"Well, I am surprised to see you at the market this morning, Silas
Lynn," said Molly Maloney, who had come to stock her basket with fresh
flowers, and who came across Lynn standing moodily by one of the stalls.
"Why, ain't this yer wedding-day?--but glory be to heaven, man, how
blue you looks! Where's Jill? Is anything wrong with the bit of a
colleen?"
"No," said Lynn, "there's nothing wrong with Jill; she's comin' down to
me presently, and there'll be a weddin' sure enough, don't you make no
mistake on that pint, Mrs Maloney; but I'm standing here a-looking out
for a young chap o' the name o' Carter. Do you happen to know, ma'am,
ef he's come to the market yet?"
"Him as used to keep company with Jill?" exclaimed Mother Maloney; "yes,
I seen him 'arf an hour ago a-buying young peas and other vegetables for
his barrer; he were round by the south door and--" But Lynn had left
her.
He strode rapidly in the direction the Irishwoman had pointed out. His
hands were stuck deep in his pockets; his great sullen shoulders were
raised almost to his ears; the old ferocious look was once more
observable on his brow and round his mouth.
Nat Carter had nearly concluded his purchases when he felt a heavy hand
laid on his shoulder; he looked swiftly round and came face to face with
Lynn.
Nat coloured high when he perceived the person who had touched him. A
swift wave of crimson dyed his cheeks and broad, white brow, then it
receded, leaving the young fellow pale as death. His blue eyes flashed
angrily at Lynn, his lips were firmly shut, he clenched his fist, and
waited for the other to begin.
"You ha' heard," said Lynn, who noticed these quick changes in the young
costermonger's face with a sort of grim satisfaction; "you ha' heard, in
course, that I'm a-gwine to wed that pretty little flower gel, Jill
Robinson, this arternoon."
"It's true, I ha' heard," replied Nat; "I don't want to speak on it,
Silas Lynn. I'm werry busy just now a-packing my barrer, and as you and
me can't have naught in common, I'll be wishing yer a good morning."
"But we can have a deal in common, lad," exclaimed Silas; "why, what a
chicken 'eart you has, turning faint when a gel's name is spoke!"
"Ef you say that again I'll knock yer down," said Nat.
"Oh, tut, tut, ain't I twice yer age nearly, and a good bit more than
twice yer strength? Look yere, Nat Carter, I want to talk this matter
over with you. I ha' heard something 'bout you and Jill what must be
cleared up afore I take her afore the parson. I want to do wot's right
and jest by that yere gel. Your 'appiness ain't nothing to me, Nat
Carter; and my own 'appiness! well, the Lord knows as that ain't worth
considerin' either. But Jill's 'appiness, that's everything. You and
me 'as got to argufy that pint out werry clear, young man."
Nat did not reply for a moment or two, then he said in a slow voice:
"I had made a vow in my heart that I'd never speak the name o' that
young gel, Jill Robinson, again," he murmured. "I heard as she were
about to be spliced up with you, Mr Lynn, and I said to myself I 'opes
as I'll never meet that old man, Silas Lynn, or maybe I'll be doin' him
a mischief. I don't want to meet yer, or to speak with yer, nor to hear
anything more 'bout Jill. It's quite true as I dreamt a dream that
there wor a gel o' that name, what could be all the world to me. I woke
one arternoon and there worn't no sech Jill nowhere on God's wide earth.
I don't want to speak to you about the gel you're gwine to marry, Mr
Lynn."
"Not ef I tell yer somethink that'll prove to yer as the Jill you dreamt
on is still living on this earth, sweeter and brighter nor the best and
the purtiest sweet spring flower; ef I proves that to yer, will yer come
along and talk with me, Nat Carter?" A queer, convulsive change came
over Nat's face when Silas said these words. He hesitated for a moment.
"I--I'll come," he said then. "I didn't think as I could be such a weak
fool, but somehow I don't know myself lately."
He called to a tall, slight lad who stood near, gave him some directions
with regard to the vegetables and fruit he had just bought, and turned
with Lynn to leave the market.
The two men turned down a side street and entered a small restaurant,
which was nearly empty at this early hour. Lynn called to the girl who
stood behind the counter to bring coffee for two, and then walked with
Carter into the back room, which they had absolutely to themselves.
"There can't be no smooth words between you and me to-day, Nat Carter,"
said Lynn, turning suddenly and facing the younger and slighter man.
"The facts of the case are these. This yere is my wedding-day. I'm
about to contract marriage with a young gel not seventeen year old, and
I--you're pleased to call me an old man, Nat Carter, and I don't deny as
I'll see forty years come two more summers. But a man of my age is in
his prime. You young 'uns think to laugh at us, but there ain't no
laughing in these muscles," here Lynn doubled his brawny arm, "nor in
this yere chest, nor in these legs, nor in this fist. I feel pretty
sartin' as this yere fist o' mine 'ud knock a slim, straight young
feller like you into kingdom come, Nat Carter. There's nothing o' decay
'bout me, although you think fine to call me old. My strength is in its
prime--and my passions, my love, and my hate, why _they're_ in their
prime too. I tell yer, Carter, that the love of a young feller like you
ain't nothing to the love o' a man like me--but that ain't the pint--wot
am I talking on? Come and set down here, Carter, and let me speak
quietly to yer."
