Part 4 (1/2)
”You would not be afraid of your father, would you? Well, G.o.d is my Father, my reconciled Father;” And then, after a moment, he added: ”It I were not at peace with him, and had reason to think that he was angry with me, then it would be different. Then I suppose I should be afraid; at least I think it would be reasonable to be.”
Flossy spoke out of the fullness of a troubled heart:
”I don't understand it at all. I never wanted to, either, until just to-night; but now I want to feel as those people did when they sang that hymn.”
Marion came quickly up from the other side.
”Flossy,” she said, with sudden sharpness, ”come over here and watch the track of the boat through the water.” And as Flossy mechanically obeyed, she added: ”What a foolish, heedless little mouse you are! I wonder that your mother let you go from her sight. Don't you know that you mustn't get up conversations with strange young men in that fas.h.i.+on?”
Flossy had not thought of it at all: but now she said a little drearily, as if the subject did not interest her:
”But I have often held conversations with strange young men at the dancing-hall, you know, and danced with them, too, when _everything_ I knew about them was their names, and generally I forgot that.”
Marion gave a light laugh.
”That is different,” she said, letting her lip curl in the darkness over the folly of her own words. ”What its proper at a dance in very improper coming home from prayer-meeting, don't you see?”
”What do you think!” she said the minute they were in their rooms.
”There was I, leaning meditatively over the boat, thinking solemnly on the truths I had heard, and that absurd little water-proof morsel was having a flirtation with a nice young man. Here is one of the fruits of the system! What on earth was he saying to you, Flossy?”
”Don't!” said Flossy, for the second time that evening. ”He wasn't saying any harm.”
The whole thing jarred on her with an inexpressible and to her bewildering pain. She had always been ready for fun before.
”That girl is homesick or something,” Marion said, as she and Eurie went to their rooms, leaving Flossy with Ruth, who prefered her as a room-mate to either of the others because she _could_ keep from talking.
”I haven't the least idea what is the matter, but she has been as unlike herself as possible. I hope she isn't going to get sick and spoil our fun. How silly we were to bring her, anyway. The baby hasn't life enough to see the frolic of the thing, and the intellectual is miles beyond her. I suspect she was dreadfully bored this evening. But, Eurie, there is going to be some splendid speaking done here. I shouldn't wonder if we attended a good many of the meetings.”
CHAPTER V.
UNREST.
Flossy went to the window and stood looking out into the starless night.
The pain in her heart deepened with every moment.
”If there was only some one to ask, some one to say a word to me,” she sighed to herself. ”It seems as though I could never go to sleep with this feeling clinging to me. I wonder what can be the matter? Perhaps I am sick and am going to die. It feels almost like that, and I am not fit to die--I am afraid. I wonder if Ruth Erskine is afraid to die? I have almost a mind to ask her. I wonder if she ever prays? People who are not afraid of death are always those who pray. Perhaps she will to-night. I feel as though I wanted to pray: I think if I only knew how it would be just the thing to do. If she kneels down I mean to go and kneel beside her.”
These were some of the thoughts that whirled through her brain as she stood with her nose pressed to the gla.s.s. But Ruth did not pray. She went around with the composed air of one who was at peace with all the world; and when her elaborate preparations for rest were concluded she laid her head on her pillow without one thought of prayer.
”Why in the name of sense don't you come to bed?” she presently asked, surveying with curious glance the quiet little creature whose face was hidden from her, and who was acting entirely out of accordance with anything she had ever seen in her before. ”What can you possibly find to keep you gazing out of that window? It can't be called star-gazing, for to my certain knowledge there isn't a single star visible; in fact, I should say nothing could be visible but the darkness.”
For a minute Flossy made no answer. She did not move nor turn her head; but presently she said, in a low and gentle voice:
”Ruth, should you be afraid to die?”
”To die!” said Ruth; and I have no means of telling you what an astonished face and voice she had. ”Flossy s.h.i.+pley, what do you mean?”
”Why, I mean _that_,” said Flossy, in the same quiet tone. ”Of course we have got to die, and everybody knows it; and what I say is, should you be afraid if it were to-night, you know?”