B. L. Farjeon

“ But there was one--ah, there was one!--who, seeing my despair and Philip's peril, rushed into the flames to save his friend. Too late, alas! He dragged my darling out of the burning house, but could not save his life; yet he gave my Philip to me for a few blessed hours."
Overcome by her emotion, Margaret paused.
"A noble action!" said Mr. Weston. "A noble man!"
Margaret nerved herself to proceed. "He and I nursed Philip, and watched the life die out of him. Every word my darling uttered is graven on my heart. 'Dear old fellow!' he said, with feeble gasps, to this dearest of friends. ”

“ I gave Nature an order for them, and they grew for me--and bloomed for Margaret. I rode a dozen miles for them, and I'd ride a thousand if she bade me."
"Or fly to the moon, or swim, or dive in the fire, or ride on the clouds, no doubt!"
"Yes, if she wanted me to. She has but to speak."
"Quite right," said Mr. Hart, turning his face from Philip, so that the smile on his lips should not be seen "but that's not my concern. This is. Mind what I say, sir. I'll have no more flowers thrown to my singing Chambermaid." ”

“ The night was beautifully still; not a sound was stirring; and as far as eye could see the white tents of the diggers were gleaming. So Margaret sat and mused, and Philip looked on and dreamed. Here, in the new world, but yesterday a savage waste, the old, old story was being enacted with as much freshness as though the world were but just created. What wonder? Because the sun has risen a few million of times, is the dew on the leaves less sweet and pure in the early morning's light than on that wondrous day when Adam awoke and found Eve by his side? ”

“ Hart wished he had not applied the test; he was satisfied of Philip's sincerity.
"Not so fast!" he cried, in a cheery tone, "not so fast! I only said 'suppose;' I didn't say it was so. How you young hot spirits jump at conclusions."
But it was a few minutes before Philip recovered himself.
"You frightened me," he said, with a feeble smile. "Then it is not true! If I had considered a moment, I should have known; for if truth and innocence have a home in this world, they have it in Margaret's breast. But you came upon me suddenly."
Mr. Hart thought, "Ah! youth, youth, what a painter you are!" ”

“ We will never lose our faith in God and man--never, never, never! Ay, though our dear heart's wishes may never be gratified, we will bow our heads reverently, and believe in goodness, and hope to the last!"
He held out his hand, and Philip took it. The grasp was to the younger man as though he were pledging himself to a life of honour and integrity.
"In my young days," continued Mr. Hart, with a soft light in his eyes, "I had a friend; in my young days I loved a woman as truly as you love Margaret. I have not seen my friend for thirty years. ”

“ You're a painter, and can paint it, and here's payment in advance. There aren't many men in the world that William Smith would trust, but you're one of them. No wonder Philip loved you. I love you! As I hope to be saved, I love you! And--there!--I don't intend to say another word. Good-bye, dear old fellow, and God Almighty bless you!"
And William Smith pressed the old man in his arms, and ran down the hill in a stumbling fashion, for he was almost blinded by his tears; while Mr. Hart, like one in a dream, gazed after his retreating figure until it was lost to his sight. ”

“ It must be the confinement in this narrow street, in this close town----"
"It is not the confinement," interrupted Margaret; "Lucy would thrive in a cage if her heart were not disturbed. A secret sorrow is wearing her away--a sorrow that she keeps to herself, and which only one person in the world has the power to wean from her. No, that person is not you--it is I, Margaret! She has not told me yet, but she will! I want but to know the name of the man!"
"The name of the man!" echoed Mr. Hart in a bewildered tone. "In Heaven's name, what man?" ”

“ Such happiness stirred Margaret's heart at these words that he felt her warm tears upon his hand as she kissed it again and again.
"I cannot express my joy," she said, "for I know that you never yet forfeited a promise. Father," she called Gideon Rowe to her side, and whispered a few words of instruction in his ear. He nodded smilingly, and left her. "Dear Mr. Weston, if such a sentiment as pure loves exists--and we know it does--it exists in the hearts of Lucy and Gerald. As for Miss Forester, here she is to speak for herself." ”

