CONCLUSION.
Three years more of progress and Stokebridge had become the model
village of the Black Country. The chief employer of labour, his manager,
the vicar, and schoolmaster all worked together for this end. The
library had been a great success, and it was rare, indeed, for a drunken
man to be seen in the streets even of a Saturday night. Many of the
public-houses had closed their doors altogether; and in addition to the
library a large and comfortable club-house had been built.
The men of an evening could smoke their pipes, play at bagatelle, chess,
draughts, or cards, and take such beer as they required, any man getting
drunk or even noisy to be expelled the club. This, however, was a rule
never requiring to be called into force. The building was conducted on
the principle of a regimental canteen. The beer was good and cheap but
not strong, no spirits were sold, but excellent tea, coffee, and
chocolate could be had at the lowest prices.
The building was closed during the day, but beer was sent out both for
dinners and suppers to those who required it. There was a comfortable
room where women could sew, knit, and talk as they pleased, or they
could, if they liked, sit in the general room with their husbands.
Entertainments and lectures were of frequent occurrence, and the
establishment, supplemented by the library and wash-house, did wonders
for Stokebridge.
The promise made by Mr. Brook at the fete had been carried out. A
choir-master came over twice a week from Birmingham, and the young
people entered into the scheme with such zest that the choir had carried
away the prize three years in succession at Birmingham. The night-school
was now carried on on a larger scale than ever, and the school for
cooking and sewing was so well attended that Mrs. Dodgson had now a
second assistant. To encourage the children and young people an annual
show was held at which many prizes were given for gardening, needlework,
dressmaking, carpentering, and a variety of other subjects. It was
seldom, indeed, that an untidy dress was to be seen, still more uncommon
that a foul word was heard in the streets of Stokebridge. Nothing could
make the rows of cottages picturesque as are those of a rural village;
but from tubs, placed in front, creepers and roses climbed over the
houses, while the gardens behind were gay with flowers.
No young woman needed to remain single in Stokebridge longer than she
chose, for so noteworthy were they for their housewifely qualities that
the young pitmen of the villages round thought themselves fortunate
indeed if they could get a wife from Stokebridge. Bill Cummings, Fred
Wood, and several others of Jack's boy friends, were viewers or
under-managers of the Vaughan, and many had left to take similar
situations elsewhere.
Jack Simpson was popular with all classes. With the upper class his
simple straightforwardness, his cheerfulness and good temper, made him a
great favourite, although they found it hard to understand how so quiet
and unassuming a young fellow could be the hero of the two rescues at
the Vaughan, for, now when the fact was known, Jack no longer made a
secret of his share in the attack by the rioters on the engine-house.
Among the pitmen his popularity was unbounded. Of an evening he would
sometimes come down to the club-room and chat as unrestrainedly and
intimately as of old with the friends of his boyhood, and he never lost
an opportunity of pushing their fortunes.
Once a week he spent the evening with Bill Haden and his wife, who
always came up and passed Sunday with him when he was at home. At this
time all ceremony was dispensed with, the servants were sent out of the
room, and when the pitman and his wife became accustomed to their
surroundings they were far more at their ease than they had at first
thought possible.
On the evenings when he went down to his mother he always dropped in
for an hour's talk with his friend Nelly. There was no shadow of change
in their relations. Nelly was his friend firm and fast, to whom he told
all his thoughts and plans. Harry was assistant master in a school at
Birmingham, and was, as he told Jack, still waiting patiently.
Jack was now often over at Birmingham, and one night he said to Nelly:
"Nelly, I promised you long ago that I would tell you if I ever fell in
love."
"And you have come to tell me now?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," he said, "if it can be called falling in love; for it has been so
gradual that I don't know how it began. Perhaps three years ago, when
she refused another man. I was glad of it, and of course asked myself
why I was glad. There came no answer but one--I wanted her myself."
"I suppose it is Alice Merton?" Nelly said as quietly as before.
