The Little Quaker Part 4

Whilst the young people ran shrieking away, and calling for help in all directions, Josiah, who was an excellent swimmer, never paused to consider the danger, but plunged boldly into the water, and, with the timely a.s.sistance of Lary, who came with a rope to his aid, he succeeded in bringing the senseless boy in safety to the land.

Dan Simpson happened to be pa.s.sing at the very moment George fell into the pond; and, on Henry West imploring him to come and rescue his unfortunate young master from a watery grave, he had the brutality to reply:--

"No! no! Master West, I am not such a fool as to risk my life for any one, much less for George Hope; but here comes Lary with a rope, who will do the job much better than I."

"Unfeeling man!" exclaimed Henry, turning indignantly away; "you may one day know what it is to perish for want of a.s.sistance."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The little Quaker plunges in the water to save George from drowning._ _p. 52._]

But to return to Josiah s.h.i.+rley; when he beheld the pale ghastly countenance of the youth for whose life he had so n.o.bly risked his own, the first idea that entered his mind was that George had already paid the debt of nature, and, turning to Lary, in a hurried voice, he said--

"Oh, Patrick! he does not breathe or move! I fear he is quite dead!"

"I doubt, Master s.h.i.+rley," said Lary, as he raised the body in his arms, "he is quite gone: his poor father will be distracted at his loss; for, in spite of his faults, 'tis a fine youth."

"Oh! think not of his errors now," said Josiah; "he has most likely dearly paid for them. Carry him to our house directly, and let some one run for Mr. Carter, the surgeon!"

"His own father's mansion is as near, Master s.h.i.+rley."

"Do not carry him there, Patrick; Mr. Hope is in London; those servants hate him, and will not take care of him: but my dear Mamma will pay him every attention."

They had now reached Mrs. s.h.i.+rley's door, who, hearing the tread of many feet, came out to inquire the cause, and, though greatly shocked at the sight which met her eyes, she had courage sufficient to give the necessary orders for George's recovery, and sent one of her servants directly for Mr. Carter.

That gentleman soon arrived; and Josiah, anxious to know the fate of George, was going to follow him into the room where the poor lad was; but Pat Lary, in his rough honest manner, prevented him.

"Excuse my want of manners, my brave young gentleman; but you shall not stir a step till you have changed these wet clothes; and, if you will not take my advice, you may chance to be in a worse plight than Mr.

George himself."

So deeply was Josiah interested in the welfare of George, that he had totally disregarded his own wet, miserable condition; and, thanking the blunt Irishman, he instantly retired to make the necessary change.

He had scarcely completed his task, when the dreadful cries of poor George, who was returning to a state of feeling, and that accompanied by exquisite pain, filled the house; this, added to the exhaustion he now felt from his late adventure, so completely overcame the mind of Josiah, that he sank down into a chair, and burst into tears.

At this moment, Henry West entered the room; who, kindly taking his hand, said--

"Compose yourself, my dear Josiah, George is in no imminent danger; Mr.

Carter has succeeded in restoring him to sensation; but, he says, the reanimation of a body taken out of the water in frosty weather is always accompanied by great pain."

"Oh, poor George!" exclaimed Josiah, shuddering, "I can feel for the anguish of his present situation, when I consider what pain a thumb or finger produces, numbed with the cold. How a whole body must suffer in the same state."

"He is quite delirious at present," replied Henry; "and, when his senses return, he will have little recollection of what he now endures: but, my dear Josiah, your hands are as cold as ice; had not you better take something to prevent any ill effects arising from your late perilous adventure?"

"Entertain no apprehensions on my account, Henry," said Josiah: "I am strong and healthy; early rising and exercise have inured my body to the slight inconveniences of wet and cold. I only feel for poor George; and, in contemplating his sufferings, such trifles are disregarded by me."

