Milly's Errand: or, Saved to Save

Bob ran to it, and saw that a child was securely lashed

to it.

MILLY'S ERRAND;

OR,

SAVED TO SAVE.

BY

EMMA LESLIE

PHILADELPHIA:

ALFRED MARTIEN

1214 CHESTNUT STREET.

1873.

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                      Alfred Martien,

             PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. THE BROTHERS

CHAPTER II. THE LITTLE WAIF

CHAPTER III. THE COTTAGE HOME

CHAPTER IV. THE WIDOW'S DEATH

CHAPTER V. GOD'S MESSENGER

CHAPTER VI. REST FOR THE WEARY

CHAPTER VII. THE DOCTOR'S KINDNESS

CHAPTER VIII. THE DOCTOR'S STORY

CHAPTER IX. MAJOR FERRERS

CHAPTER X. BLESSED ARE THE MEEK.

CHAPTER XI. CONCLUSION

MILLY'S ERRAND;

OR,

Saved to Save.

CHAPTER I.

THE BROTHERS.

WE shall have stormy weather, I am thinking, before long. The speaker was an old sailor, and as he spoke, he raised his spy-glass again to take another look at the distant horizon. It's coming, lads, he said, addressing two stout grown boys, who had just come up with a donkey-cart to gather the sea-weed that lay in heaps on the sandy shore.

The elder of the two looked out upon the sea as the old man spoke. There's a ship in the offing over there, ain't there? he said, pointing to a dim speck in the distance.

Yes; I, can't make much of her yet, but she'd better tack for the harbor pretty soon, or she won't get in, and once on these rocks here, it'll be all up with her.

It was a dangerous part of the coast; and as the old man resumed his professional walk, he cast another anxious glance towards the vessel, and then at the signs of the weather, which every moment became more threatening.

The boys went on gathering the sea-weed, working most industriously.

Presently the younger one stopped to rest on his hooked stick for a minute or two. What heaps of money that old doctor must have, he said, looking at the cart, and thinking of what had been promised them for a dozen loads of the sea-weed.

He ain't old, I tell you, said his brother, likewise stopping to rest for a minute or two, for it was hard work dragging up the heaps of heavy, wet sea-weed. Mother says he ain't more 'n thirty, or forty at the most.

Well, he looks old, anyway; his hair's gray, and his face is always puckered up.

Yes, and nobody can tell what's the matter with him, and nobody dares to go near him.

It's a pity he ain't poor, and got to work for a poor old mother like we have, Jack. And the younger boy sighed as he thought of the miserable little hovel where his mother lay bedridden with rheumatics.

Yes, or else that he'd look after the people about, and do some good with his money. They say he's the richest and most miserable man for miles around. But look here, if we stand talking about Dr. Mansfield like this, we shall never get the sea-weed into his garden, and then mother won't get her new blanket.

And the two set to work again at once. They were fisher-boys, but gathered sea-weed at odd times when not employed with their nets. Dr. Mansfield's gardener had ordered a dozen loads, promising to pay them liberally for it; and it was this that had led them to speak of the eccentric doctor himself.

All the village talked about him, more or less, for he was a puzzle to everybody, and various were the rumors afloat concerning him. The one most generally received and believed in was, that he had either accidentally, or in the heat of passion, killed a brother or cousin, or some near relative, and that although the crime could not be proved against him, he knew he was guilty, and at times suffered agonies of remorse in consequence.

The truth of this was doubted by some, but none could dispute that the doctor was a most wretched man, a misery to himself, and often to every one about him. For days and often nights were passed when no one dared to go near him, when the ceaseless tramp of his footsteps up and down was only interrupted by the agonizing groans that broke from his lips.

The boys had heard of this, and probably were thinking of it just now, for the younger paused again in his work; after a minute of two he said, The doctor's got one of his bad turns again, Jack.

How do you know that? asked his brother somewhat sharply, for, like some other elder brothers, Jack was a little jealous of Bob receiving any information except through him.

I heard one of the servants tell the gardener, he was nearly raving this morning, and that no one dared go near him.

But I would go, said Jack boldly.

You'd get killed if you did, said Bob; they say he's in such an awful passion, that he's mad nearly if any one goes near his room.

Well, I don't care; I'd go and ask him what was the matter—whether he was ill, or something like that.

Bob shook his head, and evidently thought it was a good thing his brother could not put his dangerous experiment into execution. I shouldn't like to do that, he said, speaking very slow and thoughtfully; "but if I could do anything that would help