She took her place on one side of her father, Caleb walked on the other. But she was there quite close to him, and—although decidedly ill at ease—he began to feel a degree of content which he had not known for many days.
The gardener had been amongst those who had observed Caleb’s conversion in the matter of church attendance, and being already sensible of the young man’s intelligent appreciation of his flowers, he was willing to credit him with having turned over a new leaf, and had charitably set aside his doubts of him.
‘Man, Kersey,’ said Sam, as soon as they were free from the crowd, ‘I have got one of the bonniest geraaniums that ever mortal set een on, and I want you to see it for yoursel’. I wouldna have asked you to come on the Sabbath, if it hadna been that I can never get sight of you on a week-day noo.’
‘I don’t suppose there can be any harm in looking at the flower,’ said Caleb, restraining the much more decided opinion he would have expressed on the subject if Pansy had not been there, or if he had been able to guess what she might have thought of it. One strong principle of his creed was that the more beautiful things men look at, the more refined their natures will become, and that for this purpose Sunday was the most appropriate day.
‘That’s just my opinion,’ was the satisfied comment of the gardener; ‘and I wonder you that’s fond o’ flowers, dinna take to studying them in earnest. Do you know anything at all about botany?’
‘Nothing,’ was the honest and regretful reply, for it was not easy to confess absolute ignorance in her presence.
‘Then you’ll just have to come whiles to see me, and I’ll learn you something about it. You will have to come especially in the spring-time; and it’s wonderful how soon you’ll find a real pleasure in it—especially in the geraaniums.’
In this way Caleb became a prospective pupil of the gardener, and after this he walked home with the father and daughter every Sunday. And Pansy became more and more shy in his presence, and blushed more deeply at his coming; whilst his heart swelled and throbbed, and the words he wanted to speak played tantalisingly about his tongue, but found no voice. By-and-by there was a curious change in Pansy. Her shyness and her blushes disappeared: she spoke to him in much the same manner as she did to Jacob Cone or Jerry Mogridge or any of the other men about the place. At first he was disposed to be pleased with the change, for it seemed to make him more at home when he visited the cottage. Presently he began to fancy that she tried to keep out of his way, and he did not understand it. Then one day she had a basket of flowers to take up to the house for the young ladies, and Caleb accompanied her. As they neared the house, he surrendered the basket to her, and he had only done so when they met Coutts.
‘Ah, early birds!’ he said, with his cynical smile; ‘good-morning.—Will you give me a flower for my button-hole, Pansy?—Thank you. That is a very pretty one—it will make me think of you all day.’
He passed on, and Pansy was blushing as she used to do when Caleb spoke to her.