Jack the Englishman

CHAPTER XII

GOING HOME

"Jack," called Betty, a few days afterwards, "come in a minute. I want to speak to you."

Jack passed in rapid review his conduct of the last few days, and decided that there was nothing Aunt Betty could want to lecture him about, and yet the brevity of the summons sounded like the preface to a lecture. He came up the paddock rather reluctantly.

"Well," he said, joining her in the verandah, but not sitting down. "Don't keep me long, there's a dear. I'm making an aeroplane, and it's frightfully exciting."

"But I think the news I have for you will be frightfully exciting too," she said smiling at him.

Jack's eyes shone like stars. "Is it that father's coming?"

Betty's heart smote her that she had raised the boy's hope so high only to dash it again.

"Not quite so exciting as that, but something that will get you more ready to go to England. Father wants you to go to school in Melbourne, a boys' school that Uncle Tom knows about, and thinks a good one. Father is very anxious that you should be working hard now so that you will be able to take your place with other boys of your age when you go home."

Jack seized his cap from his head and sent it spinning into the air with a whoop of triumph.

"I should say it just was exciting! Why, Aunt Betty, it's glorious."

His delight was so natural, that Betty would not dim it by any expression of personal regret. Besides, although she did not tell Jack this, his father's decision was the result of her own advice. She did not consider that the experiment of sending him to the State school had answered. He was too well known to every boy in the place, and was contracting acquaintances she did not care for him to make, and imitating follies that were by no means harmless, and she believed a complete change of companionship would be better for him and for his progress in learning. She knew that Captain Stephens was making not only a name but some money by his inventive skill and mastership of aircraft, and that it was his full intention to give Jack a good education, so she had written some months back suggesting the change of school and saying that she believed her influence over Jack stood a better chance of making itself felt when he was away from her and constantly in need of her than now, when more than half his time was spent out of her sight, and when her presence at home was so completely a matter of course that he scarcely realised its value. And from Jack's father had come an entirely reassuring answer. No mother could have his little son's interests more entirely at heart than Betty, and he was quite willing to accept her judgment, and that of the man who had acted the part of a kind and wise elder brother to Jack, and to send him to the school Tom Chance recommended.

"And you need not worry about ways and means. Let Jack have a proper school outfit. You will know what he needs better than I. It was certainly my wish at first that he should remain with you at all hazards until I could come and fetch him, but the time has been longer than I at first expected, and I quite see the force of your argument that he shall be able to take his proper standing with other boys of his age on his return, and possibly the education of a State school would hardly prepare him for this. Is it asking too much that Tom Chance will keep an eye to him as regards religious matters? A boy's first plunge into school life is an important era in his life. I'm not sure that Mr. Chance is still in the colony, but if you are in touch with him tell him what I feel about it."

All this was running through Betty's mind as she listened to Jack's outpouring of delight.

"And when am I going, Aunt Betty?"

"Next term if you can be taken in. I've already written to the head-master about you, for this has been in our heads for some time, although I could not mention it to you until I knew father's decision. Now I see no reason why you should not travel back to Melbourne under Uncle Tom's care."

Jack fairly danced with joy.

"I'm off, Aunt Betty; I'm off to find Uncle Tom, and to tell Eva. She'll mind rather much, I fancy, but I'll tell her she can write to me if she likes, and I'll answer as I get time," and away he flew, leaving Betty half amused and half heart-sore.

"A budding lord of creation," she said to Tom later in the day when he came to talk matters over with her.

"Women and girls find their right place in looking after him."

The words were playful, but there was an under-lying sadness in them.

"It's partly the fault of the women and the girls who spoil boys and men, isn't it? But there's scarcely one amongst us but owns in his secret heart that all that is noble in him he owes to the influence of some good woman—a mother, a sister, or an aunt—and Jack, come to man's estate, will look back and call Aunt Betty's name blessed."

Tears stood in Betty's eyes, but her smile was sweet and tender.

"If that prophecy comes true, I shall consider that life has been worth living," she said.

