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/// coursi' of preparation, ajid will shortly be published,
Vols. IT. and III. of

CANADIAN PRIZE SUNDAY-SCHOOL BOOKS.

The Old and the Kew Home.

A CANADIAN TALE.

By J. E.

Je^3IE Qrey;

OR,

THE DISCIPLINE OF LIFE

A CANADIAN TALE.

By M. L. G.

TORONTO: JAMES CAMBBELL AND SOX.
May be ordered of any Bookseller in the Dominion.

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Katip: Johnstone's Cross

^i (CunabiniT (Talc

i^r ./. J/. .)/.

With patience, then, the course uf iliity run ;

Ciocl never iIol's, nor sulFers to be dou--.

Hut tlKit ulii'li thou would'ht wisli, if thou couM^t see

The eiKJ of all events as well as He ! "

r o R c) N r ( )

J A M K S C A M P 15 K L I, A N 1) SO X

1870

^^tSRii.

Kniercd, accordim- to Act of the Parliament of Cauada, in the
year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Sroenty, /^j/ J AMES
Cami'iseli., in the Of/ice of the Minister of Agriculture.

CONTENTS.

r." •■?

CHAPTER I.'

WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH

CAGK

CHAPTER II.

A FIRST SORROW

CHAPTER HI.

HE 8TATETH HIS ROUGH WIND IN THE

wind" .

DAY OF THE EAST

CHAPTER IV^

GOOD FRIDAY

CHAPTER V.

A HOME MISSION

CHAPTER VI.

AN EVENING TALK

5-1

HIDDEN TROUBLES

CHAPTER VII.

• •

•^

CONTENTS.

CIIAPTEli VIII.

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FlilENl)

PAilK

OHAPTEK IX.

A VISIT

CHAPTER X.

NED's FRIENDS

107

CHAPTER XI.

SUNSHINE AND SHADE

12;)

SORROW

CHAPTER XII.

121)

COMFORT

CHAPTER XIII.

142

A SUDDEN SHOCK

CHAPTER XIV

LIG

THE SEA-SIDE

CHAPTER XV.

171

CHAPTER XVI.

THORNS IN THE WAY

182

CHAPTER XVII.

CHANGES

195

CHAPTER XVIII.

GOING HOME .

202

PAdK

79
04

107

\2d

12')

142

ir.c

171

182

195

202

CHAPTER I.

Sin^at a ^aQ mag bring fort^.

" How few, who from their youthful di»y

Look on to what their life niay be>
Painting; the vision of the way

In colours soft, and bright, and free ;—
How few, who to such paths have brou(;ht

The hopes and dreams of early thought I
For God, through ways thej have n«t known.

WiUleadUlsownl"

HE half-golden, half-rosy glow of the early
winter morning was just beginning to
brighten up the village of Lynford, and
show against the clear frosty sky the wreatli-
ing plumes of smoke that ascended from the hete-
rogeneous cluster of houses which lay straggled
along the river-bank, and back to the quiet
country fields. In one of the houses, of rather
superior pretensions, standing a little way back
from one of the quieter streets, with a garden
space in front of it, the morning brightness was
lighting up a plain, imluxurioui sleeping apart^
ment, in which a little girl of some thirteen or
fourteen years was performing her toilet as fast

; II

WHA T A DAY MAY BRIfTG FOR TIT.

08 frost-nipped fingers would do it. That completed,
and a hurried — alas! too hurried — prayer said, she ran
quickly down to the only warm place to be found at that
early hour in the house, the hall-stove, and, taking up a
Batchel of books, was soon deep in the study of " Mag-
naU'a Questions" and "Pinnock's Catechism." Before the
earnest revisal was completed — it was a monthly exami-
nation-day— the one domestic of the household, a hard-
featured, but kindly-looking woman, appeared with
tumed-up sleeves, bringing a little tray, on which were
coffee and bread and butter for the young student.

"You'd better have your breakfast here, Miss Katie ;
for it 's dreadful cold yet in the sitting-room, and no one
stirrin' yet but yourself.'*

It was nearly the same speech wliich almost always
accompanied Katie's breakfast, for there was not much
family life in her home ; and the little girl, having to
start early for school, was accustomed to have no com-
pany but her books at the morning meal. She could re-
member when it had been otherwise ; but her mother was
often ailing now, ever since Hughie had been laid in his
little grave under the pine-trees ; and " papa — well, papa
was often very strange now ; " and her dear brother Ned,
Katie's especial hero and idol, was far away at college, and
would not be back till the grass was growing green again.
So Katie hastily swallowed her solitary breakfast, and
rushe<l up-stairs to put on her wraps for school. Some one
was stirring then, however, and as she passed a half-closed
door on her way down again, a sweet, though careworn,
face looked out, and a gentle voice said, " Katie, darling,

■?

ir//A T A DAY MAY BRING FOR TIf.

pleted,
he ran
at that
ig up a
" Mag-
fore tlie
exanii-
i hanl-
L with
;h were

Katie ;
no one

always
t much
ving to
10 com-
)uld Te-
ller was
in his
1, papa
r Ned,
, and
again.
and
e one
closed
lewom,
ailing,

lae.

it *8 a cold morning — are you sure you are well wrapped
up?"

The little girl warmly returned her mother's kiss and
embrace, and assured her " she had put on everything she
could think of." " And I must be quick, mamnui, dear,
— for it 's examination-day, and I 've a lesson to look over
yet when I get to school, and you know I want to get
marks for the Easter prize ! "

"Well, don't set your heart too much on it, Katie.
Oood-by, my o'vn darling." And the mother, with, per-
haps, that strange prevision of toming ill which sometimes
weighs down our hearts without apparent reason, chisped
her bright, happy Katie, — her only comfort, as she uncon-
sciously called her, — to her heart, and again kissing her,
let her go. We will not linger over her morning's work,
her persevering, loving efforts to soothe the capricious fret-
fulness of a gloomy, dispirited man, sunk into morning
misery in the reaction resulting from the excitement of
evening dissipation, but who had been the loving husband
of her youth, and whose sins her woman's love still sought
to cover. Such scenes are of too frequent occurrence, but
they are too sad to chronicle ; and it is Katie — not Katie'a
mother — with whom our story has most to do.

It was with light and bounding steps — for she was a
joyous-hearted child — that Katie Johnstone hastened along
the village street. Few could notice her that morning
without looking again at the bright, gentle face, with
much of her mother's sweetness in it, the rosy colour
heightened by the frosty air, the sparkling gray eyes, and
the clustering chestnut hair that escaped from the gray

H^/IA T A DAY MA Y BRmC FOR TH.

squirrel cap, rather the worse for the wear. Not that Katie
minded this much ; her head was happily too full at that
moment of the dates of the reigns of the English kings,
which she was trying to reduce to their proper order, in a
brain not so quick at figures as at most other things. Her
train of thought was, however, inteiTupted by the scraping
of little paws against her dress, which made her aware that
her pet dog. Jet, had escaped from Martha's watchful morn-
ing supervision, and was demonstrating his delight at hav-
ing made good his purj^ose of accompanying his little mis-
tress to school. Poor Jet was, like many human beings,
not wise enough to know that the securing of the object
on which they are most set is sometimes the worst thing
that can befall them. However, it was too late now to
take him back, so Katie was obliged, not very reluctantly
it must be confessed, to let him follow her the rest of the
way to school, where she coaxed him into his usual place
on such occasions, the mat in the lobby, on which he lay,
stretching out his paws to the grateful heat.

Miss Fleming's "Academy for Young Ladies" was ono
of the old-fashioned type, where verbal accuracy of repetition
and neat sewing were the chief things insisted on, — very
good things, too, so far as they go. Few girls left the
school without being able to do " plain sewing " with skill ;
and the embroidery they wrought was celebrated for miles
around, for the farmers' daughters, who came as boarders,
generally carried home with them some trophy of their
achievements in this line. Miss Elizabeth Fleming taught
the rudiments of music on an old-fashioned jingling piano
to the girls whose parents desired for them that ladylike

t Katie
at that
I kings,
er, in a
8. Her
scrapin*,'
are tliat
il morn-
, at liav-
ttle mis-
beings,
e object
rat tiling
now to
uctantly
3t of the
al place
I he lay,

was onr
^petition
1, — very
left the
h skill;
or niilea
oarders,
lof their
taught

ig piano

La<

dylil

ice

U'HA T A DAY MAY BRING FOR TH.

accomplishment. Of these, Katie, however, was not one, her
mother being able to give her at home as much instruction
in music as she was y^i capable of ; and the fees, small as
they were, being of some importance in a family where
money was not too plentiful.

To-day was, as Katie had said, the monthly revisal and
examination day; and since on the results of these ex-
aminations depended the appropriation of the prize for
general proficiency to be given at Easter, there was more
excitement as the girls took their places than usually at-
tended the routine of the daily lessons. Katie took her
place with a bright consciousness that she was thoroughly
at home in most of the prescribed subjects, the dates being
the only thing that troubled her. She was quicker and
fonder of study than most of her classmates, and she would
have had but little fear for the prize, which she was am-
bitious to carry off, had it not been for the presence of a
girl about her own age, who was not one of Miss Fleming's
regular scholars. The Winstanleys, who lived in the hand-
somest house about Lynford, had usually a daily governess,
and they were not allowed to mix much with the Lynford
girls ; but as the young lady who discharged the duties of
governess had been for some time unavoidably absent. Miss
Clara Winstanley was for the present a pupil of Miss
Fleming's. She was a lively, clever girl, with a retentive,
ready memory, which seldom failed, above all in the matter
of dates, especially when they had been recently learned ;
80 that Katie had begun to consider her a dangerous rival,
Katie had been stimulated to unusual exertions on this
occasion, and the competition was rather in her favour, till

Ill

PFHA T A DAY MAY BRING FOR TH.

Miss Fleming asked a question which she answered at
once, according to its apparent meaning, but which was not
the one the teacher had intended to put. The question
was, to Katie's indignant surprise, passed on to Clara, who
was next, and whose quick perception enabled her to dis-
cover the meaning intended, and answer it coiTectly. Poor
Katie felt unjustly treated, and the incident so disturbed
her presence of mind that more than one mistake followed,
and she found herself, at the close of the examination,
several marks below Clara Winstanley. It was extremely
vexatious, — the more so, as she perceived that Clara was
quite aware of the unfair advantage she had had ; and
Katie thought that, had she been in her place, she would
have been generous enough to confess it, even though it
Were to her own disadvantage. Perhaps in this Katie was
wrong ; it is not always easy to place ourselves in the
position of those who we think have injured us. She could
not help, therefore, confiding to one or two of the girls
who gathered round her to talk after lessons, that she
thought it was " a shame " (in which they willingly acqui-
esced ; for Miss Clara Winstanley's higher position and
pretensions excited some jealousy at school), and she could
not give a very cordial parting &alutation to her rival, who
was waiting to be called for, and meantime amusing a
circle of listeners with an animated account of some gaieties
she had had at home.

But at fourteen, few vexations are long proof against the
exhilarating influence of the bracing air and dazzling sun-
shine of a bright Canadian winter day, and in her amuse-
ment at Jet's antics, as, in his highest spirits, he capered

swered at
3h was not
e question
Z!lara, who
ler to dis-
tly. Poor
disturbed
i followed,
imination,
extremely
Ulara was
had; and
she would
though it
Katie was
;s in the
She could
the girla
that she
;ly acqui-
tion and
she could
ival, who •
nusing a
3 gaieties

ainst the
ling sun-
r amuse-
! capered

VIl.l.AGK (»K I.VNl'OKU.

" Here and there a more showy equi{)agc daslied by with its
merry jingle of bells." — ^iigi' 7-

ir//A T A DAY MAY BRING FOR TH.

ahout over the pure sparkling snow, Katie soon forgot hers.
It was a market-day, and the village was full of country
" teams," starting for home after the wares had been sold
and the various purchases made, and here and there a more
showy equipage dashed by with its merry jingle of bells.
Katie long afterwards remembered the " look " of every-
thing that day, — the gay ringing bells and the shouts
of the drivers, the clear blue of the sky and the pure
white of the light clouds that floated over it, the dazzling
glitter of the diamond-crusted snow, and, above all, the
joyous little black figure that danced along before her, —
all came back vividly to her imagination on many an after
day, for that was the last hour of unclouded childish glee
which Katie was ever to know.

At a sudden turning in one of the busiest streets of Lyn-
furd, Katie caught sight of an apparition which always
excited her dread — a^ least when her little dog was •with
her — Jim Egan, and his grim-faced bull-terrier. It was a
question whether Jim or his terri':>r was most disliked and
dreaded in Lynford. As they were almost always together,
comparison could not be very easily made, and the matter
decided. Jim was the more versatile and ingenious in his
ways of doing mischief; Snap the more deadly and de-
termined in liis — as eats and small dogs often found to
their cost. Jim was proud of the acknowledged prowess
of his dog, and of the terror he inspired; and his mis-
chievous, perverted boy-nature found a malicious pleasure
in threatening the lives of the pets of little girls especi-
ally. Several times had Jet been in deadly peril horn.
the ferocious terrier — at least so Katie thought ; though

■ll

ll I

■: I

ill

W//A T A DAY MAY BRING FOR TK.

it is probal)le that even Jim's love of mischief would not
have allowed him to stand by and see Snap proceed to
extremities. Jet's dread of his enemy was naturally ex-
treme ; and now, when he came suddenly upon him, he
retreated precipitately towards the middle of the street,
whining and turning appeaUngly to his mistress for pro-
tection. Jim, enjoying the evident terror both of the dog
and the little girl, encouraged Snap to give chase, when
Katie, crying out, " Oh, my dog ! my dog ! " sprang for-
ward to seize the frightened little animal before Snap's
onset should be made. Just as she was stooping to pick
him up — wholly absorbed in her eagerness to save him —
the Winstanleys' large family-sleigh, with its gay fur
trappings and spirited black horses, came dashing round
the corner, close behind her. It was too late to rein them
in, and before Katie could even become aware of the dan-
ger she was in, one of the shafts of the sleigh struck her
with violence, and threw her aside to some distance, where
she lay stunned and senseless on the snow.

*' O mamma ! it 's Katie Johnstone ! " exclaimed Clara
Winstanley, with white, horror-stricken face and trembling
voice, as she recognised the tartan frock which she had
seen so recently. Mrs Winstanley, distressed and ter-
rified, was beside the little prostrate figure almost before
the sleigh could be drawn up. A little crowd had already
collected around the child, who, though unconscious,
moaned as they tried to lift her, and some one run off to find
the nearest doctor, who was quickly on the spot. After a
cursory examination, he expressed his fear that the injuries

were serious, and offered to accompany the little sufferer

IVffA T A DAY MAY BRING FOR TH.

llld not
)ceed to
ally ex-
him, he
e street,
for pro-
the dog
36, when
ang for-
e Snap's

to pick
e him —
gay fnr
ig round
jin them
ithe dan-
•uck her

!, where

d Clara
mbling
she had
nd ter-
before
already
scions,
to find
ifter a
ijuries
kufferer

home ; and Mrs Winstanley, only too glad to devolve upon
some one else so painful a task, gratefully accepted his
offer. Under his superintendence, Katie was gently and
carefully raised from the ground, and laid upon the soft pile
of furs arranged for her in the bottom of the capacious
sleigh, which then was slowly driven off towards the home
where Katie's mother was already watching for her return
— little knowing what a home-coming it was to be.

But poor little Jet was left lying motionless on the snow.
The horse's hoof had struck him as he fell from Katie's
grasp, and the blow had ended his joyous little life for
ever.

'.)

'CHAPTER II.

^ <^ir8t Sorrofij.

" A little silent grassy mound —
And is this all is left of thee,
Whose feet would o'er the meadow bound,
So full of eager Ufo and glee T"

S soon as the crowd of bystanders, which
every little excitement so quickly collects,
had completely dispersed, most of them in
the direction in which the sleigh was slowly
moving, Jim Egan cautiously emerged from the
archway into which, fearing summary vengeance
from any one who might have noticed his share in
i ^ the accident, he had retreated, as soon as he had in
some degree realised the extent of the disaster
which he had been instrumental in causing. His
quick eye instantly fell on the little black figure on
the snow, and with a pang of real regret and com-
punction— for he had often secretly admired Jet — •
he stood for a moment dismayed and undecided ;
then, darting forward while no one was looking that way,
he seized the lifeless form of the little creature in his arms,

A FIRST SORROW.

and, closely foUowetl by Snap, struck down the first back
street towards the place he called home — one of a cluster of
miserable huts that stood, surrounded by little patches of
ground, on the outskirts of the village, close to the river,
lie did not, however, stop at the door, where a gaunt,
\NTetched-looking woman was standing, having set down
her pail in order to have a colloquy with some passing
neighbour. Her shrill exclamation, " Arrah, then ! what
mischief has that boy been at now ? " warned Jim to keep
his burden out of sight if possible, which he ingeniously
managed to do, as, disregarding his mother's peremptory
summons, he hurried on to an empty outhouse not far off.
There he set down the little dead animal, and stood for
some time ruefully contemplating it, with more of remorse
and softened feeling than Jim Egan had ever before expe-
rienced. It had been such a playful, knowing little crea-
ture ; he had often watched its ways with mingled admir-
ation and envy ; and the thought of the sorrow which its
death would occasion came into his mind. It touched him
a great deal more than the accident to Katie herself, who,
he knew, had not been killed or " run over," and therefore
would, he supposed be all right again soon. But the dog's
death was something irretrievable — irremediable ; and Jim
felt so uncomfortable, that, having no other outlet for his
remorse, he vented it in a kick at the astonished Snap, as
he came snuffing around, and thus experienced the truth
that accomplices in evil are not always the most welcome
companions after the evil has been done. Jim's cogitations,
although they did not express themselves in soliloquy,

ended in a determination to make a rough box with such

A FIRST SORROW.

nule tools of his father's as he had been occasionally usiiij,',
and to give the poor thing a decent burial. " Maybe she '11
never be told what happened to it," he thought ; " and if
she should, it '11 please her to know it wasn't left on the
streets."

So, to make the only amends in his power, there com*
mepced an afternoon of unwonted industry for Jim. The
box, clumsily fashioned as it was, gave his awkward hands
some little practice, and for once in his life Jim spent
several consecutive hours without getting into a single
piece of mischief ; so true is the hymn which most of us
learned among our earliest acquisitions, that —

" Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do ; "

and, therefore, the best thing for any boy or girl incor-
rigibly given to mischief, is to be engaged in some work
in which he or she can take a real interest. "When, a day or
two after, a rapid thaw had carried away much of the deep
snow. Jet was taken, in liis rough coffin, to a little knoll
under two over-arching elms, on a piece of " common " that
lay between Jim's home and the hoiise of Katie Johnstone's
father, and there carefully buried— Snap, poor fellow,
having no real malice in his fierce canine heart, standing
by with wondering eyes, the sole spectator. The place of
burial had been selected by Jim partly from its con-
venience for performing the operation unseen, and partly
from an instinctive, half-developed feeling, that should
Katie come to ascertain the fact of the death of her
favourite, she would be glad it was buried within sight

A FIRST SORROW,

illyusiujr,
rbe she '11
; "and if
ft on the

lere com*
im. The
ird hands
im spent
a single
LOSt of lis

ifl incor-
me work
a day or
;he deep
le knoll
>n"that
nstone's
fellow,
tanding
lace of
s con-
partly
should
»f her
sight

of her home : for there are instincts in uncultivated na-
tures like Jim's which certainly were never planted there
by any human agency.

"We have purposely refrained from describing the grief
in the home which Katie had so blithely left, when she
was carried back to it, unconscious, possibly dying. All
who have ever known a family sorrow will be able to
imagine the hush of grief and anxiety that fell upon the
house, the suspense while the doctor was making his ex-
amination, and the mingled relief and sadness witli which
Mrs Johnstone received his final opinion, that while no
vital injury could be discovered, it was evident the spine
had suffered seriously ; but, with the utmost care, and
with youth and health in the little patient's favour, he
thought there was every prospect of a final restoration, at
least to comparative strength. His words, kind and par-
tially reassuring as they were, fell somewhat chillingly on
the mother's heart, weighing it down with a fear of which
she dared not risk the confirmation by expressiug it. So
she strove to hush it down for the present, feeling that
" sufficient for the day is the evil thereof," and going back
to the sick-room, strove to bury the dread of the future in
doing everything for the little sufferer that care and tender-
ness could accomplish.

It was two or three days before Katie so far recovered
from the shock to her system as to be conscious of any-
thing but a confused sense of acute suffering, to relieve
which opiates had to be frequently administered. At last,
in a comparative lull of pain, and when vitality seemed to
be once more reasserting itself, the particulars of the acci-

A FIRST SORROW.

il; :

11 :

dent seemed to come up before her in a sudden flash.
Then came a thrill of fear concerning Jet.

" 0 mamma ! was Jet hurt ? " she asked, in a trembling,
breathless tone, that went to her mother's heart, as she re-
collected with sudden uneasiness that since the morning of
Katie's accident she had seen nothing of tlie dog, of which,
indeed, in her overpowering anxiety for Katie, she had
scarcely thought. Now, however, knowing what a grief it
would be for Katie, and how hard to bear in her present
circumstances, if anything had happened to poor Jet, it
was with real anxiety and misgiving that she went to
question Martha about him. Martha had not forgotten
him, though every one else had, and being really fond of
him, both for his own sake and Katie's, had instituted a
private search of her own, but had not succeeded in dis-
covering any trace of him.

" An' it 's my belief, ma'am, that the poor creature won't
be seen no more, or he 'd never have stayed away from Miss
Katie," said poor Martha, very mournfully, for Jet had
been " great company " to her, and she missed him more
than she would have liked to acknowledge.

Poor Katie ! The thought of Jet's being lost or killed
was very hard to bear ! The physical injuries to herself
which had been caused by the accident she had as yet
scarcely realised, further than in the immediate pain she
had to suffer ; but the loss of her littlo friend and com-
panion and playmate — the o'^ly playmate of the somewhat
isolated child — was a calamity keenly and immediately
felt. For the time her own pain, was quite forgotten in her
anxious surmises as to his fate ; and the fast-flowing tears,

A FIRST SORROW.

en flaBh.

•embling,
IS she re-
lorning of
of which,

she had
; a grief it
er present
or Jet, it
I went to

forgotten
ly fond of
istituted a
led in di»«

ure won't
Tom Miss
Jet had
lim more

or killed

to herself

id as yet

pain she

md com-

lomewhat

lediately

jn in her

ig tears,

which pain could not bring often, drepched her pillow
when no one was near, as sorrowful visions rose before her
of the possible ways in which Jet, deprived of his niii-
trcss's protection, had met his end. He occupied her mind
for days, almost to the exclusion of everything else. She
would often fancy she heard his little light feet pattering
along the hall or up the stairs, or that she could feel the
gentle scraping upon her bed, preparatory to his bound up
beside her. And then she would wake up again to the
reality of Jet lost, and a burst of crying would follow. She
always, however, kept down the manifestation of her grief
in her mother's presence, knowing how it would distress
her ; and Mrs Johnstone sometimes wondered how well
Katie bore the loss of her favourite.

One day, however, while her mother was out on some
necessary errand, the doctor, entering suddenly, found
Katie crying quietly under her quilt.

" "Why, what 's the matter % " said he, in some surprise —
for he had admired the fortitude with which she had borne
her physical suffering — " your back isn't paining you worse,
is it?"

Poor Katie could not at once reply, and Martha answered
for her —

" Indeed, sir, it 's not that she *s crying for, I '11 be bound ;
but she takes on terrible after her little dog, that was lost
the day she w?s hurt'*

"Ah ! that's it, is iti" said the doctor, who, being some-
what of a dog-fancier himself, could appreciate such a mis-
fortune ; so he did not laugh at Katie's sorrow, and scold
her for crying, as some might have done, but talked kindly

'IN

! I

iii i

(l.'l

ill

■um

III

A FIRST SORROW.

and sympathisingly to the child, till he drew her out to tell
him her chief trouble, how she feared lest the dog had
been only hurt, and being disabled ^"om getting home,
had lingered on in pain, and died from cold and neglect.

"If I only knew he had been killed directly, and not
hurt very much, I wouldn't mind nearly so much, doctor,"
said Katie, who already felt the comforting influence of the
kindly sympathy, and the relief of talking about the grief
which had been weighing upon her mind.

" Well, try to cheer up, like a good child, and I '11 under-
take to find out, if I can, what became of Jet. I don't
think it requires a detective to do that in Lynford." Then,
as Katie smiled faintly, and thanked him, he stopped to
add (for he was one of those physicians — would there were
more ! — who love to own as the Head of their profession
the Great Physician himself), "And, my child, whether
we find out or not, don't forget that our Saviour says that
e'T'en a sparrow does not fall to tlie ground without the
permission of our Father in heaven."

It was a word in season, an entirely new source of com-
fort to Katie, who lay thinking about it nearly all day.
Here had she been grieving over her dog's fate as if there
were no care and protection for it but hers : as if the Creat-
ing Love which had given and preserved its little innocent
life could not be trusted to dispose of that life in the best
way, though she might not be able to see it to be so. If
God cared for the sparrows, would He not have cared for
Jet ! Katie had read that verse often, and repeated it at
Sunday-school, but she had never really thought of its

meaning till now. Ah ! to how many of us do the Divine

A FIRST SORROW.

Bayings need to come pointed with the arrow of some
special affliction, before we can fully realise their beauty
and power ! Katie had not had much home-teaching in
these matters. Her mother, a sincere, humble Christian,
meekly bearing the many troubles which had fallen to
her lot in that higher strength which alone could have sus-
tained her, had herself been brought to the loving Saviour
only through severe trial ; but, from being timid and shy
in speaking of the things that lay nearest her heart, as well
as from an exaggerated feeling of her ovm deficiency in
spiritual knowledge, she had not been in the habit of speak-
ing much to her young daughter of the blessed faith which
she so earnestly prayed might become the principle of her
life. She might have felt a greater necessity for doing so
had she not trusted too much to the teaching of the Sunday-
school, which, however useful it may be as an accompani-
ment to the teaching of the fireside, is of necessity too
general, too little adapted to the individuality of the re-
cipient, to be a perfect substitute. Besides, Katie's delicacy
of constitution had made her attendance very irregular,
and, even when present, she had been apt, like many chil-
dren, to consider her toacliei'a exhortations, dimple and
earnest though they were, too much as matters of course,
which the next thing that interested her would efface from
her mind. So, though her Bible knowledge was by no
means deficient, and she knew by heart the leading formulas
of tlie Christian faith, she had never yet come to under-
stand them as relating practically to herself — had nevei
felt that need of a Saviour which must come to every soul,
old or young, when its own lu'lplessness for good and biaa

<*.

A FIRST SORROW.

v»

i! I

I'll

toward evil are once fully realised. It seemed as if God
■weie now taking her apart for a time, to teach her in His
own way the things that were for her peace.

The kind doctor did noc forget the promise he had made
to his little patient. He had been told of Jim Egan's con-
nexion with the accident, and, from his knowledge of the
boy's wild, mischievous character, he had no doubt that he
was in some way connected with Jet's disappearance. Ac-
cordingly, the first time he encountered him in his rounds,
he surprised him by the peremptory demand, " What he
had done to Miss Johnstone's little dog ? " The doctor's
question, however, instead of producing the intimidating
effect intended, only roused Jim's defiance, and made him
sulky and evasive : impertinent he probably would have
been but for his secret dread of Dr Elliott's powerful arm.

Seeing that his first method was not likely to succeed,
the doctor tried another plan, and, in a milder tone, told
him of the little girl's grief for the loss of her dog, and of
her anxiety to know what his fate really had been. Jim's
face visibly softened as he went on, and at last he muttered,
in a much humbler tone —

" I didn't do nothin' to the dog, sir."

" "What did, then ? " quickly asked the doctor.

" I found it lyin' on the street, dead, just after the sleigh
went awav. I cjuess one of the horses kicked it."

" Well ; and when you found it, did you leave it
there?"

"No, sir."

" What did you do with it ? "

" I tuk it home, and buried it out on the common."

A FIRST SORBOIV.

as if God
lier in His

had made
iigaii's con-
idge of tlie
ibt that he
ance. Ac-
his rounds,
"What he
'he doctor's
atimidating
I made him
would have
^^erful arm.
r to succeed,
31 tone, told
og, and of
3een. Jim's
le muttered,

2r the sleigh

;;

au leave it

nmon."

" Buried it ! " said the doctor, in much surprise :^ " and
what made you do that ? "

" I thought she wouldn't like to have it lyin' about the
street."

The doctor was a good deal taken by surprise. This was
R development in Jim's character for which he had not
been prepared. Presently he asked him if he ever did any
honest work.

" Don't never get any to do," responded Jim, grimly.

" Well, hold my horse here for half-an-hour, and I 'U
give you sixpence for it."

"Yes, sir." Jim accordingly took his position at tlie
horse's head, and stood there patiently for the full half-
hour, resisting the suggestions of various boys of his ac-
quaintance who chanced to loiter along, that they should
get in and have a drive, " for a lark," while the doctor was
out of sight. Had Jim not been in a position of responsi-
bility, he would have been one of the foremost to suggest
and carry out such an idea ; but the wonderfully new sen-
sation of being trusted to dc something useful, acted power-
fully upon him, and even widened his vision to perceive
that there were better things in life than " larks."

When Dr Elliott came out, and, gratified with the result
of his experiment, handed the boy a sixpence, with an
advice to look out for honest work and do it, Jim walked
off with a feeling more nearly approaching to self-respect
than he remembered to have ever before experienced.

Possibly, too, the doctor, as he drove away, thought of
Jim with more respect, and with better hope that he might
yet turn out a respectable member of society.

•\ .

M ! 1
'I

,|li!M|

CHAPTER III.

" |5« stanct^ ^is roug^ foinb in il^i bag
of t^e «ast foinb."

" If lovingf hearts were never lonely,
If all they wish might always be,
Accepting what they looked for only,
They might be glad, but not in Thee."'

S tlie bleak, cold, often stormy, days of Feb-
ruary glided silently into the bright after-
noons and lengthening daylight of March,
Katie continned still a close prisoner to her
little bed. It had been removed, however, into her
laother's room, both on account of its greater size
and comfort as a sick-room, and of the cheerfulness
of its open fire, ■vvhich, though not absolutely needed
for warmth in ordinary weather, was a source of
great enlivenment to Katie in the long evenings, as
she lay and watched the flickering blaze, or the
wavering shadows wliich it cast in the winter dusk,
before the lamp was lighted.

Her mother did all in her power to lighten the
tedi'im of her imprisonment, sitting almost constantly be-
side her, reading to her as long as her own strength would

*'HE STAYETH HIS ROUGH WIND.*'

lys of Teb-
j-ight after-
of March,
er to her
T, into her
reater size
leerfulness
lely needed
source of
enings, as
|ze, or the
inter dusk,

ghten the
Itantly be-
Igth would

permit, and telling her every bit of news she could pick
up in which she thought Katie would be interested. Her
father, too, was much kinder than Katie had ever known
him. He was not nearly so often out at nights '* on busi-
ness" now, and would frequently spend the whole evening
in the room, reading aloud anything interesting from the
weekly paper, which came by mail from the nearest Jarge
city, or chatting with his wife in a quiet, kind way, aa
Katie scarcely remembered his ever doing before. And she
noticed, too, that her mamma's smile came oftener, her
brow looked much less anxious and careworn than it gene-
rally did, and, notwithstanding her confinement to the
sick-room, her health seemed better than it had been for a
long time. As for Martha, no domestic could have been
kinder or more assiduous. She would have interrupted her
work at any moment to be with Katie when her mother
was called away, and it was the chief pleasure of her life
to invent some new delicacy which might tempt the little
girl's feeble appetite.

