OLD ADAM OLLIVER TO THE RESCUE.
“Who is it that will doubt
The care of Heaven, or think immortal
Powers are slow, ’cause they take privilege
To choose their own time, when they will send
Their blessings down?”
_Davenant._
Not one word did Nathan Blyth breathe to Lucy of his unsatisfactory
interview with Philip Fuller. He was more affected than he cared to
own, and went about his work with an absent and a heavy heart. Quick
to read all the changes in her father’s moods, Lucy soon missed his
cheery anvil song, and wondered what dark cloud had come to cast its
shadow over him. In vain she sought his confidence. Seeing her
anxiety, Nathan sought to deceive her by a constrained pleasantry and
a heartless song. But Nathan was a poor hand at playing the hypocrite,
and Lucy’s loving eyes were not to be deceived.
When Philip returned home, his father’s first glance at the sad and
excited face told him that his errand, as he feared, had been in vain.
This, instead of giving him pleasure, as it would once have done,
increased alike his admiration of the character of the village
blacksmith, and his desire to secure his peerless daughter as a
life-mate for his son.
“I’ll go myself,” said the old man, when Philip had described his
unsatisfactory and disheartening interview.
“That will be of no use,” said Philip; “he told me that even if you
came, his mind would not alter, and Nathan Blyth always means what he
says.”
The next morning the squire wrote a note to Lucy, to inform her that a
piece of land, admirably situated in the centre of the village, was at
the disposal of the Methodists, and that he had given orders for its
transfer to Farmer Houston, free of cost. Great was Lucy’s rejoicing
at this glorious victory, and Nathan Blyth was compelled to admire the
tone of the letter which announced the grateful and timely gift. It
breathed such love and esteem for Lucy, and what struck the blacksmith
still more forcibly, it displayed such a spirit of Christian piety,
and was marked by such a genuine religious feeling, that Natty
wondered more and more.
* * * * *
That evening Farmer Houston, Nathan Blyth, and Adam Olliver were
seated in the dining-room of the former, when Mr. Houston read the
note which he had himself received, and which ran as follows:--
“MY DEAR HOUSTON,--When you last made a request to me for a
piece of land on which to build a Methodist chapel, I imagined
that I had sufficient reasons for refusing, and I did refuse
accordingly. Subsequent events and a careful study of the whole
matter have convinced me that I was in the wrong. I have now
given orders for the transfer to you of a plot of ground on
Nestleton Green, believing as I do, that the erection of the
desired sanctuary will be of great moral and spiritual advantage
to the village, and will be to the praise and glory of God. I
shall be glad when your scheme is ripe to render further aid to
your godly undertaking.
“Yours faithfully,
“AINSLEY FULLER.”
“Wonderful!” said Mr. Houston. “Isn’t it?”
“Marvellous!” said Nathan Blyth.
“Joost as ah expected!” said Adam Olliver. “The Lord’s nut only
answered ’wer prayers, bud He’s gannin’ te giv uz t’ squire inte t’
bargain. God be thenk’d! Maister, let uz pray!”
The three good men and true knelt to offer heartfelt gratitude to God,
and Adam Olliver, with tearful eyes and a heart gushing with love and
praise, poured out his soul in prayer and thanksgiving, pleading for
the old squire, for Philip, for God’s cause in Nestleton, until the
very atmosphere seemed to be charged with the presence and power of a
loving and gracious God. As soon as they had risen from their knees,
Adam said,--
“Halleluia! Mah poor aud een ’ll see a Methodist chapil i’ Nestleton,
an’ then ah’ll say, ‘Noo, Lord, lettest thoo thi’ sarvant depayt i’
peeace, for mi’ ees hez seen Thy salvation.’ Prayse the Lord! T’
moontain was varry greeat an’ varry high, bud afoore oor Zerubbabel
it’s becum a playn! O Maister Houston! O Nathan Blyth! Nivver doot Him
nae mair!”
“Well,” said Nathan, “it is the Lord’s doing, and it _is_ marvellous.”
Bringing forth the letter which the old squire had written to Lucy on
the same subject, he said, “Now, then, what do you think to this?”
“MY DEAR MISS BLYTH,--Your request, offered in response to my
sincere desire to show my gratitude and esteem, at first
surprised me; but the more I thought of it, the more clearly I
saw in it another illustration of your own self-forgetting and
self-sacrificing character. I should cordially have given the
plot of land for your sake; I believe, however, that it will be
more pleasing to you to know that I make this gift to the
Methodist people in genuine admiration of the high and holy work
they have done in this village, as well as in other places, and
as a personal thank-offering for mercies, providential and
spiritual, lately received at the hands of a forgiving and
gracious God. As far as you are concerned, I would fain hope
that I may have other and _constant_ opportunities of showing
the affectionate regard in which you are held by
“Yours very sincerely,
“AINSLEY FULLER.”
