Chapter 14

WOOED AND WON

'Beloved! let us love so well, our work shall still be better for our love, And still our love be sweeter for our work; And both commended for the sake of each, By all true workers, and true lovers born.'--_E. B. Browning._

It seemed as if Roddy's wish might be realized, for two days after he sickened with the same complaint. Mrs. Forsyth would not hear of my going near him, and I had to be content with news from time to time through the different villagers. I was not anxious about myself, but I did not feel well, and when my throat began to pain me I felt pretty sure that I was going to have it, too.

I was meditating whether I should tell Mrs. Forsyth one afternoon, as I sat by the morning-room fire, when Nelly and Kenneth came in from a walk glowing with health and spirits.

'Now,' said Kenneth, throwing himself full length on the sofa, 'we are very tired, and want a rest. Get your fiddle and play to us in the gloaming, Goody!'

I did not feel much in the mood for it, but I thought it would take off my thoughts from myself, so I began to play. And in the firelight, with the flickering shadows over the room, I lost all sense of my audience. I seemed to see the golden gates of the Beautiful City, and Jim beckoning to both Roddy and myself. 'The Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.' These words came to me with a fresh realization of their beauty.

When I stopped playing, Nelly was regarding me with round open eyes, and Kenneth took me quite aback by saying, with cool deliberation, 'There are moments, Goody Two-Shoes, when you and your fiddle are before my eyes, that I think I should like to marry you and take you away with me somewhere where you should charm me with those strains continually. Don't look so frightened. We understand each other. I know you wouldn't dream of having me, so I am never going to ask you. You have certainly a fit of inspiration on you to-night. I don't think I have ever heard you play better.'

'Miss Thorn has tired herself I think,' said a voice near the door; and looking round, I saw that Mr. Stanton had been an unseen listener.

I sat down in my chair by the fire. 'I am tired,' I said. 'I think I shall go to bed, Nelly.'

Instantly Mr. Stanton came forward and gave me his arm. 'You are trembling all over,' he said very gently; 'lean on me. I am afraid it is your throat.'

I looked up at him. 'Yes,' I said. 'Will you ask Mrs. Forsyth to come to me? I am so sorry to give her the anxiety, but I am afraid I am going to be ill.'

There was a strange look in his eyes as his glance met mine--a look that haunted me through hours of weariness and pain afterwards. It seemed so full of tender concern and anxiety; but all he said was in a low tone as we left the room together, 'The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.'

Nelly came with me to my room, and in a very few moments her mother followed. I feared what Mrs. Forsyth might say, and began half apologising for the trouble I might give her; but she cut me short, and nothing could have been kinder or more restful than her words. She told Nelly to leave the room, helped me to bed herself, saying, 'Don't talk or worry yourself, child. I have sent for the doctor. It may be a very slight attack, and the quieter you keep the better. There is nothing for you to be anxious about. I shall send my maid to you presently; she is very good in sickness. Now lie still, and don't talk to any one. I only wish you had told me you were not feeling well before.'

The next week or ten days seemed like a dream; I hardly knew how ill I was till afterwards; but they had feared at one time that I would not pull through. The verse that Mr. Stanton gave me kept running through my head as a continual refrain: 'Underneath are the everlasting arms.' And I found it a wonderful pillow to rest upon. As I gradually recovered my health and strength, I was astonished at the extreme kindness of all in the house. My room was supplied with fresh flowers every day, and all varieties of books and magazines were constantly making their appearance.

Mrs. Forsyth was in and out of my room the whole time, though she would not allow her daughters to come near me, and nothing could have exceeded her kindness and attention.

'How is Roddy?' was one of the first questions I asked.

Lyle, Mrs. Forsyth's maid, answered me. 'He is getting well, miss. His mother has been in a sore state of fright about him, but the doctor was hopeful about him from the first.'

When Christmas Day came, it found me still in my room; but on New Year's Day I made my first appearance downstairs. I was surprised to find how weak I felt, and was glad to rest on the couch which Kenneth wheeled up towards the fire in the drawing-room for me.

'We have missed you very much,' said Kenneth, with a twinkle in his eye that invariably came there when he spoke to me; 'I fell to quarrelling with Nell from lack of occupation; she doesn't stand fire like you! Haven't you missed me? I am sure you must have.'

'I don't think I have thought of you once,' I replied with truth.

'And who do you think sent you those beautiful flowers every day if I did not?'

'I don't think it was you,' I said decidedly.

He laughed, and Nelly put in, 'Of course he didn't. Mr. Stanton was constantly bringing some back from London, if he failed to coax old Brown to cut him some from the houses. I think he has been the most attentive one all through!'

'Of course he has. I think he was longing to go in and read the Bible to you, if the mother had let him. Ministration of the sick, don't you call it? He will be very attentive yet, I assure you. We know the way the wind lies, don't we, Nell?'

'I know this, that you are not going to bully Hilda the very first day she comes down.'

