Mulock_A_Life_for_a_Life.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
do it all over again. human love has its sacrifices
and its anguishes as well as its joys the one great lovo
of life has often most of all. , let those beware
who enter upon it lightly, or selfishly, or without having
counted its full cost.
" do not know if we shall be happy," said to -
ope, when she was cheering me with a future that may nev-
er come ; " only know that and have cast our lots
together, and that we shall love one another to the end."
in that strong love armed, lived otherwise, many
times that day, it would have seemed easier to have died.
went, as usual, to bid papa good-night, could
hardly stand. looked at me suspiciously.
" -night, my dear. -the-by, , shall want
you to drive me to the to-morrow."
" will do it." fell on his breast
with a pitiful cry. " bid me good-by! say
4 bless you,' just once, father."
breathed hard. " thought so. it to be to-mor-
row ?"
"."
"?"
told him.
a few minutes papa let me lie where was, patting
my shoulder softly, as one does a sobbing child ; then, still
gently, he put me away from him.
" had better end this, ; can not bear it.
me. -by."
" not one blessing ? , papa !"
father rose, and laid his hand solemnly on my head :
" have been a dutiful girl to me in all things save this,
and a good daughter makes a good wife. !
you go, bless you !"
as he closed the library door upon me thought
had taken my last look of my dear father.
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was only six o'clock in the morning when
took me to the station. saw us nobody knew.
man at the railway stopped us, and talked to
for full two minutes about his wife's illness two whole
minutes out of our last five.
sister would not bid me good-by, being determined,
she said, to see me again, either in or ,
before we sailed. had kept me up wonderfully, and
her last kiss was almost cheerful, or she made it seem so.
can still see her very pale, for she had been up since
daylight, but otherwise quiet and tearless, pacing the soli-
tary platform our two long shadows gliding together be-
fore us in the early morning sun. see her, even to
the last minute, standing with her hand on the carriage
door smiling.
" my love ; tell him know he
will take care of you. , child," turning round once
again with her " practical" look that knew so well, " re-
member, have written ' ' on your boxes.
, be sure that you alter the name. -by
nonsense, it is not really good-by."
, but it was. how many, many years ?
that dark, gloomy church, which a thundery
mist made darker and stiller, first saw again my dear .
. said, lest should be startled and shocked,
that it was only the sight of me which overcame him that
he was really better. so when, after the first few min-
utes, he asked rue, hesitatingly, " if did not find him much
altered ?" answered boldly, " ; that should soon get
accustomed to his gray hair ; besides, never remembered
him either particularly handsome or particularly young ;"
at which he smiled ; and then knew again my own !
and all things ceased to feel so mournfully strange.
went into one of the far pews, and tried on my
ring. his hands shook ! so much that all my trem-
bling passed away, and a great calm came over me. ,
had done right. had nobody but me.
we sat side by side, neither of us speaking a word,
until the pew-opener came to say the clergyman was ready.
were several other couples waiting to be married
at the same, time who had bridesmaids, and friends, and
fathers. vVe three walked up and took our places there
was no one to pay heed to us. saw the verger whisper
something to , to which he answered "," and the
2
394 .
old man came and stood behind . and me.
few other folk were dotted about in the pews, but only
noticed them as moving figures, and distinguished none.
service began, which indeed we both had last
heard at wedding, in our pretty church, all flower-
adorned, she looking so handsome and happy, with her sis-
ters near her, and her father to give her away. a mo-
ment felt very desolate; and hearing a pew door open
and a footstep come slowly up the aisle, trembled with a
vague fear that something might happen, something which
even at the last moment might part and me.
it did not ; heard him repeat the solemn promises
how dare any one make them lightly, or break them aft-
erward ? to " love, comfort, honor, and keep me, in sick-
ness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep me only
unto him, so long as we both should live" 1 felt that
also, out of the entire trust had in him, and the great
love bore him, could cheerfully forsake all other, father,
sisters, kindred, and friends, for him. were very dear
to me, and would be always ; but he was part of myself
my husband.
here let me relate a strange thing so unexpected
that and shall always feel it as a special blessing from
heaven to crown all our pain and send us forth on our new
'life in peace and joy. in the service came the ques-
tion, " giveth this woman, etc.," there was no answer,
and the silence went like a stab to my heart. minister,
thinking there was some mistake, repeated it again : "
giveth this woman to be married to this man ?"
