The Measure of a Man - Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (tools of titans ebook txt) 📗

that Lucy is just the wife Harry needs. And they have two fine little lads. I wish the eldest--called Stephen after my father--was my own son. I do that!"

"Nay, my dear. There's no need for such a wish. There are sons and daughters for Hatton, no doubt of that. Thy little Martha is very dear to my heart."

"To mine also, mother."

"Then be thankful--and patient. I'm going upstairs to get a letter I want posted. Will you take it to the mail for me?"

Then Mrs. Hatton left the room and John looked wistfully after her. "It is always so," he thought. "If I name children, she goes. What does it mean?"

He looked inquiringly into his mother's face when she returned and she smiled cheerfully back, but it was with the face of an angry woman she watched him to the gate, muttering words she would not have spoken had there been anyone to hear them nearby. And John's attitude was one of uncertain trouble. He carried himself intentionally with a lofty bearing, but in spite of all his efforts to appear beyond care, he was evidently in the grip of some unknown sorrow.

That it was unknown was in a large degree the core of his anxiety. He had noticed for a long time that his mother was apparently very unsympathetic when his wife was suffering from violent attacks of sickness which made her physician tread softly and look grave, and that even Jane's mother, though she nursed her daughter carefully, was reticent and exceedingly nervous. _What could it mean?_

He had just passed through an experience of this kind, and as he thought of Jane and her suffering the hurry of anxious love made him quicken his steps and he went rapidly home, so rapidly that he forgot the letter with which he had been intrusted. He knew by the light in Jane's room that she was awake and he hastened there. She was evidently watching and listening for his coming, for as soon as the door was partly open, she half-rose from the couch on which she was lying and stretched out her arms to him.

In an instant he was kneeling at her side. "My darling," he whispered. "My darling! Are you better?"

"I am quite out of pain, John, only a little weak. In a few days I shall be all right." But John, looking into the white face that had once been so radiant, only faintly admitted the promise of a few days putting all right.

"I have been lonely today dear, so lonely! My mother did not come, and Mother Hatton has not even sent to ask whether I was alive or dead."

"Yet she is very unhappy about your condition. Jane, my darling Jane! What is it that induces these attacks? Does your medical man know?"

"If so, he does not tell me. I am a little to blame this time, John. On the afternoon I was taken sick, I went in the carriage to the village. I ought not to have gone. I was far from feeling well, and as soon as I reached the market-house, I met two men helping a wounded girl to the hospital. Do you remember, John?"

"I remember. Her hand was caught in some machinery and torn a good deal. I sent the men with her to the village."

"While I was speaking to her, Mrs. Mark Levy drove up. She insisted on taking what she called 'the poor victim' to the hospital in her carriage; and before I could interfere the two men lifted the girl into Mrs. Levy's carriage and they were off like lightning without a word to me. I was so angry. I turned sick and faint and was obliged to come home as quickly as possible and send for Dr. Sewell."

"O Jane! Why did you care?"

"I was shocked by that woman's interference."

"She meant it kindly. I suppose----"

"But what right had she to meddle with your hands? If the girl required to be taken in a carriage to the hospital, there was my carriage. I think that incident helped to make me sick."

"You should have lifted the injured girl at once, Jane, and then Mrs. Levy would have had no opportunity to take your place."

"She is such an interfering woman. Her fingers are in everyone's way and really, John, she has got the charitable affairs of Hatton town in her hands. The girls' clubs rely on her for everything, and she gives without any consideration, John. How much is her husband worth? Is he very rich? She appears to have no end of money--and John, dear, she is always in my way. I don't know how she manages it, but she is. I wish you would get them out of our town, dear."

"I cannot, Jane. Levy is a large property-owner. He is not indigent. He is not lazy. He is not in any way immoral. He has become a large taxpayer, and has of late political aspirations. He annoys me frequently, but money is now everything. And he has money--plenty of it. Until he came, we were the richest family in Hatton. Father and I have really built Hatton. We have spent thousands of pounds in making it a model community, but we have received little gratitude. I think, Jane, that men have more respect for those who _make_ money, than for those who _give it away_."

"You don't like Mr. Levy, do you, John?"

