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diff --git a/old/69973-0.txt b/old/69973-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f8b1f67..0000000 --- a/old/69973-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9327 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ingleside, by Madeline Leslie - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Ingleside - or Without Christ and With Him - -Author: Madeline Leslie - -Release Date: February 7, 2023 [eBook #69973] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Reader24 - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INGLESIDE *** - -[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE. Page 83.] - - -INGLESIDE; -OR -WITHOUT CHRIST AND WITH HIM. - -BY -MADELINE LESLIE, - -AUTHOR OF "TIM THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," -"SISTERS AT SERVICE," -"THE HOME SERIES," ETC., ETC. - - -"To be in Christ is the secret of our life; to be for Christ, -the meaning of our activity; to be with Christ is the hope -of our glory." Anthony W. Thorold. - -SECOND EDITION. - -London: -HODDER AND STOUGHTON, -27, PATERNOSTER ROW. -MDCCCI.XXXVIII. - -Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury• - - -PREFATORY NOTE. - -The object of this book is to prove, from a series of scenes drawn -from real life, the misery of those, whether rich or poor, who live -without Christ, and the peace and comfort of those in whom the spirit -of Christ dwells as actuating principles of duty. - -The scenes were selected by the author from a number, either falling -under her own observation, or narrated by friends who vouched for -their truthfulness. They are not the most wonderful thus brought to -her notice, but were chosen because they more plainly prove the -object referred to. - -The devotion of time and money, by a young lady described here under -the name of Marion Howard, is not fiction. The eccentricities of -Mr. Regy, the sorrows of poor Esther, are facts. The singular -circumstances connected with the brother and sister from a foreign -land, inmates at the same time of the Home for the Sick, though -unknown to each other, were given to the public at the time, and -excited great interest for the unfortunate strangers. Indeed, were -we privileged to read the record of cases in our hospitals, or the -diary of our missionaries among the poor and distressed, we should -find that in our very midst scenes so wonderful are occurring that -fiction is left far in the background. - -My little book is sent forth on the same mission as one of its -predecessors, "Tim the Scissors-Grinder." That it may meet with the -same success in winning souls for the Master is the earnest prayer of - -THE AUTHOR. - - - -TABLE OF CONTENTS. - - -PART I. - -CHAPTER - -I. THE FIRST SERMON -II. THE NEW PASTOR -III. THE HOME FOR THE SICK -IV. ETHEL AND HER PASTOR -V. A HAPPY CHRISTIAN -VI. THE MUSIC TEACHER -VII. GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS -VIII. PLEASANT PROJECTS -IX. THE DOCTOR'S DIAGNOSIS -X. A RAY OF HOPE -XI. AN APPEAL FOR SYMPATHY -XII. MARION'S SICKNESS -XIII. ANNIE'S LETTER -XIV. THE LOST PACKAGE -XV. A SAD STORY -XVI. STELLA'S CONFESSION -XVII. THE CRIPPLED BOY -XVIII. A MYSTERY SOLVED -XIX. TEARS OF REPENTANCE -XX. LETTERS FROM THE PASTOR - - -PART II. - -CHAPTER - -I. GRANTBURY AND THE FIRST CHURCH -II. VISIT TO INGLESIDE -III. WITHOUT CHRIST -IV. WITH CHRIST -V. HOME IN THE STABLE LOFT -VI. THE SIMPLE PRAYER -VII. ESTHER'S FORGIVENESS -VIII. GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS -IX. TRUE FRIENDSHIP -X. NEDDY CARTER'S MISSION -XI. MANY BLESSINGS -XII. A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY -XIII. RECONCILIATION AND HAPPINESS -XIV. CHRISTMAS DAY -XV. OUR INGLESIDE - - - -INGLESIDE. - -PART I. - -CHAPTER I. - -THE FIRST SERMON. - -"WELL! well!" exclaimed Mr. Asbury, after a preliminary "Hem!" - -"I know what you would say, pa," interrupted Mrs. Asbury, in a -deprecating tone. "But it isn't fair to judge so soon. It's a trying -situation for a young clergyman. If it was our Gardner, now, we -should want people to remember that it isn't easy to stand up before -strangers and preach one's first sermon." - -"I shan't be a minister, ma; I've made up my mind on that." Joe -looked at his sister, who generally was not backward in expressing an -opinion. Now she only said, as though speaking to herself, "I wonder -what Marion would say." - -The family had just returned from morning service, where the new -pastor for the first time had met the people. Aunt Thankful, as she -was called, had taken off her bonnet and shawl, folding the latter -carefully in the creases; now, with a peremptory wave of her hand to -enjoin silence, she said,— - -"There's either sorrer or there's sin behind him. I'm inclined to -think it's sorrer. It's Scripter, you know, to let charity have its -perfect work." - -The door-bell at this moment ringing, Aunt Thankful, who was passing -Sunday with her friends, seized her bonnet and shawl and left the -room. Annie started for the door, to answer the summons, while Joe -opened his library book and began to read. - -The sound of a manly but nervous step in the chamber above called -forth a sigh from Mr. Asbury, followed by the words,— - -"I'm dreadfully afraid, wife, we've made a mistake." - -"Don't look so melancholy, pa," urged Annie, returning, "or Mr. Angus -will think we are talking of him. He asked what time we dined, and -said he would like to go to his chamber for a few minutes." - -While he paces back and forth in the apartment assigned him, I will -explain that the parish to which Mr. Asbury belonged had lost their -pastor by death six months before the opening of our story; that a -succession of candidates had been heard, discussed, and dismissed; -that the people, wearied out by their own criticisms, were beginning -to scatter; that at length they conceived the idea of sending a -Committee on an exploring tour, which Committee, going to hear a city -preacher, heard in his place a young man lately graduated from the -divinity school; that they were so impressed with his heartiness in -his work they requested an introduction and invited him to add one -more to the number of competing candidates; that he politely but -firmly declined, not believing, this the proper method of obtaining a -clergyman that, after making inquiries of his Professors and others, -and receiving instructions to go forward from the church at home, the -Committee did proceed to call the Rev. Mr. Angus to be their pastor; -that, after several weeks of earnest prayer for guidance, he did -accept their call, the public services of his ordination to take -place the week following his first sermon. - -His arrival in the town, which I shall call Grantbury, late on -Saturday evening, had given the family little opportunity for forming -an opinion of the new pastor; that he was tall and vigorous in frame, -with a countenance sad rather than smiling, eyes looking far away, a -sweet, musical voice with a sad note running through it, was all that -they knew of him until they took their seats in church directly in -front of the pulpit. The sermon was on Christ's invitation to the -weary and heavy laden to come to him for rest. In the most graphic -language he depicted the condition of these poor, sad, weary -sufferers, bearing their heavy burden of sin and sorrow, longing to -be rid of it, but knowing not how to throw it off, groaning in secret -places, with an abiding dread of what the future might bring to them. -He brought tears to many eyes unused to weep, by the vividness with -which he portrayed the soul in darkness, but longing fox the light, -empty, void of faith in God or man, shut up in a prison of gloomy -thought and forebodings, every day verging toward the frightful chasm -of despair. - -Listening to the preacher's voice trembling with pathos, no one could -doubt that he well understood by personal experience the condition of -those to whom our blessed Lord extended this gracious invitation. -Every eye was fixed on his, every heart followed him; but when, -turning from the weary and heavy laden, he pointed to the One who -could deliver them from all their wretchedness, the note of sadness -still lingered. Instead of the triumphant ring of victory from the -freed soul, the tone of peace and rest from those delivered from -their heavy load, there was an unexplained want of harmony between -the manner and voice of the speaker and the subject of which he was -treating. A general restlessness among the audience proved their -disappointment. - -The sermon closed with a passionate appeal to all present to accept -Christ's offer of pardon, peace, and rest. The people rose to receive -the benediction, half wondering at the sadness which oppressed them. -Under other circumstances they would have crowded around the new -pastor, offering their hands in token of their welcome. They had -been prepared to receive him with enthusiasm. The weeks of suspense -during which they were waiting his reply to their call had deepened -their anxiety to obtain the services of one so highly recommended, -but a weight had fallen on their spirits, and they silently left the -church, a few casting glances back to the pulpit, where sat a -figure prone and abject, the face buried in the hands. - -So it happened that only the Committee who had heard him in the city -waited to speak to him, and at length accompanied him, almost in -silence, to the house of Mr. Asbury, where he was to remain until -after his ordination. - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE NEW PASTOR. - -IN the mean time, in the spacious chamber assigned to the clergyman, -a terrible conflict was raging. Possessed of the keenest -susceptibilities, with a morbid sense of his own unworthiness, -he was, alas, too well aware of the impression left upon his hearers -by his morning's discourse. - -"God forgive me!" he ejaculated, his hands pressed to his head. -"Deliver me from this terrible burden. Make known to me thy will. -Thou knowest my heart. I thought I heard thy voice. Show me the way -in which I should walk. How can I, laden with sorrow, stand in God's -stead and preach the gospel of salvation? Make haste to help me, -O Lord! All my trust is in thee." - -A light tap at his door disturbed his meditations. He presented -to Annie a face so pallid and suffering that she started back, -exclaiming,— - -"You are ill, Mr. Angus: let me call mother." - -"Oh no! I am not ill,—I mean not much. Certainly, I have a -headache." - -"I came to say that dinner is ready. Mother will give you something -for your head." - -"Thank you. I will be down-stairs directly." - -He turned to his washstand and dashed cold water on his burning -forehead, then, crushing back the wretched doubts and fears which -had oppressed him, he presented himself in the parlor. - -His pallid countenance confirmed Annie's statement of his illness. -Mrs. Asbury, with true motherly kindness, ordered a cup of coffee -with out milk or sugar, but postponed an examination of the case -until a more fitting opportunity. - -Seated opposite Mr. Angus at the table was fairy little figure, -introduced to him as "Our baby Ethel." She had large gray eyes shaded -and deepened by long, black lashes. Raising her eyes timidly at -first, she glanced at the stranger, gave a little start at the -expression which beamed in his face, then her whole countenance—eyes, -cheeks, and lips—grew radiant and, to the utter astonishment -of all present, the shy, timid little one, whose caresses were so -daintily given, so highly prized, exclaimed,— - -"I love you!" - -"Why, Ethel!" began her father. "Why, Baby!" repeated the mother; -but Annie, catching a glimpse of intense, yearning love in the face -of the clergyman, wondered in silence. - -After dinner, one look of entreaty brought the little miss to the -clergyman,—no longer a stranger,—when, to the undisguised -astonishment of her parents, she allowed herself to be folded in his -arms, her long flaxen curls floating over his breast. Nestling close -to his side, with her eyes uplifted to his, she remained, quietly -listening to the conversation which followed, rewarded occasionally -by a smile so sweet, so full of tender yearning, that not only the -child's but the mother's heart was wholly won. - -Mr. Asbury had asked some questions concerning Mr. Angus's mission -work in the city, and then said to his wife,— - -"Marion will like to hear about this: she loves such work." - -"She is a real missionary herself," urged Annie. - -"I love Marion," lisped the child. "She is my Marion." - -"Is she your daughter, Mr. Asbury?" - -"Not exactly," laughing, "though she is as near as a daughter. She is -the daughter of Mrs. Asbury's cousin, now deceased. Indeed she has -lost both her parents, and we have adopted her. She calls us uncle -and aunt." - -"I want Marion to come home quick, pa." Then, turning again to look -in the face above her, Ethel said, "I'll let my Marion love you too." - -"A great piece of condescension on Ethel's part, Mr. Angus," added -the mother, laughing heartily. "The little puss is extremely jealous -in her affection for Marion, and scarce allows her cousin out of her -sight for a moment when she is at home." - -"Does your niece not live at home, then?" - -"Oh, no, sir. She teaches music in Madame La Vergnes's Institute -in New York; but, as her classes only occupy six hours a day, she has -abundant time for her poor people." - -"It is against my wish," urged her uncle, "that she should stay away -from home for so many months in a year." - -"But not contrary to your consent, pa," explained Annie. "You told -her you wouldn't forbid it. So, Mr. Angus," she added, blushing at -her own earnestness, "you musn't think our Marion naughty or -obstinate. It was her duty she said, and so she went." - -"Ethel, I fear you will tire Mr. Angus, sitting in his lap so long." - -He pressed her tightly in his arms and waited to hear what she would -say. - -"He's skeezing me, ma. I guess he isn't tired. Are you?" putting her -hand softly on his cheek. - -He took the small hand in his, held it for a moment, asked, "At what -time does your Sunday school commence?" put her hand to his lips as -he said, rising, "We are friends from this time, Ethel. Good by for -an hour or two," and left the room. - -"I like him ever so much," exclaimed Annie. "Aren't you glad now, -pa, that he has come to be our minister?" - -Perhaps Mr. Asbury would have answered still more warmly could he -have followed the pastor to his chamber and listened to the cry which -went up from a full heart. - -"Is this a ray of light from thy throne, O my heavenly Father? May I -not accept it as an answer to prayer for help,—as a token of thy -loving care? O God, I bless thee!" - -Making his way from his chamber, he saw Ethel sitting on the lower -stair waiting for him. - -"You may kiss me if you want to," she said, putting up her rosy lips. - -He caught her in his arms, kissed her again, the mother coming -forward just in time to hear him say, "God bless you, precious -child!" - -How warm his heart felt with this new glow. With his whole soul he -received the loving confidence of this little one as a token of -divine favor. God had accepted him and would bless his work among -these people. - -Arriving at the chapel, the superintendent of the school came forward -to meet him, with the request that, in the place of the usual -exercises, he would address them. But Mr. Angus requested to be -allowed to watch the workings of the school consenting, however, to -talk to them at the end. - -"Is this your usual number?" he inquired, glancing over the room. - -"Yes sir, about the average." - -"Are they punctual in their attendance,—teachers and scholars?" - -"No, sir; that is one great drawback to success." - -"Do these children not go to church? I saw few children there." - -"No, sir; they seldom go." - -Declining a seat on the platform, Mr. Angus drew an arm-chair near -the Bible class and waited for the superintendent to call the school -to order. The gong sounded, but the noise did not decrease. The -second time, with the aid of the teachers, the loud whispering -abated, when, in a low voice, impossible to be heard at the farther -end of the room, the superintendent offered prayer. A hymn was given -out, and all looked around for the lady who usually played the -melodeon. She was absent, and at last, just as the singing was to be -omitted, Annie Asbury came forward blushing, and said, "I will try -to play." - -Mr. Angus was afflicted with a keen ear for discords. I can only say -that during the singing he was agonized. Before the closing exercises -he had made up his mind that here at least there was work for the -pastor. The apathy was alarming. With few exceptions, the teachers -hurried through the lesson, accepting without reproof the too -evidently manufactured excuses in place of a well-learned lesson; -then shutting the book, he or she became totally oblivious of all -that was passing, some even leaving the class to talk with another -teacher. - -That was a face thoroughly in earnest which confronted the school -when the superintendent announced that "Rev. Mr. Angus, our pastor, -will address you." - -In a full, impressive voice the clergyman began. - -"Boys and girls,—yes, and teachers too,—we are strangers to-day, -but we shall not continue so. I have a good memory for names and -faces. I intend to know you all, every one. I have come here to be -one of you, to love you, and I hope to be loved in return. -My business is to lead every one in this room to the arms of the -blessed Saviour, and I ask you all to help me. As many as are -willing, I ask to come after school and give me your hand in token -of your acceptance of this contract. Until we meet again next -Sunday, I ask you to consider seriously a few questions. You can -give your answers in writing if you please. I shall like that best; -or you may come to me,—not in classes, but individually, and -answer them. - -"First. What do I come to Sunday school for,—to please God, or to -please my parents, or to please myself?" - -"Second. Does my coming just as I have been used to coming please -God,—does it please my parents,—does it please me?" - -"Third. If I neither please God, my parents, nor myself, in what way -can I change my actions to do so?" - -"Now, with the permission of your superintendent, I will ask you to -rise and join me in one verse. - -"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow; -Praise Him, all creatures here below; -Praise Him above, ye heavenly host; -Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." - -"Remember God is here: let us not mock Him; now begin." His voice was -a deep, rich baritone, which resounded through the chapel, carrying -the scholars and teachers with him. At the close, he stood with his -hand extended toward a little girl near him. Boys and girls pressed -forward, each one giving his own name, until only the teachers -remained. To these, as they gathered around him, he said,— - -"Will it be too much for me to ask that each one of you will ponder -the questions I gave you? The work of a Sunday-school teacher may be -wearisome and unpleasant, or it may be glorious, most blessed. It is -God's own work; and He is a good paymaster." - -Annie persuaded her brother to wait for Mr. Angus, but hesitated -about joining him when she saw how sad he looked. With a frankness -which was her peculiar charm she said, timidly,— - -"We waited to walk home with you, but perhaps you would rather go -alone." - -"Thank you, yes." Then, rousing himself, he added, "You are very -kind. I shall be glad of your company." - -It was true that in the excitement of the past hour his own personal -grief had been absorbed in the sorrow he felt at finding the Sunday -school in such a low condition. He began to realize that this was the -keynote by which he must judge of the spiritual state of the church. -Then doubts of his fitness for the work assailed him, and he was -appalled with the reflection that it was too late now to recede. -It was at this minute that Annie met him. He would have given much -to be alone, to fight his battle unobserved; but no, it was better -that he should not dwell on such painful, unavailing thoughts. - -Annie glanced at him occasionally, as with knitted brows he hurried -forward, but did not speak until he was about to turn the wrong way. - -"This is our street, Mr. Angus," she said. - -"Pardon me, Annie, I am usually quick at finding my way, but—I am -thinking about your Sunday school. Were the children more inattentive -to-day than usual?" - -"No, sir. Marion goes wild about it. She thinks everything in it is -horrid. I heard her talking to the superintendent; she told him the -mode of teaching, the want of order, the singing, were all as bad as -could be; but Marion is a singer, you know." - -"How long has this gentleman been superintendent?" - -"Only a few weeks. They tried one and another, but nobody would take -it. Marion said Mr. Molton only accepted because he was too -good-natured to say 'I won't,' as the others did." - -At the close of the evening service the congregation were not a -little astonished by the request to remain in their seats for a few -minutes after the benediction had been pronounced, nor was the -astonishment abated when the young pastor elect began to address -them. It was as well for them to know it now as any time. He never -made any unnecessary preliminary remarks; he made a fierce dash at -any subject and done with it. - -Every eye was fixed on him when he began. - -"Owing to my peculiar views as to the dignity of the office of an -ambassador of Christ, I declined to come among you as a candidate for -your favor. I knew nothing of the state of your church and society. I -had no experience to guide me, except that derived from my mission -work among the poorest of the poor,—among those so eager for the -bread of life that it was a glorious privilege to break it for them. -I find your church large in numbers; I—yes I must say it—I am -appalled, I am young. It is not yet too late for you to relieve me -from the responsibilities which may prove too much for me." - -His head sank on his breast as a murmur, "No! no! We want you," -ran through the audience. His voice trembled with emotion as, after a -brief pause, he spoke again. "God's will be done; there is a great -work to do here. We must begin with the Sunday school. The help of -every father and mother and child is necessary. Above all, we must -earnestly besiege the throne of grace for divine help. Brethren and -sisters, pray for each other and pray for your pastor, for his -guidance; that he may be holy, humble, earnest, and hopeful in his -work of winning souls for the Master." - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE HOME FOR THE SICK. - -IN one of the main avenues in a large city stands a spacious building -enclosed in garden. The edifice and its ornamental surroundings -occupy an entire square. Lofty trees and low shrubs, parterres of -flowers, picturesque arbors with rustic seats, gravelled walks -winding in and out among the blossoms, prove to the passer-by that -this is truly what the name indicates,—a "Home for the Sick." - -A Russian nobleman, after a thorough examination of the building -itself, its lofty ceilings and thorough ventilation, its conveniences -for heating and cooking, its laundry department, its beautiful, sunny -wards, with the well-trained nurses moving quietly from cot to cot -for the relief of the sufferers, was asked,— - -"What do you think of our hospital?" - -With a burst of enthusiasm he exclaimed, "It isn't a hospital, it is -a palace where the king receives his guests and takes care of them." - -At this moment a carriage is drawn up before the principal entrance -and a young woman is assisted to alight. Presently two men approach -with a chair, in which she is seated, a young lady who has -accompanied her walking by her side. - -This is not her first visit to the hospital. For months together she -lay prostrate, struggling for life, going away at last, not strong, -certainly, but with a prospect of perfect recovery. Now she knew she -had come home to die. Yes, it was home in the truest and sweetest -sense of the word, for here she had been born of the Spirit. -Old things had passed away and all things had become new. Here she -had joined herself to the people of God, confessing Jesus Christ to -be her only hope for pardon and peace. She no longer shuddered at the -approach of the grim messenger; she was ready to welcome him whenever -her Saviour called her to his immediate presence. - -She was placed in her old bed, endeared by so many precious memories, -where she could see the setting sun, and by his resplendent glories -be reminded of the Sun of Righteousness in whose effulgent beams her -soul would bask for ever and ever. - -Oh, no! there was no terror in the thought of death; the language of -her heart was, "Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." - -As she lay reposing on her spotless couch, her cheek rivalling the -whiteness of her pillow, she clasped her hands, exclaiming,— - -"How good God is! Think of my being allowed to come home, to have my -own bed! You were so thoughtful, dear friend, to ask for that favor. -This room has been like heaven to me. I am afraid I ought not to be -so happy." - -She glanced wistfully in her companion's face, who understood the -appeal and answered, warmly, - -"God has forgiven the past, dear. We are told to 'forget the things -that are behind, and press forward.' You have given that burden to -the Saviour; don't take it back again: it shows distrust of His -loving care for those you have committed to Him." - -"If I could only know before I die that he is safe—I mean that he -has accepted Christ,—I would ask no more. Poverty, even want, -I do not care for. Poverty brought me here, where I found my -precious, waiting Saviour; but oh, if I could know that in his -wanderings God's spirit has led him into the truth, how I would -praise His name to all eternity!" - -An expression of holy rapture beamed from every feature. Her friend -gazed with glistening eyes. Softly laying her hand on the head of the -dying girl, she repeated the words, "who giveth us the victory -through our Lord Jesus Christ." Rising, she pressed her lips to the -forehead of the sufferer, whispered, "I shall come again tomorrow," -and left the room. - -In the morning Stella found herself so much refreshed by sleep that -when the chaplain came into the ward she requested the privilege of -having private communion administered to her. - -This gentleman, Rev. Mr. Owen, was not a stranger to her. It was his -faithful words which had cut so deep into her heart that for weeks -her soul writhed with self-inflicted torture. It was a sermon he -preached one Sunday when she was in the chapel which brought her to -the feet of Jesus, clothed and in her right mind. The text was this, -"If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also -forgive you; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will -your Father forgive your trespasses." How quickly the gracious -promise had been fulfilled in her case! Her heart, which had hardened -to flint while cherishing anger toward one whom she believed had -injured her, grew tender and loving under the softening influence of -the spirit of forgiveness. No sooner did she cast away the vile -serpent which had coiled itself so closely around her vitals as to -crush out every vestige of affection, than the dove of peace flew -down and nestled in her bosom. - -To the chaplain Stella had related some facts in the history of her -early life, with a mere hint at some events which had blasted her -happiness. Only to the loved and trusted friend of her own age, -one who had secured a place for her in this happy home, and brought -her hither, had she confessed that her own temper, jealousy, and -distrust had greatly aggravated her sufferings. Mr. Owen knew enough -to understand that, whatever the past had been, she was now -repentant, that she had listened to the invitation, "Come unto me all -ye that are weary and heavy laden," and that Jesus Christ had given -her rest. - -In an interview with the chaplain preparatory to her receiving the -precious memorials of Christ's love, she once more announced her -faith in Christ as her only hope for a poor sinner like herself, and -her belief that He would answer her prayers for one long lost to her, -that, if he were still living, he would be brought to love her -Saviour, and to forgive her, as she had, from the heart, forgiven -him. - -The effect of this service was so refreshing that for several days -she was quite free from the extreme suffering for breath which had so -exhausted her. According to her request, her friend, in one of her -daily calls, had brought her paper and pens, and, bolstered up in -bed, she spent nearly an hour every day in writing. - -The end came at last unexpectedly. She was sitting nearly upright -listening to the last chapters in the Revelation, when, with a wave -of her hand to stop the reading, she repeated in a full voice the -words just read: "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; -and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying; neither -shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away." - -She paused, raised her eyes, a bright smile illumined her face; -she pointed upward, then with a little gasp her spirit fled away -to the Saviour in whom she trusted. - -Waiting only to ask permission from the superintendent to pay all -necessary expenses, and to learn when the funeral services would be -attended, her friend gazed for the last time on the marble -countenance, so peaceful in its calm repose, then, taking from the -nurse a package directed to her care, passed quietly from the room. - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -ETHEL AND HER PASTOR. - -NOW that the ordination services had passed, the young clergyman -girded himself up for his work among his people. It was his chosen -work, and, could he have blotted a few pages from the book of his -past life, he would have gone forward with hope as well as with -courage. During the few days preceding the ordination, he humbled -himself before God, asking help of the Divine Spirit to search out -whatever was wrong in his heart and help him to overcome in whatever -tempted him. Still there was a kind of bewilderment in his mind, -a kind of waiting to see whether his Father in heaven, who knew every -event of his life, might not interpose even yet and by his providence -send him back to his work among the poor in the city. - -During these days the influence of the sweet child Ethel did much -to quiet him and inspire him to more confidence in gaining the -affection of his people. She used to fix her eyes so wistfully -on his, as she sat opposite him at table, watching and waiting -for the smile which now and then flitted across his features,— -a smile not soon forgotten, so entirely did it change the whole -expression of his countenance. At his bidding she would come and -nestle herself in his arms, never obtruding herself on his notice, -but quietly submitting to having her hand held tenderly and -occasionally put to his lips. - -Her brother Joe, or Gardner, as his mother called him, was rather -a saucy boy, the only son, and of course a great pet. When he thought -Mr. Angus was out of the house, he would march up and down the long -hall singing, - -Our pastor is a rare, rare man, -He sings so fine you cannot tell, -His smile is bright as bright can be, -But then he only smiles for Ethel. - -"Look here, I'll tell you a secret," he said to Annie. "My poetry -will be the making of me. I have succeeded so well in my first effort -I intend to publish a book of poems, and I shall dedicate it to the -Rev. Harold Angus, who first inspired my muse. Isn't that the way -they put it? I shall have, let me see, how many copies printed for -private use, one for mother, Marion, and you,"—counting on his -fingers—"one for Mr. Angus and Ethel, five, and I'll keep one for -myself." - -Annie laughed heartily, as she said, "If the rest is as fine as your -first verse, no doubt there will be a great sale. I'm so glad -Mr. Angus is to live here." - -"Only for the present. He said he wouldn't ask more, and then he -whispered baby to plead for him. Wasn't it funny how seriously the -little puss took it? When she found there was even a possibility of -his going away, she walked right up to pa and said,"— - -"'Do you want your little girl to go way off?'" - -"'No, puss, what do you mean?'" - -"'Why, you know if Mr. Angus goes I shall have to go. He can't go -alone, and he hasn't any little girl but me.'" - -"'In that case,' pa said, 'the matter is soon settled; pa can't spare -his baby any way.'" - -In a few weeks the Sunday school was completely reorganized. -Every teacher was obliged to be present at the teachers' meeting -on Saturday afternoon, to be promptly in her or his place every -Sunday; or, if unable to do so, to send a substitute. A Bible class -for adults had beer formed, taught by the pastor, and this soon -outgrew the accommodations in the Sunday-school room, and had -to adjourn into the church. - -Here more than anywhere else Mr. Angus felt at home. If it were -a mistake for one with a past like his to stand up in God's place, -it certainly was right for him to help others to study God's word, -and so to study it that the effect on their lives might be for the -honor of Christ. - -Honestly and truly, he did try to throw off the burden which often -weighed his spirits to the earth, and yet there were hours when the -agony of his mind was almost more than he could bear, when he could -only cry,— - -"Dear Lord, Thou knowest all. Put Thine almighty arm around me. -Hear my prayers and grant me relief. Visit not, O Lord, upon others -the chastening for my deserts. Save me, and I will praise Thy name -for ever and ever." - -Day by day he buried himself in study or in visits among his people, -Joe frequently conveying him to the outskirts of the parish in his -father's buggy. - -One afternoon he had been alone to a distant part of the town, and -was returning, when he stopped at a small thread and needle store -to purchase a pair of gloves. Behind the counter was a young girl -who attracted his attention by a peculiarly merry expression. -The color deepened in her cheeks as she took down box after box, -searching for the right number, and at last she asked him to excuse -her ignorance, as she was only a new hand. - -"This pair seems to be very elastic," she said, striving in vain -to control the muscles of her face, which, in spite of her efforts, -dimpled and beamed in the most mirth-provoking manner. She stretched -the kid across the back of the glove, and held it out to him, when he -put out his hand for her to measure it. He could scarcely help -noticing that the fingers of the shop girl were beautifully tapering, -and that her one ring, though not a diamond, was large and costly. - -Just as he was paying for the gloves, a woman, fat and rosy, came -bustling in, exclaiming, as she saw what was passing,— - -"Well, I never did! Why, Miss—" - -She checked herself suddenly, warned by a glance from the young lady. - -The clergyman had scarcely reached the street when he heard the -woman's voice saying,— - -"That's the new parson. Folks like him, mostly, though they do say -he's kind o' stiff and proud." - -The reflections caused by these words were not pleasant. It was -possible that when his thoughts were dwelling on his own painful -experience his manner might be reticent. "If they consider me proud," -was his reflection, "how little they know me! Why, I would exchange -gladly with those rough boys playing ball yonder, if by doing so I -would get rid of these harrowing memories. Well, I owe my thanks to -the woman, though I suppose she scarcely intended that I should hear -her criticisms." - -Then he began to wonder who the shop girl could be. She was so -evidently out of place there; and what caused her mirth? Alone as he -was, he laughed heartily as he recalled the dimpled curves around -that arch mouth, and wondered whether there had been any reason -personal to himself which brought these dimples into such full play. - -Letting himself into the house by his night-key, he went directly -to his chamber, where he remained until summoned by the bell to the -tea-table. Ethel, at sound of his step, rushed to the door to meet -him, her voice ringing joyously as she exclaimed,— - -"My Marion has come! I'll show her to you." - -Pulling him eagerly forward, she brought him face to face again with— -the shop girl; stood for an instant gazing at them, then, in the -fulness of her content, and wishing to give one grand proof of her -love, she added,— - -"I'll let you kiss her if you want to." - -A burst of laughter followed, during which Mr. Angus had time to -catch the little girl in his arms and whisper something in her ear, -Marion, meanwhile, growing very rosy as she waited for a formal -introduction from her uncle. - -"My niece, Miss Howard, Rev. Mr. Angus, our pastor." - -The gentleman cordially extended his hand. Their eyes met and they -both laughed. - -After they were seated at the table, Marion, who was sitting next her -uncle and opposite the clergyman, with a merry glance in his -direction, explained:— - -"I have met Mr. Angus before." - -"Where did you meet him? In the city?" - -"I had the pleasure of purchasing a pair of gloves from the store -where Miss Howard is employed. I have tried on the gloves since," -he added, glancing archly in her blushing face, "and I assure you -they fit extremely well." - -Marion threw back her head and laughed heartily, and as mirth is more -contagious than any fever, all present joined in the mirth, though -there were loud calls for an explanation. - -"It is only," she said, "that I called on my way from the depot -to see Mary Falkner, and as her mother was very busy, I offered -to sit by Mary's bed while she finished her washing. Some one came -into the shop. Mrs. Falkner was in the clothes-yard, and did not -hear, and I at last went forward, supposing, of course, that I should -be called on for a spool of thread or a paper of pins. - -"I am sorry, sir, that I could not serve you better, but under the -circumstances I did as well as I knew how. But I am forgetting my -errand to you. I charged you too much for the gloves, and -Mrs. Falkner trusted me with the change to be returned, which I now -make over to you"; passing twenty-five cents in silver across the -table. - -"I shall take an early opportunity to show my appreciation of -Mrs. Falkner's fair dealing," responded Mr. Angus, smiling, as he put -the silver in his pocket. But with an instant change in his tone, -"Who is this Mary Falkner? Does she belong to my charge?" - -"Yes, sir; she is a poor cripple; so patient and cheerful, that it is -a lesson to see her. It almost brings tears to my eyes to hear her -talk of God's mercy to her, and how He inclines the hearts of people -to supply her wants. Why, even the coming of customers to the store -for a few pennies' worth of thread is a subject for thankfulness." - -"She is, indeed, to be envied. I regret that I have not seen her. -Such calls are needed by a pastor for his own good." - -Marion's beaming face bore witness to her approbation of this -sentiment, as she remarked,— - -"There is no place in the parish where a visit from you would be more -prized than in poor Mary's chamber." - -Dear little Ethel, how hard it was for her, during the few days of -Marion's visit, to divide her favors equally between her two friends. -By this time the friendship between her and her pastor had become -very close. In a small locker under his bookcase were some of her -choicest toys, brought hither from time to time; and with these she -would amuse herself so quietly that he almost forgot her presence. -During his study hours he often rose from his books and paced the -floor while he arranged the topics of his sermons. One glance showed -her he was busy, and she scarcely moved. Sometimes he seated himself -in a large chair for the same purpose, when the little one, -watching every movement, obeyed the motion of his hand, and with -her favorite dolly in her arms, silently crept to his lap, sitting so -quiet that she often fell asleep. - -Once her father, coming unexpectedly from his office to the house, -inquired for her, and was told she was with Mr. Angus in his study. -The child heard his voice, and putting her little fat hand on her -mouth to keep herself quiet, went softly from the room. - -"I'm afraid you will disturb Mr. Angus," her father said. "What do -you do in there?" - -"I keep stiller than a mouse, 'cause they nibble cheese and I don't, -and I make sermons with Mr. Angus." - -"Make sermons, eh?" laughing; "well, you'd better come with me and -make the horse go." - -Now if she obeyed Marion's invitation for a walk with her, -she watched anxiously for any marks of disapprobation from her other -friend, nor was she quite satisfied until she had made it clear -to him that she loved him just the same, but that her Marion was only -going to be with her a little while, and would feel badly if she did -not go for a walk. - -To her cousin she also explained why she did not as heretofore devote -herself entirely to her society. - -"I have to take care of him, you know, because he has nobody but me. -He doesn't look as sorry as he did. It always makes me cry to see -tears roll down his cheeks." - -"Cry!" repeated Marion, quite shocked. - -"Yes; when we're praying to Jesus to make us good, he says we must -always tell Jesus when we have been naughty, and He will forgive us -right off." - - - -CHAPTER V. - -A HAPPY CHRISTIAN. - -FROM the first Marion had been agreeably impressed with Mr. Angus; -though after hearing from Aunt Thankful of his first sermon and his -cry for help after the evening service, agreed with her aged friend -that he must have known real sorrow; sorrow from the effects of which -he could not all at once rally. After hearing his prayers, it seemed -to her impossible to believe that his sorrow was caused by any act of -his own. If so, she was certain that it had been heartily repented -of. The scene so innocently referred to by Ethel took hold of her -imagination. In the solitude of his chamber he knelt, his little pet -by his side, her hand held fast in his, while tears ran down his -cheeks, as he implored forgiveness for past offences. Do what she -Would, she could not shake off the memories of this scene. - -Marion was young in years, only twenty-three her next birthday; -but her life had been an eventful one. Blessed with Christian -parents, her opening mind eagerly imbibed the practical truths of -the Bible. Jesus Christ was embraced as her Saviour from sin in this -life, and from the punishment of sin in the life to come. God was -to her a tender, loving Father, to whom she might go at any hour, -with the same freedom as she approached her earthly father. -She realized in an unusual manner His watchful providence, guiding -and guarding her at every step of her young life. When at the age of -seventeen she was bereft of both her earthly parents, she accepted -in all their fulness the promises of God to the fatherless ones, -and never had these gracious promises failed. - -Her education being incomplete, her guardian' sent her to New York -City to the care of her father's sister, an amiable but thoroughly -worldly woman. Mrs. Williamson considered her duty accomplished when -she had seen her niece arrayed in the most becoming mourning attire, -had entered her at a fashionable institution, and introduced her to -her own select circle. - -But these surroundings, so unlike the quiet refinement of her own -sweet home, instead of weaning the young orphan from the pure -pleasures of a Christian life, left her with such a yearning for the -society of those who sympathized in her dearest joys that she -resolved to spend more time than ever in communion with her Saviour. -Happy indeed are those who, losing Christian companionship, -are driven for comfort to Christ himself. His love can so fill -the soul thus depending on Him as to compensate for the loss -of every earthly solace. - -Marion was allowed to choose her own church, and at once joined -a Bible class, where her hunger for instruction so animated her -classmates and so encouraged her teacher that the most happy results -followed. - -During the hours in the day devoted to secular studies Marion worked -with all her might. She knew it to be right to do her very best, -and even with the branches of exact science, which were irksome, -she conquered her reluctance and soon made her mark as a scholar -of unusual ability. - -Music was, however, her specialty. It was passion with her, and even -before her parents' death, her skill as a pianist as well as her -power with her voice distinguished her. - -"How plainly I can see a Father's hand leading me all the way -through!" she used to say. "He gave me the ability to sing, and when -the right time came He allowed me the privilege of using my voice for -the comfort of others." - -She alluded to the fact of being invited by a gentleman connected -with her Sunday school to sing for the patients at the "Home for the -Sick." In connection with this first visit she used to say,— - -"Never did I know such real happiness as when I found myself able -to comfort those those poor, weary ones, Christ's own sufferers. -When one woman, taking my hand, thanked me with moistened eyes for -the words of cheer, it was an impulse I could scarcely resist to fall -on my knees and thank her for letting me sing for her. 