Between Two Loves. Amelia E. Barr

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СКАЧАТЬ no toast either, dear lass;" and when he had drained the pot and emptied the plate, she made him more, and still listened, with apparent interest, to his talk, though her thoughts towards the end of the meal were wandering far from Elsham woods and the sea-side. After it was over and the house-place tidied, she went to her room to consult with her own heart. What was to be done with this loving, charming lad, who could neglect his work, and spend a whole day gathering shells and weeds, and seemingly quite unconscious that he was doing wrong? She had allowed Steve to pursue his own way so long, and yet she was aware that it contained elements of disaster which at some time would be beyond control.

      This night, in spite of her apparent content, a question she had long put aside presented itself peremptorily for answer. This road, or that road, which was it to be? She did not distrust her own judgment, and she was a woman who, amid many counsellors, would be ​very likely to follow her own judgment, yet she wanted some one to advise her to do what she had already determined on.

      She put on her best dress and bonnet and went down-stairs. Steve was sitting in the chimney-corner, serenely smoking a long clay pipe. On the table at his elbow there was a jar of tobacco, his violin and his specimens. His face beamed with the luxury of anticipated pleasure, yet as soon as he saw that Sarah was going out he said, "Wait a bit Sarah; I'm none too tired to walk wi' thee."

      "Nay, I won't hev thee, Steve. I'm going by mysen to-night, lad."

      His nature was too easy and careless to ask where. He laid down his pipe and took up his violin, and as she went up the street, she heard him playing "The Bonnie House o' Airlie." In some subtle way the strains made an unpleasant impression on her, and she walked rapidly onward, never stopping until she reached a quarter of the town where there were no mills, but many squares and terraces of comfortable houses. She unfastened the gate of one set in a small garden, and went in. The main path was lined with hollyhocks of every color, and as ​she lingered to admire them, the front door opened, and an old lady called to her.

      "Sarah Benson, I saw you coming. Walk in."

      "Nay, but I was going round, Mrs, Allison. Is t' preacher in?"

      "Yes, he is in. There is nothing wrong, I hope, Sarah?"

      "Nay, I hope not. I want to tell him summat, that's all."

      "Well, then, he is in his study. Go to him."

      It was not quite so easy to tell the preacher her trouble as she had thought it would be. She hesitated so much that he said, "Sarah, you must be candid with me. I can't advise you upon half-lights. What is wrong with Steve?"

      "He wont stick to his loom, sir, and he's that fond o' rambling about t' country-side that he might as well have no home at all, and I'm feared Master Burley will lose patience wi' him and turn him off, and there's no telling then what will be to do."

      "Well, Sarah?"

      "The master, sir, he likes me, and he has ​spoken words that I might listen to if I knew what to do about Steve."

      "Do you mean me to understand that Jonathan Burley has asked you to marry him?"

      "To be sure I mean that. I am a decent lass, sir, and he would say no wrong word to me."

      "You would be a very rich woman, Sarah, and could do a deal of good."

      "But not to Steve, there is no love between Steve and Burley. If I married Burley, Steve would go, and I know not where to. He would niver have bite, nor sup, nor day's work from him, and Burley would fret none if he thought I was rid o' the charge o' Steve!"

      "And you think Steve needs you? Is that it?"

      "I'm sure that Steve needs me. There's nobody loves him but me. I keep a home for him to come to when he's tired out, and if I didn't listen to his fiddling, and his tales o' all he's seen and read, why he'd varry soon find public-houses where he and his fiddle would be more than welcome. I'm sure o' that sir."

      "You are very likely right, Sarah. Now, do you love Jonathan Burley?"

      ​"Nay, I think not. I know nothing about love, but it seems to me I hev no heart for any one but Steve."

      "Then if you are the good girl I take you to be, Sarah, you will not marry a man you do not love, and you will stand by a brother you do love just as long as he needs your help to keep him out of sin and danger. Steve is not a bad lad, the things he likes are good things if he does not neglect his duty for them. Go home and do the best you can to keep him right."

      "Thank you, sir, I will do that for sure, I will."

      As she went home, she bought a slice of ham for Steve's supper, and as he ate it, she talked to him of his rambles and his specimens until he was in his very happiest humor. Then she told him how Burley had admired his work, and somehow made him feel that it would not be very hard to go back to it in the morning.

      "And, Steve," she added, "suppose thee and me join t' building society, and buy our own cottage. Then thou could hev a bit o' garden and grow all t' flowers in it thou likes best. If thou will only stick to thy loom, it will be varry ​easy work, lad, and I'm sure there will be no one as will hev a finer garden than thee."

      This idea charmed Steve. He declared he would work every day, he would work over-hours for it, and in the glow of this new hope he went to bed. Sarah, also, was full of rest and confidence, and as she went about her common household tasks, Steve heard her cheerfully singing.

      "O Lord, how happy is the time.

       When in thy love I rest;

       When from my weariness I climb.

       E'en to thy tender breast.

       "And, anywhere or everywhere.

       So that I do thy will,

       And do my life's work heartily,

       I shall be happy still."

      For, after all, there was in Sarah's heart a sense of disappointment, and a consciousness of resignation to some duty, which she had set before her own interest and pleasure. She had said, truly enough, that Steve was dearest of all to her; and yet, if—if—she would not think of the ifs at all; still, no woman, perhaps, ever resigned the prospect of wealth, honor, and a true affection without some lingering looks backward.

      The Beginning of Strife

       Table of Contents

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      CHAPTER II.

      THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE.

      "Alas! how light a cause may move

       Dissension between hearts that love."

      "O woman, in our hours of ease,

       Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,

       And variable as the shade

       By the light quivering aspen made!"

      "Like as a father pitieth his children."

      "Jonathan, СКАЧАТЬ