"Of course," Jack said; "it could be no one else. I suppose I like her
because she is the reverse of myself. She is gentle but lively and full
of fun, she is made to be the light of a hard working man's home. I am
not at all gentle, and I have very little idea of fun. Alice is made to
lean on some one. I suppose I am meant to be leant upon. I suppose it is
always the case that opposite natures are attracted towards one another,
the one forms the complement of the other."
Nelly sat thinking. This then was the reason why she had never attracted
Jack. Both their natures were strong and firm. Both had full control
over themselves, although both of a passionate nature; both had the
capability of making great sacrifices, even of life if necessary; both
had ambition and a steady power of work. No wonder Jack had thought of
her as a comrade rather than as a possible wife; while Harry, gentler
and easily led, patient rather than firm, leaned upon her strong nature.
"I think, dear Jack," she said, "that Miss Merton is the very woman to
make you happy. You have known each other for twelve years, and can make
no mistake. I need not say how truly and sincerely I wish you every
happiness." There was a quiver in her voice as she spoke, but her face
was as firm and steadfast as ever; and Jack Simpson, as he walked
homewards, did not dream that Nelly Hardy was weeping as if her heart
would break, over this final downfall of her life's dream. It was not
that she had for the last seven years ever thought that Jack would ask
her to be his wife, but she would have been content to go on to the end
of her life as his first and dearest friend. Then she said at last,
"That's done with. Jack and I will always be great friends, but not as
we have been. Perhaps it is as well. Better now than ten years on."
Then her thoughts went to Harry, to whom, indeed, during the last few
years they had gone oftener than she would have admitted to herself. "He
is very faithful and kind and good, and I suppose one of these days I
shall have to give in. He will not expect much, but he deserves all I
could give him."
In after years, however, Nelly Shepherd learned that she could give her
husband very true and earnest love; and the headmaster and mistress of
the largest school at Wolverhampton are regarded by all who know them,
and by none less than by Jack Simpson and his wife, as a perfectly happy
couple.
It is ten years since Jack married Alice Merton, who had loved him for
years before he asked her to be his wife. Jack is now part proprietor of
the Vaughan pit, and is still its real manager, although he has a
nominal manager under him. He cannot, however, be always on the spot, as
he lives near Birmingham, and is one of the greatest authorities on
mining, and the first consulting engineer, in the Black Country. At Mr.
Brook's death he will be sole proprietor of the Vaughan, that gentleman
having at Jack's marriage settled its reversion upon his wife.
Dinner is over, and he is sitting in the garden, surrounded by those he
most cares for in the world. It is the 1st of June, a day upon which a
small party always assembles at his house. By his side is his wife, and
next to her are Harry Shepherd and Nelly. Between the ladies a warm
friendship has sprung up of late years, while that between the three
friends has never diminished in the slightest. On Jack's other hand sits
an artist, bearing one of the most honoured names in England, whose
health Jack always proposes at this dinner as "the founder of his
fortune." Next to the artist sits Mr. Brook, and beyond him Mrs.
Simpson's father, a permanent resident in the house now, but some years
back a professor of mathematics in Birmingham. Playing in the garden are
six children, two of whom call the young Simpsons cousins, although
there is no blood relationship between them; and walking with them are
an old couple, who live in the pretty cottage just opposite to the
entrance of the grounds, and whom Jack Simpson still affectionately
calls "dad" and "mother."
THE END.
Transcriber's Note
Punctuation has been standardized. Inconsistent hyphenation has not been
changed.
This book includes a lot of dialect, which often looks misspelled but
was intentionally written that way. Therefore, some irregularities that
might be errors have not been corrected in order to preserve author
intent.
On page 83, the name Ratcliffe was misspelled in the original text. This
has been corrected.
In the paragraph beginning "There was a movement in the crowd," the next
sentence in the original text is, '"The soldiers be coming" run from
mouth to mouth.' As this is likely an error in the text, "run" has been
changed to "ran."
In the formula given by Jack, the original text has an extraneous 1.
This seems to be an error by the author and has been removed.
Italics in the original text are indicated by _ in the text version,
with one exception: the above-mentioned formula was originally in
italics, but the _ characters have been removed for clarity.