CHAPTER XX.
A FRESH DAY DAWNS.
Old Oliver and Tony saw their darling buried in a little grave in acemetery miles away from their own home, and then they returned, desolateand bereaved, to the deserted city, which seemed empty indeed to them.The house had never looked so very dark and dreary before. Yet from timeto time old Oliver forgot that Dolly was gone altogether, and could nevercome back; for he would call her in his eager, quavering tones, or searchfor her in some of the hiding-places, where she had often played athide-and-seek with him. When mealtimes came round he would put outDolly's plate and cup, which had been bought on purpose for her, with gayflowers painted upon them; and in the evening, over his pipe, when he hadbeen used to talk to his Lord, he now very often said nothing but repeatagain and again Dolly's little prayer, which he had himself taught her,"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild." It was quite plain to Tony that it wouldnever do to leave him alone in his house and shop.
"I've give up my place as errand-boy," he said to Mr. Ross, "'cause theold master grows worse and worse for forgetting, and I must mind shop forhim now as well as I can. He's not off his head, as you may say; he'ssharp enough sometimes; but there's no trusting to him being sharpalways. He talks to Dolly as if she was here, and could hear him, till Ican't hardly bear it. But I'm very fond of him,--fonder of him thananythink else, 'cept my little Dolly; and I've made up my mind as hisMaster shall be my master, and he's always ready to tell me all he knowsabout him. I'm no ways afeared of not getting along."
Tony found that they got along very well. Mr. Ross made a point of goingin to visit them every week, and of seeing how the business prospered inthe boy's hands; and he put as much as he could in his way. Sad andsorrowful as the days were, they passed over, one after another, bringingwith them at least the habit of living without Dolly. Every Sundayafternoon, however, old Oliver and Tony walked slowly through thestreets, for the old man could only creep along with Tony's help, tillthey reached the Children's Hospital; but they never passed the door, norentered in through it. Old Oliver would stand for a few minutes leaningheavily on Tony's shoulder, and trembling from head to foot, as his eyeswandered over all the front of the building; and then a low, wailing crywould break from his lips, "Dear Lord! there was no room for my littlelove, but thou hast found room for her!"
It was a reopening of Tony's sorrow when Aunt Charlotte came up from thecountry to find that the little child had gone away altogether, leavingonly her tiny frocks and clothes, which were neatly folded up in adrawer, where old Oliver treasured up a keepsake or two of his wife's.She discovered, too, that old Oliver had forgotten to write toSusan,--indeed, his hand had become too trembling to hold a pen,--and shewrote herself; but her letter did not reach Calcutta before Susan and herhusband had left it, being homeward bound.
It was as nearly two years as it could well be since the summer eveningwhen Susan Raleigh had sent her little girl into old Oliver's shop,bidding her be a good girl till she came home, and thinking it would beonly three days before she saw her again. It was nearly two years, and anevening something like it, when the door was darkened by the entrance ofa tall, fine-looking man, dressed as a soldier, but with one empty sleevelooped up across his chest. Tony was busy behind the counter wrapping upmagazines, which he was going to take out the next morning, and thesoldier looked very inquisitively at him.
"Hallo! my lad, who are you?" he asked, in a tone of surprise.
"I'm Antony Oliver," he said; for of late he had taken to call himself byhis old master's name.
"Antony Oliver!" repeated the stranger; "I never heard of you before."
"Well, I'm only Tony," he answered; "but I live with old Mr. Oliver now,and call him grandfather. He likes it, and it does me good. It's likesomebody belonging to me."
"Why! how long have you called him grandfather?" asked the soldier again.
"Ever since our little Dolly died," said Tony, in a faltering voice.
"Dolly dead!" exclaimed the man, looking ready to fall down; for hisface went very white, and he leaned upon the counter with his one hand."Oh! my poor Susan!--my poor, dear girl!--however can I tell her thisbad news?"
"Who are you?" cried Tony. "Are you Dolly's father? Oh, she's dead!She died last January, and we are more lonesome without her than youcan think."
"Let me see poor Susan's father," he said, after a minute or two, andwith a very troubled face.
"Ay, come in," said Tony, lifting up the flap of the counter, under whichDolly had so often played at hide-and-seek. "He's more hisself again; buthis memory's bad yet. I know everythink about her, though; because shewas so fond of me, and me of her. Come in."
