by L. T. Meade
and her eyes like great,deep wells, with the wonder that filled 'em, and she said, `No, no, MrLynn, it can't be'; and she up with her basket and away she runned.Well, of course I said to myself, there's an end o' this; but, what doyer think, neighbour? The next morning early, soon arter daybreak, whoshould come down all the way from Lunnon to see me but this same littlegel; she knocked at my door and called out to me to open to her; andwhen I come it wor, `Yes, yes, Mr Lynn, I will marry yer ef you'll haveme.' Worn't that pretty good proof of her loving me, eh, Peters?"
"I don't deny as it wor," said Peters.
Silas and Peters entered the small cottage of the latter, and, as Silashad to go to town in a couple of hours, they immediately parted for thenight, Silas declining to go to bed, but declaring he could take a goodsleep in Peters's deep arm-chair.
Just before they said good-night the old man made a request.
"Ef yer has time, Silas," he said, "I'd be much obleeged to yer if yercould call round to Saint Bartholomy's Hospital and leave this littleparcel for my sister, Rachel Riggs. It's a wool shawl of hers, as sheallers sets store on, and I had a card from her to say as she worbetter, and wanted her shawl. You'd obleege me greatly, Silas, ef youcould leave it."
"Put it on the table there," said Silas, "and I won't forget."
The old man went off to his own room, and Silas sat in the deeparm-chair and looked out at the summer night. There was nothing reallyto trouble him in the words that Peters had said, nevertheless they keptcoming back in a teasing and irritating fashion.
It was Peters's opinion that Jill did not love him. What folly! Ifever a girl had gone out of her way to show that she loved a man, it wasJill. As to her face being somewhat pale, and as to the fact that herdark eyes were sad in their expression, was not that always the case?Had not Silas, who knew her so much better than Peters, always noticedthat latent sadness in her charming face. He loved her all the betterfor it.
"It's jest her kind heart," he murmured; "it's jest as there is troublein the world, and she can't help noticin' of it. Why, see her to-night,when Mary Ann Hatton dropped the chaney saucer. Even that were too muchfor my Jill. Oh, yes, Peters is quite mistook. Jill loves me, forsure, and I'm jest the werry happiest feller in the wide world."
Silas, however, notwithstanding these soothing reflections, felt tooexcited to sleep. He was glad when the first faint brightness in theeast told him that the time had come for him to rise and begin his longday's work.
He softly left the cottage, and, going across the fields to his ownsmall homestead, put the horses to the already carefully-packed waggon.Then going round to the cottage-door, he tapped with his knuckles at thewindow of the little bedroom where Aunt Hannah and Jill were sleeping.Jill was to accompany Silas back to town. She was dressed, and came outto him at once. Her face looked almost bright this morning; she had afaint colour in her cheeks, which was further deepened by the brightshawl which she wore round her head. When she came up to Silas andslipped her little brown hand into his, he instantly felt through hiswhole being that a glorious sun had arisen over the earth, and that oldTimothy Peters must be fast approaching idiotcy.
"Come, Jill," he exclaimed, "we'll have a jolly ride into town. Why,yer ain't cold, be yer my dear?"
"No, Silas."
"Only I thought I see'd yer shiver. It'll be werry hot by-and-by, butef yer finds this hour of the morning chill, I'll fetch out mysheep's-skin rug to wrap yer up in."
"No, no, Silas, I ain't really cold. Let's start at once, and maybewhen we gets to the brow of the hill we'll see the sun rise. I has beenup early enough most days o' my life, but I never seed the sun rise forall that."
"It's a sight to remember," said Lynn. "Come along then, my choicelittle cuttin', and we'll get under weigh."
As a rule, Silas was a very taciturn man; but on this particular morningit was he who did most of the talking.
"Eh, Jill," he said once, as they approached London, "to think as youand me 'ull be husband and wife to-morrow. The delight o' it is a'mostpast belief. When I thinks on you as keeping the cottage, bright, andcooking my meals for me, and watching as nobody comes and picks off thebest blooms when I'm away at the market, I can scarce contain myself, Idon't believe in all the wide world there'll be a happier pair nor youand me, Jill, for all that I am eight-and-thirty and you not seventeenyet."
