To pay frequent visits to the village had of late been a great interest
to the young people; they had become acquainted with many of the
cottagers, and Leila had already begun to have a lively interest in
their children. As the party were now to leave Woodlands in a few days,
she proposed one morning that, as the weather was uncommonly fine, they
should cross the fields, under Charles’s escort, and pay a sort of
farewell visit to some of the cottagers. The cold had been so severe in
the night, that the grass still felt crisp under their feet, though the
sunbeams glanced brightly on the scarlet berries of the holly, and on
the slender branches of the forest trees, feathered white by the
hoar-frost. At the village they were welcomed by old and young, for the
kind, frank manners of the young people had made them general
favourites; many of the children ran forward to meet them, but they
missed one little girl whom they had in former visits particularly
distinguished. Her mother’s cottage stood at the end of the village,
and they found Dame Burton standing at her door, looking anxiously in
the direction of the road. She invited them as usual to enter, but
added, “I am rather out of sorts, young ladies, at this moment, for I am
fearing my little Lizzy is getting into idle ways. Not a sight can I see
of her, all the other children in the village home from the school, and
she still loitering on the road. If I had not had the dinner to get
ready, I would have been off to seek her myself, and would have sent her
home in a hurry; but her father will be in to his dinner, and she will
get it from him I am thinking.”
Leila instantly proposed that they should return by the road; “As
Charles is with us, I don’t think papa will be displeased,” she said,
“and we can tell him why.” Then turning to Dame Burton, she added, “We
shall be sure of meeting your little Lizzy if we go by the road, and we
shall send her home to you very quick; but I hope you won’t be angry
with her this time, for you know when it is an interesting play
sometimes one forgets. I forget very often myself, though I am so much
older than Lizzy.”
The young people proceeded on their way, talking and laughing merrily;
Charles protesting “that if they met the little truant, the unworthy
little Lizzy, he would send her home in a hurry; he would give it her,
her father’s anger would be a joke to his.”
Leila looked up in his face in astonishment.
“Never mind him,” Mina exclaimed, observing Leila’s face of perplexity;
“never mind him--don’t believe a word of it, he’s only saying it in fun;
Charles is not the least bit ill-natured. If we meet Lizzy I know the
sort of thing he will do, he will tap her kindly on the back, and say,
‘Now there’s a good girl, run home as quick as you can.’ That’s the sort
of way he will scold.”
“Is it, my little wise sister?” Charles replied, laughing. “Well, well,
you will soon see the contrary; you don’t know what an angry man I can
be; Leila has never yet seen me in one of my right towering passions, it
will frighten her out of her wits.”
“How merry we all are,” Mina said, “and how happy we have all been, and
now in three more days it will all be over!”
“Oh, Mina!” Louisa exclaimed, “do not speak of it; I have been thinking
of it all the time, though I have been trying to laugh. I have never
been so happy before, and now I may never see you all again. You will
all be meeting often, but I shall be far away. You know in two months
we are going abroad. I used to like the thoughts of it so much; now I
cannot bear it. And you, Leila, you will be growing up, and so many to
love you, you will forget me.”
“Never, Louisa, never; you were my first friend, you will always----”
She was interrupted at this moment by the loud screams of a child; they
seemed to proceed from a lane, which, a few yards further on, branched
off from the road. The screams were continued with increased violence.
They caught sight of a little girl struggling to get free from a large
dog, which seemed dragging her along by her clothes.
Leila sprang forward. “Don’t be frightened, Lizzy, don’t; we shall
protect you.”
At the sound of her voice the dog let go its hold with a joyful bark of
recognition, and the next moment was leaping upon Leila with frantic
joy.
“Dash, my own Dash!” she cried, as throwing her arms round his neck, she
almost stifled the faithful animal with her caresses. “But how is this?
