17. "It Is the Child!"

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　The next afternoon three members of the Large Family sat in theIndian gentleman's library, doing their best to cheer him up.They had been allowed to come in to perform this office becausehe had specially invited them. He had been living in a state ofsuspense for some time, and today he was waiting for a certainevent very anxiously. This event was the return of Mr.Carmichael from Moscow. His stay there had been prolonged fromweek to week. On his first arrival there, he had not been ablesatisfactorily to trace the family he had gone in search of.When he felt at last sure that he had found them and had gone totheir house, he had been told that they were absent on a journey.His efforts to reach them had been unavailing, so he had decidedto remain in Moscow until their return. Mr. Carrisford sat inhis reclining chair, and Janet sat on the floor beside him. Hewas very fond of Janet. Nora had found a footstool, and Donaldwas astride the tiger's head which ornamented the rug made of theanimal's skin. It must be owned that he was riding it ratherviolently."Don't chirrup so loud, Donald," Janet said. "When you come tocheer an ill person up you don't cheer him up at the top of yourvoice. Perhaps cheering up is too loud, Mr. Carrisford?" turningto the Indian gentleman.But he only patted her shoulder."No, it isn't," he answered. "And it keeps me from thinking toomuch.""I'm going to be quiet," Donald shouted. "We'll all be as quietas mice.""Mice don't make a noise like that," said Janet.Donald made a bridle of his handkerchief and bounced up and downon the tiger's head."A whole lot of mice might," he said cheerfully. "A thousandmice might.""I don't believe fifty thousand mice would," said Janet,severely; "and we have to be as quiet as one mouse."Mr. Carrisford laughed and patted her shoulder again."Papa won't be very long now," she said. "May we talk about thelost little girl?""I don't think I could talk much about anything else just now,"the Indian gentleman answered, knitting his forehead with atired look."We like her so much," said Nora. "We call her the little un-fairy princess.""Why?" the Indian gentleman inquired, because the fancies of theLarge Family always made him forget things a little.It was Janet who answered."It is because, though she is not exactly a fairy, she will beso rich when she is found that she will be like a princess in afairy tale. We called her the fairy princess at first, but itdidn't quite suit.""Is it true," said Nora, "that her papa gave all his money to afriend to put in a mine that had diamonds in it, and then thefriend thought he had lost it all and ran away because he felt asif he was a robber?""But he wasn't really, you know," put in Janet, hastily.The Indian gentleman took hold of her hand quickly."No, he wasn't really," he said."I am sorry for the friend," Janet said; "I can't help it. Hedidn't mean to do it, and it would break his heart. I am sure itwould break his heart.""You are an understanding little woman, Janet," the Indiangentleman said, and he held her hand close."Did you tell Mr. Carrisford," Donald shouted again, "about thelittle-girl-who-isn't-a-beggar? Did you tell him she has newnice clothes? P'r'aps she's been found by somebody when she waslost.""There's a cab!" exclaimed Janet. "It's stopping before thedoor. It is papa!"They all ran to the windows to look out."Yes, it's papa," Donald proclaimed. "But there is no littlegirl."All three of them incontinently fled from the room and tumbledinto the hall. It was in this way they always welcomed theirfather. They were to be heard jumping up and down, clappingtheir hands, and being caught up and kissed.Mr. Carrisford made an effort to rise and sank back again."It is no use," he said. "What a wreck I am!"Mr. Carmichael's voice approached the door."No, children," he was saying; "you may come in after I havetalked to Mr. Carrisford. Go and play with Ram Dass."Then the door opened and he came in. He looked rosier thanever, and brought an atmosphere of freshness and health with him;but his eyes were disappointed and anxious as they met theinvalid's look of eager question even as they grasped eachother's hands."What news?" Mr. Carrisford asked. "The child the Russianpeople adopted?""She is not the child we are looking for," was Mr. Carmichael'sanswer. "She is much younger than Captain Crewe's little girl.Her name is Emily Carew. I have seen and talked to her. TheRussians were able to give me every detail."How wearied and miserable the Indian gentleman looked! His handdropped from Mr. Carmichael's."Then the search has to be begun over again," he said. "That isall. Please sit down."Mr. Carmichael took a seat. Somehow, he had gradually grownfond of this unhappy man. He was himself so well and happy, andso surrounded by cheerfulness and love, that desolation andbroken health seemed pitifully unbearable things. If there hadbeen the sound of just one gay little high-pitched voice in thehouse, it would have been so much less forlorn. And that a manshould be compelled to carry about in his breast the thought thathe had seemed to wrong and desert a child was not a thing onecould face."Come, come," he said in his cheery voice; "we'll find her yet.""We must begin at once. No time must be lost," Mr. Carrisfordfretted. "Have you any new suggestion to make--any whatsoever?"Mr. Carmichael felt rather restless, and he rose and began topace the room with a thoughtful, though uncertain face."Well, perhaps," he said. "I don't know what it may be worth.The fact is, an idea occurred to me as I was thinking the thingover in the train on the journey from Dover.""What was it? If she is alive, she is somewhere.""Yes; she is somewhere. We have searched the schools in Paris.Let us give up Paris and begin in London. That was my idea--tosearch London.""There