Astra Read online

  The city was wide and bright with Christmas lights. Great stars looked quietly down from heaven above on the tawdry super-lights of men, as if they were smiling on children’s efforts to bring brightness to the world. And Cameron was there beside her, watching her, their shoulders touching in pleasant camaraderie. He seemed so strong and big as they sat there together, and in spite of herself she had that odd little natural feeling with him as if they rightly belonged together. What was the matter with her? Was the whole evening going to be spoiled for her by this silly interest in a strange young man, and must she go through the happy hours continually reproving herself? How altogether foolish! She hadn’t done anything wrong or unmaidenly. Better forget it and have a good time.

  They talked about the lovely lights along the way that came and went in reds and greens and blues. They admired the great Santa Claus that stood like some sturdy giant at the crossroads. They heard distant chimes ringing in a far-off church, sounding above the traffic of the noisy street, telling of a living Christ above the effigy of a dead Santa Claus whom the world was half worshipping. They were halted by traffic again and again as they rode down the broad avenue toward the hall of music, and they sat quietly, studying people who hurried by on the street, studying faces of broad dowagers in cars, with sulky-husband escorts. It was all a motley crowd and made them feel more and more apart to themselves, off to have a gala time. They did not talk a great deal. It seemed enough just to be there together and say now and then a word or two.

  And then they had arrived, and they started with the throng up the stairs in close-packed columns, a part of a great group of music’s devotees. Or were they all, wondered Astra as she studied the quiet, peaceful faces of some of those who were of the company. Christians, maybe. They looked it. The music was definitely Christmas music. And people of the world generally were not particularly interested in definitely religious music. Of course, at Christmas! And by old masters! That would make a difference.

  When they were seated, Cameron enjoyed watching the audience with her, pointing out certain celebrities that she might not recognize, certain well-known men of the business and political world.

  And then the music began. A solo voice, soprano, pure and sweet. “Comfort ye my people, saith your God,” and there came a look into Astra’s face of yearning, wistfulness, and eager receiving, as if she felt her need of comfort and was reaching out to take it.

  Covertly, Cameron watched the girl he had brought and knew in his heart he had been right about her. She had a rare appreciation not only of music, but of the great theme it was built upon.

  And when the chorus burst forth in one grand prophetic strain, it seemed as though the girl’s face reflected the great proclamation of the words: “And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together; for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.”

  Cameron watched her changing expression. It was as if she were standing on some high hilltop above the valleys that were to be exalted, hearing the proclamation from the Lord Himself, and delight was breaking on her face, a great light in her eyes. As if she cared about this prophecy. As if it were something real that she felt was going to happen, and she might see it! Those words had never meant that to him. She must have something that he had never had. The Bible must be different to her. He had always taken it for granted that he believed it, but it had never seemed real to him. Never more than an uttering of a mere tradition. Undoubtedly, it meant more to her than it did to him. How did she get that utter belief, that feeling of reality? Was it something he could have?

  Then came the wonderful bass voice, speaking terrible words that if one really believed them must make the heart of the listener quail.

  “But who may abide the day of His coming; and who shall stand when He appeareth? For He is like a refiner’s fire.”

  The announcement was tremendous, and Cameron felt his own heart quiver with the thought. But looking quickly at Astra, he saw no hint of fear in her quiet face. It was evident that the coming of the Refiner held no terror for her. How did she get that way? Was she born so, or had she learned this great peace that seemed to belong to her? Sometime he would ask her, when they had opportunity to talk. He went on thinking about it as the music continued. How could anybody in the world be happy anymore, realizing what this meant and truly believing it?

  Then like a pageant, the world in its different classes and nations and peoples began to pass before him. People coming on and on through the ages to meet that time when the Refiner’s Fire should come to them, and they would have to meet it. Could anybody ever be happy with the realization of such a coming ahead?

  The contralto had taken up the song now, but the change of voice did not arrest his attention. It might have been just another angel proclaiming the great plans of a great God. He seemed under a kind of spell. He heard none of the words of that solo except the closing, so soft and tender and sweet that it fell like a blessing, a benediction from the hushed roof. “Emmanuel, God with us.” It left a tender touch in the air as it died away. There was gladness, too, almost too deep for utterance in the voice of the singer. And yet these words must mean the same God about whom the question had been asked: “Who shall stand when He appeareth?”

  Ah! There were some, then, to whom the thought “God with us” brought nothing but wonderful joy. What God was this? What joy to feel so sure one belonged to Him!

  Cameron felt himself being carried away by the thought, by the longing to share this marvelous joy that was evidently a possession of the girl who sat listening so intently beside him.

  Then the joyous-voiced chorus took up the strain again, onto that great triumphant climax: “Arise, shine, for thy light has come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.” Suddenly he felt that it had risen as he had never dreamed glory could rise. “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light.” That was himself! He drew a deep breath and tried to shake his mind out of this phantasm. It was all imagination, of course, an emotion that came from the lure of the music and majestic words, whose effect he could see in the face of this girl. Was that all it was with her, too?

