When he awoke Sunday morning and thought it all over, it seemed
to him that he had never been so near to perfect happiness in all his
life before.
The little birds that came and sang in the elm-tree by his window
repeated in their songs the story of his fortune. The kind old sun
beamed in upon him with warmest greeting and heartiest approval.
Out-of-doors, the very atmosphere of the May day was redolent with
all good cheer, and Ralph took great draughts of it into his lungs
as he walked with Bachelor Billy to the little chapel at the foot of
the hill, where they were used to going to attend the Sunday morning
service. In the afternoon they went, these two, out by the long way to
the breaker. Ralph looked up at the grim, black monster, and thought
of the days gone by; the days of watchfulness, of weariness, of
hopeless toil that he had spent shut up within its jarring walls.
But they were over now. He should never again climb the narrow steps
to the screen-room in the darkness of the early morning. He should
never again take his seat on the black bench to bend above the stream
of flowing coal, to breathe the thick dust, and listen to the rattling
and the roaring all day long. That time had passed, there was to be no
more grinding toil, no more harsh confinement in the heat and dust,
no more longing for the bright sunlight and the open air, nor for the
things of life that lay beyond his reach. The night was gone, the
morning was come, the May day of his life was dawning, wealth was
lying at his feet, rich love was overshadowing him; why should he not
be happy?
"Seems jest as though I hadn't never had any trouble, Uncle Billy," he
said, "as though I'd been kind o' waitin' an' waitin' all along for
jest this, an' now it's here, ain't it?"
"Yes, lad.
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