stalls."Why, ain't this yer wedding-day?--but glory be to heaven, man, howblue you looks! Where's Jill? Is anything wrong with the bit of acolleen?"
"No," said Lynn, "there's nothing wrong with Jill; she's comin' down tome presently, and there'll be a weddin' sure enough, don't you make nomistake on that pint, Mrs Maloney; but I'm standing here a-looking outfor a young chap o' the name o' Carter. Do you happen to know, ma'am,ef he's come to the market yet?"
"Him as used to keep company with Jill?" exclaimed Mother Maloney; "yes,I seen him 'arf an hour ago a-buying young peas and other vegetables forhis barrer; he were round by the south door and--" But Lynn had lefther.
He strode rapidly in the direction the Irishwoman had pointed out. Hishands were stuck deep in his pockets; his great sullen shoulders wereraised almost to his ears; the old ferocious look was once moreobservable on his brow and round his mouth.
Nat Carter had nearly concluded his purchases when he felt a heavy handlaid on his shoulder; he looked swiftly round and came face to face withLynn.
Nat coloured high when he perceived the person who had touched him. Aswift wave of crimson dyed his cheeks and broad, white brow, then itreceded, leaving the young fellow pale as death. His blue eyes flashedangrily at Lynn, his lips were firmly shut, he clenched his fist, andwaited for the other to begin.
"You ha' heard," said Lynn, who noticed these quick changes in the youngcostermonger's face with a sort of grim satisfaction; "you ha' heard, incourse, that I'm a-gwine to wed that pretty little flower gel, JillRobinson, this arternoon."
"It's true, I ha' heard," replied Nat; "I don't want to speak on it,Silas Lynn. I'm werry busy just now a-packing my barrer, and as you andme can't have naught in common, I'll be wishing yer a good morning."
"But we can have a deal in common, lad," exclaimed Silas; "why, what achicken 'eart you has, turning faint when a gel's name is spoke!"
"Ef you say that again I'll knock yer down," said Nat.
"Oh, tut, tut, ain't I twice yer age nearly, and a good bit more thantwice yer strength? Look yere, Nat Carter, I want to talk this matterover with you. I ha' heard something 'bout you and Jill what must becleared up afore I take her afore the parson. I want to do wot's rightand jest by that yere gel. Your 'appiness ain't nothing to me, NatCarter; and my own 'appiness! well, the Lord knows as that ain't worthconsiderin' either. But Jill's 'appiness, that's everything. You andme 'as got to argufy that pint out werry clear, young man."
Nat did not reply for a moment or two, then he said in a slow voice:
"I had made a vow in my heart that I'd never speak the name o' thatyoung gel, Jill Robinson, again," he murmured. "I heard as she wereabout to be spliced up with you, Mr Lynn, and I said to myself I 'opesas I'll never meet that old man, Silas Lynn, or maybe I'll be doin' hima mischief. I don't want to meet yer, or to speak with yer, nor to hearanything more 'bout Jill. It's quite true as I dreamt a dream thatthere wor a gel o' that name, what could be all the world to me. I wokeone arternoon and there worn't no sech Jill nowhere on God's wide earth.I don't want to speak to you about the gel you're gwine to marry, MrLynn."
"Not ef I tell yer somethink that'll prove to yer as the Jill you dreamton is still living on this earth, sweeter and brighter nor the best andthe purtiest sweet spring flower; ef I proves that to yer, will yer comealong and talk with me, Nat Carter?" A queer, convulsive change cameover Nat's face when Silas said these words. He hesitated for a moment.
"I--I'll come," he said then. "I didn't think as I could be such a weakfool, but somehow I don't know myself lately."
He called to a tall, slight lad who stood near, gave him some directionswith regard to the vegetables and fruit he had just bought, and turnedwith Lynn to leave the market.
The two men turned down a side street and entered a small restaurant,which was nearly empty at this early hour. Lynn called to the girl whostood behind the counter to bring coffee for two, and then walked withCarter into the back room, which they had absolutely to themselves.
