Chapter XXXVI: For Ever After?

Twelve months later an old year was passing away in perfect calm. If it had been memorable for no other reason, the weather would have made it so, for no year had been more stormy or wrought more violently than this; now, however, as if it knew a late repentance, and had grown ashamed and sorry for the excesses of its hot youth, it seemed to be caring for nothing but to take and give the kiss of peace before it died. Nature was in a mood of profound sympathy. Enough snow had fallen to beautify all rugged and unlovely things; the wind had ceased its loud tones, and only spoke in whispers; the moon spread its light over the restful world, and the stars shone in the blue heavens like lamps of gold.

There were thousands of people waiting in the expectancy of faith and hope, who felt that an augury of good had come to them with that night.

There was a gathering of notable people in John Dallington’s house at Darentdale, who intended together to see the old year out and the new year in. Arthur Knight had issued an invitation to them all to meet at Brent House in London, the home of his boyhood, but if they had done so the meeting must have been without Margaret, for she declared that not for all the friends she had would she leave her baby, or run the risk of his taking cold on a journey, and therefore the meeting was at Darentdale, since Margaret’s absence was not to be tolerated.

It was a representative gathering, and Arthur Knight called it a “stock-taking supper,” for they had met, not only to see one another, but to consider their gains and losses. He was the first to arrive, and Dr. Stapleton came next. Then followed Mr. Collinson, known all over England now as the Children’s Pastor, because he had insisted that a minister’s first duty was to the young of the congregation. Mr. Stapleton, the builder, was also there; so was Mr. Emerson, the vicar of Darentdale; and also Miss Wentworth and Mary Wythburn, besides Mr. Whitwell and his daughter Tom, with several other friends and helpers, among them a man who was ready to give his life for Arthur Knight, a servant and companion, who always spoke of himself as “the boy who threw the stone at the Knight.” There were also one visitor from America and one from Germany.

Darentdale presented a different appearance from that which it revealed on the morning after its master had returned from his travels. There were now no leaves on the trees nor primroses in the woods; and yet, as he glanced over the scene, he thought it more lovely than ever. One reason was that he had kept his resolution and redeemed the land. It was a happy day to him, as well as to his uncle and cousin, when he paid off the mortgage which had always been a trouble to him. And the means by which he had been enabled to do this had in themselves been reasons of rejoicing. He had been quite determined not to use a penny of his wife’s money, even for so good an end. Equally determined was he that the labourers on his farm should not suffer because he had a debt to pay. The way out of his difficulty had been one proposed by his friend Knight, who had come to him one day with a proposition. “Since your land is so dear to you,” he said, “I do not ask you to sell it; but will you let me have a few fields on a long lease that I may plant a factory and some workmen’s houses upon it?”

Dallington was only too glad to do this. There was a waste piece of land that only grew gorse and bushes, and that land was now covered with pretty houses, of which Dallington was as proud as Knight.

The latter had conducted the American visitor over this place in the morning, and he wanted to talk of nothing else.

“Will you explain to me, Mr. Knight, what you mean by calling this new colony of yours a Missionary Settlement?” he asked.

“Certainly. It has been built wholly at the request of some of my Craighelbyl people, whose money is invested in it. They are men who have made the Welsh place a success, and who, happy in their new life, have not forgotten their old companions in London. They petitioned me to advance the money, and allow them to take it up in shares and manage it. It is really a co-operative concern, as the Craighelbyl place is fast becoming now. The factory is to produce second-class goods—that is, articles which are to be worth every penny asked for them, and warranted to wear, but without the finish, the polish, for which our other goods are—if you will excuse the egotism of a manufacturer—known all over the world. These men of mine are themselves conducting this factory, and every man whom they employ is one who has been rescued from drunkenness or some other wrongdoing. So, you see, it is more than a factory—it is a mission of usefulness. Every foreman or manager is pledged to patience and watchfulness. No one has been allowed to help in this matter who is not known to be a strong and consistent Christian man. Of course, they have had some disappointments. They told me to-day that already they have had to send to the Asylum for drunkenness as incurable six men and seven women; but they are hopeful that these will prove the only ones who need go; and that the workpeople, brought away from the temptations of London, will live sober and godly lives.”

“You have greatly solved the problem of the poor by taking them from the crowded centres of great cities.”

