Chapter XXXVII
"'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark, Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home; 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming--and look brighter when we come."
BYRON.
Edward Forster returned home with his little _protegee_, his mind relievedfrom the weight which had oppressed it: he knew that the word of hisbrother was his bond, and that under a rough exterior he concealed agenerous and sympathising heart. It was in the early part of the autumnthat he again took possession of the cottage; and as he once more seatedhimself in his old arm-chair, he mentally exclaimed, "Here then am I againat anchor for a short time, until summoned to another world." His prophecywas correct; during the severe winter that followed, his wound openedagain, and his constitution, worn out, gave way to repeated suffering. Hehad not been confined to his bed more than a fortnight when he felt thathis end was approaching. He had long been prepared: nothing remained to bedone but to write a letter to his brother, which he confided to Robertson,the fisherman, with directions that it should be put in the post-officeimmediately after his death; and a strict charge to watch over the littlegirl, until she should be sent for by his brother.
This last necessary act had been completed when Robertson, who was standingby the side of the bed, with the letter in his hand, informed him that thefamily at the Hall had returned from the Continent on the evening before,with their only son, who was now restored to health. This intelligenceinduced Forster to alter his plans; and trusting to the former friendshipof Lord Aveleyn, he despatched Robertson to the Hall, stating his owncondition, and requesting that his lordship would come to the cottage. LordAveleyn immediately obeyed the summons; and perceiving at the first glancethat Forster's situation debarred all chance of recovery, took upon himselfwith willingness the charge of the letter, and promised to receive Amberinto his house until it was convenient that she should be removed. It wasdark when Lord Aveleyn, with melancholy foreboding, took his last farewell;for, ere the sun had risen again, the spirit of Edward Forster had regainedits liberty, and soared to the empyrean, while the deserted Amber wept andprayed.
Edward Forster had not concealed from her the precarious tenure of hisexistence, and since their return from London had made her fully acquaintedwith all the particulars connected with her own history. The last fewweeks, every interval of suffering had been devoted by him to enforce thoseprinciples which he ever had inculcated, and to prepare for the event whichhad now taken place.
Amber was kneeling by the side of the bed; she had been there so long thatshe was not aware that it was broad day. Her face, laid upon her hands, wascompletely hidden by her luxuriant hair, which had escaped from theconfinement of the comb, when the door of the chamber of death was softlyopened. Amber, who either did not hear the noise or thought it was thedaughter of Robertson, who lived as servant in the cottage, raised not herhead. The steps continued to approach, then the sound ceased, and Amberfelt the arms of some one encircling her waist to raise her from herkneeling posture. She lifted up her head, and dividing the hair from herforehead, that she might see who it was, perceived that it was youngAveleyn who was hanging over her.
"My poor little girl!" said he in a tone of commiseration.
"Oh! William Aveleyn," cried Amber, bursting into a paroxysm of tears, asshe was folded in his arms.
The sorrow of youth is sympathetic, and William Aveleyn, although seventeenyears old, and fast advancing to manhood, did not disdain to mingle histears with those of his former playmate. It was some time before he couldpersuade Amber, who clung to him in her grief, to any degree of serenity.
"Amber dear, you must come to us at the Hall; this is no place for younow."
"And why not, William? Why should I leave so soon? I'm not afraid of beinghere, or lying by his side alone: I've seen other people die. I saw MrsBeazely die--I saw poor 'Faithful' die; and now, they _all_ are dead,"said Amber, bursting into tears, and burying her face in William Aveleyn'sbosom. "I knew that he was to die," said she, raising her head, after atime--"he told me so; but, to think that I shall never hear him speakagain--that very soon I shall never see him more--I must cry, William."
"But your father is happy, Amber."
"_He_ is happy, I know; but he was not my father, William. I have nofather--no friend on earth I know of. He told me all before he died;'Faithful' brought me from the sea."
This intelligence roused the curiosity of William Aveleyn, who interrogatedAmber, and obtained from her the whole of the particulars communicated byEdward Forster; and, as she answered to his many questions, she grew morecomposed.
The narrative had scarcely been finished, when Lord Aveleyn, who had beensummoned by Robertson, drove to the door accompanied by Lady Aveleyn, whothought that her presence and persuasions would more readily induce Amberto leave the cottage. Convinced by her of the propriety of the proposal,Amber was put into the carriage without resistance, and conveyed to theHall, where everything that kindness and sympathy could suggest wasresorted to, to assuage her grief. There we must leave her, and repair tothe metropolis.
"Scratton," said Mr John Forster to his clerk, who had answered the bell,"recollect I cannot see anyone today."
