The happiness of Hazelbrook
Price said to Katie,—
"Did you bring your money with you?"
"Yes, here it is," answered Katie, showing her the shilling.
"Give it to me, then; there are just six of us, and the shilling will
pay for us all; I can pay you again by-and-by."
Katie gave Fanny the shilling, and the girls entered the show.
Katie was pleased to see the elephant and the other animals, but
thought they looked very miserable, cooped up in their close, small
cages. They looked quite different in the gay pictures outside the
show; and like many other people, Katie felt sorry she had thus thrown
away her money. Fanny, too, never said a word about repaying her, but
only asked her if she had no more money; and when she found that she
had not, she and her companions paid very little more attention to her.
Katie was two or three years younger than Fanny and her friends, and
looked younger than she really was, owing to the simple neatness of her
dress; whilst Fanny and the other girls were attired in a good deal of
tawdry finery, and looked like anything but respectable village lasses.
After they had seen the show, they loitered about the fair, looking at
all the stalls. Bessie Thompson met an acquaintance, a young man whose
father kept the alehouse at Hazelbrook. Katie knew him to be anything
but a steady young man; she had often heard her mother speak about him.
He had a drinking and dancing tent at the fair, and asked Bessie and
her party to come in, saying he would treat them, and that they should
have a good dance afterwards.
There was a band of music playing in the tent, and people were sitting
drinking and smoking at one end. Katie shrank back with horror;
everybody had such a coarse, bold look, so different from anything
she had ever seen before. And her own knowledge of right and wrong,
and the modest way in which she had been brought up, at once warned
her not to accept the invitation. She was already beginning heartily
to repent having come to Oakfield. Her head ached with all the noise
and excitement; and she felt the truth of the saying that unlawful
pleasures can never bring true happiness. She fancied she had more
influence with Fanny than with the rest, and hastily drew her on one
side.
"Dear Fanny, don't go in there; pray, pray don't; I am sure it is not
a fit place. Let us go home at once; it must be time to do so, or we
shall be very late back."
"What nonsense, Katie! As if I was going home now, when all the fun is
just about to begin."
"What does that child say?" asked Bessie Thompson.
"She wants to go home," said Fanny, in a mocking tone.
"Why did you bring her with you at all?" asked Dan Carter, the owner of
the tent.
Bessie whispered something to him in reply.
And although Katie could not hear all that was said, she caught the
words "money," and "pay for the show." She coloured up indignantly.
"This," then, was all they had asked her to join them for. Humbled
and mortified as she felt, she yet made one other attempt to persuade
Fanny, at all events, to return with her. But all her efforts were
useless.
And Dan Carter cut them short by saying, rudely,—
"The sooner you take yourself off, if you're not going to be sociable,
the better; your room is better than your company. You'll repent of
your folly, though, before you get halfway to Hazelbrook, or I'm vastly
mistaken in those clouds yonder."
Katie scarcely heard the end of the sentence, for no sooner did she
find that it was useless trying to persuade Fanny to come with her,
than she set off at a quick pace, fearful almost that, by delaying
another moment, she should lose the power of escape. Hot and agitated,
frightened at the scenes and noise everywhere around her, she threaded
her way through the din and uproar of the fair. She had never been in
such a crowd before, and people pushed her about in an unfeeling manner.
At last, she got out of the fair, and hastening along, sat down to rest
for a moment on the stile leading into the first meadow on the way to
Hazelbrook. Then the clouds of which Dan Carter had spoken first caught
her attention. They were very black and lowering, and the distant
thunder, which the noise of the fair had prevented her from hearing
before, was distinctly heard now in the stillness of the meadow. Katie
hastened on, hoping that she might reach home before the storm burst.
She tried to pray to God to bring her safe to her mother's cottage—oh
that she had never left it!—but her thoughts were too confused, and her
brain whirled with feverish excitement.
She had reached the third field, about halfway to her home, when a
bright flash of lightning, followed by a crackling peal of thunder,
caused her to utter a scream. She had never felt afraid of a storm
before. Hitherto she had been taught to feel that the God of the
thunder is able and willing to protect His people; but now she almost
looked upon the storm as a judgment sent to punish her for her
disobedience, and scarcely knowing what she did, she ran to shelter
herself beneath some large trees in the meadow.
Had Katie thought for a moment, she would not have done so, for her
mother had always cautioned her never, on any account, to take refuge
under trees in a thunder-storm. Many persons have lost their lives from
doing so; for trees are great conductors of lightning, and attract
the electric fluid. But Katie thought of nothing. And as the thunder
pealed, and the vivid lightning flashed, and the rain descended in
perfect sheets of water, she leaned against the trunk of one of the
trees to keep herself from falling.
Then a more vivid flash than any before lighted up the sky with a lurid
glare. A peal of thunder followed, which seemed to rend the very air;
and one of the fine spreading elms near that beneath which Katie was
standing was riven from top to bottom. Katie heard and saw no more; she
had fallen senseless on the ground.
The fury of the storm had spent itself; and the mowers, who had taken
shelter in a barn not far off, were passing through the meadow on their
way to the village.
