The Project Gutenberg eBook of A three-fold promise
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: A three-fold promise

Author: Marian Isabel Hurrell


        
Release date: July 30, 2026 [eBook #79226]

Language: English

Original publication: London: S. W. Partridge & Co., 1899

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79226


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A THREE-FOLD PROMISE ***

Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.



[Illustration: "I HEARD GRANDPA SAY HE WAS A REG'LAR HEATHEN."]



                         A THREE-FOLD PROMISE


                                  BY

                         MARIAN ISABEL HURRELL

                      AUTHOR OF "CECILY MORDAUNT."


                            [Illustration]


                                LONDON
                         S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO.
                        8 & 9 PATERNOSTER ROW.



                               CONTENTS.

                            [Illustration]

CHAP.

    I. "A REG'LAR HEATHEN"

   II. IN DISGRACE

  III. DORIS MAXWELL'S LETTER

   IV. "PROFESSOR" WRAGGS, THE SHOWMAN

    V. THE MISSING CHILD

   VI. DISCOVERY

  VII. MADAME FAIVRE

 VIII. REUNION


                         A THREE-FOLD PROMISE.

                            [Illustration]

CHAPTER I.

"A REG'LAR HEATHEN."

THE carriage stood waiting at the door, the boxes carefully packed by
a mother's loving hand were all ready to be shouldered by the stalwart
"cabby," and in the shabby little sitting-room of a poor London home,
the last few words of parting were being spoken.

Gerald Weston's heart was very heavy, for on that day, he and his
mother were to be separated for the first time in his young life. And
the boy's spirit failed him as he thought of the long months which must
elapse ere he saw her face again.

"My laddie," said his mother, fondly, "I want you to promise to do
three things whilst I am away from you: Never to forget your prayers,
to speak the truth 'always,' and to remember that whatever may happen,
God loves you and is watching over you."

"Yes, mother, I promise, but why must you leave me?" sobbed the boy,
clinging to her as though he never meant to let go.

"Because, darling, it is for your good. You know, since your father's
death we have been very, very poor, and your uncle has promised to
provide for you if I give you up to him for two years. In the meantime,
I must work hard, and perhaps you and I can have a cosy little home in
the country in the days to come. The time will soon pass, and we shall
be together again." But the mother's tear-filled eyes belied her brave
words.

"Why can't you teach me 'stead of other little boys and girls?" said
Gerald, half rebelliously.

"Come, my boy, you must be brave for my sake."

A tap at the door signified that the boxes were disposed of, and that
the bitter moment of parting had arrived. A long, lingering clasp, a
loving embrace, and the good-byes were over, and an entirely new life
had commenced for Gerald Weston. He was but eight years old, and little
wonder that the future looked dark and drear, with no mother at hand to
comfort him.

Nothing but absolute poverty would have driven her to part with the
child, and the conditions made by Sir Herbert Weston, his uncle, were
hard to bear. Only in case of illness on either side, were mother and
son to meet within the next two years, during which time Gerald would
be entirely provided for, at Sir Herbert's expense. Had Mrs. Weston
known more of the character of the man to whom she was entrusting her
child, nothing would have persuaded her to part with him, but the
inducements held out so dazzled her, that she agreed to Sir Herbert's
proposals, believing him to be possessed of a kindly, albeit somewhat
severe, disposition.


Sir Herbert Weston, and his friend Mr. Wilfrid Sharpe—the family
lawyer—were engaged in an after-dinner chat, when a loud ring resounded
through the house.

"H'm!" ejaculated the baronet, with a grim smile on his features. "That
is my hopeful young nephew, I suppose."

Mr. Sharpe looked up inquiringly.

"I have not told you yet of my latest little—fad, I suppose you will
call it. You remember poor Oliver? Well, his widow, a poverty-stricken
descendant of some old Scotch Covenanter, is reduced to great straits,
and I have undertaken to provide for the boy, on condition that his
mother gives him up to me entirely for the space of two years. If I
find out during that time he is a lad to my liking, I shall make him my
heir; if not, well—" Here Sir Herbert snapped his thumb and finger as
though he were quite indifferent to the matter in hand.

Mr. Sharpe, despite his keen professional manner, had a nature beneath
which belied his name, and in his heart, he pitied the child who was
thus given up to his uncle's tender mercies.

"Poor little chap!" he muttered.

"Why?" said the baronet, sharply.

"Well, I don't wish to hurt your feelings, Sir Herbert, but you don't
seem exactly the kind of man to train a mother-sick laddie."

Sir Herbert was in no way offended, being accustomed to the lawyer's
plain speech.

"We bachelors can't be expected to understand children's ways," added
Mr. Sharpe, as though his first remark required toning down a little.

"I have no wish to understand children's ways," said the baronet, with
a frown; "my nephew is going to understand mine, and I shall expect
him to follow in them unquestioningly. You shall see the child for
yourself, and give me your opinion of him afterwards." So saying, Sir
Herbert rung the bell sharply.

"Send Master Weston in to me," he said to the maid who promptly
answered the summons.

In a very short space of time the door opened, and a childish figure
stood on the threshold.

Mr. Sharpe, who prided himself on being a keen judge of character,
looked at the little fellow critically, and seeing in the
straightforward blue eyes traces of recent tears, felt a rush of pity
and tenderness, and made up his mind there and then to befriend, so far
as it lay in his power, Sir Herbert's young nephew.

"How do you do, Uncle Herbert?" said the boy, coming forward half
shyly, yet with a certain childish self-possession which amused the
baronet.

"How do you do, Gerald?" answered Sir Herbert, after which he
introduced his nephew to Mr. Sharpe.

Little notice was taken of Gerald for some time, until the lawyer with
kindly interest in his tone said: "And how did you leave your mother,
little man?"

With the memory of that bitter parting fresh in his mind, little wonder
that the boy's eyes filled with tears, and that for a moment he was
unable to answer.

One of his mother's counsels rung in his ears: "Be a brave laddie,
Gerald." And with a mighty effort he pulled himself together, and tried
to smile as he replied to the gentleman's polite inquiry.

Such a weak, watery smile it was, that it brought a sudden moisture to
the glasses of the lawyer. Removing them from his eyes, he wiped them
very deliberately before making any further remark.

Sir Herbert, who had also noticed the boy's brave effort at
self-control, was secretly pleased, and with a desire to avoid any
further upset, he bade Gerald say "Good night," and prepare for bed.

Once upstairs in the bedroom prepared for his use in Sir Herbert's town
residence, the boy buried his face in the white counterpane and sobbed
bitterly.

A brisk movement at the door, and the housekeeper, a comely woman, with
cheeks like rosy apples, entered the room.

She stared aghast at the crying child, and then her womanliness getting
the better of her, she dropped her quick business-like manner, and
clasping her arms around the boy, drew him towards her, and let him sob
to his heart's content.

"My mother! My mother! I want her so badly," he cried.

"Yes, yes, I know you do," said the good woman, "but you must cheer up;
you'll feel ever so much better to-morrow."

Mrs. Webster, for the past twenty years, had been Sir Herbert's
housekeeper, both in his town residence, and also at The Towers, his
lovely home in one of the Eastern counties. She was well accustomed
to his ways, and her presence in his household was a necessity to his
comfort. Knowing her master as she did, she rather trembled for the
effect he would have upon this sensitive and warm-hearted child.

