CHAPTER XI.“Domestic Happiness, thou only blissOf Paradise that has survived the fall!”About a week after Charlie’s funeral, Meg and Robert chanced to meet at the Walker home, where both had gone to see the desolate young widow.As they walked home together, both were silent. When within a block of Meg’s home they passed a little cottage, plainly the home of people in moderate circumstances. When they were just opposite the gate, a comely young woman came out of the door and called, “Supper’s ready.”Her husband, who was on the lawn in front, picked up one child, swung him on his back, while the youngster squealed with glee, and called, “Supper’s ready. Didn’t you hear Mama call, boys? The first one in gets all the hot biscuit.”Off he capered over the yard, the child on his back kicking and pounding, and crying, “Get up, old horsie,” while the other two little lads raced after him as fast as their short legs would carry them. The mother stood in the open door, her hands on her hips, watching the race, her face radiating good-humor and joy.It was such a domestic scene! Rough and uncouth though they might be, these people typified home, with all of the sweet meaning which is often lost amid the environment of wealth.Robert watched with his heart in his eyes. He noted each of the little lads, for he loved children very dearly. He saw the look of idolatrous pride on the mother’s face. He was absorbed in the delight of the domestic scene.And then they entered the house; the door closed upon them! It was as though he had been given a glimpse of Heaven through a crack in the door, which had suddenly been closed, leaving him out in the dark and the night of his own despair.Something of what he felt was in his eyes as he turned and looked at Meg. Then the veil which had obscured his mental vision was lifted, and he found himself face to face with his great soul-problem!He seemed to see her for the first time. He took in the pure little profile, the fresh red lips, the dark-lashed eyes, in a way he had never done before. He even found himself looking with tender, amused eyes at her reddish hair, and vaguely wondered what she would do if he were to call her, school-boy fashion, “Sorrel-top.”Suddenly he remembered! Not for him those charms, not for him the companionship of this winsome little creature, of whose deeper nature he had been given a glimpse, during the sad communion of the last few weeks!When they reached her gate he dared not trust himself to shake hands with her. He feared the touch of the soft little hand, and knew he must be alone to fight it out by himself.As Meg stepped up on the porch and was about to go in, a querulous voice said: “Well, I see you have been gallivanting around with Robert Malloy again. I should think he would be disgusted with you, the way you run after him!”“Oh, Auntie, don’t, please,” she pleaded, holding out her hands beseechingly.“Every one sees it,” continued the merciless voice, “even his mother. And from the way she spoke that night she was here, I could tell that she was very much displeased.”“Are you sure of that?” Meg asked quietly.“Of course I’m sure,” was the impatient answer.“Very well. I’ll see that no one has reason to criticise my actions again. Thank you for telling me. Good-night,” she said gently, as she started to her room.
“Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss
Of Paradise that has survived the fall!”
About a week after Charlie’s funeral, Meg and Robert chanced to meet at the Walker home, where both had gone to see the desolate young widow.
As they walked home together, both were silent. When within a block of Meg’s home they passed a little cottage, plainly the home of people in moderate circumstances. When they were just opposite the gate, a comely young woman came out of the door and called, “Supper’s ready.”
Her husband, who was on the lawn in front, picked up one child, swung him on his back, while the youngster squealed with glee, and called, “Supper’s ready. Didn’t you hear Mama call, boys? The first one in gets all the hot biscuit.”
Off he capered over the yard, the child on his back kicking and pounding, and crying, “Get up, old horsie,” while the other two little lads raced after him as fast as their short legs would carry them. The mother stood in the open door, her hands on her hips, watching the race, her face radiating good-humor and joy.
It was such a domestic scene! Rough and uncouth though they might be, these people typified home, with all of the sweet meaning which is often lost amid the environment of wealth.
Robert watched with his heart in his eyes. He noted each of the little lads, for he loved children very dearly. He saw the look of idolatrous pride on the mother’s face. He was absorbed in the delight of the domestic scene.
And then they entered the house; the door closed upon them! It was as though he had been given a glimpse of Heaven through a crack in the door, which had suddenly been closed, leaving him out in the dark and the night of his own despair.
Something of what he felt was in his eyes as he turned and looked at Meg. Then the veil which had obscured his mental vision was lifted, and he found himself face to face with his great soul-problem!
He seemed to see her for the first time. He took in the pure little profile, the fresh red lips, the dark-lashed eyes, in a way he had never done before. He even found himself looking with tender, amused eyes at her reddish hair, and vaguely wondered what she would do if he were to call her, school-boy fashion, “Sorrel-top.”
Suddenly he remembered! Not for him those charms, not for him the companionship of this winsome little creature, of whose deeper nature he had been given a glimpse, during the sad communion of the last few weeks!
When they reached her gate he dared not trust himself to shake hands with her. He feared the touch of the soft little hand, and knew he must be alone to fight it out by himself.
As Meg stepped up on the porch and was about to go in, a querulous voice said: “Well, I see you have been gallivanting around with Robert Malloy again. I should think he would be disgusted with you, the way you run after him!”
“Oh, Auntie, don’t, please,” she pleaded, holding out her hands beseechingly.
“Every one sees it,” continued the merciless voice, “even his mother. And from the way she spoke that night she was here, I could tell that she was very much displeased.”
“Are you sure of that?” Meg asked quietly.
“Of course I’m sure,” was the impatient answer.
“Very well. I’ll see that no one has reason to criticise my actions again. Thank you for telling me. Good-night,” she said gently, as she started to her room.