“I hope, though, thou wilt stand by thy awn church. It hes stood by thee, and all thy family for centuries. I wouldn’t like thee to desert the mother church of England.”
“Howiver can thou speak to me in such a half-and-half way. My prayer book is next to my Bible. Why-a! it is my soul’s mother. I hev my collect for ivery day, and I say it. On the mornings I went hunting, sometimes I was a bit hurried, but as I stood in my bare feet, I allays said it, and I allays did my best to mean ivery word I said.”
“I know, my love – but thou hes lately seemed to hev a sneaking respect for Mr. Foster, and Jonathan Hartley, and Methodists in general.”
“Well, that is true. I hev a varry great respect for them. They do their duty, and in the main they trusted in God through these past black years, and behaved themsens like men. But I should as soon think of deserting thee as of deserting my Mother Church.”
“I believe thee, yet we do hev varry poor sermons, and in that way Mr. Foster is a great temptation.”
“I niver minded the sermon. I hed the blessed Book of Common Prayer. And if the church is my soul’s mother, then the Book of Common Prayer is mother’s milk; that it is, and I wonder that thou hes niver noticed how faithfully I manage to say my collect. My mother taught me to say one ivery morning. I promised her I would. I am a man of my word, Annie, even to the living, and I would be feared to break a promise to the dead. I can’t think of anything much worse a man could do.”
“My dear one! This day God hes chosen thee to take care of his poor. We must get back to Annis as quickly as possible, and give them this hope.”
“So we must, but I hev a meeting to-morrow at ten o’clock with Josepha’s banker, business adviser, her lawyer, and her architect. I may be most of the day with his crowd. This is Monday, could tha be ready to start home on Thursday, by early mail coach?”
“Easily.”
“That will do. Now then, Annie, I hed a varry good dinner, but I want a cup of tea – I am all a quiver yet.”
Later in the evening Dick came in, and joined them at the supper table. He looked at his father and mother and wondered. He saw and felt that something good had happened, and in a few minutes the squire told him all. His enthusiasm set the conversation to a still happier tone, though Dick was for a moment dashed and silenced by his father’s reply to his question as to what he was to look after in this new arrangement of their lives.
“Why, Dick,” answered the squire, “thy aunt did not name thee, and when I did, she said: ‘We’ll find something for Dick when the time is fitting.’ She said also that my time would be so taken up with watching the builders at work, that Dick would hev to look after his mother and the household affairs, till they got used to being alone all day long. Tha sees, Dick, we hev spoiled our women folk, and we can’t stop waiting on them, all at once.”
Dick took the position assigned him very pleasantly, and then remarked that Kitty ought to have been informed. “The dear one,” he continued, “hes been worried above a bit about the money we were all spending. She said her father looked as if he had a heartache, below all his smiles.”
Then Dick thought of the political climax that Harry had spoken of, and asked himself if he should now speak of it. No, he could not. He could not do it at this happy hour. Nothing could be hindered, or helped, by the introduction of this painful subject, and he told himself that he would not be the person to fling a shadow over such a happy and hopeful transition in the squire’s life. For Dick also was happy in a change which would bring him so much nearer to his beautiful and beloved Faith.
Indeed it was a very charming return home. The squire seemed to have regained his youth. He felt as if indeed such a marvelous change had actually taken place, nor was there much marvel in it. His life had been almost quiescent. He had been lulled by the long rust of his actually fine business talents. Quite frequently he had had a few days of restlessness when some fine railway offer presented itself, but any offer would have implied a curtailment, which would not result in bettering his weavers’ condition, and he hesitated until the opportunity was gone. For opportunities do not wait, they are always on the wing. Their offer is “take or leave me,” and so it is only the alert who bid quick enough.
After a pleasant, though fatiguing drive, they reached Annis village. Their carriage was waiting at the coach office for them, and everyone lifted his cap with a joyful air as they appeared. The squire was glad to see that the caps were nearly all paper caps. It was likely then that many of his old weavers were waiting on what he had promised in his speech to them. And it filled his heart with joy that he could now keep that promise, on a large and generous scale. He saw among the little crowd watching the coach, Israel Naylor, and he called him in a loud, cheerful voice, that was in itself a promise of good, and said: “Israel, run and tell Jonathan Hartley to come up to the Hall, and see me as soon as iver he can and thou come with him, if tha likes to, I hev nothing but good news for the men. Tell them that. And tell thysen the same.”
In an hour the squire and his family and his trunks and valises and carpet bags were all at home again. Weary they certainly were, but oh, so happy, and Dick perhaps happiest of all, for he had seen Mr. Foster at his door, and as he drove past him, had lifted his hat; and in that silent, smiling movement, sent a message that he knew would make Faith as happy as himself.
