Chapter XXXI: Aunt Miranda's Apology

by Kate Douglas Wiggin

　　When Rebecca alighted from the trainat Maplewood and hurried to the post-office where the stage was standing,what was her joy to see uncle Jerry Cobb holdingthe horses' heads.

　　"The reg'lar driver 's sick," he explained, "andwhen they sent for me, thinks I to myself, mydrivin' days is over, but Rebecky won't let the grassgrow under her feet when she gits her aunt Jane'sletter, and like as not I'll ketch her to-day; or, ifshe gits delayed, to-morrow for certain. So here Ibe jest as I was more 'n six year ago. Will you bea real lady passenger, or will ye sit up in frontwith me?"

　　Emotions of various sorts were all strugglingtogether in the old man's face, and the two orthree bystanders were astounded when they sawthe handsome, stately girl fling herself on Mr.Cobb's dusty shoulder crying like a child. "Oh,uncle Jerry!" she sobbed; "dear uncle Jerry! It'sall so long ago, and so much has happened, andwe've grown so old, and so much is going to happenthat I'm fairly frightened."

　　"There, there, lovey," the old man whisperedcomfortingly, "we'll be all alone on the stage, andwe'll talk things over 's we go along the road an'mebbe they won't look so bad."

　　Every mile of the way was as familiar to Rebeccaas to uncle Jerry; every watering-trough, grindstone,red barn, weather-vane, duck-pond, and sandybrook. And all the time she was looking backwardto the day, seemingly so long ago, when she sat onthe box seat for the first time, her legs dangling inthe air, too short to reach the footboard. She couldsmell the big bouquet of lilacs, see the pink-flouncedparasol, feel the stiffness of the starched buff calicoand the hated prick of the black and yellow porcupinequills. The drive was taken almost in silence,but it was a sweet, comforting silence both touncle Jerry and the girl.

　　Then came the sight of Abijah Flagg shellingbeans in the barn, and then the Perkins attic windowswith a white cloth fluttering from them. Shecould spell Emma Jane's loving thought and welcomein that little waving flag; a word and a messagesent to her just at the first moment whenRiverboro chimneys rose into view; something towarm her heart till they could meet.

　　The brick house came next, looking just as ofyore; though it seemed to Rebecca as if deathshould have cast some mysterious spell over it.There were the rolling meadows, the stately elms,all yellow and brown now; the glowing maples,the garden-beds bright with asters, and the hollyhocks,rising tall against the parlor windows; onlyin place of the cheerful pinks and reds of thenodding stalks, with their gay rosettes of bloom,was a crape scarf holding the blinds together, andanother on the sitting-room side, and another onthe brass knocker of the brown-painted door.

　　"Stop, uncle Jerry! Don't turn in at the side;hand me my satchel, please; drop me in the roadand let me run up the path by myself. Then driveaway quickly."

　　At the noise and rumble of the approachingstage the house door opened from within, just asRebecca closed the gate behind her. Aunt Janecame down the stone steps, a changed woman,frail and broken and white. Rebecca held out herarms and the old aunt crept into them feebly, asshe did on that day when she opened the grave ofher buried love and showed the dead face, just foran instant, to a child. Warmth and strength andlife flowed into the aged frame from the young one.

　　"Rebecca," she said, raising her head, "beforeyou go in to look at her, do you feel any bitternessover anything she ever said to you?"

　　Rebecca's eyes blazed reproach, almost anger, asshe said chokingly: "Oh, aunt Jane! Could youbelieve it of me? I am going in with a heart brimfulof gratitude!"

　　"She was a good woman, Rebecca; she had aquick temper and a sharp tongue, but she wantedto do right, and she did it as near as she could.She never said so, but I'm sure she was sorry forevery hard word she spoke to you; she didn't take'em back in life, but she acted so 't you'd know herfeeling when she was gone."

　　"I told her before I left that she'd been the makingof me, just as mother says," sobbed Rebecca

　　"She wasn't that," said Jane. "God made youin the first place, and you've done considerable yourselfto help Him along; but she gave you the wherewithalto work with, and that ain't to be despised;specially when anybody gives up her own luxuriesand pleasures to do it. Now let me tell you something,Rebecca. Your aunt Mirandy 's willed all thisto you,--the brick house and buildings and furniture,and the land all round the house, as far 's youcan see."

　　Rebecca threw off her hat and put her hand toher heart, as she always did in moments of intenseexcitement. After a moment's silence she said:"Let me go in alone; I want to talk to her; I wantto thank her; I feel as if I could make her hear andfeel and understand!"

　　Jane went back into the kitchen to the inexorabletasks that death has no power, even for a day, toblot from existence. He can stalk through dwellingafter dwelling, leaving despair and desolation behindhim, but the table must be laid, the dishes washed,the beds made, by somebody.

　　Ten minutes later Rebecca came out from theGreat Presence looking white and spent, but chastenedand glorified. She sat in the quiet doorway,shaded from the little Riverboro world by theoverhanging elms. A wide sense of thankfulness andpeace possessed her, as she looked at the autumnlandscape, listened to the rumble of a wagon on thebridge, and heard the call of the river as it dashedto the sea. She put up her hand softly and touchedfirst the shining brass knocker and then the redbricks, glowing in the October sun.

　　It was home; her roof, her garden, her greenacres, her dear trees; it was shelter for the littlefamily at Sunnybrook; her mother would have oncemore the companionship of her sister and the friendsof her girlhood; the children would have teachersand playmates.

　　And she? Her own future was close-folded still;folded and hidden in beautiful mists; but she leanedher head against the sun-warmed door, and closingher eyes, whispered, just as if she had been achild saying her prayers: "God bless aunt Miranda;God bless the brick house that was; God bless thebrick house that is to be!"