CHAPTER XXXVIII
PERPETUAL LIGHT
Moonlight on the terrace--silvery, white, serene. Garth and Jane had
stepped out into the brightness; and, finding the night so warm and
still, and the nightingales filling the woods and hills with soft-
throated music, they moved their usual fireside chairs close to the
parapet, and sat there in restful comfort, listening to the sweet
sounds of the quiet night.
The solitude was so perfect; the restfulness so complete. Garth had
removed the cushion seat from his chair, and placed it on the
gravel; and sat at his wife's feet leaning against her knees. She
stroked his hair and brow softly, as they talked; and every now and
then he put up his hand, drew hers to his lips, and kissed the ring
he had never seen.
Long tender silences fell between them. Now that they were at last
alone, thoughts too deep, joys too sacred for words, trembled about
them; and silence seemed to express more than speech. Only, Garth
could not bear Jane to be for a moment out of reach of his hand.
What to another would have been: "I cannot let her out of my sight,"
was, to him, "I cannot let her be beyond my touch." And Jane fully
understood this; and let him feel her every moment within reach. And
the bliss of this was hers as well as his; for sometimes it had
seemed to her as if the hunger in her heart, caused by those long
weeks of waiting, when her arms ached for him, and yet she dared not
even touch his hand, would never be appeased.
"Sweet, sweet, sweet--thrill," sang a nightingale in the wood. And
Garth whistled an exact imitation.
"Oh, darling," said Jane, "that reminds me; there is something I do
so want you to sing to me. I don't know what it is; but I think you
will remember. It was on that Monday evening, after I had seen the
pictures, and Nurse Rosemary had described them to you. Both our
poor hearts were on the rack; and I went up early in order to begin
my letter of confession; but you told Simpson not to come for you
until eleven. While I was writing in the room above, I could hear
you playing in the library. You played many things I knew--music we
had done together, long ago. And then a theme I had never heard
crept in, and caught my ear at once, because it was quite new to me,
and so marvellously sweet. I put down my pen and listened. You
played it several times, with slight variations, as if trying to
recall it. And then, to my joy, you began to sing. I crossed the
room; softly opened my window, and leaned out. I could hear some of
the words; but not all. Two lines, however, reached me distinctly,
with such penetrating, tender sadness, that I laid my head against
the window-frame, feeling as if I could write no more, and wait no
longer, but must go straight to you at once."
Garth drew down the dear hand which had held the pen that night;
turned it over, and softly kissed the palm.
"What were they, Jane?" he said.
"'Lead us, O Christ, when all is gone,
Safe home at last.'"
"And oh, my darling, the pathos of those words, 'when all is gone'!
Whoever wrote that music, had been through suffering such as ours.
Then came a theme of such inspiring hopefulness and joy, that I
arose, armed with fresh courage; took up my pen, and went on with my
letter. Again two lines had reached me:"
"'Where Thou, Eternal Light of Light,
Art Lord of All.'"
"What is it, Garth? And whose? And where did you hear it? And will
you sing it to me now, darling? I have a sudden wish that you should
sing it, here and now; and I can't wait!"
Garth sat up, and laughed--a short happy laugh, in which all sorts
of emotions were mingled.
"Jane! I like to hear you say you can't wait. It isn't like you;
because you are so strong and patient. And yet it is so deliciously
like you, if you FEEL it, to SAY it. I found the words in the
Anthem-book at Worcester Cathedral, this time last year, at even-
song. I copied them into my pocket-book, during the reading of the
first lesson, I am ashamed to say; but it was all about what Balak
said unto Balaam, and Balaam said unto Balak,--so I hope I may be
forgiven! They seemed to me some of the most beautiful words I had
ever read; and, fortunately, I committed them to memory. Of course,
I will sing them to you, if you wish, here and now. But I am afraid
the air will sound rather poor without the accompaniment. However,
not for worlds would I move from here, at this moment."
So sitting up; in the moonlight, with his back to Jane, his face
uplifted, and his hands clasped around one knee, Garth sang. Much
practice had added greatly to the sweetness and flexibility of his
voice; and he rendered perfectly the exquisite melody to which the
words were set.
