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diff --git a/25478-h/25478-h.htm b/25478-h/25478-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb6ccf3 --- /dev/null +++ b/25478-h/25478-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3873 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Boy-Artist, by F.M. S. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 0em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Artist., by F.M. S. + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Boy Artist. + A Tale for the Young + +Author: F.M. S. + +Release Date: May 15, 2008 [EBook #25478] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY ARTIST. *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Emmy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was made using scans of public domain works in the +International Children's Digital Library.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/decoration.png" width="100" height="11" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> +<h1>THE BOY-ARTIST.</h1> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/decoration.png" width="100" height="11" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 324px;"> +<img src="images/illus_002.jpg" width="324" height="500" alt="THE PICTURE." title="THE PICTURE." /> +<span class="caption">THE PICTURE.</span> +</div> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Cover and Title Page"> +<tr><td align='left'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 257px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="257" height="400" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /> +</div></td><td align='left'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 303px;"> +<img src="images/illus_003.jpg" width="303" height="500" alt="Title Page" title="Title Page" /> +</div></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> +<div class='bbox'> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus_004.png" width="400" height="120" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" /> +</div> + +<h2>THE BOY-ARTIST.</h2> + +<h3>A Tale for the Young.</h3> + +<div class='center'><i><small>BY THE AUTHOR OF</small></i><br /> + +<i>"HOPE ON," "KING JACK OF HAYLANDS," ETC.</i><br /><br /><br /><br /> +———————————<br /> +"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up."<br /> +<span class="smcap">Psalm</span> xxvii. 10.<br /> +———————————<br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> + +<br /> +<big>LONDON:</big><br /> +T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;<br /> +<small>EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.</small><br /> +—————<br /> +1872</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> +<h2>Contents.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>THE BOY-ARTIST—</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'>THE PICTURE,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'>THE RESOLVE,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'>THE FEVER,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'>THE FRIEND,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'>THE INVITATION,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'>THE SURPRISE,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'>THE SUCCESS,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><br />TOWN DAISIES—</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'>A LONELY LIFE,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'>TRANSPLANTED DAISIES,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus_007a.png" width="500" height="133" alt="Cherubs blowing bubbles" title="Cherubs blowing bubbles" /> +</div> + +<h2>THE BOY-ARTIST.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE PICTURE.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 78px;"> +<img src="images/illus_007b_o.png" width="78" height="130" alt=""O" title=""O" /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'><br /><br />H, Madge, just stay as you are; +there—your head a little more +turned this way."</div> + +<p>"But, Raymond, I can't possibly +make the toast if I do."</p> + +<p>"Never mind the toast; I shan't be many +minutes," said the boy who was painting in +the window, while he mixed some colours in +an excited, eager manner.</p> + +<p>"The fire is very hot. Mayn't I move +just to one side?"</p> + +<p>"No; it is the way that the firelight is +falling on your hair and cheek that I want. +Please, Madge; five minutes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very well," and the patient little sister +dropped the toasting-fork, and folded her +hands in her lap, with the scorching blaze +playing on her forehead and cheek, and +sparkling in her deep brown eyes.</p> + +<p>The boy went on with rapid, bold strokes, +while a smile played over his compressed +lips as he glanced at Madge every few +moments.</p> + +<p>"The very thing I have been watching +for—that warm, delicious glow—that red +light slanting over her face;—glorious!" +and he shook back the hair from his forehead, +and worked on unconscious of how the +minutes flew by.</p> + +<p>"Raymond, it is very hot."</p> + +<p>"There—one moment more, please, +Madge."</p> + +<p>One minute—two—three, fled by, and +then Raymond threw down his brush and +came over to his sister's side.</p> + +<p>"Poor little Madge," and he laid his +hand coaxingly on her silky hair. "Perhaps +you have made my fortune."</p> + +<p>This was some small consolation for +having roasted her face, and she went to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +look at the picture. "I'm not as pretty +as that, Raymond."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 246px;"> +<img src="images/illus_009.png" width="246" height="400" alt=""FACES IN THE FIRE."" title=""FACES IN THE FIRE."" /> +<span class="caption">"FACES IN THE FIRE."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, artists may idealize a little; may +they not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. What is this to be called?"</p> + +<p>"Faces in the Fire."</p> + +<p>"Shall you sell it?"</p> + +<p>"I shall try."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 211px;"> +<img src="images/illus_011.png" width="211" height="300" alt="THE COTTAGE IN THE COUNTRY." title="THE COTTAGE IN THE COUNTRY." /> +<span class="caption">THE COTTAGE IN THE COUNTRY.</span> +</div> + +<p>Raymond Leicester had not a prepossessing +face; it was heavy, and to a casual observer, +stupid. He had dark hazel eyes, shaded by +an overhanging brow and rather sweeping +eyelashes; a straight nose, and compressed +lips, hiding a row of defective teeth; a high +massive forehead and light hair, which was +seldom smooth, but very straight. This he +had a habit of tossing back with a jerk when +he was excited; and sometimes the dull eyes +flashed with a very bright sparkle in them +when he caught an idea which pleased him,—for +Raymond was an artist, not by profession, +but because it was in his heart to +paint, and he could not help himself. He +was sixteen now, and Madge was twelve. +Madge was the only thing in the world that +he really cared for, except his pictures. +Their mother was dead, Madge could hardly +remember her; but Raymond always had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +an image before him of a tender, sorrowful +woman, who used to hold him in her arms,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +and whisper to him, while the hot tears +fell upon his baby cheeks,—"<i>You</i> will +comfort me, my little son. <i>You</i> will take +care of your mother and of baby Madge." +And he remembered the cottage in the +country where they had lived, the porch +where the rose-tree grew, the orchard and +the moss-grown well, the tall white lilies in +the garden that stood like fairies guarding +the house, and the pear-tree that was laden +with fruit.</p> + +<p>He remembered how his mother had sat +in that porch with him, reading stories to +him out of the Bible, but often lifting her +sad pale face and looking down the road as +if watching for some one.</p> + +<p>And then there came a dark, dreary night, +when the wind was howling mournfully +round the cottage and their mother lay +dying. She had called Raymond to her, +and had pressed her cold lips on his forehead, +telling him to take care of Madge; +and if his father ever came, to say that she +had loved him to the end, and she had +prayed God to bless him and to take care of +her children. Then she had died, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +neighbours told Raymond that he was +motherless.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 296px;"> +<img src="images/illus_013.png" width="296" height="400" alt="THE DYING MOTHER." title="THE DYING MOTHER." /> +<span class="caption">THE DYING MOTHER.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>He recollected how the sun shone brightly +on the day that she was buried, and that he +and Madge stood by the grave crying, when +she was put down in the cold earth; and +that a man rode up to the paling of the +quiet green churchyard, and threw the reins +over his horse's neck, and came with hurried +footsteps to the grave just as the last sod +was thrown upon the coffin; and how this +man had sobbed and cried, and had caught +them in his arms, and said, "My poor little +motherless ones," and had kissed them and +cried again so piteously and wildly, that the +clergyman had stopped in the service and +had tried to comfort him. And when the +funeral was over, and the neighbours were +taking the little ones home, how the man +had held them tightly and said, "No; mine +now, never to leave me again. I am their +father. Margaret, I will try to make up to +them what I withheld from you; is it too +late?"</p> + +<p>This was the father whom their mother +had spoken of with her dying breath; but +who had come too late to implore her forgiveness +for having left her in want, while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +he squandered his money upon his own +pleasure. But now, in the impulse of grief +and remorse, he had determined to act differently, +and returned to London with his +children.</p> + +<p>Here they had lived ever since. Their +father had returned to his old gay life, and +left the children very much to take care of +themselves. Sometimes carelessly kind to +them, more often harsh and impatient, Mr. +Leicester supposed that he fulfilled the vow +which he had made about her children, +beside his wife's grave.</p> + +<p>Raymond and Madge had no very definite +idea as to what their father did with his +time. From time to time they changed +their lodgings, always coming to some +quieter ones, and now they had got to the +highest flight of a tall house in a very +shady street. Their father was not at home +very often, but they did not mind this much, +and were very happy together.</p> + +<p>Raymond made a little money by drawing +pictures for a cheap periodical, and with +this he bought materials for his darling +pursuit. Madge watched him and gloried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +in him, and dusted the rooms, and laid the +table for meals, and mended his clothes, and +thought hopefully of the time when Raymond +should be a famous painter, and she +should leave the dingy London lodging and +live in the fresh breezy country which her +brother told her about.</p> + +<p>Madge was not beautiful; her little face +was sallow and pinched: but she had two +pretty things about her. One was her hair, +which was of a rich warm brown colour, +with a dash of chestnut in it, and when unbound +it fell in ripples nearly to her feet; +the other was her eyes—large, lustrous, +brown eyes—with an intense earnestness in +them, seldom to be seen in one so young. +These eyes appeared in every one of Raymond's +pictures, for they haunted him.</p> + +<p>"Now, Raymond, come to breakfast," +Madge said when she had finished making +the toast.</p> + +<p>He did not appear to hear her, for he +went to a little distance and surveyed his +picture with his head on one side.</p> + +<p>Madge poured out the tea, and then came +over to him, laid her hand on his which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +held the brush, and said entreatingly, +"Come."</p> + +<p>"Well, it is too bad," he said laughingly, +"first to make you roast your face, and then +to keep you from eating your breakfast;" +and he laid down his brush and pallette and +came to the table; but he ate hurriedly and +soon returned to his work.</p> + +<p>Madge put away the things and brought +her sewing to the window, where she sat all +the morning watching Raymond's busy +fingers. Then she went out to the colour-shop +at the end of the next street, to buy +something which her brother wanted, and to +see if the picture he had left there was sold.</p> + +<p>Alas! it was still in the window along +with several others; a few butchers' boys, +working-men, and ragged little girls were +eagerly pressing their faces against the glass +looking at the pictures, but none of them +were likely to be purchasers. Raymond's +picture was called "The Welcome." There +was a cottage room, and an open door, +through which a working man was coming +in, while a little girl sprang to meet him. +The girl had Madge's eyes; but no one in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +that wondering throng knew that. They +were saying how well the workman's dress +and the tools which he carried were done.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 202px;"> +<img src="images/illus_018.png" width="202" height="280" alt="BUSY FINGERS." title="BUSY FINGERS." /> +<span class="caption">BUSY FINGERS.</span> +</div> + +<p>Madge went into the shop. Mr. Jeffery +was talking to a gentleman who stood by +the counter; but he turned to serve her as +soon as she appeared.</p> + +<p>She laid down her money and took her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +tiny parcel, then said falteringly, while the +colour came into her pale cheeks, "Please, +sir, is my brother's picture sold yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, nor likely to be," said Mr. +Jeffery, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Poor Raymond," thought Madge, and +as she turned away, she raised her hand to +brush away the tears which filled her eyes.</p> + +<p>The gentleman who had been standing, +now stepped forward and opened the door +for the little girl to go out.</p> + +<p>She raised her face timidly and said, +"Thank you, sir," in a soft, low tone, then +hurried off without trusting herself again to +look in at the shop window.</p> + +<p>"Who's that, Jeffery?"</p> + +<p>"A little girl who comes here very often, +sir. Her brother paints a little, and he's +left a picture here to try and get it sold."</p> + +<p>"I should like to have her hair and eyes +for a model," the artist said. "Jeffery, if +that child comes again send her up to me; +she would exactly do for my Ruth."</p> + +<p>But it was many and many a long day +before little Madge came to that shop +again.