'You have -lighted the path to the grave. I'm not afraid now,' gasped one whose -wings were plumed for her flight. - -"Oh!" exclaimed Marion, clasping her hands to her breast as she -recalled the scene. "Who am I, that I should be so blessed?" - -During the summer months Mr. Williamson usually travelled with his -family or passed the time at some fashionable resort, and it was his -earnest wish that Marion should accompany them. - -But after a week spent at a gay hotel she told her uncle she found it -unendurable; and insisted on going alone, if he could not find an -escort for her, to visit her Aunt Asbury. She arrived when the whole -family were watching the fading away of a young life. Helen, the -oldest daughter, about whom so many hopes had clustered, the light of -the home, the pride of parents and friends, had received a summons to -leave all that had hitherto been so dear and enter on the unknown,— -the infinite. Shuddering with fear, she turned to her parents for -help, but they could only weep and wring their hands. At length their -clergyman was summoned, and from this hour his visits were frequent. -The knitted brow had given way to a calm seriousness, as with -trembling lips she said, "I do believe Christ is my Saviour, and that -He will lead me safely home." - -Her parents, too, if not really submissive, were trying to say, -"Thy will be done." - -The coming of Marion at such a crisis was indeed a blessing. Her very -first words as she sat down by the bedside, after offering and -receiving a loving embrace, lit up the face of the dying girl with -a ray of Heaven's own light. - -"O Helen, how I wish I could change places with you! Going home -to Christ, to be with Him forever, to see the dear saints who have -gone before, to talk to them of what Jesus has done for you, to sing -with them the new song, 'Worthy the Lamb,' to sit down by the beloved -John, to see Peter and hear him repeat the story of his grief at the -denial of his Lord, to talk with Moses and Joseph and Samuel, -to think that you will be forever free from the struggles with sin, -that you will be holy as He is holy. Dear Helen, you are indeed to be -envied." - -"Yes, I can thank God now." Helen's smile was radiant. - -Tears were streaming down Mrs. Asbury's cheeks, but wholly -unconscious of them, the lady rose and kissed Marion, saying -softly,— - -"Thank God you have come! Your visit will do us all good." - -Mr. Asbury had not known much of his niece, though he was one of her -guardians. He watched her closely, trying to account for the change -in his household. Every day rendered it more certain that a grim -messenger was hovering about, waiting for an opportunity to enter, -but his approach was no longer dreaded. The chamber where the patient -sufferer lay seemed the brightest in the house. Marion, who had -constituted herself chief nurse, went in and came out with a smile. -Her voice was often heard singing there, not sad, pensive strains, -but notes with a ring of triumph. The names of our blessed Lord, -Jesus, Immanuel, Saviour, were constantly repeated, and dwelt on -lovingly. The very words seemed to give strength, even in the -lingering echoes. - -On one occasion, Mr. Asbury, too anxious to remain long absent from -the house, quietly entered the chamber just as Marion began -a familiar hymn. He had often heard it before, but never with such -a thrill as now. Even the dying girl was joining in the singing. - -"How sweet the name of Jesus sounds -In a believer's ear, -It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, -And drives away his fear. - -"It makes the wounded spirit whole, -And calms the troubled breast; -'Tis manna to the hungry soul, -And to the weary, rest. - -"Weak is the effort of my heart, -And cold my warmest thought; -But when I see Thee as Thou art, -I'll praise Thee as I ought. - -"Till then I would Thy love proclaim -With every fleeting breath; -And may the music of Thy name -Refresh my soul in death." - -Gazing into that rapt face, so elevated above all the pains and -sorrows of earth, the father could not doubt that the prayer in these -last lines was answered. The soul was refreshed, invigorated, and -made infinitely blessed by the music of that precious name. A prayer -rose to Heaven from one hitherto unused to prayer, "Breathe, O Lord, -into my soul such love for Thee as may fill my heart with peace and -joy when I go down to the dark valley." - -The end came at last, suddenly, though long looked for. The messenger -was not unwelcome. He was greeted with a smile so sweet, so rapt, -that all gazed in wonder. Calmly the dying girl put her hand in his, -while Marion in a clear voice repeated the inspired words, "'Though I -walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; -for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.'" - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE MUSIC TEACHER. - -THE triumphant death of the eldest daughter was followed by marked -religious improvement in the family. Both Mr. and Mrs. Asbury -publicly confessed their faith in Christ. The family altar was -erected with this inscription, "As for me and my house, we will serve -the Lord." - -Marion, too, received a new impetus in her chosen work,—the work of -a soul-winner. - -"I want to be a missionary," was her reply to her uncle, when he was -urging her to remain permanently in his family. "I have already begun -to make many projects for the poor in New York City." - -"But, Marion, you are too young, too attractive, to go alone among -the poor." - -"Don't say too attractive, uncle. I want to be as attractive as -possible. Understand me," she added, laughing, with a visible -heightening of color, "I want to be loved and trusted; and I thank -God that I am—am not repulsive in appearance. Too young I certainly -am to go alone; and that is why I have kept dear old Hepsey. -Aunty thinks me obstinate, incorrigible, because I don't dismiss the -poor old creature, as she calls her, and have a fashionable French -maid. Dear aunty! I'm afraid she would think me a fit subject for the -lunatic asylum if she knew where Hepsey and I go." - -"I'm afraid, Marion, that I shall have to agree with Mrs. Williamson -that you are a little wilful. Put yourself in my place, and ask -yourself whether it would be right for me to consent to your going -into those infected regions in New York. You might catch small-pox, -or cholera, or something dreadful." - -She caught his arm, and gave it a loving squeeze, then with an arch -glance in his face, exclaimed, "You ought to praise me for telling -you all this. I have never told Uncle nor Aunt Williamson. -But seriously, uncle, I haven't a particle of fear. The sanitary -arrangements in a city like New York are excellent. I love life too -well, and I have too great a work in it to put myself in danger. -Besides, I have the earnest approval of dear Helen. I talked with her -more freely than I ever did with any one, and she, standing on the -border land between this life and the next, with Heaven's own light -on her, said,— - -"'Go on, Marion. Yours is a blessed work. God will protect you -in it.' Oh, how that benediction has encouraged me!" - -What could Mr. Asbury answer to such pleading? - -And so Marion had gone on, from step to step, till Mr. Williamson -was fain to resign his ward to other and firmer hands. Her aunt, -having exhausted all the adjectives in her denunciations, and having -informed her thousand and one friends that her niece was a bigoted -fanatic, who, if permitted, would convert their house into an asylum -for paupers, coolly turned her back upon her, entirely ignoring her -existence. - -In consequence of all this, Marion's twenty-first birthday found her -in apartments of her own, with Hepsey for her confidential adviser; -not satisfied, as her aunt explained, with a life of luxurious -refinement, such as befitted her wealth and position in society, -but actually engaged as music teacher in Madame La Vergne's -institute. - -This last step, indeed, had been earnestly protested against by her -Uncle Asbury, and she was obliged to bring all her powers of coaxing, -arguing, and pleading to bear upon him before he would yield a -reluctant consent. - -"These young girls are just entering life," was her concluding plea, -"without either chart or compass to guide them. They will by and by -exert a powerful influence either for good or evil. In no other way -can I so readily gain an influence over them. If I can win only one -of them to higher aims in life, will it not be worth the effort?" - -Even Mrs. Asbury expostulated with her niece. "You are free," -she urged, "to go into any society you please, and you surely can -find young ladies quite as much in need of good influences as those -connected with Madame La Vergne's school. You will, when too late, -perhaps, find it very irksome to be confined to certain hours." - -"Now aunty, dear, don't you turn against me. I have thought so much -of this plan, and my conscience approves, but I want your approval -also. Well, I may as well confess it; there are certain reasons why I -want to influence these particular girls, two of whom are in danger. -They were my pets when I was their schoolmate, and think I have -already gained their confidence." - -"After all that is said," resumed Mr. Asbury "you have power to do as -you please. You are absolutely your own mistress, with an independent -fortune, but—" - -Marion drew up her queenly form and for an instant looked seriously -displeased, but quickly recovering herself, said, "I'm sure, uncle, -you do not mean to hurt me. You and aunty are all I have who really -and truly love me, so if you positively refuse your consent to my -devoting a few hours in a day to an employment which is congenial -to me, with the hope of being useful to two motherless girls, I will -relinquish my project." - -Mr. and Mrs. Asbury glanced at each other as Marion quietly left the -room, when with a laugh the gentleman said,— - -"What a way the girl has of carrying all before her. She must try her -plan, I suppose. I wonder who those two girls are." - -And Marion did try it. How well she succeeded in her efforts for -their good will be revealed in the pages of our book. Her life was a -busy one. Often, when she retired to rest, both body and brain were -weary, and yet she was very happy. In her own home she tended her -flowers and fed her birds with a song on her lips. She met her -friends with a smile so sweet, joyous, and free from care that they -envied her. Naturally, she was overflowing with fun; indeed, her -vivacity, her quickness at repartee, made her the life of any circle, -and her company, while she resided with her uncle, was sought by the -young of both sexes. - -It was not her intention to exclude herself wholly from society, -but she was resolute in her determination not to become a slave -to fashion, the degrading effects of such slavery having, even at her -age, been forced on her notice. - -"I never saw any one who enjoyed life more than Miss Howard," was the -remark of an old gentleman, after watching her at a musical party. -She was surrounded by a group of young people to whom she was -relating a story, the arch expression on her face bringing into play -all her dimples. Gradually one and another, some advanced in life, -drew nearer, eager to share in the enjoyment. Perceiving this, Marion -skilfully drew her story to a close, and engaged others in -conversation, asking questions, and showing herself so anxious -to please that a half-hour passed most delightfully. - -"Singular being," muttered Mr. Lambert, an irascible old man who had -been introduced to her. "Not a word of scandal, thirty-five minutes, -and no gossip. Pshaw! Fact, no talk about religion either. A strange -fanatic that." - -Stranger still, perhaps, that the old man persistently lingered in -the neighborhood of Miss Howard, leaning forward to catch every word, -drinking in the musical ripple of laughter, which Marion's friends -used to call one of her greatest charms, watching the pure, fresh -countenance, the merry, earnest eyes, until the ice about his heart -began to thaw. When they parted, to no one's surprise more than to -his own, he extended his hand, and gave hers a warm pressure as he -said,— - -"I am glad that I have met one who has no trouble." - -"I am an orphan," responded Marion, tears suddenly dimming her eyes, -"but I have a dear Father who is so very good to me." - -"You do love life then, even though your parents have left you." - -There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice which made her pity him. - -"Oh, yes; I am very happy to be alive. There is so much to be done. -I envy nothing so much as the leisure hours some do not know what -to do with. Yes, it is good to live." - -"What can you find to employ other people's leisure beside your own?" - -She gave one quick, earnest glance into his face, paused a moment, -and then answered,— - -"I try to make others happy." - -She was turning away when he caught her hand, and with a strange -twitching around his mouth, said,— - -"You seem to be in earnest. I, who doubt every one, find it hard to -doubt you. If you mean that you try to help the poor, you will find -it a thankless task. It doesn't pay." There was intense bitterness in -his tone. - -"But, my dear sir, that is because you go to the wrong paymaster. -He has promised that even a cup of cold water given for His sake -shall receive its reward." - -"Poor man! Doubting every one, endured only for the sake of your -money; how I pity you," was Marion's reflection, as she drove swiftly -with Hepsey beside her. "I wish I could give you a lesson in true -happiness. I'll try!" - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS. - -ALL this had occurred long before our first introduction to the -young lady. She still continued to give lessons in music at Madame -La Vergne's school, but received no compensation except in the case -of three wealthy pupils. The amount received from these three just -defrayed the expense for tuition, etc., for two misses she was -educating. One of these, Annie Leman, gave promise of great -proficiency in music. - -Marion had speedy occasion to remember her resolution with regard to -Mr. Lambert. She was making some visits in a street crowded with -tenement houses, and had for the moment become separated from Hepsey. -With a basket on her arm she was trying to make her way up a crazy -flight of stairs when she heard a quick step behind her. - -"You have caused me a pretty race," shouted a man's voice, which she -instantly recalled as belonging to her irascible friend. "Good for -heart complaint, very!" putting his hand upon his breast and -breathing quickly. Possessing himself of her basket, he lifted the -cover, and said with a sneer, "Just as I supposed; tea and sugared -dainties—ought to be arrested—idiotic—pests to society—humbug -—sentiment and nonsense!" He was muttering away, when he caught her -look of pity, which rendered him furious. - -"How dare you come here?" he shouted. "You, who claim to belong to -decent society. You, a chit of a girl, alone and unprotected in such -a region of filth and pollution." - -Marion's cheeks flushed with anger, and she was going to retort in a -like strain, but something in his appearance checked her. - -He looked so thin and wan and friendless. Suddenly the anger faded -away and with a smile she held out her hand for the basket, saying -playfully,— - -"If you had waited a minute, you would have seen that I am not alone -here; and I have good company while you are near to protect me." - -"Nonsense!" His mouth twitched and she was sure his eyes twinkled at -this unexpected retort. When finding herself mistress of the -situation, she asked,— - -"How dare you come here? It is very dangerous," pointing to the -staircase, which Hepsey at this moment was trying to climb. - -"Saw you—thought you—danger—better send police—not fit for -one of your sex." - -He turned off into one of the filthy rooms, and they heard him -scolding the inmates as though he enjoyed it. - -"What a brute!" muttered Hepsey; but Marion Only laughed, adding, -"I'm not a bit afraid of him." - -As they were leaving the court he came up out of a cellar and joined -them. - -"Delightful vicinity; very healthy, too!" pointing to a stagnant pool -of filth in which a pig was wallowing. He shrugged his shoulders, -chuckling with mirth. - -"I see you enjoy it as much as we do, Mr. Lambert. It's so good for -the spirits to see people enjoying themselves." A group of boys were -playing marbles on the uneven pavement, and scarcely moved for them -to pass. - -"Get out of the path," he shouted, striking his cane right and left. -"Don't you see you're in the way of your betters?" - -"Oh, Mr. Lambert!" exclaimed Marion, "you have hurt that boy," as one -of the lads put his hand to his head, sending after them a terrible -oath. - -"Pshaw! they're not tender—good for them—business to get out of -the way." But when they were about to turn out of the street and -parted company, they saw him hurrying back to the group, shaking his -cane and shouting, "Wait! Wait!" - -Curious to know what he would do, Marion went back to the head of the -street, and saw the eccentric old man throw a handful of coins to the -boys, as he could not get them to wait for another beating. - -"What a disappointed life he must have had," she said to Hepsey, -after walking in silence for some minutes. "I wonder whether he has -any heart left." - -"Not likely, miss," was the brief reply. - -A few weeks later Marion was having quite a jubilee in her parlors. -She had invited all the older classes in the mission school, and was -entertaining them with a play called "Shadows." At the end of the -back parlor was a wide door across which a white curtain was -stretched, and the children sitting in the darkened rooms saw behind -the curtain scenes which made them open both eyes and mouth -in astonishment. A man was sitting in a chair in a doctor's office -and the physician was examining him. First the outside of his head, -then the inside, taking out with pincers, one tooth after another and -putting them in again, taking from the patient's throat tumblers, -plates, long-handled kitchen spoons, a hammer, and at last an -umbrella, which had to be pulled and jerked, till the patient -shrieked. - -They were in the midst of all this when Marion heard a familiar voice -muttering,— - -"Fool's play,—miserable waste—time,—money,—better send them to -the penitentiary at once." - -Since their late interview Marion had thought much of the strange, -lonely old man, and had nearly made up her mind that he only tried to -disguise his real feelings by his outlandish manner. She gave him -her hand cordially, as she said,— - -"I did not invite you to my party, Mr. Lambert, but I am very glad -you came. I was just needing some help. My doctor in there needs a -new patient: come, I will introduce you to him." - -"Patient, eh! Well, I need a doctor badly enough. What do you want me -to do?" - -"Only to have your head cut off, sir." - -"Hem! modest request,—very civil, must say. My head is as 'valuable -to me as—yours, for instance." - -But he followed her to the hall, from which they could pass to the -room in the rear. - -"Your head will be restored in as good a condition as it is now," she -explained, with an arch smile. - -Presently the children saw the old gentleman take his seat in the -chair, his long beard distinctly visible through the curtain. - -"What do you complain of?" they heard the doctor ask. - -"Liver!" shouted the patient. "Haven't slept a wink for ten years." - -"Not liver, but conscience,—diseased conscience." This was Miss -Howard's voice. "It needs reorganizing, sir. It affects the whole -body, sir. I shall begin with the head and cut away all the diseased -part until we come to soundness, sir." - -"Is this the way you treat your patients? I'll not stand it. Cut off -my head, indeed!" - -"Absolute necessity, sir. If you wish to be cured, there must be no -delay." - -"Pretty sight for the public,—man minus head." - -"My salve, sir, my famous Royal Recuperative Salve, known throughout -the world, sir, will make your head grow again in a few hours, sir." - -"Don't believe a word of such humbug; but cut away; something must be -done." - -The spectators held their breath as they saw the knife cut deep into -the flesh, then heard the saw cracking the bone, and, presently, -after a terrible groan, the head was severed from the body and thrown -to the floor. - -"Just in time, sir," exclaimed the doctor, cheerfully. "Disease -checked in time; heart and lungs, and liver too, all right. Now for -the salve!" They saw him rub the neck thoroughly with ointment from -a box, and then the patient was carefully moved from the chair. - -The children remained in their seats awestruck, but the gas was relit -and Miss Howard came into the parlor looking particularly smiling. -Wonder of wonders. It was scarcely fifteen minutes before the patient -appeared, leaning on the arm of the doctor, his head erect and firm -as ever. - -"Miraculous cure," he muttered. "Yes, I'll write an account for your -advertising paper. Head all right; little tenderness here, that's -all," pointing to his throat. - -"Then," said Dr. James, laughing heartily, as he took off his false -mustache, "I will bid you good day, sir, and wish you joy of your new -head." - -Mr. Lambert threw himself into a chair and went off into convulsions -of laughter. - -"Outdoes the theatre by all odds. Hurrah for the Royal Recuperative -Salve to cure diseased consciences! I'll take twenty bottles! -Hurrah!" - -In the mean time Marion took the children behind the curtain and -explained to them the method by which these wonders were -accomplished. She recalled James, to show them that he only passed -his hand down by the side of the throat, when Hepsey, concealed from -view, passed to him tumblers, umbrella, etc., all of which, in the -shadow, seemed to come from the throat. - -The decapitated head was made of pasteboard, cut to resemble an old -man with a beard. - -The apartments occupied by Marion were situated in a fashionable part -of the city. Wishing to be entirely independent, and yet desirous of -avoiding the publicity of a hotel, she had persuaded Mr. and Mrs. -Mitchell, friends of her parents, to hire this house next to a hotel -and allow her the entire use of the second floor. Her meals being -sent in from the table d'hôte, she could indulge her hospitality -without burdening her friends, who were advanced in age. Besides -Hepsey, she had a boy of sixteen years, whom she employed in various -ways, accompanying her in stormy weather in her visits to the poor, -going errands, etc. This boy, Jim, or, as she called him, James -Kelly, was one of the first-fruits of her mission work, and, being -an orphan like herself, she was deeply interested in his welfare. - -At the death of her parents, their home in the country was rented, -the furniture, with the exception of certain costly articles, -pictures, etc., being allowed to remain in the house. These had been -brought to the city, and now beautified her pleasant home. Marion had -a passion for flowers, and at her own expense had built out from her -parlor a small conservatory, which was filled with her favorite -plants. One seldom saw her without a bud of some kind doing service -for a brooch at her throat; and in her calls upon the sick, a few -fresh-cut violets or a sweet rose-bud proved a great help in gaining -the confidence she so earnestly sought. - -Believing, as she did, that our social qualities were given us to be -cultivated, our young friend gave frequent entertainments, always -supported by the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell. To further her -own plans she selected games, encouraged charades, improvised -characters, occasionally taking part herself, on which occasions -she abandoned herself to the enjoyment with the freshness of a child. - -"I believe," she responded to a Christian friend, who was taking her -to task for encouraging a taste for the theatrical,—"I believe that -I have done more good by my charades than I could have hoped for in -any other way. In one instance I have in mind, at a critical period -for a young favorite, I persuaded her to come to a charade I got up -especially for her; and I am satisfied the result was happy. She was -in danger of giving way to evil influences; her conscience troubled -her; she became very irritable. I had a little talk with her, took -her with me to visit a poor family, who were indeed rich in faith, -and then invited her to my entertainment. She came to me the second -day after and, with a burst of joyful tears, threw herself into my -arms, exclaiming,— - -"'I'm so happy: the struggle is over. Oh, I can never tell you how I -thank you!' She had given up the acquaintance of one who was leading -her astray, who would have made her a wretched husband, who had -denounced Christians as gloomy fanatics, who considered laughing a -sin, etc. My party, mirthful and gay as it was, commended itself to -her conscience; even the play itself conveyed to her excited mind a -high moral sentiment, as I had intended. She went home, passed the -night pacing the floor, while she asked help of God to decide aright. -She is now an earnest, cheerful, Christian worker. Unsolicited, she -left the fashionable church which she had been attending, and is my -powerful alto singer at our mission." - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -PLEASANT PROJECTS. - -ON Ethel's fifth birthday she claimed the promise of her mother,— -that she should sit up to family prayers. Except on Sunday night, -when supper was served at an earlier hour than on other days, it was -her habit to eat her simple meal of bread and milk and be in bed -before the ringing of the supper-bell. - -Sitting up for prayers was quite an era in her young life. No sooner -was the meal concluded than she brought her low chair and placed it -close to Mr. Angus. It was the custom to sing a hymn before reading -the Scriptures, and the pastor held the book so that Ethel could look -on the page with him. As he named the hymn he merely remarked, "It is -pleasant to have all join in this social worship." - -The child, considering herself included in this invitation, as indeed -she was, began in a low timid tone to sing her own little hymn, but -presently, becoming used to the sound of her voice, sang so loud as -almost to drown the tones of the piano, upon which Annie was playing. -Over and over again she repeated the words, "Jesus, come and make me -good, good, Jesus come and make me good." - -The tune as well as the words were improvised for the occasion, and -did not in the least chord with the notes they were singing. Most of -those present smiled, Gardner tittered behind his book and about -Mr. Angus's mouth a suspicious twitching was noticed, but no one -interfered with the child's evident enjoyment of the occasion. - -"I'm quite sure," remarked Mr. Angus afterward, as he seated Ethel -on his knee, "that Jesus will hear and answer your prayer. Would you -like to learn a hymn to sing with us? Ask your sister to teach you -one, and you can learn the tune also. You have a very good voice." - -"A powerful one, certainly," added her father, laughing. - -Mr. Angus early formed the acquaintance of Mary Falkner, the crippled -girl. As Marion had told him, she was truly happy, though at times a -great sufferer. In every event of her life she recognized a Father's -loving, protecting hand, and was so truly thankful for every favor -received that it was a privilege to bestow kindness. - -On one occasion, when the pastor was sitting by her bedside, -realizing, as afterward he insisted, that he was receiving rather -than giving consolation, the door softly opened and Marion, -unannounced, walked in. Perceiving the visitor, she was retiring when -Mr. Angus rose to leave. - -"Don't go, please," Mary said to Marion, "I was just intending to ask -the pastor to pray." - -Mr. Angus gave the sick girl his hand when his prayer was concluded -saying, as he bent over-her, "Remember your promise to pray for me; -pray that, whether led through a stony or a flowery path, I may have -my Father's guidance as you have." - -Marion drew near the bedside as the pastor left the room, and was not -surprised at the enthusiasm manifested for him by the cripple. - -"He is such a kind friend, so humble, so devout. His prayers raise me -to heaven; and he is mindful of my earthly wants too. Look here," -taking from an envelope a piece of silver, "he always leaves a token -behind him, laying it on my pillow without a word,—sometimes a -dollar, never less than half a dollar." - -"I was sure," answered Marion, in a hearty voice, "that he would be a -comfort to you. You like him so much, I have a great mind to ask you -a question. Have you ever noticed any peculiarity in his prayers or -in his manner?" - -Tears gushed to Mary's eyes which no physical suffering could have -forced from them, and, clasping her hands, she exclaimed, "Oh, how I -wish I could comfort him! And he says I have. He has a deep, abiding -sorrow. It is living sorrow, too. It cannot be grief for the dead. -Once he quite forgot that I was present, and he prayed; but it is too -sacred to repeat. Oh, how my heart ached for him!" - -Mary covered her face and wept. - -"I wish he would unburden his heart to you, Mary. I'm sure you could -comfort him. He is a puzzle to me. There is a weight on his spirits. -I have seen an expression of agony come over his face when he thought -himself unobserved. Well, we can pray God to appear for him. I have -never spoken of him in this way before." - -"Grief is too sacred to meddle with, at least such grief as his, -Marion. I have told my Saviour about it." - -When the young lady left the humble roof she repaired to the station -near by to get her satchel, and found Mr. Angus just sending a -telegram to the city. He advanced eagerly to meet her, holding out -his hand. - -"You are the very one to advise me," he said, his whole face beaming. -"I am a poor physician, but I know something of medicine. I have -learned about Mary's case, and I do not feel hopeless of her -recovery. You live in the city of New York, and have probably heard -of the Home for the Sick." - -"Certainly I have. I often go there to visit my sick friends." - -"Then you will agree with me that, if I can procure a place for her -in that Christian home, she will have a fair chance for recovery." - -"Strange I never thought of it before," murmured Marion, as though -speaking to herself. - -"Not at all strange. It did not occur to me till this morning, and I -have just written a message to Dr. B-, the superintendent, asking to -have a surgeon sent to examine the case. I have myself been an inmate -of the Home, and have the most entire confidence in the care and -skill she would receive." - -"Will they send so far, Mr. Angus? I mean, will there not be great -expense? Excuse me, but I would advise another plan. Mary is a great -favorite of mine; indeed, I am under obligations to her. There is an -eminent surgeon in the next town, whom I will take to see her this -very day. If he gives us hope, I will go to the hospital at once on -my return to the city. I only wish I had thought of it years ago." - -A curious expression on Mr. Angus's face startled Marion, with a -slight shrug of the shoulders, which was strangely familiar to her. -It was as though he had said,—"You are taking the matter out of my -hands with a vengeance." - -Marion laughed aloud. "Don't think me officious in meddling with your -plan," she urged. "I'm a teacher, you know, and accustomed to give -orders." - -"I shall at least claim the pleasure, Miss Howard, of bearing the -expense necessary for placing her in the Home." - -"I'll see about that." Marion gave one of those arch glances which -brought her dimples into full play. When she smiled, it was like a -child's face, pure and fresh, and sweet and loving. For one moment, -as he gazed, Mr. Angus forgot his burden. There might yet be -something bright for him in life. With a deep sigh he shouldered his -burden again, and this time it seemed weightier than ever before. - -They walked in silence for a time, the young lady puzzling herself -to account for the strange associations connected with that peculiar -expression on Mr. Angus's face which had so startled her. Somehow it -was connected with the Home for the Sick. Rousing herself, and -forgetting that his thoughts had not followed hers, she asked,— - -"Is it long since you were an inmate?" - -"Do you mean of the hospital?" - -"Yes." - -"It is five years this very month. It was there I was healed not -only in the body, but the soul. Never did any poor mortal need a -divine physician more than I did. Words cannot express my gratitude -that a merciful Father directed me to that spot. The faithful -chaplain found me weighed to the ground, and persuaded me to allow an -Almighty Arm to be placed beneath me. Pardon me," he added, suddenly -interrupting himself, "I did not remember that to a stranger this -must be a wearisome story. I am not used to forget myself in this -way." - -He turned toward her a face drawn with pain, to meet eyes full of -sympathy, and when she murmured softly the words, "I am not a -stranger, I am a friend," his feelings almost overcame him. - -"Thank you," he said, extending his hand, but instantly withdrawing -it; then, controlling himself by a visible effort, went on, "I found -my Saviour within those blessed walls, and was encouraged both by the -pastor and chaplain to hope that, by consecrating my life to the -service of my divine Master, I might be useful to some poor soul as -burdened as myself." - -"Has not that hope been fulfilled, Mr. Angus? Has not Jesus Christ -kept his gracious promise to you and given you rest? Pardon me, I am -a missionary too. I have thought much of you, and prayed for you, as -I do for all my friends. I have feared that—that you have not cast -all your burden upon Him. You are trying to bear part of it alone. -Sorrow or sin He has atoned for and has promised to take. Oh, do give -it all up to Him! For your own sake, for the sake of those in your -charge, I entreat you, try His love in all its fulness. It cannot, -will not, fail you." - -Her voice trembled in her eagerness. Suddenly catching a glimpse of -his pallid countenance, she stopped short in her walk. - -"You will forgive, you will understand me," she pleaded. "I for a -moment forgot that I am too young to advise you." - -"Miss Howard, even you will turn from me in despair when I ask, -can these hands, which have shed the blood of a brother, ever be -clean? Even you have seen the mark of Cain on my brow." - -Startled as she was, Marion realized that in order to give comfort to -this burdened soul, she must control herself. With a face blanched, -and shaking voice, she repeated the gracious promise,— - -"'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.' Such a promise -holds good, even to the shedder of blood." - -"Do not understand," he exclaimed, in great excitement, "that it was -prompted by malice. It was an accident. I—But the scene is too -ghastly to recall. To no mortal have I ever breathed the words -before. Into the ears of a merciful God I pour my complaint day and -night." - -Into Marion's eyes came a strange light. The color surged back into -her face. Memories of the past, forgotten for years, came rushing -over her. She was wholly unaware that she had stopped again, that her -eyes were fixed on his, that she was trying to read his very -thoughts. It required a great effort to come back to present -realities. "I must say something," was her reflection. "Oh, that I -was sure! God grant I may be!" - -"Mr. Angus," she began, her face beaming with a strange expression of -hope and tenderness, "forgive me for saying it, you have grown -morbid, brooding over your past. With all my heart I thank you for -your confidence, which I consider as sacred as the grave. Let me say -that I look forward confidently to the hour when the sorrow which has -weighed you down to the dust will be driven away like the morning -cloud. Pray for that time as though you believed God has power -to help you. Have entire faith in His promise." - -Before he could answer she had turned into side path and was -presently lost to view. - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE DOCTOR'S DIAGNOSIS. - -ON going to dinner, Marion was not much surprised to hear that the -pastor had requested to be excused from the table on the plea of a -headache. Mrs. Asbury was preparing tea and toast, which the servant -stood waiting to take up on a tray. At this moment Ethel came running -up, her face flushed, exclaiming,— - -"Mamma, may I stay with Mr. Angus? He is sitting in the chair with -his eyes shut, and he looks real sick." - -"I'll carry the tray myself," said Mrs. Asbury, glancing at her -husband. "No, Ethel, stay here till I come back." - -"He is worse than usual," she explained presently, as she brought -back the food untouched. "Ethel, dear, as soon as you have eaten, -you may go to him. Strange what an influence she has,"—turning to -the family. "He asked it as a favor, if I could spare her." - -Mr. and Mrs. Asbury were so occupied with anxiety about Mr. Angus, -whose strength seemed always on the point of giving way, that they -did not notice Marion's abstraction. As they were rising from the -silent meal, she asked,— - -"Can I have the horse and buggy, uncle? I want to drive to N—. I am -going for Dr. Moore to see Mary Falkner." - -"Why not ask him to make a professional call on Mr. Angus?" - -"You might propose it to him, but I doubt whether he would require a -surgeon." - -"That's so; but I mean to have a serious talk with him as soon as he -recovers from this attack. It is wicked for him to neglect these -warnings." - -Annie eagerly offered to accompany Marion to N—; but she only desired -to be alone to have time to recall fleeting memories, to reconcile -coincidences, and decide how it was best for her to make her surmises -known to Mr. Angus. - -She had driven slowly over the four miles to N— before her final -decision was reached. It would be cruel to hold out hopes which might -prove fallacious. "No, I must go home, to make sure. Then, if it be -as I hope and believe what a joy." Marion stopped, wholly unable to -express in words the deep emotions which agitated her. All the time -she was tying her horse to the post, she was saying to herself,— - -"Did she mean murder? An accident is not murder." - -It was with a real effort that she roused herself to tell the -physician her errand. He had just returned from a long drive to -visit a patient, and told her he would accompany her at once after -eating his dinner, and return in the cars. - -On the way Marion related all that she knew of Mary's case, and then -described the arrangements at the Home for the Sick. - -Her enthusiasm made him laugh. "I know all about that," he explained. -"I was one of the staff of house surgeons there at one time, and I -can say it is truly a home. Very few, even of the wealthiest, can -command the care and skill which falls to the lot of the poorest -patient there. I remember a wealthy lady coming with a valuable -servant who had fractured her arm. When the patient was comfortably -placed in bed she was leaving the room, when she met Dr. B-, the -pastor and superintendent. - -"'I want to recommend to your special attention the woman I have just -brought here,' she began. - -"'Certainly, madam,' was his polite answer as he passed into the -ward, 'certainly; all our patients have special attention. She shall -be well cared for.'" - -"I have taken many patients there," rejoined Marion, her eye kindling -with pleasure. "I should say that if there were any favorites, they -are the very sickest and poorest, and sometimes the most repulsive. -But after all, the care of their bodies is only one part. They are -led to think of the end of life, and in their enforced seclusion, -with the most loving influences about them, they often, very often, -come to better thoughts of their Maker, and go out with new hopes and -new resolutions in regard to life." - -Dr. Moore was introduced to the patient by Marion, who only said that -he had called as her friend, to find out whether she could be -relieved by treatment from her spasms of pain. He made a careful -diagnosis of her case, after which he gave her some powders for -temporary relief, bade her take courage, and returned to Marion, -who was waiting in the buggy. - -"I have been to the station, Doctor," she explained "and there is no -train to N- for a couple of hours, so I will take you home. I see by -your face that you have good news for me." - -"Nonsense! A doctor's face goes for nothing. He has to train it to -look expressionless, or he would soon get into trouble." - -"You can't deceive me, Doctor. I know you are going to say she can be -relieved." - -"I will say more. She will always be lame, one limb being shorter -than the other, but, with the help of a thick sole to her shoe, -I don't see why she should not walk about with as little difficulty -as you and I do." - -Marion gave a cry of joy, clasping her hands. "O Doctor!" she -exclaimed, "what a blessed profession yours is! If I were a man -I would be a physician before any other calling. I do thank you -so much. How soon may I take her to New York?" - -"I've been thinking," he said, gayly, "of indulging myself with a -trip to the city. How would it do for you to see Dr. B— and engage -a bed for her, and leave me to take her there?" - -"Will you, Doctor?" She gave him a glance brimful, overflowing with -delight, and he answered,— - -"Yes, I will do all that. I shall be glad of the opportunity to see -the Home once more. Now Marion, I have earned a right to ask you a -question. Why don't you get married?" - -Marion threw back her head and laughed heartily. "Your question is so -entirely unexpected, Doctor, that I shall have to think before I -answer. Well, first, I am too busy to go about the country and select -the right man. Second, I have formed such an elevated idea of the -being whom I would be willing to see in that relation, that in case -I had leisure I should be appalled at the difficulties in my path. -Thirdly, I am just as happy now as I can be. I have my good old -Hepsey and James Kelly, and all my poor people to take care of now. -I'm sure I can't imagine what I should do, even with my ideal man." -The laugh which followed was heart whole. - -"Nevertheless," urged Dr. Moore, "describe this ideal man to me." - -"His image is scarcely distinct enough for that. First of all, he -must be a man who loves God and his neighbor as himself, as our -Saviour has commanded." - -"Humph! I don't know him, but go on." - -"He must be both strong and tender, firm and gentle, courageous, -kind, and courteous, capable of sympathy both in joy and grief. -He must be humble in his opinion of himself." Here a sudden -reflection checked her, and she added, softly, "Not too humble," then -came to an abrupt pause. - -"Appearance and manners," suggested the doctor, without glancing -at her. - -"Poor or rich is of no consequence; but he must have ability. -Whatever his calling is, he must excel in it." - -"Physician preferred, probably." - -"Ye-es, or some kindred profession." - -"Lawyer, eh?" - -"No; oh, no, indeed, not a lawyer!" - -"Minister to a foreign court, perhaps?" - -"No, not connected with politics in any way." - -"There is nothing left but a shoemaker, or a country parson. -Merchants of every grade watch the bills in Congress with eagle eyes. -But how does he look?" - -"Like an athlete." Suddenly catching a twinkle in her companion's -eye, Marion's cheeks and brow became suffused, and she burst out, -"How ridiculous I have made myself! I never thought so much of my -husband before in all my life." - -"I'm well acquainted with him," said the doctor, demurely. "He's all -right; even your parents would be satisfied with him." - -"What can you mean, Doctor?" She was startled now. "Was there ever -such a man?" - -They had reached his home, and he quietly resigned the lines to her -hand. Just as he stepped to the ground, he fixed an earnest eye on -her as he said,— - -"The portrait is excellent, even to the too humble." - -"Doctor! Dr. Moore!" called out Marion, as with an arch smile he was -turning away, "you haven't given me your bill. I shall go to-morrow -to see Dr. B--, and will write you at once; A friend of Mary's is to -bear all expenses of her recovery; and, Doctor, I haven't told you -how very, very grateful I am to you." - -"For approving your choice of a husband?" - -"You know, Doctor, I was thinking of some thing very remote from an -ideal man, whom it is very unlikely I shall ever see. I may tell Mary -now, mayn't I?" - -"Certainly. And in the pleasure you will have in telling her the good -news, you will forgive an old friend of your father for making a -careful diagnosis of your heart." - -He gave her another quizzical glance and turned away. - -"How absurd he is!" murmured the young lady. "How could I have been -betrayed into such nonsense? I wonder whether he was in earnest, in -saying he knew any one to whom the description would fit. He would be -a wonder of goodness, and I—" - -Here Marion astonished the faithful old horse, who was going on in -his quiet jog, by a sudden jerk of the lines and a peremptory order -to quicken his pace. On consulting her watch, she found it nearly -five o'clock. She must call at the thread and needle store, give Mary -the joyful hope recovery, and then hasten home. - -To one who is always looking to her Father in heaven for the gifts -which flow into her daily life it is not surprising, but only an -increased reason for gratitude, when unlooked-for mercies are -bestowed. - -So it was with the poor cripple. As Marion cautiously conveyed to her -the opinion of Dr. Moore that her suffering might be relieved, and in -time perhaps she might be restored to active life and its duties, -the quick gasp, the tightened clasp of her emaciated hands, -the moistened eye raised in silent gratitude to God, were the only -tokens of the fervent thankfulness which almost overcame her. - -When Marion had explained the doctor's view of her case, she went on: -"You must give your pastor the credit of the plan. He was just -sending a telegram to the Home when I met him at the station, and— -and"—she hesitated, surprised at herself for her reluctance to talk -of Mr. Angus—"he offered to bear all the expense of having you -conveyed to New York. But I speedily convinced him that I had the -first claim to that privilege." - -"How good God is, raising up friends for me on every side!" - -"Good by, Mary, for the present. I shall expect to see you very soon -in one of the nice beds at the Home for the Sick." - - - -CHAPTER X. - -A RAY OF HOPE. - -THE family were all seated at the tea-table when Mr. Angus came in -from the street. He apologized for being behind time by saying that -a parishioner had sent for him, and it was a longer walk than he -expected. His countenance bore marks of excitement, but he entered -into conversation with the others, and seemed desirous of averting -attention from himself. - -After family prayer, which directly followed supper, he rose as -though he was going to retire when Ethel caught his hand, saying,— - -"My Marion is going to sing a hymn before I go to bed. Please stay -and hear it." - -Marion had already commenced, and, without noticing who was near her, -went through the hymn. - -"We give thee but thine own, -Whate'er the gift may be, -All that we have is Thine alone, -A trust, O Lord, from Thee. - -"May we Thy bounties thus -As stewards true receive. -And gladly as Thou blessest us, -To Thee our first-fruits give. - -"Oh hearts are bruised and dead, -And homes are bare and cold, -And lambs for whom the Shepherd bled -Are straying from the fold! - -"To comfort and to bless, -To find a balm for woe, -To tend the lone and fatherless, -Is angels' work below. - -"The captive to release, -To God the lost to bring, -To teach the way of life and peace, -It is a Christ-like thing. - -"And we believe Thy word, -Though dim our faith may be, -Whate'er for Thine we do, O Lord, -We do it unto Thee." - -"I propose an amendment, as the congressmen say," she urged, -pleasantly, as she saw Mr. Angus. "Please stay and sing with us, -and then I have some pleasant news for you." - -He joined her instantly at the piano, though she saw that he did so -reluctantly. She turned to the all-inspiring words,— - -"All hail the power of Jesus' name! -Let angels prostrate fall." - -From the tones of his voice, as one verse followed another, she could -detect the change in his feelings. In the last stanza it was evident -his religious fervor had triumphed over his sadness. The tones, rich -and clear, thrilled Marion's heart strangely. Happening to meet his -eye as she was closing the book, she saw there evidence of an -elevation of soul, as though the sentiments of the hymn had roused -him from his gloom. - -"Thank you," was his low response. - -"I expect to leave early in the morning," she said. "I shall go -immediately to see Dr. B———. Dr. Moore is very hopeful in regard -to Mary's cure, though she may always walk lame. She was very -grateful that you had thought of sending her to the Home for the -Sick." - -"I am delighted, Miss Howard. You have indeed been an angel of mercy -to the poor girl. She speaks of your thoughtful kindness as one of -the chief blessings of her life." - -"Isn't it fortunate that Dr. Moore was once house physician there? -and he will convey her to the city himself. No, Mr. Angus," as he -held out his purse, "we cannot permit you to have all the pleasure, -though we gladly share with you. You have done your part in -suggesting the possibility of her restoration, and she has a friend -who will defray all expenses. By the way, if you can spare the time, -she would be glad of a call from you before she leaves home." - -"Duties never conflict, Miss Howard. If you were not so busy among -your pupils, etc., I would express a wish that you would visit a -distressed family I saw to-day. They are in deep waters, and need a -kind friend of their own sex." - -"Who are they?" - -"Mother, daughter, and grandson,—one of the most beautiful boys -I ever saw. The mother is ill, I fear on the verge of consumption. -The daughter, whom I conclude is a widow, is too young and beautiful -to be left to make her own way in the world. The boy, Eugene, won my -heart at once, and under a sudden impulse I asked the mother to give -him to me: I am fond of children." - -"I can easily believe that," she said, with one of her smiles, which -always made his heart so warm. "If I were not very good-natured -I should reproach you with winning away Ethel's love from me. Isn't -she a darling?" - -For answer he bent down and pressed a kiss on the warm, red lips held -up so temptingly to his. The child at this minute had come into the -room to bid him and Marion good night; having done so, she danced -away again, hugging Frances, her favorite dolly, in her arms. - -"'Of such is the kingdom of heaven,'" murmured the pastor, his eye -following her fairy-like figure; "and we are told that unless we are -like them, we cannot be admitted to that glorious home." - -After a pause he added, "Eugene interested me deeply, but not at all -in the way Ethel does. He is as full of mischief as he can hold; -nothing ethereal about him. He is earthly even in his beauty, while -Ethel seems just fresh from heaven. Dear child! I have learned many a -lesson from her." - -"You have interested me deeply in your friends, Mr. Angus. I wish now -I could stay another day at least, but I cannot." - -Recalling the business which sent her home so soon, there was an -earnestness in her voice, as she repeated, "Oh, no, I cannot stay!" -that rather surprised her hearer. Meeting the questioning glance, -it was as much as the impulsive girl could do to check herself from -saying,— - -"I go for your sake, to give you that which will restore peace to -your heart." - -"But I hope to be so successful in my business that I can come again -soon. I will ask Aunt Asbury to visit them, if you wish." - -"It is not a case of poverty,—at least I think not. The mother— -she seems very young—needs sympathy and counsel; she would only -take it from one she loved." - -He seemed to be urging a duty upon her, though he did not so intend -it; and Marion grew excited, wondering whether she ought to write -Dr. B— about Mary, and postpone her other business for another day. - -"I wish I knew which was my duty: I have set my heart on something. -I ought not to have delayed it so long. I have been forgetful of a -sacred charge, and I wish to atone for it as soon as possible." - -She gazed wistfully in his face, longing to give him a ray of the -hope she felt almost sure was in store for him,—almost, not quite. -"If, after all, I am wrong, and he is not the one, it would be -inexcusable in me to excite hopes only to crush them." - -"Miss Howard," he began, unable to endure the sight of her distress, -which by turns suffused her cheeks and blanched them, "can you not -trust me to decide for you?" - -"In almost any other case but this, I could. It would be cruel to -tell you now." She stood one moment, her hands tightly clasped, -her eyes fixed on the carpet; then, with a sudden change, she looked -smiling in his face as she said,— - -"Give me the exact direction to your protégé's, and I'll go to-morrow -morning. I can write this evening to Dr. B—." - -"Uncle Asbury," inquired Marion later in the evening, and when no one -but her uncle and aunt were present, "have you ever mentioned before -Mr. Angus that I have any other income than what I earn from -teaching?" - -"Not a word. He considers you suffering from extreme poverty, and -quite worries himself over the time you lose during your visits -to us. If you press me to tell you the whole truth, he is anxious -lest your love for dress and jewels should involve you in serious -pecuniary embarrassment. He considers that rich silk and point-lace -collar, though extremely becoming, quite beyond your means." - -"Nonsense! Now do be serious. I don't want anybody to know, and -especially strangers like Mr. Angus, that—" - -"You can, if you choose buy up half our congregation, to say nothing -of the poor minister. No, I won't tell him that." - -"Don't tease the child, pa," put in Mrs. Asbury, though laughing -herself. - -"It is from the clergyman especially you wish this important -information kept," questioned the gentleman, his eye twinkling. - -Marion looked really annoyed. "I see I must explain," she began. -"There are some poor people I am going to help. He offered, from -his salary, I suppose, to pay Mary's expenses to the city, etc. -I told him a friend would supply the means, and I don't wish him -to think I am the one." - -"On the principle of the left hand hiding from the right, I suppose. -Yes, I see." With a mischievous glance, he turned to his newspaper, -and Marion, informing her aunt that she intended to make a call on a -sick lady in the morning, and had postponed her return till -afternoon, bade them good-night and retired to her chamber. - -Passing Ethel's room, she found to her surprise that the child was -still awake. - -"Please come in a minute, Marion: I must get up again. I can't -remember whether I have said my prayers. I feel prayers in here," -putting her hand to her breast, "and I can't go to sleep." - -"Well, darling, get up, and I'll kneel with you." - -Ethel began with— - -"Now I lay me down to sleep," - -followed with the Lord's Prayer, then began her own simple petitions. - -"Bless me, dear God, and make me as good as Jesus wants me to be. -Bless papa and mamma and Mr. Angus, and all those I love, and keep -them all from sin and from crying. I thank you for giving me such -a kind papa and mamma. I thank you for sparing them to me so long. -I hope you will spare them as long as you think it is safe, but if -you don't think it safe to-morrow or next day, thy will be done." - -The little head was scarcely on the pillow, when Marion, much amused -by the child's mode of expressing her submission, ran back to the -parlor to repeat it. As she entered