“Well, well,” said Philip, with a smile, “you need be under no concern of that kind, for, on the honour of a gentleman, and the faith of a Christian, I mean all that I have said.”
“Prayse the Lord!” said Adam. “As for t’ honour ov a gentleman, sum gentlemen hae queer nooations aboot that, an’ ah wadn’t trust ’em as far as ah could fling ’em on t’ strength on’t. Bud t’ faith ov a Christian’s anuther thing, an’ if yo’ hae that it’ll keep beeath you an’ hor an’ ivveryboddy else oot o’ harm’s way. The blood ov Jesus Christ cleansis frae all sin, an’ ah pray ’at yo’ may knoa it an’ feel it all t’ days o’ yer life. Excuse mah for makkin’ sae free wi’ yo’, sor,” said Adam, again touching his time-worn hat, “bud you’ve teean a looad off my heart as big as Kesterton Hill.”
With mutual “Good-mornings” they separated; the one to ply his slashing-knife on Farmer Houston’s quick-wood, the other to pursue his homeward way to Waverdale Hall, with a new subject for study and new material for thought.
Leaving Adam Olliver to jog along the grassy lane on the back of patient and unwitting Balaam, let us accompany the handsome scion of the house of Fuller, and listen to his communings, stirred as he was by his interview with Lucy’s rustic friend and champion.
“She loves me,” was his first thought; “to me she would never own it. But Adam Olliver knows it, and misreads my heart as much as one man can misread another’s. Lucy, my darling, for love of you I would barter Waverdale Hall without a sigh; I would harden my hands at the anvil, and hammer and sing as merrily as Blithe Natty, if you might brighten my cottage home! What shall I do? My proud and stately father will never permit such an unequal match but, with all his pride, he loves me dearly, and I cannot, will not, be disloyal to so great a love, and disobey his will.”
He heaved a sigh from the depths of his perplexed and anxious spirit; then his mind reverted to Adam Olliver’s words, “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” And again the refrain heard in the cottage service rung in his ears,—
“To you is it nothing that Jesus should die?”
“What does it mean? I would give the world to know and feel that cleansing power, to know and feel that Jesus died for me.”
Slowly, but definitely and surely, the young patrician was being led by Providence and Grace to the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world.
Nor were the cogitations of the grand old hedger less interesting. His shrewd, observant mind had noted the clear, transparent character of the youthful squire, had been struck with the honest ring of his manly disclaimer, and lapsing into his old habit of making Balaam his confidant, he said,—