{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_68179/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_68179","id":"gutenberg_68179","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68179","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Christian life -- Juvenile fiction","Clergy -- Juvenile fiction","Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Death -- Juvenile fiction","Faith -- Juvenile fiction","Gideon (Biblical judge) -- Juvenile fiction","Good and evil -- Juvenile fiction","Jews -- Juvenile fiction","Midianites -- Juvenile fiction","Obedience -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"[Illustration: GIDEON\u2019S NIGHT ATTACK ON THE MIDIANITES\n\nPage 236.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n                                   THE\n                           TRIUMPH OVER MIDIAN.\n\n                                   _By\n                               A. L. O. E._\n\n       _Author of \u201cThe Shepherd of Bethlehem,\u201d \u201cExiles in Babylon,\u201d\n                        \u201cRescued from Egypt,\u201d &c._\n\n                              [Illustration]\n\n                                 LONDON:\n                   T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;\n                         EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.\n\n                                  1874.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: PREFACE]\n\n\nIn attempting to illustrate the history of the victory of Gideon, I am\nconscious that I am entering on well-trodden ground. Others have gathered\nthe lessons and examined the types with which that portion of the\nScripture-field is so richly studded. I lay claim to little originality\nof thought on the subject which I have chosen. A humble task has been\nmine; that of endeavouring to show that the same faith by which heroes of\nold _out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to\nflight the armies of the aliens_, is still, as the gift of God\u2019s grace,\nbestowed on the lowliest Christian. Writing, as I have done, under the\ndepressing influence of domestic sorrow, and the languor of weak health,\nI feel how very imperfectly I have executed my task; but I humbly\ncommend my little work to Him who despiseth not the feeble, and whose\nblessing on the humblest instrument can make it effectual in His service.\n\n                                                               A. L. O. E.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: CONTENTS]\n\n\n        I. THE RETURN,                                9\n\n       II. BROKEN BUBBLES,                           19\n\n      III. LECTURE I.\u2014MIDIANITES IN POSSESSION,      39\n\n       IV. THE LITTLE MAID,                          49\n\n        V. THE DEATH-BED MESSAGE,                    62\n\n       VI. LECTURE II.\u2014FAITH IN THE PROMISE,         76\n\n      VII. A SERMON BY THE FIRESIDE,                 85\n\n     VIII. THE SISTER\u2019S VISIT,                       96\n\n       IX. LECTURE III.\u2014FAITH IN OBEDIENCE,         112\n\n        X. OPENING THE CASKET,                      122\n\n       XI. TIDINGS,                                 133\n\n      XII. LECTURE IV.\u2014FAITH IN TRIAL,              145\n\n     XIII. A PROMISE,                               154\n\n      XIV. SUSPICIONS,                              169\n\n       XV. EVIL TONGUES,                            183\n\n      XVI. LECTURE V.\u2014FAITH CONFIRMED,              196\n\n     XVII. DISCLOSURE,                              203\n\n    XVIII. MERCY AND SELF-DENIAL,                   214\n\n      XIX. REFRESHMENT,                             227\n\n       XX. LECTURE VI.\u2014FAITH VICTORIOUS,            235\n\n      XXI. BONDAGE,                                 243\n\n     XXII. THE NIGHT,                               252\n\n    XXIII. A SISTER\u2019S VOICE,                        259\n\n     XXIV. A TRIUMPH,                               277\n\n      XXV. LECTURE VII.\u2014FAITH CROWNED,              288\n\n     XXVI. CONCLUSION,                              298\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE TRIUMPH OVER MIDIAN.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE RETURN.\n\n\n\u201cHome, once more at home!\u201d how joyful sounded the exclamation from the\nlips of Edith Lestrange, and how brightly sparkled her eyes as she\nuttered it, as, with a step light as a fawn\u2019s, she revisited each spot\nwhich five years\u2019 absence had only made more dear. With joyous impatience\nshe ascended the broad oaken staircase of Castle Lestrange, to flit like\na fairy from room to room, lingering longest in the old nursery, where\nshe had known childhood\u2019s pleasures, with not a few of its sorrows\u2014and\nthe playroom, in which her toys were still stored. There was the doll\nthat had been to her as a companion, to which the lonely little heiress\nhad whispered many a trouble; the pretty picture-books, the miniature\ntea-things of delicate china, that had been such sources of amusement. It\nwas a pleasure to Edith, from recollections of \u201cauld lang syne,\u201d to touch\nand handle these childish treasures, though at the age of eleven she\ndeemed herself no longer a child.\n\nThen to the newly-returned traveller how great were the delights of the\ngarden and the park,\u2014the one bright with the flowers of spring, the\nother donning its light green robe, while in the sheltered mossy dells\nfragrance of violets filled the air. Edith almost wondered that the\nlight-footed deer should bound away on her approach: her heart felt so\nfull of joy and kindness, that it seemed strange that any living creature\nshould fear her. The heiress of Lestrange took pleasure in visiting the\ncottage of her father\u2019s steward, where the familiar faces of Holdich and\nhis wife were as the faces of old friends, bright with hearty welcome.\nHer canary, cared for by Mrs. Holdich during her absence, was tamer than\never, and its quivering notes of delight seemed to its youthful mistress\nan echo of the music of happiness which sounded within her own soul.\n\nFor Edith did not return to the castle of her ancestors as she had left\nit five years before\u2014a feeble, fragile invalid. She no longer painfully\ndragged her weary limbs along, with languor oppressing her spirits;\nspringing and elastic was the step which now bounded over the mossy\nturf. The cheeks that had been almost as colourless as the snowdrop,\nhad now a faint dawn of colour upon them, like that on the opening buds\nof the apple-blossom. Edith was still a delicate plant, like an exotic\nreared in a hot-house, but an exotic skilfully tended, expanding its\npetals in healthful life.\n\n\u201cOh, how true it is that there is no place like home!\u201d exclaimed Edith,\nas she sauntered up the broad avenue, with sunshine on her path, and the\nblue cloud-flecked sky smiling above her.\n\nThe observation was addressed to her cousin, Isa Gritton, who was\nspending a day at the Castle, a short time after the return of Sir Digby\nLestrange and his daughter. Isa was a young lady whose age might be about\ntwo or three and twenty, and who might therefore have scarcely been\ndeemed a suitable companion for one so youthful as Edith, had not the\nlittle heiress possessed a mind so early matured by the discipline of\ntrial that she was scarcely regarded as a child by those who intimately\nknew her. Isa Gritton was a tall and graceful girl, with auburn hair, and\neyes like those of the gazelle\u2014large, soft, and expressive: mirroring\neach passing emotion, whether it were that of mirth and gladness, or, as\nwas now the case, a shadow of painful thought.\n\n\u201cDo you not feel with me,\u201d said Edith, \u201cthat there is a charm in the very\nname of _home_?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE COUSINS.]\n\n\u201cI did so once,\u201d replied Isa, with a sigh; \u201cbut for the last two years,\nsince the loss of my dear father, I cannot be said to have had a real\nhome.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you have one now, dear Isa,\u201d said Edith; \u201cand oh, how glad I am\nthat your brother chose to build one at Wildwaste, so near us. Why, even\nI\u2014who never perform great feats in the walking line\u2014will be able to\nmanage the distance on foot; it is barely a mile, I hear. I dare say that\nMr. Gritton kindly chose the site of his house there on purpose that you\nmight be near your uncle and cousin. To meet you often, very often, will\nbe such a pleasure to me; I shall feel as if I had at last what I have so\noften longed for, a sister to share all my sorrows and joys. I will soon\nreturn your visit, and you shall show me your brother\u2019s new house. Has he\nnot built a charming retreat, with a pretty garden and shrubbery round\nit?\u201d\n\nIsa Gritton laughed: but there was a little bitterness in the laugh.\n\u201cTastes differ,\u201d she replied; \u201cand Gaspar having been his own architect,\nhe doubtless admires his work. But my ideal of beauty is hardly realized\nby a house that looks as if a geni had transplanted it bodily from\none of the smaller streets of London, in all the newness of yellowish\nbrick as yet undarkened by soot, and had dropped it on the edge of a\nmorass\u2014not a tree within half a mile of it\u2014where it stands staring out\nof its blindless windows as if wondering how it came there, with nothing\nto remind it of London but the great soap manufactory, which is the most\nconspicuous object in the view, the smoke of which might do duty for that\nof a whole street in the city.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow could Mr. Gritton build such a house, and in such a place!\u201d\nexclaimed Edith in surprise; \u201cI could not fancy you in a home that was\nnot pretty and picturesque. I have no clear remembrance of Wildwaste save\nas a wide flat common sprinkled with gorse, for I seldom or never visited\nthe hamlet when I was a little child.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will scarcely care to visit it often now, except out of compassion\nfor me,\u201d said Isa, smiling. \u201cMr. Eardley tells me, however, that\nWildwaste, bad as it is, is greatly improved from what it was some years\nago, when it had nothing in the shape of a school.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Eardley\u2014then you know him?\u201d cried Edith, brightening at the mention\nof the pastor whom she reverenced and loved.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied Isa; \u201cthough, Wildwaste not being in the parish of Axe, we\ndo not belong to his flock. Mr. Eardley had heard, through your steward\u2019s\nwife, I believe, that we wanted a girl to help in the house. He called to\nrecommend to us a young proteg\u00e9e of his own, a black-eyed gipsy-looking\nlittle creature, who blushes scarlet when she is spoken to, and seems to\nbe afraid of the sound of her own voice. I think, however, that with a\nlittle training Lottie Stone will suit us very well.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you not like Mr. Eardley?\u201d said Edith, looking as if assured that the\nanswer must be in the affirmative.\n\n\u201cVery much; I wish that he were our clergyman instead of Mr. Bull, who\nmust be nearly eighty years old, and who\u2014but I don\u2019t think it well to\ncriticize preachers.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe attend the service at Axe\u2014we drive there, for it is much too far\noff for a walk,\u201d said Edith Lestrange. \u201cYou shall come with us every\nSunday\u2014that is to say,\u201d she added, with a little hesitation, \u201cif you\ndon\u2019t mind leaving your brother. Papa does not like more than three in\nthe carriage.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps I ought not to leave Gaspar,\u201d said Isa, gravely; and she added,\nbut not aloud, \u201cif I were not with him, I fear that he would not go to a\nplace of worship at all.\u2014No, Edith,\u201d she said to her cousin, \u201cI am afraid\nthat I cannot accompany you to Axe on Sundays, but I have promised Mr.\nEardley to bring Lottie twice a week to the little cottage-lectures which\nhe gives in the dwelling of Holdich the steward.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen we shall always meet there,\u201d observed Edith. \u201cI have such a sweet\nremembrance of those cottage-meetings, though I was such a little girl\nwhen I went to them that of course I could not understand all that I\nheard. I felt as if there were such peace, and holiness, and Christian\nkindness in that quiet home-church, where young and old, and rich and\npoor, gathered to hear God\u2019s truth, and pray and praise together. And\nHoldich himself is such a good man,\u201d continued Edith warmly: \u201cit is not\nmerely that he does not mind openly confessing his religion\u2014whatever\npeople may think of it\u2014but that he lives up to what he professes. Papa\nwent on the Continent, you know, rather in haste, and there had been a\nlittle confusion in his affairs, and no time to set them right. Papa was\nalways so generous, and those about him had abused his confidence so\nsadly.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I heard something of that,\u201d observed Isa, who, like the rest of the\nworld, was aware that Sir Digby\u2019s ostentatious extravagance had plunged\nhim into pecuniary difficulties, and that change of air for his invalid\nchild, though the ostensible, had not been the only cause of his retreat.\n\n\u201cBut Holdich has brought everything into such beautiful order,\u201d continued\nEdith,\u2014\u201che has quite surprised papa by the way in which he has managed\nthe estate. He has cared for his master\u2019s interests as much, I think\n_more_ than if they had been his own. Papa used to suspect people who had\nthe name of being very pious, but he said this morning at breakfast, \u2018A\nman like my steward, who brings his Christianity into his daily dealings,\ndoes more to convince infidels of the real power of faith than all the\nlearned books that ever were written.\u2019 I treasured up the words to repeat\nthem to Holdich\u2019s wife. I think that she and her husband are the happiest\npeople that I know, and especially now that their son is doing so well as\na schoolmaster under Mr. Eardley.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe subject of the new series of cottage-lectures is to be Gideon\u2019s\nTriumph over Midian,\u201d observed Isa.\n\n\u201cAnd the first is to begin at seven this evening,\u201d said Edith. \u201cPapa has\ngiven me leave to be always present\u2014at least when the weather is fine;\nand some of our servants will go too. They are not all able to get to\nchurch on Sundays, for Axe is five miles from the Castle.\u201d\n\nThe cousins, slowly sauntering up the avenue, had now reached a grassy\nmound at the end of it, on which a tall weather-cock stood, and which\nmight be ascended by a flight of marble steps. Having mounted these\nsteps, a very extensive and beautiful prospect lay before Isa and Edith,\nwhile a rural seat invited them to rest and enjoy it.\n\n\u201cI have looked upon many lovely views in Italy,\u201d observed Edith, as her\neye wandered with delight over the scene; \u201cbut, to my mind, there is none\nto compare with this. I always missed that dear little spire seen in the\ndistance yonder, where I knew that Sunday after Sunday the real truth was\npreached in my own native tongue by a servant of God. It always seems to\nme with Mr. Eardley as if he were like the disciples, who went to their\nMaster and had their directions in the morning straight from His lips;\nand that in the evening, when his labour was over, he would go and \u2018tell\nJesus\u2019 all that he had done, and all that he had tried to do\u2014receive the\nLord\u2019s smile and His blessing, and then lie down to rest at His feet.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt seems so with some clergymen,\u201d said Isa. \u201cWhen they feed the people\nwith the bread of the Word, we feel that they have just taken it from\nthe hands of the Lord\u2014that He has given thanks, and blessed, and broken\nit; so that we look from the servant to the Master, and realize that the\nministry of the gospel is hallowed service indeed.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nBROKEN BUBBLES.\n\n\n\u201cSo you especially enjoyed your stay at Florence,\u201d said Isa, after the\nconversation had taken a less serious turn.\n\n\u201cI was very happy there; it was so beautiful, and we knew such very nice\npeople. I should have liked to have stayed there much longer.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd why did you not remain there?\u201d asked Isa. \u201cDid not Sir Digby enjoy\nFlorence too?\u201d\n\n\u201cVery much indeed, until\u2014until a lady came to stay there who spoilt all\nhis pleasure in the place.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow was that?\u201d said Isa.\n\n\u201cWhy, the lady was witty; at least people said so; but if her kind of\ntalking was wit, I wish that there were no such thing in the world. All\nher delight seemed to be to gossip and make her friends merry; and so\nlong as they laughed, she did not much mind what they laughed at. You\nsee,\u201d continued Edith in a confidential tone, \u201cher mother had lived in\nthe Castle, and she talked a great deal about that. Now, of course, it\nwas quite right and noble in papa to let strangers come here while we\nwere away\u2014and there had been difficulties, as you know\u2014but he did not\nlike its being talked about to every one.\u201d\n\nIsa could easily comprehend that her proud uncle had been very sensitive\non the subject of the letting of his ancestral mansion.\n\n\u201cAnd then,\u201d pursued Edith, \u201cshe mixed up what was true with what was\nnot true; and how could strangers tell whether she spoke in jest or in\nearnest? She said that papa had been harsh and violent to his servants;\nand that was shamefully false!\u201d exclaimed the girl, with a flush of\nindignation on the face usually so gentle and calm\u2014\u201che had been only too\nindulgent and trustful. In short, this lady made Florence so unpleasant\nby her gossip, that papa could bear it no longer. He said that he would\nnever willingly be for a day in the same city with Cora Madden.\u201d\n\n\u201cCora Madden!\u201d repeated Isa, with a little start; and Edith, who had been\nlooking up at her cousin, saw with surprise a stern, gloomy expression\npass over her countenance like a shadow.\n\n\u201cDo you know Miss Madden?\u201d inquired the baronet\u2019s daughter.\n\n\u201cDo I know her?\u201d repeated Isa slowly, with her hazel eyes bent on\nthe ground. Then suddenly she raised them, as she uttered the abrupt\nquestion, \u201cEdith, do you know what it is to hate?\u201d\n\n\u201cHate? no, not exactly,\u201d replied the gentle girl; \u201cbut there are some\npersons whom I do not like at all\u2014some with whom I feel angry at times. I\nwas angry with Miss Madden one day when she was laughing at Mr. Eardley,\nand mimicking his manner. I thought her doing so was so silly, so wrong.\nBesides, rudeness to one\u2019s friends tries one\u2019s patience a great deal more\nthan unkindness to one\u2019s self.\u201d\n\n\u201cCora reminds me of the description of the wicked in the Psalms,\u201d\nobserved Isa\u2014\u201c\u2018_They shoot out their arrows, even bitter words._\u2019 She\ncares little where the darts alight, or how deep they may pierce.\u201d\n\nEdith, who had a very tender conscience, was very doubtful whether such\nan application of a text from Scripture was consistent with Christian\ncharity. Without venturing, however, to reprove, she merely observed in\nher gentle tone, \u201cI am sorry that I spoke of Cora at all. It was breaking\na rule which I had made.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is your rule?\u201d asked Isa.\n\n\u201cNever to speak of those whom I cannot like, except to God,\u201d replied\nEdith.\n\n\u201cAnd what do you say of them to God?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, if I speak of them to God, I must speak _for_ them,\u201d answered little\nEdith; \u201cI dare not do anything else, for the Lord has told us to love\nour enemies, and we could not bring malice into our prayers.\u201d\n\n\u201cYours is a good rule, darling,\u201d said Isa, and she turned to imprint a\nkiss on the forehead of her cousin. \u201cLet us speak no more of Cora Madden,\nand may God help us to obey the most difficult command contained in all\nthe Bible!\u201d\n\nTo explain why the command appeared such a hard one to the young\nmaiden\u2014why the very name of Cora called up bitter remembrances to her\nmind\u2014it is needful that I should let the reader know something of the\nprevious history of Isa Gritton.\n\nLike her cousin Edith, Isa had early lost her mother, and had been the\nonly daughter in her father\u2019s home; but otherwise there had been little\nresemblance between the early childhood of the two. Edith, a crippled,\nsuffering invalid, had been the unmurmuring victim of nursery oppression;\nand in her splendid mansion had had more to endure than many of the\nchildren of the poor. Isa, on the contrary, fondly tended by a devoted\nnurse, herself strong, vigorous, and full of spirits, had found her\nchildhood flow pleasantly past, like a stream dimpling in sunshine and\nbordered with flowers. Isa had scarcely known what it was to feel weary,\nsick, or sad. Her father called her his little lark, made only to sing\nand to soar. She was beloved by all who knew the bright, playful child,\nand her affectionate nature disposed her to love all in return. The\nreligion which was carefully instilled into Isa partook of the joyful\ncharacter of her mind. Isa was troubled by no doubts and few fears. The\nthoughts of heaven and bliss which were suggested to her, were congenial\nto the spirit of the child. Isa looked forward to the joys of Paradise\nwithout letting imagination dwell either on the dark valley or \u201cthe\nnarrow stream.\u201d Her idea of death was simply a peaceful removal to a yet\nbrighter and happier home.\n\nThere were some spiritual dangers attending this existence of ease and\njoy. The very sweetness of Isa\u2019s disposition dimmed her perception of\ninward corruption. If she was tempted to make an idol of self, it was an\nidol so fair that she scarcely recognized it as one. Sometimes, indeed,\nIsa\u2019s conscience would accuse her of vanity as she lingered before her\nmirror, surveying with girlish pleasure the smiling image within it, or\nrecalled words of fond admiration, or committed some little extravagance\nin regard to dress, for Isa at that time had a weakness for dress. But\nthe accusation was made in a whisper so soft, that it scarcely disturbed\nher serenity. It affected her conduct, however; for on the day when Isa\nfirst received a regular allowance of her own, she made on her knees a\nresolution which never was broken\u2014not to spend money on the adornment\nof her person without devoting an equal sum to the relief of the poor.\nThus early the love of God combated the love of the world; a bridle was\nplaced upon vanity, which was still but a bridle of flowers; for Isa felt\nas much pleasure in helping the poor as in wearing a new robe, or in\nclasping the jewelled bracelet round her soft white arm.\n\nIsa\u2019s brightness of spirit did not pass away with childhood; it rather\nincreased, as the bud expands into the perfect flower. But in life\u2019s\nschool Providence has appointed various teachers, and few of God\u2019s\nchildren pass many years upon earth without coming under the discipline\nof disappointment, bereavement, and care. Isa was to know all three. The\nfirst came to her when the blooming girl felt herself at the very summit\nof earthly bliss, when a halo of happiness was thrown around every object\nnear her. Isa believed herself to be the most blest of women in being\nbeloved by Lionel Madden. Young and inexperienced as she was, Isa\u2019s fancy\ninvested her hero with every noble and sterling quality; she believed\nall that she desired, and the bright bubbles blown by hope glittered\nwith all the prismatic tints of the rainbow. The bubble suddenly broke!\nLionel became cold, alienated, shortly after the arrival of his sister,\nwho seemed to have taken an instinctive dislike to Isa. What had been\nsaid against her Isa never exactly knew; but whatever poisoned shaft\nhad destroyed her hopes, she knew that it came from the quiver of Cora.\nWhat marvel if bitter, resentful feelings arose towards the author of\nher deep, though hidden, anguish? As Isa\u2019s gaiety was suddenly changed\ninto gloom, so her kindly loving nature for awhile seemed altered into\none sternly vindictive. Like Satan intruding in a paradise of peace, and\nblighting its flowers by his presence, hatred, and even a lurking desire\nfor vengeance, suddenly arose in a soul which had previously appeared to\nbe formed only for happiness and love.\n\n[Illustration: CHANGED AFFECTION.]\n\nBut had Cora really injured Isa? Nay; the malicious enemy had done\nmore to shield the young maiden from misfortune than her most tender\nfriend could have done. Cruel may be the hand which tears to pieces the\nhalf-formed nest which a bird is building on a hedge by the wayside, but\nit is well for the bird if it be thus constrained to choose a higher\nand safer bough. Lionel was unworthy of the affection of a faithful,\nconfiding young heart. It was well for Isa that her bubble was broken,\nthat her cherished hopes were scattered to the winds. She did not think\nso, she could not feel so; even Lionel\u2019s very worldly marriage, which\ntook place a few months afterwards, did not fully open her eyes to this\ntruth. Isa deemed all that was unworthy in the conduct of young Madden\nthe result of the influence of his sister; and regarded Cora not only as\nher own evil genius, but that of the man whom she had loved. Startled and\nalarmed by the fierce passions which, for the first time, struggled for\nthe possession of her heart, Isa looked upon Cora as the cause not only\nof misery, but of sin also. Isa\u2019s self-knowledge was deepened by trial,\nbut it was a self-knowledge that mortified and pained her. She found\nthat she was far from what she had hoped to become, from what the world\nbelieved her to be; she was no calm angel soaring above earth and its\ntrials, but a weak tempted woman, who found it hard not to murmur, and\nalmost impossible truly to forgive.\n\nAnd yet Cora had been but an instrument in a higher Hand, and to Isa\nan instrument for good. We may praise God in another world even more\nfor the malice of our bitter enemies, than for the tender love of our\nfriends. Jacob\u2019s paternal affection would have shielded his best-beloved\nson from every touch of misfortune; but it was the hatred of Joseph\u2019s\nbrethren, the malice of his false accuser, that led him\u2014through the pit\nand the prison\u2014to exaltation and to honour. Satan himself became, through\nGod\u2019s over-ruling goodness, an instrument of blessing to Job; his cruel\nassaults led to deeper experience in the man whom he sought to destroy,\nmore close communion with God, and doubtless more exalted blessedness\nhereafter. No enemy, human or infernal, has power to do us aught but\n_good_, except by leading us into sin. Could we realize this, our wounded\nhearts might find it less difficult to forgive the wrongs which are\n\u201cblessings in disguise.\u201d\n\nNot a year after the stroke of disappointment had fallen upon Isa, she\nhad to endure that of sudden bereavement. A few\u2014very few\u2014days of anxious\nwatching by a parent\u2019s sick-bed, and Isa found herself fatherless as\nwell as motherless in the world. Very heavy lay the burden of loneliness\nupon the young orphan\u2019s heart. It is true that Isa had a half-brother\nyet living, but Gaspar was many years older than herself, and Isa had\nseen very little of him, as the greater part of his life had been passed\nin Jamaica. Still the affections of Isa clung fondly around the nearest\nrelative left for her to love, especially as she knew her brother to be\nin broken health; and she resolved that to watch over him and minister to\nhis comfort should be the object thenceforth of an existence from which\nall the brightness appeared to have departed.\n\nEven with thoughts of Gaspar, however, were linked associations of\nmystery and pain. Isa had never imparted to any one a care which to her\nyoung spirit was more oppressive than sorrow itself. She had never told\nhow, when the shadow of approaching dissolution lay on her father, when\nthe delirium of fever had passed away, he had fixed his glazing eyes\nupon his daughter, at that midnight hour the sole watcher beside him.\nThe dying man had seemed anxious to disburden himself of something that\nweighed on his mind; he struggled to speak, but his parched lips could\nscarcely frame articulate words. Isa strained her ear to catch the almost\ninaudible accents, bending down so low that she could feel the dying\nman\u2019s breath on her cheek. A few scattered sentences were gathered,\ndeeply imprinted on her memory by the solemnity of the time when they\nwere uttered.\n\n\u201cGaspar\u2014you will be with him\u2014something wrong\u2014the _Orissa_\u2014not her money\nlost\u2014he should deal fairly by that orphan\u2014tell him from me\u2014\u201d But whatever\nwas the message intended, death silenced the lips that would have sent\nit, and Isa was left to ponder painfully over what could be \u201cwrong,\u201d and\nhow Gaspar could have not \u201cdealt fairly\u201d by an orphan, at least in the\nopinion of his father.\n\nThe remembrance of these dying words, the dread of some painful\nexplanation with Gaspar, alone threw a damp upon the earnest desire with\nwhich Isa looked forward to her only brother\u2019s return to England. Her\naffectionate spirit yearned for the sympathy of one bound to her by the\ntie of blood, and she longed once more to possess a settled home. About a\nyear after Mr. Gritton\u2019s death, Gaspar arrived from Jamaica. Isa was at\nthe time residing with a friend in London, and her brother took a lodging\nnear her. Being a good deal occupied with business during the day, and\ntoo much an invalid to venture out in the evening, Gaspar did not see\nmuch of his sister,\u2014far less than Isa desired. Her brother\u2019s manner\ntowards her was gentle and courteous, his kindness won her gratitude, his\nbroken health her sympathy. Isa wished to devote herself to the care of\nher brother, but he preferred delaying the time when they should reside\ntogether in a settled home, until he should have built a house into which\nhe could receive his young sister. During this period spent in London,\nIsa either found no opportunity of speaking to Gaspar on the subject of\ntheir father\u2019s mysterious message, or she put off making the effort\ntill a more quiet season, when her brother might have recovered his\nhealth. She could not bear to risk exciting him when he was so delicate,\nor offending him when he was so kind. Isa gladly availed herself of any\nexcuse to delay the performance of a duty from which she intuitively\nshrank.\n\nIsa felt grateful to her half-brother for selecting as the place of\ntheir future residence a spot near Castle Lestrange. She had paid many\na delightful visit to her uncle\u2019s lordly mansion, both before and after\nthe death of his wife, and she deemed it a proof of Gaspar\u2019s considerate\naffection for herself, that he should purchase a site for his house but a\nmile from the dwelling of those who were her relatives, but not his own.\nIsa could have wished, indeed, that it had not been on the Wildwaste side\nof the Castle, as memory recalled a flat expanse of common surrounding a\nmiserable hamlet, and an unsightly manufactory; but she had not visited\nher uncle\u2019s home for nearly six years, and many changes might have taken\nplace during that period. Isa also encouraged herself with the thought\nthat a little paradise might stand even in the midst of a barren heath,\nlike an oasis in a desert; and that as Gaspar had chosen to build a house\ninstead of buying one, it was evident that his was a taste which could\nnot be satisfied by any ordinary attractions in a dwelling.\n\nDuring the time when Gaspar was building, Isa never once saw her\nbrother. He took a lodging above the single shop in Wildwaste, that he\nmight superintend operations. He kept a sharp eye over the workmen who\nwere brought from London, not suffering them, it was said, to mix with\nthe cottagers around, or spend their evenings at the small county inn.\nThere was no doubt that Gaspar Gritton was eccentric, and Isa was aware\nof the fact; but she was disposed to look at her only brother in the most\nfavourable light, and persuaded herself that she rather liked a dash of\neccentricity in a character; it redeemed it from being commonplace.\n\nIsa was very impatient for the completion of her new home, and would, if\npermitted, have entered it before it was sufficiently dry to be a safe\nresidence for her. Buoyant hope had again sprung up within her young\nheart, long cast down, but not crushed by affliction. Life might yet\nhave joys in store for the bright girl. Isa would be, as she thought,\neverything to her brother; his nurse, companion, and friend. She would\nmake his home a fairy dwelling, where everything on which the eye might\nrest should be graceful and pretty. Isa knew that her brother had\nsufficient means to procure every comfort; and though her own patrimony\nwas but slender, she hoped, dispensing Gaspar\u2019s alms, to become a\nbenefactress to all the poor around them. Again the fairy bubble was\nglittering before Isa, and if its colours were now less splendid, and it\nrose to less lofty a height still the emblem of earthly hope was not\nwithout its beauty and brightness.\n\nIt was on a day in March that Isa joined her brother. She had enjoyed\nher journey by train; the sunshine had been brilliant, her companions\nagreeable, and her mind was full of pleasant expectation. Isa\u2019s pleasure\nwas damped by the little disappointment of not finding Gaspar ready to\nwelcome her at the station. It was with a sensation of loneliness that\nshe took her seat in a hired open conveyance to be driven to Wildwaste\nLodge. The sunshine was now overclouded, a fierce north-east wind was\nblowing, from the chilling effects of which the young lady from London\ntried to protect herself in vain. The horse was lame, the drive seemed\nlong.\n\n\u201cAre we far from Wildwaste Lodge?\u201d asked Isa at last of the driver,\nas they skirted a dreary common of which she fancied that she could\nrecognize some of the features.\n\n\u201cThat be\u2019s the house,\u201d replied the man, pointing with his whip towards a\nnarrow three-storied dwelling, looking staringly new, without sheltering\nshrubbery or even hedge, with no blinds to the windows, no porch to the\ndoor, nothing that could redeem its aspect from absolute vulgarity. Could\nthis be the rural retreat to which Isa had given the name of home!\n\n[Illustration: ISA\u2019S ARRIVAL AT WILDWASTE.]\n\nDisheartened and chilled felt Isa as her conveyance passed through the\nwretched hamlet, where groups of untidy women and barefooted children\nstood staring at the unwonted apparition of anything in the shape of a\ncarriage. She scarcely liked to look again at the house, as the lame\nhorse stopped at the dark green door. Gaspar did not come forth to\nwelcome her; he dared not face the cutting wind which had chilled his\nsister to the heart. Cold and numbed after her journey, Isa\u2014when a deaf\nelderly woman had answered the knock\u2014descended from the conveyance;\nherself saw her boxes carried into the narrow hall by the driver, paid\nthe man and dismissed him, and then hastened into the parlour, where\nshe found her brother. His reception, though not uncourteous, was by\nno means calculated to dispel the chill which had fallen on the spirits\nof Isa. Gaspar was so full of his own complaints that he had scarcely\nleisure to observe that his sister was tired and cold. After conversing\nwith him for a while, Isa arose to explore the other apartments of the\nhouse. She suppressed a little sigh of disappointment as she ascended the\nuncarpeted stair.\n\nThe interior of Wildwaste Lodge was, if possible, more unattractive than\nits outward appearance. Gaspar had reserved the ground-floor for himself,\nand no one had a right to complain if in his own peculiar domain he\npreferred simplicity to ornament, and neglected the little elegancies\nwhich Isa deemed almost essential to comfort. But Isa was deeply\nmortified when she entered her own apartments, which were immediately\nover those of her brother, and found them furnished with a regard to\neconomy which amounted to actual penuriousness. A few chairs, not one of\nwhich matched another, and which seemed to have been chosen at haphazard\nout of some broker\u2019s shop; a table of painted wood, one of the legs of\nwhich did not touch the uncarpeted floor; and a shelf to serve as a\nbookcase: these formed the entire furniture of the young lady\u2019s boudoir.\nThere was not so much as a curtain to the window. Isa, weary and chilled\nafter her journey, felt inclined to sit down and cry from mortification\nand disappointment. Little joy could she anticipate from a life to be\npassed with one who from the first showed such disregard for her pleasure\nand comfort.\n\nIsa\u2019s misgivings were painfully realized. There are some persons who are\npleasing in society, agreeable when only met on casual occasions, with\nwhom it is very annoying to be brought into closer contact. It is trying\nto the temper to transact business with them, still more trying to dwell\nunder the same roof. The character of such persons seems to be made up\nof angles, that on every side chafe and annoy. A graphic writer[1] has\nhumorously described them as unpruned trees. \u201cLittle odd habits, the\nrudiments of worse habits, need every now and then to be cut off and\ncorrected. We should all grow very singular, ridiculous, and unamiable\ncreatures, but for the pruning we have got from hands kind and unkind,\nfrom our earliest days.... Perhaps you have known a man who has lived for\nforty years alone; and you know what odd shoots he had sent out; what\nstrange traits and habits he had acquired; what singular little ways he\nhad got into. There had been no one at home to prune him, and the little\nshoots of eccentricity, of vanity, of vain self-estimation, that might\nhave easily been cut off when they were green and soft, have now grown\ninto rigidity.\u201d\n\nMr. Gritton, from living much alone, had become a man of this kind. The\nmost unsightly branch on the unpruned tree was that of penuriousness.\nIsa had had little opportunity of knowing her brother\u2019s infirmity until,\nwhen she became a resident in his house, it affected her daily, her\nhourly, comfort. Herself generous and open-handed, fond of having the\nconveniences and elegancies of life around her, yet esteeming as the\ngreatest of luxuries the power of giving freely to others, Isa could\nnot understand, far less sympathize with, the love of money for money\u2019s\nsake, which was the leading characteristic of Gaspar. It seemed to her\nso grovelling, so mean, that Isa had to struggle against emotions not\nonly of irritation but of contempt. She was also deeply wounded to find\nthat Gaspar\u2019s affection for his only sister was so subordinate to his\navarice. The young lady, accustomed to luxury and refinement, had the\nutmost difficulty in persuading her brother even to allow her to find\nan assistant to the ill-tempered elderly woman whom he had engaged\nas a general servant. Though Isa succeeded in gaining her point, Mr.\nGritton would only give such wages as would be accepted by none but an\ninexperienced girl like Lottie Stone. The efforts which it cost Isa to\ncarry out even this small domestic arrangement made her aware of another\nunpleasant fact\u2014that Gaspar had a peevish, irritable temper, more trying\nto one residing constantly with him than a passionate one would have\nbeen. The dying charge of her father lay now like an oppressive weight\nupon the heart of poor Isa: her new insight into the character of Gaspar\ngave to their parent\u2019s words a more forcible meaning, and she dreaded\nmore and more the idea of being compelled by a sense of duty to open the\nsubject to her brother.\n\nThe first weeks of Isa\u2019s residence at her dreary home would have been\nweeks of positive misery, but for the cheering prospect of the speedy\nreturn of her uncle and cousin, and the comfort which she derived from\nthe visits of the pastor of Axe, whose fatherly interest in her young\nservant had first led his steps to her dwelling. Smiling April came at\nlast; and with it\u2014more welcome to Isa than the nightingale\u2019s song\u2014Edith\nLestrange returned to the Castle. It was now arranged that Isa should\npass with her cousin a portion of each of those days on which an evening\nlecture should be held at the steward\u2019s cottage, and return to Wildwaste\nin the baronet\u2019s carriage at night. It was something to Isa to be thus\nsure of at least two pleasant days in the week; though the contrast\nbetween the refined elegance of Edith\u2019s home and the dreary discomfort of\nher own, increased the sense of bitterness in the soul of Isa.\n\nBut that sense of bitterness seemed for a time to pass away, and\ndomestic trials to be forgotten, when the cousins entered together\nthe flower-covered porch of the dwelling of Holdich, to unite with\ntheir poorer brethren in the simple cottage service. Edith\u2019s heart was\noverflowing with thankful delight at being permitted again to worship in\nthat place where some of her earliest impressions of religion had been\nreceived. Isa felt that here at least the carking cares of life might be\nshut out: she might lift up her soul, as in happier days, unto her Father\nin heaven.\n\nThe subject chosen by Mr. Eardley was the history of the triumph of\nGideon, the hero and saint, over the hosts of Midian. It was his object\nin this, as in former courses of lectures,[2] to draw simple practical\nlessons from the narratives contained in the Word of God; and as such\nlessons are required by us all, I shall weave the brief addresses of the\nclergyman, though in separate chapters, into the web of my story.\n\n    [1] _Vide_ \u201cAutumn Holidays of a Country Parson.\u201d\n\n    [2] _Vide_ \u201cThe Shepherd of Bethlehem,\u201d \u201cExiles in Babylon,\u201d\n    and \u201cRescued from Egypt.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nLECTURE I.\u2014MIDIANITES IN POSSESSION.\n\n\nFor forty years after Deborah had celebrated the triumph over Sisera\nin her glorious song, the land of Israel had had rest. This period of\ntranquillity receives such brief mention in the Scriptures, that we are\nin danger of forgetting for how long a time God granted the blessing of\npeace. And thus is it in our own lives, my brethren: times of trouble\nstand out, as it were, like rugged crags, shutting out from memory\u2019s view\nthe vines and the fig-trees, the olive-yards, the green pastures and\nstill waters, with which our gracious God for long may have blessed us.\n\nSeven years of trouble to Israel succeeded the forty years of repose:\nnot _causeless_ trouble\u2014such is never known in the experience either of\nIsraelite or of Christian. But we do not always search out the actual\ncause of affliction. With God\u2019s ancient people the punishment was clearly\ntraced to the sin. When the Midianites, like a swarm of locusts, came up\nagainst them, destroying and wasting, driving the inhabitants of the land\nto hide in dens of the mountains, strongholds, and caves, it was because\nthe stain of idolatry lay upon Israel; and mercy, to save the sinners,\nrequired that justice should chastise the sin.\n\nThe Midianites, who were thus made an instrument of punishment to Israel,\nwere, like themselves, descendants of Abraham, but by his union with\nKeturah. When Moses guided God\u2019s people towards Canaan, the Midianites\ndrew down vengeance on themselves by their too successful efforts to\nlead Israel into sin. Then perished the wicked prophet Balaam amongst\nthe enemies of God\u2019s people. But Midian, though punished, had not been\ndestroyed; and now, after the lapse of nearly two hundred years, we find\nit a very powerful nation, against whose numerous hordes the Israelites\nseem to have made no attempt to defend their homes\u2014so completely was the\nwarlike spirit crushed in the descendants of those who had triumphed\nunder Moses and Joshua when they fought the battles of the Lord.\n\nWhen the Israelites were in trouble, then they cried aloud to the God\nof their fathers, and He heard and answered their prayer: not yet by\nsending a deliverer\u2014the sense of sin must be deepened before the judgment\nbe removed. A prophet was sent to the people, with a message, not of\npromise, but of reproof:\n\n\u201cThus saith the Lord God of Israel, I brought you up from Egypt, and\nbrought you forth from the land of bondage, and I delivered you out of\nthe hand of the Egyptians, and out of the hand of all that oppressed you,\nand drave them out from before you, and gave you their land. And I said\nunto you, I am the Lord your God; fear not the gods of the Amorites in\nwhose land ye dwell: but ye have not obeyed My voice.\u201d\n\nThe great and glorious deliverance of Israel from Egypt we may regard\nas a type of the redemption of Christ\u2019s Church from the dominion of\nSatan\u2014the triumph achieved once and for ever by the mysterious sufferings\nof our Saviour, His sacrifice offered upon the Cross. This is the\n_central truth_ of the Christian religion. But though Egyptian darkness\nbe left behind\u2014though Christians be received into the enjoyment of\nprivileges purchased by the death of their Lord\u2014their backslidings, like\nthose of Israel, often draw upon them heavy troubles, resembling the\ndevouring hordes of Midian.\n\nI am not, my brethren, speaking of the afflictions and bereavements\nwhich are the common lot of all. During the forty years of blessed\npeace, sickness and sorrow must have been known in homes of Israel, and\nfaithful servants of God have wept over new-made graves. Such trials are\ncrosses appointed by a heavenly Father\u2014crosses which each and all must\ntake up at some period of life, if life be not early cut short. But I am\nspeaking of troubles directly or indirectly brought on us by our sins:\nthe Midianites who destroy our peace, and bring upon us miseries from\nwhich more earnest faith, more perfect obedience, might have preserved\nus. We are accustomed to speak of this life as \u201ca vale of tears;\u201d but let\nus search and examine whether the valley owe not the greater part of its\ndesolation and gloom to foes to our peace whom _we might have kept out_,\nand over whom faith may yet give us a victory glorious as that of Gideon.\n\nTo explain my meaning more clearly, let me draw your attention to a few\nof what we may call chiefs\u2014leaders of hordes of troubles, Midianites\nin the heart, that trample down our happiness and destroy our comfort\nin life. I shall mention four names but too familiar\u2014Disappointment,\nDiscontent, Dissension, Distrust. Let us see whether the sufferings which\nthey inflict are not more severe and perpetual than those brought upon us\nby what are called visitations of Providence; whether many griefs which\nwe term \u201ccrosses\u201d are not rather burdens laid upon us by enemies to the\nsoul, to whose yoke we should never have stooped.