Third Part of the History of Little Bernard Low
There was no end of the indulgences given in private tothe boy]
_THIRD PART OF HENRY'S STORY_
"As this history has been very long, and there is more to write aboutit, we will not say much of what happened the next seven days; for bothhouses, that is, Mr. Low's and Mr. Evans's, were all in a bustle, andeverybody was pleased at the changes which were coming. Even Bernard,after he had roared, and cried, and sulked for the first two days, hadaltered his manner, and taken up the behaviour of Harry in the oldspelling-book--what we may call the don't-care behaviour--for, as hetold nurse, if his father did not love him enough to take the troubleof him in the voyage he was taking, he did not care, not he; he shouldbe very happy at home without him. He should cry no more: he wonderedwhy he cried at first, for he had not cared all the while; and so hewent whistling about the house the tune of the 'Jolly Miller' which hehad heard Ralph sing:
"'There was a jolly miller once Lived on the River Dee; He work'd and sang from morn till night, No man so blithe as he.
"'And this the burden of his song For ever used to be-- I care for nobody, no, not I, And nobody cares for me.'
"Bernard, however, did not let his father hear him whistling this tune,nor did he say, 'I don't care,' before him.
"The Monday following that in which he had walked with Lucilla was theday fixed for the many changes. Very early in the morning, nurse's sonbrought a donkey for his mother. The old woman cried, and said sheshould have no peace till she came back again, and told Mrs. Low thatshe was sure she should never live in comfort with her son's wife Joan.She kissed Bernard twenty times, and begged him to come and see her;and Bernard did his best not to cry. There was an early breakfast, butnobody sat at the table two minutes together; something was to be doneevery moment. Mr. Low walked in and out five or six times. Thehousemaid and the cook came in to say good-bye; they were going to walkto their homes; and Ralph was to go with his sister, the cook. People,too, were coming with packages from Mr. Evans's, and the bustle keptBernard from thinking very deeply on what was going to happen; and yethe could not eat his breakfast, nor whistle, for he was not in hisusual spirits.
"At length the chaise came from the inn, and the trunks were broughtdown to be fastened on.
"Bernard placed himself at the window to look at what was being donewithout; and again he felt the same choking he had had on the hill.
"He heard his mother say, 'When shall we start, my dear?' and hisfather answer, 'In less than half an hour.' He saw his mother look athim with tears in her eyes. He could bear it no longer--he rushed outinto the shrubbery, and having got behind a laurestinus, he gave fullway to his tears--he could not then say, 'Who cares?'
"Lucilla saw him run out and followed him; she was weeping verybitterly; she threw her arms round him, and they both cried together.She kissed him many times, and they would not have parted then, hadthey not heard themselves called. Lucilla hastily then put a verypretty little Bible in his hand, and gave him another kiss.
"There only remained a tender parting between the boy and his parents;and whilst they were still blessing him they were driven away, and thepoor child was left standing alone on the gravel. His eyes followed thecarriage as long as it could be seen from that place; and then,observing some people coming in at the gate, he ran away. He took thepath through the shrubbery, and across a field, to a high green bank,from which he could trace the road a long way, even as far off as whereit passed under the round hill with the clump of firs on it, near tonurse's son's house.
"He sat down on the bank, waiting until the carriage should come insight again: for when it got down into the bottom of the valley, wherethere were many trees, it was hid from his view.
"This was perhaps the first time in Bernard's life in which he ever hadany really useful thoughts. He was made then to have some little notionthat he owed his present trouble to his having been a very rebelliousnaughty boy; but with this good thought came also a bad one: 'But ifpapa loves me as he ought to do, he would not have been so cruel as toleave me. He would have forgiven me and overlooked the past, and triedme again.'
"Bernard did not consider that it would actually have been verydangerous to have taken a disobedient boy to sea, for no one could tellwhat mischief he might have got into on board ship.
"When Bernard saw the carriage again, it looked like a speck on thewhite road. The speck seemed to grow smaller and smaller, and at lastit disappeared round the foot of the little hill. Then the poor boycried and cried again, until he could cry no longer, and every tearseemed to be dried up.
"No one can say how long he sat there, but it was a long time; at lasthe heard a voice, saying, 'Master Low! Master Low! where are you?' andthe next minute old Jacob, the gardener, appeared.
"Now Jacob was the only servant who had not helped to spoil Bernard,and therefore Bernard had never liked him, but always called him crossold Jacob. He was glad, however, to see him then; and yet he did notspeak first to him.
"'I am glad I have found you, Master,' said the old man; 'I have beenhunting you everywhere; and so has Mr. Evans. They be all come--MissGrizzy herself, and the two maids, and Master Stephen, and a power oftraps; and the lad that cleans the shoes and knives. But I shan't lethim meddle with the horses, which he is forward enough to do. But youmust come along with me. Master; they are all in trouble about you.'
"'Surely,' said Bernard, forgetting that one good thought which he hadhad a little before, 'I may go anywhere I please on my own papa'sgrounds; everything here is papa's, Jacob, and I am at home here.'
