Cousin Phillis (15 page)

'They will want me to lay bare my heart. I cannot do it. Paul, stay
with me. They mean well; but as for spiritual help at such a time—it
is God only, God only, who can give it.

So I went in with him. They were two ministers from the neighbourhood;
both older than Ebenezer Holman; but evidently inferior to him in
education and worldly position. I thought they looked at me as if I
were an intruder, but remembering the minister's words I held my
ground, and took up one of poor Phillis's books (of which I could not
read a word) to have an ostensible occupation. Presently I was asked to
'engage in prayer', and we all knelt down; Brother Robinson 'leading',
and quoting largely as I remember from the Book of Job. He seemed to
take for his text, if texts are ever taken for prayers,

'Behold thou hast instructed many; but now it is come upon thee, and
thou faintest, it toucheth thee and thou art troubled.' When we others
rose up, the minister continued for some minutes on his knees. Then he
too got up, and stood facing us, for a moment, before we all sate down
in conclave. After a pause Robinson began,—

'We grieve for you, Brother Holman, for your trouble is great. But we
would fain have you remember you are as a light set on a hill; and the
congregations are looking at you with watchful eyes. We have been
talking as we came along on the two duties required of you in this
strait; Brother Hodgson and me. And we have resolved to exhort you on
these two points. First, God has given you the opportunity of showing
forth an example of resignation.' Poor Mr Holman visibly winced at this
word. I could fancy how he had tossed aside such brotherly preachings
in his happier moments; but now his whole system was unstrung, and
'resignation' seemed a term which presupposed that the dreaded misery
of losing Phillis was inevitable. But good stupid Mr Robinson went on.
'We hear on all sides that there are scarce any hopes of your child's
recovery; and it may be well to bring you to mind of Abraham; and how
he was willing to kill his only child when the Lord commanded. Take
example by him, Brother Holman. Let us hear you say, "The Lord giveth
and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord!"'

There was a pause of expectancy. I verily believe the minister tried to
feel it; but he could not. Heart of flesh was too strong. Heart of
stone he had not.

'I will say it to my God, when He gives me strength,—when the day
comes,' he spoke at last.

The other two looked at each other, and shook their heads. I think the
reluctance to answer as they wished was not quite unexpected. The
minister went on 'There are vet' he said, as if to himself. 'God has
given me a great heart for hoping, and I will not look forward beyond
the hour.' Then turning more to them,—and speaking louder, he added:
'Brethren, God will strengthen me when the time comes, when such
resignation as you speak of is needed. Till then I cannot feel it; and
what I do not feel I will not express; using words as if they were a
charm.' He was getting chafed, I could see. He had rather put them out
by these speeches of his; but after a short time and some more shakes
of the head, Robinson began again,—

'Secondly, we would have you listen to the voice of the rod, and ask
yourself for what sins this trial has been laid upon you; whether you
may not have been too much given up to your farm and your cattle;
whether this world's learning has not puffed you up to vain conceit and
neglect of the things of God; whether you have not made an idol of your
daughter?'

'I cannot answer—I will not answer'.' exclaimed the minister. 'My sins
I confess to God. But if they were scarlet (and they are so in His
sight),' he added, humbly, 'I hold with Christ that afflictions are not
sent by God in wrath as penalties for sin.'

'Is that orthodox, Brother Robinson?' asked the third minister, in a
deferential tone of inquiry.

Despite the minister's injunction not to leave him, I thought matters
were getting so serious that a little homely interruption would be more
to the purpose than my continued presence, and I went round to the
kitchen to ask for Betty's help.

"Od rot 'em!' said she; 'they're always a-coming at ill-convenient
times; and they have such hearty appetites, they'll make nothing of
what would have served master and you since our poor lass has been ill.
I've but a bit of cold beef in th' house; but I'll do some ham and
eggs, and that 'll rout 'em from worrying the minister. They're a deal
quieter after they've had their victual. Last time as old Robinson
came, he was very reprehensible upon master's learning, which he
couldn't compass to save his life, so he needn't have been afeard of
that temptation, and used words long enough to have knocked a body
down; but after me and missus had given him his fill of victual, and
he'd had some good ale and a pipe, he spoke just like any other man,
and could crack a joke with me.'

