I awoke, after my short sleep, in the gray dawn, to find the world
astir already, the great sea before my window spreading far away, calm
and glistening as a lake, and the sun shining cheerily in the pale blue
of the morning sky. The people without, in their holiday attire, seemed
happy and hopeful; but for me, alas! there was not much of either hope
or happiness. I began to think very seriously of the future. Yes; I
must leave East Craig, and try in Edinburgh or Glasgow, or, who knew,
even in London! to earn a livelihood for Lilian and myself. I could
surely sew, or work, for the bread we both needed. My bonny Lilian
unconsciously added to my sorrows on that bright, sad morning of the
new year, by the way she lisped her little prayer for 'dear father;'
but I managed, for her sake, to be strong and brave again, and came
down-stairs with a smiling face.
'I'm wishin' ye a happy new year, ma'am!' blurted out Jeanie, the
lassie from a cottage hard by, who performed the rougher household
duties of our modest household for such wages as content a girl of
thirteen. Oh, but it was hard, to preserve a steady demeanour, and
acknowledge Jeanie's well-meant greeting, and sit down to breakfast
with little Lilian in her black frock beside me, and---- A knocking at
the door, quick and strong. The heavy tread too of a man's impatient
foot upon the shingly path that led up from the wicket of the narrow
garden. My visitors, I need not say, were few, and I knew none who
were likely to come thus early. 'I can see no one now!' I cried
apprehensively to Jeanie, as that active lass bustled forward to answer
the peremptory summons.
'Not even me!' answered a voice, the sound of which made me tremble
and grow white, as they told me later, to my very lips, while the door
burst open, and with dilated eyes I gazed as on a vision. Yes; the
tall, bronzed, bearded man who rushed into the room and caught me to
his heart, and kissed me and the bairnie again and again, was Archie,
my Archie, my dear goodman that I had believed to be dead and cold, far
off beneath the measureless waters of the Pacific.
'And you thought me dead, did you?' said Archie, when, feeling safe in
his strong arms, I had sobbed out some portion of my short and simple
story. 'No wonder, for the _Good Intent_ was cast away, but luckily
without loss of life, on the Van Ruyter Islands, so called from some
early Dutch navigator; and being out of the track of ordinary ships,
we wrecked folks had trouble enough to keep alive on shell-fish and
sea-fowls' eggs, until we were rescued by an American whaler. Many's
the night, Alice, love, that as the wind moaned around the wave-worn
rock, I have knelt and prayed, with the bright stars of the Southern
Cross shining overhead, that God's mercy would lead me back to my
wife and child; and here at last I am!--We are rich now,' said Archie
later, when we could talk more calmly, and the first transport of my
half-incredulous joy was spent; 'for poor Uncle Scott, who is dead,
left me heir of all he had, land, cattle, and money; but the land is
the best of it; and if you do not fear to follow me so far, Alice, we
will settle in Australia.'
'Gladly and thankfully,' I answered him; and had Australia been a land
of cold and barrenness, instead of one of warmth and plenty, I would
have followed him cheerfully to the very ends of the earth. As it is,
we are all happy and healthy in Queensland, and it is there that I
write these lines; and Lilian and I, I need scarcely say, wear black no
more, and can look back smilingly to the day, now long ago, when all
our joy and happiness came to us with the glad New Year.
SONG OF THE CARILLONEUR.
Ring out, my bells, in accents clear;
Ring soft and sweet,
And take a message true and dear
To hearts that beat.
Soothe the soul with sorrow aching;
Cheer the life when all's forsaking;
Sing of joy to hearts now breaking;
Ring on, my bells!
Ring out, my bells, across the plain;
Ring wild and free,
And wake the echoes back again
To melody.
O'er the mountains waft my dreaming,
Where the sunset glory's streaming,
Where the purple vines are gleaming;
Ring out, my bells!
Ring out, my bells; ring full and strong.
My soul, to-day,
Upon inspiring notes of song
Would float away.
From the gray old minster sending
Tones that, in such concord blending,
Tell of harmonies unending;
Ring out, my bells!
Ring out upon the listening air
Your silver spell;
Ring out the music quaint and rare
I love so well:
Hope to every faint one bringing,
Peace on earth for ever ringing,
And of Love eternal singing;
Ring on, my bells!
H. K. W.
* * * * *
Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON,
and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.