"Tchah! don't call him old," cried the Churchwarden. Then calming down after a whiff or two of his pipe, "Luke Ross will be down here to-morrow afternoon as sure as a gun. Eh? Why, Sage, my gal, I didn't see you there."

"Did--did I hear you aright, uncle?" she said, faintly. "Is old Mr Ross ill?"

"Very ill, my dear," said the Churchwarden, sternly, "and Luke Ross is coming down to see him, I should say."

PART THREE, CHAPTER TEN.

DOWN AT LAWFORD.

Portlock was right in saying that Luke would be down the next day, for, reproaching himself for his neglect of his father, he hastened down to find him somewhat recovered from the sudden attack that had prostrated him, and the old man's face lit up as his son entered the room.

"Yes, my boy, better; yes, I'm better," he said, feebly; "but it can't be for long, Luke; it can't be for long. I'm very, very glad you have come."

"But you are better," said Luke; "and good spirits have so much to do with recovery."

"Well, yes, my boy, yes," said the old man; "and the sight of you again seems to have given me strength. You won't go back again yet, Luke?"

"I was going back to-morrow, father," he said; "but," he added, on seeing the look of disappointment in the old man's face, "I will stay a little longer."

"Do, my boy, do," cried the old man; "and when I go off to sleep, as I shall soon--I sleep a great deal now, my boy--go and look round, and say a word to our neighbours. I often talk to them about you, Luke, and tell them that though you have grown to be a great man you are not a bit proud, and I should like them to see that you are not."

"That is soon done," said Luke, laughing. "Why should I be proud?"

"Oh, you might be, my boy, but you are not. Go and have a chat with Tomlinson and Fullerton. And, Luke, if you wouldn't mind, when you are that way, I'd go in and see Humphrey Bone."

"Is he still master?" said Luke, thoughtfully, as the old days came vividly back.

"No, my boy, not for these two years; and he's quite laid by. An old man before his time, Luke, and it is the drink that has done it. I don't judge him hardly though, for we never know what another's weakness has been, and it is not for us to sit in judgment upon our brother's faults. Will you go and see him, Luke?"

"I will, father," said the younger man, smiling and feeling refreshed, after his arduous daily toil and study of man's greed, rapacity, and sin, with the simple, innocent kindness of his father's heart.

"That does me good, my boy, indeed it does," said the old man, pathetically; and he held his son's hand against his true old breast.

"I'm very sorry for a great deal that I have done, my boy, and I like to see you growing up free from many of the weaknesses and hard ways that have been mine. What I am obliged to leave undone, Luke, I want you to do, for my time is very short, and I often lie here and think that I should like to go before the Master feeling that I had tried to do my best, and taught you, my boy, according to such knowledge of good as in me lay."

"My dear old father!" cried Luke, tenderly; and the hard, worldly crust that was gathering upon him seemed to melt away as he leaned over and carefully smoothed and turned the old man's pillow with all the gentleness of a woman's hand. "Why, what is it?" he said, as the old man uttered quite a sob, and the weak tears gathered in his eyes.

"Nothing, my boy, it is nothing," he said. "It only made me think of thirty years ago, when I was ill, and your mother used to turn my pillow like that--just like that, my boy--and you are so much like her, Luke; and as I lie here, a worn-out, trembling old man, and you come down-- you, my boy, who have grown so great, and who, they tell me, will some day be Queen's Counsel, and perhaps Attorney-General, and then a Judge, such a great man as you've become, Luke--I lie here thinking that you can come down and tend to me like this, it makes me thank G.o.d that I have such a son."

"Why, what have I done more than any other son would do? And as to becoming great, what nonsense!"

"But it isn't nonsense, Luke, my boy," quavered the old man. "I've heard all about it; and, Luke, when you are Queen's Counsel, nay boy, give her good advice, for kings and queens have much to answer for, and I should like her--G.o.d bless her!--to have a very long and happy reign."

"Indeed I will, father," said Luke, laughing, "if ever it falls to my lot to be her adviser. But there, you are getting too much excited.

