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Updated: June 6, 2025
'Passon' looked too good for this world, he thought, his dignity of movement, his serene and steadfast eyes, his fine, thoughtful, though somewhat pale countenance, were all expressive of that repose and integrity of soul which lifts a man above the common level, and unconsciously to himself, wins for him the silent honour and respect of all his fellows.
"It's hard it's powerful hard!" agreed Bainton, sympathetically "Such a wife as she'd a' made t'ye, Passon, if she'd been as she was when she come in smilin' an' trippin' across this lawn by your side, an' ye broke off a bit o' your best lilac for her! There's the very bush all leafless twigs now, but strong an' 'elthy an' ready to bloom again! Ah! I remember that day well!
Yet there was a touch of old-world tragedy in Mrs. Spruce's modern history of the young girl's shriek when she found herself suddenly fatherless on that fatal hunting morning. "And now," continued Mrs. Spruce, coaxing one bonnet-string at a time off each portly shoulder with considerable difficulty; "I s'pose I must be goin', Passon Walden, and thank you kindly for all!
It's all as plain as piecrust. An' Passon ain't done nothin' either but jest his dooty as he allus doos it, he ain't been up to the Manor more'n once, he ain't been at the 'All, an' Miss Vancourt she ain't been 'ere neither since the day he broke his best lilac for her. So it can't be she what's done mischief nor him, nor any on 'em. So I sez to myself, what is it? What's come over the old place?
Passon, I reckon ye doesn't read the newspapers much, does ye?" "Pretty fairly," responded Walden still smiling; "I keep myself as well acquainted as I can with what is going on in the world." "Does ye now?" And Mrs. Spruce surveyed him admiringly. "Well, now, I shouldn't have thought it, for ye seems as inn'cent as a babby I do assure ye; ye seems jes' that.
He moved a step or two, then again turned: "I shall want you later on in the orchard, the grass there needs attending to." A slow grin pervaded Bainton's countenance. "Ye minds me of the 'Oly Scripter, Passon, ye does reely now!" he said "Wi' all yer different orders an' idees, y'are behavin' to me like the very moral o' the livin' Wurrd!" Walden looked amused. "How do you make that out?"
But it's in them papers I sees how fine leddies goes on nowadays, and if they misses so much as a two-and-sixpenny 'airpin, some of 'em out of sheer spite, will 'aul a gel up 'fore the p'lice and 'ave 'er in condemned cells in no time, so that ye see, Passon, if so be Miss Maryllia counts over the sparkling diamants and one's lost, we'll all be brought 'fore Sir Morton Pippitt as county mag'strate afore we've 'ad time to look at our breakfasts.
Spruce, at last deciding to resign her hold of the pink shoes, over whose pointed toes she had been moralising, gave them into the care of the rosy-cheeked Phyllis, who was assisting her in her labours, and followed her 'man of God' out to the landing. "Do ye reely think we're doin' quite right, and that we're quite safe, Passon?" she queried, anxiously.
Besides, Oliver Leach is agent 'ere, and what he says is sure to be done. She won't worry 'erself about it, and you may be pretty certain he won't be interfered with. You tell Passon Walden I'm real sorry, but it can't be 'elped." Reluctantly, Bainton turned away. He was never much disposed for a discussion with Mrs. Spruce, her mind was too illogical, and her tongue too persistent.
Rents are all down at 'arf what they was under Oliver Leach, thanks to the new lady, so whether she's a decorum or not don't matter to me. She's a right good sort so here's to her!" And he drained off his ale at one gulp with a relish, several men present following his example. "Passon Walden," began Dan Ridley "Passon Walden " But here there was a sudden loud metallic crash.
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