Adventures of a Despatch Rider | Page 3

what
I ought to have done?"
By this time they had reached the gate, and Ellen, drying her tears, was
soon talking almost merrily with the children, who ran up eagerly at the
sight of their former teacher. Edward had forgotten the little Guernsey
French he had once known, and stood by, glad to see his favourite
sister so happy; but wondering what pleasure she could find in talking
to a set of dirty little things like those. Captain Crawford called them
dirty, because most officers in her Majesty's service, if they think on
the subject at all, think rags and dirtiness necessary attendants on poor
children; but if Captain Crawford had looked, he would have seen as
clean and neat a flock of little ones around his sister as the United
Kingdom could produce.
Just as they were going to return to the house a man passed by, and
touched his hat to Miss Crawford in the somewhat off-hand manner
which (we must confess it) our fellow-countrymen usually employ.
Ellen stopped a moment to make some inquiries of him about his wife
and children, and then turned home-wards, saying, as she took her
brother's arm,--
"I dare say a good dinner would do that man's daughter a world of good;
she is ill, and they are very poor: but then there is no way of sending
it."
"Where do they live?" asked Edward.

"Oh, it is half-an-hour's walk: they live close to the beach."
"I'll take it," said he; and added, by way of apology, "I should rather
like a walk before dinner."
A happy gleam passed over Ellen's face, but she only said,--
"Thank you, Edward," and gave him one very bright look, when he left
her on her sofa and went to fetch some meat for the sick girl.
It was with feelings of amusement, rather than anything else, that
Edward set out on what was probably the first errand of mercy he had
ever undertaken. He had done it merely to please his sister, and could
not help laughing at the idea of what some of his brother-officers would
say if they could see Crawford of the ---- Regiment carrying food to a
sick girl. But his conversation with Ellen soon returned to his mind, and
the thought struck him, "If my good, unselfish little sister, thinks her
time and money have been wasted, what have mine been? According to
her, the sixpence which I have occasionally thrown to a beggar to quiet
my conscience was only half charity, because I did not add 'kind
words,' as she would say. But I wonder what people would say if I were
to inquire after the birth, parentage, and education of every
street-sweeper I came across? No, my vocation is to defend my Queen
and country, and not to act the charitable." Something whispered,
"Cannot you do both?" but Edward would not listen, and soon arrived
at his destination. The door was opened by the sick girl's mother, who,
with her "_Bon jour, monsieur! Entrez, s'il vous plait_," took Edward
rather by surprise, and would by no means hear of receiving the gift
outside the door. This was more than he had bargained for; he had
come on a message from Ellen, not for a charitable visit on her own
account: but there was no alternative, and go in he must. The woman
spoke a little English; and while she poured forth her gratitude to Miss
Crawford, together with a long account of her daughter's maladies,
saying so much in one breath that it became a question whether she
would ever breathe again, Captain Crawford looked at the sick girl
lying pale and thin by the fire; and when he thought how miserable her
lot was compared even with his sister's, whose sufferings were soothed
by all that affection could suggest or that money could buy, his

heart--for he had a heart, and a warm one too--was touched, and his
hand went to the waistcoat pocket where the sixpence had been
deposited in the morning. He was disappointed to find so little there,
and wondered whether it was worth giving her. "If Ellen were here to
add some of her 'kind words,'" he thought, it might do very well;
"however, I'll try."
Next time Mrs. Tourtel stopped to take breath he went and stood by the
poor girl, and said,--
"Miss Crawford is ill too and cannot come to see you, but she often
thinks of you. Perhaps this will buy you a small loaf of white bread, as
your mother says you cannot eat brown."
She only said, "_Mercie, monsieur_;" but the bright colour, which
spread itself over her pale face at the mention of Ellen's thought of her,
told Edward that he had said the right thing; and