“Not much more, Miss Leila, for mony o’ the days after that seem to have passed out o’ my mind. I think it was but twice after that that I had onything like a decent bed to lie down on; it was getting darkish one day when I was passing through a village, a heap o’ bairns came running past just out o’ school, and a wild laddie had something tied up in a napkin, and he aye cried he was going to drown it, and they maun come and see. My mind misgave me that it was a kitten, puir thing, so I followed on to a pond that I saw afore me, and just as I got near I heard sic a wild screech, and there was a wee lassie struggling in the water; I cried loud to Dash, and he was into the pond in no time, and afore anither minute was over, the puir half-drowned thing was laid at my feet. Aweel, I took it up in my arms and turned back to the village. The mother o’ it was like to go out o’ her judgment wi’ fright and wi’ joy; I stayed to help to put the bairn into a warm bed, the puir lamb would nae be comforted. Aye when we thought that she was dropping over to sleep she started up again in an unco tremble, and crying out, ‘No, no, mother, don’t be angry, I will never, never go near the pond again;’ and when Dash came up to the bed wagging his tail, and trying to make acquaintance wi’ her, she was like to go out o’ her judgment, wi’ no manner o’ knowledge or gratitude for what he had done for her. Aweel, she fell into a sleep at last; ‘Oh, my darling,’ the mother said, ‘many’s the time I have told her to keep away from those wicked boys, and by no means to go near that ugly pond, for my mind misgave me that something might happen; but she has been punished enough, poor thing, she will not again forget my warning;’ and she leaned over the dear bairn wi’ sic joy and thankfulness, and kissed her over and over again. Though it was getting late, I thought now to have gone on my way again, but though she was but a widow woman, and seemed to have naught to spare, she would na hear of it, so I stayed wi’ her that night, and she did all she could to make me comfortable. The next circumstance that I remember was when I found myself in a town, and sae spent wi’ hunger I could scarcely walk; I had parted wi’ my warm cloak afore, and I think shame to tell you how many salt tears that had cost me, (but it was a present from my gudeman,) and I was thinking if there was onything else I could sell, and holding by the rails, for I could scarcely stand, when a decent-looking young woman, wi’ a most pleasant face, came up to me. ‘What is the matter, poor woman,’ she said, in a kindly voice, ‘you are surely ill?’ I telt her I was starving. ‘Waes me,’ she said, ‘and I have no money to give you, for I have just been disappointed myself: but come with me, you shall have something to eat at least.’ She took me by the arm and helped me on, and we entered a big house, where a great mony people seemed to be living, for I heard voices o’ men and women, and bairns, some crying and some laughing. ‘My sister and I have a room here,’ she said, as we gaed up the stairs; then taking me by the hand along a dark passage, she opened a door, and I saw a young woman sitting close to the window working busily, though it was getting dark. ‘Jessie,’ she said, ‘you will have thought me long away, and after all I have come back without the money for the shirts, for Mrs. Churchill was not at home.’ ‘Without the money,’ Jessie repeated, ‘and not a morsel in the house beyond our night’s supper, and not a farthing to buy more! Oh, Ellen, this is sorrowful news. But who is this you have got with you?’ Ellen told her how she had fallen in wi’ me, and it was beautiful to see the kindness o’ baith the sisters. There was but a small fire, but they gathered up the cinders, and made me sit close to it, and they rubbed my hands and spoke words o’ comfort to me; and Ellen brought some bread and cheese out of a cupboard, and set it afore me, and baith o’ them pressed me to eat. Just then there was a tap at the door. ‘That will be the nurse,’ Ellen said, jumping up; ‘I forgot to tell you that she said she might perhaps be able to bring the money if her mistress came home in time.’ It was the nurse sure enough, and oh, sic joy as it was to the kind-hearted creatures when the nurse counted down ten bonnie shillings on the table. ‘Put on the tea-kettle,’ Ellen said, ‘and I will be back in a moment with some tea and sugar; and, Mistress Nurse, perhaps you will stay and take a cup of tea, you have always been such a kind friend to us.’ But Mistress Nurse said she could by no means stay, for her lady might want her; and she was just going away when she noticed Dash. ‘Bless me,’ she said, ‘what a fine animal, but how thin he is; he looks half-starved; my heart is sore for the creature, tea is not just the thing for him, but if I can get hold of the stable-boy when I go home, I will send him up with a plate of scraps; he will like that better.’ And she was as good as her word; Dash had such a supper as he had not seen for many a day. And how the sisters were pleased and diverted when the creature picked out the largest bone he could find in all the platter, and laid it at my feet. Aweel, we had our tea in comfort, and the best o’ butter, which Ellen said was a treat by ordinar, and muckle pleasant discourse; and I telt them about you, Miss Selina, getting your speech again, and about Miss Leila in the island. They said it was like a fairy tale, and that they had naething to tell me about themselves sae romantic. They had lost baith father and mother, and they worked for their bread, and had come through great straits; sometimes they had plenty to do, and were comfortable enough, and sometimes they were sair put about, and at their last penny; but their mother had been a God-fearing woman, and had given them the best o’ counsel, and they aye kept up their hearts, for there was a Providence abune, they said, that kent what was best for them. The room was clean and neat, though the furniture was scant. There was but one bed, but they borrowed a mattress from a kind neighbour, and I lay baith warm and comfortable on it. In the morning I had a sair struggle, for they would hae me to take one o’ their hard-earned shillings; but I would by no means hear o’ it, and I was the more positive as they had telt me that I was but a day’s journey or so frae Richmond, and need na gang through that awfu’ London, which was a great ease to my mind. So I took only some small change Ellen had gotten in from the tea, and gaed on my way. It was a clear bright day, but it was hard frost when night came on, and I was stiff wi’ cold, and weary, weary; and I could get naething better than a barn to lie down in, for I had but a penny to offer, and they jeered at me, and said a barn was ower good for sic payment. The next morning seems all like a confused kind o’ dream, I remember naething but that I crawled on and on, often stopping and feeling unco’ sleepy, but aye feared to lie down lest I should ne’er waken again; but though I kent Richmond could na be far off now, I was but the mair sorrowful, for I could bear it no longer; I could na move anither step, but sunk down by the road-side. A mist came afore my eyes, I ken naething mair, but that I seemed to waken in Heaven, for when I opened my eyes again, your dear faces were all around me.” Peggy ceased speaking, and clasped her hands together as if in prayer. There were tears in most eyes; even Charles, who seemed to think it unmanly to give way, had to struggle hard with his emotion.
