CO 
 
ESUCATIOS LIEB. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Education 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Louise Farrow Barr 
 
Booklets in Hew k Fancy Bindings. 
 
 A SERIES of short, practical, and interesting voi- 
 umes, daintily bound, and intended to fill the 
 wants of those desiring inexpensive booklets of real 
 value for gift purposes. Price, 36c. per volume. 
 
 BLESSING OF CHEERFULNESS (THE). By the 
 
 Rev. J. R. Miller, D.D. 
 CHILDREN'S WING (THE). By Elizabeth Glover. 
 CONFLICTING DUTIES. By E. S. Elliott. 
 DO WE BELIEVE IT ? By E. S. Elliott. 
 EXPECTATION CORNER. By E. S. Elliott. 
 FAMILY MANNERS. By author of "Talks about a Fine 
 
 Art," etc. 
 GIRLS: FAULTS AND IDEALS. By the Rev. J. R. 
 
 Miller, U.D. 
 JESSICA'S FIRST PRAYER. Bv Hesba Stretton. 
 KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER (THE). By John 
 
 Ruskin. 
 LADDIE. By the author of " Miss Toosey's Mission." 
 LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. By Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 MASTER AND MAN. Bv Count Lyof N. Tolstoi. 
 MISS TOOSEY'S MISSION. By the author of "Laddie." 
 REAL HAPPENINGS. Hv Mrs. Mary B. Claflin. 
 SECRETS OF HAPPY HOME LIFE. By the Rev. J. 
 
 R. Miller, D.D. 
 STILLNESS AND SERVICE. By E. S. Elliott. 
 SWEETNESS AND LIGHT. By Matthew Arnold. 
 TALKS ABOUT A FINE ART. By Elizabeth Glover. 
 TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE. Bv E. S. Elliott 
 TWO PILGRIMS (THE). By Count Lyof N. Tolstoi. 
 VICTORY OF OUR FAITH (THE). By Anna Robert- 
 son Brown, Ph.D. 
 WHAT IS WORTH WHILE. By Anna Robertson 
 
 Brown, Ph.D. 
 WHAT MEN LIVE BY. Bv Count Lvof N. Tolstoi. 
 WHEN THE KING COMES TO HIS OWN. By 
 
 E. -S. Elliott. 
 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. By 
 
 Count Lvof N. Tolstoi. 
 YOUNG MEN : FAULTS AND IDEALS. By the Rev. 
 
 J. R. Miller, D.D. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, by the 
 publishers, on receipt of price. 
 
 Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., NewYork & Boston. 
 
LADDIE 
 
 BY 
 THE AUTHOR OF ««MISS TOOSEY'S MISSION" 
 
 NEW YORK: 46 East Fourteenth Street 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
 BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street 
 
Education 
 
 GIFT 
 
1SS 
 
 LADDIE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^^ Third-class forward ! Here you are, mum. Plenty 
 of room this way! Now then! that ain't third, that's 
 first. Come, look alive ! . All right behind there ? ^' 
 
 Doors bang ; a whistle ; and the train moves off. 
 
 The guard had thrust into a third-class carriage, 
 already nearly full, a bandbox with a blue spotted 
 handkerchief round it, and a bunch of Michaelmas 
 daisies, southernwood, and rosemary tucked under the 
 knot at the top ; a marketing-basket, one flap of which 
 was raised by a rosy-cheeked apple emitting a powerful 
 smell ; a bundle done up in a handkerchief of the same 
 pattern as that round the bandbox, only bright yellow ; 
 a large cotton umbrella of a pale green color, with a 
 decided waist to it ; and a pair of pattens ! Anything 
 else ? Oh, yes, of course ! there was an old woman who 
 belonged to the things ; but she was so small and fright- 
 ened and overwhelmed that she appeared quite a trifle 
 beside her belongings, and might easily have been over- 
 looked altogether. She remained just where the guard 
 had pushed her, standing in the carriage, clutching as 
 many of her things as she could keep hold of, and being 
 jerked by the motion of the train, now against a burly 
 bricklayer, and now against his red-faced wife who sat 
 
 3 
 
 279 
 
4 LADDIE. 
 
 opposite ; while her dazzled, blinking eyes followed the 
 hedges and banks that whirled past, and her breath came 
 with a catch and a gasp every time a bridge crossed the 
 line, as if it were a wave coming over her. Her fellow- 
 travellers watched her, in silence at first, having rather 
 resented her entrance, as the carriage was already suffi- 
 ciently full ; but when a sudden lurch of the train sent 
 her violently forward against a woman, from whom she 
 carromed off against the bricklayer, and flattened her 
 drawn black-satin bonnet out of all shape, the man found 
 his tongue, which was a kind one, though slow in moving. 
 
 " Hold hard, missus ! " he said ; " we don't pay nothing 
 extra for sitting down, so maybe you could stow some of 
 them traps of yours under the seat, and make it kind of 
 more comfortable all round. Here, mother, lend a hand 
 with the old lady's things, can't you ? That's my mis- 
 sus, mum, that is, my better arf, as the saying is, and 
 no chap needn't wish for a better, though I say it as 
 shouldn't." 
 
 This remark produced a playful kick, and a " Get along 
 with you ! " from the red-faced wife, which did not show 
 it was taken amiss, but that she was pleased with the 
 delicate compliment, and she helped to arrange the 
 various baskets and bundles with great energy and good- 
 nature. 
 
 " Now that's better, ain't it ? Now you can just set 
 yourself down. Lor' bless the woman ! whatever is she 
 frightened at ? " 
 
 For the bustling arrangements were seriously alarming 
 to the old woman, who was not sure that a sudden move- 
 ment might not upset the train, or that, if she let go of 
 anything in an unguarded moment, she might not fall out 
 and be whirled off like those hurrying blackberry-bushes 
 or patches of chalk on the embankment j though, indeed, 
 
LADDIE. b 
 
 it was only lier pattens and umbrella that she was clutch- 
 ing as her one protection. The first thing that roused 
 her from her daze of fear was the bricklayer's little boy 
 beginning to cry, or, as his mother called it, " to beller," 
 in consequence of his mother's elbow coming sharply in 
 contact with his head; and, at the sound, the old 
 woman's hand let go of the umbrella and felt for the 
 marketing-basket, and drew out one of the powerful, 
 yellow apples, and held it out towards the sufferer. The 
 ^' bellerin " stopped instantaneously at such a refreshing 
 sight, even while the mouth was wide open and two tears 
 forcing their way laboriously out of the eyes. Finding 
 that she could accomplish tljis gymnastic feat without 
 any dangerous results, the old woman seemed to gain 
 more confidence, seated herself more comfortably, 
 straightened her bonnet, smiled at the bricklayer, nod- 
 ded to the little boy, and, by the time the train stopped 
 at the next station, felt herself quite a bold and experi- 
 enced traveller. 
 
 " This ain't London, I take it ? " she asked, in a little, 
 thin, chirrupy voice. 
 
 " London ? bless you ! no. If you're bound for London 
 you'll have another five hours to go before you can get 
 there." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know as it's a terrible long way off, but we 
 seemed coming along at such a pace as there wasn't no 
 knowing." 
 
 " You ain't used to travelling, seemings ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I've been about as much as most folks. I've 
 been to Martel a smartish few times when Laddie was 
 there, and once I went to Bristol when I was a gal keep- 
 ing company with my master, but that ain't yesterday, 
 you'll be thinking." 
 
 " Martel's a nice place, I've heard tell? " 
 
6 LADDIE. 
 
 " So it be ; but it's a terrible big place, however." 
 
 " You'll find London a pretty sight bigger." 
 
 " I know London pretty well, though I haven't never 
 been there ; for Laddie, he's been up there nigh about 
 fifteen year, and he's told me a deal about it. I know as 
 it's all rubbish what folks say about the streets being 
 paved with gold and such like, though the young folks 
 do get took in; but Laddie, he says to me, * Mother,' 
 says he, * London is paved with hard work like any other 
 town; but,' he says, 'good honest work is worth its 
 weight in gold any day ; ' so it's something more than a 
 joke after all." 
 
 The old woman grew garrulous as the train rushed 
 along. Laddie was a subject, evidently, upon which her 
 tongue could not help being eloquent. 
 
 " An old hen with one chick," the bricklayer whispered 
 to his wife ; but they listened good-naturedly enough to 
 the stories of the wonderful baby, who had been larger, 
 fatter, and stronger than any baby before or since, who 
 had taken notice, begun teething, felt his feet, run off, 
 and said " daddy " at an incredibly early period. 
 
 Mrs. Bricklayer nodded her head and said, "Eeally 
 now ! " and " Well, I never ! " inwardly, however, reserv- 
 ing her fixed opinion that the infant bricklayers had 
 outdone the wonderful Laddie in every detail of baby- 
 hood. 
 
 rather Bricklayer could not restrain a mighty yawn 
 in the middle of a prolonged description of how Laddie's 
 gums were lanced ; but at this juncture they reached the 
 station which was the destination of the bricklayer and 
 his family, so the old woman was not wounded by the 
 discovery of their want of thorough interest, and she 
 parted from them with great regret, feeling that she had 
 lost some quite old friends in them. But she soon found 
 
LADDIE. 7 
 
 another listener, and a more satisfactory one, in a young 
 woman, whom she had hardly noticed before, as she sat 
 in the opposite corner of the carriage with her head bent 
 down, neither speaking nor being spoken to. She had a 
 very young baby wrapped in her shawl ; and as one by 
 one the other passengers left the carriage and she was 
 left alone with the old woman, the two solitary creatures 
 drew together in the chill November twilight ; and, by 
 and by, the wee baby v/as in the old woman's arms, and 
 the young mother, almost a child herself, was telling 
 her sad little story and hearing Laddie's story in return. 
 There never had been such a son ; he had got on so won- 
 derfully at school, and had been a favorite with every 
 one, — parson and schoolmaster ; " such a headpiece the 
 lad had ! " 
 
 " Was Laddie his real name ? " 
 
 " Why, no ! he was christened John Clement, after his 
 father and mine ; but he called himself ' Laddie ' before 
 ever he could speak plain, and it stuck to him. His 
 father was for making a schoolmaster of him, but Laddie 
 he didn't take to that, so we sent him into Martel to the 
 chemist there, to be shop-boy 5 and Mr. Stokes, the gen- 
 tleman as keeps the shop, took to him wonderful, and 
 spoke of him to one and another, saying how sharp he 
 were, and such, till at last one of the doctors took him 
 up and taught him a lot ; and when he went up to 
 London he offered to take Laddie, and said as he'd take 
 all the expense, and as he'd make a man of him. He 
 come to see me himself, he did, and talked me over, for I 
 was a bit loath to let him go, for 'twas the year as the 
 master died \ he died just at fall and Laddie went at 
 Christmas, and I was feeling a bit unked and lonesome." 
 