"He annoys me very frequently. It is not easy to like people who do that."

"His wife annoys me. Cannot we make up some plan to put them down a peg or two?"

"We can do nothing against them, my dear."

"Why, John?"

"Because 'God beholdeth mischief and spite to requite it.' And after all, these Levys are only trying to win public respect and that by perfectly honorable means. True they are pushing, but no one can push Yorkshire men and women beyond their own opinions and their own interests. In the meantime, they are helpful to the town."

"Mrs. Swale, of Woodleigh, told me she had heard that Mrs. Levy came from the Lake District and is a Christian. Do you believe that, John?"

"Not for a minute. Mr. Levy is a Hebrew of long and honorable descent. His family came from Spain to England in the time of Henry the Seventh. Such Jews never marry Christian women. I do not believe either love or money could make them do it. I have no doubt that Mrs. Levy has a family record as ancient and as honorable as her husband's. She is a kind-hearted woman and really handsome. She has four beautiful sons. I tell you, Jane, when she stands in the midst of them she is a sight worth looking at."

Jane laughed scornfully, and Jane's husband continued with decided emotion, "Yes, indeed, when you see Mrs. Levy with her four sons you see a woman in her noblest attribute. You see her as _the mother of men_."

"What is Mr. Levy's business? Who knows?"

"Everyone in Hatton knows that he is an importer of Spanish wines and fine tobaccos."

"Oh! The ladies generally thought he was a money lender."

"He may be--it is not unlikely."

"Mrs. Swale said so."

"I dare say Mrs. Swale's husband knows."

"Well, John, the Levys cannot touch me. The Harlows have been in Yorkshire before the Romans came and my family is not only old, it is noble, or John Hatton would not have married me."

"John Hatton would have married you if you had been a beggar-maid. There is no woman in the world to him, but his own sweet Jane." Then Jane took his hands and kissed them, and there was a few moments of most eloquent silence--a silence just touched with happy tears.

John spoke first. "Jane, my darling," he said, "do you think a few months in the south would do you good? If you could lie out in the warm breeze and the sunshine--if you were free of all these little social worries--if you took your mother with you--if you----"

"John, my dear one, I have an invitation from Lady Harlow to spend a few weeks with her. Surrey is much warmer than Yorkshire. I might go there."

"Yes," answered John, but his voice was reluctant and dissenting, and in a few moments he said, "There is little Martha--could you take her with you?"

"Oh dear me! What would be the good of my going away to rest, if I drag a child with me? You know Martha is spoiled and wilful."

"Is she? I am sorry to hear that. She would, however, have her maid, and she is now nearly three years old."

"It would be useless for me to go away, unless I go alone. I suggested Surrey because I thought you could come to see me every Saturday."

The little compliment pleased John, and he answered, "You shall do just as you wish, darling! I would give up everything to see you look as you used to look."

"You are always harping on that one string, John. It is only four years since we were married. Have I become an old woman in four years?"

"No, but you have become a sick woman. I want you to be well and strong."

Then she lay back on her pillows, and as she closed her eyes some quick, hot tears were on her white face, and John kissed them away, and with a troubled heart, uncertain and unhappy, he bid her good night.

Nothing in the interview had comforted or enlightened him, but there was that measure of the Divine spirit in John Hatton, which enabled him to _rise above_ what he could not _go through_. He had found even from his boyhood that for the chasms of life wings had been provided and that he could mount heaven-high by such help and bring back strength for every hour of need. And he was comforted by the word that came to him, and he fell asleep to the little antiphony he held with his own soul:

O Lord how happy is the time--

* * * * *
When from my weariness I climb,
Close to thy tender breast.

* * * * *

For there abides a peace of Thine,
Man did not make, and cannot mar.

* * * * *

Perfect I call Thy plan,
I trust what Thou shalt do.

And in some way and through some intelligence he was counseled as he slept, in two words--_Mark Sewell_. And he wondered that he had not thought of his wife's physician before. Yet there was little need to wonder. He was always at the mill when Doctor Sewell paid his visit, and he took simply and reliably whatever Mrs. Harlow and Jane confided to him. But when he awoke in the misty daylight, the echo of the two words he