CHAPTER XXIX

CROWNED WITH JOY

Eighteen months had gone by since Ralph's death. Nothing of any unusual nature had occurred to Phebe or her household, except the completion of the Garden Scheme and the settling of the dispute between Hugh Black and his men. It had been a true resting-time, without any strain, without any need to study ways and means, and without any attempt to advance in any direction so far as outward things were concerned. And yet Phebe did not feel satisfied; there was something missing, life did not satisfy her in its present outlook. During Ralph's illness all her outside work had been given up, others had stepped in and carried it on, and she had never got back to her old place again entirely. This was not through any unwillingness on her part, it was simply that the way did not open up.

While Ralph was away there had always been a sense of strain and tension which had buoyed her on and on. Now that was removed, and there was no necessity to be on the alert, there had crept over her a weariness and la.s.situde.

"Nanna," she suddenly said one day, "I am going to leave you."

"Going to leave me!--never!"

"Not for long, you dear; you may rest on that. But I have thought I should like to get right away for three or four weeks. I want to view my life from a distance--that is, if I can. If I get away from my everyday surroundings perhaps I could see it more clearly. I'm not satisfied with it."

"But you would take somebody with you? Your sister?"

"No, not my sister; I should be all the time viewing _her_ life if I did."

"Well, then, take Jack. I should not like you to go alone."

"Yes, I might take Jack."

So the two started on their journey alone, and only Nanna and Aunt Lizzie knew whither they were bound, both of whom were strictly charged to keep the matter secret.

What the mountains are to the Swiss, the sea is to the islander. Phebe and her boy settled down at a watering-place on the east coast, the lad finding endless amus.e.m.e.nt and instruction among the fishermen, while the mother sat on the green cliffs under the shadowing of blossoming trees, watching the course of the distant river, and the great steamers pa.s.sing by bound for foreign sh.o.r.es, but intent mostly with the study of the past and future. The steamers made steady progress, but the same could not be said of the personal studies. Day followed day, but no progress was made. She was just where she was when she first came.

"Show me Thy will, O G.o.d," she prayed. "Thou knowest my heart is willing for it."

One very warm day she had her sunshade up to keep off a darting sunbeam that would keep dancing on her book, and did not notice a gentleman taking a seat not two yards away from her. When it was nearly time to meet Jack for their evening stroll she suddenly became aware of her neighbour. Both sunshade and book dropped from her hands--only one word escaped her lips, and it was--

"Stephen!"

Not even in a moment's excitement would he have called her "Phebe"

unless in some way she had given him permission, but here it was, and eagerly he grasped it. "Phebe!" and their out-stretched hands met in a tight clasp.

"What brought you here?" Phebe was the first to speak.

"I may ask the same," said Stephen. "But sit down again; this is a quiet spot, and I should like to talk to you." So they sat down again, but close together this time. "I came here," continued Stephen, "to have a quiet time to think things over and to know G.o.d's will. Not a creature in Hadley knows where I am. I have long wanted to ask you to be my wife, as I did years ago, and during all the years since then no one has taken your place in my heart--no one ever could. Whether you accept my love, or not, you are still, as ever, my queen." His voice had sunk to a whisper. He knew from the pressure of her hand that it was not likely she would refuse it. "I would have spoken to you before this, but I was afraid--I thought you shrank from me. Forgive me, dearest, if I wronged you."

"You have nothing to forgive. I only seemed to shrink from you because I feared"--it seemed so hard to get the words out, but he wanted to hear, so did not help her at all--"I feared lest you might not respond to my love."

"What, after waiting all these years! Never mind, you shall not reproach yourself. I ought to have shown you more of my heart. But, tell me, will you have this grey-haired fellow for your very own?"

They looked into each other's eyes, the answer was there plainly enough.

"You know I will," said Phebe, "but I've nothing to give that is worthy such patient love."

"That is my business," he said, with a laugh, "so don't trouble about that."