"Hilda will be your maid in future, my dear, but to-night 'I' am going
to put you to bed." And so saying, she undressed him, as she would a
baby. As the child knelt in his little white night-shirt to say his
prayers, her eyes overflowed.

"Not many prayers rise from this house I'm thinking," she murmured to
herself; "maybe the child is sent to lift us out of the world a bit,
and nearer to a better one."

All unknown to his little forlorn self, Gerald Weston had made two new
friends, who in his unknown future would stand by him right well.

There was silence for a while in the library below, where the two
gentlemen were sitting, whilst upstairs the boy slept the dreamless
slumber of tired-out childhood.

"So you are going away to-morrow, Sir Herbert," said the lawyer after a
long pause.

"Yes, but my business on the Continent will only last a few days, and
then I shall return, and think what is best to be done concerning the
boy."

"In the meantime, I wish you would grant me a favour."

"With pleasure, if I can do so."

"Let me have the boy whilst you are away. My sister's little girl
is staying at my house, and needs a companion sorely. They would be
capital playmates, I fancy."

At the word "playmates," Sir Herbert frowned, for he did not approve of
recreation; life to him was all earnest. Nevertheless, he agreed to Mr.
Sharpe's proposition, as the lawyer had been too good a friend to him
in the past, for him to refuse to grant such a small favour.


Thus it was, that on the following day, Gerald found himself a guest at
the pleasant suburban home of Mr. Sharpe, and his maiden sister, Rachel.

He was not at all sorry to leave the gloomy house of his uncle behind
him, for already it seemed to him like a prison.

Miss Sharpe's welcome consisted of a peck on the cheek, intended for
a kiss, and a limp handshake, but what was lacking on her part, her
little niece supplied. Doris Maxwell, a child of about six years of
age—and not at all troubled with shyness—came forward, and put her
arms around his neck, as she would have done to one of her own little
brothers.

Gerald was a little taken aback first of all, but he came to the
conclusion that she was a very nice little girl.

The two children soon became great friends, and the merry games they
played helped Gerald to forget his grief awhile.

"You 'are' a kind boy," said the little maid to him, after a friendship
of twenty-four hours. "You don't tease me, nor poke my dollie's eyes
in, nor nothing."

Gerald grew rosy with pleasure.

"Do your brothers tease you then?" he asked.

"Oh! Drefful. I can't 'tell' you all the naughty things they do," said
Doris, opening wide her brown eyes with righteous indignation.

To further gain the little lady's approval, Gerald bethought himself of
what he could give her for a present.

Feeling in his pocket, he drew forth one of his chief possessions, a
little knife. It was a great sacrifice on Gerald's part, and he looked
at it lingeringly before parting with it.

"I am going to give you a present, 'cause we're friends, you and me."

"What is it? Oh, a knife! How lovely, Gerald, but I 'spect I must hide
it away from Aunt Rachel. She is a very 'culiar lady, and might take it
from me; she isn't half so kind as Uncle Wilfrid. Is your uncle nice,
Gerald?" inquired the child, with some curiosity in her tone.

Gerald scarcely knew at first how to answer this very communicative
little girl. "I don't know, I hope he is," he said, with a deep sigh.

"Don't 'spect he is, for I heard my grandpa say he was a reg'lar
heathen."

"Heathen?" repeated Gerald in surprise.

"Yes, p'raps you don't know what they are. Well, I'll tell you!
Heathens is black, and they have little idols, which they says their
prayers to. Mother told me, so I know it's true. Is your uncle black?"

"No," said Gerald, bursting into a merry laugh, which would have
cheered his mother's heart could she have heard it.

Doris looked disappointed.

"Oh well, perhaps he'll turn black by-and-by; anyhow I know he's a
heathen, 'cause grandpa says so, and he knows everything. He's so
'very' old, nearly a thousand years, I should think."

"What a funny old man he must be!" said Gerald, bubbling over with
amusement.

"I shall come and see you one day, 'cause I love you very much," said
Doris after a slight pause, for a brilliant idea had just occurred to
her mind.

"Perhaps my uncle won't let you come," answered Gerald a little sadly.

"Oh, yes he will, I shall come with Uncle Wilfrid, see if I don't,
and—" here the child lowered her voice mysteriously—"we will try and
find the idol what he prays to."

Gerald began to think that Doris was the dearest and funniest little
girl he had ever met, and he was quite comforted to think there might
be a chance of meeting her again at his uncle's house.

The days spent at Mr. Sharpe's pretty suburban home, passed all too
quickly away, and it was with regret he bade "good bye" to new friends.

Doris came to the gate to see the last of him, and called out in her
childish treble, "I'll be sure to come and see you, Gerald, and the
heathen as well. I wish he was black, though!"

"Gracious!" said Miss Rachel. "What 'does' the child mean?" But hearing
at that moment from cook that the kitchen chimney was on fire, she
puzzled her brains no more about the subject.



CHAPTER II.

IN DISGRACE.

SIR HERBERT returned from the Continent, eager to commence the training
which he considered advisable for his future heir. A competent tutor
was engaged to give him lessons daily, and many were the restrictions
imposed upon the child. After the freedom of his home life, the boy
felt the change greatly, and pined like a bird in captivity.

No Scripture lessons were allowed, and but for good Mrs. Webster's
influence, the child would have been discouraged to say his morning and
evening prayers, for Sir Herbert believed in none of these things. He
found the lad tolerably submissive, and was congratulating himself on
the success of his system of education, little dreaming that the boy
was chafing even as a prisoner in the house of bondage.

One day in the midst of Gerald's lessons, a tap was heard at the
schoolroom door.

"Come in," said the tutor, and in walked a little figure, with merry
brown eyes, and curly hair.

Gerald at once recognised her as his little friend Doris Maxwell, and
sprung forward to greet her. In the presence of his tutor she only
nodded and smiled, then turning to the tall, scholarly-looking young
man, she addressed her remarks to him.

"Please what is your name?" she said, commencing her catechism at once.

"I am Marmaduke Trevor, little maid, this young gentleman's tutor," he
answered pleasantly.

"What a funny name!" said the irrepressible Doris. "It 'minds me of
marmalade."

Gerald laughed, but the tutor looked grave, as if he considered Doris
rather an impudent little girl, though the child really meant no
disrespect.

"Please I've come with a message, Mr. 'Marmaluke.' Gerald's uncle says
he wishes him to have a little holiday, and come out in the garden with
me."

Sir Herbert's slightest wish being a command, the tutor dismissed his
pupil, and smiled to see what an utterly different boy he was in the
companionship of this little girl, from the repressed, serious child
who usually looked as though there was an ache in his heart for his
absent mother.

Glad peals of laughter presently rang out in the garden below, and so
merry were the children's voices, that they made quite a pleasant break
in the business conversation which was going on in the library between
Sir Herbert and the lawyer; at least, such was the opinion of the
latter gentleman.

After lunch, of which the children partook with their elders, and
behaved with the utmost propriety (although there were times when Sir
Herbert found Doris's inquiring gaze almost embarrassing), the boy and
girl went upstairs to the deserted schoolroom, as the little apartment
in which Gerald did his studies was called. Here they amused themselves
looking over a certain picture book, which Gerald's mother had given
him on his eighth birthday.

