GOING HOME
"Jack," called Betty, a few days afterwards, "come in a minute. I
want to speak to you."
Jack passed in rapid review his conduct of the last few days, and
decided that there was nothing Aunt Betty could want to lecture him
about, and yet the brevity of the summons sounded like the preface to
a lecture. He came up the paddock rather reluctantly.
"Well," he said, joining her in the verandah, but not sitting down.
"Don't keep me long, there's a dear. I'm making an aeroplane, and
it's frightfully exciting."
"But I think the news I have for you will be frightfully exciting
too," she said smiling at him.
Jack's eyes shone like stars. "Is it that father's coming?"
Betty's heart smote her that she had raised the boy's hope so high
only to dash it again.
"Not quite so exciting as that, but something that will get you more
ready to go to England. Father wants you to go to school in
Melbourne, a boys' school that Uncle Tom knows about, and thinks a
good one. Father is very anxious that you should be working hard now
so that you will be able to take your place with other boys of your
age when you go home."
Jack seized his cap from his head and sent it spinning into the air
with a whoop of triumph.
"I should say it just was exciting! Why, Aunt Betty, it's glorious."
His delight was so natural, that Betty would not dim it by any
expression of personal regret. Besides, although she did not tell
Jack this, his father's decision was the result of her own advice.
She did not consider that the experiment of sending him to the State
school had answered. He was too well known to every boy in the
place, and was contracting acquaintances she did not care for him to
make, and imitating follies that were by no means harmless, and she
believed a complete change of companionship would be better for him
and for his progress in learning. She knew that Captain Stephens was
making not only a name but some money by his inventive skill and
mastership of aircraft, and that it was his full intention to give
Jack a good education, so she had written some months back suggesting
the change of school and saying that she believed her influence over
Jack stood a better chance of making itself felt when he was away
from her and constantly in need of her than now, when more than half
his time was spent out of her sight, and when her presence at home
was so completely a matter of course that he scarcely realised its
value. And from Jack's father had come an entirely reassuring
answer. No mother could have his little son's interests more
entirely at heart than Betty, and he was quite willing to accept her
judgment, and that of the man who had acted the part of a kind and
wise elder brother to Jack, and to send him to the school Tom Chance
recommended.
"And you need not worry about ways and means. Let Jack have a proper
school outfit. You will know what he needs better than I. It was
certainly my wish at first that he should remain with you at all
hazards until I could come and fetch him, but the time has been
longer than I at first expected, and I quite see the force of your
argument that he shall be able to take his proper standing with other
boys of his age on his return, and possibly the education of a State
school would hardly prepare him for this. Is it asking too much that
Tom Chance will keep an eye to him as regards religious matters? A
boy's first plunge into school life is an important era in his life.
I'm not sure that Mr. Chance is still in the colony, but if you are
in touch with him tell him what I feel about it."
All this was running through Betty's mind as she listened to Jack's
outpouring of delight.
"And when am I going, Aunt Betty?"
"Next term if you can be taken in. I've already written to the
head-master about you, for this has been in our heads for some time,
although I could not mention it to you until I knew father's
decision. Now I see no reason why you should not travel back to
Melbourne under Uncle Tom's care."
Jack fairly danced with joy.
"I'm off, Aunt Betty; I'm off to find Uncle Tom, and to tell Eva.
She'll mind rather much, I fancy, but I'll tell her she can write to
me if she likes, and I'll answer as I get time," and away he flew,
leaving Betty half amused and half heart-sore.
"A budding lord of creation," she said to Tom later in the day when
he came to talk matters over with her.
"Women and girls find their right place in looking after him."
The words were playful, but there was an under-lying sadness in them.
"It's partly the fault of the women and the girls who spoil boys and
men, isn't it? But there's scarcely one amongst us but owns in his
secret heart that all that is noble in him he owes to the influence
of some good woman--a mother, a sister, or an aunt--and Jack, come to
man's estate, will look back and call Aunt Betty's name blessed."
Tears stood in Betty's eyes, but her smile was sweet and tender.
"If that prophecy comes true, I shall consider that life has been
worth living," she said.
"Let us hope that there may be other causes by that time which will
make your life very much worth living; others who will need you even
more than little Jack, a husband, perhaps, and--children of your own."
