by L. T. Meade
you.
"I left the hospital without having let out one single thing 'boutmyself. It don't matter to you, young man, how I felt. I thought overeverythink, and I went to see Jill. Afore I spoke to her mother I madesure as the pretty bit of a cuttin' wor a-taking real root in my 'eart;but arter I heard Poll's story, I made jest as sure as she never caredfor me; she only married me to save herself. To make a long storyshort, it seems that you give her five pounds to take care on for a palo' yourn. Well, she lost the money--I make no doubt, from what I draw'dout of her, that her mother stole it. She come to me to ask me to lendher five pounds. I said I'd give it to her ef she'd wed me. She saidno at first; but the next morning early she come all the way down to mybit of a cottage in Kent and said yes as she would wed me ef I'd giveher the five pounds and arsk no questions. You may well look queer, NatCarter. You ask your own 'eart what you did to make a gel like Jillgive yer up, and be too frighted to tell yer the truth. Look atme--_I'm_ rough enough, 'eaven knows--but do yer think she'd befrightened to arsk me anythink? No, no; that ain't Jill. And now thepint to be decided on is, What's best for her 'appiness?"
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
Even the humblest abode can look gay and bright when it is decked allover with flowers, and when the windows look out on gay gardens andblooming plants, and lake in also distant peeps of lovely country. Kenthas been well called the garden of England, and that part where SilasLynn lived, and where his little flower farm was, was as brilliant andas rich in all kinds of vegetation as any spot in the whole of thecounty.
Aunt Hannah Royal was, as she expressed it, in every event "all onething or t'other." She either went with all her heart and soul for aperson, or she determined to oppose them with equal vigour. There wasnothing half-hearted about her, she could never have been called in anysense of the word lukewarm. She had come to Silas's cottage with thefull intention of opposing his marriage with Jill, and, if possible,preventing it. She had left the cottage on the first night of herinterview considerably softened in her views with regard to things ingeneral. She had made up her mind to see Jill before she took any moresteps against her. She had also made up her mind that the tea-drinkingout of that delicate "chaney" should prove a success.
When Jill arrived, and when shortly afterwards she echoed Aunt Hannah'ssentiments with regard to the lovely cups and saucers, the old woman'sheart was completely won. She ceased to oppose Silas's marriage. Shekissed him when she next saw him, and told him that the "gel wor asweet-looking gel, and she made no doubt as she'd be humble andteachable, and willing to learn, not only of her husband, but of herAunt Hannah."
"Then, Aunt Hannah," said Silas, "you'll ondertake the wedding-feast,won't you?"
Aunt Hannah decided that she would, and the next morning she came tolive at the cottage, and spent every instant of her time preparing theeatables, without which no wedding in her opinion could be properlysolemnised.
A few of the village folks had been asked to meet the bride at Silas'slittle cottage. The whole party were then to walk to church together,and afterwards, late in the evening, Silas and his wife were to go awayby train to the nearest sea-side place.
This was the little programme which Aunt Hannah Royal devoutly believedwas to be carried out.
Mary Ann Hatton, Mrs Hibberty Jones, another neighbour of the name ofAnn Spires, and two or three men, were all waiting in the little parlourwhen Silas appeared leading Jill by the hand.
The little bride wore a new print dress with a tiny spray of rose-budsall over it. Her beautiful hair was bound tightly round her head, butin spite of all her careful brushing, some tendrils would get loose.She wore no ornament of any kind, not even a flower from Silas's garden.As he took her hand and led her into the midst of his friends, shelooked at him as if expecting the gay bouquet which he had promised her.He took no notice of her questioning gaze, however, but, leading herforward, stood before the expectant company.
"Neighbours and friends," he said, "I ha' to thank you for coming hereto-day. You have known me, most of you, for many years, and I'm sureyou are all willing and proud to look on at the great 'appiness which itseems to you I'm 'bout to have."
When Silas said these words, old Peters made a profound bow to thebride.
"There ain't no doubt on the pint of _your_ 'appiness, Silas," he said.