"'True,' replied Jacob, 'and so am I too; but neither you nor I ismaster here.'
"'That is just like you, Jacob,' answered Bernard; 'but I am themaster's son, and you are a servant.'
"'I could answer you from Scripture,' said Jacob, 'if I would.'
"'Do then!' cried Bernard.
"'Now I say, that the heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothingfrom a servant, though he be lord of all; but is under tutors andgovernors until the time appointed of the father' (Gal. iv. 1, 2).
"Bernard made no answer to this, but, getting up, walked before Jacobto the house. At the door he was met by Mr. Evans, who spoke to himkindly, said he hoped to make him happy, and to do everything for hisgood in his father's absence. He added also that Griffith and Meekinand Price were come, and were in the laundry, which was then to becalled the schoolroom; but that he should not call any of them that dayto lessons; only he hoped that he would not go far from the house, ashe was now accountable for his safety.
"Mr. Evans then walked away, and Bernard went to his own room, where hehad much difficulty to prevent himself from crying again; but happeningto light upon some penny pictures and a pair of scissors, he amusedhimself with cutting them all to pieces; first cutting out the figures,then the houses, and then the trees, till he had spoiled them all.
"At one o'clock the bell rang for dinner. Bernard did not stir tillsomebody had had the trouble of coming up to call him. The dinner waslaid in the family dining-room. Miss Grizzy was seated at the head ofthe table when Bernard came in; she was in very good humour, and smartas usual. Mr. Evans was in Mr. Low's place at the bottom; the boys oneach side.
"'Master Low,' said Miss Evans, as he came in, 'I hope you are well;here we are, you see, in your papa's handsome room, and here is yourchair by me. I don't ask you to sit down, for who has such a right tosit here as you have? Make room, Meekin. Surely there is room enough atthis large table? Sit a little lower, Griffith; and now, Master Low,what shall we give you?'
"All that was proud and selfish in the heart of poor Bernard was awakeand busy long before Miss Evans had finished her speech. The boy lookedround the table for what he liked best; but instead of asking, told theservant to take his plate for it, saying:
"'Don't give me fat, I don't like it.'
"'No fat for Master Low,' cried Miss Evans: and then again speaking tothe
boy, 'You have a charming house here, Master Low; I had no notionhow good it was till I went over it this morning. I tell the younggentlemen here that they must be very careful not to do mischief.'
"'They cannot do any, sister,' said Mr. Evans, 'if they keep to theirplaces. They must not go into the garden, there is abundant room forthem to play in elsewhere, and they shall have as much fruit as is goodfor them. Mind, boys, on honour, no going into the garden. You shallnot need, for as Mr. Low kindly leaves us the use of the fruit, youshall have your full share.'
"'You hear, young gentlemen,' said Miss Evans; 'Master Meekin, MasterGriffith, Master Price----'
"'And Master Low,' added Mr. Evans, 'you are, on honour, not to go intothe garden.'
"'Master Low!' repeated Miss Grizzy; 'Master Low not to go into hispapa's garden?'
"Mr. Evans never disputed with his sister before the boys, and not,indeed, very often when alone with her, for he loved peace andquietness, and she would always have many last words; so he said nomore; and she, tapping Bernard gently on the back, said, in a lowvoice:
"'That would be hard, would not it, to keep you out of your dear papa'sown garden?'
"'I should think so,' answered Bernard, in the same low voice.
"This was only the beginning; and as Miss Grizzy went on as she hadbegun, in setting up Bernard, and flattering him to the very utmost inher power, there is much reason to fear that he was not likely to bethe better for being left with her.
"Griffith, with his friends Meekin and Price, would soon have given hima lesson or two of another kind, had not Stephen watched them; butStephen had been well tutored by his aunt, and as much was gained themfrom Mr. Low's friendship, besides the honour of having Master Low atschool, they cared for nothing so much as keeping the naughty boy ingood humour.
"As to Mr. Evans, he was a simple, earnest man, not suspecting evil ofothers, and anxious to do good. He was kind to all his pupils; he nevermade a difference: and it was for his sake that any boys remained inthe house; so that he really caused the family to prosper, whilst hissister fancied it was all her own doing.
"The next day Mr. Evans began to give his lessons; and kept them onmost regularly till the Midsummer holidays. He was not aware thatBernard had any other indulgence but being helped first at table, whichhe did not quite like; and he kept him as close as the others at hislessons.
"But Miss Grizzy, and Stephen, and Bernard were too deep for him; andthere was no end of the indulgences given in private to the boy. He hadcakes, and puffs, and strawberries and cream given him, when nobody sawit, by Miss Evans.
"Stephen never took notice when he went beyond bounds unless his unclewas likely to catch him. He helped him privately at his lessons; andwhen set to hear him, often let him slip them altogether; and alwaystook his part when there was a quarrel between him and the other boys.The holidays made but little difference with Bernard. Mr. Evans gavehim a daily lesson, because he wanted to get him on. And as to otherthings, he could not be more spoiled and stuffed by Miss Grizzy at onetime than at another.
