One Snowy Night Part 31

"I'll be bound they did! But what had you done?"

"My brother and some others had preached the Gospel of Christ in the villages round, and further away."

"What mean you by that, now?"

"The good news that men are sinners, and that Jesus died for sinners."

"Ah! I used to know all about that once. But now--He's forgotten me."

"No, never, never, Mother Haldane! It is thou who hast forgotten Him.

He sent me to thee to-night to tell thee so."

"Gently now, my dear! Keep still. Don't you use up your bit of strength for a worthless old woman, no good to any body. There ain't n.o.body in the world as cares for me, child. No, there ain't n.o.body!"

"Mother Haldane, I think Christ cared for you on His cross; and He cares for you now in Heaven. He wanted somebody to come and tell you so; and n.o.body did, so he drove me here. You'll let me tell you all about it, won't you?"

"Softly, my dear--you'll harm yourself! Ay, you shall tell me any thing you will, my snow-bird, when you're fit to do it; but you must rest a while first."

There was no sleep that night for Mother Haldane. All the long winter night she sat beside Ermine, feeding her at short intervals, laying her herb poultices on the poor brow, covering up the chilled body from which it seemed as if the s.h.i.+vering would never depart. More and more silent grew the old woman as time went on, only now and then muttering a compa.s.sionate exclamation as she saw more clearly all the ill that had been done. She kept up the fire all night, and made a straw bed, as she had promised, behind the screen, where the invalid would be sheltered from the draught, and yet warm, the fire being just on the other side of the screen. To this safe refuge Ermine was able to drag herself when the morning broke.

"You'll be a fine cure, dearie!" said the old woman, looking on her with satisfaction. "You'll run like a hare yet, and be as rosy as Robin-run-by-the-hedge."

"I wonder why I am saved," said Ermine in a low voice. "I suppose all the rest are with G.o.d now. I thought I should have been there too by this time. Perhaps He has some work for me to do:--it may be that He has chosen you, and I am to tell you of His goodness and mercy."

"You shall tell any thing you want, dearie. You're just like a bright angel to old Mother Haldane. I'm nigh tired of seeing frightened faces.

It's good to have one face that'll look at you quiet and kind; and n.o.body never did that these forty years. Where be your friends, my maid? You'll want to go to them, of course, when you're fit to journey."

"I have no friends but One," said the girl softly: "and He is with me now. I shall go to Him some day, when He has done His work in me and by me. As to other earthly friends, I would not harm the few I might mention, by letting their names be linked with mine, and they would be afraid to own me. For my childhood's friends, _they_ are all over-sea.

I have no friend save G.o.d and you."

When Ermine said, "He is with me now," the old woman had glanced round as if afraid of seeing some unearthly presence. At the last sentence she rose--for she had been kneeling by the girl--with a shake of her head, and went outside the screen, muttering to herself.

"n.o.body but the snow-bird would ever link them two together! Folks think I'm Sathanas' thrall."

She put more sticks on the fire, muttering while she did so.

"'Goodness and mercy!' Eh, deary me! There's not been much o' that for the old witch. Folks are feared of even a white witch, and I ain't a black 'un. Ay, feared enough. They'll give me things, for fear. But n.o.body loves me--no, n.o.body loves me!"

With a vessel of hot broth in her hands, she came back to the niche behind the screen.

"Now, my dearie, drink it up. I must leave you alone a while at after.

I'm going out to beg a coverlet and a bit more victuals. You're not afeared to be left? There's no need, my dear--never a whit. The worst outlaw in all the forest would as soon face the Devil himself as look behind this screen. But I'll lock you in if you like that better."

"As you will, Mother Haldane. The Lord will take care of me, in the way He sees best for me, and most for His glory."

"I'll lock you in. It'll not be so hard for Him then. Some'at new, bain't it, for the like o' me to think o' helping Him?"

Ermine answered only by a smile. Let the old woman learn to come nigh to G.o.d, she thought, however imperfectly; other items could be put right in time.

