and mother forsook the dog, and the blueblood of some unknown ancestor, some brave, self-sacrificing SaintBernard, flowed through all his veins: his angry spirit leaped into hiseyes, and giving vent to a great howl of rage and sorrow, he wrenchedhis chain out of the man's hand who was trying to hold him, andspringing on the first of the kneeling figures, fastened his great fangsinto his throat. In an instant all would have been over with thisruffian, for Scamp had that within him then which would have preventedhis ever leaving go, had not the man's companion raised an enormoussledge hammer he held in his hand, and beat out the poor animal's brainson the spot. He sank down without even a sigh at Flo's feet, and thethree villains, hearing from some one that the police were coming,disappeared with their booty, leaving the unconscious child and dead dogalone.
The little crowd which had surrounded them, at tidings of the approachof the police, dispersed, and the drifting hail and snow covered thedog's wounds and lay on the child's upturned face.
Just then a fire-engine, drawn by horses at full gallop, came round thecorner, and the driver, in the fast-failing light, never, until toolate, perceived the objects in his path. He tried then to turn aside,but one heavy wheel passed partly over the child's body. The firemencould not stop, their duty was too pressing, but they shouted out to thetardy policemen, who at last appeared in view.
These men, after examining Flo, fetched a cab, and placing her in it,conveyed her to the London Hospital, and one, at parting, gave Scamp akick.
"Dead! poor brute!" he said, and so they left him.
They left him, and the pure snow, falling thickly now, formed a fitcovering for him, and so heavily did it lie over him in the drift intowhich he had fallen, that the next day he was shovelled away, a frozenmass, in its midst, and no mortal eye again saw him, nor rough mortalhand again touched him.
Thus God Himself made a shroud for His poor faithful creature, and theworld, did it but know it, was the poorer by the loss of Scamp.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
QUEEN VICTORIA AND FLO.
Flo was carried into the Buxton Ward for children.
They laid her in one of the pretty white cots, close to a little girl ofthree, who was not very ill, and who suspended her play with her toys towatch her.
Here for many hours she lay as one dead, and the nurses and doctorsshook their heads over her--she had no broken bones, but they fearedserious internal injuries.
Late in the evening, however, she opened her eyes, and after about anhour of confused wandering, consciousness and memory came fully back.
Consciousness and memory, but no pain either of mind or body. Even whenthey told her her dog was dead, she only smiled faintly, and said sheknew 'ee'd give 'is life fur 'er! and then she said she was better, andwould like to go home.
They asked her her name, and the address of her home, and she gave themboth quite correctly, but when they said she had better stay until themorning, and go to sleep now, she seemed contented, and did sleep, ascalmly as she had done the night before, in her own little bed, in MrsJenks' room.
The next morning she again told them she was better, and had no pain,but she said nothing now about going home: nor when, later in the day,Mrs Jenks, all trembling and crying, and Miss Mary, more composed, butwith her eyes full of sorrow, bent over her, did she mention it.
She looked at them with that great calm on her face, which nothing againseemed ever to disturb, and told them about Scamp, and asked them ifthey thought she should ever see her dog again.
"I don't know wot belief to hold about the future of the dumbcreatures," said little Mrs Jenks, "but ef I was you, I'd leave it toGod, dearie."
"Yes," answered Flo, "I leaves heverythink to God."
And when Miss Mary heard her say this, and saw the look on her face, shegave up all hope of her little servant.
She was going to the place where _His servants shall serve Him_.
Yes, Flo was going to God.
The doctors knew it--the nurses knew it--she could not recover. What abright lot for the little tired out London child! No more weary tasks--no more dark days--no more hunger and cold. Her friends had hoped andplanned for a successful earthly life for her--God, knowing theuncertainty of all things human, planned better. He loved this fairlittle flower, and meant to transplant it into the heavenly garden, tobloom for ever in His presence.