“Yes; I do not think we could have accomplished all that has been done excepting in this way. I know of more than four hundred manufacturers who have taken their people and their work away from big towns to little villages—where land is cheaper and the air is fresh—and there have helped them to begin life again under new conditions. In this way numbers become quite manageable. Every man, woman, and child is known to the master and the mistress, who are now awake to their responsibility, and understand that if they employ people it is their duty to look after them and care for them. I believe there is not a Christian man in England to-day who regards his _employés_ merely as hands to earn money for him.”

“Thank God!”

“Yes, indeed, we have reason to thank God. There has been a great awakening of the individual conscience in the Church.”

“We in America consider your latest liquor law rather severe.”

“We have had to be severe in order to be kind,” said Dr. Stapleton. “The Legislature was resolved to stamp out drunkenness at any cost; and I believe it is in a fair way to be accomplished now. We never required so few prisons as we do now; and it was a good idea to use them as refuges for drunkards, and compel every man or woman who had been thrice convicted of drunkenness to live in them.”

“This has been a marvellously executive year,” said Mr. Emerson. “It has been like a dream. Only a few years ago, and at every Christmas time there were numbers of men out of work, and some nearly starving, and now there is work for every man who likes to do it.”

“And, what is almost better still, every man has to work whether he likes it or not,” said Mr. Stapleton.

“You nearly had a revolution over that thing, though,” said the American. “The liberty of the subject was in danger.”

“Yes; only a Government that knew its own strength could have given such an excellent definition of liberty as ours has,” replied Mr. Whitwell. “Every man has liberty to do right, but no one has licence to do that which is evil.”

“But the happy change which has been brought about is not the work of the Government. It is the work of a united Church,” said Mr. Emerson. “That which has been accomplished might have been done long ago if the Church had known its power and done its duty.”

“You might have said if the Church had been Christian,” suggested Tom Whitwell.

“But no new thing has happened, nor has any new doctrine been preached,” said Knight. “The only reason of all the change is that we have come to believe that what was said in Nazareth eighteen centuries ago is true and possible. We were told all along that the merciful were blessed, that the pure in heart should see God, that those who hungered and thirsted after righteousness should be filled, and we have simply discovered that when Jesus gave His few plain directions regarding His kingdom He did not make impossible regulations. That is all.”

“Yes, that is all. But it is not a little.”

“The best of it is that the light is flooding Germany and America as well as England,” said the German guest.

“And,” replied Arthur Knight, “Canada has been blessed that it has such a son as Macdonald. How I wish he could have been with us to-night! He has been invited to deliver his message in all the States of America. What he has done for and in the Church of England only God knows. He has been a second Wesley, or a Church Spurgeon, or a modern St. Francis of Assisi. If he has not taught the people to love poverty, he has made them ashamed of being afraid of it; and the young men of the Church are being convinced that there are more desirable things than luxury, wealth, and idleness, and they are proving that there are no such noble men in the world as Englishmen who are Christians. Macdonald, too, has done much to bring about that Christian union to which we owe everything. A united Church has done what nothing else could do, and completely lifted the poor and the degraded out of their former position.”

“One wonders now,” said Mr. Collinson, “how it could be that so many of the best people never seemed to give any thought to their social and relative duties.”

“It is strange, indeed; but it can scarcely ever be the case again.”

“Oh, surely not, for very shame! So many have come to realise that their birth, and education, and wealth are given to them in trust for others, that they will not dare to use them entirely for themselves in the future.”

“It is something that at last goodness and kindness are fashionable,” said Miss Wentworth.

“Do you think there is any hope of a general disarmament?” inquired the German.

“There is a hope, certainly. The events of the past months have made a profound impression all over Europe and America. At present there is assuredly no nation with sufficient courage to declare war.”

“The people are disgusted with it; and now, as always, they form the final Court of Appeal, in Germany as everywhere else.”

“The best of it is that, so far as England is concerned, we have the boys on our side,” said Mr. Collinson. “There is no sign so hopeful as this. Your appeal, Mr. Knight, is bringing an abundant harvest of good.”

“Yes; our hope is in the boys. I watched a number of them in the gymnasium the other day, and a fine time they were having; but the difference that a year or two has made in their language and behaviour is very marked.”

“Mr. Collinson, the children’s minister of Granchester, has had much to do with that,” said Dr. Stapleton, “for he set the example, which other ministers have followed.”

