CHAPTER XI
GARTH FINDS THE CROSS
The village church on the green was bathed in sunshine as Jane emergedfrom the cool shade of the park. The clock proclaimed the hourhalf-past eleven, and Jane did not hasten, knowing she was not expecteduntil twelve. The windows of the church were open, and the massiveoaken doors stood ajar.
Jane paused beneath the ivy-covered porch and stood listening. Thetones of the organ reached her as from an immense distance, and yetwith an all-pervading nearness. The sound was disassociated from handsand feet. The organ seemed breathing, and its breath was music.
Jane pushed the heavy door further open, and even at that moment itoccurred to her that the freckled boy with a red head, and Garth's slimproportions, had evidently passed easily through an aperture whichrefused ingress to her more massive figure. She pushed the door furtheropen, and went in.
Instantly a stillness entered into her soul. The sense of unseenpresences, often so strongly felt on entering an empty church alone,the impress left upon old walls and rafters by the worshipping minds ofcenturies, hushed the insistent beating of her own perplexity, and fora few moments she forgot the errand which brought her there, and bowedher head in unison with the worship of ages.
Garth was playing the "Veni, Creator Spiritus" to Attwood's perfectsetting; and, as Jane walked noiselessly up to the chancel, he began tosing the words of the second verse. He sang them softly, but hisbeautifully modulated barytone carried well, and every syllable reachedher.
"Enable with perpetual light The dulness of our blinded sight; Anoint and cheer our soiled face With the abundance of Thy grace; Keep far our foes; give peace at home; Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come."
Then the organ swelled into full power, pealing out the theme of thelast verse without its words, and allowing those he had sung to repeatthemselves over and over in Jane's mind: "Where Thou art Guide, no illcan come." Had she not prayed for guidance? Then surely all would bewell.
She paused at the entrance to the chancel. Garth had returned to thesecond verse, and was singing again, to a waldflute accompaniment,"Enable with perpetual light--."
Jane seated herself in one of the old oak stalls and looked around her.The brilliant sunshine from without entered through the stained-glasswindows, mellowed into golden beams of soft amber light, with here andthere a shaft of crimson. What a beautiful expression--perpetual light!As Garth sang it, each syllable seemed to pierce the silence like a rayof purest sunlight. "The dulness of--" Jane could just see the top ofhis dark head over the heavy brocade of the organ curtain. She dreadedthe moment when he should turn, and those vivid eyes should catch sightof her--"our blinded sight." How would he take what she must say? Wouldshe have strength to come through a long hard scene? Would he betragically heart-broken?--"Anoint and cheer our soiled face"--Would heargue, and insist, and override her judgment?--"With the abundance ofThy grace"--Could she oppose his fierce strength, if he chose to exertit? Would they either of them come through so hard a time withoutwounding each other terribly?--"Keep far our foes; give peace athome"--Oh! what could she say? What would he say? How should sheanswer? What reason could she give for her refusal which Garth wouldever take as final?--"Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come."
And then, after a few soft, impromptu chords; the theme changed.
Jane's heart stood still. Garth was playing "The Rosary." He did notsing it; but the soft insistence of the organ pipes seemed to press thewords into the air, as no voice could have done. Memory's pearls, inall the purity of their gleaming preciousness, were counted one by oneby the flute and dulciana; and the sadder tones of the waldfluteproclaimed the finding of the cross. It all held a new meaning forJane, who looked helplessly round, as if seeking some way of escapefrom the sad sweetness of sound which filled the little church.
Suddenly it ceased. Garth stood up, turned, and saw her. The glory of agreat joy leaped into his face.
"All right, Jimmy," he said; "that will do for this morning. And hereis a bright sixpence, because you have managed the blowing so well.Hullo! It's a shilling! Never mind. You shall have it because it issuch a glorious day. There never was such a day, Jimmy; and I want youto be happy also. Now run off quickly, and shut the church door behindyou, my boy."
Ah! how his voice, with its ring of buoyant gladness, shook her soul.
The red-headed boy, rather grubby, with a whole pepper-pot of freckles,but a beaming face of pleasure, came out from behind the organ,clattered down a side aisle; dropped his shilling on the way and had tofind it; but at last went out, the heavy door closing behind him with aresounding clang.
Garth had remained standing beside the organ, quite motionless, withoutlooking at Jane, and now that they were absolutely alone in the church,he still stood and waited a few moments. To Jane those moments seemeddays, weeks, years, an eternity. Then he came out into the centre ofthe chancel, his head erect, his eyes shining, his whole bearing thatof a conqueror sure of his victory. He walked down to the quaintlycarved oaken screen and, passing beneath it, stood at the step. Then hesigned to Jane to come and stand beside him.
"Here, dearest," he said; "let it be here."
Jane came to him, and for a moment they stood together, looking up thechancel. It was darker than the rest of the church, being lighted onlyby three narrow stained-glass windows, gems of colour and ofsignificance. The centre window, immediately over the communion table,represented the Saviour of the world, dying upon the cross. They gazedat it in reverent silence. Then Garth turned to Jane.
