Part 30 (1/2)
”Thank you! The case is just here. My son Philip--(”G.o.d bless 'im,”
said Adam)--loves Lucy Blyth--(”G.o.d bless 'er,” said Adam)--with all the strength of his nature. I believe that his love and his life are bound up together. As you know, I strongly opposed it, as also did her father. Both the young people, with a filial devotion beyond all praise--(”G.o.d bless 'em,” said Adam)--submitted to our decision. Since then, I and mine have been in the furnace. My son has been at the door of death, and my life has been shadowed by the heaviest cloud that ever darkened a human heart. My life was saved from the hand of a ruffian, my boy was brought from the brink of the grave, and I was brought back to my Bible and my Saviour--(”Halleluia!” said Adam)--by the instrumentality of Lucy Blyth. All I have to-day of trust in Christ, and peace of mind and hope of heaven, I owe to these two young people--(”Glory be te G.o.d!” said Adam, while sympathetic tears were coursing down his cheeks). Do you wonder, Adam Olliver, that all my opposition died away? Do you wonder that the great desire of my heart is to see these two man and wife? I gave my son permission to ask for her at her father's hands. He refused, and my son came back to me with no light in his eye, and I cannot bear to see my boy breaking his heart over an impossible love. Be my friend, and gain from him the consent he will not give to me. Tell him that before G.o.d and man it is right that these two, so strangely and mysteriously brought together, should be one in life and death, one to labour for Jesus and His cause; one to be a blessing to Waverdale, and good stewards for G.o.d when I am dead and gone!”
”Nathan Blyth!” said Adam, ”noo's the tahme 'at we've been axin' for.
Yah wod frae you will mak' three 'arts 'appy, will pleease G.o.d, an'
fill all Nestleton wi' joy! Ah deean't think 'at you've mitch doot ye'rsen, bud if yo' hev, just let ma' remind yo' 'at Lucy owt te hev a mind ov 'er aun, an' 'at yo' owt te lissen te what _she_ hez te say.”
In all his life Nathan Blyth had never been so moved. His independent spirit, his conviction of duty wrestled with his tenderness of heart, while the question forced itself upon him as to whether his convictions were of G.o.d. His cool judgment was at war with the impulses of his soul. But Adam's last idea had laid abiding hold upon him. What will Lucy say? After all, her's was the weightiest voice; beyond a certain point, he had no right to force her obedience, or be the arbiter of her destiny, or bind an adamantine chain around her life. He had done his duty with an honest conscience; now he was compelled to own that he himself was wavering, that Providence seemed to be on the other side, and so standing up before the anxious squire, whose humility was something wonderful to see, he said,--
”Squire Fuller, I yield. I've done all I can to hinder it, but I dare not further withhold my consent. My judgment does not approve, but it may be misguided and unsound, and I have never known Adam Olliver at fault; he lives too near to G.o.d for that. The matter rests with Lucy, and no influence of mine shall be exerted to hinder her from deciding according to the dictates of her conscience and the wishes of her heart.”
”Thank you for that, Nathan Blyth. I have as much confidence in her as you have,” said Squire Fuller. ”I cannot ask you for more, and may G.o.d guide us all aright.”
”He will,” said Adam Olliver, ”an' as seear as ah's a livin' man, Lucy Blyth's 'Yis' or 'No' 'll be gi'en be' t' grace o' G.o.d. Squire Fuller, ah've neea desire te see fooaks get oot o' their station i' life, bud t' truth is, Lucy Blyth isn't in hors, an's called be' t' Providence o' G.o.d te c.u.m up higher.”
”I believe you are right, good old man,” said Mr. Fuller, half beside himself with joy, ”and if ever 'marriages were made in heaven,' it will be the case when that charming girl becomes the bride of my n.o.ble-hearted son!”
CHAPTER x.x.xVI.
SISTER AGATHA'S GHOST.
”True as the knights of story, Sir Lancelot and his peers, Brave in his calm endurance, As they in tilt of spears.
Knight of a better era, Without reproach or fear!
Said I not well that Bayards And Sidneys still are here?”
_Whittier._
It was customary to hold missionary meetings in the various villages of the Kesterton Circuit during the months of winter; and these occasions were almost always characterised by an outcome of hospitality on the part of the sympathising villagers, an enthusiasm in the great mission cause, and a liberality in its support which was very beautiful to see. The speakers usually consisted of, at least, one of the circuit ministers, a minister from a neighbouring circuit as ”the deputation,” and a local preacher or two, with some neighbouring man of influence and means to take the chair. The reading of the ”report,” containing an abstract of the general doings of the society, was not usually a popular part of the programme, but the statement of local subscriptions and donations always made up for that. Probably the names of one or two neighbouring farmers appeared with the time-honoured ”guinea” appended as their annual donation.
