Part 45 (1/2)

”Oh, bother the world!” he said. ”I don't want the world. I only want my wife.”

Jane put her arms around him. Ah, what a boy he was in some ways! How full of light-hearted, irrepressible, essential youth. Just then she felt so much older than he; but how little that mattered. The better could she wrap him round with the greatness of her tenderness; s.h.i.+eld him from every jar or disillusion; and help him to make the most of his great gifts.

”I know, darling,” she said. ”And you have her. She is just ALL YOURS.

But think of the wonderful future. Thank G.o.d, I know enough of the technical part, to write the scores of your compositions. And, Garth,--fancy going together to n.o.ble cathedrals, and hearing your anthems sung; and to concerts where the most perfect voices in the world will be doing their utmost adequately to render your songs. Fancy thrilling hearts with pure harmony, stirring souls with tone-pictures; just as before you used to awaken in us all, by your wonderful paintings, an appreciation and comprehension of beauty.”

Garth raised his head. ”Is it really as good as that, Jane?” he said.

”Dear,” answered Jane, earnestly, ”I can only tell you, that when you sang it first, and I had not the faintest idea it was yours, I said to myself: 'It is the most beautiful thing I ever heard.'”

”I am glad,” said Garth, simply. ”And now, let's talk of something else. Oh, I say, Jane! The present is too wonderful, to leave any possible room for thoughts about the future. Do talk about the present.”

Jane smiled; and it was the smile of ”The Wife”--mysterious; compa.s.sionate; tender; self-surrendering. She leaned over him, and rested her cheek upon his head.

”Yes, darling. We will talk of this very moment, if you wish. You begin.”

”Look at the house, and describe it to me, as you see it in the moonlight.”

”Very grey, and calm, and restful-looking. And so home-like, Garthie.”

”Are there lights in the windows?”

”Yes. The library lights are just as we left them. The French window is standing wide open. The pedestal lamp, under a crimson silk shade, looks very pretty from here, shedding a warm glow over the interior.

Then, I can see one candle in the dining-room. I think Simpson is putting away silver.”

”Any others, Jane?”

”Yes, darling. There is a light in the Oriel chamber. I can see Margery moving to and fro. She seems to be arranging my things, and giving final touches. There is also a light in your room, next door. Ah, now she has gone through. I see her standing and looking round to make sure all is right. Dear faithful old heart! Garth, how sweet it is to be at home to-day; served and tended by those who really love us.”

”I am so glad you feel that,” said Garth. ”I half feared you might regret not having an ordinary honeymoon--And yet, no! I wasn't really afraid of that, or of anything. Just, together at last, was all we wanted. Wasn't it, my wife?”

”All.”

A clock in the house struck nine.

”Dear old clock,” said Garth, softly. ”I used to hear it strike nine, when I was a little chap in my crib, trying to keep awake until my mother rustled past; and went into her room. The door between her room and mine used to stand ajar, and I could see her candle appear in a long streak upon my ceiling. When I saw that streak, I fell asleep immediately. It was such a comfort to know she was there; and would not go down again. Jane, do you like the Oriel chamber?”

”Yes, dear. It is a lovely room; and very sacred because it was hers.