"There's our uncles walking round the garden," said Doris, after a
while, craning her neck to look out of the window on to the small patch
of ground, which was all Sir Herbert's town residence could boast in
the way of garden. "Now shall we go and look for the idol?" murmured
Doris, mysteriously.

"What idol?" said Gerald, little dreaming of the importance the
imaginative child had placed on her grandfather's words.

"The one your uncle bows down to," she answered; "surely you 'member
what I told you."

"Doris, what a little goose you are!" laughed Gerald.

"I'm not a goose, and you're a rude boy," she said, with a pout, and a
suggestion of tears in her voice. "If you don't come, I shall go all by
myself," she added.

Now I fear Doris was a naughty spoilt child, for she certainly on this
day led Gerald to be guilty of his first act of disobedience.

"I'll go with you, Doris," he said, anxious to appease the offended
little lady, and the two children started off on a voyage of discovery,
Doris leading the way.

Gerald followed until they came to the library, the door of which stood
partly open.

"I'm going in here, Gerald; 'spect that's where he keeps it," said the
child.

Now Gerald had been forbidden to enter the library at any time without
his uncle's permission, and fearful of disregarding the stern order, he
stood for a moment hesitatingly on the threshold.

A little scream of delight from Doris made him enter.

Before an Indian cabinet stood the little girl, her brown eyes wide
open with wonder and surprise.

"I've found it! I've found it! There's the idol what your uncle
worships. Oh, Gerald! What a hid'ous old thing."

There on the top of the cabinet, amongst other treasures, was placed
a small heathen god, brought from India as a curiosity some years
previously by Sir Herbert after a brief stay in that country.

"Don't touch it, Doris," cried Gerald in alarm; "uncle would be 'so'
angry!"

"I shall just see what it's made of," said the child, taking the little
image into her hands to examine it.

By this time Gerald was in a fever of fright, and snatching the
treasure from Doris, was about to replace it, when Sir Herbert himself
entered the room.

Every particle of colour forsook the cheeks of the boy, and he looked
as though convicted of some terrible crime.

"Your uncle is ready for you, Doris," said Sir Herbert with great
dignity, and feeling like a very naughty child—as indeed she was—Doris
hastily left the library.

"I will speak to you later, Gerald, about this matter. Meanwhile you
can go up to the schoolroom and remain there until Mr. Sharpe and his
niece have left."

In a short space of time, Gerald heard the sound of carriage wheels
departing, and then he knew that his hour of judgment was come.

A message was despatched to the schoolroom, summoning him to come at
once to the library, and tremblingly the boy obeyed.

Sir Herbert stood facing the door, with a small cane in his hand, as
Gerald entered the room.

"What excuse have you to offer, Gerald, for this disgraceful act of
disobedience!" he demanded.

Deep down in his cold, worldly heart, he was becoming attached to the
little fellow who submitted himself so patiently to his rule, though
Sir Herbert little knew the depths of love and passion of which the
sensitive, fragile boy was capable.

Gerald hesitated as to whether he might not justify himself by throwing
the blame on to his little companion, but to his childish sense of
honour, such a course of action was inexcusable, for was not Doris his
chosen friend?

No, he would bear whatever punishment Sir Herbert might inflict, for he
knew that if the blame were to fall upon Doris, never again would she
be permitted to be his playmate and companion.

"I'm sorry," began the child.

"So am I, as I hoped and believed I could trust you. What would your
mother say to such an act of disobedience?"

The boy's lip quivered, but Sir Herbert was merciless.

"I intend you shall obey me in everything whilst you are in my house.
'Implicit obedience,' remember! And for this act I shall punish you."

Now Gerald in all his young life had never once been beaten, and he
had a babyish fear of the cane. His father had been too indolent to
put himself out in any way, and his young loving mother had ruled him
entirely by the law of kindness; therefore corporal punishment was to
him a revelation, and a very unpleasant one too.

"Don't beat me, 'please,' Uncle Herbert, I'll never do it again!"
pleaded the boy, with a deep sob in his voice.

"No, my lad, I don't think you will, but I shall whip you all the same."

It was not a cruel, merciless beating which Gerald had to endure, but
the shame and humiliation of it all, entered like iron into his soul.

"He bore it like a man, ay and a gentleman," said Sir Herbert long
afterwards, when remorse and sorrow had touched his heart, for the
punishment he had so hastily bestowed.

Banishment for the rest of the day followed his chastisement, and by
his uncle's desire, the culprit's meals were served in his bedroom.

"I can't eat anything, thank you, Hilda," he said, when the
good-natured girl brought him up his supper.

"Do now, Master Gerald, dearie. Here's a lovely piece of sponge cake,
which cook made on purpose, knowing as you was fond of it. Come, do
try, you'll feel ever so much better when you've eaten it, and had a
good drink of milk."

To please Hilda, the child made an effort to eat, and was really
refreshed and comforted, both by the meal, and the girl's tender
sympathy combined. Having said his prayers, which, faithful to the
promise he had given his mother, were never forgotten, he laid his
weary little head on the pillow, and very soon the deep sobs were
hushed to the calm even breathing of childhood's peaceful slumber.



CHAPTER III.

DORIS MAXWELL'S LETTER.

A MASS of correspondence awaited Sir Herbert's perusal, and amongst the
heap of letters was one addressed to him in a round, childish hand.

Something unusual about the envelope caused him to open this letter
first of all, and he was in the midst of reading it, when Gerald made
his appearance in the breakfast room, on the morning which followed his
disgrace.

A curt greeting was all that Sir Herbert bestowed on the child, but as
he folded his letter, and put it back into the envelope, he looked at
the boy with a softened expression in his eyes, and felt a slight pang
of reproach, as he marked the pale cheeks and heavy eyes of the little
lad.

Gerald proceeded with his breakfast in silence, for he knew better than
to interrupt Sir Herbert during the reading of his correspondence,
besides which he was too sore at heart for conversation.

The business letter having been disposed of, Sir Herbert once more took
up the childish epistle, and read it through carefully. The spelling
was somewhat quaint, but then so was the little writer, and cold and
worldly as he was, he could not fail to be touched with the sincerity
of the letter. It was as follows:—

    "DEER SIR HERBET,—pleese do not be angery with gerild, it was all my
  folt that we went into your libery and looked at the little idle what
  you wership. gerild was afrade to disobey you, only I made him come.
  Pleese let us be frends still, and we wont never do it again. Nurse is
  helping me to spell the long words, as I cant rite a letter all alone.
  Good bye sir herbet.—Yours truely, DORIS."

Somehow this letter pleased him, and he felt quite kindly disposed
towards the little writer, although her reference to the "idle"
somewhat puzzled him. He determined however to get to the root of the
matter.

"What made Doris so anxious to go into my library yesterday?" he
demanded of his nephew.

Sir Herbert required the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth, and the least deviation from this path was ever a matter of the
keenest annoyance to him.

Gerald hesitated a moment, thinking that were his uncle to know all
that Doris had said, he would indeed be angry.

His mother's precepts again seemed to ring in his ears, and truth
prevailed.

