JEANIE'S WEDDING.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXIV, Issue 4871, 24 January 1903, Page 4 (Supplement)

JEANIE'S WEDDING.

(By Lady Violet Groville.) Jennie was our Scotch servant. A bright>eyed, cbeerl'il. capable body, an excellent cook, and the mu.-stay at our household. Not strictly handsome, but physically strong, her figure was linely developed, and she moved with an alertness and vitality which uro part at tho constituents of beauty. Her features, modelled with no uncertain hand, possessed quiet strength and dignity, which at once impressed you iu her favour, and her speech, terse, graphic and picturesque, stamped on your mind tho woiium’a individuality. She was a reserved woman, talked of other folk's doings, but rarely spoke of herself. AVo never suspected her of romance, until one day she casually observed: “William Lammas, him that lives up at the Hill l*'arm, has asked me to marry him! It'll no be yot a while; wo matin wait till we've saved a woo bit, bub I juist thocht I wauiu tell yo I" After duo congratulations, and permission given for "William to come to tho house, wo watched tho progress of tho courtship with interest. Lvery Sunday, William, a stolid, carroty-hair-ed piece of humanity, visited Jennie, and the two scrolled out together, m unloverlike fashion, walking on opposite sides of Hio road, or else one behind tho other. They greeted one another calmly, and parted with a “guid nicht to yo, Willum." “Guid nicht. lassie,” I noticed occasionally, as Jeanie at her sowing in tho afternoon, inat she wore a piece or honeysuckle or a pink rose in front of her gown, and that a swoeb light of content shono upon her face, and yob she seemed so completely absorbed in her household duties, so unchanged, that one could hardly imagine .fcauio to be suffering, like the rest of tho world, from tho disease of love.

Five years thus classed, five years during which wo heard no more of marriage. Thrifty .indeed ■was Jeanio, and careful. Her bonnet -was the plainest in the kirk, and her Sunday gown appeared to last eternally. She must have put by money, with the canniness of her country-women, but to our questions (and they were rarely and prudently put) as to 'how her engagement was progressing, she would only answer “lino.” IVo had begun to think the whole affair a mere matter of friendship, when ono day wo wore suddenly startled out of our preconceived notions.

As I entered tho kitchen, Jeanio was engaged shelling peas, and all tho time big round tears were foiling on tho husks. “Joauio. what is tho matter?” I asked, completely taken aback at such an unwonted sight. “Eh, mistress dear!” said Jeanio, looking at mo with honest brown eyes, and trying to wipe away her tears. ‘Til have to gang awa’ tho nioht. Te mustn’t ho angry, I canna hide. Tho lassie can cook ■well, and I’ll leave ovorytliing handy.” ‘T know ycu’vo trained the kitchenmaid admirably,” I answered; “but what’s your trouble. Jeanio t" “Willurn’s ill,” she said and a fresh shower of tears gushed forth, “and his mother has just sent for mo to nurso him ; maybo aho’ll not want to engage a stranger, yo kon, on account of tho wages, and tho atramash, and sho knows I can work hard—and specially for my guid man that’s to ho.” “Of course, you must go, Jeanio,” I said quietly, thinking it best to sootho her, for. 1 did not recognise my quiet, weli-baianoed Jeanio. “Probably Willum is not so ill ns you think. Anyway, go at onco, and set your mind at rest.” Jeanio thanked mo shortly, and tho grip with which her fingers hold tho end of tho table relaxed. I felt dreadfully sorry for her as sho stood there, so strong, alert and capable looking, tho very image of a splendid farmer’s wife. However, I said no more, and'' presently I saw her going out of thq hack door in her neat black gown, carrying in her hand tho bonnet box winch contained her clothes. What happened afterwards at the farm wo only knew by hearsay. WilInm’s mother, a shrewd old lady, disliked her soil’s intended marring©, knowing it meant a change of mistresses at tho farm, yet, when ho fell ill. and the Caro of tho chickens, the calves, and tho butter left her no time to nnrso the invalid, sho immediately put hot prido ip her pocket, and desired tho presence of Jeanio to save tho wages of a servant. Jeanio perfectly realised this, hut with tho patient humility of love, she neither rebelled nor refused. W T illum was ill. Willum’s mother wanted her. It was her place to go. Sho could lift him in hor strong arms, sing him to sloop with her rich voice, and with her deft hands prepare his food. She took off her bonnet, hung it up on tho nail, put on her white apron, and at onco proceeded to Willum’s room. What passed between them thcro is too sacred for the chronicler, yet all Jeanio’s caro, her willing service, her sacrifice of sloop and rest, though it availed her nothing, is surely written in tho Book of Life. , Sho and her ' future mother-in-law worked together ceaselessly, in apparent amity, speaking little, and then only on purely practical. matters. Willum’s mother grudgingly confessed she was a good nurse, but any expression of affection she sternly refused hor. Jennie's spirit, while hor body plodded at its weary task, was far away; sho only breathed freely as sho sat beside tho hod, with Willum’s hand in hors, tho pair of them silent, yet happy. If Jeanio’s arms could have brought him back to health, her ardent wishes prevailed, and her deep lovo clinging to , him, kept him from tho jaws of death, then it must have happened. But VVilium grow worse and worse. Tho girl who, had been sent for economical reasons to take a servant’s place, was now entreated to become a wife.

•‘Oh, ho begged and prayed so hard, sho told mo afterwards, “and hia faco ■was so white, and tho eyes just staring up greedily, I couldna refuse his wish.” So tho minister was sent for, and thoro, by tho sick man’s bedside, sho celebrated her ill-omened wedding, and as sho expressed it, “As soon ns I was mairit, I just clapit on a poultice.” With tho tonderest affection she watched over her husband, and their marriage kiss was as warm and peaceful as tho'ugh it bad been tho kiss of death. . “When ho died,” Jcanio said, ‘the ministor prayed by his bedside beautiful, but bo just turned to mo and said, ‘Good-byo jeanio I' Those were his thanks for mo coming and caring for him. Then ho looked at mo happy-like, and passed away as gontle as a bairn in his sleep, for ho know I was bosido him.” Tha funeral concluded, during which

Jeanio bore herself with that calm dignity she lived so well, she left the farm as unobtrusively as she had come. I van see her now as X met her on that day walking quickly towards imp solitary bhtek figure, her bonnet s.ightly untied, her eyes swollen with iiuidicd tears, her strong mouth twitching with emotion.

Then suddenly down in lire middle of the du.sly road before mo she fell on her hands, and throwing out her arms with a line tragic g.-sture, said, “Oh, take mo back, mem, lake me hack! I loved him so, and my heart is .juist breaking!” , , Of ctrirso wo took her back, and ngnt glad wo wen; to have her again. She was a tower of strength iu I,lm house, a wonderful comfort to everybody. Jeanie returned quickly to her old habits, her jellies wero as good, her fritters as crisp, her soups and gravies as appetising as ever. When siie left ‘ho lann she refused her rights as a widow, “lest tho neighbours should clash,” she said., but I fancy from sonic unspoken feeling of delicacy. AU she would take was hundred pounds vVillum left her in Ids will, the savings hoarded for their marriage.

Jeanio is still our cook, and has firmer married again, t! 'igh_ many eligible offers have been received uy her, and she is courted both as a rich and a comely woman. With all her quiet ways, her lovo was deep and passionate, and her heart lies buried m Wiilnm’s grave. "Whan for should I marry?” she said oueo when l was praising a suitor; ‘T’vo had one man, and I've had mucldo happiness, for I loved him.” That speech contained cfio philosophy of Jennie’s simple life. —“JM.A.P.”