Part 28 (1/2)
Across the road was the rectory, seeming more dilapidated than ever, so he thought. Only yesterday he had looked at it, and a picture had come into his mind of the building renewed, the house set to rights, and Nell crowning it all by her grace and beauty. He had imagined her in the garden, among the roses, sweet-peas and morning-glories, the fairest flower of them all. He knew just how she would look, and what a joy it would be to her to tend the various plants. And then what a welcome she would give him upon his return from some parish work. He had dreamed of it all out in the field, and it had made him very happy.
What a success he would make of life with Nell's inspiration and helpfulness. But now his vision was shattered, and the future looked dark and lonely. Nell could never be his, and why should he think of her any more? She had given herself, no doubt, to Ben Stubbles, so that ended it.
It seemed to Douglas as if everything he undertook was a failure. He had not succeeded with his work at St. Margaret's, and he had become entangled in a quarrel in the very parish where he was shortly expected to come as rector, the solution of which he could not see. Instead of bringing peace to troubled Church waters, and harmony out of chaos, he had apparently made matters worse by his interference. Added to this, he was deeply in love with the one woman he could not hope to win.
As he moved slowly up and down the rows thinking of these things, Empty appeared suddenly before him. The lad was breathing hard and seemed greatly agitated.
”h.e.l.lo, Empty! what's wrong?” Douglas enquired, pausing in his work.
”Go fer the doctor, quick,” Empty panted. ”Jean's sick, very sick, an'
ma sent me fer you. She can't spare me a minute, so I must hustle back. Will ye go?”
”Certainly,” Douglas replied. ”But when did Jean become ill? She seemed all right last night.”
”She took sick jist a little while ago. Oh, hurry! Don't waste time talkin'. An', say, ye might drop in an' tell her dad. Joe's very uneasy 'bout Jean.”
Douglas wished to ask Empty a number of questions, but having delivered his message, the lad left him and sped like a deer by a short-cut across the field. The telephone was at the store and Douglas lost no time in getting there. Several people were standing before the counter as he entered the building, who listened with great interest as he asked the store-keeper for the use of the telephone. Then as he spoke to the doctor, requesting him to hurry at once to Mrs. Dempster's, the curiosity of the bystanders became intense. They would have something to discuss among themselves, and a choice bit of gossip would soon be in circulation throughout the parish.
When Douglas left the store, he made his way to the shoemaker's. He found Joe at his bench, half-soling a pair of shoes. He greeted his visitor cordially, and offered him a seat upon the only chair the room contained.
”I haven't time to sit down this morning,” Douglas told him. ”I have just called up the doctor, and dropped in to see you for a minute.”
”Called up the doctor!” Joe repeated, while an anxious look came into his eyes. ”Who's sick?”
”It is Jean. She is not very well.”
”Ah, I was afraid of it,” and the old man laid aside the shoe, and looked intently into his visitor's face. ”Poor la.s.sie, she must have caught cold out on the hills that night. Is she at Mrs. Dempster's yet?”
”Yes. Empty came for me this morning, and he had to go right back.”
”I must go at once.” Joe rose from the bench as he spoke and untied his leather ap.r.o.n. ”Jean may need me now.”
”Would it not be better for your wife to go?” Douglas asked. ”A woman can generally do more in a sick room than a man.”
Joe shook his head as he carefully folded the ap.r.o.n and laid it on the bench.
”No, she couldn't very well go. She hasn't been that far in a long time. It's her foot, you see. It's been troubling her for years.
Jean'll have to come home, and then she can look after her. Just wait, I'll be with you in a minute.”
As the two walked along the road there was little said for a time. Joe seemed to be lost in thought, and occasionally he gave a deep sigh.
”I am thinking,” he at length remarked, ”that this sickness will be for Jean's good. It may be that the Lord has a hand in it, and He will lead her home through the valley of trouble. He did it in olden days, and I believe He does the same now.”
”Have you any idea what is the matter with your daughter?” Douglas enquired. ”What do you suppose has caused such a great change in her from what she was before she left home?”
”I have never heard,” Joe slowly replied. ”Jean would not tell me.”
”But there must have been something, Mr. Benton. It is not natural for a girl who was brought up so carefully to change in such a short time.”
Douglas knew the nature of Jean's illness, and he was anxious that Joe's mind might be somewhat prepared for the shock. He felt that he could do no more than give a hint.
”Jean has been working too hard,” the old man replied. ”She was always a great worker, and I think she is run down and her mind is somewhat affected. She will be all right as soon as she gets over this sickness.”