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diff --git a/75600-0.txt b/75600-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3e91b60 --- /dev/null +++ b/75600-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3678 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75600 *** + +Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. + + +[Illustration: THE JUG SOLD.] + + + + THE + + OLD WORCESTER JUG; + + OR, + + JOHN GRIFFIN'S LITTLE MAID. + + + BY + + EGLANTON THORNE + + AUTHOR OF "IT'S ALL REAL TRUE," "AS MANY AS TOUCHED HIM." + + + [Illustration] + + + THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY + 56, PATERNOSTER ROW; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD; + AND 164, PICCADILLY. + + + + [Illustration] + + CONTENTS. + + [Illustration] + +CHAPTER. + + I. A GOOD BARGAIN + + II. A SUDDEN PARTING + + III. MAGGIE'S SECOND VISIT TO THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP + + IV. JOHN GRIFFIN MAKES A VOW + + V. MAUD PLATTEN AND LESLIE THORNTON + + VI. HOW JOHN GRIFFIN KEPT HIS VOW + + VII. CHRISTMAS DAY + + VIII. MAUD PLATTEN VISITS THE SHOP + + IX. THE JUG FINDS A PURCHASER + + X. MAGGIE GOES TO THE DOCTOR'S HOUSE + + XI. COLONEL PLATTEN RECEIVES A STRANGE REQUEST + + XII. MAGGIE IS CLAIMED + + XIII. OLD GRIFFIN FALLS ASLEEP + + + + THE + + OLD WORCESTER JUG + + [Illustration] + +CHAPTER I. + +A Good Bargain. + +MIDWAY in a long lane of houses, running east and west between Plymouth +and Stonehouse, stood, some years ago, a small whitewashed house with +bright green shutters and bright green door. It was hardly more than a +cottage in size. The houses opposite were far larger, but the smaller +dwelling had the advantage in respectability of appearance. It claimed +attention, too, by the announcement painted in large letters over the +door: JOHN GRIFFIN'S OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. + +The house stood a little back from the lane, and a narrow flagged path +led to the door. There was no shop frontage, but the window was filled +with specimens of almost every variety of china and glass ware, and +both shutters bore the words: + + JOHN GRIFFIN, + Dealer in British and Foreign China + ALL KINDS OF OLD CHINA BOUGHT, SOLD, OR GIVEN + IN EXCHANGE. + [Illustration] + _REPAIRS NEATLY EXECUTED_ + +Small as the shop was, it was perhaps the most important of all +in the lane. This fact, however, did not reflect great credit on +its owner, since most of the shops in that dingy thoroughfare were +pawnbrokers', or second-hand stores of one kind or another, with a +disproportionately large number of public-houses. But John Griffin's +shop had peculiarities of its own, and his circumstances were certainly +superior to those of his neighbours. + +Although the lane had a bad character, being the resort of the most +degraded characters of the two towns to which it belonged, so that few +persons of the gentler classes passed that way, unless drawn there by +business or charitable intent, it sometimes happened that a carriage +drove up to John Griffin's door; and on rare occasions ladies had +been seen to pass in and out the narrow doorway, drawing their skirts +closely round them as they stepped through with an air of fastidious +caution. + +To any one possessed by the china mania, "THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP" +offered many attractions. Packed into its limited space were varieties +of almost every china ware. The dealer prided himself on his thorough +knowledge of his business. He was also a connoisseur of the fragile and +costly articles, in which he did a not inconsiderable trade. No trouble +was too great for him to take, in order to increase his knowledge or +add to his store of curiosities. He would often walk a long distance +merely to look upon a rare specimen of antique china. + +One cold, damp December evening, Griffin was in his shop, examining +some cracked cups and saucers and a venerable teapot, which he had that +day purchased at a sale. The place dignified by the name of shop was +only the front room of the house. It was scarcely fourteen feet square; +but the quantity of goods it contained exceeded all expectation. Not +an inch of space was wasted. To enter required the utmost caution, so +narrow was the passage left between piles of most brittle ware, and +tables and chests loaded with all sorts of curiosities. + +The upper part of the walls to the edge of the low ceiling was +hung with plates and dishes. Some of these were brown and cracked, +colourless and common in appearance; others were prettily painted with +landscapes, flowers, or figures. Many of the ugliest and shabbiest +articles seemed to have gained places of high honour, showing that in +respect to valuable china, it is not wise to judge by looks. + +John Griffin did not deal exclusively in china. Standing against +the back wall, and well-laden with goods, were three carved oak +cabinets, richly-coloured by age; old pictures and quaintly wrought +mirrors leaned against them; clocks of ancient form stood on the +mantel-shelf; second-hand books lay in piles on the floor, and even a +few broken-ribbed umbrellas were stowed away behind the door. The shop +always seemed to be in the most hopeless muddle; but there was method +in the confusion, and Griffin himself had never any difficulty in +finding the article he wanted. + +The china-dealer was by no means the terrible personage his name might +suggest. He was a short, square-set man, about sixty years of age, +with a large head, well covered by curly grey hair, keen grey eyes, +made the keener by the round, thick-rimmed spectacles he wore, and the +earnest intent expression of a man whose aims in life have all set into +one narrow channel. He did not look unamiable this evening as he stood +in his shop talking to himself, as was his habit. He had just taken a +large, well-thumbed book from a drawer close at hand, and was comparing +a mark that his quick eyes had discovered at the bottom of the cup, +with one printed on the page before him. + +"I thought so," he said, in a tone of triumph; "this is real old +Dresden, and no mistake. Pity there should be that chip; but a little +china clay and a touch of the brush will soon set that right, and few +people will be the wiser. I didn't throw my money away when I bought +that." + +He gave a low chuckle of satisfaction at the thought. Just then he +became conscious of a faint, somewhat hesitating knock at the door. + +"Who's there?" asked Griffin; and as there was no response, he put down +the cup, went to the door and opened it. + +A woman stood in the narrow passage, with a little girl by her side. + +"Do you buy old china?" she inquired. + +"Yes, I buy it, ma'am, if it's worth buying," he replied, looking +wonderingly at her. + +She was a tall, slight woman, with pale, emaciated face, lit up by +glittering dark eyes. She wore a thin black shawl, and a widow's +bonnet, which was at the last degree of shabbiness. Evidently she was +very poor, yet Griffin instinctively addressed her as he was wont to +address his lady customers. Miserable as she looked, her pure refined +speech, and the grace of her manner at once told him that she was a +lady. Griffin's dealings with gentlefolks had taught him to distinguish +between a real lady and a "would-be-fine" one. + +"I have some china here, which I wish to dispose of," said the lady, +taking from her child a large bag, which she seemed to carry with +difficulty, though she was better able to support its weight than her +mother. + +"Very good, ma'am; please to walk inside, and I'll look at it," said +the dealer; "only be careful how you move, if you please, or your +skirts may do a mischief." + +The lady advanced a few steps into the room, whilst the child lingered +in the doorway, looking on with large dark eyes, preternaturally +anxious and shrewd. + +"This, I believe, is a Lowestoft bowl," said the widow, taking from +the bag a small bowl of pale blue china, embellished with flowers of a +darker blue. + +"They calls them Lowestoft, but they're really Oriental," said Griffin, +carelessly taking the bowl, and tapping it with his knuckles as if to +test its soundness. "This ain't real Lowestoft china. You can see it +in the book, if you like to look. I get a plenty of bowls like this: +they're no great rarity." + +"Then you would not be inclined to buy it," said the lady, laying her +trembling hand on the table for support. + +"I don't say I won't buy it," he returned, in his peculiar, nasal +drawl; "but I couldn't give you more than five shillings for it." + +"Only five shillings!" said the lady, heaving a deep sigh. + +"I couldn't do more, ma'am, it wouldn't pay me," he said; "but you've +some other things in your bag; let me see." + +The white, wasted hand drew out a plate of pretty blue and gold ware. + +"I have three others like this I could bring you, if you would care to +buy them," she said. + +Pretty though it was, the plate had clearly no attraction for the +dealer. His lips emitted a faint sound of contempt at the sight of it. + +"No, no, it wouldn't be worth my while to buy that," he said, +decidedly, "it's scarce ten year old, and quite a common sort of china. +I don't make no account of that. I'd give it to my wife to do what she +liked with." + +John Griffin could not more strongly depreciate a piece of china than +by saying that he would give it to his wife, since he was careful to +guard from her touch everything which he esteemed as valuable. + +The lady looked discouraged. With reluctance she drew from her bag the +last article it contained. + +"This I know to be old," she said; "and I have heard my—I have been +told that it is of considerable value." + +It was a curious old-fashioned jug. The dealer knew its worth better +than she did. Though he took it from her with an air of indifference, +its appearance excited his warmest interest. He examined the jug +carefully. + +It was of rare old Worcester ware, and quaintly moulded. Its colour was +pale yellow. The rim and handle were wreathed with roses and poppies; +whilst butterflies, bees, and beetles were painted below at equal +intervals. The spout was shaped to form the head of a man with long, +pointed beard, and remarkably red cheeks and lips. + +But the chief beauty of the jug was seen in the three exquisite little +pictures of country life which adorned its wider circumference. One +picture showed some cows in a meadow, and two pretty milkmaids, +coquettishly dressed, about to bear away the milk. One girl had her +bucket safely poised on her head, whilst her companion was in the act +of receiving her burden from the hands of an obliging young man, with +long, flowing locks. In the next picture, there was but one milkmaid, +who leaned idly against a tree, stool in hand, and empty pails beside +her, listening to the talk of a swain who stood near, dressed in the +most fanciful of rural costumes; whilst the cows lay on the grass, +lazily chewing the cud, and apparently content to await the milkmaid's +pleasure. The third picture represented the milkmaid engaged in milking +one of the reddest of cows, whilst her swain, resting beneath the tree, +charmed her ear with the notes of his flute. + +John Griffin did not notice all these details, however. He cast one +rapid glance at the pictures, and then began searching with eyes and +hands for crack or flaw. None was to be found. The jug was perfect, and +a mark well-known to Griffin proved it to be genuine old Worcester. But +the dealer was too clever at making bargains to declare unguardedly how +valuable he thought it. He meant to get possession of it; but it would +not do to show eagerness. + +"It is good of its kind," he said, when he had made his hasty +examination. "May I ask what price you've heard put upon it?" + +"Oh, I cannot tell," said the lady; "I never thought I should have to +sell the jug; for it is an old family possession, which I would not +willingly part with. But of course I want to get a good price for it. +It is very handsome, I think." + +"Oh, it's pretty enough in its way," said the dealer, in a tone of +depreciation. "But prettiness ain't everything. You see that jug there, +mum," pointing to a plain-looking specimen of no particular colour, and +with no beauty of form—"I daresay you wouldn't think it, for it's not +what you would call a pretty jug, but I expect to get nine guineas for +that jug." + +"Indeed!" said the lady, in a faint tone of surprise. "How is that?" + +"Plymouth, mum, real old Plymouth, marked so as any one can see,— I +don't know where I could find its equal," said the dealer, in a tone of +enthusiasm. + +"But what sort of jug is mine, and what would you give me for it?" +asked the widow, anxious to get her business over. + +"It's Worcester, mum; and as it's without a crack, I can give you +fifteen shillings for it." + +"Only fifteen shillings!" she said; in a tone of disappointment, for +his mention of the price of the other jug had made her think that he +could not offer her less than a pound for this, and she had hoped he +would say more. + +"Fifteen shillings, and five for the bowl; and if you like to bring me +the other plates I'll give you twenty-two shillings and sixpence for +the lot. I'll take them to oblige you, for it's not my custom to buy +such common china." + +"Thank you," said the widow, after a moment's hesitation; "I agree to +it." + +Griffin put his hand in his pocket, and drew out a leathern bag, from +which he extracted a sovereign and half-a-crown, and handed them to the +lady. + +"Shall I take all this now?" she said. "Will you pay for the plates +before you get them?" + +"It's no difference, mum," said the old dealer, "bring me the plates +whenever you like: I know what it is to deal with ladies." + +"You are very good," said the lady, faintly; "my little girl shall +bring them to you to-morrow morning. We are living close by." + +Till now Griffin had hardly been aware of the presence of the child, +who stood still as a little statue in the doorway; but at these words +he turned his gaze on her. He was conscious of a strange inward thrill +as he met the full deep glance of her large brown eyes, which looked +the larger for the tears that stood in them. + +They would come—those tears—in spite of her resolve to be a good girl +and not mind parting with the jug, which seemed like a part of her +little life, for she could not remember the time when she had not loved +to look at the pictures upon it, and hear her mother tell stories about +the pretty cows and prettier milkmaids. + +The child looked very different from the children Griffin was +accustomed to see playing in the lane. Her face was small and pretty, +though the sad, anxious look it now wore was not such, happily, as is +often seen on children's faces. Her dress was threadbare, but perfectly +clean and neat, and there was a delicacy and refinement in her bearing +only rendered the more striking by her shabby clothing. + +John Griffin noted all this as he looked upon her, and the child's +unusual demeanour made him uncomfortable, for it seemed to him that her +large dark eyes had power to read his thoughts, and she divined that he +was taking an unfair advantage of her mother's ignorance. Griffin had a +strange sense of being found out as he looked away from the child. + +Yet he had never before thought it wrong to drive as good a bargain as +he could. Since he began his trade it had been his endeavour to buy as +cheaply as possible, in order to sell again at the highest price. It +was absurd that this child's open, innocent gaze should make him feel +as if he had done a mean action. + +"Come, Maggie," said the child's mother, giving her the bag, "we must +be going." + +But as she turned to go, a violent fit of coughing seized the poor +woman. So severe was the attack, that she staggered back against the +wall of the passage, faint and panting for breath. + +"Oh, mamma," cried little Maggie, running to her, and taking her hand; +then turning to the dealer, she fixed on him a distressed, beseeching +glance. + +"I'll get you some water; it's dreadful, a cough like that," said old +Griffin, with an alacrity strange to him where china was not concerned. + +"No, thank you; I am better now," said the widow, slowly recovering +breath; "it's nothing, I'm used to it." + +"Poor mamma is so ill," said Maggie, addressing the old man with the +easy confidence of childhood; "and she has eaten nothing to-day." + +"Hush, Maggie!" interrupted her mother, in a sharp, quick tone. "Come +along. Good night." + +As she spoke she passed out into the cold, dark night. A delicate woman +should not have been abroad on such a night. The keen wind which blew +in at the open door made even old Griffin shiver. + +"Who ever was that coughing so?" asked his wife, looking out of the +inner room as he closed the door. + +"A poor lady that came to sell some china," he replied. + +"She must be very ill. I can't bear to hear a cough like that; it's +what I call a churchyard cough," remarked Mrs. Griffin. "Did you buy +any of the china?" + +"Yes, I did; and a nice bit I've got too," returned her husband. + +"What is it?" asked his wife, coming to the door of the shop. + +Mrs. Griffin felt little interest in old china save as a means of +making money. To her taste modern china seemed far preferable to most +of the old cracked ware which her husband took such pains to mend and +preserve. But the jug which Griffin was now holding up to view struck +her as being a nice purchase. + +"Why, that's a real pretty jug now!" she exclaimed. "What may you have +given for that?" + +"Fifteen shillings," he replied. + +"And what do you expect to sell it for?" + +"I hope I may make five guineas by it," he said. + +"You don't mean it! Come now, that is a good bargain," she exclaimed, +in a tone of delight; "and what about that bowl, did you buy that too?" + +"Oh, that isn't good for much," he said; "and I bought that plate too, +and three others that are to come. I don't know what made me buy them, +for they're poor stuff." + +"The plate is very pretty, I think," said Mrs. Griffin, examining it. +"When are the others coming?" + +"The child is to bring them to-morrow morning," said her husband, +rather absently. + +"What child? You surely haven't paid for them before you've got them?" +she said. + +"Yes, I have," he returned; "and you need not look as if you thought me +foolish. She was a real lady. It'll be all right, I know; but if not, I +sha'n't lose anything." + +"Well, I only hope you'll get the plates," said his wife, in a tone +expressive of strong doubt, as she retreated down the passage; "but +anyhow, as you say, you'll have made a good bargain." + +But John Griffin had ceased to feel pleased with his bargain, +although the more closely he examined the jug the more he admired +its perfections. As he turned it round in his hands he found himself +actually wishing he had given more for it. It was little Maggie's +influence which made him feel thus. He was haunted by the memory of +her mute, appealing glance of childish sorrow. Nor could he forget the +simple words she had uttered. Why had her mother eaten nothing that +day? Was it because she had not had the money to procure food till she +had sold her china? He felt uneasy at the thought that he had taken +advantage of—he would not say cheated—a poor lady reduced to such +straits. