The Fairchild Family

by Mrs. Sherwood

  Little Edwy and the Echo

  He turned away from the terrible bird]

  "It was in the time of our good Queen Anne, when none of the trees inthe great forest of Norwood, near London, had begun to be cut down,that a very rich gentleman and lady lived there: their name was Lawley.

  "They had a fine old house and large garden, with a wall all round it,and the woods were so close upon this garden, that some of the hightrees spread their branches over the top of the wall.

  "Now, this lady and gentleman were very proud and very grand, anddespised all people poorer than themselves, and there were none whomthey despised more than the gipsies, who lived in the forest all about.

  "There was no place in all England then so full of gipsies as theforest of Norwood.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Lawley had been married many years, and had no children;at length they had one son--they called him Edwy, and they felt theycould not make too much of him, or dress him too fine.

  "When he was just old enough to run about without help, he used to wearhis trousers inlaid with the finest lace, with golden studs and lacedrobings; he had a plume of feathers in his cap, which was of velvet,with a button of gold to fasten it up in front under the feathers, sothat whoever saw him with the servants who attended him, used to say,'Whose child is that?'

  "He was a pretty boy, too, and, when his first sorrow came, was stilltoo young to have learned any of the proud ways of his father andmother.

  "No one is so rich as to be above the reach of trouble, therefore prideand self-sufficiency are never suitable to the state of man.

  "Trouble was long in coming to Mr. and Mrs. Lawley, but when it came itwas only the more terrible.

  "One day, when the proud parents had been absent some hours on a visitto a friend a few miles distant, Edwy was nowhere to be found on theirreturn--his waiting-maid was gone, and had taken away his finestclothes; at least, these were also missing.

  "The poor father and mother were almost beside themselves with grief,and all the gentlemen and magistrates about rose up together to findthe child, and discover those who had stolen him, but all in vain; ofcourse, the gipsies were suspected and well examined, but nothing couldbe made of it; nor was it ever made out in what way the little boy wasgot off; but got off he had been by the gipsies, and carried away to acountry among hills, on the borders of the two shires of Worcester andHereford."

  "Did not I know it?" cried Henry, as he stopped to turn over a leaf; "Iknew it from the first that the gipsies had him."

  "In that country," he continued, as he read on, "there is a valleywhere two watercourses meet deep in a bottom; where there are manytrees, and many bushes, and much broken irregular ground, where alsothere are rocks, and caves, and holes in these rocks, and everypossible convenience for the haunt of wild people. To this place thegipsies carried the little boy, and there they kept him, all thefollowing winter, warm in a hut with some of their own children.

  "They had stripped him of his velvet, and feathers, and lace, and goldclasps, and studs, and clothed him in rags, and daubed his fair skinwith mud; but they fed him well; and after a little while he seemed tobe unconscious of any change.

  "Now, the part which comes next of this true and wonderful history hasnothing to go upon but the confused and imperfect recollections of alittle child.

  "The story nowhere tells the age of Edwy when he was stolen, but he hadbeen lost to his parents from the time that the leaves in the forest ofNorwood were becoming sear and falling off, till the sweet spring wasfar advanced towards the summer.

  "Probably the cunning gipsies had hoped that during the long months ofwinter the little child would quite forget the few words which he hadlearned to speak distinctly in his father's house, or that he wouldforget also to call himself Edwy; or to cry, as he remembered that heoften did, 'Oh, mamma, mamma! papa, papa! come to little Edwy.' Thegipsies tried to teach him that his name was not Edwy, but Jack or Tom,or some such name; and to make him say mam and dad, and call himselfthe gipsy boy, born in a barn. But after he had learned all thesewords, whenever anything hurt or frightened him, he would cry again,'Mamma! papa! come to Edwy.' The gipsies could not take him out, ofcourse, whilst there was danger of his breaking out in this way; andafter he came to that hut in the valley, he did not remember ever goingout with any of the people when they went their rounds of begging, andpilfering, and buying rags; telling fortunes meanwhile, as gipsiesalways do.