"Let us hope that there may be other causes by that time which will make your life very much worth living; others who will need you even more than little Jack, a husband, perhaps, and—children of your own."

The colour mounted to Betty's face flooding it from brow to chin, then faded leaving her deadly pale. Tom was standing over her looking down on her with a smile that told her more clearly than any words that he loved her, that the husband his imagination pictured was himself.

"Betty," he said, using her Christian name for the first time, "I did not mean to speak yet. I meant to wait until I am recalled to England and have a likelihood of a home to offer you, but your regret at losing your Jack led me on. Should I do, can you think of me as the husband? Betty, my dear, my whole heart cries out to you, I love you so. I don't know when it began, but I almost think it was the first day we ever met, and you caught me at cricket. It will be the biggest blow of my life if you catch me out now. Betty, my sweet one, what answer will you give me? My whole happiness hangs on it. Is it yes, or no?"

Betty looked into his face with a tremulous smile, put out her hands to him, and the next moment was clasped in his arms.

"My darling," he said, as he reverently kissed her, "you shall never have cause to regret your decision."

In the first few moments of their tumultuous happiness neither wished to speak; it was enough for Betty to feel Tom's arm round her, and to know that she was his for evermore, his helpmeet, sharing his home and work, the one man in the world she had ever loved, for a pretty helpful girl like Betty had had other men who wished to marry her, but not one of them had even set her pulses beating, much less suggested himself as her husband, but now she had entered her kingdom! Was ever girl quite as happy as she was at this moment?

Later on they talked of their future. Tom had mapped out work that would take him about two years to carry through, and then he meant to go home.

"And you will come with me, Betty darling, come with me as my wife," he said joyously. "I wonder if you realise what you are doing in marrying me. It's rather like catching a lark and shutting it up in a close dark cage, for my work will lie in some slum parish probably, where sorrow and sin will close you in on every side, and after your free country-life out here, you will feel choked by it often and often."

"I daresay I shall, but—I shall have you," said Betty, simply. "Shall we go and tell mother?"

Mr. and Mrs. Treherne's consent was a foregone conclusion, and separation from their only daughter being as yet a thing in the distance, left them free now to rejoice in her happiness. Ted's congratulations when he came in from the farm were rather less hearty.

"It's rather a mean trick to play," he said. "You had all England to choose from, and you come out here and want to carry off our Betty, and there's not a girl who can hold a candle to her in all the colony, is there, mother?"

"Not one," said Mrs. Treherne, giving the hand she held a squeeze.

"And that's the very reason why I want to take her home when the time comes," said Tom with a happy laugh. "I want them to see the kind of girl the colony can produce. I don't underrate her, Ted."

"I won't stay and be discussed as if I wasn't here," said Betty, blushing a little. "Ought not we to go and see Clarissa, Tom?" so they walked off together down the paddock, hand-in-hand.

"And that's how they'll walk off one day for good and all," said Ted, watching them moodily from the verandah. "Hang it all, mother. I wonder you can take it so quietly. Why can't she marry some man in the colony, and stay in the land she belongs to? They will only look down upon her in England," but that fired Mrs. Treherne into speech.

"Look down on her! Look down on my Betty! Isn't it because I know that to Tom she is the one woman in all the world that I give my consent to his carrying her away? But don't rub it in, Ted," and her tone was a little weary. "She's not going yet for a year or two, and every mother has to face the fact that the young ones she has reared and loved will fly off sometime and make nests of their own. It's God's law, and there is no escaping it."

Ted bent and brushed his bronzed cheek against hers.

"No fear, mother. There's one who will stick by the old birds, and keep their nest warm and dry for them," he said gruffly, and stirred by an unusual emotion he strolled off to the farm and solaced himself with a pipe.

Meanwhile no explanations were necessary with Clarissa. She just glanced at the smiling faces, saw the clasped hands, and burst into a laugh.

"So it's settled at last," she said, her own hands closing over their clasped ones, "but the wonder to me is why you have been so long about it, for you've known your own minds long enough. Betty, my dear, you're a lucky woman."

"As if I didn't know it," protested Betty, as Clarissa kissed her.

