Little Meg's Children Part 7

When little Meg came to herself again it was broad daylight, and she was lying in a room so bright and cheerful that she could neither imagine where she was nor how she came there. There was a good fire crackling noisily in the low grate, with a bra.s.s guard before it, and over the chimney-piece was a pretty picture of angels flying upwards with a child in their arms. All round the walls there hung other pictures of birds and flowers, coloured gaily, and glittering in gilded frames. Another little bed like the one she lay in stood in the opposite corner, but there was n.o.body in it, and the place was very quiet. She lay quite still, with a dreamy thought that she was somehow in heaven, until she heard a pleasant voice speaking in the next room, the door of which was open, so that the words came readily to her ears.

'I only wish we knew where the poor little thing comes from,' said the voice.

'I'm vexed I don't,' answered Mrs Blossom. 'I've asked her more than once, and she's always said it's down a street off Rosemary Lane, and along another street, and up a court. But there's a girl called Kitty living in the back attic, as takes care of the children when Meg's away. She's sure to be taking care o' them now.'

In an instant memory came back to little Meg. She recollected bending over Robin and the baby to kiss them before she came away, and locking the door safely upon them. Oh! what had become of Robbie in the night?

She raised herself up in bed, and uttered a very bitter cry, which brought to her quickly Mrs Blossom and a strange lady.

'I want Robbie,' she cried. 'I must get up and go to him directly.

It's my Robbie that's ill, and baby's dead. I'm not ill, but Robbie's ill, if he isn't dead, like baby, afore now. Please to let me get up.'

'Tell me all about it,' said Mrs Blossom, sitting down on the bed and taking Meg into her arms. 'We're in Dr Christie's house, and he'll go and see Robbie in a minute, he says.'

'Baby died yesterday morning,' answered Meg, with tearless eyes, for her trouble was too great for tears; 'and then Robbie was took ill, and I put them both in bed, and kissed them, and locked the door, and came away for a doctor, and there's been n.o.body to take care of 'em all night, only G.o.d.'

Meg's eyes burned no longer, but filled with tears as she thought of G.o.d, and she laid her head upon Mrs Blossom's shoulder, and wept aloud.

'G.o.d has taken care of them,' said Mrs Christie, but she could say no more.

'Where is it you live, deary?' asked Mrs Blossom.

'It's at Angel Court,' answered Meg. 'But there mustn't n.o.body go without me. Please to let me get up. I'm not ill.'

'You're very much bruised and hurt, my poor child,' said Mrs Christie.

'I must go,' pleaded Meg urgently, 'I must get up, I promised mother I'd never let anybody go into our room, and they mustn't go without me.

They're my children, please. If your little children were ill, you'd go to 'em wouldn't you? Let me get up this minute.'

It was impossible to withstand little Meg's earnestness. Mrs Blossom dressed her tenderly, though Meg could not quite keep back the groan which rose to her quivering lips when her bruised arm was moved. A cab was called, and then Mrs Blossom and Meg, with Dr Christie, got into it, and drove away quickly to Angel Court.

CHAPTER XII

The End of Little Meg's Trouble

It was early in the evening after Meg had gone in search of a doctor, that Kitty came home, more sober than she had been for several nights, and very much ashamed of her last outbreak. She sat down on the top of the stairs, listening for little Meg to read aloud, but she heard only the sobs and moanings of Robin, who called incessantly for Meg, without getting any answer. Kitty waited for some time, hearkening for her voice, but after a while she knocked gently at the door. There was no reply, but after knocking again and again she heard Robin call out in a frightened tone.

'What's that?' he cried.

'It's me, your own Kitty,' she said; 'where's little Meg?'

'I don't know,' said Robin, 'she's gone away, and there's n.o.body but me and baby; and baby's asleep, and so cold.'

'What are you crying for, Robbie?' asked Kitty.

'I'm crying for everything,' said Robin.

'Don't you be frightened, Robbie,' she said soothingly; 'Kitty'll stay outside the door, and sing pretty songs to you, till Meg comes home.'

She waited a long time, till the clocks struck twelve, and still Meg did not come. From time to time Kitty spoke some rea.s.suring words to Robin, or sang him some little songs she remembered from her own childhood; but his cries grew more and more distressing, and at length Kitty resolved to break her promise, and unlock Meg's door once again to move the children into her own attic.

She lit a candle, and entered the dark room. The fire was gone out, and Robin sat up on the pillow, his face wet with tears and his black eyes large with terror. The baby, which lay beside him, seemed very still, with its wasted puny hands crossed upon its breast; so quiet and still that Kitty looked more closely, and held the light nearer to its slumbering face. What could ail it? What had brought that awful smile upon its tiny face? Kitty touched it fearfully with the tip of her finger; and then she stood dumb and motionless before the terrible little corpse.

She partly knew, and partly guessed, what had done this thing. She recollected, but vaguely enough, that one of her companions, who had grown weary of the little creature's pitiful cry, had promised to quiet it for her, and how speedily it had fallen off into a profound, unbroken slumber. And there it lay, in the same slumber perhaps. She touched it again; but no, the sleep it slept now was even deeper than that--a sleep so sound that its eyelids would never open again to this world's light, nor its sealed lips ever utter a word of this world's speech. Kitty could scarcely believe it; but she could not bear to stay in that mute, gentle, uncomplaining presence; and she lifted up Robin to carry him into her own room. Oh that G.o.d had but called her away when she was an innocent baby like that!

