POLLY.
The lodge stood in a very lovely place, upon a slope of ground, which
rose still higher to where the colonel's grand house was situated. There
was a porch before the door, built of rough logs of pines, covered with
ivy and honeysuckle, and with seats in it, where you could sit and look
out over a wide, rich plain, with little hills and dales in it,
stretching far away towards the sky-line, where some distant mountains
lay, so like to clouds, that you could scarcely tell which were soft and
misty vapours, and which were solid and everlasting hills. The Severn ran
through the beautiful plain with so many windings, sometimes lying in
shadow under deep banks, and sometimes glistening and sparkling in the
sunlight, that it looked more like many little pools scattered about the
meadows than one long, continuous river. Not very far away, as Raleigh
had said, stood the Wrekin, purple in the evening haze, but by day so
plain, that one could see the great rock on its summit, which in olden
times served as an altar to the god of fire.
Susan was very busy, and had been very busy all day over two
things--preparing the house for the reception of her father, whom she had
not seen for so many years, and in teaching her little girl, who was now
eighteen months old, to say grand-pa. The one work was quite finished;
everything was ready for old Oliver, and now she was waiting and watching
to see the colonel's spring cart arrive from the station with her
husband, who was gone to meet old Oliver and Tony. For Tony was not on
any account to be parted from the old man--so said the colonel and his
lady--but was to be employed about the garden, and as general errand boy
for the house, and to live at the lodge with old Oliver. Susan's eyes
were red, for as she had been busy about her work, she had several times
cried bitterly over her lost little girl; but she had resolved within
herself not to shed a single tear after her father was come, lest she
should spoil the gladness of his coming home to her. At last the cart
came in sight, and stopped, and Raleigh and Tony sprang out to help
Oliver to get down, while Susan put down Polly in the porch, and ran to
throw her arms round her dear old father's neck.
He was very quiet, poor old Oliver. He had not spoken a word since he
left the station, but had gazed about him as they drove along the
pleasant lane with almost a troubled look upon his tranquil face. When
his dim eyes caught the first glimpse of the Wrekin he lifted his hat
from his white and trembling head, as if to greet it like some great and
dear friend, after so many years of absence. Now he stood still at the
wicket, leaning upon Susan's arm, and looking round him again with a
gentle yet sad smile. The air was so fresh, after the close streets of
London, that to him it seemed even full of scents of numberless flowers;
and the sun was shining everywhere, upon the blossoms in the garden, and
the fine old elm-trees in the park, and the far-off hills. He grasped
Tony's hand in his, and bade him look well about him.
"If only my little love had had a bit of sunshine!" he said, with a
mournful and tender patience in his feeble voice.
But just then--scarcely had he finished speaking--there came a shrill,
merry little scream behind them, so like Dolly's, that both old Oliver
and Tony turned round quickly. It could not be the same, for this little
child was even smaller than Dolly; but as she came pattering and
tottering down the garden-walk towards them, they saw that she had the
same fair curly hair, and blue eyes, and rosy cheeks that Dolly had had
two years before. She ran and hid her face in her mother's gown; but
Susan lifted her into her arms, and held her towards old Oliver.
"Say grand-pa, and kiss him, Polly," she said, coaxingly.
The little child held back shyly for a minute, for old Oliver's head was
shaking much more than usual now; but at length she put her two soft
little hands to his face, and held it between them, while she kissed him.
"Gan-pa!" she cried, crowing and chuckling with delight.
They went indoors to the pleasant parlour, where old Oliver's arm-chair
was set ready for him by the side of the fire, for Susan had kindled a
fire, saying that he would feel the fresh air blowing from the Wrekin;
and Polly sat first on his knee, and then upon Tony's, who could not keep
his eyes from following all her movements. But still it was not their own
Dolly who had made the old house in the close alley in London so happy
and so merry for them. She was gone home to the Father's house, and was
watching for them there. Tony might be a long time before he joined her,
but for old Oliver the parting would be but short. As he sat in the
evening dusk, very peacefully and contentedly, while Susan sang Polly to
sleep in the kitchen, Tony heard him say half aloud, as his custom was,
"Yet a little, and I will come again, and receive you unto myself, that
where I am ye may be also. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!"