David's Little Lad

by L. T. Meade

Chapter Nineteen.

A Rich Vein of Coal.

I think her prayer, which was literally a cry of agony to her true Father, brought mother some strength and comfort. She grew more composed, and when I ran away to Nan’s cottage, she went up to see Gwen.

I had obeyed David’s message to the letter. I had not let her know of any possible danger to him. All her thoughts and fears were centred on Owen—indeed, we both had thought most of Owen during the long hours of the weary night. But now David might really seek him; the chances were that the evil he dreaded was averted, that he would come up from the mine with the night shift. He would need a few hours’ rest, and then he might really seek for Owen. It had occurred to me as I lay awake in the night, that Owen, who knew nothing of my visit to Tynycymmer, might have gone there himself to tell David, this was quite a likely thing for him to do. In that case, David might go there and bring him back. I fancied his return, I fancied gentle, humble, forgiving words; I thought of mother, sister, brother, starting together on a surer, happier footing, of possible good arising out of this sorrow. In short, as I walked down to Nan’s cottage, I saw a rainbow spanning this cloud. How short-sighted and ignorant I was! Did I not know that sin must bring its punishment, that however a man may repent, however fully and freely a man may be forgiven, yet in pain, sorrow and bitterness must the wages his own deeds have brought him, be paid. I entered Nan’s cottage; it was early, not more than six o’clock, but Nan was up, had even eaten her breakfast, and was now, when I arrived, washing some coarse delf cups and saucers in a wooden tub. I had learned in my intercourse with this strange child to read her face almost like a book. The moment I saw it to-day my heart sank, Nan had on her very oldest and most careworn expression.

“You are up to fifty, to-day. Nan,” I said with the ghost of a smile. For answer, Nan looked me hard in the face, and began to cry.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she began, coming up to my side, “I’ve been thinking so much of you all, Miss Morgan, and I’ve been crying so bitter to the Lord to comfort you.”

“I am glad of that, Nan,” I said, “but don’t let us talk of our trouble now. I want you tell me all you know about the mine; and, first, has my brother come up?”

“All I know,” repeated Nan, “but Miles said I was not to babble.”

“Yes, but my brother has told me there is, or was, danger; you know we always imagine danger to be worse than it is, so do tell me what is wrong; and, first, has my brother come up?”