Fern's Hollow

by Hesba Stretton

When Miss Anne left the cabin the night was quite dark but the snow which lay unmelted on the mountains showed their outlines plainly with a pale gleaming of light though the sky was overcast with more snow-clouds. Her heart was full of sadness for Stephen, who was wandering, no one knew whither, among the snowdrifts on the solitary plains. She knew that he must be passing through a terrible trial and temptation, but she could do nothing for him; her voice could not reach him, nor her eye tell him by a silent look how deeply she felt for him. Yet Miss Anne knew who it is that possesseth 'the shields of the earth,' and in her earnest thanksgiving to God for Martha and Bess Thompson, she prayed fervently that the boy might be shielded and sheltered in his great sorrow, and that when he was tried he might come forth as gold.

All the day long, Stephen, instead of going to his work in the pit, had been rambling, without aim or purpose, over the dreary uplands; here and there stretching himself upon the wiry heath, where the sun had dried away the snow, and hiding his face from the light, while he gave way to an anguish of grief, and broke the deep silence with a loud and very bitter cry. It was death, sudden death, he was lamenting. Only yesterday morning little Nan was clinging strongly to his neck, and covering his face with merry kisses; and every now and then he felt as if he was only dreaming, and he started down towards home, as though he could not believe that those tender arms were stiffened and that rosy mouth still in death. But before he could run many paces the truth was borne in upon his aching heart that she was surely dead; and never more in this life would he see and speak to her, or listen to her lisping tongue. Little Nan, dearest of all earthly things,—perhaps dearer to him in the infancy of his Christian life than the Saviour Himself,—was removed from him so far that she was already a stranger, and he knew nothing of her.

Towards evening he found himself, in his aimless wandering, drawing near to Fern's Hollow, where she had lived. The outer shell of the new house was built up, the three rooms above and below, with the little dairy and coal-shed beside them, and Stephen, even in his misery, was glad of the shelter of the blank walls from the cutting blast of the north wind; for he felt that he could not go home to the cabin where the dead child—no longer darling little Nan—was lying. Poor Stephen! He sat down on a heap of bricks upon the new hearth, where no household fire had ever been kindled; and, while the snow-flakes drifted in upon him unheeded, he buried his face again in his hands, and went on thinking, as he had been doing all day. He would never care to come back now to Fern's Hollow. No! he would get away to some far-off country, where he should never more hear the master's name spoken. Let him keep the place, he thought, and let it be a curse to him, for he had bought it with a child's blood. If the law gave him back Fern's Hollow, it would not avenge little Nan's death; and he had no power. But the master was a murderer; and Stephen knelt down on the desolate hearth, where no prayer had ever been uttered, and prayed God that the sin and punishment of murder might rest upon his enemy.

Was it consolation that filled Stephen's heart when he rose from his knees? It seemed as if his spirit had grown suddenly harder, and in some measure stronger. He did not feel afraid now of going down to the cabin, where the little lifeless corpse was stretched out; and he strode away down the hill with rapid steps. When the thought of Martha, and his grandfather, and Miss Anne crossed his mind, it was with no gentle, tender emotion, but with a strange feeling that he no longer cared for them. All his love was gone with little Nan. Only the thought of the master, and the terrible reckoning that lay before him, sent a thrill through his heart. 'I shall be there at the judgment,' he muttered half aloud, looking up to the cold, cloudy sky, almost as if he expected to see the sign of the coming of the Lord. But there was no sign there; and, after gazing for a minute or two, he turned in the direction of the cabin, where he could see a glimmer of the light within through the chinks of the door and shutter.

Bess and Martha were still sitting hand in hand as Miss Anne had left them; but they both started up as Stephen entered, pale and ghastly from his long conflict with grief and temptation on the hills. He was come home conquered, though he did not know it; and the expression of his face was one of hatred and vengeance, instead of sorrow and love. He bade Black Bess to be off out of his sight in a voice so changed and harsh, that both the girls were frightened, and Martha stole away tremblingly with her. He was alone then, with his sleeping grandfather on the bed, and the dead child lying in the corner, from which he carefully averted his eyes; when there came a quiet tap at the door, and, before he could answer, it was slowly opened, and the master stepped into the cabin. He stood before the boy, looking into his white face in silence, and when he spoke his voice was very husky and low.

'My lad,' he said, 'I'm very sorry for you; and I'll have the pit bricked over at once. It had slipped my memory, Stephen; but Martha knew of it, and she ought to have taken better care of the child. It is no fault of mine; or it is only partly my fault, at any rate. But, whether or no, I'm come to tell you I'm willing to bear the expenses of the funeral in reason; and here's a sovereign for you besides, my lad.'

The master held out a glittering sovereign in his hand, but Stephen pushed it away, and, seizing his arm firmly, drew him, reluctant as he was, to the white-covered table in the corner. There was no look of pain upon the pale, placid little features before them; but there was an awful stillness, and all the light of life was gone out of the open eyes, which were fixed into an upward gaze. The Bible, which Stephen had not looked for that morning, had been used instead of a cushion, and the motionless head lay upon it.

'That was little Nan yesterday,' said Stephen hoarsely; 'she is gone to tell God all about you. You robbed us of our own home; and you've been the death of little Nan. God's curse will be upon you. It's no use my cursing; I can do nothing; but God can punish you better than me. A while ago I thought I'd get away to some other country where I'd never hear of you; but I'll wait now, if I'm almost clemmed to death, till I see what God will do at you. Take your money. You've robbed me of all I love, but I won't take from you what you love. I'll only wait here till I see what God can do.'

He loosed his grasp then, and opened the door wide. The master muttered a few words indistinctly, but he did not linger in the cabin beside that awful little corpse. The night had already deepened into intense darkness; and Stephen, standing at the door to listen, thought, with a quick tingling through all his veins, that perhaps the master would himself fall down the open pit. But no, he passed on securely; and Martha, coming in shortly afterwards, ventured to remark that she had just brushed against the master in the lane, and wondered where he was going to at that time of night.

Miss Anne came to see Stephen the next day; but, though he seemed to listen to her respectfully, she felt that she had lost her influence over him; and she could do nothing for him but intercede with God that the Holy Spirit, who only can enter into our inmost souls and waken there every memory, would in His own good time recall to Stephen's heart all the lessons of love and forgiveness he had been learning, and enable him to overcome the evil spirit that had gained the mastery over him.