Their visit was the only break in the long weary days and nights. I do
not mean that no other inquiries were made. I believe that all the
neighbours hung about the place daily till they could learn from some
out-comer how Phillis Holman was. But they knew better than to come up
to the house, for the August weather was so hot that every door and
window was kept constantly open, and the least sound outside penetrated
all through. I am sure the cocks and hens had a sad time of it; for
Betty drove them all into an empty barn, and kept them fastened up in
the dark for several days, with very little effect as regarded their
crowing and clacking. At length came a sleep which was the crisis, and
from which she wakened up with a new faint life. Her slumber had lasted
many, many hours. We scarcely dared to breathe or move during the time;
we had striven to hope so long, that we were sick at heart, and durst
not trust in the favourable signs: the even breathing, the moistened
skin, the slight return of delicate colour into the pale, wan lips. I
recollect stealing out that evening in the dusk, and wandering down the
grassy lane, under the shadow of the over-arching elms to the little
bridge at the foot of the hill, where the lane to the Hope Farm joined
another road to Hornby. On the low parapet of that bridge I found
Timothy Cooper, the stupid, half-witted labourer, sitting, idly
throwing bits of mortar into the brook below. He just looked up at me
as I came near, but gave me no greeting either by word or gesture. He
had generally made some sign' of recognition to me, but this time I
thought he was sullen at being dismissed. Nevertheless I felt as if it
would be a relief to talk a little to some one, and I sate down by him.
While I was thinking how to begin, he yawned weariedly.

'You are tired, Tim?' said I.

'Ay,' said he. 'But I reckon I may go home now.' 'Have you been sitting
here long?'

'Welly all day long. Leastways sin' seven i' th' morning.' 'Why, what
in the world have you been doing?' 'Nought.'

'Why have you been sitting here, then?'

'T' keep carts off.' He was up now, stretching himself, and shaking his
lubberly limbs.

'Carts! what carts?'

'Carts as might ha' wakened yon wench! It's Hornby market day. I reckon
yo're no better nor a half-wit yoursel'.' He cocked his eye at me as if
he were gauging my intellect.

'And have you been sitting here all day to keep the lane quiet?'

'Ay. I've nought else to do. Th' minister has turned me adrift. Have
yo' heard how th' lass is faring to-night?'

'They hope she'll waken better for this long sleep. Good night to you,
and God bless you, Timothy,' said I.

He scarcely took any notice of my words, as he lumbered across a Stile
that led to his cottage. Presently I went home to the farm. Phillis had
Stirred, had Spoken two or three faint words. Her mother was with her,
dropping nourishment into her scarce conscious mouth. The rest of the
household were summoned to evening prayer for the first time for many
days. It was a return to the daily habits of happiness and health. But
in these Silent days our very lives had been an unspoken prayer. Now we
met In the house-place, and looked at each other with strange
recognition of the thankfulness on all Our faces. We knelt down; we
waited for the minister's voice. He did not begin as usual. He could
not; he was choking. Presently we heard the strong man's sob. Then old
John turned round on his knees, and said,—

'Minister, I reckon we have blessed the Lord wi' all our souls, though
we've ne'er talked about it; and maybe He'll not need spoken words this
night. God bless us all, and keep our Phillis safe from harm! Amen.'
Old John's impromptu prayer was all we had that night.

'Our Phillis,' as he called her, grew better day by day from that time.
Not quickly; I sometimes grew desponding, and feared that she would
never be what she had been before; no more she has, in some ways.

I seized an early opportunity to tell the minister about Timothy
Cooper's unsolicited watch on the bridge during the long Summer's day.

'God forgive me!' said the minister. 'I have been too proud in my own
conceit. The first steps I take out of this house shall be to Cooper's
cottage.'

I need hardly say Timothy was reinstated in his place on the farm; and
I have often since admired the patience with which his master tried to
teach him how to do the easy work which was henceforward carefully
adjusted to his capacity. Phillis was carried down-stairs, and lay for
hour after hour quite silent on the great sofa, drawn up under the
windows of the house-place. She seemed always the same, gentle, quiet,
and sad. Her energy did not return with her bodily strength. It was
sometimes pitiful to see her parents' vain endeavours to rouse her to
interest. One day the minister brought her a set of blue ribbons,
reminding her with a tender smile of a former conversation in which she
had owned to a love of such feminine vanities. She spoke gratefully to
him, but when he was gone she laid them on one side, and languidly shut
her eyes. Another time I saw her mother bring her the Latin and Italian
books that she had been so fond of before her illness—or, rather,
before Holdsworth had gone away. That was worst of all. She turned her
face to the wall, and cried as soon as her mother's back was turned.
Betty was laying the cloth for the early dinner. Her sharp eyes saw the
state of the case.

'Now, Phillis!' said she, coming up to the sofa; 'we ha' done a' we can
for you, and th' doctors has done a' they can for you, and I think the
Lord has done a' He can for you, and more than you deserve, too, if you
don't do something for yourself. If I were you, I'd rise up and snuff
the moon, sooner than break your father's and your mother's hearts wi'
watching and waiting till it pleases you to fight your Own way back to
cheerfulness. There, I never favoured long preachings, and I've said my
say.'

A day or two after Phillis asked me, when we were alone, if I thought
my father and mother would allow her to go and stay with them for a
couple of months. She blushed a little as she faltered out her wish for
change of thought and scene.

'Only for a short time, Paul. Then—we will go back to the peace of the
old days. I know we shall; I can, and I will!'