A Life's Eclipse Part 8

"No, ma'am, I was shutting my eyes to try how it would be amongst the plants."

"Ah," she said, with the tears now br.i.m.m.i.n.g up into her eyes; "isn't it wonderful? Poor fellow, I cannot tell you how happy it has made me feel. Why, James Ellis, I had been thinking that he had to face a desolate, blank existence, and I was nearly heart-broken about him, and all the time, as you saw, he was going about happy and light-hearted, actually smiling over his work."

"Yes, ma'am," said the bailiff rather gruffly, "it seems very wonderful.

I don't think he can be quite blind."

"What!"

"His eyes look as bright as any one else's, ma'am."

"You think then that he is an impostor?"

"Oh, no, ma'am, I wouldn't say that."

"No, James Ellis, you had better not," said his mistress tartly. "Well, you saw what he can do."

"Yes, ma'am, and I was very much surprised. I did not know he was here;" and Ellis spoke as if he felt rather aggrieved.

"I suppose not," said Mrs Mostyn dryly. "I saw him in old Tummus's garden yesterday, and I walked across and fetched him here this morning to see what he could do in the conservatory, and really, blind as he is, he seems more clever and careful than Daniel Barnett."

James Ellis coughed a little, in a dry, nervous way.

"And now I repeat my question, what do you say to that?"

"Well, ma'am, I--er--that is--"

"You want me to engage one of Admiral Morgan's men to take poor John Grange's place?"

"Yes, ma'am," said the bailiff, recovering himself; "and I don't think, you can do better."

"But I don't want another man."

The bailiff shrugged his shoulders, and looked deprecatingly at his mistress.

"I know you like the garden and houses to look well, ma'am, and we're two hands short."

"No, we are not, James Ellis. Old Dunton has done nothing in the garden but look on for years. I only wished for my poor husband's old servant to end his days in peace; and do you think I am going to supersede that poor fellow whom we have just been watching?"

"But, pardon me, ma'am, there are many things he could never do."

"Then Barnett must do them, and I shall make a change for poor John Grange's sake: I shall give up showy flowers and grow all kinds that shed perfume. That will do. It is impossible for Grange to be head-gardener, but he will retain his old position, and you may tell Barnett that Grange is to do exactly what he feels is suitable to him.

He is not to be interfered with in any way."

"Yes, ma'am," said the bailiff respectfully.

"If he is so wonderful now, I don't know what he will be in a few months. Now, you understand: John Grange is to continue in his work as if nothing had happened, and--you here?"

For at that moment two hands busy tying up some loose strands of a Bougainvillea dropped to their owner's side, and poor John Grange, who had come up to the window unheard, uttered a low cry as he stood with his head bent forward and hands half extended toward the speaker.

"Mrs Mostyn--dear mistress," he faltered, "Heaven bless you for those words!"

"G.o.d tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, John Grange," she said softly, as she laid her hand upon one of those extended toward her as if to reach light in darkness; "should not His servants strive to follow that which they are taught?"

The blank, bright eyes gazed wildly toward her, and then the head was bowed down over the hand which was touched by two quivering lips, as reverently as if it had been that of a queen.

Five minutes later James Ellis was on his way back to the gardens, thinking it was time that Mary went away from home to begin life as a governess, or as attendant to some invalid dame.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

James Ellis went straight to the gardens, and had no difficulty in finding Daniel Barnett, whose voice he heard sounding loud, though smothered, in the closely-shut orchid-house, where he was abusing one of the under-gardeners.

"I don't care--I don't believe it," he cried angrily, as Ellis opened the door slowly; and then came: "Hi! What idiot's that? Don't let all the cold wind in out of the garden. I say that glossum and that cattleya has been moved. Hi! Are you going to shut that door? Oh, it's you, Mr Ellis. I thought it was one of the lads; they will not be careful with those doors."

"Send him away," said the bailiff.

"You can go," said Barnett shortly, to the man, "and mind, I mean to know who moved those orchids. It was done out of opposition. I changed 'em there, and that's where they're to stand."

"Well, I didn't move 'em," growled the man.

"Didn't move them, _sir_" cried Barnett; but at that moment the door was closed with a bang. "I shall have to get rid of that fellow, Mr Ellis.

He don't like me being promoted, and he has been moving my orchids out o' orkardness. Ha, ha! Not so very bad, that."

"He did not move them," said Ellis grimly.

"Who did, then?"

"John Grange."

"John Grange?"

"Yes; I dare say he has been here. He has been in the big conservatory ever so long, tying up plants and clearing off dead stuff."

"John Grange! What, has he got back his sight?"

"No; the mistress fetched him over from old Tummus's cottage, and he has been hard at work ever so long."

"But there wasn't no clearing up to do," cried Barnett, flus.h.i.+ng angrily.

"Wasn't there? Well, he was at it, and you may tell that fellow he won't be wanted, for John Grange is going to stay."

Daniel Barnett said something which, fortunately, was inaudible, and need not be recorded; and he turned pale through the harvest brown sun-tan with mortification and jealous rage.

"Why, you don't mean to say, Mr Ellis, sir," he cried, "that you've been a party to bringing that poor creature back here to make himself a nuisance and get meddling with my plants?"

"No, sir, I do not," said the bailiff sharply; "it's your mistress's work. She has a way of doing what she likes, and you'd better talk to her about that."

He turned upon his heel and left the orchid-house, and as soon as he was gone the new head-gardener stood watching him till he was out of hearing, and then, doubling up his fist, he struck out from the shoulder at one of the offending pots standing at a corner--a lovely mauve-tinted cattleya in full blossom--and sent it flying to s.h.i.+vers upon the floor.