CHAPTER VII

THE BROKEN VASE

TO free himself from the accusations of conscience, Robin determined to keep out of cook's way for a few days. But resolutions made in human strength are but as grass: "The sun is no sooner risen with a burning heat, but it withereth the grass, and the flower thereof falleth, and the grace of the fashion of it perisheth."

Repentance without a root will only endure for a while; and so the poor boy found.

Cook soon made an opportunity, and silenced his well-meant excuses by the most plausible reasoning, as well as by unlimited promises of dainty bits for himself and Corrie.

Again and again the covered basket was placed in readiness for removal from its place of concealment, and frequent practice made Robin very expert in eluding Jonathan's sharp eyes; so much so that the old man began to think his suspicions were groundless as far as the boy was concerned, especially as he had seldom now reason to find fault with his work.

Robin often noticed the clink of glass bottles as he was carrying back the basket to Oaklands, but as the cover was always securely tied down with cord, he did not feel tempted to look inside. It was not until long afterwards that he connected this sound with the woman's frequently excited manner, which at times quite frightened him. Yet the poor lad felt himself enthralled in a hard bondage. Cook had at first made him her slave, and now kept him so chiefly through well-timed flattery. So, though he often thought of rebelling, Robin still continued to obey her secret orders, having little reward beyond that of seeing his little sister's face brighten up when he produced a nice piece of cake or pudding for her. This pleasure could be enjoyed in some cool green spot beyond the town, where Robin would take her in her little carriage of an evening when his day's work was over. Yet the boy was miserable, and the prattle of his innocent sister made him more so.

"Why should I be afraid of cook?" he reasoned with himself. "I will tell old Jonathan all about it, and he will help me."

This sage plan would have been put into execution, if something had not happened the following day which tightened yet more closely the chains that bound him. Robin had put on the fetters when he first listened to the tempter's voice.

Some friends were invited to dine at Oaklands, and Jonathan had begged, as a special favour, to be allowed to arrange the flowers for the centre of the table. Robin had carried in the basket, and now stood beside the old man in the china pantry, watching him select the choicest blossoms for the handsome china vase placed ready to receive them.

The lovely bouquet was soon complete, and Jonathan went off again to the garden. Robin lingered behind for a few minutes, gazing with delight on the pretty cups and plates and glittering glass, all so neatly arranged upon the shelves. It was seldom he had an excuse for coming farther into the house than the kitchen. Alas! His curiosity cost him dear, for, turning round suddenly, his arm came in contact with the lovely vase, knocking it against an awkwardly projecting corner of a cupboard. One of the handles snapped off and fell to the ground. The boy stood aghast for one moment; then, snatching up the fragment, flew with it to the kitchen.

"Oh, cook, help me!" he cried. "What shall I do? Look what has happened! I didn't mean to break it; it just chipped off as I turned round. Please don't tell master or mistress: I might lose my place if they heard of it!"

"Yes, that you would," cried the cunning woman triumphantly, with a sharp look in her eyes, though she well knew that an accident such as Robin had just met with would not be considered in the light of a crime, but would only elicit a sorrowful regret and a request to be more careful in future from the gentle mistress of Oaklands. But at the present moment it suited her purpose to terrify the lad with the fear of consequences; so, raising both her hands with a deprecating gesture, she continued, "Well! You have got yourself into a fine scrape; but as you are a good lad, and always do what I ask you, I will be a friend in need. I know where the housekeeper puts the diamond cement; the handle shall be mended so that no one shall know it was ever broken; it will never show."

"Oh, thank you!" said Robin, in the relief of the moment feeling grateful enough to be always her willing slave. "Can I do anything for you to-day?"

"No, not to-day, but to-morrow perhaps."

And Robin went out feeling that now he was completely in her power. And so it proved. From that day his excuses were of no avail. The vase had been so well mended that no one knew of the breakage except cook; and she had only to threaten a disclosure of the fact if there was the least hesitation in the carrying out of her commands.

The poor boy found that the way of transgressors is hard, and that one false step leads to many more. He was very miserable now, though keeping up an outward appearance of good by being extra diligent at his work. Fear of man was the one thing that spoiled Robin's character; he lacked the courage to say no, and present a bold front to the enemy. He had not yet learnt how "to add to his faith virtue," that fearless valour for the truth without which no Christian soldier can fight the good fight, and as a conqueror obtain the victory over the world, the flesh, and the devil.

Some weeks after the accident in the china pantry, Clarice sat in the drawing room practising at the piano. It was a hot day in July, and the French windows were open down to the ground. The lazy hum of bees, and the sweet breath of flowers, and the sunshine outside made the child feel idle. A sudden fancy impelled her to leave her music and flit out through the open window.

She presently returned with some roses off a bush she was allowed to gather from. Looking about she perceived the china vase in the centre of the table, and proceeded to turn out some of the fading flowers, and replace them with those she had brought in. This was a disobedient act, for she knew well that neither she nor any of the children were allowed to touch that vase. However, she did not think of this until too late, so engrossed was she in her self-imposed task.

The withered rose leaves fell in a shower on the crimson cloth, and in one instant the child resolved to lift the vase to a side table, and gather up the fallen leaves to throw them away. Poor Clarice! The handle that had been so cleverly mended was the first she took hold of, and with a smash the costly china ornament fell upon the table, while the water streamed among the scattered flowers down to the carpet.

Clarice uttered a loud scream, which quickly brought her mother to the room, who stood in consternation at seeing the wreck before her.