Jane listened with an overflowing heart.
"The radiant morn hath passed away,
And spent too soon her golden store;
The shadows of departing day
Creep on once more.
"Our life is but a fading dawn,
Its glorious noon, how quickly past!
Lead us, O Christ, when all is gone,
Safe home at last.
"Where saints are clothed in spotless white,
And evening shadows never fall;
where Thou, Eternal Light of Light,
Art Lord of All."
The triumphant worship of the last line rang out into the night, and
died away. Garth loosed his hands, and leaned back, with a sigh of
vast content, against his wife's knees.
"Beautiful!" she said. "Beautiful! Garthie--perhaps it is because
YOU sang it; and to-night;--but it seems to me the most beautiful
thing I ever heard. Ah, and how appropriate for us; on this day, of
all days."
"Oh, I don't know," said Garth, stretching his legs in front of him,
and crossing his feet the one over the other. "I certainly feel
'Safe home at last'--not because 'all is gone'; but because I HAVE
all, in having you, Jane."
Jane bent, and laid her cheek upon his head. "My own boy," she said,
"you have all I have to give--all, ALL. But, darling, in those dark
days which are past, all seemed gone, for us both. 'Lead us, O
Christ'--It was He who led us safely through the darkness, and has
brought us to this. And Garth, I love to know that He is Lord of
All--Lord of our joy; Lord of our love; Lord of our lives--our
wedded lives, my husband. We could not be so safely, so blissfully,
each other's, were we not ONE, IN HIM. Is this true for you also,
Garth?"
Garth felt for her left hand, drew it down, and laid his cheek
against it; then gently twisted the wedding ring that he might kiss
it all round.
"Yes, my wife," he said. "I thank God, that I can say in all things:
'Thou, Eternal Light of Light, art Lord of All.'"
A long sweet silence. Then Jane said, suddenly: "Oh, but the music,
Garthie! That exquisite setting. Whose is it? And where did you hear
it?"
Garth laughed again; a laugh of half-shy pleasure.
"I am glad you like it, Jane," he said, "because I must plead guilty
to the fact that it is my own. You see, I knew no music for it; the
Anthem-book gave the words only. And on that awful night, when
little Rosemary had mercilessly rubbed it in, about 'the lady
portrayed'; and what her love MUST have been, and WOULD have been,
and COULD have been; and had made me SEE 'The Wife' again, and 'The-
-' the other picture; I felt so bruised, and sore, and lonely. And
then those words came to my mind: 'Lead us, O Christ, when all is
gone, safe home at last.' All seemed gone indeed; and there seemed
no home to hope for, in this world." He raised himself a little, and
then leaned back again; so that his head rested against her bosom.
"Safe home at last," he said, and stayed quite still for a moment,
in utter content. Then remembered what he was telling her, and went
on eagerly.
"So those words came back to me; and to get away from despairing
thoughts, I began reciting them, to an accompaniment of chords."
"'The radiant morn hath passed away,
And spent too soon her golden store;
The shadows of departing day--'"
"And then--suddenly, Jane--I SAW it, pictured in sound! Just as I
used to SEE a sunset, in light and shadow, and then transfer it to
my canvas in shade and colour,-so I heard a SUNSET in harmony, and I
felt the same kind of tingle in my fingers as I used to feel when
inspiration came, and I could catch up my brushes and palette. So I
played the sunset. And then I got the theme for life fading, and
what one feels when the glorious noon is suddenly plunged into
darkness; and then the prayer. And then, I HEARD a vision of heaven,
where evening shadows never fall: And after that came the end; just
certainty, and worship, and peace. You see the eventual theme,
worked out of all this. It was like making studies for a picture.
That was why you heard it over and over. I wasn't trying to
remember. I was gathering it into final form. I am awfully glad you
like it, Jane; because if I show you how the harmonies go, perhaps
you could write it down. And it would mean such a lot to me, if you
thought it worth singing. I could play the accompaniment--Hullo! Is
it beginning to rain? I felt a drop on my cheek, and another on my
hand."
No answer. Then he felt the heave, with which Jane caught her
breath; and realised that she was weeping.
