Part 3 (1/2)

Good Mrs. Newton was much better in health, and used to walk about sometimes without any support but f.a.n.n.y's arm, and so time went on till f.a.n.n.y came to be about fifteen; and then Mrs. Newton, who was not always free from ”doubt and sorrow,” began to think what was to become of her if she were to die.

So one day, when kind Mr. Walton, whom f.a.n.n.y used once to call the fat gentleman, came in to see her, Mrs. Newton told him that she was beginning to feel anxious that f.a.n.n.y should be put in a way of earning her own bread, in case she should be taken from her.

Mr. Walton listened to her, and then he said,--

”You are very right and prudent, Mrs. Newton, but never mind that; I have not forgotten my little flower-girl, and her race after me that hot morning; if you were dead, I would take care of her; and if we both were dead, Mrs. Walton would take care of her; and if Mrs.

Walton were dead, G.o.d would take care of her. I see you cannot yet learn the little lines she is so fond of--

”'Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, G.o.d provideth for the morrow.'”

Well, not very long after this conversation came a very warm day, and in all the heat of the sun came Mr. Walton, scarcely able to breathe, into Mrs. Newton's cottage; he was carrying his hat in one hand, and a newspaper in the other, and his face was very red and hot.

”Well, Mrs. Newton,” said he, ”what is all this about?--I can't make it out; here is your name in the paper!”

”My name, sir!” said Mrs. Newton, staring at the paper.

”Aye, indeed is it,” said Mr. Walton, putting on his spectacles, and opening the paper at the advertis.e.m.e.nt side,--”see here!”

And he began to read,--

”If Mrs. Newton, who lived about fifteen years ago near the turnpike on the P-- road, will apply to Messrs. Long and Black, she will hear of something to her advantage. Or should she be dead, any person who can give information respecting her and her family, will be rewarded.”

Mrs. Newton sat without the power of speech--so much was she surprised; at last she said, ”It is f.a.n.n.y's father!--I know, I am sure it can be no one else!”

Mr. Walton looked surprised, for he had never thought of this; he was almost sorry to think his little flower-girl should have another protector. At length he said it must be as Mrs. Newton thought, and he would go up to London himself next day, and see Mr. Long and Mr.

Black. So he went; and two days afterwards, when f.a.n.n.y had returned from Mrs. Walton's school, and was sitting with Mrs. Newton in the little shady arbor they had made in the garden, and talking over early days, when they used to sit in another arbor, and f.a.n.n.y used to learn her first lessons from flowers, then came Mr. Walton walking up the path towards them, and with him was a fine-looking man, of about forty-five years of age.

Mrs. Newton trembled, for when she looked in his face she remembered the features; and she said to herself, ”Now, if he takes my f.a.n.n.y from me?--and if he should be a bad man?” But when this man came nearer, he stepped hastily beyond Mr. Walton, and catching Mrs.

Newton's hands, he was just going to drop on his knees before her, when he saw f.a.n.n.y staring at him; and a father's feelings overcame every other, and with a cry of joy he extended his arms, and exclaiming ”my child!'--my child!” caught her to his breast.

Then there followed so much talk, while no one knew scarcely what was saying; and it was Mr. Walton, chiefly, that told how f.a.n.n.y's father had had so much to struggle against, and so much hards.h.i.+p to go through, but how he had succeeded at last, and got on very well; now he had tried then to find out Mrs. Newton and his dear little f.a.n.n.y, but could not, because Mrs. Newton had changed her abode; how, at last, he had met with a good opportunity to sell his land, and had now come over with the money he had earned, to find his child, and repay her kind benefactor.

Oh, what a happy evening was that in the widow's cottage! the widow's heart sang for joy. The widow, and she that had always thought herself an orphan, were ready to sing together--

”Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, G.o.d provideth for the morrow.”

Mrs. Newton found that Mr. Marsden, that was the name of f.a.n.n.y's father, was all that she could desire f.a.n.n.y's father to be:--a Christian in deed and in truth; one thankful to G.o.d and to her, for the preservation and care of his child; and who would not willingly separate f.a.n.n.y from her, or let her leave f.a.n.n.y.

As he found Mrs. Newton did not wish to leave kind Mr. Walton's neighborhood, and that his daughter was attached to it also, Mr.

Marsden took some land and a nice farm-house, not far from the Manor House, where Mr. Walton lived. He had heard all about the half- sovereign, and loved his little flower-girl before he saw her.

So Mrs. Newton had to leave her widow's house; and she shed tears of joy, and regret, and thankfulness, as she did so; she had been happy there, and had had G.o.d's blessing upon her and her dear girl.

But f.a.n.n.y was glad to receive her dear, dear grandmother into her own father's house; her own house too; and she threw her arms round the old lady's neck, when they got there, and kissed her over and over again, and said, ”Ah! grandmother, do you recollect when I was a little girl tying up my flowers while you lay sick in bed, I used to say so often--

”'Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, G.o.d provideth for the morrow.'”