But notwithstanding all that home love and tenderness
could do, it was a sad, dreary time for poor Katie, even
now, when the first acute suffering was over, and the sense
of discomfort was her chief physical ailment. The long
monotonous days, that seemed so like one another as they
passed slowly by, weighed heavily on a spirit naturally so
active and full of life, and which had not as yet much
resource within itself. As she lay through the tedious,
slow-moving hours of daylight, studying over and over
again the pattern of the paper on the walls, tracing out the

lights and shadows of the two or three familiar prints in

««//^ STAYETi: HIS ROUGH WIND

their black frames, or counting the cracks in the somewhat
dingy ceiling, she found herself going over and over again
the daily scenes of her ordinary life, — the recitations in
Miss Fleming's schoolroom, the tiresome conjugations, even
the dates which had been such a burden to her mind.
Then she would wonder how the contest for the prize was
going on, and whether Clara Winstanley still maintained
her position in advance of the rest. As for the prize itself,
it seemed something so far removed from her now, that she
wondered almost how it could ever have excited her so
keenly. Then she would go back in imagination to that
day when she was last out, — see the snowy village street,
the passing sleighs, the shouting boys, — and then with a
sharp pang would come up the image of poor Jet. Poor,
merry, frolicsome, little dog ! What a pleasure and amuse-
ment he would have been to her now in her enforced seclu-
sion ! And the tears would come yet, as she thought of
his active little figure, lying cold and rigid imder the snow
that lay piled so high on " the common." For Dr Elliott
had ended her suspense, perhaps even her lurking hope, by
telling her Jim's disclosure.

One sunshiny morning, when the familiar ring an-
nounced the doctor's arrival, Katie, as she lay listening
for his step, was surprised to hear the pattering of little
feet, and the silvery tones of a childish voice accompanying
it. In walked the doctor, leading a rosy, blue-eyed boy of
three years old, with flaxen curls and a face full of dimples,
carrying in one hand a little basket, the lid of which he was
trying to keep down with all the force of the other, in oppo-
eUion to some small resistance from within.

IN THE DAY OF THE EAST WIND:*

somewhat
iver again
tations in
ions, eviin
ler mind,
prize was
maintained
)rizc itself,
V, that she
ted her so
on to that
lage street,
len with a
let. Poor,
and amuse-
)rced seclu-
tiioiight of
sr the snow
Dr ElUott
ig hope, by

ring an-
y listening
g of little
ompanying
yed boy of
of dimples,
lich he was
ir, in oppo-

" There ! you didn't think I had such a pretty boy, did
you ? " said the doctor, triumphantly, as he lifted up the
little fellow and set him on the bed. Katie thought she
had never seen anything so bright and sunny, and her eyes
rested longingly on the little round face, — the blue eyes
almost closed by reason of a roguish smile which over-
spread it.

" Show Katie what you 've brought her," said his father.
The little fat hand was withdrawn from the lid of the
basket, and out jumped a pretty little Maltese kitten,
nearly as round as a ball, wdth a silky gray coat and
snowy breast.

" Him 's Willie's — him 's for 'oo ! " said the gleeful little
voice, as his eyes kept watching Katie's face to see the
effect of the important communication.

" And Willie has been waiting a whole fortnight, till the
little thing was old enough to leave its mother, that he
might bring it to the little girl who lost her dog," added
his papa, smiling. The kitten was duly admired and petted /
but the bright little face had a greater attraction for Katia
and at her earnest request AVillie was left, much to his own
satisfaction, to spend the morning with her and his kitten,
improving the time in showing off, as well as his imperfect
language would allow him, the perfections of his gift, and
in enjoying the good things which Mrs Johnstone pressed
upon him. When at last, rather reluctantly on his part, he
was taken away, it was wdth the promise that he should
come back again. Katie and he soon became close friends,
and few things gave either of them greater pleasure than
to spend the day together; while *' Daisy "—for so the

**HE STAYETH HIS ROUGH WIND

kitten was called — became an almost equally great pet,
beguiling many an otherwise tedious hour with her merry
frolics, and calling forth occasionally Katie's hearty laugh,
which had now become an unwonted sound. Indeed, Daisy,
with her gentle, playful tricks, and her necktie of pink
ribbon, was fast filling up the blank which poor Jet's loss
had left.

Not a few kind hearts in the village had been touched
by Katie's misfortune. A good many who had been merely
casual acquaintances of Mrs Johnstone's, — for from her
shyness and desire to conceal the great trouble of her life,
she had scarcely any intimates, — had come to inquire for
Katie, and make many kind offers of assistance, which,
however, Mrs Johnstone had gratefully declined. Mrs
Winstanley had called the morning after the accident,
distressed at having been in any way the cause of it, and
anxious to do anything and everything in her power for the
invalid. But Mrs Johnstone could not get over the feeling
of bitterness which rose in her heart against the family,
unreasonable though she knew it to be, and she received
the kindly-intended offers very coldly, — the more so,
perhaps, from the patronising air with which they were
accompanied, an air which had become so habitual with
the lady who considered herseK the leader of society in
Lynford, that she could not perhaps have shaken it ofl^
However, she was really kind-hearted, and not discouraged
by the coldness with which her advances had been received ;
Bhe sent every day to inquire for Katie, generally accom-
panying the inquiries with some tempting delicacy, which,

after the first few days, Katie really enjoyed ; and hei

IN THE DAY OF THE EAST WIND!*

reat pet,
IX merry
by laugli,
id, Daisy,
of pink
Jet's loss

1 touched
ill merely
from ter
I her life,
iqiiire for
e, which,
led. Mrs
accident,
of it, and
v^er for the
le feeling
le family,
i received
more so,
hey were
;ual with
lociety in
en it ofl^
icouraged
eceived ;
y accom-
•, which,
and hei

mother's heart began to be softened towards Mrs Winstan-
ley, as any heart almost is sure to be by kindness steadfastly
persisted in.

Clara had called occasionally to ask personally for her
former rival ; but rather shy of the sight even of pain and
sickness, like most very young girls, she had not sought
to see her, and Mrs Johnstone did not suggest it. Indeed,
Katie herself was not very anxious for visitors just then,
and would certainly not have enjoyed seeing Clara nearly
as much as she did little Willie's visits.

Besides Willie, there were only two other visitors who were
taken to see Katie, or whom she cared to see, but these two
were always welcome. One was Mrs Duncan, an old Scotch
lady, who lived with her lame daughter in a neat little
cottage just across the road, which here, on the outskirts of
Lynford, could scarcely be called a street. Mrs Duncan,
with her kind motherly heart, had won her way into Mrs
Johnstone's confidence as no one else in Lynford had
done, and her gentle, cheerful face, encircled by a spot-
less widow's cap, had been a familiar object to Katie ever
since she could remember. She would often come over
now in the dusk, or the " gloaming," as she called it, stock-
ing in hand, and sit for an hour chatting pleasantly, as
she was well able to do, while Katie lay and watched the
fire-light gleaming on her white cap and collar, and mak-
ing the bright knitting-needles glitter as they moved so
quickly in her nimble fingers ; for Mrs Duncan, without
being of the bustling type, was never known to be idle, and
many a pair of little feet in Lynford would have been bare

and cold in the sharp winter weather but for the stockings

'I I

n . !

**//£ STAYETH HIS ROUGH IVIND

whicli she knitted or " footed " 80 diligently when her own

work was completed.

But the knitting never interfered with the talk, any

more than the talk impeded the knitting, and Mrs Duncan

had many an interesting story to tell of people she had met

or known in her somewhat eventful life : stories chiefly of

trouble and sorrow — since they, alas ! make up so much of

the woof of life everywhere — but of trouble bravely met,

and sorrow hallowed and turned into gain through the faith

which shall so surely overcome, even in this life, all things

evil. Sometimes, too, her recollections would take another

turn, and she would relate some of the wild legends which

still keep alive the love of the marvellous and veneration

of the supernatural in Scotland, —legends which, told by lips

that devoutly believed them, had thrilled her own youth, —

of brownie, and fairy, and ghostly visitant ; till Katie, half

awed and wholly fascinated, would fancy them real, and

could almost hear the roar of the surge, and see the

white foam of the hissing waves, as the water-kelpie

leaped up from them to pounce upon his prey. Then

again the theme would change to traditions scarcely

less thrilling, but far more dearly cherished, and tuned

to a nobler strain, — of the stem old Covenanting days,

when the struggle waged so fiercely between the powers

of this world and the power of truth, and the truth then,

as it always is, was great, and prevailed ; when not

all the terror of royal mandates and flashing swords and

deadly carbines, not the bitterness of death itself, could

force simple Scottish hearts to utter a word which they

believed false to their conscience and their God. Many

IN THE DAY OF THE EAST IVIND."

ler own

ilk, any
Duncan
had mst
chiefly of
mnch of
^'ely met,
the faith
xll things
;e anothei
ids which
veneration
)ld by lips
L youth, —
Latie, half
real, and
i see the
iter-kelpie
3y. Then
s scarcely
md tuned
ting days,
le powers
•uth then,
»vhen not
ords and
;elf, could
liich they
id. Many

Buch talcs still lingered among the old people in the
southern Scottish counties where llrs Duncan liad spent her
early married life ; and Katie never wearied of hearing them
over and over again, and would lie awake at night, thinking,
with admiring veneration, of girls scarcely older than her-
self who had sealed their faith with their blood. It must
have been a wonderfully strong feeling, Katie felt, that
faithful love of their Saviour which made them chooso
death rather than to grieve Him, — something very difl'er-
ent, she was sure, from the vague awe and faint gratitude
which was all she had ever felt for the Saviour, who,
she had been taught, had given His life for her. It was
a source of ever-increasing dissatisfaction to her that it
was so, and she wondered in vain how she could make it
different. She had to learn that no human touch, but the
finger of Divine love alone, can open the sealed fountains ot
love in the closed heart, and make them flow forth in the
channels they were intended to fill.

Katie's other visitor was Mr Grey, the pastor of the
Scotch Presbyterian Church in Lynford. Mr Johnstone
was a Scotchman by birth, and had always adhered, at
least in form, to the Church of his fathers ; and though his
English wife had a natural predilection for that in which
she had been brought up, she had always been glad that
her husband should join in the mode of worship most con-
genial to him. It was but rarely now, alas ! that he was
seen in his place in the " kirk," but his wife and daughter
went as regularly as the weather and the delicate health of
both would permit ; and Katie dearly loved the kind old
man, who was associated with her pleasantest and most

**IIE STAYETH HIS ROUGH WIND

•M\

eacrt'd memories, and whose silver hair and gentle voice
and manner were in her eyes the ideal of what a " minister "
ehould be. She was one of the most clierished lambs of his
flock, and he did not forf,'et her now. His visits, in which,
besides his kindly and sympathising talk, he would read in
solemn and impressive tones some suitable passage of Scrip-
ture, following it with a short prayer, seemed to throw a
solemnising influence over all the rest of the day. She did
not always quite comprehend the figurative Scripture
expressions he used, though they had been familiar to her
all her life ; but she thought themnover and over now, as
she had never done before, and by degrees their meaning
seemed, though vaguely, to unfold itself to her mind.

" Mamma," she suddenly asked one day, when she had
been absorbed in silent thought after one of Mr Grey'a
visits, " what do you think it means, * He stayeth his rough
wind in the day of the east wind ? ' "

Mrs Johnstone was silent for a minute, and then re-
plied, " I think I know, dear ; but you had bett(!r ask Mrs
Duncan ; she will be here very soon, and she will explain
it to you better than I can."

So when Mrs Duncan was come, and settled down to her
knitting as usual, Katie proposed her question.

" Well, my dear, I 'm no scholar to expound the Scripture

like Mr Grey ; but I 've proved the meaning o' that text

in my ain experience, if ever anybody did ; and that, I

think, is aye the best way o' learning. You see, you don't

know much, here in this inland place, about the east wind ;

but if you had been where I was brought up, on the east

coast o' Scotland, you 'd shiver when you felt its keen,

¥\ ,\ !l

/iV TirS DAY OF THE EAST WINDr

3 voice
nister"
(8 of Ilia

"wliich,

read in.
)f Scrip-
throw a

She did
kripture
XX to lier
r now, as

meaning

.nd.

1 she had
VIr Grey's
^ his rough

then re-
r ask Mrs
ill explain

)-wn to her

1 Scripture
that text

Ind that, I
you don't

[east wind ;

In the east
its keen,

piercing blast cominrj, cutting you through like a knife.
And if tliere was to come any more wind or storm on the
top o' that, it would seem past bearing. Well, it seems to
me, when God sends us some special great affliction that
pierces and desolates our hearts, lie often gives us a rest
from other troubles that may have been fretting us, lest, in
our weakness, we should sink down altogether, and think
maybe He wasna caring for us. And that 's the worst
thing any one can think about Him who cares so much,"
she added reverently.

" Tell Katie, please, how you learned that yourself," said
Mrs Johnstone.

" There 's no very much to tell," she replied. " It was
in days when I didna think so much about God's care and
dealings wi' us as I have sin'. "When first we left bonnie
Teviotdale, and came out here — I 'm afraid mair through
worldliness than anything else, for you see we were very
comfortable there, but Jamie had heard so much o' the
New World an' its gran' farms, that naething else would
do — we had for a long tune just one trouble after another.
I used to tell him it was a rebuke to us for grasping at so
much, though he meant no harm by it. One year the
crops failed, and we had a liaKl fight to win through ; an-
other, some o' our best stock died ; and another time there
was a fire in the woods, that came up and burned our bams
and fences, just sparing the house ; and then Mary's lame-
ness was a sore trial to us for long. But from the time
that my husband was laid down with the disease that took
him away two years after, it seemed as if every other
trouble was lifted off, as if there was peace and rest all

i • I'll'

"HE STAYETH HIS ROUGH WIND

round us, and we were left in quiet to meet the great
trouble that was coming, though we didua know it then.
But even when we did feel at last what it was the Lord
was sending us, it seemed as if He put a peace and strength
into our hearts that was wonderfu' — as I 've often wondered
at it since ; and when all was over, it was just the same.
So I 've had good cause to learn that * He stayeth His
rough wind in the day of the east wind,* and none that
trust in Him shall be desolate."

There was a little silence after Mrs Duncan had finished,
and Mrs Johnstone said, gently, " You told me that story
when my Hughie was drowiied ; I found it true then, and
I wanted Katie to hear it now."

" Ay, many a one has found it true, and more would if
they were to look for it. Mr Grey has told me he did
when his wife died — good, sweet creature that she was."

" I thought him looking thin and careworn to-day," said
Mrs Johnstone.

" I 've thought so often of late. But it 's scarcely to be
wondered at. He 's no so young as he was, and he has a
good deal to mind — more just now, when Helen's been
away so long. And he 's had a good deal of anxiety about
Mrs Leslie."

" He told us to-day he expected Helen home next week,
if her sister should then be well enough to spare her."

" Indeed, I 'm very glad to hear it, for his sake and for
the sake of seeing the lassie back. She 's got such a look o'
her mother now, and she 's such a comfort and help to him."

" I 'm very glad too," said Katie. " It seems such along
time since she went," — and Katie sighed a weary sigh.

IN THE X>AY OF THE EAST IVIND."

1 great
i tlien.
e Lord
,rength
ndered
s same,
til His
ae that

inished,
at story
ten, and

" Ah, poor lassie ! " said Mrs Duncan, compassionately,
**it must seem a long time to you lying there ; but keep
up your heart, my dear, and trust to Him who * stayeth
His rough wind in the day of the east wind.' "

Katie thought about it long before she fell asleep that
night, and came to the conclusion that it was true. She
recalled the numerous kindnesses which, since her acci-
dent, she had received — her father's unusual attention —
even little Daisy's arrival ; and thankfully felt that for
her too the rough wind had been stayed in the day of the
east wind.

svould if
he did
was."
ay," said

ely to be
he has a
ti's been
jty about

3xt week,
tier."

:e and for
li a look o'
p to him."
ich along
sigh.

I!!!:,*- I

liliil

J!'

iiii.

CHAPTER IV.

The cross Is heavy, child ; but there was One
Who bore a heavier for thee, — My Son I —
My Well-Beloved I For Him bear thine, and stand
With Him at last, and from thy Father's hand
Receive thy crown."

•ELEN GREY was the minister'a only un-
married daugliter. She was her father's
counsellor and helper, — his ^' right hand,"
often called her, both in the household and
in his congregation ; and was also the Winstanleys'
daily governess. It may be supposed, therefore, tliat
^ on her return home, the day before Good Friday,
MLU after a three months' stay with her invalid sister,
she found a considerable accumulation of work on
her hands. Nevertheless, on Good Friday, after the
)( early dinner at home, she set out to spend the after-
noon, according to her usual custom, in visiting
Bome of the poor and sick, who were her more
immediate care, and whom of course she had not
iioW seen for a long time. Among the latter, it is scarcely

GOOD FRIDAY

■i

•I

necessary to say, she meant to include lier old Sunday-
scholar, Katie Johnstone.

Tt was one of those lovely days which often come in the
end of March or the beginning of April, before the winter
has quite quitted its hold, and which, with the delicious
foretaste of the coming spring they bring, are often more
genial than many a day in ]\[ay. After having been pent
up for some time amidst the muddy streets and crowded
houses of a large town, in wet, cheerless March weather,
Helen enjoyed keenly tlie exquisite freshness of the air,
pervaded with a trace of the balminess of sj^ring, the
soft blue of the sky, the sparkling ripple of the little
river set free from its icy fetters, and the soft, clear sun-
sliine lying on tlie sloping fields, where a few remnants of
the winter's snow-drift still lay here and there in the shade.
Even the animals seemed to rejoice in tlie termination of
their winter's imprisonment ; and the boys were cele*
brating the season in their own way, with games of marbles
on every dry bit of side-walk. Yet, with all its sweetness,
there was a slight sense of sadness, such as often mingles
in the enjoyment of such, days ; and Helen was not with-
out some associations, painful as well as pleasant, which
subdued the brightness of her look, and made her step a
little less light, and her eye a little more thoughtful, than
they were two or three years before. She was not
strikingly pretty nor strikingly clever, but there was
a gentle grace in her manner, and a soft light in her dark
eyes, which made her winning, or, as Mrs Duncan would
have said, " winsome," even at -first fc^ight, and those who
knew her best loved her dearly.

33 0

GOOD FRIDAY.

One of these was her pupil Clara "Winstanley ; and as,
on her way to the village from " the manse," which lay at
the other end of it from Mr Johnstone's house, Helen passed
the turn in the road which led to Pine Grove, as Mr Win-
stanley's place was called, Clara came bounding up, out oi
breath to greet her " dear Miss Grey."

" I was so sorry I hadn't gone to church this morning
with the others, when they told me they had seen you.
I didn't know you were come."

" And I am sorry that you were not at church for other
reasons, Clara dear," said Helen, gravely, though kindly.

" Oh, well, I ought to have been, I know. But I felt
lazy and stupid. I 've been studying hard, you know, for
Miss Fleming's examinations."

" And are they over now ? And what about the prize
which you said you were determined to carry off to do me
honour ? " asked Helen, smiling.

Clara coloured, and looked a little uncomfortable. " That
is one thing I wanted to speak to you about. May I walk
with you as far as you are going, and tell you ? ''

" I am going to a good many places, but I shall be glad
to have your company as far as Mr Johnstone's. I am
going first to see poor Katie."

" Yes, poor Katie ! wasn't it dreadful ?" said Clara, a little
nervously. " Dr Elliott told laamma the other day that it
was very doubtful whether she would ever get quite well
and be — like other people."

" It is very sad," replied Helen ; " have you been to see
her often, Clara?"

" I 've been to ask fox her, but I was never invited to go

GOOD FRinAY.

jr ; and as,
aicli lay at
}len passed
8 Mr Win-
up, out ol

L8 morning
. seen you.

h for other
h kindly.
But I felt
1 know, for

Lt the prize
fF to do me

lie. "That
lay I walk

iill be glad
i's. I am

[ara, a little

|day that it

quite well

keen to see

'ited to go

to see her. I don't know that she wants to see me. We
weren't great friends ; and I — I know I vexed her the last
day she was at school. I've been uneasy about it ever
since, and tliat 's why I wanted to ask you about the prize.
You know, I 'm sure, that Katie would have got it if she
had not been hurt."

" Yes ; but it was in God's providence that she was laid
aside ; and though it may be a trial to her, yet, if you won
the prize fairly, I don't see why you should not enjoy it if
you deserved it. Has it been given yet ? "

" No ; it didn't come in time to be given before the Easter
holidays ; but Miss Fleming said I had got the most marks
by a good deah"

" Then what is it that makes you uneasy about it ? and
how did you vex Katie ? "

" Oh, that 's the thing ! Arthur says it isn't fair, and that
he wouldn't have taken advantage of one of his classmates
in that way. You see, the last time Katie was at school,
she Md almost enough marks to make her sure of the prize ;
and I know she would have had quite enough, if Miss
Fleming hadn't made a mistake in asking a question. She
answered right enough, but Miss Fleming thought it was
wrong, because it wasn't what she meant, and I saw she
had made a mistake, and gave the answer she wanted. And
Katie was so vexed that it put her out for the rest of the
lesson ; and I felt very sorry almost immediately after, and
have been sorry ever since. I told Arthur about it the
other day, and he says he wouldn't have a prize gained in
such a way, and that I ought to have shown Miss Fleming
the mistake, instead of taking advantage of it"

GOOD FRIDA Y.

|| I

I '

( I

II, i! ^

■Mi! I

" So you ought, my dear Clara ; and I am very glad
your conscience would not let you rest about it. I think
you helped to do Katie an injury, and you owe her some
reparation."

"Well, I'd do anything I could. I'm sure I don't "care
much about the prize now, at any rate. If it would be
any pleasure to her, I 'm sure she would be welcome to it."

"Tli-'f •■ 'An^ and generous too. And I'm sure you'll
be far happier for it. I tliink you should go to Miss Flem-
ing and tell her how you feel about it, and ask her to award
the prize to Katie instead of you. And then you could get
her to If '" ^ .""^ry it to Katie yourself. I am sure it
would please ' ^ ""y much ; and you could tell her how
Borry you haa bee a ^or wliat had happened."

"Yes, IM ''iT.e to cv ' L even if she didn't care to see
me. Thers'H juoi on- ' , ~ ' n sorry for, — I did want to
do you some credit, dear Miss Grey."

" Well, dear, I ^d far rather see you doing right, and re-
sisting temptation in a case like this, than taking any
number of prizes. But how will you like our quiet lessons
again, after tlie excitement of school ? "

*' Better than ever, I assure you. I mean to study so
hard now. But I don't know how Bessie and the little
one will like it ; they have been having such lots of play.
Now, good-by, and you '11 come to see us soon, won't you ? "

" Just as soon as I find time ; " and Helen kissed Clara

alTectiouately, as she bade her good-by. It was no small

pleasure to her that her pupil showed so much sense of

justice and honour in the affair of the prize, though it did

not occur to her — what was the fact— that it was in a great

GOOD FRIDA Y.

3ry glad

I think

lier some

lon't'care
would be
me to it."
ire you'll
[is3 Flem-
r to award
. could get
LTii sure it
LI her how-
care to see
lid want to

it, and re-
aking any
ict lessons

measure due to the high moral tone which pervaded her
o^v^l teaching, and to the strong loving influence she exer-
cised on her young scholars.

She was soon at Mr Johnstone's house, where Martha
greeted her with a " Welcome home, Miss Grey ; " and led
her directly up-stairs to the room where Katie, now
allowed to be moved from her bed, was lying on a sofa
near the window, which, in the full glow of the afternoon
sunshine, was a little open, to admit the fresh spring air.

" Oh, Miss Grey ! I am so glad ! '' exclaimed Katie,
eagerly, as she entered, a quick flush suflusing her pale
cheek, and the tears rising to her gray eyes. Helen kissed
her warmly, and then sat down beside her, still holding the
thin hand that clung to hers, and answered Mrs Johnstone's
inquiries about her journey, her sister's illness, and her
father, till the latter left the room to attend to some neces-
sary duties, glad of the opportunity of doing so while Katie
had so welcome a visitor.

" It seems such a long, long time since you went away,
Miss Grey," said Katie, wistfully, when her mother was
gone.

" My poor child ! " Helen said, tenderly, " it must have
seemed a long time to you, lying here. I thought of you
often, Katie dear ; and, though I could do nothing else, I
prayed that you might have strength given you to bear
what God had sent you."

The tears that came again to Katie's eyes were the only
reply for a little while ; then she said, with some effort,

" It seems harder to bear all the time. It didn't seem so
bad even while 1 had more pain ; but now that I just feel

GOOD FRIDAY.

I III

Ifiiv !

^If'iii

Mill ' I

weak, and am so tired of lying, and want so to be out such
fine days as this, I can't feel very patient, though I know
it's wrong."

" Well, dear, God knows how weak we are, and He is
very patient with us, even when we are inclined to murmur
against His will. Try only to feel it is in love, Katie, that
all this is sent."

" I know I should feel better and happier if X could love
Him," said Katie, in a low voice ; " but I can't make my-
self."

" No one can make themselves love God, or love Christ,
which is the same thing," said Helen. " It is He who must
give us the power. But one way of making it easier is to
think a good deal of His love for us, and how He showed
it — more especially of our Saviour's sufferings and death.
And if you were to read the various histories given in
the Gospels, and to try to realise it as a thing that actually
happened, I think that by and by you would feel a
little grateful love coming into your hearty Just as, when
you think most about your mamma's care and kindness,
you feel most love for her ; so, when you think most of
all that Jesus did and suffered for you, you will feel most
love for Him."

"I'm very sorry," said Katie, penitently. "I wasn't
thinking at all about that, but only of how fine the weathei
was, and how much I enjoyed the Easter holidays last year,
and I was longing to be out."

" And that brought on a fit of repining ? Well, it isn't
much wonder. Older people than you find it hard some-
times to keep from that."

GOOD FRIDA Y.

\ out such
;li 1 know

and He is
,0 murmur
S-atie, that

could love
, make my-

ove Christ,
e who must
easier is to
He showed
and death.
es given in
hat actually
luld feel a
.st as, when
4 kindness,
nk most of
feel most

"I wasn't
[the weathei
|ys last year,

^ell, it isn't
hard some-

.4 *

" And poor Jet, too ; I was thinking of him, and how he
can't enjoy the fine weather any more. It used to make
him so happy ! "

" Yes, I heard you had lost your little dog. That must
have seemed very hard too. But he sure there is some
good reason for it."

" I don't mind it so much now, except sometimes. Daisy,
here," said Katie, stroking the glossy fur of the kitten,
which had jumped np heside her, "is almost as great a pet,
though she doesn't know nearly so much. Mrs Duncan
Bays, * He stayeth his rough wind in the day of the east
wind,' and I tliink that has "been true, for some things."

" My dear Katie, that is something to have learned, at
any rate. Now, as you can't read long for yourself yet,
would you like me to read some of the chapters that are
most closely connected with the sufferings of Christ ? "

" Oh, yes, please," Katie eagerly replied ; and Helen read,
in the sweet, solemn, impressive voice which made sick
people always glad to have Miss Grey "read a chapter" to
them, those passages of Scripture which relate so simply,
yet so touchingly, the history of that Divine death, under-
gone to fulfil the work of a world's redemption. It seemed
to Katie as if she really had never taken in their full sense
before, and she listened with riveted attention to the end.
The story, so old, yet so new, seemed to fall on her wearied,
pining heart like the soft draught of spring air that she
had been so eagerly drinking in through the open window.
When Helen had closed her little Testament, she took
from her satchel another little book resembling it in size,
and opening, said —

iiiM, .

'»•.

GOOD FRIDA Y.

" Now, I am. going to give you somctliing else, wliicli I
always like to read."

And slie read over, very slowly and carefully, Keble'a
beautiful hymn for Good Friday, wliich has touched and
comforted so many suffering hearts. Thf last two verses
elie read over twice.

** Lord of my heart ! by Thy last cry,
Let not Thy blood on earth bo spent ;
Lo ! at thy feet I fainting lie,
Mine eyes upon Thy wounds are bent, —
Upon Thy streaming wounds my weary eyes
Wait like the parched earth on April skies.
"Wash me, and dry these bitter tears ;
Oh, let my heart no further roam ;
'Tis Thine, by vows, and hopes, and fears.
Long since — Oh, call Thy wanderer home !—
To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side,
"Where only broken hearts their sin and shame may hide."

There was a pause of some minutes after Helen con-
cluded. " I hope I have not tired you out with so much
reading ? " she said, as she rose to go. Katie looked up
then ; she had been ciying quietly, but they were refresh-
ing, not "bitter tears," and there was a soft brightness in
her smile, as she said —

" Oh, no ! you have rested me so much ! That is so
beautiful ; I understand so much better now."

"What?" asked Helen, gently, — "How are we to be
made to love Him ? We love Him because He first loved
us!"

Katie silently assented ; then said, " What book is that

you read the poetry out of ? "

GOOD FRIDA Y.

, Avliicli I

•, Keble'a
iclicd and
,wo verses

nay liide."

Helen con-
Ltli 80 mucli .

looked np
'ere refresli-
riglitness in

T3iat is so

le we to be
le first loved

book is tliat

"KeWe's 'Cliristian Year.'"

" Oh, is it ? " said Katie, surprised ; " then mamma has it
down-stairs, but I always thouglit it was one of those dry
poetry books I never cared for. Is it all like that ? "

"Very much," said Helen, smiling; "there are some
things in it almost more beautiful,"

" I '11 get mamma to bring it up, so that I may learn that
one by heart, and when you come back, will you find mo
something else you like ?"

" Willingly," said Helen. " I would not advise you to
read much of it at a time. You cannot understand it with-
out thinking well over it. Every time I read one of the
Iiymns over I find something I had not seen before. It ia
almost like the Bible for that."

"Will you come some afternoon soon, and bring your
work, and stay for tea ? " asked Katie, before saying
good-bye.

" Yes, dear, I will — the first day next week that I can.
Oil. Katie ! Clara Winstanley would like to see you some
day ; and she is sorry for something she thinks she did
wrong toward you the last day you were at school. But
I am sure you forgive her, if she did ?"

" Oh, yes ! it wasn't much at any rate. 1 was as bad as
she was, for I felt angry with her and cross. But I have
scarcely thought about it since 1 was hurt, and it seems
like a dream now that I ever cared so much about the
prize. I suppose she has got it ? "

" You would have liked to have got it, if you had been

at school, though ; wouldn't you ? "

"Oh, yes, I suppose I should. But perhaps it would

I I

GOOD FRIDAY,

have made me proud. And I couldn't bear any one to
get before me. I 'm sure that was wrong."

" Yes, dear ; since an apostle tells us * in honour to
prefer one another.' Now, good-bye; I'll see you soon

again,

And Helen took her departure, feeling that the restitu-
tion of the prize wouldj after all, be a greater pleasure to
Clara than to Katie.

I !

'(■■■'

■'A

CHAPTER V.

§1 3omt fission.

" Deal gently with the errin(? ones.

Thou who hast kept thy higher birth."

