CHALK.

Otago Witness, Issue 1834, 14 January 1887, Page 31

CHALK.

By Alicr, Author of "Fickle Jack," " Grandmother's Story," fee. [Arx Rights Reserved.] Chapter XXVIL

A Golden Sunset.

After a shadowed, dark day it is often that the sun will burst through the cloud curtain in the evening, and shine with a glory of gold all the more beautiful because of preceding gloom. So with the sunset of Mary's life. With the coming of Charles the sunlight turned the clouds into crimson and gold, and flooding all the horizon tinged future and past with light and beauty.

She was dying. They, knew it now. The transient strength gave way. The flickering life had leaped up at Charles' coming to burn brightly for a time— but only for a time. The young doctor and husband sat by Mary's bedside day after day—counting the hours as a miser counts his gold — sat there in bitter repentance, crying in silent agony, "Oh God put back thy universe— give me three years ago."

The past. : who would not recall it ? Who would not, if they could, wipe out some blots from its page? When the tide comes in with life's wreckage on its crest, and casts "up its broken treasures at our feet, then we cry "Oh if— l " but it is no use— the winds and rocks and waves have been at work, and the scattered pieces of our joys and hopes lie all along the strand. Charles' was the harder portion now. Remorse had filled his cup as full of gall as it could hold. He had returned to make atonement— and Mary was "dying. She might forgive him, but he could never forgive himself. He had sowed, and he was reaping the harvest to the full. His sunken eyes and haggard face told that. His .haughtiness and vanity were things of the past. There was still the old irresistiable fascination of manner, but the eloquence, of speech had deserted him, or, rather, he had laid it by. The studied phrases were put' aside. He was natural for the first time , in his life. Charles Mason was abased in his own eyes, and was nobler in his abasement than he had ever been in his self-assertion and pride. Oh, brothers and sisters, shall we not find it in our heart to pardon those whp sit in saGkcloth and ashes ? Shall we not give our hand to those who sit in the dust ? and not our hand alone, but the touch' that tells of sympathy ?

But Winifred held aloof. The> other women were gentle with him. Winifred, with proud, pale face, gave no sign of relenting. Her dark eyes would dwell upon her darling with a look of hunger, then glancing at Charles would grow cold again. So the days passed.

It was evening. Outside the rain beat against -the window paneß, and the wind went moaning and shuddering by, swaying the trees in the lovers' .v^alk, and. gathering up the dead and fallen .leaves- hurled them against th.c window pane?, ' A cold, wild

night, when thought of home. More than- one pedestrian passing by beside the 'black and softly-flowing ' river cast ! a 1 lingering,- longing glance at the window' of Laurel Cottage that glowed'so brightly. It was sunset inside that room. The sunset of a : young life. We know her as she was our Mary. Wehave'not covered up her sins nor hidden her weaknesses.' We have 'not said that she did no wrong — but she has suffered. O friends, the world- is sad beneath its offences ! ' Let me- plead for it as awhole and leave the individual sinner to you. On the bed; propped up 'with pillows, lay Mary, more beautiful than we have ever seen her; happier -than we have ever seen her. Kneeling by the bedside was her husband, his face and heart alike' hidden. Mary's little soft hand lay like a snowdrift on his dark hair. On the opposite side of the bed stood Winifred— one hand on Mary's pillow, her eyes upon her face. Bertie, Mollie, Grannie^ Mr and Mrs Grant were grouped at the foot of the bed. For a moment not a sound was heard, then Mary's voice, sweet, pathetic, gentle, spoke. "My friends, I sent for you because I am so strong to-night, and I wished to talk to you before the (strength leaves me. • I cannot pass away from among you in silence — leave •you ~my faithful and" ray dear ones without a farewell word of love." She looked from one face to the other with big, bright' eyes, and saw only quivering lips and tears, until she turned and gave her hand to Winifred, and she knowing her dear girl needed 'strength, 1 smiled~brightly." "Oh Chalk 1" said Mary, "Oh Chalk ! " ,

Friends, first of all, I have in sacred keeping the noblest girl that God has ever made. Charlie has told me the story of her birth. She had a mother good as she is, and who suffered " she would have added, " as I suffered in the past," but a glance at her husband's bowed head restrained her, and she continued.

" But nothing you could hear would make you love her one whit more than you have loved her for her own dear sake. Could any title suit her half so well as v Chalk." Could any name be half so honoured and beloved as Chalk. As Chalk I knew her when a child, so loving and so brave. She offered then her life for mine, and I was never half grateful enough, no, not even when she suffered worse than death."

Winifred stood like a stone figure — hearing nothing, seeing nothing, but the fact that Mary was saying good-bye.

11 You all know, and you will all remember that in my last and happiest and purest days I realised what sort of love her love has been, and how in every hour I pray the God who repays to pay . her back again. Tell my dear father when he comes home that she was all and more than he ever hoped her to be, and tell him, too, the only wish his Mary had in dying was to ccc his face again, and ask his pardon for the sin that, with its attendant mystery and woe, drove him sad-hearted from his home. O, I was very wicked! Not in my love for, Charlie— even now dying I can't- regret. I do not grieve that we two met. .Remember, my dears, that never once, not even in my darkest hours, did I regret that we two met. I only grieved when Charlie went away, and now that he has come home again " She paused with a look of unspeakable tenderness, and the snow-white hand moved softly over his hair — "he has brought with him joy, peace, pardon, redemption, and| hope. Joy in the happiness that his love was true. I always knew his love was true. I always knew his love, the better part of him, was mine. In coming home he has only brought his better self, which has given me peace. Peace!" she continued, clasping her hands and looking up. 'It was so rough, so tempestuous, but it is all peace now. My rebellion is hushed. My doubts of heaven and earth are lulled. I believe now in all things, having found Charlie true. In the pardon my heart -felt without an effort. I know there is pardon in a larger heart than inine for me, for my love is finite that love infinite. lam happy in the redemption from dark doubt and trouble, and hope all things, believe all things."