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus_020a.png" width="400" height="94" alt="Cherub and a book" title="Cherub and a book" /> +</div> + +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE RESOLVE.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 74px;"> +<img src="images/illus_020b_t.png" width="74" height="130" alt="T" title="T" /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'><br /><br />HAT same evening, when it was too +dark for Raymond to paint, he and +Madge sat by the fire talking.</div> + +<p>"It's not much good trying any +more; is it, Raymond?"</p> + +<p>"Trying what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, your painting, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Madge, I must paint; it's +my life to paint."</p> + +<p>Madge gave a long deep sigh, too long +and deep for a child of her age.</p> + +<p>"Raymond, what's <i>my</i> life?"</p> + +<p>"Woman's life is to glory in man," said +Raymond grandly.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Madge, with an unbelieving +laugh, "there's more than that in it; there's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +a great deal of work, too, I can assure +you."</p> + +<p>"I daresay," Raymond answered carelessly; +"but, Madge, you must never talk +of my giving up painting, because I should +die if I did."</p> + +<p>"Should you? O Raymond, don't."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't until I have done something +great—something to make you proud of me—something +which shall make my name to +be remembered;" and the boy's eyes flashed +now, but it was too dark for any one to +see it.</p> + +<p>Madge liked to hear him say these kind +of things, though she was not an artist herself, +only a patient, loving little girl, who +thought there was no one in the world like +Raymond, and she put out her hand and +laid it softly upon his, as if she would lay +her claim to that by which his fame was to +come.</p> + +<p>They sat in silence for some time—Raymond +looking into the fire, and thinking of +his future; Madge looking at him, and wondering +if she should ever see him as famous +as she felt sure he ought to be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>The door was opened suddenly, and their +father came in. Even with streaks of gray +in his hair, and deep lines upon his face, Mr. +Leicester was handsome; and he had a gay, +dashing air, that heightened the charm of his +appearance. He carelessly kissed Madge, +and laid his hand on Raymond's shoulder, +then sat down by the fire.</p> + +<p>"It's cold to-night, children."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father; shall I get tea?"</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, sweet Madge. I must be +off soon; I have an engagement. I only +looked in to see how you were getting on."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Raymond gruffly.</p> + +<p>"Oh! that's right; I'm glad to hear it."</p> + +<p>There was a long pause, then Mr. Leicester +said abruptly, "Raymond, lad, I've found +some work for you at last."</p> + +<p>Raymond started. He had long ago +found work for himself, and did not want +any other.</p> + +<p>"Stephens and Johnson will shortly have +a vacancy, and then you can go to them as +soon as you like."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that they want a shop-boy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>Raymond stood up proudly. "I'm a +gentleman, father."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, never mind that. We +know all that; but I don't want heroics. +You must either work or starve."</p> + +<p>"I'm working."</p> + +<p>"Pooh, pooh! A little desultory dabbling +in painting; let me tell you, Master +Raymond, that is not my idea of work."</p> + +<p>"But, father, I must paint; I could not +live if I did not."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense; that is all the ridiculous +ideas that you get up here. When you are +shaken out in the world you will lose them."</p> + +<p>Raymond's hands were raised to his face, +and he was shivering with excitement. +Madge came to her father's side, and put +one hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Father, Raymond is a painter. If you +were to send him to a shop, he would be a +painter still. You cannot crush out what is +bound up in his heart. Is it not better for +him to rise to fame by painting? Some day +he will be your glory and mine."</p> + +<p>Mr. Leicester shook her hand off.</p> + +<p>"You don't know what you are talking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +about. Little girls should hold their tongues, +and learn to be silent."</p> + +<p>Madge shrank back immediately, and her +father went on fiercely. "I'll tell you what +it is, children; I'm off to-night to the Continent, +and that's all the cash I can leave +you," and he produced three sovereigns. "I +can't find bread enough for all of us. Raymond +<i>must</i> work. I shall be gone for a +month. The place will not be ready for +him before that. When I return he must +go immediately."</p> + +<p>Madge breathed more freely—there was +a month's reprieve, and she stretched out +her hand to Raymond. He clutched it, +and held it in a vice-like grasp.</p> + +<p>"Father," he said at last, and his voice +was low and hoarse, "I want to ask you +something."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"You are not coming back for a month. +If during that time I can sell one of my +pictures, and can hand you over a reasonable +sum of money, may I go on painting?"</p> + +<p>His father thought for a moment, then +laughed. "Yes, safe enough. Perhaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +you'll know what it is to be hungry before +the month's out, and will be glad enough to +leave off your dabbling."</p> + +<p>Then he stood up—patted Madge's head—went +to the door, and came back again as +if seized with a new impulse—shook hands +with Raymond, and kissed his little daughter's +forehead. "Good-bye, children; take +care of yourselves," and he went away. +Then Madge came to Raymond's side, and +he laid his head upon her shoulder with a +low piteous cry.</p> + +<p>"Hush, darling, hush," she whispered. +"It will all come right, don't fear. Let us +trust God; he has given you this talent for +painting, and he will teach you how to use +it. There's a whole month, and who knows +what may happen in that time! You may +become famous." She went on earnestly; +but he took no notice—only pressed his +hands tighter and closer over his throbbing +forehead.</p> + +<p>"Raymond, I know you will be an artist—a +great one—some day," whispered Madge.</p> + +<p>"Never, never, if I am to be ground down +in a shop," he groaned.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 280px;"> +<img src="images/illus_026.png" width="280" height="400" alt="THE LITTLE COMFORTER." title="THE LITTLE COMFORTER." /> +<span class="caption">THE LITTLE COMFORTER.</span> +</div> + +<p>"You will, you will," she answered, throwing +her arm round his neck. "If you keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +up a brave, strong heart, and are not discouraged. +Nobody can do anything if they lose +heart."</p> + +<p>"But to be always, always working, and +to have no success. O Madge, it is so hard +and bitter!"</p> + +<p>"No success! Why, Raymond, if you'd +only heard how the errand-boys praised the +way you had done the workman's basket +of tools in the <i>Welcome</i>. It was a success +in itself."</p> + +<p>In spite of himself Raymond laughed, +and Madge was satisfied. She went on +brightly. "Some day I shall be so proud +to be the sister of Mr. Raymond Leicester, +the great painter, whose picture will be one +of the gems in the Royal Academy some +year or other; and we shall glory in you."</p> + +<p>"Not he—never; he would <i>never</i> care."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he would—he would; and if he +didn't, you would be mine—all mine," she +added softly, as she laid her hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>Raymond looked up suddenly. "Madge, +you are a witch, I think. I wonder what +those men do who have no sisters—poor +fellows;" and then he kissed her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a glad light in Madge's eyes +then. He so seldom did this, except for +good-night and good-morning, that she knew +what it meant. She was very silent for a +few minutes, then sprang up, exclaiming, +"Now we must have tea, and then you +have your etching to do, and I am going to +pay up the rent, and then I'll read to you, +and do my sums."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/illus_028.png" width="150" height="129" alt="Flowers" title="Flowers" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus_029a.png" width="400" height="95" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" /> +</div> + +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE FEVER.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 77px;"> +<img src="images/illus_029b_a.png" width="77" height="140" alt="A" title="A" /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'><br /><br />ND Raymond did work. Madge +watched him with hopeful pride, +and seldom stirred from his side. +Their small store of money was +nearly gone, and there seemed but +little likelihood of a fresh supply.</div> + +<p>Raymond's hopes were bound up in the +picture he was then engaged upon. If only +he could finish that, he felt sure that he +could sell it. There was a feverish light in +his eyes, a burning flush upon his cheeks, +while he worked. He spoke seldom; but +Madge saw him raise his hand sometimes to +his forehead as if in pain. The picture was +nearly done, and Raymond looked up for a +minute one morning, and saw that the sun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +was shining brightly down on the sea of +roofs and chimney-pots which for the most +part constituted the view from their garret +window, and then he said to Madge, "Go +out, and get a breath of fresh air; it is stifling +work for you to be always up here."</p> + +<p>"Shan't you want me to mix your colours, +Raymond?"</p> + +<p>"No; go. I should rather you went."</p> + +<p>She put on her bonnet, and then stood +for one moment looking at his work. "I +wish you would come with me; it would do +you good, and rest you."</p> + +<p>Raymond gave a wearying sigh. "No +rest for me yet, Madge. I must toil on +until this is done. I can't rest when I go +to bed. I am thinking all night when will +the morning come, that I may be at work +again. No, no; there is no rest until this +is sold. Do you know that in a day or two +we shall be penniless and starving?"</p> + +<p>Madge looked up at him with a smile. +"No, Raymond, we shan't be left to starve; +don't fear."</p> + +<p>Raymond looked doubtful, and went on +with his work, and Madge went out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>She felt very lonely and sad as she wandered +through the crowded, busy streets, and +gazed into the faces of the passers-by, all +were so completely wrapped up in their own +concerns. None knew her history; none +would care to know it. What did it matter +to any one of that moving throng if she and +Raymond died?</p> + +<p>Almost unconsciously she bent her steps +in the direction of the colour-shop. One +hurried glance she cast at the window, +and then turned away with a sickening +heart.</p> + +<p>Raymond's picture was still there.</p> + +<p>She went home, and ascended the long +flight of stairs with a slow, hesitating step. +For a moment she paused at the door of +their own room; she heard a groan within, +and hastily went in. Her first glance was +directed to the easel in the window; but +Raymond was not there. Another look +discovered him lying on the floor with his +head pressed against the ground.</p> + +<p>"Raymond, Raymond!" she cried as she +threw herself down by him. "Dear Raymond, +what is the matter?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 193px;"> +<img src="images/illus_032.png" width="193" height="300" alt="THE COLOUR-SHOP WINDOW." title="THE COLOUR-SHOP WINDOW." /> +<span class="caption">THE COLOUR-SHOP WINDOW.</span> +</div> + +<p>"O Madge, my head, my head! I could +not bear it any longer."</p> + +<p>He raised it for a moment, and Madge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +caught a sight of his fevered cheeks and +heavy tired eyes. She thought for an instant +what was best to be done, then ran +down-stairs to call their landlady. Now, +Mrs. Smiley was in the midst of her cooking +operations, and as she bent over her large +saucepan, she did not like being interrupted +by the sudden appearance of one of her top +lodgers.</p> + +<p>"What do you want? Don't you see I'm +busy?" she said roughly, as she turned a very +red face round from the fire to Madge.</p> + +<p>But Madge, in her terror for Raymond, +gained courage. "If you please, ma'am, do +come and see Raymond; he is so ill, and I +don't know what to do."</p> + +<p>"And who's to take this saucepan off, I +should like to know, or baste the meat? Do +you think I'm to be at the beck and call of +top-flight lodgers, who only pay five shillings +a-week, and that not regular. I can +tell you then that you're in the wrong box, +young woman, so you'd best be off."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 215px;"> +<img src="images/illus_034.png" width="215" height="300" alt="AN UNGRACIOUS LANDLADY." title="AN UNGRACIOUS LANDLADY." /> +<span class="caption">AN UNGRACIOUS LANDLADY.</span> +</div> + +<p>Madge turned to go, but still stood irresolute, +and Mrs. Smiley, looking round to +enforce her injunction, caught a sight of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +wistful, terrified face. The little girl went +away as directed; but as soon as she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +gone, Mrs. Smiley opened the door of the +back-kitchen, and called out, "Here, you +Polly, come up here, and keep an eye on +this dinner. Now keep basting the meat +properly; for if it's burnt, I'll baste you +when I come back;" and then she followed +Madge up-stairs. She found her kneeling +beside Raymond, supporting his head upon +her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Raymond, so you don't find +yourself very well!"</p> + +<p>A groan was her only answer, and Madge +looked imploringly at her.</p> + +<p>"You'd best go to bed, sir, I'm thinking.—Miss +Madge, my dear, you're in for a bit +of nursing. I'm afeard it's a fever that's +on him."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smiley's character was changed. +She had children of her own, and there +were soft spots in her heart still, though +the outer coat, formed by her worldly business, +was hard and rough. She had known +what sickness was, and she was rather a +skilful nurse, so from that time whatever +spare minutes she had were devoted to Raymond.