I need not tell any woman how happy Mistress Annis and her daughter were to be home again. London was now far from their thoughts. It was the new Annis that concerned them – the great, busy town they were to build up for the future. Like the squire, they all showed new and extraordinary energy and spirit, and as for the squire he could hardly wait with patience for the arrival of Jonathan Hartley and Israel.
Actually more than twenty of the old weavers came with Jonathan, and Annie found herself a little bothered to get sittings for them, until the squire bethought him of the ballroom. Thither he led the way with his final cup of tea still in his hand, as in loud cheerful words he bid them be seated. Annie had caused the chairs to be placed so as to form a half circle and the squire’s own chair was placed centrally within it. And as he took it every man lifted his paper cap above his head, and gave him a hearty cheer, and no man in England was happier at that moment than Antony Annis, Squire of Annis and Deeping Hollow.
“My friends!” he cried, with all the enthusiasm of a man who has recaptured his youth. “I am going to build the biggest and handsomest factory in Yorkshire – or in any other place. I am going to fill it with the best power looms that can be bought – a thousand of them. I am going to begin it to-morrow morning. To-night, right here and now, I am going to ask Jonathan to be my adviser and helper and general overseer. For this work I am offering him now, one hundred and fifty pounds the first year, or while the building is in progress. When we get to actual weaving two hundred pounds a year, with increase as the work and responsibility increases. Now, Jonathan, if this offer suits thee, I shall want thee at eight o’clock in the morning. Wilt tha be ready, eh?”
Jonathan was almost too amazed to speak, but in a moment or two he almost shouted —
“Thou fairly caps me, squire. Whativer can I say to thee? I am dumbfounded with joy! God bless thee, squire!”
“I am glad to be His messenger of comfort to you all. These are the plans for all who choose to take them, my old men having the preference wheriver it can be given. To-morrow, Jonathan and I will go over my land lying round Annis village within three miles, and we will pick the finest six acres there is in that area for the mill. We will begin digging for the foundation Monday morning, if only with the few men we can get round our awn village. Jonathan will go to all the places near by, to get others, and there will be hundreds of men coming from London and elsewhere, builders, mechanics, and such like. The architect is hiring them, and will come here with them. Men, these fresh mouths will all be to fill, and I think you, that awn your awn cottages, can get your wives to cook and wash for them, and so do their part, until we get a place put up for the main lot to eat and sleep in. Jonathan will help to arrange that business; and you may tell your women, Antony Annis will be surety for what-iver is just money for their work. Bit by bit, we will soon get all into good working order, and I am promised a fine factory ready for work and business in one year. What do you think of that, men?” Then up went every paper cap with a happy shout, and the squire smiled and continued:
“You need not fear about the brass for all I am going to do, being either short or scrimpit. My partner has money enough to build two mills, aye, and more than that. And my partner is Annis born, and loves this bit of Yorkshire, and is bound to see Annis village keep step with all the other manufacturing places in England; and when I tell you that my partner is well known to most of you, and that her name is Josepha Annis, you’ll hev no fear about the outcome.”
“No! No! Squire,” said Jonathan, speaking for all. “We all know the Admiral’s widow. In one way or other we hev all felt her loving kindness; and we hev often heard about her heving no end of money, and they know thy word, added to her good heart, makes us all happy and satisfied. Squire, thou hes kept thy promise thou hes done far more than keep it. God must hev helped thee! Glory be to God!”
“To be sure I hev kept my promise. I allays keep my promise to the poor man, just as fully as to the rich man. Tell your women that my partner and I are going to put in order all your cottages – we are going to put wells or running water in all of them, and re-roof and paint and whitewash and mend where mending is needed. And you men during your time of trouble, hev let your little gardens go to the bad. Get agate quickly, and make them up to mark. You knaw you can’t do rough work with your hands, you that reckon to weave fine broadcloth; but there will be work of some kind or other, and it will be all planned out, while the building goes on, as fast as men and money can make it go.”
“Squire,” said Jonathan in a voice so alive with feeling, so strong and happy, that it might almost have been seen, as well as heard, “Squire, I’ll be here at eight in the morning, happy to answer thy wish and word.”
“Well, then, lads, I hev said enough for to-night. Go and make your families and friends as happy as yoursens. I haven’t said all I wanted to say, but I shall be right here with you, and I will see that not one of my people suffer in any way. There is just another promise I make you for my partner. She is planning a school – a good day school for the children, and a hospital for the sick, and you’ll get them, sure enough.”
