CHAPTER XXI.
A CHILD'S CREED.
"I was born, sir, when the crab was ascending and my affairs go backwards."--CONGREVE.
"Heaven lies about us in our infancy."--WORDSWORTH.
Thorold Chaytor was not an imaginative man; he was neither emotional norimpressionable, and more than once lately he had puzzled himself overthe singular persistency with which his long-lost brother Tristramhaunted him. For the last two or three years he had hardly thought ofhim, but now, as he crossed the bridge of an evening, little tricks ofspeech and long-forgotten scenes would recur to his memory; but he neverspoke of this to Joanna.
"Poor old Trist, I hope nothing has happened to him," he said to himselfone evening, when the impression of his brother's presence had been sounusually strong that the familiar face had seemed as though it had beenlimned against the darkness. And then he thought sadly, and shuddered atthe thought, how it was a well-known psychological fact that people atthe point of death had often appeared, or rather seemed to appear, tosome relative or friend.
"Of course, it is only animal magnetism--the transmission ofthought--the influence of one mind over another," he thought--"a strongwave-beat of sympathy. But I should not have thought that I was the manfor that sort of experience." And then he put this latch-key into thedoor, and let himself in.
As he hung up his hat on its accustomed peg, he was aware of an unusualsilence in the house. The parlour door was not opened, and there was noJoanna, with her irritating question, "Is that you, Thorold?" Neitherdid he hear her soft, gliding footsteps overhead.
"Perhaps she has gone to the Red House after all," he said to himself.And the thought of an evening of blissful solitude pleased him well. Butas he entered the sitting-room, he started. There were no preparationsfor the evening meal. The tea-things were still on the table, and, tohis intense surprise, a child--actually a child--was fast asleep on thecouch by the fire.
Thorold crossed the room softly, and contemplated the little strangerwith puzzled eyes. "It must be one of Joa's waifs and strays," hethought--for he was aware of his sister's charitable propensities. Andyet she hardly looked like a tramp's child.
"Very likely the poor little thing has lost her way, and Joa is takingher in for the night," he continued. "Poor child, she seems tired out."And then his eyes softened, as he noticed how carefully Joanna hadwrapped her up in her old fur cloak.
The next moment he heard his sister's footsteps on the stairs, and wentout into the passage to question her. But when he saw her face, he wasstruck dumb with astonishment.
Joanna was looking radiant. She was dimpling and smiling like the girlJoa of old, and her blue eyes were shining through happy tears.
"Oh, Thorold, why are you so late. We have wanted you so!" And Joanna'sthin white hands grasped him almost convulsively.
"Who is that child?" he whispered, loudly. "Is it some one you havefound in the street?" Then, in her excitement, she gave him anhysterical little push.
"You have seen her! Oh, Thorold, is she not like him? His little Betty!My darling Tristram's little Betty!" and as he stared at her, and turnedpale--for a sudden prevision of the truth had come to him--she sobbedout, "Yes, yes, Tristram has come--he is upstairs; he is in your room,Thorold. Go to him, dear, while I get your supper ready." And thenThorold drew a long breath, and darted upstairs. And Joanna, cryingsoftly, out of sheer bliss and gratitude, busied herself in womanlyministrations.
Thorold was thankful to meet his brother alone. In spite of his reservehe was a man of deep feelings, and when he felt Tristram's mighty graspof his hand, and heard his familiar voice say in broken accents, "Theo,dear old fellow!--dear old chap!" he was almost too moved to speak.
"Why have you not written to us all these years?" were his firstcoherent words; but Tristram shook his head--he had no excuse to offer.He had drifted from place to place, seeking work and not always findingit, and he did not wish his friends to know how hardly things had gonewith him.
"I was always a proud beggar, Thorold," he said, with a sigh, "but myback is pretty well broken now, and there's Bet, you see."
"And Ella--where is your wife, Trist?" Then Tristram turned his headaside.
"Ella is dead. I buried her two years ago," he returned, sadly. "Poordear Ella, she never had her good things in this life. 'You have takenme for better or for worse, but there has been no better in it at all,'I often said to her; but she never liked me to say it. Ah, she was thebest wife a man could have, but she lies in the cemetery at Melbourne,and little Theo lies with her--I called him after you, old chap. But henever got over the fever. I think it was the loss of the boy thatfinished Ella, for she never seemed to hold up her head again."
Tristram evidently felt his wife's death acutely, and Thorold, withquiet tact, said a word or two of sympathy and then changed the subject.