"But I remember your telling me almost the first night I came that you should like a sister just like Betty," Tom grumbled.

"So I did, so I do, but all the same I call her a lucky sister in marrying you," and with that assertion Betty was well content.

"Shall you tell the children?" Clarissa asked later.

"Oh yes," Betty said. "I never see the use of making mysteries out of things that are clear and true as daylight, and to Jack it will make no difference. He claimed Tom as his uncle long ago. Where are they, Clarissa? Jack rushed off here in great excitement to tell the news of his going to school, and I have not seen him since."

"They are in the garden, I think. Eva is full of lamentation that she was not born a boy, so that she might go to school with Jack, but he comforts her by reminding her that she would be in a lower form, and would see little of him!"

"He's a little beyond himself; he'll come back to his bearings directly," Tom said. "It's the first event of importance that has come to him. Come, Betty; we will find them."

They sat side by side in the swing, their heads close together deep in conversation, but at sight of Aunt Betty and Tom, Jack sprang to the ground and came rushing towards them.

"Uncle Tom, has Aunt Betty told you? Do you know I'm going to school?"

"Yes, I know that and something else which makes me very glad, happier than I've ever been in all my life."

"What?" asked Jack and Eva in chorus.

"That some day, when I go home, Aunt Betty will marry me, and go home with me as my wife. That's a big bit of news, isn't it, Jack?"

Eva laughed and clapped her hands, but Jack stood looking from Tom to Aunt Betty, with a slight air of bewilderment.

"Then she'll stay with you for ever and ever?" he said.

"I hope so, Jack," said Tom, with a little laugh.

"And you'll be my real uncle, not a pretence one?"

"Yes," said Tom again.

"Then I'm jolly glad, and oh, Aunt Betty," fresh light dawning on him, "it will mean that I'll have you always too the same as I do now. I think I'm almost as glad as Uncle Tom," and forgetful of his boyish dignity his arms closed round her neck in a rapturous hug, and Betty, as she held him fast, felt no congratulation on her engagement was quite so dear and sweet as his.

* * * * *

The days would have dragged heavily after Jack's departure but for the new great happiness which filled Betty's heart to overflowing. Tom had taken Jack to school and installed him there, a very good school Tom told her, with a wholesome religious basis, where "Jack will get such teaching as you and his father would wish him to have," Tom wrote, and Betty was content in this, as in all things, to rely upon Tom's judgment.

Months passed by, Jack came for his first holidays full of his school-mates, and, what pleased Betty more, very full of his work.

He was developing rather an extraordinary turn for mathematics and mechanics, and spent most of his recreation time in the workshop attached to his school, intent upon models of various sorts, and Betty rejoiced and sympathised with his hobby. It was all helping to get him ready for his future work.

Meanwhile, as the months ran into years, Betty went on quite quietly and contentedly with her own work—her preparations for her marriage which she now knew not to be far distant. Had not Tom said he would come to fetch her in about two years? The dainty garments she fashioned were finished one by one and laid by in a box which she named her glory box.

"For it is a glory, mother, to be loved by a man like Tom," she said.

"Then my gift shall be the household linen," said Mrs. Treherne, and side by side with the glory box there stood a large chest which received Mrs. Treherne's contributions as they were folded and marked in readiness for Betty's marriage.

And true to his promise when the two years were nearly completed Tom wrote a letter, almost incoherent in its happiness, to tell her he was coming to claim his own.

"I shall bring Jack along with me, for, as you know, his holidays will be due, and the dear boy is looking forward with sober happiness to his Confirmation day. I always promised to be present at it if I were still in the Colony, and the Bishop, I hear, holds one at Wallaroo about the 21st of December. Jack's preparation has been a careful one, and by his letters to me I think his mind is fully made up to continue Christ's faithful soldier and servant unto his life's end. He had his choice of being confirmed in the cathedral at Melbourne, when some other lads from his school received the laying on of hands, but he wrote that he would rather wait for the Confirmation in his own little church at home, 'when you and Aunt Betty will be there with me.' I thought it sweet of the boy, but, indeed, my Betty, I think Jack will turn into a boy you will have every cause to be proud of."

