“My lodgings at the cabinet-maker’s were too small to accommodate Michael; and yet I wished to have him with me, for he seemed so infirm as to want assistance. I consequently left my cabinet-maker, and took lodgings with this stationer; he and his wife are quiet people, and I hope poor Michael has been happier since he came to me; he has, however, been for some days confined to his bed, and I have been so busy, that I have not been able to stir from home. To-day the poor little boy called for his dulcimer; I must own that I found it a more difficult job to mend it than I had expected. I could not match the wire, and I sent the boy out to an ironmonger’s a few hours ago. How little did I expect to see him return with—my mother!”
We shall not attempt to describe the alternate emotions of joy and sorrow which quickly succeeded each other in Mad. de Rosier’s heart, while she listened to her son’s little history. Impatient to communicate her happiness to her friends, she took leave hastily of her beloved son, promising to call for him early the next day. “Settle all your business to-night,” said she, “and I will introduce you to my friends to-morrow. My friends, I say proudly—for I have made friends since I came to England; and England, amongst other commodities excellent in their kind, produces incomparable friends—friends in adversity. We know their value. Adieu: settle all your affairs here expeditiously.”
“I have no affairs, no business, my dear mother,” interrupted Henry, “except to mend the dulcimer, as I promised, and that I’ll finish directly. Adieu, till to-morrow morning! What a delightful sound!”
With all the alacrity of benevolence he returned to his work, and his mother returned to Mrs. Harcourt’s. It was nearly eight o’clock before she arrived at home. Mrs. Harcourt, Isabella, and Matilda, met her with inquiring eyes.
“She smiles,” said Matilda; and Herbert, with a higher jump than he had ever been known to make before, exclaimed, “She has found her son!—I am sure of it!—I knew she would find him.”
“Let her sit down,” said Matilda, in a gentle voice.
Isabella brought her an excellent dish of coffee; and Mrs. Harcourt, with kind reproaches, asked why she had not brought her son home with her. She rang the bell with as much vivacity as she spoke, ordered her coach to be sent instantly to Golden-square, and wrote an order, as she called it, for his coming immediately to her, quitting all dulcimers and dulcimer boys, under pain of his mother’s displeasure. “Here, Mad. de Rosier,” said she, with peremptory playfulness, “countersign my order, that I may be sure of my prisoner.”
Scarcely were the note and carriage despatched, before Herbert and Favoretta stationed themselves at the window, that they might be ready to give the first intelligence. Their notions of time and distance were not very accurate upon this occasion; for before the carriage had been out of sight ten minutes, they expected it to return; and they exclaimed, at the sight of every coach that appeared at the end of the street, “Here’s the carriage!—Here he is!” But the carriages rolled by continually, and convinced them of their mistakes.
Herbert complained of the dull light of the lamps, though the street was remarkably well lighted; and he next quarrelled with the glare of the flambeaux, which footmen brandished behind carriages that were unknown to him. At length a flambeau appeared with which he did not quarrel. Herbert, as its light shone upon the footman, looked with an eager eye, then put his finger upon his own lips, and held his other hand forcibly before Favoretta’s mouth, for now he was certain. The coach stopped at the door—Mad. de Rosier ran down stairs—Mrs. Harcourt and all the family followed her—Herbert was at the coach door before Henri de Rosier could leap out, and he seized his hand with the familiarity of an old acquaintance.
The sympathy of all her joyful pupils, the animated kindness with which Mrs. Harcourt received her son, touched Mad. de Rosier with the most exquisite pleasure. The happiness that we are conscious of having deserved is doubly grateful to the heart.