and was really a better man. He had fewer worries and fewer
temptations, and though he was not what might be called "a shining
light" either in the church or in the world, it was the opinion of his
brethren and townsmen that his troubles had been blessed to him, and
that he was getting along--not very fast, but in the right direction.
But that which did most for Jacob in his time of trouble was the
knowledge of Mr Fleming's forgiveness and friendship. It is not likely
that he had ever acknowledged, even to himself, that he had sinned
against him through his son more than others had done, but a sense of
the old man's silent anger had always been in him, and had been painful
and humiliating to him--how painful he knew by the sense of relief he
experienced whenever they came in contact afterward. He no longer
stepped aside when he saw him approaching, so that the neighbours should
not remark about the old man's steadily averted face. They had never
much to say to each other, but they met and exchanged kindly greetings
as other men did, and all Gershom saw the change that had come over them
both. Even his cousin Betsey grew friendly and frank in her intercourse
with him and his wife, and that was a change certainly.
Few people ever knew just what had brought about this changed state of
feeling. There was nothing to tell which Jacob cared to repeat. It
would have done no good to bring up the old, sad story again, he well
knew, and he said little about it even to his wife.
As for Mr Fleming--and indeed all the Flemings--the joyful tidings that
the letter brought on that fair September morning were too sacred and
sweet to be discussed much even among themselves. Katie always held
that her grandfather would have forgiven Jacob Holt all the same if the
letter had never come, because there was the Lord's command clear and
plain, "Forgive and ye shall be forgiven," and it must have come to that
at last.
"And, indeed, Davie, it was near at hand before the letter came. The
Lord had touched him. First there was the fear of losing you, and then
the fear of losing grannie, and then the letter came from the son he had
lost so long, and that was the last touch for which the rest had made
him ready. Oh! how good He has been to us! Surely, surely, Davie, we
can never through all our lives forget."
Mrs Fleming thought as Katie did, though they had never spoken together
of the subject. In her innermost heart she had believed--though even to
herself she had hardly put the thought into words--that on the subject
of Jacob Holt's past misdeeds her husband was hardly responsible for his
thoughts. The misery of his son's loss, not for this brief life only,
but forever and ever, as he could not but believe, had taken such full
possession of him as to leave him no power to struggle against the
bitterness which became almost hatred as time went on. If he had died
unforgiving, the Lord would have still received him, she had believed,
and she had striven to content herself with this belief in silence,
feeling how vain were spoken words to him.
"Only a miracle would make him see God's will in this; and I have no
right to ask for that."
No miracle was wrought. The letter came, and was the last touch of the
loving Hand which even at the worst times had wounded but to heal; and
lying with his lips in the dust, but with eyes looking upward, the cloud
parted, and he saw the face of God, and was at peace.
After this there came nothing to trouble these two old people as they
moved softly down the hill together. Grannie was never very strong
again after her long illness, and no longer took the lead in all that
was done in the house--that was Katie's part in life for several years
to come; but she was quite content to rest and to look at other folk
busy with the work which had once been hers, and that does not always
happen in the last days of a life so active and so full as hers had
been.
And what was true of the grandmother was true of the grandfather as
well. He seemed to have no more anxious thoughts about anything. He
did not need to have while Davie stayed at home; but even after Davie
went away, and the management of the farm fell for the most part into
the less skillful hands of the younger brothers, their grandfather "took
things easy," the lads said, and rarely found fault.
And so they had still a peaceful gloaming, these two old people, when
their changeful day of life was drawing to a close. Only it was like
the dawn rather than the gloaming, Katie said, because of the soft
brightness that shone on them both. It was "light at evening time," and
their last days were their best to themselves and to all by whom they
were beloved.
For the last days were days of waiting for the change of which they
spoke often to the bairns so dear, and to one another. Once, as Katie
sat with her grandfather at the pasture-bars on Sabbath afternoon, she
said to him--after many other words had been spoken between them--that
she would like to put that verse on his grave-stone after he was gone:
"At evening time it shall be light."
But her grandfather said:
"Na, na, my lassie! If I have a grave-stone--which matters little--and
if any verse at all be put upon it, let it be this:--
"`Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.'" Then Katie stooped and touched
his hand with her lips, as she had done once long ago, and said softly:
"Yes, grandfather, so it shall be." And so it was.
THE END.