Home > Authors Index > William H. G. Kingston > Mountain Moggy; The Stoning of the Witch > This page
Mountain Moggy; The Stoning of the Witch, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston |
||
Chapter 5 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER FIVE. The sky was bright and blue; a fresh breeze, invigorating and pure, came from the distant sea; the sun, just risen above the mountain tops, shone down with undiminished lustre on the smiling valley, and all nature sparkled with life and light, as the young Morgans, having finished breakfast, assembled at the hall-door to accompany their father on his proposed walk. The elder ones remarked that he looked graver than usual, but hoped that the fresh air and exercise would soon restore his spirits. They all enjoyed a walk with him, for he generally took care to make it interesting, by giving them information on one or more of the various natural objects they met with. There was not a tree, a flower, or a stone, about which he had not something to say which was well worth hearing. Charles called them "Father's peripatetic lectures." This morning, however, the Doctor was unusually silent. His daughter Anna walked by his side, affectionately waiting, in the hopes of an opportunity to bring forward some subject to enliven him. Charles also accompanied him. The rest of the children kept behind, wondering where he was going; Willie especially sauntering at some distance, and thinking that he would rather have been out by himself or with some of the boys with whom he had lately associated. Charles, finding that his father was not inclined to give one of his lectures, bethought him of a subject likely to interest him. "I say, father, I wonder when Frank will be here. His ship was expected at Plymouth every day. I sent a letter for him to Fox, giving him full directions how he was to find his way here, so that if he could get leave he might come up at once. My only fear is that he may not have any cash for his journey. I begged Fox to advance it, but Frank may not think of asking him. He'll have a great deal to tell us about the Pacific and the coral islands, the Sandwich Islanders, and the other natives, once horrible savages, now mostly Christians. And those people of Fiji--the Black Cannibals of the Pacific as they were called--I want to know if they are as bad as has been represented." "Yes, your brother Frank will have much to say," remarked the Doctor, and again relapsed into silence. "I hope he may bring Tom Holman with him. I should like to see the man who saved his life, that I might thank him as he deserves for his bravery," said Anna. "Dear Frank, if it had not been for Holman we might never have seen him again." "Yes, indeed, I should like to see Holman, the fine and gallant fellow," exclaimed Charles. "The puzzle will be how to get him here. I know that seamen have difficulty in obtaining leave till their ship is paid off, and then there is the expense of the journey. However, I will do my best to manage that." "And I will help you," said Anna. "I will sell some of my fowls, and the egg money of last year, which I have never spent, and old Mrs Taffety's present, which mamma says I have a right to do just what I like with. Oh, there will be no difficulty about money matters if Frank can get leave for Tom Holman. It will be very nice to see him and to thank him, though it will be difficult to thank him enough." Dr Morgan had not joined in the conversation of his elder children. He appeared to be absorbed in his own thoughts. Once or twice he glanced round to ascertain if William was following. He continued for some time along the road leading to the village, and then suddenly turned into a path leading up the mountain. William began to feel not very comfortable when he saw this. Still his father might possibly intend to cross over the mountain. He lingered still farther behind, and when he saw him turn off again up the uneven path which led to poor Old Moggy's hut he was strongly inclined to run away. Surely his father would not wish to go inside the hut. What could he have to say to the old woman? However, go on he must. Fortunately, Charles dropped behind the Doctor, and Anna and William hurried up to him. "Charley, is papa really going into the witch's den?" he exclaimed in a tone of alarm. "She will be doing him some harm, I am sure." "Nonsense, Willie," answered Charles. "I did not fancy that a fellow with a head on his shoulders could be such a goose." "Goose or no goose, I don't wish to fall into the old witch's clutches, nor papa, nor any of us either," muttered William, as Charles walked on again rapidly to catch up their father, and to give a helping hand to the two younger ones. Willie's foolish fears increased when he saw his father walk up to the door of the hut, and still more alarmed did he become when the Doctor, lifting the latch, went in, and then turned round and beckoned to him to enter, though Arthur and Mabel were allowed to remain outside. Most unwillingly he obeyed; but when he got inside the door, not a step farther could he bring himself to advance, and from the furtive glances which he ever and anon cast through the doorway, it was very evident that he would make his escape if he dared. Even Charles and Anna drew back from the pitiable object which met their sight. The light streaming through the window fell on a low pallet, on which, covered with a sheet, lay the form of Mountain Moggy. By her side sat Jenny Davis, whom William recognised as her champion who had threatened him and his companions with condign punishment if they ever again attacked the old woman. Something dreadful was going to happen-- William scarcely knew what. A glance his father cast at him made him