"You have several appointments, sir," replied the clerk.
"Then send, and put them all off."
"Yes, sir; and if anyone calls, I am to say that you are not at home?"
"No, I am at home; why tell a lie? but I cannot see anybody."
The clerk shut the door; John Forster put on his spectacles to re-perusethe letter which lay before him. It was the one from Edward, inclosed in afrank by Lord Aveleyn, with a few lines, announcing his brother's death,and stating that Amber was at the Hall, where they should be glad that sheshould remain until it was convenient to send for her. Edward's letterrepeated his thanks to his brother for his kind promise, and took a lastand affectionate farewell. John Forster struggled for a time with hisfeelings; but the more he attempted to repress them the more violent theybecame. He was alone, and he gave them vent. The legal documents beforehim, arising from the bitterness of strife, were thus unusually moistenedwith a tribute to a brother's memory. But in a few moments the old lawyerwas himself again; all traces of emotion had disappeared, and no one whohad seen him then would ever have imagined that John Forster could havebeen thus moved. The next day he was not as usual to be found at hischambers: the fact was, that he had set off immediately after breakfast,upon what is generally termed "house hunting." The apartments which heoccupied in his chambers were not sufficient for the intended increase ofhis establishment; and when he had given his promise to Edward, he wasfully aware of the expense which would be entailed by receiving Amber, andhad made up his mind to incur it. He therefore fixed upon a convenienthouse in Lincoln's Inn Fields, which would not detach him far from hischambers. Having arranged for a lease of twelve years, John Forsterreturned to his chambers.
"Scratton," said he, "look out for a man-servant, a cook, housemaid, and asteady woman as housekeeper--good characters, and undeniable reference. Thehousekeeper must be a somewhat superior person, as she will have to takecharge of a young miss, and I do not want her spoiled by keeping companywith the general description of servants. Do you understand?"
Scratton did; and in less than a month, as everything is to be obtained formoney in the city of London, the house was furnished by a city upholstererin a plain way, and all the servants installed in their respectivesituations.
Mr John Forster took possession of his new house, and tried for a week ifall worked well. Ascertaining that the furniture was complete, theunder-servants well behaved, and the housekeeper a mild and veryintelligent personage, fit to be intrusted with the charge of a littlegirl, he then wrote to Lord Aveleyn, reiterating the thanks conveyed in hisformer letter, and requesting that Amber might be delivered into the chargeof the bearer. With this letter Mr Scratton was despatched, and, in duetime, arrived at the Hall. Amber wept bitterly at the idea of parting withthose
who had been so kind to her, and passing into the hands of one whowas a stranger. Having exacted a promise from William Aveleyn that he wouldcall as he passed through on his way to Cambridge, she bade her kindfriends farewell, entered the chaise in company with Mr Scratton, and washurried off to London.
Mr Scratton was one of those personages who never spoke except on business;and, having no business to transact with a girl of twelve years old, henever spoke at all, except when necessity rendered it imperative. Amberwas, therefore, left to her own reflections. What they all were, I cannottell, but one certainly was, that travelling in a chaise for two days withMr Scratton was not very agreeable. Most happy was she when they drove upto the door of Mr John Forster's new habitation. The old gentleman, who hadcalculated the hour of her arrival after the receipt of a letter from hercompanion, was there to receive her. Amber, who had been prepossessed inhis favour by Edward Forster, who had told her that in his brother shewould find a protector and indulgent parent, ran up to him when she enteredthe room, and burst into tears as the injunctions of Edward Forsterreturned to her memory. John Forster took her in his arms and kissed her."My little girl," said he, "what my brother was, such will I be to you.Consider me as your father; for his memory, and I hope soon, for your ownsake, I shall rejoice to be so."
After an hour, by which time Amber had recovered her serenity, and becomealmost cheerful, she was consigned to the charge of Mrs Smith, thehousekeeper, and John Forster hastened back to his chambers and hisclients, to make up for so much lost time.
It was not long before the old gentleman discovered that the trouble andexpense which he had incurred to please his brother was the occasion ofpleasure and gratification. He no longer felt isolated in the world: inshort, he had a _home_, where a beaming eye met his return, and anaffectionate heart ministered to his wishes; where his well known rap atthe door was a source of delight, and his departure one of regret.
In a few months Amber had entwined herself round the old man's heart: thebest masters were procured for her, and all the affection of a dotingparent upon an only child was bestowed by him who, when the proposition wasmade, had declared that "it was bad enough to maintain children of one'sown begetting."
Bless my soul! how poor authors are obliged to gallop about. Now I must beoff again to India, and get on board of the _Bombay Castle_.
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