  "When left behind, there were always two or three children, a greatgirl, an old woman, or a sick person, staying with him, until the daywhich set him free from his troubles. It was in the month of May. Whowould not like to live like a gipsy in a wood, if all the year roundwas like that month of May? It was about noon, and Edwy, who had beenup before the sun, to breakfast with those who were going out for theirday's begging and stealing, had fallen asleep on a bed of dry leaves inthe hut, as soon as most of the people were gone; one old woman, whowas too lame to tramp, was left with him.

  "He slept long, and when he awoke he sat up on his bed of leaves, andlooked about him to see who was with him; he saw no one within the hut,and no one at the doorway.

  "Little children have great dread of being alone. He listened to hearif there were any voices without, but he could hear nothing but therush of a waterfall close by, and the distant cry of sheep and lambs.The next thing the little one remembered that he did, was to get up andgo out of the door of the hut. The hut was built of rude rafters andwattles in the front of a cave or hole in a rock; it was down low inthe glen at the edge of the brook, a little below the waterfall. Whenthe child came out, he looked anxiously for somebody, and was more andmore frightened when he could see no creature of his own kind amid allthe green leaves, and all along the water's edge above and below.

  "Where was the old woman all this time? who can say? but perhaps notfar off; perhaps she might have been deaf, and, though near, did nothear the noise made by the child when he came out of the hut.

  "Edwy did not remember how long he stood by the brook; but this iscertain that the longer he felt himself to be alone, the morefrightened he became, and soon began to fancy terrible things. Therewas towards the top of the rock from which the waters fell a huge oldyew-tree, or rather bush, which hung forward over the fall. It lookedvery black in comparison with the tender green of the fresh leaves ofthe neighbouring trees, and the white and glittering spray of thewater. Edwy looked at it and fancied that it moved; his eye wasdeceived by the dancing motion of the water.

  "Whilst he looked and looked, some great black bird came out from themidst of it uttering a harsh croaking noise. The little boy could bearno more; he turned away from the terrible bush and the terrible bird,and ran down the valley, leaving hut and all behind, and crying, as healways did when hurt or frightened, 'Papa! mamma! Oh, come, oh, come toEdwy!'

  "He ran and ran, whilst his little bare feet were pierced with pebbles,and his legs torn with briars, until he came to where the valley becamenarrower, and where one might have thought the rocks and banks on eachside had been cleft by the hand of a giant, so nicely would they havefitted could they have been brought together again. The brook ran alonga pebble channel between these rocks and banks, and there was a rudepath which went in a line with the brook; a path which was used only bythe gipsies and a few poor cottagers, whose shortest way from the greatroad at the end of the valley to their own houses was by that solitaryway.

  "As Edwy ran, he still cried, 'Mamma! mamma! papa! papa! Oh, come, oh,come to Edwy!'--and he kept up his cry from time to time as he foundbreath to utter it, till his young voice began to be returned in a sortof hollow murmur.

  "When first he observed this, he was even more frightened than before;he stood and looked round, and then he turned with his back towards thehut, and ran and ran again, till he got deeper amongst the rocks. Hestopped again, for the high black banks frightened him still more, andsetting up his young voice he called again, and his call was the sameas before.

  "He had scarcely finished his cr
y, when a voice, from whence he knewnot, seemed to answer him; it said, 'Come, come to Edwy;' it said itonce, it said it twice, it said it a third time, but it seemed eachtime more distant.

  "The child looked up, the child looked round, he could never describewhat he felt; but in his great agitation he cried more loudly, 'Oh,papa! mamma! Come, come to poor Edwy!' It was an echo, the echo of therocks which repeated the words of the child; and the more loudly hespoke, the more perfect was the echo; but he could catch only the fewlast words; this time he only heard, 'Poor, poor Edwy!' Edwy had notlost all recollection of some far distant happy home, and of some kindparents far away; and now at that minute he believed that what the echosaid came from them, and that they were calling to him, and saying,'Poor, poor Edwy!' But where were those who called to him? alas! hecould not tell. Were they in the holes in the rocks?--his mind was thenused to the notion of people living in caves--or were they at the topof the rocks? or were they up high in the blue bright heavens?