  Then softly as an angel might have sung above a sleeping baby, the music began again. The great company of sweet high voices had hushed their notes till they were far away in the clouds, but coming down nearer, tenderly, exultantly, yet as if there might be tears in their voices—tears of joy. And now the tremendous words, “For unto us a Child is born!”

  And then the deep voices of the men in that same faraway tone, as though it floated from an upper world: “Unto us a Son is given!” Then softer, the altos; exquisitely, the tenors. And what was it all about? A Child is born! A Son given! They were all glad; and was this poor bound soul to have no part in the joy? Why should they all care about it, a Child born, a Son given? Christmas! Ah, surely, he cared, too!

  The answer to his why: “And the government shall be upon His shoulder, and His name—shall be called!” Now the whole company was singing, each word like a polished precious stone of great brilliancy, a stone in the setting of this golden music as if placed by a master workman.

  “Wonderful! Counselor! The mighty God! The everlasting Father! The Prince of Peace!”

  Ah! What the world needed! What the world was longing for! What each soul, like himself, craved more than all else beside. He had never known his own heart to cry out for anything as it now cried out for all this.

  And now the orchestra broke away into the pastoral symphony, and delicately the melody touched hidden suggestions of all that was left out of his own life—clear skies, sunny days, and the hushed, sweet peace of green fields far away from toil and sorrow. He could almost hear the murmur of night winds whispering among tall branches, softly touching tired grass and sleeping flowers, humming a little tune with a tinkling brook. The birds were stirring in their sleep. He thought he heard one twitter. The world, the noisy world, was a long way off from this quiet place, where the meadows were all alone with t
he birds and the tinkling brook. And yet he was awfully conscious of his own presence in that holy place the music had brought into being, on that starlit hillside.

  There were others waiting, too. Indeed, he was not sure if the whole world were not waiting with him to see what would happen. There were shepherds there, “abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night, and lo—!” Now he could see the night sky, midnight blue, with its dotting of stars, and the glory that suddenly shone. Ah! He could see the light on the angels’ faces, the frightened glory on the shepherds’ faces, the wonder! It was there in his own heart, too. The story seemed all very new to him. Scarcely any inkling of it had ever reached his heart before. As it was with many others, Christmas had not heretofore brought its real revelation. His childish idea of the day had been measured by the amount of property acquired, in sticks of candy, toys, and balls, in jewels cunningly set.

  Now all softly came the music, “He shall feed His flock like a shepherd.” He? Who? Ah! That same One of whom it had been said: “Who shall stand when He appeareth?” And yet this was a loving, tender Shepherd!

  And an invitation, “Come unto Him, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and He will give you rest.”

  He found there were tears gathering in his eyes, but he had lost the sense of others looking at him. They were under the spell of the music, the wonderful words.

  And suddenly a great proclamation burst forth in melody: “Behold, the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world!”

  So, this was what he was feeling. His own sins. He, a church member from his boyhood—yet sins! He had not thought of himself as a sinner. Quietly, the chorus answered his thought: “All we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned everyone to his own way.” Yes, he saw it now. It had been his way that he had gone, not God’s way, and yet he thought he was not a sinner!

  “And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all!” There was something almost terrible in the sweetness of this concluding sentence. What claim had he on the great Lord, that his iniquity should be laid upon Him? So this was the meaning of Christmas! Sins forgiven!

  His soul was bowed with his humiliation. He heard them lifting up the gates, that the Lord of Glory might come in, and his own soul reached to swing the rusty hinges and lift up the gate of his soul that the Lord of Glory might come into his heart. He heard them shout hallelujahs, and then the clear, sweet song of highest assurance: “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that at the latter day He shall stand upon the earth; and though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. For now is Christ Risen from the dead, and become the first fruits of them that slept!”

  Charles and Astra went out when it was over, quietly, scarcely speaking. Almost wondering that people could chatter as they did.

  “That program is too awfully long. I think they ought to cut out some, don’t you?” one pretty girl said to her escort. “I was simply bored to extinction. But the orchestra leader was swell, wasn’t he? So young looking, and so graceful.”

  “Yes,” said the man. “Rather stunning! I’ve always heard a lot about this oratorio and never had a chance to hear it before, but I don’t think I’d bother to go again, would you? It’s much, much too long. Yes, they certainly ought to cut it.”

  “I wonder,” said Astra quietly, as they passed out ahead of the two, “which part they would cut out?”

  “I’ll tell you,” said Cameron. “They would begin with ‘All we like sheep have gone astray.’ People like that don’t want to know they are sinners and need a Savior.”

  Astra looked at him astonished, and then a glad light came into her eyes.

  “Yes,” she said quickly. “You feel that way, too? Most people don’t take musical arrangements seriously, except from a musical standpoint.”

  “That’s true,” said Cameron. “But I feel tonight as if I had come a long way in understanding things that I’ve always taken for granted before and never done anything about.”

  His words made Astra sure about several questions she had been turning over in her mind. He was a Christian, then. Or in a fair way toward becoming one. That made her very happy.

  As they rose from their pleasant midnight lunch and started toward Astra’s hotel, Cameron said, “How about going to church somewhere tomorrow? Or had you some other plans?”

