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Chapter XXXIII.

The evening was drawing to a close. The sun was about to retire to his rest; already he had lifted the mantle of his couch. Across the door of his bed chamber the screen had been drawn; and above and below that cloudy curtain, appeared the melting light. Beautiful golden and silver streaks were those joyful reflections as they strove to cover the blue dome above. Oh! ambitions artist, how these glorious colours mock thy power, and defy thee to paint upon thy canvas, and in thy writings, what the Master Painter paints upon, and in herself. We refused to describe the Dawn once. Why? Because the spiritual lessons it taught beggared our mortal expression. We could find no language save in that of Eternity's stillness. And, lo! here we have a Sunset, and the same weird spell bewitches us. But the glory is not sudden; we have grown used to the light during the day, therefore we can look up and muse on the wonders of Sunset. Vast and various are the phases of life which may be compared to, or illustrated by, the retiring sun. And his moods, as he retires to rest, afford ample scope for the imaginative mind. At one time, after having traversed the full length of his day's circuit in one steady unscreened blaze, he might pass into his quiet bed chamber with all the pomp of his majesty and might; pass in, dressed in his regal robes, wearing his jewelled crown, and bearing in his hand his sceptre of radiant light. In such moods he is correlative with the death of the illustrious, who retire to rest robed in their hereditary garments of Fame, the crown page 390of Worth, studded with its sparkling jewel Consolation, upon their brow, and in their hands the sceptre of Kindly Thoughts. At another time he might retire as he had risen, and as he had continued his diurnal course; retire hidden behind a dark tempestuous sky. And in this manner he forms a striking simile to the thousands, and hundreds of thousands of beings, who are born, and who continue their earthly course, and who at last sink to rest, all behind the screen of Ordinary Vocation; and who, according to the opinion of the sage, are unworthy of a pageantry. But he might pass away as he is passing to-night; pass away with his face concealed behind a small grey cloud, fringed with gold. In the morning he had risen clearly and brightly, and his appearance gave promise of a beautiful day. Toward noon the sky became dull and heavy, and the threatening clouds spread like an unwelcome sheet between sun and earth. Then as the noon passed, and the evening drew near, the sunlight reappeared, the sun himself remaining behind his shadowy shroud. Ere he sank to rest he suffered a glimpse of his outer rim to be seen. Thus it is with many an earthly pilgrim. The dawn breaks, and the appearances and circumstances give promise of a beautiful life of prosperity and usefulness. But soon the brilliancy is veiled by failings and short-comings. The onlookers, ever ready to mount into the judgment-seat, turn away disappointed, declaring the life lost. Then, as evening approaches, the reflection of that once bright light reappears, proving that the light was always there, though for a short time concealed. Now, as if offended at the mistrust of his fellow men, that light keeps its greater grandeur in ambush, behind a small grey cloud, the remains of its former failings. We plead forgiveness, and to show its perfect reconciliation, that life, ere it sinks to rest, lifts the corner of its concealment, and gives us a glimpse of its joyful triumphant entry. page 391And, ah! its greater glory, its more majestic pageantry, is reserved for the awakening Dawn.

Such were the thoughts that filled the young girl's mind as she stood bare headed in the quiet country garden, watching the fast-fading sunset; and as we stand in the ether above, and turn our eyes upon her, our thoughts assume a different character. Among the flowers and shrubs which are the offshoots of flowers and shrubs planted and tended by her father, she, his own offshoot, stands; and back to our minds floats the words "We run the same course which our fathers have run." And ever and anon as she gazes at the sweet forget-me-nots, she stoops and presses her lips to their velvety petals, while her hands wander caressingly down their stalks and over their soft green leaves. "Dear loving creatures," she murmurs. "They know thee not who say that thou art silent and unsympathetic. Dost thou not respond to my embrace by the returning pressure of thy rosy lips? Who can say those lips are mute, and know not the language of our souls? And thy leaves, so soft and green; are they not seeking to touch the hem of my garments in earnest entreaty that I might see and understand? O Nature! Nature! why humble thyself to one so much thine inferior? Thou whisperest words from my father, and I hearken unto thee; tell me! is it because thou art a seedling as I am a seedling, that our language is made known to one another? And is the spirit that knits us together the sweet spirit of Consolation? Speak on! speak, for the purity of thy language reproaches the impurity of mine own, and our voiceless intercourse will teach me to use thy idioms." But now all traces of sunset had left the sky, and the soft mystic twilight was creeping round with solemn noiseless steps. "Father," she cried, lifting her head from its lowly incline, and standing up in the attitude of a privileged supplicant; while her eyes page 392gazed beyond, into the infinite space, where none but the favoured view. "Father! in that shadowy land, which to thee is bright and radiant, art thou looking down upon thy child? And dost thou know the emotions of her heart?"

Then a soft wave of noiseless rushing filled the air, and passed over her entranced being. It came from a bright Beyond, and it passed away to a Brighter Yonder; and the only darkness which remained was the sealed eyes of sealed mortality. "O, father!" breathed his child. "I fear this life no longer, death I have conquered long ago. Henceforth we, you and I, my father, live in undivided unity. Heavenly Father, I thank Thee for this knowledge of my father's abiding watchfulness." A shuffling step is heard coming along the gravelled path; a bent form pauses before the ethereal gazer; a voice like the last strains of a worn out organ, breaks through the spell, and brings the superanalling back to the earthling.