“Leila,” he said, as they returned home, “I can well understand what your grief must have been in thinking Peggy lost to you. I am going to write all her story down, it is so interesting, and it will be my first lesson in the Scotch language; I would not have missed hearing her tell it for the world.”
CHAPTER XI.
A FEW days more, and solitude and silence seemed to have fallen on Woodlands. The whole party had dispersed. Mrs. Roberts had come back from paying a visit to her sister, and even the Stanleys had returned home. Leila had felt the parting with so many kind friends a good deal, and the holidays seemed to her now as but one bright day too quickly past. But there were alleviations; Sherborne Park, the residence of Mr. Herbert, was but an hour’s ride from Woodlands; Leila could now manage Selim with ease; Charles was still to be one week more at home, and on the first Saturday after the breaking up of the party, he promised to be early at Woodlands on his pony, to escort Mr. Howard and Leila to Sherborne Park: besides this, her joy and thankfulness at having recovered Peggy and her dear Dash, bid defiance to all approaches to any depression of spirits. She was buoyant as ever, and each morning, on her way to her Aunt Stanley’s, she stopped for a few moments at Peggy’s cottage to say a few kind words to her, and bring joy and sunshine to the old woman’s heart.
Most of the neighbouring families had called at Woodlands; amongst others, Mr. and Mrs. Mildmay, with their daughter Lydia. Leila liked Lydia’s appearance; she was a pretty looking girl, remarkably well dressed, with a beautiful complexion, fine hair, and a very animated expression of face; she praised every thing she saw, was delighted with the pets, said they were happy creatures to have such a dear, pretty little mistress, and kissed Leila twice at parting, and hoped they would always be great friends. Leila was much gratified, and was tempted for the first time to think Selina might be wrong, and too hasty in her judgments. She was made very happy a few days after, by her Aunt Stanley telling her she had obtained her papa’s consent to her remaining to dinner, as Mr. Mildmay, having county business with Mr. Stanley was, with his wife and daughter, to dine with them that day.
It was a very agreeable day to Leila; she liked Lydia more and more. She had now quite made up her mind to think Selina’s character of her a mistaken one. Lydia seemed full of heart and affection for all of them, but apparently to prefer Selina to the others; always listening when she spoke, and always declaring that she must know best, and in all their little discussions coming over to her way of thinking. But Leila would have been the first to retract the too favourable opinion she had formed, had she been present at a conversation which took place in the school-room before tea. Lydia and Matilda were alone together, they had been talking of Leila. “Yes,” Lydia said, “I don’t wonder you like her, she took my fancy very much; there is some life and spirit in her. I am sure I hope Selina will not make her as prim as she is herself, for she seems to have taken quite a passion for that dear sister of yours.”
Matilda’s colour mounted to her forehead. “I thought you were very fond of Selina,” she said, in an offended tone of voice; “I am sure you always talk to her as if you were.”
“And who tells you I am not?”
“You yourself do; you would not talk in that way of one you really liked. Ah, Lydia, that is not being sincere.” Selina’s warning came forcibly into her mind at that moment; but she was sorry she had said so much, for Lydia seemed extremely angry; looking very red, she said,
“Matilda, that idea would never have entered your head; I know who has——” She stopped, and with a changed expression of look and tone she continued, “But this is quite foolish, we are getting angry with each other for no reason whatever, for we are quite of the same opinion on this subject; I am sure you cannot have a higher opinion of Selina than I have. I only wish I could be more like her,” and she sighed heavily; “but still you must not be angry if I love my own little Matilda even more,” and she drew Matilda towards her, and kissed her cheek.