Hesper, the Home-Spirit. Doten Lizzie
fact was, that Hesper’s mother had been ill for a long time, and during the last six months, had been confined entirely to her bed. Hesper was only fifteen years of age, and quite small at that, but being the only daughter in a large and poor family, she had been obliged to think and care for others early. Until the past year she had attended school, and learned very fast, but now, the sickness of her mother made it necessary for her to remain at home. Her loving heart and cheerful disposition made her as quick to learn in one place as another, and she soon became quite an accomplished little house-keeper. All the neighbors wondered at her readiness and ability, and her aunt Betsey, who was very particular and hard to please, declared that Hesper would make a real nice woman, if she lived long enough.
“I sometimes think,” said Hesper, “that mother might get better if she didn’t worry so much about poor little Johnny; but she lies there in bed, and watches him as he eats his bread and milk in the chimney corner, or sits with his playthings on the floor, and she sighs often, as she says – ’Poor child! what would become of you if I should be taken away!’ O, it makes my heart ache, and I feel as though I should cry.”
“It is sad, very sad,” said aunt Nyna.
“Mother says,” continued Hesper, “that for many years she kept thinking he would come out bright at last, but there’s no use hoping for that any longer. Although he is ten years old now, yet he cannot speak a single word, and is just as much pleased with his little playthings, as when he was an infant. Poor Johnny,” she added, thoughtfully, “he is a simple child, but I know he loves me, and if mother should die, I would sooner beg from door to door, than see him suffer.”
As they were talking together, they passed out through the garden gate, and continued down the lane, till they came to the bridge over the brook. Here with many a word of affection and encouragement, they parted. Aunt Nyna returned to her cottage, and Hesper scampered up the winding road by the old wind-mill, in the direction of her home.
CHAPTER III.
HESPER AND HER FATHER
Mr. Greyson, the father of Hesper, sat in his high-backed chair, looking pale and very much distressed. His foot rested upon a pillow in the chair before him, and he groaned as if in great pain. The fire had gone out on the hearth, and the only light in the room was from a tall candle which flickered and flared, making great dancing shadows on the wall, and gleaming fitfully across the face of the sick woman who lay upon the bed. Simple Johnny, the poor child of whom we have spoken, sat in the chimney corner, sobbing and crying as though his heart would break.
“Hush, hush!” said his father impatiently; but the poor child vainly strove to suppress his grief. It was but for a moment, and then it burst forth afresh. One could not wonder much, however, when the cause was known. The little porringer of bread and milk which Hesper had given him just before she went out, by an unlucky slip was overturned upon the hearth, and Fido – a little black dog, with drooping ears and white feet – was lapping it up in greedy haste. This was indeed a serious misfortune. The supper of the children usually consisted of bread and milk, and as it was portioned out in equal shares, therefore what was lost could not be easily replaced. His supper, moreover, was one of the great events in this poor child’s daily experience. His porringer of bread and milk, his wooden horse and tin soldiers, with now and then a run in the fields to gather flowers, made up his whole round of enjoyment. The loss of a richly freighted ship could not have more seriously affected a prosperous merchant, than did that overturned porringer of bread and milk to this poor, simple child.
“Do hush, Johnny dear!” said his mother in a gentle tone, when she saw how much it worried her husband. But the child could not be pacified.
“Strange!” said his father impatiently, “that he couldn’t have been taught to mind better. If he had been constantly under my eye for ten years, it would have been different.” His wife sighed heavily as she sank down again upon her pillow, but made no reply. Just then, in came Hesper, all out of breath with running.
“Well,” said her father, “I hope you have stayed long enough. I wonder if you ever think of anybody but yourself when you are away.”
Hesper did not reply. Her father did not like to be answered when he was impatient, and he was uncommonly so to-night.
“I have a nice parcel of leaves,” she said pleasantly, as she unrolled her apron and displayed them.
“Well, well,” he replied, “put them down, and stop that child’s crying as soon as possible, or send him to bed.”
To Johnny, his father’s last words, which he perfectly understood, were a most unwelcome sound, and he cried louder than ever.
“Poor fellow!” said Hesper, as she discovered the cause of his grief – “no wonder he cries. He has lost nearly all of his supper. How luckily things do happen sometimes,” she thought to herself. “Here I have been so busy that I had quite forgotten my own supper; now Johnny shall share it, and right welcome.” She poured the greater part of the milk out of her own bowl into the porringer, and as she gave it into his hand the glad smile which lit up the troubled countenance of the poor child, and shone through his tears, was worth more to her than victuals and drink. The next thing she did was to kindle a fire and prepare the salve. When it was ready she spread it upon a nice linen cloth, and laid it on the hearth, while she unbound her father’s foot, for it had been bathed and wrapped up nicely, before. Her little sympathising heart was full of compassion for him the moment she beheld it. No wonder he groaned and was so impatient!
“May be,” thought Hesper, “I should make a much more noisy complaint if it were myself.” She handled it very carefully, but her father worried and fretted so, that her hands trembled violently, and she was afraid that she was hurting far more than helping him.
“There,” said he, when she had finished, “I’m glad you are done. I don’t believe it will do one bit of good.”
Hesper was quite disheartened, but she said nothing. She moved the little pine table up to the fire, placed the candle upon it, and sat down to her work. She was making a shirt, of stout, coarse cloth, for Mose. It was the first time she had ever attempted to make one, and she was doing it now by her mother’s direction. It was nearly finished, and her fingers flew very fast, for she thought that when her aunt Betsey came in next morning – as no doubt she would – she would show it to her, and tell her she had made it all herself. She was not afraid to do so, for she knew that she had taken pains enough to please even aunt Betsey.
Mr. Greyson sat very still, with his head laid back in his chair, and his eyes almost closed. Hesper supposed he was asleep, but he was not. He was watching her and thinking very earnestly about her. So much had his mind been occupied by work and family cares of late, that he had scarce bestowed a thought upon her. Now, when he saw how small she was, and then remembered how much she did every day, he wondered that it was possible. Then, too, she looked so cheerful and good-natured, with her hair parted so smoothly on her forehead, and her face bent down to her work, all glowing with pleasant thoughts. His heart was drawn towards her, and he began to be sorry for the impatient words he had spoken. Then he observed, also, her little, short, faded frock, and he wondered how long she had worn, and where she had obtained it. Certainly he had not bought her a dress for more than a year, and where she had obtained that one was a mystery. He did not know that she had often sat up late at night to patch and mend it, and that when, at last, the waist and sleeves had given out entirely, she was obliged to put on her little brown sack and wear it constantly, to cover all deficiencies. His own trials had seemed so great that he had little sympathy to spare for his children. This poor girl, therefore, had been obliged to bear her own little cross of self-denial in silence, while the saddening influences of her father’s gloomy disposition, cast a continual shadow across her sunshine.
She had not the slightest idea at present, however, that he was observing her; for while her fingers flew so swiftly, her mind was busy with plans for the future. At precisely half-past nine the shirt was completed, and as she held it up, she viewed it with the greatest satisfaction. Had it been the most exquisite piece of embroidery, it could not have afforded her a more heartfelt pleasure. She folded it up neatly, and then turned her attention to Johnny. The happy little fellow had eaten