 | CHAPTER XI. The forsaken |  |
11. CHAPTER XI.
Is a piteous wreck in its loveliness, for the lost one's brain is crazed.
Twere better she were sleeping, within the silent tomb;
Oh, never more to her frenzied eye, the flowers of life shall bloom.
Wetmore.
The morn arose brightly after the storm, and the
elements that had contended like fiends during the
gloom of night, now smiled as sweetly as a wearied
child. The sky was clear, the sun was bright, and
the bracing north wind was scarcely audible as it played
among the ice-covered groves and swept over the
encrusted plains. Paul's cottage was surrounded by
a wood, through which there ran a horse-path leading
to the Lancaster road. Along this path the corporal,
mounted upon Paul's horse, directed the steps of the
prisoner, who was guarded by the two stoutest of the
countrymen, and the others with Madge followed promiscuously
in the rear. Drone chattered familiarly
with Paul, and reminded him of his inhospitable reception
the preceding night at the Crooked Billet, and
concluded by protesting that if he had only known his
man, the business should have been settled on the
spot. Paul, however, made no reply to the boasting
corporal—not even by a look, or a contemptuous curl
of the lip, but he moved on gloomily, with his eyes
fixed upon the path along which he travelled.
They were still in sight of the cottage, when Madge,
who had deviated slightly from the path, uttered an
exclamation of horror, upon which the corporal commanded
the guards to halt, and then he rode to the
spot where the woman stood in violent agitation, and
beheld a spectacle calculated to make even his uncouth
feelings shudder. At the root of a lofty oak
lay the dead body of a new-born babe, half covered
with fallen leaves and snow. They had scarcely recovered
from the first shock occasioned by this discovery,
when the figure of a female was seen, at a short
distance, slowly moving through the wood, as if she
wished to escape observation. One of the countrymen
went in pursuit of her, and as he approached, her feet
refused their office, and she fell to the ground, exclaiming—
“Have mercy! I did not murder it; I did not murder
it!”
The countryman seized hold of her.
“O! whither would you take me! For pity's sake
do not drag me so. I tell you the little innocent lives
yet. It was very cold, and I feared that it would freeze
to death, and so I covered it to keep it warm. Come
with me, and I will show you where it is sleeping
sweetly.”
“You must answer this before a judge of the court,”
cried the countryman. “Stand up, you baggage.”
“Alas! I am too weak to stand, but I will crawl to
the spot where the cherub sleeps. This way; follow
me, but tread lightly, lest you break its slumbers.
This way; this way.”
“Stand up, I say,” repeated the countryman, and
dragged her to her feet. She stood for a few moments,
and then sunk to the earth again. It is a trait in human
nature, that as soon as a fellow mortal is accused
of a crime, to consider him beyond the pale of humanity,
and deserving of all the indignity and odium
attendant upon a full and open conviction of guilt. The
to the trouble to distinguish the accused from the criminal,
and too frequently the most unfounded charge
proves sufficiently venomous to poison the public mind,
and crush the brightest reputation. Corporal Drone
by this time came up, and recognising Miriam, interceded
in her behalf, and rescued her from the insults
of the countryman.
The remainder of the party drew nigh from motives
of curiosity, and Gordon could not conceal his emotion
as he rivited his dark gray eyes upon the miserable
being before him. His feelings did not escape the
notice of the jealous Madge, who exclaimed scornfully,
and with an air of triumph—
“There is your dirty trull: why don't you go comfort
her now? And is this the wicked drab that I was
slighted for? Heaven mend the taste of some people,
but dirt will mix with dirt, in spite of every thing.”
“Peace! thou foul-mouthed hag,” cried Paul, “for
her greatest crimes had less of guilt in them than your
brightest virtues; but woman cannot feel compassion
for the fallen of her own sex.”
“But you have a large share of compassion for the
whole of us, it seems,” returned the other, scornfully;
“well, it comes in good time, for you stand in need of
compassion yourself at present.” Our knight of the
post turned from her, with all the dignity that a gentleman
of his nice feelings could call to his aid under such
embarrassing circumstances.