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER II. + +A Sudden Parting. + +LEAVING the old curiosity shop, the pale-faced widow and her child +passed slowly up the lane. Maggie held her mother's hand, not for her +own protection, but in order that she might guide the invalid's feeble +steps, which faltered from time to time as her strength threatened to +give way. + +"Was that a good old man, mamma?" she asked, as they went along. + +"I hope so, dear. I trust he has dealt fairly with me, for I can ill +afford to be cheated out of a single penny," said her mother, with a +weary sigh. + +"What will he do with the jug, mamma?" said Maggie. + +"He will sell it, I suppose," her mother replied. + +"And will he give you the money, mamma?" asked the child. + +The simple question brought a faint, sad smile to the widow's face, as +she answered, "Oh no, dear; he has given me all the money I shall get +for it." + +"Has he given you a lot of money, mamma?" asked Maggie. "Will you be +able to buy cakes and jam again?" + +Her mother shook her head. "Ah no, my poor child," she said, sadly. "I +cannot give you cakes and jam. If only we can get bread for the next +week or two, till I am strong again, we may be thankful. God grant I +may soon be fit for work!" + +Little Maggie looked disappointed. She had hoped that the happier days +she had known when she was younger were about to return, but she held +up her head, and said bravely: "I don't mind much, mamma. I can do +without jam; and God will take care of us, won't He, mamma?" + +"Bless you, my little comfort," said her mother, wondering if any other +child of eight would have borne want so well. "Yes, I must trust in +God. He has never failed me yet. He is far kinder than man. But oh, my +heart is very heavy to-night." + +They went on slowly till they came to a baker's shop, which they +entered, much to Maggie's satisfaction, for the talk about jam had made +her painfully conscious of a craving for food. The widow gave her child +one of the large brown rolls which lay on the counter, and then asked +for some milk. + +"We don't sell milk," said the woman in charge of the shop. Then, +touched by her customer's look of suffering, and the sad little face of +the child, she added, "But I have a little I can give you, if you like." + +Maggie was eyeing the roll with hungry eagerness; but ere she began to +eat it, she said, pleadingly, "You will have some, mamma, won't you?" + +"Yes, dear child," said her mother, "I will try to eat for your sake." +And she broke off a piece of the roll, and dipping it into the milk the +woman had brought, she put it to her lips. But she could only swallow a +few morsels. + +"You look very bad," said the shopwoman, meaning to be sympathetic; +"have you been ill long?" + +"Yes, a long time," said the widow, wearily; "but I am better, I am +stronger to-day." + +When Maggie had eaten the last crumb of her roll, and drained the cup +of milk, to her now an unwonted luxury, her mother paid for their +repast out of the money she had received from the china-dealer, and +rising from the chair on which she had sunk exhausted on entering +the shop, prepared to go on her way. The rest and refreshment seemed +to have revived her somewhat. She was able to walk more quickly and +steadily as they went out of the shop. + +"Are we going home now, mamma?" asked the child. + +"No, not yet," said her mother; and she walked on in the same direction +as before. + +They approached the end of the lane, where it widened out into a more +respectable street. The shops here were gaily lighted, especially those +where sweets and toys were sold, at which Maggie looked with a child's +interested gaze, keeping close to her mother's side the while, in spite +of the jostling she got from hurrying passers-by. + +Presently they turned into a narrow, quiet street, which brought them +out into a wider thoroughfare, where there were tram-cars and omnibuses +passing to and fro, and larger, grander shops attracted the little +girl's attention. They crossed this bustling street, and left its +turmoil behind as they began to ascend a wide road, almost deserted at +this hour. The wind now blew full in their faces. A scent of the sea +came with it. + +"Are you taking me to see the waves, mamma?" asked Maggie, remembering +that she had come that way once before, and had then been gladdened by +a sight of the beautiful waves breaking on the rocks beneath the Hoe. + +Her mother replied by a shake of the head. She had no breath to spare +for speech. It was all she could do to struggle against the strong +breeze as she made her way up the hill. Yet Maggie, catching sight of +her mother's face as they passed beneath a lamp, wondered to see how +bright her eyes were, and how flushed her cheeks. Her mother must be +much better, she thought, to be able to walk so far, after having been +for weeks too ill to leave the house. + +They had nearly gained the top of the hill, when the widow's steps +slackened, and she stood still before a large house with many windows +looking down on the road. The house seemed alive at this hour. Every +window was lighted; and in the lower rooms the venetian blinds were +half turned, revealing many figures flitting to and fro in the large, +well-decorated rooms. As the widow stood on the pavement, panting for +breath, and grasping the railings for support, a strain of merry music +floated out on the night air. + +A low moan of anguish broke from her at the sound. She had meant +to knock at that closed door, and ask to speak with the master of +the house. But how could she intrude now, when he was entertaining +company? Besides, there might be some there who would know her, though +surely the sorrows of the last few years must have aged her beyond all +recognition. Her heart sank within her. It had cost her much to come +there to-night, but for her child's sake she had nerved herself to the +effort. And now it was in vain. Her courage failed her. She could not +seek an interview to-night; and to-morrow it might be too late! + +She shivered and moaned again. + +"Mamma! mamma! what is the matter?" cried the child by her side. "Are +you ill? Why do you stand here so long?" + +Her mother did not reply. She was hardly conscious that the child +spoke. Her mind was in the past; she was thinking of other days when +she too had danced within those walls to the very tune that was now +being played. Yes, she had once danced there, as lightly and gaily as +any girl there to-night; but what a change had come! The contrast was +too bitter. + +"Mamma," said little Maggie, "won't you go home? It's very cold +standing here." + +The mother, heedless of her own bodily sensations, became aware of the +bitter wind that was sweeping round the childish form, so ill-clad +for such weather. She took the tiny hand upheld to her, and turned to +go; but a fit of coughing arrested her. Again she leaned against the +palings, weak and trembling, and struggled for breath. + +"My good woman, with such a cough as that you have no business to be +out to-night," said a voice near her as she began to recover from the +paroxysm. + +The speaker was a young gentleman in greatcoat and scarf, one of the +guests invited to the party, who had paused for a moment, with his hand +on the gate, to give the warning which his medical instincts prompted. + +"Thank you: I am going home," said the sufferer, hurriedly, and taking +her child's hand she passed on. + +The light of the street lamp fell on her as she went by; and as the +young doctor's observant glance read her face, he murmured to himself, +"Past all help now, poor thing!" + +She was dimly conscious of that truth at times, though for Maggie's +sake she still clung to the hope of getting better. For how could she +bear to think of leaving the child? What would become of Maggie, if at +her tender age she were left alone in this pitiless world? The thought +had weighed on the mother's heart through nights of wakefulness and +pain. + +As she felt her weakness increasing, her fears for Maggie grew +stronger, till at last pride yielded, and she had resolved that for her +child's sake she would make one more appeal to the parent who had vowed +that he would never forgive her. This was the purpose that had brought +her out to-night; but she had failed to accomplish it. No matter; +she would not give way to despair, faint and discouraged though she +felt. She would come again to-morrow. For Maggie's sake she would make +another attempt, whatever it might cost her. + +It was hard work to get home. The excitement which had sustained her +as she ascended the hill was gone now, and the despairing reaction +made her tremblingly aware of failing strength. More than once she was +obliged to stand still whilst the cough shook her feeble frame; but at +length they reached the lane again. Here the widow's staggering gait +attracted attention. Rough girls and lads, mistaking its cause, jeered +at her as she passed. + +She, poor soul, was scarce conscious of their mockery; but little +Maggie, young as she was, understood the meaning of their derisive +looks and coarse pleasantry. The child's cheeks burned with +indignation, and hot tears came into her dark eyes. The memory of the +intense pain and shame of those moments was branded on her mind. She +never forgot that walk through the lane. + +But at last they had passed the old curiosity shop, and gained the +turning into the quieter street where they lodged. A few steps brought +them to the house in which the widow had hired a room. They had reached +it not a moment too soon, for as she crossed its threshold, the invalid +was seized with a fit of coughing worse than any which had preceded it. +She leaned against the door, coughing violently. + +Suddenly the sound ceased, and Maggie uttered a cry of horror, for her +mother had fallen back against the wall deadly pale, and blood was +flowing in a stream from her mouth. + +Maggie's shrill cry brought the landlady and many of the lodgers to +the spot. There followed a scene of confusion and dismay. No one knew +what should be done. Everybody seemed to ask questions, which no one +answered. They dragged the now senseless woman into the nearest room; +and after some delay, one of the neighbours went in search of a doctor. + +"She's struck with death, I reckon," said the landlady, a +slatternly-looking woman, whose unhealthy countenance revealed but too +plainly her liking for the gin-bottle; "it was ill-luck my taking her +for a lodger." + +Maggie heard her words. Already the fear that this was death had come +to her. She had seen her father die, and now she knew that her mother +too was going from her. With a loud and bitter cry, she threw herself +on the ground beside her dying parent. + +The despairing cry of her child seemed to penetrate the stupor in which +the sufferer lay. Her heavy eyelids were lifted for a moment, and her +dying gaze fell on her child. + +"Maggie," she gasped out in broken utterance; "the house—you'll not +forget—your grandfather." + +The last word died away unheard as the deadly faintness stole over her +anew. + +"What's she saying?" asked one of the women. + +"Something about the House," said the landlady; "she knows that's where +the child will have to go to, for she's got no one belonging to her, I +fancy." + +No other words passed the white lips. The eyes closed again, the pallor +of the face increased. + +Maggie held her mother's hand, but the cold, stiff fingers could not +respond to the child's clinging touch—mother love could shield her no +longer. When, a little later, the doctor entered, impatiently pushing +aside the women, who pressing round the patient kept back the air which +was so precious, he found that his services were not needed. Death had +been before him, and had given everlasting release from pain and sorrow. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER III. + +Maggie's Second Visit to the +Old Curiosity Shop. + +ON the following day the china-dealer looked in vain for the plates +which the widow had promised to send him. On the morrow, too, they were +not forthcoming, and it vexed him to have to own the fact to his wife, +when she asked about them. + +"Oh, you'll not get them now," she said, in a tone of undoubted +assurance. + +"Oh, I don't give them up yet," replied the dealer; "maybe the lady's +ill, or something else has happened to prevent her sending them before." + +"Well, I shall be very much surprised, if they come," returned his +wife, provokingly. + +Griffin did not in the least care about having the plates. He was +satisfied to have secured the old Worcester jug. But he did desire to +have it proved that his strange customer was what he had judged her +to be—a real lady, who would deal honourably with him. When we are +interested in persons, and inclined to think highly of them, it is +painful to discover that they are not all we have imagined them. + +Griffin was none the less disposed to resent the widow's betrayal of +his trust because he was conscious that he had not acted fairly by her. +We are always ready to claim that others shall regulate their actions +towards us by the golden rule, however often we ourselves may have +failed to do unto others as we would they should do unto us. + +As the hours of the second day passed, and the plates did not appear, +Griffin felt himself to be an injured man. He grew so cross and +irritable that his wife wondered what could ail him. Surely he must +have something more on his mind than the absence of those plates. But +watching him with wifely anxiety, she soon saw that his irritability +arose from a physical rather than a mental cause. She feared that the +cold, which he had caught two days before by getting wet through, and +then standing in his wet clothes during the course of a long sale, had +laid sharp hold on him. Mrs. Griffin soon knew that her fear was not +unfounded. In a few hours her husband became so ill that he was obliged +to go to bed; and in bed he lay for many days, smitten with an acute +attack of inflammation of the lungs. + +Great was Mrs. Griffin's distress when the doctor told her that her +husband was dangerously ill. She was a small, slight, sickly-looking +woman, with the expression of one inclined to take a dark view of +human affairs. Such had indeed come to be the habitual attitude of her +mind. There was much excuse for her melancholy, poor woman. Constant +ill-health, and the bitterest grief and disappointment a woman can +know, had made her the soured-looking mortal she was. She had had seven +children, and not one of them had lived. Most of them had passed away +in infancy ere they had learned to call her mother; but one—a pretty, +delicate little girl—had struggled through her infantile ailments, and +lived for nine years the darling of her home, only to fall a victim to +scarlet fever, just as the parents hoped that she was beginning to grow +strong and healthy. + +It was a sore grief to Griffin and his wife when the little one was +taken away. Griffin got over it in time as men do, by losing thought +of his trouble in the absorbing interest of his daily pursuits. As his +trade grew, he gradually ceased to miss the sound of little feet moving +so lightly amidst his treasures, and the accents of the soft voice +which had called him father. He forgot his little daughter, and gave +more and more of his heart to his rare old china and costly curiosities. + +But the wound in the mother's heart had never healed. Though twenty +years had passed since her child died, the memory of little Polly was +fresh as ever to her. She could still recall the sweet tones of her +darling's voice, and fancy she heard again the patter of the restless +feet which used to trot to and fro in the old house. The sight of a +child brought her an aching sense of loss. In night visions she saw +again the little face that she loved, and often would she murmur in her +sleep the name of the child. As growing years added to her weakness the +infirmities of age, making the burden of life heavier, Mrs. Griffin +felt a deeper and deeper yearning for a child's love and aid. + +Never had she felt her desolation more keenly than now, when she saw +her husband laid low by alarming illness, and the thought thrust itself +on her, that he would be taken first, and she left alone in the world. +Her heart sank within her at the first hint of danger. It was easy for +her to believe the worst. Her hopes had always been disappointed. + +Mrs. Griffin made a sorry attempt to hide her distress from her +husband. She did not want to frighten him; but he knew his wife's +nature too well to be deceived by her assumption of cheerfulness. He +knew that her smiles were forced, for what could be more mournful than +her gaze as it rested upon him? Whilst her eyelids were red, and she +sighed each time that she turned away from the bedside. He tried to +cheer her. + +"Don't ee take on, old wife," he said, speaking with difficulty, "I'm +not going to die just yet. I shall be up and about again in a few days." + +"I hope you may be, John, I'm sure," said his wife, lugubriously. + +And, unable to keep back her tears; she slipped out of the room and +went downstairs, where she could indulge her emotion without restraint. +The deserted look of the shop and the little room behind, where lay +Griffin's cement pot, his tools, and the piece of china he had been +trying to mend when the attack of pain came on, gave fresh intensity to +her grief. Sitting down on the first chair, Mrs. Griffin covered her +face with her apron and sobbed aloud. + +She had been crying thus for some minutes when she became aware of a +dull, monotonous sound, which seemed as if it might have been going on +for a considerable time. She raised her head and listened. Some one was +tapping on the door of the shop. Hurriedly wiping her eyes with her +apron, Mrs. Griffin went out to attend to the customer. + +A little girl stood just within the shop, a slight, delicate-looking +child, whose pale face and large dark eyes had a scared, nervous look. +She was holding something carefully rolled up in her little apron. She +started and almost dropped what she held as Mrs. Griffin came quietly +upon her. + +"What do you want, my dear?" asked the woman, noting with admiration +the child's long dark eyelashes, and the pretty rings of hair, which +hung over her white forehead. + +"I want to see the old man who keeps the shop," said the child, +tremulously; "I have brought him the plates mamma said he should have." + +"All right, my dear, I know; I will take them for him," said Mrs. +Griffin, taking the plates, which the child very reluctantly gave to +her. + +"Can't I see him?" asked Maggie. + +"No, my dear, you can't, for he's in bed; he is very bad," said the +wife, looking almost as if she expected sympathy from the child, who +gazed at her with such grave, sad eyes; "but I'm his wife, and I'll +take care of the plates for him. Have you anything else!" For she saw +that the child still held something rolled up in her apron. + +"Yes, they're mamma's books," said the child, in a tone of deep +sadness; "I wanted to ask him to keep them for me. Mamma said he was a +good old man, and I don't want Mrs. Cook to get them." + +"Are you living at Mrs. Cook's?" asked Mrs. Griffin, wondering more and +more at the child's strange appearance and manner. + +Maggie nodded. + +"And your mamma, is not she with you?" + +"Mamma is dead!" said Maggie, dropping her voice to a whisper. "She +died on Monday night, and I've no one belonging to me now, and they say +I must go to the workhouse." + +Large tears had gathered in the child's eyes; but, with a self-control +far beyond her years, she checked the sobs that strove to rise. + +"Your mother dead! Oh, my poor dear!" cried Mrs. Griffin, her motherly +sympathies stirred into new life. "On Monday night, did you say? Why +wasn't that the evening she was here, and brought the jug? Are you sure +it was Monday night?" + +"Oh yes; it was when we got home," said the child, beginning to sob as +she read the kindness and pity in Mrs. Griffin's glance. + +"Then 'twas very sudden?" said Mrs. Griffin. + +"Yes, she broke a blood-vessel, the doctor said," replied Maggie. + +"Poor soul, no wonder with such a cough," sighed Mrs. Griffin; "I +remember it made me shudder to hear it, and I asked my man who it was +coughing so. Dear, dear! And so she died that very night! How sad, +to be sure!" And Mrs. Griffin sighed again as she thought what the +mother's anguish must have been at the prospect of leaving this sweet +child alone in the world. + +"What is your name, my dear?" she asked, putting her arm lovingly +around the child. + +"Maggie," was the reply. + +"Maggie what?" asked Mrs. Griffin. + +"Maggie Knight," said the child. + +"And have you really no one belonging to you?" + +"No one," said the child; "and Mrs. Cook says I must go to the House. +What is the House like? Will they be kind to me there?" + +"Not very; and it's a dreary place," said Mrs. Griffin; "I would not +like any child I cared for to go there." + +"Mrs. Cook says that before mamma died she said I was to go to the +House," said little Maggie, on whose face the look of distress had +deepened. + +"Did she? Then it must have been a sore grief to her, poor soul," said +Mrs. Griffin, feelingly; "but there's my man knocking for me; I must +go. I declare if I hadn't forgotten him for the moment." + +"Will you take the books?" said Maggie, unrolling her apron, and +showing a Bible and prayer-book, whose handsome bindings and gilt +clasps bore signs of age and wear. "They were mamma's, they were all +she had left; she sold the others; but she would not sell these because +her mother gave them to her. Mrs. Cook has taken all the rest of our +things to pay for the rent. She says the money mamma got for the jug +won't half pay her for the expense and trouble she's had. I hid these +and the plates where she could not find them, for I knew mamma had +promised the old man the plates, and I thought he looked kind and good, +and perhaps would take care of the books for me, for I was afraid they +would not let me take them to the workhouse." + +[Illustration: "BE SURE YOU COME AGAIN."] + +"Bless you, child, we'll take good care of them for you," said Mrs. +Griffin, touched by this mark of childish confidence. "You may trust us +to do that. And come and see me again soon, will you? Tell Mrs. Cook +she must not send you to the House till she has seen me. Tell her Mrs. +Griffin of the Old Curiosity Shop says so." + +Maggie nodded, and a more hopeful look came to her white little face. + +"Good-bye: you are very kind," she said; and with a sudden movement of +gratitude, she held up her face to be kissed. + +All the mother in Mrs. Griffin awoke at that moment. She drew the child +close to her, and kissed her fondly, uttering gentle words of pity as +her hand stroked the soft dark curls. But the renewed sound of knocking +overhead reminded her of her wifely duty. + +"Good-bye, my darling, I must not stay now," she said; "be sure you +come again." + +But still she lingered for a moment to watch little Maggie pass down +the lane. + +"Dear little child," she murmured, "how my heart goes out to her! She's +just about the age of my little Polly. To think of such a child being +sent to the workhouse! And the poor mother! I must tell Griffin about +her." + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IV. + +John Griffin