THE STORY ENDS IN PEACE AND SUNSHINE, AND I TAKE LEAVE OF MY KIND
READERS
I will leave you to imagine the joy and thankfulness at Alva when
the news of Sir John’s arrival at London reached us, for no words of
mine can express it; and when it was known that the pardon was an
accomplished fact, and that the good knight was on his way home, the
happy excitement rose to the highest pitch.
What joy it was to see my lady’s altered mien, to hear the thrill in
her voice and watch the smiles trembling round her mouth! The little
boys were wild with delight at the prospect of seeing again their
much-loved father; and there was not a neighbour nor a tenant on the
place, who did not rejoice in the good news and sympathise with our
happiness.
Mr. Patrick Campbell was to accompany Sir John on his journey from
London, and his wife came over from Monzie to meet them both. Old Lady
Alva was with us, and also Aunt Betty, while at my lady’s invitation my
Lord and Lady Wemyss arrived to join in the general welcome. How gay we
were, how busy with preparations, how full of thankfulness and relief!
Although the year was near November, it seemed to me as if we were
bidding good-bye to the darkness of winter and preparing to welcome the
summer; and Nature kindly did nothing to discourage me in the thought,
for the sun shone warm and bright, and though the trees were casting
their leaves they were not yet bare, and the gold and ruddy tints,
softened by silver mists and purple shadows, still made the landscape
lovely. Nothing was wanting to complete my satisfaction but the
presence of my lover, and once or twice, I must own, my heart cried out
in the midst of my happiness, “Would that he too were coming!”
According to his agreement it was necessary for Sir John to stop in
Edinburgh for an interview with Dr. Brandshagen, whose letters of
instruction were that he should wait for the knight to show him his
mines himself. By someone’s good management, I suppose, there had been
a convenient delay in supplying the German with funds, so that he was
obliged to remain where he was till he received them; but Sir John,
having expressed his readiness with all courtesy to carry out his part
of the bargain at any moment, there was nothing now left for him to do
but to hasten homewards, whither his heart, I doubt not, had already
flown.
He had been so thoughtful as to send an express to my lady from
Edinburgh to prepare her for his arrival, and the next afternoon we
were all assembled with beating hearts to listen for the farthest sound
of horse’s feet.
“My papa will be here in plenty of time for my birthday,” cried little
Hal, as he ceased his jumping about the room and climbed into my lap.
“I am a luckier boy than Charles. Does Sir John know that I am grown so
big, Cousin Barbe?”
I could scarce listen to the child’s chatter nor answer it, but when
Charles put his hand upon my shoulder, and whispered, “How I wish he
were bringing Captain Anthony!” I turned and kissed him on the cheek,
with a sudden pain in my heart.
At last--at last we heard them coming--the galloping growing nearer
and nearer, the shouts of the country-folk assembled along the road
becoming louder and more distinct.
“Hurrah! hurrah!” “Long life to Sir John!” “Glad to see ye hame again!”
“Welcome, welcome!” we could indeed distinguish the words for we
were now standing at the door, my lady with a son in each hand, her
mother-in-law beside her, we others pressing round, and the servants
just behind. The tears were running down the old lady’s cheeks, and
Aunt Betty was sobbing loudly, her kerchief to her eyes; but I looked
at my lady’s quiet face, and though it was pale, I was struck by the
lovely light that shone there. “Sure,” thought I, “no husband returning
home was ever greeted by a sweeter, truer wife!”
And then the cavalcade swept into sight, and we caught our breath, and
a low sound that was neither laugh nor cry, but partook of both, broke
from the lips of all.
Sir John rode first, his head bared in the sunshine, his face alight
with joy, and our eyes were fixed upon him. Almost before he reached
the door he checked his horse, and dismounting quickly, turned with
hands outstretched. It was as if he saw one face alone in all that
crowd, as if he cared for the welcome of but one voice. His mother
uttered his name in loving, trembling tones; his boys ran forward
gleefully to clasp his knees; but he did not speak nor heed them till,
without a word, my lady staggered to his arms and was clasped in a long
embrace.
And then, I knew not why, the unbidden tears came to my eyes, and
turning away to hide them, I encountered a sudden shock. Was I
dreaming? Oh, what did it mean, and how had it happened? Or were my
eyes playing me false? I dashed the tears away and looked again. And
there close at my side, his face aglow with feeling, his eyes dim with
their mighty love, stood my dear Anthony, so tall and brave and strong
and full of joy, that, in spite of the publicity, I followed my lady’s
example and threw myself into his arms.
I emerged from them to be greeted with sympathetic laughter and a
shower of questions. “Where did he come from?” “Did you know, Barbara;
were you expecting him?” “Why did you not tell us?” But dazed with my
surprise and happiness, I could only look from him to them and back
again.
Sir John came to my rescue with a great kind laugh that did me good to
hear.
“No, no, I can answer for it. Barbara knew nothing of this. But when I
met the young gentleman at York a night or two ago, and he confided to
me that he was on his way to my house, I very naturally asked him to
join my party and go along with us, thinking I should be none the less
welcome here for bringing him in my train.”
You will know then that Barbara’s cup of happiness was full to the
brim, and when my dear lady said, out before them all,
“It wanted only this to make the day perfect; none but myself know how
good, how brave and patient our Barbara has been. I think she is being
rewarded for all her unselfish love to me!”
Well, when she spoke thus, my cup overflowed.
* * * * *
It was indeed a perfect day, an earnest of others as perfect to follow!
