Sweetapple Cove Part 35

"Oh! My dear," she interrupted, "the explanation of obvious things is one of the most delightful privileges of the engaged state, and I won't interrupt you any more. I'm going to see the new Burton baby, and, by the way, here is a lot of stuff for Dr. Grant, that has been acc.u.mulating.

I suppose he may be allowed to show a faint interest in his mail, at least after his nurse leaves him. Good-by, you dear children."

She put a large bundle of papers and letters in John's lap, and went away, waving her hand cheerily. John didn't pay the slightest attention to his correspondence at first, for we began to discuss some plans we were making for a little house, but after a few moments he idly turned over the medical papers, and the pamphlets and circulars, and suddenly his eyes fell on a letter, that was addressed in big bold characters.

I knew at once that it was from that girl, and a little shudder came over me. I rose and walked away towards Frenchy's child, who was now well and playing with a long-suffering woolly pup, and began to talk to him. But all the time I was watching and listening. I suppose one can't help doing such things. Then I heard him calling me, and I hurried back.

He held the letter out to me.

"Read it, Helen?" he asked me.

"Please," I said, "just tell me about it. It is her own letter, John, and meant for you only."

"She tells me I have been the best friend a girl ever had, and that if she gives me pain it will not be without a pang on her own part. She says that the object of her being on earth is now revealed to her."

"Yes," I answered, "and then...."

"Then she announces her coming marriage with Dr. Farquhar, the man who has been in charge of the medical work of the Settlement."

"You must write and tell her how happy you are to hear the good news, John, and you must tell her our plans. And I want to talk very seriously to you, John."

"What is it, dear?" he asked.

"Well," I said, "I want to say that you have been very bad, because you didn't believe me, or you only believed a little bit, when I told you she didn't love you. Now I expect you to have a great deal of respect for my opinions, in future."

He promised, and said I was perfectly wonderful, and that he was the happiest man in the world. And then, Aunt Jennie, we sat again ever so long without saying more than a few words. And the stillness was like bars of a wonderful music whose notes one can't remember but which leaves in one's heart an impression of glorious melody. One can't write of such things, for I am sure that ink never flowed from a pen able really to describe that which lies in the hearts of men and women at such times.

And then Daddy came, smiling all over, for he spoke the truth indeed when he said my happiness was his only concern. He's the dearest Daddy in all the world.

CHAPTER XXII

Dr. _Johnson to Mrs. Charlotte Johnson_

_Dearest Mother_:

You will rejoice to know that your son is now a happy man. At one time the wrecking of the old _Chandernagore_ bade fair to make me despair of ever being able to justify the sacrifices you underwent to help me with my education. And now things look so bright and splendid that I can scarcely believe the marvelous luck that has befallen me.

Dr. Grant is strong and well again. He is a fine fellow who has been doing great work in this place, and I have actually been chosen to continue it during his absence of a few months. Mr. Jelliffe and he sent for me, a few days ago, after I returned from a trip to a near outport to see a sick woman, and asked me if I were willing to undertake it. They also said that they were about to build a small hospital here, and that there would doubtless be work enough for two men during most of the year.

They offered me a steady compensation sufficient to mean surcease from worry and an opportunity to take a little care of you at last. And the best part of it all lies in the character of the work, which is a fine one, and in the delightful people I shall be a.s.sociated with. Mrs.

Barnett is a woman whom you would dearly love, and her husband is of the pick of men. Dr. Grant will spend the greater part of the year here, and Sweetapple Cove is bustling with the changes that are taking place. A big schooner-load of lumber has just arrived, with a few workmen, to begin at once rearing the new hospital and the house the Grants are to build for themselves.

I am alone now, for the beautiful _s...o...b..rd_ has gone away, followed by fervent wishes for her safe journey home.

Very early yesterday little two-masted smacks began to arrive from neighboring outports, and the tiny harbor was crowded with them. They fluttered out all their poor little bits of bunting, gaily, and the visitors wore their best clothes. I doubt if so great a holiday ever took place before in this part of the island. The _s...o...b..rd_, from bowsprit to topmasts, and down again to the end of the long main-boom, was bright with waving signals and pennants.