makes a Vow. + +HURRYING upstairs with many prickings of heart for having left him so +long to himself, Mrs. Griffin came breathless to her husband's bedside. +She found him looking flushed and uneasy. + +"Who have you been chattering to down in the shop?" he asked, very +crossly. "I should think you might have cut short your gossip for once." + +John Griffin was far from being ill-tempered; but even the most +good-humoured of men are apt to get rather bearish when enduring severe +pain. + +"It was such a dear little girl," began Mrs. Griffin, scarcely heeding +his irritable tones in her eagerness to tell the news; "she's brought +your plates, and oh, John, her mother's dead!" + +"What do you mean? Whose mother's dead?" he asked, his tone sharper +than before. + +"Why, you know that poor widow who sold you the jug you was so pleased +with," said Mrs. Griffin; "and the plates we thought you wouldn't get, +the child has brought just now. The reason she did not bring them +before was because her mother died that very night." + +"What night?" he asked. + +"Why, Monday night, of course, after they got back from here," said his +wife; "the poor soul was lodging at Mrs. Cook's. Her death must have +been awful sudden. The child says she broke a blood-vessel. You noticed +that she looked very ill, and you remember how she coughed. The poor +little girl says she is to be taken to the workhouse, for she's left +all alone in the world with no one to look to." + +Mrs. Griffin's words were checked by a deep groan from her husband. + +"What's the matter?" she asked, anxiously. "Is the pain worse?" + +"Mortal bad," he replied; "it cuts me like a knife." + +"Dear, dear," said his wife, full of pity; "I'll get you another hot +poultice; p'raps that 'll ease it." + +And as she hurried about to attend to his wants, she said no more of +the widow or her child. Griffin could not have heeded her words had +she spoken. All his powers of mind and body were held captive by acute +pain. But his wife's words had had their effect on him. The news of +little Maggie's sudden bereavement had suggested to him the possibility +that death might be near for him also. + +The doctor looked grave when he came that evening, and found old +Griffin worse; graver still the next morning, when the patient's +temperature was higher than before, whilst his strength was diminished +by a restless night of pain. + +Dr. Thornton was a young and handsome man, but with the thoughtful, +quiet demeanour which befitted his profession. He was very +kind-hearted, and his straightforward manner quickly won the confidence +of his patients. He had not been long in practice, and his work lay +mainly amongst the poorer classes; but he did not think it beneath +him to give poor people his best attention, nor to employ for their +advantage every alleviation which his knowledge and skill could devise. +He cherished an enthusiastic belief that his profession was the finest +one in the world, and he shrank from no self-denial which its pursuit +might demand. Leslie Thornton's friends often spoke of him as a "good +fellow," and never was the epithet more justly applied. + +When he had carefully examined his patient, and given the wife every +instruction she needed, he stood silent by the bed for a few minutes, +his face wearing a look of grave deliberation. He had sent Mrs. Griffin +away, that he might feel free to speak as he would to his patient; but +still he hesitated, debating with himself whether it would be better +to tell the old man what a critical point his malady had reached, or +to leave him unprepared to meet death, if death should come. Whilst he +hesitated, old Griffin's voice decided the question for him. + +"I be very bad, doctor," he said feebly; "I never felt anything like it +before. I'm as weak as a baby. But I suppose you're going to set me up +again. I haven't got to the end yet?" + +His last words were uttered as a question, and the doctor could not +meet them with equivocation. + +"I don't give up hope for you, Griffin," he said; "I've seen men pull +through worse illnesses than this; but at your age such an attack is a +serious thing. It is only right I should tell you that it may be beyond +my power to save you." + +The change which passed over old Griffin's face was very slight. His +eyelids drooped, his lips quivered for a moment, that was all. + +"Perhaps, if you wished it, it would be well for you to see a +clergyman," suggested Dr. Thornton. + +"No, no, I want no parsons," said the old man, with sudden fierceness; +"I've done very well without them all my life, and I'll do without them +to the end." + +"Then you're not afraid to die?" asked the doctor. + +"No, I'm not afraid," said the old man, doggedly; "what would be the +good? If I am to die, I must die. It'll be hard for the poor old wife; +she's had a sight of trouble in the past with losing her babies and +little Polly, and she won't like to lose me too. But sending for a +parson wouldn't make it any better." + +"Have you no sins to repent of?" asked Dr. Thornton. + +"Repent?" repeated the old man, feebly. "Why should I repent? I've been +no worse than other people. I've always worked hard, and supported +myself honestly. I've done nobody any harm." + +But even as he spoke there came to the old man's mind a vision of the +pale, sad-looking widow, and her little dark-eyed girl. Could he say +he had done no one any harm, when he remembered how he had dealt with +them? And the poor woman was dead. Perhaps he would meet her in that +other world of which he had some dim notions. + +"Do you believe in a God?" asked the young man, presently, curious to +know whether this strange old fellow had any religious belief whatever. + +Griffin made a slight movement of the head, which seemed to signify +affirmation. + +"Do you ever pray?" asked Dr. Thornton. + +"Not since I was a boy," was the reply. + +"You have heard of the Lord Jesus Christ?" + +"May be, I dare say I have; but I don't know much about Him," said old +Griffin, dully,—"religion was never in my line." + +His words startled Leslie Thornton. It seemed marvellous that in a town +notorious for the number of its Christian sects, living within sound +of the bells of many churches, and with several places of worship of +different kinds only a short distance from his door, one could be found +so ignorant of spiritual things as this man appeared to be. + +There was silence in the room for a few minutes. The young doctor was +conscious of a painful sense of embarrassment. He asked himself whether +he ought not to make an effort to enlighten the dull, dark spirit of +this man, who lay on the borderland of death. But never had speech +seemed so difficult. A sense of his own ignorance and uncertainty kept +him silent. + +"I am not fit to talk to you about these things," he said, at last, +very awkwardly; "but you ought to hear about the Lord Jesus, who died +for us sinners. I wish you would send for a clergyman." + +"No, thank you, sir," said the old man, stolidly; "I am much obliged to +you, but I shall do very well as I am; I want no parson." + +And so the doctor left him apparently undisturbed by any qualms of +conscience. But Dr. Thornton's words had made more impression than he +imagined. Old Griffin was not so stoically indifferent to the possible +approach of death as he had chosen to appear. A vague feeling of +uneasiness had been awakened, which grew more clearly defined as his +thoughts wandered back into the past, and many an incident of bygone +years came to mind again. + +He fought against the fear of death. He was not going to give up hope +yet. The doctor had said that he might recover, and he did not mean to +die if he could help it. But still he could not banish from his mind +the thought of that solemn possibility. + +The doctor had asked him if he had not sins to repent of. Certainly he +had sinned; he could not deny that; but his sins were not worse than +the sins of most people. Would God remember them against him? Would He +punish him for his sins? Weak and worn though he was, Griffin tried to +examine himself concerning the evil he had done. He had not always been +strictly honest in his dealings; but then what man of business was? +There were tricks in all trades. He had sometimes told a lie in order +to further a sale; but there had seemed no great harm in that. The sin +which lay most heavily on his conscience, as he reviewed the past, was +his dishonest transaction with regard to the old Worcester jug. It was +mean of him, he owned to himself, not to have given its full value to +the poor widow who was evidently sorely in need of money. Could the +same thing happen again he would certainly act differently. He wished +it were possible now to make amends. But the poor woman was dead; he +could do nothing for her. Still there was the child; could he help her? +He would thankfully do it if he could, and so get rid of this burden, +which pressed so heavily on his mind. + +And thinking thus, John Griffin made a vow—a solemn vow—which he hoped +that God would hear and approve. If his life were prolonged, and he +rose from this bed of sickness, he would early make it his business to +inquire into the little orphan's state, and befriend her, if he found +that she needed a friend. + +"Old woman," he said to his wife, a little later, "do you think I've +been a bad man?" + +"A bad man, John? By no means," said Mrs. Griffin, emphatically; +"you've never drank nor swore, nor done anything very bad that I know +of. You've always worked hard enough for two men; and I'm sure you've +been a good husband to me. What makes you ask that?" + +"There's things I could wish undone," said old Griffin, feebly; "if I +get about again I'll try to do different." + +"Don't ee talk like that, Griffin," said his wife, beginning to cry; +"it cuts me to the heart." + +"Don't cry, old wife," said her husband, gently; "if I should go, you +won't be left so badly off. I've saved a nice little sum. There's money +in the savings bank, and money invested in the funds, and the stock of +old china in the shop is worth a good round price." + +"Oh, John, what good would money do me, if I was left all alone?" +sobbed the poor woman. "I hope I should soon follow you. I couldn't +live long without you, I know. If little Pally had lived, it would have +been different perhaps but now—" + +Her words were lost in a choking sob. + +Griffin drew a weary sigh, caused by pain, both bodily and mental. What +had been the good of his toiling and saving all these years, if this +was to be the end? The rare old china and antique ornaments below could +give him no comfort now. They seemed worthless, like everything else in +this short, vain life. He knew that his wife set no value on them. She +would have been happier as the wife of a poor man with a house full of +children. + +He closed his eyes, and sighed again. Presently he sank into an uneasy +doze. His wife sat by his side, and watched him anxiously. By-and-by he +began to murmur in his sleep. + +Bending close she caught the words, "the little maid." + +"He's thinking of our Polly," said the mother to herself. But she was +mistaken. The little white face, with sad, beseeching eyes, which +haunted the sufferer's dreams, was not the face of little Polly. + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER V. + +Maud Platten and Leslie Thornton. + +IT was on a Sunday evening that Dr. Thornton had that serious talk with +the old china-dealer. John Griffin was the last patient that it was +necessary to see that day, and when the doctor left his house, he was +about to attend the evening service at church. As he walked quickly up +the lane he was pondering the old man's case, and trying to weigh the +probabilities of life and death. + +He was anxious about this patient, in whom he felt much interest. He +had before attended him for a slighter ailment; and being somewhat +of a china fancier, had occasionally lingered in the shop to examine +Griffin's curious wares, and listen to his description of their age and +value. He liked the quaint bluntness of the old man's speech. He had +been little prepared, however, to find him in such a state of darkness +in regard to spiritual truth. + +The discovery shocked Leslie Thornton; for whilst deeply versed in +medical knowledge, he was not one of those who try to ground everything +upon the verities of their science, and think to prove their high +intelligence by refusing to believe all truth which lies beyond the +range of natural law. Leslie had been trained in childhood by a +Christian mother, whose gentle life had taught him better than her +words the glory of righteousness, purity, and truth. He had a deep +reverence for the Christian faith, although he had not known how to +explain its truth to the ignorant old man whose earthly course seemed +so nearly run. + +But Dr. Thornton ceased to muse upon old Griffin's ignorance, as +turning from the lane, he crossed the busy thoroughfare, and made his +way up the hill, which the weary widow and her child had ascended on +that last sad day of her life. He was going to church, but he was not +going alone, and thoughts of one who was waiting for him made him +quicken his footsteps as he heard the church bells begin to ring. He +walked quickly till, almost at the top of the hill, he paused before +the large many-windowed house at which the widow had lingered on that +bitter night. He rang the bell, and when the servant opened the door +to him, entered the house with the air of one who felt himself at home +there. + +"At last!" cried a bright young voice, as he opened the door of the +dining-room. "I began to think that some horrid patient was keeping +you, and that I should have to give up church for to-night. Not that I +should have minded very much, for Mr. Wright does get most dreadfully +prosy, and the curate is even worse. Still I am glad you have come." + +The speaker was a young girl of most attractive appearance. As she came +forward elegantly dressed, her dark eyes shining with pleasure, and her +face wearing the prettiest blush and smile, the look of pride and joy +which lit up the young man's countenance could be easily explained. + +"Thank you, Maud," he said, as he pressed her hand; "you knew I should +come if I could, did you not? Where are the others?" + +"Oh, papa would go on. You know what a dreadful fidget he is about +getting to church in time," said the young lady, laughingly; "but my +gloves refused to button, so I thought I would wait for you to do them +for me. You are so clever at such things, you know." + +No one seeing Leslie as he bent to button the glove across the tiny +wrist, need have asked in what relation he stood to the fairy-like +little beauty beside him. She was Colonel Platten's daughter, and +from many suitors had chosen the handsome young doctor for her future +husband. Her father, a proud, stately man of the frigid, unbending +temperament which makes few friends, and is often judged more harshly +than it deserves, was of opinion that she might have done better, but +he did not oppose her choice. He liked Leslie Thornton, who was of good +family, and a gentleman in the highest sense of the word, and having +had painful proof in the past of the deplorable consequences that may +ensue from crossing the will of a high-spirited girl, the colonel had +judged it best to allow Maud to gratify the inclination of her heart. + +Maud was not the colonel's only daughter, though by many of her +acquaintance she was supposed so to be. There had been another, the +only child of his first marriage; but she had left his home long +since, and marrying in defiance of his will, and under very unhappy +circumstances, had been disowned by her father. It was the old story +of a high-spirited, self-willed girl rebelling against the rule of +an unwise, unloving step-mother. Margaret, or, as she was generally +called, Maggie Platten, was twelve years of age when her father married +his second wife, quite old enough to prove a most intractable charge +to her step-mother. As an only child she had been much indulged and +petted, and having loved her gentle mother with all the warmth of a +passionate, impulsive temperament, she keenly resented her father's +marrying again only a year after the decease of his first wife. + +The father and daughter had never learned to understand each other. +He loved his child, and believed that he was consulting her interests +in marrying again. She judged him hard and unfeeling for so doing. +Unhappily, the lady he had chosen for his wife was not of a temper +that could smooth matters in the home. It was soon clear that she and +her step-daughter would never get on together. So Maggie was sent to +a distant boarding-school, and during six long years saw scarcely +anything of her home, for, by the influence of her step-mother, it was +generally arranged that she should spend her holidays with relatives, +or that her father should pay her a visit instead of her returning to +form one of the family circle. + +But when Maggie was of an age to leave school, it was impossible to +banish her longer. The young lady came home in no placable mood. She +resented the injustice which for so long had kept her from her place +at home, and was determined to visit it upon the head of the chief +offender. + +A little sister and two baby brothers had been added to the home since +she left it. Maggie could have loved them, for she was naturally of a +warm, affectionate nature; but in her anger towards her step-mother, +she tried to steel her heart against her children. There were constant +storms in the house after Maggie's return. It was the common talk of +their acquaintance how ill Mrs. Platten and her step-daughter got on +together. Many sympathized with Maggie, amongst them Mrs. Allen, her +father's widowed sister, who was then residing in the town. Maggie was +a beautiful girl, very popular in society, and Mrs. Platten hoped that +she would soon marry and go to a home of her own. + +But Maggie was in no hurry to give up her maiden freedom. The suitors +whom her father approved were not to her taste. At last, however, +Maggie's wayward heart made choice of a lover; but it was a choice +which appalled her father. The young man was only a banker's clerk, +and though of gentlemanly and pleasant appearance, there were rumours +abroad affecting his character, which would have made the colonel deny +him his daughter had he not deemed him so vastly beneath her in social +position. The colonel forbade the match positively and contemptuously, +as something too preposterous to be considered for a moment. + +But his wilful, deluded daughter was determined to have her own way. +She was now twenty-one, and in possession of some small property +which she had inherited from her mother. She resolved to assert her +independence of parental control, more especially that exerted by her +step-mother. With this object in view, she hired rooms in the house +in which her aunt was lodging, and taking advantage of her father's +temporary absence from home, removed thither, taking with her all her +possessions, and many things which had belonged to her mother. + +The colonel's pride and affection were alike wounded by his daughter's +action. He never forgave his sister for having encouraged Maggie to +take this step, and he held her in a great measure responsible for all +that followed. For after a few months of estrangement had passed, the +foolish girl put the crowning stroke to her defiance by marrying the +young man of whom her father so highly disapproved. + +That his disapprobation was not unfounded was soon manifest. A few +weeks after the marriage, strange discoveries were made at a certain +bank. A long course of embezzlement practised by one of the clerks had +suddenly been brought to light in the most surprising manner. The fraud +was traced to Maggie's husband, and he only saved himself from the +hands of justice by absconding in hot haste. + +Colonel Platten's proud spirit was tortured by the shame and disgrace +thus brought home to him, and his anger burned fiercely against his +daughter. He had no pity for her sorrow. He vowed that she should be +nothing to him from henceforth. He wished never to see her or hear +of her again; he desired to forget that he had ever had such a bad, +ungrateful child. + +And he had his wish. He had never seen her since that day, when in +passionate, bitter words he thus upbraided her. + +Denounced and cast off, Maggie fled from the town where she was so +well-known. She could not bear to live on there in disgrace and misery. +What became of her no one knew. Some thought that she had gone to join +her husband in his retreat on the Continent, others whispered that she +had been seen in London. But the mystery was not explained, and soon +people forgot to wonder about her. The excitement of the scandal died +out in a comparatively short time, and those who had once been proud +to boast the acquaintance of the beautiful Miss Platten, no longer +mentioned her or even thought of her. + +The colonel recovered from the wound to his pride. What the wound to +his affections had been, his cold, stern demeanour suffered no one to +judge. He never named his elder daughter, nor permitted any one to +speak to him about her. She was as one dead, nay, worse than dead, for +the memory of the dead is cherished, whilst he desired to forget