\n\nThe first Midianite chief whom I shall bring before you is\nDisappointment\u2014the intruder who cuts down the green crop of hope, and\nleaves a famine in the soul. Whence is it that even the Christian\nis constantly subject to disappointment? Is it not from habitual\ndisobedience to the divine command, _Set your affections upon things\nabove, not on things beneath_? We eagerly fix our heart on some worldly\nobject\u2014ambition, pleasure, or gain: like children, we build our houses of\ndelight on the sand within reach of the tide, which must sooner or later\nsweep them away, and then sit down and weep when the flood rolls over the\nspot which we had unwisely chosen. Let each of us who in the bitterness\nof disappointment has mournfully repeated the words of the Preacher,\n_Vanity of vanities, all is vanity_, see whether the idol in the heart\nhas not been the cause of the Midianites\u2019 invasion; and whether that\nfaith which builds on the Rock of Ages, beyond the reach of desolation\nor decay, may not yet overcome the power of disappointment to harass the\nsoul. Hopes fixed upon Christ know not disappointment; treasures laid\nup in heaven can never be lost; ties formed by faith endure throughout\neternity; the less our joys are of the earth, earthy, the less danger\nthere is that the spoiler can ever wrest them away from our grasp.\n\nAnd whence cometh Discontent, who robs his slave of all his peace?\u2014for\npeace and discontent cannot abide in the same soul. Can he who says to\nhis most bountiful God, not only with his lips but from his heart, \u201cI am\nunworthy of the least of Thy mercies,\u201d ever know discontent? Must not\nthe peevish, envious, rebellious spirit be ever kept far from his gates?\nWe should deem so; and yet, Christian brethren, do we practically find\nthat it is so? Are we not too often inclined to compare our lot with that\nof others, and, if not openly, yet secretly, repine, as if Providence\nhad done us a wrong? No true servant of Christ can desire to have his\nportion here; and yet does not the inheritor of heaven too frequently\nmurmur because not all the good things of earth are showered upon him\nin addition? How different his spirit from that of the apostle! He who\nhad _suffered the loss of all things_, yet could affirm, _I have learned\nin whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content_. Had we also learned\nthis lesson, we should find it less impracticable to obey his command,\n_Rejoice in the Lord alway; and again I say unto you, rejoice_.\n\n\u201cYou have not your due,\u201d were the words which I once heard a wife address\nto a husband who had been deprived of some advantage which she considered\nto have been his right. \u201cNay, God be praised that I have not my _due_,\u201d\nhe replied. \u201cWhat is my _due_ as a sinner before God? what is my due from\na world which I have renounced for His sake? Had I chosen my portion in\nthis life, then only might I complain of not receiving my due!\u201d Here was\na man whom discontent could not rob of his heritage of peace.\n\nTo pass on to Dissension, the third enemy to our happiness, who invades\nmany a home, and makes goodly dwellings miserable abodes,\u2014to what shall\nwe trace his invasion? Is it not written in Scripture, _By pride cometh\ncontention_?\u2014would not the _soft answer_ that _turneth away wrath_\noften prove as a strong bar to keep him from entering our habitations?\nBut here I must guard myself from being misunderstood. It is possible\nthat dissension may come where the fault lies on one side alone. The\nChristian may be\u2014not unfrequently is\u2014called to brave opposition, and draw\nupon himself the anger of men by defending the truth, or taking up the\ncause of the oppressed. The command, _Live peaceably with all men_, is\nqualified by _if it be possible_; for in some cases it is _not_ possible\nto preserve harmony without giving up principle. Under such circumstances\nthe sacrifice of peace is a sacrifice for God, and the cross is one which\nis borne for His sake. But in the majority of cases dissension follows\non the footsteps of pride, and is the leader of malice, hatred, and all\nuncharitableness. Then, indeed, is he the true Midianite who pours gall\ninto the very springs of enjoyment, who casts his venomed arrows on every\nside, and maketh a wilderness of that which might have been as the Garden\nof Eden. _Better a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and\nhatred therewith._ Could we, through the grace of God\u2019s Spirit, purge\nfrom our souls all malice, all bitterness and wrath\u2014could we love one\nanother as Christ hath loved us, what heart-burnings, what heart-achings\nmight be spared, and how often would the brightness of heaven appear to\nbe reflected even upon earth!\n\nDisappointment, Discontent, and Dissension have, as we have seen, much\nto do with the train of sorrows which have given to God\u2019s fair world the\nname of \u201ca vale of tears.\u201d But I believe that the most dangerous enemy\nof all to our peace, the one who has most often pressed his iron yoke\non the hearts of my hearers, is the fourth whose name I have mentioned,\nDistrust of the love and wisdom of God. This assertion may cause surprise\nin those who are unconscious of a doubt; but examine yourselves closely,\nmy brethren, observe what has most often clouded your brows, saddened\nyour spirits, drawn the deep sigh from your hearts. Has it been regrets\nfor the past? Has it been the trials of the present? Has it not rather\nbeen care for the future, fears of what the morrow might bring? Would\nnot perfect obedience to the injunction of our blessed Redeemer, _Take\nno thought for the morrow_, sweep away at once more than half of the\ntroubles that weigh on our souls?\n\nAnd why take thought for the morrow? We too often appear to forget\nthat the future lies in the hand of One \u201ctoo wise to err, too good to\nbe unkind.\u201d We act as if we could not, or would not, believe that _all\nthings work together for good to them that love God_: we are needlessly\nrestless, anxious, unhappy, and exclaim in our trouble, \u201cHow heavy a\nrod the Lord lays upon me!\u201d Nay, poor weak unbelieving heart, thou\nart smitten less by the rod of thy Father, than by the scourge of the\nMidianite within. If faith could drive out mistrust, if thou couldst in\ndeed and in truth cast thy cares upon Him who careth for thee, then\u2014even\nhere\u2014might God give thee _beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning,\nthe garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness_. Perfect trust would\nbring perfect submission, and the peace that passeth understanding.\n\nGideon, the future deliverer of Israel, first appears before us in\nScripture engaged in threshing corn beside the wine-press in order to\nhide it from the rapacious Midianites who held possession of the land.\nFrom the necessity of concealment he cannot employ, after the custom of\nthe East, his father\u2019s oxen to trample out the wheat; he must himself\nwield the flail with the strength of his own right arm. Gideon is\nemployed in a task of lowly toil, unconscious at first of the presence\nof the heavenly Being who has descended to earth, and who is now beside\nhim under the shadow of the oak at Ophrah. And here for the present we\nwill pause, and defer till our next meeting the consideration of God\u2019s\nmerciful promise to Gideon, and the effect which it produced on his soul.\nIf we regard Faith under the emblem of a tree, we have hitherto viewed\nit as such tree may appear in winter, when there is not a blossom on the\nbough or a leaf on the spray. There is no outward evidence of life; and\nthough we hope that spring will draw up the sap, and clothe the bare\nbranches with beauty, we see no present sign of the change. Such may\nhave been the state of Gideon\u2019s faith when he thought on the sufferings\nof his miserable country. The flail of the Lord was upon it, but we know\nfrom the result that it was not to crush\u2014not to destroy the wheat, but to\nseparate the chaff from the grain, and so render the latter more fit for\nreception into the garner of the Lord.\n\n[Illustration: GIDEON THRESHING CORN.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE LITTLE MAID.\n\n\n\u201cGood-bye, Isa dearest, we shall often\u2014very often meet,\u201d were the parting\nwords of Edith that night.\n\nWrapped up warmly for protection from the cold air, Isa descended the\nsteps beneath the lofty portico of the Castle, and entered the luxurious\ncarriage which her uncle had placed at her command. As she sank on the\nsoft cushions, a dreary, aching sensation came over her heart; she felt\nas if she were leaving brightness, happiness, beauty behind her, and\ngoing to an abode of trial\u2014almost privation\u2014which she could hardly regard\nas a home.\n\n\u201cIt is wrong, very wrong in me to feel thus,\u201d Isa murmured to herself.\n\u201cIf visits to the Castle make me discontented, the fewer they are the\nbetter; but it seems to me that my only happy time now will be the time\nspent with Edith. I have nothing at the Castle to wear my spirits, or\nchafe my temper, my cousin is so sweet, my uncle so kind,\u2014when under\ntheir roof I seem to be able to shut out disappointment and care. Ah!\nthat word disappointment, it reminds me of the cottage-lecture which I\nheard this evening. Are the Midianites in possession of my heart? Are\nmy crosses\u2014what I have deemed crosses\u2014rather burdens laid upon me by\nenemies, under whose yoke I should never have stooped?\u201d\n\nAs the carriage rolled on through the darkness, Isa pursued the train\nof her reflections. Disappointment, Discontent, Dissension, Distrust,\nthe Midianites in the soul\u2014was she now harbouring them in her own? Isa\ncould not bear to let her mind dwell long upon the first; even now, after\nthe lapse of years, when she had had too good cause to believe that\nthe idol which she had raised in her heart had been of clay, Isa dare\nhardly own to herself that Lionel had been unworthy of her love, and\nthat his love had not been enduring, because it had contained no element\nof immortality. Shrinking from close self-examination on a subject so\ntender, Isa passed on to that of Discontent; painfully aware as she was\nthat that spirit was struggling within her breast, that she was tempted\nto regard her present lot with emotions of bitterness amounting almost to\nrebellion.\n\n\u201cSaints have been content in poverty, serene in suffering, joyful in\ntribulation,\u2014they have made even dungeon-walls echo to their hymns of\npraise,\u201d thought Isa, \u201cand here am I, with youth, health, competence,\nkind friends, blessings unnumbered and undeserved,\u2014here am I, cast down,\nirritable, murmuring, and depressed, because I dwell in a house which\ndoes not suit my taste, but which is a thousand times more comfortable\nthan those inhabited by most of my poor fellow-creatures. I am annoyed\nat a little petulance from an invalid brother, while many, better\nthan myself, have to endure harshness amounting to cruelty, hatred,\npersecution, and scorn. How have I merited that my trials should be so\nmuch lighter than theirs? Have I any cause to murmur? have I any right\nto complain? Is it well that I should compare my lot with that of the\nfew, instead of that of the many, and give place to ungrateful discontent\ninstead of thanking God that He has bestowed upon me so much more than\nmy due? Why should my thoughts dwell on Edith\u2019s happiness instead of on\nthe misery that I see yet nearer to me in the squalid homes of Wildwaste?\nI must go more amongst the poor; yes, in so doing I shall not only\nobey God\u2019s command, but find weapons against the intrusion of sinful\ndiscontent.\n\n\u201cDissension! I can scarcely say that there is that in my home, though\nthere is, I fear, but little of true affection; and words of impatience\nand looks of coldness make life\u2019s road seem very rough!\u201d The simile\nwas probably suggested to Isa\u2019s mind by the jolting motion of the\ncarriage, for the smooth gravel drive through the baronet\u2019s grounds was\nnow exchanged for the rough road across the common, which was seldom\ntraversed except by the carts, which had left deep ruts in the boggy\nsoil. \u201cBut what was the cause of that intensely bitter feeling which\narose to-day\u2014which always arises in my mind at the bare mention of Cora\nMadden? Why should the remembrance of her be sufficient to drive away\nthe holiest and happiest thoughts? Surely the Midianites are within,\nhatred, malice\u2014nay, I almost fear the spirit of revenge! I sometimes\nfeel such an intense\u2014such an unholy longing for retribution to come upon\nthat woman, that she should taste some of the bitterness of the cup of\nmisery which she has caused me to drink! And are such longings consistent\nwith Christianity? do they not arise from the influence of the spirit of\nevil? While such emotions are harboured in my heart, can there ever be\npeace within? God help me, for my strength is as weakness against such a\nMidianite as this!\n\n\u201cAnd Distrust\u201d\u2014here Isa\u2019s meditations were suddenly brought to a close by\nher arrival at Wildwaste Lodge. The loud, authoritative knock which broke\nin such an unusual manner the stillness which had pervaded that dull\ntenement brought Lottie Stone running in haste to the door. She was a\nshy, black-eyed little maiden, who looked up in timid awe at Sir Digby\u2019s\ntall footman in his splendid livery, but greeted her young mistress with\na smile of rustic simplicity.\n\n\u201cHas your master gone to rest yet?\u201d asked Isa.\n\n\u201cNot yet; he\u2019s a-waiting for you in the study.\u201d\n\nIsa entered her brother\u2019s almost unfurnished apartment. One dull candle\nthrew faint light on bare walls, and a table and chairs that would\nhave looked shabby in a farm-house. On one of the latter (there were\nbut three) was seated Gaspar Gritton. He was a man still in the prime\nof life, but the sallow complexion and stoop consequent on protracted\nill health, made him look several years older than he in reality was.\nGaspar had been rather handsome in youth, and still his features, though\ncontracted, were good; but his eye was dull, and the whole expression of\nhis face unpleasing: it was marked by dissatisfaction and peevishness,\nand more so than usual as Isa entered his study.\n\n\u201cI wish that you would tell those fellows not to startle one by such\nthundering raps,\u201d said the invalid brother.\n\n\u201cI am sorry that the knock disturbed you; its loudness was certainly\ndisproportioned to the occasion,\u201d replied Isa, good-humouredly, as she\nseated herself by her brother; \u201cI will tell John to announce my return in\na more modest manner next time.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know why you should come in a carriage at all. You might have\nwalked home with Lottie and Mrs. Bolder after the meeting was over; the\nnight is perfectly fine. I expected you before half-past eight, and\nnow it is almost eleven.\u201d Gaspar took a pinch of snuff to soothe his\naggrieved feelings, this being the sole luxury in which he habitually\nindulged; his doing so happened unfortunately to be particularly\ndisagreeable to Isa.\n\n\u201cMy uncle kindly wished me to stay the evening with himself and Edith,\nand to pass every day on which lectures are given with them at the\nCastle,\u201d said Isa.\n\n\u201cGadding\u2014always gadding; girls are never satisfied at home,\u201d observed\nGaspar with a sneer.\n\nIsa felt irritated and inclined to make a retort, but she suppressed the\nwords on her tongue, and replied as cheerfully as she could,\u2014\n\n\u201cYou cannot wonder at my liking to meet with some of my nearest\nrelations; and were I to see absolutely nothing beyond our Wildwaste\ndomain, I might grow as antiquated and whimsical as Robinson Crusoe\nhimself. But I fear that you have passed but a dull evening without Isa\nto sing or read to you, Gaspar.\u201d\n\nThe ungracious brother made no reply; he only applied again to his little\nbrown box.\n\n\u201cSir Digby asked me if you would not join his circle,\u201d continued Isa;\n\u201cbut I told him that you did not yet venture to expose yourself to the\nnight air. Was I right? You will, of course, call upon him some morning;\nyou will find him a pleasant acquaintance.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not hunting after acquaintances; I\u2019ve neither health nor spirits\nfor society,\u201d replied Gaspar, rising languidly from his chair; \u201cand as\nfor these grandees of the Castle, I should not find them much in _my_\nline, however much they may be in yours.\u201d\n\nThe brother and sister, after a cold \u201cGood-night,\u201d retired to their\nseveral apartments, Isa asking herself as she ascended the chilly\nstaircase whether it were his fault or her own that she was disappointed\nin Gaspar.\n\nShe found her little servant Lottie awaiting her in her room, ready to\nperform the offices of lady\u2019s-maid, in which the young rustic took great\npride and pleasure. Lottie Stone was a source of amusement as well as\nof interest to Isa; in her simplicity and ignorance she was so utterly\nunlike any of her class whom the lady had met with before. The girl,\npainfully shy before strangers, had a naive frankness with her young\nmistress, which was almost like the confidence of a child. Isa by no\nmeans discouraged this confidence, which gave her much influence over the\nyoung being placed under her care. The rustic knew little of manners, and\nwas once detected in the act of snuffing the candle with her fingers. Isa\nin vain tried to teach her to understand the thermometer by which the\nvaletudinarian regulated the heat of his room, and seemed to have no idea\nof the difference between hot weather and cold. Gaspar used angrily to\ndeclare that Lottie was certain to leave the window open whenever a sharp\neast wind was blowing. In defiance of etiquette, if anything playful\nwere said at table, Lottie Stone was certain to laugh; and she would\nstand, dish in hand, to listen to a lively anecdote related by Isa to her\nbrother, quite oblivious of the fact that the viands were growing cold.\nGently and smilingly Isa corrected the mistakes of the inexperienced\nLottie, and tried to soften down the displeasure of Mr. Gritton, who was\nfar less disposed to show indulgence. Much might be excused, she would\nobserve, in a girl so perfectly honest and truthful: the grain of the\nwood was so good, that it was worth taking the trouble to work it, and\nthe polish would be added in time. Isa encouraged Lottie to open her\nheart to her without reserve: but for this kindly intercourse between\nmistress and maid, the life of the young girl would have had little of\nbrightness, as Hannah, the only other servant, was both ill-tempered\nand deaf. \u201cMiss Isa\u201d was all in all to Lottie, looked up to, beloved\nand obeyed with affectionate devotion. Lottie\u2019s happiest time was the\nhalf-hour spent at night with her mistress; for while she brushed Isa\u2019s\nlong silky tresses, the lady entered into conversation with her. When\nMiss Gritton first trusted her beautiful hair into Lottie\u2019s inexperienced\nhands, she had something to suffer as well as to teach; but pains and\npatience had their usual effect, and it was only when the little maid was\nspeaking of something of special interest that she tried the philosophy\nof her kind young mistress.\n\n[Illustration: ISA AND LOTTIE STONE.]\n\n\u201cSo you were at the lecture to-night, Lottie. I hope that you were\nattentive to all that the clergyman said.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did try to be so, Miss Isa; there were things as I couldn\u2019t make out;\nbut Mrs. Bolder and me, we was talking it over all the way home, and was\nlooking for the Midianites in the heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd did you find any?\u201d asked Isa.\n\n\u201cMrs. Bolder, she was a-saying that it\u2019s very hard to keep out distrust\nwhen things go so contrary in life. She has a deal of trouble, has Mrs.\nBolder, now that her husband\u2019s laid up and crippled with rheumatics, and\nshe\u2019s all the work of the shop upon her; it\u2019s a\u2019most too much for her,\nshe says. She can\u2019t help wondering why God should send such sickness\nand pain to her husband, who was al\u2019ays a good, steady-going man, and a\ntea-totaller,\u201d\u2014Lottie uttered the word almost with reverence; \u201cif he\u2019d\nbeen given to drink it would have been different, you know.\u201d\n\nThe saddened tone of Lottie as she uttered the last sentence reminded\nIsa of what Mr. Eardley had told her of the early trials of this more\nthan orphan girl. A brutal father, addicted to intemperance, had made the\nhovel in which Lottie had passed the first years of her life, a den of\npoverty and woe. Then this father, unworthy of the name, had absconded,\ndeserting an unhappy wife and two children, the elder of whom, a boy,\nfrom physical infirmities and dulness of mind, was yet more helpless\nthan the poor little girl. Mr. Eardley had been for years the earthly\nprotector of the family; he had procured employment for Deborah Stone,\nhad had her children taught in his school, had, as we know, found a place\nfor Lottie as soon as she was able to take one, and had often put such\nwork in the way of her brother as the poor lad was not incapacitated from\nperforming.\n\n\u201cAnd did you find the Midianite Distrust in your own soul also?\u201d asked\nIsa.\n\nThe mournful tone of Lottie changed to a cheerful one as she made reply,\n\u201cOh! as mother says, who\u2019s to trust God if we don\u2019t, when He has\nhelped us through such a many troubles, and given us such kind friends?\nOnly\u2014just\u2014sometimes,\u201d she added more slowly, \u201cwhen I thinks of poor\nfather, then a feeling will come; but I s\u2019pose it\u2019s wrong\u2014God is so\ngood!\u201d and she sighed.\n\nIsa perceived that the shadow of the poor girl\u2019s great trial lay on her\nyoung heart still.\n\n\u201cYou can always pray for your father, Lottie.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do, Miss Isa, I do, morning and evening, and so does mother; and\nsurely God will hear!\u201d cried the girl, brightening up at the thought. \u201cHe\nknows where bees father, though we don\u2019t; and maybe He will bring him\nback to us at last.\u201d\n\nThere was something touching to Isa in the clinging affection of the\nyoung creature towards a parent whom she could not honour, and whom she\nhad so little cause to love.\n\n\u201cAnd did you find any Discontent lurking within?\u201d inquired the lady,\nreturning to the point of conversation from which she had diverged.\n\n\u201cDiscontent!\u201d repeated Lottie, opening her black eyes wide at the\nquestion; \u201cO Miss Isa, how could I\u2014with meat every day, and a whole\nsovereign every quarter? That would be ungrateful indeed! Ah! if you\nknew how we lived here at Wildwaste when I was little, in the cottage\nthat\u2019s been pulled down\u2014close by the \u2018Jolly Gardener\u2019 it was, where the\nschool is a-standing now! We\u2019ve been half the day\u2014mother, brother, and\nI\u2014without breaking a bit of bread; and we might have been the other half\ntoo,\u201d added Lottie, naively, \u201chad not Mrs. Holdich been so kind, and the\ntall gentleman from the Castle, bless him! he brought us nice things from\nhis own table under his cloak.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you speak of Mr. Madden?\u201d asked Isa, with a little tremulousness in\nher tone.\n\n\u201cYes; the best, the kindest gentleman as ever lived\u2014barring Mr. Eardley,\u201d\nsaid Lottie, warmly. \u201cHe was al\u2019ays teaching the children good, and\nlooking arter the poor.\u201d\n\n\u201cLionel Madden,\u201d murmured Isa, dreamily; it was the first time for years\nthat that name had passed her lips.\n\n\u201cOh no, not he!\u201d exclaimed Lottie, in a tone more emphatic than her\nhearer liked, for it conveyed more distinctly than words that Lionel was\none of the last persons likely to play the philanthropist in the manner\ndescribed. \u201cIt was not he, but his brother. Mr. Lionel! he never gave to\nnobody, nor did nothing for nobody as ever I heard of; only,\u201d added the\ngirl, with a little laugh, \u201che switched my brother over the head with his\nriding-whip once, to make him stand out of his way.\u201d\n\nIsa did not care to keep up the conversation; she took up an\nelegantly-bound book which lay on her toilette-table, to convey a hint\nof silence to her little maid-servant. The volume was a collection of\nsacred poetry, and the lady\u2019s eyes rested long and thoughtfully upon the\nwell-known verse on which their gaze first fell as she opened the book.\nIt appeared like a comment on what she had heard that evening on the\nsubject of Disappointment.\n\n    \u201cGood when He gives, supremely good,\n      _Nor less when He denies_;\n    E\u2019en trials from His sovereign hand\n      Are _blessings in disguise_.\u201d\n\nSo, whether she acknowledged the fact or not, had it been in God\u2019s\ndealings with Isa Gritton.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE DEATH-BED MESSAGE.\n\n\nIsa awoke on the following morning with a feeling of oppression on\nher heart, a vague impression that something had been neglected which\nought to have been done, and she connected that something with the\nlecture which she had heard on the preceding day. Several minutes\npassed, however, before she could trace back the links of thought to the\nactual cause of her uneasiness, as it lay out of the general course of\nreflection suggested by the subject of the lecture. Then Isa recalled the\nwords which at the time that she heard them had painfully reminded her\nof a death-bed scene, perhaps the saddest recollection left on a mind\nwhich had had of late much experience of sorrow. \u201cThe Christian may be\ncalled to draw upon himself the anger of men by defending the truth, or\nupholding the cause of the oppressed.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is more than two years,\u201d reflected Isa, \u201csince I received a sacred\ncharge from the dying lips of my dear father; and that charge I have\nnever obeyed. For more than two years may an orphan have been suffering\nwrong on account of my brother, and during all this time I have let\nthe sin rest on his soul. I first put off an explanation till I should\nmeet him; then, when we met, I shrank from doing my duty. I quieted\nconscience with every kind of frivolous excuse; he was too delicate, too\nsensitive, too busy, it would be better to delay speaking till we should\nbe alone together in some peaceful home. We have been alone together, we\nhave passed hours, days, weeks in each other\u2019s society, with nothing to\nhinder me from speaking, except my own cowardly dislike of saying what\nmight probably offend. Surely cowardice like this is another Midianite\nin possession, and I shall never know real peace till I have wrestled it\ndown. Whenever the remembrance of that charge comes over my mind, it is\nlike a cloud darkening the sunshine, and throwing a chill around. God\nhelp me to fulfil at length a neglected duty! I will speak to Gaspar\nbefore this day has passed over.\u201d\n\nTo some strong natures there might have appeared little that was\nformidable in the task before her, but to Isa it was peculiarly painful.\nBrought up as an only daughter, tenderly nurtured from her cradle, she\nhad hardly known what it was to have to encounter even a grave look\nor a hasty word,\u2014Isa had never learned to _endure hardness_. Fond of\npleasing, both from natural kindliness of heart and love of approbation,\nIsa never willingly gave offence; with her to inflict pain was to suffer\nit. Isa delighted in deeds of kindness and works of beneficence; to\ncomfort the sorrowing, or rejoice with the happy was congenial to her\nwomanly spirit; but to restrain, rebuke, oppose\u2014the sterner duties which\nare sometimes assigned to the most gentle of the sex in the battle-field\nof life\u2014cost Isa an effort which can only be appreciated by those of a\ndisposition like her own.\n\nIsa\u2019s heart throbbed uneasily with the feeling that the explanation\nso long dreaded, so long put off, was at hand, as she sat in the\napartment which she called her boudoir, but which was always used as a\nbreakfast-room. The bronze urn was hissing on the table, on which was\nspread a somewhat meagre repast. Awaiting her brother, who was late, Isa\nplaced herself by the window, and gazed forth on the prospect before\nher. There was little to charm in that prospect, even on a bright spring\nday. A tract of common spread in front, dotted with golden patches of\nblossoming furze; but the picturesqueness of heath land was marred by\nthe low-lying hamlet which was the foreground of the landscape. The\ncottages, or rather hovels of Wildwaste, wore an appearance of squalor\nand decay, which was not softened by the charm which moss and lichen and\nclustering ivy can throw around even ruins. They appeared rather falling\nto pieces because originally ill-built, than because they were ancient.\nThe only tenement at Wildwaste which looked in perfect repair, and with\nsome pretension to beauty, was the neat little school-house, erected by\na Madden, but not, as Isa had soon learned from Lottie, either by Lionel\nor by Cora. \u201cHow pleasant,\u201d mused Isa, as she watched the little clusters\nof cottage children entering the low-browed porch\u2014\u201chow pleasant to leave\nbehind such a memorial of a passing visit to a place as that young Arthur\nhas left!\u201d and as she thought of her brother, with his ample means yet\npenurious disposition, she felt painfully how far better it is to possess\nthe heart to give than the money.\n\nThe soap manufactory, lying a little to the right of the prospect, a\nhuge unsightly square-windowed pile of brick and mortar, was a yet more\nconspicuous object than the hamlet of Wildwaste. It stood not two hundred\nyards from Isa\u2019s home, so that when the wind blew from that quarter she\ndared not open the windows to let in the breezes, so polluted were they\nby smoke and evil scent. The only redeeming feature in the landscape seen\nfrom the lodge was the park which skirted the road beyond the common, the\nbeautiful park above whose light leafy screen rose the gray turrets of\nCastle Lestrange. There, indeed, beauty and peace might dwell; thence no\nruder sound would be heard than the cuckoo\u2019s note or the nightingale\u2019s\nsong. Isa\u2019s eyes, overlooking nearer and less pleasing objects,\nconstantly wandered to those verdant woods, those lofty picturesque\ntowers.\n\nGaspar entered the sitting-room with a complaint on his lips against\n\u201ctreacherous weather\u201d on that clear April morn, for he was never weary\nof contrasting the climate of England with that of Jamaica, much to the\ndisadvantage of the former, though the heat of the latter seemed to have\ndried up and withered his frame. He seated himself at the table, and\nbegan cutting the stale loaf (bread at the lodge was always stale), but\ninterrupted himself with the observation, \u201cHow one misses the papers of a\nmorning! Isa, I wish you\u2019d ask your uncle, the baronet, to send over the\n_Times_ every day.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should hardly like to ask that favour,\u201d replied Isa, leaving the\nwindow, and joining her brother at the breakfast-table.\n\n\u201cAnd why not?\u201d inquired Gaspar peevishly; \u201care you afraid of robbing the\nservant\u2019s hall?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Isa, as she occupied herself with the tea-caddy; \u201cbut my\nuncle would naturally think that we might take in a paper for ourselves,\ninstead of putting him to the inconvenience of sending a mile every\nmorning.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m not the idiot to throw away my money on what may be had for the\nasking; you have so much foolish pride,\u201d muttered Mr. Gritton. \u201cI feel\nmyself out of the world where I can\u2019t get a glimpse of the money-market\nor the shipping report.\u201d\n\nThat word \u201cshipping\u201d served as a cue to Isa. While sitting by the window\nshe had been revolving in her mind how she should introduce the subject\nof her father\u2019s dying message to Gaspar. Isa was convinced that her\nlong silence had been sinful, and having \u201cscrewed up her courage to the\nsticking point,\u201d was on the watch for an opportunity of saying what she\nhad determined should be said. Too anxious to make some commencement to\nbe able to do so without the appearance of effort, Isa abruptly remarked,\nin a tone that betrayed a little nervousness, \u201cIs not your interest in\nthe shipping chiefly on account of the _Orissa_?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe _Orissa_?\u201d repeated Mr. Gritton in accents of surprise; \u201cwhy, all\nthe world knows that she foundered nigh four years ago, passengers saved,\ncargo lost, and the greater part uninsured.\u201d\n\n\u201cHad you anything to do with the vessel?\u201d asked Isa, timidly feeling her\nway.\n\nGaspar looked a little embarrassed by the question. \u201cYes\u2014no,\u201d he replied,\nalmost with a stammer. \u201cI might have had a stake in that vessel\u2014I\nthought of having\u2014\u2019twas lucky I had not; there had been such a run for\ncertain goods in the West Indian market, that the cargo was expected to\nbring double its value. But\u2014but you know nothing and care nothing about\nmatters of business,\u201d he added, stretching out his hand for the cup of\ntea which his sister had poured out. \u201cHas the post brought any letters\nthis morning?\u201d\n\nIsa did not suffer the current of conversation to be thus abruptly\nturned. Merely shaking her head in reply to the question, she nerved\nherself to go one step further. \u201cWho was the orphan whose property was in\nsome way or other connected with the _Orissa_?\u201d\n\n\u201cOrphan! what do you mean? Who on earth talked to you about an orphan?\u201d\nIsa felt\u2014for she dared not look up\u2014that her brother\u2019s eyes were keenly\nscrutinising her face.\n\n\u201cBetter have the whole truth out at once,\u201d thought poor Isa, who, in\nher nervousness, was emptying the milk-jug into the tea-pot. \u201cThe fact\nis, dear Gaspar,\u201d she said, speaking with rapidity and a sensation of\nbreathlessness, \u201cI have been anxious for a long time to talk to you about\nsome words uttered by our beloved father a very, very short time before\nwe lost him. When he was almost too ill to speak, he said\u201d\u2014Isa pressed\nher forehead as if to collect her thoughts\u2014\u201che said, \u2018Gaspar\u2014you will be\nwith him\u2014the _Orissa_\u2014not her money lost\u2014tell him from me;\u2019 the dear lips\nhad not power to finish the sentence.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid my father say anything more than these words?\u201d asked Gaspar, who saw\nfrom the quivering of Isa\u2019s lashes and the trembling of her lip that she\nat least attached some importance to the fragmentary message.\n\nIsa pressed her hands very tightly together; she could hardly articulate\nthe broken sentences\u2014\u201cHe said, \u2018_something wrong_\u2014he should deal fairly\nby that orphan\u2019\u2014I can remember no more.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE CONVERSATION AT BREAKFAST.]\n\nGaspar rose abruptly from his seat and walked to the window. Isa felt the\nbrief silence which followed almost unendurable, and yet was thankful\nthat she had been enabled to speak out the whole truth at last. After a\nfew seconds Gaspar returned to his seat, and with a rapid\u2014Isa fancied a\nslightly tremulous utterance\u2014thus addressed his sister:\u2014\n\n\u201cIsa, your ears deceived you\u2014your memory is at fault\u2014or\u2014or there was\na wandering of mind at the last. You shall know exactly how the case\nlies. A young lady, known to my father and myself, had some thousands of\npounds which she wished to invest, four years ago, during my short visit\nto England. My father was consulted on the business. There was a sudden\ndemand for a particular kind of goods in the West Indies; money invested\nin them might double itself if no time were lost; the girl was eager\nto increase her property\u2014natural enough,\u2014I was employed in making the\narrangement\u2014ship went down\u2014goods uninsured\u2014she had staked her property,\nand lost it. This was no fault of mine; you might blame the captain or\nthe crew, or the winds and the waves; I was never blamed by Cora Madden\nherself.\u201d\n\n\u201cCora Madden!\u201d ejaculated Isa.\n\n\u201cYou know the whole truth now,\u201d said Gaspar; \u201clet us never come on the\nsubject again.\u201d\n\nIsa felt bewildered by the sudden disclosure of the name of the orphan\nin whom she had taken such painful interest; so much so, that she\ncould hardly tell at that time whether the explanation of Gaspar were\nsatisfactory or not to her mind. When the name of Cora was uttered, Isa\u2019s\nsurprise had made her for a moment look full in the face of her brother,\nand that face\u2014which had been almost ghastly\u2014had become suffused with a\ncolour which she had never before seen upon it, and the eyes of Gaspar\nhad instantly sunk beneath the gaze of her own. Isa hardly noticed this\nin the excitement of the instant, but it afterwards often recurred to her\nmind, with an ever-strengthening persuasion that her brother had _not_\ntold her all.\n\nThe subject of the death-bed message was dropped, but Isa felt during\nthe remainder of that morning that her brother\u2019s nerves had been shaken,\nand that his spirits were utterly out of tune; and she could not but\nrefer this to its natural cause\u2014the conversation at breakfast. Nothing\npleased Mr. Gritton: the tea was bitter, cold, undrinkable; the room full\nof draughts; Lottie a useless idiot, and Mr. Eardley little better for\nhaving ever recommended her. Isa came in for her full share of peevish\nreproach, almost more difficult to be borne than angry rebuke. It was\na great relief to the young lady when her companion at length quitted\nher boudoir to go down to his accounts, though Isa well knew that these\naccounts would afford a new cause of grievance, and that all her care to\nmanage household affairs with strict economy would not prevent pettish\nremarks on the extravagance of the Saturday bills.\n\n\u201cI shall not be able to endure this kind of life long,\u201d murmured Isa to\nherself, as she returned from ordering dinner, having had to encounter\nthe ill-temper of Hannah, who, while her master inveighed against\nreckless extravagance, complained on the other hand that there were \u201csome\nladies as think that their servants can live upon nothing.\u201d \u201cI was never\nmade to bear all this constant fret and worry,\u201d sighed the discouraged\nIsa; \u201cthis perpetual effort to please, without the possibility of\nsucceeding in doing so.\u201d Isa was, like so many others, tempted to\nthink that the post in which Providence had placed her was not the one\nthat suited her; that she would _do_ better, _be_ better in another.\nDisappointment, discontent, distrust, had not been driven forth from her\nheart. Again Isa seated herself by the window which commanded a view of\nthe towers of Lestrange, feeling disinclined to settle to any occupation,\nto take up her work, or to finish her book.\n\nA visit from Edith made a delightful break on the dreary solitude of Isa.\n\n\u201cI have come with a message from papa, dear Isa,\u201d cried the baronet\u2019s\ndaughter, after an affectionate greeting had passed between the cousins;\n\u201che has charged me to carry you back captive with me to the Castle, to\nremain there as long as we can make our prisoner happy. Oh, don\u2019t make\nresistance\u2014lay down your arms and surrender at once!\u201d The pleading eyes\nseconded well the playful petition of the lips.\n\nA prisoner! nay, to Isa the invitation came like an offer of freedom\nto one in irksome bondage. Her countenance lighted up with pleasure. \u201cI\nshould gladly surrender to so generous a foe,\u201d she replied, \u201conly\u2014my\nbrother\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will let me carry you off, I am sure that he will,\u201d cried Edith.\n\n\u201cI will go and ask him,\u201d said Isa, hastily rising and quitting the room.\n\nEdith, left thus alone, looked around the boudoir of her cousin with\nmingled pity and surprise. \u201cPoor Isa, is this her abode? so small, so\nwretchedly furnished, so dreary and bare. And what a view from the\nwindow!\u201d added the heiress, as she sauntered up to the casement; \u201cthe\nvery look of those tumble-down cottages would make one miserable; and as\nfor that hideous manufactory, it would spoil the fairest landscape in\nthe world. No wonder that Isa was not able to echo my words when I said,\n\u2018There is no place like home.\u2019\u201d\n\nIsa soon returned with her brother\u2019s permission for her to accompany her\ncousin, a permission which he could hardly have withheld. Edith knew not\nhow ungraciously it had been accorded, how bitterly Gaspar had remarked,\n\u201cI knew that you would never care to stay quietly here with an invalid\nbrother.\u201d\n\n\u201cHad he been like a brother to me,\u201d was Isa\u2019s mental comment when she\nquitted the room, \u201cno pleasure would have drawn me from his side.\u201d\nNevertheless Mr. Gritton\u2019s observation gave pain to his sister, and so\ndid the distressed look on the face of Lottie, when hastily summoned to\nhelp her young mistress in her preparations for quitting the Lodge.\n\n\u201cO Miss Isa, I hope you\u2019ll not be long away; we\u2019ll be just lost without\nyou;\u201d and Isa saw that moisture rose in Lottie\u2019s black eyes.\n\nIsa returned with Edith to the Castle, where she was graciously received\nby her stately uncle. Two beautiful rooms, exquisitely furnished, one\nopening into the other, had been assigned to her; none in the Castle\ncommanded a more beautiful prospect. Swiftly the hours rolled by amidst\nvaried occupations. Cheerful was the afternoon saunter in the park with\nEdith, and the little dinner-party in the evening, when Isa met with\ncongenial society. Pleasant on the following morning was the drive to the\ndistant church, and very refreshing to the spirit the sacred service,\nconducted with none of the lifeless formality which cast such a chill\nover Isa\u2019s devotion in the church which she had attended with Gaspar.\nDelightful was the evening converse with Edith; converse on high and holy\nthemes. Then, on the Monday morning, Isa much enjoyed visiting with her\nsweet young cousin some of the dwellings of Sir Digby\u2019s poorer tenants,\nbearing little delicacies to invalids from the baronet\u2019s luxurious table.\nAll these employments were in themselves innocent and good, and to Isa\nwould have afforded unmixed gratification, but for a feeling which would\nintrude itself on her mind, that she was where she liked to be rather\nthan where she ought to be\u2014that even her holiest pleasures were rather\nof her own taking than of God\u2019s bestowing. Whenever Gaspar or Wildwaste\nwere mentioned, a slightly uncomfortable sensation was experienced by\nIsa. Well she knew that her presence was more needed in the dreary Lodge\nthan in the stately Castle; more by the peevish invalid than by the happy\nyoung girl; a brother, an only brother, had a stronger claim on her\ncare than a cousin. Isa suspected, though she cared not to search for\nconfirmation of the suspicion, that Self-indulgence was another Midianite\nin possession of her soul.\n\nSo passed the time till Tuesday brought the little meeting in the\ncottage of Holdich, which the cousins attended. The first face which\nIsa caught sight of on entering the crowded room was that of her maid,\nLottie Stone, beaming with an expression of honest pleasure at seeing her\nmistress again. Isa and Edith were a little late in joining the meeting,\nthe former had therefore no opportunity of speaking to Lottie till the\nlecture and prayers were over.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nLECTURE II.\u2014FAITH IN THE PROMISE.\n\n\nWe left Gideon at his lowly task, threshing corn by the wine-press to\nbide it from the Midianites. The Israelite lifted up his eyes, and,\nbehold, One stood before him, clothed in human form, and yet nor man nor\nangel; for from the words which He afterwards uttered, such as no created\nbeing dare have breathed, we recognize in Him the eternal Son of God. As\nthe Lord appeared to Abraham in the plains of Mamre, to Jacob by the ford\nof Jabbok, to Moses on the height of Sinai, so appeared He now to Gideon\nbeneath the oak-tree of Ophrah. Unconscious of the divinity of his Guest,\nGideon still appears to have received with reverence the greeting of the\nmysterious stranger, as though aware that He came as a messenger from the\nMost High.\n\n\u201cThe Lord is with thee, thou mighty man of valour!\u201d was the salutation\nof the Holy One to the son of a despised and persecuted race.\n\n\u201cOh my Lord,\u201d exclaimed Gideon, \u201cif the Lord be with us, why then is all\nthis befallen us? and where be all the miracles which our fathers told\nof, saying, Did not the Lord bring us up from Egypt? But now the Lord\nhath forsaken us, and delivered us into the hand of the Midianites.\u201d\n\nHow often must such thoughts have passed through the mind of Gideon\nbefore they thus found vent in words. Faith, sorely tried by present\ntrouble, was trying to draw from memories of the past hope for the\nfuture. God, who had crushed the pride of Pharaoh, and led His people\nforth from Egyptian bondage, would He not now save and avenge? There\nhad been miracles of old; such mercies as had been experienced by the\nfathers, might they not also be reserved for the children? Was the Lord\u2019s\narm shortened that it could not save; was He unmindful of the groans of\nHis people? Oh, why had He forsaken Israel, and given His heritage unto\nreproach?\n\n\u201cAnd the Lord looked upon Gideon, and said, Go in this thy might, and\nthou shalt save Israel from the hand of the Midianites: have I not sent\nthee?\u201d\n\nLet us dwell for a few moments on the words, _The Lord looked upon\nGideon_. Thrice in the Scriptures do we read of a look from Him who\nbeholdeth all things in heaven and earth. In one sense the omniscient\nGod is for ever gazing down upon His creation; from Him ocean depths are\nno hiding-place, and midnight darkness no screen. The eyes of the Lord\nare in every place, beholding the evil and the good. But on some special\noccasions God\u2019s glance has in a peculiar way been directed upon man, as\nthe sunbeams that shine on all may be concentrated in the focus of a\nburning-glass to kindle or to destroy. The Lord _looked_ from the pillar\nof cloud upon the Egyptians, and they were troubled\u2014they felt God\u2019s wrath\nin that gaze; the Lord _looked_ upon Gideon, and in that glance was new\ncourage and strength; the Lord _looked_ upon Peter, and beneath that gaze\nof divine compassion and love his heart was broken and melted, and fast\nflowed his penitential tears. Have we ever known the power of that look\nin our hearts, to crush our sins, to encourage our faith, to bring us in\ndeep contrition to the feet of our merciful Lord?\n\nGideon, like Moses before him, seems to have shrunk from the post of high\nhonour to which he was called by God; like Moses, he thought of his own\nunfitness instead of the almighty power of Him who can employ\u2014and often\ndoes employ\u2014feeble instruments to accomplish the most noble and difficult\nworks. \u201cOh my Lord,\u201d he cried, \u201cwherewith shall I save Israel? Behold,\nmy family is poor in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father\u2019s house.\u201d\nBefore honour is humility; had Gideon been great or wise in his own\neyes, we may well believe that God would have passed him by, to choose\none of a lowlier spirit to be the leader of Israel\u2019s hosts.\n\n\u201cSurely I will be with thee,\u201d said the Lord, \u201cand thou shalt smite the\nMidianites as one man.