Before their brief talk was over, and they went downstairs to joinJoanna, Thorold found out that Tristram was utterly unchanged. Thehandsome ne'er-do-well, as Althea used to call him, was only a littleolder, and perhaps a trifle rougher, but he was the same irresponsible,happy-go-lucky, easy-tempered Tristram of old.
Shiftless and indolent, he had drifted wherever the tide of circumstancehad carried him. Sometimes he had worked and at other times he hadstarved; but when any good Samaritan stretched out a helping hand anddrew him out from the Slough of Despond, he would pull himself togetherand go on gaily, as though the sun of prosperity had always shone onhim. Never were there two brothers so widely dissimilar. But Tristramwas no evil-living prodigal, no black sheep, to be dreaded and shunnedby all right-minded people; he had loved his wife, and had treated herwell, and the poor woman had repaid him with the truest devotion; andnow his sister had received him with tears of joy. His sins were thesins of a weak nature, a nature that disliked effort, and chose thesoftest paths for itself, and which landed him in strange placessometimes.
"I have made an awful muddle of my life," he said, when Thoroldquestioned him with kindly interest. "Don't you recollect the dear oldgovernor said something of the kind on his death-bed? Upon my word, oldchap, I think I am the unluckiest beggar that ever walked this earth.Nothing prospers with me. If I make a little money I somehow contrive tolose it. I am pretty nearly at the end of my tether, I can tell youthat?"
"What made you leave Melbourne!" asked Thorold, in his calm, judicialway. Then Tristram shrugged his shoulders and seemed unwilling to answerthe question.
"Well, I was a fool," he returned, presently; and he pulled his roughmoustache a little fiercely. "The biggest fool out, if you will; but Igot into a regular panic. There were two of them lying there, and Betwas seedy, and I got it into my head that the climate of Melbourne didnot suit her; and then I thought what a fine thing it would be if Joacould look after her a bit. A child wants a woman's care; and as Ismoked my pipe that evening I had such a fit of home-sickness that Iwas nearly crazy. I had a bit of money put by, and I took our berths thenext day; and here we are, old chap, and you must just make the best ofus;" and Tristram brought down his hand heavily on his brother'sshoulder.
They went downstairs after this, and found Betty awake and sitting onher aunt's lap. The little one was chattering happily to her, and Joannawas fondly stroking the plait of fair hair. "So he says to me, 'You aredad's Betty, are you, my little Miss?' and I said, 'Yes, of course, Mr.Captain, that is what daddie does always call me,' and he laughed in hisbeard, oh! such a great laugh."
"Why, Bet, you chatterbox, are you talking about your friend thecaptain?" exclaimed Tristram. "Come here, you monkey, and speak to UncleTheo;" and Betty came with ready obedience.
"I am very glad to see you, Uncle Theo," she said, gravely, slipping herlittle hand into his. And Thorold stooped down and kissed her cheek;then a little awkwardly he lifted her on his knee, and scrutinised thechildish features. Bet's blue eyes opened rather widely; she was vaguelyalarmed by her new uncle's solemnity.
"Daddie," she said, after a few minutes' silent endurance. "Does
notUncle Theo like me? He do stare so. And he has such big eyes." For, evento wee Betty, "the noticeable man, with large grey eyes" was aformidable being at close quarters.
They all laughed at this; and Thorold kissed her again, and told her torun to Aunt Joa and she would make her more comfortable. But to hisastonishment Bet refused to leave him. Her nature was a curiouslysensitive one, and she had got it into her small mind that her plainspeaking had hurt him, and that she must somehow make it up with him.
"I don't mind big eyes if they are nice ones," she said, graciously;"and yours are pretty nice, Uncle Theo."
Bet was rather aggrieved when her flattering speech was received withfresh mirth. She was not so sure after that that she did not like AuntJoa much the best.
When supper was over, Bet went to bed. Joanna had refused to part withher, and had carried her off to her own room. To the jaded, disappointedwoman, the sight of Bet kneeling by the bedside and saying her simpleprayers was very sweet and touching.
"God bless dear daddie, and my own dear mammie and dear little brotherTheo, and Uncle Theo and Aunt Joa, too, for ever and ever.--Amen."
"Bet, darling," whispered Joanna, pressing the little white-gownedfigure tenderly in her arms, "did father teach you those prayers?"
"Yes, he did teach me," returned Bet, sleepily; and then she roused up."There was an old woman once, Aunt Joa, she was a silly old woman, andshe did say to dad, 'Why do you let that baby pray for her mother? I amquite shocked,' and dad, he did say, 'I am sorry, ma'am, that _you_should be shocked, but I don't think the angels are a bit offendedbecause my little girl asks God to bless one of the dearest of mothers.'Oh, I did laugh, I was so pleased when dad said that!"
