CHAPTER XXXIV
THE CONTRITE HEART
Who knows whither the clouds have fled? In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake. And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, And the heart forgets its sorrow and ache.
_----James Russell Lowell._
DURING Libby Anne's illness Mrs. Cavers had been so anxious about herthat she had hardly given a thought to anything else; but when thelittle girl's perfect recovery seemed assured, she was confrontedagain by the problem of their future. Libby Anne's illness, in spiteof the neighbours' and the doctor's kindness, had made a hole in thetwo hundred dollars the Watsons had given her. She still had somemoney left from her share of the crop, but she would need that fornew clothes for herself and Libby Anne; there would be the price oftheir tickets, and the other expenses of the journey, and she mustsave enough to buy her ticket back to Manitoba.
Of course, there were still the two cows and the hens, which theneighbours had kindly taken care of for her, and there was some oldmachinery, but she did not expect that she would get much from thesale of it.
The first day that Libby Anne was able to walk, Dr. Clay came out tosee her, and brought to Mrs. Cavers a letter from the new tenant whohad rented the Steadman farm. The letter stated that the writer wasanxious to buy all her furniture, machinery and stock, and wanted tomake her an offer of three hundred dollars cash for them.
Mrs. Cavers read the letter with astonishment. She had never hopedfor such a price. "Now, doctor," she said, "you've been to me one ofthe best friends any one ever had. Tell me one thing--is Sandy Bradenpaying part of this?"
Dr. Clay was prepared for the question and answered evasively. "I'llbring the man here to see you--he's an old Indiana farmer with lotsof money, and you know your implements are in very good shape. I wentout with him to the farm, and together we figured out what the stuffwas worth. Here is the list; he is perfectly satisfied if you are."
Mrs. Cavers shook her head doubtfully. "I know that the stuff is notworth more than half that amount, and I know very well that eitheryou or Mr. Braden has fixed this up for me to let me still feelindependent and have my trip back home. I know that, but I'm going totake it, doctor, without a word. I am not even going to try to thankyou. I haven't seen my mother or any of my own people for twelveyears. It has been my sweetest dream that some day I would go backhome, and now it looks as if the dream were coming true. I am like alittle hungry boy who has been looking at a peach in a shop windowfor days and days and days, desiring without hope, when suddenlysomeone comes out and puts it in his hand--he will quite likely runaway with it without so much as thanking his kind friend, but he'sgrateful just the same. That's the way it is with me, doctor; I amgrateful, too, so grateful that I can't talk about it."
A month later Mrs. Cavers and Libby Anne arrived safely home, andLibby Anne's enraptured eyes beheld the tall maple trees, the bed ofred and yellow tulips, and the budding horse-chestnuts of her dreams.The grandmother, a gentle, white-haired old lady, looked anxiouslyand often at her widowed daughter's face, so worn and tired, socruelly marked by the twelve hard years; and although Mrs. Caverstold them but little of her past life that was gloomy and sad, yetthe mother's keen eyes of love read the story in her daughter'swork-worn hands, her gray hair, and the furrows that care andsorrow had left in her face. She followed her about with tenderestsolicitude, always planning for her comfort and pleasure. She oftensat beside Mrs. Cavers when, in the quiet afternoon, she lay in thehammock on the veranda. Always as they talked the mother was thinkingof the evil days that the world had held for her poor girl, andplanning in every way her loving heart could devise to make it up toher, after the fashion of mothers the wide world over.
To Mrs. Cavers, the spring and summer days were full of peaceand happiness. The quiet restfulness of her mother's home--thewell-appointed rooms, the old-fashioned piano, with its yellow keys,in the back parlour, the dear familiar pictures on the walls--allthese seemed to soothe her tired heart. The garden, with its patchof ribbongrass, its sumach trees and scarlet runners, was full ofpleasant associations, and when she sat in the little vine-coveredsummer-house and listened to the birds nesting in the trees above,the long twelve years she had lived seemed like a bad dream, hazy andunreal--the real things were the birds and the vines, and hermother's love.
July came in warm and sultry, but behind the morning-glory vines thatclosed in the small veranda it was always cool and pleasant. One dayMrs. Cavers, lying in the hammock, was looking at the sweet face ofher mother, who sat knitting beside her. All afternoon, as she laythere, she had been thinking of the hot, busy days on the farm whichshe must soon face--the busy, busy farm, where the work has to bedone, for the men must be fed. Each day she seemed to dread itmore--the early rising, the long, long hours, the constant hurry andrush, the interminable washing of heavy, white dishes in a hot littlekitchen, reeking with tobacco smoke. She had gone through it manytimes, cheerfully, bravely, for there had always been in her heartthe hope of something better--good days would surely come, when herhusband would do better, and they would be happy yet. This thoughthad sustained her many times, but the good, days had never come, andnow--how could she go back to it with no hope. There was nothingahead of her but endless toil, just working every day to earn aliving. Oh, was life really such a priceless boon that people shouldcrave it so!