^\ JK\ /^ "N FTER her visit to Katie, and a few minutes

■\^U^sXI\iA^ spent with her old friend Mrs Duncan,

Helen went on to pay her visits of c uirity

to her poorer friends. Her last errand was to

see a lonely, weakly old woman, who lived in one

of the cluster of miserable houses amor which was

the wretched home of Jim Egan.

Old Nancy had many complaints to make to Miss
Grey : the house was fall of draughts ; the roof
leaked ; it was almost impossible for her, with her
J i. " little bit of wood," to keep it warm ; and " her
rheumatiz was awful sometimes." Helen sympa-
thised with her very kindly and patiently, and pro-
mised to look for a room in the village where she
might be more comfoi table, though poor Nancy's restless
and discontented nature would never let her be long
comfortable in any place. At last, when her stock of

A HOME MISSI0I7.

•III i

home complaints was exhausted, she began to think of her
neighbours.

" They say this never be a liealthy place, Miss IleleTi,"
she said ; "and no more I think it can be. There 's Mrs
Egan over there 's got two childer down sick with fever,
an' I think they be in a bad way. That Jim, to be sure,
'twouldn't be much loss to her if he was out of the way ;
for he 's no good — a regular plague of a boy, always a-teasin'
and a worryin' of my poor cat when he 's well, and doin'
no end of mischief."

"'* And is Jim sick now ? " asked Helen.

" Yes ; he 's been down sick near a week nov/, and never
a doctor have they got ; and one^of the little ones has taken
ill now ; and what with the drink an' want of work, I don't
believe they 've got food in the house to give them to eat."

" And does no one know of their condition — no one tliat
could help them, I mean ? "

" It 's my belief they don't know any one as can help
them. They 've never gone to church since I lived here ;
and no more they could in the rags they 've got. Some-
times two of the girls goes out with a basket ; but Jim, he
won't beg nor do nothin' useful."

** I must go and see them, Nancy ; they mustn't be left
in such misery," said Helen, rising to go.

" But you won't go in, Miss Helen, and them havin'
fever ; it 's Ji^e as not it 's catchin'."

" I don't think it will be likely to hurt me, if I am in
there only a few minutes. It is more likely that the
misery they live in causes it. At all events, I must see.
So, good-bye, Nancy. I won't forget to look out for you."

A HOME MISSION.

And she hastened away to avoid Nancy's usual formula
of profusely-uttered farewell blessings, but v/hich always
grated on Helen's ear as an unmeaning repetition of sacred
words, which yet, she believed, she could not veiy well
check.

On knocking at Mrs Egan's door, it was opened by a
wretched-looking woman, whose dirty and tattered gar-
ments told the same tale of laziness, if not dissipation,
as did the equally dirty house, in which every article of
scanty furnishing seemed to be out of its place. There was
scarcely any fire in the stove, though the evening was grow-
ing chilly, and no apparent preparation for an evening meal.
Two grimy children were fighting over a crust of bread,
and a miserable baby lay kicking on the floor. Mrs Egan
looked with some surprise at her unknown visitor, who
quickly explained the occasion of her visit.

" I heard you had two children ill, and I came in
to see if you were in need of anything I can procure for
you."

" Shure it 's most things we 're in nadc of indade," said
the woman, with an attempt at a laugh. " Will ye plase
to come in, though it 's but a poor place for the likes o'
you ; " and she made a vigorous though vain attempt to
wipe a chair for the stranger's accommodation.

Helen asked for the sick children, and was taken to the
door of a little place boarded roughly off from the rest of
the house, where, in a ^vretched bed, lay Jim and his little
sister. Both seemed too heavy with sickness even to look
up ; but she could see that the flush of fever was strong,
and'that they seemed very ill. There was no trace of any

-ofcwiiKitwus »i mm-'SmttSKiSOiiiSiiStiSSl

•!!!i

ffOME miss/on:

kind of sick-room comfort, and Helen presently said to the
mother —

" Have you asked no doctor to come ? You surely should
do so.*' "" .

"Och, where 's the use o* botherin' a docther to come
here, and never a hap'orth to pay him with ? I had the
fever once myself, and got well, wid never a docther to
come near me."

" Yes, but it isn't right to run risks ; and these children
need something done for them ; the doctor would tell you
what. I know one who would come, even if you can't pay
him, and I will ask him as I go home. Is your husband
here?"

" No, miss ; he 's been away in the country these tin days
lookin' for work, an' sorra a bit do I know what 's become
of him; an' the last bit o' wood I had I chopped up meself
last night. One o' the childer 's out now pickin' chips."

Helen made no promises for the present, but left the

house, thinking as she went how she could devise means to

supply needs which were so urgent. The woman was at

all events not a clamorous beggar, and it was plain that

the case was as bad as she had represented it. She went

first to see Dr Elliott, whom she found at home ; as soon

as she explained her errand, she found that his interest

was awakened at once. " That boy," said he, " has been

on my conscience the last two or three weeks. I found

that his badness, which has made him a nuisance in the

village, proceeded almost altogether from want of any

useful outlet for his energy ; and I have had him here

two or three times shovelling snow, and doing little 'odd

A HOME MISSION.

.d to t?ie

y slioiilcl

to come

had the

)cther to

: children

I tell you

can't pay

husband

jobs. I never saw a boy work better, and he looked aa
proud as a prince when I paid him for his services. I was
intending to try and find some regular occupation for him,
but I haven't seen him for two or three weeks, and I 've
been too busy to hunt him up. I '11 go and see him to-
night."

" They seem to be in great present need," said Helen,

*' Well, leave that to me ; you 've got enough on your
hands in that line. I '11 see that they don't starve ; and
I 've got a patient near there who just wants something to
do and take an interest in, so I '11 set her to making beef-
tea for them."

" Thank you, doctor ; it 's quite a weight off my mind,
I felt they mustn't be left in such distress, and I did not
know how it was to be managed, they need so many things.
But 1 don't mean you to have it all ; I want to help too ;
and you must loU me what will be of most use when you
have seen them."

When Helen went next to see the Egans, she found that
the doctor had been as good as his word, and that their
immediate necessities for food and fuel had been supplied.
The disease was pronounced to ' 3 a typhoid fever ; and Dr
Elliott cautioned Helen that she had better not remain
long at a time in the unhealthy atmosphere of the little
house. There was great need of nourishing diet for the
patients ; and Mrs Egan was, as might have been expected,
quite incapable in such matters, so that there was need for
all Helen or any one else could do in that respect. She
interested the Winstanleys in the case ; and Mrs Win-
stanley, who was usually liberal, placed at her disposal

1 1

A HOME MISSION.

a small sum of money for procuring necessaries, wliicli was
a great addition to her own slender resources ; for her
father's purse had generally as many calls upon it as he
could very well meet. Jim was completely passive — seem-
ingly overpowered by the prostration of the disease, and
gave far less trouble than he had ever done in his life ; but
the little sister, whose constitution was more fragile, re-
quired a great deal of nursing, and was much less likely,
the doctor said, " to pull through."

When Miss Fleming's school met after the Easter holi-
days, and the " prize " — two handsomely-bound volumes —
was discerned on the table, the general expectation of
course was, that it would be handed to Miss Clara Win-
stanley, who had come expressly to take farewell of Miss
Fleming's establishment, previous to recommencing hei
lessons at home with Miss Grey. To their surprise, how-
ever. Miss Fleming informed her pupils, that although,
as things had turned out, Clara Winstanley had un-
doubtedly won the prize, yet that young lady, with most
praiseworthy generosity, had wished to waive her claim in
favour of one who, she felt sure, would have deserved it
but for the sad accident which had befallen her ; and Miss
Fleming had no doubt her pupils would be pleased with the
decision, and that they hoped, as she did, that this testimony
to her merit and diligence would be some small comfort to
their little friend in her present afflictive circumstances.
The teacher spoke with a good deal of feeling, for Katie had
been one of her best and favourite scholars, and the school
had never looked quite the same since her place had been

vacant ; the girls, too, were a good deal affected, for Katie

A HOME MISSIOF

hicli was
; for her
it a3 he
e — seem-
ease, and
life ; but
•agile, re-
iss likely,

ister holi-
/^olumes —
elation of
;iara Win-
11 of Miss
ncing hei
irise, how-*
although,
had un-
with most
;r claim in
leserved it
and Miss
id with the
testimony
comfort to
umstances.
Katie had
the school
e had been
for Katie

had been liked by all, and all were sincerely sorry for the
misfortune which had laid her aside. Clara had never been
80 universally popular ; the girls declared among them-
selves that it was very good of her, and she was far more
tnily the heroine of the flay than if she had carried home
the prize for her own. She requested that she might be
the bearer of the book — a handsome copy of Mrs Hemans'
Poems — to Katie, a request willingly granted by Miss
Fleming ; and then she said a cordial good-bye to the girls,
amid freely-expressed protestations of regret at parting.
She began to feel that her sacrifice, upon which she had
been secretly pluming herself a little, was scarcely a sacrifice
after all, for popularity was a good deal dearer to Clara than
any number of volumes of poetry ; and when to that was
added the approval of conscience, there could be no doubt
that Clara had a very considerable reward.

So it was with a light heart and bounding step that
she set out to get her friend Miss Grey to accompany her
on her errand to Katie, for she was shy of going alone, feel-
ing a little awkwardness in the meeting.

" Look, isn 't it a lovely book ! " she exclaimed, eagerly
unfolding it, the moment she entered, fiuslied with her
rapid walk. " Don't you think Katie will be pleased ? "

Miss Grey did not feel quite sure whether Katie might
not consider it a " dry poetry book ;" however, she warmly
admired it, and then prepared to accompany the ardent
Clara,

" But what a basketful of things you are going to carry,
dear Miss Grey. Please let me carry some of them."

"And spoil the beautiful book, perhaps, if you

49 ^

'#»

A HOME MISSION.

Bhonld happen tO spill some of the soup," said Helen,
laughing.

" Soup ! " said Clara, " who for ? not for Katie ?"

" Oh, no ! for James Egan. I am going there, across the
common, afterwards."

" Oh, the sick boy you were telling mamma about ! Is
he getting better ? "

" Hardly yet ; but I hope he will soon be better."

" And don't you hate to go to such a miserable place, —
where they have fever, too ? " asked Clara, conscious that
such an act of heroism would be almost impossible to
her, or to Caroline either, who was almost as old as Miss
Grey.

" It isn't the pleasantest thing in the world, certainly,"
Helen replied, quietly ; " but it would be much less
pleasant to think that one was not doing what one ought.
* I was sick, and ye visited me not.' You know who says
that, Clara ? And it is the highest kind of happiness to do
Kis work, so far as we can, as I hope you will know some
day."

Clara was silent, till something occurred to direct the
conversation into another channel.

Katie was looking a good deal brighter now than when
Helen first saw her, and was trying, in her recumbent posi-
tion, to do a little light work. She greeted Clara very
frankly, much more so than she would have done three
months before ; but Clara was unusually quiet. The pale,
delicate look, and the traces of suffering visible in Katie's
face, subdued her, and made her manner even timid ; and
her inquiries w^hether Katie felt much better were almost

A HOME MISSION,

. Helen,

.cross tlie
out ! Is

! place, —
;iou3 that
ossible to
Id as Miss

certainly,"

much less

one ought.

who says

ness to do

ow some

direct the

than when
nt posi-
^lara very
lone three
The pale,
I in Katie's
Imid ; and
ere almost

constrained. She made no attempt to produce the im-
portant book, till Helen took it up, and said, smiling —

" Clara has got a pleasant surprise for you, Katie. What
do you think this is ? "

Katie took it with a puzzled look, which changed into
one of bewilderment as she took off the paper, looked at
the bright binding, and opened it at the fly-leaf, on which
was written her name and the inscription.

"I don't understand," she said, in amazement; "how
can it be for me ? "

" Because Clara thought you had the best right to it,
dear, and has given up her claim to you."

The colour flushed Katie's pale face. "Oh, but you
should not, Clara ! I never thought of getting it. It
couldn't be mine."

" Yes, it is," said Clara, quickly ; *^ it is yours, and no
one's else. Miss Fleming said so, and I would far rather
you had it."

Katie's eyes filled with tears, and she held out her thin
hand to Clara, who came up to her, and they kissed each
other affectionately. They were always friends after that.

Katie did not say much about the book, except, " How
good of you ! " and " What a beautiful book ! " but Clara
was quite satisfied.

" I '11 come and read out of it to you if you like," she
said, when leaving, though she rather hoped her offer
might not be accepted, for she was not fond of poetry or
of reading aloud.

" Thank you ; but I can read a good deal for myself

now. It will be very nice to have this to read out of.

A HOME MISSION.

But I shall be very glad to see you whenever vou can

I >

■4

come.

"And perhaps you would like to read some of my story-
books ? I will bring you some," said Clara, who thought
this a very satisfactory commutation of her first offer.

"Can't you stay this evening?" said Katie to Helen,
who remained a few minutes after Clara was gone.

** Not to-day ; for I have a sick family to go and see,
and papa is gone into the country, and will be cold and
tired when he gets home j so I must be back to give him
his tea early."

" And who are the sick family ? "

"The Egans. You remember that wild boy Jim?
Well, he is very ill indeed with a dangerous fever."

Katie at once became intensely interested— somewhat to
Helen's surprise — ^till she had explained how Jim had been
the cause of Jet's death, and, in some measure, of her own
accident — a circumstance which Helen had not known
before.

" But I don't think he meant any harm. He did it just
for teasing ; and Dr Elliott says he tl^inks he was sorry ;
and he told him he buried poor Jet. I always wanted to
know just where. You don't think Jim will die, do
you?"

" I hope not. Perhaps, if God spare him, he may grow
to be a better boy. You would like to help him to be one,
wouldn't you ? "

" Oh, yes," said Katie, earnestly, " if I could ; but I am

not good enough myself yet."

" No 0L.3 is good enough," replied Helen. " But most

!f^% "

A HOME MISSION".

people can help others a little, if they try ; and in doing
so, help themselves too. The more we do for other people,
the more we are doing for ourselves, in the best sense,
though that shouldn't be our reason for doing it."

" Oh, no," said Katie ; " the same reason as for loving
Christ, isn't it ? — * Because He first loved us.' "

" Yes, dear Katie," said Helen, surprised at the thought
which her answer showed ; and she took her departure,
musing over the difference which God in His providence
had made between the outward lot and prospects of the
healthy, joyous Clara, and the pale little sufferer whose
eick-room she had just left.

i !■

CHAPTER VI.

" I would not have the ruthless mind
That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do.

Some secret thing to know :

I would be treated like a child.

And guided where to go I "

tJESS what I have brought you to-day,"

said Helen, when she came to spend her

promised afternoon with Katie. She held

in one hand a well-stuffed satchel of work, and

in the other something lightly encased in white

paper.

Katie smiled, and held out her hand. The paper,
when unfolded, disclosed a rich cluster of wall-flower,
giving out an odour that seemed the very concen-
trated essence of spring.

" Oh, how delicious ! " exclaimed Katie, gazing

at the velvety gold and brown petals, and drinking

^ in the fragrance, so rich yet so delicate. It seemed

like an embodied revelation of the opening spring

to her, pent up in the confinement of one room, and unable

iHl

•%

AN EVENING TALK.

to go out and enjoy the sunshine of those early spring
da^s — "Which she so wistfully gazed at from her 'window —
as it lay on the still gray fields and woods, and glittered on
the winding river.

"I'm aftaid you have robbed yourself though, Miss
Grey," said Katie, presently.

" Oh, no ; there are some more beginning to open already ;
and you have so much more leisure for enjoying it than I
have, that it is much better bestowed on you."

" Yes, indeed," sighed Katie, " I am idle enough now.
I used to think, when I had to study so hard, how nice it
would be to have nothing to do all day but read and amuse
myself ; and now I am so tired of it — far more tired than I
used to be of work ! I wish I could do something useful."

" There are different kinds of usefulness in the world,
Katie ; and whatever is decreed for us by God must be
that kind of usefulness which He desires from us at the
time. Sometimes the work He asks of us is simply sub-
mission to His will, when it is painful to us. Do you
know, Milton says, in one of his finest sonnets, about that
very thing, * They also serve who also stand and wait.*
I suppose it was a cornfort to him to think that, in his
blindness, when he must have been prevented from doing
much that he would have liked to do."

" Yes ; but then he wrote ' Paradise Lost,' didn't he ?
Everybody can't do that.'*

" No ; and everybody isn't asked to do it, or anything
beyond their powers," replied Helen. " But there is one
kind of work everyone can do, at all times, unless under
very exceptional circumstances indeed."

-%;.^- ,*•

vlf/'

AN EVENING TALK.

« What is that?"

" 1 can best tell you in the words of a beautiful hymn I
learned while I was away ; " and there came a grave,
almost sad, expression over her face, which Katie had occa-
sionally noticed since her return, as something that had
not used to be there. She repeated the lines :—

" "Wherever in the world I am,

In whatsoe'er estate,
I have a fellowship with hearts

To keep and cultivate,
And a work of lowly love to do

For the Lord on whom I wait."

" How pretty that is ! " said Katie j " is that oat of * The
Christian Year ? ' "

" No J it is a poem of Miss Waring'a. I will copy out
the whole of it, and bring it to you. 1 j» is very beautiful,
and very true. But it is only through having God's love
in our hearts that we can put it in practice. And if wo
have that, He will always show us some work of ' lowly
love ' to do, and give us power to do it."

" Well, what are the circumstances when it couldn't be
done ? " said Katie, after thinking for some time, during
which Helen had taken out her work, and was stitching
away busily at some coarse plain sewing.

" Oh ! " said Helen, " I was only thinking of some such
circumstances as prisoners have been in — shut up in solitary
dungeons, not even seeing their gaolers, in the dark days of
cruelty that we read about. But I suppose that even there i.
certain fellowship with hearts could be kept up through
prayer. Our Saviour may have ways we don't know o^ of

AN EVENING TALK.

maintaining fellowship between Cliriatian hearts separated
by the most impassable earthly barriers." Again that pecu-
liar expression came to Helen's eyes — an absent, dreamy
look, as if her thoughts were wandering. Presently, how-
ever, it changed to a smile as she went on, — " But I have
read of desolate prisoners, when they had no human hearts
near to show love to, bestowing it upon the only living
creatures Within their reach, such as rats and spiders ! And
I should think that kindness to His dumb creatures is a
work of lowly love that God will not despise."

" I was reading in a volume of * Chambers's Miscellany,* "
said Katie, " about a man who got so much attached to a
little plant that grew up in his cell ; he gave it a strange
name, which I don't know how to pronounce."

" ' Picciola ; ' * poor little thing,' it means," satid Helen.
It is an Italian story, and a very pretty one. I read it long
ago. Well, I suppose it was better for him than having
nothing to love and care for. However, it is not likely
that either you or I will be in such circumstances."

" I wish I knew something I could do for any one, then,"
said Katie.

" You do something for your mamma by bearing your
confinement patiently. Don't you think it would give
her a great deal of pain if she saw you fretting and re-
pining ? "

"V, yes ; but that is so little. How bad I would be if

^a , er any more trouble than I could help ! "

"V* ^il, if you are able to sew a little now," said Helen,
" you might help me to make up some things for the Egans.
They are greatl" in need of getting their clothes washed,

IPp*

AN EVENING TALK.

and cannot have this done till they are provided with
changes."

" Oh, yes," said Katie, eagerly ; " do let me help you. Is
that what you are doing now ? "

"Yes," said Helen; "I bt ged cotton at some of the
shops, and Mrs Duncan is going to help me to maV': it up.
She gave me several pairs of socl \ which she had footed
for them ; the children who are going ab6ut have scarcely
had any all winter."

" Oh, poor things ! and Jim — had he any ? "

** I shouldn't think so ; most likely not His boots were
full of holes, and no doubt that was one of the things that
brought on the fever. Mrs Winstanley has promised a pair
of Arthur's boots for him when he gets well dgain, and I
hope we shall be able to make him decent enough to go to
school, if he can be persuaded to stay there. He has never
been at school."

" I don't suppose he can read, then. It is no wonder he
is a bad boy, when he has never been taught anything.
Now, give me some work ; you '11 see how nicely I will
do it"

" I will give it to you on one condition, that you Only do
a little at a time, and put it away the moment you begin to
feel tired. I don't know what your mamma will say to me
if I allow you to do more than is good for you."

" Oh ! it will do me good ; you will see that. And
mamma would help too ; wouldn't you, mamma ? " she
asked, as her mother, who had been out for a walk, came
into the room. •

Katie had previDUdly mentioned to her manuna what

1 1 lii!

AN EVENING TALK.

Helen had told her of the Egans' circmnstances. Mrs
Johnstone, gentle as she was, could not quite subdue all
remains of the indignation she had felt against Jim for his
mischievous prank, which had caused so much suffering,
and it was not easy at once to change it into pity for the
distress of a family whom she had looked upon as belonging
to a worthless, incorrigible class. However, she knew the
feeKng to be a wrong one, and refrained from any expres-
sion of it, though it prevented her from cordially sym-
pathising with Katie's interest in them. Now, however,
when Miss Grey gave her fuller particulars, and mentioned
her fear that the little girl might not recover, she willingly
promised to help in the preparation of clothing.

" I have a few things myself," she said, with a sigh, " that
might be of use to some of the smaller boys. I should
have tried to find out some one to give them to before
now."

Katie knew her mother meant the clothes which had be-
longed to her dead little brother, and which had been locked
up for years, Mrs Johnstone disliking even to open the trunk
which contained them. So she made up her mind that she
would ask her mamma to let her and Miss Grey take them
out, and the little trunk would not any more be a source
of painful recollection.

When the April day was closing in, and the workers had
laid aside their sewing, Katie reminded Helen of her
promise to read her something more out of " The Christian
Year."

" I have learned that beautiful hymn of Keble's which
you read for me, and I have read a little more ; but 1 cannot

AN EVENING TALK.

Ill'

understand much of it when I read it for myself. I know
your reading it would make it a great deal plainer."

Mrs Johnstone seconded the request, adding, " The friend
who gave it to me used to read it to me before I was mar-
ried, and I have scarcely ever read more of it than the
passages she selected."

Helen chose the first poem, "The Morning Hymn,"
which she repeated almost entirely from memory, as they
gathered around the pleasant firelight.

" That used to be one of my favourites," Mrs Johnstone
remarked, when it was concluded. " I only wish it had
done me more good." She had a feeling, growing stronger
with time, that, depressing as her ill health and many
things in her life had been, she might, with God's strength-
ening help, have found more work to do— more

" Softening gleams of love and prayer
To da-wn on every cross and care.'*

Presently Martha came to say that tea was ready, and
"the master" was come in. Helenj to Katie's delight,
was to take tea with her up-stairs, and a comfortable little
table was set for them in front of Katie's sofa, which was
drawn up near the blazing fire, that threw a warm, cheer-
ful glow arorid the room.

" It seems almost worth while to be ill, to feel so com-
fortable antl cosy," said Katie, when they were left to en-
joy their tea by themselves. "Mamma and I have tea up
here together whenever papa is away, and I always enjoy
it BO much. When I get well I shall be quite sorry to leave
this room j I like it so well now,"

* ii

AN EVENING TALK.

Helen sighed ; she feared, from what Dr Elliott had said
to her about Katie, that her " getting well," which she
seemed to look for as a matter of course, was by no means
certain, and that a still heavier trial than this long tedious
imprisonment lay before her, even if she did recover.
However, she put away the thought for the present, and
amused Katie, while they took their tea, with descriptions
of some of the things she had seen, and the people she had
niet, in the city where she had been temporarily residing.
Then she took an easy -chair by the fire, saying she would
not work any more that evening.

<* Besides, Katie, I want to look at your beautiful prize.
I have never had time to examine it yet. Have you been
reading any of it H "

" Oh, yes, a good deal ; and there are such beautiful
things in it ! I never imagined I should like poetry so
much ; I thought it was always dry. But these poems are
not at all."

" I used to like Mrs Hemans' poetry very much when I
was about your age. And this seems a very pretty copy."

** And don't you like it now ? " said Katie, surprised.

<* I haven't read much of it for a good while. I daresay
X should enjoy it still ; but one's taste changes as one
grows oldey. It wouldn't do to read one author always,
you know."

<' Well, read me some of those you like best ; it is much
pleasanter to hear reading than to read for rayself, and
holding the book always tires me a little."

So Helen began to turn over the pages, — magic p^ges to
many a young reader, calling up wondrous visions of the

AN EVENING TALK.

illlll

ii.: h

iiill !

Bouthem lands of the orange and myrtle, and though
Bometimes a little unduly sentimental, are still pervaded
with a pure and elevated tone of feeling, that renders them
far more wholesome reading than much of the literature of
the present day ; and it almost renewed her own early days
as she read to Katie the poems she had so enthusiastically
admired in her childhood. By and by the conversation
drifted away to graver topics, and Katie suddenly ex-
claimed—

<'I did not quite understand part of that hymn you
repeated before tea, where it speaks about the * cloistered
cell/ Will you repeat it again ? "

Helen repeated the lines —

*' "We need not bid, for cloiatered cell,
Our neighbour and our work farewell,
Nor strive to wind ourself too high
For ^inful man beneath the sky."

** The daily round, the common task.
Will furnish all we ought to ask —
Koom to deny ourselves, a road
To bring us daily nearer God."

" Of course," she proceeded, " it is an allusion to the idea
that prevails, chiefly in the Roman Catholic Church, that
retiring from the world and human relationships, into con-
vents and monasteries, is more pleasing to God, and tends
more to personal holiness, than remaining in the paths of
ordinary life. And the idea ru'^ning through the verses is,
that as we are placed by God's providence in the circum-
etanccs best fitted for us in this imperfect state, there is no
reason why we should forsake the duties He has assigned

lere is no

AN EVENING TALK.

US, and the path in which we shall be sure to find the work
He intends lis for, and which, if done rightly, will bring us
nearest to Himself."

*^ They must be good people, though," said Katie, " to go
away and spend their lives so entirely in praying and
trying to please God."

*^ Yes, indeed," said Helen, warmly, " there is no doubt
many of them are. I only wish more of us Protestants were
as devoted. But don't you think, for instance, that a poor
girl who toils haid to help her family, and does her work
well and conscientiously, is pleasing God more than if she
were to go and live in a nunnery, and spend her time in
saying prayers and undergoing voluntary penances? An
old poet, George Herbert, whose works I hope you will by
and by enjoy, says something about that —

" A servant with this clause
Mak?8 drudgery divine,
"Who sweeps a yoom as for God's laws,
Makes that and the action fine."

" I never thought before of Qod's caring how a room was
swept," said Katie.

" Why not ? How can we tell what things are great and
what are small in God's sight ? The things we call great
may be infinitely small before Him, and things we despise
as little He may most care for. Do you remember how He
had a cake 'baken upon the coals' for Elijah, when he was
hungry and faint, and how He renewed the widow's supply
of meal, and kept her cruse of oil filled ? And how many
little things are recorded in the Bible, while great victories
and mighty deeds are passed lightly over ! "

. '■

,(, ,

iT!

I I

. i ; it I

AN- EVENING talk:

It was a new idea to Katie, as it is to many who have
the mistaken impression that " religion " is a thing apart
hy itself, chiefly for Sundays and morning and evening
devotions ; who do not see that every act of daily life may
be no less truly ** religious" than are the definite acts of
worship, which are also no less necessary and right in their
place, and that it is the principle or motive, not the out-
ward character, of the action, which makes it truly re-
ligious, or the reverse. And so they fail to recognise that
beautiful harmony of Christian character which comes to
light when the principle of doing everything " to the Lord
and not unto men " guides every action of the daily life.
When it does not, the faith professed, however genuine,
surely falls far short of its true end.

" We may see every day," added Helen, " how many
little things God does care for. It seems a little thing that
He should give an insignificant plant, like the wall-flower
til ere, its beauty and delicious fragrance, and yet I am
sure it has given you a great deal of pleasure. It must be
to minister pleasure, as well as to express His love of beauty,
that He gives us the flowers at all."

" Yes ; I never thought about that," said Katie. " But
it is strange that so many people — the monks and nuns,
I mean — should be so much mistaken,"

*' It is right to remember, however," continued Helen,
" that the system was more beneficial in the ages when it
began than it is now. In the dark ages, as they are called,
there was so much wickedness and turbulence, and evil of
all kinds, that many people felt the convents a place of
refuge, where they might lead unmolested the pure and

AN EVENING TALK,

rho have
ng apart

evening

life may
te acts of
X in their
; the ont-

truly re-
(ornise that

1 comes to

0 the Lord
5 daily life.
T genuine,

how man^

p thing that

waU-flowei

1 yet I am
It must he
e of heauty,

itie. "But
and nuns,

Led Helen,
Lges when it
are called,
and evil of
Is a place of
lie pure and

pious life which it was almost impossible for them to live
in the world. Then the cruel wars that raged made many
girls orphans, and sometimes a convent was the only place
where they could find a safe home, or a protection from
some fierce, cruel man whom they abhorred, and who wished
to marry them. The monks and nuns in those days, too,
used to spend their time in many works of great useful-
ness, such as copying the Bible when there was no printing,
and teaching the young, and nursing the sick, and pre-
paring medicines, when there were no schools, and no
hospitals, and very few doctors. Girls used to be sent
to stay for a time in convents, as the only place where
they could be educated and kept from many evil in-
fluences ; and no doubt many were brought up there
to be good and useful women. It is not right to con-
demn institutions which have sprung up in God's Church,
and among truly good people, without trying to find out
whether they did not at one time serve some worthy
purpose. It is only when people try to attach per-
manence and sacredness to things not divinely com-
manded, and meant only to serve a temporary end, that
they become injurious. So now, when tilings are so
changed, and there is not the same need for convents, nor
the same work for their inmates, the Roman Catholic
Church, by leading people to believe that it is acceptable
to God to forsake their natural duties for others of their
own imposing, and lead a so-called holy life in unnatural
circumstances, is guilty of perverting their consciences, and
doing many great injury. But how long I have been talk-
I must have tired you out."

ing!

AN EVENING TALK.

my]

** Oil, no ! " answered Katie, smiling ; " tliat does not tire
me at all ; and I like to have it to tliink of when I am
tired, and cannot read or work."

The evening had indeed passed so quickly, that both were
surprised when the clock struck nine, and Mr Grey, who
had had some sick people to visit in the neighbourhood,
called to take his daughter home. He came up to see Katie,
whom he had not visited for some time, and remarked,
with pleasure, that she was looking much brighter.

"Miss Grey has done me so much good," said Katie,
with a loving smile ; " I have spent such a pleasant evening
to-night."

"By the1)y, Helen," said her father, "Dr Elliott told
me to-night he thought the little girl Egan dying."

" Oh, poor little thing ! " exclaimed Katie. " Well, per-
haps it will be the best thing for her ! "

" If it is God's will, undoubtedly it must," said Mr Grey.
" Come, Helen, we must be going. Good-night, Katie. You
scarcely need me to come to see you, now that I have got
my curate here back again."

" Oh, yes ! please, don't think so, Mr Grey," said Katiei,
earnestly.

CHAPTER VII.

^ibbtn ©roubles.

