O thou who out of the darkness
Reachest thy trembling hand,
Whose ears are open to welcome
Glad news of a better land;
Not always shalt thou be groping,
Night's shadows are well-nigh past:
The heart that for light is yearning
Attains to that light at last.
Two years had passed away since Mrs. Evans’s visit, as recorded in the preceding chapter, and still little Mary's prayer seemed as far as ever from being answered.
With the industry and patience of more mature years the child went about her daily duties, and her mother depended upon her for many things which do not generally form part of a child's occupations. Mary had less time for dreaming now, and though Cader Idris was still the spot with which her imagination associated Bible scenes and pictures, she had little leisure for anything but her everyday duties. She still accompanied her mother to the meetings, and from so continually coming into contact with older people, rather than with children of her own age, the child had grown more and more grave and earnest in face and manner, and would have been called an old-fashioned girl if she had lived in a place where any difference was known between old fashions and new.
It was about this time that Jacob Jones came home one evening from Abergynolwyn —a village two miles away from Llanfihangel -where he had been disposing of the woolen cloth which he and Molly had been making during the past months.
Jacob had been away the greater part of the day, yet he did not seem tired. His eye was bright, and his lips wore a smile as he entered the cottage and sat down in his accustomed place in the chimney corner.
Mary, whose observant eye rarely failed to note the least change in her father's face and manner, sprang towards him, and stood before him, regarding his bright face searchingly.
" What is it, father? " she said, her own dark eyes flashing back the light in his. " Something pleasant has happened, or you wouldn't look like that! "
" What a sharp little girl it is! " replied Jacob, fondly, drawing the child nearer and seating her upon his knee. " What a very sharp little woman to find out that her old dad has something to tell! "
" And is it something that concerns me,
father? " asked Mary, stroking Jacob's face caressingly.
"It is something that concerns you most of all, my chick, and us through you."
" What can it be? " murmured Mary, with a quick, impatient little sigh.
" What is it, father? " asked Mrs. Jones; " we both want to know."
" Well," replied Jacob, " what would you say, Molly dear, to our little daughter here becoming quite a learned woman, perhaps knowing how to read, and write, and cipher, and all a deal better than her parents ever did before her? "
" Oh, father! "
The exclamation came from Mary, who in her excitement had slipped from Jacob's knee, and now stood facing him, breathless with suspense, her hands closely clasped.
Jacob looked at her a moment without speaking; then he said tenderly: " Yes, child, there is a school to be opened at Abergynolwyn, and a master is chosen already: and as my little Mary thinks naught of a two miles' walk, she shall go, and learn all she can."
Oh, father!"
" Well," rejoined Jacob, now laughing outright, " how many Oh fathers! ' are we going to have? But I thought you'd be glad, my girl, and I was not wrong. You are pleased, dear, aren't you? "
There was a pause; then Mary's reply came, low spoken, but with such deep content in its tones.
" Pleased, father? Yes, indeed, for now I shall learn to read the Bible."
Then a thought struck her, and a shadow came across the happy face as she said: " But, mother, perhaps you won't be able to spare me? "
" Spare you? Yes, I will, child, though I can't deny as how it will be difficult for me to do without my little right hand and help. But for your good, my girl, I would do harder things than that."
" Dear, good mother!" cried Mary, putting an arm about Molly's neck and kissing her. " But I don't want you to work too hard and tire yourself. I'll get up an hour or two earlier, and do all I can before I start for school." Then as the child sat down again to her work, her heart, in its joyfulness, sent up a song of thanksgiving to the Lord who had heard her prayer, and opened the way for her to learn, that she might not grow up in darkness.
Presently Jacob went on: " I went to see the room where the school is to be held, and who should come in while I was there but Mr. Charles of Bala. I'd often heard of him before, but I'd never seen him, and I was glad to set eyes on him for once."
" What may he have looked like, Jacob?' asked Molly.
" Well, Molly, I never was a very good one for drawing a portrait, but I should say he was between forty and fifty years old, with a fine big forehead which doesn't look as though it had unfurnished apartments to let behind it, but quite the opposite, as though he had done a sight of thinking, and meant to do a great deal more. Still his face isn't anything so very special till he smiles, but when he does it's like sunshine, and goes to your heart, and warms you right through. Now I've seen him, and heard him speak, I can understand how he does so much good. I hear he's going about from place to place opening schools for the poor children, who would grow up ignorant otherwise."
" Like me," murmured Mary, under her breath.
" And who's the master that's to be set over the school at Abergynolwyn?" asked Molly.
" I heard tell that his name is John Ellis," replied Jacob; " a good man, and right for the work, so they say; and I hope it'll prove so."
" And how soon is the school to open, Jacob? " asked his wife.
" In about three weeks, I believe," answered Jacob. " And now, Mary my girl, if you can bring yourself to think of such a thing as supper, after what I've been telling you, suppose you get some ready, for I haven't broke my fast since noon."
The following three weeks passed more slowly for little Mary Jones than any three months she could remember before. Such childishness as there was in her seemed to show itself in impatience; and we must confess that her home duties at this time were not so cheerfully or so punctually performed as usual, owing to the fact that her thoughts were far away, her heart being set on the thing she had longed for so earnestly.
" If this is the way it's going to be, Jacob," said Molly to her husband one evening, " I shall wish there had never been a thought of school at Abergynolwyn. The child's so off her head that she goes about like one in a dream; what it'll be when that school begins, I daren't think."
