As soon as John awoke in the morning, all the occurrences of the previous
day passed in review through his memory; at last he recollected that he
was to give Mr. Martin an answer as to Mr. Laurie. "Well," thought he, "I
suppose I must go to the farm, but I would much rather stay with the
Minister and Miss Helen; for it was very pleasant walking with them
yesterday, and I liked very much to hear them converse and Miss Helen
sing; she surely has a pleasing voice. I wonder whether Marion can sing. I
am not sure whether I shall much like going to the hill every day, for it
is a tiresome life to be so many hours alone; but then," continued he, "I
cannot stay with Mr. Martin, for he has a herd-boy that has lived with him
some time; and I am sure I should not wish to make him lose his place, for
he, poor fellow, has no father any more than I have; and besides," added
he, "I am to have leave to come home every night to learn to read. I shall
take the place, if it be only for that; and again," continued he, after
thinking a little, "if my poor father were alive, he would think it such
an honour for the Minister himself to take the trouble of teaching his
son, and, now that he is dead, I am determined never to do any thing, that
he would have disapproved. However, I am glad that I have got summer
weather to begin with: I shall understand the business better before the
winter comes on, and, perhaps, be more reconciled to it."
After coming to this wise determination, John sprang out of bed and
dressed himself as quickly as he could. When he came down stairs he was
surprised to find that all the family were up and at work. The study bell
rang, just as he got to the kitchen-door, and the maid said, "it is well,
my man, you are down before the bell has rung for prayers. See what the
Minister would have said, if you had been in your bed then? but come away
now, for we must not keep our master waiting."--Accordingly he followed
her into the study, where all the family were assembled, once more, to
render thanks to their Creator for the blessings of a new day.
Helen gave her mother, during breakfast, an account of all she had seen
and done the day before; and when she had finished her recital, she said,
"Mamma, I have been thinking this morning that I have a half-guinea that
my grandmamma Elliott gave me, when she was last here, to buy a new gown;
at present I do not particularly want one, and I should like very much
that you would allow me to go down the water as far as Langholm, to buy
some coarse cloth to make frocks for poor David Little's children; they
are almost naked, and I do not think their father will be able to procure
them clothes for some time, while he is lying on a sick bed." "Helen,"
said her mother, "you may do exactly as you please with your half-guinea,
it is your own; but I would have you think the subject well over before
you act. You know I have promised that you shall go with your father and
me to Melrose this autumn. Now, perhaps, you would like to have a new gown
to wear whilst you are there. It is but fair to tell you, that I shall not
be able to afford to buy you one this summer, having spent all I can
conveniently spare, in fitting out your brother for school. Therefore, my
dear, you must choose whether you prefer going to Melrose in your old
gown, in order to have the pleasure of dressing these poor little
creatures, or expend your money and appear smart, when you make your first
visit from home." Helen looked very serious for some minutes, and then
said, "my dear mamma, if you please, I will wait till to-morrow before I
give you my answer; for, at present, I really do not know what to do. I
should certainly like to be dressed neatly when I go to see grandmamma;
because I know that that would give her pleasure; but when I think of the
poor little naked children, they make my heart ache." "Very well, my dear,
be it so, go now, and begin your morning lessons."
Mr. Martin then desired the servant, who was taking away the breakfast
things, to send John into his study, and giving Helen a kiss, and telling
her to be very attentive to her mother's instructions, left the room. On
entering the study, he found John standing ready to receive him. "Well,
John, what answer am I to give to Mr. Laurie?" asked Mr. Martin, "will you
be his servant and my scholar, or have you any objection to the plan?
Speak out, and don't be afraid. If you dislike being a herd-boy, I will
endeavour to think of something else, that may suit you better." "Thank
you, Sir, from my heart; I did intend only to say, yes, I will be Mr.
Laurie's herd-boy; but since you ask me if I have any objection, I will
tell you, Sir, all that has passed in my mind. I have been thinking how
lonely it will be up in the hills all day, and how cold and dreary I shall
feel when the winter comes on; but just as I had determined to tell you, I
would rather not be Mr. Laurie's servant, I remembered my poor father, and
how proud he would be, if he knew that you would teach me to read
yourself. That thought put all about the hill quite out of my head; and,
therefore, if you please, I will go to Mr. Laurie's whenever he wishes
it." "That is acting like a good and sensible boy," said Mr. Martin, "and
I hope you will have no reason to repent of your decision. I shall go now
and call on Mr. Laurie, and make an agreement for your coming to me in the
evening; and I think you had best come along with me and hear what he
wishes you to do." John went for his bonnet directly, and walked after Mr.
