on, one I--I _loved_, Silas--give me five pounds to keep faithful, werry faithful,for a mate of his. I put the money into an old stocking with somesavings of my own. I was quite light in my heart then, and werry happy.I hadn't known no trouble then. One morning I got up with the gladheart of a bird inside o' me. I went into the kitchen jest where youand me is now, and I prepared to go to the market. As I were leavingthe house, I 'membered I had no money in my pocket. I went to thebureau. There I found that the old stocking had been opened by someone, and all the money--all my savings, and the five pounds wot myfriend had give me to take care for for his pal were gone. There was aletter on the top of the bureau telling me who had took the money. Themoney--all the money--was took away by some one else wot I loved werrydear. You may s'pose, Silas, as I felt near mad. I wouldn't and Icouldn't betray the friend wot took the money to the friend wot trustedme with it. That night the one who gave me the money to keep came andasked for it back. I put a test to him, and I saw he could never bearthe shock o' knowing the truth, so--"
Jill paused, there was a break in her voice, she threw her apron overher head.
"So?" continued Silas.
"I let him go," she added.
"And you come to me, little Jill?"
"I did, Silas; I come to you."
"And I give yer the money, and asked no questions?"
"You did, you did."
"And to-morrow we'll be made man and wife afore God?"
"Yes, Silas, that's so."
"You b'lieve as I loves yer, Jill? You b'lieves in the strength of mylove?"
"I do, Silas."
"Well, that's all. You has told me wot were in your heart, and you'llnever be sorry. Now I must be gwine home. I'll send the waggon up foryou to-morrow, and Aunt Hannah in it. And you'll come down to me,faithful and true?"
"In course I will, Silas."
"Well, kiss me now. Give me a kiss of your own free will. Jest sayover to yourself--`By this time to-morrow Silas Lynn will be my husband,and I his wife. And Silas loves me.' Say them winds over, werrysolemn-like, to yourself, Jill, and then kiss me. There ain't nothin'in all the world I wouldn't do for you, my little gel."
Jill raised her face. She lifted her velvety, rose-bud lips to theman's rough cheek. He ought her to him with frantic eagerness andpressed one kiss in return on her forehead, and left her, stumblingawkwardly out of the room, as though he were blind.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
When Silas returned to the cottage late that evening, he found Jonathanwaiting for him with an expectant expression on his face.
"I ha' redd up the whole place, master," he said, "and brushed the pathfrom the wicket up to the porch and I ha' watered the flowers, and Ithink there ain't nothink more to be done. Everythink is quite ready.I thought as you'd like me to put the place in order, seeing as you waslate in comin' home, master."
"It's all right, Jonathan," said Silas in a gentle voice.
"Maybe as you'd like to look round, and see how I ha' done it foryourself, master?"
"No, no, Jonathan, it's safe to be all right; you can go home now,you're a good lad, and yere's half-a-crown for yer." Jonathan pulledhis forelock in acknowledgment of this bounty and turned to leave thelittle flower farm. As he was walking down the path Lynn called afterhim. "I s'pose," he said, "that Henry Best wor round to see arter thepacking of the waggon."
"Yes, master, it's all ready, and Best'll start the horses to market atone o'clock in the morning."
"You call at his cottage," said Lynn, "and tell him as I'll be taking aseat into town with him."