" We see the end, the house of God,
But not the path to that abode ;
For God, in ways they have not known
Will lead His own."

n ELLIOf ;r'S fears proved well-groimded.
Little Nelly Egan sank under the wasting
influence of tlie fever, while Jim, with his
more robust and vigorous constitution, " pulled
through," as boys often do, and that under the most
unfavourable conditions of bad air and bad nursing,
when far more carefully-tended nurslings sink into
the grave. So true is it that the Lord alone is the
" Giver of Life," and that human skill and care,
however right and necessary it is to exercise them,
have their distinct limitations, beyond which they
can accomplish nothing. Mrs Egan was, as might
have been expected, veliemently clamorous in her
lamentation over her " blessed child," even to tho
extent of endangering Jim's recovery by the excitement ; but
in a very few days after the funeral she returned to all her

HIDDEN TROUBLES.

i I!

rough, careless, scolding ways. That she did not betake
herself to her usual consolation, " the drink," was only,
it is to he feared, hecau&c; she had not the means of in-
dulging in it. Her husband had returned, having earned
a little money in lumbering work, just in time to witness
the death of his child, which sobered and subdued him
much more than it did his wife : women, when they are
degraded, being generally more hardened than men. The
money he brought home this time was for once not spent
in the public-house, as it would have been in other cir-
cumstances, but laid out on necessaries for his family,
which he took care to purchase himself ; and he thank-
fully availed himself of an offer of employment which Dr
Elliott had procured for him, showing himself, for the
present at least, disposed to be steady and industrious.

Now that Jim's appetite had begun to assert itself again,
he enjoyed with visible relish the portion which Katie
willingly sent him of the delicacies which still came to her
from Pine Grove, and he seemed softeiied and grateful when
Helen informed him, as she took care to do, from whom
they came. She seized the opportunity to speak tu him of
Katie's earnest wish and her own, that, on his recovery, he
should turn over a new leaf, and go to school regularly,
instead of spending his time in idleness and mischief, until
he should learn enough to fit him for some useful occupa-
tion. The kindness shown to him, so different from any-
thing he had ever known in his life before, had made him
wonderfully tractable, and he gave a sort of gruff promise
that he would do as they wished him.

The preparation of the clothing had in the meantime j

HIDDEN TROUBLES.

)t l^etalve

N'OA Oilly,

ma of in-

ng earned

to -witnesa

Ddued him

n tbey are

lien. The
not spent

L other cir-

his family,

L he thank-

Lt which Dr

iclf, for the

istrious.

itself again,

vrhich Katie
came to her
•ateful when
from whom
ik to him of
iiecovery, he
»1 regularly,
iischief, until
ieful occupa-
Lt from any-
Id made him
ruff promise ]

Le meantiiiie]

been steadily progressing, Mrs Duncan and Helen having
spent two or three afternoons in Katie's room, cutting out
and contriving how to make the most of their materials, and
afterwards sewing them up, with the assistance of Mrs John-
stone and Katie. Clara Winstanley's interest had also been
awakened by Helen, and she undertook to make a frock for
one of the little girls, and succeeded pretty well, too, con-
sidering her aversion to " plain sewing." As soon as Jim
was sufficiently recovered, and all danger of infection
seemed at an end, the four who were old enough were to
go to school in a body, under Jim's leadership.

Katie had, in the meantime, been gradually regaining
strength, though the varying weather of the slowly ad-
vancing spring, interrupted by many a cold ajid bleak, and
many a raw and gusty day, was very trying to her health
and spirits. Still, she had many (juiet pleasures, which
she was always ready to make the best of : Helen's visits
and cheerful presence ; Clara "Winstanley's lively chat,
as she came, bringing her most interesting books, and
above all, now that the first shyness between them had
passed away, her bright, animated face and merry laugh,
which always had an enlivening effect on Katie's impres-
sionable nature ; Mrs Duncan's wise, kindly conversations,
and little Willie's occasional frolicsome inroads ; — all these
served to prevent her from feeling the tedium of her
confinement, as she might otherwise have done. Mrs
Winstanley, who had been away on a visit, brought home
with her from the city she had been staying in a pretty
little bedroom tea-service for Katie, which our invalid waa
particularly fond of displaying when Helen, and occasion-

HIDDEN TROUBLES.

ally Clara, came to take tea with her ; and a beautifully-
illustrated volume of poetical selections, which Arthur,
Clara's brother, sent her, was a source of especial pleasure.
But most precious of all, in their soothing and elevating
influence, were the graver seasons of intercourse with Helen,
when the latter read with her some suggestive passage of
Scripture, and the conversation turned upon those subjects
which were now most deeply interesting to her, as they had
long been to her instructress, though Katie, anxious as she
was to be indeed a follower of Christ, was often oppressed
by a feeling of the uncertainty of her interest in Him, and a
foreboding that some vague and mysterious change must
yet take place in her before she could be what is called a
Christian. It is perhaps because the way is so simple that
" a wayfaring man shall not err therein," that so many
wander so long in perplexity, "seeking for some great
thing to do " before they may find Christ, instead of going
straight to Him, and asking Him to make them His.

One afternoon towards the end of April, after a day of
alternating showers and sunshine, when the sun was set-
ting gloriously behind great banks of amber and purple
clouds, Helen came into Katie's room, and found her gaz-
ing at the sunset, and listening the while with a rather
languid interest to Mrs Duncan's conversation with her
mother. Helen herself walked with a weary step, very
unlike her usual light elastic one, and as she sank down
apparently tired out with the exertion, Katie noticed that ,
Bhe was pale and fagged, and that her usually bright
expression was exchanged for a depressed and sorrowful]

look,

i 1

HIDDEN TROUBLES.

eautifully-
;h Artllur,
il pleasure.
1 elevating
vith Helen,
1 passage of
ose subjects
as they liad
xious as she
in oppressed
L Him, and a
ihange must
at is called a
) simple that
[lat so many
' some great
;ead of going
;m His.
ifter a day oi
sun was set-
and purple
ind her gaz-
ith a rather '
.on "with her
•y step, very
,e sank down
noticed that ]
iually bright
Lnd Borrowful

"Arc you ill, Miss Grey?" said Katie; "you look bo
dejected."

" Do I ?" said Helen. " No ; I am quite well, but tired,
and out of sorts, I suppose. Somehow this sprhig weather
seems to wear one out, and so little tires one."

Katie was not satisfied ; and Mrs Duncan, whose quick
eye had noticed Helen's depressed air, asked, a little
anxiously — " Is your father quite well, my dear ? "

" Quite," said Helen. " He has been regretting that the
wet weather has kept him from beginning his gardening."

" And have you heard from your sister lately ? "

" Yes ; we heard yesterday. She was almost well, and
going out every day." But though she tried to speak cheer-
fuU}?, it was manifestly an effort, and the sentence ended
vith a slight sigh.

Mrs Duncan asked no more, and Helen seemed glad to
rest for a while without speaking. After a little time, she
exclaimed — **0 Mrs Duncan! is it not disheartening?
That man Egan has been drinking again ; and if he goes
on, he will lose the job Dr Elliott got for him; and the
neighbours say Mrs Egan was lying quite helplessly in-
toxicated the night before last."

** Probably that is what set him off," said Mrs Duncan.

" But isn't it discouraging, after all we have been trying
to do for them ?" continued Helen.

Mrs Duncan smiled. " My dear lassie," she said, " when

you are as old as I am, you will know that old ways are

not to be cast off as easily as old clothes, and that wa

have many a disappointment to bear before we can see

much good from our work among people like the

HIDDEN TROUBLES.

I.'

^'1.

'.it;
1 ; i I I

''' ■ I '

Egans. But you know we are not to be 'weary in well-
doing.' "

" No ; but discouragements are often harder to bear at
one time than at another ; and I had such good hopes, of
the man especially."

" Well, keer up good hopes yet. Hope 's a grand thing ;
and patience — * in patience possess ye your souls.' "

Helen was silent for a little, her eye fixed pensively on
the sun setting so grandly in glowing hues, after a day
of storm and rain. Presently she said, in a low, thought-
ful tone — " But isn't it hard to be quite patient when
things seem to us full of unmitigated sadness and evil, and
when we .'-annot see any of the good there is in them ? "

" Ay," said Mrs Duncan, " hard indeed, if we are trj-^ing

to walk by sight, but no' that hard if we are holding fast,

\-j our faith, to Him who knows and orders all things, and

sees what we do not. There 's a verse I saw in a book the

other day that has a great deal of comfort in it, if we could

but believe it — and why should we not ? I think I can

repeat it to you now, for it 's easy to remember : —

" With patience, then, the course of duty run :
God never does, nor suffers to he done,
But that which thou woulJst wish, if thou couldst see
The end of all events as well as He !"

Mind that, Helen, whatever the trouble may be ; and mind

it, Katie, my dear, no matter what may happen to you in

this changing life.''

" Yes," said Helen, half smiling, " I knows it 's true, and

ought to be very comforting, if one could always realise it.

But still, one can't help wishing, as we see now ; and then

we can't help grieving if our wishes are denied."

'i(

HIDDEN TROUBLES.

a well-
bear at
opes, of

L tiling ;

ively on
;r a day
Lhought-
nt -when
evil, and
em?"
re trjang
ling fast,
ingSj and
book tlio
we could
ak I can

1st see

and mind
0 you in

true, and
realise it.
and then

" No," said Mrs Duncan ; " I don't tliink it is possible to
help it : scarcely possible for the young at any rate. I 'm
old enough to be able to tell you that ahantle o' time that 's
spent in fretting is just worse than lost, since it neither
helps the thing, nor helps us to bear it. Grief we must
bear, and God means it to bring forth fruit ; but the feeling
that His ways are hard is another thing altogether, and can
do us nothing but harm, so long as we indulge it. But ifc
has taken a lifetime's experience of His love, and many a
sore weaning from eaythjy things, to bring me to this con-
viction ; and it is oiie of those things that our own expe-
rience must teach us, pot another's : though it may always
help people to hear the testimony of those who have tfisted
and seen that God is good, £),n(i that His wilj, whatever it
is, must be good also."

" Yes, indeed," said Helen, warmly ; " it ought to do so
at any rate ; and I know it is very faithless ever to doubt
that. It shows more than anything else ho\v much evil
we have to fight with in ourselves."

"Yes ; but when even Elijah, the prophet of the Lord,
had his timi? of faithlessr.ess, it is less wonder that we
weaker being? should have our misgivings. But * thanks be
to God, who giveth us the victory,' " added Mrs Duncan,
resuming again her suspended knitting.

Katie had been listening to the conversation with earnest
eyes, trying to fqllow its pieaning. It often recurred to
her mind afterwards, v/hen she had been led by circum-
stances to understand it better than she could do then.
When Helen, after a little more corversation, took her
Jeave, Mrs Johnstone remarked how pale and thin she was

HIDDEN TROUBLES,

looking. "Ay," said Mrs Dimcan, "she's a good las«5ie
and a Ixmnie ; but young things like her have many a fight
to go through before they can trust thenisel'a and all that
concerns them in the Lord's hand. We canna put old
heads on young shoulders, — and, indeed, what for should
we seek, si-.ce it is God's way to teach His own by the
discipline He sends them in life, and 7/is way must be
best.*

Katie did not quite understand the connexion between
Mrs Duncan's observation and her mother's, and she in-
wardly wondered what trouble Helen could have, whose
life seemed such a quietly happy and useful one. Slie had
not learned yet that even Christian usefulness does not
always shut out trouble, and that some troubles are all the
harder to bear tliat thoy are hidden ones, and " will not
bear speaking about.'* It was a truth her mother had felt,
however, for many weary years.

On her way home, Helen encountered James Egan, sen.,
and tried on him the effect of a very earnest, though gentle
remonstrance. He admitted the folly of risking his employ-
ment by relapsing into his old habits, and acknowledged
that it was " too bad altogether," after all that had been
done for his family. " But it's hard to l>ear," said he, " to
come home to a cold, dirty house, and squallin' children,
an' the wife lyin' like a baste on the flure. What 's a man
to do but go an* get a drop o' the crathur, to help him to
forget it ?"

Helen agreed that it was very hard, but suggested that
it was only making things worse to go and indulge in the
same excesses himself. ** Wouldn't it be better," she said,

■i! '

HIDDEN TROUBLES.

lassie
a fi^lit
11 that
ut old
should
hy thfi
lust he

letwccn
slie in-
, whose
She had
Iocs not
e all the
will not
[had felt,

;an, sen.,

l;h gentle

(>mploy-

)wle(lgcd

lad heen

he, "to
Ichildrcn,

'8 a man
Ip him to

Isted that
Ige in the
she said,

" to get one of your neighbours to come in, when you find
things like that, to make the house comfortable, and pre-
pare a warm meal for you and the children, who must
suffer very much at such times ?"

" An' have her ragin' and roarin' at me as soon as she
was sinsible, for bringin' in another woman ! "

" But you needn't let her know anything about it, and
the woman could go away 'icfore she came to herself,"
suggested Helen, somewhat puzzled between the exigencies
of the case and the feeling that she was advising deception
and underhand dealing.

" Yes," said the man, " barrin' the childer didn't let it
out. Anyhow, I 'm obliged to ye, and next time I '11 try
eon'? 'ling, if it was only for your sake, that 's been so good
to ii-i. y.\^ the childers, poor craturs."

'vv'iLii which promise he departed, and Helen went on
her way, gravely pondering the all bub hopeless case of a
family with such a mother, and earnestly wishing that
there were some kind of inebriate asylum to which such
unfortunate creatures — and there are numbers of them in
all our towns — could be sent, so as to give them a char'-a
of reformation, and their families an opportunity of getting
on, which they would be more likely to Jo, were they
removed from them.

Some ten days after that, before proceeding to her
morning duties at Pine Grove, Helen had tlie pleasure of
conducting Jim and hifj little brother and sisters, arrayed
in their new clothes, to school. It was an exriuisite spring
morning, the sunshine playing bright and warm around
them as they passed tlirough the village street, and Jim

HIDDEN TROUBLES.

;iii

cast many a wistful glance at the fields, and the mills, and
the river dashing away over its l)rown rocks. It was such
^. day as he would have delighted in for going to the woods
to cut " shinnies," or for wandering about the river and
paddUng iij the water ; and, young Arab as he was, he felt
as if he were surrendering his freedom, even though Helen
had considerately stipulated that he should be required to
come to school in the forenoons only. The afternoons, she
told him, he was to spend in gathering cliips for the fire at
home, g,nd in any other useful work he could get to do. It
was only an experiment, and she was far from sanguine of
its success.

After giving her morning lessons at Pine Grove, Helen
called in to tell Katie that the children had actually gone
to school, and also to give her a little bunch of delicious
sweet violets from a sunny spo\, in the Winstanleys' garden.
She found that Katie had taken a great step, having,
much tq her delight, been carried down-stairs, and laid on
a sofa on the verandah, on which she reclined, enjoying
intensely jthe warm balmy sunshine, and the feeling, now
almost strange to her, of " being in the open air." As the
liouse was at the extremity of the village, her eye ranged
over green fields stretching away to the distant woods,
dotted v/ith graceful elmd rising here and there with their
delicate tracery of branches against the bright sky, and
not far off, the river winding along, till it was lost
to her vision bet'^een high wooded banks. Ever^'thing
seemed fresh and delightful to Katie's eager senses, so that
the mere feeling of existence was in itself an enjoyment.
" This is worth all the stormy, dull days that are past ;

II I DD DEN TROUBLES.

, and

i^ooda
c and
le felt
Helen
red to
QS, she
fire at
lo. It
nine of

:, Helen

Lly gone

Leliciou3

' garden,
having,
laid on
mjoying

|ing, now
As the
ranged
it woods,
itb their
,Bky, and
Iwas lost
er^/tliing
;s, BO that
iyment.
are past ;

is it not, Helen?" She liad droj^ped, at Helen's d(''sife,
tlie more formal " Miss Grey."

Helen smiled assent, then, unahle to repress the thought
that struck her as Katie spoke, she said, " I suppose that,
or something like it, will he what we shall say when we
reach the Letter country, \lhere tlie brightness shall always
last, and storms and ' dark days ' shall never threaten us
any more. There is a verse I often think of when things
ai-e looking so beautiful herd —

* If God hath made this woild so fair,
Where sin and death ahound,
How beautiful beyond coniparo
Must Paradise bo fouud ! *

And yet there are many people who imagine it must make
one * gloomy ' to think or speak of anything beyond tliia
life."

" They must be people who are not sure they are Chris-
tians," said Katie, somewhat sadly. " It won't make them
happy to think heaven is so beautiful when they have no
hope of ever getting there themselves."

Helen felt the truth of Katie's remark, but said, " Yes,
Katie ; but when oirr Saviour liimself has opened the way
to heaven, no one who cares about it need remain in doubt
of going there. However, that is not so much the question
for us now, as whether we are seeking to follow Him
here."

Katie was silent. As regarded herself, she f(ilt that was
a question no one else could answer for her. Presently si le
ventured to ask Helen if she was better than she had been,

Il'

HIDDEN TROUBLES.

** For yon could not," she added, " be quite well when you
"woro here the other day with Mrs Duncan."

" Perhaps I was not," replied Helen ; " but it was more
my own faithlessness that was trouljlin;^ me than anything
else. Mrs Duncan did me good, and I think I am learning
a little more to trust God with all that concerns me. And
you must leam that too, Katie," she added.

" Oh, Helen ! to think I have forgotten all this time to tell
you !" exclaimed Katie ; " we expect Ned home to-morrow.
The session has closed, and he was to start to-day."

" How glad you will be to see him back ! I wonder if
he is much grown ? "

*' He says he is, and that he is going to be my horse, and
draw me all round," said Katie, laughing. " Mrs Duncan
is going to lend me Miss Duncan's chair that goes on wheels,
you know ! So if Ned is as strong as he says, he can. take
me a good way in it. Won't it be nice ? I shall be able
to come and see you then ! What a long time it seems
since I was in your house ! "

" I shall be very glad to see you there again, and Ned
too. I wonder if he has forgotten how I used to scold him
for taking biiu.^' nests ! "

"And Dr Elliott thinks," added Katie, "that if I get
plenty of fresh air, I shall be strong enough to walk about
a little before long ; and tlien I shall know better than I
have ever done the blessing of being able to do so."

" Yes, indeed," said Helen, " better than any of us do ;
that will be one compensation for being laid aside on a
Bick-bed." And tliereupon she bade Katie good-bye, and
turned homewards.

lili

en you

ls more
aything
[earning
e. And

ac to tell
-morrow.

ponder if

borse, and
:3 Duncan
on wheels,
e can. take
11 be aWe
,e it seems

L, and Ned
scold liiia

lat if I get

Iwalk about

ptter tlian 1

[so."

of US do ;
.side on a
l-bye, and

CHAPTER VIII.

gin ^rribal anb a ^tbs <^r«n&.

" Since service is the hig^hest lot,

And angels know no higher bliss,
Then witii wli.it jjood her cup is fraught,
Who was created but for this 1 "

S Lynford was some miles distant from the
nearest railway station, Mr Johnstone next
morning hired a " buggy," and drove over
to Ashby to meet his eon.

" But as I have business in Ashby," he said,
when starting, after an early breakfast, " Ned and
I shan't be home much before tea-time."

Mrs Johnstone's face clouded slightly at this
announcement ; she had learned to dread the trans-
action of " business," and the tavern-dinner, so
perilous, as she knew, to her husband. However,
knowing well his impatience of anything like fomi-
inne dictation, she said nothing, and contented
herself with a silent prayer that he might bo
kept from temptation, and especially from yielding to it
when his son was along with him.

I , •

Mil

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

The day eeemed to Katie a very long one. All tlie tifrte
elie was allowed to spend on the verandah, her eyes wotild
turn -wistfully to the Ashby road, which crossed the rivef at
Botne distance beyond the fields, although she knew it was
impossible that the travellers could be within sight. As
Boon as the wamith of the early afternoon was over, she
was moved back to the dining-room, where, as the evenings
were still chilly, a fire was lighted. The tea-table was
furnished as temj)tingly as Marthal's freshly-baked buns
and biscuits could make it, and the room, with its old
worn furniture, dull and dingy as at other times it looked,
was lit up for the present with a really cheering and com-
forting brightness.

At last, after Katie, in her despair of being able to fix hei
attention, had taken up and laid aside one book after another,
and her mother, no less restless, though she tried to conceal
it, had gone a dozen times to the window, the sound of
wheels was heard approaching ; and as the buggy stopped
at the gate, a tall boy of sixteen or seventeen sprang out
and met his mother's eager embrace at the already opened
door. Then he rushed on to greet Katio, almost throwing
down Martha in his -v^ay, and responding to her cordial
salutation, with a hearty " All right, Martha ! "

" Why, Katie, you do look pulled down," he said, after
affectionately kissing her. " Do you mean to say you 've
got to lie there all the time, poor girl 1 Jet — Oh ! I forgot
the poor beast was dead : it seemed as if he ought to be
here to meet me. But what 's this ? a pussy ! so you Ve
gone in for cats, Katie, since you 've lost your dog. Aren't j

you afraid of being an old maid ? But this is a pretty re-|

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

he tiltte
.g -vvotilcl
, xivet at
5W it waa

Lgllt. A3

over, she
I evenings
■taUe was
aked l3vina
itli its old
,3 it loolied,
rr and com-

bletofixliet
if ter another^
•d to conceal
the sound of
Lgy Stopped
[n sprang out
:eady opened
,ost throwing
^er cordial

I '»

he said, after
\o say you've

_0h 1 I fo^S^*
ought to he
ly! so you've

Irdog. A^e^'*
lis a pretty le-

ppcctahle specimen : where did you pick it up ? " And ha
pi Iced up the cat, with a view to a closer inspection, hut
so roughly as to call forth a sliglit cry from Daisy, un-
accustomed to rude handling, and a gentle remonstrance
from Katie, who was smiling, notwithstanding, at her
vivacious brother's torrent of questions, and the unwonted
commotion he was making in the usually quiet house.

" Come, Martha," he continued, " make haste, do, and
bring in tea : if you had been out all day in the open air,
and got very little dinner, too, yon 'd know what it was to
feel hungry. Well, mother," he continued, " do you think
I 've grown any since you sav/ me last ? You have to look
up to me now. Look, Katio ! her liead doesn't come higher
than my shoulder ! Here, will you accept my arm to
supper ? You see I 've been learning manners in the
city ! "

* I hope they have all been good ones, then, Ned," said
his mother. " But I don't think it is very good manners to
want to begin tea without waiting for papa."

" Oh ! he said not to wait — it would be some time before
he could get in, and he wasn't hungry, and didn't want
anything but a cup of tea. He had a headache," said Ned,
with a slightly conscious air, which at once awakened his
mother's fears that he knew what it is sad any son should
have to know of his father. But if it were as she feared,
t was better he should not come in till tea was over, and

atie, at least, gone to her room.

So they sat down, .not the complete family circle she had

loped for, though, for Ned's sake, she tried to throw off the

epresslon her fears creatccl, and to niajie the home-coming

8i V

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

i!"' I

of her l)oy as pleasant as possible. And, indeed, it would
not have been easy to resist his flow of spirits, and listen
uninterested to the amusing stories he told them about his
journey, and his fellow-students, and his landlady in his
town-lodgings. His mother often wondered how it was
that Ned could never go anywhere without meeting with
some ridiculous adventures ; but the truth was, that he
had a strong propensity for seeing the ludicrous side of
things. He waited upon Katie very considerately ; and
when, from her brightened colour and excited look, it was
thought that she had been up ratlier too long, he carried
her to her room, under his mother's superintendence, as
carefully and gently as Martha could have done. After she
was gone, and as his mother lingered down-stairs talking
over the many things they had to speak about after so long
a separation, Ned suddenly exclaimed — " How very ill poor
Katie is looking ! I thought she would have been stronger.
It must have been a terrible accident."

" She is a good deal stronger than she was some time ago,
and I hope will continue to improve steadily. The doctor
Bays her great delicacy of constitution predisposes her to
the disease of the spine which he fears this has brought
upon her."

" Disease of the spine !" said Ned, alarmed. " You don't
mean that anything is seriously wrong with it ? "

"The doctor fears slight curvature," said his mother,
Badly ; " but hopes it may wear off as she grows. Don't
say a word to suggest it to her. There is no use in alarm-
ing her at present"

" No, of course not ; but, mother, those "Winstanleys

A.V ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

would
1 listen
out hia

in hia
' it was
ng with
that he
1 side of
jly ; and
Ic, it was
e carried
dence, as
After she
[•3 talking
er so long
ry ill poor

stronger.

time ago,
?he doctor
Ises her to
[s brought

'ou don't

Is mother,

rs. Don't
I in alarm-

Instanleys

deserve to be prosecuted. I 'm sure there must have been
some gross carelessness. They think they can do anything
they like, — with their big turn-out and fiery horses ! I 'd
just like to give them a lesson ! "

" Hush, hush ! Ned, dear. I had a feeling against them
too, at first ; but I know it was unreasonable. It was a
thing that might have happened with any one. Horses
are always difficult to manage when the air is keen and
frosty ; and Mrs Winstanley was exceedingly distressed
about it, — no one could have been more so, or been kinder
than she and all the family have shown themselves. And
Katie likes Clara very much ; it would vex her extremely
to hear you speak unkindly of them."

" Well, I won't speak, then," muttered Ned ; " but I
can't help thinking."

" Nay, my boy," said his mother, gravely ; " it is both
foolish and unchristian to cherish a grudge, and an un-
reasonable one too. Arthur and you were good friends
always at school, and you must greet him frankly when you
meet him. Now, good-night, Ned, and remember you can
only be a comfort to Katie by treating her friends in a
kind and gentlemanly way."

Ned went off to bed, only half-convinced ; but he was a
boy who never did cherish malice long ; so when he met
Arthur next day in the street, he shook hands with him
cordially, and reciprocated Arthur's warm welcome.

Mr Johnstone did not come in till pretty late, having
had, as he said, to " see some people on business." He
swallowed the cup of tea his wife had kept for him, and
went to bed at once, scarcely speaking, except to say how

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[

•!i

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEIV FRIEND.

tired he was, and that she should not have waited for hira.
He was in a dead sleep almost immediately, but his wife
lay awalie for hours thinking and praying.

The next two or three days were wet, so that Ned had to
content himself with remaining in the house, — a thing
rather trying to a boy of his disposition, especially when
left without definite employment. His mother suggested
that he should begin a course of regular study, to prepare
him the better for next winter's session, but he protested
he must have some holidays first, and that it was too bad
to expect a fellow to begin grinding away again as soon as
he got home. So he made some faint attempts at reading
to his mother and Katie, but he tired of one book after
another, and threw the last one down, declaring there was
nothing worth reading in one of them — " Nothing amusing
at any rate," he added ; " it 's all slow, and tiresome for
reading alou(l."

Katie wisely forbore to argue the question, though
she felt florry that their tastes did not agree better ; but she
was too full of the pleasure of having her brother home
to find much fault with bis capabilities for teasing,
which were displayed in pretended attempts to mutilate
her work, overturning her work-basket, and in a course
of experiments upon Daisy, to find out how far tbat much-
tried, young puss would permit him to carry his mis-
chievous tricks before palling her claws into requisition.
Daisy was a good-natured, gentle little thing, or Ned
would have got a good many scratches ; and at last
her very gentleness disarmed him, and he confessed it was
a shame " to bother her so."

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

'or him.
his wi^8

dhadto
-a thing
lly "wlien
suggested

,0 prepare
protested
3^ too bad
as soon as
at reading
book after
g there vraa
ng amusing
Liresome for

on, though
■er ; hut she
other home
for teasing,
to mutilate
in a course
that much-
:ry his mis-
requisition.

[ing, or Ned

and at last

ifessed it was

At length, all other resources having been exhausted,
in sheer despair, he betook himself to revising Euclid,
ashamed of being so idle when his mother was so busy-
overhauling his wardrobe, and repairing the winter's tear
and wear.

The first fine day, however, brought him more congenial
employment, and he proceeded to dig and trim the small
garden, — work which had always devolved on him, and
which he liked. He dug away diligently all morning,
but in the afternoon, as it was very warm and sunny,
and it was determined that Katie should have her
first excursion in Miss Duncan's chair, which had been
specially constructed for an invalid's comfort, he was
summoned in to assist on the occasion. Helen Grey came
in as Katie was getting ready, and willingly agreed to join
the party.

Katie chose a quiet country road, both from preference
and from an instinctive feeling that her brother would dis-
like the observation they would attract if they went through
the village. The road led across the common to the river,
and ended in a pretty wooded walk beside the broad, swift
stream, which had left the mills and dams and foaming
shallows far behind, and now flowed on in tranquillity.
Everything was full of enjoyment to Katie : the budding
trees, some of them so rich in balmy odours ; the song of
the birds, already so busy in nest-building ; the sparkling
flow of the water, and the delicate wild-flowers that were
springing up in the warm grass of the woodlands. Helen
found a few late hepaticas, so delicate in their odour, and
made a pretty bouquet of trilliums and wild- violets to carry

■W'

[ . I!

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEIV FRIEND.

home. Katie's pleasure was too great for words, and she
Bat very quiet, drinking in all the beauty around her, while
Helen talked with Ned, and tried to draw him out on the
subject of his winter's studies. It was a matter on which
he was not very communicative, and Helen rather feared,
from his evident distaste for it, that his application had not
been very intense, as was indeed the fact.

As they were returning homewards, Ned, whose observa-
tion was always quick, suddenly exclaimed —

** There 's a boy over there been standing staring at us
for the last five minutes. Is he any friend of yours,
Katie?"

They looked in the direction he indicated. They were
passing not far from the rear of the cottages where the
Egans lived, and Jim, leaning against a fence, was in-
tently watching their progress, shading his eyes from the
dazzle of the afternoon sun, in order to see better.

" It 's our friend Jim," said Helen, smiling.

" Oh ! let us go near enough to speak to him," said
Katie. '

" The ground is too rough for that/* said Helen ; " but
1 '11 go and bring him over."

"I'll go. Miss Grey," volunteered Ned, "if you will
have the goodness to inform me who the important youth
may be.'*

" He would probably run away from you," replied Helen
laughing, as she set off in the direction of Jim.

" Who is that boy ? " demanded Ned ; " and why do you
make such a fuss about him ? "

" He is a boy Helen and I take an interest in, and want

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

ind slie
tr, wbile
t on the
,n wliicb.
r feared,
L had not

! ohscrva-

ing at us
of yours,

rhey were
•where the
e, was in-
is from the
r.

him," said

2len; "hut

if you will
taut youth

^lied Helen

(why do you

In, and want

to get to school ; at least, she has taken a great deal of
trouble about him. His name is Jim Egan," said Katie,
timidly, anxious lest her brother should know the on<^ia
of her interest in him, and so come to look upon him with
eyes the reverse of friendly.

" Oh, that young rascal ! Well, I wish you joy of your
philanthropic efforts. He used to be a regular nuisance in
the village — he and his dog. Do you intend the dog to go
to school too 1 "

" I think he and it are both quieter now," said Katie,
though Snap was a sore subject to her still. " The poor
boy has been very ill with a fever, and hasn't been able to
go about long."

In a little, Jim approached the party, with Helen for
escort, and looked very sheepish, for him^ at meeting Katie,
who saluted him kindly : " Well, Jim, were you at school
to-day?"

" Yes, miss," said Jim, his eyes riveted on the wheels of
the chair, to him so novel as a means of locomotion.

" And how do you like it 1 "

Jim moved a little uneasily, shifted Ids gaze from one
wheel to another, and then said, awkwardly, ''It's awful
dull, miss, sitting there doin' nothink."

They could scarcely help smiling at Jim's cause of com-
plaint ; but in truth Jim, when left to himself, had always
some object of his own which he was intent on following,
though the said object might seem of doubtful utility to
other people. He was rarely absolutely " doing nothing"

" But don't you have lessons to say and to learn 1 " asked
Katie.

