amoment later Flo was by his side.
There were plenty of people, and idle people too, in the streets, but,strange to say, no one noticed the child and dog, and they passed ontheir way in safety. A few moments' walking brought them to DuncanStreet, then to their own cellar, down the ladder of which Scamp trottedwith a happy, confident air.
Flo followed him feebly, and tottering across the floor, threw herselfon her straw bed. Not another step could she go. She was much hurt;she was in severe pain.
Was her foot broken? Hardly that, or she could not have walked at all,but her present agony was so great, that large drops stood on her brow,and two or three sharp cries came from her patient lips.
How she longed for Dick then, or Jenks then, or Janey then. Yes, shehad Scamp, and that was something--Scamp, who was lying abject by herside, pouring out upon her a whole wealth of love, who, knowing what shehad done for him, would evermore do all that dog could do for her sake.She raised her hand to his head and patted him, glad, very glad that shehad rescued him from an unknown but dreadful fate.
But she wanted something else, something or some one to give her ease inher terrible agony, and God, her loving Father, looking down fromheaven, saw His little child's sore need, and though as yet He sent herno earthly succour, He gave to her the blessed present relief ofunconsciousness. Flo fainted away.
When she recovered an hour or two later, the scanty light that everpenetrated into the cellar had departed, and at first, when the childopened her eyes in the darkness, pain and memory of all recent eventshad completely left her. She fancied she was lying again by hermother's side on that very straw mattress, she stretched out her arms toembrace her, and to ask her the question with which she had greeted herfor the last three months of her life.
"Be yer werry tired, mother?"
But then the empty place, the straw where the weary form was no longerlying, brought back remembrance; her mother was not there--her motherwas gone. She was resting in her quiet grave, and could never help, orsuccour, or protect her more.
But then again her thoughts were broken. There were rude noisesoutside, a frightened cry from Scamp at the foot of the bed, the cellardoor was violently opened, two men scrambled down the ladder, and withmany oaths and curses began tossing about the wretched furniture, andcalling loudly for the missing dog.
Where was he? Not on Flo's bed, which they unmercifully raked about,unheeding her moans of pain; not anywhere apparently. Vowing vengeanceon _whoever_ had stolen the dawg, the men departed at last.
Then again all was silence, and in a few moments a cowed-looking anddecidedly sooty animal might, had any light been there to see, have beenobserved descending from the chimney where he had lain _perdu_.
Of the life-preserving qualities Scamp possessed a large share, asdoubtless before this his story proves.
Perhaps his cur mother had put him up to a wrinkle or two in hisbabyhood; at any rate, fully determined was he to meet no violent end,to live out his appointed time, and very clever were the expedients heused to promote this worthy object.
Now he shook himself as free as he could of the encumbrances he had metwith in the smoky, sooty chimney, and again approached Flo's side.
She laid her hand on his head, praised him a little for the talent hehad shown in again escaping from Maxey, and the dreadful fate to whichMaxey meant to consign him; then the two lay quiet and silent.
A child and a dog!
Could any one have looked in on them that night they would have saidthat in all the great city no two could be more utterly alone andforsaken.
That individual, whoever he might have been, would have gone away with awrong impression--they were not so.
Any creature that retains hope, any creature that retains faith, whichis better, than hope, cannot be really desolate.
The dog had all the large, though unconscious faith of his kind in hisCreator. It had never occurred to him to murmur at his fate, to wishfor himself the better and more silken lives that some dogs live. Tolive at all was a blessed thing, to love at all a more blessed thing--helived and he loved--he was perfectly happy.
And the child--for the first time she knew of and had faith in a DivineFather, she had heard of some one who loved her, and who would make allthings right for her. She thought of this love, she pondered over it,she was neither desolate nor unhappy. God and God's Son loved her, andloved Dick--they knew all about her and Dick; and some day their Fatherwould send for them both and give them a home in His House in Heaven.
