Chapter XXIV: Waiting

CHRISTINA and her aunt promised to spend Christmas day at Dr. Arundel's this year.

Walter's arrival was hourly expected, and it was felt by all that they could not divide their numbers; it was too sad a time for some of them, and the only way was to be all together.

To Dr. Arundel, the dread of the empty day was like a nightmare. Without allowing himself to repine, he yet could not help shrinking when he thought of the day dawning with no wife by his side to make all bright and happy, shedding her love on all around.

"I shall be helped through it," he had once said to himself, and though he knew not how he should be, yet his faith is rewarded; and his son's coming just at the dreaded time, unconsciously turned his thoughts into another channel, and lightened the gloom of his sorrow.

The day of Walter's arrival was a little uncertain, as he had not mentioned in which steamer he should sail. He had, they knew, travelled safely as far as Malta, as he had telegraphed from there, and now they were hourly expecting a second telegram to say he had landed at Southampton. For several days Nellie found herself starting, even when the postman's rap came to the door, thinking it might be the longed-for news, and every one felt excited.

About four o'clock on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Christina and her aunt arrived, and Nellie conducted Miss Arbuthnot to the spare room, and then took Christina up to her own—a usual custom, for then the girls could talk and feel at ease, which Nellie professed she never did in the spare room.

"Oh, it is nice to have you," said she, as she kissed Christina again, and helped her to take off her things.

"Dear Nellie," Christina answered, "I am so glad to come to you all."

They had not been in the drawing room more than two or three minutes, when a rap did come to the door, and Arthur exclaimed:

"That's no postman! For it is not his time." He started up and ran down into the hall, where the telegram was put into his hand.

"It is for papa," he said, leaping up the stairs three steps at a time, "but he said we might open it."

"Arrived safely at Southampton. Hope to be with you about eight."

There was a general shout of joy; and Ada hastened to the nursery with the telegram, to tell the little ones.

When Dr. Arundel's latch-key was heard, Arthur was the first to get to the door, and he ran down to him. His father guessed what his eagerness meant, and asked, "Is it come, Arthur?"

"Yes; the news that he is at Southampton."

"Thank God," said Dr. Arundel fervently; and then Arthur suddenly remembered that what had been all joy to him and the others, must be a fresh opening of the wound to his dear father.

Dr. Arundel went into his study, and was closing the door, when he found Arthur following. He came in and stood by his father's side in silence.

Dr. Arundel sat down in his armchair, looking tired and careworn, and Arthur put his hand on his shoulder with an affection which was somewhat rare in the strong boy.

"Papa," he said, "we don't forget what it must be to you, and you will not think in our pleasure at seeing Walter that we don't remember."

"No, my boy, no; I shall not."

Arthur looked in his face silently, and then, kissing his forehead, left him alone.

Alone, yet not alone! And before he rejoined his children, he had cast his burden on the Lord, and, like Hannah of old, "his countenance was no more sad."

"Nellie," said Christina after tea, when they were all assembled in the drawing room, "I have lost one of my children!"

"She does not look very sad," said Arthur, "so I suppose it is all right."

"How?" asked Nellie, but she guessed it must be little Charlie.

"It is all very well for you to laugh," said Christina to Arthur; "but it was a great grief to me, as well as a great joy."

"Do let us hear about it," said Tom.

"I told you that Mrs. Wood was to go home for Christmas. Well, a few days ago I received a note from her husband saying he should come to town to fetch her; for I had already arranged to see Mrs. Wood on her way through London.

"I therefore wrote to him, telling him to meet her at my house, as I should keep her till his arrival. Last Monday was the day fixed for her return, and about twelve o'clock Mr. Wood came to Sunnyside to see me.

"It would be impossible to tell you all he said of thanks to me for my efforts for her; but when he was a little calmed, I went to fetch Charlie. As you know, the little fellow is wonderfully improved since he came, but still looks delicate. His father, however, saw nothing but the improvement, and his joy was overpowering. To clasp the pretty, clean, well-cared-for little morsel in his arms again, was boundless delight.