she heard Mr. Angus's voice -asking permission to use the buggy at an early hour to go to a -distant part of the town. Seeing her, he explained that, as she had -been kind enough to delay her return to New York in order to visit -this distressed family, he wished to make arrangements to take her -there. - -"It is in a part of the town with which I am least familiar," -he added, "and I should find difficult to direct any one." - -"I am sorry," said Marion, frankly. "I know your rule about your -morning hours for study. I would delay my return longer, but it is -impossible." - -And it had seemed impossible ever since she had agreed to make the -morning visit to his protégés. - -"If he only knew," she said to herself again and again, "how much -depends on my going home. I am confident that package is somewhere -among my papers; and yet it is so strange that I have not seen it for -years. I had forgotten entirely that I had it in possession. I did -sympathize deeply with that poor, friendless girl, an orphan, as I -had so lately become; but, with so many different protégés on hand,— -so many orphans and others whom I have taken to that blessed Home,— -she had passed entirely out of mind, until that peculiar smile of -Mr. Angus and the expressive shrug of his shoulders brought her up -before me. Let me think. When I left Uncle Williamson's, my letters, -papers, etc., were all packed up and sent to my present home. -Strange I haven't seen them. No, some were sent here." - -She gave a scream of joy, and, running to the kitchen for -a hand-lamp, called a servant to go with her to the attic, -where a box marked with her name was stored. - -At the breakfast-table, when Mrs. Asbury remonstrated against her -niece's plans, while she looked so pale and haggard, no one present, -and least of all the pastor, suspected that it was interest in his -future which had kept her till midnight searching among her papers -for what she could not find, that disappointment and bitter regret -that she had not more carefully guarded so sacred a trust had caused -her many tears. - -To add to her embarrassment, Mr. Asbury, just as he rose from the -table, approached her and said, "Marion, I fear it is your pecuniary -situation which troubles you. Promise me that you will apply to me in -any need." - -"Why, pa!" began Annie in surprise; but she never finished her -sentence. Marion, noticing that Mr. Angus was within hearing, gave -her cousin a warning glance, coolly said to her uncle, "I promise," -and then walked away. - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -AN APPEAL FOR SYMPATHY. - -THE family to whom Mr. Angus wished to introduce Miss Howard lived in -a small cottage in the outskirts of the town of N-. - -On their way thither he repeated the impression they had made upon -him,—that they had seen better days. - -"I have been enough among the poor in New York," he said, warming, -with the subject, "to be sure that these are not of the kind who -would ask for assistance, even though they were suffering. I am eager -to know how they will impress you." - -He turned to look in her face, which seemed to be unusually -thoughtful, but with a bright smile, she explained,— - -"I was trying to reconcile irreconcilable facts. For instance, I know -a gentleman in New York who has more leisure and money than he knows -what to do with, and I was wondering why I should be so very busy and -have so little time for work that I like best." - -"I have solved worse puzzles than that, Miss Howard. Can you not -imbue your friend with love for your favorite work? Gentlemen with -too much leisure are not to be classed with the most favored beings." - -"He is one of the most wretched men I know, sarcastic and cynical to -such a degree that his society is shunned by every one; and yet I -can't help pitying him. I believe that he has a passion for making -himself appear worse than he is. I have taken a fancy," she added, -with a hearty laugh, "to try some experiments on him." - -"Of what nature?" - -"Why, I have been told again and again that he has no heart. I am -applying tests to find out the fact for myself; so far, that -important organ seems to be in a state of ossification; but I am not -discouraged." - -"If I were your uncle, I should warn you that ossified hearts, when -wakened from their torpor, sometimes become dangerously active,— -I mean dangerous for their own happiness." - -Marion's eyes twinkled with mirth. "I do not fear too much activity, -I fear too little. But is not that the house?" - -Mr. Angus had told her the child was beautiful; but this had by no -means prepared her for the lovely, enchanting face which burst upon -her as, advancing into the room, a boy of three or four years sprang -out from an inner apartment. - -"Oh, you darling little fellow!" she cried, catching him in her arms, -and bestowing kiss after kiss upon him. So absorbed was Marion in -delight and wonder that she did not notice the entrance of a young -lady from a door in the opposite direction, until the voice of -Mr. Angus saying, "Miss Howard, Mrs. Cheriton," roused her to present -realities. - -"Excuse me," she began, cheeks and chin dimpling with amusement. -"I forgot that I was a stranger,—everything in my admiration -for—." She interrupted herself to place the child on the floor; -but he had no idea of being abandoned so suddenly. He clung tightly -around her neck, his face sparkling with mischief. - -"Genie, don't tease the lady." The mother's voice was soft, and she -spoke with a pretty accent; but the boy paid not the slightest -attention to his mother's mild suggestion. He clung to his new -friend, occasionally holding himself off far enough to look in -her face. - -Catching a glimpse of Mr. Angus's tall form standing over near the -door, his hat in his hand, keen appreciation of the scene stamped on -every feature, Marion's color surged to her very brow. She whispered, -"Go to the gentleman now, Genie," and put the boy to the floor. - -"Will you take a drive with me, Eugene?" - -This being soon arranged, Mr. Angus carried the child to the buggy, -merely saying to Marion,— - -"I will be back in half an hour." - -Mrs. Cheriton looked so very youthful that it was hard for Marion to -believe she could be the mother of Eugene. She was very beautiful, -of the Southern type of beauty,—large, liquid eyes, regular -features, abundant tresses of blue-black hair, which on the present -occasion were wound gracefully around her head, arched eyebrows, -and a pleasant smile when she addressed you. This tout ensemble the -visitor took in at a glance, and all the time she was asking herself, -"Shall I like her?" - -After speaking for a moment of Eugene, Marion said,— - -"Mr. Angus tells me your mother is very ill." - -"Yes; and she has heard your voice. Will you go to her?" - -"Gladly." - -On the bed, but raised almost to a sitting posture, lay a lady. -One glance proved her to be such. There was an air of refinement and -culture about her which proved her to belong to the best-educated -class of society. - -She met Marion's sympathetic glance with an earnest gaze, as though -she would read what manner of spirit she was of; then a beaming smile -lighted her whole face, as she said softly,— - -"You are very welcome, my dear." - -"I felt then," said Marion afterwards to her aunt, "as though I could -take her right into my heart of hearts." What she did at the moment -to show what she felt was to bend over and press her lips to the pale -cheek of the sufferer. - -A few words of explanation as to her present visit,—of sorrow that -it must be a hurried one,—and then Marion said,— - -"I am sure you will not consider my question prompted by curiosity, -if I ask, why are you here in this out-of-the-way part of the town?" - -"Necessity compels it, my dear. I need perfect quiet." - -"Would you prefer the city?" - -"Greatly, in many respects, if I were well." - -"You could have a physician near you there." - -"No physician can avail me now,—at least such is my belief." - -"Except the great Physician." - -An expression of heavenly peace stole over the wan face. She held -Marion's hand in a closer grasp, as she said fervently,— - -"God be praised! He has applied healing balm. My sins, which were -many, are forgiven. Oh, if you knew all, you would not wonder that -I look forward with longing to the hour when he will call me home!" - -"You would feel like a poor sailor I found just redeemed from the -very depths of woe. He was singing from morning to night,"— - -"'Love I much, I'm much forgiven; -I'm a miracle of grace.'" - -Marion's clear voice as she sang the lines rang through the room. - -"Will you sing a hymn for me, Miss Howard?" - -Without a moment's hesitation the young began one which was a -favorite with herself. - -"Whate'er my God ordains is right; -His will is ever just; -Howe'er he orders now my cause, -I will be still and trust. -He is my God: -Though dark my road, -He holds me that I shall not fall, -Wherefore to him I leave it all. - -"Whate'er my God ordains is right; -He never will deceive. -He leads me by the proper path, -And so to him I cleave, -And take content -What he hath sen -His hand can turn my griefs away, -And patiently I wait his day. - -"Whate'er my God ordains is right; -Though I the cup must drink, -That bitter seems to my faint heart, -I will not fear nor shrink. -Tears pass away -With dawn of day; -Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart, -And pain and sorrow all depart. - -"Whate'er my God ordains is right; -My Light, my Life is he, -Who cannot will me aught but good,— -I trust him utterly; -For well I know, -In joy or woe, -We soon shall see, as sunlight clear, -How faithful was our Guardian here. - -"Whate'er my God ordains is right; -Here will I take my stand, -Though sorrow, need, or death make earth -For me a desert land. -My Father's care -Is round me there; -He holds me, that I shall not fall, -And so to him I leave it all." - -Before she had ended, the door softly opened and was left ajar. - -Marion started at the sound of wheels. "There is Mr. Angus!" -she exclaimed; "but I cannot go yet. I feel as though I had known you -all my life. I have to go to New York to-day. I want you to go to the -city. Why will you not come to me? I have room for all of you. -Yes, that will be best. It will be next to having my mother with me. -I can insure you a quiet room. Will you come?" - -Mrs. Douglas closed her eyes; tears called forth by such kindness -from a stranger, trickled through the eyelids. Striving for -self-control she said,— - -"Mr. Angus told me you were an angel of mercy. Never did any -strangers in a strange land need friends more than we do. I have -prayed night and day that my heavenly Father would raise up for my -poor Juliette and Eugene Christian friends. He has answered my -prayers. I will consider your proposal to go to New York, where board -within our means can perhaps be obtained near you. For Juliette's -sake I would be glad to be there." - -"I regret so much that business of importance calls me home to-day, -but I will find a place at once, if you will not accept my -invitation. I am sure I can promise for Mr. Angus that he will be -a good friend to you and attend to your removal." - -"Mamma, I'm going home with Mr. Angus," shouted Genie, bursting into -the outer room. "I'm tired of staying here." - -"Miss Howard,"—the voice was so full of solemnity that Marion bent -over the bed again to listen, her breath coming quickly,—"you do -not seem like a stranger. Mr. Angus told me I might confide in you. -If I had time and strength I would tell you the sad story of my past -life. I was gay and thoughtless, living for this world alone. I have -been justly punished. Some time, if God gives me strength, I would -like to tell you my sad story. If, after you know all, you are -willing to be a friend to the dear ones I leave behind, the only -burden left me will be removed." - -"I will gladly listen." - -With moistened eyes she had just answered, when Mrs. Cheriton opened -the bedroom door, saying, "Your husband has returned, madam, and asks -whether you are ready." - -Marion bent over the bed and kissed the sick lady, glad to hide her -blushing cheeks caused by Mrs. Cheriton's blunder. Then saying,— - -"Please explain that Mr. Angus is only my friend. I shall see you -again before long," hastened to the door. - -Eugene was still in the arms of the clergyman and it required much -persuasion on the part of his mother to coax him to remain with her. - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -MARION'S SICKNESS. - -THE drive back to town was a silent one, and not until they were -within a short distance from home was a word spoken. Mr. Angus seemed -absorbed in thought, and his companion, with the added care of the -friends she had just left, was little inclined for conversation. -A sigh from her at last caused the gentleman to ask,— - -"Have I done wrong in bringing to your notice these strangers?" - -"No, sir. No, indeed. What a dear old lady she is! And not very old -either. Sorrow, I imagine, more than time, has aged her. Eugene is -a perfect dream of boyish beauty." - -"What of the young mother?" - -Marion sighed again. "I don't know. I have been trying to decide. -I have seen somebody whom she resembles. She does not attract me as -her mother does." - -"Eugene scarcely has a feature like hers." - -"No, he is more like you than like her." - -She had entirely forgotten her high praise of the boy's beauty; but a -little twitching about the muscles of his mouth proved that he -remembered and was far from displeased. - -"Do you know," she asked quickly, as they drew up to the door of her -uncle's house, "that I am going to take your new parishioners to -New York? For some reason, Madam Douglass prefers being there, and I -have promised for you that you will aid them in their removal." - -"Pecuniarily, do you mean?" - -"Certainly not. Only as a friend, in getting to the right train, -etc.; but even that is not necessary: Uncle Asbury will attend -to it." - -"Just as you please, Miss Howard." - -She sprang from the carriage without giving him an opportunity to -help her, and ran into the house. His voice, so sad and cold, had -hurt her. Seeing no one in the hall, she went in haste to her own -room, to pack her satchel for her journey home, saying to herself -meanwhile,— - -"If he knew all that I do, and all that I can guess about his sad -past, and how shamefully I have neglected my promise to that poor, -dying girl, he would be justified in never speaking to me at all." - -At the dinner-table Marion gave a description of Madam Douglass and -Eugene, merely mentioning Mrs. Cheriton as the boy's mother; and -easily won a promise from her aunt to go and see them. "I wish, -aunty," she added, after the conversation had turned to another -subject, "that you would notice whether Mrs. Cheriton resembles any -one you know. Her eyes haunt me. I have tried in vain to account for -the resemblance." - -Once on the train, Marion acknowledged to herself the need of rest. -With one hand to her throbbing temples, she took memorandum book and -pencil from her pocket. Two visits to some very destitute families -ought to be paid, and Hepsey must take her place for this time. -She noted down the following words: "Board for three, not too far -away. Home for the Sick. Letter to Dr. Moore. Search for lost -package." - -The carriage, with James on the box with the driver, met her at the -station, as she had telegraphed him to do. Seizing a letter from -Dr. B-, she read hastily, and, finding that Mary could be received at -once on the recommendation of Dr. Moore, countermanded her order to -be driven to the hospital, and said "Home." Here she only remained -long enough to dash off a letter to Dr. Moore, enclosing the one from -the superintendent, and then went to Mrs. Mitchell for advice about a -boarding-place. Four or five were advertised as desirable situations; -and Marion, putting by her anxiety to begin her search for the -package, hurried off in the carriage to examine for herself. Two or -three hours were consumed in going from one house to another, finding -each that she visited more unsuitable than the one before it, and at -last only engaged rooms conditionally, in a private family, -recommended to her by a friend, whom she met near the door. Enclosing -the street and number to her aunt, she requested that Madam Douglass -might be informed of the place and price, and an answer returned at -once. - -Hepsey was just about starting on her mission when she caught a -glimpse of her young mistress, and exclaimed, in great excitement,— - -"You are ill, and have not told me. I must see you in bed before I -go out." - -It was indeed true that a terrible lassitude had been stealing over -her ever since the excitement of the morning. For two nights she had -scarcely slept, and since breakfast she had barely tasted food. - -"A cup of tea will revive me," she said, trying with a smile to allay -Hepsey's too evident anxiety. - -Then feeling herself grow more languid, she said, aloud,— - -"I can't give up now. I must find that package, I must, if I search -all night." - -The tea was brought and eagerly swallowed, but the temples still -throbbed, and at last the young girl reluctantly acknowledged that -she felt ill and must rest for a few hours. - -Hepsey quietly laid off her bonnet and shawl, called James, and gave -him the address of the poor she was going to visit, with directions -as to procuring them food, etc., and then devoted herself to her -young mistress. - -An hour later Marion woke from the heavy sleep into which she had -fallen with a shriek of distress. Her eyes were wide open, but she -did not recognize the faithful nurse who was bending over her. -A physician was instantly summoned, who found her in a high state -of mental excitement. - -"How long has this been coming on? I ought to have been called -earlier," he said, in some irritation. - -"She only returned from the country this afternoon," explained Hepsey. - -He went back to the bedside, re-examined the pulse of his patient, -listened to her incoherent mutterings, and then said gravely, -"She has symptoms of a contagious fever. I have had a few cases -already among the poor." - -"James has just returned from an errand to one of her protégés, -a mission boy. He had just been buried, and a flag was hung from the -window to prevent people from entering." - -"Well, if people will go round to these filthy haunts, they,— -but it's no use to think of that now. I'll do my best to save her. -I'll have a flag out here, unless you will promise that no one shall -come in: perfect quiet is a necessity." - -Hepsey promised, but the next morning, after a short absence from the -room, she found a young lady sitting by the bed, bathing the hot -temples of the sufferer. - -"I have come to stay," she said softly, as she rose and beckoned -Hepsey into the hall. "Mrs. Mitchell told me last night how ill -she is, and I have come prepared to act as nurse. You will let me -help you"; and the young girl gazed wistfully in Hepsey's face. - -It was Annie Leman, a favorite protégé of Marion, whom she was -educating for a music teacher, and, looking in her earnest face, -Hepsey had not the heart to deny her request. - -"We'll see what the doctor will say," she murmured, and then they -both returned to the room. - -What the doctor said at first sight of this girlish figure was, -"I won't have her here." What he said after the second day was, -"What could we do without her?" - -And so the sun rose and set while in that quiet room the fever raged, -for Marion had been in the full vigor of health, and the heated blood -rushed rampant through her body. Sometimes she tried to spring from -the bed, calling out,— - -"I must find it," or "Here it is," and laughed aloud for joy. -At other times she lay for hours in a heavy stupor, while rich and -poor besieged the door with inquiries concerning her. - -Among others who came was Dr. Moore. He had safely conveyed Mary -Falkner to the Home for the Sick, where he learned from Dr. B— that -Miss Howard was dangerously ill, and went at once to her house -to learn who was her physician, when they came together to see her. - -Marion woke suddenly, to find her old friend from N— bending over -her. A momentary consciousness caused her to call him by name, and -then, associating him at once with her friends in Grantbury, -she said,— - -"Tell him there is hope," then fell back into heavy sleep. Every -morning came a bunch of cut flowers of the choicest varieties from -Mr. Lambert, with a request to Mrs. Mitchell to be informed whether -"any change had taken place in Miss Howard." - -Day after day as it passed proved to all Marion's friends that the -young girl who glided so noiselessly around the bed was possessed -of a native skill just fitting her to take a part in the struggle -between life and death going on in that chamber. She was never seen -to sleep, and yet she never seemed weary. Not a movement of that -prone figure escaped her notice, not an order or prescription of the -physician was forgotten. When the doctor asked in wonder,— - -"What sustains you?" her brief answer was, "Love, sir. Love and -gratitude. She deserves from me all that I can give her." - -Hepsey told Mrs. Asbury, who came from Grantbury to see her niece,— - -"We have all cause to thank God for sending Miss Annie here. -The doctor says, if our dear Marion lives through this dreadful time, -it will be the loving care, which, with the blessing of God, -has brought her through." - -If Mr. Lambert believed what he was so fond of affirming, that the -poor are a thankless set, who will steal your purse the minute your -back is turned, his faith in this assurance might have been shaken by -the genuine sorrow manifested during Miss Howard's illness. - -One instance of affection and gratitude he was himself a witness of. -He was approaching Miss Howard's door early one morning with a bunch -of exquisite blossoms in his hand, carefully shielded from sun and -wind by the tissue paper covering, when he saw a little girl -approaching from the opposite direction. She had on a thin shawl, -which she held out from her person as though shielding something -precious. Curiosity prompted the gentleman to watch and see what she -was going to do. He held back till she ran down the basement steps -and timidly rang the bell of the lower door of Mr. Mitchell's house. - -Cautiously he stepped forward, and saw her hold out one little pink. - -"Will you please give the kind lady this?" she asked, in a pleading -tone. "When I was down with fever, she brought me a beautiful bush -all covered with flowers, and she told me how to water it, and put it -in the sun. This flower came out last night. There are no more, or I -would have brought them. She's been ever so good to mammy and me." - -There were tears in her voice as she spoke, and the listener, -grumbling under his breath at his own folly, put up his finger -to prevent a tear from falling from his own eye. - -"What's your name?" asked the woman at the door. - -"Nanny Morse,—she'll know." - -"Well, I'll see that she has it,—if it's only to hold in her poor, -unconscious fingers," she added, as the child, after an earnest -"Thank you, ma'am," turned away. - -Mr. Lambert afterwards confessed that he felt like throwing his -costly flowers into the street. He did not, however; he rang the -bell, delivered them to James, the servant in waiting, received the -sadly spoken message, "No change, sir," and then hurried away, -muttering,— - -"World upside down; just my luck; only girl in all the crowd worth -that," snapping his finger; "and she going—" - -He stopped suddenly at sight of the little flower-girl again. - -She was talking to a disreputably dressed lad, who, with a rimless -cap stuck on one side of his head, was evidently annoyed at the -detention. - -"Don't go, Jack. 'T would grieve her, even in heaven, if she knew -you'd turn back to the bad after all she's done for yer." - -"I'm hungry, and if I go home mammy'll beat me, sure." - -"No, she won't, Jack,—not when I tell her about the kind lady. -Come, go with me." - -"Take this and buy a cake," exclaimed Mr. Lambert, thrusting some -silver pieces into Nanny's hand. - -Not waiting for any thanks, he strode off in the opposite direction, -muttering, "Old fool! Just like you! Meddling, always meddling." - -After using his handkerchief vigorously, he went on: "What business -is it of mine, if she dies to-day? I don't care. Yes, that's a lie: -you do care, you old sinner! You only say that because you're so -hateful,—you know you care. You'll never see another like her. -There!" - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -ANNIE'S LETTER. - -THE third week of Marion's sickness there came a crisis and hope. -Yes, it was evident to all there was hope now, where fear had -prevailed. The doctor's mouth, which had been so firm and rigid, -relaxed; and there was a suspicion of a smile. Hepsey's eyes were -less watery, James opened and shut the outer door in a jubilant -manner, proud of being the one to say to the anxious inquirers,— - -"The doctor begins to hope." - -On Annie Leman's pale face had come beams of light, which made her -beautiful. Scarcely conscious of her own action, she went forward -to the physician, caught his hand and pressed it in both hers. - -"How can I thank you sir," she said, softly. - -"Pshaw, Miss Annie! She owes more to you than to me. We can both -thank God. She has been so close to the open gates, I think she can -tell us something of what is inside." - -One Thursday morning, twenty-six days from the time she left -Grantbury, Marion opened her eyes and the light of consciousness -dawned in them. - -For one instant there was a bewildered expression as she gazed at her -faithful watcher, who sat by her side; then she smiled, and said -faintly,— - -"It's Annie." - -"Yes, dear." - -"How came I in bed? I remember I felt ill in the cars." - -"You have been sick, but you are much better now. Take a spoonful -of this, dear, and go to sleep again." - -"Lie down by me, Annie, and I'll try to sleep. You look pale and -tired." - -Annie smoothed the pillow, changed Marion's position, and then lay -down on the outside of the bed, as she had done so many times during -the last weary weeks. - -"Miss Howard's excellent constitution is doing wonders for her," -remarked Dr. Ross, as, after the crisis, she seemed to make a leap -into the arms of health. "No more drugs: Nature will do her own work -now." - -This was Marion's first experience of severe illness, and it was -difficult to make her understand that for a time she must be -economical of her newly gained energies. - -"I feel so strong," she insisted, "that I ought to be waiting on -Annie, instead of her waiting on me." - -"Speaking of Miss Annie," said the doctor, "I have two little girls -old enough to learn music. By-and-by, when you are well, I shall ask -her to take them into her care." - -"How do you know she is competent, Doctor? You ought to consult me," -urged Marion, with her old beaming smile, as she saw that her -favorite pupil had difficulty in controlling her gratitude at this -unexpected offer. - -"I'll test her capabilities now. Come, Miss Annie, into the parlor, -and give me a piece offhand." - -With many blushes she obeyed, and, seating herself at the piano, -played from memory an accompaniment to a simple ballad, which she -sang with so much sweetness that the physician was delighted. - -"Teach my girls to play and sing like that," he exclaimed, "and your -fortune is made. Teach them another accomplishment, too,—to play -when they are asked, without excuses, as you did. I more than half -expected you would say, 'I'm all out of practice, Doctor'; or, -'I'm far from strong.' Teach them all that, and you'll win the -gratitude of one father." - -Before Marion was able to drive out herself, she insisted that Annie -should spend several hours every day in the open air. Indeed, she -contrived so many errands which it was imperative must be attended -to immediately that the young girl could not refuse. - -She early learned that Mary Falkner came to the city soon after the -place in the Home for the Sick had been secured for her, that -Dr. Moore had seen her safely in the bed in her ward, and had -afterward had a consultation visit on her own case with Dr. Ross. - -She seemed to have forgotten all about her new protégés, -Mrs. Douglass and Mrs. Cheriton; but one day, on looking over the -cards left during her sickness, she found one which brought the -crimson tide back to her pale cheeks. - -It was a card with the name in print,—Harold Angus; and underneath, -in a fine hand, was written Juliette Cheriton, with the street and -number of her boarding-place. - -"Oh, how much I have to do!" Marion said. "I forgot this lady -entirely." - -Annie wondered what caused the pained voice and firmly set lips of -her friend, but she only said soothingly,— - -"Don't worry, dear. Tell me if there is any thing I can do to help -you." - -Marion put her hand wearily to her head, and in answer to Annie's -earnest remonstrance, pleading that she would think of nothing about -business now, she only asked,—"How soon will the doctor be here?" - -"Not for some hours yet. You will have time for a good nap." - -"Please give me my pen and paper: I must write a few words, then I -will try to rest; and, Annie dear, will you leave me alone a few -minutes?" - -The table was drawn nearer, materials for writing placed within -reach, and Annie, after a wistful glance at her friend, left the -chamber. If she could have looked back and seen the weary, tired, -pained expression which came over her friend's face as she seized the -pen, she might have doubted whether she was acting wisely to leave -her. - -The note was quickly written, indeed the words were dashed off with a -fierce energy, as though she doubted her ability to finish, unless at -once. It read thus:— - -Mr. Harold Angus:— - -Life is uncertain. I hope to live to restore to you a packet from one -whom I strongly suspect was dear to you. To find this package drove -me home from Grantbury, where I first heard that which connected you -in my thoughts with a young girl called Stella. I am not aware of its -contents, and can only say now that Stella died of consumption at the -Home for the Sick, loving and forgiving and blessing all those who -had been dear to her. - -MARION HOWARD. - -Having sealed this, and written the address, she added this -direction: "If I should die, please deliver this at once;" then, -enclosing the whole in a blank envelope, she touched her hand-bell -and requested Annie to place it in her desk. - -"I must rest my head now," she said; "but first, I want you to -promise me that, in case anything should happen to me, you will -forward any letters you may find in my desk. Don't look so -frightened, dear. I shall try to get well, for I have a great deal -to do, and life is so pleasant; but there are duties which I dared -not defer." - -At this moment James knocked at the door, and passed in a letter just -delivered by the postman. - -"It is Annie Asbury's handwriting," explained Marion, in a glad -voice. "It will soothe me to sleep, perhaps. Annie is a dear child." - -The letter read thus:— - -DEAR MARION,— - -Imagine me sitting by the east window, where I can -look out on the great elm-tree, and hear the robin-redbreasts as they -are calling their mates to join them in a morning song. I wish you -could see the grass. It looks greener than green, now that the sun -is touching it. I guess somebody else is feasting his eyes on the -emerald greensward (that's quoted), for I hear a curtain rolled up -and window-sash raised, so I am going to quit this highfalutin style, -and let my pen run on as it will; but, before I forget it, I must -tell you that ever since Mr. Angus ran up to town the day he called -to inquire for you there has been a change in him. Before that he had -one of his worst attacks of depression, or dyspepsia, as Aunt -Thankful calls them; but now he seems to have made up his mind not -to give way. I don't mean that he is cheerful, and I don't know as -I can explain what I do mean. You must see him, before you will -understand. Last night, after prayers, ma must have noticed something -different in him, for she went to him and held out her hand in that -kind way of hers. - -"I thank you for your prayer," she said: "it has done me good." - -All the answer he made was to repeat these words,— - -"God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." - -As he stood with his eyes fixed full on hers, I saw a new light -in them, as though he had said to himself, "I'm going to take courage -and go ahead." - -If he had seen you, and you had talked to him as you did to pa and ma -after dear Helen died, I should have expected to see just such a -look. - -I suppose you know, dear, that those foreign people went away the -week after you did. Ma went with Mr. Angus and brought Eugene here. -He is so beautiful he almost took my breath away; but I am sorry -to say he is so far from good in Ethel's meaning of the word that she -considers it necessary to pray for him very often. Not a soul would -he obey but Mr. Angus. I laughed so much I had to go out of the room: -there was that boy with eyes flashing, defying everybody to make him -stop teasing the cat, and holding her up by the tail; and there was -Ethel perfectly dumb with astonishment, eyes wide open, pale cheeks, -and that little quiver of her lips she has when grieved. Mr. Angus -took in the situation at once and said,— - -"Come to me, Eugene." - -The boy did not stir. - -If I were an artist I would try to sketch Mr. Angus's eyes, as he -fixed them on the defiant little fellow. There was power in them. -I think Ethel would be frightened into fits if he looked at her in -that way. Eugene endured it a minute and then ran, throwing his arms -around the neck of the conqueror, who looked lovingly enough then. -I only waited to see whether Ethel would be jealous; but the precious -child went up and held up her sweet lips to kiss Eugene and show him -she forgave him; then I ran to my room and had a hearty laugh all to -myself. - -Mr. Angus told ma that Eugene was a Spanish Creole, and that it is -natural for him to be hot-blooded. - -Ma said you wanted me to write a whole letter about Ethel,—all her -funny sayings and doings. I'm sorry now I didn't begin with these, -for I fear my letter will be too long. - -First, she is a darling. Yesterday she came running in from the -garden, her hair all in a friz about her forehead, her cheeks of a -brilliant color. - -"Oh, my!" she cried, throwing off her hat. "I'm all in a -sweatperation." - -"A what?" repeated Gardner, trying not to laugh. - -"A sweatperation. Isn't that right?" she asked quickly, as he burst -out laughing. - -"It's perspiration, dear," I explained. She was a little mortified. - -She has begun to learn the Commandments, and applies them to herself -and her dolls on all occasions. - -Do you remember that habit she used to have of twirling a piece of -her dress or apron when she was talking? She made a clean dress look -so mussed, ma told her she mustn't do it. - -A few days ago I heard her talking to her favorite doll, Frances. - -"You have been a very naughty girl: you have broken the Commandments. -Don't deny it, Frances. I saw you do it." - -"What has poor Frances done?" I asked. - -"Mussed her nice dress all up, so she can't go to the party." - -"It wasn't pretty for her to do it; but I don't think it was breaking -the Commandments, dear." - -"Why, yes, it is, Annie, because I forbid her to do it." - -"Oh! it comes under obedience, then." - -"Yes, she is very naughty." - -Two weeks ago Mr. Angus asked ma to let Ethel and I go on the lake -with him. Ma is afraid of the water, you know, and so she asked, -anxiously,— - -"Are you used to rowing?" - -He seemed very much amused as he said, "Yes, Mrs. Asbury." - -Pa laughed as he explained, "Our pastor is a regular sailor, ma: -I'll trust him." - -When we were getting into the boat I was a little afraid myself, -it tipped so; and there stood dear little Ethel shaking from head -to foot. - -"Will it tip over?" she asked, as Mr. Angus lifted her carefully in. - -"No, dear. I think God will take care of us." He looked very lovingly -at her as he put her down on the cross seat in the centre, while I -sat at one end and he at the other. There was not a sign of fear -after that. She sat up straight, looking at him, but not saying a -word till he asked,— - -"Do you like it, Ethel?" - -"Yes, sir." - -The next day she was in his room, and he saw her take her five -dollies out of the locker and make them all kneel down by her doll's -bedstead. She was just going to kneel too, when he asked,— - -"What are you doing, Ethel?" - -She came right up to him and said, "Ma is going to take me to -New York when my Marion is well enough, and I'm going to ask God -to make the boat go softly." - -"That's right," he told her; and then he heard her whisper a little -prayer. - -He told ma that she seemed perfectly sure after this that the boat -would go softly, as she said. He often says, "She is a blessed -child." He never praises her, as so many do; but I know he thinks her -beautiful, from the way he spoke one day when a lady was comparing -her with another child. He said, "There can be no comparison. -For purity and sweetness of expression, she is beyond any child -I ever saw." - -I must tell you one thing more about our pet, and then I think you -will credit me with four letters of common length. - -You know we have always wondered that Ethel should remember so much -about her nurse Bridget, who died a year ago. She always seemed -troubled about her, and used to look up and say, "Can't you speak -to me out of heaven? Can't you just whisper a little?" - -A few days ago she went into the kitchen and sat down very soberly. -"It's very bad," she began, "to have naughty legs go into heaven. -Naughty legs had better be cut off than to try to get into heaven." -Cook told ma, and we all thought she had heard somebody read about; -"If thy right hand offend thee," etc.; but she came to ma the same -day, sat down, and began to sigh. - -She looked anxiously in ma's face as she said,— - -"I suppose Bridget has told God by this time that I kicked her." - -Ma says she was very much surprised, as she never knew Ethel to kick -any one; but she answered calmly,— - -"If Bridget told God, she told him also that you didn't mean to." - -"But I did mean to." She held her finger up to emphasize it, and -repeated, "I did mean to." - -"Well, then, dear, she told him that you were sorry." - -"Yes," sighing. "I'm sorry now. I wasn't sorry then, when she went -away." - -"I'll tell you, darling, what you can do,"—ma saw she was really -troubled and conscience-stricken,—"you can kneel down and tell God -yourself that you are sorry. He will forgive you." - -She knelt for some time by her little chair, whispering her prayer in -God's ear. Since that she has never mentioned Bridget's name. -She must have suffered all that time from the pricks of her tender -conscience. I'm sure I saw tears in Mr. Angus's eyes when ma told him -about it. - -Good-by, dear Marion. The breakfast-bell is ringing, and I'm sure -Gardner is doing it, for it is done with a will. He's hungry, -I suppose. From - -COUSIN ANNIE. - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -THE LOST PACKAGE. - -"DON'T wake her; I'll call again." - -"I think, Doctor, she wished to see you specially." - -"Yes, I do," called out Marion, awaking from a refreshing nap, -with Annie's letter still in her hand. "Doctor, I'm almost well." - -"Decidedly. Are you dismissing me?" - -"No, indeed; but I want to ask you something." - -She waited a moment, as though uncertain how to state her business. -"Doctor, I have something on my mind that troubles me. I feel sure -I should be well at once if it were decided." - -"Is it a case of blasted affections, or—" - -"Don't joke, Doctor: it's a serious affair. It's a breach of trust -on my part, and I can't rest until I have done all in my power -to remedy the injury." - -"Why do you tell me this?" he asked, evidently startled. "Go to -your lawyer, or—perhaps your clergymen would do better." - -"Because you were my father's friend, and you are my friend. I only -tell you now to get your consent to my doing what my conscience tells -me is my duty." - -"I can't give advice on such general information. I must know -particulars." - -"I will state a case. Suppose a very sick and dying girl confided -to your care a letter or letters containing her last words to a dear -friend, name unknown. Suppose that years passed and you never thought -of the trust, and at last, when you had reason to suspect you had -found the right person, the letters were lost. Suppose that this -person was a dreadful sufferer for want of the words which are -probably in those lost letters. What would you do, Dr. Ross?" - -"I am very sorry for you, my dear child, if you are in such trouble -as that. Can't you inform the person of the contents of the letters?" - -"If I only knew what the contents are, and that he is the right one -to receive them. Years had passed since she had heard from her -friend, and she often said it would be a relief to know that he had -repented and died. I inferred that he had done her some great wrong, -and she had told him she never would forgive him. Before she died she -did forgive him with all her heart, and with almost her last breath -left him her love and her blessing." - -"Tell the person that." - -"How can I be sure he is the one, without the packet? It is enclosed -in a business envelope, directed to me. It is very aggravating that -I cannot recollect her name—but that I could find at the Home for -the Sick. I knew her as Stella." - -"Have you made a thorough search?" - -"Oh, no! I have not thought of it for years. Just before I was taken -sick, something occurred of a confidential nature, which led to a -suspicion that he is the one I ought to give it to. I began to -search at once for it among papers I sent to the country when I left -Uncle Williamson's. I have not looked for it here. I cannot -recollect seeing it for years. Now I want you to consent that I go -to work in earnest. If I don't find it," sighing heavily, "what shall -I do?" - -"Let me think a minute." He rose and paced the floor, while she gazed -at his knitted brows, clenching her hands in impatience for him -to speak. - -He came back to his seat, and counted her pulse. - -"Well," he said, with a grave smile, as he glanced into her eager, -wistful face, "if you feel pretty sure you have a clew to the right -individual, ask him some leading questions. Has he ever heard of such -a lady, naming her? If he is ignorant, or pretends to be, you are -relieved from that responsibility. If he should prove to have known -her, you can state the circumstance: of her sickness and death, and -the messages she left for a dear friend." - -"But, Doctor—" - -"Yes, I know; and I am trying to choose between two evils. You are -recovering from a dangerous illness, and are not fit for any -excitement. On the other hand, it is possible that the worry of mind, -while waiting for strength, will do you equal harm; so I will make a -compromise. Your pulse is pretty steady. You may have as many papers -as you please brought here, where Miss Annie can help you search, -if you will promise to stop at once if you feel tired, take one of -those sweet-tasting pills, and go to bed." - -"Thank you, Doctor. I promise. Will you please ring the bell?" - -He laughed as he complied. Then saying, "I wish you great success," -left the room. - -In ten minutes Marion was dressed and seated in an old-fashioned -armchair, while within her reach was a drawer of papers, pamphlets, -etc., etc. Annie Leman sat on a cricket near by, while James was -bringing drawers and boxes from the storeroom. - -Having explained what she wanted to find, the work proceeded -in silence, occasional sighs from Marion being the only interruption. -In less than two hours every paper had been handled and thrown back. - -"Are you sure, James, that you have brought all?" The tone was sharp -and decided. - -"Yes, miss. Mrs. Mitchell came to the attic and told me which -to take, and she says there are no more in the house." - -"Take them all away, again." - -She sank back and covered her face with her hands, but starting -presently, she said,— - -"I am not keeping my promise to the doctor, Annie. I must take one -of those horrid pills, and go to bed. I want to sleep and forget -everything." - -The next day was so pleasant that Mrs. Mitchell proposed she should -take a drive; but Marion had no heart for anything, unless, indeed, -"I could go to the Home for the Sick and see Mary Falkner,—and I -don't believe the doctor would let me do that. I could ask Dr. B— to -examine the record too. If Stella's name was Angus, I—" she stopped -suddenly on hearing the doctor's step. - -He came in while they were discussing the subject, and ended it -by saying she was to go and drive around the park for an hour. - -He contrived to send every one from the room, and then asked,— - -"What success?" - -"None at all. I have no hope, now, and have made up my mind to be -as patient as I can till I am well enough to see the one to whom -I referred, and tell him what I know. I think he will forgive me, -but I can never forgive myself." - -After this, she went out every pleasant day for a week, and gained -strength rapidly, notwithstanding her abiding regret in regard to the -lost packet. Then came a few days of wet weather, when she was -obliged to keep in-doors. She sent for her pupils, gave them lessons, -and heard them sing and play. She sent for new music for Annie, and -tried to interest herself in it. She purchased flowers and sent them -to Mrs. Douglass, who, under the care of an experienced physician, -was gaining strength daily. The first pleasant day she resolved -to go to Grantbury, taking James with her. Annie Leman had returned -to her aunt, and was giving lessons to her first pupils. - -One morning she stood watching the cloud, which seemed to be blowing -over, and said to herself, "To-morrow, if it clears up, I shall be -off. What a relief it will be to tell him, and be forgiven for my -neglect of so sacred a trust!" - -She heard the bell ring, and then James's voice asking whether she -would see Mr. Belknap. - -"Certainly; ask him up at once." She advanced eagerly to the door -to meet her father's aged friend, and her own legal adviser. - -Marion's manner was always charming in its heartiness, but towards -her aged friends there was almost a filial warmth, which made them -feel that they were special favorites. She seated the white-haired -old man in her most comfortable chair, putting an ottoman near him, -where she could sit and look in his face. - -"You have been near death, I hear," he said tenderly. - -"Yes, sir; but all that time was lost to me. I was not conscious -of danger." - -"God has been good to you, my child. He has raised you up to new -duties. You must be thankful for all His mercies." - -"I must, indeed. I want to be better for this sickness, more helpful -of others not so favored as I am, more humble and charitable." - -"That's right, dear child. Ask for grace to improve each day's joys -and sorrows, and you will get it." - -He then talked to Marion of business, saying, "There are some papers -which it will be necessary for you to sign." - -He had made a long call, when the doctor came in, and, seeing -Mr. Belknap, telegraphed to Marion to speak to him in the hall. -When there he only said,— - -"Tell your story to him: he's a good friend to you." - -And she did tell him, relating the death scene in the hospital more -in detail than she had done before. She told him also that she had -accidentally met a person who was burdened with a heavy grief, whose -name, as nearly as she could recollect, was the same. She had always -called her friend by her first name, and the belief grew stronger and -stronger in her mind that he was the one to whom her dying friend -referred. An expression on the gentleman's face had first startled -her and carried her back in mind to her friend, and the recollection -of the letters left in her care. - -He listened attentively, not saying a word till she had finished the -recital. - -"You say she died in the Home, in the year 18—." - -"Yes, sir." - -"And that he also was in the same Home for months,—that he told the -chaplain his story, as she had told hers, probably." - -"Yes, sir; but I didn't think"—she stopped abruptly, staring in his -face, and then exclaimed, "Oh, if I could find that packet of -letters! I begin to think he cannot be the one after all. Perhaps her -friend has long been dead." - -"Where did you keep the packet?" - -"I must have put it where I considered it safe at the time; but her -story was so vague,—and she never mentioned the relation in which -this person stood to her. I fancied he might have been her lover. -I was young, and thought I was to keep it till called for. I remember -thinking as she was a foreigner it was not likely it would ever be -delivered to any one. When I left Uncle Williamson's, I kept some -papers here and sent the rest to Grantbury." - -"Except the green box of deeds, etc., etc., we keep in our safe." - -Marion started to her feet, exclaiming, "It is there! It is there! -Let us go and get it." - -She rang the bell, told James to have the carriage round as quickly -as possible, hurried on her hat and sacque, looking so eager and -hopeful that her old friend said, cautiously,— - -"Don't be too sure, my child." - -She turned to him, her whole face dimpled with smiles. - -"I'm almost as sure," she said, "as though I had it in my hand." - -In a few minutes she stood at the lawyer's table, while a clerk was -sent for the green box. One minute more, papers tied with red tape, -worth thousands of dollars, and nicely filed receipts were scattered -over the table. Near the bottom lay the missing packet, which, with a -scream of joy,—"That's it,"—she caught and held to her breast. - -"I can't sign anything to-day," she answered, as the younger partner -requested her to wait a few minutes. "If you will send the papers -round, I'll do it: I'm too excited now." - -She ran down the stairs, whispering over and over,— - -"God has been very good to me"; then to the coachman,— - -[Illustration: SHE FELL ON HER KNEES. Page 169.] - -"Home as quickly as possible." - -Once in her own chamber, she locked the door and, not waiting to -remove her hat, tore off the envelope; and there, written in a feeble -hand, was the address,—"Harold Angus, formerly of Doncaster, -Yorkshire, England." - -She fell on her knees, and thanked God. A strange calm stole over -her, as she began to realize that it was her privilege to lift the -heavy burden from one whom she so greatly respected, so admired for -his many noble qualities. - -She summoned James, and sent him off to the