CHAPTER VII
AT JACOB'S BEDSIDE
A week later William visited Jacob in hospital. He was nearing recovery, but now knew that he might be lame for the rest of his life. The sufferer felt indifferent; but he cherished minor grievances and grumbled to his friend.
"Only Auna ever comes to see me. Would you believe that? Not once has John Henry visited me, and only once, Avis—and her marriage, that I've agreed to, and the farm that I've given her and all!" he said.
"Young lovers be selfish toads," explained William; "think nothing of it. I believe Avis will prove a better daughter after marriage than before. She's the sort will get sweeter with ripeness. For John Henry there's no excuse. I'll talk to him some day and open his eyes. But the great truth is that their amazing grandmother be more to your children than their own parents. A mystery, Jacob; but the ways of blood are always a mystery. The dead will come to live in their havage[[1]] and pass on the good and bad qualities alike. 'Tis a pity Providence don't look to it that only the good be handed down; because then the breed of men and women would be a lot better by now than they are; but all qualities are part and parcel, and even goodness often takes narrowness and coldness of heart along with it."
[[1]] Havage—offspring.
"Margery's heart was never cold."
"But her mother's—her mother's, Jacob! I may tell you now that I carried out a little plot in that quarter and went to see Mrs. Huxam on a Sabbath. I had in my mind that at my great age and with my well-known good character, I might influence her; because in a few other directions I've talked round high-minded people and showed 'em that, as things are, nought could be hopefuller than for you and your wife to come together again."
"You meant well as you always do, Billy."
"An Old Testament fashion of woman is your mother-in-law. The faith that would move mountains. It's a good thing that she hasn't got much power, for she'd use it in a very uncomfortable fashion if she had. A great, mournful wonder in the land. She's like a sloe-bush, Jacob: the older she grows, the sharper her thorns and the poorer her fruit. I came away with my tail between my legs, I assure you. I was dust in the wind afore her."
"She'll never change."