The Love That Prevailed

by Frank Frankfort Moore

An absurdity, was it?

Well, perhaps—but, after all, should he not be doing well in asking Mr. Hartwell what had been in his mind when he had made use of that phrase?

Mr. Hartwell had undoubtedly something in his mind, and he was a level-headed man who had accustomed himself to look at matters without prejudice and to pronounce an opinion based on his common sense. It might be that he could see some grave reason why he, Wesley, should dismiss that young woman forever from his thoughts—forever from his heart.

But, of course, he reserved to himself the right to consider all that Mr. Hartwell might say on this matter, and—if he thought it right—to exercise his privilege of veto in regard to his conclusions. He was not prepared to accept the judgment of Mr. Hartwell without reserve.

Following this line of thought, he quickly saw that whatever Mr. Hartwell might have to say, and however his conclusions might be put aside, it would be necessary for him, Wesley, to acquaint all those men who were associated with him in his work with his intention of marrying a certain young woman. There were his associates in London, in Bristol, in Bath, and above all there was his brother Charles. Would they be disposed to think that such a union would be to the advantage or to the detriment of the work to which they were all devoted?

The moment he thought of his brother he knew what he might expect. Up to that moment it had really never occurred to him that any objection that might not reasonably be overruled, could be offered to his marrying Nelly Polwhele. But so soon as he asked himself what his brother would say when made aware of his intention, he perceived how it was conceivable that his other friends might agree with Mr. Hartwell. For himself, he had become impressed from the first with some of those qualities on the part of Nelly Polwhele which, he was convinced, made her worthy of being loved by the most fastidious of men. He had long ago forgotten that she was only the daughter of a fisherman, and that she owed her refinement of speech to the patronage of the Squire's daughters whose maid she had been.

But what would his brother say when informed that it was his desire to marry a young woman who had been a lady's maid? Would not his brother be right to assume that such a union would be detrimental to the progress of the work in which they were engaged? Had they not often talked together deploring how so many of their brethren in the Church had brought contempt upon their order through their loss of self-respect in marrying whomsoever their dissolute patrons had ordered them to marry? What respect could anyone have for his lordship's chaplain who was content to sit at the side table at meals and in an emergency discharge the duties of a butler, and comply without hesitation to his lordship's command to marry her ladyship's maid, or, indeed, any one of the servants whom it was found desirable to have married?

The thing was done every day; that was what made it so deplorable, he and his brother had agreed; and in consequence day by day the influence of the clergy was declining. Was he then prepared to jeopardise the work to which he had set his hand by such a union as he was contemplating?

He sprang to his feet from where he had been sitting by the window.

“Heaven forgive me for having so base a thought!” he cried. “Heaven forgive me for being so base as to class the one whom I love with such creatures as his patron orders his chaplain to marry! She is a good and innocent child, and if she will come to me I shall feel honoured. I shall prove to all the world that a woman, though lowly-born, may yet be a true helpmeet for such as I. She will aid me in my labours, not impede them. I know now that I love her. I know now that she will be a blessing to me. I love her, and I pray that I may ever love her truly and honestly.”