Ishmael; Or, In the Depths Part 53

"The Lord says 'Thou shalt not steal!'"

"But that would have been only taking in advance what would certainly have been offered to you as a reward."

"I did think of that when aunt was crying for tea; but then I knew John Hanc.o.c.k never would have done so, and I wouldn't, so I sold my book."

"There, uncle! I said so! Now! now! what do you think now?" exclaimed Claudia.

"It must have cost you much to part with your treasure, my boy!" said Mr. Middleton, without heeding the interruption of Claudia.

Ishmael's features quivered, his eyes filled with tears and his voice failed in the attempt to answer.

"There is your book, my lad! It would be a sin to keep it from you,"

said Mr. Middleton, taking a packet from the bottom of the sleigh and laying it upon Ishmael's knees.

"My book! my book again! Oh, oh, sir! I--" His voice sank; but his pale face beamed with surprise, delight, and grat.i.tude.

"Yes, it is yours, my boy, my n.o.ble boy! I give it to you once more; not as any sort of a reward; but simply because I think it would be a sin to deprive you of that which is yours by a sacred right. Keep it, and make its history still your study, and its heroes still your models," said Mr. Middleton, with emotion.

Ishmael was trembling with joy! His delight at recovering his lost treasure was even greater than his joy at first possessing it had been.

He tried to thank the donor; but his grat.i.tude was too intense to find utterance in words.

"There, there, I know it all as well as if you had expressed it with the eloquence of Cicero, my boy," said Mr. Middleton.

"Uncle, you are such a good old gander that I would hug and kiss you if I could do so without climbing over aunt," said Claudia.

"Mr. Middleton, do let us get along a little faster! or we shall not reach home until dark," said the lady.

"My good, little old wife, it will not be dark this night. The moon is rising, and between the moon above and the snow beneath, we shall have it as light as day all night. However, here goes!" And Mr. Middleton touched up his horse and they flew as before the wind.

It was a glorious ride through a glorious scene! The setting sun was kindling all the western sky into a dazzling effulgence, and sending long golden lines of light through the interstices of the forest on one hand, and the rising moon was flooding the eastern heavens with a silvery radiance on the other. The sleigh flew as if drawn by winged horses.

"Isn't it grand, Ishmael?" inquired Claudia.

"Oh, yes, indeed, miss!" responded the boy, with fervor.

In twenty minutes they had reached the turnpike road from which started the little narrow foot-path leading through the forest to the hut.

"Well, my boy, here we are! jump out! Good-night! I shall not lose sight of you!" said Mr. Middleton, as he drew up to let Ishmael alight.

"Good-night, sir; good-night, madam; good-night, Miss Claudia. I thank you more than I can express, sir; but, indeed, indeed, I will try to deserve your kindness," said Ishmael, as he bowed, and took his pack once more upon his back and sped on through the narrow forest-path that led to his humble home. His very soul within him was singing for joy.

CHAPTER XXV.

A TURNING POINT IN ISHMAEL'S LIFE.

There is a thought, so purely blest, That to its use I oft repair, When evil breaks my spirit's rest, And pleasure is but varied care; A thought to light the darkest skies, To deck with flowers the bleakest moor, A thought whose home is paradise, The charities of Poor to Poor.

--_Richard Monckton Milnes_.

Ishmael lifted the latch and entered the hut, softly lest Hannah should have fallen asleep and he should awaken her.

He was right. The invalid had dropped into one of those soft, refreshing slumbers that often visit and relieve the bed-ridden and exhausted sufferer.

Ishmael closed the door, and moving about noiselessly, placed his treasured book on the bureau; put away his provisions in the cupboard; rekindled the smoldering fire; hung on the teakettle; set a little stand by Hannah's bedside, covered it with a white napkin and arranged a little tea service upon it; and then drew his little three-legged stool to the fire and sat down to warm and rest his cold and tired limbs, and to watch the teakettle boil.

Poor child! His feeble frame had been fearfully over-tasked, and so the heat of the fire and the stillness of the room, both acting upon his exhausted nature, sent him also to sleep, and he was soon nodding.

He was aroused by the voice of Hannah, who had quietly awakened.

"Is that you, Ishmael?" she said.

"Yes, aunt," he exclaimed, starting up with a jerk and rubbing his eyes; "and I have got the tea and things; and the kettle is boiling; but I thought I wouldn't set the tea to draw until you woke up, for fear it should be flat."

"Come here, my child," said Hannah, in a kindly voice, for you see the woman had had a good sleep and had awakened much refreshed, with calmer nerves and consequently better temper.

"Come to me, Ishmael," repeated Hannah; for the boy had delayed obeying long enough to set the tea to draw, and cut a slice of bread and set it down to toast.

When Ishmael went to her she raised herself up, took his thin face between her hands and gazed tenderly into it, saying:

"I was cross to you, my poor lad, this morning; but, oh, Ishmael, I felt so badly I was not myself."

"I know that, Aunt Hannah; because when you are well you are always good to me; but let me run and turn your toast now, or it will burn; I will come back to you directly." And the practical little fellow flew off to the fireplace, turned the bread and flew back to Hannah.

"But where did you get the tea, my child?" she inquired.

Ishmael told her all about it in a few words.

"And so you walked all the way back again to Baymouth, tired and hungry as you were; and you sold your precious book, much as you loved it, all to get tea for me! Oh, my boy, my boy, how unjust I have been to you!

But I am so glad Mr. Middleton bought it back and gave it to you again!

And the pocketbook was his! and you gave it to him and would not take any reward for finding it! That was right, Ishmael; that was right! And it seems to me that every good thing you have ever got in this world has come through your own right doing," was the comment of Hannah upon all this.

"Well, aunt, now the tea is drawn and the toast is ready, let me fix it on the stand for you," said Ishmael, hurrying off to perform this duty.

That evening Hannah enjoyed her tea and dry toast only as a woman long debarred from these feminine necessaries could enjoy them.

When Ishmael also had had his supper and had cleared away the tea service, he took down his book, lighted his little bit of candle, and--as his aunt was in a benignant humor, he went to her for sympathy in his studies--saying:

"Now, aunt, don't mope and pine any more! George Washington didn't, even when the army was at Valley Forge and the snow was so deep and the soldiers were barefooted! Let me read you something out of my book to amuse you! Come, now, I'll read to you what General Marion did when--"

"No, don't, that's a good boy," exclaimed Hannah, interrupting him in alarm, for she had a perfect horror of books. "You know it would tire me to death, dear! But just you sit down by me and tell me about Mrs.

Middleton and Miss Merlin and how they were dressed. For you know, dear, as I haven't been able to go to church these three months, I don't even know what sort of bonnets ladies wear."

This requirement was for a moment a perfect "poser" to Ishmael. He wasn't interested in bonnets! But, however, as he had the faculty of seeing, understanding, and remembering everything that fell under his observation in his own limited sphere, he blew out his candle, sat down and complied with his aunt's request, narrating and describing until she went to sleep. Then he relighted his little bit of candle and sat down to enjoy his book in comfort.

That night the wind shifted to the south and brought in a mild spell of weather.