{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_69973/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_69973","id":"gutenberg_69973","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69973","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christian fiction, American","Christian life -- Fiction","Country life -- Fiction","Invalids -- Fiction","Rural churches -- Fiction"],"text":"[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE.  Page 83.]\n\n\nINGLESIDE;\nOR\nWITHOUT CHRIST AND WITH HIM.\n\nBY\nMADELINE LESLIE,\n\nAUTHOR OF \"TIM THE SCISSORS-GRINDER,\"\n\"SISTERS AT SERVICE,\"\n\"THE HOME SERIES,\" ETC., ETC.\n\n\n\"To be in Christ is the secret of our life; to be for Christ,\nthe meaning of our activity; to be with Christ is the hope\nof our glory.\"                    Anthony W. Thorold.\n\nSECOND EDITION.\n\nLondon:\nHODDER AND STOUGHTON,\n27, PATERNOSTER ROW.\nMDCCCI.XXXVIII.\n\nPrinted by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury\u2022\n\n\nPREFATORY NOTE.\n\nThe object of this book is to prove, from a series of scenes drawn\nfrom real life, the misery of those, whether rich or poor, who live\nwithout Christ, and the peace and comfort of those in whom the spirit\nof Christ dwells as actuating principles of duty.\n\nThe scenes were selected by the author from a number, either falling\nunder her own observation, or narrated by friends who vouched for\ntheir truthfulness. They are not the most wonderful thus brought to\nher notice, but were chosen because they more plainly prove the\nobject referred to.\n\nThe devotion of time and money, by a young lady described here under\nthe name of Marion Howard, is not fiction. The eccentricities of\nMr. Regy, the sorrows of poor Esther, are facts. The singular\ncircumstances connected with the brother and sister from a foreign\nland, inmates at the same time of the Home for the Sick, though\nunknown to each other, were given to the public at the time, and\nexcited great interest for the unfortunate strangers. Indeed, were\nwe privileged to read the record of cases in our hospitals, or the\ndiary of our missionaries among the poor and distressed, we should\nfind that in our very midst scenes so wonderful are occurring that\nfiction is left far in the background.\n\nMy little book is sent forth on the same mission as one of its\npredecessors, \"Tim the Scissors-Grinder.\" That it may meet with the\nsame success in winning souls for the Master is the earnest prayer of\n\nTHE AUTHOR.\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS.\n\n\nPART I.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nI.     THE FIRST SERMON\nII.    THE NEW PASTOR\nIII.   THE HOME FOR THE SICK\nIV.    ETHEL AND HER PASTOR\nV.     A HAPPY CHRISTIAN\nVI.    THE MUSIC TEACHER\nVII.   GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS\nVIII.  PLEASANT PROJECTS\nIX.    THE DOCTOR'S DIAGNOSIS\nX.     A RAY OF HOPE\nXI.    AN APPEAL FOR SYMPATHY\nXII.   MARION'S SICKNESS\nXIII.  ANNIE'S LETTER\nXIV.   THE LOST PACKAGE\nXV.    A SAD STORY\nXVI.   STELLA'S CONFESSION\nXVII.  THE CRIPPLED BOY\nXVIII. A MYSTERY SOLVED\nXIX.   TEARS OF REPENTANCE\nXX.    LETTERS FROM THE PASTOR\n\n\nPART II.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nI.     GRANTBURY AND THE FIRST CHURCH\nII.    VISIT TO INGLESIDE\nIII.   WITHOUT CHRIST\nIV.    WITH CHRIST\nV.     HOME IN THE STABLE LOFT\nVI.    THE SIMPLE PRAYER\nVII.   ESTHER'S FORGIVENESS\nVIII.  GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS\nIX.    TRUE FRIENDSHIP\nX.     NEDDY CARTER'S MISSION\nXI.    MANY BLESSINGS\nXII.   A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY\nXIII.  RECONCILIATION AND HAPPINESS\nXIV.   CHRISTMAS DAY\nXV.    OUR INGLESIDE\n\n\n\nINGLESIDE.\n\nPART I.\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE FIRST SERMON.\n\n\"WELL! well!\" exclaimed Mr. Asbury, after a preliminary \"Hem!\"\n\n\"I know what you would say, pa,\" interrupted Mrs. Asbury, in a\ndeprecating tone. \"But it isn't fair to judge so soon. It's a trying\nsituation for a young clergyman. If it was our Gardner, now, we\nshould want people to remember that it isn't easy to stand up before\nstrangers and preach one's first sermon.\"\n\n\"I shan't be a minister, ma; I've made up my mind on that.\" Joe\nlooked at his sister, who generally was not backward in expressing an\nopinion. Now she only said, as though speaking to herself, \"I wonder\nwhat Marion would say.\"\n\nThe family had just returned from morning service, where the new\npastor for the first time had met the people. Aunt Thankful, as she\nwas called, had taken off her bonnet and shawl, folding the latter\ncarefully in the creases; now, with a peremptory wave of her hand to\nenjoin silence, she said,\u2014\n\n\"There's either sorrer or there's sin behind him. I'm inclined to\nthink it's sorrer.  It's Scripter, you know, to let charity have its\nperfect work.\"\n\nThe door-bell at this moment ringing, Aunt Thankful, who was passing\nSunday with her friends, seized her bonnet and shawl and left the\nroom. Annie started for the door, to answer the summons, while Joe\nopened his library book and began to read.\n\nThe sound of a manly but nervous step in the chamber above called\nforth a sigh from Mr. Asbury, followed by the words,\u2014\n\n\"I'm dreadfully afraid, wife, we've made a mistake.\"\n\n\"Don't look so melancholy, pa,\" urged Annie, returning, \"or Mr. Angus\nwill think we are talking of him. He asked what time we dined, and\nsaid he would like to go to his chamber for a few minutes.\"\n\nWhile he paces back and forth in the apartment assigned him, I will\nexplain that the parish to which Mr. Asbury belonged had lost their\npastor by death six months before the opening of our story; that a\nsuccession of candidates had been heard, discussed, and dismissed;\nthat the people, wearied out by their own criticisms, were beginning\nto scatter; that at length they conceived the idea of sending a\nCommittee on an exploring tour, which Committee, going to hear a city\npreacher, heard in his place a young man lately graduated from the\ndivinity school; that they were so impressed with his heartiness in\nhis work they requested an introduction and invited him to add one\nmore to the number of competing candidates; that he politely but\nfirmly declined, not believing, this the proper method of obtaining a\nclergyman that, after making inquiries of his Professors and others,\nand receiving instructions to go forward from the church at home, the\nCommittee did proceed to call the Rev. Mr. Angus to be their pastor;\nthat, after several weeks of earnest prayer for guidance, he did\naccept their call, the public services of his ordination to take\nplace the week following his first sermon.\n\nHis arrival in the town, which I shall call Grantbury, late on\nSaturday evening, had given the family little opportunity for forming\nan opinion of the new pastor; that he was tall and vigorous in frame,\nwith a countenance sad rather than smiling, eyes looking far away, a\nsweet, musical voice with a sad note running through it, was all that\nthey knew of him until they took their seats in church directly in\nfront of the pulpit. The sermon was on Christ's invitation to the\nweary and heavy laden to come to him for rest. In the most graphic\nlanguage he depicted the condition of these poor, sad, weary\nsufferers, bearing their heavy burden of sin and sorrow, longing to\nbe rid of it, but knowing not how to throw it off, groaning in secret\nplaces, with an abiding dread of what the future might bring to them.\nHe brought tears to many eyes unused to weep, by the vividness with\nwhich he portrayed the soul in darkness, but longing fox the light,\nempty, void of faith in God or man, shut up in a prison of gloomy\nthought and forebodings, every day verging toward the frightful chasm\nof despair.\n\nListening to the preacher's voice trembling with pathos, no one could\ndoubt that he well understood by personal experience the condition of\nthose to whom our blessed Lord extended this gracious invitation.\nEvery eye was fixed on his, every heart followed him; but when,\nturning from the weary and heavy laden, he pointed to the One who\ncould deliver them from all their wretchedness, the note of sadness\nstill lingered. Instead of the triumphant ring of victory from the\nfreed soul, the tone of peace and rest from those delivered from\ntheir heavy load, there was an unexplained want of harmony between\nthe manner and voice of the speaker and the subject of which he was\ntreating. A general restlessness among the audience proved their\ndisappointment.\n\nThe sermon closed with a passionate appeal to all present to accept\nChrist's offer of pardon, peace, and rest. The people rose to receive\nthe benediction, half wondering at the sadness which oppressed them.\nUnder other circumstances they would have crowded around the new\npastor, offering their hands in token of their welcome. They had\nbeen prepared to receive him with enthusiasm. The weeks of suspense\nduring which they were waiting his reply to their call had deepened\ntheir anxiety to obtain the services of one so highly recommended,\nbut a weight had fallen on their spirits, and they silently left the\nchurch, a few casting glances back to the pulpit, where sat a\nfigure prone and abject, the face buried in the hands.\n\nSo it happened that only the Committee who had heard him in the city\nwaited to speak to him, and at length accompanied him, almost in\nsilence, to the house of Mr. Asbury, where he was to remain until\nafter his ordination.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE NEW PASTOR.\n\nIN the mean time, in the spacious chamber assigned to the clergyman,\na terrible conflict was raging. Possessed of the keenest\nsusceptibilities, with a morbid sense of his own unworthiness,\nhe was, alas, too well aware of the impression left upon his hearers\nby his morning's discourse.\n\n\"God forgive me!\" he ejaculated, his hands pressed to his head.\n\"Deliver me from this terrible burden. Make known to me thy will.\nThou knowest my heart. I thought I heard thy voice. Show me the way\nin which I should walk. How can I, laden with sorrow, stand in God's\nstead and preach the gospel of salvation? Make haste to help me,\nO Lord! All my trust is in thee.\"\n\nA light tap at his door disturbed his meditations. He presented\nto Annie a face so pallid and suffering that she started back,\nexclaiming,\u2014\n\n\"You are ill, Mr. Angus: let me call mother.\"\n\n\"Oh no! I am not ill,\u2014I mean not much. Certainly, I have a\nheadache.\"\n\n\"I came to say that dinner is ready. Mother will give you something\nfor your head.\"\n\n\"Thank you. I will be down-stairs directly.\"\n\nHe turned to his washstand and dashed cold water on his burning\nforehead, then, crushing back the wretched doubts and fears which\nhad oppressed him, he presented himself in the parlor.\n\nHis pallid countenance confirmed Annie's statement of his illness.\nMrs. Asbury, with true motherly kindness, ordered a cup of coffee\nwith out milk or sugar, but postponed an examination of the case\nuntil a more fitting opportunity.\n\nSeated opposite Mr. Angus at the table was fairy little figure,\nintroduced to him as \"Our baby Ethel.\" She had large gray eyes shaded\nand deepened by long, black lashes. Raising her eyes timidly at\nfirst, she glanced at the stranger, gave a little start at the\nexpression which beamed in his face, then her whole countenance\u2014eyes,\ncheeks, and lips\u2014grew radiant and, to the utter astonishment\nof all present, the shy, timid little one, whose caresses were so\ndaintily given, so highly prized, exclaimed,\u2014\n\n\"I love you!\"\n\n\"Why, Ethel!\" began her father. \"Why, Baby!\" repeated the mother;\nbut Annie, catching a glimpse of intense, yearning love in the face\nof the clergyman, wondered in silence.\n\nAfter dinner, one look of entreaty brought the little miss to the\nclergyman,\u2014no longer a stranger,\u2014when, to the undisguised\nastonishment of her parents, she allowed herself to be folded in his\narms, her long flaxen curls floating over his breast. Nestling close\nto his side, with her eyes uplifted to his, she remained, quietly\nlistening to the conversation which followed, rewarded occasionally\nby a smile so sweet, so full of tender yearning, that not only the\nchild's but the mother's heart was wholly won.\n\nMr. Asbury had asked some questions concerning Mr. Angus's mission\nwork in the city, and then said to his wife,\u2014\n\n\"Marion will like to hear about this: she loves such work.\"\n\n\"She is a real missionary herself,\" urged Annie.\n\n\"I love Marion,\" lisped the child. \"She is my Marion.\"\n\n\"Is she your daughter, Mr. Asbury?\"\n\n\"Not exactly,\" laughing, \"though she is as near as a daughter. She is\nthe daughter of Mrs. Asbury's cousin, now deceased. Indeed she has\nlost both her parents, and we have adopted her. She calls us uncle\nand aunt.\"\n\n\"I want Marion to come home quick, pa.\" Then, turning again to look\nin the face above her, Ethel said, \"I'll let my Marion love you too.\"\n\n\"A great piece of condescension on Ethel's part, Mr. Angus,\" added\nthe mother, laughing heartily. \"The little puss is extremely jealous\nin her affection for Marion, and scarce allows her cousin out of her\nsight for a moment when she is at home.\"\n\n\"Does your niece not live at home, then?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, sir. She teaches music in Madame La Vergnes's Institute\nin New York; but, as her classes only occupy six hours a day, she has\nabundant time for her poor people.\"\n\n\"It is against my wish,\" urged her uncle, \"that she should stay away\nfrom home for so many months in a year.\"\n\n\"But not contrary to your consent, pa,\" explained Annie. \"You told\nher you wouldn't forbid it. So, Mr. Angus,\" she added, blushing at\nher own earnestness, \"you musn't think our Marion naughty or\nobstinate. It was her duty she said, and so she went.\"\n\n\"Ethel, I fear you will tire Mr. Angus, sitting in his lap so long.\"\n\nHe pressed her tightly in his arms and waited to hear what she would\nsay.\n\n\"He's skeezing me, ma. I guess he isn't tired. Are you?\" putting her\nhand softly on his cheek.\n\nHe took the small hand in his, held it for a moment, asked, \"At what\ntime does your Sunday school commence?\" put her hand to his lips as\nhe said, rising, \"We are friends from this time, Ethel. Good by for\nan hour or two,\" and left the room.\n\n\"I like him ever so much,\" exclaimed Annie. \"Aren't you glad now,\npa, that he has come to be our minister?\"\n\nPerhaps Mr. Asbury would have answered still more warmly could he\nhave followed the pastor to his chamber and listened to the cry which\nwent up from a full heart.\n\n\"Is this a ray of light from thy throne, O my heavenly Father? May I\nnot accept it as an answer to prayer for help,\u2014as a token of thy\nloving care? O God, I bless thee!\"\n\nMaking his way from his chamber, he saw Ethel sitting on the lower\nstair waiting for him.\n\n\"You may kiss me if you want to,\" she said, putting up her rosy lips.\n\nHe caught her in his arms, kissed her again, the mother coming\nforward just in time to hear him say, \"God bless you, precious\nchild!\"\n\nHow warm his heart felt with this new glow. With his whole soul he\nreceived the loving confidence of this little one as a token of\ndivine favor. God had accepted him and would bless his work among\nthese people.\n\nArriving at the chapel, the superintendent of the school came forward\nto meet him, with the request that, in the place of the usual\nexercises, he would address them. But Mr. Angus requested to be\nallowed to watch the workings of the school consenting, however, to\ntalk to them at the end.\n\n\"Is this your usual number?\" he inquired, glancing over the room.\n\n\"Yes sir, about the average.\"\n\n\"Are they punctual in their attendance,\u2014teachers and scholars?\"\n\n\"No, sir; that is one great drawback to success.\"\n\n\"Do these children not go to church? I saw few children there.\"\n\n\"No, sir; they seldom go.\"\n\nDeclining a seat on the platform, Mr. Angus drew an arm-chair near\nthe Bible class and waited for the superintendent to call the school\nto order. The gong sounded, but the noise did not decrease. The\nsecond time, with the aid of the teachers, the loud whispering\nabated, when, in a low voice, impossible to be heard at the farther\nend of the room, the superintendent offered prayer. A hymn was given\nout, and all looked around for the lady who usually played the\nmelodeon. She was absent, and at last, just as the singing was to be\nomitted, Annie Asbury came forward blushing, and said, \"I will try\nto play.\"\n\nMr. Angus was afflicted with a keen ear for discords. I can only say\nthat during the singing he was agonized. Before the closing exercises\nhe had made up his mind that here at least there was work for the\npastor. The apathy was alarming. With few exceptions, the teachers\nhurried through the lesson, accepting without reproof the too\nevidently manufactured excuses in place of a well-learned lesson;\nthen shutting the book, he or she became totally oblivious of all\nthat was passing, some even leaving the class to talk with another\nteacher.\n\nThat was a face thoroughly in earnest which confronted the school\nwhen the superintendent announced that \"Rev. Mr. Angus, our pastor,\nwill address you.\"\n\nIn a full, impressive voice the clergyman began.\n\n\"Boys and girls,\u2014yes, and teachers too,\u2014we are strangers to-day,\nbut we shall not continue so. I have a good memory for names and\nfaces. I intend to know you all, every one. I have come here to be\none of you, to love you, and I hope to be loved in return.\nMy business is to lead every one in this room to the arms of the\nblessed Saviour, and I ask you all to help me. As many as are\nwilling, I ask to come after school and give me your hand in token\nof your acceptance of this contract. Until we meet again next\nSunday, I ask you to consider seriously a few questions. You can\ngive your answers in writing if you please. I shall like that best;\nor you may come to me,\u2014not in classes, but individually, and\nanswer them.\n\n\"First. What do I come to Sunday school for,\u2014to please God, or to\nplease my parents, or to please myself?\"\n\n\"Second. Does my coming just as I have been used to coming please\nGod,\u2014does it please my parents,\u2014does it please me?\"\n\n\"Third. If I neither please God, my parents, nor myself, in what way\ncan I change my actions to do so?\"\n\n\"Now, with the permission of your superintendent, I will ask you to\nrise and join me in one verse.\n\n\"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;\nPraise Him, all creatures here below;\nPraise Him above, ye heavenly host;\nPraise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.\"\n\n\"Remember God is here: let us not mock Him; now begin.\" His voice was\na deep, rich baritone, which resounded through the chapel, carrying\nthe scholars and teachers with him. At the close, he stood with his\nhand extended toward a little girl near him. Boys and girls pressed\nforward, each one giving his own name, until only the teachers\nremained. To these, as they gathered around him, he said,\u2014\n\n\"Will it be too much for me to ask that each one of you will ponder\nthe questions I gave you? The work of a Sunday-school teacher may be\nwearisome and unpleasant, or it may be glorious, most blessed. It is\nGod's own work; and He is a good paymaster.\"\n\nAnnie persuaded her brother to wait for Mr. Angus, but hesitated\nabout joining him when she saw how sad he looked. With a frankness\nwhich was her peculiar charm she said, timidly,\u2014\n\n\"We waited to walk home with you, but perhaps you would rather go\nalone.\"\n\n\"Thank you, yes.\" Then, rousing himself, he added, \"You are very\nkind. I shall be glad of your company.\"\n\nIt was true that in the excitement of the past hour his own personal\ngrief had been absorbed in the sorrow he felt at finding the Sunday\nschool in such a low condition. He began to realize that this was the\nkeynote by which he must judge of the spiritual state of the church.\nThen doubts of his fitness for the work assailed him, and he was\nappalled with the reflection that it was too late now to recede.\nIt was at this minute that Annie met him. He would have given much\nto be alone, to fight his battle unobserved; but no, it was better\nthat he should not dwell on such painful, unavailing thoughts.\n\nAnnie glanced at him occasionally, as with knitted brows he hurried\nforward, but did not speak until he was about to turn the wrong way.\n\n\"This is our street, Mr. Angus,\" she said.\n\n\"Pardon me, Annie, I am usually quick at finding my way, but\u2014I am\nthinking about your Sunday school. Were the children more inattentive\nto-day than usual?\"\n\n\"No, sir. Marion goes wild about it. She thinks everything in it is\nhorrid. I heard her talking to the superintendent; she told him the\nmode of teaching, the want of order, the singing, were all as bad as\ncould be; but Marion is a singer, you know.\"\n\n\"How long has this gentleman been superintendent?\"\n\n\"Only a few weeks. They tried one and another, but nobody would take\nit. Marion said Mr. Molton only accepted because he was too\ngood-natured to say 'I won't,' as the others did.\"\n\nAt the close of the evening service the congregation were not a\nlittle astonished by the request to remain in their seats for a few\nminutes after the benediction had been pronounced, nor was the\nastonishment abated when the young pastor elect began to address\nthem. It was as well for them to know it now as any time. He never\nmade any unnecessary preliminary remarks; he made a fierce dash at\nany subject and done with it.\n\nEvery eye was fixed on him when he began.\n\n\"Owing to my peculiar views as to the dignity of the office of an\nambassador of Christ, I declined to come among you as a candidate for\nyour favor. I knew nothing of the state of your church and society. I\nhad no experience to guide me, except that derived from my mission\nwork among the poorest of the poor,\u2014among those so eager for the\nbread of life that it was a glorious privilege to break it for them.\nI find your church large in numbers; I\u2014yes I must say it\u2014I am\nappalled, I am young. It is not yet too late for you to relieve me\nfrom the responsibilities which may prove too much for me.\"\n\nHis head sank on his breast as a murmur, \"No! no! We want you,\"\nran through the audience. His voice trembled with emotion as, after a\nbrief pause, he spoke again. \"God's will be done; there is a great\nwork to do here. We must begin with the Sunday school. The help of\nevery father and mother and child is necessary. Above all, we must\nearnestly besiege the throne of grace for divine help. Brethren and\nsisters, pray for each other and pray for your pastor, for his\nguidance; that he may be holy, humble, earnest, and hopeful in his\nwork of winning souls for the Master.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE HOME FOR THE SICK.\n\nIN one of the main avenues in a large city stands a spacious building\nenclosed in garden. The edifice and its ornamental surroundings\noccupy an entire square. Lofty trees and low shrubs, parterres of\nflowers, picturesque arbors with rustic seats, gravelled walks\nwinding in and out among the blossoms, prove to the passer-by that\nthis is truly what the name indicates,\u2014a \"Home for the Sick.\"\n\nA Russian nobleman, after a thorough examination of the building\nitself, its lofty ceilings and thorough ventilation, its conveniences\nfor heating and cooking, its laundry department, its beautiful, sunny\nwards, with the well-trained nurses moving quietly from cot to cot\nfor the relief of the sufferers, was asked,\u2014\n\n\"What do you think of our hospital?\"\n\nWith a burst of enthusiasm he exclaimed, \"It isn't a hospital, it is\na palace where the king receives his guests and takes care of them.\"\n\nAt this moment a carriage is drawn up before the principal entrance\nand a young woman is assisted to alight. Presently two men approach\nwith a chair, in which she is seated, a young lady who has\naccompanied her walking by her side.\n\nThis is not her first visit to the hospital. For months together she\nlay prostrate, struggling for life, going away at last, not strong,\ncertainly, but with a prospect of perfect recovery. Now she knew she\nhad come home to die. Yes, it was home in the truest and sweetest\nsense of the word, for here she had been born of the Spirit.\nOld things had passed away and all things had become new. Here she\nhad joined herself to the people of God, confessing Jesus Christ to\nbe her only hope for pardon and peace. She no longer shuddered at the\napproach of the grim messenger; she was ready to welcome him whenever\nher Saviour called her to his immediate presence.\n\nShe was placed in her old bed, endeared by so many precious memories,\nwhere she could see the setting sun, and by his resplendent glories\nbe reminded of the Sun of Righteousness in whose effulgent beams her\nsoul would bask for ever and ever.\n\nOh, no! there was no terror in the thought of death; the language of\nher heart was, \"Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.\"\n\nAs she lay reposing on her spotless couch, her cheek rivalling the\nwhiteness of her pillow, she clasped her hands, exclaiming,\u2014\n\n\"How good God is! Think of my being allowed to come home, to have my\nown bed! You were so thoughtful, dear friend, to ask for that favor.\nThis room has been like heaven to me. I am afraid I ought not to be\nso happy.\"\n\nShe glanced wistfully in her companion's face, who understood the\nappeal and answered, warmly,\n\n\"God has forgiven the past, dear. We are told to 'forget the things\nthat are behind, and press forward.' You have given that burden to\nthe Saviour; don't take it back again: it shows distrust of His\nloving care for those you have committed to Him.\"\n\n\"If I could only know before I die that he is safe\u2014I mean that he\nhas accepted Christ,\u2014I would ask no more. Poverty, even want,\nI do not care for.  Poverty brought me here, where I found my\nprecious, waiting Saviour; but oh, if I could know that in his\nwanderings God's spirit has led him into the truth, how I would\npraise His name to all eternity!\"\n\nAn expression of holy rapture beamed from every feature. Her friend\ngazed with glistening eyes. Softly laying her hand on the head of the\ndying girl, she repeated the words, \"who giveth us the victory\nthrough our Lord Jesus Christ.\" Rising, she pressed her lips to the\nforehead of the sufferer, whispered, \"I shall come again tomorrow,\"\nand left the room.\n\nIn the morning Stella found herself so much refreshed by sleep that\nwhen the chaplain came into the ward she requested the privilege of\nhaving private communion administered to her.\n\nThis gentleman, Rev. Mr. Owen, was not a stranger to her. It was his\nfaithful words which had cut so deep into her heart that for weeks\nher soul writhed with self-inflicted torture. It was a sermon he\npreached one Sunday when she was in the chapel which brought her to\nthe feet of Jesus, clothed and in her right mind. The text was this,\n\"If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also\nforgive you; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will\nyour Father forgive your trespasses.\" How quickly the gracious\npromise had been fulfilled in her case! Her heart, which had hardened\nto flint while cherishing anger toward one whom she believed had\ninjured her, grew tender and loving under the softening influence of\nthe spirit of forgiveness. No sooner did she cast away the vile\nserpent which had coiled itself so closely around her vitals as to\ncrush out every vestige of affection, than the dove of peace flew\ndown and nestled in her bosom.\n\nTo the chaplain Stella had related some facts in the history of her\nearly life, with a mere hint at some events which had blasted her\nhappiness. Only to the loved and trusted friend of her own age,\none who had secured a place for her in this happy home, and brought\nher hither, had she confessed that her own temper, jealousy, and\ndistrust had greatly aggravated her sufferings. Mr. Owen knew enough\nto understand that, whatever the past had been, she was now\nrepentant, that she had listened to the invitation, \"Come unto me all\nye that are weary and heavy laden,\" and that Jesus Christ had given\nher rest.\n\nIn an interview with the chaplain preparatory to her receiving the\nprecious memorials of Christ's love, she once more announced her\nfaith in Christ as her only hope for a poor sinner like herself, and\nher belief that He would answer her prayers for one long lost to her,\nthat, if he were still living, he would be brought to love her\nSaviour, and to forgive her, as she had, from the heart, forgiven\nhim.\n\nThe effect of this service was so refreshing that for several days\nshe was quite free from the extreme suffering for breath which had so\nexhausted her. According to her request, her friend, in one of her\ndaily calls, had brought her paper and pens, and, bolstered up in\nbed, she spent nearly an hour every day in writing.\n\nThe end came at last unexpectedly. She was sitting nearly upright\nlistening to the last chapters in the Revelation, when, with a wave\nof her hand to stop the reading, she repeated in a full voice the\nwords just read: \"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes;\nand there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying; neither\nshall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away.\"\n\nShe paused, raised her eyes, a bright smile illumined her face;\nshe pointed upward, then with a little gasp her spirit fled away\nto the Saviour in whom she trusted.\n\nWaiting only to ask permission from the superintendent to pay all\nnecessary expenses, and to learn when the funeral services would be\nattended, her friend gazed for the last time on the marble\ncountenance, so peaceful in its calm repose, then, taking from the\nnurse a package directed to her care, passed quietly from the room.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nETHEL AND HER PASTOR.\n\nNOW that the ordination services had passed, the young clergyman\ngirded himself up for his work among his people. It was his chosen\nwork, and, could he have blotted a few pages from the book of his\npast life, he would have gone forward with hope as well as with\ncourage. During the few days preceding the ordination, he humbled\nhimself before God, asking help of the Divine Spirit to search out\nwhatever was wrong in his heart and help him to overcome in whatever\ntempted him. Still there was a kind of bewilderment in his mind,\na kind of waiting to see whether his Father in heaven, who knew every\nevent of his life, might not interpose even yet and by his providence\nsend him back to his work among the poor in the city.\n\nDuring these days the influence of the sweet child Ethel did much\nto quiet him and inspire him to more confidence in gaining the\naffection of his people. She used to fix her eyes so wistfully\non his, as she sat opposite him at table, watching and waiting\nfor the smile which now and then flitted across his features,\u2014\na smile not soon forgotten, so entirely did it change the whole\nexpression of his countenance. At his bidding she would come and\nnestle herself in his arms, never obtruding herself on his notice,\nbut quietly submitting to having her hand held tenderly and\noccasionally put to his lips.\n\nHer brother Joe, or Gardner, as his mother called him, was rather\na saucy boy, the only son, and of course a great pet. When he thought\nMr. Angus was out of the house, he would march up and down the long\nhall singing,\n\nOur pastor is a rare, rare man,\nHe sings so fine you cannot tell,\nHis smile is bright as bright can be,\nBut then he only smiles for Ethel.\n\n\"Look here, I'll tell you a secret,\" he said to Annie. \"My poetry\nwill be the making of me. I have succeeded so well in my first effort\nI intend to publish a book of poems, and I shall dedicate it to the\nRev. Harold Angus, who first inspired my muse. Isn't that the way\nthey put it?  I shall have, let me see, how many copies printed for\nprivate use, one for mother, Marion, and you,\"\u2014counting on his\nfingers\u2014\"one for Mr. Angus and Ethel, five, and I'll keep one for\nmyself.\"\n\nAnnie laughed heartily, as she said, \"If the rest is as fine as your\nfirst verse, no doubt there will be a great sale. I'm so glad\nMr. Angus is to live here.\"\n\n\"Only for the present. He said he wouldn't ask more, and then he\nwhispered baby to plead for him. Wasn't it funny how seriously the\nlittle puss took it? When she found there was even a possibility of\nhis going away, she walked right up to pa and said,\"\u2014\n\n\"'Do you want your little girl to go way off?'\"\n\n\"'No, puss, what do you mean?'\"\n\n\"'Why, you know if Mr. Angus goes I shall have to go. He can't go\nalone, and he hasn't any little girl but me.'\"\n\n\"'In that case,' pa said, 'the matter is soon settled; pa can't spare\nhis baby any way.'\"\n\nIn a few weeks the Sunday school was completely reorganized.\nEvery teacher was obliged to be present at the teachers' meeting\non Saturday afternoon, to be promptly in her or his place every\nSunday; or, if unable to do so, to send a substitute. A Bible class\nfor adults had beer formed, taught by the pastor, and this soon\noutgrew the accommodations in the Sunday-school room, and had\nto adjourn into the church.\n\nHere more than anywhere else Mr. Angus felt at home. If it were\na mistake for one with a past like his to stand up in God's place,\nit certainly was right for him to help others to study God's word,\nand so to study it that the effect on their lives might be for the\nhonor of Christ.\n\nHonestly and truly, he did try to throw off the burden which often\nweighed his spirits to the earth, and yet there were hours when the\nagony of his mind was almost more than he could bear, when he could\nonly cry,\u2014\n\n\"Dear Lord, Thou knowest all. Put Thine almighty arm around me.\nHear my prayers and grant me relief. Visit not, O Lord, upon others\nthe chastening for my deserts. Save me, and I will praise Thy name\nfor ever and ever.\"\n\nDay by day he buried himself in study or in visits among his people,\nJoe frequently conveying him to the outskirts of the parish in his\nfather's buggy.\n\nOne afternoon he had been alone to a distant part of the town, and\nwas returning, when he stopped at a small thread and needle store\nto purchase a pair of gloves. Behind the counter was a young girl\nwho attracted his attention by a peculiarly merry expression.\nThe color deepened in her cheeks as she took down box after box,\nsearching for the right number, and at last she asked him to excuse\nher ignorance, as she was only a new hand.\n\n\"This pair seems to be very elastic,\" she said, striving in vain\nto control the muscles of her face, which, in spite of her efforts,\ndimpled and beamed in the most mirth-provoking manner. She stretched\nthe kid across the back of the glove, and held it out to him, when he\nput out his hand for her to measure it. He could scarcely help\nnoticing that the fingers of the shop girl were beautifully tapering,\nand that her one ring, though not a diamond, was large and costly.\n\nJust as he was paying for the gloves, a woman, fat and rosy, came\nbustling in, exclaiming, as she saw what was passing,\u2014\n\n\"Well, I never did! Why, Miss\u2014\"\n\nShe checked herself suddenly, warned by a glance from the young lady.\n\nThe clergyman had scarcely reached the street when he heard the\nwoman's voice saying,\u2014\n\n\"That's the new parson. Folks like him, mostly, though they do say\nhe's kind o' stiff and proud.\"\n\nThe reflections caused by these words were not pleasant. It was\npossible that when his thoughts were dwelling on his own painful\nexperience his manner might be reticent. \"If they consider me proud,\"\nwas his reflection, \"how little they know me! Why, I would exchange\ngladly with those rough boys playing ball yonder, if by doing so I\nwould get rid of these harrowing memories. Well, I owe my thanks to\nthe woman, though I suppose she scarcely intended that I should hear\nher criticisms.\"\n\nThen he began to wonder who the shop girl could be. She was so\nevidently out of place there; and what caused her mirth? Alone as he\nwas, he laughed heartily as he recalled the dimpled curves around\nthat arch mouth, and wondered whether there had been any reason\npersonal to himself which brought these dimples into such full play.\n\nLetting himself into the house by his night-key, he went directly\nto his chamber, where he remained until summoned by the bell to the\ntea-table. Ethel, at sound of his step, rushed to the door to meet\nhim, her voice ringing joyously as she exclaimed,\u2014\n\n\"My Marion has come! I'll show her to you.\"\n\nPulling him eagerly forward, she brought him face to face again with\u2014\nthe shop girl; stood for an instant gazing at them, then, in the\nfulness of her content, and wishing to give one grand proof of her\nlove, she added,\u2014\n\n\"I'll let you kiss her if you want to.\"\n\nA burst of laughter followed, during which Mr. Angus had time to\ncatch the little girl in his arms and whisper something in her ear,\nMarion, meanwhile, growing very rosy as she waited for a formal\nintroduction from her uncle.\n\n\"My niece, Miss Howard, Rev. Mr. Angus, our pastor.\"\n\nThe gentleman cordially extended his hand. Their eyes met and they\nboth laughed.\n\nAfter they were seated at the table, Marion, who was sitting next her\nuncle and opposite the clergyman, with a merry glance in his\ndirection, explained:\u2014\n\n\"I have met Mr. Angus before.\"\n\n\"Where did you meet him? In the city?\"\n\n\"I had the pleasure of purchasing a pair of gloves from the store\nwhere Miss Howard is employed. I have tried on the gloves since,\"\nhe added, glancing archly in her blushing face, \"and I assure you\nthey fit extremely well.\"\n\nMarion threw back her head and laughed heartily, and as mirth is more\ncontagious than any fever, all present joined in the mirth, though\nthere were loud calls for an explanation.\n\n\"It is only,\" she said, \"that I called on my way from the depot\nto see Mary Falkner, and as her mother was very busy, I offered\nto sit by Mary's bed while she finished her washing. Some one came\ninto the shop. Mrs. Falkner was in the clothes-yard, and did not\nhear, and I at last went forward, supposing, of course, that I should\nbe called on for a spool of thread or a paper of pins.\n\n\"I am sorry, sir, that I could not serve you better, but under the\ncircumstances I did as well as I knew how. But I am forgetting my\nerrand to you. I charged you too much for the gloves, and\nMrs. Falkner trusted me with the change to be returned, which I now\nmake over to you\"; passing twenty-five cents in silver across the\ntable.\n\n\"I shall take an early opportunity to show my appreciation of\nMrs. Falkner's fair dealing,\" responded Mr. Angus, smiling, as he put\nthe silver in his pocket. But with an instant change in his tone,\n\"Who is this Mary Falkner? Does she belong to my charge?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir; she is a poor cripple; so patient and cheerful, that it is\na lesson to see her. It almost brings tears to my eyes to hear her\ntalk of God's mercy to her, and how He inclines the hearts of people\nto supply her wants. Why, even the coming of customers to the store\nfor a few pennies' worth of thread is a subject for thankfulness.\"\n\n\"She is, indeed, to be envied. I regret that I have not seen her.\nSuch calls are needed by a pastor for his own good.\"\n\nMarion's beaming face bore witness to her approbation of this\nsentiment, as she remarked,\u2014\n\n\"There is no place in the parish where a visit from you would be more\nprized than in poor Mary's chamber.\"\n\nDear little Ethel, how hard it was for her, during the few days of\nMarion's visit, to divide her favors equally between her two friends.\nBy this time the friendship between her and her pastor had become\nvery close. In a small locker under his bookcase were some of her\nchoicest toys, brought hither from time to time; and with these she\nwould amuse herself so quietly that he almost forgot her presence.\nDuring his study hours he often rose from his books and paced the\nfloor while he arranged the topics of his sermons. One glance showed\nher he was busy, and she scarcely moved. Sometimes he seated himself\nin a large chair for the same purpose, when the little one,\nwatching every movement, obeyed the motion of his hand, and with\nher favorite dolly in her arms, silently crept to his lap, sitting so\nquiet that she often fell asleep.\n\nOnce her father, coming unexpectedly from his office to the house,\ninquired for her, and was told she was with Mr. Angus in his study.\nThe child heard his voice, and putting her little fat hand on her\nmouth to keep herself quiet, went softly from the room.\n\n\"I'm afraid you will disturb Mr. Angus,\" her father said. \"What do\nyou do in there?\"\n\n\"I keep stiller than a mouse, 'cause they nibble cheese and I don't,\nand I make sermons with Mr. Angus.\"\n\n\"Make sermons, eh?\" laughing; \"well, you'd better come with me and\nmake the horse go.\"\n\nNow if she obeyed Marion's invitation for a walk with her,\nshe watched anxiously for any marks of disapprobation from her other\nfriend, nor was she quite satisfied until she had made it clear\nto him that she loved him just the same, but that her Marion was only\ngoing to be with her a little while, and would feel badly if she did\nnot go for a walk.\n\nTo her cousin she also explained why she did not as heretofore devote\nherself entirely to her society.\n\n\"I have to take care of him, you know, because he has nobody but me.\nHe doesn't look as sorry as he did. It always makes me cry to see\ntears roll down his cheeks.\"\n\n\"Cry!\" repeated Marion, quite shocked.\n\n\"Yes; when we're praying to Jesus to make us good, he says we must\nalways tell Jesus when we have been naughty, and He will forgive us\nright off.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nA HAPPY CHRISTIAN.\n\nFROM the first Marion had been agreeably impressed with Mr. Angus;\nthough after hearing from Aunt Thankful of his first sermon and his\ncry for help after the evening service, agreed with her aged friend\nthat he must have known real sorrow; sorrow from the effects of which\nhe could not all at once rally. After hearing his prayers, it seemed\nto her impossible to believe that his sorrow was caused by any act of\nhis own. If so, she was certain that it had been heartily repented\nof. The scene so innocently referred to by Ethel took hold of her\nimagination. In the solitude of his chamber he knelt, his little pet\nby his side, her hand held fast in his, while tears ran down his\ncheeks, as he implored forgiveness for past offences. Do what she\nWould, she could not shake off the memories of this scene.\n\nMarion was young in years, only twenty-three her next birthday;\nbut her life had been an eventful one. Blessed with Christian\nparents, her opening mind eagerly imbibed the practical truths of\nthe Bible. Jesus Christ was embraced as her Saviour from sin in this\nlife, and from the punishment of sin in the life to come. God was\nto her a tender, loving Father, to whom she might go at any hour,\nwith the same freedom as she approached her earthly father.\nShe realized in an unusual manner His watchful providence, guiding\nand guarding her at every step of her young life. When at the age of\nseventeen she was bereft of both her earthly parents, she accepted\nin all their fulness the promises of God to the fatherless ones,\nand never had these gracious promises failed.\n\nHer education being incomplete, her guardian' sent her to New York\nCity to the care of her father's sister, an amiable but thoroughly\nworldly woman. Mrs. Williamson considered her duty accomplished when\nshe had seen her niece arrayed in the most becoming mourning attire,\nhad entered her at a fashionable institution, and introduced her to\nher own select circle.\n\nBut these surroundings, so unlike the quiet refinement of her own\nsweet home, instead of weaning the young orphan from the pure\npleasures of a Christian life, left her with such a yearning for the\nsociety of those who sympathized in her dearest joys that she\nresolved to spend more time than ever in communion with her Saviour.\nHappy indeed are those who, losing Christian companionship,\nare driven for comfort to Christ himself. His love can so fill\nthe soul thus depending on Him as to compensate for the loss\nof every earthly solace.\n\nMarion was allowed to choose her own church, and at once joined\na Bible class, where her hunger for instruction so animated her\nclassmates and so encouraged her teacher that the most happy results\nfollowed.\n\nDuring the hours in the day devoted to secular studies Marion worked\nwith all her might. She knew it to be right to do her very best,\nand even with the branches of exact science, which were irksome,\nshe conquered her reluctance and soon made her mark as a scholar\nof unusual ability.\n\nMusic was, however, her specialty. It was passion with her, and even\nbefore her parents' death, her skill as a pianist as well as her\npower with her voice distinguished her.\n\n\"How plainly I can see a Father's hand leading me all the way\nthrough!\" she used to say. \"He gave me the ability to sing, and when\nthe right time came He allowed me the privilege of using my voice for\nthe comfort of others.\"\n\nShe alluded to the fact of being invited by a gentleman connected\nwith her Sunday school to sing for the patients at the \"Home for the\nSick.\" In connection with this first visit she used to say,\u2014\n\n\"Never did I know such real happiness as when I found myself able\nto comfort those those poor, weary ones, Christ's own sufferers.\nWhen one woman, taking my hand, thanked me with moistened eyes for\nthe words of cheer, it was an impulse I could scarcely resist to fall\non my knees and thank her for letting me sing for her. 'You have\nlighted the path to the grave. I'm not afraid now,' gasped one whose\nwings were plumed for her flight.\n\n\"Oh!\" exclaimed Marion, clasping her hands to her breast as she\nrecalled the scene. \"Who am I, that I should be so blessed?\"\n\nDuring the summer months Mr. Williamson usually travelled with his\nfamily or passed the time at some fashionable resort, and it was his\nearnest wish that Marion should accompany them.\n\nBut after a week spent at a gay hotel she told her uncle she found it\nunendurable; and insisted on going alone, if he could not find an\nescort for her, to visit her Aunt Asbury. She arrived when the whole\nfamily were watching the fading away of a young life. Helen, the\noldest daughter, about whom so many hopes had clustered, the light of\nthe home, the pride of parents and friends, had received a summons to\nleave all that had hitherto been so dear and enter on the unknown,\u2014\nthe infinite. Shuddering with fear, she turned to her parents for\nhelp, but they could only weep and wring their hands. At length their\nclergyman was summoned, and from this hour his visits were frequent.\nThe knitted brow had given way to a calm seriousness, as with\ntrembling lips she said, \"I do believe Christ is my Saviour, and that\nHe will lead me safely home.\"\n\nHer parents, too, if not really submissive, were trying to say,\n\"Thy will be done.\"\n\nThe coming of Marion at such a crisis was indeed a blessing. Her very\nfirst words as she sat down by the bedside, after offering and\nreceiving a loving embrace, lit up the face of the dying girl with\na ray of Heaven's own light.\n\n\"O Helen, how I wish I could change places with you! Going home\nto Christ, to be with Him forever, to see the dear saints who have\ngone before, to talk to them of what Jesus has done for you, to sing\nwith them the new song, 'Worthy the Lamb,' to sit down by the beloved\nJohn, to see Peter and hear him repeat the story of his grief at the\ndenial of his Lord, to talk with Moses and Joseph and Samuel,\nto think that you will be forever free from the struggles with sin,\nthat you will be holy as He is holy. Dear Helen, you are indeed to be\nenvied.\"\n\n\"Yes, I can thank God now.\" Helen's smile was radiant.\n\nTears were streaming down Mrs. Asbury's cheeks, but wholly\nunconscious of them, the lady rose and kissed Marion, saying\nsoftly,\u2014\n\n\"Thank God you have come! Your visit will do us all good.\"\n\nMr. Asbury had not known much of his niece, though he was one of her\nguardians. He watched her closely, trying to account for the change\nin his household. Every day rendered it more certain that a grim\nmessenger was hovering about, waiting for an opportunity to enter,\nbut his approach was no longer dreaded. The chamber where the patient\nsufferer lay seemed the brightest in the house. Marion, who had\nconstituted herself chief nurse, went in and came out with a smile.\nHer voice was often heard singing there, not sad, pensive strains,\nbut notes with a ring of triumph. The names of our blessed Lord,\nJesus, Immanuel, Saviour, were constantly repeated, and dwelt on\nlovingly. The very words seemed to give strength, even in the\nlingering echoes.\n\nOn one occasion, Mr. Asbury, too anxious to remain long absent from\nthe house, quietly entered the chamber just as Marion began\na familiar hymn. He had often heard it before, but never with such\na thrill as now. Even the dying girl was joining in the singing.\n\n\"How sweet the name of Jesus sounds\nIn a believer's ear,\nIt soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,\nAnd drives away his fear.\n\n\"It makes the wounded spirit whole,\nAnd calms the troubled breast;\n'Tis manna to the hungry soul,\nAnd to the weary, rest.\n\n\"Weak is the effort of my heart,\nAnd cold my warmest thought;\nBut when I see Thee as Thou art,\nI'll praise Thee as I ought.\n\n\"Till then I would Thy love proclaim\nWith every fleeting breath;\nAnd may the music of Thy name\nRefresh my soul in death.\"\n\nGazing into that rapt face, so elevated above all the pains and\nsorrows of earth, the father could not doubt that the prayer in these\nlast lines was answered. The soul was refreshed, invigorated, and\nmade infinitely blessed by the music of that precious name. A prayer\nrose to Heaven from one hitherto unused to prayer, \"Breathe, O Lord,\ninto my soul such love for Thee as may fill my heart with peace and\njoy when I go down to the dark valley.\"\n\nThe end came at last, suddenly, though long looked for. The messenger\nwas not unwelcome. He was greeted with a smile so sweet, so rapt,\nthat all gazed in wonder. Calmly the dying girl put her hand in his,\nwhile Marion in a clear voice repeated the inspired words, \"'Though I\nwalk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil;\nfor Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.'\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE MUSIC TEACHER.\n\nTHE triumphant death of the eldest daughter was followed by marked\nreligious improvement in the family. Both Mr. and Mrs. Asbury\npublicly confessed their faith in Christ. The family altar was\nerected with this inscription, \"As for me and my house, we will serve\nthe Lord.\"\n\nMarion, too, received a new impetus in her chosen work,\u2014the work of\na soul-winner.\n\n\"I want to be a missionary,\" was her reply to her uncle, when he was\nurging her to remain permanently in his family. \"I have already begun\nto make many projects for the poor in New York City.\"\n\n\"But, Marion, you are too young, too attractive, to go alone among\nthe poor.