MOTHER AND SON.
Very miserable--Past hope--Mother and son--Breaking
down--Resignation--"It is well."
The doctor's carriage with the broken-winded pony was standing at the
door of the farm. Mrs Valentine had just come out, and was talking to
the doctor's little boy, who sat holding the reins.
"Hallo, Harry," he cried, "home from school?"
"Hush, Master Bromley, don't make such a noise!" interposed Mrs
Valentine.
Without taking any notice of Master Bromley, Harry exclaimed nervously
to Mrs Valentine--
"Is mamma worse, Mrs Valentine?"
"Yes, dear," the good farmer's wife answered; "you mustn't go in now.
She's very bad, indeed. Mr Bromley is with her."
So Harry ran into the orchard, and sitting down under a tree, felt very
miserable. His mamma was worse--was she really dying now? The
terrible examination--he remembered her words about his work, and going
to Oxford. What was he to do? Was he to get leave from school, and
give up the chance of getting the prize, and stay at home with mamma
instead? But wouldn't that vex her, and perhaps make her worse?
Besides, what use could he be at home? Ah! but if she were to die when
he was away? No, no; he could not go away and leave her. He must stay
with her now! The examination was nothing!
Such were the thoughts that coursed through Harry's brain; for though
only thirteen years old, he was, in point of mind, far beyond his
years, not in his school work, but in his ideas and feelings on general
subjects of every-day life; and the reason of this was his having had,
for so long, his mother as his only companion.
Presently Mrs Valentine came out to him. Her eyes were very red, for
she had been crying.
"You can come in now, Master Harry."
"Mrs Valentine, is mamma dying? What can I do? She mustn't die.
Can't Mr Bromley do anything for her?" cried Harry.
"No, dear boy. Mr Bromley can't do anything for her, poor dear; nor
any one else either, for the matter of that. He can only make her
easier for the time, like."
"But will mamma die before papa comes home?"
"She may die very--very soon," sobbed Mrs Valentine.
By this time they were at the door, and Mrs Valentine left Harry to run
quietly upstairs to his mother's room. He found her in bed, looking
fearfully white, saving two red hectic spots glowing in her wasted
cheeks. Her hands were dry and hot; and when she began to speak, a fit
of coughing made utterance impossible. Harry sat by the bedside, and
burst out crying. After a few minutes, Mrs Campbell said in a low
voice, but so cheerfully--
"Well, Harry dear, how did the examination go off?"
"It's not over, mamma; and, please, don't talk about that. Are you
really going to die, mamma? Tell me, is it really true?"
"Yes, darling boy, I am really going away from you now, and soon,
too--very soon."
"What shall I do when you are gone, mamma? How shall I----" and here
Harry fairly broke down; he could speak no more.
"Don't cry, Harry; it makes me so sad. Don't you know I am going to
heaven, and there will be no pain there. I shall not cough any more.
You mustn't cry so. Tell me about school; I like to hear it all. I am
not going to die to-day, darling boy. We shall have a little longer
together. Tell me about the examination."
How Harry longed to pour his story out to her, of Egerton and Mr
Prichard. But he wouldn't do so now. He would bear it by himself. He
had run home so quickly, meaning to tell her all, and knowing she would
believe and pity him, and tell him what to do. But how could he
distress her now? So he only answered very quietly--
"I did the paper pretty well, mamma; I think; the examiner doesn't come
for two or three days; but--but--you won't be here--then," and back
came the memory of the fateful message, back came the fears at the
thought that he would be alone in the world then.
"How hot the room is," sighed Mrs Campbell. "It makes me feel so weak."
"Ah! the air isn't like it was at Malta; is it, mamma? You told me it
was so cool and sweet there; didn't you, mamma?"
"Yes, dear boy; but those cool winds have made me like this. It was
sitting out, in the evenings there, that first gave me my cough. But
it was God's will," she said half to herself, "and why should one look
to second causes?"
"Go and have your dinner, Harry dear or you will be late for school,"
she said to him.
"Must I go to school, mamma, and leave you?"
"Yes, dear," she answered, "it is far better for you to go, as usual.
They shall send for you if--if-- Go down now, dear," she added,
falteringly.
And when Harry hesitatingly left the room, Mrs Campbell turned her face
to the wall, and prayed to God, to guard the motherless child; to guard
the toilers on the sea; and then she thought of her girlhood, of her
bright, strong, healthy days; and then of her marriage in the ominous
Scotch mists, of the sojourning at Malta, of the journeyings to and
fro; and chiefly of her husband's love, and of her happy life; and from
the depths of her heart she thanked God for it all, and confessed that
it had indeed "been well."