Nestleton Magna Part 28

_Wordsworth._

It will be necessary to retrace our steps a little, and turn our attention to Lucy Blyth and the heir of the House of Waverdale. Lucy's hasty and unexpected departure from Waverdale Hall and Squire Fuller's compulsory absence on county business, had prevented that grateful recipient of her services and hearty admirer of her character from rendering her at once the thanks to which she was ent.i.tled, and from bestowing on her such reward as was in any sense commensurate with the exceeding value of the good work she had wrought. Eventually he wrote her a letter full of unstinted grat.i.tude, and stated therein that he should count it an honour and a privilege to oblige her in any way that was in his power. He avowed that she had saved his son's life from the fever, and his own from the burglar; that she had been the means of bringing to him thoughts and feelings concerning religion to which he had long been a stranger; and that, though he felt such services were priceless and beyond compensation, he entreated her to test his sincerity and regard in any way she chose. The answer he received was couched as follows:--

"DEAR SIR,--G.o.d has enabled me to do my duty under very trying circ.u.mstances. That duty would have been more willingly performed for the poorest family in Nestleton. Your thanks, and the sense of having done what was right, fully repay me. I am thankful to G.o.d that Master Philip is spared to you, and if my short stay at Waverdale Hall has enabled me in any way to alter your views and feelings about religion, I am thankful all the more. As you so earnestly press me to receive some acknowledgment at your hands, I will not refuse so generous an offer. If you will give a plot of ground on which to build a Methodist chapel so that the Methodists of Nestleton may be able to worship G.o.d in comfort under their own vine and fig-tree, you will not only confer the greatest favour upon me, but will win the lasting grat.i.tude of a poor and worthy people, who will richly repay you in their prayers for your happiness and prosperity.

"I remain,

"Yours most respectfully,

"LUCY BLYTH."

This missive was placed by the butler in the hands of the squire as he sat in his customary chair by the library fire; his son and heir, now quite recovered from the trying ordeal through which he had pa.s.sed, though still somewhat pale of countenance, sitting opposite. Mr.

Fuller could not help smiling with satisfaction at Lucy's unselfish response to his letter of inquiry, and at the admirable persistency with which she pleaded the cause of her people.

"Your correspondence amuses you, father," said Philip, as he noted the smile on the old man's face.

"Amuses me, you think, do you?" said the squire, a.s.suming a serious air. "I wonder whether it will amuse you. Here's a pretty effusion from your model young lady!"

"What, Lucy?" said Philip, with an honest blush and such a manifest interest, that it was not hard to see that our youthful lover was quite as much enchained to that young lady's chariot wheels as ever; "May I ask what it is?"

"Why, I wrote to convey to her our hearty thanks for the unquestionably important services she has rendered, and I foolishly promised to account myself her debtor for any reward she might name, and this is the advantage she takes of my unguarded offer!"

"No unfair advantage, I'll be bound," quoth Philip, stoutly; "she is altogether too good for that."

"Oh, you think so? Well, then, let me tell you; the covetous little minx has had the audacity to ask for a portion of my estate."

"Estate!" said Philip, in blank amaze. "I'll never believe it. Never; no, not if I saw it in her own handwriting."

"Well," said the squire, inwardly amused and strongly impressed with his son's unswerving loyalty to the village maiden, but looking at the same time sufficiently serious, "Then it's no use showing you the letter; but I tell you, here it is, in black and white, and signed with her own name." The squire here placed the precious little signature beneath his eyes. "Won't you believe it now?"

"No," said Philip, stoutly; "nothing in the world will make me believe anything other than that Lucy Blyth is as free from self-seeking and greed as the sunlight that flows out of heaven; and, what is more, I believe my father is of the same opinion."

"Well, then, take and read it for yourself, you sceptic, and you will see that the charge I bring against her is absolutely true; so you may prepare your mind for a definite diminishing of your own inheritance, thanks to my thoughtless promise, which, on the honour of a Fuller, may never be withdrawn."

Philip read the letter, and lifting a bright and hopeful glance at his father, said,--

"And you will grant this request?"

"Certainly, Master Philip; when did your father ever break his promise or shirk his word?"

Quick to perceive the underlying willingness of his father's somewhat ostentatious reverence for a promise, Philip rose from his seat, exclaiming, "Father, you are doing this for Lucy's sake!"

"Master Philip, don't under-estimate my fidelity to a pledge," said the father, with a happy smile; "and now that you are fairly given back to me, I feel bound to offer you the same privilege. 'What is thy request, and I will give it to thee, even to the half of my kingdom?'"

"Give me Lucy," said Philip, with his heart upon his lips.

"That's beyond my power, and rests with the excellent blacksmith and his glorious girl. But I'll give you permission to make the application, and from my heart, my boy, I hope your request will not be made in vain."