telegraph office with -this message:— - -REV. HAROLD ANGUS, Grantbury, Conn. - -Please take the afternoon train, 2:50, for this city. A carriage -will meet you at the station. - -MARION HOWARD. - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -A SAD STORY. - -To describe the scene which followed, I will quote from the words of -an eminent author. - -"Have you ever watched the sun rise upon a landscape that has been, -but a few moments before, a world of gray and black shadows? Have you -seen the rosy flush of dawn creeping in lines of tender light across -the hills, and shining down into the valleys?" If you have seen this -beauteous birth of day, and felt its full significance of life -renewed, then your imagination can fancy the dawn of the new and -perfect joy with which the young pastor received the intelligence -contained in the letters. - -"I have come at your call," he had said, as he entered her parlor, -where she met him with outstretched hands. Looking full into his face -she saw there the change of which Annie had written. His eyes shone -with a quiet courage, more touching than the wildest despair. It was -as though he had said, "My Father has sent me a cross. I will bear it -manfully, looking to Him for strength." - -Marion had been for hours planning how she would break the news -to the pastor. All was forgotten now. Her voice rang with joy, as she -said,— - -"I have news for you,—good news. I knew your Stella. She gave me -this for you. Only this morning I first knew the address." - -She put the precious parcel in his hands, adding, "When you have read -it, I will come back and tell you of her happy death. Please touch -the bell when you are ready." - -It was more than an hour before the signal was given. When she -re-entered the parlor his face bore the marks of deep emotion; -but the new light I have described at the beginning of my chapter -was shining from it. - -"Have you read this?" he asked, leading her to a seat, and taking one -beside her,—"No, I do not mean that,—did she tell you?" - -"When I first found her, she talked of one who had blighted her life. -She never named you. I had no idea she alluded to a brother. -After she went to the Home she became a humble Christian, loving and -tender to every one." - -He was struggling hard to control his emotion, but presently said: -"How wonderful that, when you were tending her and ministering to her -wants like a sister, I was within a hundred feet of her, crying and -praying God so to soften her heart that she might accept His -forgiving love! How wonderful that my Father, in His wisdom, -has withheld this," holding up the letters, "till by His grace -He enabled me to say from the heart, 'Thy will be done'!" - -"And gave me the privilege of restoring to you the last token of her -affection." - -As she spoke, Marion's tears flowed fast. "Will you thank Him -for me?" - -As they knelt, he poured from a full heart words of praise and -thanksgiving. He consecrated his life and all its powers anew to the -service of the Saviour. He asked that through these events, -so mysterious, bringing to him, after the lapse of so many years, -the knowledge of his sister's acceptance of Christ as her Saviour, -they might both be more trustful, resting all their cares upon Him -who had done all things well. - -Again and again Mr. Angus asked for reminiscences of his sister. -Again and again Marion related in detail the account of their first -meeting,—Stella's despair when first told she could not live, -her removal to the blessed Home, the sermon on forgiveness from the -chaplain, the arrow of the Spirit which sent it home to her heart, -the sweet and abiding peace which followed when she gave up her -burden of sin and sorrow to Christ. - -"Where is her grave?" he asked, concealing his face. - -"In Greenwood. I will take you there in the morning, and you will -want to see Dr. B- at the Home." - -"In what words can I thank you, Miss Howard? You not only befriended -a poor orphan while living, but provided a place for her in that -lovely home for the dead." - -"It was a precious privilege, Mr. Angus." - -Seizing her hand for a moment, he dropped it suddenly and walked away -to the window. - -"Tea is served," announced James, opening the door. - -"One word, Miss Howard. Will you listen to my story? I want you to -read my sister's letters. If you will listen to me first, you will -then understand the cause she had to consider me her enemy." - -"I should consider it a sacred privilege." - -"My good Hepsey, Miss Prime, Mr. Angus," she added, advancing to the -table, where Hepsey sat. "Mr. Angus is my Grantbury pastor, Ethel's -friend," she explained, as they took their seats. - -After grace had been said, the conversation turned naturally to the -family of Mr. Asbury, and especially to Ethel. - -After a while Mr. Angus asked,— - -"Have you heard from Mrs. Douglass of late?" - -"Yes, she has revived in a wonderful manner. I intend to visit her as -soon as my doctor removes the embargo he has placed on me. He has the -lowest opinion of my prudence, and imagines me incapable of caution." - -"And he is right," insisted Hepsey, laughing. "Once you begin your -visits, there is no knowing when they will end, until you are brought -up again by some other contagious disease." - -"I am engaged this evening, James, if any one calls," remarked -Marion, as they rose from the table and returned to the parlor. -"Now, Mr. Angus I want to introduce you to my dear friends, Mr. and -Mrs. Mitchell, who have kindly made a home for me." - -The conversation for a few moments was of a general character, and -then Mrs. Mitchell said,— - -"We should be happy to entertain you to-night, Mr. Angus. James will -show you to your room, when you wish to retire. I will not say -good-by, as I shall see you at the breakfast-table." - -It was evidently a relief that the restraint of others' presence was -removed. The pastor wanted time to realize his new situation,—freed -from the harrowing reminiscences which had so long oppressed him,— -and especially he wanted to narrate to the dear friend who had done -so much for him and his sister the actual experiences she now only -surmised. He sat quietly following with his eyes her movements as she -placed a screen on the gas-shade, moved a vase of flowers to the -table, folded a newspaper, and performed those little acts of womanly -refinement which make the delight and comfort of a home. - -"May I tell you now," he said, softly, as she seated herself opposite -him; "and will you be charitable toward the faults of a wayward -youth, as you have been to the failings of the man?" - -Her bright smile encouraged him, and he dashed into his story -at once. - -"I was born in Doncaster, Yorkshire, twenty-nine years ago. -Two years later I had a sister Stella. When I was ten and Stella -eight, my mother died, leaving behind her an infant boy, whom father -named Wilson, for his maternal grandfather. A sister of my father -came to keep house, and care for the baby. I might have helped her, -but I fear I made her hard task harder. Stella was naturally wilful, -strong in her likes and dislikes, capable of the warmest affections. -She took little Will, as we always called him, to her heart, and made -an idol of him. - -"Father never seemed the same after mother's death. I can remember -him sitting, his arms folded, lost in his own thoughts and memories -of the past. - -"I grew up with little restraint. To do myself justice, I pitied -father so much that I often went away and wept. I loved Will too; -but Stella was jealous if I separated him from her, and I gradually -let him alone, except as I wanted to tease her. - -"Occasionally, when I was too abusive, she appealed to father; -otherwise she took Will and shut herself in a room with him, where I -could not get at her. - -"In my thirteenth year father woke to the face that I needed -a master. He sent me to a military school, and promised that if I -would do my best he would purchase a commission for me in the army. -I did fairly well in my studies, and went home in my uniform, -carrying a prize for good conduct. As I recall my actions at that -time, I must have been a great nuisance. Stella told me frankly that -she wished I would go back to school and never return. Aunt Sarah was -almost beside herself, settling disputes between us. Poor little Will -used to scream and run away when I went near him, at which I did not -wonder, for he was taught to consider me an enemy. - -"Father was more feeble than ever, and passed much of his time in his -chamber. I might have been a comfort to him, but I was not. - -"It was nearly three years before I was allowed to go home again. -Aunt Sarah told me that Stella persuaded father to keep me away. -I had grown in that time from a boy to a man. My military drill had -made me strong and vigorous. I was fond of athletic games, and my -companions thought I excelled in them. I could hunt and row all day -long without fatigue, and was never so happy as when excited by -competition in study or in athletic exercise. - -"But there were hours when I longed for home, for a mother's -unexacting affection. I accompanied my classmates to their homes and -witnessed the mother's pride in her boy, her lavish affection poured -out on him, notwithstanding his faults. I realized that I should be -better with the incentive of a mother's approbation to spur me on. - -"I was fond of children too, and in my long, enforced absence, I came -to idealize my little brother. I planned how I would win his -confidence, and help him to a happier life than I had had. - -"I was summoned home to father's death-bed. Dear father! When it was -too late, he realized that he had allowed his grief to swallow up -every other feeling. He—asked my forgiveness,—dear father!" - -His choking voice interrupted the story for a few moments, and -Marion's moistened eye; showed that her interest was intense. -After pause, he went on,— - -"Father had settled his worldly affairs before my return. -His property was not large. It was equally divided between my sister, -my brother and myself. Part of mine was to be spent in the purchase -of a soldier's commission. He lived two days after I reached home. -I am glad to remember that he forgave me all my waywardness and -folly, commending me at the last to the care of my mother's God. - -"This affliction drew Stella and myself together and for a few weeks -we lived more peaceably than we ever had done; but she was still -jealous of any interference with Will, so that my dreams of winning -his love ended suddenly. - -"I had my gun at home, and Will used to beg Stella to let him go -with me. He was continually saying that he would be a soldier when he -was a man. He used to look after me as I went out with my gun over my -shoulder. I gratified him a few times firing at a mark, and then -I allowed him from the window to see me load my gun. - -"One morning,—oh, how vividly every circumstance comes back to my -mind! even the fragrance of the white rose-bushes, and the pretty -hedge all in bloom,—I was unusually aggravated by poor Stella's -unreasoning jealousy, and I answered with some hard words. -I reproached her with having made my life miserable. I told her -I came home resolved to be loving and patient. I reminded her that -we were orphans, and ought to love each other; and then, as she -called me some undeserved names, I retorted angrily that I was the -eldest, the proper guardian of the family, and that I would use -my authority to take Will from her to prevent his being ruined. - -"Will stood by me, and listened to all the talk. Then, as I angrily -left the house, he ran after me and had to be carried back by force. -I was frightened at the violence of his temper, and, to soothe him, -said,— - -"'If you'll go back, you may play soldier with my gun.' I had fired -it off in the early morning, and left it standing behind the door. - -"I soon repented of my anger, and was ready as usual to blame myself. -I will be more patient, I said, over and over again. I had always -trusted in my own strength, and of course had failed. I turned back -and entered the house. Will was alone. Stella, not expecting me, -had left him by himself, for a punishment. He looked guiltily in my -face, and I said, 'Come, let's make up and be friends. I'll teach you -to be a soldier.' - -"I took the gun and playfully aimed it at him, knowing it was not -loaded. Alas! alas! There was a loud report, and Will, my poor little -Will, fell to the floor. - -"My aunt and Stella rushed to the room and found me with the gun in -my hand, dumb and immovable with horror. With a shriek I shall never -forget, Stella caught Will in her arms; but when I approached she -waved me off, calling me a murderer, and shouting again and again, -'I will never forgive you,—never! Never!'" - -"Aunt Sarah helped move Will to a bed, sent for the doctor, and then, -beckoning me into another room, shut the door, and said,— - -"Harold, tell me truly. How did it happen?'" - -"Somebody loaded the gun after I went out. I thought it was empty. -I wish it had killed me, instead of my brother.' Six feet tall as -I was, I laid my head on the table and sobbed like a child. - -"'You must get away from here,' Aunt Sarah said, putting her hand -softly on my head,—the first caress I had had for years. 'Stella is -wild with anger. Will is dyin and she will say you murdered him.'" - -"'Where shall I go?' I cried. 'I'm an outcast, like Cain; and yet the -moment it happened loved my brother better than I ever did in my -life.'" - -"I was delirious with grief and remorse. I went from the house, and -passed the night on mother's grave. I can recall little after that -time, till found myself on board a vessel bound for the United -States. Stella's letter will tell you what happened in the interim. -What comfort the knowledge of those weeks would have been to me all -these years, you can scarcely imagine. Will died of the wound -inflicted by my hand, but not until he had confessed that he had -loaded the gun while left alone. He called for me continually but -poor Stella was, as she expresses it, possessed of a devil, and would -not send for me. She continually denounced me as a murderer, and Aunt -Sarah had to explain again and again how it had happened. - -"I resolved then and there to leave the money father left me for her -use. I was reckless, and did not desire to live. - -"As you will read in her letter, Stella says that she saw me at the -funeral, and almost repented when she perceived how changed I was. -I have not the slightest recollection of being there. - -"I landed in Charleston, S. C., and made my way to Philadelphia, -where I found the means of living while I pursued my studies. I gave -up military life, and thought I should be content if I could fit -myself for an editor of a paper. I was in an editor's office in -New York, when I was seized with fever and carried to the Home for -the Sick. I came away with new aims, and only longed to benefit some -poor afflicted ones as I had been benefited there. You know the rest. -I studied three years at the seminary, working among the poor -meanwhile, and had just begun to preach when I was requested -to supply the pulpit for a pastor who had been my most faithful -adviser. I was called to Grantbury, and accepted the call. How nearly -I retracted my acceptance, weighed down with a sense of my unfitness -for the work, how I besought God with strong crying and tears to -appear for me and let me know His will, no on but He knows. - -"There are poor Stella's letters. I have blamed her, but not half so -much as she blames herself." - -Marion covered her face with her handkerchief. The story was sad -indeed. - -"Perhaps I have done wrong to tell you all this," he urged, rising -and walking the room. "You are the only confident I ever had." - -"No, no, not wrong. I thank you. If deal Stella could only have lived -to tell you herself how fully she forgave you, how earnestly she -longed for your forgiveness!" - -"At first," added Mr. Angus, "I used to pity myself; but when I had -received forgiveness of my heavenly Father, my pity was for her. -I remembered that the unforgiving cannot receive forgiveness of God. -I felt that my life was rendered desolate, but I was willing -to receive that as a chastisement. My prayer was, 'Lord, let her -forgive that she may be forgiven.' The idea of her suffering from -poverty never occurred to me. Of late, when I have witnessed the -happiness of home life,—fathers and mothers with their children -growing up around them,—I have thought that, had my life been -different, I might have been blessed with a paradise of a home." - -"All the sadness is over now," murmured Marion, softly. - -"Do you think a man with such a past as mine has a right to ask any -one to share his future?" - -What Marion might have answered had there not been a knock at the -door, I cannot tell. James entered, and carried to his mistress -a note on a salver. - -"I told you I could see no one to-night." - -"Yes, miss, but the messenger persists. He's from the Home for the -Sick." - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -STELLA'S CONFESSION. - -MRS. ASBURY was sitting at work in her room when she heard the outer -door open and a quick step on the stairs. - -"Who can that be?" she asked, somewhat surprised. - -"No one but Mr. Angus has a key, ma." - -"He never steps like that, Annie. Open the door and see." - -Before she could do so, the step came down again and Mr. Angus came -into the sitting-room holding out his hand as he greeted them. - -Both mother and daughter started up to meet him, and Ethel, hearing -his voice, came running in, and stood for a moment gazing in wonder. -In her childish way she gave expression to their thoughts. - -"It's a new Mr. Angus." - -"Yes, it is, darling," he said, catching her in his arms. "That -other Mr. Angus has gone away, and I hope never to see him any more." - -Turning to Mrs. Asbury, he said, "God has been very good to me, and -sent me the best of news from an absent friend. I have long mourned -her as dead; now I learn that she died in faith, trusting in the -blood of Christ to wash away all her sins." - -"I am truly glad for you," was her earnest reply. - -"The intelligence I have received renders it necessary for me to go -to England for a short time. I want to ask your husband's advice -concerning arrangements for my pulpit during my absence." - -"How long shall you be away?" - -"Probably three months." - -"You have six weeks' vacation. Why not include those, and get a -supply for the rest?" - -"Thank you for the suggestion. It is my wish to leave as soon as -possible." - -This was all the explanation he gave as to the change in his conduct, -a change recognized by every one in the parish. His voice, his step, -his manner, were cheerful even to buoyancy. His smile was more -frequent, and had lost forever the sadness which formerly often -accompanied it. - -The very boys in the street watched and wondered. Formerly, when he -passed the play-ground, he gazed at them, but in so serious a manner -that they felt almost guilty; now it was very different. He stood one -day at the entrance to a large field, given up to the use of the boys -for base-ball, watching the game with great interest. - -"No, that is not the way," he shouted at last, leaping at one bound -over the high fence. "This was the way when I was a boy." He gave -the ball a kick, which sent it to the farther corner of the field, -and stood laughing at the loud cheers which rent the air, then -saying,— - -"Play fair, boys; cheating don't pay," he gave another leap and -passed on, taking off his hat and waving it high in the air as they -cheered again. - -A supply for the pulpit was readily obtained from a theological -school, and passage engaged in a Cunarder; but, as the reader may not -understand the necessity which called him to leave Grantbury, I will -take the liberty to insert here extracts from the letters in the -recovered package. - -These were now in the hands of Marion, and he was to receive them -when he went to New York to take the steamer. It is unnecessary to -say that the young lady, having listened to the story of the brother, -devoted her first leisure to reading the confession of the sister. - -The very first lines deeply moved her, recalling, as she did, Stella -bolstered up in her bed at the Home as she wrote, her curtain drawn -closely to shut out the sight of her companions. - -The letter began:— - -If I have a brother, and these words ever meet his eyes, let him read -them as coming from one who has deeply sinned against him, but who -has also deeply repented. - -Judge her as charitably as you can, my brother, even as I trust God -will judge me; and remember that my prayers have gone up to God -continually for you, and my loving thoughts reach far away across the -waters, where, if still among the living, I suppose you are now. - -"How strange!" reflected Marion, "that when she wrote that her -brother was in an adjoining ward, and that one minute's walk would -have taken him to her side." - -Later.—I had to lay aside my pen and rest, and now my hands tremble -with weakness; but justice to one who has never received justice at -my hands urges me to make my confession. Harold, I cannot remember -the time when I did not feel jealous of you. As a child, you were -loving in nature, winning your way without effort to every heart. -You were mother's pet and pride. Father could scarcely see a fault -in his big, brave, and beautiful boy. When Aunt Sarah came, all that -I could say to prejudice her against you had no effect. She loved and -trusted you. She said you would love me if I would let you. She said -few had so forgiving a nature. She tried to persuade me to be at -peace and allow Will, my idol, to love you. I will say that when we -used to walk into church, I was proud of you. All my companions -envied me and my brother. This made me hate you more than ever. -If you had been plain and unattractive, I think it would have been -different with me,—but perhaps not, for my heart was full of envy -and jealousy. Now you know the secret of all my conduct. I was -possessed with a devil and, instead of trying to cast him out, -I cherished him. - -Harold, before you reached home to see father die he begged me -to love you as I loved Will. He gave Will into your special care. -He wrote you a loving letter, telling you his plans and wishes -for your future, that he left the care of Will's education and his -little property to you. If he died, it was to be yours. If you died, -Will was to inherit what you left. How I hated him for this! I had -a legacy from Aunt Mary which, with my share, would be enough for me, -he said. How I hated him for writing this! The breath had scarcely -left his body before I tore the paper to pieces. Will you forgive -me, brother? - -Later.—I must hasten on, for my life is fast drawing to a close, -and I have that to tell you which will relieve you of a great sorrow, -—I mean in regard to the last dreadful scene at home. Tears stream -from my eyes as I remember your patience with me, your efforts to win -my sisterly love. Oh how one expression of yours has rung in my -memory! - -"Sister Stella, why won't you let me love you? I will try to please -you, and we might be so happy?" Oh, why! why! - -You asked Will to go to walk. He started, and I ran and forced him -back. To punish him, I shut him up in the room, forgetting that you -had placed your gun behind the door. In my insane terror I charged -you with murdering him, Harold. Before he died he confessed that he -had loaded it,—put in the very bullet that was to end his life. -Harold, can you forgive me when I say that I knew this when I saw you -at his funeral, and did not tell you? Yes, when I saw you so changed -that I scarcely recognized you, I kept his dying messages, which -would have relieved your sorrow. I charged you with being his -murderer, but no one believed me. Aunt Sarah did you justice. She -told every one you loved the boy, and that he loved you,—that it -was an accident. After Will confessed that he loaded the gun, -she repeated this to every one. You were pitied, and I, who so -idolized the boy, was looked on with suspicion. Even Aunt Sarah told -me that I had ruined Will by indulgence, or he would never have -touched the gun contrary to your orders. I hated her for saying it, -but I knew that what she said was true. - -Later.—I am already relieved by my confession, and, as I feel -stronger this morning, I will write while I can. I shall commit this -to the care of a dear friend, who first led me to hope for pardon -through Christ. I can never tell any one how much she has been to me. -Beautiful, accomplished, and rich, she devotes herself and all she -has to the divine work of winning others to her Saviour. -Dear brother, I wish you could meet such a friend. If you have never -sought Christ let a sister's dying words prevail. His love is more -precious than all the world beside. If I, with all my load of guilt -can receive forgiveness, no one need despair. I told you I would -never forgive you. One day I heard a sermon from the young chaplain -of the Home, where I was staying. He repeated the words of our -Saviour, "If ye forgive not men their trespasses," etc., and -explained the wretched, despairing condition of those who cherish -a spirit of unforgiveness. - -Every word applied to my case. The gracious spirit of God carried -home the truth to my heart, and helped me to accept his conditions -of mercy. The whole room seemed filled with light. Never had I -conceived such joy, such peace, as flowed in upon my soul. -From trying to invent excuses for my own base conduct, I saw myself -the vilest of the vile. I realize now that murder had been in my -heart,—murder of a brother. I love you now. I wonder at your -forbearance when I reproached you. How pityingly you used to gaze -on me! I seem to see your eyes now,—eyes like our mother's, -so sweet, so sad,—looking into mine as though you would say, -"Stella, I want to love you. Why can't we be at peace?" O Harold, -my brother, would that I could see you once more and ask your -forgiveness! Aunt Sarah often said that I had driven you from home -and friends. It is true. I grieve over it, and have asked God -to forgive me. I pray that we may meet in heaven: you will forgive me -there. - -Before I close, I must tell you that immediately after Will's death -I went home with Aunt Sarah, and remained till she died. In the bank -where father left your money, you will find my share and Will's. -I have never drawn one pound. I could not, as I had made it over -to you. My legacy has sufficed. I want you to accept mine (Will's is -yours by right) from a sister who has learned not only to love but to -admire you. I found letters from your teachers in the military school -to father. They wrote of you in the highest terms. Father used to -read them over and over. I did not see them till after his death. - -One favor I would like to ask. If you ever receive this, will you -repay the faithful friend I have mentioned the amount she has -expended for my lot in Greenwood,—she has promised to follow me -there,—and any other expense incurred for my sickness beyond the -$60 I leave in my purse? - -Later.—The end is drawing near. I am not afraid: Christian friends -are about me. My own loved Marion will be here presently, and will -not leave me till Jesus, my Saviour calls me home. I have an -assurance this morning that my prayers for you will be answered. -We shall meet father and mother and all our loved ones in heaven. -Farewell, dear Harold, farewell! - -Afternoon.—God has seen fit to keep me here a little longer. I have -not told you that I came to America two years ago,—after Aunt -Sarah's death. I was in a boarding house with an acquaintance from -home, and taught music when a sudden cold settled on my lungs. -Miss Howard heard me sing once at a party given by one of my pupils -and afterward called when she learned I was sick. She is a great -lover of music. She has been such a friend to me as I cannot -describe. This Home for the Sick has proved a paradise to many. -Thank God, who sent me here. Once more, brother, farewell! Meet me -in heaven. - -STELLA ANGUS. - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -THE CRIPPLED BOY. - -DURING Marion's call at the Home for the Sick in company with the -pastor, they examined the record of patients, etc., and related -to Dr. B— the singular circumstance of the brother and sister, -natives of another country, being there at the same time, each -longing to find the other, and remaining unknown. There were the -names and dates fully recorded:— - -"Men's Medical Ward, Harold Angus, New York, aged twenty-four. -Disease, typhoid fever. Entered March 7, 18—. Discharged cured -June 20, 18—. Address of friends, Mr. James Whitney, New York City." - -"Women's Medical Ward, Stella Angus, Doncaster, England, aged -twenty-two. Second admittance. Disease, consumption. Entered -May 2, 18—. Died June 4, 18—. Place of burial, Greenwood. Address of -friends, Miss Mary Angus, Leyden, England." - -"I recollect perfectly," remarked Dr. B—, "that Stella, as we called -her,—from Miss Howard introducing her by that name,—often spoke -to the chaplain and to the nurses of one whom she had injured, and -that she wished to atone for it. I never heard, Mr. Angus, that you -mentioned her name." - -"I never did. I supposed her to be in England. I can only believe -that God, for His own wise purpose, kept the knowledge of her -triumphant death from me till I could say, in regard to all His -dealings, 'Thy will be done.'" - -From the Home they drove at once to Greenwood. The lot was small and -inexpensive, but it had been well cared for, and the grave, covered -with myrtle, was green and beautiful. - -Marion led the way to the spot and then retired to a distance, -leaving the mourner alone with his sorrow. Not yet did she know how -deeply Stella had injured her brother, and so she could not -appreciate, as she did afterward, the abandonment of his grief as he -fell on the grave, saying,— - -"My sister! My sister! Is it thus we meet?" - -Still, as she walked away, with bent head and fast-falling tears, -she repeated to herself the familiar quotation,— - -"To err is human, to forgive, divine." - -At the head of the grave Marion had caused a simple stone to be -erected, with merely these words,— - -STELLA. - -ASLEEP IN JESUS. - -As they were turning to leave the sacred spot, he pointed to it, -and tried to utter the words,— - -"Thank you," but his voice choked. - -Now, he in whom she had taken so deep an interest, whose happiness -had for a time been so intimately interwoven with her own, had sailed -for England. He had made a hasty call, on his return from Grantbury, -and received from her the precious letters assuring him of his -sister's affection. He had seemed ill at ease when she thanked him -for allowing her to peruse them, pressed her hand warmly as he bade -her farewell, took his hat from the table in the hall then suddenly -threw it down again, exclaiming,— - -"I cannot leave you without saying, if we never meet again, I shall -die blessing you for your goodness to Stella and to me. Miss Howard, -you have opened a new future before me. You—but I cannot,—I ought -not to say more. Will you add one favor to the many I have received -at your hands? Will you answer a letter from me? May I tell you of my -visit to my native land, to the graves of my parents?" - -He fixed his eyes full on hers, which at last fell before the ardor -of his gaze, while she answered frankly,— - -"Mr. Angus, for Stella's sake and for your own, I shall be very glad -to hear from you. My time will be spent among my poor. If I find -anything to interest you, I will certainly write in answer to yours." - -Marion was practical rather than sentimental, and she plunged into -the business of life as though nothing more than usual had occurred. - -In one day, she visited Mary Falkner at the Home, gave music lessons -to four pupils, went with Hepsey nearly a mile to inquire for one of -her mission boys, and brought home for evening work one of the rolls -from the mission chapel, in order to stencil an additional hymn -upon it. - -Still, wherever she went, however employed her thoughts were with -a lonely traveller whom the waves were every hour carrying farther -and farther away. While driving, with Hepsey by her side, through the -thronged thoroughfares, or sitting at her own well-spread board, the -question constantly recurred: "Why did he say, 'if we never meet -again'? Does he not expect to return?" Then her pulse beat more -warmly as she recalled the expression of his eye, and added, "I know -he hoped we should meet again." - -In the morning Mr. Lambert called, and found her leaning over the -large table in the dining room, printing with the stencil plate the -hymn, work which company had obliged her to postpone the previous -evening. - -He had scarcely taken his seat before he began to scold her. - -"You ought to have a guardian," he began, in loud voice. "Pale as -ashes,—taking work out of the printer's hands, too. Well, they may -starve for all I care. World upside down, as usual." - -"Will you please help me roll this?" asked Marion, turning an arch, -smiling face full upon him. "It must be held very tight, or it will -wrinkle. Mr. Lambert, why don't you help me in my mission school?" - -"Help—mission school—insane idea—couldn't get any scholars— -pretty teacher, indeed!" He grumbled away for some time to himself, -and finally ended with a fit of laughter. "All nonsense,—throwing -away money on bummers, stuff and nonsense—embryo thieves and -murderers." He walked to the window, pretended to be examining the -flowers in the conservatory, pulled out his purse and quickly -concealed a bill in his hand just as Marion, who had finished her -work, said, pleasantly,— - -"You needn't try to deceive me with your grumbling: I found you out -long ago. You would go a mile any time to carry food to the hungry, -only you would want the privilege of scolding them afterwards." - -The eccentric old gentleman hung his head, too much confused even to -grumble at her. - -"How guilty you look!" laughed Marion. "You took me in, once upon a -time." - -"Aye! aye! Frightened you well, that's some comfort." - -"I don't think I was much frightened, though I confess I considered -your manner rather rough. I recollect well that I pitied you for -being so suspicious of everybody." - -He sprang from the floor, shouting,— - -"Suspicious, eh? Suspicious, is it? Pitied me, did you? If any one -else had dared,—well, I'm an old fool, anyway." - -He sat down and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, looking so -pale and hurt that Marion pitied him more than ever. She drew a chair -close to his side and said, soothingly,— - -"Now that we understand each other, I want to tell you a story,— -a true one. You know Hepsey and I go out sometimes to see our friends -in the back alleys." - -"Humph! Yes,—and bring home fevers, and all that." - -"One day I heard a woman crying,—and true enough she had cause. -Her boy had been crushed by a wheel which ran over his legs; -and there he lay on a pile of straw, in a fainting fit. I tried -to bring him to while Hepsey went for an ambulance, and we soon had -him in the care of the doctor, on his way to the hospital. Hepsey and -I followed with the mother. To make a long story short, the injury -was so great that Neddy—that's his name—had both his legs -amputated just above the knees, and he is well again. Now the -question is, What can he do to earn his living? He's a dear, patient -little fellow, and he has made friends of everybody at the hospital. -One of the doctors has given me five dollars for—" - -Mr. Lambert threw down his cane, and pulled out his purse again. - -"No, I don't want money now, I want advice. He can't earn his living -yet awhile; but what can he be fitted for?" - -"I'll get him a place in a printing-office." In his excitement, -Mr. Lambert forgot to grumble. His voice was natural and agreeable. - -"Just the thing! But isn't he too young,—he's only nine?" - -"That's a fault easily cured. He must be put into the Five Points -Mission School till he's twelve,—learn to read and spell, and all -that sort of thing. Where is he?" - -"In the hospital. Will you go with me to see him?" - -"Certainly not. Why should I go? I've nothing to do with it, -any way. You wanted advice and I gave it,—that's all. Don't be -nonsensical now," putting another bill stealthily on the table. -"What did you say the fellow's name is?" - -"Neddy Carter. He isn't strong enough to be carried to that old, -tumble-down attic, and so I have engaged a friend to take him home -with her till he can have his artificial legs made. That's what the -doctor subscribed five dollars for." - -"Wooden legs, eh! That's the plan, is it? Five dollars! Tell this -doctor to mind his own business. I know a man—that is, he owes me— -that is, he will owe me—a bill, and I'll get the legs out of him— -see if I don't. I'll"—grumbling. "Well, I'm going. I don't find -your story very entertaining. It's lucky I'm forgetful: shan't know -anything about it to-morrow. Good-day, Miss Howard. Don't make a fool -of yourself more than you can help." - -He caught his cane and was crossing the room when he saw the bill he -had first taken from his pocket and forgotten lying on the floor. - -"Pretty way to use good money," he said, with a sneer, pointing to -it. "With all your teaching business, you'll never get rich that way, -Miss Howard." - -[Illustration: MARION AND THE CRIPPLED BOY. Page 207] - -"I saw that bill drop from your hand, sir." Marion laughed till all -her dimples came into play. "But you can't have it," she insisted, -as she saw his look of disappointment at being found out. "You've -forfeited the right to it, and I shall add it to my fund for Neddy." - -"Pretty sharp practice that," he grumbled, looking intensely -relieved. "Well, good-day to you." - -The next time Marion went to the hospital a singular circumstance -occurred,—a circumstance which unravelled for her quite a mystery. - -She inquired for Neddy Carter, and was allowed to proceed at once -to the convalescent ward. The boy was sitting in a low chair, which -he had learned to wheel about with great rapidity. As soon as he saw -her, his face brightened, and before he could reach her side -he shouted,— - -"Miss Howard! Miss Howard! Mr. Regy's been here!" - -"And he's such a funny man," said one of the older boys. - -"I wish I had seen him," was Marion's answer. "What did he come for?" - -"To see me. He was awful cross at first, and scolded me for getting -under the wheel like sixty; but I know him, and he's real good for -all that; and I like him; and when I told him I didn't get under the -wheel on purpose he gave me this," pulling a silver dollar from his -pocket. "Will you please take it to help buy my wooden legs?" - -"No, indeed; those will be ready when the doctor says you can wear -them." - -"Mr. Regy says I'm to be a printer," continued the boy, fixing his -large brown eyes on hers; "and I'm to go to school at the -Five Points, and learn to read and spell, and by-and-by, he says, -there's no knowing but I may be a great man, and print newspapers." - -Marion started. This was Mr. Lambert's plan. Had he told Mr. Regy -of it? - -"How does Mr. Regy look?" This inquiry was addressed to one of the -nurses, who was passing. - -"Very oddly," she replied, laughing. "He's about fifty or sixty years -old, very gray hair, which he wears long, floating over his -shoulders." - -Marion laughed too as she said, "I've often heard of him, but I never -saw him." - -Mr. Lambert was over sixty; but his hair, naturally light, had not -turned gray, and was cut short to his head. - -"He stoops a little," added the nurse, "and makes frightful faces. -Some of the little ones were afraid of him, but before he went away -he coaxed them to sit in his lap and put their hands in his pockets, -where they found nuts and raisins and candy in abundance. A lady came -in to see a little cripple, and as she passed him surrounded by a -group of them, Neddy's chair rolled as close as he could get it, -she remarked, smiling, 'It's a blessed work, sir.'" - -"Mr. Regy had not seen her before, and he started to his feet, -looking very angry. - -"'Troublesome little brats!' he shouted, pushing them away." - -"Just like Mr. Lambert," was Marion's reflection. "How very strange -there should be two such men!" - -Just then she noticed that several of the boys were putting their -heads together, whispering and gesturing as they looked toward her. -Presently one came forward, and asked, timidly,— - -"Will you please sing us a tune, Miss Howard?" - -"How do you know I can sing?" she asked, with one of her brightest -smiles. - -"I heard you at the mission Sunday school. I'm Maurice Long, what -used to be sent to the back seat for being allus in mischief." - -Maurice looked anything but humble, as he confessed his faults. - -"Why, Maurice!" exclaimed Marion, holding out her hand. "You have -grown so much I did not know you,—and you are so pale, too." - -"Yes, miss. Me and another boy got into a fight, and I had my head -smashed in, and the p'lice brought me here. I'm going out next week." - -"O Maurice!" - -Marion was interrupted by several voices shouting, "He'd fight agin, -ma'am. He'd oughter. It was ter save a feller littler than him. -Hurrah for Maurice!" - -"How was it, Nurse? I want to hear the story." - -"Maurice had a chance to earn a dime carrying a bundle for a -gentleman from the cars. A little fellow came along, leading a poor, -half-starved dog of which he seemed very fond. Just then a big bully -of a boy met them, and began to tease the dog. When his owner timidly -begged to be let alone, the bully flew at him, and then Maurice -thought it time to interfere. He caught the bully by the hair, and -would not let go till he was terribly bruised. A policeman came up -and arrested both the boys, just as Maurice fainted from loss of -blood. The gentleman had seen the whole fight from beginning to end, -and he followed the bully to the court-room and gave his testimony, -and called Maurice a hero." - -"And a good fighter, too," added Maurice, who had stood by, listening -to all with a kind of proud humility. - -"I am glad you were not fighting to defend your own rights," said -Marion, approvingly. "But who was the gentleman?" - -"He gave his name as Lambert," said the nurse. "There is a very -curious sequel to the story," she added, in a low tone, as they -turned away. - -"Mr. Lambert came here twice before Maurice was well enough to know -him, and showed a good deal of anxiety till he was out of danger, -growling to himself that he ought to have stopped the fight earlier. -He gave the doctor some money for Maurice when he goes away; but the -boy knows nothing of that yet. When Mr. Lambert saw Maurice -he scolded him well; said a street fighter was a mean fellow and -ought to be arrested, and hoped he should never hear of his street -brawls again. - -"His voice was so loud that some of the little ones began to cry, -but Maurice spoke up rather saucily,— - -"I'd fight for you, sir, to-morrow, if you was hit. I know you're -jolly, for all your scolding.'" - -"Well," said Marion, laughing heartily, "what did Mr. Lambert say -to that?" - -"Not a word that we could understand. He went away with his -handkerchief to his face, but when he reached the street he shook -all over with laughter." - -"Shall I sing for the children now?" - -"They will be delighted to hear you." - -Standing in the midst of the ward, with the little ones pressing -to her side, Marion sang the sweet melody set to the words,— - -"Will you come where the sweet-briar grows, -Where the heath flower blossoms around? -Will you come where the hyacinth blows, -And the daisy just peeps from the ground? -There's a bower by the side of yon lake, -'Tis the chosen abode of the rose; -Where the wings of the linnet awake -The leaves from their calm repose." - -Every word was distinctly enunciated, and the children, with bated -breath and sparkling eyes, proved their appreciation by calling out, -"More! Please, Miss Howard, sing more." Smiling, she gave them the -mocking-bird, which was followed by shouts of applause. - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -A MYSTERY SOLVED. - -MISS HOWARD was leaving the hospital when she met the doctor -in charge, who invited her to his private parlor, as he wished -to consult her in regard to her protégé Neddy Carter. - -"I suppose you are acquainted with Mr. Regy,' he said. "He knew your -wishes about the boy." - -"I know him well by report," she answered, "but I have never seen -him." - -"Indeed! He is certainly the most eccentric individual I ever met. -Benevolent and tender-hearted to an extreme, he seems to me like a -man who has learned to mistrust humanity so generally that he hides -every evidence of weakness as carefully as though it were a crime. -Why, the good deeds that man does almost defy belief." - -"I can easily credit your statement, doctor. In my visits to my poor -friends, I am constantly hearing of him. I have known of his paying -rent for a widow who had a sick daughter, month after month, and at -the same time providing her with medicines and food. Yet he would -talk to her about her untidyness till he made her cry; and then he -would go away grumbling that all he could say did no good." - -"I heard some facts concerning his eccentricities from a gentleman -who owns the place next his in the country," continued the doctor, -"which, if they had not come to me from the best authority I would -not credit; but my friend vouches for the facts. - -"Near them lives a woman whose husband was killed on the railroad. -She has two young children, is pleasing in appearance, but wanting -in force. They had always lived in comfort, on the wages her husband -earned. When he was killed, she seemed crushed with grief. -The neighbors made up a purse for her, and Mr. Regy, who had given -generously, was requested to carry it to her. He learned that she -owned her small cottage, to which a barn was attached, but had no -money. He found she had no idea of earning her own living, but when -he proposed that the children be sent to the asylum, and she go out -to work in a mill or family, she cried herself into hysterics, -calling him a cruel, hard-hearted brute for proposing it, wished he -would go away and never come again. - -"This is all my friend learned from Mr. Regy, who denounced her -as ungrateful, unnatural as a mother, a pest to society. -Her neighbors supposed, of course, he gave her up; but he never did, -for a day. He went and berated her till he quite roused her into -action; and finally she said she had been brought up on a farm, -and knew how to make butter and cheese. - -"'What good will that do you?' he asked her, with a sneer. 