THE RETURN.
Spring came with its new life and promise, sweetly and serenely to the
home and heart of Barton's mother, who was looking and hoping for his
return, with a strong, intense, but silent yearning. For herself,
for his brothers, and more for Julia, whom she now understood, and
tenderly loved, and whose secret was sacred to her woman's heart; and
most of all for Barton's own sake; for she knew that when these two
met, the shadow that had surrounded them would disappear. Some pang
she felt that there should be to him a dearer one; but she knew that
Julia did not come between them, and that nothing would chill that
side of his heart--the child side--that was next her own.
On Wednesday morning Julia had galloped up and given her Bart's letter
of Tuesday, so that she knew he was in Chardon, well and hopeful, and
would return to her as soon as he escaped from his trial.
Thursday evening Dr. Lyman came all aglow from Chardon. He had seen
Bart and heard his argument, and all the enthusiasm of his nature was
fully excited.
Now on this long, warm Friday--the anniversary of his departure--he
was to come; and naturally enough she looked to see him come the way
he went--from the east. Often, even before noon, she turned her eyes
wistfully down the road, and until it met the rise the other side of
the little valley, so on up past the red school house, and was lost
over the summit; but the road was empty and lonely.
As the afternoon ran toward evening, she began to grow anxious.
Suddenly the sound of wheels caught her ear, and she turned as Judge
Markham's grays headed up to her gate. She recognized Julia, who,
without waiting to be helped, sprang lightly from the carriage, with
her face radiant, and bounding to her threw her arms about her neck.
"Oh, mother--my mother now--he is here. I met him in those blessed
woods and brought him to you."
Then she made room for him, and for a moment the mother's arms
encircled them both. How glad and happy she was, no man may know; as
no man understands, and no woman can reveal, the depth and strength of
mother love.
The three in happy tears--tears, that soon vanish, went into the dear
old house, into whose every room Bart rushed in a moment, calling for
the boys, and asking a thousand unanswered questions, and coming back,
with a flood of words, half tears and half laughs.
"So, Bart," said the proud and happy mother, "it is all right," with a
look towards Julia. "I knew it would be."
"And, mother, you knew it, too?"
"A woman sees where a man is blind, sometimes," she answered. "And
boys must find these things out for themselves. Poor boy, I wanted
somebody to whisper it to you."
"Somebody has done so, mother, and I am now so glad that it was left
for that one to tell me."
The boys came in, and were a little overwhelmed, even George, with the
warmth of their brother's reception. Julia went straight to George,
saying, "Now, sir, you belong to me; you are to be my dear
youngest brother! What a row of handsome brothers I shall
have--there!--there!"--with a kiss for each word.
George at first did not quite comprehend: "Julia, are you going to be
Bart's wife?"
"Yes," with a richer color.
"When?"
"Hush! That isn't a question for you to ask." And she bent over him
with another low sweet "hush," that he understood.
Soon the Colonel and his sweet young wife came in, and they all came
to know that Julia was one of them; and she knew what warm, true
hearts had come so suddenly about her with their strong, steady
tenderness.
Then, as the sun fell among the western tree tops, Julia said to Mrs.
Ridgeley, "Now Arthur must drive me home; his other mother has not
seen him; and to-morrow I will bring him to you. He is to remain with
us, and we will come and go between our two homes for, I don't know
how long; until he grows stout and strong, and has run through all the
woods, and visited all the dear old places, and grows weary of us, and
sighs for Blackstone, and all those horrid books."
She took her happy place by his side in the carriage, after kissing
them all, including Ed, and they drove leisurely away.
As they went, he told her gaily of the lonely walk, in darkness,
when he last went over this road. The sketch brought new tears to the
tender eyes at his side.
"Oh, Arthur! if you could have only known! if you had come to me for
one moment."
"Today could never have come," he interrupted. "I like it as it is.