Is it my Dash? is it really true? how did it happen? Lizzy, what is the
meaning of this? how did he come here? where did you find him? Oh! tell
me; but how thin you are, my Dash; how changed--oh, he has been
starved! how dreadful! But, Lizzy, run home to your mother; don’t delay
a moment longer--she is sorry you have been so long away; and let us get
home also as quick as we can, that we may get food for my dear Dash.
What joyful news for papa, and for Nurse, and Amy. Poor Peggy! Oh, if
Dash could speak!” She turned to regain the road, but Dash would not
allow this; he began to pull Leila up the lane by her clothes, in the
same way he had been doing to the little girl.
“Don’t oppose him,” Charles said; “there is something under all this, we
had better follow as he leads.” They quickened their pace, but saw
nothing. Dash now frequently ran on a little way before them, returned
again and took hold of Leila’s dress as before, looking up in her face,
as if encouraging her to go on. A sudden thought seized her; she darted
forwards--she ran on a considerable way--suddenly she saw a figure lying
stretched on a bank by the side of the lane; in the next moment she was
kneeling by Peggy Dobie’s side!
The others came up. They found Leila clasping Peggy’s hands and sobbing
violently.
“Her eyes are shut,” she said; “she does not hear me; oh, Charles, tell
me, is she dead? Can we do nothing?”
Dash began at this moment to lick Peggy’s face, she opened her eyes.
“Am I dreaming,” she said, in a low faint voice, “and am I still in the
land of the living? surely it is the faces of my own dear bairns that I
see; but it canna be. Na, na, it is a vision o’ the night, and it will
leave me with the light o’ morning as it has ever done afore; but it’s
morning now. Where am I? how has all this come about? oh! for a drop o’
water and a morsel o’----” Her eyes closed again--the momentary exertion
was too much.
Charles, who had been rubbing her cold hands, sprang to his feet. “It is
food she requires,” he said; “she is starving. I see a house near, I
will be back in a moment.”
He flew off. He returned, followed by the farmer to whom the house
belonged. Charles held a bowl of milk to Peggy’s lips--she seemed unable
to swallow.
“No, no, mister, that won’t do; this is a bad job; there has been both
cold and hunger here; it’s brandy she must have, and that instantly.
Heaven grant it may not be too late; I have my doubts.”
“No,” Leila cried, “don’t say it; we have found her again--she must not
die!”
But the farmer was gone. He returned again in a few minutes with the
brandy and a thick blanket. With Charles’s assistance he poured a little
brandy and water down Peggy’s throat, and wrapped her in the warm
blanket. “These poor thin rags,” he said, “are not for such cold as
this, the poor creature is half frozen; but she is coming about again,
her lips are not just so white; she will do yet; and, by good luck, I
see one of my carts coming from the field; we shall have her into it and
home in a jiffy. Hollo, there! Joe, my man, here’s a bye-job for you.”
Peggy was lifted into the cart, Selina and Leila also getting in and
supporting her in their arms. It was in vain Charles insisted on taking
this office on himself, they would not hear of it; it seemed as if it
were quite necessary for them to hold Peggy fast, as well as see her, to
convince them that the scene before them was not a joyful dream. But
Dash also appeared resolved to make one of the party in the cart--he
leaped in, stretched himself on Peggy’s feet, and to move him was
impossible.
“Let him lie there, he will do much good,” the farmer said; “he is a
wise animal, and I am thinking it is to his good offices that there is
the breath of life in this poor creature. Where is she bound for, young
ladies?”
“To Woodlands,” Leila answered.
The cart proceeded, followed by the others; when they arrived at the
lodge, Bill’s astonishment was great, and his joy also, when he heard
the wonderful news, for he had taken the greatest interest in Leila’s
distress; he called instantly to Susan to accompany them, and taking the
key, which was still in his charge, they took their way to Peggy’s
cottage, Charles having been sent on to the house to request the
attendance of Nurse. “Her papa,” Leila said, “had gone to London with
her Aunt Stanley; but Nurse, she was sure, would be of great use, and
might bring with her whatever she thought necessary for Peggy,” who
still remained in a state of stupor.