'Where -are your cows, to make butter from?'" - -"It was some time before she learned what a true friend he was; -but two excellent milkers found their way to her barn, and, in time, -pans and a churn. Then she complained that she was sure she never -could sell her butter and pot-cheese and cried a whole day at the -scolding he gave her. To make a long story short, he sold all her -butter and cheese for her at the highest price, taking the basket -on his own arm, and carrying it to the houses of the regular -customers. A lady on Forty-Second Street told my friend that he -brought butter there regularly every week for more than a year. -She supposed it was from his own farm; and she has a pile of his -receipts signed M. Regy. Once she remonstrated in person with him -for his high prices, when he flew into such a rage that she never -dared approach the subject again." - -"Very, very strange," remarked Marion. "I have a friend who is -extremely odd and uncouth in manner, but is always doing kindnesses -for the poor. His name is Lambert. In many respects your description -of Mr. Regy would answer for both." - -"Do you refer to Mr. M. R. Lambert, a rich old bachelor? Why, I -always thought him the most sarcastic, sour, crusty, old man in my -acquaintance." - -"Only in manner, doctor. He possesses the milk of human kindness in -an uncommon degree. He is a second Mr. Regy. I am confident that any -sum of money I would consent to ask him for in behalf of my protégés -would not be refused; and all the time he would be grumbling that it -was good money thrown away on a thankless class of vagrants." - -"What is Mr. Lambert's full address," inquired the doctor, rising in -an excited manner. - -"M. R. Lambert are his initials. I have scores of his cards." - -"Regy is, I believe, his middle name, and he uses it for a nom de -plume. It can scarcely be credited that there would be two so similar -in their eccentricities. I am almost sure of it." - -"Then he must disguise himself: Mr. Lambert's hair is short, and only -beginning to turn gray." - -"A gray wig is easy to procure. What can be his motive?" - -"It is difficult to conceive, Doctor. I have sometimes imagined that -Mr. Lambert had a motive in so constantly visiting the poorer -classes; but it is only a suspicion. I feel sure, if it were true, -it would do honor to the kindness of the man. I told him the story -of Neddy Carter's injury. He entered into it with great interest,- -said he would get him a place in a printing-office and was almost -angry that any one else had thought of purchasing artificial legs for -the boy." - -"Just what I wished to tell you from Mr. Regy. They are one and the -same. Mr. Regy I shall continue to call him. See, here is the address -he gave me." - -"M. REGY, P.O. BOX 1009." - -On her way home, Marion's thoughts were absorbed in trying to solve -the motives which could govern such a man as Mr. Lambert, and induce -him to figure in so many different characters; for the more she -reflected the more she felt assured that he and Mr. Regy were the -same. It might be that some early disappointment had thus twisted and -gnarled a naturally lovely character. It might be that some one -he had once loved and trusted had betrayed his confidence, and thus -rendered him suspicious of all mankind. She resolved to watch him -closely, and to endeavor to lighten his burden, whatever it might be. - -Approaching her own door, she perceived a carriage standing there. -With her thoughts still on the discovery she had made, she ran up the -steps and encountered Eugene Cheriton struggling in the arms of -James, who had been told to take him back to his mother in the -parlor. - -The boy readily yielded to her wish, and went upstairs with her, -where she was both surprised and pleased to find not only -Mrs. Cheriton but Mrs. Douglass awaiting her arrival. - -The latter lady seemed to have taken out a new lease of life, since -her return to the city. She acknowledged that she liked New York, -and should leave it with reluctance. - -"I hope you do not intend to leave it," urged Marion. - -The lady glanced anxiously at her daughter before she answered. -"Necessity may compel us to do so." - -Mrs. Cheriton's countenance had no reflection of her mother's -anxiety. She sat as usual, with her handsome head thrown a little -back, her large, black eyes lustrous as ever, her lips wreathed -in the same set smile; but there seemed no soul in her face. -She appeared to have wrapped herself in a veil, which, in Marion's -presence, had never been lifted for one instant. - -Eugene, beautiful and restless as ever, ran here and there -unrestrained, demanding the reason for this or that, preventing -so effectually any attempt at conversation that Marion, who wished -for an opportunity to talk with Mrs. Douglass, at last persuaded her -to remain for the day, insisting that she herself had no engagements -which would interfere with the pleasure of such a visit. - -"While you are taking your siesta," she urged, "I can go to my -pupils; and then we will have quiet chat, or drive in the park, -as you prefer." - -"This is just the opportunity I have long desired," remarked Mrs. -Douglass, as after an hour's rest she had partaken of a nice lunch, -and was seated in Marion's most comfortable chair. "I want to tell -you some facts in my early life which will account for my being here -in America." - -"I shall feel honored by your confidence," returned Marion, gazing -with affection into the still beautiful face, so like and yet unlike -her daughter's. "Let me bring my crocheting, and we can be as cosey -as we please." - -"I told Mr. Angus some things about our history. He may have repeated -them to you." - -"Not a word, dear lady," bending over her work to conceal the rosy -hue which colored her cheeks at the mention of his name. - -"I told him, that, although Juliette and myself are living alone, -we are neither of us widows,—at least we are not knowingly such,— -but let me go back to early days. - -"My father was an Englishman, and in his thirty-first year was sent -to Spain as minister from the court of England. He was stationed at -Madrid, where he met my mother, daughter of a nobleman in that city. -The liking between them was mutual, and ended in marriage after an -acquaintance of a few months. I have heard it said that seldom had -a couple so distinguished for beauty, and every charm which makes -life desirable, been witnessed in our proud old city. - -"A year after their marriage a son was born, who was named Henreich, -for my maternal grandfather. Three years later I appeared on the -scene. As no other children followed, and we were the only -grandchildren on the mother's side, you can easily imagine that our -wishes, whims, and caprices ruled the entire household. - -"Henreich, beautiful, bold, wilful, and unrestrained, became at last -a terror to both parents and servants. To me only was he loving and -gentle; but even when in a fury of rage, he would yield to my -entreaties and tears. I need not say that he was my idol. I loved him -as sister never loved brother before. What I suffered when, unable -longer to endure the anxieties and terror which his bold daring -continually occasioned my parents, he was sent to England to be -educated, I have no words to describe. - -"It could scarcely be expected that a high-spirited lad, accustomed -to have his own way, would yield at once to authority; at least -Henreich did not, and soon fell into such disgrace that he was -expelled from the school. My uncle, to whose care he had been -committed, wrote, resigning the charge. He reproached my father -in the most unmeasured terms for neglecting to restrain the boy's -temper, which had led him in an ungovernable fit of fury to attempt -the life of one of his teachers, after which he fled, and nothing -could be heard from him. Father went to England at once. I never knew -what occurred there, but when he came home he said Henreich was dead -to us, and forbade that his name ever be mentioned. - -"You will see later why I dwell so long on these sad events. -I mourned over my brother, and, not being allowed to speak of him, -I brooded over his troubles until at last I forgot that he had been -to blame for them. I even came to regard him as a hero, who had been -unjustly treated. - -"All the fond pride which would have been cherished for both of us -was now lavished on me. I scarcely had a wish but it was gratified. -With the exception of my trouble at the separation from my brother, -I scarcely knew the meaning of the word, till in my fourteenth year -I accompanied my parents to England, and they left me to finish my -education. - -"I was now in the same country where Henreich had been, but I never, -except on one occasion, heard his name mentioned. I asked my uncle -Douglass if he knew where my brother was, and was answered, with a -terrible frown,— - -"'No, I do not. He may be dead, for all I care.' - -"I never inquired again. - -"I was in England two years, and returned to Spain 'finished,' as my -graduation from school with high honors was called. It was then -I entered on a course of gayety, such as I had never even imagined. -Though very young, my hand was asked frequently in marriage; but my -heart was never touched till one evening, at a gay assembly, I met -a young American, with whom I danced nearly all night. Only the third -time we met he told me he loved me, and asked me to be his wife. -I confessed that I returned his affection, and sent him to my father. - -"But now, for the first time in my life, I met opposition. My father -and mother, foolishly fond and proud of their only child, considered -it quite beneath me to marry an untitled foreigner. They talked as -though royalty itself might be honored by an alliance with me. -This opposition naturally fixed my determination to marry the man -of my choice, notwithstanding all obstacles. I instantly invested him -with the whole catalogue of virtues and when, added to these, sadness -on his part proved his undying attachment, I made a martyr of him,— -a martyr dying for my love. - -"Under these circumstances I gave my parents no rest. My lover -offered letters to prove that he was worthy; and at length, worn out -by my entreaties and my evident loss of bloom, father did secretly -write to a friend in London, requesting him to ascertain from -Mr. Post, banker in that city, in regard to his position and -prospects. - -"This it was easy to do through correspondents from the London -Banking House, and the result was so satisfactory, both as to -character and wealth, that my friend was allowed to renew his visits, -which speedily terminated in my betrothal. I have often thought -since, that, had my parents allowed the acquaintance to proceed at -first without opposition, all would have ended differently; for as -the intimacy advanced, even before our marriage, I discovered certain -traits which greatly annoyed me. - -"I had been accustomed to the expression of admiration, and enjoyed -it; but I was faithful and true to my lover. He considered the looks -and tones of flattery an insult both to me and to him. He constantly -urged our immediate union; but to this my parents would not consent, -except on one condition. Until I was twenty-one, my home must be with -them. On my eighteenth birthday, with the reluctant consent of all my -relatives, I became a wife. For a month or two I was very happy. -I found my husband intelligent, with a cultivated mind, and a kind -heart. We were alone in a villa belonging to my grandfather, and -proved so sufficient for mutual happiness that I returned home with -great regret. Oh, that we had never returned!" - -Marion had been so absorbed in the recital that she had failed -to notice the increasing pallor of the narrator. Struck with the -intense sadness of the last tone, she started to find her visitor -sinking back in her chair, her lips blanched, her hands trembling. - -Throwing aside her work, she ran to her chamber for cologne, -with which she bathed the forehead and hands of the lady, then rang -for James to bring her a cup of fresh coffee. - -She insisted that Mrs. Douglass should rest before she continued her -interesting story; but the lady, with a sigh, urged,— - -"I may never have so favorable an opportunity to finish. My sad tale -is nearly ended, and I shall be greatly relieved when I have told my -only American friend my folly and my punishment; so resume your work, -and let me end the recital as briefly as possible." - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -TEARS OF REPENTANCE. - -I HAD only been in Madrid a few weeks before I found that my husband -was jealous, unreasonably jealous. He was so exacting that he -demanded all my attention. If I conversed with my old acquaintances, -young or old, of either sex, he made a scene. My father remonstrated, -and they came to open fight, my husband declaring that he would have -no interference with his wife. To avoid quarrelling I gave up -society, and even at my father's table became constrained in manner, -scarcely daring to speak lest I should meet the reproachful eyes -of my husband fixed upon me. Finding that even this reticence did not -satisfy him, I went to the other extreme, talked and laughed—yes, -and flirted too,—with any one. This went on for more than a year. -I need not say that we were both wretched; for, strange as it was, -I still loved my husband, in memory of the few weeks of unalloyed -happiness after our marriage. I think he loved me, too, though he had -greatly changed,—grown cold and sarcastic. - -"I was driving out one afternoon in company with a servant, when I -met a traveller, alone and on foot, who started at my approach, gazed -fixedly in my face as we slowly passed, and then ran after the -carriage. I was in delicate health, and his sudden reappearance -greatly startled me. In his excitement he did not notice my fright; -but, speaking a few words in English, he forced me to alight and join -him at a distance. It was Henreich, my brother, my long-lost idol, -shattered and destroyed. The fiercest passions lighted his -magnificent eyes. He asked for father, and cursed both him and his -own bad luck that our parents still lived. When I hurriedly told him -I was married, he was so angry he would have struck me. He asked -for money, saying, repeatedly,— - -"'I must have money. I will have my portion of the estate. By fair -means or foul, I will have what I want.'" - -"I could not get away from him till I had given him my purse and -every jewel I had about me, and had promised to meet him at night -in a retired part of our grounds,—I thought I could steal away -unobserved. - -"Perhaps I could have done so but for the servant, who was afterwards -discovered to be a spy my husband had set upon me, who told him -of the strange meeting as soon as we returned home. He had never -heard my brother's name, and must have wondered at my conduct. - -"I went instantly to my chamber, where Mr.— soon joined me, coming -to the couch where I lay, and gazing in my face with such marks of -agony as I could not account for. - -"At that moment my love came upon me with all its fervor. I put up my -arms and drew him down to me, and wept on his shoulder. I kissed him -repeatedly, and did not notice at the time that my caresses were not -returned. I was so exhausted by what had passed that I fell asleep. -I woke, shouting,— - -"Henreich! O Henreich, go away! Why did you come back?' - -"'Who is Henreich?' My husband's voice was so stern, so unnatural, -that it frightened me. In one instant I realized that if I said, -'He is my brother,' he would not believe in the existence of one of -whom he had never heard. Indeed, my father often spoke of me as his -only child. If he did believe me, Henreich would be discovered, and -my father's name disgraced; for, from what I had seen, I was sure his -life had become wholly corrupt. These thoughts flashed through my -mind, as my husband stood with blanched face and eyes protruding -looking into mine. Would that I had explained all to him! I am sure -love for me was struggling in his breast with the contempt -he imagined I deserved; but I did not explain. I resolved that -I would give all the money I could raise to my brother, and send him -away; that when he was out of reach I would tell my husband the whole -story, under a promise from him of secrecy.'" - -Mrs. Douglass hid her face in her hands, unable to proceed. - -Tears were trickling down Marion's cheeks. - -"Perhaps I am doing wrong to tell you all this, Miss Howard. -You blame me for my want of frankness, but not half so much as -I deserve, and you will see that I have been terribly punished. -I stole from the house at the hour I had promised to meet my brother, -with a large sum of money in my hand, and a letter in which I told -him it was the last time I would help him. I begged him to go away, -and begin a life of honesty and virtue I signed myself your -affectionate sister. - -"My husband was watching, and saw me go out. He followed, heard the -sound of excited voices, saw Henreich take me in his arms, and, as he -thought, strain me to his breast. Alas! it was a ruffian who held me, -while he tried to force me to yield to him my betrothal ring, -a superb diamond. He succeeded in wrenching it from my finger. How I -regained the house I never knew. I found myself in my own room on a -couch, with my maid bending over me. I was told afterward that one -swoon had succeeded another, physicians had been summoned, and -remedies administered. At the sound of my voice mother came forward -with our attending physician. Another spasm came on. Two days later -I lay hovering between life and death, and my little babe lay beside -me, the very image of Henreich as he was when I first remembered him. - -"I was too sick at first to notice the absence of my husband. -I learned later that he saw me fall in trying to reach the house, -caught me in his arms, and laid me on the couch. He summoned my own -maid, who saw him seize a few papers from the drawer and go out into -the darkness. From that day to this I have never seen him. All these -years, if he has lived through them, he has believed me to be a -guilty thing, not worthy even of his contempt. All these years his -child has never heard her father's name, and he whose heart was -always touched with the sorrows of a child has never heard the sacred -name of father from his child's lips. Too late I learned to love him -with an intense affection, which, if it had been cherished earlier, -would have led me to overlook faults of manner and roughness of -speech which, perhaps, after all, were put on to disguise deep -feeling. - -"Only once in all these long, weary years have I heard from him. -Our beautiful babe was two months old when my father received a -letter, stating that a sum of money had been placed in the hands -of trustees, who were named, for the benefit of my child, if living. -He said that he considered the marriage tie broken, and that he -should never trouble me again. - -"He was right: believing of me what he did, he could not do -otherwise. I honor him for it,—but I must hurry to a close. - -"Henreich did not succeed in escaping the vigilance of persons who -were in search of him. He had hoped to secure enough from me to reach -a foreign land and chide justice. When his arrest was made public, -the servant who had been with me on my first meeting Henreich -confessed, with bitter tears, that she had told my husband that which -caused him to watch me on that dreadful night. She said his agony -of grief at what he called the certainty of my unfaithfulness -frightened her, and she ran away, repenting that she had told him. - -"Henreich's arrest and death, though under an assumed name, threw my -mother into a fever, from which she never recovered. Two years later, -father married a Spanish widow, with several sons and daughters. -The eldest son was ten years older than Juliette, and was being -educated in France and Germany. He returned to his home when she was -only a few months over fourteen, became enamoured of her beauty, and -a secret engagement took place. When I learned of it I refused my -consent; but the infatuated child followed the example of her mother, -and would not yield her own wishes. His mother agreed with me; but my -father said there was no blood relation between them, and if they -would wait till she was of proper age there was no objection. - -"This half-consent was enough for Arthur Cheriton. He took Juliette -out for a drive one day. When they returned they were man and wife. -After living together a year, he found her unformed in mind and -wilful in temper. He went to England on the plea that after obtaining -a situation he would send for her. - -"Eugene was just one month old when his father left home. We have -never seen him since. A small fortune from my father at his death, -together with the income from the sum my husband settled on us, has -sufficed for our maintenance. It will support Juliette and her boy -in comfort; but it is for her I fear. She has many of poor Henreich's -traits, and her beauty attracts many admirers. My prayer is that the -heavy afflictions which have separated us from those we love may wean -her from earth as they have the mother; that she may find in the -exercise of the duties of a Christian life the solace nothing else -can give. - -"One word more and I have done. Once a year we have heard from -Arthur, whom I have always kept advised of our place of residence. -I have reason to suppose he is in America, perhaps in New York. -This was what led me to say that we might be compelled to leave the -city. Juliette has lost all her love for him, and insists that she -will never recognize the tie which binds them together. As long as I -live, I shall go with her where she goes; but I know death may claim -me at any time,—and then what will become of my child?" - -"Was your husband's name Douglass, too?" - -"I took my father's name when he cast me off." - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -LETTERS FROM THE PASTOR. - -"HOW true it is," said Marion, as, after she had taken Mrs. Douglass -to her home, she was seated in her own parlor,—"how true that the -sins of the parents are visited on the children! God's threatenings -are as faithful as his promises. I cannot be thankful enough that -I have had a pious ancestry, and that their prayers may be answered -in blessings on their descendants. How little that father realized -that, in allowing his son and daughter the indulgence of every -caprice, they were sowing seed which would spring up to their own -sorrow and shame! How little even Mrs. Cheriton realizes that she is -pursuing the same evil course with her boy, and that from being her -idol he will become her tyrant! I promised Mrs. Douglass that I would -be a friend to the youthful mother; indeed she urged that Mr. Angus -had advised her to confide her story to me, and had been confident -that I would not forsake her. I will try to keep my promise." - -Mr. Angus sailed early in June, and, except a notice in the papers of -the safe arrival of the steamship in Liverpool, no news from him had -been received. Mrs. Asbury wrote Marion that her long-promised visit -would be paid the last week in the month, and that she expected her -niece to return with her to Grantbury. At the close was the following -hurried postscript:— - -"I have opened my letter to add that Mr. Asbury has just received -a brief communication from our dear pastor. He is well, preached on -Sunday in London, both morning and afternoon, sent affectionate -regards to all friends including you and Ethel, of course." - -Marion read the message with a heightened color. Her heart rebelled -against being remembered in this general way; then, reading again, -was pleased to see that this was only her aunt's rendering of his -message. She fell into a revery concerning the absent one. "He told -me I was the only confidant he ever had. In aunty's last letter she -narrated exactly what he told her in regard to the triumphant death -of a friend. She has no idea that I knew his sister, nor of the -painful events of his early life. I will not betray his confidence; -and yet it will be a trial to me to keep anything of interest to -myself from my dear, kind aunty. I wonder whether he will write me, -and when." - -She was interrupted by James, who brought the morning paper. - -"Nothing else?" she asked, in a tone of disappointment. - -"Nothing at all." - -Looking at her watch, she saw there would not be time to read the -news before the carriage was due. She folded it in an abstract -manner, walked to the rack to put it in, when she saw the end of -a letter protruding from a newspaper inside. As this was not the -place for letters, she took it out, and found to her surprise -it was unsealed, and—"Yes, it is," she said aloud, "it is -postmarked London." - -Mr. Angus began by asking,— - -Am I intruding too much on your kindness by sending you a few lines -at so early a date? If so, forgive me, and remember that though I am -in my native land, standing on the spot where my fathers stood, yet I -am a stranger. I feel lonely to-night, and would gladly transport -myself back to my adopted country. We had a prosperous voyage,— -prosperous so far as it could be to one who was being removed farther -and farther from home and home friends. How much would I give to have -my little Ethel in my arms, and hear her sweet voice whispering in -my ear, "I love you!" - -You will turn from my page, I fear, disgusted with my home-sickness, -and I will tell you of other things. - -I have been occupied with business in London, but start to-morrow -for Doncaster, and from that place shall proceed to Leyden. There is -a post-office in Leyden. If I should find there a letter directed to -me, it would make me very happy. - -I write Mr. Asbury by this same steamer, and shall send my messages -direct to them. - -May God bless you, my dear Miss Howard, and reward you for all your -kindness to me and mine, is the sincere prayer of your friend, - -HAROLD ANGUS. - -There was one person only to whom Marion spoke of the relief which -had come to the Grantbury pastor, and this was to Mary Falkner. This -young girl, in the midst of her own suffering, never forgot to pray -that God would lead him into the light. It was Marion's precious -privilege to change these prayers to praise for mercies already -bestowed. - -It was during a visit made to the Home, and when the conversation had -reverted to friends in Grantbury, that Mary inquired who was -preaching there. "Mother goes every Sunday to church," she went on, -"and says she enjoys it. She told me word had come across the water -from the pastor, that he was safe on land the other side." - -Marion laughed at the curious phraseology of the widow, and then -said, "Your prayers for him have been answered, Mary. He is no longer -weighed down by sad memories. I will report to you what he told Aunt -Asbury." - -The cripple clasped her hands, while a fervent expression of joy -stole over her face. - -"God be praised!" she ejaculated. "He will be far more useful in his -work now. He can 'rejoice with those who do rejoice, as well as weep -with those who weep.'" - - - -PART II. - -CHAPTER I. - -GRANTBURY AND THE FIRST CHURCH. - -GRANTBURY is a manufacturing town. It has six churches, of the -different denominations. The largest and most flourishing church -was the one over which Mr. Angus was settled as pastor. A branch -of this church had gone off some years before and had built a chapel -near one of the factories, hoping to bring in many of the employés, -who were neglectful of public worship. This had not been as -successful as had been hoped; the clergyman was so poorly supported -that he left, and of late the effort of the Christian workers had -been concentrated on the Sunday school. The usual attendance here -was about one hundred. - -Two years before the commencement of our story, an unusual excitement -prevailed in the town, caused by the proposition of a few speculators -to build a new railroad direct to the principal cities east and west -of them, thus connecting them with the great thoroughfares. -The capitalists who owned most of the stock in the branch railroad -which connected them three times in a day with the next town at first -opposed the new project; but Mr. Asbury, with a wider and more -far-reaching view of the results, advocated it both by public -speeches and offers of money. - -As he was a large land-owner, and the railroad would have to pass -through one of his most valuable farms, it was argued by those -wishing the new road, that he must be advocating it for the good -of the public against his private interests. So, indeed, he was. -The new road was chartered, and in time in working order. -A compromise to purchase from the owners of the branch road twelve -miles which came in their direct route satisfied all parties; -so that, when, the new, tasteful depot with the long baggage-room -replaced the forlorn little station with shed attached, there was -a general burst of enthusiasm. - -The two years following this made a marvelous change in the old, -quiet village. Mr. Asbury had given a beautiful site for the new -depot, on conditions which had been complied with. The grass land -belonging to his largest farm had been laid out in squares, with -a park in the centre, and sold for house lots. The buildings put up -there according to the terms of sale, must not be less than a -stipulated cost; and thus a pretty village was growing up in this -part of the town. - -Mr. Angus's church was half a mile from the station, and quite near -Mr. Asbury's dwelling house. The stimulus in all branches of business -had been so great since the new railroad had been built that the main -street had been widened, and set out with shade trees at the border -of the flagged sidewalks. - -Nor was the prosperity confined to the vicinity of the depot. -The increased demand for vegetables, milk, etc., from the new-comers -made the land too valuable for the farmers to cultivate grass and -corn for their own use. Large fields with southern exposures were -planted with early and late vegetables and small fruits, which found -a ready sale at their own new market. - -This was the condition of the town when Mr. Angus became the pastor -of the First Church. During the nine months following his -ordination, the church building had become so crowded that a -suggestion of enlarging by transepts had been made. It was an -old-fashioned edifice, with unnecessarily roomy slips, white walls, -high pulpit, and poor ventilation. Mr. Asbury was opposed to -enlarging, but did not consider it time to give his reasons. - -At a meeting of the trustees directly after Mr. Angus went abroad, -it was proposed that the work of enlarging be entered upon -immediately, and finished by the time of the pastor's return. -Some money was subscribed; but when the paper was passed to -Mr. Asbury, he refused to sign any thing. As a large subscription -had been hoped for, this refusal threw a damper on the undertaking; -but a committee was appointed to report in one week, and the meeting -adjourned. - -During this very week a fire broke out in carpenter's shop filled -with combustible matter. The flames carried sparks and half-burned -sticks to several houses in the vicinity, and among them to the -building belonging to the First Church. The committee met, and all -the male members with them, not to report on the cost of the proposed -alterations, but to consult what was to be done in this sudden and -terrible emergency. - -The old sturdy farmers were near despair, but supposed they must do -something to repair the temple of the Lord, and were thankful that -the walls, being of brick, were still standing. - -Others had a plan that a new town hall, just finished, should be -hired, and public worship held there till such time as they were able -to recover from the effects of the terrible calamity which had -overtaken them. - -Mr. Asbury and a few friends belonging to the wealthy portion of the -church remained silent listeners to the views of the older brethren. -At length, after an hour spent in lamentations over the calamity, and -propositions which were considered impracticable, the moderator -of the meeting remarked,— - -"We have talked an hour to no purpose. Will some one make a -proposition as to a place of worship for us next Sunday?" - -After a momentary pause, Mr. Asbury quietly rose from his seat -with an open paper in his hand. There was not the least trace of -excitement in his manner, as he said, "I have here a letter, which I -will read. It is from the trustees of the Methodist Episcopal Church -in our town, and is addressed to me. - -"MR. EDWARD ASBURY: - -"Dear Sir, At a meeting of our board of trustees the day following -the burning of your church edifice, a resolve was unanimously voted -that we deeply sympathize in your loss of your house of worship, and -that we tender to you the free use of our church building till such -time as you may repair your edifice or otherwise provide for -yourselves. - -"With fraternal love and good-will, - -"Very respectfully -"MOSES HUNT. - -"By order of trustees of Methodist Episcopal Church, Grantbury." - -A motion to accept this friendly offer was at once passed, and then -Mr. Asbury rose again and said,— - -"I have a proposition to make; but, first, I ask you to listen to a -few facts. I have made a careful investigation into the state of our -church building, the walls of which are still standing. It is -fifty-eight years old; the beams are rotten. It ought to be a source -of gratitude that we have escaped a greater calamity by reason of the -falling in of the walls, from the cellar being unventilated. -It cannot be repaired. This is the opinion of the best experts I have -been able to obtain. I propose, then, that we sell it as it stands, -to some gentlemen who offer five thousand dollars for the site. -They intend, if they obtain it, to put up a large hotel." - -"It's a good offer." - -"Take it." - -"I object." - -"We must have the land to build again." - -"We need a hotel for summer residents." - -"We can worship in the town hall." - -"Or disband altogether," grumbled a man who never contributed a -penny. - -Altogether the clamor following this proposition prevented any -further remarks from Mr. Asbury, if he had wished to make any, and he -sat down with a smile on his face. - -Several groups were at once formed, and loud, excited voices were -heard discussing this unexpected proposal; some were for accepting, -others positively refused to quit the old spot dedicated by their -fathers to the worship of God. At length the moderator, with a loud -rap on the table, called the meeting to order, and inquired whether -any gentleman had anything further to say before the proposal was put -to vote. - -Mr. Asbury rose again, this time with a little flush on his face, -as he remarked, "I am not in the habit, as you, my friends, are -aware, of speaking of myself; but I would like to say that I have the -welfare of this parish greatly at heart. We are blessed with a good -pastor,—a live, working man. I believe he will be more useful in -the future than he has been in the past; that he is a growing man. -I believe that he will return to us with greatly improved health and -spirits, and enter on his work again with new hope and confidence of -success. I want to show him that we appreciate him by building him -a new church large enough to accommodate all the new families who -wish to join us. When a proposition was made at our last meeting -to enlarge our old building, I did not subscribe, because I knew the -work would cost more in the end than to begin a new one. I have had -some sad experience, as many of you know" (smiling), "as to the cost -of repairing old buildings. Now that the fire has rendered that -undertaking impracticable, I propose to your board of trustees -to accept a lot of land on the rising ground, half-way between this -and the new depot, which I freely tender to them." - -Shouts of "Yes," "We will," etc., were checked by a wave of -Mr. Asbury's hand, as he added,— - -"Wait a little: I have not done yet; there are conditions. I wish -to say that a subscription paper has already been started for a new -edifice costing not less than twenty thousand dollars, and the sum of -fourteen thousand eight hundred dollars, including five thousand for -our old church building, already subscribed, on condition that the -whole amount be raised, and no mortgage ever be allowed upon it." - -Profound silence followed this speech, which was like a bombshell -thrown into an unprotected house; then a few whispers were heard,— - -"Five thousand and more to raise. Where will it come from?" - -"'T would have cost ten to repair, and 't would have been an old -building after all." - -At last, Mr. Rand, an aged, white-haired farmer, stood up. - -"I'm an old man," he said, "and not long for this world; but I hope -to live to see the new church built on that 'ere spot yonder, which, -in my opinion, is the pootiest place for a church in the hull town,— -yes, and to worship God in it, too. I'm not rich, and I'm not poor. -I've got nigh upon two thousand dollars in the savings bank, laid up -for a wet day. My children are all married and settled on farms of -their own; so I sha'n't do any of 'em wrong if I add my name to -Mr. Asbury's paper," holding out his hand for it. "There," he said, -deliberately taking off the glasses he had put on to write,— -"there's fifteen thousand three hundred subscribed on the above-named -conditions. If necessary, I'll add another five hundred; and I'm sure -my old woman will say so, too." - -"After this noble example," rejoined the moderator, more moved by the -old man's words than he liked to show, "I'll put down my name for the -same sum as he did." - -Smaller sums were at once added, so that when the meeting adjourned, -after the appointment of a building committee, only one thousand more -was necessary to make up the entire amount. This was to be obtained -by personal solicitation from the families of those not represented -at the meeting, and a committee of ladies was requested to take this -work in hand. - - - -CHAPTER II. - -VISIT TO INGLESIDE. - -THE architect employed by the building committee had submitted a plan -for the new church,—Gothic, high spire, and stained-glass windows. -It was accepted, the foundation laid, the walls, which were to be of -native stone, raised to the height of seven feet, when a letter was -received from Mr. Angus, enclosing a slip cut from a London -newspaper. - -"A very innocent-looking paragraph," exclaimed Mr. Asbury to his -wife. "But what a stir it will make in the parish!" - -It was the announcement of an urgent call given to the Rev. Harold -Angus, of New York City, United States of America, to settle over the -—Church, —Street, London, at a salary of one thousand pounds. - -In addition to the printed paragraph, Mr. Angus had written,— - -DEAR FRIENDS,— - -Mail going out. Only time to say that the call alluded to, and the -enclosed slip, in which it was announced, came to hand by -the same mail, and was wholly unexpected. Fearing you might see it -copied into a New York paper, I forward it, and will write more at -length by next steamer. - -H. ANGUS. - -Before the close of the day in which the letter was received, few -belonging to the First Church were ignorant of its contents. -Mr. Asbury was right. The news created a great excitement, not only -in their own parish, but throughout the town. A meeting of the voters -in the First Church was called to express their opinions in regard to -the subject of the paragraph. - -After the opening exercises, Mr. Asbury stated the object of the -meeting. Mr. Rand then started to his feet, and with a quick glance -around the room, said, in a loud voice,— - -"I'm as deaf as a post, from a cold I got down on my medder, and I -can't hear a word you say; but my wife, she's heerd that some folks -'t other side of the water are trying to get our pastor away from us, -and she told me to come here and vote it right down. It's a shame, -anyway, for Christians to be a-pulling and a-tearing of one another. -We've got the first right to Mr. Angus, and I vote that we hold on -to him, and let them get a minister nearer home. That's all I've got -to say. If it's more salary than we pay him, I guess I can help make -up the difference between what they'll give and what we do." - -A hearty laugh followed this speech, and, as Mr. Rand had expressed -in brief the wishes of all present, the meeting soon adjourned, after -a unanimous vote "to hold on to their pastor," and make the question -of salary satisfactory to him. - -One of his neighbors having screamed this result into Mr. Rand's ear, -he mounted his farm-wagon with a significant nod of his head. - -"All right!" he shouted, at the top of his voice. "I darsn't go home -till I knew the parish would hold on to him. My old woman would—you -know." His voice was lost in the distance. - -Perhaps if the good farmer had known the contents of a letter which -at this very hour was being carried by wind and steam across the -Atlantic he would have been still more jubilant as he sat eating his -supper of cold corned beef and greens, and telling his wife, between -the mouthfuls, the news he had learned at the meeting. - -Mrs. Asbury made her visit to Marion at the time she had promised, -taking Ethel with her. Of course all the Grantbury news was -rehearsed, in the course of which the pastor's name was frequently -mentioned. Ethel, meanwhile, had succeeded in coaxing Gypsy, a pet -spaniel belonging to Mrs. Mitchell, to allow herself to be dressed in -one of her dolly's cloaks. - -"Now," she said, "we are going to sail on a voyage to Europe, to see -Mr. Angus. You must sit very still, doggy, because it's Sunday. -I shall teach you a hymn by and by,"— - -"'I must not play on Sunday.'" - -"When we get to Europe, I shall let you go with me to Ingleside, -you know. There is a pretty garden at Ingleside, with an arbor all -covered with grape vines. If you are good till we get there,— -sit still, Gypsy,—oh, how naughty you are to pull off your nice -cloak!" - -By this time Gypsy thought she ought to be released, and jumped from -the sofa, where Ethel had placed her, at which the little girl burst -into a merry laugh. - -"What is she talking about?" asked Marion, in a low tone. - -"Where is Ingleside, Ethel?" inquired her mother. - -"Why, don't you know? It is Mr. Angus's home, where his grandfather -used to live. When he was a little boy, his mamma let him go there -sometimes; and he had hens and little goats to play with. We talk -about it when we are taking a walk, you know." - -"What a pretty name Ingleside is," remarked Marion, without raising -her eyes from her work. She was making a fine dress for Frances, -Ethel's favorite doll, and of course the excitement of this was what -made her cheeks look so rosy. - -During Ethel's visits Marion invited Geenie Cheriton to take a drive -with them and pass the rest of the day with the little girl. They all -gave a sigh of relief, however, when James started with him for his -home, and Mrs. Asbury said,— - -"I wonder how Mrs. Douglass can endure that child's noise. It is such -a pity that he should be ruined by indulgence." - -"I wouldn't be that boy's nurse for a fortune," exclaimed Hepsey, -who was putting up the toys Geenie had pulled about. "They'll have -a time with him if he lives." - -Mr. Lambert called during Mrs. Asbury's visit, and was introduced -to the guests. He seemed greatly attracted by Ethel, who fixed her -large violet eyes seriously upon him. He succeeded at last in coaxing -her to his side, when they had quite an animated conversation. -Before they parted he gave her a beautiful little charm, whist he -unhooked from his watch-chain. - -This was the first time Marion had seen him since her discovery that -Mr. Regy, of whom she had heard so much, was only the double of her -old friend. She longed to ask him about it, but would not before -strangers. She contented herself with inquiries about Neddy Carter, -who was soon to be admitted to the mission school. - -Only two days after Mrs. Asbury's return to Grantbury, -Marion received a thick letter with a foreign postmark,—Leyden, -Yorkshire. She retired quickly to her own chamber, and sat down with -blooming cheeks to its perusal. - -I have no intention of copying the letter, but will say that, after -giving her an account of his visit to his home,—a visit which -almost overwhelmed him with its painful memories,—and visiting the -graves of father, mother, and brother as they lay side by side under -the old yew-trees, he took the cars for Ingleside, his father's -ancestral home in Leyden. He told her he found only an old servant, -a retainer of the family, who received him as one from the dead. -His grandfather had four children born here,—one son and three -daughters. When he died, in Harold's twelfth year, his property was -divided equally between them, except Ingleside, which was always -to be kept in the family, and after the death of his daughters -to revert to his oldest grandson. - -Estelle Angus, for whom Stella was named, made a will and left her -namesake her heir. Mary and Sarah died without making a will, and the -property came to Harold, as the nearest of kin. It was not a great -fortune that he found awaiting him, Mr. Angus told Marion, but, with -the money left in the bank by his father, it was sufficient to enable -him to carry out some cherished plans. - -One of these plans was to build a pretty home on a certain knoll -in Grantbury (the very one Mr. Asbury had given to the church), to be -called Ingleside; but there was one word from her which must come -before the new Ingleside could be built. - -Then followed certain statements in regard to a diagnosis recently -made of his heart, which conveyed to the young lady a pretty accurate -idea of what the word must be, in order that the English cottage be -erected. - -By this time Marion, by certain unwelcome symptoms, which had forced -themselves on her notice was aware of the strength of her own -attachment for her pastor, and, being naturally frank and outspoken, -she wrote the word (a very short one), which, could he have known it, -would have set good Farmer Rand's mind at rest in regard "to holding -on" to his pastor. - -In a note added to his letter, immediately following the receipt of -the call from the London church, Mr. Angus added:— - -"I have just forwarded to Mr. Asbury an invitation to settle in our -great metropolis. Would you prefer to live in England? Of course I -could not give the parish an idea of what my answer will be till -I hear from you. Am I presumptuous? You first taught me to be -hopeful. Am I too daring to hope now?" - -Early one morning soon after this, Mrs. Douglass sent Marion a note, -requesting her to call at her earliest convenience. - -On entering the house where Mrs. Douglass had rooms, Marion met -in the hall a dashing young man, dressed in the height of the -fashion, with a lighted cigar in his hand. She would have passed him -without notice, but for a bold stare, which sent the indignant blood -to her cheeks. - -The knock at Mrs. Douglass's door was for a minute unanswered; -then Mrs. Cheriton opened it, her eyes still flashing defiance, -her head thrown back, but looking more brilliantly beautiful than the -visitor had ever seen her. - -Mrs. Douglass had evidently been under some strong excitement: -her eyes were red with crying, and her hands trembled. - -Eugene came forward with a rush to meet the lady. He was dressed for -a walk and insisted that Marion should accompany him. - -"I am on my way to my music scholars," explained the visitor, taking -the little fellow in her arms. "Some time you shall go with me." - -"I'm going to walk with you," said his mother haughtily. - -"How can I aid you, dear friend?" asked Marion, when the outer door -had shut upon the others. - -"Did you meet a gentleman as you came in?" - -"I did. I can guess that he is Mr. Cheriton." - -"Oh, no! no! Would that he were here. Juliette is so young: she does -not consider; she is—I am pained to say so—she is imprudent. -Arthur has no right to leave her unprotected. She wrung her hands -in great distress, her eyes full of tears. - -"Who is he?" - -"His name is Alford. Juliette accompanied one of our fellow-boarders -to the theatre, and was introduced to him there. He has been here -every day since. She has just promised, in my presence, and contrary -to my wishes, to go to the theatre with him to-night. I am powerless -to prevent it. What must I, what can I do?" - -"Alford," repeated Marion. "Do you know his Christian name?" - -"There is his card,—C. W. Alford, New York City." - -"A very indefinite address. Will you let me take it? I will make -inquiries concerning his character. I am sorry to say I was not -favorably impressed with his appearance." - -"But Juliette has a husband. Whatever his moral character may be, -she must not receive attentions from him. If the poor child has -a father living—" A burst of tears interrupted her. - -"She has a heavenly Father," urged Marion, deeply moved. "He will -never lose sight of her for a moment. His eye sees her when -no earthly eye can follow her, and His arm can protect her from harm. -Dear Mrs. Douglass, don't weep so. Let us ask His guidance." - -Seldom had the young Christian poured forth such earnest petitions -for help as now. Realizing, as she did, the impulsive passion of the -young wife, the excuses she would make to her conscience,—that her -husband had forsaken her,—the impossibility of earthly effort -to restrain her, Marion called upon God to appear for them in their -trouble, to touch the heart of the young mother, to put barriers -in her path to ruin, to fill her soul with purer joys. - -Feeling as she did at that moment, perhaps as never before, -how sheltered and protected her own life had been, how brightly the -future was opening before her own path, her tears gushed forth afresh -at the thought of the dangers threatening this beautiful, unprotected -child-wife. She prayed too that the absent husband might be brought -to a sense of his wrong-doing in forsaking her whom he had sworn -to cherish, and return to them with new purposes and new resolves. -Nor did she forget the absent father, so long unknown to those -connected with him by the closest ties. She prayed that if he were -still an inhabitant of earth, God, who knew all things, would lead -him back to them, to be their comfort and joy. - -"O Miss Howard!" cried the afflicted mother, clasping her hands, -"what a blessing that we can go to our heavenly Father and tell him -all our sorrows! I have an assurance that He will answer; that He -will in some way protect my dear, deluded child. It may be by my -death. I would willingly give up my life, could I be assured of her -safety. It may be that He will touch Arthur's heart, and bring him -home to his family. I would submit to any privation, any -inconvenience, to have him, her lawful protector, with her." - -"Or," added Marion, "He may restore to you the husband you have -so long mourned. A father would be a great blessing to Juliette now." - -"A Christian father," murmured the lady, raising her eyes to heaven. -"Every day my prayer for him is, Lord, if he is living, lead him to -Thyself." - -After a short silence, the lady added, "I thank God I can say with -truth that, since the hour my husband left me, believing I was lost -to virtue, I have always maintained the strictest reserve toward all -of the opposite sex. I was young, and often called handsome. -I believe my husband had been proud of my beauty. I could play the -piano and guitar as an accompaniment to my voice; but I only played -for my parents and most intimate friends. I have always tried -to impress upon Juliette, both by example and precept, that a wife -so unfortunately situated must be doubly guarded in her conduct. -Character is a plant which must be kept in good soil, free from -blights and mildew. It must be watched and tended with care. It is -too sacred to be trifled with." - -Mrs. Douglass wept as she talked, and Marion, desirous of soothing -her, said,— - -"Mrs. Cheriton's love for Eugene is a great preservative." - -"Yes, that is true," sighing. "Poor boy! He needs a father's -restraining hand." - -"We have asked our heavenly Father to preserve them both from all -evil, and I believe He will," rejoined the visitor, hopefully. - -God did answer the prayers so earnestly offered, but in a way -entirely unlooked for. - - - -CHAPTER III. - -WITHOUT CHRIST. - -MRS. CHERITON did not return from her walk for an hour after Marion -left. She came in looking so brilliantly beautiful that it made her -mother's heart ache. Her eyes always shone like stars, and the rich -color crimsoned her cheeks when she was excited either by joy or -anger. Eugene, too, seemed overflowing with spirits. His hands were -full of toys and sweetmeats, given him, he said, by the nice -gentleman. When he threw off his cap, his grandmother noticed that -his hair was wet with perspiration, and told her daughter he ought -not to sit in the draught; but she retorted with some indifferent -reply. Finding she could not induce the child to move, nor to give up -the colored candies he was eagerly devouring, with a sigh the -grandmother left the room. - -During the rest of the day, the young mother went about with a smile -on her lips, quite absorbed in thoughts of a pleasant nature. -Toward night her boy coughed two or three times; but she, usually so -ready to take alarm, laughed at her mother's suggestion that he must -have taken cold. - -At an early hour Mr. Alford called to accompany her to the theatre, -and poured out such a torrent of flattery at her beauty as quite -turned her head. - -Scarcely bidding her mother good by, she went gayly down the stairs, -little imagining what her return would be. - -The clock was just striking twelve when, in turning the corner of the -street, the house she called home came into view. At this hour it was -usually dark. Now the hall and her mother's room were brilliantly -lighted. Just at this moment a carriage dashed up to the door. - -"What does it mean?" she cried, in a startled voice, trying to pull -her hand from her companion's arm. - -"When can I see you again?" - -The insinuating tone was lost on her, for with a sudden fear she had -released herself and flown away. Bounding up the stairs, she stopped -one instant to gaze into the lighted room. On her mother's lap lay -Geenie, struggling for breath. Before them stood the doctor, with a -spoonful of medicine in his hand,—just brought by his servant,— -which he was vainly trying to force down the child's throat. One of -the servants was bringing through another door a foot-tub filled with -boiling water, while another was pulling the blanket from the bed. - -All this the mother took in at one glance, then sprang forward with -a loud shriek and threw herself on her knees before her boy. - -"Mamma, help Geenie! Make the bad man go away! Geenie