A Soldier's Son

  Produced by Al Haines.

  Cover art]

  A

  Soldier's Son

  _By_

  MAUDE M. BUTLER

  DAVIS & BOND

  BOSTON : MASS.

  Copyright 1912

  by

  DAVIS & BOND

  LINCOLN & SMITH PRESS

  BOSTON

  DEDICATION.

  To the children in years, and the children in Science, this little book is trustingly and lovingly inscribed by the author.

  NOTE.

  The Author wishes to state that no case of Christian Science healing has been cited in this story but such as she has known of a parallel case in real life.

  "We may not climb the heavenly steepsTo bring the Lord Christ down.* * * * *The healing of the seamless dressIs by our beds of pain;We touch Him in life's throng and press,And we are whole again." --_J. G. Whittier._

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  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I.--HOME FROM THE WAR. CHAPTER II.--CAROL'S LETTER. CHAPTER III.--A FORBIDDEN BOOK. CHAPTER IV.--A WELCOME LETTER. CHAPTER V.--QUIET DAYS. CHAPTER VI.--FIRST WORK IN THE VINEYARD. CHAPTER VII.--"I KNOW." CHAPTER VIII.--A SECOND VISIT TO THE COTTAGE. CHAPTER IX.--"IT IS THE TRUTH." CHAPTER X.--AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. CHAPTER XI.--PERCY'S REMORSE. CHAPTER XII.--THE PHYSICIAN'S VERDICT. CHAPTER XIII.--THE RECTOR'S REFUSAL. CHAPTER XIV.--"HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." CHAPTER XV.--LETTERS AND TELEGRAMS REACH COUSIN ALICIA. CHAPTER XVI.--"IT IS A MIRACLE." CHAPTER XVII.--MRS. BURTON VISITS CAROL. CHAPTER XVIII.--HAPPY THOUGHTS. CHAPTER XIX.--THE REASON OF THE DELAY. CHAPTER XX.--"LIGHT AT EVENTIDE." CHAPTER XXI.--JOYFUL NEWS FROM ELOISE. CHAPTER XXII.--THE RETURN OF ELOISE. CHAPTER XXIII.--A LONG-DELAYED LETTER. CHAPTER XXIV.--A JOYFUL SURPRISE. CHAPTER XXV.--A LITTLE SERVICE. CHAPTER XXVI.--CONCLUSION.

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  CHAPTER I.--HOME FROM THE WAR.

  The war was over--the cruel, cruel war; and Father and Uncle Howard wereon their way home. Children's voices, in every key of joy andthanksgiving, sang the happy news from morning to night. The white,strained look faded from Mother's face, and she became her old, brightself again.

  Now that they were over, the children tried to forget how long and sadand weary the days had been during which the sight of the post-bag, andthe morning newspaper, almost took everyone's breath away, until thecolumns of "War news" had been hastily scanned before taking letters andpapers to Mother's room.

  Then came the day when Uncle Howard's name was amongst the "seriouslywounded," and there was a brief account of how he had saved the guns,and then returning into the firing line to pick up a wounded soldier,had himself been dangerously wounded.

  The children thought of Uncle Howard's delicate young motherless boy,and sobbed: "Poor, poor Carol."

  They did not know how to break the news to Mother, because Uncle Howardwas her twin brother, and they all knew how dearly she loved him.Unperceived she had entered the room, and had learned the news forherself. The days that followed were darker than before, for it was notknown for some weeks if Major Willmar would live or die. Gradually,slightly better news came, and he was pronounced out of danger. Lateron it was announced he was ordered home, and Father, Colonel Mandeville,was coming with him.

  As soon as the vessel left Cape Town the children began their happy,joyous preparations for the welcome home. Then, in the midst of them,when the triumphal arches were erected, awaiting only the final floraldecorations, came a telegram from Gibraltar. Major Willmar had suffereda relapse at sea, and the doctors had not been able to save him. Hisbody had been committed to the waves.

  Again the children sobbed: "Poor, poor Carol."

  Mother was strangely calm and quiet. "Carol must come to us. We musttake the place to him of all he has lost," she said.

  She wrote to the lady who had charge of him, asking her to take the boyto meet the vessel at Plymouth, in order that Colonel Mandeville mightbring Carol home with him.

  All the children, seven in number, were at the station when the expressdrew up. Edith and Gwendolin, two tall fair girls of twelve andthirteen years; Percy and Frank, eleven and ten; then three of thedearest little maidens, Sylvia four, Estelle three, and the sweetRosebud, whom Father had never seen. She had come to cheer Mother'sbreaking heart in the dark days of the war, and was now two years old.

  It was an unusual occurrence for an express train to stop at that quietcountry station. The porters were on the alert to drag out the luggageas quickly as possible. A tall bronzed and bearded man sprang out ofthe train on the instant of stopping, so changed that even the elderchildren scarcely recognized him.

  He looked at them with hungry eyes, as if he would take them all in hisarms at once, had they been big enough to go round, then seized thesmallest of all, the little snow-white maiden.

  "Iz 'ou Daddy?" she asked.

  "I am Daddy, my little white Rosebud." One by one he took each in hisstrong arms. All looking to him, no one noticed the boy who had followedhim out of the railway carriage, who was now looking on with wonderingeyes. Rosebud was the first to speak to him. "Iz 'ou Tarol?" sheasked. Stooping, he too folded his arms around her, not such strong armsas her father's, but very loving. From that moment the little maidenbecame one of the dearest things in life to the boy.

  "Where's Mother, children?"

  "Mother did not feel quite able to come to the station, Father. Shebore the news of dear Uncle's death so well at first; then she brokedown entirely, and she has not left her room since," Edith told him.The Colonel then remembered the boy who had accompanied him.