Suppose you try and have a nap?"

"I will, my boy, I will, and you'll go round town a bit, and walk up and see the parson. He'll be strange and glad to see thee, and if you see Mrs Cyril, say a kind word to the poor soul; she's been very good to me, my boy, and comes and sits and talks to me a deal. Don't think about the past, my boy, but about the future. Let's try and do all the kindness we can, Luke, while we are here. Life is very short, my boy--a very, very little span."

"Father," said Luke, bending over the old man's pillow, "for your sake and your kindly words, I'll do the best I can."

"Thank you, my boy, G.o.d bless you, I know you will," said the old man.

"For life is so short, Luke, my son. Good-bye, my boy. Do all the good you can. I'm going to sleep now. G.o.d bless you, good-bye."

He closed his eyes, and drew a long breath, dropping off at once into a calm and restful slumber, Luke staying by his side for a while.

Then taking out a blue official-looking doc.u.ment from his pocket, he looked at it for a few moments before replacing it in his breast.

"Poor old man!" he said, softly. "I wish I had told him what I was about to do, it would have pleased him to know."

He got up and went softly down-stairs, to pause for a few minutes in the homely, comfortably furnished room with its well-polished furniture, every k.n.o.b and handle seeming like familiar friends. There was his father's seat, his mother's, and the little Windsor arm-chair that had been his own, religiously preserved, and kept as bright as beeswax and st.u.r.dy country hands could make it.

"He has gone off to sleep," Luke said to the matronly housekeeper, who never ventured to speak to him without a curtsey.

"No, Mr Luke, sir--I mean yes, Mr Luke, sir, I'll keep going up and peeping at him, and take him his beef tea when he wakens. Your coming, sir, begging your pardon for taking the liberty of saying so, sir, have done him a power of good."

Luke smiled and nodded--"so condescending and kind-like," the woman afterwards told a neighbour--and walked out across the marketplace, stopping to shake hands here and there with the tradesmen who came to their doors, and at last making his way down towards the schools.

"They seem to esteem me a very great gun," he said, half in jest, half bitterly, as he walked slowly on, pa.s.sing men whom he remembered as boys, and responding constantly to the salutations he received.

He had not intended to go that way, thinking he would send his missive over to Kilby by post, and asking himself why he had not mentioned the matter to Portlock as he drove him in that day; but somehow his footsteps turned in the direction of the farm, and he had nearly reached the turning indelibly marked in his memory as the one along which he had come that cruel eve, when suddenly a merry shout from a childish voice fell upon his ear.

He did not know why it should, but it seemed to thrill him as he went on, to come in sight of two bright, golden-haired little girls, each with her pinky fingers full of flowers, and her chubby face flushed with exercise.

They stopped and gazed at him for a moment, and then ran back.

"I'm not one whom young folks take to," he said, bitterly; and then his heart seemed to stand still, for he saw them run up to a pale, graceful-looking woman, who bent down, and evidently said something to the children, both of whom hesitated for a moment, and then came running back.

"Sage," he said to himself, as he involuntarily stopped short. "How changed!"

Then, as he saw the children approach, an involuntary feeling of repugnance came over him, and his heart seemed to shrink from the encounter.

_His_ children. So pretty, but with a something in their innocent faces that reminded him terribly of their father.

He would have turned back, but he was spell-bound, and the next moment the little things were at his side, the elder to take his hand and kiss it, saying in her silvery, childish voice--

"I can't reach to kiss you more, for being so good to poor mamma."

"And I'll dive you my fowers, Mitter Luke," said the other little thing.

"Sagey pick all hertelf."

An agony of shame, of love, of regret and pleasure commingled seemed to sweep across Luke Ross, as, with convulsed face, he went down on one knee in the road and caught the little ones to his breast.

"My darlings!" he cried, hoa.r.s.ely, as he kissed them pa.s.sionately.

Then, with his eyes blinded by the hot tears of agony, he caught the blue envelope from his breast and pressed it into the youngest little one's hands.

"Take it to mamma, my child, and say Luke Ross prays that it may make her happy."