  "It would have been a sorrowful sight to behold that pretty boylooking up at the rocks and the sky, and down among the reeds, andsedges, and alders by the side of the brook, for some persons to whomthe voice might belong; in hopes of seeing that same lady he sometimesdreamed of, and that kind gentleman he used to call papa; and to seehow the tears gushed from his eyes when he could not find anyone.

  "After a while he called again, and called louder still. 'Come, come,'was his cry again, 'Edwy is lost! lost! lost!' Echo repeated the lastwords as before, 'Lost! lost! lost!' and now the voice sounded frombehind him, for he had moved round a corner of a rock.

  "The child heard the voice behind, and turned and ran that way; andstopped and called again, and then heard it the other way; and next heshrieked from fear, and echo returned the shriek once more, and thrice,finishing off with broken sounds, which to Edwy's ears appeared as ifsomebody a long way off was mocking him.

  "His terror was now at its highest; indeed he could never remember whathe did next, or when he turned to go down the valley; but turn he did,after having run back many paces.

  "His steps, however, were guided by One whose eye was never off him,even his kind and heavenly Father; and on he went, neither heedingstones nor briars; every step taking him nearer to the mouth of theglen, and the entrance on the great high road.

  "And who had been driving along that road in a fine carriage with fourhorses?"

  * * * * *

  "Who?" cried Henry Fairchild, turning over another leaf; "who, but hisown papa?--but I must go on."

  * * * * *

  "Mr. and Mrs. Lawley had given up all hopes of finding their little boynear Norwood, and they had set out in their coach to go all over thecountry in search of him. They had come the day before to a town nearto the place where the gipsies had kept Edwy all the winter, and therethey had made many inquiries, particularly about any gipsies who mightbe in the habit of haunting that country: but people there were afraidof the gipsies, and did not like to say anything which might bring theminto trouble with them. The gipsies never did much mischief in the wayof stealing near their own huts, and were always civil when civillytreated.

  "The poor father and mother, therefore, could get no information there;and the next morning they had come on across the country, and along theroad into which the gipsies' valley opened.

  "Wherever these unhappy parents saw a wild country, full of woods, andwhere the ground was rough and broken, they thought, if possible, morethan ever of their lost child; and at those times Mrs. Lawley alwaysbegan to weep--indeed, she had done little else since she had missedher boy. The travellers first came in sight of the gipsies' valley, andthe vast sweep of woods on each side of it, just as the horses haddragged the coach to the top of a very high hill or bank over which theroad went; and then also those in the coach saw before them a verysteep descent, so steep that it was thought right to put the drag uponthe wheels.

  "Mr. Lawley proposed that they should get out and walk down the hill.Mrs. Lawley consented; the coach stopped, everyone got down from it,and Mr. Lawley walked first, followed closely by his servant William;whilst Mrs. Lawley came on afterwards, leaning on the arm of herfavourite little maid Barbara. The poor parents, when their griefpressed most heavily on them, were easier with other people than witheach other.

  "'Oh, Barbara!' said Mrs. Lawley, when the others were gone forward;'when I remember the pretty ways of my boy, and think of his lovelyface and gentle temper, and of the way in which I lost him, my heart isready to break; and I often remember, with shame and sorrow, the pridein which I indulged, before it pleased God to bring this dreadfulaffliction upon me.'

  "The little maid who walked by her wept too; but she said:

  "'Oh, dear mistress! if God would give us but the grace to trust inHim, our grief would soon be at an end. I wish we could trust in Him,for He can and will do everything for us to make us happy.'

  "'Ah, Barbara!' said the lady; and she could add no more--she went onin silence.

  "Mr. Lawley walked on before with the servant. He, too, was thinking ofhis boy, and his eye ranged over the wild scene on the right hand ofthe road. He saw a raven rise from the wood--he heard its croakingnoise--it was perhaps the same black bird that had frightened Edwy.

  "William remarked to his master that there was a sound of fallingwater, and said there were sure to be brooks running in the valley. Mr.Lawley was, however, too sad to talk to his servant; he could only say,'I don't doubt it,' and then they both walked on in silence.

  "They came to the bottom of the valley even before the carriage gotthere. They found that the brook came out upon the road in that place,and that the road was carried over it by a little stone bridge.