The colour mounted to Betty's face flooding it from brow to chin,
then faded leaving her deadly pale. Tom was standing over her
looking down on her with a smile that told her more clearly than any
words that he loved her, that the husband his imagination pictured
was himself.
"Betty," he said, using her Christian name for the first time, "I did
not mean to speak yet. I meant to wait until I am recalled to
England and have a likelihood of a home to offer you, but your regret
at losing your Jack led me on. Should I do, can you think of me as
the husband? Betty, my dear, my whole heart cries out to you, I love
you so. I don't know when it began, but I almost think it was the
first day we ever met, and you caught me at cricket. It will be the
biggest blow of my life if you catch me out now. Betty, my sweet
one, what answer will you give me? My whole happiness hangs on it.
Is it yes, or no?"
Betty looked into his face with a tremulous smile, put out her hands
to him, and the next moment was clasped in his arms.
"My darling," he said, as he reverently kissed her, "you shall never
have cause to regret your decision."
In the first few moments of their tumultuous happiness neither wished
to speak; it was enough for Betty to feel Tom's arm round her, and to
know that she was his for evermore, his helpmeet, sharing his home
and work, the one man in the world she had ever loved, for a pretty
helpful girl like Betty had had other men who wished to marry her,
but not one of them had even set her pulses beating, much less
suggested himself as her husband, but now she had entered her
kingdom! Was ever girl quite as happy as she was at this moment?
Later on they talked of their future. Tom had mapped out work that
would take him about two years to carry through, and then he meant to
go home.
"And you will come with me, Betty darling, come with me as my wife,"
he said joyously. "I wonder if you realise what you are doing in
marrying me. It's rather like catching a lark and shutting it up in
a close dark cage, for my work will lie in some slum parish probably,
where sorrow and sin will close you in on every side, and after your
free country-life out here, you will feel choked by it often and
often."
"I daresay I shall, but--I shall have you," said Betty, simply.
"Shall we go and tell mother?"
Mr. and Mrs. Treherne's consent was a foregone conclusion, and
separation from their only daughter being as yet a thing in the
distance, left them free now to rejoice in her happiness. Ted's
congratulations when he came in from the farm were rather less hearty.
"It's rather a mean trick to play," he said. "You had all England to
choose from, and you come out here and want to carry off our Betty,
and there's not a girl who can hold a candle to her in all the
colony, is there, mother?"
"Not one," said Mrs. Treherne, giving the hand she held a squeeze.
"And that's the very reason why I want to take her home when the time
comes," said Tom with a happy laugh. "I want them to see the kind of
girl the colony can produce. I don't underrate her, Ted."
"I won't stay and be discussed as if I wasn't here," said Betty,
blushing a little. "Ought not we to go and see Clarissa, Tom?" so
they walked off together down the paddock, hand-in-hand.
"And that's how they'll walk off one day for good and all," said Ted,
watching them moodily from the verandah. "Hang it all, mother. I
wonder you can take it so quietly. Why can't she marry some man in
the colony, and stay in the land she belongs to? They will only look
down upon her in England," but that fired Mrs. Treherne into speech.
"Look down on her! Look down on my Betty! Isn't it because I know
that to Tom she is the one woman in all the world that I give my
consent to his carrying her away? But don't rub it in, Ted," and her
tone was a little weary. "She's not going yet for a year or two, and
every mother has to face the fact that the young ones she has reared
and loved will fly off sometime and make nests of their own. It's
God's law, and there is no escaping it."
Ted bent and brushed his bronzed cheek against hers.
"No fear, mother. There's one who will stick by the old birds, and
keep their nest warm and dry for them," he said gruffly, and stirred
by an unusual emotion he strolled off to the farm and solaced himself
with a pipe.
Meanwhile no explanations were necessary with Clarissa. She just
glanced at the smiling faces, saw the clasped hands, and burst into a
laugh.
"So it's settled at last," she said, her own hands closing over their
clasped ones, "but the wonder to me is why you have been so long
about it, for you've known your own minds long enough. Betty, my
dear, you're a lucky woman."
"As if I didn't know it," protested Betty, as Clarissa kissed her.
"But I remember your telling me almost the first night I came that
you should like a sister just like Betty," Tom grumbled.
"So I did, so I do, but all the same I call her a lucky sister in
marrying you," and with that assertion Betty was well content.
"Shall you tell the children?" Clarissa asked later.
