The Witness by Grace Livingston Hill Lutz (best fiction novels of all time .txt) 📖

While

He Sat And Watched Her Sadly,  Realizing How Well Fitted She Was For The

Things She Was Describing And How She Loved Them All!

 

     So Shall We Be Separated,  I And My People,  From All The

     People That Are Upon The Face Of The Earth!

 

He Started Upright! It Was As If A Voice Had Spoken The Words,  Those

Strange Words From The Bible! Was This Then What They Meant? Separation!

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Must Explain It All To Her. He Must Let Her Know That He Had Chosen A

Way Of Separation That Forbade The Paths Wherein She Was Longing To

Wander. Would She Shrink And Wish To Turn Back? Nevertheless,  He Must

Make It Plain To Her.

 

Gently,  Quietly,  He Tried To Make Her Understand. He Told Her Of The

Visit Of Ramsey Thomas And His Own Decision In The Winter. He Told Her

Of The Factory That Was Built To Blind The Eyes Of Those Who Were Trying

To Uplift And Help Men. He Tried To Make Conditions Plain Where Girls As

Young As She,  And With Just Such Hopes And Fears And Ambitions,  Perhaps

In Some Cases Just As Much Sweetness And Native Beauty As She Had,  Were

Obliged To Spend Long Hours Of Toil Amid Surroundings That Must Crush

The Life Out Of Any Pure Soul,  And Turn All The Sweetness To Bitterness,

The Beauty To A Peril! He Hinted At Things She Did Not Know Nor Dream

Of; Dreadful Things From Which Her Life Had Always Been Safely Guarded;

And How He Could Not,  For The Sake Of Those Crushed Souls,  Accept A

Position That Would Close His Mouth And Tie His Hands Forever From Doing

Anything About It. He Told Her He Could Not Accept Honor That Was

Founded Upon Dishonor; That He Had Taken Christ For His Pattern And

Guide; That He Could Do Nothing That Would Drive God's Presence From

Him.

 

She Had Been Sitting With Her Face Averted,  Her Clasped Hands Dropped

Straight Down At The Side Of Her Lap,  The Fingers Interlaced And Tense

In Excitement; Her Bosom Heaving With Agitation Under The Paris Gown;

But When He Reached This Point In His Argument She Sprang To Her Feet

And Away From Him,  Standing With Her Shoulders Drawn Back,  Her Head

Thrown Up,  Her Chin Out,  Her Whole Lithe Body Stiff And Imperious.

 

"It Is Time This Stopped!" She Said,  And Her Voice Was Cold Like A

Frozen Dagger And Went Straight Through His Heart. "It Is Time You Put

Away Forever This Ridiculous Idea Of A Presence,  And Of Setting Yourself

Up To Be Better Than Any One Else! This Isn't Religion,  It Is

Fanaticism! And It Has Got To Stop Now And _Forever_,  Or I Will Have

Nothing Whatever To Do With You. Either You Give Up This Idea Of A Ghost

Following You Around All The Time And Accept Mr. Ramsey Thomas's Offer

This Afternoon,  Or You And I Part! You Can Choose,  _Now_,  Between Me And

Your Presence!"

 

 

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Gila Had Never Been More Beautiful Than When She Stood And Uttered Her

Terrible Ultimatum To Courtland. Her Little Imperial Head Sat On Her

Lovely Shoulders Royally,  Her Attitude Was Perfect Grace. Her Spirited

Face With Its Dark Eyes And Lashes,  Its Setting Of Blue-Black Hair,  Was

Fascinating In Its Exquisite Modeling. She Looked Like A Proud Young

Cameo Standing For Her Portrait. But Her Words Shot Through Courtland's

Heart Like Icy Swords Dividing His Soul From His Body.

 

He Rose To His Feet,  Gone Suddenly White And Stern,  And Stood Looking At

Her As If His Own Heart Had Turned Traitor And Slain Him. A Moment They

Stood In Battle Array,  Two Forces Representing The Two Great Powers Of

The Universe. Looking Straight Into Each Other's Souls They Stood,

Plumbing The Depths,  Seeing As In A Revelation What Each Really Was!

 

To Courtland It Was Suddenly Made Plain That This Girl Had No Part Or

Lot In The Things That Had Become Vital To Him. She Had Not Seen,  She

_Would_ Not See! Her Love Was Not Great Enough To Carry Her Over The

Bridge That Separated Them,  And Back Over Which He Might Not Go After

Her!

 

Gila In Her Fierce Haughtiness Looked Into Her Lover's Eyes And Saw,  As

She Had Never Seen Before,  The Mighty Strength Of His Character! Saw

That Here Was A Man Such As She Would Not Likely Meet Again Upon Her

Way,  And She Was About To Lose Him Forever. Saw That He Would Never

Give In About A Matter Of Principle,  And That His Love Was Worth All The

More To Any Woman Because He Would Not; Knew Which Way He Would Choose,

From The First Word Of Her Challenge; Yet The Little Fury Within Her

Would Not Let Her Withdraw. She Stood With Haughty Mien And Cold,

Flashing Eyes,  Watching Him Suffer The Blow She Had Dealt Him; Knew That

It Was More Than His Love For Her She Was Killing With That Blow,  Yet

Did Not Withdraw It While She Might.

