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Mountain Moggy; The Stoning of the Witch, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 7 |
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_ CHAPTER SEVEN. Frank had to return to his ship, but after a short cruise he wrote word that he had again got leave to go home; and this time he hoped to be accompanied by his shipmate, the preserver of his life, Tom Holman. The family at the rectory were as eager to see Tom as they were before. Some changes had taken place among them. Willie was very different to what he had been. His masters remarked that he was much improved. From being the most idle, he was now one of the most attentive and obedient of their scholars. His parents, too, believed that they had discovered a real change of heart. His godmother, Miss Becky Ap Reece, had died and left him her heir, her property realising a far larger sum than had been expected; indeed, it was surmised that the poor lady must have lost a considerable portion of her income at cards, or she would have been able to live in better style, or have done more good with it than she had done. As soon as William heard that cousin Becky's property had been left to him, though of course he was ignorant of its value, he entreated that he might give it to Old Moggy to make her comfortable. "What, all, Willie? all your fortune?" asked his father, with a feeling of pleasure about his heart. "O yes, papa, I do not think that I have a right to spend any of it on myself, while she is suffering in consequence of my wickedness," answered Willie, with perfect sincerity. "I rejoice to hear you say so, my dear boy, but the matter is not left in your power, nor indeed in mine. Until you are of age, the interest of the capital can alone be spent; and I, as your guardian, have authority only to expend it on your proper maintenance and education. It is only, therefore, by denying yourself all luxuries and amusements, and by saving pocket-money, with which I am directed to supply you, that you can help poor Moggy as you desire." "Oh then, that is what I will do," exclaimed Willie. "Don't give me any pocket-money, or let me have any amusements which cost money. That's almost what I wanted to do; though I should like to set her up as a lady, or in a comfortable house, with a servant to attend on her." "That would not be wise, Willie," remarked Dr Morgan. "You would expend all your means on one person, giving her more than she requires; and though it would save you trouble, you would be prevented from benefiting others; whereas you should calculate the means at your disposal, and take trouble to ascertain how much good you can possibly do with it. I am also bound to give you your pocket-money, provided I do not find that you make a bad use of it. You must decide how it is to be spent, and of course you are at liberty to return it to me to spend for you." "Oh, that will do, that will do!" exclaimed Willie, with pleasure in his tone. "But you will help me, papa, in doing what is best with it?" "I have already anticipated some of your wishes with respect to poor Moggy, and we will see what more can be done to make her comfortable. She says that she prefers Windyside to any other spot on earth, and has no wish to move from it." On a fine day, when the sun was shining brightly over mountain and moor, and his beams were lighting up the pine-trees and the once dark, ruinous hovel on the hillside, Dr Morgan with most of his children took their way towards Old Moggy's abode. It was greatly changed for the better. A chimney was now to be seen rising above the roof, which had been fresh tiled; there was glass in the window, a latch on the door, which had been repaired, and the lichen-covered walls had been scraped, fresh pointed, and white-washed. When the party got inside they discovered an equally agreeable change. A thick curtain divided the room; a screen kept off the draught when the door was opened; the walls were whitened, and there was a cupboard, and a table and chairs, and several shelves, on which rested some neat crockery. On the inside of the curtain there was a comfortable bed, and some thick matting on the floor. Old Moggy was seated in a large easy-chair, with her feet on the old stool, which before was one of her sole articles of furniture, and good Jenny Davis was making up a nice fire of coals, on which to cook some wholesome meat and vegetables which she had just brought from the market. "She's getting quite strong and hearty, with the good food and kindness," answered Jenny to the Doctor's question, "How is Moggy to-day?" "She can talk to ye as clear and sensibly as any one; ay, and there are some glorious things she has been saying to me, which have done my soul a world of good." "Ay, Doctor Morgan, in one thing Jenny speaks truth. I don't feel the poor demented creature I was a few short months ago," said Moggy; "and it's your tender kindness, and that of your dear boy, Master Willie, and the rest of your children, has brought about the change which ye see in me. I am clothed, and in my right mind; and yet, through the mercy of God, I never, even when my mind was wrong, was cast out from Him. I still sought Him, and found Him. He watched over me and protected me." "Be assured, Moggy," said the Doctor, "that we are well repaid for what we have done for you. But I must not stay. I came up with my children to-day to see how you were. You require no doctoring, and so I must away. Anna, however, will remain with the rest, as she has brought up a book to read, which may interest you." When the Doctor had gone Anna took a seat by Moggy's side, and Willie begged Jenny to give him some employment which might be of use. "There's little enough, my sweet young master, that is fit for you to do," answered Jenny. "There are those few pots and pans to clean, and some cups and saucers, and plates and spoons, and knives and forks, but sure that's not work fit for a young gentleman's hands." "Oh, any work is fit for me, if it is to serve Moggy," said William, rubbing away at the articles which were placed by his side. Anna read on in her sweet, low voice. The book contained a true history of one who bore suffering and affliction with patience and perfect resignation to the Divine will for long, long years, till health came back and she enjoyed peace and happiness in this world, and departed full of joy and hope. Moggy, who seemed deeply interested, instantly applied the history to herself. "That's me, that's me," she muttered. "I have got peace and comfort, and it's a happiness to have all these loving, dear children round me." She paused and sighed deeply, as if a recollection of the past had come suddenly on her, for she added, "But ah, who can bring back the dead-- those who lie far, far away in their ocean grave? No joy for me here till I know that I am departing to meet them." "Dear Moggy," said Anna, interrupting her gently, and fearing that she might give way