A NEW HOME.
IT was a solemn and almost speechless procession that marched through
the midnight woods, waking up the sleeping birds in their nests, and
frightening timid rabbits in their burrows. The moon shone down from
the cloudless sky, filling the open spaces with a white light, but
deepening the shadows where the hazel bushes grew thickest.
Elsie walked beside Ishmael with her hand in his; remembering, oh! how
keenly, that day five years ago, which had laid the foundation-stone
of all his sorrow. But beyond the present sadness there shone a bright
hope in the future, though he could not at this moment catch its light.
Only a few days, and she and her mother were going to sail for America;
and now, when Ishmael had seen his mother's feeble worn-out body laid
in the old churchyard, he would be free to go with them, and begin his
new life in a new country.
They found old Humphrey lying in a drunken sleep on the damp floor
of the hut, at the foot of the ladder, which he had not been able to
climb up; and they had to drag him on one side to carry their burden
to its resting-place in the loft overhead. He was an old man, with his
brain softened and soddened with drink, and he could not be made to
understand what had happened, or be persuaded to let Ishmael remain
even for a few hours in his old home.
It was only now and then, when his father was away during the few days
that intervened before the funeral, that he could steal in to look at
his mother's calm and placid face, from which the wrinkles, graved
sharply on it by many troubles, seemed almost smoothed away. But every
house in the parish was open to him, the castaway who had been driven
from his home, and thrown upon the world.
He followed his mother to the grave, and stood for the last time amid
his father and brothers. There was a whole crowd of villagers and
neighbours gathered about the grave; and Nutkin was there with the
little boy whom Ishmael had sought and found in the windings of the old
quarry.
"I'd like to shake hands with all the Medways," said Nutkin, as the
crowd began to melt away, "and let bygones be bygones. And, Ishmael,
the squire bid me say, is there nothing as he can do for you; nothing
as 'ud make it worth your while to stay at home, 'stead o' going to
America?"
"Nothin'," answered Ishmael; "there's no home for me now mother's gone.
It was home, sweet home, and I shall never have another."
But ten years after, when Ishmael came back to England, not to stay,
but only to visit the old place, he had made a home for himself,
with Elsie in it for his wife. He owned a farm of his own, and was
prospering in every way. He found the old hut fallen into ruins,
for his father had died in the workhouse the year after he had left
England: and no one had lived in the desolate hovel since.
The old door-sill was there yet, though the thatched roof had long ago
mouldered away; and he could almost fancy he saw his mother sitting
there, and looking out for him.
The trees behind the ruins tossed their green branches in the wind, and
the blue sky, flecked with clouds, shone above them, as in the bygone
days. There were the old pleasant sounds, the song of the birds, and
the hum of insects, and the rustling of myriads of leaves; but still
it was no more home. His mother, who had made this poor hut a home for
him, was no longer there.
"I remember," said Elsie, softly, with her hand in his, "how she said,
'I shall watch for thee on the door-sill, to come into the Father's
house, boldly, where He's gone to prepare a place; and you and me 'll
be at home again, with Him.'"
THE END.
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Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.