Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

lane, with fields over the hedge. On one side was a great. beech tree, under which I used to play with my little brothers, Johnny and Ben, pelting each other with the. rough beech-nuts, and then hiding behind the great trunk. The tree was cut down long since, and the fields turned, as I said, into a busy street; and where I used to gather cowslips for mother's wine, there stands a railway station, to which the trains come panting up like overtired horses, and where whistles scream at the dead of the night, so that at first I was like to start out of my bed with fright.

Why do I stop here then, an old woman among these new things? Ay, child, you must wait a bit, and then you'll learn that it takes a deal of digging to loosen an old tree. If all outside is changed, inside I've kept the place as it was when mother came home a bride, and every stain on the wall and every bit of cupboard or shelf reminds me of the old days. And besides, I'm not one of those who say there's nought but bad in these changes. They don't come natural to me now, but when I was young I liked to see things growing and moving. I've had my day, and I like others to have their's. Sure enough most of the old faces are gone, and the young haven't the notions and t I the ways I was bred to; but there's many of them keep a warm corner in their hearts for the old woman yet, and there's a deal of love and goodness in the world to bless God for. You'd like to hear some of the things that come into my mind when I look round the room; well, if you can bide a bit, and bear with my rambling way of telling a story, you shall hear one, child. What brings it to my mind is that little Bible on the table there, 'tis torn above a bit, and see there is a stain of blood on its edge; but you'll guess why I prize it when you have heard its history.

I've spoken of Ben and Johnny, but I had one other brother, Hugh, ten or twelve years older than me, and I loved him the best of any. He was very strong, but always gentle to me, and used to carry me about on his broad shoulder and keep the others from teasing me, for I was often ailing as a child. Hugh was good to mother too, but rough with his brothers and not over obedient to father. He had a high spirit, and sometimes father didn't take the wisest way with him; and I've been told, for I scarce remember, that there were too often angry words and hasty blows, and Hugh would run away and hide for a day at a time. He never cared much for his books, but

father was set on it that his eldest boy should be a scholar, and Hugh was kept at school till he was fourteen. But his whole heart was set on going to sea; many and many an evening he would sit busy over a book or map, and father thought he was getting his lesson when he was reading tales of sailor boys and men who went out in ships to find new countries, and saw wonderful things. Father was terribly angry when he found this out; he burned Hugh's books, and made him spend all his spare time in hard work about the house and garden. But it was all no use, mother said that on Sundays he would get the big Bible, and when she looked to see what he was reading it was always about Jonah, or St. Paul's shipwreck, or whatever he could find of ships and the sea. When he was fourteen father said he was to be bound apprentice to a printer in the next town, and Hugh couldn't bear the thought. There was many an angry talk, and poor mother would steal into Hugh's room at night and try to comfort him, and beg him not to be so set on his own way; but she couldn't turn him. She didn't know then that there is One who can bend the strongest will, and help when we are helpless, and so she had nowhere to look for comfort. Well, the morning came when father was to take Hugh to be bound; mother had never slept that night, and she went as soon as the dawn came to Hugh's room. No one had lain in his little bed, the room was empty, and on the table lay a bit of paper—İ have it in the Bible yet: on it were these words:

66

Dear, dear mother, I can't help it, I must go to sea, don't be sorry, ask father to forgive me, I'll come back rich some day and take care of you all."

At first mother tried to believe he was only hiding himself to frighten them; it was late enough of evenings before she'd bolt the door or put the candle out, she had mending to do she said, but we all knew why she watched so late and rose so early. About a fortnight after Hugh had gone the postman brought us a letter. Mother saw

him coming and met him before he was near, for she knew what he was bringing. Here is the letter, you can read it though it's yellow enough; yes sure that is the mark of a tear, child, you can tell whose belike. Read it aloud, though I've heard it oft.

"MY OWN DEAR MOTHER,-I have got to Liverpool and found a ship, we sail to-morrow: I shan't write again nor

come home till I'm a great man, and when I've found my fortune father will forgive me. God bless you, mother; my love to the little ones-your own boy, HUGH."

And that was all we heard for many and many a long year, though we children, when we heard that there was a strange gentleman at the inn, or when a carriage drove through the village, always thought Hugh had made his fortune and come home. Mother began to look old before her time the neighbours said, and father grew more stern and grave, but he never mentioned Hugh's name.