  “Oh no! I have no plans. Yes, that would be delightful. It’s always rather desolate to go to church alone when one is almost a stranger in a city.”

  “Then we’ll go. Have you some special church you like? To tell you the truth, I haven’t located anywhere yet. I’ve been sort of a religious tramp, dropping in here or there, and often not even dropping.” He finished with a half-shamed grin.

  “Well, of course, I don’t know how things are now, but there is a church not so far away from my place where my father and I used to go when we lived here. Of course, it may not be as fine as it used to be, but they were humble, sweet people, and I can’t think they have gone far astray in these few years. They seemed to have the spirit of truth among them.”

  “Then let’s go there, by all means!” said Cameron, with a smile. “It sounds good to me. I seem to yearn for something real after tonight!”

  Back in her room again, Astra smiled to herself. He was going to be a real kind of friend, perhaps. And if he was that, what did it matter if he did have other friends? There would at least be someone who would be just comradely, especially if he knew and loved her Lord.

  Chapter 11

  The Marmaduke Lesters were in their hotel resting a few minutes before it was time to get dressed for the wedding. Clytie was primping in her room, which adjoined her parents’, and the connecting door was standing open. Clytie always arranged to hear any family conversations if possible, lest she might miss something strategic.

  There came a knock at the door, and the bellboy presented a letter on a silver tray.

  “Spec’ld’liv’ry!” he said under his breath.

  Mr. Lester took the letter, gave the boy a tip, and shut the door.

  “Well, her letter’s come at last,” he announced grimly as he tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter. “Airmail, too. I declare, the service here isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. This has taken several hours longer than it should have.”

  “Well, I’m certainly glad it’s come before the wedding,” sighed Miriam. “I shouldn’t have been able to enjoy a minute of it, with all this anxiety on me. It isn’t like Astra not to have realized how she would upset me just before an important occasion.”

  “It seems to me you better save your rejoicing until you’ve read the letter,” said her husband, frowning at the paper he held in his hand. “You can’t tell what she’ll do next. Not after this performance.”

  “At least it’s better to know for a certainty.”

  “I’m not so sure of that either. This is certainly the smuggest letter I’ve ever read. It’s almost as smug as that telegram. Listen to this.

  “ ‘I am sorry to have to write this under these circumstances, for I did not want to talk about anything disturbing while you were on a holiday—’ ”

  He paused and looked up.

  “You see, she knows well enough that she’s upsetting you. She’s not half so holy as you try to make her out to be.”

  Then his eyes went down to the letter again:

  “‘But since Duke’s telegram—’”

  “Duke’s telegram! Marmaduke Lester, is that my letter? Was it addressed to me?” asked his wife, springing from the bed and going over to look at the letter. “Yes, it is! And you’re reading it! You have no right to do that! She’s my cousin, not yours, and there might have been something quite private in it!”

  “Private from me, your husband? Well just for that, I’ll read it through first before you can see it. Lie down again, and I’ll read it out loud. We’d have had to talk it over anyway, and besides, this is my affair. It was I who sent her that telegram, and this is evidently her answe
r to it. Miriam, if you want to hear this letter, you better lie down and compose yourself, for I’ll not read another word until you get quiet.”

  By this time Clytie, with her hairbrush in her hand, had come and stood wide-eyed in the doorway. After a little more wrangling, Miriam, because she knew her husband’s stubborn nature, and because her eye was on the clock and it was high time they began to dress, subsided, growing anger in her eyes, and dropped upon the bed. Duke went on reading.

  After he had read the letter, Duke went and stood at the window, staring out with a furious expression on his face.

  “So!” he almost snorted, turning around at last to vent his anger upon his wife as if she had been the instigator of all this. “So! I’m not Astra’s guardian! You’ve been telling me all this time that because I was her guardian we had to have her come and live with us. And now she says I’m not her guardian at all, and I have no right to tell her to come back. I certainly will look into this! I’ll go right away and hunt up that contemptible Sargent and make them show those papers that they are boasting about having! Papers that Astra’s father had made out! That was a contemptible thing to do, when he knew she would have to live off of us and we would have to stand all her peculiarities and tantrums—”

  “Marmaduke! Stop!” cried his wife. “You know Astra hadn’t any peculiarities and never had tantrums! It’s you that have a tantrum now or you never would say that Astra was dependent on us. You know she paid her board, far more than it ever cost to keep the poor child!”

  “Well, I’m going east on the evening plane. Telephone downstairs, Clytie, and find out what time it leaves. I’m going at once! You’ll have to pack my suitcase while I get dressed. I won’t have time to do both.”

  “Duke! You can’t do that! You’ve got to go to the wedding! That’s what we came all the way out here for, and left that poor child alone, just with servants in the house! And now you can’t go off without attending it. Your people will never forgive you if you do that. Do get calm. One day more or less won’t make any difference. Wait till after the wedding, anyway, if you must go and make a great mess of things. Astra isn’t one to say a thing unless she knows, and she says she’s seen the papers! You’ll feel like two cents if you go roaring all that distance and then find out you aren’t her guardian at all!”