CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN.
Thus 'twas granted me To know he loved me to the depth and height Of such large natures, ever competent With grand horizons, by the land or sea, To love's grand sunrise. Small spheres hold small fires, But he loved largely.
Maud was inexpressibly shocked at her husband's appearance. Neither thetelegrams nor the doctors' notes nor Boldero's description had in thefaintest degree prepared her for what she saw. She had heard of death,and even seen it, but in its gentle, peaceful, unagonised aspect; shehad seen illness, but in its milder mood, as it visits the Europeanhousehold: not the savage, destroying, desolating demon-angel that wavesa sword across the cholera-stricken plain or city in the East. Asickness of a few days, a few hours, shatters the sufferer's frame,blurs out the familiar features, leaves the stalwart man a quiveringskeleton, deadens the sense and clouds the strong mind with a deep,dreadful shadow of oblivion.
And to this stage Sutton had come. Maud, despite all entreaties andwarnings, went straight to her husband's side and let the full horror ofthe scene take possession of her soul. It wrung her very heart to seehim--the man whom, after all, she loved with a passion which, ifsometimes forgotten, was never extinct for an instant. She had loved himat first; she loved him now ten times more than ever. She had wrongedhim, neglected him, dishonoured him--alas, how grievously!--her one hopelay in confession, reconciliation, forgiveness: and he lay there, moredead than alive--speechless, motionless, except when some spasm ofsuffering shook him--and, so far as outward sign showed, unconscious ofher presence. Maud thanked Heaven that she was on the spot to know andsee the worst, and yet it was almost more than she could bear. Her loadof anguish seemed too much for one till now a stranger to sorrow. Againand again some old trait in the haggard, suffering face, a moan of pain,a gesture too slight from weakness to be intelligible to any eye buthers, touched a fresh chord in her heart, broke down her waveringfortitude, and sent her rushing to her room to shed in solitude thetears of sorrow and remorse. Again and again she washed away the uselesstears, nerved herself once more to maintain a courageous exterior, andreturned, with a fortitude which she felt gather strength within her,to the sad task of watching and waiting for the crisis which a few hoursmore must bring.
Let us leave that terrible passage of Maud's life, with its trembling,agonising suspense, its heartfelt vows and prayers, its remorsefultears, its thrilling hopes, its mysterious communings with anotherworld. Let us drop a curtain over that solemn season. Maud will emergefrom it, we may be sure, with a new-born fortitude, patience, loftinessof soul; courage, the child of suffering; calmness, the attribute ofthose who have been close upon despair.
A fortnight later Sutton was lying in the drawing-room, with no othermalady than excessive weakness, and with no other occupation than torecruit his shattered powers. Maud was busied with the composition ofsome appetising beverage, which was, the doctor said, the only kind ofmedicine of which he now stood in need, and which could, in Maud's andher husband's opinion, be properly concocted and administered by no handbut hers. Then the invalid's pillows needed skilful arrangement, for hewas still at the stage when mere lying still is an exertion which seemsto tax every limb and muscle in the aching frame. Maud found anindescribable relief and pleasure in waiting on her husband, and provedherself a nature-taught adept in the kindly art of nursing. Every act,though her husband knew it not, had, to Maud's aching conscience, a sortof penitential devotion about it, and said a hundred things of love andsorrow which as yet found no utterance in spoken words.
'What a model wife!' said Sutton, as he lay watching her movements, ingrateful admiration at her skill and care on his behalf.
'Ah! but,' said Maud, thankful for the opportunity of the confession shewas longing to make, 'I am not a model wife at all, but just everythingthat a model ought not to be.'
'Then,' said Jem gallantly, 'I am for you, and not for the model,whoever drew it.'
'Jem,' she said, with sudden seriousness, 'I want to tell you something,and be forgiven. I meant to do so before, but you have been too poorly.I am afraid it will hurt you. I have been going on very stupidly atElysium, and very wrongly, and doing everything that you would most havedisliked, and that I dislike now--oh! how bitterly!'