But though Flo was not to recover she got better, so much better, forthe time at least, that she herself thought she should get quite well;and as from the first she had suffered very little pain, she oftenwondered why they made a fuss about her, why Mrs Jenks seemed so upsetwhen she came to see her, why the nurses were so gentle with her, andwhy even the doctors spoke to her in a lower, kinder tone than they didto the other children. She was not very ill; she had felt much, muchworse when she had lain on the little bed that God had lent her--whatagony she had gone through then! and now she was only weak, and herheart fluttered a good deal. There was an undefined something she feltbetween her and health, but soon she must be quite well.
In the pleasant Buxton Ward were at this time a great many littlechildren, and as Flo got better and more conscious, she took an interestin them, and though it hurt her and took away her breath to talk much,yet her greatest pleasure was to whisper to God about them. There wasone little baby in particular, who engrossed all her strongest feelingsof compassion, and the nurses, seeing she liked to touch it, oftenbrought it, and laid it in her cot.
Such a baby as it was! Such a lesson for all who gazed at it, of themiseries of sin, of the punishment of sin!
The child of a drunken mother, it looked, at nine months old, about thesize of a small doll. Had any nourishment been ever poured down thatbaby's throat? Its little arms were no thicker than an ordinaryperson's fingers--and its face! Oh! that any of God's human creaturesshould wear the face of that baby!
It was an old man's face, but no man ever looked so old--it was amonkey's face, but no monkey ever looked so devoid of intelligence. Allthe pain of all the world seemed concentrated in its expression; all thewrinkles on every brow were furrowed on its yellow skin.
It was always crying, always suffering from some unintelligible agony.[The writer saw exactly such a baby at the Evelina Hospital a short timeago.] The nurses and doctors said it might recover, but Flo hopedotherwise, and her hope she told to God.
"Doesn't you think that it 'ud be better fur the little baby to be upthere in the Gold Streets?" she said to God, every time she looked atit. And then she pictured to herself its little face growing fair andbeautiful, and its anguish ceasing for ever--and she thought if she wasthere, what care she would take of the baby.
Perhaps she does take care of the baby, up There!
One day great news came to the London Hospital--great news, and greatexcitement. It was going to be highly honoured. Her gracious Majestythe Queen was coming in person to open a new wing, called The GrocersCompany's Wing.
She was coming in a few days, coming to visit her East-end subjects, andin particular to visit this great Hospital.
Flo, lying on her little bed, weaker than usual, very still, with closedeyes, heard the nurses and sisters talking of the great event, theirtones full of interest and excitement--they had only a short time toprepare--should they ever be ready to receive the Queen?--what wardswould she visit? with a thousand other questions of considerableimportance.
Flo, lying, as she did most of her time, half asleep, hardly ever heardwhat was going on around her, but now the word Queen--Queen--struck onher half dull ear.
What were they saying about the Queen? Who was the Queen? Had she everseen the Queen? Then like a flash it all came back to her--that hotafternoon last summer--her ambitious little wish to be the greatestperson of all, her longing for pretty sights and pretty things, thehurried walk she, Jenks, and Dick had taken to Buckingham Palace, thecrowd, the sea of eager faces, the carriage with its out-riders, theflashing colour of the Life Guards! Then, all these seemed to fadeaway, and she saw only the
principal figure in the picture--the graciousface of a lady was turned to her, kind eyes looked into hers. Theremembrance of the glance the Queen had bestowed upon her had neverpassed from the little girl's memory. She had treasured it up, as shewould a morsel of something sacred, as the first of the many brightthings God had given her. Long ago, before she knew of God, she hadheld her small head a trifle higher, when she considered that onceRoyalty had condescended to look at her, and she had made it a freshincentive to honesty and virtuous living.
A thrill of joy and anticipation ran now through her heart. How _much_she should like to see again the greatest woman in the world; if hereyes again beheld her she might get well.
Trembling and eager, she started up in bed.
