Jacob'sattainments; and when the first emotions of surprise were over, Mrs.Goldsmith was able to converse some time with him. He told her he hadseen his father lately, begged her to carry his duty and love to all athome, and tell them he had made six pair of shoes since his father wasthere. He walked round the school and house with his old friends; toldthem how happy he was, and what pleasure it gave him that William wascome, to whom he often spoke in his own way; and the poor boy, with themost intelligent look, showed how well he understood stood him.
Mr. Beaufort recommended Mrs. Goldsmith to stay one day longer in town,so that she had the pleasure of seeing her son happy, and settled in hisnew situation. He knew she was not to stay longer, and seemed reconciledto her departure; and before he gave her his parting kiss, he opened hisbook, and showed that he should be able to read and write by the time hesaw her again; he also touched his mouth, in token that he should_speak_. She expressed her earnest hopes that it might be so, and, withthe most affectionate regard, bade him be a good boy, and wished himfarewell.
Jacob gave her a letter to carry to his parents, the first he had everwritten. And Mr. Beaufort, who was then in the house, promised that, ifany thing happened to her son, she should immediately be informed of it;and also that, through Mr. Rawlinson's family, he would often let herknow how he got on, and what improvements he made. With this assurance,the poor woman left him without the least regret, being well convincedthat he was in the only place in which he could gain sufficientknowledge to become a useful member of society; and she returned to herexpecting family, full of the kindness of the ladies and gentlemen shehad met with, and the wonderful improvement of Jacob Goodyer, whoseparents (particularly his mother) listened to her account with anxiousjoy. His letter was shown and read to all the village, as a proof ofthe excellency of the charity; and Mrs. Goldsmith received thecongratulations of all her neighbours, on her son's being admitted intoit.
It would be hardly possible to describe the distress of little Lucy,when she found her brother gone; nor was she old enough for them to makeher understand it was for his advantage. She hunted in every part of thehouse and garden for him, and on not discovering the object of hersearch, she sat down and cried. Mary and Harry tried to pacify her, andwith her dolls and playthings she began to be amused, till, as theevening drew on, she put herself into a great bustle, and, takingHarry's hand, she led him to the road side, where, with William, she hadso often sat, to watch the return of their mother. It was in vain heendeavoured to let her know she would not return that night, and Marywas at last obliged to put her crying to bed, where, at length, sheforgot her sorrows in sleep. The next morning she renewed her search,and till her mother's return, she appeared truly unhappy; but on seeingher, her countenance revived, and while receiving _her_ affectionatecaresses, she seemed to forget that her brother was not returned withher.
Mr. Beaufort wrote frequent accounts of William's welfare andimprovements; and at the next vacation, to which all the family lookedforward with pleasure, he was permitted to come home, with hisneighbour, Jacob Goodyer. They came on the top of the coach, and as theydrew near their home, these poor boys expressed to each other thegreatest pleasure. "I shall _speak_ to my mother," said William, andhardly had he spoke the words, than he saw her standing with Lucy,Harry, and Jane, who had all walked a mile or two to meet him. Theagitation he felt, at thus unexpectedly seeing them before he reachedhome, prevented his speaking as he wished: he pulled the coachman's arm,and pointing to the happy group below, his lips moved, but he could notutter a word. The coach stopped, and he was down in an instant, and inhis mother's arms. "Mother! my dear mother!" repeated he, asarticulately as his emotion would allow him, while Harry and Jane werein raptures to hear his voice.
Jacob had yet some miles further to go; he could therefore only nod andsmile, rejoicing that, in a very short time, he should have a pleasureequal to his friend's. "We will go round by the field where your fatheris at work, my dear," said the delighted mother, "for he is impatient tosee you." "My father," returned William, "and Edward," meaning hiseldest brother. He then repeated the names of all his brothers andsisters, and received the affectionate welcome of those who were thenpresent. Lucy did not at first recollect him; but when he spoke to her,and she observed his looks and motions, no one can express her pleasure.She kissed him twenty times, pressed his hand, and held it tight all theway they walked together, as if nothing should again part them from eachother.
