THE PRINCE TO THE RESCUE.
Hannah was doing well in her little shop at Teckford. She had always
been a most saving body, and although Mrs. Mainwaring had never been
able to pay her high wages, she had managed to put the greater portion
of what she received away. Hannah was one of those fortunate
individuals on whom even a shabby dress will look neat. Her boots
lasted twice as long as any one else's, her caps retained their starch
and their whiteness long after another servant's would have had to be
resigned to a fresh cleaning process. Hannah therefore required little
or no money to spend on dress, and in consequence, when the Mainwaring
girls went away, she had a little nest-egg laid by to stock a shop.
She found a suitable little house at Teckford, laid in her little
store of provisions with care, for she argued wisely that however poor
people were they required food, and was living very comfortably on the
proceeds of her sales. Hannah, as a rule, had a smooth and unruffled
brow; she was a careful woman, but not a troubled one. At the present
moment, however it could scarcely be said of this good soul that she
was without cares. The neighbors who came in to buy their bacon, and
fresh eggs, and candles, and tea, remarked that Hannah had no longer a
cheery word and a pleasant smile to give them, and the children, when
they tumbled out their halfpennies and asked for "a little piece of
taffy, please, ma'am," noticed that Hannah's eyes had red rims round
them, and they wondered if she was naughty, and that was why she
cried.
Yes, poor Hannah had a troubled heart during those early summer days,
for Daisy lay so weak and languid, and indifferent to all external
things, on her tiny little bed, never giving Hannah any information as
to why she had wandered alone to Rosebury, never saying anything about
the weight of sorrow which rested on her little heart, only now and
then moaning out that she must get up and go to Mrs. Ellsworthy, and
now and then feebly saying that she wished so very much that the
Prince was there.
Hannah knew all about Mrs. Ellsworthy, and how she had taken the girls
up, and tried to help them, after their mother's death; but who was
the Prince?
Finding that the child continued slightly feverish, and most
unnaturally weak--finding that the dainties she prepared were only
just tasted by the little sufferer--Hannah looked well into her little
store of hardly-earned money, and finding that she had sufficient to
pay him, called in the village doctor.
Of course, with his limited experience, this good man could little
understand Daisy's case. He ordered medicine for her, and plenty of
cooling drinks, and said that he could not find anything very much the
matter, only she was most unnaturally weak.
"It's my thinking, sir," said Hannah, "that this is the kind of
weakness that ends in death. My little lady is all on the pine for
something or some one, and unless she gets what she wants soon she
will die."
Hannah's view of the case was rather puzzling to the doctor, who
stared at her, and considered her from that day forward a very
fanciful woman. He repeated his injunctions to give Daisy plenty of
milk, and to see that she took her tonic three times a day; and then
he took his leave.
When he was gone Hannah went to her next-door neighbor and asked her
if she would be so very kind as to go and sit in the child's room for
a couple of hours. Then she put on her bonnet and neat black cloak,
and started off on foot to Rosebury. She had made up her mind to get
Mrs. Ellsworthy's address from some one, and to write to her about
Daisy. In due time she arrived at the lodge, saw the woman who kept
the gates, obtained from her without much difficulty Mrs. Ellsworthy's
address, and then prepared to return home. Just as she reached the
stile, however, which led into the field where she had found Daisy, a
thought struck her--she had no writing-paper in the house, and what
could be bought at Teckford was almost too bad to use. Hannah made up
her mind to go to Rosebury, which was a much more important village
than Teckford, and get a few sheets of note-paper, and an envelope or
two. She walked very fast, for she did not like to leave Daisy so long
by herself, and, panting and hurried, she at last arrived at the
little stationer's shop. The stationer's wife knew Hannah, and greeted
her with effusion.
"I'm truly pleased to see you, Mrs. Martin," she said. "Why you're
quite a stranger in these parts, and I did not expect to see you round
now, with one of your young ladies returned and all."
Hannah heaved a profound sigh.
