Janet's Love and Service

by Margaret M. Robertson

But Harry was not destined to be a victim. As the winter wore over, Mrs Roxbury relented, and “listened to reason on the subject,” Harry said; and by and by there began to be signs of more than usual occupation in the Roxbury mansion, and preparations that were likely to throw Rosie’s modest efforts in the direction of housekeeping altogether in the shade. But Rosie was not of an envious disposition, and enjoyed her pretty things none the less, because of the magnificence of Harry’s bride. As for little Amy, she took the matter of the trousseau very coolly. Mamma was quite equal to all that, and took trouble enough, and enjoyment enough out of it all for both, and she was sure that all would be done in a right and proper manner, without anxiety or over-exertion on her part, and there was never a happier or more light-hearted little bride than she.

At first it was proposed that the two weddings should take place on the same day, but, afterwards, it was decided otherwise. It would be inconvenient for business reasons, should both the partners be away at the same time, and in those circumstances the wedding trip would be shortened. And besides, the magnificence of the Roxbury plans, would involve more trouble as to preparations, than would be agreeable or convenient; and Rose proposed to go quietly from her own home to the home Charlie was making ready for her; and it was decided that Harry’s marriage should take place in the latter part of April, and the other early in the summer.

But before April, bad news came from Will. They heard from himself first, that he had not been sometimes as well as usual, and then a letter came from Mr Ruthven to Graeme, telling her that her brother was ill with fever, quite unable to write himself; and though he did not say in so many words, that there was danger for him, this was only too easily inferred from his manner of writing.

The next letter and the next, brought no better news. It was a time of great anxiety. To Graeme it was worst of all. As the days went on, and nothing more hopeful came from him, she blamed herself that she had not at once gone to him when the tidings of his illness first reached them. It was terrible to think of him, dying alone so far from them all; and she said to herself “she might, at least, have been with him at the last.”

He would have been at home by this time, if he had been well, and this made their grief and anxiety all the harder to bear. If she could have done anything for him, or if she could have known from day to day how it was with him, even though she could not see him, or care for him, it would not have been so dreadful Graeme thought. Her heart failed her, and though she tried to interest herself still in the preparations and arrangements that had before given her so much pleasure, it was all that she could do, to go quietly and calmly about her duties, during some of these very anxious days.

She did not know how utterly despondent she was becoming, or how greatly in danger she was of forgetting for the time the lessons of hope and trust which her experience in life had taught her, till there came from Mrs Snow one of her rare, brief letters, written by her own hand, which only times of great trial had ever called forth from her.

“My bairn,” she said, “are you not among those whom nothing can harm? Absolutely nothing! Whether it be life or death that is before your brother, you hae surely nothing to fear for him, and nothing for yourself. I think he will be spared to do God’s work for a while yet. But dear, after all that has come and gone, neither you nor I would like to take it upon ourselves to say what would be wise and kind on our Father’s part; and what is wise and kind will surely come to pass.”

Their suspense did not last very long after this. Mr Ruthven’s weekly letters became more hopeful after the third one, and soon Will wrote himself, a few feeble, irregular lines, telling how his friend had watched over him, and cared for him like a brother, during all those weeks in his dreary, city lodging; and how, at the first possible moment, he had taken him home to his own house, where Mrs Millar, his mother, was caring for him now; and where he was slowly, but surely, coming back to life and health again. There was no hope of his being able to be home to Harry’s marriage, but unless something should happen to pull him sadly back again, he hoped to see the last of Rosie Elliott, and the first of his new brother Charlie.

There were a few words meant for Graeme alone, over which she shed happy, thankful tears, and wrote them down for the reading of their old friend, “Brought face to face with death, one learns the true meaning and value of life. I am glad to come back again, for your sake Graeme, and for the sake of the work that I trust I may be permitted to do.”

After this they looked forward to the wedding with lightened hearts. It was a very grand and successful affair, altogether. Amy and her bridesmaids were worthy of all the admiration which they excited, and that is saying a great deal. There were many invited guests, and somehow, it had got about that this was to be a more than usually pretty wedding, and Saint Andrew’s was crowded with lookers-on, who had only the right of kind and admiring sympathy to plead for being there. The breakfast was all that it ought to be, of course, and the bride’s travelling-dress was pronounced by all to be as great a marvel of taste and skill, as the bridal robe itself.