Chapter XXIII: Sunshine at Last

MARGARET was very brave on the road, but at the sight of her husband's bandaged head and pale face, she lost the colour from her own.

"Don't be frightened, Maggie," said Adam, with a smile. "These cuts and humps up and down don't mean much. They tell me I shall get all right again in a bit. Keep a good heart, dear lass. I can do nothing but pray for you all as I lie here; but what a comfort I can do that! God will not forget us. He has taken a big weight off my mind in making me easy about you and the little things at home."

"It was Mr. Drummond's doing. He told me the wages would come regular, just as if you were working," replied Margaret.

"Aye, but God put it into his heart to see to it at once, and not let you and me be troubling ourselves, and wondering what was to be done until pay day came. Lifting the weight straight away was like good physic to me. And I felt so glad, dear lass, that your bit of money wouldn't have to be meddled with because of me."

"I'd give it to the last penny this minute, if it would make you well as you were when you started out to work this morning," said Margaret; and she meant it.

"Don't I know it, my girl? You're real grit, and would give more and better than money for the little uns and me. How are they all? You're not much for kissing, but mind you give 'em a kiss apiece for daddy. They'll miss me, I know, poor things!" And a tremble came into Adam's voice as he named his children. It was from him that after babyhood, they received the greatest tenderness and most caresses.

"I will, Adam, and they shall have more than one, both for their daddy and from their mother. And oh, my dear lad, forgive me for my contrary ways many a time, and specially this morning. You know, I wouldn't look or speak, and when our little Tom ran in and said you were killed, I thought I should ha' died when I minded how I'd been so stunt with you, and wouldn't speak back."

"Forgive you, Maggie! Of course I did, before you asked me. I know how it is when you feel tired, and worried with all the toiling and moiling with house, and bairns, and me. And you none so well able just now."

Margaret's tears had begun to flow at the thought of what she had felt during those awful moments when she never hoped to see Adam again in life.

And the nurse, who had been looking on, but out of ear-shot, now thought it time to interfere, lest her patient should be over-excited.

"You'll have to bid him good-bye now," said she. "You may trust him to us, and we'll have him ready to come home as soon as ever we can. We don't keep any of our patients longer than we can help. It is a pleasure to send them home looking and feeling different from what they do when they come to us."

The nurse's confident tone and hopeful words gladdened Margaret, and she thanked her for them.

Adam had heard from Richard Evans that his niece had gone to offer help without waiting to be asked; but, remembering Margaret's past treatment of the girl, the knowledge hardly gave him the comfort it was intended to do. He was almost afraid to mention Sarah's name, lest his wife should manifest the old spirit, but he soon found that fears on this head were groundless.

As Margaret bent over him to take a loving farewell, she whispered, "Sarah Evans came to me straight, as soon as ever she knew of my trouble. I felt so 'shamed of the way I'd behaved, that I could hardly look her in the face. But oh, Adam! You and Sarah are teaching me that there's something in religion. It makes folks do many a thing that they couldn't do without it. And the seeing what it does in them that have it, makes me want to be good too."

The nurse was again about to admonish Margaret to cut short her leave-taking, but the light on Adam's face convinced her that, whatever those lingering last words might be, they were giving pleasure to her patient, and she turned away, not to interrupt the farewell between husband and wife.

"Thank God! I'm so glad. All things are working together for good, even my getting hurt, Maggie dear. We shall be happier than we've ever been when I get home again."

"We'll try," whispered Maggie; and then she had to go, for nurse durst not allow her to stay longer.

"Mr. Drummond can get leave for you to come again very soon, Mrs. Livesey," she said, by way of comforting Maggie for having to leave her husband. "He's one of our trustees, and such a good visitor. He brings comfort with him whenever he enters the ward."

Margaret could well believe this, and thanked the nurse for all her kindness. She turned to give Adam a last smile and look, and Mrs. Evans thought how well she had borne up during their meeting. But when they got into the cab to return home, she startled her good friend not a little by a burst of weeping, and by words which followed the tears.

"I'm thankful I've seen him just once. It has been hard work to keep up now, but I shan't be able to go again for a while."

"Nurse said you might, and that Mr. Drummond would see about it."

"Aye, but I shan't be able," wailed Margaret.

The words perplexed Mrs. Evans, but she understood their meaning very soon. A few hours later, the effects of the shock Maggie had sustained when she heard that Adam had been killed were more fully shown. The little babe, whose coming she had been looking forward to with no little anxiety, was prematurely born. There would be no sweet cares in connection with a new life in the home, no extra work for the mother's hands, already full enough. But there were very present anxieties about the mother herself.

