THE REVELATION OF THE ROSARY
Simpson was crossing the hall just before half-past six o'clock. He had
left his master in the library. He heard a rustle just above him; and,
looking up, saw a tall figure descending the wide oak staircase.
Simpson stood transfixed. The soft black evening-gown, with its
trailing folds, and old lace at the bosom, did not impress him so much
as the quiet look of certainty and power on the calm face above them.
"Simpson," said Jane, "my aunt, the Duchess of Meldrum, and her maid,
and her footman, and a rather large quantity of luggage, will be
arriving from Aberdeen, at about half-past seven. Mrs. Graem knows
about preparing rooms; and I have given James orders for meeting the
train with the brougham, and the luggage-cart. The duchess dislikes
motors. When her Grace arrives, you can show her into the library. We
will dine in the dining-room at a quarter past eight. Meanwhile, Mr.
Dalmain and myself are particularly engaged just now, and must not be
disturbed on any account, until the duchess's arrival. You quite
understand?"
"Yes, miss-m'lady," stammered Simpson. He had been boot-boy in a ducal
household early in his career; and he considered duchesses' nieces to
be people before whom one should bow down.
Jane smiled. "'Miss' is quite sufficient, Simpson," she said; and swept
towards the library.
Garth heard her enter, and close the door; and his quick ear caught the
rustle of a train.
"Hullo, Miss Gray," he said. "Packed your uniform?"
"Yes," said Jane. "I told you I was packing."
She came slowly across the room, and stood on the hearth-rug looking
down at him. He was in full evening-dress; just as at Shenstone on that
memorable night; and, as he sat well back in his deep arm-chair, one
knee crossed over the other, she saw the crimson line of his favourite
silk socks.
Jane stood looking down upon him. Her hour had come at last. But even
now she must, for his sake, be careful and patient.
"I did not hear the song," she said.
"No," replied Garth. "At first, I forgot. And when I remembered, I had
been thinking of other things, and somehow--ah, Miss Gray! I cannot
sing to-night. My soul is dumb with longing."
"I know," said Jane, gently; "and I am going to sing to you."
A faint look of surprise crossed Garth's face. "Do you sing?" he asked.
"Then why have you not sung before?"
"When I arrived," said Jane, "Dr. Rob asked me whether I played. I
said: 'A little.' Thereupon he concluded I sang a little, too; and he
forbade me, most peremptorily, either to play a little; or sing a
little, to you. He said he did not want you driven altogether mad."
Garth burst out laughing.
"How like old Robbie," he said. "And, in spite of his injunctions, are
you going to take the risk, and 'sing a little,' to me, to-night?"
"No," said Jane. "I take no risks. I am going to sing you one song.
Here is the purple cord, at your right hand. There is nothing between
you and the piano; and you are facing towards it. If you want to stop
me--you can come."
She walked to the instrument, and sat down.
Over the top of the grand piano, she could see him, leaning back in his
chair; a slightly amused smile playing about his lips. He was evidently
still enjoying the humour of Dr. Rob's prohibition.
The Rosary has but one opening chord. She struck it; her eyes upon his
face. She saw him sit up, instantly; a look of surprise, expectation,
bewilderment, gathering there.
Then she began to sing. The deep rich voice, low and vibrant, as the
softest tone of 'cello, thrilled into the startled silence.
"The hours I spent with thee, dear heart,
Are as a string of pearls to me;
I count them over, ev'ry one apart,
My rosary,--my rosary.
Each hour a pearl--"
Jane got no further.
Garth had risen. He spoke no word; but he was coming blindly over to
the piano. She turned on the music-stool, her arms held out to receive
him. Now he had found the woodwork. His hand crashed down upon the
bass. Now he had found her. He was on his knees, his arms around her.
Hers enveloped him--, yearning, tender, hungry with the repressed
longing of all those hard weeks.
He lifted his sightless face to hers, for one moment. "You?" he said.
"YOU? You--all the time?"
Then he hid his face in the soft lace at her breast.
