Whatever page we turn,
However much we learn,
Let there be something left to dream of still.
Longfellow.
It was on a very cold day of the cold spring of 1879 that three ladies
descended at the Liverpool station, escorted by a military-looking
gentleman. He left them standing while he made inquiries, but his
servant had anticipated him. “The steamer has been signalled, my Lord.
It will be in about four o’clock.”
“There will be time to go to the hotel and secure rooms,” said one lady.
“Oh, Reeves can do that. Pray let us come down to the docks and see them
come in.”
No answer till all four were seated in a fly, rattling through the
street, but on the repetition of “Are we going to the docks?” his
Lordship, with a resolute twirl of his long, light moustache, replied,
“No, Sydney. If you think I am going to have you making a scene on deck,
falling on your husband’s breast, and all that sort of thing, you are
much mistaken! I shall lodge you all quietly in the hotel, and you
may wait there, while I go down with Reeves, and receive them like a
rational being.”
“Really, Cecil, that’s too bad. He let me come on board!”
“Do you think I should have brought you here if I had thought you meant
to make yourself ridiculous?”
“It is of no use, Sydney,” said Babie; “there’s no dealing with the
stern and staid pere de famille. I wonder what he would have liked Essie
to do, if he had had to go and leave her for nearly two months when he
had only been married a week?”
“Essie is quite a different thing--I mean she has sense and
self-possession.”
“Mamma, won’t you speak for us?” implored Sydney. “I did behave so well
when he went! Nobody would have guessed we hadn’t been married fifty
years.”
“Still I think Cecil is quite right, and that it may be better for them
all to manage the landing quietly.”
“Without a pack of women,” said Cecil. “Here we are! I hope you will
find a tolerable room for him and no stairs.”
As if poor Mrs. Evelyn were not well enough used to choosing rooms for
invalids!
Twilight had come, the gas had been turned on, and the three anxious
ladies stood in the window gazing vainly at endless vehicles, when the
door opened and they beheld sundry figures entering.
Sydney and Barbara flew, the one to her husband, the other to her
mother, and presently all stood round the fire looking at one another.
Mrs. Evelyn made a gesture to a very slender and somewhat pale figure to
sit down in a large easy chair.
“Thank you, I’m not tired,” he briskly said, standing with a caressing
hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Here’s Cecil can’t quite believe yet
that I have the use of my limbs.”
“Yes,” said John, “no sooner did he come on board, than he made a rush
at the poor sailor who had broken his leg, and was going to be carried
ashore on a hammock. He was on the point of embracing him, red beard
and all, when he was forcibly dragged off by Jock himself whom he nearly
knocked down.”
“Well,” said Cecil, as Sydney fairly danced round him in revengeful
glee, “there was the Monk solicitously lifting him on one side, and
Mother Carey assisting with a smelling-bottle on the other, so what
could I suppose?”
“All for want of us,” said Sydney.
“And think of the cunning of him,” added Babie; “shutting us up here
that he might give way to his feelings undisturbed!”
“I promised to go and speak about that poor fellow at the hospital,”
cried John, with sudden recollection.
“You had better let me,” said Jock.
“You will stay where you are.”
“I consider him my patient.”
“If that’s the way you two fought over your solitary case all the way
home,” said Babie, “I wonder there’s a fragment left of him.”
“It was only three days ago,” said John, “and Jock has been a new man
ever since he picked the poor fellow up on deck, but I’m not going to
let him stir to-night.”
“Let me come with you, Johnny,” entreated Sydney; “it will be so nice!
Oh, no, I don’t mind the cold!”
“Here,” added her brother, “take the poor fellow a sovereign.”
“In compensation for the sudden cooling of your affection,” said
Jock. “Well, if it is an excuse for an excursion with Sydney I’ll
not interfere, but ask him for his sister’s address in London, for I
promised to tell her about him.”
“Oh,” cried Babie, at the word ‘London,’ “then you have heard from Dr.
Medlicott?”
“I did once,” said John, “with some very useful suggestions, but that
was a month ago or more.”
“I meant,” said Babie, “a letter he wrote for the chance of Jock’s
getting it before he sailed. There’s the assistant lectureship
vacant, and the Professor would not like anyone so much. It is his own
appointment, not an election matter, and he meant to keep it open till
he could get an answer from Jock.”