" do."
was not a stranger's voice, but my dear father's.
# # ^# * * * *
husband had asked me where should best like to
go for our marriage journey. said to . 's.
grew much better there. seemed better from the very
hour when, papa having remained with us till our train
parted, we were for the first time left alone by our two
selves. expression ungrammatical enough to be quite
.worthy, would say, of his little lady, but people who
are married will understand what it means. did,
think, as we sat still, my head on his shoulder and my hand
between both his, watching the fields, trees, hills, and dales
fly past like changing shadows, never talking at all, nor
thinking much, except the glad thought came in spite of all
. 395
the bitterness of these good-bys that there was one good-
by which never need be said again. were married.
was delighted with . 's. " shall always
talk of our four days there, so dream-like at the time, yet
afterward become clear in remembrance down to the mi-
nutest particulars. sweetness of them will last us
through many a working hour, many an hour of care
such as we know must come, in ours as in all human lives.
are not afraid ; we are together.
last day in . 's was , and took
me to his own church, in which he and his
brother were brought up, and of which was to have
been a minister. his many wanderings it so happen-
ed that my husband had not heard the service for
many years, and he was much affected by it. too, when,
reading together the psalms at the end of his , he show-
ed me, silently, the name written in it .
psalm shall long remember it, with the tune it
was sung to which was strange to me, but knew it
well of old, and it had been a particular favorite with -
las. if spirit, freed from flesh, be every where, or,
if permitted, can go any where that it desires not very
far from us two, as we sat singing that , must have
been our brother .
" lovely is thy dwelling-place,
of hosts, to me !
tabernacles of thy grace,
pleasant, , they be !
thirsty soul longs vehemently,
, faints, thy courts to see ;
very heart and flesh cry out,
living , for thee
'd are they, in thy house who dwell,
ever give thee praise ;
'd is the man whose strength thou art,
whose heart are thy ways ;
, passing thorough 's vale,
do dig up wells ;
the rain that falleth down
pools with water fills.
they from strength unwearied go
forward unto strength,
in they appear
the at length."
! , when this life is ended, may we appear, even
there still together, my husband and !
396 .
to our plans, we did not see again,
nor , nor my dear father. was thought best
not, especially as in a lew years, at latest, we hope, will-
ing, to visit them all again, or perhaps even to settle in -
gland.
a single day spent at ,
went with us one sunshiny morning on board the
strainer, which lay so peacefully in the middle of the -
sey, just as if she were to lie there forever, instead of sail-
ing, and we with her, in one little half hour sailing far
away, far away, to a home we knew not, leaving the old
familiar faces and the old familiar land.
seemed doubly precious now, and beautiful even thu
sandy flats, that had so often told me about, along the
shore. saw him look thoughtfully toward them,
alter pointing out to me the places he knew, and where his |
former work had lain.
" is all over now," he said, half sadly. "
has happened as planned, or hoped, or "
" feared."
" . dear wife, no ! all has been for good.
is very good. shall find new work in a new coun-
try."
" too?"
smiled. " , she too. 'll work together, my
little lady !"
half hour was soon over the few last words soon
said. did not at all realize that we were away till
saw wave us good-by, and heard the sudden boom
of our farewell gun as the slipped off her mail tend-
er, and went steaming seaward alone fast, oh ! so fast.
sound of that gun, it must have nearly broken many
a heart many a time ! think it would have broken mine
had not, standing, close-clasped, by my husband's side,
looked up in his dear face, and read, as he in mine, that to
us, thus together, every where was . ...