“I am not so sure,” I said.
[CHAPTER XXII.]
WHAT TO DO?
EARLY in February Cress left us; and I had more comfort in my boy before he sailed than in all his previous life. He seemed softened, and less full of self; and he let me speak to him loving words of advice and warning, such as generally he would not hear at all. He took away my Bible with him—the one I had used for years—and he promised faithfully to read it every day, which was a real joy to me.
Jack knew of this gift of mine to Cress. The very evening after Cress was gone, he brought to me a beautiful new Bible, bound in dark morocco, with gilt edges,—far handsomer outside than my dear old Bible, which it cost me a wrench to part with.
At first I hardly seemed to know my way about in this new Bible. Every page of the old one had its own memories, sweet or bitter, and hardly a page was without at least one chosen text, lightly marked. Here all the pages were fresh and new and unfamiliar. And yet they were familiar, for they spoke the same words. It was the same Book, the same wonderful Bible, the same message of my loving God to me. And the gift had come as a fresh token of my eldest boy’s thoughtful care for his mother.
It really did seem to Robert and myself absurd to suppose ourselves any longer in quarantine. So one day he went by train to “The Gables,” not giving any warning.
But he was not admitted. The servant—a new one—looked doubtfully at him, and said that Mr. Hazel was out, and her mistress was busy. Robert pressed her to take in his name, saying he was sure Mrs. Briscoe would see him if she knew him to be there. The girl replied rather pertly that she was sure Mrs. Briscoe would not.
Robert felt convinced from her manner that his approach to the house had been seen, and that the girl had been instructed what to say. Still, he insisted on sending a message. The girl went away, and presently returned to say that Mrs. Briscoe was sorry not to see him. She was unwell, and afraid of measles.
“Rubbish!” Jack said, when Robert told us this.