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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20453-h.zip b/20453-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a280840 --- /dev/null +++ b/20453-h.zip diff --git a/20453-h/20453-h.htm b/20453-h/20453-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..09c2679 --- /dev/null +++ b/20453-h/20453-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1612 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Christmas Child, by Hesba Stretton. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Christmas Child, by Hesba Stretton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Christmas Child + +Author: Hesba Stretton + +Illustrator: K. Street + +Release Date: January 27, 2007 [EBook #20453] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS CHILD *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><br /></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgcover.jpg" width="374" height="550" alt="Cover" title="" /></div> +<p><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgtitle.jpg" width="362" height="550" alt="Title page" title="" /></div> +<p><br /></p> + + + + <h1>THE CHRISTMAS<br /> + CHILD</h1> + + <h4>BY</h4> + + <h2>HESBA STRETTON</h2> + + <h3>AUTHOR OF "JESSICA'S FIRST PRAYER"</h3> + + <h2>ILLUSTRATED BY K. STREET</h2> + + + <p class='center'>NEW YORK<br /> + THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.<br /> + PUBLISHERS<br /><br /> + + Copyright, 1909<br /> + By Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.<br /><br /> + + Published, September, 1909<br /> + + THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.</p> + +<p><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img-frontis.jpg" alt="NATHAN LIGHTED HER STEPS" title="" /></div> + +<h4>NATHAN LIGHTED HER STEPS</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + +<div class='centered'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="50%" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><th align='left'>CHAPTER</th><th align='right'>PAGE</th></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'>The Coming of Joan</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_1'><b>1</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'>Joan's Search</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_10'><b>10</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'>The Child in the Manger</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_28'><b>28</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'>Lost and Found</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_40'><b>40</b></a></td></tr> +</table></div> +<p><br /></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgtitle-foot.jpg" alt="Chapter footer" title="" /></div> +<p><br /></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='centered'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="50%" cellspacing="0" summary="ILLUSTRATIONS"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><th align='right'>PAGE</th></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nathan lighted her steps</td><td align='right'><a href='#frontis'><b><i>Frontispiece</i></b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The two were never apart</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_8'><b>8</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Joan saw her aunt standing by her bedside</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_54'><b>54</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nathan came upstairs to visit Rhoda</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_60'><b>60</b></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><br /><br /><span class="smcap">The Christmas Child</span><br /><br /></h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE COMING OF JOAN</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>Along some parts of the coast in South Wales the mountains rise abruptly +from the shore, with only a narrow shingle between them and the sea.</p> + +<p>High above the coast, however, there are warm, sunny little valleys and +dells among the hills, where sheep can find pasture and a fold; and here +there are many small farmsteads, surrounded by wild rocks and bleak +uplands, where the farmer and his family live with their servants, if +they happen to have any, as they used to do in old times, sitting in the +same kitchen, and taking their meals together as one household.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p><p>Miss Priscilla Parry was the last of three leaseholders of one of these +little farms. Her grandfather had enclosed the meadows and the +corn-fields from the open mountain, on condition that he should have a +lease for three lives from the owner of the land. His own and his son's +had been two of the lives, and Priscilla's was the third.</p> + +<p>The farm was poor, for the land was hard to cultivate. In every field +there were places where the rocks pierced through the scanty soil, and +stood out, grey and sharp, amid the grass and the ripening corn. The +salt-laden winds and the fogs from the sea swept over them. Miss +Priscilla spent no money in draining or manuring them; for was not the +lease to pass away when she died, and she was nearly sixty years of age +already?</p> + +<p>But the sheep and the cows throve wonderfully on the short, sweet +herbage they browsed on the mountains; and her butter and cheese, and +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> mutton she sold to the butchers, were known through all the +country. Nobody could produce finer. Every one knew she was saving money +up in her little mountain farmstead, and the money was being carefully +laid by for Rhoda Parry, the niece she had adopted in her infancy and +brought up as her own child.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>Miss Priscilla was a spare, hard-featured woman, with a weather-stained +face, and hands as horny as a man's with farm-work. Twice a week she +wore a bonnet and shawl, when she went to market or church. All other +times her head was covered by a cotton hood, which could not be damaged +by rain, snow, or wind; and in bad weather she often went about her farm +with an old sack over her shoulders. Her shoes were as thick and as +heavily nailed as old Nathan's, her head servant, and she strode in and +out of her sheds and stables and pigsties as if she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> been a man. It +was said she could get more work done for smaller wages than any farmer +in the country.</p> + +<p>There was not a prettier girl in all the parish, which was ten miles +across, than Rhoda Parry, and she was always prettily and daintily +dressed. She had her share of the work to do, but it was the easiest and +most pleasant. If the weather was fine and clear, she might go to call +the cattle home from their cool and breezy pasturage on the mountain +side. The cows she had to milk were the gentle ones, that never kicked.</p> + +<p>Aunt Priscilla did the churning of the cream, but Rhoda made the butter +up into pretty golden pats, and wrapped them in cool, dark-green leaves. +Rhoda tended the little flower patches in the garden, whilst her aunt +saw to the vegetables. The light home-work, too, was Rhoda's; but the +rough, laborious scrubbing and washing were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> done by her aunt and the +only little maid they kept.</p> + +<p>When Rhoda was about eighteen, another niece of Priscilla Parry's died +in London, leaving one little girl quite unprovided for. All the other +relatives decided that, as Priscilla was a single woman doing well in +the world, it was clearly her duty to adopt the child, and without +waiting for her consent, or her refusal, which was the more likely, they +packed off little Joan to her great-aunt's farm.</p> + +<p>The child was under six years of age, puny and pale and sickly, having +lived most of her time in a close back room, up three pairs of stairs, +in a London house of business, where her mother had been housekeeper. +Her only playfellow had been a cat, and the prospect from her window had +been the walls of the houses on the opposite side of a narrow court, and +a mere streak of sky above them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss Priscilla did not at all like to have another child thrown upon +her. Her plans had been laid long ago, and to adopt Joan would quite +upset them. She intended to make Rhoda independent, that she might have +no temptation to marry for a home when her aunt died. Getting married, +to Aunt Priscilla, usually meant the greatest misfortune that could +befall a woman; and to guard Rhoda from it was the fixed purpose of her +life.</p> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>Like Queen Elizabeth, she could not forgive anyone belonging to her, man +or woman, who was foolish enough to marry. Her old man-servant, Nathan, +had escaped this error, like herself; and both of them had lived free +and single and wise, as Miss Priscilla Parry often said, even to their +old age. Her cherished day-dream was that Rhoda would follow their +example, and dwell with her in tranquillity and peace, until<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> she +herself closed her eyes, and fell asleep, in the course of twenty years +or more, leaving Rhoda a staid, discreet, and unmarried woman of middle +age.</p> + +<p>Here was another child come, a girl too; and if she grew fond of Joan +she would have the same misfortune to dread for her, and feel the same +desire to save her from it. But she was a proud woman, proud of her +character and name, and she could not turn the desolate child away. She +was in some measure religious too, and if it was God's will, she felt +she must take to Joan. But Aunt Priscilla took to Joan as a cross.</p> + +<p>To Rhoda, however, Joan was altogether welcome. She had never had a +playfellow, and Joan was so small and light and delicate that she seemed +almost like a plaything, a living doll. The two were never apart. They +rambled together<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> about the breezy mountains, catching glimpses of the +blue sea here and there; and they ran down the rough, rocky lane to the +village on the shore, two miles away; and they kept house on +market-days, as if it had been a merry sort of game, when Aunt Priscilla +was away. It was a wonderful change to Joan from her close, dark little +room in London.</p> + +<p>The farm-house had been built at different times, and though it +contained no more than four bedrooms, there were three staircases in it, +two of them leading up to single rooms. One of these was set apart for +Joan and Rhoda, where the window looked out upon the small garden and +the green mountain slopes, with the sea and the sky around and above +them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img001.jpg" width="358" height="550" alt="THE TWO WERE NEVER APART" title="" /></div> +<h4>THE TWO WERE NEVER APART</h4> + +<p>The farm kitchen, where they chiefly lived, opened into the fold, round +which were built the stables and the cow-sheds, with the barn filling up +one side of it, between them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> and the house. In the middle lay a heap +of rotting straw, where the pigs burrowed and the fowls scratched +diligently for hidden food; and all round it ran a causeway of large +round stones, on which the hoofs of the horses rang, and even the soft, +slow tread of the cows could be heard. There was a small blacksmith's +forge at the end of the fold, for old Parry had been something of a +smith himself, and Miss Priscilla could quite well overlook the shoeing +of her horses and the mending of her cart-wheels.</p> + +<p>The house-door was always open, and as there was not a morsel of carpet +in the place, not even in the parlour, no one was afraid of dirty +footsteps. There seemed to be something of busy and cheerful work going +on every day, though the place was so far removed from any town or +village.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> +<p><br /></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgtitle-foot.jpg" alt="Chapter footer" title="" /></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>JOAN'S SEARCH</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>Miss Priscilla Parry's head servant, old Nathan, took to Joan from the +first. He was a white-headed, strong old man, nearly seventy years of +age, but still able to do a fair day's work, or to take the whole +management of affairs, if Miss Priscilla were laid up, which she never +had been in all her life. He had lived as a boy with her grandfather, +and as a man with her father, and the farm seemed to belong as much to +him as to her. Like most of the people about, he was no Churchman; and +being very ready of speech he was a favourite preacher to the little +congregations meeting in some of the farm-houses scattered about the +mountains.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>Every Sunday evening there was a service held in Priscilla's kitchen, +when twenty or thirty of the neighbours would come in to listen to +Nathan's sermons. Of late years a number of young men, some of whom came +long distances, had been in the habit of attending these Sunday evening +meetings.</p> + +<p>Old Nathan liked this very much; but Aunt Priscilla's heart was devoured +by anxiety. Some of the new hearers were neighbours' sons, steady, dull +young farmers, too awkward and shame-faced to push themselves forward; +but there were others, bold young sailors, used to voyaging hither and +thither and to making their own way in strange places, who did not +hesitate to put themselves in the very front, close by the settle where +she sat, and to sing bass to Rhoda's treble, and even to find the text +for her in the Bible. One of them, a notorious young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> scamp, Evan Price, +was Aunt Priscilla's greatest plague and aversion; but she never caught +a single word or glance from Rhoda which could show that the girl +encouraged him, or any one among the others; and as long as that was the +case she was willing enough for them to look at her treasure, or long +for it, but she could not bear the idea of losing it.</p> + +<p>To little Joan everything was delightful. There had been the hay +harvest, and the corn harvest, and the cutting of fern on the mountains +for winter fodder, and the threshing of the corn on the barn-floor, and +the piling up of great heaps of straw in the wide bays on each side of +the barn.