"You, master." Jonathan opened his wide mouth in amazement. "Why, I_thought_--"
"Never mind what yer thought," thundered Lynn after him, "do as yer're_told_, and make yerself scarce." Jonathan quickened his steps, andLynn very slowly entered the little cottage. A great many changes hadtaken place in the dingy room which acted both as kitchen and parlour.There was plenty of daylight still, and Lynn looked round at all hispreparations. The two small lattice windows had been subjected to suchan ordeal of soap and water, that each tiny pane shone in the eveninglight like a jewel. There was a clean new dimity curtain hung up beforeeach window. The walls of the room had received a fresh coat of colourwash, the floor was nearly covered by the large gaily-striped rug whichhad called forth Aunt Hannah's indignation, the new mahogany table gavea solid and handsome appearance to the centre of the room, the new canechair, with a striped grey and red tidy thrown over its back, had aninviting appearance. The little china cupboard, too, had been put up onthe wall, and the gold and white china with the blue convolvulus patternhad been so arranged within it as to show to the best possibleadvantage. The old arm-chair in which Lynn's mother had lived and diedstill kept its solemn position by the hearth. It was a high-backedchair with a shallow seat; it had a hard Puritanical look about it, andseemed to Lynn's excited imagination now to frown at the gay new thingswhich were brought for the bonny girl-bride who was to take possessionof the little home to-morrow.
"Ah! it's a blow," murmured Lynn, seating himself on the edge of a plaindeal chair, and looking round the room. "I ha' got to make the best ofit, but it's an awful blow. Jill'll marry me of course ef I'll haveher, but the question is this, shall I have her? I has got to settlethat pint atween myself and the Lord God Almighty to-night." Some breadand cheese was ready in the cupboard for Lynn's supper, the cupboarddoor stood partly open, and he could see the brown loaf and the cheesefrom where he sat. He had eaten nothing since the morning, but thesight of food in his present state turned the strong man sick; he rose,and going to little cupboard shut the door and turned the key in thelock. "I thought as the Lord had given over a-chastening o' me," hesaid, "I wor mistook. Oh, this yere's an awful blow. I can take thatyoung gel to wife to-morrow, but her 'eart won't be mine, her 'eart'llbe another's. Oh, this yere is a blow. Lord God, it seems kind o'cruel that I should jest have had such a short bit of happiness, andthen for it all to go. Now shall I read my Bible to-night or shall Inot?"
Lynn paced up and down the tiny cottage while he thought. The sun setin the heavens, and the summer twilight, which could scarcely be calleddarkness, set in. He did not light his lamp nor draw his curtains; thedarkness, which was not quite darkness after all, soothed him; he foundit easier to face the great problem which had come to him in the dimuncertain light. Jill was quite ready to marry him--should he marry herand say nothing about what he knew? He loved her so intensely that hefelt almost positive of his power to make her happy, he would give uphis whole life to her, she should mould him and direct him, she shouldguide him with her gentle little hands. It would be impossible for herto be unhappy living among the sweet flowers in his garden, andsurrounded by his great, mighty love.
"Yes, I love her fit to die for her," he muttered. As he said thesewords, a thought swept over him, like a flash; he remembered a certainverse in the old Bible, "_Greater love hath no man than this, that a manlay down his life for his friends_."
"My God," he exclaimed aloud, "it's easy to _say_ as I'd die fur Jill,but it's hard, hard to do it. I can take her to-morrow for better forworse, and _live for her_, but that ain't the pint. Seems to me as theLord wants to prove my love for that little Jill by a sort of beingcrucified for her. I'm to give up myself and give her to another. Isthat what I has got to do, Lord? To kill my pleasure and my 'appiness,is that the way I'm to show my love for little Jill?"
"_Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life forhis friends_." The words seemed to echo through the silent room, as ifthey fell from the skies. Silas staggered to the window, pulled thelattice pane open, flung himself on his knees, and looked up at thesummer sky. "It's bitter, bitter hard, Lord," he muttered.
He was not comforted by any thought of the nobleness of the sacrifice.He grovelled on the ground, and clenched his hands and tore his hair."I can't do it, I can't do it, I won't do it," he muttered, but thesewords of defiance came at longer and longer intervals. Th
e quiet,persistent voice kept on sounding in his ears, "_Greater love--greaterlove hath no man_." He could not bear the sound at last, he pressed hishands to his ears and ran out of the cottage.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
"Well, I am surprised to see you at the market this morning, SilasLynn," said Molly Maloney, who had come to stock her basket with freshflowers, and who came across Lynn standing moodily by one of the