Gathered In: a Novel

Gathered In: A Novel Spence, Catherine Helen (1825-1910) A digital text sponsored by Australian Literature Electronic Gateway University of Sydney Library Sydney, Australia 2002 http://setis.library.usyd.edu.au/ozlit © University of Sydney Library. The texts and images are not to be used for commercial purposes without permission Source Text: Prepared from print edition published by Sydney University Press Sydney 1977 All quotation marks are retained as data. First Published: 1881-1882 Australian Etext Collections at women writers novels 1870-1889 Gathered In A Novel Sydney Sydney University Press 1977 Contents 1 Sorrow 5 2 Old and Young Notions of Theology 13 3 Living Prayers 18 4 Old Wounds 24 5 Uncle George Oswald's Liberality 29 6 Recognition and Severance 33 7 Harry Stalker 38 8 Departure 43 9 Across the Ocean 47 10 Tingalpa 51 11 Retrospective 56 12 George Oswald in Retirement 60 13 Cowarrel 64 14 George Oswald in a Different Aspect 68 15 Uphill Work 71 16 A Mission and a Missionary 77 17 Edith Gray and her Friend 84 18 Supper and Talk in the Men's Dining-Room 89 19 Worship in the Men's Dining-Room 93 20 Impression Made on High and Low 99 21 David Henderson's Scheme 103 22 A Surprise 108 23 A Father's Plans 113 24 A Son's Perverseness 117 25 Two Treasures 123 26 George Oswald's Will 130 27 Taking Counsel 135 28 George Oswald's Compunctions 141 29 A Squatter's Princely Liberality 147 30 Sympathy 152 31 The Blot on the Scutcheon 160 32 James Oswald's Object in Life 166 33 Hugh Carmichael 171 34 An Unexpected Coadjutor 174 35 Mrs. Oswald's Discovery 180 36 Jim Oswald's Two Shots 184 37 Sybil's Ring 188 38 The Tables Turned on Jim Oswald 192 39 Discovery and Misdirected Suspicion 199 40 Intolerable Pros and Cons 204 41 Mr. Henderson's Suspicions 209 42 Kenneth's Arrest 214 43 Uncle and Nephew 220 44 Sybil's Appeal 224 45 Faithfulle Unto Deathe 227 46 Hugh Carmichael to the Rescue 233 47 A Blunder 238 48 Sybil's Letter to Kenneth 242 49 The Trial 245 50 What Edith Thought of It 252 51 Kenneth's Second Trial 258 52 An Old Story 261 53 Kenneth's Decision 265 54 One Way of Love 268 55 Another Way of Love 273 56 George Oswald's Move 278 57 Edith Gray's Ultimatum 283 58 The Old Folks at Home 288 59 Harry Stalker's Failure 292 60 Harry Stalker Cuts the Gordian Knot 296 61 Relentings 301 62 Explanations 307 63 Unconditional Surrender 311 Gathered In Chapter 1 Sorrow “You've come owre late to see Isabel in life, Mr. McDiarmid,” said old Marion Oswald; “It's of no avail to seek to see the dead.” “I have lost no time — I started immediately on receiving the news of her dangerous state. I did not even know of her illness till yesterday,” said Norman McDiarmid, a tall distinguished-looking man, in the very prime of life, who seemed strongly agitated, and spoke with difficulty. “There's been little passing between you and her in the way of letters, and now it is all at an end. Isabel passed away at midnight.” “Was there any message for me beyond this?” and he held in his hand a letter. “She died at peace wi' a' men, an' nae doubt wi' you, and I hope and trust at peace wi' her God.” “But was there no particular message for me, Mrs. Oswald?” “What for should there be? She forgave you, as she forgave a' that had dune her ill, as free as she hoped to be forgi'en hersel' for all that lay on her conscience.” “There was no trouble, there, Mrs. Oswald? Kenneth saw no trouble?” “Only about leavin' him; and that was sair. But, no; she ne'er said word to him that I could come at that her soul was in deep waters. The minister saw her as often as three times in the week, and he was satisfied; aye, on the whole he was satisfied. She had a vision of the glory that was to follow, and rested on her Redeemer with full trust for hersel'; but her soul was grieving about the laddie. God is the father of the fatherless, the minister kept saying, but woe me! she said she kent that weel, but how was he to be mother to the motherless?” “The boy was much with her, I hope?” “All but schule time; he was maistly at the bedside, and I maun say, very handy for a laddie. A' that the minister dooted about