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>And now Christmas was coming. Joan had never kept Christmas, and knew +nothing about it. But at Aunt Priscilla's farm it was a great day, as it +always had been since she could remember. Every relative<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> who could come +to the farm was invited weeks beforehand; and nothing else was talked of +but Christmas Day. The Sunday evening before it came old Nathan's sermon +was all about the shepherds in the field, and how they found the little +babe lying in the manger; and he told the story so well that Joan did +not go to sleep at all, but sat listening to him with her dark eyes wide +open.</p> + +<p>"Is it our manger, Rhoda?" she asked, when they went upstairs to their +own little room to bed. "Will the babe be lying in our manger to-morrow +morning?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," answered Rhoda; "nobody knows whose manger He will come to."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I wish it could be ours!" cried Joan eagerly. "I wish Mary and +Joseph 'ud bring the little baby here, and the shepherds 'ud come to +seek for Him. Would n't you love it, Rhoda?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall we two get up early, very early in the morning, like the +shepherds did, and go and look in our manger if He 's there?" asked +Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes!" answered Joan, almost wild with delight. "Oh! Rhoda, +only suppose the baby should be there!"</p> + +<p>Long before old Nathan was stirring, or anyone else in the house was +awake, Rhoda and Joan crept quietly down their own little staircase, and +after lighting the candle in Nathan's great horn lantern, they let down +the bar of the house-door and stepped out into the fold. It was very +dark, but the dim light from the lantern sparkled upon a fine +hoar-frost, which lay like silver on the causeway and glittered on every +straw scattered about the yard. Not a sound was to be heard, except a +very soft, low moan from the sea, and that they listened for as they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +stood still on the doorstep. Joan's heart was beating fast, and her +small fingers clasped Rhoda's hand tightly as they stole along the +causeway to the cow-shed just beyond the barn.</p> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>The cow-shed was divided into two, and they passed through the outer +one, where the cows were lying in their stalls, and turned their large, +sleepy eyes upon the two girls, as if to inquire why they were disturbed +so early. In the little shed beyond the fodder and the hay were kept, +and the stalls were empty. The barn opened into it, and the deep black +space under the high roof of the barn served to deepen the delicious awe +in Joan's little heart. Rhoda herself trembled a little with a strange +feeling of seeking something which possibly might be found. She had +never realised so vividly that the Lord Jesus Christ was indeed born in +a stable and cradled in a manger; and she trod<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> softly, with her heart +beating, like Joan's, faster than usual.</p> + +<p>They stood still for a minute on the low door-sill, their lantern +casting its dim rays into the silent shed. Behind them was the deep +breathing of the cows, and the slow sound of their munching, and all +about them was the sweet, familiar scent of the hay. But this silent, +empty spot, half lit up by the lantern, seemed a strange, unfamiliar +place they hardly dared to enter. Rhoda lingered with a vague awe in her +heart, whilst little Joan grasped her hand as if in terror.</p> + +<p>"Let us sing 'Hark! the herald angels!'" whispered Rhoda.</p> + +<p>Very softly, with a timid and tremulous voice, Rhoda began the hymn, and +little Joan took it up in an undertone. They sang the verses through, +gathering courage as they did so. Then with solemn steps they approached +the manger and raised<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> the lantern to look into its cradle lined with +hay. It was empty.</p> + +<p>"I suppose Mary is gone somewhere else," said little Joan, half grieved; +"it was n't in her way to come here, p'rhaps, or you and me we'd have +been so glad, Rhoda!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she 'll come next Christmas," answered Rhoda. "We 'll come and +look every Christmas morning, and sing our hymn, and perhaps we shall +find them some time—Mary, and Joseph, and the babe, wrapped in +swaddling clothes and lying in the manger. Now we'll go back, and wake +up aunty, and tell her all about it."</p> + +<p>Aunt Priscilla hardly knew what to think of it. Rhoda had always been +given to "making believe." She had often played at being David killing +Goliath with a smooth pebble from the brook, or Ruth gleaning in the +fields, or the Queen of Sheba, with a crown of cowslips, visiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> King +Solomon. For the last few years these fancies had left her, but they +were all coming back again with little Joan. And going to look for the +child Jesus in the manger; was it right or wrong? She spoke privately to +Nathan, and the old man smiled, though he shook his white head.</p> + +<p>"They 'll grow older and wiser in time," he said; "and sure the Lord 'ud +never be angered wi' two young creatures seeking after Him in any way!"</p> + +<p>But when the next Christmas came all was changed at the farm-house on +the mountain. There had been no preparations made for keeping it as a +holiday, and no gathering of kinsfolk was invited by Priscilla Parry. +Nathan unbarred the kitchen-door, and lighted little Joan across the +fold; but she went into the stable alone, and stood on the threshold +singing the Christmas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> hymn with a sad, pale face that wore a lonely and +frightened expression. The manger was empty, as it had been the year +before; but the home seemed empty too.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>All Joan knew of the beginning of this mournful change was, that she +awoke one pleasant sunny morning and found Rhoda gone.</p> + +<p>That day Aunt Priscilla roamed about the farmstead and the scattered +fields her grandfather had enclosed upon the mountain, like one +distracted, calling everywhere for Rhoda. The farm-labourers loitered +about the fold and the little blacksmith's shop, whispering mysteriously +whenever Joan had been within hearing. There had been nobody to keep +them to their work, for Nathan was away all day, and did not return till +the late sunset was past and even the loftiest peak of the highest +mountain stood grey and dark against the sky.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nobody had bade Joan to go to bed, and she was afraid of her little, +lonely, separate room, if Rhoda was not coming back to sleep with her. +Not a single word had Aunt Priscilla spoken to her all the day, and if +the young servant-girl had not given her some bread and a bowl of milk +she would have been left without food, for Aunt Priscilla had not eaten +a morsel, or sat down in the kitchen, since the early morning.</p> + +<p>Joan had curled herself up in a corner of the oak settle, which stood as +a screen on one side of the corner fireplace, and had fallen fast asleep +there, when she was aroused by Nathan's voice. He spoke so quietly and +sadly that it did not quite awake her, and her drowsy ears took in the +sound as if he had been talking to some one a long way off. But suddenly +Aunt Priscilla spoke, in a voice so terrible and loud that she woke up +in a fright. Her aunt was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> standing in the middle of the floor, and the +light from a candle fell upon her face, weary and grey, and drawn into a +frown of stern and passionate anger.</p> + +<p>"She shall never enter my doors again!" she exclaimed; "neither she nor +her husband, Evan Price—the worst scamp in the country! I 'll never +forgive her. Deceiving me all these months! Let nobody ever name her +name to me again; she's dead to me for evermore."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said old Nathan, sorrowfully; "don't thee harden thy heart +against her, Miss Priscilla. She 's been deceived as well as us, poor, +young, ignorant lass! She does n't know what Evan is yet: a handsome +young raskill, as all the girls make much of. If she repents—and she +will repent, poor creature—thou must pardon her."</p> + +<p>"Never!" cried Aunt Priscilla, "not on my death-bed!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Forgive us our sins as we forgive them as sin against us,'" he +answered, in a very mournful and solemn voice.</p> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>"I'll never pray that prayer again!" she said fiercely. "I haven't +sinned against the Lord as she's sinned against me. I've never brought +shame and disgrace on Him. The Lord may pardon her, but I can't!"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" exclaimed Nathan, "hush! God Himself is hearkening to us. Our +sins against Him are as if we owed Him ten thousand talents; and the +sins of our fellow-creatures against us are no more than a hundred +pence. It is our crucified Lord that says it. Ah! thou knowest it well. +'O thou wicked servant, said the lord in the parable,'I forgave thee all +that debt because thou desiredst me; shouldest not thou also have had +compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> thee? And his +lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay +all that was due unto him. So likewise shall My Heavenly Father do also +unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother his +trespasses.' It's an awful thing when the Heavenly Father delivers a +soul to the tormentors! May God in His infinite mercy deliver thee; only +take heed that thou drive not away His Holy Spirit from thee!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Priscilla said no more, but went away upstairs, leaving the kitchen +in utter darkness. Joan trembled from head to foot as she listened to +her heavy tread in the room above. When old Nathan struck a light, her +white, scared little face was the first thing he saw. He sat down on the +settle beside her, and took her tenderly into his arms.</p> + +<p>"It's a sad day for thee, too, my little lamb," he said; "thou 's lost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +thy playfellow, and there's hard times before thee."</p> + +<p>"Where's Rhoda?" asked Joan, trembling.</p> + +<p>"She's been tempted away from us," he said sorrowfully, "by one as +pretends he loves her more than us. But thou must go to bed, my little +lass. See! I'll carry thee upstairs. I'm a poor, rough nurse for thee, +but my room's next to thine, on the other side o' the wall, and thee can +cry to me i' th' night if thou 's frightened. And to-morrow I'll knock a +hole through the wall, so as thou can hear me speak to thee. But there's +no wall between thee and the Lord; He's close beside thee, and thou need +never be affrighted."</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>But little Joan was frightened, both that night and many another dark +hour, when she felt herself alone in the solitary little room. The +child's life became very hard and desolate. Aunt Priscilla took no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +notice of her beyond providing her with food to eat and clothes to wear. +She did not talk to her, and she never took her on her lap or kissed +her. Sometimes Joan would creep timidly to her side and look up into her +face, but Aunt Priscilla never seemed to see her.</p> + +<p>There was nothing for the little girl to do but to wander solitarily +about the fields or sit up in her lonely room with no one to speak to +her for hours together. She was more desolate than she had been in +London; for there her mother had sometimes come up to the attic to play +with her, or to nurse her in her arms for a few minutes. There was no +one to love her now, except old Nathan.</p> + +<p>There was a still greater change in Miss Priscilla Parry. The neighbours +said she was gone out of her mind; and it was true that all her nature +seemed turned to hardness and sternness. She was never seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> to smile, +nor did she speak a word that was not absolutely necessary. She gave up +going to church and market, and she refused to see any visitor who came +up to the farm.</p> + +<p>On Sunday evening, when the usual meeting was held in her kitchen, and +the curious neighbours came in larger numbers than usual, they no longer +saw her in her old place on the settle, where Rhoda's pretty face had +made so strong a contrast with her aunt's. Miss Priscilla, after Rhoda's +foolish flight, always retreated to her bedroom overhead, in which there +was a small trap-door, made when her mother was bedridden, that she +might hear the prayers and the sermon and the singing in the kitchen +below. It was some weeks before old Nathan, who looked every Sunday if +the trap-door was open, saw that it had been lifted up, and knew his +mistress was listening.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Miss Priscilla was downstairs about her work it was a sad sight to +see her. Her grey hair had gone quite white, and her eyes were worn out +with weeping. Her shoulders were bent as if she was always stooping +under a heavy burden, and she seldom lifted her head or looked up from +the ground. Joan often saw her lips moving, though no sound came through +them. Everybody except old Nathan thought she was mad.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> +<p><br /></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgtitle-foot.jpg" alt="Chapter footer" title="" /></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE CHILD IN THE MANGER</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>The long winter evenings were very dreary when the sun set early and the +rain and the fogs overspread the mountains, and enshrouded the home with +blackness.</p> + +<p>Aunt Priscilla used to retire upstairs, where Joan could hear her +sobbing often in the darkness; and the two young servants, the maid and +the ploughboy, as soon as she was safely out of the way, would slink off +out of the kitchen, where their mistress could overhear them.</p> + +<p>It was not worth while to light a candle for a little girl like Joan, +and many a long hour she sat alone in the dark chimney-corner with no +light save the dull red glimmer of the embers in the grate, and hearing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +strange, mysterious noises all about her, sounds so low and quiet that +they could only be heard when everything else was perfectly still. And +going to bed was always a terror to her. The little creature could not +put her terror into words; but all day long it was as if some powerful +and pitiless enemy was lying in wait to seize her; and as the hour came +when all the household went to bed, and she was forced to creep up her +separate staircase to her lonely room, the terror reached its utmost +height, and she often sprang into bed dressed, and drew the coverings up +above her head, lest she should see or hear something more horrible than +what she could image to herself.