A NEW CALLING.
Stephen's recovery went on so slowly, that the doctor who attended him
said it would not be fit for him to resume his underground labour for
some months to come, if he were ever able to do so; and advised him to
seek some out-door employment. His old comrades began to find the weekly
subscription to make up his wages rather a tax upon their own earnings;
and Stephen himself was unwilling to be a burden upon them any longer.
As soon, therefore, as he was strong enough to bear the journey, he
resolved to cross the hills again to Danesford, to see when Mr. Lockwood
was coming home, and what help the clergyman left in charge of his duty
could give to him. Tim brought his father's donkey for him to ride, and
went with him across the uplands. The hard frosts and the snow were
over, for it was past the middle of March; but the house at Fern's
Hollow remained in precisely the same state as when little Nan died; not
a stroke of work had been done at it, and a profound silence brooded
over the place. Perhaps the master had lost all pleasure in his
ill-gotten possession!
So changed was Stephen, though Danesford looked exactly the same, so
tall had he grown during his illness, and so white was his formerly
brown face, that the big boy who had shown him the way to the rectory
did not know him again in the least. Probably Mr. Lockwood and his
daughter would not have recognised him; but they were still lingering in
a warmer climate, until the east winds had quite finished their course.
The strange clergyman, however, was exceedingly kind to both the boys,
and promised to send a full and faithful account to Mr. Lockwood of all
the circumstances they narrated to him; for Tim told of many things
which Stephen passed over. They had done right in coming to him, he
said; and he gave Stephen enough money to supply the immediate
necessities of his family, at the same time bidding him apply for more
if he needed any; for he knew that a boy of his principle and character
would never live upon other people's charity whenever he could work for
himself.
How refreshing and strengthening it was upon the tableland that spring
afternoon! The red leaf-buds of the bilberry-wires were just bursting
forth, and the clumps of gorse were tinged with the first golden
flowers. Every kind of moss was there carpeting the ground with a bright
fresh green from the moisture of the spring showers. As for the birds,
they seemed absolutely in a frenzy of enjoyment, and seemed to forget
that they had their nests to build as they flew from bush to bush,
singing merrily in the sunshine.
Tim wrapped a cloak round Stephen; and then they faced the breeze gaily,
as it swept to meet them with a pure breath over miles of heath and
budding flowers. No wonder that Stephen's heart rose within him with a
rekindled gladness and gratitude; while Tim became almost as wild as the
birds. But Stephen began to feel a little tired as they neared Fern's
Hollow, though they were still two miles from the cinder-hill cabin.
'Home, home!' he said, rather mournfully, pointing to the new house.
'Tim, I remember I used to feel in myself as if that was to be my own
home for ever. I didn't think that God only meant it to be mine for a
little while, even if I kept it till I died. And when I thought I was
going to die, it seemed as if it didn't signify what kind of a place
we'd lived in, or what troubles had happened to us. Yesterday, Tim, Miss
Anne showed me a verse about us being strangers and pilgrims upon the
earth.'
'Perhaps we are pilgrims,' replied Tim, 'but we aren't much strangers on
these hills.'
'It means,' said Stephen, 'that we are no more at home here than a
stranger is when he is passing through Botfield. I'm willing now never
to go back to Fern's Hollow, if God pleases. Not that little Nan is
gone; but because I'm sure God will do what is best with me, and we're
to have no continuing city here. I think I shouldn't feel a bit angry if
I saw other people living there.'
'Hillo! what's that?' cried Tim.
Surely it could not be smoke from the top of the new chimney? Yes; a
thin, clear blue column of smoke was curling briskly up into the air,
and then floating off in a banner over the hillside. Somebody was there,
that was certain; and the first fire had been lighted on the
hearthstone. There was a sharp pang in Stephen's heart, and he cast down
his eyes for a moment, but then he looked up to the sky above him with a
smile; while Tim set up a loud shout, and urged the donkey to a canter.
'It's Martha!' he cried; 'I saw her gown peeping round the corner of the
wall. I'll lay a wager it's her print gown. Come thy ways; we'll make
sure afore we pass.'
It was Martha waiting for them at the old wicket, and Bess was just
within the doorway. They were come so far to meet the travellers, and
had even prepared tea for them in the new kitchen, having cleared away
some of the bricks and mortar, and raised benches with the pieces of
planks left about. Tea was just ready for Stephen's refreshment, and he
felt that he was in the greatest need of it; so they sat down to it as
soon as Martha had laid out the provisions, among which was a cake sent
by Miss Anne. The fire of wood-chips blazed brightly, and gave out a
pleasant heat; and every one of the little party felt a quiet enjoyment,
though there were many tender thoughts of little Nan.
'We may be pilgrims,' said Tim reflectively, over a slice of cake, 'but
there's lots of pleasant things sent us by the way.'
They were still at tea when the gamekeeper, who was passing by, and who
guessed from the smoke from the chimney, and the donkey grazing in the
new pasture, that some gipsies had taken possession of Fern's Hollow,
came to look through the unglazed window. He had not seen Stephen since
his illness, and there was something in his wasted face and figure which
touched even him.
'I'm sorry to see thee looking so badly, my lad,' he said; 'I must speak
to my missis to send you something nourishing, for I've not forgotten
you, Stephen. If ever there comes a time when I can speak up about any
business of yours without hurting myself, you may depend upon me; but I
don't like making enemies, and the Bible says we must live peaceably
with all men. I heard talk of you wanting some out-door work for a
while; and there's my wife's brother is wanting a shepherd's boy. He'd
take you at my recommendation, and I'd be glad to speak a word for you.
Would that do for you?'
Stephen accepted the offer gladly; and when the gamekeeper was gone,
they sang a hymn together, so blotting out by an offering of praise the
evil prayer which he had uttered upon that hearth on the night of his
desolation and strong conflict. Pleasant was the way home to the old
cabin in the twilight; pleasant the hearty 'Good-night' of Tim and Bess;
but most pleasant of all was the calm sense of truth, and the submissive
will with which Stephen resigned himself to the providence of God.
The work of a shepherd was far more to Stephen's taste than his
dangerous toil as a collier. From his earliest years he had been
accustomed to wander with his grandfather over the extensive
sheep-walks, seeking out any strayed lambs, or diligently gathering food
for the sick ones of the flock. To be sure, he could only earn little
more than half his former wages, and his time for returning from his
work would always be uncertain, and often very late. But then, sorrowful
consideration! there was no little Nan to provide for now, nor to fill
up his leisure hours at home. Martha was earning money for herself; and
as yet the master had demanded no rent for their miserable cabin; so his
earnings as a shepherd's boy would do until Mr. Lockwood came back.
Still upon the mountains he would be exposed to the bleak winds and
heavy storms of the spring; while underground the temperature had always
been the same. No wonder that Miss Anne, when she looked at the boy's
wasted and enfeebled frame, listened with unconcealed anxiety to his new
project for gaining his livelihood; and so often as the spring showers
swept in swift torrents across the sky, lifted up her eyes wistfully to
the unsheltered mountains, as she pictured Stephen at the mercy of the
pitiless storm.