David Fleming's Forgiveness Part 33

He had never been quite at peace with himself through it all. G.o.d had never left him to an easy conscience, where Jacob Holt was concerned, even at his quietest time, and when things were at their best with him.

He had never left him to himself, and now the evil spirit was cast out.

"The patience He has had with me. It is wonderful!" he said again and again. "And now I ask nothing but that He may do His will with me and mine," he added, as Katie came in.

"I think grannie is no worse, though she is very weak and cannot bear much," was Katie's gentle caution, lest she should be excited overmuch.

He did not answer her, but turned to Mr Maxwell and repeated his words:

"I ask nothing but that G.o.d may do His will with me and mine."

"That is always best," said the minister.

Katie looked from one to the other.

"Come, grandfather," said she.

He went slowly out, touching the door and the walls to steady himself by, and when he went in to grannie, Katie softly shut the door. There was no one to tell what was said there between the two. If Mr Fleming had needed anything utterly to break his heart with loving shame, and thankfulness, and sorrow, the glad serenity and trust of his dear old wife would have done it. He put restraint upon himself lest he should excite her beyond her strength, but she smiled at him.

"Joy seldom does harm, and I am better, though I am but weak and f.e.c.kless. I'll soon mend now."

"And are you really better? I could almost find it in my heart to let you go to Him, nay, I canna say gladly, but G.o.d's will be done, whether you be to stay or go."

"Surely. And in His good time He'll take me, but no' just yet. You canna spare me yet."

The old man laughed a glad, tremulous laugh, but the tears were not very far from his eyes, and he patted gently the wrinkled hand, grown thin and limp.

"And you'll just go to your dinner with the minister and the bairns, and I'll rest myself a wee while, for, oh! I have little strength. But I'll soon have more."

After dinner Mr Maxwell came in to say a few words to Mrs Fleming, and "to give thanks," as she said, and then the old people were left alone together again. Whether they slept or not, grannie could not tell.

"But we didna think long, my dear," said she to Katie, with her faint, glad smile.

Mr Maxwell would have liked to lie all the afternoon on the orchard gra.s.s, with Davie and his mother sitting near, and Katie and the rest coming and going, as the work permitted, for it was sweet and restful there. But the old squire might wish to see him. He had visited him almost daily for a while, and so after a little he rose and said he must go.

"And grannie is better, but Miss Elizabeth will have no glad morning.

Oh, if we could comfort her," said Katie, gravely.

"And don't you think that all that has comforted you all to-day, will comfort her also?" said Mr Maxwell.

"Miss Elizabeth has always rejoiced with the joyful, and sympathised with those who were in sorrow," said Katie's mother.

"And that is why she is loved so dearly," said Katie.

"And she was ay fond of grannie," said Davie.

"She will be comforted," said the minister.

And Miss Betsey had her wish. One day her mother and Cynthia came down, and Ben went over for Mr Fleming, and old Mrs Wainwright, and Deacon Stone, and two or three others, and the minister, and they all remembered their Lord together. The "cup of blessing" was pa.s.sed from the trembling hands of Mr Fleming to the hands of Jacob Holt, which trembled also, and so the very last drop of bitterness pa.s.sed out of the old man's heart forever.

The end was drawing near now, and the old squire, looking glad and solemn too, held his daughter's hand, and welcomed them all by name as they came, and bade them farewell as they went away, "hoping to see them again," he said, but knowing, as did they all, that it must be on "the other side." Mr Fleming stayed when the others went away, and Elizabeth gave him her seat by her father for a little while. They had not much to say to one another. In all their intercourse the squire had been the talker, but he was past all that now. But he was not past noticing the peaceful look that had already come to the face of his friend.

"You feel better, don't you? It has done you good?" meaning doubtless the communion they had enjoyed together with their Lord and Master.

Mr Fleming hardly knew what he meant, but he said gently, "Ay, it has done me good."

For a moment it came into his thoughts to speak to the squire about the letter, and the joy it had brought to him at last. But he was tired and his thoughts were beginning to wander, and he doubted whether he could make him understand.

