For some time, however, Nat avoided all painful subjects. The two wandered down to the Embankment, and, going into the gardens, sat on one of the benches. They sat close together, and Nat’s brown hand held Jill’s under the gay apron which she still wore. A good many people passed them, and looked at them, and murmured to one another that this silly young pair were in a fool’s paradise, and that they’d wish themselves out of it fast enough one day. It seemed to Jill afterwards, however, that they were all alone that evening, that no one looked at them as they sat on the bench together, that they had the gardens to themselves.
The sunset passed, and the stars shone in the dark blue of the sky, and Jill looked up at them and thought that, after all, it must be very easy to be good. She had forgotten her pain and anxiety for the present; the influence of the summer night was surrounding her, and the still more potent influence of young love was sending all fears to sleep.
“Nat,” she said suddenly, “it seems as if the folks must be right.”
“Wot folks, Jill?”
“Them folks as says there’s a God, Nat, and that He lives up there. Seems to me that there must be a God, and that He’s beautiful. I don’t believe we could love each other as we do, but for God.”
“Maybe,” said Nat. “I han’t thought much about it. I were allers too busy. Ef He made you love me, Jill, I’ll go in for believing in Him; that’s sartin. But, oh! my word, my word, there’s a sight of misery in the world!”
“That’s the devil’s doing,” said Jill in a frightened whisper. “I allers put the misery to the devil. But don’t let us think on it to-night, Nat. Don’t let’s think on one miserable thing this beautiful night. Let’s put all the pain out of sight. It’s there for sure; but let’s put it out of sight. Do, Nat; do, dear, darling Nat!”
“Why, my little love, you’re all of a tremble. Take my ’and, and let’s walk about a bit. We won’t talk of miserable things, Jill—at least not yet awhile. Come out and look at the moon shining on the river. Ain’t it prime? And how the water ripples. Why, you’re shivering still, Jill. Ain’t yer well?”
“Oh, yes, Nat; I’m as well as a gel can be.”
“Let’s walk up and down then. I have everything planned for our wedding. I thought, maybe, we’d take a third-class fare down to Yarmouth or somewhere, and have a look at the real sea. I have an aunt at Yarmouth, a Mrs Potter, and she’d give us a shake-down for nothink, I make sure. Wot does yer say, Jill?”