“ Weston, towards whom Dinah Dim looked for assent, was compelled to say:--
"Not one."
"Shall the curse of money," proceeded Dinah Dim, "for ever outweigh love--love that humanises the world? The man who, for money's sake, deliberately drags two loving souls asunder--the man who, for money's sake, deliberately poisons the lives of two young creatures whose hearts are drawn together by the holiest sentiment which sweetens life--brings desolation upon his soul here and hereafter. Who among us has done this?"
"Stephen Viner," said Reuben Thorne, and again they all echoed his words. ”

“ Weston, "a blessing should fall upon such a man!"
"'Take care of Margaret,'" whispered my Philip; "'be a father to her. Dear old dad I hoped to see you, and show you my darling. But he will bring her to you.' He uttered but few words after that," continued Margaret, who standing now between Mr. Weston and Philip's father, held a hand of each, "but they all referred to his noble friend and to me, and you, sir" (to Gideon Rowe) , "whom he loved most tenderly. So my Philip died. Perhaps he hears me tell the sad story of our love on this solemn, beautiful night. Philip, my darling!" ”

“ Hart and William Smith were in the saddle, galloping away over the hills in the direction of the Margaret Reef; the horses did the distance in twenty-five minutes.
"Do you hear them--do you hear them?" cried William Smith exultantly, as they breasted the hill.
The music of the stampers fell on their ears. They halted at a distance of a couple of hundred yards from the machine. Sparks were flying from the chimneys; the fires were roaring; the machine was thumping away, beating the gold out of the quartz; dark forms of men were moving busily about in the shade and lurid light. ”

“ It would have been madness to do so when, by staying here for three months longer, I might have doubled my savings, which are all for her; but I am yearning to hold her in my arms, and press my darling to my heart. Ah, Philip! you don't know what a father's love is--you may, one day, my boy, and then you will understand my feelings. Prudence said, 'Stay a little while longer;' but my heart's yearning beat prudence out of the field. It said to me, 'You are an old man; young as you feel, you may break down. ”

“ In one of the prettiest nooks in Devonshire, the garden of England, where the hedges and hill-slopes are filled with apple-trees, stands, where has stood beyond the memory of living man, the Silver Flagon, an old-fashioned, delightful hotel, irregular in shape, as all pleasant hostelries should be, and so embellished with quaint turrets and gables and mullioned windows, as to make it appear more like the retreat of a wealthy gentleman than a house of public entertainment. ”

“ They sat together until sunrise, and Margaret fell asleep in her lover's arms. Lives there the man who has not enjoyed some such heavenly minutes as these? Philip tasted then the most perfect happiness in his life.
When the sun rose, the storm cleared away. Margaret awoke, and sighed and blushed, and looked tenderly at Philip, and Mr. Hart found something so interesting at his window that he was compelled to keep his back to them. They forgave the rudeness; and presently came also to the window, and looked out upon a glorious sight. The skies were glowing with grand colour. ”

“ The mantelpiece was of deal, covered with baize, and in the very centre was Margaret's picture, smiling demurely at you; and it deeply touched the living Margaret to see her picture garlanded with fresh green leaves and a few simple wild flowers. On either side of the picture were pipes and two or three dandy gimcracks which Philip had brought away with him from Cambridge. The bed was a stretcher, with an innocent-looking white counterpane covering its imperfections--covering also a life-preserver and a revolver, which Philip had put out of sight, for fear of frightening his girl. ”

“ And Margaret felt humbled and abashed as she listened to the noble outburst, and even as she listened she debated within herself whether she should plunge the dagger of doubt into his heart.
"We should change places," she said; "you are younger than I. I am old, calculating, unbelieving; you are young and trustful. Ah, if men and women were all like you, how much better and happier the world would be! Where you see cause for joy, I see cause for sorrow. ”

“ To hesitate with such a man is to be lost. Mr. Hart hesitated.
"Come and see them," said the shopkeeper, and did not wait for acquiescence in words, but led the way.
They followed him, like sheep. There was magnetism in the man. He would make you buy a thing if you did not want it. That you did not want it did not matter to him; he had it to sell. To sell it was his business; and in his business he, as a representative man, beat the world.
Mr. Hart and Margaret walked through the shop, the shelves of which bent beneath the weight of ready-made clothes, up a flight of stairs to the first floor. ”

“ Weston before to-day?"
"No, Margaret," was Lucy's answer. "What makes you ask?"
"Something in your face--that's all."
There was something in Lucy's face while these few words were being uttered--a blush, which quickly died out, leaving her paler than before. Margaret instantly began putting two and two together. An easy task, some of you may think. You are much mistaken. It is a task which requires, and often defies, abstruse calculation, and where a man will succeed in it once, a woman will succeed a hundred times. ”