And the post which brought that letter brought another which was almost as important. Jack's father was coming to take his boy home; indeed, within a week of the letter's departure he would be on his way. Pressure of business would make his stay in the colony a short one, "but I always promised Jack to come and fetch him, and I will keep my word."

He gave the name of the liner in which his passage was taken, and the date when she was due at Melbourne.

"But mother—it's too delightful," said Betty, looking up from the letter. "Jack's father is coming and is due in Melbourne on the 18th or 19th of December. By good luck he should be here on Jack's Confirmation day. Won't it be beautiful if he is?"

And through the coming weeks Betty lived on in happy expectation, wondering what she had done to deserve such happiness. Jack was coming, and Jack's father, and, what was greater still, her own Tom, from whom, God willing, she would never again be separated.

Clarissa had clamoured to make her her wedding gown, but Betty asserted she did not mean to have one.

"Tom and I are of one mind," she said. "We think the greatest and holiest day of our lives shall not be desecrated by flutter and fuss. I'll be married in a coat and skirt, a white one if you prefer it, and we mean to have no fuss of any kind, and we want only those present who love us, and will say their prayers for us. We have not yet settled the day, but it will be pretty soon after he comes, for he has marching orders to return to England. He means to take our passages for about the end of the year. Don't you wish you were coming too?"

"No, I don't," said Clarissa, vehemently. "I love this place and its kind, warm-hearted people, and I love your father and mother, and mean to make up your loss to them as far as I can. I know it will be very imperfectly accomplished, but just think of the desolation which will be theirs when you've left them for good, gone out of their reach, Betty."

Tears stood in Betty's eyes. "Yes, I know, and often I wonder at myself for doing it, and yet—it's not that I love them less than I ever did, that I don't know what I'm leaving behind me, but if Tom were going to the uttermost parts of the earth I feel my call to go with him. I love him better than life itself, Clarissa. Don't you know what I mean?"

Clarissa was very white. "Yes, I loved George like that, but, unlike you, I married without the sanction of my father, and I never felt that God's blessing followed me as it will follow you, my Betty, going before and after like the pillar of cloud that guided the Israelites. It's because I love George so dearly that I don't want to go home. I want to live and die in the country where we spent our short married life together."

On the 16th of December Betty stood in her simple white gown waiting at the corner of the green lane for the evening coach that was to bring Tom and Jack from the station, and as she heard the rattle of the wheels and the sound of the galloping horses breasting the hill, her own heart beat in joyful sympathy, for her happiness was close at hand. And almost before the coach stood still, Tom and Jack had jumped from their seats on the top, and were taking her eagerly between them up the green lane towards the farm.

"But, Jack, you grow by feet, not by inches," said Betty, putting him a little away from her that she might see him more distinctly. "Father will feel quite shy of you."

"More than I'll be of him, then. Do you see he's won a medal for his last invention, Aunt Betty? Isn't he glorious? The boys at school chaff me because they say I'm always boasting about father, and I tell them they would boast too if they had a father like him to boast about. Why, there's Eva, waiting at the gate. I'll just run on and have a word with her."

Then Tom and Betty were left alone, and took a long look into each other's eyes.

"Well, darling! Are you ready for me?"

"Quite ready. Have I not said so often enough."

"And you will marry me any day I like?"

"Yes, mother knows we both wish it to be as quiet as possible, to have no splash breakfast, not even a wedding cake."

"Then I've settled it," said Tom joyously. "I saw the Bishop at Launceston and he's kind enough to express a wish to perform the Service. The Confirmation is to be quite early in the morning of the twenty-first and if you could fix the wedding to take place immediately after it, it would be delightful. It's short notice, but will it suit you, my darling? The time has dragged just lately Your face, your dear face, has come between me and my work. We've been pretty patient, I think. Will your mother object?"

