Chapter 29 Girls of the Forest by L. T. Meade
THE CLEANSING WATERS
That very day Farmer King went away with his daughter and Pauline. They went to a small village called Rosestairs, not many miles from Easterhaze. The farmer was immensely proud and pleased at having the care of Pauline, and he was determined that if man could restore her to health, he would be that individual. Rosestairs was a very pretty little place, and quite sheltered. The Kings took lodgings in a tiny cottage, where they lived as plainly as people could. Here Pauline rested and took long walks, and, as she expressed it afterwards, found herself again. But although day by day the weight in her head grew less, the haunting words still clung to her: “Wash and be clean.” One night they entered into her dreams, and she awoke quite early with the words hovering on her lips: “Wash, Pauline; wash and be clean.” Nancy was sleeping peacefully by her side. Pauline raised her head. She felt well—absolutely well—but for those haunting words. She stole out of bed and went and stood by the window.
The sea was only a few yards off, and the waves were coming in fresh and lovely and sparkling. “Come, wash,” they seemed to say, and each soft thud of a wave on the shore seemed to repeat the words.
“I will—I will; I must,” thought the young girl.
She opened her trunk very softly, took out her bathing-dress, put it on, and ran down to the beach. There was no one about. In a moment she had entered the waves. She breasted them as far as her waist; she ducked and covered herself with the invigorating salt water. And as the sparkling salt water rolled over her, it seemed to her fancy that a load rolled off her mind. She felt light of heart and gay. She felt cheerful and happy. A few minutes later she was back in the cottage. Nancy turned in her sleep, started, opened her sleepy eyes, and looked at the dripping figure standing in the middle of the room.
“Why, Paulie,” she cried, “what are you doing? Oh, you are dripping wet; your hair and all. What have you been at?”
“I am wet because I have washed. I have washed and I am clean. Oh, Nancy, Nancy! it is as right as possible. The terrible, haunting words have gone, and the longing for the sea has gone. I know that I am forgiven. Nancy, do you hear? I am washed, and I am clean. Oh! I know at last what it means.”
“For goodness’ sake take off those wet things and get back into bed and let me warm you up. You will catch your death.”
“My death!” cried Pauline, “when I am so happy I scarcely know how to contain myself.”
Nancy sprang out of bed, dragged Pauline towards her, and helped her to pull off her wet things. Then she wrapped her up in her warm night-dress, made her cuddle down in bed, and kissed her and hugged her.
“Oh, dear!” she said, “you are the queerest girl; but your face looks as it did long ago.”
“I feel as I did long ago—or, rather, I feel different. I was a child then and did not understand much. Now, it seems to me, I understand a great deal—yes, a great deal. Oh! and there is your father in the garden. I must dress; I must go to him.”
So Pauline jumped out of bed, got quickly into her clothes, and ran out to join the farmer.
“Mr. King,” she cried, “I am quite well again.”
“It looks like it, little missy,” said the farmer.
“I am,” repeated Pauline. “I am as perfectly well as a girl can be. You know how often I told you I wanted to wash and be clean. I had my wash this morning, and it was really what I did want, for that dull feeling has left my head. I know just everything, and how I behaved, and all the rest, and I am prepared to take the bitter as well as the sweet. It is very, very sweet living here with you and Nancy, and whatever happens, you will be my friends as long as I live. And it is very bitter to think that I must tell Aunt Sophia and Verena and the rest of them the whole truth; but, bitter or not, I am going to do it, and I am going back to them, for it is right. I want to go back to them this very day. May I?”
“Yes, my lass; I understand you,” said the farmer gravely.
It was a lovely day for the time of year; although it was November, the sun shone brilliantly. Miss Tredgold stood on the lawn in front of the house and talked to Verena, who stood by her side.
“I understand all of you now, Verena,” she said, “except Pauline. I never did understand her, and I sometimes think I never shall, poor child!”
“Oh, yes, you will,” said Verena. “When Paulie comes back she will be as you never knew her—as she used to be, her sweetest and best. In some ways she is stronger and better and braver than any of us. I think she ought to make a splendid woman some day, for she has so much character and so much determination.”
“I think I have done the rest of you good by coming here; but if I have done Pauline harm, I sometimes wonder if I can ever be happy again,” said the poor lady.
“You have not done her harm. Only wait until she comes back. She is just getting the right treatment now. She felt everything so terribly that her mind was quite numb and incapable of conducting her right for a time; but wait until she returns.”
“Day after day I long and hope for her return,” said Miss Tredgold, “but day after day there is a fresh excuse.”
“And yet you say you want her to return,” said Verena. “Oh, aunty, aunty! who is this coming up the path? Here she is—Paulie herself; and Nancy is following her, and there is Farmer King. They have entered by the wicket-gate and are coming up through the plantation. Oh, look, look! And she is well. I know by the way she walks, by the way she runs, by the way she smiles. She is as well as ever she was in all her life.”
“Better—far better than ever!” cried Pauline’s gay and almost rollicking voice. “Here I am, stronger than ever, and quite, quite well.”
The next moment Pauline’s arms were flung round her aunt’s neck.
“You must forgive me first of all,” she said. “I have come back to confess, and I want to get my confession over. I want all the others to stand round and listen. Ah! here they come. Don’t rush at me for a moment, girls. Don’t hug me or do anything of that sort. Stand still and listen, listen, listen. I was rebellious, and I did wrong, and——”
“My darling,” interrupted Miss Tredgold, “we know the whole story. We only want you to confess that you did wrong, and then never, never to allude to it again; for I see, Pauline, by your eyes that you mean to do right now.”
“I will obey you because I love you,” said Pauline.
“There, madam! I think she is pretty well restored,” cried the farmer. “And she is the best young lady in the world. Nancy and I have brought her home, and now, with your permission, madam, we will take our leave.”
“Nothing of the sort!” cried Miss Tredgold. “If you did wrong, Pauline, I was by no means altogether in the right. I little knew when I told you, my dears, to have nothing more to do with Farmer King and his daughter, that I was preventing your enjoying the society of a gentleman. Please shake hands with me, Mr. King.”
Farmer King’s face was quite pale with emotion.
“I admire you; I thank you,” said Miss Tredgold. “You are a man in a thousand;” and again she held out her hand.
This time Farmer King wrung it. But he was absolutely speechless; not a single word passed his lips.
“Nancy,” said Miss Tredgold, “I revoke what I said. You must come and see my girls whenever you like.”
“On condition, madam,” said the farmer, “that the young ladies sometimes come to see Nancy and me.”
“Certainly,” said Miss Tredgold; “but I also must put in a condition.”
“What is that, madam?”
“That I occasionally accompany them.”
But at this the farmer gave such a cheer of hearty goodwill that all the children joined in in spite of themselves.
“Was there ever anything quite so jolly in all the world?” cried Pauline. “I feel younger than ever, and jollier than ever. Here comes father, too. We are all together. Father, I am back again, and it is all owing to Farmer King and Nancy that I am cured. Whom shall we cry three cheers for? You give the word.”
“Aunt Sophy, of course,” cried Verena.
“Hip! hip! hurrah!” shouted the Dale family.
“And I should like to suggest a hearty cheer for my good old friend, Farmer King,” said Mr. Dale.
“And for his cure,” said Pauline.
And then the Dale family and the King family joined hands and shouted “Hip! hip! hurrah!” once more.
THE END.