God's Good Man by Marie Corelli (best young adult book series .txt) đ
- Author: Marie Corelli
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Cicely choked back her tears, and smiled bravely.
âNo, darling, no! You are better,âbutâbut you will be a long time ill!â
Maryllia looked at her searchingly, and sighed a little.
âWhat have they done with Cleo?â she murmured.
âCleo is all right,ââsaid CicelyââShe was badly hurt, but Bennett knows how you love her, and he is doing all he can for her. She will never hunt again, Iâm afraid!â
âNor shall I!â and Maryllia sighed again, and closed her eyes to hide the tears that welled up in them.
There was a dark presentiment in her mind,âa heavy foreboding to which she would not give utterance before Cicely, lest it should grieve her. But the next day, when Dr. Forsyth paid her his usual visit, and said in his usual cheery way that all was âgoing on wellââshe startled him by requesting to speak to him alone, without anyone else in the room, not even the attendant nurse.
âIt is only a little question I want to ask!â she said with the faint reflex of her old bright smile on her faceââAnd Iâm sure youâll answer it!â
âJimmyâ Forsyth hesitated. He felt desperately uncomfortable. He instinctively knew what her question would be,âa question to which there was only one miserable answer. But her grave pleading glance was not to be resisted,âso, making the best of a bad business, he cleared the room, shut the door, and remained in earnest conversation with his patient for half-an-hour. And at the end of that time, he went out, with tears in his keen eyes, and a suspicious cough catching his throat, as he strode away from the Manor through the leafless avenues, and heard the branches of the trees rattling like prison chains in an angry winterâs wind.
The worst was said,âand when it was once said, it was soon known. Maryllia was not to dieânot yet. Fate had willed it otherwise. But she was to be a cripple for life. That was her doom. Never again would her little feet go tripping through the rose gardens and walks of her beloved home,ânever would her dainty form be borne, a weightless burden, by âCleopatra, Queen of Egyptâ through the flowering woods of spring,âfrom henceforth she would have to be carried by others up and down, to and fro, a maimed and helpless creature, with all the physical and healthful joys of living cut away from her at one cruel blow! And yetâit was very strange!âshe herself was not stricken with any particular horror or despair at her destiny. When, after the doctor had left, Cicely came in, trembling and afraid,âMaryllia smiled at her with quite a sweet placidity.
âI know all about myself now,ââshe said, quietlyââIâm sorry in a way,âbecause I shall be so useless. ButâI have escaped Roxmouth for good this time!â
âOh my darling!â wept CicelyââOh my dear, beautiful Maryllia! If it were only me instead of you!â
Maryllia drew the dark head down on the pillow beside her.
âNonsense! Why should it have been you!â she said, cheerfullyââYou will be a delight to the world with your voice, Cicely,âwhereas I am nothing, and never have been anything. I shall not be missed---â
Her voice faltered a moment, as the thought of John Walden suddenly crossed her mind. He would perhapsâonly perhapsâmiss her! Anon, a braver and purely unselfish emotion moved her soul, and she began to be almost glad that she was, as she said to herself, âlaid aside.â
âFor now,ââshe musedââthey can say nothing at all about him at MY expense. Even Roxmouthâs tongue must stop calumniating me,âfor though many people are very heartless, they do draw the line at slandering a crippled woman! Itâs all for the best,âIâm sure itâs all for the best!â
And a serene contentment took possession of her,âa marvellous peace that brought healing in its train, for with the earliest days of February, when the first snowdrops were beginning to make their white way through the dark earth, she was able to be moved from her bed, and carried down to the morning room, where, lying on her couch, near a sparkling fire, with a bunch of early flowering aconites opening their golden eyes in a vase beside her, she looked almost as if she were getting well enough soon to rise and walk again. She was bright and calm, and quickly managed to impart her own brightness and calmness to others. She summoned all the servants of the household to her in turn, and spoke to them so kindly, and thanked them so sweetly for the trouble and care they had taken and were taking on her behalf that they could scarcely hide their tears. As for poor Mrs. Spruce, who had nervously hesitated to approach her for fear of breaking down in her presence, she no sooner made her appearance than Maryllia stretched out her arms like a child, with a smile on her face.
âCome and kiss me, Spruce!â she said, almost playfullyââand donât cry! Iâm not crying for myself, you see, and I donât want anyone else to cry for me. Youâll help to make the cripple-time pleasant, wonât you?âyes, of course you will!âand I can do the housekeeping just the same as everânothing need alter that. Only instead of running about all over the place, and getting in the way, I shall have to keep still,âand you will always know where to find me. Thatâs something of an advantage, Spruce! And youâll talk to me!âoh yes!âtrust you for talking, you dear thing!âand I shall know just as much about everybody as I want to,âthere Spruce!âyou WILL cry!- so run away just now, and come back presently when you feel better -and braver!â Whereat Mrs. Spruce had kissed her on the cheek at her own request, and had caught her little hand and kissed that, and had then hurried out of the room before her rising sobs could break out, as they did, into rebellious blubbering.