\"\n\n\"Don't say too attractive, uncle. I want to be as attractive as\npossible. Understand me,\" she added, laughing, with a visible\nheightening of color, \"I want to be loved and trusted; and I thank\nGod that I am\u2014am not repulsive in appearance. Too young I certainly\nam to go alone; and that is why I have kept dear old Hepsey.\nAunty thinks me obstinate, incorrigible, because I don't dismiss the\npoor old creature, as she calls her, and have a fashionable French\nmaid. Dear aunty! I'm afraid she would think me a fit subject for the\nlunatic asylum if she knew where Hepsey and I go.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid, Marion, that I shall have to agree with Mrs. Williamson\nthat you are a little wilful. Put yourself in my place, and ask\nyourself whether it would be right for me to consent to your going\ninto those infected regions in New York. You might catch small-pox,\nor cholera, or something dreadful.\"\n\nShe caught his arm, and gave it a loving squeeze, then with an arch\nglance in his face, exclaimed, \"You ought to praise me for telling\nyou all this. I have never told Uncle nor Aunt Williamson.\nBut seriously, uncle, I haven't a particle of fear. The sanitary\narrangements in a city like New York are excellent. I love life too\nwell, and I have too great a work in it to put myself in danger.\nBesides, I have the earnest approval of dear Helen. I talked with her\nmore freely than I ever did with any one, and she, standing on the\nborder land between this life and the next, with Heaven's own light\non her, said,\u2014\n\n\"'Go on, Marion. Yours is a blessed work. God will protect you\nin it.' Oh, how that benediction has encouraged me!\"\n\nWhat could Mr. Asbury answer to such pleading?\n\nAnd so Marion had gone on, from step to step, till Mr. Williamson\nwas fain to resign his ward to other and firmer hands. Her aunt,\nhaving exhausted all the adjectives in her denunciations, and having\ninformed her thousand and one friends that her niece was a bigoted\nfanatic, who, if permitted, would convert their house into an asylum\nfor paupers, coolly turned her back upon her, entirely ignoring her\nexistence.\n\nIn consequence of all this, Marion's twenty-first birthday found her\nin apartments of her own, with Hepsey for her confidential adviser;\nnot satisfied, as her aunt explained, with a life of luxurious\nrefinement, such as befitted her wealth and position in society,\nbut actually engaged as music teacher in Madame La Vergne's\ninstitute.\n\nThis last step, indeed, had been earnestly protested against by her\nUncle Asbury, and she was obliged to bring all her powers of coaxing,\narguing, and pleading to bear upon him before he would yield a\nreluctant consent.\n\n\"These young girls are just entering life,\" was her concluding plea,\n\"without either chart or compass to guide them. They will by and by\nexert a powerful influence either for good or evil.  In no other way\ncan I so readily gain an influence over them. If I can win only one\nof them to higher aims in life, will it not be worth the effort?\"\n\nEven Mrs. Asbury expostulated with her niece. \"You are free,\"\nshe urged, \"to go into any society you please, and you surely can\nfind young ladies quite as much in need of good influences as those\nconnected with Madame La Vergne's school. You will, when too late,\nperhaps, find it very irksome to be confined to certain hours.\"\n\n\"Now aunty, dear, don't you turn against me. I have thought so much\nof this plan, and my conscience approves, but I want your approval\nalso. Well, I may as well confess it; there are certain reasons why I\nwant to influence these particular girls, two of whom are in danger.\nThey were my pets when I was their schoolmate, and think I have\nalready gained their confidence.\"\n\n\"After all that is said,\" resumed Mr. Asbury \"you have power to do as\nyou please. You are absolutely your own mistress, with an independent\nfortune, but\u2014\"\n\nMarion drew up her queenly form and for an instant looked seriously\ndispleased, but quickly recovering herself, said, \"I'm sure, uncle,\nyou do not mean to hurt me. You and aunty are all I have who really\nand truly love me, so if you positively refuse your consent to my\ndevoting a few hours in a day to an employment which is congenial\nto me, with the hope of being useful to two motherless girls, I will\nrelinquish my project.\"\n\nMr. and Mrs. Asbury glanced at each other as Marion quietly left the\nroom, when with a laugh the gentleman said,\u2014\n\n\"What a way the girl has of carrying all before her. She must try her\nplan, I suppose. I wonder who those two girls are.\"\n\nAnd Marion did try it. How well she succeeded in her efforts for\ntheir good will be revealed in the pages of our book. Her life was a\nbusy one. Often, when she retired to rest, both body and brain were\nweary, and yet she was very happy. In her own home she tended her\nflowers and fed her birds with a song on her lips. She met her\nfriends with a smile so sweet, joyous, and free from care that they\nenvied her. Naturally, she was overflowing with fun; indeed, her\nvivacity, her quickness at repartee, made her the life of any circle,\nand her company, while she resided with her uncle, was sought by the\nyoung of both sexes.\n\nIt was not her intention to exclude herself wholly from society,\nbut she was resolute in her determination not to become a slave\nto fashion, the degrading effects of such slavery having, even at her\nage, been forced on her notice.\n\n\"I never saw any one who enjoyed life more than Miss Howard,\" was the\nremark of an old gentleman, after watching her at a musical party.\nShe was surrounded by a group of young people to whom she was\nrelating a story, the arch expression on her face bringing into play\nall her dimples. Gradually one and another, some advanced in life,\ndrew nearer, eager to share in the enjoyment. Perceiving this, Marion\nskilfully drew her story to a close, and engaged others in\nconversation, asking questions, and showing herself so anxious\nto please that a half-hour passed most delightfully.\n\n\"Singular being,\" muttered Mr. Lambert, an irascible old man who had\nbeen introduced to her. \"Not a word of scandal, thirty-five minutes,\nand no gossip. Pshaw! Fact, no talk about religion either. A strange\nfanatic that.\"\n\nStranger still, perhaps, that the old man persistently lingered in\nthe neighborhood of Miss Howard, leaning forward to catch every word,\ndrinking in the musical ripple of laughter, which Marion's friends\nused to call one of her greatest charms, watching the pure, fresh\ncountenance, the merry, earnest eyes, until the ice about his heart\nbegan to thaw. When they parted, to no one's surprise more than to\nhis own, he extended his hand, and gave hers a warm pressure as he\nsaid,\u2014\n\n\"I am glad that I have met one who has no trouble.\"\n\n\"I am an orphan,\" responded Marion, tears suddenly dimming her eyes,\n\"but I have a dear Father who is so very good to me.\"\n\n\"You do love life then, even though your parents have left you.\"\n\nThere was a touch of sarcasm in his voice which made her pity him.\n\n\"Oh, yes; I am very happy to be alive. There is so much to be done.\nI envy nothing so much as the leisure hours some do not know what\nto do with. Yes, it is good to live.\"\n\n\"What can you find to employ other people's leisure beside your own?\"\n\nShe gave one quick, earnest glance into his face, paused a moment,\nand then answered,\u2014\n\n\"I try to make others happy.\"\n\nShe was turning away when he caught her hand, and with a strange\ntwitching around his mouth, said,\u2014\n\n\"You seem to be in earnest. I, who doubt every one, find it hard to\ndoubt you. If you mean that you try to help the poor, you will find\nit a thankless task. It doesn't pay.\" There was intense bitterness in\nhis tone.\n\n\"But, my dear sir, that is because you go to the wrong paymaster.\nHe has promised that even a cup of cold water given for His sake\nshall receive its reward.\"\n\n\"Poor man! Doubting every one, endured only for the sake of your\nmoney; how I pity you,\" was Marion's reflection, as she drove swiftly\nwith Hepsey beside her. \"I wish I could give you a lesson in true\nhappiness. I'll try!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nGAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS.\n\nALL this had occurred long before our first introduction to the\nyoung lady. She still continued to give lessons in music at Madame\nLa Vergne's school, but received no compensation except in the case\nof three wealthy pupils. The amount received from these three just\ndefrayed the expense for tuition, etc., for two misses she was\neducating. One of these, Annie Leman, gave promise of great\nproficiency in music.\n\nMarion had speedy occasion to remember her resolution with regard to\nMr. Lambert. She was making some visits in a street crowded with\ntenement houses, and had for the moment become separated from Hepsey.\nWith a basket on her arm she was trying to make her way up a crazy\nflight of stairs when she heard a quick step behind her.\n\n\"You have caused me a pretty race,\" shouted a man's voice, which she\ninstantly recalled as belonging to her irascible friend. \"Good for\nheart complaint, very!\" putting his hand upon his breast and\nbreathing quickly. Possessing himself of her basket, he lifted the\ncover, and said with a sneer, \"Just as I supposed; tea and sugared\ndainties\u2014ought to be arrested\u2014idiotic\u2014pests to society\u2014humbug\n\u2014sentiment and nonsense!\" He was muttering away, when he caught her\nlook of pity, which rendered him furious.\n\n\"How dare you come here?\" he shouted. \"You, who claim to belong to\ndecent society. You, a chit of a girl, alone and unprotected in such\na region of filth and pollution.\"\n\nMarion's cheeks flushed with anger, and she was going to retort in a\nlike strain, but something in his appearance checked her.\n\nHe looked so thin and wan and friendless. Suddenly the anger faded\naway and with a smile she held out her hand for the basket, saying\nplayfully,\u2014\n\n\"If you had waited a minute, you would have seen that I am not alone\nhere; and I have good company while you are near to protect me.\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" His mouth twitched and she was sure his eyes twinkled at\nthis unexpected retort. When finding herself mistress of the\nsituation, she asked,\u2014\n\n\"How dare you come here? It is very dangerous,\" pointing to the\nstaircase, which Hepsey at this moment was trying to climb.\n\n\"Saw you\u2014thought you\u2014danger\u2014better send police\u2014not fit for\none of your sex.\"\n\nHe turned off into one of the filthy rooms, and they heard him\nscolding the inmates as though he enjoyed it.\n\n\"What a brute!\" muttered Hepsey; but Marion Only laughed, adding,\n\"I'm not a bit afraid of him.\"\n\nAs they were leaving the court he came up out of a cellar and joined\nthem.\n\n\"Delightful vicinity; very healthy, too!\" pointing to a stagnant pool\nof filth in which a pig was wallowing. He shrugged his shoulders,\nchuckling with mirth.\n\n\"I see you enjoy it as much as we do, Mr. Lambert. It's so good for\nthe spirits to see people enjoying themselves.\" A group of boys were\nplaying marbles on the uneven pavement, and scarcely moved for them\nto pass.\n\n\"Get out of the path,\" he shouted, striking his cane right and left.\n\"Don't you see you're in the way of your betters?\"\n\n\"Oh, Mr. Lambert!\" exclaimed Marion, \"you have hurt that boy,\" as one\nof the lads put his hand to his head, sending after them a terrible\noath.\n\n\"Pshaw! they're not tender\u2014good for them\u2014business to get out of\nthe way.\" But when they were about to turn out of the street and\nparted company, they saw him hurrying back to the group, shaking his\ncane and shouting, \"Wait! Wait!\"\n\nCurious to know what he would do, Marion went back to the head of the\nstreet, and saw the eccentric old man throw a handful of coins to the\nboys, as he could not get them to wait for another beating.\n\n\"What a disappointed life he must have had,\" she said to Hepsey,\nafter walking in silence for some minutes. \"I wonder whether he has\nany heart left.\"\n\n\"Not likely, miss,\" was the brief reply.\n\nA few weeks later Marion was having quite a jubilee in her parlors.\nShe had invited all the older classes in the mission school, and was\nentertaining them with a play called \"Shadows.\" At the end of the\nback parlor was a wide door across which a white curtain was\nstretched, and the children sitting in the darkened rooms saw behind\nthe curtain scenes which made them open both eyes and mouth\nin astonishment. A man was sitting in a chair in a doctor's office\nand the physician was examining him. First the outside of his head,\nthen the inside, taking out with pincers, one tooth after another and\nputting them in again, taking from the patient's throat tumblers,\nplates, long-handled kitchen spoons, a hammer, and at last an\numbrella, which had to be pulled and jerked, till the patient\nshrieked.\n\nThey were in the midst of all this when Marion heard a familiar voice\nmuttering,\u2014\n\n\"Fool's play,\u2014miserable waste\u2014time,\u2014money,\u2014better send them to\nthe penitentiary at once.\"\n\nSince their late interview Marion had thought much of the strange,\nlonely old man, and had nearly made up her mind that he only tried to\ndisguise his real feelings by his outlandish manner.  She gave him\nher hand cordially, as she said,\u2014\n\n\"I did not invite you to my party, Mr. Lambert, but I am very glad\nyou came. I was just needing some help.  My doctor in there needs a\nnew patient: come, I will introduce you to him.\"\n\n\"Patient, eh! Well, I need a doctor badly enough. What do you want me\nto do?\"\n\n\"Only to have your head cut off, sir.\"\n\n\"Hem! modest request,\u2014very civil, must say. My head is as 'valuable\nto me as\u2014yours, for instance.\"\n\nBut he followed her to the hall, from which they could pass to the\nroom in the rear.\n\n\"Your head will be restored in as good a condition as it is now,\" she\nexplained, with an arch smile.\n\nPresently the children saw the old gentleman take his seat in the\nchair, his long beard distinctly visible through the curtain.\n\n\"What do you complain of?\" they heard the doctor ask.\n\n\"Liver!\" shouted the patient. \"Haven't slept a wink for ten years.\"\n\n\"Not liver, but conscience,\u2014diseased conscience.\" This was Miss\nHoward's voice. \"It needs reorganizing, sir. It affects the whole\nbody, sir. I shall begin with the head and cut away all the diseased\npart until we come to soundness, sir.\"\n\n\"Is this the way you treat your patients? I'll not stand it. Cut off\nmy head, indeed!\"\n\n\"Absolute necessity, sir. If you wish to be cured, there must be no\ndelay.\"\n\n\"Pretty sight for the public,\u2014man minus head.\"\n\n\"My salve, sir, my famous Royal Recuperative Salve, known throughout\nthe world, sir, will make your head grow again in a few hours, sir.\"\n\n\"Don't believe a word of such humbug; but cut away; something must be\ndone.\"\n\nThe spectators held their breath as they saw the knife cut deep into\nthe flesh, then heard the saw cracking the bone, and, presently,\nafter a terrible groan, the head was severed from the body and thrown\nto the floor.\n\n\"Just in time, sir,\" exclaimed the doctor, cheerfully.  \"Disease\nchecked in time; heart and lungs, and liver too, all right. Now for\nthe salve!\"  They saw him rub the neck thoroughly with ointment from\na box, and then the patient was carefully moved from the chair.\n\nThe children remained in their seats awestruck, but the gas was relit\nand Miss Howard came into the parlor looking particularly smiling.\nWonder of wonders. It was scarcely fifteen minutes before the patient\nappeared, leaning on the arm of the doctor, his head erect and firm\nas ever.\n\n\"Miraculous cure,\" he muttered. \"Yes, I'll write an account for your\nadvertising paper. Head all right; little tenderness here, that's\nall,\" pointing to his throat.\n\n\"Then,\" said Dr. James, laughing heartily, as he took off his false\nmustache, \"I will bid you good day, sir, and wish you joy of your new\nhead.\"\n\nMr. Lambert threw himself into a chair and went off into convulsions\nof laughter.\n\n\"Outdoes the theatre by all odds. Hurrah for the Royal Recuperative\nSalve to cure diseased consciences! I'll take twenty bottles!\nHurrah!\"\n\nIn the mean time Marion took the children behind the curtain and\nexplained to them the method by which these wonders were\naccomplished. She recalled James, to show them that he only passed\nhis hand down by the side of the throat, when Hepsey, concealed from\nview, passed to him tumblers, umbrella, etc., all of which, in the\nshadow, seemed to come from the throat.\n\nThe decapitated head was made of pasteboard, cut to resemble an old\nman with a beard.\n\nThe apartments occupied by Marion were situated in a fashionable part\nof the city. Wishing to be entirely independent, and yet desirous of\navoiding the publicity of a hotel, she had persuaded Mr. and Mrs.\nMitchell, friends of her parents, to hire this house next to a hotel\nand allow her the entire use of the second floor. Her meals being\nsent in from the table d'h\u00f4te, she could indulge her hospitality\nwithout burdening her friends, who were advanced in age. Besides\nHepsey, she had a boy of sixteen years, whom she employed in various\nways, accompanying her in stormy weather in her visits to the poor,\ngoing errands, etc. This boy, Jim, or, as she called him, James\nKelly, was one of the first-fruits of her mission work, and, being\nan orphan like herself, she was deeply interested in his welfare.\n\nAt the death of her parents, their home in the country was rented,\nthe furniture, with the exception of certain costly articles,\npictures, etc., being allowed to remain in the house. These had been\nbrought to the city, and now beautified her pleasant home. Marion had\na passion for flowers, and at her own expense had built out from her\nparlor a small conservatory, which was filled with her favorite\nplants. One seldom saw her without a bud of some kind doing service\nfor a brooch at her throat; and in her calls upon the sick, a few\nfresh-cut violets or a sweet rose-bud proved a great help in gaining\nthe confidence she so earnestly sought.\n\nBelieving, as she did, that our social qualities were given us to be\ncultivated, our young friend gave frequent entertainments, always\nsupported by the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell. To further her\nown plans she selected games, encouraged charades, improvised\ncharacters, occasionally taking part herself, on which occasions\nshe abandoned herself to the enjoyment with the freshness of a child.\n\n\"I believe,\" she responded to a Christian friend, who was taking her\nto task for encouraging a taste for the theatrical,\u2014\"I believe that\nI have done more good by my charades than I could have hoped for in\nany other way. In one instance I have in mind, at a critical period\nfor a young favorite, I persuaded her to come to a charade I got up\nespecially for her; and I am satisfied the result was happy. She was\nin danger of giving way to evil influences; her conscience troubled\nher; she became very irritable. I had a little talk with her, took\nher with me to visit a poor family, who were indeed rich in faith,\nand then invited her to my entertainment. She came to me the second\nday after and, with a burst of joyful tears, threw herself into my\narms, exclaiming,\u2014\n\n\"'I'm so happy: the struggle is over.  Oh, I can never tell you how I\nthank you!' She had given up the acquaintance of one who was leading\nher astray, who would have made her a wretched husband, who had\ndenounced Christians as gloomy fanatics, who considered laughing a\nsin, etc. My party, mirthful and gay as it was, commended itself to\nher conscience; even the play itself conveyed to her excited mind a\nhigh moral sentiment, as I had intended. She went home, passed the\nnight pacing the floor, while she asked help of God to decide aright.\nShe is now an earnest, cheerful, Christian worker. Unsolicited, she\nleft the fashionable church which she had been attending, and is my\npowerful alto singer at our mission.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nPLEASANT PROJECTS.\n\nON Ethel's fifth birthday she claimed the promise of her mother,\u2014\nthat she should sit up to family prayers. Except on Sunday night,\nwhen supper was served at an earlier hour than on other days, it was\nher habit to eat her simple meal of bread and milk and be in bed\nbefore the ringing of the supper-bell.\n\nSitting up for prayers was quite an era in her young life. No sooner\nwas the meal concluded than she brought her low chair and placed it\nclose to Mr. Angus. It was the custom to sing a hymn before reading\nthe Scriptures, and the pastor held the book so that Ethel could look\non the page with him. As he named the hymn he merely remarked, \"It is\npleasant to have all join in this social worship.\"\n\nThe child, considering herself included in this invitation, as indeed\nshe was, began in a low timid tone to sing her own little hymn, but\npresently, becoming used to the sound of her voice, sang so loud as\nalmost to drown the tones of the piano, upon which Annie was playing.\nOver and over again she repeated the words, \"Jesus, come and make me\ngood, good, Jesus come and make me good.\"\n\nThe tune as well as the words were improvised for the occasion, and\ndid not in the least chord with the notes they were singing. Most of\nthose present smiled, Gardner tittered behind his book and about\nMr. Angus's mouth a suspicious twitching was noticed, but no one\ninterfered with the child's evident enjoyment of the occasion.\n\n\"I'm quite sure,\" remarked Mr. Angus afterward, as he seated Ethel\non his knee, \"that Jesus will hear and answer your prayer. Would you\nlike to learn a hymn to sing with us? Ask your sister to teach you\none, and you can learn the tune also. You have a very good voice.\"\n\n\"A powerful one, certainly,\" added her father, laughing.\n\nMr. Angus early formed the acquaintance of Mary Falkner, the crippled\ngirl. As Marion had told him, she was truly happy, though at times a\ngreat sufferer. In every event of her life she recognized a Father's\nloving, protecting hand, and was so truly thankful for every favor\nreceived that it was a privilege to bestow kindness.\n\nOn one occasion, when the pastor was sitting by her bedside,\nrealizing, as afterward he insisted, that he was receiving rather\nthan giving consolation, the door softly opened and Marion,\nunannounced, walked in. Perceiving the visitor, she was retiring when\nMr. Angus rose to leave.\n\n\"Don't go, please,\" Mary said to Marion, \"I was just intending to ask\nthe pastor to pray.\"\n\nMr. Angus gave the sick girl his hand when his prayer was concluded\nsaying, as he bent over-her, \"Remember your promise to pray for me;\npray that, whether led through a stony or a flowery path, I may have\nmy Father's guidance as you have.\"\n\nMarion drew near the bedside as the pastor left the room, and was not\nsurprised at the enthusiasm manifested for him by the cripple.\n\n\"He is such a kind friend, so humble, so devout. His prayers raise me\nto heaven; and he is mindful of my earthly wants too. Look here,\"\ntaking from an envelope a piece of silver, \"he always leaves a token\nbehind him, laying it on my pillow without a word,\u2014sometimes a\ndollar, never less than half a dollar.\"\n\n\"I was sure,\" answered Marion, in a hearty voice, \"that he would be a\ncomfort to you. You like him so much, I have a great mind to ask you\na question. Have you ever noticed any peculiarity in his prayers or\nin his manner?\"\n\nTears gushed to Mary's eyes which no physical suffering could have\nforced from them, and, clasping her hands, she exclaimed, \"Oh, how I\nwish I could comfort him! And he says I have. He has a deep, abiding\nsorrow. It is living sorrow, too. It cannot be grief for the dead.\nOnce he quite forgot that I was present, and he prayed; but it is too\nsacred to repeat. Oh, how my heart ached for him!\"\n\nMary covered her face and wept.\n\n\"I wish he would unburden his heart to you, Mary. I'm sure you could\ncomfort him. He is a puzzle to me. There is a weight on his spirits.\nI have seen an expression of agony come over his face when he thought\nhimself unobserved. Well, we can pray God to appear for him. I have\nnever spoken of him in this way before.\"\n\n\"Grief is too sacred to meddle with, at least such grief as his,\nMarion. I have told my Saviour about it.\"\n\nWhen the young lady left the humble roof she repaired to the station\nnear by to get her satchel, and found Mr. Angus just sending a\ntelegram to the city. He advanced eagerly to meet her, holding out\nhis hand.\n\n\"You are the very one to advise me,\" he said, his whole face beaming.\n\"I am a poor physician, but I know something of medicine. I have\nlearned about Mary's case, and I do not feel hopeless of her\nrecovery. You live in the city of New York, and have probably heard\nof the Home for the Sick.\"\n\n\"Certainly I have. I often go there to visit my sick friends.\"\n\n\"Then you will agree with me that, if I can procure a place for her\nin that Christian home, she will have a fair chance for recovery.\"\n\n\"Strange I never thought of it before,\" murmured Marion, as though\nspeaking to herself.\n\n\"Not at all strange. It did not occur to me till this morning, and I\nhave just written a message to Dr. B-, the superintendent, asking to\nhave a surgeon sent to examine the case. I have myself been an inmate\nof the Home, and have the most entire confidence in the care and\nskill she would receive.\"\n\n\"Will they send so far, Mr. Angus? I mean, will there not be great\nexpense? Excuse me, but I would advise another plan. Mary is a great\nfavorite of mine; indeed, I am under obligations to her. There is an\neminent surgeon in the next town, whom I will take to see her this\nvery day. If he gives us hope, I will go to the hospital at once on\nmy return to the city. I only wish I had thought of it years ago.\"\n\nA curious expression on Mr. Angus's face startled Marion, with a\nslight shrug of the shoulders, which was strangely familiar to her.\nIt was as though he had said,\u2014\"You are taking the matter out of my\nhands with a vengeance.\"\n\nMarion laughed aloud. \"Don't think me officious in meddling with your\nplan,\" she urged. \"I'm a teacher, you know, and accustomed to give\norders.\"\n\n\"I shall at least claim the pleasure, Miss Howard, of bearing the\nexpense necessary for placing her in the Home.\"\n\n\"I'll see about that.\" Marion gave one of those arch glances which\nbrought her dimples into full play. When she smiled, it was like a\nchild's face, pure and fresh, and sweet and loving. For one moment,\nas he gazed, Mr. Angus forgot his burden. There might yet be\nsomething bright for him in life. With a deep sigh he shouldered his\nburden again, and this time it seemed weightier than ever before.\n\nThey walked in silence for a time, the young lady puzzling herself\nto account for the strange associations connected with that peculiar\nexpression on Mr. Angus's face which had so startled her. Somehow it\nwas connected with the Home for the Sick. Rousing herself, and\nforgetting that his thoughts had not followed hers, she asked,\u2014\n\n\"Is it long since you were an inmate?\"\n\n\"Do you mean of the hospital?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"It is five years this very month.  It was there I was healed not\nonly in the body, but the soul. Never did any poor mortal need a\ndivine physician more than I did. Words cannot express my gratitude\nthat a merciful Father directed me to that spot. The faithful\nchaplain found me weighed to the ground, and persuaded me to allow an\nAlmighty Arm to be placed beneath me. Pardon me,\" he added, suddenly\ninterrupting himself, \"I did not remember that to a stranger this\nmust be a wearisome story. I am not used to forget myself in this\nway.\"\n\nHe turned toward her a face drawn with pain, to meet eyes full of\nsympathy, and when she murmured softly the words, \"I am not a\nstranger, I am a friend,\" his feelings almost overcame him.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said, extending his hand, but instantly withdrawing\nit; then, controlling himself by a visible effort, went on, \"I found\nmy Saviour within those blessed walls, and was encouraged both by the\npastor and chaplain to hope that, by consecrating my life to the\nservice of my divine Master, I might be useful to some poor soul as\nburdened as myself.\"\n\n\"Has not that hope been fulfilled, Mr. Angus? Has not Jesus Christ\nkept his gracious promise to you and given you rest? Pardon me, I am\na missionary too. I have thought much of you, and prayed for you, as\nI do for all my friends. I have feared that\u2014that you have not cast\nall your burden upon Him. You are trying to bear part of it alone.\nSorrow or sin He has atoned for and has promised to take. Oh, do give\nit all up to Him! For your own sake, for the sake of those in your\ncharge, I entreat you, try His love in all its fulness. It cannot,\nwill not, fail you.\"\n\nHer voice trembled in her eagerness. Suddenly catching a glimpse of\nhis pallid countenance, she stopped short in her walk.\n\n\"You will forgive, you will understand me,\" she pleaded. \"I for a\nmoment forgot that I am too young to advise you.\"\n\n\"Miss Howard, even you will turn from me in despair when I ask,\ncan these hands, which have shed the blood of a brother, ever be\nclean? Even you have seen the mark of Cain on my brow.\"\n\nStartled as she was, Marion realized that in order to give comfort to\nthis burdened soul, she must control herself. With a face blanched,\nand shaking voice, she repeated the gracious promise,\u2014\n\n\"'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.' Such a promise\nholds good, even to the shedder of blood.\"\n\n\"Do not understand,\" he exclaimed, in great excitement, \"that it was\nprompted by malice. It was an accident. I\u2014But the scene is too\nghastly to recall. To no mortal have I ever breathed the words\nbefore. Into the ears of a merciful God I pour my complaint day and\nnight.\"\n\nInto Marion's eyes came a strange light. The color surged back into\nher face. Memories of the past, forgotten for years, came rushing\nover her. She was wholly unaware that she had stopped again, that her\neyes were fixed on his, that she was trying to read his very\nthoughts. It required a great effort to come back to present\nrealities. \"I must say something,\" was her reflection. \"Oh, that I\nwas sure! God grant I may be!\"\n\n\"Mr. Angus,\" she began, her face beaming with a strange expression of\nhope and tenderness, \"forgive me for saying it, you have grown\nmorbid, brooding over your past. With all my heart I thank you for\nyour confidence, which I consider as sacred as the grave. Let me say\nthat I look forward confidently to the hour when the sorrow which has\nweighed you down to the dust will be driven away like the morning\ncloud. Pray for that time as though you believed God has power\nto help you. Have entire faith in His promise.\"\n\nBefore he could answer she had turned into side path and was\npresently lost to view.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTHE DOCTOR'S DIAGNOSIS.\n\nON going to dinner, Marion was not much surprised to hear that the\npastor had requested to be excused from the table on the plea of a\nheadache. Mrs. Asbury was preparing tea and toast, which the servant\nstood waiting to take up on a tray. At this moment Ethel came running\nup, her face flushed, exclaiming,\u2014\n\n\"Mamma, may I stay with Mr. Angus? He is sitting in the chair with\nhis eyes shut, and he looks real sick.\"\n\n\"I'll carry the tray myself,\" said Mrs. Asbury, glancing at her\nhusband. \"No, Ethel, stay here till I come back.\"\n\n\"He is worse than usual,\" she explained presently, as she brought\nback the food untouched. \"Ethel, dear, as soon as you have eaten,\nyou may go to him. Strange what an influence she has,\"\u2014turning to\nthe family. \"He asked it as a favor, if I could spare her.\"\n\nMr. and Mrs. Asbury were so occupied with anxiety about Mr. Angus,\nwhose strength seemed always on the point of giving way, that they\ndid not notice Marion's abstraction. As they were rising from the\nsilent meal, she asked,\u2014\n\n\"Can I have the horse and buggy, uncle? I want to drive to N\u2014. I am\ngoing for Dr. Moore to see Mary Falkner.\"\n\n\"Why not ask him to make a professional call on Mr. Angus?\"\n\n\"You might propose it to him, but I doubt whether he would require a\nsurgeon.\"\n\n\"That's so; but I mean to have a serious talk with him as soon as he\nrecovers from this attack. It is wicked for him to neglect these\nwarnings.\"\n\nAnnie eagerly offered to accompany Marion to N\u2014; but she only desired\nto be alone to have time to recall fleeting memories, to reconcile\ncoincidences, and decide how it was best for her to make her surmises\nknown to Mr. Angus.\n\nShe had driven slowly over the four miles to N\u2014 before her final\ndecision was reached. It would be cruel to hold out hopes which might\nprove fallacious. \"No, I must go home, to make sure. Then, if it be\nas I hope and believe what a joy.\" Marion stopped, wholly unable to\nexpress in words the deep emotions which agitated her. All the time\nshe was tying her horse to the post, she was saying to herself,\u2014\n\n\"Did she mean murder? An accident is not murder.\"\n\nIt was with a real effort that she roused herself to tell the\nphysician her errand.  He had just returned from a long drive to\nvisit a patient, and told her he would accompany her at once after\neating his dinner, and return in the cars.\n\nOn the way Marion related all that she knew of Mary's case, and then\ndescribed the arrangements at the Home for the Sick.\n\nHer enthusiasm made him laugh. \"I know all about that,\" he explained.\n\"I was one of the staff of house surgeons there at one time, and I\ncan say it is truly a home. Very few, even of the wealthiest, can\ncommand the care and skill which falls to the lot of the poorest\npatient there. I remember a wealthy lady coming with a valuable\nservant who had fractured her arm. When the patient was comfortably\nplaced in bed she was leaving the room, when she met Dr. B-, the\npastor and superintendent.\n\n\"'I want to recommend to your special attention the woman I have just\nbrought here,' she began.\n\n\"'Certainly, madam,' was his polite answer as he passed into the\nward, 'certainly; all our patients have special attention. She shall\nbe well cared for.'\"\n\n\"I have taken many patients there,\" rejoined Marion, her eye kindling\nwith pleasure. \"I should say that if there were any favorites, they\nare the very sickest and poorest, and sometimes the most repulsive.\nBut after all, the care of their bodies is only one part. They are\nled to think of the end of life, and in their enforced seclusion,\nwith the most loving influences about them, they often, very often,\ncome to better thoughts of their Maker, and go out with new hopes and\nnew resolutions in regard to life.\"\n\nDr. Moore was introduced to the patient by Marion, who only said that\nhe had called as her friend, to find out whether she could be\nrelieved by treatment from her spasms of pain. He made a careful\ndiagnosis of her case, after which he gave her some powders for\ntemporary relief, bade her take courage, and returned to Marion,\nwho was waiting in the buggy.\n\n\"I have been to the station, Doctor,\" she explained \"and there is no\ntrain to N- for a couple of hours, so I will take you home. I see by\nyour face that you have good news for me.\"\n\n\"Nonsense! A doctor's face goes for nothing. He has to train it to\nlook expressionless, or he would soon get into trouble.\"\n\n\"You can't deceive me, Doctor. I know you are going to say she can be\nrelieved.\"\n\n\"I will say more. She will always be lame, one limb being shorter\nthan the other, but, with the help of a thick sole to her shoe,\nI don't see why she should not walk about with as little difficulty\nas you and I do.\"\n\nMarion gave a cry of joy, clasping her hands. \"O Doctor!\" she\nexclaimed, \"what a blessed profession yours is! If I were a man\nI would be a physician before any other calling. I do thank you\nso much. How soon may I take her to New York?\"\n\n\"I've been thinking,\" he said, gayly, \"of indulging myself with a\ntrip to the city. How would it do for you to see Dr. B\u2014 and engage\na bed for her, and leave me to take her there?\"\n\n\"Will you, Doctor?\" She gave him a glance brimful, overflowing with\ndelight, and he answered,\u2014\n\n\"Yes, I will do all that. I shall be glad of the opportunity to see\nthe Home once more. Now Marion, I have earned a right to ask you a\nquestion. Why don't you get married?\"\n\nMarion threw back her head and laughed heartily. \"Your question is so\nentirely unexpected, Doctor, that I shall have to think before I\nanswer. Well, first, I am too busy to go about the country and select\nthe right man. Second, I have formed such an elevated idea of the\nbeing whom I would be willing to see in that relation, that in case\nI had leisure I should be appalled at the difficulties in my path.\nThirdly, I am just as happy now as I can be. I have my good old\nHepsey and James Kelly, and all my poor people to take care of now.\nI'm sure I can't imagine what I should do, even with my ideal man.\"\nThe laugh which followed was heart whole.\n\n\"Nevertheless,\" urged Dr. Moore, \"describe this ideal man to me.\"\n\n\"His image is scarcely distinct enough for that. First of all, he\nmust be a man who loves God and his neighbor as himself, as our\nSaviour has commanded.\"\n\n\"Humph! I don't know him, but go on.\"\n\n\"He must be both strong and tender, firm and gentle, courageous,\nkind, and courteous, capable of sympathy both in joy and grief.\nHe must be humble in his opinion of himself.\"  Here a sudden\nreflection checked her, and she added, softly, \"Not too humble,\" then\ncame to an abrupt pause.\n\n\"Appearance and manners,\" suggested the doctor, without glancing\nat her.\n\n\"Poor or rich is of no consequence; but he must have ability.\nWhatever his calling is, he must excel in it.\"\n\n\"Physician preferred, probably.\"\n\n\"Ye-es, or some kindred profession.\"\n\n\"Lawyer, eh?\"\n\n\"No; oh, no, indeed, not a lawyer!\"\n\n\"Minister to a foreign court, perhaps?\"\n\n\"No, not connected with politics in any way.\"\n\n\"There is nothing left but a shoemaker, or a country parson.\nMerchants of every grade watch the bills in Congress with eagle eyes.\nBut how does he look?\"\n\n\"Like an athlete.\" Suddenly catching a twinkle in her companion's\neye, Marion's cheeks and brow became suffused, and she burst out,\n\"How ridiculous I have made myself! I never thought so much of my\nhusband before in all my life.\"\n\n\"I'm well acquainted with him,\" said the doctor, demurely. \"He's all\nright; even your parents would be satisfied with him.\"\n\n\"What can you mean, Doctor?\" She was startled now. \"Was there ever\nsuch a man?\"\n\nThey had reached his home, and he quietly resigned the lines to her\nhand. Just as he stepped to the ground, he fixed an earnest eye on\nher as he said,\u2014\n\n\"The portrait is excellent, even to the too humble.\"\n\n\"Doctor! Dr. Moore!\" called out Marion, as with an arch smile he was\nturning away, \"you haven't given me your bill. I shall go to-morrow\nto see Dr. B--, and will write you at once; A friend of Mary's is to\nbear all expenses of her recovery; and, Doctor, I haven't told you\nhow very, very grateful I am to you.\"\n\n\"For approving your choice of a husband?\"\n\n\"You know, Doctor, I was thinking of some thing very remote from an\nideal man, whom it is very unlikely I shall ever see. I may tell Mary\nnow, mayn't I?\"\n\n\"Certainly. And in the pleasure you will have in telling her the good\nnews, you will forgive an old friend of your father for making a\ncareful diagnosis of your heart.\"\n\nHe gave her another quizzical glance and turned away.\n\n\"How absurd he is!\" murmured the young lady. \"How could I have been\nbetrayed into such nonsense? I wonder whether he was in earnest, in\nsaying he knew any one to whom the description would fit. He would be\na wonder of goodness, and I\u2014\"\n\nHere Marion astonished the faithful old horse, who was going on in\nhis quiet jog, by a sudden jerk of the lines and a peremptory order\nto quicken his pace. On consulting her watch, she found it nearly\nfive o'clock. She must call at the thread and needle store, give Mary\nthe joyful hope recovery, and then hasten home.\n\nTo one who is always looking to her Father in heaven for the gifts\nwhich flow into her daily life it is not surprising, but only an\nincreased reason for gratitude, when unlooked-for mercies are\nbestowed.\n\nSo it was with the poor cripple. As Marion cautiously conveyed to her\nthe opinion of Dr. Moore that her suffering might be relieved, and in\ntime perhaps she might be restored to active life and its duties,\nthe quick gasp, the tightened clasp of her emaciated hands,\nthe moistened eye raised in silent gratitude to God, were the only\ntokens of the fervent thankfulness which almost overcame her.\n\nWhen Marion had explained the doctor's view of her case, she went on:\n\"You must give your pastor the credit of the plan. He was just\nsending a telegram to the Home when I met him at the station, and\u2014\nand\"\u2014she hesitated, surprised at herself for her reluctance to talk\nof Mr. Angus\u2014\"he offered to bear all the expense of having you\nconveyed to New York. But I speedily convinced him that I had the\nfirst claim to that privilege.\"\n\n\"How good God is, raising up friends for me on every side!\"\n\n\"Good by, Mary, for the present. I shall expect to see you very soon\nin one of the nice beds at the Home for the Sick.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nA RAY OF HOPE.\n\nTHE family were all seated at the tea-table when Mr. Angus came in\nfrom the street. He apologized for being behind time by saying that\na parishioner had sent for him, and it was a longer walk than he\nexpected. His countenance bore marks of excitement, but he entered\ninto conversation with the others, and seemed desirous of averting\nattention from himself.\n\nAfter family prayer, which directly followed supper, he rose as\nthough he was going to retire when Ethel caught his hand, saying,\u2014\n\n\"My Marion is going to sing a hymn before I go to bed. Please stay\nand hear it.\"\n\nMarion had already commenced, and, without noticing who was near her,\nwent through the hymn.\n\n\"We give thee but thine own,\nWhate'er the gift may be,\nAll that we have is Thine alone,\nA trust, O Lord, from Thee.\n\n\"May we Thy bounties thus\nAs stewards true receive.\nAnd gladly as Thou blessest us,\nTo Thee our first-fruits give.\n\n\"Oh hearts are bruised and dead,\nAnd homes are bare and cold,\nAnd lambs for whom the Shepherd bled\nAre straying from the fold!\n\n\"To comfort and to bless,\nTo find a balm for woe,\nTo tend the lone and fatherless,\nIs angels' work below.\n\n\"The captive to release,\nTo God the lost to bring,\nTo teach the way of life and peace,\nIt is a Christ-like thing.\n\n\"And we believe Thy word,\nThough dim our faith may be,\nWhate'er for Thine we do, O Lord,\nWe do it unto Thee.\"\n\n\"I propose an amendment, as the congressmen say,\" she urged,\npleasantly, as she saw Mr. Angus. \"Please stay and sing with us,\nand then I have some pleasant news for you.\"\n\nHe joined her instantly at the piano, though she saw that he did so\nreluctantly. She turned to the all-inspiring words,\u2014\n\n\"All hail the power of Jesus' name!\nLet angels prostrate fall.\"\n\nFrom the tones of his voice, as one verse followed another, she could\ndetect the change in his feelings. In the last stanza it was evident\nhis religious fervor had triumphed over his sadness. The tones, rich\nand clear, thrilled Marion's heart strangely. Happening to meet his\neye as she was closing the book, she saw there evidence of an\nelevation of soul, as though the sentiments of the hymn had roused\nhim from his gloom.\n\n\"Thank you,\" was his low response.\n\n\"I expect to leave early in the morning,\" she said. \"I shall go\nimmediately to see Dr. B\u2014\u2014\u2014. Dr. Moore is very hopeful in regard\nto Mary's cure, though she may always walk lame. She was very\ngrateful that you had thought of sending her to the Home for the\nSick.\"\n\n\"I am delighted, Miss Howard. You have indeed been an angel of mercy\nto the poor girl. She speaks of your thoughtful kindness as one of\nthe chief blessings of her life.\"\n\n\"Isn't it fortunate that Dr. Moore was once house physician there?\nand he will convey her to the city himself. No, Mr. Angus,\" as he\nheld out his purse, \"we cannot permit you to have all the pleasure,\nthough we gladly share with you. You have done your part in\nsuggesting the possibility of her restoration, and she has a friend\nwho will defray all expenses.  By the way, if you can spare the time,\nshe would be glad of a call from you before she leaves home.\"\n\n\"Duties never conflict, Miss Howard. If you were not so busy among\nyour pupils, etc., I would express a wish that you would visit a\ndistressed family I saw to-day. They are in deep waters, and need a\nkind friend of their own sex.\"\n\n\"Who are they?\"\n\n\"Mother, daughter, and grandson,\u2014one of the most beautiful boys\nI ever saw. The mother is ill, I fear on the verge of consumption.\nThe daughter, whom I conclude is a widow, is too young and beautiful\nto be left to make her own way in the world. The boy, Eugene, won my\nheart at once, and under a sudden impulse I asked the mother to give\nhim to me: I am fond of children.\"\n\n\"I can easily believe that,\" she said, with one of her smiles, which\nalways made his heart so warm. \"If I were not very good-natured\nI should reproach you with winning away Ethel's love from me. Isn't\nshe a darling?\"\n\nFor answer he bent down and pressed a kiss on the warm, red lips held\nup so temptingly to his. The child at this minute had come into the\nroom to bid him and Marion good night; having done so, she danced\naway again, hugging Frances, her favorite dolly, in her arms.\n\n\"'Of such is the kingdom of heaven,'\" murmured the pastor, his eye\nfollowing her fairy-like figure; \"and we are told that unless we are\nlike them, we cannot be admitted to that glorious home.\"\n\nAfter a pause he added, \"Eugene interested me deeply, but not at all\nin the way Ethel does. He is as full of mischief as he can hold;\nnothing ethereal about him. He is earthly even in his beauty, while\nEthel seems just fresh from heaven. Dear child! I have learned many a\nlesson from her.\"\n\n\"You have interested me deeply in your friends, Mr. Angus. I wish now\nI could stay another day at least, but I cannot.\"\n\nRecalling the business which sent her home so soon, there was an\nearnestness in her voice, as she repeated, \"Oh, no, I cannot stay!\"\nthat rather surprised her hearer. Meeting the questioning glance,\nit was as much as the impulsive girl could do to check herself from\nsaying,\u2014\n\n\"I go for your sake, to give you that which will restore peace to\nyour heart.\"\n\n\"But I hope to be so successful in my business that I can come again\nsoon. I will ask Aunt Asbury to visit them, if you wish.\"\n\n\"It is not a case of poverty,\u2014at least I think not. The mother\u2014\nshe seems very young\u2014needs sympathy and counsel; she would only\ntake it from one she loved.\"\n\nHe seemed to be urging a duty upon her, though he did not so intend\nit; and Marion grew excited, wondering whether she ought to write\nDr. B\u2014 about Mary, and postpone her other business for another day.\n\n\"I wish I knew which was my duty: I have set my heart on something.\nI ought not to have delayed it so long. I have been forgetful of a\nsacred charge, and I wish to atone for it as soon as possible.\"\n\nShe gazed wistfully in his face, longing to give him a ray of the\nhope she felt almost sure was in store for him,\u2014almost, not quite.\n\"If, after all, I am wrong, and he is not the one, it would be\ninexcusable in me to excite hopes only to crush them.\"\n\n\"Miss Howard,\" he began, unable to endure the sight of her distress,\nwhich by turns suffused her cheeks and blanched them, \"can you not\ntrust me to decide for you?\"\n\n\"In almost any other case but this, I could. It would be cruel to\ntell you now.\" She stood one moment, her hands tightly clasped,\nher eyes fixed on the carpet; then, with a sudden change, she looked\nsmiling in his face as she said,\u2014\n\n\"Give me the exact direction to your prot\u00e9g\u00e9's, and I'll go to-morrow\nmorning. I can write this evening to Dr. B\u2014.\"\n\n\"Uncle Asbury,\" inquired Marion later in the evening, and when no one\nbut her uncle and aunt were present, \"have you ever mentioned before\nMr. Angus that I have any other income than what I earn from\nteaching?\"\n\n\"Not a word. He considers you suffering from extreme poverty, and\nquite worries himself over the time you lose during your visits\nto us. If you press me to tell you the whole truth, he is anxious\nlest your love for dress and jewels should involve you in serious\npecuniary embarrassment. He considers that rich silk and point-lace\ncollar, though extremely becoming, quite beyond your means.\"\n\n\"Nonsense! Now do be serious. I don't want anybody to know, and\nespecially strangers like Mr. Angus, that\u2014\"\n\n\"You can, if you choose buy up half our congregation, to say nothing\nof the poor minister.  No, I won't tell him that.\"\n\n\"Don't tease the child, pa,\" put in Mrs. Asbury, though laughing\nherself.\n\n\"It is from the clergyman especially you wish this important\ninformation kept,\" questioned the gentleman, his eye twinkling.\n\nMarion looked really annoyed. \"I see I must explain,\" she began.\n\"There are some poor people I am going to help. He offered, from\nhis salary, I suppose, to pay Mary's expenses to the city, etc.\nI told him a friend would supply the means, and I don't wish him\nto think I am the one.\"\n\n\"On the principle of the left hand hiding from the right, I suppose.\nYes, I see.\" With a mischievous glance, he turned to his newspaper,\nand Marion, informing her aunt that she intended to make a call on a\nsick lady in the morning, and had postponed her return till\nafternoon, bade them good-night and retired to her chamber.\n\nPassing Ethel's room, she found to her surprise that the child was\nstill awake.\n\n\"Please come in a minute, Marion: I must get up again. I can't\nremember whether I have said my prayers. I feel prayers in here,\"\nputting her hand to her breast, \"and I can't go to sleep.\"\n\n\"Well, darling, get up, and I'll kneel with you.\"\n\nEthel began with\u2014\n\n\"Now I lay me down to sleep,\"\n\nfollowed with the Lord's Prayer, then began her own simple petitions.\n\n\"Bless me, dear God, and make me as good as Jesus wants me to be.\nBless papa and mamma and Mr. Angus, and all those I love, and keep\nthem all from sin and from crying. I thank you for giving me such\na kind papa and mamma. I thank you for sparing them to me so long.\nI hope you will spare them as long as you think it is safe, but if\nyou don't think it safe to-morrow or next day, thy will be done.