The Seventh Hour Read online

  "No one ever cared for me like Jesus--" sang on the glorious voice, and everyone who heard it was convinced of the reality of that friendship with Jesus about which he was singing.

  And the sister, beginning to sense what this brother must have suffered through the years, how lonely he had been without a mother, felt sudden compunction for the part she unwittingly must have played in that suffering. What a lonely little boy he must have been! Yet, he had that wonderful father about which he had told her. She hadn't had a father. She had had a mother--yes, if one could call Lisa a mother. But she had felt a lack.

  Coralie was really thinking. Perhaps she had never in the whole of her life done so much thinking as she had been forced to do during the last two days!

  Again those tender notes of the piano made exquisite interlude, while the words dug deep into each listening soul reechoing with the soft melody.

  "Every day He comes to me with new assurance,"

  sang Dana taking up the story again, and the look on his face made real the words--

  "More and more I understand His words of love;

  But I'll never know just why He came to save me,

  Till someday I see His blessed face above.

  No one ever cared for me like Jesus,

  There's no other friend so kind as He;

  No one else could take the sin and darkness from me,

  O how much He cared for me!"

  As the last notes died away there was such a stillness in the audience as Coralie at least had never experienced.

  Bruce with bowed head was praying for the girl by his side, praying as it seemed he had never prayed for anyone before, and as the song finished and he lifted his head he glanced at her furtively and saw a look in her face that filled his heart with awe. It was the look of a hungry soul, hearing of food.

  The message that followed that song was simple and powerful and unlike anything Coralie had ever heard, especially from the lips of a young man. She listened intently and now and then would suddenly look up wide-eyed at Bruce with a kind of question in her glance, as if she wondered if he agreed with the startling things that were being said. It is safe to say that Coralie had never in her whole life listened so long to words about death, and hell, and heaven, and life. But this was new and frightening and it called her entirely out of herself, to consider grave matters that she had always before now ignored.

  Bruce watched her unobtrusively, and prayed, thanking God for the plain direct way in which Kirk Shannon was telling of salvation. Perhaps this girl of the world would never have another opportunity to hear it again, but she certainly was getting it now, and taking it in, too. Of course, that might not mean that she was accepting it. Yet such things had happened before.

  "And now," said Kirk after he had closed his brief message with a tender prayer, "I see another old friend down there. Bruce Carbury, come on up and help Dana and me sing something."

  Bruce gave a startled look at Kirk and then a troubled one down at the girl by his side. He couldn't go and leave that girl down there in a strange audience alone, could he?

  But her face was blazing with interest.

  "Go on," she said. "I want to hear you!"

  "All right," he smiled. "Sorry to leave you alone." And then he strode past her and up the aisle.

  How those three voices blended together! It was beautiful. It was gripping, and they sang the words as if they were speaking.

  "O listen to our wondrous story,

  Counted once among the lost;

  Yet, one came down from heaven's glory

  Saving us at awful cost!

  Who saved us from eternal loss?

  Who but God's Son upon the cross?

  What did He do? He died for you!

  Where is He now? Believe it thou,

  In heaven interceding."

  The story was all new to Coralie. Any Gospel before this that had sifted through the world to her mind was so hazy that it had meant nothing whatever to her. With the same wonder that she had watched the whole meeting, she listened now as those beautiful voices brought out the full story. On to the last verse:

  "Will you surrender to this Savior?"

  Then this was not something from which she was barred. She sat a little forward on her chair, and it seemed to her that Bruce was looking straight at her as his deep bass blended with the other voices, and when he said, "He will save you, save you now!" it seemed as if he were offering her something tangible that she might take, too. She caught her breath, and the look in her eyes grew wistful. Not that she realized the fullness of what they were singing about. She was too utterly ignorant for that. But she was greatly touched and vaguely yearning for something she had not known, which evidently her brother had.

  When the meeting was out and while the throngs of people swarmed around her, talking eagerly, she studied their faces. Common people they were, most of them, though there were a few who were fashionably dressed. Three or four girls had heavily made-up faces. Coralie sensed that these didn't seem to belong. They had not that look of utter joy and peace the others had, the look that marked her brother and his two friends. She wasn't at all sure now that she wanted to be like these people. There would likely be a lot to give up, and the wonder might go away at nearer intimacy. Yet what, exactly, was it that she would mind giving up? When she tried to think, she couldn't honestly put her finger on one thing she minded surrendering. Any price would be worth paying for real joy and peace.

  But then, if all this they had been singing and talking about was real, why wasn't the whole world in search of it, instead of frittering away its time in nonsense that didn't really bring lasting joy?

  Suddenly she looked up and there came Bruce down the aisle toward her, his eyes meeting hers. A bright smile lit up his face, an almost tender twinkle came to his eyes. He looked as he had when he sang those words, "You too shall come to know His favor." And that wistful eagerness sprang into her own eyes again.

  "Sorry to have left you alone," he said in a low tone as he took his stand beside her.

