MAJOR CARUTH was mistaken in supposing that his friend Captain Tyson
had no visit to pay before joining him at Fernsclough, and the latter
did not arrive until a day later than the one originally fixed when
they parted.
"I was obliged to run over to my sister's, and have a look at her and
her belongings, though I did not stay longer than I could help. They
will see enough of me when I settle down, as our homes will be near
together," said the captain, in explanation of his tardy arrival.
Mrs. Caruth was charmed with her son's friend, and, as the days passed,
felt how pleasant it would be if Alec could induce him to extend his
visit until after the New Year.
"I wish I could stay; many thanks to you for asking me," he replied;
"but Kate, my sister, made me promise to go back for the Christmas
doings at her house. If only—"
Here Captain Tyson paused, and fell into a species of brown study, the
purport of which he did not reveal. This was at breakfast, and an hour
later he said to his friend—
"Caruth, I wish you would go with me to my sister's for a single night.
I have a special reason for asking this, and I think Mrs. Caruth will
spare you to me for so long."
"Do you mean to go to-day?" asked the major.
"Well, yes; it only wants a week to Christmas, and things must be
arranged soon, you understand."
Major Caruth did not understand, but was quite willing to take
everything for granted and Captain Tyson, having announced that no one
ever came at a wrong time whom he invited to Kate's house, and that he
would in any case "wire" from the station, so that she might not be
taken by surprise, went off with his friend by the 2.30 train.
It was only after they were gone past recall that Mrs. Caruth
remembered she was quite ignorant as to her son's destination. Captain
Tyson had neither mentioned his sister's surname nor the place of her
abode; but she said to herself, "It is only for a night; Alec will be
home to-morrow." And made herself contented in the meanwhile.
It was growing dusk as Major Caruth and his friend alighted at the door
of a beautiful country house. It stood hospitably open, having been
flung wide at the sound of approaching wheels. There was a rosy glow
from within, which came from a blazing fire in the wide hall, where
space, warmth, and comfort were well combined. A tall, graceful woman
stood near the doorway, extending welcoming hands to the newly arrived
guests.
"Kate," said Captain Tyson, "this is my good friend and wise mentor,
Major Caruth, of whom you have heard before. Caruth, this is my sister
Kate, otherwise Mrs. Ross; and here come the children to welcome Uncle
Jack."
Turning aside from the elders after this introduction, Captain Tyson
seized the smaller girl of the two and lifted her for a kiss, then
exchanged her for the other, whom he mounted on his shoulder amid a
burst of merry laughter from the pair of little people. There was
another female figure visible, but in shadow, and with her head turned
from the door, as the gentlemen entered.
"I am sorry my husband will not be in yet," said Mrs. Ross. "He made an
appointment before my brother's telegram came, and was obliged to keep
it; but he will be here in good time for dinner. I have, however, a
friend and guest, whom you, I think, will be glad to see."
Mrs. Ross advanced, the figure turned towards her and her companion,
and Major Caruth clasped the extended hand of Joyce Mirlees.
"Joyce!" he exclaimed. "Can it be you? This is indeed an unexpected
pleasure. Did Tyson know?"
Joyce's face was radiant, as she looked with frank gladness at her old
friend, who still retained her hand in his.
"Yes, it is I, Alec," she said; "and Captain Tyson planned this
surprise for you. When he was here lately, he talked of you and of his
intended visit to Fernsclough. Then, naturally, it came out that his
friend Major Caruth, and the friend of my whole life, were one and
the same person. He had a great deal to say about you, and I—you may
imagine how glad I was to tell him that for years you had been my dear
father's pupil and my own true friend always."
Joyce looked bravely up as she spoke. Her manner was frank and
unrestrained, like that of a sister meeting a dear brother after years
of absence.
Perhaps Major Caruth would have liked to see more of self-consciousness
about the girl, and signs of still deeper feeling.
Outwardly, the strong man and brave soldier showed more emotion than
Joyce did, for he kept her hand in his, and his voice trembled as he
said—
"I little guessed what was before me when I left home to-day, or how
much I should owe to my friend Tyson before the close of it."
"I dragged him off here at a moment's notice, Miss Mirlees," said
Captain Tyson, pausing from a frantic race round the hall, in which he
was already indulging with his small nieces. "You and my sister must
explain to him one special object I had in bringing him here."
Major Caruth heard the explanation in due time, but not at that moment,
for Mrs. Ross, on hospitable thoughts intent, was offering tea; and
afterwards the gentlemen went to their rooms to dress for dinner.
Major Caruth remembered Mrs. Ross's allusion to Joyce as her "friend
and guest."
