Part 9 (1/2)
”My dear father! Your love is precious to me, and your will is law. I cannot promise not to love Lucy. I have not the power to keep it if I did. I cannot promise to give up the hope that one day you may look upon my heart's desire with favour. But, so long as you forbear to urge any other alliance on me, I promise to your love, that I will not grieve you by any further steps in this direction.”
”And you will not seek an interview with this young woman without my full permission?”
Philip paused a moment while love and duty, or rather while two loves, fought a hard battle in his soul, and then the love that was allied with duty won the day, and he said, ”Father, I will not.”
The father rose from his seat, bent forward, and kissed him on the brow. ”Philip,” said he, ”I bless you. G.o.d will bless you for that word.”
Squire Fuller's next step was to despatch a note to Nathan Blyth, for he felt that no stone must be left unturned to a.s.sure the victory he had gained. A short time afterwards, therefore, the blacksmith received the following epistle:--
”SIR,--It has come to my knowledge that my son has been foolish enough to commit himself, by a stupid profession of love, to your daughter. Though this is doubtless a young man's whim, and a mere pa.s.sing fancy, I greatly object to it, and he has promised me that he will desist from what I am sure you will agree with me in describing as unseemly and improper. I write this _private_ communication in order to suggest to your daughter that she should not encourage such a wild dream, and that you will use your authority in keeping her out of his way.
I trust I have said nothing herein to give you offence, and am, &c.,
”AINSLEY FULLER.”
When Nathan Blyth had read the letter twice through, he bade the messenger to wait, and speedily sent the following missive in return:--
”SIR,--You cannot be more glad than I am that Master Philip has made the promise to which you refer. Nothing is more contrary to my desire than that he should ever speak to her again. And permit me respectfully to a.s.sure you that my daughter has given him no encouragement; and, without the exertion of any authority of mine, will not only not seek, but will repel any advances on his part. Both she and I are agreed that nothing could be more lamentable than to suffer any such forgetfulness of the difference between his position and ours. You may rest a.s.sured that no encouragement, but the direct opposite, will always be given to such an act of folly.
”I am, Sir, yours respectfully,
”NATHAN BLYTH.”
Squire Fuller could hardly believe his own eyes as he read the letter, couched in such fitting language, so eminently respectful, and especially so gratifying in its contents. He had imagined that Nathan and his daughter would have regarded Philip as a prize to be hooked, if possible, and had written his note with a view to crush out the faintest hope of success in their plot for Lucy's aggrandis.e.m.e.nt. He felt such a sense of satisfaction and relief that he resolved to ride over to the forge and express his thanks and pleasure to the writer.
The next morning, therefore, the stately squire bestrode his favourite grey mare, and took his morning ride in the direction of Blithe Natty's house. That cheerful knight of the hammer was busy at his post, and the ringing anvil, as usual, was accompanied by his musical and sonorous song.
Wherever my fortune may lead me, Whate'er sort of hap it may bring, The blessing of G.o.d will still speed me, And this is the song I will sing--
Away with all fear and repining, Away with all doubting and grief: On the bosom of Jesus reclining, He'll never withhold me relief.
Affliction will come, if He sends it, Or sorrow my portion may be; I'll cheerfully bear till He ends it, Till I His salvation shall see.
With loving and honest endeavour, Still striving my duty to do, I'll love Him and trust Him for ever, For ever be honest and true.
The sun in the heavens is s.h.i.+ning, Though clouds may oft gather below, Each one has a silvery lining, And rains down a gift as I go.
The streamlet runs clear o'er the gravel, The breezes blow pure o'er the lea; Just so in my course would I travel, With Jesus to journey with me.
I want neither honour nor riches, I care not for rank or for gold; For this kind of fortune bewitches The soul--at least so I've been told.
Contented and happy and healthy, Pray why should I covet or sigh, To be t.i.tled or famous or wealthy?
Can any man answer me why?
But one thing through life will I covet-- To hate the whole compa.s.s of wrong; To do aye the right and to love it, To sing as I travel along.
Wherever my fortune may lead me, Whate'er sort of hap it may bring, The blessing of G.o.d will aye speed me, And so as I travel I sing.
Such was the blithe and cheery ditty which Nathan Blyth was chanting when Squire Fuller rode up to the smithy door.
”Good morning, Blyth,” said he; ”it's a good sign when people sing at their work. One would conclude that it's neither too hard nor ill paid.”