FINDING A HOME.
Before Arthur could recover in the slightest from his bewilderment at
this wonderful and undreamed-of appearance of his beautiful lady in such
a place, she stepped forward and caught him in her arms. “Oh, my little
Prince Dusty! My dear little Prince Dusty!” she cried. “Where have you
been? How did you get here? Do you know that I am your cousin? Your own
cousin, Harriet Dale, and that I live at Dalecourt? I never was so
utterly amazed in my life as I am to find you here! We knew that you had
left the Dustins; but nobody could tell where, or how, you had gone. And
to think that you should have come to Dalecourt! I don’t see how you
ever found the way! It is the very most wonderful thing I ever heard of!
How did you get here? But, no matter now. How thoughtless I am to stand
here asking all these questions. You look frozen and starved, poor
child, and the first thing is to get you home as quickly as possible.
Who is this with you? Not Uncle Phin! Surely not the Uncle Phin who used
to be so good to me when I was a little girl?”
“Yes, Miss Hatty,” answered the old man, who had scrambled stiffly to
his feet upon her entrance, and now stood with his white head uncovered,
laughing and crying at the same time. “Hit am de same ole Unc Phin, an
he tank de good Lawd he is lib to see a shuah nough Dale once mo. He
done bring lil Marse home, Miss Hatty. Hits been powerful hard wuk; but
de Lawd done sen He rabens, an He fiery chariots, an He pillows ob
smoke, an now He done sen you Miss Hatty, like a bressed angel, fur to
delibber us.”
“He has indeed been very good to us,” said the young lady, gently. “Now
we must get this dear child home at once.”
The carriage in which Miss Hatty was driving home from Richmond, when
her curiosity was attracted by the strange scene in the little old
cabin, was now brought to the door. Uncle Phin, feebly protesting that
it was all too fine and too grand for a “wuffless ole niggah” like him,
was made to take the front seat; while on the other sat Miss Harriet
Dale, with ragged, tired, hungry, but intensely happy Arthur nestled
close beside her.
The perplexing tumult of his feelings was such that, up to this time, he
had not spoken a word; and even now he wondered if it were not all a
beautiful dream, from which he would awake to find himself lying on the
floor of the cabin. It seemed as though his own dear mother must have
come back; that it was her loving arm now thrown protectingly about him,
and he almost feared to speak, lest she might disappear, as she always
did when he waked from dreaming of her. But the beautiful lady was
talking to him and asking him questions.
She could not wait until they reached home to learn how these two had
wandered from the far-away place in which she had met her “Prince
Dusty,” to this one. It was such a wonderful journey for them to have
undertaken, that her impatience to know something of it could not be
restrained. So she asked question after question, that Arthur and Uncle
Phin answered to the best of their ability, until at length she knew
enough of the principal events of their pilgrimage to make it seem
marvellous that they should ever have accomplished it.
Among other things she learned of their experience in the runaway
caboose of freight train No. 15, in the Alleghany Mountains, and this
seemed to interest her more than all the rest.
Then she wanted to know if the book from which Arthur had been reading
to Uncle Phin, and which he now carried clasped tightly in both hands,
could be the same that she had given him so long ago, and how he had
been able to keep it all this time.
“Of course it is,” answered Arthur, “and of course I have kept it. It is
the very most precious thing I own in the world; and nothing but
beautiful things, just like its stories, have happened ever since you
gave it to me. I had to let Rusty go to get us here; but I would never,
never, have let my book go, not even if we had been starving.”
Then Miss Hatty had to be told who Rusty was, and what a dear dog he
was, and how hard it had been to part with him, and how Arthur hoped
there would be some horses for him to hold at Dalecourt, or errands to
be run, so that he could earn money enough to buy him back again.
It was too dark for them to see anything of the Park, once so carefully
kept, but now neglected and overgrown, through which they drove for half
a mile after turning in at the Dalecourt gateway; but Arthur felt a
thrill of happiness when his cousin told him where they were. It seemed
incredible that his long, weary journey, with all its hunger and cold
and suffering, was past, and that he was really at the home he had so
longed to reach. How beautiful it was to be welcomed so warmly and
lovingly, when he had sometimes feared they might not even receive him
at all.
At length the carriage stopped before a great rambling house, that had
been very stately and handsome in bygone years; but which was now so
dilapidated and shabby as to be but a forlorn relic of its former glory.
However, it still contained much of comfort and good cheer; and, as the
great front door was flung open, the warm glow of a huge log fire sprang
out upon the cold darkness, and drove it back. It seemed to Arthur as
though the very house offered him a welcome of light and warmth, and he
loved it from that moment.
From the open doorway stepped an elderly gentleman, with iron-gray hair
and mustache, and an erect military bearing, who called out:
“Welcome home, Niece Harriet! We’ve had lonely holidays without you; and
right glad am I to have you back again.”
“No more so than I am to be here, uncle!” exclaimed Miss Hatty,
springing lightly from the carriage and heartily kissing the elderly
gentleman, who was Colonel Arthur Dale, of Dalecourt, and Arthur’s
grandfather. “And, uncle, I’ve brought home a friend of yours, whom I
picked up on the road. He is the very boy you were speaking of so
recently, who saved your train, in the Alleghanies, from a collision.”
“Eh! what’s that?” cried Colonel Dale. “You have found that boy? How in
the name of goodness—But bring him in! Bring him in where we can have a
look at him. It’s too cold to stand out here any longer.”
So the young lady followed her uncle into the glowing hall, leading
Arthur by the hand, while Uncle Phin hobbled after them. The boy’s mind
was filled with a whirl of conflicting emotions, as he stepped, for the
first time, across the threshold of his mother’s home, and gazed on the
form of his nearest living relative. Had he tried to speak at that
moment his feelings would have choked him; but he gave no outward sign
of his mental condition, except by clasping more firmly the kind hand
that led him forward.
When fairly within the circle of ruddy firelight, that filled the
oak-panelled interior with its cheery glow, Colonel Dale turned for a
look at the stranger whom his niece had so curiously discovered and
brought home with her. As his glance fell on the ragged little figure at
her side, the words that were upon his lips died away, a sudden pallor
overspread his countenance, and he gazed in silence.
What did he see in that sweet face, now so thin and careworn? In its
brave blue eyes? In the fair head of clustering ringlets? What was it
that, for a moment, rendered him speechless and powerless to do aught
save stare? It seemed to him that he saw a spirit.
“Who is he, Harriet?” he almost gasped, at length. “Where did you find
him? He is the living image of my dead daughter?”
“He is that dead daughter’s child, uncle. He is your own grandson
Arthur, and my little ‘Prince Dusty,’” was the answer.
The next instant the boy was clasped in a loving, forgiving, all-atoning
embrace, and had found a place in his grandfather’s heart, that he would
never resign so long as life lasted.