"Why," answered John, "I say Natty Bell, as it be my belief as our dear lad's nob be full o' only one idee, and that idee is—a woman. Ah, and always will be and—there y'are, Natty Bell."
"For one thing," Barnabas went on more hastily than before, "I'm going to carry out the improvements you suggested years ago for the dear old 'Hound,' father—and you and I, Natty, might buy the farm next door, it's for sale I know, and go in for raising horses. You often talked of it in the old days. Come, what do you say?" he inquired, seeing that neither of his hearers spoke or moved, and wondering a little that his proposals should fall so flat. "What do you think, Natty Bell?"
"Well," answered Natty Bell, "I think, Barnabas, since you ax me so pointed-like, that you'd do much better in taking a wife and raising children."
"Ah—why not, lad?" nodded his father. "It be high time as you was thinking o' settling down, so—why not get married and ha' done with it?"
"Because," answered Barnabas, frowning at the fire, "I can love only one woman in this world, and she is altogether beyond my reach, and—never can be mine—never."
"Ha!" said Natty Bell getting up and staring down into the fire,
"Hum!"
'Since boxing is a manly game
And Britain's recreation,
By boxing we will raise our fame
'Bove every other nation.'
"Remember this, Barnabas, when a woman sets her mind on anything,
I've noticed as she generally manages to—get it, one way or t' other.
So I wouldn't be too sure, if I was you." Saying which, he nodded to
John, above his son's drooping head, winked, and went silently out
of the room.
Left alone with his son, John Barty sat a while staring up at the bell-mouthed blunderbuss very much as though he expected it to go off at any moment; at last, however, he rose also, hesitated, laid down his pipe upon the mantel-shelf, glanced down at Barnabas, glanced up at the blunderbuss again and finally spoke:
"And remember this, Barnabas, your—your—mother, God bless her sweet soul, was a great lady, but I married her, and I don't think as she ever—regretted it, lad. Ye see, Barnabas, when a good woman really loves a man—that man is the only man in the world for her, and—nothing else matters to her, because her love, being a good love, d' ye see—makes him—almost worthy. The love of a good woman is a sweet thing, lad, a wondrous thing, and may lift a man above all cares and sorrows and may draw him up—ah! as high as heaven at last, and—well—there y' are, Barnabas, dear lad."