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 Iarose, 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 HAVEall, in having you, Jane."
