FOR EVER AFTER?
Twelve months later an old year was passing away in perfect calm. If it
had been memorable for no other reason, the weather would have made it
so, for no year had been more stormy or wrought more violently than
this; now, however, as if it knew a late repentance, and had grown
ashamed and sorry for the excesses of its hot youth, it seemed to be
caring for nothing but to take and give the kiss of peace before it
died. Nature was in a mood of profound sympathy. Enough snow had fallen
to beautify all rugged and unlovely things; the wind had ceased its loud
tones, and only spoke in whispers; the moon spread its light over the
restful world, and the stars shone in the blue heavens like lamps of
gold.
There were thousands of people waiting in the expectancy of faith and
hope, who felt that an augury of good had come to them with that night.
There was a gathering of notable people in John Dallington’s house at
Darentdale, who intended together to see the old year out and the new
year in. Arthur Knight had issued an invitation to them all to meet at
Brent House in London, the home of his boyhood, but if they had done so
the meeting must have been without Margaret, for she declared that not
for all the friends she had would she leave her baby, or run the risk of
his taking cold on a journey, and therefore the meeting was at
Darentdale, since Margaret’s absence was not to be tolerated.
It was a representative gathering, and Arthur Knight called it a
“stock-taking supper,” for they had met, not only to see one another,
but to consider their gains and losses. He was the first to arrive, and
Dr. Stapleton came next. Then followed Mr. Collinson, known all over
England now as the Children’s Pastor, because he had insisted that a
minister’s first duty was to the young of the congregation. Mr.
Stapleton, the builder, was also there; so was Mr. Emerson, the vicar of
Darentdale; and also Miss Wentworth and Mary Wythburn, besides Mr.
Whitwell and his daughter Tom, with several other friends and helpers,
among them a man who was ready to give his life for Arthur Knight, a
servant and companion, who always spoke of himself as “the boy who threw
the stone at the Knight.” There were also one visitor from America and
one from Germany.
Darentdale presented a different appearance from that which it revealed
on the morning after its master had returned from his travels. There
were now no leaves on the trees nor primroses in the woods; and yet, as
he glanced over the scene, he thought it more lovely than ever. One
reason was that he had kept his resolution and redeemed the land. It was
a happy day to him, as well as to his uncle and cousin, when he paid off
the mortgage which had always been a trouble to him. And the means by
which he had been enabled to do this had in themselves been reasons of
rejoicing. He had been quite determined not to use a penny of his wife’s
money, even for so good an end. Equally determined was he that the
labourers on his farm should not suffer because he had a debt to pay.
The way out of his difficulty had been one proposed by his friend
Knight, who had come to him one day with a proposition. “Since your land
is so dear to you,” he said, “I do not ask you to sell it; but will you
let me have a few fields on a long lease that I may plant a factory and
some workmen’s houses upon it?”
Dallington was only too glad to do this. There was a waste piece of land
that only grew gorse and bushes, and that land was now covered with
pretty houses, of which Dallington was as proud as Knight.
The latter had conducted the American visitor over this place in the
morning, and he wanted to talk of nothing else.
“Will you explain to me, Mr. Knight, what you mean by calling this new
colony of yours a Missionary Settlement?” he asked.
“Certainly. It has been built wholly at the request of some of my
Craighelbyl people, whose money is invested in it. They are men who have
made the Welsh place a success, and who, happy in their new life, have
not forgotten their old companions in London. They petitioned me to
advance the money, and allow them to take it up in shares and manage it.
It is really a co-operative concern, as the Craighelbyl place is fast
becoming now. The factory is to produce second-class goods—that is,
articles which are to be worth every penny asked for them, and warranted
to wear, but without the finish, the polish, for which our other goods
are—if you will excuse the egotism of a manufacturer—known all over the
world. These men of mine are themselves conducting this factory, and
every man whom they employ is one who has been rescued from drunkenness
or some other wrongdoing. So, you see, it is more than a factory—it is a
mission of usefulness. Every foreman or manager is pledged to patience
and watchfulness. No one has been allowed to help in this matter who is
not known to be a strong and consistent Christian man. Of course, they
have had some disappointments. They told me to-day that already they
have had to send to the Asylum for drunkenness as incurable six men and
seven women; but they are hopeful that these will prove the only ones
who need go; and that the workpeople, brought away from the temptations
of London, will live sober and godly lives.”
“You have greatly solved the problem of the poor by taking them from the
crowded centres of great cities.”
