The Hound From The North Part 43

"He's dead--he's dead," she repeated to herself over and over again.

Then suddenly she ceased her repet.i.tions and shook her head.

"Mussy-a-me, mussy-a-me! The Lord's will be done!"

And she slowly fell in a heap by her dead son's side.

IN CONCLUSION

Time, the great healer of all sufferings, all sorrows, can do much, but memory clings with a pertinacity which defies all Time's best efforts. Time may soften the poignancy of deep-rooted sorrow, but it cannot shut out altogether the pain of a mother's grief at the loss of an only son. In spite of all Hervey's crimes he was "the only son of his mother, and she was a widow." The story of his villainies was rigidly kept from her, and so she thought of him only as a prodigal, as a boy to be pitied, as one whose offences must be condoned; she sought for his good points, and, in her sweet motherly heart, saw a wonderful deal in him on which to centre her loving memory, which, had he lived, even she could never have discovered. It is something that erring man has to be humbly grateful for, that women are like this; so full of the patient, enduring love which can see no wrong in the object of their affections.

But Loon d.y.k.e Farm became intolerable to Hephzibah Malling after the ghastly tragedy of her son's death; and when Robb and Alice saw fit to marry, urged on to that risky experiment by the two older ladies, she insisted upon leasing the place to them on ridiculously easy terms.

She would have given it to them only for their steady refusal to accept such a magnificent wedding gift from her.

The old lady was rich enough for her needs and her daughter's, and, business woman as she was, she was generous to a fault where her affections were concerned. Prudence too was satisfied with any arrangement which would take her away from the farm. Knowing what she knew of her brother, Loon d.y.k.e could never again be her home. So mother and daughter retired to Ainsley, and only once again did they return to their old home on the briefest of visits, and that was to a.s.sist at the function of christening the son and heir of the Chillingwoods.

Later on Prudence induced her mother to make Winnipeg her home, but though, for her daughter's sake, she acceded to the request, she was never quite at ease among her new surroundings. Nor was Sarah Gurridge, when she visited her old friend during her holidays, slow to observe this. "My dear," she told Alice, one day after her summer vacation, "Hephzibah is failing fast. She's quite old, although she is my junior by two years and three months. An idle life doesn't suit her; and as for Prudence, she wears fine clothes, and goes out in society all day and most of the night, but she's that thin and melancholy that you wouldn't know her for the same child. It's my opinion that she's pining--they are both pining. I found a letter from Hamilton when I got back home. It was from George Iredale, and I'm going to answer it at once."

"And what are you going to say in your reply?" laughed Alice. "I know your matchmaking propensity. So does Robb."

The quiet, dreamy face of the old school-mistress smiled over at the happy mother.

"Say?" she exclaimed. "I'm going to give George a piece of my mind for staying away so long. I know why he's doing so, and my belief as to the cause of his absence is different from what Prudence is beginning to imagine. She thinks he has left her because of her brother's doings, and it's that that's driving her to an early grave. I shall certainly tell George what I think." And Sarah wagged her head sagely.

And she was as good as her word. She had not seen fit to tell Alice that she had been in constant communication with George Iredale ever since the day of the tragedy, or that she was in his confidence as regarded Prudence. George had left the district to give both Prudence and her mother time to recover from the shock. And now that a year or more had pa.s.sed away, he had written appealing to Sarah to tell him if she thought the time auspicious for his return.

In a long, carefully-worded letter Sarah advised him not to delay.

"By dint of much perseverance," she wrote, "I have persuaded the child out of her absurd notions about the reflections her brother's doings have cast upon her. She looks at things from a healthier standpoint now. Why should she not marry? What has she done to debar her from fulfilling the mission which is appointed for every woman? Nothing!

And I am sure if a certain man should return and renew the appeal which he made at the time when the Lord's anger was visited upon her brother, she would give him a different reply. However, I must not waste all my s.p.a.ce upon the silly notions of a child with a misdirected conscience."

And how her letter bore fruit, and how George Iredale returned and sought Prudence in the midst of the distractions of Winnipeg's social whirl, and how the girl's answer, when again he appealed to her, turned out to be the one Sarah had prophesied for him, were matters of great satisfaction to the sage old school-mistress.

She a.s.sisted at the wedding which followed, she saw the bride and bridegroom off at the railway depot, she remained to console her old friend for the loss of her daughter. Then she hied her off once more, back to the bleak, staring school-house, where she continued to propound sage maxims for the young of the district until her allotted task was done, and the tally of her years complete.

THE END

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