The Witness by Grace Livingston Hill Lutz (mobi reader android TXT) 📕

He Knew That Tennelly Would Go With Him To Church. For Courtland Had

Seen Among The Advertisements In The Trolley On His Way Back To The

University,  The Notice Of A Service To Be Held In A Church Away Down In

The Lower Part Of The City,  To Be Addressed By The Rev. John Burns,  And

He Wanted To Go. It Might Not Be _The_ John Burns Of Course,  But He

Wanted To See.

Worn Out With The Events Of The Night,  He Slept Soundly Until Ten. Then,

As If He Had Been An Alarm-Clock Set For A Certain Moment,  He Awoke.

He Lay There For A Moment In The Peace Of The Consciousness Of Something

Good That Had Come To Him. Then He Knew That It Was The Presence. It Was

There,  In His Room. It Would Always Be His. There Might Be Laws

Attending Its Coming And Going--Perhaps In Some Way Concerned With His

Own Attitude--But He Would Learn Them. It Was Enough To Know The

Possibility Of That Companionship All The Days Of One's Life.

He Couldn't Reason Out Why A Thing Like That Should Give Him So Much

Joy. It Didn't Seem Sensible In The Old Way Of Reasoning--And Yet,

Didn't It? If It Could Be Proved To The Fellows That There Was Really A

God Like That,  Companionable,  Reasonable,  Just,  Loving,  Forgiving,  Ready

To Give Himself,  Wouldn't Every One Of Them Jump At The Chance Of

Knowing Him Personally,  Provided There Was A Way For Them To Know Him?

They Claimed It Had Never Been Proved,  Never Could Be. But He Knew It

Could. It Had Been Proved To Him! That Was The Difference. That Was The

Greatness Of It! And Now He Was Going To Church Again To Find Out If The

Presence Was Ever There!

With A Bound He Was Out Of Bed,  Shaved And Dressed In An Incredibly

Short Space Of Time,  And,  Shouting To Tennelly,  Who Took His Feet

Reluctantly From The Window-Seat,  Lowered The Sunday Paper,  And Replied,

Sulkily:

"Thunder And Blazes! Who Waked You Up,  You Nut! I Thought You Were Good

For Another Two Hours!"

But They Went To Church.

Tennelly Sat Down On The Hard Wooden Bench And Accepted The Worn

Hymn-Book That A Small Urchin Presented Him,  With An Amused Stare Which

Finally Bloomed Into A Full Grin At Courtland.

"What's Eating You,  You Blooming Idiot! Where In Thunder Did You Rake Up

This Dump,  Anyway? If You've Got To Go To Church,  Why In The Name Of All

That's A Bore Can't You Pick Out A Place Where The Congregation Take A

Bath Once A Month Whether They Need It Or Not?" He Whispered,  In A Loud

Growl.

But Courtland's Eyes Were Already Fixed On The Bright,  Intelligent Face

And Red Hair Of The Man Who Stood Behind The Cheap Little Pulpit. He Was

The Same John Burns! A Window Just Behind The Platform,  Set With Crude

Red And Blue And Yellow Lights Of Cheap Glass,  Sent Its Radiance Down,

Upon His Head,  And The Yellow Bar Lay Across His Hair Like A Halo;

Behind Him,  In The Colored Lights,  There Seemed To Stand The Presence.

It Was So Vivid To Courtland At First That He Drew In His Breath And

Looked Sharply At Tennelly,  As If He,  Too,  Must See,  Though He Knew

There Was Nothing Visible,  Of Course,  But The Lights,  The Glory,  And The

Little,  Freckled,  Earnest Man Giving Out A Hymn.

And The Singing! If One Were Looking For Discord,  Well,  It Was There,

Every Shade Of It That The World Had Ever Known! There Were Quavering

Old Voices,  And Piping Young Ones; Off The Key And On The Key,

Squeaking,  Grating,  Screaming,  Howling,  With All Their Earnest Might,

But The Melody Lifted Itself In A Great Voice On High And Seemed To Bear

Along The Spirit Of The Congregation.

     "I Need Thee Every Hour.

       Stay Thou Near By;

     Temptations Lose Their Power

       When Thou Art Nigh.

     I Need Thee,  Oh I,  Need Thee,

       Every Hour I Need Thee;

     O Bless Me Now,  My Saviour,

       I Come To Thee!"

These People,  Then,  Knew About The Presence,  Loved It,  Longed For It,

Understood Its Power! They Sang Of The Presence And Were Glad! There

Were,  Then,  Others In The World Who Knew,  Besides Himself And Stephen

And Stephen Marshall's Mother! Without Knowing What He Was Doing,

Courtland Sang. He Did Not Know The Words,  But He Felt The Spirit,  And

He Groped Along In Syllables As He Caught Them.

Tennelly Sat Gazing Around Him,  Highly Amused,  Not Attempting To

Suppress His Mirth. His Eyes Fairly Danced As He Observed First One

Absorbed Worshiper,  And Then Another,  Intent Upon The Song. He Fancied

Himself Taking Off The Old Elder On The Other Side Of The Aisle,  And The

Intense Young Woman With The Large Mouth And The Feather In Her Hat. Her

Voice Was Killing. He Could Make The Fellows Die Laughing,  Singing As

She Did,  In A High Falsetto.

He Looked At Courtland To Enjoy It With Him,  And Lo! Courtland Was

Singing With As Much Earnestness As The Rest; And Upon His Face There

Sat A High,  Exalted Look That He Had Never Seen There Before. Was It

True That The Fire And The Sickness Had Really Affected Court's Mind,

After All? He Had Seemed So Like His Old Self Lately That They Had All

Hoped He Was Getting Over It.