Kenneth turned away with his low chuckle, and Nelly came up, and sitting down by me, put her hand on mine caressingly. 'You look as white and fragile as a piece of china, Hilda. I am so glad you are better. You don't know how we have missed you, and when I thought we were going to lose you altogether I was miserable. I thought over all the nasty things we had said to you, and how you had borne it like an angel, and then I thought you were going to be taken away because you were too good for us, and I was wretched!'

Her eyes were full of tears. She added impulsively, 'I prayed that you might be spared to us. I promised God I would turn over a new leaf and be more serious, and I want to keep that promise. You will help me, will you not? I so often wish I was more like you!'

'Dear Nelly,' I said, tears coming to my own eyes, 'I will do what I can to help you. I know you will never regret it if you do keep that promise!'

More we could not say then, for others came up, Mr. Stanton amongst them. He smiled as he took my hand. 'Welcome back, Miss Thorn. Are you glad to be amongst us again?'

'Yes,' I said, looking up at him, 'I think I am, though at one time I thought I should like to go. I did not think I would be missed.'

He did not answer for a minute, then he said in a low voice, 'I think the Lord has more work for you to do yet in this corner of His vineyard.'

I thought of Nelly, and wondered if that was to be my work. How often I had prayed that she might have the desire given to her to be different! She had always appeared so perfectly content with her life, that I wondered if anything would ever convince her of its emptiness.

I saw a great deal of Mr. Stanton during my convalescence; he would sometimes come into the morning-room where Nelly and I spent most of our time, and bring me a book or paper to read, often sitting down and reading it himself to us. And I soon lost all sense of constraint with him, and could talk to him as unrestrainedly as I could to any one.

Miss Graham would often join us in her spare time, and the days passed so pleasantly that I dreaded a change in them.

One afternoon I was lying back in an easy chair by the fire alone, when Mr. Stanton came in.

'I thought I would enjoy a little chat with you before dinner,' he said. 'I am going away in two days' time, so may not have another opportunity.'

My heart sank within me, but I knew that it must come, and steadied my voice as I replied simply, 'I am sorry.'

'Are you?' he said, bending down over me with a look in his eyes that I could not meet. 'Will you miss me when I am gone? I have such a longing to stay and surround you with the love and tenderness that I feel for you--to have the right of protecting and shielding you from so many things that must distress you in your life here. I wonder what your feelings are towards me? Could you trust me with your dear little self, or am I too old, and too grave to suit you? Do you care for me just a little--Hilda?'

I could not answer. Somehow or other I had never expected this or looked for it. To have him as a friend was as much as I had ever hoped, and I felt confused and bewildered by the thoughts of anything more.

He seemed to read my thoughts. 'I have taken you by surprise; do not give me your answer now. I will wait till to-morrow. I think I could make you happy, my child,' and there was a little wistfulness in his tone. 'I know how happy you would make me.'

I tried to speak, but could not. He stood up by the fireplace, looking down at me silently for a moment, then said, 'Do not distress yourself; it is no light thing I am asking you--to give yourself away for life to one you know so comparatively little. If I were a younger man, I should not hesitate so. But I do think we have a bond together which many have not--that of being fellow-workers and servants of the same Master. And,' here his voice broke a little, 'Hilda, dear child, you have my love; shall I be able to win yours?'

Then, as I was still silent, he made a movement as if about to leave me. 'I will not press you--give me an answer to-morrow.'

But by this time I knew my own heart. I raised ply head and put my hand on his arm. 'Don't go,' I murmured; 'I will give you the answer now.'

And the answer never got put into words, for with his strong arm round me all doubts vanished, and I knew that no one on earth occupied such a position in my heart as he did.

'I don't know what General Forsyth will say,' I said, a little time after, when I heard the first gong sound for dinner.

'I had his permission to come to you,' was the reply.

I went into Mrs. Forsyth's boudoir before dinner, but she seemed to know all about it, and kissed me in a most motherly fashion. 'I can see what you have come to tell me, child, and you have the best wishes of both the general and myself. You are exactly suited to each other in all your peculiar views, and he is able to give you a comfortable home. I thought when you were first taken ill how it would end, he was so concerned about you!'

It certainly was a surprise to me that all in the house seemed to have expected it but myself.

'It stands to reason, my dear Goody,' observed Kenneth when he heard it, '"that birds of a feather flock together." I think myself he has the best of the bargain. That is the first compliment I have ever paid you, I believe!'

I seemed to live in a dream for the next few days, for Mr. Stanton--or Philip, as I soon learnt to call him--postponed his departure for a week. He took me out for drives on warm, bright days, and was continually with me. It seemed to change my whole life, and I could only thank God again and again for His goodness. I suppose I had been so accustomed to live my life alone without receiving sympathy or help from any, that I had ceased to expect it, and Philip's tender, watchful care over me seemed sometimes more than I could bear.

I broke down one afternoon altogether, and it was only some trifling little piece of attention on his part that did it. 'You spoil me,' I cried; 'I have never had any one to care for my likes or dislikes before. You will make me selfish, Philip. Don't be so good to me.'

'I shall not spoil you,' he responded, with a smile. 'I want to make your life brighter. You have had plenty of loneliness in it, and now I have the pleasure of altering all that. Dear child, a little love and care will not make you selfish.'