CHAPTER XI. THE COTTAGERS

titallforth’best,thoughhehadaqueerwaywithhim.Butyouknow,Miss,he’srichan’young,andsuchlikecannotrightunderstandthethoughtsofapooroldwomansuchasme.But,howsever,Ididmybesttodoallashebademe—butmaybeI’mplaguingyou,Miss,wi’mychatter.” “Oh,no,Nancy!Goon,andtellmeall.” “Well,myrheumatizgotbetter—Iknownotwhetherwi’goingtochurchornot,butonefrostySundayIgotthiscoldi’myeyes.Th’inflammationdidn’tcomeonallatoncelike,butbitbybit—butIwasn’tgoingtotellyouaboutmyeyes,Iwastalkingaboutmytroubleo’mind—andtotellthetruth,MissGrey,Idon’tthinkitwasanywayseasedbycomingtochurch—noughttospeakon,atleast:Ilikegotmyhealthbetterbutthatdidn’tmendmysoul.Ihearkenedandhearkenedtheministers,andreadan’readatmyprayer-bookbutitwasalllikesoundingbrassandatinklingcymbal:thesermonsIcouldn’tunderstand,an’th’prayer-bookonlyservedtoshowmehowwickedIwas,thatIcouldreadsuchgoodwordsan’neverbenobetterforit,andoftensfeelitasorelabouran’aheavytaskbeside,insteadofablessingandaprivilegeasallgoodChristiansdoes.Itseemedlikeasallwerebarrenan’darktome.Andthen,themdreadfulwords,‘Manyshallseektoenterin,andshallnotbeable.’Theylikeastheyfairdriedupmysperrit. “ButoneSunday,whenMaisterHatfieldgaveoutaboutthesacrament,Inoticedwherehesaid,‘Iftherebeanyofyouthatcannotquiethisownconscience,butrequirethfurthercomfortorcounsel,lethimcometome,orsomeotherdiscreetandlearnedministerofGod’sword,andopenhisgrief!’SonextSundaymorning,aforeservice,Ijustlookedintothevestry,an’begana-talkingtoth’Rectoragain.Ihardlycouldfashiontotakesuchaliberty,butIthoughtwhenmysoulwasatstakeIshouldn’tstickatatrifle.Buthesaidhehadn’ttimetoattendtomethen. “‘And,indeed,’sayshe,‘I’venothingtosaytoyoubutwhatI’vesaidbefore.Takethesacrament,ofcourse,andgoondoingyourdutyandifthatwon’tserveyou,nothingwill.Sodon’tbothermeanymore.’ “Sothen,Iwentaway.ButIheardMaisterWeston—MaisterWestonwasthere,Miss—thiswashisfirstSundayatHorton,youknow,an’hewasi’th’vestryinhissurplice,helpingth’Rectoronwithhisgown—” “Yes,Nancy.” “AndIheardhimaskMaisterHatfieldwhoIwas,an’hesays,‘Oh,she’sacantingoldfool.’ “AndIwasveryillgrieved,MissGreybutIwenttomyseat,andItriedtodomydutyasaforetime:butIlikegotnopeace.An’IeventookthesacramentbutIfeltasthoughIwereeatinganddrinkingtomyowndamnationallth’time.SoIwenthome,sorelytroubled. “Butnextday,aforeI’dgottenfettledup—forindeed,Miss,I’dnohearttosweepingan’fettling,an’washingpotssoIsatmedowni’th’muck—whoshouldcomeinbutMaisterWeston!Istartedsidingstuffthen,an’sweepingan’doingandIexpectedhe’dbegina-callingmeformyidleways,asMaisterHatfieldwoulda’donebutIwasmista’en:heonlybidmegood-mornin’like,inaquietdacentway.SoIdustedhimachair,an’fettledupth’fireplaceabitbutIhadn’tforgottenth’Rector’swords,sosaysI,‘Iwonder,sir,youshouldgiveyourselfthattrouble,tocomesofartoseea“cantingoldfool,”suchasme.’ “Heseemedtakenabackatthatbuthewouldfainpersuademe“attheRectorwasonlyinjestandwhenthatwouldn’tdo,hesays,‘Well,Nancy,youshouldn’tthinksomuchaboutit:Mr.Hatfieldwasalittleoutofhumourjustthen:youknowwe’renoneofusperfect—evenMosesspokeunadvisedlywithhislips.Butnowsitdownaminute,ifyoucansparethetime,andtellmeallyourdoubtsandfearsandI’lltrytoremovethem.’ “SoIsatmedownanenthim.Hewasquiteastranger,youknow,MissGrey,andevenyoungernorMaisterHatfield,IbelieveandIhadthoughthimnotsopleasant-lookingashim,andratherabitcrossish,atfirst,tolookatbuthespakesocivillike—andwhenth’cat,poorthing,jumpedontohisknee,heonlystrokedher,andgaveabitofasmile:soIthoughtthatwasagoodsignforonce,whenshedidsototh’Rector,heknockedheroff,likeasitmightbeinscornandanger,poorthing.Butyoucan’texpectacattoknowmannerslikeaChristian,youknow,MissGrey.” “Noofcoursenot,Nancy.ButwhatdidMr.Westonsaythen?” “Hesaidnoughtbuthelistenedtomeassteadyan’patientascouldbe,an’neverabito’scornabouthimsoIwenton,an’telledhimall,justasI’vetelledyou—an’moretoo. “‘Well,’sayshe,‘Mr.Hatfieldwasquiterightintellingyoutopersevereindoingyourdutybutinadvisingyoutogotochurchandattendtotheservice,andsoon,hedidn’tmeanthatwasthewholeofaChristian’sduty:heonlythoughtyoumighttherelearnwhatmorewastobedone,andbeledtotakedelightinthoseexercises,insteadoffindingthemataskandaburden.Andifyouhadaskedhimtoexplainthosewordsthattroubleyousomuch,Ithinkhewouldhavetoldyou,thatifmanyshallseektoenterinatthestraitgateandshallnotbeable,itistheirownsinsthathinderthemjustasamanwithalargesackonhisbackmightwishtopassthroughanarrowdoorway,andfinditimpossibletodosounlesshewouldleavehissackbehindhim.Butyou,Nancy,Idaresay,havenosinsthatyouwouldnotgladlythrowaside,ifyouknewhow?’ “‘Indeed,sir,youspeaktruth,’saidI. “‘Well,’sayshe,‘youknowthefirstandgreatcommandment—andthesecond,whichislikeuntoit—onwhichtwocommandmentshangallthelawandtheprophets?YousayyoucannotloveGodbutitstrikesmethatifyourightlyconsiderwhoandwhatHeis,youcannothelpit.Heisyourfather,yourbestfriend:everyblessing,everythi