that +such an one as Margaret had ever existed. + +The unhappy affair at the bank was hushed up, the bank managers, out +of consideration for Colonel Platten, refusing to prosecute. Now, +after nine years, the whole sad history was forgotten save by those +intimately concerned, and a few busybodies who kept mental registers +of all events affecting the lives of their acquaintance. Even Leslie +Thornton, in his close connection with the family, was not clearly +informed as to the unhappy circumstances which had severed the elder +Miss Platten from her relatives. + +Maud herself could not have given an accurate account of the matter. +She had never troubled herself about the fate of the half-sister +whom she could faintly recollect as a tall and beautiful being who +had attracted her childish admiration. She was content with her own +happy lot as the only daughter of her home. Her father was never +demonstrative in his affection towards her; but he treated her with +kindness and indulgence, and after her mother's death, which happened +when she was about seven, she had things pretty much her own way. + +Maud Platten was a lovely, winsome girl, though a few of the colonel's +oldest friends, who remembered the beauty of his elder daughter, +whispered that Maud was not to be compared with her sister. But Leslie, +who had had no opportunity of making such a comparison, thought himself +a happy fellow to have won the love of this brightest and fairest of +girls. He had already taken a house at a very short distance from the +colonel's, to which in a few weeks' time he hoped to take his bride. +His heart beat high with hope of future happiness. He had many things +to say to Maud about the new home and their new life as they walked to +church together on that Sunday evening, and for the time he forgot old +Griffin and his anxiety concerning him. + +But the old man's words had made a deep impression on him, and they +returned to haunt his mind during the course of the sermon, which Maud +found so prosy. It was in truth a discourse not calculated to hold the +attention or interest the minds of the congregation; and it was little +wonder that its young and restless members looked about, and let many +thoughts pass through their minds, which the preacher would have judged +unsuited to the time and place. + +"Maud!" Leslie startled his betrothed by saying, as he walked home with +her after the service. "I want your advice about one of my patients; I +want you to tell me how I ought to deal with him." + +"Leslie! What an idea! What ridiculous thing will you be saying next?" +asked Maud, merrily. "As if I could advise you about your patients! I +know nothing of medicine." + +"I was not going to consult you about medicine, dearest," he replied; +"with all due respect for your abilities, I think I can prescribe for +him without your aid. But this is a case of ministering to a mind +diseased, or rather to a mind that is in darkness. What would you say, +Maud, to a poor old fellow stricken with an illness that may end in +death for aught that I can tell, and who knows no more than the name of +the Lord Jesus Christ, and seems in utter ignorance of the religious +truth that you and I have learned from our childhood?" + +"Oh, Leslie! How can I tell? What a strange question to ask me!" said +Maud, in an uneasy tone. "You should send Mr. Wright to talk to him. I +don't see that it is your business to trouble about it." + +"But the old fellow refuses to see a clergyman," returned Dr. Thornton; +"he has evidently a strong prejudice against 'parsons,' as he calls +them. I feel as if I were responsible for his state, somehow. I don't +like to leave him to himself, without trying to say a word that may +help him. I wish you would tell me what to say to him, Maud. Women +understand these things so much better than men. If my mother had been +living, she would have been the one to send to him." + +He was silent, waiting for her to reply. + +But Maud was silent too. Her lover had never before spoken directly +to her about religion, and she felt vexed with him for introducing so +distasteful a subject. Neither did she care to hear any of the details +of his profession. She thought that it showed want of consideration on +his part to speak to one so young and charming as herself of so doleful +a thing as an old man's death-bed. + +Moreover, Maud was inclined to feel jealous of Leslie's frequent +allusions to the mother whom he had loved so dearly. She could almost +fancy at times that he deemed his mother to have attained a higher +standard of feminine excellence than herself, and wished to hold his +parent up as an example to the girl whom he had chosen for his wife. +Maud resented the comparison. She felt sure that she could never be +good after the pattern of Leslie's mother, and she had no great wish +to attain to such goodness. Accustomed all her life to be spoiled and +flattered, it would have gratified her vanity to know that Leslie +believed her to be absolute perfection, and to hear him tell her that +there never had been and never could be a woman to be compared with +herself. But, warmly as he loved her, it was not Leslie's way to deal +in extravagant compliments. + +"What sort of old man is he?" asked Maud, presently, when the silence +had lasted some minutes, and she felt oppressed by the sense that she +was expected to say something. + +Leslie at once began to describe the peculiarities of the old man's +home and circumstances. + +Maud listened with amusement to his description of the funny old +curiosity shop, and made no objection when he suggested that he should +like to take her there some day to inspect the old man's store, and +judge if he had any bric-à-brac suitable for their new drawing-room. +But she was dismayed when he said suddenly: "I suppose you would not +like to go and see the old man whilst he is ill, dearest?" + +"Certainly not," she replied, hastily; "you frighten me by mentioning +such a thing. I have the greatest horror of seeing sick people. I wish +you were not a doctor, Leslie, to have to go to such horrid places, and +see such horrid sights. I am sure they prey upon your mind, and you are +getting—morbid—is not that the word? Yes, you are getting morbid, or +you would not talk as you did just now." + +"Nonsense, I am not morbid," said Leslie, with a smile; "but a doctor +cannot help taking a serious view of life." + +"Then don't try to make me take it," said Maud, playfully, though with +meaning in her words; "I hate taking serious views of anything. I do +not mean my life to be serious; I mean it to be bright and gay. So mind +you are not to talk to me about death-beds and sicknesses, or I will +not marry you after all." + +Of course it was only a joke. Maud laughed merrily when she had so +spoken; but her words had a sting in them for Leslie. + +"I would not sadden you for the world, darling," he protested, +earnestly; "it shall not be my fault if your life is not bright and +happy, but you must not say again that you wish I were not a doctor. I +don't like to hear you say that." + +"I am sorry; I will not say it again if you do not remind me too +forcibly of your profession," she promised; "and now I have something +very nice to tell you. Papa has agreed to take tickets for the next +ball at the Assembly Rooms, and of course you must go with us. I am +so delighted, for I want to have another good dance before I become a +sober matron." + +"Do you think you will ever attain to that dignity?" asked Leslie, +lightly. + +"I am afraid not," she returned, with a silvery laugh; "but about the +ball; you will go with us, will you not?" + +"I shall be most happy, if it is possible," he replied; "you do not +think I should like you to go without me?" + +By this time they were again at Colonel Platten's house. Dr. Thornton +would have entered and stayed an hour or two, as his habit was on +Sunday evenings, but, unfortunately, a messenger was awaiting him there +with an urgent summons to one of his poor patients. + +"How tiresome!" murmured Maud, as he hurried away, having lingered to +the last moment in saying his farewell: "I wish he were not a doctor." +And she went into the house feeling vexed and disappointed. + +Leslie, too, as he went on his way, carried a weight of disappointment. +He was pained by the manner in which Maud had received his confidence +regarding old Griffin. He had counted on finding in his betrothed a +friend to whom he could always speak freely about his patients, and +who would sympathize with his anxieties on their behalf, and comfort +him under the many harassing cares and vexations inseparable from the +career of a medical man. He was unprepared to learn that Maud did not +like his profession, and did not care to hear any mention of the work +to which he gave his time and strength. Would it always be thus, he +wondered? Would she always love pleasures and gaieties better than all +else, and try persistently to shut her eyes to the serious side of +life? No, he did not believe it. Love would not long allow him to think +critically of his beautiful Maud. He would not have her other than she +was. She would grow wiser in time. When they were married, he felt sure +that he should find her all that he could possibly desire, and a far +sweeter wife than he should ever deserve. + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VI. + +How John Griffin kept His Vow. + +JOHN GRIFFIN'S illness was not to end in death. At his next visit +the doctor saw a slight improvement in his patient's condition. The +favourable symptoms continued, and in a few days Dr. Thornton, much to +his satisfaction, could pronounce the old man out of danger. + +Mrs. Griffin's joy at thus being relieved from her terrible dread was +unbounded. She overwhelmed her husband with tokens of her affectionate +solicitude; and though she was often repaid with scant thanks or +impatient words, and found old Griffin in his time of convalescence +more irritable and difficult to please than she had ever known him, she +took his crossness in very good part. It was but natural, she argued, +that, after all he had endured, he should be rather fractious, when he +at last began to get well. Griffin was not the first man who had found +the slow, tedious process of recovering health and strength more trying +to his patience than the acute suffering which had preceded it. + +How was it now with John Griffin's vow to befriend little Maggie? Did +he forget it, as so many forget the resolutions made in sickness, when +the dreaded stroke is removed and the blessing of health restored to +them? No, he did not forget it; it abode in his mind as a resolve to be +carried out when he was strong and well again, and found a convenient +time in which to attend to it. But his conscience did not trouble him +so keenly concerning the purchase of the Worcester jug, now that death, +which seemed so near, had again receded into the distance. + +Still, Griffin truly meant to make inquiries about Maggie, and to do +what he could to make reparation to her for the wrong done to her +mother, only in his present weak and languid state he did not feel that +he could hurry himself about it. He shrank from speaking to his wife +on the subject. He fancied that she would not understand his remorse +concerning the good bargain he had made, and that she would wonder at +his taking such interest in a child of whom they knew nothing. + +So he said not a word about little Maggie, though he kept wishing that +his wife would mention her again. He would have liked to know if she +had heard any more of the child. Yet he did not put any questions which +could draw forth the information he desired; and, little guessing what +was in his mind, Mrs. Griffin said nothing on the subject for some time. + +But though she was silent concerning her, Mrs. Griffin had not +forgotten the little orphan. The child had indeed passed from her mind +during the worst days of her husband's illness, when his state demanded +her utmost care and attention. But as soon as he began to mend, and +became less dependent on her, her heart, set free from its painful +suspense, had leisure to dwell upon little Maggie, and wonder how she +was faring. She said nothing to her husband about the child, for the +simple reason that she did not wish to recall to his mind his business +affairs, for she saw that Griffin was disposed to fret and worry over +the loss of trade which resulted from his illness. He had always +managed his shop without aid, save such as his wife could give him. A +jealous dislike to teaching any one the secrets of his trade had kept +him from taking an apprentice. + +So, whilst he had been laid aside, the business had been almost at a +stand-still, except so far as his wife's interposition had been able to +meet the customers' requirements. John Griffin felt an eager longing +to get back to his shop again. He was sure that things must be getting +into a terrible muddle there, and feared that some of his treasures +might get broken during his absence. But Dr. Thornton laid such stress +on his taking care, and not exposing himself to cold, that the old man +dared not hurry out of his sick room. + +Mrs. Griffin was hoping from day to day that little Maggie would come +again as she had promised. But she did not come, and Mrs. Griffin began +to fear that the child was already lodged in the workhouse. She longed +to put on her bonnet, and slip round to Mrs. Cook's lodgings to make +inquiries about Maggie; but she could not get away from home even to +go that short distance. It was impossible to leave the shop in the +day-time, and towards evening Griffin usually grew so weary and fretful +that he could not bear his wife to be out of his sight for five minutes. + +Thus it happened that, without their exchanging a word on the subject, +similar thoughts were often passing through the minds of husband and +wife. At last, however, they came to an understanding. + +It was a Sunday evening, and Mrs. Griffin was free from all cares +respecting the shop. Griffin had taken a fresh start on the road +towards recovery. He had come downstairs for the first time, and was +sitting in an arm-chair by the fire, having just partaken with good +appetite of a meal of tea, bread and butter, and salted herring. He was +looking more like himself, as his wife told him, than she had seen him +look for many a day, and some of the bright content which had returned +to his countenance was reflected on hers as she sat and watched him. +She really might leave him now in safety for a few minutes, if only he +would not think her unkind for proposing such a thing. + +"John," said Mrs. Griffin, suddenly, "Thursday will be Christmas Day!" + +"So it will," returned he; "dear, dear, what a long time I've been ill. +It's quite time I got about to look into things again." + +"You'll soon be able to now, I hope," said his wife, brightly; then, +feeling that there was no longer any need to keep silence, she added, +"I do wonder what sort of a Christmas that poor dear child will spend. +Did I ever tell you, John, about her bringing her mother's books for us +to keep for her?" + +"What child do you mean?" asked her husband, though he fancied he knew. + +"Why, you know," returned Mrs. Griffin, "the dear little girl who +brought the plates, and said that her mother was dead, and that she was +going to be sent to the workhouse." + +"Yes, I remember," he said, shortly; "but what about her mother's +books?" + +"I'll tell you," said his wife; and at considerable length, and with +much circumlocution, she told him of Maggie's visit, and repeated all +that the child had said. "And I asked her to come again, and to tell +Mrs. Cook not to send her to the workhouse just at once; but she's not +been near the place since, so I suppose they've sent the poor child +away. She's a good-for-nothing woman, that Mrs. Cook. I doubt she has +misused the dear little thing." + +"And so she said that I was a good man," observed old Griffin, +musingly; "well, she made a mistake there." + +"Nonsense, Griffin," said his wife; "what a queer notion that is you've +taken into your head. If you're not a good man, I don't know where I +should find one." + +Old Griffin shook his head, and was silent. + +"I should like to have a look at those books that the child brought," +he said, after a while; "fancy her trusting us so, poor little maid." + +He sighed as he spoke, for he felt that he was unworthy the child's +innocent trust. + +"Yes, and such a sweet little girl, as she is too," said his wife, +warmly; "she reminded me of our little Polly, John. It made my heart +ache, to think of her being sent to the workhouse. But I'll fetch you +the books." + +She went away in search of them, and her husband was left alone, with +many strange and unwonted thoughts working within his mind. + +"I wonder if it would be a very foolish thing to do," he said to +himself, musing over an idea which had occurred to him; "the old woman +would like it. I reckon she would say 'yes,' in a moment, if I asked +her." + +But whatever project Griffin was pondering, until his own mind was +decided on the subject, he would not venture to lay the proposal before +his wife, whose feelings regarding it he could so well divine. + +Mrs. Griffin soon returned with the books. She placed them before her +husband—a Bible bound in faded purple morocco, with rims and clasp of +tarnished gold, and a rather smaller prayer-book of similar appearance. + +Griffin turned the books over in his hands ere he opened them, +examining the bindings as if he were trying to appraise their value. + +"We shall see what the child's name is here, I reckon," he said, +glancing at the writing on the fly-leaf of the prayer-book. "Can you +find me my glasses, wife?" + +"She said her name was Knight—Maggie Knight," remarked Mrs. Griffin, as +she handed him his spectacles. + +But the name John Griffin read on the fly-leaf was not Knight. +"Margaret Platten, the gift of her mother," were the words written in +faded ink, and below was added a date now more than twenty years old. + +"Platten!" said the old dealer, thoughtfully. "I've never heard that +name before, that I know of. Have you?" + +His wife shook her head, saying, "The child said the books were her +mother's,—that may have been her maiden name," she observed. + +"I tell you what, old woman," said Griffin, in the tone of one who +stated an indisputable fact; "these are the kind of books that +gentlefolks use, and depend upon it I was right when I said that that +widow was a real lady. I knew it as soon as I saw her. There was a way +with her that only the quality has." + +"But she must have been very poor," objected his wife; "the child was +miserably dressed, and I'm sure Mrs. Cook's was a wretched place for a +lady to live at." + +"That may be," returned her husband; "I'm not saying she wasn't poor; +I know well enough she was that; but still I hold that she was one who +had known better days. She was a lady who had come down in the world." + +"Poor soul!" said Mrs. Griffin, in a tone of pity. "And to think that +her child should be sent to the workhouse!" + +Griffin had taken up the Bible, and was looking at it. He knew what the +book was, for Bibles came to him occasionally in the way of business, +but with its contents he was unacquainted. He knew, however, that it +was the Book of God, and that teachers and preachers of righteousness +founded their denunciations of evil upon its doctrines. As he now +carelessly opened it, his eyes were arrested by certain words, which +struck home to his conscience like an arrow sent by a sure hand. He +felt a thrill of fear as he read them: + + "To turn aside the needy from judgment, and to take away the right from +the poor of My people, that widows may be their prey, and that they may +rob the fatherless! And what will ye do in the day of visitation, and +in the desolation which shall come from far? To whom will ye flee for +help? and where will ye leave your glory? Without Me they shall bow +down under the prisoners, and they shall fall under the slain. For all +this His anger is not turned away, but His hand is stretched out still." + +What strange words were these? He had never read any like them. He +could not understand what they meant; but none the less did they +fill his soul with vague dread, and revive the sense of sin which +had disquieted him as he lay on his sick bed, but had become less +vivid with the return of health and strength. One thing was clear +enough. God was angry with those who ill-treated widows or "robbed +the fatherless." And he had done it! He was guilty of this sin before +God. The threatening language of the Book was such as he deserved. He +trembled with the fear of judgment. But he meant well. He had repented. +He had vowed that he would make atonement to the child for the wrong he +had done her mother, and he must do it without delay, for did not God +Himself require it at his hands? + +"Whatever is the matter, John?" asked his wife in alarm, for he had +uttered a heavy groan as he closed the Bible, and pushed it from him. + +"Matter enough," he returned; "wife, what is a man to do, when he has +made a great mistake, and done something very wrong?" + +"Why, the best thing he can do is to try to set it right, I should +say," replied his wife, in surprise; "but you've done nothing very +wrong, John." + +"Yes, I have; I've done a