The schoolmistress sank down again on her seat, and drew a heavy sigh as she answered, “The doctor thinks I shall lose her: I did not close an eye all last night: I really could not hold the school this morning: it is the first time that ever I sent the children away, but Mrs. Bolder has taken charge of even my own little boys—I could not bear the noise for poor baby.” Mrs. Collins spoke apologetically, as one who fears that she is neglecting a duty. Isa’s expression of sympathy encouraged her to proceed: “I am afraid that I shall have to tell the girls not to come to-morrow: my husband cannot undertake them as well as the boys, for neither of the rooms would hold all together.”
THE VISIT TO WILDWASTE SCHOOL.
“Have you to teach on Sundays as well as on week-days?” asked Edith.
“Only for an hour before morning service, and another in the afternoon, Miss Lestrange. I’m sorry to give it up even for one Sunday, for few of the children ever see the inside of a church; and but for the school, as Mr. Bolder used to say, they would grow up like heathen.” Mrs. Collins was still rocking the baby, that, to her great relief, was at length dropping asleep in her arms.
“Shall I come to-morrow and take your class?” asked Isa. “I have had little experience in tuition, but I could read to the girls, teach them hymns, and question them out of the Bible, while you sit quietly upstairs nursing your poor little child.”
The look of gratitude in the eyes of the anxious mother said more than her words, as she eagerly accepted the young lady’s offer.
“And I will see if there is not something that I can send to do the dear baby good,” said Edith, resolved to drive back and consult Mrs. Holdich on the subject.
The cousins left the school-room with a pleasant consciousness that they had lightened a heavy burden. To Isa, especially, the feeling was sweet. What she had heard of the labours of Arthur Madden had raised the thought in her mind, “Oh, that I could go and do likewise; that I too could leave a blessing behind, and be ‘remembered by what I had done!’” At once a door of usefulness was opened before her. Why should she not every Sunday relieve the hard-worked schoolmistress, and let the weary mother enjoy amidst her children what would then be a Sabbath indeed? Isa had for a few weeks taught a Bible-class in London; she liked the work, it gave interest to life, it took away the sense of weariness and emptiness which will sometimes creep over the spirit even of the lovely and young. Isa knew the task of tuition would be far lighter to her than it had been to the young man whose example was before her: she would go where she would be welcomed, amongst children already trained to some degree of order: she would have no opposition or ridicule to fear; for Gaspar, so long as she made no demands on her purse, was contented to let his sister do very much as she pleased. That brief visit to the school-room had to Isa changed greatly the aspect of life at Wildwaste. Her Sundays at least would not be joyless; she was permitted to do the Lord’s work, she might hope for His presence and blessing. She had made a sacrifice of inclination by returning to Wildwaste, and she was beginning to see that even in that dreary place God might give her rich cause for rejoicing.