How quiet he was! Bertha drew a sharp breath, and was tempted for a moment to think that it had all been a horrible nightmare. But it was only for a moment, and then the table was lifted down and all the hideous ruin was revealed. The sun was shining again beyond the storm, and where the waving stretches of golden wheat had been, was now a seared and twisted desolation.
“ ‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away!’ ” said Tom hoarsely.
And the voice of Grace added softly: “ ‘Blessed be the name of the Lord!’ ”
CHAPTER XVII
Black Ruin
It was not the Ellises alone who suffered on that disastrous Sunday before harvest. Every man whose land was within the area of the storm had his wheat beaten flat, twisted, cut, and riddled, until there was nothing left that was fit for gathering in. It was black ruin for most, and it had come as suddenly as a bolt from heaven might have done. The hailstorm had raged over a district about five miles broad and sixty long, spending itself finally over a stretch of swamp away in the wilderness.
In Pentland Broads half the houses had been unroofed, some of them, indeed, were entirely wrecked; but its force was weakening somewhat by the time it reached Duck Flats, or doubtless the house there must have gone also. As it was, it escaped with the slight damage of the window, which had been battered in by flying fragments from a little shed outside which was blown entirely to bits, some of the scattered wreckage being found afterwards half a mile away in the ruined wheatfields.
There was another heavy storm on the following day, only then it was rain and not hail which fell, but it finished the tale of disaster for the poor people, many of whom were practically homeless.
The post office had been more sorely damaged than any other building, Eunice Long and her brother barely escaping with their lives. But when Bertha drove over to Pentland Broads, two days later, to see how it fared with her friend, she was amazed at the steadfast light and the hopeful trust which shone on the face of the little postmistress.
“The worst has come that could come, and although it is ruin for a time, we shall get over it; and think what a blessing it is that not a single life has been lost anywhere—not even a horse killed. A dog is supposed to have died of fright at Blow End, but even that rumour has not been verified yet,” said Eunice, smiling bravely up at Bertha, who was so much the taller.
“You are wonderful, just wonderful!” cried Bertha, choking back a sob. “But then, so is Tom, poor fellow. I have not heard one word of murmuring from him, or from Grace either.”