Part 34 (1/2)

”Oh, doctor,” said Esther, ”father's lying here, very much injured; and they think he'll die,” said she, giving way to a fresh burst of grief.

”Very much injured--die--how is this?--I knew nothing of it--I haven't been here before this week.”

Esther hereupon briefly related the misfortunes that had befallen her father.

”Dear me--dear me,” repeated the kind old doctor.

”There, my dear; don't fret--he'll get better, my child--I'll take him in hand at once. My dear Mrs. Ellis, weeping won't do the least good, and only make you sick yourself. Stop, do now--I'll go and see him immediately, and as soon as possible you shall be admitted.”

They had not long to wait before a message came from Doctor Burdett, informing them that they could now be permitted to see the sufferer.

”You must control yourselves,” said the doctor to the sobbing women, as he met them at the door; ”you mustn't do anything to agitate him--his situation is extremely critical.”

The girls and their mother followed him to the bedside of Mr. Ellis, who, ghastly pale, lay before them, apparently unconscious.

Mrs. Ellis gave but one look at her husband, and, with a faint cry, sank fainting upon the floor. The noise partially aroused him; he turned his head, and, after an apparent effort, recognized his daughters standing beside him: he made a feeble attempt to raise his mutilated hands, and murmured faintly, ”You've come at last!” then closing his eyes, he dropped his arms, as if exhausted by the effort.

Esther knelt beside him, and pressed a kiss on his pale face.

”Father!--father!” said she, softly. He opened his eyes again, and a smile of pleasure broke over his wan face, and lighted up his eyes, as he feebly said, ”G.o.d bless you, darlings! I thought you'd never come. Where's mother and Caddy?”

”Here,” answered Esther, ”here, by me; your looks frightened her so, that she's fainted.” Doctor Burdett here interposed, and said: ”You must all go now; he's too weak to bear more at present.”

”Let me stay with him a little longer,” pleaded Esther.

”No, my child, it's impossible,” he continued; ”besides, your mother will need your attention;” and, whilst he spoke, he led her into an adjoining room, where the others had preceded her.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Charlie Distinguishes Himself.

Charlie had now been many weeks under the hospitable roof of Mrs. Bird, improving in health and appearance. Indeed, it would have been a wonder if he had not, as the kind mistress of the mansion seemed to do nought else, from day to day, but study plans for his comfort and pleasure. There was one sad drawback upon the contentment of the dear old lady, and that was her inability to procure Charlie's admission to the academy.

One morning Mr. Whately called upon her, and, throwing himself into a chair, exclaimed: ”It's all to no purpose; their laws are as unalterable as those of the Medes and Persians--arguments and entreaty are equally thrown away upon them; I've been closeted at least half a dozen times with each director; and as all I can say won't make your _protege_ a shade whiter, I'm afraid his admission to the academy must be given up.”

”It's too bad,” rejoined Mrs. Bird. ”And who, may I ask, were the princ.i.p.al opposers?”

”They all opposed it, except Mr. Weeks and Mr. Bentham.”

”Indeed!--why they are the very ones that I antic.i.p.ated would go against it tooth and nail. And Mr. Glentworth--surely he was on our side?”

”He!--why, my dear madam, he was the most rabid of the lot. With his sanctified face and canting tongue!”

”I'm almost ashamed to own it--but it's the truth, and I shouldn't hesitate to tell it--I found the most pious of the directors the least accessible; as to old Glentworth, he actually talked to me as if I was recommending the committal of some horrid sin. I'm afraid I shall be set down by him as a rabid Abolitionist, I got so warm on the subject. I've cherished as strong prejudices against coloured people as any one; but I tell you, seeing how contemptible it makes others appear, has gone a great way towards eradicating it in me. I found myself obliged to use the same arguments against it that are used by the Abolitionists, and in endeavouring to convince others of the absurdity of their prejudices, I convinced myself.”

”I'd set my heart upon it,” said Mrs. Bird, in a tone of regret; ”but I suppose I'll have to give it up. Charlie don't know I've made application for his admission, and has been asking me to let him go. A great many of the boys who attend there have become acquainted with him, and it was only yesterday that Mr. Glentworth's sons were teasing me to consent to his beginning there the next term. The boys,” concluded she, ”have better hearts than their parents.”

”Oh, I begin to believe it's all sham, this prejudice; I'm getting quite disgusted with myself for having had it--or rather thinking I had it. As for saying it is innate, or that there is any natural antipathy to that cla.s.s, it's all perfect folly; children are not born with it, or why shouldn't they shrink from a black nurse or playmate? It's all bosh,”

concluded he, indignantly, as he brought his cane down with a rap.

”Charlie's been quite a means of grace to you,” laughingly rejoined Mrs.