âWhich the Lord Almightyâs ways are âard to bear!â she wailed. âAnâ that theyâre past findinâ out, no sensible person will contradict, for why Miss Maryllia should be laid on âer back anâ me left to stanâ upright is a mystery Gospel itself canât clear! Anâ if I could onny see Passon Walden, Iâd ask âim what it all means, for if anybody knows it he will,âbut he wonât see no one, anâ Dr. Forsyth says best not trouble âim, so there I am all at sea without a life- belt, which Spruce beinâ âarder of âearinâ than ever, donât understand nohow nor never will. But if thereâs no way out of all this trouble, the Lord Himself ainât as wise as I took âim for, for didnât He say to a man what âad crutches in the Testymen âArise anâ walkâ?âanâ why shouldnât He say âArise anâ walkâ to Miss Maryllia? I do âope Iâm not sinful, but Iâm fair mazed when I see the Lord âoldinâ off âis hand as âtwere, anâ not doinâ the right thing as âe should do!â
Thus Mrs. Spruce argued, and it is to be feared that ânot doing the right thingâ was rather generally attributed to âthe Lord,â by the good folk of St. Rest at that immediate period. Most of them were thirsting to try a little ârightâ on their own account as concerned Oliver Leach. For the whole story was now known,âthough had Maryllia not told it quite involuntarily in a state of semi- consciousness, she would never have betrayed the identity of her cowardly assailant. But finding that she had, unknowingly to herself, related the incident as it happened, there was nothing to be done on her part, except to entreat that Leach might be allowed to go unpunished. This, however, was a form of ultra-Christianity which did not in any way commend itself to the villagers of St. Rest. They were on the watch for him day and night,âscouts traversed the high road to Riversford from east to west, from north to south in the hope of meeting him driving along to the town as usual on his estate agency business, but not a sign of him had been seen since the evening of the fox-hunt, when Marylliaâs body had been found in Farmerâs Thorpeâs field. Then, one of Adam Frostâs eldest boys had noticed him talking to the Reverend Putwood Leveson at the entrance of the park surrounding Badsworth Hall, but since that time he had not shown himself, and enquiries at his cottage failed to elicit other information than that he was ânot at home.â The people generally suspected him of being âin hiding,â and they were not far wrong.
One day, soon after her first move from her bedroom to the morning room, and when she had grown in part accustomed to being carried up and down, Maryllia suddenly expressed a wish to hear the village choir.
âI should like the children to come and sing to me,ââshe said to CicelyââYou remember the hymn they sang on that one Sunday I went to church last summerââThe Lord is my Shepherdâ? You sang it with them, Cicely,âand it was so very sweet! Couldnât they come up here to the Manor and sing it to me again?â
âOf course they could if you wish it, darling!â said Cicely, blinking away the tears that were only too ready to fall at every gentle request proffered by her friendââAnd Iâm sure they will! Iâll go now and tell Miss Eden you want them.â
âYes, do!â said Maryllia, eagerlyââAnd, Cicely,âwait a minute! Have you seen Mr. Walden at all since Iâve been ill?â
âNo,ââreplied Cicely, quietlyââHe has not been very well himself, so Dr. Forsyth says,âand he has not been about much except to perform service on Sundays, and to visit his sick parishioners---â
âWell, I am a sick parishioner!â said MarylliaââWhy should he leave me out?â
Cicely looked at her very tenderly.
âI donât think he has left you out, darling! I fancy he has thought of you a great deal. He has sent to enquire after you every day.â
Maryllia was silent for a minute. Then, with her own quaint little air of authority and decision, she saidâ
âWell!âI want to see him now. In fact, I must see him,ânot only as a friend, but as a clergyman. Because you know I may not live very long---â
âMaryllia!â cried Cicely, passionatelyââDonât say that!â
âI wonât, if you donât like it!â and Maryllia smiled up at her from her pillowsââBut I think I should like to speak to Mr. Walden. So, as you will be passing the rectory on your way to fetch Miss Eden and the children, will you go in and ask him if he will come up and see me this afternoon?â
âI will!â And Cicely ran out of the room with a sense of sudden, inexplicable excitement which she could scarcely conceal. Quickly putting on her hat and cloak, she almost flew down the Manor avenue, regardless of the fact that it was raining dismally, and only noticing that there was a scent of violets in the air, and one or two glimmerings of yellow crocus peeping like golden spears through the wet mould. Arriving at the rectory, she forgot that she had not seen Walden at all since Marylliaâs accident, and scarcely waiting for the maid Hester to announce her, she hastened into his study with startling suddenness. Springing from his chair, he confronted her with wild imploring eyes, and a face from which ever vestige of colour had fled.
âWhat is it?â he muttered faintlyââMy God spare me!âsheâshe is not dead?â
âNo, no!â cried Cicely, smitten to the heart with self-reproach at her own unthinking impetuosityââNoânoâNO! Oh what an utter idiot I am! Oh, Mr. Walden, I didnât thinkâI didnât knowâoh, dear Mr.
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