John Tincroft, bachelor and benedict

by George E. Sargent

For he and Walter, without giving notice of their intention, had travelled straight from Tincroft House to London by the Trotbury coach; and thence on and on by the old Tally-ho, not yet discarded, though the railway era had commenced, till they reached the little town where, so many years ago, John had alighted from the same public conveyance to make his first entrance on enchanted ground.

In the best inn's best room they had rested awhile and refreshed themselves after the fatigues of the journey, and then had taken a post-chaise to convey them to their destination. This last mentioned time-honoured vehicle was now deposited in the stable-yard of the White Hart, formerly so well-known to, and acquainted with, poor Mark Wilson; while its pair of hacks were munching corn in the stable, and the yellow jacketed, many-buttoned, and jack-booted postillion was partaking of creature comforts in the taproom, and awaiting further orders.

For John had had forethought enough to retain for Walter and himself a way of retreat, supposing the doors both of Low Beech and the Manor House should be respectively closed against them.

"I have no doubt Mr. Richard will make me welcome, though, for an hour or two, at all events," thought John, as he stole away; "and then I'll come back and see what else is to be done."

Revolving these thoughts in his mind, John walked on, not sorry, perhaps, to find himself alone amid the scenes which, so many years before, were pregnant with such important consequences to himself, and not to himself alone. He could think of these things calmly now—more calmly, and thankfully too, perhaps, than he could have thought them over, say a year ago.

For, after all, his infatuation and folly of that back-dated period had been so overruled as to have turned out—well, to say the least of it—better than might have been expected, and much better than he had deserved.

He himself had not been unhappy in his married life—in any part of it, except when, now and then, it had occurred to him that poor Sarah would have done better in many another position than that of mistress of Tincroft House. But now this feeling was removed. It had taken a long time to do; but he had hoped on and hoped ever, and he had won his wife's love at last; not her respect and reverence, for these he had always had, but her right down, real hearty affection. He was as sure of this now as he was of his own existence. And with this new-found affection had come such a brightening up of the whole moral atmosphere surrounding his married life that he could afford to smile at the folly of his young days at High Beech Farm and thereanent. And oh, how thankful he felt—how increasingly thankful—for his determination then, that though he had played the fool, he would not act the knave!

He could think calmly, and quietly too, of those past scenes of his history, even so far as his friend (friend now, but once self-constituted rival) Walter Wilson was concerned. For he had had more than one long and confidential conference with Walter respecting those past passages in their several histories which had led to such important results.

And the full persuasion on the minds of both, was that Walter had been happier in his whole life than he might have been, had the course of his first love run ever so smoothly. He had, at any rate, prospered in the world, though to what extent John was ignorant; he had lived the kind of life that best suited him; and he had been happy in a marriage union which had also and above all, as John hoped, introduced him to a higher and more enduring happiness than anything on earth can impart. True, he had suffered bereavement, but this was a contingency from which no condition in life is exempt; and he had come home in ill-health, perhaps to die; but John did not think this event was near at hand, because he was determined not to believe it.

"Doctors are as often wrong as right," quoth he to himself, "and there is life and health and comfort in store for Walter Wilson yet. He has picked up famously since he has been in England, and we shall bring him round again, no fear, God helping us," said he, joyfully.