"I hope as I'll make yer a good wife, Silas," replied Jill.
"Oh, there ain't no doubt on that, my little cuttin'. There's that inyou, Jill, that can't help being good to folk. Lor', I could shout withlarfin' when I think how you twisted all them crabbed folk round yerlittle finger last night. Jest a glint o' your eyes and a soft word ortwo and 'twor done. Even Mary Ann Hatton couldn't stan' out agen yer.But, Jill, I'm a-thinking that yer mother and yer two brothers ought tobe asked proper to our wedding. Yer mother is as fine a figure of awoman as I know; and, though I don't know what yer brothers are like,and I make no doubt they're mischeevous little varmints as is to befound in the world, yet still wot's yours is mine, Jill, and I'll makethem all free and welcome to come to the wedding to-morrow. Wot's thematter, my dear? Why don't yer speak?"
"There ain't nothing the matter, Silas. Seems to me lately as ef I hadvery few words of any sort to say. I'm obleeged to yer, Silas, for yourkind thought about my folk, and I'd be right glad to have them with mewhen I'm wed; but I han't seen the boys for nearly three weeks. I'mthinking maybe they has run off to sea. Tom were always minded thatway."
"Well," said Silas, "they might do worse. The sea is not so bad a lifeef a lad is strong, and ef he don't take up with bad ways. But 'boutyer mother, Jill? It's werry odd as I han't laid eyes on her sence youand me made up our minds to get spliced."
"Mother ain't werry well," said Jill, "and--" but here her voice failedher; she covered her face with her trembling hand, and burst into anagony of tears.
Silas, in his absolute amazement, pulled up the horses, and, lookinground at the weeping girl, surveyed her from head to foot with a suddenshy terror, which gave a ludicrous expression to his plain face.
"Wot is it, Jill? Wot is it?" at last he gasped.
"Nothing, Silas, nothing," she replied, checking her tears with aviolent effort. "It were real wrong of me to give way, and you so good.But I'm troubled 'bout mother, orful, bitter troubled. She ain't well,and I'm troubled 'bout her. Seems as ef I couldn't speak on her lately.She won't come to the weddin', Silas, and you mustn't ask me noquestions 'bout the why and the wherefore. Maybe, arter we're wed I'lltell yer, but not now, dear Silas."
"Well, it's you I'm goin' to wed," said Silas, "and ef you're there, nomatter about t'other folks, say I. Only I'm sorry you're in trouble'bout anything, my own little gel, and I only wish I could, comfortyou."
"You do, Silas, you do."
"Well, them's good words to hear. We're at the market now, Jill; but asyou ain't going to sell flowers to-day, maybe you'd like to be gwinehome. Next time we meets it'll be till death us do part."
When Silas said these words Jill felt a sick agony creeping over her.They were the words she had longed to hear said over her and Nat. Sheturned her white face away, and, quickly leaving the market, ran home toHoward's Buildings as fast as her feet could carry her. Silas, inexcellent spirits, began to attend to his plants, flowers, and fruit.Any slight remaining uneasiness which might have lingered in his mindafter old Peters's words was now removed. Of course Jill loved him, buther pallor and the sad expression in her eyes were both accounted for bysome secret sorrow in connection with her mother. Silas determined toget at this grief, and if possible to remove it after he and Jill weremarried. He was too busy to-day, however, to give it any furtherthought; he had not only to attend to his many customers, but he had tomake arrangements for the two or three days' holiday he meant to givehimself after his wedding. He had to attend to a list of orders whichAunt Hannah had provided him with for the wedding-feast; and last, butnot least, he must manage to call at Saint Bartholomew's Hospital
withthe little shawl for old Peters's sister, Rachel Riggs. Silas knew MrsRiggs, and with all those new qualities which the sunshine of prosperityhad awakened into being, it occurred to him that it would give herpleasure if a bunch of flowers accompanied the shawl. Silas would neverhave thought of giving Mrs Riggs flowers in the old days, but he didmany things now