 " Were that long ago ? " 
 
 " Yes ; 'twere a goodish time. Fifteen year come 
 Christmas." 
 
8 LADDIE. 
 
 " But you'll have seen him many a time since ? " 
 
 " Well, no, I ain't. Many the time as he's been com- 
 ing down, but something always come between. Once he 
 had fixed the very day and all, and then he were called 
 off on business to Brighton or somewhere. That were a 
 terrible disappointment to the boy ; my heart were that 
 sore for him as I nearly forgot how much I'd been 
 longing for it myself." 
 
 " But he'll have wrote ? " 
 
 " Bless you, yes ! he's a terrible one for his mother, he 
 is. He've not written so much of late maybe ; but then 
 folks is that busy in London they hasn't the time to do 
 things as we has in the country ; but I'll warrant he've 
 written to me every time he had a spare moment ; and so 
 when I sees old Giles the postman come up, and I says, 
 * Anything for me, master ? ' and he says, ' Nothing for 
 you to-day, mum ' (for I were always respected in Sunny- 
 brook from a girl up), I think to myself, thinks I, 'it 
 ain't for want of the will as my Laddie hasn't wrote.' 
 And then the presents as he'd send me, bless his heart ! 
 Bank-notes it were at first, till he found as I just paid 'em 
 into the bank and left 'em there ; for Avhat did I want with 
 bank-notes ? And then he sent me parcels of things, 
 silk gownds fit for a duchess, and shawls all the colors of 
 the rainbow, till I almost began to think he'd forgot what 
 sort of an old body I be. Just to think of the likes of 
 me in such fine feathers ! And there were flannel enough 
 for a big family, and blankets ; and then he sent tea and 
 sugar, I don't know how many pounds of it; but it were 
 good and no mistake, and I'd like a cup of it now for you 
 and me, my dear." 
 
 " And have he sent for you now to come and live with 
 him ? " 
 
 " No, he don't know nothing about it ; and I mean to 
 
LADDIE. y 
 
 take him all by surprise. Old Master Heath, as my cot- 
 tage belongs to, died this summer ; and the man as took 
 his farm wants my cottage for his shepherd, and he give 
 me notice to quit. I felt it a bit and more, for I'd been 
 in that cottage thirty -five year, spring and fall, and I 
 knows every crack and cranny about it, and I fretted 
 terrible at first ; but at last I says to myself, ' Don't you 
 go for to fret ; go right off to Laddie, and he'll make a 
 home for you and glad ; ' and so I just stored my things 
 away and come right off." 
 
 " He've been doing well in London ? " 
 
 " Well, my Laddie's a gentleman ! He's a regular 
 doctor, and keeps a carriage, and has a big house and 
 servants. Mr. Mason, our parish doctor, says as he's 
 one of the first doctors in London, and that I may well 
 be proud of him. Bless me ! how pleased the boy will 
 be to see his old mother ! Maybe I shall see him walk- 
 ing in the streets, but if I don't I'll find his house and 
 creep in at the back door so as he sha'n't see me, and 
 tell the gal to say to the doctor (doctor, indeed ! my Lad- 
 die ! ) as some one wants to see him very particular. 
 And then " — The old woman broke down here, half- 
 sobbing, half -laughing, with an anticipation too tenderly, 
 ecstatically sweet for words. "My dear," she said, as 
 she wiped her brimming eyes, " I've thought of it and 
 dreamt of it so long, and to think as I should have lived 
 to see it ! " 
 
 The expectations of her travelling companion were far 
 less bright, though she had youth to paint the future 
 with bright hopes, and only nineteen winters to throw 
 into the picture dark shadows of foreboding. She had 
 been well brought up, and gone into comfortable service ; 
 and her life had run on in a quiet, happy course till she 
 met with Harry Joyce. 
 
10 LADDIE. 
 
 " Folks says all manner of ill against him/' said the 
 girl's trembling voice ; " but he were always good to me. 
 I didn't know much about him, except as he liked me, 
 and I liked him dearly ; for he come from London at fair- 
 time, and he stopped about the place doing odd jobs, and 
 he come after me constant. My mistress were sore set 
 against him, but I were pretty near mad about him ; so 
 'we was married without letting any folks at home know 
 naught about it. Oh, yes ! we was married all right. 
 I've got my lines, as I could show you as there wasn't 
 no mistake about it ; and it were all happy enough for a 
 bit, and he got took on as ostler at the George ; and there 
 wasn't a steadier, better-behaved young feller in the 
 place. But, oh, dear ! it didn't last long. He came in 
 one day and said as how he'd lost his place, and was 
 going right off to London to get work there. I didn't 
 say never a word, but I got up and begun to put our bits 
 of things together ; and then he says as he'd best go first 
 and find a place for me, and I must go home to my 
 mother. I thought it would have broke my heart, I did, 
 to part wil;h him ; but he stuck to it, and I went home. 
 Our village is nigh upon eight mile from Merrifield, and 
 I'd never heard a word from mother since I wrote to tell 
 them I was wed. When I got home that day, I almost 
 thought as they'd have shut the door on me. A story 
 had got about as I wasn't married at all, and had brought 
 shame and trouble on my folks ; and my coming home 
 like that made people talk all the more, though I showed 
 them my lines and told my story truthful. Well, mother 
 took me in, and I bided there till my baby was born ; 
 and she and father was good to me, I'll not say as they 
 wasn't ; but they were always uneasy and suspicious-like 
 about Harry ; and I got sick of folks looking and whis- 
 pering, as if I ought to be ashamed when I had naught 
 
LADDIE. 11 
 
 to be ashamed of. And I wrote to Harry more than 
 once to say as I'd rather come to him, if he'd a hole to 
 put me in ; and he always wrote to bid me bide a bit 
 longer, till baby come ; and then I just wrote and said I 
 must come anyhow, and so set off. But, oh ! I feel 
 skeered to think of London, and Harry maybe not glad 
 to see me." 
 
 It was dark by this time, and the women peering out 
 could often only see the reflection of their own faces in 
 the windows or ghostly puffs of smoke flitting past. 
 Now and then, little points of light in the darkness told 
 of homes where there were warm hearths and bright 
 lights ; and once, up above, a star showed, looking kindly 
 and home-like to the old woman. "Every bit as if it 
 were that very same star as comes out over the elm-tree 
 by the pond, but that ain't likely all this way off." 
 
 But soon the clouds covered the friendly star, and a 
 fine rain fell, splashing the windows with tiny drops, and 
 making the lights outside blurred and hazy. And then 
 the scattered lights drew closer together, and the houses 
 formed into rows, and gas lamps marked out perspective 
 lines ; and then there were houses bordering the line on 
 either side instead of banks and hedges ; and then the 
 train stopped, and a damp and steaming ticket-collector 
 opened the door, letting in a puff of fog, and demanded 
 the tickets, and was irritated to a great pitch of exasper- 
 ation by the fumbling and slowness of the two women, 
 who had put their tickets away in some place of extra 
 safety and forgotten where that place was. And then in 
 another minute the train was in Paddington; gas and 
 hurry and noise, porters, cabs, and shrieking engines, — 
 a nightmare, indeed, to the dazzled country eyes and the 
 deafened country ears. 
 
12 LADDIE, 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 In a quiet old-fashioned street near Portman Square 
 there is a door with a brass plate upon it, bearing the 
 name " Dr. Carter." The door is not singular in possess- 
 ing a brass plate, for almost every house in the street 
 displays one, being inhabited nearly entirely by doctors 
 and musical professors. I do not attempt to explain why 
 it is so, — whether that part of London is especially un- 
 healthy, and so requires constant and varied medical ad- 
 vice, or whether there is something in the air conducive 
 to harmony ; or whether the musical professors attract 
 the doctors, or the doctors the professors, I leave to more 
 learned heads to discover, only hazarding the suggestion 
 that perhaps the highly strung musical nerves may be an 
 interesting study to the faculty, or that music may have 
 charms to soothe the savage medical breast or drive away 
 the evil spirits of the dissecting-room. Anyhow, the fact 
 remains that North Crediton Street is the resort of doc- 
 tors and musical men, and that on one of the doors stands 
 the plate of Dr. Carter. 
 
 It was an old-fashioned, substantially built house, built 
 about the beginning of the last century, when people 
 knew how to build solidly, if not beautifully. It had 
 good thick walls, to which you might whisper a secret 
 without confiding it to your next-door neighbor, and firm, 
 well-laid floors, on which you might dance, if you had a 
 mind to, without fear of descending suddenly into the 
 basement. There were heavy frames to the windows, 
 and small squares of glass, and wooden staircases with 
 thick, twisted banisters, — a house altogether, at which 
 
LADDIR 13 
 
 housemaids looked with contempt, as something infinitely 
 less " genteel " than the " splendid mansions " of lath and 
 plaster, paint and gilding, which are run up with such 
 magic speed nowadays. We have no need to ring the 
 bell and disturb the soft-voiced, deferential man-servant, 
 out of livery, from the enjoyment of his evening paper 
 in the pantry, for we can pass uninvited and unannounced 
 into Dr. Carter's consulting-room, and take a look at it 
 and him. There is nothing remarkable about the room : 
 a book-case full of medical and scientific books ; a large 
 writing-table with pigeon-holes for papers and a stetho- 
 scope on the top ; a reading-lamp with a green shade, and 
 an india-rubber tube to supply it with gas from the burner 
 above ; a side-table with more books and papers and a 
 small galvanic battery ; a large india-rubber plant in the 
 window ; framed photographs of eminent physicians and 
 surgeons over the mantelpiece ; a fire burning low in the 
 grate ; a thick turkey carpet and heavy leather chairs ; 
 and there you have an inventory of the furniture, to 
 arrange before your mind's eye if you think it worth 
 while. 
 
 There is something remarkable in the man, John 
 Clement Carter, M.D., but I cannot give you an inven- 
 tory of him, or make a broker's list of eyes and forehead, 
 nose and mouth. He is not a regularly handsome man, 
 not one that a sculptor would model or an artist paint, 
 but his is a face that you never forget if you have once 
 seen it ; there is something about him that makes people 
 move out of his path involuntarily ; and strangers ask, 
 " Who is that ? " Power is stamped in his deep-set eyes 
 and the firm lines of mouth and chin, — power which gives 
 beauty even to an ugly thing, throwing a grandeur and 
 dignity round a black, smoky engine, or a huge, ponder- 
 ous steam-hammer. Indeed, power is beauty ; for there 
 
14 LADDIE. 
 
 is no real beauty in weakness, physical or mental. His 
 eyes had the beauty of many doctors' eyes, — kind and 
 patient, from experience of human weakness and trouble 
 of all sorts ; keen and penetrating, as having looked 
 through the mists of pain and disease, searching for 
 hope, ay, and finding it too sometimes where other men 
 could only find despair ; brave and steady, as having met 
 death constantly face to face ; clear and good, as having 
 looked through the glorious glass of science, and seen, 
 more plainly the more he looked, the working of the 
 Everlasting Arms ; for surely when science brings con- 
 fusion and doubt, it proves that the eye of the beholder 
 is dim or distorted, or that he is too ignorant to use the 
 glass rightly. But there is a different look in his eyes 
 to-night; pain and trouble and weakness are far from 
 his thoughts ; and he is not gazing through the glass of 
 science, though he has a Medical Review open before him, 
 and a paper-knife in his hand to cut the leaves ; his eyes 
 have wandered to a bunch of Russian violets in a speci- 
 men glass on the table ; and he is looking through rose- 
 colored spectacles at a successful past, a satisfactory 
 present, and a beautiful future. 
 