\u201d\n\nStill Gideon appears to have hesitated; perhaps a doubt lingered on his\nmind as to the nature of Him who spake as having authority, but who as\nyet had wrought no miracle to prove his divine commission. \u201cIf now I have\nfound grace in Thy sight,\u201d said Gideon, \u201cthen show me a sign that Thou\ntalkest with me. Depart not hence, I pray Thee, until I come unto Thee,\nand bring forth my present, and set it before Thee.\u201d And the Holy One\nsaid, \u201cI will tarry till thou come again.\u201d\n\nThen\u2014like his father Abraham, glad to entertain the heavenly Guest\u2014Gideon\nmade ready a feast. He prepared a kid, and unleavened cakes, and brought\nthem forth to the Lord, who had graciously awaited his return under the\noak of Ophrah\u2014a spot which became as a temple consecrated by His divine\npresence.\n\nThe Holy One bade Gideon lay the food on the rock, and pour out the\nbroth. What man designed for a feast, God would receive as a sacrifice.\nWith the end of the staff which was in His hand the sacred Guest touched\nthe flesh and the unleavened cakes, and the stone on which they lay\nbecame as an altar. Fire arose from the rock and consumed the offering\nof Gideon, and the divine Being\u2014who had thus accepted as God what was\npresented to Him as man\u2014vanished out of the sight of His servant.\n\n[Illustration: THE SACRIFICE.]\n\nThe first emotion of the astonished Gideon seems to have been that of\nterror. \u201cAlas! O Lord God,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cbecause I have seen an angel\nof the Lord face to face.\u201d\n\nA gracious promise of love came in answer to that cry of fear; we know\nnot whether the divine voice sounded in the mortal\u2019s ear, or but spoke\nwith mysterious power in his soul. The Lord said unto Gideon, \u201cPeace be\nunto thee, fear not; thou shalt not die.\u201d\n\nThen, in that holy spot where the Lord had deigned to appear in human\nguise, Gideon built an altar, and called it _Jehovah shallum_, which is,\n_The Lord send peace_.\n\nAnd now, beloved friends, let us apply to our hearts the lessons\ncontained in this portion of the history of Gideon. Hath not the Lord\nappeared unto us with a promise of help and deliverance, if we in His\nmight will struggle against the enemies within? He comes to us not only\nin the house of prayer, not only in seasons of holy communion, but when\nwe, like Gideon, are following the common occupations of life. His eye\nis fixed upon us in tender compassion, and His message to the lowly\nChristian entering on the battle-field of life is this: _Go in this thy\nmight: have I not sent thee? I will be with thee._\n\nLet us glean from the Scriptures some promises of this blessing of the\nLord\u2019s peculiar presence with His people. To those obeying His command\nto preach the gospel amongst all nations, how precious through centuries\nof toil and peril has been the gracious assurance: _Lo, I am with you\nalway, even unto the end of the world_. To those almost sinking under the\nheavy trials of life, how full of comfort is the promise: _Fear thou not;\nfor I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God. I will strengthen\nthee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand\nof My righteousness._ Through life, even unto the grave, the power of\nthat promise extends, so that the Christian can add in lowly trust: _Yea,\nthough I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no\nevil: for Thou art with me_.\n\nBut who are they who can thus take to themselves the precious promises\nof Christ? They who have come to Him in lowly faith; or rather, they to\nwhom the Lord hath come in the power of redeeming love. In the history\nof Gideon we see a type of the Lord\u2019s dealings with His people. He\nis found of them that sought Him not; He comes to the sorrowful, the\noppressed, the tempted, and offers to them the free deliverance which\nHis mercy alone can bestow. We have nothing to give the sacred Guest\nbut the offering of a sin-stained heart, a heart wholly unworthy of His\nacceptance, _till He touch it_, as He touched the offering of Gideon, and\nthe flame of divine love is kindled, and the sacrifice of a broken and\ncontrite heart becomes acceptable unto the Lord. Then, like Gideon, may\nwe raise our altar with grateful thanksgiving; and, while preparing for\nthe struggle with indwelling sin, feel assured that the Lord will \u201csend\npeace.\u201d\n\nWe are also reminded, by this transient visit of the Son of God to the\nworld, of His longer sojourn with the children of Israel, when for more\nthan thirty-three years the Redeemer waited on earth till the bitter\ncup should be filled to the brim\u2014till the great Sacrifice should be\noffered\u2014and then ascended to His Father in heaven, thereby granting\nadditional proof of His divinity to His adoring people. \u201cThe Lord send\npeace,\u201d was the name given by Gideon to his altar, and our Lord\u2019s words\non the night before His crucifixion sound like a response to that name:\n_Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world\ngiveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it\nbe afraid._\n\nBut what is the promised peace? To Gideon his heavenly Visitor had spoken\nof conflict: \u201cGo in this thy might; thou shalt smite the Midianites as\none man.\u201d In this command to Gideon, my brethren, we hear our Master\u2019s\ncharge to ourselves, and learn what it is that can give us strength to\nobey that charge. The Christian is promised peace, but it is such as may\nbe realized to some degree even in the midst of conflict; and it is that\npeace which, after conflict, in its perfection crowneth victory.\n\nThe Midianites within must be conquered, and the might which conquers\nis from God. If disappointment blight our hopes, discontent fret our\nspirits, dissension mar our peace, distrust shrink from expected\ntrials, we must yet lift up our eyes unto the hills from whence cometh\nour help\u2014we must yet ask, and we shall receive, the grace which can\nsupply all our need, and enable us to rise above the infirmities of\nthe flesh, the weakness of our fallen nature. Let us trust fearlessly,\nlet us trust alone in the might of our Lord. As long as we remain in\npresumptuous self-confidence, the Midianites rest in possession; when we\ncast ourselves in earnest prayer at the feet of the Saviour, He maketh us\n_more than conquerors_.\n\nWe contemplated Faith, when last we met here, as the tree which in winter\nstands bare of foliage, black and leafless, yet with life within it. With\nGideon now that tree had felt the warm breath of spring\u2014the Lord had\nlooked upon it, and the living sap had risen under the beams of the Sun\nof Righteousness; the green leaves of hope were budding on the boughs.\nGideon had not as yet conquered his foes, but the Lord had promised that\nhe should do so, and the expectation of triumph was before him.\n\nChristian brethren, let us also rejoice in help, and so gird ourselves\nup for the struggle before us, taking as the motto on our banner, _Go\nin this thy might_, and as the cordial to our weak fainting hearts the\npromise, _I will be with thee_.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nA SERMON BY THE FIRESIDE.\n\n\nIsa stopped to speak a few words to Lottie after the short service was\nended.\n\n\u201cO Miss Isa, I do hope you won\u2019t be away long,\u201d cried the young girl,\nlooking up into the face of her mistress with a pleading expression; \u201cwe\ndo miss you so sadly!\u201d\n\n\u201cIs my brother better?\u201d asked Isa.\n\n\u201cMaster shuts himself up a deal in his room, and don\u2019t care to be\ndisturbed, and seems worried like\u2014he do,\u201d replied Lottie with rustic\nsimplicity, and in a tone from which Isa too readily gathered that\nneither Gaspar\u2019s spirits nor his temper had improved since her departure.\n\u201cO Miss Isa, I wish you\u2019d come back!\u201d\n\n\u201cTell my brother that, without fail, I\u2019ll come and see him to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd stay with him?\u201d asked Lottie, anxiously.\n\nIsa hesitated for a moment, but she could not bring herself to say\n\u201cYes.\u201d There was to be on the following evening another of those\ndelightful little parties at the Castle, at which Isa anticipated that\nshe would enjoy one of the sweetest and purest of pleasures, that of\nconverse with the intellectual, the refined, and the good\u2014converse that\ngratifies at once the mind and the heart. Isa was little disposed to\nexchange such pleasure for a dull, cheerless evening at the Lodge, spent\nbeside a peevish valetudinarian, who would neither appreciate nor thank\nher for the sacrifice. No; she would make a compromise with conscience;\nshe would give the morning to her brother, and doubly enjoy the evening\nfrom the consciousness of having performed an irksome duty. Isa sent\nby Lottie a message to her brother, and then, only half satisfied with\nherself, returned with Edith to the Castle.\n\nLottie walked silently for a little time beside Mrs. Bolder, the grocer\u2019s\nwife, who was always the young girl\u2019s companion to and from the evening\nmeeting. Lottie broke the silence by a sigh.\n\n\u201cOh, but the house has grown dull and lonesome!\u201d she murmured. \u201cHalf of\nthe pleasure of going to the lecture was to talk it over after, and have\nthe hard things explained.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t find old Hannah much of a companion, I suppose.\u201d\n\n\u201cHannah!\u201d repeated Lottie dolefully; \u201cshe never speaks to me but to\nchide; nor does master, for the matter of that. Oh, how I does miss dear\nmother and brother! there\u2019s no one near me as cares for me, now that Miss\nIsa\u2019s away. I\u2019m afeard that the Midianite Discontent is creeping in after\nall.\u201d Poor Lottie, with her warm, impulsive, affectionate nature, found\neven the \u201cmeat every day, and a sovereign a quarter,\u201d insufficient to\nbrighten her solitary lot.\n\n\u201cWe ought to have learned this evening how to get rid of the Midianite,\u201d\nobserved quiet Mrs. Bolder, but in a melancholy tone, for she herself was\noppressed with cares, and had by nature little spirit to struggle against\nthem.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Lottie more cheerfully; \u201c_I will be with thee_, that is a\nwonderful word! I will repeat it over and over to myself, when I lie\ndown, and when I get up, and when I\u2019m about my work. We should never feel\nlonesome or sad when the dear Lord says, _I will be with thee_: with us\nall through our lives; and then when the time comes for us to die, we\nknow that we shall be _with Him_.\u201d\n\nThe same promise which strengthened a warrior of old for heroic deeds,\ncheered and encouraged a little servant maid in her path of humble toil.\nLottie trod more lightly on her way when she thought of Gideon and his\nheavenly Guest.\n\nMrs. Bolder, after she had parted from Lottie, turned towards the single\nshop in the hamlet of Wildwaste, which was kept by herself and her\nhusband. The shutters were up, so she saw no light, but the door was upon\nthe latch, and she entered through the shop into the little back-parlour\nwhere Tychicus Bolder, seated by the fire, was awaiting his wife\u2019s return\nfrom the meeting.\n\nSadly poor Miriam looked on what she called \u201cthe wreck of such a fine\nman!\u201d Over the hard-featured, smoke-dried looking face of Bolder,\nwrinkled with many a line traced by care and pain, hung the white hair,\nstreaked here and there with iron gray. His beard had grown long, and lay\non his sunken chest; his back was bowed, his knees drawn up, as he sat\nwith his feet on the fender, with a black shawl of his wife\u2019s wrapped\nround his rheumatic frame. Bolder could not turn his head without pain;\nbut he bade his wife shut the door, come and sit beside him, and tell him\nall about the parson\u2019s lecture.\n\n\u201cOh, how different it was in the days when it was you that went, and you\nthat had the telling\u2014you who can talk like a parson yourself!\u201d sighed\nMrs. Bolder, as she stirred the fire, which was getting low, as Bolder\nhad no power to stir it himself.\n\n\u201cWife,\u201d said Bolder solemnly, \u201cyou\u2019ve been to a lecture, and I dare say\na good one, for I think more of Mr. Eardley now than I did in old times;\nbut I\u2019ve had my sermon too, as I sat here by the fire, and my preacher\nwas one as spoke with more power than Mr. Eardley, or any other parson\nunder the sun!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: MR. AND MRS. BOLDER.]\n\n\u201cWhy, who can have been here?\u201d exclaimed Mrs. Bolder, glancing towards\nthe door.\n\n\u201cSit down, wife, and I\u2019ll tell you all,\u201d said Tychicus Bolder. \u201cWhen you\nhad gone out, and I was left alone with my pain\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sure I\u2019d gladly have stayed with you,\u201d interrupted Miriam; \u201cI went\nbecause you told me to go.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it\u2014I know it\u2014I sent you. Well, as I sat here alone with my pain,\nI began turning over in my mind what you\u2019d told me of the last lecture,\nof the Midianites in possession. Ay, thinks I, I have them all here,\nevery one of the four. There\u2019s Disappointment; for wasn\u2019t I a thriving\nman, and looking to get up higher and higher in the world\u2014leave this\nplace and take a larger business in Axe\u2014till this sickness came, and\npulled me back, and made it hard enough to struggle on here!\u201d\n\nMrs. Bolder mournfully shook her head.\n\n\u201cAnd isn\u2019t there Discontent; for it has often seemed as if the pain, and\nthe weakness, and the helplessness were a\u2019most more than man could bear!\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sure that no man could bear them more\u2014\u201d Miriam stopped in the midst\nof her sentence, less from a doubt as to its perfect truth than because\nshe saw that her husband did not wish to be interrupted; so she relapsed\ninto her usual position\u2014that of a listener.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s Dissension, for I feel ready to quarrel with all the world; and\nDistrust, for I can\u2019t bring myself to think that I\u2019ve not been hardly\ndealt with. Now if, as the parson said, all these enemies are most like\nto come, like the Midianites, to a soul where there\u2019s been an idol set\nup, where was the idol in mine? You see, wife, pain and loneliness set an\nold man thinking.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou never had an idol,\u201d said the wife; \u201cin the midst of such a drunken,\ndisorderly, quarrelsome set as we have here in Wildwaste, you took the\npledge, and kept it too\u2014never a drop of the poison wetted your lips;\nthere\u2019s not many a man would have kept steady, standing all alone as you\ndid. And then you didn\u2019t worship Mammon; no man can say of you that your\nmoney was not honestly earned\u2014every penny that you took in.\u201d\n\n\u201cBating a few overcharges,\u201d muttered Bolder; \u201con the whole, I did keep my\nhands pretty clean.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you was so religious, too; knew your Bible so well, could have done\nfor a preacher yourself. If a parson made a mistake, or wasn\u2019t quite\nsound in the doctrine, you was the man who could set him right; you was\nsuch a judge of a sermon!\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought myself so,\u201d said Bolder.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t make out the reason why God sends you all these troubles,\u201d\npursued the admiring wife, \u201cunless it be as He let them come to Job,\n\u2019cause he was better than any one else, and God wanted to try his\npatience.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, wife, it\u2019s all very well that you should think this,\u201d said Bolder,\nin his peculiar tone of decision, \u201cI was ready enough to think it myself;\nbut when I came this evening to turn the matter over as I sat here alone,\nI could not look at things just in the same light as before. I found\nthis soul of mine all full of what the parson calls Midianites; I had\nnot noticed one of \u2019em when I was in health and prosperity, but when\ntroubles came, then came they, like the birds of prey round a sick sheep\nas it lies in the field. Then I set to thinking what idol I could have\nset up when all things seemed going well with me;\u2014no, don\u2019t interrupt\nme, Miriam\u2014I was certain there had been something wrong. And then an\nold anecdote came into my mind, which I\u2019d heard many years back, but\nwhich I\u2019d never really understood\u2014I mean with my heart, not my head. It\nwas about a young parson who was talking on religion to an old pious\nploughman as they walked together in a field. Says the parson, \u2018The\nhardest thing is to deny sinful self.\u2019 \u2018Nay, sir,\u2019 said the ploughman,\n\u2018the hardest thing, I take it, is to deny _righteous_ self.\u2019 Why, here,\nthinks I, is the key to the whole matter. Here have I been living in\nWildwaste, counting myself an example to all the people around, thanking\nGod, like the Pharisee, that I was a deal better than other men, sitting\nin judgment even at church, setting up a great idol of self. And so God\nhas let the enemies come in, just to show me that I am not the saint that\nI took myself for, just to set me crying to Him for help, to bring me to\nsay, what else I had never said, _I abhor myself, and repent in dust and\nashes_.\u201d\n\nMrs. Bolder, who had been accustomed to look up to her husband as a kind\nof infallible pope in his home, one whose wisdom should never be doubted,\nwhose opinions should never be disputed, could not at once alter her\nlong-cherished ideas, but only ventured to express dissent by a little\nmournful shake of the head.\n\n\u201cI was always ready enough to judge others,\u201d continued Bolder, \u201cbut it\nwas a new thing for me to judge myself. I was quick enough to see God\u2019s\njustice in punishing other men, but when the rod came upon myself, then\nhis dealings seemed hard. I could almost exult when the publican\u2019s house\nwas burned and he ruined, or when the poor guilty wretch was smothered in\nthe bog;\u2014that was righteous vengeance, said I. But when my own comfort\nwas touched, when trouble came to my home, I could neither see mercy nor\njustice, and fierce, rebellious, unbelieving thoughts swept, like the\nMidianites, right over my soul.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Bolder,\u201d said the anxious wife (she never ventured to address him by\nhis Christian name), \u201cI shall never like to leave you so long again, for\nI\u2019m sure and certain that being alone is bad for your spirits.\u201d\n\n\u201cWife, I was no more alone than Gideon was when the angel came to him\nunder the oak. I told you that a powerful preacher had been here, and\nI told you nought but the truth. The Lord has been preaching to this\nproud heart; and if you wish to know the text, it was this, _Unless ye\nbe converted, and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter\nthe kingdom of heaven_. There be many mansions there, but not one for\nthe self-righteous Pharisee. I had thought myself a long way on the road\nto heaven, and I found I\u2019d to go back every step of the way, and begin\nat the beginning. If it had not been for what God has shown me, through\nsickness and trouble, of the evil lurking in my heart, I might have gone\non blind and self-confident to the last, and never have had my eyes\nopened at all\u2014till the terrible Day of Judgment.\u201d\n\nIt is doubtful whether Tychicus Bolder\u2019s words convinced his wife, but\nat least they silenced her, and she could feel that the change which had\npassed over the proud, opinionative man was a change for the better; he\nwas more patient and resigned under suffering, and far less disposed\nto pass a sweeping sentence of condemnation on all his neighbours in\nWildwaste. When Bolder began to judge himself, he became less ready to\njudge others; humility and charity are twin-sisters, and constantly\nwalk hand-in-hand. Tychicus himself regarded that evening of quiet\nheart-searching as a crisis in his life; the Lord had visited his soul,\nand had left a blessing and a promise behind.\n\nAnd is not this the history of many a human heart? The great enemy,\never on the watch to destroy, forms temptations of the very virtues of\nmen, leading them, as it were, to make a raft of their own honesty,\ntemperance, respectability, alms-giving, so that, trusting on that to\nstem the flood, they may not seek refuge in the only Ark that can bear\nthem to a heavenly shore. The Almighty, on the other hand, making _all_\nthings to work together for the good of His people, even their very\nfailures and imperfections, shows them the hollowness and rottenness\nof all on which they rested, that they may not trust their soul\u2019s\nsafety to anything but the merits and mercies of Christ. Praise, even\nfrom the lips of his heavenly Master, seems to have led St. Peter into\npresumption, so that the _Blessed art thou_ had soon to be followed by\nthe _Get thee behind me, Satan_; while through the guilt of a three-fold\ndenial the apostle was led, by God\u2019s grace, to earnest repentance,\ndistrust of himself, and more fervent love to his pardoning Lord. Thus\nGod still enables a David to slay Goliath with his own sword. But for\nthe visitation of the Midianites, grievous and evil as it was in itself,\nGideon would perhaps never have been blessed with the visit of the angel\nof the Lord.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE SISTER\u2019S VISIT.\n\n\nIsa did not fail to keep her promise. Finding that Mrs. Holdich was about\nto visit Wildwaste on the following morning, Isa availed herself of her\nescort; for the people of the hamlet were so rough, that the young lady\ndisliked crossing the common alone. Rebekah Holdich carried with her a\nremedy for rheumatism, which she hoped might relieve the sufferings of\nBolder. The steward\u2019s wife was the general doctress of the neighbourhood;\nto her, as to their natural friend, came all who had sorrow or sickness\nin their homes, just as any labourer in difficulty or distress was sure\nto seek the advice and help of her husband.\n\nIsa Gritton entered into conversation with Rebekah, who was a woman of\neducation and refinement beyond what might be expected from one in her\nstation of life.\n\n\u201cI find,\u201d observed Isa, \u201cthat you were the first friend of my little\nmaid Lottie, that it was you who taught her to read, and first led her to\nthink of her soul, or rather to know that she had such a thing as a soul.\u201d\n\n\u201cI was very sorry for the poor little child; she had a most wretched\nhome,\u201d replied Mrs. Holdich.\n\n\u201cIs it true that her father was of such a very violent temper?\u201d\n\n\u201cSo violent when he had been drinking,\u201d said Rebekah, \u201cthat I have seen\nthe poor child disfigured for weeks from blows received from her father;\nand as for her unhappy mother, there is not a doubt that she would have\nbeen actually killed by Abner Stone in one of his drunken fits, had not\nMr. Madden nobly saved her life at the peril of his own. The ruffian was\ngoing to dash out her brains with a poker.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd Mr. Lionel came forward\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, not Mr. Lionel,\u201d said Mrs. Holdich with a smile; \u201cI am not aware\nthat he ever entered a cottage; it was his younger brother, who is now\nlabouring for God in the Holy Land, he who built the pretty school-house\nat Wildwaste, who saved poor Deborah\u2019s life. The beautiful carvings from\nBethlehem which you saw in our cottage were sent to me by him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat has become of Lottie\u2019s father?\u201d asked Isa, after having walked on\nfor some minutes in silence.\n\n\u201cNo one knows,\u201d replied Rebekah. \u201cAbner Stone suddenly disappeared from\nthis part of the country, after a gentleman had been found lying on the\nroad, having been knocked off his horse by a highwayman. It is more than\nsuspected that Stone did the deed, but fled on hearing some one come up\nto the spot.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is strange,\u201d observed Isa, \u201cthat Lottie could speak with tenderness\nof such a parent; her eyes filled with tears when she expressed her hopes\nthat God would one day bring him back.\u201d\n\n\u201cHer mother will never hear a word spoken against him,\u201d said Rebekah.\n\u201cPoor Deborah Stone is a true, faithful wife, and I believe prays night\nand day for the return of a husband whom she has loved through such\ntrials as few but herself could have borne. I cannot help thinking,\u201d\npursued the steward\u2019s gentle wife, \u201cthat there must have been some good\neven in Abner when he was sober; it is the fatal habit of drinking which\nmakes a savage even of a kind-hearted man.\u201d\n\n\u201cLottie was looking sad yesterday evening at the lecture,\u201d observed Isa.\n\n\u201cMaybe the poor child frets after her mother and brother,\u2014they were never\nseparated before; they have clung together through sorrow and hardship,\nand Lottie may feel lonely at first away from her home, though it is but\na poor one.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not easy to arrange for the family to meet,\u201d said Isa. \u201cMrs.\nStone has to earn her own living, and Axe is at least six miles from\nWildwaste.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope that you will not mind my mentioning it, Miss Gritton,\u201d said\nRebekah, in a deferential tone, \u201cbut our little open cart is going on\nSaturday to Axe to bring our Ned to pass the Sunday with us,\u201d\u2014Mrs.\nHoldich\u2019s eye brightened as she spoke of the expected visit from her\nson\u2014\u201cand if Lottie could be spared, I am sure that she would be most\nwelcome to a place in it, to go and see her poor mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cA good and kind thought,\u201d replied Isa. \u201cShe might stay over Sunday at\nAxe, and return in the baker\u2019s cart on the following morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you could kindly spare her,\u201d repeated Mrs. Holdich, almost as much\npleased at the prospect of the lonely Deborah having the comfort of a\nvisit from her child, as in the expectation of welcoming her own.\n\n\u201cLeave of absence will be easily given,\u201d observed Isa, \u201cespecially as I\nam not living at Wildwaste at present; so the services of our little maid\nare less required, as she was engaged upon my account.\u201d\n\nMrs. Holdich turned towards the shop of Bolder, after accompanying Miss\nGritton to the door of the new brick tenement, which appeared to Isa yet\nmore bare and destitute either of beauty or comfort every time that she\nreturned from the wood-girdled Castle of Lestrange.\n\nLottie was waiting at the open door to receive her mistress, having been\neagerly on the watch for her return.\n\n\u201cWould you like to go home to your mother, Lottie?\u201d said Isa.\n\nInstead of the sparkle of delight which Isa expected to call up in the\nblack eyes of her little maid, an anxious look of inquiry filled them.\n\n\u201cO Miss Isa! I know I bees awkward, I did break another saucer last\nnight\u2014but\u2014but won\u2019t you give me a little longer trial?\u201d\n\nIsa was amused at the confession, made with evident effort, for the blood\nrushed to the face of the simple girl as she spoke. \u201cI had no thought of\nsending you away, Lottie,\u201d said the young mistress, kindly; \u201cbut if you\nwould like to pass a couple of days with your mother, Mrs. Holdich will\ngive you a seat in her cart which is going on Saturday to Axe.\u201d\n\nIt was pleasant to Isa to see the sudden transition to joy on the\ncountenance of her little servant; Lottie clapped her hands like a child\nto whom a holiday is promised. With a heart warmed by the sight of the\ninnocent happiness which she had given, Isa Gritton opened the door of\nher brother\u2019s study, and entered the dull apartment with a light step and\nradiant smile, like one whose presence could make \u201csunshine in a shady\nplace.\u201d Gaspar was seated by a fireless grate; though shivering with\nchilliness, he would not indulge in a fire in April. He certainly looked\neven more sickly than usual, and Isa felt her cheerfulness damped at\nonce as, without rising, her brother held out two cold fingers to her,\nwith the dry observation, \u201cSo you can actually leave the delights of the\nCastle for an hour, to see if your brother be dead or alive!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, dear Gaspar,\u201d said Isa, expostulatingly, as she seated herself by\nhis side, \u201cif I thought that you needed my society\u2014that I could be a\nreal comfort to you\u2014\u201d she stopped short, being too candid to make empty\nprofessions, and not having made up her mind how far she could truthfully\ngo.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t care for words, I like deeds,\u201d observed Gaspar, coldly; \u201cwomen\nalways can talk.\u201d\n\nThe fresh, bright colour which Isa had brought in from her walk over\nthe common, deepened a little on her cheek, but she had resolved to\nbe patient and cheerful, and let her visit give nothing but pleasure.\nThough it might be scarcely necessary to tell Gaspar that she had given\na holiday to her young maid, it occurred to Isa that it might be well to\nshow him the deference of asking his consent.\n\n\u201cLottie would be very glad to see her mother,\u201d observed Isa after a short\nsilence; \u201cshe is a poor, shy little bird, that has never before left\nthe nest; Mrs. Holdich has arranged to make all easy for her going on\nSaturday to Axe, if you\u2019ll kindly give her leave for two days.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall do no such thing,\u201d replied Gaspar, peevishly; \u201cI don\u2019t give a\ngirl wages for going to see her mother.\u201d\n\nIsa was a little annoyed, but without betraying that she felt so,\nobserved, \u201cI am sure that Hannah would manage nicely without her for\nso short a time. You know, Gaspar, that you yourself thought a second\nservant unnecessary here.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do so still,\u201d said Mr. Gritton, taking a pinch of snuff; \u201cbut as long\nas I keep two, I\u2019ll have the services for which I pay.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Gaspar, I hope that this time\u2014as a personal favour to myself\u2014you\nwill graciously grant leave of absence. I have given Lottie hopes, or\nrather permission to go to her mother; it would vex me were she to be\ndisappointed.\u201d\n\nLottie herself had just opened the door, having come to ask Miss Isa if\nshe would not take some refreshment after her walk. She caught Isa\u2019s last\nsentence, and stood with her hand on the door-handle, quite innocent of\nany intention of eavesdropping, but too anxious to hear her master\u2019s\nanswer to think of anything else.\n\n\u201cOh, you\u2019ve given permission, have you! then I don\u2019t see why you should\ntake the trouble of asking mine,\u201d said Gaspar, ungraciously. \u201cLet her\ngo, it is nothing to me; I don\u2019t care if she stay away altogether, an\nawkward, clumsy gipsy-girl, not worth the salt that she eats.\u201d\n\nLottie retreated, closing the door behind her, and ran hastily up-stairs\nto indulge in a good hearty cry. Isa saw the poor girl retiring, and was\nannoyed at the mortification so needlessly inflicted on a warm young\nheart.\n\n[Illustration: LOTTIE\u2019S GRIEF.]\n\nGaspar having, though so uncourteously, yielded the point in question,\nhis sister changed the subject of conversation. She drew from her bag a\ncopy of the _Times_.\n\n\u201cI did not forget your wishes, Gaspar; but my uncle would be glad to have\nthe paper back, as he has the _Times_ bound at the end of the year.\u201d\n\nGaspar took the periodical without thanks, and prepared himself for the\nenjoyment of its perusal by a copious pinch of snuff, scattering the\nbrown powder as he did so over the printed sheet. Isa knew that the\nbaronet was very particular about his papers, and mentally resolved never\nagain to ask for a loan of the _Times_.\n\nGaspar pushed his chair round towards the light, and settled himself\nto read, taking no further notice of Isa, who sat undecided whether to\nremain or to leave him to the occupation which he evidently found more\ninteresting than her society. Isa had stored her memory with little\nanecdotes and small scraps of news which she thought might amuse the\nrecluse, but Gaspar showed no wish to enter into conversation. His sister\nthought with regret of the time when they used to meet in London under\nthe roof of a friend, when her brother had appeared to her to be all\ncourtesy and kindness.\n\n\u201cDoes he love me less because he knows me better?\u201d was the disheartening\nthought which crossed her mind.\n\nMr. Gritton read for some minutes in silence, and Isa was thinking of\nrising to depart, when, looking over his newspaper, her brother suddenly\naddressed her.\n\n\u201cIsa, have you ever met that woman?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know of whom you are speaking,\u201d answered Isa.\n\n\u201cCora Madden, of course,\u201d said Gaspar. \u201cI repeat\u2014have you ever met her?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; several times, years ago,\u201d replied his sister.\n\n\u201cAnd did you ever speak to her; did you come upon the subject of\u2014of\u2014what\nwe were speaking about the other morning?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not,\u201d answered Isa; \u201cI have never seen her since my loss; of\nour dear father\u2019s last words I have spoken to no one but yourself; I was\nnot even aware of the name of the orphan to whom he referred.\u201d\n\nGaspar fixed on his sister a gaze so keen and suspicious that it aroused\nin her bosom an emotion of indignation. \u201cWere you intimate with her,\nor with any of the Maddens?\u201d he inquired, in the tone of a lawyer\ncross-questioning a witness. Isa shrank as if his rough hand had touched\na scarcely healed wound.\n\n\u201cI was never intimate with Cora,\u201d she replied; \u201cit seemed to me that she\ndisliked me, but I never knew till now that she had any cause to do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe had no cause\u2014none\u2014none,\u201d said Gaspar, almost stuttering in the\neagerness of his denial. \u201cI told you and I tell you again, that you\nutterly mistook the meaning of that message from my father. I could not\nhelp the ship going down\u2014I had always dealt fairly by Miss Madden.\u201d\n\nThere are occasions when something in the manner of a speaker serves not\nonly to neutralize the force of his words, but actually to impress on\nthe hearer a strong contradiction of the meaning intended. Such was the\ncase with Gaspar\u2019s. Isa had had a suspicion that her brother had wronged\nCora in some pecuniary matter, but his manner of denying it changed\nsuspicion into conviction, and it kindled her indignation to believe\nthat he was now adding falsehood to fraud. The very air of the room grew\noppressive to Isa, the presence of Gaspar was painful, and when Mr.\nGritton, after his stammered-forth declaration, became again absorbed\nin the _Times_, making the rustling paper a screen between himself and\nhis sister, Isa rose, unwilling to prolong so unpleasant a visit. The\nparting between brother and sister was cold and constrained; Gaspar saw\nthat he had not satisfied Isa, and mingled resentment, fear, and shame,\nstruggled together in his breast. Isa gave a long-drawn sigh of relief\nwhen she found herself again in the open air, and could turn her back\nupon Wildwaste Lodge.\n\n\u201cI am certain that wrong has been done,\u201d thought Isa, as she slowly bent\nher steps towards Bolder\u2019s dwelling, \u201cbut it is not for me to repair it.\nCora has been sent poverty, doubtless, as a well-merited chastisement;\nlet me banish the subject from my mind. But why is it that my interest in\nthe orphan\u2019s cause has so much cooled since I have learned that orphan\u2019s\nname? Why is it that even with my distress and shame on account of my\nunhappy brother there is mingled\u2014dare I own it\u2014something that resembles a\nfeeling of gratified revenge! Here, indeed, is a Midianite in the soul!\nCora is the only being upon earth whom I regard with actual aversion, but\nI knew not till now how such aversion could warp my sense of justice\u2014of\nright! Oh! what revelations God makes to us of the evil lurking within\nour own hearts, which the world had not suspected, which we had never\nsuspected ourselves!\u201d\n\nTo Isa\u2019s self-reproach was added another emotion as painful,\u2014the fear\nthat duty might call for some effort on her part to set right what was\nwrong, to work on the conscience of her brother, to try to induce him\nto retrace his steps if he had wandered from the path of rectitude.\nIsa trembled at the very thought of what might lie before her; never\npreviously had duty worn to her an aspect so repulsive. Isa knew that\nshe ought to endeavour, by self-denying kindness, to strengthen her\ninfluence over Gaspar; that it should be one of the chief objects of her\nlife to win his confidence and his love; instead of doing this, she could\nnot help perceiving with mortification that, since coming to Wildwaste,\nshe had been steadily losing ground in the affections of her brother.\nHe thought her selfish, worldly, indifferent to his comfort. Could it\nbe that she was indeed so? Were her most pure and innocent earthly\nenjoyments becoming a snare to her soul?\n\nSuch distressing reflections kept Isa very silent as she retraced her\nsteps towards Castle Lestrange by the side of Rebekah Holdich. The\nsteward\u2019s wife had too much delicacy to intrude conversation where she\nsaw that it would not be welcome; she perceived that the short visit\nto the Lodge had had the effect of damping the spirits of Miss Gritton.\nRebekah\u2019s own heart, on the contrary, was filled with gladness, on\naccount of the change which she had found in one who had once appeared\nto her hard and unimpressionable as granite. Tychicus had ever seemed\nto Rebekah an opinionative, self-righteous man, and though she had\npitied his sufferings, and had done what she could to relieve them, her\ncompassion for the invalid had not been strengthened by personal regard.\nBut on this day Rebekah had found Tychicus softened, humbled, subdued.\nShe had heard him for the first time own that it had been good for him to\nbe afflicted, for he had learned more of himself and of his Saviour in\ntrouble than he had ever known in prosperous days. The furnace was doing\nits work; and while Mrs. Bolder plaintively lamented that her husband\nmust be \u201cdown in heart, to do himself such injustice,\u201d her friend was\nsecretly rejoicing that the Pharisee as well as the publican may be led\nto cry, \u201cGod be merciful to me a sinner!\u201d\n\n\u201cI remember,\u201d thought Rebekah, \u201cwhat Mr. Eardley once said to my boy when\nhe stood watching a caterpillar spinning a very beautiful cocoon. \u2018God\nsets that little creature a task to do, and diligently and skilfully he\ndoes it; and so God gives us good works to perform in His name and for\nHis sake. But were the insect to remain satisfied for ever in the silken\nball which he is weaving, it would become not his home but his tomb.\nNo; forcing a way through it, and not resting in it, will the winged\ncreature reach sunshine and air. He must leave his own works behind, if\nhe would shine in freedom and joy. And so it is with the Christian. If he\n_rest in his own works_, whatever they may be, he is dead to God and lost\nto glory; he is making of what he may deem _virtues_ a barrier between\nhimself and his Saviour.\u2019 Yes,\u201d mused Rebekah; \u201cGod be praised that poor\nBolder is making his way through the silken web; he is feeling the need\nof other righteousness than his own.\u201d\n\nAs soon as Isa arrived at the Castle, she tried to put away all\nremembrance of her painful visit to Wildwaste, but it haunted her during\nthe greater part of the day. In the evening, however, when a circle of\nfriends gathered around Sir Digby\u2019s hospitable board, her efforts were\nmore successful. Isa was naturally formed both to attract in society\nand to enjoy it; she delighted in \u201cthe feast of reason and the flow of\nsoul;\u201d her spirits had the elasticity of youth, and as she sat at the\nhead of her uncle\u2019s table, with everything that could please and gratify\naround her, Isa felt that life might still become to her a bright and\njoyous thing. Her soul was as a well-tuned harp, giving out cheerful and\nharmonious music, till a few sentences overheard of the conversation\nbetween two of the guests jarred on her as if a discordant string had\nbeen suddenly touched, and brought the shadow of past trial over the\nbrightness of present enjoyment.\n\n\u201cYou know Lionel Madden, then?\u201d\n\n\u201cA little; his wife I have known for the last thirty years. I hear that\ntheir union is by no means a happy one; but what else could be expected\nwhen she married only for the sake of a handsome face, and he for that of\na handsome fortune?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey say that Miss Madden made the match.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe certainly did,\u201d was the reply. \u201cCora had lost almost all her own\nmoney in some unlucky investment, so was resolved that her brother at\nleast should keep a carriage. But in the case of the Maddens the driving\nfell to the share of the ladies, and the bride found that, as two suns\ncannot shine in one orbit, so two sisters-in-law cannot yield one whip,\nand poor Cora was, metaphorically speaking, very speedily left on the\nroad.\u201d\n\nIsa felt her cheeks glow at this incidental mention of those whose fates\nhad been so closely linked with her own, and, perhaps to cover her\nemotion, said in a very low voice to Mr. Eardley, who was seated beside\nher, \u201cDo you not count the light gossip which sports with the characters\nand concerns of the absent, amongst \u2018the Midianites in the soul\u2019?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should count as such everything that mars the charity or spirituality\nof Christians,\u201d replied the clergyman. \u201cSuch things are, indeed, like\nMidian, a great host; not one giant foe to be overcome once and for\never, but a legion that incessantly harass, whether in the circles of\nsociety, or in the sacred central point of home.\u201d\n\nThe last word recalled to Isa\u2019s mind the image of an invalid brother,\nleft in dull loneliness; and a slight scarcely audible sigh, told of a\nsecret emotion of self-reproach and misgiving.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\nOn Friday evening Mr. Eardley, in the cottage of Holdich, went on with\nthe history which he had chosen as his theme.\n\n\nLECTURE III.\u2014FAITH IN OBEDIENCE.\n\nWe are to-day to examine faith in a further state of development. If only\nthe green leaves of hope appear, if\u2014as with the barren fig-tree in the\nparable\u2014there be no fruit, or promise of fruit, hope itself becomes but\nself-deception. _Why call ye Me Lord, Lord, and do not the things which\nI say?_ asked the Saviour; _If ye love Me, keep My commandments._ Faith\nmust blossom into obedience, as we see the fruit-trees in our orchards\nnow bursting into brightness and beauty. Yes; obedience is the blossom,\nand the essence of its fragrance, _self-denial_. In heaven obedience\nis ever a source of delight; but in a world of sin like this, it must,\nsooner or later, involve a sacrifice of the human will to the divine.\nSweet to our Lord is the fragrance which rises like incense when the\nlips of his servant\u2014tempted and tried\u2014can echo the words once breathed\nfrom His own to His Father in heaven, _Not as I will, but as Thou wilt_.\n\nGideon had received a promise from the Lord: it was linked, as God\u2019s\npromises ever are, with a command. That night the Lord thus spake to the\nson of Joash: \u201cTake thy father\u2019s young bullock, even the second bullock\nof seven years old, and throw down the altar of Baal that thy father\nhath, and cut down the grove that is by it; and build an altar unto the\nLord thy God upon the top of this rock, in the ordered place, and take\nthe second bullock, and offer a burnt sacrifice with the wood of the\ngrove which thou shalt cut down.\u201d\n\nMany difficulties lay in the way of the execution of such a command,\nand obedience to it must be fraught with great danger. We should not\nhave marvelled had we found that Gideon had pleaded to be spared a part\nat least of the painful task assigned him. He was not of the tribe to\nwhich pertained the service of the sanctuary; he had, under ordinary\ncircumstances, no right to offer such a sacrifice to God. His own\nfather was an idolater: was it for Gideon to destroy what a parent had\nset up, to draw down upon himself, as might be expected, the severe\ndispleasure of that parent, and perhaps involve Joash in the peril to\nwhich he himself would be certainly exposed? Then\u2014as Gideon might have\nanxiously reflected\u2014as it would be impossible for him by the strength of\nhis single right hand to cut down a grove, destroy an altar, and build\nanother as God had commanded, where was he to find comrades trusty enough\nand bold enough to help in the perilous work?\n\nGideon is not represented in the sacred narrative as a man likely to\nrush heedlessly upon an enterprise of difficulty and danger, and such\nthoughts as I have suggested are likely to have passed through his mind.\nThey would have led many in his place to frame excuses, or at least\nto interpose delays. But we hear not of Gideon doing either. A direct\ncommand had been given; simple, unquestioning obedience followed. Gideon\ntook ten men of his servants, and did as the Lord had said unto him.\nConscious of danger to be apprehended, not only from the Midianites and\nthe men of his own city, but even from the household of his father, the\nson of Joash chose the night-time to accomplish his task. Under the\ncover of darkness, when other eyes were closed in sleep, Gideon and his\ncompanions felled the trees of the grove, cast down the altar of Baal,\nand raised another to Israel\u2019s God. They led thither the appointed\nsacrifice, slew the bullock, and set fire to the wood, from whence the\nsmoke of the burnt-offering rose towards heaven. That was a busy, an\neventful, and must have been an anxious night to Gideon. By so decisive\nan act, he had indeed drawn the sword and thrown the scabbard away.\n\n[Illustration: THE ALTAR RAISED.]\n\nThe deed was done, the match was laid to the train, and Gideon must have\nawaited in anxious expectation the explosion which was certain to follow.\nThe morning\u2019s light revealed the work of the night; the idolatrous men\nof the city beheld the altar of Baal laid low in the dust, and from\nmouth to mouth passed the question, \u201cWho hath done this thing?\u201d If\nGideon had entertained any hope of concealment, that hope was a brief\none; either one of his comrades had turned informer, or some lurking spy\nhad witnessed his act, or, as seems more probable, he had already won\nsuch a character for uncompromising fidelity to his God, that suspicion\ninstantly fixed upon him as the man who had dared to cut down the grove,\nand destroy the idol-altar. \u201cGideon, the son of Joash, hath done this\nthing.\u201d\n\nThen rose the furious cry for blood from the enraged worshippers of Baal.\nThey demanded the life of the man who had dared to insult their god.