"Oh, mother!" sobbed Clarice. "Indeed I didn't do it; it was not my fault. I don't know how it happened. I was lifting it so carefully."

"Clarice dear, you know quite well you are never allowed to touch anything in the drawing room. Your disobedience was the cause of this accident; and my favourite vase cannot be replaced. I am grieved that my little girl was tempted to do what she knew was wrong. You wasted your time instead of practising your music. How true it is that:

"Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do."

"But I did not break it, mother; it broke by itself!" pleaded the child in a tone of the deepest distress.

"Hush! Clarice darling. Do not say what is untrue. My beloved child must be careful to keep to the exact truth, come what may. I am not angry with you for breaking the vase, because an accident may happen sometimes even to the most careful. Your fault lies in the disobedient act. Go away upstairs now by yourself, and think about it quietly. By and by you will tell me you are sorry. I shall not be able to take you out driving with me this afternoon, as I intended."

Clarice did not wait to hear any more, but ran off to the night nursery, to fling herself on her bed and have her cry out there.

"It is very unfair!" she sobbed, pushing back the hair from her flushed face. "Mamma won't believe me. Oh, dear! What shall I do? Why did I look at those roses?"

"You were disobedient," suggested Conscience, that faithful monitor, as Clarice began to feel the force of her mother's words. Yet she did not wish to give up the idea that she had been unjustly condemned. It was pride alone that prevented her going at once to her mother's room to confess her fault.

The dinner hour arrived, and Clarice took her place in silence with the other children. Still there was the same sulky tear-stained face, though her mother looked with such loving sadness at her naughty child.

Clarice watched her go upstairs to get ready for the afternoon drive, and longed, in spite of herself, to run and say just the little word that would put it all right again. But no, she lingered and hesitated until it was too late; and from the schoolroom window downstairs she watched the carriage drive away, with Milly seated beside mamma. With her eyes full of tears, Clarice sat down to prepare her lessons for the morrow.

While so doing she heard steps on the gravel path, and knew old Jonathan was at hand. He had heard about the accident from the servants, and felt very grieved that his dear little Miss Clarice should be in trouble. She was so seldom naughty that it was a great puzzle to him how such a thing could have happened. The child gave one look, to make quite sure it was her dear old friend, and then held out both hands towards him.

"I have been naughty, Jonathan," said the honest little offender; "but it was not quite my fault, though nobody believes me."

Then followed a faithful narration of facts, exactly as they had occurred.

"Well, my dear little lady," replied the gardener, twisting the rose off the empty watering-pot he held in his hand; "old Jonathan is but a poor comforter; yet he always likes to look for the rainbow in a shower. Dry up the tears, and let us see what can be done. God knows all about everything, and that is why it is such a comfort to go and tell Him. There! There! Don't cry any more," added the affectionate old man, taking up a corner of the child's white pinafore to wipe away the blinding tears, which flowed all the faster for this loving sympathy.

"Mamma loves her little girl more than a thousand flower vases. She is not angry with you for breaking it, my love. Bless her dear, kind, gentle heart, she is the last to punish for that sort of thing. It was only because you did not mind your music, my dear, and what she told you about keeping from touching the things in the drawing room.

"My mother used to tell me when I was a little chap that I had no eyes in my fingers; and 'twould be a good thing if all children remembered that wholesome lesson. It would save them from many a mishap. Now, when mamma comes back, let her find her little girl with a sunny face and lessons all ready for to-morrow. Why, some day perhaps you will be able to buy her another vase; that will be something for you to save up your pennies for. Crying will not mend the broken pieces. When we have done a naughty thing, the best way is to be very sorry for it, and then turn over a new leaf and to begin again quite fresh."

As Clarice began to see the force of this sound reasoning, a happy light broke over her face, and the sobbing ceased.

"Oh, Jonathan!" she whispered. "You always make me want to be good."

"It is not me, dear child; it is not me! It is God's Holy Spirit, which is promised to all who ask for it. This is the candle of the Lord; and when it lights up our dark hearts, we see our faults as God would have us see them, and we are so sorry. Then He makes us good again, and the darkness all passes away, and we are happy once more. O Lord, help Thy dear lamb!" murmured the aged man, looking up into the blue sky as he moved away to continue his work.

Now Robin happened to be weeding a path close by, and consequently overheard most of this conversation. Every word had pricked him like a sharp thorn, for he knew well that if it had not been for his concealed transgression, Clarice's trouble would not have been so great.

Yet he dared not confess the truth. A guilty feeling made him tremble and turn pale as he passed that window and caught sight of the tear-stained face within. He could watch the quickly moving lips, as Clarice set herself resolutely to master her lessons; yet, though it touched him and made his heart sore, he had not the moral courage to say the word that would free her from much of the blame. He dared not face the consequences involved in such a course of action, and therefore still determined to keep his unhappy secret.

That night the silver moonlight shone down alike into hall and cottage window. Dear little Clarice knelt by her white bed, with her hands clasped and a happy smile upon her face as she looked up into the starry sky. She was thanking God for making her good again. The burden had been lifted off her heart by her mother's kiss of forgiveness, and "the peace which passeth all understanding" left its seal upon her brow as she fell asleep.

Not so Robin: he looked out of his bed into the moonlight, and turned away from it quickly with his face towards the wall. The brilliant beam seemed too pure for his eyes to-night, and he could only think of the words his mother had been just reading aloud from her Bible: "'The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!'" (Matt. vi. 22, 23).