"Me!" exclaimed Jenny, in so astounded a tone as to remind Featherstone that he was beginning his story at the wrong end.

"Oh, of course you know not," he said, a little put out, for his speech had been carefully studied, though he had forgotten the peroration, "that His Majesty is Will Jackson. I mean, Will Jackson was His Majesty. At least--"

"Are you quite sure you know what you do mean, Mr Featherstone?"

demanded Tom. "Sounds as if you'd got a bit mixed up, like. Is it the King you've seen, or is't Will Jackson?"

Tom rather suspected that Featherstone was not quite sober. But he was, though between annoyance and self-exaltation he was behaving rather oddly.

"Look here!" he said angrily, holding out the diamond clasp. "Was Will Jackson like to give me such as this for Mrs Jenny? I tell you, His Majesty the King gave it me with his own hand."

Suddenly Tom's conscience spoke. "Are you acting like a Christian man, Tom Fenton?" it said. "Have you any right to work Featherstone up into a pa.s.sion, however foolish he may have been? Is that charitable? is it Christ-like?"

"Very good, Mr Featherstone," said Tom quietly.

"I ask your pardon, and I'll relieve you of my company. Good night-- Good night, Jenny."

Jenny could have cried with disappointment. She was afraid that Tom was vexed with her, and wholly unwilling to be left to the society of Featherstone. As to the diamond buckle, she did not half believe the story. Tom's action, however, had its effect upon Featherstone.

"Don't you believe me, Mrs Jenny?" he said more gently. "I doubt I've made a mess of my story, but 'tis really true. Will Jackson was the King himself in disguise, and he bade me bring that to you, and tell you that he entirely agreed with you that Will was an ill-looking fellow."

When Jenny really understood the truth, she was overwhelmed. Was it possible that she had actually told King Charles to his face that she considered him ugly? Of course she was pleased with the gift in itself, and with his kindly pardon of her impertinence.

"But, eh dear!" she said, turning round the clasp, which flashed and glistened as it was moved, "such as this isn't fit for the likes of me!"

Farmer Lavender was exceedingly pleased to see the clasp and hear its story, and in his exultation gave Featherstone a general invitation to "turn in and see them whenever he'd a mind."

"Why, Jenny!" cried Kate, "you'll have to hand that down to your grandchildren!"

Jenny only smiled faintly as she went upstairs. She liked the clasp, and she liked the gracious feeling which had sent it; but what really occupied her more than either was a distressed fear that she had offended Tom Fenton. He never came to the farm now. The only hope she had of seeing him lay in an accidental meeting.

Sunday came, and Jenny dressed herself in the flowered tabby, tying her tippet this time with blue ribbons. When she came into the kitchen ready to go to church, her sister's eyes scanned her rather curiously.

"Why, Jenny, where's your clasp?"

"What clasp?" asked Jenny innocently. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

"What clasp!" repeated Kate, with a burst of laughter. "Why, the clasp King Charles sent you, for sure. Have you got so many diamond clasps you can't tell which it is?"

"Oh!--Why, Kate, I couldn't put it on."

"What for no? If a King sent me a diamond, I'd put it on, you take my word for it!--ay, and where it'd show too."

"I'd rather not," said Jenny in a low voice. "Not for church, anyhow."

"Going to save it for your wedding-day?" Jenny felt very little inclined for jests; the rather since she was beginning to feel extremely doubtful if she would ever have any wedding-day at all. She felt instinctively that a jewel such as King Charles's clasp was not fit for her to wear. Tom would not like to see it, she well knew; he detested anything which looked like ostentation. And, perhaps, Christ would not like it too. Would it not interfere with the wearing of that other ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, with which He desired His handmaidens to adorn themselves? Jenny resolved that she would not put on the clasp.

"No, Kate, I shouldn't like to wear it," she said quietly. "I've got it put by safe, and you can see it whenever you have a mind: but it's best there."

"Thou'rt right, my la.s.s," said old Mrs Lavender.

"Well, I shouldn't like you to lose it, of course," admitted Kate.

Jenny fancied, and with a heavy heart, that Tom carefully avoided speaking to her in the churchyard. Old Anthony and Persis had a kind word for her, but though Tom went away in their company, carrying his aunt's books, he never came up to speak with Jenny. It distressed her the more because Kate said afterwards:

"Have you had words with Tom Fenton, Jenny? I asked him if he'd a grudge against you, that he never spoke."

"What did he say?" asked Jenny quickly.

"He didn't say neither yea nor nay," answered Kate, laughing.

The afternoon brought several young people, and there was, as usual, plenty of mirth and chatter. Jenny felt utterly out of tune for it, and slipped out of the back door into the lane. She went slowly up, feeling very low-spirited, and wondering what G.o.d was going to do with her.

When she came to the gate of the bean-field--the place where Tom had overtaken her a few evenings before--she stopped, and resting her arms upon the gate, watched the sun sinking slowly to the west. Thinking herself quite alone, she said aloud, sorrowfully--"Oh dear! I wonder if I've never done anything but make mistakes all my life!"

"Ay, we made one the other night, didn't we?" said a voice behind her.

Jenny kept her start to herself.

"Yes, we did, Tom," she replied soberly.

"I've made a many afore now," said Tom gravely.

"Not so many as me," answered Jenny, sorrowfully.

"Tell me your biggest, Jenny, and you shall hear mine."

"There's no doubt of that, Tom. The biggest mistake ever I made was when I fancied G.o.d's service was all gloom and dismalness."

"Right you are, Jenny. That's about the biggest anybody can make. But what was the second, now?"

"Oh look, Tom, those, lovely colours!" cried Jenny, suddenly seized with a fervent admiration for the sunset. "Them red streaks over the gold, and the purple away yonder--isn't it beautiful?"

"It is, indeed. But that second mistake, Jenny?"

"Nay, I was to hear your biggest, you know," said Jenny slily.

"Well, Jenny, the biggest mistake ever I made, next after that biggest of all that you spoke of just now--was to fancy that I could forget Jenny Lavender, my old love."

Two hours afterwards, the door of old Anthony's cottage opened about an inch.

"Uncle Anthony, are you there?"

"Ay, lad. Come in, Tom."

"Don't want to come in. I only want to tell you that the Lord's given me back the greatest thing I ever gave up for Him."

Old Anthony understood in a moment.

"Ay so, Tom? I'm fain for thee. And thou'lt be glad all thy life long, my lad, that thou waited for the Lord to give it thee, and didn't s.n.a.t.c.h it like out of His hand. We're oft like children, that willn't wait till the fruit be ripe, but makes theirselves ill by eating it green.

And when folks does that, there's no great pleasure in the eating, and a deal of pain at after."