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contentment and tranquillity from the influences of nature, unspoilt by contact with the busier and wearier world. ā€˜Passon Waldenā€™sā€™ wedding-day was the chief great historic event of its conscious life. For on that never-to-be- forgotten and glorious occasion, the tenantry of Abbotā€™s Manor, together with all the villagers and the school-children were entertained at an open-air festival and dance, which lasted all the afternoon and evening, on the broad smooth greensward encircling the famous ā€˜Five Sisterā€™ beeches where bride and bridegroom had looked upon each other for the first time. What a high tide of simple revelry it was to be sure! Never had the delicate tremulous green foliage of the rescued trees waved over a happier scene. ā€˜Many a kiss both odd and evenā€™ was exchanged among lads and lasses at that blithe merry-making,ā€”even Cicely and Julian Adderley were not always to be found when they were wanted, having taken to ā€˜composing music and poetry together,ā€™ which no doubt quite accounted for their long rambles together away from all the rest of the merry crowd. Mrs. Spruce, with a circle of her gossips round her, sat talking the whole livelong day on the ā€˜ways oā€™ the Lord beinā€™ past findinā€™ out.ā€™

ā€œFor,ā€ said she, ā€œwhen Miss Maryllia first come ā€˜ome she ā€˜adnā€™t an idee oā€™ goinā€™ to hear Passon Walden, anā€™ sez I ā€˜do-ee go anā€™ hear ā€˜im,ā€™ anā€™ she sezā€”ā€˜No, Spruce, I cannot, I donā€™t believe in itā€™ā€” anā€™ I sez to myself, ā€˜never mind, the Lord ā€˜e knows ā€˜is own, which He do, but ā€˜ard as are His ways I never did think Heā€™d aā€™ brought her to be Passonā€™s wife,ā€”that do beat me, though itā€™s just what it should be, anā€™ if the Lord donā€™t know what should be why then no one donā€™t, anā€™ that ā€˜minds me oā€™ when I sent for Passon to see me unpack Miss Marylliaā€™s boxes, he was that careful he made me pick up a pair oā€™ pink shoes what ā€˜ad fell on the floorā€”ā€˜Take care oā€™ them,ā€™ he sezā€”Lor!ā€”now I come to think of it, he was mortal struck over them pink shoes!ā€

And Bainton commenting on general events observed:ā€”

ā€œWell, I did say once that if Passon were married heā€™d be a fine man spoilt, but Iā€™ve altered my mind now! I think heā€™s a fine man full growed at last, like a plant whatā€™s stopped a bit anā€™ suddenly takes a start anā€™ begins to flower. Anā€™ so far as my own line goes, if Missis Walden, bless ā€˜er, comes round me talkinā€™ about the rectory garden, which is to be kepā€™ up just the same as ever, anā€™ fusses like over the lilac bush what he broke a piece off of for her, well!ā€”I DID say Iā€™d never ā€˜ave a petticut round MY workā€”but a pretty petticutā€™s worth looking at, it is reely now!ā€

So the harmless chatter among the village folks went on, and the feasting, dancing and singing lasted long. Chief of important personages among all that gathered under the old beech-trees was Josey Letherbarrow,ā€”very feeble,ā€”very dim of eye, but stout of heart and firm of opinion as ever. Beside him sat Bishop Brent,ā€” with Walden himself and his bride,ā€”for from his venerable hands Maryllia had sought the first blessing on her marriage as soon as the wedding ceremony had ended.

ā€œEverythingā€™s all right if weā€™ll only believe it!ā€ he said now, looking with a wistful tenderness from one to the otherā€”ā€œLifeā€™s all rightā€”deathā€™s all right! Iā€™m sartin sure Iā€™ll find everything just as Iā€™ve hoped anā€™ prayed forā€™t when I gets to thā€™ other side oā€™ this world, for Iā€™ve ā€˜ad my ā€˜artā€™s best wish given to me when all ā€˜ope seemed overā€”anā€™ that was to see Squireā€™s gel ā€˜appy! Anā€™ she IS ā€˜appy!ā€”look at ā€˜er, as fresh as a little rose all smilinā€™ anā€™ ready to bloom on ā€˜er husbandā€™s lovinā€™ ā€˜art! Ah! Thā€™ owld Squire would aā€™ been proud to see ā€˜em this bright day! And as for the Lord Aā€™mighty He knows what Heā€™s about I tell ye!ā€ and Josey nodded his head with great sagacityā€”ā€œSome folks think He donā€™tā€”but He do!ā€

The Bishop smiled.

ā€œVerily I have not found so great a faithā€”no, not in Israel!ā€ā€”he murmured, as presently he rose and strolled away by himself for a while to muse and meditate. Towards sunset Walden, going in search of him found him in the rose garden, looking at the profuse red clusters of bloom in the old French damask border.

ā€œHow they smile openly to the sun!ā€ he said, pointing to them, as John approachedā€”ā€œLike love!ā€”or faith!ā€

John was silent a moment. Then he said suddenlyā€”

ā€œAre you going over to Rome, Harry?ā€

ā€œNo!ā€ And Brentā€™s eyes looked full into those of his friend, straightly and steadfastly. ā€œNot now. I will do the work appointed for me to the end!ā€

ā€œThank God!ā€ said Walden, simply. And their hands met in a close grasp, thereby sealing a wordless compact, never to be broken.

The sun sank and the moon began to rise. Song and dance gradually ceased, and the happy villagers began to disperse, and wend their ways homeward. Love was in the airā€”love breathed in the perfume of the flowersā€”love tuned the throats of the passionate nightingales that warbled out their mating songs in every hazel copse and from ever acacia bough in the Manor woods, and love seemed, as the poet says, to ā€˜sit astride oā€™ the moonā€™ as its silver orb peered over the gables of the Manor itself and poured a white shower of glory on the sweet face and delicate form of Maryllia, as she stood in the old Tudor courtyard, now a veritable wilderness of flowers, with her husbandā€™s arm round her, listening to the faint far-off singing of the villagers returning to their homes through the scented green lanes.

ā€œEveryone has been happy to-day!ā€ she said, looking up with a smile- -ā€œAll the world around us seems to thank God!ā€

ā€œAll the world would thank Him if it could but find what we have found!ā€ answered John, drawing her close to his heartā€”ā€œAll it wants, all it needs, both for itself and others, for this world and the next, is simplyā€”Love!ā€

THE END

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