great wrong," he said, firmly; "and I want +you to help me to set it right." + +"Whatever do you mean?" she asked. + +"It's that child I'm thinking of," he said, hurriedly, in a voice +that betrayed agitation; "I cheated her mother shamefully over that +Worcester jug. Yes, I can't call it by a fairer name, it was downright +cheating, and nothing else. The jug was worth at least four pounds, +and I gave her only fifteen shillings for it. She was so poor and +miserable-looking,—half-starved, indeed, she seemed; it was a shame of +me. It's been lying on my conscience ever since." + +For a few moments Mrs. Griffin kept silence, whilst she stared +at her husband in astonishment. His words had brought her sudden +enlightenment. Strange to say, she had not till now once thought of +looking at Griffin's "good bargain" from the widow's point of view. +She deemed it only natural, and quite justifiable, that he should try +to depreciate and beat down to their lowest price the goods which were +offered for sale. Though she had repudiated the idea that money could +yield her any comfort in the event of her husband's death, Mrs. Griffin +had acquired a habit of saving and hoarding, and had always been +pleased to hear that Griffin's business was prospering, and his gains +amounting to a good round sum. But during her husband's illness these +selfish tendencies, the natural outcome of her dull narrow life, had +been checked. + +Little Maggie's visit, awaking the maternal instincts which had long +slumbered in the childless mother's heart, had roused Mrs. Griffin's +better, truer self. Love for a little child has often had power to +change the whole current of a woman's thoughts. It was so with Mrs. +Griffin. She saw the circumstances connected with the purchase of the +jug in quite another light now. + +"To be sure, John, you were hard upon the poor lady," she said, at +length; "I never thought of that before, even though I heard the child +say that the money her mamma got for the jug would not pay the rent and +all they owed. Ah! The poor soul must have wanted money bad enough! It +was a pity you gave her so little. It wouldn't have mattered if she had +been a rich body. It's only right to get as much as you can out of the +rich, I take it; but one shouldn't be hard on a poor widow." + +"It's wrong to pay too little, I reckon, whether it's done to rich or +poor," said John, whose conscience had received enlightenment during +the weary hours of illness; "anyhow, I'm sorry I did it over that jug. +I've repented of that sin at least, and now I'm thinking how I can best +make it up to the little maid." + +"Oh, John!" exclaimed his wife, eager to make a suggestion. + +But he held up his hand to stay her words. + +"Wait a bit, old woman," he said; "hear what I have to say first, +and then we'll see if we're both of one mind. Do you know, I've been +thinking many times of our little Polly, since I was took ill." + +"Ah, so have I, John, often and often," cried his wife, the ready tears +springing to her eyes. + +"How many years is it since the little one died; do you remember?" he +asked. + +"Oh, yes, John; don't you?" she returned, rather reproachfully; "it'll +be one and twenty years come next February." + +"So long ago as that, is it?" he replied, with a sigh, to think how +fast the years of his manhood were vanishing. "And she was nine years +old when she died. She would have been a woman of thirty had she +lived—old enough to be the mother of that little dark-eyed maid." + +Mrs. Griffin looked wonderingly at her husband. She did not understand +to what his words were tending. It was impossible for her to picture +her lost child a grown woman of thirty. To her mother little Polly +would always be—just little Polly. + +"Do you see what I'm driving at, old wife?" asked Griffin, speaking +with much embarrassment and hesitation. "I'm thinking that if our Polly +had died when she was a woman, and left an orphan child behind her, we +should have brought that child up as our own. It might have been just +such another as this little Maggie. Perhaps I'm foolish to trouble +about the child; but the looks of her took my fancy. It do seem a pity +that such a one should go to the workhouse. She's worth taking care of, +for she's real good quality, as any one can see, so if you think we +could do with her here—" + +"Oh, John, John, I see what you mean," exclaimed his wife, eagerly; +"you think we could have her here, and bring her up in little Polly's +place. No, I won't say that; no child could be like our own little +Polly, but you would let her live with us." + +"Would you like that?" he asked. + +"You know I should like it above everything," she replied; "you know +how I love children. But would you like it? Do you really mean it? +For I've heard you say sometimes, and it has cut me to the heart to +hear you say it, John, that it was a good thing we'd got no children, +because p'raps they'd be running in and out of the shop and a-breaking +your china." + +"Did I say that?" he returned. "Well, well, I hope this little maid +wouldn't break things. Any way, we might try the experiment for a week +or two; and then, if we didn't like having her, we could send her away. +Now, what are you a crying for, old woman?" + +"It makes me cry to think of it," said Mrs. Griffin, hastily wiping +her eyes; "it's a good thought of yours, John, and I don't believe +you'll ever repent of it. But there's no time to be lost. It's full a +fortnight since the child was here. Very likely that good-for-nothing +Mrs. Cook has sent her already to the workhouse. If you wouldn't mind +being left alone for a few minutes, Griffin, I'd run round now and +inquire about the child." + +"All right, go along with you, the sooner the better," said old +Griffin; "I shall be very comfortable here till you come back." + +So Mrs. Griffin hurriedly put on her bonnet and shawl, and set off for +Mrs. Cook's. + +John sat alone by the fire, and pondered the rather hasty decision +he had made. Had he done a very foolish thing? It was true, as his +wife had reminded him, that he had often of late years thought it +an advantage that they had no hungry little mouths to feed, and no +restless little hands that might meddle and make mischief amongst his +treasures. He had congratulated himself on the saving of expense and +trouble which this fact involved. + +And now he was about to burden himself with the maintenance of a +strange child,—a little girl of whom he knew nothing, save that she +was of pretty and winning appearance. A few weeks ago he would have +said that it was impossible for him to commit such an act of folly. Yet +he could not regret his decision. As he sat and waited for his wife's +return, which was delayed far beyond the few minutes of which she had +spoken, he felt as eager to take charge of little Maggie as ever he had +felt to secure some rare china cup or antique vase. He wondered at the +strength of this new, strange feeling. + +Well, he had vowed that if he rose from his sick bed he would be a +different man, and this was the beginning of it. He knew not how to +turn right round and start on a new course; but he was feebly groping +towards the light, and in so doing was in a happier, more hopeful state +than when he had walked contentedly in darkness. Though he knew not the +Son of God, nor His claims upon his love, Griffin was already about to +serve Him, for we cannot lay our hand, whether for good or evil, upon +even the least of our human family without touching the Divine Brother +of man Himself. + +And as he sat by the fire, brooding over the past, and resolving to be +a better man in the future, old Griffin found comfort in the words he +had read in the Book: + +"For all this His anger is not turned away, but His hand is stretched +out still." + +Could it be that the hand of God was stretched out to him—a sinful old +man like him? + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VII. + +Christmas Day. + +JOHN GRIFFIN sat long alone, waiting for his wife to return. He grew +uneasy as one quarter of an hour after another passed, and yet she did +not come. It was but a few steps to Mrs. Cook's lodgings, what could be +keeping her so long? + +But at last he heard the sound of a vehicle stopping before the door of +his house, and in a few moments his wife entered, bearing triumphantly +in her arms what appeared to be a large bundle. + +"I've got her, John," was all she said, and then she placed her bundle +lightly on the hearth-rug, and ran back to dismiss the cabman, whom she +had been obliged to employ. + +The bundle stirred after Mrs. Griffin had placed it on the rug. A +little white hand found an opening in the closely-wound shawl; and as +it pushed the wrapping back, John saw a pair of dark eyes looking at +him. + +"How do you do, my dear?" he asked. + +The child smiled faintly, but made no other response. + +Griffin now noticed that her face was pale and wasted, and her eyes +dull and heavy. + +Just then his wife came bustling back. + +"Why, what's the matter with the little maid?" he asked. "Is she bad?" + +"Yes, poor little darling; and no wonder, you'd say, if you saw +the place where I found her," replied Mrs. Griffin, in a tone of +indignation; "a nasty, cold garret, John, close under the roof, with +the wind coming in through the chinks enough to freeze you. And as for +dirt! If you'll believe me, the dust was an inch thick on the floor. +All the poor dear had to lie on was a heap of flocks, and a bit of a +cobweb of a blanket to cover her. Mrs. Cook says the child has been bad +for the last fortnight; but it's my belief that she has half-starved +her. I had to fetch a cab to bring her home in, for she was too weak to +walk, and I'm not strong enough to carry her so far, though 'tis but +a little way. Now, wait a bit, my darling, whilst I get you some nice +good beef-tea." + +Mrs. Griffin talked fast to keep down the emotion which threatened to +overcome her. She now brought a saucepan, and in a few minutes had +warmed over the fire some of the excellent beef-tea which she had made +for her husband. Then, lifting the little girl on to her lap, she +gently fed her with spoonfuls of the warm broth, into which she had +crumbled some bread. + +Griffin leaned forward in his chair to watch the child being fed. To +his joy, Maggie did not refuse the food, but took it with evident +relish. She tried to sit up for a moment, and take a look round the +room; but, weak and dizzy, her head quickly sank back on Mrs. Griffin's +shoulder. + +"Poor little maid!" said old Griffin, tenderly. "Poor little maid!" + +"It was well I went when I did, John," said Mrs. Griffin; "I believe +Mrs. Cook had forgotten the child's existence, and would have left her +to starve. She was in drink as usual, and made high words about being +troubled with beggarly brats." + +Maggie had opened her eyes again on hearing Mrs. Cook's name, and her +face wore a frightened look. + +"You won't send me back to her?" she asked, in a feeble voice. + +"No, that we won't, dear, you may be sure of that," returned Mrs. +Griffin; "you shall never see that horrid woman again, if I can help +it. Poor little dear, see how thin she has grown, Griffin. Still I hope +that all she wants is good nursing and feeding. I'll take her upstairs +now, give her a nice warm bath, and put her to bed." + +Maggie nestled in the old woman's arms with an air of intense +satisfaction, and pressing her to her bosom with a mother's tenderness, +Mrs. Griffin carried her away. + +When John Griffin went upstairs, half-an-hour later, he found Maggie +snugly established in a little bed in a corner of their room. Polly had +been wont to sleep in that cot. It was like a revival of bygone days to +see it occupied once more. + +"Come and look at her, John," said his wife; "she looks so sweet, poor +little darling!" + +Maggie already appeared better for Mrs. Griffin's loving ministrations. +She had dropped asleep almost as soon as she was placed in bed. Her +white face, with dark hollows beneath the eyes, was sad to see; but a +faint smile lingered on her lips, and the smooth forehead, over which +fell dark rings of hair, curling from the bath, had lost its shadow of +fear. + +A lump seemed to rise in Griffin's throat as he looked at her. His eyes +grew dim. + +"It's just as if our Polly had come back to us again," he murmured +hoarsely. + +"Not quite like our own little Polly," replied his wife, jealous for +her child's memory. "But, John, we will be very good to this child for +the sake of our own little Polly." + +"Ay, ay," he returned; and if ever a man meant what he said he did then. + +Mrs. Griffin nursed Maggie tenderly during the next few days, though +her care for the child did not make her neglectful of her husband. But +he was hourly becoming less and less of an invalid. + +Mrs. Griffin was right in her conjecture that all Maggie needed was +love and care. Treated with harshness and neglect, and in constant +dread of blows, the child had sunk into a miserably low state of +mind and body. Crouching for long hours on her comfortless bed in +the garret, to which Mrs. Cook, having let all the better rooms, had +dismissed her, Maggie had sobbed and mourned for the mother, who whilst +she lived had striven so hard to save her child from suffering. Though +often faint for want of food, Maggie had preferred to remain there, +rather than by going downstairs run the risk of encountering Mrs. Cook, +from whom she shrank with the utmost aversion and fear. So low had the +child's strength ebbed, that probably she would have died ere long had +not Mrs. Griffin come to her succour. + +"I am so glad to be here," said little Maggie simply, the next morning, +when old Griffin and his wife stood beside her bed, watching her as +she took her breakfast of bread and milk. "I think God must have sent +you to fetch me. I kept praying to Him; but I thought He had forgotten +me, for I was left all alone, and no one came to me. But He had not +forgotten me, you see, for you came at last." + +"Yes, my dear; and I'll always take care of you,—you need not fear," +said Mrs. Griffin, scarce able to understand this childish expression +of faith, but feeling more and more convinced that Maggie was the +sweetest child she had ever known, except her own little Polly. + +Griffin turned away, conscious of a strange humbling sensation. He was +learning from little Maggie how poor a man he had been in the past. + +It was wonderful how quickly Maggie's child-nature revived under the +sunshine of kindness and love. In a day or two she was running about +the house, still looking pale and thin, it is true, but bright and +happy nevertheless. With the elasticity of childhood, she had already +thrown off the memory of her dark experience, and abandoned herself to +the enjoyment of the pleasanter circumstances in which she now found +herself. + +How strange it was to John Griffin and his wife to hear the child's +happy laugh ring through the house, and the sound of her feet as they +bounded lightly across the floor. + +On the morning of Christmas Day, John Griffin was in his shop, taking +advantage of the holiday to put his things in order. It was a bright, +sunshiny day. There had been a slight hoarfrost at dawn, just enough +to remind the world that it really was winter; but now the sun was as +warm, and the air even milder than on many a spring day. The church +bells rang out with a merry, festive sound, and the streets were +already filling with churchgoers and holidaymakers. + +The dwellers in the lane were not much in the habit of going to church. +On this morn there was more idling and gossiping than on most days; but +the men and women who lounged about the doorways looked no whit more +respectable than usual, and the rough children who played in the road +were as ragged and dirty as ever. Unhappily, the many public-houses +which the lane could boast were already doing a brisk trade. + +It was nothing to old Griffin that this was Christmas Day, except that +he was glad to have leisure to arrange his shop. How could the day be +anything to him, when he was ignorant of the Saviour whose birth it +commemorates? But he liked the sound of the merry bells, and they set +him whistling as he moved about amongst his precious wares. + +Suddenly his wife appeared at the door of the shop. She had an agitated +look as she held up her finger to warn him to be silent. + +"Hush, John," she whispered, as he was about to speak, "I want you to +listen to that dear child. She's singing so prettily, and the very +words that our Polly used to sing. Don't you remember her learning them +at Sunday-school?" + +Griffin came to where his wife stood, and began to listen. + +Little Maggie was in the inner room. Mrs. Griffin had given her a doll +that had been Polly's. It had cost the bereaved mother some sacrifice +of feeling to give into another child's hands the toy which for so +many years she had guarded as a sacred relic; but she had her reward +in seeing Maggie's joy over her gift. Now, as Maggie hushed her dolly +to sleep, she was singing in a sweet, childish treble, the well-known +words: + + "'Around the throne of God in heaven + Thousands of children stand, + Children whose sins are all forgiven— + A holy, happy band— + Singing, glory! glory! glory!'" + +"Oh, John," cried Mrs. Griffin, when Maggie suddenly ceased singing; +"I can't help thinking that perhaps our little Polly is there!" And +covering her face with her apron, she burst into tears. + +"Come, come, old wife," said John, not unkindly, but with an air of +embarrassment, "don't ee take on so over a bit of a song." + +"It doesn't make me unhappy, John," sobbed his wife; "don't think that, +although I am crying. I'd be glad to know she was there. I've always +thought of her dear little body lying in the cold earth; but if I could +have been sure that she was up in heaven, singing with the children +there, I'd have been more comforted about her this long time past." + +"Deary me! Well, maybe it is so," said Griffin, thinking to himself +what queer fancies women take into their heads. + +"John," said his wife, as she wiped her eyes, "little Maggie says that +she would like to go to church. Would you mind if I went for once?" + +"Mind? Of course not," he returned, sharply. "You can please yourself +about it. You can't say that I have ever kept you from going to church." + +"No, but I knew you did not like me to go," said his wife, meekly, as +she went away. + +It was true, as he said, that he had never forcibly prevented her from +going to church, but his influence had been strong enough to restrain +her from doing so. She knew with what contempt he regarded parsons +and churchgoers. She had had hard work to persuade him to allow their +little Polly to attend Sunday-school. Since the child's death, Mrs. +Griffin, from fear of incurring her husband's scorn, had scarcely +ever entered a place of worship, though before that time she had been +accustomed to attend church pretty regularly. + +But on this Christmas Day, though she could plainly see that Griffin +disliked the idea of her going, Mrs. Griffin took little Maggie to a +church at the foot of the hill, up which the child had toiled with her +mother on the last night of her earthly life. Maggie told Mrs. Griffin +how she had come that way before, and talked to her of the mother whom +she had not forgotten, although she was so happy in her new home. + +How old yet new seemed that Christmas morning service to Mrs. Griffin! +It was strange to hear again, after so many years, the familiar story +of a Saviour's coming to redeem the world. The glad tidings had a +sweetness for her now that they had lacked in earlier years. There are +some who have to learn by hard experience what it is to be weary and +heavy-laden, ere they can welcome the gentle sound of the Saviour's, +"Come unto Me!" + +"I'm glad that I went, John," she said to her husband, when she came +back; "it was good to hear the Christmas hymns again. They sang, 'Hark +the herald angels sing!' and 'O come, all ye faithful!' Little Maggie +was delighted. I think I shall go again, for I do believe there's a +blessing comes with going to church." + +In the new hope and joy that the child had brought her, Mrs. Griffin +felt herself lifted above all fear of her husband's sneers. + +Griffin gave a low grunt, the precise meaning of which it would be +difficult to define. He would not admit that his wife was right, yet +something withheld him from uttering words of contempt. + +In the evening, John Griffin again spent some time in his shop; but he +did not stay there very long. His treasures had no longer the first +place in his life. Little Maggie's society had a greater attraction for +him now. He loved to watch her pretty looks and ways; and the more he +observed her, the more he admired the child, and felt his heart going +out in love to her. He was constantly drawing his wife aside to whisper +to her some comment on the child's appearance. + +"Do you note what pretty little feet she has?" he would say. "It's only +amongst the real gentry that you see such an arched instep. And look at +her tiny hands, and those little shell-like ears. She reminds me of a +piece of rare old Sèvres. Depend upon it, she's the best porcelain, or +I don't know a piece when I see it." + +His wife would smile at his words; but she too had her pride in the +child, and was determined to keep her as clean and neat as any lady's +child could be. + +When Griffin went back to the little sitting-room, he found his wife at +work altering a garment of Polly's to make it fit Maggie; whilst the +child sat by her side, with her mother's Bible open on her knee. + +"Oh, John," cried his wife, looking up with a delighted face as her +husband opened the door, "Maggie can read so prettily; do come and +listen to her." + +John sat down and listened. Maggie was reading the old story of the +angels bringing the glad tidings to the shepherds in the fields +at Bethlehem. To Griffin and his wife the child's reading seemed +wonderful. Her mother had taken great pains to teach her to read well, +and she pronounced each word so clearly and correctly, and gave such +pretty expression to what she read, that it was very pleasant to listen +to her. + +John Griffin was not much of a reader. The only book he ever studied +was the well-thumbed handbook on china, which he always spoke of +emphatically as "the book." + +He listened now with wonder and interest as little Maggie read of the +glad tidings of great joy to which his ears had so long been closed. + +"Shall I sing you the hymn that mamma and I always used to sing on +Sunday evenings?" said Maggie as she closed the Bible, pleased that her +reading had been so much appreciated. + +"Yes, do my dear," said Mrs. Griffin. + +And in her sweet childish voice, Maggie sang the simple, touching words: + + "'There is a green hill far away + Without a city wall, + Where the dear Lord was crucified, + Who died to save us all. + + "'We may not know, we cannot tell, + What pains He had to bear; + But we believe it was for us + He hung and suffered there. + + "'He died that we might be forgiven, + He died to make us good, + That we might go at last to heaven, + Saved by His precious blood. + + "'There was no other good enough + To pay the price of sin, + He only could unlock the gate + Of heaven and let us in. + + "'Oh, dearly, dearly has He loved, + And we must love Him too, + And trust in His redeeming blood, + And try His works to do.'" + +"Do you like that?" Maggie asked, when she had finished, feeling +surprised at the silence which followed her song. + +"Yes, it is very pretty, my dear," said Mrs. Griffin, in a voice that +was not quite steady. + +"What does it mean about unlocking the gate of heaven?" asked Griffin, +abruptly. "Where is heaven?" + +Maggie's dark eyes instinctively looked upward. "Where Jesus is," she +said, softly. "Mamma is there now; for she told me that though she had +been a wicked woman, she knew that Jesus had forgiven her sins. And oh, +Mrs. Griffin, your little Polly that you were telling me about this +morning, she must be there too, don't you think? 