The Wide, Wide World

CHAPTER XXXIX

Now is the pleasant time,
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields
To the night-warbling bird; that now awake,
Tunes sweetest her love-laboured song; now reigns
Full orbed the moon, and with more pleasing light
Shadowy, sets off the face of things.

    – Milton

When Ellen came out of Alice's room again it was late in the afternoon. The sun was so low that the shadow of the house had crossed the narrow lawn and mounted up near to the top of the trees; but on them he was still shining brightly, and on the broad landscape beyond, which lay open to view through the gap in the trees. The glass door was open; the sweet summer air and the sound of birds and insects and fluttering leaves floated into the room, making the stillness musical. On the threshold pussy sat crouched, with his fore feet doubled under his breast, watching with intense gravity the operations of Margery, who was setting the table on the lawn just before his eyes. Alice was paring peaches.

"Oh, we are going to have tea out of doors, aren't we?" said Ellen, "I'm very glad. What a lovely evening, isn't it? Just look at pussy, will you, Alice? don't you believe he knows what Margery is doing? Why didn't you call me to go along with you after peaches?"

"I thought you were doing the very best thing you possibly could, Ellie, my dear. How do you do?"

"Oh, nicely now? Where's Mr. John? I hope he won't ask for my last drawing to-night, I want to fix the top of that tree before he sees it."

"Fix the top of your tree, you little Yankee!" said Alice; "what do you think John would say to that! unfix it, you mean; it is too stiff already, isn't it?"

"Well, what shall I say?" said Ellen, laughing. "I am sorry that is Yankee, for I suppose one must speak English. I want to do something to my tree, then. Where is he, Alice?"

"He is gone down to Mr. Van Brunt's to see how he is, and to speak to Miss Fortune about you on his way back."

"Oh how kind of him! he's very good; that is just what I want to know; but I am sorry, after this long ride – "

"He don't mind that, Ellie. He'll be home presently."

"How nice those peaches look; they are as good as strawberries, don't you think so? better, I don't know which is the best; but Mr. John likes these best, don't he? Now you've done; shall I set them on the table? and here's a pitcher of splendid cream, Alice!"

"You had better not tell John so, or he will make you define splendid."

John came back in good time, and brought word that Mr. Van Brunt was doing very well, so far as could be known; also, that Miss Fortune consented to Ellen's remaining where she was. He wisely did not say, however, that her consent had been slow to gain till he had hinted at his readiness to provide a substitute for Ellen's services; on which Miss Fortune had instantly declared that she did not want her, and she might stay as long as she pleased. This was all that was needed to complete Ellen's felicity.

"Wasn't your poor horse too tired to go out again this afternoon, Mr. John?"

"I did not ride him, Ellie; I took yours."

"The Brownie! did you? I'm very glad! How did you like him? But perhaps he was tired a little, and you couldn't tell so well to-day."

"He was not tired with any work you had given him, Ellie; perhaps he may be a little now."

"Why?" said Ellen, somewhat alarmed.

"I have been trying him; and instead of going quietly along the road we have been taking some of the fences in our way. As I intend practising you at the bar, I wished to make sure in the first place that he knew his lesson."

"Well, how did he do?"

"Perfectly well; I believe he is a good little fellow. I wanted to satisfy myself if he was fit to be trusted with you, and I rather think Mr. Marshman has taken care of that."

The whole wall of trees was in shadow when the little family sat down to table; but there was still the sunlit picture behind; and there was another kind of sunshine in every face at the table. Quietly happy the whole four, or at least the whole three, were; first, in being together; after that, in all things besides. Never was tea so refreshing, or bread and butter so sweet, or the song of birds so delightsome. When the birds had gone to their nests, the cricket and grasshopper and tree toad and katy-did, and nameless other songsters, kept up a concert – nature's own, in delicious harmony with woods and flowers, and summer breezes and evening light. Ellen's cup of enjoyment was running over. From one beautiful thing to another her eye wandered, from one joy to another her thoughts went, till her heart full fixed on the God who had made and given them all, and that Redeemer whose blood had been their purchase money. From the dear friends beside her, the best-loved she had in the world, she thought of the one dearer yet, from whom death had separated her, yet living still, and to whom death would restore her, thanks to Him who had burst the bonds of death and broken the gates of the grave, and made a way for His ransomed to pass over. And the thought of Him was the joyfullest of all!

