FAREWELL.
But it was more difficult than Phebe anticipated to resist the urgent
entreaties of Felix and Hilda not to sever the bond that had existed
between them so long. Her devotion to them in the past had made them
feel secure of its continuance, and to quit England, leaving her behind,
seemed impossible. But Mr. Clifford's reiterated supplications that she
would not forsake him in his old age drew her as powerfully the other
way. Scarcely a day passed without a few lines, written by his own
feeble and shaking hand, reaching her, beseeching and demanding of her a
solemn promise to stay in England as long as he lived. Jean Merle said
nothing, even when she went down to visit them, urged by Canon Pascal to
set before Mr. Clifford the strong reasons there were for her to
accompany the party of emigrants; but Phebe knew that Jean Merle's life,
with its unshared memories and secrets, would be still more dreary if
she went away. After she had seen these two she wavered no more.
It was a larger party of emigrants than any one had foreseen; for it was
no sooner known that Canon Pascal was leaving England as a colonial
Bishop, than many men and women came forward anxious to go out and found
new homes under his auspices. He was a well-known advocate of
emigration, and it was rightly deemed a singular advantage to have him
as a leader as well as their spiritual chief. Canon Pascal threw himself
into the movement with ardor, and the five months elapsing before he set
sail were filled with incessant claims upon his time and thought, while
all about him were drawn into the strong current of his work. Phebe was
occupied from early morning till late at night, and a few hours of deep
sleep, which gave her no time for thinking of her own future, was all
the rest she could command. Even Felix, who had scarcely shaken off the
depression caused by his mother's sudden death, found a fresh
fountain-head of energy and gladness in sharing Canon Pascal's new
career, and in the immediate prospect of marrying Alice.
For in addition to all the other constant calls upon her, Phebe was
plunged into the preparations needed for this marriage, which was to
take place before they left England. There was no longer any reason to
defer it for lack of means, as Felix had inherited his share of his
mother's settlement. But Phebe drew largely on her own resources to send
out for them the complete furnishing of a home as full of comfort, and
as far as possible, as full of real beauty, as their Essex rectory had
been. She almost stripped her studio of the sketches and the finished
pictures which Felix and Hilda had admired, sighing sometimes, and
smiling sometimes, as they vanished from her sight into the packing
cases, for the times that were gone by, and for the pleasant surprise
that would greet them, in that far-off land, when their eyes fell upon
the old favorites from home.
Felix and Hilda spent a few days at Riversborough with Mr. Clifford, but
Phebe would not go with them, in spite of their earnest desire; and Jean
Merle, their kinsman, was absent, only coming home the night before they
bade their last farewell to their birth-place. He appeared to them a
very silent and melancholy man, keeping himself quite in the background,
and unwilling to talk much about his own country and his relationship
with their grandmother's family. But they had not time to pay much
attention to him; the engrossing interest of spending the few last hours
amid these familiar places, so often and so fondly to be remembered in
the coming years, made them less regardful of this stranger, who was
watching them with undivided and despairing interest. No word or look
escaped him, as he accompanied them from room to room, and about the
garden walks, unable to keep himself away from this unspeakable torture.
Mr. Clifford wept, as old men weep, when they bade him good-by; but
Felix was astonished by the fixed and mournful expression of inward
anguish in Jean Merle's eyes, as he held his hand in a grasp that would
not let him go.
"I may never see you again," he said, "but I shall hear of you."
"Yes," answered Felix, "we shall write frequently to Mr. Clifford, and
you will answer our letters for him."
"God bless you!" said Jean Merle. "God grant that you may be a truer
and a happier man than your father was."
Felix started. This man, then, knew of his father's crime; probably knew
more of it than he did. But there was no time to question him now; and
what good would it do to hear more than he knew already? Hilda was
standing near to him waiting to say good-by, and Jean Merle, turning to
her, took her into his arms, and pressed her closely to his heart. A
sudden impulse prompted her to put her arm round his neck as she had
done round old Mr. Clifford's, and to lift up her face for his kiss. He
held her in his embrace for a few moments, and then, without another
word spoken to them, he left them and they saw him no more. The marriage
was celebrated a few days after this visit, and not long before the time
fixed for the Bishop and his large band of emigrants to sail. Under
these circumstances the ceremony was a quiet one. The old rectory was in
disorder, littered with packing cases, and upset from cellar to garret.
Even when the wedding was over both Phebe and Hilda were too busy for
sentimental indulgence. The few remaining days were flying swiftly past
them all, and keeping them in constant fear that there would not be
time enough for all that had to be done.
But the last morning came, when Phebe found herself standing amid those
who were so dear to her on the landing-stage, with but a few minutes
more before they parted from her for years, if not forever. Bishop
Pascal was already gone on board the steamer standing out in the river,
where the greater number of emigrants had assembled. But Felix and Alice
and Hilda lingered about Phebe till the last moment. Yet they said but
little to one another; what could they say which would tell half the
love or half the sorrow they felt? Phebe's heart was full. How gladly
would she have gone out with these dear children, even if she left
behind her her little birth-place on the hills, if it had not been for
Mr. Clifford and Jean Merle!
"But they need me most," she said again and again to herself. "I stay,
and must stay, for their sakes." As at length they said farewell to one
another, Hilda clinging to her as a child clings to the mother it is
about to leave, Phebe saw at a little distance Jean Merle himself,
looking on. She could not be mistaken, though his sudden appearance
there startled her; and he did not approach them, nor even address her
when they were gone. For when her eyes, blinded with tears, lost sight
of the outward-bound vessel amid the number of other craft passing up
and down the river, and she turned to the spot where she had seen his
gray head and sorrowful face he was no longer there. Alone and sad at
heart, she made her way through the tumult of the landing-stage and
drove back to the desolate home she had shared so long with those who
were now altogether parted from her.