Part 23 (1/2)
”Do you know much of Harry?”
”I do and I love him. I have kept watch over him for some months. He is worth loving and worth saving. Go at once to him.”
”Have you any opinion about the best means to be used in the future?”
”He must leave London and come to Hatton where he can be under your constant care. Will you accept this charge? I do not mind telling you that it is your duty. These looms and spindles any clever spinner can direct right, but it takes a soul to save a soul. You know that.”
”I will be in London tonight, Mr. Lugur. You are a friend worth having.
I thank you.”
”Good-bye! I leave for Cardiff at once. I leave Harry with G.o.d and you--and I would not be hard with Harry.”
”I shall not. I love Harry.”
”You cannot help loving him. He is doing wrong, but you cannot stop loving him, and you know it was _while as yet we were sinners_, G.o.d loved and saved us. Good-bye, sir!”
The door closed and John turned the key and sat down for a few minutes to consider his position. This sorrow on the top of his disagreement with Jane and his anxiety about the threatened war in America called forth all his latent strength. He told himself that he must now put personal feelings aside and give his attention first of all to Harry's case, it being evidently the most urgent of the duties before him. Jane if left for a few days would no doubt be more reasonable. Greenwood could be safely left to look after Hatton mill and to buy for it all the cotton he could lay his hands on. He had not the time to visit his mother, but he wrote her a few words of explanation and as he knew Jane's parlors were full of women, he sent her the following note:
MY DEARLY LOVED WIFE,
Instant and important business takes me at a moment's notice to London. I have no time to come and see you, and solace my heart with a parting glance of your beauty, to hear your whispered good-bye, or taste the living sweetness of your kiss, but you will be constantly present with me. Waking, I shall be loving and thinking of you; sleeping I shall be dreaming of you. Dearest of all sweet, fair women, do not forget me. Let me throb with your heart and live in your constant memory. I will write you every day, and you will make all my work easy and all my hours happy if you send me a few kind words to the Charing Cross Hotel. I do not think I shall be more than three or four days absent, but however short or long the time may be, I am beyond all words,
Your devoted husband, JOHN HATTON.
This letter written, John hurried to the railway station, but in spite of express trains, it was dark when he reached London, and long after seven o'clock when he reached his brother's house. He noticed at once that the parlors were unlit and that the whole building had a dark, unprosperous, unhappy appearance. A servant woman admitted him, and almost simultaneously Lucy came running downstairs to meet him, for during the years that had pa.s.sed since her marriage to Harry Hatton, Lucy had become a real sister to John and he had for her a most sincere affection.
They went into a parlor in which there had been a fire and stood talking for a few moments. But the fire was nearly out, and the girl had only left a candle on the table, and Lucy said, ”I was sitting upstairs, John, beside the children. Harry told me it would be late when he returned home, so I went to the nursery. You see children are such good company. Will you go with me to the nursery? It is the girl's night out, but if you prefer to----”
”Let us go to the nursery, Lucy, and send the girl out. I have come specially to have a long talk with you about Harry and her absence will be a good thing.”
Then he took her hand and they went together to a large room upstairs.
There was a bright fire burning on this hearth and a large fur rug before it. A pretty ba.s.sinet, in which a lovely girl-baby was sleeping, was on one side of the hearth and Lucy's low nursing-chair on the other side, and a little round table set ready for tea in the center. A snow-white bed in a distant corner held the two boys, Stephen and Ralph, who were fast asleep. John stooped first to the baby, and kissed it, and Lucy said, ”I have called her Agnes. It was my mother's name when she was on earth. Do you think they call her Agnes in heaven, John?”
_”He hath called thee by thy name_, is one of the tokens given us of G.o.d's fatherhood, Lucy.”
”Well, John, a father must care what his children are called--if he cares for the children.”
”Yes, we may be sure of that.” As he spoke, he was standing by the sleeping boys. He loved both, but he loved Stephen, the elder, with an extraordinary affection. And as he looked at the sleeping child, the boy opened his eyes. Then a beautiful smile illumined his face, a delightful cry of wonder and joy parted his lips, and he held out his arms to John.
Without a moment's hesitation, John lifted him.
”Dear little Stephen!” he said. ”I wish you were a man!”
”Then I would always stay with you, Uncle.”
”Yes, yes! Now you must go to sleep and tomorrow I will take you to the Hippodrome.”