It was nearly three hours before Haldane returned, and she came so well laden that she had some work to walk. A very old fur coverlet hung over her left arm, while on her right was a basket that had seen hard service in its day.

"See you here, dearie!" she said, holding them up to the gaze of her guest. "Look you at all I've got for you. I didn't steal a bit of it-- I saw from your face you wouldn't like things got that way. Here's a fine happing of fur to keep you warm; and I've got a full dozen of eggs given me, and a beef-bone to make broth, and a poke o' meal: and they promised me a cape at the green house, if I bring 'em some herbs they want. We shall get along grandly, you'll see. I've picked up a fine lot of chestnuts, too,--but them be for me; the other things be for you.

I'll set the bone on this minute; it's got a goodly bit o' meat on it."

"You are very good to me, Mother Haldane. But you must take your share of the good things."

"Never a whit, my dearie! I got 'em all for you. There, now!"

She spread the fur coverlet over Ermine, wrapping her closely in it, and stood a moment to enjoy the effect.

"Ain't that warm, now? Oh, I know where to go for good things! Trust the Wise Woman for that! Can you sleep a while, my dear? Let me put you on a fresh poultice, warm and comforting, and then you'll try, won't you? I'll not make no more noise than Gib here, without somebody comes in, and then it's as may be."

She made her poultice, and put it on, covered Ermine well, made up the fire, and took her seat on the form, just outside the screen, while Ermine tried to sleep. But sleep was coy, and would not visit the girl's eyes. Her state of mind was strangely quiescent and acquiescent in all that was done to her or for her. Perhaps extreme weakness had a share in this; but she felt as if sorrow and mourning were as far from her as was active, tumultuous joy. Calm thankfulness and satisfaction with G.o.d's will seemed to be the prevailing tone of her mind. Neither grief for the past nor anxiety for the future had any place in it. Her soul was as a weaned child.

As Haldane sat by the fire, and Ermine lay quiet but fully awake on the other side of the screen, a low tap came on the door.

"Enter!" said Haldane in a hollow voice, quite unlike the tone she used to Ermine: for the Wise Woman was a ventriloquist, and could produce terrifying effects thereby.

The visitor proved to be a young woman, who brought a badly-sprained wrist for cure. She was treated with an herb poultice, over which the old woman muttered an inaudible incantation; and having paid a bunch of parsnips as her fee, she went away well satisfied. Next came a lame old man, who received a bottle of lotion. The third applicant wanted a charm to make herself beautiful. She was desired to wash herself once a day in cold spring water, into which she was to put a pinch of a powder with which the witch furnished her. While doing so, she was to say three times over--

"Win in, white! Wend out, black!

Bring to me that I do lack.

Wend out, black! Win in, white!

Sweet and seemly, fair to sight."

The young lady, whose appearance might certainly have been improved by due application of soap and water, departed repeating her charm diligently, having left behind her as payment a brace of rabbits.

A short time elapsing, before any fresh rap occurred, Haldane went to look at her patient.

"Well, my dear, and how are you getting on? Not asleep, I see. Look at them rabbits! I can make you broth enough now. Get my living this way, look you. And it's fair too, for I gives 'em good herbs. Fine cures I make by times, I can tell you."

"I wondered what you gave the last," said Ermine.

The old woman set her arms akimbo and laughed.

"Eh, I get lots o' that sort. It's a good wash they want, both for health and comeliness; and I make 'em take it that way. The powder's nought--it's the wash does it, look you: but they'd never do it if I told 'em so. Mum, now! there's another."

And dropping her voice to a whisper, Haldane emerged from the screen, and desired the applicant to enter.

It was a very handsome young woman who came in, on whose face the indulgence of evil pa.s.sions--envy, jealousy, and anger--had left as strong a mark as beauty. She crossed herself as she stepped over the threshold.

"Have you a charm that will win hearts?" she asked.

"Whose heart do you desire to win?" was the reply.

"That of Wigan the son of Egglas."

"Has it strayed from you?"