Free Silver Wings by Grace Livingston Hill Page A

it at all? He had asked for it more in the way of sentimentality. He did not even seem to know what it was. He had called it a “little book.” It would have meant just as much to him if it had been a volume of essays or Shakespeare. Would he ever open it? Or would he wear it superstitiously as a protection from danger, the way people wore a rabbit’s foot on a ribbon around their necks?
    Suddenly she laid the silver trinket down upon her bed and dropped on her knees beside it. She had promised to pray for him, and her heart at that moment went out with a great longing that he might know God and understand what it meant to be a saved one—that he might be protected and guarded from the dangers of the air, the perils of the sea, and brought back safely; or if not, then saved and brought Home.
    She was surprised at herself for the fervor of her petition. She had often prayed earnestly for the conversion of friends, of her Sunday school class, but had never felt such a strong impulse to beg for God’s mercy on any other as she now felt. It was as if she suddenly realized his great need, as if the perils of his profession—or was it only his play?—had taken a deep hold upon her and something outside herself was urging her to prayer, urging her to a new faith that filled her with a kind of exaltation, that even brought tears to her eyes as she prayed. She did not understand herself. She was half ashamed of herself to pray so earnestly for one who was an utter stranger. Was she falling for the things he had said that morning? Was she losing her head to a pair of handsome eyes and a strong chin? To pleasant words and a charming manner? Was she just like other fool girls after all? Had it done her no good to be brought up by dear Aunts Hannah and Jocelyn? “Oh, God, forgive me if I am a fool!” she prayed. “And I know I must be, for I never acted this way before, but please take care of Gareth, and save him for Thyself.”
    She got up from her knees then and firmly put away the wings as if they were something she ought not to look upon. She even locked her suitcase and then went soberly back to her work and applied herself so diligently that only now and then did her eyes stray to the far blue spaces out her window where she had seen the great bird disappear that morning. It was presumable that if he should return, he would come back the same way, and he ought to be arriving within the next hour or two. If he should come, how must she conduct herself? How was she to keep out of his way? For that their acquaintance should go no further was, of course, the only possible thing under the circumstances. She must get away from the thought of him. And if he returned, she must give back those wings.
    Or should she? It might look as if she wanted her Testament back again, and if it could do him any possible good, she wanted him to keep it. Perhaps it would be better just to keep out of sight and ignore the whole thing if he returned.
    Nevertheless, her eyes would stray now and then to the faraway blue, but no dim speck in the distance drew near and developed into a great ship as on the day before, and the shadows grew long on the grass, the young people returned from the country club, and still the birdman had not come.

Chapter 5
    D own in the woods near the ravine, Miss Robin Hood stumbled along on her little high-heeled olive-green suede shoes and set her lips more firmly. She knew these shoes were not designed for climbing down ravines, nor for fishing along a muddy stream, but she had bigger fish to catch than mere brook trout, and the shoes were a part of her outfit, so she bore the discomfort.
    It was somewhat of a puzzle to know which way to turn, but Diana was a girl of unerring instincts, and she followed those now. They brought her out at last, downstream, to a quiet pool that looked deep and cool and was only flecked with dimpling sunshine here and there; a pool where hemlocks dipped and touched their dripping fronds,