can't breathe!" - -"It's the croup," gasped her mother, in reply to her agonized gaze -into the child's face, darkened and convulsed with this struggle for -breath. - -"It is a case of life and death," added the physician, in a solemn -voice. "If you love your brother, persuade him to take this -medicine." - -"My brother! He's my boy, my own, my precious child!" - -Her voice rose to a shriek, as she saw that his features became more -convulsed. She cried, she wrung her hands, calling continually, -"Eugene, my pet, my darling! I won't give you up! You sha'n't die!" - -"He will die, and very soon, if you do not control yourself. You must -be calm." - -Addressing one of the servants, who had just returned with the -prescription, he ordered Eugene's head to be held, while he forced -down the medicine. Then turning to Mrs. Douglass, he said, "Madam, -will you try to bring your daughter to reason? Every moment of delay -makes the boy's situation more dangerous. With the aid of the -servants, I wish to use the steam." - -He really pitied the child-mother, as he saw her fixed gaze in her -son's convulsed face; but he knew that unless vigorous measures were -used, a short time would end the struggle. Taking Eugene in his own -arms, he directed the girl to wrap the boy in the large blanket and -hold him over the boiling water. The other girl was to furnish -a fresh supply. - -Mrs. Douglass tried to persuade her daughter to leave the room; -but she would not. She sank into a chair and watched every movement -which took place. She seemed suddenly to be turned into an automaton, -only that those wondrous eyes flashed so continuously they seemed to -light up the room. - -In half an hour the medicine began to take effect, the terrible -sound, never to be forgotten, grew less harsh. The doctor, with his -coat off, worked like a hero. It was evident that the steam produced -relief in breathing. More and more heavily drooped the child's head, -his eyelids closed, the terrible heaving of his breast was more -natural. The doctor put his hand under the blanket, found the pulse, -and nodded approval. Without awakening the boy, he put a small -powder on his tongue and sat down to watch. - -Another hour passed. Mrs. Douglass had quietly retired to the next -room. Eugene slept still. He had been removed to the sofa. The doctor -still waited. The struggle for life had been so great, he did not -like to leave his patient till assured that he would have no return -of the frightful convulsions. He was a father too, and aside from his -desire as a physician to control the disease, he was interested -in the unusual circumstances of the patient. At home, he had a -daughter growing up, now in her seventeenth year, who looked more fit -to be a mother than this passionate girl, who at one moment gave free -vent to her frenzied agony, and the next controlled herself so -wonderfully that she had sat for hours scarcely daring to breathe. - -He could not comprehend, skilled as he was in controlling disease, -the torture which that poor girl was undergoing from an accusing -conscience. She saw herself at last as in a mirror,—wilful, proud -of her outward charms, undutiful to her long-suffering, -self-sacrificing mother,—her best friend,—idolizing her boy, -but blind to his faults, and not restraining her own temper that she -might teach him self-control. Then her thoughts reverted to her -absent husband, and conscience, resolved to be heard at last, -set before her a catalogue of her offences toward him,—wilful -neglect of his wishes, too evident want of affection, etc., which had -at last weaned him from her and sent him far away. "Where is he now?" -It seemed to her that this question was screamed in her ears. -"You drove him wild with your taunts and neglect." - -At length she remembered the events of the previous night. How long -ago that seemed! The whispers of flattery that had sounded -so sweetly in her ears, how she loathed them now! How she loathed -herself, that they could have pleased her! She seemed to herself -to have been suddenly snatched away from the very brink of a -precipice, and to be frantically seizing some sure support which -would prevent her from falling back into the dreadful abyss. Oh, how -dark it looked! And yet how eagerly only last night she had rushed -toward it! - -"Oh, my boy! my boy! If you die your mother is justly punished." - -Mrs. Cheriton had not lived nineteen years with her mother without -understanding that this dearest friend was of late governed by -different principles from those which controlled her in earlier life. -She acknowledged in this dark hour that when all other help had -failed, the poor widow, bearing alone her heavy burden of grief and -self-reproach, had found comfort and solace in the truths contained -in the sacred book hitherto so little prized. God was no longer -to her an angry judge, but a tender, loving father, whose heart -yearned over her. Jesus Christ was her sympathizing Saviour, who had -voluntarily come to earth, suffered poverty, temptation, and -ignominy, that he might know how to succor his children in like -sorrow. Many, many times Mrs. Douglass had endeavored to impress -these blessed teachings on her daughter; but they only seemed to her -like idle tales. Of late, since her acquaintance with Marion Howard, -she had been urged to trust in the kind care of One whose eye of love -was always watching her; but these faithful words, instead of drawing -her heart toward the friend who uttered them, had led her to treat -Marion with cold contempt. - -As is frequently the case with persons in the near prospect of death, -the events of the past life flash like lightning through the mind, so -in Juliette's agony, circumstances connected with her childhood, -youth, and brief married life rushed to her memory with a force and -vividness which well nigh overwhelmed her. As she afterward described -it, "I seemed to be living my life over again: I was wooed and won. -I tasted the purest joy of all when my child was placed in my arms. -I sinned and was punished. I went on sinning and repenting. I went -headlong into the arms of a destroyer, when a hand was stretched out -and saved me. I can never make myself believe that all this occurred -in only five hours." - -At last the physician, who had for some time been dozing in his -chair, rose quietly, and, coming toward the rigid figure, said, -encouragingly,— - -"He is sleeping quietly now. Be careful that he does not get a chill. -I will be in again at nine." - -She gazed in his face, scarcely understanding his words, looking so -bewildered that he mechanically placed his fingers on her pulse. -Her hand was like ice. - -"He, your child, is better. I am quite hopeful now. You have -controlled yourself admirably." - -"Do you mean that he will not die? That God will not punish me -by taking him away?" - -"Yes, my poor child. I mean that I hope God in mercy intends to spare -him to you. He is given to you afresh, to train up to a good and -useful life." - -What a change came over that young face, on which despair had been -stamped! The hard eyes softened, the lips quivered, the crimson tide -came rushing back, painting cheeks and brow; the whole countenance -grew luminous, as with quickened breath the child-mother clasped -her hands, exclaiming,— - -"Oh, how I will love Him! He is so good, and I have been so bad." - -Forgetful of the physician's presence, or of anything, except that -the God, whom she had not loved, had dealt with her in such infinite -mercy, she fell on her knees and buried her face in her hands. - -"Lord, help me! Save me!" she cried. "I have tried living without Thy -help. I was all but lost. Do help, dear Lord." - -These words, so different from what he expected under the -circumstances, seemed too sacred for a stranger's ears, and the kind -physician silently took his leave, wiping his eyes as he went down -the stairs, then walked quickly to his home in the gray dawn of -a new day. - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -WITH CHRIST. - -MRS. CHERITON'S trials had only begun. Eugene's croup was followed -by congestion of the lungs, the attack assuming from the first -alarming symptoms. He would not bear his mother out of his sight -for a moment. Indeed the result of her injudicious fondness showed -itself during these sad weeks in a manner which would have been -a warning to any one. Though she deprived herself of sleep, and -almost of food, in order to be always at hand to minister to his -wants, he showed no gratitude. He exacted everything as a right, and, -if there was the slightest opposition to his wishes, he screamed with -passion, often exclaiming, "I hate you. Go away, bad mamma." -He would not take medicine from her, shrieking, "You tell lies. -You told me it was good and it wasn't. I'll let Miss Howard give it -to me: she never tells lies." - -From Marion, too, he would submit to any treatment, even to the -blisters upon his chest. "It will hurt you, Geenie," she said, -"but if you don't have it on for a few minutes that dreadful pain -will come back. Be a good boy, and I will tell you a nice story about -Gypsy." - -"Will you bring Gypsy to see me?" - -"Yes, I will." - -In addition to Eugene's sickness, the doctor's services were in daily -requisition for Mrs. Douglass, who had never risen from her bed since -the night of her grandson's seizure. The agony of mind she had -suffered on account of her daughter, followed so speedily by Eugene's -dangerous illness, proved too much for a frame enfeebled by disease. -Violent pain in the head was succeeded by nervous chills, until -Dr. Danforth became alarmed for her life. - -Under these circumstances Marion proved her real friendship -by spending as much time as possible with the patient sufferer, -and thus was at hand when poor Juliette, driven to her wits' end -by the insubordination of her darling, was unable to control him. - -As the young mother had not spoken of the events of that -never-to-be-forgotten night, neither Mrs. Douglass nor Marion -could account for the entire change in her manners and appearance. -They supposed her fright at the sudden illness of her boy had for the -time driven all other thoughts from her mind. Indeed, Mrs. Douglass, -with many tears, thanked God that in his wonder-working providence -he had taken any means to prevent a career of gayety which must have -ended in her ruin. It would have been an immense relief to her could -she have known that a card with the name "C. W. Alford" had been sent -to her daughter the day following Eugene's attack, that the question -written with pencil underneath his name, "When can I see you?" -had been hastily answered with one word, "Never." - -Yes, her Father in heaven, more ready to grant our requests -than we are to ask them, had indeed answered the Christian mother's -prayers, though as yet she knew it not. - -Through all these anxious, weary days and nights, in the midst of -her duties,—and they were onerous,—Mrs. Cheriton was supported -by the thought, "God will help me: he has promised to help those -who ask him." - -In after-days she used to say, "I seemed to be living in a dream. -Whenever the thought of Mr. Alford came into my mind, or the -recollection of his vague suggestions recurred to me, I shivered, -while my cheeks burned like fire. Then the conduct of Geenie, -ungovernable and unloving, continually reminded me of another -precipice from which I had been drawn back. - -"On the other hand, I wondered at myself, at the sweet peace which -at times filled my soul. How good God has been to me! How kind, -how loving, how tender! Sometimes when Geenie slept I found time -to read a few verses in the Bible. I found verses written expressly -for me: 'Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth -them that fear him.' 'For he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that -we are dust.' I could scarcely believe that these precious words were -in God's own book. I put in a mark and read them again and again." - -But it was impossible for such a radical change to take place -in Mrs. Cheriton without the fact becoming visible to those -about her. Even before her mother noticed anything, the servants -talked about it. - -"She must believe he is going to die," one girl said to another, -"else she wouldn't speak so kindly, and thank me as she does." - -The first thing indicating a change noticed by her mother was -one morning, when the chamber-girl, having put everything in order, -had left the room, Juliette came from the adjoining chamber with -a smile on her face. Approaching the bed, she kissed her mother, -saying, softly,— - -"Geenie is asleep. If you like, I'll read to you," laying her hand -on the Bible as she spoke. - -"Thank you, dear. That would indeed be a pleasure." - -"Where shall I read? But here is your mark in St. John's Gospel." - -In a low, and, to her mother, inexpressibly sweet voice, she read -the last words of Christ to his disciples, frequently pausing -as she read, as though applying the precious words to her own case. - -Mrs. Douglass lay with her eyes fixed on the pale countenance of the -reader, wondering what made her so beautiful. The rich bloom had -gone, the dark eyes no longer flashed; but never had there been such -a serene smile wreathing the lips. It seemed to indicate an inward -peace. - -At last, Juliette, raising her eyes from the book met her mother's -gaze fixed intently on her. - -"Can I do anything more for you, dear?" she said, rising and leaning -over the bed. - -"O Juliette! If you could, if you would, pray: we need help so much." - -There was a momentary struggle in the breast of the young convert, -and then, throwing herself on her knees by the bed, she hid her face -in her hands and poured out from a thankful heart prayer for Christ's -presence, such as he had promised his disciples, and praise for the -blessed hope of acceptance and pardon. With the simplicity of a child -who has scarcely learned the language of prayer, but whose soul -is fully alive to the value of the blessings to be asked for, -she plead for wisdom equal to every emergency, grace for every trial -her Father in his love might see fit to send. She prayed for her dear -mother, so weak and suffering, for her boy, not yet out of danger, -that He who loved them better than any earthly love would do for them -according to his will. "But, oh, dear Jesus, who loves little -children," she cried, clasping her hands, "if he must die, and it is -Thy blessed will, prepare my boy, my poor, neglected child, -for heaven. Let him not suffer eternally for his mother's sinful -neglect of Thy commands." - -Then her sobs became so violent that she was obliged to rise hastily -and leave the room. - -Mrs. Douglass closed her eyes, while she murmured the inspired words, -"Lord, now let Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen -Thy salvation." - -"I asked God, and He has heard my prayers. She has learned to pray. -That was not her first prayer. O my Saviour, help me to thank Thee -as I ought." - -When Dr. Danforth made his next visit, he found Mrs. Douglass -bolstered up in bed, Hepsey, who had for a day or two supplied -Marion's place, arranging her still abundant hair. They were engaged -in animated conversation when he entered. He had become deeply -interested in the strangers, having never forgotten the scenes -of the night of his introduction to them. To no one had he ever -mentioned the young mother's prayer, the burden of which was help -for herself from some great danger, not for relief and returning -health to her child. - -"You are better," he said, cheerfully, after having counted her -pulse. - -"Yes, Doctor, I have had a restorative." - -"Wine? I wish you had taken it sooner." - -"No, Doctor. I have heard my daughter pray." The mother's face beamed -with joy. - -"What is so great a beautifier as happiness?" was the doctor's -thought. "She looks ten years younger." He spoke seriously, but with -the greatest tenderness, saying,— - -"I have heard her pray, and I think her prayers have been answered. -She has borne the trials of these sad weeks with a sweet submission -and patience I have seldom seen surpassed." - -"God has given her grace according to her day." - -"Yes. He has indeed fulfilled His promise to the widow and orphan." - -"My daughter is not a widow, Doctor," murmured the patient, her -cheeks flushing. "You have been such a kind friend, I may confide -so much of our story to you. Juliette was married at the early age -of fourteen, and her child was born within the year. Geenie was only -a few weeks old when his father left home for England, ostensibly -to obtain a situation where he might support his family in the -luxuries to which they had been accustomed. We hear from him -occasionally, but have never seen him since." - -"Unnatural monster!" cried the doctor, indignantly. He thought -of his own little girl, and wondered how she would endure such -a living trial,—she to whom the loss of a pet dog had been the -greatest grief she had known. - -It was a minute or two before he could rally sufficiently to remark, -"Eugene is better too. I am sorry to say my patient will soon be -dismissing me." - -"We have so few friends in America, we cannot give up your visits -without regret, Doctor. But it is selfish for us to keep you longer -than is necessary, when so many need you." - -"Is a physician to have no friends, then?" queried the doctor, -assuming a gruff voice. "You will find it hard, madam, to get rid -of me." Then, with an emphatic shrug of his shoulders, he went away, -and drove nearly a mile out of his course, while he was wondering -what kind of a man Mr. Cheriton could be who would forsake a wife -like Juliette. - -In another respect the young mother showed that she had taken God's -word as the rule of her life. This was in the management of her -child. Formerly, when herself provoked at his rudeness or impatient -at his exactions, she had dealt him a sudden blow, which, however, -always seemed to rouse his combativeness to such a degree that it -required much skill to soothe him. She usually had to buy him off -from the exhibition of temper by confectionery or some new toys. -Now, feeling her own weakness, she daily sought strength from God. -She had noticed, too, how easily Mr. Angus and Marion had made him -obey, not by blows or threats, but by a firm and gentle kindness, -which won his confidence. It was her aim to imitate this method. - -As soon as he was able to sit up, Eugene felt rather than understood -that his mother would no longer submit to be struck in the face -or called "bad mamma" when his wishes were crossed. She talked -to him, explained that he must obey, that Jesus Christ loved good -children, and that she would teach him to pray, and ask this best -Friend to help him be good. - -There is a sacredness in religious teachings which always arrests -the attention of a child. No stories are so much delighted in -as the stories of Joseph and Samuel and Daniel, and particularly -the story of our dear Saviour. Over and over again these stories -may be repeated; yet the little one never tires, but will ask -new questions concerning the wonderful characters. - -Juliette had thus a double incentive to read her Bible. She wished -to find in the sacred pages strength for daily duties; and she also -read for the instruction of her boy. - -Marion came in one day and found Geenie dressed in a wrapper, sitting -in his mother's lap. In her hand she held the Good Book, and they -were talking eagerly of the story she had read. Marion wrote -afterwards, in her letter to Mr. Angus, that she seldom had seen -a prettier picture,—the beauty of both so softened by the subjects -on which they were talking. - -Marion bent over and pressed her lips to the fair forehead of the -young mother, and Eugene made them laugh by imitating her example. - -"She's nicer than she was," he exclaimed, patting her cheek. -"She doesn't tell lies any more. She tells me when the medicine -is going to taste badly,—but I take it all the same." - -After talking for a few minutes with Mrs. Douglass, Marion hurried -away, saying to herself,— - -"What a glorious change! What a purifier and refiner Christianity is! -How Mr. Angus will rejoice that Juliette has accepted her Saviour!" - -Before I close this chapter I must tell the reader that Marion showed -Mr. Alford's card to Mr. Lambert the very day Mrs. Douglass had given -it to her, only asking whether he knew the man. He did not, but soon -found a man of his description was a frequenter of gambling-saloons -and other disreputable places of resort, that the name Alford was one -of several aliases, and that he was a man wholly unfit to be trusted. - -To neither Mrs. Douglass nor her daughter did she repeat this -information, the change in Juliette rendering it unnecessary. - - - -CHAPTER V. - -HOME IN THE STABLE LOFT. - -"THIS is only a stable, Miss Marion." - -"The place must be here, Hepsey: the number three hundred and sixty -is plainly marked." - -The young lady reverted to her paper again. - -"'Esther Cole, three hundred sixty.' Three hundred fifty-eight, -the last house is marked. I must inquire." - -One of the hostlers came forward to the door of the stable. - -"Do you want a carriage, lady?" - -"I am looking for a number which ought to be here." - -"Is it a tenement house you're after, ma'am?" - -"Yes, and a family by the name of Cole." - -"It's aloft their house is. Walk right through ma'am, to the ladder -beyont." - -"Thank you," replied Marion, giving him a smile which quite won him. -"How very clear your floor is! I was never in a stable before. Look, -Hepsey! See how nicely the carriages are covered; and really there is -quite a pretty parlor,—and such a row of whips hanging up." - -"That room is for ladies and gentlemen to wait while their horses are -harnessed, ma'am." The hostler was doing the honors in his best -style. They had now reached the ladder, as he called it by which they -were to ascend to the room "aloft," and he said, "It's a poor place, -ma'am, for a lady the likes of yees." - -"It's a heathenish place," retorted Hepsey "Not fit for Christians to -live in. Are you sure, young man, that the steps are safe?" - -He laughed merrily, exhibiting a row of even white teeth. - -"If it's afraid ye are, ma'am," he explained, looking at Marion, -"sure I'll bring 'em all down to yees,—every mother's son of 'em." - -"Oh, no, indeed! We will go up. Many thanks for your courtesy." - -Her face was all dimpled with smiles as she prepared to mount -the steps, while the hostler walked away, saying to himself,— - -"A rale lady that is. The man that owns her must be a happy one." - -At the top of the steps a door opened into a large room rudely -partitioned off from the hayloft and smelling strongly of the fumes -from the stable below. Seven people called this room their home,— -father, mother, grandmother, and four children of different ages -under eight years. Unlike many who live in more spacious apartments, -their hearts were larger than their home, and they had recently -welcomed a poor waif thrown upon the cold charities of the world. - -Esther Sims was an orphan who had been connected with the mission -Sunday and sewing schools in which Miss Howard was interested. -This lady had never considered her very intelligent, but she had -a pretty face, with childish features, and an appealing glance in her -deep, gray eyes which made her many friends. Marion had lost sight -of her for more than a year, and only the day before her visit to the -stable learned her sad story. - -Not being very happy in the family where one of the mission-school -teachers had placed her, she was easily persuaded to leave it for -employment in a cigar factory. There she formed the acquaintance of -a young fellow by the name of Cole, and soon after was married -to him. If she had taken to heart the instructions of her faithful -teacher, she would have distrusted the principles of a man whose -first act in connection with her was deceit. - -As they were both infants in the eye of the law, Esther being but -sixteen, and her husband to be but eighteen, the clergyman refused -to perform the ceremony unless one of the parents, was present and -wished it. Leaving her sitting on the steps to the house, he hurried -off, and soon returned with a woman who said she was his mother, and -who declared her willingness for her bye to be married. - -They were married, and young Cole took his wife home to a house where -he had lodgings, where they had many a laugh about the ease with -which he had found a mother in his emergency, he having given the -woman twenty-five cents to personate such an individual. - -Esther's character was so yielding that she got along for a few -months without much trouble. She never knew what her husband's -business was, and often wondered why it kept him so long into the -night. At last he began to abuse her, and grew so irritable that she -begged to be taken back to her old place in the cigar factory, where, -at least, she had kept herself from starving. Now young Cole had been -arrested for burglary, tried, and sentenced to prison for three -years, and Esther, innocent, ignorant even of his ever having -committed crime, was suspected of being connected with the plot. - -Even Hepsey, who tried to harden her heart against pity, having been -so often deceived, was affected by the utter abandonment to grief -of the young girl. She was sitting on a bed of straw, with a child -of her sister-in-law across her lap, her head fallen forward on her -breast, her tears falling on the sleeping babe's face, seemingly -unconscious of the presence of any one. - -"She's just gone daft with her trouble, poor thing," explained the -woman, as she saw the eyes of her visitors fastened on the -child-wife. - -It was difficult to rouse her from her grief. When addressed, -she looked up frightened, supposing officers had come to take her -to jail. Then, recognizing Miss Howard's kind face, she asked, -piteously,— - -"Will they keep me in prison long?" - -Mrs. Cole took the babe from her arms, explaining, "I thought maybe -'t would divert her thoughts," and then went on to say that Jo, her -husband's brother, had always been a bad boy. He had no business -to deceive a young girl, and get married when he had no home. -That Esther was steady and honest, and was never up to knowing -his wicked goings-on. Then she touched her head and pointed to the -poor girl in a significant manner. "As to the robbery, she's as -innocent of it as a babe unborn." - -No one could doubt it who witnessed the appealing glance in those -wondering eyes; at least Miss Howard did not, but she could not -at once decide what course to pursue to clear the child from the -suspicion of crime. Having ascertained that Mrs. Cole was willing -to keep her for a few days, Miss Howard put a sum of money into her -hands, and, promising to do what she could, took her leave. - -"She's no more guilty than I am," exclaimed Hepsey, indignantly. -"That woman thinks she isn't bright, but it's only because she's been -cowed down and abused till she darsn't say her soul is her own. -I remember her when she was as tidy and spry as the best of 'em." - -"Why, Hepsey, where did you ever see her?" - -"At the sewing school, ma'am, where I used to go in yer place while -yer was in Grantbury; and Esther Sims, as they called her then, -was the most respectful and the best behaved of the whole class." - -"Hepsey, do you think she could be trained by kindness to be a good -servant?" Marion's voice was abrupt in her earnestness. - -"Indeed I do, ma'am. To be sure, it would take time, but it would be -a deed o' mercy, and like as not be the saving of her soul." - -"Well, my dear, good Hepsey, you have helped me through a great many -difficulties. If we can get the poor child away from her -surroundings, you shall have the chance to try and save her." - -Hepsey was startled. This was rather beyond what she had thought of. -Presently she asked, abruptly,— - -"What will she do with her thief of a husband?" - -"She must be made absolutely free from him, of course. I will take -advice about it." - -"I suppose you're thinking of yer own home in the country, ma'am, and -that is where I'm to train her," added Hepsey, with a sly glance into -her young mistress's face. - -A rosy blush was the only reply. - - - -While Marion was hesitating to whom she should apply for advice -in regard to poor Esther, Mr. Mitchell came home. He assured her -that by the laws of the State the husband's incarceration in prison -rendered the wife free from the marriage tie. He also comforted her -by saying, that even if Esther were arrested, unless some one -appeared against her, the case could not be carried on. Marion, -however, with the recollection of the child's look of terror at the -very thought of being arrested, was determined to prevent it -if possible. - -Suddenly recalling to mind Mr. Lambert's promise to aid her -in her works of charity, she sent James to his house to request him -to call at his earliest convenience. - -When he came, which was almost immediately she was struck with -a change in his appearance; and inquired, anxiously,— - -"Are you ill, sir?" - -"What makes you ask that? I'm in rollicking health and spirits." - -She doubted it, however, for even while talking with her he seemed -to fall into fits of revery. - -"What a fool she was to marry so young!' he said, with a sneer; -"but, as you say, that can't be helped now. My advice is, let him go -to—anywhere that will keep him out of her way. But what is to be -done with the child?" - -"I think Hepsey means to take her," replied Marion, showing all her -dimples. "I hope she can be got off without going to court." - -"Hepsey, hem! Well, never fear. I'll see the judge and settle -that. If he won't believe my word, I'll make him go to the stable, -mount the ladder, and see for himself." - -He leaned back in his chair, laughing heartily but Marion noticed -that there was no ring of mirth in his laugh. - -Suddenly she said, "O Mr. Lambert! Are you acquainted with Mr. Regy? -I hear of him everywhere among the poor, and I long to see him." - -"Better not," he grumbled. "Take my word for it, he is -a good-for-nothing fellow. I know him well." - -"You must be prejudiced, Mr. Lambert. His heart is just as warm as -yours; indeed, in many things he must be like you: he delights to -relieve suffering and he delights to—to—what shall I call it?" - -"Call it abuse; that's the right name. He's a hard-shelled -old sinner. He tries to salve his conscience by giving away what he -don't want. Keep clear of him, as you would of the plague. Now I must -be going, or I sha'n't see that judge." - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE SIMPLE PRAYER, - -THE very next day he called again. - -"It's all right," he said. "The girl is free to go where she chooses. -Now I want to ask you a question. Where do you go to church?" - -"I attend -Church. Dr. M- is my pastor." - -"But you're not a member." - -"Oh, yes! I have been for a great many years." - -His countenance expressed real disappointment. "I could have sworn -you didn't believe in such humbug." - -"O Mr. Lambert, don't say so!" Marion'! eyes filled with tears. -She had always supposed that he was a Christian and a member -of some church. - -"I've never seen any cant about you. In fact, I took it for granted -that you were a good, common-sense girl. Why, all that nonsense -about joining a church and taking an oath that you believe such and -such doctrines has exploded long ago!" - -"Don't you believe any doctrines?" - -"I believe this: that it's the life we must look to. Why, I've seen -men,—and women too,—who swallowed the whole creed, covers and all, -stiff and straitlaced, thought it a sin to smile, but who wouldn't -give a penny to a poor man to save his soul. I'm sick of this talk -about doctrine. Give me the life,—that's what I look at." - -"But how shall we know how to live unless we study God's Word? -We have exact directions there,—and these are what I call doctrines. -I am sure you believe that Jesus Christ came to set us an example -of a perfect life." - -"I'll allow that for the sake of argument." - -"Did He ever sin?" - -"Not that I ever heard of, but I don't know much about it." - -"Can you name any other man who ever lived without sin?" - -"Perhaps not. I always said the world was up side down. But what does -that prove? I don't know what you are driving at." - -"Then the claim of Jesus Christ himself, that He was the Son of God, -in a peculiar sense,—that no man can come to the Father except -through Him,—is a claim we must acknowledge." - -"I don't know anything about that. You are taking too much -for granted." - -"Why, if any other man should claim to be divine, saying, in plain -terms, 'I and my Father are one,' he would be seized and punished -for blasphemy. It would be monstrous, presumptuous in the last -degree. The fact that Jesus Christ claimed that he was one with the -Father, the fact that he was a sinless being, and could not therefore -be such a wicked impostor, that he proved his assertion by his life, -his teachings, and his power to work miracles, is the great central -truth on which Christianity is based. If you read your Bible -prayerfully, as I earnestly hope you do, you must concede so much." - -Mr. Lambert twirled his glove, looked grave, and then said, "Well, -what of that?" - -"How do you suppose the world came to be upside down, Mr. Lambert?" - -"Can't say. Can vouch for the fact, though. Everything and everybody -is helter-skelter." - -"Including Mr. Regy, I suppose." - -"Yes; he is as bad as any of them." - -"And needs a power out of himself to put him right." - -"That's true." - -"This power we have in our blessed Saviour. He came to save us from -sin and from all its dismal consequences." - -"Well, admit that too, for the sake of argument." - -"Now, my dear friend," urged Marion, seizing his arm and gazing -wistfully in his face, "believing so much, as I am sure you do, you -have the very root and foundation of the Christian doctrine. A good -life must and will grow out of such a belief. Jesus Christ, who was -rich, became poor for our sakes. He sacrificed ease, comfort, home on -earth, and all that makes life dear. I say nothing of the glories of -heaven, the worship of myriads of holy beings, which He willingly -exchanged for disgrace, ignominy, and death. I am only speaking now -of Him in His human nature. He loved us to that extent He was -willing to do and bear all this for us, to make us happy here and -hereafter. We must acknowledge ourselves degraded indeed, if we are -not willing to do something to show our appreciation of such love. -What does He ask of us? Only that we return His love, and cherish -kindly feelings toward each other. Love God, and our neighbor as -ourselves. This is the life you so rightly urge that we must live. -It flows naturally from the doctrine. Any other motives than love to -God and to our fellows fail of power to help us live this life. - -"You see I have not said a word about the theories that man, -in different stages of the world, has built on these fundamental -truths. There always has been and always will be different ways -of explaining God's truth; but speculation is outside of fundamental -truth. Man a sinner, Christ a Saviour, is enough for me. Any man, -woman, or child, really desirous of showing his love to Christ, -can find rules in God's Word to guide him in every emergency." - -"About joining a certain church, for instance." There was -an ill-concealed sneer in Mr. Lambert's voice. - -"Yes, we have the example of companies of disciples gathering -themselves together to recount what God had done for them. -Our Saviour himself honored and showed His approbation of these -gatherings by being present with them. The most affecting of all His -dying messages to His disciples was that they should eat bread -as a symbol of his body broken, and drink wine as a symbol of His -blood shed for them. This was to be a continual reminder of what He -had done. I can say from my own experience, that this communing -with Christ in His sacrifice brings Him nearer to me not only -as a Saviour but as a friend, or elder brother, than anything else -could do." - -"I don't see any Christianity in one soul de-crying another, and -calling each other hard names." - -"I don't see any Christianity in one man stealing his neighbor's -coat, or his property of any kind. One act is as much Christian -as the other. If the disciples of Christ would only live up to the -example He set for us, one man would never decry or call his neighbor -hard names merely because they differ on non-essentials. - -"People's likes and dislikes are as wide apart as their countenances. -Because one man has blue eyes, he needn't decry a man who has black. -All that is required of him is that he shall use aright the eyes God -has given him. One man is so constituted that in his worship of God -he prefers liturgy and certain prescribed forms. This mode, which we -call Episcopalian, helps his fervor, and the very forms assist him to -keep his mind from wandering. - -"Others find these written prayers, etc., irksome and monotonous: -they like more stir and bustle; such become Methodists. God never -expected or intended that we should all be patterned in the same -mould. Social intercourse would be very tame if we were. Mr. Regy, -for instance, has his own method of relieving the poor, and I have -mine," she added, smiling. - -"Mr. Regy is an old humbug," growled Mr. Lambert. "I'm always ashamed -when I've been in his society. He's the most provoking man -I'm acquainted with." - -"And yet he is in a fair way to attain a high position: 'He that -humbleth himself shall be exalted.'" - -Mr. Lambert's face crimsoned, and he muttered some unintelligible -words. He caught up his hat and cane in a hurry, when she said, -tenderly,— - -"May I say something to you, my dear friend?" - -"Humph! That's cool! Here you've been driving into me with hammer and -tongs, and now you ask very meekly, may I say something to you?' -Well, say on; a few hits more or less won't kill me." - -"It is only this, dear sir. When we accept Jesus Christ as our own -personal Saviour, He will flood our souls with such peace and joy -as we never before conceived. His love helps us to bear trials, -to meet disappointment with true fortitude, to look forward without -fear to the time when we shall walk through the dark valley. I shall -pray daily that such love as this may fill your soul." - -His face became so convulsed while she made this personal appeal -that she was really alarmed. Putting a violent restraint on himself, -he rallied and exclaimed in a light tone,— - -"You were cut out for a theological professor I was not aware of this -accomplishment." He would not notice the hand she held out to him, -but with a gruff "Good day," left the room. - -After his departure, Marion found herself so shaken that she could -scarcely collect her thoughts. She went to her chamber, and with -tears plead for her friend. "O God, show Thy self to him in the face -of thy Son, Jesus Christ." This was the burden of her petitions. - -Fortunately for her, this was the day of the week when the foreign -mail came in. A letter from her dearest friend would restore -her spirits. While she was waiting for it, thoughts of Mr Lambert -would intrude, and she was surprised that, knowing him so intimately -as she had for some years, she was so little acquainted with his -early life. "I wish I could comfort him as daughter would. Did he -really disbelieve every thing, as he pretended?" - -She at last put on her hat and, summoning Hepsey, went to call -on Esther. She was recovering from her fright, and seemed relieved -that she was freed from a bond which had proved such a burden to her. - -"I advise her to go back to her old name again," explained Mrs. Cole. -"Esther Sims she is to be from this time." - -Miss Howard promised that Hepsey should accompany Esther to -a clothing store, where suitable outfit would be provided for her, -which she could pay for with her after-earnings. - -"Am I to go into the cigar factory?" inquired Esther, with a shudder. - -"Oh, no! You are to live with me. Hepsey has adopted you," laughing. -"I can speak for her that she will be strict, but kind." - -Esther looked up suddenly, as though she scarcely understood, but, -seeing the bright smile on Miss Howard's face, her own grew radiant -then, with a quick movement, she threw herself on her knees before -the lady, while tears of joy ran down her cheeks. - -"Poor child!" murmured Marion. "She has known so little the comfort -of a home." - -"Or having real friends to care for her," interrupted Hepsey, wiping -her own eyes. - -It was indeed a change in Esther's life, difficult for her, at least, -to comprehend. For days after she went to live with her kind friends, -she seemed to herself to be in a dream. Nothing made it seem so real -as the prayers Mr. Mitchell offered when they all gathered around the -family altar. As she told Hepsey afterward, she would go without food -rather than to lose the opportunity of being present. - -"Do you recollect a little prayer you taught us at the mission -school, Miss Howard?" - -This lady and Esther were sitting at their sewing when the child -timidly asked the question. She was gradually becoming accustomed -to kind words, losing the habit of starting, when suddenly addressed, -as though she feared a blow. - -Esther's hands trembled with eagerness as she asked the question. - -"Do you mean the prayer which begins, 'Help me, dear Lord'?" - -"Yes, ma'am." The child closed her eyes, bent her head forward just -in the old way she had been taught, and repeated the whole prayer -with a solemnity and fervor which deeply affected the hearer. - -"Help me, dear Lord, this day, to be honest, faithful, and true -toward my fellows, and above all to love Thee, blessed Saviour, -with all my heart. Help me to remember that God sees all that I do, -and hears all that I say, and that He is able to protect and guide -all those who put their trust in Him. For Jesus Christ's sake, we ask -this. Amen." - -With a half-checked sob the child went on, gradually forgetting her -timidity, and giving to her faithful teacher an insight into her -poor, lonely, repressed life which was never forgotten. - -"O Miss Howard! it frightens me to think how bad I was at the mission -school. I used to whisper and set the girls to laughing, and waste my -thread, and do so many naughty things. Miss Farnum ought to have put -me out. But if she had," sighing, "I never should have learned that -good prayer" (speaking with great awe) "and then what should I have -done when I was in such trouble? - -"I used to kneel in the corner and repeat it over and over till it -seemed like I heard Jesus' voice say, 'I will, child.' Once when -he"—she always alluded to her husband as he—"came home drunk, and -beat me, I worried 'cause I couldn't get to my corner and kneel down. -I did manage to sit up in bed and put my hands together as you told -us, and I said it over and over in my heart. I thought, maybe as He -knows all about us, He'd know how it hurt me to move, and wouldn't -mind if I did cry and moan, 'cause I couldn't help it." - -"My poor child. I am very glad you knew where to go for comfort. -Did you ever try to form a prayer for yourself?" - -"No, ma'am, not a prayer. I wasn't fit for it, you know; but when he -was swearing and threatening to kill me,—not him, but rum,—I used -to whisper, O God, pity me. Dear Jesus, take away the bad heart that -makes him treat me so. Once after I had asked God to make him good -and help me to be patient, he came and looked at me as I lay on the -straw. He wasn't drunk then, and he said, 'I'm sorry for your sake -you ever saw me, Esther.' His voice was real kind, like as though -he pitied me. When he'd gone, I told Jesus about it. Was it -naughty?" as she saw Miss Howard suddenly put her handkerchief -to her eyes, "and I loved Jesus Christ so much that I forgot all -the pain in my head and my side, so I fell asleep." - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -ESTHER'S FORGIVENESS. - -NO one but a faithful Christian worker in Christ's vineyard -can understand the encouragement such a revelation as that described -in the last chapter is to those who have been for years sowing -good seed and waiting for the harvest. - -Esther, for years a member of the mission Sunday school,—light and -frivolous, seemingly almost incapable of retaining any of the -teachings repeated Sunday after Sunday in her hearing,—had been -impressed by something in this simple prayer which the gracious -spirit of God had fixed in her memory. It seemed to have been the -"word in season," which had come back to her in her hours of deepest -need, and proved to her in truth that God was really a loving Father -watching over and pitying His sorrowing children. - -Marion related the incident which had so deeply affected her to her -friend in England adding, "I suppose I may learn from this a lesson -of trust. We have the glorious privilege of sowing the seed in the -hearts of these poor waifs. It is God's part, which He has promised -to do, to help it to sink into the light soil and spring up -to everlasting life. - -"How many times I have heard people say, 'Such work does no good. -The influences around these poor creatures are all against them. -Once in seven days they repeat the command not to swear, not to -steal, not to lie, and every hour of the other six days they hear -the vilest oaths and are witness to a breach of every other command. -If it were any truths but God's own truths, which He has promised -to bless, we might well be discouraged; but in the case of Esther, -when to human appearance all her surroundings were against her, -one little seed of divine truth sank into her heart and bore such -wonderful fruit that I take fresh courage and feel that I can labor -with fresh diligence." - -Never in all her acquaintance with Mrs. Douglass had our young friend -enjoyed her visits there as now. The lady had recovered from -her recent illness, and was able to take a short walk every day, -supported by her daughter's arm. In Mrs. Cheriton's countenance -there was an added beauty. Her eyes no longer flashed defiantly, -as of old. Her head seemed to have forgotten its fashion of throwing -itself back, as she haughtily refused any request which crossed her -own inclinations. Upon her brow there was a sweet serenity that spoke -to the observer of inward peace. - -I have already spoken of the change in her treatment of her boy. -Her resolutions made during that dreadful night were never forgotten. -Conscience, once aroused, did not slumber again. She prayed earnestly -that she might have help to command her own temper, and thus be able -to teach Geenie to conquer his. The resemblance in many of her traits -to her uncle Henreich, which has caused her mother hours of anxious -forebodings, grew less and less every day. She saw that her daughter -was making a great effort to correct her faults, and that in -her government of her son she was kind but firm. - -Formerly, as Marion went into their room, she was aware that her -entrance had interrupted some unpleasant discussion. Mrs. Douglass -would either be trembling with agitation or in tears while -Mrs. Cheriton was flushed and defiant. - -Now what a pleasing change! The two ladies sat at their work, -regarding each other with the tender affection natural to the tie -between them, while Eugene, sometimes boisterous indeed, was growing -every day more willing to yield to authority. - -One morning Marion called on her way to her pupils, who, by the way, -were making their best efforts to show her they appreciated her -self-denying efforts, as she had informed them she intended to resign -her place in the school. She met Eugene, dressed for a walk, with a -young companion from the house; and descending the stairs, found the -ladies improving the time in reading an interesting book. - -"I want you to tell Miss Howard about Geenie's prayer," remarked -Mrs. Douglass to her daughter. - -"I really hope," began Mrs. Cheriton, "that he understands what -I have told him, that God sees us, though we can't see Him. Yesterday -afternoon we were sitting here with the door open into the next room. -I heard a noise like driving a nail, but supposed he was busy with -his toys, and presently I heard his voice. We both listened and heard -him say,— - -"'God, don't look this way! Turn your eyes the other side. I'm very -naughty, God. Don't see me! Look over there! I'm SO naughty, God, -I don't want you to see.'" - -"By this time I concluded it was best for me to see what the -hammering meant. I went in and found him driving tacks into the -trunk. He made no resistance when I took away the hammer, but looked -ashamed when I said,— - -"'O Geenie! How could you do so?'" - -"You can imagine how he would have resisted once," added the boy's -grandmother. "He would have kicked and screamed and tried to bite." - -"I am thankful those days are past," murmured Marion, noticing the -mother's flush of painful recollection caused by this allusion. -"He will reward you for all the pains you take to control him." - -"He has already," exclaimed the young mother, clasping her hands -in her impulsive manner. "Geenie was never so affectionate as now. -I do believe that he never loved me so well as when I had to punish -him the other day. He hung around me, kissing me again and again. -When he saw tears in my eyes, he took his own little handkerchief -to wipe them away, saying repeatedly,— - -"'Geenie will be good all the time, mamma. Geenie won't make mamma -cry any more.'" - -Marion was sometimes very curious to know whether, with the many -obvious changes in Mrs Cheriton's character, her feelings of aversion -to her husband remained. She was well aware that many of the former -disagreements with the mother arose from the fact that Mrs. Douglass -urged Juliette to write kindly to her husband, from whom they had -heard within a few months. To be sure, he had not sent them any -intelligence, but in a newspaper accidentally falling under their -notice, they had seen his name and knew he was then in New Orleans. -If there was any return of affection on the wife's part, no one knew -it, for on this subject she maintained the most rigid reserve. - -Indeed, Mrs. Cheriton could never be called a frank person. It was -only under the influence of very strong emotion that she gave -utterance to her deepest feelings. From the first, Marion had noticed -this trait, and wondered at it in one so young. - -With another child-wife it was exactly the reverse. To her earliest -friends—Miss Howard and Hepsey—Esther laid bare all that was -in her childish and grateful heart. - -Marion often came upon her, singing in a low musical voice, a refrain -from the hymn sung at family prayers, and when spoken to she had -a way of looking up with her large, deep-set eyes, and smiling, -as she said softly,— - -"I'm