CHAPTER VI.
SIR JOHN'S PROPOSAL.
A month passed, and still old Walters was a visitor at the lodge. Still he might be seen sitting on fine days under a wide-spreading oak-tree in the park, sometimes leaning forward with his chin resting on his stick, at others reading his large Bible as it lay upon his knees. Not unfrequently Sir John might be observed sitting by his side, for he delighted in his remarks, so full of simple piety and humility, and consequently of instruction to himself. The high-born baronet was not above being edified by the conversation of the aged pilgrim, whose mind seemed ripening fast for the world which could not be far distant from him. But Walters began to speak in earnest of returning to London. His feelings were sensitive and delicate, and though urged to remain longer, he would not take advantage of the kindness that proposed it. He said he had been permitted to spend a month of happiness amidst God's beautiful country works with his dear boy Dick, but now the time was come for him to return to his room and his old ways in London.
"And perhaps you feel more at home there than in any other place," said Sir John one morning, when he had been talking to him on his favourite bench under the oak-tree. "You have lived there so many years that this country life may seem irksome to you after the long habit of the other."
"Nay," replied he, "London will seem very lonely after such a month as I have spent here in my boy's company, with everybody showing me such kindness. And I shall miss the trees and the flowers, and the songs of the birds. No, Sir John, I could find it in my heart to wish I could end my days in the country, but God has willed it otherwise, and given me a home I do not deserve, although it is amongst the crowd and bustle and noise. Besides, why did I say I should be lonely? Shall I not have Him"—and he uncovered his head, as was his wont, at the great name—"who died for me, and loves me, and will never leave me nor forsake me?"
Sir John was silent for a few moments; then he spoke to him on a subject he had been turning over in his mind for some days. "You are right, my worthy friend," he said; "no place can be lonely to you, and God will assuredly watch over you to the end. But suppose He were to point out that His way of doing so, as far as this world is concerned, would be to give you a home in the country, where you would be cared for in health and in sickness, and where the remainder of your years would pass in quietness and repose, would you not be willing to follow His leading?"
"Assuredly, assuredly," replied Walters, not in the least seeing the drift of his remark. "But as such has not been His will, I thank Him gratefully for my little room in town."
"Now listen to me, my friend," said the baronet. "It seems to me that just as it was put into my heart to take Dick from the scenes of sin and temptation he was exposed to in Roan's Court, so now it is given me to have the privilege of making your last years far more comfortable than they would be in your lodging in town. The proposal I wish to make to you is this: I have a cottage in the village which I have given for her life to an attached faithful old servant, who lives there with her niece. It is larger than she requires, and she says she could quite well spare the little parlour and the bedroom over it, and that she would be very glad to have you as a lodger, and she and her niece would do their best to make you comfortable. I will take all the arrangements for you on myself, so you will only have to return to London to pack up your things and bid your present landlady good-bye, and then come back again to your new country home, where you may see Dick every day."
Walters was silent. He could not speak. He took in all Sir John's plan for him, and the lonely old man's heart leaped at the thought of living near the child of his love. At length he rose, and with a voice quivering with emotion, said—
"I thank you, I do indeed thank you, Sir John. It seems too much, too much happiness for such an one as I am. But my whole life has been filled with mercies, and this may be going to be the crowning one. May I think over it? I am too old to be able all at once to decide. When I have been alone awhile I can better answer you."
"Take as long as you like to think it over," replied Sir John—"there is no hurry whatever." Then kindly shaking hands with him, he went away, for he saw that Walters was a good deal overcome. Yet he knew that though he left him, he would not be alone, but that he would seek the counsel and direction of Him whom he had for so long made his dearest Friend.