“Ah, no!” said Mr. Collinson. “The originators of the Society of the Young Crusaders have accomplished the greatest thing of the generation. What fine fellows those boys are! They are the saviours of the nation! I declare to you, Stapleton, that I never see your nephew without feeling that I must take off my hat to him.”

“Yes; if the Society goes on manufacturing men of this kind we need have no fear for the future. They will finish what we begin. I am glad that the girls are being well looked after, too,” said Miss Wentworth.

“The great effort of the day on their behalf,” said Arthur Knight, “must be to make them domesticated and home-loving, for our young Crusaders are growing up with the idea that it is a disgrace to men to let their sisters and daughters work for a living. That is the duty and privilege of the male.”

“The boys of England are having a splendid training now,” said Mr. Whitwell. “Our plan—to put every boy that is born under the care of a good Christian woman (his mother, if possible, and, if not, some other)—is having excellent results.”

“It is only going back to the old idea of the Church,” said Mr. Emerson. “Every child is to have a godmother and godfather. All that is best in these modern improvements has come from our section of the Church.”

An amused silence which followed this remark was broken by a question, put by the German, in regard to Craighelbyl, which Mr. Knight answered.

“The cure for strikes everywhere is to give the people a direct share in the business. Craighelbyl has adopted this plan from the first. The people are buying their homes with the rent they pay. I gave them twenty years in which to do it; but they got dissatisfied, and considered that too long a time. Perhaps it was. I am getting recouped more quickly than I expected; and the time is short yet. So I gave in. We talked the matter over together, and I altered the term to fifteen years, at the end of which time, supposing the rents to be faithfully paid, every man’s house will be his own. But all men are not alike; some save money more quickly than others, even though they earn but little more; so I have had a sum fixed for every house, and if a man can pay it off in ten years, or even less, I have no objection. Some will be their own landlords in less than ten years, I believe.”

“And what will you do with the business?”

“If they are willing to unite together, and buy it as a co-operative affair, I shall sell it to them. I think they will, for the old jealousy which they used to feel towards each other, and the suspicion with which they regarded any man who seemed to be doing well, are less than they were.”

“Everybody who serves in any capacity is chosen by vote, is he not?” asked the American.

“Excepting myself, the minister, the schoolmaster, and the doctor. Eventually, perhaps,” said Knight with a smile, “they may choose individuals to fill our places, but at present we have been given to them, whether they liked us or not. In Craighelbyl the people are very keen and critical. We have fine men there. Hancourt has been a splendid manager of the business. I am sure he will always be triumphantly put back in his place, whatever new candidates are forthcoming. We have an Irishman for a doctor. The people pay no fees; they are doctored at my expense, because it is very much to my advantage that I should have healthy workpeople; and we have very little sickness, because the sanitary arrangements are good, and the first symptoms of disease are promptly seen and met.”

“Do they all go to church?” inquired the German.

“No; but a very large majority may be found there. They nearly all go to the Sunday-evening concert, held from eight to nine in the lecture-hall, where high-class sacred music is performed and sacred songs are sung.”

“Do you pay these musicians and singers?”

“No; they give their services very willingly, for they are our own people. Those who have musical taste and talent receive an education in music, as do those who are scientifically inclined in science.”

“I suppose all education is free?”

“Most certainly! You see, my point is that I shall be best served by an educated, contented, and healthy set of people. It is all a matter of self-interest.”

During the laugh that greeted this assertion Mrs. Dallington arose, and the ladies followed her into the drawing-room. Mary Wythburn sat before the organ with a book of Mendelssohn before her, and the other guests made themselves comfortable, to listen or think, as they pleased; but Margaret and Miss Whitwell sought a quiet corner for talk.

“Madge, how well and happy you look.”

“And I look as I am! Dear old Tom, I hope you will stay a long time now, for you do not know half the delightful things my baby can do. Your father must spare you. To have you here is just the crown to my joy.”

Margaret’s dark eyes were looking full into the face of her friend.

“I suppose you are quite busy again, Margaret,” asked Tom.

“Yes. There is plenty of work close at hand, and, you know, Tom, we always said that the thing that was nearest was the right thing to do.”

“But I am not so sure about that now as I used to be.”

