“It’s he as sure as eggs,” she had said to herself when she first saw him; “how mortal slow he do walk, to be sure! If he was coming as joe to me I’d soon shake him into quicker steps than them.”
“Oh, Mrs. Sturt!” said he, “I hope you’re quite well,” and he stopped short at her gate.
“Pretty bobbish, thankee, Mr. Rowan; and how’s yourself? Are you going over to the cottage this evening?”
“Who’s at home there, Mrs. Sturt?”
“Well, they’re all at home; Mrs. Ray, and Rachel, and Mrs. Prime. I doubt whether you know the eldest daughter, Mr. Rowan?”
Luke did not know Mrs. Prime, and by no means wished to spend any of the hours of the present evening in making her acquaintance.
“Is Mrs. Prime there?” he asked.
“ ’Deed she is, Mr. Rowan. She’s come back these last two days.”
Thereupon Rowan paused for a moment, having carefully placed himself inside the gateposts of the farmyard so that he might not be seen by the inmates of the cottage, if haply he had hitherto escaped their eyes.
“Mrs. Sturt,” said he, “I wonder whether you’d do me a great favour.”
“That depends—” said Mrs. Sturt. “If it’s to do any good to any of them over there, I will.”
“If I wanted to do harm to any of them I shouldn’t come to you.”
“Well, I should hope not. Is she and you going to be one, Mr. Rowan? That’s about the whole of it.”
“It shan’t be my fault if we’re not,” said Rowan.
“That’s spoken honest,” said the lady; “and now I’ll do anything in my power to bring you together. If you’ll just go into my little parlour, I’ll bring her to you in five seconds; I will indeed, Mr. Rowan. You won’t mind going through the kitchen for once, will you?”
Luke did not mind going through the kitchen, and immediately found himself shut up in Mrs. Sturt’s back parlour, looking out among the mingled roses and cabbages.
Mrs. Sturt walked quickly across the road to the cottage door, and went at once to the open window of the sitting-room. Mrs. Ray was there with a book in her hand—a serious book, the perusal of which I fear was in some degree due to the presence of her elder daughter; and Mrs. Prime was there with another book, evidently very serious; and Rachel was there too, seated on the sofa, deeply buried in the manipulation of a dress belonging to her mother. Mrs. Sturt was sure at once that they had not seen Luke Rowan as he passed inside the farmyard gate, and that they did not suspect that he was near them.
“Oh, Mrs. Sturt, is that you?” said the widow, looking up. “You’ll just come in for a minute, won’t you?” and Mrs. Ray showed by a suppressed yawn that her attention had not been deeply fixed by that serious book. Rachel looked up, and bade the visitor welcome with a little nod; but it was not a cheery nod as it would have been in old days, before her sorrow had come upon her.
“I’ll have the cherries back in her cheeks before the evening’s over,” said Mrs. Sturt to herself, as she looked at the pale-faced girl. Mrs. Prime also made some little salutation to their neighbour; but she did so with the very smallest expenditure of thoughts or moments. Mrs. Sturt was all very well, but Mrs. Prime had greater work on hand than gossiping with Mrs. Sturt.
“I’ll not just come in, thankee, Mrs. Ray; but if it ain’t troubling you I want to speak a word to you outside; and a word to Rachel too, if she don’t mind coming.”
“A word to me!” said Rachel getting up and putting down her dress. Her thoughts nowadays were always fixed on the same subject, and it seemed that any special word to her must have reference to that. Mrs. Ray also got up, leaving her mark in her book. Mrs. Prime went on reading, harder than ever. There was to be some conference of importance from which she could not but feel herself to be excluded in a very special way. Something wicked was surely to be proposed, or she would have been allowed to hear it. She said nothing, but her head was almost shaken by the vehemence with which she read the book in her lap.
Mrs. Sturt retired beyond the precincts of the widow’s front garden before she said a word. Rachel had followed her first through the gate, and Mrs. Ray came after with her apron turned over her head. “What is it, Mrs. Sturt?” said Rachel. “Have you heard anything?”
“Heard anything? Well; I’m always a hearing of something. Do you slip across the green while I speak just one word to your mother. And Rachel, wait for me at the gate. Mrs. Ray, he’s in my little parlour.”
“Who? not Luke Rowan?”
“But he is though; that very young man! He’s come over to make it up with her. He’s told me so with his own mouth. You may be as sure of it as—as—as anything. You leave ’em to me, Mrs. Ray; I wouldn’t bring them together if it wasn’t for good. It’s my belief our pet would a’ died if he hadn’t come back to her—it is then.” And Mrs. Sturt put her apron up to her eyes.
Rachel having paused for a moment, as she looked first at her mother and then at Mrs. Sturt, had done as she was bidden, and had walked quickly across the green. Mrs. Ray, when she heard her neighbour’s tidings, stood fixed by dismay and dread, mingled with joy. She had longed for his coming back; but now that he was there, close upon them, intending to do all that she had wished him to do, she was half afraid of