I I

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

" I say 'cm sometimes j I can't leam 'cm myself," replied
Jim.

" Well, but you must have patience," said Katie. " You
would like to leam to read, wouldn't you ? "

"I'd a deal rather leam to be a carpenter," he rijplied,
curtly. "Whereupon Helen tried to impress upon him that
learning to read was a necessary preliminary to success
in everything else, and that even carpenters would get on
very badly if they could not at th?, same time read and
write and count.

After they left him, Ned began to rail at them and their
hopeful pupil, and Helen said, seriously' —

" Do you know, I am really afraid he never will leam
to read at that school. He is in a class witli little children
of five or six, which he can't like, and I daresay the big
boys make a fool of him. Then he generally just reads
one lesson in the morning, and all the rest of the time he
has to sit still with nothing to do but look round him,
while he is supposed to be studying the alphabet, which
must be about as interesting to him as Chinese characters
would be to us. I only wonder he doesn't play truant
every fine day."

"Small blame to him if he did!" said Ned. "I'm
Bure I should ! "

Katie, who was silent for a time, as if quietly considering
something, presently said, " I wuiider if I couldn't teach
him to read ? I have so little to do, you know. And then
he wouldn't need to sit three hours in school for one lesson."

" I think," said Helen, " if you do not dislike the idea,
it is the very best thing that could be done ; I would do

M ^1 1 fill

-I- .

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

' replied

. "You

5 replied,
him that
0 success
lid get on
read and

L and their

will learn

le children

jay the big

just reads

,he time he

■ound him,

ihet, which

characters

day truant

led. "I'm

|considering

Idn't teach

And then

lone lesson."
ce the idea,

ll would do

it myself, if I had leisure. And you might teach the
others at the same time, till they could read a little.
It would only take about half-an-hour, or three-quarters,
every morning, — if you were strong enough for it."

" Oh ! yes, I am sure I should be ; it would do me good
to feel I was doing something useful. Mamma would let
me have them in the dining-room, I am surcj and on fine
days I could teach them in the verandah. Now, Ned,
you *re laughing at it, but don't, please, say anything to
put mamma against it."

Ned at first teased her a little about her prospects as a
" schoolma'am," but promised at last to use his influence
in favour of a scheme which he saw she had oo much at
heart ; and anything pleaded for both by Ned and Katie
was pretty certain to be granted by Mrs Johnstone. In
this case she hesitated, however, and consulted D.r Elliott ;
but, as he thought it could do Katie no harm, and that, on
the contrary, the interest she would leel in the work might
be good for her, it was settled that Jim should be
released from the confinement of school, and should come
with his brother and sisters to be taught by Katie for a
short time every morning* In the meantime, Helen and
Dr Elliott also resolved to look out for some congenial
mechanical work, to keep Jim out of mischief during the
day.

Next afternoon, as Ned was busily engaged in laying out
the hitherto rather neglected-looking flower-beds in front
of the house, while Katie, from her sofa on the verandah,
was superintending and suggesting, Arthur Winstanluy
walked up to the gate and entered.

r ■

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

Ned and he met frankly, and after talking a little, ho
came up to speak to Katie, whoiri he had not seen since
her accident, and whom he had scarcely known before,
except by sight, as the two families had been in the habit
of interchanging visits only at distant intervals. Arthur
had a special reason for being interested in Katie's
recovery now, which was not known to any one out of his
own family ; the fact being that, at the time wheii the
horses made that furious dash round the comer which was
80 disastrous for her, he was holding the reins for the
coaclmian, and not having strength sufficient to pull in
the powerful animals, he had thus been to some extent
instrumental in causing the accident His share in the
calamity was a source of bitter regret to him ; and it was
partly through his influence, and for his sake, that the
attention of the family had been so assiduous and un-
remitting.

Katie felt sr mewhat shy of him at first. He was a tall,
slight, delicate-looking lad, so much quieter in manner
and gentler in speech than her own brother, that he
seemed considerably older, though in reality rather his
junior ; and as Katie herself remarked to Helen after-
wards, he had quite the air of a grown-up gentleman.
His delicate constitution and love of study had isolated
him a good deal from boys of his own age, especially
since he had been, in consequence, too far advanced
for the Lynford Grammar School, on the one hand,
and considered not strong enough for college work,
on the other. Boya who did not like him called him

" a prig," — a name often unjustly applied, and to which

AN ARRIVAL AND A NLIV FRIEND.

tie, ho
1 since
before,
B habit
Arthur
Katie's
t of his
tieii the
lich was
for the
pull in
e extent
e in the
id it was
that the
and un-

his natural thoughtfulness, and rather precocious develop-
ment of mind and taste, as well as his want of equal com-
panionship, had exposed him. The weakness to which
he was most prone was that of indulging in poetic
dreaminess, to such an extent as to unfit him for the more
energetic business of life ; and perhaps the fact that Ned
and he were completely opposite in disposition and taste
had drawn them together in an intimacy which, if rightly
used, might yet be beneficial to both of them.

The two lads sat down on the verandah steps and began
a brisk discussion about college matters, in which Arthur
was intensely interested ; eagerly looking forward to the
time when he should be allowed to enter upon his uni-
versity course. He was, with comparatively little trouble
too, already far ahead of Ned in attaimaents ; but his
mother, knowing his ambition, was unwilling to trust him
away from her watchful eye, into the additional stimulus
and excitement of college life.

After Ned had answered nearly every question which it
occurred to Arthur to ask, and Mrs Johnstone, who came
out to bring Katie in, had invited " Mr Winstanley " to
remain to tea, they adjourned to the dining-room, and
Arthur, with his usual instinct for books, began to look
over Katie's little stock of literature.

" I daresay some of those are quite in your line," said
Ned, " but I found them awfully slow when I tried to read
them to Katie. If I could get something amusing, like
the "Water-Witch," with pirates in it, or anything of
that sort, I wouldn't mind reading aloud."

" Perhaps Miss Katie wouldn't care about the pirates

^^^1'^

iji

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEW FRIEND.

though," said Arthur, smiling ; " and it would be good
for you, old fellow, if you did like something higher. I
wonder Clara hasn't lent you * Feats on the Fiord,* Miss
Katie ; there are some pirates in that, and I don't think
Ned would find it slow. And the * Swiss Family Kobin-
8on,' that has a shipwreck, and lots of adventures in it
I '11 bring them over some day. Oh, this is your prize,
is it, Ned ? * Second prize in mathematics.* Well done I
You didn't tell me of that before. Aytoun's *Lays.*
Have you read any of them. Miss Katie ? '*

" No,'* said Katie. " I was just beginning * Edinburgh
after Flodden * this morning. It seems very pretty.'*

" Yes, indeed, I think it *s splendid ; and you *re Scotch,
—you ought to appreciate it more than I do.'*

" Would you mind reading it to us now ? '* asked Katie,
timidly.

Mrs Johnstone joined in the request, and Arthur, always
willing to oblige, began the spirited

*' News of battle, who hath brought it ?
News of battle ! who shoidd bring
Tidings of our noble army,
Greetings from our gallant king?"

He read with great animation, entering as he went along
thoroughly into the spirit of his subject ; and Katie listened
with intense enjoyment, for she had inherited her father's
love of his native country, and was proud to call herself a
Scotchwoman. When the reader's voice, thrilling with
excitement, paused slightly at the words —

*' No Scottish foot went backward
When the royal lion fell,"
92

Hi In

AN ARRIVAL AND A NEIV FRIEND.

be good
;her. 1
d,* MiBS
I't think
^ Bobin-
es in it*
ur prize,
ill done I
3 *LayB.*

IdinbuTgh

,ty."

re Scotch,

led Katie,

ur, always

rent along

tie listened

ler father's

herself a

ig with

she could not suppress the feeling that crimsoned her
cheek and filled her eyes with tears.

" Bravo ! " exclaimed Mr Johnstone, who had come
quietly in after the reading had begun ; " bravo ! I scarcely
think a Scotchman could have read it better ! "

" I think it would be paying a poor compliment to the
Scotch," rejoined Arthur, with a smile, "to suppose that
none but Scotchmen could appreciate their splendid
qualities as a nation."

"It isn't everybody that has the sense to see that
though," replied Mr Johnstone, not a little flattered and
considerably surprised by the remark. " Still, a man that
has lived a great part of his life in Auld Reekie, and been
brought up among all the associations of those old names,
can feel a tiling like that in a way other people couldn't
do. But, at any rate, you deserve a hearty vote of thanks
for giving us all so much pleasure. Doesn^ he, Katie ? "

She warmly assented, though she could not possibly
have expressed half the delight the poem had given her ;
and the party sat do^vn to tea. It was a long time since
Mrs Johnstone had seen her husband take part in conversa-
tion with such animation and geniality as on the present
occasion. His better nature had been awakened ; old
chords in his heart were touched ; and elevating associa-
tions stirred up, by the reading of the poem. So wonderful
is the power of song to move the moral nature for good aa
well as Qvil, and so great the responsibility of using it
aright!

' ti

CHAPTER IX.

^ i^isit.

" As the lark in the air and sunshine.
When the early mists are curl'd,
His spirit bathed and revcH'd
In the beauty of the world,"

BOM that evening onwards, Arthur was a
frequent as well as a welcome visitor at
Mr Johnstone's, and he never came without
bringing an addition to Katie's supply of books.
" Feats on the Fiord " and " The Swiss Family
Robinson " were sent to her by Clara the day after
his first visit ; but Katie, who dipped into them, and
would gladly have devoured them at once, showed
sufficient self-control to reserve them faithfully for
Ned to read to her in the evenings, which his mother
W was most anxious he should spend at home. The
*^ books proved sufficiently fascinating to interest even
him, and Katie, in her idle moments, was ever
dreaming, now of the scenery of the wonderful
tropical island with its sago palms and flamingoes, and
anon of the bold outlines and clear atmosphere of the

I*' ■ i ■

A VISIT.

hur was a
visitor at
ne without
|r of books.
iss Family
le day after
them, and
ice, showed
LthfuUy for
his mother
xome. The
iterest even
, was ever
wonderful
ingoes, and
ere of the

" Fiord," with its romantic islets and inlets, and the en-
chanted midsummer evenings, when the sun scarcely sank
beneath the horizon, but shone brightly all night over a
sleeping country, and only elves and demons were abroad,
holding, as was supposed, high carnival.

They excited and enchanted her so much, that she asked
Helen one day whether it was right to have her mind en-
grossed wita such fancies.

" I know some people would say it was not," replied
Helen, " and I suppose there is danger in it, which we
should pray and guard against ; but I don't tliink a vivid
description of the wonderful and beautiful things which
God has created, and of the life of our fellow-creatures in
other lands, or other days, can ever do us harm, if only we
are looking to Him as the Guide and Ruler of it all, and
trying to feel His presence in it, as in all things. I think
we are too apt to get into a sort of idea as if He were
only present in some places, and with some kinds of
people ; yet it is good for us to try to realise His presence
everywhere, and see in how many different ways He comes
into contact with human beings. And here," she added,
" we have so little grand or sublime scenery, that we really
need to have, at least, some vivid description of it. How
much of the Bible language, for instance, we can hardly
understand, unless we are able to form some idea of what
a mountain is, — or the sea, when the ' waters thereof roar
and are troubled.' "

" "Well, I 'm very glad you don't think it any harm, and
I fancy I do comprehend some things better already.
Before, I scarcely ever thought what a mountain really

I^^R<''<!

A VISIT.

was ; "but since I have read about Salitelma, I can better
understand why Christ went up into a mountain to pray,"
said Katie, reverently.

" Yes," replied Helen, " we may be sure He was in-
sensible to none of the influences proceeding from *the
wonderful works of God.' I think we lose something in
not realising more fully that He lived a real human life
in this very world, and was surrounded by the same
interests, and subject to the same pleasures and pains, as
we are. If we only carry Him with us into everything, all
things will be safe to us. And the thing, whatever that
may be, in the enjoyment of which we feel we are for-
getting Him, must be injurious to us. The difficulty
is, that some things are so insidious in their influence
that they sometimes lead us away from Him without our
perceiving it."

" But how is one to know, then ? " asked Katie, in a
perplexed tone.

"There is no rule but the one Christ gives us, —
* Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation/"
replied Helen.

Jim's lessons, in the meantime, were steadily going on.
He was somewhat shy and awkward at first, but he soon
began to feel at ease, and even to make real progress in
the hands of his anxious preceptress. The little ones,
however, got on faster than he did, being very much
attracted to their lessons by the picture primer which
Helen had procured for the use of Katie. The little boy
in particular, a strange refined-looking child, considering
his circumstances, with expansive forehead and spiritual-

\.\

-4 VISIT.

qmck at ^aatering the difficuS" of ^ j .T """"'^^
nowspelling words of three letter ,, ^^^'' ■»" '^'^
much interest and pleasure kV« ? , """" ''™'^'^'^"' h"*
t-k, and what impoZ'st t "" '" "^-''PP""'^'!

herrough.]ookingcl<r /' '^ '" '^' P'°°'^^°^
" d'd her, the attei;^- Jj^ Jj ""' ^» '^'^ evident good

father, who waa absenf w^n le ,:: 7 ™' ^""'^ "^ ''^
'';- one day, and seeing j^ tl:: r. ^"^"-"^"^
'^ked angrily what that youtr^"1 '^"''"""^' h«
tter«, and when he ieornedT "'"^ ""'"^ "''™'

emptorily prohibited hirret«™ ,T^ """"^ ''"^ P^^^
- ™ piead,-ng 'X S "^ ".^ru ^'^ h^'^"^

^ ^^ euppose yon ::z^:^:^z% "r^ -^^

Whereupon Katie kissed anrf ,». , '"'^•
cession, grateful that S hL I'r ! '^ '" *« --
between them, as she wa^ an 'Is . ""'""^^'^ ""^ -™«

of anything to prejudice hl™;;~ ';;^''^-'^^
"> the meantime, procured forT ^ '"• ^^ ^^''^'-^

of the milia, sui.;cL ^ W ht oTtT'"^"^'" '" "-
most of the day. ^ '™ °"' "^ mischief dming

carnage, Mr. Winstanley ca 271 " "" """"'^ "f a
"er a gentle drive, sl h d i T ''i"'"™"^ '» «'-
of pleasure-drives, and thl ""^ '""" «^P^"^»ce

delight, presenting'atTverJri '"" ,''" "-?--".«
b eveiy turn son,e fresh source of en-

i %

'saHMBH

A VISIT,

joyinent in the rich vivid green of the new foliage ; the
luxuriant pastures dotted with grazing cows and sheep ;
the winding river; and even the little gardens of the
village houses, so gay at that season with beds of tulips,
peonies, and "snowballs." She never returned from a
drive without being penetrated with a sense of quiet
pleasure, sufficient to last for days after ; and the " leafy
month of Jime " was ever after associated in her mind with
these delightful excursions in Mrs Winstanley's carriage.
She generally had the society of Clara and Arthur, as well
as Mrs Wip'^tanley herself, and sometimes her happiness
was enhanced by the presence of her mamma or Helen
Grey.

So rapid was her improvement under all the healthful
and happy influences around her, that it seemed practicable
for her to accept an invitation, given by Mrs Winstanley,
and warmly urged by Clara, to spend a day or two at
Pine Grove. She was now able to walk a very little,
and would not therefore be so dependent on those around
her; so her mother, in consideration of the pleasure it
would give her, overcame her own private scruples about
accepting " the obligation," and began to arrange a suitable
dress for her to wear during her visit. She had worn
nothing at home but the most simple print frocks, and she
had outgrown the only nice summer dress in her scanty
wardrobe, so that it required a good deal of altering before
Mrs Johnstone could consider it presentable at Pine Grove.
Even when she had done her best, however, Katie, who
was not usually hard to please in such matters, observed
that it did not seem to fit nicely ; but when she saw the

gc ; tlie
. sheep ;
I of the
•f tulips,
^ from a
of quiet

le "leafy
aindwitb
\ carriage,
iir, as well
happiiiesa
or Helen

e healtMul
practicable
"instanley,

A yisiT.

remark vexed her mother, and made her sigh sorrowfully,
she hastened to say that she was sure it would do very well.
Ned had been invited to take tea at Pine Grove on the
first evening of her visit, and early in the afternoon Clara
came b. the carriage to take her there. The drive was not a
long one : they had to pass through the village and across the
river, dashing and chafing among its mill-dams, and then
along a quiet piece of road, tiU they came to the gate leading
into the grove of fine old pines which almost surrounded
the house, and gave it its name. After winding for a short
distance among the pines, which had strewed the ground
with brown needles, slippery to walk on, and perfumed
the summer air with their fragrance, the carriage emerged
with its party into a pretty shrubbery immediately
in front of the house, rich with luxuriant foliage, bright
clusters of pink and red peoniesy Gueldres roses and lilacs,
and here and there an early rose-bush just bursting into
bloom. Lighted up with the rich afternoon sunshine, it
seemed to Katie almost a fairy-land for loveliness. She often
tried afterwards to see it exactly as it appeared to her at
first sight, that lovely June afternoon, but never could quite
succeed, for knowledge of the details of a scene very often
prevents us from realising the full beauty of the general
impression. On the wide shady verandah, which sur-
rounded the front and sides of the house, Caroline Win-
stanley, Clara's elder sister, a pretty, graceful girl, about
eighteen, reclined in a low chair, absorbed in a novel.
The arrival of the carriage aroused her, however, and she
advanced with a bright, pleasant smile to welcome Katie,
and conducted her to the low seat she had left, where she

A VISIT.

insisted on establishing her, to rest after the drive. Katie
■>vas at once won by her bright kindliness of manner, and
Bhe thought that if she were Clara she would almost worship
such a sister. When she was sufficiently rested, Clara led
her through the French windows into a cool drawing-room,
tastefully furnished, and fragrant with bouquets of lily of
the valley and other lovely flowers of the season, and
thence to a small room ol, the ground floor, which had
been prepared for her, where she assisted her to smooth
her hair and arrange her dress, and from which she con-
ducted her on a tour of inspection round so much of the
house as she could see without the fatigue of going up-
stairs.

When they returned to the verandah, Ned had arrived
and Arthur had joined the party. The latter now brought
out some of his books, to compare the work he was doing
under his tutor with what Ned nad been going through at
college, and Caroline returned to her novel, though she
looked up occasionally to address a remark to Katie, who
was very well contented to do nothing but sit still and enjoy
the lovely scene and the exquisite evening. Before Arthur
tad finished comparing notes, which was often interrupted
by Ned's college stories, however, and at which even
Caroline had to stop reading and laugh, Mrs Winstanley
came to call them in to the early tea, for everybody in
Lynford, even the Winstanleys, kept country meal -hours
Mr Winstanley, a shrewd, complacent-looking man, rather
advanced in life, was already in the pleasant dining-room,
■which looked out on the pine-trees, and presently the
younger children came in, flushed and eager, from a search

100

A VISIT.

Katie
.er, and
jyorsliip
Lara led
tg-room,
f lily of
son, and
licli liad
) smootli
she con-
ch of the
toing lip-
id arrived
,w brought
was doing
Lhrough at
ough she
atie, who
and enjoy
»re Arthur
Lterruptcd
hich even
instanley

krybody in
leal -hours
lan, rather
ing-room,
[sently the
a search

for wild strawberries in the fields. Katie was shown to
a seat next Mr Winstanley, who was always hospitably
tind in his own house — though he was called i hard man
in money matters — and he took care to see her helped
to the largest share of the tempting strawberries on the
tea-table, and to the richest cream. Ned was quite at
his ease, as indeed he was in most places, and kept up an
animated conversation with Arthur and Clara, who was in
her highest spirits.

After tea, they went back to the verandah, to enjoy the
cool pleasant evening, and watch the fire-flies gleaming out
among the dark foliage as the dusk drew on. Then lights
were brought into the drawing-room, and Caroline went in
and sang some of her songs, while the others remained in
the soft dusk, Kstening to the sweet sounds as they came
floating out through the open windows. To Katie the
whole evening was full of new and pleasant sensations ; and
when she lay down, she was for some time too excited to
sleep.

She was awakened very early next morning by the

golden rays of the sun, slanting, in almost level lines,

through the pines, and the warbling of the birds stealing

sweetly in through the open window, to which, accordingly,

she went to enjoy the cool, pleasant freshness of the early

hour. Then she knelt to pray, and ofi'er — not a short

formal prayer, such as used to satisfy her conscie ice — but

a full, thankful outpouring of gratitude to God for all the

blessings she was enjoying. When she was dressed, she

went quietly to the verandah, and thence out among the

pine-trees, where she walked slowly up and down for a

101

A VISIT.

little till she was tired, and sat down to rest. She was left
long undisturbed, for the family were, most of them, not
early risers. Arthur was the first to make his appearance,
coming by a path through the pines, with a book in his
hand which looked very like one of Ned's college books.

" Have you been up long, Miss Katie ? " said he. " You
seem to have the start of everybody else."

" It was such a lovely morning, and everything is so
beautiful here, that I couldn't bear to lose any of it."

" Yes, it does seem a shame to lose the best of the day, —
which the morning is at this season of the year. Things are
never so fresh and sweet at any other time. I always get
an hour or two's study before breakfaot, in a quiet nook I
have, down there, in the hollow of an old pine."

Katie glanced at the book he was holding. " * Horace,*
isn't it ? " she asked.

" Yes ; I suppose you haven't made the acquaintance of
that poet yet, have you ? "

" Oh, I have read very little poetry at all," replied Katie,
blushing ; " only Mrs Hemans, and * Edinburgh after
Flodden,' and a little of the * Christian Year* — what I can
understand of it.'*

" Well, I *11 introduce you to * Horace,* if you like, — an
elegant and original translation,'* he added.

" Thank you ; I should like it, if it is not too much
trouble."

Accordingly, he translated for her one of the light, spark-
ling odes, which she thought pretty, read with his musical
voice and rhythmical intonation ; but it was far from

awaking the play of feeling, or touching the deeper chords,

1 02

A VISIT.

R-as left
iin, not
mrance,
t in his

)00k3.

"You

ng is so
t."

e day,—
bings are
ways get
t nook I

< Horace,*

ntance of

led Katie,
•gh after
lat I can

ike,— an
loo mucli

it, spark-
musical
far from
ir chords,

and this was her chief enjoyment in the reading of poetiy.
So, though she thanked him, he coukl easily see that
Horace was not likely to he a favourite of hers.

" I '11 read you something better than that by and by," he
said, as the breakfast-bell rang. After breakfast, accord-
ingly, he handed her a large volume, saying, as he did so,
that he fancied that would keep her in reading for the day,
at all events. She glanced at the title : it was " Ivanhoe,"
80 full of interest and magical unfolding of romantic
delight to all young readers. Katie, with her enthusiasm
for old-fashioned things and times, derived partly from Mrs
Duncan's old Scotch stories, was likely to appreciate it fully.
The temptation to bury herself in its fascinating pages all
da,y, in forgetfulness of everything else, was hard to resist;
yet she bravely overcame it, reading it only when her at-
tention was not claimed by any other object.

Helen Grey came to give her morning lesson, which was
not, however, begun till she had first promised to come to
tea that evening, and, if possible, bring her father along
with her. After Clara and the children had gone to their
lessons, and Arthur to his studies, Caroline — who was seen
flitting about for half-an^hour among the flowers, in her
pretty summer morning dress and straw hat, looking, as
Katie thought, with her bright fair hair and light graceful
figure, " like a picture in a book " — appeared, with a quan-
tity of cut flowers of all kinds, and claimed Katie's assist-
ance in the pleasant task of arranging them in bouquets for
the vases. Katie very willingly aided in the operation, foi
it was work she enjoyed thoroughly ; and as they proceeded

they kept up a lively conversation, the chief interest being

103

i«ii

A VISIT.

Katie's flowers at home, her little lost dog, and her rollick-
ing brother. But much as Katie admired Caroline, and
pleasantly as she talked, Katie felt instinctively that she
could never hold converse with her as she did with Helen ;
and that the whole range of subjects which she and Helen
liked best to discuss, touching the really important part of
our life — our immortal interests — was strange ground, which
she shrank from entering upon with Caroline. It is
sad that it should ever be so — that the minds of the young
should not always be accustomed to dwell upon things
unseen and eternal, which, far from diminishing their hap-
piness, would give it a higher and more enduring quality,
and impart, as well, a purer and richer tone to the first
vibrations of their inner being. But it was not so in
the Winstanley family ; the " better part " was very much
overlook ed, or considered as at best, in the culture it re-
ceived, only a decorous appendage to the abundance of
earthly life and possessions. Even Arthur, with his purer
tastes and poetical longing for something higher than this
life affords, had, at most, only a vague religious sentiment-
ality, and never sought earnestly to realise the meaning of
"following Christ" as his Lord and Master.

In the afternoon, when his studies were over, Arthur
brought out with him several volumes of poetry, and an-
nounced himself free to read to Katie and his sisters. One
of his selections — a great favourite of his — ^was the " May
C^ueen." It was quite new to Katie, who listened with an
expression of rapture ; till, at length, the sweet, touching
pathos of the poem, and the happy Christian hopefulness

of the concluding strains, made her glad to turn away her

104

If ■

A VISIT.

rollick-
le, and
lat she
Helen ;
L Helen
part of
1, which

It is
e young
I things
leir hap-
quality,
the first
)t so in
iry much
ire it re-
liance of
lis purer

lan this
ntiment-
laning of

Arthur
and an-
rs. One
e "May

with an
touching
>efulness
Lway her

liead to hide the tears she could suppress no longer. Even
Arthur's voice trembled as he read ; and Caroline and
Clara, though they had heard it before, did not listen with-
out emotion. No one ventured to make a remark when it
was concluded ; and Arthur, as a relief from its tone of
sadness, turned to read one of the spirited " Lays of the
Cavaliers." Katie, however, when she saw that Aytoun's
shafts were, some of them, launched against hep heroes, the
Covenanters, was roused to indignation, veheniently pro-
testing that it was " not nearly so nice as * Edinburgh after
Flodden.'" Thereupon an animated discussion followed
between her and Arthur, as to the merits of the Covenanters
and their cause, in which Arthur took the opposite side,
chiefly for the sake of argument — a thing he was fond of
doing. Whei^ Mr Grey arrived, with Helen, the point was
referred to him ; and Katie, who had got quite excited
about it, felt sure that he would take her side.

"Well, at any rate," exclaimed Katie, after Mr Grey
had hazarded an opinion, "I am sure the Covenanters
were, at least, a great deal better than the other people,
and they did not kill women and children."

"I hope they were better," said Mr Grey; "it would
have been strange if they had not been so, since they pro-
fessed to bp serving Christ, while the cruel soldiers, who
committed the deeds you speak of, were serving only an
earthly king, and perhaps had never been taught anything
about the love of Christ at all. And I feel persuaded that
many of the Covenanters had forsaken all for Christ, nor
* counted their own lives dear unto them ' when His cause

was at stake. But, whenever we begin to exalt erring men to

105

A VISIT.

liiii

an undue authority, and give them any of the veneration

and homage which belongs to the one perfect Man, we

need to he reminded that *all flesh is grass,' that it is

only * the word of the Lord that endureth forever.' " From

the moment it assumed this form, Arthur ceased to

bear a part in the discussion ; the battle was not fought on

his ground at all, for Mr Grey's remarks took a higher

range than his thoughts had, as yet, been accustomed to

follow. There were thoughts that were new to him in

what Mr Grey had said ; and as he saw with surprise that

Katie, who was certainly much his inferior in attainments

and general culture, was able to enter into them much

better than he could, he connected this with what he had

previously noticed in her, and concluded that the principles

on which she felt and acted were diflferent from those

which usually actuated himself and those around him."

Helen and Katie had a little quiet talk by themselves,

as the dusk came on, and then, after some music from

Caroline, Mr Grey closed the evening, as was his wont

wherever he visited socially — whether among his own

people or among others, — with reading the Scriptures and

prayer. Family worship was not customary with the

"Winstanleys, but they were always willing that any

clergyman who might be their guest should conduct it

Arthur was particularly struck with one petition in Mr

Grey's simple prayer, which he long remembered — " Help

us, 0 Lord, to seek to know Thy will concerning us, and

to follow Christ in doing it, assured of Thine own promise,

that if any man will do Thy will, lie shall know of the

doctrine."

io6

leration
:aii, we
At it is
' From
osed to
)Uglit on
I higher
omed to
him in
►rise that
ainments
m much
tt he had
jrinciplea
om those
him."
emselves,
asic from
his wont
his own
tures and
with the
ihat any
»nduct it.
m in Mr
.—"Help
us, and
promise,
>w of the

CHAPTER X.
|teb'8 J'rienbs.

Only keep thee on the wing.

Music dicth in the dust,
Nothini; that but creeps can sinf;r,

AU hearts that soar heavenward must."

ATIE'S agreeable sojourn at Pine Grove

ended next day, and she went home,

strengthened in body, and carrying with

her many pleasant recollections, as well as a

cordial invitation that her visit should be repeated.

She was not a little sorry to leave a place where there

had been so much to enjoy, and where she had

received so much kindness ; but still she felt amply

compensated in experiencing the delightful sensation

of coming home after the first absence, and that, after

all, there was at Pine Grove no equivalent for her

mother's loving greeting. It did not occur to her

either, to contrast the luxuriously -furnished rooms

of the Winstanleys with the homely furniture of

her own dwelling, which had seen so much service, and

had so little chance of renewal : — it was all entwined with

107

•v^

NED'S FRIENDS,

II if

the endearing associations of home, which made it look,
in her eyes, different from any other furniture in the whole
world. Ned was very glud to have her back again, and
her papa was at home, and very kind and sociable, on the
evening of her return ; so that there was no alloy in her
pleasure.

Jim's lessons went on again as usual, after the slight
interruption. Tlie poor fellow was really trying hard to
overcome the difficulties in his way, and was getting on
surprisingly well, considering the drudgery it was to a boy
of his age and restlessness. As Katie was now able to
walk so much better, she ventured to put in execution an
idea which had been often in her mind, — to get Jim to
show her the spot where he had buried poor Jet He
looked ashamed anjd awkward when she spoke to him
about it, but, encouraged by her kind tone and manner, he
at length willingly agreed to conduct her to the place. It
was a pretty, shady retreat, now that the elm-trees which
overhung it were richly clothed with abundant foliage,
through which the flickering sunbeams played on the
grass ; and Katie sat down on the spot which the boy had
pointed out to her, and wondered if there would never
again be anything more of her merry, playful little
favourite. Jim stood at a little distance, watching, some-
what ruefully, her face, which was looking so much sad-
der than its wont, — but it was quite impossible for him to
express anything of the penitence which he really felt.
Perhaps, however, Katie could see something of it in his
countenance, for she presently said — " Thank you, Jim ;
that will do just now. I 'm much obliged to you for being

io8

NED'S FRIENDS.

it look,
le wliola
un, and
;, on tlie
y in hci

le Blight
hard to
itting on
; to a boy
ir able to
cution an
it Jim to
Jet He
e to him
lanner, he
place. It
ees which
it foliage,
d on the
le boy had
uld never
rful Uttle
ng, Bome-
much sad-
;or him to
|eally felt,
it in his
ou, Jim ;
for being

80 careful about him, and I know you didn't mean to do
Jet any harm."

"No, Miss, I didn't. Thank you, Miss," muttered Jim,
relieved at finding himself comprehended without the
trouble of explaining his feelings.