“Yes; I do not think we could have accomplished all that has been done
excepting in this way. I know of more than four hundred manufacturers
who have taken their people and their work away from big towns to little
villages—where land is cheaper and the air is fresh—and there have
helped them to begin life again under new conditions. In this way
numbers become quite manageable. Every man, woman, and child is known to
the master and the mistress, who are now awake to their responsibility,
and understand that if they employ people it is their duty to look after
them and care for them. I believe there is not a Christian man in
England to-day who regards his _employés_ merely as hands to earn money
for him.”
“Thank God!”
“Yes, indeed, we have reason to thank God. There has been a great
awakening of the individual conscience in the Church.”
“We in America consider your latest liquor law rather severe.”
“We have had to be severe in order to be kind,” said Dr. Stapleton. “The
Legislature was resolved to stamp out drunkenness at any cost; and I
believe it is in a fair way to be accomplished now. We never required so
few prisons as we do now; and it was a good idea to use them as refuges
for drunkards, and compel every man or woman who had been thrice
convicted of drunkenness to live in them.”
“This has been a marvellously executive year,” said Mr. Emerson. “It has
been like a dream. Only a few years ago, and at every Christmas time
there were numbers of men out of work, and some nearly starving, and now
there is work for every man who likes to do it.”
“And, what is almost better still, every man has to work whether he
likes it or not,” said Mr. Stapleton.
“You nearly had a revolution over that thing, though,” said the
American. “The liberty of the subject was in danger.”
“Yes; only a Government that knew its own strength could have given such
an excellent definition of liberty as ours has,” replied Mr. Whitwell.
“Every man has liberty to do right, but no one has licence to do that
which is evil.”
“But the happy change which has been brought about is not the work of
the Government. It is the work of a united Church,” said Mr. Emerson.
“That which has been accomplished might have been done long ago if the
Church had known its power and done its duty.”
“You might have said if the Church had been Christian,” suggested Tom
Whitwell.
“But no new thing has happened, nor has any new doctrine been preached,”
said Knight. “The only reason of all the change is that we have come to
believe that what was said in Nazareth eighteen centuries ago is true
and possible. We were told all along that the merciful were blessed,
that the pure in heart should see God, that those who hungered and
thirsted after righteousness should be filled, and we have simply
discovered that when Jesus gave His few plain directions regarding His
kingdom He did not make impossible regulations. That is all.”
“Yes, that is all. But it is not a little.”
“The best of it is that the light is flooding Germany and America as
well as England,” said the German guest.
“And,” replied Arthur Knight, “Canada has been blessed that it has such
a son as Macdonald. How I wish he could have been with us to-night! He
has been invited to deliver his message in all the States of America.
What he has done for and in the Church of England only God knows. He has
been a second Wesley, or a Church Spurgeon, or a modern St. Francis of
Assisi. If he has not taught the people to love poverty, he has made
them ashamed of being afraid of it; and the young men of the Church are
being convinced that there are more desirable things than luxury,
wealth, and idleness, and they are proving that there are no such noble
men in the world as Englishmen who are Christians. Macdonald, too, has
done much to bring about that Christian union to which we owe
everything. A united Church has done what nothing else could do, and
completely lifted the poor and the degraded out of their former
position.”
“One wonders now,” said Mr. Collinson, “how it could be that so many of
the best people never seemed to give any thought to their social and
relative duties.”
“It is strange, indeed; but it can scarcely ever be the case again.”
“Oh, surely not, for very shame! So many have come to realise that their
birth, and education, and wealth are given to them in trust for others,
that they will not dare to use them entirely for themselves in the
future.”
“It is something that at last goodness and kindness are fashionable,”
said Miss Wentworth.
“Do you think there is any hope of a general disarmament?” inquired the
German.
“There is a hope, certainly. The events of the past months have made a
profound impression all over Europe and America. At present there is
assuredly no nation with sufficient courage to declare war.”
“The people are disgusted with it; and now, as always, they form the
final Court of Appeal, in Germany as everywhere else.”
“The best of it is that, so far as England is concerned, we have the
boys on our side,” said Mr. Collinson. “There is no sign so hopeful as
this. Your appeal, Mr. Knight, is bringing an abundant harvest of good.”
“Yes; our hope is in the boys. I watched a number of them in the
gymnasium the other day, and a fine time they were having; but the
difference that a year or two has made in their language and behaviour
is very marked.”
“Mr. Collinson, the children’s minister of Granchester, has had much to
do with that,” said Dr. Stapleton, “for he set the example, which other
ministers have followed.”