“God bless ’im,” said Adam Olliver, “’is ’art’s i’ t’ right spot noo,
hooivver, whativver it was fower munths since. An’ as for what he says
aboot Lucy, it’s true, ivvery wod on’t. She’s t’ sweetest, goodest
lass i’ Waverdale, an’ t’ squire hez t’ feynest lad. Lucy Blyth an’
Philip Fuller! Mah wod, Natty, what a pair they wad mak’! Ah ain’t
mitch fayth i’ rich fooaks marryin’ poor fooaks. I offens finnds ’at
they beeath on ’em marry mair then they reckon on. But Lucy’s a laydy,
if ivver there was yan, if Philip’s a gentleman; they beeath luv the
Lord, an’ they beeath luv tee-an t’ other, an’ if they wer’ joined
tegither, all Waverdale wad be the better fo’t. Natty Blyth!” said
Adam, noticing Nathan’s troubled countenance, and suddenly alive to
probabilities, “Natty Blyth, aud friend! deean’t you gan an’ fight
ageean God. Maister Houston, we’ve been an’ prayed te God for a
twelve-munth ’at He wad tonn’d ’art o’ t’ aud squire an’ owerrule
things seea as te get a chapil for uz. Noo, the Lord’s gi’en us what
we wanted, an’ He’s getten things mixed up i’ deein’ it. Are we te
leeav Him, an’ say, ‘There, Lord, Thoo mun brayk t’ threeads off noo;
we’ve getten all we care aboot, an’ t’ rest may drop?’ Ah weean’t be
sae meean an’ sae wicked; we mun still be co-workers wiv Him accordin’
tiv His will. If t’ web ov His providence hez a Methodist chapil i’ t’
pattern, it’s gotten Lucy Blyth an’ Philip Fuller in it as weel. Then,
God helpin’ uz, we moan’t hinder t’ shuttle, but gan on till t’
weeavin’s deean. Sud we hae gotten this land if Philip Fuller hadn’t
been sick? Sud we hae gotten this land if Lucy Blyth hadn’t gone te t’
Hall? Isn’t t’ aud squire ower heead an’ ears i’ luv wi’ beeath Philip
an’ Lucy? Deean’t the two young fooaks luv t’ grund t’ eean t’ uther
walks on? Aren’t they meead for yan anuther like two hoaves ov a pair
o’ sithers? An’ isn’t t’ Methodist chapil gannin’ te be built te wed
’em in? Oppen thi’ een, Natty, an’ see what the Lord’s deein’. Ah
fancy there’s a good bit o’ pride i’ yo’; for it may be just as strang
under a blacksmith’s leather appron as under a squire’s white
weeastcooat. You want te be independent, an’ it’s all varry weel up
tiv a sartain point, bud you can’t be independent o’ God, an’ you’d
better nut try. Natty, aud friend, ha’e you ivver axed Him what He hez
te say aboot it?”
This last inquiry struck Nathan Blyth very forcibly, and he was
compelled to own that to Philip Fuller’s appeal, he had given a final
answer on the strength of previous convictions. The marvellous change
in the squire’s attitude to Lucy and Methodism had not presented
itself to him as the result of Divine interposition, and as requiring
new guidance from the Throne of Grace. He made no answer. Adam Olliver
rose to his feet, and with great solemnity said, “Natty, you an’ me’ll
mak’ this a matter o’ prayer.”
Bidding Farmer Houston good-night, Adam and his companion wended their
way homeward, and on arriving at his cottage the old hedger pressed
Nathan Blyth to go in with him. Judy was over at the Forge, chatting
with Lucy, and the two men drew up to the fire and resumed the
conversation on the subject of Philip Fuller’s request.
“Ah feel ’at there’s nowt for it this tahme bud te ax the Lord te mak’
yer duty plain, Natty. You mun deea right, an’ if you’re bent o’ that
an’ ax Him, He’ll mak’ t’ way as playn as dayleet. Ah’s fair bothered
aboot it. Ah’s sartain that God hez His ’and iv it. Let’s ax Him!”
With wondrous power and unction did Adam plead at the Throne of Grace:
“If it’s for their good an’ Thah glory, an’ t’ good o’ t’ Chotch,
bring ’em tegither, Lord, an’ let nut man payt ’em asunder. Guide
beeath Natty an’ ’is lahtle lass i’ t’ right way. Show all consarned
what’s best. Guide ’em all wi’ Thah coonsel, an’ efterwards bring ’em
te glory. We ax it all for Christ’s seeak. Amen.”
“_Amen_,” said another voice, and rising from their knees they saw
within the door the white and bended head of Squire Fuller.
“Forgive my intrusion,” said he; “I tapped twice at the door, but
could not make you hear. When I opened it and heard your petitions, I
could not help joining in them with all my heart, for I felt their
need as much as you.”
