A Vanished Hand Part 20

Then the head of the family went off to find Mary and tell her the joyful news, and Francis and Lily stood under the dark cedar-boughs together hand in hand. She was too happy to know exactly what he was saying; she only knew that she had managed to say what was required of her, and that life had suddenly changed from gloom to glory.

September had set in, and only a few stragglers had come back to London.

Most people were still lingering on the sea-sh.o.r.e or among the breezy hills; but one young woman, standing at the window of a back-room in All Saints' Street, was looking as happy as if she loved the view of chimney-pots and smoky tiles.

It was the last day of Elsie's single life. The bell was just beginning to chime for five o'clock service; in the next room Mrs. Lennard and Miss Saxon were closing the lids of the boxes and looking round to see that nothing had been forgotten or left out. And Elsie, standing alone in her old place, was watching the sunset s.h.i.+ning on these crowded house-roofs for the last time. Meta's ma.n.u.script, carefully tied up, was lying on the little table near. As Elsie's fingers rested on the roll, her thoughts went straying back to that evening in the early spring when she had stood here to fight her battle in silence.

It was not until that battle had been fought and won that she had known the guidance of the vanished hand; and now, in the golden quietness of this hour, she recalled some lines from "In Memoriam" which seemed to come with new freshness of meaning to her mind:--

"In vain shalt thou, or any, call The spirits from their golden day, Except, like them, thou too canst say, My spirit is at peace with all."

Robert and Bertha were forgiven, although the old home had pa.s.sed into the hands of strangers, and the old haunts would know her footsteps no more. Mr. Lennard, too, had given up the living in Suss.e.x, and would come, later on, to settle in Rushbrook, near Wayne's Court. Mrs. Lennard had declared that it was impossible for her to live far away from her adopted daughter, and Elsie longed to have this faithful friend always by her side. And Miss Saxon, also, had promised to say good-bye to London, and follow Elsie into her quiet world of meadows and streams.

Another summer would bring Mrs. Beaton and her son into that pastoral country, just to refresh themselves with a glimpse of its sweetness and light. How Elsie would welcome the sight of those friendly faces which had gladdened her lonesome days!

To-night for musings; to-morrow for the beginning of the new life.

To-night for memories; to-morrow for the clasp of wedded hands and the solemn troth, plighted "till death do us part."

"But there will never be a parting," said Elsie, taking a last look at the fading light of the sunset. "Did not Harold and Meta walk together to the very brink of the river? and is not the vanished hand still pointing to the home of rest upon the other side?"