"Oh yes," Betty said. "I never see the use of making mysteries out
of things that are clear and true as daylight, and to Jack it will
make no difference. He claimed Tom as his uncle long ago. Where are
they, Clarissa? Jack rushed off here in great excitement to tell the
news of his going to school, and I have not seen him since."
"They are in the garden, I think. Eva is full of lamentation that
she was not born a boy, so that she might go to school with Jack, but
he comforts her by reminding her that she would be in a lower form,
and would see little of him!"
"He's a little beyond himself; he'll come back to his bearings
directly," Tom said. "It's the first event of importance that has
come to him. Come, Betty; we will find them."
They sat side by side in the swing, their heads close together deep
in conversation, but at sight of Aunt Betty and Tom, Jack sprang to
the ground and came rushing towards them.
"Uncle Tom, has Aunt Betty told you? Do you know I'm going to
school?"
"Yes, I know that and something else which makes me very glad,
happier than I've ever been in all my life."
"What?" asked Jack and Eva in chorus.
"That some day, when I go home, Aunt Betty will marry me, and go home
with me as my wife. That's a big bit of news, isn't it, Jack?"
Eva laughed and clapped her hands, but Jack stood looking from Tom to
Aunt Betty, with a slight air of bewilderment.
"Then she'll stay with you for ever and ever?" he said.
"I hope so, Jack," said Tom, with a little laugh.
"And you'll be my real uncle, not a pretence one?"
"Yes," said Tom again.
"Then I'm jolly glad, and oh, Aunt Betty," fresh light dawning on
him, "it will mean that I'll have you always too the same as I do
now. I think I'm almost as glad as Uncle Tom," and forgetful of his
boyish dignity his arms closed round her neck in a rapturous hug, and
Betty, as she held him fast, felt no congratulation on her engagement
was quite so dear and sweet as his.
* * * * *
The days would have dragged heavily after Jack's departure but for
the new great happiness which filled Betty's heart to overflowing.
Tom had taken Jack to school and installed him there, a very good
school Tom told her, with a wholesome religious basis, where "Jack
will get such teaching as you and his father would wish him to have,"
Tom wrote, and Betty was content in this, as in all things, to rely
upon Tom's judgment.
Months passed by, Jack came for his first holidays full of his
school-mates, and, what pleased Betty more, very full of his work.
He was developing rather an extraordinary turn for mathematics and
mechanics, and spent most of his recreation time in the workshop
attached to his school, intent upon models of various sorts, and
Betty rejoiced and sympathised with his hobby. It was all helping to
get him ready for his future work.
Meanwhile, as the months ran into years, Betty went on quite quietly
and contentedly with her own work--her preparations for her marriage
which she now knew not to be far distant. Had not Tom said he would
come to fetch her in about two years? The dainty garments she
fashioned were finished one by one and laid by in a box which she
named her glory box.
"For it is a glory, mother, to be loved by a man like Tom," she said.
"Then my gift shall be the household linen," said Mrs. Treherne, and
side by side with the glory box there stood a large chest which
received Mrs. Treherne's contributions as they were folded and marked
in readiness for Betty's marriage.
And true to his promise when the two years were nearly completed Tom
wrote a letter, almost incoherent in its happiness, to tell her he
was coming to claim his own.
"I shall bring Jack along with me, for, as you know, his holidays
will be due, and the dear boy is looking forward with sober happiness
to his Confirmation day. I always promised to be present at it if I
were still in the Colony, and the Bishop, I hear, holds one at
Wallaroo about the 21st of December. Jack's preparation has been a
careful one, and by his letters to me I think his mind is fully made
up to continue Christ's faithful soldier and servant unto his life's
end. He had his choice of being confirmed in the cathedral at
Melbourne, when some other lads from his school received the laying
on of hands, but he wrote that he would rather wait for the
Confirmation in his own little church at home, 'when you and Aunt
Betty will be there with me.' I thought it sweet of the boy, but,
indeed, my Betty, I think Jack will turn into a boy you will have
every cause to be proud of."
And the post which brought that letter brought another which was
almost as important. Jack's father was coming to take his boy home;
indeed, within a week of the letter's departure he would be on his
way. Pressure of business would make his stay in the colony a short
one, "but I always promised Jack to come and fetch him, and I will
keep my word."
He gave the name of the liner in which his passage was taken, and the
date when she was due at Melbourne.
