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

They Were Enduring For The Sake Of His Father,  Who Seemed Gratified To

Have His Eldest Son At Home Once More. But All The Time Courtland Was

Chafing At The Delay. He Felt There Was Something He Ought To Be About.

There Wasn't Anything Here. Not Even The Young Brothers Presented A Very

Hopeful Field,  Or Perhaps He Didn't Know How To Go About It. He Tried

Telling Them Stories One Day When He Wheedled Them Off In The Car With

Him,  And They Listened Eagerly When He Told Them Of The Fire In The

Theater,  Stephen Marshall's Wonderful Part In The Rescue Of Many,  And

His Death. But When He Went On And Tried To Tell Them In Boy Language Of

His Own Experience He Could See Them Look Strangely,  Critically At Him,

And Finally The Oldest One Said: "Aw Rats! What Kinda Rot Are You Giving

Us,  Paul? You Were Nutty Then,  O' Course!" And He Saw That,  Young As

They Were,  Their Eyes Were Holden Like The Rest.

In The Second Week Courtland Made His Decision. He Would Go Back To The

University And Pack Up. Gila Would Be Away From The City By That Time;

There Would Be No Chance Of Meeting Her And Having His Wound Opened

Afresh. The Fellows Would Be All Gone And He Could Do About As He

Pleased.

It Was The Second Day After He Went Back That He Met Pat On The Street,

And It Was From Pat That He Learned That Tennelly And Bill Ward Had Gone

Down To The Shore To A House Party Given By "That Fluffy-Ruffles Cousin

Of Bill's."

Pat Drew His Own Conclusions From The White Look On Courtland's Face

When He Told Him. He Would Heartily Have Enjoyed Throttling The Girl If

He Had Had A Chance Just Then,  When He Saw The Look Of Suffering In

Courtland's Eyes.

Pat Clung To Courtland All That Week,  Helped Him Pack,  And Dogged His

Steps. Except When He Visited The Little Sacred Room At The End Of The

Hall In The Dormitory,  Courtland Was Never Sure Of Freedom From Him. He

Was Always On Hand To Propose A Hike Or A Trip To The Movies When He Saw

Courtland Was Tired. Courtland Was Grateful,  And There Was Something So

Loyal About Him That He Couldn't Give Him The Slip. So When He Went Down

After Burns And Whirled Him Away In His Big Gray Car To The Seashore

Friday Morning To Stay Until Saturday Evening,  Pat Went Along.

They Certainly Were A Queer Trio,  The Little Scotch Preacher,  The Big

Irish Athlete,  And The Cultured Aristocrat! Yet They Managed To Have A

Mighty Good Time Of It Those Two Days At The Shore,  And Came Back The

Warmest Of Friends. Pat Proved His Devotion To Burns By Attending Church

The Next Day With Courtland,  And Listening Attentively To Every Word

That Was Said. It Is True He Did It Much In The Same Way The Fellows

Used To Share One Another's Stunts In College,  Sticking By And Helping

Out When One Of The Gang Had A Hard Task To Perform. But It Pleased Both

Courtland And Burns That He Came. Courtland Wondered,  As He Shared The

Hymn-Book With Him And Heard Him Growl Out A Few Bass Notes To Old "Rock

Of Ages," Why It Was That It Seemed To Fill Him With A Kind Of

Exaltation To Hear Pat Sing. He Hadn't Yet Recognized The Call To Go

A-Fishing For Men,  Nor Knew That It Was The Divine Angler's Deep Delight

In His Employment That Was Filling Him. It Was While They Were Singing

That Hymn That He Stole A Look At Pat,  And Felt A Sudden Wonder Whether

He Would Understand About The Presence Or Not,  A Burning Desire To Tell

Him About It Some Time If The Right Opportunity Offered.

The Days Down At The Shore Had Done A Lot For Courtland. He Had Taken

Care That The Spot He Selected Was Many Miles Removed From The Popular

Resort Where Mr. Dare Had A Magnificent Cottage; And There Had Been

Absolutely Nothing In The Whole Two Days To Remind Him Of Gila. It Was A

Quiet Place,  With A Far,  Smooth Beach,  And No Board Walks Nor Crowds To

Shut Out The Vision Of The Sea. He Leaped Along The Sand And Dived Into

The Water With His Old Enthusiasm. He Played Like A Fish In The Ocean.

He Taught Burns Several Things About Swimming,  And Played Pranks Like A

School-Boy. He Basked In The Sun And Told Jokes,  Laughing At Pat's

Brilliant Wit And Burns's Dry Humor. At Night They Took Long Walks Upon

The Sand And Talked Of Deep Things That Pat Could Scarcely Understand.

He Was Satisfied To Stride Between Them,  Listening To The Vigorous Ring

Of Courtland's Old Natural Voice Again. He Heard Their Converse High

Above Where He Lived,  And Loved Them For The Way They Searched Into

Things Too Deep For Him.

It Was Out In The Wildest,  Loneliest Part Of The Beach That Night That

He Heard The First Hint Of What Had Come To The Soul Of Courtland. Pat

Had Come Of Catholic Ancestry. He Had An Inheritance Of Reverence For

The Unseen. He Had Never Been Troubled With Doubts Or Sneers. He Had Let

Religion Go By And Shed It Like A Shower,  But He Respected It.