"Please is the Queen coming?"
The sister who had spoken went over and stood by her side. She wassurprised at the look of interest in her generally too quiet littleface.
"Yes, dear," she said, "the Queen is coming to see the Hospital."
"And shall I see the Queen?"
"We are not quite sure yet what wards she will visit; if she comes hereyou shall see her."
"Oh!" said Flo, with a great sigh, and a lustrous light shining out ofher eyes, "ef I sees the Queen I shall get well."
The sister smiled, but as she turned away she shook her head. She knewno sight of any earthly king or queen could make the child well, but shehoped much that her innocent wish might be gratified.
The next day, as Mrs Jenks was going away, Flo whispered to her--
"Ef you please, ma'am, I'd like fur you to fetch me that bit of sky blueribbon, as you 'ave in yer box at 'ome."
"What do you want it for, dearie?"
"Oh! to tie hup my 'air with. I wants fur to look nice fur the Queen.The Queen is comin' to pay me a wisit, and then I'll get well."
"But, my child, the Queen cannot make you well."
"Oh! no, but she can pray to God. The Queen's werry 'igh up, you knows,and maybe God 'ud 'ear 'er a bit sooner than me."
"No, indeed, Flo, you wrong Him there. Your heavenly Father will hearyour little humble words just as readily and just as quickly as anyprayer the Queen might offer up to Him."
"Well, then, we'll both pray," said Flo, a smile breaking over her whiteface. "The Queen and me, we'll both pray, the two of us, to God--He'll'ave 'er big prayer and my little prayer to look hout fur; so you'llfetch me the ribbon, ma'am dear."
Mrs Jenks did so, and from that day every afternoon Flo put it on andwaited in eager expectancy to see the Queen, more and more sure thatwhen they both--the poor little London child and the greatest woman inthe world--sent up their joint petitions to Heaven, strength wouldreturn to her languid frame, and she could go back, to be a help andcomfort to her dear Mrs Jenks.
At last the auspicious day arrived, a day long to be remembered by thepoor of the East End. How gay the banners looked as they waved in theair, stretching across from housetop to housetop right over the streets!
At the eastern boundary of the City was a great band of coloured canvasbearing the word "Welcome." And as the Royal procession passed intoWhitechapel High-street the whole thoroughfare was one bright line ofVenetian masts, with streamers of flags hanging from every house, and ofbroad bands of red, with simple mottoes on them.
But better to the heart of the Queen of England than any words ofwelcome were the welcoming crowds of people. These thronged thefootways, filled the shop-windows, assembled on the unrailed ledges ofthe house-fronts, on the pent-houses in front of the butchers' shops,and stood out upon the roofs.
Yes, this day would long be remembered by the people in the East End,and of course most of all by those in the great Hospital which the Queenwas to visit.
But here, there was also disappointment. It was discovered that in thelist of wards arranged for Her Majesty to see, the Buxton Ward in theAlexandra Wing was not mentioned. More than one nurse and more than onedoctor felt sorry, as they recalled the little face of the gentle, dyingchild, who had been waiting for so many days full of hope and longingfor the visit which, it seemed, could not be paid to her.
But the day before, Flo had said to Mr Rowsell, the Deputy Chairman--
"I shall see the Queen, and then I shall get well."
And that gentleman determined that if he could manage it her wish shouldbe granted.
Accordingly, when the Queen had visited the "Grocers Company's Wing,"and had named the new wards after herself and the Princess Beatrice,when she had read the address presented to her by the governors of theHospital, had declared the new wing open, and visited the GloucesterWard, then Flo's little story was told to her, and she at once said shewould gratify the child's desire.
Contrary to the routine of the day, she would pay the Buxton Ward avisit.
Flo, quite sure that it was God's wish that the great Queen of Englandshould come to see her, was prepared, and lay in her pretty white cot,her chestnut hair tied back with blue ribbons, a slight flush on herpale cheeks, her brown eyes very bright.