'Around the throne of +God in heaven,' you know." + +"Maybe she is," murmured Mrs. Griffin, tears that were not all of +sorrow coming into her eyes. "I've been thinking of that." + +"Jesus!" thought old Griffin. "The Lord Jesus Christ of whom the doctor +spoke to me." + +Then aloud, he asked: "Who is Jesus?" + +"Why, don't you know?" exclaimed little Maggie, looking at him in +astonishment. + +"Never mind whether I know, 'you' tell me," returned John Griffin. + +"Jesus is the Son of God, who died for us," said Maggie. + +"Died for us!" repeated old Griffin, wonderingly. "Who do you mean by +'us?'" + +"Us means everybody, of course," said the child: "it means 'you,'" she +added, pointing to the old man; "and 'you,'" pointing to his wife; "and +'me,' and all the people that are in the world." + +"Did He really die for me?" asked Griffin, with a strange tremor in his +voice. + +"Why, yes, I tell you so," said Maggie; "and the hymn says so too." + +"I knew all about it once," remarked Mrs. Griffin, with a deep-drawn +sigh; "but I have not thought of these things for a long time till +to-day." + +"I wish you would sing that song again, my little maid," said John +Griffin, after a few minutes' silence. + +So Maggie sang her hymn again, even more sweetly and clearly than +before. + +Then Mrs. Griffin decided that it was time for Maggie to go to bed, and +led her away, whilst Griffin sat alone with the words ringing in his +ears:— + + "'Oh, dearly, dearly has He loved, + And we must love Him too, + And trust in His redeeming blood, + And try His works to do.'" + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Maud Platten visits the Shop. + +"How very dirty your china looks, Mr. Griffin," said Maggie, coming +into the shop the next morning, "why don't you dust it?" + +"I've no time to dust the things," said the old man, with a smile; +"they come and go too fast to make it worth while to clean them, let +alone the risk of breaking them." + +"I can dust them for you, if you like," suggested the child; "I know +how to dust, for I used to help mamma put the room tidy." + +"No, no, thank you, my dear; they're best left as they are," replied +old Griffin; "you're like all good women folk, fond of cleaning and +putting things straight. But I daren't trust my china in your little +fingers." + +"I should be very careful," said Maggie, rather hurt that her offer of +help should be thus received; "oh, there is mamma's jug!" + +She had caught sight of the old Worcester jug, which Griffin had placed +in a prominent position in the window. Almost before he knew what she +was about, she had it in her hands, and was looking lovingly at the +pictures painted upon it. + +"Oh, what a pity you have let it get so dusty," she cried; "do let me +dust it, Mr. Griffin. I know just how mamma used to do it." + +"Very well, let me see how you can dust it," said John Griffin, with a +smile; "the wife will give you a cloth, if you ask her." + +Maggie bounded away, and soon returned duster in hand, and a look of +proud importance on her face. + +"Mind you are very careful," said the dealer, who was not without +anxiety as he saw the jug in Maggie's hands; "that jug is worth a sight +of money." + +"Is it? How much?" asked Maggie, promptly. + +Old Griffin turned away, and did not reply. There was a flush of shame +on his face, for the child's question reminded him of the wrong he had +done her mother. + +"Mamma did not want to sell the jug," said Maggie, heedless that her +question remained unanswered; "she liked it so much, and she had had it +ever since she was a little girl. But she had no money to buy anything +with, so that she was glad you gave her some for it. She said you were +a good old man." + +[Illustration: A PLEASANT DUTY.] + +"She was wrong there," said old Griffin. + +"What do you mean?" asked little Maggie, in a tone of innocent +surprise. "Aren't you a good man, Mr. Griffin?" + +"No, no," he said, hastily; "I'm far from being good." + +Little Maggie looked troubled. "But you mean to be good, don't you?" +she said, after a minute. "You'll try?" + +"I'd like to be good," said old Griffin, in an undertone. + +Maggie seemed satisfied with this admission, and now turned all her +attention to the jug, which she was carefully polishing. + +"There now!" she exclaimed, presently, holding it up for admiration. +"Doesn't it look a deal better than it did?" + +"Yes, indeed, you've made it look fine," returned the old man; "now +mind how you put it down." + +"May I dust it every day?" asked Maggie as she replaced the jug in the +window. + +"If you'll always be very careful with it," he replied. + +After this Maggie never neglected to dust the Worcester jug. She took +both pride and pleasure in the self-imposed duty, for the jug was fully +as precious to her as to the china-dealer, though she set a different +sort of value upon it. + +Maggie spent many an hour with old Griffin in his shop, and proved +such a pleasant companion that he, who had formerly been so afraid of +a child's intrusion into his sanctum, was now never so happy as when +Maggie was with him. He taught her to call him grandfather, and treated +her in all respects as his grandchild. Strange talks they had together, +in which the old man learned many a deep though simple truth from the +lips of the little girl. + +Sometimes Maggie would sing to him, whilst he was engaged in mending +china. Of all her songs, the one which he loved best to hear was that +which told of "a green hill far away, without a city wall." Maggie +sang it so often to him and his wife, that they soon knew the words by +heart, yet they did not grow weary of them. + +One day Maggie was with old Griffin in his shop, when a chaise drove up +to the door, from which a gentleman got down, and then waited to assist +a lady to alight. + +"It's Dr. Thornton," said John Griffin, looking through the window, +"and he's got a young lady with him." + +In another moment the doctor and Maud Platten came into the shop. + +"How are you, Griffin?" said Dr. Thornton. "This is not a professional +visit. I've brought a lady to see your curiosities. I told her you +would be happy to show them to her." + +"She's kindly welcome, sir," said the old dealer; "I'm always glad for +people to see my things, whether they are going to buy or not. It ain't +much that I've got to show, still there's some nice pieces here. Be +careful how you walk, please, miss, we haven't much room to spare." + +"Why, who is this, Griffin?" asked Dr. Thornton, as his gaze fell on +little Maggie, who stood with eyes fixed on the young lady, whose +pretty dress and far prettier face called forth the child's strongest +admiration. "I did not know you had a little girl." + +"She's my grandchild, sir," said old Griffin, shortly; "she has lost +her parents, and has come to live with us." + +"Oh, indeed! She will be a nice little companion for you and your +wife," said the doctor, as he laid his hand caressingly on the child's +curly head. + +Griffin had determined that he would give no explanation but this +to any one who questioned him concerning Maggie. He had adopted the +child as a grand-daughter, and he did not see that there was any harm +in allowing people to suppose that she really was related to him. +Naturally a reserved man in all matters connected with his private +history, he was unwilling that any one should know the circumstances +which had led him to take Maggie into his home. Mrs. Cook, of course, +could tell folks what she knew, but his customers and acquaintance were +not likely to come in contact with Mrs. Cook. + +"What a dear little girl!" said Maud Platten, turning from the vase to +which Griffin had directed her attention, to look at little Maggie. +"What lovely dark eyes she has!" + +The moment before she spoke, Leslie Thornton had been observing, +certainly not for the first time, the beauty of her eyes. Turning now +to look at the child, he was struck with a certain resemblance between +her and Maud. Both had large, dark, liquid eyes; but there was a +serious, almost sad look lurking in the depths of the child's eyes, of +which the bright laughing orbs of the woman showed no sign. + +Maggie's face glowed with joy as she heard the lady's kind words; and +when Maud stooped and lightly kissed her cheek, the child felt as happy +as possible. She kept close to the young lady as she moved cautiously +through the narrow lane between the piled-up goods, examining one thing +after another with a bright, intelligent interest that gladdened old +Griffin's heart as, growing eloquent, he discoursed on the merits of +his china, and gave her a full and particular history of each specimen +which he brought to her notice. + +Dr. Thornton bought some rare old plates to adorn the walls of +his drawing-room; and then, having stayed in the shop for nearly +half-an-hour, the lady and gentleman wished the old china-dealer and +his grandchild, "good day," and took their departure. + +"Isn't she lovely, grandfather?" said Maggie, standing at the door to +watch the chaise drive down the lane. "I never saw any one so pretty. +And her voice was so soft and sweet. I'm so glad she kissed me." + +"Like to like," said old Griffin to himself. "The child belongs to +gentlefolks, and she takes to gentlefolks." + +"I fancy that we shall hear before long that Dr. Thornton is married," +he said, aloud. + +"What! To that pretty lady!" cried Maggie, joyfully. "Why do you think +so?" + +The old man's eyes twinkled merrily behind his thick-rimmed +spectacles—"I saw a many things that made me think so, Maggie," he said. + + +A fortnight later old Griffin knew that this conjecture was correct. +Walking through the streets of Plymouth one morning, he heard the bells +of the old church ringing noisily; and when curiosity moved him to +inquire the meaning of their merry din, he was told that the bells were +ringing because Dr. Thornton had been married that morning to Colonel +Platten's daughter. + +"Colonel Platten's daughter?" said old Griffin, in a tone of +interrogation. "Who may Colonel Platten be?" + +"Why, surely you know the old colonel, who lives up at the top of +Lockyer Street?" said his informant. + +"No, I don't know him," said Griffin; "he has never done business with +me. Dr. Thornton has, though, and I think I have seen the young lady +who is his bride. Well, I wish them joy,—for he's a good man, the +doctor is. I shan't soon forget how he brought me through that illness +of mine." + +As he went on his way John Griffin said to himself—"Colonel Platten! +How strange that the name should be the same as that in my little +maid's books. I wish I had asked how it was spelt. There can't be +anything in it though, surely." + +John Griffin now always thought and spoke of Maggie as his "little +maid." The child grew dearer and dearer to his heart. He counted her +his most precious possession. Nor did his wife fail to show as much +love for the child. Maggie's coming had brought light and joy to the +home of the old couple. Mrs. Griffin's face had lost its melancholy +look, and wore quite a new expression as she attended to the child's +wants, making and mending for her with an ardour which made the tasks +their own reward. + +Though Griffin still took a great delight in his old china, a delight +which he taught Maggie to share, his life was no longer buried in his +business. Sometimes, as the spring advanced, he would close the shop at +an early hour, that he might take his "little maid" and his "old woman" +for a walk by the sea. It would be difficult to say who enjoyed those +walks the most,—little Maggie, who had such delight in seeing the waves +break upon the rocks, or in gathering shells and sea-weed, which by +diligent search might be discovered on the beach, or the two old people +who found their pleasure in watching hers. + +Mrs. Griffin generally took Maggie to church on Sunday mornings; and, +though Griffin would not accompany them, he said not a word against +their going. He would even seem interested in Maggie's childish account +of the service and the singing. And he was always willing to hear +Maggie read from her mother's Bible, and sing the hymn which her mother +had taught her. + +Thus, from the lips of a little child, the old man gradually learned to +know and love and trust the Son of Man, who died for him, and began to +try, though but feebly and imperfectly, to do His works. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IX. + +The Worcester Jug finds a Purchaser. + +CHRISTMAS was again drawing near. It was almost a year since little +Maggie came to John Griffin's home, and he and his wife held her as +dear as if she had always belonged to them, when one afternoon Colonel +Platten, on his return from a visit to Stoke, passed through the lane +in which the old china-dealer lived. What had brought him that way he +could scarcely tell; and as he walked along, with his upright, military +carriage and proud, stern face, he looked with disdain on the dingy +tenements and strange, uninviting shops on either side the way. + +Though he still maintained his soldierly bearing, the colonel was +beginning to be painfully conscious of increasing years. He felt +himself, too, to be a lonely as well as an old man. Since his +daughter's marriage, his home had seemed to him a dreary, desolate +place; for his boys were often away, and then the large, well-furnished +rooms, empty and silent, had a comfortless, lonesome feeling. He had +long retired from the army, and without occupation, he found time hang +heavily on his hands. He knew that he was sure of a welcome at his +daughter's home, but he shrank from intruding too often on the young +couple. Besides, young Mrs. Thornton appeared to find a variety of +engagements and pleasures in her new estate, and had not much leisure +to bestow upon her father. + +So Colonel Platten was returning home on this winter afternoon with no +pleasurable anticipations. The day was gloomy, and his thoughts were +suited to it. He was brooding over the dulness and weariness of his +present life, when suddenly his eye was caught by an object which in a +moment recalled with startling vividness certain earlier, brighter days +lying far back in his history. + +He was passing the old curiosity shop, and it was the Worcester jug +that arrested his attention, still occupying a conspicuous place +amid the many articles in the window. Its appearance struck him as +familiar. As he glanced at it, he thought it remarkably like a certain +jug that had belonged to his first wife. It was a family relic which +had descended to her, and she had guarded it with care, taking great +pride in its beauty and antiquity. He had been wont to see it stand +on a chiffonier in his wife's drawing-room, in company with certain +Oriental bowls and plates, then just coming into demand as fashionable +ornaments. After his wife's death he had allowed his daughter to +consider these curiosities as her own property, and to his annoyance +the girl had taken with her the greater part of the old china, amongst +it the Worcester jug, when she wilfully quitted her father's house, and +by so doing incurred his lasting displeasure. + +The old colonel felt startled at seeing again, as he fancied, this +jug which had belonged to the daughter whom he had cast off and +forgotten,—no, not forgotten,—he had found it impossible to forget her, +though he had striven to do so. Of late the thought of the child whom +he had dearly loved, ay, and still loved—for love will not soon die, +though we do our best to kill it—had constantly haunted his mind. He +had even secretly endeavoured to find out if she were still living, +but his efforts to trace her had proved of no avail. How he would act +in the event of his discovering her, he had not yet decided. He would +not own to himself that he was ready to forgive her; but he felt an +irrepressible longing for some tidings of her. So it was little wonder +that he started and grew pale and tremulous at the sight of that old +Worcester jug. + +He went close to the window and looked at it with an eager gaze. Yes, +it seemed exactly the same. But he must examine it more closely. So the +tall stately colonel strode into the shop, and by an impatient tap of +his cane on the floor quickly brought Griffin to the spot. + +"What can I do for you, sir?" asked the old china-dealer. + +"I want to look at that jug that you have in the window," said the +gentleman. + +Griffin reached the jug with alacrity. He was anxious to find a +purchaser for it. It had remained on his hands for some time, because +he was determined to have his price for it, and had refused several +offers which he considered too low. It was not on his own account that +he was anxious to make so large a sum by it. He had long resolved that +whatever money the jug might fetch should be Maggie's. + +"That's the jug you mean, sir?" he said, as he placed it in the +colonel's hands. "Real old Worcester, and quite perfect too." + +Colonel Platten's hands trembled as he turned the jug round and round, +and examined it closely. As far as his recollection served him it might +be the very same jug. + +"It is strange," he said; "this jug seems to be exactly similar to one +which I had once in my possession." + +"Did you lose it, sir, or was it broke?" asked the dealer, looking +greatly interested in the answer. + +"I lost it, or at least it was removed from my house," said the +colonel, stiffly. "I am wondering whether this may by any possibility +be the same. Can you tell me if it is an unusual thing to find two jugs +of this kind of exactly the same shape and pattern?" + +"A most unusual thing, I should say, sir," replied Griffin, with the +air of one whose opinion was of weight; "you see, this is a very old +jug, considerably more than a hundred years old, I should think. These +pictures and flowers were painted by hand. It's quite a work of art, +as one may call it, sir. There may have been many jugs made after a +similar design; but I don't suppose there was ever one painted exactly +like it. You're sure the pictures are the same, sir?" + +"Yes, I know them well," replied the colonel, with a deep-drawn sigh; +"will you tell me how this jug came into your possession?" + +"There's the old Worcester mark, you see, sir," said John Griffin, +turning the jug bottom upwards, and choosing to ignore for a moment the +question for which he was not quite prepared; "do you remember if that +was on the jug you had?" + +"Yes, I believe so; I seem to recognize it," said Colonel Platten, +curtly; "but will you be good enough to answer my question?" + +He spoke in the severe, commanding tone of one accustomed to be