Mrs Johnstone was beginning to feel somewhat anxious
about Ned, who was evidently not at all inclined to
settle in earnest to the studies which were necessary
to fit him for turning his next session to the best
account. He might, urged by her solicitations, begin
in the morning, but before an hour had passed, he was
pretty sure to find some excuse for going into the village,
where he would manage to pass miost of the forenoon.
Then he was often away in the evenings till pretty late,
and she could not draw from him a very satisfactory
account of the way in which they were spent One
evening, when he was absent, Arthur Winstanley came
in to briiig Katie some fresh reading, and, after a little
talk, askid, somewhat uneasily, "Do you know where
Ned is to-nighi 1 "

" No," said Katie, looking inquiringly up, for nhe noticed
something unusual in his manner.

" Well, I thought you might not ; of course, I have no
right to keep watch over Ned's actions, but I felt sorry to
Bee him, a little wliile ago, hanging round Smith's, with
Sam Flint and young Williams."

" Smith's " wt'i( the village inn, — ^like most village inns tlie

resort of the loafers of the neighbourhood ; and Williams

and Flint were two young men of rather doubtful

reputation, given to betting, tippling, and, it was even

109

NED'S FRIENDS.

11 !i

liltH

Himoured, to gambling : the report of this, therefore, made
Katie look distressed and even frightened.

"Yoti must not alarm yourself unnecessarily," said
Arthur, quickly, *' I only thought it would be a good thing
if you knew, for I have seen him in company with them
several times. I don't think Ned 's the sort of fellow to go
into anything wrong with his eyes open, but the fellows of
that frate. lity are not likely to do him any good, and you,
or Mrs Johlistone, might manage to persuade him to give
them up before any harm is dohe."

" Mamma will be dreadfully vexed, I know," said Katie,
" but I will tell her. I know she 's afraid of his being
about the village so much."

" But don't let Ned know that I have been putting you
up to it," said Arthur, smiling, " or I fear he '11 not forgive
me for telling tales on him. Only I know he wouldn't
stand my talking to him about it, and I can't bear to see
him doing what I am certain your manmia would so much
disapprove of."

" I 'm sure it 's very good of you to tell us, and we '11
take care not to let Ned know you said anything about
it," replied Katie ; and Arthur, seeing that she was dis-
inclined to talk any more, went away shortly after.

Katie could scarcely bear to tell her mother what she

knew would distress her and make her anxious ; but she

felt that it was necessary she should do so, in order that

the evil might, if possible, be at once prevented. Katie's

report was only a confirmation to her of the vague fears

she had already experienced, and she resolved to take

the first favourable opportunity of bringing up the

i !

NED'S FRIENDS.

■e, made

^," Baid
od tbing
th them
ow to go
ellows of
and you,
a to givo

aid Katie,
Ma being

itting you
lot forgive

wouldn't

bear to see
d BO mucli

and we'll
Liii5 about
e was dis-
;er.

what sbe
; but ebo
»rder that
Katie'3
[ague fears
to take
i\p the

Bubject^ and drawing from Ned his own account of his
rompanions. She had not very long to wait for an occasion.
When Ned came home, which was not till pretty late, he
looked flushed and excited, and his mother, passing close to
him, "Was shocked to perceive that he had been indulging
in the poison which had so marred her husband's life, and
clouded her own with sadness. Ned was growing so like
what her husband had been in his early days, that she was
often haunted by the fear lest the same deadly influence
which had so changed and deteriorated the father, should
lay hold of the son ; and now it seemed as if what she
dreaded were already too surely in train towards fulfilment.

Ned was startled at her distressed look, and conscience
at once told him what it was that troubled her ; his eyes
could not meet hers when she asked him anxiously where
he had been.

" Just down into the village," he replied, trying to speak
carelessly.

" 0 Ned ! my dear boy, you have been where you
should not, and with people you shouldn't have been
with, I am sure ! "

"I was jast talking for a while with two fellows down
at Smith's," said Ned.

" Who were they, Ned ? I must know, and what you
had to do with them."

" Oh ! it was Williams and Flint ; they 're not bad

follows, though people give them a bad name. They

wanted me to decide a bet they had a dispute about, and

then Williams, who won the bet, insisted on treating us to

a little supper — that was all."

Ill

I I

NED'S FBI ENDS.

"0 Ned!" Baid his mother, "you will grieve ine
exceedingly — it will almost kill me — if you go with these
wild young men, and learn their ways, especially that
terrible habit of taking spirits ! Now, Ned, for my sake,
if for no other reason, do keep away altogether from it, and
from people who may lead you into it ! "

Mrs Johnstone spoke very earnestly, and Ned saw how
intensely she felt what she said. He could guess, moreover,
why her dread was so great, for he knew too much of his
father's weakness, and he would not willingly vex her. So
he said —

" Well, mother, I '11 try to keep away from them, and,
at least, I won't drink with them any more ; but I can't
quite cut them, you know. They 're really good-hearted
fellows, and they know so much about horses, and so on,
I wish, you could see Williams managing Smith's wildest
horse I You see, it 's hardj when I like them so much, to
give them up."

Mrs Johnstone sighed^ and did iiot know what to say.
She knew Ned could receive only injury from such inter-
Course^ and yet she could scarcely go so far as to forbid it
altogether. So she resolved that Katie and she should do
all in their power to keep Ned with themselves, and pro-
tide him with better objects of interest. She spoke to
Katie quietly about it next morning, and suggested that
fihe should set herself to incite him to pursue liis studies
with greater zeal. She tried, accordingly, various ways of
stirring up his ambition, but, to her sorrow, not one of
them was attended with any satisfactory result

"You see, Katie," he said, "I can study when I'm

112

NED'S FRIENDS.

eve ine
Lth tliese
tlly that
iny Bake,
m it, and

. saw how
nioTcover,
ich of his
ix her. So

them, and,
but I can't
3od-hearted
J and so on.
th's wildest
10 much, to

-when I'm

pushed ; but it 's so hard to make one's self work when you
think you can do it at any time, and that it is not of much
consequence whether you set to to-day or not, because you
have plenty of time before you."

Just then Helen Grey came in at the gate — they were
sitting on the verandah steps — and Katie referred Ned's
objection to her.

" Yes," said Helen, smiling, " it isn't at all difficult to
make ourselves think what we want to think, when some-
thing disagreeable is to be avoided. But every day that you
lose in that way diminishes just so much the 'plenty of
time ' that you have before you."

" Well, when I do begin I can soon make it up," said Ned.
" It wiU always be harder to begin though ; and I don't
know that you can ever make up for hours that have really
been lost. Every day has its own allotted work, and what-
ever isn't done in its own time will sooner or later take
away from the time that is given for something else. I
believe we shall all have to account for every moment that
we waste wilfully."

" Some people will have to account for an awful lot of
them, then," said Ned, half-laughing, as he stripped the
bark off a small branch that he lield in his hand.

"Well, see that you are not among the number," rejoined
Helen.

Ned gave a deep-drawn sigh, with a comical look of re-
signation, and said —

" At least Winstanley won't have to account for many, I
should think ; he reads and studies all the time he isn't

asleep."

113 H

NED'S FRIENDS.

** Yes, I think he is very diligent," replied Helen ; "but
it does not follow that when a person reads or studies con-
stantly, he may not have to account for time misspent. If
we neglect the work given us to do at any particular mo-
ment, for the sake of something else that we may like bet-
ter, even should it happen to be study, we would be mis-
spending our time all t'iie same as if we were idle."

Ned opened his eyes. " Well, now, I thought that if a
fellow was studying, he must be all right"

"And if Dr Elliott, then, were to study all day, and
neglect his patients, would he be all right ?"

" Oh, no, of course not. Well, I only wish I had some
work appointed for me that isn't study. I think I 'd do it."

" Don't be too sure of that. It 's a ^reat deal easier to
think we would do work we haven't got to do, than it might
be to do it if we had it However, I have lectured you
quite enou^di," she added, laughing, " and now I must go ;
so good-bye."

" Wait, Helen," said Katie, " we '11 go part of the way
with you ; it 's so pleasant now for a walk."

And they set out together, Katie delighting to show the
very noticeable improvement in her pedestrian capabilities.

As they returned home, they passed young Flint and
Williams lounging beside a fence. They nodded familiarly
to Ned ; but Katie quickened her pace slightly, and they
were speedily passed.

" They 're very good fellows, Katie, I assure you," said

Ned, eagerly, as he noticed her shrinking from them.

" There 's Williams, I believe he would give away the last

shilling he had to any friend who needed it"

114

NED 'S FRIENDS.

l; "but

ies con-
ent. If
liar mo-
like bet-
l be mis-

; that if a

day, and

liad some
I'd do it."
al easier to
tan it might
pctured you
1 must go ;

of the way

bo show the
lapahilities.

Flint and
familiarly

r, and they

you

V said

from thenu
ray the last

" Then it 's a great pity, Ned, that he isn't steady as •well.
He 'il never be able to do much good to his friends unless
he is ; and if he were really good-hearted, he would not
grieve them by behaving as he does. Mrs Duncan told us
that his poor mother was nearly heart-broken about him,
and that she didn't tliink he would ever settle to anything
steadily. I 'm sure it would kill mamma if you were to go
on like that, Ned ; and would you deserve to be called
'good-hearted' then?"

Ned said nothing, but began to whistle to himself,
thoughtfully. Presently he exclaimed —

" Well, it 's rather hard in a place like this, where there
are so few people, to have to break with the only fellowa
one cares much about."

"Oh, Ned," said Katie, reproachfully, "isn't Arthur
Winstanley far better company for you than those two
young men you have so taken to ?"

" Oh, Arthur's very well for some things," rejoined Ned ;
" but he 's rather slow, you see. He 's very nice company
for you girls, that like to have poetry read to you, and all
that sort of thing ; but I get tired of his always mooning
over things I don't care much about. Of course, it may be
my bad t£iste ; but I 'd sooner be able to judge of a good
horse when I see one, than know all the poetry and classics
that he 's got in his head. I wonder what good they '11 ever
do to any one?"

" I suppose people wouldn't have to learn them at college
unless they were to do them good," said Katie, timidly,
feeling that she was treading on unknown ground.

"Well, it's my belief that half the fellows I know at

IIS

NED'S FRIENDS.

iii

college won't be a bit the better of all they learn
there.**

" Then it must be their own faults," said Katie ; " for
Helen says, that whatever it is our duty to do, we shall be
the better for doing it faithfully ; and it must be one's
duty to study faithfully when one is at college."

To this Ned did not care to reply ; he had a great respect
for Helen's opinion, and he felt there was some force in
Katie's logic. So he was glad of an unexpected apparition
to turn the conversation.

" I declare ! — the old proverb, you know — if that isn't
Arthur riding as I never saw him ride before ! I didn't
believe he could go like that," he said, half to himself.
"Holloa, Arthur, what's up?" he shouted, as he came
nearer.

" Oh, a little child near our gate 's got scalded, and I 'm
looking for Dr Elliott ; he 's two miles out in the country,"
shouted Arthur, breathlessly, and, without slacking speed,
he dashed past them.

Ned looked silently after him tiU the horse and rider
were lost to sight, and then exclaimed —

" Well, I didn't think the fellow had so much pluck !
It 's one of those wild horses too ; I suppose it was the first
one he could get. I remember now I saw his sister riding
on his own this afternoon."

Katie wisely said nothing, though she felt somewhat
triumphant at this practical vindication of her friend's
prowess. And Ned, after that, paid much more deference
to Arthur's opinions, and did not again complain of him
for being " slow," at all events.

ii6

NED'S FRIENDS.

leam

>; "for
ihallbe
le one's

; respect
force in
parition

hat isn't
I didn't
himself,
he came

and I'm

country,"
ng speed,

and rider

ch pluck!
as the first
ster riding

somewhat
ler friend's
deference
ain of him

He even actually tried to force himself to study more,
though it was, as he said, up-hill work ; and he generally
kept himself, before his books at least, for a couple of
hours every morning. "With his mathematical studies he
did succeed in getting interested ; and he even offered to
teach Katie algebra — an offer which she willingly accepted,
though she did not altogether fancy it for its own sake.
Still, the conviction that it was good for Arthur to do it,
and the pleasure of mastering a subject which had the
attraction of novelty after so long a cessation of study, gave
a charm to the algebra lessons they had otherwise wanted ;
and Ned found that his pupil was at any rate determined
to set him the example of steady application.

The hot weather of July, however, interfered with
Katie's capabilities in this direction. Indeed, her strength
decreased so rapidly under its effects, and she grew so pale
and languid, that her mother's anxiety was renewed, and it
was a great relief to her when Dr lilliott proposed that
she should go to spend some time at a farm of his in
the country, where his wife and children usually stayed
during the heat of the summer. It was close to a small
inland lake, and both the greater coolness of the climate
and the change of air would, he thought, be beneficial to
Katie. Ned was included in the invitation, and Mrs
Johnstone rejoiced at the opportunity thus offered of re-
moving him from the vicinity of the youths whose intimacy
she dreaded so much, and which, in Lynford, it was so
difficult for him to shake off.

Katie was delighted at the prospect of real country

quarters and staying on a farm, her only drawback being

117

NED 'S FRIENDS.

' 'A

the separation it necessitated from her mother, who would
not accompany them, and leave her husband alone behind
her. However, she promised that should he be called away
from home during the time that Katie and Ned were at
Birch Farm, she would join them there ; and as Mr John-
stone said he expected to be away for at least a week before
long, Katie set out, happy in the hope that her mother
would follow.

They had a very pleasant two hours' drive through a
rich and well-cultivated country of fine farms, studded
with comfortal)le farm-houses and attached buildings. A
thunder-shower during the day had cooled the air, freshened
the green of the landscape, and washed the dust from the
foliage, so that Nature seemed, as it were, to rejoice after
her bath. About seven o'clock they came in sight of a
little white farm-house, standing back from the road, and
approached by a short avenue of dark evergreens, and be-
yond it they caught a glimpse of the blue lake, to which
the ground behind the house sloped down somewhat
abruptly. Mrs Elliott was standing at the gate looking
for them with Mary and Willie, the latter of whom, in a
state of great excitement, had kept flitting, all the afternoon,
between the house and the gate on expeditions of inquiry.
Katie got a delighted welcome from him, and he wanted
to carry her off the moment she alighted, to see all his
favourites, four-footed and feathered. He was, however,
reduced to order and sobriety by the announcement that
tea was ready ; and at length, when tea was over, he was
summarily despatched to bed, with the promise that Katie
should be at his service the next morning.

ii8

NED'S FRIENDS.

would
behind
d away
were at
r John-
L before

mother

rough a
studded
.ngs. A
reshened
■rom the
)ice after
.ght of a
oad, and
, and bo-
te which
omewhat
I looking
.om, in a
fternoon,
" inquiry,
e wanted
je all his
however,
iient that
r, he was
lat Katie

After they left the tea-table, Ned and the doctor went off
to take a stroll about the fann ; but Katie, tired out by the
long drive, was glad to lie and rest on a sofa that was pre-
pared for her special accommodation. This had been moved
to a little verandah at the back of the house, which looked
down upon the lake, — tinted at the time by the rich hues
of the sunset, and sleeping in calm loveliness between
the broken ground at their feet and the undulating shores
on ihe opposite side. Here and there its calm expanse was
concealed by the rich foliage of a noble maple or basswood
tree, from which the fire-flies began to gleam out as the
daylight faded. Presently, before the evening tints had
quite disappeared, the moon's gentle radiance streamed
down on the scene, glistening on the foliage, and making
the lake glitter like a sheet of burnished silver. Katie
had never seen much variety of scenery since she was old
enough to remember it — nothing, certainly, that impressed
her as so beautiful as this ; and she lay drinking in the
beauty aroimd her, and hardly caring to speak, tdl Mrs
Elliott interposed, and insisted that she should go to bed.
Then when she lay down in the little attic chamber, so
fresh and clean, with the white moonlight streaming in
at the open window, she fell asleep with her mind full of
happy thoughts, dreaming of quiet waters and green
pastures, and with Helen's verse running through her
sleeping, as it had done through her waking, thoughts ; —

•* If God hath made this world so fair-
Where sin and death abound—
How beautiful beyond compare
Will Paiadise be found t '

- 119

f II

CHAPTER XI.

" Why should we fear youth's cup of joy
If pure, would sparkle less?
Why should the cup the sooner cloy,
Which God hath deign'd to blesst"

HEY were all early risers at Birch Farm.
The old fanner, who, with his wife and
son, lived always there, rose with the sun —
often before it ; and as the doctor had to start
early for Lynford, breakfast was over before the
coolness of the morning had yielded to the grow-
ing sultriness of the day. As soon as breakfast was
finished, and the short family worship over, without
which the doctor never liked to part from his family,
Willie conducted Katie to the farm-yard, to intro-
duce her to his various friends there. He kept
dragging her eagerly first to one comer and then to
J another, — explaining " him 's a cow," " him 's a calf,"
"them's Willie's chickens," — to which latter he gave
chase in vain. Then he ran off for some crumbs to feed
them with, and soon had all the feathered mothers around

120

ch Farm.
I wife and
le sun —
tl to start
)efore the
he grow-
kt'ast was
without
s family,
to intro-
e kept
then to
's a calf,"
he gave
to feed
around

SUNSHINE AND SHADE.

them, with their families of various ages and sizes, much
to his and Katie's del'ght. She was very fond of animals
of all kinds, and duly admired the sleek, sleepy cows, stand-
ing ruminating in the shade, and the funny, lively calves,
as well as the two staid old farm-horses, that on these warm
days had almost nothing to do, and who seemed quietly to
enjoy the pleasure of going idle. Then they went to the
fields to see the sheep and the colts, which latter were at
once Willie's delight and terror. Katie liked the sheep
best ; the quiet matronly ewes, with their patient, wistful
faces, and the frolicsome lambs, running races, and tumbling
over each other in their play. By this time it was growing
warm, and Katie wan glad to go in and rest in the cool
shady sitting-room, and hear Mary say her lessons for
Mrs Elliott, who was busy. Ned soon appeared, glad to
seek the same refuge from the heat of the day, and betook
himself to a corner with his books, which Katie had taken
care to see packed up for conveyance to Birch Farm. Sho
herself had brought with her a good stock of reading —
some history, which she had taken up as she got stronger ; a
volume or two of poetry ; and "Kenilworth," which Artliur
had lent her on her finishing " Ivanhoe," as well as the
" Lady of the Lake," which she hoped to enjoy thoroughly
beside the lake at Birch Farm. She was determined,
however, to keep a good resolution which she had made,
to adhere strictly to the more solid reading in the
morning, reserving her light reading for the afternoon and
evening ; for she had begun to feel that so much of the
latter was not good for her, and she was anxious to go on
with some of her interrupted studies. So, after Mary's

' 121

SUNSHINE AND SHADE.

lesson was over, and she had sat down to play with her
doll, Katie was soon deep in Robertson's " History of
Scotland," which slie found as interesting as any story.

It was too warm to go out again until after tea, which
was always early, and then Ned, who had by this time
thoroughly explored the ground, took Katie down by the
easiest path to the lake-shore. The banks — shaded by fine
forest trees, standing singly or in groups — sloj^ed down
pretty steeply ; but by a slightly circuitous route they could
get down without much fatigue, and after about a quarter
of an hour spent in alternately scrambling and resting,
they succeeded, and Katie's delight was overpowering.
The crystal waves curled gently in upbn the beach of w^arm
sand or smooth pebbles, at her feet ; and the brushwood,
and willows, and maples, with which the shore was fringed,
hung over the lake till they dipped the ends of their
branches in its placid water, which reflected their fonns
like a mirror. She sat down on a dry mossy log by the
bank, to enjoy the scene, and watch the foliage on the
opposite shore, brightening in the evening sun ; while Ned
picked up pebbles, and taught little Willie how to make
them " skip " over the water.

A little canoe lay on the beach, which Ned got into, and
made a short trial cruise, before taking in Katie and Willie.
It turned out to be in good enough order, Ned declared,
for such inland navigation ; and as he assured Katie that
he could paddle and manage the canoe quite well, they em-
barked, and she enjoyed, for the first time, the sensation
of gliding over the smooth water. They kept near the
shore, to satisfy Katie, who was a little nervous — cliiefly

122

'lit

th her
iory of
)ry.

, wliich
is time
by the
. Ly fine
d down
ey could
, quarter
resting,
owering.
of warm
ishwood,
3 fringed,
of their
ir forma
by the
|e on the
hile Ned
to make

" She sat down on a dry mossy log by the bank, to enjoy the scene,
.md watch the foliage on the opposite shore, brightening in the evening;

Min." — ,?!•(■ ijj.

1 I

SUNSHINE AND SHADE.

on Willie's account — and watched the waves mu.ie by the
canoe grow pink and gold and purple in the sunset lights.
Just as they landed again, Mrs Elliott herself came down,
to carry off Willie and advise Katie to come up before the
dew should make the long grass on the banks too wet to go
through with comfort. So she returned to her post on the
verandah, to enjoy another calm moonlight evening

After this, Katie usually managed to get down to the
lake-shore early in the morning, and stay there in the shade
with her books till tea-time, to avoid the fatigue of going
up the bank in the heat of the day. Ned brought down
their simple dinner in a basket ; and they had thus a pic-nic,
as they called it, every day on the shore. When the after-
noons grew a little cooler, they generally went out for a
row, exploring the shore, as they glided past, and coming
upon many a fairy inlet and tiny cove, full of luxuriant
vegetation, and sheltered by rocks covered with brightest
mosses and graceful forms, which were to Katie an in-
exhaustible source of admiring enjoyment. Ned spent a
good deal of time in fishing, and kept the table pretty well
supplied with the fish in which the lake abounded ; but
Katie did not enjoy that amusement at all, and stayed
on shore when he was so employed. Her books, but espe-
cially the "Lady of the Lake," were a source of great
delight ; and she liked to imagine their lake a tamer Loch
Katrine, and to find out for herself a miniature representa-
tion of the Trosachs among the boulders on the shore.
Then there were wild flowers to be found in the nooks in
the woods, — the tiny delicate harebell, and the yellow

" impatiens" and occasionally a gorgeous cluster of the tall

123

SUNSHINE AND SHADE.

!!i'

''iil '
.: i
il

scarlet lobelia, while asters -without number were beginning
to open out their petals to the sun.

Sometimes they varied their afternoons by going with
Willie and Mary to look for late raspberries, or for the
black finger-berries, which were beginning to ripen. So
the days passed quickly by, and glided into weeks ; and
Katie felt, pervading all the enjoyments with which they
were filled, the happy sense that the things which gave her
so much innocent pleasure were provided for her by her
heavenly Father, and were part of the loving-kindness
which her Saviour had purchased for her at so costly a
price. The sense of His presence in and through all the
beauty He had created, made the world, she thought, seem
more beautiful than it had ever appeared before ; so far is
it from being true that religion — which, if it means any-
thing, means a sense of God'o presence, and of our duty to
Him, in all things — can give rise to any feeling of gloom,
or in any way curtail pure and innocent enjoyment. On
the contrary, it is the only thing which can make pleasure
pure and innocent, and thus give it its right to be called
real enjojrment.

About the middle of August, when the time of their stay

at Birch Farm was beginning to draw to a close, Katie's

great wish — that her mother should come out and share

their pleasure — was fulfilled, as Mr Johnstone had left

home for a few days, and she therefore felt at liberty to

come. She enjoyed the fresh country air, and out-door

life, and the pretty lake, almost as much as Katie could

desire, though she could not be persuaded to trust herself

to Ned's navigating skill in the boat, and was very nervous

124

SUNSHINE AND SHADE.

'ginning

ng with
> for the
pen. So
iks; and
lich they
gave her
;t by her
-kindnesa
) costly a
crh all the
ght, seem
; so far ia
eans any-
ir duty to
of gloom,

ent. On
|e pleasure

he called

ahout Katie when she did so. Katie also found, to her
surprise, that she was not so easily tired with the scramble
up and down the bank as her mamma was ; but the truth
was, she had got accustomed to it, and had also grown
stronger during her stay on the farm.

The last two or three days of their stay were rainy, and
as the weather seemed a good deal broken, it was not so
hard to leave the pretty farm and the beautiful lake as
it otherwise might have been. So, with the hope that
they would all be there again another summer, they bade
Mrs Elliott, and William and Mary, and the old farmer
and his wife, good-bye, and drove home to Lynford.

The bright, clear September days passed very rapidly
by. Ned's return to College was drawing near, and there
was a good deal to be done in renewing his wardrobe and
making it sufficient to last for six months without feminine
supervision. In this Katie was now strong enough to
help Mrs Johnstone very materially, the neat sewing she
had learped from Miss Fleming standing in good stead
now ; and it was a great happiness to her, as she sat con-
tentedly at work all the forenoon, — at least as long as her
mother would allow her to sit steadily at it, — to think that
she was doing something that was of real use. Ned had
at last betaken himself to his studies in earnest, in prospect
of approaching examinations ; so that the mornings were
very quiet when he was studying in one comer of the
dining-room, and Katie and her motlier were working in
another. Katie usually kept one of her books of poetry
near her work-basket, and learned many verses from the
"Christian Year" and Mrs Hemans, which were often

125

v.. ,'■_

Ill

; I

I !•

SUNSHINE AND SHADE.

afterwards an unfailing source of pleasant thought, coming

back to her memory " as words in season" of comfort and

of counsel.

It was a great trial, however, when the work was all

finished ; and the last days of Ned's stay at home having

arrived, nothing remained but to pack his possessions once

more in his trunk, and wait his departure. It was lovely

September weather, the trees, as yet, almost unaltered in

their green tints, — here and there only a yellowing branch

or a stray leaf foretelling the coming " fall," — when Ned

and Katie set out to take their last walk by the river

before their long winter's separation. How much may

happen before the next meeting is a thought that will

always occur when a long parting is close at hand, — not,

indeed, so much to the young as to those who have had a

longer experience of the sad changefulness and uncertainties

of this earthly life ; but it was present in Katie's mind

with almost the strength of a presentiment, and something

of the same feeling sobered Ned's usual flo^v of spirits and

made him unwontedly quiet. To Katie this separation

Beemed a great deal harder than the former one, not only

because she and Ned ^ad been much more constantly

together than when he y. as daily at the Grammar School

and she at Miss Fleming's, but also, and still more, from

the great development and deepening which her whole

nature had undergone during the last year, leading her to

feel the j)ainful, as well as the pleasant, more acutely than

before — and both in this world of ours are inseparably

connected ; only in the coming life, for which this

one, rightly used, is preparing us, will our developed

126

SUNSHINE AND SHADE.

coming
fort and

was all
B having
Lons once
as lovely
Itered in
ig branch
hen Ned
the river
Luch may
that -will
md,— not,
lave had a
certainties
tie's mind
something
birits and
leparation
not only
constantly
.ar School
lOre, from
icr whole
[ng her to
Ltely than
separably
ich this
ieveloped

susceptibilities for happiness be fully satisfied, and no
longer weighed down by suffering, for God himself has
told us ^* there will be nothing to hurt or to destroy in my
holy mountain."

" And you will write often, Ned, won't you ? " said Katie,
as they were returning homewards, rather thoughtfully.

" Oh^ yes," said Ned, rousing himself ; " let me see —
about once a month ; that '11 be often enough, wont it ? '*

" O Ned ! don't tease now ! I 'm in earnest. You must
write a great deal oftener than you did last winter, and
tell me more about things — your friends and the classes,
and all you are doing. And Ned," she added timidly, " do
try and take a first prize this season ; mamma would be
so pleased !"

" And you would'nt care, of course ! Well, I '11 see
about it. I can't undertake impossibilities though, and
there are some fellows there that will give me a rather stiff
pull to carry off the prize from them. However, I mean
to work pretty hard at my mathematics, at all events. The
other won't l>e of much use to me, any way."

" You can't tell what may be of use to you, Ned ; but, at
any rate, I should tliink doing one's duty would always be
of use, and it must be your duty to learn what is given you
at college. And Ned," said Katie timidly, and hesitating
a good deal, as they were by this time almost at the gate,
" if you would only read the Bible every day, and ask
strength to act aright, I am sure you would find it easier
to do everything you should do."

She did not dare to say more, and half expected some

raillery from Ned about " preaching ; " but he made no

127

SUNSHINE AND SHADE.

reply, and was unusually grave and quiet, and especially
kind and attentive to his mother and Katie all the evening.

That last evening, however, came to an end, as all things
do, no matter how much we may desire to put drags upon
the wheels of time. When, early next morning, Katie went
w5th "* f^d to the gate to see him oflF, after his hasty break-
fast, she seemed to feel the first chill breath of coming
winter in the sharp air, which had already just touched
some of the more fragile blossoms left in the flower-beds,
beni ' '•' "'.rlf>r a heavy load of dew.

Alter .hf i z^'', strained her eyes for long to catch the last
glimpse of tn ^ >le:iarting vehicle, and seen it disappear, she
retreat: hastily 'ser own room to give way to the fit of
cryiag ahe Laa o-^ ., , ;:^!'ing to repress. It seemed as if
there was nothing more of any consequence to do, now
that all the work for Ned was over, and she felt as if even
force could not compel her to go back to her neglected
reading and her other solitary occupations. However, it
happily occurred to her that she needed herself to follow
the advice she had given to Ned, and accordingly she knelt
down, and after earnestly praying for her brother's welfare,
as well as for strength to do her own duty, she rose again
both comforted and strengthened, — as all who pray in
earnest are sure to do, — and went down, comparatively
cheerful, to meet her little reading class, whose lessons had
been not a little interrupted of late.

cially

eniiig,

things

I upon

Bwent

break-

loming

auched

ir-beds,

bhe last
sax, she
le fit of
ed as if
lo, now
if even
sglected
ever, it
follow
.e knelt
elf are,
;e again
iray in
•atively
)ns had

CHAPTER XII.

Sorrofca.

Stay with us, pracious Saviour, stay,

While friends and hopes depart ;
Fainting, on Thee we wish to lay

The burden of our heart.

^NE afternoon, about a fortnight after Ned'g
departure, when the trees about L3mford
were all decked in their autumn glories of
gold and crimson, Jim Egan made his appear-
ance with a face full of important news, and ac-
companied by Snap, whom he did not usually bring
with him in liis visits to Katie.

" Well, Jim, what is it ? " asked Katie, who saw
that something unusual had brought him.

" I m going away, Miss Katie, so I came to bid
you good-bye," said Jim, twisting his cap about in
•i» his brown hands.

" Going away ! where ? "
" There 's a carpenter, father knows, up to Beach's
MQls, six mile up the river, and he wants a boy ; so he said
he would take mc, and I 've to go there to-morrow momin'."

129 I

SORROIV.

I I

%>,

" And are you glad to go ? You wanted to leam to be
a carpenter, didn't you ? " asked Katie.

" Oh, yes, Miss, I 'm glad enough for that, but I *m sorry*
to quit learning to read, all the same," said Jim, very
awkwardly, for he hated trying to express what he really
felt.

" Oh, but you mustn't give it up," quickly replied Katie,
" you must go on till you can read well ; I 'm sure your
master will help you, if you ask him. Or perhaps he would
let you go to the nearest school for an hour every day, till
you can read well, and write a little. You would be more
useful then ; so, be sure and ask him."
« I will. Miss Katie."

" And, Jim, you must remember, that the chief thing
you need learn to read for is, that you may be able to
study the Bible, which tells us all about Jesus Christ, who
came to die for us, that we might be good, you know. And
when He lived in this world, He was, in his youth, a
carpenter Himself ; so that should encourage you to leam
to do your work well, as, Mr Grey says, we may be sure He
did, for He did everything well."

