CHAPTER XXV
John Wesley sat alone in the room, thinking his thoughts. They were not unhappy, though tinged with a certain mournfulness at times. The mournful tinge was due to the reflection that once more he must reconcile himself to live alone in the world. For a brief space he had had a hope that it might be given to him to share the homely joys of his fellow-men. He now saw that it was not to be; and he bowed his head to the decree of the Will which he knew could not err.
Alone? How could such a reflection have come to him? How could he who sought to walk through the world with the Divine companionship of the One to whom he trusted to guide his steps aright feel lonely or alone?
This was the thought that upheld him now. He could feel the hand that he knew was ever stretched out to him. He touched it now as he had touched it before, and he heard the voice that said:
“I have called ye friends.”
He was happy—as happy as the true man should be who knows that the woman whom he loves is going to be made happy. He now perceived that everything had been ordered for the best, this best being the ultimate happiness of the woman whom he loved. He now saw that although he might strive to bring happiness to her, he might never succeed in doing so. Even if she had loved him her quick intelligence could not fail to whisper to her what the people around them would be saying out loud—that John Wesley had married the daughter of a humble fisherman of Cornwall, and that that was no match for him to make. She would hear it said that John Wesley, who was ever anxious for the dignity of the Church to be maintained, had shown himself to be on the level with my lord's greasy, sottish chaplain, who had showed himself ready to marry my lady's maid when commanded to do so by his master, when circumstances had made such an act desirable.
Would such a young woman as Nelly Polwhele be happy when now and again she should hear these whispers and the consciousness was forced upon her that John Wesley was believed to have made a fool of himself?
But even to assume what her thoughts would be was to assume that she had loved him, and this she had never done. He was convinced that she had never ceased to love the man to whom she had given her promise. To be sure, she had told him when they had been together on the cliffs that someone else had come into her life. But that he believed to be only a passing fancy of hers. It was impossible that such a young woman, having given her promise to so fine a fellow as Captain Snowdon, should allow his place in her heart to be taken by anyone else.
He wondered if the Squire had a son as well as daughters. Nelly had talked to him often enough about the young ladies, but not a word had she breathed about a young gentleman. If there was a son, would it be beyond the limits of experience that this village girl should be captivated by his manners—was it beyond the limits of experience that the young man might have been fascinated by the beauty of the girl and so have talked to her as such young men so often did, in a strain of flattery that flattered the poor things so that they were led to hope that an offer of marriage was approaching?
He resolved to make enquiry on this point from Nelly herself should she still maintain that her affection had changed. But meantime——