Nestleton Magna Part 31

"Sister Agatha's gran'mother," said Adam, contemptuously. "It's my opinion 'at it isn't a sister at all, but a brother, an' a precious rascal at that, wiv 'is white smock, an' 'is b.l.o.o.d.y breest, an' 'is blue bleeazes. If he dizn't mind, he'll get mair o' them last sooat o'

things then he'll care for; bud we'll dig 'im oot."

The next day Adam related his midnight encounter to Farmer Houston and Nathan Blyth, and they resolved to go and explore the haunted spot. They were ultimately rewarded by the discovery of an underground cave, probably the handiwork of the monkish denizens of Cowley Priory, with whose monastery it was said Nestleton Abbey had been connected by a subterranean pa.s.sage in those "auld-warld" times, when Rome ruled the roast in England, and when its anchorites led not only an ign.o.ble and wasted life, but were guilty of evil doings and malpractices that were infinitely worse. The s.p.a.cious hollow which the explorers discovered, penetrated far into the earth. Candles were provided to prosecute the search, and there they found much thievish booty, including the tin box which had been abstracted from Waverdale Hall.

The astonished discoverers kept their secret, and quickly arranged to set a secret watch on the bramble-covered entrance to the burglar's den. Two or three nights afterwards they were successful in capturing a man just as he was in the act of descending to his secret lair. He was seized by strong hands and carried to Farmer Houston's kitchen. As may be imagined, the entrance of the redoubtable ghost caused no little stir among that peaceful household, each of whom in turn came to "have a look" at him. Among the rest came Hannah Olliver, who was plying her needle for the good of the household wardrobe, and as soon as she set her eyes upon the prisoner she screamed out, "Aubrey Bevan!" and fell fainting on the floor. The quondam valet was safely lodged in York Castle. Eventually that crafty, clever, but craven-hearted rascal turned king's evidence; the entire gang, which had long been a terror to the country side, was captured, and speedily "left their country for their country's good." It is gratifying to be able to say that both poetical and practical justice was at length able to lay its hands on Master Bevan himself, and he, too, was sent to join his former comrades in the distant and uncomfortable settlements of Botany Bay. Hannah Olliver, who had been instrumental in his identification, was permitted to be the bearer of the tin box to its rightful owner, and on giving up the precious article to Squire Fuller, she received a kind and full forgiveness for the unwary folly of which she had been guilty in introducing the burglars into Waverdale Hall.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

PHILIP FULLER BOLDLY MEETS HIS FATE.

"He says he loves my daughter; I think so too; for never gazed the moon Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, As 'twere, my daughter's eyes; and, to be plain, I think there is not half a kiss to choose Who loves the other best."

_Shakespeare_.

The short winter's day was over, and night had closed around Waverdale Hall, when Squire Fuller joined his son by the cosy fire in the library, after his affecting and successful interview with Nathan Blyth and Adam Olliver.

"Well, Master Philip," said the squire; "what will you give me for my news to-night?"

"My best attention and my warmest thanks," said that young gentleman, who divined that the intelligence hinted at was of a pleasant nature by reason of the glow on his father's countenance, and the tell-tale tone in which he spoke.

"Hadn't you better reserve your thanks until you know whether or not my information will be welcome?" said the squire, evidently enjoying the parley, and willing to prolong it.

"I'll risk it, father mine, for from that happy face of yours I augur something pleasant, and you couldn't, if you tried, introduce bad news by asking for a reward for bringing it."

"Well, then," said the squire, with mock seriousness, "prepare yourself for a dread calamity. Nathan Blyth has withdrawn his opposition, and if you can gain Lucy's consent, you and I may obtain our heart's desire."

True prophet as he was, Philip was hardly prepared for news so good and so direct as this. He was touched to the quick with the way in which his father spoke of their interests in this all-engrossing subject, as being one and indivisible. His face lighted up with hope as he said,--

"Thank G.o.d for that. I'll soon ask for her verdict. But how have you managed to overcome an opposition so determined as Nathan Blyth's?"

"Why, to tell the truth, it is not so much my doing as it is Adam Olliver's. That fine old Christian wields a marvellous influence both with G.o.d and man."

The squire then told of his visit to the old hedger: how he found him and Nathan Blyth upon their knees, how he opened his heart to both of them, how Adam Olliver had said the very wisest words in the most impressive way, and finally how Nathan Blyth was unable any longer to withstand the strong appeal, and had promised not to put a straw in the way, but to leave Lucy to decide the matter for herself.

"Dear old Adam," said Philip, earnestly, "my debt to him is such as I never can repay. Lucy's decision I shall get to-morrow, and I will not for a moment doubt that she will be true to the pleadings of her own heart, and those, I know, are in my favour."

"Go, my boy, and G.o.d prosper your errand, and I believe He will. And now, if you can stoop to anything more prosy and less interesting, what about this new chapel? I am inclined to build it myself, and present it to the Methodist society as a token of my admiration of their work, and a thank-offering to G.o.d. What do you think of it?"