"That's a fine tree that's been struck yonder," said one; "but surely
there's some one lying under that other tree hard by."
"No one can be alive there after such a storm," exclaimed another of
the men.
And they all hastened across the meadow to the tree under which Katie
was lying.
She was stretched with her face downwards on the ground, and lay quite
motionless.
"Dead, quite dead!" said the mower who had first spoken, as he brushed
his rough hand across his face, for he had young ones of his own at
home.
They lifted her up very tenderly, those rough, rude men.
"Why, it's Widow Lawrence's daughter!" they cried, as they began to
carry her to her mother's cottage.
Half an hour afterwards, Katie was lying on her own little bed at home,
and the doctor was using all his efforts to restore animation—with what
success will be told in the next chapter.
CHAPTER IV
The Shadow of Death
ALL through the long hours of the night, a light shone in Widow
Lawrence's cottage window, telling of sad and anxious watching. And all
night long did Katie's life seem to hang upon so frail a thread that
every moment those around her expected it would snap asunder.
With great difficulty, the doctor at last restored her to
consciousness; but Katie's whole system had received so severe a shock
that he deemed it best to prepare Mrs. Lawrence for the worst, and to
express his doubts whether she would survive the night. He stayed with
her several hours, and then left full instructions with her mother,
impressing on her the necessity of keeping Katie as quiet as possible,
and avoiding the least excitement, which, in her weak state, could
scarcely prove otherwise than fatal.
Mrs. Lawrence had most fortunately returned home nearly an hour before
the mowers brought in poor Katie, so no time was lost, and the doctor
had been sent for at once. No one seemed to be able to give any
information as to how Katie came to be caught in the storm; and the one
all-absorbing fear for her child's life had diverted Mrs. Lawrence's
thoughts from the subject.
All through the lonely night the anxious, weary mother sat watching her
suffering child, and most fervently did she pray that God in His mercy
would spare her young life, and give her time and grace to repent. For
with her previous knowledge of Katie's character, she did not doubt but
that the sad accident which had befallen her was the result of some
fresh act of disobedience on her part.
Towards morning, the mother's prayer seemed answered, for Katie fell
into a gentle sleep; her features lost that look of wild excitement,
and a calm, peaceful expression took its place.
Tears of gratitude flowed down Mrs. Lawrence's pale cheeks, and seemed
a relief to her anxious mind. She arose from her seat by the bedside,
and walking to the window, she opened it. The sweet fresh morning air
seemed to revive her. Day was just breaking, and the sky was tinged all
over with a soft rosy hue.
As she stood gazing on the still and peaceful scene before her, she
heard the garden gate open, and a minute afterwards there was a gentle
tap at the cottage door. The window of Katie's room was at the side of
the house, so that Mrs. Lawrence could not see any one as they came
through the garden. She glanced at the bed; Katie was still calmly
sleeping. And opening the door as noiselessly as possible, she went
down the stairs, thinking that perhaps the doctor had sent to inquire
after his patient.
On opening the door, she quite started back on seeing Fanny Price;
her hair dishevelled, her dress in disorder, and her eyes swollen
with crying. Fanny was no favourite of Mrs. Lawrence's, but she was a
kind-hearted woman, and was touched by the girl's evident distress.
"What is the matter, Fanny? What ails you?"
"Oh, Mrs. Lawrence! Is she dead? Pray, pray tell me."
"Of whom are you speaking?"
"Of Katie; oh, tell me, is she dead?"
"She is not dead," said Mrs. Lawrence; "but—"
"Thank God for it! Oh, thank God!" And Fanny sank down upon the
door-stop, and burst into a fit of weeping.
"What can you mean, Fanny?" asked Mrs. Lawrence, whose suspicions began
to be aroused. "Was it you who—"
"Yes, yes!" cried the girl, passionately. "It was all my fault, Mrs.
Lawrence; Katie would not have gone to the fair if I had not persuaded
her. If she had died, it would have been I who killed her. We did not
come home until late last night, for the storm kept us at Oakfield, and
then father told me that the mowers had found Katie Lawrence dead in
the fields. And oh, Mrs. Lawrence, I prayed as I never prayed before,
that it might not be so; and sinful, wicked as I am, God has heard me."
"Katie is still very, very ill, Fanny; and I must not leave her any
longer. I am thankful, for your own sake as well as mine, that God has
spared my poor child's life. May it be a lesson to you which you will
never forget; a warning how far you entice others into bad ways."
Fanny Price was turning away, for the widow's voice was almost stern
in her sorrow, and the girl's eyes fell beneath the expression of the
mother's face.
"Stop, Fanny," said Mrs. Lawrence, in a kinder and gentler tone, for
the thought had entered her mind that it ill became her, whose child's
life had just been so mercifully spared, to bear malice, and to lose
the opportunity of exerting a good influence over Fanny's future
conduct.
"Stop, Fanny, let us part friends. I forgive you from my heart, and may
God give you strength and grace to profit by the sad lesson you have
received. If I can advise you at any time, come to me; that's all."
Fanny's tears flowed afresh, but they were tears of gratitude.
"May I come again and ask after Katie?"
"Come whenever you like."