The Gold Brick Part 32

The old woman heard his voice, and came out into the kitchen, closing the bedroom door, and looking with as much astonishment at the strangers as her numbed faculties would permit her to feel.

"They want to see you," said the officer, turning toward her; "I can't make out nothing more--they talk such outlandish lingo."

Paul motioned Jube to follow, and entered the kitchen. He walked up to the old lady and removed his cap with a low bow, saying:

"It is Madame Allen--the mother of Monsieur Rice?"

"I was his mother," she replied, in a hollow voice, "but he is dead.

What do you want of me, little boy?"

"This letter for you," Paul continued, taking the carefully preserved epistle from his pocket.

The old woman shrunk away, and put out her hand as if to thrust the letter aside.

"More trouble," she muttered. "What can come now?"

Paul understood, rather from the expression of her face than a comprehension of her words, that she was startled.

"Very good news," he said. "The lady much happy now."

"Happy!" she repeated. "Who is that from?"

"From him--from madame's own son!"

She only looked incredulous; she was so stunned by suffering that her mind could not readily receive any new impression.

"I haven't any son," she said; "my son is dead."

The boy glanced anxiously toward Jube, and the old negro felt bound to offer his a.s.sistance, although sadly at a loss to remember a single English word by which matters might be explained.

"No dead, lady!" he exclaimed; "bery live, Ma.s.ser Rice; yes, certainement; very much so."

The old woman gave him a wild look, s.n.a.t.c.hed the letter from Paul's hand, and tore it open, while the three stood gazing at her in astonishment.

"His writing," she muttered. "Oh, I must be going crazy!"

She read the page, retreated backward, and fell into a chair, while the letter fluttered slowly to the floor. She understood the contents, but had wept so much during the past days, that no tears were left; even joy could not revivify the wasted fount.

"What is the matter, Mrs. Allen?" exclaimed the officer, frightened by her appearance. "Don't look so; don't now; it skeers a fellow!"

She pointed to the letter.

"Read it to me," she whispered; "read it, I say; maybe I shall believe it then."

The man picked up the sheet, and spelled out the tidings as well as his astonishment and Rice's crabbed writing would permit.

"My son is alive," muttered the woman. "G.o.d has not altogether forsaken me!"

"Alive!" repeated the officer; "gone another voyage, and sent these two here."

Paul had crept close to Jube, and slipped his slender fingers into the broad palm of his trusty companion, startled by the scene.

"You came from my son?" said the woman, looking earnestly at them.

"Yes," interrupted the officer; "seems to be a sort of adoptation on Dave's part; he's dreadful perticular to have the boy sent to the district school to once."

Mrs. Allen struggled with herself, managed to rise, and walked toward the chamber door.

"Stay here," she said; "sit down and wait for me."

They understood her words, and seated themselves as she directed. Her heavy tread upon the stairs echoed down into the room, and when it died away in the garret, they sat waiting, while the officer stared at them as if they had been two strange birds, placed there for his observation.

When Mrs. Allen reached the cold, silent garret, she sank upon her knees on the bare boards and tried to pray. Broken and faint were the murmurs which fell from her lips; but gradually, through that silent prayer, a ray of holy happiness stole over her haggard features--G.o.d had sent one gleam of light into the terrible blackness which surrounded her.

She rose, at length, strengthened, and able more clearly to reflect upon the joy that had come so unexpectedly into the midst of her anguish.

Her son was alive--it was better that he should not be there--he could in no way aid Katharine. As for her own portion of the agony, only G.o.d could help her to endure that. But he was alive, and would come back in time to comfort her.

Nearly half an hour must have elapsed before she descended the stairs and again entered the kitchen. The strangers were still seated by the fire, and the officer had sufficiently recovered from his stupor of astonishment to overpower them with all sorts of questions, very few of which they understood; but as they made up for this lack of comprehension by a courtesy altogether new and puzzling to him, he had to make the best of matters.

"They come from 'way off, goodness knows where," he said, turning toward Mrs. Allen. "Dave's the queerest fellow to pick up odd critters!"

The woman paid no attention to his words, but went up to Paul and laid her hand on his shoulder; the look of childish comprehension and sympathy which he lifted to her face seemed to go to her heart as no expressions of kindness from another had been able to do. A faint dew gathered in her eyes, but no absolute tears.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I will get you something to eat."

"Madame must not trouble much," Paul said, respectfully.

"It's the natur' o' children and darkies to eat," remarked the officer, sapiently; "you'd better hunt 'em up a cold bite. I feel kinder hungry myself, Mrs. Allen."

The old woman went about her duties in a methodical way, finding a kind of relief in the occupation. She placed such food as she had prepared upon the table, and motioned Paul to sit down. Before the little fellow touched a morsel himself, he heaped a plate with great slices of gingerbread and mince pie, and carried them to Jube.

"Do look at that," muttered the officer; "wal, I never seed a little chap have so much manners afore."

"You are much kind," Paul said to Mrs. Allen; "so was good Rice--_le grand Dieu_ will bless both."

"Granite do," remarked the officer; "I wonder if that's his name?"

"The letter says, Paul," returned the woman.

"Me; that me," said the boy, catching his name, and looking up with a smile.

The woman once more took up the letter, and sat down to gain a clearer knowledge of its contents.

"And you're sent here to stay," she said, with a weary sigh, as she folded the sheet. "Dear me, what a place for anyone to come to!"

"Yes," replied the boy, understanding her first words; "in few months--tree, four, Monsieur Rice come too."

"His name is Dave," said the officer; "but, la! I calculate they have all sorts of queer names for folks in them out of the way countries."