"Because, uncle, she wished to see the idol."

"How came she to know I possessed one?"

"She did not know, only 'spected it."

"But what made her suspect such an extraordinary thing?"

Sir Herbert felt that there was a mystery somehow, and he was more than
ever determined to unravel it.

"Because—" and here the boy's voice trembled a little, for fear of
the effect his words would have upon his questioner—"because her
grandfather said—"

"Said what? Speak out."

"You were a heathen."

There was perfect silence, and at length Sir Herbert, finishing his
breakfast somewhat abruptly, rose from the table; then turning to the
child, he said quite gently, "There is an old French saying, my boy,
which means, translated into English—'Do the right, come what may.' If
you continue to go on as you have begun, I shall one day be proud of my
nephew."

Gerald was utterly astounded. These were the first words of
commendation he had yet received from his uncle, and the boy, who had
expected nothing less than an outburst of wrath, in return for his
candour, was immensely relieved.

Shortly after this event, preparations were made for Sir Herbert
Weston's return to his country home, The Towers, which was situated in
a picturesque village in the county of Suffolk.

With a childish love of variety, Gerald was quite looking forward to
seeing the beautiful home, about which Mrs. Webster had told him.

His tutor was to accompany him, as Sir Herbert considered regularity in
lessons a most important part in his system of education, and he had
great faith in Mr. Marmaduke Trevor's abilities.


The first breath of autumn was in the air, and the leaves quivered on
the branches, as though they knew their summer prime was over.

In the days which followed, Gerald saw but little of his uncle, as
there were frequently large shooting parties at The Towers. Mr. Trevor
employed much of his leisure time in studying up for an examination;
thus, the boy felt his life to be somewhat of a lonely one.

His spirits, owing to the healthy life which he led, were higher than
in other days. And occasionally, he resented even Mrs. Webster's
control, although fear of his uncle made him most submissive when he
was near.

Hilda was not at all satisfied with the change in her young charge.

"He's getting that masterful, I soon shan't be able to manage him at
all," she complained to Mrs. Webster.

"Nonsense, Hilda, he is only growing a bit more 'spirity,' like other
boys. He wants companions, only of course the master thinks, and
rightly too, there are no children about here for him to associate
with." Thus spoke Mrs. Webster who had grown to love the lonely child.

And Hilda was silenced, but not convinced.

"I wish I could go fishing, Hilda," said Gerald one sunny September
morning.

"'Taint no use wishing, Master Gerald," answered the girl; "you know
the master wouldn't let you go."

"Mother would let me go if she was here."

"Pity she ain't, Master Gerald; maybe you'd be a bit more easy to
manage if she was."

"Do you think I am 'really' a naughty boy, Hilda?" inquired Gerald,
rather anxiously.

"Not exactly naughty, Master Gerald, only you are a bit too fond of
your own way."

Gerald was silent for a time, thinking out the matter. If his mother
were but near, he thought, how he would fling his arms around her neck,
and tell her he had tried to be good, only somehow it was so hard.

Never once had he forgotten his prayers, and it was a well-known fact
in the household that "Master Gerald spoke the truth," but the little
lad had yet to learn the fact that whatever might happen, God was
watching over him.

The foregoing conversation took place in the orchard, under an old
spreading tree, where a swing was placed. This was a very favourite
spot of Gerald's, and he spent much of his leisure time there.

"Don't your little brothers go fishing?" he inquired, returning to the
first subject of conversation.

"Yes, my brother Bob is a real good little fisherman."

"How does he manage it, Hilda?"

"Well, he has a rod and line and a little tin of worms. Ugh! Nasty
things. He baits his hook with dough sometimes, but more often with
them wriggling worms."

To the town-bred child, the idea of a rod and line and a day's fishing
seemed the most perfect enjoyment possible, and his enthusiasm reached
such a pitch that he determined to ask his uncle to let him go.

"No, certainly not," was the crushing reply when he proffered his
request. "That's how your father fooled away his time, as a young man.
Stick to your lessons, boy; they are better for you than fiddling with
a rod and line."

Never dreaming but that he would be implicitly obeyed, Sir Herbert
thought no more of the matter.


A week passed away, and to Gerald's delight, his old friend Mr. Wilfrid
Sharpe came down to see his uncle, and lunched at The Towers.

The old lawyer complimented Sir Herbert on the appearance of the child,
and indeed Gerald Weston looked a very different specimen from the
pale-faced boy he had met only a few months previously.

"He looks well, certainly," said Sir Herbert, with a pleased expression
on his face.

It was Saturday afternoon, and therefore a half-holiday, and Gerald,
thinking that his uncle and Mr. Sharpe would be engaged in business
matters, considered his opportunity had arrived at last for a fishing
expedition.

Already, without saying a word to anyone, he had bought himself a
little rod and line with his pocket money.

The worms, however, had been a more difficult matter, but Jones the
gardener had managed this, after a little persuasion. Thus equipped
with all the necessaries for juvenile fishing, Gerald crept by stealth
out of the garden gate, and making his way through the meadows, he soon
reached the stream where the fish were swimming merrily, unconscious of
their fate.

Several other lads, whose ages varied from eight to twelve, were
there already, and Gerald, joining the little party, soon commenced
operations.

To his intense delight, he caught several perch and gudgeon, during the
happy hours-which followed.

At length, feeling both tired and hungry, he began to think of tea-time.

Sir Herbert and Mr. Sharpe were wending their way across the meadows
deep in conversation.

"Yes, Sharpe," Sir Herbert was saying, in a smoothly complacent tone of
voice, "the boy will do; he has the making of a man in him. He has more
'grit' than his father ever had, and I have fully decided to make him
my heir."

"I'm right glad, Sir Herbert," answered the lawyer. "I took to the
child from the first. He has grown into a noble-looking boy, and
certainly does you infinite credit."

"Yes," said the baronet, with a smile of self-satisfaction. "I am quite
satisfied with my method of training; he is ever most obedient and
submissive to my will."

At this moment, turning a corner of the meadow, Sir Herbert and Mr.
Sharpe came suddenly upon the little group of fishermen.

"I've caught another!" cried a clear young voice, in a tone of ecstasy.

Alas! In a moment Sir Herbert recognised it to be that of his young
nephew.

Suddenly catching sight of the two gentlemen, Gerald let fall his rod
and line (from which dangled a poor helpless little gudgeon), and grew
white to the lips, convicted of an act of wilful disobedience.



CHAPTER IV.

"PROFESSOR" WRAGGS, THE SHOWMAN.

"MY orders, Mrs. Webster, are to be obeyed."

"But, sir, doesn't it seem a little hard?"

"Hard, or otherwise, my will is law; till my return, Master Weston
is to remain a prisoner in his room. His meals may be served in the
dining-room as usual, but I forbid one member of my household to hold
conversation with him, save yourself." And with a haughty expression on
his face, Sir. Herbert abruptly turned away.

The carriage which was to convey him to the station already stood at
the gate. It was the evening of the same day on which Gerald had so
grievously offended, and Sir Herbert was on the point of returning to
town with Mr. Sharpe on an important matter of business. The lawyer
saw that it was of little use to plead for the lad, but Gerald, now
bitterly repentant, begged to be forgiven.

