B. L. Farjeon

“ My grief was intensely selfish; I had not the strength which often comes from suffering, nor was I blessed with such a nature as my mother's--a nature which does not colour surrounding circumstances with the melancholy hue of its own sorrows. Unhappily, it falls to the lot of few to be brought within the sweet influence of one whose mission on earth seems to be to shed the light of peace and love upon those among whom her lot is cast, and to whom, unless we are ungratefully forgetful, as I was on this night, we look instinctively for comfort and consolation when trouble comes to us. ”

“ It was apparent that these enchanting ways were pleasant to uncle Bryan, and I told Jessie so.
'It softens him, Jessie.'
'It takes a long time to soften a rock,' she observed, with a thoughtful smile.
'If anybody can do it, you can, Jessie.'
'You think nothing but good of me, Chris.'
'I only say what I feel. And you really want uncle Bryan to love you?'
'Yes--more than I can say--and I can scarcely tell why.'
'Except,' I said, with a foolish hesitation, 'that you like to be loved by everybody.'
'Perhaps it is because of that, Chris. I do like everybody to love me. ”

“ But if the son had had such a mother as mine----
Ah, if an influence so sweet had sweetened his life--if an affection so pure had purified his mind--how different it might have been with him! The cobwebs of scepticism and bitter distrust might have been swept from his soul. He might have grown into a good and noble man. For I recognised qualities in uncle Bryan's nature far higher than those with which the men I was acquainted with were gifted. My blind unreasoning anger against him was gone, and I felt only pity for the desolate old man. ”

“ We all applauded heartily.
'Bravo! bravo!' cried Turk, who had entered during the scene. 'If the author isn't satisfied with that performance, then nothing will satisfy him. But nothing less than a hundred nights' run ever does satisfy an author--How are you, mother? How do you do, Chris, my boy? Well, Josey, old girl! No, nothing less than that ever does satisfy an author, who invariably says, when a piece is a failure, that the actors are muffs and don't know their business. But they get as good as they give; let actors alone for reckoning up an author. ”

“ I do not know in what way it came into my mind that there are numberless small things in life which we ought to be grateful for, but the thought came. Presently, while my hand and eyes were busy on delicate manipulations in the wood, my mind reverted to uncle Bryan and Jessie, and the strange, strange letter I had read. Could Jessie ever forgive her father? Never, I thought. The unkindnesses inflicted upon herself she might have been eager to forgive when she made the discovery that she had a father living, but the wrong inflicted upon her mother was past forgiveness. ”

“ Uncle Bryan's trade yielded, with careful watching, sufficient profit for our wants; but I, also, was earning money now, and it was with an honest feeling of pride that I paid my mother so many shillings a week--I am almost ashamed to say how few--towards the expenses of my living. And so the days rolled on.
But in the web of our lives a thread was woven of which no sign had yet been seen, and chance or destiny was drawing it towards us with firm hand--a thread which, when it was linked to our hearts, was to throw strong light and colour on the tranquil days. ”

“ Jessie, Jessie! Mother, why didn't you ask her her name when she came in?'
'She came to see your uncle, Chris. We must never forget one thing, my dear. This is his house, and he has been very kind to us.'
'He would be angry if he heard you say so.'
'That is his nature, and I should not say it to him. The least we can do in return for all his goodness is to study him in every possible way in our power. To have asked her all about herself might have been like stealing into his confidence. ”

“ Uncle Bryan interrupted me, for I had paused. He took up my words. 'Inclination is an idle selfish imp. Life is full of temptations, and inclination leads us to them; we follow only too readily.'
'All that we can do,' said my mother, caressing me fondly, 'is to do our best; we are often the slave of circumstances, Bryan.'
'In many cases,' he replied, 'not in all, a man can rise above them. We do not exercise our reason sufficiently. We cry and fret like children because things are not exactly as we wish.'
'Do you?' asked Jessie quickly. ”

“ I know my good boy will try to be a good man.'
'I will try to; as good as you are. I want to be like you. Could I not work now, mother?'
'No, dear child; you are not strong enough yet.'
'I wish I could grow into a strong man in a night,' I thought.
My mother came to the bedside and rested her fingers upon my neck. What tenderness dwells in a loving mother's touch! I imprisoned her fingers in mine. She leant towards me caressingly and kissed me. Sleep stole upon me in that kiss of love.
I saw a picture in a shop window of a girl whose bright fresh face brought my mother's face before me. ”

