Chapter LXVIII: Home Again

D. McLean snatched half an hour to say good-bye as they were weighing anchor. And among other things he happened to ask Jim:

"Have you sent word home that you're coming? I don't believe in surprises."

"No, I haven't. I'm only learning to write, you see."

"Tell me what you want to say and I'll telegraph it from here."

"Can you?" said Jim, with a look of surprise, for this too was all new since he went into captivity. "I wish you would. Just say 'Coming home--Jim,' and send it to Sir Denzil Carron, Carne, Sandshire."

"Right! I'll see to it."

And he duly saw to it, but in the mighty pressure on the wires, consequent on the great events of those latter days, the private dispatch got mislaid, or was lost on the road--somewhere under the Black Sea, maybe, or in the wilds of Turkey; anyway, it never reached its destination.

And so it came about that Jim, satisfied that they knew of his coming, walked up to the door of Mrs. Jex's cottage, three weeks later, and found it occupied by young John Braddle, the carpenter's son, and his newly married wife.

"My gosh!" said young John at sight of him. "But yo' did give me a turn, Mester Jim! An' yo've lost an arm! Was that i' th' big charge?"

"No; I left it inside Sebastopol, John. But where's everybody? Mr. Eager and----"

"They're all up at Vicarage, Mester Jim. He's vicar now, and Mrs. Jex she keeps house for him. An' so Molly and me----"

But Jim was off, with a wave of the workable arm. He had not come home to hear about John and Molly Braddle.

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Eager had just got back from their honeymoon. Mrs. Jex had been in residence for a month past, getting things into shape for them, with Gracie's very active assistance. And--"Bless her 'art! She couldn' do no more if 'twas her own house she was a-fittin' up. And may I live to see that day!" said Mrs. Jex with fervour.

Gracie had been living at Knoyle, for the comfort and consolation of Sir George, who found his great house very lonely, and talked of selling it and coming to live with them at the cosy old ivy-covered Vicarage.

They were all sitting round the dinner-table still; Meg--Mrs. Charles--and Gracie cracking a surreptitious walnut now and again, Sir George sipping his own excellent port, and smoking one of his own extra-specials with a relish he had not experienced for months past; while the Rev. Charles--the vicar, if you please--recalled some of the delightful humours of their travel. For never since the world began had there been a month so packed with wonder and delight.

The drift-logs on the hearth crackled and spurted, and the many-coloured flames laughed merrily at their own reflections in the Jex-polished mahogany and old walnut panelling. And Rosa, the little maid, had tapped three times on the door and peeped in, and gone back to Mrs. Jex with word that he was a-talking and a-talking as if he'd go on all night, and they all looked so happy that she hadn't the heart to disturb them. To which Mrs. Jex had replied, "All the same, my gel, we've got to wash up, and so we'll begin on these."

"I'm so glad," said Gracie, during a brief pause, and she knitted her fingers in front of her on the table and gazed happily on them all. "You two make me happy just to look at you----"

"Then is the object of our wedding attained," said Charles, with a smile and a bow.

"Almost quite happy," continued the Little Lady. "If only the boys were here, now----"

"We ought to hear something soon," said Sir George. "I was hoping the dispatches might bring some news of them. You don't suppose the Russians would carry them across with them?"

"I wouldn't like to say what the Russians might or might not do," said Eager thoughtfully. "They're a queer lot, from all accounts. I didn't tell you we called on Lord Deseret as we came through London. He was very friendly and as nice as could be. Among other things he told us that, as the result of all his inquiries, he learned from St. Petersburg that the boys were being kept in Sebastopol of set purpose."

"That's odd! Why?" asked Sir George.

"For the still odder reason, as it was reported to him, that they were safer inside than outside."

"And who was it was playing Providence to them like that?"

"He could only surmise, but I am not at all sure that he told us all he knew. He is an old diplomat, you know."

"And to whom did his surmises point?"

"I gathered it was towards Mme Beteta, the Spanish dancer. You remember she made something of a furore in London when she was over here."

"But what on earth has she got to do with our boys?" asked Gracie, kindling.

"She seemed to take a fancy to them. You remember how Jim used to write about her."

"But how could a woman such as that exercise any influence in such a matter?" asked Sir George.

"Ah!----"

Then there came a knock on the front door, and they heard Rosa trip along to answer it.

And the next moment Rosa's white face appeared at the dining-room door, and Rosa's pale lips gasped:

"Oh mum, miss, 't's 'is ghost--Master Jim!"

And Jim pushed past her into the room, and they all sprang up to meet him.

Gracie was nearest, and she just flung her arms round his neck crying, "Oh Jim! _Jim!_"; And he put his left arm round her and kissed her, and put her back into her chair.

It was many minutes before they could settle to rational talk, for Mrs. Jex must come hurrying in, and Jim kissed her too, and seemed inclined to go round the whole company. But then they came to soberness with the inevitable question:

"And Jack?"

And an expressive gesture of Jim's left hand prepared them for the worst.

"The shell that took this," he said, glancing down at his empty sleeve, "took Jack too. I did my best"--and he looked anxiously at Gracie and Eager--"I tried to fling it away, but it burst, and--and-- that was the end. It was days before I knew."

By degrees he told them all the story; and saddened as they were by the loss of one, they could not but soberly rejoice that one at all events had been spared to them.

He told them of the Greskis and all their kindnesses, and how he had brought them hone with him, since Greski was set on ending his servitude with Russia, and now it would be supposed that they had perished in the bombardment, and so no consequences could be visited on their friends in Poland because of his desertion. He had settled them for the time being in a quiet hotel in Liverpool, and later on they would decide further as to their future.

Eager had been very thoughtful while Jim talked. Now he said:

"Do you feel able to come along with me to Caine, my boy? Mrs. Jex was telling me that old Mrs. Lee is lying at the point of death. It is just possible--But I don't know," he said musingly, with a tumult of thoughts behind his fixed gaze at Jim "It does not matter now. . . . Still, I imagine your grandfather. . . . Yes, I think we must go."

"I'm ready," said Jim, and they two set off at once for Carne, and the others gathered round the fire and talked by snatches of it all, and Gracie mopped her eyes at thought of all those two boys had suffered, and of Jack, and of Jim's poor arm--and everything.

"He has become a very fine man," said Sir George. "A man to be proud of, my dear."

And Meg kissed her warmly and whispered, "Make him happy, dear!"