"There can't be no smooth words between you and me to-day, Nat Carter,"said Lynn, turning suddenly and facing the younger and slighter man."The facts of the case are these. This yere is my wedding-day. I'mabout to contract marriage with a young gel not seventeen year old, andI--you're pleased to call me an old man, Nat Carter, and I don't deny asI'll see forty years come two more summers. But a man of my age is inhis prime. You young 'uns think to laugh at us, but there ain't nolaughing in these muscles," here Lynn doubled his brawny arm, "nor inthis yere chest, nor in these legs, nor in this fist. I feel prettysartin' as this yere fist o' mine 'ud knock a slim, straight youngfeller like you into kingdom come, Nat Carter. There's nothing o' decay'bout me, although you think fine to call me old. My strength is in itsprime--and my passions, my love, and my hate, why _they're_ in theirprime too. I tell yer, Carter, that the love of a young feller like youain't nothing to the love o' a man like me--but that ain't the pint--wotam I talking on? Come and set down here, Carter, and let me speakquietly to yer."
"I don't know why you have dragged me in yere," said Carter; "I wor busywith my work; I don't want yer to flaunt yer 'appiness in my face."
"Will you have anything to eat with the coffee, gentlemen?" said thegirl who brought it in.
"Nothing--go," thundered Lynn; she disappeared quickly, and Silas turnedto Carter.
"Poor lad," he said in an almost pitying tone, "you talk o' me flauntingmy 'appiness in yer face--I must be awful full o' malice to do a thingo' that sort. You wait awhile, Carter, and see how the tables 'ull turnpresently. As I wor saying, this yere is my weddin'-day--I and thatlittle gel with the dark eyes and the sweet look, and the scent of thewild flowers 'bout her, wor to be spliced up afore the pa'son to-day.Oh, I wor 'appy--the Lord God Almighty knows as I wor a'most too 'appyto live. Yesterday it seemed to me as ef I trod on air--oh, whatwouldn't I ha' done for my little gel! But, yesterday, Carter,'appiness and me said good-bye to one another. Now you listen, youngman, your turn is a-comin'. I went yesterday to Saint Bartholomew'sHospital to take a parcel to a sick neighbour. As I wor leaving theward a woman screeched out to me; I turned, and who should I see butJill's mother, Poll. Ah, you may well start, young man, but you waitawhile, there's more to come. I went up to that woman, and she spoke tome and arsked had I seen Jill. I said, `Yes.' She arsked, `Is Jill'appy?' I said `yes' again to that. Then I added, looking 'ard at her,`It 'ud be queer ef Jill worn't 'appy seeing as she's to be wedto-morrow.'
"`Oh, thank the good Lord,' said Poll; `I'm real glad to hear that. Iwas frightened as she and Nat Carter wouldn't wed one another.' You maysuppose, young man, as I turned a bit sick and queer when I hear'd wordso' that sort. I jest knew you as a likely chap what bought wegetablesin the market. I had never hear'd you and Jill spoke on as keepingcompany. I had to steady myself a bit; but I spoke quite quiet, and gotPoll to tell me all that wor in her 'eart. Seems to me, young man, thatyou're a person with mighty little o' the quality what pious folks call_faith_; seems to me as you're but chicken-hearted in your love.However, to my tale. Poll said as you and Jill had allers loved eachother ever since you was kids, and that when she saw Jill last, you andshe had made up yer' minds to get spliced to one another as soon aspa'son could be found to tie yer up. Well, poor Poll she had an uglysecret, and she was mortal feared o' your finding it out. Jill knowedo' it, but Poll didn't want you ever to know. She said you wor good,but a bit 'ard, and you wouldn't have naught in the world to do with anygel what worn't honest and sober and true. Jill wor honest and soberand true; but Poll herself, poor soul, suffered awful pain fro' a badsort of tumour in her breast, and she tuk gin on the quiet to ease it.She made no bones o' it to me that she often got drunk to ease the pain,and Jill know'd it, although she wouldn't let on. Well, when you andJill said as you'd become man and wife, Poll thought as she'd run away,so as you'd never hear of her and never find out as Jill wor thedaughter of a woman as drank. She was in an awful takin' as you'd heardof the news, for
yer sister met her and said some cruel words, and itwor a real load off her mind when I told her as Jill wor to be marriedto-day; she made sure, in course, as the bridegroom wor to be