There was a little dinner-party at Mr. Matheson's that evening, that the day might not pass quite unmarked by any social gathering, but the guests were few. Amongst them, however, were two who were specially welcome, namely, the new Dean of Woldcaster and his bride, formerly Hetty Stapleton.
Hetty, staunch, generous and helpful always, and particularly where the welfare of her own sex was involved, had spoken with equal plainness and good sense at the meeting of a society formed to improve the condition of working girls. The Very Rev. the Dean of Woldcaster had been present on that occasion. He was a bachelor of forty-five, and a friend of Aylmer Matheson. He had just decided that his handsome residence, in the Close at Woldcaster, needed a fitting mistress, and before long he came to the further conclusion that Miss Stapleton would be the very person to fill that position, if she would accept it.
There was another good reason for the proposal, which followed after a short interval. The dean was thoroughly in love, for the first time in his life. He confessed to Hetty that such was the case with a sort of apology, as if it were a thing to be ashamed of.
"The fact is," he exclaimed, "I have always lived such a busy life, and I have had younger brothers and sisters to look after and help on in the world, so that I have never had time until now."
Whereupon Hetty, with a laugh and a blush which became her exceedingly well, owned that she was very glad to hear it.
After this all was smooth sailing, and as the dean's bride Hetty was an important guest at Ralph's birthday dinner.
They made, all together, a very happy party, and every one rejoiced to see the joyous light in Kathleen's eyes, and to hear something of the old ring in her voice, which had been long missing.
The dean took a friend's privilege, and rallied his host on his bachelor establishment, vaunted his own happily changed condition, and advised Aylmer to follow his example. He was thinking how well that nice Miss Ellicott would suit Matheson in every way.
His wife was a little uneasy, for she knew of the old wound, and could gauge the faithfulness of the true heart that would never find room for a second love. Only Kathleen could fill the void.
The party broke up fairly early, for the dean and his wife had a long drive before them.
Aylmer walked back to Monk's How with Kathleen, for the night was lovely, and the distance not great. Ralph was in advance of them with Ger. Kathleen's hand rested on Aylmer's arm, and they walked some little way without speaking. Then she broke the silence by saying, "How well Ralph is turning out, and it is all through you. No words can tell what a blessed influence you have exerted over his life, and mine too. To think of the dear boy's choice, and his making over everything to me again as soon as possible."
"That was only just and honest. As a true man, Ralph could have done nothing else, and we can rejoice in the knowledge that he has a horror of everything that is not true and upright."
"I seem to be always accepting benefits. Every one has been so good to me, since—"
Kathleen paused. She could not bear to say what was in her mind, but Aylmer knew that she would be thinking of Mr. Torrance's death.
"Better not to look back, dear Kathleen," he said. "The prospect ahead is bright now, for you and yours, at any rate."
Kathleen noticed the sigh which followed.
"I must look back a long way, Aylmer, even to my childish days, and to the time when you took such a thankless office as that of guardian to so self-willed a girl as I was. On your part, I can see nothing but patience, kindness, unselfishness, generosity and affection, to which I was never worthy. You have always been giving, and I receiving, and I suppose it will be the same to the end. Even now, I am a petitioner, and must ask yet more at your hands. With the restoration of the property, new responsibilities rest upon me. I long to do right, but I mistrust my own judgment. I want my old guardian's help more than ever, for my boys as well as myself. I cannot stand alone."
"You know, dear Kathleen, there is nothing you can ask that I shall be unwilling to give or to do," replied Aylmer.
"I knew you would say so. You are always the same. How I wish I could do something for you, or give you, in ever so little a way, a proof that I am grateful for your goodness and—sorry for the past!"
"You can, dearest Kathleen, if you will. There is only one gift that would make me rich indeed, and you know what it is. I asked for it once before, but then—"
"I was blind and could not discern the difference. But I will not talk of the past, Aylmer. If you can really care for such a gift, it is yours, my good, faithful love. I only wish I were more worthy of you."
There was no mistaking Kathleen's sincerity, and as Aylmer drew her towards him, he knew that he at last possessed the whole heart of the only woman he had ever loved. She did not withdraw from his encircling arm, but lifted her face to his, that he might seal the compact with his lips.
It would be easy to draw a fair picture of after years, for these events happened long ago. The child Kenneth is growing up to stalwart manhood, and Ralph's name is known and honoured as that of a true servant of Christ.
Kathleen's hair has more than mere silver threads in it now, though many—her husband included—think her handsomer than ever. But the story shall end here, for it only professed to be that of A Wilful Ward, and the title no longer applies to Mrs. Matheson, wife of the senior Member for Woldshire.
THE END
