“Lead, light divine, amid th' encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on;
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on.
Keep Thou my feet, I do not ask to see
The distant path—one step's enough for me.”
IT was a dark, moonless night. Heavy storm clouds were drifting across the sky, and a few drops of rain had already fallen, warning the few passengers whose errands of business or pleasure led them to take a rather lonely road to lose no time in seeking the shelter of their homes.
I said the road was a lonely one, but do not forget, please, that the story I am telling is one of nearly seventy years ago. Rows of handsome, well-lighted shops and dwelling-houses now cover what was then only waste or open ground, where a little girl not more than six or seven years of age stood crying on the night of which I write, crying quietly, but very bitterly. Large tears dropped through her fingers as she tried to wipe them away with her cold hands, while every now and then a great sob shook the child's whole frame till she trembled like an aspen leaf.
It was our old friend Lizzie, lost, and, in a sense, stolen. Shall I tell you how it all came about? The short winter's day was beginning to close in, and Lizzie was only just home from afternoon school, when her mother, who had been busy all day with house-keeping cares, met her in the hall, saying, " I can't think how it is that Mr. Jones is so late sending the things I ordered this morning, when he knew I wanted them early. I wonder if you could go to the shop for me and tell him I am waiting for the fruit to make a cake, and bring the tea; and if you are very careful you may take the money and pay the bill. See, I have put it in this purse for you. Now take care you don't lose the money, and make haste to get back before dark.”
Now Lizzie dearly loved to be allowed to go real errands, and to pay a bill was, she thought, by far the most important piece of business she had ever been trusted with; so we may be sure she needed no second bidding, but, holding the purse tightly in her hands, set off at once.
She had not gone far before she was stopped by a tall, dark-faced woman, who wore a red cloak and carried a basket very much larger than her own.
Connie says she must have been a gipsy. Connie is right; the stranger was a gipsy, and, laying her hand on the child's arm, said in a coaxing tone, "Why, my dear little miss, how fast you do walk. It's almost more than an old woman like me can do to keep up with you. But don't be in such a hurry. I've something so good to tell you. I've just been to your house and taken you the sweetest doll you ever set your two pretty eyes on. Such a beauty! with blue eyes and long curls that shine like gold, and all dressed in pink and blue.
“And your mother said—what do you think she said? If you go down the street you'll see my little girl. Tell her you are to take her for a nice walk, and then you can come home and have your tea.'”
Lizzie would much rather have gone on her errand and hurried home, but at the moment her mind was too full of the new doll to notice that the gipsy did not look much like one of the visitors who came to her father's house; besides, the child thought she ought to be kind and polite to the unknown friend who had just brought her such a beautiful present. So she allowed the stranger to take her hand (the one that held the purse), though she found courage enough to say, "Don't you think we had better go to Mr. Jones's first? because I know mother is waiting for him to send the fruit.”
The gipsy was very cunning; perhaps the master she served—Satan, who was, we learn from the word of God, the "father of lies"—whispered one into the heart of his willing slave, for she said, in the same coaxing tone in which she had just spoken to poor Lizzie, "Oh, that's all right, my pretty dear. I saw Mr. Jones's boy at your gate, so your mother told me to take you for a nice walk.
“But what are you holding so tight in your hand? Something very good by the care you take of it. Why, it's a purse! Only think of your mother letting you carry a purse. Put it into your basket, and I'll carry the basket. See, I'll put it inside mine, and then the purse can't get out, and when we see your mother she will be pleased at your taking such care of it. She told me to see you didn't lose your money.”