The corporal raised the sick woman from the ground;
she made two or three steps, but unable to support herself,
sunk exhausted in his arms, and scarcely articulated—
“For mercy's sake, let me lie down and die: I wish
to die, for I am no longer fit to live. But take care of
the little babe when I am gone, for it is a sweet babe.”
“Make a litter of saplings,” said Paul, “upon which
you can carry her to my old friend, Ephraim Horn's
was about returning to Gordon's cottage to get an
axe, for the purpose of making the litter, when Paul
added, “Bring a few blankets with you, for the poor
girl's situation requires every tenderness.”
“Very fine, upon my life! but the devil a piece of
blanket shall go out of my house,” exclaimed Madge,
in a shrill key, at the same time making use of appropriate
gesticulation.
“You will let me have covering for my babe,” said
Miriam, in a supplicating tone. “I care not for myself—I
can bear the cold, but the poor little innocent,
I fear, may take harm.”
“Bring the blankets, I say,” repeated Paul, “and
do you hear, pillows too, for they will be needed.”
“How kind and considerate!” said Miriam. “I
will bring the babe to thank you. He lies sleeping
at the foot of yon tree. I covered him up warm,
lest the cold should reach him. Let us steal softly
there, and see how sweetly he sleeps.”
Madge again protested against converting her property
to such a use, until the corporal interfered with
the loud voice and strong arm of authority, when her
objections were silenced, and the countryman immediately
procured all that had been called for. It is remarkable,
how much more imperative the voice of authority
is than that of mercy. The litter was speedily
made, and the unhappy girl, with the dead body of her
child, were placed upon it, and they slowly commenced
their march towards the residence of Ephraim Horn.
Miriam nustled the child in her bosom, and covered it
up.
“How cold it is!” she said. “Poor little sufferer!
it chills me to the very heart, but I will warm it yet.”
She sang a lullaby, and hugging the child closer to her
bosom, rocked her body as if she designed to put it to
sleep. A few minutes after, she uncovered her bosom,
and held the child to it.
“What are you doing?” said Madge, who was walking
beside the litter, and had observed her movements
for some time; “Cover yourself, or you will take your
death of cold.”
“The poor thing must be fed,” said Miriam, “but
it is strange it will not take the breast.”
“Cover yourself,” said Madge, whose rugged feelings
were touched. “Cover yourself,” she repeated,
and threw the blanket over her bosom.
“You doubtless are a mother,” said Miriam. “Can
you tell why the child refuses the breast.”
Ephraim was a substantial farmer; his large stone
house and outbuildings indicated the wealth of their
possessor, and the comforts of those who resided within
their walls: but thick walls, though they keep out
the weather and unwelcome visiters, do not unfrequently
exclude humanity, and all compassion for the
sufferings of others.
As the corporal and his company approached the
house, through a long avenue of lofty trees, he ejaculated—
“This is comfortable! my ideas, to a hair, on the
subject of domestic happiness, and when my country
shall no longer require my services, I shall seat myself
down like friend Ephraim here, and enjoy the remnant
of a life of successful enterprise.”
The corporal moved on in silence, big with the conceit
of his importance, until he arrived under the porch
of the mansion, when he paused for a moment, and
taking a survey of the premises, said—
“Well, Paul is right; this is the place to obtain the
necessary relief for that suffering woman;” and accordingly
he knocked at the door with rather more
authority than wisdom. Having waited a few minutes
and no answer being returned, he repeated his summons
with redoubled vigour, determined to make himself
heard; and Ephraim shortly after appeared, unlocked
the door, passed through, and closed it after
him.
“Well, friend, thee makes a great deal of unnecessary
noise; what is thy business with me?”
“Charity,” replied the corporal, pointing at the
litter.
Ephraim raised his eyes, paused for a moment, and
then said—
“Thee should have gone to the door the other side
of the house, and not have put me to all this trouble
for nothing.”
