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

"Thou Shalt Not Surely Die." Her Only Question Was Ever Whether The

Fruit Was Pleasant To The Eyes And A Tree To Be Desired To Make One

Wise. Till Now There Had Been No Lord God Walking In Her Garden In The

Cool Of The Day. Only Her Mother,  And She Was Easy To Evade. She Had

Never Been Really Afraid,  Nor Felt Her Little Soul Naked Till Now,  With

The Ugly Little Man's Bright Brown Eyes Upon Her,  And His Words

Shivering Through Her Like Winds About The Unprotected. Hideous Things

She Had Forgotten Flung Into View And Challenged Her; And Somewhere In

The Room There Seemed To Be One Who Dared To Call Her To Account. She

Looked Fiercely Back To Theic Socialism. Still,  The Fact Remains That What Social

Ideals They Hold Are No Part Of Bolshevism. They Are Socialist Ideals.

Bolshevism Is A Distinctive Method And A Program,  And Its Essence Is The

Relentless Use Of Power By The Proletariat Against The Rest Of Society In

The Same Manner That The Bourgeois And Military Rulers Of Nations Have

Commonly Used It Against The Proletariat. Bolshevism Has Simply Inverted

Bolsheviki Themselves. They Denounced Kerensky's Government For Not Holding

The Elections For The Constituent Assembly Sooner,  Posing As The Champions

Of The Constituante. When They Had Themselves Assumed Control Of The

Government They Delayed The Meeting Of The Constituent Assembly And Then

Suppressed It By Force Of Arms! They Denounced Kerensky For Having

Restored The Death Penalty In The Army In Cases Of Gross Treachery,

Professing An Intense Horror Of Capital Punishment As A Form Of "Bourgeois

Savagery." When They Came Into Power They Instituted Capital Punishment For

_Civil_ And _Political Offenses_,  Establishing Public Hangings And

Floggings As A Means Of Impressing The Population![24] They Had Bitterly

Assailed Kerensky For His "Militarism," For Trying To Build Up The Army And

For Urging Men To Fight. In Less Critical Circumstances They Themselves

Resorted To Forced Conscription. They Condemned Kerensky And His Colleagues

For "Interfering With Freedom Of Speech And Press." When They Came Into

Power They Suppressed All Non-Bolshevist Papers And Meetings In A Manner

Differing Not At All From That Of The Czar's Régime,  Forcing The Other

Socialist Parties And Groups To Resort To The Old Pre-Revolution

"Underground" Methods.

The Evidence Of All These Things,  And Things Even Worse Than These,  Is

Conclusive And Unimpeachable. It Is Contained In The Records Of The

Bolshevik Government,  In Its Publications,  And In The Reports Of The Great

Socialist Parties Of Russia,  Officially Made To The International Socialist

Bureau. Surely The Evidence Sustains The Charge That,  Whatever Else They

May Or May Not Be,  The Bolsheviki Are Not Unbending And Uncompromising

Idealists Of The Type Of John Brown And William Lloyd Garrison,  As They Are

So Often Represented As Being By Well-Meaning Sentimentalists Whose

Indulgence Of The Bolsheviki Is As Unlimited As Their Ignorance Concerning

Them.

Some Day,  Perhaps,  A Competent Psychologist Will Attempt The Task Of

Explaining The Psychology Of Our Fellow-Citizens Who Are So Ready To Defend

The Bolsheviki For Doing The Very Things They Themselves Hate And Condemn.

In Any List Of Men And Women In This Country Friendly To The Bolsheviki It

Will Be Found That They Are Practically All Pacifists And

Anti-Conscriptionists,  While A Great Many Are Non-Resistants And

Conscientious Objectors To Military Service. Practically All Of Them Are

Vigorous Defenders Of The Freedom Of The Press,  Of The Right Of Public

Assemblage And Of Free Speech. With The Exception Of A Few Anarchists,  They

Are Almost Universally Strong Advocates Of Radical Political Democracy. How

Can High-Minded And Intelligent Men And Women--As Many Of Them Are--Holding

Such Beliefs As These Give Countenance To The Bolsheviki,  Who Bitterly And

Resolutely Oppose All Of Them? How Can They Denounce America's Adoption Of

Conscription And Say That It Means That "Democracy Is Dead In America"

While,  At The Same Time,  Hailing The Birth Of Democracy In Russia,  Where

Conscription Is Enforced By The Bolsheviki? How,  Again,  Can They At One And

The Same Time Condemn American Democracy For Its Imperfections,  As In The

Matter Of Suffrage,  While Upholding And Defending The Very Men Who,  In

Russia,  Deliberately Set Out To Destroy The Universal Equal Suffrage

Already Achieved? How Can They Demand Freedom Of The Press And Of

Assemblage,  Even In War-Time,  And Denounce Such Restrictions As We Have Had

To Endure Here In America,  And At The Same Time Uphold The Men Responsible

For .

She Dropped Her Lashes And Played With The Frill On The Wrist Of The

Long Chiffon Sleeve Of Her Blouse. Her Eyes Beneath Their Concealing

Lashes Kindled. Her Mouth Grew Sweet And Sensitive,  Her Whole Attitude

Became Shy And Alluring. She Sat And Drooped Before The Fire,  Casting

Now And Then A Wide,  Shy,  Innocent Look Up,  Her Face Half Turned Away.

