The Dream of the Past.
Time heals all wounds. It did so with Betty. Her great faith reconciled
her to Edith's death, though the loss of her friendship was a keen
sorrow for a long time.
George's marriage to Alma--this was a trial to Betty that threatened to
culminate her mission. President Gladder was worried about her health.
"You seem very unwell, Betty," he said kindly. "Would you like to go
home?"
But Betty pleaded not to be released. "I'll be better soon," she said,
bravely. "I do love my mission, so it will help me."
So Betty stayed, and gave her whole heart to her mission work. It was
not long before she was her old bright, sunny self.
Fortunately George and Alma went on a prolonged trip to Europe. Betty's
love for George was unchanged, but she, finally, found an unselfish joy
in thinking of his happiness with Alma and Harold.
With this overcoming of self, Betty became a woman, and an added
sweetness was hers. Everywhere her mission work was a great success.
When her release came, which was just before George and Alma returned
from Europe, President Gladder parted with her with deep regret.
"Betty, when you are gone, I shall miss a great power in the mission."
Betty flushed with pleasure.
"Whatever has been done, has been done through me, and not by me," she
replied humbly.
*****
It was a beautiful, clear day, when Alma, now Alma Cadman, entered her
old home with George and Harold. The boy was in excellent spirits after
seeing the wonderful world, and his constant, eager questions about
what he had seen and heard, made the homecoming void of serious thought.
It was Alma's wish to keep the home untouched by any changes. George,
quick to read her thoughts, knew that she lived much with Will's
memory, and longed to keep the old surroundings.
George respected her devotion. It did not make her morbid, for
Harold was her living joy, and in him she found her new thoughts and
activities. Her fondness for George was as it always had been, and his
companionship destroyed her loneliness, and she was able to smile and
be happy once more.
Alma went eagerly from room to room, George and Harold following.
"Let the library be last," said George smiling.
"Why?" asked Alma surprised.
"My wedding present was to greet you on my return, was it not?"
"Just what I'm looking for," she replied laughing, though in reality
not having thought of it until this moment.
"It is in the library," answered George quietly. "We will inspect all
the house first."
"How clean it all looks! Who did you trust to keep it like this? I
expected to find it all cob webs?"
"Betty begged me to leave the keys with her, so that she could see to
it herself. It was her secret, you know."
"Dear Betty! Always doing something kind! I must see her tomorrow,
surely."
At last they reached the library.
"May I?" she asked, with her hand upon the door knob.
"Yes or no, would be the same to an inquisitive little woman," he
answered, laughing down at her.
She opened the door and they entered. The light was just strong enough
to show the room, cosy and inviting as they had left it.
Alma looked around wonderingly.
"I don't see it, she said, turning to George.
"O! Mus! Look! Look!", cried Harold, who had ran across the room, and
stood staring up at the wall in open-mouthed wonder.
Alma turned. With a cry of painful joy, she stood transfixed.
Over the mantle of the fireplace, hung a life-size painting of Will
Lambert. The massive gold frame was a brilliant setting for a perfect
likeness, which looked down upon them with the direct glance which
gives a picture the semblance of life.
For a few moments she gazed into Will's fine dark eyes.
Harold, not removing his eyes from their new discovery, gradually edged
up to his mother, and slipped his hand into hers.
"Mus, it's Daddy!" he said in an awed whisper. "Will he come back to
us?"
Alma's arms encircled the boy and she pressed his curly head close to
her without answering.
George came forward, and touched the boy's arm.
"Come, Harold. You know you promised to show Cousin George all your
wonderful toys. I'm going to live here now."
"Always?" asked Harold eagerly, leaving his mother's arms.
"Always, if you are very good to me, sir!"
George took Harold's hand, and led him from the room. Gently closing
the door, he left Alma alone with his gift to her.
Long she looked at her Will. Memories, tender, and suffused with a
passionate regret, swept over her being.
"O Will! Will! Do you forgive me? But for my selfish, shallow life, you
would be here now!"
His eyes seemed to smile soothingly, and she could not seem to take her
gaze from him.
Then suddenly Alma thought of the giver of this gift.
How good and noble George was! She had not even thought to thank him.
She was just about to leave the room, when a letter on the table
attracted her attention.
"Betty's hand-writing!" she exclaimed in delight.
Opening it she read,
"Dear friends:--Welcome home again! May every happiness be yours!
"I'm so sorry I could not see you before going West. I have just been
released from my mission. However, I am soon coming back to New York to
study dramatic art, and hope then to see you.
"With love to you all, as ever,
"Betty."
***********