\n\nThe Almighty raised up a protector for Gideon. It was the altar of an\nidolatrous father which he had cast down, and we might have expected the\nfury of Joash to have been turned against him; but the hearts of all men\nare in the hand of the Lord, and we find Joash suddenly in the character\nof a defender of his son\u2019s bold act. Many a prayer may have risen from\nthe depth of Gideon\u2019s soul when he beheld his father, a descendant of\nAbraham, debasing himself by worshipping Baal. His own noble deed seems\nto have had the effect of opening the eyes of his parent to the folly of\nbowing down to an idol that could not protect his shrine from insult.\nWith spirit and courage Joash faced those who would have sacrificed to\nvengeance the life of his son. \u201cWill ye plead for Baal?\u201d he cried; \u201cwill\nye save him? He that will plead for him, let him be put to death whilst\nit is yet morning; if he be a god, let him plead for himself, because one\nhath cast down his altar!\u201d and Joash called Gideon Jerubbaal, \u201clet Baal\nplead,\u201d in mockery of the false god to whom he himself had once bowed\ndown.\n\nWe are not directly told what was the effect of Joash\u2019s speech on the\nmen of his city, Abiezer, but we can easily gather what it was from the\nrecorded fact that on Gideon\u2019s blowing a trumpet they were the first to\nrally around him; they who had demanded his blood now acknowledged him as\ntheir leader. A spirit of patriotism appears to have been suddenly roused\nin Israel, and the people, in throwing off the bonds of superstition\nand idolatry, rose also to shake off the fetters of their earthly\noppressors. Messengers were sent by Gideon throughout Manasseh, and to\nAsher, Zebulon, and Naphtali. From the slopes of Hermon and Tabor, from\nthe shores of the Lake of Gennesareth, from the banks of the Jordan,\nfrom that northern portion of Canaan in which, in after times, the\nSaviour spent the years of His boyhood, hastened the liberators of Israel\nat the call of their Heaven-appointed chief. Nor was the enemy idle.\nThe Midianites, the Amalekites, and the children of the East gathered\ntogether, and pitched in the valley of Jezreel. That valley and the\ncountry adjacent are full of historical associations of deep interest.\nJezreel appears to have been in the centre of the great plain of\nEsdraelon, or Megiddo, which is bounded on the north by the mountains of\nGalilee, on the south by those of Samaria, and in which flow the water of\nKishon, \u201cthat ancient river\u201d which swept away Sisera\u2019s hosts. Well might\nthe triumphant song of Deborah here recur to Gideon, to brace up his soul\nfor the coming conflict. He saw around him the warriors of Zebulon and\nNaphtali, the tribes who, under Barak, _jeoparded their lives unto the\ndeath in the high places of the field_. Joash himself may have been one\nof the heroes who had _willingly offered themselves_ to oppose the might\nof Sisera, and may have heard from the lips of the prophetess the strain\nof triumph which closed with the words, _So let all Thine enemies perish,\nO Lord: but let them that love Him be as the sun when he goeth forth in\nhis might_.\n\nAnd now we behold the young Manassite, who was so lately threshing corn\nalone by the wine-press to hide it, a general at the head of an army of\nthirty-two thousand men. Such success, such a blessing had followed on\nfaith shown in obedience! And here let us leave Gideon, and apply to\nourselves the lesson conveyed in his marvellous story.\n\nEvery command of our heavenly Master, my brethren, is as a\ntreasure-casket, to be opened by the key of obedience grasped in the\nhand of faith. The casket may to our eyes look hard and repulsive, the\ntempter may seek to persuade us that we shall either find it empty, or\nfilled with bitterest gall. But _wait on the Lord, and keep His way, and\nHe shall exalt thee. The blessing of the Lord it maketh rich, and He\naddeth no sorrow with it._ Look at Noah, employed during _a hundred and\ntwenty years_, amidst the mocking and scorn of a most wicked generation,\nin building an enormous ark in obedience to God\u2019s command. What did he\nfind at last in it to reward his labour of patience, his obedience of\nfaith. Present deliverance from death for himself and his family, and\nthe sceptre of a renovated world! Remember Abraham and his anguish when\nhe received the mysterious command to sacrifice his son\u2014the son whom\nhe tenderly loved. Did not the tempter urge him in that awful hour to\ncast away his obedience, to turn from a command which to human nature\nappeared so hard? The hand of faith might tremble, but it refused not the\nawful task; and what lay enclosed within the dreaded command? A treasure\ncompared to which earth\u2019s crowns are but baubles, and all its riches\ndust. The promise of a Saviour to spring from Abraham\u2019s line, in whom all\nthe families of the earth should be blessed!\n\nWe also have before us commands enclosing blessings reserved for those\nto whom grace is given to obey God\u2019s will through the power of faith. In\nthe difficult task appointed for Gideon we may trace an emblem of that\nset before every individual who bears the name of Christian. There is\nfirst the altar of Baal to be thrown down; _self_ must be dethroned from\nits shrine, the heart\u2019s idolatry must be renounced; and who can say that\nto yield up self-will is not as difficult a duty as that which Gideon\nperformed on that eventful night at Ophrah? There is also the grove to be\ncut down, a type of those things lawful and even beautiful in themselves,\nbut which become to us snares if they stand in the way of duty, if they\nhide from us heaven\u2019s light. God hath given to us all things richly to\nenjoy; but if the gifts make us forget the Giver, if they cause us to\nneglect appointed duties, they are as the goodly trees by the altar of\nBaal, whose wood was to be used as fuel, and not reserved for shade.\n\nThirdly, there is the altar to be raised, the appointed sacrifice to be\noffered. I need scarcely remind you, my friends, that in this sacrifice\nthere is _nothing of atonement_\u2014the blood of Christ, and that _alone_,\nhas power to cleanse from sin, or to reconcile the sinner to God; yet\nis the Christian permitted, yea, _commanded_, to offer himself a living\nsacrifice, _holy, acceptable unto God_. As Gideon was not of the priestly\ntribe, and yet was given special grace to perform the priestly office,\nso the Lord deigns to make of His ransomed servants _a royal priesthood_\nas well as _a peculiar people_. Christ\u2019s sacrifice was the Sacrifice of\nAtonement; the sacrifice of His saints is that of thanksgiving. _The\noffering of a free heart will I give Thee, O Lord, and praise Thy name._\n\nTo each one amongst us to whom a present Saviour has been revealed by\nfaith, the word of the Lord hath come as to the son of Joash. We may\nhave rejoiced in the _promise_, but have we obeyed the command? Let\nus be honest with ourselves, my brethren; if the altar of Baal be yet\nstanding, can we hope to drive the Midianites out of the land? Faith, if\n_real_, must appear in obedience; _show me thy faith without thy works,\nand I will show thee my faith by my works_, saith the inspired apostle.\nI commend the subject to your earnest attention. Let each search and\ntry his own heart, and compare his life with the law of his God. Let\neach remember that even _every thought_ must be brought captive to the\nobedience of Christ, through the aid of the Holy Spirit, without whom we\ncan do nothing pleasing to the Lord. I cannot better close our meditation\non this subject than by repeating the words of our Redeemer in His Sermon\non the Mount:\u2014_Whosoever heareth these sayings of Mine, and doeth them,\nI will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: and\nthe rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat\nupon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock. And\nevery one that heareth these sayings of Mine, and doeth them not, shall\nbe likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: and\nthe rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat\nupon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it._\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nOPENING THE CASKET.\n\n\nAfter the close of the service, Isa, as before, spoke to her little\nblack-eyed maid, and inquired after the health of Gaspar.\n\n\u201cMaster has caught cold in his eyes, and he says it\u2019s east wind, and\nshuts himself up. He can\u2019t read, nor write, and he seems very dull-like,\u201d\nsaid Lottie, whose own sunburnt face was bright with the anticipated\nholiday before her.\n\nIsa sent a message to Mr. Gritton, and after exchanging a few words with\nHenry Eardley, left the cottage with Edith Lestrange. The little heiress\nthought her cousin unusually silent as they walked back to the Castle.\n\n\u201cEdith, dear,\u201d said Isa at last, \u201cI am going to return to Wildwaste\nto-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot to stay there, I hope,\u201d cried Edith.\n\n\u201cYes, to stay there,\u201d replied Isa, suppressing a sigh. \u201cI feel that poor\nGaspar needs me; I think that my right place is home.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps it is,\u201d said Edith, reluctantly. Unwilling as she was to part\nwith her cousin, Edith\u2019s own views were clear on the subject; the nearest\nrelation had the nearest claim\u2014nothing would have induced her to leave\nher own father when he needed the comfort of her presence. Edith thought\nit wrong to try to prevent Isa from doing what she would have thought it\nright to do in her place.\n\nThe baronet was not, however, so forbearing. When his niece announced\nto him her intention of leaving the Castle on the following day,\nhe playfully but strongly opposed her resolution. Sir Digby justly\nconsidered that Isa\u2019s companionship was both a pleasure and an advantage\nto his child, while her lively conversation and intelligence made it\nalso agreeable to himself. Sir Digby felt that his graceful niece was\nan ornament to his Castle, and would fain have ignored altogether her\nconnection with \u201ca low man retired from business, who had disfigured the\nneighbourhood by sticking up on the heath a cockney villa, which only\nwanted a swinging sign to be mistaken for a newly built public-house.\u201d\n\n\u201cHaving you safe here in ward in this our Castle, we shall certainly not\nlet our prisoner go, save on parole to return within two hours,\u201d said the\nbaronet; \u201cEdith, I commit the charge of our captive to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what if I am a warder not to be trusted?\u201d asked Edith, with a smile;\n\u201cwhat if I connive at the captive\u2019s escape?\u201d\n\n\u201cSeriously, Isa,\u201d said Sir Digby, \u201cyou cannot think of going back so soon\nto that\u2014that damp and not very cheerful locality;\u201d the baronet did not\nknow how to designate the dwelling itself by any term combining courtesy\nwith truth.\n\n\u201cIndeed, I must return to my brother,\u201d said Isa.\n\n\u201cYou will stay over Sunday, at least. I have an idea\u2014I believe that you\nlike attending the service at Axe.\u201d\n\nHow greatly Isa enjoyed the Sundays spent with the Lestranges the baronet\nknew not. The devotional spirit which breathed through the church service\nwas refreshing and reviving to her soul. To Mr. Eardley Isa looked up\nas the most faithful of pastors and the holiest of men; she met him\nnot unfrequently at the Castle, and the deeper the knowledge that the\nyoung maiden gained of the sterling qualities of his character, the\nmore she wondered that her eyes had ever been dazzled by unsubstantial\ntinsel, and the more grateful she felt to God for having preserved her\nfrom the effects of her own folly. Isa would probably have yielded to\nthe temptation to \u201cstay over Sunday,\u201d but for the reflections which the\nstory of Gideon had suggested to her mind. The grove, emblem of things\nin themselves lawful and desirable, which become snares when they stand\nin the way of duty, might not Isa find its counterpart in the pleasures\nof Castle Lestrange? Isa thought of the throwing down of self-will, the\nsacrifice of inclination, and so resisted the kind pressing of her uncle,\nand the more powerful pleading of her own wishes.\n\nEdith ordered the carriage on the following morning to take her cousin to\nWildwaste; she would herself accompany her thither. Isa would have liked\nto have asked her young companion to stay and spend the day at the Lodge,\nto brighten its dulness with her society; but in Gaspar\u2019s nervous and\nirritable state, Isa feared that a visitor might annoy him, especially\non a Saturday morning, which was always given to accounts. Edith, with\ninstinctive delicacy, removed any difficulty on the part of her cousin,\nby saying that she would not this time remain to pay her visit, but drive\non beyond Wild waste to return the call of some neighbouring family.\n\n\u201cWhile I am at Wildwaste, however, I should like just to look into the\nlittle school,\u201d said Edith, as she and her cousin were driving from\nCastle Lestrange.\n\n\u201cI have been into it two or three times,\u201d observed Isa,\u2014\u201cI mean into the\nroom in which Mrs. Collins teaches the girls; I have never yet ventured\namongst the boys\u2014the young savages who look so ragged and wild.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! they are polished gentlemen compared to what they were when Mr.\nArthur first took them in hand; so Mrs. Holdich has told me,\u201d laughed\nEdith. \u201cThey were like a pack of wild dogs, delighting to torment and\nworry every creature unfortunate enough to come within their reach, from\npoor little unfledged sparrows to Mrs. Stone\u2019s son, whom they actually\nhunted into fits!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd Mr. Arthur found some one to bring them into a little better order.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, he set about taming them himself; he used to go every morning to\nplay schoolmaster; the ragged little urchins thought it a grand thing to\nbe taught by a gentleman like him. How good does constantly come out of\nwhat we call evil!\u201d cried Edith. \u201cPapa did so much dislike letting the\ndear old Castle to strangers; but if he had not done so, Wildwaste would\nnever have had the blessing of an Arthur Madden.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe must have had a kind, generous spirit,\u201d observed Isa rather dreamily,\nfor every reference to the Madden family sent her thoughts back strangely\nto the past.\n\n\u201cA brave, noble spirit,\u201d cried Edith; \u201cfor I have heard that he stood\nso alone in his labours; instead of his family encouraging and helping\nhim, he was laughed at and opposed\u2014at least by his elder brother and\nsister. They would, I fancy, as soon have thought of going steadily to\nwork as \u2018hands\u2019 in that great soap-manufactory, amongst all the smoke\nand horrible scent, as of teaching dirty, ragged little \u2018roughs\u2019 their\nA B C in a shed! I cannot imagine Cora Madden touching one of the\nWildwaste children with the point of her parasol; and from what one hears\nof her brother Lionel\u2014but I am getting into evil-speaking,\u201d said Edith\ninterrupting herself. \u201cThere is the pretty little school-house, which\nit must have been such a pleasure to design and build. Papa says that\nwhen Arthur Madden returns to England he will certainly ask him to pay\na visit to the Castle, for such public spirit ought to be countenanced.\nBut I dare say that Mr. Madden wants no praise\u2014no honour from man\u2014that\nhe serves his heavenly Master in the spirit expressed in my favourite\nverses;\u201d and in her soft, almost childish accents, Edith repeated Bonar\u2019s\nbeautiful lines,\u2014\n\n    \u201cUp and away like the dew of the morning,\n      Soaring from earth to its home in the sun;\n    So let me steal away gently and lovingly,\n      Only remembered by what I have done.\n\n    \u201cMy name, and my place, and my tomb all forgotten,\n      The brief race of life well and patiently run;\n    So let me pass away peacefully, silently,\n      Only remembered by what I have done.\u201d\n\nBefore Edith had concluded the verses, the carriage had stopped at the\nentrance to the little school-house, on the side appropriated to the\ngirls.\n\n\u201cThe hive seems to be empty,\u201d observed Isa, as she alighted. \u201cI thought\nthat work was always going on at this hour, but I hear no hum of voices\nfrom within.\u201d\n\nA feeble wail was the only audible sound. After tapping gently at\nthe door, Isa entered, followed by her cousin, into the neat little\nschool-room, which usually presented a scene of cheerful industry. Its\nonly occupants were, however, the schoolmistress and the babe which\nshe rocked in her arms. The poor woman looked haggard and pale from a\nsleepless night, her face bore the stamp of anxious care, and vainly she\nattempted to soothe the little sufferer, that seemed from its wasted\nappearance not to have many more days to live. Mrs. Collins rose on the\nentrance of the ladies, still continuing to rock her sick babe.\n\n\u201cPray do not rise, Mrs. Collins; I fear that your dear child is very\npoorly,\u201d said Isa, looking with gentle sympathy on the suffering infant.\n\nThe schoolmistress sank down again on her seat, and drew a heavy sigh as\nshe answered, \u201cThe doctor thinks I shall lose her: I did not close an\neye all last night: I really could not hold the school this morning: it\nis the first time that ever I sent the children away, but Mrs. Bolder\nhas taken charge of even my own little boys\u2014I could not bear the noise\nfor poor baby.\u201d Mrs. Collins spoke apologetically, as one who fears that\nshe is neglecting a duty. Isa\u2019s expression of sympathy encouraged her to\nproceed: \u201cI am afraid that I shall have to tell the girls not to come\nto-morrow: my husband cannot undertake them as well as the boys, for\nneither of the rooms would hold all together.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE VISIT TO WILDWASTE SCHOOL.]\n\n\u201cHave you to teach on Sundays as well as on week-days?\u201d asked Edith.\n\n\u201cOnly for an hour before morning service, and another in the afternoon,\nMiss Lestrange. I\u2019m sorry to give it up even for one Sunday, for few of\nthe children ever see the inside of a church; and but for the school, as\nMr. Bolder used to say, they would grow up like heathen.\u201d Mrs. Collins\nwas still rocking the baby, that, to her great relief, was at length\ndropping asleep in her arms.\n\n\u201cShall I come to-morrow and take your class?\u201d asked Isa. \u201cI have had\nlittle experience in tuition, but I could read to the girls, teach\nthem hymns, and question them out of the Bible, while you sit quietly\nupstairs nursing your poor little child.\u201d\n\nThe look of gratitude in the eyes of the anxious mother said more than\nher words, as she eagerly accepted the young lady\u2019s offer.\n\n\u201cAnd I will see if there is not something that I can send to do the dear\nbaby good,\u201d said Edith, resolved to drive back and consult Mrs. Holdich\non the subject.\n\nThe cousins left the school-room with a pleasant consciousness that they\nhad lightened a heavy burden. To Isa, especially, the feeling was sweet.\nWhat she had heard of the labours of Arthur Madden had raised the thought\nin her mind, \u201cOh, that I could _go and do likewise_; that I too could\nleave a blessing behind, and be \u2018remembered by what I had done!\u2019\u201d At once\na door of usefulness was opened before her. Why should she not every\nSunday relieve the hard-worked schoolmistress, and let the weary mother\nenjoy amidst her children what would then be a Sabbath indeed? Isa had\nfor a few weeks taught a Bible-class in London; she liked the work, it\ngave interest to life, it took away the sense of weariness and emptiness\nwhich will sometimes creep over the spirit even of the lovely and young.\nIsa knew the task of tuition would be far lighter to her than it had\nbeen to the young man whose example was before her: she would go where\nshe would be welcomed, amongst children already trained to some degree\nof order: she would have no opposition or ridicule to fear; for Gaspar,\nso long as she made no demands on her purse, was contented to let his\nsister do very much as she pleased. That brief visit to the school-room\nhad to Isa changed greatly the aspect of life at Wildwaste. Her Sundays\nat least would not be joyless; she was permitted to do the Lord\u2019s work,\nshe might hope for His presence and blessing. She had made a sacrifice of\ninclination by returning to Wildwaste, and she was beginning to see that\neven in that dreary place God might give her rich cause for rejoicing.\n\n\u201cYes; I shall be happier even here, trying to please my heavenly Master,\nthan at Castle Lestrange, with the feeling ever arising that I am seeking\nto please self alone.\u201d\n\nIt was this thought that made Isa Gritton bear patiently the dull\nmonotony of the home to which she had returned, and the wayward\nfretfulness of him whose society now replaced that in which she had found\nsuch delight. Though Gaspar\u2019s temper was more than usually trying, not\nonce did a peevish tone betray irritation, not once did a frown furrow\nIsa\u2019s fair brow. For hours, on the evening after her return, Isa sat\nreading aloud to her brother a work upon commercial statistics, in which\nshe herself took not a shadow of interest. Certainly her mind wandered\nmuch from the book, and when at length she wearily closed it, Isa could\nnot have recalled a single sentence which it contained. But she had been\nserving an invalid brother and not pleasing herself; and if this duty was\nless attractive than that of feeding the Saviour\u2019s lambs, it was equally\nthat which He had assigned her, and it was fulfilled for His sake.\n\nMankind applaud great acts of munificence, costly offerings presented\nlike those of Solomon in open day, in the sight of all; but by far the\ngreater number of the sacrifices which God accepts are made, as it were,\nlike Gideon\u2019s, in the night-time, in the obscurity of domestic life,\nwhere no praise is looked for from man. There is deep truth in the\nwell-known lines of Keble,\u2014\n\n    \u201cThe trivial round, the common task,\n    Afford us all we ought to ask\u2014\n    Room to deny ourselves, a road\n    To lead us daily nearer God.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nTIDINGS.\n\n\nEarly on the Saturday afternoon Lottie Stone, with her little bundle in\nher hand, tripped lightly over the common towards the cottage of Holdich,\nwhich lay embosomed within the woods of Lestrange. She was on her way\nto her parent\u2019s home, and pleasure winged her steps. There are few joys\nmore keen and pure than those experienced by a young girl, like Lottie,\nreturning to the family whom she loves, after her first absence. What\nthough Mrs. Stone\u2019s dwelling-place was but a single room over a shop,\nwith a tiny attic chamber for her son; to Lottie there was still a charm\nin the word \u201chome,\u201d for love and peace abode there. She clapped her hands\nfor joy as the open cart in which she was seated rattled down the narrow\npaved street of Axe, and she caught sight of the ungainly figure of her\nonly brother standing before the shop. Out sprang Lottie almost before\nthe horse was pulled up, and in another minute she was locked in the\narms of her mother.\n\nHow much had Lottie to tell; how fast she talked, how merrily she\nlaughed, as she sat at her mother\u2019s little deal table spread with unusual\ndainties\u2014buttered muffins, and toast, and water-cresses from the stream.\nThe washerwoman had \u201ccleared up and made all tidy\u201d for the reception\nof her daughter; and her son had decked the homely room with bunches\nof cowslips and daffodils. Deborah\u2019s care-worn brow seemed less deeply\nwrinkled, and her thin anxious face often relaxed into a smile, as her\nmerry child talked over her first eventful month of service, playfully\ndescribing what at the time of occurrence had seemed to her anything but\nsources of mirth,\u2014her own petty troubles and ignorant blunders. Lottie\u2019s\nhearers drew from her recital that Hannah was a somewhat formidable\ntask-mistress, that \u201cMaster\u201d was not very easily pleased, that crockery\nat the Lodge had a peculiar tendency to slip out of clumsy fingers, but\nthat \u201cMiss Isa\u201d was the kindest of mistresses, and that a smile from her\nseemed to smooth every difficulty away.\n\n\u201cBless your dear heart, how your poor father would have liked to have\nheard you!\u201d exclaimed Deborah Stone, as the merry girl at length stopped\nto take breath.\n\nFor the loyal heart of the deserted wife remained true in its allegiance.\nPerhaps memory had softened the past, perhaps it overleaped the years\nof bitter suffering on the one side and tyranny on the other, and\nDeborah only thought of her husband as what he had been in the days of\nhis wooing. However that might be, conjugal affection remained firm and\nbright like its pledge, the circlet on the wrinkled bony finger, the sole\npiece of gold which its owner possessed, and which no strain of poverty\nwould ever induce her to part with. When Deborah knelt down in the\nevening to offer her simple little prayer with her children, very fervent\nwas her supplication for one absent but never forgotten: where Abner was\nshe knew not, what Abner was she had proved by bitter experience, but\nstill, \u201ctrue as the needle to the pole,\u201d the hopes and affections of the\ninjured woman still pointed towards her lost husband.\n\nSunday was an especially happy day to Lottie, it was such a pleasure to\ngo to what she deemed her own church, hear her own pastor, meet again\nwith her own companions in the Sunday school which she used to attend.\nShe was only disappointed when the baronet\u2019s carriage drew up to the\nchurch-porch, not to see in it the bright fair face of her dear young\nmistress.\n\n\u201cA letter for you, mother,\u201d said Mrs. Stone\u2019s son, as he entered on the\nMonday morning the little room in which Lottie, humming a lively air, was\nhelping her parent to clear away the remains of their early breakfast. As\nMrs. Stone\u2019s receiving a letter of any kind was a quite unprecedented\noccurrence, Lottie turned with some curiosity to see what the missive\ncould contain. It had come by a cross-country post, for her brother\npointed to the stamp-mark upon it, \u201cSouthampton.\u201d\n\n\u201cA letter for me?\u2014why, who would write!\u201d exclaimed Deborah, gazing with\na look rather of anxiety than of curiosity on the address, \u201cTo D. Stone,\nWildwast,\u201d traced in a straggling, hardly legible hand, with \u201cTry Axe\u201d\nwritten below by the postmaster, showing that her correspondent could\nnot be aware that\u2014years ago\u2014she had changed her abode. It was no wonder\nthat Deborah did not recognize that rude handwriting, as she had seen it\nbut once before, when, in the parish register, she had scrawled her own\nsignature beneath that of her newly-wedded husband.\n\n\u201cO mother, do open it!\u201d cried Lottie; \u201cwho knows whether it mayn\u2019t bring\nus news of poor father.\u201d\n\nIt was the same thought that had made the hand of Deborah tremble as she\nhad taken the letter from her son. She tore open the envelope, and with\nanxious eyes glanced at the signature at the end of its enclosure.\n\n\u201cIt is\u2014yes\u2014oh! the Lord is merciful!\u201d exclaimed the poor wife, with\nsomething like a sob. Long experience of hardship and sorrow had so\nstrengthened her nature to endure, that it was very seldom that Deborah\ngave any expression to outward emotion; but no one could have looked at\nher at that moment and not have read in every line of her countenance\nthat the depths of her soul were stirred, that the few scarcely audible\nwords which escaped her lips came from the inmost recesses of a heart\nwhere sorrow had so long fixed its abode, that when joy came it startled\nand overpowered, like the visit of an angel.\n\n[Illustration: THE LETTER.]\n\n\u201cMother, read more; oh! read every word!\u201d cried Lottie, whose only\nemotions seemed those of hope and delight; while her brother looked\nbewildered and scarcely able to comprehend that that piece of paper,\nblotted and soiled, on which his mother\u2019s tears were falling, actually\ncontained the writing of his father.\n\nIt was some little time before the trembling, excited woman could, with\nthe help of her children, make out the scrawl, which read as follows:\u2014\n\n                                                ANCOR INN, SUTAMTON.\n\n    DEAR WIFE,\u2014I landed here last month. I bin vry ill 6 weeks; i\n    bin in det, an cant git away _till i pais_, so send me _five\n    punds_ afor thusday in a letter, or i shall git in _gret\n    trubel_; don\u2019t tell no one abuit me, most of all not mister\n    Erdly, cause id be had up for that scrape\u2014mind don\u2019t tell _no\n    one_, but send mony _quick_; i hop to be a beter husband an\n    father; it was all along of the drink; so no more fum yur loving\n\n                                                        ABNER STONE.\n\n\u201cFive pounds\u2014how can I send him five pounds\u2014I\u2019ve not five shillings in\nthe world!\u201d cried Deborah, glancing around her, as if to see whether any\narticle in that scantily furnished room could, if sold or pawned, bring\nanything like such a sum, the fifth part of which she had never possessed\nat one time since her marriage.\n\n\u201cFive pounds!\u201d repeated her son dreamily, as he slowly moved his fingers\none after the other, apparently to aid his dull brain in making some\nmental calculation.\n\n\u201cWe must send, oh! we must send the money!\u201d cried Lottie, clasping her\nhands. \u201cDear Mr. Eardley might\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI couldn\u2019t ask him for another penny,\u201d exclaimed Deborah, \u201che has done\nso much already, and he has so many alooking to him; and then your\nfather forbids me to tell him a word.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf only Mr. Arthur were in England,\u201d sighed Lottie.\n\n\u201cYou earns wages,\u201d said her brother abruptly, as if he had suddenly\nlighted on some fountain of wealth.\n\n\u201cMy quarter\u2019s wages won\u2019t be due till next June,\u201d replied Lottie.\n\n\u201cCould your master do anything?\u201d suggested Deborah; \u201cit is said about\nhere that he\u2019s rich.\u201d\n\nLottie shook her head with a very significant expression. \u201cHe may have\nplenty of money,\u201d she said slowly, \u201cbut I\u2019m sure he don\u2019t like to part\nwith it; there\u2019s nothing to be got out of he.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s the baker\u2019s cart come for you, Lottie,\u201d cried her brother, who\nhad sauntered up to the window.\n\nLottie hurriedly snatched up her bonnet and shawl. \u201cI mustn\u2019t keep him;\nbut oh! mother, if I could only think of any way to help father\u2014\u201d a loud\nsummons shouted from below cut her short in the middle of her sentence,\nand quickened her movements.\n\n\u201cPray, child, pray; God Almighty will show us some way:\u201d there was\nscarcely time for the parting kiss and blessing; Lottie hurried down\ninto the street barely soon enough to prevent her impatient escort from\ndriving away without her.\n\nVery different were the feelings of the young servant girl on her drive\nfrom Axe, from those with which, two days before, she had entered the\nquaint little town. She replied at random to the jesting observations of\nthe baker\u2019s boy, she seemed unable to understand the meaning of the words\nthat fell on her ear, for her mind was so full of conflicting emotions\nthat outer things could make no impression upon it. Lottie scarcely knew\nwhether she was happy or unhappy, whether her inclination was to laugh\nor to cry. Her prayers had been answered\u2014her lost father was found; here\nindeed was joy and cause for thanksgiving: but he was ill, in debt,\nneeded money, and where was that money to be procured?\n\n\u201cI would work my fingers to the bone!\u201d muttered Lottie to herself, as\nthe cart rolled lightly along the dusty high road, \u201cbut no working would\nbring more than the one pound due in June;\u201d and thoughts of the new\nboots which would then be absolutely needed would intrude on the little\nmaid\u2019s mind. \u201cI can\u2019t go about Mr. Gritton\u2019s house barefoot; and then he\nsays that I am to pay for all that I break, and, oh! the things _will_\nslip out of my hands! Would my dear young lady help me? but I must not\ntell even her that I want money for my poor sick father. Shall I say\nthat mother\u2019s in trouble for rent?\u201d The honest soul of Lottie recoiled\nfrom the artful suggestion of the Tempter, and she shook her head so\nemphatically in reply to it, that the baker\u2019s boy, who had been watching\nwith amusement her earnest look of thought and her moving lips, burst\nout into a laugh which startled her into a consciousness that she was not\nalone.\n\n\u201cI say, Lottie Stone, what did you see in that thorn bush to make you\nshake your head at it so fiercely?\u201d cried the lad.\n\n\u201cI was only a-thinking,\u201d replied Lottie.\n\n\u201cA penny for your thoughts,\u201d said her companion.\n\nBut the answer was such a heavy sigh, that the good-humoured lad saw that\nthe little maiden was in no mood for jesting, and as she turned her head\nsorrowfully away, he left her in peace to pursue her reflections.\n\nIt was perhaps well for Lottie that she had not much time for meditation\nafter her arrival at the Lodge. Hard work has served to relieve many an\nanxious heart, and Hannah took care that her little assistant should have\nher share, and much more than her share, of the labour of the house.\nLottie Stone had to pay by double work for her two days\u2019 holiday at Axe.\nYet while she washed, and scrubbed, and tidied the rooms, the thoughts of\nthe poor young girl were constantly recurring to her father, and she was\nrevolving the difficult problem how it would be possible to procure five\npounds to send to her father before Thursday.\n\nWhile Lottie was laying the cloth for dinner, she could not help hearing\nthe conversation going on between her master and his sister, relative to\none of the children of Isa\u2019s Sunday class.\n\n\u201cI am certain that she is consumptive, and that Wildwaste is too damp\nfor the poor little thing. I hear that the doctor has said that her only\nchance is to go to the hospital at Bournemouth.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve no faith in doctors,\u201d said Gaspar, applying to his snuff-box.\n\n\u201cIf I myself had the means of sending her,\u201d pursued Isa, \u201cI would never\ntrouble you on the subject; but the expenses will be heavy, and my purse\nis light, and\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will always be light if you go picking up every case that comes\nbefore you. You may throw away your money if you choose, but I shall\ncertainly not throw away mine;\u201d and, rising, Gaspar walked to the window,\nto put an end to the conversation.\n\nThe words which she had heard fell like cold vapour upon the heart of\nLottie. \u201cMy poor dear mistress, though she is a lady, has a light purse;\nshe cannot do what she wishes; she is obliged to beg her brother for\nmoney, and he refuses to give it. Ah, there is no use in my asking help\nfrom her! She has the will to do good, but not the power; master has\nthe power, but not the will. People say as how he is rich; it don\u2019t\nlook like it, when he\u2019s so angry at the candles being used so fast. I\u2019m\nsure if I were rich\u2014;\u201d and here the little maid\u2019s thoughts flowed on\nfast in a channel into which they had often wandered before\u2014how much\ngood _she_ would do if she were rich\u2014how much she wished that she had\nplenty of money\u2014how strange it was that some should be rolling in wealth,\nwhile others had scarcely bread enough to satisfy hunger. There are many\nthrough whose minds, as through Lottie\u2019s, such a current of reflection is\nwont to run; but the little servant-maid suspected that there was danger\nin giving it free course.\n\n\u201cI do believe that Mr. Eardley would say\u2014could he know of what I am\nthinking\u2014that I am letting those Midianites, Discontent and Distrust,\ninto my foolish little heart. It do seem as if I was beginning to think\neverything wrong in God\u2019s world, \u2019cause I can\u2019t do what I want for\nfather. If I can\u2019t ask Miss Isa to help me, is there not One above whom\nI _can_ ask, and who has both the power and the will to do me good? I\nneedn\u2019t be hiding nothing from God; He knows all already. He has made\npoor father give up the drink, and has brought him back to England,\nand has helped him over his sickness, and now He can set him free from\nhis debt. I must pray very hard, and pray in faith, and _pray without\nfainting_, and sure the answer will come at last.\u201d\n\nAnd so, while she pursued her household labours, as well as when she\nknelt by her bed-side at night; when the duster or the broom was in her\nhand, as well as when her Bible lay open before her, the simple-minded\nLottie lifted up her heart to her Father in heaven, and found comfort and\nhope in resting her cares upon Him.\n\nOn the evening of the following day, Lottie accompanied her mistress to\nthe meeting at the cottage of Holdich.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nLECTURE IV.\u2014FAITH IN TRIAL.\n\n\nA very remarkable trial was now to test the faith of Gideon. We left him\nin the proud position of the leader of an army of thirty-two thousand\nmen; and we can imagine how the heart of the patriot would swell with\nthankfulness and joy, as the prospect of delivering his country by their\nmeans brightened before him,\u2014how he would welcome the arrival of each\nbrave band, and count up the increasing number of his forces.\n\nFurther encouragement was given to Gideon by miraculous signs vouchsafed\nto him by God in answer to prayer. \u201cIf Thou wilt save Israel by my hand\nas Thou hast said, behold,\u201d cried Gideon, \u201cI will put a fleece of wool in\nthe floor; and if the dew be on the fleece only, and it be dry upon all\nthe earth beside, then shall I know that Thou wilt save Israel by mine\nhand, as Thou hast said.\u201d\n\nEarly on the morrow the chieftain arose, and sought the fleece where he\nhad laid it. He found it heavy with moisture, though the ground lay dry\naround it; and Gideon wrung out from the dripping wool a bowlful of water.\n\nYet Gideon ventured to beseech God to grant a reversal of this miraculous\nsign, in further confirmation of his faith: \u201cLet not Thine anger be hot\nagainst me, and I will speak but this once: let me prove, I pray Thee,\nbut this once with the fleece. Let it now be dry only upon the fleece,\nand upon all the ground let there be dew.\u201d\n\nEven as Gideon had prayed, so was the sign vouchsafed; the soft dew lay\non the earth around, while the fleece remained dry.\n\nIt has been remarked that in the fleece of Gideon we may see not only a\nsign, but also a type of Israel, the chosen people of God. The living\nwater of divine truth, the dew of a peculiar blessing, rested upon\nthe children of Abraham when the rest of the world was as a dry and\nthirsty land. Now\u2014alas for those who rejected, who still reject their\nMessiah!\u2014the sign is reversed. As a dry fleece the Jews remain in the\nmidst of Christian nations, a marvel to the world; the dew which falls\nso richly around them rests not on them as a people. Oh, may God hasten\nthe time when the Jews also shall receive the water of life; when they\n_shall look on Him whom they pierced_; and when God shall make use of\nthem as His chosen instruments for the conversion of the heathen! Looking\nforward to that blessed time, St. Paul\u2014himself a Jew\u2014exclaims, _What\nshall the receiving of them be but life from the dead?_ Let us pray then,\nmy brethren, for the dew of grace to fall upon the dry fleece, that\nJerusalem, the city of the great King, may once more become the joy of\nthe earth.\n\nGideon, strengthened by signs from heaven, and surrounded by the hosts\nof Israel, might now fearlessly and confidently await the conflict with\nMidian; but he was not only to do God\u2019s work, but to do it in God\u2019s\nappointed way. _Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the\nLord of hosts._ The Lord thus spake unto Gideon: \u201cThe people that are\nwith thee are too many for Me to give the Midianites into their hands,\nlest Israel vaunt themselves against Me, saying, Mine own hand hath saved\nme. Now, therefore, go to, proclaim in the ears of the people, saying,\nWhosoever is fearful and afraid, let him return and depart early from\nMount Gilead.\u201d\n\nIn making such proclamation, Gideon was obeying a command given through\nMoses (Deut. xx. 8), though it is possible that he might have omitted to\ndo so without the special direction from above. Startling was the effect\nof the proclamation, and it needed strong faith in Gideon not to falter\nwhen the force of Israel began to melt away like a snow-ball, till more\nthan two-thirds of the whole number had deserted the camp. Truly many had\nbeen called, but few were chosen. Where were those who had so readily\nobeyed the call of the trumpet, and quitted their homes for the field of\nwar? Of how many might it be said, _Being harnessed and carrying bows,\nthey turned back in the day of battle._ They were not to share the glory;\nthey had faltered in the moment of trial. Oh, brethren, may it never be\nso with us! May _the fear of man_, which _bringeth a snare_, never make\nus shrink back from the duty before us. What must have been the shame of\nthose who had come to the gathering of the hosts of Israel, and who had\nthen departed without striking one blow, when the rocks and mountains\nrang with the shouts of their conquering brethren, and the victory in\nwhich they might once have shared was won without them! _No man having\nput his hand to the plough_ (or, to the sword), _and looking back, is fit\nfor the kingdom of heaven._\n\nThe force under Gideon had now dwindled from thirty-two thousand to ten\nthousand men. Human wisdom would have deemed these all too few to oppose\nthe multitudes of Midian encamped in the valley before them; but not so\njudged the God of hosts. The Lord said unto Gideon, \u201cThe people are yet\ntoo many; bring them down unto the water, and I will try them for thee\nthere: and it shall be, that of whom I say unto thee, This shall go with\nthee, the same shall go with thee; and of whomsoever I say unto thee,\nThis shall not go with thee, the same shall not go.\u201d\n\nGideon, in obedience to the command, brought down his forces unto the\nwater, leaving the selection of the chosen band of heroes unto Him who\nreadeth the thoughts of the heart. Doubtless the Israelites were thirsty\nfrom their long march in the heat of that sultry clime; by far the\ngreater number threw themselves on their knees by the water, stooping\ndown eagerly to drink; three hundred only lapped from their hands the\ncooling draught. And the Lord said unto Gideon, \u201cBy the three hundred men\nthat lapped will I save you, and deliver the Midianites into thine hand;\nand let all the other people go every man unto his place.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: GIDEON\u2019S ARMY DRINKING AT THE BROOK.]\n\nMysterious command, and yet was it instantly obeyed. Gideon dismissed the\ngreater part of his forces, not to their homes, but to their tents. They\nhad yet their appointed part to take; they would complete the victory;\nthey would follow up the pursuit. It is not given to all to be foremost\nin peril or in fame. Some are called to do great things, to suffer great\nthings for God; others have a humbler part to perform: they have to\nfollow up the successes of their brethren; not to shine conspicuously\nas Christian heroes, but to do their duty steadily as Christian men. It\nis very possible that some bold spirits amongst Gideon\u2019s ten thousand\nmay have been tempted to repine at being excluded from the glorious\nprivilege of those who were to bear the brunt, and win the highest\nrenown. And now the zealous servant of Christ, kept back by sickness or\nsome other dispensation from active usefulness for his Lord, finds it\nhard to realize the truth, \u201cThey also serve who only stand and wait.\u201d\nHe fain would be in the scene of action; he fain would join in the\nglorious strife. Must he look on while others labour? must he stand\nstill while others fight? My brethren, the place which our great Leader\nassigns to us is the right place, however humbling it may be to our\npride. The submission of those who retired to their tents may have been\nas acceptable to God as the courage of those who remained to perform the\nperilous duty before them.\n\nThe truth which is especially brought to our notice in this remarkable\nportion of the story of Gideon, is the necessity that God should be\ngiven the glory of every high and holy work which He enables His people\nto perform. Israel was not to say, \u201cMine own hand hath saved me.\u201d Weak\ninstruments were purposely chosen, that the honour of success might\npertain unto God, and not man. And how often has the same lesson been\ntaught in the history of the Church! Not the mighty, not the noble or the\nlearned were appointed at the first to proclaim the gospel of salvation.\nWhen the lowly and illiterate, when fishermen from Galilee were chosen\nas leaders of the hosts of the Lord, who could not but own that their\nsuccess was due to the power of the Spirit? It is right that we should\nemploy all lawful means to further God\u2019s work, but let us beware that we\nrest not in means; let us especially beware that we use no means that are\nnot sanctified by His blessing. Had the ten thousand valiant men been led\nforward by Gideon against the foe, what would their number, what would\ntheir courage, what would their zeal have availed? Doubtless shameful\ndefeat would have followed presumptuous self-confidence, and he who had\nrested on an arm of flesh have found that he had leaned on a broken reed.\n\nChristians are now not unfrequently placed in a position which may remind\nus of that of Gideon, when he found his forces melting away in the face\nof a formidable foe. In the midst of active labours for God, one is\nsmitten down by sickness, his work is still to be done\u2014the power to do\nit seems taken away. Another, active in works of charity, suddenly loses\nthe means of which he has made such liberal use, his resources dwindle\nlike the army of Gideon, and he is tempted to cry, \u201cO Lord, wherefore\nhast Thou crippled my usefulness? what I had, was it not devoted to Thy\nservice?\u201d My brethren, if the blessing of God be left behind, we may rest\ntrustfully in the assurance that He will care for His own work. He can\nmake a few victorious over the many. His blessing on a cruse of oil and\na handful of meal made them a surer source of supply than the granaries\nof the wealthy. God hath not forsaken, He would only humble and prove His\nservants, and teach them through trials of faith to look for success only\nto Him.\n\nWere it not for our past experience that flowers must fade to make\nway for fruit, how sad would be the sight of the fading blossoms on a\ntree\u2014the petals strewed in the dust, their brilliant beauty departed!