"He'll ken where he is going," said he to himself, but to the dying man he said nothing but "Fare ye well; and the Lord be with you in the valley." And then he went away.

But not without a word from Elizabeth.

"Dear Mr Fleming," said she, holding his hand when they were at the door, "you must let me say how glad I am for you and for his mother."

"Ay, that you are, I am very sure."

"If only it had come--long ago," said Elizabeth.

A momentary shadow pa.s.sed over his face.

"Ay. It seems strange to us. There is only one thing sure--His time is best."

Then Elizabeth sent her love to Mrs Fleming and to Katie, and her mother, and then she touched with her lips the old man's furrowed cheek, and some who saw him leave his old friend's house could not but wonder at the peaceful brightness of his face that day.

There was another day of watching and waiting, and then a few days of silence in the darkened house, and then the old squire was laid in his grave with such marks of honour as his fellow-townsmen could give.

People from other towns, and from all the country round, came to Gershom that day, and many a kindly word was spoken of the dead, and many a tale told of good deeds done in secret, of friendly help and counsel given in time of need, and all agreed that a good man and true had gone to his rest from among them, and that not many like him were left behind.

And though all that great mult.i.tude could not see the open grave and Elizabeth and Clifton and Jacob at the head, and Betsey and her mother and Ben and all the rest standing near, no man left Gershom that day who had not heard how, when the first clods fell on the coffin-lid, and Jacob shuddered and grew white as death, old David Fleming, one of the bearers, went forward and gave him his arm to lean upon till the grave was filled and the last word spoken. Of course these strangers did not know all that this implied to both these men, but every one in Gershom knew and was glad for them both.

And then when all was over, and Mr Maxwell, in a voice that was not quite firm, had, in the name of the mourners, thanked the a.s.sembled friends for their presence and sympathy on the solemn occasion, Elizabeth and Clifton and Jacob went home with the feeling strong upon them that the old life was at an end forever, and it was truer for them all than either of them knew.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

BUSINESS.

It would have been no longer possible for Clifton Holt to refuse all active interest in the business that had hitherto been carried on by Jacob in the name of himself and father. The brothers had long known the arrangements made by their father with regard to the division of his property among his children after his death, and this division made it necessary that Clifton should give both time and pains to a right understanding of how affairs stood.

Elizabeth was to have the house in the village and the home farm, together with a certain sum of money, part of which was invested in the business. She was not to be a partner in the business. It would be wrong, her father said, at least it would be uncomfortable for her to be made in that way responsible for risks of which she knew nothing. If all should agree that her money should be retained in the business, then of course her brothers would give her the same security that they would give to any one else who intrusted property to them. The sum was a large one, but, had all things been going well with them during the last few years, not larger than was right as her share of her father's wealth.

For the rest, the business was to be equally in the hands of the two brothers, and the real estate equally divided between them. All this had been arranged at the time when Jacob was formally received as his father's partner. It was a just arrangement, giving the younger brother no undue advantage, though it might seem to do so, for Jacob had before that time spent a large part of the share of the property to which, according to Canadian law, he had a claim at his father's second marriage. He had acknowledged the arrangement to be just at the time it was made, and still acknowledged it, although the fact that his brother had not, as was expected, come to take his share of the work and risks of the business when he came of age might have given him some cause to complain.

He might have complained if all this time he had been prospering in his management of their affairs; but as it was, he said little, and allowed Clifton to come gradually to a knowledge of how it was with them.

Up to a late date Clifton's plan had been, either to remain as a sort of sleeping partner in the business, thus securing a certain income to himself without trouble; or to claim a division of the property, and take his share, leaving Jacob to carry on the business in his own name.

This was the course which his sister foresaw and feared, knowing that such a course must bring trouble and loss to them all.

But within the last few months Clifton's idea and plans had undergone a change. By the way in which he set himself to work, intent on mastering the details of the business in all its branches, it became evident that before many years were over he would stand fair to take his father's place as the first man in that part of the country.