"Charlie was a wee bit shy, but in a few minutes put his little head against his father's breast, and never offered to leave him again.

"Mr. Wood then asked me to allow him to share the expense of his wife's stay at the Home where she had received such benefit; but I knew their business had suffered much in consequence of her neglect of it, and I begged him to allow me to defray the whole of it, telling him it was freely given 'to the Lord.'

"'May He accept it, then,' he answered, 'and lay it up in heaven for you, for I can never, never repay my debt.'

"While we were sitting, I took the opportunity of saying something which was on my mind, before his wife should come.

"'Mr. Wood,' I said earnestly, 'you will forgive me for asking, but have you banished all intoxicating drinks from your table and house?'

"'Of course I have,' he answered, surprised.

"'Because,' I said, 'people are so forgetful; and I have heard of such sad cases of temptation and fall, from relatives selfishly continuing to take their moderate glass.'

"'You could not think me so cruel,' he said, looking sadly at me.

"'No, no; I only mentioned it.'

"'And now,' he said, 'tell me, what was your reason for abstaining, may I ask?'

"'Certainly,' I answered; 'it was just this. I was reading in my Bible one day, and this verse seemed to haunt me after I closed the book:

'"It is good neither to eat flesh, nor to drink wine, nor anything
whereby thy brother stumbleth, or is offended, or is made weak."

"'I pondered it for a long time before I could make up my mind. It was to me a piece of dreadful self-denial not to offer it to my friends as a usual beverage; but when I remembered that thousands in our country had ruined homes and broken hearts through its use, I could hesitate no longer.'

"He grasped my hand. 'But for your self-denial, my life here and hereafter would have been ruined,' he said.

"As he spoke, for we had been so earnestly talking we had not heard the bell, Jane opened the door, and Mrs. Wood was announced.

"She came across the floor looking at me, and apparently going to speak to me first, but her eyes fell upon her husband and baby; and forgetting her former intention, she threw herself upon her knees before them, and, encircling her child with her arms, buried her face in its lap, and sobbed out in a broken voice, 'Oh, Harry, forgive, forgive me!'

"I saw him put his arm round them both with a smothered, 'My dear, I am only too glad,' and then I slipped away.

"When I went back again after half-an-hour, they were sitting side by side, holding each other's hands, and looking, oh, so happy! Charlie had fallen asleep in his father's arms, and his mother had lifted his feet into her lap, and was holding them in her disengaged hand.

"She looked up in my face with a somewhat mournful look replacing the joyful one. 'He will not come to me,' she said; 'he does not know me.'

"Her husband pressed her hand. 'He will know you soon, dear. Soon there will be no one like "mother" to him!'

"She shook her head slightly. 'I deserve it,' she whispered; 'but with God's strength, I will never deserve it again.' Then turning to me she added, 'If it were on my own strength I was building, it would be a poor affair, Miss Arbuthnot; but when it is God's strength, that must be everlasting. Those words of yours have never left me—

'"Able to save to the uttermost."

"'He has saved me—saved me from the punishment of my sin hereafter, and saved me from the power of it here. He is, as you said, stronger than Satan.'

"How changed and altered she was in these three or four months! Her husband gazed upon her as if he could not unfasten his eyes. Then he bent over and kissed her.

"'You do not smell any spirits now?' she asked with a little laugh, which ended in a burst of tears.

"Mr. Wood asked me if I could spare Charlie to go back with them. 'His mother feels as if she could not part with him again, and yet I hardly like to take him so suddenly—'

"'You shall have him,' I answered generously, hardly knowing then what it would cost me, to see my little darling carried out of the house in his father's arms in the afternoon.

"I cannot tell you, dears, all they said and did, nor repeat their gratitude. How little had I done, and what an abundant blessing had my gracious Father given me!

"'They that sow in tears shall reap in joy,' He says—

"And I found it true."

* * * * * * *

If Christina could have chosen, she would have preferred to meet Walter at Sunnyside, at her own home, with only her aunt's kindly presence to embarrass her. But ever unselfish, she had considered what a sad time this must be to them in the Square, and had yielded to their wish to join them. She could not feel happy to take Walter from them just as he arrived, and knew that his heart must be rather divided if she were at a distance.

