STEP-CHILDREN
Steve’s mother had married again a few years after his father’s death.
She would have preferred remaining unmarried, as she considered it
would have been more faithful to the memory of her dead husband; but
she found herself too poor to educate her children unaided, and bring
them up as she would like to do. It was not a happy marriage, which is
usually the case where there are step-children to cause jealousy--the
more so when the step-parent is not of the best-natured and gentlest
character. Steve’s stepfather respected and, in his way, loved his
wife; but he disliked Steve, because that youngster was a manly and
proud little fellow, and rebelled against his stepfather when the
latter treated him unjustly, or ill-treated his little sisters: which
his stepfather often did, more out of spite to Steve than from any
other reason.
He used to make Steve work (out of school hours) in the garden, chop
wood, carry water, and, in fact, he invented work for the poor boy if
there was no work really wanting to be done. Poor Steve did all this
most patiently and dutifully, even though he lost his play hours;
for he did not really care much for the usual boyish games of his
companions. All he cared for was to secure a candle end to read his
beloved books by at night, when everybody else was sleeping, or to
take his walk into the veld on Sundays, after church time. Amidst the
beauties of Nature, which he loved with the love of a true child of
Nature, he was happy. He was patient and enduring amidst the petty
persecutions of his stepfather, for his mother’s sake, while it only
concerned himself. He did not even complain when his stepfather one
day found him stealing a glimpse into a new book which he had borrowed
from a friend and cruelly took it from him and cast it into the fire.
His stepfather could not have done him greater personal injury if he
had tried for a month to find the way. But Steve took it quietly and
patiently, even though it was a borrowed book and it would take some
of his few most-treasured books to satisfy his friend from whom he had
borrowed the volume. Steve was accustomed to these daily persecutions
from his stepfather.
But there were times when even his stepfather was awed into fear of
him--that was when Steve considered his sisters ill-treated. To give an
instance.
Steve’s mother had a son by her second husband, seven years old at this
time--a child who, perhaps, would have been a good boy if he had been
left to his mother’s care and training. But his father utterly spoiled
him by giving him his desires and wishes unstinted, no matter at what
sacrifice or how foolish those wishes were. If it was the most precious
article belonging to his stepbrother or sisters, if he asked for it,
he was to have it. Steve had long rebelled against this, especially
on behalf of his sisters, but always to no effect. In fact, he made
himself only the more hated by his stepfather. He did not dislike his
little half-brother; he wished to treat and love him as his mother’s
child, but the child’s father made this an impossibility for Steve,
through his continual injustice. The result was that the boy was
perfectly spoiled, and, whenever he saw his brother or sisters have
anything new, he used to cry for it until his father made them give it
up to him.
One evening the whole family was sitting round the table, waiting for
evening prayers, at which the mother always insisted that everyone
should be present. Steve’s sister, Dora, had that day secured at school
a pretty little picture book; she was sitting looking at this when her
little stepbrother, who was sitting next to her, snatched at the book
and tore a leaf. She, of course, pulled the book away from him, which
made the spoiled child set up a fearful howling. His father got up and
gave poor, innocent little Dora a severe slap on the cheek, which made
the poor child turn blue from pain in a moment. Steve could not stand
this. He was now sixteen years of age, and could not quietly see his
little sister treated in such a cruel and unjust way.
He rose, pale from anger, and, striking his fist on the table, which
made the different articles thereon jump again, said in a voice hard
and firm,--
‘By God, if you strike my sister again in that way, I shall kill you.
Do you hear?’ And his voice sounded and his expression looked so
threatening, that the coward (all blusterers are cowards) felt awed and
afraid. He had not the courage to brave Steve in his anger. He looked
down and did not say a word more.