A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette. Charlotte M. Brame

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СКАЧАТЬ Mark! you doubted – doubted God and prayer!"

      "Did I? May God pardon me – I was wild with misery!"

      "Whose child can this be?" said Patty.

      "Patty," said Mark, "if we use this money, as we must and shall, it is part of a bargain, you know – a bargain to keep the child tenderly and faithfully, and make no effort to discover who sends it. We must keep faith."

      "It will be very easy to be loving and tender to such a lovely baby," said Patty. "Look, did you ever see anything so wonderful, so beautiful, in all your life?"

      "Fair as an angel," said Mark, gently kissing the wee white hand. "God bless the baby, the little angel baby that saved us."

      "A hundred a year! This is very much money, just for keeping one little child," said Patty.

      "We must pay ourselves what is fair, and keep the rest to educate the child, or make her dower."

      "And we must keep her soul white and fair. The letter says, we are to train her like our own, Mark."

      "Only, Patty, it is a child of noble blood, and if, some day, the mother claims her, she must not be ashamed of the child, Patty."

      "Oh, Mark!" cried Patty, in terror, "suppose the mother is in all this storm? Go, Mark – take a light and look for her. Do go!"

      "She cannot possibly be lingering here, Patty."

      "Oh, Mark, she is no doubt waiting to see what we will do. I am sure I saw her looking in the window before I took Mattie to bed."

      Mark took a lantern from its hook by the chimney-side, and went out into the storm. There was no trace of any one. The gate was fastened, no foot-print marked the gravel walk; nothing but sighing wind and plashing rain filled the darkness. He returned to the house.

      "There is no one. Whoever was here has done the errand and gone. I cannot believe it yet, Patty. My debt is paid! my home is saved! I shall live where my fathers lived, and die where they died; and all by means of this little child. I feel as if I could never love it enough!"

      Patty looked at the babe on her arm. She cried:

      "How could a mother give up such a lovely creature! I would rather die! Oh, poor mother! Mark, a heart has broken to-night in this storm."

      "I wonder if the poor soul was married?" said Mark.

      "She must have been! Look at the letter, Mark. It is the letter of a good woman. She wants the child's soul kept white and pure. A wicked woman would think of the body, but not of the soul!"

      The child opened its eyes – eyes like spring violets, softly blue. It stirred uneasily. Patty went for milk to feed it.

      "There are no clothes with it, Mark. Whoever knew us to write to us, knew about little Mattie, and expected us to let this baby wear her clothes, and be reared just like our own."

      She went for a night-dress that had been worn by Mattie a year before, and taking off the infant's rich clothes, put on instead the simple little gown. About the child's neck was a gold chain, with a locket; in the locket was a tress of curly golden hair, and one of dark shining brown.

      "Mark," said Patty, "let us put the letter and the locket and these rich clothes away. Some day they may be needed to show whose child this is."

      Mark folded the articles together and locked them in a strong box, which for years had held the especial valuables of the owners of Brackenside Farm. Never before had such singular treasures been placed among those simple rustic relics.

      "Now," said Patty. "I shall take this baby up and put her in Mattie's trundle bed; they are sisters now."

      She carried the wee stranger up-stairs and laid it by her own little daughter. Mark held the light.

      "There is a great difference between them," said Patty, as she looked at the two little ones in the same bed. "It is not only that one is two years and one is two months, but one looks like a child of the nobles, the other like a child of the people."

      "The people are the bone and sinew of the land, and the heart, too," said Mark, sturdily. "I don't believe a mother of the people would give such a baby away in this fashion. You note my words, wife; it is pride, rank pride, that has cast this child out among strangers."

      Patty sighed, still looking at the children. Little Doris, a jewel child, pearly skin, golden hair and brows, and a little red mouth like a thread of rubies; Mattie, brown, plump, sturdy, child of soil, wind, and sun.

      "I like my own best," said Mark, bravely, "if she is not half so fair. Our Mattie has what will last all her life – a warm, true, honest little heart in her strong little body."

      "Of course you will like our own best," said Patty half offended. "It would be a fine story if the coming of this little beauty could crowd our girl out of the first place in our hearts."

      "I wonder if they will love each other," said Mark.

      "Of course they will, as they are to be sisters," said Patty, with edifying faith in humanity.

      "And I wonder if she will love us?"

      "Surely, since we are to be her parents, and will be always kind and faithful to her."

      "I hope so," said Mark, shaking his head; "but there are some things, Patty, that do not mix well – as, say, oil and water – and belike blood will tell, and this little lady will not take to our homely ways. Besides, we shall always be considering how much is due her for that hundred pounds a year; and I, for one, will always be remembering how she came like a little angel to save a home that is like my heart's blood to me."

      Then they went down-stairs, leaving the dark child and the fair child sleeping together.

      CHAPTER III

      A DAUGHTER OF PATRICIANS

      Mark and Patty Brace sat down again by their hearth-stone. They were too much excited to think of sleep. Mark made up the fire and trimmed the lamp, and ruddy glow and golden gleam seemed the joyful reflection of their strangely-brightened fortunes.

      Honest Mark, who seldom thought of even locking his door when he went to bed, suddenly felt that thieves might break in to steal that blessed hundred pounds that saved him from ruin. He buttoned the notes up in his waistcoat, and longed for the day-dawn when he might pay his debt and be free.

      Upon Patty's simple heart rested the shadow of a new care. It was to her upright spirit a terrible responsibility to rear a stranger's child. What disposition would this little one inherit?

      Could she obey that unknown mother's behest and keep this soul white and pure? Suppose the child should be willful, full of faults, proud, hard to govern, in all points the opposite to her own simple, gentle, good little girl – would she be able by love and kindness to govern and mold her into goodness? And suppose the child grew day by day into her heart, until it seemed like her very own, and then that unknown mother came and took her away? Suppose, too, that after all her humble cares, when the mother came, she should be dissatisfied and complain of the rudeness of the child's rearing?

      But Patty need not have feared that; she had herself the best of good breeding, that which comes from a generous, thoughtful, unselfish spirit.

      Then she began to wonder who was the mother of СКАЧАТЬ