"She's very, very ill, poor darling," she said. "Very dangerously weak
and ill; and I must trouble you to hasten with the paper, Mrs. Jones.
One penn'orth of your most shining note, and two envelopes to match.
Mind you, give me a paper with a good gloss on it, Mrs. Jones."
Mrs. Jones stared at Hannah Martin; but fetching down a box of
note-paper, prepared to wrap some sheets in tissue paper.
"I shouldn't say Miss Primrose was ill," she remarked as she did so,
"though she do seem worried, dear young lady."
When the shop-woman made this observation Hannah's pence tumbled down
on the counter with a crash.
"Goodness gracious me, ma'am!" she exclaimed, "you don't mean to tell
me that Miss Primrose Mainwaring is at Rosebury?"
"Why, of course, ma'am; why, don't you know? why you said but now how
weak and ill she was."
"Never mind the paper," answered Hannah, "and never mind a word I said
about anybody; just have the goodness to tell me where I'll find Miss
Primrose."
"She was staying with Miss Martineau but yesterday and there's a
gentleman come down, too--a very 'ansome, harristocratic-looking young
man, I call him, and for all the world as like our pretty Miss Jasmine
as if he was own brother to her--and they two and Miss Martineau are
fairly scouring the place for that poor little tot Miss Daisy, who it
seems 'as run away from home. Why, Hannah--Hannah Martin, woman! are
you daft?"
For Hannah had rushed from the shop while Mrs. Jones was speaking,
leaving her neglected paper and two or three pence behind her on the
counter. A few moments later the good soul was knocking at Miss
Martineau's door, and very soon Primrose and Arthur Noel too were in
possession of all the facts that Hannah could give them.
"Oh, Hannah! it is so good to think you were the one to save her and
find her," said Primrose, as she kissed her old nurse, and shed some
thankful tears.
"You had better come back with me now, Miss Primrose," said Hannah,
"and perhaps the gentleman or Miss Martineau will send a telegraphic
message to poor Miss Jasmine."
But Primrose's difficulties had not come to an end. She instantly
started to walk across the fields with Hannah; but when Daisy heard
she had come she absolutely refused to see her, and cried so
piteously, and got into such an excited state, that Primrose felt
herself obliged to yield to the child's caprice, and to keep out of
the room.
"I can't see her, Hannah," poor little Daisy said. "Of all people in
all the world, I can't see my own Primrose. Oh, if only I were well
enough to go to Mrs. Ellsworthy, or if only the Prince would come!"
Primrose heard Daisy's weak little voice through the thin walls of
Hannah's cottage.
"Hannah," she said, "I know who Daisy means by the Prince. The Prince
is that kind Mr. Noel, who has been helping me to find the little
darling. If he has not gone back to London, for he said he would go
back at once after he knew we had found Daisy, he could come to her.
Oh, Hannah," continued poor Primrose, "I cannot think what has
happened to your dear baby, Daisy. I begin to believe what Mr. Noel
has been hinting to me--that some one has got a secret influence over
her."
"We had better see and find this Mr. Noel at once, miss, now," said
practical Hannah. "We can think of secret influences and all that sort
of thing when we have found the gentleman whom the dear child is
pining to see. If Mr. Noel is still at Rosebury you had better put on
your hat, Miss Primrose, and walk across the fields to the village,
and bring him back with you. I'll stay with Miss Daisy and soothe her
the best way I can. She's dreadful agitated and very weak and
trembling ever since you came in, miss."
Primrose said she would go back to Rosebury directly, and she was so
fortunate as to meet Noel as he was starting for London.
"You must come with me," she said earnestly. "I fear our dear little
Daisy is even worse than Hannah represented her to be. She has
absolutely refused to see me, and talks only about you and Mrs.
Ellsworthy. I don't know what she can want with either of you, but it
is quite evident that she thinks you can help her and save her from
some great trouble. Poppy said she wanted Mrs. Ellsworthy to give her
money; I suppose to replace what she lost of mine. Well, Mrs.
Ellsworthy is not here; so can you come to see her to-night?"