"Miss Grizzy all this while disliked him as much as Stephen did, andthat was with their whole hearts.
"Stephen called him a little proud, insolent puppy. And Miss Evans saidhe was the most greedy child she ever saw, and so wasteful andthankless, and one of the worst-mannered boys she ever had to dealwith.
"Stephen said the same to Meekin and Griffith and Price; he laid allthe partiality with which they charged him on his aunt, and said heonly wished he could have his way with him, and he would soon bringdown his airs, and teach him what he was made of.
"The same boys met again after the holidays, and things went on much inthe same way.
"Several letters were received from Mr. Low from different places; atlength one came, stating their arrival in New York, and their beingabout to go up the Hudson to Mr. John Low's house.
"The great indulgence with which Bernard was treated, and the bustlethat was made about him, together with the real kindness of Mr. Evans,made him very hard and careless about his parents.
"He used often to say, 'I do very well here; if papa stays longer thanhe at first intended I shall not fret after him, and I dare say he willnot fret after me, for if he had loved me so very much he would nothave left me behind.'
"Bernard could not forgive his father for leaving him; but whenever hetalked in this way not even Stephen could keep Griffith from speakinghis mind to him.
"'There you go again,' Griffith would say; 'always blaming your father,when the fault is all your own. Don't you know, Bernard, that there isnobody that can bear with you who thinks they have not something to getby you?'
"The name Noddy, which Stephen had forbidden, was got up again afterthe Midsummer holidays; and everything that Bernard did to make himselfdisagreeable was set down to this Noddy.
"At last Bernard got to the truth of this matter by being told byMeekin that if he wished to see Noddy, he must take a peep in thelooking-glass. On hearing this, Bernard struck Meekin, and if Stephenhad not come in, the spoiled boy for once would have got his deserts.
"Letters were again received from Mr. Low about December; he said inthem that his poor brother was very ill, not likely to live through thewinter; that it was impossible for him to leave him, and that at allevents he meant to stay till the season for crossing the sea should bebetter. Lucilla at the same time wrote a long letter to her brother.
"The Christmas holidays passed, and nothing particular happened; thesame boys met again after Christmas, and another boy came also; butBernard despised him as much as he did Meekin and Griffith and Price,because he had heard it said that his father kept a shop.
"January passed, and February, and March; another letter had come fromMr. Low; poor Mr. John Low was dead, and Mr. Low was busy settling hisaffairs. Mr. John Low had left his brother a good deal of money, butMr. Low did not say anything about that; Miss Grizzy therefore made itout that there was none.
"Another letter arrived at the end of March to say that Captain Lewiswas to sail for England in the _Dory_ in a few days, and that Mr. Lowhoped to come with him. There was another sweet letter from Lucilla,telling how many pretty things she had collected for her dear brother.
"It was about four weeks after these two last letters had beenreceived, when one morning Mr. Evans came in a great hurry, and with aface of much trouble, into the school-room, and called out Stephen.Stephen came back five minutes afterwards, and told the boys that hisuncle had been called suddenly away, and they had leave to play.
"'Good news--good news!' cried Griffith, and away ran the four pupils,with Stephen after them; whilst Bernard went into the house to see whathe could get.
"As he came into the hall he saw that the parlour door was open, and heheard people talking within. Miss Grizzy was in the parlour, and shewas talking to a neighbour who had dropped in. The coming of thatneighbour, Bernard thought, had something to do with the holiday sosuddenly given, and by listening he thought he might find something outabout this holiday.
"The words Bernard heard were these:
"'I know, Mrs. Smith, better than most, that the family had nothing todepend upon but the living. To be sure, the living is very good, andmuch might be saved out of it for the children, but if what we hear istrue they will come but poorly off, I fear.'
"'You forget, Miss Evans,' answered Mrs. Smith, 'that if what we hearbe true--and I fear it is--there is only one left to provide for.'
"As Bernard drew closer to the door to hear more, he knocked his footagainst it, and Miss Grizzy called out:
"'Who is there?'
"Bernard walked into the parlour at the call, in his usual manner, andwithout taking any notice of Mrs. Smith, he said:
"'I want some bread and butter.'
"'What, already?' cried Miss Grizzy tartly; 'don't you see that I amtalking business with my neighbour, Master Low? Come, you had best goto play, and mind to shut the door after you.'
"Bernard looked at her with a look which seemed to say, '
What's thematter now?' and walked away, leaving the door as wide open as he couldpush it.
"He walked into the garden, but old Jacob was not there, and then hewent to the back of the house to look for the other boys. He had heardtheir voices at a distance, when he got there, and saw them in the veryfield where he had sat with Lucilla. Their voices came straight overthe valley; but it was a long way to go, down first and up again, tothem. However, he set out to go, and in his way had to pass by the doorof a cottage near the brook. In this cottage lived an old woman, whohad been supported for some years by his father's family, though shecould do little in return. She was sitting on the step, with her faceon her knees, crying bitterly.
