The Gold Brick

by Ann S. Stephens

"Promise, mother! It kills me to think what the neighbors will say; but when he comes, I shall be so proud to take my baby in my arms—and—and—" She broke off, and lifting one hand to her head, began waving it to and fro.

Mrs. Allen saw that there was great danger in this agitation, and attempted to soothe it.

"Promise not to tell! promise not to tell!" cried the invalid, panting for breath, and moving restlessly on her pillow.

"Yes, Katharine; I promise not to say any thing for a week at least."

"He will be here in a week! he will be here in a week."

Katharine kept whispering this over and over again, until she fell asleep from pure exhaustion. It was some time before the crimson flush left her face, or the quick breath subsided to the calm respiration that followed; but at last she slept tranquilly as the infant which still lay on its grandmother's bosom.

Mrs. Allen sat down by the kitchen fire. She could not find it in her heart to put the babe away after its little face had once touched her own. Seating herself in the high-backed chair, she began rocking to and fro—and as the love of that little child crept, like a perfume, to her heart, hatred to its father slowly disappeared, as a kingly essence destroys all evil odors. She began to think how pleasant it would be to live in closer connection with the good old couple over the hill, and how much she had to be thankful for, that her daughter was not, in fact, the outcast she had almost believed her. As this spirit of gratitude took possession of her heart, she began to hum over a cradle song, which had almost died out of her memory, and tender dews stole into her eyes, of which she was quite unconscious, until the fire began to look hazy under her steady glance.

Our God uses little children as instruments of great tenderness. They want no key to the hardest heart; but go in, without knocking, and nestle themselves like birds in a strange nest, carrying gentleness and blessings with them. So it was with this little mite of humanity. In the helplessness of its animal life, it appealed to the stern woman's heart without challenging the stubborn pride that nothing could conquer. So she softened down, and from touching the little face, began to kiss it, and finally converted her lap into a cradle and commenced trotting the baby on her knees with the most womanly gentleness.

The doctor found her in this condition when he came in the afternoon. Katharine was still asleep, and the two held a confidential talk on the hearth-stone, in which the young creature's condition was thoroughly discussed. When told of the great dread which the young mother felt regarding any present publicity being given to her marriage, or the existence of the child, the doctor rather sided with that view of the question.

"The truth is," he said, "we should have gossip and questions, guesses and scandal, running through the neighborhood like wildfire. Let the young fellow come back and settle the whole matter for himself. There is no reason on earth why you should see company. Besides, the state of the roads will keep everybody away."