The One Moss-Rose | Page 5

little girl's bantams.--Come, Jim, speak up, and tell the squire all about it."
"Ay, speak up and excuse yourself, you young rascal, if you can," said the angry squire; "and if you can't, you'll soon find your way into the inside of a prison for this. Talk of poaching! what is it to an assault upon the person?"
"I will speak up, then, your honour, since you wish it," said Jim Meyers, "and I'll tell the whole truth of how this came about." And then he told the whole story of the young squire having wanted to buy the bantams, and on his not being permitted to do so, of his endeavouring to take them by force. "And when I wouldn't let him carry away my sister's birds, he flew on me like a game cock, and in self-defence I struck him as I did."
"You said I murdered Jacob Dobbin," interrupted James Courtenay.
"Yes, I did," answered Jim Meyers, "and all the country says the same, and I only say what every one else says; ask anybody within five miles of this, and if they're not afraid to speak up, they'll tell just the same tale that I do."
"Murdered Jacob Dobbin!" ejaculated the squire in astonishment; "I don't believe my son ever lifted a hand to him,--you mean the crippled boy that died some time ago?"
"Yes, he means him," said Jim Meyers' father; "and 'tis true what the lad says, that folk for five miles round lay his death at the young squire's door, and say that a day will come when his blood will be required of him."
"Why, what happened?" asked the squire, beginning almost to tremble in his chair; for he knew that his son was given to very violent tempers, and was of a very arbitrary disposition; and he felt, moreover, within the depths of his own heart, that he had not checked him as he should. "What is the whole truth about this matter?"
"Come, speak up, Jim," said old Meyers; "you were poor Jacob's friend, and you know most about it;" the squire also added a word, encouraging the lad, who, thus emboldened, took courage and gave the squire the whole history of poor Jacob Dobbin's one moss-rose. He told him of the cripple's love for the plant, and how its one and only blossom had been rudely snatched away by the young squire, and how poor Jacob burst a blood vessel and finally died.
"And if your honour wants to know what became of the tree, you'll find it planted in the young squire's garden," added Jim, "and the gardener will tell you how it came there."
The reader will easily guess what must have been the young squire's feelings as he heard the whole of this tale. Several times did he endeavour to make his escape, under the plea that he was in great pain from his face, and once or twice he pretended to faint away; but his father, who, though proud and irreligious, was just, determined that he should remain until the whole matter was searched out.
When Jim Meyers' story was ended, the squire bade him go into the servants' hall, and his father also, while old Dobbin was sent for; and as to James, his son, he told him to go up to his bed-room, and not come down until he was called.
Poor old Leonard Dobbin was just as much frightened as Jim Meyers and his father had been, at the summons to attend the squire. He had a clear conscience, however; he felt that he had not wronged the squire in anything; and so, washing himself and putting on his best Sunday clothes, he made his way to the Hall as quickly as he could.
"Leonard Dobbin," said the squire, "I charge you, upon pain of my worst displeasure, to tell me all you know about this story of your late son's moss-rose tree. You need not be afraid to tell me all; your only cause for fear will be the holding back from me anything connected with the matter."
Leonard went through the whole story just as Jim Meyers had done; only he added many little matters which made the young squire's conduct appear even in a still worse light than it had already done. He was able to add all about his poor crippled boy's forgiveness of the one who had wronged him, and how he had himself wheeled the rose tree up to the squire's door, and how it was now to be found in the young squire's garden. "And if I may make so bold as to speak," continued old Leonard, "nothing but true religion, and the love of Christ, and the power of God's Spirit in the heart, will ever make us heartily forgive our enemies, and not only forgive them, but