by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER III.
A LITTLE PEACEMAKER.
It was a very strange event which had befallen old Oliver. He went backto his own chair, where he smoked his Broseley pipe every night, and sankdown in it, rubbing his legs softly; for it was a long time since he hadnursed any child, and even Dolly's small weight was a burden to him. Hertiny clothes were scattered up and down, and there was no one besidehimself to gather them together, and fold them straight. In shaking outher frock a letter fell from it, and Oliver picked it up wonderingwhoever it could be for. It was directed to himself, "Mr. James Oliver,News-agent," and he broke the seal with eager expectation. The contentswere these, written in a handwriting which he knew at first sight to behis daughter's:--
"DEAR FATHER,
"I am very very sorry I ever did anything to make you angry with me. Thisis your poor Susan's little girl, as is come to be a little peacemakerbetwixt you and me. I'm certain sure you'll never turn her away from yourdoor. I'm going down to Portsmouth for three days, because he listed fivemonths ago, and his regiment's ordered out to India, and he sails onFriday. So I thought I wouldn't take my little girl to be in the way, andI said I'll leave her with father till I come back, and her pretty littleways will soften him towards me, and we'll live all together in peace andplenty till his regiment comes home again, poor fellow. For he's verygood to me when he's not in liquor, which is seldom for a man. Please doforgive me for pity's sake, and for Christ's sake, if I'm worthy to usehis name, and do take care of my little girl till I come home to you bothon Friday, From your now dutiful daughter,
"POOR SUSAN."
The tears rolled fast down old Oliver's cheeks as he read this letterthrough twice, speaking the words half aloud to himself. Why! this washis own little grandchild, then--his very own! And no doubt Susan hadchristened her Dorothy, after her own mother, his dear wife, who had diedso many years ago. Dolly was the short for Dorothy, and in early times hehad often called his wife by that name. He had turned his gas off andlighted a candle, and now he took it up and went to the bedside to lookat his new treasure. The tiny face lying upon his pillow was rosy withsleep, and the fair curly hair was tossed about in pretty disorder. Hisspectacles grew very dim indeed, and he was obliged to polish themcarefully on his cotton handkerchief before he could see hisgrand-daughter plainly enough. Then he touched her dimpled cheektremblingly with the end of his finger, and sobbed out, "Bless her! blessher!" He returned to his chair, his head shaking a good deal before hecould regain his composure; and it was not until he had kindled his pipe,and was smoking it, with his face turned towards the sleeping child, thathe felt at all like himself again.
"Dear Lord!" he said, half aloud, between the whiffs of his pipe, "dearLord! how very good thou art to me! Didst thee not say, 'I'll not leavethee comfortless, I'll come to thee?' I know what that means, bless thyname; and the good Spirit has many a time brought me comfort, and cheeredmy heart. I know thou didst not leave me alone before. No, no! that wasfar from thee, Lord. Alone!--why, thou'rt always here; and now there'sthe little lass as well. Lonesome!--they don't know thee, Lord, and theydon't know me. Thou'rt here, with the little lass and me. Yes,yes,--yes."
He murmured the word "yes" in a tone of contentment over and over again,until, the pipe being finished, he prepared for sleep also. But no sleepcame to the old man. He was too full of thought, and too fearful of thechild waking in the night and wanting something. The air was close andhot, and now and then a peal of thunder broke overhead; but a profoundpeace and tranquillity, slightly troubled by his new joy, held possessionof him. His grandchild was there, and his daughter was coming back to himin three days.
Oh, how he would welcome her! He would not let her speak one word of herwilfulness and disobedience, and the long, cruel neglect which had lefthim in ignorance of where she lived, and what had become of her. It waspartly his fault, for having been too hard upon her, and too hasty andhot-tempered. He had learnt better since then.