obeyed. +But, though his imperious manner might draw forth words, it failed to +elicit the truth. + +His resentment of the colonel's tone strengthened Griffin's first +impulse to withhold all information concerning the purchase of the jug, +and the child, whom it had been the indirect means of introducing to +his home. + +"You want to know how it came into my possession, sir?" he said, +deliberately. "Let me see. I bought it of some one, I suppose; but it's +a long time agone now." + +"Will you try to remember of whom you bought it?" asked the colonel, in +a tone of eager earnestness. + +"Really, sir, I can't say," returned old Griffin. "I need have the +brain of a Philadelphia lawyer to remember all the folks as comes to me +with china to sell." + +"Then you cannot explain how this jug came into your hands?" said the +colonel. + +Griffin stubbornly shook his head. He was not going to tell this fine, +proud gentleman all about his little Maggie, if he knew it. + +The colonel looked very disappointed. + +"Will you buy the jug, sir?" asked the china-dealer. + +"Yes, I will buy it," said Colonel Platten; "what is the price?" + +"Five guineas, sir," said old Griffin; "this sort of china is very rare +now, and I cannot ask less." + +"I daresay it is worth it," said the gentleman, absently, and drawing +some money from his pocket, he paid the sum forthwith. "Send it to my +house as soon as possible, if you please,—Colonel Platten's, Lockyer +Street." + +And the colonel turned and left the shop without seeing the startled, +confused look which came to the old man's face as his customer gave his +name. + + +Colonel Platten! The same name as that written in his little maid's +books. Then no doubt that jug was the very one which the colonel had +missed. But how had it come into the possession of the poor widow of +whom he had purchased it so cheaply? Had she stolen it and the books, +too, from the colonel's house? No, he could not believe it of her. She +was a lady, he was sure of that. He remembered that she had spoken of +the jug as a family relic. Could it be that she was related to the old +colonel? What a mystery it all seemed, to be sure! Perhaps if he had +told the colonel the truth about the jug, he would have claimed little +Maggie as belonging to him. As he thought this, Griffin said to himself +that he was glad he had kept back the truth. He could not bear to think +of losing the child whom he held so dear. + +But Griffin could not long congratulate himself on the deception he had +practised. His conscience awoke, and began to trouble him. A year ago +he would have seen no harm in concealing by evasive words a fact he did +not wish to confess. But of late he had been learning of the Son of +Man, and trying to do His works. A sense of shame came over him as he +realised how readily and unwittingly he had fallen into the power of +temptation. He had wronged both God and man by telling a lie. + +Unhappily, John Griffin tried to find excuses for what he had done. The +colonel's manner had been so unpleasant that he was naturally provoked +by it. It was surely well for Maggie that he had kept silence. The +little maid was perfectly happy with him and his wife; she would not +welcome any change that should remove her from their home. + +But though he tried hard to convince himself that he had not after +all done anything so very bad, old Griffin could not feel at ease +concerning the matter. He was alone in the house, his wife having gone +to Devonport to see a friend, and taken Maggie with her, so he had +plenty of leisure to reflect upon what he had done. + +At last, he resolved that when he carried the jug to Colonel Platten's +house that evening, he would ask to see the colonel, and fully explain +to him the circumstances under which it had come into his possession. +Having thus resolved to do the right thing, old Griffin's mind was +relieved of its burden. + +When Mrs. Griffin and Maggie had come home, and the child, sleepy and +tired, was being put to bed, Griffin set off to carry the Worcester jug +to Colonel Platten's. He had said nothing to his wife about his having +sold it, feeling unwilling to hear her discuss the matter that night. + +As he went along, Griffin was rehearsing in his mind all he would say +to the colonel. But he might have spared himself the trouble, for when +he reached the house he was informed that Colonel Platten was not at +home; so all he could do was to leave the jug and come away. + +"Well, I meant to tell him," he muttered to himself as he went down +the street; "it's not my fault if he's not at home." And he tried to +persuade himself that he had done enough, and might now let the matter +rest. + +It was a keen winter's night. The wind blew from the north, and was icy +cold. Griffin buttoned his coat tightly around him, but the sharp blast +caught his breath and chilled him through and through. As he struggled +on, panting and wheezing, he was painfully conscious that old age was +coming upon him apace. When he reached home, his wife chid him for +going out on such a night without his woollen comforter. She gave him +some warm posset, hoping thus to ward off the effects of exposure; but +Griffin had caught a severe cold, which rapidly developed, in spite of +all her precautions. + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER X. + +Maggie goes to the Doctor's House. + +ALTHOUGH when he awoke the next morning he felt very poorly, John +Griffin insisted on rising and going about his work as usual. He had +not been long in the shop, when little Maggie ran in, duster in hand, +ready for her self-appointed duty. But, turning to the spot where the +jug had always stood, she was surprised to find its place empty. + +"Oh, grandfather," she exclaimed, "what have you done with my jug? I +can't see it anywhere." + +"Why, I've actually sold it at last, Maggie," he replied; "what do you +think of that?" Though Griffin had felt rather doubtful how the child +would take this news, he was not prepared to see such dismay as her +face now expressed. + +"Sold it?" she cried. "Sold mamma's pretty jug! Oh, grandfather, you +don't mean that you have done 'that?'" + +"But, my dear, you knew the jug was for sale, did you not?" replied +the china-dealer. "I put it in the window hoping some one would take a +fancy to it and buy it." + +"Yes, I knew that; but I did not think you would really sell it," +replied the child, inconsistently; "and oh, how could you sell it and +send it away without ever telling me? Now I shall never be able to dust +it any more." And Maggie burst into tears, and began to sob in the +hearty, unrestrained way which gives such relief in childish sorrows. + +The sight of her distress made old Griffin miserable. He had never seen +Maggie cry thus before, and he felt as if he were a monster of cruelty. + +"Come, come, Maggie; don't take on so," he said. "I did not think you +would be so silly. Don't you want to know how much money I got for +the jug? Look here," he added, opening a drawer as he spoke, "here +it is—five bright sovereigns and five bright shillings! And it's all +yours, Maggie; I don't mean to touch a penny of it. Isn't that better +than keeping the jug?" + +"No, I don't care for the old money!" cried Maggie, passionately. "I +would much rather have had the jug. I wish the money were all at the +bottom of the sea, rather than you should have sold the jug." + +"Now, Maggie, you are a naughty girl," said Griffin, losing patience +with her as her sobs redoubled in intensity; "you know I did it for +your good, and it's very ungrateful of you to make such a fuss. I can't +have you here, if you're going to make that noise; you'll frighten all +my customers away." + +It was the first time John Griffin had spoken to her so sharply; +and, startled by the change in his manner, and not without a dim +consciousness that she really was a very naughty girl, Maggie went +sobbing to tell her grief to Mrs. Griffin. + +Left by himself, Griffin felt almost as unhappy as the child. Many +things combined to make him feel ill at ease. His bodily discomfort was +considerable, and he had the fear of an illness before him; whilst his +mind persistently dwelt on the Worcester jug, and the way in which he +had deceived Colonel Platten regarding it. Yet he could not immediately +resolve to set the wrong right, for the fear of losing his "little +maid" caused him to shrink from telling her story to the colonel. + +The sound of Maggie's sobs came to Griffin's ears from the inner room, +and as he heard them he said to himself: "Poor little maid, I am afraid +I was too hard on her. I did not think her heart was so set upon the +jug." + +At last the sound of sobbing died away, and there was stillness in +the house. After a while Griffin heard a light step coming along the +passage; then the door of the shop was pushed a little way open, and +Maggie timidly looked in. + +"Come in, my dear; don't be afraid," said old Griffin, encouragingly. + +Maggie crept gently to his side, and said in a voice still suggestive +of tears: "Grandfather, I'm sorry I was so naughty to you just now; +will you forgive me?" + +Old Griffin bent down and kissed her. "Of course, my dear, of course," +he said; "don't think any more of what I said. I'm a cross old man, +especially when I feel as I do this morning." + +As he spoke, John Griffin thought that perhaps he ought to ask Maggie's +forgiveness, for he could not feel sure that he had not wronged her a +second time with respect to the old Worcester jug. + +"Do you feel very bad?" asked the child, gently. + +"Bad enough," returned the old man; "I can't breathe without pain. But +there, there! It's no use making a fuss." + +But, unwilling though he was to make a fuss, ere evening came old +Griffin was forced to give in and own that he felt very ill. + +Mrs. Griffin was greatly alarmed to find her husband assailed by a +similar attack to that from which he had suffered so severely twelve +months before. + +"I am afraid he is going to be very ill," she said to Maggie, when she +came downstairs from her husband's room, having done everything which +her wisdom could suggest to check the progress of the mischief; "I wish +Dr. Thornton could see him. I wonder who would fetch him for me?" + +"I'll go, granny," cried Maggie, eagerly; "I know where Dr. Thornton +lives. Grandfather showed me the house one day, when we were coming +from the Hoe." + +"Wouldn't you be afraid to go?" asked Mrs. Griffin. "It's getting late. +I scarcely like to let you." + +"Oh, I am not a bit afraid," said Maggie; "I'll run very fast all the +way, and I'll ask Dr. Thornton to come as quickly as possible." + +"Well, I don't know what to say," replied Mrs. Griffin, divided between +anxiety for her husband and fear for the child's safety; "you'll +promise me to be very careful in crossing the roads?" + +"Yes, yes," said Maggie, accepting this as consent, and hastily putting +on her hat. + +Mrs. Griffin hesitated no longer, but pinning a warm shawl round the +child, despatched her to fetch the doctor. + +Maggie ran quickly up the lane, and in a marvellously short time +arrived breathless at the doctor's door. + +"Is Dr. Thornton at home, please?" she asked of the servant who opened +the door. + +"No, he is not," she replied; "but we expect him every moment. Won't +you come in, and wait till he comes?" + +It seemed to Maggie that this was the best thing to do under the +circumstances, so she stepped into the hall, and seated herself on the +chair to which the servant pointed. + +The interior of the doctor's house looked bright and pleasant to the +child's eyes. She observed with pleasure the coloured oil-cloth, the +pretty stair-carpet, with its glittering rods, and the cunningly +devised lamp that hung from the ceiling. But presently a fairer sight +than any of these objects gladdened Maggie's eyes. A fairy-like vision +appeared on the staircase—a young lady, dressed in dazzling white, with +bright ornaments on her neck and wrists, and flowers in her hair. She +ran lightly down the steps; then, startled at seeing Maggie, she stood +for a moment looking wonderingly at her. + +Maggie recognized her as the pretty lady whom Dr. Thornton had brought +to see John Griffin's curiosities. She was looking lovelier than ever +now, with a bright flush on her cheeks, her dark eyes shining like +gems, and her coral lips slightly parted, as she stood by the child's +side breathing rapidly. + +"Why are you waiting here, little girl?" she asked. + +"I am waiting for the doctor," replied Maggie; "I want him to come to +grandfather; he is very ill." + +"I do not think he will be able to come to-night," said the young lady; +"won't to-morrow do as well?" + +"Oh no! It would be so much better if the doctor could come to-night," +said Maggie; "he is really very ill, he can hardly breathe." + +Maud Thornton drew a short, impatient sigh. "What is your name?" she +asked. "I fancy I have seen you before. I seem to know your face." + +"I am Maggie, Mr. Griffin's little girl,—Mr. Griffin of the old +curiosity shop, you know." + +"Ah, to be sure, 'that' place. I remember now that I saw you there when +we bought our plates. And so Mr. Griffin is ill?" + +Maggie was about to reply, when the hall door was suddenly opened by a +latch-key, and the doctor came in. + +Mrs. Thornton shivered and shrank before the breath of cold air that +entered with him. + +The doctor's first glance fell on his wife, and he exclaimed in +astonishment at her appearance: + +"My dear! Dressed like that, you are not going out to-night?" + +"But I am, Leslie," she replied, in a tone of determination; "have you +forgotten Mrs. Thompson's ball?" + +"No, dear, I have not forgotten it," he replied, gently; "but I told +you this morning that I thought you ought not to go. After being so +ill for the last three days, you are running a very serious risk in +venturing out this bitter night in that thin dress, and to a ball of +all places. I hoped you had given up the idea of going." + +"Then you were very much mistaken," she replied; "do you think I can +give up so easily a pleasure I have been counting on for weeks? And as +for my having been very ill, you know it was only a cough and a pain +at my side. But you doctors like to make a grand fuss over nothing. I +would never have married a doctor had I known what fidgety husbands +they make." + +A look of pain crossed Leslie's face. "Don't say that, love," he said, +"I can't bear to hear you say it, even in jest. You must go to-night +if your heart is set upon it; but pray put on plenty of wraps, and be +very careful. If we doctors are fidgety, it is because we know to what +serious consequences a neglected cold may lead." + +As he spoke, Dr. Thornton turned to put down his hat, and for the first +time became aware of Maggie's presence. + +"What little girl is this?" he asked in surprise. + +"Oh, she waited to see you," replied his wife; "her grandfather is ill. +But don't go there to-night," she added, in a whisper; "I want you to +get ready at once to accompany me to Mrs. Thompson's." + +"If the man is very ill, I must go to-night," said Leslie. Then turning +to Maggie, he asked, "What is your grandfather's name, my child?" + +"John Griffin," answered Maggie. + +"What, John Griffin of the china shop? Is he ill again? I'm sorry for +that. I hope it's nothing serious." + +"Yes, please, sir, he's very bad," said Maggie, solemnly; "and Mrs. +Griffin told me to say that she would be very much obliged to you if +you would come as soon as possible." + +"I'll come almost directly," said the doctor; "you run home now, I +shall be there nearly as soon as you are." + +Mrs. Thornton walked into the dining-room with a frown on her pretty +face. "It's always thus," she said to herself, angrily; "he never +can go anywhere with me! I wish he were not a doctor. But I will go +to-night, if I go by myself." + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XI. + +Colonel Platten receives a Strange Request. + +THE doctor found John Griffin even worse than Maggie's words had led +him to expect. The old man lay with flushed, anxious face, breathing +heavily, each breath costing him severe pain. Dr. Thornton spoke kindly +and soothingly to him, and stayed long beside his bed, doing all he +could to relieve his sufferings. Ere he left, his patient seemed +a little easier, but nevertheless Dr. Thornton went away with the +conviction that old Griffin would not struggle through this attack as +he had through the former one. + +And now, as in that other illness, John Griffin had a burden of sin +upon his mind, which he pondered in hours of pain and sleeplessness. +Again he resolved that with returning health he would take an early +opportunity of setting right the wrong he had done. + +But several days passed, and he grew no better. + +Fresh symptoms and complications presented themselves, baffling the +doctor's skill. He came every day to see the old man, and did his +utmost for him; but, after a while, his visits became shorter and +shorter, and Mrs. Griffin wondered at the change she observed in the +doctor's appearance. It struck her that he was looking almost as ill as +his patient, and his manner had grown so quiet, that he scarce said an +unnecessary word. + +Even Maggie felt the change in him, and shrank back in awe at the sight +of his grave, pale face. He never stopped to speak to her now before +leaving the house; he did not even pat her on the head if he met her on +the stairs. + +He came into the house, examined his patient, prescribed for him, and +then took his departure with an automaton-like precision. What could +have wrought such a change in the kind-hearted, genial doctor? + +Ere long, an acquaintance coming in to inquire for the invalid, gave +Mrs. Griffin a sufficient explanation. "Have you heard?" she asked. +"That Dr. Thornton's wife is very ill, and not expected to live? They +say she caught cold at a ball, and has got inflammation of the lungs. +Won't it be sad if he loses her? For they haven't been married a year +yet." + +When Mrs. Griffin knew this, she could no longer wonder at the doctor's +grave, silent demeanour. She thought that it was very good of him to +come every day to see Griffin, and do so much for him, whilst he was in +sore trouble about his dear young wife. + +Little Maggie was very grieved to hear the news. She could not bear to +think that the "pretty lady," whose visit to the shop had given her +such delight, and who had looked so lovely when she saw her in her own +home, should be ill. She prayed every day that God would soon make +her grandfather well; now she added to her prayer a similar request +concerning the "pretty lady." + +At last, one day, Dr. Thornton came to the house looking quite a +different man. He entered with a light, quick step; and his face, +though still pale and worn, had a bright and happy expression. + +Maggie peeped out of the shop at the sound of his entrance, and seeing +this change in his appearance, the child ventured to address him. + +"Good-morning, Dr. Thornton," she said; "is your wife better?" + +"Yes, thank you, Maggie; she is very much better, I am thankful to +say," he replied, with a bright smile; "I hope she will soon recover +now." And in his gratitude for the child's sympathy, he stooped and +gave her a kiss. + +"I'm very glad to hear that," said Maggie, smiling; "do you think my +grandfather will soon get better too?" + +The doctor's look changed. "I don't know, I hope so," he said, and went +hurriedly upstairs. + +As he entered the sick room, the doctor saw a great change in old +Griffin's appearance. He knew then that there would be no getting +better for his patient. The end was drawing near. + +The old man was sleeping, and Dr. Thornton would not have him roused. +Perhaps in this deep sleep, which seemed so restful, he would pass away. + +Dr. Thornton beckoned Mrs. Griffin from the room, and tried to prepare +her for what might soon happen. She had long felt that thus it would +be, yet her grief, when told that all hope was at an end, was bitter +indeed. Her sorrow touched Dr. Thornton keenly, contrasting as it did +with his own joyous relief from fear and anxiety. + +But though she broke down utterly at first, Mrs. Griffin soon recovered +herself, and put her grief aside for the sake of the loved sufferer. +She went back with a calm though sorrow-stricken face to take her place +beside her husband's bed. + +Presently little Maggie stole into the room, and sat down on the other +side of the bed. She had often sat there during old Griffin's illness. +He liked to know that his "little maid" was near him. Sometimes, when +he felt a little better, she had read to him from her mother's Bible, +or sung him the hymn which he liked so well to hear. + +Whilst they sat thus, John Griffin suddenly opened his eyes, and looked +round first at his wife, and then at Maggie. + +"Both here!" he said, with a smile. "That's right." + +"So you're awake at last, John," said his wife, coming forward to give +him some nourishment; "the doctor's been here, but he would not wake +you because you was so sound asleep." + +"What did the doctor say about me?" asked the old man. + +Mrs. Griffin knew not how to reply. She shrank from telling him what +the doctor had said. But old Griffin saw her hesitation, and could +guess its meaning. + +"I know, my wife, I know," he said, faintly; "I have not long to live. +I don't want the doctor to tell me that. But there is something to be +done ere I die. I must repent and forsake my sins, or the Lord will not +forgive me. I must try to undo the wrong I have done my little maid." + +"You wronged Maggie!" exclaimed his wife, in astonishment. "Why, John, +what do you mean? You've been as good to her as if she were your own +child!" + +"Why, grandfather, what can you be thinking of?" put in Maggie, +hastily. "You've always been good to me, so good and kind." + +"I've meant to be good to you, Maggie," he murmured; "but I've wronged +you nevertheless, though 'twas my love for you led me to do it. It was +all along of that Worcester jug. Will you do something for me, Maggie?" + +"Of course I will,—anything!" she cried. + +"Then I want you to go to Colonel Platten, the gentleman who bought the +jug of me. He lives in a large house at the top of Lockyer Street. Any +one will show you the house. Give him my duty, and beg him to come to +me at once. Say that I have something of importance to tell him. It is +about the Worcester jug. Lose no time, my child, for I have little to +count on now." + +Maggie went without another word, and made all the haste she could. The +short December day was drawing to a close as she sped quickly up the +lane on her way to Lockyer Street. As she went her heart was heavy with +the thought that soon her adopted grandfather must die and leave her, +and that perhaps this would be the last errand on which she would run +for him. + +Maggie had no difficulty in finding the colonel's house. The first +tradesman's boy she met in the street could direct her to it. With a +feeling of awe she recognized the house as that outside which she had +stood so long with her mother on that bitter winter's night a year ago. + +Pushing back the gate, Maggie hurried to the front door, and rang the +bell sharply. + +A servant appeared in answer to her summons, who was about to scold +Maggie for startling the house by such a loud peal; but the child's +pale, anxious face stayed her anger. + +"Please I want to see Colonel Platten," said Maggie, breathlessly. + +"Then you can't," replied the servant, "for he is not at home." + +"Not at home!" exclaimed Maggie, in a tone of despair. "Oh, what shall +I do?" + +"Is it anything so very particular?" said the servant, struck by the +child's look and manner. "Can't you leave a message with me?" + +"Oh, no, I must see him," said Maggie; "it is very important, and it +may soon be too late." + +"Then you had better go to Dr. Thornton's," said the servant; "the +colonel is most likely there. Do you know where the doctor lives?" + +Maggie only replied by a nod, as she darted through the gate, and ran +at full speed in the direction of Dr. Thornton's house. + +"Whatever can she want?" said the servant. + +Maggie found the colonel at Dr. Thornton's house, as she had been led +to expect. He was sitting in his daughter's sick room, when a servant +came to tell him that a little girl was below, very anxious to speak +with him. + +"A little girl to see me!