Part 28 (1/2)
”Come and have a pipe and a gla.s.s of brandy and soda. You look awfully down in the mouth, Wilton.”
But Raymond pa.s.sed on, saying, ”Not to-day, thanks.”
”Oh, I say, are you in a great sc.r.a.pe? Don't be sulky, old fellow. Come along.”
”No,” Raymond said more decidedly; ”my sister is very ill, and I am going home.”
”Sister--which sister? the pretty one at Cannes?”
”No; my eldest sister. This is my way,” he said, glad to escape from what was, now at least, most uncongenial company.
When he reached Elm Cottage, Stevens met him.
”She is herself now, and she keeps asking for you.”
”I can't see her; it will kill me.”
”Don't talk like that, Master Raymond. Go to the dear lamb at once; she is asking for you every minute.”
Ah, what a sore pain is remorse! Raymond Wilton will never forget the sight of his sister as she lay before him, her hair--that beautiful, luxuriant hair--all gone, her large, pathetic, wistful eyes turned to him as he came in.
”Raymond, dear Raymond,” she whispered, ”I wanted to tell you how I love you.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'Raymond,' whispered Salome, 'I wanted to tell you how much I love you.'” _Page 230._]
He expected to hear something very different to this,--entreaty to be good; to begin life afresh; to give up all his selfish indulgence. But no; Salome had not strength for this; she could repeat only,--
”Dear Raymond, I love you; and the Lord Jesus loves you, and is quite ready to forgive all. Please ask him. Kiss me, Raymond, and let me see you kiss mother.”
He obeyed; and then, as he held his poor mother in a close embrace, Salome whispered,--
”I am happy now. Good-bye, Raymond; I can't talk any more.”
Who shall say what this love of the stricken child did for the wayward, sinning brother? It seemed to him the very reflection of the highest and greatest love of the all-loving One who loved _all_ unto death.
Raymond slowly left the room, walked as if in a dream to the silent, deserted sitting-room, and with sobs and tears prayed for forgiveness to Him who is ever pitiful and full of mercy--who welcomes back the wanderer with the fulness of forgiveness, seeing him even while yet a great way off, and _coming out to meet him_. I think He went forth to meet the poor sinful boy in the quiet of the spring evening; and He will lead him, blind as he is, by a way that he knows not.
Patient continuance in well-doing: how sure is the reward. If it tarry, wait for it. If the hope is deferred, and the heart sick, yet shall the faithful and patient ones know at last that the granted desire is as the tree of life.
CHAPTER XVII.
A DREAM.
Summer was in its first fresh beauty, and lilacs and hawthorns were filling the air with their fragrance. Laburnums waved their golden ta.s.sels in the soft breeze, and the blue skies of early June were like those which Lady Monroe said they had left behind them in the Riviera.
She had returned with Eva and Ada; and Mrs. Wilton had the pleasure of hearing from her that the plan had fully answered. Ada had been everything that Eva wanted as a companion, and Lady Monroe begged to keep her for the present till Salome was quite well again.
Dear little Salome! She had struggled through fever and pain, and was lying on this lovely afternoon by the open window of the little sitting-room at Elm Cottage,--a pale, faint, shadow-like Salome indeed, but with returning light in her beautiful eyes and a tinge of colour on her cheeks. Her legs were as yet all but useless; the cruel rheumatism had attacked them with terrible force; but it was easy for Stevens and Ruth to carry that little light figure downstairs, and every day now she came into the sitting-room, which was filled with flowers brought continually from Lady Monroe's conservatory by Eva and Ada.
On this particular June afternoon Salome was alone. Her mother had gone for a drive with Lady Monroe and Eva, while Ada was spending the day with Louise and Kate Wilton. Hans and Carl were now sent to a school for little boys in the neighbourhood, and were on this afternoon gone to watch the cricket at the college ground, where Reginald was distinguis.h.i.+ng himself and proving himself worthy of his Rugby training.