Overpowered with love, grat.i.tude, and joy, Philip stood silent, with his heart too full for speech; but nothing could be more eloquent than the look which sent an exquisite thrill of gladness through his father's heart.

"Philip, my son," said the squire, "My eyes are open at last, thank G.o.d! G.o.d's dealings with us have been wonderful, and I am bound to say that His providential guidance has all the while been answering Adam Olliver's prayers. Your own and Lucy's conduct, under circ.u.mstances of the most trying kind, had furnished proof which there is no gainsaying, of the great and holy power of real religion. The beautiful loyalty to duty, the ungrudging self-sacrifice, the elevated motives which actuate Lucy Blyth, led me to study Christianity from a new stand-point; and your own clear, triumphant testimony of the saving grace of G.o.d, compared so grandly with the cold and heartless scepticism I had largely imbibed, that my prejudices were compelled to give way, and at length beneath the shadow of the Cross I found 'rest to my soul.' As for Lucy Blyth, good and pure and beautiful in every relation of life, I will not, do not wish, to place a straw in the way of her becoming your wife, and I believe her to be singularly fitted for the high station she will be called upon to fill. Strange to say, I have now doubts which tend to sadden me, that she will not be induced to accept the alliance which once I opposed with all the bitterness of prejudice and pride. This one thing I know, that if you can but win her consent, I will welcome her to my house and heart, as a daughter, with as warm a love as I give my son."

We draw the curtain on the scene, and leave the two, now one in a higher, holier, happier sense than they had ever been before.

As may be imagined, Philip did not permit the gra.s.s to grow under his feet, but speedily made his way to the village Forge.

Nathan Blyth had regained his old cheerfulness. The light of his hearth had been re-lit by Lucy's return, and so, as of old, he was singing the songs of Zion, as his hammer rang on the anvil, making merry music because his heart was glad. The red forge fire sent its inviting glow in long ribbons of rosy light athwart the December gloom, crimsoning the light snow-flakes which besprinkled the frosty ground, tinging the hedgerow and the tall poplar boles with its radiant hue, and gilding the implements of husbandry which were gathered for repairs outside the door. When Philip approached the smithy door, Blithe Natty's voice was heard above the ringing anvil, and this was the harmonious blacksmith's song,--

THE RIVER OF THE WATER OF LIFE.

_Ezekiel_ xlvii, 9.

O glad proclamation!

The stream of salvation Is flowing from Calvary's Cross-crowned hill; Is flowing for ever, And faltereth never, And every sinner may drink to his fill.

From Satan's enslaving, These waters are saving-- From sin and corruption it washeth us free; Peace, pardon, and blessing, And joys without ceasing, It bears on its bosom for thee and for me.

Temptations which hara.s.s, And doubts which embarra.s.s, The soul as it travels this region below; These waters shall banish; All sorrow shall vanish-- Borne away on its bosom, as onward they flow.

All sorrow it chaseth, All pain it eraseth, The soul of the drinker it filleth with good; For trouble and sadness It bringeth us gladness, And comfort and soothing roll in like a flood.

When the body is dying, When the spirit is flying, And the night cometh in at the close of the day; Then on Jesus believing-- These waters receiving-- The soul of the Christian pa.s.seth away.

This river so precious, So healing and gracious, Is flowing for ever, unbounded and free; Then come and possess it, And drink it and bless it, For none are more needy, more welcome than we.

O earth's sons and daughters!

Come, drink of the waters-- With healing and blessing and joy they are rife; Then come to the river, And, thanking the Giver, Drink! Drink, weary sinner, the Water of Life!

"Good morning, Mr. Blyth," said Philip. "I am glad to hear you sing so merrily. It promises well for the errand on which I come."

"Good morning, Master Philip. I'm heartily glad to see you strong and well again. That would be quite enough to set me singing. There's many a heart in Nestleton that thanks G.o.d for that."

"I'm very much obliged to them," said Philip heartily. "There are few things in the world better worth winning and holding than the affection and esteem of honest neighbours. This morning, however, I own that there is something nearer my heart than that; and as n.o.body can help me in it as well as you can, I say again, I am glad you are in so pleasant a mood. Will you help me?"

"Anything in the world that I can do for you, Master Philip, I shall be glad to do--at least anything but one," and this with a meaning look that his hearer clearly understood.

"And that one, Mr. Blyth?"

"Nay, I need say no more, sir. 'That one' is an impossibility, and need not be mentioned."

Philip stepped forward, and, taking Nathan by the hand, said, seriously enough,--

"And why impossible? My dear friend--for friend you have always been--that _is_ the errand on which I come."

Nathan lifted an astonished eye to the eager and anxious youth, who at that moment, at any rate, wore his heart upon his sleeve.