\nBut we know that what is more precious is left behind; that on the bough\nremains the green germ of the fruit which shall renew the beauty of the\ntree, and give to it a value beyond what it possessed in the smiling days\nof spring. So see we faith in trial. Outward advantages may be taken\naway, sweet hopes may fall and wither, but if the fruit-tree be thriving\nand deep-rooted, harvest glory is yet to come. Job\u2014stripped of property,\nchildren, health\u2014might lament the day of his birth, and believe that his\nseason of active usefulness was departed for ever; but through his very\ntrials and losses he passed to greater glory and joy, and has become a\nfruitful source of blessing to the Church of God through many generations.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nA PROMISE.\n\n\n\u201cI am sure that Mr. Eardley was thinking of Mr. Arthur Madden this\nevening when he spoke of active labourers for God being smitten down by\nsickness,\u201d observed Rebekah Holdich to her husband, after the little\ncongregation had dispersed from the cottage.\n\n\u201cMr. Arthur\u2014I hope there\u2019s nothing the matter with him!\u201d said Holdich,\nwith a look of concern on his manly countenance. \u201cThe last news was that\nhe had been ordained at Jerusalem.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I grieve to say that worse tidings came this morning to Mr. Eardley\nin a letter from Mr. Arthur\u2019s youngest sister, who has been nursing him\nin a dangerous illness. The doctors say that the climate does not agree\nwith his health; he was ordered to England directly\u2014he and his sister\nwere to start by the very next steamer.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will be a real pleasure to see them again,\u201d observed Holdich. He was\na man rather of deeds than words, so the simple sentence expressed a\ngreat deal more than it would have done from the lips of another.\n\n\u201cBut Mr. Arthur may never arrive, he may sink by the way,\u201d faltered\nRebekah, who was of a disposition naturally tender, and not very hopeful.\n\n\u201cWife, he is in God\u2019s hands,\u201d said Holdich; \u201csick or well, on sea or on\nland\u2014he will be given what is best for him.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d thought Rebekah, \u201cmy husband is always one to see behind the fading\nblossoms the germ of the fruit. His is a faith that can bear wind and\nstorm; he can trust not only himself, but (what I find so much harder to\ndo) those whom he loves, to his God.\u201d\n\nMrs. Bolder, as usual, carried back to her suffering husband an account\nof the cottage-lecture.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s a word of comfort for me,\u201d observed Bolder; \u201cmaybe I\u2019m like\none of these nine thousand seven hundred Israelites sent back to their\ntents. They were not to be trusted to gain the victory, lest they should\nboast that their own strength had won it. God kept them in the background\nto keep them humble; but they were not rejected\u2014no! Nor is many a poor\nsinner like me, though shut up from active work\u2014we shall yet be allowed\nto join in the shout, _Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory through\nour Lord Jesus Christ._\u201d\n\nLottie Stone had returned to the Lodge that evening with a very heavy\nheart. Her mind was far less occupied with the lecture than with the\ntidings which she had heard of the dangerous illness of one of her\nearliest benefactors. Already perplexed and distressed as she was on\naccount of her father, this new trouble had come on the little maid as a\nshock. The words in which Mrs. Bolder had communicated the news to her,\n\u201cHave you heard that Mr. Arthur Madden is dying at Jerusalem?\u201d had struck\nlike a knell on her heart. Already that young tender heart was bleeding\nfrom home anxieties and troubles of which Lottie could not speak even to\nthe kind mistress for whose counsel and sympathy she yearned, and now\nthis second blow seemed almost crushing. Her father in difficulties,\nout of which she could not help him, returning after the absence of\nyears to his country, but sick, tied down by debt, unable to reach those\nwho loved him; and now the generous friend of the family dying in a\nfar-distant land\u2014thoughts of all this were a most oppressive burden of\nsorrow to Lottie. Her mind was so full of its troubles that she was more\nthan usually awkward and inattentive in service. She was unpunctual in\nbringing in tea, the milk-jug was empty, the plates forgotten, the water\nhad never been boiling. Isa was a little displeased, Mr. Gritton was\nangry, and his peevish chiding increased the confusion of poor Lottie\nStone. In her nervous haste in removing the tea-tray she knocked over a\nletter-weigher which had lain upon Gaspar\u2019s table. It fell with a clatter\nwhich made the invalid start, and the various weights were scattered\nhither and thither, some on the boards, some on the piece of brown\ndrugget which covered the centre of the apartment.\n\n\u201cThe girl must have been drinking!\u201d exclaimed Gaspar angrily, while poor\nLottie went down on her knees to gather up the weights. Isa, pitying her\nconfusion, said, in order to draw away the attention of Gaspar, \u201cI have\nnot yet told you of Edith\u2019s kindness; she has promised to send my poor\nconsumptive girl to Bournemouth.\u201d\n\n\u201cI feel no interest in the matter,\u201d replied Mr. Gritton; \u201cI wish that,\ninstead of hunting up cases outside the house, you would manage to keep a\nlittle better order within it.\u201d\n\nLottie rose from her knees after her search, and timidly placed the\nweigher on the mantel-piece. She had recovered all the weights belonging\nto it but one, the smallest of the set, and that, in the dim light thrown\nby the solitary candle on the table, she had not been able to find.\nLottie was nervously afraid lest her master should examine the small\nmachine and find it imperfect.\n\n\u201cI will hunt for the little round thing in the morning, when no one is\nwatching me,\u201d thought Lottie, \u201cand I\u2019ll never rest then till I find\nit.\u201d The letter-weigher was the only elegant article which Gaspar\u2019s\nstudy contained; it had been a birth-day gift from his sister, and had\nparticularly attracted the admiration of Lottie, who, in her simplicity,\nhad taken the gilded ornament for gold. The loss of the little weight was\nto the young maid a sensible addition to her heavier troubles.\n\n\u201cIf I can\u2019t find that little gold bit, what on earth shall I do?\u201d thought\nLottie, with the fear before her mind of having to replace an article of\nvalue unknown; \u201cI dare say that it is worth half a sovereign, and master\nmay say that the whole thing is spoiled by its loss. How shall I ever\npay for it out of my wages, and just at a time when I would do anything\nto win more money for father? I\u2019ll get up early, so early to-morrow, and\nsearch every cranny in that room before any one else is about in the\nhouse.\u201d\n\nLottie Stone could hardly sleep that night from the many anxious thoughts\nwhich haunted her brain. She arose before dawn to hunt for the weight,\ncrept out of her little chamber, and softly descended the stairs to the\nstudy. She opened the shutters, but the stars were glimmering yet in\nthe deep blue sky, there was not sufficient light for her need. Lottie\nlighted a candle and began her search, under the table, the chairs, the\nfender, in every likely and unlikely place she hunted, but \u201cthe little\ngold bit\u201d was not to be found.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll move the table right to the wall, and pull up the drugget, maybe\nit has rolled under there,\u201d said Lottie to herself, exerting all her\nstrength to move the deal table, with Gaspar\u2019s heavy desk upon it, to the\nother side of the room.\n\nTo draw up the drugget was an easier task, and scarcely had it been\nremoved when, stuck between two of the boards which had been covered by\nthe cloth, Lottie to her great relief caught sight of the bright little\nweight.\n\nShe ran up to the spot, and tried to pick up the weight, but a foot had\ntrodden on it and pressed it in firmly. Lottie pulled harder, and to her\nextreme surprise found that in moving the weight she also moved one of\nthe planks between which it was jammed, while a previously imperceptible\nline crossed the breadth of three of them. Accident had discovered to\nLottie a most carefully concealed trap-door in the floor, in the spot\nwhich was usually covered both by the drugget and the table. With some\nlittle trouble Lottie managed to raise it, and with wondering curiosity\nshe peered down, still on her knees, into the dark vault below, into\nwhich there was a means of descent by a ladder. Stories that had been\ncurrent in the hamlet then recurred to the mind of Lottie, stories of\nthe caution and mystery used in the building of Wildwaste Lodge. She\nhad never heard that there were cellars beneath it, and a concealed\ntrap-door would be a strange kind of opening into one intended to contain\nonly wine. As Lottie bent over the dark recess, candle in hand, the\nlittle gilded weight which she had recovered slipped from her hold, and\nfell down into the vault below. It was needful again to search for it,\nand perhaps the young girl was not sorry for an excuse to explore a\nlittle further. Slowly and softly Lottie descended the ladder, carrying\nthe candle in her hand. When she had reached the bottom, she found\nherself in a brick-built vault; the air felt damp and chill, moisture\nstains gleamed faintly on the walls. On the further side was a door,\nclose to which the little weight had rolled. Lottie went and picked it\nup, and then pressed her hand against the door; it was not locked, but\nslightly ajar, and yielded to her pressure. Lottie could not resist the\ntemptation of entering the inner vault. It had brick walls and floor\nlike the first, but was not, like the first, perfectly empty. There\nwere low shelves, on which was ranged all the family plate which Mr.\nGritton had inherited from his father, silver candlesticks, salvers, and\ntureens, with curious old coins in cases, all looking dull and tarnished.\nThere were also yellow canvas bags ranged in order. Lottie put down her\ncandle, and, by a strong impulse of curiosity, raised one: it was very\nheavy in proportion to its size; she loosened the string round the mouth\nand glanced in\u2014it was full of golden sovereigns! The black eyes of\nLottie dilated\u2014she could scarcely breathe\u2014the hand which held the canvas\nbag trembled. The foolish young daughter of Eve had by her indiscreet\ncuriosity put herself into a position of sore temptation, she had given\nthe Enemy an advantage; he who had dared to breathe his deadly whisper in\nEden, was present to tempt in that dark deep vault.\n\n\u201cWhat a world of wealth is buried here, wealth useless to its owner,\nuseless to all the world! A few yellow pieces from one of those canvas\nbags would never be missed, while they would bring help to a long-lost\nfather, bring him back to his home, fill the heart of a mother with\ndelight.\u201d Nay, even the impious suggestion followed: \u201cThis discovery has\nnot been made by chance. Providence has guided you here to give you the\nmeans of helping your parents in the time of their greatest need.\u201d\n\nWell was it then for the tempted girl that prayer had become so habitual\nthat she intuitively turned to her God for guidance, as a child might\nturn to a parent. Then her pastor\u2019s words recurred to her memory, \u201cLet\nus especially beware that we use no means that are not sanctified by\nGod\u2019s blessing.\u201d It was Lottie\u2019s duty, indeed, to make every effort for\nher parents, but God\u2019s work must be only done in God\u2019s way. His blessing\ncould not rest on ill-gotten gold, and without that blessing what could\ncome but misery and shame? Lottie\u2019s faith was in trial; she was called\non to abstain from following the only course by which it seemed possible\nfor her to rescue her father. It was not by low covetousness, but by the\nstrong warm affections of the heart that the Tempter was seeking to draw\nthe simple child into guilt. It was a short, a painful struggle, and then\nfaith rose victorious. \u201cOh, no! how can I do this thing, and sin against\nGod!\u201d exclaimed Lottie aloud, and not trusting herself to look again at\nthe bags of treasure, she turned suddenly round\u2014and confronted her master!\n\nLottie started violently at the unexpected meeting with Gaspar; she then\nstood as if spell-bound, with her black eyes rivetted on his; she seemed\nto have no power to withdraw them, no power to utter another word. The\nsight of Mr. Gritton\u2019s sallow, shrunken countenance, looking to her\ncorpse-like in that dimly-lighted vault, exercised on the girl a kind of\nfascination, such as that which is attributed to the serpent\u2019s gaze.\n\n[Illustration: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.]\n\nGaspar had been roused from sleep by the sounds made by Lottie in the\nsearch for the gilded weight. He never enjoyed the deep refreshing\nslumber of a mind at rest; the miser was haunted by the fears that are\nnatural to one whose treasure is on earth, where thieves may break\nthrough and steal. Alarmed by the noise which he heard at an hour so\nunusually early, Gaspar had risen and partially dressed, his anxiety\nbeing increased by the recollection that he had forgotten to lock the\ndoor of the inner vault when last he had visited it, as he frequently\ndid, in the night-time. It was an infirmity of Gaspar, perhaps\noriginating in the shock caused to him by the loss of the _Orissa_, to\nfeel that his money was never so safe as when immediately under his eye;\nit was a satisfaction to the slave of Mammon to sleep over his buried\ntreasure. Mr. Gritton was, however, nervously sensitive to the danger\nof keeping large sums of money in an unguarded dwelling, especially in\nsuch a lawless neighbourhood as that of Wildwaste. He must hide from all\nthe knowledge of the existence of hoards which would tempt the burglar.\nWith this view Gaspar had caused vaults to be constructed with a special\nview to concealment: no one in Wildwaste knew of their existence. Mr.\nGritton did what he could to appear before men as a gentleman of very\nnarrow means; and though he had not succeeded in this, he had until now\nperfectly preserved the secret of a treasure kept under his house.\n\nIt was with annoyance and alarm that Gaspar now found his secret\ndiscovered. He could not doubt the honesty of Lottie, whose words he had\njust overheard; he was relieved to find that his vault had been entered\nby no more formidable intruder; but he anxiously revolved the means\nof preventing the discovery from spreading further, and stood sternly\nregarding the trembling girl for what appeared to her a fearfully long\ntime.\n\n\u201cYou have taken nothing?\u201d he asked at length; to Lottie his voice sounded\nhollow and terrible, breaking the painful silence.\n\n\u201cOh, no, sir\u2014you can search me\u2014I never thought\u2014;\u201d the girl checked\nherself in the midst of her sentence\u2014\u201cno, I mustn\u2019t say that, for I was\ntempted; but it was for my father.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never heard that you had a father living,\u201d said Gaspar.\n\n\u201cHe is living, and in great distress, at Southampton.\u201d\n\n\u201cHear me, girl,\u201d said the master sternly. \u201cI believe\u2014I know that you\nare honest, but I have no means of knowing that you are discreet; after\nwhat has happened I cannot suffer you to stay for one hour longer in\nthis house.\u201d Seeing that Lottie looked aghast at this summary dismissal,\nGaspar added more gently, \u201cI am going to exact from you a most solemn\npromise that you will never utter to any being a word of what you have\nseen this day, or of the cause of your being thus hastily dismissed from\nmy service.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must tell my mother,\u201d faltered Lottie, \u201cor she will think that I have\ndone something wrong; I never hide nothing from her.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must not tell your mother, nor your lady, nor any one,\u201d said Gaspar.\n\u201cI will make it worth your while to keep silence.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think that I could keep it,\u201d said poor Lottie.\n\nMr. Gritton laid his hand on one of the canvas bags, unloosed it, and\ntook out five pieces of gold. \u201cSee here, Lottie Stone,\u201d he said sternly;\n\u201cif you will not make a solemn promise to tell no one, I will at once\ngive you up to justice as a person found lurking, at a strange hour and\nunder suspicious circumstances, in a place where treasure is kept.\u201d He\nmarked that Lottie\u2019s rosy cheek blanched at the threat, and went on, \u201cIf\nyou will pledge yourself to the strictest secrecy, you shall take home\nthese five golden sovereigns; and if in the course of a year I find that\nnothing has transpired either of the cause of your leaving, or of the\nexistence of these vaults, I will give you five sovereigns more.\u201d\n\nA flash of joy beamed on the countenance of Lottie. So intense was her\ndesire to possess the very sum which her master offered to place in her\nhands, that to obtain it she would have been ready to sacrifice anything\nbut her conscience.\n\n\u201cO sir!\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cI will\u2014I do promise. I will never say one word\nabout this place, or what I have seen, or why you send me away\u2014I will\nrather die than speak!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou promise before God?\u201d said Gaspar solemnly, before he placed the\nmoney in the hand of the excited girl.\n\n\u201cI do, I do!\u201d exclaimed Lottie, and her fingers closed over the gold. She\nfelt that she had saved her father.\n\n\u201cNow go up, pack your bundle, and be off,\u201d said Gaspar; \u201cand never set\nfoot in Wildwaste again; and remember that guilt lies on your soul if you\nkeep not your promise to the letter.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay I not stay till I can bid good-bye to dear Miss Isa?\u201d pleaded Lottie.\n\n\u201cYou may not stay an hour; I do not choose that you should see her;\ntake your money and your clothes and be gone. Leave the candle; I will\nstay behind to make sure that all is right\u2014and to lock the door,\u201d added\nGritton, under his breath; \u201cI will not neglect that precaution again.\u201d\n\nLottie, tightly grasping her dearly-won treasure, mounted the ladder,\nand re-entered the study through the trap-door. She hastily replaced the\nlittle weight on its gilded stand, and then ran upstairs to make her\nbrief preparations for quitting Wildwaste for ever. Lottie soon put up\nher bundle, for her earthly possessions were few, and with it in her hand\ndescended the staircase. Tears gushed from her eyes as she reached the\ndoor of Isa\u2019s chamber; Lottie could not help lingering there for a minute\nto breathe a prayer for the young mistress so dearly beloved. \u201cOh! shall\nI never serve her again, never listen to her sweet kind voice, never comb\nout her long soft hair! What will she say of me, what will she think of\nme\u2014will she not call me the most ungrateful girl in the world?\u201d Lottie\u2019s\nheart swelled at the idea, and it was with a low stifled sob that she\nturned away from the door.\n\nShe found her master in the hall, himself unfastening the bolts of the\nouter door. Mr. Gritton was impatient to have the girl out of the house,\nand beyond the temptation of communicating with any one in the hamlet.\n\n\u201cYour father is in Southampton\u2014you had better join him there,\u201d observed\nGaspar. \u201cRemember your solemn promise of silence made in the sight of\nHeaven.\u201d\n\nLottie turned as she crossed the threshold, \u201cO sir\u2014pray\u2014at least\u2014let my\ndear mistress know that\u2014\u201d\n\nGaspar would not listen, he closed the door in her face, and Lottie\nfound herself alone with her bundle and her gold in the chill crisp air\nof early morning. A dim line of red in the east showed where the sun\nwould shortly rise, but as Lottie hastened through the hamlet there was\nnot the sound of a human voice to break the stillness; Wildwaste was\nstill asleep; in the great manufactory the busy hum of labour had not\nyet begun. But on the common, where the night dews lay heavy on fern and\nfurze-bush, the lark, an early riser, was already mounting on quivering\nwing, and pouring out his song of joy to greet the advancing morn.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nSUSPICIONS.\n\n\nLottie had proceeded more than half of her way to Axe before her mind\ncould realize her strange position, and the difficulties in which it must\ninvolve her. Her first thought had been of her father, her next of her\nyoung mistress; but every step that Lottie now took seemed to open to her\na new complication of troubles. She had lost her place, and how could\nshe expect to find a new one while she was utterly unable to explain why\nshe had so suddenly left the last? What should she say to Mr. Eardley,\nwho had taken such fatherly care to provide for her welfare? Poor Lottie\nbecame so utterly perplexed by her troubles, her first secret weighed\non her frank honest nature as such an intolerable chain, that she could\nhardly think of physical weariness or discomfort, though the distance to\nAxe was long to be traversed by a fasting girl; and ere Lottie came in\nsight of the quaint little town, a shower which wet her clothes through\nand through.\n\nThe world was beginning to show signs of being astir as Lottie entered\nthe High Street of Axe; tradesmen\u2019s boys were taking down their shutters,\nthe milkmaid was passing with her pails; the rain had ceased, and the\nclear morning sun was gleaming on the windows of the houses.\n\n\u201cWhy, Lottie Stone, what ever brings you here at this \u2019ere hour of the\nday?\u201d exclaimed Mrs. Green, the cobbler\u2019s stout wife, over whose little\nshop Deborah had her lodging.\n\nLottie muttered something, she knew not what, as she hurried through the\nshop. She ran up the steep dark staircase, and entered the room of her\nmother, whom she found in bonnet and shawl, with an old carpet-bag in\nher hand, as if about to set out on a journey. Deborah started at the\nunexpected entrance of her daughter, all wet with the rain, and flushed\nwith excitement and the fatigue of a long, weary walk.\n\n\u201cO mother, here, here\u2019s for father!\u201d exclaimed Lottie, eagerly holding\nout the five sovereigns which Mr. Gritton had given her.\n\n\u201cIt is from God!\u201d cried Deborah; \u201cHe has sent it\u2014praise be to His\ngoodness! Lottie, I\u2019ve scarce a minute to tell you of it, for I must be\noff to catch the train, but I\u2019m a-going to Southampton myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo Southampton!\u201d echoed Lottie in surprise.\n\n\u201cYes; there was another letter yesterday, not from my poor Abner,\nbut from his landlord: your father\u2019s worse again\u2014very ill; I\u2019ve been\na-borrowing, and begging, and scraping, and I\u2019ve just got money enough\nfor the journey; but these here five pounds have come as a blessing from\nHeaven! Mrs. Green has promised to do the ironing, and to tidy up things\nwhile I\u2019m away\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cShe need do nothing; I\u2019m here, I\u2019ve left my place,\u201d said Lottie.\n\n\u201cLeft your place!\u201d exclaimed Deborah, dropping on the table the five gold\npieces which her daughter had brought.\n\n\u201cLeft your place!\u201d repeated Mrs. Green, who had followed Lottie up the\nstairs, and who now turned a very inquisitive look on the money which had\nso unexpectedly and unaccountably been added to her neighbour\u2019s little\nstore.\n\nMrs. Stone had no time for questioning, though Lottie\u2019s few words had\nlaid a fresh burden of care on her grief-worn spirit. On Mrs. Green\u2019s\ninforming her that \u201cshe\u2019d better be off sharp, or she\u2019d miss the train,\u201d\nDeborah caught up her money and her carpet-bag, bade a hurried good-bye\nto her daughter and her son, and hastened off to the station. Mrs. Green\nremained in the little room, determined, as she said to herself, \u201cto get\nto the bottom of the business.\u201d\n\n\u201cI say, Lottie,\u201d she observed to the weary girl, who was taking off her\nwet bonnet and cloak, \u201cwas it you as brought them \u2019ere sovereigns to your\nmother?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the unsuspicious Lottie, wishing heartily that the stout\nlandlady would go and leave her to rest and collect her thoughts.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ve hardly earned \u2019em yet as wages, I take it.\u201d The shrewd, sharp,\nquestioning look of the woman put the young girl on her guard.\n\n\u201cHow did you manage to get them, eh?\u201d pursued Mrs. Green, peering into\nthe face of Lottie with an expression of suspicion which covered that\nface in a moment with a scarlet flush of indignation.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t tell you\u2014what is it to you?\u2014I got them honestly, you may be sure\nof that,\u201d stammered forth Lottie, as she pushed back the black hair from\nher heated cheeks.\n\n\u201cDid your master give \u2019em to you? he\u2019s not the kind of man for that sort\nof thing, or the world does him injustice.\u201d\n\n\u201cMrs. Green, would you be so kind as to leave us for a little,\u201d said\nLottie desperately; \u201cI am very, very, very tired, and\u2014;\u201d she knew not how\nto finish her sentence.\n\nThe cobbler\u2019s wife did not seem in the least inclined to go. She shook\nher head gravely, looked hard at the girl, and then shook her head again.\n\u201cBetter be open at once, Lottie Stone, you know I\u2019m your friend; I know\nall about your father, poor man! If you\u2019ve been a bit tempted, and\u2014\u201d\n\n[Illustration: LOTTIE AND MRS. GREEN.]\n\n\u201cThe money is honestly mine\u2014every penny of it\u2014how dare you say such\nthings?\u201d exclaimed the indignant girl.\n\n\u201cWell, then, you\u2019ve only to tell the simple truth how you came by it;\nthere\u2019s nothing to flare up about,\u201d said Mrs. Green, putting her stout\narms akimbo.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m not going to tell nothing; I want to be left quiet,\u201d cried Lottie,\nwho felt much inclined to burst into a passion of tears; while her simple\nbrother looked on in surprise, rubbing his shock of hair, as he was wont\nto do when perplexed.\n\nA third time Mrs. Green shook her head; solemnly, ominously she shook\nit. \u201cWell,\u201d she muttered, \u201cif girls will behave like that, after all the\nschooling, and praying, and preaching, and\u2014;\u201d the rest of the observation\nwas unheard by the Stones, as their landlady had left the room as she\nuttered it, slamming the door behind her. Lottie knew by her manner that\nthe cobbler\u2019s wife was offended; and was convinced that within an hour\nthe story of the five sovereigns would be spread all over Axe, as was\nalready that of Abner\u2019s arrival at Southampton, Deborah, in her efforts\nto procure money for her journey, having found it impossible to obey her\nhusband\u2019s injunction of secrecy.\n\n\u201cLottie, how _did_ you get all that money?\u201d asked her brother, as soon as\nMrs. Green\u2019s heavy clumping step was heard descending the stair.\n\n\u201cOh, don\u2019t you be a-worritting me too, Steady!\u201d exclaimed Lottie, calling\nthe lad by a name which Arthur Madden had given to him in the class, and\nwhich had clung to him, from its appropriateness, till it had almost\nsuperseded his own.\n\nSteady was not wont to \u201cworrit\u201d any one, and least of all the sister\nto whose brighter intelligence he had habitually looked up through his\nclouded boyhood, and whom he heartily loved. He was easily silenced, but\nnot easily relieved. He sat down by the casement to his usual occupation\nof cutting pegs, but ever and anon a heavy sigh came from the poor\nyouth\u2019s breast.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re troubled about father?\u201d asked Lottie, who was laying out the\nrough-dried linen which she was about to iron for her mother.\n\n\u201cI warn\u2019t a-thinking of father, but of that money,\u201d replied the lad, in\nhis slow, measured drawl: he had difficulty in putting even the most\nsimple thought into words.\n\n\u201cSteady, surely _you_ know me, _you_ can trust me!\u201d cried Lottie, with a\nswelling heart.\n\n\u201cI does trust you,\u201d said the lad emphatically, \u201cbut other folk won\u2019t;\u201d\nand with another sigh he relapsed into silence.\n\nVery sadly Lottie pursued her occupation of ironing. \u201cOh,\u201d thought she,\n\u201cI wish that I could smooth away all these difficulties, as I press\ndown the creases out of this linen! Father ill\u2014Mr. Arthur dying\u2014mother\naway\u2014and then this dreadful, dreadful promise! Oh, that I never had made\nit!\u201d\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s Mr. Eardley a-coming,\u201d said young Stone, looking out of the\nwindow.\n\nFor the first time the sound of her pastor\u2019s name was unwelcome to\nLottie, for the first time in her life she dreaded an interview with\nthe clergyman. What could she say to him, how explain to him what must\nappear so mysterious and strange?\n\nMr. Eardley crossed the road, and did not, as Lottie earnestly hoped,\npass the door of the cobbler\u2019s shop. She heard his foot on the stair, his\ntap at the door of the room. Lottie laid down her iron, courtesied on\nthe entrance of the clergyman, and remained with her eyes fixed on the\nground, her fingers nervously twitching the linen which lay on the table\nbeside her. She was not sufficiently collected to think of offering her\npastor a chair.\n\n\u201cLottie, I am sorry to hear that you have left your place,\u201d said Mr.\nEardley. \u201cYou seemed to be so happy and contented when I spoke to you\nlast Sunday, that I hoped that you would remain for many years at the\nLodge, and become in time a valuable servant.\u201d Mr. Eardley\u2019s address was\nfatherly and kind, but Lottie\u2019s only reply was in the big tears which\nrolled slowly down her flushed cheeks.\n\n\u201cCome, my child, speak frankly to one who has your true welfare at heart.\nDid you displease your lady? or had you some little difference with your\nfellow-servant?\u201d\n\nMr. Eardley paused for an answer, but no answer came.\n\n\u201cO Lottie, speak out!\u201d cried her brother, who had a child-like faith in\nthe wisdom as well as the kindness of their pastor.\n\nMr. Eardley was both perplexed and distressed by the strange reserve\nshown by one whose disposition he had hitherto found clear as daylight.\nHe had heard in an exaggerated form the story of the money which Lottie\nhad brought from Wildwaste, and very painful suspicions began to arise\nin his mind. Yet the clergyman shrank at first from saying a word that\nmight appear like a charge of dishonesty against one whose character had\nhitherto been without a stain.\n\n\u201cWhat did your lady say to your leaving her?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d was trembling upon the lips of the girl, but Lottie pressed\nthem together, and kept silent. She was aware that if by answering\nquestions she were led into telling anything, she would gradually be\ndrawn into telling all; it was only by preserving silence that she could\npossibly preserve the secret which she had solemnly promised to keep.\n\n\u201cLottie, why don\u2019t you speak?\u201d cried Steady in real distress.\n\n\u201cMiss Gritton appears to be so gentle and kind,\u201d pursued the clergyman.\n\n\u201cShe\u2019s an angel! I\u2019d die for her!\u201d interrupted Lottie, fairly breaking\ndown, and bursting into a fit of loud sobbing.\n\n\u201cDo you not think that, if you have displeased her, she might be\npersuaded to overlook a fault, and take you back?\u201d suggested Mr. Eardley,\nglad that at least the girl\u2019s obstinate silence was broken.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t go back!\u201d sobbed Lottie.\n\n\u201cAnd wherefore not?\u201d inquired Mr. Eardley.\n\n\u201cLottie, do, do speak,\u201d pleaded her brother.\n\nThe poor girl was in bitter distress. A false idea of honour has led many\na duellist to face the fire of an enemy, but never did the most nervous\nspirit more shrink from such an ordeal than did that of the little\nservant-maid from that which she now had to pass through. Influenced by\nthe highest sense of honour\u2014conscientious respect for a promise\u2014Lottie\nstood the mark of questions, each of which seemed to strike her in the\ntenderest part. She had more than filial reverence for her pastor: to\nstand well in his favour, to do credit to his care, had been one of the\nhighest objects of her ambition; to grieve, displease, disappoint him,\nwas misery to which she could hardly have believed it possible that she\nshould ever be exposed. Mr. Eardley, on his part, found the interview\nvery painful. He had regarded Lottie Stone as one of the most promising\ngirls under his pastoral charge; she was so simple-minded, affectionate,\nand pious; he could have trusted her with money uncounted; were she to\nprove ungrateful and unworthy, in whom could he henceforth trust? The\nclergyman was very patient and tender, but he was also very faithful.\nFor more than an hour he stood in that little room, plying the silent,\nmiserable girl with questions that put her to the torture, appealing\nto her reason, her affections, her conscience; exhorting, reproving,\nentreating\u2014doing all that lay in his power to overcome her inexplicable\nreserve. Mr Eardley saw that Lottie\u2019s character, that most precious\nof earthly possessions, was at stake; that if she continued silent, a\nmerciless world would believe the worst. He explained this again and\nagain; and Lottie, in anguish of soul, felt how true was every word\nwhich he uttered. And yet, had she not promised before God? was it not\nbetter to endure suspicions than to incur sin? Not all the efforts of her\npastor, backed by the entreaties of her simple-hearted brother, could\nforce the poor girl from the position to which conscience had fastened\nher, like a baited creature fixed to the stake.\n\nAt length, disappointed and disheartened, Mr. Eardley took his leave,\npromising, however, soon to return. Lottie wrung her hands in silent\nmisery as she heard the door close behind him. \u201cThere,\u201d she thought,\n\u201cgoes the kindest, most generous of friends, wearied out at last, and\nthinking me an ungrateful and wicked girl. Oh, I could have borne\nanything better than this!\u201d\n\nLottie was not to have even a breathing-space of relief. Not five minutes\nafter the departure of Mr. Eardley, the baronet\u2019s carriage drove up to\nthe door of the cobbler\u2019s shop, with Isa and her cousin within. Its\napproach was announced to Lottie by her brother\u2019s exclamation, \u201cHere\ncomes your mistress a-looking arter ye now!\u201d\n\n\u201cI think all this will drive me mad!\u201d cried Lottie, pressing both her\nhands to her burning temples.\n\nIsa had been much surprised, and even alarmed, on being informed by\nHannah at an early hour that morning that \u201cthat there girl Lottie\u201d had\n\u201crun away without saying a word to nobody; taken her bundle, and gone\nclean off.\u201d Isa could in no way account for the sudden departure of\nher young servant, except by imagining that she had taken offence at\nsomething, and that perhaps something wild and gipsy-like in her nature\ncorresponded with her somewhat gipsy-like appearance.\n\n\u201cTo go without saying a word to me, kind and indulgent as I ever have\nbeen, seems so strange, so ungrateful,\u201d observed Isa to her brother, when\nshe mentioned to him at breakfast a fact of which he had had much earlier\nnotice than herself.\n\n\u201cNo accounting for the vagaries of a raw, untutored village rustic,\u201d\nobserved Gaspar, applying to his snuff-box; and he was ungenerous enough\nto add, in order to cover his own confusion, \u201cYou had better count up the\nspoons.\u201d\n\n\u201cI could answer for Lottie\u2019s honesty,\u201d said Isa.\n\nSo could Gaspar Gritton, for he had seen it put to the proof; he had seen\nthe \u201craw, untutored village rustic\u201d withstand a temptation under which\nhe, an educated man, calling himself a gentleman, had basely succumbed.\nBut Gaspar felt himself placed in a position of difficulty. He would\nprobably have at once told his sister all the circumstances connected\nwith Lottie\u2019s dismissal, had it not been for Isa\u2019s having spoken to him\non the subject of the _Orissa_. Gaspar shrank from avowing to one who,\nas he knew, suspected _his_ honesty, that he actually had a large sum of\nmoney concealed in a vault.\n\n\u201cWhat could have induced the girl to take such a step?\u201d said Isa,\nfollowing the current of her own thoughts. \u201cHannah is as much in the dark\nas ourselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally,\u201d observed Gaspar peevishly, \u201cthe subject is not worth the\ntrouble of considering. Such an insignificant cipher may go, or stay, or\nhang herself; it matters not the turn of a straw to us.\u201d\n\nA feeling of indignation swelled the heart of Isa, and it cost her an\neffort to give it no outward expression. Isa was not one of those who\nregard the humbler members of a household as mere pieces of furniture,\nto be discarded when faulty, or neglected when worn out, without a\nthought or a care. She looked upon them as fellow-Christians and\nfellow-immortals, over whom the position of master or mistress gives\nan influence for which an account must one day be rendered. Added to\nthis, Lottie\u2019s simplicity, warmth of heart, and the knowledge of her\nearly trials, had engaged in her behalf the kindly interest of her young\nmistress. Isa\u2019s anxiety on account of her run-away servant was not only a\nmatter of conscience, but a matter of feeling also.\n\nAfter some minutes of silence, Isa exclaimed, as if she had suddenly\nfound a clue for which she had been searching, \u201cIt must have been your\nwords to her yesterday evening.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat words do you mean?\u201d asked Gaspar.\n\n\u201cYou said that she must have been drinking. Such a sentence, though\nlightly spoken, would wound her deeply, for she would think it an\nallusion to the well-known vice of her father, whom, poor child, she\nloves so dearly.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally,\u201d observed Mr. Gritton, with a short, harsh laugh, \u201cwe must be\ncareful now-a-days where we blow thistle-down, lest it should wound some\nsensitive maid-of-all-work!\u201d He was not sorry that Isa should suggest\nsome cause for Lottie\u2019s sudden flight that was remote from the real one.\n\n\u201cI cannot rest till I know all, and have seen the poor girl,\u201d thought\nIsa; \u201cI will go over to the Castle at once, and ask Edith to take me in\nthe carriage to Axe.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nEVIL TONGUES.\n\n\n\u201cI will not go in with you, Isa dear,\u201d said Edith, as the carriage\napproached the little country town. \u201cLottie will speak to you more freely\nif no one is by. I hope that we shall be able to carry back with us to\nWildwaste your runaway little gipsy maid.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure that we shall,\u201d replied Isa. \u201cLottie is an affectionate girl,\nand loves me. I must chide her a little, but gently; she is one with whom\na short reproof will go a long way.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd all your scourges are made of feathers, like those in the\nfairy-tale,\u201d said Edith with a smile, as the carriage rolled up to the\ndoor of Mrs. Green\u2019s shop.\n\nCourteously declining the guidance of the cobbler\u2019s stout wife, Isa\nlightly ascended the stair to the lodging above. She entertained not\nthe slightest doubt of succeeding in bringing back her truant; her only\nsubject of consideration was how far reproof should be blended with\nkindness. Lottie\u2019s strange conduct had given her mistress just cause of\noffence; it must not be overlooked, though in Isa\u2019s heart it was already\nforgiven.\n\nThe lady tapped at the door, and entered the room where Lottie stood\ntrembling. Her face was buried in her hands; but Isa could see the red\nburning flush on her neck. The girl\u2019s attitude was so expressive of\nhumiliation and grief, that her gentle mistress forgot at once all her\nintended rebuke.\n\n\u201cMy poor Lottie, what has happened?\u201d There was nothing but kindness and\nsympathy in the voice which uttered the question.\n\nThe tears trickled through Lottie\u2019s brown fingers; but she did not remove\nher hands or raise her head.\n\n\u201cWhat has happened?\u201d repeated Isa, addressing herself to the lad, who had\nrisen from his seat on the entrance of the lady.\n\nSteady tugged hard at the button of his jacket; his nostrils dilated;\nhe looked first to one side and then to the other, an image of dull\nperplexity. He jerked out the answer, \u201cShe won\u2019t tell no one;\u201d and then,\nunable to bear another interview like that which had just passed between\nhis sister and Mr. Eardley, the poor lad shuffled hastily out of the room.\n\nIsa went up to Lottie Stone, and gently laid her hand on her shoulder.\n\u201cIf you have had anything to pain and distress you, open your heart to\nme. I am not angry with you, Lottie, though you did wrong to leave the\nhouse without giving notice. I am willing to take you back if you tell me\nfrankly the cause of your going.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t tell,\u201d replied Lottie in a choking voice.\n\n[Illustration: MISS ISA QUESTIONS LOTTIE.]\n\n\u201cSomething that was said distressed you, perhaps. Was it what your master\nspoke about drinking, when you threw down the weights last evening?\u201d\n\nIsa\u2019s question suddenly opened for the young maid a little door of\nescape. The lady had found out a cause for Lottie\u2019s strange conduct\nwhen she herself could give none. Would there be any harm in leaving\nMiss Gritton to think, and to lead others to think, that the whole\nstrange affair had arisen from a burst of passionate feeling, caused\nby an accusation which had been both unjust and cruel? A disingenuous\ngirl would have gladly availed herself of the lady\u2019s mistaken view, and\nhave left her to form her own conclusions from it. But Lottie had the\nstraightforward simplicity of one in whose spirit there is no guile. She\nshook her head on Isa\u2019s repeating her question, and her mistress remained\nmore perplexed than ever. Isa felt, as Mr. Eardley had felt, surprised,\ndiscouraged, and at length a little displeased. Lottie would neither\napologize, nor explain, nor consent to go back to her place. No sentence\ncould be wrung from her lips but a repetition of \u201cI can\u2019t tell,\u201d \u201cI can\nnever go back;\u201d and yet her manner expressed fervent, grateful affection\ntowards her young mistress. Isa was convinced that the girl\u2019s obstinate\nreserve was not that of indifference or of pride.\n\n\u201cLottie, you quite grieve me,\u201d said Isa at length, as she turned to\ndepart, lingering at the open door with her fingers on the handle, to\ngive the girl an opportunity of calling her back.\n\nLottie clutched her own black hair with both her hands, and tore it,\nas if physical pain could relieve the anguish of her heart. She turned\nsuddenly away to the window, to escape as far as she could from the\npresence of her lady. Edith, waiting in the carriage below, chanced to\nglance up at the moment, and caught sight of a young face clouded with an\nexpression of such misery as she had never seen on a countenance before.\n\nIn the meantime, Mr. Eardley, having resolved, if possible, to clear\nup the mystery, and at least ascertain whether poor Lottie were not\nunjustly accused of dishonesty, walked over to Wildwaste Lodge. He was\nmuch disappointed at not finding Miss Gritton at home, but asked for an\ninterview with her brother.\n\n\u201cMaster ain\u2019t very well, he don\u2019t see visitors,\u201d said Hannah, who,\ngrumbling at being left to do all the work of the house, had come\nout from the kitchen smoothing her soiled apron and pulling down her\ntucked-up sleeves.\n\n\u201cI have walked from Axe, being anxious to speak on a matter of some\nimportance,\u201d said the heated and weary clergyman. \u201cPray, ask Mr. Gritton\nto have the kindness to see me but for five minutes.\u201d\n\nUshered into the study, Mr. Eardley almost immediately entered on the\nobject of his visit. Gaspar was embarrassed; he had not contemplated the\ndifficulties which must arise from Lottie\u2019s faithful adherence to her\npromise.\n\n\u201cReally, sir, I can\u2019t be answerable for\u2014I can\u2019t be expected to know\nanything about the doings of a girl like Lottie.\u201d Gaspar took a large\npinch of snuff to cover his embarrassment.\n\n\u201cBut what I am most anxious to ascertain is this: has anything been\nmissed here, is there the slightest cause to suspect the young girl of\ndishonesty?\u201d Gaspar could not meet the gaze of the clear eyes that were\nfixed upon him.\n\n\u201cNo; she\u2019s no thief; she\u2019s awkward, ignorant, but honest\u2014yes, perfectly\nhonest.\u201d The words were spoken as if with effort, and again Gaspar had\nrecourse to his snuff-box.\n\n\u201cThat is a great relief to me; that is what I wanted to ascertain. I\nthank you, Mr. Gritton,\u201d said the clergyman, rising; \u201cI need not longer\nintrude on your time.\u201d\n\nAs Mr. Eardley was about to depart, Isa returned from her fruitless\nexpedition to Axe. To her the presence of the vicar was ever welcome, and\nmore than usually so at the present moment. She eagerly related to him\nall that had happened, as far as her knowledge extended, emphatically\nconfirming Gaspar\u2019s testimony as to the perfect honesty of poor Lottie.\n\nThe interview did not last as long as either Henry Eardley or Isa would\nhave wished, as Hannah came clattering in with the tray to prepare for\nearly dinner. It would have been an act of common courtesy to have asked\nthe weary minister to stop and partake of the meal. Isa glanced at her\nbrother, without whose assent she dared not give the invitation which\nwas upon her lips, but Gaspar did not choose to understand the look;\nhospitality was foreign to his nature, and to his sister\u2019s mortification\nhe suffered the tired guest to depart unrefreshed.\n\nHenry Eardley left the Lodge with a joyous feeling of a more complicated\nnature than would have arisen only from satisfaction at having been\nrelieved of painful doubts in regard to a member of his flock. His\nthoughts were by no means absorbed by the case of Lottie, though he went\nout of his way to let it be known in the cottage of Holdich, and in\nvarious dwellings in Axe, that the young maid had not been dismissed for\nany fault, and that she had taken nothing with her that was not honestly\nher own.\n\nMr. Eardley did what he could to clear the character of Lottie from\nthe imputation resting upon it; but it is as easy to force back an\noverflowing river into its usual channel as to stay the flood of calumny\nwhen once it has spread far and wide. The vicar could not throw light on\nthe mystery of Lottie\u2019s hasty flight from Wildwaste, or her possession of\na considerable sum of money for which she would not account.\n\n\u201cFolk may talk till they\u2019re black in the face,\u201d said Mrs. Green to\nher neighbour the baker, \u201cbut they can\u2019t talk away them five bright\nsovereigns as I seed with these eyes. Girls can\u2019t make gold pieces out\nof old tea-leaves; and if any one gave \u2019em to her, why don\u2019t she say so\nat once?\u201d\n\nYoung Stone returned to his lodging that evening with a black eye and a\ngreat swelling on his brow.