"Well, I did say once that if Passon were married he'd be a fine man
spoilt, but I've altered my mind now! I think he's a fine man full
growed at last, like a plant what's stopped a bit an' suddenly takes
a start an' begins to flower. An' so far as my own line goes, if
Missis Walden, bless 'er, comes round me talkin' about the rectory
garden, which is to be kep' up just the same as ever, an' fusses
like over the lilac bush what he broke a piece off of for her,
well!--I DID say I'd never 'ave a petticut round MY work--but a
pretty petticut's worth looking at, it is reely now!"
So the harmless chatter among the village folks went on, and the
feasting, dancing and singing lasted long. Chief of important
personages among all that gathered under the old beech-trees was
Josey Letherbarrow,--very feeble,--very dim of eye, but stout of
heart and firm of opinion as ever. Beside him sat Bishop Brent,--
with Walden himself and his bride,--for from his venerable hands
Maryllia had sought the first blessing on her marriage as soon as
the wedding ceremony had ended.
"Everything's all right if we'll only believe it!" he said now,
looking with a wistful tenderness from one to the other--"Life's all
right--death's all right! I'm sartin sure I'll find everything just
as I've hoped an' prayed for't when I gets to th' other side o' this
world, for I've 'ad my 'art's best wish given to me when all 'ope
seemed over--an' that was to see Squire's gel 'appy! An' she IS
'appy!--look at 'er, as fresh as a little rose all smilin' an' ready
to bloom on 'er husband's lovin' 'art! Ah! Th' owld Squire would a'
been proud to see 'em this bright day! And as for the Lord A'mighty
He knows what He's about I tell ye!" and Josey nodded his head with
great sagacity--"Some folks think He don't--but He do!"
The Bishop smiled.
"Verily I have not found so great a faith--no, not in Israel!"--he
murmured, as presently he rose and strolled away by himself for a
while to muse and meditate. Towards sunset Walden, going in search
of him found him in the rose garden, looking at the profuse red
clusters of bloom in the old French damask border.
"How they smile openly to the sun!" he said, pointing to them, as
John approached--"Like love!--or faith!"