As the evening advanced, she sat by little Tom very silent. He seemed to understand her feeling, and held her hand without speaking; but once he whispered, "Mamma would have been so glad of this day, Christina; we can rejoice in thinking of that."

She pressed his hand, and then said very low, so that only he heard it, "It is a strange day, Tom, and I do not know how to rejoice; but I shall feel better perhaps when once he is here."

"Yes, you will," said the little comforter, reassuringly; "and all the more that it would please mamma for you to be really glad."

Dr. Arundel leaned back in his armchair, but was as cheerful as the rest now, and was talking with Arthur and Ada, and telling them stories of arrivals which he had known, and reminding them that nothing was sure in this world.

Netta and Isabel sat near Nellie with their work, but they did not do much; for every cab made them look up, and sometimes go to the window to peep out.

Nellie sat very quiet too. Would Walter ask her this time if she had any secrets? She hoped not; but perhaps he would be too taken up to think of her. Then a pang of jealousy shot across her heart; a pang instantly rebuked and confessed; but the thought filled her eyes with tears. Not the thought that she was no longer first with her beloved brother, but of grief that she could have even regretted it for a moment.

In her pocket lay a letter from Hope Elliot, received that morning, which as yet she had not had an opportunity to show to Christina.

"We cannot think" (the letter said) "what can have come to Wilmot. He writes to tell us that he will be down for Christmas; but that he thinks of going abroad. He will explain his plans to mamma, he says, and obtain her sanction, and then he means to be off at once."

"Have you seen him lately, Nellie? And can you tell us what wild scheme he has got in his head? Of course mamma will persuade him out of it, or I hope so; but it is too tiresome to even suppose he will throw up his good prospects here, and go out there on a wild-goose chase."

"Before, however, you have time to answer this letter, we shall see
him for ourselves, and be able to hear all about it."

Hope then went on to give her another and pleasanter piece of news.

"I have told you about Jack Morland, the young canoeist, whom we have got to know. Well, yesterday, he came to mamma's quite unexpectedly, and made Maude an offer, which she has accepted, and the young people are very happy. Mamma is pleased, for he is a very nice fellow, and we are all full of excitement."

This letter, with its double news, was lying in Nellie's pocket. She felt conscious of it all the time, with a dim impression of a hidden pain. She had told the wedding news in it at once; but the other must be confirmed before she would mention it.

There was a sudden "Hush!" from several of them. Yes, it was a cab at last stopping at the house; then everybody hurried to the door, and crowded down the stairs while Walter was being admitted, Miss Arbuthnot even going to the landing, and Christina and Tom were left alone.

He did not attempt to speak to her, and it was only a moment of intense bustle of arrival in the hall, before a quick light step was heard on the stairs, and Walter was once more with Christina, whom he had so longed to see.

When they could settle down to anything of quiet, after Arthur and he had helped in the carrying up of his heavy packages, all felt the blank in their midst.

Walter looked round the room with a sudden realization of what he had known and expected. His eyes met his father's, and both understood each other's thoughts.

Then Dr. Arundel spoke to them all, gravely and lovingly:

"My dears," he said, "we are all on a journey, travelling homewards. Those we love are only a little way on in front of us; they have reached home. They would have waited for us, but our heavenly Father called them, and told them to pass on first. It can only be a little while before we follow them; and meanwhile the same Father bids us do our work cheerfully, contentedly, hopefully, leaving us this promise always close to us:

"'Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.'

"We will thank Him for His goodness in bringing Walter home, and thus cheering our hearts."

When they rose from their knees, he kissed them all round, and telling them he should be with them again presently, went to his study.

That night, when all had retired, Walter sought his father, who told him the history of those last months.

"It is painful to me to speak of it," he said "but I feel relieved; my heart feels lighter than it has done since she left me, for I have not been able to speak much of it all. Nellie, dear girl, has had enough to bear."

"Yes, she looks very thin and tired; but Christina thinks she will recover gradually. I must try to cheer her if I can."

"Poor, dear little Nellie," said her father.