Part 5 (2/2)

”Nothing does last for ever in this world,” said Lucy, with a constrained smile, ”and it would not do to be always children, you know. When childhood's over we have to put away childish things.”

”Lucy,--forgive me for calling you by the old familiar name--I cannot get any other from my lips. I believe my love for you _was_ a childish thing, for it was born in childhood's days. But it has grown with my growth and strengthened with my strength, and the one dearest wish of my soul is that the 'little sweetheart' of old times would be my sweetheart now! Lucy, my darling”----

”Mr. Fuller!” interposed Lucy, ”I must not, will not hear you any further. I will not appear to misunderstand you. I will not for a moment wrong you with the thought that you mean anything but what is true and honourable; but I must ask you, nay, command you, never again to speak to me like this. What you hint at can never, never be. The one thing for you to do is to leave me alone, now and ever, and let me go my way while you go yours. All the old times are over now--and you must forget that they have ever been.”

Poor Lucy found it hard work to get that last expression out, but she was not given to half measures where duty was involved, and she meant all she said.

”Don't be cruel,” he pleaded. ”I can never forget, and I will never, never give up the hope”----

But Lucy had sprung from him, for, seeing Old Adam Olliver jogging along on his lowly steed, she instantly resolved to instal him as her escort to the village. The old man had seen the sudden departure, had recognised the young squire, and, reading Lucy's flushed cheek and excited tone, came to his own conclusions, the nature of which we shall understand by-and-bye. Very little was said on their homeward way, and on arriving at the forge Lucy wished the old man ”good evening.”

”Good-neet, mah bairn,” said Adam. ”Ah's waint an' glad ah met wi'

yo'. Ah wadn't be oot varry leeat if ah were you. There's them aboot 'at's up te neea good.” With this enigmatical utterance he rode off, leaving Lucy to wonder what he meant, and how much he knew.

No sooner had the old hedger stabled his steed and sat down to his supper than he opened his mind to his dear ”aud woman,” who was in truth as well as name a helpmeet for him, his loving and trusted wife for forty years.

”Judy, my la.s.s, I isn't ower an' aboon satisfied aboot that young slip ov a squire.”

”What, Master Philip, d'ye meean? What's matter wiv 'im, Adam?”

”Why, ah's freetened 'at he's settin' sheep's e'en at Lucy Blyth. Thoo knoas she's parlous pratty. Ah've seen him efther 'er 'eels three or fower tahmes latly. Te-neet my lord was talkin' tiv her doon t' park looan, an' as seean as sha' saw me sha' shot awa' frev him like a 'are, an' comm wi' ma' all t' way yam. He steead an' leeak'd hard, a goodish bit dumfoonder'd, an' then wheel'd roond an' went tow'rd t'

park.”

”Hey, but that's a bad 'earin', Adam,” said Judith. ”Lucy Blyth's a gell 'at would tonn ony yung fellow's head. But ah don't believe that she'll do owt wrong, won't Lucy.”

”_She_ deea owt wrang? Nut she,” said Adam; ”bud ah's vastly misteea'n if _he_ weean't; an' ah deean't think it's right nut te let Nathan knoa.”

”Nay, ah hoap there's nowt in it, efther all, Adam. Lucy's a la.s.s 'at 'll allus tak' care of hersen, an' ah's sure t' young squire's as nice and fine a young fellow as you can finnd atween here an' York.”

Judy was a true woman, it will be seen, and the possible loves of two young people found a certain favour in her eyes.

As for Lucy Blyth, she went home the subject of feelings very difficult to describe, and for many days the struggle between love and duty was very severe. She found herself utterly unable to ”cast his image from her heart,” and, like the fair maiden described by Dryden, she might have said--

”I am not what I was; since yesterday My strength forsakes me, and my needful rest; I pine, I languish, love to be alone: Think much, speak little, and in speaking sigh.

I went to bed, and to myself I thought That I would think on Torrismond no more; Then shut my eyes, but could not shut out him.”

Lucy, however, had ”strength to worldly minds unknown,” and set herself to ”conquer in this strife.”

Matters continued thus for several days. Then Adam Olliver again chanced to meet Master Philip, who was walking along with bended head, and with his mind so pre-occupied that he did not hear the old man's courteous salutation, ”It's a feyn neet, sur,” and pa.s.sed on without response. Further on he came upon Lucy Blyth, who had just undergone an ordeal similar to the last. Maintaining her usual firmness of denial, she had sent her lover away in such evident sorrow and distress that she was indulging in a quiet little cry of sympathy.

Adam surprised her with her 'kerchief to her eyes, and waxed wroth against the rude offender who had thus distressed his favourite.

”Why, Lucy, mi' la.s.s, what's matter wi' yo'? Ah can't abide to see yo' like that. Hez onnybody been upsettin' yo'? 'Cause if they hev, it mun be putten a stop tae, an' it sall, if ah hev te deea it mysen.”

Poor Lucy, dreadfully afraid that Philip's persistent wooing should be known, hastened to a.s.sure him that there was no need to trouble.

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