Hetty Wesley Part 39

For some reason a silence fell between them. Molly broke it with a laugh, which nevertheless trembled a little. "Then your gown should be a patchwork, too?"

"Why to be sure it is," he answered gravely; "and I wish the world could see it so, quartered out upon me like a herald's coat, and each quartering a.s.signed--that is Mr. Wesley's, and that your mother's, and that, again, your brother John's--"

"And the sleeve Miss Molly's: I will be content with a sleeve.

Only it must have the armorial bearings proper to a fourth daughter, with my simple motto--'b.u.t.ter and New-laid Eggs.'"

The sound of their merriment reached Mrs. Wesley through an open window, and in the dim kitchen Mrs. Wesley smiled to herself.

"But," objected he, "the sleeve will not do. I do not wear my heart upon my sleeve, Molly." She turned her head abruptly. For the first time in his life he had dared to call her Molly, and was trembling at his boldness. At first he took the movement for a prompt rebuke: then, deciding that she had not heard, he was at once relieved and disappointed.

But be sure she had heard. And she was not angry: only--this was not the old Johnny Whitelamb, but another man in speech and accent, and she felt more than a little afraid of him.

"Tell me more of Hetty," she commanded, and resting one hand on her staff pointed to the south-west, where, over the coping of the wall, out of a pure green chasm infinitely deep between reddened clouds of sunset, the evening star looked down.

He knew the meaning of the sudden gesture. Had not Hetty ever been her Star?

"She is beautiful as ever. You never saw so sad a face: the sadder because it is never morose."

"I believe, John, you loved her best of us all."

"I wors.h.i.+pped her. To be her servant, or her dog, would have been enough for me. I never dared to think of her as--as--"

--"As you thought, for example, of her crippled sister, whom you protected."

"Molly!" He drew back. "Ah, if I dared--if I dared!" she heard him stammer, and faced him swiftly, with a movement he might have misread for anger, but for the soul s.h.i.+ning in her eyes.

"Dare, then!"

"But I am penniless," said he, a few moments later. For him the heavens still spun and the earth reeled: but out of their turmoil this hard truth emerged as a rock from the withdrawing flood.

"G.o.d will provide for us. He knows that I cannot wait--and you--you must forget that I was unmaidenly and wooed you: for I _did_, and it's useless to deny it. But I have known--known--oh, for ever so long! And I have a short while to be happy!"

Either he did not hear or he let slip her meaning. His eyes were on the star, now almost level with the wall's coping.

"And this has come to me: to me--that was once Johnny Whitelamb of the Charity School!"

"And to me," she murmured; "to me--poor Grizzle, whom even her parents despised. The stars s.h.i.+ne upon all."

"I remember," he said, musing, "at Oxford, one night, walking back to college with your brother John. We had been visiting the prisoners in Bocardo. As we turned into the Turl between Exeter and Jesus colleges there, at the end of the street--it is little more than a lane--beyond the spire of All Saints' this planet was s.h.i.+ning.

John told me its name, and with a sudden accord we stood still for a moment, watching it. 'Do you believe it inhabited?' I asked.

'Why not?' he said. 'Then why not, as this world, by sinners: and if by sinners, by souls crying for redemption in Christ?' 'Ay,' said he,' for aught we know the son of G.o.d may pa.s.s along the heavens adding martyrdom to martyrdom, may even at this moment be bound on a cross in some unseen planet swinging around one in this mult.i.tude of stars. But,' he broke off, 'what have we to do with this folly of speculation? This world is surely parish enough for a man, and in it he may be puzzled all his days to save his own soul out of the many millions.'"

"And father," murmured Molly, "designs him to take Epworth cure!

But why are you telling me this?"

"Because I see now that if G.o.d's love reaches up to every star and down to every poor soul on earth, it must be something vastly simple, so simple that all dwellers on earth may be a.s.sured of it, as all who have eyes may be a.s.sured of the planet yonder; and so vast that all bargaining is below it, and they may inherit it without considering their deserts. Is not G.o.d's love greater than human? Yet, see, this earthly love has come to me--Johnny Whitelamb--as to a king. It has taken no account of my worth, my weakness: in its bounty I am swallowed up and do not weigh. To dream of it as holding tally with me is to belittle and drag it down in thought to something scarcely larger than myself. I share it with kings, as I share this star.

Can I think G.o.d's love less magnificent?"

But Molly shrank close to him. "Dear, do not talk of these great things: they frighten me. I am so small--and we have so short a while to be happy!"

CHAPTER VIII.

Samuel Wesley to the Lord Chancellor.

Westminster, January 14th, 1733-4.

