God's Good Man by Marie Corelli (best young adult book series .txt) đ
- Author: Marie Corelli
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The singing of the May-day children had now grown so faint and far as to be scarcely audible,âand the call of the cuckoo shrilling above the plaintive murmur of the wood pigeons, soon absorbed even the echo of the young human voices passing away. A light breeze stirred the tender green grass, shaking down a shower of pink almond bloom as it swept fan-like through the luminous air,âa skylark half lost in the brilliant blue, began to descend earthwards, flinging out a sparkling fountain of music with every quiver of his jewel- like wings, and away in the sheltered shade of a small hazel copse, the faint fluty notes of a nightingale trembled with a mysterious sweetness suggestive of evening, when the song should be full.
More than an hour elapsed, and no living being entered the seclusion of the parsonâs garden save Nebbie, the parsonâs rough Aberdeen terrier, who, appearing suddenly at the open study-window, sniffed at the fair prospect for a moment, and then, stepping out with a leisurely air of proprietorship lay down on the grass in the full sunshine. A wise-looking dog was Nebbie,âthough few would have thought that his full name was Nebuchadnezzar. Only the Reverend John knew that. Nebbie was perfectly aware that the children had come with the Maypole, and that his master had accompanied them to the big meadow. Nebbie also knew that presently that same master of his would return again to make the circuit of the garden in the company of Bainton, according to custom,âand as he stretched his four hairy paws out comfortably, and blinked his brown eyes at a portly blackbird prodding in the turf for a worm within a stoneâs throw of him, he was evidently considering whether it would be worth his while, as an epicurean animal, to escort these two men on their usual round on such a warm pleasant morning. For it was a dogâs real lazy day,âa day when merely to lie on the grass was sufficient satisfaction for the canine mind. And Nebbie, yawning extensively, and stretching himself a little more, closed his eyes in a rapture of peace, and stirred his tail slightly with one, two, three mild taps on the soft grass, when a sudden clear whistle caused him to spring up with every hair bristling on end, fore-paws well forward and eyes wide open.
âNebbie! Nebbie!â
Nebbie was nothing if not thoroughbred, and the voice of his master was, despite all considerations of sleep and sunshine, to him as the voice of the commanding officer to a subaltern. He was off like a shot at a tearing pace, nose down and tail erect, and in less than a minute had scented Walden in the shrubbery, which led by devious windings down from the orchard to the banks of the river Rest, and there finding him, started frantically gambolling round and round him, as though years had parted man and dog from one another, instead of the brief space of an hour. Walden was smiling to himself, and his countenance was extremely pleasant. Nebbie, with the quaint conceit common to pet animals, imagined that the smile was produced specially for him, and continued his wild jumps and barks till his red tongue hung a couple of inches out of his mouth with excess of heat and enthusiasm.
âNebbie! Nebbie!â said the Reverend John, mildly; âDonât make such a noise! Down, lad, down!â
Nebbie subsided, and on reaching the river bank, squatted on his haunches, with his tongue still lolling out, while he watched his master step on a small floating pier attached by iron chains and posts to the land, and bend therefrom over into the clear water, looking anxiously downward to a spot he well knew, where hundreds of rare water-lilies were planted deep in the bed of the stream.
âNymphea Odorata,ââhe murmured, in the yearning tone of a lover addressing his beloved;ââNymphea Chromatellaânow I wonder if I shall see anything of them this year! The Aurora Caroliniana must have been eaten up by water-rats!â
Nebbie uttered a short bark. The faintest whisper of âratsâ seriously affected his nerves. He could have told his master many a harrowing story of those mischievous creatures swimming to and fro in the peaceful flood, tearing with their sharp teeth at the lily roots, and making a horrible havoc of all the most perfect buds of promise. The river Rest itself was so clear and bright that it was difficult to associate rats with its silver flowing,âyet rats there were, hiding among the osiers and sedges, frightening the moorhens and reed-warblers out of their little innocent lives. Nebbie caught and killed them whenever he could,âbut he had no particular taste for swimming, and he was on rather âstrained relationsâ with a pair of swans who, with a brood of cygnets kept fierce guard on the opposite bank against all unwelcome intrusion.
His careful examination of the lily beds done, John Walden sprang back again from the pier to the land, and there hesitated a moment. His eyes rested longingly on a light punt, which, running half out of a rustic boathouse, swayed suggestively on the gleaming water.
âI wish I had time,ââ he said, half aloud, while Nebbie wagging his tail violently, sat waiting and expectant. The river looked deliciously tempting. The young green of the silver birches drooping above its shining surface, the lights and shadows rippling across it with every breath of air,âthe skimming of swallows to and fro,âthe hum of bees among the cowslips, thyme and violets that were pushing fragrantly through the clipped turf,âwere all so many wordless invitations to him to go forth into the fair freedom of Nature.
