Jill: A Flower Girl

by L. T. Meade

At last he had finished his list of commissions, and he stood still for a minute to consider what he should do. He was not going to market to-morrow, so it was not necessary for him to return home early. It had been his intention to go back to the little cottage at Newbridge, in order to get it more completely ready for the sweet bride who was to enter it on the morrow. His flowers wanted extra watering and extra care in order to greet that one brilliant living blossom who was going to take root and settle down in their midst. Silas thought of encircling the porch of the cottage with a wreath of roses, of decking the table with which the wedding-feast would be spread with flowers in many strange and lovely devices; but the wish to do any of these things had now suddenly left him. He determined not to go home at present. He had a dim sort of consciousness that his pain would be much greater at home even than it was here.

Standing at the shady side of the street, leaning up against the door of a restaurant, he tried to bring his brain to think connectedly of Mrs Robinson’s words. He recalled them with an effort, and found that they amounted to the fact that Jill loved another man; that she had engaged herself to him before she engaged herself to Silas; that whereas Silas was old and ugly, Jill’s other lover was young, and comely to behold. There was no doubt whatever that something was troubling Jill. The facts were but too patent—she had some secret motive in consenting to wed Silas, but her heart was still with Nat.

Having brought himself to face this fact, Silas thought carefully over Jill’s possible motives. He remembered her great anxiety to borrow five pounds from him. He recalled, with a hot flush of misery, the startled look on her face when he first told her of the conditions on which he would give her the money. He remembered then her journey into Kent, her readiness to comply with his request, and her painful anxiety to have the money to take away with her, and to have no questions asked.

“I yielded at the time,” thought Silas, “but I’m blessed ef I won’t get at the bottom o’ this thing afore the day’s out. I’ll go and see Jill, and question her. We ain’t wedded yet, and I’ll know the truth afore we’re made man and wife.”

Having made up his mind, Silas acted with promptitude. He was not long in reaching Howard’s Buildings. He ran swiftly up the stairs, and knocked at Jill’s door. She was not expecting to see him again until they met the next day in Kent. There was a possibility that she might be out, but he must take his chance of that. He knocked with his knuckles on the panel of the door and waited. Partly to his relief, partly to add to his torture, he heard a light step within, and Jill came and opened the door. She started, and flushed slightly, when she saw him. There was a certain amount of pleasure in her face. She had evidently learned to lean upon Silas, to appreciate much that was in him.

“I’d ha’ thought a few hours back as that look meant the tender dawning o’ love,” thought the man, “but I know better now.”

“Come in, Silas,” said Jill, speaking in that gentle tone which she always used when addressing him. “I wor packing my few bits o’ duds, and I’m sorry the place is in a mess; but come in and set down, do.” Silas entered, and closed the door behind him. He did not intend to say anything about Mrs Robinson. He had no notion of betraying the secret which had come to him at present. Still, the heaviness of his heart was shown by his absence of compliment, by his indifference to the disordered condition of the room. He sat heavily down on the first chair he came to, and laid a big hand on each knee.

“I ha’ come to have a little talk with yer, Jill,” he said.

“Yes, Silas, of course. Is anything the matter, dear Silas?”

“No, my gel, there’s nought the matter. Only somehow, when a man takes the sort of step I’m about to take—when a man takes a young gel to his ’eart, and swears afore the Lord God Almighty to love her and cherish her, and cling only to her—why, ef he’s a man whose word is worth any think, he feels kind o’ solemn, Jill.”