Little Frida Part 9

"Speak for yourself, Mr. Gower. I have plenty of useful things to do, just as much so as making a guy of myself and going a-slumming, only I am often too lazy to do them," and with a friendly nod she followed her cousin into the house.

Reginald rode slowly homeward, and, contrary to his usual custom, went to his own room to try to collect his thoughts and make out in what form he would deliver Miss Warden's message to his mother. It was very evident to him that the meshes into which his own sins had brought him were tightening around him. Turn which way he liked, there was no escape. At least only one that he could see, and that was, that if the secret came out, and the young violinist of the Black Forest were proved to be the grandchild of the Willoughbys, he should keep silence as to his ever having known anything of the matter.

The more he thought of it, the more that seemed his wisest course; and even if it should come out that he had heard her play, that would tell nothing. Yet his conscience was ill at ease. Suppose he did so, what of his own self-respect? Could he ever regain it? Fortune would be lost, and all ease of mind gone for ever. Then again, if he told his story now, it would only be because he knew that in any case it would be disclosed, and shame would await him.

How could he ever bear the reproaches of his kind friends the Willoughbys, and more than all, the deep grief such a disclosure would cause to his loved mother? In that hour Reginald Gower went through a conflict of mind which left a mark on his character for life. But, alas!

once more evil won the day, and he resolved that not _yet_ would he tell all he knew; but some day _soon_ he might. But once again, as he rose to go downstairs, Bible words came into his mind: "_To-day_, while it is called to-day, harden not your hearts."

O happy mother, to have so carefully stored the young heart with the precious words of G.o.d! Long they may be as the seed under ground, apparently forgotten and useless, yet surely one day they will spring up and bear fruit. True even in this application are the words of the poet,--

"The vase in which roses have once been distilled You may break, you may shiver the vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will cling to it still."

Well may we thank G.o.d for all mothers who carefully teach the words of Holy Scripture to their children.

That day Reginald delivered Miss Warden's message to his mother, but did not mention the young girl who was to accompany her.

"Oh, I will be delighted to see Miss Drechsler again," said his mother.

"I liked her so much when she was governess at the Wardens'. We all did; indeed, she was more companion than governess, and indeed was younger than I was, and just about Mary Warden's own age. I remember well going one day with Mrs. Willoughby's daughter, Hilda, to a musical party at the Wardens', and how charmed Miss Drechsler was at the way Hilda played the violin, which was not such a common thing then as it is now."

"The violin?" queried Reginald. "Did Miss Willoughby play on the violin?"

"Oh yes! she was very musical, and that was one of the great attractions to her in the man she married. He, too, was a wonderful violinist--Herr Heinz they called him. He was, I believe, a much-respected man and of good family connections, but poor, and even taught music to gain a livelihood."

"Heinz!" Reginald was repeating to himself. Then he had heard that name before first in connection with the child of the Black Forest; but he only said, "It is curious that I have lately heard that name from the young Wardens, who speak a great deal of a Dr. Heinz. He also is a good violinist. Can he be any relation, do you think, of the one you allude to?"

"Possibly he may; but the name is not at all an uncommon German one. By the way, I heard a report (probably a false one) that Gertie Warden is engaged to be married to a Dr. Heinz--a very good man, they say. Have you heard anything of it?"

"I never heard she was engaged, nor do I think it is likely; but I have heard both her and her sister speak of this Dr. Heinz, and I know it is only a Christian man that Gertie would marry."

Having said so much, he quickly changed the subject and talked of something else. The mother's eye, however, was quick to notice the shade on his brow as he spoke, and she was confirmed in the opinion she had formed for some time that the very idea of Gertie Warden's engagement was a pain to him. As he rose to go out he turned to say, "Remember, mother, that I have given you Miss Warden's message."

CHAPTER XIII.

IN THE SLUMS.

"In dens of guilt the baby played, Where sin and sin _alone_ was made The law which all around obeyed."

The summer sunshine, of which we have written as glistening among the "leafy tide of greenery," and on the ripening corn-fields and gaily-painted flowers in the country, was penetrating also the close streets of one of the poorest parts of London, cheering some of the hearts of the weary toiling ones there, into whose lives little sunshine ever fell, and for a while, it may be, helping them to forget the misery of their lot, or to some recalling happier days when they dwelt not in a narrow, crowded street, but in a country village home, amidst gra.s.sy meadows and leafy trees, feeling, as they thought of these things, though they could not have put the feeling into words, what a poet gone to his rest says so beautifully,--

"That sorrow's crown of sorrow Is remembering happier things."

But the very light that cheered revealed more clearly the misery, dirt, and poverty around.

In one such street, where little pale-faced children, without the merriment and laughter of childhood, played in a languid, unchildlike way, sickness prevailed; for fever had broken out, and indoors suffering ones tossed on beds, if they could be so called, of sickness.

At the door of a small room in one of the houses stood a girl of some ten or eleven years old, looking out anxiously as if in expectation of some one, turning every now and then to address a word to her mother, who lay in the small room on a bed in the corner.

"He baint a-comin' yet," she said, "'cos I knows his step; but he'll be 'long soon--ye see if he don't! I knows as how he will, 'cos he's that kind; so don't ye fret, mother--the doctor 'ill be here in no time.

There now! Susan Keats giv' me some tea for ye, and I'll get the water from her and bring you some prime and 'ot--ye see if I don't!" So saying, the child ran off and went into a room next door, and entering begged for some "'ot water." "Ye see," she said, addressing a woman poorly clad like herself, "she be a-frettin', mother is, for the doctor, for she's badly, is mother, to-day, and she thinks mayhap he'll do her good."

