CHAPTER VI.

THE LOST CHILD.

"Is there in God's world so drear a place Where the loud bitter cry is raised in vain— Where tears of penance come too late for grace, As on the uprooted flower the genial rain?"

OCTOBER was drawing to a close. The bright-tinted leaves were falling with every gust of wind; but the air was pleasant, and Priscilla Warner had taken her book into the garden to enjoy it in quiet, nominally taking charge of little Claude, who was amusing himself gathering the leaves into heaps.

Baby and nurse had come out also; and for a while even her loved book was put aside whilst Prissy took her little sister in her arms and carried her up and down. Truly baby Ruth might be called her sister's guardian angel; for the love which had sprung up in her heart to the little one, who, like herself, lacked a mother's love and care, was beautiful to see, and that love was, under God, the means of preventing the girl's heart from turning cold and hard.

The almost passionate love she gave her father seemed thrown back on her to smoulder only more deeply within her. But with little Ruth it was different. The baby returned her affection, and clung lovingly to her sister, following her with her eyes, and nestling confidingly in her arms as she would have done in those of her mother. And however busy Prissy might be, one sight of those baby arms extended to her was enough to make her stop any occupation in order to take her into her arms.

And even when her father let this motherless babe get a place on his knee, and apparently in his heart, which Priscilla had never got, she stifled her rising feeling of jealousy, and became happy in seeing that Ruth, though "only a girl," was gaining a warm place in her father's affection.

Poor Prissy! Once or twice when she saw the babe seated on her father's knee, where she never remembered to have sat, her eyes would fill with tears; and one day she amazed the doctor by saying, "Happy Ruth! I wonder what it feels like to sit on your knee, father."

He pushed the spectacles he wore up on his brow, and looked at her for a moment, then said, "What do you mean, my daughter? Did you never sit there? Ah! true. I remember I did not care much for babies when you were little. But then you had a mother's knee to sit on, and my wee Ruth has none. Don't grudge her mine, Priscilla."

And she did not. And now on the October day we are writing of, as she walked up and down she was thanking God for the blessing of possessing the love of her little sister.

Presently nurse came to take the child; and Prissy resumed her book, and became so engrossed in it that she forgot everything around her—how time was passing, where she was, and even the fact of little Claude's existence. At last a voice roused her:

"Priscilla, are you never coming in to luncheon? And where is Claude? Nurse is vexed he has remained so long out of doors. He should have been ready for his dinner now."

The speaker was Miss Vernon, and Prissy sprang to her feet in dismay.

"Oh, I am sorry, Miss Vernon," she said; "but I never thought it was so late.—Claude! Claude!" she called, running down the garden path. "Where are you, child?"

But no reply came, and both she and Miss Vernon sought in every corner of the garden in vain; no Claude was to be found.

Could he have gone into the house? No. Nurse left baby and joined in the search; but the child was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly Priscilla observed that a back gate which was seldom used, and which led from the garden to the common, was open, and she at once suggested that Claude might have slipped through and got out on the common. True, the children were forbidden to go there alone; but Claude was young, and might have forgotten that.

The common was searched in all directions, but with no success; and with an unspeakable pang of agony, Prissy remembered that not far-off there was a deep pond. She feared to speak of it. Oh, if only Austin were home; if only she could keep her father from knowing. Surely in a little, the child would be found; he could not have wandered far. Poor little Claude! How could she, oh, how could she have neglected him so? And why did Harry Lascelles' words about the work which angels might envy come into her memory now?

Just then, to Miss Vernon's great relief and to Prissy's dismay, Dr. Warner entered the garden and demanded what was the matter.

"Claude amissing? What do you mean?" he said. "Who had charge of him?"

"Priscilla," was the answer.

"What was she doing to allow a child like that to go off by himself?"

"She was studying," replied Miss Vernon.

"Studying? Nonsense! What could she be studying?—Bring the book to me, Priscilla," he continued; then lingering a moment to look at the name, and muttering, "Astronomy? Absurd! What can a girl know or care about that?" he quickly pocketed the cherished volume, and without vouchsafing a word to his daughter strode off in search of the child.

But all searching proved useless. And during those long hours of suspense, the voice of conscience, which Prissy had stifled so long, made itself be heard, and her eyes were at last opened to see her error. Oh, how she had been neglecting her God-given work for her own selfish ends and ambitious purposes!

At four o'clock, Lewis and Austin returned from school, and were startled by the troubled faces that met them. Dr. Warner was like a man possessed, walking up and down unable to decide what measures to take next. It was Austin who suggested, though in a low tone in case the words should reach his sister's ears, to drag the pond.

"God help us!" said the father. "Are you afraid of that? Is it possible? Shameful neglect! It is unpardonable in Priscilla."

"Stop, father," said Austin; "don't speak hastily to poor Prissy. Look at her; she is heart-broken."

At that moment, the gate which led into the common was opened wider, and André M'Ivor entered, bearing in his arms the motionless figure of little Claude.

With a cry, half of despair, half of thankfulness, Prissy darted to him and took the child in her arms.

"O Claude, darling Claude, speak! Just one word!—He is not dead! Oh, say he is not dead!"

"No, Miss Warner," said the lad in a calm, firm voice, "he is not dead, only faint from the effects of a bad fall; and I think he has dislocated his ankle. See, he is looking up. Let me carry him into the house."

But Dr. Warner strode up, his face white and stern.

"Thank God, and you also, M'Ivor," he said.

Then putting Priscilla determinedly aside, he carried the child home himself.

"Get Dr. la Rue instantly."

And allowing no one into the room save nurse and Miss Vernon, he sat down to watch till the doctor arrived.

In vain Priscilla sought admittance. As yet her father's wrath against her was too great to permit him even to look at her.

But when the doctor arrived, the girl forced her way into the room and heard his opinion.

Yes; Claude would live, he believed. He had sustained no serious injury; but a bone in the ankle was broken, and it would probably be weeks ere he would be able to walk. He must have perfect quiet now, and get the person he liked best to be with him.

"I suppose that will be his sister," said the doctor, turning kindly to Priscilla.

But the child, who was conscious now, shook his head and said—

"No, not Prissy. Prissy always say, 'Go 'way, I'se busy.'"

Poor Priscilla! For one moment she caught her father's eye fixed on her, now not so much in anger as in disappointment and grief. And without saying a word, she went to her own room and threw herself on her bed in an agony of tears. But they were more tears of shame than of anything else; and her cry was:

"Mother! mother! I've gone all wrong since you left me, and poor Claude's accident is my fault—mine only."

I think when the angels heard that cry they were glad. The first step to betterness is, they know, when a soul acknowledges it has sinned. And ere Prissy went to bed that night, after kissing Claude, she sat a while and thought about the kingdom of God and the work she had to do. Then the conviction flashed on her mind that she herself had never yet taken the first step into that kingdom of which it is written:

"Unless ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter therein."