A Little Messenger
Miss Fairfax seemed the most talkative, but her conversation was a
perpetual flow of complaints; the food, the weather, and her ailments
were her chief topics, and Betty's round eyes of amazement, as she sat
opposite, served to irritate her more. At length she gave a little
start and scream.
'I am sure there is a dog in the room!' she exclaimed. 'How often I
have told you, Jennings' (this to the butler), 'to keep the dogs out of
our rooms!'
'It's my dog,' said Betty at once; 'it's only Prince; he always sits
under my chair; he's such a dear, he waits as quiet as a mouse.'
'Take him out of the room at once, Jennings; I can't eat another
mouthful while he is here. You ought never to have allowed him to come
in!'
'Oh, Grace, he won't hurt you!' said Nesta, remonstrating.
Miss Fairfax put her knife and fork together, and leant back in her
chair.
'Very well; as my nerves are never considered in the least, it is
useless for me to speak; I had better go back to my room. I am
continually being urged to join you at meal-times; yet, when I do, I am
expected to go through the misery of having a wretched dog crawling
round my feet, and setting every nerve in my head quivering and
throbbing.'
'Take the dog outside,' said Mrs. Fairfax quietly; then, turning to
Betty, who looked very perturbed and flushed, she said, 'Jennings will
take care of him, and he shall have some dinner in the kitchen.'
'He won't be beaten, will he? He didn't know it was wrong to follow
me'; and Betty's eyes began to fill with tears, as she saw Prince
seized by the scruff of his neck, and carried off, in spite of
indignant growls and snaps.
'No, he won't be beaten,' she was assured; but after this she had no
appetite for her dinner; and when the ladies rose from the table she
ran up to Mrs. Fairfax.
'May I have Prince again now? He's so very good. I want him
dreadfully.'
'Yes, he shall be brought to you. What are you going to do with the
child, Nesta?'
'I will take her out into the garden, mother. But I hear old Mrs. Parr
has come up for some linseed meal I promised her. Her husband is very
ill again with bronchitis. I shall not be gone long.'
'Then Betty shall come upstairs with me.'
Again Nesta wondered, but wisely said nothing.
Prince came scampering across the hall, and Betty, now completely
happy, took hold of Mrs. Fairfax's hand, and went upstairs into a
lovely little boudoir, where she sat down in a low cushioned seat by
the window, and chattered away to her heart's content.
'Did you send Prince to me? You did, didn't you? I knew it was you!
He is such a darling, and it makes me into a couple--which I've never
been before.'
Mrs. Fairfax smiled; she seemed to lose some of her stiffness when with
Betty alone.
'And is he as much a companion as another brother or sister might be?'
'I think he's much nicer. I wouldn't have any one instead of him for
all the world.'
'What have you been doing with yourself since I saw you?'
'Lots and lots of things. I go to church to hear Miss Fairfax play the
organ; and I take flowers to dead Violet; and I have got into lots of
scrapes; but I don't think I'm quite as naughty here as I used to be in
London. At least, we can't quite make it out. Douglas was saying the
other day, nurse lets him climb any trees here; but if he tried to
climb a lamp-post, or even one of the trees in the parks, in London, he
was always being whipped or put into cells for it! And in the country
we can go out without gloves, and run races along the roads, and swing
on gates, and we never get punished at all. We don't want to go back
to London; it's so dreadfully hard to be good there.'
'But don't you want to see your father and mother again?'
'Yes, I s'pose so; but we don't see them very much in London. I'd like
to stay in the country for ever and ever, and so would Prince.' After
a pause she went on, 'You see, there's a good deal more going on in the
country than in London. We know a lot more people, and there's always
something fresh happening. Now, in London every day is the same, and
we have only the nursery to play in, we get so tired of it. At the
farm where we live we're always having nice surprises; lots of little
calves are born quite suddenly, or little horses, and we don't know
anything about it till we go and see them in the morning. Yesterday
there were six little black pigs, such little beauties! And then we
have so many more people to talk to. There's Farmer and Mrs. Giles,
and Sam, and all the carters, and the old man who digs the graves, and
old Jenny, and you, and Miss Fairfax, and Mr. Russell, but I've only
seen him once.'
Betty paused for breath.
'And what do you find to talk about to so many people?'
'I've been talking rather grave talks with some of them,' Betty said
reflectively, 'about tribulation.'
Mrs. Fairfax raised her eyebrows.
'That is very grave talk indeed for such a mite as you. What do you
know about it?'
'I know that everybody has got it except me, and I want to have it; and
old Jenny said I'd be sure to come to it soon. She's had it, and
Reuben has, and Mr. Russell, and nurse, and Miss Fairfax has. Has the
cross lady downstairs had it, and have you?'
Mrs. Fairfax's lips quivered a little as she turned away her head. The
soft, childish fingers were probing the wound, and she shrank from
their touch.
Betty went on dreamily, 'I often wonder what it's like, and whether you
feel like Christian did in the dark valley; but he got through it all
right at last! I should like to come right through it into the middle
of the text, and Jenny says I shall some day!'
There was glad triumph in her tone.
'What text?' asked Mrs. Fairfax, looking out of the window, and away to
the green woods in the distance.
Betty repeated once more the familiar words,--
'"These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed
their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." How glad
they must be to have had it! don't you think so?'