“When was this?” asked Jock, flushing with eagerness.
“The 20th. Dr. Medlicott came down to Fordham for Sunday, to ask if it
was worth while to telegraph, or if I thought you would be well enough.
It is not much of a salary, but it is a step, and Dr. Medlicott knows
they would put you on the staff of the hospital, and then you are open
to anything.”
Jock drew a long breath and looked at his mother. “The very thing I’ve
wished,” he said.
“Exactly. Must he answer at once?”
“The Professor would like a telegram, yes or no, at once.”
“Then, you wedded Monk, will you add to your favours by telegraphing for
me?”
“Yes. Of course it is ‘Yes’. How soon should you have to begin, I
wonder?”
“Oh, I’m quite cheeky enough for that sort of work. If you’ll telegraph,
I’ll write by to-night’s post.”
“I’ll go and do the telegraphing,” said Cecil; “I don’t trust those
two.”
“As if John ever made mistakes,” cried Sydney.
“In fact, I want to send a telegram home.”
“To frighten Essie. She will get a yellow envelope saying you accept a
lectureship, and the Professor urgent inquiries after his baby.”
“Sydney is getting too obstreperous, Monk,” said Cecil. “You had better
carry her off. I shall come back by the time you have written your
letters, Jock.”
“Those two are too happy to do anything but tease one another,” said
Mrs. Evelyn, as the door shut on the three. “My rival grandmother, as
Babie calls her, was really quite glad to get rid of Cecil; she declared
he would excite Esther into a fever.”
“He did alarm Her Serenity herself,” said Babie, laughing. “When she
would go on about grand sponsors and ancestral names, he told her that
he should carry the baby off to Church and have him christened Jock
out of hand, and what a dreadful thing that would be for the peerage. I
believe she thought he meant it.”
“The name is to be John,” said Mrs. Evelyn--“John Marmaduke. He has
secured his godmother”--laying a hand affectionately on Babie--“but I
must not forestall his request to his two earliest and best friends.”
“Dear old fellow!” murmured Jock.
“Everybody is somewhat frantic,” said Barbara.
“Jock’s varieties of classes were almost distracted and besieged the
door, till Susan was fain to stick the last bulletins in the window to
save answering the bell; then no sooner did they hear he was better than
they began getting up a testimonial. Percy Stagg wrote to me, to ask for
his crest for some piece of plate, and I wrote back that I was sure Dr.
Lucas Brownlow would like it best to go in something for the Mission
Church; and if they wanted to give him something for his very own,
suppose they got him a brass plate for the door?”
“Bravo, Infanta; that was an inspiration!”
“So they are to give an alms-dish, and Ali and Elfie give the rest of
the plate. Dr. Medlicott says he never saw anything like the feeling at
the hospital, or does not know what the nurses don’t mean to get up by
way of welcome.”
“My dear Babie, you must let Jock write his letters,” interposed her
mother, who had tears in her eyes and saw him struggling with emotion.
“In spite of your magnificent demonstrations, Jock, you must repair your
charms by lying down.”
She followed him into his room, which opened from the sitting-room, and
he turned to her, speaking from a full heart. “Oh, mother! It seems
all given to me, the old home, the very post I wished for, and all this
kindness, just when I thought I had taken leave of it all.” He sobbed
once or twice for very joy.
“You are sure it suits you?”
“If I only can suit it equally well! Oh, I see what you mean. That is
over now. I suppose the fever burnt it out of me, for it does not hurt
me now to see the dear old Monk beaming on her. I am glad she came, for
I can feel sure of myself now. So there’s nothing at present to come
between me and my Mother Carey. Thanks, mother, I’ll just fire off my
two notes; and establish myself luxuriously before Cecil comes back!
I say, this is the best inn’s best room. Poor Mrs. Evelyn must have
thought herself providing for Fordham. Oh yes, I shall gladly lie down
when these notes are done, but this is not a chance to be neglected.
Now, Deo gratias, it will be my own fault if Magnum Bonum is not
worked out to the utmost; yes, much better than if we had never gone
to America. Even Bobus owns that all things _have_ worked together for
good!”
His mother, with another look at the face, so joyous though still so
wasted and white, went back to the other room, with an equally happy
though scarcely less worn countenance.
