XXXI
AUNT MIRANDA'S APOLOGY
When Rebecca alighted from the train at Maplewood and hurried to thepost-office where the stage was standing, what was her joy to see uncleJerry Cobb holding the horses' heads.
"The reg'lar driver 's sick," he explained, "and when they sent for me,thinks I to myself, my drivin' days is over, but Rebecky won't let thegrass grow under her feet when she gits her aunt Jane's letter, andlike as not I'll ketch her to-day; or, if she gits delayed, to-morrowfor certain. So here I be jest as I was more 'n six year ago. Will yoube a real lady passenger, or will ye sit up in front with me?"
Emotions of various sorts were all struggling together in the old man'sface, and the two or three bystanders were astounded when they saw thehandsome, stately girl fling herself on Mr. Cobb's dusty shouldercrying like a child. "Oh, uncle Jerry!" she sobbed; "dear uncle Jerry!It's all so long ago, and so much has happened, and we've grown so old,and so much is going to happen that I'm fairly frightened."
"There, there, lovey," the old man whispered comfortingly, "we'll beall alone on the stage, and we'll talk things over 's we go along theroad an' mebbe they won't look so bad."
Every mile of the way was as familiar to Rebecca as to uncle Jerry;every watering-trough, grindstone, red barn, weather-vane, duck-pond,and sandy brook. And all the time she was looking backward to the day,seemingly so long ago, when she sat on the box seat for the first time,her legs dangling in the air, too short to reach the footboard. Shecould smell the big bouquet of lilacs, see the pink-flounced parasol,feel the stiffness of the starched buff calico and the hated prick ofthe black and yellow porcupine quills. The drive was taken almost insilence, but it was a sweet, comforting silence both to uncle Jerry andthe girl.
Then came the sight of Abijah Flagg shelling beans in the barn, andthen the Perkins attic windows with a white cloth fluttering from them.She could spell Emma Jane's loving thought and welcome in that littlewaving flag; a word and a message sent to her just at the first momentwhen Riverboro chimneys rose into view; something to warm her hearttill they could meet.
The brick house came next, looking just as of yore; though it seemed toRebecca as if death should have cast some mysterious spell over it.There were the rolling meadows, the stately elms, all yellow and brownnow; the glowing maples, the garden-beds bright with asters, and thehollyhocks, rising tall against the parlor windows; only in place ofthe cheerful pinks and reds of the nodding stalks, with their gayrosettes of bloom, was a crape scarf holding the blinds together, andanother on the sitting-room side, and another on the brass knocker ofthe brown-painted door.
"Stop, uncle Jerry! Don't turn in at the side; hand me my satchel,please; drop me in the road and let me run up the path by myself. Thendrive away quickly."
At the noise and rumble of the approaching stage the house door openedfrom within, just as Rebecca closed the gate behind her. Aunt Jane camedown the stone steps, a changed woman, frail and broken and white.Rebecca held out her arms and the old aunt crept into them feebly, asshe did on that day when she opened the grave of her buried love andshowed the dead face, just for an instant, to a child. Warmth andstrength and life flowed into the aged frame from the young one.
"Rebecca," she said, raising her head, "before you go in to look ather, do you feel any bitterness over anything she ever said to you?"
Rebecca's eyes blazed reproach, almost anger, as she said chokingly:"Oh, aunt Jane! Could you believe it of me? I am going in with a heartbrimful of gratitude!"
"She was a good woman, Rebecca; she had a quick temper and a sharptongue, but she wanted to do right, and she did it as near as shecould. She never said so, but I'm sure she was sorry for every hardword she spoke to you; she didn't take 'em back in life, but she actedso 't you'd know her feeling when she was gone."
"I told her before I left that she'd been the making of me, just asmother says," sobbed Rebecca.
"She wasn't that," said Jane. "God made you in the first place, andyou've done considerable yourself to help Him along; but she gave youthe wherewithal to work with, and that ain't to be despised; speciallywhen anybody gives up her own luxuries and pleasures to do it. Now letme tell you something, Rebecca. Your aunt Mirandy 's willed all this toyou,--the brick house and buildings and furniture, and the land allround the house, as far 's you can see."
Rebecca threw off her hat and put her hand to her heart, as she alwaysdid in moments of intense excitement. After a moment's silence shesaid: "Let me go in alone; I want to talk to her; I want to thank her;I feel as if I could make her hear and feel and understand!"
Jane went back into the kitchen to the inexorable tasks that death hasno power, even for a day, to blot from existence. He can stalk throughdwelling after dwelling, leaving despair and desolation behind him, butthe table must be laid, the dishes washed, the beds made, by somebody.
Ten minutes later Rebecca came out from the Great Presence lookingwhite and spent, but chastened and glorified. She sat in the quietdoorway, shaded from the little Riverboro world by the overhangingelms. A wide sense of thankfulness and peace possessed her, as shelooked at the autumn landscape, listened to the rumble of a wagon onthe bridge, and heard the call of the river as it dashed to the sea.She put up her hand softly and touched first the shining brass knockerand then the red bricks, glowing in the October sun.
It was home; her roof, her garden, her green acres, her dear trees; itwas shelter for the little family at Sunnybrook; her mother would haveonce more the companionship of her sister and the friends of hergirlhood; the children would have teachers and playmates.
And she? Her own future was close-folded still; folded and hidden inbeautiful mists; but she leaned her head against the sun-warmed door,and closing her eyes, whispered, just as if she had been a child sayingher prayers: "God bless aunt Miranda; God bless the brick house thatwas; God bless the brick house that is to be!"
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm Page 31