\"\n\nThe little head was scarcely on the pillow, when Marion, much amused\nby the child's mode of expressing her submission, ran back to the\nparlor to repeat it. As she entered she heard Mr. Angus's voice\nasking permission to use the buggy at an early hour to go to a\ndistant part of the town. Seeing her, he explained that, as she had\nbeen kind enough to delay her return to New York in order to visit\nthis distressed family, he wished to make arrangements to take her\nthere.\n\n\"It is in a part of the town with which I am least familiar,\"\nhe added, \"and I should find difficult to direct any one.\"\n\n\"I am sorry,\" said Marion, frankly.  \"I know your rule about your\nmorning hours for study.  I would delay my return longer, but it is\nimpossible.\"\n\nAnd it had seemed impossible ever since she had agreed to make the\nmorning visit to his prot\u00e9g\u00e9s.\n\n\"If he only knew,\" she said to herself again and again, \"how much\ndepends on my going home. I am confident that package is somewhere\namong my papers; and yet it is so strange that I have not seen it for\nyears. I had forgotten entirely that I had it in possession. I did\nsympathize deeply with that poor, friendless girl, an orphan, as I\nhad so lately become; but, with so many different prot\u00e9g\u00e9s on hand,\u2014\nso many orphans and others whom I have taken to that blessed Home,\u2014\nshe had passed entirely out of mind, until that peculiar smile of\nMr. Angus and the expressive shrug of his shoulders brought her up\nbefore me. Let me think. When I left Uncle Williamson's, my letters,\npapers, etc., were all packed up and sent to my present home.\nStrange I haven't seen them. No, some were sent here.\"\n\nShe gave a scream of joy, and, running to the kitchen for\na hand-lamp, called a servant to go with her to the attic,\nwhere a box marked with her name was stored.\n\nAt the breakfast-table, when Mrs. Asbury remonstrated against her\nniece's plans, while she looked so pale and haggard, no one present,\nand least of all the pastor, suspected that it was interest in his\nfuture which had kept her till midnight searching among her papers\nfor what she could not find, that disappointment and bitter regret\nthat she had not more carefully guarded so sacred a trust had caused\nher many tears.\n\nTo add to her embarrassment, Mr. Asbury, just as he rose from the\ntable, approached her and said, \"Marion, I fear it is your pecuniary\nsituation which troubles you. Promise me that you will apply to me in\nany need.\"\n\n\"Why, pa!\" began Annie in surprise; but she never finished her\nsentence. Marion, noticing that Mr. Angus was within hearing, gave\nher cousin a warning glance, coolly said to her uncle, \"I promise,\"\nand then walked away.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nAN APPEAL FOR SYMPATHY.\n\nTHE family to whom Mr. Angus wished to introduce Miss Howard lived in\na small cottage in the outskirts of the town of N-.\n\nOn their way thither he repeated the impression they had made upon\nhim,\u2014that they had seen better days.\n\n\"I have been enough among the poor in New York,\" he said, warming,\nwith the subject, \"to be sure that these are not of the kind who\nwould ask for assistance, even though they were suffering. I am eager\nto know how they will impress you.\"\n\nHe turned to look in her face, which seemed to be unusually\nthoughtful, but with a bright smile, she explained,\u2014\n\n\"I was trying to reconcile irreconcilable facts. For instance, I know\na gentleman in New York who has more leisure and money than he knows\nwhat to do with, and I was wondering why I should be so very busy and\nhave so little time for work that I like best.\"\n\n\"I have solved worse puzzles than that, Miss Howard. Can you not\nimbue your friend with love for your favorite work? Gentlemen with\ntoo much leisure are not to be classed with the most favored beings.\"\n\n\"He is one of the most wretched men I know, sarcastic and cynical to\nsuch a degree that his society is shunned by every one; and yet I\ncan't help pitying him. I believe that he has a passion for making\nhimself appear worse than he is. I have taken a fancy,\" she added,\nwith a hearty laugh, \"to try some experiments on him.\"\n\n\"Of what nature?\"\n\n\"Why, I have been told again and again that he has no heart. I am\napplying tests to find out the fact for myself; so far, that\nimportant organ seems to be in a state of ossification; but I am not\ndiscouraged.\"\n\n\"If I were your uncle, I should warn you that ossified hearts, when\nwakened from their torpor, sometimes become dangerously active,\u2014\nI mean dangerous for their own happiness.\"\n\nMarion's eyes twinkled with mirth. \"I do not fear too much activity,\nI fear too little. But is not that the house?\"\n\nMr. Angus had told her the child was beautiful; but this had by no\nmeans prepared her for the lovely, enchanting face which burst upon\nher as, advancing into the room, a boy of three or four years sprang\nout from an inner apartment.\n\n\"Oh, you darling little fellow!\" she cried, catching him in her arms,\nand bestowing kiss after kiss upon him. So absorbed was Marion in\ndelight and wonder that she did not notice the entrance of a young\nlady from a door in the opposite direction, until the voice of\nMr. Angus saying, \"Miss Howard, Mrs. Cheriton,\" roused her to present\nrealities.\n\n\"Excuse me,\" she began, cheeks and chin dimpling with amusement.\n\"I forgot that I was a stranger,\u2014everything in my admiration\nfor\u2014.\" She interrupted herself to place the child on the floor;\nbut he had no idea of being abandoned so suddenly. He clung tightly\naround her neck, his face sparkling with mischief.\n\n\"Genie, don't tease the lady.\" The mother's voice was soft, and she\nspoke with a pretty accent; but the boy paid not the slightest\nattention to his mother's mild suggestion. He clung to his new\nfriend, occasionally holding himself off far enough to look in\nher face.\n\nCatching a glimpse of Mr. Angus's tall form standing over near the\ndoor, his hat in his hand, keen appreciation of the scene stamped on\nevery feature, Marion's color surged to her very brow. She whispered,\n\"Go to the gentleman now, Genie,\" and put the boy to the floor.\n\n\"Will you take a drive with me, Eugene?\"\n\nThis being soon arranged, Mr. Angus carried the child to the buggy,\nmerely saying to Marion,\u2014\n\n\"I will be back in half an hour.\"\n\nMrs. Cheriton looked so very youthful that it was hard for Marion to\nbelieve she could be the mother of Eugene. She was very beautiful,\nof the Southern type of beauty,\u2014large, liquid eyes, regular\nfeatures, abundant tresses of blue-black hair, which on the present\noccasion were wound gracefully around her head, arched eyebrows,\nand a pleasant smile when she addressed you. This tout ensemble the\nvisitor took in at a glance, and all the time she was asking herself,\n\"Shall I like her?\"\n\nAfter speaking for a moment of Eugene, Marion said,\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Angus tells me your mother is very ill.\"\n\n\"Yes; and she has heard your voice. Will you go to her?\"\n\n\"Gladly.\"\n\nOn the bed, but raised almost to a sitting posture, lay a lady.\nOne glance proved her to be such. There was an air of refinement and\nculture about her which proved her to belong to the best-educated\nclass of society.\n\nShe met Marion's sympathetic glance with an earnest gaze, as though\nshe would read what manner of spirit she was of; then a beaming smile\nlighted her whole face, as she said softly,\u2014\n\n\"You are very welcome, my dear.\"\n\n\"I felt then,\" said Marion afterwards to her aunt, \"as though I could\ntake her right into my heart of hearts.\" What she did at the moment\nto show what she felt was to bend over and press her lips to the pale\ncheek of the sufferer.\n\nA few words of explanation as to her present visit,\u2014of sorrow that\nit must be a hurried one,\u2014and then Marion said,\u2014\n\n\"I am sure you will not consider my question prompted by curiosity,\nif I ask, why are you here in this out-of-the-way part of the town?\"\n\n\"Necessity compels it, my dear. I need perfect quiet.\"\n\n\"Would you prefer the city?\"\n\n\"Greatly, in many respects, if I were well.\"\n\n\"You could have a physician near you there.\"\n\n\"No physician can avail me now,\u2014at least such is my belief.\"\n\n\"Except the great Physician.\"\n\nAn expression of heavenly peace stole over the wan face. She held\nMarion's hand in a closer grasp, as she said fervently,\u2014\n\n\"God be praised! He has applied healing balm. My sins, which were\nmany, are forgiven. Oh, if you knew all, you would not wonder that\nI look forward with longing to the hour when he will call me home!\"\n\n\"You would feel like a poor sailor I found just redeemed from the\nvery depths of woe. He was singing from morning to night,\"\u2014\n\n\"'Love I much, I'm much forgiven;\nI'm a miracle of grace.'\"\n\nMarion's clear voice as she sang the lines rang through the room.\n\n\"Will you sing a hymn for me, Miss Howard?\"\n\nWithout a moment's hesitation the young began one which was a\nfavorite with herself.\n\n\"Whate'er my God ordains is right;\nHis will is ever just;\nHowe'er he orders now my cause,\nI will be still and trust.\nHe is my God:\nThough dark my road,\nHe holds me that I shall not fall,\nWherefore to him I leave it all.\n\n\"Whate'er my God ordains is right;\nHe never will deceive.\nHe leads me by the proper path,\nAnd so to him I cleave,\nAnd take content\nWhat he hath sen\nHis hand can turn my griefs away,\nAnd patiently I wait his day.\n\n\"Whate'er my God ordains is right;\nThough I the cup must drink,\nThat bitter seems to my faint heart,\nI will not fear nor shrink.\nTears pass away\nWith dawn of day;\nSweet comfort yet shall fill my heart,\nAnd pain and sorrow all depart.\n\n\"Whate'er my God ordains is right;\nMy Light, my Life is he,\nWho cannot will me aught but good,\u2014\nI trust him utterly;\nFor well I know,\nIn joy or woe,\nWe soon shall see, as sunlight clear,\nHow faithful was our Guardian here.\n\n\"Whate'er my God ordains is right;\nHere will I take my stand,\nThough sorrow, need, or death make earth\nFor me a desert land.\nMy Father's care\nIs round me there;\nHe holds me, that I shall not fall,\nAnd so to him I leave it all.\"\n\nBefore she had ended, the door softly opened and was left ajar.\n\nMarion started at the sound of wheels. \"There is Mr. Angus!\"\nshe exclaimed; \"but I cannot go yet. I feel as though I had known you\nall my life. I have to go to New York to-day. I want you to go to the\ncity. Why will you not come to me? I have room for all of you.\nYes, that will be best. It will be next to having my mother with me.\nI can insure you a quiet room. Will you come?\"\n\nMrs. Douglas closed her eyes; tears called forth by such kindness\nfrom a stranger, trickled through the eyelids. Striving for\nself-control she said,\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Angus told me you were an angel of mercy. Never did any\nstrangers in a strange land need friends more than we do. I have\nprayed night and day that my heavenly Father would raise up for my\npoor Juliette and Eugene Christian friends. He has answered my\nprayers. I will consider your proposal to go to New York, where board\nwithin our means can perhaps be obtained near you. For Juliette's\nsake I would be glad to be there.\"\n\n\"I regret so much that business of importance calls me home to-day,\nbut I will find a place at once, if you will not accept my\ninvitation. I am sure I can promise for Mr. Angus that he will be\na good friend to you and attend to your removal.\"\n\n\"Mamma, I'm going home with Mr. Angus,\" shouted Genie, bursting into\nthe outer room. \"I'm tired of staying here.\"\n\n\"Miss Howard,\"\u2014the voice was so full of solemnity that Marion bent\nover the bed again to listen, her breath coming quickly,\u2014\"you do\nnot seem like a stranger. Mr. Angus told me I might confide in you.\nIf I had time and strength I would tell you the sad story of my past\nlife. I was gay and thoughtless, living for this world alone. I have\nbeen justly punished. Some time, if God gives me strength, I would\nlike to tell you my sad story. If, after you know all, you are\nwilling to be a friend to the dear ones I leave behind, the only\nburden left me will be removed.\"\n\n\"I will gladly listen.\"\n\nWith moistened eyes she had just answered, when Mrs. Cheriton opened\nthe bedroom door, saying, \"Your husband has returned, madam, and asks\nwhether you are ready.\"\n\nMarion bent over the bed and kissed the sick lady, glad to hide her\nblushing cheeks caused by Mrs. Cheriton's blunder. Then saying,\u2014\n\n\"Please explain that Mr. Angus is only my friend. I shall see you\nagain before long,\" hastened to the door.\n\nEugene was still in the arms of the clergyman and it required much\npersuasion on the part of his mother to coax him to remain with her.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nMARION'S SICKNESS.\n\nTHE drive back to town was a silent one, and not until they were\nwithin a short distance from home was a word spoken. Mr. Angus seemed\nabsorbed in thought, and his companion, with the added care of the\nfriends she had just left, was little inclined for conversation.\nA sigh from her at last caused the gentleman to ask,\u2014\n\n\"Have I done wrong in bringing to your notice these strangers?\"\n\n\"No, sir. No, indeed. What a dear old lady she is! And not very old\neither. Sorrow, I imagine, more than time, has aged her. Eugene is\na perfect dream of boyish beauty.\"\n\n\"What of the young mother?\"\n\nMarion sighed again. \"I don't know.  I have been trying to decide.\nI have seen somebody whom she resembles. She does not attract me as\nher mother does.\"\n\n\"Eugene scarcely has a feature like hers.\"\n\n\"No, he is more like you than like her.\"\n\nShe had entirely forgotten her high praise of the boy's beauty; but a\nlittle twitching about the muscles of his mouth proved that he\nremembered and was far from displeased.\n\n\"Do you know,\" she asked quickly, as they drew up to the door of her\nuncle's house, \"that I am going to take your new parishioners to\nNew York? For some reason, Madam Douglass prefers being there, and I\nhave promised for you that you will aid them in their removal.\"\n\n\"Pecuniarily, do you mean?\"\n\n\"Certainly not. Only as a friend, in getting to the right train,\netc.;  but even that is not necessary: Uncle Asbury will attend\nto it.\"\n\n\"Just as you please, Miss Howard.\"\n\nShe sprang from the carriage without giving him an opportunity to\nhelp her, and ran into the house. His voice, so sad and cold, had\nhurt her. Seeing no one in the hall, she went in haste to her own\nroom, to pack her satchel for her journey home, saying to herself\nmeanwhile,\u2014\n\n\"If he knew all that I do, and all that I can guess about his sad\npast, and how shamefully I have neglected my promise to that poor,\ndying girl, he would be justified in never speaking to me at all.\"\n\nAt the dinner-table Marion gave a description of Madam Douglass and\nEugene, merely mentioning Mrs. Cheriton as the boy's mother; and\neasily won a promise from her aunt to go and see them. \"I wish,\naunty,\" she added, after the conversation had turned to another\nsubject, \"that you would notice whether Mrs. Cheriton resembles any\none you know. Her eyes haunt me. I have tried in vain to account for\nthe resemblance.\"\n\nOnce on the train, Marion acknowledged to herself the need of rest.\nWith one hand to her throbbing temples, she took memorandum book and\npencil from her pocket. Two visits to some very destitute families\nought to be paid, and Hepsey must take her place for this time.\nShe noted down the following words: \"Board for three, not too far\naway. Home for the Sick. Letter to Dr. Moore. Search for lost\npackage.\"\n\nThe carriage, with James on the box with the driver, met her at the\nstation, as she had telegraphed him to do. Seizing a letter from\nDr. B-, she read hastily, and, finding that Mary could be received at\nonce on the recommendation of Dr. Moore, countermanded her order to\nbe driven to the hospital, and said \"Home.\" Here she only remained\nlong enough to dash off a letter to Dr. Moore, enclosing the one from\nthe superintendent, and then went to Mrs. Mitchell for advice about a\nboarding-place. Four or five were advertised as desirable situations;\nand Marion, putting by her anxiety to begin her search for the\npackage, hurried off in the carriage to examine for herself. Two or\nthree hours were consumed in going from one house to another, finding\neach that she visited more unsuitable than the one before it, and at\nlast only engaged rooms conditionally, in a private family,\nrecommended to her by a friend, whom she met near the door. Enclosing\nthe street and number to her aunt, she requested that Madam Douglass\nmight be informed of the place and price, and an answer returned at\nonce.\n\nHepsey was just about starting on her mission when she caught a\nglimpse of her young mistress, and exclaimed, in great excitement,\u2014\n\n\"You are ill, and have not told me. I must see you in bed before I\ngo out.\"\n\nIt was indeed true that a terrible lassitude had been stealing over\nher ever since the excitement of the morning. For two nights she had\nscarcely slept, and since breakfast she had barely tasted food.\n\n\"A cup of tea will revive me,\" she said, trying with a smile to allay\nHepsey's too evident anxiety.\n\nThen feeling herself grow more languid, she said, aloud,\u2014\n\n\"I can't give up now. I must find that package, I must, if I search\nall night.\"\n\nThe tea was brought and eagerly swallowed, but the temples still\nthrobbed, and at last the young girl reluctantly acknowledged that\nshe felt ill and must rest for a few hours.\n\nHepsey quietly laid off her bonnet and shawl, called James, and gave\nhim the address of the poor she was going to visit, with directions\nas to procuring them food, etc., and then devoted herself to her\nyoung mistress.\n\nAn hour later Marion woke from the heavy sleep into which she had\nfallen with a shriek of distress. Her eyes were wide open, but she\ndid not recognize the faithful nurse who was bending over her.\nA physician was instantly summoned, who found her in a high state\nof mental excitement.\n\n\"How long has this been coming on? I ought to have been called\nearlier,\" he said, in some irritation.\n\n\"She only returned from the country this afternoon,\" explained Hepsey.\n\nHe went back to the bedside, re-examined the pulse of his patient,\nlistened to her incoherent mutterings, and then said gravely,\n\"She has symptoms of a contagious fever. I have had a few cases\nalready among the poor.\"\n\n\"James has just returned from an errand to one of her prot\u00e9g\u00e9s,\na mission boy. He had just been buried, and a flag was hung from the\nwindow to prevent people from entering.\"\n\n\"Well, if people will go round to these filthy haunts, they,\u2014\nbut it's no use to think of that now. I'll do my best to save her.\nI'll have a flag out here, unless you will promise that no one shall\ncome in: perfect quiet is a necessity.\"\n\nHepsey promised, but the next morning, after a short absence from the\nroom, she found a young lady sitting by the bed, bathing the hot\ntemples of the sufferer.\n\n\"I have come to stay,\" she said softly, as she rose and beckoned\nHepsey into the hall. \"Mrs. Mitchell told me last night how ill\nshe is, and I have come prepared to act as nurse. You will let me\nhelp you\"; and the young girl gazed wistfully in Hepsey's face.\n\nIt was Annie Leman, a favorite prot\u00e9g\u00e9 of Marion, whom she was\neducating for a music teacher, and, looking in her earnest face,\nHepsey had not the heart to deny her request.\n\n\"We'll see what the doctor will say,\" she murmured, and then they\nboth returned to the room.\n\nWhat the doctor said at first sight of this girlish figure was,\n\"I won't have her here.\" What he said after the second day was,\n\"What could we do without her?\"\n\nAnd so the sun rose and set while in that quiet room the fever raged,\nfor Marion had been in the full vigor of health, and the heated blood\nrushed rampant through her body. Sometimes she tried to spring from\nthe bed, calling out,\u2014\n\n\"I must find it,\" or \"Here it is,\" and laughed aloud for joy.\nAt other times she lay for hours in a heavy stupor, while rich and\npoor besieged the door with inquiries concerning her.\n\nAmong others who came was Dr. Moore. He had safely conveyed Mary\nFalkner to the Home for the Sick, where he learned from Dr. B\u2014 that\nMiss Howard was dangerously ill, and went at once to her house\nto learn who was her physician, when they came together to see her.\n\nMarion woke suddenly, to find her old friend from N\u2014 bending over\nher. A momentary consciousness caused her to call him by name, and\nthen, associating him at once with her friends in Grantbury,\nshe said,\u2014\n\n\"Tell him there is hope,\" then fell back into heavy sleep. Every\nmorning came a bunch of cut flowers of the choicest varieties from\nMr. Lambert, with a request to Mrs. Mitchell to be informed whether\n\"any change had taken place in Miss Howard.\"\n\nDay after day as it passed proved to all Marion's friends that the\nyoung girl who glided so noiselessly around the bed was possessed\nof a native skill just fitting her to take a part in the struggle\nbetween life and death going on in that chamber. She was never seen\nto sleep, and yet she never seemed weary. Not a movement of that\nprone figure escaped her notice, not an order or prescription of the\nphysician was forgotten. When the doctor asked in wonder,\u2014\n\n\"What sustains you?\" her brief answer was, \"Love, sir. Love and\ngratitude. She deserves from me all that I can give her.\"\n\nHepsey told Mrs. Asbury, who came from Grantbury to see her niece,\u2014\n\n\"We have all cause to thank God for sending Miss Annie here.\nThe doctor says, if our dear Marion lives through this dreadful time,\nit will be the loving care, which, with the blessing of God,\nhas brought her through.\"\n\nIf Mr. Lambert believed what he was so fond of affirming, that the\npoor are a thankless set, who will steal your purse the minute your\nback is turned, his faith in this assurance might have been shaken by\nthe genuine sorrow manifested during Miss Howard's illness.\n\nOne instance of affection and gratitude he was himself a witness of.\nHe was approaching Miss Howard's door early one morning with a bunch\nof exquisite blossoms in his hand, carefully shielded from sun and\nwind by the tissue paper covering, when he saw a little girl\napproaching from the opposite direction. She had on a thin shawl,\nwhich she held out from her person as though shielding something\nprecious. Curiosity prompted the gentleman to watch and see what she\nwas going to do. He held back till she ran down the basement steps\nand timidly rang the bell of the lower door of Mr. Mitchell's house.\n\nCautiously he stepped forward, and saw her hold out one little pink.\n\n\"Will you please give the kind lady this?\" she asked, in a pleading\ntone. \"When I was down with fever, she brought me a beautiful bush\nall covered with flowers, and she told me how to water it, and put it\nin the sun. This flower came out last night. There are no more, or I\nwould have brought them. She's been ever so good to mammy and me.\"\n\nThere were tears in her voice as she spoke, and the listener,\ngrumbling under his breath at his own folly, put up his finger\nto prevent a tear from falling from his own eye.\n\n\"What's your name?\" asked the woman at the door.\n\n\"Nanny Morse,\u2014she'll know.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll see that she has it,\u2014if it's only to hold in her poor,\nunconscious fingers,\" she added, as the child, after an earnest\n\"Thank you, ma'am,\" turned away.\n\nMr. Lambert afterwards confessed that he felt like throwing his\ncostly flowers into the street. He did not, however; he rang the\nbell, delivered them to James, the servant in waiting, received the\nsadly spoken message, \"No change, sir,\" and then hurried away,\nmuttering,\u2014\n\n\"World upside down; just my luck; only girl in all the crowd worth\nthat,\" snapping his finger; \"and she going\u2014\"\n\nHe stopped suddenly at sight of the little flower-girl again.\n\nShe was talking to a disreputably dressed lad, who, with a rimless\ncap stuck on one side of his head, was evidently annoyed at the\ndetention.\n\n\"Don't go, Jack. 'T would grieve her, even in heaven, if she knew\nyou'd turn back to the bad after all she's done for yer.\"\n\n\"I'm hungry, and if I go home mammy'll beat me, sure.\"\n\n\"No, she won't, Jack,\u2014not when I tell her about the kind lady.\nCome, go with me.\"\n\n\"Take this and buy a cake,\" exclaimed Mr. Lambert, thrusting some\nsilver pieces into Nanny's hand.\n\nNot waiting for any thanks, he strode off in the opposite direction,\nmuttering, \"Old fool! Just like you! Meddling, always meddling.\"\n\nAfter using his handkerchief vigorously, he went on: \"What business\nis it of mine, if she dies to-day? I don't care. Yes, that's a lie:\nyou do care, you old sinner! You only say that because you're so\nhateful,\u2014you know you care. You'll never see another like her.\nThere!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nANNIE'S LETTER.\n\nTHE third week of Marion's sickness there came a crisis and hope.\nYes, it was evident to all there was hope now, where fear had\nprevailed. The doctor's mouth, which had been so firm and rigid,\nrelaxed; and there was a suspicion of a smile.  Hepsey's eyes were\nless watery, James opened and shut the outer door in a jubilant\nmanner, proud of being the one to say to the anxious inquirers,\u2014\n\n\"The doctor begins to hope.\"\n\nOn Annie Leman's pale face had come beams of light, which made her\nbeautiful. Scarcely conscious of her own action, she went forward\nto the physician, caught his hand and pressed it in both hers.\n\n\"How can I thank you sir,\" she said, softly.\n\n\"Pshaw, Miss Annie! She owes more to you than to me. We can both\nthank God. She has been so close to the open gates, I think she can\ntell us something of what is inside.\"\n\nOne Thursday morning, twenty-six days from the time she left\nGrantbury, Marion opened her eyes and the light of consciousness\ndawned in them.\n\nFor one instant there was a bewildered expression as she gazed at her\nfaithful watcher, who sat by her side; then she smiled, and said\nfaintly,\u2014\n\n\"It's Annie.\"\n\n\"Yes, dear.\"\n\n\"How came I in bed? I remember I felt ill in the cars.\"\n\n\"You have been sick, but you are much better now. Take a spoonful\nof this, dear, and go to sleep again.\"\n\n\"Lie down by me, Annie, and I'll try to sleep. You look pale and\ntired.\"\n\nAnnie smoothed the pillow, changed Marion's position, and then lay\ndown on the outside of the bed, as she had done so many times during\nthe last weary weeks.\n\n\"Miss Howard's excellent constitution is doing wonders for her,\"\nremarked Dr. Ross, as, after the crisis, she seemed to make a leap\ninto the arms of health. \"No more drugs: Nature will do her own work\nnow.\"\n\nThis was Marion's first experience of severe illness, and it was\ndifficult to make her understand that for a time she must be\neconomical of her newly gained energies.\n\n\"I feel so strong,\" she insisted, \"that I ought to be waiting on\nAnnie, instead of her waiting on me.\"\n\n\"Speaking of Miss Annie,\" said the doctor, \"I have two little girls\nold enough to learn music. By-and-by, when you are well, I shall ask\nher to take them into her care.\"\n\n\"How do you know she is competent, Doctor? You ought to consult me,\"\nurged Marion, with her old beaming smile, as she saw that her\nfavorite pupil had difficulty in controlling her gratitude at this\nunexpected offer.\n\n\"I'll test her capabilities now.  Come, Miss Annie, into the parlor,\nand give me a piece offhand.\"\n\nWith many blushes she obeyed, and, seating herself at the piano,\nplayed from memory an accompaniment to a simple ballad, which she\nsang with so much sweetness that the physician was delighted.\n\n\"Teach my girls to play and sing like that,\" he exclaimed, \"and your\nfortune is made. Teach them another accomplishment, too,\u2014to play\nwhen they are asked, without excuses, as you did. I more than half\nexpected you would say, 'I'm all out of practice, Doctor'; or,\n'I'm far from strong.' Teach them all that, and you'll win the\ngratitude of one father.\"\n\nBefore Marion was able to drive out herself, she insisted that Annie\nshould spend several hours every day in the open air. Indeed, she\ncontrived so many errands which it was imperative must be attended\nto immediately that the young girl could not refuse.\n\nShe early learned that Mary Falkner came to the city soon after the\nplace in the Home for the Sick had been secured for her, that\nDr. Moore had seen her safely in the bed in her ward, and had\nafterward had a consultation visit on her own case with Dr. Ross.\n\nShe seemed to have forgotten all about her new prot\u00e9g\u00e9s,\nMrs. Douglass and Mrs. Cheriton; but one day, on looking over the\ncards left during her sickness, she found one which brought the\ncrimson tide back to her pale cheeks.\n\nIt was a card with the name in print,\u2014Harold Angus; and underneath,\nin a fine hand, was written Juliette Cheriton, with the street and\nnumber of her boarding-place.\n\n\"Oh, how much I have to do!\" Marion said. \"I forgot this lady\nentirely.\"\n\nAnnie wondered what caused the pained voice and firmly set lips of\nher friend, but she only said soothingly,\u2014\n\n\"Don't worry, dear. Tell me if there is any thing I can do to help\nyou.\"\n\nMarion put her hand wearily to her head, and in answer to Annie's\nearnest remonstrance, pleading that she would think of nothing about\nbusiness now, she only asked,\u2014\"How soon will the doctor be here?\"\n\n\"Not for some hours yet. You will have time for a good nap.\"\n\n\"Please give me my pen and paper: I must write a few words, then I\nwill try to rest; and, Annie dear, will you leave me alone a few\nminutes?\"\n\nThe table was drawn nearer, materials for writing placed within\nreach, and Annie, after a wistful glance at her friend, left the\nchamber. If she could have looked back and seen the weary, tired,\npained expression which came over her friend's face as she seized the\npen, she might have doubted whether she was acting wisely to leave\nher.\n\nThe note was quickly written, indeed the words were dashed off with a\nfierce energy, as though she doubted her ability to finish, unless at\nonce. It read thus:\u2014\n\nMr. Harold Angus:\u2014\n\nLife is uncertain. I hope to live to restore to you a packet from one\nwhom I strongly suspect was dear to you. To find this package drove\nme home from Grantbury, where I first heard that which connected you\nin my thoughts with a young girl called Stella. I am not aware of its\ncontents, and can only say now that Stella died of consumption at the\nHome for the Sick, loving and forgiving and blessing all those who\nhad been dear to her.\n\nMARION HOWARD.\n\nHaving sealed this, and written the address, she added this\ndirection: \"If I should die, please deliver this at once;\" then,\nenclosing the whole in a blank envelope, she touched her hand-bell\nand requested Annie to place it in her desk.\n\n\"I must rest my head now,\" she said; \"but first, I want you to\npromise me that, in case anything should happen to me, you will\nforward any letters you may find in my desk.  Don't look so\nfrightened, dear. I shall try to get well, for I have a great deal\nto do, and life is so pleasant; but there are duties which I dared\nnot defer.\"\n\nAt this moment James knocked at the door, and passed in a letter just\ndelivered by the postman.\n\n\"It is Annie Asbury's handwriting,\" explained Marion, in a glad\nvoice.  \"It will soothe me to sleep, perhaps. Annie is a dear child.\"\n\nThe letter read thus:\u2014\n\nDEAR MARION,\u2014\n\nImagine me sitting by the east window, where I can\nlook out on the great elm-tree, and hear the robin-redbreasts as they\nare calling their mates to join them in a morning song. I wish you\ncould see the grass. It looks greener than green, now that the sun\nis touching it. I guess somebody else is feasting his eyes on the\nemerald greensward (that's quoted), for I hear a curtain rolled up\nand window-sash raised, so I am going to quit this highfalutin style,\nand let my pen run on as it will; but, before I forget it, I must\ntell you that ever since Mr. Angus ran up to town the day he called\nto inquire for you there has been a change in him. Before that he had\none of his worst attacks of depression, or dyspepsia, as Aunt\nThankful calls them; but now he seems to have made up his mind not\nto give way. I don't mean that he is cheerful, and I don't know as\nI can explain what I do mean. You must see him, before you will\nunderstand. Last night, after prayers, ma must have noticed something\ndifferent in him, for she went to him and held out her hand in that\nkind way of hers.\n\n\"I thank you for your prayer,\" she said: \"it has done me good.\"\n\nAll the answer he made was to repeat these words,\u2014\n\n\"God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.\"\n\nAs he stood with his eyes fixed full on hers, I saw a new light\nin them, as though he had said to himself, \"I'm going to take courage\nand go ahead.\"\n\nIf he had seen you, and you had talked to him as you did to pa and ma\nafter dear Helen died, I should have expected to see just such a\nlook.\n\nI suppose you know, dear, that those foreign people went away the\nweek after you did. Ma went with Mr. Angus and brought Eugene here.\nHe is so beautiful he almost took my breath away; but I am sorry\nto say he is so far from good in Ethel's meaning of the word that she\nconsiders it necessary to pray for him very often. Not a soul would\nhe obey but Mr. Angus. I laughed so much I had to go out of the room:\nthere was that boy with eyes flashing, defying everybody to make him\nstop teasing the cat, and holding her up by the tail; and there was\nEthel perfectly dumb with astonishment, eyes wide open, pale cheeks,\nand that little quiver of her lips she has when grieved. Mr. Angus\ntook in the situation at once and said,\u2014\n\n\"Come to me, Eugene.\"\n\nThe boy did not stir.\n\nIf I were an artist I would try to sketch Mr. Angus's eyes, as he\nfixed them on the defiant little fellow. There was power in them.\nI think Ethel would be frightened into fits if he looked at her in\nthat way. Eugene endured it a minute and then ran, throwing his arms\naround the neck of the conqueror, who looked lovingly enough then.\nI only waited to see whether Ethel would be jealous; but the precious\nchild went up and held up her sweet lips to kiss Eugene and show him\nshe forgave him; then I ran to my room and had a hearty laugh all to\nmyself.\n\nMr. Angus told ma that Eugene was a Spanish Creole, and that it is\nnatural for him to be hot-blooded.\n\nMa said you wanted me to write a whole letter about Ethel,\u2014all her\nfunny sayings and doings. I'm sorry now I didn't begin with these,\nfor I fear my letter will be too long.\n\nFirst, she is a darling.  Yesterday she came running in from the\ngarden, her hair all in a friz about her forehead, her cheeks of a\nbrilliant color.\n\n\"Oh, my!\" she cried, throwing off her hat. \"I'm all in a\nsweatperation.\"\n\n\"A what?\" repeated Gardner, trying not to laugh.\n\n\"A sweatperation. Isn't that right?\" she asked quickly, as he burst\nout laughing.\n\n\"It's perspiration, dear,\" I explained.  She was a little mortified.\n\nShe has begun to learn the Commandments, and applies them to herself\nand her dolls on all occasions.\n\nDo you remember that habit she used to have of twirling a piece of\nher dress or apron when she was talking? She made a clean dress look\nso mussed, ma told her she mustn't do it.\n\nA few days ago I heard her talking to her favorite doll, Frances.\n\n\"You have been a very naughty girl: you have broken the Commandments.\nDon't deny it, Frances. I saw you do it.\"\n\n\"What has poor Frances done?\" I asked.\n\n\"Mussed her nice dress all up, so she can't go to the party.\"\n\n\"It wasn't pretty for her to do it; but I don't think it was breaking\nthe Commandments, dear.\"\n\n\"Why, yes, it is, Annie, because I forbid her to do it.\"\n\n\"Oh! it comes under obedience, then.\"\n\n\"Yes, she is very naughty.\"\n\nTwo weeks ago Mr. Angus asked ma to let Ethel and I go on the lake\nwith him. Ma is afraid of the water, you know, and so she asked,\nanxiously,\u2014\n\n\"Are you used to rowing?\"\n\nHe seemed very much amused as he said, \"Yes, Mrs. Asbury.\"\n\nPa laughed as he explained, \"Our pastor is a regular sailor, ma:\nI'll trust him.\"\n\nWhen we were getting into the boat I was a little afraid myself,\nit tipped so; and there stood dear little Ethel shaking from head\nto foot.\n\n\"Will it tip over?\" she asked, as Mr. Angus lifted her carefully in.\n\n\"No, dear. I think God will take care of us.\" He looked very lovingly\nat her as he put her down on the cross seat in the centre, while I\nsat at one end and he at the other. There was not a sign of fear\nafter that. She sat up straight, looking at him, but not saying a\nword till he asked,\u2014\n\n\"Do you like it, Ethel?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nThe next day she was in his room, and he saw her take her five\ndollies out of the locker and make them all kneel down by her doll's\nbedstead. She was just going to kneel too, when he asked,\u2014\n\n\"What are you doing, Ethel?\"\n\nShe came right up to him and said, \"Ma is going to take me to\nNew York when my Marion is well enough, and I'm going to ask God\nto make the boat go softly.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" he told her; and then he heard her whisper a little\nprayer.\n\nHe told ma that she seemed perfectly sure after this that the boat\nwould go softly, as she said. He often says, \"She is a blessed\nchild.\" He never praises her, as so many do; but I know he thinks her\nbeautiful, from the way he spoke one day when a lady was comparing\nher with another child. He said, \"There can be no comparison.\nFor purity and sweetness of expression, she is beyond any child\nI ever saw.\"\n\nI must tell you one thing more about our pet, and then I think you\nwill credit me with four letters of common length.\n\nYou know we have always wondered that Ethel should remember so much\nabout her nurse Bridget, who died a year ago. She always seemed\ntroubled about her, and used to look up and say, \"Can't you speak\nto me out of heaven? Can't you just whisper a little?\"\n\nA few days ago she went into the kitchen and sat down very soberly.\n\"It's very bad,\" she began, \"to have naughty legs go into heaven.\nNaughty legs had better be cut off than to try to get into heaven.\"\nCook told ma, and we all thought she had heard somebody read about;\n\"If thy right hand offend thee,\" etc.; but she came to ma the same\nday, sat down, and began to sigh.\n\nShe looked anxiously in ma's face as she said,\u2014\n\n\"I suppose Bridget has told God by this time that I kicked her.\"\n\nMa says she was very much surprised, as she never knew Ethel to kick\nany one; but she answered calmly,\u2014\n\n\"If Bridget told God, she told him also that you didn't mean to.\"\n\n\"But I did mean to.\" She held her finger up to emphasize it, and\nrepeated, \"I did mean to.\"\n\n\"Well, then, dear, she told him that you were sorry.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" sighing.  \"I'm sorry now. I wasn't sorry then, when she went\naway.\"\n\n\"I'll tell you, darling, what you can do,\"\u2014ma saw she was really\ntroubled and conscience-stricken,\u2014\"you can kneel down and tell God\nyourself that you are sorry. He will forgive you.\"\n\nShe knelt for some time by her little chair, whispering her prayer in\nGod's ear. Since that she has never mentioned Bridget's name.\nShe must have suffered all that time from the pricks of her tender\nconscience. I'm sure I saw tears in Mr. Angus's eyes when ma told him\nabout it.\n\nGood-by, dear Marion. The breakfast-bell is ringing, and I'm sure\nGardner is doing it, for it is done with a will. He's hungry,\nI suppose. From\n\nCOUSIN ANNIE.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nTHE LOST PACKAGE.\n\n\"DON'T wake her; I'll call again.\"\n\n\"I think, Doctor, she wished to see you specially.\"\n\n\"Yes, I do,\" called out Marion, awaking from a refreshing nap,\nwith Annie's letter still in her hand. \"Doctor, I'm almost well.\"\n\n\"Decidedly. Are you dismissing me?\"\n\n\"No, indeed; but I want to ask you something.\"\n\nShe waited a moment, as though uncertain how to state her business.\n\"Doctor, I have something on my mind that troubles me. I feel sure\nI should be well at once if it were decided.\"\n\n\"Is it a case of blasted affections, or\u2014\"\n\n\"Don't joke, Doctor: it's a serious affair. It's a breach of trust\non my part, and I can't rest until I have done all in my power\nto remedy the injury.\"\n\n\"Why do you tell me this?\" he asked, evidently startled. \"Go to\nyour lawyer, or\u2014perhaps your clergymen would do better.\"\n\n\"Because you were my father's friend, and you are my friend. I only\ntell you now to get your consent to my doing what my conscience tells\nme is my duty.\"\n\n\"I can't give advice on such general information. I must know\nparticulars.\"\n\n\"I will state a case.  Suppose a very sick and dying girl confided\nto your care a letter or letters containing her last words to a dear\nfriend, name unknown. Suppose that years passed and you never thought\nof the trust, and at last, when you had reason to suspect you had\nfound the right person, the letters were lost. Suppose that this\nperson was a dreadful sufferer for want of the words which are\nprobably in those lost letters. What would you do, Dr. Ross?\"\n\n\"I am very sorry for you, my dear child, if you are in such trouble\nas that. Can't you inform the person of the contents of the letters?\"\n\n\"If I only knew what the contents are, and that he is the right one\nto receive them. Years had passed since she had heard from her\nfriend, and she often said it would be a relief to know that he had\nrepented and died. I inferred that he had done her some great wrong,\nand she had told him she never would forgive him. Before she died she\ndid forgive him with all her heart, and with almost her last breath\nleft him her love and her blessing.\"\n\n\"Tell the person that.\"\n\n\"How can I be sure he is the one, without the packet? It is enclosed\nin a business envelope, directed to me. It is very aggravating that\nI cannot recollect her name\u2014but that I could find at the Home for\nthe Sick. I knew her as Stella.\"\n\n\"Have you made a thorough search?\"\n\n\"Oh, no! I have not thought of it for years. Just before I was taken\nsick, something occurred of a confidential nature, which led to a\nsuspicion that he is the one I ought to give it to. I began to\nsearch at once for it among papers I sent to the country when I left\nUncle Williamson's.  I have not looked for it here. I cannot\nrecollect seeing it for years. Now I want you to consent that I go\nto work in earnest. If I don't find it,\" sighing heavily, \"what shall\nI do?\"\n\n\"Let me think a minute.\" He rose and paced the floor, while she gazed\nat his knitted brows, clenching her hands in impatience for him\nto speak.\n\nHe came back to his seat, and counted her pulse.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, with a grave smile, as he glanced into her eager,\nwistful face, \"if you feel pretty sure you have a clew to the right\nindividual, ask him some leading questions. Has he ever heard of such\na lady, naming her? If he is ignorant, or pretends to be, you are\nrelieved from that responsibility. If he should prove to have known\nher, you can state the circumstance: of her sickness and death, and\nthe messages she left for a dear friend.\"\n\n\"But, Doctor\u2014\"\n\n\"Yes, I know; and I am trying to choose between two evils. You are\nrecovering from a dangerous illness, and are not fit for any\nexcitement. On the other hand, it is possible that the worry of mind,\nwhile waiting for strength, will do you equal harm; so I will make a\ncompromise. Your pulse is pretty steady. You may have as many papers\nas you please brought here, where Miss Annie can help you search,\nif you will promise to stop at once if you feel tired, take one of\nthose sweet-tasting pills, and go to bed.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Doctor. I promise. Will you please ring the bell?\"\n\nHe laughed as he complied. Then saying, \"I wish you great success,\"\nleft the room.\n\nIn ten minutes Marion was dressed and seated in an old-fashioned\narmchair, while within her reach was a drawer of papers, pamphlets,\netc., etc. Annie Leman sat on a cricket near by, while James was\nbringing drawers and boxes from the storeroom.\n\nHaving explained what she wanted to find, the work proceeded\nin silence, occasional sighs from Marion being the only interruption.\nIn less than two hours every paper had been handled and thrown back.\n\n\"Are you sure, James, that you have brought all?\" The tone was sharp\nand decided.\n\n\"Yes, miss. Mrs. Mitchell came to the attic and told me which\nto take, and she says there are no more in the house.\"\n\n\"Take them all away, again.\"\n\nShe sank back and covered her face with her hands, but starting\npresently, she said,\u2014\n\n\"I am not keeping my promise to the doctor, Annie. I must take one\nof those horrid pills, and go to bed. I want to sleep and forget\neverything.\"\n\nThe next day was so pleasant that Mrs. Mitchell proposed she should\ntake a drive; but Marion had no heart for anything, unless, indeed,\n\"I could go to the Home for the Sick and see Mary Falkner,\u2014and I\ndon't believe the doctor would let me do that. I could ask Dr. B\u2014 to\nexamine the record too. If Stella's name was Angus, I\u2014\" she stopped\nsuddenly on hearing the doctor's step.\n\nHe came in while they were discussing the subject, and ended it\nby saying she was to go and drive around the park for an hour.\n\nHe contrived to send every one from the room, and then asked,\u2014\n\n\"What success?\"\n\n\"None at all. I have no hope, now, and have made up my mind to be\nas patient as I can till I am well enough to see the one to whom\nI referred, and tell him what I know. I think he will forgive me,\nbut I can never forgive myself.\"\n\nAfter this, she went out every pleasant day for a week, and gained\nstrength rapidly, notwithstanding her abiding regret in regard to the\nlost packet. Then came a few days of wet weather, when she was\nobliged to keep in-doors. She sent for her pupils, gave them lessons,\nand heard them sing and play. She sent for new music for Annie, and\ntried to interest herself in it. She purchased flowers and sent them\nto Mrs. Douglass, who, under the care of an experienced physician,\nwas gaining strength daily.  The first pleasant day she resolved\nto go to Grantbury, taking James with her. Annie Leman had returned\nto her aunt, and was giving lessons to her first pupils.\n\nOne morning she stood watching the cloud, which seemed to be blowing\nover, and said to herself, \"To-morrow, if it clears up, I shall be\noff. What a relief it will be to tell him, and be forgiven for my\nneglect of so sacred a trust!\"\n\nShe heard the bell ring, and then James's voice asking whether she\nwould see Mr. Belknap.\n\n\"Certainly; ask him up at once.\" She advanced eagerly to the door\nto meet her father's aged friend, and her own legal adviser.\n\nMarion's manner was always charming in its heartiness, but towards\nher aged friends there was almost a filial warmth, which made them\nfeel that they were special favorites. She seated the white-haired\nold man in her most comfortable chair, putting an ottoman near him,\nwhere she could sit and look in his face.\n\n\"You have been near death, I hear,\" he said tenderly.\n\n\"Yes, sir; but all that time was lost to me. I was not conscious\nof danger.\"\n\n\"God has been good to you, my child. He has raised you up to new\nduties. You must be thankful for all His mercies.\"\n\n\"I must, indeed. I want to be better for this sickness, more helpful\nof others not so favored as I am, more humble and charitable.\"\n\n\"That's right, dear child. Ask for grace to improve each day's joys\nand sorrows, and you will get it.\"\n\nHe then talked to Marion of business, saying, \"There are some papers\nwhich it will be necessary for you to sign.\"\n\nHe had made a long call, when the doctor came in, and, seeing\nMr. Belknap, telegraphed to Marion to speak to him in the hall.\nWhen there he only said,\u2014\n\n\"Tell your story to him: he's a good friend to you.\"\n\nAnd she did tell him, relating the death scene in the hospital more\nin detail than she had done before. She told him also that she had\naccidentally met a person who was burdened with a heavy grief, whose\nname, as nearly as she could recollect, was the same. She had always\ncalled her friend by her first name, and the belief grew stronger and\nstronger in her mind that he was the one to whom her dying friend\nreferred. An expression on the gentleman's face had first startled\nher and carried her back in mind to her friend, and the recollection\nof the letters left in her care.\n\nHe listened attentively, not saying a word till she had finished the\nrecital.\n\n\"You say she died in the Home, in the year 18\u2014.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"And that he also was in the same Home for months,\u2014that he told the\nchaplain his story, as she had told hers, probably.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir; but I didn't think\"\u2014she stopped abruptly, staring in his\nface, and then exclaimed, \"Oh, if I could find that packet of\nletters! I begin to think he cannot be the one after all. Perhaps her\nfriend has long been dead.\"\n\n\"Where did you keep the packet?\"\n\n\"I must have put it where I considered it safe at the time; but her\nstory was so vague,\u2014and she never mentioned the relation in which\nthis person stood to her. I fancied he might have been her lover.\nI was young, and thought I was to keep it till called for. I remember\nthinking as she was a foreigner it was not likely it would ever be\ndelivered to any one. When I left Uncle Williamson's, I kept some\npapers here and sent the rest to Grantbury.\"\n\n\"Except the green box of deeds, etc., etc., we keep in our safe.\"\n\nMarion started to her feet, exclaiming, \"It is there! It is there!\nLet us go and get it.\"\n\nShe rang the bell, told James to have the carriage round as quickly\nas possible, hurried on her hat and sacque, looking so eager and\nhopeful that her old friend said, cautiously,\u2014\n\n\"Don't be too sure, my child.\"\n\nShe turned to him, her whole face dimpled with smiles.\n\n\"I'm almost as sure,\" she said, \"as though I had it in my hand.\"\n\nIn a few minutes she stood at the lawyer's table, while a clerk was\nsent for the green box. One minute more, papers tied with red tape,\nworth thousands of dollars, and nicely filed receipts were scattered\nover the table. Near the bottom lay the missing packet, which, with a\nscream of joy,\u2014\"That's it,\"\u2014she caught and held to her breast.\n\n\"I can't sign anything to-day,\" she answered, as the younger partner\nrequested her to wait a few minutes. \"If you will send the papers\nround, I'll do it: I'm too excited now.\"\n\nShe ran down the stairs, whispering over and over,\u2014\n\n\"God has been very good to me\"; then to the coachman,\u2014\n\n[Illustration: SHE FELL ON HER KNEES.  Page 169.]\n\n\"Home as quickly as possible.\"\n\nOnce in her own chamber, she locked the door and, not waiting to\nremove her hat, tore off the envelope; and there, written in a feeble\nhand, was the address,\u2014\"Harold Angus, formerly of Doncaster,\nYorkshire, England.