The happiness of Hazelbrook
front of her cottage, and had planted it with nice healthy cabbage
plants of his own raising.
Mr. Graham used frequently to say that Granny Hale was a blessing to
the juvenile folk of Hazelbrook, as her helplessness called forth so
many little acts of self-denial on their part.
Six years had passed away since Tom Hale ran off to sea; and every one
had long since numbered him among the dead—every one but his mother.
She prayed for him night and morning, just the same as if he had been
constantly with her.
"He will come back, I am sure he will come back; it may be many years
hence, but I feel certain he'll come."
She would talk thus confidently of her son's return to Mabel, who
rarely let a day pass without a visit to Granny. And Mabel almost
learned to share in the mother's feelings of certainty, for she had
been abroad at the time of Tom's departure, and was, besides, too young
to have known many of the circumstances of the case.
At last, on a certain Thursday, as we have already heard, Granny Hale
took to her bed. She had taken cold, and had a severe rheumatic attack
in her limbs. Sunday morning came, and the boy who brought the bag of
letters to Hazelbrook Hollow, brought also one directed to Mrs. Hale at
Woodside Cottage. The postmaster had sent the letter to the "Hollow,"
knowing that there would be sure to be some one going thence to Mrs.
Hale's in the course of the day.
The letter was given to Mabel, who ran with it to her mother.
"Mamma, there is a letter for Granny Hale; I am sure it is from her
son."
Lady Tracy smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm. But when she examined
the letter, and saw the words "Ship letter" stamped on the outside, she
owned that Mabel might, after all, be right in her conjecture. With the
natural eagerness of youth, Mabel was for setting off at once to take
the letter to Woodside Cottage. But her mamma told her that in Granny
Hale's weak state, the shock, even though a pleasant one, might be
too much for her. The doctor was expected at the "Hollow" early that
morning, to see one of the servants who had met with a slight accident,
and Lady Tracy advised her daughter to wait and consult him before she
took any steps about the letter.
Dr. Allen came soon after breakfast, and was soon informed of the
arrival of the letter, and requested to advise what was best to be
done. He had passed the widow's cottage on his way, and had just looked
in to see how she was. He found her no worse; he almost thought she
was slightly better than on the preceding day, but said that very much
would depend on the nature of the letter, and that he could scarcely
give an opinion until he knew the contents. At length, it was decided
that the letter should be opened, and they would then be able to see
how far it would be advisable to tell Mrs. Hale.
Mabel watched her father's face as he read the letter, and could
scarcely contain herself until he had finished it.
"I know I am right, by papa's look," said she, in a whisper to her
mother.
She was right, and Widow Hale's prayers had been heard. Tom Hale had
led a life of great trouble since the day on which he had so wickedly
deserted his mother. The vessel in which he had sailed had been
attacked by pirates off the coast of Borneo, and he had been taken
prisoner with several others. He had been very cruelly treated; and
when, after two or three years, he managed to escape, and reach a
European settlement, a violent fever, the result of so much hardship
and privation, brought him almost to the grave.
He was in a hospital for many, many months, utterly unable to move. And
when at last he was partially restored to health, he succeeded with
difficulty in getting employment on board a ship going to Calcutta.
The cholera was raging violently in Calcutta, and Tom Hale was one
of the first of the crew to be attacked by it. But even now God's
righteous judgments were tempered with mercy, and Tom would afterwards
look back on that period of suffering as the turning-point of his whole
life. Until then, his troubles had only still more hardened his heart.
But whilst in the cholera hospital at Calcutta, he was visited by a
pious missionary, who was made God's chosen instrument to bend Tom's
proud and stubborn will, and to lead him to Christ.
Tom had confided the history of his past life to this kind minister,
and it was he who had now written to Mrs. Hale, to tell her of her
son's existence, and of the merciful change which God's Holy Spirit had
worked in his heart. Tom's health had been so weakened by the severe
illness that the medical men decided it would be utterly useless for
him to attempt any longer to follow a sailor's life. But they promised
to interest themselves to procure him a passage home as soon as he was
strong enough to undertake the voyage; and they gave him hopes that his
health would become better when once again in his native air.
Such were the contents of the letter; and from the time it had been
reaching England, Sir Herbert thought it probable that Tom might be
expected home in a fortnight, at the utmost. Dr. Allen did not seem to
think that the news would have an injurious effect on Granny Hale—that
is, if told gently; and Mabel begged so hard to be allowed to be the
bearer of the good tidings, that her parents at length consented.
There was not then time for Mabel to go to Woodside Cottage before
church, so her visit was postponed until the afternoon.
When she arrived at the cottage, Granny Hale was sitting up in bed,
and seemed much better than she had done the day before; and little
Mary Wood was reading to her out of the old family Bible. Every Sunday
Mrs. Hale made a point of having read to her the chapter containing
the account of the prodigal son. There seemed some connection in her
mind between the prodigal's return and her lost son; at all events, she
never missed asking for it to be read to her, and the tears would flow
from her poor sightless eyes. And with clasped hands, she would say,
when the parable was finished,—
"HE will be found again some day. I know he will; God is so merciful."
