CALM AFTER STORM
Of course the Cynic had to explain, because he did not realise at first
how shadowy the whole occurrence had been to me. You see, I really was
not fully conscious at the time, and might easily have concluded that I
had dreamt it.
However, he is _my_ Cynic now, really, so I can talk quite freely to
him; and I tell him that after he called me "darling" and whilst he was
trying to make sure that I still breathed, he kissed me; but he says
that convinces him that I really was dreaming. But we have agreed not
to quarrel about it, as one more or less doesn't much matter.
His professional duties must be pretty elastic, for it is now Wednesday
and he has not gone back; though, to be sure, he has done a fair amount
of pleading in a local court and has won the first part of his case and
seems likely to be successful in the next. A remarkable thing about
these bachelors who have waited so long is that they cannot afford to
wait the least bit longer. They are no sooner engaged than they must
be married. But in this instance things are going to be done decently
and in order. The squire says we do not know each other well enough
yet, and suggests two years as the term of our engagement, but I think
we shall compromise on four months.
"What about my studio, Philip?" I asked this morning. "I have not seen
it for days, and it is as dear to me as a lover."
"Is it?" he said; "can you bear to walk as far?"
"Why, of course," I replied; "I'm all right now."
"You'll have to take my arm," he remarked; "you are only shaky yet."
It was merely an excuse, but I did it to please him. Of course all the
village knows what has happened, and a dozen friendly folk nodded, or
smiled or shouted their congratulations according to the measure of
their intimacy or reserve.
When we came in sight of my cottage the studio was nowhere to be seen,
and, greatly surprised, I turned to the Cynic for an explanation, but
he merely pressed my arm and said:
"Farmer Goodenough is there. He will tell you all about it."
I held my peace until we entered the field and stood by my late
landlord's side. Explanation was unnecessary, for the field was still
littered with splintered wood and broken glass, though much of it had
been cleared away.
"So you're about again, miss! Well, I'm downright glad to see you."
Then, indicating the _debris_ with an inclination of the head: "I've
sorted out all 'at seemed to be worth ought. All t' glass picturs 'at
weren't reight smashed I've put into a box an' ta'en into t' 'ouse.
But there isn't much left. Them 'at saw it say 'at t' stewdio cut up
t' paddock like a hairyplane, an' it must ha' collapsed in t' same way."
"It knew it was doomed," remarked the Cynic, "supplanted--and it
promptly put an end to itself."
"Well, never mind, miss," put in Reuben, "there's nought to fret about.
'Off wi' the old love an' on with the new!' I'd nearly put that down
to t' Owd Book, but I should ha' been mista'en. However, ye've made a
good swop, an' I don't know which on ye's got t' best o' t' bargain."
"I have, Reuben," said the Cynic heartily.
I wasn't going to contradict him, of course, though I know he is
"mista'en."
"I was just thinkin', miss, if it's all t' same to you," continued the
farmer, "'at it 'ud be a charity to let Martha an' her little lass have
your cottage. You see----"
"But you forget they are only for widows, Mr. Goodenough," I
interrupted.
He glanced quickly at Philip. "They haven't told you then, miss?
Well, it's out now. Martha is a widow. Barjona got clear by t' skin
of his teeth, but Roger an' t' dog were killed on t' spot; an' though
it sounds a 'ard sayin', it's no loss to Martha an' Lucy. Are we to
let 'em have t' cottage, think ye?"
I agreed, of course; but the tragic death of Roger had saddened me, and
as usual Reuben noticed my clouded expression.
"Now don't you take on, miss. You'll 'ave to leave these things to
them above. After all, as t' Owd Book says, 'It's an ill wind 'at
blows nobody iny good,' an' t' storm has blown you two into one
another's arms an' Martha into t' cottage, in a manner o' speakin'; so
we must look on t' cheerful side. However, I must be stirring."
He raised his cap and left us, and I turned to the Cynic.
"Philip," I said, and I know the tears filled my eyes, "the sight of
the cottage brings back to me sweet memories of dear old Mother
Hubbard. How delighted she would have been to welcome us! How pleased
she would have been if she had known!"
"She did know, Grace," he replied. "I called to see her when you were
away, and the good soul spoke to me about you in such loving terms that
I could not help making her my confidante; and do you know, she asked
if she might kiss me before I left. She hoped to live to see the
consummation, but if that were denied her she bade me tell you how
earnestly she had prayed for our happiness, and how fervently she had
longed to see us united."
Now I have reached the very last line in my book. How could I end it
better than with Mother Hubbard's blessing?
THE END
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_SOME EARLY PRESS OPINIONS_
WINDYRIDGE
_Pall Mall Gazette_.--"'Windyridge' can be heartily recommended."
_Saturday Review_.--"Oh, 'Windyridge' were paradise enow."
_Academy_.--"'Windyridge'is an arresting, fascinating book, one to read
and read again."
_Atheneum_.--"There is a quaint charm about this story of a Yorkshire
village."
_Nation_.--"'Windyridge' is a book that should give genuine pleasure to
tens of thousands of people."
_Methodist Recorder_.--"A White Novel.... This book has real vital
qualities and we can heartily recommend it."
_Outlook_.--"A revelation of how much pleasure can be got from the
perusal of a sincere and simple description of the real things of life."
_Bookman_.--"The story has an atmosphere and a curious charm of its own
that are not easy to define; there is a sort of dream-magic about it; a
delicate lavender-like fragrance."
_Globe_.--"A Notable New Novel.... Few who take it up will care to lay
it down before the last page is reached. It is a novel of the genus to
which 'Cranford' belongs, and we are not sure that it may not challenge
comparison with Mrs. Gaskell's classic."
_Standard of Empire_.--"Here is a book about which one prophecy may be
made with safety: it will be read, quoted, and enthusiastically admired
by a multitude of people; and that for the simple reason that it will
appeal to the hearts of the multitude.... 'Windyridge' will be much
talked of and read this autumn; and its publishers are to be
congratulated."