RENEWED CONFLICT.
'I'm a murderer, Miss Anne,' said Martha, with a look of settled despair
upon her face, on the evening of the next day.
She had been sitting all the weary hours since morning with her face
buried in her hands, hearing and heeding no one, until Miss Anne came and
sat down beside her, speaking to her in her own kind and gentle tones.
Upon a table in the corner of the cabin lay the little form of the dead
child, covered with a white cloth. The old grandfather was crouching over
the fire, moaning and laughing by turns; and Stephen was again absent,
rambling upon the snowy uplands.
'And for murderers there is pardon,' said Miss Anne softly.
'Oh, I never thought I wanted pardon,' cried Martha; 'I always felt I'd
done my duty better than any of the girls about here. But I've killed
little Nan; and now I remember how cross I used to be when nobody was
nigh, till she grew quite timmer-some of me. Everybody knows I've
murdered her; and now it doesn't signify how bad I am. I shall never get
over that.'
'Martha,' said Miss Anne, 'you are not so guilty of the child's death as
my uncle, who ought to have had the pit bricked over safely when it was
no longer in use. But you say you never thought you wanted pardon. Surely
you feel your need of it now.'
'But God will never forgive me now,' replied Martha hopelessly; 'I see
how wicked I have been, but the chance is gone by. God will not forgive
me now; nor Stephen.'
'We will not talk about Stephen,' said Miss Anne; 'but I will tell you
about God. When He gave His commandments to mankind that they might obey
them, He proclaimed His own name at the same time. Listen to His name,
Martha: "The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering,
and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands,
forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin." If you would not go to Him
for mercy when you did not feel your need of it, He was keeping it for
you against this time; saving and treasuring it up for you, "that He
might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness towards us,
through Christ Jesus." He is waiting to pardon your iniquity, for
Christ's sake. Do you wish to be forgiven now? Do you feel that you are a
sinful girl, Martha?'
'I have thought of nothing else all day long,' whispered Martha; 'I have
helped to kill little Nan by my sins.'
'Yes,' said Miss Anne mournfully; 'if, like Stephen, you had opened your
heart to the gentle teaching of the Holy Spirit, if you had looked to
Jesus, trusted in Him, and followed Him, this grief would not have come
upon you and upon all of us. For Bess would not have persuaded you to
leave your own duties, and little Nan would have been alive still.'
'Oh, I knew I'd killed her!' cried a voice behind them; and, looking
round, Miss Anne saw that the door had been softly opened, and Bess had
crept in unheard. Her face was swollen with weeping, and she stood
wringing her hands, as she cast a fearful glance at the white-covered
table in the corner.
'Come here, Bess,' said Miss Anne; and the girl crept to them, and sat
down on the ground at their feet. Miss Anne talked long with them about
little Nan's death, until they shed many tears in true contrition of
heart for their sinfulness; and when they appeared to feel their own
utter helplessness, she explained to them, in such simple and easy
language as Bess could understand, how they could obtain salvation
through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. After which they all knelt down;
and Miss Anne prayed earnestly for the weeping and heart-broken girls,
who, as yet, hardly knew how they could frame any prayers for themselves.
When Miss Anne left the cabin the night was quite dark but the snow which
lay unmelted on the mountains showed their outlines plainly with a pale
gleaming of light though the sky was overcast with more snow-clouds. Her
heart was full of sadness for Stephen, who was wandering, no one knew
whither, among the snowdrifts on the solitary plains. She knew that he
must be passing through a terrible trial and temptation, but she could do
nothing for him; her voice could not reach him, nor her eye tell him by a
silent look how deeply she felt for him. Yet Miss Anne knew who it is
that possesseth 'the shields of the earth,' and in her earnest
thanksgiving to God for Martha and Bess Thompson, she prayed fervently
that the boy might be shielded and sheltered in his great sorrow, and
that when he was tried he might come forth as gold.
All the day long, Stephen, instead of going to his work in the pit, had
been rambling, without aim or purpose, over the dreary uplands; here and
there stretching himself upon the wiry heath, where the sun had dried
away the snow, and hiding his face from the light, while he gave way to
an anguish of grief, and broke the deep silence with a loud and very
bitter cry. It was death, sudden death, he was lamenting. Only yesterday
morning little Nan was clinging strongly to his neck, and covering his
face with merry kisses; and every now and then he felt as if he was only
dreaming, and he started down towards home, as though he could not
believe that those tender arms were stiffened and that rosy mouth still
in death. But before he could run many paces the truth was borne in upon
his aching heart that she was surely dead; and never more in this life
would he see and speak to her, or listen to her lisping tongue. Little
Nan, dearest of all earthly things,--perhaps dearer to him in the infancy
of his Christian life than the Saviour Himself,--was removed from him
so far that she was already a stranger, and he knew nothing of her.
Towards evening he found himself, in his aimless wandering, drawing near
to Fern's Hollow, where she had lived. The outer shell of the new house
was built up, the three rooms above and below, with the little dairy and
coal-shed beside them, and Stephen, even in his misery, was glad of the
shelter of the blank walls from the cutting blast of the north wind; for
he felt that he could not go home to the cabin where the dead child--no
longer darling little Nan--was lying. Poor Stephen! He sat down on a heap
of bricks upon the new hearth, where no household fire had ever been
kindled; and, while the snow-flakes drifted in upon him unheeded, he
buried his face again in his hands, and went on thinking, as he had been
doing all day. He would never care to come back now to Fern's Hollow.