Martin, keeping near enough to speak to him, but still far enough behind,
to show his respect. "Sir," said John, as he walked along, "do you think
Mr. Laurie will give me a holiday on Handsel Monday?" (the first Monday in
the year, and the only holiday the Scottish peasantry ever allow
themselves, except, perhaps, in the case of a wedding). "Really, John,
that is a question I cannot answer; but if he does, how would you like to
employ it?" "The thing I should like best to do would be to take another
walk with you and Miss Helen. Oh, indeed, Sir, I never was so happy in my
life as I was yesterday; and besides, somehow it seems to have done me a
great deal of good, for I felt so miserable and unhappy from the time I
lost my father and mother, that I had no heart to do any thing; and it
seemed quite a trouble to me to move. Yesterday, when you first showed me
that great chest of books, and bade me dust them, I had nearly burst into
tears; but now, Sir, I feel as brisk as ever, and am sure I would do any
thing in the world to please you." "I am very glad to hear it, John; only
I think if you take another walk with us, we must bargain to have no
spurs." "No, no," said John, laughing, "you may be sure of that; I had
enough of them yesterday."
They found Mr. Laurie at home; who very readily agreed to the proposal of
John's learning to read at the Manse, and promised that he should attend
regularly. He said, he must come into his service on the next Tuesday
morning, and, as he required him to set off by four o'clock for the hill,
he thought it would be best for John to sleep at the farm on Monday
evening. He promised to send his own shepherd along with him, for the
first day or two, to show him the method of managing the sheep; and also
to train the dogs to obey him readily. John was greatly pleased with this
promise, and returned to the Manse, in high spirits. Helen had finished
her lessons and was walking out with her mother; but it being Saturday,
Mr. Martin, as was his constant custom on that day, shut himself up in his
study, to prepare for the duty of the Sabbath. John, therefore, amused
himself as well as he could, by running down to the holm, and fishing with
an old fishing-rod, he found in the stable; and though he was not very
successful, he yet found sport enough to be pleased.
At dinner, Helen complained of a bad headache, and was obliged to go and
lie down. Mrs. Martin was rather uneasy, as she had observed Helen's eyes
to be heavy, and feared it might arise from fever. Helen, however, was
much better after a short sleep, and got up to tea. As they were sitting
round the table, John put his head in the door, and said, Archie Kerr was
come down the dale, with the curiosities which he had found. Mr. Martin
desired him to walk into the parlour; and added "John, my lad, you may
come in, and see them too, if you like." Mr. Martin examined them, and
found them exceedingly curious. He was looking at one of the coins at the
window, when Mrs. Martin kindly enquired of Archie, how all his neighbours
were, up the dale. "Thank ye, ma'am, all are well, excepting Mr. Scott's
family at Craigie Hall, where poor little Marion is very ill. I am going,
when I leave the Minister, to Langholm, for Mr. Armstrong; as her father
was so distressed, that Mrs. Scott was afraid to let her husband come
himself." "If that is the case, Archie," said Mr. Martin, coming forward,
"I won't detain you another minute. Put up all your coins, and leave them
in my care till your return; and if you find Mr. Armstrong at home, tell
him he will oblige me by calling here, on his way, to let us know how the
poor little girl is. For the sake of her parents, I trust she will shortly
recover."
Archie set off immediately, and Mr. Martin and his family sat conversing
together till the usual hour of going to supper, when one of the servants
looked in, and said, "if you please, Sir, did you send John any where?"
"No, indeed;" answered Mr. Martin; "is he not in the kitchen?" "No, Sir,"
answered the maid; "and I cannot find him any where; the herd tells me,
that, as he was driving his sheep home, he saw John run down the lane as
fast as he could, and then down the holm. Colin thought he had forgotten
his fishing-rod, and was gone to fetch it, but he must have been back long
before this time, had that been his errand." This account seriously
alarmed both Mr. and Mrs. Martin; for it was very possible, that, in
looking for the fishing-rod, he might have fallen into the river. Mr.