to her feelings too much, "you have more than once promised that you would give us some of your past history. We should very much like to hear it, provided you do not dwell too long on the more painful portions." Moggy looked up at her with a sad expression in her eyes. "Ah, sweet Miss Anna, you do not know what you ask," she answered. "If I were to tell you my history without the sad portions there truly would be little to tell; but I will not therefore deny you. It will do me good, maybe, to know that those I love are acquainted with my griefs, and can pity me, and as it were share them with me." "We know that you have had sore troubles, and we pity you for them, and we have all learned to love you because you bear them so patiently," said Anna; "therefore if it gives you pain do not talk of your past history." "Ay, that is kind in you, Miss Anna, to say, but I have the wish now to tell you all; what I have been, and how I came to be as I am," said Moggy. "Master Willie, ask Master Charles to come in (Charles had returned outside the cottage to botanise), then I'll tell ye all, yes, all. Often and often I've thought of the past, so it does not seem strange to me as it will to you, dear Miss Anna, but ye will not weep for me, for it's long, long since I wept for myself." A shout from William made Anna run to the door, and from thence she saw Charley shaking hands with their brother Frank, and Willie running down the hill towards them. Another person stood by, who must be, she was certain, Tom Holman. Looking into the cottage again, and crying out, "Frank has come! Frank has come!" she also ran down the hill towards her brothers. There were warm greetings, and smiles, and laughter; and then Frank sang out, "Hillo, Tom, come up here. My brothers and sister want to thank you for enabling me to get back and see them; and tell them how you picked me out of the water and saved my life, and have taken such good care of me ever since." Tom had, with true politeness, gone some way off out of ear-shot of the brothers and sister when they met. The latter words were addressed to him, and with the activity of a seaman he sprang up the hill towards them. He did not quite come up to the idea Anna had formed of him. Though dressed as a seaman, he was somewhat different to the commonly-received notions of what a British tar is like; still less could he be compared to a refined pirate or dashing rover of romance. He was an ordinary sized, sunburnt, darkish man of middle age, with a somewhat grave expression of countenance. When he spoke, however, a pleasant smile lit up his firm mouth, and his eyes beamed with intelligence. Anna, Charles, and Willie went forward, and putting out their hands one after the other, shook his cordially, and thanked him, in a few simple words, for the manly services he had rendered Frank; each hoping to find means of proving their gratitude in a more substantial way than by words alone. Tom answered them in a pleasant voice, evidently gratified by the way they had treated him. "Why you see, Miss Morgan and young gentlemen, it was your brother first did me a service, and a very great one too, and so I felt very grateful, and a liking to him, and that made me have my eye oftener on him when there was any danger abroad, and be oftener talking to him; and so, do ye see, all the rest followed in course." "We never heard of Frank doing anything for you," answered Anna. "We thought that the obligation was all on his side." "Come, Tom, don't talk about that just now," cried Frank. "I say, Anna, how's Old Moggy? I'm glad to see that you have painted up her abode. I must go up and see her at once, and introduce Tom to her; she'll like to hear about the foreign parts he has been to." Saying this, he ran up the hill towards the hut. The rest of the party followed more slowly. Tom remained outside; the young Morgans entered. They found Frank seated opposite to Moggy, talking away to her, and telling her how happy he was to see her so comfortable. The poor old woman was much gratified with the attention paid her. "But where is Tom?" cried Frank. "Willie, tell him to come in. I want to introduce him to Moggy. He will be interested in her, for a kinder heart than his does not beat in the bosom of any man, woman, or child that I know of." Tom soon made his appearance, doffing his tarpauling as he entered, and taking a seat to which Frank pointed, nearly opposite Moggy. For a minute or more after Tom had taken his seat Moggy was silent, when bending forward, and shrouding her grey eyebrows with her withered hand, with unexpected suddenness she said, in a deep, low voice, and a strange inquiring expression in her countenance-- "Who are you, and where do you come from?" "A seaman, mother," answered Tom, "and shipmate for many a year with young Mister Morgan here." The old woman scarcely seemed to understand what was said, but kept muttering to herself, and intently gazing at Tom. "Come, Moggy, you'll stare my shipmate out of countenance, for he's a bashful man, though a brave one," cried Frank, who fancied that his friend did not like the scrutiny he was undergoing. Frank produced the effect he wished, and Moggy at once resumed the placid manner she had of late exhibited. "Your pardon, sir; strange fancies come over me at times, though it's seldom now I get as bad as I used to be," said Moggy. "I forgot how time passes, ay, and what changes time works, but I will not trouble you with my wild fancies. Your honoured father has shown me how I may put them to flight by prayer, by looking to Him who died for us, and then all becomes peace, and joy, and contentment." "Moggy was just going to give me an account of her early days when you arrived," said Anna. "I shall like very much to hear all about her, if Moggy will put off her history till another day," remarked Frank. "I promised to return home again without delay, so we must not remain any longer." "Remember, children dear, time is in God's hand, not ours. We propose, but He disposes as He knows best. He may think fit to let me live, to enjoy the comforts you have provided for me in my old age, or He may think fit to call me home; but while I live my wish will be to please you if I can benefit you, and my last prayers will be for your welfare." "Oh, you must live on for many a day, and we must hear your story over and over again, till we know it by heart," cried Frank, about to go. "Once for me to tell and once for you to hear would be enough, my dear lad," said Moggy, shaking her head. "Good-bye, mother, good-bye," said Tom, his heart evidently touched by the poor old woman's condition. "Fare thee well, my son, fare thee well. May Heaven prosper thee and guard thee on the perilous waters," answered Moggy, gazing intently at him as before. "So like thy countenance, and thy manners." The rest of the party uttered their farewells, and leaving the hut, took their way down the mountain. _ |
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