The fire was kindled, and Peggy laid upon her bed when Nurse arrived,
who, after giving her a small portion of nourishment, stood by the
bed-side holding her hand and gazing anxiously upon her.
“How wonderful are the ways of Providence,” she said. “To think of Peggy
being restored to us again, she that we mourned as sleeping under the
salt wave!”
Peggy opened her eyes. “And wherefore did ye pit me there?” she said,
with a faint smile. “Na, na, it was nae just sae bad as that, though
it’s been out o’ perils by sea and perils by land that the Lord has
delivered me, praise be to His holy name; but, oh! it’s a deliverance
past my weak comprehension, I canna make it out; but it’s all His
blessed work, and it’s a reality--it’s no’ a dream.”
“No, Peggy, it’s not a dream,” Matilda said, eagerly. “See, we are all
around you, and now Cousin Leila will be happy again, and merry as she
was before.”
“And did the dear bairn grieve sae for me? Oh! what it is to hear the
voices of ye all again, and to see your faces glinting down on me like
the blessed sunbeams on my withered heart; it was for this I prayed and
for this I toiled, as my puir blistered feet can testify; but it is a
strength that I have nought to do with that has brought me to see this
day; and now that the life seems in me again, in a measure, I would fain
ken where I am. Is it your house, Mistress Nurse, that they have brought
me to, and I making sae free, lying in your ain bed, wi’ thae bonnie
genty white curtains, and all sae clean and comfortable about me, and
never sae much as a word o’ thanks? you will think I hae left my manners
in the sea--but we will no speak o’ that awfu’ element.”
“But, Peggy,” Selina whispered, “it’s not Nurse’s house--it is your own;
and Cousin Leila told her papa every thing she thought you would like.”
“Yes,” Matilda added, “and there are peats in a box behind the door;
and you have not seen the kitchen yet, with the walnut-tree table, and
cupboard, and the cuckoo clock--all is for you--it is your own house.”
“My own house,” Peggy repeated, as clasping her hands together in deep
emotion, she added, “O what am I, that such blessings should be showered
upon me, when He whom I serve ‘had not where to lay His head!’ O my
bairns! help me to praise Him, who has brought me out o’ much
tribulation, for my mind’s weak and head sair confused. Could you no’
tak’ the book--it’s the Psalms o’ David that could speak weel for me at
sic a moment.”
“No, Peggy,” Nurse said; “that must not be: God looks to the heart. He
knows all your gratitude to Him--but you are more exhausted than I ever
saw mortal being, and it’s peace and quietness you want; you must try to
sleep, and the young ladies will be gude bairns, (as you call them,) and
go quietly home--they will come to see you again to-morrow, when you
will be more able to speak to them of your mercies, for, surely, it has
been a great deliverance.”
“And may I not stay with Peggy?” Leila said.
“No, Miss Leila, no; Peggy will be better alone with me; and as she will
require a little nourishment now and then, and it will need my
experience to know how much, I will watch by her till the evening; I am
sure my master will spare me on such an occasion; and you may say, that
if it is his pleasure to allow Amy to step down when I leave, and stay
this first night with Peggy, I think it is all she will require.”
On the young people getting up to take leave, a painful struggle took
place in Dash’s upright mind, and for some moments he stood irresolute.
Between the dear young companion of his palmy days and the friend of
late misfortunes the line of duty was difficult to discern;--but this
friend was no longer perishing with hunger and cold, she was now in the
land of plenty and almost smothered with blankets; so Dash wagged his
tail to Peggy and darted after Leila. It was not easy to say which was
most light of foot, as they bounded along--Dash capering and frisking in
renewed health and spirits, and Leila as if she trod on air, so
impatient was she to tell all to her papa; but Mr. Howard was already in
possession of the joyful intelligence, as immediately on his return from
London, he had been informed by Charles of all that had taken place, and
of Nurse having been sent for, and they now met both on their way to
Peggy’s cottage; but on hearing Leila’s account, Mr. Howard thought it
better to delay his visit till the next morning, and retraced his steps
with the rest of the party.
