I clasped my hands and hid my face in despair.Oh, the bitterness of heart with which I heard him say those simple words!
"You were very kind to her," said the calm, tearless man."In her name and for her sake, I thank you.""Oh, sir," I said, "why did you never write to her when you were in foreign parts?""I wrote often," he answered; "but each of my letters contained a remittance of money.Did Mary tell you she had a stepmother? If she did, you may guess why none of my letters were allowed to reach her.I now know that this woman robbed my sister.Has she lied in telling me that she was never informed of Mary's place of abode?"I remembered that Mary had never communicated with her stepmother after the separation, and could therefore assure him that the woman had spoken the truth.
He paused for a moment after that, and sighed.Then he took out a pocket-book, and said:
"I have already arranged for the payment of any legal expenses that may have been incurred by the trial, but I have still to reimburse you for the funeral charges which you so generously defrayed.Excuse my speaking bluntly on this subject; I am accustomed to look on all matters where money is concerned purely as matters of business."I saw that he was taking several bank-notes out of the pocket-book, and stopped him.
"I will gratefully receive back the little money I actually paid, sir, because I am not well off, and it would be an ungracious act of pride in me to refuse it from you," I said; "but I see you handling bank-notes, any one of which is far beyond the amount you have to repay me.Pray put them back, sir.What I did for your poor lost sister I did from my love and fondness for her.
You have thanked me for that, and your thanks are all I can receive."He had hitherto concealed his feelings, but I saw them now begin to get the better of him.His eyes softened, and he took my hand and squeezed it hard.
"I beg your pardon," he said; "I beg your pardon, with all my heart."There was silence between us, for I was crying, and I believe, at heart, he was crying too.At last he dropped my hand, and seemed to change back, by an effort, to his former calmness.
"Is there no one belonging to you to whom I can be of service?"he asked."I see among the witnesses on the trial the name of a young man who appears to have assisted you in the inquiries which led to the prisoner's conviction.Is he a relation?""No, sir--at least, not now--but I hope--""What?"
"I hope that he may, one day, be the nearest and dearest relation to me that a woman can have." I said those words boldly, because I was afraid of his otherwise taking some wrong view of the connection between Robert and me "One day?" he repeated."One day may be a long time hence.""We are neither of us well off, sir," I said."One day means the day when we are a little richer than we are now.""Is the young man educated? Can he produce testimonials to his character? Oblige me by writing his name and address down on the back of that card."When I had obeyed, in a handwriting which I am afraid did me no credit, he took out another card and gave it to me.
"I shall leave England to-morrow," he said."There is nothing now to keep me in my own country.If you are ever in any difficulty or distress (which I pray God you may never be), apply to my London agent, whose address you have there."He stopped, and looked at me attentively, then took my hand again.
"Wher e is she buried?" he said, suddenly, in a quick whisper, turning his head away.
I told him, and added that we had made the grave as beautiful as we could with grass and flowers.I saw his lips whiten and tremble.
"God bless and reward you!" he said, and drew me toward him quickly and kissed my forehead.I was quite overcome, and sank down and hid my face on the table.When I looked up again he was gone.
* * * * * * *
June 25th, 1841.I write these lines on my wedding morning, when little more than a year has passed since Robert returned to England.
His salary was increased yesterday to one hundred and fifty pounds a year.If I only knew where Mr.Mallinson was, I would write and tell him of our present happiness.But for the situation which his kindness procured for Robert, we might still have been waiting vainly for the day that has now come.
I am to work at home for the future, and Sally is to help us in our new abode.If Mary could have lived to see this day! I am not ungrateful for my blessings; but oh, how I miss that sweet face on this morning of all others!
I got up to-day early enough to go alone to the grave, and to gather the nosegay that now lies before me from the flowers that grow round it.I shall put it in my bosom when Robert comes to fetch me to the church.Mary would have been my bridesmaid if she had lived; and I can't forget Mary, even on my wedding-day....
THE NIGHT.
THE last words of the last story fell low and trembling from Owen's lips.He waited for a moment while Jessie dried the tears which Anne Rodway's simple diary had drawn from her warm young heart, then closed the manuscript, and taking her hand patted it in his gentle, fatherly way.
"You will be glad to hear, my love," he said, "that I can speak from personal experience of Anne Rodway's happiness.She came to live in my parish soon after the trial at which she appeared as chief witness, and I was the clergyman who married her.Months before that I knew her story, and had read those portions of her diary which you have just heard.When I made her my little present on her wedding day, and when she gratefully entreated me to tell her what she could do for me in return, I asked for a copy of her diary to keep among the papers that I treasured most.