by L. T. Meade
greatly cared for.He had been cruel to her in his time, and she had looked upon his deathas a deliverance. She was the mother of three children, but two of themseemed to Poll to belong to her husband, and one to her. The boys wererough and commonplace; they were just like their father; Jill wasbeautiful both in mind and body, and Jill with her sweetness and love,her sympathy and tenderness, was Poll's very own. She was built on hermodel--the same features, the same dark eyes, the same thick coils ofraven-black hair; a trifle more of refinement in the girl than in themother; a shade or two of greater beauty; added to this the glamour ofearly youth, but otherwise Jill was Poll over again.
Heart to heart these two had always understood each other; heart toheart their love was returned. Now Jill was giving herself to another.It was all in the course of nature, and Poll would not have wished itotherwise.
Had things been different, had that ache in her breast never been, andin consequence had that craving for strong drink never seized her, shemight have been happy with Jill's children on her knees.
Had everything been different she might have taken Nat into her heart,and loved him for her daughter's sake.
But as things were, Poll felt that she could never love Nat; foralthough he little guessed it, he was the means of separating her fromJill.
Poll lay awake all night close to the girl; she could not possibly wastethe precious hours in sleep, because she meant to go away from her forever in the morning. Poll felt that it would be utterly impossible forher to keep sober always, and it was part of Nat's creed that sobrietywas godliness.
She had made up her mind what to do with the quick, fierce tenacitywhich was peculiar to her, when she heard the young man speak.
The chemist had told her only too plainly that she must go into ahospital or die. Poll preferred death to the hospital; but Jill shouldnot witness her dying tortures, and Jill's husband should never knowthat her mother had been one of those base, low women who get rid oftheir miseries in drink.
Jill did not want Poll any longer now, and because she loved her, thepoor soul determined to go away and leave her.
"I'll drink the stuff in the little bottle to-morrow night," murmuredPoll. "I'll want it then, but I like to lie wide-awake and close to thechild to-night. When the light comes in I'll look well at all herfeatures. I know 'em, of course--none better; but I'll take a goodfilling look at 'em when the light comes in."
She lay still herself, great pulses throbbing all over her body, thepain without becoming gradually less in intensity, by reason of thegreater pain which surged and surged within.
There was one creature whom she loved with the fierce, hungry intensityof an untutored, a wild and yet in some ways a noble nature. The bondbetween her and her daughter was about to be severed. She herself,through her own deed, would cut the cord which bound them.
The light stole in at the window, at first faintly, then with more andmore glad beams of sunshine and joy. Poll heard a neighbouring clockstrike three. She said to herself:
"I'll lie and look at the child until the half-hour sounds, then I'llget up."
The minutes dragged themselves away, too slowly in one sense, tooquickly in another. The solemn boom of the half-hour rang out into thesleeping morning. Poll rose very softly, and dressed herself.
"I must have some money," she murmured. "I'll take a sovereign or twoout of Jill's stocking. She'd be glad to give it me, bless her! andI'll write on a scrap of paper that I took it, and that I'm gone, andthat she'll never be troubled by me no more. Oh, poor Jill, it 'ud becruel to write like that, for I never did trouble her. With all mysins, I never troubled my gel. We was knit too close, heart to heart,for either of us to trouble t'other."
Poll stooped down as she spoke, drew away the bed-clothes, and puttingher hand lightly and softly against Jill's warm throat, revealed anarrow blue ribbon, to which a key was attached. Taking a pair ofscissors out of her pocket, she cut the ribbon, and with the key in herhand went into the kitchen.
She opened the drawer of the bureau, and pulling out the old stocking,opened it, and spread the contents of a small gingham bag on the top ofthe dresser.
Jill, by care and management, had collected between four and fivepounds. There were three sovereigns, a half-sovereign, some silver, andsome coppers in the bag. Besides this there was a little parcel wrappedup carefully in tissue paper, and brown-paper over it. Poll openedthis, and saw that it contained five bright-looking sovereigns.