"Missie Main! Ha'e ye nae word for a' auld servant? It's richt gled I am tae see ye, no' but that ye're looking strange; ye're no sae puky as ye used tae be, an' I wadna hae known ye, bit Missis she tauld me ye were in the gardin. Hooty tooty! lassie; dinna svrangle the heed o' me." For Nellie had sprang forward, and seizing his hand, was raining kisses down upon his grissly weather beaten face.

"John, dear John, is it really you? How glad I am to see your good old face again." In her ecstacy, Nellie forgot all about decorum; forgot all about the dignity required of a woman; she only remembered that it was dear old John; the much tormented, and many times laughed at John; the John of all her girlhood's caprices, and the faithful John of her father.

It is a proved fact, that in order to be able to respond to an emergency at a critical moment, the life must be built page 393up by continual perseverance. But there is a converse to this fact which has also been proved, namely:—On such occasions as above mentioned, all the perseverance ever yet practised on an impulsive nature, has not the power to quench an emotional display. Though for two years Nellie had studied, and with credit passed, the highest degrees of that science known as Self Composure; yet she would become deeply agitated at the sight of an old wrinkled face, and at the sound of a hard solecistic voice.

When she had gained her equilibrium, and had given the man room to breathe, and time to answer the volley of questions hurled at him in one disorderly heap, he explained how he came to be on the old farm. "I couldna leave the auld place," said he, in his peculiarly pronounced language. "I dinna get muckle more nor my keep; but I am satisfied. An auld man like me dinna want muckle. Mr. Watson be very kind, and the misses is a grand woman; but mony's the time I would be under the auld master agin, though there were times he would hae ye work purty hard."

"It was all for our good, John," answered the girl, turning to retrace her steps to the dear old house. "But we did not know, and perhaps at that time did not want to understand."

That evening, to please Nellie, Mrs. "Watson brought John into the family circle. At the dinner table he occupied the honoured seat beside his old master's daughter; and as he perched himself, half monkey fashion, on the edge of the chair, he declared in his funny jovial manner, "that it was not often he got into Heaven, but now that he was in, by the holy ghost of Mahommed! he intended to enjoy himself." He not only carried out his declaration to the very letter, but he made everyone else a partaker of his enjoyment. What with his queer Scotch sayings, his queerer grimaces, and his comic, half tragic, attitudes, he kept the whole company in a state of continued explosion.

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After dinner, they all repaired to the drawing-room, and here John rose to the height of his glory. He revelled in his half-forgotten witcheries; he became transported by his recitations and songs; and he threatened to sink into oblivion if his audience did not encore him. The mirth reached its highest at the extraordinary rendering of "My Pretty Jane." This item was by request, for had John been allowed his own way, the audience would have had to listen to "Highland Mary," "Annie Laurie," &c., the whole evening. Up rose John (by the way, his name was really not John, but we have christened him such for convenience sake. One could hardly say Wallace Robert Burns Bruce whenever they wished to speak of him). Well, as I was saying, up rose John. All music had to cease when he was on the boards; and into the centre of the room he gravely walked. Then throwing back his head until his sandy-grey bearded chin stood almost perpendicular, and stretching out his two hands, which quivered and shook in his endeavour to play his imaginary accompaniment on space, he commenced his wonderful song And it was a wonderful song; and a wonderful width was his mouth when he attempted to scale the highest notes. I am sure there was room for the exit of half a dozen "Pretty Janes," and for the entrance of half a dozen more (songs I mean). To make up for the extra stretch of his vocal organs, John's eyes were firmly closed, and not once during the whole song did he open them. This was fortunate, for had it been otherwise he would have become aware of a rather unpleasant sensation. One of the young mischievous Watson boys (and I believe this was why he was so loud in his demand for that particular song), rose from his seat behind the door, and giving Nellie a roguish wink, seized a lighted candle, held it over the extended jaws, and solemnly peered down into the cavity from which the seraphic strains emanated. page 395The company collapsed, and soon the entertainment broke up.

Harry Watson afterwards explained that he was trying to see what John had had for his supper; "For," said he, "Willie Nash says that when Old John opens his mouth, the whole township knows the different meats he gobbled up the night before." "It is quite true," added Master Harry, seriously. "I saw several pieces of cake, some bread and butter, and an unlimited quantity of tea." But the young rogue had watched John eat his supper, therefore knew exactly what to say. As punishment for his impertinence, he was chased out of the kitchen by Nellie, who declared she would not allow the poor old man to be spoken of in that disrespectful manner. And Harry laughingly kissed his hand to her in defiance as he rode off to school.

They were happy peaceful days Nellie spent in the country, and many times she lived them over again when she returned to town. One day she rode over to see Mrs. and Mr. Alen, and although Mrs. Watson would not spare her visitor more than a day with them, she promised to return when things were more settled, and with that Mrs. Alen had to be satisfied. In the evening of her return, she questioned Mr. Watson about Eva Evans' father, and learned little more than she already knew, namely, that he was a quiet reticent man, possessing a station on the West Coast. But what filled her with sadness was the manner of his death. He had been found lying, cruelly butchered, on the road leading from his home to the township. When he was carried home it was discovered that life was not extinct; but he regained his speech only to leave a few parting injunctions with his daughter. "No one knew for certain," added Mr. Watson, in conclusion. "But just about that time several desparadoes frequented the neighbourhood, and page 396their hands were not free from the stains of blood. Mr. Evans, we think, must have fallen into their murderous clutches. Who he was, and whence he came, we knew not, nor asked. He was a gentleman, and all his dealings were worthy of that title."