 I need not tell my readers that this Dr. John Clement 
 Carter was the Somersetshire boy whom good Dr. Savile 
 had taken by the hand, and whose talents had made the 
 ladder which carried him up to eminence. The kind old 
 doctor liked to tell the story over a glass of port wine to 
 the friends round his shining mahogany (he was old- 
 fashioned, and tliought scorn of claret and dinners a la 
 Russe). " I was the making of the man," he would say ; 
 " and I'm as proud of him, by Jove ! sir, as if he were a 
 son of my own." 
 
 It is quite as difficult to rise in the world gracefully 
 as to come down ; but every one agreed that John Carter 
 
LADDIE. 15 
 
 managed to do it, and just from this reason, that there 
 was no pretence about him. He did not obtrude his low 
 origin on every one, forcing it on people's attention with 
 that fidgety uneasiness which will have people know it 
 if they are interested in the subject or not, which is only 
 one remove from the unworthy pride that tries to hide it 
 away altogether. Neither did he boast of it as some- 
 thing very much to his credit ; but to any one who cared 
 to know he would say, " My family were poor working 
 people in Somersetshire, and I don't even know if I had 
 a grandfather ; and I owe everything to Dr. Savile." 
 And he would say it with a smile and a quiet manner, as 
 if it were nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to be 
 proud of, but just a fact which was hardly of interest ; 
 and his manner somehow made people feel that birth and 
 breeding were after all mere insignificant circumstances 
 of life, and of no account by the side of talent and suc- 
 cess. " He's a good fellow, John Carter, and a clever 
 fellow too, without any humbug about him," the men 
 said; and the women thought much the same, though 
 they expressed it differently. Indeed, the glimpse of 
 his early humble country life, so simply given, without 
 any pretence or concealment, grew to be considered an 
 effective, picturesque background, which showed up to 
 advantage his present success and dignified position. It 
 was quite true that there was no humbug or concealment 
 about him; that was the very truth he told; and yet, 
 somehow, as time went on, the words lost the full mean- 
 ing they had to him at first. Don't you know, if you use 
 the same words frequently they get almost mechanical ; 
 even in our prayers, alas ! they are no longer the expres- 
 sion of our feeling, but the words come first and the 
 feeling follows or does not follow. And then, don't 
 you know sometimes how we hear with other people's 
 
16 LADDIE. 
 
 ears, and see with other people's eyes ? And so John 
 Carter, when he said those simple, truthful words, grew 
 to see the picturesque background, — the thatched cot- 
 tage, and the honeysuckle-covered porch, and the grand 
 old patriarch with white hair, one of nature's noblemen, 
 leaning on his staff and blessing his son ; and he grad- 
 ually forgot the pigsty close to the cottage door, and 
 father in a dirty green smock and hob-nailed boots, doing 
 what he called " mucking it out," and stopping to wipe 
 the heat from his brow with a snuffy, red cotton hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 But come back from the pigsty to the violets which 
 are scenting the consulting-room, and luring Dr. Carter, 
 not unwillingly, from the Medical Review to thoughts of 
 the giver. Her name is Violet too, and so are her eyes, 
 though the long lashes throw such a shadow that you 
 might fancy they were black themselves. It is not every 
 one — indeed, it is John Carter alone — who is privileged 
 to look straight down into those eyes, and see the beauty 
 of their color; only he, poor, foolish fellow, forgets to 
 take advantage of his opportunity, and only notices the 
 great love for him that shines there and turns his brain 
 with happiness. His hand trembles as he stretches it to 
 take the specimen glass ; and the cool, fragrant flowers 
 lightly touch his lip as he raises them to his face. 
 " Pshaw ! " I hear you say, reminding me of my own 
 words, "there is no beauty in weakness, and this is 
 weakness indeed ! — a sensible man, past the heyday 
 and folly of youth, growing maudlin and sentimental 
 over a bunch of violets ! " No, reader, it is power, — the 
 strongest power on earth, — the power of love. 
 
 He had been used to say that his profession was his 
 lady-love, and he had looked on with wondering, iru^red- 
 ulous eyes at the follies and excesses of young lovers ; 
 
LADDIE. 17 
 
 he was inclined to think it was a mild form of mania, and 
 required physical treatment. And so he reached five- 
 and-thirty unscathed, and slightly contemptuous of 
 others less fortunate than himself ; when, one day, a 
 girl's blue eyes, looking shyly at him through dark lashes, 
 brought him down once and forever from his pedestal of 
 fancied superiority ; and before he could collect his argu- 
 ments, or reason himself out of it, he was past cure, 
 hopelessly, helplessly, foolishly in love. They had been 
 engaged for two days ; it was two days since this clever 
 young doctor, this rising, successful man, with such 
 stores of learning, such a solid intellect, such a cool, calm 
 brain, had stood blushing and stammering before a girl 
 of eighteen. If I were to write down the words he said, 
 you would think my hero an idiot pure and simple ; the 
 most mawkish and feeble twaddle of the most debased of 
 penny periodicals was vastly superior to what Dr. Carter 
 stammered out that day. But is not this generally the 
 case ? Beautiful, poetical love-scenes are frequent in 
 plays and books, but very rare in real life. There is not 
 one love-scene in a thousand that would bear being taken 
 down in shorthand, printed in plain, black type, and 
 read by critical eyes through commonplace spectacles. 
 Nevertheless, the feelings are no doubt sublime, though 
 the words may be ridiculous. He was quite another man 
 altogether (happily for him) when he went to Sir John 
 Meredith, and told him plainly that he was no match for 
 his daughter as far as birth went. 
 
 " My good fellow," the sensible little baronet answered, 
 " there are only about ten families in England that can 
 put their pedigree by the side of the Merediths, and it 
 don't seem to me to make much difference, if you rise 
 from the ranks yourself, or if your father or grandfather 
 did it." 
 
18 LADDIE. 
 
 " I can scarcely claim even to be a gentleman," the 
 young man went on, feeling pretty sure of success by 
 that time. 
 
 "Not another word, my dear boy ; not another word ! 
 I respect your candor, and I esteem you very highly as 
 an honest man, — the noblest work of God, you know, 
 eh ? — though I'd like to hear any one say that you were 
 not a gentleman as well. There, go along ! shake hands ! 
 God bless you ! You'll find Violet in the drawing-room. 
 Sly little puss ! but I saw what was coming — and mind 
 you dine with us this evening at seven sharp — old-fash- 
 ioned folk, old-fashioned hours." 
 
 I think the wary baronet also respected Dr. Carter's 
 income, and esteemed very highly his success, and hav- 
 ing weighed the advantages of family and birth against 
 success and income, had found that the latter were the 
 more substantial in the worldly scales. 
 
 And so Dr. Carter was dreaming rosy dreams that 
 evening in his quiet room, as was fit and proper after 
 two days' wandering in fairyland with Violet Meredith. 
 But as the scent of the violets had led him to think of 
 the giver, so it drew his thoughts away from her again 
 back to springtime many years ago at Sunny brook, and 
 the bank where the earliest violets grew in the sheltered 
 lane leading to the Croft Farm. Did ever violets smell 
 so sweet as those ? He remembered one afternoon, after 
 school, going to fetch the milk from the farm, and the 
 scent luring him across the little runlet by the side of 
 the path, which was swollen into a small, brawling brook 
 by the lately thawed snow. He set down the can safely 
 before he made the venture ; and Dr. Carter laughed 
 softly to himself to think how short and fat the legs 
 were that found the little stream such a mighty stride. 
 He was busy diving for the flowers among the layers of 
 
LADDIE. 19 
 
 dead elrri-leaves, which the blustering autumn winds had 
 blown there, when a sound behind him caused him to 
 look round, and there was the can upset, and the young 
 foxhound quartered at the Croft licking up the white 
 pool from the pebbles. In his anger and fear and 
 haste, he slipped as he tried to jump back, and went full 
 length into the stream, and scrambled out in a sad plight, 
 and went home crying bitterly, with a very wet pinafore, 
 and dirty face, and empty milk-can, with the cause of 
 his mishap, the sweet violets, still clasped unconsciously 
 in his little scratched hand. And his mother — ah ! she 
 was always a good mother ! He could remember still 
 the comforting feeling of mother's apron wiping away 
 dirt and tears, and the sound of her voice bidding him 
 " Never mind ! and hush up like a good little Laddie." 
 His heart felt very warm just then towards that mother 
 of his ; and he made up his mind that, cost what trouble 
 it might, he would go down and see her before he was 
 married, if it^ere only for an hour or two, just to make 
 sure that she was comfortable, and not working about 
 and wearing herself out. His conscience pricked him a 
 little at the thought of what a pleasure the sight of him 
 would have been to the old woman, and how year after 
 year had slipped away without his going down. But 
 still a comforting voice told him that he had been sub- 
 stantially a good son, and it was accident and not inten- 
 tion that had kept him away. "Anyhow," he said to 
 himself, " another month shall not pass without my seeing 
 my mother." 
 
 At this moment the deferential man knocKcd at the 
 door and aroused Dr. Carter to the consciousness of how 
 far his wandering thoughts had carried him from his 
 consulting-room and Medical Review. 
 
 "What is it, Hyder?" 
 
20 LADDIE. 
 
 " Please, sir, there's some one wishes to see you. I 
 told her it was too late, and you was engaged very par- 
 ticular, but she wouldn't be put off nohow, sir." 
 
 " What is her name ? " 
 
 There was a slight smile disturbing the usually unruf- 
 fled serenity of Mr. Hyder's face, as if he had a lingering 
 remembrance of something amusing. 
 
 " She didn't give no name, sir, and she wouldn't say 
 what she wanted, though I asked if a message wouldn't 
 do ; but she said her business was too particular for that, 
 sir." 
 
 " What sort of person is she ? " 
 
 The corners of the man's mouth twitched, and he had 
 to give a little cough to conceal an incipient chuckle. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, sir. She appears to be from the 
 country, sir. Quite a countrified, homely old body, sir." 
 
 Perhaps the odor of the violets and the country mem- 
 ories they had called up made him more amiably in- 
 clined; but instead of the sharp, decided refusal the 
 servant expected, " Tell her it is long past my time for 
 seeing patients, and I am busy, and she must call again 
 to-morrow," he said, " Well, show her in ; " and the man 
 withdrew in surprise. 
 