"I don't think there is any doubt," answered Silas, with a queer look onhis face. "Ef I wor to take this young gel to my 'eart it'd be all thesame as ef I wor back again in the spring-time of life. The gladnessand the lightness of youth would come back to me. Summer's all verywell," continued Silas, looking round at his friends, "but for gaietythere's no time like spring. Now this young gel is in the early spring,and I, neighbours, I'm a man as is enjoying of his late summer. I'mfull-blown, and this yere young gel is a bud. Now which, neighbours,would you say wor the most waluable from the market-gardener's pint ofview, the bud or the flower wot's come to its maturity?"
"I allers set store by buds," said Mary Ann Hatton, in her tart voice."There's a sight o' promise 'bout 'em, and we know as the full-blownflower have _had_ its day; but I'm meaning no disrespect to you, Silas."
"No more you are, Mary Ann, and I'm obleeged for a plain answer. Nowthat pint's clear. The bud's more waluable nor the full-blown flower.Neighbours, I'm glad to see yer, for I ha' got a case for you all todecide. I didn't think as there wor sech a decision to be made when Iasked yer to my wedding, but circumstances has arose sence I last sawany of yer, wot makes it but fair that this young gel should get yourmature opinion."
"Wot is it, Silas?" asked Jill, suddenly turning round and looking athim. "I ha' come down yere to wed yer; it ain't no affair of anyone'sbut yours and mine. Maybe we ought to be going to the church, Silas;maybe it's 'bout time."
"Hark to the little cuttin'" said Silas, with a harsh, troubled laugh;"you can't none of yer say, neighbours, as she ain't willin'. Now, mylittle dearie, you let Silas speak. I ha' thought it all out, and Imeans to put the case to my good friends here. I think they has alreadyanswered me, but I'll put the question once more. Neighbours all, efone of us two could only be made 'appy by this yere wedding, which is tobe most considered, the bud or the full-blown flower?"
"It's a wery queer question," said Peters, "but, in course, we must giveit for the bud, Silas."
"No, I don't see nothink of the sort," exclaimed Aunt Hannah. "SilasLynn is a man of family; he comes of a pious stock, what tuk great careof their chaney, and mended their carpets, and polished up theirfurniture. Silas's mother, what died of the asthmey, were asGod-fearing and 'spectable a woman as wore shoe leather. Silas comes ofa good stock, and that, in a case of weddin', is much to be considered.I'm not saying anythink agen that young gel; she has right opinions, andshe can be trained; but when all's said and done, she's a London gel,and she's in rare luck to get Silas."
"That's wot I think, Aunt Hannah," said Jill; she went up to Silas asshe spoke and linked her hand in his arm. "I'm not ashamed to say,Silas," she continued, looking him full in the face with a greattenderness filling her eyes, "that I love yer better each day. I'mabundantly willing to marry yer, Silas."
"Thank you, my little gel," said Silas. "Thank you, too, Aunt Hannah,but in a case like the present a man must judge for himself. I'll askyer now one plain question, Jill. Look solemn into yer 'eart, my gel,and tell me true as you wor standing afore the angels, is there no manon this 'arth what you love better nor me? You answer me that pintwerry plain. Do you love me, Silas Lynn, better nor anyone else onGod's wide 'arth?"
Silas's words, his attitude, the piercing way he looked at Jill had agreat effect on all the visitors. Even Aunt Hannah began to feel thatthere was more in all this talk than appeared on the surface. As forJill herself, she turned first pale, then rosy red. After a very shortpause she said in a queer tone:
"I couldn't tell yer a lie to-day, Silas. I can only say, let by-gonesbe by-gones, and I can faithfully promise afore God Almighty to make yera good wife."
"But I won't have yer for a wife ef you don't love me best of all," saidSilas. "Wait one moment, Jill. There's someone else to have a say inthis yere." He walked across the room and flung the door open. "Comein, Nat Carter, and speak for yerself," he called out. "Ef Jill can sayas she loves me more than you, why I'll take her to church and wed her.Ef not--now,