"Must you really go back to the West, Ellie dear?" her mother asked,as if she read her daughter's bitter thoughts.
Mrs. Cavers sat up and smiled bravely. "Oh, yes, mother, it's theWest for me; but some day we'll come back again for another one ofthese dear, lovely visits. I always felt I would never really berested until I got back here and had you to sit beside me. But, ofcourse, I must go back for the harvest--it is really a beautifulcountry, and especially so in the fall of the year, and I have somebusiness there which I must go and attend to." She did not tell thenature of the business.
"Ellie, I would like to have you always with me, and your dear littlegirl--there's only the four of us, and we are so happy here. Whycan't you stay with us?"
Mrs. Cavers knew why, but she could not tell her mother that she hadvery little in the world beyond the price of a ticket back toManitoba.
"I've been praying every day since you came, Ellie, that we wouldnever need to part again," her mother said wistfully. "I can't letyou go, it seems."
Just then the gate clicked and a heavy step came rapidly up the walk.Mrs. Cavers, starting to her feet, found herself face to face withSandy Braden as he came up the steps.
For a few seconds neither of them spoke. Then Mrs. Cavers held outher hand. "Mr. Braden," she said. Words failed her.
"I want to speak to you for a few minutes," he said.
She opened the door and led him into the little parlour.
"Mrs. Cavers, I know that my presence is full of bitter memories foryou," he began. "You have no reason to think kindly of me, I wellknow; but no one else could do this for me, or I would not forcemyself on you this way----"
She interrupted him. "You were kind to me and my little girl once;you did for us what few would have done. I have never thanked you,but I have always been and always will be grateful; and when I thinkof you--that is what I remember."
There was a silence between them for a few seconds. Then he spoke.
"I don't know how to begin to say what I want to say. I did you agreat wrong--you, and others, too; not willfully, but I did it justthe same. I can never make amends. Oh, forgive me for talking aboutmaking amends--but you're not the only one who has suffered; it'swith me night and day. I can see Bill's face that day--on theriver-bank! I liked Bill, too. As you know, I closed the bar that dayforever, but it was too late--to help Bill."
Mrs. Cavers was holding the back of a chair, her face colourless anddrawn.
"I heard a few days ago that you were coming back to Manitoba towork, to earn your living and the little girl's. I can't standthat--I had to come--Oh, don't scorn me like that--let me help you.If it had not been for my ba
r you would have had plenty. I wantyou to take this; it's the deed of a half-section of land nearBrandon--it will keep you in plenty. I'm a blundering fellow--I'veput it roughly, but God knows I mean it all right."
He stopped and wiped the perspiration from his face.
"I can't take it," Mrs. Cavers said, without moving.
"You must!" he cried, moving nearer to her. "Don't refuse! Oh, Mrs.Cavers, you were merciful to me once--do you mind how you held outyour hand to me that day? God bless you, it was like a drop of waterto a man in hell. Have mercy now; take a little of the burden from aguilty man's heart."
"I do forgive you freely, and I wish you well, but--I--I--can't takeyour money," she whispered hoarsely.
He walked up and down the room for a few moments, then turned to heragain.
"Mrs. Cavers, I've been a guilty man, careless and hard, but thatday--on the river-bank--I saw things as I never saw them before, andI'm trying to be square. My mother"--his voice broke and his eyesglistened--"my mother has been in heaven twenty years. She alwaystold me about God's mercy to--the very worst--that He turned no onedown that came to Him. My mother was that kind herself, and knowingher--has made it easier for me to believe that--God is alwaysmerciful--and always willing--to give a fellow a--a second chance. Ican't look for it or ask it until--you take this. Now, Mrs. Cavers, Iknow you don't like me--why should you?--but won't you take it?"
She hesitated, and was about to refuse again, when he suddenly seizedher arm and compelled her to meet his gaze.
"For God's sake!" he cried.
Mrs. Cavers took the document in her trembling hands.
Sandy Braden turned to leave the room, but she detained him.
"Mr. Braden," she almost whispered, her voice was so low, "I have amother like yours, one who makes it easy to believe that God isalways loving and kind--I want her to thank you for me. Tell her allabout it--she'll understand, just like your own mother would--thesedear old mothers are all the same."
Mrs. Cavers went back to the veranda and brought her mother into theparlour; then she went out, leaving them alone.
What passed between them no one ever knew, but an hour later SandyBraden went out from the little white cottage with a new lightshining in his face, and the peace of God, which passes allunderstanding, in his heart. He went back into the world that daydestined to do a strong man's part in the years to come.