The doctor looked grave, and enforced absolute quiet, owning, too, that the case was at best a serious one. Neighbours, always full of sympathy at such a time, volunteered to take the children out of the way in the daytime, and, if needful, to give them a share of such sleeping accommodation as they possessed.

Mrs. Evans and Sarah were, however, aware of Margaret's particularity with regard to her children, and undertook to insure quiet in the home by arrangements of their own.

Mr. and Mrs. Drummond were greatly distressed at this new trouble—another result of Adam's brave, self-devoting action at the time of the accident. It is not needful to tell how ready both were to help and sympathise in every way, and anxious to prevent Adam from further suffering on Margaret's account. He must be told enough to explain her non-appearance at the hospital a second time, but her present danger must be hidden from him.

A few days and nights of anxious watching and loving ministry followed, and then those who waited and watched were called on for thankful rejoicing. The danger was over, and, though very weak, Margaret was in a fair way to recover. Adam was then told that it had existed, and was happily past, so he could only look hopefully forward. He knew those who brought the information would not deceive him. So, with the simple trust of a childlike Christian, he thanked God for mercies given, and left his dear ones and himself in "our Father's" hands.

As Margaret gained strength, and was able to listen first, and then to speak the thoughts that were in her heart, she and Sarah Evans were daily drawn nearer together. The old wilful, self-asserting Maggie, so confident in her own opinions, so sure that the profession of religion, and love for God's Word and His house, were only so many forms of cant, disappeared altogether. In her place was one who humbly owned that her Adam, and Mr. and Mrs. Drummond, and though last, not least, Sarah and her kinsfolk, showed what their religion meant by their lives.

She could not take Bible words to illustrate her meaning, for her memory had not been stored with such treasures of wisdom when she was a child. But she could say that whilst many in the manager's position as head of Rutherford's would only have taken Adam at his own valuation, and as a mere "hand" in the works, have deemed him "of no account," Mr. Drummond had bent in order to lift her husband from the slough of despond from which he could not free himself. He had evened himself with the poor labourer in one way, for had he not brought home to him, by God's help, some truth that had made another man of him?

Then look at Sarah. If the same spirit had been in her that once animated Margaret, she would have rather rejoiced at the trouble which had come upon her, seeing how ungratefully her former efforts had been rewarded.

Mrs. Drummond, with her sweet, refined ways and beautiful face, seemed like an angel almost to Maggie. In spite of her frequent presence in the sick room, she could not, however, have opened her heart to her as she was able to do to Sarah Evans.

Her own longing after the higher life to which the cultured Drummonds and her homely Adam had, by some mysterious way, alike reached, she could only express by the old childish words, "I do so want to be good."

Sarah understood the longing, and could tell Margaret the method by which Mr. Drummond had been enabled to show Adam that he ought not to deem himself of no account.

"It isn't that my husband thinks more of himself in a way," said Margaret. "He's that humble he'd put anybody before him. But he's a happy man now, and he looks up, as one may say, instead of looking down-trodden, and as if he hadn't a friend in the world, like he used to do."

"It's because he has a Friend, not only for this world but for ever and ever, in Jesus," said Sarah. "In the old days, he couldn't be very bright, for he only thought about himself as a poor labouring man at Rutherford's, with no likelihood of being anything else or getting a lift even in this world. I dare say he thought, 'If anything happened, somebody else would just go into my place, and the big hammer would rise and fall in fresh hands, and nobody would miss me but those at home.'

"But after Adam learned that in God's sight he was just as precious as the greatest man in the land, because Jesus came from heaven and took the form of a servant, and made Himself of no account, so that by His precious life and death, souls might be saved, why, Adam couldn't feel the same after he learned that lesson, could he now? Just to think that God gave as much for him as for the greatest king that ever lived."

"And for me too?" said Margaret, as if half in doubt.

"Of course. King and working man, queen and you, stand on the same level, as far as the soul's salvation goes. And when one lays right hold of this, and believes in the truth of it, one can't look down all the while. We begin to look up, and ask that God's Holy Spirit, who has taught us this much, will come into our hearts and help us to live our religion."

Many other talks followed. A few words at a time, but always to the purpose; and, what was still more effectual, the sight of Sarah's living faith shown in every act of kindness, patience, industry, cheerfulness, and self-devotion as she went about the house, helped to deepen the impression already made on Margaret's mind.