\n\n\u201cO Steady, you have had one of your falls!\u201d exclaimed Lottie, with\naffectionate sympathy.\n\nThe lad\u2019s face was working with suppressed emotion. He sat down heavily,\nand passed his hand through his mass of shaggy light hair before he\nreplied in his slow, peculiar drawl,\u2014\n\n\u201cBat Maule says\u2014says he\u2014you took fifteen pounds from your master\u2019s desk,\nand he was a-goin\u2019 to send you to jail, only Miss Isa begged and prayed,\nand so he let you off.\u201d\n\nIt was a long speech for the lad to utter; his drawled-out words fell on\nLottie\u2019s ear like the drip, drip of water, which is said at length to\nproduce madness in the victim on whose head it descends.\n\n\u201cAnd what did you say?\u201d exclaimed the miserable Lottie, starting up from\nher seat.\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t say nothing, I knocked him down,\u201d replied Steady; \u201cbut he did\nthe like by me.\u201d\n\nThe lad pressed his rag of a handkerchief against his bruised and swollen\nforehead\u2014the stain of blood was upon it.\n\n\u201cHurt for me!\u201d moaned Lottie, whose courage was beginning to give way\nunder her complicated trials.\n\n\u201cI wish you\u2019d clear up about that money,\u201d her brother went on, \u201c\u2019cause\nI can\u2019t knock down all them folk as talk, and I can\u2019t stand hearing \u2019em\ncall you a thief.\u201d\n\nLottie went up to the lad, threw her arms round his neck, and sobbed on\nhis shoulder.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t take on so\u2014don\u2019t take on so,\u201d said poor weak-witted Steady, almost\nbeginning himself to cry in his rough sympathy with his sister. \u201cI trust\nyou, Lottie, you ain\u2019t no thief; but why\u2014why won\u2019t you clear up?\u201d\n\nAnd still that painful silence had to be maintained, that cruel promise\nhad to be kept. A hundred times was Lottie on the point of breaking it,\nbut simple faith kept her firm in temptation. To break her word would\nbe to disobey her Lord; it was better to suffer than to sin. \u201cBut oh!\u201d\nthought Lottie, \u201cit\u2019s a blessing that mother is away; how could I have\nkept any secret from her!\u201d\n\nPoor Steady\u2019s rude championship of his sister had been worse than\nuseless; it only, as was the case with any violent excitement, brought\non one of his sudden attacks, which, though very brief in duration, were\nalways distressing, and very painful to witness. Sleep, however, soon\nremoved from the afflicted lad all consciousness of earthly trouble;\nbut for Lottie there was no rest throughout all the night. She heard the\nchurch-clock strike every hour as she lay on her pallet-bed, almost too\nwretched even for tears.\n\n\u201cBut oh,\u201d thought the poor girl, \u201cit\u2019s such a comfort that there is One\nwho knows all; He knows that I did no wrong, except\u2014except in letting\ncuriosity lead me on, and touching that bag of gold, and thinking those\nwicked, covetous thoughts. But He has forgiven me\u2014I feel that He has,\nthough He lets me suffer for my folly. It seems as if all my friends\nand my comforts were being a-taken from me together. Mother away\u2014father\nill\u2014Mr. Eardley and my dear lady vexed and displeased\u2014all my neighbours\nturning against me\u2014even poor Steady scarcely knowing what to think of\nme, though he will never desert me. It is just as Mr. Eardley said in\nhis lecture, all my blossoms are falling from the tree.\u201d The idea linked\nitself on to others connected with Gideon when his faith was in trial,\nwhen, just before the struggle with the foe, he was constrained to\ndeprive himself of the help of those on whose support he had counted.\n\u201cIt must have seemed strange and hard to him,\u201d mused Lottie, \u201cto have\nhad the greater part of his friends sent from him, with all these fierce\nenemies gathering in front. Now it seems as if my Midianites were getting\nstronger than ever, and I more helpless against them. There\u2019s dreadful\nDisappointment, and worse than Discontent, and I seem at Dissension with\nall my neighbours, though I never willingly did them wrong; and as for\nDistrust, \u2019tis just crushing me down, for I can\u2019t see any way out of my\ntroubles, and it looks as if the Lord had forsaken me. And now those of\nwhom I would have said, \u2018They will always comfort and care for me and\ntrust me,\u2019 are those who cause me most grief and pain. They are still\ngood, patient, and kind; yet I have, as it were, to send them from me,\nand struggle with temptation alone. But God gave victory to Gideon in a\nway that man would not have thought of. It was not to make him really\nweaker that he was deprived of his friends; I suppose that it was to make\nhim rest more entirely on God. Perhaps that is why a poor child like me\nis left so desolate now. I look to this side, and to that side, and no\none seems able to help me; and then, when there\u2019s hope nowhere else, I\nlook up straight to my God. I should like to hear more of what happened\nto Gideon. I think that I could walk to Mrs. Holdich\u2019s cottage on Friday\nwith Steady, who goes whenever he can. It would be dreadful, indeed, to\nface all the people; do they not look upon me as a thief! And yet,\u201d said\nthe poor girl, half aloud, raising herself on her elbow, as the first\nmorning ray glimmered through her casement, \u201cI should like to show to\nall that I am not ashamed, that I dare show my face before my accusers.\nI should like Mr. Eardley to see that I prize his holy words\u2014for, oh!\nI need them\u2014I need the comfort and strength which only religion can\ngive. It would be a pleasure, too, to look on the face of my sweet young\nmistress; I would not speak to her\u2014oh, no\u2014but I do so long to see her;\nand I would quietly slip away as soon as the prayer was done.\u201d\n\nThe resolution thus taken seemed to calm the mind of Lottie, or perhaps\nNature at last was claiming her rights, and sorrow of mind gave way to\noverpowering weariness of body. Deeply and peacefully the young girl\nslept, with her hands folded as if in prayer.\n\nLottie rose with a brave spirit, though a heavy heart; she was resolved\nto seek comfort in a clear conscience toward man and a humble confidence\nin her God, however painful might be the struggle before her. Lottie did\nnot sit down in idle sorrow, though she shrank from quitting her lodging;\nfor wherever she went she would have to encounter suspicious looks and\ncruel taunts. The young maid read her chapter, and said her prayers with\nher brother, and after giving him his simple breakfast, set resolutely\nto work to prepare, as she said, for her parents\u2019 return. The room was\nthoroughly washed and scrubbed\u2014even the window-panes cleaned; and when\nthe little place had been made the picture of neatness, Lottie turned to\nmending her brother\u2019s garments, in which many a darn and many a patch\nshowed the skill of her busy fingers. The most trying event of the day\nto Lottie was a second long interview with her pastor; but she again\nresisted the almost overpowering temptation to pour out her whole heart\nto him, and to tell him all that had happened. It was a satisfaction to\nfind that Mr. Eardley had no suspicion of her honesty, notwithstanding\nthe mystery regarding the money; and that Miss Gritton had never doubted\nthat honesty for a moment. Lottie saw that the clergyman was now rather\nperplexed than displeased by her reserve; and when, with her honest eyes\nlooking full into his, she assured him that if he knew all he would not\nblame her silence, it was a relief to the poor child to feel that he had\nnot lost faith in her word.\n\nFriday brought no tidings from Southampton. Lottie felt keenly \u201cthe\nsickening pang of hope deferred,\u201d and she had now but little occupation\nwherewith to fill up the tedious hours. The day passed slowly and\nwearily, till it was time to start for the cottage-meeting. Glad was\nLottie to leave Axe, though only for a space so brief; the cottage\nof Holdich was connected in her mind only with thoughts of holiness\nand peace, and she was thankful to be permitted still to kneel as a\nworshipper there.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nLECTURE V.\u2014FAITH CONFIRMED.\n\n\nThe Lord is mindful of His own, He remembereth His people. He may,\nindeed, permit faith to be put to sharp trial, but His love supports\nHis servant through it. If, as in the case of Gideon, God removeth\nearthly friends; if He take from us the prop of human aid, He can supply\nother props, and even from the enemy\u2019s camp. When friends are silent,\nencouragement can come from the lips of a foe. A Balaam, eager to curse,\nhas been made an instrument to bless.\n\nStrong as was the faith of Gideon, we cannot wonder if a feeling of\nmisgiving arose in his mind when he looked on the handful of men to which\nhis force had been reduced. How was it possible that they should meet\nthe shock of battle with the multitudes of Midian? They were brave and\nresolute men, they would follow him to the death; would it not be indeed\n_to the death_; had he not been selecting victims for slaughter rather\nthan warriors for conquest? We must conclude that some such thoughts as\nthese troubled the spirit of Gideon, from the very circumstance of God\u2019s\nfinding it needful thus to strengthen his faith:\n\n\u201cArise, get thee down unto the host; for I have delivered it into thine\nhand,\u201d said the Lord. \u201cBut if thou fear to go down, go thou with Phurah\nthy servant down to the host: and thou shalt hear what they say; and\nafterward shall thine hands be strengthened to go down unto the host.\u201d\n\nIt could not have been personal fear that weighed upon the soul of\nGideon; his anxious care must have been for the safety of others, for\nthe success of the effort to free his country, or formidable would have\nappeared the adventure which he was called to undertake almost alone.\nBut Gideon appears to have had no hesitation or fear in trusting his own\nlife to God\u2019s providential care. We picture to ourselves the leader, with\nhis single attendant, silently treading the path towards the enemy\u2019s\ncamp, lighted by the glimmering stars in the dark blue midnight sky.\nHow wide spreads the camp of Amalek and Midian, how innumerable seem\nthe dark tents within which are slumbering foes, \u201clike grasshoppers\nfor multitude,\u201d with their camels tethered around, \u201cas the sand by the\nsea-side for multitude!\u201d Nor are all amongst the host sleeping: Gideon\nhears the sound of voices in converse as he approaches the tents. The\nman of God stands still, as conscious that what he will hear will be a\nmessage from God to himself.\n\n[Illustration: GIDEON LISTENING.]\n\n\u201cBehold, I dreamed a dream,\u201d said one of the Midianites to his companion,\nlittle guessing on whose ear his words would fall; \u201cand, lo, a cake of\nbarley bread tumbled into the host of Midian, and came unto a tent, and\nsmote it that it fell, and overturned it, that the tent lay along.\n\n\u201cAnd his fellow answered and said, This is nothing else, save the sword\nof Gideon the son of Joash, a man of Israel: for into his hand hath God\ndelivered Midian, and all the host.\u201d\n\nThe message from the Lord had been given, and Gideon required no more.\nThere, close to the unconscious enemy, he worshipped; then returning with\nrenewed faith and hope to the warriors of Israel, he cried, \u201cArise, for\nthe Lord hath delivered into your hand the host of Midian!\u201d\n\nBrethren, are we to look for such encouragements now? The age of\nmiracles, it may be said, is past; we must rest upon what has already\nbeen revealed, nor seek for wonders and signs to encourage our feeble\nfaith. Yet, without interrupting the course of nature, God has His own\nway of giving strength to the weak and joy to the sorrowful. An instance\nof this, which occurred during the fearful Indian Mutiny, suggests itself\nto my mind. Two ladies and a child were prisoners in the power of the\ncruel enemy, who had destroyed the brother of one of them by blowing\nhim from a gun. Great must have been the anguish of mind, the fears of\nthese captive ladies\u2014they were encompassed, as it were, by the hosts of\nMidian; could faith endure the fiery trial? The child fell sick, medicine\nwas asked for, and the captors gave it wrapped up in a soiled piece of\npaper. Who would have guessed that through the enemy of our name and\nof our faith would be sent medicine not only for the body but the soul?\nWith wondering joy the ladies discovered that the scrap of paper was\na leaf torn from an English Bible, and containing such a portion of\nScripture as was most exactly suited for their comfort and refreshment.\nWith what emotions must the poor prisoners have received such a message\nfrom God as this, conveyed through the enemy\u2019s hand: _I, even I, am He\nthat comforteth you: who art thou, that thou shouldest be afraid of a man\nthat shall die, and of the son of man which shall be made as grass; and\nforgettest the Lord thy Maker, that hath stretched forth the heavens, and\nlaid the foundations of the earth; and hast feared continually every day\nbecause of the fury of the oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy? and\nwhere is the fury of the oppressor? The captive exile hasteneth that he\nmay be loosed, and that he should not die in the pit, nor that his bread\nshould fail_ (Isa. li. 12-15).\n\nDoubtless these captive Englishwomen received those blessed verses as\na promise from God, even as Gideon did the Midianite\u2019s relation of his\ndream, and in their dreary prison bowed their heads and worshipped.\nThe ladies were delivered from the fury of the oppressor; the captive\nexiles were loosed; and surely with them, as with Gideon, would faith be\nconfirmed, not only for the present time of peril, but through all the\nsucceeding years of life.\n\nWhen we regard faith, as we have been doing during this course of brief\nlectures, under the emblem of a fruit tree, we must remember that it is\nno standard rearing itself aloft in the pride of its strength, but a\nplant in itself but feeble, which must lean on the Rock of Ages; which,\neven when its branches are fullest of swelling fruit, needs the props,\nthe supports which God\u2019s grace only can give. Without these supports how\nthe branches would lie low on the earth, their fruit be defiled with its\ndust! How constantly in the history of God\u2019s people do we find strong\nconsolation given at the moment when faith is most ready to fail! To\nJacob, a lonely, benighted wanderer, is sent a bright beam of heaven.\nDoes he fear to encounter an angry brother? the angel of the Lord meets\nhim and blesses. Joshua, ere commencing an arduous campaign, receives the\npromise, _I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee_. To David comes the\nassurance of his final triumph from the lips of the very enemy engaged\nin hunting for his life: _I know well that thou shalt surely be king,\nand that the kingdom of Israel shall be established in thine hand_. But\nI need not multiply instances of which the Scripture records are so\nfull; now, as when He dwelt upon earth, our gracious Saviour says to the\nanxious, afflicted spirit, _Be not afraid, only believe_; and to His\ndisciples entering on the conflict with sore temptation, _Let not your\nhearts be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in Me_.\n\nRest, therefore, ye afflicted servants of God, on the promises made by\nyour heavenly Master. The night of trouble may be around you, enemies\nmay be before you, difficulties may press you from without, temptation\nassail you from within; but this is no proof that God has forsaken you.\nAre you looking to Him, trusting in Him; are you ready, like Gideon, to\ngo forth in His strength to fight His battle against every besetting\nsin? Then fear not, for He is on your side; _heaviness endureth for a\nnight, but joy cometh in the morning_; nay, more, the Lord giveth _songs\nin the night_, even before the darkness passeth away the tried one, like\nGideon, may worship God and rejoice. The believer goes from strength to\nstrength, even as day by day on the bough the fruit ripens and swells\ntowards perfection. There is a growth in grace, an increase in love and\nin submission, which is visible even to the world.\n\n_The salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: He is their strength in\nthe time of trouble. And the Lord shall help them, and deliver them: He\nshall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in\nHim._\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nDISCLOSURE.\n\n\n\u201cI am certain,\u201d reflected Isa Gritton, as she retired to rest on that\nnight, \u201cthat Lottie Stone bears a clear conscience, whatever her reason\nfor silence may be. How her poor face, worn and anxious as it looked at\nfirst, brightened when she heard of the support which God gives to the\nfaith of His people in time of need. I wish that I had had an opportunity\nof speaking to her after the service was ended, but when I rose from my\nknees and looked for her, she was gone. I trust her\u2014yes, I will trust\nher. Is there not a certain degree of faith which Christians should\nextend one to another, as it is the property of charity that it _thinketh\nno evil_?\u201d\n\nLottie and her strange conduct had been much on the mind of Isa, and when\nshe came to breakfast on the following morning it was with the intention\nof proposing again to drive over to Axe for a second interview with her\ntruant little maid. But thoughts of Lottie were driven away for the time\nby a subject of closer personal interest.\n\nWhen Isa entered the breakfast-room a little later than usual, she found\nGaspar there already, pacing up and down the apartment with a letter in\nhis hand, which had come by the early post. He looked restless, excited,\nand angry, and Isa saw that no light cause of annoyance disturbed him,\nbefore he broke forth with the angry question, \u201cIs this your doing, Isa;\nhave I to thank you for this?\u201d and thrust into the hand of his sister the\nnote which he had just received.\n\nThe epistle did not look at all formidable; it was brief, written on\ntinted paper, and in a lady\u2019s handwriting. It was no formal law document,\nyet had it been read with much the same emotions as a summons to the bar\nof justice might have been. With anxiety, mingled with interest, Miss\nGritton read as follows:\u2014\n\n                                                    LONDON, _May 1_.\n\n    SIR,\u2014I have just received information which has greatly\n    surprised me, to the effect that the \u00a34000 which I had been led\n    to believe had been invested in property lost in the _Orissa_\n    was actually invested in the cargo of the _St. Christopher_,\n    which safely arrived at its destination, and, as I am given\n    to understand, realized a profit of fifty per cent. I shall\n    place the affair in the hands of my lawyer unless I receive\n    a satisfactory explanation from yourself. As a personal\n    interview is desirable, I shall go immediately to Axe, which\n    is, I understand, in your neighbourhood, and either appoint\n    an hour for meeting you at the hotel, or, as I am acquainted\n    with your sister, call on Miss Gritton and see you in her\n    presence.\u2014I have the honour to be, &c.,\n\n                                                        CORA MADDEN.\n\n\u201cGaspar, I had nothing to do with this; Cora has learned nothing from\nme,\u201d said Isa, as she returned the note to her brother.\n\nHe looked at her with a keen, suspicious gaze; but she met it with that\nfrank, open glance which carries conviction of truthfulness even to the\nsceptical mind.\n\nGaspar pressed his hand to his brow, which was furrowed with deep lines\nof perplexity and care. \u201cIt must have been through the captain,\u201d he\nmuttered to himself; \u201cand yet I thought\u2014but no matter, she\u2019s on the scent\nnow, wherever she took it up. Isa, you must stand by me,\u201d nervously added\nMr. Gritton; \u201cyou must help me through this difficulty.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow can I help you?\u2014I do not fully understand even the nature of the\ndifficulty,\u201d said Isa. She paused to give her brother an opportunity for\nexplanation, but he only had recourse to his snuff-box. Isa pressed him\nno further; she had a painful conviction, as she looked upon her unhappy\nbrother, that he was unable to give any explanation which would satisfy\nher own sense of honour.\n\n[Illustration: GASPAR\u2019S ALARM.]\n\nThe state of the case may be briefly laid before the reader. Gaspar had\nalready invested largely himself in the cargo of the _Orissa_, when he\nhad received directions in regard to the money of Miss Madden. Unwilling\nthat her interests should clash with his own, the _Orissa_ being the\nfastest sailer on the line, and the hope of large profits depending much\non being first in the market, Gaspar had placed the property of his\nclient in the _St. Christopher_, intending to apprise the lady that he\nhad been unable to ship in the vessel which had first started. While yet\nin the Channel, the _Orissa_ had foundered in a storm, with Gaspar\u2019s\ninvestment in her hold. The loss of so much property had been a great\nshock to one whose soul was bent upon gain; Gaspar had been overwhelmed\nby the unexpected misfortune, when the Tempter had suggested to him a\nmeans by which the loss might actually be converted into profit. Few\nknowing anything of the circumstances of Cora\u2019s investment, still fewer\nhaving any interest in the subject, it might be possible, by an exercise\nof craft, to make it appear that the lady\u2019s property had been in the\n_Orissa_, and that Gaspar\u2019s own had been embarked in the ship which had\nsafely arrived.\n\nGaspar had at first shrunk from the wicked suggestion. Though he was\nnot a very scrupulous man, there was yet a sufficient sense of honour\nleft within his breast to make him aware of the enormity of the crime to\nwhich he was tempted. But _the love of money is the root of all evil_,\nand with Gaspar it had become an absorbing passion; he was also proud\nof the possession of that miserable cunning which some deem cleverness,\nbut which is foolishness indeed in the sight of a holy God. Conscience\nand a feeling of honour,\u2014these were the barriers which, for a short\ntime, had resisted the pressure of strong temptation; for Gaspar _had_\na conscience, though by covetousness long-indulged its power had been\ngreatly weakened. But the barriers had given way, and Gaspar having once\ngrasped unlawful gain, and added to his stores the gold which rightfully\nbelonged to another, soon experienced the natural consequence of\nyielding to sin. His heart had become hardened, his nature debased, and\nhe had fallen more and more completely under the dominion of the vice\nof covetousness which he had once suffered to subdue him. A hard and\nmerciless task-master he had found it! While haunted with a perpetual\ndread of disgrace, and fear of losing his ill-gotten wealth, Gaspar\ncould not enjoy it. He was poor in the midst of riches, miserable in the\npossession of that for which he had sold his conscience. Notwithstanding\nevery precaution, Gaspar\u2019s secret had oozed out, and fears of\nexposure\u2014ruin\u2014shame\u2014rose up before him like phantoms.\n\n\u201cShe may be here this very day,\u201d were the first words from the miserable\nman which broke the oppressive silence. \u201cIsa, you must not quit the\nhouse\u2014you must remain beside me\u2014you know Miss Madden, and may influence\nher mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cI influence Cora!\u201d exclaimed Isa; \u201cI know her, indeed\u2014perhaps too\nwell\u2014but ours was never the intimacy of friendship!\u201d The young lady\nspoke with some emotion, for every recollection connected with Cora\nwas bitter. It is true that Isa no longer regarded her separation from\nLionel as a misfortune. Since she had come so near to the place of his\nformer sojourn, light had been thrown on his character which had revealed\nsomething of its selfishness and hollowness, and upon the young maiden\npurer hopes were dawning than even those of first love; but still, of\nall beings upon earth, Cora Madden was the one whom Isa regarded with\nmost fear and aversion. She looked upon Cora as an impersonification of\nmalice; as a dangerous woman; the bearer of the apple of discord; one who\ndelighted to turn into ridicule all whose standard of duty was higher\nthan her own. Isa had struggled to keep down the feelings of restraint\nwhich swelled in her heart, and, like Edith, never to speak of her enemy\nsave to her God; she had tried to banish Cora even from her memory; but\nnow it appeared that she might be brought into close contact with Miss\nMadden, and in a way most painful. Isa could not close her eyes to the\nfact that her brother stood in a humiliating position, and innocent\nas she herself was, she must yet share his humiliation. She must see\nscorn\u2014just scorn\u2014on that haughty lip whose sneer had already stung her\nlike a scorpion; she might have to ask indulgence from one to whom she\ncould with difficulty accord forgiveness. All Isa\u2019s natural pride rose\nup in arms against this. Why should she endure the shame when innocent\nof the guilt? Let Gaspar abide the consequences of his own conduct,\nwhatever that conduct might have been; she would leave him to make what\nexplanation, arrange what compromise he could; she would go to the\nCastle, where no word of reproach, no glance of scorn would ever reach\nher, where she would be welcomed by relatives whose behaviour had never\nbrought a blush to her cheek. This was Isa\u2019s thought for a moment, but it\nwas instantly put aside as selfish, ungenerous, unkind. Her brother, at\nthis time of all others, had need of her sympathy, counsel, and support.\nShe might help him to struggle not only against outward difficulties,\nbut the inward enemies\u2014the Midianites\u2014that had brought him into this\nstrait\u2014that had struck at his honour, and destroyed his peace. Might not\nthe disclosure which had covered him with shame be a means of loosening\nhis fetters? The social worship of the preceding evening, the prayers\nwhich she had heard uttered by one whom, of all men, she most honoured,\nhad braced the spirit of Isa. The whole history of Gideon was to her as a\ncommentary on the text, _Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of His\nmight_. She would, in her maiden meekness, stand at the post where God\nhad placed her, stand against the spiritual foes of her soul; she would\nnot sink under disappointment, yield to discontent, or harbour distrust\nof her Lord. She would ask for strength, and look for strength, and\nbelieve that strength would be given.\n\nIsa\u2019s first struggle was against the feeling of contempt inspired by the\nconduct of Gaspar. If it were wrong to desert her brother, was it not\nalso wrong to despise him; and yet how closely did her very pity seem to\nbe allied with scorn! Now that for the first time Gaspar turned to her\nfor sympathy, he must find it; not sympathy with his wretched grasping\nat gain, but with him in the pain and perplexity into which that grasping\nhad brought him. Mr. Gritton was in a miserable state of indecision,\nand Isa was the sole confidante of his troubles; as she already knew so\nmuch, he almost unconsciously let her know all. Now he clung to the hope\nthat what Cora suspected she would find it impossible to prove, that he\nmight safely abide even the issue of a lawsuit: then all his thoughts\nwere turned towards a compromise which might save his honour without\ntoo far trenching on his interests; much might be done in a personal\ninterview; an inexperienced woman might easily be induced to compound\nfor the restoration of part of her property, by yielding up her claim to\nthe residue. After long, restless pacing up and down the room, revolving\nvarious plans and expedients, Gaspar threw himself on a chair by his\nsister, and nervously opened to her his views, concluding by saying in an\nembarrassed tone, \u201cYou will explain\u2014you will soften\u2014you will induce Miss\nMadden to listen to reason.\u201d\n\n\u201cGaspar, dear Gaspar, suffer me to speak freely and openly to you,\u201d said\nIsa, whose mind had been as actively engaged as that of her brother as\nshe had sat silent by the casement, with her untouched work lying on her\nknee. \u201cWhen we have gone out of the straight way, surely, surely our\nfirst care should be to retrace our steps; if any wrong has been done,\nshould it not be set right without further delay?\u201d\n\n\u201cI want your help, and not your advice,\u201d muttered Gaspar.\n\n\u201cYet hear me,\u201d said Isa earnestly, for she felt that something more\nprecious than her brother\u2019s interests, more dear than even his\nreputation, was at stake. \u201cI know that you have been unhappy\u2014I have seen\nit; your better, your nobler nature, has been oppressed by a burden\nwhich\u2014which you may now throw off and for ever. Oh, deal frankly and\nfairly by Cora Madden! Give her what is her due, principal and interest,\neven to the utmost farthing: poverty is no evil, want itself is no evil,\ncompared with the gnawing consciousness of possessing that which cannot\nhave God\u2019s blessing upon it.\u201d\n\nGaspar pressed his thin bloodless lips together, as if suppressing a\ngroan. He felt his sister\u2019s fervent appeal\u2014it found an echo in his own\nconscience; but he was not yet prepared to throw down his idol, to burst\nfrom the yoke which galled. Mr. Gritton rose hastily, without replying,\nand resumed his restless walk. Isa could but guess the nature of the\nstruggle going on within, and silently pray that God might strengthen the\nfaith of the tempted one, and give victory to the right.\n\nIf not the most painful, that was certainly one of the most tedious\ndays that had ever been passed by Isa Gritton. Gaspar was irritable,\nnervous, wretched; vacillating as a pendulum, never in the same mind for\ntwenty minutes together. He appeared to be constantly on the watch;\nnever left the house, stood often gazing forth from the window, and\nnervously started at every unusual sound. There seemed to Isa to be a\nspell on the hands of her watch, they moved so slowly; she could not\npursue her accustomed occupations, for Gaspar was unwilling to have her\nout of his sight, and was perpetually interrupting her with snatches of\nconversation. But the long day closed at last\u2014closed in mist and rain;\na dull white fog blotted out the landscape, and ere the hour of sunset,\ntwilight closed in. Isa tried to beguile the evening by reading aloud,\nbut even the work on commercial statistics entirely failed to interest\nGaspar. His mind was abstracted, his ear painfully on the strain for\nother sounds than those of his sister\u2019s melodious voice. Glad was Isa\nwhen the hour at length arrived when she could retire, and prepare\nherself, by devotional reading, prayer, and then rest, for whatever the\nmorrow might bring.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nMERCY AND SELF-DENIAL.\n\n\nThe Sabbath morning rose clear and bright, Nature looking all the fairer\nfor the tears which she had shed on the previous night. As Isa Gritton\nwas completing her toilet, Hannah brought in a note. Isa instantly\nrecognized the handwriting; and as this missive had evidently not passed\nthrough the post, but been brought by a messenger, the young lady, with\nsome anxiety, broke open the envelope and read its contents:\u2014\n\n                                                 _Saturday Evening._\n\n    DEAR MISS GRITTON,\u2014I was on the way to Axe, but felt so ill\n    with feverish headache that I could not proceed beyond this\n    wretched little inn (the Black Bear), which, as I hear, is not\n    ten minutes\u2019 walk from your house. Could you come over and see\n    me?\u2014Yours,\n\n                                                        CORA MADDEN.\n\n\u201cWho brought this?\u201d inquired Isa of Hannah.\n\n\u201cMrs. Taylor, the landlady of the \u2018Black Bear.\u2019 She\u2019s a-waiting below,\nand she says that she wants to see you partic\u2019lar.\u201d\n\nIsa hastened down-stairs, and found in the hall the landlady of the\nroadside public-house, which had been dignified with the name of an inn\non the strength of the single guest-chamber which it held above the\ntap-room. Cora Madden must have felt ill indeed before she accepted such\nshelter. The landlady was a woman of a coarse and vulgar stamp, deeply\npitted with small-pox, and with a strong scent of spirits about her. Isa\nfelt repugnance at the idea of paying a visit at her house.\n\n\u201cThe lady writ that last night,\u201d said Mrs. Taylor, not waiting to be\nquestioned, but speaking loud and fast and without a pause; \u201cbut it\nwarn\u2019t convenient to send it over, for Tom hadn\u2019t come in, and Jim hadn\u2019t\njust his legs; and \u2019twas lucky I didn\u2019t, \u2019cause we did not know what it\nwas, and now it\u2019s all come out red as fire.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat has come out? what do you mean?\u201d asked Miss Gritton.\n\n\u201cThe small-pox, miss; quite full out\u2014not a place on her face where you\ncould lay a sixpenny bit. It\u2019s very unlucky it\u2019s in my house, but the\nchay put up in the stables last night, and the man\u2019s a-going to put the\nhorse to\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cStop!\u201d exclaimed Isa; \u201clet me understand you. Do you mean to tell me\nthat Miss Madden is lying ill of small-pox in your house?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut won\u2019t stop there long\u2014couldn\u2019t think of it. I\u2019ve six children, and I\nnigh died of small-pox myself these thirty years back, so I know what it\nbe; and it\u2019s a great shame, it is, to come a-sickening in the midst of a\nfamily, and get an inn the name of being infected. But she\u2019s a-going at\nonce back to Portal, or on to Axe, afore she\u2019s an hour older.\u201d\n\n\u201cA moment\u2014listen!\u201d cried Isa, interrupting with difficulty the loud\nincoherent rattle of the landlady; \u201care you going to send away a lady ill\nof the small-pox, without so much as knowing where she can find a place\nof shelter?\u201d\n\n\u201cI guess there be lodgings to be had somewhere; if not at one place at\nanother; they\u2019ll drive about till they find \u2019un; she can\u2019t stay with me:\nI\u2019ve a large family, and thirty years back come Michaelmas I\u2014\u201d\n\nIsa Gritton pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to collect her\nthoughts, distracted by the vociferous talking. A new difficulty had,\nmost unexpectedly, risen before her; a sudden emergency, and\u2014as something\nseemed to whisper within\u2014a call for the exercise of Christian mercy\ntowards one whom she had regarded as a foe.\n\nThe sound of Mrs. Taylor\u2019s loud voice drew Gaspar Gritton out of his\nroom. \u201cWho is here? is anything the matter?\u201d he cried.\n\n\u201cIt cant be expected that I should turn my house into an hospital, and\nfrighten away customers and\u2014\u201d Mrs. Taylor would have pursued her remarks\nhad she had any listener, but Isa, anxious and troubled in countenance,\nhad drawn her brother into the study.\n\n\u201cGaspar, Cora is at the \u2018Black Bear,\u2019 ill with small-pox. The landlady is\ngoing to send her away at once to find a shelter where she may. Oh, were\nthe complaint anything but small-pox, it would seem but common charity to\noffer her a refuge here!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd lay her under obligation; ay, ay, I see\u2014lay her under deepest\nobligation\u2014I see, I see; the best thing that could possibly be done!\u201d\ncried Gaspar.\n\nIsa was startled at her brother\u2019s eagerness; her words had been the\nintuitive expression of the feelings of a generous spirit, but she had\nnot seriously contemplated bringing a small-pox patient into her home.\nGaspar saw his sister\u2019s cheek turn pale, and became aware that the step\nproposed must be attended not only with great personal inconvenience, but\nserious hazard to his young and beautiful sister. Unlike her brother,\nIsa had never yet had the malady, and regarded it with considerable\ndread. It was not only the peril to life, and the minor risk of permanent\ndisfigurement, which made Isa shrink from exposing herself to infection,\nbut the quarantine to which she must be subjected while nursing a patient\nin small-pox would be, especially at this time, a very serious trial. It\nwould be like a sudden calling back of winter when the blossoms of spring\nwere opening to sweetest fragrance and brightest beauty. Even the dull\ncomfortless days at Wildwaste had been gemmed with some moments of such\nexquisite happiness as had almost served to brighten the whole; and now\nmust the door be closed against even Edith and Henry Eardley, because it\nhad been opened to receive Cora Madden? Gaspar read strong repugnance to\nthe sacrifice in the expressive countenance of his sister.\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d he said; \u201cyou might take the infection. Miss Madden must try\nher chance somewhere else.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me consider for a few moments, Gaspar. Detain the woman, I must ask\ncounsel ere I decide;\u201d and Isa hurriedly sought her own room, to sink\non her knees and implore guidance and light on the tangled path opening\nbefore her.\n\nThere were a few words which Isa had heard from the lips of the vicar of\nAxe, which she had laid up in her heart for a time of perplexity like\nthis:\u2014\u201cWhen you are in doubt as to what course to pursue, when reason\nappears to be lost in a mist, and you cannot clearly discern the narrow\npath of duty, ask conscience two simple questions,\u2014\u2018Were my Lord in\nvisible presence here, what would He bid me do? what may I venture to\nbelieve that He would have done in my place?\u2019 Such questions, honestly\nput, and in a spirit of prayer, will draw forth such a reply as will\nclear off the mist, and be as the voice saying, _This is the way, walk ye\nin it, when ye turn to the right hand or to the left._\u201d\n\nIsa obeyed the direction now; bending her head over her clasped hands,\nwith the prayer, \u201cOh, guide me, Lord, by Thy counsel!\u201d she asked\nconscience the two simple questions. Familiar words of Scripture recurred\nto her mind,\u2014_Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye\nalso so unto them_. What would she desire if, like Cora, she were\nill, desolate, and alone, driven from the shelter even of a miserable\nwayside inn, and sent to seek from house to house a place in which to\nlay\u2014perchance a dying head? And what would have been the conduct of the\nMerciful One towards such a sufferer, however erring, however guilty?\nWould He have paused to consider whether she were a foe or a friend?\n_Christ pleased not Himself_, and He _hath left an example that we should\nfollow His steps_.\n\nIsa rose from her knees, and calling the servant, whom she heard\nspreading the breakfast in the adjoining apartment, she at once gave\norders for preparing for the reception of a lady ill of small-pox. Isa\nwould give up her own sleeping-room to Cora, and have Lottie\u2019s little\npallet-bed placed in the boudoir for herself. Leaving Hannah wondering\nand grumbling, Isa returned to her brother and informed him of her\ndecision. Gaspar, glad that it was such as might further his own selfish\ninterests, sent off Mrs. Taylor to make arrangements for Cora\u2019s removal\nto Wildwaste Lodge.\n\nIsa had won another silent victory over the Midianites within, over\nSelfishness, Vanity, and Fear. One sacrifice had given her strength for\nanother. Under the influence of that faith which worketh by love, Isa\nmade every preparation for the comfort of Cora that she could have made\nfor that of a cherished sister, giving her own efforts to make up for the\nshortness of time and the incapacity or unwillingness of her servant.\nNot more than half an hour elapsed before a chaise drove up to the door,\nwhere Isa Gritton stood ready to welcome Cora Madden. The driver feared\nto help out the invalid, who\u2014swathed in blankets, a miserable, disfigured\nobject\u2014would have been forced to descend without aid, and drag her\ntottering limbs into the house, had not Isa\u2019s hands been stretched out\nto support\u2014had not Isa\u2019s slight arm been thrown gently around her. Cora\ncrossed the threshold, and feebly walked up the staircase, resting upon\nthe woman whose peace she for a time had blighted, whose prospects she\nhad done her utmost to destroy! Self-denying kindness may be shown to a\nfriend from natural affection\u2014to a stranger from intuitive pity; but when\nshown to a bitter enemy, it is one of the strongest proofs that the love\nof Christ which constraineth hath been shed abroad in the heart.\n\n\u201cYou are indeed a good Samaritan; God will bless you for it!\u201d murmured\nCora, as she sank upon her comfortable bed, while Isa gently beat up the\npillow to support the aching head of her guest. Never had a blessing from\nany other lips gone so warm to the heart of Isa; it was a blessing wrung,\nas it were, from an enemy; it was as the encouraging word heard by Gideon\non the night when he stood in the camp of the foe.\n\n[Illustration: THE ARRIVAL OF MISS MADDEN]\n\nGaspar had sent from the hamlet a messenger for a doctor. He came\nbefore noon, and pronounced that Miss Madden had not been injured by her\nremoval, and that with care she was likely to do well. He prescribed\nabsolute quietness, and forbade her speaking much on any subject,\nespecially such as might excite her. But it was easier for the doctor\nto give the order than it was for Isa to enforce it. Her patient little\nmerited the name. Cora was eager to speak on business; and Isa could\nscarcely soothe her into silence by entreating that she would wait a few\ndays, and that then she might have an interview with Mr. Gritton himself.\n\nGaspar had made the unusual effort of walking over to the steward\u2019s\ncottage, to speak to Mr. Holdich about a nurse to assist his sister.\nRebekah at once volunteered to go herself, if her husband\u2019s consent were\nobtained, and to Isa\u2019s great relief appeared at the Lodge just as the\ndoctor quitted it. Not only were her experience and willing help a great\ncomfort to the young lady, but the presence of a gentle, pious woman,\nsympathizing and kind, was a real pleasure to Isa. Much cheerful converse\nthey had together in the boudoir, with the door open between it and the\nroom in which Cora lay sleeping. Rebekah had many a pleasant anecdote to\nrelate to an attentive hearer, of Edith and of one dearer than Edith.\nNever had Isa listened to tale of romance with half the interest with\nwhich she did now to the account of the difficulties which had to be\novercome, and the efforts to be made by the vicar of Axe, to introduce\na knowledge of vital religion into that remote and benighted part of his\nparish which surrounded Castle Lestrange.\n\nThe tidings of Cora\u2019s illness and its nature was not long in reaching the\nlittle country town of Axe. Mrs. Green stood at the door of her shop on\nthe Monday morning, exchanging gossip with her neighbour the baker.\n\n\u201cIf ever there was a parson like ours!\u201d she observed. \u201cAlways at work,\nSundays and week-days; and as anxious about his folk as if they were all\nhis children. He was here again, not an hour ago, to look after that\nlittle thief upstairs; but I chanced to say to him, \u2018I s\u2019pose you\u2019ve\nheard, sir, as Miss Madden\u2019s lying sick of small-pox at Wildwaste Lodge?\u2019\nand he looked as if he\u2019d heard sudden of the death of his father, and\nrepeated, \u2018Small-pox\u2014Wildwaste Lodge!\u2019 as if the words was a knell.\u201d\n\n\u201cI dare say Mr. Eardley\u2019s sorry for the poor lady; she was his\nparishioner some years ago when the Maddens lived at the Castle.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe must have taken an uncommon interest in her,\u201d said Mrs. Green with\na smile, \u201cfor he forgot all about what he\u2019d come for, and was off for\nthe Lodge like a shot. He\u2019s not one to be afeard of infection; he sat up\nall night with poor Bramley, when he was a-dying of the fever. Maybe he\nthinks that if Miss Madden\u2019s in a bad way, she might like to have a word\nwith a parson.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe was one of the worldly and gay,\u201d observed the baker, shaking his\nhead. \u201cI don\u2019t believe that she and Mr. Eardley had ever much to say to\none another; but she\u2019s the sister of his friend Mr. Arthur, and the vicar\nmay care for her for his sake.\u201d\n\nHad the duty of spiritual visitation been all that had led Henry Eardley\nto bend his rapid steps towards Wildwaste, he must have returned to Axe\ndisappointed. Cora had passed a favourable night, and suffered little but\nfrom the extreme irritation caused by her malady. When Isa softly glided\nto her side, and whispered that the clergyman had called to inquire for\nher, and to know whether she had any wish to see him, Cora replied with a\ncharacteristic sneer, \u201cI\u2019m not dying; and if I were, I would send for the\nundertaker as soon as the parson.\u201d\n\nAnd yet it was with no feeling of disappointment that Henry Eardley went\non his homeward way. He turned from the dull, unsightly brick building\non the common, as one loath to leave the earthly paradise in which has\nbeen passed a golden hour of life. His interview with Isa had indeed been\nbut brief, but it was one which left memories behind which would remain\nfragrant in his soul to the close of his mortal existence.\n\n\u201cPriceless jewel enclosed in yon dull casket!\u201d said Henry Eardley to\nhimself, turning to give a parting glance at Isa\u2019s home. \u201cMay Heaven\nwatch over that precious one\u2019s life, and shield her from the danger to\nwhich her noble, unselfish devotion has exposed her.\u201d\n\nThat prayer welled up from the depths of the vicar\u2019s soul. It was for one\nof whom he for the first time dared to let himself think as possibly the\nfuture partner of all his joys and his sorrows, his guardian angel, his\ntreasure. Henry Eardley had been fascinated by Isa when meeting her at\nthe Castle; but a painful misgiving had rested on his mind as to whether\nshe, the bright ornament of society, flattered and admired, were suited\nfor, or could ever endure the life of lowly active usefulness which\nthat of a vicar\u2019s wife should be. From the time when he had first given\nhimself to the ministry, Mr. Eardley had made a firm resolve, that should\nhe ever ask a woman in marriage, she should be one who would be his\nhelper, and not his hinderer, in doing his Master\u2019s work. A pastor and\nhis wife should be as the two hands of a watch\u2014the one moving in a larger\ncircle and with more visible activity than the other, but both fixed on\nthe same centre, both moved by the same spring, united in the same work,\nand pointing to the same truth. With this conviction on his mind, Henry\nEardley had almost resolved to shun the society of the baronet\u2019s niece\nas a dangerous pleasure; such a bird of paradise, he thought, would\nnever brook the lowly perch, the secluded nest. But when he saw Isa pale\nfrom watching by the sick-bed of a comparative stranger, for whom the\nbeauteous had risked the loss of beauty, and the youthful that of life,\nall such misgivings passed for ever away. Henry Eardley felt that if he\ndare but aspire to the hand of Isa Gritton, even were the malady which\nshe had braved to rob her of all her loveliness, he would be of all men\non earth the most blessed. That which the maiden had feared would divide\nher from him whose regard she most valued, was but as a golden link to\nbind them together for ever.