How strangely pleasant it was at dinner to see Sir John again in his
place, his hospitable smile showing us all what pleasure the meeting
gave him. How sweet to see my lady’s tremulous happiness, and the
almost wistful way she hung upon her husband’s words. Old Lady Alva
sat near him and Betty upon the other side; Mr. Campbell and his wife
were together, “for,” said he, “we have been so many weeks separate
that we are as good as lovers again.” My Anthony sat at my lady’s left
hand, (my Lord Wemyss being on her right), and Barbara by his side. The
little boys were admitted to the banquet to their vast delight, and
even poor Aunt Betty’s face was wreathed in smiles. It would indeed
have been difficult to find a happier party in all Scotland.
When dessert was on the table and the servants gone, Sir John brought
out of his pocket the immediate cause of our peace and contentment.
You have all seen it--the great document with the portrait of King
George in the left-hand corner, and the “broad seal” attached--the
Remission, or Pardon, without which we could never have welcomed Sir
John to his home, nor indeed enjoyed any real happiness. With what awe
and interest we gazed upon it, as we listened to Mr. Campbell’s story
of the wonderful part he had played in procuring it. Each point in
the narrative was fraught with thrilling meaning to us, who through
all those weary months had waited in uncertainty for this happy
consummation. How we smiled and sighed as we recalled our hopes and
fears, and thanked God in our hearts that all such anxiety was laid to
rest at last.
When the conversation had again become general my Anthony turned to me,
and whispered,
“I also bear in my pocket a document which means nearly as much to me
as that other to Sir John;” and under cover of the table he presently
slipped into my lap a letter addressed to me in an unknown hand. I
need scarcely tell you that I apprehended its purport as soon as I saw
it, and smiled my silent agreement. It was as I surmised, from Mr.
Fleming’s parents, welcoming me with warm approval as the future wife
of their dear son, and agreeing very kindly to leave all arrangements
for our marriage in the hands of my guardians, Sir John and Lady
Erskine. My Anthony’s pardon had been easy to arrange, his father
having many friends at court. But he was under oath never to take up
arms against King George as long as he lived, for which reason, he told
me, laughing, it was a mercy that most of his life would be passed away
from Britain, so that he was not likely to be tempted in that way again.
I remember telling him how glad I was that my husband was to be a
civilian, making his living peacefully by the pen instead of the sword,
so that I should not be obliged to go in fear of my life every time
there was a war. How little did I then think that after thirty years he
should again become a soldier, and win for himself honour and a Title,
fighting in the service of the East India Company against Governor
Dupliex in the Carnatic. Still stranger would it have been to know that
his being wounded and disabled in these same wars should contribute
to my peace of mind, but so it was, for the misfortune put an end to
his soldiering, and brought us back to England, thus proving itself a
blessing in disguise.
* * * * *
And now, my dears, the story I set out to tell you is done. Like
all human histories it is a mingling of joy and sorrow, of laughter
and tears, and perhaps, looking at the hidden heart of things, the
tears predominate. But it were not wise to end a tale like this upon
a tragic note. God veils in mercy the future from our eyes, else were
it not possible properly to enjoy His many blessings; and so I am glad
to leave my dear Lady Erskine at this bright and peaceful season of
her life, to see her as I love best to remember her, standing in the
sunshine, the haunting fear gone from her eyes, and the sweet light of
loving welcome transfiguring her face.
* * * * *
For more than three months I have been living in the past, seeing the
friends of my girlhood, and listening to the tones of their voices.
At times I have raised my eyes from the paper before me, dazed and
bewildered to find myself alone--an old woman with my life behind me,
and so many of those dear ones gone. Now the Summer is over, the Autumn
days are drawing in; no longer does the mavis sing in the garden, and
as I write these lines, a moaning wind arises and whirls the leaves
across the darkening lawn. But far overhead in the pale sky the stars
are coming out; they speak to my heart of Heavenly Consolation, and as
I thank God that I am not left desolate, I hear my dear Sir Anthony’s
step outside upon the stair.
And so, my dears, adieu.
THE END
W. JOLLY & SONS, PRINTERS, ABERDEEN
_POPULAR NOVELS BY MAY WYNNE_
Author of “Henry of Navarre,” “A Maid of Brittany,” &c.
In Crown 8vo, Cloth gilt. Price 6s. each
A KING’S TRAGEDY
BY
MAY WYNNE
Author of “Henry of Navarre,” &c.
“Miss May Wynne has enhanced her reputation, already firmly established
by a splendidly-written romance, founded upon Scottish history relating
to the fifteenth century. The troublous times after the return of
James I. of Scotland to his throne from captivity in England are
interestingly dealt with. The local colouring is graphically given and
the internecine troubles between the Highland Clans, their modes of
warfare and the horribly vindictive spirit in which their raids and
forays were carried out are related in a manner which is faithfully
true to both history and tradition. The loves and adventures of Sir
Alan Kennedy and his brother David are made the medium through which
the interest of the reader is centred and retained through a most
charming book.”
_Liverpool Daily Post._
THE GOAL
By the Author of “Henry of Navarre,” &c.
_The STANDARD says--_
“‘The Goal’ with its pleasant studies of village friendships, its
sincere love of beautiful country sights and scenes, its delicate
portraiture and its characters will win many true and warm admirers....
The scene between two children and the gossipy old maid is in its way
quite a triumph. Miss Wynne’s sketches of girls are done with great
charity, sweetness and charm.”
LONDON:
DIGBY, LONG & Co., 18, Bouverie St., Fleet St., E.C.
Transcriber’s Notes
• Italics represented with _underscores_.
• Small caps converted to ALL CAPS.
• Illustrations relocated close to relevant content.
• Obvious typographic errors silently corrected. No corrections made
to the quoted letters as the author seems to intend to represent the
letter writer’s original with errors intact.
• Variations in hyphenation and spelling have been kept as in the original.
• Footnote numbered and relocated next to relevant paragraph.