There was sure to be a missionary box or two, containing the result of much patient painstaking on the part of the collector during the preceding year. Not seldom, a missionary lamb, or goose, or pear-tree, or other cash-producing ent.i.ty, figured in the report, and told of contrivance and self-sacrifice on the part of some who desired to have an honourable ”share in the concern.”
About the period of which I am writing, the annual meeting was appointed to be held at Bexton, a considerable village situated a few miles from the circuit town. As usual, the day was regarded by the generality of Bextonians as being quite as fit an occasion for a holiday as the village feast. The farmyards of the Methodist farmers, as well as the open s.p.a.ce beside the ”King's Head,” was filled with gigs, traps, spring-carts, and other vehicles, which had brought a large number of invited visitors; for the good folks of Bexton were resolved that the proceeds of the anniversary should go ”beyond last year.” They accounted themselves peculiarly fortunate in having secured the young squire of Waverdale as the chairman on this auspicious occasion, and on having captured a ”great gun from York as the deputation.” Both Mr. Clayton and his colleague were present, as well as Mr. Harrison, a local preacher from Kesterton; and last, not least, Old Adam Olliver had accepted the warm invitation of a sister of Mrs. Houston's who resided in the village, and as the quaint old man was a prime favourite all round the neighbourhood, nothing would do but he must take a seat on the platform and say a few words to the people.
Philip Fuller opened the proceedings with a brief and simple address, and did his work in such a transparently earnest and una.s.suming fas.h.i.+on that he was heartily cheered; and Mr. Mitch.e.l.l was led subsequently to make the original remark that ”the chairman had struck the keynote, and given a good tone to the meeting.” Philip described himself as only a ”raw recruit” in the great army, but, ”thanks to his old friend, Adam Olliver,” he had no doubt of his enlistment in the Church militant, and, said he, ”by G.o.d's help, I will not only never desert or betray my Captain, but will spend my life in the interests of His cause.”
In the course of the meeting, the Chairman, having called upon Mr.
Mitch.e.l.l, Mr. Clayton, and Mr. Harrison, said that ”Mr. Olliver” would now address the meeting. Loud and long-continued cheers greeted the announcement, amid which Adam retained his seat, looking all round the platform and the congregation, and finally at the door, to see the man who was having so warm a welcome. When the cheering had subsided, the Chairman looked at Adam, and Adam looked at him. All at once a light broke in on the old man, and jumping to his feet, he said,--
”Lawk-a-ma.s.sy! Maister Philip! Ah didn't knoa 'at yo' meant me. Ah nivver was called 'Mr. Olliver' i' all mi' life afoore, an' me an' it dizn't seeam te agree. It's like blo'in' t' cooachman's 'orn iv a wheelbarro', or puttin' a gilt knocker on a barn deear. Ah've been ax'd te say a few wods, bud ah isn't mitch ov a speeaker, an' yo'
needn't be freeten'd 'at ah sall tak' up mitch o' yer tahme. Ah knoa 'at yo' want te hear t' greeat man 'at's c.u.m all t' way frae York te help i' this good cause. G.o.d bless 'im! an' give him mooth, matter, an' wisdom, an' tak' 'im seeafe yam ageean, nae wa.r.s.e i' body an'
better i' sowl. Maister Philip, ah've c.u.m frae Kesterton mainly te see you i' that chair. You're t' right man i' t' right spot. Ah sall nivver forget that 'appy day upo' Nestleton Woad, when the Lord 'listed yo', as you say, an' gav' yo' the boonty munny o' pardonin'
peeace. Ah's quite sartain 'at t' greeat Captain ov oor salvaytion meeans yo' te be, nut a private souldier, bud a general i' t' hosts o'
G.o.d's elect; an' ah pray ivvery day o' my life 'at G.o.d 'll bless yo', an' mak' yo' a blessin': that yo' may fight the good fight o' fayth an' lay hod ov etarnal life. Ah luv t' mission cause, because it brings peris.h.i.+n' sowls te Jesus, an' tak's t' blood-stayned banner o'
t' Cross inte heeathen lands. Ah prays for it all'us, an' ah gives all t' bra.s.s ah can spare, efter buyin' breead an' cheese for me an' Judy, te the Lord's cause beeath at worn an' abroad. Ah's glad te see sae monny labourin' men here te-neet. Mah deear frens, you an' me can't gie mitch munny, but we can pray as hard as onybody; an' it isn't hoo mitch we gie, bud hoo mitch we luv, an' hoo 'artily we deea wer best.