\"\n\nShe fell on her knees, and thanked God. A strange calm stole over\nher, as she began to realize that it was her privilege to lift the\nheavy burden from one whom she so greatly respected, so admired for\nhis many noble qualities.\n\nShe summoned James, and sent him off to the telegraph office with\nthis message:\u2014\n\nREV. HAROLD ANGUS, Grantbury, Conn.\n\nPlease take the afternoon train, 2:50, for this city.  A carriage\nwill meet you at the station.\n\nMARION HOWARD.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nA SAD STORY.\n\nTo describe the scene which followed, I will quote from the words of\nan eminent author.\n\n\"Have you ever watched the sun rise upon a landscape that has been,\nbut a few moments before, a world of gray and black shadows? Have you\nseen the rosy flush of dawn creeping in lines of tender light across\nthe hills, and shining down into the valleys?\" If you have seen this\nbeauteous birth of day, and felt its full significance of life\nrenewed, then your imagination can fancy the dawn of the new and\nperfect joy with which the young pastor received the intelligence\ncontained in the letters.\n\n\"I have come at your call,\" he had said, as he entered her parlor,\nwhere she met him with outstretched hands. Looking full into his face\nshe saw there the change of which Annie had written. His eyes shone\nwith a quiet courage, more touching than the wildest despair. It was\nas though he had said, \"My Father has sent me a cross. I will bear it\nmanfully, looking to Him for strength.\"\n\nMarion had been for hours planning how she would break the news\nto the pastor. All was forgotten now. Her voice rang with joy, as she\nsaid,\u2014\n\n\"I have news for you,\u2014good news. I knew your Stella. She gave me\nthis for you. Only this morning I first knew the address.\"\n\nShe put the precious parcel in his hands, adding, \"When you have read\nit, I will come back and tell you of her happy death. Please touch\nthe bell when you are ready.\"\n\nIt was more than an hour before the signal was given. When she\nre-entered the parlor his face bore the marks of deep emotion;\nbut the new light I have described at the beginning of my chapter\nwas shining from it.\n\n\"Have you read this?\" he asked, leading her to a seat, and taking one\nbeside her,\u2014\"No, I do not mean that,\u2014did she tell you?\"\n\n\"When I first found her, she talked of one who had blighted her life.\nShe never named you. I had no idea she alluded to a brother.\nAfter she went to the Home she became a humble Christian, loving and\ntender to every one.\"\n\nHe was struggling hard to control his emotion, but presently said:\n\"How wonderful that, when you were tending her and ministering to her\nwants like a sister, I was within a hundred feet of her, crying and\npraying God so to soften her heart that she might accept His\nforgiving love! How wonderful that my Father, in His wisdom,\nhas withheld this,\" holding up the letters, \"till by His grace\nHe enabled me to say from the heart, 'Thy will be done'!\"\n\n\"And gave me the privilege of restoring to you the last token of her\naffection.\"\n\nAs she spoke, Marion's tears flowed fast. \"Will you thank Him\nfor me?\"\n\nAs they knelt, he poured from a full heart words of praise and\nthanksgiving. He consecrated his life and all its powers anew to the\nservice of the Saviour. He asked that through these events,\nso mysterious, bringing to him, after the lapse of so many years,\nthe knowledge of his sister's acceptance of Christ as her Saviour,\nthey might both be more trustful, resting all their cares upon Him\nwho had done all things well.\n\nAgain and again Mr. Angus asked for reminiscences of his sister.\nAgain and again Marion related in detail the account of their first\nmeeting,\u2014Stella's despair when first told she could not live,\nher removal to the blessed Home, the sermon on forgiveness from the\nchaplain, the arrow of the Spirit which sent it home to her heart,\nthe sweet and abiding peace which followed when she gave up her\nburden of sin and sorrow to Christ.\n\n\"Where is her grave?\" he asked, concealing his face.\n\n\"In Greenwood. I will take you there in the morning, and you will\nwant to see Dr. B- at the Home.\"\n\n\"In what words can I thank you, Miss Howard? You not only befriended\na poor orphan while living, but provided a place for her in that\nlovely home for the dead.\"\n\n\"It was a precious privilege, Mr. Angus.\"\n\nSeizing her hand for a moment, he dropped it suddenly and walked away\nto the window.\n\n\"Tea is served,\" announced James, opening the door.\n\n\"One word, Miss Howard. Will you listen to my story? I want you to\nread my sister's letters. If you will listen to me first, you will\nthen understand the cause she had to consider me her enemy.\"\n\n\"I should consider it a sacred privilege.\"\n\n\"My good Hepsey, Miss Prime, Mr. Angus,\" she added, advancing to the\ntable, where Hepsey sat. \"Mr. Angus is my Grantbury pastor, Ethel's\nfriend,\" she explained, as they took their seats.\n\nAfter grace had been said, the conversation turned naturally to the\nfamily of Mr. Asbury, and especially to Ethel.\n\nAfter a while Mr. Angus asked,\u2014\n\n\"Have you heard from Mrs. Douglass of late?\"\n\n\"Yes, she has revived in a wonderful manner. I intend to visit her as\nsoon as my doctor removes the embargo he has placed on me. He has the\nlowest opinion of my prudence, and imagines me incapable of caution.\"\n\n\"And he is right,\" insisted Hepsey, laughing. \"Once you begin your\nvisits, there is no knowing when they will end, until you are brought\nup again by some other contagious disease.\"\n\n\"I am engaged this evening, James, if any one calls,\" remarked\nMarion, as they rose from the table and returned to the parlor.\n\"Now, Mr. Angus I want to introduce you to my dear friends, Mr. and\nMrs. Mitchell, who have kindly made a home for me.\"\n\nThe conversation for a few moments was of a general character, and\nthen Mrs. Mitchell said,\u2014\n\n\"We should be happy to entertain you to-night, Mr. Angus. James will\nshow you to your room, when you wish to retire.  I will not say\ngood-by, as I shall see you at the breakfast-table.\"\n\nIt was evidently a relief that the restraint of others' presence was\nremoved. The pastor wanted time to realize his new situation,\u2014freed\nfrom the harrowing reminiscences which had so long oppressed him,\u2014\nand especially he wanted to narrate to the dear friend who had done\nso much for him and his sister the actual experiences she now only\nsurmised. He sat quietly following with his eyes her movements as she\nplaced a screen on the gas-shade, moved a vase of flowers to the\ntable, folded a newspaper, and performed those little acts of womanly\nrefinement which make the delight and comfort of a home.\n\n\"May I tell you now,\" he said, softly, as she seated herself opposite\nhim; \"and will you be charitable toward the faults of a wayward\nyouth, as you have been to the failings of the man?\"\n\nHer bright smile encouraged him, and he dashed into his story\nat once.\n\n\"I was born in Doncaster, Yorkshire, twenty-nine years ago.\nTwo years later I had a sister Stella. When I was ten and Stella\neight, my mother died, leaving behind her an infant boy, whom father\nnamed Wilson, for his maternal grandfather. A sister of my father\ncame to keep house, and care for the baby. I might have helped her,\nbut I fear I made her hard task harder. Stella was naturally wilful,\nstrong in her likes and dislikes, capable of the warmest affections.\nShe took little Will, as we always called him, to her heart, and made\nan idol of him.\n\n\"Father never seemed the same after mother's death. I can remember\nhim sitting, his arms folded, lost in his own thoughts and memories\nof the past.\n\n\"I grew up with little restraint. To do myself justice, I pitied\nfather so much that I often went away and wept. I loved Will too;\nbut Stella was jealous if I separated him from her, and I gradually\nlet him alone, except as I wanted to tease her.\n\n\"Occasionally, when I was too abusive, she appealed to father;\notherwise she took Will and shut herself in a room with him, where I\ncould not get at her.\n\n\"In my thirteenth year father woke to the face that I needed\na master. He sent me to a military school, and promised that if I\nwould do my best he would purchase a commission for me in the army.\nI did fairly well in my studies, and went home in my uniform,\ncarrying a prize for good conduct. As I recall my actions at that\ntime, I must have been a great nuisance. Stella told me frankly that\nshe wished I would go back to school and never return. Aunt Sarah was\nalmost beside herself, settling disputes between us. Poor little Will\nused to scream and run away when I went near him, at which I did not\nwonder, for he was taught to consider me an enemy.\n\n\"Father was more feeble than ever, and passed much of his time in his\nchamber. I might have been a comfort to him, but I was not.\n\n\"It was nearly three years before I was allowed to go home again.\nAunt Sarah told me that Stella persuaded father to keep me away.\nI had grown in that time from a boy to a man. My military drill had\nmade me strong and vigorous. I was fond of athletic games, and my\ncompanions thought I excelled in them.  I could hunt and row all day\nlong without fatigue, and was never so happy as when excited by\ncompetition in study or in athletic exercise.\n\n\"But there were hours when I longed for home, for a mother's\nunexacting affection. I accompanied my classmates to their homes and\nwitnessed the mother's pride in her boy, her lavish affection poured\nout on him, notwithstanding his faults. I realized that I should be\nbetter with the incentive of a mother's approbation to spur me on.\n\n\"I was fond of children too, and in my long, enforced absence, I came\nto idealize my little brother. I planned how I would win his\nconfidence, and help him to a happier life than I had had.\n\n\"I was summoned home to father's death-bed. Dear father! When it was\ntoo late, he realized that he had allowed his grief to swallow up\nevery other feeling.  He\u2014asked my forgiveness,\u2014dear father!\"\n\nHis choking voice interrupted the story for a few moments, and\nMarion's moistened eye; showed that her interest was intense.\nAfter pause, he went on,\u2014\n\n\"Father had settled his worldly affairs before my return.\nHis property was not large. It was equally divided between my sister,\nmy brother and myself. Part of mine was to be spent in the purchase\nof a soldier's commission. He lived two days after I reached home.\nI am glad to remember that he forgave me all my waywardness and\nfolly, commending me at the last to the care of my mother's God.\n\n\"This affliction drew Stella and myself together and for a few weeks\nwe lived more peaceably than we ever had done; but she was still\njealous of any interference with Will, so that my dreams of winning\nhis love ended suddenly.\n\n\"I had my gun at home, and Will used to beg Stella to let him go\nwith me. He was continually saying that he would be a soldier when he\nwas a man. He used to look after me as I went out with my gun over my\nshoulder. I gratified him a few times firing at a mark, and then\nI allowed him from the window to see me load my gun.\n\n\"One morning,\u2014oh, how vividly every circumstance comes back to my\nmind! even the fragrance of the white rose-bushes, and the pretty\nhedge all in bloom,\u2014I was unusually aggravated by poor Stella's\nunreasoning jealousy, and I answered with some hard words.\nI reproached her with having made my life miserable. I told her\nI came home resolved to be loving and patient. I reminded her that\nwe were orphans, and ought to love each other; and then, as she\ncalled me some undeserved names, I retorted angrily that I was the\neldest, the proper guardian of the family, and that I would use\nmy authority to take Will from her to prevent his being ruined.\n\n\"Will stood by me, and listened to all the talk. Then, as I angrily\nleft the house, he ran after me and had to be carried back by force.\nI was frightened at the violence of his temper, and, to soothe him,\nsaid,\u2014\n\n\"'If you'll go back, you may play soldier with my gun.' I had fired\nit off in the early morning, and left it standing behind the door.\n\n\"I soon repented of my anger, and was ready as usual to blame myself.\nI will be more patient, I said, over and over again. I had always\ntrusted in my own strength, and of course had failed. I turned back\nand entered the house. Will was alone. Stella, not expecting me,\nhad left him by himself, for a punishment. He looked guiltily in my\nface, and I said, 'Come, let's make up and be friends. I'll teach you\nto be a soldier.'\n\n\"I took the gun and playfully aimed it at him, knowing it was not\nloaded. Alas! alas! There was a loud report, and Will, my poor little\nWill, fell to the floor.\n\n\"My aunt and Stella rushed to the room and found me with the gun in\nmy hand, dumb and immovable with horror. With a shriek I shall never\nforget, Stella caught Will in her arms; but when I approached she\nwaved me off, calling me a murderer, and shouting again and again,\n'I will never forgive you,\u2014never! Never!'\"\n\n\"Aunt Sarah helped move Will to a bed, sent for the doctor, and then,\nbeckoning me into another room, shut the door, and said,\u2014\n\n\"Harold, tell me truly. How did it happen?'\"\n\n\"Somebody loaded the gun after I went out. I thought it was empty.\nI wish it had killed me, instead of my brother.' Six feet tall as\nI was, I laid my head on the table and sobbed like a child.\n\n\"'You must get away from here,' Aunt Sarah said, putting her hand\nsoftly on my head,\u2014the first caress I had had for years.  'Stella is\nwild with anger. Will is dyin and she will say you murdered him.'\"\n\n\"'Where shall I go?' I cried. 'I'm an outcast, like Cain; and yet the\nmoment it happened loved my brother better than I ever did in my\nlife.'\"\n\n\"I was delirious with grief and remorse. I went from the house, and\npassed the night on mother's grave. I can recall little after that\ntime, till found myself on board a vessel bound for the United\nStates. Stella's letter will tell you what happened in the interim.\nWhat comfort the knowledge of those weeks would have been to me all\nthese years, you can scarcely imagine. Will died of the wound\ninflicted by my hand, but not until he had confessed that he had\nloaded the gun while left alone. He called for me continually but\npoor Stella was, as she expresses it, possessed of a devil, and would\nnot send for me. She continually denounced me as a murderer, and Aunt\nSarah had to explain again and again how it had happened.\n\n\"I resolved then and there to leave the money father left me for her\nuse. I was reckless, and did not desire to live.\n\n\"As you will read in her letter, Stella says that she saw me at the\nfuneral, and almost repented when she perceived how changed I was.\nI have not the slightest recollection of being there.\n\n\"I landed in Charleston, S. C., and made my way to Philadelphia,\nwhere I found the means of living while I pursued my studies. I gave\nup military life, and thought I should be content if I could fit\nmyself for an editor of a paper. I was in an editor's office in\nNew York, when I was seized with fever and carried to the Home for\nthe Sick. I came away with new aims, and only longed to benefit some\npoor afflicted ones as I had been benefited there. You know the rest.\nI studied three years at the seminary, working among the poor\nmeanwhile, and had just begun to preach when I was requested\nto supply the pulpit for a pastor who had been my most faithful\nadviser. I was called to Grantbury, and accepted the call. How nearly\nI retracted my acceptance, weighed down with a sense of my unfitness\nfor the work, how I besought God with strong crying and tears to\nappear for me and let me know His will, no on but He knows.\n\n\"There are poor Stella's letters. I have blamed her, but not half so\nmuch as she blames herself.\"\n\nMarion covered her face with her handkerchief. The story was sad\nindeed.\n\n\"Perhaps I have done wrong to tell you all this,\" he urged, rising\nand walking the room. \"You are the only confident I ever had.\"\n\n\"No, no, not wrong. I thank you. If deal Stella could only have lived\nto tell you herself how fully she forgave you, how earnestly she\nlonged for your forgiveness!\"\n\n\"At first,\" added Mr. Angus, \"I used to pity myself; but when I had\nreceived forgiveness of my heavenly Father, my pity was for her.\nI remembered that the unforgiving cannot receive forgiveness of God.\nI felt that my life was rendered desolate, but I was willing\nto receive that as a chastisement. My prayer was, 'Lord, let her\nforgive that she may be forgiven.' The idea of her suffering from\npoverty never occurred to me. Of late, when I have witnessed the\nhappiness of home life,\u2014fathers and mothers with their children\ngrowing up around them,\u2014I have thought that, had my life been\ndifferent, I might have been blessed with a paradise of a home.\"\n\n\"All the sadness is over now,\" murmured Marion, softly.\n\n\"Do you think a man with such a past as mine has a right to ask any\none to share his future?\"\n\nWhat Marion might have answered had there not been a knock at the\ndoor, I cannot tell. James entered, and carried to his mistress\na note on a salver.\n\n\"I told you I could see no one to-night.\"\n\n\"Yes, miss, but the messenger persists. He's from the Home for the\nSick.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nSTELLA'S CONFESSION.\n\nMRS. ASBURY was sitting at work in her room when she heard the outer\ndoor open and a quick step on the stairs.\n\n\"Who can that be?\" she asked, somewhat surprised.\n\n\"No one but Mr. Angus has a key, ma.\"\n\n\"He never steps like that, Annie.  Open the door and see.\"\n\nBefore she could do so, the step came down again and Mr. Angus came\ninto the sitting-room holding out his hand as he greeted them.\n\nBoth mother and daughter started up to meet him, and Ethel, hearing\nhis voice, came running in, and stood for a moment gazing in wonder.\nIn her childish way she gave expression to their thoughts.\n\n\"It's a new Mr. Angus.\"\n\n\"Yes, it is, darling,\" he said, catching her in his arms.  \"That\nother Mr. Angus has gone away, and I hope never to see him any more.\"\n\nTurning to Mrs. Asbury, he said, \"God has been very good to me, and\nsent me the best of news from an absent friend. I have long mourned\nher as dead; now I learn that she died in faith, trusting in the\nblood of Christ to wash away all her sins.\"\n\n\"I am truly glad for you,\" was her earnest reply.\n\n\"The intelligence I have received renders it necessary for me to go\nto England for a short time. I want to ask your husband's advice\nconcerning arrangements for my pulpit during my absence.\"\n\n\"How long shall you be away?\"\n\n\"Probably three months.\"\n\n\"You have six weeks' vacation. Why not include those, and get a\nsupply for the rest?\"\n\n\"Thank you for the suggestion. It is my wish to leave as soon as\npossible.\"\n\nThis was all the explanation he gave as to the change in his conduct,\na change recognized by every one in the parish. His voice, his step,\nhis manner, were cheerful even to buoyancy. His smile was more\nfrequent, and had lost forever the sadness which formerly often\naccompanied it.\n\nThe very boys in the street watched and wondered. Formerly, when he\npassed the play-ground, he gazed at them, but in so serious a manner\nthat they felt almost guilty; now it was very different. He stood one\nday at the entrance to a large field, given up to the use of the boys\nfor base-ball, watching the game with great interest.\n\n\"No, that is not the way,\" he shouted at last, leaping at one bound\nover the high fence. \"This was the way when I was a boy.\"  He gave\nthe ball a kick, which sent it to the farther corner of the field,\nand stood laughing at the loud cheers which rent the air, then\nsaying,\u2014\n\n\"Play fair, boys; cheating don't pay,\" he gave another leap and\npassed on, taking off his hat and waving it high in the air as they\ncheered again.\n\nA supply for the pulpit was readily obtained from a theological\nschool, and passage engaged in a Cunarder; but, as the reader may not\nunderstand the necessity which called him to leave Grantbury, I will\ntake the liberty to insert here extracts from the letters in the\nrecovered package.\n\nThese were now in the hands of Marion, and he was to receive them\nwhen he went to New York to take the steamer. It is unnecessary to\nsay that the young lady, having listened to the story of the brother,\ndevoted her first leisure to reading the confession of the sister.\n\nThe very first lines deeply moved her, recalling, as she did, Stella\nbolstered up in her bed at the Home as she wrote, her curtain drawn\nclosely to shut out the sight of her companions.\n\nThe letter began:\u2014\n\nIf I have a brother, and these words ever meet his eyes, let him read\nthem as coming from one who has deeply sinned against him, but who\nhas also deeply repented.\n\nJudge her as charitably as you can, my brother, even as I trust God\nwill judge me; and remember that my prayers have gone up to God\ncontinually for you, and my loving thoughts reach far away across the\nwaters, where, if still among the living, I suppose you are now.\n\n\"How strange!\" reflected Marion, \"that when she wrote that her\nbrother was in an adjoining ward, and that one minute's walk would\nhave taken him to her side.\"\n\nLater.\u2014I had to lay aside my pen and rest, and now my hands tremble\nwith weakness; but justice to one who has never received justice at\nmy hands urges me to make my confession. Harold, I cannot remember\nthe time when I did not feel jealous of you. As a child, you were\nloving in nature, winning your way without effort to every heart.\nYou were mother's pet and pride. Father could scarcely see a fault\nin his big, brave, and beautiful boy. When Aunt Sarah came, all that\nI could say to prejudice her against you had no effect. She loved and\ntrusted you. She said you would love me if I would let you. She said\nfew had so forgiving a nature. She tried to persuade me to be at\npeace and allow Will, my idol, to love you. I will say that when we\nused to walk into church, I was proud of you. All my companions\nenvied me and my brother. This made me hate you more than ever.\nIf you had been plain and unattractive, I think it would have been\ndifferent with me,\u2014but perhaps not, for my heart was full of envy\nand jealousy. Now you know the secret of all my conduct. I was\npossessed with a devil and, instead of trying to cast him out,\nI cherished him.\n\nHarold, before you reached home to see father die he begged me\nto love you as I loved Will. He gave Will into your special care.\nHe wrote you a loving letter, telling you his plans and wishes\nfor your future, that he left the care of Will's education and his\nlittle property to you. If he died, it was to be yours. If you died,\nWill was to inherit what you left. How I hated him for this! I had\na legacy from Aunt Mary which, with my share, would be enough for me,\nhe said. How I hated him for writing this! The breath had scarcely\nleft his body before I tore the paper to pieces. Will you forgive\nme, brother?\n\nLater.\u2014I must hasten on, for my life is fast drawing to a close,\nand I have that to tell you which will relieve you of a great sorrow,\n\u2014I mean in regard to the last dreadful scene at home. Tears stream\nfrom my eyes as I remember your patience with me, your efforts to win\nmy sisterly love. Oh how one expression of yours has rung in my\nmemory!\n\n\"Sister Stella, why won't you let me love you? I will try to please\nyou, and we might be so happy?\" Oh, why! why!\n\nYou asked Will to go to walk.  He started, and I ran and forced him\nback. To punish him, I shut him up in the room, forgetting that you\nhad placed your gun behind the door. In my insane terror I charged\nyou with murdering him, Harold. Before he died he confessed that he\nhad loaded it,\u2014put in the very bullet that was to end his life.\nHarold, can you forgive me when I say that I knew this when I saw you\nat his funeral, and did not tell you? Yes, when I saw you so changed\nthat I scarcely recognized you, I kept his dying messages, which\nwould have relieved your sorrow. I charged you with being his\nmurderer, but no one believed me. Aunt Sarah did you justice. She\ntold every one you loved the boy, and that he loved you,\u2014that it\nwas an accident. After Will confessed that he loaded the gun,\nshe repeated this to every one. You were pitied, and I, who so\nidolized the boy, was looked on with suspicion. Even Aunt Sarah told\nme that I had ruined Will by indulgence, or he would never have\ntouched the gun contrary to your orders. I hated her for saying it,\nbut I knew that what she said was true.\n\nLater.\u2014I am already relieved by my confession, and, as I feel\nstronger this morning, I will write while I can. I shall commit this\nto the care of a dear friend, who first led me to hope for pardon\nthrough Christ. I can never tell any one how much she has been to me.\nBeautiful, accomplished, and rich, she devotes herself and all she\nhas to the divine work of winning others to her Saviour.\nDear brother, I wish you could meet such a friend. If you have never\nsought Christ let a sister's dying words prevail. His love is more\nprecious than all the world beside. If I, with all my load of guilt\ncan receive forgiveness, no one need despair. I told you I would\nnever forgive you. One day I heard a sermon from the young chaplain\nof the Home, where I was staying. He repeated the words of our\nSaviour, \"If ye forgive not men their trespasses,\" etc., and\nexplained the wretched, despairing condition of those who cherish\na spirit of unforgiveness.\n\nEvery word applied to my case. The gracious spirit of God carried\nhome the truth to my heart, and helped me to accept his conditions\nof mercy. The whole room seemed filled with light. Never had I\nconceived such joy, such peace, as flowed in upon my soul.\nFrom trying to invent excuses for my own base conduct, I saw myself\nthe vilest of the vile.  I realize now that murder had been in my\nheart,\u2014murder of a brother. I love you now. I wonder at your\nforbearance when I reproached you. How pityingly you used to gaze\non me! I seem to see your eyes now,\u2014eyes like our mother's,\nso sweet, so sad,\u2014looking into mine as though you would say,\n\"Stella, I want to love you. Why can't we be at peace?\" O Harold,\nmy brother, would that I could see you once more and ask your\nforgiveness!  Aunt Sarah often said that I had driven you from home\nand friends. It is true. I grieve over it, and have asked God\nto forgive me. I pray that we may meet in heaven: you will forgive me\nthere.\n\nBefore I close, I must tell you that immediately after Will's death\nI went home with Aunt Sarah, and remained till she died. In the bank\nwhere father left your money, you will find my share and Will's.\nI have never drawn one pound.  I could not, as I had made it over\nto you. My legacy has sufficed. I want you to accept mine (Will's is\nyours by right) from a sister who has learned not only to love but to\nadmire you. I found letters from your teachers in the military school\nto father. They wrote of you in the highest terms. Father used to\nread them over and over. I did not see them till after his death.\n\nOne favor I would like to ask.  If you ever receive this, will you\nrepay the faithful friend I have mentioned the amount she has\nexpended for my lot in Greenwood,\u2014she has promised to follow me\nthere,\u2014and any other expense incurred for my sickness beyond the\n$60 I leave in my purse?\n\nLater.\u2014The end is drawing near. I am not afraid: Christian friends\nare about me.  My own loved Marion will be here presently, and will\nnot leave me till Jesus, my Saviour calls me home. I have an\nassurance this morning that my prayers for you will be answered.\nWe shall meet father and mother and all our loved ones in heaven.\nFarewell, dear Harold, farewell!\n\nAfternoon.\u2014God has seen fit to keep me here a little longer. I have\nnot told you that I came to America two years ago,\u2014after Aunt\nSarah's death. I was in a boarding house with an acquaintance from\nhome, and taught music when a sudden cold settled on my lungs.\nMiss Howard heard me sing once at a party given by one of my pupils\nand afterward called when she learned I was sick.  She is a great\nlover of music. She has been such a friend to me as I cannot\ndescribe. This Home for the Sick has proved a paradise to many.\nThank God, who sent me here. Once more, brother, farewell! Meet me\nin heaven.\n\nSTELLA ANGUS.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nTHE CRIPPLED BOY.\n\nDURING Marion's call at the Home for the Sick in company with the\npastor, they examined the record of patients, etc., and related\nto Dr. B\u2014 the singular circumstance of the brother and sister,\nnatives of another country, being there at the same time, each\nlonging to find the other, and remaining unknown. There were the\nnames and dates fully recorded:\u2014\n\n\"Men's Medical Ward, Harold Angus, New York, aged twenty-four.\nDisease, typhoid fever. Entered March 7, 18\u2014. Discharged cured\nJune 20, 18\u2014. Address of friends, Mr. James Whitney, New York City.\"\n\n\"Women's Medical Ward, Stella Angus, Doncaster, England, aged\ntwenty-two. Second admittance. Disease, consumption. Entered\nMay 2, 18\u2014. Died June 4, 18\u2014. Place of burial, Greenwood. Address of\nfriends, Miss Mary Angus, Leyden, England.\"\n\n\"I recollect perfectly,\" remarked Dr. B\u2014, \"that Stella, as we called\nher,\u2014from Miss Howard introducing her by that name,\u2014often spoke\nto the chaplain and to the nurses of one whom she had injured, and\nthat she wished to atone for it. I never heard, Mr. Angus, that you\nmentioned her name.\"\n\n\"I never did. I supposed her to be in England. I can only believe\nthat God, for His own wise purpose, kept the knowledge of her\ntriumphant death from me till I could say, in regard to all His\ndealings, 'Thy will be done.'\"\n\nFrom the Home they drove at once to Greenwood. The lot was small and\ninexpensive, but it had been well cared for, and the grave, covered\nwith myrtle, was green and beautiful.\n\nMarion led the way to the spot and then retired to a distance,\nleaving the mourner alone with his sorrow. Not yet did she know how\ndeeply Stella had injured her brother, and so she could not\nappreciate, as she did afterward, the abandonment of his grief as he\nfell on the grave, saying,\u2014\n\n\"My sister! My sister! Is it thus we meet?\"\n\nStill, as she walked away, with bent head and fast-falling tears,\nshe repeated to herself the familiar quotation,\u2014\n\n\"To err is human, to forgive, divine.\"\n\nAt the head of the grave Marion had caused a simple stone to be\nerected, with merely these words,\u2014\n\nSTELLA.\n\nASLEEP IN JESUS.\n\nAs they were turning to leave the sacred spot, he pointed to it,\nand tried to utter the words,\u2014\n\n\"Thank you,\" but his voice choked.\n\nNow, he in whom she had taken so deep an interest, whose happiness\nhad for a time been so intimately interwoven with her own, had sailed\nfor England. He had made a hasty call, on his return from Grantbury,\nand received from her the precious letters assuring him of his\nsister's affection. He had seemed ill at ease when she thanked him\nfor allowing her to peruse them, pressed her hand warmly as he bade\nher farewell, took his hat from the table in the hall then suddenly\nthrew it down again, exclaiming,\u2014\n\n\"I cannot leave you without saying, if we never meet again, I shall\ndie blessing you for your goodness to Stella and to me. Miss Howard,\nyou have opened a new future before me. You\u2014but I cannot,\u2014I ought\nnot to say more. Will you add one favor to the many I have received\nat your hands? Will you answer a letter from me? May I tell you of my\nvisit to my native land, to the graves of my parents?\"\n\nHe fixed his eyes full on hers, which at last fell before the ardor\nof his gaze, while she answered frankly,\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Angus, for Stella's sake and for your own, I shall be very glad\nto hear from you. My time will be spent among my poor. If I find\nanything to interest you, I will certainly write in answer to yours.\"\n\nMarion was practical rather than sentimental, and she plunged into\nthe business of life as though nothing more than usual had occurred.\n\nIn one day, she visited Mary Falkner at the Home, gave music lessons\nto four pupils, went with Hepsey nearly a mile to inquire for one of\nher mission boys, and brought home for evening work one of the rolls\nfrom the mission chapel, in order to stencil an additional hymn\nupon it.\n\nStill, wherever she went, however employed her thoughts were with\na lonely traveller whom the waves were every hour carrying farther\nand farther away. While driving, with Hepsey by her side, through the\nthronged thoroughfares, or sitting at her own well-spread board, the\nquestion constantly recurred: \"Why did he say, 'if we never meet\nagain'? Does he not expect to return?\" Then her pulse beat more\nwarmly as she recalled the expression of his eye, and added, \"I know\nhe hoped we should meet again.\"\n\nIn the morning Mr. Lambert called, and found her leaning over the\nlarge table in the dining room, printing with the stencil plate the\nhymn, work which company had obliged her to postpone the previous\nevening.\n\nHe had scarcely taken his seat before he began to scold her.\n\n\"You ought to have a guardian,\" he began, in loud voice. \"Pale as\nashes,\u2014taking work out of the printer's hands, too. Well, they may\nstarve for all I care. World upside down, as usual.\"\n\n\"Will you please help me roll this?\" asked Marion, turning an arch,\nsmiling face full upon him. \"It must be held very tight, or it will\nwrinkle. Mr. Lambert, why don't you help me in my mission school?\"\n\n\"Help\u2014mission school\u2014insane idea\u2014couldn't get any scholars\u2014\npretty teacher, indeed!\" He grumbled away for some time to himself,\nand finally ended with a fit of laughter. \"All nonsense,\u2014throwing\naway money on bummers, stuff and nonsense\u2014embryo thieves and\nmurderers.\" He walked to the window, pretended to be examining the\nflowers in the conservatory, pulled out his purse and quickly\nconcealed a bill in his hand just as Marion, who had finished her\nwork, said, pleasantly,\u2014\n\n\"You needn't try to deceive me with your grumbling: I found you out\nlong ago. You would go a mile any time to carry food to the hungry,\nonly you would want the privilege of scolding them afterwards.\"\n\nThe eccentric old gentleman hung his head, too much confused even to\ngrumble at her.\n\n\"How guilty you look!\" laughed Marion. \"You took me in, once upon a\ntime.\"\n\n\"Aye! aye! Frightened you well, that's some comfort.\"\n\n\"I don't think I was much frightened, though I confess I considered\nyour manner rather rough. I recollect well that I pitied you for\nbeing so suspicious of everybody.\"\n\nHe sprang from the floor, shouting,\u2014\n\n\"Suspicious, eh? Suspicious, is it? Pitied me, did you? If any one\nelse had dared,\u2014well, I'm an old fool, anyway.\"\n\nHe sat down and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, looking so\npale and hurt that Marion pitied him more than ever. She drew a chair\nclose to his side and said, soothingly,\u2014\n\n\"Now that we understand each other, I want to tell you a story,\u2014\na true one. You know Hepsey and I go out sometimes to see our friends\nin the back alleys.\"\n\n\"Humph! Yes,\u2014and bring home fevers, and all that.\"\n\n\"One day I heard a woman crying,\u2014and true enough she had cause.\nHer boy had been crushed by a wheel which ran over his legs;\nand there he lay on a pile of straw, in a fainting fit. I tried\nto bring him to while Hepsey went for an ambulance, and we soon had\nhim in the care of the doctor, on his way to the hospital. Hepsey and\nI followed with the mother. To make a long story short, the injury\nwas so great that Neddy\u2014that's his name\u2014had both his legs\namputated just above the knees, and he is well again. Now the\nquestion is, What can he do to earn his living? He's a dear, patient\nlittle fellow, and he has made friends of everybody at the hospital.\nOne of the doctors has given me five dollars for\u2014\"\n\nMr. Lambert threw down his cane, and pulled out his purse again.\n\n\"No, I don't want money now, I want advice. He can't earn his living\nyet awhile; but what can he be fitted for?\"\n\n\"I'll get him a place in a printing-office.\" In his excitement,\nMr. Lambert forgot to grumble.  His voice was natural and agreeable.\n\n\"Just the thing! But isn't he too young,\u2014he's only nine?\"\n\n\"That's a fault easily cured. He must be put into the Five Points\nMission School till he's twelve,\u2014learn to read and spell, and all\nthat sort of thing. Where is he?\"\n\n\"In the hospital. Will you go with me to see him?\"\n\n\"Certainly not.  Why should I go? I've nothing to do with it,\nany way. You wanted advice and I gave it,\u2014that's all. Don't be\nnonsensical now,\" putting another bill stealthily on the table.\n\"What did you say the fellow's name is?\"\n\n\"Neddy Carter. He isn't strong enough to be carried to that old,\ntumble-down attic, and so I have engaged a friend to take him home\nwith her till he can have his artificial legs made. That's what the\ndoctor subscribed five dollars for.\"\n\n\"Wooden legs, eh! That's the plan, is it? Five dollars! Tell this\ndoctor to mind his own business. I know a man\u2014that is, he owes me\u2014\nthat is, he will owe me\u2014a bill, and I'll get the legs out of him\u2014\nsee if I don't. I'll\"\u2014grumbling. \"Well, I'm going. I don't find\nyour story very entertaining. It's lucky I'm forgetful: shan't know\nanything about it to-morrow. Good-day, Miss Howard. Don't make a fool\nof yourself more than you can help.\"\n\nHe caught his cane and was crossing the room when he saw the bill he\nhad first taken from his pocket and forgotten lying on the floor.\n\n\"Pretty way to use good money,\" he said, with a sneer, pointing to\nit. \"With all your teaching business, you'll never get rich that way,\nMiss Howard.\"\n\n[Illustration: MARION AND THE CRIPPLED BOY. Page 207]\n\n\"I saw that bill drop from your hand, sir.\" Marion laughed till all\nher dimples came into play. \"But you can't have it,\" she insisted,\nas she saw his look of disappointment at being found out. \"You've\nforfeited the right to it, and I shall add it to my fund for Neddy.\"\n\n\"Pretty sharp practice that,\" he grumbled, looking intensely\nrelieved. \"Well, good-day to you.\"\n\nThe next time Marion went to the hospital a singular circumstance\noccurred,\u2014a circumstance which unravelled for her quite a mystery.\n\nShe inquired for Neddy Carter, and was allowed to proceed at once\nto the convalescent ward. The boy was sitting in a low chair, which\nhe had learned to wheel about with great rapidity. As soon as he saw\nher, his face brightened, and before he could reach her side\nhe shouted,\u2014\n\n\"Miss Howard! Miss Howard! Mr. Regy's been here!\"\n\n\"And he's such a funny man,\" said one of the older boys.\n\n\"I wish I had seen him,\" was Marion's answer. \"What did he come for?\"\n\n\"To see me. He was awful cross at first, and scolded me for getting\nunder the wheel like sixty; but I know him, and he's real good for\nall that; and I like him; and when I told him I didn't get under the\nwheel on purpose he gave me this,\" pulling a silver dollar from his\npocket. \"Will you please take it to help buy my wooden legs?\"\n\n\"No, indeed; those will be ready when the doctor says you can wear\nthem.\"\n\n\"Mr. Regy says I'm to be a printer,\" continued the boy, fixing his\nlarge brown eyes on hers; \"and I'm to go to school at the\nFive Points, and learn to read and spell, and by-and-by, he says,\nthere's no knowing but I may be a great man, and print newspapers.\"\n\nMarion started. This was Mr. Lambert's plan. Had he told Mr. Regy\nof it?\n\n\"How does Mr. Regy look?\" This inquiry was addressed to one of the\nnurses, who was passing.\n\n\"Very oddly,\" she replied, laughing. \"He's about fifty or sixty years\nold, very gray hair, which he wears long, floating over his\nshoulders.\"\n\nMarion laughed too as she said, \"I've often heard of him, but I never\nsaw him.\"\n\nMr. Lambert was over sixty; but his hair, naturally light, had not\nturned gray, and was cut short to his head.\n\n\"He stoops a little,\" added the nurse, \"and makes frightful faces.\nSome of the little ones were afraid of him, but before he went away\nhe coaxed them to sit in his lap and put their hands in his pockets,\nwhere they found nuts and raisins and candy in abundance. A lady came\nin to see a little cripple, and as she passed him surrounded by a\ngroup of them, Neddy's chair rolled as close as he could get it,\nshe remarked, smiling, 'It's a blessed work, sir.'\"\n\n\"Mr. Regy had not seen her before, and he started to his feet,\nlooking very angry.\n\n\"'Troublesome little brats!' he shouted, pushing them away.\"\n\n\"Just like Mr. Lambert,\" was Marion's reflection. \"How very strange\nthere should be two such men!\"\n\nJust then she noticed that several of the boys were putting their\nheads together, whispering and gesturing as they looked toward her.\nPresently one came forward, and asked, timidly,\u2014\n\n\"Will you please sing us a tune, Miss Howard?\"\n\n\"How do you know I can sing?\" she asked, with one of her brightest\nsmiles.\n\n\"I heard you at the mission Sunday school. I'm Maurice Long, what\nused to be sent to the back seat for being allus in mischief.\"\n\nMaurice looked anything but humble, as he confessed his faults.\n\n\"Why, Maurice!\" exclaimed Marion, holding out her hand. \"You have\ngrown so much I did not know you,\u2014and you are so pale, too.\"\n\n\"Yes, miss. Me and another boy got into a fight, and I had my head\nsmashed in, and the p'lice brought me here. I'm going out next week.\"\n\n\"O Maurice!\"\n\nMarion was interrupted by several voices shouting, \"He'd fight agin,\nma'am. He'd oughter. It was ter save a feller littler than him.\nHurrah for Maurice!\"\n\n\"How was it, Nurse? I want to hear the story.\"\n\n\"Maurice had a chance to earn a dime carrying a bundle for a\ngentleman from the cars. A little fellow came along, leading a poor,\nhalf-starved dog of which he seemed very fond. Just then a big bully\nof a boy met them, and began to tease the dog. When his owner timidly\nbegged to be let alone, the bully flew at him, and then Maurice\nthought it time to interfere. He caught the bully by the hair, and\nwould not let go till he was terribly bruised. A policeman came up\nand arrested both the boys, just as Maurice fainted from loss of\nblood. The gentleman had seen the whole fight from beginning to end,\nand he followed the bully to the court-room and gave his testimony,\nand called Maurice a hero.\"\n\n\"And a good fighter, too,\" added Maurice, who had stood by, listening\nto all with a kind of proud humility.\n\n\"I am glad you were not fighting to defend your own rights,\" said\nMarion, approvingly. \"But who was the gentleman?\"\n\n\"He gave his name as Lambert,\" said the nurse. \"There is a very\ncurious sequel to the story,\" she added, in a low tone, as they\nturned away.\n\n\"Mr. Lambert came here twice before Maurice was well enough to know\nhim, and showed a good deal of anxiety till he was out of danger,\ngrowling to himself that he ought to have stopped the fight earlier.\nHe gave the doctor some money for Maurice when he goes away; but the\nboy knows nothing of that yet. When Mr. Lambert saw Maurice\nhe scolded him well; said a street fighter was a mean fellow and\nought to be arrested, and hoped he should never hear of his street\nbrawls again.\n\n\"His voice was so loud that some of the little ones began to cry,\nbut Maurice spoke up rather saucily,\u2014\n\n\"I'd fight for you, sir, to-morrow, if you was hit. I know you're\njolly, for all your scolding.'\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Marion, laughing heartily, \"what did Mr. Lambert say\nto that?\"\n\n\"Not a word that we could understand. He went away with his\nhandkerchief to his face, but when he reached the street he shook\nall over with laughter.\"\n\n\"Shall I sing for the children now?\"\n\n\"They will be delighted to hear you.\"\n\nStanding in the midst of the ward, with the little ones pressing\nto her side, Marion sang the sweet melody set to the words,\u2014\n\n\"Will you come where the sweet-briar grows,\nWhere the heath flower blossoms around?\nWill you come where the hyacinth blows,\nAnd the daisy just peeps from the ground?\nThere's a bower by the side of yon lake,\n'Tis the chosen abode of the rose;\nWhere the wings of the linnet awake\nThe leaves from their calm repose.\"\n\nEvery word was distinctly enunciated, and the children, with bated\nbreath and sparkling eyes, proved their appreciation by calling out,\n\"More! Please, Miss Howard, sing more.\" Smiling, she gave them the\nmocking-bird, which was followed by shouts of applause.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nA MYSTERY SOLVED.\n\nMISS HOWARD was leaving the hospital when she met the doctor\nin charge, who invited her to his private parlor, as he wished\nto consult her in regard to her prot\u00e9g\u00e9 Neddy Carter.\n\n\"I suppose you are acquainted with Mr. Regy,' he said. \"He knew your\nwishes about the boy.\"\n\n\"I know him well by report,\" she answered, \"but I have never seen\nhim.\"\n\n\"Indeed! He is certainly the most eccentric individual I ever met.\nBenevolent and tender-hearted to an extreme, he seems to me like a\nman who has learned to mistrust humanity so generally that he hides\nevery evidence of weakness as carefully as though it were a crime.\nWhy, the good deeds that man does almost defy belief.\"\n\n\"I can easily credit your statement, doctor. In my visits to my poor\nfriends, I am constantly hearing of him. I have known of his paying\nrent for a widow who had a sick daughter, month after month, and at\nthe same time providing her with medicines and food. Yet he would\ntalk to her about her untidyness till he made her cry; and then he\nwould go away grumbling that all he could say did no good.\"\n\n\"I heard some facts concerning his eccentricities from a gentleman\nwho owns the place next his in the country,\" continued the doctor,\n\"which, if they had not come to me from the best authority I would\nnot credit; but my friend vouches for the facts.\n\n\"Near them lives a woman whose husband was killed on the railroad.\nShe has two young children, is pleasing in appearance, but wanting\nin force. They had always lived in comfort, on the wages her husband\nearned. When he was killed, she seemed crushed with grief.\nThe neighbors made up a purse for her, and Mr. Regy, who had given\ngenerously, was requested to carry it to her. He learned that she\nowned her small cottage, to which a barn was attached, but had no\nmoney. He found she had no idea of earning her own living, but when\nhe proposed that the children be sent to the asylum, and she go out\nto work in a mill or family, she cried herself into hysterics,\ncalling him a cruel, hard-hearted brute for proposing it, wished he\nwould go away and never come again.\n\n\"This is all my friend learned from Mr. Regy, who denounced her\nas ungrateful, unnatural as a mother, a pest to society.\nHer neighbors supposed, of course, he gave her up; but he never did,\nfor a day. He went and berated her till he quite roused her into\naction; and finally she said she had been brought up on a farm,\nand knew how to make butter and cheese.\n\n\"'What good will that do you?' he asked her, with a sneer. 'Where\nare your cows, to make butter from?'\"\n\n\"It was some time before she learned what a true friend he was;\nbut two excellent milkers found their way to her barn, and, in time,\npans and a churn. Then she complained that she was sure she never\ncould sell her butter and pot-cheese and cried a whole day at the\nscolding he gave her. To make a long story short, he sold all her\nbutter and cheese for her at the highest price, taking the basket\non his own arm, and carrying it to the houses of the regular\ncustomers. A lady on Forty-Second Street told my friend that he\nbrought butter there regularly every week for more than a year.\nShe supposed it was from his own farm; and she has a pile of his\nreceipts signed M. Regy. Once she remonstrated in person with him\nfor his high prices, when he flew into such a rage that she never\ndared approach the subject again.\"\n\n\"Very, very strange,\" remarked Marion.  \"I have a friend who is\nextremely odd and uncouth in manner, but is always doing kindnesses\nfor the poor. His name is Lambert. In many respects your description\nof Mr. Regy would answer for both.\"\n\n\"Do you refer to Mr. M. R. Lambert, a rich old bachelor?  Why, I\nalways thought him the most sarcastic, sour, crusty, old man in my\nacquaintance.\"\n\n\"Only in manner, doctor. He possesses the milk of human kindness in\nan uncommon degree. He is a second Mr. Regy. I am confident that any\nsum of money I would consent to ask him for in behalf of my prot\u00e9g\u00e9s\nwould not be refused; and all the time he would be grumbling that it\nwas good money thrown away on a thankless class of vagrants.\"\n\n\"What is Mr. Lambert's full address,\" inquired the doctor, rising in\nan excited manner.\n\n\"M. R. Lambert are his initials. I have scores of his cards.\"\n\n\"Regy is, I believe, his middle name, and he uses it for a nom de\nplume. It can scarcely be credited that there would be two so similar\nin their eccentricities. I am almost sure of it.\"\n\n\"Then he must disguise himself: Mr. Lambert's hair is short, and only\nbeginning to turn gray.\"\n\n\"A gray wig is easy to procure. What can be his motive?\"\n\n\"It is difficult to conceive, Doctor. I have sometimes imagined that\nMr. Lambert had a motive in so constantly visiting the poorer\nclasses; but it is only a suspicion. I feel sure, if it were true,\nit would do honor to the kindness of the man. I told him the story\nof Neddy Carter's injury. He entered into it with great interest,-\nsaid he would get him a place in a printing-office and was almost\nangry that any one else had thought of purchasing artificial legs for\nthe boy.\"\n\n\"Just what I wished to tell you from Mr. Regy. They are one and the\nsame. Mr. Regy I shall continue to call him. See, here is the address\nhe gave me.\"\n\n\"M. REGY, P.O. BOX 1009.\"\n\nOn her way home, Marion's thoughts were absorbed in trying to solve\nthe motives which could govern such a man as Mr. Lambert, and induce\nhim to figure in so many different characters; for the more she\nreflected the more she felt assured that he and Mr. Regy were the\nsame. It might be that some early disappointment had thus twisted and\ngnarled a naturally lovely character.  It might be that some one\nhe had once loved and trusted had betrayed his confidence, and thus\nrendered him suspicious of all mankind. She resolved to watch him\nclosely, and to endeavor to lighten his burden, whatever it might be.\n\nApproaching her own door, she perceived a carriage standing there.\nWith her thoughts still on the discovery she had made, she ran up the\nsteps and encountered Eugene Cheriton struggling in the arms of\nJames, who had been told to take him back to his mother in the\nparlor.