The Beloved Stranger

Chapter 21




Sherrill, filled with a startled premonition that clouded her eagerness over the package, tore off the wrappings and pulled out the little bundle in its cover of silk, shook out the bit of lingerie, a sort of consternation beginning to dawn in her face. This was her own, one of the things that had been in Arla’s suitcase!

Then she recognized the little leather case and snapped open the catch, dropping out the note that Arla had written. It fell unheeded to the floor.

But there were no lovely little bottles in the case! What was this, just handkerchiefs? She pulled them out, just catching the heavy little lump knotted in the handkerchief, before it fell.

With hands that trembled now with excitement, she unknotted the corners of linen that Arla had tied so hastily, and stood staring as the gleam of the great green stones flashed out to her astonished gaze.

“Oh, Aunt Pat! It’s come! My emerald necklace has come back! Look! The stones are all here! Gemmie! Oh, Gemmie! Where are you? The emerald necklace has come back! It’s found! It’s found! Oh, isn’t it wonderful that I should find it just now?”

Gemmie hurried in from the bathroom where she had been pretending to pick up the towels and place clean ones. Her eyes were still suspiciously red, and she came and stood there looking at the jewels, the most amazed, embarrassed, mortified woman whom one could find, heartily ashamed at all she had been thinking and doing, almost half suspicious yet.

“Where did they come from?” she asked sharply. “Who took them?”

“What does it matter now?” sang Sherrill. “They’re here and I don’t have to worry anymore! Oh, I’m so glad, so glad!”

“What’s this on the floor?” said Aunt Pat, whose sharp eyes had sighted the twisted note.

Gemmie stooped down and handed the note to Sherrill, and Sherrill read it aloud. Read the name, too, Arla McArthur, and never thought how that last part was once to have been her own.

“Oh, Miss Sherrill!” Her voice was shaking with emotion. “It certainly is wonderful. And I’m that ashamed! And me thinking all this time—!”

But nobody was listening to Gemmie. Aunt Pat asked to see the note, and Sherrill handed it happily over to her. She read it carefully, and then with her little wry smile and a twinkle in her eye, she remarked, “So you dropped it in the suitcase when you were packing! Well, it may be so, Sherrill! Of course it may be so!”

Then when Gemmie had gone out of the room on some errand, she said, “Well, Sherrill, I’m glad you learned to trust him before it turned up!” and met with a wicked little grin and another twinkle of her bright eyes her niece’s indignant denial that she had ever done anything but trust him.



An hour later, dressed once more in her wedding satin, with the long silvery folds flowing out behind her, and the soft veil blossom-wreathed upon her head, Sherrill stood before her mirror. The faithful Gemmie knelt beside her, arranging the folds of her train.

Someone tapped at the door and handed in a big box.

“It’ll be your flowers,” said Gemmie in an awestruck voice. She brought in the box and opened it, carefully taking out the lovely bridal bouquet of wedding roses and lilies.

“It’s much, much nicer than the other one, Miss Sherrill,” she said in deep satisfaction as her eyes gloated over the flowers. “They’re a better quality of flower; they are indeed! And I like the white ribbons much better than the silver. It comes from the most expensive place in the city, too; it really does. They have all the quality orders—they! They really do!”

“Oh, you dear old silly,” said Sherrill affectionately. “But it is lovely, isn’t it? I like it better, too!”

“Well, I like yer man, Miss Sherrill, I’ll say that!” added Gemmie shamefacedly. “And now I’ll just be running over to see if Miss Pat wants anything. And mind you don’t go to playing any more pranks on us, slipping in another woman on me for a bride,” she added anxiously.

“No, Gemmie, I’ll stay right here this time,” laughed Sherrill. “I won’t give this man up to any other girl!”

So Sherrill stood before her mirror in her bridal array once more and looked into her own mirrored eyes. Happy eyes this time, without a shade of fear or hesitation in them. Eyes full of trust and hope. And suddenly as she faced herself, she closed her eyes and lifted her head and spoke into the silent room: “Dear God, I thank You that You took away what I thought I wanted, even though it hurt, and gave me what You had kept for me. Oh, make me worthy of such joy, and make me always ready to yield to Your will.”

Silently she stood with bowed head for a moment more, and then with a lovely light in her face, she lifted her head and went to meet her bridegroom at the head of the stairs.

The little assembly of congenial guests were waiting for them as the two walked down the stairs. An old musician friend of Aunt Pat’s was playing the wedding march on the piano, and the minister stood waiting before a hastily assembled background of palms and ferns. Sherrill walked into the room on the arm of her bridegroom and took her place to be married, her heart swelling with joy and peace.

It was a simple ceremony, few words, solemn pledges, another ring to go with her diamond, and dear people coming up to congratulate her. There was one fine old gentleman among them, a friend of Graham’s father, who told her what a wonderful man she was getting, and wished her the simple earnest wishes of a bygone day.

And there were amazing presents. Some of them had been sent here before and returned, and returned again now, laughingly, because their donors had had no time to get something new. And there was a happy little time with a few tears at the end. Then Sherrill kissed Aunt Pat and Gemmie, too, and in her pretty dark-blue going-away dress that she had never worn until now, was whisked off in Aunt Pat’s car to the airport, and taken in an airplane to New York. An hour later the ship weighed anchor and set sail for South America. It didn’t seem possible that all this had happened since the golden-hearted roses arrived that morning.

Sherrill and her beloved stranger husband stood at last on deck in a quiet place alone. They watched the lights of their native land disappear into the distance, looked at the great moonlit ocean all about them, and clung closer together.

“To think that God saw all this ahead for me, and saved me from making such a terrible mistake!” said Sherrill softly.

“He knoweth the end from the beginning,” quoted Graham, holding her hand close in his own and looking down into her sweet eyes.

“Yes, but the best of all is,” said Sherrill after a little pause, “that He brought me to know Himself. Graham, if I hadn’t been stopped in what I thought I wanted most of all in the world, I would never likely have known the Lord Jesus, nor have found out what a wonderful book the Bible is.”

“And I perhaps would never have found a girl who knew my heavenly Father!” said Graham. “His will is always best.”

Then softly he began to sing, and her voice blended with his tenderly:

“Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!

Hold o’er my being absolute sway!

Fill with Thy Spirit till all shall see

Christ only, always, living in me!”





GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL (1865–1947) is known as the pioneer of Christian romance. Grace wrote more than a hundred faith-inspired books during her lifetime. When her first husband died, leaving her with two daughters to raise, writing became a way to make a living, but she always recognized storytelling as a way to share her faith in God. She has touched countless lives through the years and continues to touch lives today. Her books feature moving stories, delightful characters, and love in its purest form.