Sutton, to Maud's great relief, did not seem in the least surprised orinclined to be serious about the matter. He took her hand and held itwith the kindest caressing manner.
'I have no doubt,' he said, 'that Mrs. Vereker did all she could to getyou into a scrape. It was a shame of me to let you go to her.'
'No,' said Maud, 'it was not her fault at all. The truth is, I have beenflirting with--some one.'
'Some one,' said Sutton, 'has been trying to flirt with you, you mean,and no wonder. Some one showed his good taste at any rate.'
'Yes, but,' said the penitent, 'I flirted with him. I think I must havebeen crazy.'
'You risked your life, dear, to come and be with me. Why look furtherback than that? I cannot.'
'But,' said Maud, her cheeks burning scarlet at the awful confessionwhich conscience compelled her to make, 'that is not all: _I gave him akiss_.'
'Then,' said her husband, 'you gave him a great deal more than hedeserved, whoever he was. Well, now, give me one, and let us say no moreabout it.'
The blinding tears fell fast and hot as Maud bent over her husband'shaggard face and exchanged the sweet pledge of reconciliation,confidence, and love. There was something so generous, sparing anddelicately magnanimous in her husband's ready, uninquiring forgiveness,and his refusal to know more of a matter which it grieved and shamed herto narrate. Maud knew that his was a temperament which jealousy wouldtorture like any Othello's, and that his passion against an offender,had it once forced its way to light, would have been a sort of fury. Shecould perfectly realise to herself her husband doing anything--theworst--to a man who, he thought, had in the slightest degree wrongedhim. He was accustomed to stern deeds and stern sights, and, as any mandoes who has a hundred times seen death face to face and found nothingto dread in it, held life the cheapest of all his treasures. Maud hadfelt an awful misgiving lest he should utter some dreadful, quiet threatat the wrong-doer. As it was, her husband would not even know his nameand treated the whole thing as a mere childish misadventure. It wasindeed an heroic kindness. Her whole nature went out to him inthankfulness and love; she bent her head beside him and hid her face andwept in the fulness of her heart. No wonder his soldiers had learnt toworship him. No word more was spoken, but Sutton had good cause to knowthat the last touch of waywardness, the last fickle mood, the forgetfulmoment, the girlish caprice, were gone for ever--the last spot in herheart that had not been wholly his was carried at last. 'I am thankful,'the surgeon said, 'that he is better: the poor child is ten times morein love with him than ever.'
Then the three friends had a very happy time. It is so pleasant to begetting well; and nursing, too, is a pleasant labour when the invalidis interesting and considerate and well-beloved. Happy the patient whoselot it is to pass from the dreary land of sickness with such sweetcompanionship! Boldero, though the gravity of his loss kept pace in histhoughts with each new-discovered charm in Maud, got himself into anheroic mood, and derived a satisfaction, less blackened with melancholythan he would have conceived possible, from the sight of his friend'sfelicity. At any rate he made himself very pleasant--was alwaysavailable for whatever was wanted of him--submitted, it is probable, toa little delightful tyranny from the woman he adored, and went away atlast leaving almost a little blank behind him.
'How kind and useful he has been!' Maud said, as they watched hiscavalcade winding along the valley; 'and how clever about yourbarley-water! Yes--I certainly like him.'
'Like him!' said Sutton. 'I should think so. He is the best fellow inthe world.'
'Yes,' said his wife, 'all the same there is something pleasant in a_tete-a-tete_; and I don't like anybody taking care of you but me.'
L'ENVOI.
&nb
sp; Joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!
Hope, which catches up the brush as it falls from the narrator's hand,adds yet another scene, in the faint, hazy, indistinct hues of a distanthorizon, to the picture at which we have been looking for awhile.