She paused, and looked round from face to face. No one spoke, for all but the two who loved her most were weeping. Presently she went on again,

" Why do you weep ? O friends, I tell you it is a golden sunset — and better so. I was very tired. Now lam rested. There was so much pain, it is all over now. If I lived I should make one life the star of my idolatry. I am happier to die than I was to live. Come and kiss me, my dears all. You will forgive me now for all the trouble I have caused you."

They pressed round her and wept over her, and fondled hei while she smiled and thanked them one by one, giving each some little message. Then they left her alone with her husband and Winifred.

When they had all gone Winifred started, and looked round as one suddenly wakened from a dream. Charles still knelt with his face hidden. He had not moved in all this time. Winifred looked at him now, and from him to Mary so tenderly regarding him, and with a spasm of jealous^ pain unclasping Mary's hand moved slowly away. All her life long she had lived for liar}-, and in the last hour she must leave her to another.

" My husband," said Mary, holding out her hand to him, "the sun is" sinking fast, and when it goes below the horizon I would be alone with you ," she turned her face with a beautiful smile to Winifred and holding out the other hand, added, "and Chalk."

Charles rose to his feet and Winifred came quiokly back again. Mary held the hand of each, and looking from one to the other said:

"My husband and my 9ister! Chalk, I love Charlie with a wife's love. Charlie, I love Chalk as David loved Jobnathan, as Ruth loved Naomi, as children love their mother. Yet my best beloved are not friends. But you will be friends. I do not grieve because I know you will be friends. A fond brother "and sister. In the days , that will come to you both you will comfort and help each other. You will know my Charlie, Chalk, as I know him. Charlie already knows his sister for what she is. gfilent, both of you, still, Sit op the bed

and hold me'in your arms, Charlie; 'give 'me" ' your hand, Chalk. Th'erei now I canj sleep." 'She seemed to sleep for a time, £hen, with •her eyes closed, "she murmured :, * " I tell'yoti, mother, "it is better so. 111 1 was always a coward. I let you die, believing her' false ; but you know now;' and all the world knows, "except father, and he will know. Where is Chalk?" '"Close here, myj'love'." said , Winifred softly. ' "•' '" -' "•" ' . *. ' ' i ""Close 1 here!" "continued Mary, "where else should she be — close here. When 'l was a'vairi, selfish little girl and couldn't bear her, she was always close here. She had bare feet and a ""blue s parasol. ,Get me blue parasol,, will you, someone."

There was a movement and a silence when Winifred came back with it. : Mary opened her eyes'and smiled feebly as she touched it. "We never got the new handle for it, did we Chalk? Where have yon kept it all these years ? They used to beat you with it. didn't they, and kick your legs with heavy boots, but it didn't even crack 'urn did it?"

She dozed again, fchen cried out " Chalk, I love you, and you shan't get killed for me. Untie the scarf, untie the scarf, I say ! There she. is, dead, at the bottom of the pit, and dead at the bottom of the river. Twice — that makes twice she died for mcl "

" I am close here, Mary love, well, and close here." ■ . "Is it well? Charlie, is it well that I loved you so ?"

No, love," he muttered hoarsely, "it is exceedingly ill." ■ >

!' Charlie says it is exceedingly ill," she went on, as though talking to herself, '• yet Ido not know. The pain was not in the love, but in the doubt., It is hard to wait. I told you long ago, Winifred, I was not an Evangeline. I wanted .Charlie and he did not come."

"No. God forgive me, Mary, I did not ccme, but my heart never left you. It stayed here always."

"Didn't I always say so, Chalk? You hear what he says — his hearb was here always."

Charlie raised her a little, so that her golden head rested on his shoulder. Winifred's eyes were strained upon her face, devouring these last moments — breathing with her, dying with her, for she felt each panting breath, and her pulse was beating as feebly almost as that of the dying girl. "I wonder if the baby will be ashamed of me in heaven," said Mary abruptly. Then, before they could reply, she added — " Suppose they won't let me in. Don't take away Chalk's parasol, I shall take it with me, and say, ' see this is Chalk's. I come from Chalk. Chalk gave her life twice for mine, and she will be coming one day, and if she sees me here outside, she won't go in and leave me here. Chalk, enter heaven and leave me outside the gate 1 I tell you, God, she couldn't do it."

" Yet you can go and leave me here 1" said, Chalk almost bitterly.

"I must. 1 tried to live when Charlie came, but I couldn't. I was too tired, I- couldn't get rested again. Besides, I have got to die for myself , this time. It was decreed so— then there is baby. The angels can't take care of baby like its mother can.'

She lay silently for some time, then said in low thrilling tones :

" I am so' happy ! All the Jworld will read it. Mary, the beloved wife. The beloved wife !" she cried in loud tones, starting up in bed : " Father, mother, baby, friends, God and Chalk, Charlies' beloved wife !"