The people were crowding on the little road, to see the bride come forth on the arm of her father. Visions had come to me of her all in white, as all brides were clad whom I have ever seen before. But she appeared in her garments of every day, as if she needed no finery to make her more beautiful in the eyes of all. You should have seen her, little mother! A wonderful woman indeed, straight and fairly tall, with frank, friendly eyes that always look straight at one. Her voice has also notes that can be of exquisite tenderness, as I heard them in that poor little hut of Frenchy's. Her hair is a great, fine, chestnut ma.s.s in which are blended the most perfect hues of auburns and rich browns. And withal she is exquisitely simple in her manner, utterly unaffected, and her laughter carries joy with it into the hearts of others. The people here simply adore her, from the youngest child to the most tottering old dame. And I am sure they love her not only for herself but also in grat.i.tude for the happiness she is bestowing upon a man who has long ago made his way into their hearts.

She had insisted upon being married in this humble village, among the fishermen who had learnt to cherish her and her husband-to-be, and when we reached the little church it was already full to overflowing. People stood on tiptoe at the open windows, and crowded at the door. We all stood when she arrived with Mr. Jelliffe, and she walked to the little altar with smiles and friendly nods to all.

And then the service began, and Mr. Barnett was manifestly pale with emotion. At first his voice was just the least bit husky, but soon it cleared as the majestic words fell from his lips.

I sat near Mrs. Barnett, who wept a little. I could understand this, mother, for there was something that moved one's heart in the beholding of that man and that woman, who had never given others aught but the best of themselves, preparing to continue hand in hand to make the world more beautiful for others.

It was over very soon and the two walked down the aisle. Old Sammy rushed out and waved his arms frantically towards the cove, whereupon the little bra.s.s gun boomed and the flag saluted, as if the _s...o...b..rd_ also thrilled with the general rejoicing.

Dr. Grant and his wife stepped out into the road, which pa.s.ses by the door of the little church. The wedding reception was held there, for the Cove has no walls capable of holding all their friends. Mrs. Barnett, who had come out upon my arm, was the first to kiss the bride, but other women were thus favored, even poor decrepit old things in whose houses she had carried the sunshine of her presence.

Susie Sweetapple, worthy descendant of the earliest settler, stood modestly to one side, with a very red nose, for she had been weeping copiously.

"Are you not going to kiss me also, Susie?" asked her mistress.

The little servant came forth, with shining red eyes showing utmost delight, and was kissed affectionately. When she retired, to make room for others, I heard her speaking to her old mother.

"Belike I'll not be washin' me face fer a month now. I'll not be wantin'

ter scrub that kiss away."

Then I noticed that the bride was searching the crowd, and appeared to be disappointed because some one was missing! Finally she discovered that Frenchman Yves, who watched so endlessly and devotedly for days and days, and beckoned to him.

He came forward, timidly, and the glorious young woman stretched out her hands to him. His own trembled as he took them.

"_La Sainte Vierge vous benisse_" he said.

She thanked him, sweetly, as she does all things, and lifted his little boy up in her arms, and kissed him, tenderly.

"_Je vous aime_" declared the little chap.

"What's th' laddie sayin'?" a man asked me.

"He says he loves her," I answered.

"We all does that," he cried. "We all loves every hair o' th' heads o'

they."

Finally the crowd moved down towards the cove. The flakes that had been deserted, that morning, became tenanted again by an eager crowd, and on the sharply slanted roofs of the little fish-houses some boys secured precarious perches.

The yacht had been warped to the little dock, and there was a gangplank over which our three dear friends went on board. There was a good deal more of fervent handshaking, and the plank was withdrawn. The siren shrieked its farewell as the ship began to move, and the little gun saluted the Cove.

She moved out, slowly increasing her speed, and her great white wings began to unfold since, once outside, the breeze alone would carry them.

On the rocks at the entrance stood men with heavy sealing guns, whose crashing detonations thundered a farewell. The bits of bunting ran up and down the masts of the little schooners at anchor, and everywhere gaily colored handkerchiefs were fluttering.

And so she headed out into the open sea, growing dimmer in the haze of the glorious day, until she pa.s.sed out of our vision, bearing away the love and blessings of Sweetapple Cove.

THE END