  "Mr. Lawley stopped upon the bridge; he leaned on the low wall, andlooked upon the dark mouth of the glen. William stood a little behindhim.

  "William was young; his hearing and all his senses were very quick. Ashe stood there, he thought he heard a voice; but the rattling of thecoach-wheels over the stony road prevented his hearing it distinctly.He heard the cry again; but the coach was coming nearer, and making itstill more difficult for him to catch the sound.

  "His master was surprised to see him vault over the low parapet of thebridge the next moment, and run up the narrow path which led up theglen.

  "It was the voice of Edwy, and the answering echo, which William hadheard. He had got at just a sufficient distance from the sound of thecoach-wheels at the moment when the echo had returned poor littleEdwy's wildest shriek.

  "The sound was fearful, broken, and not natural; but William was noteasily put out; he looked back to his master, and his look was suchthat Mr. Lawley immediately left the bridge to follow him, thoughhardly knowing why.

  "They both went on up the glen, the man being many yards before themaster. Another cry and another answering echo again reached the ear ofWilliam, proceeding as from before him. The young man again looked athis master and ran on. The last cry had been heard by Mr. Lawley, whoimmediately began to step with increasing quickness after his servant,though, as the valley turned and turned among the rocks, he soon lostsight of him.

  "Mr. Lawley was by this time come into the very place where the echohad most astonished Edwy, because each reverberation which it had madeseemed to sound from opposite sides; and here he heard the cry again,and heard it distinctly. It was the voice of a child first, crying,'No! no! no! Papa! mamma! Oh, come! Oh, come!'--and then a fearfulshriek or laugh of some wild woman's voice.

  "Mr. Lawley rushed on, winding swiftly between the rocks, whilstvarious voices, in various tones, which were all repeated in strangeconfusion by the echoes, rang in his ears; but amid all these sounds hethought only of that one plaintive cry, 'Papa! mamma! Oh, come! Oh,come!' Suddenly he came out to where he saw his servant again, and withhim an old woman, who looked like a witch. She had the hand of a littleragged child, to which she held firmly, though the baby, for suchalmost he was, struggled hard to get free, crying, '
Papa! mamma! Oh,come! Oh, come!'

  "William was arguing with the woman, and he had got the other hand ofthe child.

  "Mr. Lawley rushed on, trembling with hope, trembling with fear--couldthis boy be his Edwy? William had entered his service since he had losthis child; he could not therefore know him; nor could he himself besure--so strange, so altered, did the baby look.

  "But Edwy knew his own father in a moment; he could not run to meethim, for he was tightly held by the gipsy, but he cried:

  "'Oh, papa! papa is come to Edwy!'

  "The old woman knew Mr. Lawley, and saw that the child knew him. Shehad been trying to persuade William that the boy was her grandchild;but it was all up with her now; she let the child's hand go, and whilsthe was flying to his father's arms, she disappeared into somewell-known hole or hollow in the neighbouring rocks.

  "Who can pretend to describe the feelings of the father when he feltthe arms of his long-lost boy clinging round his neck, and his littleheart beating against his own? or who could say what the mother feltwhen she saw her husband come out from the mouth of the valley,bearing in his arms the little ragged child? Could it be her own--herEdwy? She could hardly be sure of her happiness till the boy held outhis arms to her, and cried, 'Mamma! mamma!'"

  "_Could it be her own--her Edwy? She could hardly besure of her happiness._"--Page 202.]

  * * * * *

  "This story is too short," said Henry; "I wish it had been twice aslong; I want to hear more of that little boy and of the gipsies."

  "It is getting very hot," said Emily, when they had done talking; "letus go into the house, and we will not come out again until it is cool.I hope we shall not be naughty to-day, Henry, but do what papa andmamma will think right."

  "Come, then," replied Henry. And they went back to the house and spentthe rest of the morning in their play-room: and I am sure that theywere very happy in a quiet way, for Henry was making a grotto of mossand shells, fixed on a board with paste; and Emily was just beginningto make a little hermit to be in the grotto, till they both changedtheir minds a little, and turned the grotto into a gipsy's hut, andinstead of a hermit an old woman was made to stand at the door.

  "Oh Papa! Mamma! Come to Edwy!"]