</p> + +<p>What Joan would have done without Nathan no one can tell. During the +long winter nights, whenever he was sitting with her by the fireside, he +taught her to read, or read aloud to her out of his Bible, which was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +yellow and worn with much turning over of its leaves. He could sing a +little still, though now his teeth were gone his voice was weak and +quavering; but he made Joan sing with him, and took care to choose such +hymns as his mistress had been taught when she was a child, knowing well +she could not help hearing them through the unceiled rafters overhead. +The newer hymns which Rhoda had often sung with her young, sweet voice, +old Nathan never sung; and Aunt Priscilla, in her dark, desolate room, +would sit still and listen, and think of the days when she was herself a +child, and go to sleep and dream that she was a child again.</p> + +<p>The third Christmas Eve came; the second since Rhoda ran away from her +tranquil home and all who loved her truly. Joan had grown into a very +silent, pale, and sad child, seldom laughing, and with no com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>panion +save old Nathan and a doll he had bought for her in the market-town, +where he went every week instead of Miss Priscilla. She and Nathan could +not sing, "Hark! the herald angels!" because that was one of Rhoda's +favourite hymns; but as they sat together on the settle very quiet, for +both of them were full of sorrowful thoughts, Joan laid her small +fingers timidly on the old man's hard and horny hand.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>"Nathan," she said very softly, lest Aunt Priscilla overhead should hear +her, "can I go to-morrow, like Rhoda and me said we would, and look into +the manger for the child Jesus? I know He can't be there, because I'm a +big girl now. But me and Rhoda said we'd go every Christmas morning very +early; and she 'll be thinking of it to-morrow. I'm sure Rhoda 'ill +remember, and think I'm going to look for Him."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, Joan," answered the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> man; "I'd never say nay to anything as +is done out o' love. Maybe Rhoda 'ill be thinking of it, and please God +it 'ill do her good. I'll be up early i' th' morning and light the +lantern, and see thee safe across the fold and hearken to thee singing +the 'Heral' angels.'"</p> + +<p>There was neither frost nor snow this Christmas. The weather had been as +soft and mild as autumn, and there were still some pale monthly roses +blooming against the southern walls of the farm-house. Old Nathan +lighted Joan across the causeway and put the lantern into her hand when +they reached the door of the outer cow-shed. As she stood alone on the +low threshold of the farther shed, and looked up to the black space +above her, where the bay of the barn opened into it on her left hand, +she felt a little terrified. The light from her dim lantern could not +reach the roof, but she could see the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> piled-up straw rising high above +her, and the utter blackness beyond it.</p> + +<p>Her own white, melancholy-looking face was lit up by the rays from the +perforated top of the lantern, which swung from her hand as she lingered +on the door-sill gazing forward into the dark shed. The thought of old +Nathan not far away gave her some courage, and, after a timorous pause +of a minute or two, her young, clear, yet tremulous voice began to sing +the Christmas Hymn:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Hark! the herald angels sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Glory to the new-born King;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Peace on earth and mercy mild,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">God and sinners reconciled.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>All the other verses seemed to slip suddenly out of Joan's memory. She +heard something stirring in the stall before her, the straw rustled +softly, and there was a faint, slight sound of a gentle breathing. With +her heart beating fast she stole forward on tiptoe to the manger, well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +lined with hay, and lifted up the lantern. It was no longer empty: there +lay a child asleep, a little babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes and +cradled in the manger!</p> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>No doubt was there in Joan's little heart, no question as to who the +sleeping child could be. All the little learning she had gained died +away when she saw the child. She had come to seek the babe whose birth +the angels had sung over, and she had found him. Without speech or +motion, scarcely breathing for very joy, she stood gazing at it. The +little head and small face, the tiny hands, filled her soul with awe and +tenderness. Very timidly she touched the soft cheek with the tip of her +finger—the warm, soft cheek—and the baby stirred a little. Then Joan, +hanging the lantern to the rack above the manger, knelt down by its side +to watch the quiet slumber of the welcome child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>Were the angels there, asked Joan of herself, unseen and unheard by her, +singing glory? And oh! where was Mary, His mother? and where could +Joseph be? She must take care of the sleeping baby till they came back; +and surely Aunt Priscilla would consent to have such guests as these in +her house.</p> + +<p>But before very long she heard Nathan's voice calling her anxiously. He +wanted his lantern; and his mind was not quite easy as to whether it was +well for Joan to keep up a fancy like this. At the sound the baby +stirred, and its tiny features grew puckered up, as if it was about to +cry. Joan sprang up quickly yet quietly, and appeared in the doorway, +beckoning to old Nathan to keep still.</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush!" she cried; "he is here sleeping, and you mustn't wake him. +But I don't know where Mary is or Joseph. There is nobody but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> the baby. +Oh, I am so happy! I am so happy!"</p> + +<p>"What does Joan mean?" thought Nathan, stepping heavily yet gently on +into the inner shed, which he had filled with provender the day before. +Joan led him to the farther stall, and there, in a warm, soft nest of +hay, well wrapped up and sleeping soundly again, lay the baby. The old +man stood silently gazing at it till the slow tears trickled down his +grey and withered cheeks.</p> + +<p>"God help us!" he sobbed at last; "poor little lost babe! Come on +Christmas mornin'! And where's thy poor, sorrowful mother? What can we +do for thee, Joan and me? Nobody to give thee a welcome but an old man +and a little child. But we'll love thee for the dear Lord's sake as sent +thee to us on Christmas mornin'. Ay, and, old as I am, I'll fight thy +battles for thee, poor lamb!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>Very gently he lifted up the tender little creature, and laid it in +Joan's outstretched arms, which tingled with delight, mingled with fear +lest she should loose her hold of it. A flush of colour had come to her +pale face, and all the sadness had fled from it, and her eyes were +shining with joy. Nathan lighted her steps along the stony causeway, +which she trod with a thrill of anxious care, lest she might slip and +fall with her precious burden. But the house was reached in safety, and +the sleeping child had uttered no cry.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>"Lay it warm in thy own bed," said Nathan, "and wrap the blankets about +it, and I'll run and fetch Nurse Williams, that knows how to manage +little babes; and keep it still, Joan, while I'm away, whatever you do. +Don't let thy aunt hear it till I come back."</p> + +<p>How long Nathan was away Joan could not tell. She knew nothing of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> time +as she knelt by the bedside watching the child sleeping so softly and +soundly, its tiny face growing rosy with warmth. But at last her long +day-dream was broken by the sound of her own name, uttered in so loud +and terrible a voice that she felt as if she could not stir hand or +foot. It was Aunt Priscilla's voice, not far away, nay, at the very foot +of the steep and narrow staircase leading up to her room. Joan's heart +seemed to stand still with terror.</p> + +<p>"Joan, bring that child down at once!" were the words that rang in her +ears; "I'll not have it one moment under my roof."</p> + +<p>Joan did not answer or move, except to throw her little arms over the +sleeping baby.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she heard old Nathan say; "I've lived here in this place all +my life, with thy grandfather and father and thee, and I've been true +and faithful in my service, and I've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> grieved over the poor unhappy +mother of the little babe as if she'd been my own child. And now, if the +baby goes away from out of the house I'll go with it. I'll stay no +longer, not another hour. Thou'rt a hard woman, Priscilla Parry, and God +'ll show Himself hard to thee. With the unmerciful He'll show Himself +unmerciful, and with the froward He'll show Himself froward. And oh! +it's a fearful thing to think of an unmerciful and hard God!"</p> + +<p>Joan listened in terror to Nathan's strange words, but she did not hear +her aunt's voice making any answer. There was utter silence for a long +minute or two, followed by the sound of slow and dragging footsteps, +which grew fainter and fainter till she could hear them no more. Then +old Nathan came upstairs, and Nurse Williams, whom he had been to +fetch.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> +<p><br /></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgtitle-foot.jpg" alt="Chapter footer" title="" /></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>LOST AND FOUND</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>It was a very happy Christmas Day for Joan, though she never left her +little bedroom. Her delight was in watching the wonderful Christmas +child all day, and in helping to nurse him. Never had she seen anything +so perfectly lovely as his tiny hands and feet, and the little head that +nestled down so peacefully on her arm. A good part of the day she was +left alone with the baby, for Nurse Williams was busy about the house, +where there was a good deal of stir and excitement. The neighbours were +coming in to inquire about the rumours that had reached them, and Nathan +was away, and Miss Priscilla had shut herself up in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> her room, taking no +notice whatever of any appeals to her to open the door or to speak.</p> + +<p>Happy as it was to Joan, to old Nathan it was the saddest Christmas Day +of his life. He was seeking some trace or tidings of the baby's mother; +and his weary feet, made heavy by his heavy heart, trod many a mile that +short wintry day in quest of her. It could be no one else but Rhoda who +had laid the child in the manger. She had never been heard of since Aunt +Priscilla had answered her first and only letter, asking forgiveness, by +a bitter, stern, and terrible command that she must never show her face +again at home, or dare to ask for any help, whatever misery befell her.</p> + +<p>But Nathan's search was all in vain. No one had seen her down in the +village, or in the scattered dwellings far and wide upon the mountains. +But more than one had hinted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> to him that there were places, not far +away, where the cliffs overhung the sea; and as he returned sorrowfully +homewards he could hear the sad moaning and sobbing of the sea following +him through the stillness of the night air.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>But sad as the day was to Nathan, it was most miserable of all for Aunt +Priscilla. She had shut out the grey light of the wintry sky from her +room, and sat in gloom and cold, doing nothing. But she could not shut +out her thoughts and memories; she could not make her heart be still. +When she heard through the thin walls the faint little cry of the baby, +she fancied it was Rhoda's cry when she lay a helpless little creature +on her lap. Again and again Joan's young voice reached her ears, lulling +the baby to sleep with the old, familiar words of the Christmas Hymn—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Peace on earth and mercy mild,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">God and sinners reconciled.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>But there was no peace for her. She paced restlessly up and down her +darkened room, repeating to herself hundreds of times, "God and sinners +reconciled!"</p> + +<p>But she could never be reconciled to God, for she had vowed never to be +reconciled to Rhoda, who had sinned against her. She had sworn that +Rhoda should never enter her doors or see her face again. Would God let +her enter into His house, or behold His face? A silent, secret voice +kept whispering in her heart, "So likewise shall My Heavenly Father do +also unto you, if ye from your heart forgive not every one his brother +their trespasses."</p> + +<p>Late at night Nathan knocked at her door; but she neither spoke nor +opened it.</p> + +<p>"Miss Priscilla," he said, "I can find no sign of her anywhere. She's +gone, poor creature! There's some as fancy she's cast herself away into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +the sea; and maybe that's true. It's borne in on my heart as that's +true; but God knows!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Priscilla shuddered. She seemed to see in the darkness a slender, +girlish figure standing on the edge of one of the cliffs, and casting +herself down into the restless tide below. But she did not answer old +Nathan, and he went away with a very troubled heart.