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.’