“Ah, no!” said Mr. Collinson. “The originators of the Society of the
Young Crusaders have accomplished the greatest thing of the generation.
What fine fellows those boys are! They are the saviours of the nation! I
declare to you, Stapleton, that I never see your nephew without feeling
that I must take off my hat to him.”
“Yes; if the Society goes on manufacturing men of this kind we need have
no fear for the future. They will finish what we begin. I am glad that
the girls are being well looked after, too,” said Miss Wentworth.
“The great effort of the day on their behalf,” said Arthur Knight, “must
be to make them domesticated and home-loving, for our young Crusaders
are growing up with the idea that it is a disgrace to men to let their
sisters and daughters work for a living. That is the duty and privilege
of the male.”
“The boys of England are having a splendid training now,” said Mr.
Whitwell. “Our plan—to put every boy that is born under the care of a
good Christian woman (his mother, if possible, and, if not, some
other)—is having excellent results.”
“It is only going back to the old idea of the Church,” said Mr. Emerson.
“Every child is to have a godmother and godfather. All that is best in
these modern improvements has come from our section of the Church.”
An amused silence which followed this remark was broken by a question,
put by the German, in regard to Craighelbyl, which Mr. Knight answered.
“The cure for strikes everywhere is to give the people a direct share in
the business. Craighelbyl has adopted this plan from the first. The
people are buying their homes with the rent they pay. I gave them twenty
years in which to do it; but they got dissatisfied, and considered that
too long a time. Perhaps it was. I am getting recouped more quickly than
I expected; and the time is short yet. So I gave in. We talked the
matter over together, and I altered the term to fifteen years, at the
end of which time, supposing the rents to be faithfully paid, every
man’s house will be his own. But all men are not alike; some save money
more quickly than others, even though they earn but little more; so I
have had a sum fixed for every house, and if a man can pay it off in ten
years, or even less, I have no objection. Some will be their own
landlords in less than ten years, I believe.”
“And what will you do with the business?”
“If they are willing to unite together, and buy it as a co-operative
affair, I shall sell it to them. I think they will, for the old jealousy
which they used to feel towards each other, and the suspicion with which
they regarded any man who seemed to be doing well, are less than they
were.”
“Everybody who serves in any capacity is chosen by vote, is he not?”
asked the American.
“Excepting myself, the minister, the schoolmaster, and the doctor.
Eventually, perhaps,” said Knight with a smile, “they may choose
individuals to fill our places, but at present we have been given to
them, whether they liked us or not. In Craighelbyl the people are very
keen and critical. We have fine men there. Hancourt has been a splendid
manager of the business. I am sure he will always be triumphantly put
back in his place, whatever new candidates are forthcoming. We have an
Irishman for a doctor. The people pay no fees; they are doctored at my
expense, because it is very much to my advantage that I should have
healthy workpeople; and we have very little sickness, because the
sanitary arrangements are good, and the first symptoms of disease are
promptly seen and met.”
“Do they all go to church?” inquired the German.
“No; but a very large majority may be found there. They nearly all go to
the Sunday-evening concert, held from eight to nine in the lecture-hall,
where high-class sacred music is performed and sacred songs are sung.”
“Do you pay these musicians and singers?”
“No; they give their services very willingly, for they are our own
people. Those who have musical taste and talent receive an education in
music, as do those who are scientifically inclined in science.”
“I suppose all education is free?”
“Most certainly! You see, my point is that I shall be best served by an
educated, contented, and healthy set of people. It is all a matter of
self-interest.”
During the laugh that greeted this assertion Mrs. Dallington arose, and
the ladies followed her into the drawing-room. Mary Wythburn sat before
the organ with a book of Mendelssohn before her, and the other guests
made themselves comfortable, to listen or think, as they pleased; but
Margaret and Miss Whitwell sought a quiet corner for talk.
“Madge, how well and happy you look.”
“And I look as I am! Dear old Tom, I hope you will stay a long time now,
for you do not know half the delightful things my baby can do. Your
father must spare you. To have you here is just the crown to my joy.”
Margaret’s dark eyes were looking full into the face of her friend.
“I suppose you are quite busy again, Margaret,” asked Tom.
“Yes. There is plenty of work close at hand, and, you know, Tom, we
always said that the thing that was nearest was the right thing to do.”
“But I am not so sure about that now as I used to be.”
“Oh, you may be certain it is right in the main! We are going to have
‘At Homes’ every Saturday afternoon and evening for the youths and the
girls on the farm. I want the girls to copy my home as well as my dress.
