she wasn’t leaving me alone, she was leaving me with God. She knew I was saved and that I would be taken care of. She trusted me to God’s care. Besides, she was going to see Father, and my baby brother who died when he was only a year old, and Grandmother, and her dear father, and a lot of others.”
“Oh yes, I know that story. I was brought up on it,” said Aunt Carlotta impatiently. “But somehow it never appealed to me to sit down and imagine a lot of things and try to work myself up to the point where I could believe it all. You needn’t tell me that everyone is alive. I really couldn’t get any comfort out of all that. I’d have to see to believe it.”
Margaret looked at her aunt thoughtfully, with a tender little smile. She was learning other reasons now for her coming back to Crystal Beach besides the bracelet. She was finding out that God had some work for her, a message to pass on to another soul, and her heart was crying so softly, Dear God, teach me how to answer her.
Then she lifted up sweet eyes to the questioner and said, “But all that would be quite different if you were saved. If you really knew the Lord Jesus.”
“Saved! Saved! There’s that horrid old phrase that I used to hear so much at home when I was a girl. It always used to make me shudder. I didn’t want to be saved! I didn’t need saving! I hadn’t done anything!”
“Oh, but you do need saving,” said Margaret quietly. “It’s that that makes you so unhappy at the thought of death. You won’t own you need sav
ing, and yet you know you do. You won’t do anything about it because you don’t wish to acknowledge that there was any sin or wrong in your life.”
“Well now, what sin have I committed, I should like to know? I have always been kind to everybody, I have never overworked my servants, nor underpaid them, and I’ve always given to good charitable causes—”
Margaret caught her breath. She could not help but remember the words of the Pharisee, “I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess.” But the shrill, complaining voice went on. “I’ve even been to church often, although I never liked it, it bored me terribly, and I never was unkind to my husband’s relatives, although they were sometimes very unkind to me.”
“But it isn’t things like that that save you,” Margaret said earnestly.
“No? Well, what does then?”
“Why, accepting God’s Son Jesus Christ as your sin-bearer, your Savior.”
“Well, how for mercy’s sake could you do that? I don’t know what you mean, anyway, and I never could believe that. I don’t believe that anybody else can save me. I think you have to save yourself. It sounds like nonsense to me.”
“But it isn’t nonsense, Aunt Carlotta. God says that to go to heaven we must have righteousness and no sin. And we have only sin and no real righteousness. But God really wanted us to come to heaven with Him, so He came down—His Son Jesus Christ died—and took all our sin. God says He piled all the sin of all the world on Christ, and He gives us all His righteousness, if we’ll take it. Don’t you see that under these conditions you couldn’t save yourself, any more than a man in the old days could get himself out of debtor’s prison for owing money when he hadn’t anything to pay with? If you were bankrupt and couldn’t get out till you paid your debts, how could you ever get out unless someone else paid them for you? That’s what the Lord Jesus Christ did for us. If you would only believe that He has, you would see. And He brings such peace and joy when once you put your trust in Him.”
“How do you know?” said the aunt unbelievingly. “You’re scarcely more than a child.”
The Girl of the Woods Page 17