Barbara Lynn Part 28

"And how are all my friends, Mally?" he asked. "Mistress Lynn is still living, I hear. She must be a tough old stick."

"She's near a hundred."

"Good heavens! Think of living for a hundred years! Fewer will satisfy me!"

"Fewer satisfy most folk."

"Life isn't such a joyous game, is it, Mally, that you'd like to play it for ever?"

"I've no call to complain," she replied.

Joel took his pipe from his pocket and lit it.

"Neither have I," he said. "Fate kicked me badly once, but she's made up for it since. I'm a rich man, Mally."

"I'm glad to hear it. I hope you'll use your wealth wisely."

"I shall not tie it up in a napkin like great-granny Lynn. By-the-bye, I must go and see her this morning. Barbara, I suppose, still manages the farm?"

"She's a fine la.s.s!" said the old woman warmly.

"Handsome--eh?"

"I'm no judge."

"And Lucy--is she as pretty as ever? But now I come to think of it you didn't consider her pretty. Well, I hope she's living in the seventh heaven of happiness with her big b.o.o.by of a husband. I never thought that Peter Fleming would marry her--Barbara was more in his line."

Mally made no reply.

"You're no hand at gossiping," he said. "I'll have to go to Greystones to hear the news. But tell me this--there's a good heart--does Lucy ever ask after me?"

"Whiles."

"Whiles! as a Christian sister asks after a Christian brother, anxious for the state of his soul! What sort of a man is Peter?"

"He's a good man."

"Oh, I heard he had brought his father's grey hairs with sorrow to the grave! You see I've not been kept in darkness all these years, though you told me very little, Mally. I fear Peter won't have much good-will for me, since we baited his pet bear that night. Did it live or die?"

"He keeps it at the mill-house. It was poor sport to set the dogs on a gently creature like yon."

"A low trick, Mally, I've thought so ever since. I'm glad it lived. But it never cared much for me."

"It never had much cause to. You'd better keep out of its way, Master Joel."

"I'll not meddle with it, don't fear."

He got up, wandered through the house, whistled carelessly, then went out.

He stood on the road looking first north, then south. North led up to Greystones, south through the forest to the village and the old mill. He could not decide which way to take. He looked at his watch. The hour was just nine, too early for a visit to Mistress Lynn, so he went in the other direction. He had no intention of seeking Lucy, but he wanted to look at the place where she lived. He left the road, and followed a by-path which would lead him to the banks of the beck opposite to the mill, and thus he would escape having to pa.s.s through the village. He had seen the house in the early morning when it looked little more than a blot through the twilight.

Smoke was now rising from the chimneys, waving over the roof like an azure veil. The parlour window stood open, and the dimity curtains fluttered out and in with the draught.

So this was Lucy's home--grey weather-beaten walls, an old wooden wheel, a cottage garden, and the rippling beck. There were flowers in pots upon the sill, and the curtains were gaily coloured. He thought that he would have given her a statelier house, silken window-hangings, rarer flowers.

But she had not waited.

For some minutes he stood, hidden by the trees, while his eyes roved over the irregular outlines, and fixed themselves upon the window. He wished that Lucy would look out. He wanted to see her again, to learn if he would still care for her, if her fair face would still have power to charm him.

As he watched and waited, he thought of the other women who had crossed his path in the last five years. When he had heard of Lucy's marriage, he had been overwhelmed, cast down from his high hopes into a gulf of darkness. Self-reproach and resentment had fought with each other, and had at last proclaimed a truce, for though he owned that he had done amiss, and had no right to expect that she would wait for him, seeing that he had not asked her to; yet he bitterly resented the fact that she had so soon filled his place with another. But he was young, and having recovered somewhat from the blow, he had plunged into all the excitements that his wild life provided, and they were many, enough to drown regret--if regret can be drowned. He had amused himself with other women, but he had not loved them--they had soon wearied him, they had been stale, too ready to be won. After every fresh experience he had turned longing eyes back to the idyll of the dell in Cringel Forest. It became to him like the memory of a happy dream, a vision of Paradise, a revelation of the true meaning of love. And so he had been drawn back to the dale by the beauty and pathos of a vanished ideal. He cast longing eyes upon that part of his life; he regarded it as the best part. For the future he hoped and expected nothing, yet found a fascination in wondering what it would bring.

But at last a movement roused him. Lucy had come into the garden, and stood looking at the sky as though wondering what the weather would be.

Then she opened the gate and pa.s.sed into the village street, turning in the direction of the road through the forest.

Joel's first impulse was to stay where he was, but he quickly changed his mind. Why should he hesitate to meet her? If he remained for any time at home they were bound to cross each other's path continually.

Besides, he felt a great longing to look upon her face again. He retraced his steps, and came on to the road, just as she was pa.s.sing over the bridge in his direction.

She did not see him at first, and he thought that she looked older and thinner. But when he moved out from among the undergrowth, a swift change pa.s.sed over her features. The cheeks took on a deeper colour, the eyes, half frightened, half joyous, were raised to his. They were blue as blue skies.

Lucy had been wondering if she would meet him this morning. She had heard his horse's feet pa.s.s at day-break, and had peeped under the curtains, but been unable to see anything save a moving shadow. She had dressed herself with greater care, pausing often to still the fluttering of her heart. After the first thrill of excitement, she became self-possessed, for she had often schooled herself to such a meeting.

She came towards him with outstretched hand.

"How are you, Joel?" she asked.

"I'm well," he replied; "and you? But I needn't enquire--you look blooming."

Thus they crossed that difficult bridge of five years.

They walked on together, and he told her about his journey, and the life he had been living since they last met.

But soon there befell a pause.

Lucy found it disconcerting.

"I'm going up to Greystones to spend the day with great-granny," she said. "Barbara and Peter have both gone to the Shepherds' Meet in Girdlestone Pa.s.s. You remember it, don't you?"

"Peter and I have wrestled there many a time," he replied. "I think I'll go and look him up for the sake of old times."

They walked on in silence. Lucy wished that Joel would talk more. She half wished he would treat the love they had once had for each other as a forgotten dream. But, stealing a glance at him, she became aware of his rising emotion; she seemed to hear it like the filling of a well with water. It frightened her.

She hurried her steps. She wanted to be out of the forest, and away from scenes that wakened sleeping memories. She knew that his eyes were upon her now, and she wondered, with that attention to trifles which the mind sometimes affects in times of great stress, whether or not he liked the new way that she dressed her hair.

"You came very early this morning," she said. "You must be tired."

"How do you know I came early? Were you watching for me?"

"Of course. It's natural I should want to see you again--such old friends as we are."