My Lord,--The small rectory of Wroote, in the diocese and county of Lincoln, adjoining to the Isle of Axholme, is in the gift of the Lord Chancellor, and more then seven years since it was conferred on Samuel Wesley, Rector of Epworth. It lies in our low levels, and is often overflowed--four or five years since I have had it; and the people have lost most or all the fruits of the earth to that degree that it has hardly brought me in fifty pounds per annum, _omnibus annis_, and some years not enough to pay my curate there his salary of 30 pounds a year.

This living, by your lords.h.i.+p's permission and favour, I would gladly resign to one Mr. John Whitelamb, born in the neighbourhood of Wroote, as his father and grandfather lived in it, when I took him from among the scholars of a charity school, founded by one Mr. Travers, an attorney, brought him to my house, and educated him there, where he was my amanuensis for four years in transcribing my _Dissertations on the Book of Job_, now well advanced in the press; and drawing my maps and figures for it, as well as we could by the light of nature.

After this I sent him to Oxford, to my son John Wesley, Fellow of Lincoln College, under whom he made such proficiency that he was the last summer admitted by the Bishop of Oxford into Deacon's Orders, and placed my curate in Epworth, while I came up to town to expedite the printing my book.

Since I was here I gave consent to his marrying one of my seven daughters, and they are married accordingly; and though I can spare little more with her, yet I would gladly give them a little glebe land at Wroote, where I am sure they will not want _springs of water_. But _they_ love the place, though I can get n.o.body else to reside on it. If I do not flatter myself, he is indeed a valuable person, of uncommon brightness, learning, piety and indefatigable industry; always loyal to the King, zealous for the Church, and friendly to our Dissenting Brethren; and for the truth of this character I will be answerable to G.o.d and man. If therefore your lords.h.i.+p will grant me the favour to let me resign the living unto him, and please to confer it on him, I shall always remain your lords.h.i.+p's most bounden, most grateful, and most obedient servant,

Samuel Wesley, Sen.

The Lord Chancellor complied: and so, in February, with an income of but fifty pounds a year, increased to seventy by Mr. Wesley's kindness, but in good heart and hope and such love as can only be between two simple hearts that have proved each other, John Whitelamb and Molly took possession of the small parsonage.

They were happy: and of their happiness there is no more to be said, save that it was brief. In the last days of October Molly's child was born, and died: and a few hours later while the poor man held her close, refusing to believe, with a sigh Molly's spirit slipped between his arms and went to G.o.d.

To G.o.d? It tore the man up by the roots, and the root-soil of his faith crumbled and fell with the moulds upon her coffin.

He went from her graveside back to the house and closed the door.

Mrs. Wesley had urged him to return with the family to Epworth, and John, who had ridden from Oxford to preach the funeral sermon, shook him by the hand and added his persuasions. But the broken husband thanked him shortly, and strode away. He had sat through the sermon without listening to a word: and now he went back to a house lonely even of G.o.d.

He and Molly had been too poor to keep a servant: but on the eve of her illness a labourer's wife had been hired to do the housework and cook the meals. And seeing his lethargy, this sensible woman, without asking questions, continued to arrive at seven in the morning and depart at seven in the evening. He ate the food she set before him. On Sunday he heard the bell ringing from his church hard by.

But he had prepared no sermon: and after the bell had ceased he sat in his study before an open book, oblivious.

Yet prayer was read, and a sermon preached, in Wroote Church that day. John Wesley had walked over from Epworth; and when the bell ceased ringing, and the minutes pa.s.sed, and still no rector appeared, had stepped quietly to the reading-desk.

After service he walked across to the parsonage, knocked gently at the study door and entered.

"Brother Whitelamb," he said, "you have need of us, I think, and I know that my father has need of you. To-morrow I return to Oxford, and I leave a letter with him that he will wish to answer. Death has shaken him by the hand and it cannot guide a pen: he will be glad to employ his old amanuensis. What is more, his answer to my letter will contain much worth your pondering, as well as mine, for it will be concerned with even such a spiritual charge as you have this day been neglecting."

"Brother Wesley," answered the widower, looking up, "you have done a kind deed this morning. But what was your text?"

"My text was, 'Son of man, behold I take from thee the desire of thine eyes with a stroke: yet shalt thou not mourn or weep, neither shall thy tears run down.'"

"I love you, brother: you have ever been kind indeed to me. Yet you put it in my mind at times, that the poor servant with one talent had some excuse, if a poor defence, who said 'I know thee, that thou art a hard man.'"

"Do I reap then where I have not sown, and gather where I have not strewn?"

"I will not say that. But I see that others prepare the way for you and will do so, as Charles prepared it at Oxford: and finding it prepared, you take command and march onward. You were born to take command: the hand of G.o.d is evident upon you. But some grow faint by the way and drop behind, and you have no bowels for these."

Silence fell between them. John Whitelamb broke it. "I can guess what your father's letter will be--a last appeal to you to succeed him in Epworth parish. Do you mean to consent?"

"I think not. My reasons--"