WHO WAS LINA?
The sound of sleigh-bells stopping suddenly and a sharp knock at his own
door, aroused Ben from his mournful prayers. He got up and turned the
latch. To his astonishment, it was broad daylight. The persons who had
aroused him were James and Ralph Harrington.
"Ben," said Ralph, stepping eagerly forward, "tell us--repeat to James
what you refused to tell Lina. On your life, on your honor, dear old
Ben: tell him whose child she is."
"All that you know about her. I am sure there is something you can
explain. If you ever loved her or care for me, speak out now. You said
that she had gone off because you refused to tell her something."
Ben had been praying in the presence of death, and there were both power
and pathos in his voice as he clasped those rough hands and said:
"As the great God aloft is his witness! Ralph Harrington, Ben Benson
spoke nothing but the truth when he said that ere."
"But you will tell us, for her dear sake, you will tell us."
"Yes, Master Ralph I will. Jist ask what you want to know, and I'll tell
it."
"Who was she, Ben? I've asked my mother often, but she always answered,
that the child, while a mere infant, was seen one day wandering on the
banks of the river, quite alone. At night, she came up to the house, and
was found asleep on the door-step--from that day to this, she has never
been inquired after, but dropped into the family naturally as a
pet-bird. I loved her the better for having no friends--for belonging
entirely to us."
Ben drew the back of one hand across his eyes and dropped into his
lounging attitude again.
"But, yet, she had one friend, Mister Ralph."
"And, who was that?"
"Ben Benson--as carried her up to that ere identical door-step, and laid
her down like the babes in the woods--a knowing in his heart all the
time, that Mrs. Harrington would take her in the minute she sot her eyes
on her purty face."
"You know who she was, then?"
"I ought to," answered Ben, "for she was my own sister's child."
"Your sister's child!"
"You wouldn't a belaved it; for the mother of that gal was like a water
lily, fresh from the pond, when I run away from hum and went to sea."
"Well," said Ralph, breathless.
"The old man died a little while after I ran off, and so the poor little
thing was left alone, to fight her way through the world. She had more
larning than ever could be driv into my brain, and went into a rich
man's family to larn his children their letters. There was a young
feller in that house, as was likewise given to larning, a sickly, pale
chap, just a going into consumption. This chap loved the orphan gal, and
as her hard-hearted brother had deserted the helm, he stepped in and
took the craft amost without a summons."
"They got married somewhere down in York, and in less 'en three months
arter, the poor, young feller died--neither on 'em had plucked up
courage enough to tell the proud, old father, and the young man was took
off so suddenly at last, that he hadn't no chance."
"Lizzy was obliged to speak out arter this, but the certificate was
amongst his things, and the old folks pretended that it never could be
found. She didn't know where to find the minister as married 'em, and
so her husband's own father turned her out of doors. When I came ashore
two years arter, no one could tell me where she had gone; but a few
months arter I cast anchor in this ere land-craft, my poor sister came
here one night, leading a toddling little girl by the hand. That gal was
Lina. My sister's face was white as foam, when she came in. I asked her
about the child, and she told me what I have been a telling you. In the
night she went away. I had fell asleep, leaning against the wall, and
didn't know she was agoing. The baby was left behind on the husk-bed.
"The next thing, my sister wandered back to the lonesome place, where
she and her baby had lived together, and without telling any one that
she was sick, lay down and died.
"Ben Benson sat in his cabin all that day, and the little child went out
and in like a lonesome bird, now a picking posies from the bank and agin
crying by the cabin door. That miserable old feller never had but one
guardian spirit on arth, and that ere night he thought of her, while the
baby lay hived up in his bosom. So he took the child up as if it had
been a little helpless lamb, and laid it down where that ere angel could
find it."
"And this was Lina!" exclaimed Ralph, with tears in his eyes. "I thank
you, Ben."
"You know this--you are certain of her identity?" said James Harrington.
"I am sartin that she's my own sister's darter, and can swear to it
afore God and man," was Ben's solemn reply. "But where is the gal? Is
she found--will she come back--does she know as this ere old chap is her
uncle?"
"She knows nothing," said Ralph, shaking the hand which Ben extended
while propounding these eager questions. "She is yonder in the sleigh,
Ben--no, not yet; she is ill, and the least excitement may do harm. Go
and find us an entrance to the house; we have tried the doors, but no
one seems astir--my fa--the General, is not home, I suppose"----
"No," answered Ben, believing what he said; "I haven't seen the General
about these four days."
"And my mother?" inquired Ralph.
"She's sartain to be there, poor lady," answered Ben, shaking his head
sorrowfully.
"Yes, yes, she's pining about Lina, but that will soon be over--bless
the dear girl--on second thought, if my mother is ill, I had better go
myself; some of the servants must be up by this time. See, there she is,
Ben, in the sleigh, muffled up in furs, poor little birdie. Go speak to
her, but remember she is feeble as a babe, so be very quiet."
"You can trust old Ben Benson for that ere," cried the boatman, looking
eagerly towards the sleigh; but with the first glance great tears came
chasing each other down his cheeks, and all unconsciously he held out
both arms, shouting, "my own, own little gal!"
There was a struggle in the sleigh, and with low murmurs of delight,
Lina held forth her hand.
"Remember and keep cool," said Ralph; then turning towards James, he
said, "drive to the door, I will soon rouse the household."
With these words he strode towards the house, eager to carry glad
tidings to his mother.