so happy, ma'am. Everybody is so kind to me." And this was while -the great ridges on her slender body, caused by her husband's brutal -beatings, were still unhealed. In regard to this husband she did not -hesitate to speak, though at first with tears. - -"Would it be wicked, ma'am, to let him think I belong to him now?" - -She asked this one morning when she was braiding her young mistress's -abundant tresses and could keep her own face concealed. - -"What do you mean?" Marion was startled and spoke in a sharp voice. - -"I mean, ma'am, he's shut up now and can't get rum; and he was kind, -once; and wouldn't he feel better if he knew that I cared for him -a little?" - -"You said you did not care for him; that you never wanted to see him -again. Would you go back to him? Would you submit to his ill -treatment, his profanity and abuse?" - -Esther was silent, and glancing in the mirror, her mistress saw that -her eyes were full of tears. At last she said, in a tone of deep -sorrow,— - -"I'm sorry God heard me say that. I was angry at the bad rum, and -I was afraid of being shut up in a cell with him. I—I asked Jesus -to put my naughty feelings away. I—I found the place in your -prayer-book, ma'am,—I mean the marrying place. It's solemn words, -ma'am; I didn't know that marrying was such a solemn thing. I was too -young, and I had no mother, and my mates thought it would be fun -to be married, and I didn't remember that I should have to stay -married whether I liked it or not and so when he praised me and said -he loved me best of all the girls in our court, though they all -wanted him, I said I'd go to the parson. I had no call, ma'am, to let -him say that bad woman was my mother. She was old Nan, the worst -woman among them all, but that is over now. I'd die before I'd do -so naughty again, but, ma'am, the minister asked me those solemn -words, and I said yes, so I've been thinking that," sighing heavily, -"'for better for worse, till death us do part,' means that I do -belong to him, ma'am and so I—" Her voice was stopped suddenly for -she fell on her knees, and with her head hidden in her arms, sobbed -without restraint. - -Marion's own tears flowed. As she told the story afterward -to Mrs. Mitchell and Hepsey, "When I saw her in a perfect abandonment -of grief, sobbing her heart out at the recollection of the man -who had so abused his trust, I resolved that, if the law could -prevent it, she never should live with him again. But at the same -moment I felt for her such an increase of respect that folded her -in my arms and kissed her." - -A few days after this Miss Howard was dressing to go out when Esther -came forward, blushing painfully, and holding out an awkwardly folded -paper, asked,— - -"May I go out, ma'am, to put this into the box at the corner?" - -The lady took the letter and glanced her eye over the address, -"Joseph Cole, Sing-Sing Prison, Auburn, New York State." The writing -was scarcely intelligible, but Marion was not thinking of that. -She could not endure the thought that Esther in her childish trust -might bind herself irrevocably to his future. - -"His sister told me how to write that," murmured Esther, in a -hesitating tone. "'T isn't my place, ma'am, to ask you to give your -time to it; but if you'll please to read it, and say I may send it -to him, I shall be very happy." - -This was what Marion wished to do. She seated herself instantly and -unfolded the paper, not yet sealed, Esther meanwhile ruffling the -edge of her apron as though her life depended on her doing it -quickly. - -Marion had never perused a letter in which all the rules of grammar -and spelling were so wholly set at defiance; but seldom had she read -one which touched her heart more. It was very brief, but to the -point, and correcting the spelling, read as follows:— - -Dear Jo,— - -It's a good while now since you and me see each other. -I thought, maybe, you'd like to know that a dear, kind lady, as used -to teach me in the Mission, is giving me a home. I'm happy, or I -would be if I could forget where you are. I'm learning to pray, Jo; -and when I say my prayers I never forget that God can look right into -your cell and see you, though I can't; so I tell him all about you, -and ask him to make this the best time in your life, as it may be if -you will learn to love Him. You are not yet twenty years old, and -when you come out of prison you will be young enough to begin life -again. This is what I am praying for you all the time. - -Your little wife, ESTHER. - -"If she had left out the words 'your little wife,'" said Marion -to herself, "I would not have objected to her writing him for once." -Then glancing up, she saw Esther's eyes fixed upon her with a -mournfully earnest expression, and without another word went to her -desk, took out an envelope, enclosed the letter in it, copied the -address, and let it go. Afterward she confessed, "I believe at that -moment I felt far more unforgiving toward the prisoner than the -innocent victim of his brutality did." - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS. - -ALL this time the building committee in Grantbury were pressing on -the work most vigorously. The edifice was unlike any other in the -town. It was of Gothic architecture. The walls were, as I have -mentioned of native stone, the windows high, narrow, with stained -glass. "They will have a cross on the spire," said one, "I'm sure -of it, and I'll tell you what it will end in, they'll all go -to Rome together." - -The work proceeded so well, notwithstanding these prophecies, that it -was hoped it would be ready for occupation by Christmas. Mr. Angus's -taste was consulted during the entire progress. - -The plan had been copied and sent to him for approval. All the -committee agreed that some suggestions made by him were a great -improvement on the original plan. In his last letter he had told them -he expected to sail for home the 17th of September, and this the -committee said would be in time to decide about frescoing and other -interior decorations. No member of the parish, outside of -Mr. Asbury's family, was aware that a new tie had been formed which -would strengthen his affection to the country and home of his -adoption. A few persons knew that a cellar was being dug on a -house-lot not two hundred feet from the new church, but these few -supposed Mr. Asbury was going to erect a house to rent, as he was -often seen directing the workmen. The fact was that "our church," -with its rafters exposed to view, its spire towering every day nearer -to heaven, its ample porch of solid stone, absorbed all the interest -of the congregation. - -Every week a letter came to the church or the Sunday school in which -the pastor spoke most hopefully of what they might together -accomplish for the cause of Christ. He told them what he had seen -in England and Scotland, among congregations he had visited, -of united effort. He reminded them, that if they so labored and -prayed, God would surely add His blessing, until there was not one in -the limits of the town who did not love Christ and try to serve Him. - -To the Sunday-school children he wrote of schools in London and -Edinburgh, where all were wide awake with interest to gather in the -poor waifs who knew nothing of Jesus except His name, which they -heard mingled with the most dreadful oaths. He spoke of the reward -these workers received in their own hearts, and urged them to follow -so worthy an example. He mentioned at the close of this letter that -he had subscribed for one of the best English Sunday-school papers, -and offered it for a reward to the child who would bring into their -own Sunday school the greatest number of scholars. These must be from -families not connected with any other church. - -For the first time in her life dear little Ethel had a secret, and it -was her own Marion who told her of it. - -By and by, when the new house was done, she knew that her dear -Mr. Angus would bring Marion from the city and go there to live. -She knew that a beautiful conservatory was to be built on the south -side of the new house, and that Marion's flowers and birds would be -brought there. She knew that Hepsey and Esther and James would all be -in the pretty home at the new Ingleside, and that she could go to see -them as often as she pleased. She knew why it was that Marion came -from New York so often, and why papa spent so much time talking with -her about some large charts spread out on the dining-room table, -about an oriel window here, and a balcony there, and why they always -waited till she was in bed before they walked over to the spot where -the new house was being built. - -One thing more connected with this wonderful secret she had been told -later, and this came near letting the whole thing out, which would -indeed have set the congregation connected with the First Church into -a blaze of excitement. Marion had promised that on a certain -occasion, not very far distant, she should go to New York with her -papa and mamma and Annie and Gardner, and stand up with Marion -as bridesmaid, while she promised to love Mr. Angus and take good can -of him as long as she lived. - -It was something to be remembered, the wonder and delight of the -child as she came to understand all this. Her eyes grew darker, and -her whole face radiant, as she glanced slowly from one to another, -and her mamma added,— - -"Yes, darling, cousin Marion is going to live in Grantbury and be -Mr. Angus's wife." - -"And I'll be his wife, too," she exclaimed, with a little hop of -delight. "I'll promise to love him and take care of him. He can be -the broom to both of us." - -"The broom!" - -"Yes, mamma, you said that she would be the bride and he the broom." - -"Groom, you mean, you precious pet," said Marion, catching the child -in her arms and hiding her burning cheeks in Ethel's neck. - -Mamma thought this too good to keep from papa, and even threatened -Marion that she would acquaint Mr. Angus with the double honor -that awaited him; but the young lady's entreaties prevailed, and the -letter went off without the joke. - -The rise of ground on which the new church was being built was in a -part of the town not yet much occupied by families. The road from the -old church, school-house, etc., to the depot wound gracefully around -the foot of the hill, and had been widened and improved within a -short time. It was about one quarter of a mile to the railroad -station, and an equal distance from the village, which had grown up -in what was once the centre. Prior to the existence of the railroad, -it was Mr. Asbury's most profitable grass land, and he now owned as -far as the depot on one side, and quite down to Shawsheen Lake on the -other. The elevated situation of the land, together with the -picturesque views it commanded, rendered it peculiarly eligible -for building lots. Speculators from the city had already made -favorable offers to the owner for the whole field, but, with the -exception of one hundred feet front by one hundred and fifty deep, -donated to the church, and a house-lot nearly four times the size, -next adjoining, Mr. Asbury refused to sell. - -Mr. Angus's letters to Marion kept her informed of his visits -to London, Edinburgh, and Glasgow, where he was studying into the -best-approved methods of church work in reference to his own labors -among his chosen people. He told her of sewing schools, not only for -children, but for mothers, where they were taught to cut and make -garments for boys and girls, given simple recipes for cooking, and -taught in general how to make home happy. He narrated cases where, -in consequence of these teachings, the husband had been won from the -alehouse to the pleasures of his own fireside, where the savory soups -the wives had learned to make had weaned them from liquor: and made -them into peace-abiding citizens. - -He wrote of libraries and reading-rooms established for the poor, and -also of societies for social pleasures, amusement, etc., to which all -were invited to contribute their share. - -"I accompanied a friend," he wrote, "to one of these gatherings, -which reminded me of a description Annie Asbury gave me of one of -yours. The ball accommodated about five hundred, and was as full -as was comfortable. Fathers and mothers, and not a few grandparents, -were there, with youth not under fourteen. Entertainments for the -little ones are provided on separate occasions. I cannot describe -to you vividly enough the inspiration I derived from the scene,— -the smiling faces, the merry voices, the ring of real, healthy -enjoyment of the whole company. Surely I thought, to provide -healthful and innocent amusement for young and old is an important -part of church work. To stand still a moment and listen to the hum -and buzz of cheerful voices, with now and then a burst of laughter, -sent a glow of kindly interest for every one present through my whole -being. - -"There were games and puzzles and comic readings with an occasional -tragedy, and singing from boys in chorus, and boys or girls in solos, -and a couple of street boys with bagpipes, until the allotted hour -to close arrived. Then I as a stranger from the far-off America, -was requested to make a brief address and close with prayer. When the -bell calling to order was rung, I was surprised to see how quickly -every one found a seat, waiting to hear what was said. - -"I had just commenced to tell them about my home across the water, -when a small hand near me was raised, and a boy asked timidly,— - -"'Tell us about the bears and Indians, mister.'" - -"I had some difficulty in convincing them that in the United States -we had cities and towns, as they had, and that our bears were kept -in cages or pits, as theirs were. I told them I was very glad to be -with them when they were having such a merry time; and that I wanted -to join my thanks with theirs to the kind Christian ladies and -gentlemen who had provided such an entertainment for us. - -"To the loving Father who watches over us all, to the sympathizing -Saviour who endured temptation and want that He might know how to -help us, to the gracious Spirit, who is ready to lead us into every -good way, I then committed them, and we separated. - -"I forgot to tell you that I was persuaded in the course of the -evening to sing a comic song, which I learned while in New York. -Of course this 'brought down the house.' How would my dear little -Ethel have looked could she have seen me?" - -In another letter he said:— - -"I have conversed with many clergymen and other Christians of ripe -experience on this same subject of amusement. All classes of persons, -with rare exception of peculiar individuals, agree that some -relaxation is necessary to a healthful state of body and mind. If no -innocent and proper amusements are provided, young and old, rich and -poor, will seek entertainments for themselves, and too often these -will be the lowest class of theatres, shows, etc. - -"Let Christian parents and teachers make it a part of the business -of education to provide suitably for this want of our nature, and -these objectionable, immoral places would have to be closed for want -of patronage. In the neighborhood of the church where was the -entertainment I have described, a low theatre of the worst -description had been abandoned, simply because the ground was -occupied in a worthier way. I am looking forward to inaugurating -some plan of this kind, and I confidently expect help from a merry -girl from whom I purchased my first pair of gloves in Grantbury." - -[Illustration: SHE WAS FINISHING A LETTER TO SEND BY THE STEAMER, -WHEN DR. ROSS WAS ANNOUNCED. Page 349] - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -TRUE FRIENDSHIP. - -IT was a sultry August day. Most of Miss Howard's acquaintances -were out of the city. She had just returned from Grantbury, and was -finishing a letter to send by the steamer, when Dr. Ross was -announced. - -"One minute, Doctor," pleaded Marion, sealing her letter and ringing -for James to take it to the post; "now I will have a glass -of lemonade for you in a trice." - -"I met Hepsey," he said, "or I should not have known you were -at home." - -"Your call is very opportune, sir," said Marion smiling, as she -added, "I want to ask about Annie Leman. Is she as good a teacher -as you expected?" - -"Next to yourself, Miss Howard," bowing formally, "I do not know -her equal." - -"Then you will add your influence to mine to secure for her -the position I am about to resign in Mrs. La Vergne's school?" - -"With great pleasure, if you will promise for Miss Leman that she -will still teach my daughters. But why do you resign?" - -Marion had more than once asked herself whether she were treating -her father's old friend with sufficient frankness in not telling him -of her engagement to Mr. Angus; and now his question gave her the -opportunity to do so; so with rosy cheeks she said,— - -"I'm going to leave the city before long." - -"Not permanently, I hope?" - -"I am going to be married, Doctor." - -"Wh-e-e-w-w!" - -Marion laughed till all her dimples came into view. - -"To whom, in the name of wonder?" - -"To a clergyman, a country parson." - -"Just like you. I might have known no other man would have dared -aspire. Well, tell me all about it. You'll ask me to the wedding, -of course. Is he presentable, in person, I mean?" - -"You shall have a chance to judge for yourself, Doctor. I will tell -you one thing about him. He has recently declined a call to a large -church in London, with a generous salary, preferring to remain with -his country flock; and when they offered to make the support received -from them equal to the other rather than to lose him, he declined -that, too, insisting that there would be so many calls for money -in connection with church work that he preferred they would give that -way." - -The Doctor laughed. "I see he has found out the method to gain your -confidence. Where is the parish? I shall expect an invitation -to visit you and hear your parson preach." - -"When I have a home of my own, Doctor, you will always be welcome." - -"Thank you. You are a good girl; and if you can say my old friend, -Dexter Howard, would approve this new arrangement, I must give my -consent. I wish you weren't going out of the city, though. What will -all your poor people do? By the way, I'm forgetting in my -astonishment at the news what I came for. Did you know Mr. Lambert -was sick, confined to his room?" - -"I'm very sorry to hear it." - -"That isn't the worst of it. He charges you with being the cause." - -"Charges me? What have I done? I have not even seen him for weeks, -and supposed him out of the city." - -"He has been in bed. He is hollow-eyed and nervous to a degree— -that is not particularly agreeable to his household, I imagine. -I can't make out whether the man is out of his mind, or what is the -matter with him. When he had berated you as much as I thought -prudent, I apologized in your name; was sure you had no intention, -and so forth; but he only grumbled the worse. He was sure you did -mean it; and if you saw him you would do it again. I couldn't make -out what you had done, except that he said you had hurt -his feelings." - -"Oh, I know now!" exclaimed Marion, with a breath of relief. "I'm so -glad, so very glad!" - -"Glad? He said you would be, but I indignantly denied it." - -"May I go and see him, Doctor? Please let me." - -"I don't believe he would admit you." - -"Yes, he would. I must go, dear Doctor. So you may as well say yes." - -The physician looked her keenly in the face, as though considering, -when she interrupted him by a burst of feeling, eyes moist, lips -tremulous, as she exclaimed,— - -"I'm so glad! It's just what I've been praying for." - -"Hem! Well, I hope you'll continue to be glad when you see him." - -"Oh, Doctor, you've lived in New York a long time. Do you know -anything about his early history?" - -A shake of the head was the only answer at first, then, after a -pause, "He is a native of this city, I think; and, by the way, one of -his most fidgety crotchets now is about making a will. Shall he make -a will? If he does, who shall he leave his money to? Is there a boy -by the name of Carter? Neddy Carter?" - -"Yes, his feet were crushed and had to be amputated. Mr. Lambert has -been a generous friend to him, but the boy knows him only by the name -of Regy." - -"Whew! you don't say that the eccentric individual known as Regy is -Mr. Lambert in disguise. Why, the manner in which the man abused him -this very morning was a caution." - -"I feel quite sure they are the same," replied Marion, laughing. - -Tho doctor lay back his head in perfect amazement. At last he said, -"Lambert and old Regy the same. It's the richest joke of the season. -What can be his motive? Did you ever hear of an adventure in Richmond -in which he figures prominently? - -"No, sir." - -"He was passing a few days there, when one morning early he signalled -to an omnibus to stop. Two or three vehicles were in the way, so that -when the driver was able to draw up toward the curbstone Regy stood -back twenty feet or so. He came on growling and stood outside, -berating the driver for not attending more promptly to his signal. - -"I'll have you dismissed, you rascal,' he shouted, his arm upraised, -when he happened to notice the driver's face. It was drawn with pain. -Regy jumped up on the box without another word, learned that the -driver's wife lay dying at home, dismissed him at once, and drove the -omnibus himself all day. Then he found the house where the driver -lived. The wife was dead and the children mourning over her cold -body. Regy went to the office, got the driver off for a week, -paid the funeral expenses, and then secured a place for the man on a -farm, his oldest daughter keeping house. - -"Those were exactly the facts, as I was told them by a gentleman -from Richmond." - -"It was just like him," said Marion, with a merry laugh. "I wonder -what his motive is for disguising his real nature. Now, Doctor, warm -as it is, I must go to see him." - -It was, however, with a quickened beat of the pulse that, after her -ring at the door-bell, she awaited admittance to the spacious, -old fashioned house. - -The servant was a man who had been in Mr. Lambert's employ for many -years. He recognized Miss Howard, but was doubtful whether his master -would see any one. - -"Tell him I have just heard of his sickness and am very anxious -to see him. Stay, wait a minute!" she cried, with a sudden resolve, -"say that I want to tell him a piece of news personal to myself." - -Even when she sat in the parlor she heard the loud growling of the -master as the servant announced a guest. - -It was several minutes before the man came back, with a troubled -countenance, to say that Mr. Lambert would see her. "I told him he'd -better not," he explained, "and that set him that he would. -He's very, very bad to-day, miss; perhaps you'd better say nothing -to cross him. I'll be close at hand if you want me." - -For one instant her courage failed, then with an earnest lifting up -of her heart to God for help she ascended the stairs and passed into -the room. - -Mr. Lambert had often surprised her with his eccentricities, -but never so much as now. He was lying dressed in a suit of -white duck, on a luxurious lounge, his face almost as colorless -as his dress, and altogether so changed that she felt a disposition -to scream. He held out his hand, saying in a most polished manner, -"You must excuse me, my friend, for not rising. I am quite reduced -by illness." - -Trying not to show her surprise, Marion cordially seized his hand and -drew a chair close to his side. - -"I'm so sorry I didn't know it before; I'm a very good nurse, and you -must let me try my skill on you." - -His chin began to twitch with his efforts at self-control, so she -added at once, hoping to change the current of his thoughts, -"We've been such good friends that I know you will be glad to hear -some news about me from myself. I'm going to change my name soon." -Her cheeks, dyed with blushes, explained her meaning. - -"Is it to that bow-legged donkey you've pledged yourself," -he shouted, starting from his pillow. "If it is, I protest!" - -"No, indeed, it is not he," she laughed, understanding to whom -he referred, as he had warned her against him. "My friend is a -clergyman, a real, working Christian. I must tell you how I first met -him." - -She related the incident of selling him the gloves, at which he -laughed heartily, and when she went on to tell what Mr. Angus wished -to do for his people, he caught her hand and gave it a hearty shake, -saying, "He's the kind. I'll consent to that." - -"You must treat me as you would a daughter," she said, putting her -hand on his forehead, "and tell me when you're tired of hearing me -talk. Don't you like to hear reading?" - -"Sing," he said, "sing something lively." - -She sang several secular songs, and then one beginning, - -"Jesus, Thou art all compassion," - -which brought the tears to his eyes. - -"Another," he said, briefly, when her voice ceased. - -"Yes, Mr. Lambert, I'll sing a favorite hymn, which I am sure you -will like. - -"'Lord, lead the way the Saviour went -By lane and cell obscure, -And let love's treasures still be spent, -Like His, upon the poor. -Like Him through scenes of deep distress, -Who bore the world's sad weight, -We, in their crowded loneliness, -Would seek the desolate. - -"'For Thou hast placed us side by side -In this wide world of ill, -And that Thy followers may be tried, -The poor are with us still. -Mean are all offerings we can make, -But Thou hast taught us, Lord, -If given for the Saviour's sake, -They lose not their reward.'" - -When she sang the last lines he suddenly covered his face, but while -she was hesitating how to begin a conversation on another subject, -he exclaimed, irritably,— - -"It's no use trying to make one's self believe what he knows can't -be true." - -"I am sure of that, dear friend." - -"You, sure? Then how am I to blame for not believing?" - -"Suppose I was stricken down with want. I was dying of hunger. -Just before me there is abundant supply of food, but I can't raise -myself to get it; my weakness has rendered me powerless. You come in, -and seeing my condition, point to the food. I can't see it, or I -can't reach it. 'Try,' you say. I try, but fall back. 'Ask me, -and I'll give it to you.' You kindly urge this upon me, but I refuse. -'No, I don't believe it's for me. That food is for somebody else'; -and so I lie there and die for want of the food, stubbornly resisting -every motive you urge—that it is free to all, the only condition -being that I ask for it. - -"That is a very weak illustration of what we, as sinners before God, -do continually. Christ has provided an abundant feast; we are -starving for want of that very food. He graciously invites us, -'Come without money and without price,' but we persist in saying, -'I know it can't be true, That food looks inviting, but it is not -for me.' Now comes in the gracious Spirit, with His soft, pleading -voice. He repeats Christ's words, 'I came not to call the righteous, -but sinners.' 'To Him give all the prophets witness, that through -His name whosoever believeth on Him shall receive remission of sins,' -—shall be welcomed to the feast; and by it be restored to life." - -One hand covered Mr. Lambert's face, and through the fingers Marion -saw the tears trickling down. - -"I'm tired, perhaps you've stayed long enough," he said softly. - -She rose at once, gazed in his face, longing to comfort him. - -"Stop a minute. Pray for a poor old sinner, who has never before had -a daughter to comfort him." - -Her breath almost stopped. "Can I pray before him?" But before -he noticed her hesitation she was on her knees at his side. Like a -little child, running to his father whose arms were outstretched -to fold her in his embrace, so she ran to her Heavenly Father, and -told Him all her desires for this dear friend. She asked the Saviour -to reveal Himself to the poor, desolate heart, wearied with carrying -its burden alone. She pleaded with the gracious, waiting Spirit -to help him open his heart to this dearest and truest of friends; -that the Holy Spirit would take of the things of Christ, and show -them unto him; that, like the man dying of hunger, he might ask -for the food from the abundant supply before him, and be filled. - -Poor Mr. Lambert! He wholly lost control, and, before she rose from -prayer, sobbed without restraint. As she took his hand to wish him -good by, he looked up into her face with such a pitiful expression -that it almost overcame her. - -"Oh," she exclaimed, "do trust Him! He is waiting for you to say, -'Lord, I believe!'" - - - -CHAPTER X. - -NEDDY CARTER'S MISSION. - -WHEN Neddy Carter was carried from the hospital, he was at once -admitted to one of the mission schools; but he begged so hard that -he might still make his home with his mother that he was permitted -to do so. He said nothing of his motives in preferring a bed on a -pile of straw to a comfortable cot in the mission house, but he had -a strong motive, which soon began to appear. - -Unassisted and even unknown to his best friends, he gathered a few -little ones in his mother's garret, and then repeated to them the -instructions he had gained. Perhaps his pleasant blue eyes, gazing so -frankly into theirs, had made him a favorite before; or it might be -that the sight of him, wheeling about in his chair, enduring so -bravely the great trial that had come upon him gave him influence -over his companions. At any rate, he had influence and he used it -to win them to better paths. - -Miss Howard learned something of this, and was so rejoiced at it that -she resolved to visit him in his home. She had never been there since -the day of Neddy's accident, when, with Hepsey's help, she had had -him conveyed in the ambulance to the hospital. - -This visit occurred on the Sunday afternoon following her call on -Mr. Lambert, described in the last chapter. It so delighted her that -she longed for Mr. Lambert to know how the boy he had befriended -was using his influence for Christ. - -On Thursday of the following week she called upon the sick man, and -found he was out for a drive. Sitting in his room, she wrote him -a hurried note, asking him to accompany her to see a mutual friend -on Sunday afternoon, enclosing in the note a piece of poetry she had -selected for him. She left the whole with the servant, requesting -an answer to be sent to her house. - -Let us look upon Mr. Lambert as he enters his chamber, leaning upon -the arm of his valet. The note has been placed in plain view from his -lounging chair, and he notices it as soon as he has taken his seat. - -"Who sent that?" he asks. - -The tone is much softer than when Marion called last. Perhaps his -sickness has weakened him. - -"Miss Howard called, sir, and finding you out, wrote her errand." - -"Glad I was away." Even while uttering the words he felt that -they were untrue. - -He took the note in his hands,—thin, bony hands, showing his -sickness. "Get me some gruel," he said, "I'm tired, and shall try -to sleep." - -"Shall I say you cannot see any one?" - -"How many times must I repeat that I see no one but the doctor?" - -[Illustration: "WHO SENT THAT?" HE ASKS. Page 366] - -"There is an answer required to the note." - -As soon as he was alone he tore open the envelope, took out the -half-sheet on which Marion had copied a beautiful extract from -Schiller, laid it without reading on his knee, and then, slowly -adjusting his glasses on his forehead, began to read. - -"After all," he said to himself, "I needn't have dreaded it so much. -I was unnecessarily alarmed. I thought she meant to bring another -sledgehammer to bear on my conscience. Yes, I'll go and see our -mutual friend. I wonder who it is." - -He took up the other paper and read,— - -Dear Friend,— - -I came across these "words of strength" from our -favorite Schiller's poems, and thought of you while reading them. -That they may prove real words of strength to you is the earnest -prayer of an attached friend. - -MARION HOWARD. - -"There are three lessons I would write, -Three words as with a burning pen, -In tracings of eternal light, -Upon the hearts of men. - -"Have hope. Though clouds environ now, -And gladness hides her face in scorn, -Put thou the shadow from thy brow, -No night but hath its morn. - -"Have faith. Where'er thy bark is driven— -The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth— -Know this: God rules the hosts of heaven, -The inhabitants of earth. - -"Have love. Not love alone for one, -But man as man thy brother call, -And scatter, like the circling sun, -Thy charities on all. - -"Thus 'grave these lessons on thy soul, -Hope, Faith, and Love; and thou shalt find -Strength when life's surges rudest roll, -Light when thou else were blind." - -Notwithstanding the twisted and gnarled branches of this old oak, -there was a time, years back, when it was a straight and vigorous -young sapling. It was beautiful to behold, and gave promise -of becoming a lofty, stalwart tree, under which many might find -refreshing shelter. On this thrifty sapling grew an ugly wart, -called by some horticulturists jealousy. At first it might have been -removed without injury to the tree, but it was not. It grew and grew, -diffusing it: poison through all the cellular tissues, until it -became deformed, disfigured, and unsightly. - -Strange, but true, this process of degeneration had been going on -in the character of Mr. Lambert, until, at the time we first knew -him, there was only one trait left of his original nature. This was -a peculiar, unquenchable tenderness of feeling toward the poor and -distressed. Suspicious as he had become of all around him, -ever toward the very ones he was trying to save from their own -thriftlessness or crime, this one trail urged him on to give relief; -and in this way kept alive one of the healthiest avenues to real -goodness, even though his charities were often accompanied by -a torrent of reproach. - -It was this trait, so congenial to Marion Howard, which drew her -to him and led her to suppose he was actuated by love to his -Divine Master. In this she was mistaken. In his inmost soul -Mr. Lambert accused God of having dealt hardly with him, more hardly -than he deserved. He had been wounded in the house of his friends. -When his heart had been most vulnerable, there it had been pierced. -He had never forgiven nor forgotten the blow. Sometimes, when the -recollection of all he had been made to suffer came upon him, -he hated himself that he did not revenge himself on all mankind. -"I owe no man anything," was one of his favorite mottoes; but after -he became acquainted with Marion Howard he did not take much comfort -from it. How closely after their first meeting he had watched her! -How he longed to find her halting! But no, her motions were too -transparent. She had genuine love to God as her Father, to Christ -as her Saviour, and it was from this love her kindness to all around -her sprang. This he had been forced to acknowledge when analyzing -her character. It unsettled him and made him more irritable. -Sometimes, when he found himself softened under her influence, -he would recall all the injuries heaped on him,—injuries that -had blasted his happiness forever. - -In his early days he had been a ripe scholar, a graduate from one -of our best colleges. He had read on many subjects, and among others -on the subject of Christianity. He had read in the Old and New -Testaments, but his heart remained cold in the midst of sacred fire. - -At times in his life he had taken pleasure in railing and ranting -against everything sacred. In connection with the holiest Bible -teachings he had used the words "bigotry" and "humbuggery" and -"cant," till he almost convinced himself that what he said was true. -Almost, but not quite. There was still a spark of truth left in him, -if only it could be ignited. He had been thinking of these questions -when he called on Marion and asked whether she believed in churches, -dogmas, etc. Her words, the earnestness, the assurance she expressed -that the Gospel of Christ was indeed good news to men, that in order -to live a good life we must believe on Him and follow His example, -came home to his heart. He could not shake off the fear that he had -been mistaken. He lost his sleep, and at last became so nervous and -unsettled, so irritable and unmanageable, that his valet insisted -he should summon a physician. - -This was his state when Marion came to his bedside. After she left -he called for pen and ink, and wrote out, as well as he could recall -it, every word of her prayer. This he put in his pocketbook and read -over many times in a day, never without tears. The gracious -Spirit of God was near, watching, waiting to be gracious. - -How many times in the course of the few days following he put -Marion's character to the severest test! He applied the touchstones -of love, charity, and good-will, and found she answered to them all. -Yes, her life was a good one, even judged from his standpoint. -She did not act from a desire for the praise of men, but from -a genuine love to Christ, and a desire, in her humble manner, to do -good to those around her. Her note found his heart more tender than -it had been for years, more amenable to good influences. He was not -likely to refuse any request she might make, even to the half of his -kingdom. He sent her word that he would be ready to accompany her -at the time appointed. - -On Sunday morning the weather was so extremely sultry that Marion -doubted the expediency of taking an invalid to a hot, unventilated -attic where the air must necessarily be vitiated. Indeed, she was -herself oppressed with such debility and general lassitude -as disinclined her for any exertion. But Sunday was one of her -busiest days. She had a Bible class in the morning with her own -servants and those living with Mrs Mitchell, church at eleven, and -her mission school in the afternoon, to which she usually devoted -two hours. Then church in the evening. Mr and Mrs. Mitchell being -in the country, she felt that the Bible class was more than ever -important to their servants. - -It had been her intention to call for Mr. Lambert in her carriage -on her way home after the mission school, but, considering the -intense heat had just resolved to postpone her visit to Neddy Carter -till another Sunday, when she heard the welcome sound of distant -thunder. - -Before it was time to start for church, the heavy shower had cleared -the air and revived her drooping energies. - -Neddy Carter's home was only a few blocks from the Five Points -mission. Miss Howard's carriage was no novel sight in that vicinity, -but, notwithstanding, a group of boys and girls gathered around, -gazing with open mouths as the old gentleman alighted—and followed -the lady slowly up the steps. - -Nothing could have happened more favorably for her project. The room -was full, as not only the little ones, but their fathers and mothers, -drawn to the room by the singing, had crowded in, filling up even -the open door. From an adjoining tenement Miss Howard procured -a chair for Mr. Lambert, which she placed in the passage, and -an unpainted stool for herself. An opening hymn had been sung, -and then the children united in repeating with the young teacher -the Lord's Prayer. - -Peeping through a space formed by a man's uplifted arm, Mr. Lambert -could see the crippled boy seated in his wheeled chair, in front of -group of wondering children. His back was toward the door, but the -spectator could easily imagine the expression of fervor there would -be in his soft brown eyes, the sweet serenity of the brow as he -talked to them on the subjects he held most dear. - -"You said I might tell about Jesus being born in a stable to-day," -began one little boy, raising his hand. - -"You may tell it now," Neddy said, in a cheerful voice. - -Questions and answers followed, showing that many present had been -told of the love of Jesus Christ, even for the most sinful; and then -the little missionary, wholly unconscious that others beside the -inmates of the neighboring tenement houses were present, with a -little wave of the hand to command silence, began,— - -"I'm going to tell you the story our teacher told us at the mission -school to-day, and then we will sing our favorite hymn. - -"A great many years ago there was a rich man. He had two sons. -One was good and one was bad. I guess it was the youngest that -was bad. He didn't like to work. The other helped his father on the -big farm. Teacher said he thought the good one went around and told -the servants what to do, and was not afraid to work himself. They had -cows and calves and sheep, and all kinds of animals, I guess. - -"By and by the lazy one said he was tired of staying at home. -He wanted to travel, and he asked his father to give him his part of -the money and let him go. His father said yes. So the father and -the good son went on together for a great many years. They were -pretty happy, but not very. Can you guess why?" - -"Maybe the father was a sorrering for the boy who had quit his home," -murmured a mother in the farthest corner of the room. - -"That's a good guess. Yes, that was the reason he wasn't happy. -He loved his boy and he didn't like to have him away." - -"Why didn't he get a letter writ?" questioned a man who was holding -a child on each knee. - -"I don't know," answered Neddy. "I'm sorry I didn't ask teacher that. -P'r'aps he didn't know where to send the letter. But now I'm going -to tell you about the bad son. He had a whole bagful of money, and he -thought it would last him forever. So he kept buying things and -spending his money till one day he put his hand in his bag and it was -all gone, every bit. He was hungry, but he had not a penny to buy -food. He didn't dare to kneel down, as we do, and say, 'Our Father, -give us this day our daily bread,' because he had been awfully -wicked, getting drunk and lying and swearing, and doing everything -bad. You can't guess, any of you, what he did at last. Why, he was -that hungry he had to hire out to a farmer who kept pigs, and he -watched his chance when nobody was looking, to steal some of the -pigs' food. Before this he used to wear gay clothes, now he was all -in rags. One day he sat down on a stump of a tree. He was awful -homesick. He was tired of being so bad. He thought about his old -home, and how kind his father used to be, and what good things he had -to eat, He remembered how the men working on the farm had enough -to eat. All at once he began to cry, 'I wish I was home. I'm awfully -lonely way off here, and nobody speaks a kind word to me. -Nobody gives me even the pigs' food. I'm ragged, too, and filthy. -Oh, what a fool I was to leave my dear old home!'" - -"He cried and sobbed, but nobody pitied him." - -"Say, Neddy, did he die among the pigs?" asked a big girl, putting a -finger in her eye to keep the tears back. - -"I'm coming to the good part now. After he'd been crying a good -while, and feeling real sorry he had been so wicked, he thought -he heard a voice asking,— - -"'Why don't you go home?'" - -"'Oh, father wouldn't have me back!'" - -"'Yes, he would. He loves you still.'" - -"'Loves me! Can it be true? Then I'll go right off.' So he got up off -the stump and started. Teacher didn't say how far it was, but at last -he came to a place where he could see his home. His heart beat -dreadfully. 'Will he take me in? Will he?' Now I'm going to tell you -the very words he told himself he would say to his father. -Teacher made us all learn them, 'cause she said every one of us could -say them to God, our Heavenly Father. - -"'And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great -way off, the father saw him, and had compassion unto him, and ran, -and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him, -Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am -no more worthy to be called thy son. - -"'But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and -put it on him, and put ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. -And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be -merry: for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and -is found.'" - -"Is that 'ere a true story? You don't say he took him right back -again? Whew! I guess he was glad he went home." - -"There's only one thing more," added Neddy, when the astonishment had -somewhat subsided. "Teacher said that the good father in the story -means God. Everybody who wanders away from being good, is like the -bad son. Just as quick as we are sorry and ask Him to forgive us, -He will. She said that we must remember that He is ready just as -quick as we say we're sorry. - -"Now we'll sing, and then the school is done. You must all begin -with me,— - -"I am so glad that our Father in heaven -Tells of His love in the book He has given, -Wonderful things in the Bible I see, -This is the dearest, that Jesus loves me. - -"Though I forget Him and wander away, -Still He doth love me wherever I stray -Back to His dear loving arms would I flee, -When I remember that Jesus loves me. - -"Oh, if there's only one song I can sing, -When in His beauty I see the great King, -This shall my song in eternity be, -Oh, what a wonder that Jesus loves me." - -During the whole exercises, Marion had been aware that her companion -was deeply affected. She had refrained from looking at him, but now, -as the school was breaking up, she asked,— - -"Shall we stop and speak to him?" - -"No, no! I must get home. I'm too ill to be here." - -She had ordered the carriage to be back in an hour, and was glad -to see that it was at the door. They were seated in it and driving -off before the crowd came tumbling down the stairs. - -Mr. Lambert sank back in his seat, looking so pale that his companion -was really alarmed. She said nothing, however, but fanned him -continually till they reached his own door. She herself alighted and -rang the bell for the valet to assist his master, who muttered -to himself,— - -"Whatever he's been up to, he looks like death." - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -MANY BLESSINGS. - -THERE could scarcely be a greater contrast in two characters -among Miss Howard's associates than Mr. Lambert and Esther Sims, -or Esther Cole, as she asked Hepsey to call her for the present. -Poor to the extent that, when she left the home in the stable loft, -she had not a penny in the world and not a garment fit to wear to her -new service, unlearned and ignorant in worldly wisdom, she yet seemed -to absorb into her heart as governing motives to her life such sweet -and restful views of God as her Father and Jesus as her Saviour -as caused her young mistress to exclaim, "Thou and hast hid these -things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." - -With a childlike frankness so peculiar to her, she confided to Miss -Howard her increasing trust that God would answer her prayers for her -husband's conversion. - -"In that case you would return to him, I suppose." Marion wished -to test her feelings as a wife. - -A pretty pink flush flew all over Esther's face as she lifted -her eyes wistfully to the lady's. - -"God will take care of me," she said. "I am sure He will. It is -of him I'm thinking. Now that he is away from bad people and -can't get rum, it is such a nice time for him to become good. When he -comes out of prison, if God wants me to go back to him, He will let -me know it. Sometimes," she added, in a timid voice, "I think He -will, because I promised for better, for worse, you know." - -"Would you live with him if he were to beat you and abuse you as he -did before?" - -"Yes, ma'am, if I were sure God meant it so. I can never be -as miserable again as I was before." - -"Why can't you?" - -"Because I have a friend now who would be close by me always." - -"You mean Jesus Christ." - -"Yes, ma'am. Even if he did get—get out of his mind with drink, and -treat me unkindly, I would tell Jesus, and He would help me -to forgive. If I never answered back and always tried to have a smile -and the best home I could make for him, perhaps he might try -to be better. Oh, I should be too happy!" - -She clasped her hands to her breast, and looked so like an innocent -child in her perfect trust that Marion shed tears of delight. - -During the first week in September, Marion went to the Home for -the Sick, to see Mary Falkner, who, with the aid of a cane, was able -to walk the length of the ward. - -"Isn't it wonderful?" she exclaimed. "The doctors say, with the -exception of a limp in my gait, I shall be as well able to walk -as any one. They are all so kind to me. Who knows but I shall be able -to do some church work in your parish?" - -"If you are able we will give you enough to do," answered Marion, -blushing. - -On her way out the superintendent met her and asked her to step -to the parlor for a moment. He took from his pocket a letter recently -received, and handed it to her with an arch smile. Though he did not -know, he suspected the truth of a rumor he had heard concerning her. - -The letter read as follows:— - -Dear Sir,— - -In memory of God's goodness to my deceased sister and -to myself, while we were within the walls of the Home for the Sick, -and in gratitude for the faithful care to our bodies and our souls, -by pastor, chaplain, and nurses, I send you the enclosed check, -which I think you once told me was the sum necessary to found -a permanent bed in your blessed institution. That your labors may be -as useful in the future as they have been in the past is the sincere -prayer of a fellow-laborer in Christ's vineyard. - -HAROLD ANGUS. - -"The check was for five thousand dollars," added the gentleman. -"It was an unexpected thank-offering, and we are very grateful -for it." - -Marion expressed her pleasure, adding that Mr. Angus had told her -how much he owed to the faithful teachings he received while -in the Home. - -This seemed to our young friend to be a day to mark with a -white stone, it was so full of blessings. When she reached home -she found a letter from Mr. Lambert which overwhelmed her and -sent her to her knees to thank God for answering her humble prayers. - -It was characteristic of himself in its brevity. - -"Kind and faithful Friend,— - -"The prodigal has returned. The Father -met and embraced him. He has put off his tattered garments. He has -a new robe on him. His voice rings with a new song. In the better -words of another, this is the language of his heart,— - -"'I cannot love thee as I would, -Yet pardon me, O Highest Good! -My life and all I call mine own -I lay before Thy mercy throne. -And if a thousand lives were mine, -O sweetest Lord, they should be Thine! -And scanty would the offering be, -So richly Thou hast loved me.'" - -A few days later Marion went to Grantbury in answer to a summons -from her uncle. The outside walls of the church were finished, -with the exception of the spire. The men were at work on the dizzy -height, and expected to finish it by the middle of September. - -The frame to the new house was raised and nearly boarded in. -Mrs. Asbury said people were beginning to take quite an interest -in it. One lady asked her point-blank if the clergyman intended -to bring home a wife from England, to which she returned a decided -"No." - -During her stay Marion made a hasty call at the thread and needle -store to see the Widow Falkner. Mary had kept her mother informed -of her condition, and also of the great kindness all the patients -received, but she was delighted to see Miss Howard and learn -particulars about her daughter. - -Then Marion drove half a mile in another direction for a call -on Farmer Rand's wife, who was still an invalid. - -Seldom had her appearance created such an excitement. It was evident -something pleasant had happened. - -"Talk of an angel, etc.," said the farmer, with a grand flourish -of his hand. "Sit down, miss. You're as welcome as roses in June. -How are ye?" - -"We've been thinking a sight about ye," added the gudewife. "We've -had a letter. Maybe ye know it." - -"S-sh-sh, wife," making a sound like what he would make to quiet -his oxen; "wait a bit, I’ve something to say. Now, miss, did ye -ever hear about our church meetin'?" - -"Yes, indeed, I heard all the items in detail." - -"Wall, then, 't won't be breaking no Scripter rule if I do tell that -I was moved to draw a few hundreds out of the bank and gin 'em to the -Lord. 