During The Prayer Courtland Dropped His Head And Closed His Eyes.

Tennelly Glanced Around And Marveled Amusedly At The Serious Attitude Of

All. Even A Row Of Tough-Looking Kids On The Back Seats Had At Least

One Eye Apiece Squinted Shut During The Prayer,  And Almost An Atmosphere

Of Reverence Upon Them.

Tennelly Prided Himself Upon Being A Student Of Human Nature,  And Before

He Knew It He Was Interested In This Mass Of Common People About Him.

But Now And Again His Gaze Went Uneasily Back To Courtland,  Whose Eyes

Were Fixed Intently Upon The Preacher,  As If The Words He Spoke Were Of

Real Importance To Him.

Tennelly Sat Back In Wonder And Tried To Listen. It Was All About A

Mysterious Companionship With God,  Stuff That Sounded Like "Rot" To Him;

Uncanny,  Unreal,  Mystical,  Impossible! Could It Be True That Court,

Their Peach Of A Court,  Whose Sneer And Criticism Alike Had Been Dreaded

By All Who Came Beneath Them--Could It Be That So Sensible And Scholarly

And Sane A Mind As Court's Could Take Up With A Superstition Like That?

For It Was To Tennelly Foolishness.

He Owned To A Certain Amount Of Interest In The Emotional Side Of The

Sermon. It Was True That The Little Man Could Sway That Uncouth Audience

Mightily. He Felt Himself Swayed In The Tenderer Side Of His Nature,  But

Of Course His Superior Mind Realized That It Was All Emotion;

Interesting As A Study,  But Not To Be Taken Seriously For A Moment. It

Wasn't A Healthy Thing For Court To See Much Of This Sort Of Thing. All

This Talk Of A Cross,  And One Dying For All! Mere Foolishness And

Superstition! Very Beautiful,  And Perhaps Allegorical,  But Not At All

Practical!

The Minister Was Down By The Door Before They Got Out,  And Grasped

Courtland's Hand As If He Were An Old Friend,  And Then Turned And

Grasped Tennelly's. There Was Something So Genuine And Sincere About His

Face That Tennelly Decided That He Must Really Believe All That Junk He

Had Been Preaching,  After All. He Wasn't A Fake,  He Was Merely A Good,

Wholesome Sort Of A Fanatic. He Bowed Pleasantly And Said A Few

Commonplaces As He Passed Out.

"Seems To Be A Good Sort," He Murmured To Courtland. "Pity He's Tied

Down To That Sort Of Thing!"

Courtland Looked At Him Sharply. "Is That The Way You Feel About It,

Nelly?" There Was Something Half Wistful In His Tone.

Tennelly Looked At Him Sharply. "Why,  Sure! I Think He's A Bigger Man

Than His Job,  Don't You?"

"Then You Didn't Feel It?"

"Feel What?"

"The Presence Of God In That Place!"

There Was Something So Simple And Majestic About The Way Courtland Made

The Extraordinary Statement--Not As A Common Fanatic Would Make It,  Nor

Even As One Who Was Testing And Feeling Around For Confirmation Of A

Hope,  But As One Who Knew It To Be A Fact Beyond Questioning,  Which The

Other Merely Hadn't Been Able To See--That Tennelly Was Almost

Embarrassed.

"Why--I-- Why--No! I Can't Say That I Noticed Any Particular

Manifestation. I Was Entirely Too Much Taken Up By The Smell To Observe

The Occult. Say,  What's Eating You,  Anyway,  Court? Such Foolishness

Isn't Like You. You Ought To Cut It Out. You Know A Thing Like This Can

Get On Your Nerves If You Let It,  Just Like Anything Else,  And Make You

A Monomaniac. You Ought To Go In For More Athletics And Cut Out Some Of

Your Psychology And Philosophy. Suppose We Go And Take A Ride In The

Park This Afternoon. It's A Great Day."

"I Don't Mind Riding In The Park For A While After Dinner. I've Got A

Date About Four O'clock. But I'm Not A Monomaniac,  Nelly,  And Nothing's

Getting On My Nerves. I Never Felt Better Or Happier In My Life. I Feel

As If I'd Been Blind Always,  Been Sort Of Groping My Way,  And Had Just

Got My Eyes Open To See What A Wonderful Thing Life Really Is."

"Do You Mean You've Got What They Used To Call 'Religion,' Court? 'Hit

The Trail,' As It Were?" Tennelly Asked As If He Were Delicately

Inquiring About Some Insidious Tubercular Or Cancerous Trouble. He

Seemed Half Ashamed To Connect Such A Perilous Possibility With His

Honored Friend.

Courtland Shook His Head. "Not That I Know Of,  Nelly. I Never Attended

One Of Those Big Evangelistic Meetings In My Life,  And I Don't Know

Exactly What 'Religion,' As They Call It,  Is,  So I Can't Lay Claim To

Anything Of That Sort. What I Mean Is,  Simply,  I've Met God Face To Face

And Found He's My Friend. That's About The Size Of It,  And It Makes

Things All Look Different. I'd Like To Tell You About It Just As It

Happened Some Time,  Tennelly,  When You're Ready To Hear."

"Wait Awhile,  Court," Said Tennelly,  Half Shrinking. "Wait Till You've

Had A Little More Time To Think It Over. Then If You Like I'll Listen."

"Very Well," Said Courtland,  Quietly. "But I Want You