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Poor little Madge! The days that followed +were very sad ones. Her brother +grew worse and worse, and she sat by his +bedside listening to his wild ravings of +delirium, in vain endeavouring to soothe +him, or to allay his burning thirst.</p> + +<p>Their scanty supply of money was exhausted; +and many little comforts which +Raymond needed, his sister was unable to +procure for him. "I must do something; +this cannot go on," she thought; and then +an idea flashed into her mind, which she +longed to carry out. She went over to the +easel, and took down Raymond's picture. +It was very nearly finished. "I will go +and see if Mr. Jeffery will buy it," she said; +and covering it under her little cloak, she +set out.</p> + +<p>Very timidly she presented herself at the +counter, and produced her picture. Mr. +Jeffery looked at it. "This is not finished," +he remarked.</p> + +<p>"No, sir; Raymond was too ill to finish +it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot take it in this state," said the +picture-dealer. "It will never sell."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 295px;"> +<img src="images/illus_037.png" width="295" height="400" alt="NO HOPE." title="NO HOPE." /> +<span class="caption">NO HOPE.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Then you can do nothing for us?" asked +Madge sadly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nothing. Stay, though;" and he began +turning over the leaves of his memorandum-book. +"Yes, you are the child. Well, Mr. +Smith—Mr. Herbert Smith—the great +artist, wants to see you. Here, take this +direction and give it to him when you find +his house;" and Mr. Jeffery hastily wrote a +few lines upon a piece of paper, and handed +it to Madge.</p> + +<p>Mr. Herbert Smith, the great artist. +Yes! she had heard Raymond speak of his +pictures—she would go; there was a gleam +of hope before her; she would take Raymond's +picture to him; he could not fail to +discover how clever it was—Raymond could +only be appreciated by master minds, and +this was one of them. It was a dull wet +day, and the streets looked dark and dingy; +the rain was driving in her face, and her +heart was with Raymond in the garret, +where he was tossing in restless fever; but +the brave little maiden went on steadily, +until she reached Mr. Herbert Smith's +door.</p> + +<p>She rang at the bell, and asked to see the +artist. The servant, well accustomed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +receiving every variety in the way of visitors +to his master, models, &c., &c., ushered her +up a long stair into the studio.</p> + +<p>Why, there sat the gentleman who had once +looked so kindly at her in the picture-shop; +she had often wondered who he could be.</p> + +<p>"A little girl to see you, sir," said the +servant, and then withdrew. Mr. Smith +was reading his newspaper, seated in an +easy-chair, arrayed in dressing-gown and +slippers, with a cigar in his mouth, and a +cup of fragrant coffee by his side.</p> + +<p>He turned round impatiently, but when +he saw Madge, his expression changed to +one of easy good-humour.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Jeffery—please, sir, he told me to +come to you," said little Madge, while she +looked down on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I remember; and so you have +come to give me a sitting?"</p> + +<p>"A what, sir?"</p> + +<p>"A sitting, my child; to let me paint +your eyes and hair."</p> + +<p>"Please sir, I came to show you this; +Raymond's ill;" and she held out the +cherished picture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 209px;"> +<img src="images/illus_040.png" width="209" height="325" alt="THE GREAT ARTIST." title="THE GREAT ARTIST." /> +<span class="caption">THE GREAT ARTIST.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Ah, yes; lay it down. I'll look at it +presently; but, meanwhile, I must lose no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +time in transferring you to canvas. Now, +then, take your place, so; your head a little +more turned to the light." And in a few +minutes, with easy, rapid strokes, the artist +was progressing in his work.</p> + +<p>"And what is your name, my little girl?" +he asked presently.</p> + +<p>"Madge Leicester," she replied softly.</p> + +<p>"Your eyes have grown sadder than they +were when I last saw you, Madge!" They +were very sad then, for large tears were +gathering in them, and rolling down the +thin white cheeks.</p> + +<p>She raised her hand and dashed them +away.</p> + +<p>"What is it all about?" said Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>"O Raymond, Raymond!" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Is Raymond your brother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Have you a father and mother?"</p> + +<p>"My mother is dead, and my father is +away, and Raymond is ill."</p> + +<p>"Poor child, where do you live?"</p> + +<p>Madge told him.</p> + +<p>"And does no one care for you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, Raymond does."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I mean, does no one do anything +for you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Smiley is minding him while +I'm out!"</p> + +<p>"How did you come to leave him to-day?"</p> + +<p>A quick flush came to Madge's cheek; she +was ashamed to confess their poverty; but +after a moment she added, "I wanted to +sell Raymond's picture."</p> + +<p>"Does Raymond like painting?"</p> + +<p>Madge's face lit up with a sudden brightness. +"Yes, yes! he loves it—he delights +in it—he says it is his life."</p> + +<p>"Poor boy, he does not know what up-hill +work it is; he thinks it is mere fancy +play, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he does, sir."</p> + +<p>"Has he ever had teaching?"</p> + +<p>"Only a few lessons from an artist who +had the down-stair rooms in the last house +where we lodged."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith came over suddenly, and unfastened +Madge's hair; it fell in golden +ripples all over her neck. The light was +shining upon it, and the sunbeams danced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +about it, making it in some places to resemble—</p> + +<p> +"In gloss and hue, the chestnut, when the shell<br /> +Divides threefold to show the fruit within;"<br /> +</p> + +<p>and in others there were luxuriant masses +of rich deep brown, clustering in curls +about her shoulders. For a moment the +artist stood lost in admiration; then he +silently resumed his work. It was an enjoyment +to him, as Madge could see from +the pleasant smile that played around his +lips, and the kindly look in his eyes, when +he glanced at her; but the poor, little, +anxious sister was only longing for the time +to be over, that she might return to Raymond's +side; and when at last Mr. Smith +laid down his brushes and pallette, saying, +"I will not keep you longer to-day," she +sprang to her feet joyfully.</p> + +<p>"Will you come again soon, Madge?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, if I can!"</p> + +<p>"Well, this is for your first sitting;" and +he held her out half-a-crown. For a moment +she hesitated, then she thought of +Raymond, and the nourishment he so much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +needed, and she took it. "And about the +picture, sir?" she asked wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, about the picture," said Mr. +Smith, taking it up; but at this moment he +was interrupted; the servant announced a +visitor, and he had only time to add, "I +will tell you about the picture the next time +you come, little Madge; good-bye;" and +then she had to go away.</p> + +<p>Back through the dreary streets, to that +dreary home; back to that garret room, to +that lonely watching, to that brother who +lay so near the borders of the grave, though +Madge knew it not. How often we pass in +the crowded thoroughfare some sad suffering +hearts, hurrying back to scenes such as these; +it may be that they touch us in the crowd, +and yet we know nothing of the burden +which they carry; God help them! Let us +thank him if we have light hearts ourselves; +and let us remember that each load that we +lighten leaves one less sad face and heavy +heart in the world about us.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus_045a.png" width="400" height="97" alt="Cherubs dancing" title="Cherubs dancing" /> +</div> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE FRIEND.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 73px;"> +<img src="images/illus_045b_a.png" width="73" height="130" alt="A" title="A" /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'><br /><br /> WEEK passed, and Mr. Smith +saw nothing more of Madge. Raymond +had become worse, and she +never left him.</div> + +<p>It was Saturday evening, about +five o'clock, when Mrs. Smiley was +called up from the kitchen by hearing that +a gentleman wanted to speak to her. She +came up, smoothing down her apron with +her hands, which were not of the cleanest.</p> + +<p>"Do two children of the name of Leicester +live here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, surely; at least there were +two of 'em a couple of hours ago, but I +can't rightly say whether the lad's alive +yet."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What! is he so ill, then?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir, ill enough, I warrant."</p> + +<p>"I will go up to them."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir; I'm sure if you're a +friend that'll do something for them, I'm +right glad to see you, for they sorely need +one."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith, for it was he, followed Polly's +guidance to Raymond's room, then thanking +her, he knocked at the door himself, and +entered.</p> + +<p>Madge was leaning over the sick boy, +holding a glass of water to his lips; and as +she looked round, Mr. Smith thought he +had never seen a face so strangely and +sadly altered as hers. It had lost nearly +all its childishness—it looked so old, and +womanly, with a weight of care in it that +was pitiable to see; and yet, with all this, +it was so calm and still, so composed, +that any one would have imagined that +her one thought was how to nurse her +patient. And so it was. Madge felt that +a great deal depended upon her fortitude +and self-control. Had she lost this, she +could not have attended upon Raymond;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +and though she was only a weak little girl +in herself, God gave her the strength she +needed. She did not spend her time in idly +fretting, or in gloomy thoughts about the +future; she just did the duties that came in +her way, one by one, and left the rest trustfully +to God.</p> + +<p>One glance was sufficient to show Mr. +Smith how ill the boy was. The wildness +of the fever was past, and he had sunk into +a state of almost complete lethargy.</p> + +<p>"Madge," said the artist, "I came to see +why you had not come again to me."</p> + +<p>Madge only pointed to Raymond's sharpened +features resting on the pillow; it was +excuse enough.</p> + +<p>"He is very ill," said Mr. Smith. "I +never saw any one looking more ill."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Smiley says he is dying," said +Madge in a low tone of forced calm; and +she repeated the last words sadly to herself, +"dying, O Raymond!"</p> + +<p>"When was the doctor here?"</p> + +<p>"We have had no doctor, sir."</p> + +<p>"Why not? That has not been wise, +Madge."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 226px;"> +<img src="images/illus_048.png" width="226" height="300" alt="THE ARTIST'S VISIT." title="THE ARTIST'S VISIT." /> +<span class="caption">THE ARTIST'S VISIT.</span> +</div> + +<p>"We could not afford it, sir."</p> + +<p>"There was the parish doctor."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I knew nothing about him, sir; and I +had nobody to tell me."</p> + +<p>"Poor child, poor child!" and the artist +was feeling the boy's pulse. Raymond +opened his eyes, and seeing a man by his +side, said faintly, "I've failed, father—I'll go +to the shop—it's not done!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, my boy; we must not talk +now." And then Mr. Smith beckoned +Madge into the next room. She followed +him silently, and for a moment or two her +new friend stood looking into her pale, +troubled face. Then he laid his hand on +her head, and there were tears in his eyes +as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I have a little daughter at home, Madge, +who is about your age; and if she were in +trouble—;" suddenly his voice faltered, and +he added hurriedly, "may God grant +that my Lilian may never be left as you +are."</p> + +<p>Madge lifted her eyes to his face, then +clasping his hand, she said, "Oh, sir, save +Raymond; I will love you always, if you +will save him. Oh, do not let him die!"</p> + +<p>"Keep up your brave little heart; I will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +do my best. Madge, if your brother lives, +he will some day be a great artist."</p> + +<p>Again that glad, joyful light came into +Madge's eyes, which the artist had seen +there once before. "I know it! I know +it!" she cried. "Did you like the picture, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my child. I saw unmistakable +signs of genius in it. I am buying it myself, +little Madge; will you receive the +purchase-money?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; wait till Raymond can have +it himself. He must live!—he will, he +will!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, my child; there is One above who +only knows about that; he must do as seemeth +to him best. Now, Madge, go back to +him; I will go and get a friend of mine to +come and see him."</p> + +<p>Madge did as he bid her; and in about an +hour Mr. Smith returned with a doctor.</p> + +<p>He looked very grave when he had examined +his patient, and then beckoned Mr. +Smith away.</p> + +<p>"I have very little hope of him," he said +sorrowfully; "the prostration of strength is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +fearful; I fear he will never rally; but +he must have stimulants now, and plenty +of nourishment;—we must do what we +can."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Smith warmly; "and if +you save him, Morton, you will have saved +one who will be a great man some day. +That boy has an artist's soul within him; +he will rise to fame."</p> + +<p>"I should like to save him for the sake +of that little patient maiden who is watching +him. What a touching face the child has, +and how she seemed to be hanging on every +look of mine!"</p> + +<p>"Poor little Madge, she loves him better +than herself."</p> + +<p>For a few days, Raymond hung between +life and death; then Dr. Morton's face looked +even graver than before. Madge saw that +he had no hope.</p> + +<p>On Sunday evening, she was sitting beside +her brother, watching the fluttering +breath, which seemed every instant as if +it must cease altogether; when suddenly +Raymond opened his eyes. "Madge."