CHAPTER V.

THE THAW.

THE snow still lay deep all over the country next day, but it was hard and dry, so the boys went to school as usual. When they assembled in the evening for supper, old Jasper was not in his usual place; he had not left his room all day. Lucy seemed frightened about him, but Mrs. Marlowe said he did not complain of being weaker than usual, and that as the cold was so piercing, perhaps he was better in bed. But the boys were wild to hear the end of the story, and Hugh actually worked himself into what his family called "one of his states" about it.

However, before supper was quite over, Jasper came in and took his usual seat by the fire. They were soon all ready to hear; but young Harry had a question to ask first.

"Father," said he, "we want to know how it happened that Harry Franks was in any danger of being hanged? Because he was so young, and it was only stealing, not murder. Killing the poor dog could not be called murder."

"I think, my boy, that the laws have been altered since those days."

"You are right," said Jasper; "in those old times the laws were fearfully severe—very cruel. Only a year before this happened, a young woman, very little older than Harry, was hanged at T— for stealing five shillings' worth of ribbon from a shop counter. She had a baby in her arms. I saw her tried. I wonder what became of the baby. Harry might have been spared on account of his youth and good character; but it would depend very much on the character of the judge that was to try him. I remember one of the judges who used to come to T— was called the 'hanging judge;' but I don't know whether he was the one who would have tried Harry or not.

"Now I am going to tell you how he was saved—how the very snow that I thought had covered my sin for ever, bore witness to my guilt and his innocence. 'Twas Katie told me afterwards.

"I've told you before that the snow was not like this snow; it never was very deep, and it would thaw one hour and freeze the next, and so on. It was seldom the same for long, except for about a fortnight at this very time; the longest spell of frost they had had kept the ground like iron. Poor Harry was in T— jail all the time; it may have been three weeks, and I knew the assizes were coming very near. He was quite calm and quiet; he was one of the bravest creatures, boy and man, that ever I knew. It's easy to be brave when one is excited; but to sit in a prison-room day after day watching death drawing near—'such' a death, too! Yet I heard afterwards he was quite quiet, and never made any complaint.

"But Katie was most miserable. She could not bear to be still a moment. And her father was as bad. He had hardly sent Harry off to jail before he'd have given all he possessed to undo his work; for though he believed Harry to be guilty, he could not bear to think what might be the end of it. Katie at last saw how it was with him, and though he was very stern with her, she bore it patiently, and was generally with him, for she was frightened about him.

"One morning she heard him get up very early—it was only just daylight. She got up too, dressed quickly, and followed him down to this room. She found him sitting by the ashes of the last night's fire, looking very grey and ill, and with something in his face that startled her, she did not know why. She said—

"'Father, 'tis too cold for you to be up; you will have the pains worse than ever. I'll light the fire, though—that will be the best way.'

"She soon had it blazing; she had the handiest ways, and could do anything, if she only cared to try. He sat silent while she worked; but when she stopped blowing with the bellows and looked at him again, she was more frightened than ever at the look on his face.

"'Father, dear father,' she cried, 'is there anything new? Oh, why do you look like that? Do speak to me, and tell me what ails you. You look so much more unhappy than even yesterday.'

"'Yes,' he said, 'and so I am, Katie. Yesterday I was mad, I think; and when one is mad one does not feel so much. But I've come to myself now. And I see now that Harry never did this thing. It's fairly impossible; he was always straightforward and true, always kind to every beast about the place; he couldn't have changed so much all in a moment. It's hard to understand. I'm all at sea as to who did it; but I feel in my heart that it was not Harry.'

"Poor Katie! She gave a great cry of joy, and ran into his arms.

"'Oh, father, thank God for this! It was well to get up early. Now we'll go, you and me, and bring poor Harry home. I'll get you some breakfast, and then we'll go.'

"'My poor little maid!' he said, laying his hand on her head. 'If I could do that, Katie, do you think I should look so sad? No; he said himself that I would be sorry when it was too late, and I would not mind him. He must be tried now; and the evidence is all against him. I love that lad next to you, Katie; and I've murdered him!'