"Dear Josiah, the longer I know you, the more I esteem and love you,"

cried Henry, warmly pressing the young Quaker's hand. "You have performed a great and n.o.ble action to-day; you almost make me guilty of that wicked pa.s.sion, envy, for I wish this day I was Josiah s.h.i.+rley!"

The gentle boy shook his head. "Do not flatter me, Henry; I have not merited such praise for performing a mere act of duty, which we all owe to each other. Has not G.o.d himself commanded us to succour a fellow-creature in distress; even if it were an enemy that stood in need of our a.s.sistance. Let us, therefore, bestow our praises and thanks on that great and awful Being who has wrought this act of mercy through our feeble hands. Let us earnestly entreat him to shed his divine grace upon the darkened mind of this deluded boy, and finally recall him from the error of his ways."

George Hope could scarcely recover his senses sufficiently to remember the accident that had nearly deprived him of life, before he was attacked with a violent fever, which required the greatest care and attention from his kind friends; indeed, they spared no pains to relieve his sufferings. Josiah seldom left his bed-side: he gave him his physic, adjusted his pillows, and cheerfully performed for him every little service. Mr. Hope came every day to see his son; and expressed the warmest grat.i.tude to the good Quakers, for their unremitting kindness to the unconscious sufferer. William always attended his father on these visits; and the state in which he saw his brother had such an effect on his mind, that, before he returned to school, he promised his excellent parent, that he would obey his injunctions for the future, and never more give him cause to complain.

"Already, my dear Josiah," said Mr. Hope, taking the hand of the young Quaker, as he stood by the bed-side of his son, "to your goodness I owe the reformation of one of my children, the life of the other; and, oh!

if it should please G.o.d ever to restore this unhappy boy to my prayers, use your utmost endeavours, my good Josiah, to turn him from his present forlorn state of mind: and your virtuous endeavours will be repaid by the blessings of a grateful father."

"Oh, Sir!" returned Josiah, his eyes filling with tears as he spoke, "I have little doubt of his amendment. A bed of sickness brings an awful picture before our eyes. When George comes to reflect on his late providential escape from death, his heart will soften, and he will remember his past conduct with feelings of painful regret; and such reflections, I trust, will bring with them a sincere and lasting repentance."

"G.o.d grant that your words may prove true, my excellent young friend,"

said Mr. Hope; "and rest a.s.sured, that your n.o.ble endeavours to reclaim an erring fellow-creature (and one who, I am sorry to say, has given you such just cause of displeasure), will meet with a reward both here and in another world."

A few days after this conversation, George Hope was declared out of immediate danger; and, when recollection returned, he found himself supported in s.h.i.+rley's arms.

A sense of his situation rushed over his mind. The strange room, the strange bed, all confirmed the idea that Josiah was his preserver, and that he was in the house of Mrs. s.h.i.+rley; his heart, by nature not bad, though by the force of evil example so sadly perverted, softened into remorse and grat.i.tude, and, burying his face in Josiah's bosom, he burst into a flood of tears.

"Is it to you, Josiah s.h.i.+rley, that I owe my life, whom I have so basely and cruelly injured. Oh! if you did but know what a worthless wretch it is you support thus tenderly in your arms, you would fling me from you with disgust and horror."

"Calm these agitating feelings, my dear George," said Josiah, attempting to sooth him; and forgetting, whilst he did so, his usual precision. "I have long ago forgotten and forgiven our foolish dispute in the meadow; let not the recollection of such trifles discompose thy mind in an hour like this. Remember the past only as it refers to the improvement of the future; and believe that Josiah s.h.i.+rley is thy sincere and lasting friend."

"G.o.d bless you for that word, Josiah!" exclaimed George, in a feeble voice, as he sank back exhausted on the pillow. "How little have I deserved this kindness from you. Oh, may I never be tempted to forfeit your esteem for the future!"

"After this worthy resolution, friend George," said Josiah, playfully putting his finger on his patient's lips, "I must insist on silence, for it cannot be very prudent for thee to converse on any subject in thy present weak state."

