Bart Ridgeley Part 42

"'I am sure you are very kind,' said he, 'and it is very pleasant to hear it said. I want to see Mrs. Markham, and in some way say how grateful I am for her kind expressions towards me, and she and--and you all, have been very kind to my poor dear mother for the past year.'

"'You would not let us be kind to you,' said I.

"'No. How could I?' he answered.

"'I don't know,'said I. 'I only hope now that there may be no more misunderstandings; that you will now let us--will give Julia an opportunity, at least to express her grat.i.tude to you, and that we may all unite in so doing.'

"He was silent a moment, and then went on as if thinking aloud:

"'Julia! Good Heavens! how can I ever meet her!--Pardon me; I mean Miss Markham. I shall certainly call upon the ladies at a very early day,' he said, coldly. 'The fact is, Judge Markham,' continued he, 'I have been under a little strain, and I am not used to it. I come back here near home, and see so many old Newbury people, who make me forget how they used to dislike me, and all the old, and all the more recent things, come back upon me so strongly, and I find I am as weak and boyish and foolish as ever.'

"He did not say much more--he finally asked about you, and after much hesitation, about Julia. It is so easy to see that his heart is full of her, that I could not help feeling almost wretched for him. I then asked him when he was going to Newbury. He thought of going to-morrow in the stage, but said some parties wanted to see him Friday evening.

He has finally consented to wait and ride down with us on Sat.u.r.day, after the term closes.

"Now, my dear wife, come and bring Julia, if you think it best. I confess I wish that they might meet at an early day--but be governed by your better judgment in this--and you will show her this letter of course.

"Ever, with love and kisses to you both,

EDWARD."

"Mother," she said afterwards, "let me suggest that you send up a carriage to-morrow evening, which Papa Judge may take as an invitation to come early on Sat.u.r.day morning. If Mr. Ridgeley sees me, had he not better find me in my mother's and father's house?"

"_If_ he sees you, Julia?"

"Of course if he wishes to, he will."

And she was not conversational, and wandered about, and if possible would have been a little pettish.

"Are you not glad, Julia, that he has acquitted himself so well? He seems to have carried the Court and jury and all by storm."

"Of course he did. Does that surprise you? But it is all so stupid, staying there to try that pokey old case."

"Julia, what under the sun is the matter?" looking at her in surprise.

The girl turned and knelt by her mother, and laid her face down in her lap, and burst into violent sobbings.

On the morrow Julia arose, sweet and composed, with the old light in her eyes, and her wonted color coming and going with the mysterious emotions within. She was almost gay and joyous at breakfast, and then grew fitful and restless, and then became pensive again.

The day was a marvel of the forward spring, and the sun filled the whole heavens with its wondrous light. The blue bird called down in his flight, with his trill of gladness, and the robins flooded the leafless trees and the lawn with gushes of purest melody. Julia could not remain in the house; she could not remain anywhere; and as the morning deepened, she took a sudden resolution and ordered Prince to be saddled at once.

"Mother," said she, "I have the whole of this long, long day. I must gallop off through the woods, around to Wilder's. I haven't been there since last fall; and then I will come around by Mrs. Ridgeley's and tell her, and so home. Don't gay a word, mother; I must go. I cannot stay here. I'll be back in good time."

So mounting Prince she bounded off. When she felt herself going with the springy, elastic leap of her splendid steed, she thought she had found what she most wanted--to go to that little blessed nook of shelter and repose under the rocks by the running stream, in the sun. Something seemed to call her, and the day, the rapid motion, the exhilaration of the atmosphere, as she dashed through it, softened her excitement, and a calm, elevated, half-religious extasy possessed her; and the sky and air, and brown, desolate earth, just warming with the April sun, all glowed with hope. How near to her seemed Heaven and all holy, sweet influences; and the centre of it all was one radiant, beautiful face, looking with sad, wistful eyes to her for love and life which she so wanted to give. She felt and knew that to this one in some way, she would be fully revealed, and misconception and absence and doubt would vanish. She should meet him, but just how he would look, or what he would say, or how she should or could answer him, she could not shadow out, and would not try. All that, she was sure, would take care of itself, and he would know and understand her finally.