When the child returned to her mother's room, she found Dr. Heinz (for it was he) sitting by her mother's side and speaking kindly to her. He turned round as the child entered. "Come along, Gussie," he said; "that's right--been getting mother some tea. You'll need to tend her well, for she's very poorly to-day."

"Ay, ay," muttered the woman, "that's true, that's true. Be kind to Gussie, poor Gussie, when I am gone, doctor. The young lady--Miss Warden be her name--she said she'd look after her, she did."

The doctor bent over the dying woman and said some comforting words, at which the woman's face brightened. "G.o.d bless ye," she said, "for promising that. Oh, but life's been weary, weary sin' I came 'ere--work, work, and that not always to be 'ad. But it's true, sir, what ye told me. He says even to the like o' me, 'Come unto me, and I will give you rest;' and He's done it, I think. Ye'll come again, sir, won't ye?"

After a few moments of prayer with the poor woman, and giving her some medicine to allay her restlessness, Dr. Heinz left the room. From house to house in the fever-stricken street he went, ministering alike to body and soul, often feeling cast down and discouraged, overwhelmed at times by the vice and poverty of all around. The gospel had never reached these poor neglected ones. The very need of a Saviour was by the great majority of them unfelt. Love many of them had never experienced. The evil of sin they did not comprehend. Brought up from babyhood in the midst of iniquity, they were strangers to the very meaning of righteousness and virtue. No wonder that the heart of the doctor was oppressed as he went out and in amongst them. Yet he felt a.s.sured that by love they could be won to the G.o.d of love, and that only the simple gospel of Jesus Christ dying in their room and stead, told in the power of the Holy Ghost, could enlighten their dark souls and prove the true lever to raise them from their sin and misery. And so, whilst alleviating pain, he tried when possible to say a word from the book--G.o.d's revealed will, which alone "maketh wise unto salvation."

More than once on the day we write of, as he went from house to house, the vision of a young girl whom he had often met going about doing good flitted before his eyes.

Gertie Warden and Dr. Heinz had first met in one of those abodes of wretchedness, where she stood by a bed of sickness trying to comfort and help a dying woman.

Only two years before that and Gertie was just ready to throw herself into the vortex of the gay society in which the other members of her family mingled; but ere she did so the voice of the Holy Ghost spake to her as to so many others, and showed her how true life was only to be found in Christ and lived in Him. Henceforth she lived no longer a life of mere worldliness, but a life spent in the service of Him who had loved her and given Himself for her; and then her greatest joy was found in visiting the poor, the afflicted, the tried--ay, and often the oppressed ones of earth.

In her own family she found great opposition to her new mode of life; but the Lord raised up a kind helpful friend to her in the person of the gentle, sorely-tried Mrs. Willoughby of Harcourt Manor. To her Gertie confided all her difficulties as regarded her district visiting (or, as her sister called it, her slumming), and many a word of sympathy and wise counsel she got from her friend.

One day she spoke of Dr. Heinz.

"You cannot think how much the people love him," she said, "and trust him. 'Ah!' I heard a poor woman say the other day, 'if only all were like him, it's a better world it would be than it's now.' And do you know," she went on, "he is actually interesting my father and Aunt Mary in some of his poor patients. And he likes to come to our house sometimes in the evenings and play on the violin along with us; and he does play beautifully. I wish you knew him, dear Mrs. Willoughby, for I know you would like him. But, dear friend, are you not well?"

For at the name of Heinz a deadly faintness had overcome Mrs.

Willoughby. Was not that the name of her daughter's husband? and if he should prove to be in any way related to him, might he not be able to give some information regarding her loved one? But she composed herself, and in answer to Gertie's question she replied,--

"It is nothing, dear, only a pa.s.sing weakness. I am all right now. Tell me something more of this Dr. Heinz and the Christian work he is engaged in. He must be a German, I fancy, from his name."

"Yes, he is," replied Gertie; "he was speaking to me lately about his relations. He was born in Germany, and lived there till he was a boy of seven years old. Then his parents died, and he came to this country with an older brother who was a wonderful violinist, and he taught him to play; but many years ago this brother married and returned to Germany, leaving him here in the charge of some kind friends; and though at first he heard from him from time to time, he has ceased to write to him for some years, and he fears he is dead. He knows he had a child, for his last letter mentioned her, but he knows nothing more."

Again that terrible pallor overcame Mrs. Willoughby, but this time she rose and said in an excited tone,--

"I must see this Dr. Heinz. Could you bring him to see me, Gertie, and soon? Say to him that I think, although I am not sure, that I knew a relation of his some years ago."

"Oh yes, Mrs. Willoughby; I will gladly ask him to come and see you.

Indeed, I was just going to ask if you would allow him to call--" Here the girl hesitated a moment, then said, "You see, it was only last night, but I am engaged to be married to Dr. Heinz, and do wish you to know and love him for my sake."

Love one of the name of Heinz! Could she do so, the gentle lady was asking herself. What if he should prove to be the brother of the man who had caused her such bitter sorrow? But at that moment there rose to her remembrance the words of Scripture, said by Him who suffered from the hand of man as never man suffered, "Forgive, as ye would be forgiven,"

and who ill.u.s.trated that forgiveness on the cross when He prayed for His deadly enemies, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do."

The momentary struggle was over. Mrs. Willoughby raised her head, and said in a calm, quiet tone,--

"G.o.d bless you, Gertie; and may your union be a very happy one. I should like to see Dr. Heinz."

And so it came to pa.s.s that ere many days had elapsed, Dr. Heinz was ushered into Mrs. Willoughby's drawing-room in the London house which they had taken for the season. He was hardly seated before she said,--

"Yes, oh yes--there can be no mistake--you certainly are the brother of the man who married my daughter. Tell me, oh tell me," she added, "what you know of her and of him!"

Dr. Heinz was strongly moved as he looked on the face of the agitated mother.