CHAPTER XIV.

AFTER TWENTY YEARS.

IT is twenty years since all this happened, and yet the twenty years have passed away so fast that I can hardly realize that they have gone. I can scarcely bring myself to believe that I have lived so many years in this pretty cottage with my dear old friend, Jem Bagot. Our life here has been so peaceful, so far removed from the bustle and constant stir of the busy town, so little has happened to mark the time, or to make any break in our quiet lives, that the days and weeks and months and years have gone by as swiftly as I think days and weeks and months and years could possibly go.

When I had been three years at Grassbourne, my mistress offered to keep her promise, and to find me a situation as footman; but I was so happy here, and Bagot and his wife were good enough to say they were so fond of me, that my mistress very kindly said I might still stay on with her, if I would like to do so.

Very soon after this, Bagot had a terrible attack of rheumatic fever, and during his long illness I took entire charge of the garden and hothouse, and then, when Bagot got better, he was very weak and feeble, and could not have managed to keep pace with the work, if he had only had a young, inexperienced boy to help him.

And so it came to pass that I never left Grassbourne, and now Bagot is getting old and infirm; he is seventy-five years old, and he can do no hard work. But I have stepped into his place, and he enjoys helping me, and doing any little job which he can manage without tiring himself.

Dear old Bagot, I believe he loves me as much as if I were really his own son. Ever since his wife died—and she has been dead now more than ten years—he has leaned on me more than ever. He felt her death very much.

"The missus and me always pulled together, Peter," he said, as he cried like a child on the night she died; "it was a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull both together, it was, and the boat went bravely over the waves. But now, my lad, it has landed her on the other shore, it has; and how I shall ever pull on without her, Peter, it beats me to think."

"But the Lord is in the boat, Bagot," I said. "He won't leave you to pull on alone."

"You 're right there, Peter," he sobbed, "you are. I was forgetting that, like an old foolish-headed fellow, I was; but I wish, Peter—I can't help wishing, my lad—that we had both got to the shore together."

I did all I could to cheer him and to comfort him when we were left alone together. And when Kate came, the old man felt he had a daughter as well as a son to take care of him. I never saw any two people take to each other so well as Bagot took to Kate, and Kate took to Bagot. He wanted to go away when he knew I was going to be married, but I would not hear of that, and Kate would not hear it either, and we could not be a happier little family than we are now.

Bagot's great pleasure is in the children. Little Jude and the tiny Kitty are his constant playmates, and they follow him about wherever he goes. Little Kitty is wild with joy whenever she hears Bagot's step coming in from his work, and she toddles to meet him, and climbs up into his arms, saying, "Dear daddy Baggy, dear daddy Baggy."

My mistress has aged very much since I first came to Grassbourne. Her hair is growing white now, and her face has lost much of the beauty which made her so much admired when she was younger; but sometimes I think she looks more like an angel now than even when first I saw her. She is twenty years nearer the end of the journey now, and the twenty years of patient waiting, the twenty years of busy working, the twenty years of discipline in the Lord's school of sorrow, the twenty years of learning daily more and more of His love, have all left their mark upon her, and have made her even more beautiful in the eyes of those who know her best, than she was in those by-gone years.

I sometimes think the waiting time may not be much longer for her now; it seems, at times, as if a gleam of glory from the Heavenly City were shining on her face, and I tremble as I think that the gates may even now be opening to let her in. I tremble for ourselves, and for all those whom she helps, and teaches, and comforts; but I can but rejoice for her, if the wilderness way is growing shorter, and the welcomes in the Father's Home are drawing nearer.

Yet the thought often comes to me, "Oh that we could all go together! Oh that, instead of the Master's voice calling us one by one, instead of the terrible parting with one dear one after another, as they go gladly at the sound of His voice, He would come again, and receive all, all to Himself, He would appear to gather together in one His children scattered abroad, and that we, all of us together, might gladly go, hand in hand, to meet Him!"

The "Rules for To-day" still hang over the chimney-piece in their old place, and we are still trying; by God's grace, to carry them out in our daily lives. And the blessed hope of the Lord's appearing still stirs us up to live very near to Him, and to keep very far from sin, and still comforts and cheers us in all the sorrows and anxieties of our every-day life.

My old home has been broken up a long time now. My poor mother died the same year as Mrs. Bagot, and she rests from her labors in that Home where the weary are at rest. My brothers are all doing well for themselves, and have wives and families of their own.

My father gave up the business when Salome married, and went to live with her. He often comes over to see me, and the quiet of this country place is a great enjoyment to him. He is as silent as ever, and it is amusing to see him and Bagot sitting together over the fire. They have quite renewed their old friendship, and are very fond of each other; but when they talk together, it is an equal division of labor, for Bagot does all the talking, and my father does all the listening, and yet it seems to give them both the greatest satisfaction.

Salome came over to see us last week with her little girl, and in the evening I drove them to Calvington in the light cart. It was Salome's birthday, and she came over to see me for her birthday treat, for she and I love each other as much as ever.

It was a lovely evening, and as we drove along the sun was setting behind the distant hills. The sky was full of glory, golden clouds floated along in the deepest blue, like islands of glory on an azure sea, and then there were deep rose-colored and crimson clouds beyond, which looked like the glorious shores of this lovely sea, and which were constantly changing, both in form and color.

We were in good time, and we pulled up in a quiet bit of the road, and looked at the sunset.

"Don't you think it will look something like that, Salome," I said, "when the Lord comes?"

"I was just thinking so, Peter," she said. "When I was a child, ever after you and I heard that sermon on my birthday, whenever such a sky as that came, I thought it was the Lord coming in glory."

"But He hasn't come yet," I said, with a sigh.

"No," answered Salome, "not yet, Peter.

"'But the Day is nearer now, Far nearer,— And the signs of His approach Far clearer!'"

"That's a very comforting thought, Salome," I said.

"You would like that hymn, Peter," said my sister. "I had a copy of it given me the other day, and I will send it to you."

And this morning the hymn arrived, and I have just been reading it to Bagot and Kate.

"'YE SEE THE DAY APPROACHING.

"'When we were little children, and heard of Jesus' love, We often wished that He would come, and take us all above. But the Day is nearer now, Far nearer,— And the signs of His approach Far clearer!

"'And oft, with childish fancy, at the closing of the day, We hoped that in those golden clouds the King was on His way. But the Day is nearer now, Far nearer,— And the signs of His approach Far clearer!

"'Lord, we are growing older, those days and years are fled; And time and change have done their work; and some we loved are dead. But the Day is nearer now, Far nearer,— And the signs of Thine approach Far clearer!

"'Lord, make us ever ready, as each day hurries by, To raise the welcome shout of joy,—"The Lord our King is nigh!" But the Day is nearer now, Far nearer,— And the signs of Thine approach Far clearer!'"

"Amen," said Bagot, when I had finished reading. "'Even so, come, Lord Jesus.'"

THE END.

University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge.