The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reade (most interesting books to read .TXT) π
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- Author: Charles Reade
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βNay. I ont my mammy. Where is my mammy?β
(Oh! what it cost poor Margaret not to burst in and clasp him to her heart!)
βWell, fret not, sweetheart, mayhap she will come when thou art asleep. Wilt thou be good now and sleep?β
βI not eepy. Ikes to talk.β
βWell, talk we then; tell me thy pretty name.β
βBaby.β And he opened his eyes with amazement at this great hulking creature's ignorance.
βHast none other?β
βNay.β
βWhat shall I do to pleasure thee, baby? Shall I tell thee a story?β
βI ikes tories,β said the boy, clapping his hands.
βOr sing thee a song?β
βI ikes tongs,β and he became excited.
βChoose then, a song or a story.β
βTing I a tong. Nay, tell I a tory. Nay, ting I a tong. NayβAnd the corners of his little mouth turned down and he had half a mind to weep because he could not have both, and could not tell which to forego. Suddenly his little face cleared: βTing I a tory,β said he.
βSing thee a story, baby? Well, after all, why not? And wilt thou sit o' my knee and hear it?β
βYea.β
βThen I must e'en doff this breastplate, 'Tis too hard for thy soft cheek. So. And now I must doff this bristly cilice; they would prick thy tender skin, perhaps make it bleed, as they have me, I see. So. And now I put on my best pelisse, in honour of thy worshipful visit. See how soft and warm it is; bless the good soul that sent it; and now I sit me down; so. And I take thee on my left knee, and put my arm under thy little head; so, And then the psaltery, and play a little tune; so, not too loud.β
βI ikes dat.β
βI am right glad on't. Now list the story.β
He chanted a child's story in a sort of recitative, singing a little moral refrain now and then. The boy listened with rapture.
βI ikes oo,β said he, βOt is oo? is oo a man?β
βAy, little heart, and a great sinner to boot.β
βI ikes great tingers. Ting one other tory.β
Story No. 2 was Chanted.
βI ubbs oo,β cried the child impetuously, βOt caft(3) is oo?β
βI am a hermit, love.β
βI ubbs vermins. Ting other one.β
But during this final performance, Nature suddenly held out her leaden sceptre over the youthful eyelids. βI is not eepy,β whined he very faintly, and succumbed.
Clement laid down his psaltery softly and began to rock his new treasure in his arms, and to crone over him a little lullaby well known in Tergou, with which his own mother had often sent him off.
And the child sank into a profound sleep upon his arm. And he stopped croning and gazed on him with infinite tenderness, yet sadness; for at that moment he could not help thinking what might have been but for a piece of paper with a lie in it.
He sighed deeply.
The next moment the moonlight burst into his cell, and with it, and in it, and almost as swift as it, Margaret Brandt was down at his knee with a timorous hand upon his shoulder.
βGERARD, YOU DO NOT REJECT US, YOU CANNOT.β
(1) More than one hermit had received a present of this kind. (2) Query, βlooking glass.β (3) Craft. He means trade or profession.CHAPTER XCV
The startled hermit glared from his nurseling to Margaret, and from her to him, in amazement, equalled only by his agitation at her so unexpected return. The child lay asleep on his left arm, and she was at his right knee; no longer the pale, scared, panting girl he had overpowered so easily an hour or two ago, but an imperial beauty, with blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes, and lips sweetly parted in triumph, and her whole face radiant with a look he could not quite read; for he had never yet seen it on her: maternal pride.
He stared and stared from the child to her, in throbbing amazement.
βUs?β he gasped at last. And still his wonder-stricken eyes turned to and fro.
Margaret was surprised in her turn, It was an age of impressions not facts, βWhat!β she cried, βdoth not a father know his own child? and a man of God, too? Fie, Gerard, to pretend! nay, thou art too wise, too good, not to haveβwhy, I watched thee; and e'en now look at you twain! 'Tis thine own flesh and blood thou holdest to thine heart.β
Clement trembled, βWhat words are these,β he stammered, βthis angel mine?β
βWhose else? since he is mine.β
Clement turned on the sleeping child, with a look beyond the power of the pen to describe, and trembled all over, as his eyes seemed to absorb the little love.
Margaret's eyes followed his. βHe is not a bit like me,β said she proudly; βbut oh, at whiles he is thy very image in little; and see this golden hair. Thine was the very colour at his age; ask mother else. And see this mole on his little finger; now look at thine own; there! 'Twas thy mother let me weet thou wast marked so before him; and oh, Gerard, 'twas this our child found thee for me; for by that little mark on thy finger I knew thee for his father, when I watched above thy window and saw thee feed the birds.β Here she seized the child's hand, and kissed it eagerly, and got half of it into her mouth, Heaven knows how, βAh! bless thee, thou didst find thy poor daddy for her, and now thou hast made us friends again after our little quarrel; the first, the last. Wast very cruel to me but now, my poor Gerard, and I forgive thee; for loving of thy child.β
βAh! ah! ah! ah! ah!β sobbed Clement, choking. And lowered by fasts, and unnerved by solitude, the once strong man was hysterical, and nearly fainting.
Margaret was alarmed, but having experience, her pity was greater than her fear. βNay, take not on so,β she murmured soothingly, and put a gentle hand upon his brow. βBe brave! So, so. Dear heart, thou art not the first man that hath gone abroad and come back richer by a lovely little self than he went forth. Being a man of God,
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