REUNITED.
THE remainder of that year saw a steady, persevering effort on the part
of all to walk in the path of duty, and be loving, sympathetic, and
unselfish one towards the other. It might well give their mother joy to
witness the good seed taking root and springing up in her children's
hearts, and she prayed daily that they and her husband might all be
spared so that the beginning of another year might find them once more
a united and happy family.
Not the least of her mercies did she reckon Dora's restoration
to health. On returning home she cheerfully obeyed the doctor's
directions, and being careful not to overtax her strength, and only
to resume her duties as she felt fully able to discharge them, her
recovery was more rapid than her mother had dared to hope.
And Lancie, though he would always be delicate and never have the use
of his poor withered limb, was better than he had been for years. Then
it was found that he possessed great ability for drawing, and in the
little cripple's heart there had sprung up a hope that, if he studied
patiently and perseveringly, he might eventually earn his living as an
artist. Other men, with weaker and more deformed bodies than his, had
done it, and why not he? This hope, which he kept locked in his own
heart, was a source of happiness to Lancie, and took away much that had
helped to make him joyless and gloomy.
So time passed on. The Christmas holidays came and went; lessons
at home and at school were again begun; and in a few days the ship
in which Mr. Grainger had left Sydney was expected to arrive at
Southampton.
It was evening; tea had been cleared away, and all excepting Phil,
who was building a wonderful house of wooden bricks, and Olive and
Lottie, who were making dolls' clothes, were intent either upon books
or lessons. Stay though, there was one more exception—Mrs. Grainger was
busy at her not unusual occupation of darning stockings, in which work
she paused occasionally to hear Lancie repeat the tenses of a French
verb.
Two or three of the party remembered afterwards that they had heard the
front door bell ring; but nobody was paying any attention to what was
going on outside, till suddenly the sound of Mary's voice fell upon
their ears. So still was the room, and so eager and excited were her
tones, that her words were distinctly audible.
"Why, sir, it is yourself, sure enough. Oh, won't they be glad! But
they wasn't expectin' you for a day or two yet."
Then another voice was heard, and at the first sound, a little cry
escaped Mrs. Grainger's lips. She rose hurriedly from her seat, and
the next moment was in the hall. The children followed her, and then
there was a shout, a rush, a crowding round a tall, bearded figure in
an overcoat, while exclamations of delight and welcome, kisses, sobbing
and laughter, were mixed together in wild confusion.
It was some little time before it was understood that, owing to the
favourable weather, the good ship "Seabird" had completed the voyage
sooner than was expected, and wishing to give his wife and children a
glad surprise, Mr. Grainger had come straight from port without giving
notice of his arrival in England. His anticipations of that meeting
were not disappointed.
Mary had had her handshake, and, pleased and grateful for the goodwill
it betokened, had retired to the kitchen. And while she busied herself
in "getting out the tea-things for master," she constantly wiped away
her tears at the sounds of rejoicing that reached her.
What an evening that was! Phil got sleepy at last and asked to be put
to bed, but all the rest sat up till midnight. They felt they could not
tear themselves away from the presence of the dear father who had been
absent so long. And how they loved him! Had they ever known how much
before that evening, they wondered.
Presently, when the clock gave warning that some of them must begin
to think about saying good-night, and after a pause that seemed made
because the happiness in that little room had grown almost too great
for words, Edgar, in obedience to the wish he read in the faces of his
brothers and sisters, became spokesman for them all.
"Father, you left us a trust—a charge," he said; and, having risen from
his seat next his mother, he laid his hand gently on her shoulder. "We
have not fulfilled it as we ought, as we might have done, but I think
we can honestly say we have not been wholly forgetful, and have each
done something to prove it."
"I know that, dear boy," was his father's reply. "Your mother's letters
told me a great deal; the rest I could fill in for myself. I thank
you all for taking such good care of her, and for striving to do your
utmost to relieve and help her in every way you could. It was the
truest way in which you could show your love for me."
"Father, I didn't; I added to her troubles." The words came from Dora.
She said them eagerly, impulsively, as was sometimes her manner.
And no sooner had her voice died away than Robert was heard saying
sorrowfully,—
"You know what I did. I have been the worst of all."
"My boy, you fell grievously," said Mr. Grainger, gravely but fondly,
"but you were sorry, and God forbid that I should ever bring up your
sin against you. Be thankful you profited by your bitter experience.
Your repentance brought your promise to your memory, and I know you
have striven to keep it, for you have struggled with your besetting
sins, and are steadily and surely overcoming them. Robert, I do not
think we need speak of the past again."
No, there was no need; he felt that, and he looked into his father's
face with a smile that was full of trust and full of love.
"And I have tried to keep the promise, father."
"And I."
"And I."
Not one voice was silent, but some were confident and sure, and others
were doubtful and hesitating.
"I know you have, each one of you, though some have tried more bravely
and thoroughly than the rest. Now let us resolve that from this time
we will strive still more earnestly to love our Heavenly Father and to
please and serve Him. Then our love for each other will increase and
deepen, for he that loveth God will love his brother also. Children,
kneel with me, and let us offer hearty thanks to Him who has permitted
us all meet together again in safety, and let us, too, ask His blessing
upon the future that awaits us."
A heartfelt prayer is never offered in vain, and with that blessing
resting upon them, we may be sure the efforts of the again united
family were not fruitless. We may be certain, too, that, with the love
of God binding them together and strengthening their love for each
other, there could be no happier household than that to which we must
now say good-bye.
THE END.
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GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LD., ST. JOHN'S HOUSE, CLERKENWELL ROAD, LONDON.