An Unoficial Patriot Part 22

"Trying to see if I'm pretty, father?" she said saucily, lifting her mouth for a kiss.

"Pretty! pretty! Why, daughter of Babylon, the lilies of the field are not half so lovely--and Solomon, in all his glory--" He stepped back and folded his arms. Emma flung both little hands up to his cheeks in glee.

"Kiss me! oh, you dear old father! Solomon in all his glory never knew you--didn't have you for a father--and so that is where I have got the best of Solomon! Poor old Solomon, I wouldn't trade with him!" She ran laughing down the hall, and Katherine smiled up at her husband.

"What a dear girl she is! I am so glad for Roy--for all of us;"

she said. "It is easy and a pleasure to build on an addition to our air-castles for her."

Griffith bent over to kiss her. "Yes, G.o.d has been very good to us all the days of our lives, Katherine. The struggles have all been outside of the most sacred--of----" He hesitated as he recalled some of the struggles, and touched his lips to her hair where the gray was growing distinct. "But all those seem to be about over, now, and for us the dawn is here and the brilliant day is only just ahead. Ah, little wife, the sun will rise for us to-morrow on a day which shall have no conflict of soul before us. How happy we shall be when the other boys get home! It makes me feel young again only to think of it I I am going over to the College now. A business meeting of the trustees." He smiled back at her and went humming down the lawn: "Joy to the world, the Lord is come!"

Two hours later in the twilight, there was a confused scuffle of feet and babble of m.u.f.fled voices on the front porch. Katherine, ever on the alert for news from her absent sons, opened the door. A dark, repellent face--the face of an ascetic, cast in the mold of sorrow and soured by the action of time, was before her. She recognized the pastor of the church near by. "Sister Davenport," he said, "you had better step back.

We have sad news. We------ He is dead."

"Which one? Which one?" cried Katherine, "Howard or Beverly?" She was struggling to push by them out on to the porch. Roy rushed from the hallway and past the group.

"Great G.o.d! It is father! It is father!" he cried, and turned to s.h.i.+eld his mother from the sight. "Come back! Come back!" he said grasping her by the waist and trying to force her into a chair. He had, as we all have at such times, a vague idea of somehow saving her by gaining time.

The little group was staggering into the room and its load was laid upon the couch. Griffith Davenport was dead. The smile on the face was there still, but the poor brave heart would beat no more forever.

"Heart failure," some one said, "in the trustees' room."

"In the midst of life we are in death--" began the stem-faced ascetic as he took his place near Katherine. Roy had pushed her into a chair and stood holding her about the shoulders. Emma knelt before her with streaming eyes, looking into the set face. Little Margaret was weeping with fear. She had never before seen the face of death. She did not understand. She only knew that some terrible blow had fallen, and she clung to aunt Judy and wept.

"In the midst of life we are in death. The Lord giveth, and----"

"Oh, go away, go away!" moaned Katherine, as the monotonous voice and the tall form of the clergyman forced itself into her consciousness again. "Go away and leave me with my dead!" She was dry-eyed and staring. She sat like one in a dream. She had not reckoned upon _this_ when she had felt that she was ready for anything that should come--anything that could come to her in the future. She was too dazed to grasp or adjust anything now. She only knew that she must be alone.

"Go away! go away," she said looking up at Roy. He motioned the men and the minister out and closed and locked the door. When he returned to his mother's side her eyes were shut and her head was thrown back against the chair. There were no tears. He beckoned Judy to bring little Margaret, and he took his mother's arms and put them about the child, and his own were around both. His own eyes were streaming but hers were dry still.

"Mother," he said softly, "mother," She did not answer. Presently she opened her eyes and they fell upon the child in her arms.

"Poor fatherless child! Poor fatherless child!" she moaned, and the tears gushed forth, but her arms dropped slowly from Margaret's form, and she did not seem to want the child there. The streaming eyes traveled toward the couch and its silent occupant whose trials and struggles were indeed over at last. Oh, the irony of fate! No conflict of soul was before him, the dawn he had heralded--the brilliant day was come, was it not? Who was there to say? He was out of bondage at last--bondage to a conscience and a condition that tortured his brave, sensitive soul. The end of the sacrifice had come, but for what? To Katherine, as she gazed at him lying there in the gloom, it was dead sea-fruit indeed. She could not think. She only sat and stared, and was conscious of the dull dead pain--the worthlessness of all things.

Roy bent down and stroked her hair and kissed her. She did not seem to know. "Shall we go away, too? _All_ of us, mother? Would you rather be alone--with father?"

"Yes," she said feebly. "I will be alone always, alone now, always alone--alone!"

"No, no, mother, you will have _all_ of us--all--all--but him. We will----"

"Go away! go away, for a while," she said, and flung herself on her knees beside the couch. "Oh, Griffith, Griffith! What was it all for?

All our suffering and trials and hopes and life? What was it all for at last?" she moaned with her arms about his lifeless form. "What did it all mean? What was it all for, if _this_ is the end? Oh, Griffith, Griffith! what was the use? What was the use--with _this_ for the end! I felt so safe about you, darling, now that you were here! I did not even think of you! I did not fear it was you! Oh, Griffith, Griffith! this is the end of all things! This is the end! This is the end! I do not care what else comes--I do not care--I do not care! What is a country? What are sons to _me_ now? I do not care! I do not care! This is the end!"

Roy had heard her voice and her sobs. He opened the door softly and saw her with her head on the breast of her dead and the long sobbing sighs coming with the silences between.

He closed the door noiselessly again, and took his young wife in his arms. His voice was choked and broken.

"Emma, my darling, perhaps if you were to go to her--perhaps she would know that _you_ can understand--perhaps you could comfort her, if--"

"No, no, Roy, she would hate me if I were to go in there now--I who have you! I who am so happy and so blest! I know! I know, darling. Let her alone--for awhile. Oh, Roy. If it were you! If--if--it were I in there, with--with _you_ dead! Oh, Roy!"

They clung to each other in silence. Both understood. At last he said, holding his wife to his heaving breast: "And we cannot help her! Not even G.o.d can help her now--if there be a G.o.d--not even He can help her now! He would be too late to undo His own cruelty! Ah, love and death!

Love and death! how could a good G.o.d make both!"

The young wife shuddered and was silent. Her faith could not compa.s.s that situation. Love was too new and too strong. Doubt entered the door Love had swung open for these two, and took up his seat at their fireside forever.

An hour later, as they talked in whispers, Roy said: "To think that we all escaped in battle--and he from worse danger--and now!"

"Mos' Roy, honey, I wisht yoh'd take dis heah rabbit foot in dar t' Mis'

Kate! Lawsy, Mos' Roy, she gwine ter go outen her mine if she don'

look out. Aunt Judy don' need dis heah foot lack what Mis' Kate do now, honey. You des go in dar an' des kinder put hit inter Mis' Kate's pocket er somewheres. Hit ain't gwine ter do her no harhm--an' mebby hit mout do'er some kine er good, kase I gwine ter _gib_ hit to her tor keep fer all de time now."

Roy took the proffered gift quite gravely. "Thank you, aunt Judy, you were always good to us--always. I will take it in there after a while;"

he said, and the heroic old soul hobbled away, happy in her supreme sacrifice.

It was night.... To Katherine it seemed that the darkness must be eternal. Yet the sun rose on the morrow, and Life took up its threads and wove on another loom.

THE END.