XV.

HEIR TO SOMETHING BETTER.

[Illustration]

"WELL, he's a beauty, he is!" cried Betsy Bonser. "But fine feathers make fine birds, and his mother dresses him up as if he were Prince of Wales at least."

"Who is it, neighbour?" asked the feeble voice of Mary Blane, a sick woman who was lying in bed in the little cottage out of the window of which Betsy Bonser was looking as she spoke.

"Why, it's Squire Knight's little boy, to be sure—hat, feather, and all—sitting in his little carriage, with his dog on his knee. How unequal things are in this world! There were you with your dozen children, scarce able to put shoes on their feet, or bread in their mouths, and a thirteenth baby must come—" she glanced at a little creature asleep in its cradle—"just to be a burden and a trouble!"

[Illustration: THE YOUNG SQUIRE.]

"He's welcome—bless him!" whispered the mother.

"Welcome! Well, mothers have an odd way of taking these things," said Betsy. "I know the squire's baby was welcome, for he was heir to ten thousand a year!"

"And I hope that my baby is heir to something better," said Mary with a gentle smile. "If he be God's child, he'll have an inheritance one day in heaven!"

"Well," began Betsy—but she started with surprise, for she saw that the squire's lady now stood in the cottage!

Mrs. Knight had knocked so gently, and Betsy had talked so loudly, that the knock had not been heard, nor the soft step of the lady as she entered the poor woman's cottage.

"Oh! Beg your pardon, ma'am, I didn't see you," cried Betsy, dropping half-a-dozen courtesies.

Mrs. Knight had brought many nice things for the sick mother, and some little pieces of dress for Mary's baby, which her own boy had long outgrown. The lady took, I say, many things to the cottage; she took one thing away with her—the remembrance of the poor woman's words, which she had chanced to overhear: "I hope that my baby is heir to something better."

When Mrs. Knight returned to her boy, whom she had left outside with his nurse, she thought again and again of what Mary Blane had said.

"Ah!" reflected the lady, "my boy will have everything that money can give him, but, after all, the 'best' things are as free to the poor as to the rich. My child would be poor indeed if he were not heir to something better."

When a few months had passed away, the squire's little son fell ill. The groom mounted a horse and rode off at full speed for a doctor; another was sent for from London; everything was procured that could possibly help to save the child from dying. But if God wills to take a little lamb to His fold above, doctors and medicine and mother's fond care cannot keep him on earth. The squire's little darling was taken early to heaven.

Then people said, "What a grievous thing it was that the heir of such an estate should die!"

If one of Mary Blane's thirteen children had been taken, the world would have thought less about it, though every one was as dear to her as Victor Knight had been to his mother. And friends wondered how poor Mrs. Knight could bear her grief so meekly, and never murmur when called to part with the child whom she loved so well. It was the thought of her little one's happiness that soothed her sorrowing heart; she looked round on the splendid dwelling that might one day have been her son's, and repeated the poor woman's words, "My baby is heir to something better."

After some time, God comforted the poor lady by giving her another child. There were great rejoicings in the squire's house when a second heir was born; bonfires were lighted, tenants were feasted, and an ox was roasted whole. Mrs. Knight was again a happy and thankful mother. But she never forgot her first little treasure, whose picture with his dog on his knee, hung just opposite to the seat in her own quiet room where the lady used often to read the Bible. And when in her reading she came to an account of "an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven," she would lift up her tearful eyes to the picture, and with a grateful heart would say, "Yes, earth's wealth and honours must pass away; thank God, through Christ, my baby was heir to something better!"