Affections which if put to the proof are kind;
And piety towards God.”
Wordsworth.
IT will be necessary to retrace our steps a little, and turn our attention to Lucy Blyth and the heir of the House of Waverdale. Lucy’s hasty and unexpected departure from Waverdale Hall and Squire Fuller’s compulsory absence on county business, had prevented that grateful recipient of her services and hearty admirer of her character from rendering her at once the thanks to which she was entitled, and from bestowing on her such reward as was in any sense commensurate with the exceeding value of the good work she had wrought. Eventually he wrote her a letter full of unstinted gratitude, and stated therein that he should count it an honour and a privilege to oblige her in any way that was in his power. He avowed that she had saved his son’s life from the fever, and his own from the burglar; that she had been the means of bringing to him thoughts and feelings concerning religion to which he had long been a stranger; and that, though he felt such services were priceless and beyond compensation, he entreated her to test his sincerity and regard in any way she chose. The answer he received was couched as follows:—
“Dear Sir,—God has enabled me to do my duty under very trying circumstances. That duty would have been more willingly performed for the poorest family in Nestleton. Your thanks, and the sense of having done what was right, fully repay me. I am thankful to God that Master Philip is spared to you, and if my short stay at Waverdale Hall has enabled me in any way to alter your views and feelings about religion, I am thankful all the more. As you so earnestly press me to receive some acknowledgment at your hands, I will not refuse so generous an offer. If you will give a plot of ground on which to build a Methodist chapel so that the Methodists of Nestleton may be able to worship God in comfort under their own vine and fig-tree, you will not only confer the greatest favour upon me, but will win the lasting gratitude of a poor and worthy people, who will richly repay you in their prayers for your happiness and prosperity.
“I remain,
“Yours most respectfully,
“Lucy Blyth.”
This missive was placed by the butler in the hands of the squire as he sat in his customary chair by the library fire; his son and heir, now quite recovered from the trying ordeal through which he had passed, though still somewhat pale of countenance, sitting opposite. Mr. Fuller could not help smiling with satisfaction at Lucy’s unselfish response to his letter of inquiry, and at the admirable persistency with which she pleaded the cause of her people.
“Your correspondence amuses you, father,” said Philip, as he noted the smile on the old man’s face.
“Amuses me, you think, do you?” said the squire, assuming a serious air. “I wonder whether it will amuse you. Here’s a pretty effusion from your model young lady!”
“What, Lucy?” said Philip, with an honest blush and such a manifest interest, that it was not hard to see that our youthful lover was quite as much enchained to that young lady’s chariot wheels as ever; “May I ask what it is?”