 

"Gila! Do You Mean That?"

 

She Looked Him Straight In The Eye And Thrust Her Sword In The Deeper

With A Steady Hand. "I Do!"

 

He Stood For A Moment Looking Steadily At Her With That Cold,  Observant

Glance,  As If He Would Have This Last Picture Of Her This Way To Cut

Away All Tender Memories That Might Cause Pain In The Future. Then He

Turned As If To One Who Stood By His Side. Not Looking Back Again,  He

Said,  Clearly And Distinctly:

 

"I Choose!"

 

And With Erect Bearing He Passed Out Of The Door.

 

Gila Stood,  White And Furious,  Her Little Clenched Fists Down At Her

Sides,  The Sharp Little Teeth Biting Into The Red Underlip Until The

Blood Came. She Heard The Front Door Shut In The Distance,  And Her Soul

Cried Out Within Her,  Yet She Stood Still And Held Her Ground. She

Turned Her Face Toward The Library Window. Between The Curtains She

Could Presently See His Tall Form Walking Down The Street. He Was Not

Drooping,  Nor Disheartened. He Held His Head Up And Walked As If In

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Company With One Whom He Was Proud To Own. There Was Nothing Dejected

About The Determined Young Back. Fine,  Noble,  Handsome As A Man Could

Be! She Saw That One Glimpse Of His Figure For A Moment,  Then He Passed

Beyond Her Sight And She Knew In Her Heart He Would Come To Her No

More! She Had Sent Him From Her Forever!

 

She Dashed Up To Her Room In A Fury And Locked Herself In. She Wept And

Stormed And Denied Herself To Every One; She Watched And Waited For The

Telephone To Ring,  Yet She Knew He Would Not Call Her Up!

 

Courtland Never Knew Where He Was Walking As He Went Forth That Day To

Meet His Sorrow And Face It Like A Man. He Passed Some Of His

Professors,  But Did Not See Them. Pat Mccluny Came Up And He Looked Him

In The Eye With An Unseeing Stare,  And Walked On!

 

Pat Stood Still And Looked After Him,  Puzzled!

 

"Holy Mackinaw! What's Eating The Poor Stew Now!" He Ejaculated. He

Stood A Moment Looking Back After Courtland As He Walked Straight Ahead,

Passing Several More University Fellows Without So Much As A Nod Of

Recognition. Then He Turned And Slowly Followed,  On Through The City

Streets,  Out Into The Quieter Suburbs,  Out Farther Into The Real

Country,  Mile After Mile; Out A By-Path Where Grass Grew Thick And Wild

Flowers Straggled Under Foot,  Where Presently A Stream Wound Soft And

Deep Between Steep Banks,  And Rocks Loomed High On Either Hand; Under A

Railroad Bridge,  And Up Among The Rocks,  Climbing And Puffing Till At

Last They Stood Upon A Great Rock,  Mccluny Just A Little Way Behind And

Out Of Sight.

 

It Was There In A Sort Of Crevice,  Where The Natural Fall Of The

Crumbling Rocks Had Formed A Shelter,  That Courtland Dropped Upon His

Knees. Not As A Spot He Had Been Seeking For,  But As A Haven To Which He

Had Been Led. He Knelt,  And All That Pat,  Standing,  Awed And Uncovered,

A Few Feet Below,  Heard,  Was:

 

"O God! O _God_!"

 

He Knelt There A Long Time,  While Pat Waited Below,  Trying To Think

What To Do. The Sun Was Beginning To Sink,  And A Soft,  Pink Summer Light

Was Glinting Over The Brown Rocks And Bits Of Moss And Grasses. The

Young Leaves Waved Lightly Overhead Like Children Dancing In The

Morning,  And Something Of The Sweetness And Beauty Of The Scene Crept

Into Pat Mccluny's Soul As He Stood And Waited Before This Gethsemane

Gate For A Man He Loved To Come Forth.

 

At Last He Stepped Up The Rocks Quietly And Came And Stood By Courtland,

Laying A Gentle Hand Upon His Shoulder. "Come On,  Old Man,  It's Getting

Late. About Time We Were Going Back!"

 

Courtland Got Up And Looked At Him In A Dazed Way,  As If His Soul Had

Been Bruised And He Was Only Just Recovering Consciousness. Without A

Word He Turned And Followed Pat Back Again To The City. They Did Not

Talk On The Way Back. Pat Whistled A Little,  That Was All.

 

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When They Reached The Gates Of The University Courtland Turned And Put

Out His Hand,  Speaking In His Own Natural Tone: "Thanks Awfully,  Old

Chap! Sorry To Have Made You All This Trouble!"

 

"That's All Righfe,  Her Great Desire Was To Spread Happiness And To Obtain

It,  To Love And To Be Loved In Return. In Politics It Was Always The

Sentiment Of Justice Which Appealed To Her,  In Literature It