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "You must be +making a mistake. It is surely the doctor she wants." + +"No, sir, she asked for Colonel Platten. She says she comes from John +Griffin, who keeps an old curiosity shop. She said you would know who +he was." + +"Oh, I know," said a weak voice from the couch, where Maud was sitting +up supported by pillows, "I know the child. She is the sweetest little +thing. Let her come up here, papa; I should like to see her." + +"My dear Maud, do you think that is wise?" remonstrated her father. +"The girl has probably come on some begging errand. Why should you +fatigue yourself by listening to her story?" + +"It won't fatigue me, papa, and I'm sure she's no beggar," returned +Maud; "do let her come. I am tired of lying here and seeing nobody." + +Colonel Platten thought this one of the strangest of his daughter's +many strange whims, but he judged it best not to oppose it. + +"Very well, my dear, it shall be as you wish," he said, and bade the +servant bring the child up. + +Maggie's appearance as she entered the sick room was not at all such as +the colonel expected to see. He saw a pretty, dark-eyed child, dressed +in neat, trim style, who came in with a quiet, composed manner, only +her flushed cheeks and rapid breathing betraying the excitement she +felt. In an instant the colonel's thoughts were carried back over many +years, to the days when just such a little dark-eyed girl as this had +been the only child of his home. In his surprise he could not speak for +a few moments, but stood silently regarding the child with a look of +admiration and interest. + +Eager as she was to tell her errand, Maggie forgot it for a minute as +she gazed sadly at her "pretty lady," now so white and wasted. + +"Well, Maggie," said Mrs. Thornton, as she met the child's earnest +gaze, "what brings you here to-night?" + +"I came to see Colonel Platten," said Maggie. + +"Here I am, child," said the colonel, from his place on the hearth-rug; +"what have you to say to me?" + +"Oh, please, sir, grandfather has sent me," said the child, +falteringly; "he is very ill, and the doctor says he is going to die. +And he wants to see you first, for he has something particular to say +to you. Would you be so good as to go to him, please, sir?" + +"What can your grandfather have to say to me?" demanded Colonel +Platten, ill-pleased with the strange request. "I know nothing of him." + +"Oh yes, you do, please, sir," Maggie hastened to explain; "my +grandfather keeps the old curiosity shop, where you bought that +beautiful Worcester jug, with pictures painted upon it. It's about that +jug that grandfather wants to speak to you." + +"About that jug!" exclaimed the colonel, with a sudden start. What +could the old man have to tell him? he wondered. + +"Yes, sir; you will come, won't you?" pleaded Maggie. "Grandfather is +very ill, and he said it might be too late, if you did not come soon." + +"Yes, I will come." decided the colonel. + +"You will not leave me all alone, papa?" cried Maud, in distress. + +"I am very sorry, Maud; but what can I do?" asked the colonel, in +perplexity. + +"Do not go," urged his daughter; "what does it matter whether or not +you hear something about an old jug?" + +"Oh, please let him come!" cried Maggie, turning to the lady with tears +in her eyes. "Grandfather wishes it so much." + +"Well, will you stay with me whilst papa goes?" asked Maud, who had +taken a great fancy to the pretty child. + +Maggie hesitated. It was hard to stay away even for an hour from her +grandfather's bedside; but she felt bound to do all she could to gain +the fulfilment of his last wish. + +"Yes, I will stay with you," she said. + +And without heeding her evident reluctance, Mrs. Thornton bade her +remove her hat and jacket, and come and sit beside her couch. + +After kissing his daughter the colonel quitted the room, and a few +minutes later they heard him leave the house. + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XII. + +Maggie is Claimed. + +"DID you have your tea before you came out, Maggie?" asked Mrs. +Thornton, when they were alone. + +"No," said Maggie; "but I didn't want any." + +In truth she had eaten very little that day, and was beginning to feel +faint for want of food. + +"You shall have some tea with me," said the lady. "I am just going to +have a cup. Ring that bell for me, please, and then Mary will bring it." + +In a few minutes a very appetizing meal was placed before the child. +But she did but scant justice to the dainties which Mrs. Thornton +pressed upon her. Her heart was too heavy for her to care much about +eating. + +"I have been very ill, Maggie, since I last saw you," said the lady, +presently. + +"Yes, I know; I was very sorry to hear it," said Maggie. "I asked God +to make you well." + +"You asked God to make me well," exclaimed the lady, in astonishment; +"what could make you trouble yourself about me, child?" + +"Because I love you; you are so pretty," said Maggie, with the perfect +simplicity of childhood. + +The lady smiled and blushed. She thought Maggie's artless words a very +nice compliment. + +"You really are better, aren't you?" asked the child. "You don't think +you will die now, do you?" + +"Oh dear no, I hope not," replied the lady, with a shudder; "what a +question to ask me! My husband says I am out of danger now, and getting +well fast. At one time I was dreadfully afraid I was going to die." + +"Why were you afraid?" asked the child. "Didn't you think that Jesus +would take you to heaven?" + +The lady's face flushed again—this time with a flush of shame. + +"No, Maggie," she said, in low, tremulous tones, "I could not feel +sure about heaven. I thought I knew all about those things; but when +death seemed near, I couldn't feel sure that I was good enough to go to +heaven." + +"Jesus would have made you good enough, if you had asked Him," said +Maggie; and then she repeated in a low voice: + + "'He died that we might be forgiven, + He died to make us good; + That we might go at last to heaven, + Saved by His precious blood.' + +"That's a verse of my hymn; do you know it?" + +"Yes, I have heard the words before," said Mrs. Thornton. "Can you sing +that hymn?" + +"Oh yes," said Maggie; "I often sing it." + +"Then sing it to me now," said the lady. + +Maggie hesitated. How could she sing in that strange house the hymn she +had lately sung so often beside her grandfather's bed? She felt more +inclined to cry than to sing. But she thought it would be unkind to +refuse; so with an effort she kept down her emotion, and sang the hymn +right through, though in a voice that was sad and tremulous. + +"Thank you, dear; you sing very sweetly," said Maud, when she had done. + +And then the young lady lay back with closed eyes, and was silent so +long that Maggie fancied she was sleeping. + +But Maud had but closed her eyes that she might think undisturbedly. +She was in truth pondering the words of the child's hymn, and for the +first time realizing the preciousness of the truth, that "whilst we +were yet sinners, Christ died for us." + +To little Maggie, sitting beside the couch, the time passed slowly +and wearily. Her heart was in that other room, where old John Griffin +was awaiting the approach of death. She longed to know how he was. It +seemed as if the colonel would never come to release her. + +"Are you getting tired, Maggie?" asked Mrs. Thornton, when some slight +movement of the child attracted her attention. "You have been sitting +there so long, as quiet as a mouse. I love to have you near me. I wish +you were my little sister. How should you like now to come and live +here with me, and be my little sister?" + +Maggie shook her head. "I would rather stay with grandfather," she said. + +But then the tears came into her eyes, and her chest heaved with +emotion as she remembered that it was impossible for her to be much +longer John Griffin's "little maid;" for was he not going to leave her? + +Mrs. Thornton saw her tears, and could guess the thought that caused +them. + +"You are very fond of your grandfather, Maggie," she said, gently; +"have you always lived with him?" + +"Oh no," said Maggie; "only since last year. He is not really my +grandfather, you know. I have no one belonging to me. I should have +gone to the workhouse if Mr. and Mrs. Griffin had not been so good as +to let me live with them." + +"You don't mean it?" said the lady. "How you surprise me! Tell me all +about it." + +And Maggie told her sad story; and as they talked together another +half-hour slipped by. + +Then, at last, Maggie heard the front door open, and the steps of men +in the hall. + +Mrs. Thornton's ears too caught the sound. "Leslie has come home," she +said, with a look of delight. + +They came upstairs together, the colonel and Dr. Thornton, talking +in low, earnest tones as they ascended. They even lingered outside +the door for a few minutes to continue their talk. Then the colonel +entered, looking strangely agitated, and Dr. Thornton followed. + +Colonel Platten walked quickly to where Maggie stood, she having risen +from her chair in her haste to be off. + +The child was surprised to see that he carried in his hand the Bible +and prayer-book which had belonged to her mother. In another moment, +to her still greater astonishment, she found herself clasped in the +stately old soldier's arms, whilst he kissed her on the forehead. + +Then releasing her, he turned to Mrs. Thornton, who was no less amazed +than Maggie at this sudden manifestation of affection. + +"Maud," he said, "this little girl is my grandchild, the daughter +of your sister Maggie. What John Griffin has told me, and these +books—which are well-known to me—prove it plainly enough. My poor girl +is dead—she died miserably; but she has left me this child to care for. +Maggie, I am your grandfather." + +"You are not!" cried Maggie, indignantly, as she tried to push him +away. "Mr. Griffin is my grandfather, and I want no other grandfather. +Oh, please let me go to him! He is very ill, and he wants me, I know he +does. I can't stay here another minute." + +"Yes, Maggie, you shall go to him," said Dr. Thornton, interposing; "he +is longing for you to come. My chaise is at the door, and will take you +there in a few minutes. The colonel has come on purpose to fetch you." + +And the doctor helped the child to wrap herself up for the drive. + +"I would not trouble her with explanations if I were you," he said to +Colonel Platten, as they went downstairs. "She will be glad to hear +it in time, I have no doubt; but just now she can think only of old +Griffin." + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIII. + +Old Griffin Falls Asleep. + +JOHN GRIFFIN lay with closed eyes, breathing heavily, when little +Maggie re-entered the sick room. It seemed to the child's anxious gaze +that he was looking far worse than when she had left him. She stole to +his side, and laid her little hand tenderly on his. Mrs. Griffin sat on +the other side of the bed, holding his right hand. She was quite calm; +but her face was very sad as she watched the last moments of him whose +life had been linked to hers for more than thirty years. + +The child's light touch seemed to awake the old man to consciousness, +for he opened his eyes, and casting a glance round the room, murmured, +"My little maid; where is my little maid?" + +"I'm here, grandfather, close beside you," said Maggie, leaning forward +to kiss him. + +Old Griffin looked up at her with a bright smile of recognition. "It is +you," he said, feebly; "I'm so glad you've come." + +Then, making a great effort, he said, as clearly as his failing breath +would permit, "Maggie, I've told all—all about the Worcester jug. The +colonel knows; you belong to him now. You must be a good girl, and do +as he tells you." + +"I'll try to be good, grandfather," said the child, with quivering lips. + +"You've always been a good little maid to me," he said. "And you'll +not forget the old woman, Maggie. It'll be hard for her to be left all +alone. And, Maggie, I've tried to undo all the wrong I have done. I've +repented of my sins. Do you think the Lord will forgive me? Will He +open the gate for me?" + +"The gate is open," said little Maggie, scarce knowing what she said; +"wide, wide open." + +"Say the words again," he murmured. + +"What words?" she asked, wonderingly. Then guessing his meaning, she +repeated: + + "'There was no other good enough + To pay the price of sin, + He only could unlock the gate + Of heaven and let us in.'" + +A faint smile stole over the face of the dying man. "Yes," he murmured, +"He has paid the price. He died for me." + +Presently a slight movement of the hand she held told his wife that he +wished to speak to her. She bent over him to catch the low words. + +"Old wife, I'm thinking that I shall find our little Polly there. And +you'll come by-and-by. It won't be very long." + +"No, it won't be long," she responded, brokenly. + +He said no more; there was silence in the room, save for the sound of +his heavy, painful breathing. At last that grew fainter, and he passed +into a doze. + +Little Maggie must have slept too, as she sat beside him, for it seemed +to her as if but a few minutes had passed, when an hour later she was +roused by the sound of Mrs. Griffin's bitter sobs. Then she saw Colonel +Platten standing near her. + +"Come with me, my dear," he said, as he tried to draw her away; but she +resisted his touch. + +"Don't!" she cried. "I must stay with grandfather. I cannot leave him +now." + +"My child, he has left you," said the colonel, tenderly. "His spirit +has passed from earth. You must let me be your grandfather now." + +And as Maggie glanced at the still, white face, and saw Mrs. Griffin +weeping unrestrainedly, she knew that his words were true; and crying +aloud in her grief for the loss of her friend, she suffered him to lead +her away. + +Colonel Platten would gladly have taken Maggie at once to his own home; +but the child refused to leave Mrs. Griffin alone in her sorrow. She +stayed with her through the sad, still days till John Griffin's body +was carried to its resting-place in the quiet cemetery. The house would +have been dreary indeed without the presence of the child. Maggie's +little arms clinging around her neck, and Maggie's soft kisses pressed +against her withered cheek, comforted the old woman more than any words +could have done. She shrank from the thought that the discovery of +Maggie's parentage, and her relationship to the colonel, must result in +her losing the child whom she loved so dearly. + +But, after some deliberation, Colonel Platten resolved that he would +not separate Maggie from the woman who had been so good to her. He +offered Mrs. Griffin a home in his house as Maggie's guardian and +friend. Her duties would be very simple, and only such as she would +delight to perform. + +Mrs. Griffin gladly agreed to his proposal. She was thankful that she +might still be near her darling, and have the joy of serving her. + +So the business in which old Griffin had taken such pride was disposed +of; and his widow removed, with such of her household treasures as she +would not part with, to two rooms at the top of Colonel Platten's large +house in Lockyer Street. + +But ere she settled down to her new life, there another change +awaited her. Mrs. Thornton was regaining strength but slowly, and the +doctor wished to send her away from Plymouth for a time. So it was +arranged that she, Maggie, and the colonel, with Mrs. Griffin as their +attendant, should go for a month to Bournemouth. + + +Dr. Thornton was very pleased to see how well the whole party, and in +particular his dear young wife, looked when they returned. He observed +in Maud a greater change than the mere return of health as time went on. + +She had seen life in its true light as she lay on her sick bed; and +after that solemn revelation she could not sink back into her old +light, thoughtless self. But she was not a whit less charming or less +bright for the change which had been wrought in her. Her beauty shone +with a purer lustre under the influence of the womanly graces which +gradually crowned it, as she bravely took up her duties as a doctor's +wife, and faithfully shared her husband's self-denial and anxiety. +Their wedded life knew a fuller, richer joy as together they trod the +noble path along-which Jesus has led the way, striving by His help to +make their own lives worthy, and the lives of others better and happier. + +Though at first she had shrunk timidly from his advances, Maggie's +heart soon began to be drawn to her grandfather, who spared no pains +to win her love. His heart was thrilled with pain as he learned +from the child's simple words what cruel suffering his daughter had +known. The idea of his beautiful Maggie dying in want and misery in a +wretched lodging-house at but a short distance from his own home was +insupportable. He was convinced from what little Maggie told him of +her mother's going to Lockyer Street on the night on which she died, +that it was a desire to obtain his forgiveness, and to ask him to show +kindness to her child, which had induced her to return to Plymouth in +her poverty and failing health. + +Colonel Platten saw much for which to reproach himself as he looked +back on the past; but Maggie's presence in his home brought him +comfort. Under her influence, his manner grew gentler, and his face +lost somewhat of its proud, stern look. His love for the child deepened +every day; and as she responded to it, the bond between them grew to be +a strong one. + +But Maggie could never forget that other grandfather who had adopted +her when she was poor and friendless, and who had always been so good +and kind and patient to his "little maid." She often accompanied Mrs. +Griffin on her visits to her husband's grave; and when spring came, +Maggie took great pains to plant "forget-me-nots" and sweet mignonette +upon the mound beneath which lay the mortal remains of the china-dealer. + +And as long as she lived, Maggie guarded as a priceless treasure the +old Worcester jug, which had played so important a part in her history. + + +[Illustration] + + + + —————————————————————————————————————— + LONDON: KNIGHT, PRINTER, MIDDLE STREET E. C. + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75600 *** |