A happy woman
before the fire.
"Now," she said, "we have another surprise for you! Mrs. Laird has gone
to sleep, and I do not want to wake her, but she asked me to show you
the surprise. Will you come this way?"
She stepped out into the passage and opened the door of what had been a
lumber-room. It was behind the kitchen and looked out into the garden.
Graham could hardly believe his eyes. All the boxes and rubbish had
disappeared. A dark crimson carpet was on the floor, and the same
coloured curtains to the big square window. There was a square table
with a new desk and inkstand, two big leather armchairs. A bureau with
a glass bookcase on top, and a roomy cupboard in a recess. Some old
prints lined the walls which were covered with a grey paper. A small
bright fire flickered in the grate.
It looked as it was meant to look, a man's room waiting for him to
occupy it.
"Your mother thought of everything. She was horrified that you
had written, and read, and smoked, and ate in the same room—the
dining-room."
"It did not seem worth while to move from it," said Graham. "I
really shan't know myself. What a revolutionary person you are, Miss
Darlington!"
"But it isn't me! It is your mother."
"Yes—yes—but you have carried out her wishes, and aided and abetted her
all through. I am in luck! Dear little mother!"
He looked round him as pleased as any boy, and then Sara slipped away.
And Graham sank into one of the big chairs, pulled it close to the
fire, and lighting up his pipe gave himself up to some very pleasant
reflections.
The next day he went off early to interview Sir Malcolm, but got home
in time for lunch, and found Mrs. Laird downstairs and quite herself
again.
At lunch, he began to talk of his visit to Dalby.
"Cousin Anna was overjoyed to see me," he said. "I found her a pitiful
little creature, overtaxing her brains and strength by multiplicity
of good deeds, and being defrauded right and left by a most obnoxious
rogue of a secretary. She had just begun to find him out, and was
terrified of convicting him of dishonesty. I went to her in the nick
of time, for I spent a good day and night studying his books, and
then gave him the sack on the spot. She is one of the frailest little
creatures I have seen, does a man's work, and does not seem to have
a single capable person about her. The only person I saw who seems
to have any gumption is a sad overworked girl, a kind of companion
to her, I fancy. She, Cousin Anna told me, is her right hand in most
of her charitable objects, and it was she who opened her eyes to the
delinquencies of the secretary."
"And what about her colliery?" asked Mrs. Laird. "Is she still working
that? Is that in a satisfactory condition?"
"I should doubt it, for she is always changing her agents. She says
she must have a Christian man at the head of it. And her so-called
Christian men prove failures from a business point of view."
"Poor Anna, she always was queer from a girl!" said Mrs. Laird. "Have
you been able to find her another secretary?"
"Not yet. I want to overhaul her accounts a bit first. I have brought a
batch of books away with me, and promised her I will go back for a day
or two, till she gets straight again."
"You are not going away again?"
"Not for long, mother. I couldn't leave my work here. I may run up for
a week-end."
"I don't really see why you should worry over Anna's business affairs.
Can't she engage a lawyer to work for her?"
Graham smiled.
"She says she doesn't trust lawyers, and she's a woman who likes
to keep the reins in her own hand. The consequence is that only
inferior and incapable people will work with her. But she has given
me 'carte blanche' to do what I like, provided I pull her out of her
difficulties."
"How can you be in two places at once?" said Mrs. Laird. "Sir Malcolm
takes up all your time here."
"Oh, I can do a good deal in a week-end. I should have the whole of
Sunday up there, and could get through a good bit of work in it."
A sudden silence fell on them. Then Graham began to tell them about his
Scotch visit, and he was more animated than Sara had ever yet seen him.
Later in the day, he happened to come through the garden as Sara was
trimming some dead flowers and tying up her chrysanthemums. He stopped
and began to assist her. His help was very welcome, and Sara said as
she thanked him—
"Your rôle in life seems to be to help us women."
"It's the least I can do. I feel so sorry for my poor little cousin.
She is too guileless, and is taken in right and left. If she would only
not try to mix up religion with business she would get on much better."
"I don't agree."
"No, I know you don't. But the fact is there. These Christian
secretaries and agents are all rogues and hypocrites. They are fleecing
her."
"Then that proves they are not genuine Christians. There is always the
counterfeit article, is there not?"
He did not reply for a moment, then he said, abruptly—
"I saw disapproval stamped upon your face when I mentioned working
for her on Sunday. Now, doesn't your Bible say somewhere that you can
rescue an animal on a Sunday? Is it more wicked to rescue a human
being, especially a little saint? If I don't do something for her,
she'll drift into a regular quagmire of debt."
"I don't think she will let you work for her on Sunday," said Sara.
"You are a Christian, aren't you? We are all bound to respect the day
of rest."
"I am bound to nothing. I never go to church, as you know."
"I am hoping you will go with your mother next Sunday."
"Why?"
"It will please her, and will do you good."