" Don't you fret, wife," replied Jacob smiling. " It'll all come right. Don't you see that her poor little busy brain has been longing to grow, and now that there's a chance of its being fed, she's all agog. But you'll find, when she once gets started, she'll go on all right with her home work as well. She's but ten years old, Molly, after all, and for my own part, I'm not sorry to see there's a bit of the child left in her, even if it shows itself this way, such a little old woman as she's always been!"
But this longest three weeks that Mary ever spent came to an end at last, and Mary began to go to school, thus commencing a new era in her life.
Fairly hungering and thirsting after knowledge, the child found her lessons an unmixed delight. What other children call drudgery was to her only pleasure, and her eagerness was so great that she was almost always at the top of her class; and in an incredibly short space of time she began to read and write.
The master, who had a quick eye for observing the character and talents of his pupils, soon remarked Mary's peculiarities, and encouraged her in her pursuit of such knowledge as was taught in the school; and the little girl repaid her master's kindness by the most unwearied diligence and attention.
Nor while the brain was being fed did the heart grow cold, or the practical powers decline. Molly Jones had now no fault to find with Mary's performance of her home duties. The child rose early, and did her work before breakfast; and after her return from school in the afternoon she again helped her mother, only reserving for herself time enough to prepare her lessons for the next day.
At school she was a general favorite, and never seemed to be regarded with jealousy by her companions, this being due probably to her genial disposition, and the kind way in which she was willing to help others whenever she could.
One morning a little girl was seen to be crying sadly when she reached the schoolhouse, and on being questioned as to what was the matter, she said that on the way there, a big dog had snatched at the little paper bag in which she was bringing her dinner to eat during recess, and had carried it off, and so she should have to go hungry all day.
Some of the scholars laughed at the child for her carelessness, and some called her a coward, for not running after the dog and getting back her dinner; but Mary stole up to the little one's side, and whispered something in her ear, and dried the wet eyes, and kissed the flushed cheeks, and presently the child was smiling and happy again.
But when dinner-time came, Mary and the little dinnerless maiden sat close together in a corner, and more than half of Mary's provisions found their way to the smaller child's mouth.
The other scholars looked on, feeling somewhat ashamed, no doubt, that none but Mary Jones had thought of doing so kind and neighborly an action, at the cost of a little self-denial. But the lesson was not lost upon them, and from that day Mary's influence made itself felt in the school for good.
In her studies she progressed steadily, and this again gave opportunity for the development of the helpful qualities by which, from her earliest childhood, she had been distinguished.
On one occasion, for instance, she was just getting ready to set off on her two miles' journey home, when she spied in a corner of the now deserted schoolroom a little boy with a book open before him, and a smeared slate and blunt pencil by its side. The poor little fellow's tears were falling over his unfinished task, and evidently he was in the last stage of childish despondency. He had dawdled away his time during the school hours, or had not listened when the lesson had been explained, and now school discipline required that he should stay behind when the rest had gone, and attend to the work which he had neglected.
Mary had a headache that day, and was longing to get home; but the sight of that tearful, sad little face in the corner banished all thought of self, and as the voices of the other children died away in the distance, she crossed the room, and leaned over the small student's shoulder.
" What is it, Robbie dear? " said she in her old-fashioned way and tender, low-toned voice. " Oh, I see, you've got to do that sum! I mayn't do it for you, you know, because that would be a sort of cheating, but I can tell you how to do it yourself, and I think I can make it plain."
So saying, Mary fetched her little bit of wet rag, and washed the slate, and then got an old knife and sharpened the pencil.
"Now," said she, smiling cheerily, " see, I'll put down the sum as it is in the book;"
and she wrote on the slate in clear, if not very elegant figures, the sum in question.
Thus encouraged, Robbie gave his mind to his task, and with a little help it was soon done, and Mary with a light heart, which made up for her heavy head, trotted home, very glad that what she was herself learning could be a benefit to others.
Not long after the commencement of the day school, a Sunday school also was opened, and the very first Sunday that children were taught there, behold our little friend as clean and fresh as soap and water could make her, and with bright eyes and eager face, showing the keen interest she felt, and her great desire to learn.
That evening, after service in the little meeting-house, as the farmer's wife, good Mrs. Evans, was just going to get into her pony-cart to drive home, she felt a light touch on her arm, while a sweet voice she knew said, " Please, ma'am, might I speak to you a moment? "
" Surely, my child," replied the good woman, turning her beaming face on little Mary, " what have you got to say to me?"
" Two years ago, please ma'am, you were so kind as to promise that when I'd learned to read I should come to the farm and read you!' Bible."
" I did, I remember it well," answered Mrs. Evans. " Well, child, do you know how to read? "
" Yes, ma'am," responded Mary; " and now I've joined the Sunday school, and shall have Bible lessons to prepare, and if you'd be so kind as to let me come up to the farm one day in the week-perhaps Saturday, when I've a half-holiday-I could never thank you enough."
" There's no need for thanks, little woman, come and welcome! I shall expect you next Saturday; and may the Lord make His Word a great blessing to you! "
Mrs. Evans held Mary's hand one moment with a cordial pressure; then she got into her cart, and the pony started off quickly towards home, as though he knew that old Farmer Evans was laid up with rheumatism, and that his wife wished to get back to him as soon as possible.