Finally the Rivers’ party announced their intention of going to the Isle of Wight as soon as Meta had come of age; and the council of Cocksmoor, meeting at tea at Dr. May’s house, decided that the foundation stone of the church should be laid on the day after her birthday, when there would be a gathering of the whole family, as Margaret wished. Dr. Spencer had worked incredibly hard to bring it forward, and Margaret’s sweet smiles, and liquid eyes, expressed how personally thankful she felt.
“What a blessing this church has been to that poor girl,” said Dr. Spencer, as he left the house with Mr. Wilmot. “How it beguiles her out of her grief! I am glad she has the pleasure of the foundation; I doubt if she will see the consecration.”
“Indeed!” said Mr. Wilmot, shocked. “Was that attack so serious?”
“That recumbent position and want of exercise were certain to produce organic disease, and suspense and sorrow have hastened it. The death of Mrs. Rivers’s poor child was the blow that called it into activity, and, if it last more than a year, I shall be surprised.”
“For such as she is, one cannot presume to wish, but her father—is he aware of this?”
“He knows there is extensive damage; I think he does not open his eyes to the result, but he will bear it. Never was there a man to whom it came so naturally to live like the fowls of the air, or the lilies of the field, as it does to dear Dick May,” said Dr. Spencer, his voice faltering.
“There is a strength of faith and love in him that carries him through all,” said Mr. Wilmot. “His childlike nature seems to have the trustfulness that is, in itself, consolation. You said how Cocksmoor had been blessed to Margaret—I think it is the same with them all—not only Ethel and Richard, who have been immediately concerned; but that one object has been a centre and aim to elevate the whole family, and give force and unity to their efforts. Even the good doctor, much as I always looked up to him—much good as he did me in my young days—I must confess that he was sometimes very provoking.”
“If you had tried to be his keeper at Cambridge, you might say so!” rejoined Dr. Spencer.
“He is so much less impetuous—more consistent—less desultory; I dare say you understand me,” said Mr. Wilmot. “His good qualities do not entangle one another as they used to do.”
“Exactly so. He was far more than I looked for when I came home, though I might have guessed that such a disposition, backed by such principles and such—could not but shake off all the dross.”