"Does She Look Adown Her Apron!" Floated The Words Through His Brain.

Ah! Here At Last Was The Gila He Had Been Seeking! The Gila Who Would

Understand!

"Tell Me,  Gila!" He Said,  In An Eager,  Low Appeal.

She Stirred Softly,  Drooped A Little More Toward Him,  Her Face Turned

Away Till Only The Charming Profile Showed Against The Rich Darkness Of

A Crimson Curtain. Now At Last He Was Coming To It!

"It Was--_You_--I Meant!" She Breathed Softly.

He Sat Up Sharply. There Was Subtle Flattery In Her Tone. He Could Not

Fail To Be Stirred By It.

"Me!" He Said,  Almost Sternly. "I Don't Understand!" But His Voice Was

Gentle,  Almost Tender. She Looked So Small And Scared And

"Solveig"-Like.

"You Meant _Me_!" He Said,  Again. "Won't You Please Explain?"

Courtland Went Back To College That Night In A Tender And Exalted Mood.

He Thought He Was In Love With Gila!

That Had Been A Wonderful Little Scene Before The Fire,  With The Soft,

Hidden Yellow Lights Above,  And Gila With Her Delicate,  Fervid Little

Face,  Great,  Dark Eyes,  And Shy Looks. Gila Had Risked A Tear Upon Her

Pearly Cheek And Another To Hang Upon Her Long Lashes,  And He Had Had A

Curious Desire To Kiss Them Away; But Something Held Him From It.

Instead,  He Took His Clean Handkerchief,  Softly Wiping Them,  And Thought

That Gila Was Shy And Modest When She Shrank From His Touch.

He Did Not Take Her In His Arms. Something Held Him From That,  Too. He

Had A Feeling That She Was Too Sacred,  And He Must Not Lightly Snatch

Her For Himself. Instead,  He Put Her Gently In The Big Chair By His

Side,  And They Sat And Talked Together Quietly. He Did Not Realize That

He Had Done The Most Of The Talking. He Did Not Know What They Had

Talked About; Only That Reluctant Whispered Confession Of Hers Had

Somehow Entered Him Into A Close Intimacy With Her That Pleased And Half

Awed Him. But When He Tried To Tell Her Of A Wonderful Experience He Had

Had She Lifted Up Her Little Hand And Begged: "Please,  Not To-Night! Let

Us Not Think Of Anything But Just Each Other To-Night!" And So He Had

Let It Pass,  Knowing She Was All Wrought Up.

He Had Not Asked Her To Marry Him,  Nor Even Told Her He Loved Her. They

Had Talked In Quiet,  Wondering Ways Of Feeling Drawn To Each Other; At

Least _He_ Had Talked,  And Gila Had Sat Watching Him With Deep,

Dissatisfied Eyes. She Had Sense Enough To See That She Could Not Win

Him With The Arts That Had Won Others. His Was A Nature Deeper,

Stronger. She Must Bide Her Time And Be Coy. But Her Spirit Chafed

Beneath Delay,  And Dark Passions Lurked Behind And Brooded In Her Eyes.

Perhaps It Was This That Held Him In A Sort Of Uncertainty. It Was As If

He Waited Permission From Some Unseen Source To Take What She Was So

Evidently Ready To Give. He Thought It Was The Sacredness In Which He

Held Her. Almost The Sermon And The Feeling Of The Presence Were Out Of

Mind As He Went Home. There Played Around Him Now A Little Phantom Joy

That Hovered Over Like A Will-O'-The-Wisp Above His Heart,  And Danced,

Giving Him A Strange,  Inexplicable Exhilaration. Was This Love? Was He

In Love?

He Flung Himself Down On Tennelly's Couch When He Got Back To The

Dormitory. Bill Ward Was Deep In A Book Under The Drop-Light,  And

Tennelly Was Supposed To Be Finishing A Theme For The Next Day.

"Nelly,  What Is Love?" Asked Courtland,  Suddenly,  In The Midst Of The

Silence. "How Do You Know When You Are In Love?"

Tennelly Dropped His Fountain-Pen In His Surprise,  And Had To Crawl

Under The Table After It. He And Bill Ward Exchanged One Lightning

Glance Of Relief As He Emerged From The Table.

"Search Me!" Said Tennelly,  As He Sat Down Again. "Love's An Illusion,

They Say. I Never Tried It,  So I Don't Know."

There Was Silence Again In Tennelly's Room. Presently Courtland Got Up

And Said Good-Night. Over In His Own Room He Stood By The Window,

Looking Out Into The Moonlight. The Preacher Had Said Prayer Was Talking

With The Lord Face To Face. That Was A New Idea. Courtland Dropped Upon

His Knees And Talked Aloud To God As He Had Never Opened His Heart To

Living Creature Before. If Prayer Was That,  Why,  Prayer Was Good!

Gila,  Standing Bewildered,  Studying Her Pretty,  Discontented Little Face

In The Mirror,  With All Its Masks Laid Aside,  Would Have Shivered In

Fear And Been All The More Uncertain Of Her Success If She Could Have

Known That The Man She Would Have Had For A Lover Was On His Knees

Talking About Her To God.