"It took some time to make Katie understand that her father could not save Harry by declaring that he was convinced of his innocence; but when she did understand, she said—

"'Don't fret so dreadfully, father. God will save Harry, though you cannot. I am not afraid for Harry—not much.'

"And she turned away that he might not see her crying. She went over and opened the shutters, just for something to do; but he heard a sob or two, and, getting up, he came after her to the window, took her in his arms and kissed her; and he stood there with her for some little time, both of them crying so that they could see nothing.

"Presently Hugh Marlowe turned away and said, with a groan—

"'Katie, I think you and I will hate the sight of snow as long as we live.'

"And as he spoke, he cleared the tears out of his eyes and looked down at the narrow path there, under the window.

"Now, it had thawed during the early part of that night, and now it was freezing again; and a wonderful thing had happened. All the snow that had fallen since that dreadful night when Harper and I robbed Mr. Marlowe had melted clean away, and the footsteps upon the snow that had been there before had come out as clear as if they had been printed there only the day before. Hugh Marlowe gazed at them for a moment without taking it in. I mean, he did not understand the story that lay written before him. But suddenly he gave a shout.

"'Look there, Katie! Look there!' he cried.

"'Why, that is Jasper's step!' said she. 'He must have come back.'

"'No, that print was not made last night; and see, there's my mark too, in my slippers. Yes; I stopped under this window—I remember that well.'

"He walked quickly over to the end window and opened the shutters.

"'See, a strange man's step, and Jasper's; then Jasper went back to the door, and no doubt opened the window, and the man got in. And the stranger jumped out again; I see the prints. Oh, Katie, don't stop to question me! This may mean life and safety for Harry. Don't you see, child, 'twas 'Jasper'—Jasper, who robbed me—not alone, though. Run, run! Call James and Humphrey. We must have witnesses; and when the sun gets at it, it will all melt; it's thawing even now.'

"Katie only half understood, but she lost no time; she flew to the back door and called up the men, who slept over the stable. Then the whole place was carefully examined, and the snow told the whole story. *

"There were my steps—not to be mistaken; there were Harper's, both coming and going, from a corner of the rick-yard where he had hidden himself after parting with me in the lane. There were poor Harry's footprints, going straight down to the gate, and back again—nay, they traced the few steps he made round the porch, to where the ivy gave him a firmer hold to climb up. They intended to trace him across the fields to the Long Pasture, but before they could do so, the whole had vanished away—the sun came out warm and bright, and very soon the snow was utterly gone. If Hugh Marlowe had stayed in bed until his usual time that day, my story might have been a much more sorrowful one. But God was merciful to him—and even to me—and he was making the best of his way to T—, through the mud and water, to see Harry's lawyer, and find out what ought to be done, his heart so full of thanks and praise that, as he said afterwards, he hardly knew where he was."

* I wish to state that the incident of the snow concealing for a time, and then by a partial thaw laying bare again, the footsteps of one who had passed the place three weeks before the thaw, is true.—A. LYSTER.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" cried the three boys, quite unable to restrain themselves any longer; and Jem and Polly must needs cheer too, though they had very little notion why.

When quiet was restored, Hugh looked up in old Jasper's face and said—

"I'm sorry 'twasn't you that told. I'm sure you would have. I'm sorry for you, Uncle Jasper."

Jasper covered his face with his withered hands for a moment.

"Hugh," he said, "I couldn't have told. No—not if Harry had been tried, condemned, and hanged for my crime—though I might have had that awful load to bear all my life, I couldn't have said one word to save him. For I was lying in a raging fever, in a hospital in London. I had made my way to London, I don't know how. I remember nothing of it, and I do truly think I was not in my right mind. I got better after a long time—better in body, but my mind was all astray. I remembered nothing—I knew nothing. I suppose I was able to answer when spoken to, for they let me leave the hospital when I was cured of my fever; but I know nothing of what I did, or where I went, for a long time. I suppose I begged—but I don't remember anything clearly.