"'What now, Betty?' said Bernard.
"'Ah, Master Low!' she said, looking up, 'is it you, my preciousmaster, and do you say, what's the matter now? Have not they told you?The hardened creatures to keep such news from you!'
"And she then told him the real cause of the breaking up of the school,the absence of Mr. Evans and Jacob, and the visit of Mrs. Smith. Newshad come that day to Rookdale, that the _Dory_ had been lost at sea,and gone down with every creature on board: having been seen tofounder by some other vessel, in a dreadful squall off some island.
"Mr. Evans had gone immediately to discover the truth of this account,which was in a newspaper. It is not known where he went, or to whom hewrote letters; but this is certain, that he only obtained confirmationof the dreadful news, and as weeks passed, and nothing was heard fromMr. Low or of the _Dory_, every one, of course, believed that poorBernard was an orphan.
"Miss Grizzy began to think where the money was to come from to pay forBernard's keep; for what had been said was very true, Mr. Low had hadlittle to depend upon but his living; or if he had saved anything, itcould not be known where his savings were, till his papers could belooked up, and that could not be done until it was as certain as mightbe that he was really dead.
"Poor Bernard!--now his time of trial had come: he was quite unpreparedfor the story old Betty told him. Mr. Evans had wished it might for thepresent be kept from him. He fell down like one struck with death whenhe heard the story.
"The old woman screamed; at her cry, Stephen and the boys, who were notfar off, came running to her; more help was called, Bernard was liftedup, and carried to the house and put to bed.
"When laid on his bed, it was found that the sudden shock had made himvery ill, and there was fear of inflammation of the brain. The doctorwas sent for, he was bled more than once, his head was shaved, and alarge blister put upon it. He was reduced to be as weak as a baby: hecalled often, when he knew not what he said, for his father and hismother, and his own sweet Lucilla; and when he recollected that he hadheard they were dead, he called for his nurse.
"Nurse came the moment she heard of his illness; but Mr. Evans was notcome home, he was absent more than ten days, and Miss Grizzy would notlet nurse see him. In grief and anger the old woman went home, and tookto her bed almost as ill as poor Bernard.
"Miss Grizzy was the person who watched by Bernard's bed, and saw thateverything the doctor ordered was done; but Bernard fancied she was notthe same Miss Grizzy that used to smile upon him and flatter him inpast times, she looked so grave, and said so often, 'That _must_ bedone, Master Low.'
"Bernard, however, did not think much about her; his whole mind wasfilled, till his head got well, with thoughts of his parents andsister, and even of his little brothers, whom he had never seen. And inthis time of suffering and weakness he began to be sincerely sorry forhis past naughtiness.
"Mr. Evans came back without any hope respecting Mr. Low. He was verymuch grieved, especially for Bernard, and showed his kindness byvisiting him often in his room; and when the boy was better, anotherfriend showed himself; this was Griffith, who had made up his mindnever again to quiz Bernard so long as he lived. He came often to him,and even read to him in the Bible Lucilla had given. Jacob too showedhis deep affection for his little master. But Jacob himself was soonafterwards taken ill, and Miss Grizzy contrived that he should be sentaway till he got better. So Bernard was made to feel that those werenot his real friends who flattered him when all seemed to be well withhim.
"Time passed on, Bernard's health was restored, and he was able to comedown as usual. He went down to dinner the first day on a Sunday. He hadbeen well enough to go down the Monday before, but Miss Grizzy hadfixed on Sunday for the day; perhaps because her brother, who had twochurches to serve, would not be at dinner. When Bernard came into theroom, he looked at the place where he used to sit, but Master Larkin,the new pupil, was in it. There was a place kept for him by Stephen atthe bottom of the table.
"'You are older than Larkin, Low,' said Stephen, 'and must give up theplace of pet to him.' Bernard sat down. He did not just then understandthe reason of being put out of his place--he had this to learn amongstother things. He was not asked what he would like, but helped in histurn; and when dinner was over, he was not asked if he would like tostay in the parlour, but told, if he felt tired, to go and lie on hisown bed. At tea he was treated like the other boys, and at supper also,and from that time this went on. If Mr. Evans saw it, he did notinterfere; but this good man was very absent, and many things passedbefore him which he did not notice.
"After a few days, one would have thought that Miss Evans and hernephew had ceased to care altogether about Bernard's feelings; theybegan to talk before him of who was to have the house and living, andthat it was necessary to take great care of the house and furniture;and Bernard was told that he must not run rampaging about as he haddone formerly; for, as Miss Grizzy said, there was little enough left,she feared, for his maintenance, and there was no need to make thingsworse.
"It was a hard lesson for the spoiled boy to be taught to be patientunder these mortifications, and never to fire up and answer these cruelhints; but he was patient, he bore much and said little. He felt thathe deserved to be humbled in this way, and he tried to be submissive.