are schools enough in London," said Mr. Carrisford. Thenhe slightly started, roused by a recollection. "By the way,there is one next door.""Then we will begin there. We cannot begin nearer than nextdoor.""No," said Carrisford. "There is a child there who interestsme; but she is not a pupil. And she is a little dark, forlorncreature, as unlike poor Crewe as a child could be."Perhaps the Magic was at work again at that very moment--thebeautiful Magic. It really seemed as if it might be so. Whatwas it that brought Ram Dass into the room--even as his masterspoke--salaaming respectfully, but with a scarcely concealedtouch of excitement in his dark, flashing eyes?"Sahib," he said, "the child herself has come--the child thesahib felt pity for. She brings back the monkey who had againrun away to her attic under the roof. I have asked that sheremain. It was my thought that it would please the sahib tosee and speak with her.""Who is she?" inquired Mr. Carmichael."God knows," Mr. Carrrisford answered. "She is the child I spokeof. A little drudge at the school." He waved his hand to RamDass, and addressed him. "Yes, I should like to see her. Go andbring her in." Then he turned to Mr. Carmichael. "While youhave been away," he explained, "I have been desperate. The dayswere so dark and long. Ram Dass told me of this child's miseries,and together we invented a romantic plan to help her. I supposeit was a childish thing to do; but it gave me something to planand think of. Without the help of an agile, soft-footed Orientallike Ram Dass, however, it could not have been done."Then Sara came into the room. She carried the monkey in herarms, and he evidently did not intend to part from her, if itcould be helped. He was clinging to her and chattering, and theinteresting excitement of finding herself in the Indiangentleman's room had brought a flush to Sara's cheeks."Your monkey ran away again," she said, in her pretty voice. "Hecame to my garret window last night, and I took him in because itwas so cold. I would have brought him back if it had not been solate. I knew you were ill and might not like to be disturbed."The Indian gentleman's hollow eyes dwelt on her with curiousinterest."That was very thoughtful of you," he said.Sara looked toward Ram Dass, who stood near the door."Shall I give him to the Lascar?" she asked."How do you know he is a Lascar?" said the Indian gentleman,smiling a little."Oh, I know Lascars," Sara said, handing over the reluctantmonkey. "I was born in India."The Indian gentleman sat upright so suddenly, and with such achange of expression, that she was for a moment quite startled."You were born in India," he exclaimed, "were you? Come here."And he held out his hand.Sara went to him and laid her hand in his, as he seemed to wantto take it. She stood still, and her green-gray eyes met hiswonderingly. Something seemed to be the matter with him."You live next door?" he demanded."Yes; I live at Miss Minchin's seminary.""But you are not one of her pupils?"A strange little smile hovered about Sara's mouth. She hesitateda moment."I don't think I know exactly what I am," she replied."Why not?""At first I was a pupil, and a parlor boarder; but now--""You were a pupil! What are you now?"The queer little sad smile was on Sara's lips again."I sleep in the attic, next to the scullery maid," she said. "Irun errands for the cook--I do anything she tells me; and Iteach the little ones their lessons.""Question her, Carmichael," said Mr. Carrisford, sinking back asif he had lost his strength. "Question her; I cannot."The big, kind father of the Large Family knew how to questionlittle girls. Sara realized how much practice he had had whenhe spoke to her in his nice, encouraging voice."What do you mean by `At first,' my child?" he inquired."When I was first taken there by my papa.""Where is your papa?""He died," said Sara, very quietly. "He lost all his money andthere was none left for me. There was no one to take care of meor to pay Miss Minchin.""Carmichael!" the Indian gentleman cried out loudly."Carmichael!""We must not frighten her," Mr. Carmichael said aside to him in aquick, low voice. And he added aloud to Sara, "So you were sentup into the attic, and made into a little drudge. That was aboutit, wasn't it?""There was no one to take care of me," said Sara. "There was nomoney; I belong to nobody.""How did your father lose his money?" the Indian gentleman brokein breathlessly."He did not lose it himself," Sara answered, wondering still moreeach moment. "He had a friend he was very fond of--he was veryfond of him. It was his friend who took his money. He trustedhis friend too much."The Indian gentleman's breath came more quickly."The friend might have meant to do no harm," he said. "It mighthave happened through a mistake."Sara did not know how unrelenting her quiet young voice soundedas she answered. If she had known, she would surely have triedto soften it for the Indian gentleman's sake."The suffering was just as bad for my papa," she said. Itkilled him.""What was your father's name?" the Indian gentleman said. "Tellme.""His name was Ralph Crewe," Sara answered, feeling startled."Captain Crewe. He died in India."The haggard face contracted, and Ram Dass sprang to his master'sside."Carmichael," the invalid gasped, "it is the child--the child!"For a moment Sara thought he was going to die. Ram Dass pouredout drops from a bottle, and held them to his lips. Sara stoodnear, trembling a little. She looked in a bewildered way at Mr.Carmichael."What child am I?" she faltered."He was your father's friend," Mr. Carmichael answered her."Don't be frightened. We have been looking for you for twoyears."Sara put her hand up to her forehead, and her mouth trembled.She spoke as if she were in a dream."And I was at Miss Minchin's all the while," she half whispered."Just on the other side of the wall."