When they reached their father, William ran towards him, and repeatinghis name, made the heart of the poor man leap for joy: "Oh, my dearboy!" said he, "_do_ you speak at last? Well, if I lose some of myweek's wages, I must leave work, and go home with you. Here, Edward,Edward," continued he, calling to his eldest son, who was in the nextfield, "William is come home." Edward heard the news with pleasure, andimpatient to see the brother for whom they were so deeply interested, hejumped over the hedge in an instant; and William no sooner saw him, thanhe flew to meet him, and greeted him with all the expressions of joywhich he could utter. This was a happy evening for them all, and whenthe joyful party arrived at the cottage, Mary, who had been left incharge of the baby, expressed the same delight.
The tea-things were ready, and William repeated the names of every thinghe saw; he walked round the room, and, as if anxious to show theadvantage he had gained, called over all that was in it, or on theshelves about the room, while his delighted parents listened with fondemotion to all he said. His little stock of clothes was now opened, andeagerly taking out his spelling-book, which was in the parcel, he beganto read. He showed his writing also; in short, there was none of hisacquirements which he was not eager to exhibit, and to receive thecongratulations of his parents upon. He watched the motion of theirlips, and understood every word they said, when they expressed theirpleasure to each other.
In the course of the next day, he visited his old acquaintance in thevillage, whither little Lucy accompanied him, proud to be once morewith her dear brother. All the neighbours were astonished at hisimprovement, and William was in danger of thinking himself somethingextraordinary, he was so much noticed and admired. He also paid hisrespects to Mrs. Rawlinson; and received from her the sincerestcongratulations, as well as from his old friends, Miller and Sally.Caroline and Henry made him say every thing that he could speak; andwhen unable to answer them, (which, among the numerous questions theyasked him, was sometimes the case,) they immediately removed thedistress he showed on these occasions, by replying for him. Yet this didnot seem to satisfy him, and before he left them, he was, afterrepeatedly endeavouring, able to pronounce the word himself.
A few days after this, Jacob Goodyer came over to visit his friend, andit was pleasant to see with what delight they met each other. Thesimplicity of childhood was blended with their artless manners, and theyseemed to take an interest in each other's concerns, which none othercould have. William related to his attentive friend, all that hadhappened to him since they parted; even mentioned what he had ate anddrank each day, and received the same information from Jacob. While thusconversing with each other, they seemed to feel themselves the objectsof attention to all around; but when they could get away together,quite alone, and enjoy a conversation in their own way, partly by signsmingled with words, (for though able to understand others by the motionof their lips, _they_ could not so exactly frame _their_ mouths topronounce what they wished, as to be clearly comprehended by the _sight_alone,) it appeared as if nothing was wanting to their happiness.
Each of these unfortunate children, throughout the whole school, seemedallied to the others by a nearer tie than that of relationship: theywere a world within themselves, and their manners and ideas were, in onesense, unmixed with that evil which is in others. Having not the senseof hearing, their acquaintance with what was wrong was excluded throughthis channel; and as, before their admittance to the school, their ageand misfortune in great measure precluded their beholding it; so, whilethey were there, the attention paid to their morals, and to keep themfrom every thing
which might add to that taint of sin, which is soinherent in our nature, and which these children were not exempt from,gave to the simplicity with which they acted, the appearance ofinnocence; or rather what is called so by us, who are totally ignorantof what _innocence_ really is, and can only comparatively judge of it.They were taught to love each other, and feeling themselves equallyunfortunate, there was not among them that air of superiority, whichtoo many are apt to assume, from possessing powers which they see arewanting in others. The pride, also, of the human heart, revolts at timesat the compassion shown in such cases, though at others it feelsgrateful for the expression of it, and much depends on the manner inwhich it is displayed; but among themselves there was nothing of thissort--all felt for each other. Their wants they could often make knownto others: but while shut out from the power