God's Good Man Part 74

Walden's eyes were full of sorrowful pain and yearning.

"Well!" he said, with a slight sigh--"And what then?"

"What then?" responded Dr. 'Jimmy' cheerfully--"Why nothing,--except that it will be more satisfactory to everyone concerned,--and to me particularly--to have his opinion."

There was a pause. John gazed down into the fire as though he saw a whole world of mingled grief and joy reflected in its crimson glow.

Then, suddenly lifting his head, he looked his friend full in the face.

"Forsyth,"--he said--"I think I ought to tell you--you ought to know--I am going to marry her!"

Without a word, 'Jimmy' gripped his hand and pressed it hard. Then he turned very abruptly, and walked up and down the little room. And presently he drew out his gla.s.ses and polished them vigorously though they were in no need of this process.

"I thought you would!" he said, after a while--"Of course I saw how the land lay! I knew you loved her---"

"I suppose that was easy to guess!" said John, a warm flush of colour rising to his brows as he spoke--"But you could not have imagined for a moment that she would love me! Yet she does! That is the wonder of it! I am such an old humdrum fellow--and she is so young and bright and pretty! It seems so strange that she should care!"

Dr. Forsyth looked at him with an appreciative twinkle in his eye.

Then he laid a friendly hand upon his shoulder,

"You are a quaint creature, John!" he said--"Yet, do you know, I rather like your humdrum ways? I do, positively! And if I were a woman, I think I should esteem myself fortunate if I got you for a husband! I really should! You certainly don't suffer from swelled head, John--that's a great point in your favour!"

He laughed,--and John laughed with him. Then, drawing their chairs to opposite sides of the fire, they talked for an hour or more on the subject that was most interesting to them both, John was for marrying Maryllia as soon as possible--"in order that I may have the right to watch over her," he urged, and Forsyth agreed.

"But wait till Santori has seen her, and given his opinion,"--he said--"If he comes, as his telegram says he will to-morrow, we can take him entirely into our confidence, to decide what is best for her peace and pleasure. The ceremony of marriage can be gone through privately at the Manor,--by the way, why don't you ask your friend the Bishop to officiate? I suppose he knows the position?"

"He knows much, but not all,"--said John--"I wrote to him about the accident of course--and have written to him frequently since, but I did not think I should ever have such news to tell him as I have now!" His eyes darkened with deep feeling. "He has had his own tragedy--he will understand mine!"

A silence fell between them,--and soon after, Forsyth took his leave. Walden, left alone, and deeply conscious of the new responsibility he had taken upon his life, set to work to get through his parish business for the evening, in order to have time to devote to Maryllia the next day, and, writing a long letter to Bishop Brent, he told him all the history of his late-found happiness,--his hopes, his sorrows, his fears--and his intention to show what a man's true love could be to a woman whom unkind destiny had deprived of all the natural joys of living. He added to this letter a few words referring to Forsyth's information respecting the Italian specialist, Santori, who had been sent for to see Maryllia and p.r.o.nounce on her condition--"but I fear," he wrote, "that there is nothing to be done, save to resign ourselves to the apparently cruel and incomprehensible will of G.o.d, which in this case has declared itself in favour of allowing the innocent to suffer."

Next morning he awoke to find the sun s.h.i.+ning brightly from a sky almost clear blue, save for a few scattered grey fleecy clouds,-- and, stepping out into his garden, the first thing he noticed was a root of primroses breaking shyly into flower. Seeing Bainton tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the shrubbery close by, he called his attention to it.

"Spring is evidently on the way, Bainton!" he said cheerily, "We are getting past the white into the gold again!"

"Ay, Pa.s.son, that we be!" rejoined Bainton, with a smile--"An'

please the Lord, we'll soon get from the gold into the blue, an'

from the blue into the rose! For that's allus the way o' the year,-- first little white shaky blossoms wot's a bit afraid of theirselves, lest the frost should nip 'em,--and then the deep an' the pale an'

the bright gold blossoms, which just laughs at dull weather--an'

then the blue o' the forget-me-nots an' wood-bells,--an' the red o'

the roses to crown all. An' mebbe," he continued, with a shrewd upward glance at his master's face--"when the roses come, there'll be a bit of orange-blossom to keep 'em company---"

John started,--and then his kind smile, so warm and sunny and sweet, shone like a beam of light itself across his features.

"What, Bainton!" he said--"So you know all about it already!"

Bainton began to chuckle irrepressibly.

"Well, if the village ain't a liar from its one end to its t'otherest, then I knows!" he declared triumphantly--"Lord love ye, Pa.s.son, you don't s'pose ye can keep any secrets in this 'ere parish? They knows all about ye 'fore ye knows yerself!--an' Missis Spruce she came down from the Manor last night in such a state o'

fl.u.s.ter as never was, an' she sez, all shakin' like an' smilin'-- 'Miss Maryllia's goin' to be married,' sez she, an' we up an' sez to 'er--'What, is the Dook goin' to 'ave her just the same though she can't walk no more?' an' she sez: 'Dook, not a bit of it! There's a better man than any Dook close by an' it's 'im she's goin' to 'ave an' n.o.body else, an' it's Pa.s.son Walden,' sez she, an' with that we all gives a big shout, an' she busts out cryin' an' laughin'

together, an' we all doos the same like the nesh fools we are when a bit o' news pleases us like,--an'--an'---" Here Bainton's voice grew rather husky and tremulous as he proceeded--"so of course the news went right through the village two minutes arterwards. An' it's all we could do to keep from comin' up outside 'ere an' givin' ye a rousin' cheer 'fore goin' to bed, onny Mr. Netlips 'e said it wouldn't be 'commensurate,' wotever that is, so we just left it.

