Daniel found himself at a complete loss as to what he ought to do. The miserable creature before him shocked every sense of decency and propriety, which had been firmly and rigidly rooted in his nature; and the very sight of her, drunken and disorderly, upon his hearth, was an abomination to him. Since she had last spoken she had fallen into a brief slumber, and her grey, uncovered head was shaking and nodding with an imbecile aspect. Jessica was going upstairs, for what he did not know, unless it was to make some arrangement for her mother’s accommodation; and he remained motionless, staring at the wretched woman with a feeling of abhorrence and disgust which increased every moment.
But presently he heard Jessica’s light steps descending the stairs, and started with surprise when she came into the room. She had changed her tidy dress for the poorest and oldest clothing in her possession, and she approached him with a sorrowful but patient look upon her face.
“Mr. Daniel,” she said, unconsciously falling back into speaking the old name by which she had first called him, “you mustn’t go to take mother in out of charity, as well as me. That ’ud never do. So I’ll go away with her to-night, and in the morning, when she’s sober, I’ll tell her all about God, and Jesus Christ, and heaven. She doesn’t know it yet, but maybe when she hears every thing she’ll be a different woman; like me, you know; and then we can all help her to be good. Only I must go away with her to-night, or she’ll get into a raging fury like she used to do.”
“No, no, no!” cried Daniel vehemently. “I couldn’t let you go, dear. Why, Jessica, I love you more than my money, don’t I? God knows I love you better. I’d rather lose all my money, ay, and my place as chapel-keeper, than lose you.”
“You aren’t going to lose me,” said Jessica, with the same patient but sorrowful light in her eyes, “I’m only going away for a little while with my mother. She’s my mother, and I want to tell her all I know—that she may go to heaven as well as us. I’ll come back to-morrow.”
“She shall stay here,” said Daniel, hesitatingly.
“No, no,” answered Jessica, “that ’ud never do. She’ll be for stopping always if you give in once. You’d better let me go with her this one night; and to-morrow morning, when she’s all right, I’ll tell her everything. She’ll be very low then, and she’ll hearken to me. Mother! I’m ready to go with you.”
The woman opened her swollen eyelids and staggered to her feet, laying her hand heavily upon the slight shoulder of Jessica, who looked from her to Daniel with a clear, sad, brave smile, as she bent her childish shoulders a little under her mother’s hand, as if they felt already the heavy burden that was falling upon her life. It was a hard moment for Daniel, and he was yet doubtful whether he should let them both go, or keep them both; but Jessica had led her mother to the door, and already her hand was upon the latch.
“Stop a minute, Jessica,” he said; “I’ll let you go with her this once, only there’s a lodging-house not far off, and I’ll come with you and see you safe for the night, and pay your lodgings.”
“All right!” answered Jessica, with a quick, sagacious nod; and in a few minutes they were walking along the streets, Jessica between her mother and Daniel, all of them very silent, except when the woman broke out into a stave or two of some old, long-forgotten song. Before long they reached the lodging-house of which Daniel had spoken, and he saw them safely into the little, close, dark closet which was to be their bedroom.