 " Countrified, homely old body." Somehow the de- 
 scription brought back to his mind his mother coming 
 down the brick path from the door at home, with her 
 Sunday bonnet on, and her pattens in her hand, and 
 the heavy-headed double stocks and columbines tapping 
 against her short petticoats. The doctor smiled to him- 
 self ; and even while he smiled the door was pushed 
 open, and before him he saw, with a background of the 
 gas-lit hall and the respectful Hyder, by this time devel- 
 oped into an incontrollable grin, his mother, in her Sun- 
 day bonnet and with her pattens in her hand. 
 
LADDIE. 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Reader, think of some lovely picture of rustic life^ 
 with tender lights and pleasant shadows, with hard lines 
 softened, and sharp angles touched into gentle curves, 
 with a background of picturesque, satisfying appropriate- 
 ness, with the magic touches that bring out the beauty 
 and refinement and elegance of the scene, which are 
 really there, and that subtly tone down all the roughness 
 and awkwardness and coarseness, which are also equally 
 there. And then, imagine it, if you can, changing under 
 your very eyes, with glaring lights and heavy shadows 
 deepening and sharpening and hardening wrinkles and 
 angles and lines, exaggerating defects, bringing coarse- 
 ness and age and ugliness into painful prominence, and 
 taking away^at a sweep the pretty, rural background 
 which might have relieved and soothed the eye, and put- 
 ting a dull, commonplace, incongruous one in its place. 
 It was something of this sort that happened to John 
 Carter that night, when the picture he had been painting 
 with the sweet lights of love and childhood's fancies, and 
 the tender shadows of memory throwing over it all soft 
 tones of long ago and far away, suddenly stood before 
 him in unvarnished reality, with all the glamour taken 
 away, an every-day fact in his present London life. 
 
 I am glad to write it of him, that, for the first minute, 
 pleasure was the uppermost feeling in his mind. First 
 thoughts are often the best and purest. He started up, 
 saying, " Mother ! why, mother ! " in the same tone of 
 glad surprise as he would have done fifteen years before 
 if she had come unexpectedly into the shop at Martel ; 
 
22 LADDIE. 
 
 he did not even think if the door were closed, or what 
 Mr. Ilyder would think ; he did not notice that she was 
 crumpled and dirty with travel, or that she put her pat- 
 tens down on his open book and upset the glass of vio- 
 lets ; he just took hold , of her trembling, hard-worked 
 hands, and kissed her furrowed old cheek, wet with 
 tears of unutterable joy, and repeated, "Mother! why, 
 mother ! " 
 
 I am glad to write it of him ; glad that she had that 
 great happiness, realizing the hopes and longings of years 
 past, consoling in days to come when she had to turn 
 back to the past for comfort, or forward to the time of 
 perfect satisfaction. There are these exquisite moments 
 in life, let people say what they will of the disappoint- 
 ments and vanity of the world, when hope is realized, 
 desire fulfilled ; but it is just for a moment, no more, — 
 just a foretaste of the joys that shall be hereafter, when 
 every moment of the long years of eternity will be still 
 more full and perfect, when we shall " wake up " and 
 " be satisfied." 
 
 She was clinging meanwhile to his arm, sobbing out, 
 " Laddie, my boy. Laddie ! " with her eyes too dim with 
 tears to see his face clearly, or to notice how tall and 
 grand and handsome her boy was grown, and what a 
 gentleman. Presently, when she was seated in the arm- 
 chair, and had got her breath again, and wiped her foolish 
 old eyes, she was able to hunt in her capacious pocket 
 for the silver-rimmed spectacles that had descended from 
 her father, old Master Pullen in the almshouse, and that 
 Laddie remembered well, as being kept in the old family 
 Bible, and brought out with great pomp and ceremony on 
 Sunday evenings. 
 
 " I must have a good look at you. Laddie boy," she 
 said. 
 
LADDIE. 23 
 
 And then I think her good angel must have spread his 
 soft wing between the mother and son (though to her 
 mind it seemed only like another tear dimming her sight, 
 with a rainbow light on it), to keep her from seeing the 
 look that was marring that son's face. All the pleasure 
 was gone, and embarrassment and disqmet had taken its 
 place. 
 
 " However did you come, mother ? " he said, trying his 
 best to keep a certain hardness and irritation out of his 
 voice. 
 
 " I come by the train, dear," the old woman answered ; 
 " and it did terrify me more nor a bit at first, I'll not go 
 for to deny ; but, bless you ! I soon got over it, and them 
 trains is handy sort of things when you gets used to 'em. 
 I was a good deal put to though when we got to London 
 station, there seemed such a many folks about, and they 
 did push and hurry a body so. I don't know whatever I 
 should adone if a gentleman hadn't come and asked me 
 where I wanted to get to. He were a tallish man with 
 whiskers, a bit like Mr. Jones over at Martel, and I dare 
 say you knows him ; but he were terrible kind however." 
 
 John Carter did not stop to explain that there were 
 many tallish men with whiskers in London. 
 
 " Why didn't you write and say you were coming ? " 
 
 " Well, there ! I thought as I'd give you a surprise ; 
 and I knew as you'd be worrying about the journey and 
 thinking as I'd not be able to manage ; but I'm not such 
 a helpless old body, after all. Laddie." 
 
 " Whom have you left in charge of the cottage ? " 
 
 " Why, I've give it up altogether. Farmer Harris, he 
 wanted it for his shepherd, and he give me notice. That's 
 why I come all on a sudden like. I says to myself, says 
 I, Laddie's got a home and a welcome for his old mother, 
 and it's only because he thought as I was pretty nearly 
 
24 LADDIE. 
 
 growed to the old place, and couldn't abear to leave it, 
 that he ain't said as I must come and keep house for him 
 long ago. But, bless you ! I've been thinking so of the 
 pleasure of seeing you again that I've pretty nearly forgot 
 as I was leaving my master's grave and all." 
 
 " And when niust you go back ? " 
 
 ^' Not till you gets tired of me. Laddie, or till you 
 takes me to lay me by the old master ; for I'd like to lay 
 there, if so be as you can manage it, for I've heard tell 
 as it costs a mort of money buryin' folks out of the 
 parish as they dies in, and maybe it mightn't be just 
 convenient to you." 
 
 John Carter busied himself with making the lire burn 
 up into a blaze, while liis mother rambled on, telling him 
 little bits of village gossip about people he had long since 
 forgotten or never heard of; or describing her journey, 
 which was a far greater exploit in the old woman's eyes 
 than Lieutenant Cameron's walk across Africa ; or dwell- 
 ing on the delight of seeing him again. He paid little 
 heed to what she said, pretending to be intent on placing 
 a refractory piece of coal in a certain position, or coaxing 
 an uncertain little flame into steadiness ; but his head 
 was busy trying to form some plan for getting himself 
 out of his difficult position. He did not want to hurt 
 her, or to be unkind in any way ; but it was altogether 
 out of the question having her there to live with him. 
 It Avould ruin all his prospects in life, his position in 
 his profession and in society ; as to his engagement, 
 he did not venture to allow himself even to think of 
 Violet just then. He knew some doctors whose mothers 
 lived with them, and kept house for them, received 
 their guests, and sat at the head of their table, but 
 they were ladies, very different. The very idea of his 
 mother with three or four servants under her was au 
 
LADDIE. 25 
 
 absurdity. And this thought brought Hyder's grin 
 before his mind. What had happened when his mother 
 arrived? Had she committed herself and him fright- 
 fully by her behavior ? ISTo doubt that impudent rascal 
 was giving a highly facetious account of it all to 
 the maids in the kitchen. Chattering magpies ! And 
 how they would pass it on ! How Mary Jane would 
 describe it through the area gate to the milk-woman next 
 morning, and cook add a pointed word or two from the 
 front steps as she cleaned them ! . He could almost smell 
 the wet hearthstone and hear the clinking of the tin 
 milk-pails as Biddy hooked them to the yoke and passed 
 on with the story of his degradation. And he could 
 fancy what a choice morsel it would make for Hyder to 
 tell Sir John Meredith's solemn, red-nosed butler, behind 
 his hand, in a hoarse whisper, with winks to emphasize 
 strong points, and an occasional jerk of the thumb over 
 the shoulder and a careful avoidance of names. This 
 thought wa^oo much for his feelings, and the tongs went 
 down with an ominous clatter into the fender, making the 
 old woman jump nearly off her chair, and cutting short 
 a story about the distemper among Squire Wellow's 
 pigs. 
 
 " There ; it brought my heart into my mouth, pretty 
 near, and set me all of a tremble. I reckon as I'm a 
 little bit tired, and it have shook up my nerves like, and 
 a little do terrify one so." 
 
 The sight of her white, trembling old face touched his 
 son's and doctor's heart under the fine, closely woven, 
 well-cut coat of fine gentlemanliness and worldly wisdom 
 which he was buttoning so closely round him. 
 
 " You are quite tired out, mother," he said ; " you shall 
 have some tea and go to bed. I can't have you laid up, 
 you know," 
 
26 LADDIE. 
 
 " There now ! if I wasn't thinking as a dish of tea 
 would be the nicest thing in the world ! and for you to 
 think of it ! Ah ! you remembers what your mother 
 likes, bless you ! " 
 
 In that moment he had quickly made up his mind that 
 at any rate it was too late for that night to do anything 
 but just make her comfortable ; to-morrow something 
 must be done without delay ; but there was ten striking, 
 and she was evidently quite worn out. He must say 
 something to silence those jays of servants and get her 
 off to bed, and then he could sit down and arrange his 
 plans quietly ; for the suddenness of the emergency had 
 confused and muddled him. 
 
 " I'll tell them to get some tea," he said, " you sit still 
 and rest." And then he rang the bell decidedly and went 
 out into the hall, closing the doors behind him. He had 
 never felt so self-conscious and uncomfortable as when 
 the man-servant came up the kitchen stairs and stood as 
 deferentially as ever before him. He felt as if he had 
 not got entire control of voice, eyes, or hands. His eyes 
 seemed to avoid looking at the man's face in spite of him, 
 and his voice tried hard to be apologetic and entreating 
 of its own accord. That would never do. He thrust his 
 obtrusive hands into his pockets, and drew up his head, 
 and looked sharply at the man straight in the eyes with 
 a " fight you for 2d." expression, or " every bit as if I 
 owed him a quarter's rent," as Hyder said afterwards; 
 and he spoke in a commanding, bullying tone, very unlike 
 his usual courteous behavior to servants, imagining that 
 by this he conveyed to the man's mind that he was quite 
 at his ease, and that nothing unusual had happened. 
 
