Amos Huntingdon

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

  "BY THE SAD SEA-WAVES."

  Next morning the brothers and their sister set off in high spirits fortheir temporary home at the sea-side. As Mr Huntingdon parted withJulia his voice trembled and his eyes swam with tears. She had got sucha strong hold on his heart now that he felt it hard to part with her,even for a time. "She is so like what her mother was at her age," hesaid mournfully to his sister, as they turned back into the house, whenthe carriage had fairly carried the young people away. Old Harry wasquite as much affected as his master, though he showed it in a differentway. The sight of "Miss Julia as was" getting into the carriage to gooff again was almost more than he could bear. She saw it, and kissedher hand to him. At this he gave a sort of jump, and then jerked hiselbow against his side with all his might, a proceeding intended tosuppress the outward exhibition of his emotion. Then, when his masterand Miss Huntingdon had returned to the breakfast-room, he stood gazingat a full-length portrait of Mrs Huntingdon, taken in her younger days,which hung in the hall, and bore a very striking resemblance to JuliaVivian as she now looked. Having feasted his eyes with the portrait fora minute or so, Harry uttered out loud one prolonged "Well;" and thembetaking himself to his pantry, sat down after he had slammed to thedoor, and put his elbows on his knees and his face between his hands.And there he sat, his breast heaving, and his throat gurgling, till atlast the simmering of his feelings fairly boiled over in a hearty floodof tears. "What an old fool I am!" he exclaimed at last. "It's all thebetter for her; and why, then, should I take on in this way? But, eh!she getting so like an angel--not as I ever seed one, only in a picture-book, and that had got wings, and she ain't got none. But she's gettingthe right look now; she's got into the narrow way, and so has MasterWalter too, only there's a bit of a swagger at present about hispilgrimage, but it'll all get right. They've got Master Amos with 'em,bless his heart, and it ain't much of the devil's head or tail as'llshow itself so long as he's got the management of things. And they'llall be back again by-and-by, and the dear old missus too, I'm sure ofit; so it'll all be well." Comforting himself with this thought, theold man wiped his eyes with his ample spotted pocket-handkerchief, andproceeded with his work, which he enlivened with a half--out--loudaccompaniment of texts, scraps of hymns, and fragments of wise andproverbial sayings.

  In the meantime the carriage was conveying the happy trio of travellersto the station, which being safely reached, they took train, and in theafternoon arrived at their destination. Amos had secured a nice littleroomy cottage close to the seashore, which was in the hands of a middle-aged motherly woman, who, with her only daughter, a girl some fifteenyears of age, waited on her guests. Having deposited their luggage, andordered a substantial tea, the little party strolled down on to thesands.

  It was a lovely summer day, and the sun was now hastening to the west.The tide was still running down, though it had come nearly to the turn,and its gentle rush, as it broke into a thousand sparkles of foam ateach returning wave, made music in their ears. Far away to the lefttall cliffs rose up, their majestic fronts scarred with the batteringsof unnumbered storms. On either hand the shore swept round, completingthe arc of one wide-extended bay, cleft in many places by paths whichled up, now through lanes overhung by rocks of various coloured sand,and now along downs of softest turf, to the little town, or, furtheroff, to solitary dwellings or clustering hamlets. Pebbles of dazzlingwhiteness lined the upper part of the slope down to the beach; and thesewere succeeded by a broad and even flooring of tough sand, along whichvisitors, old and young, found safe and ample space for exercise. Therewas no grand esplanade or terrace with its throng of health andpleasure-seekers. It was emphatically a quiet place, with its few neatlodging-houses and humble shops, one solitary bathing-machine, and acouple of pleasure boats now hauled up high and dry. To those who mightseek excitement at the sea, this little retreat would have provedinsufferably dull; but to those who brought their resources with them inheart, mind, and purpose, there was all that could be needed to cheer,elevate, and delight,--the grand old ocean, outspread in its vastdignity of space; the invigorating breezes; the passing ships; theglories of the most magnificent of nature's painters, even the sunhimself, who spread his tints of gold, crimson, and purple in broad,dazzling bands from the extreme verge where sea and sky met up to thecentre of the blue vault overhead, though here in hues paler, yet asintensely beautiful. And all around now breathed peace. No storm wasnow ploughing up the water into mountains of angry foam; but a quietripple and a gentle splash at regular intervals soothed the spirit bythe harmony of their ceaseless fall.

