And Miss Betsey had her wish. One day her mother and Cynthia came down, and Ben went over for Mr Fleming, and old Mrs Wainwright, and Deacon Stone, and two or three others, and the minister, and they all remembered their Lord together. The “cup of blessing” was passed from the trembling hands of Mr Fleming to the hands of Jacob Holt, which trembled also, and so the very last drop of bitterness passed out of the old man’s heart forever.
The end was drawing near now, and the old squire, looking glad and solemn too, held his daughter’s hand, and welcomed them all by name as they came, and bade them farewell as they went away, “hoping to see them again,” he said, but knowing, as did they all, that it must be on “the other side.” Mr Fleming stayed when the others went away, and Elizabeth gave him her seat by her father for a little while. They had not much to say to one another. In all their intercourse the squire had been the talker, but he was past all that now. But he was not past noticing the peaceful look that had already come to the face of his friend.
“You feel better, don’t you? It has done you good?” meaning doubtless the communion they had enjoyed together with their Lord and Master.
Mr Fleming hardly knew what he meant, but he said gently, “Ay, it has done me good.”
For a moment it came into his thoughts to speak to the squire about the letter, and the joy it had brought to him at last. But he was tired and his thoughts were beginning to wander, and he doubted whether he could make him understand.
“He’ll ken where he is going,” said he to himself, but to the dying man he said nothing but “Fare ye well; and the Lord be with you in the valley.” And then he went away.
But not without a word from Elizabeth.
“Dear Mr Fleming,” said she, holding his hand when they were at the door, “you must let me say how glad I am for you and for his mother.”
“Ay, that you are, I am very sure.”
“If only it had come—long ago,” said Elizabeth.