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've been asleep a long time, and I'm so +tired."</p> + +<p>"You must try to sleep again, darling +Raymond."</p> + +<p>A bewildered look passed over the boy's +face, then he said eagerly, "Madge, am I +going to die?"</p> + +<p>She put her face close down to his, and +said gently, "We must not talk now, dear; +try to sleep again."</p> + +<p>He was silent for a few minutes, then the +words came thick and fast.</p> + +<p>"Madge, I've not been a good brother to +you; I meant to have been, but I have +thought and thought of nothing but myself. +I ought to have gone to the shop. I ought +not to have let you want. O Madge! if I +might but live, if I might but live!" and +then tears fell one by one down the thin, +pale cheeks, and dropped on Madge's hand.</p> + +<p>"Please, dear Raymond, lie quiet; the +doctor said you must be very quiet."</p> + +<p>"But, Madge, it doesn't signify; I'm +dying, I know I am, and I must speak to +you!" he said, raising his voice, and speaking +with all the energy of those who know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +that they are soon to be silent for evermore; +"what will you do? what will become of +you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't fear for me, dear brother," answered +Madge, who was crying bitterly.</p> + +<p>"No, you love and fear God, and he will +take care of you; I know he will! O Madge, +I wish I had loved him as you have; but +I've been a bad boy, and now it is too late, +too late;—if I might but live!" The words +were spoken in a low, vehement whisper, +and a smothered groan followed them.</p> + +<p>"Raymond, our dear Saviour loves you. +Think of him, do not think about yourself," +and Madge's face became calm as she spoke.</p> + +<p>A smile came over her brother's countenance, +he closed his eyes and feebly pressed +her hand. Then he lay very still and motionless. +Once only his lips moved. Madge +thought he said, "Mother!" Then all was +silent as the grave, except the ticking of the +clock in the next room. Madge seemed +counting every swing of the pendulum. +They seemed like the last grains of sand in +the hour-glass of her brother's life, and his +breath was getting shorter. At length she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +could hardly find out whether he breathed +or not. She thought of what the doctor +said to Mr. Smith: "If he does not rally, +there will probably be a short period of +consciousness before he dies, and then he +will go off quietly." She supposed that +period was over now, and Raymond would +never speak to her again,—Raymond, her +pride, her glory. He was slipping away +from her, and soon she should have no +brother. Poor little Madge! Years afterwards +she could recall that scene more +vividly than any other in her life—the look +of everything around her; the lazy flies +creeping up the window-pane, and one or +two which were buzzing about her head; the +glass standing on the chair by Raymond's +side, which she had held to his lips but a +few minutes before, and which she knew he +would never drink from again; the way in +which she had smoothed the bed-clothes and +moved his pillow; and that still, white face, +so inexpressibly dear to her, that rested +upon it. There was a step beside her, and +looking round she saw Mrs. Smiley. The +good woman started as she saw Raymond.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +Then drawing Madge away, she said tenderly, +"Poor lamb, come in here now;" and +she tried to induce her to leave the room.</p> + +<p>"No, no! I must stay," Madge said +vehemently, and she sprang to Raymond's +side. "Mrs. Smiley, he isn't dead."</p> + +<p>"Then he looks like it. Come away, +Miss Madge."</p> + +<p>"But he isn't. He breathes still."</p> + +<p>Yes, there was just a feeble pulsation, so +feeble that it was hardly discernible, but it +brought new hope to Madge's heart. She +moistened his lips with a stimulant, then +knelt beside him, with her eyes fixed upon +him in intense anxiety. The moments +seemed like hours. But at last there came +a little short sigh, and then the breathing +became more soft and regular. The lines of +the face were relaxed, and Raymond was +sleeping peacefully.</p> + +<p>"If he sleep, he will do well," were words +spoken long ago. And so it was.</p> + +<p>When the doctor came again, he pronounced +his patient better, and told Madge +that he might recover.</p> + +<p>That night, about twelve o'clock, as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +was sitting beside the bed, keeping watch, +Madge heard a low, weak voice saying her +name. She bent down her head, and +Raymond whispered, "Madge, I have had +such a happy, beautiful dream, about my +painting. Ask <span class="smcap">God</span> that I may live."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps your dream will come true, +darling, for the picture is sold," she answered +gladly. Then she feared that she had said +what was unwise, and that she had excited +him. But she was satisfied when she saw +the quiet smile of satisfaction that stole over +his features.</p> + +<p>"Now rest, dear Raymond," she added, +as she kissed him, "you will yet live to be +my glory."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/illus_056.png" width="150" height="65" alt="Flowers" title="Flowers" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus_057a.png" width="400" height="92" alt="Cherubs around a fire" title="Cherubs around a fire" /> +</div> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>THE INVITATION.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 81px;"> +<img src="images/illus_057b_w.png" width="81" height="135" alt="W" title="W" /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'><br /><br />HAT a pleasant sight it was to see +Madge's face, when Raymond was +able to sit up. It was still quiet +and calm, but there was a deep +gladness in it that was beautiful; +and the thoughtful care for her brother, the +way in which every wish or desire of his was +forestalled, showed plainly that her love had +rather been increased than diminished by +that long nursing. She made allowance for +all the fretfulness of convalescence, which is +so prevalent after severe illness—especially +in men or boys, who feel the depression of +extreme weakness peculiarly trying—and +was always patient and bright. One day +Raymond, after watching her for some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +minutes gliding about the room and making +things comfortable for him, said to her, +"Madge, which is the best life, yours or +mine?"</div> + +<p>"Mine at present; and yours is going to +be," she answered, with her own quiet smile.</p> + +<p>"I've begun to doubt that. Do you +know, I've nearly come to the conclusion +that I would change with you, and that your +unselfish life is more noble than all the fame +and glory I could heap together."</p> + +<p>Madge stopped in her work, and looking +earnestly at her brother, replied,—</p> + +<p>"If that fame and glory is the <i>only</i> object +of your life, Raymond, it is not what I +thought and hoped it was going to be."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked, half +laughing at her gravity.</p> + +<p>"I can't put it as plainly as I want to do; +but, Raymond, I mean that your painting +will not be only for your own glory, if you +use it rightly."</p> + +<p>Raymond was silent, and his face became +very thoughtful. "Madge," he said presently, +"I don't want that arrowroot. Come +over here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wait one moment, dear. I know my +duty as nurse better than that. If I leave +this too long it will get quite thin, and then +you will call it 'horrid stuff,' and not taste it."</p> + +<p>Raymond laughed. "You are getting +quite tyrannical, Madge. You take an unfair +advantage of my weakness."</p> + +<p>"I must make the most of my brief authority," +she answered merrily; and in another +minute she had brought the little tray to +his side. "Now what is it, Raymond?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Madge, I've been thinking a great +deal, and I've come to the conclusion that +it's right for me to go to the shop. I can't +rise to fame in painting without some teaching, +and I can't get that, and I must earn +money for you."</p> + +<p>"But, Raymond, that picture is sold. +You know Mr. Smith brought the money +the other day. Why should not others be +sold also?"</p> + +<p>"And what are you to do meantime, little +woman?"</p> + +<p>Madge was amused at the grave elder-brother +tone, and answered, "As I have +done before. But let us consult Mr. Smith."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very well; but he can't know both sides +of the question. Nobody but an artist could +understand what it is to me to give up +painting—not even you, Madge."</p> + +<p>Now Mr. Smith had charged Madge to +keep it a strict secret from Raymond that +he was an artist. He wished to watch him +quietly, for there was a little scheme of benevolence +in the good man's head, which he +wanted to carry out if possible. Many a +time had Madge found herself on the point +of telling Raymond about the sitting, and +Mr. Smith's studio, and the lovely pictures +about it; but she kept her counsel bravely, +and had her reward. Raymond often questioned +her as to how she had made acquaintance +with Mr. Smith, but she always told +him it was through Mr. Jeffery, and turned +the conversation; and by degrees his curiosity +abated, he became content to receive +him as an old friend, and learned to look +forward to his visits as one of his greatest +treats.</p> + +<p>But with this secret in her possession, it +was hardly to be wondered at that Madge +smiled when Raymond deplored Mr. Smith's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +probable want of sympathy in his favourite +pursuit; but she only said, "He must have +some taste for painting, or he would not +have bought your picture."</p> + +<p>"You little flatterer! he probably did +that because he had a fancy for you."</p> + +<p>At this moment Mrs. Smiley entered the +room. She was the bearer of a letter which +had just been left by the postman.</p> + +<p>It bore a foreign post-mark, and the children +knew that it was their father's hand-writing. +It contained but a few lines, +evidently written in haste.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Children</span>,—I have got an appointment abroad, +which will detain me for a long time,—for how long I cannot +say. I wish I could have you with me—but this is impossible. +I send you £5. It is all I can do at present. +Raymond must give up his dabbling, and set to work like a +man. I hope you will get on well. I shall see you some day.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +—Your affectionate father, <span class="smcap">Raymond Leicester.</span>"<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>And this was all! They had looked +forward to his coming home. They had +watched for him day by day. In Raymond's +heart there was a strange yearning +to see the face of his only living parent; +to know if he would be glad that he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +been restored, when he was so near death; +and these few hurried words were all! They +read them through several times. Then +Madge clasped her hands, and hid her face +with a low cry.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Madge, don't," said Raymond, +though his own voice was trembling with +emotion. "I cannot bear to see you like +that."</p> + +<p>"O Raymond, will he never come back?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; don't you see he says that he will, +some day. Meanwhile, we will do our best."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> will never leave me, Raymond?"</p> + +<p>"Never, if I <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'can can'">can</ins> help it," he said, laying +his long thin fingers on her hair.</p> + +<p>"Poor father! Raymond, I did want to +see him so much."</p> + +<p>"So did I."</p> + +<p>They did not speak much more. For +some time they only sat holding each other's +hands, and thinking mournfully of the future. +Everything seemed very dark and gloomy +that evening, both within and without. A +heavy rain was falling, and the sight of wet +roofs and chimney-pots gleaming in the twilight +is never very enlivening. Raymond at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +last gave a long, deep sigh, at the sound of +which Madge started up.</p> + +<p>"That won't do, Raymond. I'm forgetting +my duty as nurse, and it is very bad +for a patient to get vapourish! Oh, here's +Mr. Smith!"</p> + +<p>He came in, in his own pleasant, friendly +way, but his quick eye soon discovered that +something was wrong, for Madge's quiet +little face was troubled, and Raymond looked +tired and moody.</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith sat down, and began in a lively +tone,—"Well, Raymond, my boy, how have +things gone to-day? are you any stronger?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, sir," he answered mournfully.</p> + +<p>"And I don't expect you will be, while +you are up here. You want change of air +to set you up."</p> + +<p>"I must get well as soon as possible," he +said, with a very determined look.</p> + +<p>"You must not be in too great a hurry. +People want a great deal of patching up +after an illness like yours."</p> + +<p>"I must be at work!" said Raymond.</p> + +<p>"Yes, when you are well. What is the +cause of this extreme impatience? You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +were quite content yesterday to lie back in +your chair and let Madge nurse you and pet +you to her heart's content."</p> + +<p>Raymond answered by holding out his +father's letter. Mr. Smith read it silently. +He made no remark when he had finished +it, but handed it back to the boy.</p> + +<p>"And now, sir, what are we to do?"</p> + +<p>"Get well and strong, my dear boy, in +the first place."</p> + +<p>"But about the shop, sir? My father +said the place was ready, and I could take +it."</p> + +<p>"You are not fit for it at present."</p> + +<p>"At present!" Then Mr. Smith thought +he ought to go when he was well! The +thought was very bitter, and Raymond bent +his head in his hands, and tears came dropping +one by one through his fingers. They +came from his extreme weakness, and he +was very much ashamed of them, so much +ashamed that he did not look up until he +had banished them. Then Mr. Smith +spoke:—</p> + +<p>"Little Madge, do you think Raymond +is well enough to have a change?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is no place for him to go to, sir," +she answered, while there was a quick throb +of pain in her heart at the thought of being +separated from him.</p> + +<p>"I have a country-house in the Isle of +Wight. Will you both come and pay me +a visit there, and see my little daughter +Lilian?"