"Grand National Hotel, Jonesville.
"July 23rd.
"MY DEAR GERALDINE,
"You will believe that this letter from poor Lydia made Fernan telegraphat once to her, and hurry off as soon as we could reach the train. Wefound things quite as bad or worse than we expected. The poor childrenwere living in two rooms in a wretched little house of an Irish collier,who with his wife happily has been very kind to them, and says thatnothing could surpass their goodness to that poor mother of theirs, who,she tells me, 'made a real Christian end' at last. I am sure she hadneed to do so.
"The burial was happily over, conducted by the French priest, as thewoman was a Roman Catholic to the last. Gerald was sitting up by thewindow, so changed that we should not have known him, except for thewonderful likeness to Felix that has come upon him. It seems that hehad not only all the writing of that horrid paper to do, but all thecompositor's work, or whatever you call it. The people put upon him whenthey saw how well he could do it, and he could not refuse because hismother needed comforts, and he durst not get thrown out of employment.He went on, first with aching back, then his legs got stiff andstaggering, but still he went on, and now it has gone into his hands; hecannot hold a pen, and can hardly lift a tea-cup. But he is so cheerful,almost merry. The doctor says it is a paralytic affection, and thatoverwork has developed the former disease from the old injury to thespine, which seemed to have passed off, and there is intermittent feverabout him too, a not uncommon thing in these low-lying lake districts.We have moved him to this Grand National Hotel, a big, half-inhabitedplace, but better than the MacMahons' house, though the good woman criedover him and Lydia at their farewells, and said she never should seesuch a young gentleman and lady again with hearts so like ould Ireland.She would hardly take the money that Fernan offered her; she said theyhad brought a blessing on her house with their tender, loving ways.
"Fernan is gone to Milwaukee to get further advice and more comforts forGerald, and we mean, as soon as he can be moved, to take him home withus, since the air of the Rockies will revive him if anything will. Thisplace is fearfully hot and oppressive; the bay seems to shut out airfrom Lake Erie, and I cannot bear to think what that poor boy must havegone through in that close little den, with the printing-press hummingand stamping away close to him; but he says it is his native element,and that when he is better he must go to Fiddler's Ranch. He sends hislove, and fears that you have missed his letters, but he could hardlywrite them, and thought Lydia might alarm you. He is a very dear boy,and I do hope we make him comfortable; he is so thankful for the littlewe can do for him, and so patient. He tells me to give special love toFrancie, and say he is glad that Mona's game of chess was played outwith a good substitute for Ferdinand. These are his words, which nodoubt she will understand. We think of moving next week, but muchdepends on the doctor's verdict. My love too to the dear Francie; shewill be a great lady, quite beyond our sphere. Perhaps she may be ableto give Emily some amusements, though I fear they will only make hermore discontented with our humdrum ways. I never thought hospital workwould suit her. Gerald says there is nothing like trying one's theories,and that having to exaggerate his own has made him sick of a good dealof them, though not of all. Poor dear boy, I hope he will live to showthe benefits he says he has derived from this sad time. It shall notbe for want of anything we can do. He is as near our hearts as ever hisdear father was, and Lydia is a dear little girl.
"Your ever affectionate cousin,
"MARY ALDA TRAVIS UNDERWOOD."
It was a great shock, though mitigated by hearing that Gerald was insuch hands as those of his first friend, and kind Marilda; but therewas great surprise at no notice being taken of the tidings that securedGerald's position. John Harewood had telegraphed them, but it only nowfully broke on him that he ought to have sent them to Jerry Wood insteadof Gerald Underwood, so that Italian telegrams were not to blame.
On one thing Clement ventured, being nearly certain that the reaction ofGerald's mind would not include the preventing of all Penbeacon works.He encouraged young Bramshaw to set about the plans so as to make thewashings as innocuous as possible, being persuaded that this was theonly way to prevent more obnoxious erections on ground just beyond.Moreover, this gave the lovers hope, and Alda had, under Clement'spersuasion and rebukes, withdrawn her opposition to the engagement, sothat Sophy was free to wander about Penbeacon with her Philip, and helpto set up his theodolite, and hold the end of his measuring-tape.
Her mother could not well stand out on the score of unequal birth, whenMr. Ferdinand Brown, whose father had swept out the office, came downand was accepted with calm civility, it could not be called delight,even by Emilia.
