A happy woman
He was ready for her need—and repeated word for word what Colonel
Fleming had said to him.
"You've only to ask to have your sins forgiven, Eva. Christ died to
do it, we've read about it. He'll come and take your soul into His
keeping. Ask Him now."
"Oh, let us ask Him together. I've been a worldly, wicked woman, and I
have never thought of these things before."
So in the dead of night, whilst all the rest of the house lay sleeping,
husband and wife haltingly prayed their way into the Kingdom.
Graham had been learning slowly from the Master Himself. And when the
dawn broke, it found them both with the peace that no man can give, in
their hearts and souls, the peace that passes understanding.
CHAPTER V
TROUBLE AT THE HALL
MAY AGNEW stood in the farmhouse porch listening. It was a rainy day,
but equipped in her macintosh coat and hat, she defied the elements.
She had come over to see Sara, and was spellbound by hearing her sing.
A simple little song, but accompanied by the guitar, the haunting
melody of it surprised and delighted May. She waited till it ended,
then she stepped inside.
And a minute later, Sara was greeting her warmly.
"You never told me you sang, nor that you had a guitar."
"I am not always in a singing mood," said Sara. "I forgot all about my
guitar till the rain and winds of these last few days drove me indoors,
and baby likes music, so now I play and sing to him."
"It is impertinence to pronounce an opinion upon your voice, but it is
one of the most delicious that I have ever heard."
"Thank you," said Sara, laughing, "but I am no musician. I only sing to
amuse myself and others. How are you? I have not seen you lately."
"I have been busy, and now father is beginning his shoots, they keep me
occupied. I've come over to ask you up to dinner to-morrow night. Will
you excuse a short invitation? And will you be an angel and bring up
your guitar and sing to us? Father is so fond of music."
"Thank you for asking me. Yes, I will certainly sing to you if you
would like me to do so. Is it a big party?"
"No, only the men in the house, and one of my aunts is staying with us.
I shall ask Nellie and the Rector up. Then we shall be four ladies to
six men, but I can't help that."
Baby Oliver, who had been sitting on the floor listening to the music,
now demanded attention. Sara rang the bell and gave him to his nurse.
"I know you like children," she said, "but I don't want him to bore my
visitors when they come."
"You don't let him do that as a rule. I love him. I'm so glad you're
staying on here. You won't be going back to town just yet?"
"No," said Sara, clasping her hands tightly round her knees and gazing
dreamily into the fire. "I have been thinking over it, but the fogs are
very bad there, they say, and nurse seems to have settled down here.
I'm inclined to stay on. You say it is never very cold here."
"Splendid! It's never cold in our village; we're sheltered from the
north-east winds. You look so cosy here that I should love to stay and
have a good talk, but I'm busy and I must move on. I shall look forward
to seeing you to-morrow."
She was gone as quickly as she had come, but Sara did not stir from her
seat. Her guitar and the little songs she had been singing had taken
her thoughts back to Felstone Corner where she had sung so often to
Mrs. Laird. She had not heard from her friend lately; and in her quiet
life at the farm, she learnt to look for letters as a real treat.
She had settled down very comfortably in this small Devonshire village.
She knew most of the villagers by this time. And though May had been
quite right in saying there was no want or poverty amongst her father's
tenants, yet Sara had found a good many sad hearts amongst them. If it
was a model village, the inmates of the pretty cottages were much the
same as other country people. They had their quarrels, their family
troubles, their share of sickness.
Sara found an old blind man who loved to be read aloud to, and an old
bedridden woman who welcomed every visitor with keen delight. These she
visited regularly every week. The Rector had asked her to do so. She
never found time heavy on her hands, and she was happy, in spite of the
heartache of Graham's marriage, and all that she felt it entailed.
The next evening she went up to the Hall. It was not the first time
that she had dined there, and she and the Squire were very good
friends. Sometimes he would come to the farm to have a chat with her,
and to bring her one of his favourite books. For though a farmer and a
sportsman, Mr. Agnew was also a lover of books, and he spent an hour
every day in his library amongst them.
Sara loved to watch May moving about amongst her guests. She was a
perfect hostess, and on this night was in the brightest spirits. Sara
wondered if the presence of a favourite cousin, a handsome young
soldier, was accountable for this. He paid her great attention, but so
did two other men, one a barrister, who to Sara's surprise knew her
brother, and the other a young neighbouring squire. Nellie Peel looked
very pretty in her soft white satin gown. May was in black and gold. A
gold braid was threaded through her dark hair, and a crimson rose at
her breast. Sara herself wore russet-brown velvet. Rare lace was in
neck and sleeves, and a single row of pearls was the only ornament she
wore.
Miss Agnew, a tall stout woman with plain features, but with a great
deal of presence and personality about her, said to Sara as they
gathered round the drawing-room fire after dinner was over—
"I never felt so plain in my life. You three young people quite put me
in the shade. My niece has lost her heart to you, Miss Darlington. I
knew you must be something special, for she is very critical as a rule."
"She has been very kind to me a stranger," said Sara, "and I am very
fond of her."