"Another month or six weeks went, and Bernard had only two earthlycomforts: one was from the gentleness of Mr. Evans, and the other fromthe rough kindness of Griffith, who gave Meekin a sound drubbing oneday for calling Bernard Noddy.
"'Why,' said Meekin, 'did not _you_ give him the name?'
"'I did,' answered Griffith; 'but he shan't hear it now, never again.'
"The season of Whitsuntide had come round, and the boys were to go homefor a week, and only Meekin, Low, and Stephen were left. The bells werenot set to ring as usual on Sunday morning; the ringers were thoughtfulenough to refuse to ring; but Stephen was resolved to have a peal, andhe and Meekin and the big boy who worked about the place, and one otherwhom they contrived to muster, had one peal on the Sunday, and severalothers on the Monday.
"The return of Whitsuntide made Bernard more unhappy than he had beenfor many days. He remembered that time a year ago so very exactly, andwhat everybody had then said and done--his own bad behaviourespecially. He had a very sad Sunday, and got up even more sad on theMonday morning.
"Miss Grizzy had put him out of his old sleeping-room after hisrecovery, into a little room which looked over the stable yard. Beforehe was dressed he heard talking in the yard. He dressed in haste, andran to the window, and there he saw just below him a young man calledBenjamin, the same who had helped to ring the bells with Stephen andMeekin and the servant boy--all gathered together examining Lucilla'spony. Bernard could not hear what they said, and the bell rang forbreakfast before he had time to ask.
"When he came down, he was sorry to find that Mr. Evans was gone out.He asked Meekin how long he was to stay from home; and Stephenanswered:
"'Maybe all the week; maybe a month; maybe he wishes to try what sortof a schoolmaster I should make in his absence.'
"'Oh! I hope not,' said Bernard, speaking hastily and without thinking.
"'You do, do you?' answered Stephen spitefully; 'well, we shall see.'
"'It don't become you, Low, to speak in such a way now,' said MissGrizzy, 'you are not mas
ter here, now. You can't count upon this placebeing yours more than my brother's any longer; it is just as well thatyou know the truth, and know at once what to expect. The living wentfrom the family when your father died, and it is feared that there willnot be much left for your keep when the things are sold, and everythingpaid.'
"The tears stood in Bernard's eyes--not that he attended to all thewords Miss Grizzy said; he was thinking of that day a year ago, of hisown ill behaviour, and of the kindness of his sweet Lucilla.
"'Oh!' he thought, 'how could I have run away from my gentle sister togo to that cruel Stephen?'
"Stephen and Meekin walked off in a hurry, after they had breakfasted,and Miss Grizzy sent Bernard after them. He followed them slowly, andyet did not like to stay long behind them.
"They were gone again into the yard, and there was Benjamin, and theservant boy, and the pony. Stephen was talking of the pony, and givinghis orders: the pony had a long tail, and his mane wanted putting inorder.
"'You must dock the tail close, Ben,' were the words that Bernardheard; 'she will sell for nothing in that fashion.'
"'Oh, no, no!' cried Bernard, running forward, 'Lucilla would not likeit; she said she would always have it long to flitch away the flies.'
"'Who bid you speak?' said Stephen.
"'Is she not my horse now?' cried Bernard.
"'No more yours than mine,' replied Stephen.
"'Don't cut her tail, Benjamin,' returned Bernard.
"'Hold your peace,' said Stephen.
"'Only stay till Mr. Evans comes home,' said Bernard.
"'Do it now,' said Stephen.
"Bernard was beside himself; he called Stephen cruel, deceitful, andanything else he could think of, and he tried to seize the halter ofthe pony.
"Stephen dragged him away, and in the scuffle thought Bernard hadstruck him; Meekin swore that he did.
"Stephen, when set up, was furiously passionate, and without takingtime for thought, he snatched a switch from the hand of Ben, and laidit on Bernard till his back and even the sides of his face were coveredwith wheals. The poor boy ran, and Stephen after him. Stephen was eventhe more provoked because Benjamin cried to him to desist.
"Bernard at last got away from him by a little gate which led into thegarden, and he continued to run until he had come to the arbour and thegrotto. He had never gone to that corner of the shrubbery since thenews had come of the loss of the _Dory_; and at first, when he almostdropped down on one of the benches, he scarcely recollected where hewas. He was seated exactly where he had sat with Lucilla on the lastWhitsun-Monday. The mouth of the grotto was exactly before him; thewinter's wind had driven the dead damp leaves into it, and there hadbeen no one to clear them away. The highest point of the little windowin the back, which Lucilla herself had painted on a piece of board,just peeped above the heap of leaves. Bernard thought of the toolsLucilla had bought; they were lying, no doubt, rusting in a corner.
"'Oh, Lucilla!' he cried; and bursting into tears, he laid his hands onthe table, and stooped his face upon them: the board was quite wet withhis tears when he looked up again.
"He was startled by the sudden ringing out of the bells. Stephen andthe boys had gone to cool themselves in the belfry, after leaving thepony undocked in the field.