“Cum in, sir, an’ sit yo’ doon,” said Adam, freshening up the cushion
of his old arm-chair for his unusual guest.
“I did not expect to find you here, Mr. Blyth, but my errand has to do
with you and yours. The prayer I heard just now shows that you have
trusted our aged friend, and as I have come on purpose to do the same,
I hope you will give me a few minutes in his presence.”
Nathan bowed, blushed, felt very uncomfortable, stood half a second
irresolute, and then resumed his seat.
“That’s right, Natty,” said Adam; “the Lord’s showin’ yo’ t’ way. Gan
on, sir!”
“I came to you, Adam Olliver, because I know that you are a good man,
that your influence with God and with good men is great, that you are
Mr. Blyth’s trusted friend, and because I want you to be a trusted
friend of mine.”
“God bless yo’, sir. I isn’t mitch use, but ah’ll deea t’ best ah can
fo’ yo’, wi’ all mi’ ’art.”
“Thank you! The case is just here. My son Philip--(“God bless ’im,”
said Adam)--loves Lucy Blyth--(“God bless ’er,” said Adam)--with all
the strength of his nature. I believe that his love and his life are
bound up together. As you know, I strongly opposed it, as also did her
father. Both the young people, with a filial devotion beyond all
praise--(“God bless ’em,” said Adam)--submitted to our decision. Since
then, I and mine have been in the furnace. My son has been at the door
of death, and my life has been shadowed by the heaviest cloud that
ever darkened a human heart. My life was saved from the hand of a
ruffian, my boy was brought from the brink of the grave, and I was
brought back to my Bible and my Saviour--(“Halleluia!” said Adam)--by
the instrumentality of Lucy Blyth. All I have to-day of trust in
Christ, and peace of mind and hope of heaven, I owe to these two young
people--(“Glory be te God!” said Adam, while sympathetic tears were
coursing down his cheeks). Do you wonder, Adam Olliver, that all my
opposition died away? Do you wonder that the great desire of my heart
is to see these two man and wife? I gave my son permission to ask for
her at her father’s hands. He refused, and my son came back to me with
no light in his eye, and I cannot bear to see my boy breaking his
heart over an impossible love. Be my friend, and gain from him the
consent he will not give to me. Tell him that before God and man it is
right that these two, so strangely and mysteriously brought together,
should be one in life and death, one to labour for Jesus and His
cause; one to be a blessing to Waverdale, and good stewards for God
when I am dead and gone!”
“Nathan Blyth!” said Adam, “noo’s the tahme ’at we’ve been axin’ for.
Yah wod frae you will mak’ three ’arts ’appy, will pleease God, an’
fill all Nestleton wi’ joy! Ah deean’t think ’at you’ve mitch doot
ye’rsen, bud if yo’ hev, just let ma’ remind yo’ ’at Lucy owt te hev a
mind ov ’er aun, an’ ’at yo’ owt te lissen te what _she_ hez te say.”
In all his life Nathan Blyth had never been so moved. His independent
spirit, his conviction of duty wrestled with his tenderness of heart,
while the question forced itself upon him as to whether his
convictions were of God. His cool judgment was at war with the
impulses of his soul. But Adam’s last idea had laid abiding hold upon
him. What will Lucy say? After all, her’s was the weightiest voice;
beyond a certain point, he had no right to force her obedience, or be
the arbiter of her destiny, or bind an adamantine chain around her
life. He had done his duty with an honest conscience; now he was
compelled to own that he himself was wavering, that Providence seemed
to be on the other side, and so standing up before the anxious
squire, whose humility was something wonderful to see, he said,--
“Squire Fuller, I yield. I’ve done all I can to hinder it, but I dare
not further withhold my consent. My judgment does not approve, but it
may be misguided and unsound, and I have never known Adam Olliver at
fault; he lives too near to God for that. The matter rests with Lucy,
and no influence of mine shall be exerted to hinder her from deciding
according to the dictates of her conscience and the wishes of her
heart.”
“Thank you for that, Nathan Blyth. I have as much confidence in her as
you have,” said Squire Fuller. “I cannot ask you for more, and may God
guide us all aright.”
“He will,” said Adam Olliver, “an’ as seear as ah’s a livin’ man, Lucy
Blyth’s ‘Yis’ or ‘No’ ’ll be gi’en be’ t’ grace o’ God. Squire Fuller,
ah’ve neea desire te see fooaks get oot o’ their station i’ life, bud
t’ truth is, Lucy Blyth isn’t in hors, an’s called be’ t’ Providence
o’ God te cum up higher.”
“I believe you are right, good old man,” said Mr. Fuller, half beside
himself with joy, “and if ever ‘marriages were made in heaven,’ it
will be the case when that charming girl becomes the bride of my
noble-hearted son!”