Part 7 (1/2)

'How one's thoughts change,--this morning I was full of a hope, Paul.'

He paused, and then he said,--

'You put that sketch in carefully?'

'That outline of a head?' asked I. But I knew he meant an abortive sketch of Phillis, which had not been successful enough for him to complete it with shading or colouring.

'Yes. What a sweet innocent face it is! and yet so--Oh, dear!' He sighed and got up, his hands in his pockets, to walk up and down the room in evident disturbance of mind. He suddenly stopped opposite to me.

'You'll tell them how it all was. Be sure and tell the good minister that I was so sorry not to wish him good-bye, and to thank him and his wife for all their kindness. As for Phillis,--please G.o.d in two years I'll be back and tell her myself all in my heart.'

'You love Phillis, then?' said I.

'Love her! Yes, that I do. Who could help it, seeing her as I have done? Her character as unusual and rare as her beauty! G.o.d bless her!

G.o.d keep her in her high tranquillity, her pure innocence.--Two years!

It is a long time.--But she lives in such seclusion, almost like the sleeping beauty, Paul,'--(he was smiling now, though a minute before I had thought him on the verge of tears,)--'but I shall come back like a prince from Canada, and waken her to my love. I can't help hoping that it won't be difficult, eh, Paul?'

This touch of c.o.xcombry displeased me a little, and I made no answer.

He went on, half apologetically,--

'You see, the salary they offer me is large; and beside that, this experience will give me a name which will ent.i.tle me to expect a still larger in any future undertaking.'

'That won't influence Phillis.'

'No! but it will make me more eligible in the eyes of her father and mother.' I made no answer.

'You give me your best wishes, Paul,' said he, almost pleading. 'You would like me for a cousin?'

I heard the scream and whistle of the engine ready down at the sheds.

'Ay, that I should,' I replied, suddenly softened towards my friend now that he was going away. 'I wish you were to be married to-morrow, and I were to be best man.'

'Thank you, lad. Now for this cursed portmanteau (how the minister would be shocked); but it is heavy!' and off we sped into the darkness.

He only just caught the night train at Eltham, and I slept, desolately enough, at my old lodgings at Miss Dawsons', for that night. Of course the next few days I was busier than ever, doing both his work and my own. Then came a letter from him, very short and affectionate. He was going out in the Sat.u.r.day steamer, as he had more than half expected; and by the following Monday the man who was to succeed him would be down at Eltham. There was a P.S., with only these words:--'My nosegay goes with me to Canada, but I do not need it to remind me of Hope Farm.'

Sat.u.r.day came; but it was very late before I could go out to the farm.

It was a frosty night, the stars shone clear above me, and the road was crisping beneath my feet. They must have heard my footsteps before I got up to the house. They were sitting at their usual employments in the house-place when I went in. Phillis's eyes went beyond me in their look of welcome, and then fell in quiet disappointment on her work.

'And where's Mr Holdsworth?' asked cousin Holman, in a minute or two.

'I hope his cold is not worse,--I did not like his short cough.'

I laughed awkwardly; for I felt that I was the bearer of unpleasant news.

'His cold had need be better--for he's gone--gone away to Canada!'

I purposely looked away from Phillis, as I thus abruptly told my news.

'To Canada!' said the minister.