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So Rahal was satisfied, and went with the rest to help Mistress Brodie prepare for her dance. There were women in the kitchen making pies and custards and jellies, and women in her parlours cleaning and decorating them, and women in the great hall taking up carpets because it was a favourite place for reels, and women washing China and trimming lamps.
"There is little to wonder at in the churches disagreeing about Miss Nightingale," said Rahal, "it is not to be expected that they would believe in her, when they do not believe in each other." As she spoke she stepped to the fireside and touched the bell rope, and a servant entered and began to clear the table and put more wood on the fire, and to turn out one of the lamps at Rahal's order.
He sends all his undying love, and if indeed these wounds mean his death, he is dying gloriously and happily, trusting God implicitly, and loving even his enemies a thing Adam Vedder cannot understand. He found out before he was twenty years old that loving his enemies was beyond his power and that nothing could make him forgive them. Our dear Boris! Oh, Rahal! Rahal! Poor stricken mother!
At this point, Rahal rose and a servant came in and began to clear the table and carry away the remains of the meal. Then Rahal rose and took Thora's hand and Ian went with them to the parlour. She spoke kindly to Ian who at her first words burst into bitter weeping, into an almost womanly burst of uncontrollable distress.
"What can a sensible man like Boris Ragnor see in such a harum-scarum girl!" was Rahal Ragnor's question, and Barbara Brodie thought it was all Adam Vedder's fault.
And when he saw a little table drawn to the hearth for him and quickly spread with the food he needed and smelled the refreshing odour of the young Hyson, and heard the pleasant tinkle of china and glass and silver as Thora placed them before the large chair he was to occupy, he sat down happily to eat and drink, while Thora served him, and Conall smoked and watched them with a now-and-then smile or word or two, while Rahal and Barbara talked, and Ian played charmingly with soft pedal down quotations from Beethoven's "Pastoral Symphony" and "Hark, 'Tis the Linnet!" from the oratorio, "Joshua."
"She might, a little way no further just as well 'no further. Only God is wise enough, and patient enough, to read a human heart. This is a great mercy." And Rahal lifted her face from her sewing a moment and then dropped it again. Almost in a whisper Sunna said "Good-bye!" and then went her way home.
"He asked, quite scornfully, in what sense I found them more fitting, and I answered rather warmly 'Why, sir, sitting together in chairs, we felt so much more at home. We were like one great family in our Father's house." "Are the chairs rented?" asked Rahal. "Rented!" cried Ragnor scornfully. "No, indeed! There are no dear chairs and no cheap chairs, all are equal and all are free.
The silence was broken by the sound of quick, firm footsteps. Ragnor listened a moment and then went with alacrity to open the door. "I knew it was thee!" he cried. "O sir, I am glad to see thee! Come in, come in! None can be more welcome!" And it was good to hear the strong, sweet modulations of the voice that answered him. "It is Bishop Hedley!" said Rahal. "Then I am going," said Aunt Barbara.
Then in a blessed moment, Rahal whispered, "They are coming!" "Both? Both, Mother?" "Both!" "Thank God!" And she would have cried out her thanks and bathed them in joyful tears if she had been alone. But Ian must not see her weeping. Now, especially, he must be met with smiles. And then, when she felt herself in Ian's embrace, they were both weeping.
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