</p> + +<p>But in a few days a rumour ran all through the country-side that Miss +Priscilla Parry's farmstead was haunted. And what spirit could haunt it +except Rhoda's? The washerwoman, coming to wash at three o'clock in the +morning, had seen a dim shape moving slowly in the black shadow of the +wall, made visible by a faint light from the setting moon. The ploughboy +and Nathan, going out early to work, had heard low, rustling footsteps +in the cow-shed as they opened the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nurse Williams, who came every night to sleep with the baby, fancied she +was awakened by tappings on the lattice panes of the casement. Even +little Joan could hear Rhoda's sobs and moans, as she lay awake +shivering and trembling in bed, with her arm stretched across the baby +to save it from all harm. Everybody was certain now that Rhoda had +thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea; and though her body had +been drifted away by the currents, her ghost had come back to haunt the +place where she had once been so happy, and where her little baby was +living.</p> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>Aunt Priscilla had not left her locked and darkened room since she had +entered it on Christmas morning. No one dared to tell her directly of +Rhoda's spirit having come back to trouble and haunt the quiet +homestead. But she could hear all that went on in the kitchen below;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +and in the daytime the neighbours were glad of any excuse to come to the +haunted house, though after nightfall no one would venture out into the +fold except old Nathan. The rough servant-girl and the ploughboy had +both been to her door, and given her notice that they were going to +leave; but she had not asked them for any reason. The last injury Rhoda +could do to her was to make the house a terror and a talk in the +country.</p> + +<p>And now, as she sat alone, brooding over the past, with no work filling +the hard hands which were used to be so busy, she no longer thought of +Rhoda with the bitterness of wrath. She remembered what a young girl she +was, and how full of fancies, which made it easy for people to deceive +her. How terrible must have been the girl's misery before she could +drown herself in the sea! And there was no rest for her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> troubled +spirit, even in death! She was not sleeping peacefully in the little +churchyard down by the shore, where all their kinsfolk lay within sound +of the sea by night and day. There was something awful to Aunt Priscilla +in the thought of Rhoda's homeless and restless spirit wandering about +the places where she had been an innocent and a happy child.</p> + +<p>Late on New Year's Eve Aunt Priscilla drew aside the curtain which had +hung across her window since Christmas Day, and sat in the darkness +gazing out into the field. In the house all was as silent as the grave, +and out of doors there was the hush of night. A hoar-frost had fallen, +and gave a glimmer of light, even where the shadows fell, when otherwise +it would have been utter blackness. The waning moon hung in the dark +sky, above a bank of thick and gloomy clouds. She could hear the distant +undertone of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> sea, and the murmuring of the many brooks running down +the mountain slopes in the winter, for the cold was not yet sharp enough +to freeze them.</p> + +<p>And she could hear a far-off house-dog barking, and the nearer clanking +of the chains by which the cows were fastened to their mangers, and the +loud ticking of the old clock in the kitchen below. It would very soon +be midnight. She felt the chill of the keen air, and she shivered as she +huddled her shawl closer about her; but it was not the cold that made +her lips tremble and her heart throb painfully.</p> + +<p>She could fancy—oh, how easily!—that she saw Rhoda, as she had often +seen her, tripping along the causeway, with her bonny, merry face, and +her dancing feet. But she knew well it was only a trick her memory was +playing. The fold lay all silent and deserted beneath her watchful eyes, +with every door safely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> closed, and the gate at the far end locked. +Everything was precisely the same as usual.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>She was almost dozing in her chair, when all at once she felt her flesh +creep, and her heart throb more violently than ever. A black form was +stirring, creeping slowly under the walls of the barn, and seemed to be +holding itself up by the empty spaces where the bricks had been left out +in the building of it. It moved so gradually that it hardly seemed to +come closer to the house; and yet it stole on nearer and nearer, a tall, +thin, creeping shadow in the midnight gloom. To Aunt Priscilla it +appeared to be hours, though it could only have been some minutes, +before the shape reached the house-door, and sunk down out of sight on +the threshold, under the shadow of the little pent-roof over the +doorway. She could no longer see it without opening her window and +stretching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> out her head. It was there, just out of sight; and it seemed +more terrifying to her than while she could watch its languid and +ghostlike progress.</p> + +<p>She sat motionless, with no power to move. Poor Rhoda! poor little +child, whom she had loved so fondly! Not escaped from her misery, even +though she was dead; but wandering, a lost and restless spirit, about +her old home! A rush of troubled tenderness flooded Aunt Priscilla's +heart.</p> + +<p>"God help me!" she breathed half aloud. "I never wished her harm like +this; I'll speak to her; I'll call to her. Perhaps she's something to +say, and can't rest till she's said it. Oh! my poor, poor girl!"</p> + +<p>Trembling all over, she unlatched her casement and swung it back on its +rusty hinges, which creaked loudly in the utter stillness. The dark heap +on the threshold stirred a little; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> Aunt Priscilla called to it in a +very low, quivering, and sorrowful voice—</p> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>"Rhoda!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, aunty," came the answer, in a tone so hollow and faint that she +could hardly be sure whether it had been spoken, or that she had fancied +it.</p> + +<p>"Why do you come to trouble us like this?" asked Aunt Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Baby's here, and you, and Joan," moaned the faint voice again, "and +there's nowhere else in all the world for me."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything I can do to give you rest?" asked Aunt Priscilla, +shivering.</p> + +<p>"If you'd only forgive me before I die!" answered Rhoda, lifting up a +white, thin face, which could be seen dimly in the gloom.</p> + +<p>Aunt Priscilla sunk down on her knees before the open window. Rhoda was +not dead, then! It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> she herself, not her ghost, that was wandering +about the old places, and haunting the home that had once been hers, and +which now sheltered her baby. Where she had been all the week Aunt +Priscilla did not know. But what was she to do with her now? Must she +let her die outside her door on this winter's night?</p> + +<p>As she knelt there in silence she heard the clock strike twelve, and the +bells from the little grey belfry of the church on the shore ring +cheerily out into the night. Two years ago she and her neighbours had +watched the Old Year out in the kitchen below; and she could see, as it +were, Rhoda's pretty face again, and Joan's sleepy eyes, as they stood +beside her singing the New Year hymn, as soon as the clock had finished +striking. The familiar verses of the hymn ran through her mind till she +came to the last but one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Oh! that each in the day of His coming may say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">"I have fought my way through,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I have finished the work Thou didst give me to do."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>But Aunt Priscilla felt that she had not finished the work the Lord had +given her to do for Rhoda; she had not even begun what He had given her +to do for little Joan. If Rhoda had sinned against her, surely she had +sinned against Christ.</p> + +<p>With a heavy sob she rose from her knees and went downstairs. The house +was empty, except that Joan and the baby were sleeping in Rhoda's old +bedroom; for all the rest had gone to keep the watch-night in a chapel +two miles or more away. The house-door was not fastened, and she had +only to lift the latch in order to open it. There was not the slightest +sound from the threshold outside where Rhoda was crouching; no moaning +or sobbing, no movement of any kind. Aunt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> Priscilla opened the door +very gently and noiselessly.</p> + +<p>"Rhoda!" she said, very pitifully.</p> + +<p>But the girl did not answer her. She stooped down and raised her up +against her shoulder. Oh! what a small, light burden she seemed, no +heavier than when she was a young child like Joan. Aunt Priscilla lifted +her quite easily in her arms, and carried her upstairs and laid her on +the bed. Then she struck a light, and, shading it with her hand, looked +down on Rhoda's face, as she had done many a time when she had been a +sleeping child. The face was sharp and thin and death-like; she looked +like one who had perished from hunger and want. Was she really dead?</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img002.jpg" width="366" height="550" alt="JOAN SAW HER AUNT STANDING BY HER BEDSIDE" title="" /></div> +<h4>JOAN SAW HER AUNT STANDING BY HER BEDSIDE</h4> + +<p>Little Joan was awakened suddenly from a sound sleep, and saw her aunt +standing by her bedside, looking to her dazzled eyes a very image of +terror. The child uttered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> a shrill scream, and threw both her arms +round the baby, who was lying on a pillow beside her. She thought Aunt +Priscilla had come, knowing that everybody was gone out, to take away +the Christmas child. She must defend him with all her might.</p> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/imgtitle-left.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>"Get up, Joan," said Aunt Priscilla. "Rhoda is come home, and you must +bring the little baby to her."</p> + +<p>She had not seen the child before; and now she stood looking down on the +small sleeping face with tears streaming from her eyes. She bent over +him and Joan, and kissed them both with a strange solemnity, as if she +was making a vow to God. Then she lighted a candle, and bidding Joan +come as quickly as she could, she went away again; and in a few minutes +Joan followed her, carefully carrying the baby in her arms.</p> + +<p>There was a pale, sunken face resting on Aunt Priscilla's pillow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> and +thin, wasted hands lying on the counterpane. The eyelids were fast +closed, and the lips clenched. And yet it was Rhoda's face that Joan +saw, and she called to her loudly and joyfully.</p> + +<p>"See, Rhoda," she cried, "I found the little baby in the manger on +Christmas morning!"</p> + +<p>But Rhoda neither saw nor heard. Aunt Priscilla took the baby from Joan +and laid it on Rhoda's bosom, and placed her hand tenderly on Rhoda's +head. Then it seemed to her that a flicker of life moved over her set +and death-like face.</p> + +<p>"Sing, Joan, sing," said Aunt Priscilla, earnestly; and Joan, with her +hands clasped, and her eyes fastened upon Rhoda's dear face, sang in a +loud, clear voice—</p> + +<p class='center'> +Hark! the herald angels sing! +</p> + +<p>As she came to the last line, "God and sinners reconciled," Rhoda's +lips<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> moved, as if she was repeating the words to herself, and her white +eyelids slowly opened.</p> + +<p>"Not to me!" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, yes, my darling!" cried Aunt Priscilla, falling on her +knees—"you and me are reconciled, and God 'ill be reconciled to us +both. We are both sinners; but He'll forgive both you and me."</p> + +<p>"And my baby," whispered Rhoda again, slowly moving one of her wasted +arms to put it round him, and gazing mournfully into her aunt's face.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>"I'll take care of him," she answered; "God has sent him and Joan to me, +and I'll take care of them for His sake. I took care of you for my own +sake, Rhoda."</p> + +<p>There was a faint smile on Rhoda's face; and her eyelids closed again, +as if she was too weak to keep them open longer. By-and-by there came +into the quiet room the sound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> of distant voices, and Aunt Priscilla +crept noiselessly downstairs and across the fold to the gate, to tell +Nathan what had happened and to bring them all into the house quietly.</p> + +<p>That New Year's Day was as strangely happy a day to Joan as the +Christmas Day before it had been. She never left the room where Rhoda +was lying; for Rhoda could not bear her to go out of sight, and only +seemed content while she could watch her nursing the baby, in her +old-fashioned, motherly manner. As Joan sat on a low rocking-chair, +lulling him to sleep with snatches of hymns, and soothing him tenderly +if he began to cry, Rhoda's eyes shone with a tender light, though the +tears dimmed them at times. It was a peaceful, tranquil day, with few +words spoken by anyone. Aunt Priscilla's step had never been so quiet, +or her voice so gentle; and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> seemed to Joan to be quite a different +person.</p> + +<p>When the short afternoon was over, and Nathan's work was done, he came +upstairs to visit Rhoda. She had been as dear to him as his own child; +and as he took her small, withered hand in his, his dim old eyes grew +dark with tears.</p> + +<p>"I saw you every day twice," she said, pausing often for breath; "I was +hiding in the barn. I hid myself on Christmas Eve among the straw—like +Joan and me used to do for fun—and I laid the baby asleep in the +manger—for Joan to find; and I saw her come, and heard her sing—I was +watching her and you. And after that I couldn't go away; there was +nowhere and nobody to go to; and I stayed hiding in the barn. But I was +very cold and miserable; I was frightened of dying there in the barn. +And in the night I came close to the house—to look for food<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>—and +hearken if I could hear the baby. I'm not frightened or miserable now."</p> + +<p>"Never mind the trouble now, Rhoda," said old Nathan. "Your aunt's +forgiven you, and taken you home again; and God, He'll forgive us all, +and take us home again some day. Think o' getting well and strong again, +my poor lass."