  "Children, here is Carol."

  They quickly gave him the loving welcome which their sympathetic heartsprompted. Father suggested sending on the carriage, saying to thechildren:

  "We will walk through the park. Oh, the sweet breath of the dear homeland, after Africa's sultry heat!"

  Carol kept hold of Rosebud's hand. The little maiden was a revelationto him, never having had little sisters or brothers of his own. Hismother for a long time before her death had been a hopeless invalid, andwhilst she was slowly dying of consumption the boy had developedtubercular disease of the left hip, and the physicians, who pronouncedit a hopeless case, also said one lung was affected. Three years theboy lay on his back on a couch, or in a spinal carriage, and it wasgenerally anticipated he would quickly follow his mother to an earlygrave. But after Mrs. Willmar's death a cousin of hers came from Americato take charge of the motherless boy, and from the day that she came hebegan to get better. Now, as he walked with his cousins across thepark, though somewhat tall for his twelve years and extremely slight ofstature, he bore no trace of his past sufferings.

  On arriving at the Manor, Colonel Mandeville went straight to his wife'sroom, mounting the staircase two steps at a time. The children tookCarol to the school-room, saying, "Mother will send for you presently,dear Carol."

  School-room tea was ready, and to their great delight the three littlegirls, who belonged of course to the nursery, were invited to bepresent. Before they sat down each child had a little offering to makeCarol, not a new gift they had bought for him, but one of their owntreasures, just to make him feel how glad they
were to have him: thathenceforth he was to be their own dear brother.

  It was all so strange and new to him, he did not know how to thank them.Rosebud's offering of her little white bunny was so perfectly sweet. Itbecame a treasure of treasures to him ever after. He was strangelyquiet, but there seemed no sadness in his eyes or voice. His cousinscould not understand it, and even wondered if he had loved his father asthey loved theirs.

  Tea was just finished when the message came for Carol to go to Mother'sroom. All the children wanted to accompany him, but the maid who broughtthe message said: "Only Master Carol was to go," and she led the boy toMrs. Mandeville's room.

  Carol had only once before seen his aunt. She had visited his home inDevonshire when his mother was very ill, and he himself had been too illto care or notice who came and went.

  Mrs. Mandeville was lying on a couch in her boudoir. She was a tall,fair woman, of a gentle yielding nature, and a beautiful countenance.Never strong or robust, for some years she had been subject to attacksof nervous prostration. The joyous excitement of her husband's safereturn, and the grief for her brother's death, had brought on one ofthese attacks. She sobbed aloud as she drew Carol into her arms andheld him closely to her.

  "My darling boy!"

  "Auntie, dear, do not grieve like this."

  "Carol, I loved your father very, very, dearly."

  "But, Auntie, that should make you not grieve for him. Cousin Aliciahas taught me to feel so glad and happy about Father. I could not cryor be sorry now. I love to think how he gave his life for that poor,wounded soldier. Jesus said there was no greater love than to lay downone's life for a friend, and it was not even a friend; it was astranger. Some day there will be no more war, because everyone willknow that God is our Father, and His name is Love. But we are only Hischildren as we reflect Him--reflect Love. When everyone understandsthis, no one will want war."

  Mrs. Mandeville looked with surprise at the earnest young face, socalmly confident of what he said.

  "It is nice to see you, Carol, looking so well and strong. You werevery ill when I saw you two years ago. We have never been able tounderstand your recovery. What a mistake the doctors must have madeabout your case."

  "Auntie, they did not make a mistake. It was Cousin Alicia who taught meabout Christian Science. Then I began to get well, and I soon lost thedreadful pain in my hip."

  "Carol, dear, never mention a word about Christian Science before yourUncle Raymond. He says it is dreadful heresy, and it makes him so angryto hear it talked about. Did he meet you at the station?"

  "No, Auntie. I have not seen him yet."

  "He said he would meet the train but he generally manages to get toolate. He will be here this evening for dinner."

  Uncle Raymond was Mrs. Mandeville's brother, and the rector of theparish.

  "But, Auntie, if he asks anything about my illness I must tell him whathas made me well."

  "I do not think he will, dear; so there will be no need to say anything.It is very beautiful, Carol, for you to think Christian Science hashealed you, and there is no need for your faith to be shaken."

  "I do not _think_, Auntie, I _know_, so that no one could shake myfaith."

  "Well, dear, we won't talk about it. Tell me, did you have a pleasantjourney?"

  "Yes, Auntie, a very pleasant journey; Uncle was so kind to me."

  "I am sure he would be, Carol. You are glad to come to us, darling--tobe our own dear son? You will feel this is home, and your cousins notcousins, but brothers and sisters?"

  "Yes, Auntie. I know my father wished me to come to you--but--I amsorry to leave Cousin Alicia. I love her so much."

  "Of course, darling, that is only natural. She has been quite a motherto you since your own dear mother died."

  Carol did not speak; a choking sensation of pain prevented him. He knewthat Cousin Alicia had been more than a mother to him.

  "May I write to her to-night, Auntie? She will like to hear from me."

  "Of course, dear. Write to her as often as you like."

  "I think that will be every day then," the boy said promptly, with asmile. Mrs. Mandeville smiled too.

  "Dear boy, how you have comforted me. I feel so much better for thislittle talk with you. Perhaps I shall be able to surprise everybody,and go down to dinner this evening."

  "Oh, Auntie, please do. At tea Edith said, 'It would be just lovely ifonly Mother could come down to dinner.' We can nearly always do what wewant to do, Auntie."

  "Can we, dear? Then go and write your letter now, and do not mention toanyone that I am going to try to surprise them this evening."