\n\nThe boy readily yielded to her wish, and went upstairs with her,\nwhere she was both surprised and pleased to find not only\nMrs. Cheriton but Mrs. Douglass awaiting her arrival.\n\nThe latter lady seemed to have taken out a new lease of life, since\nher return to the city. She acknowledged that she liked New York,\nand should leave it with reluctance.\n\n\"I hope you do not intend to leave it,\" urged Marion.\n\nThe lady glanced anxiously at her daughter before she answered.\n\"Necessity may compel us to do so.\"\n\nMrs. Cheriton's countenance had no reflection of her mother's\nanxiety. She sat as usual, with her handsome head thrown a little\nback, her large, black eyes lustrous as ever, her lips wreathed\nin the same set smile; but there seemed no soul in her face.\nShe appeared to have wrapped herself in a veil, which, in Marion's\npresence, had never been lifted for one instant.\n\nEugene, beautiful and restless as ever, ran here and there\nunrestrained, demanding the reason for this or that, preventing\nso effectually any attempt at conversation that Marion, who wished\nfor an opportunity to talk with Mrs. Douglass, at last persuaded her\nto remain for the day, insisting that she herself had no engagements\nwhich would interfere with the pleasure of such a visit.\n\n\"While you are taking your siesta,\" she urged, \"I can go to my\npupils; and then we will have quiet chat, or drive in the park,\nas you prefer.\"\n\n\"This is just the opportunity I have long desired,\" remarked Mrs.\nDouglass, as after an hour's rest she had partaken of a nice lunch,\nand was seated in Marion's most comfortable chair. \"I want to tell\nyou some facts in my early life which will account for my being here\nin America.\"\n\n\"I shall feel honored by your confidence,\" returned Marion, gazing\nwith affection into the still beautiful face, so like and yet unlike\nher daughter's. \"Let me bring my crocheting, and we can be as cosey\nas we please.\"\n\n\"I told Mr. Angus some things about our history. He may have repeated\nthem to you.\"\n\n\"Not a word, dear lady,\" bending over her work to conceal the rosy\nhue which colored her cheeks at the mention of his name.\n\n\"I told him, that, although Juliette and myself are living alone,\nwe are neither of us widows,\u2014at least we are not knowingly such,\u2014\nbut let me go back to early days.\n\n\"My father was an Englishman, and in his thirty-first year was sent\nto Spain as minister from the court of England. He was stationed at\nMadrid, where he met my mother, daughter of a nobleman in that city.\nThe liking between them was mutual, and ended in marriage after an\nacquaintance of a few months. I have heard it said that seldom had\na couple so distinguished for beauty, and every charm which makes\nlife desirable, been witnessed in our proud old city.\n\n\"A year after their marriage a son was born, who was named Henreich,\nfor my maternal grandfather. Three years later I appeared on the\nscene. As no other children followed, and we were the only\ngrandchildren on the mother's side, you can easily imagine that our\nwishes, whims, and caprices ruled the entire household.\n\n\"Henreich, beautiful, bold, wilful, and unrestrained, became at last\na terror to both parents and servants. To me only was he loving and\ngentle; but even when in a fury of rage, he would yield to my\nentreaties and tears. I need not say that he was my idol. I loved him\nas sister never loved brother before. What I suffered when, unable\nlonger to endure the anxieties and terror which his bold daring\ncontinually occasioned my parents, he was sent to England to be\neducated, I have no words to describe.\n\n\"It could scarcely be expected that a high-spirited lad, accustomed\nto have his own way, would yield at once to authority; at least\nHenreich did not, and soon fell into such disgrace that he was\nexpelled from the school.  My uncle, to whose care he had been\ncommitted, wrote, resigning the charge. He reproached my father\nin the most unmeasured terms for neglecting to restrain the boy's\ntemper, which had led him in an ungovernable fit of fury to attempt\nthe life of one of his teachers, after which he fled, and nothing\ncould be heard from him. Father went to England at once. I never knew\nwhat occurred there, but when he came home he said Henreich was dead\nto us, and forbade that his name ever be mentioned.\n\n\"You will see later why I dwell so long on these sad events.\nI mourned over my brother, and, not being allowed to speak of him,\nI brooded over his troubles until at last I forgot that he had been\nto blame for them. I even came to regard him as a hero, who had been\nunjustly treated.\n\n\"All the fond pride which would have been cherished for both of us\nwas now lavished on me. I scarcely had a wish but it was gratified.\nWith the exception of my trouble at the separation from my brother,\nI scarcely knew the meaning of the word, till in my fourteenth year\nI accompanied my parents to England, and they left me to finish my\neducation.\n\n\"I was now in the same country where Henreich had been, but I never,\nexcept on one occasion, heard his name mentioned. I asked my uncle\nDouglass if he knew where my brother was, and was answered, with a\nterrible frown,\u2014\n\n\"'No, I do not. He may be dead, for all I care.'\n\n\"I never inquired again.\n\n\"I was in England two years, and returned to Spain 'finished,' as my\ngraduation from school with high honors was called. It was then\nI entered on a course of gayety, such as I had never even imagined.\nThough very young, my hand was asked frequently in marriage; but my\nheart was never touched till one evening, at a gay assembly, I met\na young American, with whom I danced nearly all night. Only the third\ntime we met he told me he loved me, and asked me to be his wife.\nI confessed that I returned his affection, and sent him to my father.\n\n\"But now, for the first time in my life, I met opposition. My father\nand mother, foolishly fond and proud of their only child, considered\nit quite beneath me to marry an untitled foreigner. They talked as\nthough royalty itself might be honored by an alliance with me.\nThis opposition naturally fixed my determination to marry the man\nof my choice, notwithstanding all obstacles. I instantly invested him\nwith the whole catalogue of virtues and when, added to these, sadness\non his part proved his undying attachment, I made a martyr of him,\u2014\na martyr dying for my love.\n\n\"Under these circumstances I gave my parents no rest. My lover\noffered letters to prove that he was worthy; and at length, worn out\nby my entreaties and my evident loss of bloom, father did secretly\nwrite to a friend in London, requesting him to ascertain from\nMr. Post, banker in that city, in regard to his position and\nprospects.\n\n\"This it was easy to do through correspondents from the London\nBanking House, and the result was so satisfactory, both as to\ncharacter and wealth, that my friend was allowed to renew his visits,\nwhich speedily terminated in my betrothal. I have often thought\nsince, that, had my parents allowed the acquaintance to proceed at\nfirst without opposition, all would have ended differently; for as\nthe intimacy advanced, even before our marriage, I discovered certain\ntraits which greatly annoyed me.\n\n\"I had been accustomed to the expression of admiration, and enjoyed\nit; but I was faithful and true to my lover. He considered the looks\nand tones of flattery an insult both to me and to him. He constantly\nurged our immediate union; but to this my parents would not consent,\nexcept on one condition. Until I was twenty-one, my home must be with\nthem. On my eighteenth birthday, with the reluctant consent of all my\nrelatives, I became a wife. For a month or two I was very happy.\nI found my husband intelligent, with a cultivated mind, and a kind\nheart. We were alone in a villa belonging to my grandfather, and\nproved so sufficient for mutual happiness that I returned home with\ngreat regret. Oh, that we had never returned!\"\n\nMarion had been so absorbed in the recital that she had failed\nto notice the increasing pallor of the narrator. Struck with the\nintense sadness of the last tone, she started to find her visitor\nsinking back in her chair, her lips blanched, her hands trembling.\n\nThrowing aside her work, she ran to her chamber for cologne,\nwith which she bathed the forehead and hands of the lady, then rang\nfor James to bring her a cup of fresh coffee.\n\nShe insisted that Mrs. Douglass should rest before she continued her\ninteresting story; but the lady, with a sigh, urged,\u2014\n\n\"I may never have so favorable an opportunity to finish. My sad tale\nis nearly ended, and I shall be greatly relieved when I have told my\nonly American friend my folly and my punishment; so resume your work,\nand let me end the recital as briefly as possible.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nTEARS OF REPENTANCE.\n\nI HAD only been in Madrid a few weeks before I found that my husband\nwas jealous, unreasonably jealous. He was so exacting that he\ndemanded all my attention. If I conversed with my old acquaintances,\nyoung or old, of either sex, he made a scene. My father remonstrated,\nand they came to open fight, my husband declaring that he would have\nno interference with his wife. To avoid quarrelling I gave up\nsociety, and even at my father's table became constrained in manner,\nscarcely daring to speak lest I should meet the reproachful eyes\nof my husband fixed upon me. Finding that even this reticence did not\nsatisfy him, I went to the other extreme, talked and laughed\u2014yes,\nand flirted too,\u2014with any one. This went on for more than a year.\nI need not say that we were both wretched; for, strange as it was,\nI still loved my husband, in memory of the few weeks of unalloyed\nhappiness after our marriage. I think he loved me, too, though he had\ngreatly changed,\u2014grown cold and sarcastic.\n\n\"I was driving out one afternoon in company with a servant, when I\nmet a traveller, alone and on foot, who started at my approach, gazed\nfixedly in my face as we slowly passed, and then ran after the\ncarriage. I was in delicate health, and his sudden reappearance\ngreatly startled me. In his excitement he did not notice my fright;\nbut, speaking a few words in English, he forced me to alight and join\nhim at a distance. It was Henreich, my brother, my long-lost idol,\nshattered and destroyed. The fiercest passions lighted his\nmagnificent eyes. He asked for father, and cursed both him and his\nown bad luck that our parents still lived. When I hurriedly told him\nI was married, he was so angry he would have struck me. He asked\nfor money, saying, repeatedly,\u2014\n\n\"'I must have money. I will have my portion of the estate. By fair\nmeans or foul, I will have what I want.'\"\n\n\"I could not get away from him till I had given him my purse and\nevery jewel I had about me, and had promised to meet him at night\nin a retired part of our grounds,\u2014I thought I could steal away\nunobserved.\n\n\"Perhaps I could have done so but for the servant, who was afterwards\ndiscovered to be a spy my husband had set upon me, who told him\nof the strange meeting as soon as we returned home. He had never\nheard my brother's name, and must have wondered at my conduct.\n\n\"I went instantly to my chamber, where Mr.\u2014 soon joined me, coming\nto the couch where I lay, and gazing in my face with such marks of\nagony as I could not account for.\n\n\"At that moment my love came upon me with all its fervor. I put up my\narms and drew him down to me, and wept on his shoulder. I kissed him\nrepeatedly, and did not notice at the time that my caresses were not\nreturned. I was so exhausted by what had passed that I fell asleep.\nI woke, shouting,\u2014\n\n\"Henreich! O Henreich, go away! Why did you come back?'\n\n\"'Who is Henreich?' My husband's voice was so stern, so unnatural,\nthat it frightened me. In one instant I realized that if I said,\n'He is my brother,' he would not believe in the existence of one of\nwhom he had never heard. Indeed, my father often spoke of me as his\nonly child. If he did believe me, Henreich would be discovered, and\nmy father's name disgraced; for, from what I had seen, I was sure his\nlife had become wholly corrupt. These thoughts flashed through my\nmind, as my husband stood with blanched face and eyes protruding\nlooking into mine. Would that I had explained all to him! I am sure\nlove for me was struggling in his breast with the contempt\nhe imagined I deserved; but I did not explain. I resolved that\nI would give all the money I could raise to my brother, and send him\naway; that when he was out of reach I would tell my husband the whole\nstory, under a promise from him of secrecy.'\"\n\nMrs. Douglass hid her face in her hands, unable to proceed.\n\nTears were trickling down Marion's cheeks.\n\n\"Perhaps I am doing wrong to tell you all this, Miss Howard.\nYou blame me for my want of frankness, but not half so much as\nI deserve, and you will see that I have been terribly punished.\nI stole from the house at the hour I had promised to meet my brother,\nwith a large sum of money in my hand, and a letter in which I told\nhim it was the last time I would help him. I begged him to go away,\nand begin a life of honesty and virtue I signed myself your\naffectionate sister.\n\n\"My husband was watching, and saw me go out. He followed, heard the\nsound of excited voices, saw Henreich take me in his arms, and, as he\nthought, strain me to his breast. Alas! it was a ruffian who held me,\nwhile he tried to force me to yield to him my betrothal ring,\na superb diamond.  He succeeded in wrenching it from my finger. How I\nregained the house I never knew. I found myself in my own room on a\ncouch, with my maid bending over me. I was told afterward that one\nswoon had succeeded another, physicians had been summoned, and\nremedies administered. At the sound of my voice mother came forward\nwith our attending physician. Another spasm came on. Two days later\nI lay hovering between life and death, and my little babe lay beside\nme, the very image of Henreich as he was when I first remembered him.\n\n\"I was too sick at first to notice the absence of my husband.\nI learned later that he saw me fall in trying to reach the house,\ncaught me in his arms, and laid me on the couch. He summoned my own\nmaid, who saw him seize a few papers from the drawer and go out into\nthe darkness. From that day to this I have never seen him. All these\nyears, if he has lived through them, he has believed me to be a\nguilty thing, not worthy even of his contempt. All these years his\nchild has never heard her father's name, and he whose heart was\nalways touched with the sorrows of a child has never heard the sacred\nname of father from his child's lips. Too late I learned to love him\nwith an intense affection, which, if it had been cherished earlier,\nwould have led me to overlook faults of manner and roughness of\nspeech which, perhaps, after all, were put on to disguise deep\nfeeling.\n\n\"Only once in all these long, weary years have I heard from him.\nOur beautiful babe was two months old when my father received a\nletter, stating that a sum of money had been placed in the hands\nof trustees, who were named, for the benefit of my child, if living.\nHe said that he considered the marriage tie broken, and that he\nshould never trouble me again.\n\n\"He was right: believing of me what he did, he could not do\notherwise. I honor him for it,\u2014but I must hurry to a close.\n\n\"Henreich did not succeed in escaping the vigilance of persons who\nwere in search of him. He had hoped to secure enough from me to reach\na foreign land and chide justice. When his arrest was made public,\nthe servant who had been with me on my first meeting Henreich\nconfessed, with bitter tears, that she had told my husband that which\ncaused him to watch me on that dreadful night. She said his agony\nof grief at what he called the certainty of my unfaithfulness\nfrightened her, and she ran away, repenting that she had told him.\n\n\"Henreich's arrest and death, though under an assumed name, threw my\nmother into a fever, from which she never recovered. Two years later,\nfather married a Spanish widow, with several sons and daughters.\nThe eldest son was ten years older than Juliette, and was being\neducated in France and Germany. He returned to his home when she was\nonly a few months over fourteen, became enamoured of her beauty, and\na secret engagement took place. When I learned of it I refused my\nconsent; but the infatuated child followed the example of her mother,\nand would not yield her own wishes. His mother agreed with me; but my\nfather said there was no blood relation between them, and if they\nwould wait till she was of proper age there was no objection.\n\n\"This half-consent was enough for Arthur Cheriton. He took Juliette\nout for a drive one day. When they returned they were man and wife.\nAfter living together a year, he found her unformed in mind and\nwilful in temper. He went to England on the plea that after obtaining\na situation he would send for her.\n\n\"Eugene was just one month old when his father left home. We have\nnever seen him since. A small fortune from my father at his death,\ntogether with the income from the sum my husband settled on us, has\nsufficed for our maintenance. It will support Juliette and her boy\nin comfort; but it is for her I fear. She has many of poor Henreich's\ntraits, and her beauty attracts many admirers. My prayer is that the\nheavy afflictions which have separated us from those we love may wean\nher from earth as they have the mother; that she may find in the\nexercise of the duties of a Christian life the solace nothing else\ncan give.\n\n\"One word more and I have done. Once a year we have heard from\nArthur, whom I have always kept advised of our place of residence.\nI have reason to suppose he is in America, perhaps in New York.\nThis was what led me to say that we might be compelled to leave the\ncity. Juliette has lost all her love for him, and insists that she\nwill never recognize the tie which binds them together. As long as I\nlive, I shall go with her where she goes; but I know death may claim\nme at any time,\u2014and then what will become of my child?\"\n\n\"Was your husband's name Douglass, too?\"\n\n\"I took my father's name when he cast me off.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nLETTERS FROM THE PASTOR.\n\n\"HOW true it is,\" said Marion, as, after she had taken Mrs. Douglass\nto her home, she was seated in her own parlor,\u2014\"how true that the\nsins of the parents are visited on the children! God's threatenings\nare as faithful as his promises. I cannot be thankful enough that\nI have had a pious ancestry, and that their prayers may be answered\nin blessings on their descendants. How little that father realized\nthat, in allowing his son and daughter the indulgence of every\ncaprice, they were sowing seed which would spring up to their own\nsorrow and shame! How little even Mrs. Cheriton realizes that she is\npursuing the same evil course with her boy, and that from being her\nidol he will become her tyrant! I promised Mrs. Douglass that I would\nbe a friend to the youthful mother; indeed she urged that Mr. Angus\nhad advised her to confide her story to me, and had been confident\nthat I would not forsake her. I will try to keep my promise.\"\n\nMr. Angus sailed early in June, and, except a notice in the papers of\nthe safe arrival of the steamship in Liverpool, no news from him had\nbeen received. Mrs. Asbury wrote Marion that her long-promised visit\nwould be paid the last week in the month, and that she expected her\nniece to return with her to Grantbury. At the close was the following\nhurried postscript:\u2014\n\n\"I have opened my letter to add that Mr. Asbury has just received\na brief communication from our dear pastor. He is well, preached on\nSunday in London, both morning and afternoon, sent affectionate\nregards to all friends including you and Ethel, of course.\"\n\nMarion read the message with a heightened color. Her heart rebelled\nagainst being remembered in this general way; then, reading again,\nwas pleased to see that this was only her aunt's rendering of his\nmessage. She fell into a revery concerning the absent one. \"He told\nme I was the only confidant he ever had. In aunty's last letter she\nnarrated exactly what he told her in regard to the triumphant death\nof a friend. She has no idea that I knew his sister, nor of the\npainful events of his early life. I will not betray his confidence;\nand yet it will be a trial to me to keep anything of interest to\nmyself from my dear, kind aunty. I wonder whether he will write me,\nand when.\"\n\nShe was interrupted by James, who brought the morning paper.\n\n\"Nothing else?\" she asked, in a tone of disappointment.\n\n\"Nothing at all.\"\n\nLooking at her watch, she saw there would not be time to read the\nnews before the carriage was due. She folded it in an abstract\nmanner, walked to the rack to put it in, when she saw the end of\na letter protruding from a newspaper inside. As this was not the\nplace for letters, she took it out, and found to her surprise\nit was unsealed, and\u2014\"Yes, it is,\" she said aloud, \"it is\npostmarked London.\"\n\nMr. Angus began by asking,\u2014\n\nAm I intruding too much on your kindness by sending you a few lines\nat so early a date? If so, forgive me, and remember that though I am\nin my native land, standing on the spot where my fathers stood, yet I\nam a stranger. I feel lonely to-night, and would gladly transport\nmyself back to my adopted country. We had a prosperous voyage,\u2014\nprosperous so far as it could be to one who was being removed farther\nand farther from home and home friends. How much would I give to have\nmy little Ethel in my arms, and hear her sweet voice whispering in\nmy ear, \"I love you!\"\n\nYou will turn from my page, I fear, disgusted with my home-sickness,\nand I will tell you of other things.\n\nI have been occupied with business in London, but start to-morrow\nfor Doncaster, and from that place shall proceed to Leyden. There is\na post-office in Leyden. If I should find there a letter directed to\nme, it would make me very happy.\n\nI write Mr. Asbury by this same steamer, and shall send my messages\ndirect to them.\n\nMay God bless you, my dear Miss Howard, and reward you for all your\nkindness to me and mine, is the sincere prayer of your friend,\n\nHAROLD ANGUS.\n\nThere was one person only to whom Marion spoke of the relief which\nhad come to the Grantbury pastor, and this was to Mary Falkner. This\nyoung girl, in the midst of her own suffering, never forgot to pray\nthat God would lead him into the light. It was Marion's precious\nprivilege to change these prayers to praise for mercies already\nbestowed.\n\nIt was during a visit made to the Home, and when the conversation had\nreverted to friends in Grantbury, that Mary inquired who was\npreaching there. \"Mother goes every Sunday to church,\" she went on,\n\"and says she enjoys it. She told me word had come across the water\nfrom the pastor, that he was safe on land the other side.\"\n\nMarion laughed at the curious phraseology of the widow, and then\nsaid, \"Your prayers for him have been answered, Mary. He is no longer\nweighed down by sad memories. I will report to you what he told Aunt\nAsbury.\"\n\nThe cripple clasped her hands, while a fervent expression of joy\nstole over her face.\n\n\"God be praised!\" she ejaculated.  \"He will be far more useful in his\nwork now.  He can 'rejoice with those who do rejoice, as well as weep\nwith those who weep.'\"\n\n\n\nPART II.\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nGRANTBURY AND THE FIRST CHURCH.\n\nGRANTBURY is a manufacturing town. It has six churches, of the\ndifferent denominations. The largest and most flourishing church\nwas the one over which Mr. Angus was settled as pastor. A branch\nof this church had gone off some years before and had built a chapel\nnear one of the factories, hoping to bring in many of the employ\u00e9s,\nwho were neglectful of public worship. This had not been as\nsuccessful as had been hoped; the clergyman was so poorly supported\nthat he left, and of late the effort of the Christian workers had\nbeen concentrated on the Sunday school.  The usual attendance here\nwas about one hundred.\n\nTwo years before the commencement of our story, an unusual excitement\nprevailed in the town, caused by the proposition of a few speculators\nto build a new railroad direct to the principal cities east and west\nof them, thus connecting them with the great thoroughfares.\nThe capitalists who owned most of the stock in the branch railroad\nwhich connected them three times in a day with the next town at first\nopposed the new project; but Mr. Asbury, with a wider and more\nfar-reaching view of the results, advocated it both by public\nspeeches and offers of money.\n\nAs he was a large land-owner, and the railroad would have to pass\nthrough one of his most valuable farms, it was argued by those\nwishing the new road, that he must be advocating it for the good\nof the public against his private interests.  So, indeed, he was.\nThe new road was chartered, and in time in working order.\nA compromise to purchase from the owners of the branch road twelve\nmiles which came in their direct route satisfied all parties;\nso that, when, the new, tasteful depot with the long baggage-room\nreplaced the forlorn little station with shed attached, there was\na general burst of enthusiasm.\n\nThe two years following this made a marvelous change in the old,\nquiet village. Mr. Asbury had given a beautiful site for the new\ndepot, on conditions which had been complied with. The grass land\nbelonging to his largest farm had been laid out in squares, with\na park in the centre, and sold for house lots. The buildings put up\nthere according to the terms of sale, must not be less than a\nstipulated cost; and thus a pretty village was growing up in this\npart of the town.\n\nMr. Angus's church was half a mile from the station, and quite near\nMr. Asbury's dwelling house. The stimulus in all branches of business\nhad been so great since the new railroad had been built that the main\nstreet had been widened, and set out with shade trees at the border\nof the flagged sidewalks.\n\nNor was the prosperity confined to the vicinity of the depot.\nThe increased demand for vegetables, milk, etc., from the new-comers\nmade the land too valuable for the farmers to cultivate grass and\ncorn for their own use. Large fields with southern exposures were\nplanted with early and late vegetables and small fruits, which found\na ready sale at their own new market.\n\nThis was the condition of the town when Mr. Angus became the pastor\nof the First Church.  During the nine months following his\nordination, the church building had become so crowded that a\nsuggestion of enlarging by transepts had been made. It was an\nold-fashioned edifice, with unnecessarily roomy slips, white walls,\nhigh pulpit, and poor ventilation. Mr. Asbury was opposed to\nenlarging, but did not consider it time to give his reasons.\n\nAt a meeting of the trustees directly after Mr. Angus went abroad,\nit was proposed that the work of enlarging be entered upon\nimmediately, and finished by the time of the pastor's return.\nSome money was subscribed; but when the paper was passed to\nMr. Asbury, he refused to sign any thing. As a large subscription\nhad been hoped for, this refusal threw a damper on the undertaking;\nbut a committee was appointed to report in one week, and the meeting\nadjourned.\n\nDuring this very week a fire broke out in carpenter's shop filled\nwith combustible matter. The flames carried sparks and half-burned\nsticks to several houses in the vicinity, and among them to the\nbuilding belonging to the First Church. The committee met, and all\nthe male members with them, not to report on the cost of the proposed\nalterations, but to consult what was to be done in this sudden and\nterrible emergency.\n\nThe old sturdy farmers were near despair, but supposed they must do\nsomething to repair the temple of the Lord, and were thankful that\nthe walls, being of brick, were still standing.\n\nOthers had a plan that a new town hall, just finished, should be\nhired, and public worship held there till such time as they were able\nto recover from the effects of the terrible calamity which had\novertaken them.\n\nMr. Asbury and a few friends belonging to the wealthy portion of the\nchurch remained silent listeners to the views of the older brethren.\nAt length, after an hour spent in lamentations over the calamity, and\npropositions which were considered impracticable, the moderator\nof the meeting remarked,\u2014\n\n\"We have talked an hour to no purpose. Will some one make a\nproposition as to a place of worship for us next Sunday?\"\n\nAfter a momentary pause, Mr. Asbury quietly rose from his seat\nwith an open paper in his hand. There was not the least trace of\nexcitement in his manner, as he said, \"I have here a letter, which I\nwill read. It is from the trustees of the Methodist Episcopal Church\nin our town, and is addressed to me.\n\n\"MR. EDWARD ASBURY:\n\n\"Dear Sir, At a meeting of our board of trustees the day following\nthe burning of your church edifice, a resolve was unanimously voted\nthat we deeply sympathize in your loss of your house of worship, and\nthat we tender to you the free use of our church building till such\ntime as you may repair your edifice or otherwise provide for\nyourselves.\n\n\"With fraternal love and good-will,\n\n\"Very respectfully\n\"MOSES HUNT.\n\n\"By order of trustees of Methodist Episcopal Church, Grantbury.\"\n\nA motion to accept this friendly offer was at once passed, and then\nMr. Asbury rose again and said,\u2014\n\n\"I have a proposition to make; but, first, I ask you to listen to a\nfew facts. I have made a careful investigation into the state of our\nchurch building, the walls of which are still standing. It is\nfifty-eight years old; the beams are rotten. It ought to be a source\nof gratitude that we have escaped a greater calamity by reason of the\nfalling in of the walls, from the cellar being unventilated.\nIt cannot be repaired. This is the opinion of the best experts I have\nbeen able to obtain. I propose, then, that we sell it as it stands,\nto some gentlemen who offer five thousand dollars for the site.\nThey intend, if they obtain it, to put up a large hotel.\"\n\n\"It's a good offer.\"\n\n\"Take it.\"\n\n\"I object.\"\n\n\"We must have the land to build again.\"\n\n\"We need a hotel for summer residents.\"\n\n\"We can worship in the town hall.\"\n\n\"Or disband altogether,\" grumbled a man who never contributed a\npenny.\n\nAltogether the clamor following this proposition prevented any\nfurther remarks from Mr. Asbury, if he had wished to make any, and he\nsat down with a smile on his face.\n\nSeveral groups were at once formed, and loud, excited voices were\nheard discussing this unexpected proposal; some were for accepting,\nothers positively refused to quit the old spot dedicated by their\nfathers to the worship of God. At length the moderator, with a loud\nrap on the table, called the meeting to order, and inquired whether\nany gentleman had anything further to say before the proposal was put\nto vote.\n\nMr. Asbury rose again, this time with a little flush on his face,\nas he remarked, \"I am not in the habit, as you, my friends, are\naware, of speaking of myself; but I would like to say that I have the\nwelfare of this parish greatly at heart. We are blessed with a good\npastor,\u2014a live, working man. I believe he will be more useful in\nthe future than he has been in the past; that he is a growing man.\nI believe that he will return to us with greatly improved health and\nspirits, and enter on his work again with new hope and confidence of\nsuccess. I want to show him that we appreciate him by building him\na new church large enough to accommodate all the new families who\nwish to join us. When a proposition was made at our last meeting\nto enlarge our old building, I did not subscribe, because I knew the\nwork would cost more in the end than to begin a new one. I have had\nsome sad experience, as many of you know\" (smiling), \"as to the cost\nof repairing old buildings. Now that the fire has rendered that\nundertaking impracticable, I propose to your board of trustees\nto accept a lot of land on the rising ground, half-way between this\nand the new depot, which I freely tender to them.\"\n\nShouts of \"Yes,\" \"We will,\" etc., were checked by a wave of\nMr. Asbury's hand, as he added,\u2014\n\n\"Wait a little: I have not done yet; there are conditions. I wish\nto say that a subscription paper has already been started for a new\nedifice costing not less than twenty thousand dollars, and the sum of\nfourteen thousand eight hundred dollars, including five thousand for\nour old church building, already subscribed, on condition that the\nwhole amount be raised, and no mortgage ever be allowed upon it.\"\n\nProfound silence followed this speech, which was like a bombshell\nthrown into an unprotected house; then a few whispers were heard,\u2014\n\n\"Five thousand and more to raise. Where will it come from?\"\n\n\"'T would have cost ten to repair, and 't would have been an old\nbuilding after all.\"\n\nAt last, Mr. Rand, an aged, white-haired farmer, stood up.\n\n\"I'm an old man,\" he said, \"and not long for this world; but I hope\nto live to see the new church built on that 'ere spot yonder, which,\nin my opinion, is the pootiest place for a church in the hull town,\u2014\nyes, and to worship God in it, too. I'm not rich, and I'm not poor.\nI've got nigh upon two thousand dollars in the savings bank, laid up\nfor a wet day. My children are all married and settled on farms of\ntheir own; so I sha'n't do any of 'em wrong if I add my name to\nMr. Asbury's paper,\" holding out his hand for it. \"There,\" he said,\ndeliberately taking off the glasses he had put on to write,\u2014\n\"there's fifteen thousand three hundred subscribed on the above-named\nconditions. If necessary, I'll add another five hundred; and I'm sure\nmy old woman will say so, too.\"\n\n\"After this noble example,\" rejoined the moderator, more moved by the\nold man's words than he liked to show, \"I'll put down my name for the\nsame sum as he did.\"\n\nSmaller sums were at once added, so that when the meeting adjourned,\nafter the appointment of a building committee, only one thousand more\nwas necessary to make up the entire amount. This was to be obtained\nby personal solicitation from the families of those not represented\nat the meeting, and a committee of ladies was requested to take this\nwork in hand.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nVISIT TO INGLESIDE.\n\nTHE architect employed by the building committee had submitted a plan\nfor the new church,\u2014Gothic, high spire, and stained-glass windows.\nIt was accepted, the foundation laid, the walls, which were to be of\nnative stone, raised to the height of seven feet, when a letter was\nreceived from Mr. Angus, enclosing a slip cut from a London\nnewspaper.\n\n\"A very innocent-looking paragraph,\" exclaimed Mr. Asbury to his\nwife. \"But what a stir it will make in the parish!\"\n\nIt was the announcement of an urgent call given to the Rev. Harold\nAngus, of New York City, United States of America, to settle over the\n\u2014Church, \u2014Street, London, at a salary of one thousand pounds.\n\nIn addition to the printed paragraph, Mr. Angus had written,\u2014\n\nDEAR FRIENDS,\u2014\n\nMail going out. Only time to say that the call alluded to, and the\nenclosed slip, in which it was announced, came to hand by\nthe same mail, and was wholly unexpected. Fearing you might see it\ncopied into a New York paper, I forward it, and will write more at\nlength by next steamer.\n\nH. ANGUS.\n\nBefore the close of the day in which the letter was received, few\nbelonging to the First Church were ignorant of its contents.\nMr. Asbury was right. The news created a great excitement, not only\nin their own parish, but throughout the town. A meeting of the voters\nin the First Church was called to express their opinions in regard to\nthe subject of the paragraph.\n\nAfter the opening exercises, Mr. Asbury stated the object of the\nmeeting.  Mr. Rand then started to his feet, and with a quick glance\naround the room, said, in a loud voice,\u2014\n\n\"I'm as deaf as a post, from a cold I got down on my medder, and I\ncan't hear a word you say; but my wife, she's heerd that some folks\n't other side of the water are trying to get our pastor away from us,\nand she told me to come here and vote it right down. It's a shame,\nanyway, for Christians to be a-pulling and a-tearing of one another.\nWe've got the first right to Mr. Angus, and I vote that we hold on\nto him, and let them get a minister nearer home. That's all I've got\nto say. If it's more salary than we pay him, I guess I can help make\nup the difference between what they'll give and what we do.\"\n\nA hearty laugh followed this speech, and, as Mr. Rand had expressed\nin brief the wishes of all present, the meeting soon adjourned, after\na unanimous vote \"to hold on to their pastor,\" and make the question\nof salary satisfactory to him.\n\nOne of his neighbors having screamed this result into Mr. Rand's ear,\nhe mounted his farm-wagon with a significant nod of his head.\n\n\"All right!\" he shouted, at the top of his voice. \"I darsn't go home\ntill I knew the parish would hold on to him. My old woman would\u2014you\nknow.\" His voice was lost in the distance.\n\nPerhaps if the good farmer had known the contents of a letter which\nat this very hour was being carried by wind and steam across the\nAtlantic he would have been still more jubilant as he sat eating his\nsupper of cold corned beef and greens, and telling his wife, between\nthe mouthfuls, the news he had learned at the meeting.\n\nMrs. Asbury made her visit to Marion at the time she had promised,\ntaking Ethel with her. Of course all the Grantbury news was\nrehearsed, in the course of which the pastor's name was frequently\nmentioned.  Ethel, meanwhile, had succeeded in coaxing Gypsy, a pet\nspaniel belonging to Mrs. Mitchell, to allow herself to be dressed in\none of her dolly's cloaks.\n\n\"Now,\" she said, \"we are going to sail on a voyage to Europe, to see\nMr. Angus. You must sit very still, doggy, because it's Sunday.\nI shall teach you a hymn by and by,\"\u2014\n\n\"'I must not play on Sunday.'\"\n\n\"When we get to Europe, I shall let you go with me to Ingleside,\nyou know. There is a pretty garden at Ingleside, with an arbor all\ncovered with grape vines. If you are good till we get there,\u2014\nsit still, Gypsy,\u2014oh, how naughty you are to pull off your nice\ncloak!\"\n\nBy this time Gypsy thought she ought to be released, and jumped from\nthe sofa, where Ethel had placed her, at which the little girl burst\ninto a merry laugh.\n\n\"What is she talking about?\" asked Marion, in a low tone.\n\n\"Where is Ingleside, Ethel?\" inquired her mother.\n\n\"Why, don't you know? It is Mr. Angus's home, where his grandfather\nused to live.  When he was a little boy, his mamma let him go there\nsometimes; and he had hens and little goats to play with. We talk\nabout it when we are taking a walk, you know.\"\n\n\"What a pretty name Ingleside is,\" remarked Marion, without raising\nher eyes from her work. She was making a fine dress for Frances,\nEthel's favorite doll, and of course the excitement of this was what\nmade her cheeks look so rosy.\n\nDuring Ethel's visits Marion invited Geenie Cheriton to take a drive\nwith them and pass the rest of the day with the little girl. They all\ngave a sigh of relief, however, when James started with him for his\nhome, and Mrs. Asbury said,\u2014\n\n\"I wonder how Mrs. Douglass can endure that child's noise. It is such\na pity that he should be ruined by indulgence.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't be that boy's nurse for a fortune,\" exclaimed Hepsey,\nwho was putting up the toys Geenie had pulled about. \"They'll have\na time with him if he lives.\"\n\nMr. Lambert called during Mrs. Asbury's visit, and was introduced\nto the guests. He seemed greatly attracted by Ethel, who fixed her\nlarge violet eyes seriously upon him. He succeeded at last in coaxing\nher to his side, when they had quite an animated conversation.\nBefore they parted he gave her a beautiful little charm, whist he\nunhooked from his watch-chain.\n\nThis was the first time Marion had seen him since her discovery that\nMr. Regy, of whom she had heard so much, was only the double of her\nold friend. She longed to ask him about it, but would not before\nstrangers. She contented herself with inquiries about Neddy Carter,\nwho was soon to be admitted to the mission school.\n\nOnly two days after Mrs. Asbury's return to Grantbury,\nMarion received a thick letter with a foreign postmark,\u2014Leyden,\nYorkshire.  She retired quickly to her own chamber, and sat down with\nblooming cheeks to its perusal.\n\nI have no intention of copying the letter, but will say that, after\ngiving her an account of his visit to his home,\u2014a visit which\nalmost overwhelmed him with its painful memories,\u2014and visiting the\ngraves of father, mother, and brother as they lay side by side under\nthe old yew-trees, he took the cars for Ingleside, his father's\nancestral home in Leyden. He told her he found only an old servant,\na retainer of the family, who received him as one from the dead.\nHis grandfather had four children born here,\u2014one son and three\ndaughters. When he died, in Harold's twelfth year, his property was\ndivided equally between them, except Ingleside, which was always\nto be kept in the family, and after the death of his daughters\nto revert to his oldest grandson.\n\nEstelle Angus, for whom Stella was named, made a will and left her\nnamesake her heir. Mary and Sarah died without making a will, and the\nproperty came to Harold, as the nearest of kin. It was not a great\nfortune that he found awaiting him, Mr. Angus told Marion, but, with\nthe money left in the bank by his father, it was sufficient to enable\nhim to carry out some cherished plans.\n\nOne of these plans was to build a pretty home on a certain knoll\nin Grantbury (the very one Mr. Asbury had given to the church), to be\ncalled Ingleside; but there was one word from her which must come\nbefore the new Ingleside could be built.\n\nThen followed certain statements in regard to a diagnosis recently\nmade of his heart, which conveyed to the young lady a pretty accurate\nidea of what the word must be, in order that the English cottage be\nerected.\n\nBy this time Marion, by certain unwelcome symptoms, which had forced\nthemselves on her notice was aware of the strength of her own\nattachment for her pastor, and, being naturally frank and outspoken,\nshe wrote the word (a very short one), which, could he have known it,\nwould have set good Farmer Rand's mind at rest in regard \"to holding\non\" to his pastor.\n\nIn a note added to his letter, immediately following the receipt of\nthe call from the London church, Mr. Angus added:\u2014\n\n\"I have just forwarded to Mr. Asbury an invitation to settle in our\ngreat metropolis. Would you prefer to live in England? Of course I\ncould not give the parish an idea of what my answer will be till\nI hear from you. Am I presumptuous? You first taught me to be\nhopeful. Am I too daring to hope now?\"\n\nEarly one morning soon after this, Mrs. Douglass sent Marion a note,\nrequesting her to call at her earliest convenience.\n\nOn entering the house where Mrs. Douglass had rooms, Marion met\nin the hall a dashing young man, dressed in the height of the\nfashion, with a lighted cigar in his hand. She would have passed him\nwithout notice, but for a bold stare, which sent the indignant blood\nto her cheeks.\n\nThe knock at Mrs. Douglass's door was for a minute unanswered;\nthen Mrs. Cheriton opened it, her eyes still flashing defiance,\nher head thrown back, but looking more brilliantly beautiful than the\nvisitor had ever seen her.\n\nMrs. Douglass had evidently been under some strong excitement:\nher eyes were red with crying, and her hands trembled.\n\nEugene came forward with a rush to meet the lady. He was dressed for\na walk and insisted that Marion should accompany him.\n\n\"I am on my way to my music scholars,\" explained the visitor, taking\nthe little fellow in her arms. \"Some time you shall go with me.\"\n\n\"I'm going to walk with you,\" said his mother haughtily.\n\n\"How can I aid you, dear friend?\" asked Marion, when the outer door\nhad shut upon the others.\n\n\"Did you meet a gentleman as you came in?\"\n\n\"I did. I can guess that he is Mr. Cheriton.\"\n\n\"Oh, no! no! Would that he were here. Juliette is so young: she does\nnot consider; she is\u2014I am pained to say so\u2014she is imprudent.\nArthur has no right to leave her unprotected. She wrung her hands\nin great distress, her eyes full of tears.\n\n\"Who is he?\"\n\n\"His name is Alford. Juliette accompanied one of our fellow-boarders\nto the theatre, and was introduced to him there. He has been here\nevery day since. She has just promised, in my presence, and contrary\nto my wishes, to go to the theatre with him to-night. I am powerless\nto prevent it. What must I, what can I do?\"\n\n\"Alford,\" repeated Marion. \"Do you know his Christian name?\"\n\n\"There is his card,\u2014C. W. Alford, New York City.\"\n\n\"A very indefinite address. Will you let me take it? I will make\ninquiries concerning his character. I am sorry to say I was not\nfavorably impressed with his appearance.\"\n\n\"But Juliette has a husband. Whatever his moral character may be,\nshe must not receive attentions from him. If the poor child has\na father living\u2014\"  A burst of tears interrupted her.\n\n\"She has a heavenly Father,\" urged Marion, deeply moved. \"He will\nnever lose sight of her for a moment. His eye sees her when\nno earthly eye can follow her, and His arm can protect her from harm.\nDear Mrs. Douglass, don't weep so. Let us ask His guidance.\"\n\nSeldom had the young Christian poured forth such earnest petitions\nfor help as now.  Realizing, as she did, the impulsive passion of the\nyoung wife, the excuses she would make to her conscience,\u2014that her\nhusband had forsaken her,\u2014the impossibility of earthly effort\nto restrain her, Marion called upon God to appear for them in their\ntrouble, to touch the heart of the young mother, to put barriers\nin her path to ruin, to fill her soul with purer joys.\n\nFeeling as she did at that moment, perhaps as never before,\nhow sheltered and protected her own life had been, how brightly the\nfuture was opening before her own path, her tears gushed forth afresh\nat the thought of the dangers threatening this beautiful, unprotected\nchild-wife. She prayed too that the absent husband might be brought\nto a sense of his wrong-doing in forsaking her whom he had sworn\nto cherish, and return to them with new purposes and new resolves.\nNor did she forget the absent father, so long unknown to those\nconnected with him by the closest ties. She prayed that if he were\nstill an inhabitant of earth, God, who knew all things, would lead\nhim back to them, to be their comfort and joy.\n\n\"O Miss Howard!\" cried the afflicted mother, clasping her hands,\n\"what a blessing that we can go to our heavenly Father and tell him\nall our sorrows! I have an assurance that He will answer; that He\nwill in some way protect my dear, deluded child. It may be by my\ndeath. I would willingly give up my life, could I be assured of her\nsafety. It may be that He will touch Arthur's heart, and bring him\nhome to his family. I would submit to any privation, any\ninconvenience, to have him, her lawful protector, with her.\"\n\n\"Or,\" added Marion, \"He may restore to you the husband you have\nso long mourned. A father would be a great blessing to Juliette now.\"\n\n\"A Christian father,\" murmured the lady, raising her eyes to heaven.\n\"Every day my prayer for him is, Lord, if he is living, lead him to\nThyself.\"\n\nAfter a short silence, the lady added, \"I thank God I can say with\ntruth that, since the hour my husband left me, believing I was lost\nto virtue, I have always maintained the strictest reserve toward all\nof the opposite sex. I was young, and often called handsome.\nI believe my husband had been proud of my beauty. I could play the\npiano and guitar as an accompaniment to my voice; but I only played\nfor my parents and most intimate friends. I have always tried\nto impress upon Juliette, both by example and precept, that a wife\nso unfortunately situated must be doubly guarded in her conduct.\nCharacter is a plant which must be kept in good soil, free from\nblights and mildew. It must be watched and tended with care. It is\ntoo sacred to be trifled with.\"\n\nMrs. Douglass wept as she talked, and Marion, desirous of soothing\nher, said,\u2014\n\n\"Mrs. Cheriton's love for Eugene is a great preservative.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is true,\" sighing. \"Poor boy! He needs a father's\nrestraining hand.\"\n\n\"We have asked our heavenly Father to preserve them both from all\nevil, and I believe He will,\" rejoined the visitor, hopefully.\n\nGod did answer the prayers so earnestly offered, but in a way\nentirely unlooked for.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nWITHOUT CHRIST.\n\nMRS. CHERITON did not return from her walk for an hour after Marion\nleft.  She came in looking so brilliantly beautiful that it made her\nmother's heart ache.  Her eyes always shone like stars, and the rich\ncolor crimsoned her cheeks when she was excited either by joy or\nanger. Eugene, too, seemed overflowing with spirits. His hands were\nfull of toys and sweetmeats, given him, he said, by the nice\ngentleman. When he threw off his cap, his grandmother noticed that\nhis hair was wet with perspiration, and told her daughter he ought\nnot to sit in the draught; but she retorted with some indifferent\nreply. Finding she could not induce the child to move, nor to give up\nthe colored candies he was eagerly devouring, with a sigh the\ngrandmother left the room.\n\nDuring the rest of the day, the young mother went about with a smile\non her lips, quite absorbed in thoughts of a pleasant nature.\nToward night her boy coughed two or three times; but she, usually so\nready to take alarm, laughed at her mother's suggestion that he must\nhave taken cold.\n\nAt an early hour Mr. Alford called to accompany her to the theatre,\nand poured out such a torrent of flattery at her beauty as quite\nturned her head.\n\nScarcely bidding her mother good by, she went gayly down the stairs,\nlittle imagining what her return would be.\n\nThe clock was just striking twelve when, in turning the corner of the\nstreet, the house she called home came into view. At this hour it was\nusually dark. Now the hall and her mother's room were brilliantly\nlighted. Just at this moment a carriage dashed up to the door.\n\n\"What does it mean?\" she cried, in a startled voice, trying to pull\nher hand from her companion's arm.\n\n\"When can I see you again?\"\n\nThe insinuating tone was lost on her, for with a sudden fear she had\nreleased herself and flown away. Bounding up the stairs, she stopped\none instant to gaze into the lighted room. On her mother's lap lay\nGeenie, struggling for breath. Before them stood the doctor, with a\nspoonful of medicine in his hand,\u2014just brought by his servant,\u2014\nwhich he was vainly trying to force down the child's throat. One of\nthe servants was bringing through another door a foot-tub filled with\nboiling water, while another was pulling the blanket from the bed.