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nREFRESHMENT.\n\n\n\u201cBetter go back, Lottie; ye were dead tired last time,\u201d said Steady to\nhis sister on the evening of the next lecture, as she sat down by the\nroad-side to rest, on her way to the steward\u2019s cottage.\n\n\u201cI was not half so tired as my heart felt afore I went to the meeting,\u201d\nreplied Lottie. \u201cThought I, if I don\u2019t get some help with this burden of\ntrouble, I\u2019ll just lie down and die. All the people looking so strangely\nat me, and speaking so cruelly of me\u2014no news from mother\u2014no news of poor\nfather\u2014and now my dear young mistress nursing a lady in the small-pox,\nand I away! Oh, if she catches it!\u201d Lottie started up as if the idea had\ninspired her with fresh energy, \u201cI will go and nurse her; nothing shall\nstay me; she shall see that I ain\u2019t ungrateful.\u201d\n\n\u201cMaybe she won\u2019t catch it,\u201d observed Steady.\n\n\u201cI pray God with all my heart and soul that she may not!\u201d cried Lottie.\n\u201cI should like,\u201d she continued, more quietly, as she plodded along the\ndusty highroad with her brother\u2014\u201cI should like to have nursed Miss\nMadden, not \u2019cause I care for her, but for the sake of her brother, Mr.\nArthur.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe was the best friend as ever we had,\u201d observed Steady.\n\n\u201cHe taught us about heaven\u2014he helped us in trouble\u2014he worked so hard to\nput out the fire when the flames were a\u2019most catching our cottage. And to\nthink of his lying dying far, far away in Jerusalem!\u201d The black eyes of\nLottie Stone were brimming over with tears.\n\n\u201cMind\u2014you\u2019ll be run over!\u201d exclaimed Steady, suddenly pulling his sister\nto one side, out of the way of an open carriage which was coming up\nrapidly behind them. The Stones had been walking in the centre of the\nroad.\n\nFull as she was of her own mournful thoughts, Lottie did not even look at\nthe carriage as it whirled past; but she was startled by a voice from it\nsuddenly exclaiming, \u201cStop, coachman, stop! Yes; that is Lottie Stone,\nwith her brother!\u201d\n\nLottie uttered a low cry of delight as she glanced up and recognized the\nface\u2014emaciated, indeed, and very pale\u2014of the benefactor of her family, as\nhe bent smiling from the carriage to greet those whom he had not seen for\nyears. Arthur Madden and his sister Lina had a few hours before arrived\nat Axe, having hastened thither immediately upon reaching England, from\nhearing tidings of the illness of Cora. They had been relieved from\nanxiety on her account by Mr. Eardley, from whom they learned that\nthe invalid was in a fair way to recover. Medical men had strictly\nforbidden Arthur to expose himself in his weakened state to any hazard of\ninfection; and Lina, his devoted nurse, was thankful not to be obliged to\nleave him, as the clergyman informed her how tenderly Cora was watched\nover by Isa Gritton.\n\n[Illustration: THE RECOGNITION.]\n\nArthur and Lina had taken up their quarters at a quiet hotel at Axe. A\nmessage from the former to the vicar had brought Mr. Eardley instantly to\nsee them. With hearty joy and fervent thanksgiving, Henry wrung the thin\nhand of his friend.\n\n\u201cThe accounts of you had been so alarming that I had hardly ventured to\nhope to see your face again in this world!\u201d cried the vicar.\n\n\u201cThe voyage did me much good; and the sight of dear familiar faces will\ndo me much more,\u201d said Arthur. \u201cI long to be again amongst my old pupils\nat Wildwaste, and to meet with honest Holdich once more. Do you still\nhold your little week-day services in that honey-suckle-mantled cottage,\nwhich is connected in my mind with some of its pleasant recollections?\u201d\n\n\u201cI hold one there this evening,\u201d replied Mr. Eardley.\n\n\u201cThen we will go to it,\u201d cried Arthur Madden; \u201cit will so remind us of\n_auld lang syne_. Nay, no remonstrance, Lina,\u201d he added gaily, as he read\nan objection in the face of his anxious young nurse; \u201cit will _not_ tire\nme, it will _not_ give me a chill; it will make me feel ten years younger\nto find myself amongst my poor friends again: and I should like our first\nmeeting to be in that place, where we used to worship together. I will\nring and order an open carriage to be here early enough to give us half\nan hour for greetings before the service begins; at least, if it be not\ninconvenient for you to start so soon,\u201d said Arthur, addressing himself\nto the vicar, \u201cfor you must come with us in the carriage, and tell us\non the way the thousand things which I wish to hear of Wildwaste and its\npeople.\u201d\n\nThere is nothing so healthful as happiness. The keen enjoyment which\nArthur felt in returning to the place where he had first laboured for\nGod, where he had first realized what a blessed thing it is to win souls\nfor Christ, was as a powerful tonic to his enfeebled constitution. Never\nhad his eye looked brighter, or his voice sounded more cheerful, than\nduring that drive from Axe, as he recognized familiar landmarks, and\nquestioned his friend, Mr. Eardley, as to the fortunes of those whom he\nhad known before quitting England.\n\n\u201cI remember that Wildwaste is not in your parish. Has it the same aged\nminister still?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; but I hear that Mr. Bull is about to resign his cure. He is now\nunable to perform even the shortest service.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope and trust that an earnest, hard-working man may be put in his\nplace,\u201d said Arthur.\n\n\u201cGod grant it!\u201d was the vicar\u2019s response.\n\n\u201cAnd old Tychicus Bolder, the teetotaller,\u201d inquired young Madden after\na pause; \u201cdoes he still declaim as fiercely as ever against the evils of\nWildwaste?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe rod of affliction has been heavy on poor Bolder. He suffered so\ngreatly from rheumatism last winter that it was feared that he might\naltogether lose the use of his limbs; but he has rallied wonderfully\nduring the last few days, and he expressed a hope, when I last saw him,\nthat he would be able to get to church again in the summer.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe seemed to me,\u201d observed Lina Madden, \u201cone of the most proud,\nuncharitable, and self-righteous men that I ever had met with; but I\nsuppose that we shall see him much changed.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is much changed indeed,\u201d replied Mr. Eardley; \u201cfor to poor Bolder\nsuffering has not been sent in vain. He used to look around him for\nsubjects of censure, now he has learned to look within; and what he did\nbefore to be honoured of men, he does now for the sake of his God. Human\nnature regards sickness and pain as enemies; but it is through such\nenemies that a message of love and mercy has come to Bolder.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd little Lottie Stone, my first acquaintance in Wildwaste, how fares\nshe?\u201d asked Arthur Madden. \u201cMethinks I see her now, in my mind\u2019s eye,\nthe gipsy-like child, with her earnest black eyes, wrapped up in the old\nscarlet cloak, and\u2014why, surely, there is Lottie herself!\u201d he exclaimed,\nand calling to the coachman to stop, Arthur Madden, as we have already\nseen, greeted the young Stones with pleasure, which was more than\nreciprocated by them.\n\nWith the young hope is buoyant, and the sense of happiness keen. The\nsight of her benefactor living, convalescent, looking bright and kind as\never, seemed to Lottie\u2019s warm young heart an earnest that, like her late\nanxiety upon his account, all her other troubles would soon pass away.\nHer mother would come back\u2014her father would live to be a blessing and\ncomfort in his home\u2014her own character would be fully cleared\u2014Miss Gritton\nand her dear pastor would smile upon her again\u2014and Heaven would guard her\nsweet lady from taking the infection of the fever. Mr. Eardley looked on\nthat beaming young face, and his reflection was much the same as that of\nIsa had been, \u201cThere is no sense of guilt weighing on the conscience of\nthat child; truth and innocence are written upon every feature.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you, too, are going to the lecture, Lottie, we\u2019ll spare you the long\nwalk,\u201d said the smiling Lina.\n\n\u201cYes; up with you, Lottie, beside the coachman,\u201d cried Arthur. \u201cSteady\nwill follow; I\u2019ll be bound he\u2019ll be in time. I never knew him late at my\nclass; he was one on whom I could always depend.\u201d\n\nThe few words of kindly praise called up a grin of pleasure on the\nsun-burned face of the dull-witted but true-hearted lad, who went\nplodding on his lonely way almost as happy as his sister.\n\nThe rapid motion of the vehicle on which she was mounted was very\nexhilarating to Lottie. She felt herself metaphorically, as well as\nliterally, lifted on high from the dust, relieved from oppressive\nweariness, given rest and enjoyment while at the same time borne swiftly\nonwards. When the carriage stopped at the honey-suckle covered porch,\nLottie sprang down from her lofty seat light as a squirrel. She had\nno fear now of encountering cold looks, suspicious glances, as groups\nfrom the neighbourhood dropped into the meeting. Every eye was fixed\nupon Arthur Madden; no one seemed to have a thought but for him and his\nsister, so lately arrived from the Holy Land. Lottie missed, indeed,\namongst the throng her young mistress and Rebekah Holdich, who were both\nabsent from fear of conveying infection; but her prayers for them both\nrose now with a feeling of joyous confidence, to which the poor girl had\nbeen a stranger since making that promise of silence to Gaspar, which had\nbeen the source of such pain and distress.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nLECTURE VI.\u2014FAITH VICTORIOUS.\n\n\nWe are to contemplate this evening, my friends, in one of the most\nmarvellous triumphs ever granted to faith, a most striking emblem of the\nvictory of the gospel over the opposition of earth and hell. We will\nfirst consider the historical narrative before us: then see how in it\nis prefigured the success attending the preaching of the apostles and\ndisciples of our Lord; and, finally, draw encouragement for ourselves in\nour conflict against the Midianites in our own souls.\n\nGideon, after returning to his camp, made immediate preparations for a\nnight attack upon the foe. But these preparations were of a nature to\ncause surprise amongst his three hundred devoted men. They were not to\nstring the bow or to grasp the keen sword; they were to go forth into\nthe midst of the armed multitudes of Midian as sheep amongst wolves,\nwithout\u2014as it seems\u2014either weapons of offence or armour for protection!\nGideon divided his little band into three companies, and he put a trumpet\ninto every man\u2019s hand, with an empty pitcher, and a lamp was placed\nwithin each pitcher. And the leader said to his followers: \u201cLook on me,\nand do likewise: and, behold, when I come to the outside of the camp, it\nshall be that, as I do, so shall ye do. When I blow with a trumpet, I and\nall that are with me, then blow ye the trumpets also on every side of all\nthe camp, and say, _The sword of the Lord and of Gideon_!\u201d\n\nSo Gideon, and the three hundred men that were with him, came unto the\noutside of the camp in the beginning of the middle night watch, and they\nblew the trumpets, and brake the pitchers that were in their hands.\n\nLoud and terrible was the sound that thus startled the hosts of Midian\nfrom their slumbers on that eventful night\u2014the blare of the trumpets,\nthe crash of the vessels, while suddenly the glare of a hundred waving\ntorches lit up the darkness! From this side and that side the sound\nis echoed, the flash is reflected, while loud bursts the shout that\nstrikes terror into the Midianites\u2019 souls,\u2014\u201c_The sword of the Lord and\nof Gideon!_\u201d Smitten with panic, confused by the noise, dazzled by the\nglare, the multitudes of Midian are but embarrassed by their own numbers,\nthey cannot distinguish friend from foe,\u2014they snatch up their weapons,\nindeed, and use them with frantic vigour, but every man\u2019s hand is turned\nagainst his own fellow\u2014warriors strike right and left, but their fierce\nblows fall on their own companions in arms! One wild instinct to save\nlife by flight possesses all that vast host; men rush hither and thither\nwith frantic speed, careless of trampling over the corpses of countrymen,\ncomrades, brothers!\n\nThe chosen three hundred, the \u201cforlorn hope\u201d of Israel, had thus, through\nthe power of Israel\u2019s God, discomfited and put to flight the armies of\nthe aliens; but their brethren were to join in the pursuit. Warriors\ngathered out of Naphtali, Asher, and Manasseh, and pressed hard on the\nflying foe. Gideon despatched messengers throughout all Ephraim, calling\non the men of that neighbouring tribe to seize on the fords of Jordan,\nto intercept the flight of the Midianites over the river. His directions\nwere obeyed; the warlike Ephraimites joined in the effort to free their\ncountry from the foe; they pursued Midian, and brought the heads of two\nof its princes, Oreb and Zeeb, to Gideon on the other side of the Jordan.\n\nIn the marvellous success granted to the efforts of a handful of men\nwho, strong in faith, though armed only with trumpets to sound, and\ntorches to display, we see most clearly foreshadowed the triumph of the\ngospel in the days of the apostles and their immediate followers. The\nwhole world lay in wickedness, shrouded in deep moral darkness, like the\nhosts of Midian in night, when the Saviour came down unto His own, to\nbe despised and rejected of men. Satan appeared to hold the human race\nunder a yoke which no effort could break. Rome, that towered supreme\namongst the nations, that held in subjection even the chosen land of\nIsrael, was wholly given to idolatry. Incense offered to false gods\nrose from unnumbered shrines, benighted myriads worshipped vain idols\nin blind superstition. And what was the force chosen by God to oppose,\nto discomfit the powers of earth and of hell, to overthrow heathen\naltars, to raise the banner of the Cross against Satan and his hosts,\nagainst the kings and princes of this world? A little band of apostles\nand disciples\u2014a few fishermen and their companions\u2014mostly poor, mostly\nunlearned, were to engage in this the most mighty struggle which the\nworld had ever known! Not as the followers of Mohammed, with the sword to\nsweep their enemies from the earth; the early Christians had, as it were,\nlike Gideon\u2019s men, their _torches_ and their _trumpets_. The trumpet,\nsymbol of preaching,\u2014the loud clear declaration of the glorious truth\nthat salvation is offered freely to men through the blood of an incarnate\nGod. _If the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself\nto the battle?_ saith the Apostle Paul, who himself gave a blast, the\necho of which still resoundeth throughout the world! And the torches\nwhich these early Christians displayed were the examples of their pure\nand devoted lives\u2014shining through, dispelling the darkness around them,\naccording to the word of their Lord, _Let your light so shine before men,\nthat they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in\nheaven._\n\nBut the treasure was borne in earthly vessels, and those vessels were\nbroken and shattered, that the light might more clearly be seen. \u201cThe\nblood of martyrs was the seed of the Church.\u201d All the apostles, with the\nsingle exception of St. John, who was persecuted and banished, died a\nviolent death for the sake of the gospel. But their lights did not perish\nwith them: no; they were lifted on high to shine in glory, enlightening\ngeneration after generation, with a brilliance which shall never pass\naway. Thus was it that our religion triumphed over the enemy by the flash\nof the torch and the blast of the trumpet. The victory of Gideon was as a\nrehearsal of the infinitely more glorious triumph of the gospel of Christ.\n\nAnd now, dear brethren, to apply to our consciences the lesson before us,\nlet us examine into the work of faith and the power of faith in our own\nsouls. What do we know of conflict, what do we know of victory over the\nMidianites in our hearts, even our own besetting sins? Have we left those\nsins quietly in possession to degrade and enslave our souls, or have we\nsought to fight the good fight? If we have attempted to throw off the\nenemy\u2019s yoke, how have we prepared ourselves for the battle? Our own\ngood resolutions, our trust in our own strength, our pride of conscious\nvirtue, these may have been as the forces that gathered at first around\nGideon, but not to those are the victory given. The triumph must be that,\nnot of human strength, but of God-bestowed _faith_. It was when St. Paul,\nstruggling with inward corruption, exclaimed, _O wretched man that I am,\nwho shall deliver me from the body of this death?_ that he was enabled to\nadd, _Thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus\nChrist_!\n\nAgain, the weapons with which we assault the enemy in his camp may find\ntheir emblems in the torches and trumpets carried by Gideon\u2019s band.\nThere is the loud alarm of conscience, sounding clear and distinct in\nthe soul, giving no uncertain sound. There are the precepts and promises\nof Scripture, scattering the darkness around\u2014_Thy Word is a lamp unto my\nfeet, and a light unto my path_; while often painful dispensations, the\nshattering of human joys, the crash of the earthen vessels, make that\nWord to shine to us with a brilliance unknown in the days of our joy.\nBut instead of the shout of Gideon, the Christian\u2019s voice is raised in\nprayer. It is the cry to the Lord for help that puts the Destroyer to\nflight. Thus may we discomfit our spiritual foes, _more than conquerors_\nthrough Him that loved us,\u2014\n\n    \u201cHis grace our strength, our guide His word;\n    Our aim, the glory of the Lord!\u201d\n\nHow was it with the patriarch Abraham when his faith had to endure one\nof the severest conflicts recorded in Scripture,\u2014when he was commanded\nto offer up the son whom he loved? Dark was the night around him, his\nnatural affections were enlisted on the enemy\u2019s side; but conscience\nsounded the call to obedience, while faith firmly grasped the promise,\n_In Isaac shall thy seed be called_: so dashing down, as the earthen\nvessels were dashed, any doubts or misgivings that would have obscured\nthe light of that promise, Abraham triumphed because he believed, and\nreceived the reward of his faith.\n\nIn such an instance as this, to return to the simile of the tree, we see\nthe ripe fruits of faith. The sun of God\u2019s grace has shone so brightly,\nthe dew of His Spirit has rested so fully upon it, that we behold it at\nlength in all its sweetness, richness, and beauty. Christian brethren, be\ncontent with nothing short of this. We see too many with whom it appears\nas if their graces never would ripen. There is a crudeness, a hardness\nabout their religion, which, if it do not make us doubt its nature, at\nleast takes from it all its charm. Faith cannot be fully developed where\nthe softness of humility, the sweetness of charity, are unknown. It is of\nthe man who not only yields obedience to the commandments, but delights\nin the law of the Lord, that it is written, _He shall be like a tree\nplanted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his\nseason; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth it shall\nprosper_.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nBONDAGE.\n\n\n\u201cLook at them out of the window! no, indeed! If they are so anxious to\nsee their sister after a four years\u2019 separation, let them come to her in\nher chamber of sickness,\u201d was Cora\u2019s reply to an affectionate message\nfrom the newly-arrived travellers conveyed to her through Isa. \u201cSince\nstrangers are not afraid of infection,\u201d she continued with a sneer, \u201cit\nshows that the danger may be braved even by those who have not, like\nArthur Madden, a reputation for heroic self-devotion.\u201d\n\n\u201cStill the bitterness\u2014still the satire: can trial and sickness teach\nher nothing?\u201d thought Isa, as she left the room to send, in softened\nform, the ungracious message of Cora to her brother and sister, who were\nwaiting in front of the house which they were forbidden to enter. Isa\nhad already explained to Cora how great would be to Arthur the useless\nrisk of a meeting, she had therefore felt it unnecessary to reply to a\nsarcasm which was at once so ungenerous and unjust.\n\nCora, against the remonstrances of her gentle nurses, had insisted on\nrising and dressing. She was impatient of all restraint, and opposition\nonly made her irritable. The first moment that she found herself alone,\nshe walked up to the toilette-table and looked into the glass. For\nseveral minutes Cora remained motionless, mutely staring into the too\nfaithful mirror, as if the frightful image which it contained had the\ntransfixing power of the Gorgon; then she slowly turned from it, with her\nsoul overflowing with bitterness. Miss Madden had possessed a certain\nshare of good looks, which her vanity had magnified into beauty; now\nall had passed for ever away. Time, indeed, would remove much of the\ndisfigurement which made a once handsome countenance hideous, but Cora\nknew too well that in her case time would never entirely efface the marks\nleft by the small-pox. Perhaps no woman in Cora\u2019s position would have\nbeen insensible to a trial such as this, but to one who had sought all\nher happiness from the world, to whom its smile had been sunshine, the\ntrial was well-nigh intolerable. The loss of her personal attractions\nwas to Cora a greater affliction than that of her property had been.\nTherefore was it that the heart of Cora was as a well of bitterness, full\nto the brim and overflowing in rebellion against God, and malice against\nher happier fellow-creatures.\n\nAnd was there no gratitude towards the generous girl who had not only\ndrawn, as it were, a sponge over the record of injuries past, but at the\ncost of a painful sacrifice had acted the part of a sister towards her?\nDid no feeling of tenderness arise in the bosom of Cora when she looked\non the bright lovely face which might so soon, for her sake, be marred\nlike her own? It might have been so, even with Cora Madden, had she not\nchosen to regard the conduct of Isa, as well as that of Gaspar, as the\nresult of interested calculation. \u201cThey knew well enough,\u201d she muttered\nto herself, \u201cthat once under their roof they had me at an advantage.\nIsa lavishes attentions on me as men pour water on gunpowder, when they\nfear to be shattered by its explosion. It was folly in me to consent to\nreceive such hypocritical kindness; I wish that I had driven at once to\nAxe. But I have the wit to penetrate their designs, and the spirit to\ndefeat them.\u201d\n\nWith this impression on her mind, Cora, on Isa\u2019s re-entering her\napartment, at once addressed her in a tone of formal politeness,\u2014\n\n\u201cI shall also have to trouble you, Miss Gritton, with a message to\nyour brother. As soon as I have sufficient strength to go downstairs,\nI shall request an interview with Mr. Gritton, that we may come to an\nunderstanding on the unpleasant subject which I mentioned to him in my\nnote. Doubtless,\u201d continued Cora with a sarcastic smile, \u201che will be\nglad of an opportunity of showing me with what a tender regard for my\ninterests he, as my agent, always has acted.\u201d\n\nIsa could make no reply; she did not trust herself even to look at\nthe countenance of Cora, but at once quitted the room to convey the\nmessage to her brother. Scarcely had the door closed behind her when the\nattention of Cora was attracted by the sound of loud cheers rising from\nthe direction of the little school which had been built by Arthur in\nWildwaste, the manly voices of workmen blending with the shriller huzzas\nof the young.\n\n\u201cWhat can the idle villagers be shouting for?\u201d said Cora to herself as\nshe approached the window, and, concealing herself behind the muslin\ncurtain, looked down on the scene below. She saw the whole population of\nWildwaste\u2014men, women, and children\u2014gathered around an open carriage to\nwelcome back the benefactor of all. Even old Bolder, forgetful of his\ninfirmities, had dragged himself into the sunshine, to greet with hearty\njoy the friend of the poor. Cora caught a glimpse of the face of her\nbrother, beaming with pure happiness, as he bent forward to recognize\nfamiliar faces in the crowd. Cora turned away with an expression of scorn\non her lip, but a pang of envy at her heart. To whom would her presence\nbring joy? from whom could she look for welcome, either in this world\nor in the next? She had dwelt, like her brother, near Wildwaste; she\nhad enjoyed the same opportunities as Arthur of instructing the ignorant\nand feeding the hungry. He had helped the poor\u2014she had despised them; he\nhad found his happiness in doing his Master\u2019s will\u2014she had sought hers\nin following her own. _Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness\nfor the upright in heart_; but on all that Cora had most prized was the\nmournful sentence inscribed, _Vanity of vanities, all is vanity_. Malice,\nworldliness, and pride now tormented the soul of Cora; these spiritual\nfoes had come to her first as the Midianites to Israel in the time of\nMoses, not to alarm but to seduce. She had welcomed and harboured the\ntempters till they remained as masters and tyrants within: she now felt\ntheir yoke to be galling indeed.\n\nThe spirit of Gaspar Gritton was also acutely sensible at this time of\nthe degradation of its bondage. The idea of the approaching interview\nwith Miss Madden oppressed him with a humiliating feeling of fear. Nor\nwas Gaspar free from care on the account of his sister. Isa\u2019s gentleness\nand unselfishness had had their natural effect in thawing that cold\nungenial heart, and an undefined terror arose in it that he might, by\npursuing his own interests, have sacrificed the life of the only being on\nearth whom he loved.\n\n\u201cIsa, you do not feel ill?\u201d said Gaspar that evening to his sister, whom\nhe had been for some time watching in anxious silence. Isa was sitting\nin the study, apparently engaged in reading, but it was long since she\nhad turned the page; her head was leaning on her hand, a vivid colour was\non her cheek, but her appearance denoted languor and weariness, and, when\nGaspar spoke, her large soft eyes had heavily closed, as if for slumber.\n\n\u201cNo, not exactly ill,\u201d replied Isa, with a languid smile; \u201cI have but a\nlittle headache, and feel as if I wanted rest.\u201d\n\n\u201cGod grant that you have not taken the infection!\u201d\n\n\u201cI was just thinking that if I should take it\u2014and it is very possible\nthat I may do so\u2014it would be well for me to speak a few words to you\nbefore we are separated by illness or\u2014or that in which illness might\nend.\u201d Isa had been silently praying for courage to make one effort\nmore\u2014it might be the last\u2014to persuade her unhappy brother to act a just\nand honourable part. \u201cI have told you our father\u2019s last commands, oh,\nlet me join to them a sister\u2019s entreaties. Gaspar, act towards Cora\nMadden as you will wish that you had acted when you both stand before the\njudgment-seat of God.\u201d Isa spoke with emotion, and the feverish flush on\nher cheek grew brighter than before.\n\n\u201cWhat would you have me do?\u201d asked Gaspar, in a low, agitated voice.\n\n\u201cWhat conscience bids, what God\u2019s Word directs,\u201d replied Isa,\u2014\u201cmake\nrestitution.\u201d\n\nGaspar rose and strode once or twice up and down the apartment with his\nhands behind him; his brow furrowed with an anxious frown. Presently\nhe stopped short before his sister, whose soul was rising in silent\nsupplication for her tempted brother.\n\n\u201cIsa, you ask too much. To refund that money would be to acknowledge that\nit never ought to have been mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how will you then dare to meet face to face with one whom, I fear,\nyou have wronged?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll not meet Cora Madden\u2014I\u2019ll leave this place\u2014I\u2019ll go abroad!\u201d said\nGaspar hurriedly, giving voice to a thought which had often recurred to\nhis mind.\n\n\u201cAnd leave me?\u201d cried Isa reproachfully.\n\n\u201cYou will be with relations who care for you; you will be in the Castle,\nor\u2014;\u201d Gaspar stopped short, for a terrible thought flashed across him as\nhe looked at the drooping form of his sister, that she might find a yet\nsafer resting-place from sorrow and disgrace in the grave.\n\n[Illustration: ISA\u2019S LAST APPEAL TO HER BROTHER.]\n\nStartled by the idea, as by a spectre, Gaspar insisted on Isa\u2019s at once\nretiring to seek the rest which she needed. She lingered, from the\nfeeling that she might not be able to rise in the morning; that the\nlanguor and pain which she felt might be signs that the fatal fever was\nalready in her veins. Isa could not leave Gaspar without one more appeal\nto the tempted one, whom\u2014a secret foreboding voice seemed to whisper\u2014she\nwas now for the last time addressing. Isa returned back from the door\nto the spot where her brother was seated, softly laid her hand on his\nshoulder, pressed her feverish lips on his brow, and then murmured, \u201cO\nGaspar, fly not from duty! Whither can we go without having God and\nour conscience still beside us?\u201d After uttering this last warning, she\nhastily quitted the room.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nTHE NIGHT.\n\n\n\u201cO my Lord, do Thou direct and bless us. I cast all my cares upon\nThee.\u201d It was with this prayer in her heart that Isa laid her aching\nhead on her pillow on that night. Cares had thickened around her: the\ndanger of disease, disfigurement, perhaps an early death, was looming\nbefore her, yet Isa was not unhappy. Though scarcely able to frame a\nconnected prayer, never had the maiden approached the mercy-seat with\nmore childlike confidence than she did now. As the Christian goes from\nstrength to strength, Isa\u2019s late victory over malice, resentment, and\nself-will, had left a sweet sense of repose in the love and the wisdom of\nGod. Isa had risked her happiness for the sake of conscience; or rather,\nshe had placed her happiness in the hands of her Lord, where she felt it\nto be safer than in her own. He would guard her from sickness, suffering,\nand sorrow, or bless her in the midst of them all. God had given her\u2014of\nthis Isa now felt a sweet assurance\u2014the heart of one whose affection to\nher outweighed the world. Even if it were God\u2019s will that she should not\nagain on earth meet her Henry, the union of those who are one in Christ\nis not for this life alone. Isa, and him whom she loved, had alike given\nthemselves unreservedly to their Lord: in life or in death they were His,\nand no really good thing would their heavenly Father withhold from His\nchildren. Isa\u2019s faith had greatly ripened during the last few days. She\nfelt the sunshine on her soul\u2014she felt the refreshing dew of God\u2019s grace;\nand a mellowed sweetness was the result\u2014while peace mantled her soul\nlike the soft down on the peach, from whose surface the drops from the\nbursting thunder-cloud trickle harmlessly away.\n\nVery different was it with the unhappy Gaspar. Little rest was to be his\nduring that night. He was in an agony of irresolution: Isa\u2019s words had\nnot been without their effect. Sometimes he resolved to meet Cora with\nan open confession, and throw himself on her generosity to shield his\ncharacter from reproach, while he made all the reparation in his power\nfor the injury which he had done her. Then stronger than ever came the\nimpulse to fly the country. He had enough of property on the premises\nto enable him to live in comfort in some part of Europe where his\nantecedents would be unknown. If he could not keep his plunder in England\nfrom the grasp of the law, he would bear it thence, beyond reach of loss\nor of shame. But would he be beyond the avenging arm of Divine Justice?\nMight not that arm be raised at that very moment to smite him in the\nperson of his sister; to make her\u2014the pure, the innocent, the generous\u2014a\nvictim for the crime of her brother?\n\nThe sound of footsteps in the sick-room above him made Gaspar restless\nand uneasy: prognostications of evil disturbed him. When he fell at\nlength into a state of slumber, through his dreams sounded the measured\ntoll of the death-bell: a funeral seemed moving slowly before him, the\nblack plumes of the hearse nodding over the white-bordered pall. Gaspar\nawoke with a start of terror, raised himself on his elbow, and gazed\naround him. To his disordered fancy, it seemed as if the light, which was\nalways kept in his chamber at night, were burning blue; the shadows which\nit cast on ceiling and wall took strange shapes, which appalled him, he\nknew not why. The dimly-seen portrait of his father above the mantelpiece\nseemed to Gaspar to look on him with stern and threatening eyes: as he\ngazed, he could fancy that they moved, and, wild as he knew the fancy to\nbe, the idea made him strangely shiver.\n\nHark! was there not a moving of bolts and bars in the study adjoining,\nand a stealthy footstep heard on the creaking floor? Had Gaspar\u2019s secret\nbeen betrayed? Attracted by rich hoards of plunder, were robbers\nentering the house? Mr. Gritton strained his ear and listened; till at\nlength, unable longer to endure uncertainty, he started up from his couch\nand opened the door which divided his sleeping-room from the study. All\nthere was perfectly dark, perfectly still: if there had been any sound,\nit must have been but caused by the night wind shaking the shutters or\nmoaning under the door. Gaspar could not, however, return to his bed: he\ndressed, and, as he did so, marvelled to find his fingers trembling as if\nfrom palsied age.\n\nTaking his candle to light him, Gaspar then proceeded to the vault which\ncontained his treasure. He had perhaps no very definite purpose in\nvisiting it, except that of removing a small sum required for household\nexpenses; yet there was a floating idea in his mind of ascertaining how\nlarge a sum in gold he could convey away packed in so small a space as\nnot to excite suspicion. Lottie\u2019s accidental discovery of the vault had\nmade her master more than usually on his guard against betraying his\nsecret to others. He therefore carefully closed the trap-door behind him\nbefore descending the ladder, and as carefully closed the door which\ndivided the outer vault from the inner, when he had entered the latter,\nthe treasure-cave of his wealth.\n\n[Illustration: GASPAR AMONGST HIS TREASURES.]\n\nThere stood the miser, in the midst of his hoards of silver and gold\u2014a\nlonely, miserable man. Those bags heavy with coin, won at the price of\nconscience and honour, had no more power to give peace to his soul than\ntheir hard, cold contents could afford nourishment to his frame. The\nplace felt damp, the air oppressive. A deathly chill came over Gaspar\nGritton. He had strange difficulty in unfastening the string round one of\nhis canvas bags. His fingers shook violently as he did so: he overthrew\nthe heavy bag, and had a dull perception that money was clinking and\nfalling and rolling around him in every direction. Gaspar stooped with\na vague intention of picking it up, but was utterly unable to find or\neven to see the coin; and equally impossible was it for him to regain\nhis former standing posture. A strange numbness came over the unhappy\nman: thought and feeling were alike suspended, and he lay for hours in a\nsenseless state on the damp, brick-paved floor, besprinkled with gold.\n\nSome degree of consciousness returned at last; but it was that strange\nconsciousness which may exist in a trance of catalepsy, such as that\nwhich now enchained the faculties of Gaspar Gritton. He lay as one dead,\nin the position in which he had fallen, unable to stir a muscle or to\nutter a sound\u2014unable to give the smallest outward sign of life. And yet\nthe mind was awake, alive to the horrors of his situation. Gaspar was\nburied in the midst of his treasures, in the living grave which he had so\ncarefully prepared, so jealously concealed. Men would search for him, and\nnever find him. But would they even search? Gaspar recalled with anguish\nthe intention of sudden flight which he had expressed to his sister. She\nwho cared for him\u2014she who loved him\u2014she who, under other circumstances,\nwould never have rested until she had found him\u2014would naturally conclude\nfrom his own words that he had fled from fear of exposure, and would\nnot even make an attempt to discover the place of his retreat. It would\nnever be discovered till perhaps ages hence, when the edifice above had\ncrumbled away\u2014the foundations might be dug up, and a nameless skeleton\nfound surrounded by heaps of money and treasures of silver plate. Gaspar\nhad meditated flying from duty, and stern judgment had arrested him on\nthe threshold. In the gloomy, silent vault the sinner was left alone with\nGod and his conscience. The candle which Gaspar had brought with him\nburned down, flickered in the socket, went out. All was darkness, all\nsilence, all horror! It was as if the fearful sentence had already been\npassed upon him who had been enslaved by the love of money,\u2014_Your gold\nand silver is cankered, and the rust of them shall be a witness against\nyou, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire; ye have heaped treasure\ntogether for the last days._\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nA SISTER\u2019S VOICE.\n\n\nLottie had not been alarmed by not hearing from her mother, well knowing\nthat, though Mrs. Stone was able to read, she had never penned a letter\nin the course of her life. Lottie talked cheerfully and hopefully to\nSteady on the evening following that on which the last meeting had been\nheld, as they sat together by the little window after the work of the day\nwas over.\n\n\u201cNow that Mr. Arthur has come back, it do seem as if everything were\na-brightening,\u201d said she. \u201cHe\u2019s getting over his sickness wonderful,\nand I don\u2019t believe as father\u2019s was ever half so bad. Father will be\na-coming home too; and Mr. Arthur will speak a word for him\u2014I\u2019m sure that\nhe will\u2014and get him work at the factory again, or maybe at the Castle.\nMother won\u2019t need to work so hard, and we\u2019ll have a nice little cottage\nof our own, and not have to live in a lodging over a shop.\u201d\n\nBrightly glowed the reflection of the setting sun on the windows of the\nopposite side of the street; and Lottie\u2019s black eyes, as she gazed on it,\nseemed to have caught the cheerful gleam. But even as she looked, the sun\nsank below the western horizon, the ruddy light gradually faded away, and\nthe gray hue of twilight succeeded.\n\n\u201cThere be mother!\u201d suddenly exclaimed young Stone, rising quickly from\nhis seat, as with weary step a lonely woman turned the corner of the\nstreet, bending as if under a heavy burden of years or sorrow, and never\nonce lifting her drooping eyes towards her home as she approached it.\n\n\u201cMother\u2014alone! Oh, where\u2014where has she left father?\u201d exclaimed Lottie,\nstarting up and running to meet her.\n\nDeborah found the door open, and Lottie there with a look of eager\ninquiry on her face. But no word was uttered; for the sight of her\nmother\u2019s countenance, and the scraps of shabby mourning which she wore,\ntook from the young, warm-hearted girl all power of speech. She followed\nDeborah upstairs, thankful that Mrs. Green chanced to be at the moment\nout of the way.\n\n\u201cHow\u2019s father?\u201d asked the son, who had met his mother on the staircase.\n\nDeborah made no reply, but entered the room, sank wearily on a chair, and\nburied her face in her hands. She was a woman who seldom wept; but now\nher whole frame shook with convulsive sobs. Lottie knelt down beside her,\nlooking up with anxious grief and fear into her mother\u2019s face. She could\nwith difficulty catch the meaning of Mrs. Stone\u2019s scarcely articulate\nwords:\n\n[Illustration: THE MOTHER\u2019S RETURN.]\n\n\u201cThank God, at least I was in time to see him, to be with him, at the\nlast!\u201d\n\nThen the widow raised her head, stretched out her arms, and drew sobbing\nto her heart her two fatherless children.\n\nYes, the long-cherished dream of hope was over; the erring\nhusband\u2014forgiven, loved, and watched for\u2014had returned to his native\nshore to die. Stone had seen his injured wife, and breathed his last\nsigh in her arms. Had he died a penitent? Deborah fondly clung to the\nhope; and when she had a little regained her composure, repeated to her\nchildren again and again every faintly-breathed sentence from the lips of\nthe dying man that could possibly be deemed an expression of penitence or\nan utterance of prayer. Who could have borne to have quenched her hope,\nor who would dare to say that the daily supplication of wife and children\nfor a wandering sinner had not been answered at last?\n\nAs Deborah had hardly had one hour\u2019s uninterrupted sleep during the\npreceding week, she was almost overpowered by physical weariness as well\nas by mental distress; and Lottie had little difficulty in persuading her\nto go to bed at once. This was the poor widow\u2019s only place of refuge from\nthe intrusion of her neighbours; for no sooner was it noised through Axe\nthat Mrs. Stone had returned home after attending the death-bed of her\nhusband, than some impelled by sympathy, some by mere curiosity, visited\nher humble lodging, tormenting the weeping Lottie with questions, or\nwell-meant attempts at offering consolation. She was thankful to close\nthe door at last upon all, and with a very heavy heart prepare to go\nherself to rest.\n\n\u201cShall we have just a bit of a prayer together, Steady, as we always\nhave?\u201d said the poor girl, with a faltering voice. It had been the habit\nof the brother and sister thus to pray, from the time when they had knelt\nas children together in their cottage home at Wildwaste, perhaps to be\nstartled from their knees by the noisy entrance of a parent reeling home\nfrom the ale-house. Steady was very quiet, almost stolid; he had had no\noutburst of sorrow on hearing of the death of his father; perhaps those\nmiserable days at Wildwaste had left deeper memories on a mind more slow\nto receive or to part with impressions; he had certainly never been\nbuoyed up with the same joyous hopes as his sister had been, and was\ntherefore less sensitive to disappointment. The lad knelt down without\nreply, leaving, as usual, to Lottie the uttering of the simple prayer, to\nwhich he was wont to add the closing Amen.\n\n\u201cPray God bless and keep dear\u2014;\u201d Lottie could go no further. Alas! who\nhas not felt how the first omission of a dear familiar name in prayer\nbrings vividly to the soul of the mourner the reality of that separation,\nwhich, as regards this world, is softened by no hope. Lottie could only\nsob, while her brother, slowly and very briefly, concluded the little\nprayer.\n\nLottie rose on the morrow with the feeling that there was a great blank\nin her life; and yet it was not in the nature of things that she should\nsorrow as long and as deeply for such a parent as Abner had been, as\nfor one who had faithfully fulfilled the duties of husband and father.\nShe resolved to devote herself more than ever to her mother; and was\nalmost glad, for her sake, that she herself had been obliged to leave\nWildwaste. The return of Arthur and Lina Madden from Palestine had\ndiverted the attention of gossips from the subject of Lottie\u2019s mysterious\nsovereigns, and as it was widely known that she had been seen on the box\nof a carriage in which not only Arthur but Mr. Eardley had been seated,\nslander itself was forced to own that \u201cthe gentlefolk, anyways, seemed to\nknow as how Lottie had come honestly by that money; though \u2019twas a pity,\nit was, that she made such a mystery about it.\u201d\n\nIn the afternoon the unwelcome step of Mrs. Green was heard on the stair.\nIt was her third visit on that day to the widow\u2019s little room, as she\nhad twice before bustled up \u201cjust to see if she could do nothing for the\npoor soul,\u201d as she said, but in reality to pick up scraps of gossip to\nretail to the baker\u2019s sisters and the linen-draper\u2019s wife. This time,\nhowever, Mrs. Green came up eager to impart news rather than to hear it.\nUnceremoniously seating herself in the darkened room of sorrow in which\nwere the newly-made widow and her fatherless girl, she said to Lottie,\nwho was preparing the simple afternoon meal, \u201cI say, Lottie Stone, I\nthink that there new house at Wildwaste is somehow bewitched! Here\u2019s you\na-running away from it, you can\u2019t or you won\u2019t say why; and now there\u2019s\nits own master suddenly disappeared, and no one knows what\u2019s become of\nhim.\u201d\n\n\u201cDisappeared!\u201d echoed Lottie, in surprise.\n\n\u201cAy; no one\u2019s seen nothing of him since last night, and all Wildwaste\u2019s\nin a commotion. He\u2019d been to bed, too, that was clear; and no one saw\nhim leave the house in the morning; and Hannah says that she could take\nher oath that the chain was up on the house-door when she went to it at\nseven. But Mr. Gritton\u2019s not in the Lodge; it\u2019s been searched from top to\nbottom.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s been lost in the bog\u2014like that miserable Dan Ford,\u201d said Deborah,\ngloomily.\n\n\u201cNo, not that,\u201d replied Mrs. Green; \u201cthe bog\u2019s not in a dangerous state\njust now; we\u2019ve had so much hot sunshine, that you might ride a horse\nacross the common from one end to the other.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs my dear lady much frightened about her brother?\u201d asked Lottie, who\nhad been listening with breathless interest.\n\n\u201cNot half so much frightened as one might expect, Hannah says; nor half\nso much surprised at his disappearing. It seems as if she\u2019d a notion\nwhere he has gone, though she does not choose to tell what she knows. But\nMiss Gritton ain\u2019t very well, they says; depend on\u2019t, she\u2019s in for the\nfever. There\u2019s nothing in the world so catching as small-pox.\u201d\n\nLottie\u2019s heart sank within her.\n\n\u201cMrs. Bolder thinks,\u201d continued Mrs. Green, \u201cthat Mr. Gritton has just\ngone off to Lunnon to be out of the way of infection; but it\u2019s odd enough\nthat he should have gone away without his hat, for that\u2019s hanging up in\nthe hall; and its odder still that he should have been pulling about the\nfurniture like a madman. Hannah told Mrs. Bolder, though she did not say\na word of it to trouble Miss Gritton, that she found the study in strange\ndisorder\u2014the table pulled out of its place, the very drugget rolled up!\u201d\n\nLottie was hardly able to stifle the sudden exclamation which rose to her\nlips.\n\nHaving unburdened herself of her news, Mrs. Green suddenly remembered\nthat her kettle would be boiling over, and bustled out of the room.