Through the Fray: A Tale of the Luddite Riots

by G. A. Henty

“Yes, Ned, I am grieved to say that it is your brave father who has suffered from the accident. It seems that as he was walking down the High Street one of Ramsay's heavy wagons came along. A little girl ran across the street ahead, but stumbled and fell close to the horses. Your father, forgetful of the fact of his wooden leg, rushed over to lift her; but the suddenness of the movement, he being a heavy man, snapped the wooden leg in sunder, and he fell headlong in the street. He was within reach of the child, and he caught her by the clothes and jerked her aside; but before he could, in his crippled condition, regain his feet, the wheel was upon him, and he has suffered very serious injuries.”

“He is not dead, sir?” Ned gasped, while his brother began to cry piteously.

“No, Ned, he is not dead,” Mr. Porson said; “but I fear, my dear boy, that it would be cruel kindness did I not tell you to prepare yourself for the worst. I fear from what I hear that he is fatally injured, and that there is but little hope. Get your hats, my boys, and I will walk home with you at once.”

There were but few words exchanged during that dismal walk, and these were addressed by Mr. Porson to Ned.

“Try to calm yourself, my boy,” he said, putting his hand on his shoulder, which was shaking with the boy's efforts to keep down his convulsive sobs; “try and nerve yourselves for the sake of your father himself, of your mother, and the little ones. The greatest kindness you can show to your father new is by being calm and composed.”

“I will try, sir,” Ned said as steadily as he could; “but you don't know how I loved him!”

“I can guess it, my boy; for I, too, lost my father when I was just your age. God's ways are not our ways, Ned; and be sure, although you may not see it now, that he acts for the best.”

A little crowd stood gathered near the door. They were talking in low tones of the gallant way in which the crippled officer had sacrificed himself to save the child. They made way silently for the boys to pass. Ned opened the door and entered.

Abijah was in the hall. She was tearless, but her face was white and set.

“My poor boy,” she said to Ned, “he is in the parlor; he has just been asking for you. I am glad you have come. Your mother is in hysterics in her bedroom, and is going on like a mad woman. You must be calm, dear, for your father's sake.”