“I came to you, Adam Olliver, because I know that you are a good man, that your influence with God and with good men is great, that you are Mr. Blyth’s trusted friend, and because I want you to be a trusted friend of mine.”
“God bless yo’, sir. I isn’t mitch use, but ah’ll deea t’ best ah can fo’ yo’, wi’ all mi’ ’art.”
“Thank you! The case is just here. My son Philip—(“God bless ’im,” said Adam)—loves Lucy Blyth—(“God bless ’er,” said Adam)—with all the strength of his nature. I believe that his love and his life are bound up together. As you know, I strongly opposed it, as also did her father. Both the young people, with a filial devotion beyond all praise—(“God bless ’em,” said Adam)—submitted to our decision. Since then, I and mine have been in the furnace. My son has been at the door of death, and my life has been shadowed by the heaviest cloud that ever darkened a human heart. My life was saved from the hand of a ruffian, my boy was brought from the brink of the grave, and I was brought back to my Bible and my Saviour—(“Halleluia!” said Adam)—by the instrumentality of Lucy Blyth. All I have to-day of trust in Christ, and peace of mind and hope of heaven, I owe to these two young people—(“Glory be te God!” said Adam, while sympathetic tears were coursing down his cheeks). Do you wonder, Adam Olliver, that all my opposition died away? Do you wonder that the great desire of my heart is to see these two man and wife? I gave my son permission to ask for her at her father’s hands. He refused, and my son came back to me with no light in his eye, and I cannot bear to see my boy breaking his heart over an impossible love. Be my friend, and gain from him the consent he will not give to me. Tell him that before God and man it is right that these two, so strangely and mysteriously brought together, should be one in life and death, one to labour for Jesus and His cause; one to be a blessing to Waverdale, and good stewards for God when I am dead and gone!”
“Nathan Blyth!” said Adam, “noo’s the tahme ’at we’ve been axin’ for. Yah wod frae you will mak’ three ’arts ’appy, will pleease God, an’ fill all Nestleton wi’ joy! Ah deean’t think ’at you’ve mitch doot ye’rsen, bud if yo’ hev, just let ma’ remind yo’ ’at Lucy owt te hev a mind ov ’er aun, an’ ’at yo’ owt te lissen te what she hez te say.”
In all his life Nathan Blyth had never been so moved. His independent spirit, his conviction of duty wrestled with his tenderness of heart, while the question forced itself upon him as to whether his convictions were of God. His cool judgment was at war with the impulses of his soul. But Adam’s last idea had laid abiding hold upon him. What will Lucy say? After all, her’s was the weightiest voice; beyond a certain point, he had no right to force her obedience, or be the arbiter of her destiny, or bind an adamantine chain around her life. He had done his duty with an honest conscience; now he was compelled to own that he himself was wavering, that Providence seemed to be on the other side, and so standing up before the anxious squire, whose humility was something wonderful to see, he said,—
“Squire Fuller, I yield. I’ve done all I can to hinder it, but I dare not further withhold my consent. My judgment does not approve, but it may be misguided and unsound, and I have never known Adam Olliver at fault; he lives too near to God for that. The matter rests with Lucy, and no influence of mine shall be exerted to hinder her from deciding according to the dictates of her conscience and the wishes of her heart.”
“Thank you for that, Nathan Blyth. I have as much confidence in her as you have,” said Squire Fuller. “I cannot ask you for more, and may God guide us all aright.”
“He will,” said Adam Olliver, “an’ as seear as ah’s a livin’ man, Lucy Blyth’s ‘Yis’ or ‘No’ ’ll be gi’en be’ t’ grace o’ God. Squire Fuller, ah’ve neea desire te see fooaks get oot o’ their station i’ life, bud t’ truth is, Lucy Blyth isn’t in hors, an’s called be’ t’ Providence o’ God te cum up higher.”
“I believe you are right, good old man,” said Mr. Fuller, half beside himself with joy, “and if ever ‘marriages were made in heaven,’ it will be the case when that charming girl becomes the bride of my noble-hearted son!”