We shall make them welcome, and see that they have good times—in the
drawing-room in the winter, and the garden in the summer; and we hope
they will be having an object-lesson all the time. I used to think this
sort of thing not altogether kind, and to be afraid that after
experiencing the comfort and refinement of such a home as ours they
would go back to their own abodes more discontented than ever. But I am
not afraid of that now, for the contrasts are not so great; they can all
have comfortable homes too.”
“Ah! Darentdale led the way.”
“It did; and I cannot tell you how thankful I am. It used to be shameful
that people were compelled to live in such utter, hopeless misery as
they did only a few years ago.”
“Are you going to have the youths and the girls at the same time, and
together, at these ‘At Homes’ of yours?”
“Certainly; why not? Were they not intended to be together?”
“Your house will become a paradise of lovers, Margaret.”
“I only hope it may. I promise myself all sorts of pleasures in watching
my friends making the discovery that they love and are beloved. Do you
know, Miss Thomasine Grace Whitwell, that there is nothing in all the
world half so well worth winning and having as that?”
“That? What?”
“You do not need me to tell you, I am sure.”
“You were always romantic, Margaret. Our friend, Mary Wythburn, does not
agree with you.”
“I am afraid not.” And she glanced significantly towards Mary, and Dr.
Stapleton, who had been the first to join her, and who had gone at once
to turn over the leaves of the music-book. “You know, Tom, we are all
committed to the task of securing the greatest happiness for the
greatest number; and whoever makes herself and one other individual
happy is doing something towards it.”
“Margaret, you are getting most disgracefully frivolous. I shall move to
the piano. I am in danger here of being corrupted.”
Mary had left the instrument, and some one was asking, “Will not Miss
Whitwell sing for us?”
“Miss Whitwell is not at all in a singing mood,” she said; but John
Dallington added his request, and she was too good-natured to refuse. At
first she played a sonata, then a march; but “A song! a song!” cried her
friends, and she gave them a ditty of her own:
“There was, among the fields of earth,
A little patch of ground,
Which loving hearts held priceless,
And tender hands hedged round,—
A small brown patch, with naught to show,
Save a weed here and there;
But it proved a triumph-trophy, won
By kindliness and care.
“Frosts sealed it down in safe, close warmth
Till the cold passed away;
Then genial showers fell softly,
Then the sun shone all day,
And deft hands turned it over,
And treasures green and gold
With lavish generosity
Were given for it to hold.
“And through the summer, beautiful
Was that same patch of ground,
For fragrant flowers, and rich, ripe fruits,
And golden corn were found.
And over it the glad birds sang
Their merry hymns and lays,
And near to it the hearts of men
Poured forth their Master’s praise.
“And, best of all, He came to see
The patch of ground prepared,
And His eyes noted the green spot,
And knew how it had fared;
And smiled the gentle Master then,
For He saw what love had won,
And crowned the workers with the words:
‘My faithful ones, well done!’”
“Now, Margaret, it is your turn,” said the singer. “Give us something
merry.”
“The Doctor will do that,” said John; and Stapleton gave “Rule,
Britannia!” with variations, that were very varied indeed.
After a time, “Will not Mr. Knight favour us with a song?” asked
Margaret. “I know he does sing.”
“Not often,” replied Arthur, as he took his seat at the piano, and
prepared to accompany himself.
All eyes in the room turned affectionately towards him.
“He is a man, take him for all in all,
We ne’er shall look upon his like again.”
John Dallington made the quotation softly, so that only those nearest to
him heard it; but they realised its aptness as they looked at the truest
knight of the century. What a brave battle he had fought, and how little
he regarded himself as a hero! How unswervingly he had run his course,
turning neither to the right nor the left, but reaching the goal of his
desire only to lay his victor’s crown on the altar of his faith. A man
of remarkable talents, indeed, and thankful for every one of them; for
the high thoughts which he knew had been given to him, not made by him,
for the power to speak so that men were persuaded, for the health which
had enabled him to endure fatigue, and the wealth which he might use as
he pleased, and for the courage of his convictions, which had made him
do where others had but ventured to dream! He could not ignore it all on
this, the last day of the year, any more than others did, but he had
many misgivings and regrets to keep him humble. Strange to say, he was
feeling very lonely, though in the midst of his dearest friends; and
perhaps the sight of Dallington’s happiness made him realise more than
ever before that, however much he had gained, he had missed something
without which no man’s life is complete. His thoughts were with his
father. Some one a few minutes before had asked him whether he ever took
up a newspaper nowadays without seeing his own name in it; and he
answered half irritably, “Yes, very often,” for that was not a
particularly interesting item to him; then he wondered what his father
would think of it all if he could know; and a shadow of self-reproach
stole over him, and a fear, lest, after all, he had not done wisely and
well. But they were waiting for his song, and presently his voice, to
which he owed so much, rang out clearly, though in subdued tones:—
“Give pardon to-night,
O God of the light!