"I will come at once, Miss Mainwaring," answered Noel. "If we walk
down this street we shall pass the post-office, and I can send a
telegram to Mrs. Ellsworthy and also to my servant, Lawson. I must try
and get into town some time to-morrow, however, for I have got to
attend the trial of no less a person than your old landlord, Dove. He
was apprehended for stealing a bank-note and a ring from my
mantle-piece."
"I never liked that man," said Primrose; "indeed, I never thought
either of the Doves quite honest. Mrs. Dove made a rule of keeping
back a little of the money she borrowed from me on all occasions."
Then Primrose and Noel walked as quickly as they could down the
village street. Noel despatched his necessary telegram, and in a short
time they both found themselves in Hannah's humble cottage.
"She is asleep," said Hannah, as she came out to meet them. "She is
moaning in her sleep, and she gives sighs enough to break your heart.
You had better, both of you, stay in my little sitting-room until she
awakes."
"If you will allow me," said Noel, "I will go and sit beside her bed;
she is accustomed to me. I will promise to be very careful in my
dealings with her. I believe I can talk to her without startling her
in the least."
Hannah looked dubious, but Primrose interposed in her gentle voice--
"Yes, Hannah, Mr. Noel will not startle Daisy; he has always had a
most happy influence over her."
Poor little Daisy! the sight of her wan face, the anxious expression
which seemed indelibly stamped on her childish brow, gave Noel so
strong a sense of pain and indignation that he sincerely longed to
secure for Dove as severe a punishment as the law would give. He sat
down gently by the humble little bed, and when the child moaned and
tossed in her sleep he laid his cool hand on her forehead. That hand
had a magnetic effect--even in her sleep Daisy seemed to know it. She
murmured, "The Prince, has he come?" and a moment after she opened her
dark blue eyes and fixed them on Noel, while a very faint smile
flitted across her little face.
"You have come at last, Mr. Prince. I am very, very glad; I have
wanted you," she said.
"I have wanted you, Daisy; I have been looking for you everywhere. I
have been in great trouble about you," answered Noel, in his gentlest
tones.
"Have you?" said little Daisy; "I am sorry you have been in trouble.
Do you know that Primrose came to-day and I could not see her? I can
see you, but not Primrose. Please let me hold your hand. I don't feel
so dreadfully weak when I hold your hand. Will you stoop down, and let
me talk to you. I can't talk at all loud, for I'm dreadfully weak. Do
you know, Mr. Prince, that I'm going to die?"
"No, Daisy, I don't think you are," answered Noel. I am the Prince who
delivers little girls from ogres. I never heard of a little girl dying
after she was delivered from the ogre."
"Wicked little girls are not delivered," answered Daisy. "I was so
dreadfully cowardly. I was afraid of a dark dungeon, and so--and
so--but I mustn't tell you. I did lose Primrose's money, and I was a
coward, but I haven't been so bad yet as to tell a lie. You mustn't
ask me to tell you what it all means, Mr. Prince, for I can't. I hope
very much you'll forgive me for being a cowardly little girl; God has,
long ago, for I asked Him, and I am not really afraid to die. I
shouldn't feel a bit afraid or unhappy about it if I thought Primrose
and Jasmine could have their money."
Here Daisy's voice quite failed her, and she looked so dreadfully
white and weak that Noel began to fear there was some truth in her
poor little words. He saw that their interview must not be prolonged,
and that he must give the child relief as soon as possible.
"Daisy, you have got to listen to me," he said. "You need say very
little yourself, but you can listen to my words. I know why you want
to see Mrs. Ellsworthy--yes, dear, you can hold my hand as tightly as
possible. No, don't tremble; you want Mrs. Ellsworthy to give you some
money. She is not here; I know she would help you, and feel sorry for
you, but there are others who do that. Daisy, suppose I give you back
your money instead of Mrs. Ellsworthy? Give me your little hand, dear,
and let me put the money into it. Here; it makes quite a small
parcel--a ten-pound note, a five-pound note, two sovereigns and a
half. Now, Daisy, shall we keep this as a little secret between
ourselves? Primrose will ask no questions if you beg of her not, and
when you have put that money into her hand will you not be able to
have her with you again?"