"Shall I tell you what brought me here? I was so restless, I wanted to quietly review my life and plan something for the future. Only Nanna and Lizzie know where we are. Jack is with me. But I have been just as restless, and I prayed only an hour ago, 'Show me Thy will, O G.o.d.' G.o.d must have sent you to me."

"I'm sure He did, my Phebe." There was such a glad ring in the voice.

"If only we could be young again!"

"Look at the sky, dearest!" There were bars of light and dark in the western sky, and above these a flock of tiny clouds. Along the edge of the horizon ran a line of rosy light. Presently the bars merged into dark purple clouds, the cloudlets above took on a rosy light, the glory widened from below and from above, till the whole western sky was aflame with radiant beauty. "That is like our life, dearest," Stephen whispered, putting his arm round her as they sat. "All our clouds which memory may bring or the future reveal are going to be made beautiful, covered all over with rosy love."

"But it's evening, Stephen," she whispered, "the darkness is creeping on," and he felt that she was trembling.

"But we are together. Besides, no ill.u.s.tration can be strained too far: it's evening in the heavens but mid-day in our lives."

"Well I never!"--it was Jack's voice. (Was there ever stranger ending to a wooing!) "Are you two chums?" Evidently he was feeling very annoyed.

His mother having failed to meet him at the appointed time and place he had come in search of her.

Stephen jumped up at once, seized hold of the lad with loving hands, and compelled him to sit down between them. "Yes, we're chums," said Stephen, in his old bright manner, "and we want to tell you how it came about."

Jack's face looked rather dark, and he muttered: "This is why, then, mummy wanted to come here so much."

"No, it was not," said Stephen firmly, and then he told him of their unexpected meeting, of how G.o.d had seemingly led them both on the path, and of his (Stephen's) boyhood love for his mother. And all the time Phebe said never a word, but sat looking at the two with eyes full of love.

"Ah!" said Jack, with a sigh of relief, "I don't mind now. I thought you'd been keeping it dark from me. But, I say, if you take mummy, you'll have to take me as well! Else what will become of me?"

"Of course I shall; the fact is, we'll all be chums together, won't we?"

"Rather!" said Jack. "I call this spiffin," and then their hands seemed to get all mixed up together.

The next day Stephen had a particular request to make. It was that, seeing he had waited for his love so long, they should be married at once, and Phebe felt she could not refuse him.

Nanna, Aunt Lizzie, Bessie, Reynolds and Jones were all communicated with at once, and on a given day the three establishments were closed, all a.s.sistants given a holiday, and the above-named individuals summoned to the ceremony. To please Jack he was allowed to give his mother away, and Reynolds was the bridegroom's best man.

Bessie--the Bessie of old!--was delighted. "This is what I call fine!

I'm as happy as if I were being married to my dear 'Darling Jones' over again!" Nanna was just as radiant; her old dream after all had come true!

Once more during the honeymoon Phebe referred to the past. "If only we could have started our life together! How was it I was so blind? Why did not my heart respond to your love as it does now? Nanna was not nearly so blind as I was," and then she told Stephen of Mrs. Colston's guesses that afternoon in the old kitchen where the mangle was.

"I cannot answer your questions, dearest; but I am sure you are the richer women to-day for the trials you have had."

"Yes, Nanna said that day, when I told her I was a Christian, that to be a full Christian was a matter of development, that there were many creases in my nature G.o.d had to mangle out. I am afraid there are many creases still left."

"Yes, though we may be blameless before G.o.d our education is still going on."

"But I have been far from blameless. I have often thought if I had entered more into Ralph's ambitions it would have been better and his end would have been different. What if I should bring defeat into your life too!"

"Dearest! you have brought nothing but inspiration into my life. You are not to have these sad thoughts. I was not brave enough in the past to show my love, or you might have seen it in a plainer manner--and all would have been different. But we neither of us acted from selfishness.

You considered at the time you acted rightly by resisting Ralph's restlessness. G.o.d will never blame us for not acting up to any light that was hidden from us. If we have made mistakes in the past G.o.d has forgiven us, and therefore we should put the past entirely from us."