“Oh, you may be certain it is right in the main! We are going to have ‘At Homes’ every Saturday afternoon and evening for the youths and the girls on the farm. I want the girls to copy my home as well as my dress. We shall make them welcome, and see that they have good times—in the drawing-room in the winter, and the garden in the summer; and we hope they will be having an object-lesson all the time. I used to think this sort of thing not altogether kind, and to be afraid that after experiencing the comfort and refinement of such a home as ours they would go back to their own abodes more discontented than ever. But I am not afraid of that now, for the contrasts are not so great; they can all have comfortable homes too.”

“Ah! Darentdale led the way.”

“It did; and I cannot tell you how thankful I am. It used to be shameful that people were compelled to live in such utter, hopeless misery as they did only a few years ago.”

“Are you going to have the youths and the girls at the same time, and together, at these ‘At Homes’ of yours?”

“Certainly; why not? Were they not intended to be together?”

“Your house will become a paradise of lovers, Margaret.”

“I only hope it may. I promise myself all sorts of pleasures in watching my friends making the discovery that they love and are beloved. Do you know, Miss Thomasine Grace Whitwell, that there is nothing in all the world half so well worth winning and having as that?”

“That? What?”

“You do not need me to tell you, I am sure.”

“You were always romantic, Margaret. Our friend, Mary Wythburn, does not agree with you.”

“I am afraid not.” And she glanced significantly towards Mary, and Dr. Stapleton, who had been the first to join her, and who had gone at once to turn over the leaves of the music-book. “You know, Tom, we are all committed to the task of securing the greatest happiness for the greatest number; and whoever makes herself and one other individual happy is doing something towards it.”

“Margaret, you are getting most disgracefully frivolous. I shall move to the piano. I am in danger here of being corrupted.”

Mary had left the instrument, and some one was asking, “Will not Miss Whitwell sing for us?”

“Miss Whitwell is not at all in a singing mood,” she said; but John Dallington added his request, and she was too good-natured to refuse. At first she played a sonata, then a march; but “A song! a song!” cried her friends, and she gave them a ditty of her own:

“There was, among the fields of earth,
A little patch of ground,
Which loving hearts held priceless,
And tender hands hedged round,—
A small brown patch, with naught to show,
Save a weed here and there;
But it proved a triumph-trophy, won
By kindliness and care.

“Frosts sealed it down in safe, close warmth
Till the cold passed away;
Then genial showers fell softly,
Then the sun shone all day,
And deft hands turned it over,
And treasures green and gold
With lavish generosity
Were given for it to hold.

“And through the summer, beautiful
Was that same patch of ground,
For fragrant flowers, and rich, ripe fruits,
And golden corn were found.
And over it the glad birds sang
Their merry hymns and lays,
And near to it the hearts of men
Poured forth their Master’s praise.

“And, best of all, He came to see
The patch of ground prepared,
And His eyes noted the green spot,
And knew how it had fared;
And smiled the gentle Master then,
For He saw what love had won,
And crowned the workers with the words:
‘My faithful ones, well done!’”

“Now, Margaret, it is your turn,” said the singer. “Give us something merry.”

“The Doctor will do that,” said John; and Stapleton gave “Rule, Britannia!” with variations, that were very varied indeed.

After a time, “Will not Mr. Knight favour us with a song?” asked Margaret. “I know he does sing.”

“Not often,” replied Arthur, as he took his seat at the piano, and prepared to accompany himself.

All eyes in the room turned affectionately towards him.

“He is a man, take him for all in all,
We ne’er shall look upon his like again.”

John Dallington made the quotation softly, so that only those nearest to him heard it; but they realised its aptness as they looked at the truest knight of the century. What a brave battle he had fought, and how little he regarded himself as a hero! How unswervingly he had run his course, turning neither to the right nor the left, but reaching the goal of his desire only to lay his victor’s crown on the altar of his faith. A man of remarkable talents, indeed, and thankful for every one of them; for the high thoughts which he knew had been given to him, not made by him, for the power to speak so that men were persuaded, for the health which had enabled him to endure fatigue, and the wealth which he might use as he pleased, and for the courage of his convictions, which had made him do where others had but ventured to dream! He could not ignore it all on this, the last day of the year, any more than others did, but he had many misgivings and regrets to keep him humble. Strange to say, he was feeling very lonely, though in the midst of his dearest friends; and perhaps the sight of Dallington’s happiness made him realise more than ever before that, however much he had gained, he had missed something without which no man’s life is complete. His thoughts were with his father. Some one a few minutes before had asked him whether he ever took up a newspaper nowadays without seeing his own name in it; and he answered half irritably, “Yes, very often,” for that was not a particularly interesting item to him; then he wondered what his father would think of it all if he could know; and a shadow of self-reproach stole over him, and a fear, lest, after all, he had not done wisely and well. But they were waiting for his song, and presently his voice, to which he owed so much, rang out clearly, though in subdued tones:—

“Give pardon to-night,
O God of the light!
For we are like children who wail in the shade,
Half afraid;
And look up to Thy face
For love, comfort, and grace.
Around Thee we gather—
Forgive us, our Father!