How could I ever have had the beautiful revelation of your high and
heroic qualities, Julia? And we could not have met as we did
this morning. The very memory of that meeting equals the hope and
blessedness of Heaven."
Down past the quiet houses they rode; through bits of woods that still
fringed parts of the road; down past the old saw mill; up over the
hill, where they paused to look over the beautiful pond, full to its
high banks; then to the State road, and south over the high hills,
overlooking the little cemetery, towards which Bart looked tenderly.
"Not to-night, love," said Julia; "their beautiful spirits see and
love, and go with us."
So in the twilight, and with a pensive and serene happiness, they
passed up through the straggling village, Julia and her lover, to her
own home.
It had somehow been made known that Bart would that evening arrive.
His trunk had been received by the stage, at the stage house, and a
group of curious persons were on the look out in front of Parker's, as
they drove past. When Bart lifted his hat, they recognized and greeted
him with a hearty cheer; which was repeated when the carriage passed
the store. Bart was deeply touched.
"You see," said the happy Julia, "that everybody loves you."
"You see they greet us on your account," he answered.
A little group was also at her father's gate, and as Bart sprang out,
Julia's mother took him by both hands.
"So you have come at last, and will be one of us."
Just how he answered, or how Julia alighted, he could never tell.
This was the final touch and test, and if the whole did not vanish, he
should certainly accept it all as real.
"What a sweet and wonderful little romance it all is," said the happy
mother; "and to happen to us here, in this new, wild, humdrum region!
Who shall say that God does not order, and that heroism does not
exist; and that faithful love is not still rewarded."
"Mrs. Markham"--
"Call me mother!" said that lady; "I have long loved you, and thought
of you as my son."
"And your husband?" said Bart.
"Is here to answer for himself," said the Judge, entering. He came
forward and greeted Bart warmly.
"Judge Markham," said Bart, holding each parent by a hand; "Julia and
I met by accident this morning, at the place where we were sheltered a
year ago. We found that no explanation was needed, and we there asked
God to bless our love and marriage. Of course we may have taken too
much for granted."
"No, no!" said the Judge, warmly, placing Julia's hand within his. "We
will now, and always, and ever, ask God to bless your love, and crown
it with a true and sacred marriage. Such as ours has been, my love,
won't we?"
"Certainly," answered Mrs. Markham. "And we take him to our home and
hearts as our true son."
Then all knelt, and the father's voice in reverent prayer and
thanksgiving, was for a moment lifted to the Great Father.
Later, they were quiet and happy, around a tea, or rather a supper
table. But Bart toyed with his fork, and sparkled with happy,
brilliant sallies. Julia watched him with real concern.
"Arthur," she said, "I am a woman; and a woman likes to see even
her lover eat. It is the mother part, isn't it, mamma?" blushing and
laughing, "that likes to see children feed. Now he has not eaten a
mouthful to-day; and I shall be anxious."
"For that matter he dined on a gill of milk, and one ounce of honey
yesterday," said the Judge, "Don't you ever eat?"
"And I shall shock him;" said Julia, "he will soon find that I am only
common vulgar flesh and blood, to be fed and nourished."
"Don't fear," said Bart; "I like a strong, healthy, deep chested
woman, who can live and endure. I am not the least bit of a Byron. And
now let me get used to this new heaven, into which you have just taken
me; let my heart get steady, if it will, in its great happiness. Let
me have some good runs in the woods, some good rows on the ponds, some
hard gallops. Let me get tired, and I'll astonish you with a famine."
"I shall be glad to see it," said Julia.
There came pleasant talk of trifles, that only lay about on the
surface, and near the great joy of their new happiness; and little
pleasantries of the Judge. He asked Julia, "how she liked the
moustache, suggesting that it might be in the way.
"I like it," said Julia, "and it isn't a bit in the way."
Then he referred to a certain other grave matter, and wanted to know
when?
"That isn't for you to ask, Papa Judge--is it, mamma?"