IN THE PINE WOOD
Luke Sparrow strode through the pine woods, taking a short cut from the
churchyard back to the inn.
His train for the south, left in an hour.
Hurrying footsteps came behind him. At first he took them for an echo of
his own; then realised that he was being followed, and walked the
faster. He had no wish to be accosted.
“Sir Nigel! Sir Nigel!”
He stopped and turned sharply.
Old Thomas, breathless, in deepest black, was hastening down the stony
path.
“Your pardon, Sir Nigel. May I speak with you?”
“What is it, old friend?”
“Sir Nigel, you are going? Don’t leave us behind, Mary and me. Now we
have lost our dear lady, we cannot stay here. Already there are changes.
We shall not be wanted. We know too much about our lady’s ways and
wishes. Pipes in the Oak Room she never did allow, nor whisky and soda
in the morning. Her ladyship’s last word to me was: ‘If possible, go
with Sir Nigel, Thomas, you and Mary. You know his ways, and I would
like to feel Mary was there to do his mending and airing, and see that
he has properly cooked meals.’ Our dear lady has left an annuity of two
hundred a year between us, and we have our savings, and no encumbrances,
thank God. It isn’t a question of wages; it’s a question of home, and
the Fam’ly—boy and man, Sir Nigel, for over fifty years.”
He paused for breath and a pocket-handkerchief.
“Your pardon, Sir Nigel.” He wiped the tears from his furrowed cheeks.
“Boy and man, Sir Nigel, for half a century. I ran beside your pony,
sir, as you may remember.”
“I don’t remember, Thomas; but _She_ did; and I have no doubt you do.”
He considered.
Was it really Her wish?
He thought of the thousand pounds in bank notes in the despatch-box at
the inn.
“Of course you shall come, old friend; and Mary with you. But I have no
home, as yet. We must make one together. I am going south by the
express. Could you be happy in London? I will find a cosy flat. As soon
as I have found it, I will send for you and Mary.”
The old man blew his nose.
“Beg pardon, Sir Nigel.” His relief was pathetic. “We felt if we lost
you again, we lost all. It isn’t a matter of money. It’s service, and
our lady’s wishes, and love of you, Sir Nigel. Boy and man——”
“Right. Tell Mary the thing’s settled. I’m off in an hour, Thomas. I
don’t want any awkward questions.”
“True, Sir Nigel. The doctor wanted to know why you had left the house
before the new master and mistress arrived. He had counted on you to
give them full particulars of our lady’s last hours. He has been
hindered from coming over until to-day, by a very serious case. As I say
to Mary, there are always dispensations! But he has gone down to the
house now. And you were noticed at the grave. There will be talk in
every home by nightfall. Douglas saw you, and Fergusson and old Nannie
Steer. You remember them, Sir Nigel?”
No. The sub-conscious well was rapidly growing deeper, its memories more
elusive. Douglas, Fergusson, old Nannie Steer, conveyed nothing to him.
Only his Treasure in the heavens was inalienably his own. But he began
to realise how largely his sub-consciousness had drawn from hers. With
her departure from this earthly setting, all its memories were fading
into dream-like vagueness.
“To see you standing at the grave, Sir Nigel, looking down at _that_
coffin! It was like the Judgment Day. It made my blood run cold; and
Mary well-nigh swooned.”
“It need not have, Thomas; any more than when I stood looking down into
that drawer when you shewed me my old suits, folded and laid away by
careful hands.”
He stood, looking upwards. A shaft of sunlight, piercing through the
pines, fell on his face.
“Neither my wife nor I are in that grave. There is no death, old friend.
That which we call death is fuller life—life more abundant.”
“Speaking of clothes, Sir Nigel, and such like, her ladyship gave me
orders to pack everything in the dressing-room in two trunks and keep
them in our quarters until I knew where to send them. Her ladyship
wished you to have the things she had so treasured. None ever went into
that room, save her ladyship and myself; or Mary, if our lady was away.
So no questions will be asked when they find it bare. Her ladyship also
gave me a list of furniture she has left to me and Mary, meaning it for
you; her couch in the Oak Room, your pipe-rack, her writing-table, her
easy chair, and a few other things. She dictated the paper and signed it
that morning while the doctor was with her; but she told me, by word of
mouth, they were left to us, for you.”
So this was her way of making sure that he should have a home, filled
with sweet memories of her. Oh, Miriam, belovèd! Now it was for him to
find that home, for himself and these two faithful souls.
“Very well, Thomas. They can come with you and Mary when the home is
ready. I will try for a jolly little house, not a flat. It will be more
home-like. Whatever she wished, or said, or did, is right. Only be
careful no questions are asked. You know what people would say if they
knew of the happenings of this past week? They would say that she, and
you, and I, were mad.”
The old man smiled. “It don’t matter what folk say, Sir Nigel. All that
really matters, is what our own hearts know; and that her ladyship died
happy.”
As Luke Sparrow walked on alone, at a rapid pace, through the pine
woods, he repeated those words to himself. “All that really matters is
what our own hearts know.” Aye, how true! That, and one thing more.
“Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts.”