"The time will suit me, and I don't think mother will object," said Betty, slipping her hand into his. "She is prepared for us to sail about the end of the year. She knows the parting is quite close; sometimes I think the strain tells on her. It will be better for her when it's over. We needn't tell anyone, Tom. We'll be married and slip away somewhere."

"To Melbourne," said Tom, "or we'll keep our Christmas at Launceston and your luggage can follow us there."

"And it's a good time in a way for us to be going, for Jack's father will be here and take away the bitterness of the parting. He will be following us soon to England."

"Betty, are you afraid, afraid to trust yourself to me all that long distance from home? It's a tremendous trust you give me."

Betty turned her face, glorified by love, to his.

"Afraid! with you, Tom!" and Tom was satisfied.

CHAPTER XIII

TWO VENTURES OF HOPE

It was the evening before Jack's confirmation and Tom's and Betty's wedding day. Up and down the paddock paced Tom and Jack, arm in arm, and Tom's heart was almost as full of the boy who gripped his arm as of the fair woman whom he would call wife on the morrow.

"It will be a great day for us both, Jack," he said, giving expression to his thought.

"Yes, Uncle Tom."

"Your whole life may depend upon your decision."

"Yes, it's rather awful when you come to think of it."

"It would be if you did not feel sure that the hosts of God, that God Himself is behind you."

"Uncle Tom, I want to grow into just such a man as you."

"Ah no," said Tom quickly. "There is but one model for us all to copy, the man Christ Jesus."

Jack's heart was too full to answer.

"I do wish father could have got here in time," he said, wistfully.

"Aunt Betty thinks he will appear some time to-morrow, but she does not think it possible that he can arrive in time for the service."

"I heartily wish he could for all our sakes. Aunt Betty is almost as keen as you, for she longs to get a glimpse of him before I carry her off. We leave for Launceston in the afternoon."

"It would be just beastly if I did not know that I shall see you both in England in a few months' time; but now I shall have father, and going about with him all the time, I shan't be able to miss anyone very much. I wish girls didn't cry. Whenever I talk of going to England, Eva cries or blows her nose to prevent it! Men aren't made like that, are they? It would be horrid if they were! I always tell her to dry up, and perhaps some day, when I'm a man, I'll come out and marry her."

Tom laughed out loud; it was rather refreshing to find that the boy at his side, so manly in some ways, was still at heart as innocent as a child.

"But Eva might have found someone else to marry by that time," he suggested.

"Oh, of course if she did it would be all right, and she would not want me," said Jack, nonchalantly, in no way affected at the thought of the loss of his ladylove. "She has cheered up a bit since Aunt Betty has consented to her being bridesmaid, although she's not to be dressed up fine, just a new white frock and a white muslin hat, she says."

Then Aunt Betty's voice, ringing down the paddock, called them both in to supper.

The little church was full to overflowing on the morrow, for quick as had been the final choice of the wedding day the rumour of it had spread like fire through the township, and loving hands had been busy on the previous afternoon, decorating the tiny sanctuary with Madonna lilies and other white flowers for the double service. And all had been carried through so quickly and quietly that no one at the farm knew anything of it.

It was only a handful of candidates that were presented for Confirmation, not more than a score, but of those it may be said that the present Vicar had spent much time and prayer on their preparation. The candidates were ranged in the front seats, and quite at the back of the church was seated the party from the farm, with Clarissa and Eva, and the intervening benches were filled with neighbours from the township. The only one who had come from a distance was Jessie Butler, who hearing that her friend of earlier years was to be confirmed, and remembering his presence at her own confirmation, had come to stay a night or two with someone in Wallaroo on purpose to be present when Jack was confirmed.

