Morley Ernstein; or, the Tenants of the Heart

by G. P. R. James

At the same time he pointed with his hand towards the east, and Morley, following that indication, turned his horse once more upon the road. As soon as he had issued forth from the bright red light that spread around, he perceived a faint glow at some distance, in the direction towards which the boy had pointed; and, as he rode onward, he found that he was approaching another of the pit-mouths, where a still larger pile of waste coal than that which he had before seen was blazing up into the sky. Before he reached it, however, the road dipped down into a little ravine, and as he followed its course, losing sight of the fire for a moment, he heard the voice of lamentation, and a moment or two afterwards some one from the top of the bank exclaimed, in a tone of agony--"Have you found him, Harry?--have you found him?"

Morley drew in his horse. "If it be of a child you are speaking," he cried, raising his voice, "I have just found one on the moor. He is quite safe, and I will bring him round to the fire a minute."

The voice which had spoken made no reply, but in a moment or two after, Morley's horse carried him again within sight of the pit-mouth, which was still at the distance of three or four hundred yards. By the light of the burning coal, he beheld a female figure walking about with gesticulations which he easily conceived to be those of grief; but it was evident that the person whom he there saw could not be the woman whose voice he had heard from above, when he was in the ravine. He rode on, however, towards the fire, and was again saluted by the name of Harry as he came up, though, the moment after, the mistake was perceived, and the old woman, for such she was, who stood by the blaze, drew back a step or two, as if inclined to avoid him. No sooner did she behold the child, however, than she darted forward, and held out her arms, exclaiming, with a wild cry of joy--"He's saved!--he's saved!"

The young gentleman lifted the boy gently down to her, and then dismounted himself, not a little interested in all that he saw; and, to say the truth, at that moment Morley Ernstein was not a little glad to find that any subject upon earth could afford him matter of interest even for a moment; for the dull and heavy load of despair was upon his heart, and, not an hour before, all the things of life had seemed in his eyes to have become light and valueless when put in the balance against that ponderous weight.

The woman's first impulse led her to kiss the child again and again, even before she offered any thanks to his restorer. The boy also shewed not a little joy at finding himself again in the arms of the old woman, and by the terms of endearment which he applied to her, Morley discovered that it was herself he had wished to designate by the name of Annie--by which, probably, he meant Granny. While he stood and gazed, however, at the joyful meeting, between old age and infancy, the group was joined by another person, who seemed more deeply affected than even the old dame. It was a young woman of some three or four-and-twenty years of age, who now came running at full speed from the bank above the ravine, and she, too, without noticing Morley, caught the child to her bosom, pressing it close, and kissing it a thousand times. The young Baronet did not doubt for a moment that she was the boy's mother, for only a mother's heart could prompt such emotions as he there beheld.

When she had given vent to her feelings for a moment or two, however, she set the child down beside her, still holding it tight by the hand, and turned to gaze in silence upon Morley Ernstein, in which occupation the old woman was already deeply busy.

Morley returned the enquiring looks of both; for, to say the truth, he was somewhat surprised at the reception which he met with, and that not the slightest word of thanks or gratitude was proffered by either of the women for that which they evidently conceived to be a very great service. He could understand, indeed, that the elder woman might, either from natural rudeness or from timidity, be unwilling or unable to express her thanks, for she was plain and homely in her attire, and in her appearance altogether, and was evidently a person of the lower orders. The younger woman was not only pretty, graceful, and dressed in a style very much superior to her companion, but was distinguished by a lady-like and intelligent look, which seemed to promise a mind capable of comprehending what was due to her child's deliverer, and of expressing it easily and well. Both, however, gazed for more than a minute at Morley Ernstein without speaking, and then turned their looks enquiringly towards each other, as if doubtful what to say or how to act, and at length the younger drew the elder aside, and spoke to her for a moment or two in a whisper, while Morley Ernstein looked around him, not a little surprised at everything that he beheld.

Morley was unacquainted with that part of the country, having never visited his northern estates; and the sight of those immense fires, blazing in the midst of the night, surrounded by wild moors and naked hills, was calculated in itself to excite an imagination unusually rich and active, while the meeting with those two women in the midst of so desolate a scene, with not a trace of human habitation, except a low, miserable shed of turf, which he saw not far from the mouth of the pit, and some of the machinery for raising coal, which lay at no great distance, supplied plenty of materials for fancy to work upon. Their strange manner, too; the contrast between the appearance of the one and that of the other; their deep emotions at recovering the child, and yet their seeming ingratitude to him who restored it; were all matters of curious speculation, and for the time diverted Morley's mind from the thought of himself.

"I will stay and see what comes of all this," he said to himself. "Occupation must now be my great object in life, the deadening of remembrance and regret, the striving for forgetfulness. I may as well take the matter for fresh thoughts wherever I find it.--I will pass the night here, it will be better than the dull solitude of Warmstone, where I should have nothing but bitter memory for my companion."

As he thus communed with himself, the murmured conversation between the two women was brought to an end, and the younger one advanced towards him, still speaking a word or two more to the other, "No, no, mother," she said, "he is not one of those; I know such sort of people better than you do. They may put on the clothes of a gentleman, but they never look like him. This is not one of them, depend upon it. See how he stands; you never saw a thief-taker stand like that."