'T isn't that I'm a speakin' of. That 'ere's only the text -to my sarmon, you see. The good book says, The Lord loveth a cheerful -giver,' and I will say for myself and my good woman that the Lord -He helped us to give that 'ere money with as good a will as though -we were spendin' on 't to build a new bedroom out on our south side, -as we've been a plannin' to do for a score o' years. Speak for -yourself, Lucy. Am I stating your opinions correct?" - -"Yes, I was very glad you did it." - -"Well, then," said the farmer, laughing as he flourished his hands -again, "the first part o' my sermon is 'stablished, and I'll go on. -Wife, give me that 'ere Bible, will ye? Now I stan' to it that God -holds to His promises even when men aren't looking for Him to do it. -Here it is, He that watereth shall be watered himself'; and here's -another, The liberal soul shall be made fat.' Now look here. -Out there on the very edge of my farm there's a piece o' ground o' -no airthly value to me. There's nothin' but sorrel'll grow on 't. -I'd ha' given it to any friend for the askin'. Wall, one day in come -that prince of a man, 'Squire Asbury. I knew by the look o' his eye -he meant business. 'Mr. Rand,' says he, 'I ain't no hand -to circumvent' round matters; I go straight to the p'int.'" - -"'Go ahead,' says I. 'I ain't no hand for circumventing, neither.'" - -"'Mr. Rand,' says he, 'what will you take for that 'ere corner lot o' -yourn that runs out towards the railroad track?'" - -"''Squire Asbury,' says I, 'if you're in want o' that 'ere lot you're -as welcome to it as the flowers in May. 'T ain't no vally to me -at all.'" - -"'No, no,' says he, laughin'. 'I'm a bargaining for the railroad, -and they want to put up a freight depot there. The lot almost touches -the rails. Set your price.'" - -"'Oho!' says I, 'if that's the talk I calkerlate they're able to pay -a little suthing. I'll agree to any price you'll name. Don't you say -so, wife?'" - -"'Yes, I will,' Lucy answered up, loud and prompt." - -"'Squire Asbury kind o' laughed and repeated it over again. 'You both -agree,' says he, 'to stick to the price I name, be it more or less?'" - -"'Yes, we do.'" - -"'Well, then, I want the lot just as it lies, sand and all, coming -down to a p'int near the railroad, and a runnin' back one hundred -feet to the rail fence put across where the land lies even, and I'll -give you five hundred dollars for it.'" - -"'Good land, 'Squire' says I, ''t ain't wuth it.'" - -"'It's wuth every dollar of five hundred to the road,' says he; -'if they have to go a mile farther either way, they'll have to give -six or eight. I'll have the deed drawn up ready for you and your wife -to sign.'" - -"'Squire Asbury,' says I as soon as I could catch my breath, -'I believe the Lord sent you here. When I give that five hundred -to the Lord I never thought o' getting it back again, but you see -here 't is, dollar for dollar, and more, too, for the pleasure o' -giving my mite towards the Lord's new meeting-house was wuth the -whole sum. Sure as you live, Lucy and I, we give thanks to God -for lettin' of us have the privilege.'" - -"'Yes, yes, I know that,' says he, and so he does. If ever a man -was blessed in his basket and store it's that same 'Squire Asbury. -His hand, as the Scripter says, 'is open to the wants o' the poor.'" -He ended with one grand flourish. - -Marion laughed heartily as she said, "I wish you'd preach that sermon -to some of our rich men on Fifth Avenue who don't know the pleasure -of giving. It is as practical a sermon as I ever heard." - -"Now, wife, speak up, if you've anything to say." - -"Husband and I have had a letter," Mrs. Rand said, opening the large -family Bible and taking an envelope from between the leaves. "It has -made us real cheery coming so far, and it has good news in it, too. -The pastor is real friendly to think of us." - -"The pastor," exclaimed Marion, in surprise. "Have you had a letter -from Mr. Angus?" - -The farmer evidently understood that he had had his turn, and that -his wife now had the floor. - -He did not speak, but he nodded his head and performed other -pantomime in such a remarkable manner that Marion was made aware -what news the letter contained before the wife gave it to her -to read. - -Yes, there it was in plain black and white. He told this aged pair -that he was going to be married and settle down among them for life, -he hoped. He quoted the words of Solomon, "A prudent wife is from -the Lord," and he said, "I'm sure mine is a prudent one, a priceless -treasure. That she is from the hands of my Father in heaven I am -equally sure. You will agree with me when I tell you Miss Marion -Howard, your particular friend, has agreed to cast in her lot -with me." - -Marion kept her eyes fastened on the letter long after she had -finished it. She did not like her good friends to see how much these -manly words had affected her. She folded the sheet carefully and -passed it back, saying, "I am glad he has told you." - -"I guess we shall be able to hold on to him now," rejoined Mr. Rand, -trying to laugh. But as Marion rose to go his voice changed to the -tenderness of a father. He raised his hand over her head and -pronounced a blessing on her and on her chosen friend; then sat down -suddenly, and blew his nose like a trumpet to conceal how much he -was affected. - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY. - -THESE were busy days with our young friend. In company with Hepsey -she went to her old home and spent a week in looking over bedding and -furniture preparatory to having it removed to Ingleside. Her father's -place was let on a long lease, and she was well satisfied with the -care taken of it. - -Mr. Angus had written to beg her to consent that the wedding should -take place immediately on his return, but she replied that the house -would not be finished till some time later, and that it was necessary -for her to complete her arrangements for her mission and her protégés -among the poor before leaving New York. - -Since the change in Mr. Lambert, the idea of giving the care -of certain families to him had floated through her mind, but she -feared he was too impulsive or would be too easily imposed upon if he -undertook mission work. Annie Leman had promised to do all in her -power, and had already proved both willingness and tact in the work. - -On her return from the country, Marion found a note from Mr. Lambert -requesting to see her on business. She suspected at once it was -in relation to his will, about which he had already spoken to her. -She sent James with an answer saying she would call on him at nine -the next morning. - -Later in the day she was pleasantly surprised by a call -from Mrs. Cheriton and Eugene. They had advertised for and obtained -a boarding-place in the country a few weeks before, but not being -altogether pleased with the class of boarders they met there, -had suddenly returned to the city the day before. - -Mrs. Cheriton smilingly remarked that her mother seemed as pleased -as a child to be back in her old rooms in New York; that she had -taken her favorite seat near the window early in the morning, and had -spent an hour or more watching the passers-by; that it was -with difficulty they could persuade her to leave the window even -for her meals. - -Geenie gained great praise for his conduct during the visit. -He amused himself with a book of pictures Hepsey brought him, and -did not once touch any article in the room without liberty from his -mother or Marion. - -At a quarter to nine the next morning Mr. Lambert sent a carriage -for Miss Howard, and on her reaching his house waited upon her to his -library, a room adjoining his chamber. She had never seen this room -before, and went around examining the pictures hanging over the -well-filled bookcases. - -He had evidently been writing. Papers covered his table, and his pen -was still wet. As he took a seat near her, the visitor was startled -at the marks of the agitation of mind through which he had recently -passed. His cheeks seemed sunken and a circle round his eyes -betokened want of sleep. - -"I fear you are not strong enough for business yet," she remarked, -anxiously. - -"I'm all right," he answered. "I've had letters which have -disappointed me—personal matters. By the way, I may tell you -about them some time. To-day I want to talk about other things. - -"Miss Howard, I want to confess Christ. I want to do just the -very thing I once thought a humbug,—to join myself to God's people. -I want the help of a faithful pastor to keep my heart right, and I -want the counsel of fellow-Christians as to the best methods -of working for the Master." - -Marion's eyes filled with happy tears. "I'm so glad, so glad!" -she murmured. "Will you allow me to bring Dr. M—, my pastor, -to see you?" - -"No, child, I'm a poor old prodigal. I want to go among the poor and -do what I can there. You told me once about a mission chapel. That is -my place. It may be I can have courage to do something there, to help -men, who, like myself, have lived for years among the husks." - -"Oh, how I wish you would go to our parish in the country! There is -a great work to do there, and you ought to be where your daughter -could look after you." - -"That would be a great inducement, child. You are nearer to my heart -than any other. I have no ties of kin,—at least I can learn of -none. Another time I may tell you the nature of the disappointment -to which I referred. You will pity the poor, lonely man, I'm sure." - -His tone was so sad that it deeply moved her, and taking his hand -she pressed her lips upon it. - -"Don't do that, I can't bear it. I shall be unfit for the business -if I allow my feelings to have sway. I have been jotting down -a few items in connection with the disposal of my property. I have -more money than I know what to do with. If that interloper had not -stepped in, I would make you my heir, and you could scatter it round -as you please. As it is, I have set aside a few thousands to educate -our friend Neddy, and I want you to look after him if anything -happens to me. - -"What is the name of that girl-wife you told me about, whose husband -is in prison? I want to give you a thousand for her own use. If she -goes back to that scoundrel it must be so tied up that he can't get -at it. Will you have the goodness to pass me that long paper, -ruled with red ink? That's the one." - -In selecting this paper from the others, Marion had to move several -letters lying on top. As she did so her eyes fell on an open page, -with the name Madrid in full view. "Madrid! Does he have letters from -Madrid? That was Mrs. Douglass's native place." - -Her heart almost stopped beating, as a sudden possibility flashed -like lightning through her mind. She glanced back at Mr. Lambert. -"Could he, oh, could he be the cruel, exacting man whose jealousy and -distrust had rendered the life of her friend so miserable? No! -Oh, no!" And yet the thought, once entertained, would not be -banished. "What if he is? How can I find out? How would he bear it? -What a happy future he might have! What shall I do? What can I say?" - -Her habitual frankness came to her aid. She had mechanically given -him the paper and sank back in her chair, while he was so occupied -in glancing over the items that he had not noticed her wild stare -of astonishment. - -"Mr. Lambert—" She stopped; her heart seemed to rise up in her -throat and choke her. "Mr. Lambert, did you ever live in Madrid? -I saw the address on an open letter. I do not ask from mere -curiosity." - -"The most blissful and the most wretched days of my life were passed -in that city." - -"Mr. Lambert, something has happened to me. I—I can't think -of business to-day. Will you excuse and trust me as though I were -your own daughter? I want to tell you about a dear friend, -the grandmother of the beautiful boy you have heard me speak about -with such rapture. I promised to bring him to see you some day. -That boy is a native of Madrid." - -"What is the mother's name?" - -"Cheriton, Mrs. Juliette Cheriton." - -He shook his head thoughtfully. "I never heard the name." He laid -down the paper with a little vexed and disappointed air, adding, -"I haven't been in Madrid for more than eighteen years." - -"It is Mrs. Cheriton's mother who is my special friend. She is one -of the loveliest, most accomplished ladies I know, and such -an earnest Christian, too." - -"Is her name Cheriton?" - -"Oh, no! Eugene's mother is her daughter. She calls herself -Douglass." - -"Douglass!" Mr. Lambert started forward, then sank back and looked -as though he had been struck. Presently, with his hand on his heart, -he said in a choking voice,— - -"Tell me all you know. Don't spare me. This suspense is killing me." - -"I will tell you all, though I can only suspect the truth. -Mrs. Douglass, as my friend chooses to be called, told me this -was not her wedded name. Just before her daughter's birth, painful -family circumstances arose, which caused a separation between herself -and her husband. She has never seen him since." - -"Did she confide these circumstances to you?" The voice seemed -to come from a tomb. - -"Yes, she did, and it has been her life-long regret that she -could not explain them to the one most interested." - -"You are an innocent child. Mrs. Douglass, as she calls herself, -was my wife. She has deceived you. I saw what I saw with my own eyes. -She even gave up the ring I presented her on our betrothal." - -"Mr. Lambert, you must be calm. She does not deserve such bitter -scorn. You were deceived in one particular. You thought her an only -child. She had a brother, a wild, reckless man, who afterward paid -the penalty for his crimes. Mr Douglass forbade all mention of his -name, and frequently alluded to his daughter as his only child. -It was this wicked, daring fellow who suddenly appeared to my friend, -and almost drove her wild by demanding money or jewels from her. -She agreed to see him once, and give him all she could raise, -on condition he would never cross her path again. She did see him. -He seized her and held her forcibly while he wrested from her finger -the valuable ring you had given her. His cruelty nearly cost her -her life. She was carried to her bed, fell into convulsions, during -which her child was born. The resolve she had made to tell you -the truth at whatever cost, even her father's displeasure, it was -impossible for her to carry out. Before she was well enough -to understand what had passed, her husband, deceived and betrayed -by a servant, who with tears and groans confessed her guilt, was a -witness to the meeting between herself and her brother. He believed -her lost to him and to virtue. He himself carried her in his arms -to her couch, when, overcome by her brother's cruelty, she fainted, -but he never gave her an opportunity to explain the painful meeting. -If he had—" - -She was interrupted by a terrible groan from Mr. Lambert. He threw -his arms up, then, with a gurgling sound in his throat, he sank back, -insensible. - -Marion flew to the door and screamed for the valet. She loosened -the necktie, and began vigorously to chafe the cold hands, but it was -some minutes before he revived. - -"The doctor cautioned him to avoid all excitement," said the servant, -with a reproachful glance at the visitor. "Ever since those foreign -letters came he's been terribly took down." - -Marion was bending over him, with her hand on his forehead, when he -opened his eyes. - -"Don't—leave—me," he gasped. Presently he spoke again. "Do you -think God will forgive me?" The tone was so piteous she found -it impossible to control her voice to answer. She bowed her head. - -"Will you take a little hartshorn, sir?" asked the valet. - -"Yes." - -When it had been administered, he said, "Stay in the anteroom, -Miss Howard may need you.—Pray for me," he added the moment -they were alone. - -"Yes, I will; but first I want to tell you that your wife, -if Mrs. Douglass is indeed your wife, has loved you all these years. -She blames herself that she did not insist that her father should -tell you of her brother Henreich. I do not think there has been a day -these last ten years that she has not prayed for your conversion." - -His lip quivered like a grieved child, while great tears rolled down -his pale cheeks. In a voice scarcely more than a whisper, he said,— - -"Do you think it possible that she will forgive me?" - -"She has forgiven you already." - -There was a long silence after this. Mr. Lambert's countenance showed -that a terrible struggle was going on in his breast. Marion could not -look upon it, and covered her face, her cry going up to God for help -and comfort to this poor man. At last, recalling his request, -she fell on her knees, and in a low tone offered up her petitions -in his behalf. - -When she rose to her feet, she was startled at the awful pallor which -had settled on his features. She put her fingers on his pulse, and -to her terror found there was scarcely any beat. - -"Go for the doctor as quickly as possible," she cried to the servant. -"No, send some one. Don't leave me! He is very low." - -Fortunately the physician was near at hand and was soon at the -bedside. In a few words Marion related the wonderful story, that she -had just made the discovery that Mrs. Douglass was Mr. Lambert's -wife, which accounted for his alarming state of exhaustion. - -For several hours it was doubtful whether Mr. Lambert would ever -speak again. The physician told Marion that his case was a very - critical one, but at length they were able to force down a tonic, -and soon after he sank into slumber. - -The room was darkened, every sound hushed, and the faithful valet sat -alone to watch and wait by his master's bedside. - -It was night when he awoke; the physician had been in and out several -times, and ordered a few spoonsful of nourishment as soon as -he awoke. This was given him and he tried to speak. - -"Miss Howard." - -"She is not here. She said she would be back early in the morning." - -"I may not live till then. Take—a—pen—and—write. With my dying -breath I ask her to forgive me.—I leave to her—all—that I have -—in the—world,—with my dying—love and blessing. She, Miss— -Howard, will—know who—I mean. Tell her not to let our daughter -think too hard of her father. Fold—it and direct to Miss Howard." - -Meanwhile Marion had returned home in such a state of excitement and -fatigue that the physician, who took her there, sent her at once -to bed, and ordered Hepsey to give her a powerful anodyne. When she -woke, Mr. Lambert's servant had been to say that he wanted to see her -as soon as she was able. Hepsey insisted that she should not go until -she had eaten a hearty breakfast. - -"I think you ought to consider what Mr. Angus would say," she urged, -"and for his sake take a little care of your health." - -"Hepsey, I feared last night that Mr. Lambert was dead, and, oh, -Hepsey, it was what I had been telling him that made him fall into -the swoon! You will not wonder that I was sick with fear when I tell -you about it." - -"I shall tell Mr. Angus that you've had enough of excitement for one -life, and he'd better get you to the country as soon as he can." - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -RECONCILIATION AND HAPPINESS. - -THE carriage was already at the door, and Miss Howard drove hastily -to Mr. Lambert's residence. She was informed that he was stronger, -had taken more nourishment, and was again asleep. The valet came -from the chamber where the sick man had been carried and gave her -the sealed envelope; and with this in her hand she started -for Mrs. Douglass's boarding-house, scarcely daring to read -the words, lest she should unfit herself for the exciting scenes -she must expect. After a cursory glance at the page she thrust it -back into the envelope, and endeavored to form some plan by which -she might best convey to her invalid friend the wonderful discovery -she had made. - -Early as it was, Mrs. Cheriton had taken her boy for a walk. -Mrs. Douglass sat reading by the window. She greeted Miss Howard -with a smile and then, noticing her flushed face, asked,— - -"Are you well, dear?" - -"Can you bear good news, Mrs. Douglass?" - -"Good news seldom hurts any one." - -"Have you ever thought that your husband might be living near you?" - -"I know where he lives; I learned it by accident while in the country -and found it impossible to remain away." - -"And that explains your sudden return and your watching so constantly -from the windows?" Marion's tone was full of wonder. - -"I never told you his name. How did you find it out?" - -Marion then related all that had passed, and ended with giving the -paper which the sick man had dictated when he thought himself dying. - -Mrs. Douglass's countenance expressed the deepest feeling, but she -braced herself against giving way to her excitement. - -"I have been praying earnestly that I might be prepared for this -discovery, should it take place," she said. "I will go with you and -assure him of my entire forgiveness. Juliette knows nothing of her -father's desertion, and she need not be made acquainted with the -discovery." - -"Oh, Mrs. Douglass, I am sure he will never part with you again." - -She shook her head, rose, and put on her bonnet and shawl. - -Marion saw that, while she was making a great effort to appear calm, -her hands trembled so much that she could not tie the bonnet-strings. -Unobserved by the lady, she wrote with pencil on a piece of paper:— - -Dear Mrs. Cheriton,— - -I have taken your mother with me. Please remain -at home with Geenie till I call or send for you. - -MARION. - -This she left in plain sight on the table. - -On their way little was spoken until they approached the door, when -Marion said,— - -"I hope the doctor will be there. I dare not take you to -Mr. Lambert's room without his permission." - -The servant who opened the door stared at the new-comer, and said -to Miss Howard,— - -"Mr. Lambert is too ill, ma'am, to see visitors." - -"Yes, I know. This lady is going with me to the parlor to see -the doctor." - -She gave Mrs. Douglass her arm, and found from the manner the lady -leaned against her that she could scarcely support herself. - -The valet came at once. "Mr. Lambert is awake," he said, "and has -been calling for you." - -"I cannot leave this lady alone. Is the doctor here?" - -"He's just going, miss. I hear him coming downstairs." - -"Ask him to come here." - -"Dr. Danforth, this is my friend, Mr. Lambert's wife. Can she -see him?" - -"Go and tell him she is here. He is as impatient this morning as ever -old Mr. Regy was." - -The doctor tried to smile, but looked anxious. - -"I thought you would never come," said the sick man in a petulant -tone. "I might have died without ever asking her to forgive me." - -"Would you like to see her now?" - -"Would I?" He gave a scream which speedily brought the valet to his -side. - -"Get me up! Bring my clothes! Where is she? Don't let her go! -I'll be ready in a minute." - -The valet was thunderstruck, and looked at Miss Howard helplessly. - -"Mr. Lambert," said Marion, in an authoritative tone, "if you don't -lie down and be calm I'll take Mrs. Lambert away again. There, that -is right!" as he assented like a penitent boy. - -"You must be calm, for her sake. She is an invalid, and has been -for years." - -"Will you explain to her why I can't go to her? It's my place. -Are you sure she'll forgive me?" - -"Yes, I'm sure." - -"Now," said Marion, addressing the valet, who stood in open-mouthed -wonder, "you may go to the parlor and ask the doctor to assist -Mrs. Lambert up the stairs." - -The sick man quickly covered his face, and she heard him whispering -a prayer for help. "For his sake and for your own, be as calm -as possible," said Dr. Ross, leaving the lady at the door and -motioning the servant to retire. - -Marion only waited to see the long-deserted wife glide quickly to the -bedside, and then she, too, left them alone. The meeting was -too sacred for any eye but the omnipresent One to witness. - - - -Marion Howard was blessed with an excellent constitution, but of late -her keen sympathy with her friends, her frequent visits to her -mission scholars, in connection with the arrangements she was making -to leave, in addition to her own numerous cares, the purchase of her -trousseau, etc., had taxed her strength to an unusual degree. -Now that the wife was restored to her husband, Dr. Danforth insisted -that she should go home and take some rest. - -"I will, as soon as I have brought Mrs. Cheriton and her boy." -She had scarcely finished her sentence before a sudden attack -of dizziness made her clutch at a chair for support. - -"You must return, and at once," he said. "I will do all that is -necessary. I prophesy that this discovery will be the most effectual -remedy for Mr. Lambert." - -Marion found it most prudent to yield, and hastily leaving word -that Mrs. Cheriton was to be sent for, she left the doctor to make -all needed explanation for her sudden departure. The next morning, -in consequence of a telegram from Dr. Ross, Mrs. Asbury made her -appearance, and coolly remarked that she had come to stay till her -niece was able to return with her. - - - -On a bright October morning let us take a peep at Mr. Lambert and -his now united family. They have left the grand house in the city -to spend the autumn months on his farm in the country. To see our -friend now we should not imagine him to have been so recently one of -Dr. Danforth's sickest patients. His heart and his conscience -at rest, his countenance grows daily more serene, while he declares -he feels as young and fresh as he ever did. His wife, Mrs. Douglass -no more, moves quietly about, keeping within sight of the husband -from whom she has been so long separated. She is making a study -of his character eccentricities and all, and has already gained such -an influence over him that his eye turns naturally toward her -for approval. Many times in a day he asks for and receives a full -assurance of her entire forgiveness. Many hours are passed -in recounting the events which have occurred since they last met, -the keen disappointment he experienced when at last, unable longer -to endure the suspense, he wrote a friend in Madrid for news of her, -and learned that it was supposed she was deceased, and had been -for many years. - -The ring once wrested from her finger by her unnatural brother -was restored to its old place, it having been taken from the prisoner -just before his execution. As they looked at it and called to mind -all the wonderful providences which after so many years had brought -them together, their hearts were filled with new gratitude to their -Heavenly Father, who had out of these afflictions led them to a -knowledge of Himself. - -Toward his beautiful daughter, Juliette Cheriton, Mr. Lambert -exhibited a ludicrous respect, mingled with an unbounded admiration. -He found it extremely difficult to convince himself that she -in reality was his child. He watched her stealthily, blushing like a -boy when caught doing so. On the subject of her husband he was -at first reticent. It was, however, the occasion of reviving his old -habit of grumbling when he heard a wish expressed that Mr. Cheriton -would return, that there might be a complete union of the family. -He rushed about the room growling,— - -"He'd better not, the villain; I'd soon settle him. Let him -stay away! I'll let him understand I don't intend to leave her -a penny." - -In the mean time he lavished every indulgence upon her. She had -a pony carriage for her exclusive use. Her purse was kept filled -to overflowing. If it had been possible to spoil her he would have -done it. How often in these days her mother thanked God that her -daughter had not been brought into such temptations to worldliness -until she had learned to place her affections on objects higher and -more enduring. - -For his grandson Mr. Lambert felt such intense pride that he needed -constant checks in order that the boy need not take advantage of the -foolish fondness bestowed on him. If Mr. Lambert had never had -a master before, he had one now, and as we enter the house this -bright autumnal morning, a sight meets us which is proof of the fact. - -A wide hall runs directly through the old-fashioned dwelling, and -racing back and forth through this hall is our old friend, dressed as -his double, Mr. Regy, his long white hair floating behind him, as he -obeys the whip of his young driver, and canters, trots, or walks -in obedience to the orders of his grandson. - -"Get up, horse; go faster, grandpa!" - -Geenie in his voyage of discovery has resurrected many old and once -familiar objects, and among them Mr. Regy's dress. - -"What's this? Who wears this?" he shouts, holding up the wig and -beard to view. - -Being obliged to confess that he has sometimes worn these singular -articles, the boy demands that they be at once used by his horse; -and the owner, never dreaming that it was possible to refuse, donned -them, and with a pair of worsted reins round his body proceeded -to jingle the bells, running and cantering, to the perfect delight -of the young driver. - -Well for all concerned it was that Mrs. Cheriton had learned from sad -experience that if she wished her son to love and respect her -she must enforce obedience to her own commands and to the commands -of God. Mr. Lambert, though he often pleaded that the child's wishes, -however unreasonable, might be gratified, and was once or twice -detected in comforting him with confectionery under his -disappointments, yet acknowledged that his daughter's discipline -was necessary and must be maintained. - -A most ludicrous scene had once taken place between Eugene and his -grandfather, which those who saw it never forgot. - -The boy had disobeyed, and his mother placed him in a room by himself -to reflect upon his fault, for which he was to be punished. He was -sitting soberly in the chair where she had placed him, when, hearing -a sound from the adjoining room, he went in and found his grandfather -weeping. - -"What are you crying for, grandpa?" he asked, quickly. - -"I don't want your mother to whip you, but she must; yes, it's right -for her to do it." - -"Don't cry, grandpa; I don't mind. She doesn't hurt me any; she only -tickles me a little. 'T isn't nice for a big man like you to cry." - -"Eugene, come here," called his mother, taking his hand to lead him -back to his chair. She repeated what she had heard to her mother, -saying,— - -"I had as much as I could do to keep from showing my amusement. -Father looking so penitent, and Eugene comforting him." - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -CHRISTMAS DAY. - -IT is Christmas day. The chimes in the spire of the new church -are playing sweet melodies; and the Sunday-school children, -whose gift the chimes have been, are gathering together -from all quarters of the town to practise with their teachers -the Christmas carols they are to sing. - -This is the first service in the beautiful new church. It is -to be publicly dedicated to the worship of God on the next Sabbath, -but for weeks the workmen have put forth all their energies -to have it ready for a service on Christmas day. The choir have been -practising, too; and it is rumored new organist is expected, although -his engagement does not commence till the first of January. - -The sleigh-bells jingle merrily, for the ground is covered with snow. -Even now, an hour before service, several stalls in the neat row -of horse-sheds are occupied. Now here comes Farmer Rand, smiling and -nodding, and shouting his Christmas salutations to young and old, -as he drives his old horse up the ascent, through the gate close to -the nicely shovelled flagged walk to the front. The good farmer has a -precious load to-day, and he is very careful of it. Yes, that is -Lucy, his old woman, so wrapped up in shawls and buffalo-robes— -with a hot brick in her great yellow muff, and another at her feet, -which just now are cased in a pair of her husband's blue socks— -that she finds it almost impossible to alight from the sleigh. - -For weeks the good woman has been nursing her strength for this great -and joyful occasion. For days she and her man have watched the signs -of the weather, have even prayed that, if it was God's will, it might -be so propitious as to make it safe for her to go up to the house -of the Lord and join with His people in their anthems of praise -to the new-born King. - -Fortunately the sexton has recognized the farmer, and runs quickly -to offer his services it helping her to the porch. One and another -come forward to greet her and express their pleasure at seeing her -here. The children, even, gather round her pew and say,— - -"Merry Christmas, Miss Rand! How do you like the new church?" - -Yes, on this natal day of the world's Redeemer every face looks -joyful, every voice responds heartily to the kind wishes of his -neighbor. It is evident that a great wave of love and good-will -is flowing through all their hearts as they suddenly pause and listen -to the children's joyous tones chanting the strains the angels sang, -"Glory to God in the highest. Peace on earth, good-will to men." - -The service is to commence at eleven. The hand on the new and elegant -clock, a gift from the Pastor, points to five minutes before eleven; -the children have finished their practising and gone quietly -to their seats at one end of the organ loft. The slips are all full. -There is a hush. There comes the pastor and his bride, not a -stranger, but known and loved by all. Pausing for an instant to show -her into the pew, the first one selected in the house, he passes on -up the aisle into the study at the side of the pulpit. Ethel, the -only other occupant of the slip, causes a smile by her obsequious -attentions to the bride. She takes a hymn-book from the rack, and, -though unable to read a word, opens it and passes it, gets as near -Marion as possible, and finally, with a burst of affection, -seizes her hand. - -And Marion, her beaming face radiant with happiness, stands up -with the congregation, while the choir sing the famous old fugue,— - -"While shepherds watched their flocks by night, -All seated on the ground, -The angel of the Lord came down, -And glory shone around." - -Recalling all the goodness of the Lord to her during the last year, -the answers to her prayers, the many friends, who, one year ago, -were without Christ, now with Him, the happiness to which she -may look forward with the chosen companion of her life, her heart -swells with gratitude to the good Father who has directed her path -in such mercy, and to the dear Saviour whose advent they are -so joyously celebrating. She thanks God, and takes courage to go -on laboring to bring those about her to a saving knowledge -of His love. - -Her husband, glancing at her from the pulpit, sees that her eyes -are filled with tears, and he, too, thanks God, as he says -to himself, "They are happy tears." - -As long as we are the inhabitants of this earth, we must expect -occasional clouds with our sunshine. Disappointments are the lot -of mankind, and certainly neither Mr. Angus nor Miss Howard expected -to be exempt from them. The plan from the first had been to have -the wedding the week before Christmas, and a reception or -housewarming at Ingleside the following Monday. But, from one cause -and another, the new house was not finished, and this plan had to -be postponed. - -It was Marion's preference to defer the wedding till such time as -the house was considered fit for occupation. Such a pressure was, -however, brought to bear on her, that she yielded to the wishes -of her friend. He brought so many arguments to prove that the plan -he now proposed was even better than the original one, that the -few weeks before entering on the duties of housekeeping would give -her just the leisure necessary for the formation of some of their -new plans, etc., that, with a hearty laugh, she replied,— - -"I see that you intend to have your way, and as I believe that God -intended the husband to be the head of the family, I suppose I may -as well begin my obedience now. So on the week before Christmas -the wedding shall be." - -I am very sure if my reader had not seen Mr. Angus since I first -introduced him he would not recognize him now. Then he was bowed down -with grief, not only for himself, but for one whom he had -every reason to suppose was cherishing as toward her brother -such anger in her heart as would cut her off from Divine forgiveness. -He was, or felt himself to be, alone in the world. He had no right -to form a tie which would make another the sharer of such a burden -as his. To be sure, he had brooded over that one scene in his past -life until he had become morbid, and perhaps had not relief come -to him he might have become unfit to preach the gospel of glad -tidings to his fellow-men. When he walked, his eyes were cast down -to the ground, while sighs were much more frequent with him -than smiles. - -Now how different. He walked erect, with elastic tread, his eyes met -yours with a frank smile. One could scarcely be with him -five minutes without being drawn to him by a certain magnetism. -You felt that his heart was at rest, and more, you could not fail -to be sure that he was grateful for God's goodness, that he -was literally obeying the Divine injunction, "Rejoice in the Lord -alway, and again, I say, rejoice." - -Mr. and Mrs. Asbury cordially extended an invitation to the young -couple to remain with them till spring. The gentleman even urged -the necessity of having his niece close at hand until certain -building plans, etc., were complete. But this needs explanation. - -It was not probable that such grateful friends as Mr. and Mrs. -Lambert would allow so grand an occasion as Miss Howard's marriage -to take place without some act expressive of their deep affection and -respect. Now that Mr. Lambert had a wife and daughter with whom -he could consult, he spent much time in the discussion of what -would be the most acceptable wedding present. Once, hearing the word -"jewelry" from his daughter, he shouted,— - -"Jewelry! Would she like diamonds? I'll buy up a case of them." - -"I said I was sure she would not care for jewelry." - -"What shall it be, then? Not that anything we can do will ever prove -to her our sense of her goodness and faithfulness to us; but it -must be something to show her that I value my family, owe to her -my finding them." - -One day, before she left the city, Marion accepted an urgent -invitation to pass a day at the country home of her friends. -She also was requested to bring Esther and Neddy Carter with her. -During the day, the young lady, wholly unsuspicious of the object -of the visit, frankly narrated her own and Mr. Angus's plans -for the good of the town. Among other things, she said that there -was no library for free circulation, adding, "One of my -most-cherished plans is to build a neat and attractive house, -with two large rooms, one for a library of well-selected books, -the other a reading-room for both secular and religious papers, -and also some of the best magazines. But we can't do everything -in one year." - -Mrs. Lambert had suggested to her impulsive husband that it would be -more delicate not to allude to the subject of a wedding gift, -but here, he thought, is just the way to please her. He rushed from -the room, motioning his wife to follow, and after sundry antics, -such as would have better befitted Geenie's years, he drew a blank -check, and with his fingers on his lips, held it up before his -astonished companion. - -"It's for the library," he said, putting his lips close to her ear. - -She nodded approval with a cordial smile, but pointed to the blank -space. - -"Let her fill it up. Will ten thousand do? It must be nothing mean." - -"Suppose we wait a little and try to ascertain the probable cost." - -"No, I can't wait! I want it off my mind. If you don't want to see -old Mr. Regy," with a comical grin, "you'll help me now." - -She put her hand lovingly on his shoulder, which never failed to calm -his impatience, and asked softly, "Why not, then, let her fill it up, -as you suggested?" - -"So I will!" He held the check toward her and motioned her to give -it. - -"No, my dear, generous husband, that pleasure belongs to you; I can -see just how her eyes will sparkle and those pretty dimples begin -to play." - -He flatly refused. "No," he said, laughing, "if I were to attempt it -I should be old Regy again in a minute." - -She sat down at his desk and wrote,— - -Dear Friend,— - -We have tried in vain to think of a gift for your -approaching marriage which will in any measure suitably express -to you our appreciation of your invaluable friendship. - -Your remark just now in regard to a library and reading-room -has suggested the idea of giving to you funds sufficient for that -worthy object and letting you use them as you think proper. - -JULIETTE D. LAMBERT. -M. R. LAMBERT. - -She gave it to her husband to read and sign, enclosed the blank -check, and carried it into the next room and gave it to Miss Howard. - -With what astonishment and delight the young lady read it, -the embraces and thanks which followed, I must leave my reader -to imagine. In the midst of the excitement which followed, -Mr. Lambert, who had chosen to remain behind, raced from one end -of the room to the other, where he was found by Eugene holding on -to his sides and making the most strenuous endeavors to restrain -his laughter. - -In consequence of this generous gift, a lot of land was purchased, -not far from the public school, and the town at a public meeting, -called for the purpose, added to the library lot a large field -formerly used for pasturage. This was to be fitted up for all sorts -of games and athletic sports. - -Mr. Lambert and his family went to Grantbury, and insisted that the -library building be two stories, the upper story to be finished off -into a hall for concerts, school exhibitions, etc. The eccentric old -gentleman was very angry when it was proposed to name this "Lambert -Hall," in token of gratitude to the giver. - -"I've nothing to do with it," he insisted. "Put it Howard Hall or -Angus Hall, if you please. It's nothing to me, any way." - -"Except that your name stands at the bottom of the check for the -cost," replied Marion, with an arch glance in his face. - -"Things have come to a pretty pass—wedding present—chose that -rather than diamonds." - -He was growling away in the genuine old style, when Geenie made them -all laugh heartily by calling out,— - -"Grandma, did you bring Mr. Regy's wig? He has come back again." - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -OUR INGLESIDE. - -ESTHER COLE had received two letters, or rather notes, from her -husband since the one she wrote him; but now months had passed -without a word in answer to her regular weekly letter. Mr. Angus was -greatly interested in the young wife who was so patiently enduring -her trials, and insisted that she ought to be allowed to follow -the dictates of her own conscience in regard to her connection with -her husband. - -Day after day Esther looked for a letter, but looked in vain. -At length, pitying her too evident disappointment, Mr. Angus wrote -to the chaplain of the prison, making inquiries in regard to the man. -The letter, about which he had said nothing, was answered -immediately, and contained a slip cut from an Auburn paper. -Joseph Cole, with three of the worst prisoners, had escaped -from their confinement early one dark night. They had nearly killed -a watchman who ran to give notice, and had so far escaped justice. - -The chaplain added that the criminals had been subsequently traced -to New Orleans, where a gang of roughs had been seized for arson and -murder. On the trial it was proved that the younger and apparently -the most hardened had a number of aliases, but that his real name -was Joseph Cole. - -"My poor, trusting Esther!" exclaimed Marion to her husband, "this -will end your faith in your husband's reformation. This will settle -the question of your return to him." - -But greatly to her surprise, and to the surprise of all Esther's -friends, though she mourned so deeply over Joseph's sins that her -cheeks grew colorless and her eyes looked into yours more wistfully -than ever, she yet held fast to her belief that God had power -to touch the hardest heart, and that in answer to her importunate -prayers He would, in His own good time, lead him to penitence and -a godly life. - -"Whether he ever comes back to me or not is of little consequence, -ma'am," she said, as Marion was trying to comfort her. "I don't think -I shall live many years, but, oh, I do long for him to know how God -can comfort people! What would I do now, ma'am, if I were without -Christ, as I once was? If poor Joe only had Christ, he would be -happier than he ever was in his life, even though he is in his cell." - -The last was said with a piteous sob, which went to the listener's -heart far more than the loudest wails. - -And here we must leave our humble friend. We know that God did fill -her heart with such thoughts of Himself, of His pitying tenderness -toward all His creatures, that she was comforted under the bitterest -sorrow a Christian can be called to endure,—the unworthiness -of those we love. We leave her to the gracious sympathizing Saviour. - -Glancing forward a few years, I am sure the reader will be pleased -to learn that Neddy Carter is fulfilling the promise of his -childhood. Meeting him in the street, one would never imagine that he -is indebted to artificial supports for his ability to go from place -to place, while his clear, brown eyes, looking you so straight in the -face, his open brow, and abundant, wavy locks, interest the most -casual observer. - -If he were asked, "Who is the happiest youth in this great city?" -he would, without hesitation, answer,— - -"It would be hard to find a happier boy than I am since my mother -goes with me regularly to church." - -He is and will be for years to come a protégé of Mr. Lambert, who has -given over a sum of money to proper guardians for the purpose -of educating him. - -The library building is finished, the shelves are lined with books -selected by the pastor, who is the chairman of the library -association, and a company of ladies and gentlemen appointed for the -purpose. The hall above, forty feet by sixty, is fitted up with -a curtain, foot-lights, etc., but can never be used except with the -consent of Mrs. Marion Howard Angus. After many discussions, the name -"Howard Hall" is conspicuous over the desk, but our old friend Marion -is eager to assure every one who points to it that it is a memorial, -not to herself, but to her father. - -A very pleasant circumstance in connection with the library is that -Mary Falkner, now confirmed in health and activity, was unanimously -chosen librarian, with a salary large enough to support herself and -her mother. - -One more scene, and I have done. - -Accompany me, dear reader, up this smoothly gravelled walk to the -elegant mansion at the summit of Church Hill. Notice as you pass -that luxurious vine winding itself so lovingly around the pillars. -The slip from which it has grown was brought by Mr. Angus from the -old Ingleside homestead. - -Although it is June, the mornings are cool, and as we push open -a French window and step in from the wide, uncovered piazza, we see -an open fireplace, with a few embers smouldering away on the high -brass and irons. There is an air of refinement and cosey, homelike -comfort about the room that we would like to describe, but something -of still greater interest attracts us. - -Sitting on a low chair near the fire is a young girl, whom we soon -recognize as the little Ethel we loved so dearly. As we have seen her -so many times, she is still hovering over a cradle, but this time -the occupant is a living, breathing, cooing, jumping, heart-winning -baby. - -At this moment the little one is sleeping. Ethel gazes lovingly -at the fair countenance, the rosy lips moving in pleasant -recollection of the sweets it has tasted, the long, curly lashes -resting on the plump cheek, and acknowledges to herself -that live babies are a great improvement on dolls. - -Now voices are heard in the hall. Just as a lady and gentleman enter, -a carryall drives to the door. The gentleman has on his arm sundry -wraps, an afghan, a tiny cap being daintily held on his outstretched -fingers. There is a new expression on his features, and we can -scarcely believe that this tall athlete, this noble-looking man, -with a smile on his lips, which looks as though it belonged there, -is the same gentleman whom we first knew as Harold Angus. - -But how shall I describe our Marion? The eyes are as bright, -the dimples still in view, but the whole face is flooded -with a new light. It is the mother love. - -She takes little Stella from the cradle, uttering those soothing -sounds which even the youngest babies so well understand, and -dresses her for the ride, Ethel, meanwhile, looking on -in wondering admiration. - -They are going to the station to meet their dear friends, Dr. and -Mrs. B-, from the Home for the Sick, and when they have driven -around the town, intend to bring them home for a quiet Sunday. - -And this is our Ingleside. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INGLESIDE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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