\n\nAll this the mother took in at one glance, then sprang forward with\na loud shriek and threw herself on her knees before her boy.\n\n\"Mamma, help Geenie! Make the bad man go away! Geenie can't breathe!\"\n\n\"It's the croup,\" gasped her mother, in reply to her agonized gaze\ninto the child's face, darkened and convulsed with this struggle for\nbreath.\n\n\"It is a case of life and death,\" added the physician, in a solemn\nvoice.  \"If you love your brother, persuade him to take this\nmedicine.\"\n\n\"My brother! He's my boy, my own, my precious child!\"\n\nHer voice rose to a shriek, as she saw that his features became more\nconvulsed. She cried, she wrung her hands, calling continually,\n\"Eugene, my pet, my darling! I won't give you up! You sha'n't die!\"\n\n\"He will die, and very soon, if you do not control yourself. You must\nbe calm.\"\n\nAddressing one of the servants, who had just returned with the\nprescription, he ordered Eugene's head to be held, while he forced\ndown the medicine. Then turning to Mrs. Douglass, he said, \"Madam,\nwill you try to bring your daughter to reason? Every moment of delay\nmakes the boy's situation more dangerous. With the aid of the\nservants, I wish to use the steam.\"\n\nHe really pitied the child-mother, as he saw her fixed gaze in her\nson's convulsed face; but he knew that unless vigorous measures were\nused, a short time would end the struggle. Taking Eugene in his own\narms, he directed the girl to wrap the boy in the large blanket and\nhold him over the boiling water. The other girl was to furnish\na fresh supply.\n\nMrs. Douglass tried to persuade her daughter to leave the room;\nbut she would not. She sank into a chair and watched every movement\nwhich took place. She seemed suddenly to be turned into an automaton,\nonly that those wondrous eyes flashed so continuously they seemed to\nlight up the room.\n\nIn half an hour the medicine began to take effect, the terrible\nsound, never to be forgotten, grew less harsh. The doctor, with his\ncoat off, worked like a hero. It was evident that the steam produced\nrelief in breathing. More and more heavily drooped the child's head,\nhis eyelids closed, the terrible heaving of his breast was more\nnatural. The doctor put his hand under the blanket, found the pulse,\nand nodded approval.  Without awakening the boy, he put a small\npowder on his tongue and sat down to watch.\n\nAnother hour passed. Mrs. Douglass had quietly retired to the next\nroom. Eugene slept still. He had been removed to the sofa. The doctor\nstill waited. The struggle for life had been so great, he did not\nlike to leave his patient till assured that he would have no return\nof the frightful convulsions. He was a father too, and aside from his\ndesire as a physician to control the disease, he was interested\nin the unusual circumstances of the patient. At home, he had a\ndaughter growing up, now in her seventeenth year, who looked more fit\nto be a mother than this passionate girl, who at one moment gave free\nvent to her frenzied agony, and the next controlled herself so\nwonderfully that she had sat for hours scarcely daring to breathe.\n\nHe could not comprehend, skilled as he was in controlling disease,\nthe torture which that poor girl was undergoing from an accusing\nconscience.  She saw herself at last as in a mirror,\u2014wilful, proud\nof her outward charms, undutiful to her long-suffering,\nself-sacrificing mother,\u2014her best friend,\u2014idolizing her boy,\nbut blind to his faults, and not restraining her own temper that she\nmight teach him self-control. Then her thoughts reverted to her\nabsent husband, and conscience, resolved to be heard at last,\nset before her a catalogue of her offences toward him,\u2014wilful\nneglect of his wishes, too evident want of affection, etc., which had\nat last weaned him from her and sent him far away. \"Where is he now?\"\nIt seemed to her that this question was screamed in her ears.\n\"You drove him wild with your taunts and neglect.\"\n\nAt length she remembered the events of the previous night.  How long\nago that seemed!  The whispers of flattery that had sounded\nso sweetly in her ears, how she loathed them now! How she loathed\nherself, that they could have pleased her! She seemed to herself\nto have been suddenly snatched away from the very brink of a\nprecipice, and to be frantically seizing some sure support which\nwould prevent her from falling back into the dreadful abyss. Oh, how\ndark it looked! And yet how eagerly only last night she had rushed\ntoward it!\n\n\"Oh, my boy! my boy! If you die your mother is justly punished.\"\n\nMrs. Cheriton had not lived nineteen years with her mother without\nunderstanding that this dearest friend was of late governed by\ndifferent principles from those which controlled her in earlier life.\nShe acknowledged in this dark hour that when all other help had\nfailed, the poor widow, bearing alone her heavy burden of grief and\nself-reproach, had found comfort and solace in the truths contained\nin the sacred book hitherto so little prized. God was no longer\nto her an angry judge, but a tender, loving father, whose heart\nyearned over her. Jesus Christ was her sympathizing Saviour, who had\nvoluntarily come to earth, suffered poverty, temptation, and\nignominy, that he might know how to succor his children in like\nsorrow.  Many, many times Mrs. Douglass had endeavored to impress\nthese blessed teachings on her daughter; but they only seemed to her\nlike idle tales. Of late, since her acquaintance with Marion Howard,\nshe had been urged to trust in the kind care of One whose eye of love\nwas always watching her; but these faithful words, instead of drawing\nher heart toward the friend who uttered them, had led her to treat\nMarion with cold contempt.\n\nAs is frequently the case with persons in the near prospect of death,\nthe events of the past life flash like lightning through the mind, so\nin Juliette's agony, circumstances connected with her childhood,\nyouth, and brief married life rushed to her memory with a force and\nvividness which well nigh overwhelmed her. As she afterward described\nit, \"I seemed to be living my life over again: I was wooed and won.\nI tasted the purest joy of all when my child was placed in my arms.\nI sinned and was punished. I went on sinning and repenting. I went\nheadlong into the arms of a destroyer, when a hand was stretched out\nand saved me. I can never make myself believe that all this occurred\nin only five hours.\"\n\nAt last the physician, who had for some time been dozing in his\nchair, rose quietly, and, coming toward the rigid figure, said,\nencouragingly,\u2014\n\n\"He is sleeping quietly now. Be careful that he does not get a chill.\nI will be in again at nine.\"\n\nShe gazed in his face, scarcely understanding his words, looking so\nbewildered that he mechanically placed his fingers on her pulse.\nHer hand was like ice.\n\n\"He, your child, is better. I am quite hopeful now. You have\ncontrolled yourself admirably.\"\n\n\"Do you mean that he will not die? That God will not punish me\nby taking him away?\"\n\n\"Yes, my poor child. I mean that I hope God in mercy intends to spare\nhim to you. He is given to you afresh, to train up to a good and\nuseful life.\"\n\nWhat a change came over that young face, on which despair had been\nstamped! The hard eyes softened, the lips quivered, the crimson tide\ncame rushing back, painting cheeks and brow; the whole countenance\ngrew luminous, as with quickened breath the child-mother clasped\nher hands, exclaiming,\u2014\n\n\"Oh, how I will love Him! He is so good, and I have been so bad.\"\n\nForgetful of the physician's presence, or of anything, except that\nthe God, whom she had not loved, had dealt with her in such infinite\nmercy, she fell on her knees and buried her face in her hands.\n\n\"Lord, help me! Save me!\" she cried. \"I have tried living without Thy\nhelp. I was all but lost. Do help, dear Lord.\"\n\nThese words, so different from what he expected under the\ncircumstances, seemed too sacred for a stranger's ears, and the kind\nphysician silently took his leave, wiping his eyes as he went down\nthe stairs, then walked quickly to his home in the gray dawn of\na new day.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nWITH CHRIST.\n\nMRS. CHERITON'S trials had only begun.  Eugene's croup was followed\nby congestion of the lungs, the attack assuming from the first\nalarming symptoms. He would not bear his mother out of his sight\nfor a moment. Indeed the result of her injudicious fondness showed\nitself during these sad weeks in a manner which would have been\na warning to any one.  Though she deprived herself of sleep, and\nalmost of food, in order to be always at hand to minister to his\nwants, he showed no gratitude. He exacted everything as a right, and,\nif there was the slightest opposition to his wishes, he screamed with\npassion, often exclaiming, \"I hate you.  Go away, bad mamma.\"\nHe would not take medicine from her, shrieking, \"You tell lies.\nYou told me it was good and it wasn't. I'll let Miss Howard give it\nto me: she never tells lies.\"\n\nFrom Marion, too, he would submit to any treatment, even to the\nblisters upon his chest. \"It will hurt you, Geenie,\" she said,\n\"but if you don't have it on for a few minutes that dreadful pain\nwill come back. Be a good boy, and I will tell you a nice story about\nGypsy.\"\n\n\"Will you bring Gypsy to see me?\"\n\n\"Yes, I will.\"\n\nIn addition to Eugene's sickness, the doctor's services were in daily\nrequisition for Mrs. Douglass, who had never risen from her bed since\nthe night of her grandson's seizure. The agony of mind she had\nsuffered on account of her daughter, followed so speedily by Eugene's\ndangerous illness, proved too much for a frame enfeebled by disease.\nViolent pain in the head was succeeded by nervous chills, until\nDr. Danforth became alarmed for her life.\n\nUnder these circumstances Marion proved her real friendship\nby spending as much time as possible with the patient sufferer,\nand thus was at hand when poor Juliette, driven to her wits' end\nby the insubordination of her darling, was unable to control him.\n\nAs the young mother had not spoken of the events of that\nnever-to-be-forgotten night, neither Mrs. Douglass nor Marion\ncould account for the entire change in her manners and appearance.\nThey supposed her fright at the sudden illness of her boy had for the\ntime driven all other thoughts from her mind. Indeed, Mrs. Douglass,\nwith many tears, thanked God that in his wonder-working providence\nhe had taken any means to prevent a career of gayety which must have\nended in her ruin. It would have been an immense relief to her could\nshe have known that a card with the name \"C. W. Alford\" had been sent\nto her daughter the day following Eugene's attack, that the question\nwritten with pencil underneath his name, \"When can I see you?\"\nhad been hastily answered with one word, \"Never.\"\n\nYes, her Father in heaven, more ready to grant our requests\nthan we are to ask them, had indeed answered the Christian mother's\nprayers, though as yet she knew it not.\n\nThrough all these anxious, weary days and nights, in the midst of\nher duties,\u2014and they were onerous,\u2014Mrs. Cheriton was supported\nby the thought, \"God will help me: he has promised to help those\nwho ask him.\"\n\nIn after-days she used to say, \"I seemed to be living in a dream.\nWhenever the thought of Mr. Alford came into my mind, or the\nrecollection of his vague suggestions recurred to me, I shivered,\nwhile my cheeks burned like fire. Then the conduct of Geenie,\nungovernable and unloving, continually reminded me of another\nprecipice from which I had been drawn back.\n\n\"On the other hand, I wondered at myself, at the sweet peace which\nat times filled my soul. How good God has been to me! How kind,\nhow loving, how tender! Sometimes when Geenie slept I found time\nto read a few verses in the Bible. I found verses written expressly\nfor me: 'Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth\nthem that fear him.'  'For he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that\nwe are dust.' I could scarcely believe that these precious words were\nin God's own book. I put in a mark and read them again and again.\"\n\nBut it was impossible for such a radical change to take place\nin Mrs. Cheriton without the fact becoming visible to those\nabout her. Even before her mother noticed anything, the servants\ntalked about it.\n\n\"She must believe he is going to die,\" one girl said to another,\n\"else she wouldn't speak so kindly, and thank me as she does.\"\n\nThe first thing indicating a change noticed by her mother was\none morning, when the chamber-girl, having put everything in order,\nhad left the room, Juliette came from the adjoining chamber with\na smile on her face. Approaching the bed, she kissed her mother,\nsaying, softly,\u2014\n\n\"Geenie is asleep. If you like, I'll read to you,\" laying her hand\non the Bible as she spoke.\n\n\"Thank you, dear. That would indeed be a pleasure.\"\n\n\"Where shall I read? But here is your mark in St. John's Gospel.\"\n\nIn a low, and, to her mother, inexpressibly sweet voice, she read\nthe last words of Christ to his disciples, frequently pausing\nas she read, as though applying the precious words to her own case.\n\nMrs. Douglass lay with her eyes fixed on the pale countenance of the\nreader, wondering what made her so beautiful. The rich bloom had\ngone, the dark eyes no longer flashed; but never had there been such\na serene smile wreathing the lips.  It seemed to indicate an inward\npeace.\n\nAt last, Juliette, raising her eyes from the book met her mother's\ngaze fixed intently on her.\n\n\"Can I do anything more for you, dear?\" she said, rising and leaning\nover the bed.\n\n\"O Juliette! If you could, if you would, pray: we need help so much.\"\n\nThere was a momentary struggle in the breast of the young convert,\nand then, throwing herself on her knees by the bed, she hid her face\nin her hands and poured out from a thankful heart prayer for Christ's\npresence, such as he had promised his disciples, and praise for the\nblessed hope of acceptance and pardon. With the simplicity of a child\nwho has scarcely learned the language of prayer, but whose soul\nis fully alive to the value of the blessings to be asked for,\nshe plead for wisdom equal to every emergency, grace for every trial\nher Father in his love might see fit to send. She prayed for her dear\nmother, so weak and suffering, for her boy, not yet out of danger,\nthat He who loved them better than any earthly love would do for them\naccording to his will.  \"But, oh, dear Jesus, who loves little\nchildren,\" she cried, clasping her hands, \"if he must die, and it is\nThy blessed will, prepare my boy, my poor, neglected child,\nfor heaven. Let him not suffer eternally for his mother's sinful\nneglect of Thy commands.\"\n\nThen her sobs became so violent that she was obliged to rise hastily\nand leave the room.\n\nMrs. Douglass closed her eyes, while she murmured the inspired words,\n\"Lord, now let Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen\nThy salvation.\"\n\n\"I asked God, and He has heard my prayers. She has learned to pray.\nThat was not her first prayer. O my Saviour, help me to thank Thee\nas I ought.\"\n\nWhen Dr. Danforth made his next visit, he found Mrs. Douglass\nbolstered up in bed, Hepsey, who had for a day or two supplied\nMarion's place, arranging her still abundant hair. They were engaged\nin animated conversation when he entered. He had become deeply\ninterested in the strangers, having never forgotten the scenes\nof the night of his introduction to them. To no one had he ever\nmentioned the young mother's prayer, the burden of which was help\nfor herself from some great danger, not for relief and returning\nhealth to her child.\n\n\"You are better,\" he said, cheerfully, after having counted her\npulse.\n\n\"Yes, Doctor, I have had a restorative.\"\n\n\"Wine? I wish you had taken it sooner.\"\n\n\"No, Doctor. I have heard my daughter pray.\" The mother's face beamed\nwith joy.\n\n\"What is so great a beautifier as happiness?\" was the doctor's\nthought. \"She looks ten years younger.\" He spoke seriously, but with\nthe greatest tenderness, saying,\u2014\n\n\"I have heard her pray, and I think her prayers have been answered.\nShe has borne the trials of these sad weeks with a sweet submission\nand patience I have seldom seen surpassed.\"\n\n\"God has given her grace according to her day.\"\n\n\"Yes. He has indeed fulfilled His promise to the widow and orphan.\"\n\n\"My daughter is not a widow, Doctor,\" murmured the patient, her\ncheeks flushing. \"You have been such a kind friend, I may confide\nso much of our story to you. Juliette was married at the early age\nof fourteen, and her child was born within the year. Geenie was only\na few weeks old when his father left home for England, ostensibly\nto obtain a situation where he might support his family in the\nluxuries to which they had been accustomed. We hear from him\noccasionally, but have never seen him since.\"\n\n\"Unnatural monster!\" cried the doctor, indignantly. He thought\nof his own little girl, and wondered how she would endure such\na living trial,\u2014she to whom the loss of a pet dog had been the\ngreatest grief she had known.\n\nIt was a minute or two before he could rally sufficiently to remark,\n\"Eugene is better too. I am sorry to say my patient will soon be\ndismissing me.\"\n\n\"We have so few friends in America, we cannot give up your visits\nwithout regret, Doctor. But it is selfish for us to keep you longer\nthan is necessary, when so many need you.\"\n\n\"Is a physician to have no friends, then?\" queried the doctor,\nassuming a gruff voice. \"You will find it hard, madam, to get rid\nof me.\"  Then, with an emphatic shrug of his shoulders, he went away,\nand drove nearly a mile out of his course, while he was wondering\nwhat kind of a man Mr. Cheriton could be who would forsake a wife\nlike Juliette.\n\nIn another respect the young mother showed that she had taken God's\nword as the rule of her life. This was in the management of her\nchild. Formerly, when herself provoked at his rudeness or impatient\nat his exactions, she had dealt him a sudden blow, which, however,\nalways seemed to rouse his combativeness to such a degree that it\nrequired much skill to soothe him. She usually had to buy him off\nfrom the exhibition of temper by confectionery or some new toys.\nNow, feeling her own weakness, she daily sought strength from God.\nShe had noticed, too, how easily Mr. Angus and Marion had made him\nobey, not by blows or threats, but by a firm and gentle kindness,\nwhich won his confidence. It was her aim to imitate this method.\n\nAs soon as he was able to sit up, Eugene felt rather than understood\nthat his mother would no longer submit to be struck in the face\nor called \"bad mamma\" when his wishes were crossed. She talked\nto him, explained that he must obey, that Jesus Christ loved good\nchildren, and that she would teach him to pray, and ask this best\nFriend to help him be good.\n\nThere is a sacredness in religious teachings which always arrests\nthe attention of a child. No stories are so much delighted in\nas the stories of Joseph and Samuel and Daniel, and particularly\nthe story of our dear Saviour. Over and over again these stories\nmay be repeated; yet the little one never tires, but will ask\nnew questions concerning the wonderful characters.\n\nJuliette had thus a double incentive to read her Bible. She wished\nto find in the sacred pages strength for daily duties; and she also\nread for the instruction of her boy.\n\nMarion came in one day and found Geenie dressed in a wrapper, sitting\nin his mother's lap. In her hand she held the Good Book, and they\nwere talking eagerly of the story she had read.  Marion wrote\nafterwards, in her letter to Mr. Angus, that she seldom had seen\na prettier picture,\u2014the beauty of both so softened by the subjects\non which they were talking.\n\nMarion bent over and pressed her lips to the fair forehead of the\nyoung mother, and Eugene made them laugh by imitating her example.\n\n\"She's nicer than she was,\" he exclaimed, patting her cheek.\n\"She doesn't tell lies any more. She tells me when the medicine\nis going to taste badly,\u2014but I take it all the same.\"\n\nAfter talking for a few minutes with Mrs. Douglass, Marion hurried\naway, saying to herself,\u2014\n\n\"What a glorious change! What a purifier and refiner Christianity is!\nHow Mr. Angus will rejoice that Juliette has accepted her Saviour!\"\n\nBefore I close this chapter I must tell the reader that Marion showed\nMr. Alford's card to Mr. Lambert the very day Mrs. Douglass had given\nit to her, only asking whether he knew the man. He did not, but soon\nfound a man of his description was a frequenter of gambling-saloons\nand other disreputable places of resort, that the name Alford was one\nof several aliases, and that he was a man wholly unfit to be trusted.\n\nTo neither Mrs. Douglass nor her daughter did she repeat this\ninformation, the change in Juliette rendering it unnecessary.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nHOME IN THE STABLE LOFT.\n\n\"THIS is only a stable, Miss Marion.\"\n\n\"The place must be here, Hepsey: the number three hundred and sixty\nis plainly marked.\"\n\nThe young lady reverted to her paper again.\n\n\"'Esther Cole, three hundred sixty.' Three hundred fifty-eight,\nthe last house is marked. I must inquire.\"\n\nOne of the hostlers came forward to the door of the stable.\n\n\"Do you want a carriage, lady?\"\n\n\"I am looking for a number which ought to be here.\"\n\n\"Is it a tenement house you're after, ma'am?\"\n\n\"Yes, and a family by the name of Cole.\"\n\n\"It's aloft their house is. Walk right through ma'am, to the ladder\nbeyont.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" replied Marion, giving him a smile which quite won him.\n\"How very clear your floor is! I was never in a stable before.  Look,\nHepsey! See how nicely the carriages are covered; and really there is\nquite a pretty parlor,\u2014and such a row of whips hanging up.\"\n\n\"That room is for ladies and gentlemen to wait while their horses are\nharnessed, ma'am.\" The hostler was doing the honors in his best\nstyle. They had now reached the ladder, as he called it by which they\nwere to ascend to the room \"aloft,\" and he said, \"It's a poor place,\nma'am, for a lady the likes of yees.\"\n\n\"It's a heathenish place,\" retorted Hepsey \"Not fit for Christians to\nlive in. Are you sure, young man, that the steps are safe?\"\n\nHe laughed merrily, exhibiting a row of even white teeth.\n\n\"If it's afraid ye are, ma'am,\" he explained, looking at Marion,\n\"sure I'll bring 'em all down to yees,\u2014every mother's son of 'em.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, indeed! We will go up. Many thanks for your courtesy.\"\n\nHer face was all dimpled with smiles as she prepared to mount\nthe steps, while the hostler walked away, saying to himself,\u2014\n\n\"A rale lady that is. The man that owns her must be a happy one.\"\n\nAt the top of the steps a door opened into a large room rudely\npartitioned off from the hayloft and smelling strongly of the fumes\nfrom the stable below. Seven people called this room their home,\u2014\nfather, mother, grandmother, and four children of different ages\nunder eight years. Unlike many who live in more spacious apartments,\ntheir hearts were larger than their home, and they had recently\nwelcomed a poor waif thrown upon the cold charities of the world.\n\nEsther Sims was an orphan who had been connected with the mission\nSunday and sewing schools in which Miss Howard was interested.\nThis lady had never considered her very intelligent, but she had\na pretty face, with childish features, and an appealing glance in her\ndeep, gray eyes which made her many friends. Marion had lost sight\nof her for more than a year, and only the day before her visit to the\nstable learned her sad story.\n\nNot being very happy in the family where one of the mission-school\nteachers had placed her, she was easily persuaded to leave it for\nemployment in a cigar factory. There she formed the acquaintance of\na young fellow by the name of Cole, and soon after was married\nto him. If she had taken to heart the instructions of her faithful\nteacher, she would have distrusted the principles of a man whose\nfirst act in connection with her was deceit.\n\nAs they were both infants in the eye of the law, Esther being but\nsixteen, and her husband to be but eighteen, the clergyman refused\nto perform the ceremony unless one of the parents, was present and\nwished it. Leaving her sitting on the steps to the house, he hurried\noff, and soon returned with a woman who said she was his mother, and\nwho declared her willingness for her bye to be married.\n\nThey were married, and young Cole took his wife home to a house where\nhe had lodgings, where they had many a laugh about the ease with\nwhich he had found a mother in his emergency, he having given the\nwoman twenty-five cents to personate such an individual.\n\nEsther's character was so yielding that she got along for a few\nmonths without much trouble. She never knew what her husband's\nbusiness was, and often wondered why it kept him so long into the\nnight. At last he began to abuse her, and grew so irritable that she\nbegged to be taken back to her old place in the cigar factory, where,\nat least, she had kept herself from starving. Now young Cole had been\narrested for burglary, tried, and sentenced to prison for three\nyears, and Esther, innocent, ignorant even of his ever having\ncommitted crime, was suspected of being connected with the plot.\n\nEven Hepsey, who tried to harden her heart against pity, having been\nso often deceived, was affected by the utter abandonment to grief\nof the young girl. She was sitting on a bed of straw, with a child\nof her sister-in-law across her lap, her head fallen forward on her\nbreast, her tears falling on the sleeping babe's face, seemingly\nunconscious of the presence of any one.\n\n\"She's just gone daft with her trouble, poor thing,\" explained the\nwoman, as she saw the eyes of her visitors fastened on the\nchild-wife.\n\nIt was difficult to rouse her from her grief. When addressed,\nshe looked up frightened, supposing officers had come to take her\nto jail. Then, recognizing Miss Howard's kind face, she asked,\npiteously,\u2014\n\n\"Will they keep me in prison long?\"\n\nMrs. Cole took the babe from her arms, explaining, \"I thought maybe\n't would divert her thoughts,\" and then went on to say that Jo, her\nhusband's brother, had always been a bad boy. He had no business\nto deceive a young girl, and get married when he had no home.\nThat Esther was steady and honest, and was never up to knowing\nhis wicked goings-on. Then she touched her head and pointed to the\npoor girl in a significant manner. \"As to the robbery, she's as\ninnocent of it as a babe unborn.\"\n\nNo one could doubt it who witnessed the appealing glance in those\nwondering eyes; at least Miss Howard did not, but she could not\nat once decide what course to pursue to clear the child from the\nsuspicion of crime. Having ascertained that Mrs. Cole was willing\nto keep her for a few days, Miss Howard put a sum of money into her\nhands, and, promising to do what she could, took her leave.\n\n\"She's no more guilty than I am,\" exclaimed Hepsey, indignantly.\n\"That woman thinks she isn't bright, but it's only because she's been\ncowed down and abused till she darsn't say her soul is her own.\nI remember her when she was as tidy and spry as the best of 'em.\"\n\n\"Why, Hepsey, where did you ever see her?\"\n\n\"At the sewing school, ma'am, where I used to go in yer place while\nyer was in Grantbury; and Esther Sims, as they called her then,\nwas the most respectful and the best behaved of the whole class.\"\n\n\"Hepsey, do you think she could be trained by kindness to be a good\nservant?\" Marion's voice was abrupt in her earnestness.\n\n\"Indeed I do, ma'am. To be sure, it would take time, but it would be\na deed o' mercy, and like as not be the saving of her soul.\"\n\n\"Well, my dear, good Hepsey, you have helped me through a great many\ndifficulties. If we can get the poor child away from her\nsurroundings, you shall have the chance to try and save her.\"\n\nHepsey was startled. This was rather beyond what she had thought of.\nPresently she asked, abruptly,\u2014\n\n\"What will she do with her thief of a husband?\"\n\n\"She must be made absolutely free from him, of course. I will take\nadvice about it.\"\n\n\"I suppose you're thinking of yer own home in the country, ma'am, and\nthat is where I'm to train her,\" added Hepsey, with a sly glance into\nher young mistress's face.\n\nA rosy blush was the only reply.\n\n\n\nWhile Marion was hesitating to whom she should apply for advice\nin regard to poor Esther, Mr. Mitchell came home. He assured her\nthat by the laws of the State the husband's incarceration in prison\nrendered the wife free from the marriage tie. He also comforted her\nby saying, that even if Esther were arrested, unless some one\nappeared against her, the case could not be carried on. Marion,\nhowever, with the recollection of the child's look of terror at the\nvery thought of being arrested, was determined to prevent it\nif possible.\n\nSuddenly recalling to mind Mr. Lambert's promise to aid her\nin her works of charity, she sent James to his house to request him\nto call at his earliest convenience.\n\nWhen he came, which was almost immediately she was struck with\na change in his appearance; and inquired, anxiously,\u2014\n\n\"Are you ill, sir?\"\n\n\"What makes you ask that? I'm in rollicking health and spirits.\"\n\nShe doubted it, however, for even while talking with her he seemed\nto fall into fits of revery.\n\n\"What a fool she was to marry so young!' he said, with a sneer;\n\"but, as you say, that can't be helped now. My advice is, let him go\nto\u2014anywhere that will keep him out of her way. But what is to be\ndone with the child?\"\n\n\"I think Hepsey means to take her,\" replied Marion, showing all her\ndimples. \"I hope she can be got off without going to court.\"\n\n\"Hepsey, hem!  Well, never fear. I'll see the judge and settle\nthat. If he won't believe my word, I'll make him go to the stable,\nmount the ladder, and see for himself.\"\n\nHe leaned back in his chair, laughing heartily but Marion noticed\nthat there was no ring of mirth in his laugh.\n\nSuddenly she said, \"O Mr. Lambert! Are you acquainted with Mr. Regy?\nI hear of him everywhere among the poor, and I long to see him.\"\n\n\"Better not,\" he grumbled. \"Take my word for it, he is\na good-for-nothing fellow. I know him well.\"\n\n\"You must be prejudiced, Mr. Lambert. His heart is just as warm as\nyours; indeed, in many things he must be like you: he delights to\nrelieve suffering and he delights to\u2014to\u2014what shall I call it?\"\n\n\"Call it abuse; that's the right name. He's a hard-shelled\nold sinner. He tries to salve his conscience by giving away what he\ndon't want. Keep clear of him, as you would of the plague. Now I must\nbe going, or I sha'n't see that judge.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE SIMPLE PRAYER,\n\nTHE very next day he called again.\n\n\"It's all right,\" he said. \"The girl is free to go where she chooses.\nNow I want to ask you a question. Where do you go to church?\"\n\n\"I attend -Church. Dr. M- is my pastor.\"\n\n\"But you're not a member.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! I have been for a great many years.\"\n\nHis countenance expressed real disappointment. \"I could have sworn\nyou didn't believe in such humbug.\"\n\n\"O Mr. Lambert, don't say so!\" Marion'! eyes filled with tears.\nShe had always supposed that he was a Christian and a member\nof some church.\n\n\"I've never seen any cant about you. In fact, I took it for granted\nthat you were a good, common-sense girl. Why, all that nonsense\nabout joining a church and taking an oath that you believe such and\nsuch doctrines has exploded long ago!\"\n\n\"Don't you believe any doctrines?\"\n\n\"I believe this: that it's the life we must look to. Why, I've seen\nmen,\u2014and women too,\u2014who swallowed the whole creed, covers and all,\nstiff and straitlaced, thought it a sin to smile, but who wouldn't\ngive a penny to a poor man to save his soul. I'm sick of this talk\nabout doctrine. Give me the life,\u2014that's what I look at.\"\n\n\"But how shall we know how to live unless we study God's Word?\nWe have exact directions there,\u2014and these are what I call doctrines.\nI am sure you believe that Jesus Christ came to set us an example\nof a perfect life.\"\n\n\"I'll allow that for the sake of argument.\"\n\n\"Did He ever sin?\"\n\n\"Not that I ever heard of, but I don't know much about it.\"\n\n\"Can you name any other man who ever lived without sin?\"\n\n\"Perhaps not. I always said the world was up side down. But what does\nthat prove? I don't know what you are driving at.\"\n\n\"Then the claim of Jesus Christ himself, that He was the Son of God,\nin a peculiar sense,\u2014that no man can come to the Father except\nthrough Him,\u2014is a claim we must acknowledge.\"\n\n\"I don't know anything about that. You are taking too much\nfor granted.\"\n\n\"Why, if any other man should claim to be divine, saying, in plain\nterms, 'I and my Father are one,' he would be seized and punished\nfor blasphemy. It would be monstrous, presumptuous in the last\ndegree. The fact that Jesus Christ claimed that he was one with the\nFather, the fact that he was a sinless being, and could not therefore\nbe such a wicked impostor, that he proved his assertion by his life,\nhis teachings, and his power to work miracles, is the great central\ntruth on which Christianity is based. If you read your Bible\nprayerfully, as I earnestly hope you do, you must concede so much.\"\n\nMr. Lambert twirled his glove, looked grave, and then said, \"Well,\nwhat of that?\"\n\n\"How do you suppose the world came to be upside down, Mr. Lambert?\"\n\n\"Can't say. Can vouch for the fact, though. Everything and everybody\nis helter-skelter.\"\n\n\"Including Mr. Regy, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Yes; he is as bad as any of them.\"\n\n\"And needs a power out of himself to put him right.\"\n\n\"That's true.\"\n\n\"This power we have in our blessed Saviour. He came to save us from\nsin and from all its dismal consequences.\"\n\n\"Well, admit that too, for the sake of argument.\"\n\n\"Now, my dear friend,\" urged Marion, seizing his arm and gazing\nwistfully in his face, \"believing so much, as I am sure you do, you\nhave the very root and foundation of the Christian doctrine. A good\nlife must and will grow out of such a belief. Jesus Christ, who was\nrich, became poor for our sakes. He sacrificed ease, comfort, home on\nearth, and all that makes life dear. I say nothing of the glories of\nheaven, the worship of myriads of holy beings, which He willingly\nexchanged for disgrace, ignominy, and death. I am only speaking now\nof Him in His human nature.  He loved us to that extent He was\nwilling to do and bear all this for us, to make us happy here and\nhereafter. We must acknowledge ourselves degraded indeed, if we are\nnot willing to do something to show our appreciation of such love.\nWhat does He ask of us? Only that we return His love, and cherish\nkindly feelings toward each other. Love God, and our neighbor as\nourselves. This is the life you so rightly urge that we must live.\nIt flows naturally from the doctrine. Any other motives than love to\nGod and to our fellows fail of power to help us live this life.\n\n\"You see I have not said a word about the theories that man,\nin different stages of the world, has built on these fundamental\ntruths. There always has been and always will be different ways\nof explaining God's truth; but speculation is outside of fundamental\ntruth. Man a sinner, Christ a Saviour, is enough for me. Any man,\nwoman, or child, really desirous of showing his love to Christ,\ncan find rules in God's Word to guide him in every emergency.\"\n\n\"About joining a certain church, for instance.\" There was\nan ill-concealed sneer in Mr. Lambert's voice.\n\n\"Yes, we have the example of companies of disciples gathering\nthemselves together to recount what God had done for them.\nOur Saviour himself honored and showed His approbation of these\ngatherings by being present with them. The most affecting of all His\ndying messages to His disciples was that they should eat bread\nas a symbol of his body broken, and drink wine as a symbol of His\nblood shed for them. This was to be a continual reminder of what He\nhad done. I can say from my own experience, that this communing\nwith Christ in His sacrifice brings Him nearer to me not only\nas a Saviour but as a friend, or elder brother, than anything else\ncould do.\"\n\n\"I don't see any Christianity in one soul de-crying another, and\ncalling each other hard names.\"\n\n\"I don't see any Christianity in one man stealing his neighbor's\ncoat, or his property of any kind. One act is as much Christian\nas the other. If the disciples of Christ would only live up to the\nexample He set for us, one man would never decry or call his neighbor\nhard names merely because they differ on non-essentials.\n\n\"People's likes and dislikes are as wide apart as their countenances.\nBecause one man has blue eyes, he needn't decry a man who has black.\nAll that is required of him is that he shall use aright the eyes God\nhas given him. One man is so constituted that in his worship of God\nhe prefers liturgy and certain prescribed forms. This mode, which we\ncall Episcopalian, helps his fervor, and the very forms assist him to\nkeep his mind from wandering.\n\n\"Others find these written prayers, etc., irksome and monotonous:\nthey like more stir and bustle; such become Methodists. God never\nexpected or intended that we should all be patterned in the same\nmould. Social intercourse would be very tame if we were. Mr. Regy,\nfor instance, has his own method of relieving the poor, and I have\nmine,\" she added, smiling.\n\n\"Mr. Regy is an old humbug,\" growled Mr. Lambert. \"I'm always ashamed\nwhen I've been in his society. He's the most provoking man\nI'm acquainted with.\"\n\n\"And yet he is in a fair way to attain a high position: 'He that\nhumbleth himself shall be exalted.'\"\n\nMr. Lambert's face crimsoned, and he muttered some unintelligible\nwords. He caught up his hat and cane in a hurry, when she said,\ntenderly,\u2014\n\n\"May I say something to you, my dear friend?\"\n\n\"Humph! That's cool! Here you've been driving into me with hammer and\ntongs, and now you ask very meekly, may I say something to you?'\nWell, say on; a few hits more or less won't kill me.\"\n\n\"It is only this, dear sir. When we accept Jesus Christ as our own\npersonal Saviour, He will flood our souls with such peace and joy\nas we never before conceived. His love helps us to bear trials,\nto meet disappointment with true fortitude, to look forward without\nfear to the time when we shall walk through the dark valley. I shall\npray daily that such love as this may fill your soul.\"\n\nHis face became so convulsed while she made this personal appeal\nthat she was really alarmed. Putting a violent restraint on himself,\nhe rallied and exclaimed in a light tone,\u2014\n\n\"You were cut out for a theological professor I was not aware of this\naccomplishment.\" He would not notice the hand she held out to him,\nbut with a gruff \"Good day,\" left the room.\n\nAfter his departure, Marion found herself so shaken that she could\nscarcely collect her thoughts. She went to her chamber, and with\ntears plead for her friend. \"O God, show Thy self to him in the face\nof thy Son, Jesus Christ.\" This was the burden of her petitions.\n\nFortunately for her, this was the day of the week when the foreign\nmail came in. A letter from her dearest friend would restore\nher spirits.  While she was waiting for it, thoughts of Mr Lambert\nwould intrude, and she was surprised that, knowing him so intimately\nas she had for some years, she was so little acquainted with his\nearly life. \"I wish I could comfort him as daughter would. Did he\nreally disbelieve every thing, as he pretended?\"\n\nShe at last put on her hat and, summoning Hepsey, went to call\non Esther. She was recovering from her fright, and seemed relieved\nthat she was freed from a bond which had proved such a burden to her.\n\n\"I advise her to go back to her old name again,\" explained Mrs. Cole.\n\"Esther Sims she is to be from this time.\"\n\nMiss Howard promised that Hepsey should accompany Esther to\na clothing store, where suitable outfit would be provided for her,\nwhich she could pay for with her after-earnings.\n\n\"Am I to go into the cigar factory?\" inquired Esther, with a shudder.\n\n\"Oh, no! You are to live with me. Hepsey has adopted you,\" laughing.\n\"I can speak for her that she will be strict, but kind.\"\n\nEsther looked up suddenly, as though she scarcely understood, but,\nseeing the bright smile on Miss Howard's face, her own grew radiant\nthen, with a quick movement, she threw herself on her knees before\nthe lady, while tears of joy ran down her cheeks.\n\n\"Poor child!\" murmured Marion. \"She has known so little the comfort\nof a home.\"\n\n\"Or having real friends to care for her,\" interrupted Hepsey, wiping\nher own eyes.\n\nIt was indeed a change in Esther's life, difficult for her, at least,\nto comprehend. For days after she went to live with her kind friends,\nshe seemed to herself to be in a dream. Nothing made it seem so real\nas the prayers Mr. Mitchell offered when they all gathered around the\nfamily altar. As she told Hepsey afterward, she would go without food\nrather than to lose the opportunity of being present.\n\n\"Do you recollect a little prayer you taught us at the mission\nschool, Miss Howard?\"\n\nThis lady and Esther were sitting at their sewing when the child\ntimidly asked the question. She was gradually becoming accustomed\nto kind words, losing the habit of starting, when suddenly addressed,\nas though she feared a blow.\n\nEsther's hands trembled with eagerness as she asked the question.\n\n\"Do you mean the prayer which begins, 'Help me, dear Lord'?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am.\" The child closed her eyes, bent her head forward just\nin the old way she had been taught, and repeated the whole prayer\nwith a solemnity and fervor which deeply affected the hearer.\n\n\"Help me, dear Lord, this day, to be honest, faithful, and true\ntoward my fellows, and above all to love Thee, blessed Saviour,\nwith all my heart. Help me to remember that God sees all that I do,\nand hears all that I say, and that He is able to protect and guide\nall those who put their trust in Him. For Jesus Christ's sake, we ask\nthis. Amen.\"\n\nWith a half-checked sob the child went on, gradually forgetting her\ntimidity, and giving to her faithful teacher an insight into her\npoor, lonely, repressed life which was never forgotten.\n\n\"O Miss Howard! it frightens me to think how bad I was at the mission\nschool. I used to whisper and set the girls to laughing, and waste my\nthread, and do so many naughty things. Miss Farnum ought to have put\nme out. But if she had,\" sighing, \"I never should have learned that\ngood prayer\" (speaking with great awe) \"and then what should I have\ndone when I was in such trouble?\n\n\"I used to kneel in the corner and repeat it over and over till it\nseemed like I heard Jesus' voice say, 'I will, child.' Once when\nhe\"\u2014she always alluded to her husband as he\u2014\"came home drunk, and\nbeat me, I worried 'cause I couldn't get to my corner and kneel down.\nI did manage to sit up in bed and put my hands together as you told\nus, and I said it over and over in my heart. I thought, maybe as He\nknows all about us, He'd know how it hurt me to move, and wouldn't\nmind if I did cry and moan, 'cause I couldn't help it.\"\n\n\"My poor child. I am very glad you knew where to go for comfort.\nDid you ever try to form a prayer for yourself?\"\n\n\"No, ma'am, not a prayer. I wasn't fit for it, you know; but when he\nwas swearing and threatening to kill me,\u2014not him, but rum,\u2014I used\nto whisper, O God, pity me. Dear Jesus, take away the bad heart that\nmakes him treat me so. Once after I had asked God to make him good\nand help me to be patient, he came and looked at me as I lay on the\nstraw. He wasn't drunk then, and he said, 'I'm sorry for your sake\nyou ever saw me, Esther.' His voice was real kind, like as though\nhe pitied me. When he'd gone, I told Jesus about it. Was it\nnaughty?\" as she saw Miss Howard suddenly put her handkerchief\nto her eyes, \"and I loved Jesus Christ so much that I forgot all\nthe pain in my head and my side, so I fell asleep.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nESTHER'S FORGIVENESS.\n\nNO one but a faithful Christian worker in Christ's vineyard\ncan understand the encouragement such a revelation as that described\nin the last chapter is to those who have been for years sowing\ngood seed and waiting for the harvest.\n\nEsther, for years a member of the mission Sunday school,\u2014light and\nfrivolous, seemingly almost incapable of retaining any of the\nteachings repeated Sunday after Sunday in her hearing,\u2014had been\nimpressed by something in this simple prayer which the gracious\nspirit of God had fixed in her memory. It seemed to have been the\n\"word in season,\" which had come back to her in her hours of deepest\nneed, and proved to her in truth that God was really a loving Father\nwatching over and pitying His sorrowing children.\n\nMarion related the incident which had so deeply affected her to her\nfriend in England adding, \"I suppose I may learn from this a lesson\nof trust. We have the glorious privilege of sowing the seed in the\nhearts of these poor waifs. It is God's part, which He has promised\nto do, to help it to sink into the light soil and spring up\nto everlasting life.\n\n\"How many times I have heard people say, 'Such work does no good.\nThe influences around these poor creatures are all against them.\nOnce in seven days they repeat the command not to swear, not to\nsteal, not to lie, and every hour of the other six days they hear\nthe vilest oaths and are witness to a breach of every other command.\nIf it were any truths but God's own truths, which He has promised\nto bless, we might well be discouraged; but in the case of Esther,\nwhen to human appearance all her surroundings were against her,\none little seed of divine truth sank into her heart and bore such\nwonderful fruit that I take fresh courage and feel that I can labor\nwith fresh diligence.\"\n\nNever in all her acquaintance with Mrs. Douglass had our young friend\nenjoyed her visits there as now. The lady had recovered from\nher recent illness, and was able to take a short walk every day,\nsupported by her daughter's arm. In Mrs. Cheriton's countenance\nthere was an added beauty. Her eyes no longer flashed defiantly,\nas of old. Her head seemed to have forgotten its fashion of throwing\nitself back, as she haughtily refused any request which crossed her\nown inclinations. Upon her brow there was a sweet serenity that spoke\nto the observer of inward peace.\n\nI have already spoken of the change in her treatment of her boy.\nHer resolutions made during that dreadful night were never forgotten.\nConscience, once aroused, did not slumber again. She prayed earnestly\nthat she might have help to command her own temper, and thus be able\nto teach Geenie to conquer his. The resemblance in many of her traits\nto her uncle Henreich, which has caused her mother hours of anxious\nforebodings, grew less and less every day. She saw that her daughter\nwas making a great effort to correct her faults, and that in\nher government of her son she was kind but firm.\n\nFormerly, as Marion went into their room, she was aware that her\nentrance had interrupted some unpleasant discussion. Mrs. Douglass\nwould either be trembling with agitation or in tears while\nMrs. Cheriton was flushed and defiant.\n\nNow what a pleasing change! The two ladies sat at their work,\nregarding each other with the tender affection natural to the tie\nbetween them, while Eugene, sometimes boisterous indeed, was growing\nevery day more willing to yield to authority.\n\nOne morning Marion called on her way to her pupils, who, by the way,\nwere making their best efforts to show her they appreciated her\nself-denying efforts, as she had informed them she intended to resign\nher place in the school. She met Eugene, dressed for a walk, with a\nyoung companion from the house; and descending the stairs, found the\nladies improving the time in reading an interesting book.\n\n\"I want you to tell Miss Howard about Geenie's prayer,\" remarked\nMrs. Douglass to her daughter.\n\n\"I really hope,\" began Mrs. Cheriton, \"that he understands what\nI have told him, that God sees us, though we can't see Him. Yesterday\nafternoon we were sitting here with the door open into the next room.\nI heard a noise like driving a nail, but supposed he was busy with\nhis toys, and presently I heard his voice. We both listened and heard\nhim say,\u2014\n\n\"'God, don't look this way! Turn your eyes the other side. I'm very\nnaughty, God. Don't see me! Look over there! I'm SO naughty, God,\nI don't want you to see.'\"\n\n\"By this time I concluded it was best for me to see what the\nhammering meant. I went in and found him driving tacks into the\ntrunk.  He made no resistance when I took away the hammer, but looked\nashamed when I said,\u2014\n\n\"'O Geenie! How could you do so?'\"\n\n\"You can imagine how he would have resisted once,\" added the boy's\ngrandmother. \"He would have kicked and screamed and tried to bite.\"\n\n\"I am thankful those days are past,\" murmured Marion, noticing the\nmother's flush of painful recollection caused by this allusion.\n\"He will reward you for all the pains you take to control him.\"\n\n\"He has already,\" exclaimed the young mother, clasping her hands\nin her impulsive manner. \"Geenie was never so affectionate as now.\nI do believe that he never loved me so well as when I had to punish\nhim the other day. He hung around me, kissing me again and again.\nWhen he saw tears in my eyes, he took his own little handkerchief\nto wipe them away, saying repeatedly,\u2014\n\n\"'Geenie will be good all the time, mamma. Geenie won't make mamma\ncry any more.'\"\n\nMarion was sometimes very curious to know whether, with the many\nobvious changes in Mrs Cheriton's character, her feelings of aversion\nto her husband remained. She was well aware that many of the former\ndisagreements with the mother arose from the fact that Mrs. Douglass\nurged Juliette to write kindly to her husband, from whom they had\nheard within a few months. To be sure, he had not sent them any\nintelligence, but in a newspaper accidentally falling under their\nnotice, they had seen his name and knew he was then in New Orleans.\nIf there was any return of affection on the wife's part, no one knew\nit, for on this subject she maintained the most rigid reserve.\n\nIndeed, Mrs. Cheriton could never be called a frank person. It was\nonly under the influence of very strong emotion that she gave\nutterance to her deepest feelings. From the first, Marion had noticed\nthis trait, and wondered at it in one so young.\n\nWith another child-wife it was exactly the reverse. To her earliest\nfriends\u2014Miss Howard and Hepsey\u2014Esther laid bare all that was\nin her childish and grateful heart.