“Squire, we thank thee with all our hearts, and we will now go and ring t’ chapel bell, and get the people together, and tell them all thou hes said would come to pass.”
“Too late to-night.”
“Not a bit too late. Even if we stop there till midnight, God loves the midnight prayer. Oh, Squire Annis, thou hes done big things for workingmen in London, and – ”
“Ay, I did! I wouldn’t come home till I saw the workingmen got their rights. And I shall see that my men get all, and more, than I hev promised them. My word is my bond.”
Then the men with hearty good-bys, which is really the abbreviation of “God be with you!” went quickly down the hill and in half-an-hour the chapel bells were ringing and the squire stood at his open door and listened with a glad heart to them. His wife and daughter watched him, and then smiled at each other. They hardly knew what to say, for he was the same man, and yet far beyond the same. His child-likeness, and his pleasant bits of egotism, were, as usual, quite evident; and Annie was delighted to see and hear the expressions of his simple self-appreciation, but in other respects he was not unlike one who had just attained unto his majority. To have had his breakfast and be ready for a day’s tramp at eight o’clock in the morning was a wonderful thing for Antony Annis to promise. Yet he faithfully kept it, and had been away more than an hour when his wife and daughter came down to breakfast.
Dick soon joined them, and he was not only in high spirits, but also dressed with great care and taste. His mother regarded him critically, and then became silent. She had almost instantly divined the reason of his careful dressing. She looked inquisitively at Katherine, who dropped her eyes and began a hurried and irrelative conversation about the most trifling of subjects. Dick looked from one to the other, and said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I see I have spoiled a private conversation. I beg pardon. I will be away in a few minutes.”
“Where are you going so early, Dick?”
“I am going to Mr. Foster’s. I have a message to him from father, and I have a very important message to Faith Foster from myself.” He made the last remark with decision, drank off his coffee, and rose from the table.
“Dick, listen to your mother. Do not be in a hurry about some trivial affair, at this most important period of your father’s – of all our lives. Nothing can be lost, everything is to be gained by a little self-denial on the part of all, who fear they are being neglected. Father has the right of way at this crisis.”
“I acknowledge that as unselfishly as you do, mother. I intend to help father all I can. I could not, would not, do otherwise. Father wants to see Mr. Foster, and I want to see Miss Foster. Is there anything I can do for yourself or Kitty when I am in the village?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Then good-by,” and with a rapid glance at his sister, Dick left the room. Neither mother nor sister answered his words. Mistress Annis took rapid spoonfuls of coffee; Katherine broke the shell of her egg with quite superfluous noise and rapidity. For a few moments there was silence, full of intense emotion, and Katherine felt no inclination to break it. She knew that Dick expected her at this very hour to make his way easy, and his intentions clear to his mother. She had promised to do so, and she did not see how she was to escape, or delay this action. However, she instantly resolved to allow her mother to open the subject, and stand as long as possible on the defensive.
Mistress Annis made exactly the same resolve. Her lips quivered, her dropped eyes did not hide their trouble and she nervously began to prepare herself a fresh cup of coffee. Katherine glanced at her movements, and finally said, with an hysterical little laugh, “Dear mammy, you have already put four pieces of sugar in your cup,” and she laid her hand on her mother’s hand, and so compelled her to lift her eyes and answer, “Oh, Kitty! Kitty! don’t you see, dearie? Dick has gone through the wood to get a stick, and taken a crooked one at the last. You know what I mean. Oh, dear me! Dear me!”
“You fear Dick is going to marry Faith Foster. Some months ago I told you he would do so.”
“I could not take into my consciousness such a calamity.”
“Why do you say ‘calamity’?”
“A Methodist preacher’s daughter is far enough outside the pale of the landed aristocracy.”
“She is as good as her father and every landed gentleman, in or near this part of England, loves and respects, Mr. Foster. They ask his advice on public and local matters, and he by himself has settled disputes between masters and men in a way that satisfied both parties.”
“That is quite a different thing. Politics puts men on a sort of equality, the rules of society keep women in the state in which it has pleased God to put them.”
“Unless some man out of pure love lifts them up to his own rank by marriage. I don’t think any man could lift up Faith. I do not know a man that is able to stand equal to her.”
“Your awn brother, I think, ought to be in your estimation far – ”
“Dick is far below her in every way, and Dick knows it. I think, mother dear, it is a good sign for Dick’s future, to find him choosing for a wife a woman who will help him to become nobler and better every year of his life.”