As they entered the house, Leila lingered behind for a moment.
“Charles,” she whispered, in an agitated voice, “if you had not told us
to follow Dash, Peggy would have died. Charles, if you had been a little
boy, you would not have said that.” The bright colour which before had
animated her face had faded, she was pale and trembling; Charles was
alarmed.
“You are ill, Leila!” he exclaimed; “the agitation of all this has been
too much for you.”
“No, I am not ill,” she said quickly; “but I must go to papa.” She
passed him hastily, and entered the library. Mr. Howard looked up--her
appearance alarmed him.
“Has any thing happened?” he inquired; “Leila, my child, why are you so
pale?”
Leila threw herself into her papa’s arms. “Nothing more has happened,
papa; but I don’t know what is the matter with me; it is joy--but it is
too much happiness--how can I ever thank God enough for all that He has
done for me!--He has given me so many blessings. He sent me the trial,
but He has taken it away from me again, and gives me more than ever
joy--tenfold joy, papa--what can I say to Him--what can I do?--surely, I
am most ungrateful--my heart is very full, but I feel as if I could do
nothing.”
“You can give your heart more entirely, my love, to Him, who has given
so much for you; you can think of Him, love Him, walk with Him, and make
Him more and more to you an all-sufficient Saviour.”
“But, papa, what frightens me is this; I have more blessings here than I
had in the island--friends, and beautiful rooms, and fortune, and every
thing I could wish for--but it does not make me give my heart more to
God. I used to think of God more in the island, when I saw His beautiful
world all around me; here it is beautiful also, but so many pleasures,
and so many people to love, take up my heart; perhaps it would be better
for me if I had trials.”
“My dear Leila, you must beware of the error of believing, that were
your situation different, you would be better than you are now; the
fault is in yourself, not in the circumstances which surround you. You
think it would be better for you if you had trials; you have a trial at
this very moment--the trial of prosperity, and it has often been found
more difficult to bear than the heaviest misfortunes. Remember the words
of your blessed Saviour, that ‘it is easier for a camel to go through
the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.’
The possession of riches often tends to increase pride and
self-indulgence; they expose you to flattery and to many temptations to
pleasure, which make the self-denying principles of Christ more
difficult to follow; it is not money alone, that is here meant, but all
the sinful vanities of a worldly life.”
“Well, papa, and is not this just what frightens me? Would it not be
better for me to have no money, and to live in some quiet place like the
island, where we should have nothing to tempt us off?”
“No, my dear child, had it been so, we should have been continued there;
but the Bible does not tell us to renounce the world, but to overcome
the world. We are to live in it, but not to be led by it. If we have the
advantages of fortune and station in life, we have also greater
responsibilities--we are responsible for the example we set to those who
look up to us, and for the use we make of those riches which are
intrusted to us, and for which, as faithful servants, we must one day
give an account.”
“Then, papa, this is what you mean when you say, this world is a state
of trial; for it is not only a trial when we are poor and miserable, but
when we are rich and happy--I never thought of that before, but then we
can never be at peace, papa, nor enjoy being happy.”
“Yes, my child, we can be so, by endeavouring to bring eternity more
constantly before us, and by giving to things present only their proper
value: this will not prevent our enjoying them where consistent with
duty, but will prevent our feeling as if all were lost when they are
taken away; for God has promised to ‘keep him in perfect peace, whose
mind is stayed on Him.’ If we could only keep constantly in mind, that
every event, whether happy or mournful, if properly received, will work
together for our everlasting good, we should indeed enjoy ‘that peace
which passeth all understanding.’ Go then, my dear child, and enjoy the
many blessings which surround you, with a grateful heart.”
“Yes, papa, I will go to Charles, and tell him you have made me well
again: he thinks I am ill, which will make him sorry, for you don’t know
what a kind brother he is to me, and I like him so very much; he is one
of my blessings, and I think he will work for good, for he always tells
me what is right--good-bye, papa.”