"Oh, my boy, my darling!" said Jane, tenderly; holding the dear head
close. "Yes; I, all the time; all the time near him, in his loss and
pain. Could I have stopped away? But, oh, Garth! What it is, at last to
hold you, and touch you, and feel you here! ... Yes, it is I. Oh, my
beloved, are you not quite sure? Who else could hold you thus? ...
Take care, my darling! Come over to the couch, just here; and sit
beside me."
Garth rose, and raised her, without loosing her; and she guided herself
and him to a safer seat close by. But there again he flung himself upon
his knees, and held her; his arms around her waist; his face hidden in
the shelter of her bosom.
"Ah,--darling, darling," said Jane softly, and her hands stole up
behind his head, with a touch of unspeakable protective tenderness; "it
has been so sweet to wait upon my boy; and help him in his darkness;
and shield him from unnecessary pain; and be always there, to meet his
every need. But I could not come myself--until he knew; and understood;
and had forgiven--no, not 'forgiven'; understood, and yet still LOVED.
For he does now understand? And he does forgive? ... Oh, Garth! ...
Oh--hush, my darling! ... You frighten me! ... No, I will never
leave you; never, never! ... Oh, can't you understand, my beloved? ...
Then I must tell you more plainly. Darling,--do be still, and
listen. Just for a few days we must be as we have been; only my boy
will know it is I who am near him. Aunt 'Gina is coming this evening.
She will be here in half an hour. Then, as soon as possible we will get
a special license; and we will be married, Garth; and then--" Jane
paused; and the man who knelt beside her, held his breath to
listen--"and then," continued Jane in a low tender voice, which
gathered in depth of sacred mystery, yet did not falter--"then it will
be my highest joy, to be always with my husband, night and day."
A long sweet silence. The tempest of emotion in her arms was hushed to
rest. The eternal voice of perfect love had whispered: "Peace, be
still"; and there was a great calm.
At last Garth lifted his head. "Always? Always together?" he said. "Ah,
that will be 'perpetual light!'"
* * * * *
When Simpson, pale with importance, flung open the library door, and
announced: "Her Grace, the Duchess of Meldrum," Jane was seated at the
piano, playing soft dreamy chords; and a slim young man, in evening
dress, advanced with eager hospitality to greet his guest.
The duchess either did not see, or chose to ignore the guiding cord.
She took his outstretched hand warmly in both her own.
"Goodness gracious, my dear Dal! How you surprise me! I expected to
find you blind! And here you are striding about, just your old handsome
self!"
"Dear Duchess," said Garth, and stooping, kissed the kind old hands
still holding his; "I cannot see you, I am sorry to say; but I don't
feel very blind to-night. My darkness has been lightened by a joy
beyond expression."
"Oh ho! So that's the way the land lies! Now which are you going to
marry? The nurse,--who, I gather, is a most respectable young person,
and highly recommended; or that hussy, Jane; who, without the smallest
compunction, orders her poor aunt from one end of the kingdom to the
other, to suit her own convenience?"
Jane came over from the piano, and slipped her hand through her lover's
arm.
"Dear Aunt 'Gina," she said; "you know you loved coming; because you
enjoy a mystery, and like being a dear old 'deus ex machina,' at the
right moment. And he is going to marry them both; because they both
love him far too dearly ever to leave him again; and he seems to think
he cannot do without either."
The duchess looked at the two radiant faces; one sightless; the other,
with glad proud eyes for both; and her own filled with tears.
"Hoity-toity!" she said. "Are we in Salt Lake City? Well, we always
thought one girl would not do for Dal; he would need the combined
perfections of several; and he appears to think he has found them. God
bless you both, you absurdly happy people; and I will bless you, too;
but not until I have dined. Now, ring for that very nervous person,
with side-whiskers; and tell him I want my maid, and my room, and I
want to know where they have put my toucan. I had to bring him, Jane.
He is so LOVING, dear bird! I knew you would think him in the way; but
I really could not leave him behind."