December 1931
551
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
washed us from our sins in His own blood. In that day, we shall cast our crowns at His precious feet, and bring forth His royal diadem and crown Him Lord of all. And—” she turned to the Unknown, “I cannot wear this—I cannot even keep it, in this hour of the world’s need. You say it is mine. Then I give it to my Saviour and His needy ones, and I say to them, as you have said, ‘In the name of the Christ-child, receive this.’ ” The Unknown bent his head. It was a gesture of reverence. “I thought you were lovely adorned with my mother’s jewels,” he said, “but you are lovelier far, unadorned. May this beauty of spirit always be yours, my dear.” “But what,” asked the Lemon King’s daughter, as the glorious evening drew to a close, “is the Unknown’s, name or title ? They didn’t tell us.” Beatrice smiled at the interesting card in her hand' and the prospect of the long, glad Christmas that was to be hers tomorrow with her father’s brother and Lawrence. The Unknown himself laughed as he entered a wait ing limousine and cried, “My proudest title is this—Beatrice’s Uncle!” RETURN OF THE TIDE [Continued from page 548] People’s Spciety, which she began to attend regularly, as well as the other services of the church. One Sunday evening, as she stepped out of the Young People’s meeting into the little churchyard, she came face to face with Nelson Barrington. “Why, Nelson,” she almost gasped. “Marian!” was all he could say, but there was a world of feeling in his tone, and his face was fairly alight. He gripped her hand as though he never intended to let it go again, while he plied her with questions. Where had she been ? What had she been doing ? Why had she never an swered his letters ? What was she doing here ? “I want the fellows to meet you, Marian,” he said as they walked into the church. “Particularly I want you to meet my roommate, David Hillman. He is the kind you will approve.” After the service, Nelson hurried out of the church. “David,” he called to two of the college students who were walking a few yards away. One of them turned and came slowly back. Marian looked at him with interest. He would have attracted attention anywhere. Tall, above the average, his face was thin and dark and suggested great strength of character and sweetness of spirit. But there was a depth and earnestness, about the fine dark eyes that made him almost magnetic. Nelson introduced them, and after a few minutes he said, with a little laugh, “I am taking Miss Linton home, Dave. See you later.” And as they started to walk away, he said with a twinkle in his eye, “Which way do we go, Marian? I don’t seem to remember your address very well.” She laughed aloud; he was the same old Nelson. At their totally unexpected meeting, the chasm of the years had seemed to be bridged in an instant by mutual consent. “Why did you run away from us all, Marian? What made you do it ? Can’t you tell me now ?” he coaxed. “I don’t know, Nelson. I was so unhappy, so miser able.” Her voice trembled just a little. “I lost my faith in God, and then I found I had no faith left in my friends, or in anything. I was a coward—and I ran away and hid myself.”
“These jewels are yours, Beatrice, my child.” The ex quisite, deep voice faltered a moment and then went on, “They belonged to your father’s mother, and she wore them often. Lovely as they are, however, they could add nothing to the beauty of her soul or the brilliancy of her mind—a beauty and a brilliancy that I delight to find in you, her granddaughter#^? “And who are you, may I ask!” It was Lawrence’s maiden aunt who spoke, the chief opponent of the young girl before them. The Unknown smiled at Uncle Alan, who nodded. He turned to his secretary: “Giovanni, introduce me.” The secretary cleared his throat and, in excellent English, began: “One of my lord’s earlier ancestors was Sancho the Wise, the King of Navarre, whose daughter, Berengaria, became the queen of Richard the Lion Hearted. Her sis ter Blanche—” but the Unknown interrupted. “I asked you,” he said humorously, to introduce me, and not my ancestors. I am not to blame for them, nor they for me, God rest them!” But the excellent factotum was not so easily diverted. He directed a glowering look toward Lawrence’s aunt, and continued, “The satin tunic which the Lady Beatrice wears is the gift of her uncle, and is a copy of one worn by Coeur de Lion when he was married on the Island of Cyprus to Ber engaria. It is said to have been given by his mother Eleanor of Aquitaine. My—” At this point, Lawrence’s aunt created a diversion by rising and abruptly leaving. There was a moment’s pause, then the Unknown laughed. “The bad fairy has departed! Let the princess assume her diadem,” and he gently fitted the ornament upon Beat rice’s fair, fluffy hair. Many hearts were stirred, and the eyes of those who loved Beatrice were wet, as they gazed at her, wide-eyed and a little pale, but very lovely beneath the starry, flash ing gems. Her first look was for Lawrence, a pleading, longing look. He read it aright and came to her where she stood. What a picture they made—gallant, handsome Law rence, and Beatrice with her shy, old-world loveliness, en hanced and glorified by her royal attire! Beatrice turned to the Unknown and said, “This is my fiance and he is to give me my engagement ring—I mean, put it on—tonight. I ’ve had it since yes terday.” How small and insignificant Lawrence’s diamond looked beside the jewels of “Lady Beatrice.” Would she notice it? She did not seem to, but looked straight into the eyes of the young man whose chivalry had protected and won her. Uncle Alan rejoiced as he looked on, per ceiving that she valued the loyal heart Lawrence was giv ing her more than coronets, and “simple faith than Nor man blood.” “Lawrence and Beatrice! How happy they look!” Al thea whispered to Elise. “His people are rather stunned, aren’t they ? One of those old oaken bucket families of the daguerreotype period! They don’t know how to take i t !” Lawrence simply said, “I ’m giving you this ring, Beatrice, because I love you and want you for my wife.” The rose color of Beatrice’s tunic seemed to have gotten into her cheeks, and her radiant smile was brighter than all her flashing stones. She took the beautiful diadem from her head and looked at it for a long moment. “I ’ve been thinking,” she said softly, “of a day that is coming when we are to meet the One who loved us and
Made with FlippingBook - Online catalogs