“I hope he is resting,” said Mrs. Evelyn. “Are you quite satisfied about
him?”
“Fully. He may not be strong for a year or two, and must be careful
not to overtask himself, but John made him see one of the greatest
physicians in New York, to whom Dr. Medlicott had sent letters of
introduction--as if they were needed, he said, after Jock’s work at
Abville. He said, as John did, there was no lasting damage to the heart,
and that the attack was the consequence of having been brought so low;
but he will be as strong and healthy as ever, if he will only be careful
as to exertion for a year or so. This appointment is the very thing to
save him. I know his friends will look after him and keep him from doing
too much. Dr. ---- was quite grieved that he had no notion how ill Jock
had been, or he would have come to Ashton. Any of the faculty would,
he said, for one of the ‘true chivalry of 1878.’ And he was so excited
about the Magnum Bonum.”
“Do you think you and he can bear to crown our great thanksgiving
feast?”
“My dear, my heart is all one thanksgiving!”
“Cecil’s rejoicing is quite as much for Jock’s sake as over his boy. He
told me how they had been pledged as brothers in arms, and traces all
that is best in himself to those days at Engelberg.”
“Yes, that night on the mountain was the great starting-point, thanks to
dear little Armine.”
“I am writing to him and to Allen,” said Barbara from a corner.
“My love a thousand times, and we will meet at home!”
“Then our joy will not feel incongruous to you?” said Mrs. Evelyn.
“No, I am too thankful for what I know of my poor Janet. She is mine now
as she never was since she was a baby in my arms. I scarcely grieve, for
happiness was over for her, and hers was a noble death. They have placed
her name in the memorial tablet in Abville Church, to those who laid
down their lives for their brethren there. I begged it might be, ‘Janet
Hermann, daughter of Joseph Brownlow’--for I thank God she died worthy
of her father. In all ways I can say of this journey, my children were
dead and are alive again, were lost and are found.”
“Ah! I was sure it must be so, if such a girl as Miss Ashton could
accept Robert.”
“I am happier about him than I ever thought to be. I do not say that his
faith is like John’s or Armine’s, but he is striving back through the
mists, and wishing to believe, rather than being proud of disbelieving,
and Primrose knows what she is doing, and is aiding him with all her
power.”
“As our Esther never could have done,” said Mrs. Evelyn, “except by her
gentle innocence.”
“No. She could only have been to him a pretty white idol of his own
setting up,” said Babie.
“Now,” added her mother, “Primrose is fairly on equal grounds as to
force and intellect. She has been all over Europe, read and thought
much, and can discuss deep matters, while the depth of her religious
principle impresses him. They fought themselves into love, and then she
was sorry for him, and so touched by his wretchedness and longing to
take hold of the comfort his reason could not accept. I wish you could
have seen her. This photograph shows you her fine head; but not the
beautiful clear complexion, and the sweetness of those dark grey eyes!”
“I liked her letter,” said Babie, “and I am glad she was such a daughter
to you, mother. Allen says he is thankful she is not a Japanese with
black teeth.”
“He wrote very nicely to her, and so did Elfie,” said her mother. “And
Armine wrote a charming little note, which pleased Primrose best of
all.”
“Poor Armine has felt all most deeply,” said Babie. “Do you remember
when he thought it his mission to die and do good to Bobus? Well, he
was sure that, though, as he said, his own life then was too shallow and
unreal for his death to have done any good, Jock was meant to produce
the effect.”
“And he has--”
“Yes, but by life, not death! Armie could hardly believe it. You know he
was with us at Christmas; and when he found that Bobus was to be led
not by sorrow, but by this Primrose path, it was quite funny to see how
surprised he was.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Evelyn, “he went about moralising on the various
remedies that are applied to the needs of human nature.”
“It made into a poem at last, such a pretty one,” said Babie. “And he
says he will be wiser all his life for finding things turn out so unlike
all his expectations.”
“I have a strange feeling of peace about all my children,” said
Caroline. “I do feel as if my dream had come true, and life, true life,
had wakened them all.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Evelyn, “I think they all, in their degree, may be said
to have learnt or be learning the way to true Magnum Bonum.”
“And oh! how precious it has been to me,” said the mother. “How the
guarding of that secret aided me through the worst of times!”
THE END.