\n\nMarion often came upon her, singing in a low musical voice, a refrain\nfrom the hymn sung at family prayers, and when spoken to she had\na way of looking up with her large, deep-set eyes, and smiling,\nas she said softly,\u2014\n\n\"I'm so happy, ma'am. Everybody is so kind to me.\" And this was while\nthe great ridges on her slender body, caused by her husband's brutal\nbeatings, were still unhealed. In regard to this husband she did not\nhesitate to speak, though at first with tears.\n\n\"Would it be wicked, ma'am, to let him think I belong to him now?\"\n\nShe asked this one morning when she was braiding her young mistress's\nabundant tresses and could keep her own face concealed.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Marion was startled and spoke in a sharp voice.\n\n\"I mean, ma'am, he's shut up now and can't get rum; and he was kind,\nonce; and wouldn't he feel better if he knew that I cared for him\na little?\"\n\n\"You said you did not care for him; that you never wanted to see him\nagain. Would you go back to him? Would you submit to his ill\ntreatment, his profanity and abuse?\"\n\nEsther was silent, and glancing in the mirror, her mistress saw that\nher eyes were full of tears. At last she said, in a tone of deep\nsorrow,\u2014\n\n\"I'm sorry God heard me say that. I was angry at the bad rum, and\nI was afraid of being shut up in a cell with him. I\u2014I asked Jesus\nto put my naughty feelings away. I\u2014I found the place in your\nprayer-book, ma'am,\u2014I mean the marrying place. It's solemn words,\nma'am; I didn't know that marrying was such a solemn thing. I was too\nyoung, and I had no mother, and my mates thought it would be fun\nto be married, and I didn't remember that I should have to stay\nmarried whether I liked it or not and so when he praised me and said\nhe loved me best of all the girls in our court, though they all\nwanted him, I said I'd go to the parson. I had no call, ma'am, to let\nhim say that bad woman was my mother. She was old Nan, the worst\nwoman among them all, but that is over now. I'd die before I'd do\nso naughty again, but, ma'am, the minister asked me those solemn\nwords, and I said yes, so I've been thinking that,\" sighing heavily,\n\"'for better for worse, till death us do part,' means that I do\nbelong to him, ma'am and so I\u2014\" Her voice was stopped suddenly for\nshe fell on her knees, and with her head hidden in her arms, sobbed\nwithout restraint.\n\nMarion's own tears flowed. As she told the story afterward\nto Mrs. Mitchell and Hepsey, \"When I saw her in a perfect abandonment\nof grief, sobbing her heart out at the recollection of the man\nwho had so abused his trust, I resolved that, if the law could\nprevent it, she never should live with him again. But at the same\nmoment I felt for her such an increase of respect that folded her\nin my arms and kissed her.\"\n\nA few days after this Miss Howard was dressing to go out when Esther\ncame forward, blushing painfully, and holding out an awkwardly folded\npaper, asked,\u2014\n\n\"May I go out, ma'am, to put this into the box at the corner?\"\n\nThe lady took the letter and glanced her eye over the address,\n\"Joseph Cole, Sing-Sing Prison, Auburn, New York State.\" The writing\nwas scarcely intelligible, but Marion was not thinking of that.\nShe could not endure the thought that Esther in her childish trust\nmight bind herself irrevocably to his future.\n\n\"His sister told me how to write that,\" murmured Esther, in a\nhesitating tone. \"'T isn't my place, ma'am, to ask you to give your\ntime to it; but if you'll please to read it, and say I may send it\nto him, I shall be very happy.\"\n\nThis was what Marion wished to do. She seated herself instantly and\nunfolded the paper, not yet sealed, Esther meanwhile ruffling the\nedge of her apron as though her life depended on her doing it\nquickly.\n\nMarion had never perused a letter in which all the rules of grammar\nand spelling were so wholly set at defiance; but seldom had she read\none which touched her heart more. It was very brief, but to the\npoint, and correcting the spelling, read as follows:\u2014\n\nDear Jo,\u2014\n\nIt's a good while now since you and me see each other.\nI thought, maybe, you'd like to know that a dear, kind lady, as used\nto teach me in the Mission, is giving me a home. I'm happy, or I\nwould be if I could forget where you are. I'm learning to pray, Jo;\nand when I say my prayers I never forget that God can look right into\nyour cell and see you, though I can't; so I tell him all about you,\nand ask him to make this the best time in your life, as it may be if\nyou will learn to love Him. You are not yet twenty years old, and\nwhen you come out of prison you will be young enough to begin life\nagain. This is what I am praying for you all the time.\n\nYour little wife, ESTHER.\n\n\"If she had left out the words 'your little wife,'\" said Marion\nto herself, \"I would not have objected to her writing him for once.\"\nThen glancing up, she saw Esther's eyes fixed upon her with a\nmournfully earnest expression, and without another word went to her\ndesk, took out an envelope, enclosed the letter in it, copied the\naddress, and let it go. Afterward she confessed, \"I believe at that\nmoment I felt far more unforgiving toward the prisoner than the\ninnocent victim of his brutality did.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nGAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS.\n\nALL this time the building committee in Grantbury were pressing on\nthe work most vigorously. The edifice was unlike any other in the\ntown. It was of Gothic architecture. The walls were, as I have\nmentioned of native stone, the windows high, narrow, with stained\nglass.  \"They will have a cross on the spire,\" said one, \"I'm sure\nof it, and I'll tell you what it will end in, they'll all go\nto Rome together.\"\n\nThe work proceeded so well, notwithstanding these prophecies, that it\nwas hoped it would be ready for occupation by Christmas. Mr. Angus's\ntaste was consulted during the entire progress.\n\nThe plan had been copied and sent to him for approval.  All the\ncommittee agreed that some suggestions made by him were a great\nimprovement on the original plan. In his last letter he had told them\nhe expected to sail for home the 17th of September, and this the\ncommittee said would be in time to decide about frescoing and other\ninterior decorations. No member of the parish, outside of\nMr. Asbury's family, was aware that a new tie had been formed which\nwould strengthen his affection to the country and home of his\nadoption. A few persons knew that a cellar was being dug on a\nhouse-lot not two hundred feet from the new church, but these few\nsupposed Mr. Asbury was going to erect a house to rent, as he was\noften seen directing the workmen. The fact was that \"our church,\"\nwith its rafters exposed to view, its spire towering every day nearer\nto heaven, its ample porch of solid stone, absorbed all the interest\nof the congregation.\n\nEvery week a letter came to the church or the Sunday school in which\nthe pastor spoke most hopefully of what they might together\naccomplish for the cause of Christ. He told them what he had seen\nin England and Scotland, among congregations he had visited,\nof united effort. He reminded them, that if they so labored and\nprayed, God would surely add His blessing, until there was not one in\nthe limits of the town who did not love Christ and try to serve Him.\n\nTo the Sunday-school children he wrote of schools in London and\nEdinburgh, where all were wide awake with interest to gather in the\npoor waifs who knew nothing of Jesus except His name, which they\nheard mingled with the most dreadful oaths. He spoke of the reward\nthese workers received in their own hearts, and urged them to follow\nso worthy an example. He mentioned at the close of this letter that\nhe had subscribed for one of the best English Sunday-school papers,\nand offered it for a reward to the child who would bring into their\nown Sunday school the greatest number of scholars. These must be from\nfamilies not connected with any other church.\n\nFor the first time in her life dear little Ethel had a secret, and it\nwas her own Marion who told her of it.\n\nBy and by, when the new house was done, she knew that her dear\nMr. Angus would bring Marion from the city and go there to live.\nShe knew that a beautiful conservatory was to be built on the south\nside of the new house, and that Marion's flowers and birds would be\nbrought there. She knew that Hepsey and Esther and James would all be\nin the pretty home at the new Ingleside, and that she could go to see\nthem as often as she pleased. She knew why it was that Marion came\nfrom New York so often, and why papa spent so much time talking with\nher about some large charts spread out on the dining-room table,\nabout an oriel window here, and a balcony there, and why they always\nwaited till she was in bed before they walked over to the spot where\nthe new house was being built.\n\nOne thing more connected with this wonderful secret she had been told\nlater, and this came near letting the whole thing out, which would\nindeed have set the congregation connected with the First Church into\na blaze of excitement. Marion had promised that on a certain\noccasion, not very far distant, she should go to New York with her\npapa and mamma and Annie and Gardner, and stand up with Marion\nas bridesmaid, while she promised to love Mr. Angus and take good can\nof him as long as she lived.\n\nIt was something to be remembered, the wonder and delight of the\nchild as she came to understand all this. Her eyes grew darker, and\nher whole face radiant, as she glanced slowly from one to another,\nand her mamma added,\u2014\n\n\"Yes, darling, cousin Marion is going to live in Grantbury and be\nMr. Angus's wife.\"\n\n\"And I'll be his wife, too,\" she exclaimed, with a little hop of\ndelight. \"I'll promise to love him and take care of him. He can be\nthe broom to both of us.\"\n\n\"The broom!\"\n\n\"Yes, mamma, you said that she would be the bride and he the broom.\"\n\n\"Groom, you mean, you precious pet,\" said Marion, catching the child\nin her arms and hiding her burning cheeks in Ethel's neck.\n\nMamma thought this too good to keep from papa, and even threatened\nMarion that she would acquaint Mr. Angus with the double honor\nthat awaited him; but the young lady's entreaties prevailed, and the\nletter went off without the joke.\n\nThe rise of ground on which the new church was being built was in a\npart of the town not yet much occupied by families. The road from the\nold church, school-house, etc., to the depot wound gracefully around\nthe foot of the hill, and had been widened and improved within a\nshort time. It was about one quarter of a mile to the railroad\nstation, and an equal distance from the village, which had grown up\nin what was once the centre. Prior to the existence of the railroad,\nit was Mr. Asbury's most profitable grass land, and he now owned as\nfar as the depot on one side, and quite down to Shawsheen Lake on the\nother. The elevated situation of the land, together with the\npicturesque views it commanded, rendered it peculiarly eligible\nfor building lots. Speculators from the city had already made\nfavorable offers to the owner for the whole field, but, with the\nexception of one hundred feet front by one hundred and fifty deep,\ndonated to the church, and a house-lot nearly four times the size,\nnext adjoining, Mr. Asbury refused to sell.\n\nMr. Angus's letters to Marion kept her informed of his visits\nto London, Edinburgh, and Glasgow, where he was studying into the\nbest-approved methods of church work in reference to his own labors\namong his chosen people. He told her of sewing schools, not only for\nchildren, but for mothers, where they were taught to cut and make\ngarments for boys and girls, given simple recipes for cooking, and\ntaught in general how to make home happy. He narrated cases where,\nin consequence of these teachings, the husband had been won from the\nalehouse to the pleasures of his own fireside, where the savory soups\nthe wives had learned to make had weaned them from liquor: and made\nthem into peace-abiding citizens.\n\nHe wrote of libraries and reading-rooms established for the poor, and\nalso of societies for social pleasures, amusement, etc., to which all\nwere invited to contribute their share.\n\n\"I accompanied a friend,\" he wrote, \"to one of these gatherings,\nwhich reminded me of a description Annie Asbury gave me of one of\nyours. The ball accommodated about five hundred, and was as full\nas was comfortable. Fathers and mothers, and not a few grandparents,\nwere there, with youth not under fourteen. Entertainments for the\nlittle ones are provided on separate occasions. I cannot describe\nto you vividly enough the inspiration I derived from the scene,\u2014\nthe smiling faces, the merry voices, the ring of real, healthy\nenjoyment of the whole company. Surely I thought, to provide\nhealthful and innocent amusement for young and old is an important\npart of church work. To stand still a moment and listen to the hum\nand buzz of cheerful voices, with now and then a burst of laughter,\nsent a glow of kindly interest for every one present through my whole\nbeing.\n\n\"There were games and puzzles and comic readings with an occasional\ntragedy, and singing from boys in chorus, and boys or girls in solos,\nand a couple of street boys with bagpipes, until the allotted hour\nto close arrived. Then I as a stranger from the far-off America,\nwas requested to make a brief address and close with prayer. When the\nbell calling to order was rung, I was surprised to see how quickly\nevery one found a seat, waiting to hear what was said.\n\n\"I had just commenced to tell them about my home across the water,\nwhen a small hand near me was raised, and a boy asked timidly,\u2014\n\n\"'Tell us about the bears and Indians, mister.'\"\n\n\"I had some difficulty in convincing them that in the United States\nwe had cities and towns, as they had, and that our bears were kept\nin cages or pits, as theirs were. I told them I was very glad to be\nwith them when they were having such a merry time; and that I wanted\nto join my thanks with theirs to the kind Christian ladies and\ngentlemen who had provided such an entertainment for us.\n\n\"To the loving Father who watches over us all, to the sympathizing\nSaviour who endured temptation and want that He might know how to\nhelp us, to the gracious Spirit, who is ready to lead us into every\ngood way, I then committed them, and we separated.\n\n\"I forgot to tell you that I was persuaded in the course of the\nevening to sing a comic song, which I learned while in New York.\nOf course this 'brought down the house.' How would my dear little\nEthel have looked could she have seen me?\"\n\nIn another letter he said:\u2014\n\n\"I have conversed with many clergymen and other Christians of ripe\nexperience on this same subject of amusement. All classes of persons,\nwith rare exception of peculiar individuals, agree that some\nrelaxation is necessary to a healthful state of body and mind. If no\ninnocent and proper amusements are provided, young and old, rich and\npoor, will seek entertainments for themselves, and too often these\nwill be the lowest class of theatres, shows, etc.\n\n\"Let Christian parents and teachers make it a part of the business\nof education to provide suitably for this want of our nature, and\nthese objectionable, immoral places would have to be closed for want\nof patronage. In the neighborhood of the church where was the\nentertainment I have described, a low theatre of the worst\ndescription had been abandoned, simply because the ground was\noccupied in a worthier way. I am looking forward to inaugurating\nsome plan of this kind, and I confidently expect help from a merry\ngirl from whom I purchased my first pair of gloves in Grantbury.\"\n\n[Illustration: SHE WAS FINISHING A LETTER TO SEND BY THE STEAMER,\nWHEN DR. ROSS WAS ANNOUNCED. Page 349]\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTRUE FRIENDSHIP.\n\nIT was a sultry August day. Most of Miss Howard's acquaintances\nwere out of the city. She had just returned from Grantbury, and was\nfinishing a letter to send by the steamer, when Dr. Ross was\nannounced.\n\n\"One minute, Doctor,\" pleaded Marion, sealing her letter and ringing\nfor James to take it to the post; \"now I will have a glass\nof lemonade for you in a trice.\"\n\n\"I met Hepsey,\" he said, \"or I should not have known you were\nat home.\"\n\n\"Your call is very opportune, sir,\" said Marion smiling, as she\nadded, \"I want to ask about Annie Leman. Is she as good a teacher\nas you expected?\"\n\n\"Next to yourself, Miss Howard,\" bowing formally, \"I do not know\nher equal.\"\n\n\"Then you will add your influence to mine to secure for her\nthe position I am about to resign in Mrs. La Vergne's school?\"\n\n\"With great pleasure, if you will promise for Miss Leman that she\nwill still teach my daughters. But why do you resign?\"\n\nMarion had more than once asked herself whether she were treating\nher father's old friend with sufficient frankness in not telling him\nof her engagement to Mr. Angus; and now his question gave her the\nopportunity to do so; so with rosy cheeks she said,\u2014\n\n\"I'm going to leave the city before long.\"\n\n\"Not permanently, I hope?\"\n\n\"I am going to be married, Doctor.\"\n\n\"Wh-e-e-w-w!\"\n\nMarion laughed till all her dimples came into view.\n\n\"To whom, in the name of wonder?\"\n\n\"To a clergyman, a country parson.\"\n\n\"Just like you. I might have known no other man would have dared\naspire. Well, tell me all about it. You'll ask me to the wedding,\nof course. Is he presentable, in person, I mean?\"\n\n\"You shall have a chance to judge for yourself, Doctor. I will tell\nyou one thing about him. He has recently declined a call to a large\nchurch in London, with a generous salary, preferring to remain with\nhis country flock; and when they offered to make the support received\nfrom them equal to the other rather than to lose him, he declined\nthat, too, insisting that there would be so many calls for money\nin connection with church work that he preferred they would give that\nway.\"\n\nThe Doctor laughed. \"I see he has found out the method to gain your\nconfidence. Where is the parish? I shall expect an invitation\nto visit you and hear your parson preach.\"\n\n\"When I have a home of my own, Doctor, you will always be welcome.\"\n\n\"Thank you. You are a good girl; and if you can say my old friend,\nDexter Howard, would approve this new arrangement, I must give my\nconsent. I wish you weren't going out of the city, though. What will\nall your poor people do?  By the way, I'm forgetting in my\nastonishment at the news what I came for. Did you know Mr. Lambert\nwas sick, confined to his room?\"\n\n\"I'm very sorry to hear it.\"\n\n\"That isn't the worst of it. He charges you with being the cause.\"\n\n\"Charges me? What have I done? I have not even seen him for weeks,\nand supposed him out of the city.\"\n\n\"He has been in bed. He is hollow-eyed and nervous to a degree\u2014\nthat is not particularly agreeable to his household, I imagine.\nI can't make out whether the man is out of his mind, or what is the\nmatter with him. When he had berated you as much as I thought\nprudent, I apologized in your name; was sure you had no intention,\nand so forth; but he only grumbled the worse. He was sure you did\nmean it; and if you saw him you would do it again. I couldn't make\nout what you had done, except that he said you had hurt\nhis feelings.\"\n\n\"Oh, I know now!\" exclaimed Marion, with a breath of relief. \"I'm so\nglad, so very glad!\"\n\n\"Glad? He said you would be, but I indignantly denied it.\"\n\n\"May I go and see him, Doctor? Please let me.\"\n\n\"I don't believe he would admit you.\"\n\n\"Yes, he would. I must go, dear Doctor. So you may as well say yes.\"\n\nThe physician looked her keenly in the face, as though considering,\nwhen she interrupted him by a burst of feeling, eyes moist, lips\ntremulous, as she exclaimed,\u2014\n\n\"I'm so glad! It's just what I've been praying for.\"\n\n\"Hem! Well, I hope you'll continue to be glad when you see him.\"\n\n\"Oh, Doctor, you've lived in New York a long time. Do you know\nanything about his early history?\"\n\nA shake of the head was the only answer at first, then, after a\npause, \"He is a native of this city, I think; and, by the way, one of\nhis most fidgety crotchets now is about making a will. Shall he make\na will? If he does, who shall he leave his money to? Is there a boy\nby the name of Carter? Neddy Carter?\"\n\n\"Yes, his feet were crushed and had to be amputated. Mr. Lambert has\nbeen a generous friend to him, but the boy knows him only by the name\nof Regy.\"\n\n\"Whew! you don't say that the eccentric individual known as Regy is\nMr. Lambert in disguise. Why, the manner in which the man abused him\nthis very morning was a caution.\"\n\n\"I feel quite sure they are the same,\" replied Marion, laughing.\n\nTho doctor lay back his head in perfect amazement. At last he said,\n\"Lambert and old Regy the same. It's the richest joke of the season.\nWhat can be his motive? Did you ever hear of an adventure in Richmond\nin which he figures prominently?\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"He was passing a few days there, when one morning early he signalled\nto an omnibus to stop. Two or three vehicles were in the way, so that\nwhen the driver was able to draw up toward the curbstone Regy stood\nback twenty feet or so. He came on growling and stood outside,\nberating the driver for not attending more promptly to his signal.\n\n\"I'll have you dismissed, you rascal,' he shouted, his arm upraised,\nwhen he happened to notice the driver's face. It was drawn with pain.\nRegy jumped up on the box without another word, learned that the\ndriver's wife lay dying at home, dismissed him at once, and drove the\nomnibus himself all day. Then he found the house where the driver\nlived. The wife was dead and the children mourning over her cold\nbody. Regy went to the office, got the driver off for a week,\npaid the funeral expenses, and then secured a place for the man on a\nfarm, his oldest daughter keeping house.\n\n\"Those were exactly the facts, as I was told them by a gentleman\nfrom Richmond.\"\n\n\"It was just like him,\" said Marion, with a merry laugh. \"I wonder\nwhat his motive is for disguising his real nature. Now, Doctor, warm\nas it is, I must go to see him.\"\n\nIt was, however, with a quickened beat of the pulse that, after her\nring at the door-bell, she awaited admittance to the spacious,\nold fashioned house.\n\nThe servant was a man who had been in Mr. Lambert's employ for many\nyears. He recognized Miss Howard, but was doubtful whether his master\nwould see any one.\n\n\"Tell him I have just heard of his sickness and am very anxious\nto see him. Stay, wait a minute!\" she cried, with a sudden resolve,\n\"say that I want to tell him a piece of news personal to myself.\"\n\nEven when she sat in the parlor she heard the loud growling of the\nmaster as the servant announced a guest.\n\nIt was several minutes before the man came back, with a troubled\ncountenance, to say that Mr. Lambert would see her. \"I told him he'd\nbetter not,\" he explained, \"and that set him that he would.\nHe's very, very bad to-day, miss; perhaps you'd better say nothing\nto cross him. I'll be close at hand if you want me.\"\n\nFor one instant her courage failed, then with an earnest lifting up\nof her heart to God for help she ascended the stairs and passed into\nthe room.\n\nMr. Lambert had often surprised her with his eccentricities,\nbut never so much as now. He was lying dressed in a suit of\nwhite duck, on a luxurious lounge, his face almost as colorless\nas his dress, and altogether so changed that she felt a disposition\nto scream. He held out his hand, saying in a most polished manner,\n\"You must excuse me, my friend, for not rising. I am quite reduced\nby illness.\"\n\nTrying not to show her surprise, Marion cordially seized his hand and\ndrew a chair close to his side.\n\n\"I'm so sorry I didn't know it before; I'm a very good nurse, and you\nmust let me try my skill on you.\"\n\nHis chin began to twitch with his efforts at self-control, so she\nadded at once, hoping to change the current of his thoughts,\n\"We've been such good friends that I know you will be glad to hear\nsome news about me from myself. I'm going to change my name soon.\"\nHer cheeks, dyed with blushes, explained her meaning.\n\n\"Is it to that bow-legged donkey you've pledged yourself,\"\nhe shouted, starting from his pillow. \"If it is, I protest!\"\n\n\"No, indeed, it is not he,\" she laughed, understanding to whom\nhe referred, as he had warned her against him. \"My friend is a\nclergyman, a real, working Christian. I must tell you how I first met\nhim.\"\n\nShe related the incident of selling him the gloves, at which he\nlaughed heartily, and when she went on to tell what Mr. Angus wished\nto do for his people, he caught her hand and gave it a hearty shake,\nsaying, \"He's the kind. I'll consent to that.\"\n\n\"You must treat me as you would a daughter,\" she said, putting her\nhand on his forehead, \"and tell me when you're tired of hearing me\ntalk. Don't you like to hear reading?\"\n\n\"Sing,\" he said, \"sing something lively.\"\n\nShe sang several secular songs, and then one beginning,\n\n\"Jesus, Thou art all compassion,\"\n\nwhich brought the tears to his eyes.\n\n\"Another,\" he said, briefly, when her voice ceased.\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Lambert, I'll sing a favorite hymn, which I am sure you\nwill like.\n\n\"'Lord, lead the way the Saviour went\nBy lane and cell obscure,\nAnd let love's treasures still be spent,\nLike His, upon the poor.\nLike Him through scenes of deep distress,\nWho bore the world's sad weight,\nWe, in their crowded loneliness,\nWould seek the desolate.\n\n\"'For Thou hast placed us side by side\nIn this wide world of ill,\nAnd that Thy followers may be tried,\nThe poor are with us still.\nMean are all offerings we can make,\nBut Thou hast taught us, Lord,\nIf given for the Saviour's sake,\nThey lose not their reward.'\"\n\nWhen she sang the last lines he suddenly covered his face, but while\nshe was hesitating how to begin a conversation on another subject,\nhe exclaimed, irritably,\u2014\n\n\"It's no use trying to make one's self believe what he knows can't\nbe true.\"\n\n\"I am sure of that, dear friend.\"\n\n\"You, sure? Then how am I to blame for not believing?\"\n\n\"Suppose I was stricken down with want. I was dying of hunger.\nJust before me there is abundant supply of food, but I can't raise\nmyself to get it; my weakness has rendered me powerless. You come in,\nand seeing my condition, point to the food.  I can't see it, or I\ncan't reach it.  'Try,' you say. I try, but fall back.  'Ask me,\nand I'll give it to you.' You kindly urge this upon me, but I refuse.\n'No, I don't believe it's for me. That food is for somebody else';\nand so I lie there and die for want of the food, stubbornly resisting\nevery motive you urge\u2014that it is free to all, the only condition\nbeing that I ask for it.\n\n\"That is a very weak illustration of what we, as sinners before God,\ndo continually. Christ has provided an abundant feast; we are\nstarving for want of that very food. He graciously invites us,\n'Come without money and without price,' but we persist in saying,\n'I know it can't be true, That food looks inviting, but it is not\nfor me.' Now comes in the gracious Spirit, with His soft, pleading\nvoice. He repeats Christ's words, 'I came not to call the righteous,\nbut sinners.' 'To Him give all the prophets witness, that through\nHis name whosoever believeth on Him shall receive remission of sins,'\n\u2014shall be welcomed to the feast; and by it be restored to life.\"\n\nOne hand covered Mr. Lambert's face, and through the fingers Marion\nsaw the tears trickling down.\n\n\"I'm tired, perhaps you've stayed long enough,\" he said softly.\n\nShe rose at once, gazed in his face, longing to comfort him.\n\n\"Stop a minute. Pray for a poor old sinner, who has never before had\na daughter to comfort him.\"\n\nHer breath almost stopped. \"Can I pray before him?\" But before\nhe noticed her hesitation she was on her knees at his side. Like a\nlittle child, running to his father whose arms were outstretched\nto fold her in his embrace, so she ran to her Heavenly Father, and\ntold Him all her desires for this dear friend. She asked the Saviour\nto reveal Himself to the poor, desolate heart, wearied with carrying\nits burden alone. She pleaded with the gracious, waiting Spirit\nto help him open his heart to this dearest and truest of friends;\nthat the Holy Spirit would take of the things of Christ, and show\nthem unto him; that, like the man dying of hunger, he might ask\nfor the food from the abundant supply before him, and be filled.\n\nPoor Mr. Lambert! He wholly lost control, and, before she rose from\nprayer, sobbed without restraint. As she took his hand to wish him\ngood by, he looked up into her face with such a pitiful expression\nthat it almost overcame her.\n\n\"Oh,\" she exclaimed, \"do trust Him!  He is waiting for you to say,\n'Lord, I believe!'\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nNEDDY CARTER'S MISSION.\n\nWHEN Neddy Carter was carried from the hospital, he was at once\nadmitted to one of the mission schools; but he begged so hard that\nhe might still make his home with his mother that he was permitted\nto do so. He said nothing of his motives in preferring a bed on a\npile of straw to a comfortable cot in the mission house, but he had\na strong motive, which soon began to appear.\n\nUnassisted and even unknown to his best friends, he gathered a few\nlittle ones in his mother's garret, and then repeated to them the\ninstructions he had gained. Perhaps his pleasant blue eyes, gazing so\nfrankly into theirs, had made him a favorite before; or it might be\nthat the sight of him, wheeling about in his chair, enduring so\nbravely the great trial that had come upon him gave him influence\nover his companions. At any rate, he had influence and he used it\nto win them to better paths.\n\nMiss Howard learned something of this, and was so rejoiced at it that\nshe resolved to visit him in his home. She had never been there since\nthe day of Neddy's accident, when, with Hepsey's help, she had had\nhim conveyed in the ambulance to the hospital.\n\nThis visit occurred on the Sunday afternoon following her call on\nMr. Lambert, described in the last chapter. It so delighted her that\nshe longed for Mr. Lambert to know how the boy he had befriended\nwas using his influence for Christ.\n\nOn Thursday of the following week she called upon the sick man, and\nfound he was out for a drive. Sitting in his room, she wrote him\na hurried note, asking him to accompany her to see a mutual friend\non Sunday afternoon, enclosing in the note a piece of poetry she had\nselected for him. She left the whole with the servant, requesting\nan answer to be sent to her house.\n\nLet us look upon Mr. Lambert as he enters his chamber, leaning upon\nthe arm of his valet. The note has been placed in plain view from his\nlounging chair, and he notices it as soon as he has taken his seat.\n\n\"Who sent that?\" he asks.\n\nThe tone is much softer than when Marion called last. Perhaps his\nsickness has weakened him.\n\n\"Miss Howard called, sir, and finding you out, wrote her errand.\"\n\n\"Glad I was away.\" Even while uttering the words he felt that\nthey were untrue.\n\nHe took the note in his hands,\u2014thin, bony hands, showing his\nsickness. \"Get me some gruel,\" he said, \"I'm tired, and shall try\nto sleep.\"\n\n\"Shall I say you cannot see any one?\"\n\n\"How many times must I repeat that I see no one but the doctor?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"WHO SENT THAT?\" HE ASKS.  Page 366]\n\n\"There is an answer required to the note.\"\n\nAs soon as he was alone he tore open the envelope, took out the\nhalf-sheet on which Marion had copied a beautiful extract from\nSchiller, laid it without reading on his knee, and then, slowly\nadjusting his glasses on his forehead, began to read.\n\n\"After all,\" he said to himself, \"I needn't have dreaded it so much.\nI was unnecessarily alarmed. I thought she meant to bring another\nsledgehammer to bear on my conscience. Yes, I'll go and see our\nmutual friend. I wonder who it is.\"\n\nHe took up the other paper and read,\u2014\n\nDear Friend,\u2014\n\nI came across these \"words of strength\" from our\nfavorite Schiller's poems, and thought of you while reading them.\nThat they may prove real words of strength to you is the earnest\nprayer of an attached friend.\n\nMARION HOWARD.\n\n\"There are three lessons I would write,\nThree words as with a burning pen,\nIn tracings of eternal light,\nUpon the hearts of men.\n\n\"Have hope. Though clouds environ now,\nAnd gladness hides her face in scorn,\nPut thou the shadow from thy brow,\nNo night but hath its morn.\n\n\"Have faith. Where'er thy bark is driven\u2014\nThe calm's disport, the tempest's mirth\u2014\nKnow this: God rules the hosts of heaven,\nThe inhabitants of earth.\n\n\"Have love. Not love alone for one,\nBut man as man thy brother call,\nAnd scatter, like the circling sun,\nThy charities on all.\n\n\"Thus 'grave these lessons on thy soul,\nHope, Faith, and Love; and thou shalt find\nStrength when life's surges rudest roll,\nLight when thou else were blind.\"\n\nNotwithstanding the twisted and gnarled branches of this old oak,\nthere was a time, years back, when it was a straight and vigorous\nyoung sapling. It was beautiful to behold, and gave promise\nof becoming a lofty, stalwart tree, under which many might find\nrefreshing shelter. On this thrifty sapling grew an ugly wart,\ncalled by some horticulturists jealousy. At first it might have been\nremoved without injury to the tree, but it was not. It grew and grew,\ndiffusing it: poison through all the cellular tissues, until it\nbecame deformed, disfigured, and unsightly.\n\nStrange, but true, this process of degeneration had been going on\nin the character of Mr. Lambert, until, at the time we first knew\nhim, there was only one trait left of his original nature. This was\na peculiar, unquenchable tenderness of feeling toward the poor and\ndistressed. Suspicious as he had become of all around him,\never toward the very ones he was trying to save from their own\nthriftlessness or crime, this one trail urged him on to give relief;\nand in this way kept alive one of the healthiest avenues to real\ngoodness, even though his charities were often accompanied by\na torrent of reproach.\n\nIt was this trait, so congenial to Marion Howard, which drew her\nto him and led her to suppose he was actuated by love to his\nDivine Master. In this she was mistaken. In his inmost soul\nMr. Lambert accused God of having dealt hardly with him, more hardly\nthan he deserved. He had been wounded in the house of his friends.\nWhen his heart had been most vulnerable, there it had been pierced.\nHe had never forgiven nor forgotten the blow. Sometimes, when the\nrecollection of all he had been made to suffer came upon him,\nhe hated himself that he did not revenge himself on all mankind.\n\"I owe no man anything,\" was one of his favorite mottoes; but after\nhe became acquainted with Marion Howard he did not take much comfort\nfrom it. How closely after their first meeting he had watched her!\nHow he longed to find her halting! But no, her motions were too\ntransparent. She had genuine love to God as her Father, to Christ\nas her Saviour, and it was from this love her kindness to all around\nher sprang. This he had been forced to acknowledge when analyzing\nher character. It unsettled him and made him more irritable.\nSometimes, when he found himself softened under her influence,\nhe would recall all the injuries heaped on him,\u2014injuries that\nhad blasted his happiness forever.\n\nIn his early days he had been a ripe scholar, a graduate from one\nof our best colleges. He had read on many subjects, and among others\non the subject of Christianity. He had read in the Old and New\nTestaments, but his heart remained cold in the midst of sacred fire.\n\nAt times in his life he had taken pleasure in railing and ranting\nagainst everything sacred. In connection with the holiest Bible\nteachings he had used the words \"bigotry\" and \"humbuggery\" and\n\"cant,\" till he almost convinced himself that what he said was true.\nAlmost, but not quite. There was still a spark of truth left in him,\nif only it could be ignited. He had been thinking of these questions\nwhen he called on Marion and asked whether she believed in churches,\ndogmas, etc. Her words, the earnestness, the assurance she expressed\nthat the Gospel of Christ was indeed good news to men, that in order\nto live a good life we must believe on Him and follow His example,\ncame home to his heart. He could not shake off the fear that he had\nbeen mistaken. He lost his sleep, and at last became so nervous and\nunsettled, so irritable and unmanageable, that his valet insisted\nhe should summon a physician.\n\nThis was his state when Marion came to his bedside. After she left\nhe called for pen and ink, and wrote out, as well as he could recall\nit, every word of her prayer. This he put in his pocketbook and read\nover many times in a day, never without tears. The gracious\nSpirit of God was near, watching, waiting to be gracious.\n\nHow many times in the course of the few days following he put\nMarion's character to the severest test! He applied the touchstones\nof love, charity, and good-will, and found she answered to them all.\nYes, her life was a good one, even judged from his standpoint.\nShe did not act from a desire for the praise of men, but from\na genuine love to Christ, and a desire, in her humble manner, to do\ngood to those around her. Her note found his heart more tender than\nit had been for years, more amenable to good influences. He was not\nlikely to refuse any request she might make, even to the half of his\nkingdom. He sent her word that he would be ready to accompany her\nat the time appointed.\n\nOn Sunday morning the weather was so extremely sultry that Marion\ndoubted the expediency of taking an invalid to a hot, unventilated\nattic where the air must necessarily be vitiated. Indeed, she was\nherself oppressed with such debility and general lassitude\nas disinclined her for any exertion. But Sunday was one of her\nbusiest days. She had a Bible class in the morning with her own\nservants and those living with Mrs Mitchell, church at eleven, and\nher mission school in the afternoon, to which she usually devoted\ntwo hours. Then church in the evening. Mr and Mrs. Mitchell being\nin the country, she felt that the Bible class was more than ever\nimportant to their servants.\n\nIt had been her intention to call for Mr. Lambert in her carriage\non her way home after the mission school, but, considering the\nintense heat had just resolved to postpone her visit to Neddy Carter\ntill another Sunday, when she heard the welcome sound of distant\nthunder.\n\nBefore it was time to start for church, the heavy shower had cleared\nthe air and revived her drooping energies.\n\nNeddy Carter's home was only a few blocks from the Five Points\nmission. Miss Howard's carriage was no novel sight in that vicinity,\nbut, notwithstanding, a group of boys and girls gathered around,\ngazing with open mouths as the old gentleman alighted\u2014and followed\nthe lady slowly up the steps.\n\nNothing could have happened more favorably for her project. The room\nwas full, as not only the little ones, but their fathers and mothers,\ndrawn to the room by the singing, had crowded in, filling up even\nthe open door. From an adjoining tenement Miss Howard procured\na chair for Mr. Lambert, which she placed in the passage, and\nan unpainted stool for herself. An opening hymn had been sung,\nand then the children united in repeating with the young teacher\nthe Lord's Prayer.\n\nPeeping through a space formed by a man's uplifted arm, Mr. Lambert\ncould see the crippled boy seated in his wheeled chair, in front of\ngroup of wondering children. His back was toward the door, but the\nspectator could easily imagine the expression of fervor there would\nbe in his soft brown eyes, the sweet serenity of the brow as he\ntalked to them on the subjects he held most dear.\n\n\"You said I might tell about Jesus being born in a stable to-day,\"\nbegan one little boy, raising his hand.\n\n\"You may tell it now,\" Neddy said, in a cheerful voice.\n\nQuestions and answers followed, showing that many present had been\ntold of the love of Jesus Christ, even for the most sinful; and then\nthe little missionary, wholly unconscious that others beside the\ninmates of the neighboring tenement houses were present, with a\nlittle wave of the hand to command silence, began,\u2014\n\n\"I'm going to tell you the story our teacher told us at the mission\nschool to-day, and then we will sing our favorite hymn.\n\n\"A great many years ago there was a rich man. He had two sons.\nOne was good and one was bad. I guess it was the youngest that\nwas bad. He didn't like to work. The other helped his father on the\nbig farm. Teacher said he thought the good one went around and told\nthe servants what to do, and was not afraid to work himself. They had\ncows and calves and sheep, and all kinds of animals, I guess.\n\n\"By and by the lazy one said he was tired of staying at home.\nHe wanted to travel, and he asked his father to give him his part of\nthe money and let him go. His father said yes. So the father and\nthe good son went on together for a great many years. They were\npretty happy, but not very. Can you guess why?\"\n\n\"Maybe the father was a sorrering for the boy who had quit his home,\"\nmurmured a mother in the farthest corner of the room.\n\n\"That's a good guess.  Yes, that was the reason he wasn't happy.\nHe loved his boy and he didn't like to have him away.\"\n\n\"Why didn't he get a letter writ?\" questioned a man who was holding\na child on each knee.\n\n\"I don't know,\" answered Neddy. \"I'm sorry I didn't ask teacher that.\nP'r'aps he didn't know where to send the letter. But now I'm going\nto tell you about the bad son. He had a whole bagful of money, and he\nthought it would last him forever. So he kept buying things and\nspending his money till one day he put his hand in his bag and it was\nall gone, every bit. He was hungry, but he had not a penny to buy\nfood. He didn't dare to kneel down, as we do, and say, 'Our Father,\ngive us this day our daily bread,' because he had been awfully\nwicked, getting drunk and lying and swearing, and doing everything\nbad. You can't guess, any of you, what he did at last. Why, he was\nthat hungry he had to hire out to a farmer who kept pigs, and he\nwatched his chance when nobody was looking, to steal some of the\npigs' food. Before this he used to wear gay clothes, now he was all\nin rags. One day he sat down on a stump of a tree. He was awful\nhomesick. He was tired of being so bad. He thought about his old\nhome, and how kind his father used to be, and what good things he had\nto eat, He remembered how the men working on the farm had enough\nto eat. All at once he began to cry, 'I wish I was home. I'm awfully\nlonely way off here, and nobody speaks a kind word to me.\nNobody gives me even the pigs' food. I'm ragged, too, and filthy.\nOh, what a fool I was to leave my dear old home!'\"\n\n\"He cried and sobbed, but nobody pitied him.\"\n\n\"Say, Neddy, did he die among the pigs?\" asked a big girl, putting a\nfinger in her eye to keep the tears back.\n\n\"I'm coming to the good part now. After he'd been crying a good\nwhile, and feeling real sorry he had been so wicked, he thought\nhe heard a voice asking,\u2014\n\n\"'Why don't you go home?'\"\n\n\"'Oh, father wouldn't have me back!'\"\n\n\"'Yes, he would. He loves you still.'\"\n\n\"'Loves me! Can it be true? Then I'll go right off.' So he got up off\nthe stump and started. Teacher didn't say how far it was, but at last\nhe came to a place where he could see his home.  His heart beat\ndreadfully. 'Will he take me in? Will he?' Now I'm going to tell you\nthe very words he told himself he would say to his father.\nTeacher made us all learn them, 'cause she said every one of us could\nsay them to God, our Heavenly Father.\n\n\"'And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great\nway off, the father saw him, and had compassion unto him, and ran,\nand fell on his neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him,\nFather, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am\nno more worthy to be called thy son.\n\n\"'But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and\nput it on him, and put ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet.\nAnd bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be\nmerry: for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and\nis found.'\"\n\n\"Is that 'ere a true story? You don't say he took him right back\nagain?  Whew! I guess he was glad he went home.\"\n\n\"There's only one thing more,\" added Neddy, when the astonishment had\nsomewhat subsided. \"Teacher said that the good father in the story\nmeans God. Everybody who wanders away from being good, is like the\nbad son. Just as quick as we are sorry and ask Him to forgive us,\nHe will. She said that we must remember that He is ready just as\nquick as we say we're sorry.\n\n\"Now we'll sing, and then the school is done. You must all begin\nwith me,\u2014\n\n\"I am so glad that our Father in heaven\nTells of His love in the book He has given,\nWonderful things in the Bible I see,\nThis is the dearest, that Jesus loves me.\n\n\"Though I forget Him and wander away,\nStill He doth love me wherever I stray\nBack to His dear loving arms would I flee,\nWhen I remember that Jesus loves me.\n\n\"Oh, if there's only one song I can sing,\nWhen in His beauty I see the great King,\nThis shall my song in eternity be,\nOh, what a wonder that Jesus loves me.\"\n\nDuring the whole exercises, Marion had been aware that her companion\nwas deeply affected. She had refrained from looking at him, but now,\nas the school was breaking up, she asked,\u2014\n\n\"Shall we stop and speak to him?\"\n\n\"No, no! I must get home. I'm too ill to be here.\"\n\nShe had ordered the carriage to be back in an hour, and was glad\nto see that it was at the door. They were seated in it and driving\noff before the crowd came tumbling down the stairs.\n\nMr. Lambert sank back in his seat, looking so pale that his companion\nwas really alarmed. She said nothing, however, but fanned him\ncontinually till they reached his own door. She herself alighted and\nrang the bell for the valet to assist his master, who muttered\nto himself,\u2014\n\n\"Whatever he's been up to, he looks like death.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nMANY BLESSINGS.\n\nTHERE could scarcely be a greater contrast in two characters\namong Miss Howard's associates than Mr. Lambert and Esther Sims,\nor Esther Cole, as she asked Hepsey to call her for the present.\nPoor to the extent that, when she left the home in the stable loft,\nshe had not a penny in the world and not a garment fit to wear to her\nnew service, unlearned and ignorant in worldly wisdom, she yet seemed\nto absorb into her heart as governing motives to her life such sweet\nand restful views of God as her Father and Jesus as her Saviour\nas caused her young mistress to exclaim, \"Thou and hast hid these\nthings from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.\"\n\nWith a childlike frankness so peculiar to her, she confided to Miss\nHoward her increasing trust that God would answer her prayers for her\nhusband's conversion.\n\n\"In that case you would return to him, I suppose.\" Marion wished\nto test her feelings as a wife.\n\nA pretty pink flush flew all over Esther's face as she lifted\nher eyes wistfully to the lady's.\n\n\"God will take care of me,\" she said. \"I am sure He will. It is\nof him I'm thinking. Now that he is away from bad people and\ncan't get rum, it is such a nice time for him to become good. When he\ncomes out of prison, if God wants me to go back to him, He will let\nme know it. Sometimes,\" she added, in a timid voice, \"I think He\nwill, because I promised for better, for worse, you know.\"\n\n\"Would you live with him if he were to beat you and abuse you as he\ndid before?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am, if I were sure God meant it so. I can never be\nas miserable again as I was before.\"\n\n\"Why can't you?\"\n\n\"Because I have a friend now who would be close by me always.\"\n\n\"You mean Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am. Even if he did get\u2014get out of his mind with drink, and\ntreat me unkindly, I would tell Jesus, and He would help me\nto forgive. If I never answered back and always tried to have a smile\nand the best home I could make for him, perhaps he might try\nto be better. Oh, I should be too happy!\"\n\nShe clasped her hands to her breast, and looked so like an innocent\nchild in her perfect trust that Marion shed tears of delight.\n\nDuring the first week in September, Marion went to the Home for\nthe Sick, to see Mary Falkner, who, with the aid of a cane, was able\nto walk the length of the ward.\n\n\"Isn't it wonderful?\" she exclaimed. \"The doctors say, with the\nexception of a limp in my gait, I shall be as well able to walk\nas any one. They are all so kind to me. Who knows but I shall be able\nto do some church work in your parish?\"\n\n\"If you are able we will give you enough to do,\" answered Marion,\nblushing.\n\nOn her way out the superintendent met her and asked her to step\nto the parlor for a moment. He took from his pocket a letter recently\nreceived, and handed it to her with an arch smile. Though he did not\nknow, he suspected the truth of a rumor he had heard concerning her.\n\nThe letter read as follows:\u2014\n\nDear Sir,\u2014\n\nIn memory of God's goodness to my deceased sister and\nto myself, while we were within the walls of the Home for the Sick,\nand in gratitude for the faithful care to our bodies and our souls,\nby pastor, chaplain, and nurses, I send you the enclosed check,\nwhich I think you once told me was the sum necessary to found\na permanent bed in your blessed institution. That your labors may be\nas useful in the future as they have been in the past is the sincere\nprayer of a fellow-laborer in Christ's vineyard.\n\nHAROLD ANGUS.\n\n\"The check was for five thousand dollars,\" added the gentleman.\n\"It was an unexpected thank-offering, and we are very grateful\nfor it.\"\n\nMarion expressed her pleasure, adding that Mr. Angus had told her\nhow much he owed to the faithful teachings he received while\nin the Home.\n\nThis seemed to our young friend to be a day to mark with a\nwhite stone, it was so full of blessings. When she reached home\nshe found a letter from Mr. Lambert which overwhelmed her and\nsent her to her knees to thank God for answering her humble prayers.\n\nIt was characteristic of himself in its brevity.\n\n\"Kind and faithful Friend,\u2014\n\n\"The prodigal has returned. The Father\nmet and embraced him. He has put off his tattered garments. He has\na new robe on him. His voice rings with a new song. In the better\nwords of another, this is the language of his heart,\u2014\n\n\"'I cannot love thee as I would,\nYet pardon me, O Highest Good!\nMy life and all I call mine own\nI lay before Thy mercy throne.\nAnd if a thousand lives were mine,\nO sweetest Lord, they should be Thine!\nAnd scanty would the offering be,\nSo richly Thou hast loved me.'