Courtland Spent Much Time In The Vicinity Of The Factory And Of Robert

Burns's Church During The Next Few Weeks. He Helped Burns A Good Deal,

For The Man Had Heavily Taxed Himself With The Burdens Of The Poor About

Him. Courtland Found Ways To Privately Relieve Necessity And Put A Poor

Soul Now And Then On His Feet And Able To Face The World Again By The

Loan Of A Few Cents Or Dollars. It Took So Pitifully Little To Open The

Gate Of Heaven To Some Lives! Courtland With His Keen Intellect And Fine

Perceptions Was Able Sometimes To Help The Older Man In His

Perplexities; And Once,  When Burns Was Greatly Worried Over A Bill That

Was Hanging Fire During A Prolonged Session Of Congress,  Courtland Went

Down To Washington For A Week-End And Hunted Up Some Of His Father's

Congressional Friends. He Told Them A Few Facts Concerning Factories In

General,  And A Certain Model,  White-Marble,  Much Be-Vined Factory In

Particular,  That At Least Opened Their Eyes If It Did Not Make Much

Difference In The General Outcome. But Though The Bill Failed To Pass

That Session,  Being Skilfully Side-Tracked,  Courtland Had Managed To

Stir Up A Bit Of Trouble For Uncle Ramsey Thomas That Made Him Storm

About His Office Wrathfully And Wonder Who That "Darned Little Rat Of A

Preacher" Had Helping Him Now!

It Was Late In September That Pat,  With A Manner Of Studied

Indifference,  Told Courtland Of A Rumor That Tennelly Was Engaged To

Gila Dare.

It Was The Very Next Sunday Night That Tennelly Turned Up At Courtland's

Apartment After He And Pat Had Gone To The Evening Service,  And Followed

Them To The Church. He Dropped Into A Seat Beside Pat,  Amazed To Find

Him There.

"You Here!" He Whispered,  Grasping Pat's Hand With The Old Friendly

Grip. "Where's Court?"

Pat Grinned And Nodded Up Toward The Pulpit.

Tennelly Looked Forward And For A Minute Did Not Comprehend. Then He Saw

Courtland Sitting Gravely In A Pulpit Chair By The Little Red-Headed

Scotch Preacher.

"What In Thunder!" He Growled,  Almost Out Loud. "What's The Joke?"

Pat's Face Was On The Defensive At Once,  Though It Was Plain He Was

Enjoying Tennelly's Perplexity. "Court's Going To Speak To-Night!" It Is

Probable Pat Never Enjoyed Giving Any Information So Much As That

Sentence In His Life.

"The Deuce He Is!" Said Tennelly,  Out Loud. "You're Lying,  Man!" Which,

Considering That The Scotchman Was Praying,  Was Slightly Out Of Place.

Pat Frowned. "Shut Up,  Nelly. Can't You See The Game's Called? I'm

Telling You Straight. If You Don't Believe It Wait And See."

Preaching? Consternation Filled His Soul. He Loved Courtland As His Own

Brother. He Would Have Done Anything To Save His Brilliant Career For

Him.

He Hadn't Intended Staying To Service. His Plan Had Been To Slip In,  Get

Courtland To Come Away With Him,  Have A Talk,  And Go Back To The Shore

On The Late Train. But The Present Situation Altered His Plans. There

Was Nothing For It Now But To Stay And See This Thing Through. Pat Was A

Whole Lot Deeper Than The Rest Had Ever Given Him Credit For Being. Pat

Was Enjoying The Psychological Effect Of The Service On Tennelly. He Had

Never Been Much Of A Student In The Psychology Class,  But When It Came

Right Down To Plain Looking Into Another Man's Soul And Telling What He

Was Thinking About,  And What He Was Going To Do Next,  Pat Was All There.

That Was What Made Him Such An Excellent Football-Player. When He Met

His Opponent He Could Always Size Him Up And Tell Just About What Kind

Of Plays He Was Going To Make,  And Know How To Prepare For Them. Pat Was

No Fool.

That Was A Most Unusual Service. The Minister Read The Story Of The

Martyr Stephen,  And The Conversion Of Saul Of Tarsus,  Taken From The

Sixth,  Seventh,  Eighth,  And Ninth Chapters Of Acts. It Was Brief And

Dramatic In The Reading. Even Tennelly Was Caught And Held As Burns Read

In His Clear,  Direct Way That Made Scripture Seem To Live Again In

Modern Times.

"I Have Asked My Friend Mr. Courtland To Tell You The Story Of How He

Met Jesus One Day On The Damascus Road," Said Burns,  As He Closed The

Bible And Turned To Courtland,  Sitting Still With Bowed Head Just Behind

Him.

Courtland Had Made Many Speeches During His College Days. He Had Been

The Prince Among His Class For Debate. He Had Been Proud Of His Ability

As A Speaker,  And Had Delighted In Being Able To Hold And Sway An

Audience. He Had Never Known Stage Fright,  Nor Dreaded Appearing Before

People. But Ever Since Burns Had Asked Him If He Would Be Willing To

Tell The Story Of The Presence To His People In The Church Before He

Left For His Theological Studies,  Courtland Had Been Just Plain

Frightened. He Had Consented. Somehow He Couldn't Do Anything Else,  It

Was So Obviously To His Mind A "Call"; But If Had Been A Coward In