"Somehow—by no design of my own—I wandered back to the place which had been my home so long, and Harry found me hiding about in the fields. Ay, and brought me in, and persuaded Hugh Marlowe to have pity on me, saying 'twas plain I had not been in my right mind when I did it. They paid a doctor in Exeter to keep me for a time, finding it was my only chance of recovery, and in a couple of years I was myself again. Then Harry brought me here: he persuaded Mr. Marlowe to forgive me—ah, what Harry did for me, no words of mine can tell! He taught me how to repent; he told me of the full and free forgiveness that the Lord Jesus had won for me; and I could believe in it, seeing how he forgave me himself. He was so tender over me that, when his boy was growing up, he kept the knowledge of this story from him, because I shrank from the notion of his knowing it. And so, by never being talked of, it came to be forgotten; my life has been so long, so very long! That, except myself, there is no one alive now who could tell how it happened.

"But I see now that I should have been a better man and a happier—though I have been far happier than I deserved—if I had never cloaked my sin—never let you all think that my life had been fair and spotless, like my dear Harry's. Now I have told all, as well as I can remember it. The snow seemed to bring it all back. Now I have nothing hidden—it may thaw as soon as it likes. The sooner the better, for I'm very old and very tired, and Harry and Katie must be wondering why I'm so long here. I have wondered why myself, sometimes; but I know now.

"And boys—Lucy—all of you, when you think of my sin, think, too, that I loved you very much. I don't ask you to think well of me—that you cannot do. But say, 'He loved us dearly—God has forgiven him, so we'll forgive him too.'"

The boys, to their own great astonishment, were crying; as for Lucy, she had cried nearly all that evening. Mrs. Marlowe kept her face turned away, and the master got up abruptly and left the room.

When he returned, he found the children all crowding round old Jasper: Harry with his hand laid on the old man's shoulder, Hugh holding his hand, Frank kneeling beside him. Jasper seemed soothed and comforted, but he looked up and said—

"The thaw has come, Harry, hasn't it?"

"Well, you are right, sir," said the master somewhat unwillingly; "it is thawing fast."

"Well, I'll go to bed. Good night all—good-bye, and God bless you, every one!"

He paused at the door as he blessed them, raising his hand solemnly, and looking at them long and lovingly.

All night long the thaw continued. In the morning the world was no longer shrouded in dazzling white, only here and there a patch lingered. But there was no shouting or noisy rejoicing at Marlowe Hay, for old Jasper was passing away with the snow.

When Mrs. Marlowe went to his room that morning, he was awake, and quite himself; but he said he felt weak, and would lie quiet.

The boys had been out very early, and had gone to visit their house in the rick-yard. The roof was already gone, the rough branches they had used for rafters showing bare and black, thoroughly soaked by the melting snow. But what interested them far more than the condition of the roof was that various footsteps which had been completely covered had reappeared—not in a very sharp and perfect condition, for the thaw was a very rapid one—but still there were the footsteps, even the patch on Frank's shoe coming out in one or two places, where the snow had been beaten down hard. The boys rushed off to the house to summon Lucy to behold this marvel; but Lucy was sitting in the parlour, crying bitterly.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried. "Father has gone for the doctor. Uncle Jasper has gone asleep, and mother says he will never wake any more."

Mrs. Marlowe was right. Old Jasper slept—if this were really sleep—for some hours, then gently ceased to breathe.

"Oh, I wish—I wish he might have stayed with us a little while," cried Hugh passionately, "that we might have showed him that we loved him, even though he 'had' done wrong."

"He knew that last night," said Harry; "and now he is with his own old friends—Hugh Marlowe, and Harry, and Katie. Oh, Hugh, it is much happier for him. Where they are, is his real home."

"Yes, my boy," said Mrs. Marlowe, drying her eyes. "'In My Father's house,' the Saviour said, 'there are many mansions; I go to prepare a place for you;' and we are prepared here on earth for the place prepared for us in heaven. It was no easy task for Jasper to lay bare before us all the sin of his youth; but it was, as he said, the laying down, once for all, of pride: and then he was ready. Oh, children dear! Whether our lives are to be long, like his, or short, like theirs who were young with him so long ago, God grant that every one of us may be prepared by God's hand for our place in one of His many mansions!"

THE END.

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