Flo had at all times a vivid imagination, since her earliest days it hadbeen her dear delight to have day dreams, to build castles in the air.No well-dressed or happy-looking child ever crossed her path that shedid not suppose herself that child, that she did not go through in fancythat child's delightful life. What wardrobes had Flo in imagination,what gay trinkets adorned her brow, her arms, her neck!
What a lovely house she lived in, what heaps of shillings and sovereignsshe possessed! Now and then, in her moments of most daring flight, shehad even a handle to her name, and people addressed her as "Lady Flo."But all the time, while happy in these dreams, she had always known themto be but dreams. She was only Flo, working as a translator of oldboots and shoes, down in a dark cellar--she had no fine dresses, nopretty ornaments, no money, she was hungry and cold, and generallymiserable, and as far as she could possibly see there was never anychance of her being anything else.
She generally came down from her high imaginings to this stern reality,with a great burst of tears, only one sad thought comforting her, to bealive at all she could never be worse than she was, she could never sinkany lower.
She was mistaken.
Last night, lying all alone and waiting for Dick's trial, lying hourafter hour hoping and longing for sleep to visit her, and hoping andlonging in vain, she had proved that she was mistaken. Lower depths ofsorrow and desolation could be reached, and she had reached them.Through no fault of hers, the stern hand of the law was stretched out tograsp her one treasure, to take her brother away.
Dick had broken a promise sealed on dying lips--Dick was a thief.Henceforth and for ever the brand of the prison would be on him.
When, their punishment over, he and Jenks were free once again, nothingnow, no power, or art, or persuasion, on her part could keep those twoapart. Together they would plunge into deeper and more daring crime,and come eventually to the bad and miserable end her mother had so oftendescribed to her. It was plain that she and Dick must separate.
When the boys were released from prison, it was plain that she and theycould not live together as of old. The honest could not live with thedishonest. Her mother had often told her that, had often warned her tobe sure, happen what might, to choose honest companions. So Flo knewthat unless _she_ too broke her word to mother, they must part--Dick andshe must part. And yet how much she loved him--how much her mother hadloved him!
He was not grave like her; he had never carried an old head on youngshoulders; he was the merriest, brightest, funniest boy in the world--one of those throw-all-care-to-the-winds little fellows, who invariablygive pleasure even in the darkest and most shady homes. His elasticspirits never flagged, his gay heart never despaired, he whistled overhis driest crusts, he turned somersaults over his supperless hours--hehad for many a day been the light of two pairs of eyes. True, he hadoften been idle, and lately had left the brunt of the daily labour, ifnot all of it, to Flo. But the mother heart of the little sister, whowas in reality younger than himself, accepted all this as a necessity.
Was he not a boy? and was it not one of the first laws of nature thatall girls should work and all boys should play?
But now Dick must work with the hard labour the law accords to itsprisoners. That bright little face must look out behind a prisoner'smask, he must be confined in the dark cell, he must be chained to thewhipping-post, he must be half-starved on bread and water. Out ofprison he was half his time without the former of these necessities oflife, and at his age
he would not be subjected to hard labour.
But Flo knew nothing of these distinctions, and all the terrible storiesshe had ever heard of prisoners she imagined as happening to Dick now.So the night before the trial had been one long misery to the sensitive,affectionate child.
Now the trial was over, now Dick was really consigned to prison, or towhat seemed to Flo like prison. With their eyes they had said good-byeto each other, he from the prisoners' dock, she from her place in thewitnesses' box. The parting was over, and she was lying alone in herdark cellar, on her straw pallet, bruised, hurt, faint, but strange tosay no longer unhappy, strange to say happier than she had ever been inher life before.
She had often heard of bright things--she had often imagined brightthings, but now for the first time she heard of a bright thing for her.
She was not always to be in pain, she had heard to-day of a place withno pain; she was not always to be hungry, poor, and in rags--she hadheard to-day of food enough and to spare, of white dresses, of a homemore