Howsomever, I made up my mind I'd be the first to wish ye joy, Pa.s.son!--an' I wish it true!"

Silently Walden held out his hand. Bainton grasped it with affectionate respect in his own h.o.r.n.y palm.

"Not that I'd 'ave ever thought you'd a' bin a marryin' man, Pa.s.son!" he averred, his shrewd eyes lighting up with the kindliest humour--"But it's never too late to mend!"

Walden laughed.

"That's true, Bainton! It's never too late to repent of one's follies and begin to be wise! Thank you for all your good wishes-- they come from the heart, I know! But"--and his smile softened into an earnest gravity of expression--"they must be for her--for Miss Maryllia--not for me! I am already happier than I deserve--but she needs everyone's good thoughts and prayers to help her to bear her enforced helplessness--she is very brave--yet--it is hard---"

He broke off, not trusting himself to say more.

"It's hard--it's powerful hard!" agreed Bainton, sympathetically-- "Such a wife as she'd a' made t'ye, Pa.s.son, if she'd been as she was when she come in smilin' an' trippin' across this lawn by your side, an' ye broke off a bit o' your best lilac for her! There's the very bush--all leafless twigs now, but strong an' 'elthy an' ready to bloom again! Ah! I remember that day well!--'twas the same day as ye sat under the apple tree arter she was gone an' fastened a threepenny bit with a 'ole in it to ye're watch chain! I seed it!

An' I was fair mazed over that 'oley bit,--but I found out all about it!--hor-hor-hor!" and Bainton began to laugh with exceeding delight at his own perspicuity--"A few minutes' gossip with old Missis Tapple at the post-office did it!--hor-hor-hor! for she told me, bless 'er heart!--as 'ow Miss Vancourt 'ad given it t'ye for fun, as a sort o' reward like for sendin' off some telegrams for 'er! Hor- hor! There's naught like a village for findin' out everybody's little secrets, an' our village beats every other one I ever heard tell on at that kind o' work, it do reely now! I say, Pa.s.son, when they was spreadin' all the stories round about you an' Miss Vancourt, I could a' told a tale about the 'oley bit, couldn't I?"

"You could indeed!" laughed John, good-naturedly--"and yet--I suppose you didn't!"

"Not I!" said Bainton, stoutly--"I do talk a bit, but I ain't Missis Spruce, nor I ain't turned into a telephone tube yet. Mebbe I will when I'm a bit older. 'Ave ye heard, Pa.s.son, as 'ow Oliver Leach is dead?"

"Yes,--Dr. Forsyth told me last night."

"Now d'ye think a man like 'im is gone to Heaven!" demanded Bainton- -"Honest an' true, d'ye think the Lord Almighty wants 'im?"

John was rather non-plussed. His garrulous gardener watched his face with attentive interest.

"Don't ye answer unless ye like, Pa.s.son!" he observed, sagaciously-- "I don't want to make ye say things which ain't orthodox! You keep a still tongue, an' I shall understand!"

John took the hint. He 'kept a still tongue'--and turned back from the garden into the house. Bainton chuckled softly.

"Pa.s.son can't lie!" he said to himself--"He couldn't do it to save his life! That's just the best of 'im! Now if he'd begun tellin' me that he was sure that blackhearted rascal 'ad gone to keep company with the angels I'd a nigh despised im!--I would reely now!"

That same morning, when John walked up to the Manor again, he entered it as a privileged person, invested with new authority.

Cicely ran to meet him, and frankly put up her face to be kissed.

"A thousand and one congratulations!" she said--"I knew this would come!--I was sure of it! But the credit of the first guess is due to the Mooncalf,--Julian, you know!--he's a poet, and he made up a whole romance about you and Maryllia the first day he ever saw you with her!"

"Did he?"--and Walden smiled--"Well, he was right! I am very happy, Cicely!"

"So am I!" And the 'Goblin' clasped her hands affectionately across his arm--"You are just the very man I should have chosen for Maryllia!--the only man, in fact--I've never met anybody else worthy of her! But oh, if she were only strong and well! Do you know that Dr. Forsyth is bringing another specialist to see her this afternoon?"

"Yes, I know!"

"And there's other news for you this morning"--pursued Cicely, a broad smile lighting up her face and eyes--"Very amusing news! Lord Roxmouth is married!"

"Married!" exclaimed Walden, incredulously--"Not possible!"

"Come and see the wedding cards!"--and Cicely, laughing outright, caught his hand, and pulled him along into the morning room, where Maryllia, with her couch turned so that she could see the first glimpse of her lover as he entered the doorway, was eagerly awaiting his approach--"Maryllia, here's John! Prove to him at once please that Mrs. Fred's millions are lost to you forever!"

Maryllia laughed, and blushed sweetly too, as John bent over her and kissed her with a very expressive look of tenderness, not to say proprietors.h.i.+p.