</p> + +<p>Madge's face lit up instantly. "Raymond, +do you hear? The country—the +country—and the beautiful sea—and you +will get strong there!"</p> + +<p>"But I don't know how we could do it, +sir?" said Raymond doubtfully, but in a +tone of gladness which showed how much +he liked the proposition.</p> + +<p>"You must let me be your father for the +time, and I will see to it all," replied Mr. +Smith kindly. "Mrs. Nurse, don't you +think it would be the best thing possible +for your patient?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she answered gladly.</p> + +<p>"Then you must be ready by the end of +next week," said Mr. Smith; "and consider +that it is a settled thing. Lilian will be in +such delight."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus_066a.png" width="400" height="96" alt="Sledding" title="Sledding" /> +</div> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE SURPRISE.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 63px;"> +<img src="images/illus_066b_s.png" width="63" height="135" alt="S" title="S" /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'><br /><br />EAPOINT was beautifully situated +on a headland, which commanded +a view of the boundless sea on one +side, and on the other a panoramic +view of the fertile Isle of Wight. +And this was the summer home of the +artist's little daughter. Her governess, +Miss Mortimer, had charge of her, but her +father came backwards and forwards to see +her constantly; for Lilian was all that was +now left to him in this world to love except +his art, and the days when he came were the +brightest of his little girl's life. She knew +that he would take her <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original missing this word">on</ins> long rambling walks, +and let her clamber about amongst the rocks +and little bays and creeks in which she de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>lighted; +and that, when she was tired, there +was always a comfortable resting-place ready +for her in that father's arms; and loving, tender +words, which she never heard from any +one but him. In his little daughter the +artist found his ideal of childish beauty realized. +The exquisitely shaped oval face; +the large eyes of dark blue, through which +the loving little heart looked out at him, and +in which, though generally sparkling with +fun and merriment, there was sometimes a +dreamy intentness, as if they beheld a world +more beautiful than any which his art or imagination +created; the perfectly formed nose +and mouth; the arched forehead, shaded +with golden brown hair; the delicate complexion; +and the witching charm of the +graceful little figure, were a perpetual feast +to the artist-father. Miss Mortimer complained +bitterly that nothing would make +Lilian behave with the due propriety of a +young lady; but to her father there was a +winsomeness in her free, gay manner, that +made up for her wild spirits, which sometimes +carried her past the bounds which the +worthy governess laid down for her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></div> + +<p>It was one of those glorious evenings in +early summer, when all nature is bathed in +that soft golden light which precedes sunset, +and little Lilian was watching for her father's +arrival; for it was Friday, and he generally +came on that day to stay till Monday.</p> + +<p>The eager child had not long to wait; +she heard the well-known footstep on the +gravel, and she bounded out of the door.</p> + +<p>"Well, my Lilian."</p> + +<p>"Well, papa." And the soft arms were +thrown about his neck as the father stooped +to kiss his little daughter.</p> + +<p>"All right here, Fairy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, all right. And Miss Mortimer +has got so many good things about me to +tell you; and isn't it fine? Won't you take +me for a beautiful long walk, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling. Shall we go now? I +will just speak to Miss Mortimer, and then +we will set off; and I will ask them to defer +tea until we return."</p> + +<p>"Beautiful!" said Lilian. "I will go +and get my hat. Miss Mortimer is in the +school-room, papa."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 295px;"> +<img src="images/illus_069.png" width="295" height="400" alt="EAGER WATCHING." title="EAGER WATCHING." /> +<span class="caption">EAGER WATCHING.</span> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Smith walked across the grass, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +entered the school-room by a folding glass-door +that opened upon the lawn. Lilian +returned presently; her shady straw hat +fastened with blue ribbons, a little basket<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +on her arm, and her face glowing with pleasure +and excitement.</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Mortimer, you said you +would tell papa about my lessons to-day."</p> + +<p>The governess, a tall staid lady of about +fifty, whose face betokened that her mind +was full of grammars and dictionaries, smiled +a little, and answered, "I have been informing +your father of the marked improvement +which you have lately made in your +studies."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lily, I have heard all about it," +said Mr. Smith, looking down fondly into +the bright little face that was raised to his. +"And I have been telling Miss Mortimer of +a treat that I have in store for you."</p> + +<p>"What is it, papa?" she cried eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am not going to tell you, until we +get to your favourite seat among the rocks."</p> + +<p>"Then don't let us lose another minute, +papa," said Lilian, and they set off.</p> + +<p>Away over the breezy hill-side which +overhung the sea; away through the furze, +the gorse, and the large brake-ferns; away +until they had left the pretty villa far +behind them, and found themselves in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +small sheltered bay where Mr. Smith's boat, +the <i>White Lily</i>, was moored.</p> + +<p>"It is very calm, may we go out for a +little way, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," said the artist, as he unfastened +the padlock which moored the +boat. Then he placed Lilian in the stern, +and sprung in himself, taking the oars, and +pushing away from the strand.</p> + +<p>The setting sun shed a flood of glory over +the quiet bay, with its brilliantly coloured +rocks, and its shore covered with white +pebbles, and fell upon the little boat that +danced over the rippling sea, lingering lovingly +on the beautiful face of the artist's +child as she bent forward to claim the promised +secret.</p> + +<p>"Now, papa, what is the treat?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Lily, you know I have told you +about Raymond and Madge."</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa; and I was going to have +asked how Raymond was, and whether he +liked the fruit I sent him, only the thought +of the treat put it all out of my head."</p> + +<p>"He is much better, darling. And what +would you say if you were soon to see him?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, papa!"</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus_072.png" width="300" height="218" alt="EAGER WATCHING." title="EAGER WATCHING." /> +<span class="caption">A BEAUTIFUL SCENE.</span> +</div> + +<p>"I have asked Madge and him to come +here, that he may recover his strength; and +I have come on to make all preparations. +They will be here to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, joy, joy!" cried Lilian. "Mayn't +I have a whole holiday, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to-morrow you shall; and after that +Madge shall do her lessons with you."</p> + +<p>"And Raymond too, papa?"</p> + +<p>"No, darling. Raymond will do his lessons +with me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall you teach him to paint beautiful +pictures as you do, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I hope so," replied the artist, +smiling.</p> + +<p>Lilian drew a long-sigh of contentment.</p> + +<p>"I do wish it were to-morrow! Will you +take them out in the boat, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Raymond will not be well enough at +first; but by-and-by, I hope, we shall have +some grand excursions."</p> + +<p>"And that dear little Madge that you +have told me about; oh, papa, I shall love +her so much! Do you think she will love +me?"</p> + +<p>The fond father thought within himself +that it would not be very easy for her to +help doing so; but he only answered, "I +think she will, Lily."</p> + +<p>And thus they talked in the pleasant +evening light, until the red sun had dipped +down behind the hills on the further coast; +and then Mr. Smith moored the boat, and +the father and daughter walked home in the +red glow which the sun had left behind it.</p> + +<p>The rest of the evening passed away very +slowly to Lilian, she was looking forward so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +eagerly to the morrow; and it was not until +she had planned and replanned every kind +of pleasure that was likely to be given to her, +during the visit of her friends, and wondered +over and over again what they would be like +that sleep came over her; and before she +knew anything more, the much longed-for +morning had arrived.</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith had gone to meet the children +at their landing-place; and about two +o'clock Lilian heard the sound of the +carriage-wheels coming near. Then a fit +of shyness came over her; and she hung +back, so that it was not until she heard her +father's voice calling her that she went to +the door, just in time to see him helping out +of the carriage a tall, delicate-looking boy +of about sixteen, followed by a quiet-looking +little girl of twelve.</p> + +<p>"Here are your new friends, Lily; come +and speak to them," said Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>Then Lilian stepped forward, and shook +hands with Raymond, and kissed Madge. +Madge returned the kiss; but she seemed +intent on watching Raymond, as if she had +no other thought than to take care of him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I will take Raymond to his room, and +he had better lie down for a while," said +Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>The boy smiled faintly, but he was too +tired to speak; so his friend and Madge +helped him to the pretty room which had +been prepared for him, overlooking the +sea.</p> + +<p>He lay on the bed with his eyes fixed on +the water; but very soon, overcome with +the fatigue of the journey, he fell asleep; +and when, a little while after, Madge stole +softly into the room, she found him slumbering +peacefully. For an instant she bent +over him, and the dark earnest eyes were +filled with tears of thankfulness that he was +spared to her, and was likely to recover +health and strength in this beautiful home. +Then little Madge drew the curtain across +the window to exclude the light from his +eyes, and left the room as quietly as she had +entered it.</p> + +<p>She found Lilian waiting for her at the +foot of the stairs; and before long the two +children had become quite confidential, and +were rapidly making friends.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the evening Raymond was allowed to +come down-stairs, and to lie on the sofa in +the pretty drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Lilian came to his side with a handful of +bright-coloured geraniums and white roses. +"Papa says you like pretty things; and he +told me I might bring you these."</p> + +<p>Raymond took them with a bright smile. +They were not as beautiful as the child who +gave them, glowing as the colours were.</p> + +<p>"Are you better?" said Lilian.</p> + +<p>"Yes, much better, thank you; I shall +soon be quite well."</p> + +<p>"Do you like being here?"</p> + +<p>"Very much; and so does Madge," he +answered, laying his hand on hers as she +knelt beside him.</p> + +<p>"We are going to have great fun when +you are well again; and I am to have +shorter lessons; and Madge is going to do +lessons with me; and you will do lessons +with papa. He says so."</p> + +<p>Raymond lay very still, sometimes looking +out at the sea, sometimes at the "airy +fairy Lilian," by his side, sometimes at the +beautiful pictures around the room. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +wonder who painted that one!" he said, +pointing to a likeness of a lovely lady and +child.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 388px;"> +<img src="images/illus_077.png" width="388" height="400" alt="RAYMOND AND LILIAN." title="RAYMOND AND LILIAN." /> +<span class="caption">RAYMOND AND LILIAN.</span> +</div> + +<p>"It is mamma and me," said Lilian, a +little sadly; and then pointing to one that +hung near it, she said, "I like that picture +better than any."</p> + +<p>"Whose is it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is done by the great artist, Herbert +Smith," she answered, laughing.</p> + +<p>Raymond looked at it with eager delight; +and at this moment Lilian's father entered +the room.</p> + +<p>"Chatterbox, I hope you are not tiring +Raymond;" and he looked kindly and inquiringly +at the invalid.</p> + +<p>"Not the least, sir; I was thinking that +you are fortunate to possess so many of the +paintings of Herbert Smith. How beautiful +they are!" and the young artist's eye +kindled with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>His new friend smiled.</p> + +<p>"I am very fond of painting, Raymond."</p> + +<p>"You must be, sir, from the way you +have talked to me about it, and from your +having such beautiful pictures. Do you +paint yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Raymond," said Lilian, "don't +you know—;" but a warning look from her +father stopped her saying anything more. +She only looked over at Madge, with her +large blue eyes full of laughter.</p> + +<p>Then her father bent down over the boy, +and said, "I paint a great deal, Raymond."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad!" said Raymond +eagerly. "Then you will not think it +wrong of me to want to be an artist."</p> + +<p>"So far from thinking it wrong, Raymond, +I am going to help you in it. I am +going to get you taught."</p> + +<p>A bright flush came over Raymond's face +as he looked up for an explanation.</p> + +<p>"Who will teach me, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herbert Smith."</p> + +<p>Raymond started up. "Do you know +him, sir? Do you know Mr. Smith, the +greatest artist that is living? Is he a +relation of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Raymond, I am Herbert Smith," said +his friend kindly.