"I cannot forgive you yet, Gerald," he said, as he coldly repulsed him,
"neither shall I be able to trust you again. When I return on Monday, I
shall decide on what punishment to inflict."

"I don't want to be shut up alone, uncle. I can't bear it," half sobbed
the child. "Won't you forgive me this once?"

As though scorning the boy's distress, he utterly ignored his plea, and
Gerald's heart grew hard within him.

Mr. Sharpe, who was a witness of the scene, forbore to make any remark,
but his heart was sore for the unhappy child.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Punch and Judy Showman and his wife were at tea, and right well
were they enjoying the meal.

"Season pretty well over now," said the man, "Professor" Wraggs, as he
styled himself; "guess we'll have to make a move soon."

"Bless you, Bob! There are plenty of people down at the sea yet. We
made a tidy little sum yesterday; you ain't content with your mercies."

"Well, old gal, I daresay you're right. Here, Toby!—" This was
addressed to the show dog—"You must have your share."

And so saying, he threw a choice morsel to the clever little animal,
whose daily performance at a certain sea-side town on the Suffolk
coast, was the delight of a crowd of children.

"Hullo! Little chap, what do you want?" said the "Professor" to a
tired-looking boy of about nine years of age, who stood for a moment
watching them.

[Illustration: "HULLO! LITTLE CHAP, WHAT DO YOU WANT?"]

"I'm hungry, that's all," answered the lad, rather wearily.

"Hungry! What, with them nice clothes on yer!" said the man in surprise.

"Lo! Bob, he can't eat his clothes. Come here, little chap," added
the woman, addressing the child, "I'll give you a slice of bread and
butter; after that, you can run home to your ma."

"I can't, she's too far away, and I've nobody to care for me now."

The boy, who was none other than Gerald Weston, munched his bread and
butter as if it were the choicest delicacy he had ever eaten, and well
he might, for it was many hours since he had tasted a good meal.

The woman gazed at the boy with an expression almost amounting to
tenderness. Only the week before, the worthy couple had followed their
only son, a lad of about Gerald's age, to the quiet cemetery, and
something about his face reminded her of the child she had lost. A
whispered consultation then followed between the husband and wife.

"Just the very thing!" murmured the showman, eyeing the boy up and
down, as he sat there enjoying his bread and butter.

Presently the woman said aloud, "How would you like to stay with us, my
boy; we'll give you a home and shelter."

Gerald's eyes sparkled, and without waiting to think a second time, he
accepted the offer.

"But what about mother?" thought the child a minute later. "I will
write her a letter, to tell her where I am. And perhaps when she knows
all, she will come and fetch me."

And in due time the letter was written, but his mother, an English
governess in a continental city, never received that childish effusion,
for Mrs. Wraggs, to whom it was given to post, forgot all about doing
so, and the unfortunate missive was lost amongst the stage properties
of the Punch and Judy Show.



CHAPTER V.

THE MISSING CHILD.

"WHAT is the matter, Sir Herbert? I fear you've had bad news."

"Good heavens! Sharpe, it's appalling."

The baronet stood with an open telegram in his trembling hand, with a
look of fear and dread in his eyes.

"The west wing of The Towers was partially destroyed by fire last
night, and Gerald is missing. And I left him in anger!" said Sir
Herbert in acute distress.

Mr. Sharpe was greatly shocked, but equal to the occasion. He rung the
bell imperatively, and gave orders for a cab to be brought round at
once. A few hours later, and the two gentlemen were on the scene, where
the conflagration had taken place.

"What has become of my nephew?" sternly demanded Sir Herbert of the
housekeeper.

"Heaven only knows, sir," said the woman, with the tears streaming down
her face. "We made every effort to save him. At the first outbreak of
fire, I went to his room, which, as you know, sir, was in the west
wing. Already it was filling with smoke, and I feared he must be
suffocated. But he was nowhere to be seen, search as we might—for we
all did our utmost, sir, indeed, we did, when we knew his little life
was in danger. It is feared that he was overcome by the smoke on the
landing, and—"

Good Mrs. Webster's sobs checked her further utterance, but Sir Herbert
had heard enough to fear the worst, and he groaned in his despair. For
though he knew it not, the child had grown into his heart and life.

The overheating of a flue was said to be the cause of the fire, which
but for its comparatively early discovery, would have wrought even
greater damage to the ancestral home of Sir Herbert Weston. The shock
proved to be more than he knew how to bear, and for some days the
baronet was too seriously indisposed to do more than lie passive in the
doctor's hands.

The terrible fate which he feared had overtaken the child, and remorse
for the hardness with which he had treated him, weighed upon Sir
Herbert so terribly that for a time the good doctor was afraid lest
his brain should be affected, and he advised a complete change for his
patient, as soon as he should be well enough to travel.


To account for Gerald's disappearance, we must return to the Sunday
which followed the day whereon he had so grievously displeased his
uncle. The lad's high spirit chafed against the punishment accorded to
him, and upon thinking the matter over, he made up his mind that when
opportunity occurred, he would leave The Towers secretly, and for ever.

Mrs. Webster, who sincerely pitied the child, despite his disobedience,
kissed him that night with more tenderness than usual, and the kindness
touched his heart. Leaning his head on her shoulder, he broke into a
passion of sobs.

"I can't be good here, without mother; I'm growing worser every day.
Oh! If only Uncle Herbert would send me back to her again."

"Come, Master Weston, my dear, this won't do; you must be a good boy,
for your mother's sake. You know it was really very naughty of you to
disobey the master; wasn't it now?"

"I suppose it was, only I don't seem to care," said the boy, in
reckless abandonment of grief.

"Yes, yes, my laddie, you 'do' care," answered the good woman gently.

"If Uncle Herbert was only as kind to me as you are, I would always be
a good boy, but—"

Mrs. Webster, fearful of another outburst of tears, softly interrupted
him,—

"It is time now for you to say your prayers, my dear, and then you must
go to sleep. When your uncle comes home on Monday, you will be able to
tell him how sorry you are, and he will forgive you right enough."

With a more cheerful tone than her convictions warranted, Mrs. Webster
left her young charge, settled as she thought for the night.

But Gerald had other plans, for an hour or two later, he slipped
quietly out of bed. And hastily dressing himself, he made his simple
preparations for departure.

Taking his little purse, which contained just one half-crown, he
managed with great caution to leave the house unobserved. It was
moonlight, therefore the night to the solitary child was robbed of its
terrors. He made his way across the meadows, tramping on and on till
he was both footsore and weary. The plans which he had formed in his
childish mind were these: To make his way to the station about three
miles distant, and take a ticket there for the sea-side town of A.
which was the nearest watering-place to the village where The Towers
was situated.

In his ignorance, he imagined that once by the sea-side, he would have
no difficulty in finding a steamer which would bear him across the
Channel. As regarded the payment of his passage, he fondly hoped that
by referring the captain to his mother's address, which he carried in
his pocket, all would be well.

"Mother will pay him all right," thought he.

Alas! Poor Gerald had much to learn in worldly wisdom.

How silent it all was in the peaceful September moonlight. The birds
long ago were hushed to sleep, and only the winds whispered in the
leafy branches. The stars gleamed faintly in the cloud-flecked sky,
overcome by the brilliance of the great round moon.