But he was a worthy young man, and well educated, and it was for hissake that Clement and Geraldine had stayed on at the Priory, giving theHarewoods and their curates holidays in turn; though even this amount ofwork was enough to leave with Clement a dread conviction that his fullshare of St. Matthew's would be fatal to him, insomuch that he hadwritten to the patron, the Bishop of Albertstown, seriously to proposeresignation.
Fresh letters arrived from America, the first slightly more cheery, butthe next was dated from Violinia, to the general surprise, and it wasvery short, from Sir Ferdinand.
"DEAR CLEMENT,
"We have the telegram, a relief to the poor lad's mind, but he hasnot spoken much since. It came just as we were starting in an invalidPullman, fitted with every comfort; but the jars of these lines areunavoidable and unspeakable, and he suffered so terribly, as well asso patiently, that we had to give up our intention of taking him toUnderwood. The one thing he begged for was that we would take him toFiddler's Ranch. You know there is a mission-station here, so we havehim in the clergyman's house, and the place is so advanced that he hasevery comfort. But I doubt whether the dear boy will ever move again. Heis perfectly helpless, but his brain quite clear, and his spirits good.
"Ever yours,
"F. A. TRAVIS UNDERWOOD."
There followed a long letter, dictated by Gerald himself, and partlywritten by Lida, partly by Marilda, at several different times.
"DEAREST, MOST DEAREST CHERIE, AND ALL--
"I should like to be able to sign my name to my thanks to all, if onlyto feel that I have a name, and one so honoured, but these fingersof mine will not obey me, so you must take the will for the deed, andbelieve that you have made me very happy, and completed all I couldwish. I fear you never will believe how jolly it is to lie here, thepain all gone, since having done with that terrific train, and the threetenderest, most watchful of slaves always round me, while my Cherie isspared the sight of the wreck.--(L.)
"You know that good old Fernan established a missionary station here,building a church, and getting the ground consecrated where my fatherlies. I can just see the top of the cross, and there he promises thatI shall lie. You will be able to put my name in the cloister under myfather's, as no impostor.
"Don't grieve, my Cherie, it is best as it is; my brains were full ofmore notions than you ever quite guessed, and of which I have seen theseamy side out here, though there is much that I should feel bound towork out, and that might have grieved you. I was not tough enough forthe discipline that was needed to strike the balance. (He is thinkingaloud, dear fellow.--M. A.) I am afraid I have often vexed you in mycrudeness and conceit, but I know you forgive. I am very thankful forthis year, and for the way in which my poor mother was given intomy hands at last. Fernan has helped me to make a short will, to saveconfusion and difficulty.
"I have left everything to Clement, knowing that you and he will providefor all. Fernan and Marilda will care for Lida. (That we will.--M. A.)I cannot leave her to be a tax on Vale Leston. Give my books and MSS. toDolores, and please be kind to her. My violin, which Fernan redeemed forme, the eponym (How do you spell it?--M. A.), by the way, of this place,my father's own fiddle, give to Lance for his pretty Ariel; Anna, mygood sister, should have my music, which will be a memory of happyevenings. Emmie may like the
portfolio of drawings that I made for themission-house; dear old Sibby the photograph in my room of the 'EcceHomo.' I have it in my eye now.--(M. A.)
"Everything is such a comfort, Fernan and Marilda are the best of nursesand helpers, and I mourn for the folly that chaffed about them andboredom. Tell Emmie so. Fernan has made this place a little oasis roundmy father's grave, and his parson, who has a mission among the remainsof the Sioux, is with me every other day, and does all that Clementcould desire for me. So do--do believe that it is all for the best, dearpeople.--(L.)
"One thing good is, that I shall not bring any bad blood into theUnderwood inheritance. By the bye, tell them--(Continued by Marilda)Mr. Gracchus Van ------ suddenly arrived here, greatly shocked at Gerald'sstate, and actually wanting to marry Lydia on the spot--which of courseshe declined. But Fernan was pleased with him, and he told him he hadnever met any one to hold a candle to 'Jerry Wood,' so 'smart' and'chipper,' as he saw at first, and then cheerful, good-humoured, andkindly, whatever happened. None of your Britisher's airs, but ready tomake the best of any fixings. I don't think dear Gerald meant me to tellall this, but think of the difference from the fastidious fine gentlemanhe used to be! He is dozing now, I fear he is getting weaker; but he isever so sweet and good, and I quite long to beg his pardon for havingcalled him your spoilt boy. Mr. Fraser, the clergyman here, is very muchstruck with him, and Fernan remembers the time when he baptized him ashe lay unconscious. Dear Cherry, it will grieve you, but I think therewill be comfort in the grief.