\nLottie waited impatiently for a few seconds, till she was certain that\nthe landlady was out of hearing, and then with energy exclaimed, \u201cMother,\nmother, I must be off to Wildwaste; I\u2019m sure and certain I\u2019m wanted.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry you ever left your good place there, Lottie; maybe they\nwould not take you back now,\u201d said Deborah sadly. As Lottie had had the\nsmall-pox in her childhood, her mother did not fear her catching the\ncomplaint.\n\n\u201cWhether they will take me back or not, mother, I must go,\u201d said Lottie\nemphatically; \u201cmaster\u2019s lost\u2014maybe I\u2019ll find him!\u201d and hurriedly,\nas if every moment were precious, she took down from their peg her\nstraw-bonnet and cloak.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s getting on in the day, my child, and a walk to Wildwaste is a deal\ntoo long for you now. To-morrow I\u2019ll get the baker to take you in his\ncart\u2014at least a good bit of the way.\u201d\n\nLottie clasped her hands with a look of anxious entreaty. \u201cDon\u2019t stay me,\nmother, don\u2019t stay me. If Wildwaste were twice as far off, I\u2019d walk all\nthe same. I can\u2019t stop till to-morrow; I should not close an eye all the\nnight!\u201d\n\nDeborah had never before known her young daughter\u2019s mind so resolutely\nbent upon any course; she saw that some very urgent motive indeed\nwas drawing Lottie towards Wildwaste. She believed this motive to be\naffection towards her young mistress, and gave up opposing the wishes\nof her child; only insisting on her taking with her a small bundle of\nclothes, and refreshing herself by a cup of tea before she started. In\nless than a quarter of an hour Lottie was hastening on her way towards\nWildwaste.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s all clear to me,\u201d murmured the girl to herself, as she rapidly\nwalked along the street; \u201cmaster has gone down into that dismal place to\nlook after his money, and somehow he has locked himself in and cannot\nget out; and no one thinks of looking for him there; and so he\u2019ll be\nstarved to death, or maybe go right mad in that horrible vault. Hannah\nis hard of hearing\u2014if he called ever so loud she\u2019d never hear him in the\nkitchen; and my lady is upstairs, so his voice would never reach her. It\nmakes one\u2019s blood cold to think of his trying to get help, and shouting\nand calling, and never a soul going near him! I must go and tell those\nwho are searching where to look.\u201d Lottie had been walking very fast, but\nshe slackened her pace as a difficulty occurred to her mind. \u201cBut I must\nnot tell any one of that vault\u2014no, not even Miss Isa; have I not solemnly\npromised to keep the secret? I must go down myself all alone to that\ngloomy place. But what if master should be hiding there on purpose; or\nif some one should come on a sudden and find me down there amongst all\nthe silver and gold, might I not be taken for a thief? I have suffered\nso much already, I could not abide any more of these cruel suspicions;\nand maybe I\u2019d be sent to prison this time, and that would break mother\u2019s\nheart altogether.\u201d The simple girl was so much startled by the images\nof terror called up by her excited fancy, that for a moment she felt\ninclined to turn back. \u201cSuppose I tell Miss Isa\u2014only Miss Isa; that would\nkeep my character clear; and it cannot do harm for her to know where her\nown brother hoards all his money. But that promise\u2014that fatal promise!\nWhat would the Lord have me to do? It is so miserable to be able to ask\nadvice of no one, not even of my own dear mother! I seem going right\ninto the darkness\u2014but then, as Mr. Eardley would say, I\u2019ve the trumpet\nof conscience, and the light of the Word, and the Lord Himself will guide\nme, and make me triumph over all difficulties, if I put my firm trust in\nHim. It seems so wonderful that the glorious King of Heaven should think\nof or care for a poor ignorant child like me!\u201d\n\nThe shades of evening were gathering around her before the weary Lottie\ntrod the well-known path over the common that led to Wildwaste Lodge.\nShe looked up anxiously at the windows as she approached the house; she\nwas uneasy regarding the health of her dear young mistress. When Hannah,\nafter tedious delay, answered Lottie\u2019s timid ring at the door-bell, her\nfirst anxious question was, \u201cOh, tell me, how is Miss Isa?\u201d Lottie had\nto repeat it, for the old servant seemed more deaf, as well as more\nill-tempered than usual.\n\n\u201cShe has a headache\u2014natural enough, turning herself into a sick-nurse\nfor a stranger as gives more trouble than thanks. And she\u2019s a worritting\nafter master, who has disappeared, no one knows how. But what brings you\nback, like a bad halfpenny, Lottie?\u201d added the peevish old woman; \u201cyou\nchose to take yourself off without warning, leaving all the work of the\nhouse on my hands, and now you may just keep away\u2014there\u2019s no one as wants\nyou here!\u201d and Hannah almost shut the door in the face of the girl.\n\n\u201cLet me in\u2014for just this night\u2014oh, let me in. I\u2019ve walked all the six\nmiles from Axe; I can\u2019t go back in the dark all alone!\u201d pleaded Lottie,\nwhose brow and lip were moist with toil-drops, and who felt the absolute\nnecessity of searching the vault without the delay of another hour.\n\u201cHannah, I\u2019ll work like a slave; I\u2019ll do anything that you bid me; just\nspeak a word for me to my mistress, pray her to let me stop, at least\u2014at\nleast till the morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow can I be worritting Miss Isa, with asking any-think for the like\nof you,\u201d said Hannah ungraciously, opening the door, however, a little\nwider, so as to give admittance to Lottie. \u201cYou may go there into the\nkitchen\u2014everything there wants cleaning and looking arter, for not a\nminute have I had to myself this blessed day, what with the fetching and\ncarrying upstairs, downstairs, and all the stir about master, which has\nturned the house upside down. There\u2014you get water from the pump, and fill\nthe kettle, and wash up the plates, while I go up with the medicine;\nthere\u2019s Miss Madden\u2019s bell ringing like mad!\u201d\n\nLottie retired to the kitchen, but neither to rest nor to work. After\nlistening for a few moments to the slow step of the old servant as\nshe mounted the stairs, grumbling at every step, the girl seized her\nopportunity, and darted into the study. The table had not been drawn back\nto its place, the brown drugget lay as Gaspar had left it; but though\nLottie knew the situation of the trap-door in the floor, she could not at\nonce discover it, either owing to the opening being so well concealed,\nor from her own nervous haste causing confusion in her mind. Having at\nlast, rather by feeling than by sight, found the portion of the planks\nthat could be moved, Lottie lifted the trap-door and again timidly gazed\ndown into the darkness below. Before she ventured to descend she paused\nand listened, to make certain that Hannah was still upstairs. She heard\nthe woman\u2019s heavy step in the room above, and then, feeling that every\nminute was precious, Lottie hastily descended the ladder. Not having\nbrought a light with her, and the vault being utterly dark, the girl had\nto grope to find the handle of that inner door which Gaspar had closed,\nbut not locked, behind him. Lottie pressed against the door, but felt\nthat something within resisted her efforts to push it open. She used more\nstrength, pressing with knee and shoulder; the resisting body, whatever\nit might be, yielded a little under her efforts. There was an opening\nsufficiently wide to admit the girl\u2019s hand. Lottie sank on her knees, and\nput down her hand in order to feel what was the nature of the obstruction\nwhich the darkness prevented her from seeing, and uttered a shriek of\nhorror upon touching a clammy human face! A frightful conviction flashed\non her mind that her master had been murdered for his money, and that it\nwas his corpse which lay within the vault.\n\n\u201cOh, they\u2019ve killed him!\u201d she exclaimed aloud in accents of terror,\nstarting to her feet, as she uttered the exclamation of fear.\n\n\u201cKilled whom?\u2014in mercy speak!\u201d cried the agonized voice of Isa from\nabove. Miss Gritton had chanced to enter the study in search of some\npapers, and was with astonishment bending over the open trap-door, when\nshe caught the sound of the terrible words from below. Isa could scarcely\nsee the top rounds of the ladder, so obscure had the twilight become; she\nknew not whither it might lead, or what horrors might lie at the bottom,\nyet she hesitated not for one instant, and almost before the sound of her\nterrified question had died away, she was at the side of Lottie in the\nutter darkness of the vault.\n\n\u201cMaster has been murdered!\u201d gasped the young maid. Gaspar could hear her\nexclamation distinctly, but was unable to speak a word in reply.\n\n\u201cGaspar\u2014O my brother!\u201d cried Isa, in a tone of piercing distress.\n\nThat cry from the lips of a sister broke the spell of the strange trance\nwith which Gaspar Gritton had been bound. During all the long hours of\nhis terrible imprisonment he had been unable to stir or to make the\nleast sound; and though he was conscious of Lottie\u2019s presence when she\ntouched him, and could hear her voice, he had still remained as it were\ndead, helpless as a corpse in his living grave. But to Isa\u2019s call, to his\ninexpressible relief, Gaspar was able to answer; the hitherto paralyzed\nlimbs stirred with life, and with a murmured \u201cGod be praised!\u201d he awoke\nfrom what appeared to him like a dream of unutterable horror.\n\n[Illustration: FOUND IN THE VAULT.]\n\nBut Gaspar\u2019s powers were in a very feeble state; he was unable at first\neven to move far enough from the door which divided him from his sister\nfor it to be opened sufficiently wide to admit of her passing through.\n\n\u201cOh, for a light!\u201d exclaimed Isa; then hearing Hannah\u2019s step in the\nstudy above, she called out loudly, \u201cBring light\u2014help\u2014quick, quick\u2014your\nmaster\u2019s dying down here in the vault!\u201d\n\nSome minutes of terrible anxiety followed; Isa dreaded to see what light\nmight reveal, for the idea of murder, first suggested by Lottie, was\nuppermost in her mind. Hannah had rushed towards the hamlet to summon\naid; Isa sent Lottie up the ladder for a light; the girl had hardly\nprocured it when the hall of the Lodge was filled with a party of\nworkmen, whom Hannah\u2019s loud call for assistance had brought to the house.\n\nBy the help of the men\u2019s strong arms, Mr. Gritton was carried up from his\ngloomy prison-vault, and laid on his bed. Thankful indeed was Isa to find\nthat her brother was unwounded, and apparently unhurt, though in a very\nweak and nervous condition. She neither questioned him, nor suffered him\nto be questioned, but she marked the glances of surprise and suspicion\nexchanged between the workmen, who had seen what they were never designed\nto see, and learned what they were never intended to know. Gaspar\u2019s\nsecret was a secret no longer, except as regarded his way of acquiring\nthe hoards of treasure, of which an exaggerated account spread through\nall the hamlet before the morning.\n\nHaving thanked, rewarded, and dismissed the workmen, Isa sat for hours\nwatching by her brother, and listening to a confession from his lips\nwhich filled her heart with mingled grief, shame, thankfulness, and hope.\n\nThere are some men whom judgments only harden\u2014a thunderbolt might\nshatter, but it never would melt them\u2014Gaspar\u2019s nature resembled not\nsuch. He felt on that solemn night much as Dives might have felt had his\ntortured spirit received a reprieve, and been permitted once more to\ndwell upon earth. He had been given a glimpse, as if by the lurid light\nof the devouring flame, of the utter worthlessness of all for which man\nwould exchange his immortal soul. The impression might become weakened by\ntime, but upon that night it was strong. Gaspar unburdened his soul to\nhis sister; he told her all, even to Lottie\u2019s discovery of the treasure,\nand besought Isa\u2019s counsel in the difficult strait into which his\ncovetousness had brought him.\n\nConfession\u2014reparation! From these Gaspar shrank, as the patient from the\nknife of the surgeon. Could no milder remedy be found, could there be\nno compromise with conscience? Isa dared suggest none, though she would\nhave given all that she possessed on earth to save her brother from\nthe bitter humiliation of acknowledging to Cora Madden the base fraud\nwhich he had committed. The strength of Isa\u2019s faith and obedience was\nbrought to painful proof on that night. If she had yielded but a point,\nif she had counselled delay, if she had administered an opiate to the\ntortured conscience of her brother, as all her tender woman\u2019s nature,\nay, and all her woman\u2019s pride, pleaded for her to do, Gaspar would,\nlike Felix, have put off the hated duty for a more convenient season,\nand the precious moment for action would have passed away for ever. But\nIsa had the fear of God before her eyes; she had a keen perception that\nthis was a crisis in the spiritual life of her brother, that his soul\u2019s\ninterests for eternity might hang on the result of his decision on that\nnight. Her voice had aroused him from the death-like stupor of the body,\nher voice was to be also the means of quickening the lethargic soul. The\nwhisper of delay in his case could but be the breathing of the enemy who\nwould lure him to destruction. Isa reminded Gaspar of the resolution of\nZaccheus, when he had received the Lord into his home and his heart: it\nwas not \u201cI will give,\u201d but _I give_; it was not \u201cI will restore,\u201d but _I\nrestore_. Gaspar was irresolute, undecided, but his good angel was beside\nhim to help his weak nature in the great mental conflict. It was almost\nmidnight before that trying interview ended, and the brother and sister\nseparated, the one to sink into a troubled slumber, the other to return\nto the chamber of Cora, intrusted by Gaspar with the responsible and most\npainful charge of making for him that humiliating confession which he\nhimself had not the courage to make.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nA TRIUMPH.\n\n\nWith a very slow step, aching heart, and knees that trembled beneath\nher, Isa reascended the staircase. One apparently insuperable difficulty\nhad been overcome,\u2014Gaspar had consented to make full reparation. Isa\ncould feel thankful for this; but she had now a breathing-space for\nconsideration, and with inexpressible repugnance she now recoiled from\nthe task set before her. It had been hard to banish from her heart\nresentful emotions in regard to Cora; it had been hard to Isa to receive\nan enemy into her home, to tend her as a sister, to risk health and\nlife in her service. But there had been nothing to wound pride in all\nthis; on the contrary, Isa had stood in the elevated position of a\nbenefactress, as one enjoying the noblest kind of revenge by repaying\ninjuries with kindness. The consciousness of this had brought a feeling\nof gratification. But her position was painfully altered now. Isa\nmust humble herself in the presence of a woman whom she neither loved\nnor respected; she must, as the representative of her brother, confess\nguilt\u2014ask for forgiveness\u2014plead for mercy! Isa stopped half-way on the\nstairs, supporting herself on the banister, for every fibre in her frame\nwas trembling with strong emotion. She had ventured, as it were, to the\noutskirts of the camp of Midian, and felt that she lacked courage to\nstrike the final blow for freedom. A silent cry for help arose to heaven\nfrom the depths of a suffering heart.\n\nCora was one to whom it would be especially painful to make a confession\nsuch as that which burdened the soul of Isa. Miss Madden had been brought\nmuch into contact with the world, had imbibed its spirit, and adopted\none of its most dangerous ideas,\u2014namely, a disbelief in the existence\nof faith as a ruling motive. Notwithstanding the noble example of piety\nwhich she had had before her in her own brother, Cora had persisted in\nregarding all men as governed either by self-interest or the love of\napprobation.\n\n\u201cSir Robert Walpole said, and said truly,\u201d Cora had once lightly\nobserved, \u201cthat every man has his price; only some will have it told down\nin hard cash, and others are quite contented with the paper-money of\npraise.\u201d\n\nThus Cora refused to see the reflected glory of the Saviour in His\npeople: however brightly their light might shine, she believed that it\nwas fed from an earthly source, and eagerly caught at every instance of\ninconsistency in the servants of God to confirm her theory that they only\nwore piety as a mask, and, in fact, were much the same with the show of\nreligion as the rest of the world were without it.\n\nIt was this fallacy more than anything else that had hardened the heart\nof Cora, and made her justify herself in her own indifference towards\nspiritual things. She would draw down all to the same low level as\nherself, and thus hope to escape condemnation in a crowd. Cora\u2019s chilling\ndisbelief in the practical influence of faith had been shaken when she\nhad first been admitted into the home of Isa Gritton while suffering from\nan infectious complaint. The ice which the world had encrusted round her\nheart had given some signs of melting. Then the idea that the Grittons\nwere, after all, only acting from self-interest, had almost restored her\nfrigid scepticism; she would not recognize the reality and the power of\nthat faith which worketh by love. The sudden and strange disappearance\nof Gaspar had confirmed Cora in her impressions. \u201cHe flies me because he\nfears me,\u201d was the reflection of the proud woman; and the insolence of\nher spirit had broken out even in the presence of the anxious sister.\n\u201cPerhaps Miss Gritton has an idea not only whither, but for what cause,\nher brother had so suddenly vanished from this neighbourhood,\u201d had been\nCora\u2019s sneering remark.\n\nAnd yet, with all her bitterness and worldliness of spirit, Cora was\ncapable of more generous feeling. She was a woman, and, like a woman,\ncould cherish disinterested affection. Cora keenly felt her own isolation\nin life, that isolation which she feared that her personal disfigurement\nwould now render perpetual. She had cut herself off from the proffered\naffection of Arthur and Lina; she had quarrelled with Lionel\u2019s wife; she\nhad many acquaintances, but was painfully aware that she had never made\none true friend. Cora, especially during her illness, had often yearned\nfor the love of a gentle, sympathizing heart, and something of gratitude,\nsomething of admiration, had drawn her towards Isa Gritton.\n\n\u201cHow ill Miss Gritton looks to-night; I fear that she is sickening for\nthe fever,\u201d Mrs. Holdich had observed, on Isa\u2019s quitting the room to\ngo and search for papers in the study, at the time when, as the reader\nknows, Lottie was exploring the vault.\n\nThe observation had inflicted a sharp pang on Cora; she was startled on\nrealizing the possibility that Isa\u2019s life might indeed be given for her\nown, and a contrast would suggest itself between the comparative value\nof those lives. Isa, as Cora knew from Rebekah Holdich, was the light of\nher brother\u2019s home, the gentle benefactress of the poor, and, as Cora\nwas at that very time experiencing, a generous friend to those who needed\nher aid. In her, more than in any one else, Cora had caught a glimpse\nof the beauty of holiness; in her, more than in any one else, Cora had\nbeen almost forced to recognize the power of faith; and at that moment\nthe proud, cold woman felt that there was one being on earth whom she\ncould love, one whom she could not endure to see fall a sacrifice to her\ngenerous kindness to herself.\n\nCora\u2019s bitter but salutary reflections were interrupted by the noise and\nexcitement below, which followed the discovery of Gaspar Gritton in the\nvault. The loud call of Hannah for assistance was distinctly heard in\nthe upper rooms occupied by Miss Madden; and Cora sent down Mrs. Holdich\nin haste to ascertain the cause of such an unusual disturbance. Rebekah\ndid not return for a considerable time, and Cora grew so impatient that\nshe could hardly restrain herself from hurrying downstairs. Mrs. Holdich\ncame at last with the information that Mr. Gritton had been found in\nan insensible state in a vault, that he had been removed to his own\napartment, and that his sister was carefully tending him there. This\nwas all which Cora could learn from Rebekah, and it did not satisfy her\nthirst for information; she determined not to retire to rest until she\nhad seen Isa Gritton. To beguile the time, Cora went up to Isa\u2019s little\nbookcase, hoping to find there some light reading to amuse herself with.\nOne volume, from the elegance of its binding, attracted Miss Madden\u2019s\nattention, and she drew it forth from its place. It contained no work\nof fiction, as Cora had hoped and expected, but a selection of hymns.\nAt another time Cora would have replaced the book, with perhaps an\nexpression of scorn; but she was in a softened mood on that night, and\nher eye was attracted by the marking and double-marking on the margin of\nmany of the pages. Chiefly from curiosity, but possibly from a better\nmotive, Miss Madden carried the book to the place where she usually sat\non her soft-cushioned chair, seated herself, and began to read in a\ndesultory way.\n\nOne of the hymns which had been most strongly marked by Isa was the\nwell-known one commencing with the line,\u2014\n\n    \u201cAnd dost thou say, Ask what thou wilt?\u201d\n\nThis hymn was an especial favourite with Isa, who knew it by heart; but\nthe proud, selfish woman who now perused it, in the stillness of night\nand the seclusion of a sick-room, seemed to be introduced into a new\nworld of sensation as she read the lines, which express a Christian\u2019s\nmost fervent desire:\n\n    \u201cMore of Thy presence, Lord, impart,\n      More of Thine image let me bear;\n    Enthrone Thyself within my heart,\n      And reign without a rival there.\n\n    \u201cGrant this request, I ask no more,\n      But to Thy care the rest resign;\u2014\n    Sick, or in health, or rich, or poor,\n      All shall be well if Thou art mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan it be that any human being really feels this?\u201d thought Cora, half\nclosing the volume. \u201cI cannot believe it. And yet Isa Gritton has acted\nas if she felt it. But no, no\u2014she is at this moment playing the part of\nan accomplice of her money-loving brother. Her faith may make her like\nsuch a book as this, mark it, perhaps cry over it; it may give her that\ngentleness and kindliness which have half won me over to love her in\nspite of myself; it may\u2014yes, it may possibly have some effect in taking\naway the fear of losing beauty, or even life; but when it comes to the\nquestion of its requiring such integrity of conduct as would involve\nloss and disgrace, faith will find it expedient to confine itself to\nsentimental devotion, and the saint will come forth from the closet to\nact in the world\u2014as the children of the world always act.\u201d\n\nA gentle hand noiselessly turned the handle of the door, and Isa glided\ninto the room. She was surprised to see Cora still awake and sitting up\nat the midnight hour.\n\n\u201cI thought that I should have found my patient asleep,\u201d she observed.\n\n\u201cI could not have slept till I had seen you; I wanted to hear about your\nbrother.\u201d\n\nIsa rather sank than seated herself upon a chair; a cold shiver ran\nthrough her frame; she knew not if the overpowering sensations which\noppressed her arose only from the reaction after painful excitement, or\nif she were indeed sickening for a terrible complaint.\n\n\u201cI may be delirious ere morning,\u201d thought Isa; \u201cI must speak now, or I\nnever may have power to speak. May it not be deemed providential that I\nam given an opportunity of confession by this midnight interview with\nCora!\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss Gritton, you look sadly ill,\u201d said Cora, with more of sympathy than\nIsa had ever before heard in her tone. \u201cAre you very anxious regarding\nyour brother?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am very anxious indeed,\u201d replied Isa faintly, glancing at the closed\ndoor which divided the ladies from the room in which Mrs. Holdich was\nresting, to be sure that no ear but Cora\u2019s should hear what she was\nbracing up her courage to say. \u201cMiss Madden, I have come charged with a\nmessage to you from Gaspar.\u201d Isa paused, for she was very breathless;\nher heart fluttered\u2014she had a strange difficulty in articulating her\nwords; she dared not look up and meet the keen gaze which she was\ncertain was fixed upon her. \u201cMy brother believes\u2014feels sure\u2014that there\nis no evidence which could be produced in a court of law which could\nbring home to him that\u2014that of which you have been led to suspect him.\u201d\nAnother very painful pause; Isa pressed her hand to her side to still\nthe throbbing of her heart. \u201cBut,\u201d she continued with an effort, \u201cGaspar\nknows\u2014owns\u2014that though man cannot convict, there is a higher tribunal\nthan man\u2019s, and before it he cannot plead his innocence. It was indeed\nnot your property which was lost in the _Orissa_\u2014your money is in the\nhands of my brother, and shall be restored, principal and interest;\nyou shall have ample satisfaction as far as gold can give it. And oh,\nCora\u2014Miss Madden\u2014will not this compensation suffice? will you not forgive\nall the past, and spare the reputation of him who thus throws himself on\nyour indulgence? will you not shield from reproach one who is ready amply\nto redeem the wrong committed under strong temptation, and show your\ngenerosity by burying this unhappy affair in silence and oblivion?\u201d\n\nIsa clasped her hands as she spoke in the fervour of her pleading; her\neyes suddenly raised met those of Cora, and to her surprise beheld them\nbrimming over with tears.\n\nCora rose from her seat. \u201cO Isa,\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cfear nothing from me!\nHad the wrong been tenfold, I have learned from you how to forgive\u2014and\nmuch besides!\u201d And with a burst of emotion, which all her pride could\nnot restrain, Cora threw her arms around Isa, who found herself, to her\ngreat astonishment, pressed to the heart of one who had been her bitter,\nmalignant enemy.\n\n[Illustration: THE CONFESSION.]\n\nThe victories of faith are not only over inward foes: when the ways of a\nman are pleasing to the Lord, He maketh even his enemies to be at peace\nwith him. Isa, in her gentleness and Christian sympathy, her uprightness,\nher obedience to the call of duty, had done more to lead her proud,\nerring heart to repentance than all the sermons which had fallen on the\near of Cora like seed on the trodden wayside. Cora had never realized\nhow far she herself was from being a Christian, till she had seen\nexemplified in one of her own sex and station what a Christian should be.\nIt was in the hour when Isa felt humiliated, covered with shame for the\nerrors of a brother, that she had forced from proud lips that tribute to\nher character which was in itself an acknowledgment of inferiority such\nas no being had ever before wrung from Cora Madden. Isa had won a noble\ntriumph\u2014she had conquered the heart of her foe.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\n\nThere was much excitement in Wildwaste relative to the occurrences\nof that night. Various rumours spread, with more or less of truth\nin them, concerning Gaspar Gritton, and the strange way in which he\nhad been discovered lying in a lifeless state in a mysterious vault\nfull of treasure. As Lottie was reinstated in her place, and Cora was\nconvalescent, the services of Mrs. Holdich were no longer required; the\nsteward\u2019s wife\u2014after changing her infected garments\u2014returned to her\nhome, where she was besieged by curious inquirers. Rebekah smiled at the\nstrange exaggerations which had spread around, like widening circles\non a lake into which a pebble has been thrown. It was true, she said,\nthat Lottie had performed an important service, had been the means of\npreserving her master\u2019s life, for which she would be liberally rewarded;\nbut as regarded the vault and its mysterious contents, Rebekah maintained\na placid silence. She had a note from Isa to convey to the Castle, in\nwhich Arthur and Lina Madden were now residing as the baronet\u2019s guests.\nThe result of that note was, that Holdich appeared that afternoon at\nWildwaste Lodge, equipped for a journey to London, part of his equipment\nbeing a pair of loaded revolvers. Crowds of workmen and their families\nthronged before the Lodge, curiously watching the door through which were\nborne iron boxes, very heavy in proportion to their size, and believed to\ncontain treasures of plate and bullion sufficient to buy up the village.\nWith emotions of intense relief and deep thankfulness Isa watched from\nthe window the departure of the cart for the station, with the sturdy\nsteward seated on one of the boxes within it, keeping faithful watch over\nhis dangerous charge. It was not only because in that lawless part of the\ncountry the Lodge would scarcely have been a safe residence when known to\ncontain a treasure, that Isa rejoiced in its departure; it was because\nshe looked on that ill-gotten gold much as our ancestors looked upon the\nbarrels of gunpowder buried in a vault beneath Parliament-house by an\ninsidious and cruel foe. It had been placed there not to enrich, but to\ndestroy; not as a blessing, but a curse;\u2014_an enemy hath done this_. From\nthe days of Achan unto our own, there is a woe for him who heapeth up\nriches unrighteously won.\n\nNo one from the Lodge appeared at the steward\u2019s cottage on that evening,\nand he himself was absent on his mission to London; but Edith Lestrange\nand her guests came from the Castle to attend Mr. Eardley\u2019s closing\nlecture on the \u201cTriumph over Midian.\u201d\n\n\nLECTURE VII.\u2014FAITH CROWNED.\n\nThe men of Ephraim, as was mentioned at our last meeting, had encountered\nsome of the fugitives of Midian, had slain two of their princes, and\nbrought their heads to Gideon. But the Ephraimites, men of a warlike\ntribe, were angry at having been appointed but a secondary part; they\nwere indignant at the chief honour, as well as the chief danger, of the\nstruggle having been assigned to Gideon\u2019s three hundred heroes.\n\n\u201cWhy hast thou served us thus,\u201d they fiercely exclaimed to the leader,\n\u201cthat thou calledst us not when thou wentest to fight the Midianites?\u201d\nThey came full of jealous resentment; and instead of rejoicing in the\ntriumph, chafed at not having sooner been permitted to share it.\n\n_Only by pride cometh contention; with the lowly is wisdom._ Gideon,\nhumble in the midst of his marvellous success, experienced the power of\nthe soft answer to turn away wrath. He said unto the indignant warriors,\n_What have I done now in comparison of you? Is not the gleaning of the\ngrapes of Ephraim better than the vintage of Abiezer? God hath delivered\ninto your hands the princes of Midian, Oreb and Zeeb: and what was I\nable to do in comparison of you? Then, adds the sacred narrative, their\nanger was abated towards him._\n\n[Illustration: GIDEON AND THE EPHRAIMITES.]\n\nBut it was not with the proud sons of Ephraim, but with his own band,\nthe chosen of God, that Gideon completed his victory by following up the\npursuit beyond Jordan. They held a commission from the Most High, and\nexchanging their trumpets and torches for weapons of war, _faint, yet\npursuing_, they pressed on. Weary and hungry were the brave warriors of\nGideon; they lacked refreshment to renew their failing strength, but that\nrefreshment was cruelly withheld, first by the men of Succoth, and then\nby those of Penuel, from whom Gideon had craved the much-needed supplies.\nThese inhabitants of Succoth and Penuel, sons of Israel unworthy of the\nname, afterwards received the punishment due for their indifference to a\nholy cause\u2014their base inhospitable neglect of those bearing the burden\nand heat of the conflict.\n\nAnd can we find none even in a Christian land whose conduct closely\nresembles that of the men of Succoth and Penuel? The missionaries of the\nCross are engaged in a long and arduous struggle to carry the banner of\ntheir Lord into the strongholds of heathen error. They are a small and,\nas regards numbers, a feeble band; they need support and sympathy from\nthose who dwell at ease in their peaceful homes. For them their heavenly\nLeader deigns to ask the aid of their brethren. In the words of Gideon\nwe seem to hear the Lord\u2019s _Give, I pray you, loaves of bread unto\nthe people that follow me, for they be faint_. And how is that appeal\nreceived by the greater number of those who call themselves Christians?\nSome, indeed, rejoice to bring out their offerings; they deem it an\nhonour to be permitted to give from their stores and refresh the fainting\npowers of those who are foremost in fighting the good fight of faith. To\nthese how sweet the Saviour\u2019s promise to His disciples: _Whosoever shall\ngive you a cup of water to drink in My name, because ye belong to Christ,\nverily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward_.\n\nBut shall not the multitudes who give no aid to the servants of God, who\nshare the guilt of Penuel and Succoth, fear to share their punishment\nalso? It is lack of faith that hardens the heart, that closes the hand;\nfor who could refuse to give\u2014give largely, give to the utmost of his\npower\u2014if he really _believed_ that at the last day those who have turned\na deaf ear to the appeal of the weary, shall hear from the lips of the\nEternal Judge the terrible words, _Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of\nthe least of these, ye did it not to Me. Depart from Me, ye cursed!_\n\nFaint, yet pursuing, Gideon and his band followed on the track of Zebah\nand Zalmunna, the kings of Midian. These, with about fifteen thousand\nmen who had escaped from the slaughter which followed the sounding of\nthe trumpets, had reached Karkor, and believed themselves there to be\nsecure from further attack. _Faint, but pursuing._ Thus, in his life-long\nwarfare against sin, presses on the Christian from grace to grace, till\nGod receives him to glory. He must not sheathe the sword of the Spirit\nwhile one evil passion remains unsubdued; he must not relax his efforts\ntill the Almighty himself perfect the victory within him, and call him\nto inherit the kingdom above. We may have much to discourage us, much to\ntry our courage and patience; it is not by one effort, however great,\nthat the yoke of Midian can be broken, that faith can finally triumph\nover corruption within. _Let patience leave its perfect work_; however\nlong and arduous may be the pursuit, God can uphold, strengthen, and\nbless us, as in His name and for His sake we struggle on, _faint, yet\npursuing_.\n\nComplete success crowned the efforts of Gideon. He came up with the men\nof Midian, discomfited all their host, and took captive their kings Zebah\nand Zalmunna. As they were not of the doomed races of Canaan, the leader\nof Israel would have spared these foes, had they not been stained with\nthe blood of his brethren, whom, by the Midianites\u2019 own confession, they\nhad slain at Tabor. Gideon was by law the avenger of this blood. The\nsacred record gives us a striking glimpse of the way in which justice\nwas satisfied in that remote age\u2014the brief investigation, and the prompt\nexecution by the hand of the near of kin, according to the commandment of\nMoses: _The murderer shall surely be put to death; the revenger of blood\nhimself shall slay the murderer; when he meeteth him, he shall slay him_\n(Num. xxxv. 18, 19). Gideon inquired of Zebah and Zalmunna, \u201cWhat manner\nof men were they whom ye slew at Tabor?\u201d evidently alluding to some\nwell-known act of violence. And the princes made answer, \u201cAs thou art,\nso were they; each one resembled the children of a king.\u201d And he said,\n\u201cThey were my brethren, even the sons of my mother: as the Lord liveth,\nif ye had saved them alive, I would not slay you.\u201d\n\nGideon then commanded his first-born to fulfil the stern duty of the\navenger of blood; but the youth shrank from the office. \u201cRise thou, and\nfall upon us,\u201d cried the bold sons of Midian to Gideon; \u201cfor as the man\nis, so is his strength.\u201d By the hand of their conqueror, therefore, Zebah\nand Zalmunna met the fate which their crimes had deserved.\n\nThe victories of Gideon, his great services rendered to his country, had\nwon for him the enthusiastic admiration and gratitude of the people whom\nhe had freed from the enemy\u2019s yoke. Nothing was deemed by his countrymen\ntoo great a reward for the hero who had delivered them. Let him who had\nsaved Israel become the head of the nation, the first of a dynasty of\nrulers. The men of Israel said unto Gideon, \u201cRule thou over us, both\nthou, and thy son, and thy son\u2019s son also; for thou hast delivered us\nfrom the hand of Midian.\u201d\n\nBut Gideon\u2019s had been the triumph of faith, not the proud struggle of\nambition. He desired no crown; he would mount no throne; the Lord God of\nHosts alone should be the King of Israel. \u201cI will not rule over you,\u201d\nsaid Gideon; \u201cneither shall my son rule over you: the Lord shall rule\nover you.\u201d It is to God alone that belongeth the power and the glory; it\nwas God who had smitten down Midian, and Gideon, great in humility as in\nhis faith, gave the honour to God. Rich was the blessing that followed,\nas recorded in the page of Scripture, _Thus was Midian subdued before the\nchildren of Israel, so that they lifted up their heads no more. And the\ncountry was in quietness forty years in the days of Gideon._\n\nWe have seen in the history before us the tree of faith budding, bearing\nfair blossoms, and then its fruits gradually ripening into perfection.\nWe now see, as it were, those precious fruits gathered and laid as an\noffering upon the altar of the Lord. The Saviour _shall come to be\nglorified in His saints, and admired in all them that believe_; the\nharvest is His, His servants lay its treasures at His feet.\n\nAnd what is the practical lesson, my brethren, left on our minds by\nthe record of the perils, the exploits, and the success of Gideon? Can\nwe trace in it any likeness to the experience of our own soul? Have we\nreceived the angel\u2019s visit, heard the promise, obeyed the command? Have\nwe thrown down the idolatrous shrine in the spirit breathed in the words\nof the poet,\u2014\n\n    \u201cThe dearest idol I have known,\n      Whate\u2019er that idol be,\n    Help me to tear it from its throne,\n      And worship only Thee.\u201d\n\nHave we trusted to God alone to strengthen us for the conflict with sin\nby the grace of His Holy Spirit, and with His Word in our hands have we\ninvaded the enemy\u2019s camp, and pursued him with earnest self-denying zeal?\nHave we fought and conquered our Midianites by the power of living faith?\n\nOr, to change the metaphor, has faith been with us as the blighted tree,\non which the sunshine falls in vain, which stands a bare form, a lifeless\nthing, when spring clothes all around it with verdure? Has the Lord of\nthe vineyard said of it, _Lo, these three_, or ten, or twenty _years I\ncome seeking fruit, and finding none. Cut it down; why cumbereth it the\nground?_ Oh, my brethren, that faith which is shown not by deeds, that\nfaith which works not by love, is _not_ the faith which is firmly rooted\nin the Rock of Ages. A cold assent of the reason is not faith, a lifeless\nprofession is not faith; that is faith which beareth good fruits\u2014that\nwhich, like the faith of Gideon, overcometh the enemy.\n\nWe have to pursue our Midianites to the Jordan, but not beyond Jordan.\nAt the fords of the \u201cnarrow stream of death\u201d the last enemy will perish\nfor ever. Into the bright land beyond, Disappointment, Discontent cannot\nenter; for there is the fulness of joy and pleasures for evermore.\nDissension is unknown where every look and thought are love; nor can\nthe shadow of Distrust fall in the realm of eternal light, for the\nservants of Christ shall _see Him as He is_, and dwell with Him in bliss\neverlasting.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nCONCLUSION.\n\n\nMonths had rolled away, months crowded with incidents of interest to the\npersonages in my story, and now Edith and Isa stand again on the summit\nof the grassy mound by Castle Lestrange, which overlooks a landscape so\nwide and so fair. They behold Nature no longer clad in the light-green\ndrapery of spring, spangled with blossoms, but in the rich full foliage\nof summer, which the setting sun is bathing in golden glory. Edith\u2019s\nblue eyes are gazing on the magnificent sky, where the bright orb of\nday, while sinking down on a throne of fiery clouds, is throwing upwards\nwidening streams of light where rosy clouds, like islands of the blessed,\nsoftly float in clear blue ether. Never, even in Italy, had Edith\nwitnessed a finer sunset; it seemed like a glimpse granted to mortals\nbelow of the coming glories of heaven.\n\n\u201cHow resplendent is the sky!\u201d exclaimed Edith, after a pause of silent\nadmiration.\n\n\u201cAnd how beautiful the earth!\u201d added Isa.\n\n\u201cAh, on the eve of your bridal day, dearest, the prospect may well look\nfair in your eyes, but still it owes its chief beauty to the radiance\nabove it.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: A FAIR PROSPECT.]\n\n\u201cI think that it must always be so to the Christian,\u201d observed Isa. \u201cThe\nvery crown of earthly happiness is to think that it is not all earthly;\nthat our Lord, who has joined our hearts together, will also join our\nhands; and that the union which He makes will endure when that sun itself\nis dark!\u201d Isa\u2019s eyes glistened with tears as she spoke, but they welled\nup from a deep fount of joy.\n\n\u201cJust look towards Wildwaste!\u201d cried Edith; \u201cthey have finished that\ntriumphal arch of evergreens and roses at which Lottie and her brother,\nand all the children of the hamlet, have been working so hard since\ndaybreak. I never thought that Wildwaste could put on an appearance so\nbright and so gay. Every cottage has its garland, and I should not wonder\nif the manufactory itself burst into an illumination to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suspect that the enthusiasm and the rejoicing,\u201d said Isa gayly, \u201cis\nless on account of the wedding than to express the joy of the hamlet\nat Arthur Madden\u2019s being appointed to succeed Mr. Bull. Old Bolder was\nspeaking so warmly on the subject this morning. \u2018There will be good days\nfor Wildwaste yet,\u2019 he said, \u2018now that we\u2019ve a pastor who will work, and\npray while he works; who loves his people, and will make them love him!\nWe\u2019ll not have all the drunkenness and riot which have made Wildwaste a\nblot on the land! I\u2019ve felt better ever since I heard the good news,\u2019 he\nadded, rubbing his hands; \u2018and I\u2019ll make a shift, I will, to throw away\nmy crutches, and get to church the day that Mr. Arthur gives his first\nsermon.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery one welcomes their young clergyman as the benefactor of the\nplace,\u201d observed Edith.\n\n\u201cLottie would be almost sorry to leave Wildwaste,\u201d said Isa, \u201cwere she\nnot going with me to Axe, where she will be close to her widowed mother,\nand able often to be with her.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe only person for whom I feel sorry in the midst of all this\nrejoicing,\u201d observed Edith, \u201cis your poor brother, Mr. Gritton. He will\nmiss you so sadly, when all alone in that dreary house at Wildwaste.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suspect that he will not be long alone,\u201d said Isa.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u2014is it true then?\u201d asked Edith quickly, glancing up into the face\nof her companion; \u201cbut surely, surely it must grieve you to think of\nhaving Cora Madden as a sister!\u201d\n\n\u201cSome months ago it would have grieved me inexpressibly,\u201d replied Isa\ngravely. \u201cI should have deemed such a connection a heavy misfortune; but\nCora is changed, so much changed, since her illness.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hear that the small-pox has left deep traces\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, on her character,\u201d interrupted Isa. \u201cCora is much softened, I hope\nhumbled; there is so much less of asperity in her manner, of sarcasm in\nher tone. Is it not strange, Edith, that she of whom I once spoke so\nharshly when you and I stood here conversing together, should seem now to\nturn towards me with the affection of a sister?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have indeed been a sister to her, dear Isa; often have I wondered\nat your courage in braving infection, and your unselfishness in enduring\nquarantine, and all for one whom you dis\u2014\u2014whom you could not love. But\nyours was the courage, the self-devotion of faith, and God guarded you\nfrom the danger.\u201d\n\n\u201cGod has indeed crowned me with loving-kindness and tender mercies!\u201d\nexclaimed Isa, whose quick eye had caught sight at that moment of a\nwell-known form advancing up the avenue. All her cares and fears, all her\ndifficulties and trials, had now been exchanged for exceeding joy; every\ncloud in her sky, like those round the sun, had become a golden mansion\nof light.\n\nShall earth be called only \u201ca vale of tears,\u201d and all its hopes be\ncompared to a withering leaf? Is happiness below but a fading vision? Not\nso; for even here the Almighty can throw sunshine around His children,\nand sweeten their cup with drops from that fountain of bliss whose full\nstream shall refresh their spirits above! But for whom is such happiness\nprepared? Not for the fearful and unbelieving, not for the selfish and\nself-willed, but for those who, like Gideon, have obeyed God\u2019s word and\nchosen His service, and rendered faithful obedience to Him whose mercy\nhath redeemed them. The Christian must not look for the victory without\nthe struggle, nor hope for peace while the smallest sin retains dominion\nwithin the soul; it is on the night of conflict that dawns the morn of\nsuccess; to God\u2019s faithful warriors, _faint, yet pursuing_, was given the\ntriumph of faith over Midian!\n\n\n\n\nThe A. L. O. E. Series.\n\nRICHLY ILLUSTRATED AND ELEGANTLY BOUND.\n\n\n_At Five Shillings each. Crown 8vo._\n\n    THE TRIUMPH OVER MIDIAN. With Twenty-eight Engravings.\n    RESCUED FROM EGYPT. With Twenty-seven Engravings.\n    THE SHEPHERD OF BETHLEHEM. With Forty Engravings.\n    EXILES IN BABYLON. With Thirty-four Engravings.\n    PRIDE AND HIS PRISONERS. With Forty Engravings.\n    HEBREW HEROES. With Thirty Engravings.\n\n_At Four Shillings and Sixpence each. Crown 8vo, gilt edges._\n\n    PRECEPTS IN PRACTICE. With Forty Engravings.\n    THE GIANT-KILLER. With Forty Engravings.\n    THE YOUNG PILGRIM. With Twenty-seven Engravings.\n    FAIRY KNOW-A-BIT. 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