“The day breaks at last,
The shadows are past,
And we must go forward, pursuing our way
Through the day;
Go Thou where we go,
Thy will make us know,
And, all danger scorning,
Go forth to the morning.”

“The morning is almost here,” said Dallington.

“Would you not like to meet the year outside? It is a glorious night.”

The scene in the garden was so beautiful that few words were spoken. It was as if the very world held its breath and listened. A silence fell on every one, for every heart was full of prayer. Margaret forgot all her guests for a few minutes, and slipped her hand within the arm of her husband. Miss Whitwell stood a little apart from the rest, thinking her own thoughts. Dr. Stapleton whispered to Miss Wythburn an old wish from Shakespeare—

“God give thee many days of happy years.”

Arthur Knight repeated his own words:

“Give pardon to-night, O God of the light!”

Then the silence was so deep that it seemed almost as if their thoughts could be heard. Perhaps they were! Miss Whitwell softly whispered hers—“The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble, the name of the God of Jacob defend thee; send thee help from the sanctuary, and strengthen thee out of Zion; remember all thy offerings, and accept thy burnt sacrifice; grant thee thy heart’s desire, and fulfil all thy mind.” Some irresistible power drew her eyes to where Arthur Knight was standing, looking perhaps the most sorrowfully of any of the party. He met her look, and a thought flashed into his mind that electrified him.

“Can it be possible! Did she really only care for Dallington as a cousin! What does it mean? Can it be?——”

With a sudden impulse of hope he stepped to her side.

“Grace,” he said, “the old house in London is very solitary; and so is the heart of its owner, in Craighelbyl as well as in London.”

“Oh, no, no!” she said. “How can you be solitary when you have been so honoured?”

“Grace, do you know that I love you, that I have loved you all the time, ever since I first knew you?”

Again she whispered, “Oh, no, no!” scarcely knowing what she said. But Arthur had put his arm around her, and could feel the beating of her heart. “Oh, my darling,” he said, “is it possible that you can care for me? I had not dared to hope it! Is it really true that we may begin the year together—_together_?”

The first stroke of the Darentdale church clock struck through the silence of the night. Arthur drew the trembling girl more closely to him, and held her fast while the slow bell sounded twelve times. She tried to be perfectly still, and not even sigh forth the gladness that was almost breaking her heart; but when the clock ceased, and the bells pealed out, she lifted her eyes to his face for a moment, and he stooped and kissed her.

Then they remembered their friends, but no one seemed to have observed them. The old formula, “A Happy New Year!” was on the lips of all; but before it could be uttered some one began to sing the opening words of the _Te Deum_, and everybody sang with a full heart: “We praise Thee, O God; we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord. All the earth doth worship Thee, the Father everlasting.” Then dark forms were seen coming quietly towards them; and presently Dallington said to Knight, “They are the people from the village; they have come over the hill to wish you a Happy New Year. Ah! the thousands who would like to do the same thing! How well they sing!” And indeed they did sing, joining in the anthem, as if every one was contrasting the joy of this New Year with the sorrows of past days, and feeling such joy and thankfulness as could only be expressed in praise to the Great Father. And that old grand psalm of the ages, sung in many an august scene, never thrilled with fuller meaning than now, when the stars looked down upon the singers, and the very air of the night seemed alive with human emotion. So the anthem swelled to its close—“O Lord, in Thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded!”

THE END.

LONDON:
W. SPEAIGHT AND SONS, PRINTERS,
FETTER LANE.

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------------------------------------------------------------------------

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. P. 121, changed “The next moment she met her cousin. “Tom,” he said” to “The next moment she met her cousin. “Tom,” she said.” 2. P. 207, changed “was an ideal day for a holiday, not too hot to be pleasant” to “was an ideal day for a holiday, not too hot to be unpleasant”. 3. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling. 4. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. 5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.