Chapter VII

JIM BLEWETT VISITS THE BLUNDELLS, AND INTERFERES IN THEIR CONCERNS

CLEAR and bright dawned Christmas morning, and the bells from the churches rang out their joyful notes, calling all the world to come and worship the newborn King, the Prince of Peace. It was a very quiet day for the Blundells. A neighbour came in to sit with Annie, to enable Mrs. Blundell and Maggie to attend the morning service at church. It was the same church where Mrs. Metherell worshipped; and after the service was over, they had a few words with the kind little woman.

Mrs. Metherell was in capital spirits, for she had received loving remembrances from her children, and a present of a warm Shetland shawl from her favourite lodger.

"It is pleasant to be remembered at Christmas," she said brightly. "One of my sons is an engineer settled in Hull, and the other's a clerk in a shipping office in Liverpool. Both are married and have families, but they don't forget their old mother. My only daughter's married too, and living in Dublin: she would like me to live with her, but I think a young couple's best alone. So you see I've no near relations in London, and I sometimes feel a bit lonesome. Your relatives live in the country, I suppose, Mrs. Blundell?"

"Yes, ma'am—many miles away."

When they had parted from Mrs. Metherell, Maggie turned to her mother, and asked curiously: "Have we any relations, mother?"

"Yes, my dear."

"They never write to us, mother?"

"Never."

A cloud seemed to have overshadowed the mother's face, and she sighed. She was unusually quiet all the rest of the day, though the children found so much to talk about, and when they had fallen asleep that night, she still sat on by the scanty fire, deep in thought.

By-and-by she roused herself, and fetched writing materials, and tried to write a letter. It was evidently a difficult task, for after writing a few halting lines, she put down her pen, and covering her face with her hands wept bitterly.

"Oh!" she sobbed, "if father would only forgive me for the children's sake!"

She turned to her letter again, but she could not express in words the feelings of her heart, and at last she laid down her pen in despair. The next few days passed uneventfully; but one evening there was a knock at the door of the Blundells' home, and Maggie, who hastened to answer it, exclaimed as she peeped out:

"Oh, sir! Oh, mother! It's Mr. Blewett!"

The medical student came in, and with that adaptability which promised to do much towards making him a popular doctor some day, soon made himself at home. Mrs. Blundell stood by smiling as he talked to her little girls, his keen eyes fixed on Annie, in whose case he already felt an interest.

"Do you never get up, little one?" he asked.

"Never, sir. But I am not lonely now I have Rose."

"I am glad you find her companionable." Then, turning to the mother, he remarked:

"She had an accident, I think you said?"

"Yes, sir. Her spine was injured. I have not been able to afford a doctor lately, but—"

"Will you allow me to make an examination? I am a medical student, and interested in spinal complaints."

Mother and child both consented, and Jim proceeded to examine the little girl's back most carefully.

"There!" he said at last. "I don't think I've hurt you much, have I? Mrs. Blundell, I should like our senior house surgeon to see your little girl. He's very clever. You could not have a better man for the case."

"But, sir, I am not able to pay—"

"There will be no question of payment. May I bring him? I see I may. He's such a good fellow, and used to be a personal friend of my poor father's."

"Your poor father, sir? Why do you say poor?"

"It's a way one has of speaking of the dead. My father died three years ago, and my mother a few months before; but," he said, noticing that there were tears in Mrs. Blundell's eyes, "you did not know them!"

"Yes, sir, indeed I did, if your father was the Vicar of R—, in Cornwall!"

"He was. And you?"

"I was parlour-maid in your family for five years. You were a little boy then, sir, but I dare say, when I tell you what my name was, you'll remember it."

"How strange! I thought when I came in that your face was familiar to me, and I felt certain you came from Cornwall by your speech, and your children have a touch of the dialect, too."

"It comes from being so much with me, I suppose, sir. I was Dinah Mudford before I married."

"Old John Mudford's daughter? Why, of course, I remember now! I saw your father only last summer, and had a long chat with him. He's a hale, hearty man for his years."

Jim Blewett cast a discerning glance around the wretched garret, for he knew that Mrs. Blundell's father was a man counted well off for his position in life. He had by hard work and frugality raised himself from a labouring man to be the owner of a small dairy farm; therefore, it seemed almost incredible that his daughter should be in needy circumstances.

Mrs. Blundell saw and comprehended the meaning of the look on the young man's face, and when he took his leave, she followed him downstairs, and explained to him how she had married against her father's consent, and he had accordingly declined to have anything more to do with her.

"Many's the time I've longed and prayed for his forgiveness," she said sadly, "for I was a bad girl, sir, and wilfully disobeyed him. The misery my marriage brought me, I cannot tell you, and I don't wish to speak ill of the dead. My husband turned out as my father told me he would, only I wouldn't listen to him, and that's why I've been ashamed to write to him. If I had, I don't suppose it would have been any good, for father was always hard and unforgiving."

"He may have been once, but that he certainly is not now. He is a sincere Christian, and I am certain if you appealed to him he would assist you!"

"Father a Christian!" she exclaimed in accents of amazement.

"Indeed he is. I do not know how the change came about, but it is a fact. Write to him, and await results."

With this advice Jim Blewett departed, and Mrs. Blundell returned to her children, who were full of eager questions about the grandfather of whom they had never heard before; and the mother smiled almost hopefully as she answered, for the news she had heard had considerably lightened her heart.

"To think that father, who was always so hard and stern, should be a Christian!" she thought; "although I don't know why it should be so wonderful after all. It is God's work, and marvellous in our eyes because we can't understand how He brings things to pass. What a Christmas this has been! To think the children's 'kind gentleman' should turn out to be 'little Master Jim,' as we used to call him. I knew him at once; he has his father's kind eyes, and yet, he reminds me of his mother too!"

Meanwhile, Jim Blewett had returned to his lodgings, his mind full of the visit he had just paid. The evident poverty and want of Mrs. Blundell and her children appealed forcibly to his sympathy, and he could not help contrasting the anxious, careworn mother with the handsome girl he remembered as Dinah Mudford. He recalled having heard that old John Mudford's daughter had made an unfortunate marriage, and he thought it more than likely that the father knew nothing of his daughter's position.

"I've a great mind to write to the old man myself," he thought. "It may do some good, and I do not see that it can possibly do any harm. Poor woman! She needs help badly, and who should give it if not her father? That little sick girl, too! I've a notion something might be done for her!"

To think was to act with Jim Blewett, and sitting down, he drew pen, ink, and paper towards him. His pen flew swiftly over the paper, and in ten minutes he had plainly stated the circumstances of the case, and boldly said he considered it was John Mudford's duty to provide for his widowed daughter and her children.

Having finished his letter, he went out and posted it.

"There!" he said, as he dropped it into the letter box. "I'm interfering with other people's business again; but I think my father would have done the same."

On his return home he sought Mrs. Metherell, and told her who Mrs. Blundell was, and how he had acted. The good lady threw up her hands in astonishment as she exclaimed:

"Good gracious, Mr. Blewett! I never heard anything like it in my life! It's Providence, sir, that's what it is! First your meeting Maggie and giving her that doll; then my party, and you and the child both being there; and now her mother recognising you! There's no such thing as chance, sir; we walk on blindly trying to feel our way, and all the time there's a hand that's guiding our footsteps, though we mayn't realise it at the time!"

"Do you think I have done wisely in writing to the old man?" he asked, a trifle anxiously.

"Well, sir," was the laconic reply, "we'll wait and see."