"How did those bells remind the unhappy boy of the year before, for hehad heard them when sitting in that very place with Lucilla! Heremembered his hardness and pride at that time, and like the ProdigalSon to his father, he cried to his God, 'I have sinned against heavenand before Thee, and am not worthy to be called Thy son.'
"Could Lucilla have foreknown in what spirit her dear brother wouldhave spoken those words in that place, at the end of twelve monthsafter she had brought him there, she would have been filled with joy,and would have said, 'My God, I thank Thee, for Thou hast heard myprayers.'
"When Bernard was getting more calm, his tears were made to flow againby the sight of the broken splinters and one of Lucilla's beads on thegravel at his feet. He took up the bead, wrapped it in a bit of paper,put it into his waistcoat pocket, and went out of the shrubbery by thewicket close by into the wood.
"As he walked along his wandering eye at last settled upon that spot ofground, at the foot of the round hill with the crown of fir-trees,where the carriage which had taken away his parents had disappeared. Hethought then of his nurse, and that she had been one of those to whomhe had behaved ill.
"'Poor nurse!' he said to himself, 'I will go to beg her pardon, and Iwill get her to let me live with her, and never let me come back tothis place again. Nurse will give me bread, and I shall want nothingelse. I will go;' and he got up and looked to see which was theshortest way to get to the round hill. When he fancied he had made thisout, he got up and set off slowly, for by this time the stripes givenhim by the switch had got stiff; but he had set his mind on going tonurse's, and, indeed, he did not dare to go home.
"Oh, what a long and dreary way did he find it! The first half-mile wastolerably level, but the next two miles and a half were all uphill,only with a very little going down sometimes. The sun was shiningwithout clouds, and his bones were sore, and he was getting hungry; andwhat was worse than all, his heart was very sad, and the road wassolitary. He scarcely met anyone, excepting a party of people withasses; still he often caught sight of the round hill, and found himselfgetting nearer to it: he thought it looked higher, and higher, andhigher as he went on, and he had to go beyond it. It was quite noondaybefore he reached the foot of it; and there he had to ask a man, whowas breaking stones on the road, the nearest way to the common. The manshowed him a deep lane a little further, up which he was to go, andwhen he had got to the end of it, he saw the common and therabbit-burrows, and sheep, and geese, and many cottages. He asked atmany doors before he could learn where nurse lived; but when he saw herhouse he was pleased, because it looked larger and neater than theothers, and he thought there would be room for him. It stood in apretty garden, surrounded with a neat quickset hedge, nicely shorn.
"He opened the wicket-gate without fear, and walked up to the door. Hesaw a neat kitchen within, for the door was half open; he knocked, andcalled, 'Is nurse at home?' No one answered at first, but soon he hearda step, and nurse's daughter-in-law appeared.
"She was a tall, hard-looking woman, and the first words she said,were:
"'Surely it is not you, Master Low, and in such a plight? Why, you havebeen a-fighting.'
"'I want nurse,' said Bernard.
"'What, mother-in-law?' answered the woman; 'you can't see her.'
"'Why?' answered Bernard.
"'She is sick in bed,' said the woman.
"'Let me go up and see her, if you please,' said Bernard.
"'You can't do no such thing,' said the woman; 'she is not in thehouse, and if she was she could not have much to say to you. Has notMiss Grizzy forbid her to come about you? and times are hard, MasterLow. You has run away from school, I doubt not, by the look of you. Youhas been a-fighting. Don't think that we shall go to harbour you here,and get nothing but cross words for our pains. Miss Grizzy told motherthat there would be nothing a-coming to you when all was paid. So goback as fast as you can; you can't come in. Go back, there's a goodlad.'
"She then, in her great goodness, handed him a crust and a bit of drycheese, and pushed him from the door; for she was afraid that herhusband and his mother, who were both out, might come in before thechild was gone.
"Bernard hardly knew what he did when he took the bread and cheese, andfelt the hand of the woman pushing him out. He could not eat what wasgiven him, for he was parched with thirst, and his young heart wasalmost broken by his disappointment. Even to nurse he had behaved ill,and now he thought that even she had forsaken him. He dragged himselfback through the deep lane, and being again in the highroad at the footof the hill, he sat, or rather stretched, himself on a green bankunder a hedge; and having cried again till he could cry no longer, hefell into a sort of stupor, neither asleep nor otherwise, quite wornwith tiredness, an
d thirst, and sorrow.
"About the time when Bernard was turned from nurse's door, thedinner-bell at his papa's house was ringing, and Miss Evans waiting atthe head of the table ready to carve.
"Before the bell had done tinkling, Stephen and Meekin came in, andMiss Grizzy said:
"'Where is Low? I suppose he does not expect us to wait for him.'
"Stephen looked at Meekin, and Meekin looked at Stephen. Stephen wasnot quite easy in the thought of the severe beating which he had givenBernard; but as it was expected that Mr. Evans would not return tillthe evening of the next day, he trusted that there would be nothingabout Bernard to lead his uncle to inquire about what had happened inhis absence.
