A picket fence with scaling ancient paint, and a gate with a chain and weight guarded the quiet haven, and the fitful moonlight quavered out and showed the dim outline of a hammock slung between the maples close to the west porch. Joyce remembered a long, beautiful afternoon when she had lain in that hammock and read a book while Aunt Mary sat on the porch with Julia Hartshorn and sewed. How long ago and how beautiful that seemed. How like heaven in contrast with what she had been going through lately! Yes, here was a haven. She might go and knock at the door, and Julia’s night-capped old head would appear at the window above. She had only to tell who it was and that she was in trouble, and the door would be open wide for her. Neither would Julia Hartshorn ever tell.
But Julia Hartshorn was old, and she had a sharp-tongued niece who had come to live with her and go to school. It would never do. She must not venture that. The school in Heatherdell was too near to the school in Meadow Brook, and too much gossip went back and forth. No, she must keep to her lonely way and go on. But there was no reason why she might not slip into that gate for a little while and lie in that hammock till daylight began to come. She could steal in so quietly no one would ever know, and get out again before the household was awake. She would be entirely safe outside a dwelling house of course, and need not fear to sleep for a few minutes under such protection.
Softly she lifted the latch of the old gate, lifting the gate as she swung it cautiously open lest it creak, and let herself in, closing it noiselessly behind her. Still as a creature of the woods she stole up the grass and tiptoed across the walk to the hammock, sliding gently into it, and slowly relaxing her tense muscles. It seemed as though she had suddenly been tossed up by a terrible and angry sea where her very soul had been racked from her body and laid upon a quiet stretch of sand, so wonderful it was to lie and rest.
She scarcely knew when her thoughts relaxed from their intense strain and rested with her body or when the night blurred into sleep and took her trouble all away. She only realized as she was drifting off, that her soul was crying, “Oh, God! Forgive me if I’ve done wrong. Take care of me, and show me what to do! For Jesus’ sake—take care of me—show me.”
Was that a dream or footsteps stealthily along the road, pausing at the gate, noiseless footsteps like those in the cemetery? He was coming back—but he must not. Oh, what was he doing out there in the dark! Something that he was ashamed of? He had drooped and had not answered! “Oh, God, show him!” Was there some one at the gate? Or was it fancy. Ah—now they seemed to be going on. How sweet the breeze on her forehead—like the breeze from the open kitchen door. “Oh, God. Save him! Help me! Show me what to do.”
CHAPTER VII
The morning dawned with a luminous pink in the east and a sudden twitter of birds. April, and four o’clock in the morning; asleep in a hammock under a tree. What could be more perfect?
Joyce, half conscious of the wonder all about her, had come to life with the first bird, and a sense of peace upon her. The daylight was coming and God had kept her. She might go on her way now and be undisturbed. Then a stab of pain at the memory of the night before brought her further awake. A low flying bird almost brushed her cheek with its wing, and the petals of the apple blossoms drifted down in her face. Such exquisite perfume, such melody of many throats, would it be something like this when one wakened in heaven and heard the voices of the angel songs?
Beyond her sheltering tree the dim outlines of the old house loomed gently in the gray morning, such peace and safety all about. How good to be resting here.
But Julia Hartshorn’s niece had picked out this especial morning to get up early and do some house cleaning before going to school, and just as Joyce was allowing herself to drift off again into drowsiness Jane Hartshorn’s alarm clock set up such a clang into the melody of the morning that Joyce came to herself in terror and sat up looking fearfully toward the house. Not for anything would she have them discover her there. She must get up and get out before the light. She must hasten now for some one was evidently going to arise at once, and it was not safe to remain another second.