</p> + +<p>A look of wondering doubt passed over +the boy's face, which quickly changed to one +of intense veneration, almost of reverence, +at feeling himself in the presence of this +master mind. Then, as the thought of all +his friend's former kindness came over him, +and of this great privilege before him, he +covered his face with his hands; and the +tears, which he vainly tried to conceal, fell +through his thin fingers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 271px;"> +<img src="images/illus_080.png" width="271" height="380" alt="THE SURPRISE." title="THE SURPRISE." /> +<span class="caption">THE SURPRISE.</span> +</div> + +<p>Madge bent down over him. "Raymond, +dear Raymond, look up. Do not be sad +now, it is all joy."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad, I cannot help it, Madge,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +said Raymond. "All my brightest dreams +coming true. I shall be an artist yet."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith turned away his head, his heart +deeply moved by the boy's delight; but +Lilian could not restrain her gladness.</p> + +<p>"And did you not know that papa was +the great Herbert Smith?" she asked. +"What fun! Did you know, Madge?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Madge, looking shyly into +Raymond's face.</p> + +<p>"O Madge, how <i>could</i> you let me go on +talking to Mr. Smith about my poor little +paintings without telling me."</p> + +<p>"He told me not to tell you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Smith; "I wanted, Raymond, +to watch you for a little while, before +you knew who I was. I wanted to see if +your whole heart was really devoted to +painting, and that you were likely to rise in +your profession, before I offered you assistance. +I am satisfied; and now shake hands: +if you are willing to endure a life of labour, +I think I can promise you success."</p> + +<p>"I am willing for anything," said Raymond. +And to Madge he whispered, "You +shall glory in me some day, little sister."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus_082a.png" width="400" height="105" alt="Playing music" title="Playing music" /> +</div> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE SUCCESS.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 73px;"> +<img src="images/illus_045b_a.png" width="73" height="130" alt="A" title="A" /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'><br /><br />ND the day came, after years of +patient labour.</div> + +<p>The morning sun shone in +brightly upon a room, in one of +those pleasant villas which abound +in the suburbs of London. A +party were assembled at breakfast—an old, +infirm man, and his son and daughter. The +old man was Mr. Leicester, and the other +two were Raymond and Madge. Their +father had come back to them, broken +down in health and spirits. Raymond met +him accidentally in the streets of London, +and brought him to the little home where +he and Madge lived, and they had cared for +him tenderly ever since.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>We last saw Raymond and Madge almost +as children; we find them now grown up. +Raymond's character has deepened. He is +a great artist, and a great man also—for, +added to the depth and strength of mind +which the mastery of one subject gives, +there were many noble traits in him—and +many men now feel themselves privileged +if they call Raymond Leicester their +friend.</p> + +<p>Madge has the same character, and nearly +the same face, as she had when a child. +She is still Raymond's fireside genius, and +a dutiful, tender daughter to her father.</p> + +<p>But we were speaking of that sunshiny +morning when they were at breakfast. A +newspaper lay by Raymond's side, and +when he had sipped his coffee he unfolded +it. "The Academy is open, Madge," he +said quickly; then ran his eye down the +long columns.</p> + +<p>Madge looked up eagerly, and saw the +deepening colour in his cheek as he read. +She took up the paper as he laid it down, +quickly found the place, and her heart +bounded as she read:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/illus_084.png" width="250" height="307" alt="THE NOTICE IN THE NEWSPAPER." title="THE NOTICE IN THE NEWSPAPER." /> +<span class="caption">THE NOTICE IN THE NEWSPAPER.</span> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"But, without doubt, the picture which attracts most +notice is the one which Mr. Raymond Leicester exhibits. +We feel, as we study it, that we are gazing on the work of a +great man, and a deservedly famous artist. He has not +belied the early promise of his youth; and that man must +have but little taste and good feeling who can move away, +after the contemplation of this masterpiece, without feeling +that he is the better for having seen it," &c.</p></div> + +<p>The tears blinded Madge, so that she could +read no more. But what more was there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +for her to read? The wish of her life was +fulfilled. Raymond was a great artist—the +world proclaimed him so—and he was her +brother, her pride, and her glory.</p> + +<p>"Little Madge," and Raymond's hand +rested with its caressing touch upon her +head, "I feel that I owe it all to you."</p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 228px;"> +<img src="images/illus_086.png" width="228" height="300" alt="IN THE ROYAL ACADEMY." title="IN THE ROYAL ACADEMY." /> +<span class="caption">IN THE ROYAL ACADEMY.</span> +</div> + +<p>"No, no," she answered, laying her hand +upon his. "No, not to me—to Mr. Smith."</p> + +<p>"Noble-hearted man!" said Raymond +warmly; and then his voice sunk so low +that only Madge could hear it. "I will go +and ask for Lilian to-day."</p> + +<p>"God speed you!" said Madge, smiling +through her tears; "and papa and I will go +and look at your picture in the Academy."</p> + +<p>Anybody who had been in the Royal +Academy that morning would have seen a +feeble old man leaning on the arm of his +daughter, lingering near the picture round +which every one thronged. Madge was +feasting on their praise of it, and repeating +chosen bits to her father, who was very +proud of his son now. It was a happy day +to Madge, as she looked at the picture, and +felt that Raymond was worthy of the praise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +that was bestowed upon it. She thanked +God in her heart that he had spared Raymond's +life, and allowed her to see this day.</p> + + +<p>Raymond gained Lilian for his wife, but +he is "Madge's glory" still.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus_087a.png" width="400" height="96" alt="Cherubs fishing" title="Cherubs fishing" /> +</div> +<h2>TOWN DAISIES.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>A LONELY LIFE.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 80px;"> +<img src="images/illus_087b_m.png" width="80" height="135" alt="M" title="M" /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'><br /><br />R. VALENTINE SHIPTON was +one of the wealthiest farmers in +Dilbury; and yet every one pitied +him. He did not ask them to do +so, but they could not help it, he +seemed so lonely and forlorn in the world. +Nobody loved him, unless it might be the +big cat which slept by his fireside; and even +she did not care very much about him, so +that she was left undisturbed in the possession +of her own corner. Every day Mr. +Shipton walked out and took a survey of +his premises, gave directions to his men, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +then returned to his large, old-fashioned, +dreary-looking parlour, and smoked his pipe +over the fire in the winter, or in his front +porch in summer. Every Sunday he took +down his best hat from its peg, and his large +red Prayer Book from the shelf, and walked +to the village church; but he never spoke +to any one either going or returning, and +even the little children shrunk away from +him as he passed them.</div> + +<p>No one ever came across the threshold of +Dilbury Farm, except the tenants to pay +their rent to him, or his men to receive their +wages; and Mr. Shipton never went away +except to the neighbouring fairs, and then +he always returned in the evening, looking +more moody than ever.</p> + +<p>Picture then the astonishment of the old +woman called Betty, who cooked his dinner, +when her master, one evening in December, +suddenly came into the kitchen, and taking +his pipe from his mouth, said,—"Betty, I'm +going to London to-morrow, and most likely +I shall be away for a fortnight!"</p> + +<p>"To London, master! why, that be many +miles off!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know it is, Betty; and mind you lock +up the house every evening at six o'clock, +and never allow any one across the door-step."</p> + +<p>Betty was too much astonished to make +any answer, she only smoothed down her +apron very vigorously, and gazed at her +master as if he were slightly demented. +Then a sudden idea occurred to her, and she +gasped out, "Then, master, you'll want your +best shirts put up; and I must see to it, and +get the ruffles done up quick."</p> + +<p>Farmer Shipton gave her no answer, but +turned round and left the room.</p> + +<p>"Sure it's some mistake," said old Betty +musingly, as she put her irons in the fire; +"he'll change again before to-morrow."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Shipton did not change; and +the next morning early his gig was at +the door, his old-fashioned portmanteau +was put into it, and presently the old man +himself got in and drove off as fast as the +old mare was disposed to go. This part of +the journey was all very well, and the +farmer felt in better spirits than usual; the +sky was bright and clear above him, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +the gig went on smoothly enough over the +well-made road to the station. But the +train was an invention which Mr. Shipton +utterly despised, and when he found himself +seated in the railway carriage, and in quicker +motion than he had ever experienced before, +he felt inclined to stop at the first station +and go back to Dilbury at a more reasonable +pace. However, he had a motive for +going to London, and so he resisted his inclination, +and was whirled on until he arrived +at the great metropolis. After a most +confusing search for his portmanteau, he +discovered it being whisked off by another +man; but having succeeded at last in obtaining +possession of it, and taking his place +in an omnibus, he was soon rattling away +over the paved streets in the direction of +Islington. The omnibus deposited him at +the corner of a street, and there he found +a boy who was willing to carry his luggage +to a small and retired row of houses which +was his destination.</p> + +<p>"Which house?" said the lad when they +had reached Crown Row. Farmer Shipton +stopped, drew his spectacles from out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +their hiding-place under his waistcoat, placed +them on his nose, and then felt in his pocket +for a leather pocket-book, which generally +lived there. When he had opened it, he +turned over the papers one by one—receipts +for money, farm accounts, bills, &c.—until he +came to two letters tied together. These +he drew out. One of them was written in +a trembling, almost illegible hand, and the +other had a deep black edge to it—it was to +this one he referred, and then folding it up +again and replacing them both in the pocket-book, +he turned to the boy and said,—</p> + +<p>"No. Five, boy—but stay, I want a +lodging first; I must leave my box somewhere +before I go out visiting."</p> + +<p>"No. Five—and here be lodgings to let," +said the boy with a grin.</p> + +<p>"The very thing," said the old farmer, +rubbing his hands; and then he added to +himself, "Now I can watch the state of +things quietly, without saying anything to +anybody; I'll see what these folks are made +of."</p> + +<p>He knocked at the door and it was +opened by a tidy little girl, whose face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +would have been pretty if the fresh air of +the country had brought the roses into it; +at least so Farmer Shipton thought, as she +dropped a courtesy to him.</p> + +<p>"Lodgings to let here?" he inquired in +his own gruff, surly tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Got a room that would do me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; I think so."</p> + +<p>"Mother at home, girl, or your missus?"</p> + +<p>"Mother is, sir; will you please to walk +inside?"</p> + +<p>"Put down the box, lad, and here's your +sixpence;—shameful charge to make; why, +in the part I come from, a bigger lad than +you would have got no more for a whole +day's work; but it's my belief this London +is made up of thieves and fools! Here's a +staircase dark as midnight! Why, they say +country folks come to town to be <i>enlightened</i>—but +it doesn't seem much like it! Thieves +and fools—thieves and fools. Thieves to +do the fools, and fools to be done by the +thieves!" Thus grumbling, he got up the +first flight of stairs, and paused at a door +which the little girl who guided him opened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +And here <i>we</i> must pause for a moment, just +to say that Farmer Shipton, for reasons +best known to himself, dropped his name +outside the door, and entered that room as +Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>A middle-aged woman, dressed in rather +rusty black, and wearing a widow's cap, +stood up as he appeared, and laid down +some very fine needlework, which she was +engaged upon. A girl about a year younger +than the little maiden who had opened the +door, was sitting on a low stool by her +mother's side, cutting out a paper-pattern; +and a boy of about nine years old was +stretched on the rag-mat fast asleep. The +room was scrupulously neat, but very poorly +furnished; and the old farmer looked round +keenly as he stood on the threshold. +"Hum!" he said to himself, "no extravagance +here, most certainly!" but aloud +he said, "I want a lodging; are there any +to be had?"</p> + +<p>"I have got a nice bedroom, sir; I'll +show you," said the widow; "and you can +have a small sitting-room down-stairs; but I +only own the upper flight of this house."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hum! one room would do!—can I +board with you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, our lodgers don't generally +do that, but—"</p> + +<p>"Can't take the room unless I do," he +interrupted; "I've not come to London to +squander <i>my</i> cash, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>There was a struggle in the widow's +mind; she sorely wanted money, and she +might not have another chance of letting +the room. This grumpy old man might +prove pleasanter on further acquaintance; +at <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'anyrate'">any rate</ins> he might not be so disagreeable +as many another; and with one glance at +her little sick boy upon the rug, the mother +made up her mind and decided to take her +lodger as a boarder.