"I wish I could see things as you do. But religion has never
influenced me as a practical thing. And I am essentially practical and
matter-of-fact."
"True religion is absolutely practical. May I quote St. James? What can
be more practical than his definition of it.
"'Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To
visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep
himself unspotted from the world.'"
"The latter condition is very vague."
Sara shook her head.
"We won't argue. But has not your mother's altered state of mind proved
that religion is very real and practical?"
"But I don't put down my mother's improved health to her religious
views. It is your vivid personality that has impressed and changed her.
"Nothing of the sort," said Sara, emphatically. "I could live with her
for fifty years and never be able to bring her peace of mind. She has
given herself into the keeping of our Master. He brought her into touch
with Himself, and she lives every day of her life now wholly dependent
on Him for strength and guidance."
"You may fancy that, but it is your—shall I call it mesmeric influence
that plays upon her heart. If you went away, what would happen? Why,
ten chances to one, my mother would lapse into her old depression of
spirit."
"Not now," said Sara, firmly.
"Now, Miss Darlington, do you really believe that the Creator of the
Universe would take the trouble to pick out my mother as His special
charge?"
"Certainly I do. What are we told?
"'Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose
name is Holy: I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is
of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble,
and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.'"
"You must know your Bible by heart," said Graham, with a little smile.
"I still maintain that you, rather than our Creator, influence my
mother."
"I should almost like to go away from her to prove how wrong you are."
"Oh, please don't do that! What a discussion we are having. I am only
too thankful for my mother's improved health and spirits—whatever may
be the cause!"
The subject dropped.
But the following Sunday, Graham did accompany his mother to church,
and Mrs. Laird was very happy in consequence. He drove her there and
back, but Sara preferred to walk across the hills by herself.
As Graham and his mother were returning, Mrs. Laird said—
"I have missed a great deal of happiness all these years; what a
blessing Sara has been to us all!"
"Would you miss her if she left you?"
"Very much indeed. She is not thinking of doing so, is she?"
"Not that I know of, but I suppose she will be wanting a change some
time. Would you be very miserable without her?"
"My dear boy," and Mrs. Laird put her hand gently on his arm, "I don't
think I shall ever be miserable again. I have new life in my soul. It's
just as we were hearing this morning, 'The Lord guides us continually
and satisfies our souls in drought.' I have Him with me. And though I
have lived most of my life without Him, He has forgiven the past, and
now fills me with joy."
"Very wonderful," murmured Graham, and he said no more.
It was not long before he paid another visit to his old cousin. He was
only three or four days away, but he did not spend Sunday there, and
then he made an astonishing proposal to his mother the day before he
returned.
"May I bring back Cousin Anna's young helper, a Miss Godwin? She has
had an attack of influenza, and is run down and badly needs a change.
Our beautiful hills will soon set her up again, and Cousin Anna is
quite willing to spare her."
"A strange girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Laird to Sara. "How can we do it? We
never have visitors. There is no spare room. And how can we entertain
her when she comes? I have seen so few people that I am shy of meeting
strangers. If it were Anna herself, it would be different."
"I think you might manage it," said Sara, persuasively. "There is an
empty room at the top of the house which I could move into, and give
her mine. You wouldn't have to entertain her. I expect it is rest she
needs. She would be quite happy, I am sure, if she were allowed to
amuse herself."
"I shouldn't like you to turn out of your room at all, for you are
close to me, and I should miss you."
"Very well, if you give me leave, I am sure I could make that top room
cosy for her."
Mrs. Laird made no further objections, and Sara took Izzie to help
her, and worked very hard all that day and the next. But the result
fully paid her for her trouble. The little room looked quite fresh and
dainty, and Izzie was wildly excited at the prospect of a strange young
lady coming to stay with them.
The travellers arrived by an early afternoon train, so that they
reached the house by five o'clock, and there was an abundant tea
waiting for them in the drawing-room. Mrs. Laird was quite composed
when she greeted the stranger; Sara looked at her with real interest.
She was a tall slim girl, with auburn hair, beautiful hazel eyes, and
a small white face and pointed chin. Her complexion was delicate and
transparent. When she got a little flush upon her cheeks from the fire
where she stood to warm herself, Sara thought her very pretty. But her
face in repose lacked animation, and she was very shy.
Yet once, when Sara laughed, she looked up at her quickly with a flash
of light in her eyes, then in a moment lapsed into her quiet pensive
mood again.
"Miss Godwin was not in love with our lake, Miss Darlington," said
Graham. "She did not make me pull up, and go into ecstasies over it as
you did."
"Perhaps Miss Godwin has seen views like it before. You must remember I
came straight from London; and the contrast was very marked."
The girl looked up quickly.
"I have never seen anything like it before, but it was eerie and lonely
and desolate; it made me want to cry."
"You must see it in the sunshine," said Sara, cheerily, "with the blue
sky reflected in it and the birds singing above it. You would want to
sing too!"
The girl did not answer. She leant back in her chair looking tired and