"But mother--it's too delightful," said Betty, looking up from the
letter. "Jack's father is coming and is due in Melbourne on the 18th
or 19th of December. By good luck he should be here on Jack's
Confirmation day. Won't it be beautiful if he is?"
And through the coming weeks Betty lived on in happy expectation,
wondering what she had done to deserve such happiness. Jack was
coming, and Jack's father, and, what was greater still, her own Tom,
from whom, God willing, she would never again be separated.
Clarissa had clamoured to make her her wedding gown, but Betty
asserted she did not mean to have one.
"Tom and I are of one mind," she said. "We think the greatest and
holiest day of our lives shall not be desecrated by flutter and fuss.
I'll be married in a coat and skirt, a white one if you prefer it,
and we mean to have no fuss of any kind, and we want only those
present who love us, and will say their prayers for us. We have not
yet settled the day, but it will be pretty soon after he comes, for
he has marching orders to return to England. He means to take our
passages for about the end of the year. Don't you wish you were
coming too?"
"No, I don't," said Clarissa, vehemently. "I love this place and its
kind, warm-hearted people, and I love your father and mother, and
mean to make up your loss to them as far as I can. I know it will be
very imperfectly accomplished, but just think of the desolation which
will be theirs when you've left them for good, gone out of their
reach, Betty."
Tears stood in Betty's eyes. "Yes, I know, and often I wonder at
myself for doing it, and yet--it's not that I love them less than I
ever did, that I don't know what I'm leaving behind me, but if Tom
were going to the uttermost parts of the earth I feel my call to go
with him. I love him better than life itself, Clarissa. Don't you
know what I mean?"
Clarissa was very white. "Yes, I loved George like that, but, unlike
you, I married without the sanction of my father, and I never felt
that God's blessing followed me as it will follow you, my Betty,
going before and after like the pillar of cloud that guided the
Israelites. It's because I love George so dearly that I don't want
to go home. I want to live and die in the country where we spent our
short married life together."
On the 16th of December Betty stood in her simple white gown waiting
at the corner of the green lane for the evening coach that was to
bring Tom and Jack from the station, and as she heard the rattle of
the wheels and the sound of the galloping horses breasting the hill,
her own heart beat in joyful sympathy, for her happiness was close at
hand. And almost before the coach stood still, Tom and Jack had
jumped from their seats on the top, and were taking her eagerly
between them up the green lane towards the farm.
"But, Jack, you grow by feet, not by inches," said Betty, putting him
a little away from her that she might see him more distinctly.
"Father will feel quite shy of you."
"More than I'll be of him, then. Do you see he's won a medal for his
last invention, Aunt Betty? Isn't he glorious? The boys at school
chaff me because they say I'm always boasting about father, and I
tell them they would boast too if they had a father like him to boast
about. Why, there's Eva, waiting at the gate. I'll just run on and
have a word with her."
Then Tom and Betty were left alone, and took a long look into each
other's eyes.
"Well, darling! Are you ready for me?"
"Quite ready. Have I not said so often enough."
"And you will marry me any day I like?"
"Yes, mother knows we both wish it to be as quiet as possible, to
have no splash breakfast, not even a wedding cake."
"Then I've settled it," said Tom joyously. "I saw the Bishop at
Launceston and he's kind enough to express a wish to perform the
Service. The Confirmation is to be quite early in the morning of the
twenty-first and if you could fix the wedding to take place
immediately after it, it would be delightful. It's short notice, but
will it suit you, my darling? The time has dragged just lately Your
face, your dear face, has come between me and my work. We've been
pretty patient, I think. Will your mother object?"
"The time will suit me, and I don't think mother will object," said
Betty, slipping her hand into his. "She is prepared for us to sail
about the end of the year. She knows the parting is quite close;
sometimes I think the strain tells on her. It will be better for her
when it's over. We needn't tell anyone, Tom. We'll be married and
slip away somewhere."
"To Melbourne," said Tom, "or we'll keep our Christmas at Launceston
and your luggage can follow us there."
"And it's a good time in a way for us to be going, for Jack's father
will be here and take away the bitterness of the parting. He will be
following us soon to England."
"Betty, are you afraid, afraid to trust yourself to me all that long
distance from home? It's a tremendous trust you give me."
Betty turned her face, glorified by love, to his.
"Afraid! with _you_, Tom!" and Tom was satisfied.