 " Look here," he said, " I want tea at once in the dining- 
 room, and tell cook to send up some cold meat. I suppose 
 it's too late for cutlets or anything like that ? " 
 
LADDIE. 27 
 
 ^' Is the lady going to stop the night, sir ? ^' 
 
 The words stung Dr. Carter so, that he would have 
 liked to have kicked the man down the kitchen stairs, 
 but he luckily restrained himself. 
 
 " Yes, she is. The best bedroom must be got ready, 
 and a fire lighted, and everything made as comfortable 
 as possible. Do you hear ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." The man hesitated a second to see if there 
 were any further orders, and Dr. Carter half turned, look- 
 ing another way, as he added, " She is a very old friend 
 and nurse of mine when I was a child, and I want her 
 to be made comfortable. She will only be here this one 
 night." 
 
 He felt as he turned the handle of the consulting-room 
 door that he had really done it rather well on the whole, 
 and carried it off with a high hand, and not told any 
 falsehood after all, for was not she his oldest friend and 
 his most natural nurse ? In reality he had never looked 
 less like a gentleman, and Hyder saw it too. 
 
 They say a man is never a hero to his own valet. I do 
 not know if this includes men-servants in general ; but 
 certain it is that, up to this time. Dr. Carter had kept 
 the respect of his servant. " I know as he ain't a swell," 
 Mr. Hyder would say to the coterie of footmen who met 
 in the bar of the snug little " public " round the corner ; 
 " but for all that he ain't a bad master neither 5 and as 
 far as my experience serves, he's as good a gent as any 
 of them, and better any day than them dandy, half-pay 
 captings as locks up their wine and cigars, and sells their 
 old clothes, and keeps their men on scraps, and cusses 
 and swears as if they was made of nothing else." 
 
 But as Hyder went to his pantry that night, he shook 
 his head with a face of supreme disgust. " That's what 
 I call nasty ! " he said, " I'm disappointed in that man. 
 
28 LADDIE. 
 
 I thought better of him than this comes to. Well, well ! 
 blood tells after all. What's bred in the bone will come 
 out in the flesh sooner or later. Nurse indeed ! Get 
 along ! you don't humbug me, my gent ! " 
 
 There were no signs, however, of these moralizings in 
 the pantry, or the fuller discussion that followed in the 
 kitchen, when he announced that supper was ready. 
 
 " Do ye have your victuals in the kitchen now. Laddie ? " 
 the old woman said. " Well, there ! it is the most com- 
 fortable to my thinking, though gentle-folks do live in 
 their best parlors constant." 
 
 Hyder discreetly drew back, and Dr. Carter whispered 
 with a crimson flush all over his face, " Hush, we'll have 
 our talk when this fellow is out of the way. Don't say 
 anything till then." 
 
 The old woman looked much surprised, but at last con- 
 cluded that there was something mysterious against the 
 character of " the very civil-spoken young man as opened 
 the door," and so she kept silence while her son led her 
 into the dining-room, where tea was spread, with what 
 appeared to the old woman royal magnificence of white 
 damask and shining silver. 
 
 "You can go," the doctor said. "I will ring if we want 
 anything." 
 
 " He don't look such a baddish sort of young man," she 
 said, when the door closed behind the observant Hyder ; 
 " and he seems to mind what you says pretty sharp. I 
 thought as he was a gent hisself Avlien he opened the 
 door, as he hadn't got red breeches or gaiters or nothing ; 
 but I suppose you will put him into livery by and 
 by?" 
 
 " Now, mother, you must have some tea. And you are 
 not to talk till you have eaten something. Here ! I'll 
 pour out the tea." For the glories of the silver teapot 
 
LAi)Dm. 29 
 
 were drawing her attention from its reviving contents. 
 " I hope they have made it good. Ah ! I remember well 
 what tea you used to make in that little brown teapot at 
 home." It was very easy and pleasant to be kind to her, 
 and make much of her now, when no one else was there. 
 He enjoyed waiting on her, and seeing her brighten up 
 and revive under the combined influence of food and 
 warmth and kindness. He liked to hear her admire and 
 wonder at everything, and he laughed naturally and boy- 
 ishly at her odd little innocent remarks. If they two 
 could have been always alone together, with no spying 
 eyes and spiteful tongues, it would have been all right 
 and pleasant, but as it was, it was quite impossible, and 
 out of the question. 
 
 " It ain't the teapot. Laddie, as does it. It's just to 
 let it stand till it's drawed thorough and no longer. Put 
 it on the hob for ten minutes, say I, but that's enough. 
 I don't like stewed tea, and moreover it ain't wholesome 
 neither. ThiS is a fine room. Laddie, and no mistake. 
 Why, the parson ain't got one to hold a candle to it. I'd 
 just like some of the Sunnybrook folk to have a look at 
 it. It would make them open their eyes wide, I warrant ! 
 — to see me a-setting here like a lady, with this here car- 
 pet as soft as anything, and them curtains, and pictures, 
 and all ! I wonder whatever they would say if they 
 could see ? I suppose now, as there's a washus or a 
 place out behind somewheres for them servants ? " 
 
 Dr. Carter laughed at the idea of Mrs. Treasure the 
 cook, and the two smart housemaids, let alone Mr. 
 Hyder, being consigned to a wash-house at the back; 
 and he explained the basement arrangements. 
 
 " Underground. Well ! I never did ! But I think I've 
 heard tell of underground kitchens before, but I never 
 would believe it. It must be terrible dark for the poor 
 
30 LADBIB. 
 
 things, and damp moreover ; and how poor, silly gals is 
 always worriting to get places in London, passes me ! " 
 
 Presently, when they had done tea, and gone back into 
 the consulting-room, when the old woman was seated in 
 the arm-chair, with her feet on the fender, and her gown 
 turned up over her knees. Dr. Carter drew his chair up 
 near hers, and prepared for his difficult task. 
 
 " Mother," he said, laying one of his hands caressingly 
 on her arm (he was proud of his hands, — it was one of 
 his weaknesses that they were gentleman's hands, white 
 and well shaped, and there was a plain gold strap-ring 
 on the little finger, which hit exactly the right medium 
 between severity and display, as a gentleman's ring 
 should), — " Mother, I wish you had written to tell me 
 you were coming." 
 
 She took his hand between both her own, hard and 
 horny, with the veins standing up like cord on the backs, 
 rough and misshapen with years of hard work, but with 
 a world of tender mother's love in every touch, that made 
 his words stick in his throat and nearly choke him. 
 
 " I knew as you'd be pleased to see me. Laddie, come 
 when I might or how I might." 
 
 " Of course I'm glad to see you, mother, very glad ; and 
 I was thinking just before you came in that I would run 
 down to Sunny brook to see you just before Christmas." 
 
 And then he went on to explain how different London 
 life was to that at Sunnybrook, and how she would never 
 get used to it or feel happy there, talking quickly and 
 wrapping up his meaning in so many words and elabora- 
 tions that at the end of half an hour the old woman had 
 no more idea of what he meant than she had at the begin- 
 ning, and was fairly mystified. She had a strange way, 
 too, of upsetting all his skilful arguments with a simple 
 word or two. 
 
LADDIU. 81 
 
 " Different from Sunnybrook ? Yes, sure ; but sbe'd 
 get used to it like other folks. Not bappy ? Why she'd 
 be happy anywheres with her Laddie. There, don't you 
 fret yourself about me ; as long as you're comfortable I 
 don't mind nothing." 
 
 How could he make her understand and see the gulf 
 that lay between them, — her life and his ? It needed 
 much plainer speaking ; a spade must be called a spade ; 
 and, somehow, it looked a very much more ugly spade 
 when it was so called. How soon did she catch his 
 meaning ? He hardly knew, for he could not bear to 
 look into her face, and see the smile fade from her lips 
 and the brightness from her eyes. He only felt her hand 
 suddenly clasp his more tightly, as if he had tried to draw 
 it away from her ; and she grew silent, while he talked 
 on quickly and nervously, telling her they would go to- 
 gether to-morrow and find a little snug cottage not far 
 from London, with everything pretty and comfortable 
 that heart 6ould wish for, and a little maid to do the 
 work, so that she need never lay her hand to anything ; 
 and how he would come to see her often, very often, per- 
 haps once a week. Still never a word for or against, of 
 pleasure or of pain, till he said, —   
 
 " You would like it, mother, wouldn't you ? '' 
 
 And then she answered slowly and faintly, — 
 
 " I'm aweary. Laddie, too tired like for new plans ; and 
 maybe, dearie, too old." 
 
 " You must go to bed," he said, with a burst of over- 
 whelming compunction. " I ought not to have let you 
 stop up like this. I should have kept what I had to say 
 till to-morrow when you were rested. Come, think no 
 more of it to-night, everything will look brighter to- 
 morrow. I'll show you your bedroom." 
 
 And so he took her up-stairs, such a lot of stairs to the 
 
32 LADDIE. 
 
 old country legs ; but her curiosity overcame her fatigue 
 sufficiently to make her peep into the double drawing- 
 room where the gas-lamp in the street threw weird lights 
 and shadows on the ceiling, and touched unexpectedly 
 on parts of mirrors or gilded cornices, giving a mysteri- 
 ous effect to the groups of furniture and the chandelier 
 hanging in its holland covering. 
 
 " 'Tis mighty fine ! '' she said, " but an unked place to 
 my mind ; like a churchyard somat." 
 
 Her bedroom did not look " unked," however, with a 
 bright fire burning, and the inviting chintz-curtained bed 
 and the crisp muslin-covered toilet-table, with two can- 
 dles lighted. In the large looking-glass on the toilet- 
 table, the figure of the little old woman was reflected 
 among the elegant comfort of the room, looking all the 
 more small and shabby and old, and out of place in 
 contrast with her surroundings. 
 
 ^' Now make haste to bed, there's a good old mother ; 
 my room is next to this if you want anything, and I shall 
 soon come up to bed. I hope you'll be very comfortable. 
 Good-night." 
 
 And then he left her with a kiss ; and she stood for 
 some minutes quite still, looking at the scene reflected 
 in the glass before her, peering curiously and attentively 
 at it. 
 
 "And so Laddie is ashamed of his old mother," she 
 said softly, with a little sigh ; " and it ain't no wonder ! " 
 
 As Dr. Carter sat down again in his consulting-room 
 by himself, he told himself that he had done wisely, 
 though he had felt and inflicted pain, and still felt very 
 sore and ruffled. But it was wisest, and practically kind- 
 est and best for her in the end, more surely for her hap- 
 piness and comfort ; so there was no need to regret it, or 
 for that tiresome little feeling in one corner of his heart 
 
LADDIE. 33 
 
 that seemed almost like remorse. This is no story-book 
 world of chivalry, romance, and poetry ; and to get on in 
 it you must just lay aside sentimental fancies and act by 
 the light of reason and common-sense. And then he 
 settled down to arrange the details of to-morrow's plans, 
 and jotted down on a piece of paper a few memoranda of 
 suitable places, times of trains, etc., and resolved that he 
 would spare no pains or expense in making her thor- 
 oughly comfortable. He even wrote a note or two to put 
 off some appointments, and felt quite gratified with the 
 idea that he was sacrificing something on his mother's 
 account. The clock struck two as he rose to go up to 
 bed ; and he went up feeling much more composed and 
 satisfied with himself, having pretty successfully argued 
 and reasoned down his troublesome, morbid misgivings. 
 lie listened at his mother's door, but all was quiet ; and 
 he made haste into bed himself, feeling he had gone 
 through a good deal that day. 
 
