When shall I come to the top of that same hill?
----You do climb up it now; look how we labour.
--SHAKESPEARE.
A very busy six months followed first-class camp; the autumn full
of drills and study, the winter of examination, hard work, and the
Hundredth Night. With the opening spring poured in the usual flood of
tradesmen and their wares; company drills began, early visitors came,
and June was coming. The lower classmen, as usual, were on tiptoe with
glee and excitement; and, also as usual, were the ballasting thoughts
in many a first-class head. Questions of regiments, of posts, and of
girls.
But for Charlemagne Kindred all that was settled. If he were ordered
to the North Pole, and stationed on the tip end of it, he should still
take Cherry. And if he could not keep the wind from roughening her soft
hair, Lieutenant Kindred would be a much more incompetent person than
Cadet Charlemagne thought possible. Cherry was just the girl for Arctic
regions; she would sketch the icebergs, sing to the seals, and teach
them Greek. And in the long evenings by their driftwood fire, they
could plan out where to live when he wore three stars on his shoulder,
and was retired on full pay for special services as yet unknown.
A little soon for that, to be sure; but there is no harm in being
beforehand, even "quite some," as they say in New Jersey. They could
draw plans for the house, and so save on architects when the time came.
Other big questions came up for other men. Should this one assume
at once the debt which the dear home people shouldered so patiently
to send him to West Point? And how much can this other save from his
slender pay, to help educate his young brothers and sisters? It touches
one's heart to see the dainty articles of dress that are bought for the
girls at home, whose life has been chiefly homespun.
Then what work will they find to do at the strange, far-away posts?
Work in that other army to which, as boys, they were mustered in? For
there are many church members in the corps; and I doubt if there is
one to whom the old vows do not come up in mind before graduation.
Sometimes, perhaps, with a never-so-keen perception of what Paul meant
when he said: "I have finished my course; I have kept the faith." Paul
could have claimed the lower honours too; learned, skilled, an acute
theologian, a matchless writer. But no earthly plaudits were in his
thoughts; only the Lord's "Well done"; the crown which those Royal
hands would give him "at that day."
The spring flew on, tossing off its freight of snowdrops, violets,
columbine, and apple blossoms. Twenty-three days to June, twenty-two
days; then came more tidings.
Mr. Erskine was failing, so the mother wrote; failing steadily and
fast. It was doubtful if Magnus would see his friend again; and the
young cadet's heart went out with a great yearning to the lonely girl
of whom he would so soon be the chief earthly protector. And once again
Magnus gave thanks for that grace which had brought him through the
fire, and made him fit to take such a charge. But none of them could
come for graduation.
"Of course we cannot leave Cherry," so Violet wrote; "one of us is up
there all the time. Cherry looks like a white wind-flower. O, Magnus, I
wish you were here!" And Magnus gave a groan and turned to his tally:
twenty-one days to June.
But he did what he could. He wrote Cherry a letter every day, saying
everything he could to beguile her thoughts. He sent the last picture
of himself, and the class picture, and a photograph of the up-river
view. In every letter went his marks for the day, with what bits of
mischief or of news the Post could furnish. He told what girls he had
walked with, and of his rambles alone; giving her much to read and to
talk of. With all this he studied untiringly, refused invitations, went
up in his marks, and was often fagged enough when tattoo beat; but less
with the work than with excitement and tension.
He had applied for a regiment not then near San Carlos; but so much
depended upon how many men went to Willet's Point that he could guess
little as to his own placing. One thing was sure, he was learning
fast. Lessons of patience, of self-control, of trust; so winning true
promotion, day by day. Finding out also, with new understanding,
the exceeding helpfulness of prayer; learning to lay down cares and
questions at the feet of that blessed Lord Jesus who "doeth all things
well." Rank and post, life and death, could safely be left with Him! A
great peace and a great strength were in the face of Magnus Kindred in
those days.
If he seemed graver than usual, it was that with every chance his
thoughts flew away. Or, rather, were some of them always in that
far-off sick-room. For whoever else might be with her, Magnus knew,
unerringly, how Cherry's heart reached out for him. How, in every hard
moment, with every new token of the coming sorrow, the longing for him
leaped up and grew. Sometimes it made him almost desperate enough to
go, at all risks.
