Part 21 (1/2)

”Where am I?” he gasped; ”this is--this is--ay, where am I? Why, I'm home! I'm home!”

Immediately he jumped out of bed, and pulling up the blinds looked out upon the smoky town.

”Dear old Brunford, dear old Brunford,” he said; ”ay, this is a change!”

”Art 'a' got up, Tom?”

”Ay, mother.”

”Make haste, then, I'll have dinner ready for thee by the time thou'rt ready.”

”Ay, it's good to be home,” said Tom, and then he sighed. ”I wonder now, I wonder----” and then he sighed again.

”I mean to go to chapel to-day,” he said to his mother when he presently appeared.

”Chapel!” said his mother, ”I thought thou'd given up going to chapel.”

”I am going to-day, anyhow,” said Tom. ”It would be grand if you and father would come with me to-night.”

”Then us will,” said Ezekiel quietly.

That night Tom, together with his father and mother, found their way to the church which he had attended years before. Many eyes were upon him as he was shown into the pew. All the town had heard of Tom Pollard's return, but few expected to see him at church that night. For some time Tom was very self-conscious, and it is to be feared that he thought little of the service; more than once, too, he caught himself gazing furtively around the building, but he did not see the face he longed yet feared to see. Since his return he had asked no questions about Alice Lister, and neither his mother nor his father had volunteered any information about her.

”Well,” said Tom, ”I must drive her out of my mind. What a fool I was!”

How beautiful it was to be singing the old hymns again! The Sunday before he had been in Ypres, and instead of church bells he had heard the boom of guns; instead of the music of hymns, the shrieking of sh.e.l.ls; instead of the scenes of home, and the loved ones, were the blackened ruins of an ancient town which had been ruthlessly destroyed.

Oh, how Tom wished the War were over! How he dreaded the idea of going back again! Yet he knew he must go, knew that he and thousands of others must fight on, until those who had made war should be powerless to make it again.

Presently the service was over, and Tom made his way towards the vestibule of the church. Scores of hands were held out to him, hundreds of greetings were offered to him. Many congratulated him on his bravery, and on his distinction.

Then suddenly Tom's heart ceased to beat, for standing before him was Alice Lister.

Tom felt his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth. He could not speak, while Alice seemed almost as much wrought upon as he.

He looked around as if in expectation of seeing Harry Briarfield, but Harry was nowhere present. What did it mean?

Afterwards Tom wondered at his temerity; wondered that he should dare to speak to her at all. But some power which was stronger than himself compelled him to do so. He held out his hand to her.

”How are you, Alice?” he said.

Alice gave him her hand, but did not reply, save that her fingers trembled in his.

A thousand hopes, fancies, and fears flashed through his mind and heart; then Alice shyly lifted her eyes to his.

”May I walk home with you, Alice?” he stammered.

”Yes, if you will, Tom,” and the two walked away, side by side.

They walked up Liverpool Road together for some time without speaking a word. On every side the crowd pa.s.sed them, but Tom did not heed, his heart was too full for words, his mind too occupied with wild, turbulent fancies. Presently they pa.s.sed into a quiet lane where they were apparently alone.