"You look happy, Ellie," said her adopted brother.

"So I am," said Ellen, smiling a very bright smile.

"What are you thinking about?"

But John saw it would not do to press his question.

"You remind me," said he, "of some old fairy story that my childish ears received, in which the fountains of the sweet and bitter waters of life were said to stand very near each other, and to mingle their streams but a little way from their source. Your tears and smiles seem to be brothers and sisters; whenever we see one we may be sure the other is not far off."

"My dear Jack," said Alice, laughing, "what an unhappy simile! Are brothers and sisters always found like that?"

"I wish they were," said John, sighing and smiling; "but my last words had nothing to do with my simile as you call it."

When tea was over, and Margery had withdrawn the things and taken away the table, they still lingered in their places. It was far too pleasant to go in. Mr. Humphreys moved his chair to the side of the house, and throwing a handkerchief over his head to defend him from the mosquitoes, a few of which were buzzing about, he either listened, meditated, or slept; most probably one of the two latter; for the conversation was not very loud nor very lively; it was happiness enough merely to breathe so near each other. The sun left the distant fields and hills; soft twilight stole through the woods, down the gap, and over the plain; the grass lost its green; the wall of trees grew dark and dusky; and very faint and dim showed the picture that was so bright a little while ago. As they sat quite silent, listening to what nature had to say to them, or letting fancy and memory take their way, the silence was broken – hardly broken – by the distinct far-off cry of a whip-poor-will. Alice grasped her brother's arm, and they remained motionless, while it came nearer, nearer – then quite near – with its clear, wild, shrill, melancholy note sounding close by them again and again, strangely, plaintively; then leaving the lawn, it was heard further and further off, till the last faint "whip-poor-will," in the far distance, ended its pretty interlude. It was almost too dark to read faces, but the eyes of the brother and sister had sought each other and remained fixed till the bird was out of hearing; then Alice's hand was removed to his, and her head found its old place on her brother's shoulder.

"Sometimes, John," said Alice, "I am afraid I have one tie too strong to this world. I cannot bear, as I ought, to have you away from me."

Her brother's lips were instantly pressed to her forehead.

"I may say to you, Alice, as Colonel Gardiner said to his wife, 'We have an eternity to spend together!'"

"I wonder," said Alice, after a pause, "how those can bear to love and be loved, whose affection can see nothing but a blank beyond the grave."

"Few people, I believe," said her brother, "would come exactly under that description; most flatter themselves with a vague hope of reunion after death."

"But that is a miserable hope – very different from ours."

"Very different indeed! and miserable; for it can only deceive; but ours is sure. 'Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him.'"

"Precious!" said Alice. "How exactly fitted to every want and mood of the mind are the sweet Bible words."

"Well!" said Mr. Humphreys, rousing himself, "I am going in! These mosquitoes have half eaten me up. Are you going to sit there all night?"

"We are thinking of it, papa," said Alice cheerfully.

He went in, and was heard calling Margery for a light.

They had better lights on the lawn. The stars began to peep out through the soft blue, and as the blue grew deeper they came out more and brighter, till all heaven was hung with lamps. But that was not all. In the eastern horizon, just above the low hills that bordered the far side of the plain, a white light, spreading and growing and brightening, promised the moon, and promised that she would rise very splendid; and even before she came began to throw a faint lustre over the landscape. All eyes were fastened, and exclamations burst, as the first silver edge showed itself, and the moon rapidly rising looked on them with her whole broad bright face; lighting up not only their faces and figures but the wide country view that was spread out below, and touching most beautifully the trees in the edge of the gap, and faintly the lawn; while the wall of wood stood in deeper and blacker shadow than ever.

"Isn't that beautiful!" said Ellen.

"Come round here, Ellie," said John. "Alice may have you all the rest of the year, but when I am at home you belong to me. What was your little head busied upon a while ago?"

"When?" said Ellen.