It was generally Mabel who read that chapter to her; but on the Sunday
in question she was unable, as we said before, to go to see Granny in
the morning, and accordingly, when she entered the widow's bedroom in
the afternoon, little Mary had just read the parable, and Granny Hale
was sitting up with clasped hands and the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Dear Miss Mabel," said she as Mabel entered the room, "I'm so glad to
see you. I was half afraid you were not coming to-day."
Granny Hale always talked of "seeing" people, and still called Mabel
her little "sunbeam."
"I am sorry I could not come before, Granny, and still more sorry that
I was not here to read your favourite chapter to you."
"Mary has read it very nicely," said Mrs. Hale; "she's a dear good
child, I don't know what I should do without her."
Mary blushed with pleasure at being praised before "Miss Mabel."
"But I had such a particular reason for wishing to read that chapter to
you myself to-day," said Mabel.
"Well, then, suppose we read it again," suggested Mrs. Hale; "I am sure
I should never be tired of hearing it, that I shouldn't."
So Mabel read the beautiful and touching history of the prodigal, in
her own simple, earnest manner. Perhaps there was a shade more of
earnestness in her tone this day than usual, for her heart was full,
and every word seemed so suited to the present occasion.
"I'm sure he will be found," murmured Granny Hale, as Mabel paused.
"I think so too, Granny."
"Do you, Miss Mabel? I'm glad to hear you say that; you didn't always
think so."
"Perhaps I have better reason for thinking so now than formerly,
Granny."
Mabel spoke very calmly and gently, but the mother's ear detected
something different in the tone of her voice. She stretched out her
hand to grasp that of Mabel.
"Better reason, better reason—you've not heard anything of him, have
you? Oh, tell me if you have, dear Miss Mabel, and do not keep me in
suspense."
And Mabel told her all, and read her the letter over and over again,
and then left her, overpowered with joy and gratitude, and repeating to
herself,—
"My son, my dear son! 'He was dead, and is alive again; he was lost,
and is found.'"
Granny Hale got better rapidly. That blessed letter, she said, had done
her more good than all the medicine in the world. Before the end of the
week, she was able to be downstairs again, and as the probable time for
her son's arrival drew nearer, she would sit at her cottage door for
hours together, listening to catch the sound of strange footsteps.
It was about three weeks after the receipt of the letter from Calcutta,
that, one afternoon, a sunburnt man, carrying over his shoulder a
bundle tied to a stick, sat resting himself on a stile not very far
from Hazelbrook Hollow. He was about twenty years of age, and appeared
to be in delicate health, for he put down his bundle with a weary look.
We need not tell the reader that it was Tom Hale.
Many mingled thoughts, some of them very sad ones too, seemed to crowd
his mind as he sat on the stile. His wasted youth, his broken-down
health, his forsaken parent,—yes, they were bitter thoughts; and for a
time the wanderer seemed almost overpowered by them. Then a ray of hope
dawned upon his troubled soul. It might not yet be too late to make up,
in some slight degree, to his poor mother for all the sorrow he had
caused her.
If she were still alive, he—but the doubt itself was terrible; and
falling on his knees, he prayed that God would, in His mercy, spare him
this last great grief, and would bless his efforts, and give him grace
to be a good son for the future. He arose from his knees comforted;
but unable to bear the uncertainty as to whether his mother were alive
or dead, he called to some labouring men who were going along the road
at some little distance, and asked them if he was far from Hazelbrook
Hollow.
"You're only a short distance, master," said they; "keep straight
across the fields yonder; you can't miss your way. You'll pass a
cottage close to a wood."
Tom Hale knew that cottage well.
"I know my way then, if I am to pass that cottage. Can you tell me who
lives there now?"
"Old Granny Hale."
What joy it was to Tom to hear his mother's name! She was alive, then.
"She still lives there, then?"
"Yes; Sir Herbert wouldn't turn her away, poor thing, when she became
blind."
"Blind! Is Mrs. Hale blind?"
"You must be a stranger in these parts not to know that. She has been
blind ever since the fever she had when that good-for-nothing son of
hers ran away, years ago."
The men passed on, and Tom Hale lifted his bundle, and took the
well-known path across the fields. When he reached the last field
before he came to his mother's cottage, his agitation became so great
that he quickened his pace almost to a run.
Granny Hale was sitting at her door in the warm afternoon sunshine. Her
knitting was on her lap, but her thoughts were far away, and her work
had been forgotten.
Suddenly a hasty step was heard approaching.
Her cheeks became very pale, as half rising from her chair, she leaned
forward to catch the sound more distinctly.
The garden gate opened, and the same step, now subdued, came gently up
the path. In another instant, a pair of manly arms were thrown around
her, and the fond mother and her repentant son had met to part no more
on earth.
CHAPTER VII
Safe at Home
TOM HALE'S health improved greatly under the influence of his native
air. Dr. Allen told him he must never expect to be a very robust man,
but that there was nothing to prevent him from becoming a useful
farm labourer and that outdoor exercise would be the best possible