Part 53 (1/2)
Fully occupied with his work for Mr. Galloway, it was several days since Arthur had called on Jenkins, and the change he now saw in his face struck him sharply. The skin was drawn, the eyes were unnaturally bright, the cheeks had fallen in; certainly there could not be very many hours of life left to Jenkins. A smile sat on his parched lips, and his eyelashes became moist as he looked up to Arthur, and held out his feeble hand.
”I knew you would be cleared, sir! I knew that G.o.d would surely bring the right to light! I have been humbly thanking Him for you, sir, all day.”
Arthur's eyes glistened also as he bent over him. ”You have heard it, then, Jenkins? I thought you would.”
”Yes, sir, I heard it this morning, when it was getting towards mid-day. I had a visit, sir, from his lords.h.i.+p the bishop. I had, indeed! He came up as he has done before--as kindly, and with as little ceremony, as if he had been a poor body like myself. It was he who first told me, Mr. Arthur.”
”I am glad he came to see you, Jenkins.”
”He talked so pleasantly, sir. 'It is a journey that we must all take, Jenkins,' he said; 'and for my part, I think it matters little whether we take it sooner or later, so that G.o.d vouchsafes to us the grace to prepare for it.' For affability, sir, it was just as if it had been a brother talking to me; but he said things different from what any poor brother of mine could have said, and they gave me comfort. Then he asked me if I had taken the Sacrament lately; and I thanked him, and said I had taken it on Sunday last; our clergyman came round to me after service. Mr. Arthur”--and poor Jenkins's eyes wore an eager look of grat.i.tude--”I feel sure that his lords.h.i.+p would have administered it to me with his own hands. I wonder whether all bishops are like him!”
Arthur did not answer. Jenkins resumed, quitting the immediate topic for another.
”And I hear, sir, that Mr. Channing has come home restored, and that the little boy is found. His lords.h.i.+p was so good as to tell me both. Oh, Mr. Arthur, how merciful G.o.d has been!”
”We are finding Him so, just now,” fervently spoke Arthur.
”And it is all right again, sir, with you and Mr. Galloway?”
”Quite right. I am to remain in the office. I am to be in your place, Jenkins.”
”You'll occupy a better position in it, sir, than I ever did. But you will not be all alone, surely?”
”Young Bartlett is coming to be under me. Mr. Galloway has made final arrangements to-day. We shall go on all right now.”
”Ay,” said Jenkins, folding his thin hands upon the counterpane, and speaking as in self-commune; ”we must live near to G.o.d to know His mercy. It does seem almost as if I had asked a favour of any earthly person, so exactly has it been granted me! Mr. Arthur, I prayed that I might live to see you put right with Mr. Galloway and the town, and I felt as sure as I could feel, by some inward evidence which I cannot describe, but which was plain to me, that G.o.d heard me, and would grant me my wish. It seems, sir, as if I had been let live for that. I shan't be long now.”
”While there is life there is hope, you know, Jenkins,” replied Arthur, unable to say anything more cheering in the face of circ.u.mstances.
”Mr. Arthur, the hope for me now is, to go,” said Jenkins. ”I would not be restored if I could. How can I tell, sir, but I might fall away from G.o.d? If the call comes to-night, sir, it will find me ready. Oh, Mr. Arthur, if people only knew the peace of living close to G.o.d--of feeling that they are READY! Ready for the summons, let it come in the second or third watch!”
”Jenkins!” exclaimed Arthur, as the thought struck him: ”I have not heard you cough once since I came in! Is your cough better!”
”Oh, sir, there's another blessing! Now that I have grown so weak that the cough would shatter me--tear my frame to pieces--it is gone! It is nearly a week, sir, since I coughed at all. My death-bed has been made quite pleasant for me. Except for weakness, I am free from pain, and I have all things comfortable. I am rich in abundance: my wife waits upon me night and day--she lets me want for nothing; before I can express a wish, it is done. When I think of all the favours showered down upon me, and how little I can do, or have ever done, for G.o.d, in return, I am overwhelmed with shame.”
”Jenkins, one would almost change places with you, to be in your frame of mind,” cried Arthur, his tone impa.s.sioned.
”G.o.d will send the same frame of mind to all who care to go to Him,” was the reply. ”Sir,” and now Jenkins dropped his voice, ”I was grieved to hear about Mr. Roland. I could not have thought it.”
”Ay; it was unwelcome news, for his own sake.”
”I never supposed but that the post-office must have been to blame. I think, Mr. Arthur, he must have done it in a dream; as one, I mean, who has not his full faculties about him. I hope the Earl of Carrick will take care of him. I hope he will live to come back a good, brave man! If he would only act less on impulse and more on principle, it would be better for him. Little Master Charles has been ill, I hear, sir? I should like to see him.”
”I will bring him to see you,” replied Arthur.
”Will you, sir?” and Jenkins's face lighted up. ”I should like just to set eyes on him once again. But--it must be very soon, Mr. Arthur.”
”You think so?” murmured Arthur.
”I know it, sir--I feel it. I do not say it before my wife, sir, for I don't think she sees herself that I am so near the end, and it would only grieve her. It will grieve her, sir, whenever it comes, though she may not care to show people that it does. I shall see you again, I hope, Mr. Arthur?”
”That you shall be sure to do. I will not miss a day now, without coming in. It will do me good to see you, Jenkins; to hear you tell me, again, of your happy state of resignation.”
”It is better than resignation, Mr. Arthur, it is a state of hope. Not but that I shall leave some regrets behind me. My wife will be lone and comfortless, and must trust to her own exertions only. And my poor old father--”
”If I didn't know it! If I didn't know that, on some subject or other, he'd be safe to be worrying himself, or it would not be him! I'd put myself into my grave at once, if I were you, Jenkins. As good do it that way, as by slow degrees.”
Of course you cannot fail to recognize the voice. She entered at that unlucky moment when Jenkins was alluding to his father. He attempted a defence--an explanation.
”My dear, I was not worrying. I was only telling Mr. Arthur Channing that there were some things I should regret to leave. My poor old father for one; he has looked to me, naturally, to help him a little bit in his old age, and I would rather, so far as that goes, have been spared to do it. But, neither that nor anything else can worry me now. I am content to leave all to G.o.d.”
”Was ever the like heard?” retorted Mrs. Jenkins, ”Not worrying! I know. If you were not worrying, you wouldn't be talking. Isn't old Jenkins your father, and shan't I take upon myself to see that he does not want? You know I shall, Jenkins. When do I ever go from my word?”
”My dear, I know you will do what's right,” returned Jenkins, in his patient meekness: ”but the old man will feel it hard, my departing before him. Are you going, sir?”
”I must go,” replied Arthur, taking one of the thin hands. ”I will bring Charley in to-morrow.”
Jenkins pressed Arthur's hand between his. ”G.o.d bless you, Mr. Arthur,” he fervently said. ”May He be your friend for ever! May He render your dying bed happy, as He has rendered mine!” And Arthur turned away--never again to see Jenkins in life.
”Blessed are those servants, whom the Lord when He cometh shall find watching.”
As Jenkins was, that night, when the message came for him.
CHAPTER LX.
IN WHAT DOES IT LIE?
Had the clerk of the weather been favoured with an express letter containing a heavy bribe, a more lovely day could not have been secured than that one in January which witnessed the marriage of Constance Channing to the Rev. William Yorke.