Gerald at length, becoming too tired to proceed on his journey, sat
down beneath an old tree, and leaned his head against the trunk.

The heavy eyelids would fain have closed in sleep, but with an effort,
he roused himself. It seemed to his overwrought imagination that the
twinkling stars looked down upon him with reproving gaze, and this,
added to the feeling of utter desolation, brought the bitter tears to
his eyes. How dreary his young life seemed to him now that his mother
was so far away; he almost cherished reproachful thoughts of her—no one
cared, no one was near to love and protect him.

"Remember that God loves you, and is watching over you!"

With a mysterious power, his mother's words again seemed to ring in his
ears.

"God was watching over him! Could it be possible that He, whose Throne
was in Heaven, amid the holy angels, was looking down upon him in love
and pity? Surely not in 'love,' for he had been so naughty." Thus
reasoned the desolate child.

Then feeling his utter need of 'some' one to care for him, his cry went
up beyond the shadows of earthly night, to Him who is the Friend of
little children.

    "O God!" he pleaded. "I am afraid to go back. I know I've been wicked,
  but please forgive me, and take care of me, for Jesus' sake. Amen."

It seemed to him that after his prayer, the stars looked at him more
kindly. And in a very few minutes, the tired child was fast asleep.


When he awoke, the sun had already mounted the heavens, and at first
Gerald wondered what had happened, and how he came to be out of doors,
with a green field for his resting-place.

Then it all flashed upon him, and vigorously rubbing his eyes, he arose
from his mossy couch, feeling slightly stiff but considerably refreshed
by his long sleep. Then he trudged on, making his way to the nearest
station. On his arrival there, he was conscious of feeling very hungry,
and spent part of his small store in buying himself a roll and a cup of
coffee at a stall close by the station, which was opened early for the
benefit of workmen.

After breakfast, he took his ticket for A., and a train being due for
that place, in a very short time the boy was on his way thither.

Gerald had never known the delights of a sea-side holiday, and the
glorious expanse of water sparkling in the sunshine was a revelation to
him. Once there, he very soon made his way down to the beach, where the
sight of the children at play with spade and pail amused him so much
that for a while he forgot his troubles. Towards mid-day he began to
feel hungry again, and remembering he had but one solitary half-penny
left in his purse, after paying his fare, he pondered in his mind the
best method of spending it.

He arrived at the conclusion that a bun would be his best purchase, so
seeking out a baker's shop, he bought himself the necessary article.

The afternoon was a dreary one for him; his penniless condition made
him feel for the first time how foolish as well as wrong he had been
in running away from the home his uncle had provided for him. He would
gladly have gone on to the pier, to watch for the steam-boats, but he
had not the wherewithal to do so, and neither had he the courage to
face any captain with his request.

Feeling both sad and forlorn, Gerald walked aimlessly to the farther
end of the beach, where, as we already know, he was soon befriended by
the Punch and Judy Showman and his wife.



CHAPTER VI.

DISCOVERY.

"HOW do-do, do-do, do-do?" shrieked out the unmusical voice of Mr.
Punch, who came proudly to the front, decked in his gold and spangled
attire. "Don't yer know me, my little dog Toby?"

Toby, befrilled and unmuzzled, gazed upon Punch with seeming
indifference, and then upon the assembled crowd, as much as to say:
"Did you ever see such a silly old thing in your life?"

"Shake hands, Toby!" echoed the shrill voice again.

Toby's paw was held out obediently. "Now the other one, Toby!
Beautiful! Beautiful!" cried Mr. Punch in rapture, winking one of his
great eyes, and forthwith embracing the clever little doggie.

To Gerald, the Punch and Judy Show was most enthralling, and the
kindness he received from the hands of the good proprietor and his
wife, justified all the golden opinions he had formed of them.

Finding the boy's manner and appearance a great source of profit to
their coffers—for few could resist the lad as he came round with the
little collecting bag—they tried to make the life as attractive as
possible to him. But try as they would, there was much in it that
jarred against Gerald's sensibilities, and he occasionally longed for
the refined surroundings of his uncle's home.

The novelty of his existence very soon wore off, and though he did
not care to show his reluctance, he grew at last to hate the task of
collecting the money.

After he had been about ten days with "Professor" Wraggs and his wife,
a delightful event took place. He was going round as usual, during the
performance, with his bag, when a clear young voice fell upon his ear.

"Uncle Wilfrid," said a child, on the verge of the crowd, "dear Uncle
Wilfrid, do stop and see the Punch and Judy Show!"

"'You' may, little one, if you like. Nurse will take care of you, while
I go to buy a paper. I'll soon be with you again," answered Uncle
Wilfrid.

And Doris Maxwell, to whom the sad story of Gerald's supposed fate had
never been told, for fear of the shock it would give the tender little
heart, watched the performance, with her merry brown eyes twinkling
with fun.

Gerald saw with great surprise that his little friend Doris was amongst
the audience, but not caring to be recognised in his new position,
turned his back upon the pretty child and her nurse.

"May I give that boy with the bag my fripenny-piece, Nurse?"

"A penny is quite enough, dearie," said Nurse, with an air of wisdom.

Not waiting for the boy's approach, she slipped away from her nurse,
and was about to drop the silver coin—for Doris was self-willed as
ever—into the bag, when glancing up, she saw the face of her friend and
former playmate, Gerald Weston.

"Gerald, oh, Gerald!" she cried in surprised delight.

The boy turned crimson with shame at the recognition, although he felt
a keen sense of pleasure in again seeing his little friend.

But business was business, and Mrs. Wraggs noticed that something
unusual had taken place, and that the attention of some of the
bystanders was diverted from the Show. This could not be allowed to go
on, and calling the boy to her side, she took the collecting bag out
of his hand and bade him remain at the back of the Show, whilst she
undertook his duties. With a lingering look at Doris, he obeyed.

A few minutes later, Mr. Sharpe appeared upon the scene, and to him
Doris told her story.

"Impossible, my dear, impossible!" he said, though wherefore he dared
not tell her.

"But, uncle, I know it was Gerald." And in distress at his unbelief,
the child's eyes filled with tears.

At the conclusion of the Show, Mr. Sharpe, at his little niece's urgent
request, made the acquaintance of the "Professor," desiring to see the
lad whose business it was to collect the money. And feeling it was
useless to deny the wish of such an important looking gentleman, the
man gave Gerald a call.

"Gerry, my lad, you're wanted!"

The similarity of the names gave Mr. Sharpe a slight shock. Could it be
possible that Doris was right after all? The boy, who was standing at
some little distance, obeyed the call. Upon seeing Mr. Sharpe, he gave
a glad look of recognition, but the eyes, instead of looking at him in
the old genial manner, had an expression of sternness therein, although
deep down in his heart the lawyer was conscious of a feeling of great
relief and thankfulness.

"You must come home with me, Gerald, at once," he said.

"Yes, yes, I will, only 'please' don't send me back to Uncle Herbert."

"We don't want to part with him, sir; he's a very good lad to us," said
Mrs. Wraggs, who had joined the little group.

"How came he to be under your care?" demanded the lawyer.

Then the whole story was truthfully told.