</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith was quite satisfied with his +room, and though he pretended to grumble +at the price asked for it, he really thought +it moderate; so he unpacked his portmanteau, +laid the shirts which Betty had done +up so speedily and well in a drawer, and +then sat down once more to read the letters +which he had consulted before knocking at +the door of No. 5. Shall we read them,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +too? it may, perhaps, give us some clue +to the old man's secret.</p> + +<p>The first, as we said before, was written +in a trembling hand, and hardly legible:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Father,</span>—If I had strength and health to do +it, I would come to you, and never leave off asking your +pardon until you had given it. Father, I am dying, and +these few words are the prayer of a dying man. It was +wrong to leave you, even though I didn't like the country, +and longed for the great city—it was wrong to leave you all +alone in your sorrow. If Val had lived he would have been +a better son to you than me—may God forgive me. You +will get this, father, when perhaps it is too late; but if you +have any pity, any love left for your boy, come to me once +more—<i>once more</i>, father! I am leaving my wife and four +children quite unprovided for; will you be a father to them? +I do not ask it for <i>my</i> sake, but for their helplessness—the +fatherless and the widow—"</p></div> + +<p>Here the trembling hand had failed, and +a blot of ink showed that the pen had fallen +from the writer's hand; it was taken up to +add,—</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"Come to me, dear father, and forgive your dying son.<br /> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">Alan Shipton.</span>"<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>The father had <i>not</i> gone, and the next +letter was from the widow:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir,</span>—My husband is dead—almost his last words +were, 'Will father come in time?'—he longed to see you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +once more. He suffered very much at the last, but he was +very happy, and I look forward to meeting him again in the +land where there is no more parting. I have moved to +smaller rooms with my children, at No. 5 Crown Row, +Islington, where I have taken the top flight in the house, +and hope to find a lodger to take the one room which we +shall not occupy. I shall be able to earn sufficient money, +I hope, by dressmaking to support myself and my three +youngest children—my eldest boy Alan has gone to sea. I +wish I could think that my dear husband had your entire +forgiveness.—I remain, sir, yours dutifully,</p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">Ellen Shipton.</span>"<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>The date of this letter was a year old, +and the farmer had written underneath it, +"Hypocrites! I know town folks better +than they think!"</p> + +<p>Why then was he reading it over? Why +was he in this house under the name of Mr. +Smith? Why had he after so many months +come to seek out these unknown relations? +It was because the old man's heart was +lonely—because underneath his gruff exterior +he had a kindly heart—because he +longed to have some one who would care for +him and comfort his old age. This was why +he had left his country home to come up to +the great city. He had determined to find +out his son's family, with the purpose of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +adopting one of the children, if he found +that the faults which he believed to be inherent +in all children of the town were +such as he could get rid of without much +trouble to himself; but he thought it would +be easier to watch them if they did not +know who he was; for, as he said to himself, +"they are quite cunning enough to +deceive me—town children always are." +And now having given you this little insight +into the old man's mind, let us return to the +widow's room and make acquaintance with +her and her children.</p> + +<p>"Mother," whispered Ellen, the little girl +who had opened the door to the stranger, +"is he really to be with us all day? How +horrid it will be!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, my dear; don't let us think of +that, let us think of the money we shall get, +and all the good it will do our little Maurice. +Poor child! how pale he looks there on the +rug!"</p> + +<p>"He looks like father did," said Janet, +the second daughter, who was cutting out +the pattern by her mother's side. A shudder +passed through Mrs. Shipton's frame, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +for one moment she raised her hand to her +face with an expression of pain.</p> + +<p>"Janet, don't say that," whispered Ellen. +"It hurts mother."</p> + +<p>Janet looked up. "Mother, dear, I didn't +mean it. I didn't mean so bad. Maurice +is better than he was, isn't he? He had +quite a colour this morning, and was not so +tired as he was yesterday; and by the time +Alan comes home, I expect he will be quite +well."</p> + +<p>Her mother put her work down for a +minute, and laid her hand upon Janet's fair +hair—</p> + +<p>"My good little girl, I didn't think you +meant to pain me, and I know how you love +your little brother. You both help me +beautifully in taking care of him, and if it's +God's will I think he will get quite well—but +he sadly wants care. If your dear +grandmother was alive, I'd send him into +the country to her for a little bit, to my old +home. I know <i>that</i> fresh air would soon +make him well again."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I'd like to see your home. The +house with the roses growing over it, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +the school where grandmother taught, and +the church, and the green fields, and the +hills, and the—"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Janet; here's the old gentleman."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith came in and sat down. First +he cleared his throat, then settled his stiff +cravat, crossed his legs, and looked round +on the little party.</p> + +<p>"Girls go to school, Mrs.—what's your +name?"</p> + +<p>"Shipton, sir, Mrs. Shipton. No, sir, my +little girls stop at home and help me."</p> + +<p>"Help, hum! not much help in them, +never is in town girls—think of nothing but +lark and fine dresses. Do they earn anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, not yet; they will by-and-by, +but I think they do quite enough now in +helping me."</p> + +<p>"Hum! got any more children, Mrs. +Shipton?"</p> + +<p>"One boy at sea, sir."</p> + +<p>"At sea!—ran away?"</p> + +<p>"No!" burst indignantly from Janet and +Ellen; "he went because he got a good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +chance; and he didn't like going, but he said +he wouldn't stop and burden mother."</p> + +<p>"He's a good son, sir—my boy Alan!" +said the mother proudly.</p> + +<p>"Alan!" said the old man, lingering on +the name; "why do you call him that?"</p> + +<p>"It was his father's name, sir," said the +widow, as she bent her head lower over her +work.</p> + +<p>Ellen noticed that the old gentleman bit +his lip and looked down on the ground, and +she thought he must be rather kind, because +he did not ask any more questions, and did +not look at her mother's sad face.</p> + +<p>At this moment Maurice roused himself +from his heavy sleep, and looked round in +stupid, slumbering wonder upon the stranger +who seemed to have made himself so much +at home.</p> + +<p>Janet ran to his side, and eagerly whispered +the news, while Maurice rubbed his +eyes and took a good look at the new-comer.</p> + +<p>"Hum! not much stuff in that little +chap," said Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>"He has been very ill," replied the mother, +looking anxiously at her youngest child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Doctor's bill to pay, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered hastily.</p> + +<p>"Make haste, boy, and get well—sick +boys are expensive things."</p> + +<p>"What a queer man," said little Maurice.</p> + +<p>"Come, Maury, come to mother's room, +and I'll put you neat," said Ellen kindly, as +she took his little thin hand and led him away.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Smith put on his spectacles and +drew the paper from his pocket, and spoke +no more until tea-time.</p> + +<p>After that meal was over, the mother +went out to deliver her parcel of work, and +the two little girls sat down with their +sewing.</p> + +<p>Suddenly their lodger spoke: "Do you +like stories, children?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh yes!" they answered eagerly, +while a look of pleasure came over Maurice's +pale, shy face.</p> + +<p>"What shall it be about?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know much about the country, +sir?" said Janet.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my girl, more than most folks."</p> + +<p>"Please, then, tell us about that," said +Ellen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old man looked satisfied, and began +a long description of the country delights +of his boyhood. The children listened attentively +to them; it was like some fairy +tale, or a story of enchanted ground.</p> + +<p>"Father used to tell us things like that," +said little Janet.</p> + +<p>"Did he?" said the old man quickly. +"Did your father love the country?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but he ran away and left it, because +he thought he would like the town +better," replied Ellen.</p> + +<p>"And did he?" asked the stranger, while +he looked keenly into the little girl's face.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered thoughtfully. "He +said it wasn't right of him, and that he had +often wished himself back again there;—but +I don't believe father ever did what was +wrong."</p> + +<p>"Hum!" Mr. Smith suddenly looked +away towards the fire and cleared his throat +violently; as he did so, his eyes rested on +little Maurice, who was sitting on his little +stool in the chimney-corner, with the firelight +falling on his face. The old man +started and muttered low, "Alan, my little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +lad!" Then gave an impatient pshaw! and +turned again to Ellen.</p> + +<p>"The river ran right through the fields, +and my brother used to bathe in it, and fish—ay, +many's the hour we've spent on its +banks with a rod and basket—many's the dish +we've brought back in pride to our mother."</p> + +<p>Suddenly Maurice got up and came to his +side. "Did you ever see a boy drowned?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith looked at the child in silent +amazement for a moment, but Maurice repeated +his question.</p> + +<p>"Did you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the old man in a tremulous +voice, while his hands shook as he clasped +them together.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Val was drowned," Maurice went +on, "quite drowned in the water—father +said so—he was drowned deep down under +the willow-trees."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Maury dear; it was very dreadful: +father used to sigh when he spoke of +Uncle Val, and Maurice is always thinking +about him; please, forgive him, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith did not answer, and at this +moment the mother came in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>The children received her with delight, +telling her, immediately upon her entrance, +that Mr. Smith came from the country, and +could tell beautiful stories. Mrs. Shipton +thanked him gratefully for being so kind to +her little ones, and began to feel more comfortable +about the expediency of having +admitted him into their family circle.</p> + +<p>It was soon time for the children to go +to bed; but before he left the room, little +Maurice knelt down beside his mother and +said his evening prayer. Mr. Smith watched +the child with curious attention as he prayed, +and once or twice with a sudden abruptness +he cleared his throat and crossed and uncrossed +his legs.</p> + +<p>Maurice never raised his head, but went +on with the simple words, "Bless dear +mother, and Nellie, and Janet; and take care +of Alan out on the sea this night, and bring +him safe home; and bless grandfather, and +take care of him now that he is an old man. +For Jesus Christ's sake. Amen."</p> + +<p>Why did the lodger start? Why did he +so hastily dash his hand across his eyes, +then stand up and go to his own room?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +When there, why did the old man let the +bitter scalding tears run down his cheeks? +why did those broken, mournful words come +from his lips,—</p> + +<p>"Alan! Alan! my son; would God I +had died for thee, Alan, my son!" He +paused, then went on more sorrowfully:—"Why, +why did you leave me, if you loved +me? Oh, my boy! why did you break my +heart, Alan?—Dead! dead! and I am alone +now; yet you taught <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original missing this word">your</ins> children to pray for +the lonely old man. Bless you, my boy—too +late—too late—my blessing would have +made you happy in life, but now it can do +nothing for you."</p> + +<p>Then the old man put his head outside +the door, and called to Ellen, who was passing, +to say that he was going to bed.</p> + +<p>But it was long before sleep came to him, +for he lay thinking of the old days, long +ago, when children had loved him, when +life had been sunny and warm,—why had it +grown so chill and cold of late? Ah, +Farmer Shipton, there is but one thing +which can make life full of warmth and +sunshine, and that is the love of God.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus_106a.png" width="400" height="94" alt="Rowing" title="Rowing" /> +</div> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>TRANSPLANTED DAISIES.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 73px;"> +<img src="images/illus_045b_a.png" width="73" height="130" alt="A" title="A" /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'><br /><br /> MONTH soon passed away, and +old Mr. Smith had become quite +one of the household. He was +very kind in his manner to the +children, though sometimes blunt +and abrupt, but he seemed constantly +to be watching their mother, with a +suspicion which she could not understand. +However, he was out a great deal, and she +did not find him at all in the way, and she +was glad the children had made friends +with him.</div> + +<p>"Mother, I like Mr. Smith; he's very +good to us; but isn't he a funny man?" +said Ellen one evening, and she looked up +from her work as she spoke.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think he's very kind to you, my dear, +and you are quite right to like him," replied +Mrs. Shipton slowly, for there was something +about her lodger which she could not +understand; and she was not quite sure +whether she liked him or not.