CHAPTER XI

PEACE AT LAST

MATTHEW had returned to The Towers, having fulfilled his mission well. His leave-taking on the Monday following Reg's confession was somewhat unexpected. It was owing to the fact that he had received a letter from his father, who, feeling himself to be growing old and feeble, and likewise weary of his own society, desired his son's immediate return.

Thus was Reg left with the hardest battles to fight, namely, to confess his grievous faults to his Aunt Elizabeth, and to suffer his humiliation at school. It was almost more than he knew how to contemplate, but having started on the upward path, he determined to proceed, however difficult the way.

It was all over at last. Hugh's name was cleared, and Reg, feeling as though life had no longer any hope or gladness, hid himself away in his bedroom and refused to be comforted. He had written his confession to his aunt, and the note was blistered with tears of genuine penitence.

For a while Mrs. Rose felt her heart to be hardened against the lad who had wrought so much sorrow. And not until the evening of the day, when on her knees she breathed the petition,—

"'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us,—"

was she softened towards the culprit.

Hugh and Frank were indignant. The former could far more easily forgive the wrong done to himself than the cruel act which had occasioned his little sister so much suffering. They were ready to wage any amount of warfare in harsh words and bitter upbraidings, but they soon realized the "Yorkists" had no longer any spirit to fight.

"It takes two to make a quarrel," said Frank, "so I suppose, as the Yorkists have given up the fight, the victory is ours."

"They are not even worth having for enemies," answered Hugh, with supreme contempt.

Ronnie sought out his little friend Gwennie next morning, and told her of his brother's decision to end the battle.

"Hugh says that you are none of you even worth having for enemies," he said.

Gwennie looked hurt, and Ronnie to comfort her slipped his hand into hers.

A sad little smile came over her face as she said wistfully, unconscious of the exquisite sweetness of her words—

"No, Ronnie, p'raps not, but don't you think we might be worth having as 'friends?'"

This was a good idea, thought Ronnie, and very clever of Gwennie.

"I'll tell Hugh what you say, Gwennie," he said. Then he added, drawing out of his pocket a round, rosy apple, "I've been saving this for you—it's such a beauty."

"Thank you ever so much, Ronnie; don't forget to tell Hugh what I say. Now I must go, for nurse is calling me," and with these words away ran Gwennie in obedience to the summons.

Mrs. Rose, on the morning following the receipt of Reg's penitent letter, wrote in answer these few words, which were long treasured by the lad.

"DEAR REG,

"I forgive you from my heart as I would myself be forgiven by our loving Heavenly Father.

"Will you come and have tea with Elsie and me this afternoon? Miss Beaumont is superintending the dining-room tea, so we shall be quite by ourselves. Please come.

"Your affectionate

"AUNT LISA."

Mrs. Wilfrid herself shed secret tears over the short note, and came to the conclusion that after all, notwithstanding her poverty and lack of "long descent," there was a great deal in Elizabeth Rose, and from henceforth she decided to cultivate more of her society.

Elsie, who was daily growing stronger, was delighted at the idea of receiving a visitor, and Reg, who brought with him a lovely picture-book as a gift from his mother, was a welcome and honoured guest.

The injuries which Elsie had received were happily not of a permanent nature, as was feared, although many weeks, perhaps months, must elapse ere she would be able to run about as usual.

Owing to their mother's influence, the three boys gradually received Reg into favour, and acting upon little peace-loving Gwennie's suggestion, they found to their surprise that the young cousins at York House were after all worth having as friends, and thus ended "The Wars of the Roses."

* * * * *

The morning of Miss Beaumont's departure drew nigh, and with tears and mutual regrets she bade good-bye to The Gables, and set her face towards the New World.

There appeared to be no prospect of any one taking her place, and the question of ways and means at times sorely troubled the widow's heart, but still her faith did not fail her.

One morning, when the future was weighing somewhat heavily upon her mind, the post brought her a letter from Sir Matthew Rose. Opening it with trembling fingers, for it was the first communication she had ever received from him, she read as follows—

"MY DEAR ELIZABETH,

"My son and I are lonely at The Towers, and I feel myself to be growing old and feeble, and in need of a daughter's care.

"I am asking you, therefore, as a favour to come (you and your family) and take up your abode with us. Please do not let pride stand in the way. I am only too well aware that this is a tardy recognition, but remember to err is human, and to forgive—which is your prerogative—divine. We are 'needing' you, and realize that your presence will do much to brighten our lives. Your little daughter shall have the best medical attention, and I will gladly undertake the future of your sons, for Gilbert's sake and your own.

"Anxiously awaiting your reply,

"Believe me,

"Yours affectionately,

"MATTHEW ROSE."

"'We are needing you.'" This phrase in the letter completely won the widow's heart, and thankfully she accepted the baronet's generous offer.

When the news reached York House, for a while Mrs. Wilfrid was both resentful and rebellious.

"Who is Elizabeth Rose," thought she, "to be thus favoured?"

But her better nature at length prevailed, and as the time of departure drew nigh, she manifested much kindliness of spirit.

Gwennie was inconsolable; but a letter received one morning, about a week later, from Sir Matthew Rose, greatly comforted her.

It was an invitation to the entire family to spend the Christmas holidays at The Towers.

Elsie's removal had necessitated great care, and special invalid appliances were brought into requisition at the baronet's expense.

Hugh alone of all the party felt a certain shamefacedness at the idea of meeting his grandfather, and at his first opportunity, he made ample apology for his impertinent letter.

With a graciousness to which in past days he was a stranger, Sir Matthew freely forgave the impulsive lad, and from thenceforth Hugh was his devoted adherent.

The weeks rolled on, and the blessed season of Christmas drew nigh. And what a Christmas-tide it was too! Such a time of merry-making, rejoicing and thanksgiving surely was never known in the grey old Towers, and the baronet's heart grew young again as he gazed at the bonny faces of his grandchildren. Little Elsie, in her convalescence, was as gay as any.

"Peace on earth, good-will to men," rang out the Christmas message, finding an echo in the glad hearts of those who assembled around the Yule-tide fire in the wainscoted dining-room at The Towers. Matthew, in his joy at the family reunion, in which he had taken so noble a part; was intensely happy, whilst his father's face actually beamed with gladness.

"Glory to God in the highest!"

Ah! This was the theme of Elizabeth Rose's rejoicing as she gave praise to Him who throughout her chequered pathway had never once failed her.

All too rapidly the holidays flew away, and Mrs. Wilfrid and her family once more returned to York House.

It was the twilight hour, and the children in their spacious play-room were amusing themselves contentedly.

The baronet, with Matthew and his daughter-in-law Elizabeth, sat talking beside the dining-room fire.

"The house seems a different place, Elizabeth," said Sir Matthew gently, "since you have come to us."

She smiled brightly as she replied, calling him by the name which he loved best to hear—

"Dear father, you are very, very good to us. I only trust that we shall never disappoint you."

"There is little fear of that, my child," he answered. "God has bestowed upon you 'good' children, and they have rich blessing in their mother.

"I came across some lines the other day," he added, after a little pause, "which made me think of you."

"What were they?" she said, smiling through a mist of happy tears.

"They were these," he answered, regarding her with true fatherly affection—

"'A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath, Than my son's wife, Elizabeth.'"

THE END

————————————————————————————————— Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London and Bungay.