“I have knocked at the wrong door, sure enough,”
thought the corporal; and then resuming his confidence,
proceeded—“as this young woman is sorely
afflicted, I came to ask of you some means of conveyance.”
“And where would thee take her to, friend?”
“It behoves us to take her to prison,” replied the
corporal.
“Then it behoves the law to provide a mode of
conveyance,” said Ephraim, gravely.
“You are right,” answered the corporal, “but
christian charity should be extended by the mightiest
of mankind, even to the most fallen of God's creatures.”
“Charity begins at home,” responded Ephraim.
“And your's is likely to remain there,” said Gordon,
taking a step or two from the crowd, towards
Ephraim, who shrunk back in dismay at his approach.
“Well, friend Horn,” continued the corporal, “as
you have refused to grant me a trifling favour, I have
a small demand to make as a right. Here is your advertisement
offering a reward of five pounds, hard money,
for the apprehension of Paul Gordon; and here,
in my custody, you behold that alarming personage.”
Saying which, he took the advertisement from his
pocket and commenced reading it.
“What thee says is all very true,” replied Ephraim,
coolly: “but before I pay the reward Paul must be
prosecuted to conviction.”
The corporal's countenance suddenly fell from the
height of expectation to the depth of disappointment,
and he remained gazing at the quaker in silent astonishment.
By this time Horn's wife had come to the
door; a tallow-faced personage, with a clean long-eared
cap, who made up in rotundity her deficiency in
longitude.
“Ephraim, what is it these people would have?”
inquired his wife, taking a survey of the company; and
on being informed she approached the litter, where the
wretched Miriam lay, almost unconscious of what was
passing around her. “As I live, it is the impure one
we cast from our house but yesterday:—good friends
begone; her presence is painful and offensive to the
eyes of the undefiled.”
“Then afford us the means of conveying her out of
your sight,” replied the corporal.
“Hence, thou reviler,” cried Ephraim, “for it is
written, `the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.”'
“Well, we wish to get out of your congregation as
soon as possible,” observed the pertinacious Drone.
“He revileth, yea, verily, and his words are abomination
to my ears,” exclaimed the fat wife of lean
Ephraim.
“The devil they are; your eyes are offended with
the sight of wretchedness; and your ears abominate
a petition of charity:—which way are you travelling;
up or down, old lady?”
“He is one of the scornful, Ephraim, come in and
hearken not to his voice; for like the blighted willows
on the banks of the Jordan”—
“I am not a blighted willow, and I was never on
the banks of the Jordan in my life.”
“On which the children of Israel hung their harps
and wept,” continued the old lady, with a strong nasal
twang.
“This is nothing to the purpose,” interrupted the
not?”
“We will praise the Lord, for he hath dealt bountifully
with us,” continued Mrs. Horn, “but the good
things of this world are for the righteous, and not the
unclean.”
“Leave off canting, and give a plain answer, yes
or no.”
“No,” said Ephraim, and turned on his heel.
“We will not lend our weakness to strengthen the
enemies of the Lord,” canted forth his wife, and followed
his example.
“Then go in,” cried the corporal, “and worship
Dagon and the golden calf.”
“Thou art a sinful reviler.”
“Moses and mammon; Aaron and his rod.”
“Hear how he blasphemes; verily his voice offendeth
mine ear.”
“The locusts of Egypt; the frogs and the bullrushes.”
“Verily, Satan moveth his lips.”
“Jephthah and his daughter; Sampson and the
Philistines.”
“We will shun the presence of the scoffer.”
“Balaam and his ass; Shadrach, Meshach, and
Abednego.”
The corporal pursued Ephraim and his wife with a
shower of words until they closed the door in his face;
he then took a survey of the house from the roof to
the foundation, and said—
“High walls keep out charity, and may your niggardly
souls have a fine crop of grass before your
inhospitable doors.”
They took up the litter again, and proceeded to a
farm house about half a mile distant. As Miriam was
too unwell to be removed she was left there to recover
strength, and the corporal proceeded with Paul to
prison.
| CHAPTER XI. The forsaken | |