The Christmas Child Part 3

"Oh! yes, yes, my darling!" cried Aunt Priscilla, falling on her knees--"you and me are reconciled, and G.o.d 'ill be reconciled to us both. We are both sinners; but He'll forgive both you and me."

"And my baby," whispered Rhoda again, slowly moving one of her wasted arms to put it round him, and gazing mournfully into her aunt's face.

"I'll take care of him," she answered; "G.o.d has sent him and Joan to me, and I'll take care of them for His sake. I took care of you for my own sake, Rhoda."

There was a faint smile on Rhoda's face; and her eyelids closed again, as if she was too weak to keep them open longer. By-and-by there came into the quiet room the sound of distant voices, and Aunt Priscilla crept noiselessly downstairs and across the fold to the gate, to tell Nathan what had happened and to bring them all into the house quietly.

That New Year's Day was as strangely happy a day to Joan as the Christmas Day before it had been. She never left the room where Rhoda was lying; for Rhoda could not bear her to go out of sight, and only seemed content while she could watch her nursing the baby, in her old-fas.h.i.+oned, motherly manner. As Joan sat on a low rocking-chair, lulling him to sleep with s.n.a.t.c.hes of hymns, and soothing him tenderly if he began to cry, Rhoda's eyes shone with a tender light, though the tears dimmed them at times. It was a peaceful, tranquil day, with few words spoken by anyone. Aunt Priscilla's step had never been so quiet, or her voice so gentle; and she seemed to Joan to be quite a different person.

When the short afternoon was over, and Nathan's work was done, he came upstairs to visit Rhoda. She had been as dear to him as his own child; and as he took her small, withered hand in his, his dim old eyes grew dark with tears.

"I saw you every day twice," she said, pausing often for breath; "I was hiding in the barn. I hid myself on Christmas Eve among the straw--like Joan and me used to do for fun--and I laid the baby asleep in the manger--for Joan to find; and I saw her come, and heard her sing--I was watching her and you. And after that I couldn't go away; there was nowhere and n.o.body to go to; and I stayed hiding in the barn. But I was very cold and miserable; I was frightened of dying there in the barn.

And in the night I came close to the house--to look for food--and hearken if I could hear the baby. I'm not frightened or miserable now."

"Never mind the trouble now, Rhoda," said old Nathan. "Your aunt's forgiven you, and taken you home again; and G.o.d, He'll forgive us all, and take us home again some day. Think o' getting well and strong again, my poor la.s.s."

"Not me," murmured Rhoda, faintly; "it's best for me to die, I know.

Baby 'll be happier without me. I couldn't play with him and make him merry. Joan 'ill be as a little mother to him, won't you, Joan? I'm going to give him to you for your very own."

"For my very own!" repeated Joan, with wondering, wide-open eyes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: NATHAN CAME UPSTAIRS TO VISIT RHODA]

"Ay! if aunty will let me," answered Rhoda, smiling; "she 'll love the baby, I know, now she's reconciled to me. Nathan, she forgives me, and G.o.d forgives me. I'm not unhappy any more."

"Rhoda, my la.s.s," said old Nathan, "thy aunt 'ill never be happy no more, if thou dies. She's pardoned thee with all her heart; and thou must try to live, and pay her back. Tell me where thou 's been all this long while."

For a few minutes Rhoda lay silent, with a look of pain on her young, pale face.

"I dare n't ever have spoke to aunty," she murmured at last, "she's so bitter against marrying. And so I ran away, and we were married at Bristol; and then we went to London; and Evan deserted me before baby was born. I couldn't find him again anywhere in London; and it was a dreadful place to stay in without money, and no home. He hadn't been good to me for a long while before he left me. I've been a very wicked girl, but I've been sorely punished for it, Nathan; and I'd rather die now, I think, than get well again."

"My poor la.s.s!" answered old Nathan, pitifully, "say, 'Let it be as G.o.d pleases.'"

"Let it be as G.o.d pleases!" repeated Rhoda, in her faint, hollow voice.

Never could anyone be better nursed than Rhoda was nursed. Aunt Priscilla watched over her day and night, hardly taking rest, and sleeping only a few minutes at a time. No noise was permitted about the farm that could disturb her; only the old, familiar sounds of cattle lowing, and sheep bleating, and the cackling of barn-door fowls, which were as soothing as pleasant music to her ears. Joan and the baby were always in sight; except when they were sleeping in a little bed on the floor, near at hand, that she might never feel any fear concerning them. Every morsel of food she ate was prepared by Aunt Priscilla herself, who would not trust even Nurse Williams to do anything for Rhoda.

For a few days it was very doubtful whether she could recover from the cold and hunger and weariness she had endured; but by-and-by there came a slight change, and by the time the spring began there was no longer any fear of her dying.

But Rhoda was never the same again. Her pretty looks were gone, and so were her merry ways. She was a quiet and grave woman now; often sad.

Year after year went by, and she heard nothing of the husband who had deserted her. Her aunt found her more of a companion than she had ever been before; and they two, with old Nathan, gleaned all the brightness of their lives from Joan and the baby.

The old farmstead was a happier home for Joan than it had ever been for Rhoda. She had few indulgences, but she had the baby, the wonderful child whom she had found lying in the manger on Christmas Day.

By-and-by, as she grew older, she understood Rhoda's sorrowful story, and how it was he had been laid there in order that she might find him.

But every Christmas morning she stole early across the fold, and into the silent and empty shed, as if to seek the Christmas child; and when the baby was old enough she took him with her, and told him how she had found him there, and knew he was come to bring

Peace on earth and mercy mild, G.o.d and sinners reconciled.