Prince seemed fully to appreciate the day, and to be inspired with its subtle and exhilarating elixir; but after a mile or two of over-spirit, he sobered down into his long, easy, springy, untiring gallop. They pa.s.sed the fields and went along the hard and dry highway, till she reached the diverging trail that struck off through the woods toward the settlement on the other side, the nearest house of which was Wilder's.

On she went among the trees, past recently deserted sugar camps, away from human habitations, into and through the heart of the forest, joyous and glad in her beauty and young life and hope, and happy thoughts; and finally she came to the creek; here she drew up her still fresh horse, and rode slowly through its clear, rapid waters, and turned down on its other bank. How glad it seemed, gurgling and rippling, and swirling, with liquid music and motion! Slowly she rode down and with a half timid feeling, as somehow doubting if she would not return. But it was all silent and quiet; the suns.h.i.+ne and the voice of the stream seemed to re-a.s.sure her, and the strange feeling pa.s.sed away, as she entered the little nook so dear to her memory.

How silent and empty it was, in the rich, bright light of the mid-forenoon! She dismounted, and taking her skirt upon her arm, was about to step under the rude shed, with the thought of the birds who had reared their young there the year before, when Prince lifted his head with a forward movement of his ears, and turning her eyes down the stream, they fell upon Barton, who had just pa.s.sed around the lower angle of the rocks, and paused in speechless surprise, within a few feet of her.

With a little cry of joy, she threw out her hands and sprang towards him. Her forgotten skirt tripped her, and she would have fallen, but the quick arms of Barton were about her, and for an exquisite moment she abandoned herself fully to him.

"Oh, Arthur, you have come to me!"

Their lips found each other, the great ma.s.s of dark brown hair almost overflowed the light brown curls, and their glad tears mingled.

"Julia! I am alive--awake! and you are in my arms! Your kiss has been on my lips! You love me!"

"With my whole heart and soul!"

"Oh, how blessed to die at this moment!" murmured Bart.

"Would it not be more blessed to live, love?" she whispered.

"And you have always loved me?"

"Always--there--there!" with a touch of her lips at each word.

"I thought--"

"I know you did. You shall never, never think again--there!"

She withdrew from his arms, and adjusted her skirt, and stood by him in her wondrous beauty, radiant with the great happiness that filled her heart.

Barton was still confused, and looked with eyes wide open with amazement, partly at seeing her at all, partly at her marvellous beauty, which to him was seraphic, and more and most of all, at the revelation of her great love.

"Oh Julia! How was this? how is this--this coming of Heaven to me; this marvel of your love?"

"Did you really think, Arthur, that I had no eyes; that I had no ears; that I had no woman's heart? How could you think so meanly of me, and so meanly of yourself?"

"But you so scorned me."

"Hus.h.!.+ that was your word: it was not true; you were even then in my foolish girl's heart. Don't speak of that to me now; surely you must have known that that was all a mistake."

"And you always loved me? How wonderful that we should meet here and to-day!" he said, unable to take his eyes from her.

"You know the place and remember the day? Is it more marvellous, than that we should have been here before? I never knew how you found me then, and I am as much puzzled about your being here now. Father wrote us that you would come down with him to-morrow."

"Tell me how _you_ come to be here, to-day, of all the things in the world?" said Bart.

"Am I to tell first? Well, you see, I wanted to see Mrs. Wilder and Rose; I have not been to their house since last fall, and so, having nothing else to do, I rode over, and just thought we would come down here--didn't we, Prince?"

"And so you call him Prince?" said Bart, who had recognized the horse.

"Yes, and I will sometime tell you why, if you will tell me how you came here to-day."

"I came on purpose, because I wanted to. Because you had hallowed the place, I knew that I should find your haunting presence in it. Oh, when that case was over, and I got out, all the old dreams, and visions, and memories, and voices came to me. And your face never absent, not with the old look of scorn that it seemed to wear, but sweet, and half reproachful, haunted me, and made me half believe what poor Henry's smitten love said to me of you, when I told her my story."

"Bless her," murmured Julia.