“And look at the cupboards and the nails.”
“And, oh, what a lovely cooking-stove! If ever a man deserved to be sent straight to heaven the master does!” Mr. Knight happened to hear this last remark and was much amused by it.
“But I don’t want to be sent to heaven yet,” he said. “I want to see how you get on in your new homes, and to take care that you are able to earn something to put in the lovely stove.”
“Law, yes, sir. I hopes you’ll live to be a ’undered, and so we does all; but we’ve all got to die sometime, you know, and you wouldn’t object to heaven at last, I suppose.”
There were two days for the people to enjoy before work commenced on Monday; and the men and women had time to visit each other, and offer congratulations, especially in regard to the new factories in which they were to work. There was no heart of them all so full of joy and gratitude as that of Arthur Knight; but when Sunday morning dawned over the little place, he felt, as never before, the great responsibility which rested upon him. That which he had been able to do for his people had been done for humanity’s sake; but behind that motive was another and a stronger one; and he knew, if no one else did, that it was all for Christ’s sake. He was extremely anxious now that the people should come to understand that, and should give the credit of all that was good in his scheme, where it was due, to the Christianity which some of them despised, and only a few rightly apprehended.
They had been happily busy about their homes and in their gardens, and had visited their future work-places with a good deal of interest and curiosity, and they had swarmed into the Old House, and examined their treasures there with the greatest delight; but the church had not yet been open, excepting to a very few. It stood on the side of the hill, a conspicuous and beautiful object, bearing its name on its front in letters which might be read at a distance—
“OUR FATHER’S HOUSE,”
and the people knew that on the Sunday morning it was to be consecrated. Word had also been sent to every house that Mr. Knight asked, as a great favour to himself, that all the people—men, women, and children—would, for that one morning, at least, go to church. Many of them wished he had not; there was the inevitable question of clothes still to be considered, and the men especially declared that they had not the least idea “how to go on”; but good influences were brought to bear upon them, Hancourt and his wife especially putting it to them whether it was not worth while to endure even a little awkwardness rather than treat Mr. Knight with ingratitude and unkindness, and so, at length, consent was won all round.
It was an ideal morning. The sun lighted up the blue sea in the distance, and rested lovingly on sloping hills and green fields. A fresh breeze blew across the space, and fanned the faces of the people as they stood in little groups, each in their own doorway and garden. The men and women were so proud of their new possessions, and so glad in the new possibilities of their lives, that a touching tenderness, seldom seen among them, was everywhere visible. Women stood with their hands on the shoulders of their husbands and a strange light in their eyes, and men, usually so rough that the children crept out of their way, looked so kind because they were so happy, that the boys challenged them to a game and the girls lifted up their faces to be kissed.
And then the air was filled with exquisite music, for up the hills and through the valley came the sounds of the Sabbath bells. They had not rung before, and they came with a surprise to the people, who for a few minutes hushed their voices and listened in quiet pleasure. And then, for a little while, the homes were filled with the bustle of preparation, and soon the green hill was dotted with ascending figures of “young men and maidens, old men and children,” on their way to “praise the name of the Lord, whose name alone is excellent.”