When I was eight years old a sore trouble came upon us. It had been a hot long summer, but the autumn was wet and unhealthy, and fever broke out in the village. It spread from one to another, and the poor doctor, who lived a good ten miles off, was worn out with work. Ben took it, then it was my turn, and soon we were all down with the fever except mother. How she nursed us I can't tell, but she did it. I believe she sought and found the help which never fails, for however little people may care about religion when they are well, and everything is bright and pleasant, there's but few, I take it, can bear sorrow alone, or forget the good God when the heart is heavy. And, child, mind you this, the best man on earth would turn from one who never came nigh him but when he wanted something, and forgot him so soon as the gift was given; but our Father never turns away, he is ever waiting for us. I don't think mother knew much of this, but her sore heart was feeling after God, as a little tired child seeks its father. She had need of help, for she had a hard trouble. First of all Ben died, and then Johnny; but mother kept it from both father and me, and he was too ill to ask questions. After a while he never spoke sensible words, nor seemed to know who it was that watched all the long hours through by his bedside. My crib stood in a corner of the room, and I heard him moan over and over again the name of the boy whom he had seemed for so long to forget. It was “Hugh, forgive me, and come home;" or "Hugh, come back and don't break your mother's heart." Or he would cry out that Hugh was overboard, and he had done it. I can't think how mother bore it. The night before father died he woke up clear and sensible. "Mary," he said to mother, "I'm going from you; I've not thought much about death, and it isn't easy to turn to these

things on a sick bed; but I do pray God pardon me and take me to himself for Christ's sake: but teach the children to mind religion when they are young and strong." By and by he spoke again. "Tis Hugh lies heaviest on my heart now, wife, but I don't think he's dead; he'll come home; and tell him then that his dying father forgave him as he hoped to be forgiven, and prayed God bless him." That night father died.

Months went by, and grass began to grow on the three graves side by side in the churchyard. Mother and I lived alone in the house that was once so full of merry voices. It was a sad time; we were not badly off for a living, for father had saved money, and then mother took in a little clear-starching, that she might be able to put me to the dressmaking when I was old enough. The quiet weeks were so like each other that I scarce remember how the months and years went by till I was eighteen; but then something happened which I am not like to forget. It was a beautiful evening in September, the dahlias and foxgloves were out, and the vine over our cottage beginning to redden. Mother and I sat in this very room, mother in her big chair by the fireside, I by the table busy at work. We chanced to be very quiet that evening, nothing but the loud ticking of that old clock and the sound of my mother's knitting-needles broke the silence, and I suppose that was why we both started, and why mother turned so white, as we heard the sound of a man's footsteps come up the lane. He stopped at the garden gate and opened the latch, which was rather an awkward one, as if he were used to it. It's only the man with the linen from the hall,” I said, and ran to the door. There stood a stranger, a strong man above thirty, brown and foreign looking. He looked very earnestly at me, but only said in a rough constrained voice, "Is Mrs. Welham in?" Before I could answer I heard mother's step behind me and saw her eyes meet those of the stranger. "Mother," he said. "Hugh, my own boy," she cried, and in a moment he had caught her in his arms. It was some minutes before she would let him go even to kiss me, but at last we were all three sitting in the dusk round the window. Hugh had heard that his father and brothers were dead; for before he came to us he went to the clergyman, fearing rightly that there might be bad news for him. Well, I can't tell you of that evening nor the next, nor of the strange joy and sorrow which filled all our

[ocr errors]

hearts. It was a sorer grief to Hugh than we could tell that he could not ask father to forgive him, but mother bade him take all the comfort of his parting message to his boy.

On Sunday we three went to church together, mother leaning on Hugh's arm, and then we stood awhile by the three graves and walked home very quiet and solemn. In the evening as we talked, I said, girl-like, "Ah, Hugh, you are not a very rich man, I fancy. Where's the great fortune you were going to make?"

"It's no good to seek riches by disobedience," he said, "but through God's mercy I'm a richer man than you think."

I looked at him to know his meaning, for he had told us plainly that he had worked hard for scant wages, and come home far enough from being a rich man. For all answer he took from his coat pocket this old Bible. "If that's all

you've got," said I, I don't think you'll be squire yet awhile;" laughing at one of his foolish sayings when a boy. Hugh smiled and turning to mother asked if he might read a spell out of his Bible.

"Ay sure, my boy, 'tis good reading, though I can't al ways get at the sense; but there's comforting words there that have helped me many a time."

"We must ask the Spirit of God to teach us to understand," he said; and he began to read. I didn't listen much I fear; I sat looking at Hugh and wondering what he meant about being rich.

When he had finished, mother said nought, so I was driven to speak. "You read finely, Hugh," I said; 66 no one ever thought you'd be such a scholar."

"No scholar, lass, more's the pity: but shall tell you! how I came by this Bible and learnt to love it, and then you'll see maybe that I'm richer in it than in a mine of gold, and that it's better to spell out its words, if God helps you to their meaning, than to read over the top of them, as it were, like the finest scholar on earth.

"I was on board a man-of-war, and sore tired of the service, longing to come home and see your faces once more; but pride kept me away, for I had no fortune to bring back. I was very lonely, and did not care to make friends among my comrades; I was always thinking how I had cut myself off from home and was alone in the world. I never thought then, mother, of going to the best Friend; 'tis little religion one meets with on board ship; and though I could never take to the wicked doings I saw, yet thoughts of

« AnteriorContinuar »