"My beloved," he said, "it is a sacred Presence and a sacred place. Butno place could be too sacred for that which we have to say to eachother, and the Holy Presence, in which we both believe, is here tobless and ratify it. I am waiting for your answer."
Jane cleared her throat and put her trembling hands into the largepockets of her tweed coat.
"Dal," she said; "my answer is a question. How old are you?"
She felt his start of intense surprise. She saw the light of expectantjoy fade from his face. But he replied, after only a momentaryhesitation: "I thought you knew, dearest. I am twenty-seven."
"Well," said Jane slowly and deliberately, "I am thirty; and I lookthirty-five, and feel forty. You are twenty-seven, Dal, and you looknineteen, and often feel nine. I have been thinking it over, and--youknow--I cannot marry a mere boy."
Silence--absolute.
In sheer terror Jane forced herself to look at him. He was white to thelips. His face was very stern and calm--a strange, stony calmness.There was not much youth in it just then. "ANOINT AND CHEER OUR SOILEDFACE"--The silent church seemed to wail the words in bewildered agony.
At last he spoke. "I had not thought of myself," he said slowly. "Icannot explain how it comes to pass, but I have not thought of myselfat all, since my mind has been full of you. Therefore I had notrealised how little there is in me that you could care for. I believedyou had felt as I did, that we were--just each other's." For a momenthe put out his hand as if he would have touched her. Then it droppedheavily to his side. "You are quite right," he said. "You could notmarry any one whom you consider a mere boy."
He turned from her and faced up the chancel. For the space of a longsilent minute he looked at the window over the holy table, where hungthe suffering Christ. Then he bowed his head. "I accept the cross," hesaid, and, turning, walked quietly down the aisle. The church dooropened, closed behind him with a heavy clang, and Jane was alone.
She stumbled back to the seat she had left, and fell upon her knees.
"O, my God," she cried, "send him back to me, oh, send him back! ...Oh, Garth! It is I who am plain and unattractive and unworthy, not you.Oh, Garth--come back! come back! come back! ... I will trust and notbe afraid ... Oh, my own Dear--come back!"
She listened, with straining ears. She waited, until every nerve of herbody ached with suspense. She decided what she would say when the heavydoor reopened and she saw Garth standing in a shaft of sunlight. Shetried to
remember the VENI, but the hollow clang of the door hadsilenced even memory's echo of that haunting music. So she waitedsilently, and as she waited the silence grew and seemed to enclose herwithin cruel, relentless walls which opened only to allow her glimpsesinto the vista of future lonely years. Just once more she broke thatsilence. "Oh, darling, come back! I WILL RISK IT," she said. But nostep drew near, and, kneeling with her face buried in her claspedhands, Jane suddenly realised that Garth Dalmain had accepted herdecision as final and irrevocable, and would not return.
How long she knelt there after realising this, she never knew. But atlast comfort came to her. She felt she had done right. A few hours ofpresent anguish were better than years of future disillusion. Her ownlife would be sadly empty, and losing this newly found joy was costingher more than she had expected; but she honestly believed "she had donerightly towards him, and what did her own pain matter?" Thus comfortcame to Jane.
At last she rose and passed out of the silent church into the breezysunshine.
Near the park gates a little knot of excited boys were preparing to flya kite. Jimmy, the hero of the hour, the centre of attraction, provedto be the proud possessor of this new kite. Jimmy was finding the dayglorious indeed, and was being happy. "Happy ALSO," Garth had said. AndJane's eyes filled with tears, as she remembered the word and the tonein which it was spoken.
"There goes my poor boy's shilling," she said to herself sadly, as thekite mounted and soared above the common; "but, alas, where is his joy?"
As she passed up the avenue a dog-cart was driven swiftly down it.Garth Dalmain drove it; behind him a groom and a portmanteau. He liftedhis hat as he passed her, but looked straight before him. In a momenthe was gone. Had Jane wanted to stop him she could not have done so.But she did not want to stop him. She felt absolutely satisfied thatshe had done the right thing, and done it at greater cost to herselfthan to him. He would eventually--ah, perhaps before so very long--findanother to be to him all, and more than all, he had believed she couldbe. But she? The dull ache at her bosom reminded her of her own wordsthe night before, whispered in the secret of her chamber to him who,alas, was not there to hear: "Whatever the future brings for you andme, no other face will ever be hidden here." And, in this first hour ofthe coming lonely years, she knew them to be true.
In the hall she met Pauline Lister.
"Is that you, Miss Champion?" said Pauline. "Well now, have you heardof Mr. Dalmain? He has had to go to town unexpectedly, on the 1.15train; and aunt has dropped her false teeth on her marble wash-standand must get to the dentist right away. So we go to town on the 2.30.It's an uncertain world. It complicates one's plans, when they have todepend on other people's teeth. But I would sooner break false teeththan true hearts, any day. One can get the former mended, but I guessno one can mend the latter. We are lunching early in our rooms; so Iwish you good-by, Miss Champion."
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