Raleigh entered the room, and saw old Oliver sitting in his arm-chair,with a pipe in his hand, and a very tranquil look upon his wrinkled face.The gas-light shone upon the glittering epaulettes and white sash of thesoldier, and the old man fastened upon him a very keen, yet doubtful gazeof inquiry.
"Don't you know me, father?" cried Raleigh, almost unable to utter aword. "It's your poor Susan's husband, and Dolly's father."
"Dolly's father!" repeated old Oliver, rising from his chair, andresting his hand upon Raleigh's shoulder. "Do you know that the dear Lordhas taken her to be where he is in glory?"
"Yes, I know it," he said, with a sob.
He put the old man back in his seat, and drew a chair close up to him.They sat thus together in sorrowful silence for some minutes, until oldOliver laid his hand upon the empty sleeve on Raleigh's breast.
"You've lost your arm," he said, pityingly.
"Ay!" answered Raleigh; "our colonel was set upon by a tiger in thejungle, and I saved him; but the brute tore my arm, and craunchedthe bone between his teeth till it had to come off. It's spoiled mefor a soldier."
"Yes, yes, poor fellow," answered old Oliver, "but the Lord knew allabout it."
"That he did," answered Raleigh; "and he's taught me a bit more abouthimself than I used to know. I'm not spoiled to be His soldier. But Idon't know much about the service yet, and I shall want you to teach me,father. You'll let me call you father, for poor Susan's sake, won't you?"
"To be sure--to be sure," said old Oliver, keeping his hand still uponthe empty sleeve on Raleigh's breast.
"Well, father," he continued, "as I am not fit for a soldier, and as thecolonel was hurt too, we're all come home together. Only Susan's gonestraight on with her lady and our little girl, and sent me through Londonto see after you and Dolly."
"Your little girl?" said Oliver questioningly.
"Yes, the one born in India. Her name's Mary, but we call her Polly.Susan said it made her think of our little Dolly at home. Dear! dear! Idon't know however I shall let her know."
Another fit of silence fell upon them, and Tony left them together, forit was time to put up the shop shutters. It seemed just like the nightwhen he had followed Susan and the little girl, and loitered outside inthe doorway opposite, to see what would happen after she had left her inthe shop. He fancied he was a ragged, shoeless boy again, nobody lovinghim, or caring for him, and that he saw old Oliver and Dolly standing onthe step, looking out for the mother, who had gone away, never, never tosee her darling again. Tony's heart was very full; and when he tried towhistle, he was obliged to give it up, lest he should break out into sobsand crying. When he went back into the house Raleigh was talking again.
"So Susan and me are to have one of the lodges of the colonel's park,"he said, "and I'm to be a sort of bailiff to look after the other outdoorservants about the garden and premises. It's a house with three bedrooms,and a very pleasant sort of little parlour, as well as a kitchen andscullery place downstairs. You can see the Wrekin from the parlourwindow, and the moon over it; and it's not so far away but what we couldget a spring-cart sometimes, and drive over to your old home under theWrekin. As soon as ever the colonel's lady told Susan where it was, shecried out, 'That's the very place for father!' You'd like to come andlive with your own Susan again, in your own country; wouldn't you now?"
 
; "Yes, yes; for a little while," answered old Oliver, with a smileupon his face.
Tony felt a strange and very painful shrinking at his heart. If the oldman went away to live with his daughter in the country, his home would belost to him, and he would have to go out into the great city again alone,with nobody to love. He could get his living now in a respectable manner,and there was no fear of his being driven to sleep in Covent Garden, orunder the bridges. But he would be alone, and all the links which boundhim to Dolly and old Oliver would be snapped asunder. He wondered if theLord Jesus would let such a thing be.
"But I couldn't leave Tony," cried old Oliver, suddenly; and putting onhis spectacles to look for him.
"Come here, Tony. He's like my own son to me, bless him! He calls megrandfather, and kept my heart up when I should have sunk very lowwithout him. My Master gave him to me the very same night he gave me mylittle love. No, no; Dolly loved Tony, and Susan must come here to seeme, but I could never leave my boy."
Old Oliver had put his arm round Tony, drawing him closer and closer tohim as he spoke, until his withered cheek pressed fondly against hisface. Since Dolly died neither of them had felt such a thrill ofhappiness as now.
"The colonel and his lady must be told about this," said Raleigh, afterhe had heard all that Tony had been and done for old Oliver; and when hewas obliged to go away for the night, the soldier gave him such a cordialgrasp of the hand, as set all his fingers tingling, and his heartthrobbing with exultation.