“It is the first time in my life that I have fairly counted among men.  It’s the first time I have known human affection, other than yours, Penzance.  They want me, these people; they are better for the sight of me.  It is a new experience, and it is good for a man’s soul,” he said.

CHAPTER XLIII

HIS CHANCE

Betty walked much alone upon the marshes with Roland at her side.  At intervals she heard from Mr. Penzance, but his notes were necessarily brief, and at other times she could only rely upon report for news of what was occurring at Mount Dunstan.  Lord Mount Dunstan’s almost military supervision of and command over his villagers had certainly saved them from the horrors of an uncontrollable epidemic; his decision and energy had filled the alarmed Guardians with respect and this respect had begun to be shared by many other persons.  A man as prompt in action, and as faithful to such responsibilities as many men might have found plausible reasons enough for shirking, inevitably assumed a certain dignity of aspect, when all was said and done.  Lord Dunholm was most clear in his expressions of opinion concerning him.  Lady Alanby of Dole made a practice of speaking of him in public frequently, always with admiring approval, and in that final manner of hers, to whose authority her neighbours had so long submitted.  It began to be accepted as a fact that he was a new development of his race—­as her ladyship had put it, “A new order of Mount Dunstan.”

The story of his power over the stricken people, and of their passionate affection and admiration for him, was one likely to spread far, and be immensely popular.  The drama of certain incidents appealed greatly to the rustic mind, and by cottage firesides he was represented with rapturous awe, as raising men, women, and children from the dead, by the mere miracle of touch.  Mrs. Welden and old Doby revelled in thrilling, almost Biblical, versions of current anecdotes, when Betty paid her visits to them.

“It’s like the Scripture, wot he done for that young man as the last breath had gone out of him, an’ him lyin’ stiffening fast.  ’Young man, arise,’ he says.  ‘The Lord Almighty calls.  You’ve got a young wife an’ three children to take care of.  Take up your bed an’ walk.’  Not as he wanted him to carry his bed anywheres, but it was a manner of speaking.  An’ up the young man got.  An’ a sensible way,” said old Mrs. Welden frankly, “for the Lord to look at it—­for I must say, miss, if I was struck down for it, though I s’pose it’s only my sinful ignorance—­that there’s times when the Lord seems to think no more of sweepin’ away a steady eighteen-shillin’ a week, and p’raps seven in family, an’ one at the breast, an’ another on the way—­than if it was nothin’.  But likely enough, eighteen shillin’ a week an’ confinements does seem paltry to the Maker of ‘eaven an’ earth.”