Jim listened with open eyes as well as ears. He under-
stood pretty well what she said, for she had always read a
little of the Bible to her pupils when they came for their
lesson, and had tried to explain it ; and he did not forget, in
after days, having been told by her that the Son of God
had not scorned to work at the humble trade of a car-
penter, and had " done His work well."
Jim had, however, something else in his mind to say to

her and, after shuffling about for a little while uneasily, he

130 \'

SORROiy.

to be

m sorry
n, very

really

sd Katie,
lure your
he would
di\y, tiU
I be more

hief thing

)e able to

hrist, who

ow. And

youth, a

)U to learn

le sure He

|He under-
pays read a
le for their
^t forget, in
311 of God
of a car-
Id to say to
ieaaily,he

managed to stammer out, " Please, will you take Snap,
Miss Katie?"

Katie was taken aback, and looked surprised, and
hesitated ; she did not altogether fancy Snap's looks, and
had not forgotten his hostility to Jet. But Jim grew more
courageous, and continued —

" I 'd be so glad if you *d take him, Miss Katie, for your
little dog that was killed. I 'd better not take him with
me, and the poor thing 'ud be lost if I leave him at home.**

" Well, Jim, if mamma doesn't object, I '11 take him,
since you have made up your mind to part with him«
But what shall I do if he hurts Daisy ? "

"Oh, he won't. Miss, if you show him he's not to.
Hell mind what you tell him, if you're good to him.
And I haven't let him hunt any cats this long time. Poor
Snap, poor fellow," said Jim, bending over the animal to
hide his sorrow at parting with his old companion.

** You had better take him back with you now, Jim,"
said Katie ; " you may leave him here in the morning, or
get your father to do so, after you are gone. I won't bid
you good-bye just now either, for I shall see you again
before you go."

"Thank youy Miss Katie," said Jim, making his usual
awkward bow as he departed.

That aftomoon, Katie went into the village and bought
for Jim a neat lai'ge-printed Testament, in which she
wrote — "To James Egan, from his friend, Katie John-
Btone," and also a copy-book, in which she penned, in her
best round-hand, a few simple elementary copy-lines,
I which he might practise from by himself. These she

131

SORROW.

' I

took to him that afternoon, and presented them with
a few additional parting words of advice.

Snap was brought to his new home the next morning,
and Katie had a great deal of trouble in coaxing him to
stay. He was not, at first sight, an attractive pet, but he
liad partaken somewhat of the softening influence which
had toned down his master's nature ; and from having been
no longer excited to tease and worry whatever came in his
way, he had become much more peaceably disposed and
tractable. After Katie and he had really become friends,
no creature could have been more faithful, and he would
have defended her to the death against any possible
assailant.

Mrs Egan was a little improved in her domestic habits,

and the house was a shade less wretched than it had been

when Helen Grey first entered it. Her husband had kept

his resolution of sobriety pretty steadily, and he took care

not to let her have in her possession any of the money he

earned, to spend it on the poison she indulged in ; which

yet she would try to procure, whenever she could, by

begging from those who gave without inquiring to what

use their charity was likely to be appropriated. Now

that Jim was gone, Helen thought that the younger

ones would be quite as well at school, and to school

they were accordingly sent; but as Katie did not like

giving them up altogether, it was settled that they, and

Bome other neglected children who lived near them, should

come to her every Sunday for religious instruction, which

she tried, not unsuccessfully, to make as interesting, and

as far from task-work, as she possibly could. This class

132

SORROW.

lem

with

; morning,
ng him to
et, but he
5nce which
aving been
;ame in his
ispoaed and
me friends,
,d he would
.ny possible

lestic habits,
, it had been
md had kept
he took care
he money he
;d in ; which
te could, by
,ng to what
Lated. Now
[the younger
Ld to school
idid not like
.at they, and
them, should
Lction, which
;eresting, and
This class

was her greatest pleasure on Sundays, and the children too
were so fond of it that not one of them would ever
willingly stay away.

One evening, in the beginning of winter, as dusk was
gradually thickening into darkness, Katie, in reaching up
to get a book from a high shelf in a bookcase, unhappily
missed her footing, and, over-balancing, fell nearly to the
ground. In the effort to save herself from falling, she
gave herself a strain which brought on such an acute
return of the old pain in her back, that she fainted, and
for days afterwards could not stir without the intensest
suffering. The immediate effects, however, of the strain
passed away, after a few days of great care and tender
nursing ; but the shock had caused a serious relapse, and
the slightest over-exertion would bring on such suffering,
that whole nights were often spent by her in sleeplessness ;
which, dreary as they were, would have been drearier
still had not the verses of poetry and passages of Scripture
which she had learned, come trooping back to cheer her
spirit in the lonely darkness.

But a still more serious result was the increasing curvature
of the spine, which the doctor thought she might have out-
grown, but which was now becoming more perceptible ; and
her sweet, pale countenance was beginning to show some-
thing of the peculiar expression which is often noticeable in
the subjects of such an affliction. Mrs Johnstone still hoped
against hope ; but Helen could not help seeing that her
fears of a lifelong trial to poor Katie were only too likely
to be realised. There was another sorrow, too, which her
friend feared was impending over her. Mrs Johnstone's

133

SORROW.

health had always been delicate ; but this fall, her failing
strength, — owing greatly perhaps to long-continued anxiety
on Katie's account, and partly to a harassing cough which
clung to her, — seemed to assume a more serious aspect. Sh»
never complained, and manifestly disliked having anythii
said which, could awaken Katie's anxiety. Katie had been
so much accustomed, all her life, to see her mother more
or less ailing, that her anxiety was not easily aroused ; and
Helen saw it would be cruel, considering her physical
weakness, to interfere, and forestal the development of
God's providence. So, although she did not seek to
conceal her own anxiety, she left it to Katie's heavenly
Father to prepare her, in His own way, for whatever He
might, in this case, have in store for her.

Clara Winstanley's friendship for Katie had not at
diminished, and Katie was occasionally sent for to spcx.
the afternoon at Pine Grove, an invitation which her mother
always insisted upon her accepting. The change from her
usually quiet and monotonous life, in her own home, which
seemed unusually silent, and even sad, since Ned's depar-
ture, to the lively, merry family circle of the Winstanleys,
still unbroken, — for Arthur had not yet been allowed to go
to college, — was of unspeakable benefit to her, both in
health and spirits, which were always perceptibly improved
after an evening spent there. One fine afternoon in No-
vember, when the air was almost as soft and mild as an
Indian summer^— of which, perhaps, it was a lingering frag-
ment— Clara came over in the carriage, and after taking
both Mrs Johnstone and Katie for a drive, carried off the

latter to spend the evening with her.

134

SORROW.

ter failing
;d anxiety
igh wliicH
pect. Sb«
I anythii
e had hecn
)ther more
msed ; and
jr physical
lopment of
lot seek to
j's heavenly
whatever He

"We've got a lady staying at our house, Katie," said
Clara, aa they entered the avenue ; " her name is Miss
Foster, a friend of mamma's, from Ashby."

** Oh, I wish you had told me before," exclaimed Katie,
who, from constitutional shyness, always shrank from
in£eting strangers.

" Oh, you needn't be afraid of her," replied Clara, laugh-
ing. " Arthur says she is great fun — such a gossip ; and
lie goes on drawing her out, with the gravest face imagin*
able, till Carrie and I can scarcely contain ourselves."

" I hope he won't do it while I am tliere," said Katie,
uneasily ; for though she had no intention of making a
reflection on her friend Arthur, she did r it think tliis
covert ridicule of a visitor quite fair or kindly.

They were by this time at the house, and Katie was at
length duly introduced to the lad\ in question, who
scanned her from time t-o time with i critical eye ; and
being one of a class of talkers who, in the enjoyment of
their favourite propensity, and in their satisfaction with
their own penetration, often forget what is due to the feel-
ings of others, she began by and by a series of remarks upon
Katie, in another part of the room, to which she had gone
to talk with Arthur and Clara. The tone was intended to
be a low one, but was unfortunately quite loud enough for
Katie to hear all that was spoken.

" Nice-featured child — but dreadfully delicate-looking —
and, poor thing ! — ahem — decided case of curvature of the
spine — isn't it ? "

" Oh, no, I hope not," said Mrs Winstanley — not very
truthfully, it must be owned ; but, much distressed that

J35

SORROW.

Buch a remark should be made in Katie's presence, and
striving to persuade herself that she did not hear it, she
hastily turned the conversation to something else.

But Katie had heard, and sat flushing and paling alter-
nately, as the meaning of what had been said forced itself
upon her mind. Arthur, observing this, quickly drew her
away to another room, on the pretext of looking for a book
he wished to show her ; and seeing thaFshe was unable to
conceal the effect of the careless word?, he said eagerly —

" Don't mind anything that Miss Foster says. She is so
fond of talking that she will say anything just for the sake
of hearing herself speak ; and what she says is often the
greatest nonsense in the world."

" But is not that true ? " asked Katie, wistfully ; for a
conviction that it was had forced itself irresistibly upon her.

Arthur was very truthful, and he did not know what to
Bay, for he had heard the same opinion often expressed.
At last he said hurriedly —

" I 'm sure I don't know. I suppose it would take wiser
people than we are to decide. But, Katie," he added, hesi-
tatingly, and yet impelled by a strong desire to say some-
thing to comfort her, and in despair of finding anything
else, " I know what Miss Grey would say — that if such a
thing were to be, it would not be permitted unless it were
best for you."

Arthur spoke reverently, though more probably from the
feeling that such w^ould be Helen's opinion than from its
being his spontaneous conviction. It was a new tone for
him, however ; and Katie was so glad to hear him use
it, that she for the moment almost forgot her own trouble.

136

SORROW.

ence, and
iar it, she

Ik
.'•

ling alter-
)rced itself
^ drew her
for a book
8 unable to
eagerly—
. She is so
for the sake
is often the

tfuUy ; for a

)ly upon her.

^ow what to

n expressed.

Id take wiser
added, hesi-
to say some-
ing anything
hat if such a
.ess it were

kbly from the

than from its

|new tone for

lear him use

own trouble.

The truth of what he said, too, had its effect, and it
helped her to conquer herself, and repress at least all
outward signs of disquietude, so far as to seem nearly
her usual self for the rest of the evening, except that
she was a little more silent and less interested than she
ordinarily was in what was going on around her. After
she was gone. Miss Foster pronounced her a very lady-like,
nicely-behaved girl ; but Arthur had great difficulty in re-
straining himself from giving her his opinion of, and rating
her roundly for, her own thoughtless animadversions.

As for poor Katie, she spent a nearly sleepless night, and
had a bitter fit of crying when she was alone, and there was
no further need of self-control, as in the presence of strangers.
She conjured up, as we are all, in like case, too apt to
do, the m9,ny painful possibilities which the idea that
had been suggested to her mind might involve ; and she
was at an age when, even in the absence of personal vanity
— of whitjh she had very little — the disadvantages of any
conspicuous personal defect, such as might call forth either
compassion or ridicule, are very keenly felt. It was a
sharp trial for a nature so sensitive as hers ; but she took
her burden to Him who alone could lighten it, and at last,
calmed and soothed, she fell quietly asleep.

She did not dare to speak to her mother about whai she
instinctively felt would give her as great, if not greater, pain
than it did herself ; but she confided her trouble to Helen,
who, convinced always that truth was best, at once candidly
told her that such a thing was not at all impossible, and^
indeed, rather more than probable.

" But, dear Katie," she added, " if it should please God

137

SORROW.

km I

to send you such a cross to bear, can you not feel sure that
it is ordained for your good, and that He will give you
strength to bear whatever He appoints for you ?'*

"Oh, yes," said Katie, with a patient but sad acquiescence,
which touched her friend ; and then she told her what
Arthur had said, adding, " Wasn't it nice of him ? "

" Yes, indeed," said Helen ; " but I hope he is learning
to make that belief his own, as well as to respect it in
others. He would be such a useful man, if with all his
talent and knowledge he were a Christian in earnest. We
must pray that he may become one, Katie," she continued,
anxious to turn her thoughts as much as possible towards
others, and draw them from herself.

"Yes," replied Katie, softly, "and for Ned too." To
which Helen heartily assented.

A few days after this conversation, Mrs Johnstone grew
so rapidly and seriously worse as to excite real alarm in
Katie, and eflfectually wean her, for the time, from all
thought of her more private afliiction. Dr Elliott did his
best to alleviate her suffering, and subdue the alarming
symptoms, but with little success ; and Katie, though she
could not give up hope — it is hard, especially for the yoimg,
to do so — yet could not help seeing, almost in spite of her-
self, from the doctor's serious looks, and still more from her
mother's more than ordinary wistful, earnest yearning over
her, that they both feared the worst Her mother at last
nerved herself to tell her, as gently as she could, that she
had no hope of recovery, or even that the end could be long
deferred.

"But, mamma," pleaded Katie, still clinging to hope,

138

SORROW.

sure that
give you

iiiescence,
her "what

3 leaTTiing
pect it in
Lth all his
■nest. We
continued,
)le towards

I too." To

nstone grew

al alarm in

le, from all

liott did his

lg alarming

though f^he

^r the young,

jpite of her-

[ore from her

saming over

)ther at last

lid, that she

lould he long

tng to hope,

"you may be mistaken, you know. People have often got
better when they did not expect it."

" Not when they are as ill as I am now, darling. But,
Katie, you must not grieve too much. You can trust the
Saviour who is my only stay now ; and He will supply all
your need. He is the only one to trust to, either for life
or death. Remember that, my dear one. Perhaps I haven't
remembered it as much as I should have done throughout
my life ; but do you remember it, dearest."

To this Katie was unable to reply, and no wonder ; she
could only force back the tears till she found oppor-
tunity to give way to her grief without distressing her
mother, and she strove still to cling to that hope which,
as long as there is life, ever " springs eternal in the himiau
breast."

It is needless to dwell on the sad, yet, in the memory of
them, sweet days of watching by the worn-out invalid, —
the weary sinking of hope, as the shortening daylight of
December seemed to close drearily around the dying year ;
and the grief when, at last, death came gently like a sleep,
and the delicate frame lay in a repose so peaceful that
Katie could not believe that the spirit was indeed gone for
ever. It is well that the full realisation of that strange,
irreversible change comes only upon us by degrees, and
that the mind, almost imperceptibly, grows accustomed to
what otherwise might crush it altogether.

Ned had been sent for a few days before his mother's
death, and was present at the last to share the watching and
the grief of his father and sister ; for under all his fun, he
had strong feelings, and was deeply attached to his gentle

139

soRnoir.

mother. Nor was the remembrance of her anxiety about
him lost ; for as he stood by the coffin, taking his last look
of the cold, still face he was never to see again, he mentally
resolved, under the solemnising influences of the scene,
with God's help, to avoid in his future life all that would
grieve her, could she know it. He was obliged, however,
as soon as the funeral was over, to return to college,
where change of scene, and variety of occupations, could
not fail soon to divert his mind from the sorrowful
recollection of the bereavement that had darkened his
home.

It was very different with Katie, — left where everything
around her brought back afresh the sense of her loss, and
kept ajiye the aching feeling of desolation in her heart,
rendered still keener by her concern for her father, who,
partly from the violence of his grief, and partly from the
means to which he resorted in order to drown it, was
reduced to a state of complete unfitness for any of his
usual occupations, and whose physical and mental con-
dition was, to Katie, a source of intense distress.

His grief for his wife's death was doubtless made more

poignant by the consciousness, which he could not repress,

that his own weakness in yielding to the temptation of

his life, had both blighted her happiness and so preyed

upon her mind as to wear out the delicate frame before its

time. He remembered how bright, and active, and happy,

she was when, as his young wife, he first brought her to his

Canadian home, and how the light had faded gradually

from her eye, and the spirit from her life, as that fatal

habit of his, to which he would, at one time, have scorned

140

about
it look
intally
scene,
, would
Dwever,
college,
3, could
)rrowful
med his

erytliing
loss, and
ler heart,
her, -who,
from the
n it, was
ny of his
jntal con-

aade more
Dt repress,

)tation of

so preyed
before its

md happy,
her to his
gradvrally
that fatal

Ive scorned

SORROW.

the idea of becoming a prey, gained the mastery over
him.

And now, instead of manfully struggling— even for her
sake — with the temptation that beset him, aU his power of
resistance seemed paralysed within him, and he betook
himself to the same poisonous fountain of relief and
oblivion, as, to his wife's great sorrow, he had done years
before, when his pet and favourite Hughie was brought in
drowned. Katie would scarcely acknowledge, even to
herself, his evil conduct, or the true cause of his great
prostration, but it was no small addition to her burden of
grief that, instead of hearing in the afiliction the call of
his Heavenly Father to turn away from sin, he only
plunged the more recklessly into that very vice which had
marred his usefulness and been the bane of his life.

t.iil!

" V -li

1 '

ii !

CHAPTER XIII.

€tmloti.

" This, by the ministries of prayer,

The loneliest life with blessings crowds.
Can consecrate each petty care.
Make angels' ladders out of clouds."

'ELEN GREY tried, of course, to be as
much as possible with Katie, to cheer and
comfort her in this season of desolation ;
but, as the latter would not leave her father,
even for a day, she^had unavoidably to be a great deal
either a\pne, or a prey to the depressing influences
which his presence created. The long-continued
pressure upon her never very high spirits, told so
much upon her health, that Helen was glad when
Mr Johnstone, who at length roused himself to
Jj( attend a little to business, found it necessary to be
absent for a fortnight, and thus afforded her an op-
J portunity of caiTying Katie off, to have the benefit
of a change of scene, by staying first a few days with
herself, and then with her friends at Pine Grove.

She was ahnost unwilling, at first, to leave, even for a

142

COMFORT.

I be as
eer and
►lation ;
father,
eat deal
fluences
ntinued
told so
i when
self to
[y to be
|r an op-
benefit
lys with

short absence, the house, associated as it was with
memories of her mother, — ^memories, especially, of the
preceding winter and spring, when, though suffering
physically, she had been, as she now thought, so happy,
with that tender loving care always around her.

" Oh, Helen," she said, the first evening she spent with her
friend^ '' it seems as if I had been so foolish and ungrateful
to have been unhappy and discontented about anything
when she was alive* Oh, if I could only have it to live

over again

I »

len

for a

" My dear Katie, I know that feeling well ; I have had
it many and many a time since my dear mother was
removed from me. We are all often strangely blind to the
blessings we have, till they are taken from us, and we see,
only too late, the worth that was in them. But I think
the true lesson of this experience is, not to spend time and
strength in uselessly repining over the loss of blessings we
cannot bring back, but rather try to see better, and value
more, those we still have left, and use them so that we
may not have the same regret when they are taken from us."

"I wonder," said Katie, thoughtfully, "whether our
friends can know, when they are gone, how much we miss
them and value them ? "

" It is not easy to see how they could know of our grief
for them without its in some degree lessening their happi-
ness," said Helen ; "but one thing papa says he thinks we
may be sure of, that Christ communicates to them all that
it can add to their happiness to know." Then, after a little
pause, she added, " But I think perhaps one reason why we
are told so little about this may be, that we should other-

143

COMFOR T.

'i M

wise be thinking more of pleasing them than of the chief
motive for doing right, that of following Christ, who shoiild
be our only Master."

Katie enjoyed her stay with Helen much more than, in
the circumstances, she would have thought possible. The
quiet, yet happy, seriousness that pervaded the manse
harmonised with her feelings, and they had such pleasant
readings and talks together that she shrank from fulfilling
her promise to go to Pine Grove, when Clara claimed it.
Helen, however, thought the additional change would be
beneficial to her, and also that the greater liveliness of the
family circle would draw her more out of herself; and
as they both felt that the promise to Clara must not be
broken, Katie at length set off, reluctantly indeed, and not
without extorting a promise from Helen to be as much as
she could beside her, during her stay at Pine Grove.

She did not find the visit so formidable as she had
expected. Her deep mourning dress, and pale, sad face,
somewhat subdued the high spirit of Clara and the juniors
the first evening she was there ; and she gradually grew
accustomed to the lively, mirthful talk aroimd her, which
grated so strangely upon her at first. In a day or two the
tone of her spirits grew so much stronger and more health-
ful, that she was able even to enter a little into the pleasures
of the children, who were fond of her, and made all sorta
of demands upon her sympathy. Every kind of pleasure
and amusement was proposed by them for her acceptance ;
n,nd, in especial, she was offered any number of rides on a
tabogan which had been given to Frank and Bessie as a

Christmas present, and on which they greatly enjoyed

144

COM FOR T.

the chief
.0 should

J than, in
Die. The
le manse
, pleasant
L fulfilling
lairned it.
would he
aesa of the
(Tself ; and
ust not he
ed, and not
as much as
rove.

as she had
e, sad face,
the juniora
ually grew
her, which
or two the
lore health-
le pleasures
ide all sorta
of pleasure
.cceptance ;
rides on a
Bessie as a
by enjoyed

sliding down a smooth slope of glittering snow near the

house. A severe snow-storm, however, lasting two or three

days, put out-door amusements out of the question ; and

in the consequent enforced confinement to the house,

Katie's story-telling powers were called into requisition,

and she had to bring into play every tale or narrative of

adventure which she could call up from the corners of her

memory. The efi'ort did her a great deal of good ; as indeed

every willing attempt to give others pleasure always does,

by a strong reflex influence on ourselves ; so that, in this

sense, as well as in others, "it is more blessed to give

than to receive."

Pine Grove was a pleasant house in winter as well as in

summer, and its large light rooms were bright with open

fires, and scented at this season with beautiful hyacinths in

bloom, and even winter mignonette, which were tended

by Mrs Winstanley and Caroline, who were both fond of

flowers, and had plenty of money to spend in gratifying

their taste for them. Katie thought she had never seen

such exquisite flowers as the white and pink and blue

clusters, breathing forth such richness of fragrance, and

she was never tired of studying and admiring them.

Then it was a great pleasure to her to watch Caroline at

her flower-painting and embroidery, in which she spent a

good deal of time during winter ; indeed, Katie sometimes

wondered whether she ever did anything else besidcb, except

practising and reading novels, of which last there waa

always an abundance there, though most of them were of a

kind which Katie's taste, purified by drinking the living

water, turned away from instinctively. However, she did

145 K

COMFORT,

I I

not trouLle herself to judge others ; and it was simply

gratifying to her to watch the graceful sprays and ricli

flowers growing, either on the paper or the canvas, under

Caroline's fair hands, sparkling with rings, which Katie

admired, as she did everything about her, — with feelings,

moreover, without a shade of envy or discontent. In the

evenings, too, it was an intense enjoyment to listen to her

liglit, graceful playing, and the silvery cadences of her

voice, as she willingly sang any song which Katie asked

for ; for she was naturally obliging, and had from the first

been remarkably kind to Katie, for whom she cherished a

feeling that was half-admiring, half-pitying. Katie, on

the other hand, had an almost lover-like admiration for

Caroline's attractions, very different, however, from the

Bteady affection and full reliance which attached her to

Helen.

Clara continued faithful to the friendship which she

had established with her former rival a year before, and

would have . done anything in her power to add to Katie's

happiness, and show her own in having her beside her.

Her intercourse with Katie had indeed had no small

influence already on her frank, lively character, in which

there was much good to develop, though it had now,

through Helen's teaching and Katie's society, a higher aim

than it had once possessed, or than Caroline even dreamt

of. And Arthur was kind and obliging, as he had always

been, ready at any time to give up his own pursuits in

order to read to Katie anything which he thought likely

to please or interest her. His store of information was so

large, at least in comparison with Katie's, that they scarcely

146

»!

COMFORT.

which her quick intelligencelteH ' ° "' '"''"'^'
was even suT>rised to 4 ho„ f [ "^P^"?"*'' ' ">'<I he
appreciate sTme of tre . I 'f.™"''' ^"'^^ -'» and
^'"^.-8. Ka,, he c'u ;^;:j^::. :^-'>'^'' "« ^a,
earnestness and a ein<.lene„ !f '^ ""' ^" >»« «"
-t exiBt in hin,se,^^° :r:£rnrf' '^ ""^^^ O"'
the faith which was'her pi j; 0 fa, "^ T'""'' "'
was far from adopting it L ,? "" ^'"'"«'' ''«

eould appreciate i^ dfveLlt i'T ''" '"'^ "' '''''' '>«

conviction that life had rerprS.: t^T '' ''"'""^
the mere indulcencp nf oniT i i ' *^ ^^^ ^et by

;-^".^adasrints::i?i*'V"^^"'

onr^:^l^---t:^i;r.^

i-t subsided, andle t^^uSr'-'""^ ""'^'"^ '^^
«oIden through the great ^d J^ H 'IT""""'
nto the cheerful, cosy room whe^the ! ' '" ^"^P'
the fire, flushed and excited wilS, f ' ""''"« "^^
through the snow from the villa J t'P, '"'"""= -"^
to save his tutor, who was in d!? T ^' '""" g""".
walking to him. '^'^'""'^ ^^""h, the labour of

" ^^ yo" eold, Arthur i » said PI,

"wadded, in a tone which made them Ch.

147 °

COMFORT.

iii

" 0 Arthur ! " exclaimed Clara, " do sit down now and
read us that ; it is so long since I heard it, and we have all
been working ourselves stupid for want of you to read to
us. Have you ever read the * Lay of the Last Minstrel,'
Katie?"

Katie had only read some extracts from it, so she eagerly
seconded Clara's request ; and Artliur willingly sat down
to read to them what was one of his favourite poems, and
much of which, indeed, he knew by heart ; so tliat, as the
daylight gradually stole away, he went on quite easily by
the aid of the red firelight, and needed not to disturb the
enchanted atmosphere of the poem by ordering lights. It
was just that sort of wild mingling of the romantic and the
ancient and the supernatural which, as it marks this composi-
tion, was most congenial to Katie's natural taste ; and she
listened, with eyes fixed on the flickering firelight, and
almost seemed to see the various scenes and actors, and the
knightly array of weird forms, so vividly called up by the
magic touch of the minstrel. After tea, Arthur supple-
mented his reading by bringing out some fine Scotch views
and photograplis, among which were " fair Melrose," and
other illustrations of the scenery of the poem. Katie ad-
mired them extremely, and studied them so long that
Arthur protested she must have learned them by hear*^

"I wonder if all those places are really as ^ t:
they are represented here," she said.

"They ought to be more so," replied Arthi , "for, of
course, vou don't see the colouring there. But I suj >se
the artists have idealised them a little, as they call it — that
is to say, altered them slightly so as to make prettier pic-

148

now and
re have all

to read to
, Minstrel/

she eagerly
J sat down
poems, and
that, as the
te easily by
disturb the
r lights. It
,ntic and the
this composi*
ate ; and she
Lielight, and
iters, and the
|ed up by the
:hur supple-

icotch views

elrose," and
Katie ad-

lo long that

"by hear^

^ "foT, of

lutlBU] >"ie
Icall it— that
[prettier pic-

COMFOR T.

tures of them. I hope some day to see them all for myself,
however. Shouldn't you like too ? I should never be satis-
fied if I didn't."

" Yes, I should like it, certainly," said Katie ; " but I can
be quite satisfied without it. It is good that it is so," she
added, smiling, " as I am not likely to have the chance."

" Well, but there is some pleasure in thinking about it,
and looking forward to it, even if the time never did come,"
persisted Arthur.

" I think I would rather look forward to something bet-
ter, which we may all have," said Kattie, softly. " But I
suppose I think more about that now since mamma died."

" What is it you mean exactly ? " asked Arthur.

Caroline's music prevented their conversation from being
heard, or Katie would not then have ventured on that
ground.

" I mean the promise which is such a comfort when every
thing looks dark : * Thine eyes shall see the King in His
beauty ; they shall behold the land that is very far off.' I
was reading it this morning, and that made mo think
of it now."

This remark was distasteful to Arthur, and he did not
pursue the conversation. It annoyed him a little that
..atie's mind always would take such an unearthly turn
\'hen he wanted to discuss other matters with her ; yet he
lid not forget what she said, and even thought of it after-
wards.

It wap impossible that, with so many things to make it

pleasant utie should not have enjoyed her visit at Pine

Grove d perhaps the only day she did not thoroughly

149

r ^i

■i

! Hi

CO Af FORT.

relish it was the Sunday. She went, of course, with her
friends to the Church of England, which they attended,
and she was very much impressed with the solemn beauty
of the service ; but ; pained her to see the carelessness
with which the rest of the day was reg-/ded. Caroline
either fell asleep on the t )fa, under pretence of reading, or
kept up some idle conversation with her mother and sister
about the merest trivialities, among which was sure to be in-
cluded any peculiarities of dress or demeanour which they
had observed during the morning service. Katie could not
help wondering, indeed, how they could have noticed so
much, compatibly with any degree of attention to the osten-
sible object of their presence in the house of God. Arthur
used to shrug his shoulders impatiently at the "clattering,"
as he called it, and would steal away from them to read in
peace by himself — as Kutie, too, sometimes did, whenever
she could escape with decency ; but it was generally some
light secular magazine or novel that she saw in his hands.
Indeed, there was such a scarcity of interesting Sunday
reading in the house, that this was hardly surprising in
one who, as yet, would have considered it a weariness to
read the Bible steadily for any length of time.

" What are you looking so discontented about, Katie," he
asked, on the second Sunday evening of her stay, as they
sat near the dining-room fire, the others having one by one
dropped off to sleep.

" Was I looking discontented ? " asked Katie.

*' Yes ; I should take the expression of your countenance

to mean that you thought us all a set of heathf-^s, and were

grieving over the way we behave on Sunday."

ISO

, with, her

attended,

nu beauty

arelessnesa

Caroline

reading, or

: and sister

re to "be in-

Arhich they

LC could not

noticed so

0 the osten-
d. Arthur
clattering,"

1 to read in
, whenever
rally some

his hands.

[ig Sunday

■prising in

ariness to

Katie," he

r, as they

)ne by one

^untenance
L and were

COMFOJiT.

Katie coloured at this rather free translation, certainly,
of what had been passing in her mind ; but she could not
deny that something of the kind had occupied her, and she
felt it would not be candid to evade it j so she said, aftiT a
slight hesitation —

" I do think it 's a great pity that you don't get more good
out of your Sundays."

"Well, I think I get considerable good out of them.
Those girls gossip and sleep half the time, and do waste it
dreadfully ; but I hav3 been reading hard all afternoon,
and have got a great deal of information out of an interest-
ing scientific article on electricity."

Katie looked perplexed. She did not feel equal to prc>-
nouncing judgment on scientific articles, or to drawing
lines of distinction, but she had a strong conviction ou
the matter ; so the replied —

" I don't know much about electricity, but I do think
that is not the sort of reading Sunday was given for. It 's
a day of rest, you know, from all sorts of work."

"Well, then I should have been better employed in
sleeping, or reading a brown-paper novel ? "

" No, that would not be the right kind of rest either,"
said Katie, smiling, " and you don't think so."

" How do you know that ? But what is the right kind
of rest, then ? "

" I can feel it, but I don't know whether I can explain
it," said Katie. Then she went on more slowly, " It is the
rest that Christ speaks about giving to the v/eary and heavy-
laden, and that makes us forget about our ordinary cares
and worries, and gives a sort of new strength for the rest of

H^i,

COMFORT.

the week, just as one feels when one has passed a good
night's sleep after being very tired."

" And how do you get that sort of rest ? "

" Oh ! by going to church, and reading the Bible, and
other books that explain the Bible or put us in mind of
what it teaches, or by thinking about these things, and
by prayer."