It was a fair little picture, fair even to the eyes that had doubtlesslooked on most of the loveliest things of earth--for on the beautifulface of the dying child was printed the seal of God's own peace.
"My darling," said the Queen to the little girl, "I hope you will be alittle better now."
But Queen Victoria knew, and the nurses knew, and the doctors knew, andall knew, but little Flo Darrell herself, that on earth the child wouldnever be well again.
They knew that the little pilgrim from earth to heaven, had nearlycompleted her journey, that already her feet--though she herself knewnot of it--were in the waters of Jordan, and soon she would pass fromall mortal sight, through the gates into the City.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
SING GLORY.
"I 'ave seen the Queen," said Flo that night to Miss Mary. "I shall getwell now."
She was lying on her back, the lustrous light, partly of fever andpartly of excitement, still shining in her eyes.
"Do you want to get well very much, Flo?" asked the lady.
"Yes--fur some things."
"What things?"
"I wants fur to help Dick wen 'ee gets hout of that prison school, and Iwants fur to tidy up fur Mrs Jenks the day 'er lad comes 'ome, and Iwants to do something fur you, Miss Mary."
"To be my little servant?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember what I said to you when first I asked you to be myservant?"
"I must be God's servant."
"Just so, dear child, and I believe fully you have tried to be Hisservant--He knows that, and He has sent you a message; but before I giveit to you, I want to ask you a question--why do you suppose that havingseen the Queen will make you well?"
"Oh! not _seein'_ 'er--but she looked real kind-'earted, and though Ididn't ax 'er, I knows she be prayin' to God fur me."
"Yes, Flo, it is very likely the Queen did send up a little prayer toGod for you. There are many praying for you, my child. You pray foryourself, and I pray for you, and so does Mrs Jenks, and better thanall, the Lord Christ is ever interceding for you."
"Then I'll soon be well," said Flo.
"Yes, you shall soon be well--but, Flo, there are two ways of gettingwell."
"Two, Miss Mary?"
"Yes; there is the getting well to be ill again by and by--to sufferpain again, and sickness again--that is the earthly way."
Flo was silent.
"But," continued the lady, "there is a better way. There is a way ofgetting so well, that pain, and sickness, and trouble, and death, aredone away with for ever--that is the heavenly way."
"Yes," whispered Flo.
"Which should you like best?"
"To be well for ever-'n-ever."
"Flo, shall I give you God's message?"
"Please."
"He says that His little servant shall get quite well--quite well in thebest way--you are to go up to serve Him in heaven. God is coming tofetch you, Flo."
"To live up in the gold
streets wid Himself?" asked Flo in a bright,excited manner.
"Yes, He is coming to fetch you--perhaps He may come for you to-night."
"I shall see God to-night," said Flo, and she closed her eyes and layvery still.
So white and motionless was the little face that Miss Graham thought shehad fainted; but this was not so; the child was thinking. Her intellectwas quite clear, her perceptions as keen as ever. She was trying torealise this wonderful news.
She should see God to-night.
It was strange that during all her illness the idea of getting well inthis way had never hitherto occurred to her--she had suffered so littlepain, she had been so much worse before--she had never supposed thatthis weakness, this breathlessness, could mean death--this sinking ofthat fluttering little heart, could mean that it was going to stop!
A sudden and great joy stole over her--she was going to God--He wascoming Himself to fetch her--she should lie in His arms and look in Hisface, and be always with Him.
"Are you glad, Flo?" asked Miss Mary, who saw her smile.
"Yes."
"I have another message for you. When Dick comes out of the prisonschool, I am to take care of him--God wishes that."
"You will tell him about God."
"Certainly, I shall do that--and, Flo, I feel it will be all right aboutthe widow's son."
"Yes, God'll make it right,"--then, after a pause, going back to theolder memories, "I'd _like_ to 'ear the Glory Song."
"What is that,