As a last comfort to himself and to her, Magnus took off his class ring
and expressed it on, bidding her wear it till he came to put another in
its place. She would not take it last summer, but she must _now_. And
there was no telling what that ring was to the girl, and to her father
as well, making the bond so tangible and real. Cherry studied it in
her lonely night watches, and Mr. Erskine's heart gave thanks at every
gleam of the stone as her hands' sweet ministry came about him. While
far away, Magnus, on his part, was verifying and honouring all their
trust.
So came on June, with her rose-trimmed slippers; and it seemed that
first summer afternoon as if the whole countryside poured down upon
West Point. Long before four o'clock the seats were full, then crowded;
the wagon-load of campstools vanished as they came; and soon even
standing-room was at a premium. And when the Board of Visitors had
reviewed the Corps, and the Corps the Board, everybody who had the
right crowded in to the reception, while the left-out throng whirled
round with one accord, and sat staring with all its eyes at the open
door and solid front of the Superintendent's quarters. If only X-rays
had been on hand! The interest grew to a keen point when the first
class (all together then, though now they go scattering in) passed
through the gate, doffed their plumed hats, and vanished within the
doorway.
Magnus was claimed by old friends and presented to new, had a great
grip of Mr. Wayne's hand, and brought little Miss Bee a plate of
lobster salad deeply bordered with sunshine.
I think Cadet Charlemagne had learned a little more about girls than he
once knew; and the light and colour that came into this particular shy
face at sight of him, smote him with a sense of at least possible past
mistakes. She had no need to think so much of his small civilities.
And Mr. Kindred bowed himself away, and made merry in a gauzy circle
of colours near by. And then, when Miss Bee looked so left out in the
cold, Magnus rushed up again, took her plate, brought her an ice, and
made things worse than ever. Manlike, he thought the fast-and-loose
plan worked to admiration.
Now privately, Miss Bee cared nothing for lobster and very little for
ice; but it felt so good to be noticed and to have something to do,
that I think she hardly knew what she had. And had not Mr. Kindred said
the ice would "refresh" her? So she ate a little, played with it a
little, and heard, nolens-volens, a good deal of talk.
"Why, here is Mr. Kindred!" said one of his Christmas friends. "All on
tiptoe for shoulder-straps."
"Mr. Kindred has small occasion to stand on 'tiptoe' for anything,"
said Miss Lane. "But what have you done with your beautiful class ring?
Not lost it?"
"Hardly, since I know where it is. Lost things are said to keep cool
company in the moon."
"What is keeping company with your ring?" said Miss Saucy. "Your heart,
of course?"
"Of course."
"Will she be here for the hop?"
"Since when were hearts feminine? No, I do not think 'she' will," said
Magnus. "Hearts are best at home, hop nights."
The talk went on, the crowd drifted; and little Miss Bee in her corner
held her plate and ate her ice, and tasted nothing. Of course, she
had seen that the ring was missing; but then no girl had boasted its
possession. And men took whims.
What tales dark corners could tell; of hard-pressed fights, of
struggles, of victory! The band played, the throng increased--then
began to thin out. Presently Magnus came and took the plate from the
weary fingers, asking if she would have anything more.
"No, nothing," she assured him with a smile. But something in the smile
and its quiet patience, made him dart over to the table and fetch a
handful of the gayest bonbons and mottoes, and bestow them in Miss
Bee's own hands. A man's blunder, again! And yet perhaps not. Of
course the sweets were not eaten; they were conveyed away and stored
among Miss Bee's few chiefest treasures; but I think in time they
became a comfort, too; shining tokens of what a friend she had had in
one of the foremost men of the Corps. It could not be helped that this
put other men at a discount.
For the ten days that followed no one saw much of Cadet Kindred, in any
of those between-times that he could call his own. West Point outlines
had cast their lovely spell about him; and with every chance he was
down by the river, up among the rocks; climbing the leafy ways; saying
good-bye, and then coming back to say it again.