Chapter Twenty One.
Trying Days.
One May afternoon Miles came home with the news that, through the influence of an engineering friend, he had been offered a post in connection with a new railway which the ever-increasing mining industry in Mexico had rendered necessary. The salary proposed was a handsome one for so young a man. He owed the offer entirely to Mr Owen’s good offices, and would be required to sail as soon as his outfit could be got together.
Dr Trevor rejoiced in his son’s success, and warmly congratulated him on having had so short a time to wait for an opening. He took a man’s view of life, and felt that it was time that Miles faced the world on his own account; but the youth faded out of the mother’s face as she sat in her corner and listened to the conversation.
“Luck!” They called it luck that Miles, her darling, should be sent to the other side of the world, to a wild, dare-devil country, the very name of which conjured up a dozen thrilling tales of adventure. “A five years’ appointment!” The words rang like a knell in her ears!
Of course, she had known all along that a separation must come, but she had hoped against hope that an opening might be found somewhere within the borders of the United Kingdom, when she would still be able to feel within reach in case of need. Now it was indeed good-bye, since it must at best be a matter of years before she could hope for another meeting. Oh, this stirring up of the nest, how it tears the mother’s heart!
Mrs Trevor looked across the room to where Miles stood, almost as tall and broad as the doctor himself, and her thoughts flew back to the time when he was a little curly-headed boy who vowed he would never leave his mother. “I won’t never get married,” he had announced one day. “You shall be my wife. You are daddy’s wife, and I don’t see why you shouldn’t be wife to both your darlin’s!” Another day—“I’ll stay with you all my life, and when you’re a nold, nold woman I’ll wheel you about in a Barf chair.” Later on had come the time when the first dawning of future responsibility began to weigh on the childish mind—“I can’t sink how I can ever make pennies like daddy does! I can’t write proper letters like grown-ups do, only the printed ones!” he had sighed, and she had bidden him be a good boy and do his best for the day, leaving the future in God’s hand. “God will give you your work!” she had told him; and how she and his father had rejoiced together when his absorption in a box of tools, and his ingenuity therewith, had pointed out a congenial career. She had prayed and trusted for guidance in bringing up this dear son, and that being so, she must now believe that the offered post was the right thing, and that the distant land was just the very spot of all others where God wished him to be.
When Miles turned to his mother, she had a smile in readiness for him, and if it were rather tremulous, it was none the less sweet. She would not allow herself to break down, but threw herself heart and soul into a study of the Stores’ list, which could not be delayed another day, seeing that it was suggested that Miles should sail in a week’s time. A week! Only one week! Was it really possible that the following day was the last Sunday which would see a united family circle round the table?