Philip sat thinking for a little while, and then said, "No, I wouldn't do that. They have already obtained a considerable sum, and many will be eager to give and to work now that the land is secured, and it would be a pity to deprive them of what will be a pleasure and delight. Besides, it will do the people good to receive their offerings, and so to let them feel that it is the outcome of their own zeal. You can give a contribution such as the case may need, and what will be much better, you can offer something handsome towards the maintenance of a third minister to reside in Nestleton, and so to secure the more effective working of this side the Kesterton Circuit."

With this advice the squire heartily coincided, and ere long the two retired to rest, the one to plan and contrive for a preacher's house at Nestleton, the other to dream of Lucy and the morrow, which should, as he dared hope, seal her his own for ever.

Though the little sitting-room of Nathan Blyth was neither so large nor so imposing as the s.p.a.cious library of Squire Fuller, the fireside was just as cosy, and the two who sat beside it were just as loving and true-hearted as the pair we have just left. Lucy was seated by her father's side; with one hand he was stroking her dark hair, the other was cast lovingly round her waist.

"Lucy, darling, can you guess who has been to see me and Adam Olliver to-night?"

If Lucy had uttered the name that was uppermost in her heart, and the first on her tongue, she would undoubtedly have said "Philip," and nothing else; for still, as when she mentioned his name as her rescuer from the unwelcome attentions of Black Morris, there was no other Philip in the world to her, but unwilling to hint at what she regarded as a forbidden and unwelcome subject, she heaved a sigh, and said,--

"I can't tell, daddy; perhaps the squire has been about the plot of land."

"No, my dear, but you need not sigh about it; sighing doesn't suit those sweet lips of yours. Squire Fuller it was, but he came about another 'plot,' by which he means to steal my daughter from her father's heart and home."

Lucy's fair head drooped upon his bosom, as she blushed a rosy red, and softly said,--

"Never from his heart, my father, whatever else might happen, and, without his permission, never from his home."

"Aye," said Nathan, with a tearful smile, "but _with_ his permission, light of my life, what then?"

Closely nestled the head upon the manly bosom in which the heart of as true and good a father as ever bore the name was loudly beating, and then she looked, with all her soul in her eyes, and said,--

"What is it, father? Do not try me more than I can bear."

"My glorious girl," said Natty; "it is that, at last, Philip Fuller's welcome here on whatsoever errand he may come. I've had no thought, felt no emotion, entertained no wish, but for my darling's happiness.

I believe that happiness is in Philip Fuller's keeping, and I believe with all my heart that now and ever he will loyally and lovingly fulfil the precious trust. Kiss me, sweet, and be sure that your decision will willingly be mine."

For all answer, Lucy kissed him again and again, then flung her arms around his neck and burst into tears--tears which had no sorrow in them, only a wealth of happiness and love.

Whoever overslept themselves next morning, be sure that Philip Fuller was up betimes. Old Father Time, whose fingers force the hands around the dial at such relentless speed, appeared to our eager lover to be smitten with paralysis, or to have forgotten the awful cunning of his usual despatch. But no sooner did the laggard timepiece point to a reasonable hour for paying a morning call, than Philip turned his steps toward Nestleton Forge. It was a glorious winter's morning; the clear, bracing air was quite in harmony with Philip's buoyant spirit, as he rapidly sped along the frost-bound road. Long before he could see the home where dwelt the "damsel sweet and fair," whose "soft consent he meant to woo and win," he heard the musical ring of Nathan's anvil; but this time he did not pause even to look through the open door, much less to listen to Nathan's song. Had he done so, however, he would have heard strains of good omen, for Blithe Natty was in good feather and chanted a hopeful strain, which might well have inspired the listener with even a more gladly expectant spirit than that which he undoubtedly possessed. Stop a moment, Master Philip, and hear the oracle:--

Came Love one day across my way, And with inviting finger, Enticing smile, and subtle wile, Said, "Follow me, nor linger.

"I offer joy without alloy, A ceaseless round of pleasure-- A vision bright of sweet delight, And bliss that knows no measure.

"Within my bowers the fleeting hours Are always bright and sunny; From rosy lip come thou and sip The nectar and the honey."

"O Love!" I cried, and swiftly hied To follow, as she bade me; Across my path, in st.u.r.dy wrath, Stood Duty, and he stayed me.

Quoth Duty, "Stay! That's not the way; Rash youth, beware her wooing!

Her magic spell, O mark it well, May be thy soul's undoing.

"Her beauteous things have hidden stings, And though she proffers nectar, The poisoned cup will conjure up A dread, life-haunting spectre.

"Whom she leads on, they find anon Her beauty swiftly dying; Like bird on wing, the gleaming thing From singing takes to flying.

"Turn, gentle youth, and mark this truth-- True love is linked with duty; Come then with me and thou shalt see A richer, rarer beauty."

"Lead on," I cried, and by the side Of Duty forth I sped me; Resolved to go, for weal or woe, Wherever Duty led me.

I followed still, for good or ill, Through th.o.r.n.y brake and briar; Or up the steep, or down the deep, Through water or through fire.

And now at last, the testing's past, And Duty sits beside me; Quoth Duty, "Once, and for the nonce, Thy Love was quite denied thee.