No! he would get away to some far-off country, where he should never more
hear the master's name spoken. Let him keep the place, he thought, and
let it be a curse to him, for he had bought it with a child's blood. If
the law gave him back Fern's Hollow, it would not avenge little Nan's
death; and he had no power. But the master was a murderer; and Stephen
knelt down on the desolate hearth, where no prayer had ever been uttered,
and prayed God that the sin and punishment of murder might rest upon his
enemy.
Was it consolation that filled Stephen's heart when he rose from his
knees? It seemed as if his spirit had grown suddenly harder, and in some
measure stronger. He did not feel afraid now of going down to the cabin,
where the little lifeless corpse was stretched out; and he strode away
down the hill with rapid steps. When the thought of Martha, and his
grandfather, and Miss Anne crossed his mind, it was with no gentle,
tender emotion, but with a strange feeling that he no longer cared for
them. All his love was gone with little Nan. Only the thought of the
master, and the terrible reckoning that lay before him, sent a thrill
through his heart. 'I shall be there at the judgment,' he muttered half
aloud, looking up to the cold, cloudy sky, almost as if he expected to
see the sign of the coming of the Lord. But there was no sign there; and,
after gazing for a minute or two, he turned in the direction of the
cabin, where he could see a glimmer of the light within through the
chinks of the door and shutter.
Bess and Martha were still sitting hand in hand as Miss Anne had left
them; but they both started up as Stephen entered, pale and ghastly from
his long conflict with grief and temptation on the hills. He was come
home conquered, though he did not know it; and the expression of his face
was one of hatred and vengeance, instead of sorrow and love. He bade
Black Bess to be off out of his sight in a voice so changed and harsh,
that both the girls were frightened, and Martha stole away tremblingly
with her. He was alone then, with his sleeping grandfather on the bed,
and the dead child lying in the corner, from which he carefully averted
his eyes; when there came a quiet tap at the door, and, before he could
answer, it was slowly opened, and the master stepped into the cabin. He
stood before the boy, looking into his white face in silence, and when he
spoke his voice was very husky and low.
'My lad,' he said, 'I'm very sorry for you; and I'll have the pit bricked
over at once. It had slipped my memory, Stephen; but Martha knew of it,
and she ought to have taken better care of the child. It is no fault of
mine; or it is only partly my fault, at any rate. But, whether or no, I'm
come to tell you I'm willing to bear the expenses of the funeral in
reason; and here's a sovereign for you besides, my lad.'
The master held out a glittering sovereign in his hand, but Stephen
pushed it away, and, seizing his arm firmly, drew him, reluctant as he
was, to the white-covered table in the corner. There was no look of pain
upon the pale, placid little features before them; but there was an awful
stillness, and all the light of life was gone out of the open eyes, which
were fixed into an upward gaze. The Bible, which Stephen had not looked
for that morning, had been used instead of a cushion, and the motionless
head lay upon it.
'That was little Nan yesterday,' said Stephen hoarsely; 'she is gone to
tell God all about you. You robbed us of our own home; and you've been
the death of little Nan. God's curse will be upon you. It's no use my
cursing; I can do nothing; but God can punish you better than me. A while
ago I thought I'd get away to some other country where I'd never hear of
you; but I'll wait now, if I'm almost clemmed to death, till I see what
God will do at you. Take your money. You've robbed me of all I love, but
I won't take from you what you love. I'll only wait here till I see what
God can do.'
He loosed his grasp then, and opened the door wide. The master muttered a
few words indistinctly, but he did not linger in the cabin beside that
awful little corpse. The night had already deepened into intense
darkness; and Stephen, standing at the door to listen, thought, with a
quick tingling through all his veins, that perhaps the master would
himself fall down the open pit. But no, he passed on securely; and
Martha, coming in shortly afterwards, ventured to remark that she had
just brushed against the master in the lane, and wondered where he was
going to at that time of night.
Miss Anne came to see Stephen the next day; but, though he seemed to
listen to her respectfully, she felt that she had lost her influence over
him; and she could do nothing for him but intercede with God that the
Holy Spirit, who only can enter into our inmost souls and waken there
every memory, would in His own good time recall to Stephen's heart all
the lessons of love and forgiveness he had been learning, and enable him
to overcome the evil spirit that had gained the mastery over him.
All the people in Botfield wished to attend little Nan's funeral, but
Stephen would not consent to it. At first he said only Tim and himself
should accompany the tiny coffin to the churchyard at Longville; but
Martha implored so earnestly to go with them, that he was compelled to
relent. The coffin was placed in a little cart, drawn by one of the
hill-ponies, and led slowly by Tim; while Stephen and Martha walked
behind, the latter weeping many humble and repentant tears, as she
thought sorrowfully of little Nan; but Stephen with a set and gloomy
face, and a heart that pondered only upon the calamities that should
overtake his enemy.