  The three travellers felt the tranquillising influence of the scene. ToAmos it was one of unmitigated pleasure. The others, no doubt, wouldnaturally have preferred a livelier spot, but now the consciousness thatthey were there to aid in bringing about a great and noble object madethem content and happy for the time. So, after a long stroll on thebeach, they returned, when the great glowing ball of the sun hadwithdrawn the extreme edge of his fiery rim below the horizon, to theircottage.

  Having finished their evening meal, a consultation was held as to thebest way of carrying out the purpose which had brought them from home.The obvious thing seemed to be that Amos should go over alone to thehouse where his mother now lived, which was distant some eight or ninemiles from their lodgings, and see what the physician in whose keepingshe was might advise or suggest. So, early the next morning, he rodeforth with a beating heart, and at the same time a happy trust, on hiserrand of love, his brother and sister having arranged to pay a visitfor the day to a fashionable watering-place about five miles distantalong the coast.

  When Amos Huntingdon had reached his mother's retreat and told hiserrand, he confided to the good physician under whose charge MrsHuntingdon was placed his great purpose, and the hope that it might nowbe accomplished, since his sister had returned to her home. The kind-hearted friend at once entered into his plans, and gave him everyencouragement to hope that he would meet with good success. But careand judgment and tact must be used, lest, in endeavouring to bring backthe mind to its old balance, anything should be done which might ratherthrow it further out. Nothing sudden or exciting must be attempted; forthe delicate structure, which care and sorrow had disarranged, must bebrought into a right adjustment by gentle and cautious treatment. Thejarring chords could not be made to vibrate in tune by sweeping themwith a rough and unsympathising stroke; all could be reduced to harmonyonly by some loving and judicious action which would draw up or slackenthe discordant strings with a force which would be felt only in itsresults. It was therefore arranged that on the morrow the physicianshould bring his patient to the sea-side at noon, and that, while he andshe were seated in view of the waves, and were listening to theirsoothing plashing, Amos and his brother and sister should pass near, andbe guided in what they should do as circumstances might suggest. "Yourmother," said the physician, "simply wants her mind clearing; all ismore or less confused at present. She grasps nothing distinctly; andyet she is often very near a clear perception. But it is with her mindas with a telescope: it is near the right focus for seeing thingsclearly, but simply it wants the adjustment which would bring it to thepoint of unclouded vision, and then, when that adjustment has beenreached, it wants to be kept fixed at the right focus. I cannot buthope that we may be able to come near to that adjustment to-morrow."

  Amos returned to his cottage much comforted. His brother and sister hadnot yet come back from their visit to the neighbouring watering-place;but at last they appeared, but not in the best of spirits. Somethinghad gone wrong with them, but Amos was too anxious to talk over themorrow's effort to ask them many questions about their excursion.

  And now the critical day arrived. The sun rose gloriously, lighting upthe heavens as he emerged from his eastern bed with a fan-shapedoutpouring of his rays which streamed up over one hemisphere of theheavens, painting the edges of myriads of small fleecy clouds with atransient crimson splendour.
The sea was almost glass-like in itscalmness, only heaving up and down sluggishly, as though reluctant to bemoved in its mighty depths. But, further out, a gentle breeze wasfilling the snowy sail of some graceful cutter as it stole across thebay, or steadily swelled out the canvas of some stately ship as she spedon with all sail crowded on her towards the desired harbour.

  Just a few minutes before noon, Amos, with beating heart, saw his friendthe physician conducting two ladies to a sunny bench on the edge of theshingles, facing the open sea. "Let us go," he said to his brother andsister, "and walk near them, but take no notice at first." So they allrepaired to the beach, and with deeply anxious hearts drew near thelittle group. Which of the two ladies was their mother? One of themwould probably be the physician's wife. They neared the sitters, andpassed on in front of them slowly, arm in arm. Who would have thoughtthat mother and children, who had not met for years, were now so closeto one another, and yet must for a while remain severed still? As thethree on foot were passing the bench, Amos just bowed his head to thephysician, and then looked at his two lady companions; and so did hisbrother and sister. There could not be a moment's doubt--the childrenknew their mother at once. The dear familiar face was there, and notmaterially changed. And did the mother know her children? Somethingtold her that they were beings in whom she had an interest; she saw inthem something familiar. Yet she had not at all as yet grasped theirrelation to her with a realising consciousness.

  "Pass on," said the physician softly; and they passed on. A look ofbewilderment and pain came over the face of the afflicted lady as thethree walked forward. She followed them eagerly with her eyes. Theyturned towards her again, walking slowly back, and her face at oncelighted up with a smile. "Sit down near us," whispered the physician toAmos, as he came up close to him, and all three sat on the sloping banknot many feet away from the bench. Oh, how the heart of Amos ached withyearning to throw his arms round his mother's neck; but he knew that itmust not be yet. Julia and Walter also found it hard to restrain theirimpetuosity.