And Mr. Sharpe, feeling that the showman and his wife had acted the
part of Good Samaritans, acquitted them of all blame; nay more, he
amply rewarded them out of his own pocket for the care they had
bestowed upon Sir Herbert Weston's runaway heir.



CHAPTER VII.

MADAME FAIVRE.

THE Towers was in the hands of workmen, who were busy repairing the
damage wrought by the fire. In the meantime, Sir Herbert was in
town, making preparations for a foreign tour. It was already growing
autumnal; the golden September days had given place to chill October,
and Sir Herbert, feeling still somewhat of an invalid, sat by the fire,
after his solitary breakfast was over, reading a letter which, to judge
by his expression, caused him considerable agitation.

It was at this moment when a tap was heard at the door, and Mr. Sharpe
entered the room.

"You are an early visitor this morning, but none the less welcome,
Sharpe," said the baronet, with an effort at cheerfulness.

"My business was urgent, Sir Herbert, which is my only apology for
coming at this hour. You're not looking the thing—no fresh trouble, I
hope?"

"Well, perhaps not a trouble in one sense, but I have had a letter from
my sister-in-law this morning about the boy. She wants to see him. God
help me! What shall I do?"

The man in his extremity called upon the Name he had for so many long
years disregarded.

"I've never had the courage to write and tell her of her loss. I know
it was wrong, but believe me, Sharpe, I have felt too wretchedly ill,
both in mind and body, to undertake the task. I have meant to do it
each morning, but my strength has failed me. I am as weak and nerveless
as a child."

"What does his mother say?" inquired Mr. Sharpe, as he pondered in his
mind how to break the good news he had to tell.

"She says that she is able to provide a home for him now; a relative
has recently died and left her all his property—read the letter for
yourself," added Sir Herbert, as he gave the epistle into the lawyer's
hand.

"So she is coming for him at Christmas," said Mr. Sharpe, after reading
it through.

"Coming! Man, yes! But what shall I say to her? These words seem burnt
upon my brain—'Whoso shall offend one of these little ones . . . it
were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and
that he were drowned in the depth of the sea'—"

"But Gerald was greatly to blame," said Mr. Sharp, interrupting.

"I suppose in a sense he was, but what is that child's sin in
comparison with mine?"

"Would you forgive him 'fully' and 'freely' if he were here to ask you?"

"Forgive him! Would God he were here to put me to the test."

"Sir Herbert, Gerald 'is' here, and is only waiting to ask your pardon.
I left him in the hall, whilst I prepared you for his coming."

"Gerald here!" cried the man, unconsciously raising his voice.

And the little lad outside the door, thinking he was called, entered,
and Mr. Sharpe went out, and left the two together.

[Illustration: "UNCLE, DEAR UNCLE, FORGIVE ME," HALF SOBBED THE BOY.]

"Uncle, dear uncle, forgive me. I've been 'very,' 'very' naughty," half
sobbed the boy. And this time he did not plead in vain.

Words failed the baronet at that moment, but opening his arms, he drew
the agitated child closely into them, and kissed him gently, as a
tender mother might have done. From that time, the heart of Sir Herbert
Weston became soft, even as the heart of a little child.

       *       *       *       *       *

"So you really mean to leave us at Christmas, Mrs. Weston? Well, I'm
sure I don't know what Marie and Louise will say, when they hear of it!"

"You are very good, Madame, and I shall never forget the kindness
received from your hands, when I came a stranger into a foreign land."

Madame Faivre shook her head, and tears gathered in her kindly eyes.

"It is 'you' who have been good to us, dear Mrs. Weston, and may God
reward you for the wise and gentle influence you have exerted over our
unruly household—mere money can never repay you."

Poor Madame Faivre was in dire distress at the idea of parting with
her valued governess, to whom both she and her daughters had become
sincerely attached. Being herself of English birth, her affection and
sympathies were readily bestowed upon the lonely woman who had been
thus thrown upon her own resources for her daily bread.

At this moment, Marie Faivre, a bright, high-spirited girl, of about
twelve years of age, entered the room. Owing to the fact that Marie and
Louise possessed an English mother, they spoke the language fluently.

"Maman!" ejaculated Marie, seeing Madame Faivre in tears. "What 'is'
the matter?"

Then for the first time, the tidings of Mrs. Weston's intended
departure was mentioned, and Marie's blank look of dismay testified to
her feelings.

Louise, who followed Marie into the room shortly afterwards, was also
told the sad news, and she in her grief burst into sudden tears.

"Come, come, girls, we must not be selfish. Your dear Madame has no
longer any need to earn her living, and we must think of her happiness
in once more seeing her little son, and having him to live with her
again."

And Madame Faivre, as she thus spoke, briskly wiped her tears away.

Mrs. Weston, touched with their affection and kindness of heart, felt
her cup of happiness well-nigh full.

"Ah, your petit Gerald 'will' be rejoiced," said Marie gently.

"He will be just as glad as we are sorry," said poor Louise with a deep
sob.

"My 'dear' Gerald! Oh! How I long to see him," said Mrs. Weston,
forgetful for the moment of the present, as her thoughts roamed
backward to their bitter parting.

"You'll wait till Christmas, won't you?" cried Louise in selfish
affright.

"Yes, I promise you that," said Mrs. Weston, feeling that the weeks
would soon pass, and that in justice to her friends, she must give them
time to find another governess to take her place.

But alas! For the promise she had bestowed—"L'homme propose, Dieu
dispose."

The day following was a bright October morning, and Mrs. Weston (or
Madame as she was usually called), after despatching a letter to Sir
Herbert Weston to inform him of the change in her fortunes, and her
proposed return to England, sat contentedly in the cheerful schoolroom
preparing lessons.

For some weeks she had had no news of her child, but still no anxiety
concerning this fact troubled her, for her brother-in-law was a very
occasional correspondent, and seemed to desire as little communication
as possible between mother and son.

Presently upon lifting her eyes from the book she was studying,
her attention was attracted by an untidy mass of papers near the
fireplace—for Madame Faivre would have no stove in the schoolroom, but
a bright fire blazed away in true English fashion, when the chilly days
rendered it necessary.

"Rosine must have forgotten these, when she lit the fire," she said, as
she rose to ring the bell.

But ere doing so, she noticed that one was a part of an old copy of an
English daily paper. In some curiosity she glanced over the columns,
for it was a long time since it had been her lot to see a London
newspaper.

A few minutes later, when Marie entered the schoolroom, what was her
grief and consternation to see her beloved Madame in a dead faint on
the floor, still clutching in her hand the portion of newspaper.

"Maman! Maman!" cried out poor Marie. "Madame has fainted."

Louise, who was following close at hand, found it even as her sister
had said, and hastily fetching her mother, together they endeavoured to
restore the poor lady to consciousness.

Taking the paper from her hands, Madame Faivre read the paragraph which
had caused such bitter distress. It was an account of the fire at The
Towers, Sir Herbert's residence, and the supposed death of poor little
Gerald. Gradually, Mrs. Weston recovered her powers of thought, and
moaned pitifully in her distress:

"My boy! My little Gerald! Oh, God help me!" cried the unhappy mother.

"Pauvre Madame!" sobbed the girls in sympathetic grief.