</p> + +<p>"He goes out to see London, doesn't he, +mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has never been here before, +and there is plenty for a stranger to see."</p> + +<p>"But, mother."</p> + +<p>"Well, Ellen?"</p> + +<p>"I think he's very kind, and all that; +but I don't think he's happy: often and often +when I look up, I see him looking at me +with his eyes full of tears. Isn't it odd and +queer for a man to cry. Father never +cried."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Shipton did not answer; why should +the child know of all the bitter tears which +her father had shed?</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Mr. Smith has some trouble +that we do not know of, dear."</p> + +<p>"I think he has, mother; but wasn't it +kind of him to get that bottle of wine for +Maurice?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; poor little Maurice! Ellen, I +sometimes think—," and the mother's voice +trembled.</p> + +<p>"What, mother?"</p> + +<p>"I think he's going from me too;" and +the poor woman put down her work, and +bowed her head in her hands.</p> + +<p>Little Ellen came up close to her mother, +and slipping her arm round her neck, laid +her face close to hers, and whispered, +"Mother, mother, don't cry—God will take +care of Maurice; he won't let him die."</p> + +<p>"I think sometimes that he will, he is so +like poor father, and he seems so delicate +and weakly, and I have no means of getting +him the strengthening things he needs."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, he is better than he +was."</p> + +<p>"Not much, dear; he has never got over +that illness, and sometimes I think that he +will not live much longer; but I cannot let +him go—my boy—my youngest—my little +Maurice."</p> + +<p>"Mother, we will pray to God to make +him well; and you say God always hears +us when we pray."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, yes, he does; pray to him, +dear Nellie; we will all pray to him to spare +little Maurice."</p> + +<p>The mother and daughter had not perceived +that Mr. Smith had entered the +room, and was standing opposite to them.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, eh? what's the +matter?" said the old man, as Ellen +looked up, and he caught sight of the tears +on her cheeks. Mrs. Shipton got up quickly +and hurried out of the room; and Ellen +dried her eyes, and busied herself in putting +the work away.</p> + +<p>Just then Janet came in with Maurice, +and they eagerly claimed a story from Mr. +Smith. The old man looked earnestly at +them for a minute, and then said, "I don't +know any story to-night, little ones."</p> + +<p>"Then tell us something about the +country," said Maurice.</p> + +<p>"You should see a corn-field, children; +that's the sight," said Mr. Smith. "Oh, +how you'd like to see them binding up the +sheaves, and how quickly the sickles cut +down the ripe grain!"</p> + +<p>"But don't the men cut down beautiful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +flowers at the same time?" said Janet. +"Father used to tell us about the flowers."</p> + +<p>The old man was silent for a moment, +and then said quickly, "Flowers—ah! poor +children, you don't know what flowers are +here, in your smoky, dirty town."</p> + +<p>"What kind of flowers grow in the +country?" said Ellen.</p> + +<p>"Why, there's primroses, and violets, and +roses, and honeysuckle, and poppies, and +a hundred things."</p> + +<p>"Well, we've got flowers in the town +too," said Janet.</p> + +<p>"Indeed," said Mr. Smith incredulously. +"I haven't discovered them yet, except a +few things, stunted and withered, and all +boxed up in smoky gardens."</p> + +<p>Janet smiled to herself, and determined +that she would show the country stranger +the truth of her words.</p> + +<p>The next day was Sunday, and Mr. Smith +went to the nearest church with Ellen and +Janet, while Mrs. Shipton stayed at home +with Maurice.</p> + +<p>Janet did not return with the others, but +when they had been in a few minutes, her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +bounding footstep was heard on the stairs, +and she entered with a whole handful of +daisies, which she held out triumphantly to +Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>"There!" she cried, "there are flowers in +the town!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith laughed. "Where did these +come from, little one?"</p> + +<p>"Out of the churchyard, from off father's +grave," said Janet, dropping her voice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith took up the flowers and looked +at them as if he was trying to discover how +they were made, so intently were his eyes +bent upon them.</p> + +<p>"Mother says we are like daisies, sometimes," +said Janet merrily.</p> + +<p>"How?" asked the old man.</p> + +<p>The child coloured, and did not answer; +but Mrs. Shipton replied for her,—"Because +whenever I am gloomy and unhappy, these +children brighten me and cheer me by looking +up to the sun; they always find out a +sunny side to my troubles."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith laid his hand lightly on Janet's +head, and said, "I have learnt many things +since I came to London, but I did not know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +that I should find country flowers in this +large, wicked place."</p> + +<p>"We value them more because they are +not plenty, and because we have not many +other things," said Mrs. Shipton.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay—well, can town daisies be transplanted, +think you?"</p> + +<p>Ellen looked wonderingly at the old man, +for she saw that his eyes were fixed on Janet +with a meaning smile, but the little girl herself +seemed quite unconscious of it, and +answered quickly, "If you have plenty of +flowers in the country, you don't want +them."</p> + +<p>The strange lodger laughed, but it was a +rather sad laugh. "I do want them," he +answered; and then, after pausing for a +minute or two, he went on abruptly, "Mrs. +Shipton, I've been a month with you, +haven't I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must go home to-morrow; now, +I've got something to say to you. You're +not rich, and there's no nonsense about you +to pretend you are."</p> + +<p>The widow's colour was heightened, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +she had grown accustomed to her lodger's +abrupt manner of speaking, so she took no +notice of his remark, and he went on,—</p> + +<p>"I'm a lonely old man, and have neither +chick nor child to care for me. I didn't +believe anything pure and innocent could +be found in this place; but I've discovered +some daisies, and I want to dig up one and +take it back to my home."</p> + +<p>"I'll dig up one for you to-morrow," said +Janet eagerly; but Mrs. Shipton saw his +meaning, and she became very pale, and +looked anxiously at her child.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my dear," said the old man, +putting his arm round her. "Now, I want +you to come and be my own little girl, and +live with me in the country."</p> + +<p>"And go away from mother?" said +Janet, lifting her eyes to his face.</p> + +<p>"Yes; come and be mine, and perhaps I'd +bring you to see your mother sometimes."</p> + +<p>Janet looked away to her mother, and +saw that her eyes were full of tears; then +she sprang into her mother's arms and hid +her face on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I will promise to take all care of her,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +said the old man; "and the country would +do her all the good in the world."</p> + +<p>"I can't leave mother! no, no, no!" sobbed +little Janet.</p> + +<p>"I would adopt her for my own, and +provide for her liberally," said Mr. Smith. +"Come, Mrs. Shipton, you're a sensible +woman, you know how much better it would +be for your child."</p> + +<p>"I cannot give her up, sir," said the +mother anxiously; "she is too young to +leave me."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, may I have Ellen?"</p> + +<p>Ellen shrank to her mother's side. "No, +no!" she whispered. A disappointed look +crossed the old man's face. "Come, Mrs. +Shipton, you are slaving your life away for +these children, will you lose so good a chance +of providing for one of them?"</p> + +<p>"I'll go if I ought, mother, if it would be +better for you and the others," said Ellen +bravely; but she put her hands over her +face, that her mother might not see how +much those words cost her.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the widow firmly, as she +drew her children closely to her; "God has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +given me these children, and he will give +me the means of keeping them."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith cleared his throat violently.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," he muttered, "I suppose I +must live and die—lonely—lonely."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Shipton's eye wandered wistfully to +Maurice, who was looking on with eyes full +of wonder.</p> + +<p>"Sir, you are very, very kind," she said, +and then paused.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk of it—I can't get what I +want," said the old man.</p> + +<p>"I cannot bear giving up one of them," +said the widow; "but there's Maurice,—the +child is ill, I believe he will die here in the +town, but he might live in the country; will +you take him, sir?" and then, having said +thus much, Mrs. Shipton quite broke down, +and hid her face among Janet's curls.</p> + +<p>At this moment the conversation was +interrupted by a scream from Maurice, as +the door was opened, and a boy in a sailor's +dress stood amongst them.</p> + +<p>"Alan!"</p> + +<p>"My boy, my boy!" and Mrs. Shipton +held out her arms to him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 278px;"> +<img src="images/illus_116.png" width="278" height="380" alt="ALAN'S RETURN." title="ALAN'S RETURN." /> +<span class="caption">ALAN'S RETURN.</span> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Smith looked at him for a minute, +and then putting his hand to his head, he +hastily left the room. It seemed as if he +saw his own Alan again, in all the strength<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +and beauty of his boyhood. Before the lodger +returned to the sitting-room, Alan had been +told who he was, and what he wanted to do; +and though he thought for Maurice's sake +it was best, the way in which his arm was +twisted round his little brother's neck, told +how sore a trial it would be to part with him. +Maurice alone was unmoved; the thought of +the country seemed to have great attractions +for him, and Mr. Smith's stories and general +kindness had quite won his heart. Mr. +Smith lifted him on to his knee, but did not +speak a word, for he was looking intently +at Alan all the time.</p> + +<p>"Do you like being at sea, Alan?" asked +Janet.</p> + +<p>Alan shook his head, but said quickly, +"Janet, it doesn't matter what one likes; +it's what's best;" and a brave courageous +smile came upon the boy's handsome face.</p> + +<p>"Isn't he like his father?" whispered +Mrs. Shipton to Ellen.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he smiles just like him," said +Ellen.</p> + +<p>"Just like him," said Mr. Smith, in a low, +deep voice, that startled them all. Maurice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +was frightened, and slipped down off his +knee, and Ellen looked in her mother's face +in silent astonishment. "Alan, Alan, my +son!" and the old man rose up and came over +to the sailor-boy's side. Alan stood up, and +his grandfather put one hand on his shoulder, +passed his hand over his dark curly hair, and +then drawing him closely into his arms, said, +while the tears ran down his cheeks, "Alan, +be my son, instead of him that's gone."</p> + +<p>"Who is it, mother?" asked Maurice +fearfully.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Smith, or, as we may now call him +again by his rightful name, old Farmer +Shipton, answered, "I am the grandfather +whom you have been taught to pray for! +Ellen, my daughter, my own Alan's wife, +forgive me; I am your father now!"</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Shipton came to him, knelt +down beside him, and laying her hand in his, +said, "Alan always said you would come! +Father, have you forgiven him?"</p> + +<p>"Ay," said the old man; "may God forgive +me as freely. And now, daughter Ellen, you +must never leave me; and your children +must be mine, and I must have you all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +Alan will leave the sea and become my +eldest son, and there's room in the old house +for you all. Will you come, little daisy?" +and Janet smiled gladly as she answered, +"Yes, grandfather."</p> + +<p>"God be thanked for all he has taught +me in this room," said Farmer Shipton. +"Ellen, my little one, will you love me +too?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said Ellen shyly; "but why +did you want us to leave mother?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said the old man gravely. +"I came to London for the purpose of finding +out if there was any good in any of you; +and then I could not make up my mind to +telling you who I was, until I had watched +you and tried you to the utmost; but when +I saw Alan, I could wait no longer.—Alan, +will you be my son? I'm an old man, and +all alone."</p> + +<p>The sailor-boy went to his mother's side, +and looking into her tearful face fondly, he +said, "Mother, what do <i>you</i> say?"</p> + +<p>A smile crossed her lips as she looked at +him proudly, and answered, "Be as good a +son to your grandfather as you are to me,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +Alan, for that would have pleased your +father. Oh, if he could but know this!"</p> + +<p>Then Alan shook hands with his grandfather, +and said, "Will you teach me to be +a farmer, sir? We'll all like to live with +you very much."</p> + +<p>A few evenings after, the whole party +were comfortably established in the old +farmhouse at Dilbury, to Betty's great +delight and astonishment.</p> + +<p>The anxious mother soon had the pleasure +of seeing the colour brought back into the +cheeks of her little Maurice; and Janet and +Ellen made acquaintance with the delights +of country life. They often came home from +woodland rambles laden with wild-flowers, +which they exhibited with pride and delight; +but their grandfather always declared that +no flowers would ever appear so beautiful to +him as his own little Town Daisies!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 180px;"> +<img src="images/illus_120.png" width="180" height="71" alt="·FINIS·" title="·FINIS·" /> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Artist., by F.M. 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