For we are like children who wail in the shade,
Half afraid;
And look up to Thy face
For love, comfort, and grace.
Around Thee we gather—
Forgive us, our Father!
“The day breaks at last,
The shadows are past,
And we must go forward, pursuing our way
Through the day;
Go Thou where we go,
Thy will make us know,
And, all danger scorning,
Go forth to the morning.”
“The morning is almost here,” said Dallington.
“Would you not like to meet the year outside? It is a glorious night.”
The scene in the garden was so beautiful that few words were spoken. It
was as if the very world held its breath and listened. A silence fell on
every one, for every heart was full of prayer. Margaret forgot all her
guests for a few minutes, and slipped her hand within the arm of her
husband. Miss Whitwell stood a little apart from the rest, thinking her
own thoughts. Dr. Stapleton whispered to Miss Wythburn an old wish from
Shakespeare—
“God give thee many days of happy years.”
Arthur Knight repeated his own words:
“Give pardon to-night, O God of the light!”
Then the silence was so deep that it seemed almost as if their thoughts
could be heard. Perhaps they were! Miss Whitwell softly whispered
hers—“The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble, the name of the God of
Jacob defend thee; send thee help from the sanctuary, and strengthen
thee out of Zion; remember all thy offerings, and accept thy burnt
sacrifice; grant thee thy heart’s desire, and fulfil all thy mind.” Some
irresistible power drew her eyes to where Arthur Knight was standing,
looking perhaps the most sorrowfully of any of the party. He met her
look, and a thought flashed into his mind that electrified him.
“Can it be possible! Did she really only care for Dallington as a
cousin! What does it mean? Can it be?——”
With a sudden impulse of hope he stepped to her side.
“Grace,” he said, “the old house in London is very solitary; and so is
the heart of its owner, in Craighelbyl as well as in London.”
“Oh, no, no!” she said. “How can you be solitary when you have been so
honoured?”
“Grace, do you know that I love you, that I have loved you all the time,
ever since I first knew you?”
Again she whispered, “Oh, no, no!” scarcely knowing what she said. But
Arthur had put his arm around her, and could feel the beating of her
heart. “Oh, my darling,” he said, “is it possible that you can care for
me? I had not dared to hope it! Is it really true that we may begin the
year together—_together_?”
The first stroke of the Darentdale church clock struck through the
silence of the night. Arthur drew the trembling girl more closely to
him, and held her fast while the slow bell sounded twelve times. She
tried to be perfectly still, and not even sigh forth the gladness that
was almost breaking her heart; but when the clock ceased, and the bells
pealed out, she lifted her eyes to his face for a moment, and he stooped
and kissed her.
Then they remembered their friends, but no one seemed to have observed
them. The old formula, “A Happy New Year!” was on the lips of all; but
before it could be uttered some one began to sing the opening words of
the _Te Deum_, and everybody sang with a full heart: “We praise Thee, O
God; we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord. All the earth doth worship
Thee, the Father everlasting.” Then dark forms were seen coming quietly
towards them; and presently Dallington said to Knight, “They are the
people from the village; they have come over the hill to wish you a
Happy New Year. Ah! the thousands who would like to do the same thing!
How well they sing!” And indeed they did sing, joining in the anthem, as
if every one was contrasting the joy of this New Year with the sorrows
of past days, and feeling such joy and thankfulness as could only be
expressed in praise to the Great Father. And that old grand psalm of the
ages, sung in many an august scene, never thrilled with fuller meaning
than now, when the stars looked down upon the singers, and the very air
of the night seemed alive with human emotion. So the anthem swelled to
its close—“O Lord, in Thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded!”
THE END.
LONDON:
W. SPEAIGHT AND SONS, PRINTERS,
FETTER LANE.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. P. 121, changed “The next moment she met her cousin. “Tom,” he said”
to “The next moment she met her cousin. “Tom,” she said.”
2. P. 207, changed “was an ideal day for a holiday, not too hot to be
pleasant” to “was an ideal day for a holiday, not too hot to be
unpleasant”.
3. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
4. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.