Between Two Loves/16
CHAPTER XVI.
ONLY ONE LOVE.
"Her tremulous smiles; her glances' sweet recall
Of love.
*****
What sweeter than these things, except the thing
In lacking which all these would lose their sweet—
The confident heart's still fervor."
It was the day before Christmas, and the mills had been dismissed and closed at noon; but Ben Holden and Jonas Shuttleworth still lingered in the office, going over some papers that the elder man wished to have in complete order before the beginning of the year. Ben was an industrious, strict business man, but Shuttleworth's energy and precision almost wearied him.
"Dost ta niver get tired?" he asked, looking with a kind of wonder at the bright eyes and restless hands of his companion.
"I'm niver tired as long as I'm busy, Ben. After I gave up business, ten years ago, I used to be weary to death varry often; but since I hev been the 'Co.' of Burley's Mills I hevn't hed a tiresome minute."
"How's that?"
"Why, ta sees, if a man hes no brains but business brains he's lonesome without business, just as lonesome as a gambler without his cards. Surely to goodness thou isn't tired?"
"Not I. But at Christmas-time, when a man hes a home and a wife—"
"Oh, I see! It's thy wife what is pulling thee from t' mill. I didn't think thou would iver hev been such a fool about a woman."
"She is nobbut a child yet, ta sees."
"Child or not, she is thy master."
Ben laughed, and just then there was a ring at the outer gate.
"That is Jonathan's ring," he said. "I'd know it in a thousand. He always pulls t' bell as if ivery one was dead asleep but himsen." But as he was speaking, Ben was hastening to the gate, and in a few minutes the two men came back together holding each other by the hand, and laughing heartily. Jonas Shuttleworth heard them, and he pushed the papers into a drawer and locked them up carefully. Then he turned to meet his nephew, and though his manner was less effusive than Ben's, its genuine kindness was just as unmistakable.
"My word," he said, "but thou art improved!" and as Jonathan came into the brighter light the improvement was very evident. Travel and rest had done wonders for him; he looked indeed many years younger than he did when he left home.
"And how is t' squire and his wife, my grand-niece?" asked Shuttleworth.
"He is very near well, and he will return home as soon as t' cold weather is over. Eleanor and Aske, why, they are t' happiest couple I iver saw now. Ben," and he turned towards his friend, "Eleanor is mistress and master both, and as for Aske, either he doesn't know it, or else he likes it so well that he'd rather say nothing against it."
"It's varry like he knows it, Jonathan, and that he enjoys it; and I wouldn't wonder but what he's a deal better and happier man as things are now."
Jonathan looked at Ben and laughed.
"Why, Ben, thou hes changed thy views a bit. Now then, uncle, how is all with thee?"
"All is much better than might be, nephew, and as for t' mill, it is coming on finely. Thy 'Co.' hesn't been a bad partner, and thou will see that."
"I niver expected he would be. And what hes thou been doing, Ben?"
"I hev been getting married."
"What?"
"I hev been getting married."
"Get out wi' thee!"
"I say I hev been getting married."
"I say thou art joking."
"Nay, I'm none good at that business, I got me a wife varry soon after thou sold t' house to me."
"Niver?"
"Ay, I did that."
"Well, well, well; it beats all. Thee married?"
"For sure, why not? I didn't want to spoil on thy hands. Thou seemed afraid of it."
"But in such a hurry?"
"Ay, I know my own mind pretty well. It doesn't take me five or six years to do my courting. Happen I hev a more persuading way wi' me than thou hes."
"I can't get oover it. Thee married? Who iver did ta sort with? Ann Gibson?"
"Ann Gibson!" answered Ben, sarcastically. "I like t' best and bonniest o' iverything. If ta is thinking of besting me in a wife thou will hev to ride t' length and t' breadth of England to find one half so bonny, that's all."
"Thou art nobbut fooling me, Ben."
"Am I, though? Come home with me and hev a cup o' tea. I'm sure thou needs it, and Mr. Shuttleworth will come too, I'se warrant."
"Ay, I think we can't do a better thing, Jonathan. I go varry often wi' Ben; his missis makes a good cup, and it will do thee good, right off t' railway."
And as Jonathan wanted to see Sarah that night he thought it would be a very good thing to do. He could have his tea, wash his face and hands, and Sarah's house was not a quarter of an hour's walk from Ben's house. So the mill was locked, and the three men went leisurely up the road to Ben's home. Shuttleworth walking between Jonathan and Ben, and leaning upon them.
"What will thy missis say, Ben, at us coming without notice? Women don't like such ways?"
"My missis isn't like t' main of women in a deal of things. See how bright t' house looks, Jonathan. It is thy friend's house now."
"Ay, and it used to be Sykes's. I don't forget, Ben."
"I didn't think thou did. But it's good to remind one's self. Blessings are easy things to forget."
Ben's house did indeed look bright. In honor of Christmas there were wreaths of evergreens in all the windows, and lights behind them, and in the downstairs rooms the pleasant ruddy glow of fires, and when the servant opened the door there was a feeling of warmth and brightness, and a smell of delicacies in preparation that was positively exhilarating. And the parlor looked so cosy that Ben was quite proud of it; and he touched Nelly's rocking-chair in such a tender way that Jonathan could not but notice how pretty and home-like it looked, with her sewing laid across it, and her thimble and scissors, and spool of white thread.
In a few minutes there was a light footstep and Nelly came in, rosy with the heat of the kitchen, and with a little white apron on to shield her pretty brown merino dress. She put both her hands in Jonas Shuttleworth's, dropped a courtesy to Jonathan, and then went right to Ben, and he took her proudly to his heart and kissed her.