understand that he must not move. Of course Jenny Davis had told everything. After exchanging a few words with Jenny, the Doctor lifted the sheet from off Moggy's feet. "William, come here and witness the effects of your cruelty," he said in a stern voice, very unlike that in which he was accustomed to address his children. "Now look at those poor burnt hands. You, and those with you, I have no doubt, caused all the pain this poor woman is now suffering; and should she die, at whose door, think you, will the guilt lie?" William could not answer. The Doctor, taking out some salves he had brought with him, began to dress the poor creature's limbs. Anna could not refrain from tears, while she went forward to assist her father and kind Jenny. William stood by without uttering a word, and feeling as he had never felt before. When the sufferer's hands and feet were once more covered up, the Doctor directed Charles to call in the younger children. "Listen to what Jenny Davis will tell you," he said, when they were all assembled round the bed. "Ah, sir, I have a tale to tell which would soften a heart of stone; but I hope none of these young people have hearts of that sort," remarked Jenny, fixing her eyes on William. "She has told me how it all happened, and it may be a warning to that young gentleman never to throw stones at any human being, even though they may be deserted; or, for that matter, at any living creature. They cannot tell where the stone may strike, and what harm it may do. Well, sir, Old Moggy was sitting at her poor fire when those cruel boys came up here again to play off their cowardly tricks. They talk of her imps doing mischief, though they were the imps, and they were doing the mischief, I'm thinking. Stone after stone was thrown in on her. At last one struck the hearth and sent a burning stick under her feet. While she stooped down to remove it, another large one gave her a blow on the head which must have stunned her, for she fell to the ground and her clothes began to burn. The agony she was suffering brought her in some degree to her senses again, when she found herself surrounded by flames, and believed that she was going to be burnt to death. There was nobody near that she knew of to help her, and she couldn't help herself; she knew that, so she prayed for the help of God. Just then the door burst open, and the young gentleman I told you of ran in, and throwing his coat over her, put out the fire. I came in soon after, and helped to put her on the bed. I think that the young gentleman burnt his own hands not a little in tearing off the burning clothes which his coat couldn't cover, but he said it was just nothing, and wouldn't let me look at them even before he went away." "What a brave, noble fellow!" exclaimed Charles. "I should like to have made his acquaintance." "So indeed should I," cried Anna. "Do not you know his name, Jenny?" "No, my sweet miss, I don't," answered the Welshwoman. "But I think I know where it's written, and that's where the names of the cruel, and selfish, and heartless will never be found." "God bless him! God bless him!" said a deep voice from the bed. The children started; it was the voice of Old Moggy. They had not supposed she was listening, much less that she was capable of speaking. The rest of the children remembered William's remarks on the previous evening, and all eyes were turned on him. He stood white as ashes, and trembling in every limb. While they had before been speaking, the window had been darkened by a person passing before it. William had remarked it, and he had taken it into his head that it was that of a person come to carry him off to prison for his misdeeds. The rest had been so interested in what they were hearing that they had not observed that a stranger was near them. "Ye said that she knows the truth; ay, that she does, and practises what the Word of Truth tells us; for instead of railing she blesses, and from her heart forgives them who have ill-treated her," said Jenny. "Poor, harmless, weary soul that she is! Those young ones who stand there can know little of the sorrows and trials she has been called on to endure. She has seen loss of parents, and property, and husband, and child, and her good name, and all that we think makes life pleasant; and now that she has found her way to this lone place, to die in peace, the Evil One has made these lads come up here to mock and torment her. I mind reading of a good prophet going to a certain village in a foreign land, and the lads came out and mocked him, and called him old bald-head, and what do ye think happened? Why, two she-bears came out of a wood and destroyed forty and two of them. I don't mean to say that Old Moggy is like the old prophet, but yet she is aged and friendless; and those who abuse and ill-treat her are, in the eyes of the Almighty, doing a great wickedness; that they are, I'm sure." While Jenny was speaking, the lips of the sufferer were seen to move; and in the same deep tones which had before been heard, the words came forth, "but forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. Yes, yes: oh, I forgive them; they didn't know any better; they thought I was a witch; they thought I could work charms, and had bad power. Oh! they would not have done as they did if they had known of my weary, weary, aching heart; my poor boy underneath the sea--my husband drowned before my eyes--my sad, sad days, my sleepless nights-- my wandering brain--my hunger and thirst--my wretched, wretched life for long, long lonesome years. All these things you did not know of, young gentleman, when you and your companions threw stones at me. Don't think I would curse you for it. No, no. Come near, my children. I bless you, ay! from my heart, all