The One Moss-Rose | Page 3

a little time after, found him lying senseless upon the ground. The neighbouring doctor was sent for, and he gave it as his opinion that Jacob could never get over this attack. "Had it been an ordinary case," said the doctor, "I should not have apprehended a fatal result; but under present circumstances I fear the very worst; poor Jacob has not strength to bear up against this loss of blood."
For many days Jacob Dobbin lay in a darkened room, and many were the thoughts of the other world which came into his mind; amongst them were some connected with the holy martyrs. "Father," said he to his aged parent as he sat by his side, "I have been learning a lesson about the martyrs. I see now how unfit I was to be tried as they were; if I could not bear the loss of one moss-rose patiently for Christ's sake, how could I have borne fire and prison, and such like things?"
"Ah, Jacob," said the old man, "'tis in little common trials such as we meet with every day, that, by God's grace, such a spirit is reared within us as was in the hearts of the great martyrs of olden time;--tell me, can you forgive the young squire?"
"The blessed Jesus forgave his persecutors," whispered Jacob faintly, "and the martyrs prayed for those who tormented them--in this at least I may be like them. Father, I do forgive the young squire; and, father," said Jacob, as he opened his eyes after an interval of a few minutes' rest, "get your spade, and dig up the tree, and take it with my duty to the young squire. Don't wait till I'm dead, father; I should not feel parting with it then; but I love the tree, and I wish to give it to him now. And if you dig up a very large ball of earth with it, he can have it planted in his garden at once; and--;" but poor Jacob could say no more; he sank back quite exhausted, and he never returned to the subject again, for in a day or two afterwards he died.
* * * * *
When old Leonard Dobbin appeared at the great house with his wheel-barrow containing the rose tree and its ball of earth, there was no small stir amongst the servants. Some said that it was fine impudence in him to come troubling the family about his trumpery rose, bringing the tree, as if he wanted to lay Jacob Dobbin's blood at their young master's door; others shook their heads, and said it was a bad business, and that that tree was an ugly present, and one that they should not care to have; and as to old Aggie, she held her tongue, but prayed that the child she had reared so anxiously might yet become changed, and grow up an altered man.
Old Leonard could not get audience of the squire or his son; but the gardener, who was in the servants' hall when he arrived with his rose, told him to wheel it along, and he would plant it in Master James's garden, and look after it until it bloomed again; and there the rose finally took up its abode.
Meanwhile the young squire grew worse and worse; he respected no one's property, if he fancied it himself; and all the tenants and domestics were afraid of imposing any check upon his evil ways. He was not, however, without some stings of conscience; he knew that Jacob Dobbin was dead--he had even seen his newly-made grave in the churchyard on Sunday; and he could not blot out from his memory the distress of poor Jacob when last he saw him alive; moreover, some of the whisperings of the neighbourhood reached his ears; and all these things made him feel far from comfortable.
As day after day passed by, James Courtenay felt more and more miserable: a settled sadness took possession of his mind, varied by fits of restlessness and passion, and he felt that there was something hanging over him, although he could not exactly tell what. It was evident, from the whispers which had reached his ears, that there had been some dreadful circumstances connected with poor Jacob Dobbin's death, but he feared to inquire; and so day after day passed in wretchedness, and there seemed little chance of matters getting any better.
At length a change came in a very unexpected way. As James Courtenay was riding along one day, he saw a pair of bantam fowls picking up the corn about a stack in one of the tenants' yards. The bantams were very handsome, and he felt a great desire to possess them; so he dismounted, and seeing the farmer's son hard by, he asked him for how much