  "Who are they?" at last said Mrs Huntingdon to the doctor. These werethe first words that for seven years had fallen from that mother's lipson the ears of her children. How full of music were they to those whohad so long mourned her loss!

  "They are visitors come here for change of air and to enjoy the sea,"was the reply.

  She looked puzzled. "I think I have seen them before," she said, andput her hand to her forehead.

  "Shall they sing something?" asked the physician.

  "Oh yes! it will be so sweet; it will remind me of old times," she said.

  Then Walter and his sister, at a nod from the doctor, began the touchingduet, "What are the wild waves saying?"

  Their mother listened with delight. Then she said, "That used to be oneof my songs; I used to sing it with--with--ah, yes, with my husbandWalter. Pray sing something else."

  Then the three united in singing "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds."

  As verse after verse was given by the three voices melodiously blending,a new light seemed to dawn into the lady's eyes. "Ah!" she cried, "Iused to sing that hymn with my dear children. Let me see. Yes, withJulia, and Walter, and Amos.--These are my dear children, are they not?"

  "Yes, yes, dear mother," cried Julia, unable to control herself.

  "Who called me mother?" cried Mrs Huntingdon excitedly, and was aboutto rise, but the physician gently held her back, and motioned to herchildren to restrain themselves.

  All was silent for a while, and then the medical man began to talk in anordinary way with the young people on indifferent subjects, but all thewhile marking the effect of their voices on their mother. She wasmanifestly coming to feel that those voices were very familiar to her,and to have her heart and thoughts drawn out towards the speakers. "Wewill move on now," said the physician after a few minutes had been spentin general conversation. Then, giving his arm to his patient, he turnedto her children and said, "Shall we meet here again the day after to-morrow at the same hour?" Amos bowed his assent, and, without anyspecial word of farewell, they parted.

  On the appointed morning the same party met on the beach. The gooddoctor at once began, "I have brought your mother to see you to-day, myyoung friends. She was a little confused when you last met, not havingbeen quite well; but I believe you will find her comfortable now."

  "Yes," said Mrs Huntingdon, "it is all right now. Yes, I see you aremy dear children, Julia, and Amos, and Walter; but what a long time itseems since I last saw you! Come to me, my children."

  They gathered round her, eager to show their love, and yet fearing to betoo demonstrative.

  "Ah, well," she continued, "Dr Atkin has told me all about it. He saysthat I have not been well--that my mind has been confused, but isgetting better now. Yes, you are my Julia, and you are my Walter andAmos. How kind of you to come and see me. And--and--your father, myhusband, how is he? How it all crowds back upon me!"

  "You must not excite yourself, dear mother," said Amos.

  "No, dear boy, that's true," she replied; "but all will be well, nodoubt. Will you sing me a hymn?" So they all drew close to her, Julialaying her head in her lap, and there feeling a mother's tears droppingfast upon her forehead, while Amos and Walter each held a hand. Thenall joined in a hymn, Mrs Huntingdon taking her part.

  As the party were breaking up, Dr Atkin took Amos aside and told himthat the lost balance was now nearly recovered, that his mother hadbecome able to think connectedly, and that the tangle in her mind had,through the judicious intercourse with her children, and theassociations that intercourse had called forth, been unravelled andsmoothed out. She might now form one of their party at the cottage, andby a careful avoidance on their part of all undue excitement, and theengaging her in cheerful and well-chosen subjects of conversation, therestored reason would become settled and strengthened, and she mightreturn in a few weeks to her old home, and be able to bear by degreesthe recurrence of old memories which old familiar scenes would call up,and the resuming of those duties and responsibilities from which herinfirmities had so long shut her out.

  Oh, with what thankfulness did Amos hear the physician's conclusion; andhow warm and loving was the welcome which greeted the poor restored oneas she entered, a few days later, the sea-side cottage, and took herplace in the comfortable armchair arranged for her in a snug corner,where she could look out upon the sea, and at the same time be close toall those dear ones who were now once more truly her own. And day byday, as the mind of that beloved mother became clearer and stronger,they were able with prudent gentleness to make her understand the stateof things at home and the sad history of her unhappy son-in-law; whileat the same time Amos never lost an opportunity of directing his dearmother to that Word of consolation, which he knew would be to her, as ithad been to himself, the only true and satisfying fountain of abidingpeace. And thus it was that she now learned to love that Bible which,in former days, had never been really her stay, for she had not thengiven her heart to Him who is the author, the centre, and the giver ofall truth, peace, and consolation.