No peace when I would rise,
Because of Janet’s yellow hair,
Because of Janet’s eyes.”
When Elizabeth Chantrey returned to Market Harford, she did so with quite a clear understanding of the difficulties that lay before her. Edward had spoken to her of his uncle’s wishes, and begged her to fulfil them by remaining on in the old house as his and Mary’s guest. Apparently it never occurred to him that the situation presented any difficulty, or that few women would find it agreeable to be guest where they had been mistress. Elizabeth was under no illusions. She knew that she was putting herself in an almost impossible position, but she had made up her mind to occupy that position for a year. She had given David Blake so much already, that a little more did not seem to matter. Another year, a little more pain, were all in the day’s work. She had given many years and had suffered much pain. Through the years, through the pain, there had been at the back of her mind the thought, “If he needed me, and I were not here.” Elizabeth had always known that some day he would need her—not love her—but need her. And for that she waited.
Elizabeth returned to Market Harford on a fine November afternoon. The sun was shining, after two days’ rain, and Elizabeth walked up from the station, leaving her luggage to the carrier. It was quite a short walk, but she met so many acquaintances that she was some time reaching home. First, it was old Dr. Bull with his square face and fringe of stiff grey beard who waved his knobbly stick at her, and waddled across the road. He was a great friend of Elizabeth’s, and he greeted her warmly.
“Now, now, Miss Elizabeth, so you’ve not quite deserted us, hey? Glad to be back, hey?”
“Yes, very glad,” said Elizabeth, smiling.
“And every one will be glad to see you, all your friends. Hey? I’m glad, Edward and Mary’ll be glad, and David—hey? David’s a friend of yours, isn’t he? Used to be, I know, in the old days. Prodigious allies you were. Always in each other’s pockets. Same books—same walks—same measles—” he laughed heartily, and then broke off. “David wants his friends,” he said, “for the matter of that, every one wants friends, hey? But you get David to come and see you, my dear. He won’t want much persuading, hey? Well, well, I won’t keep you. I mustn’t waste your time. Now that I’m idle, I forget that other people have business, hey? And I see Miss Dobell coming over to speak to you. Now, I wouldn’t waste her time for the world. Not for the world, my dear Miss Elizabeth. Good-day, good-day, good-day.”
His eyes twinkled as he raised his hat, and he went off at an astonishing rate, as Miss Dobell picked her way across the road.
“Such a fine man, Dr. Bull, I always think,” she remarked in her precise little way. Every word she uttered had the effect of being enclosed in a separate little water-tight compartment. “I really miss him, if I may say so. Oh, yes; and I am not the only one of his old patients who feels it a deprivation to have lost his services. Oh, no. Young men are so unreliable. They begin well, but they are unreliable. Oh, yes, sadly unreliable,” repeated Miss Dobell with emphasis.