This was too much for poor Madge. She clung tightly to Alie, and, bursting into tears, begged that she might not be sent away.
“But if I were to take you to a fine house and fine friends, my dear?” said the lawyer, in an insinuating tone. “I may tell you that you were not born a gipsy; nor were those who deserted you your real parents. You were stolen long ago by those who have passed you off as their child. Your mother, Mrs. Everard, has been anxiously searching after you for years, and joyful indeed will she be to find that our search has at last been successful.”
Alie and Johnny gave exclamations of pleasure and surprise, Jonas was startled into uttering a whistle, but Madge scarcely understood the good news—she still clung to her early friend, and sobbed out that she didn’t want to go away, she wouldn’t go away with that man!
“Well,” said the lawyer, with a smile, after a few vain attempts to coax her into confidence, “it is evident that she is both safe and contented where she now is. Let her remain here for the present, till her mother can come herself and claim her stray lamb from those who have so hospitably afforded her shelter and protection.”
It would be difficult to describe all the talking, wondering, guessing, which went on in Mrs. Morris’s dwelling after the lawyer had driven from her door. The news spread like wild-fire through the village; all kinds of additions were made to a story in itself sufficiently strange; and the kitchen was soon filled to overflowing with neighbours eager for news. Before night came, the patience of Jonas was fairly tired out by insatiable questioners; and his pipe, had he still possessed one, would have been in imminent peril. The person who appeared least excited and delighted was poor little Madge herself, who would rather have been told that she might remain with Alie and her mother to the end of her days, than that she was to live in a palace and be the daughter of a queen. She was like a weary, wounded bird, that has found a peaceful nest; and she was too young and ignorant to understand all the reasons that might make it an advantage to her to quit it for another.
But Madge was a very happy girl the next day, when she found herself in the arms of a mother—a real mother—one who, with love and joy streaming from her eyes, pressed her long lost darling close and closer to her heart, as though she would hold her there for ever. With feelings of natural delicacy, Mrs. Morris and her family retired to Jonas’s little room, and closed the door, not to intrude by their presence on the intense joy of a parent at such a meeting. What the lady said to Madge, or Madge to the lady, they therefore never knew; but what account the child had given of the generous kindness of her friends was easily to be seen when, at her mother’s desire, she called them to speak to her. Mrs. Everard grasped the hand of Mrs. Morris with deep emotion; thanked her with tears in her eyes; and insisted on her accepting from her, as an acknowledgment of her debt, a sum which would have covered poor Madge’s expenses for years! The lady had brought her carriage half full of presents for the children; beautiful books, choice sweetmeats and cakes—never before had the plain deal table been loaded with such a heap of good things! Alie found herself dressed from head to foot in nicer clothes than she ever had worn; for Madge insisted on her putting them on at once, that she might see how Alie looked in them, and laughed and clapped her hands with delight, as though this were to her the greatest treat of all. Johnny felt almost ashamed to accept the numerous presents; he felt that he had so little deserved them—he had done so little, sacrificed so little, to promote the comfort of the stranger.
Suddenly a thought seemed to cross the mind of Madge, which cast a momentary shade over her bright little face. She ran up to her mother, laid hold on her arm with childish eagerness, and, pointing to old Jonas, who was looking with hearty enjoyment on the scene before him, exclaimed in an audible whisper, “Have you brought nothing for him?”
“Blessings on the lass!” cried the honest sailor; “I want nothing but such a sight as this! ’Tis as good as the view of the old white cliffs to the homeward-bound!”
“He was so kind—so very kind,” continued Madge, without noticing the interruption; “he broke his pipe, and gave up all his smoking, that I might not be sent to the workhouse. Alie told me he did, and Alie always says true; and he ought to have some of the cake.”
The conclusion of Madge’s speech set all the party laughing—Jonas laughing the loudest of all. Mrs. Everard put her arm fondly around her little girl. “Perhaps we could think of something that our good friend would like still better than cake,” she said, gently.