“ I came to the door to keep guard, so that no one should disturb them."
"Then I am the happiest man and the happiest father in Christendom! Why, Margaret, if I had been asked which man in all the wide world I should wish my daughter to marry, I should select the very man who has won her heart! God bless them! Now, indeed, my mind is at rest, and I care not what happens to me. My business with the world is over. All is well with Lucy. We shall see the roses on her cheeks again, my dear--we shall! Kiss me, Margaret, and wish me joy." ”

“ Weston, in a low tone of fear, addressing himself to Mr. Rowe.
Reuben Thorne heard the words, and before Mr. Rowe could speak, himself replied:
"No, faith; it is I who have been dreaming--dreaming for many years. Life is a dream; and death!--but we will not speak of that. Live and learn, they say. Let us correct the maxim. Die and learn, is infinitely truer, as all men will find. If we could live and unlearn, it would be better for us. 'Tis a conflict, from the cradle to the grave--heart against head. And head wins, the rule is. Men would be happier were it otherwise. ”

“ The attendants in the room preserved silence while their superiors were conversing. They stood in their places like statues.
"And we fret ourselves so unwisely," continued Mr. Rowe, with something of a wary look towards Mr. Weston. "We torture ourselves so unnecessarily. Instead of enjoying the opportunities which good fortune has placed in our hands, we bring unhappiness upon ourselves by setting our minds upon the accomplishment of certain wishes which we deem to be good, notwithstanding that they distinctly clash with the hopes of those who are dearest to us. We forget that life is short. ”

“ Gideon Rowe, at sixty-five years of age, was a pleasant, even-tempered, good-looking gentleman, straight as an arrow, with a clear eye and a wholesome colour in his face--caught, mayhap, from some of his famous apples--and with every probability of twenty more good years before him. He was a man of independent property, and he carried on the business of the Silver Flagon as much for pleasure and occupation as for profit. ”

“ Hart also, he was out of hearing of this gossip. Margaret led him into the air, and the first persons they saw were Lucy and Gerald strolling toward the house. Mr. Hart's mind was thrown off its balance by grief and passion. He tore Lucy from Gerald's arm, and cried:
"Gerald Weston, are you a coward or a villain?"
"Mr. Hart!" exclaimed Gerald, confounded by this startling address.
"Dear friend," entreated Margaret, "be calm."
Lucy looked imploringly from one to the other.
"No more fair words," cried Mr. Hart; "I have had enough of them! Honesty has died out of the world." ”

“ Looking back, as we can look back, upon the lives of those to whom the money was left, to what one of all those who are dead can it be said to have brought happiness? To some it brought a curse. Too well do we know the story of those two hapless ones, Caroline and Edward, whom it drove to an early grave. Left to the absolute guardianship of a man whose heart was stone, those orphans met and loved. In all human calculation, no lot in life could be happier than that of these lovers would have been had they married. ”

“ The bricklayer who could only earn thirty shillings a week in England, might have become a ruler of men.
The scene, altogether, that was to be witnessed day and night on the Margaret Reef was such as never can be witnessed in an old country. In civilised countries men seem to go about their work with a sadness upon them, and as if they were labouring under some kind of oppression. In such-like places as I am describing, men rise in the morning and set about their work with smiles and vigour, and hearty cheerfulness. ”

“ Besides, think of the money Margaret herself is saving----"
"That for the money!" said Philip, with a snap of his fingers. "Money-making's a man's business, not a woman's."
"That's true, and I like you the better for saying so. But leaving Margaret out of the question, there are persons in our company the happiness of whose life hangs upon their being able to save a certain amount of money within a certain time. Not only their happiness but the happiness of helpless ones who are dearer to them than their heart's blood, depends upon this." ”

“ He was aware of the responsible position he occupied, and he settled with himself that in the event of the stranger pushing Mr. Weston into the water, the first thing for him to do would be to run away and cry, "Fire!"
"Take my hand," the stranger said, in a sad sweet tone. They joined hands, and the hand-clasp was reflected in the brook. "Why cannot it be? It is not always that the words which make a friendship are as intangible as the shadowy semblance of it which we see before us. Words are not all air--spoken, forgotten, lost for ever. Why cannot it be? ”