  "Oh, I didn't mind," she said, almost shyly. No one who knew her would have believed that Coralie could ever be shy. Then she brightened and lifted her eyes with a look of sincerity in them.

  "I like to have you sing! You have a gorgeous voice!" she said.

  He gave her a quick surprised look.

  "I'm glad you felt that way," he said gravely. "I was afraid we were letting you in for something you wouldn't understand or enjoy. Something you might not like at all."

  And then people closed in about them and began to talk to Bruce, and finally to her as if she belonged to them, too. It was some minutes before Dana and Kirk and Valerie Shannon came down the aisle and were introduced to her, and they all started toward the door.

  "Now," said Valerie Shannon with one of her engaging smiles, "of course you're all coming to our house for a little while. My sister made a huge pan of delicious fudge this afternoon, and we can eat it and get acquainted. I've heard Kirk talk so much about Dana Barron that I must get to know you all. Will you come?"

  And so they walked out into the clear cool night air and down the street. Bruce was walking by Coralie's side as if it were his business to care for her. Valerie Shannon was walking with Dana.

  Chapter 8

  Back at Lisa's apartment a party was in progress. It was because of the prospect of this that Coralie had come off by herself hunting her newfound brother, hoping that perhaps she might persuade him into taking her to something entertaining.

  Her reason for wanting to escape the party was because Lisa had invited two men that her daughter detested, and the girl was determined not to have anything further to do with them.

  The older of them, Ivor Kavanaugh, was Lisa's latest admirer, a tall foreign-looking man with an offensive manner and a fondness for gambling. The younger was his nephew, Errol Hunt, a young man with baggy eyelids, and much given to drink. He had been pursuing Coralie assiduously for the past few weeks. The ide
a seemed to be that the uncle would marry Lisa and Errol would marry her daughter. Lisa seemed quite willing, but her daughter did not care for the arrangement. Only a few days before Lisa had come out in the open and told her daughter that such was her plan and that it was about the best she could hope to do. Lisa had heard that both men were fabulously wealthy.

  Errol Hunt was not in any sense good-looking, and he drank too much on all occasions. He was constantly taking for granted that Coralie--Corinne, he called her--belonged to him, thus driving other old friends away. He was an insolent cub, and he sometimes treated Coralie as if she were the dust under his feet. Then when he had been drinking too much, he would fawn upon her and come whining to her for companionship, like a naughty child who wanted to be spoiled and played with.

  At first all this rather amused the girl, but now, since she had begun to see that they were using Lisa as a good way out of their gambling debts, constantly borrowing money from her and neglecting to pay, she had rebelled. They had had a near-quarrel about it that afternoon when a lot of things had come out into the open.

  "If you are going to marry Ivor, I'm done with you," she had told Lisa, and Lisa had narrowed her eyes and looked at her daughter speculatively.

  "What about you marrying Ivor's nephew?" she had asked, almost like a taunt.

  "Nothing doing!" said the girl with her chin in the air. "I know how to hang on to my money if you don't yours," she said. "Those two are just grafters."

  "How ridiculous!" said Lisa with a cold look and a freezing voice. "Ivor is very wealthy! He has more money than you ever dreamed of having."

  "Oh, yes?" said the girl disrespectfully. "How is it he has to borrow off you all the time? How is it he spends all his time gambling, if he has to borrow money to pay his gambling debts?"

  "How absurd. Child, you know nothing of finance. These are debts of honor he must pay at once. He will have no trouble in paying them back when he gets this foreign-exchange business straightened out. You are rather outrageous, you know, talking that way of my best friends."

  "I wonder." said the girl insolently. "I just wonder if you didn't have any better discernment when you ran away and left my father than you are showing today. You certainly didn't pick well the second time. And really, I don't see what you see in this owl-eyed ape. He flatters you, that's all. I should think you had had enough of getting married anyway. And besides you'd have to get a divorce first. You're not sure your present husband is dead. No, if you are going to pull off that stunt again I'm leaving, understand? I'll have no more fathers messing around with my bank account, and what's more I'm not lending you any more money, either, not if it's going to those two crooks."

  Lisa had narrowed her eyes again, this time almost in alarm, for it wasn't but a couple of days since she had called up the bank and told them that her daughter wanted several hundred dollars paid to her other's account, and she had been daringly drawing checks upon it since. Of course, she felt the girl was paying no attention to her own financial affairs. Her father had put the money in trust till the child was eighteen, and it was but recently that Coralie had been taking any account of her money. She had dreamily hoped that the girl would continue of such mind, at least until she was married.

  "Take care, you young serpent," said her mother. "You may go a little too far someday in your pleasantries."

  "Yes, and how about you?" snapped Coralie.

  "Well, how about me? Am I accountable to you?"

  "It's a pity you weren't accountable to somebody," said the daughter. "If you go and marry that big goof, you'll wish you hadn't, that's all."