of you. You who ill-treated me and you who never did me harm." Slowly and reluctantly, with awe in their countenances, the children drew still nearer to the bed. The old woman's voice had dropped through weakness and exhaustion, yet she continued-- "My lot has been very hard, very hard; yet I have had a Friend above who has upheld and comforted me. And yet I have had many trials, many trials, many trials. My brain reels and wanders. I think of my husband and my boy, my only boy, many fathoms deep beneath the cold, cold waves, and then my head turns and my heart changes into stone, and I forget where I am and what has happened." The old woman began to ramble, and suddenly burst forth in the wild song which she had been singing on the previous evening. Jenny Davis shook her head, observing, "She'll not be right after this for some time. When the fit comes on her there's no more sense to be looked for till she has had some rest." "I will send her up a quieting draught and some wholesome food, which will probably do her more good than any medicine," said the Doctor, taking Anna's hand, and motioning the others to move towards the door. William had hitherto not spoken a word. "Papa, may I take her up the medicine and food?" he said, and big tears rolled down his cheeks. "Yes, William, you may," was the answer. Dr Morgan and his children had got outside the hut, and were on their way down the steep side of the mountain, when they heard a cheery shout behind them. Turning round, Anna instantly sprang up the hill, and in another moment was in the arms of a young gentleman who was running down to meet them. "It is Frank! It is Frank!" burst from the lips of the rest. "Why, father! Charley! who would have thought it?" cried the young stranger, warmly greeting them; "and Willie, and Mabel, and Arthur! What big people they have become! I little expected to have found you so soon; and you were in that poor old woman's hut, too! Well, that is curious! The truth is, I am lost, or rather I couldn't find you. I mislaid Charley's letter, and though I thought I knew the name of the place, I found, when I got into the country, that I hadn't the slightest notion of what it was; and after wandering about for a couple of days, I determined to write to old Evans, at Bangor, and to await his answer at the inn on the other side of the mountain." "Then, Frank, you are the young gentleman who saved Old Moggy's life," said Anna. "How delightful!" "Oh, did I? I merely threw my jacket over the poor creature's legs, and put out the fire which had caught her clothes and would have burnt her," answered the midshipman. "I am very glad I was of use, though it's not a thing to be proud of. It was very fortunate, however, for me, for I don't know how otherwise I should have found you. There is one thing I should like to do, and that is to thrash the heartless young monkeys who threw stones at the poor woman. If I can find them I will." William looked down, overwhelmed with shame, and almost wished that Frank _would_ thrash him. "Then what brought you back to the hut, my boy?" asked the Doctor. "Oh, to look after the poor old woman," said Frank, "I understood from the nurse--Jenny Davis she told me was her name--that she has no friends, and so I thought it was but right and proper to come back and see how she was getting on. I dropped a bundle with some old shirts and other things in at the window; but seeing some people there, not dreaming that they were all of you, I of course wouldn't go in. I waited, expecting you soon to go away, and fortunately I made you out, or I should have gone back to my inn, and not known that I had been close to you." "Bless you, my boy, bless you! may you ever act in the same way from principle, and not merely from the impulse of the heart, good as that may be," said the Doctor, warmly, pressing Frank's hand, and undoubtedly feeling the contrast between his conduct and that of William. "And now let us hear something about yourself," he continued, in a more cheerful tone than he had hitherto been speaking in. The young sailor had plenty to talk about, though, as he remarked, he found his words apt to block up the hatchway, he was in such a hurry to get them out of the hold. Charles and Anna were eager to hear about Tom Holman, and William would have liked to hear what his brother was saying, but, in shame, he hung back some way behind the rest, and when they reached the house his father told him to go to his room, and wait there till summoned Frank saw that there was something wrong, but forbore to inquire, hoping soon to have an opportunity of pleading for the culprit. "Ah, that comes, whatever it is, of his being brought up by old Becky Ap Reece," he thought to himself. "I am heartily glad he is free of her, though he may never get a farthing of her money. He was a plucky little chap, and with good training something might be made of him; but she treated him like one of her poodles, and would soon have made him of no more use in the world than a puppy dog." Though Frank Morgan was thoughtful, he was one of the merriest fellows under the sun, and among the lightest of heart though not of head. Frank's return brought life and spirit into the house; for Charles, though highly esteemed, was grave and somewhat reserved; Anna was sedate and quiet; and William, since his return home, had been very troublesome, and was looked upon generally as an arrant pickle; while the Doctor and Mrs Morgan were so much occupied that they were unable to think of amusements for their children. Everything, however, was to give way in order to make Frank enjoy his short visit at home; and picnics and several pleasant excursions were planned that he might find the time as pleasant as possible. _ |
||