In a moment he was on his knees in front of her. "Jane! Why, what is
the matter; Sweet? What on earth--? Have I said anything to trouble
you? Jane, what is it? O God, why can't I see her!"
Jane mastered her emotion; controlling her voice, with an immense
effort. Then drew him down beside her.
"Hush, darling, hush! It is only a great joy--a wonderful surprise.
Lean against me again, and I will try to tell you. Do you know that
you have composed some of the most beautiful music in the world? Do
you know, my own boy, that not only your proud and happy wife, but
ALL women who can sing, will want to sing your music? Garthie, do
you realise what it means? The creative faculty is so strong in you,
that when one outlet was denied it, it burst forth through another.
When you had your sight, you created by the hand and EYE. Now, you
will create by the hand and EAR. The power is the same. It merely
works through another channel. But oh, think what it means! Think!
The world lies before you once more!"
Garth laughed, and put up his hand to the dear face, still wet with
thankful tears.
"Oh, bother the world!" he said. "I don't want the world. I only
want my wife."
Jane put her arms around him. Ah, what a boy he was in some ways!
How full of light-hearted, irrepressible, essential youth. Just then
she felt so much older than he; but how little that mattered. The
better could she wrap him round with the greatness of her
tenderness; shield him from every jar or disillusion; and help him
to make the most of his great gifts.
"I know, darling," she said. "And you have her. She is just ALL
YOURS. But think of the wonderful future. Thank God, I know enough
of the technical part, to write the scores of your compositions.
And, Garth,--fancy going together to noble cathedrals, and hearing
your anthems sung; and to concerts where the most perfect voices in
the world will be doing their utmost adequately to render your
songs. Fancy thrilling hearts with pure harmony, stirring souls with
tone-pictures; just as before you used to awaken in us all, by your
wonderful paintings, an appreciation and comprehension of beauty."
Garth raised his head. "Is it really as good as that, Jane?" he
said.
"Dear," answered Jane, earnestly, "I can only tell you, that when
you sang it first, and I had not the faintest idea it was yours, I
said to myself: 'It is the most beautiful thing I ever heard.'"
"I am glad," said Garth, simply. "And now, let's talk of something
else. Oh, I say, Jane! The present is too wonderful, to leave any
possible room for thoughts about the future. Do talk about the
present."
Jane smiled; and it was the smile of "The Wife"--mysterious;
compassionate; tender; self-surrendering. She leaned over him, and
rested her cheek upon his head.
"Yes, darling. We will talk of this very moment, if you wish. You
begin."
"Look at the house, and describe it to me, as you see it in the
moonlight."
"Very grey, and calm, and restful-looking. And so home-like,
Garthie."
"Are there lights in the windows?"
"Yes. The library lights are just as we left them. The French window
is standing wide open. The pedestal lamp, under a crimson silk
shade, looks very pretty from here, shedding a warm glow over the
interior. Then, I can see one candle in the dining-room. I think
Simpson is putting away silver."
"Any others, Jane?"
"Yes, darling. There is a light in the Oriel chamber. I can see
Margery moving to and fro. She seems to be arranging my things, and
giving final touches. There is also a light in your room, next door.
Ah, now she has gone through. I see her standing and looking round
to make sure all is right. Dear faithful old heart! Garth, how sweet
it is to be at home to-day; served and tended by those who really
love us."
"I am so glad you feel that," said Garth. "I half feared you might
regret not having an ordinary honeymoon--And yet, no! I wasn't
really afraid of that, or of anything. Just, together at last, was
all we wanted. Wasn't it, my wife?"
"All."
A clock in the house struck nine.
"Dear old clock," said Garth, softly. "I used to hear it strike
nine, when I was a little chap in my crib, trying to keep awake
until my mother rustled past; and went into her room. The door
between her room and mine used to stand ajar, and I could see her
candle appear in a long streak upon my ceiling. When I saw that
streak, I fell asleep immediately. It was such a comfort to know she
was there; and would not go down again. Jane, do you like the Oriel
chamber?"