</p> + +<p>"Not me," murmured Rhoda, faintly; "it's best for me to die, I know. +Baby 'll be happier without me. I couldn't play with him and make him +merry. Joan 'ill be as a little mother to him, won't you, Joan? I'm +going to give him to you for your very own."</p> + +<p>"For my very own!" repeated Joan, with wondering, wide-open eyes.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img003.jpg" width="362" height="550" alt=" NATHAN CAME UPSTAIRS TO VISIT RHODA" title="" /></div> +<h4>NATHAN CAME UPSTAIRS TO VISIT RHODA</h4> + +<p>"Ay! if aunty will let me," answered Rhoda, smiling; "she 'll love the +baby, I know, now she's reconciled to me. Nathan, she for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>gives me, +and God forgives me. I'm not unhappy any more."</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/imgtitle-right.jpg" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> + +<p>"Rhoda, my lass," said old Nathan, "thy aunt 'ill never be happy no +more, if thou dies. She's pardoned thee with all her heart; and thou +must try to live, and pay her back. Tell me where thou 's been all this +long while."</p> + +<p>For a few minutes Rhoda lay silent, with a look of pain on her young, +pale face.</p> + +<p>"I dare n't ever have spoke to aunty," she murmured at last, "she's so +bitter against marrying. And so I ran away, and we were married at +Bristol; and then we went to London; and Evan deserted me before baby +was born. I couldn't find him again anywhere in London; and it was a +dreadful place to stay in without money, and no home. He hadn't been +good to me for a long while before he left me. I've been a very wicked +girl, but I've been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> sorely punished for it, Nathan; and I'd rather die +now, I think, than get well again."</p> + +<p>"My poor lass!" answered old Nathan, pitifully, "say, 'Let it be as God +pleases.'"</p> + +<p>"Let it be as God pleases!" repeated Rhoda, in her faint, hollow voice.</p> + +<p>Never could anyone be better nursed than Rhoda was nursed. Aunt +Priscilla watched over her day and night, hardly taking rest, and +sleeping only a few minutes at a time. No noise was permitted about the +farm that could disturb her; only the old, familiar sounds of cattle +lowing, and sheep bleating, and the cackling of barn-door fowls, which +were as soothing as pleasant music to her ears. Joan and the baby were +always in sight; except when they were sleeping in a little bed on the +floor, near at hand, that she might never feel any fear concerning +them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> Every morsel of food she ate was prepared by Aunt Priscilla +herself, who would not trust even Nurse Williams to do anything for +Rhoda.</p> + +<p>For a few days it was very doubtful whether she could recover from the +cold and hunger and weariness she had endured; but by-and-by there came +a slight change, and by the time the spring began there was no longer +any fear of her dying.</p> + +<p>But Rhoda was never the same again. Her pretty looks were gone, and so +were her merry ways. She was a quiet and grave woman now; often sad. +Year after year went by, and she heard nothing of the husband who had +deserted her. Her aunt found her more of a companion than she had ever +been before; and they two, with old Nathan, gleaned all the brightness +of their lives from Joan and the baby.</p> + +<p>The old farmstead was a happier home for Joan than it had ever been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> for +Rhoda. She had few indulgences, but she had the baby, the wonderful +child whom she had found lying in the manger on Christmas Day. +By-and-by, as she grew older, she understood Rhoda's sorrowful story, +and how it was he had been laid there in order that she might find him. +But every Christmas morning she stole early across the fold, and into +the silent and empty shed, as if to seek the Christmas child; and when +the baby was old enough she took him with her, and told him how she had +found him there, and knew he was come to bring</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Peace on earth and mercy mild,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">God and sinners reconciled.</span><br /> +</p> +<p><br /></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgtitle-foot.jpg" alt="Chapter footer" title="" /></div> + +<p><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgbackcover.jpg" width="300" height="281" alt="Back cover" title="" /></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Christmas Child, by Hesba Stretton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS CHILD *** + +***** This file should be named 20453-h.htm or 20453-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/4/5/20453/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Christmas Child + +Author: Hesba Stretton + +Illustrator: K. Street + +Release Date: January 27, 2007 [EBook #20453] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS CHILD *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE CHRISTMAS + CHILD + + BY + + HESBA STRETTON + + AUTHOR OF "JESSICA'S FIRST PRAYER" + + ILLUSTRATED BY K. STREET + + + NEW YORK + THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. + PUBLISHERS + + COPYRIGHT, 1909 + BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. + + Published, September, 1909 + + THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. + + [Illustration: NATHAN LIGHTED HER STEPS] + + [Illustration: Peace on earth and mercy mild, + God and sinners reconciled.] + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. THE COMING OF JOAN 1 + + II. JOAN'S SEARCH 10 + + III. THE CHILD IN THE MANGER 28 + + IV. LOST AND FOUND 40 + + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + + Nathan lighted her steps _Frontispiece_ + + The two were never apart 8 + + Joan saw her aunt standing by her bedside 54 + + Nathan came upstairs to visit Rhoda 60 + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS CHILD + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE COMING OF JOAN + + +Along some parts of the coast in South Wales the mountains rise abruptly +from the shore, with only a narrow shingle between them and the sea. + +High above the coast, however, there are warm, sunny little valleys and +dells among the hills, where sheep can find pasture and a fold; and here +there are many small farmsteads, surrounded by wild rocks and bleak +uplands, where the farmer and his family live with their servants, if +they happen to have any, as they used to do in old times, sitting in the +same kitchen, and taking their meals together as one household. + +Miss Priscilla Parry was the last of three leaseholders of one of these +little farms. Her grandfather had enclosed the meadows and the +corn-fields from the open mountain, on condition that he should have a +lease for three lives from the owner of the land. His own and his son's +had been two of the lives, and Priscilla's was the third. + +The farm was poor, for the land was hard to cultivate. In every field +there were places where the rocks pierced through the scanty soil, and +stood out, grey and sharp, amid the grass and the ripening corn. The +salt-laden winds and the fogs from the sea swept over them. Miss +Priscilla spent no money in draining or manuring them; for was not the +lease to pass away when she died, and she was nearly sixty years of age +already? + +But the sheep and the cows throve wonderfully on the short, sweet +herbage they browsed on the mountains; and her butter and cheese, and +the mutton she sold to the butchers, were known through all the +country. Nobody could produce finer. Every one knew she was saving money +up in her little mountain farmstead, and the money was being carefully +laid by for Rhoda Parry, the niece she had adopted in her infancy and +brought up as her own child. + +Miss Priscilla was a spare, hard-featured woman, with a weather-stained +face, and hands as horny as a man's with farm-work. Twice a week she +wore a bonnet and shawl, when she went to market or church. All other +times her head was covered by a cotton hood, which could not be damaged +by rain, snow, or wind; and in bad weather she often went about her farm +with an old sack over her shoulders. Her shoes were as thick and as +heavily nailed as old Nathan's, her head servant, and she strode in and +out of her sheds and stables and pigsties as if she had been a man. It +was said she could get more work done for smaller wages than any farmer +in the country. + +There was not a prettier girl in all the parish, which was ten miles +across, than Rhoda Parry, and she was always prettily and daintily +dressed. She had her share of the work to do, but it was the easiest and +most pleasant. If the weather was fine and clear, she might go to call +the cattle home from their cool and breezy pasturage on the mountain +side. The cows she had to milk were the gentle ones, that never kicked. + +Aunt Priscilla did the churning of the cream, but Rhoda made the butter +up into pretty golden pats, and wrapped them in cool, dark-green leaves. +Rhoda tended the little flower patches in the garden, whilst her aunt +saw to the vegetables. The light home-work, too, was Rhoda's; but the +rough, laborious scrubbing and washing were done by her aunt and the +only little maid they kept. + +When Rhoda was about eighteen, another niece of Priscilla Parry's died +in London, leaving one little girl quite unprovided for. All the other +relatives decided that, as Priscilla was a single woman doing well in +the world, it was clearly her duty to adopt the child, and without +waiting for her consent, or her refusal, which was the more likely, they +packed off little Joan to her great-aunt's farm. + +The child was under six years of age, puny and pale and sickly, having +lived most of her time in a close back room, up three pairs of stairs, +in a London house of business, where her mother had been housekeeper. +Her only playfellow had been a cat, and the prospect from her window had +been the walls of the houses on the opposite side of a narrow court, and +a mere streak of sky above them. + +Miss Priscilla did not at all like to have another child thrown upon +her. Her plans had been laid long ago, and to adopt Joan would quite +upset them. She intended to make Rhoda independent, that she might have +no temptation to marry for a home when her aunt died. Getting married, +to Aunt Priscilla, usually meant the greatest misfortune that could +befall a woman; and to guard Rhoda from it was the fixed purpose of her +life. + +Like Queen Elizabeth, she could not forgive anyone belonging to her, man +or woman, who was foolish enough to marry. Her old man-servant, Nathan, +had escaped this error, like herself; and both of them had lived free +and single and wise, as Miss Priscilla Parry often said, even to their +old age. Her cherished day-dream was that Rhoda would follow their +example, and dwell with her in tranquillity and peace, until she +herself closed her eyes, and fell asleep, in the course of twenty years +or more, leaving Rhoda a staid, discreet, and unmarried woman of middle +age. + +Here was another child come, a girl too; and if she grew fond of Joan +she would have the same misfortune to dread for her, and feel the same +desire to save her from it. But she was a proud woman, proud of her +character and name, and she could not turn the desolate child away. She +was in some measure religious too, and if it was God's will, she felt +she must take to Joan. But Aunt Priscilla took to Joan as a cross. + +To Rhoda, however, Joan was altogether welcome. She had never had a +playfellow, and Joan was so small and light and delicate that she seemed +almost like a plaything, a living doll. The two were never apart. They +rambled together about the breezy mountains, catching glimpses of the +blue sea here and there; and they ran down the rough, rocky lane to the +village on the shore, two miles away; and they kept house on +market-days, as if it had been a merry sort of game, when Aunt Priscilla +was away. It was a wonderful change to Joan from her close, dark little +room in London. + +The farm-house had been built at different times, and though it +contained no more than four bedrooms, there were three staircases in it, +two of them leading up to single rooms. One of these was set apart for +Joan and Rhoda, where the window looked out upon the small garden and +the green mountain slopes, with the sea and the sky around and above +them. + +[Illustration: THE TWO WERE NEVER APART] + +The farm kitchen, where they chiefly lived, opened into the fold, round +which were built the stables and the cow-sheds, with the barn filling up +one side of it, between them and the house. In the middle lay a heap +of rotting straw, where the pigs burrowed and the fowls scratched +diligently for hidden food; and all round it ran a causeway of large +round stones, on which the hoofs of the horses rang, and even the soft, +slow tread of the cows could be heard. There was a small blacksmith's +forge at the end of the fold, for old Parry had been something of a +smith himself, and Miss Priscilla could quite well overlook the shoeing +of her horses and the mending of her cart-wheels. + +The house-door was always open, and as there was not a morsel of carpet +in the place, not even in the parlour, no one was afraid of dirty +footsteps. There seemed to be something of busy and cheerful work going +on every day, though the place was so far removed from any town or +village. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +JOAN'S SEARCH + + +Miss Priscilla Parry's head servant, old Nathan, took to Joan from the +first. He was a white-headed, strong old man, nearly seventy years of +age, but still able to do a fair day's work, or to take the whole +management of affairs, if Miss Priscilla were laid up, which she never +had been in all her life. He had lived as a boy with her grandfather, +and as a man with her father, and the farm seemed to belong as much to +him as to her. Like most of the people about, he was no Churchman; and +being very ready of speech he was a favourite preacher to the little +congregations meeting in some of the farm-houses scattered about the +mountains. + +Every Sunday evening there was a service held in Priscilla's kitchen, +when twenty or thirty of the neighbours would come in to listen to +Nathan's sermons. Of late years a number of young men, some of whom came +long distances, had been in the habit of attending these Sunday evening +meetings. + +Old Nathan liked this very much; but Aunt Priscilla's heart was devoured +by anxiety. Some of the new hearers were neighbours' sons, steady, dull +young farmers, too awkward and shame-faced to push themselves forward; +but there were others, bold young sailors, used to voyaging hither and +thither and to making their own way in strange places, who did not +hesitate to put themselves in the very front, close by the settle where +she sat, and to sing bass to Rhoda's treble, and even to find the text +for her in the Bible. One of them, a notorious young scamp, Evan Price, +was Aunt Priscilla's greatest plague and aversion; but she never caught +a single word or glance from Rhoda which could show that the girl +encouraged him, or any one among the others; and as long as that was the +case she was willing enough for them to look at her treasure, or long +for it, but she could not bear the idea of losing it. + +To little Joan everything was delightful. There had been the hay +harvest, and the corn harvest, and the cutting of fern on the mountains +for winter fodder, and the threshing of the corn on the barn-floor, and +the piling up of great heaps of straw in the wide bays on each side of +the barn. + +And now Christmas was coming. Joan had never kept Christmas, and knew +nothing about it. But at Aunt Priscilla's farm it was a great day, as it +always had been since she could remember. Every relative who could come +to the farm was invited weeks beforehand; and nothing else was talked of +but Christmas Day. The Sunday evening before it came old Nathan's sermon +was all about the shepherds in the field, and how they found the little +babe lying in the manger; and he told the story so well that Joan did +not go to sleep at all, but sat listening to him with her dark eyes wide +open. + +"Is it our manger, Rhoda?" she asked, when they went upstairs to their +own little room to bed. "Will the babe be lying in our manger to-morrow +morning?" + +"Perhaps," answered Rhoda; "nobody knows whose manger He will come to." + +"Oh! I wish it could be ours!" cried Joan eagerly. "I wish Mary and +Joseph 'ud bring the little baby here, and the shepherds 'ud come to +seek for Him. Would n't you love it, Rhoda?" + +"Shall we two get up early, very early in the morning, like the +shepherds did, and go and look in our manger if He 's there?" asked +Rhoda. + +"Oh, yes, yes!" answered Joan, almost wild with delight. "Oh! Rhoda, +only suppose the baby should be there!" + +Long before old Nathan was stirring, or anyone else in the house was +awake, Rhoda and Joan crept quietly down their own little staircase, and +after lighting the candle in Nathan's great horn lantern, they let down +the bar of the house-door and stepped out into the fold. It was very +dark, but the dim light from the lantern sparkled upon a fine +hoar-frost, which lay like silver on the causeway and glittered on every +straw scattered about the yard. Not a sound was to be heard, except a +very soft, low moan from the sea, and that they listened for as they +stood still on the doorstep. Joan's heart was beating fast, and her +small fingers clasped Rhoda's hand tightly as they stole along the +causeway to the cow-shed just beyond the barn. + +The cow-shed was divided into two, and they passed through the outer +one, where the cows were lying in their stalls, and turned their large, +sleepy eyes upon the two girls, as if to inquire why they were disturbed +so early. In the little shed beyond the fodder and the hay were kept, +and the stalls were empty. The barn opened into it, and the deep black +space under the high roof of the barn served to deepen the delicious awe +in Joan's little heart. Rhoda herself trembled a little with a strange +feeling of seeking something which possibly might be found. She had +never realised so vividly that the Lord Jesus Christ was indeed born in +a stable and cradled in a manger; and she trod softly, with her heart +beating, like Joan's, faster than usual. + +They stood still for a minute on the low door-sill, their lantern +casting its dim rays into the silent shed. Behind them was the deep +breathing of the cows, and the slow sound of their munching, and all +about them was the sweet, familiar scent of the hay. But this silent, +empty spot, half lit up by the lantern, seemed a strange, unfamiliar +place they hardly dared to enter. Rhoda lingered with a vague awe in her +heart, whilst little Joan grasped her hand as if in terror. + +"Let us sing 'Hark! the herald angels!'" whispered Rhoda. + +Very softly, with a timid and tremulous voice, Rhoda began the hymn, and +little Joan took it up in an undertone. They sang the verses through, +gathering courage as they did so. Then with solemn steps they approached +the manger and raised the lantern to look into its cradle lined with +hay. It was empty. + +"I suppose Mary is gone somewhere else," said little Joan, half grieved; +"it was n't in her way to come here, p'rhaps, or you and me we'd have +been so glad, Rhoda!" + +"Perhaps she 'll come next Christmas," answered Rhoda. "We 'll come and +look every Christmas morning, and sing our hymn, and perhaps we shall +find them some time--Mary, and Joseph, and the babe, wrapped in +swaddling clothes and lying in the manger. Now we'll go back, and wake +up aunty, and tell her all about it." + +Aunt Priscilla hardly knew what to think of it. Rhoda had always been +given to "making believe." She had often played at being David killing +Goliath with a smooth pebble from the brook, or Ruth gleaning in the +fields, or the Queen of Sheba, with a crown of cowslips, visiting King +Solomon. For the last few years these fancies had left her, but they +were all coming back again with little Joan. And going to look for the +child Jesus in the manger; was it right or wrong? She spoke privately to +Nathan, and the old man smiled, though he shook his white head. + +"They 'll grow older and wiser in time," he said; "and sure the Lord 'ud +never be angered wi' two young creatures seeking after Him in any way!" + +But when the next Christmas came all was changed at the farm-house on +the mountain. There had been no preparations made for keeping it as a +holiday, and no gathering of kinsfolk was invited by Priscilla Parry. +Nathan unbarred the kitchen-door, and lighted little Joan across the +fold; but she went into the stable alone, and stood on the threshold +singing the Christmas hymn with a sad, pale face that wore a lonely and +frightened expression. The manger was empty, as it had been the year +before; but the home seemed empty too. + +All Joan knew of the beginning of this mournful change was, that she +awoke one pleasant sunny morning and found Rhoda gone. + +That day Aunt Priscilla roamed about the farmstead and the scattered +fields her grandfather had enclosed upon the mountain, like one +distracted, calling everywhere for Rhoda. The farm-labourers loitered +about the fold and the little blacksmith's shop, whispering mysteriously +whenever Joan had been within hearing. There had been nobody to keep +them to their work, for Nathan was away all day, and did not return till +the late sunset was past and even the loftiest peak of the highest +mountain stood grey and dark against the sky. + +Nobody had bade Joan to go to bed, and she was afraid of her little, +lonely, separate room, if Rhoda was not coming back to sleep with her. +Not a single word had Aunt Priscilla spoken to her all the day, and if +the young servant-girl had not given her some bread and a bowl of milk +she would have been left without food, for Aunt Priscilla had not eaten +a morsel, or sat down in the kitchen, since the early morning. + +Joan had curled herself up in a corner of the oak settle, which stood as +a screen on one side of the corner fireplace, and had fallen fast asleep +there, when she was aroused by Nathan's voice. He spoke so quietly and +sadly that it did not quite awake her, and her drowsy ears took in the +sound as if he had been talking to some one a long way off. But suddenly +Aunt Priscilla spoke, in a voice so terrible and loud that she woke up +in a fright. Her aunt was standing in the middle of the floor, and the +light from a candle fell upon her face, weary and grey, and drawn into a +frown of stern and passionate anger. + +"She shall never enter my doors again!" she exclaimed; "neither she nor +her husband, Evan Price--the worst scamp in the country! I 'll never +forgive her. Deceiving me all these months! Let nobody ever name her +name to me again; she's dead to me for evermore." + +"No, no," said old Nathan, sorrowfully; "don't thee harden thy heart +against her, Miss Priscilla. She 's been deceived as well as us, poor, +young, ignorant lass! She does n't know what Evan is yet: a handsome +young raskill, as all the girls make much of. If she repents--and she +will repent, poor creature--thou must pardon her." + +"Never!" cried Aunt Priscilla, "not on my death-bed!" + +"'Forgive us our sins as we forgive them as sin against us,'" he +answered, in a very mournful and solemn voice. + +"I'll never pray that prayer again!" she said fiercely. "I haven't +sinned against the Lord as she's sinned against me. I've never brought +shame and disgrace on Him. The Lord may pardon her, but I can't!" + +"Hush!" exclaimed Nathan, "hush! God Himself is hearkening to us. Our +sins against Him are as if we owed Him ten thousand talents; and the +sins of our fellow-creatures against us are no more than a hundred +pence. It is our crucified Lord that says it. Ah! thou knowest it well. +'O thou wicked servant, said the lord in the parable,'I forgave thee all +that debt because thou desiredst me; shouldest not thou also have had +compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee? And his +lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay +all that was due unto him. So likewise shall My Heavenly Father do also +unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother his +trespasses.' It's an awful thing when the Heavenly Father delivers a +soul to the tormentors! May God in His infinite mercy deliver thee; only +take heed that thou drive not away His Holy Spirit from thee!" + +Aunt Priscilla said no more, but went away upstairs, leaving the kitchen +in utter darkness. Joan trembled from head to foot as she listened to +her heavy tread in the room above. When old Nathan struck a light, her +white, scared little face was the first thing he saw. He sat down on the +settle beside her, and took her tenderly into his arms. + +"It's a sad day for thee, too, my little lamb," he said; "thou 's lost +thy playfellow, and there's hard times before thee." + +"Where's Rhoda?" asked Joan, trembling. + +"She's been tempted away from us," he said sorrowfully, "by one as +pretends he loves her more than us. But thou must go to bed, my little +lass. See! I'll carry thee upstairs. I'm a poor, rough nurse for thee, +but my room's next to thine, on the other side o' the wall, and thee can +cry to me i' th' night if thou 's frightened. And to-morrow I'll knock a +hole through the wall, so as thou can hear me speak to thee. But there's +no wall between thee and the Lord; He's close beside thee, and thou need +never be affrighted." + +But little Joan was frightened, both that night and many another dark +hour, when she felt herself alone in the solitary little room. The +child's life became very hard and desolate. Aunt Priscilla took no +notice of her beyond providing her with food to eat and clothes to wear. +She did not talk to her, and she never took her on her lap or kissed +her. Sometimes Joan would creep timidly to her side and look up into her +face, but Aunt Priscilla never seemed to see her. + +There was nothing for the little girl to do but to wander solitarily +about the fields or sit up in her lonely room with no one to speak to +her for hours together. She was more desolate than she had been in +London; for there her mother had sometimes come up to the attic to play +with her, or to nurse her in her arms for a few minutes. There was no +one to love her now, except old Nathan. + +There was a still greater change in Miss Priscilla Parry. The neighbours +said she was gone out of her mind; and it was true that all her nature +seemed turned to hardness and sternness. She was never seen to smile, +nor did she speak a word that was not absolutely necessary. She gave up +going to church and market, and she refused to see any visitor who came +up to the farm. + +On Sunday evening, when the usual meeting was held in her kitchen, and +the curious neighbours came in larger numbers than usual, they no longer +saw her in her old place on the settle, where Rhoda's pretty face had +made so strong a contrast with her aunt's. Miss Priscilla, after Rhoda's +foolish flight, always retreated to her bedroom overhead, in which there +was a small trap-door, made when her mother was bedridden, that she +might hear the prayers and the sermon and the singing in the kitchen +below. It was some weeks before old Nathan, who looked every Sunday if +the trap-door was open, saw that it had been lifted up, and knew his +mistress was listening. + +When Miss Priscilla was downstairs about her work it was a sad sight to +see her. Her grey hair had gone quite white, and her eyes were worn out +with weeping. Her shoulders were bent as if she was always stooping +under a heavy burden, and she seldom lifted her head or looked up from +the ground. Joan often saw her lips moving, though no sound came through +them. Everybody except old Nathan thought she was mad. