But Robin, with a grace and elegance which he must have imported from foreign parts, declined all connection and acquaintance with them, and declared his set resolve to have nothing to do with the name of “Yordas.” They were grieved, as they honestly declared, to hear it, but could not help owning that his pride was just; and they felt that their name was the richer for not having any poor people to share it.
Yet Captain Lyth—as he now was called, even by revenue officers—in no way impoverished his name by taking another to share it with him. The farmer declared that there should be no wedding until he had sold seven stacks of wheat, for his meaning was to do things well. But this obstacle did not last long, for those were times when corn was golden, not in landscape only.
So when the spring was fair with promise of green for the earth, and of blue for heaven, and of silver-gray upon the sea, the little church close to Anerley Farm filled up all the complement of colors. There was scarlet, of Dr. Upround's hood (brought by the Precious boy from Flamborough); a rich plum-color in the coat of Mordacks; delicate rose and virgin white in the blush and the brow of Mary; every tint of the rainbow on her mother's part; and gold, rich gold, in a great tanned bag, on behalf of Squire Popplewell. His idea of a “settlement” was cash down, and he put it on the parish register.
Mary found no cause to repent of the long endurance of her truth, and the steadfast power of quiet love. Robin was often in the distance still, far beyond the silvery streak of England's new salvation. But Mary prayed for his safe return; and safe he was, by the will of the Lord, which helps the man who helps himself, and has made his hand bigger than his tongue. When the war was over, Captain Lyth came home, and trained his children in the ways in which he should have walked, and the duties they should do and pay.
THE END.