And then the stately Mrs. Fairfax sat down, and took Betty upon her
knee; drawing her close to her, till she had the little dark curly head
resting against her shoulder, she bent her head to hers, and said,
almost passionately,--
'God grant you will never know such trouble as mine, little
one--trouble that turns your heart to stone, and blots all heaven from
your sight!'
Betty put her little arms round her neck.
'Old Jenny said I should have it,' she repeated, 'and she told me when
I was in the middle of it to remember, "Be thou faithful unto death"--I
forget the other part.'
There was silence for some moments; then Mrs. Fairfax kissed the
upturned face.
'Now run downstairs, little woman, and find Nesta. I will say good-bye
now, for I shall not see you again.'
Betty obeyed instantly, and when she had gone, for the first time for
many a long month, the sorrowful woman knelt in prayer. 'God help me!'
she cried; 'I have been an unfaithful servant, and have refused to turn
to Thee for comfort.'
The rest of the afternoon was as delightful as the morning to Betty.
She visited the stables and poultry yard; she picked strawberries, and
ate them whilst she picked; she gathered a large nosegay of flowers to
take home to nurse; and then, at four o'clock, she came in to a
delicious little tea in the cool, shady drawing-room. Miss Fairfax was
lying on the sofa there, but she seemed to like to hear the child talk,
and even condescended to allow Prince to come inside to receive a lump
of sugar on his nose, whilst he sat up and begged.
'I've had a lovely day,' said Betty, as Nesta was putting on her hat
upstairs in the bedroom.
'And so have I,' responded Nesta, laughing. 'You have been very good
company, Betty; I shall be quite dull when you are gone.'
'Have you no one to talk to, when I'm not here? Are you an odd one?'
'Perhaps I may be.'
Why don't you make yourself into a couple with some
one, like Prince and me?'
But this made Nesta's soft eyes fill with tears; and Betty felt very
uncomfortable until she was kissed and told she was the funniest little
chatterbox living. The pony carriage came round; and a little later
she was being driven home, rather tired, and very happy, at her day's
outing.
Nesta left her at the gate, and drove silently home. Betty had brought
a good deal of brightness into her life; and though she was always
outwardly so cheery in her manner, her heart was often heavy and sore.
It was not a cheerful house; and as an hour later she tried to enliven
the solemn dinner-table, expecting as usual to meet with no response,
but grumbles from Grace and chilling indifference on the part of her
mother, she was surprised by Mrs. Fairfax's efforts to take part in the
conversation.
'That child is an original character,' she observed. 'Do you know who
they are, Nesta?'
'Yes, Mr. Crump was telling me the other day; their father is the
Member for Stonycroft, and their mother that Mrs. Stuart who is so busy
in philanthropical objects in town. She was one of the Miss Champneys,
the clever Miss Champneys, as we used to call them. I think the
children must inherit the talents of their parents, for though they are
regular little pickles for mischief, they are all original in their
way. Betty thinks the most, I should say, the others seem to live in
dreamland half their time. I came across the other girl and boy in an
old willow tree the other day. I spoke to them, but was hushed up at
once by the boy, who put his fair curly head out of the branches, and
said, "You're not to speak to us just now; we're hiding from the Queen
of the Brook! she comes dashing down in foam, she's so angry with us;
and if she splashes us we shall be turned into black dogs, and have to
go on all fours till dinner time!" I laughed and left them. I don't
altogether envy their nurse!'
'Betty is not enough of a child,' Mrs. Fairfax said; 'some of her
sayings are quite uncanny.'
'Do you think so? She has plenty of life and spirits. But she is a
child of intense feeling. I am afraid she will suffer for it as she
grows older. Yesterday I came upon her outside the churchyard crying,
as if her heart would break, over a dead frog. I tried to comfort her.
"Oh," she sobbed; "I'm so afraid Prince has killed it. I didn't see
him, but he may have; and he doesn't look a bit sorry. What shall I do
if he grows up a murderer!"'
Mrs. Fairfax would have thought Betty a stranger child still, if she
could have seen her that evening tossing in her little bed.
Molly was fast asleep; nurse had left the room, and all was quiet; but
Betty was going over in her busy little mind the events of the past
day. At last she stretched out her hand to Prince in his basket.
'She said you had no soul, Prince; I wonder if you haven't! I wish
you'd say prayers to God; I'm sure God will give you a soul, if you
ought to have one! Prince, wake up!'
Prince rolled over, shook himself, and jumped up on the bed, wondering
what was the reason of this summons.
Betty sat up with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. 'Come here. Prince!
Now beg! that's right. Now say a prayer; just a very little one. I
pray for you, darling, every night; but you're big enough to pray
yourself. God will know your language if you speak to Him, and you can
just speak secret to Him--I do often. Now, Prince--no--don't lick my
hand, and keep your tail still. I wish you'd shut your eyes. I'll put
my hand over them--there! Now Prince, ask God to give you a soul, and
forgive your sins, and take you to heaven when you die.'
Betty bent her head in silence; whilst for two minutes Prince kept
perfectly still; then she took her little hands from his eyes, and he
gave a quick short bark of delight, perhaps in anticipation of a lump
of sugar for this new trick taught him. If so, he was disappointed, he
was only kissed and put back into his basket. And Betty laid her
little head on the pillow, but only half satisfied. 'O God,' she
murmured sleepily, 'if Prince hasn't prayed properly, please forgive
him, and give him a soul and make him a good dog, for Jesus Christ's
sake. Amen.'