CHAPTER V

THE HEARTH FIRE

    He who has drunk of Love’s sharp strong wine,
    Will drink thereof till death. 
    Love comes in silence and alone
    To meet the elected One.

* * * * *

It was a chill, misty evening in the last days of September, and John Hatton was sitting by the fire in the great central hall.  He was thinking of many things, but through all of them the idea of his brother Harry swept like an obliterating cloud.  He was amazed at the hot impetuous love which had taken possession of the boy—­for he still thought of him as a boy—­and wondering how best to direct and control a passion that had grown like a force of Nature, which it really was.  Now great and fervid emotions are supposed to be the true realization of life, but they do not, as a rule, soften the nature they invade; very frequently they render it cruel and indifferent to whomever or whatever appears to stand in the way of its desires.  John realized this fact in Harry’s case.  He was going from home for a year, and yet he had never before been so careless and unconcerned about his home.

It was not a pleasant train of thought, and he was pleased when it was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Hatton.  “Why, John, my dear,” she said, “I was wondering if you had come home yet.  Have you seen Harry?”

“Not since breakfast.”

“He is with that girl, I suppose; or, if Lugur is at home, he is watching the house she lives in.”

“He is very much in love.  We must make the best of it.  I thought he was in love with Polly Crowther—­but it seems not.  There is a little difference between the two girls.”

“There is a big difference between them, and it is all in favor of Polly Crowther.”

“As far as we can judge at present it is, but—­whatever have you in your basket, mother?  It smells like Paradise.”

“I have herbs, John.  I have been crushing down my heartache with work—­there’s nothing beats work if you’re in trouble.  I cleaned out my still room today, and I was carrying there the last pickings of lavender and rosemary, sage and marjoram, basil and mint.  I can tell you, John, there’s a deal of help in some way or other through sweet, pungent smells.  They brightened me up a bit today, they did that!”

“To be sure they did, mother.  They rise naturally to Heaven, and if we are willing, they carry our thoughts with them.”

“I don’t know about that, John.  My thoughts were not heavenly at all today, and I hope they stayed where they belonged.  Take the tongs, John, and lift a lump of coal to the fire.  I joy to see the blaze.  I wouldn’t like Hatton hearthstone to have the ill luck that has just come to Yates Manor House.  You know, John, the fire in their hall has been burning for nearly two hundred years, never, never allowed to go out.  The young squire always fed it as soon as the old squire went away.  It was dead and cold this morning.  Yates is past comforting.  He says it bodes all kinds of misfortunes to them.”