Daisy's little hot hand closed tightly over the money. She did not
speak, or even attempt to thank Noel, but her eyes, wider and wider
open each moment, were fixed intently on his face.
"That is settled, then, Daisy," continued Noel, "and we need not think
of Mrs. Ellsworthy just at present, for you do not now need her
services. Of course a Prince is the right person to deliver a little
girl from a dreadful ogre. I don't see that Mrs. Ellsworthy should
have anything to do with it. Now, my dear, I'm going to say one or two
other things to you--you need not feel the least frightened."
"May I really keep the money?" whispered Daisy at last.
"Of course, I said so. We will not say any more on this subject at
present. I have given you the money to-night, because I want you to
have Primrose sitting by your side and nursing you and comforting you.
When Primrose is with you again you will cease to think those gloomy
thoughts about dying. Now I have something else to add before I leave
you."
Noel had now taken a very firm hold of Daisy's little hand. She had
been trembling a good deal, but she had certainly grown calmer.
Perhaps the knowledge that she really did possess some money to give
to Primrose was comforting her. Noel felt a sense of distress at
disturbing even for her eventual good the child's present calm. It
must be done, however, and he thought a moment how he could most
gently deal with her.
"I'm going to tell you a story, Daisy," he said--"a very sad story,
and, alas, a true one. There lives a little girl, I will not tell her
name, although I know it, who has been unfortunate enough to get into
the power of a very bad man. The man is very, very bad, but I will
not mention his name here, although I know it also. The man came to
the little girl and talked to her, and no doubt he threatened her, and
at last he made her promise him something--what, I cannot say. From
the moment this little girl made this promise she became thin and
white, and anxious and unhappy. She struggled against the terrible
promise which seemed to bind her with fetters of iron, but she could
never get away from it, and the man appeared like a terrible ogre to
her, and she longed for a Prince to come and deliver her from him. The
wicked man having terrified this poor little girl, did his best to use
his influence over her to his own ends. At one time she lived in the
house with him, but although she struggled against it her friends
induced her to go elsewhere. Even in the new palace, however, she was
not safe from the terrible ogre; he followed her, and, it is to be
feared, although nothing is absolutely known, that he used cruel
threats to induce her to give him some money which was not hers to
give. The poor little weak girl was afraid to consult any one on
account of her promise. It was quite natural she should think it right
to keep her promise, although it was very sad. She was so completely
under the power of the wicked man, or the ogre, as we will call him,
that she gave him her sister's money--the money that was to support
them all for some months, and then in her great despair she ran
away." Here Noel paused--Daisy's eyes were fixed on him. Her face was
white as death.
"You see, dear, it is a painful story," he said, "but it is not quite
finished yet. The poor little girl ran away, but she never knew what
was happening to the ogre. That wicked man was not allowed to continue
his evil ways without punishment. At the present moment he is locked
up safely in prison, where he can hurt no one. He was put there
because he stole a five-pound note and a ring from the gentleman whom
the little girl used to call the Prince. It is believed, though of
course nothing is certainly known, nor will be until the little girl
is taken out of the thraldom of the ogre and confesses what has
happened, that this wicked man has also stolen a good deal of money
from an envelope which the elder sister used to consider her
'Emergency Fund' envelope. In short, it is thought that his one object
in frightening the poor little girl was simply to rob her and her
sisters. Now that he is in prison, however, and quite out of the way
of harming any one, it is greatly hoped by those who love her that the
poor little one, who was made to suffer so cruelly, will be released
from the thraldom of the wicked ogre, and be made to see that there
are times and circumstances during which even the most truthful little
girl would do better to break her word than to keep it. Now, Daisy,
that is the end of my story; I've got nothing more to say about it,
for at present I know nothing more. Good-night, dear--I will send
Primrose to you. I will come to you when you want me again."