Her silence, too, taught something. She was ready to tell whatever it would please Margaret to know. Afterwards Mrs. Livesey alluded to these communings and talks by her sick bed, and said how pleasant it had been to hear about what was going on outside.

"But," she added, "never a sharp word nor an ill word about anybody ever crossed that girl's lips. Watching her and listening to her, I might have been a little lass at school again. Me, too, that is old enough to be her mother, and with six children of my own. Well, God has been very good. He has shown me a bit of myself, and made me glad and willing to learn better ways than I ever cared about before."

There was time for thought, heart-searchings, prayer, and some progress on the new path, before husband and wife met again. Each had suffered a severe bodily shock, and both required quiet and a longer rest than was at first anticipated.

They met again in their own home six weeks after the eventful day on which they parted at the hospital. Adam was allowed to leave the building, and attend as an out-door patient; but even then, Margaret was not strong enough to attend to her household duties.

Of course there was great rejoicing amongst the small Liveseys when father came home, and before he arrived there, many a fellow workman gave him a hearty greeting on the way. If the right hand had not been still in a sling, and otherwise protected, It must have stood many a grip from horny-handed toilers at Rutherford's.

It would be loss of time to try to describe the meeting between Maggie and her husband. The joy of both was too great to be expressed in words. Adam, never a great talker, and Maggie, given to express herself with much freedom of speech, were alike on this occasion.

Each felt as if the other had been given back from the grave, and each read in the face of the other the story of the glad thankfulness which filled their hearts to overflowing.

From that day, Adam and Margaret began to realize a more perfect union than they had ever before experienced. They had worked as one with regard to earthly things. Henceforward they had the same higher hopes, aims, and longings; and in looking back, each could say, "It is good for me that I have been afflicted."

Maggie was right in supposing that Adam's arm would never again be fit to wield that ponderous hammer which once swung to and fro like a toy in his powerful grasp. But her dreams became realities. It was most unlikely that no place would be found in the old works for one who had not only been injured through saving the manager from death, but who was in himself so trustworthy. Again good came out of the past evil.

An old man, much respected at Rutherford's, had a legacy bequeathed to him, which, with his savings, enabled him to retire. But little scholarship was needed for the post. Honesty, trustworthiness and steadiness were indispensable. With these everybody credited Adam Livesey, and so, to his own intense surprise and gratitude, he found himself actually promoted to a position far better than the one he had filled before the accident. The most he had looked for was labouring work proportioned to his strength, and perhaps with wages also in proportion to the diminution of his bodily powers.

"Who'll say you're of no account now, Adam?" said Maggie, beyond measure proud and delighted when he brought the news.

"Dear lass, I don't feel that it's because me being of any more account that this good has come to us," was Adam's answer. "In a way, I am worth less than ever. But it shows how God cares for us, for the sake of Him that you and I look to as our Saviour now. He never forgets the poorest and the least of His children.

"I mean, Maggie," added he, after a little pause, "I mean to try and fit myself a bit for my new place. It has been given me out of thought for me—not because I'm clever, or a scholar. I know that well enough. But I'll put in honest work, and never grudge an extra hour, and the children's schooling will come in and help their father."

Adam was in earnest, and by dint of much painstaking, he became daily better fitted for his new post, and gained higher wages still.

Margaret had once grudged her children the time for school and lessons. But she found out her mistake. The youngsters were quick, and made good progress; and though she still adhered to her opinions as to their learning a trade, instead of trying for ill-paid clerkships, she saw them received in turns at Rutherford's, and in a fair way to become skilled mechanics.

Mr. and Mrs. Drummond remained the firm friends of the Liveseys, and never forgot the debt of gratitude they owed to Adam.

As to Sarah Evans! No fear of Mrs. Livesey ever undervaluing her again, or of any misunderstanding because the girl won and kept the affection of the youthful Liveseys one and all.

There is somebody else who knows Sarah's worth, also. It is an open secret that she would be in a home of her own now, but for the fact that a dutiful son has been unselfishly caring for his parents, and paving the way to future comfort for the girl he loves by patient waiting and working.

Sarah will marry later in life than most of the working girls she has known. Many of these have married in haste, and too young to be fitted for such solemn duties as those of wives and mothers. But when she goes to a husband's home, the pair will be able to look back on filial duties faithfully performed, and forward with confident expectation of a happy wedded life together.

If Adam Livesey could be questioned to-day about his own, he would say that, like Job's, God had graciously blessed his later days more than those of his youth.

Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.