The congregation rose simultaneously to its feet as the Bishop, preceded by the Vicar, appeared from the tiny vestry, and the service began with a hymn, during the singing of which the rather unusual sound of a motor driving at full speed and brought to a sudden standstill outside the open door of the little church, fell upon Betty's ear. Could it be the sudden arrival of a belated candidate. But creeping quietly into the church, her glad eyes recognised Jack's father, standing hesitatingly in the doorway. He had motored all the way from Launceston to be present at his son's Confirmation, and Mr. Treherne, with a quick movement, motioned him to Betty's side. It was the one presence she and Jack needed to make the day perfect in their eyes. And a great joy and thankfulness filled the elder Jack's heart, as he recognised his tall boy standing at the head of the row of boy candidates, and heard his emphatic promise to renew his baptismal promises and serve God manfully for the rest of his life, and when it came to Jack's turn to kneel before the Bishop and receive the laying on of hands, Betty's hand sought for a moment that of her brother-in-law, and together they sank upon their knees and prayed very fervently for God's blessing on the head of the boy who was almost equally dear to both of them.

The Bishop's charge was a very simple one, but the earnest words could scarcely fail to reach the hearts of all who listened to them, and a reverent hush fell on the congregation as he pronounced the blessing. And then there was a pause for those who wished to leave the church, but not one stirred from his place. They waited for what was to follow. Then Tom, with a glance at Betty, moved to the chancel steps to be followed immediately by Betty, leaning on her father's arm, while little Eva with round wondering eyes took her place behind, and forthwith the wedding service proceeded. Jack's father, meanwhile, had walked up the church and taken his own place by his son.

Then, in low clear voices, fully audible to all present, Tom and Betty spoke out their promises to be true and loyal to each other as long as life should last. There were those in the congregation who beforehand had grumbled that such an unusual event as a wedding should be carried through in what they were pleased to call such a hole-and-corner fashion, but criticism vanished when the simply attired bride came down the church upon her husband's arm. All felt the bright-faced bride was in her right setting.

The Bishop, after shaking hands with the wedding couple, had to hurry off for another function, and then the wedding party walked quietly back to the farm, where a meal, laid in readiness beforehand, awaited them. Jack sat by his father and Tom and Betty were placed in the centre of the table. Just at the end of the meal, Mr. Treherne rose to his feet.

"God bless my girl, as good a daughter as ever stepped, and God bless the man she has married," was all he said, and Betty turned and kissed him.

The last half hour before the buggy came round to carry them to the station was spent by Betty in her mother's room. What passed between them none knew, but when Betty came out in her neat travelling dress, there were traces of tears in her eyes. Then came the hubbub of adieus, and more farewells had to be spoken at the gate of the paddock, where half the township had gathered to wish the bride and bridegroom farewell. Missiles of all description had been tabooed, but the kindly cheers of her neighbours, the eager outstretched hands which grasped hers, were a lovely ending to a happy life, thought Betty, as she drove off with her husband at her side. For she fully realised that one page of her life was folded down, but another page, very fair and white, was spread out before her.

What shall be written upon it is not for us to say. Some blots will surely blister it.

"Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary."

But now as Betty drives away with sunshine in her face and sunshine in her heart, we breathe the prayer that such days will be few and far between.

EPILOGUE

Extract from an English daily paper five years later.

"Special mention should be made of the amazing exhibition of prowess on the part of Lieutenant Stephens in yesterday's military aeronautic manoeuvres on Salisbury Plain. His aeroplane, the combined creation of his father and himself, is of such perfect construction that it is likely to make their name famous, and the Lieutenant's command of it left nothing to be desired. He executed feats of skill which have rarely been surpassed. England has just cause for pride in her present race of young men, prepared to face every danger in the service of their country, for it is an open secret that upon the efficiency of our air fleet, the future safety of our island home will very largely depend."

This paper, with others, was forwarded in due time to Mrs. Kenyon, who read aloud the paragraph just quoted to Eva, now a blooming girl of seventeen. She flew round the table and snatched it from her mother's hands.

"Let me read it for myself, mother. We shall all feel proud of him. He's playing our childish game of subduing giants to some purpose, isn't he? He's fairly earned his rights to his title of 'Jack, the Englishman.' I'm ever so glad. I'll run across to the farm and tell them about it."

Clarissa laughed at the girl's enthusiasm.

"They are perfectly certain to have these papers as well as ourselves. Isn't he their grandson?"

"And a grandson to be proud of! I wish he were mine, or a brother or something. Oh mother! I wonder—Shall we ever see him again?"