"She ought to marry," her aunt continued, "but I don't know what my
brother would do without her. And he is getting old. I see a great
difference in him this time. I haven't been here for a year. I live in
Bath, and am not fond of moving about. He does too much, I tell him;
and his daughter takes after him that way. A pity that little creature
over there doesn't do more in her husband's parish. What a get-up for a
parson's wife! And yet she is so pretty that one can forgive her a lot!"
When the gentlemen came in, May begged Sara to sing.
"And sing that sweet little song you were singing to yourself and the
baby the other afternoon in the twilight."
"It is very simple," said Sara; "all my songs are. They suit the
guitar, which cannot accomplish much."
She sat where she was, and as she played and sang, she riveted the
attention of all. Her graceful ease, and the happy, shining light in
her big grey eyes, made the Squire turn to his sister—
"If I were twenty years younger, Maria, I should have lost my heart to
her."
And Sara sang—
"Oh, how can you sing, and why do you sing,
Little Robin with voice so gay?
The snow and the frost have whitened the ground,
Your food has been taken away!
"I sing because I am sure of my food,
There is always some one to see
That robins have food when the ground is hard.
I'm certain it's coming to me!
"Oh, how can you sing, and why do you sing,
Gentle thrush with the speckled throat?
The bushes are bare, and the rain beats down;
You have not a sorrowful note!
"I sing because of the sweet coming spring,
I heed not this dismal wet day.
It will not last, for the sun will shine forth,
The clouds will be driven away!
"Oh, how can you sing, and why do you sing,
Fair maid in the gloomy black gown?
Alone in the world in a garret small,
And outside—a dull dreary town!
"I sing because I have joy in my heart,
And my eyes are so far away,
On the hills of gold where my treasures are,
And where I am going one day!
"Oh, Robin, and Thrush, and Maiden so fair,
With your joy and your faith so sure,
We'll all learn to sing in the darkest time,
We'll sing, and we'll learn to endure!"
Sara's voice struck a chord in every heart. The Squire brushed his hand
across his eyes.
"Those simple songs for me," he said. "Can you give us some more?"
Sara complied with his wish. It was her voice perhaps more than the
words that always reached the hearts of those who listened. If her song
was gay, her hearers became so; if it was full of pathos, tears rose to
their eyes; if it touched on some of the deep things in life, a sweet
and softened expression came over the faces of her audience.
That was a very pleasant evening at the Hall; and Sara always looked
back to it afterwards as one of her bright times.
When she left, the Rector and his wife said they would walk home with
her. They were all accustomed to returning from their parties on foot.
Nellie was longer than Sara in equipping herself for her walk home, and
for a moment Sara stood on the broad stone terrace outside the front
door enjoying the beauty of the night.
The Squire came up to her there, and startled her by putting his hand
on her shoulder.
"Thank you, my dear, for the pleasure you have given us to-night. Your
songs have brought back to me many sweet memories. I'm glad to think
you're a friend of my girl's. You'll help her. She's a good girl, but
a wee bit too sure of herself. As we get older, we realize how many
mistakes we have made."
He gave a little sigh, and Sara hardly knew what to say.
"I'm very fond of May," she said, "and think myself fortunate in being
made so welcome by all of you."
And then the Rector came up, and they said good-bye to their host and
came away.
"I wish I could sing like you," Nellie said, taking her arm
affectionately.
"I wish I could paint like you," said Sara, laughing. "We must be
content with our own gifts, must we not?"
"We can all sing in our hearts," said the Rector, and he murmured to
himself. "We'll sing, and we'll learn to endure."
His wife caught the words.
"I suppose you have to endure me," she said, half-laughing, half-vexed.
"And I consider I have to endure much more from you than you do from
me. Because I let you go your own way, and never interfere with you,
but you won't let me go mine. Fancy, Miss Darlington, they're making a
new golf course at Manstead, and he doesn't want me to become a member!
Now what possible harm can golf do me?"
"We won't discuss that subject now," said the Rector, uneasily.
"No," said Sara, quietly; "a third person ought never to be brought
into a discussion between two. It isn't fair, especially if she wants
to remain a friend of those two!"
Nellie laughed.
"But you see I want you to take my part. John thinks it right to
deprive me of so many pleasures. I should like to ride out with the
hounds. May has offered to mount me, and I can ride a little, but it is
tabooed. They are going out to-morrow. Would you like to come to the
meet with me? I am going on foot. They meet at Spelding's Cross. It
will be a nice walk—just two miles from here."
"No, I am afraid I can't go to-morrow," said Sara. "Nurse is having a
day out, so I have the baby."
"Oh, that blessed baby! Well, I won't say anything against him, for I
know you adore him, and he is a darling. I do allow that."
Then the Rector began to talk of the Squire's library, and as he and
Sara were both book lovers, they waxed enthusiastic over it, whilst
Nellie laughed at them both.
As they parted with Sara at the gate, the Rector said—
"I hope you will bring your guitar over to us one day. I haven't
enjoyed an evening so much as I have to-night for a long while."
And as they went along the lane, Nellie called out—