Martin, therefore, anxiously took his hat and went in search of him. He
had become most truly attached to the boy, and would have been grieved to
the heart had any harm befallen him. After searching all along the river,
for nearly a mile, he was on the point of returning to get some assistance
to drag for him, when he heard the sound of feet as of some one running.
He listened; for the moon was not up, and the night was too dark to enable
him to see at any distance. The steps approached, and in a few seconds, he
was convinced that it was John running as fast as he could. He called to
him, but John was too much out of breath to answer. Mr. Martin's mind now
felt eased on the certainty of the boy's safety. He sat down on the bank,
to recover himself, being completely overpowered, and for some minutes
could not articulate a word; but silently offered up his thanks to
Providence for relieving him from such a state of misery, as well as for
the boy's safety. John, who had stood still, when he reached Mr. Martin,
could not think what was the matter, but seeing his master sitting on the
damp grass, entreated him to tell him if he was ill, and wanted to run on
to the house, for assistance. "No John," said Mr. Martin, "you have run
enough for one night.--Where have you been to give us all such a
fright?"--"Indeed, Sir, I am sorry if I frightened any of the family,"
replied John; "I did not think of that, but I will tell you the whole
truth if you will only rise; for I am sadly afraid, you will catch cold by
sitting on the grass."--"You are right, my dear, I will rise immediately;
and do you tell me where you have been, for we thought you were drowned."
"Why, Sir," he said, "I was looking at that curious urn which Archie
found, when I heard him tell my mistress that poor Marion Scott was ill,
and that he was going to Langholm for Mr. Armstrong. Now, sir, when I used
to live with my father and mother, near Langholm, I many times observed
Archie come down there, and though I should be sorry to be a tale-bearer,
yet I cannot help explaining to you my reasons for acting as I did. I
often saw him in the public-house, and my father used to say he was sure
Archie would never do any good, if he did not mend his habits; for his
custom was to stop and drink spirits at every place where a dram was to be
had, all the way down the dale, and repeat the same on his return home
again. I remember once he was a whole day and night getting from Langholm
to the _Shaw rigg_. I thought, therefore, if Archie played his old trick
of stopping by the way, perhaps poor Marion might be dead before Mr.
Armstrong could get near her; so I determined that I would just run
myself; for she was kind to me yesterday, much kinder than you know of;
for, when you were all laughing at me, (which I very well deserved) Marion
came and whispered to me that my coat was torn, and that, if I would go
into the stable, she would mend it. I thought the least I could do, in
return, now that she is in trouble, was to try to get her some advice.
"I luckily found Mr. Armstrong, and he assured me, that as soon as his
horse was saddled, he would go to her; and only think, Sir, when I came
back again, I saw Archie sitting in Robert Miller's house, drinking with
another man, I was so happy that I had gone myself! but now, Sir, that I
find I have frightened you and my mistress and dear Miss Helen, who was
not very well before, I do not know whether I ought to be glad that I went
or not." "You are a good-hearted grateful boy," said Mr. Martin, "and have
acted very properly, only you should have told some of us where you were
going, and then all would have been right." "I could not do that, Sir, for
I did not wish to tell of Archie's tricks; and I made quite sure that I
should be back long before the hour of prayer; I thought you would not
miss me till then." "Very likely I should not, had not Nelly come in
search of you; but it was very natural for her, and very proper, when she
discovered you were missing, to inform me of it."
"Here we are, my dear wife, all safe," cried Mr. Martin, when he came near
the green plat, where Mrs. Martin stood with a lantern prepared, and Nelly
ready to search for her master and John also; "all is right. John has been
on a very needful errand, and no harm is done, save the unnecessary alarm
we have been put into; he has promised me, however, to be more careful, in
future, in letting us know before he sets out on any of his errands; so
let us go into the house for some supper, and give me a glass of raspberry
whisky, to keep me from taking cold, as I have been out too long in the
night air, and feel chilled with the damp of the river." Helen was gone to
bed by her mother's advice, but she could not sleep till she heard that
John had returned safely.