My last day at Elm Close came swiftly and surely, and the sun rose, and went pitilessly up into the heavens, and sank down behind White Horse Hill, and the clocks went on striking one after another, just as if it had been any other day. What a number of things I had in my head that morning to say to all of them, and above all to her; but one thing or another interfered, and I had said not one quarter of them, and these not in the way I had intended, before it was dark, and tea on the table. But I did go all round the farm and the village, and took a last look at every field and nook and corner where I had been so happy.
The old lady was unusually talkative at tea, and for some time afterwards. The fact that I was not going to leave the house till after midnight, and was to be at business, in London, at nine o’clock the next morning, now that she had realized it, excited her very much, and waked up all sorts of recollections of her own travels; particularly how, when she was a child, she had been a whole day getting to Reading by the stage, and how, even after her marriage, she and father had had to sleep at Windsor, on the occasion of their one visit to London. I was watching Miss Lucy at her work all the time, and thought she seemed a little absent and sorrowful, and when our eyes met every now and then, she looked away directly. We hardly said a word, and left Joe to keep up the talk with the old lady.
Before long she got tired and went off to bed, and then, I thought, if something would only call Joe out—but nothing happened, and so we sat on talking commonplaces, till prayer time; which, however, Joe did consent to put off this evening, because it was my last, till past ten o’clock. The three servants came in, and knelt down as usual; and I, in a place where I could see her, and watch every turn of her figure, and hear every breath she drew. I own I didn’t listen to a word that Joe read—I couldn’t—and I don’t believe any poor fellow in my state will ever be hardly judged, whatever square-toed people may say, for not forcing himself to attend when he hasn’t the power to do it. I only know that, though I couldn’t listen to the prayers, I could and did thank God for having brought me down there, and allowed me to see her and know her; and prayed, as heartily as was in me to pray, that I might never do any thing which might make me unworthy of one so bright, and pure, and good as she.
And too soon Joe shut the book, and got up, and the servants went out, and Joe dived off into the recess; and she lighted her candle and came up to me, holding out her hand, but without saying any thing, or looking up in my face.
I took the hand which she held out to me in both mine, but somehow, when I thought it might be for the last time, I couldn’t let it go. So I stood holding it, my heart beating so that I couldn’t speak, and feeling very uncomfortable about the throat. She didn’t take it away, and presently I got my voice again.
“Good bye, Miss Lucy,” said I, “and God bless you. I can’t tell you what my holiday at Elm Close has been to me—and I can’t find words to thank you. I’m a poor lonely fellow, with nobody belonging to me, and leading a slave of a life in the midst of the great crowd, with all sorts of temptations to go wrong. You’ll let me think of you, and Elm Close, and it will be like a little bright window with the sun shining through into our musty clerks’ room. I feel it will help to keep me straight for many a long day. You’ll let me think of you now, won’t you?” said I, pressing the little hand which I held in mine.
“Why, you see I can’t help it if I would,” said she, looking up with a merry light in her eyes; but she went on directly, “but, indeed, I’m sure we shall think of you quite as often as you will of us. Joe used to talk so often about you that I felt quite like an old friend before we met, and now you’ve been here we shall feel so dull without you.”
“Now, you two! don’t stand talking there all night,” said Joe, coming out of the recess, where he had been rummaging out the pipes and a black bottle; “come, come, kiss and part.”
I felt the blood rush up to my face, when Joe said that, but I opened my hands with a jerk, and let hers go, I hardly knew why. If I hadn’t been so fond that I was afraid of her, I should have taken Joe at his word. But I’m glad I didn’t; I’m sure I was right, for I stole a look at her, and saw that she looked vexed, and flushed up to her bright brown hair. Next moment she held out her hand again, and shook mine heartily, and said, without looking up, “Good-bye, you must come again soon,” and then hurried out of the room, and took away all the light with her. Heigh-ho! when shall I see the light again.
Well, as I followed Joe into the kitchen, what between the sinking I felt at having to leave, and the doubt whether I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the last with Miss Lucy, I felt half mad, and the first thing I made up my mind to was to have a good quarrel with Joe.