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CHILD IN THE MANGER + + +The long winter evenings were very dreary when the sun set early and the +rain and the fogs overspread the mountains, and enshrouded the home with +blackness. + +Aunt Priscilla used to retire upstairs, where Joan could hear her +sobbing often in the darkness; and the two young servants, the maid and +the ploughboy, as soon as she was safely out of the way, would slink off +out of the kitchen, where their mistress could overhear them. + +It was not worth while to light a candle for a little girl like Joan, +and many a long hour she sat alone in the dark chimney-corner with no +light save the dull red glimmer of the embers in the grate, and hearing +strange, mysterious noises all about her, sounds so low and quiet that +they could only be heard when everything else was perfectly still. And +going to bed was always a terror to her. The little creature could not +put her terror into words; but all day long it was as if some powerful +and pitiless enemy was lying in wait to seize her; and as the hour came +when all the household went to bed, and she was forced to creep up her +separate staircase to her lonely room, the terror reached its utmost +height, and she often sprang into bed dressed, and drew the coverings up +above her head, lest she should see or hear something more horrible than +what she could image to herself. + +What Joan would have done without Nathan no one can tell. During the +long winter nights, whenever he was sitting with her by the fireside, he +taught her to read, or read aloud to her out of his Bible, which was +yellow and worn with much turning over of its leaves. He could sing a +little still, though now his teeth were gone his voice was weak and +quavering; but he made Joan sing with him, and took care to choose such +hymns as his mistress had been taught when she was a child, knowing well +she could not help hearing them through the unceiled rafters overhead. +The newer hymns which Rhoda had often sung with her young, sweet voice, +old Nathan never sung; and Aunt Priscilla, in her dark, desolate room, +would sit still and listen, and think of the days when she was herself a +child, and go to sleep and dream that she was a child again. + +The third Christmas Eve came; the second since Rhoda ran away from her +tranquil home and all who loved her truly. Joan had grown into a very +silent, pale, and sad child, seldom laughing, and with no companion +save old Nathan and a doll he had bought for her in the market-town, +where he went every week instead of Miss Priscilla. She and Nathan could +not sing, "Hark! the herald angels!" because that was one of Rhoda's +favourite hymns; but as they sat together on the settle very quiet, for +both of them were full of sorrowful thoughts, Joan laid her small +fingers timidly on the old man's hard and horny hand. + +"Nathan," she said very softly, lest Aunt Priscilla overhead should hear +her, "can I go to-morrow, like Rhoda and me said we would, and look into +the manger for the child Jesus? I know He can't be there, because I'm a +big girl now. But me and Rhoda said we'd go every Christmas morning very +early; and she 'll be thinking of it to-morrow. I'm sure Rhoda 'ill +remember, and think I'm going to look for Him." + +"Ay, ay, Joan," answered the old man; "I'd never say nay to anything as +is done out o' love. Maybe Rhoda 'ill be thinking of it, and please God +it 'ill do her good. I'll be up early i' th' morning and light the +lantern, and see thee safe across the fold and hearken to thee singing +the 'Heral' angels.'" + +There was neither frost nor snow this Christmas. The weather had been as +soft and mild as autumn, and there were still some pale monthly roses +blooming against the southern walls of the farm-house. Old Nathan +lighted Joan across the causeway and put the lantern into her hand when +they reached the door of the outer cow-shed. As she stood alone on the +low threshold of the farther shed, and looked up to the black space +above her, where the bay of the barn opened into it on her left hand, +she felt a little terrified. The light from her dim lantern could not +reach the roof, but she could see the piled-up straw rising high above +her, and the utter blackness beyond it. + +Her own white, melancholy-looking face was lit up by the rays from the +perforated top of the lantern, which swung from her hand as she lingered +on the door-sill gazing forward into the dark shed. The thought of old +Nathan not far away gave her some courage, and, after a timorous pause +of a minute or two, her young, clear, yet tremulous voice began to sing +the Christmas Hymn:-- + + Hark! the herald angels sing, + Glory to the new-born King; + Peace on earth and mercy mild, + God and sinners reconciled. + +All the other verses seemed to slip suddenly out of Joan's memory. She +heard something stirring in the stall before her, the straw rustled +softly, and there was a faint, slight sound of a gentle breathing. With +her heart beating fast she stole forward on tiptoe to the manger, well +lined with hay, and lifted up the lantern. It was no longer empty: there +lay a child asleep, a little babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes and +cradled in the manger! + +No doubt was there in Joan's little heart, no question as to who the +sleeping child could be. All the little learning she had gained died +away when she saw the child. She had come to seek the babe whose birth +the angels had sung over, and she had found him. Without speech or +motion, scarcely breathing for very joy, she stood gazing at it. The +little head and small face, the tiny hands, filled her soul with awe and +tenderness. Very timidly she touched the soft cheek with the tip of her +finger--the warm, soft cheek--and the baby stirred a little. Then Joan, +hanging the lantern to the rack above the manger, knelt down by its side +to watch the quiet slumber of the welcome child. + +Were the angels there, asked Joan of herself, unseen and unheard by her, +singing glory? And oh! where was Mary, His mother? and where could +Joseph be? She must take care of the sleeping baby till they came back; +and surely Aunt Priscilla would consent to have such guests as these in +her house. + +But before very long she heard Nathan's voice calling her anxiously. He +wanted his lantern; and his mind was not quite easy as to whether it was +well for Joan to keep up a fancy like this. At the sound the baby +stirred, and its tiny features grew puckered up, as if it was about to +cry. Joan sprang up quickly yet quietly, and appeared in the doorway, +beckoning to old Nathan to keep still. + +"Hush! hush!" she cried; "he is here sleeping, and you mustn't wake him. +But I don't know where Mary is or Joseph. There is nobody but the baby. +Oh, I am so happy! I am so happy!" + +"What does Joan mean?" thought Nathan, stepping heavily yet gently on +into the inner shed, which he had filled with provender the day before. +Joan led him to the farther stall, and there, in a warm, soft nest of +hay, well wrapped up and sleeping soundly again, lay the baby. The old +man stood silently gazing at it till the slow tears trickled down his +grey and withered cheeks. + +"God help us!" he sobbed at last; "poor little lost babe! Come on +Christmas mornin'! And where's thy poor, sorrowful mother? What can we +do for thee, Joan and me? Nobody to give thee a welcome but an old man +and a little child. But we'll love thee for the dear Lord's sake as sent +thee to us on Christmas mornin'. Ay, and, old as I am, I'll fight thy +battles for thee, poor lamb!" + +Very gently he lifted up the tender little creature, and laid it in +Joan's outstretched arms, which tingled with delight, mingled with fear +lest she should loose her hold of it. A flush of colour had come to her +pale face, and all the sadness had fled from it, and her eyes were +shining with joy. Nathan lighted her steps along the stony causeway, +which she trod with a thrill of anxious care, lest she might slip and +fall with her precious burden. But the house was reached in safety, and +the sleeping child had uttered no cry. + +"Lay it warm in thy own bed," said Nathan, "and wrap the blankets about +it, and I'll run and fetch Nurse Williams, that knows how to manage +little babes; and keep it still, Joan, while I'm away, whatever you do. +Don't let thy aunt hear it till I come back." + +How long Nathan was away Joan could not tell. She knew nothing of time +as she knelt by the bedside watching the child sleeping so softly and +soundly, its tiny face growing rosy with warmth. But at last her long +day-dream was broken by the sound of her own name, uttered in so loud +and terrible a voice that she felt as if she could not stir hand or +foot. It was Aunt Priscilla's voice, not far away, nay, at the very foot +of the steep and narrow staircase leading up to her room. Joan's heart +seemed to stand still with terror. + +"Joan, bring that child down at once!" were the words that rang in her +ears; "I'll not have it one moment under my roof." + +Joan did not answer or move, except to throw her little arms over the +sleeping baby. + +"No, no!" she heard old Nathan say; "I've lived here in this place all +my life, with thy grandfather and father and thee, and I've been true +and faithful in my service, and I've grieved over the poor unhappy +mother of the little babe as if she'd been my own child. And now, if the +baby goes away from out of the house I'll go with it. I'll stay no +longer, not another hour. Thou'rt a hard woman, Priscilla Parry, and God +'ll show Himself hard to thee. With the unmerciful He'll show Himself +unmerciful, and with the froward He'll show Himself froward. And oh! +it's a fearful thing to think of an unmerciful and hard God!" + +Joan listened in terror to Nathan's strange words, but she did not hear +her aunt's voice making any answer. There was utter silence for a long +minute or two, followed by the sound of slow and dragging footsteps, +which grew fainter and fainter till she could hear them no more. Then +old Nathan came upstairs, and Nurse Williams, whom he had been to +fetch. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +LOST AND FOUND + + +It was a very happy Christmas Day for Joan, though she never left her +little bedroom. Her delight was in watching the wonderful Christmas +child all day, and in helping to nurse him. Never had she seen anything +so perfectly lovely as his tiny hands and feet, and the little head that +nestled down so peacefully on her arm. A good part of the day she was +left alone with the baby, for Nurse Williams was busy about the house, +where there was a good deal of stir and excitement. The neighbours were +coming in to inquire about the rumours that had reached them, and Nathan +was away, and Miss Priscilla had shut herself up in her room, taking no +notice whatever of any appeals to her to open the door or to speak. + +Happy as it was to Joan, to old Nathan it was the saddest Christmas Day +of his life. He was seeking some trace or tidings of the baby's mother; +and his weary feet, made heavy by his heavy heart, trod many a mile that +short wintry day in quest of her. It could be no one else but Rhoda who +had laid the child in the manger. She had never been heard of since Aunt +Priscilla had answered her first and only letter, asking forgiveness, by +a bitter, stern, and terrible command that she must never show her face +again at home, or dare to ask for any help, whatever misery befell her. + +But Nathan's search was all in vain. No one had seen her down in the +village, or in the scattered dwellings far and wide upon the mountains. +But more than one had hinted to him that there were places, not far +away, where the cliffs overhung the sea; and as he returned sorrowfully +homewards he could hear the sad moaning and sobbing of the sea following +him through the stillness of the night air. + +But sad as the day was to Nathan, it was most miserable of all for Aunt +Priscilla. She had shut out the grey light of the wintry sky from her +room, and sat in gloom and cold, doing nothing. But she could not shut +out her thoughts and memories; she could not make her heart be still. +When she heard through the thin walls the faint little cry of the baby, +she fancied it was Rhoda's cry when she lay a helpless little creature +on her lap. Again and again Joan's young voice reached her ears, lulling +the baby to sleep with the old, familiar words of the Christmas Hymn-- + + Peace on earth and mercy mild, + God and sinners reconciled. + +But there was no peace for her. She paced restlessly up and down her +darkened room, repeating to herself hundreds of times, "God and sinners +reconciled!" + +But she could never be reconciled to God, for she had vowed never to be +reconciled to Rhoda, who had sinned against her. She had sworn that +Rhoda should never enter her doors or see her face again. Would God let +her enter into His house, or behold His face? A silent, secret voice +kept whispering in her heart, "So likewise shall My Heavenly Father do +also unto you, if ye from your heart forgive not every one his brother +their trespasses." + +Late at night Nathan knocked at her door; but she neither spoke nor +opened it. + +"Miss Priscilla," he said, "I can find no sign of her anywhere. She's +gone, poor creature! There's some as fancy she's cast herself away into +the sea; and maybe that's true. It's borne in on my heart as that's +true; but God knows!" + +Aunt Priscilla shuddered. She seemed to see in the darkness a slender, +girlish figure standing on the edge of one of the cliffs, and casting +herself down into the restless tide below. But she did not answer old +Nathan, and he went away with a very troubled heart. + +But in a few days a rumour ran all through the country-side that Miss +Priscilla Parry's farmstead was haunted. And what spirit could haunt it +except Rhoda's? The washerwoman, coming to wash at three o'clock in the +morning, had seen a dim shape moving slowly in the black shadow of the +wall, made visible by a faint light from the setting moon. The ploughboy +and Nathan, going out early to work, had heard low, rustling footsteps +in the cow-shed as they opened the door. + +Nurse Williams, who came every night to sleep with the baby, fancied she +was awakened by tappings on the lattice panes of the casement. Even +little Joan could hear Rhoda's sobs and moans, as she lay awake +shivering and trembling in bed, with her arm stretched across the baby +to save it from all harm. Everybody was certain now that Rhoda had +thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea; and though her body had +been drifted away by the currents, her ghost had come back to haunt the +place where she had once been so happy, and where her little baby was +living. + +Aunt Priscilla had not left her locked and darkened room since she had +entered it on Christmas morning. No one dared to tell her directly of +Rhoda's spirit having come back to trouble and haunt the quiet +homestead. But she could hear all that went on in the kitchen below; +and in the daytime the neighbours were glad of any excuse to come to the +haunted house, though after nightfall no one would venture out into the +fold except old Nathan. The rough servant-girl and the ploughboy had +both been to her door, and given her notice that they were going to +leave; but she had not asked them for any reason. The last injury Rhoda +could do to her was to make the house a terror and a talk in the +country. + +And now, as she sat alone, brooding over the past, with no work filling +the hard hands which were used to be so busy, she no longer thought of +Rhoda with the bitterness of wrath. She remembered what a young girl she +was, and how full of fancies, which made it easy for people to deceive +her. How terrible must have been the girl's misery before she could +drown herself in the sea! And there was no rest for her troubled +spirit, even in death! She was not sleeping peacefully in the little +churchyard down by the shore, where all their kinsfolk lay within sound +of the sea by night and day. There was something awful to Aunt Priscilla +in the thought of Rhoda's homeless and restless spirit wandering about +the places where she had been an innocent and a happy child. + +Late on New Year's Eve Aunt Priscilla drew aside the curtain which had +hung across her window since Christmas Day, and sat in the darkness +gazing out into the field. In the house all was as silent as the grave, +and out of doors there was the hush of night. A hoar-frost had fallen, +and gave a glimmer of light, even where the shadows fell, when otherwise +it would have been utter blackness. The waning moon hung in the dark +sky, above a bank of thick and gloomy clouds. She could hear the distant +undertone of the sea, and the murmuring of the many brooks running down +the mountain slopes in the winter, for the cold was not yet sharp enough +to freeze them. + +And she could hear a far-off house-dog barking, and the nearer clanking +of the chains by which the cows were fastened to their mangers, and the +loud ticking of the old clock in the kitchen below. It would very soon +be midnight. She felt the chill of the keen air, and she shivered as she +huddled her shawl closer about her; but it was not the cold that made +her lips tremble and her heart throb painfully. + +She could fancy--oh, how easily!