  "Look here, young lady, you'd better take care! You may have to eat those words someday. The 'big goof' has a nephew who is richer by far than he is. You can't afford to let that slip through your fingers."

  "Can't I? You watch me!" flung back the girl, and she went to her room, slamming the door after her and locking it.

  An hour afterward Coralie had stolen out quietly while her mother was dressing for dinner, and gone to hunt her brother, angrier than she had ever been before. She had been looking at her monthly statement, which the mail had brought that afternoon, and had discovered Lisa's pilfering. Item after item helped to open her eyes. Experience had taught her that when Lisa juggled her bank account she had something planned ahead, or was conducting some sort of an enterprise that she didn't want to tell her about. Sometimes it was heavy gambling. Sometimes it was some admirer who wanted to borrow money. Coralie had come to the point where she felt it was time to take a stand for her own rights. There seemed to be no one with whom she could take refuge who would not question her, so she sought out the strange new brother whom she did not understand.

  On the way she decided to take her money away entirely from the bank where it had been in trust during her minority, and put it where Lisa could not find it. She certainly did not intend to finance another foolish marriage for Lisa. She was old enough now to run her own affairs, and she intended to do so. That was why she had been so insistent upon going with Dana.

  But as the evening progressed she had gradually forgotten all about the cause for her being in this strange new environment, and had grown interested in studying everything that went on.

  In between the other things that drew her attention she was greatly impressed by Bruce. Furtively she studied him when he was not aware of it, as from long practice she well knew how to do. And she could not help comparing him with Errol Hunt. Those heavy dark bags under Errol's small selfish eyes, the thick sensuous lips, were such a contrast to the clear-cut face of Bruce Carbury, whose wide dark eyes set in the lean strong face, heavy copper hair, and firm pleasant lips, all bespoke a man of intellect and courage and conviction. Not that she named those things. She simply realized that this was a face that was pleasing to her, a face that showed no selfishness and had honesty and sincerity written all over it. When she thought of marrying Errol as her mother had suggested she shuddered from head to foot, and her eyes snapped fire. And yet, if she stayed in the life she was now living, and Lisa should be determined to go on with her present evident intentions to marry Ivor, she would have to in self-defense. Also, if things went on this way she would have no money left, and neither would her mother. And from what Dana had said there was going to be no more forthcoming from the dead father.

  That was why she had sought out Dana. She wanted to get these things clearly arranged in her mind and know the truth about everything.

  Just supposing that was true and her father had left no money? And supposing Lisa should lose her head and marry that man Ivor and he should somehow get control of the money Coralie's father had put in trust for her, what would she, Coralie, do? Heavens! She would have to get a job like any common working girl, and Lisa would never stand for that! She would have to leave Lisa if it came to that. She could never put herself under the control of those two, Ivor and Errol!

  Coralie had been thinking this over on her way to find her brother. She hadn't any idea of telling Dana about it. She had not then got so far in trusting him that she wanted him to know her private affairs.

  But the meeting had driven all these thoughts away, and as she went into the cold night air and a memory of her earlier walk came to her, it seemed very far away and unreal. It was as if she had just now been dwelling for a little while on the borders of some sort of heaven and suddenly had to come down to earth again. The rest of this evening wouldn't last long. They were going to the musician-girl's house to eat some fudge, and then she would be expected to go home and take Dana with her, and where could she take Dana? Not to the apartment, for though there were rooms enough, they would be filled. There would be people there. There were always people there in the evening, unless they went out themselves. Even then there were some few who felt free to come in during their absence and smoke and visit and have drinks served them. There simply wasn't a spot where she would like to take Dana. He wouldn't understand it, and he wouldn't like it any more than he had thought she would li
ke that meeting.

  Well, the meeting had been strange and absorbing to her, but she had learned enough about her new brother to know that he would never be at home where drinking was going on. She could imagine what Ivor would be like at this hour of the evening. And that unspeakable Errol Hunt! She mustn't let them ever come in contact with her wonderful brother. They would insult him. Just their eyes upon him would be an insult. Strange that the evening had wrought that change in her that she thought Dana was wonderful, but she did.

  And this young man who was walking with her, keeping pleasant step with her steps, looking down at her with dark eyes from beneath that thatch of deep red hair, he was wonderful, too!

  She wouldn't feel afraid of Errol Hunt, nor Ivor, if she had this man with her. There was something strong and vital about him that made her sure he wouldn't let any harm come to her if he were by. But Errol--! She gave a little shiver as she thought of him. There was revulsion in her heart at his memory.

  At that shiver Bruce laid a gloved hand over hers gently, reassuringly.

  "Are you cold?" he asked anxiously. "It's rather sharp outside this evening in contrast to that room we were in, isn't it? Somehow those crowded rooms always get overheated, and then it is not so good to come out into the cold."

  "Oh, I'm not cold," said Coralie, nestling her hand under the strong warm one. "I was just shivering at the thought of some things I don't like. All those people in there seemed so happy. But I'm not. They wouldn't look happy if they had some things to bear."