"What is it, maman, that has made her so ill?" inquired Marie.

"Read the paper, mes chères, and then run away and leave me alone with
Madame."

The girls read the ill-fated paragraph with blanched faces.

"However did such a paper come into the schoolroom?" said little Louise.

"I can guess," answered Marie; "you know Rosine has an English friend,
and he must have given it to her. Oh! If only poor Madame had never
seen it."

Ere the day was out, Mrs. Weston had started on her homeward journey,
leaving behind her sad and anxious hearts.


"A telegram, maman, and for Madame," said Marie excitedly, a few hours
after Mrs. Weston's departure.

"We must open it for her, Marie, as she is not here." And so saying,
Madame Faivre with considerable anxiety read the words contained
therein.

"Come to England at once. Good news."

"We must praise the good God for this," said the lady, while tears of
joy and thankfulness rained down her cheeks. "Run and tell Louise the
glad news," added she. "Oh, if Madame could only know!"

Ah! Could Mrs. Weston but have known, much anguish of heart would have
been spared her. Meanwhile, she was making her way in bitter grief to
England, little recking of how soon her sorrow would be turned into joy.

Upon arriving in London, she telegraphed to Sir Herbert Weston at The
Towers, but the reply came to the effect that the baronet's whereabouts
were not known, and referred the sender to Mr. Wilfrid Sharpe, 18 Hope
Gardens, Sydenham.

And thither, without taking any rest, hastened the poor mother, each
step bringing her nearer—could she but have realised it—to happiness
and Gerald.



CHAPTER VIII.

REUNION.

"I HAVE despatched the telegram, Sir Herbert, and we shall very soon
have the lady in England, I fancy."

"You're a good friend Sharpe—you'll see me through this, won't you?"

"Yes, yes, Sir Herbert, only it seems to me your troubles are over now."

"No, they're not. I have to face the boy's mother, and I don't know
what she'll say to me."

"Come, come, Sir Herbert, keep up your spirit," said the lawyer,
cheerfully. "What is she like—this mother whom Gerald thinks so much
about?"

"I only remember her as a fragile looking girl of about two or three
and twenty—I haven't seen her now for some years. All our business
concerning the boy was done in writing. She was pretty, too, I fancy."

"Well, this doesn't sound very alarming. I wish you would come and
lunch with me to-day, and bring Gerald with you. Doris is staying with
me again, and is just crazy to see her Punch and Judy hero, for such
she considers the boy now."

"Perhaps the child won't appreciate lunching with 'the heathen,'" said
the baronet with a smile.

Mr. Sharpe reddened a little. "I am afraid you must have thought her
very impertinent, but believe me, she never meant it," said the lawyer
anxiously.

"Impertinent! Oh dear no, she only spoke the truth. I 'was' a heathen,
but since the boy's coming, somehow I've felt different. Yet he doesn't
look much like a missionary, does he?"

A recollection of Gerald, as he dangled the hapless little fish on his
line upon that memorable Saturday flashed across Mr. Sharpe's mind.

"No, certainly the child bore no resemblance to a missionary, and yet—"
the lawyer's face softened as he recalled a passage from Holy Writ—"'A
little child shall lead them.'"

There was a pause, which was broken by the baronet.

"Yes, Sharpe, I 'will' accept your invitation, and bring the boy with
me."

The above conversation took place in Mr. Sharpe's London office, Gerald
in the meanwhile amusing himself very contentedly talking to the chief
clerk about the fish he meant to catch when he was grown up, whilst his
elders were discussing matters of more serious moment in the little
sanctum beyond.

       *       *       *       *       *

Miss Sharpe was in quite a flutter of excitement, for the baronet was
an honoured, though somewhat unusual guest at her brother's table.
And in the pretty Sydenham villa residence, grand preparations were
speedily made for the illustrious visitor and his little nephew, Mr.
Sharpe with great worldly wisdom and forethought, having despatched a
telegram to his sister, to inform her of the expected arrivals.

Doris, looking the very pink of propriety, sat next Sir Herbert, for
whom she had conceived quite a respectful affection. Gerald, brimming
over with joy—for was not his mother coming home very soon—was in a
state of mind which bordered on transport.

Presently a loud ring was heard at the door bell, and a maid shortly
afterwards tapped at the dining-room door and informed Mr. Sharpe that
a lady desired to see him immediately.

"What name, Henderson?" inquired he.

"Mrs. Weston, please sir."

There was a sudden rush—the sound of a falling chair, and the maid was
pushed unceremoniously aside.

Then followed a cry of "Mother, mother."

And Mr. Sharpe knew that for a little while at least, his presence was
not required in the drawing-room.

Joy seldom kills, and the sight of the boy whom she believed never to
behold again with earthly eyes, was in itself such a rapture to Mrs.
Weston that she could do nothing but clasp him in her arms, asking not
the why or wherefore, whilst tears and smiles followed each other in
April-like succession. The bitter resentment she had been cherishing
against Sir Herbert for withholding the fateful news all faded away at
the sight of the little lad in his sailor suit.

The baronet presently entered the room, his calm self-possession
well-nigh deserting him.

Instead of the reproaches she had prepared herself to utter, she
grasped his hand, saying brokenly, "God bless you."

Ah, mothers are not always quite reasonable, and such sweet
inconsistency was very welcome to Sir Herbert Weston's broken and
contrite spirit.

       *       *       *       *       *

Months and years have passed away since Mrs. Weston's return to
England. It is the season of Christmas, the time of peace and goodwill.

Gerald and his mother now live together in a charming little residence
called "The Lindens," situated in close proximity to The Towers, a fact
which is largely owing to Sir Herbert's generosity. It is well-known to
those around how deeply attached the baronet is to his young nephew and
heir. And in the lad's eyes, there are few to compare with his uncle,
whom, next to his mother, he regards with deepest affection.

On the morrow, being Christmas day, there are to be great festivities
at The Towers, and amongst the invited guests, to Gerald's delight, are
Mr. Wilfrid Sharpe and little Doris Maxwell.

"Mother," said Gerald, as they sat together in the firelight listening
to the Yule-tide bells ringing out their message of peace and goodwill,
"I sometimes wonder how little boys get on without any mother to keep
them right."

Mrs. Weston rightly conjectured that his mind was reverting to the days
of the past, when he felt his need of her so sorely.

"You must not forget, my boy, that there is a Love which far exceeds
that of a mother," she answered gently.

"Oh, yes! That reminds me of what you said to me a long while ago—at
the time we bade 'good bye.'"

"I remember, Gerald—a time when you gave me a 'three-fold promise.'"



                             THE END.



                  ————————————————————————————————
              LORIMER AND GILLIES, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.






*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A THREE-FOLD PROMISE ***


    

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.


START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg
electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
    other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
    whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
    of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with this eBook or online
    at www.gutenberg.org. If you
    are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
    of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
  
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works
provided that:

    • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
        the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method
        you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
        to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has
        agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
        within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
        legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
        payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
        Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
        Literary Archive Foundation.”
    
    • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
        you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
        does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
        License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
        copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
        all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
        works.
    
    • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
        any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
        electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
        receipt of the work.
    
    • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
        distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
    

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg

Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516,
Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.