--that she saw Rhoda, as she had often +seen her, tripping along the causeway, with her bonny, merry face, and +her dancing feet. But she knew well it was only a trick her memory was +playing. The fold lay all silent and deserted beneath her watchful eyes, +with every door safely closed, and the gate at the far end locked. +Everything was precisely the same as usual. + +She was almost dozing in her chair, when all at once she felt her flesh +creep, and her heart throb more violently than ever. A black form was +stirring, creeping slowly under the walls of the barn, and seemed to be +holding itself up by the empty spaces where the bricks had been left out +in the building of it. It moved so gradually that it hardly seemed to +come closer to the house; and yet it stole on nearer and nearer, a tall, +thin, creeping shadow in the midnight gloom. To Aunt Priscilla it +appeared to be hours, though it could only have been some minutes, +before the shape reached the house-door, and sunk down out of sight on +the threshold, under the shadow of the little pent-roof over the +doorway. She could no longer see it without opening her window and +stretching out her head. It was there, just out of sight; and it seemed +more terrifying to her than while she could watch its languid and +ghostlike progress. + +She sat motionless, with no power to move. Poor Rhoda! poor little +child, whom she had loved so fondly! Not escaped from her misery, even +though she was dead; but wandering, a lost and restless spirit, about +her old home! A rush of troubled tenderness flooded Aunt Priscilla's +heart. + +"God help me!" she breathed half aloud. "I never wished her harm like +this; I'll speak to her; I'll call to her. Perhaps she's something to +say, and can't rest till she's said it. Oh! my poor, poor girl!" + +Trembling all over, she unlatched her casement and swung it back on its +rusty hinges, which creaked loudly in the utter stillness. The dark heap +on the threshold stirred a little; and Aunt Priscilla called to it in a +very low, quivering, and sorrowful voice-- + +"Rhoda!" + +"Yes, aunty," came the answer, in a tone so hollow and faint that she +could hardly be sure whether it had been spoken, or that she had fancied +it. + +"Why do you come to trouble us like this?" asked Aunt Priscilla. + +"Baby's here, and you, and Joan," moaned the faint voice again, "and +there's nowhere else in all the world for me." + +"Is there anything I can do to give you rest?" asked Aunt Priscilla, +shivering. + +"If you'd only forgive me before I die!" answered Rhoda, lifting up a +white, thin face, which could be seen dimly in the gloom. + +Aunt Priscilla sunk down on her knees before the open window. Rhoda was +not dead, then! It was she herself, not her ghost, that was wandering +about the old places, and haunting the home that had once been hers, and +which now sheltered her baby. Where she had been all the week Aunt +Priscilla did not know. But what was she to do with her now? Must she +let her die outside her door on this winter's night? + +As she knelt there in silence she heard the clock strike twelve, and the +bells from the little grey belfry of the church on the shore ring +cheerily out into the night. Two years ago she and her neighbours had +watched the Old Year out in the kitchen below; and she could see, as it +were, Rhoda's pretty face again, and Joan's sleepy eyes, as they stood +beside her singing the New Year hymn, as soon as the clock had finished +striking. The familiar verses of the hymn ran through her mind till she +came to the last but one-- + + Oh! that each in the day of His coming may say, + "I have fought my way through, + I have finished the work Thou didst give me to do." + +But Aunt Priscilla felt that she had not finished the work the Lord had +given her to do for Rhoda; she had not even begun what He had given her +to do for little Joan. If Rhoda had sinned against her, surely she had +sinned against Christ. + +With a heavy sob she rose from her knees and went downstairs. The house +was empty, except that Joan and the baby were sleeping in Rhoda's old +bedroom; for all the rest had gone to keep the watch-night in a chapel +two miles or more away. The house-door was not fastened, and she had +only to lift the latch in order to open it. There was not the slightest +sound from the threshold outside where Rhoda was crouching; no moaning +or sobbing, no movement of any kind. Aunt Priscilla opened the door +very gently and noiselessly. + +"Rhoda!" she said, very pitifully. + +But the girl did not answer her. She stooped down and raised her up +against her shoulder. Oh! what a small, light burden she seemed, no +heavier than when she was a young child like Joan. Aunt Priscilla lifted +her quite easily in her arms, and carried her upstairs and laid her on +the bed. Then she struck a light, and, shading it with her hand, looked +down on Rhoda's face, as she had done many a time when she had been a +sleeping child. The face was sharp and thin and death-like; she looked +like one who had perished from hunger and want. Was she really dead? + +[Illustration: JOAN SAW HER AUNT STANDING BY HER BEDSIDE] + +Little Joan was awakened suddenly from a sound sleep, and saw her aunt +standing by her bedside, looking to her dazzled eyes a very image of +terror. The child uttered a shrill scream, and threw both her arms +round the baby, who was lying on a pillow beside her. She thought Aunt +Priscilla had come, knowing that everybody was gone out, to take away +the Christmas child. She must defend him with all her might. + +"Get up, Joan," said Aunt Priscilla. "Rhoda is come home, and you must +bring the little baby to her." + +She had not seen the child before; and now she stood looking down on the +small sleeping face with tears streaming from her eyes. She bent over +him and Joan, and kissed them both with a strange solemnity, as if she +was making a vow to God. Then she lighted a candle, and bidding Joan +come as quickly as she could, she went away again; and in a few minutes +Joan followed her, carefully carrying the baby in her arms. + +There was a pale, sunken face resting on Aunt Priscilla's pillow, and +thin, wasted hands lying on the counterpane. The eyelids were fast +closed, and the lips clenched. And yet it was Rhoda's face that Joan +saw, and she called to her loudly and joyfully. + +"See, Rhoda," she cried, "I found the little baby in the manger on +Christmas morning!" + +But Rhoda neither saw nor heard. Aunt Priscilla took the baby from Joan +and laid it on Rhoda's bosom, and placed her hand tenderly on Rhoda's +head. Then it seemed to her that a flicker of life moved over her set +and death-like face. + +"Sing, Joan, sing," said Aunt Priscilla, earnestly; and Joan, with her +hands clasped, and her eyes fastened upon Rhoda's dear face, sang in a +loud, clear voice-- + + Hark! the herald angels sing! + +As she came to the last line, "God and sinners reconciled," Rhoda's +lips moved, as if she was repeating the words to herself, and her white +eyelids slowly opened. + +"Not to me!" she murmured. + +"Oh! yes, yes, my darling!" cried Aunt Priscilla, falling on her +knees--"you and me are reconciled, and God 'ill be reconciled to us +both. We are both sinners; but He'll forgive both you and me." + +"And my baby," whispered Rhoda again, slowly moving one of her wasted +arms to put it round him, and gazing mournfully into her aunt's face. + +"I'll take care of him," she answered; "God has sent him and Joan to me, +and I'll take care of them for His sake. I took care of you for my own +sake, Rhoda." + +There was a faint smile on Rhoda's face; and her eyelids closed again, +as if she was too weak to keep them open longer. By-and-by there came +into the quiet room the sound of distant voices, and Aunt Priscilla +crept noiselessly downstairs and across the fold to the gate, to tell +Nathan what had happened and to bring them all into the house quietly. + +That New Year's Day was as strangely happy a day to Joan as the +Christmas Day before it had been. She never left the room where Rhoda +was lying; for Rhoda could not bear her to go out of sight, and only +seemed content while she could watch her nursing the baby, in her +old-fashioned, motherly manner. As Joan sat on a low rocking-chair, +lulling him to sleep with snatches of hymns, and soothing him tenderly +if he began to cry, Rhoda's eyes shone with a tender light, though the +tears dimmed them at times. It was a peaceful, tranquil day, with few +words spoken by anyone. Aunt Priscilla's step had never been so quiet, +or her voice so gentle; and she seemed to Joan to be quite a different +person. + +When the short afternoon was over, and Nathan's work was done, he came +upstairs to visit Rhoda. She had been as dear to him as his own child; +and as he took her small, withered hand in his, his dim old eyes grew +dark with tears. + +"I saw you every day twice," she said, pausing often for breath; "I was +hiding in the barn. I hid myself on Christmas Eve among the straw--like +Joan and me used to do for fun--and I laid the baby asleep in the +manger--for Joan to find; and I saw her come, and heard her sing--I was +watching her and you. And after that I couldn't go away; there was +nowhere and nobody to go to; and I stayed hiding in the barn. But I was +very cold and miserable; I was frightened of dying there in the barn. +And in the night I came close to the house--to look for food--and +hearken if I could hear the baby. I'm not frightened or miserable now." + +"Never mind the trouble now, Rhoda," said old Nathan. "Your aunt's +forgiven you, and taken you home again; and God, He'll forgive us all, +and take us home again some day. Think o' getting well and strong again, +my poor lass." + +"Not me," murmured Rhoda, faintly; "it's best for me to die, I know. +Baby 'll be happier without me. I couldn't play with him and make him +merry. Joan 'ill be as a little mother to him, won't you, Joan? I'm +going to give him to you for your very own." + +"For my very own!" repeated Joan, with wondering, wide-open eyes. + +[Illustration: NATHAN CAME UPSTAIRS TO VISIT RHODA] + +"Ay! if aunty will let me," answered Rhoda, smiling; "she 'll love the +baby, I know, now she's reconciled to me. Nathan, she forgives me, +and God forgives me. I'm not unhappy any more." + +"Rhoda, my lass," said old Nathan, "thy aunt 'ill never be happy no +more, if thou dies. She's pardoned thee with all her heart; and thou +must try to live, and pay her back. Tell me where thou 's been all this +long while." + +For a few minutes Rhoda lay silent, with a look of pain on her young, +pale face. + +"I dare n't ever have spoke to aunty," she murmured at last, "she's so +bitter against marrying. And so I ran away, and we were married at +Bristol; and then we went to London; and Evan deserted me before baby +was born. I couldn't find him again anywhere in London; and it was a +dreadful place to stay in without money, and no home. He hadn't been +good to me for a long while before he left me. I've been a very wicked +girl, but I've been sorely punished for it, Nathan; and I'd rather die +now, I think, than get well again." + +"My poor lass!" answered old Nathan, pitifully, "say, 'Let it be as God +pleases.'" + +"Let it be as God pleases!" repeated Rhoda, in her faint, hollow voice. + +Never could anyone be better nursed than Rhoda was nursed. Aunt +Priscilla watched over her day and night, hardly taking rest, and +sleeping only a few minutes at a time. No noise was permitted about the +farm that could disturb her; only the old, familiar sounds of cattle +lowing, and sheep bleating, and the cackling of barn-door fowls, which +were as soothing as pleasant music to her ears. Joan and the baby were +always in sight; except when they were sleeping in a little bed on the +floor, near at hand, that she might never feel any fear concerning +them. Every morsel of food she ate was prepared by Aunt Priscilla +herself, who would not trust even Nurse Williams to do anything for +Rhoda. + +For a few days it was very doubtful whether she could recover from the +cold and hunger and weariness she had endured; but by-and-by there came +a slight change, and by the time the spring began there was no longer +any fear of her dying. + +But Rhoda was never the same again. Her pretty looks were gone, and so +were her merry ways. She was a quiet and grave woman now; often sad. +Year after year went by, and she heard nothing of the husband who had +deserted her. Her aunt found her more of a companion than she had ever +been before; and they two, with old Nathan, gleaned all the brightness +of their lives from Joan and the baby. + +The old farmstead was a happier home for Joan than it had ever been for +Rhoda. She had few indulgences, but she had the baby, the wonderful +child whom she had found lying in the manger on Christmas Day. +By-and-by, as she grew older, she understood Rhoda's sorrowful story, +and how it was he had been laid there in order that she might find him. +But every Christmas morning she stole early across the fold, and into +the silent and empty shed, as if to seek the Christmas child; and when +the baby was old enough she took him with her, and told him how she had +found him there, and knew he was come to bring + + Peace on earth and mercy mild, + God and sinners reconciled. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Christmas Child, by Hesba Stretton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS CHILD *** + +***** This file should be named 20453.txt or 20453.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/4/5/20453/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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