"Yes, dear. It is a lovely room; and very sacred because it was
hers. Do you know, Aunt Georgina insisted upon seeing it, Garth; and
said it ought to be whitened and papered. But I would not hear of
that; because the beautiful old ceiling is hand-painted, and so are
the walls; and I was certain you had loved those paintings, as a
little boy; and would remember them now."
"Ah, yes," said Garth, eagerly. "A French artist stayed here, and
did them. Water and rushes, and the most lovely flamingoes; those on
the walls standing with their feet in the water; and those on the
ceiling, flying with wings outspread, into a pale green sky, all
over white billowy clouds. Jane, I believe I could walk round that
room, blindfold--no! I mean, as I am now; and point out the exact
spot where each flamingo stands."
"You shall," said Jane, tenderly. These slips when he talked,
momentarily forgetting his blindness, always wrung her heart. "By
degrees you must tell me all the things you specially did and loved,
as a little boy. I like to know them. Had you always that room, next
door to your mother's?"
"Ever since I can remember," said Garth. "And the door between was
always open. After my mother's death, I kept it locked. But the
night before my birthday, I used to open it; and when I woke early
and saw it ajar, I would spring up, and go quickly in; and it seemed
as if her dear presence was there to greet me, just on that one
morning. But I had to go quickly, and immediately I wakened; just as
you must go out early to catch the rosy glow of sunrise on the
fleeting clouds; or to see the gossamer webs on the gorse, outlined
in diamonds, by the sparkling summer dew. But, somehow, Margery
found out about it; and the third year there was a sheet of writing-
paper firmly stuck to the pincushion by a large black-headed pin,
saying, in Margery's careful caligraphy: 'Many happy returns of the
day, Master Garthie.' It was very touching, because it was meant to
be so comforting and tactful. But it destroyed the illusion! Since
then the door has been kept closed."
Another long sweet silence. Two nightingales, in distant trees, sang
alternately; answering one another in liquid streams of melody.
Again Garth turned the wedding ring; then spoke, with his lips
against it.
"You said Margery had 'gone through.' Is it open to-night?" he
asked.
Jane clasped both hands behind his head--strong, capable hands,
though now they trembled a little--and pressed his face against her,
as she had done on the terrace at Shenstone, three years before.
"Yes, my own boy," she said; "it is."
"Jane! Oh, Jane--" He released himself from the pressure of those
restraining hands, and lifted his adoring face to hers.
Then, suddenly, Jane broke down. "Ah, darling," she said, "take me
away from this horrible white moonlight! I cannot bear it. It
reminds me of Shenstone. It reminds me of the wrong I did you. It
seems a separating thing between you and me--this cruel brightness
which you cannot share."
Her tears fell on his upturned fate.
Then Garth sprang to his feet. The sense of manhood and mastery; the
right of control, the joy of possession, arose within him. Even in
his blindness, he was the stronger. Even in his helplessness, for
the great essentials, Jane must lean on him. He raised her gently,
put his arms about her, and stood there, glorified by his great
love.
"Hush, sweetest wife," he said. "Neither light nor darkness can
separate between you and me: This quiet moonlight cannot take you
from me; but in the still, sweet darkness you will feel more
completely my own, because it will hold nothing we cannot share.
Come with me to the library, and we will send away the lamps, and
close the curtains; and you shall sit on the couch near the piano,
where you sat, on that wonderful evening when I found you, and when
I almost frightened my brave Jane. But she will not be frightened
now, because she is so my own; and I may say what I like; and do
what I will; and she must not threaten me with Nurse Rosemary;
because it is Jane I want--Jane, Jane; just ONLY Jane! Come in,
beloved; and I, who see as clearly in the dark as in the light, will
sit and play THE ROSARY for you; and then Veni, Creator Spiritus;
and I will sing you the verse which has been the secret source of
peace, and the sustaining power of my whole inner life, through the
long, hard years, apart."
"Now," whispered Jane. "Now, as we go."
So Garth drew her hand through his arm; and, as they walked, sang
softly:
"Enable with perpetual light,
The dulness of our blinded sight;
Anoint and cheer our soiled face
With the abundance of Thy grace.
Keep far our foes; give peace at home;
Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come."
Thus, leaning on her husband; yet guiding him as she leaned; Jane
passed to the perfect happiness of her wedded home.