\"\n\nA few days later Marion went to Grantbury in answer to a summons\nfrom her uncle. The outside walls of the church were finished,\nwith the exception of the spire. The men were at work on the dizzy\nheight, and expected to finish it by the middle of September.\n\nThe frame to the new house was raised and nearly boarded in.\nMrs. Asbury said people were beginning to take quite an interest\nin it. One lady asked her point-blank if the clergyman intended\nto bring home a wife from England, to which she returned a decided\n\"No.\"\n\nDuring her stay Marion made a hasty call at the thread and needle\nstore to see the Widow Falkner. Mary had kept her mother informed\nof her condition, and also of the great kindness all the patients\nreceived, but she was delighted to see Miss Howard and learn\nparticulars about her daughter.\n\nThen Marion drove half a mile in another direction for a call\non Farmer Rand's wife, who was still an invalid.\n\nSeldom had her appearance created such an excitement. It was evident\nsomething pleasant had happened.\n\n\"Talk of an angel, etc.,\" said the farmer, with a grand flourish\nof his hand. \"Sit down, miss. You're as welcome as roses in June.\nHow are ye?\"\n\n\"We've been thinking a sight about ye,\" added the gudewife. \"We've\nhad a letter. Maybe ye know it.\"\n\n\"S-sh-sh, wife,\" making a sound like what he would make to quiet\nhis oxen; \"wait a bit, I\u2019ve something to say. Now, miss, did ye\never hear about our church meetin'?\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed, I heard all the items in detail.\"\n\n\"Wall, then, 't won't be breaking no Scripter rule if I do tell that\nI was moved to draw a few hundreds out of the bank and gin 'em to the\nLord. 'T isn't that I'm a speakin' of. That 'ere's only the text\nto my sarmon, you see. The good book says, The Lord loveth a cheerful\ngiver,' and I will say for myself and my good woman that the Lord\nHe helped us to give that 'ere money with as good a will as though\nwe were spendin' on 't to build a new bedroom out on our south side,\nas we've been a plannin' to do for a score o' years. Speak for\nyourself, Lucy. Am I stating your opinions correct?\"\n\n\"Yes, I was very glad you did it.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" said the farmer, laughing as he flourished his hands\nagain, \"the first part o' my sermon is 'stablished, and I'll go on.\nWife, give me that 'ere Bible, will ye? Now I stan' to it that God\nholds to His promises even when men aren't looking for Him to do it.\nHere it is, He that watereth shall be watered himself'; and here's\nanother, The liberal soul shall be made fat.' Now look here.\nOut there on the very edge of my farm there's a piece o' ground o'\nno airthly value to me. There's nothin' but sorrel'll grow on 't.\nI'd ha' given it to any friend for the askin'.  Wall, one day in come\nthat prince of a man, 'Squire Asbury. I knew by the look o' his eye\nhe meant business.  'Mr. Rand,' says he, 'I ain't no hand\nto circumvent' round matters; I go straight to the p'int.'\"\n\n\"'Go ahead,' says I. 'I ain't no hand for circumventing, neither.'\"\n\n\"'Mr. Rand,' says he, 'what will you take for that 'ere corner lot o'\nyourn that runs out towards the railroad track?'\"\n\n\"''Squire Asbury,' says I, 'if you're in want o' that 'ere lot you're\nas welcome to it as the flowers in May. 'T ain't no vally to me\nat all.'\"\n\n\"'No, no,' says he, laughin'. 'I'm a bargaining for the railroad,\nand they want to put up a freight depot there. The lot almost touches\nthe rails. Set your price.'\"\n\n\"'Oho!' says I, 'if that's the talk I calkerlate they're able to pay\na little suthing. I'll agree to any price you'll name. Don't you say\nso, wife?'\"\n\n\"'Yes, I will,' Lucy answered up, loud and prompt.\"\n\n\"'Squire Asbury kind o' laughed and repeated it over again. 'You both\nagree,' says he, 'to stick to the price I name, be it more or less?'\"\n\n\"'Yes, we do.'\"\n\n\"'Well, then, I want the lot just as it lies, sand and all, coming\ndown to a p'int near the railroad, and a runnin' back one hundred\nfeet to the rail fence put across where the land lies even, and I'll\ngive you five hundred dollars for it.'\"\n\n\"'Good land, 'Squire' says I, ''t ain't wuth it.'\"\n\n\"'It's wuth every dollar of five hundred to the road,' says he;\n'if they have to go a mile farther either way, they'll have to give\nsix or eight. I'll have the deed drawn up ready for you and your wife\nto sign.'\"\n\n\"'Squire Asbury,' says I as soon as I could catch my breath,\n'I believe the Lord sent you here. When I give that five hundred\nto the Lord I never thought o' getting it back again, but you see\nhere 't is, dollar for dollar, and more, too, for the pleasure o'\ngiving my mite towards the Lord's new meeting-house was wuth the\nwhole sum. Sure as you live, Lucy and I, we give thanks to God\nfor lettin' of us have the privilege.'\"\n\n\"'Yes, yes, I know that,' says he, and so he does.  If ever a man\nwas blessed in his basket and store it's that same 'Squire Asbury.\nHis hand, as the Scripter says, 'is open to the wants o' the poor.'\"\nHe ended with one grand flourish.\n\nMarion laughed heartily as she said, \"I wish you'd preach that sermon\nto some of our rich men on Fifth Avenue who don't know the pleasure\nof giving. It is as practical a sermon as I ever heard.\"\n\n\"Now, wife, speak up, if you've anything to say.\"\n\n\"Husband and I have had a letter,\" Mrs. Rand said, opening the large\nfamily Bible and taking an envelope from between the leaves. \"It has\nmade us real cheery coming so far, and it has good news in it, too.\nThe pastor is real friendly to think of us.\"\n\n\"The pastor,\" exclaimed Marion, in surprise. \"Have you had a letter\nfrom Mr. Angus?\"\n\nThe farmer evidently understood that he had had his turn, and that\nhis wife now had the floor.\n\nHe did not speak, but he nodded his head and performed other\npantomime in such a remarkable manner that Marion was made aware\nwhat news the letter contained before the wife gave it to her\nto read.\n\nYes, there it was in plain black and white. He told this aged pair\nthat he was going to be married and settle down among them for life,\nhe hoped. He quoted the words of Solomon, \"A prudent wife is from\nthe Lord,\" and he said, \"I'm sure mine is a prudent one, a priceless\ntreasure. That she is from the hands of my Father in heaven I am\nequally sure. You will agree with me when I tell you Miss Marion\nHoward, your particular friend, has agreed to cast in her lot\nwith me.\"\n\nMarion kept her eyes fastened on the letter long after she had\nfinished it. She did not like her good friends to see how much these\nmanly words had affected her. She folded the sheet carefully and\npassed it back, saying, \"I am glad he has told you.\"\n\n\"I guess we shall be able to hold on to him now,\" rejoined Mr. Rand,\ntrying to laugh. But as Marion rose to go his voice changed to the\ntenderness of a father. He raised his hand over her head and\npronounced a blessing on her and on her chosen friend; then sat down\nsuddenly, and blew his nose like a trumpet to conceal how much he\nwas affected.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nA WONDERFUL DISCOVERY.\n\nTHESE were busy days with our young friend. In company with Hepsey\nshe went to her old home and spent a week in looking over bedding and\nfurniture preparatory to having it removed to Ingleside. Her father's\nplace was let on a long lease, and she was well satisfied with the\ncare taken of it.\n\nMr. Angus had written to beg her to consent that the wedding should\ntake place immediately on his return, but she replied that the house\nwould not be finished till some time later, and that it was necessary\nfor her to complete her arrangements for her mission and her prot\u00e9g\u00e9s\namong the poor before leaving New York.\n\nSince the change in Mr. Lambert, the idea of giving the care\nof certain families to him had floated through her mind, but she\nfeared he was too impulsive or would be too easily imposed upon if he\nundertook mission work. Annie Leman had promised to do all in her\npower, and had already proved both willingness and tact in the work.\n\nOn her return from the country, Marion found a note from Mr. Lambert\nrequesting to see her on business. She suspected at once it was\nin relation to his will, about which he had already spoken to her.\nShe sent James with an answer saying she would call on him at nine\nthe next morning.\n\nLater in the day she was pleasantly surprised by a call\nfrom Mrs. Cheriton and Eugene. They had advertised for and obtained\na boarding-place in the country a few weeks before, but not being\naltogether pleased with the class of boarders they met there,\nhad suddenly returned to the city the day before.\n\nMrs. Cheriton smilingly remarked that her mother seemed as pleased\nas a child to be back in her old rooms in New York; that she had\ntaken her favorite seat near the window early in the morning, and had\nspent an hour or more watching the passers-by; that it was\nwith difficulty they could persuade her to leave the window even\nfor her meals.\n\nGeenie gained great praise for his conduct during the visit.\nHe amused himself with a book of pictures Hepsey brought him, and\ndid not once touch any article in the room without liberty from his\nmother or Marion.\n\nAt a quarter to nine the next morning Mr. Lambert sent a carriage\nfor Miss Howard, and on her reaching his house waited upon her to his\nlibrary, a room adjoining his chamber. She had never seen this room\nbefore, and went around examining the pictures hanging over the\nwell-filled bookcases.\n\nHe had evidently been writing. Papers covered his table, and his pen\nwas still wet. As he took a seat near her, the visitor was startled\nat the marks of the agitation of mind through which he had recently\npassed.  His cheeks seemed sunken and a circle round his eyes\nbetokened want of sleep.\n\n\"I fear you are not strong enough for business yet,\" she remarked,\nanxiously.\n\n\"I'm all right,\" he answered. \"I've had letters which have\ndisappointed me\u2014personal matters. By the way, I may tell you\nabout them some time. To-day I want to talk about other things.\n\n\"Miss Howard, I want to confess Christ. I want to do just the\nvery thing I once thought a humbug,\u2014to join myself to God's people.\nI want the help of a faithful pastor to keep my heart right, and I\nwant the counsel of fellow-Christians as to the best methods\nof working for the Master.\"\n\nMarion's eyes filled with happy tears. \"I'm so glad, so glad!\"\nshe murmured. \"Will you allow me to bring Dr. M\u2014, my pastor,\nto see you?\"\n\n\"No, child, I'm a poor old prodigal. I want to go among the poor and\ndo what I can there. You told me once about a mission chapel. That is\nmy place. It may be I can have courage to do something there, to help\nmen, who, like myself, have lived for years among the husks.\"\n\n\"Oh, how I wish you would go to our parish in the country! There is\na great work to do there, and you ought to be where your daughter\ncould look after you.\"\n\n\"That would be a great inducement, child. You are nearer to my heart\nthan any other. I have no ties of kin,\u2014at least I can learn of\nnone. Another time I may tell you the nature of the disappointment\nto which I referred. You will pity the poor, lonely man, I'm sure.\"\n\nHis tone was so sad that it deeply moved her, and taking his hand\nshe pressed her lips upon it.\n\n\"Don't do that, I can't bear it. I shall be unfit for the business\nif I allow my feelings to have sway. I have been jotting down\na few items in connection with the disposal of my property. I have\nmore money than I know what to do with. If that interloper had not\nstepped in, I would make you my heir, and you could scatter it round\nas you please. As it is, I have set aside a few thousands to educate\nour friend Neddy, and I want you to look after him if anything\nhappens to me.\n\n\"What is the name of that girl-wife you told me about, whose husband\nis in prison? I want to give you a thousand for her own use. If she\ngoes back to that scoundrel it must be so tied up that he can't get\nat it. Will you have the goodness to pass me that long paper,\nruled with red ink? That's the one.\"\n\nIn selecting this paper from the others, Marion had to move several\nletters lying on top. As she did so her eyes fell on an open page,\nwith the name Madrid in full view. \"Madrid! Does he have letters from\nMadrid? That was Mrs. Douglass's native place.\"\n\nHer heart almost stopped beating, as a sudden possibility flashed\nlike lightning through her mind. She glanced back at Mr. Lambert.\n\"Could he, oh, could he be the cruel, exacting man whose jealousy and\ndistrust had rendered the life of her friend so miserable? No!\nOh, no!\" And yet the thought, once entertained, would not be\nbanished. \"What if he is? How can I find out? How would he bear it?\nWhat a happy future he might have! What shall I do? What can I say?\"\n\nHer habitual frankness came to her aid. She had mechanically given\nhim the paper and sank back in her chair, while he was so occupied\nin glancing over the items that he had not noticed her wild stare\nof astonishment.\n\n\"Mr. Lambert\u2014\" She stopped; her heart seemed to rise up in her\nthroat and choke her. \"Mr. Lambert, did you ever live in Madrid?\nI saw the address on an open letter. I do not ask from mere\ncuriosity.\"\n\n\"The most blissful and the most wretched days of my life were passed\nin that city.\"\n\n\"Mr. Lambert, something has happened to me.  I\u2014I can't think\nof business to-day. Will you excuse and trust me as though I were\nyour own daughter? I want to tell you about a dear friend,\nthe grandmother of the beautiful boy you have heard me speak about\nwith such rapture. I promised to bring him to see you some day.\nThat boy is a native of Madrid.\"\n\n\"What is the mother's name?\"\n\n\"Cheriton, Mrs. Juliette Cheriton.\"\n\nHe shook his head thoughtfully.  \"I never heard the name.\" He laid\ndown the paper with a little vexed and disappointed air, adding,\n\"I haven't been in Madrid for more than eighteen years.\"\n\n\"It is Mrs. Cheriton's mother who is my special friend. She is one\nof the loveliest, most accomplished ladies I know, and such\nan earnest Christian, too.\"\n\n\"Is her name Cheriton?\"\n\n\"Oh, no! Eugene's mother is her daughter. She calls herself\nDouglass.\"\n\n\"Douglass!\" Mr. Lambert started forward, then sank back and looked\nas though he had been struck. Presently, with his hand on his heart,\nhe said in a choking voice,\u2014\n\n\"Tell me all you know. Don't spare me. This suspense is killing me.\"\n\n\"I will tell you all, though I can only suspect the truth.\nMrs. Douglass, as my friend chooses to be called, told me this\nwas not her wedded name. Just before her daughter's birth, painful\nfamily circumstances arose, which caused a separation between herself\nand her husband. She has never seen him since.\"\n\n\"Did she confide these circumstances to you?\" The voice seemed\nto come from a tomb.\n\n\"Yes, she did, and it has been her life-long regret that she\ncould not explain them to the one most interested.\"\n\n\"You are an innocent child. Mrs. Douglass, as she calls herself,\nwas my wife. She has deceived you. I saw what I saw with my own eyes.\nShe even gave up the ring I presented her on our betrothal.\"\n\n\"Mr. Lambert, you must be calm. She does not deserve such bitter\nscorn. You were deceived in one particular. You thought her an only\nchild. She had a brother, a wild, reckless man, who afterward paid\nthe penalty for his crimes. Mr Douglass forbade all mention of his\nname, and frequently alluded to his daughter as his only child.\nIt was this wicked, daring fellow who suddenly appeared to my friend,\nand almost drove her wild by demanding money or jewels from her.\nShe agreed to see him once, and give him all she could raise,\non condition he would never cross her path again. She did see him.\nHe seized her and held her forcibly while he wrested from her finger\nthe valuable ring you had given her. His cruelty nearly cost her\nher life. She was carried to her bed, fell into convulsions, during\nwhich her child was born. The resolve she had made to tell you\nthe truth at whatever cost, even her father's displeasure, it was\nimpossible for her to carry out. Before she was well enough\nto understand what had passed, her husband, deceived and betrayed\nby a servant, who with tears and groans confessed her guilt, was a\nwitness to the meeting between herself and her brother. He believed\nher lost to him and to virtue. He himself carried her in his arms\nto her couch, when, overcome by her brother's cruelty, she fainted,\nbut he never gave her an opportunity to explain the painful meeting.\nIf he had\u2014\"\n\nShe was interrupted by a terrible groan from Mr. Lambert. He threw\nhis arms up, then, with a gurgling sound in his throat, he sank back,\ninsensible.\n\nMarion flew to the door and screamed for the valet. She loosened\nthe necktie, and began vigorously to chafe the cold hands, but it was\nsome minutes before he revived.\n\n\"The doctor cautioned him to avoid all excitement,\" said the servant,\nwith a reproachful glance at the visitor. \"Ever since those foreign\nletters came he's been terribly took down.\"\n\nMarion was bending over him, with her hand on his forehead, when he\nopened his eyes.\n\n\"Don't\u2014leave\u2014me,\" he gasped. Presently he spoke again. \"Do you\nthink God will forgive me?\" The tone was so piteous she found\nit impossible to control her voice to answer.  She bowed her head.\n\n\"Will you take a little hartshorn, sir?\" asked the valet.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nWhen it had been administered, he said, \"Stay in the anteroom,\nMiss Howard may need you.\u2014Pray for me,\" he added the moment\nthey were alone.\n\n\"Yes, I will; but first I want to tell you that your wife,\nif Mrs. Douglass is indeed your wife, has loved you all these years.\nShe blames herself that she did not insist that her father should\ntell you of her brother Henreich. I do not think there has been a day\nthese last ten years that she has not prayed for your conversion.\"\n\nHis lip quivered like a grieved child, while great tears rolled down\nhis pale cheeks. In a voice scarcely more than a whisper, he said,\u2014\n\n\"Do you think it possible that she will forgive me?\"\n\n\"She has forgiven you already.\"\n\nThere was a long silence after this. Mr. Lambert's countenance showed\nthat a terrible struggle was going on in his breast. Marion could not\nlook upon it, and covered her face, her cry going up to God for help\nand comfort to this poor man. At last, recalling his request,\nshe fell on her knees, and in a low tone offered up her petitions\nin his behalf.\n\nWhen she rose to her feet, she was startled at the awful pallor which\nhad settled on his features. She put her fingers on his pulse, and\nto her terror found there was scarcely any beat.\n\n\"Go for the doctor as quickly as possible,\" she cried to the servant.\n\"No, send some one. Don't leave me! He is very low.\"\n\nFortunately the physician was near at hand and was soon at the\nbedside. In a few words Marion related the wonderful story, that she\nhad just made the discovery that Mrs. Douglass was Mr. Lambert's\nwife, which accounted for his alarming state of exhaustion.\n\nFor several hours it was doubtful whether Mr. Lambert would ever\nspeak again. The physician told Marion that his case was a very\n critical one, but at length they were able to force down a tonic,\nand soon after he sank into slumber.\n\nThe room was darkened, every sound hushed, and the faithful valet sat\nalone to watch and wait by his master's bedside.\n\nIt was night when he awoke; the physician had been in and out several\ntimes, and ordered a few spoonsful of nourishment as soon as\nhe awoke. This was given him and he tried to speak.\n\n\"Miss Howard.\"\n\n\"She is not here. She said she would be back early in the morning.\"\n\n\"I may not live till then. Take\u2014a\u2014pen\u2014and\u2014write. With my dying\nbreath I ask her to forgive me.\u2014I leave to her\u2014all\u2014that I have\n\u2014in the\u2014world,\u2014with my dying\u2014love and blessing.  She, Miss\u2014\nHoward, will\u2014know who\u2014I mean. Tell her not to let our daughter\nthink too hard of her father. Fold\u2014it and direct to Miss Howard.\"\n\nMeanwhile Marion had returned home in such a state of excitement and\nfatigue that the physician, who took her there, sent her at once\nto bed, and ordered Hepsey to give her a powerful anodyne. When she\nwoke, Mr. Lambert's servant had been to say that he wanted to see her\nas soon as she was able. Hepsey insisted that she should not go until\nshe had eaten a hearty breakfast.\n\n\"I think you ought to consider what Mr. Angus would say,\" she urged,\n\"and for his sake take a little care of your health.\"\n\n\"Hepsey, I feared last night that Mr. Lambert was dead, and, oh,\nHepsey, it was what I had been telling him that made him fall into\nthe swoon! You will not wonder that I was sick with fear when I tell\nyou about it.\"\n\n\"I shall tell Mr. Angus that you've had enough of excitement for one\nlife, and he'd better get you to the country as soon as he can.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nRECONCILIATION AND HAPPINESS.\n\nTHE carriage was already at the door, and Miss Howard drove hastily\nto Mr. Lambert's residence. She was informed that he was stronger,\nhad taken more nourishment, and was again asleep. The valet came\nfrom the chamber where the sick man had been carried and gave her\nthe sealed envelope; and with this in her hand she started\nfor Mrs. Douglass's boarding-house, scarcely daring to read\nthe words, lest she should unfit herself for the exciting scenes\nshe must expect. After a cursory glance at the page she thrust it\nback into the envelope, and endeavored to form some plan by which\nshe might best convey to her invalid friend the wonderful discovery\nshe had made.\n\nEarly as it was, Mrs. Cheriton had taken her boy for a walk.\nMrs. Douglass sat reading by the window.  She greeted Miss Howard\nwith a smile and then, noticing her flushed face, asked,\u2014\n\n\"Are you well, dear?\"\n\n\"Can you bear good news, Mrs. Douglass?\"\n\n\"Good news seldom hurts any one.\"\n\n\"Have you ever thought that your husband might be living near you?\"\n\n\"I know where he lives; I learned it by accident while in the country\nand found it impossible to remain away.\"\n\n\"And that explains your sudden return and your watching so constantly\nfrom the windows?\" Marion's tone was full of wonder.\n\n\"I never told you his name. How did you find it out?\"\n\nMarion then related all that had passed, and ended with giving the\npaper which the sick man had dictated when he thought himself dying.\n\nMrs. Douglass's countenance expressed the deepest feeling, but she\nbraced herself against giving way to her excitement.\n\n\"I have been praying earnestly that I might be prepared for this\ndiscovery, should it take place,\" she said. \"I will go with you and\nassure him of my entire forgiveness. Juliette knows nothing of her\nfather's desertion, and she need not be made acquainted with the\ndiscovery.\"\n\n\"Oh, Mrs. Douglass, I am sure he will never part with you again.\"\n\nShe shook her head, rose, and put on her bonnet and shawl.\n\nMarion saw that, while she was making a great effort to appear calm,\nher hands trembled so much that she could not tie the bonnet-strings.\nUnobserved by the lady, she wrote with pencil on a piece of paper:\u2014\n\nDear Mrs. Cheriton,\u2014\n\nI have taken your mother with me. Please remain\nat home with Geenie till I call or send for you.\n\nMARION.\n\nThis she left in plain sight on the table.\n\nOn their way little was spoken until they approached the door, when\nMarion said,\u2014\n\n\"I hope the doctor will be there. I dare not take you to\nMr. Lambert's room without his permission.\"\n\nThe servant who opened the door stared at the new-comer, and said\nto Miss Howard,\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Lambert is too ill, ma'am, to see visitors.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know. This lady is going with me to the parlor to see\nthe doctor.\"\n\nShe gave Mrs. Douglass her arm, and found from the manner the lady\nleaned against her that she could scarcely support herself.\n\nThe valet came at once. \"Mr. Lambert is awake,\" he said, \"and has\nbeen calling for you.\"\n\n\"I cannot leave this lady alone. Is the doctor here?\"\n\n\"He's just going, miss. I hear him coming downstairs.\"\n\n\"Ask him to come here.\"\n\n\"Dr. Danforth, this is my friend, Mr. Lambert's wife. Can she\nsee him?\"\n\n\"Go and tell him she is here. He is as impatient this morning as ever\nold Mr. Regy was.\"\n\nThe doctor tried to smile, but looked anxious.\n\n\"I thought you would never come,\" said the sick man in a petulant\ntone. \"I might have died without ever asking her to forgive me.\"\n\n\"Would you like to see her now?\"\n\n\"Would I?\" He gave a scream which speedily brought the valet to his\nside.\n\n\"Get me up! Bring my clothes! Where is she? Don't let her go!\nI'll be ready in a minute.\"\n\nThe valet was thunderstruck, and looked at Miss Howard helplessly.\n\n\"Mr. Lambert,\" said Marion, in an authoritative tone, \"if you don't\nlie down and be calm I'll take Mrs. Lambert away again. There, that\nis right!\" as he assented like a penitent boy.\n\n\"You must be calm, for her sake. She is an invalid, and has been\nfor years.\"\n\n\"Will you explain to her why I can't go to her?  It's my place.\nAre you sure she'll forgive me?\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Marion, addressing the valet, who stood in open-mouthed\nwonder, \"you may go to the parlor and ask the doctor to assist\nMrs. Lambert up the stairs.\"\n\nThe sick man quickly covered his face, and she heard him whispering\na prayer for help. \"For his sake and for your own, be as calm\nas possible,\" said Dr. Ross, leaving the lady at the door and\nmotioning the servant to retire.\n\nMarion only waited to see the long-deserted wife glide quickly to the\nbedside, and then she, too, left them alone. The meeting was\ntoo sacred for any eye but the omnipresent One to witness.\n\n\n\nMarion Howard was blessed with an excellent constitution, but of late\nher keen sympathy with her friends, her frequent visits to her\nmission scholars, in connection with the arrangements she was making\nto leave, in addition to her own numerous cares, the purchase of her\ntrousseau, etc., had taxed her strength to an unusual degree.\nNow that the wife was restored to her husband, Dr. Danforth insisted\nthat she should go home and take some rest.\n\n\"I will, as soon as I have brought Mrs. Cheriton and her boy.\"\nShe had scarcely finished her sentence before a sudden attack\nof dizziness made her clutch at a chair for support.\n\n\"You must return, and at once,\" he said. \"I will do all that is\nnecessary. I prophesy that this discovery will be the most effectual\nremedy for Mr. Lambert.\"\n\nMarion found it most prudent to yield, and hastily leaving word\nthat Mrs. Cheriton was to be sent for, she left the doctor to make\nall needed explanation for her sudden departure. The next morning,\nin consequence of a telegram from Dr. Ross, Mrs. Asbury made her\nappearance, and coolly remarked that she had come to stay till her\nniece was able to return with her.\n\n\n\nOn a bright October morning let us take a peep at Mr. Lambert and\nhis now united family. They have left the grand house in the city\nto spend the autumn months on his farm in the country. To see our\nfriend now we should not imagine him to have been so recently one of\nDr. Danforth's sickest patients.  His heart and his conscience\nat rest, his countenance grows daily more serene, while he declares\nhe feels as young and fresh as he ever did. His wife, Mrs. Douglass\nno more, moves quietly about, keeping within sight of the husband\nfrom whom she has been so long separated. She is making a study\nof his character eccentricities and all, and has already gained such\nan influence over him that his eye turns naturally toward her\nfor approval. Many times in a day he asks for and receives a full\nassurance of her entire forgiveness. Many hours are passed\nin recounting the events which have occurred since they last met,\nthe keen disappointment he experienced when at last, unable longer\nto endure the suspense, he wrote a friend in Madrid for news of her,\nand learned that it was supposed she was deceased, and had been\nfor many years.\n\nThe ring once wrested from her finger by her unnatural brother\nwas restored to its old place, it having been taken from the prisoner\njust before his execution. As they looked at it and called to mind\nall the wonderful providences which after so many years had brought\nthem together, their hearts were filled with new gratitude to their\nHeavenly Father, who had out of these afflictions led them to a\nknowledge of Himself.\n\nToward his beautiful daughter, Juliette Cheriton, Mr. Lambert\nexhibited a ludicrous respect, mingled with an unbounded admiration.\nHe found it extremely difficult to convince himself that she\nin reality was his child.  He watched her stealthily, blushing like a\nboy when caught doing so. On the subject of her husband he was\nat first reticent. It was, however, the occasion of reviving his old\nhabit of grumbling when he heard a wish expressed that Mr. Cheriton\nwould return, that there might be a complete union of the family.\nHe rushed about the room growling,\u2014\n\n\"He'd better not, the villain; I'd soon settle him. Let him\nstay away! I'll let him understand I don't intend to leave her\na penny.\"\n\nIn the mean time he lavished every indulgence upon her. She had\na pony carriage for her exclusive use. Her purse was kept filled\nto overflowing. If it had been possible to spoil her he would have\ndone it.  How often in these days her mother thanked God that her\ndaughter had not been brought into such temptations to worldliness\nuntil she had learned to place her affections on objects higher and\nmore enduring.\n\nFor his grandson Mr. Lambert felt such intense pride that he needed\nconstant checks in order that the boy need not take advantage of the\nfoolish fondness bestowed on him. If Mr. Lambert had never had\na master before, he had one now, and as we enter the house this\nbright autumnal morning, a sight meets us which is proof of the fact.\n\nA wide hall runs directly through the old-fashioned dwelling, and\nracing back and forth through this hall is our old friend, dressed as\nhis double, Mr. Regy, his long white hair floating behind him, as he\nobeys the whip of his young driver, and canters, trots, or walks\nin obedience to the orders of his grandson.\n\n\"Get up, horse; go faster, grandpa!\"\n\nGeenie in his voyage of discovery has resurrected many old and once\nfamiliar objects, and among them Mr. Regy's dress.\n\n\"What's this? Who wears this?\" he shouts, holding up the wig and\nbeard to view.\n\nBeing obliged to confess that he has sometimes worn these singular\narticles, the boy demands that they be at once used by his horse;\nand the owner, never dreaming that it was possible to refuse, donned\nthem, and with a pair of worsted reins round his body proceeded\nto jingle the bells, running and cantering, to the perfect delight\nof the young driver.\n\nWell for all concerned it was that Mrs. Cheriton had learned from sad\nexperience that if she wished her son to love and respect her\nshe must enforce obedience to her own commands and to the commands\nof God. Mr. Lambert, though he often pleaded that the child's wishes,\nhowever unreasonable, might be gratified, and was once or twice\ndetected in comforting him with confectionery under his\ndisappointments, yet acknowledged that his daughter's discipline\nwas necessary and must be maintained.\n\nA most ludicrous scene had once taken place between Eugene and his\ngrandfather, which those who saw it never forgot.\n\nThe boy had disobeyed, and his mother placed him in a room by himself\nto reflect upon his fault, for which he was to be punished. He was\nsitting soberly in the chair where she had placed him, when, hearing\na sound from the adjoining room, he went in and found his grandfather\nweeping.\n\n\"What are you crying for, grandpa?\" he asked, quickly.\n\n\"I don't want your mother to whip you, but she must; yes, it's right\nfor her to do it.\"\n\n\"Don't cry, grandpa; I don't mind. She doesn't hurt me any; she only\ntickles me a little. 'T isn't nice for a big man like you to cry.\"\n\n\"Eugene, come here,\" called his mother, taking his hand to lead him\nback to his chair. She repeated what she had heard to her mother,\nsaying,\u2014\n\n\"I had as much as I could do to keep from showing my amusement.\nFather looking so penitent, and Eugene comforting him.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nCHRISTMAS DAY.\n\nIT is Christmas day. The chimes in the spire of the new church\nare playing sweet melodies; and the Sunday-school children,\nwhose gift the chimes have been, are gathering together\nfrom all quarters of the town to practise with their teachers\nthe Christmas carols they are to sing.\n\nThis is the first service in the beautiful new church. It is\nto be publicly dedicated to the worship of God on the next Sabbath,\nbut for weeks the workmen have put forth all their energies\nto have it ready for a service on Christmas day. The choir have been\npractising, too; and it is rumored new organist is expected, although\nhis engagement does not commence till the first of January.\n\nThe sleigh-bells jingle merrily, for the ground is covered with snow.\nEven now, an hour before service, several stalls in the neat row\nof horse-sheds are occupied. Now here comes Farmer Rand, smiling and\nnodding, and shouting his Christmas salutations to young and old,\nas he drives his old horse up the ascent, through the gate close to\nthe nicely shovelled flagged walk to the front. The good farmer has a\nprecious load to-day, and he is very careful of it. Yes, that is\nLucy, his old woman, so wrapped up in shawls and buffalo-robes\u2014\nwith a hot brick in her great yellow muff, and another at her feet,\nwhich just now are cased in a pair of her husband's blue socks\u2014\nthat she finds it almost impossible to alight from the sleigh.\n\nFor weeks the good woman has been nursing her strength for this great\nand joyful occasion. For days she and her man have watched the signs\nof the weather, have even prayed that, if it was God's will, it might\nbe so propitious as to make it safe for her to go up to the house\nof the Lord and join with His people in their anthems of praise\nto the new-born King.\n\nFortunately the sexton has recognized the farmer, and runs quickly\nto offer his services it helping her to the porch. One and another\ncome forward to greet her and express their pleasure at seeing her\nhere. The children, even, gather round her pew and say,\u2014\n\n\"Merry Christmas, Miss Rand! How do you like the new church?\"\n\nYes, on this natal day of the world's Redeemer every face looks\njoyful, every voice responds heartily to the kind wishes of his\nneighbor. It is evident that a great wave of love and good-will\nis flowing through all their hearts as they suddenly pause and listen\nto the children's joyous tones chanting the strains the angels sang,\n\"Glory to God in the highest. Peace on earth, good-will to men.\"\n\nThe service is to commence at eleven. The hand on the new and elegant\nclock, a gift from the Pastor, points to five minutes before eleven;\nthe children have finished their practising and gone quietly\nto their seats at one end of the organ loft. The slips are all full.\nThere is a hush. There comes the pastor and his bride, not a\nstranger, but known and loved by all. Pausing for an instant to show\nher into the pew, the first one selected in the house, he passes on\nup the aisle into the study at the side of the pulpit. Ethel, the\nonly other occupant of the slip, causes a smile by her obsequious\nattentions to the bride. She takes a hymn-book from the rack, and,\nthough unable to read a word, opens it and passes it, gets as near\nMarion as possible, and finally, with a burst of affection,\nseizes her hand.\n\nAnd Marion, her beaming face radiant with happiness, stands up\nwith the congregation, while the choir sing the famous old fugue,\u2014\n\n\"While shepherds watched their flocks by night,\nAll seated on the ground,\nThe angel of the Lord came down,\nAnd glory shone around.\"\n\nRecalling all the goodness of the Lord to her during the last year,\nthe answers to her prayers, the many friends, who, one year ago,\nwere without Christ, now with Him, the happiness to which she\nmay look forward with the chosen companion of her life, her heart\nswells with gratitude to the good Father who has directed her path\nin such mercy, and to the dear Saviour whose advent they are\nso joyously celebrating. She thanks God, and takes courage to go\non laboring to bring those about her to a saving knowledge\nof His love.\n\nHer husband, glancing at her from the pulpit, sees that her eyes\nare filled with tears, and he, too, thanks God, as he says\nto himself, \"They are happy tears.\"\n\nAs long as we are the inhabitants of this earth, we must expect\noccasional clouds with our sunshine. Disappointments are the lot\nof mankind, and certainly neither Mr. Angus nor Miss Howard expected\nto be exempt from them. The plan from the first had been to have\nthe wedding the week before Christmas, and a reception or\nhousewarming at Ingleside the following Monday. But, from one cause\nand another, the new house was not finished, and this plan had to\nbe postponed.\n\nIt was Marion's preference to defer the wedding till such time as\nthe house was considered fit for occupation. Such a pressure was,\nhowever, brought to bear on her, that she yielded to the wishes\nof her friend. He brought so many arguments to prove that the plan\nhe now proposed was even better than the original one, that the\nfew weeks before entering on the duties of housekeeping would give\nher just the leisure necessary for the formation of some of their\nnew plans, etc., that, with a hearty laugh, she replied,\u2014\n\n\"I see that you intend to have your way, and as I believe that God\nintended the husband to be the head of the family, I suppose I may\nas well begin my obedience now. So on the week before Christmas\nthe wedding shall be.\"\n\nI am very sure if my reader had not seen Mr. Angus since I first\nintroduced him he would not recognize him now. Then he was bowed down\nwith grief, not only for himself, but for one whom he had\nevery reason to suppose was cherishing as toward her brother\nsuch anger in her heart as would cut her off from Divine forgiveness.\nHe was, or felt himself to be, alone in the world. He had no right\nto form a tie which would make another the sharer of such a burden\nas his. To be sure, he had brooded over that one scene in his past\nlife until he had become morbid, and perhaps had not relief come\nto him he might have become unfit to preach the gospel of glad\ntidings to his fellow-men. When he walked, his eyes were cast down\nto the ground, while sighs were much more frequent with him\nthan smiles.\n\nNow how different. He walked erect, with elastic tread, his eyes met\nyours with a frank smile.  One could scarcely be with him\nfive minutes without being drawn to him by a certain magnetism.\nYou felt that his heart was at rest, and more, you could not fail\nto be sure that he was grateful for God's goodness, that he\nwas literally obeying the Divine injunction, \"Rejoice in the Lord\nalway, and again, I say, rejoice.\"\n\nMr. and Mrs. Asbury cordially extended an invitation to the young\ncouple to remain with them till spring. The gentleman even urged\nthe necessity of having his niece close at hand until certain\nbuilding plans, etc., were complete. But this needs explanation.\n\nIt was not probable that such grateful friends as Mr. and Mrs.\nLambert would allow so grand an occasion as Miss Howard's marriage\nto take place without some act expressive of their deep affection and\nrespect. Now that Mr. Lambert had a wife and daughter with whom\nhe could consult, he spent much time in the discussion of what\nwould be the most acceptable wedding present. Once, hearing the word\n\"jewelry\" from his daughter, he shouted,\u2014\n\n\"Jewelry! Would she like diamonds? I'll buy up a case of them.\"\n\n\"I said I was sure she would not care for jewelry.\"\n\n\"What shall it be, then? Not that anything we can do will ever prove\nto her our sense of her goodness and faithfulness to us; but it\nmust be something to show her that I value my family, owe to her\nmy finding them.\"\n\nOne day, before she left the city, Marion accepted an urgent\ninvitation to pass a day at the country home of her friends.\nShe also was requested to bring Esther and Neddy Carter with her.\nDuring the day, the young lady, wholly unsuspicious of the object\nof the visit, frankly narrated her own and Mr. Angus's plans\nfor the good of the town. Among other things, she said that there\nwas no library for free circulation, adding, \"One of my\nmost-cherished plans is to build a neat and attractive house,\nwith two large rooms, one for a library of well-selected books,\nthe other a reading-room for both secular and religious papers,\nand also some of the best magazines. But we can't do everything\nin one year.\"\n\nMrs. Lambert had suggested to her impulsive husband that it would be\nmore delicate not to allude to the subject of a wedding gift,\nbut here, he thought, is just the way to please her. He rushed from\nthe room, motioning his wife to follow, and after sundry antics,\nsuch as would have better befitted Geenie's years, he drew a blank\ncheck, and with his fingers on his lips, held it up before his\nastonished companion.\n\n\"It's for the library,\" he said, putting his lips close to her ear.\n\nShe nodded approval with a cordial smile, but pointed to the blank\nspace.\n\n\"Let her fill it up. Will ten thousand do? It must be nothing mean.\"\n\n\"Suppose we wait a little and try to ascertain the probable cost.\"\n\n\"No, I can't wait! I want it off my mind. If you don't want to see\nold Mr. Regy,\" with a comical grin, \"you'll help me now.\"\n\nShe put her hand lovingly on his shoulder, which never failed to calm\nhis impatience, and asked softly, \"Why not, then, let her fill it up,\nas you suggested?\"\n\n\"So I will!\"  He held the check toward her and motioned her to give\nit.\n\n\"No, my dear, generous husband, that pleasure belongs to you; I can\nsee just how her eyes will sparkle and those pretty dimples begin\nto play.\"\n\nHe flatly refused. \"No,\" he said, laughing, \"if I were to attempt it\nI should be old Regy again in a minute.\"\n\nShe sat down at his desk and wrote,\u2014\n\nDear Friend,\u2014\n\nWe have tried in vain to think of a gift for your\napproaching marriage which will in any measure suitably express\nto you our appreciation of your invaluable friendship.\n\nYour remark just now in regard to a library and reading-room\nhas suggested the idea of giving to you funds sufficient for that\nworthy object and letting you use them as you think proper.\n\nJULIETTE D. LAMBERT.\nM. R. LAMBERT.\n\nShe gave it to her husband to read and sign, enclosed the blank\ncheck, and carried it into the next room and gave it to Miss Howard.\n\nWith what astonishment and delight the young lady read it,\nthe embraces and thanks which followed, I must leave my reader\nto imagine. In the midst of the excitement which followed,\nMr. Lambert, who had chosen to remain behind, raced from one end\nof the room to the other, where he was found by Eugene holding on\nto his sides and making the most strenuous endeavors to restrain\nhis laughter.\n\nIn consequence of this generous gift, a lot of land was purchased,\nnot far from the public school, and the town at a public meeting,\ncalled for the purpose, added to the library lot a large field\nformerly used for pasturage. This was to be fitted up for all sorts\nof games and athletic sports.\n\nMr. Lambert and his family went to Grantbury, and insisted that the\nlibrary building be two stories, the upper story to be finished off\ninto a hall for concerts, school exhibitions, etc. The eccentric old\ngentleman was very angry when it was proposed to name this \"Lambert\nHall,\" in token of gratitude to the giver.\n\n\"I've nothing to do with it,\" he insisted. \"Put it Howard Hall or\nAngus Hall, if you please.  It's nothing to me, any way.\"\n\n\"Except that your name stands at the bottom of the check for the\ncost,\" replied Marion, with an arch glance in his face.\n\n\"Things have come to a pretty pass\u2014wedding present\u2014chose that\nrather than diamonds.\"\n\nHe was growling away in the genuine old style, when Geenie made them\nall laugh heartily by calling out,\u2014\n\n\"Grandma, did you bring Mr. Regy's wig? He has come back again.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nOUR INGLESIDE.\n\nESTHER COLE had received two letters, or rather notes, from her\nhusband since the one she wrote him; but now months had passed\nwithout a word in answer to her regular weekly letter. Mr. Angus was\ngreatly interested in the young wife who was so patiently enduring\nher trials, and insisted that she ought to be allowed to follow\nthe dictates of her own conscience in regard to her connection with\nher husband.\n\nDay after day Esther looked for a letter, but looked in vain.\nAt length, pitying her too evident disappointment, Mr. Angus wrote\nto the chaplain of the prison, making inquiries in regard to the man.\nThe letter, about which he had said nothing, was answered\nimmediately, and contained a slip cut from an Auburn paper.\nJoseph Cole, with three of the worst prisoners, had escaped\nfrom their confinement early one dark night. They had nearly killed\na watchman who ran to give notice, and had so far escaped justice.\n\nThe chaplain added that the criminals had been subsequently traced\nto New Orleans, where a gang of roughs had been seized for arson and\nmurder.  On the trial it was proved that the younger and apparently\nthe most hardened had a number of aliases, but that his real name\nwas Joseph Cole.\n\n\"My poor, trusting Esther!\" exclaimed Marion to her husband, \"this\nwill end your faith in your husband's reformation. This will settle\nthe question of your return to him.\"\n\nBut greatly to her surprise, and to the surprise of all Esther's\nfriends, though she mourned so deeply over Joseph's sins that her\ncheeks grew colorless and her eyes looked into yours more wistfully\nthan ever, she yet held fast to her belief that God had power\nto touch the hardest heart, and that in answer to her importunate\nprayers He would, in His own good time, lead him to penitence and\na godly life.\n\n\"Whether he ever comes back to me or not is of little consequence,\nma'am,\" she said, as Marion was trying to comfort her. \"I don't think\nI shall live many years, but, oh, I do long for him to know how God\ncan comfort people! What would I do now, ma'am, if I were without\nChrist, as I once was? If poor Joe only had Christ, he would be\nhappier than he ever was in his life, even though he is in his cell.\"\n\nThe last was said with a piteous sob, which went to the listener's\nheart far more than the loudest wails.\n\nAnd here we must leave our humble friend. We know that God did fill\nher heart with such thoughts of Himself, of His pitying tenderness\ntoward all His creatures, that she was comforted under the bitterest\nsorrow a Christian can be called to endure,\u2014the unworthiness\nof those we love.  We leave her to the gracious sympathizing Saviour.\n\nGlancing forward a few years, I am sure the reader will be pleased\nto learn that Neddy Carter is fulfilling the promise of his\nchildhood. Meeting him in the street, one would never imagine that he\nis indebted to artificial supports for his ability to go from place\nto place, while his clear, brown eyes, looking you so straight in the\nface, his open brow, and abundant, wavy locks, interest the most\ncasual observer.\n\nIf he were asked, \"Who is the happiest youth in this great city?\"\nhe would, without hesitation, answer,\u2014\n\n\"It would be hard to find a happier boy than I am since my mother\ngoes with me regularly to church.\"\n\nHe is and will be for years to come a prot\u00e9g\u00e9 of Mr. Lambert, who has\ngiven over a sum of money to proper guardians for the purpose\nof educating him.\n\nThe library building is finished, the shelves are lined with books\nselected by the pastor, who is the chairman of the library\nassociation, and a company of ladies and gentlemen appointed for the\npurpose. The hall above, forty feet by sixty, is fitted up with\na curtain, foot-lights, etc., but can never be used except with the\nconsent of Mrs. Marion Howard Angus. After many discussions, the name\n\"Howard Hall\" is conspicuous over the desk, but our old friend Marion\nis eager to assure every one who points to it that it is a memorial,\nnot to herself, but to her father.\n\nA very pleasant circumstance in connection with the library is that\nMary Falkner, now confirmed in health and activity, was unanimously\nchosen librarian, with a salary large enough to support herself and\nher mother.\n\nOne more scene, and I have done.\n\nAccompany me, dear reader, up this smoothly gravelled walk to the\nelegant mansion at the summit of Church Hill. Notice as you pass\nthat luxurious vine winding itself so lovingly around the pillars.\nThe slip from which it has grown was brought by Mr. Angus from the\nold Ingleside homestead.\n\nAlthough it is June, the mornings are cool, and as we push open\na French window and step in from the wide, uncovered piazza, we see\nan open fireplace, with a few embers smouldering away on the high\nbrass and irons. There is an air of refinement and cosey, homelike\ncomfort about the room that we would like to describe, but something\nof still greater interest attracts us.\n\nSitting on a low chair near the fire is a young girl, whom we soon\nrecognize as the little Ethel we loved so dearly. As we have seen her\nso many times, she is still hovering over a cradle, but this time\nthe occupant is a living, breathing, cooing, jumping, heart-winning\nbaby.\n\nAt this moment the little one is sleeping. Ethel gazes lovingly\nat the fair countenance, the rosy lips moving in pleasant\nrecollection of the sweets it has tasted, the long, curly lashes\nresting on the plump cheek, and acknowledges to herself\nthat live babies are a great improvement on dolls.\n\nNow voices are heard in the hall. Just as a lady and gentleman enter,\na carryall drives to the door. The gentleman has on his arm sundry\nwraps, an afghan, a tiny cap being daintily held on his outstretched\nfingers. There is a new expression on his features, and we can\nscarcely believe that this tall athlete, this noble-looking man,\nwith a smile on his lips, which looks as though it belonged there,\nis the same gentleman whom we first knew as Harold Angus.\n\nBut how shall I describe our Marion? The eyes are as bright,\nthe dimples still in view, but the whole face is flooded\nwith a new light. It is the mother love.\n\nShe takes little Stella from the cradle, uttering those soothing\nsounds which even the youngest babies so well understand, and\ndresses her for the ride, Ethel, meanwhile, looking on\nin wondering admiration.\n\nThey are going to the station to meet their dear friends, Dr. and\nMrs. B-, from the Home for the Sick, and when they have driven\naround the town, intend to bring them home for a quiet Sunday.\n\nAnd this is our Ingleside.","title":"Ingleside; $b or, Without Christ and with Him","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":73642}