"The holidays have begun," he thought, "and the governess is gone for
awhile. The friend remains. How few women would have drawn such a
distinction as Mrs. Ross did by the use of those words!"
Before bedtime, Major Caruth understood his friend's object in bringing
him to Springfield Park in such haste. Mrs. Ross explained it on his
behalf.
"My brother has told me of your kind wish that he should spend
Christmas at Fernsclough. Mrs. Caruth had previously invited Joyce,
who was pledged to remain here. Yet I hope and believe we should all
be happier if under one roof than we could be if divided. My brother
thinks that he and you might persuade Mrs. Caruth to come to us; but
if you think it necessary, I will go to Fernsclough and unite my
solicitations to yours—that is always supposing you are willing to join
our Christmas gathering here."
Major Caruth looked for one instant inquiringly at Joyce. Her answering
glance was eloquent enough to satisfy him, and he at once said to Mrs.
Ross, "It will give me the greatest possible pleasure, and I do not
think you will need to travel to Fernsclough to persuade my mother also
to accept your kind invitation."
So Major Caruth returned home on the following day, carrying a pleasant
surprise to his mother. He also conveyed a considerable addition to his
luggage in the shape of Joyce's Christmas gifts for Welton friends.
One packet she retained.
"This is for Mrs. Caruth; I shall put it on the Christmas-tree for her,
instead of sending it now."
"And mine, Joyce. Where is it? I see nothing for me."
"People are not supposed to ask beforehand, or to be told what they
may expect when the tree is lighted," she answered, with a laugh and a
blush.
"I know what I expect, and I shall certainly ask for it," he said; "but
I will not be more selfish than others. I will wait till Christmas Day
for my present, Joyce. Good-bye for so long, dear Joyce."
"We shall lose Miss Mirlees," said Mr. Ross, oracularly. "Katie, Katie,
who would have dreamed that you would develop a taste for match-making."
This to his wife.
"Nor have I, dear. If a match should come about, such as you suggest,
it was virtually made before you and I ever heard the names of Alec
Caruth and Joyce Mirlees."
Of course, Mrs. Caruth accepted the invitation to Springfield Park, and
equally of course the gathering there was a most delightful one.
If Alec Caruth did not find a present from his former child-friend
beneath the spreading boughs of the lighted Christmas-tree, he was
not wholly discontented. Whilst others were admiring their gifts, he
managed to whisper a demand for one which was more precious in his eyes
than all beside.
"You know what I want, dear Joyce," he pleaded. "Not a gift, only a
fair exchange. One true heart in return for another. You have mine. You
have had it for years, and you—" He looked inquiringly.
"I am afraid I have none to give you in return," she whispered.
A great fear filled his heart for a moment, but once more Alec Caruth
looked at Joyce's blushing face and read the true answer to his
petition.
"I believe you say this because, dear Joyce, it was mine already. Tell
me, darling, am I right?"
But Joyce did not speak. Nevertheless, Alec was content, and a little
later, he told his mother that Joyce had given him the best of
Christmas presents—her own sweet self.
So the little Rosses lost their former maid and present governess, but
kept always their friend in her who soon became Joyce Caruth.
On the Christmas-tree at Springfield that year, Joyce found the ring
that Adelaide had offered her on her twenty-first birthday. The girl
sent it to be placed there, and Joyce gladly accepted what she felt to
be a token of true cousinly love, and told her so.
In after days, when the once penniless niece was a happy wife, Mrs.
Walter Evans was heard to declare that Joyce had improved wonderfully.
But then, in her eyes, wealth and position were the greatest of all
claims to respect. Without these all other excellences were as nothing.
No need to tell the names of the many who rejoiced to see the happiness
of her who, as Joyce Mirlees, had tried to make others happy, or to say
that none of these were forgotten by Joyce Caruth.
Beneath her roof, Captain Tyson met his fate, in the person of Adelaide
Evans, and there, too, Mr. Evans is a frequent guest.
"To think that you should choose one who for awhile was 'only a
servant,'" said Joyce to her husband, some time after their marriage.
"Dearest," he answered, "that word servant always brings pleasant
thoughts to my mind. As a soldier, I was ever proud to call myself the
servant of Queen and country; but I rejoice more when I think of Him
who took upon Himself the form of a servant, and came on earth, not to
be ministered unto, but to minister. Faithful service to an earthly
master is right honourable, but to be the faithful, humble servant of
God is far better than to be a king amongst men. May it be your lot and
mine, dear Joyce, thus to serve!"
And with Christmas bells bringing to mind thoughts of the first
Christmas morning, Joyce whispered "Amen."
THE END.