“I hev brought up my son to a noble standard. Dick is now too good, or at least good enough, for any woman that iver lived. I don’t care who, or what she was, or is. I want no woman to improve Dick. Dick hes no fault but the one of liking women below him, and inferior to him, and unworthy of him: – women, indeed, that he will hev to educate in ivery way, up to his own standard. That fault comes his father’s way exactly – his father likes to feel free and easy with women, and he can’t do it with the women of his awn rank – for tha knaws well, the women of ivery station in life are a good bit above and beyond the men, and so – ”
“Dear mammy, do you think? – oh, you know you cannot think, father married with that idea in his mind. You were his equal by birth, and yet I have never seen father give up a point, even to you, that he didn’t want to give up. I think father holds his awn side with everyone, and holds it well. And if man or woman said anything different, I would not envy them the words they would get from you.”
“Well, of course, I could only expect that you would stand by Dick in any infatuation he had; the way girls and young men spoil their lives, and ruin their prospects, by foolish, unfortunate marriage is a miracle that hes confounded their elders iver since their creation. Adam fell that way. Poor Adam!”
“But, mammy dear, according to your belief, the woman in any class is always superior to the man.”
“There was no society, and no social class in that time, and you know varry well what came of Adam’s obedience to the woman. She must hev been weaker than her husband. Satan niver thought it worth his while to try his schemes with Adam.”
“I wonder if Adam scolded and ill-treated Eve for her foolishness!”
“He ought to have done so. He ought to hev scolded her well and hard, all her life long.”
“Then, of course, John Tetley, who killed his wife with his persistent brutality, did quite right; for his excuse was that she coaxed him to buy railway shares that proved actual ruin to him.”
“Well, I am tired of arguing with people who can only see one way. Your sister Jane, who is just like me, and who always took my advice, hes done well to hersen, and honored her awn kin, and – ”
“Mother, do you really think Jane’s marriage an honor to her family?”
“Leyland is a peer, and a member of The House of Lords, and considered a clever man.”
“A peer of three generations, a member of a House in which he dare not open his mouth, for his cleverness is all quotation, not a line of it is the breed of his own brain.”
“Of course, he is not made after the image and likeness of Harry Bradley.”
“Mother, Harry is not our question now. I ask you to give Dick some good advice and sympathy. If he will listen to anyone, you are the person that can influence him. You must remember that Faith is very lovely, and beauty goes wherever it chooses, and does what it wants to do.”
“And both Dick and you must remember that you can’t choose a wife, or a husband, by his handsome looks. You might just as wisely choose your shoes by the same rule. Sooner or later, generally sooner, they would begin to pinch you. How long hev you known of this clandestine affair?”
“It was not clandestine, mother. I told you Dick was really in love with Faith before we went to London.”
“Faith! Such a Methodist name.”
“Faith is not her baptismal name. She came to her father and mother as a blessing in a time of great trouble, and they called her Consola from the word Consolation. You may think of her as Consola. She will have to be married by that name. Her father wished for some private reason of his own to call her Faith. He never told her why.”
“The one name is as disagreeable as the other, and the whole subject is disagreeable; and, in plain truth, I don’t care to talk any more about it.”
“Can I help you in anything this morning, mother?”
“No.”
“Then I will go to my room, and put away all the lovely things you bought me in London.”
“You had better do so. Your father is now possessed by one idea, and he will be wanting every pound to further it.”
“I think, too, mother, we have had our share.”
“Have you really nothing to tell me about Harry and yourself?”
“I could not talk of Harry this morning, mother. I think you may hear something from father tonight, that will make you understand.”
“Very well. That will be soon enough, if it is more trouble,” and though she spoke wearily, there was a tone of both pity and anxiety in her voice.
Indeed, it was only the fact of the late busy days of travel and change, and the atmosphere of a great reconstruction of their whole life and household, that had prevented Mistress Annis noticing, as she otherwise would have done, the pallor and sorrow in her daughter’s appearance. Not even the good fortune that had come to her father, could dispel the sickheartedness which had caused her to maintain a stubborn silence to all Harry’s pleas for excuse and pardon. Dick was his sister’s only confidant and adviser in this matter, and Dick’s anger had increased steadily. He was now almost certain that Harry deserved all the resentment honest love could feel and show towards those who had deceived and betrayed it. And the calamity that is not sure, is almost beyond healing. The soul has not forseen, or tried to prevent it. It has come in a hurry without credentials, and holds the hope of a “perhaps” in its hands; it may not perhaps be as bad as it appears; it may not perhaps be true. There may possibly be many mitigating circumstances yet not known. Poor Kitty! She had but this one sad circumstance to think about, she turned it a hundred ways, but it was always the same. However, as she trailed slowly up the long stairway, she said to herself —
“Mother was talking in the dark, but patience, one more day! Either father or Dick will bring the truth home with them.”