Isabel's frame of mind in the face o' the great change, was that she had na faith to leave the bairn in God's hands, and that she had na just the full sense of sin that such worms o' the dust as we are suld have, especially with the reproach on her that she had.” “Then her mind was at peace in itself,” said Mr. McDiarmid. “She said she was sure her sins were forgiven, and lost in the ocean o' Divine Love, and said she could na just be troubled with bringing up old stories, and wi' the laddie hanging owre her, little could be said. Isabel was never the lass to put blame off hersel' on to ony other body, or she might have made her case clearer to the minister and to me; but Kenneth will never be told by me, good or bad, on the matter.” “I must see Isabel, Mrs. Oswald.” “What's the good? What's the use? Ten years have never looked near her living, and now you would fain lay a balm to your conscience by looking on her face, which is now as the face of an angel in heaven, and you will think that she hadna sae muckle to dree or she wan there. It will be harder for you, I'm thinking.” “You speak truly, Mrs. Oswald, but Isabel wrote to me that, living or dead, I was to see her, and alone. It is the last wish of one very dear to you. You must respect it.” The old woman reluctantly rose from the chair, where, with her open Bible beside her, and her knitting in her hands, she had kept her place during the stranger's visit. There was no trace of tears on the resolute face; all the emotion had been repressed, but the feelings were probably the deeper for that. She opened a door which led out of the living-room of the cottage, so low that Norman McDiarmid had to stoop to enter, admitted him, and closed the door again softly, and sat down to her knitting, taking every stitch as if it caught at her heart. It was a poor little room in a poor cottage, but beautifully clean; and there on the bed lay in her graveclothes a dead woman, apparently about thirty, with a face so heavenly in its expression of perfect repose that no one could imagine that a breath of slander or a glance of scorn could ever have come near her. For a few moments he gazed on the still face and motionless form, to which not even his sudden appearance could give the faintest impulse, in reverent awe, and then laying his lips to the cold lips of the dead, he shook and trembled with passionate, uncontrollable anguish and regret. Even the dull ears of the mother could hear the sobs of the strong man, who thus met after many years the object of so much young love. Tender memories, bitter regrets, and equally futile wishes chased each other through his mind, while he stood for a period that appeared to the mother interminable. “And this is all I can do. I cannot lay her dear head in the grave, and see the last of my poor Isabel. Only I must see the boy.” He opened the door, and Marion Oswald suddenly laid down her knitting. “Well, are you satisfied?” she asked. “I am very grateful to you for your kindness in letting me see her.” “Not her,” said the mother; “She's far enough off from you now.” “Did she suffer much, bodily I mean; was she ill long?” “Off and on, about six months; but no sair stressed till the last month or thereby.” “Could nothing further have been done? No better advice? Why did not you write to me? Could we have not saved her for the boy?” “Only for the boy,” said Marion Oswald bitterly. “Do you no think that it's an empty house now for her father and me. Whatever else she did or did not do, she was a good and dutiful bairn to us; and the laddie will get owre it lang or we will. But there was nae saving her life for ane or for the ither — she behoved to die — the heart would do its work nae langer.” “Do not suppose I do not feel for your heavy share in the bereavement. It may be that you will feel the loss more than the boy, but he really loses more. Just ten the 15th day of March. I must see him. Where is Kenneth?” “Oh! the laddie's out bye, but ye canna see him.” “But she says I must see him; she cared more for that than that I should see herself.” “Some other time; no now.

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