"Let's hev a cup o' tea, misses," he said fondly; and she laughed, and answered, "Why, here it comes, Ben; and lots of spice-bread and Yorkshire pie"—and Jonathan could not but wonder at the dainty little woman, and look at Ben in such an astonished way that Ben, catching such a look, burst out laughing at it. And with this and that they had the merriest kind of meal, old Jonas Shuttleworth seeming to enjoy it better than anyone.
Afterwards Jonathan went up-stairs to bathe his face and hands, and Ben followed him. "Thou art going to see Sarah Benson, I'll warrant?"
"Thou hes hit t' truth, Ben. I shall not be happy till I hev seen her, so there's no use in going home till I'm satisfied."
"Well, Jonathan, I advise thee to get married as fast as iver ta can. I wonder thou hes hed so little human nature in thee as to put it off so long. A man doesn't know what happiness is till he gets a wife. I don't expect thou can iver be as happy as Nelly and me is, but if ta comes half-way near it thou will do middling well."
"Will ta be quiet? My word, but it takes a young cock to crow hard! What does thou know about heving a wife? The honey-moon isn't oover yet."
"It niver will be, Jonathan. Now what does ta think of my missis?"
"Why-a! I was astonished, I was that! She is a varry bonny little lass."
"And as obedient and innocent and loving as a child."
"I thought t' obedience was mainly on thy side. She seemed to me to give alt t' orders, and it appeared like as if it was thy place to obey them."
"Bless thee! she knows no better. She doesn't think they are orders, not she."
"Hes ta seen Sarah lately?"
"I saw her to-day. She was going to t' chapel to dress it up a bit. It was always Sarah's work, and there's few could do it like her."
"Was she looking well?"
"Uncommon well. Now, I'll tell thee some rare good news. Joyce and all t' childer have gone to America."
"Now then! Art ta sure?"
"Quite sure. Steve sent them twenty pounds, they hed it up to a hundred pounds in t' village, and Joyce sold t' furniture, and Sarah told me that Steve hed a comfortable home for them in New York."
"How did they go?"
"Why, in t' same vessel Steve sailed in, Sarah went to Liverpool with them, if she hedn't, I don't think they'd iver hev got there. She had iverything to do at t' last, but she was thet happy she ntver got tired, although Joyce would tire an angel out o' heaven with her whimwhams and flurries and worritin' ways."
"Well, this is good news, Ben! I'm glad it came to me from thy lips, old friend. And I'm right glad thou art so happy thysen. Now I'm going to see Sarah, and if t' carriage comes, don't let Uncle Shuttleworth wait for me. I'll happen to be a bit late."
"Ay, I think it's likely. Will ta stay here all night?"
"Nay, I won't; I'll walk home. When I hev hed a talk wi' Sarah I won't mind t' walk one bit Is she at t' old cottage yet?"
"Ay, she is. She told me she would bide until t' new-year."
In fact, Sarah had gone back to her old home at the beginning of Joyce's troubles, and after bidding Steve and his family good-by in Liverpool, she returned to the room she had occupied in it. For the cottage had a certain place in her heart; her earliest and tenderest memories were linked with its small rooms, and she wished to leave them as spotless as lime and soap and labor could make them.
Two days she spent in this work, but the day before Christmas she had given for many a year to decorating the chapel for the festival. Last Christmas she had been in too great poverty and anxiety to undertake it, and therefore she was the more eager to make up this year what had been lacking of her service. So from morning to night she was busy in the chapel, and she was just arranging the last cluster of berries when she heard some one call her.
"Sarah!"
The voice was a strong, cheery one, and her soul knew its faintest echo. She made no pretence of not hearing it, of not knowing it, but answered at once, "I am here, master."
She was standing by the communion rail when he joined her, and he said, "Thou art just where I want thee to be, my dear, dear lass. Sarah, I hev t' license in my pocket, and t' marriage-ring, too, and I saw t' preacher as I came here, and he says he'll wed us to-morrow morning. Will ta come home to-morrow?"
"My dear lad, now I'll do whativer thou wants me to do. I hev no duty to put before my love for thee now."
Then they sat down together in Jonathan's pew; at last, at last, each heart able to give perfect love and perfect confidence to the other.
"And thou art all mine now, Sarah?"
"I am all thine, Jonathan. My heart hes ached for many a year between Steve and thee, but I hev done my last duty to Steve. He needs me no more, thank God! and now I can heartily come to thee. There is no other love between me and thee now."
And Jonathan said, "Thank God!" But his voice was very low, and he could hardly speak for emotion, and for a few moments both were silent for very happiness.
Then Sarah told all about Steve, and Jonathan spoke of the last Christmas-eve, and of what peace and prosperity had followed the good deed done on it. And they sat so long that the chapel-keeper looked in disapprovingly several times, but at last went home happy with a sovereign in his pocket, and so much gratitude to Jonathan in his heart than he fully resolved not to tell his wife what he suspected, a resolution that, it is needless to say, he broke within an hour.
The next morning there was the usual Christmas service in the chapel, and, after it, Jonathan and his uncle, Jonas Shuttleworth, Ben Holden and his wife, and the preacher's wife and Sarah Benson, came quietly up to the communion rails. The movement was absolutely unexpected, but there was a profound interest and curiosity, and no one in the congregation moved until Jonathan, radiant with joy, turned to them with his wife upon his arm.
Then they crowded round him with their good wishes and their congratulations, and so, amid the smiles and blessings of all who knew them, he put Sarah into his carriage and drove her away to his home, the happiest man in England that Christmas-day.