"I didn't know Jill was so rich," she murmured. "It's a good thing:she'll have somewhat to furnish her house with. Now, how little can Ido with? A sovereign and ten shillings' worth of silver. That will be'eaps. Oh, my gel, I wouldn't rob you of a penny ef I could help it,but you are the last to grudge it to me."
She returned the rest of the money to the old stocking, and shut thedrawer. Then she considered what sort of note she should write to Jill.It must be brief, for time was passing. It must also be brief becausepoor Poll was a very bad scribe.
She found a sheet of thin paper, and dipping a rusty pen into a pennybottle of ink, scribbled a few words.
"_Dear Jill_,
"_This is to say as I'll come back again when I'm cured. I'll ha' nopain when I come back, my gel, so you make yourself 'appy. I 'as tookone pound in gold, and ten shillings in silver out of the old stocking_.
"_Your Mother_.
"_Tell Nat as I 'as my eye on 'im, and according as he deals with you,according will I think on him_."
Poll left the letter open on the top of the bureau; then she went backfor a moment into the inner room.
Jill was lying fast asleep. Poll bent over her with a long, hungrygaze. She stooped her head, and lightly, very lightly, kissed the younggirl on her forehead.
"Mother," murmured Jill in her sleep; "oh, poor mother! oh, poormother!"
A look of pain came over her face; she turned away with a profound andeven careworn sigh.
"My gel!" responded Poll. "Oh, yes, it's best and right for me to go."
Instead of dressing herself in her usual picturesque fashion, with acoloured apron and gay turban, Poll put on a grey shawl, and a dowdy,old-fashioned bonnet of rusty black lace. She tied up her other clothesin a big handkerchief, and without again glancing at her daughter leftthe room.
A moment later she was in the street. She had not troubled herself togive the boys a farewell look. In the intense pain of the other partingshe had forgotten their very existence.
A few moments after she had left the house, the clock from theneighbouring church struck four. Jill often awoke at four o'clock, butthis morning she slept on, quite oblivious of the passing of time.
Not so, however, one of the occupants of the press bed in the kitchen.This small person opened his ferrety blue eyes, wriggled his freckledface above the bed-clothes, and darted a quick, sly glance round theapartment.
"Oh, jiminy!" he murmured, "I 'ope as Bob won't wake till I 'as done it.Oh, my eyes and stars! what a chance is here."
He crept quietly out of bed, and with the light agile movements of alittle cat went across the kitchen. He reached the bureau, and bendingdown pulled the drawer open, which contained Jill's hard-earned savings.
Tom was a little person who possessed neither conscience nor fear. Hesoon emptied the contents of the stocking into his eager little palm.The brown-paper parcel which contained Nat's five sovereigns wasclutched in his other hand. He then ran across the room, slipped thecoins into his trousers pockets, put his trousers on and returned to thebureau.
His mother's letter, wide-open and exposed to the view of all who caredto read, attracted his attention. Thanks to the board-school which heattended, Tom could both read and write. He soon acquainted himselfwith the contents of the letter, and murmuring "jiminy!" once againunder his breath, went up to the bed where Bob still slept.
Tom stood on one leg, and contemplated Bob's sleeping face with itsupturned nose, and its thick crop of freckles, for half a minute. Thentaking up an old shoe, he fl
ung it at the sleeper and awaited theresult.
Bob started up with a howl.
"Hold your noise this minute," said Tom, falling upon Bob, and halfthrottling him. "Hold your noise, and I'll tell yer some'at. See here,Bob, I ha' got some swag, and ef you make a row Jill 'ull hear us."
The word "swag" had a magical effect on Bob. He stopped crying, wipedhis dirty face, and looked at his brother with a world of wonder anddesire lighting up each insignificant feature.
"Oh, my word, Tom!" he said, "is it gingerbread?"
"Gingerbread!" echoed Tom, in a voice of scorn. "You see yere. If yousplit I'll split you. Yere, ain't this prime?"
Tom thrust his hands deep into