Robin's feverishness was almost gone; and now, wrapped in Kitty's gown and rocked to sleep on her lap, he lay contented and restful, while she sat thinking in the dark, for the candle soon burned itself out, until the solemn grey light of the morning dawned slowly in the east. She had made up her mind now what she would do. There was only one more sin lying before her. She had grown up bad, and broken her mother's heart, and now she had brought this great overwhelming sorrow upon poor little Meg. There was but one end to a sinful life like hers, and the sooner it came the better. She would wait till Meg came home and give up Robin to her, for she would not hurry on to that last crime before Meg was there to take care of him. Then she saw herself stealing along the streets, down to an old pier she knew of, where boats had ceased to ply, and where no policeman would be near to hinder her, or any one about to rescue her; and then she would fling herself, worthless and wretched as she was, into the rapid river, which had borne so many worthless wretches like her upon its strong current into the land of darkness and death, of which she did not dare to think. That was what she would do, saying nothing to any one; and if she could ask anything of G.o.d, it would be that her mother might never find out what had become of her.

So Kitty sat with her dark thoughts long after Angel Court had awakened to its ordinary life, its groans, and curses, and sobs; until the sun looked in cheerily upon her and Robin, as it did upon Meg in Mrs Christie's nursery. She did not care to put him down, for he looked very pretty, and happy, and peaceful in his soft sleep, and whenever she moved he stirred a little, and pouted his lips as if to reproach her. Besides, it was the last time she would hold a child in her arms; and though they ached somewhat, they folded round him fondly. At last she heard a man's step upon the ladder mounting to the attics, and Meg's voice speaking faintly. Could it be that her father was come home at last? Oh! what would their eyes see when they opened that door? Kitty held her breath to listen for the first sound of anguish and amazement; but it was poor little Meg's voice which reached her before any other.

'Robbie! oh, Robbie!' she cried, in a tone of piercing terror, 'what has become of my little Robbie?'

'He's safe, he's here, Meg,' answered Kitty, starting to her feet, and rus.h.i.+ng with him to Meg's attic.

It was no rough, weather-beaten seaman, who was just placing Meg on a chair, as if he had carried her upstairs; but some strange, well-clad gentleman, and behind him stood an elderly woman, who turned sharply round as she heard Kitty's voice.

'Posy!' cried Mrs Blossom.

No one but her own mother could have known again the bright, merry, rosy girl, whom the neighbours called Posy, in the thin, withered, pallid woman who stood motionless in the middle of the room. Even Meg forgot for a moment her fears for Robin. Dr Christie had only time to catch him from her failing arms, before she fell down senseless upon the floor at her mother's feet.

'Let me do everything for her,' exclaimed Mrs Blossom, pus.h.i.+ng away Dr Christie; 'she's my Posy, I tell you. You wouldn't know her again, but I know her. I'll do everything for her; she's my girl, my little one; she's the apple of my eye.'

But it was a very long time before Mrs Blossom, with Dr Christie's help, could bring Posy to life again; and then they lifted her into her poor bed, and Dr Christie left her mother alone with her, and went back to Meg. Robin was ailing very little, he said: but the baby? Yes, the baby must have died even if little Meg had fetched him at once.

Nothing could have saved it, and it had suffered no pain, he added tenderly.

'I think I must take you two away from this place,' said Dr Christie.

'Oh, no, no,' answered Meg earnestly; 'I must stay till father comes, and I expect him to-day or to-morrow. Please, sir, leave me and Robbie here till he comes.'

'Then you must have somebody to take care of you,' said Dr Christie.

'No, please, sir,' answered Meg, in a low and cautious voice, 'mother gave me a secret to keep that I can't tell to n.o.body, and I promised her I'd never let n.o.body come into my room till father comes home. I couldn't help you, and Mrs Blossom, and Kitty coming in this time; but n.o.body mustn't come in again.'

'My little girl,' said Dr Christie kindly, 'I dare say your mother never thought of her secret becoming a great trouble to you. Could you not tell it to me?'

'No,' replied Meg, 'it's a very great secret; and please, when baby's buried like mother, me and Robbie must go on living here alone till father comes.'

'Poor child!' said Dr Christie, rubbing his eyes, 'did you know baby was quite dead?'

'Yes,' she answered, 'but I didn't ask G.o.d to let baby live, because mother said she'd like to take her with her. But I did ask Him to make Robin well, and bring back Posy; and now there's nothing for Him to do but let father come home. I knew it was all true; it's in the Bible, and if I'm not one of G.o.d's own children, it says, "Them that ask Him."

So I asked Him.'

Meg's voice sank, and her head dropped; for now that she was at home again, and Robin was found to be all right, her spirit failed her. Dr Christie went out upon the landing, and held a consultation with Mrs Blossom, in which they agreed that for the present, until Meg was well enough to take care of herself, she should be nursed in Kitty's attic, with her own door kept locked, and the key left in her possession. So Dr Christie carried Meg into the back attic, and laid her upon Kitty's mattress. Kitty was cowering down on the hearth, with her face buried on her knees, and did not look up once through all the noise of Meg's removal; though when her mother told her what they were doing she made a gesture of a.s.sent to it. Dr Christie went away; and Mrs Blossom, who wanted to buy many things which were sorely needed in the poor attic, put her arm fondly round Kitty's neck.

'Posy,' she said, 'you wouldn't think to go and leave little Meg alone if I went out to buy some things, and took Robin with me?'

'No, I'll stop,' said Kitty, but without lifting her head. When they were alone together, Meg raised herself as well as she could on the arm that was not hurt, and looked wistfully at Kitty's bowed-down head and crouching form.