âThe green trees whispered low and mild, It was a sound of joy! They were my playmates when a child, And rocked me in their arms so wild! Still they looked on me and smiled As if I were a boy!â
Such simple lines,âby Longfellow too, the despised of all the Sir Oracles of criticism,âyet coming to Waldenâs memory suddenly, they touched a chord of vivid emotion.
âAnd still they whispered soft and low! Oh, I could not choose but go!â
he hummed half under his breath, and then with a decided movement turned from the winding river towards the house.
âNo, Nebbie, itâs no use,â he said aloud, addressing his four-footed comrade, who thereupon got up reluctantly and began to trot pensively beside himââWe mustnât be selfish. There are a thousand and one things to do. There is dinner to be served to the children at two oâclockâthere is Mrs. Keeley to call uponâthere are the school accounts to be looked into,ââ here he glanced at his watchâ â Good Heavens!âhow time flies! It is half-past eleven! I shall have to see Bainton later on.â
He hurried his steps and was just in sight of his study window, when he was met by his parlourmaid, a neat, trim young woman who rejoiced in the euphonious name of Hester Rockett, and who said as she approached him:
âIf you please, sir, Mrs. Spruce.â
His genial face fell a little, and he heaved a short sigh.
âMrs. Spruce? Oh, Lord!âI mean, very well! Show her in, Hester. You are sure she wants to see me? Or is it her girl Kitty she is after?â
âShe didnât mention Kitty, sir,â replied Hester demurely; âShe said she wished to see you very particular.â
âAll right! Show her into my study, and afterwards just go round to the orchard and tell Bainton I will see him when heâs had his dinner. I know I shaânât get off under an hour at least!â
He sighed again, then smiled, and entered the house, Nebbie sedately following. Arrived in his own quiet sanctum, he took off his soft slouched hat and seated himself at his desk with a composed air of patient attention, as the door was opened to admit a matronly- looking lady with a round and florid countenance, clad in a voluminous black gown, and wearing a somewhat aggressive black bonnet, âtippedâ well forward, under which her grey hair was plastered so far back as to be scarcely visible. There was a certain aggrieved dignity about her, and a generally superior tone of self- consciousness even in the curtsey which she dropped respectfully, as she returned Waldenâs kindly nod and glance.
âGood morning, Mrs. Spruce!â
âGood morning, sir! I trust I see you well, sir?â
âThank you, Mrs. Spruce, I am very well.â
âWhich is a mercy indeed!â said Mrs. Spruce fervently; âFor we never knows from one day to another whether we may be sound or crippled, considering the diseases which now flies in the air with the dust in the common road, as the papers tell us,âand dust is a thing we cannot prevent, do what we may, for the dust is there by the will of the Almighty, Who made us all out of it.â
She paused. John Walden smiled and pointed to a chair,
âWonât you sit down, Mrs. Spruce?â
âThank you kindly, sir!â and Mrs. Spruce accordingly plumped into the seat indicated with evident relief and satisfaction. âI will confess that it is a goodish step to walk on such a warm morning.â
âYou have come straight from the Manor?â enquired Walden, turning over a few papers on his desk, and wondering within himself when the good woman was going to unburden herself of her business.
âStraight from the Manor, sir, yes,âand such a heat and moil I never felt on any May morning, which is most onwholesome, I am sure. A cold May and a warm June is what I prefers myself,âbut when you get the cuckoo and the nightingale clicketinâ together in the woods on the First of May, you can look out for quarrelsome weather at Midsummer, leastways so I have heard my mother often say, and she was considered a wise woman in her time, I do assure you!â
Here Mrs. Spruce untied her bonnet-strings and flung them apart,â she likewise loosened the top button of her collar and heaved a deep sigh. Again the Reverend John smiled, and vaguely balanced a penholder on his fore-finger.
âI daresay your mother was quite right, Mrs. Spruce! Indeed, I believe all our mothers were quite right in their day. All the same, Iâm glad itâs a fine May morningâ, for the childrenâs sakes. They are all down in the big meadow having a romp together. Your little Kitty is with them, looking as bright as a May blossom herself.â
Mrs. Spruce straightened herself up, patted her ample bosom, with one hand, and threw her bonnet-strings still further back.
âKittyâs a good lass,â she said, âthough a bit mettlesome and wild; but Iâm not saying anything again her. The Lord forbid that I should run down my own flesh and blood! Anâ sheâs better than most gels of her age. I wouldnât grudge her a bit of fun while sheâs got it in her,âHeaven knows itâll be soon gone out of her when she marries, which natârally she will do, sooner or later. Anyhow, sheâs all Iâve got,âwhich is a marvel how the Lord deals with some of us, when you see a little chidester of a woman like Adam Frostâs wife with fifteen, boys and girls, and me with only one nesh maid.â
Walden was silent. He was not disposed to argue on such marvels of the Lordâs way, as resulted in endowing one family with fifteen children, and the other with only a single sprout, such as was accorded to the righteous Jephthah, judge of Israel.
âHowsomever,â continued Mrs. Spruce, âKittyâs welcome to jump round
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