"I don't know why you have dragged me in yere," said Carter; "I wor busy
with my work; I don't want yer to flaunt yer 'appiness in my face."
"Will you have anything to eat with the coffee, gentlemen?" said the
girl who brought it in.
"Nothing--go," thundered Lynn; she disappeared quickly, and Silas turned
to Carter.
"Poor lad," he said in an almost pitying tone, "you talk o' me flaunting
my 'appiness in yer face--I must be awful full o' malice to do a thing
o' that sort. You wait awhile, Carter, and see how the tables 'ull turn
presently. As I wor saying, this yere is my weddin'-day--I and that
little gel with the dark eyes and the sweet look, and the scent of the
wild flowers 'bout her, wor to be spliced up afore the pa'son to-day.
Oh, I wor 'appy--the Lord God Almighty knows as I wor a'most too 'appy
to live. Yesterday it seemed to me as ef I trod on air--oh, what
wouldn't I ha' done for my little gel! But, yesterday, Carter,
'appiness and me said good-bye to one another. Now you listen, young
man, your turn is a-comin'. I went yesterday to Saint Bartholomew's
Hospital to take a parcel to a sick neighbour. As I wor leaving the
ward a woman screeched out to me; I turned, and who should I see but
Jill's mother, Poll. Ah, you may well start, young man, but you wait
awhile, there's more to come. I went up to that woman, and she spoke to
me and arsked had I seen Jill. I said, `Yes.' She arsked, `Is Jill
'appy?' I said `yes' again to that. Then I added, looking 'ard at her,
`It 'ud be queer ef Jill worn't 'appy seeing as she's to be wed
to-morrow.'
"`Oh, thank the good Lord,' said Poll; `I'm real glad to hear that. I
was frightened as she and Nat Carter wouldn't wed one another.' You may
suppose, young man, as I turned a bit sick and queer when I hear'd words
o' that sort. I jest knew you as a likely chap what bought wegetables
in the market. I had never hear'd you and Jill spoke on as keeping
company. I had to steady myself a bit; but I spoke quite quiet, and got
Poll to tell me all that wor in her 'eart. Seems to me, young man, that
you're a person with mighty little o' the quality what pious folks call
_faith_; seems to me as you're but chicken-hearted in your love.
However, to my tale. Poll said as you and Jill had allers loved each
other ever since you was kids, and that when she saw Jill last, you and
she had made up yer' minds to get spliced to one another as soon as
pa'son could be found to tie yer up. Well, poor Poll she had an ugly
secret, and she was mortal feared o' your finding it out. Jill knowed
o' it, but Poll didn't want you ever to know. She said you wor good,
but a bit 'ard, and you wouldn't have naught in the world to do with any
gel what worn't honest and sober and true. Jill wor honest and sober
and true; but Poll herself, poor soul, suffered awful pain fro' a bad
sort of tumour in her breast, and she tuk gin on the quiet to ease it.
She made no bones o' it to me that she often got drunk to ease the pain,
and Jill know'd it, although she wouldn't let on. Well, when you and
Jill said as you'd become man and wife, Poll thought as she'd run away,
so as you'd never hear of her and never find out as Jill wor the
daughter of a woman as drank. She was in an awful takin' as you'd heard
of the news, for yer sister met her and said some cruel words, and it
wor a real load off her mind when I told her as Jill wor to be married
to-day; she made sure, in course, as the bridegroom wor to be you.
"I left the hospital without having let out one single thing 'bout
myself. It don't matter to you, young man, how I felt. I thought over
everythink, and I went to see Jill. Afore I spoke to her mother I made
sure as the pretty bit of a cuttin' wor a-taking real root in my 'eart;
but arter I heard Poll's story, I made jest as sure as she never cared
for me; she only married me to save herself. To make a long story
short, it seems that you give her five pounds to take care on for a pal
o' yourn. Well, she lost the money--I make no doubt, from what I draw'd
out of her, that her mother stole it. She come to me to ask me to lend
her five pounds. I said I'd give it to her ef she'd wed me. She said
no at first; but the next morning early she come all the way down to my
bit of a cottage in Kent and said yes as she would wed me ef I'd give
her the five pounds and arsk no questions. You may well look queer, Nat
Carter. You ask your own 'eart what you did to make a gel like Jill
give yer up, and be too frighted to tell yer the truth. Look at
me--_I'm_ rough enough, 'eaven knows--but do yer think she'd be
frightened to arsk me anythink? No, no; that ain't Jill. And now the
pint to be decided on is, What's best for her 'appiness?"