George smiled at this restraint on his tongue; but he very patiently submitted to the young Quaker's request.

Most sincerely did George promise amendment for the future; and Josiah was not backward in a.s.sisting him in the arduous task of self-improvement.

Whilst watching by his sick pillow, for George was confined to his bed many weeks, s.h.i.+rley read to him pa.s.sages from the best of our moral works, and daily portions of the divine gospels, whilst, in his simple language, he set before him the dreadful consequences which generally followed disobedience to parents, and keeping company with vicious people.

Every day added to young Hope's mental improvement; but his health remained in so precarious a state, that a decline was apprehended, and Mr. Hope granted Josiah's earnest request to let his son remain with them till he should have gained sufficient strength to return to school.

Indeed, George had grown so fond of Josiah, that he could not feel happy a moment out of his company. Often, when s.h.i.+rley was busily employed in his studies, George would silently watch his mild sweet countenance, till he felt the tears tremble in his eyes, when he recalled the unworthy treatment the n.o.ble youth had experienced at his hands.

Yet, though he deeply repented of the past, George could never summon up courage enough to inform Josiah of his baseness in destroying his trees.

A hundred times a day he was on the point of declaring his guilt; but false pride always hindered him from confessing so degrading an action.

As the spring advanced, he would rise early in the morning, and work with Josiah in the garden, and help little Rachel to feed her rabbits, and plant and tie up the flowers; and these small jobs he did with greater alacrity, hoping that the earnestness with which he performed any little office towards the re-embellishment of the garden would, in some measure, atone for the wanton mischief he had been guilty of in the summer; but he never entered the garden without a secret sigh, or saw Josiah labouring to restore it to its former beauty, without bitter feelings of self-condemnation.

Pat Lary came every day to inquire after the young Squire's health, and George never shook hands with the honest creature without the keenest remorse, while Simpson, who had been the author of all his vices, was heard to say in the village, "that it was a pity young s.h.i.+rley saved him from being drowned; for he was a wicked lad, and he was sure he would never come to a good end."

The spring came, and pa.s.sed away, with all its flowers and verdure, but George remained so feeble and dejected, that he was not able to return to school that quarter. Mr. Hope was greatly alarmed at the increasing debility of his son, though equally delighted with his mental improvement; and was not behindhand in making handsome presents to Mrs.

s.h.i.+rley, for the kind attention she payed to the suffering youth.

He likewise presented Josiah a beautiful pony, and a small library of choice books, as a testimony of his grat.i.tude and esteem, which the young Quaker received with unfeigned pleasure; and, as he went to turn his new favourite into the meadow, Mr. Hope followed him, and, taking his arm, thus addressed him:--

"In spite of all your pains, my good Josiah, I fear my poor boy is fast hastening to the grave. Mr. Carter told me this morning he could a.s.sign no reason for his lingering illness; he thought it now rested entirely on the mind of the patient. You have many opportunities of noticing him, what is your opinion on the subject?"

"I agree with Mr. Carter, Sir," replied Josiah; "though I cannot discover the reason of my friend's obstinate grief. I have often questioned him, but to no purpose, as he only answers me on this head with tears."

"I fear, my kind lad," said Mr. Hope, sighing heavily as he spoke, "that it is some bad action he has committed before his illness, that lies upon his conscience; which, if once removed, would restore his health and spirits. If you can, my dear Josiah, possibly discover the cause of his dejection, I shall be greatly obliged to you." Josiah promised to do his best, and Mr. Hope wished him good morning.

It happened that day, that George was in better spirits than usual; and Josiah, as he watched the bright glow which at times flushed his pale cheeks, hoped he was fast improving in health. The evening was uncommonly beautiful; and, after they returned from their accustomary walk, Rachel invited them to take a turn in the garden, and eat some nice ripe strawberries she had gathered in their absence.