Between Two Loves. Amelia E. Barr

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      The Master's Love

       Table of Contents

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      CHAPTER IV.

      THE MASTER'S LOVE.

      "Our lives most dear are never near,

       Our thoughts are never far apart,

       Though all that draws us heart to heart

       Seems fainter now, and now more clear.

      "To-night love claims his full control,

       And with desire and with regret

       My soul this hour has drawn your soul

       A little nearer yet."

      An admirable reticence distinguishes the Anglo-Saxon concerning the woman he loves. A Frenchman will talk you blind about his Julia's eyes, and ride about the world with the name of his lady-love forever on the tip of his tongue; but not even to Ben Holden did Jonathan talk much of his love for Sarah Benson. Yet it had become the sweetest part of his life. Without absolutely watching her, he was aware of all things which concerned her, and her presence and movements made upon him that impression which the most trifling facts connected with the person we love must make.

      It was a fine night in the middle of January, ​and Jonathan had been to the chapel at a leader's meeting. The financial affairs of the circuit were very much in his hands, and he managed them with the same prudence that he managed the affairs of his own mill. But it was not of them he was musing as he walked thoughtfully home in the moonlight. His daughter's troubles lay heavy upon his heart, for things had not grown pleasanter between Aske and his wife during the past three months. With all the love and authority which his relationship warranted he had advised the unhappy woman, but advice is a medicine few people ever really take. And even where it accorded with Eleanor's own convictions of right, she generally found excuses for setting it aside. "The more I submit, father," she had said, passionately, that very afternoon, "the more unreasonable and tyrannical he is;" and Jonathan had reflected with a sigh that such a result was natural, and to be expected.

      Little good came of his anxiety and worry, but yet he could not keep his daughter's marriage out of his mind, and doubtless he let it "fret him to evil" every time he entertained it. This night as he thought of his beautiful child, and of the fifty thousand pounds which he had ​so cheerfully given to make her happy, he felt bitter and hard towards his son-in-law. And to Aske he had not been able to speak. Once only he had attempted to open the delicate subject, and the young husband had met the overture with such a frigid coldness and haughty air as to effectually check Jonathan's further advances.

      His sorrow made him feel his loneliness, his need of human kindness and of human love, and then his heart turned to Sarah Benson. He had hoped that when his daughter went to Aske, Sarah would be more inclined to listen to his suit, but even in this respect things had gone badly with him. He felt that she avoided him, and he saw that her eyes were full of trouble. The road between Barton Chapel and Burley House was a lonely bit of highway, running along the edge of the moor, with Barton Woods on one side of it. Men in groups of two or three passed him at intervals; they were mill-hands, with the loud, grating voices of men leading a hard life, so he easily gathered from their conversation that they had been to the weekly prayer-meeting. They all gave him a "Good-night, master!" as they passed; and he watched ​them trudging down the hill to their little cottages, with a half-conscious remembrance of the days when he had been their fellow.

      There were several paths through Barton Woods leading from the road to the little villages on the other side of it. Suddenly Jonathan heard the voice of some one coming singing through the lonely place, singing as the untutored sing, with a shrill melancholy, dwelling chiefly on the high notes. He knew the voice well, and he stood still to listen.

      "'I have waited for thee,' He murmured,

       'Through weary nights and days,

       Beside the well in the twilight,

       And along thy devious ways—

       But thou wert content to miss me,'

       And I met His tender gaze.

       "'Content no more, sweet Master,

       Except Thou be with me

       From this time forth in the city,

       Where my daily toil must be;

       And at evening-time by the fountain.

       Where I will sing to Thee."

       He raised me up and blessed me,

       That sweet yet awful Priest;

       He gave me the Cup of Blessing

       From the eternal Feast,

       The wine with hues more radiant

       Than sunrise in the east."

      ​Here the singer came to a little stile, fifty yards in advance of Jonathan, passed over it into the highway, and went forward, singing,

      "Dear heart. I have found the Master.

       He is sweet beyond compare;

       He will save and comfort the weary soul.

       He will make thee white and fair.

       Not as I gave will He give,

       But wine divine and rare."

      "Sarah!"