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CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE BUNDLE OF MYRRH
"'If he sleep, he shall do well,'" quoted the doctor, quietly. "Nothing but this could give him a chance of pulling through."
Diana looked up, dazed.
Sir Deryck was bending over her, scrutinizing closely, in the dim light, the quiet face upon her breast.
"Is he alive?" she whispered.
The doctor's fingers had found David's pulse.
"Alive? Why, yes," he said; "and better than merely alive. He has fallen into a natural sleep. His pulse is steadying and strengthening every moment. If he can but sleep on like this for a couple of hours, we shall be able to give him nourishment when he wakes. Don't move! I can do what has to be done, without disturbing him… So! that will do. Now tell me. Can you remain as you are for another hour or two?"
"All night, if necessary," she whispered.
"Good! Then I will place a chair behind the screen, and either a nurse, or Walters, or myself will be there, without fail; so that you can call softly, if you need help or relief."
He bent, and looked again closely at the sleeping face.
"Poor boy," he whispered, gently. "It seems to me he has, in God's providence, reached, just in time, the only thing that could save him. Keep up heart, Mrs. Rivers. Remember that every moment of contact with your vital force is vitalizing him. It is like pouring blood into empty veins; only a more subtle and mysterious process, and more wonderful in its results. Let your muscles relax, as much as possible. We can prop you with pillows, presently."
The doctor went softly out.
"All night, if necessary," repeated Diana's happy heart, in an ecstasy of hope and thankfulness. "A bundle of myrrh is my well-belovèd unto me; he shall lie all night – all night – Oh, God, send me strength to kneel on, and hold him!"
She could feel the intense life and love which filled her, enveloping him, in his deathly weakness. She bent her whole mind upon imparting to him the outflow of her vitality.
The room was very still.
Distant clocks struck the hour of midnight.
It was Christmas-day!
From an old church, just behind the hospital, where a midnight carol service was being held, came the sound of an organ, in deep tones of rolling harmony. Then, softened by intervening windows into the semblance of angelic music, rose the voices of the choristers, in the great Christmas hymn:
"Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King!"
And kneeling there, in those first moments of Christmas morning; kneeling in deepest reverence of praise and adoration, Diana's womanhood awoke, at last, in full perfection.
"Glory to the new-born King,"
the helpless Babe of Bethlehem, pillowed upon a maiden's gentle breast, clasped in a virgin mother's arms; the Babe Whose advent should hallow the birth of mortal infants, for all time;
"Born to raise the sons of earth;
Born to give them second birth."
Diana hardly knew, as she knelt on, listening to the quiet breathing at her bosom, whether the rapture which enfolded her was mostly mother-love, or wifely tenderness.
But she knew that her heart beat in unison with the heart of the Virgin Mother in Bethlehem's starlit stable.
She had seen, in one revealing ray of eternal light, the true vocation of her womanhood.
And again the organ pealed forth triumphant chords; while the voices of the distant choir carolled:
"Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King."
CHAPTER XXXIX
HOME, BY ANOTHER WAY
Each Feast of Epiphany, Mr. Goldsworthy makes a point of asking David to preach the Epiphany sermon in Brambledene Church.
The offertory, on these occasions, is always devoted to the work of the Church of the Holy Star, in Ugonduma. The offertory is always the largest in the whole year; but that may possibly be accounted for by the fact that Diana invariably puts a sovereign into the plate. David smiles as he sees it lying on the vestry table. It calls up many memories. He knows it was dropped into the plate by the hand which has given thousands to the work in Central Africa. He wears on his watch-chain, the golden coin which, on that Christmas-eve so long ago, was Diana's first offering to his work in Ugonduma.
When David mounts the pulpit stairs, and appears behind the red velvet cushion, he looks down upon his wife, sitting in the corner near the stout whitewashed pillar, its shape accentuated, as is the annual custom, by heavy wreathings of evergreens.
She has become his Lady of Mystery once more; for the love of a noble-hearted woman is a perpetual cause of wonderment to the man upon whom its richness is outpoured; nor does he ever cease to marvel, in his secret heart, that he should be the object upon which such an abandonment of tenderness is lavished.
And before the second Epiphany came round, that most wonderful of all moments in a man's life had come to David: – the moment when he first sees a small replica of himself, held tenderly in the arms of the woman he loves; when the spirit of a man new-born, looks out at him from baby eyes; when he shares his wife's love with another; yet loves to share it.
Thus, more than ever, on that occasion, was the gracious woman, wrapped in soft furs, seated beside the old stone pillar, his Lady of Mystery. Yet, as she lifted her sweet eyes to his, expectant, they were the faithful, comprehending eyes of his wife, Diana; and they seemed to say: "I am waiting. I have come for this."
Instantly the sense of inspiration filled him. With glad assurance, he gave out his text, and read the passage; conscious, as he read it, that he knew more of its full meaning than he had known when he preached upon it from that pulpit, four years before:
"When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy… And when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto Him gifts – gold, and frankincense, and myrrh."
Diana, in her motor, awaited David, outside the old lich-gate.
As he sprang in beside her, and the car glided off swiftly over the snow, she turned to him, her grey eyes soft with tender memories.
"And when they had offered their gifts, David," she said; "when the gold, and the frankincense, and the myrrh had each been accepted – what then?"
"What then?" he answered, as his hand found hers upon her muff, while into his face came the look of complete content she so loved to see: "Why then – they went home, by another way."
