Catharines Peril, or The Little Russian Girl Lost in a Forest | Page 7

tone of dignity which I shall
never forget. 'I am not naturally quarrelsome, sir, but yet it is quite
possible you may provoke me too far.' Both the exquisites immediately
turned as pale as death, shrank in spite of themselves into their natural
insignificance, and scarcely opened their lips, even to each other,
during the remainder of the journey.
In the meantime the young gentleman, with the same politeness and
delicacy as if he had been assisting a lady of quality with her shawl,
proceeded to wrap the widow and her baby in his cloak. He had hardly
accomplished this when a smart shower of rain, mingled with hail,
commenced. Being myself provided with a cloak, the cape of which
was sufficiently large to envelope and protect my head, I offered the
young gentleman my umbrella, which he readily accepted, but held it,
as I remarked, in a manner better calculated to defend the widow than
himself.

When we reached West Craigs Inn, the second stage from Edinburgh,
the rain had ceased; and the young gentleman, politely returning me my
umbrella, began to relieve the widow of his now dripping cloak, which
he shook over the side of the coach, and afterwards hung on the rail to
dry. Then turning to the widow, he inquired if she would take any
refreshment; and upon her answering in the negative, he proceeded to
enter into conversation with her, as follows:--
'Do you travel far on this road, ma'am?'
'About sixteen miles farther, sir. I leave the coach six miles on the other
side of Airdrie.'
'Do your friends dwell thereabouts?'
'Yes, sir, they do. Indeed, I am on the way home to my father's house.'
'In affliction, I fear?'
'Yes, sir,' said the poor young woman, raising her handkerchief to her
eyes, and sobbing audibly; 'I am returning to him a disconsolate widow,
after a short absence of two years.'
'Is your father in good circumstances?'
'He will never suffer me or my baby to want, sir, while he has strength
to labour for us; but he is himself in poverty, a day-labourer on the
estate of the Earl of Hyndford.'
At the mention of that nobleman's name, the young gentleman coloured
a little, but it was evident that his emotion was not of an unpleasant
nature. 'What is your father's name?' said he.
'James Anderson, sir.'
'And his residence?'
'Blinkbonny.'

'Well, I trust that, though desolate as far as this world is concerned, you
know something of Him who is the Father of the fatherless and the
Judge of the widow. If so, your Maker is your husband, and the Lord of
Hosts is His name.'
'Oh, yes, sir; I bless God that, through a pious parent's care, I know
something of the power of divine grace and the consolations of the
gospel. My husband, too, though but a tradesman, was a man who
feared God above many.'
'The remembrance of that must tend much to alleviate your sorrow.'
'It does indeed, sir, at times; but at other times I am ready to sink. My
father's poverty and advancing age, my baby's helplessness, and my
own delicate health, are frequently too much for my feeble faith.'
'Trust in God, and He will provide for you; be assured He will.'
By this time the coach was again in motion, and though the
conversation continued for some time, the noise of the wheels
prevented me from hearing it distinctly. I could see the dandies,
however, exchange expressive looks with one another; and at one time
the more forward of the two whispered something to his companion, in
which the words 'Methodist parson' alone were audible.
At Airdrie nothing particular occurred; but when we had got about
half-way between that town and Glasgow, we arrived at a cross-road,
where the widow expressed a wish to be set down. The young
gentleman therefore desired the driver to stop, and, springing himself
from the coach, took the infant from her arms, and then, along with the
guard, assisted her to descend. 'May God reward you,' said she, as he
returned the baby to her, 'for your kindness to the widow and the
fatherless this day!'
'And may He bless you,' replied he, 'with all spiritual consolation in
Christ Jesus!'
So saying, he slipped something into her hand. The widow opened it

instinctively; I saw two sovereigns glitter on her palm. She dropped a
tear upon the money, and turned round to thank her benefactor, but he
had already resumed his seat upon the coach. She cast towards him an
eloquent and grateful look, pressed her infant convulsively to her
bosom, and walked hurriedly away.
No other passenger wishing to alight at the same place, we were soon
again in rapid motion towards the great emporium of the West of