 He was just turning over to sleep when his door opened 
 softly, and his mother came in, — such a queer, funny, 
 old figure, with a shawl wrapped round her and a very 
 large nightcap on, — one of the old-fashioned sort, with 
 very broad, flapping frills. She had a candle in her 
 hand, and set it down on the table by his bed. He 
 jumped up as she came in. 
 
 " Why, mother, what's the matter ? Not in bed ? Are 
 you ill?" 
 
 " There, there ! lie down ; there ain't nothing wrong. 
 But I've been listening for ye this long time. 'Tis fifteen 
 year and more since I tucked you up in bed, and you used 
 to say as you never slej^t so sweet when I didn't do it." 
 
 She made him lie down, and smoothed his pillow, and' 
 brushed his hair off his forehead, and tucked the clothes 
 round him, and kissed him as she spoke. 
 
S4 LADDIE. 
 
 " And I thought as I'd like to do it for yon once more. 
 Good-night, Laddie, good-night." 
 
 And then she went away quickly, and did not hear 
 him call, " Mother ! mother ! " after her ; for the care- 
 fully tucked-in clothes were flung off, and Laddie was out 
 of bed with his hand on the handle of the door, and then, 
 — second thoughts being cooler, if not better, — " She 
 had better sleep," Dr. Carter said, and got back into bed. 
 
 But sleep did not come at his call. He tossed about 
 feverishly and restlessly, with his mind tossing hither 
 and thither as much as his body, the strong wind of his 
 pride and will blowing against the running tide of his 
 love and conscience, and making a rough sea between 
 them, which would not allow of any repose. And which 
 of them was the strongest ? After long and fierce debate 
 with himself, he came to a conclusion which at all events 
 brought peace along with it. " Come what may," he said, 
 " I will keep my mother with me, let people say or think 
 what they will, — even if it costs me Violet herself, as 
 most likely it will. I can't turn my mother out in her 
 old age, so there's an end of it." And there and then he 
 went to sleep. 
 
 It must have been soon after this that he woke with a 
 start, with a sound in his ears like the shutting of the 
 street-door. It was still quite dark, night to Londoners, 
 morning to country people, who were already going to 
 their work and labor ; and Dr. Carter turned himself 
 over and went to sleep again, saying, " It was my fancy 
 or a dream ; " while his old mother stood shivering in 
 the cold November morning outside his door, murmur- 
 ing,— 
 
 " I'll never be a shame to my boy, my Laddie ; God 
 bless him I" 
 
LADDIE. 85 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When Dr. Carter opened his door next morning, he 
 found his mother's room empty, and it seemed almost as 
 if the events of the night before had been a bad dream ; 
 only the basket of apples, and the bandbox, still tied up 
 in the spotted handkerchief, confirmed his recollections ; 
 and when he went down, the pattens, still on his writing- 
 table, added their testimony. But where was his mother ? 
 All the servants could tell him was that they had found 
 her bedroom door open when they came down in the 
 morning, and the front door unbarred and unbolted, and 
 that was all. 
 
 " She has gone back to Sunnybrook,'' he said to him- 
 self, with "^ very sore heart. " She saw what a miser- 
 able, base-heayted cur of a son she had, who grudged a 
 welcome and a shelter to her who would have given her 
 right hand to keep my little finger from aching. God 
 forgive me for wounding the brave old heart ! I will go 
 and bring her back. She will be ready to forgive me 
 nearly before I speak." 
 
 He looked at the train paper, and found there was an 
 early, slow train by which his mother must have gone, 
 and an express that would start in about an hour, and 
 reach Martel only a quarter of an hour after the slower 
 one. This just gave him time to make arrangements for 
 his engagements, and write a line to Violet, saying he 
 was unexpectedly called away from London, but that he 
 would come to her immediately on his return, for he had 
 much. to tell and explain. The cab was at the door to 
 take him to the station, and everything was ready, and 
 he was giving his last directions to Mr. Hyder, 
 
36 LADDIE. 
 
 " I shall be back to-morrow, Hyder, without fail, and 
 I shall bring my mother with me." He brought out the 
 word even now with an effort, and hated himself for the 
 flush that came up into his face ; but he went on lirmly, 
 " That was my mother who was here last night, and no 
 man ever had a better." 
 
 I don't know how it happened, but everything seemed 
 topsy-turvey that morning ; for all at once Dr. Carter 
 found himself shaking hands with Hyder before he knew 
 what he was about ; and the deferential, polite Hyder, 
 whose respect had always been slightly tinged with con- 
 tempt, was saying, with tears in his eyes, " Indeed, sir, I 
 see that all along ; and I don't think none the worse of 
 you, but a deal the better, for saying it out like a man ; 
 and me and cook and the gals will do our best to make 
 the old lady comfortable, that we will ! " 
 
 Dr. Carter felt a strange, dream-like feeling as he got 
 into the cab. Every one and everything seemed changed, 
 and he could not make it out ; even Hyder seemed some- 
 thing more than an excellent servant. It was quite a 
 relief to his mind, on his return next day, to find Hyder 
 the same imperturbable person as before, and the little 
 episode of hand-shaking and expressed sympathy not 
 become a confirmed habit. It was a trifling relief even 
 in the midst of his anxiety and disappointment ; for he 
 did not find his mother at Sunnybrook, nor did she 
 arrive by either of the trains that followed the one he 
 came by, though he waited the arrival of several at Mar- 
 tel. So he came back to London, feeling that he had 
 gone on the wrong tack, but comforting himself with 
 the thought that he would soon be able to trace her out 
 wherever she had gone. But it was not so easy as he 
 expected; the most artful and experienced criminal, 
 escaping from justice, could not have gone to work more 
 
LADDIE. 37 
 
 skilfully than the old woman did quite unconsciously. 
 All his inquiries were fruitless ; she had not been seen or 
 noticed at Paddington, none of the houses or shops about 
 had been ox^en or astir at that early morning hour. Once 
 he thought he had a clew, but it came to nothing ; and, 
 tired and dispirited, he was obliged, very unwillingly, to 
 put the matter into the hands of the police, who undertook 
 with great confidence to find the old woman before 
 another day was past. 
 
 It was with a very haggard, anxious face that he came 
 into the pretty drawing-room in Harley Street, where 
 Violet sprang up from her low chair by the fire, to meet 
 him. How pretty she was ! how sweet ! how elegant 
 and graceful every movement and look, every detail of 
 her dress ! His eyes took in every beauty lovingly, as 
 one who looks his last on something dearer than life, and 
 then lost all consciousness of any other beauty, in the 
 surpassing beauty of the love for him in her eyes. She 
 stretched out,,both her soft hands to him, with the ring 
 he had given her the only ornament on them, and said, 
 " Tell me about it." 
 
 Do not you know some voices that have a caress in 
 every word and a comfort in every tone ? Violet 
 Meredith's was such a voice. 
 
 " I have come for that," he said ; and he would not 
 trust himself to take those hands in his, or to look any 
 longer into her face ; but he went to the fire and looked 
 into the red caves among the glowing coals. " I have 
 come to tell you about my mother. I have deceived you 
 shamefully." 
 
 And then he told her of his mother, describing her as 
 plainly and carefully as he could, trying to set aside 
 everything fanciful or picturesque, and yet do justice to 
 the kindj simple, old heart, trying to make Violet see the 
 
38 LADDIE. 
 
 great difference between the old countrywoman and her- 
 self. And then he told her of her having come to him, 
 to end her days under her son's roof. " I could not ask 
 you to live with her/' he ended sadly. 
 
 She had clasped her hands round his arm shyly, for it 
 was only a few days since she had had to hide away her 
 love, like a stolen treasure, out of sight. 
 
 " It is too late to think of that," she said, with a little 
 coaxing laugh ; " too late, for you asked me to be your 
 wife a week ago. Yes, John," — the name came still 
 with a little hesitation, — "a whole week ago, and I will 
 not let you off. And then I have no mother of my own ; 
 she died before I can remember ; and it will be so nice 
 to have one, for she will like me for your sake, won't 
 she ? And what does it matter what she is like, you 
 silly old John ? — she is your mother, and that is quite 
 enough for me. And don't you think I love you more 
 ridiculously than ever because you are so good and noble 
 and true to your old mother, and are not ashamed of her 
 because she is not just exactly like other people ? " And 
 she laid her soft cheek against his sleeve, by her clasped 
 hands, as she spoke. 
 
 But he drew away with almost a shudder. " Love me 
 less, then, Violet ; hate me, for I was ashamed of her ; I 
 was base and cowardly and untrue, and I wanted to get 
 her out of the way so that no one should know, not even 
 you, and I hurt and wounded her, — her who would have 
 done anything for her ' Laddie,' as she calls me, — and 
 she went away disappointed and sad and sorry, and I 
 cannot find her." 
 
 He had sunk down into Violet's low chair and covered 
 up his face with his hands, and through the fingers forced 
 their way the hot, burning tears, while he told of his in- 
 effectual efforts to find her, and his shame and regret. 
 
LADDIE. 39 
 
 She stood listening, too pitiful and sorry for words, 
 longing to comfort him ; and at last she knelt down and 
 pulled his hands gently away from his face, and whis- 
 pered very softly, as if he might not like to hear her use 
 his mother's name, "We will find her, never fear; your 
 mother and mine. Laddie." And so she comforted him. 
 
 What an awful place London is. I do not mean awful 
 in the sense in which the word is used by fashionable 
 young ladies, or schoolboys, by whom it is applied indis- 
 criminately to a "lark" or a "bore," into which two 
 classes most events in life may, according to them, be 
 divided, and considered equally descriptive of sudden 
 death or a new bonnet. I use it in its real meaning, full 
 of awe, inspiring fear and reverence, as Jacob said, 
 " How dreadful is this place," — this great London, with 
 its millions of souls, with its strange contrasts of riches 
 and poverty, business and pleasure, learning and igno- 
 rance, and the sin everywhere. Awful indeed! and the 
 thought would b^ overwhelming in its awfulness if we 
 could not say also as Jacob did, " Surely the Lord is in 
 this place, and I knew it not ; " if we did not know that 
 there is the ladder set up, reaching to heaven, and the 
 angels of God ever ascending and descending ; if we did 
 not believe that the Lord stands above it. It seemed a 
 very terrible place to the old countrywoman as she 
 wandered about its streets and squares, its parks and 
 alleys, that November day, too dazed and stupefied to 
 form any plan for herself, only longing to get out of 
 sight, that she might not shame her boy. She felt no 
 bitterness against him ; for it was not natural when he 
 was a gentleman, and she a poor, homely old body ? 
 
