Astra (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill

a human voice, only one word, but it told all his need. Such anguish in human eyes—dying eyes."

      "I know," said Astra with a shaken voice. "I wished—someone else were there. I wished you had not gone out in the corridor. He needed some last message so much."

      "Well, I'm ashamed to say that I wouldn't have been able to give that man such a message as you gave. It seemed—well—really inspired! You touched on so much. It was the kind of prayer that I would have liked to have prayed for me if I had been that man—a hard, lonely businessman who never had had time from making money to think about God or the beyond."

      Astra's eyes were upon her plate, but she lifted them slowly as she spoke.

      "I think," she said as she looked thoughtfully into his eyes, "that when God sends a duty like that for which one is utterly unprepared, the Holy Spirit gives the words one should use, don't you? I wouldn't have known how unless I had trusted Him to do that."

      The young man looked at her in wonder.

      At last he spoke, with awe in his voice.

      "You must know God then very intimately, if you can expect a thing like that."

      There was a question in his voice, and his eyes were still upon her. She was almost at a loss just how to answer him. Was he a Christian, or not?

      "Why," she said with some hesitancy, "of course it is the privilege of all saved people to know God intimately."

      "Is it?" he said after a moment of silence. "I never thought about it in that way. I am a church member, since boyhood, but I never exactly thought of myself as saved. I—hope to be, of course."

      "But that is something you can be absolutely sure about if you have accepted Christ as your personal Savior," said Astra. "We have God's definite promise for that. ‘He that believeth hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.'"

      "Well, I've heard that verse, of course," said Cameron, "but I never thought of it as being a definite personal assurance of salvation. Do you mean that if I have an intellectual conviction that Jesus Christ once lived on earth and died on the cross for men, that I have a right to feel that that covers everything? That I am saved through all eternity?"

      "Oh no, I wouldn't dare to say just an intellectual belief would save. It has to be an active belief, trusting in what He has done for you personally as a sinner."

      He studied her with interest.

      "How did you come to the knowledge of all this?" he asked at last. "You must have had a remarkable father."

      "Yes," said Astra, with a tender look in her eyes, "I did. He taught me to study the Bible."

      Then there came the old porter from the car behind, who touched Cameron on the shoulder. The young man looked up questioningly.

      "De doctor say, will you please come to him. De old gemman seem to be dying, and de doctor needs you to send some telegrams an' he'p make 'rangements."

      "Of course," said Cameron, throwing down his napkin and springing to his feet. Then turning to Astra he said, "You'll excuse me, I know. I want to help, of course. No, I don't think it will be necessary for you to come. You had better go to your own car for the night and get a good rest after your strenuous evening. Besides, it will be just as well for you to avoid the unpleasant old lady. When I left the car, she was still storming all around the place, determined to discover what you had written. You had a reservation, had you not? Can you find your way? Shall I take you there?"

      "Oh no, that's not necessary. I can get back to my seat. But if there is any way that I can help, I'll be glad to do it, even if she is unpleasant. Her words can't hurt me."

      "That's good of you," said Cameron. "If there is anything for you to do I'll send for you or come for you. But I'm sure it won't be necessary. You had better have your berth made up and get some rest. Or had you a reservation? There will probably be plenty to do in the morning, and you need to get a good night's sleep."

      "No, I didn't have a reservation. It was late when I got on the train, and I didn't bother to hunt up the conductor to get one. I can always curl up in a day coach and get a good rest."

      She smiled reassuringly, but Cameron looked determined.

      "No, that's no way to rest. I'll speak to the conductor for you and send you word. But go on back to your seat now. Your baggage is there, isn't it? I should have looked after that for you, but it slipped my mind. However, go back now and I'll look after everything. If I find I can't get away myself, I'll send this porter. You'll know the lady, won't you?"

      The dignified porter nodded his head.

      "Yassir! I know de lady!"

      Astra smiled, and the two men went on their way together, while she found her way back to her seat in the day coach, feeling a little as if she had been off the earth for a while and had suddenly been dropped back on her own again.

      Her seat was there, vacant as she had left it. Her two suitcases were there, one on the floor, the other in the rack above. The two reluctant stenographers were curled into separate seats, sound asleep, one with her hat hiding her face, the other with her face in full view, her mouth wide open, audibly snoring. Astra half smiled as she passed them, glad that they were not awake. They looked to her like girls who would have asked a lot of questions, and she would not have wanted to answer them.

      The windows were thick with snow now. There was no looking out on lighted towns, even if there had been any towns. They seemed to be going on endlessly into the night, and Astra was back where she had been several hours ago, looking into an unknown future, wondering what the next day, and the next, would bring forth in her life. Was she going to be sorry that she had left the shelter of her cousin's uncongenial home? Was she just going into another more uncongenial atmosphere perhaps?

      She was glad after a few minutes to see the kindly face and dignified bearing of the old porter coming down the car toward her.

      "Yassym, miss," he said importantly. "We have de berth for you now, three cars ahead. Dese yore baggage, miss? Just step out in de aisle. I'll get it."

      With the ease of long accustomedness, he swung the suitcases out and started on. Astra was glad that almost everyone in the car was dozing or asleep and not interested in her going. She felt a sudden shyness after having been called out of there a few hours before in such a dramatic manner.

      She was glad to arrive quietly where most of the berths were made up, a long aisle of drawn curtains, the people behind them asleep.

      She found in her own section was a lower berth made up, the upper not even let down. She had a passing gratitude for the thoughtfulness of the young man who had ordered it.

      Then the porter handed her a folded paper.

      "Gemman send this," he said.

      Astra glanced at the note. It was a few words about where he would meet her in the morning.

      She smiled at the porter.

      "Tell him all right. I'll wait there till he comes," she said, and handed him a bit of silver.

      Then she was glad to lie down and sink into a deep sleep that left her no opportunity to try and figure out the way ahead, nor even go into the way behind to see if she had done wisely in coming.

      CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      If Astra Everson had not made up her mind that she simply could not stay in her cousin Marmaduke Lester's house any longer, she would probably never have taken the definite step of going back to the old home to find her father's friend, Mr. Sargent, and discover for herself just how her finances stood.

      Three years before, when her father was in his last illness, he had talked with her one day about her future. He told her that he was leaving her plenty to keep her comfortable