"'The boy is sulking somewhere,' he thought, 'and when he is hungry hewill show himself;' and with this thought he went to the bottom of thetable; and they had all just seated themselves, when in walked Mr.Evans.
"Miss Grizzy set up a shriek of wonder, and Stephen turned scarlet.
"Mr. Evans had set out with the intention of going to the Bishop, underwhom he and Mr. Low lived, to ask him about some little difficultywhich had arisen in the management of the parish, and to beg thatthings might remain as they were, until more decided news could be gotof the loss of the ship.
"The worthy man was not thinking of himself, but of poor Bernard. Hehad hardly gone ten miles of the thirty he had to go, when he met theBishop's coach, and had the opportunity of settling his business in afew minutes. And what had he then to do but to stop at a little inn bythe wayside to refresh his horse, and go quietly home, much pleased bythe kindness of the Bishop?
"When he had, in a few words, explained how it happened that he was athome so soon, he was preparing to sit down to dinner, when he missedBernard.
"'Where is Master Low?' he said, looking round. 'Where is Bernard,sister? Stephen, where is the child?'
"There was a certain something in the flushed features and stammeringanswers of Stephen which struck even the unsuspicious Mr. Evans, andwhen he was once roused he could show great firmness. He insisted thatthe little boy should appear; and when he did not answer to any call,or to the repeated ringing of the bell, he ordered the dinner away.
"'No one in the house shall dine, sister Grizzy,' he said, 'till theorphan is found. Mind what I say. Do you, boys, run in all directions;let the women go also, and bring the poor child to me. You, Stephen,have been quarrelling with him.'
"'Sir,' said Meekin, 'he struck Mr. Stephen.'
"'No, Master Meekin,' said the boy who was waiting at table, 'I did notsee as he did; nor Ben neither, and he was by.'
"'No matter now,' said Mr. Evans; 'be off, all of you, and bring thechild to me.'
"And Mr. Evans sat down, having no expectation but that Bernard wouldbe brought in, with the tear in his eye, but safe and sound, in a fewminutes. He waited alone, maybe a quarter of an hour, and then wentout, becoming more frightened every moment.
"There was a set of people, such as sell pottery, happening to pass upthe road at the minute Mr. Evans went out of the gate; and he bethoughthimself of asking them if they had met a little boy in their way,describing Bernard.
"The old woman of the party told him that they had met such a boy, andtold him also exactly where. It struck Mr. Evans at once that the childhad set out to go to nurse's; and without losing another minute hecalled Tom, ordered him to saddle the pony, and was on his way towardsnurse's not ten minutes after he had spoken to the old woman. He madethe pony go at a very brisk trot, wherever the steepness of the roadwould allow.
"Bernard had really fallen asleep under the hedge after some time, andhad only just awakened when Mr. Evans came trotting round the foot ofthe hill.
"The worthy man no sooner saw him than he came almost cantering up,sprang from the quiet pony, and caught him in his arms.
"'My son! my child!' he said, whilst his eyes filled with tears; 'mypoor boy, why are you here? What has happened? Do you not know thatwhen you lost a better father, you became to me like a son, and that Ithen resolved to be a father to you so long as you needed one? Ifanything goes wrong with you, my boy, under my roof, come to me andtell me, as you would have done to your own father, and be sure that solong as I have a loaf you shall have a son's portion of it.'
"No one can describe the effect of Mr. Evans's kindness on the heart ofpoor Bernard; again and again he fell on his neck and kissed him; andso full of love and gentleness was the child that he whispered:
"'Don't ask me why I ran away; I promise you that when I run again fromthe same people, I will run to you; and if you are out, I will onlyhide myself till you come back.'
"'It shall not happen again,' said Mr. Evans, who had observed themarks of the strokes on the child's face; 'it shall not happen again; Iwill prevent it; but I will ask no questions.'
"So saying, he lifted Bernard on the pony with the long tail, andtaking the bridle in his hand, they set off together down the hill.
"Mr. Evans had gone off in such a hurry that he had not told anyonethat he had heard of Bernard; and therefore, without planning any suchthing, he had left the people at home in the greatest trouble, theiralarm becoming more and more every minute in which the child could notbe found.
"Mr. Evans and Bernard had first, in their way from the round hill, togo down a very steep bit of road, into a kind of hollow where were abrook and many trees, and then beyond which was a rise, and thenanother deep descent. When Bernard came to the brook, he begged that hemight get off and drink a little water in the hollow of his hand; andwhen he had done so, he tried to make Mr. Evans mount the pony whilsthe walked. But the kind man would not hear of any such thing; he liftedBernard on the horse again, and they were just going to ascend thebank, when they heard a voice behind them, crying: 'Stop, stop, MasterBernard.'
"They looked back, and there was nurse; she had come home about an hourbefore, and having heard by some chance who had been at the cottage andbeen sent away, she had had a violent quarrel with her daughter-in-law,and had come posting after her boy.