 In the early morning, when the streets were empty 
 except for policemen or late revellers hurrying home, or 
 market-carts coming in from the country, with frosty 
 
40 LADDIE. 
 
 moisture on the heaps of cabbages, she got on pretty 
 well. She had a cup of coffee at an early coffee-stall, 
 and no one took any notice of her ; some of those that 
 passed were country people too ; and at that early hour 
 people are used to see odd, out-of-the-way figures, that 
 would be stared at in the height of noon. But as the 
 day went on the streets filled with hurrying people, and 
 the shops opened, and omnibuses and cabs began to run, 
 and she got into more bustling, noisy thoroughfares, and 
 was hustled and pushed about and looked at, the terrors 
 of the situation came heavily upon her. She tried to 
 encourage herself with the thought that before long she 
 should get out of London and reach the country, little 
 knowing, poor old soul, how many miles of streets and 
 houses and pavements lay between her and the merest 
 pretence to real country. And then, too, in that maze 
 of streets where one seemed exactly like another, her 
 course was of a most devious character, often describing 
 a circle and bringing her back through the same streets 
 without the old woman knowing that she was retracing 
 her steps ; sometimes a difficult crossing, with an appar- 
 ently endless succession of omnibusses and carts, turned 
 her from her way; sometimes a quieter-looking street, 
 with the trees of a square showing at the end, enticed 
 her aside. Once she actually went up North Crediton 
 Street, unconsciously and unnoticed. She reached one 
 of the parks at last, and sat down very thankfully on 
 a seat, though it was clammy and damp, and the fog was 
 lurking under the gaunt black trees, and hanging over 
 the thin, coarse grass, which was being nibbled by dirty, 
 desolate sheep, who looked to the old woman's eyes like 
 some new kind of London animal, not to be recognized 
 as belonging to the same species as the soft, fleecy white 
 flocks on the hillsides and meadows of Sunnybrook. 
 
LADDIE. 41 
 
 She sat here a long time, resting, dozing, and trying to 
 think. " I don't want to trouble no one, or shame no 
 one, I only want just to get out of the way." She was 
 faint and tired, and she thought perhaps she might be 
 going to die. " It's a bit unked to die all alone, and I'd 
 liefer have died in my bed comfortable-like ; but there ! 
 it don't much matter, it'll soon be all over and an end 
 to it all." But, no, that would not do either ; and the 
 old woman roused herself and shook off the faintness. 
 "Whatever would folks say if Laddie's mother was 
 found dead like any tramp in the road ? He'd die of 
 shame, pretty near, to hear it in every one's mouth." 
 Poor old soul ! she little knew how people can starve, 
 and break their hearts, and die for want of food or love 
 in London, and no one be the wiser or the sadder. It 
 was just then she found out that her pocket had been 
 picked, or rather that her purse was gone ; for she did 
 not wonder where or how it went, and, indeed, she did 
 not feel the Ibss very acutely, though, at home in the 
 old days, she had turned the house upside down and 
 hunted high and low, and spared no pains to find a miss- 
 ing halfpenny. It did not contain all her money, for 
 with good, old-fashioned caution, she had some notes 
 sewed up in her stays ; but still it was a serious loss, and 
 one she would have made a great moan over in old 
 times. She did not know that the sight of her worn old 
 netted purse, with the rusty steel rings, had touched a 
 soft spot in a heart that for years had seemed too dry 
 and hard for any feeling. It had lain in the hand of an 
 expert London pickpocket ; it was mere child's play 
 taking it ; it did not require any skill. There was a bit 
 of lavender stuck into the rings, and he smelt and looked 
 at it, and then the old woman turned and looked at him 
 with her country eyes ; and then all at once, almost in 
 
42 LADDIE. 
 
 spite of himself, he held out the purse to her. " Don't 
 you see as you've dropped your purse ? " he said in a 
 surly, angry tone, and finished with an oath that made 
 the old woman tremble and turn pale ; and he flung away, 
 setting his teeth, and calling himself a fool. That man 
 was not all bad, — who is ? — and his poor act of resti- 
 tution is surely put to his credit in the ledger of his life, 
 and will stand there when the books shall be opened. 
 The old woman got little good from it, however, for the 
 purse was soon taken by a less scrupulous thief. 
 
 How cold it was ! The old woman shivered and drew 
 her damp shawl round her, and longed, oh, how bitterly, 
 for the old fireside, and the settle, worn and polished by 
 generations of shoulders ; for the arm-chair with its 
 patchwork cushion; longed, ah, how wearily, for the 
 grave by the churchyard wall, where the master rests 
 free of all his troubles, and where "there's plenty of 
 room for I ; " and longed, too, quite as simply and pa- 
 thetically, for a cup of tea out of the cracked brown 
 teapot. But why should I dwell on the feelings of a 
 foolish, insignificant old woman? There are hundreds 
 and thousands about us whose lives are more interesting, 
 whose thoughts are more worth recording. "Are not 
 two sparrows sold for a farthing ? " and yet, " doth not 
 God take thought for sparrows ? " Then, surely, so 
 may we. Does He indeed despise not the desires of 
 such as be sorrowful, — even though the sorrowful one 
 be only an old country woman, and her desire a cup of 
 tea ? Then why should we call that common and unin- 
 teresting which He pitifully beholds ? And we shall 
 find no life that is not full of interest, tender feeling, 
 noble poetry, deep tragedy, just as there is nobody 
 without the elaborate system of nerves and muscles and 
 veins with which we are fearfully and wonderfully made. 
 
LADDIE. 43 
 
 The early November dusk was coining on before she 
 set out on her pilgrimage again, the darkness coming all 
 the earlier for the fog and the London smoke ; and then, 
 hardly caring which way she went, she turned her face 
 eastward, not knowing that she w^as making for the very 
 heart of London. The streets were even more crowded 
 and confusing than they had been in the morning ; and 
 the gas and the lighted shops, and the noise, and her own 
 weariness, combined to increase her bewilderment. 
 
 Once, as she passed round the corner of a quieter 
 street, some one ran up against her, and nearly threw 
 her down, — a lady, the old woman would have described 
 her, smartly, even handsomely, dressed, with a bright 
 color on her cheeks, and glowing, restless, unhappy eyes, 
 and dry, feverish lips. She spoke a hasty word of apol- 
 ogy, and then, all at once, gave a sharp, sudden cry, and 
 put her hands on the old woman's shoulders, and looked 
 eagerly into h^r face. Then she pushed her away with 
 a painful little laugh. " I thought you were my mother," 
 she said. 
 
 " No ; I never had no gals." 
 
 " You're in luck, then," the girl said ; " thank Heaven 
 for it." 
 
 " Was your mother, maybe, from the country ? " 
 
 " Yes ; she lived in Somersetshire. But I don't even 
 know that she's alive, and I think she must be dead. I 
 hope she is — I hope it ! " 
 
 There was something in the girl's voice that told of 
 more bitter despair than her words, and the old woman 
 put out her hand and laid it on the girl's velvet sleeve. 
 
 " My dear," she said, " maybe I could help you." 
 
 " Help ! " was the answer. " I'm past that. There, 
 good-night ! Don't trouble your kind head about me." 
 
 And then the old woman went on again, getting into 
 
44 LADDIE. 
 
 narrow, darker streets, with fewer shops, and people of 
 a rougher, poorer class. But it would overtax your pa- 
 tience and my powers to describe the old woman's wan- 
 derings in the maze of London. Enough to say, that 
 when, an hour or two later, footsore and ready to drop, 
 she stumbled along a little street near Soho Square, a 
 woman, with a baby in her arms, uttered a loud cry of 
 pleased recognition, and darted out to stop her. 
 
 " Why, it ain't never you ! Whoever would have 
 thought of seeing you so soon ; and however did you find 
 me out ? This is the house. Why, there, there ! Dontee 
 cry, sure ! dontee, now ! You're tired out. Come in and 
 have a cup of tea. I've got the kettle boiling all ready, 
 for my Harry '11 be in soon." 
 
 It was the young woman she travelled with the day 
 before, — only the day before, though it seemed months 
 to look back to ; only her face was bright and happy 
 now, in spite of the fog and dirt about her ; for had not 
 hfer Harry a home and welcome for her, in spite of all 
 her fears and people's evil prophecies ; and was not this 
 enough to make sunshine through the rainiest day ? 
 
 Very improbable, you will say, perhaps, that these two 
 waifs, these floating straws, should have drifted together 
 on the great ocean of London life. Yes, very improbable, 
 well-nigh impossible, I agree, if it is mere chance that 
 guides our way: but stranger, more improbable things 
 happen every day ; and, if we mean anything by Provi- 
 dence, it is no longer difficult to understand, for we can 
 see the Hand leading, guiding, arranging, weaving the 
 tangled, confused threads of human life into the grand, 
 clear, noble pattern of divine purpose. 
 
LADDIE. ' 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Eighteen months have passed away since my story 
 began; and it is no longer dull, foggy November, . but 
 May, beautiful even in London, where the squares and 
 parks are green and fresh, and the lilacs and laburnums 
 in bloom, and the girls sell lilies-of-the-valley and wall- 
 flowers in the streets, and trucks with double stocks 
 and narcissus " all a-growing and a-blowing '^ pass along, 
 leaving a sweet, reviving scent behind them. The sky is 
 blue, with great soft masses of cotton-wool cloud ; and 
 the air is balmy and pure in spite of smoke and dirt; 
 and sweet spring is making his power felt, even in 
 the very midst of London. It is blossoming time in the 
 heart as well as in the Kentish apple-orchards ; and the 
 heart cannot help feeling gay and singing its happy little 
 song even through its cares, like the poor larks in the 
 Seven Dials' bird-shops, ruffling their soft breasts and 
 knocking their poor brown heads against their cages in 
 their ecstasy of song. 
 
 Dr. Carter had good cause for happiness that day, 
 though, indeed, he was moving among sickness and suf- 
 fering in a great London hospital. He had some lilies 
 in his coat that Violet fastened there with her own 
 hands ; and as she did so he had whispered, " Only 
 another week, Violet ; " for their wedding-day was fixed 
 in the next week. And was not that a thought that 
 suited well with the lovely May weather, to make him 
 carry a glad heart under the lilies ? The wedding had 
 been long delayed from one cause and another, but prin- 
 cipally because the search for the old mother had been 
 
46 LADDIE. 
 
 altogether fruitless, in spite of the confidence of the 
 police. 
 
 " We will find her first," Violet would say ; " we must 
 find her. Laddie." She adopted the old name quite nat- 
 urally. "And then we will talk of the wedding." 
 
