It would have been difficult to find two children of the poorer class whose situations in life had presented a greater contrast than those of Gerty and Willie. Gerty was a neglected orphan; she had received little of that care, and still less of that love, which Willie had enjoyed. Mrs. Sullivan's husband was an intelligent country clergyman; but as he died when Willie was a baby, leaving little property for the support of his family, the widow and her child went home to her father. The old man needed his daughter; for death had made sad inroads in his household since she left it, and he was alone.
From that time the three had lived together in humble comfort, for, though poor, industry and frugality secured them from want. Willie was his mother's pride, her hope, her constant thought. She spared no care to provide for his physical comfort, his happiness, and his education and virtue.
She might well be proud of a boy whose uncommon beauty, winning disposition, and early evidences of a noble nature, won him friends even among strangers. It was his broad, open forehead, the clearness and calmness of his full grey eye, the expressive mouth, so determined and yet so mild, the well-developed figure and ruddy complexion, proclaiming high health, which gave promise of power to the future man. No one could have been in the boy's company half an hour without loving and admiring him. He had a warm-hearted, affectionate disposition, which his mother's love and the world's smiles had fostered; an unusual flow of animal spirits, tempered by a natural politeness towards his superiors; a quick apprehension; a ready command of language; and a sincere sympathy in others' pleasures and pains. He was fond of study, and until his twelfth year his mother kept him constantly at school.
At that time he had an opportunity to enter into the service of an apothecary, who did an extensive business, and wanted a boy to assist in the shop. The wages offered by Mr. Bray were not great, but there was a prospect of an increased salary; and it was not a chance to be overlooked. Fond as he was of his books, he had long been eager to be at work, helping to bear the burden of labour in the family. His mother and grandfather consented to the plan, and he gladly accepted Mr. Bray's proposals. He was sadly missed at home; for, as he slept at his employer's during the week, he rarely could make a passing visit to his mother, except on Saturday, when he came home at night and passed Sunday. So Saturday night was Mrs. Sullivan's happy night, and the Sabbath became a more blessed day than ever.
When Willie reached his mother's room on the evening of which we have been speaking, he sat down with her and Mr. Cooper, and for an hour conversation was brisk with them. Willie had always much to relate concerning the occurrences of the week. Mrs. Sullivan was interested in everything that interested Willie, and it was easy to see that the old grandfather was more entertained by the boy than he was willing to appear; for though he sat with his eyes upon the floor, and did not seem to listen, he usually heard all that was said. He seldom made comments, but would occasionally utter an impatient or contemptuous expression regarding individuals or the world in general; thereby evidencing want of confidence in men's honesty and virtue, and this formed a marked trait in his character. Willie's spirits would receive a momentary check, for he loved and trusted everybody. Willie did not fear his grandfather, who had never been severe to him, or interfered with Mrs. Sullivan's management; but he sometimes felt chilled, though he hardly knew why, by his want of sympathy with his own warm-heartedness. On the present occasion the conversation turned upon True Flint and his adopted child. Mr. Cooper had been unusually bitter, and, as he took his lamp to go to bed, declared that Gerty would never be anything but a trouble to Flint, who was a fool not to send her to the almshouse at once.
There was a pause after the old man left the room; then Willie exclaimed, "Mother, what makes grandfather hate folks?"
"Why, he don't, Willie."
"I don't mean exactly hate—I don't suppose he does that, quite; but he don't seem to think a great deal of anybody—do you think he does?"
"Oh yes; he does not show it much," said Mrs. Sullivan, "but he thinks a great deal of you, Willie, and he wouldn't have anything happen to me for the world; and he likes Mr. Flint, and——"
"Oh yes; but I don't mean that; he doesn't think there's much goodness in folks, nor to think anybody's going to turn out well, and——"