"But before Mr. Evans and Bernard knew the voice, there was a sound ofcarriage-wheels coming from behind nurse; and so quick upon her wasthe carriage, that the horses' heads were in a line with her, whenBernard and Mr. Evans turned to see who called them. The road justthere was not only steep but narrow.
"'That is nurse,' said Mr. Evans; 'but we must not stop just here, orthe carriage will be upon us; a little above there is room for the ponyto stand aside, and the ground is there more level for the feet.'
"So for the next minute or more the three parties all went on, Mr.Evans and Bernard going up slowly towards the level place; the carriagecoming rapidly down the road, being drawn by horses used to steeperhills than that; and nurse behind at the top of her speed after thecarriage.
"Those in the carriage had known nurse as they passed, though she neveronce looked up to them; and they knew also Bernard, and good Mr. Evans,and the long-tailed pony.
"When Mr. Evans had reached the bit of level ground, which might havebeen fifty feet, or more, from the bottom of the valley, he stopped,and lifted Bernard off the pony to wait for nurse.
"The carriage, too, stopped at the brook, and there was a cry from it.'Bernard, Bernard! It is our dear, dear Bernard; open the door, openthe door.' The door was burst open from within, and out sprang Lucilla,flying forward to her brother. She was followed by Mr. and Mrs. Low, assoon as the postboy could let down the steps.
"Bernard made one effort to rush to meet Lucilla, and then fellunconscious upon the ground.
"It is impossible to give an account of such a scene; the people whowere present could tell nothing about it themselves. Mr. and Mrs. Lowand Lucilla could not understand why everyone should be so surprisedto see them; why Bernard should faint, why nurse should scream, and whyMr. Evans should look so white.
"They had suffered much in a terrible storm, and been driven far out oftheir course, and been obliged to lie for months in some far-offharbour for repairs, and had had a long and weary voyage. B
ut they hadwritten letters, and supposed all this was known at home. The letters,however, having been sent from a very out-of-the-way place, had neverarrived, but this they could not know.
"They were not surprised at anything, when they found that all theirfriends and neighbours had thought them dead; and when Bernard, havinghad his temples bathed with water, opened his eyes and recovered hiscolour, and began to shed tears, they were no longer frightened abouthim. He was then lifted into the carriage, and held in the arms of hisown father; nurse got upon a trunk behind, Mr. Evans mounted the pony,and on they went, having now only down hill to go to the village.
"'Let us pass quietly, if possible, through the village,' said Mr. Low,'that we may get our dear boy home as soon as possible;' but Mr. Lowcould not have everything as he wished. The news was told at the veryfirst house, which was the turn-pike, by Mr. Evans before the carriage,and by nurse behind it; and the whole street was up in a moment. Therewas such joy, that men, women, and children set up shouts; and fouryoung men, who were enjoying the Whitsun holidays, flew to the churchand set the bells a-ringing before the carriage came in sight of therectory.
"'Surely,' said Miss Grizzy to the dairy-maid, 'those lads are not goneoff to the belfry, and that plague of a boy, young Low, not found yet!I always said he was the most ill-conditioned child that ever lived;and I know now he is only hiding out of malice to my poor Stephen.'
"Before she could finish her speech there was a sound of wheels and ofhorses, and the barking of all the dogs about, and of doors opening;and the very next minute in came nurse with the news into the dairy.
"Miss Grizzy was almost as ready to faint as Bernard had been--but notfrom pleasure; all her unkindnesses to the child rose before her mind,and it was with the greatest difficulty that she could put on even theappearance of being glad, whilst her worthy brother's heart was liftedup with joy.
"When Stephen heard the news, as he came skulking in to tell his aunthe could find Bernard nowhere, he walked himself off with Meekin, anddid not return till night; but he need not have done so, for Bernardnever uttered a complaint against him or anybody else, though he spokecontinually of the very great kindness of Mr. Evans.
"The happiness of Lucilla that evening was complete. Bernard had hardlyspoken to her before she found how changed he was.
"Mr. Low was equally thankful; and Mrs. Low and nurse, though they didnot understand the cause of the change so clearly, yet felt that theirdarling was a new and improved creature. Mr. Low, having it now in hispower, did much to assist Mr. Evans in many ways; he felt all hiskindnesses; he helped to furnish his new rooms, and raised his salaryas a curate.
"Miss Grizzy and Stephen left him almost immediately. Miss Grizzy wentto keep the house of a cross old uncle, and Stephen went to hisparents. Mr. Evans took nurse for a housekeeper, and whether shemanaged well or ill for him people do not agree; but this is certain,that all the boys, especially the little ones, liked her so much thatMr. Evans soon found even his larger house too small for his pupils.
"The last we heard of Mr. Low's family was that Bernard and Lucilla hadfurnished the grotto so beautifully that every person in theneighbourhood came to see it; and that this brother and sister were thedelight of their parents, and the comforters of every poor old personor orphan child in the parish."
Bernard rushed to meet Lucilla]
The Fairchild Family Page 37