"Your affectionate cousin,
"M. A. T. U."
There were long letters to Dolores, dictated to Lida--all in the samespirit. One of them said, "Go bravely on, my Dolores; though we do notlive together in our bicycle-roving castles. You will do good work ifyou uphold the glory of God and the improvement of man, all throughcreation and science. I should like to talk it over with you. Thingsare plainer to me than in the days of my inexperience and cocksureness.Short as the time was, in months, it showed me much more, especially myown inefficiency to deal with the great problems of these times, perhapsof all times. Remember this, but go on--if we do but put grains of sandinto the great Edifice."
More was written, but these were the most memorable extracts, before theletter that told that something like a fresh stroke had come, and takenaway the power of distinct speech, then that the throat had failed, andthere was only one foreboding more to be told, and soon realized. Theyoung ardent spirit, trained by so short a discipline, had passed awayin peace. And they laid him beside his father, whose better spirit hehad unconsciously evoked, and whom he had loved so deeply. The doctorssaid that the real cause of his death had been the Indian bullet,inflicting injury on the spine, which the elasticity of youth had forthe time overcome, but which manifested itself again under overstrain.Ferdinand, when he awoke the child back to life, had given him years notspent in vain for himself or for others.
It would have been utter desolation to the little sister save for themotherly tenderness of Marilda, who took her to the home in the RockyMountains, and would fain have adopted her, but that Lida, actingperhaps on advice from her brother, only begged to be so educated as tofit her to be independent, and to be given a start in life. It wouldbe shown in a year or two whether her vocation should be musical orscholastic.
Gerald had his meed of tears at home, but not bitter ones. Nay, thosethat had the most quality of bitterness were Emilia's, shed in secretlest interpretations should be put on those that had the quality ofremorse, as she recollected the high aspirations that had ended sodifferently in the two cousins.
Dolores dried hers, to feel a consecration on her studies and herlabours as she grew forward to the fulfilment of her purpose of being aleading woman in the instruction and formation of young minds, workingall the better for the inspiriting words and example, and the moregently and sympathizingly for the love that was laid up in her heart.
She and his "Cherie" came to have a great affection and understandingof each other, and discussed what Dolores called "ethics" with warminterest, the elder lady bringing the old and sacred lights to bear onthe newer theories.
Clement was the undoubted owner of Vale Leston, and the John Harewoodshad decided on leaving the Priory. Just at the same time, when theacceptance of Clement's resignation of St. Matthew's had arrived,William Harewood was offered a canonry at Minsterham, with the headshipof the theological college. The canonry had been the summit of hisambition when a boy, and there was no one fitter than he for the care ofa theological college. He was pre-eminently a scholar, and his fifteenyears of parish experience made good preparation for training youngclergy.
So Clement could decide on presenting himself to the living of ValeLeston, with a staff of curates, and Geraldine to be his home sister,making the Priory a resting-place for overworked people, whether clergy,governesses, or poor, or mission-folk at home. It was a trust to be keptfor Lancelot and his boy, who would make the summer home of the familythere, to Dr. May's great content. It was a peaceful home, and to everyone's surprise, Alda decided to remain at hand, chiefly to keep herboy under his uncle's influence, which thus far was keeping him well inhand, and as he would go to a public school with little Felix, might beprolonged.
It was a comfort and encouragement to feel that hereditary dangers andtemperament could be subdued and conquered in Gerald; and if the sins ofparents had their consequence in the children, the scourge might becomea palm. When the commemorative brass in the cloister was to be put up,Geraldine said--
"I should like to put 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the piece thatwas lost.'"
"He never was lost."
"Oh no, no, my dear boy. But his work was so like the finding thestained, tarnished piece of silver, cast aside, defaced, dust-marked,and by simple duty and affection bringing her back."
"I see! Let us have the inscription in Greek. Then none can apply itto himself! It was a wonderful work, and it is strange that havingfulfilled it, he who brought the child from his father's arms should layhim to his rest beside his father."
THE END
The Long Vacation Page 36