 But the time rolled on, days, weeks, and months, till 
 at last it was more than a year ago that she had gone ; 
 and though they never gave up the hope of finding her, 
 or their efforts to do so, still it no longer seemed to stand 
 between them and give a reason for putting off the 
 marriage, but rather to draw them nearer together, and 
 give a reason for marrying at once. But on Dr. Carter's 
 writing-table always stood the pair of pattens, much to 
 the surprise of patients ; but he would not have them 
 moved, and in his heart lay the pain and regret, side by 
 side with his love and happiness. 
 
 The doctors were making their rounds in the hospital, 
 with a crowd of students about them. There was a very 
 interesting case in the accident ward, over which much 
 time was spent, and much attention paid. I am not doctor 
 enough to describe what the nature of the case was ; and 
 if I were, I daresay you would not care to hear ; but it 
 was a very interesting case to the doctors and nurses ; 
 and that means that life and death were fighting over 
 that bed, and science bringing every re-enforcement in 
 its power in aid of the poor battered fortress that the 
 grim king was attacking so severely. An easy victory 
 on either one side or the other is very uninteresting to 
 lookers-on, though of the deepest moment to the patient. 
 And so the doctors passed on with hardly a word by the 
 two next beds, in one of which life was the conqueror, 
 hanging out his flags of triumph in a tinge of color on 
 the cheeks, brightness in the eyes, and vigor in the 
 limbs ; in the other, death was as plainly to be seen in 
 the still form and Avhite, drawn face. 
 
LABBIE. 47 
 
 After the doctors and students had passed by, and 
 finished their round, Dr. Carter came back alone to No. 
 -20. He had taken deep interest in the case, and had 
 something to say further about it to the nurse. He was 
 a great favorite with the nurses, from his courteous, 
 gentle manners ; so they were not disposed to regard his 
 second visit as a troublesome, fidgety intrusion, as they 
 might have done with some*^ He had not been quite 
 pleased with the way in which a dresser had placed a 
 bandage, and he altered it himself with those strong, 
 tender fingers of his, and was just going off better satis- 
 fied, when he found the flowers had dropped from his 
 coat. If they had not been Violet's gift it would not 
 have mattered ; but he did not like to lose what she had 
 given, and he looked about for them. They had fallen, 
 by some quick movement of his, on to the next bed, where 
 death was having an easy victory. 
 
 The old woman's arms were stretched outside the bed- 
 clothes, and one of her hands, hardworked hands, with 
 the veins standing up on the backs like cord, had closed, 
 perhaps involuntarily, on the flowers, the lilies and the 
 dainty green leaf. 
 
 " Here they are, sir," said the nurse ; " they must have 
 dropped as you turned round." And she tried to draw 
 them from the woman's hand, but it only closed the 
 tighter. " She doesn't know a bit what she's about. 
 Leave go of the flowers, there's a good woman," she said 
 close to her ear ; " the gentleman wants them." 
 
 But the hand still held them. 
 
 "Well, never mind!" Dr. Carter said, with just a 
 shade of vexation ; " let her keep them. It does not mat- 
 ter, and you will only break them if you try to get them 
 away." 
 
 " She's not been conscious since they brought her in," 
 
48 LADDIE. 
 
 the nurse said; "it's a street accident; knocked down 
 by an omnibus. We don't know her name, or nothing, 
 and no one's been to ask about her." 
 
 The doctor still stopped, looking at the lilies in the 
 old hand. 
 
 " She is badly hurt," he said. 
 
 The nurse explained what the house surgeon had said : 
 " Another day will see an end of it. I thought she would 
 have died this morning when I first came on ; she was 
 restless then, and talked a little. I fancy she's Scotch, 
 for I heard her say * Laddie ' several times." 
 
 The word seemed to catch the otherwise unconscious 
 ear, for the old woman turned her head on the pillow, 
 and said feebly, " Laddie." 
 
 And then, all at once, the doctor gave a cry that 
 startled all the patients in the ward, and made many a 
 one lift up her head to see the cause of such a cry. 
 
 " Mother ! " he cried, " mother, is it you ? " 
 
 Dr. Carter was kneeling by the bed, looking eagerly, 
 wildly, at the wan white face. Was he mad ? The 
 nurse thought he must be, and this a sudden frenzy. 
 And then he called again, — 
 
 " Mother, mother, speak to me ! " 
 
 A childless mother near said afterwards she thought 
 such a cry would have called her back from the dead, 
 and it almost seemed to do so in this case, for the closed 
 lids trembled and raised themselves a very little, and the 
 drawn mouth moved into the ghost of a smile, and she 
 said, — 
 
 "Eh, Laddie, here I be." 
 
 And then the nurse came nearer to reason with the 
 madman. 
 
 "' There is some mistake," she said ; " this is quite a 
 poor old woman." 
 
LADDIE. 49 
 
 And then he got up and looked at her, she said after- 
 wards, " like my lord duke, as proud as anything." 
 
 " Yes," he said, " and she is my mother. I will make 
 arrangements at once for her removal to my house if she 
 can bear it." 
 
 Ah ! that was the question, and it wanted little exami- 
 nation or experience to tell that the old woman was past 
 moving. The nurse, bewildered and still incredulous, 
 persuaded him not to attempt it ; and, instead, her bed 
 was moved into a small ward off the large one, where she 
 could be left alone. 
 
 Love is stronger than death : many waters cannot 
 drown it. Yes, but it cannot turn back those cold waters 
 of death, when the soul has once entered them ; and so 
 Dr. Carter found that with all his love and with all his 
 skill, he could only smooth, and that but a very little, 
 the steep, stony road down into Jordan. 
 
 He got a nurse to attend specially upon her, but he 
 would noMeave her ; and the nurse said it was not much 
 good her being there, for he smoothed her pillows, and 
 raised her head, and damped her lips, and fanned her 
 with untiring patience and tenderness. Once when he 
 had his arm under her head, raising it, she opened her 
 eyes wide and looked at him. 
 
 "Ah, Laddie," she said, "I'm a bit tired with my jour- 
 ney. It's a longish way from Sunnybrook." 
 
 " Did you come from there ? " 
 
 " Yes, sure ; I've never been such a long way before- 
 and I'm tired out." 
 
 " Why didn't you write ? " he asked presently, when 
 she opened her eyes again. 
 
 " I wanted to give you a surprise," she said ; " and I 
 knew as you'd be glad to see me at any time as I liked 
 to come." 
 
50 LADDIE. 
 
 And then it dawned on him that the past eighteen 
 months had been blotted clean out of her memory, and 
 that she thought she had just arrived. Then she dozed 
 and then again spoke, " And so this is your house. Lad- 
 die ? And mighty fine it be ! " looking round on the 
 bare hospital room ; " and I'm that comfortable if I 
 wasn't so tired, but 1*11 be getting up when I'm rested a 
 bit. But it do me good to see you when I opens my 
 eyes. I've been thinking all the way how pleased you'd 
 be." All this she said a word or two at a time, and very 
 low and weakly, so that only a son's ear could have 
 heard. 
 
 As the evening came on she fell asleep very quietly, 
 such a sleep as, if hope had been possible, might have 
 given hope. Dr. Carter left the nurse watching her and 
 went away, got a hansom and offered the man double 
 fare to take him to Harley Street as fast as possible. 
 Violet had just come in from a flower-show, and looked 
 a flower herself, with her sweet face and dainty dr§ss. 
 
 " I have found her," Laddie said. " Come." And 
 she came without asking a question, only knowing from 
 Laddie's face that there was sorrow as well as joy in the 
 finding. 
 
 " She is dying," he said, as they went up the hospital 
 stairs together. " Can you bear it ? " 
 
 She only answered by a pressure of her hand on his 
 arm, and they went on to the quiet room. There was a 
 shaded light burning, and the nurse sitting by the bed- 
 side. 
 
 " She has not stirred, sir, since you left." 
 
 But even as she spoke, the old woman moved and 
 opened her eyes, looking first at Laddie and then on 
 Violet. 
 
 " Who is it ? " she asked. 
 
LADDIE. 51 
 
 And then Violet knelt down with her sweet face close 
 to the old woman's, and said very softly, " Mother, I am 
 Laddie's sweetheart." 
 
 " Laddie's sweetheart ; " she echoed ; " he's over-young 
 to be wed — but there ! I forget. He's been a good son, 
 my dear, always good to his old mother, and he'll be a 
 good husband. And you'll make him a good wife, my 
 dear, won't you ? God bless you." 
 
 And then her trembling hand was feeling for some- 
 thing, and Laddie guessed her wish, and put his own 
 hand and Violet's into it ; two young hands, full of life 
 and health and pulsation, under the old, worn, hard- 
 worked hand, growing cold and weak with death. 
 
 " God bless you, dears. Laddie and his sweetheart. 
 But I'm a bit tired just now." 
 
 And then she dozed again, and the two sat by in the 
 dim, quiet room, drawn closer together and dearer to 
 each other than they ever had been before, in the pres- 
 ence of \the Great Angel of Death who was so near the 
 old mother now. And very tenderly he did his work 
 that night ! Only a sigh and then a sudden hush, during 
 which the listeners' pulses throbbed in their ears, as they 
 listened for the next long-drawn, painful, difficult breath 
 that did not come ; and then the weary limbs relaxed 
 into the utter repose and stillness of rest after labor, for 
 the night had come when no man can work, — the holy 
 starlit night of death, with the silver streaks of the great 
 dawn of the Resurrection shining in the east. 
 
 For a moment they sat spell-bound ; and then it was 
 Laddie, he who had so often seen death face to face, who 
 gave way, throwing himself on the bed with an exceed- 
 ing bitter cry, " mother, mother, say you forgive 
 me!" 
 
 What need for words ? Did he not know that she for 
 
62 LADDIE. 
 
 gave him ? If indeed she knew that she had anything to 
 forgive. But she was " a bit tired." 
 
 Don't you know when bedtime comes, and the nurse 
 calls the children, how sometimes they leave their toys, 
 which a few minutes before seemed all in all to them, 
 without a look, and the cake unfinished, and are carried 
 off with their heads bent down, and their eyes heavy 
 with sleep, too tired even to say good-night, or speak a 
 pretty, lisping word of the play-time past, or the pleas- 
 ures coming in the morning ? And so it is often with 
 us bigger children ; when the nurse Death calls us at our 
 bedtime, we are '' a bit tired," and glad to go, too sleepy 
 even for thought or farewell. 
 
 They laid her by the old master in Sunnybrook church- 
 yard; and the village folks talked long afterwards of 
 the funeral, and how Dr. Carter, " he as used to be called 
 Laddie," followed her to the grave, "along with the 
 pretty young lady as he was going to marry ; and, bless 
 my heart ! wouldn't the poor old soul have felt proud if 
 she could have seen 'em ? But she's better where she 
 is, where there ain't no buryin' and no pride neither." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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