“ Shortly afterwards we arrived at the shop, and I saw a light gleaming through the shutters. To my surprise, uncle Bryan, instead of unlocking the door, knocked at it, and I found myself wondering who was inside; all the members of Josey West's family were at home in their old house. As uncle Bryan knocked, my mother grasped my hand tightly; I looked into her face, and saw in it an expression of love, so sweet and pure, and yet withal so wistful and yearning, that a wild unreasoning hope entered my heart. ”

“ Your mother's life has been bound up in yours. No woman, unsustained by most perfect and most unselfish love, could have held up against such trials as hers; where she has had doubts she has thrust them from her, and her deep affection has given her strength to bear her sufferings. For a long time there has been raging within her a mental conflict, the torture of which only those can understand who love as she loves, and only those can feel whose natures are as delicately sensitive as hers. ”

“ The time has gone, never to return; the power of comprehension has gone, never to return. You must take me as you find me. There is very little in the world that I like or dislike; but I can heartily despise one thing: insincerity. Have you anything more to say?'
'No, Bryan;' and I could see that my mother was both pained and relieved.
'I have; two or three words. A question first. You can be satisfied to remain here?'
'Yes, Bryan, if it satisfies you. I can do no better.'
A gleam came into his eyes. 'That is sincere,' he said, with a pleasanter smile than the last. ”

“ Snaggletooth was carrying me out of the churchyard, and as I opened my eyes, the monkey-man, squatting on Snaggletooth's shoulder, squinted at me. In the same way the image presented itself in every incident connected with Jessie and my mother and uncle Bryan; and when I lay trembling in bed, and Jane Painter stood in my bedroom in the dark telling me stories of blood and murder, the monkey-man prowled about the floor, and dropped from the ceiling, and crept from under my bed, and sat on my pillow with its ugly face illumined. ”

“ She a coward! Dear heart! Brave soul! Her voice grew softer.
'And O, Chris, my child! since I have stood there I have learnt so much that I did not know before. It has made me better--humbler. Never again, never again can I doubt the goodness of God! What good there is in the world of which we are ignorant, until sorrow brings us to the knowledge of it! ”

“ I could not check my sobs; I felt as if my heart would burst. 'O mother! mother!' I cried. 'I remember now; I remember now!'
She held me in her arms, and caressed me, and pressed me to her heart. My tears flowed upon her faithful breast.
'How did you find me, dear child? Unkind mother that I am to leave my darling hungry and alone all the day!'
'Don't say that, mother. You mustn't; you mustn't! If anybody else said it, I would kill him!'
'Hush, dear child! You must not excite yourself. Come, you shall go to bed ”

“ Jessie's joy and my mother's may be imagined, but it would be difficult to realise the depth of uncle Bryan's feelings towards the darling. We named her Frances, after Jessie's mother; it was uncle Bryan's wish. His love for the dear little creature became a worship; he was restless and unhappy if a waking hour passed without his seeing her. He nursed her, and prattled to her, and rocked her cradle, and would sit for hours by her side while she was sleeping. She grew to love him, and her beautiful eyes would dilate, and she would wave her dimpled arms when he held out his to her. ”

“ I am sure there is nothing you could ask me to do that I would not do; if I could die to make you happy, I would do so gladly, Jessie.'
'But I don't want you to die, Chris; what should I do without you? Then when one loves really and truly, and with one's heart and soul, there is no selfishness in it? One doesn't think of oneself?'
'I think of nothing but you, Jessie. I should like to be successful, for your sake; I should like to be rich, for your sake. ”

“ You told me once that every person in life has a proper groove. I think it very hard that I should have lived all these years without, until now, falling into my proper groove; I am in it at last, but I am ready to slap all the children's faces to think that so many years have been wasted. I was born to be a grocer, and at last a grocer I am. If you can find me a better one than I am, show him to me, and I'll resign. I've been looking over your uncle's books, and, as true as I'm a living woman, I'm taking more money than ever he took, if his figures are right. Every day I make a new customer. ”

“ Nothing had occurred to disturb the peaceful current of our lives. Uneventful as the small circumstances of my past life were in the light of surrounding things, each scene in the simple drama which had thus far progressed was distinctly defined, and seemed to have no connection with what preceded it or followed it. The first, which had occurred in the house where I was born, and which ended with my father's death; the second, in which my mother had taken so mournful a part, and which contained so strange a mingling of joy and sorrow ”