When Joanna went downstairs, she found the two brothers talking over thefire. She sat down beside Tristram, but on this evening there was notangled skein in her hands; they were folded placidly in her lap. It wasoccupation enough for her to look at Tristam's brown, weather-beatenface, and to listen to his voice. Now and then he looked at her with akind smile.
"Trist, do you know that Thorold has nearly paid off father's debts?"she said, presently. Then Tristram regarded his brother almost with awe.
"Oh, you were always a fine fellow, Theo," he said, enviously. "You arethe good elder brother, you know, and I am the prodigal." Here he sighedheavily. "Well, I am weary of my husks, I want to turn over a new leafand settle down. You will find me some work, old chap, and I'll stick toit like a Trojan, I give you my word I will."
"Work is not so easy to find," returned Thorold, quietly, "but I will dowhat I can to help you. I am pretty busy myself, for I have to get up animportant case. We will talk about ways and means to-morrow."
"Yes, and I must be going to my diggings now, or Mother Grimson willthink I am lost. She's a decent body, Mother Grimson, and has been verygood to my Bet." As Tristram rose from his chair, Joanna caught hold ofhis arm.
"Wait a moment, Trist--I want to ask Thorold something before you go.Why should not Trist and Betty come here?--at least for a time. There isplenty of room, and I could look after Bet--and Jemima is so fond ofchildren. Do have them, my dear, it will make me so happy;" and Joannatimidly put her hand on Thorold's arm.
"No, no!" returned Tristram; but he spoke a little hoarsely. "You are agood creature, Joa, but I must not take advantage of your kindness. Ihave made my own bed, and it is a hard one, and I must lie on it." Buthe looked at his brother very wistfully as he said this.
There was no hesitation in Thorold's manner.
"Joanna is right," he said, calmly, "you had better come to us, Trist,at least for a time, while you are looking for a berth to suit you;" andTristram accepted this offer with gratitude.
"Oh, Thorold, you have made us both so happy!" exclaimed Joanna,gratefully, when Tristram had left them. "Bet is such a darling, I couldnot bring myself to part with her." But Thorold only smiled at herwithout speaking.
When Joanna had gone up to her room, he sat down by the fire. He wantedto think over things quietly. The millstone that had been so long roundhis neck was slipping off, and now he must adjust his shoulders to a newburden.
The wanderer had returned, and he and his helpless child were to bereceived under his roof. Was he glad or sorry for this? Was the burdenor the joy the greater? Would his home life be gladdened or stillfurther depressed by these new inmates? Thorold could not answer thesequestions; his straightforward, sincere nature only grasped the onefact.
"It is my duty. With all his faults and follies, he is my only brother.God do so to me and more also, if I refuse to help my own flesh andblood!"
Althea was very much moved when Waveney carried home the news thatevening. She drove down to High Street so early the next morning thatJoanna was still doing her marketing. She found Tristram sitting by thefire, with Bet on his knee. He put down the child when he saw astranger.
"Do you remember an old friend, Tristram?" she said, holding out herhand, and looking at him kindly. Then a sudden light dawned on him.
"Is it--can it be Althea?" he asked; and as she smiled he wrung herhands so energetically that she winced with pain. "Oh, yes, of course, Irecognise you now. You are just the same, Althea. You are not a bitchanged all these years."
"No, I have only grown older; we all do that, you know. And this isyour little girl, Tristram? But she is not like you."
"No, Bet takes after her mother; but Ella was pretty, and Bet is not,bless her." Then Betty, who was snugly ensconced in Althea's arm, peepedout at her father with a protesting face.
"Did you want your little Bet to be pretty, dad?" she asked, rathersadly.
"No, my pet," he returned, laughing. "I don't want her any different."
"Oh, I am glad of that," returned the child; and then she frowned,anxiously. "You are quite sure, dad? I could try very hard, you know;every one can try hard to be pretty." And then, in a low voice, "And Icould ask God to help me. Mother always did say, I might ask foranything I want; and I could just say, 'Dad wants his little girl to bereal pretty, so please make me so for ever and for ever.--Amen.'"
Tristram looked at Althea with a smile; he was used to Bet's quaintspeeches. He was surprised to see that Althea's eyes were full of tears.
"How beautiful it is!" she sighed. "The faith of little children, how itshames us poor worldlings!" But at that moment Joanna entered the room,and Bet, with a joyful exclamation, ran to meet her.
Mollie's Prince: A Novel Page 22