We are on Aldershot Heath. Troops are marching up from differentdirections; orderlies are galloping wildly on their behests; words ofcommand ring noisily through the air; great masses of red come loomingout of the dust as each regiment tramps solidly along; there is the roarof cannon from the neighbouring hill; the horse artillery goes rattlingby like a hurricane of horses and iron; in front is a long array ofspectators, and in the midst a blaze of uniforms and the carriage wherea gracious Sovereign sits to inspect and compliment the heroes of theday--the men who had served their country well; for there has been asuccessful expedition, led by an Indian General; and the victoriousarmy, with its leader, bearing his honours thick upon him, at its head,is marching past amidst the shouts of a joyful and sympathetic crowd.When Sutton, for it is he, has passed the Royal carriage and made hissalute, he turns his horse and joins the staff who glitter round theirSovereign. Kind words are spoken and a Royal hand adds one more to hislong list of decorations. Presently he makes his way to a group ofladies in a carriage near at hand. There is Felicia, with a sweet,matronly air, her beautiful features none the less fair for the linesthat sorrow had left upon them and some silvery threads among the wavinggold; she sits serene and joyous in the presence of two lovely girls,Sutton's playfellows of old, now, as he tells them, when he wants to bevery polite, the very repetition of their mother. Vernon is in England,at home for his last furlough, and beyond lies, near enough now to be asource of pleasure, not of pain, the prospect of a final settlement athome. Beside Felicia sits Maud, blushing under her husband's honours,but rejoicing that all the world should recognise his claim to homage.As he comes up the smile that she gives him tells us that all is morethan well between them. Suddenly she jumps up with an exclamation, forshe has recognised a familiar face--it is Boldero, who is making his wayto them through the crowd. He brings a blushing lady on his arm, and heis blushing too, and there are introductions and greetings which soundas if his old love-wound had been healed by the only effectual remedy.
Meanwhile the long armed array is flowing steadily past. Maud, who isquite the soldier's wife, criticises and approves. At length the lastregiment has come and gone, the last band has crashed out its music, theRoyal carriage makes a move, the staff gallops away, the crowd ispushing and hurrahing and scattering itself over the wide plain; theshades of evening are gathering over it; the Indian friends drive offmerrily for home; the scene fades--fades and dies away.
Let us leave this party of happy people to themselves--we must be theircompanions no longer.
THE END.
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.EDINBURGH AND LONDON
FOOTNOTES:
[1] For the sake of readers who might mispronounce the name of thefamous station Das-tipur if the official spelling were retained, thename is spelt phonetically.
[2] Club.
[3] Blackwater, _i.e._, sea.
[4] Government.
[5] Native porters.
Transcriber's Notes
Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.
Hyphen added: good-nature (p. 88), half-way (p. 133), light-hearted (p.111), over-wrought (p. 135), school-girl (p. 35).
Hyphen removed: dreamland (p. 164), hillside (p. 320), lifetime (p. 33).
The following words appear both with and without hypens and have notbeen changed: off[-]hand.
Pp. 8, 158: "Fortheringham" changed to "Fotheringham".
P. 11: "alterative" changed to "alternative" (a very agreeablealternative).
P. 42: "biddin" changed to "bidding" (only too happy to do her bidding).
P. 99: "hat" changed to "that" (there is no necessity for that).
P. 111: "he" changed to "she" (she might console herself).
P. 111: "protege" changed to "protegee" (her _protegee_ be put beyondthe reach of danger).
P. 131: "dot" changed to "got" (You've got a big tear on your cheek).
P. 209: "adepts" changed to "adept" (adept at interpreting them).
P. 213: "corps" changed to "corpse" (each one motionless andcorpse-like).
P. 239: "or" changed to "for" (Here I shall be for weeks).
P. 293: "incongrous" changed to "incongruous" (rendered them somewhatincongruous companions).
P. 296: added "I" (I have my beloved Browning).
P. 337: "violent" changed to "violet" (Mrs. Vereker's violet eyes).
P. 344: "terzo incommodo" changed to "terzo incomodo".
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