Adela Cathcart Volume I Part 7

"'Oh! but he gives me lots o' things; and he's up there, and he gives everybody lots o' things as likes to have 'em.'

"'Well, what's he gave you?'

"'Why, he's gave me some bread this mornin', and a tart last night--he did.'

"And the boy nodded his head, as was his custom, to make his a.s.sertion still stronger.

"'But you was sayin' just now, you hadn't got a kite. Why don't he give you one?'

"'_He'll_ give me one fast 'nuff,' said Davy, grinning again, and rubbing his hands.

"Miss Cathcart, I a.s.sure you I could have kissed the boy. And I hope I felt some grat.i.tude to G.o.d for giving the poor lad such trust in Him, which, it seemed to me, was better than trusting in the three-per-cents, colonel; for you can draw upon him to no end o' good things. So Davy thought anyhow; and he had got the very thing for the want of which my life was cold and sad, and discontented. Those words, _Blessed Father_, and that look that turned his vacant face, like Stephen's, into the face of an angel, because he was looking up to the same glory, were in my ears and eyes for days. And they taught me, and comforted me. He was the minister of G.o.d's best gifts to me. And to how many more, who can tell? For Davy believed that G.o.d did care for his own children.

"Davy sauntered away, and before my friend came back with the children, I had lost sight of him; but at my request we moved on slowly till we should find him again. Nor had we gone far, before I saw him sitting in the middle of a group of little children. He was showing them the pictures on his pocket-handkerchief. I had one sixpence in my purse--it was the last I had, Mr. Smith."

Here, from some impulse or other, Mrs. Bloomfield addressed me.

"But I wasn't so poor but I could borrow, and it was a small price to give for what I had got; and so, as I was not able to leave the carriage, I asked my friend to take it to him, and tell him that Blessed Father had sent him that to buy a kite. The expression of childish glee upon his face, and the devout G.o.d bless you, Lady, upon his tongue, were strangely but not incongruously mingled.

"Well, it was my last sixpence then, but here I and my husband are, owing no man anything, and spending a happy Christmas Day, with many thanks to Colonel and Miss Cathcart."

"No, my good Madam," said the colonel; "it is we who owe you the happiest part of our Christmas Day. Is it not, Adela?"

"Yes, papa, it is indeed," answered Adela.

Then, with some hesitation, she added,

"But do you think it was quite fair? It was _you_, Mrs. Bloomfield, who gave the boy the sixpence."

"I only said G.o.d sent it," said Mrs. Bloomfield.

"Besides," I interposed, "the boy never doubted it; and I think, after all, with due submission to my niece, he was the best judge."

"I should be only too happy to grant it," she answered, with a sigh. "Things might be all right if one could believe that--thoroughly, I mean."

"At least you will allow," I said, "that this boy was not by any means so miserable as he looked."

"Certainly," she answered, with hearty emphasis. "I think he was much to be envied."

Here I discovered that Percy was asleep on a sofa.

Other talk followed, and the colonel was looking very thoughtful. Tea was brought in, and soon after, our visitors rose to take their leave.

"You are not going already?" said the colonel.

"If you will excuse us," answered the schoolmaster. "We are early birds."

"Well, will you dine with us this day week?"

"With much pleasure," answered both in a breath.

It was clear both that the colonel liked their simple honest company, and that he saw they might do his daughter good; for her face looked very earnest and sweet; and the clearness that precedes rain was evident in the atmosphere of her eyes.

After their departure we soon separated; and I retired to my room full of a new idea, which I thought, if well carried out, might be of still further benefit to the invalid.

But before I went to bed, I had made a rough translation of the following hymn of Luther's, which I have since completed--so far at least as the following is complete. I often find that it helps to keep good thoughts before the mind, to turn them into another shape of words.

From heaven above I come to you, To bring a story good and new: Of goodly news so much I bring-- I cannot help it, I must sing.

To you a child is come this morn, A child of holy maiden born; A little babe, so sweet and mild-- It is a joy to see the child!

'Tis little Jesus, whom we need Us out of sadness all to lead: He will himself our Saviour be, And from all sinning set us free.

Here come the shepherds, whom we know; Let all of us right gladsome go, To see what G.o.d to us hath given-- A gift that makes a stable heaven.

Take heed, my heart. Be lowly. So Thou seest him lie in manger low: That is the baby sweet and mild; That is the little Jesus-child.

Ah, Lord! the maker of us all!

How hast thou grown so poor and small, That there thou liest on withered gra.s.s-- The supper of the ox and a.s.s?

Were the world wider many-fold, And decked with gems and cloth of gold, 'Twere far too mean and narrow all, To make for Thee a cradle small.

Rough hay, and linen not too fine, The silk and velvet that are thine; Yet, as they were thy kingdom great, Thou liest in them in royal state.

And this, all this, hath pleased Thee, That Thou mightst bring this truth to me: That all earth's good, in one combined, Is nothing to Thy mighty mind.

Ah, little Jesus! lay thy head Down in a soft, white, little bed, That waits Thee in this heart of mine, And then this heart is always Thine.

Such gladness in my heart would make Me dance and sing for Thy sweet sake.

Glory to G.o.d in highest heaven, For He his son to us hath given!

Chapter IV.

The new doctor.

Next forenoon, wishing to have a little private talk with my friend, I went to his room, and found him busy writing to Dr. Wade. He consulted me on the contents of the letter, and I was heartily pleased with the kind way in which he communicated to the old gentleman the resolution he had come to, of trying whether another medical man might not be more fortunate in his attempt to treat the illness of his daughter.

"I fear Dr. Wade will be offended, say what I like," said he.

"It is quite possible to be too much afraid of giving offence," I said; "But nothing can be more gentle and friendly than the way in which you have communicated the necessity."

"Well, it is a great comfort you think so. Will you go with me to call on Mr. Armstrong?"

"With much pleasure," I answered; and we set out at once.

Shown into the doctor's dining-room, I took a glance at the books lying about. I always take advantage of such an opportunity of gaining immediate insight into character. Let me see a man's book-shelves, especially if they are not extensive, and I fancy I know at once, in some measure, what sort of a man the owner is. One small bookcase in a recess of the room seemed to contain all the non-professional library of Mr. Armstrong. I am not going to say here what books they were, or what books I like to see; but I was greatly encouraged by the consultation of the auguries afforded by the backs of these. I was still busy with them, when the door opened, and the doctor entered. He was the same man whom I had seen in church looking at Adela. He advanced in a frank manly way to the colonel, and welcomed him by name, though I believe no introduction had ever pa.s.sed between them. Then the colonel introduced me, and we were soon chatting very comfortably. In his manner, I was glad to find that there was nothing of the professional. I hate the professional. I was delighted to observe, too, that what showed at a distance as a broad honest country face, revealed, on a nearer view, lines of remarkable strength and purity.