She hesitated before adding the last, and said it only
because she disliked avoiding, from false shame, a full
answer to the question that had been asked.

" Well," said Arthur, " I don't tliink I ever got so
practical an idea before of Sabbath-keeping. It always
seemed to me more an arbitrary sort of thing than anything
else. But if the principle you and Miss Grey go upon is
the right one, there ought to be a good deal in what you
say. Perhaps I '11 try some time how it works.''

" I wish you would," said Katie. There was not mu ;h
in the words, but the tone was very earnest, and Arthur
understood it.

Her visit had been prolonged from a week to a fortnight,
as Mr Johnstone continued longer away than he had ex-
pected ; but when sure of his return, Katie made ready to
leave, and resisted resolutely all the kind solicitations to
remain a little longer with which she was pressed. It was
no small trial to her, in her, inmost heart, to leave the
bright and pleasant surroundings at Pine Grove, and go
to take up again the burden that was awaiting her in her
lonely home, where, for the first time in her life, there was
no longer a mother's voice and smile to welcome her back.
T^Iartha, who had long taken the principal management of

ii;2

V:T«

)assed a good

■e Bible, and
s in mind of
i things, and

said it only
lame, a full

ever got so
It always
tan anything
r go upon is
n what you

s not niu;h
and Arthur

a fortnight,
he had ex-
ie ready to
citations to
3d. It was
leave the
ve, and go
her in her
, there was
i her back.
Lgenicnt of

COM FOR 7",

household matters coulrl \.

mother's dying ck^se,-Z:Iolf ^ "^'^»''^'""-^ to her

? ;»<»" -" cheerful aa a hrilT^"^!" "''^^'"^ ^-n, to

f»lness could make it an? '"'^ ""-^ '^'^ *to"Blit-

''-^ greeting and a L^t d / "" """"^'^ '^^ -r^

-ke the evening pw:f;'ir" - ^" part t^

ttau he had for long d„„e n. ""' ^'^'^'^^ '» her

tetter for the Chan.: of scenet 7^ '""^""^ '"»«•' the
had given hina, and tor thTn "" ^''"^ ^'^ Jo-^ey

f impelling hin.se; oienTrtr.' '"'' ''''^ ""''-
'7"^-t- He did not, asSlf! ?"""^ ^"h"'' to
" .seeking relief fro^ p, J^ r-^' '^^'^ the habit
;l'.ch created only a tenjor^l J^^""^''' '" ^«'">^'">t3,
'"o- of progressive de-^TdaZ n""""' "' ^"^ "P-'''«e
--h n,ore at hon,e. ! S in ^^ """'"'^'^ "^'^ *i
^ens.b]e that Wa d«t; to S^,? 'he evenings, scenting
''- solitary, and grLLlv r^ ""• ^^'" ''""° ^''-r
;-e for his comfo." She rei IT""'" '" """■S'''^'^
tabling, hardly daring to Wtl T" ""^ '"'""S^ -«'
»"d feeling that it was 11 ■ "' " ^~"" ^ntinue
t«Jg;tayed in the dj^trr, "^ '"^ ^^^^ --

becon.e a partaker of th L t P ""■ ^'"-' "'^""^ ^
P-aching con.n.en.oration .^Lo """'"" "' '^' "P"
-^--usnallyeneon^e:;;!-;;;--^-

COMFORT.

forward to the ordinance while so young as Katie was,
lest they should do so without a due sense of the solenmity
of the vows they were taking upon them ; hut in Katie's
case he had no such fear, the peculiarity of her circum-
stances and her natural thoughtfulness having given her
mind a development at least two years in advance of her
age. He had conversed with her on the subject, and had
drawn her out as fully as her natural shyness and modesty
would admit ; and he told Helen how much pleased he had
been with the humility, and knowledge of truth, and
simplicity of faith which he found in her. " She is one
of Christ's little ones, Helen," he said, " and He has been
teaching her Himsell'."

" Yes, indeed," said Heleti, tears coming to her eyes ;
" I often wonder at the things she Bays, — far in advance
of me, who used to be her teacher ! "

But much as Katie wished to enjoy the privileges con-
nected with the observance, in obedience to His own dying
command, of the rite that commemorates our Saviour's
death, she did not approach it in any spirit of over-con-
fidence, but almost shrank, as the time approached, from
the responsibility which she felt was attached to the
solemn profession she was about to make. Helen en-
couraged her by reminding her that she had already in her
heart taken Christ for her Saviour, and that in coming
to His table, she was on outwardly ratifying her heart's
choice and her promise to be His. " And you can surely
trust Him for the strength to go on, can you not ? Tlic
Lord will perfect all that concemeth you. He doesn't
leave that for us to do.'*

154

^^fiA

ie was,

[enmity
Katie's
circum-
ven her
e of her
and had
modesty
i he had
ith, and
le is one
has been

ler eyes ;
. advance

eges con-
vvn dying
Saviour's
over-con-
led, from
to the
[elen en-
ly in her
coming
2r heart's
m surely
)t? The
le doesn't

COMFORT.

" No/' said Katie, " it would be hard for us if He did.
It is only myself I am afraid of; when I forge; His
strength, and try to go on in my own."

" Well, he never lets us do that long without showing
us the folly of it. Trust Him, Katie, that He can take
care of His own ; and His own are just those who come to
Him," added Helen, anticipating the thought which she
saw was on Katie's lips.

The C'Ommunion was to be on the following Sunday,
and the Friday previous was spent by Katie at the Manse, in
going to church with Helen, and in quiet reading and talk.
It was a lovelj, warm spring day, — the crocuses already
opening their yellow cups in Helen's garden,— and though
the memory of her mother still kept up an ever-present
sense of loss in Katie's heart, the day was to her full of a
calm, tranquil happiness, that many in far more prosperous
outward circumstances might have envied. And on the
Communion Sunday, a day which might have served as the
original of George Herbert's

*' Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,"
she thankfully partook of the Feast, feeling strongly the
blessedness of the Communion, not only with the Master
himself, but with the beloved ones who had gone to enjoy
His presence for ever in the courts above. It was truly a
source of refreshment and reviving to her, as it will be to
all who approach it in a humble and childlike spirit, and
she went on in the strength of it for many days to come.
It was well that she could find this nourishment in it,
for a new trial was impending V'liich would task her
utmost resources.

155

CHAPTER XlVi

" Why should I murmur, since the sorrow

Thus only longer-lived would be ;
Its end will come, and may to-morrotv,

When God has done His work in me.
So say I trusting, as God will, —
And trusting to the end, hold stilL"

IME, that wears through the seasons whether
rough or smooth, had brought round the
day when Ned was expected home from
college. As on the preceding occasion, his
father went in the morning to meet him at Ashby
and bring him home in the evening, and Dr Elliott,
who had to attend a consultation in the little town,
went with him. Katie spent most of the day in
various preparations for her brother's return, and
she and Martha did their best to make the houtii
as bright and comfortable, and the substantial tea
as inviting, as their ingenuity could devise, in order
to render the home-coming as pleasant as possible
in circumstances where so much would be missed.
When seven o'clock arrived, and the lighted lamp and

156

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

3 whether
ound the
|me from
,sion, his
at Ashby
ir Elliott,
tie town,
e day in
;um, and
Ihe houfci
mtial tea
in order
possible
lissed.
amp and

the well-spread tea-table stood all ready for the travellers,
and the fire was burning its brightest, Katie began to
listen for approaching wheels ; but, determined to control
her restlessness, she resolutely took up some work and
stitched for a while without betraying distraction. Gradu-
ally, however, the progress of the needle slackened as one
quarter of an hour passed away after another, and still they
did not come. Then the fire needed to be attended to ;
then she went to list i at the window, and presently
Martha came in to express her wonder at the non-arrival,
and to press Katie to take her own tea by herself with-
out waiting any longer. Katie could not, however, bear
to sit down alone, and, indeed, could not, as she said, have
taken any then at any rate ; and so another hour passed.
She went out to the door, at last, to listen, as if the listen-
ing would bring them. A light, warm rain was falling,
and she could hear in the stillness the rushing of the river
and of the water in the mill-dams, but no wheels. By this
time her head ached, and she felt faint from excitement,
so she yielded to Martha's entreaties so far as to swallow
a cup of nearly cold tea, and then was obliged, from ex-
haustion, to lie down on the sofa, where she soon dropt off
into an uneasy slumber. A sudden bark of Snap's awoke
her from a painful dream, with a dread of some impending
danger to Ned and herself, when she heard wheels stopping
at the gate. Before she could fully recall her confused senses
the door opened, but instead of Ned or her papa, Dr Elliott
stood before her. She was startled by the expression on hia
kind and usually cheerful face, and with a chUl fear at her

heart exclaimed, " Oh, Dr Elliott, where is Ned ?"

157

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

i !

" Here, and will be in, in a minute ; " but she saw there
was something more.

" And papa ? " she anxiously inquired, in a faint voice
that could utter no more.

She never knew how Dr Elliott made her understand
the fatal tidings ; she only knew her father was dead,
taken away in some sudden, unaccountable manner ; and
then she had a distracted recollection of seeing Ned's face,
white as a ghost's, and miserable, and of hearing a confused
noise of heavy feet in the passage ; and after that all was
dark and silent, and it was a good many hours before she
fully awoke to anything like a conscious realisation of
what had happened.

Mr Johnstone had been standing in the doorway of the
little hotel at Asliby, after having met his son and trans-
acted most of his business. He had been conversing with
an acquaintance, and was just turning to go in, when he
fell heavily to the ground. Ned was instantly by his
side, and Dr Elliott, who was only a few doors oflF, was
immediately summoned, but only to confirm what those
present already suspected, that life was extinct. " Heart
disease," said Dr Elliott to a friend who stood by. "I
examined him a month ago, and told him that he might go
off at any moment."

Those who were fond of tracing causes further, especially
where their neighbours were concerned, asserted that the
affection of the heart which, had then cut him off in the
prime of life, proceeded from the habits of drinking in
which he had indulged, and it must be confessed that there
was much to justify the opinion.

158

I. i

lw there
Lnt voice

iderstand
?as dead,
Qer ; and
fed's face,
I confused
it all was
before she
Lisation of

vay of the

and trans-
Tsing with
, when he
\y by his
8 off, was
hat those
« Heart
idhy. "I
[e might go

, especially
Ld that the
1 off in the
rinking in
that there

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

It was some consolation to Katie, in the terrible shock,
to know that he had at least had a warning, and to reflect,
moreover, on the change of his conduct since that warning
had been given, which seemed to assure her that it had not
been in vain. She was glad now to recall what she had
observed ip him of late, — the instances of thoughtful
kindness on his part, which had gratified her so much at
the time, his unwonted seriousness of demeanour, his
willingness that she should end the day with reading of the
Scripture, the times when she had seen him reading it for
himself, his accompanying her to church, and the solitary
visits she knew he had paid to her mother's grave. In the
absence of anything more definite, she fondly dwelt upon
these tokens of the repentance which she hoped had been
his. But it was, at best, a painful subject of thought ; how
different from the blessed certainty she had felt about her
mother ! The final summons had come to him with awful
suddenness ; whether it had found him " watching," who
could tell ?

Mr Grey and Helen took Ned and Katie home ■VN'ith
them immediately after the funeral, leaving Martha to take
care of the house until permanent arrangements were
decided upon. The shock she received from her father's
death, in its peculiar circumstances, had prostrated Katie
much more than her grief for her mother, both because she
had not the same pressing need as then of exerting herself
for others, and because of the unspoken weight upon her
mind regarding him, wliich prayed more upon her health
and spirits than any merely physical ailment.

But another soui'ce of anxiety now opened upon her, and

159

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

one, too, burdened with an entirely new sense of care.
Neither she nor Ned had ever known any particulars of
their father's pecuniary affairs beyond the fact, of which,
from their mother's anxious economy, they were well
enough aware, that there was never more money to spend
than was absolutely needed for the most necessary ex-
penses. His only executor, who had been his oonfidential
business friend, was Mr Wykeham, a lawyer in Ashby,
and a conversation which Ned had with him, a few days
after the funeral, revealed a state of things for which they
were totally unprepared. It then seemed that Mr John-
stone, in order to supplement the uncertain resources of
his prolessional income, which, in consequence of the want
of confidence in him produced by his unsteady habits,
was far from being what it might have been, had entered
upon various speculations in land and lumber, for the
carrying on of which he had been obliged to borrow to a
very considerable extent. Had he been spared for some
years to bring them to a conclusion, he might have realised
a handsome profit, but, in the state in which they were now
left, nothing could be done with them, except to transfer
them to others as advantageously as possible, or else to
wind them up at once. On the most favourable calculation,
after disposing of all the saleable property which Mr John-
stone had left, there would still be several hundred pounds
of debt reiaaining ; a prospect which filled Ned with dis-
may, to whose mind, fresh and uncontaminated by contact
with the world, the very idea of debt presented itself as
something terrible and degrading. Mr Wykeham pro-
posed to make an immediate composition with the

i6o

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

\ care,
liars of
which,
•e well
D spend
ary ex-
idential
Ashby,
5W days
Lch they
[r John-
urces of
he want
r habits,
I entered
for the
TOW to a
:or some
realised
ere now
transfer
else to
inlation,
J John-
pounds
ith dis-
contact
itself as
[am pro-
ith the

creditors, who, he thought, would be disposed to g-lve
an allowance for the present maintenance of himself and
his sister. There was providentially, however, he told
him, a small sum in reserve, originally inherited by Mrs
Johnstone, and settled finally upon her and her children,
and this, the lawyer thought, would, if economically used,
supply their absolute wants until Ned sliould be able to
provide for himself.

He came back to Lynford, from this interview, unusually
quiet and thoughtful, and when he and Katie were alone,
he explained all their circumstances to her, feeling that it
was a matter which concerned her as much as himself, and
that it would not be right to leave her in ignorance of it for
the sake of sparing her the present pain it would cause her.
And it did give her great pain, though she tried as far as
possible to conceal it, not because it would reflect on herself
— she scarcely thought of that, but because she felt as if it
involved some disgrace to her father's memory ; a feeling
which she could not quite get rid of, though Ned took care
to explain that, as the speculations might reasonably have
been expected to turn out well in the natural course of things,
he could not be blamed for borrowing money which he had
no reason to doubt he would soon be able fully to repay.

" And what can be done ? " she anxiously inquired.

" Mr Wykeham says we must make a composition with the
creditors, that is, get each of them to take partial payment
of the debt instead of the whole, and then obtain a dis-
charge from them, and have the matter ended. He thinks
they would allow us something besides to live on till I am
able to start life and earn somewhat for myselH"

i6i I*

A SUDDEN SHOCK'.

** Do you mean then," asked Katie, " that they are never
to be paid all papa owed them ? "

" Well, how can it be helped ? There is nothing to pay
them with in full."

Katie thought for a little while in silence, then she said
resolutely —

" No, they could not be paid just now, and you cannot
promise them what you haven't got; but Ned, if 1 were
you, and had the prospect of being able some day to make
money by working for it, I would promise myself, that just
as soon as I could earn it, they should be paid all they have
lent."

She spoke with a determination of tone very unusual
for her, and weak as she was, Ned was struck with the
energy of her voice, and the flush which excited feeling had
brought to her pale cheek.

He had thought himself of what she proposed ; indeed it
was impossible for a youth of his thorough honesty of na-
ture not to think of it ; yet it seemed a little hard, a little
more than could justly be expected from him, to have to
begin life with such a drag upon him, and he needed all
Katie's firm decision as to what was right, to convert his
thought into a full-formed purpose, from which he would
have been glad to escape in any way that would have
satisfied his conscience. So he still tried whether nothing
could be said on the other side.

" But, you know, Katie, it is rather hard on me, who had
nothing to do with borrowing the money, to have to work,
and work, year after year, just to refund it, and by the
time I can possibly be able to pay them, the people will

162

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

•e never
I to pay
she said

u cannot

f 1 were
to make
that just

ihey have

• unusual

with the

aeling had

indeed it
sty of na-
rd, a little
0 have to
leeded all
mvert his
he would
)uld have
jr nothing

!, who had
to work,
id by the
leople will

most likely have forgotten all about it, and probably have
gut over their loss and their need of the money."

" That is not your affair, at all events, Ned. You have
only to do what is right. Suppose these speculations had
succeeded, and papa had lived some years longer, and made
a great deal of money, wouldn't you have thought it very
unjust if you had been prevented from inheriting it ?"

" Of course," unwillingly admitted Ned, who saw c^uito
well what was coming next*

" Well then, I think, as you often say, it 's a poor rule
that won't work both ways. You see, in that case, you
would have had the advantage of the money that was
borrowed. And as it would have been unjust to be pre-
vented from inlieriting money if there had been any, isn't
it just to inherit the responsibility of paying the debts
too."

Ned did not reply to this ; he saw the force of the argu-
ment, and oould not controvert it. Presently Katie said,
more earnestly —

" Oh, Ned, if I only were able to do anything to earn
money, I would work so hard to clear off everything, so
that no one would have it in his power to say he had been
wronged by papa. I am sure you never could be comfort-
able yourselT in the possession of anything, if you had the
feeling that there were people who could say that your
father had, even unintentionally, deprived them of what
was justly theirs."

"No, Katie, I'm sure I should not; I think myself

you are in the right about it. But there would be no

occasion for you to work, even if you were likely to make

163

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

anything worth while," he said, with a smile, " for surely,
if I have health and strength, it won't be such very hard
work for me to make as much as would clear off what of
the debt will be left. I '11 see Wykeham again, and tell
him to do all he can to get as much cleared off as possible
now, and I suppose you and I can manage well enough
with mamma's money, so that we shouldn't want any
allowance."

" Oh, no ! " said Katie, " I wouldn't have it, if you can
possibly get your education finished without it."

Mr Grey and Helen, who were taken into consultation,
highly approved of the resolution Ned and Katie had come
i ■>, and on the following day Ned saw Mr "Wykeham, and
desired him to give the creditors an assurance of immedl':ite
jjayment of as rauch of their claims as it might turn out
there was property to meet, and to inform them of his own
firm intention of seeing tliem fully satisfied as soon as he
should be in a position to do so.

Mr Grey also insisted that his house was to be the home
of both Ned and Katie for the present, and that Katie was
to consider herself his daughter imtil Ned should be able
to take her to a home of his own. " And after that," he
added kindly, " if I live and she will stay."

Helen added her own warm assurances of the great

pleasure it would be to her to have Katie with her always ;

and the latter, knowing that she could fully trust the

sincerity of both, gratefully accepted their invitation,

resolving in her own mind that she would endeavour to be

of as much use to them as possible, though the kindness

was one which sh*^. felt she never could repay. Martha

164

A SUDDEN SHOCK'.

r surely,
ery hard

what of

and tell
3 possible
1 enough
vant any

f you call

isultation,
( had come
ehani, and
iinmedl"-te
Lt turn out
of his own
soon as he

the home
Katie was
lid he ahle
;r that," he

the great
er always ;

trust the

[invitation,

Ivour to he

|i kindness

Martha

was to he taken in too, to her great satisfaction, as the
Greys' own servant was about to leave them. Helen
laughingly observed to Katie that even if her coming had
been an inconvenience, instead of a pleasure, which it was,
the advantage of getting Martha, whose efficiency and
faithfulness as a servant she so well knew, would more
than counterbalance it, as it would give her so much more
time to attend to her own multifarious duties. " Between
you and Martha, I shall have nothing to do at home at
all," she said, when Katie had been enumerating the things
she wished to be left to her management.

Snap and Daisy were of course also included in the
transfer, and soon got accustomed to their new home. The
former, indeed, seemed to find the warm stone door-step a
very comfortable resting-place and tower of observation,
where he could lie in the sun, and terrify any adventurous
chickens who came round from the yard to scratch up
the seeds that had been newly sown in the little flower-
garden.

Ned's prospects and outward career were destined to be
a good deal modified by this change in their circumstances.
His father had wished him to become a lawyer, so that he
might eventually take him into business with himself, but
Ned's own inclinations had never been in favour of it, so
that he was now desirous of ralinquishing it, and with it,
the idea of completing his regular University course, which
would only, as he said, be taking up time, now so valuable
to him. His talents pointed chiefly in the direction of
mathematics, and his tastes were in favour of an out-door
iife^ zo that the profession which had most charms for him,

165

A SUDDEN shock:

as well as the most likely one, was that of an engineer or
surveyor. Mr Grey advised him, if he had made up his
mind to it, to begin at once studying for it privately, until
he should find out some competent professional man with
whom he might enter on its practical study. In the
rr^eantime, by Mr Grey's advice, he wrote to his father's
only surviving brother in Scotland, the only near relative
he now had, for on his mother's side there were none but
distant ones. Mr Johnstone had kept up very little com-
munication with his brother ; but Mr Grey thought that it
was only right that the latter should be informed of his
death and of the circumstances in which his family had
been left by it, hoping that as the uncle was a man of some
influence and property, he might be able to do something
to forward his nephev/'s p"^ospects.

Ned, for his part, expected to be able to defray the
expenses of his own preparation for business, and to supply
the very small personal needs of Katie, from the sum of
money leit them by their mother, which, though com-
paratively small, would, he thought, with rigid economy,
last until he should, as he hoped, be in receipt of an in-
dependent income.

Mr Winstanley was one of his father's cred'iors, though
not to a very large amount. When informed of Ned's
determination, he warmly applauded it, as being highly
creditable to his honour and honesty, and when he met
Ned a day or two afterwards, he told him. that he was
willing to cancel that portion of his claim, nearly half,
which could not be met in the present appropriation of the
property. Ned and Katie thought this a remarkable in-

i66

iiigineer or
ide up his
itely, until

man with
iT. In the
lis father's
3ar relative
} none but

little com-
ight that it
med of his
family had.
lan of some
» something

defray the
to supply
le sum of
ough corn-
economy,
of an iu-

)rs, though
1 of Ned's
ng highly
en he met
lat he was
early half,
tion of the
Lrkahle in-

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

stance of generosity in a man who was considered to be
pretty sharp in looking after his own ; they did not know,
though perhaps Katie suspected, how much Arthur's
representations had had to do with it, nor, moreover,
that it was money which Mr Winstanley had long regarded
as almost hopelessly lost.

" I am glad the bo/ has acted so well," observed Mr Grey
to his daughter, after they had been expressing their
satisfaction with Mr Winstanley 's generosity. "It is a
disgrace to a Christian country, the system of legalised
robbery that goes on, when men borrow, with their eyes
open, for speculating purposes, to an extent far beyond what
they have any reason to think they shall be able to repay,
trusting that when the worst comes to the worst, as it \i
sure to do sooner or later, they will extricate themselves
clear out of it by making an assignment and getiing a dis-
charge. And then, however much money they may make
after their second start, in nine cases out of ten, they never
even think of the just debts that remain unpaid, and of the
suffering ihey have caused, and may still be causing, those
whose imprudence, or inexperience, or perhaps friendly
desire to oblige, beguiled them into entrusting them with
what they could yet ill afford to lose. In many cases it's
just as bad as, or worse than, when a young man robs his
employer to retrieve his losses at the gambling-table, hoping
to pay it back, as one of my old college companions did
and thought, and was transported for it, poor fellow, while
these men escape with impunity. Of course I would not
venture to say as much to Ned, lest he should think I was

reflecting on his father, for I don't believe he meant to do

167

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

■f

anytliinff of that kind, and Mr Wykeham told me that when

he got Dr Elliott's warning about the state of his health,

he was very anxious to sell his interest in one of his best

speculations in order to put things a little straight, and

was only prevented because he could not at the time do it

advantageously."

The Winstanleys showed no diminution of their kindness

to Katie. Clara had done everything that affectionate regard

cuuld suggest to cheer and comfort her, and when, as the

warm weather came on, the languor and prostration, from

which she had never recovered, became still more noticeable,

Mrs Winstanley insisted on the execution of a project she had

for some time had in view, — that of taking Katie, with her

own family, on a long-planned ^dsit to the sea-side. Helen

thought the scheme an excellent one, and would not hear

of Katie's declining it, which she was strongly disposed to

do on the score of the expense it would entail upon her

friends. But when Helen represented to her that it would

give Mrs Winstanley as great pleasure to do the kindness as

it could to Katie to accept it, so she overcame her scruples,

and yielded, with no small delight in her heart at the

prospect of seeing so much that would be new to her, and

especially the sea, of which she had so often dreamed and

beard both from her mother and Mrs Duncan. The only

alloy to her pleasure was, that Helen w^as not going too.

Helen wou!d certainly have liked it very well, had the

trip been practicable for her ; though, much more than

for herself, she coveted it for her father, who was feeling

the inroads of age and the prostration due to unremitting

w^ork, and whom the sea air and the change would have

168

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

braced and invigorated. But as, with their slender income,
the expense put it out of the question, she wisely turned
away her thoughts from the subject, feeling that she could
trust the Disposer of their lives with this as with every
other interest. She told Katie, smiling, that her turn
would perhaps come next, and as, at any rate, she wished
to visit her sister in the autumn after Katie came back, it
would not have done for her to be away from home so long ;
and she took fully more pleasure than Katie herself did
in preparing her outfit ; and she assisted her to remodel her
slender stock of dresses, so as to make them look as well as
they could, for Katie was determined not to spend a penny
more in this or any other way than was absolutely
necessary. Helen, indeed, had some trouble in prevail-
ing upon her to procure the additions to her wardrobe
which she deemed needful, and Mrs "Winstanley consider-
ately sent her a present of a neat dark-gray travelling-
dress, made as nearly as possible similar to Clara's, — a
thing Katie would never have thqught of ordering for
herself.

The evening before they were to start, Helen accompanied
Katie as she went to say good-bye to her friend Mrs Dun-
can. The day had been very sultry, but in the evening a
cool breeze had sprung up, which enabled Katie with less
fatigue to take a longer walk than she was usually equal
to now. She had not been in that vicinity, which was that
of her old home, since the house had been shut up and the
furniture sold ; and its deserted, desolate appearance, as
she passed it, awaking a host of dear old associations, did
not fail to bring tears to her eyes, though Mrs Duncan's

169

A SUDDEN SHOCK.

cheerful, kindly greeting goon dispelled the shadow that
had come over her face.

" I 'd like well a glint o' the bonnie blue sea, mysel','*
eaid Mrs Duncan, as she was bidding her good-bye ; " I used
to be aye glad to come in sight o' it again when I had been
for awhile away, as at the sight and hearing o' what used
to seem like an old friend, with its deep solemn murmur
aye sounding in our ears. Well, it doesna much matter,
for though we are told there will be " no more sea " in the
country we are looking for, still there will be no longing
unsatisfied there, we may be sure o' that ! And much
good may the sea do you, my dear, and I hope you '11 come
back a hantle rosier and stronger than you go away ! "

" Helen," said Katie, as they slowly walked homewards
in the dusk, " I feel as if I were selfish in having so much
uleasure at the thought of going when you are not, and
yrt I do so wish you were going too."

" It wouldn't be selfish, it would be ungrateful, if you
■were not to enjoy as much as you can a pleasure God puts
in your vay. As it is not put in mine at present, it cannot
be best for me, just now at any rate. But I shall enjoy
your letters while you are away, and think how much you
will have to tell me when you come back."

" Yes, indeed," said Katie, " and I '11 try and remember
everything to tell you about. And you and Ned will both
write to me about all that is going on her*:^"

low til at

, mysel',"
; " I used
had been
,rliat used
murmur
ih matter,
ja"inthe
0 longing
^nd much
3U '11 come

^^ay

\»

lomewards
g 80 much
|e not, and

Cul, if you

God puts

it cannot

ihall enjoy

much you

remember
. will both

CHAPTER XV.

£l^e 5ta-Sibc.

'• He sat at the feet of Nature
In love and wonder meek ;
Had he then learned to listen.
Or had she learned to speak t "

T was a lovely morning in the beginning of
August when the travellers set out. They
were to drive to Ashby in the Winstanleys'
carriage, to take the train there, and in order to
be in time they had to start very early. Wlien the
carriage called at the Manse to take up Katie, the
mill-bells were just ringing for six o'clock, and the
drive was thus accomplished while the air was fresh
and cool, and the heavy dew still subdued the dust.
They had time, while waiting at the station, to
supplement their necessarily hasty breakfast, and
then the train came in sight, gave its shrill whistle,
stopped, just allowed them time to get comfortably
settled in their places, and was bearing them away
out of sight of the Ashby steeples, before Katie could

171

T/{£ SEAS WE.

realise that they were really off into what, to her, was an
unknown world.

She had scarcely ever, since she was old enough to
remember, been out of Lynford, at least to any considerable
distance, and every mile of the journey therefore disc^ )sed
some object of interest quite new to her. They had fine
weather during the whole of the journey, a long one from
our Western Canada to the seaboard. It would scarcely
be possible fully to describe Katie's intense enjoyment of
the beautiful sail down the broad St Lawrence, with its
ever-shifting panorama of lovely islands and white foaming
rapids. Montreal, with its imposing mountain background,
its masses of buildings, lofty towers, and forest of shipping,
powerfully impressed her inexperienced imagination, which
had never before been able to picture what a great city was
like ; and as they rattled along over the hard streets and be-
tween the tall houses, to the hotel where they were to spend
the night, she sat in perfect silence, gazing wdth excited
interest on the crowds of passers-by, and the other charac-
teristics of the scene, all so new to her untravelled senses.

They spent the next forenoon in visiting the cathedral
and other sights of interest, and started in the middle of
the day for Island Pond, thinking the whole journey to
Portland too fatiguing, especially to Katie, to be performed
tliroughout in a single day. The excitement seemed for the
time to have given her new energy, but for that very reason
it was the more necessary to be careful, lest the demand it
was making on her strength should tell upon her seriously
afterwards. Pleasant as was their route during the after-
noon, among the blue windings of the St Francis and the

172

THE SEA-SIDE

was ..n

>ugli to
Iderable
[isc^ )sed
tiad fine
)ne from
scarcely
/•ment of
with its
foaming
kgroimd,
3liipping,
)n, which
i city was
^s and be-
to spend
excited
sr charac-
senses.
athedral
iddle of
iiirney to
iiformed
for the
reason
iinand it
leriously
e after-
and the

Richelieu, she was almost glad when they came to their
evening stopping-place, where, however, she soon lost the
sense of fatigue in refreshing slumber. She was called
almost before daylight next morning, to be ready for tlie
early train. Looking from the high window of her room,
she beheld in its quiet unearthly beauty, what seemed
to her more like a dream than a reality, — the lake lying
still and glassy below, studded with its fairy isles, and
the early haze, as it rolled away at the moment, lending
an ideal grandeur jiast conception to the hills that rose
behind againsc the rosy and golden tints of the early
morning sky. However, she had not long leisure to
admire the exquisite picture, for Clara and she were
hurried down by the warning signal almost before they
were ready. Then there was another delightful fore-
noon's journey among the pine-covered Green Mountains
of Vermont, and after that among the grand rugged
summits of the White Mountains, which, much as they
delighted Katie, disappointed her just a little in the par-
ticular' of height, though this, perhaps, is a general ex-
perience with those who are new to mountain scenery.
At last, the train, leaving the mountains behind, brought
them once more into populous regions, and, suddenly, at
length there flashed out upon their gaze the broad harbour
of Portland, its blue breezy waters dotted with snowy sails
of all shapes and sizes, and, seen for a moment, looming
away in the blue distance, the sea ! Portland itself is not
on the open seaboard, but the party, none of the junior
members of which had ever been before in the " forest
city," found plenty to admire in the fine avenues of stately

173

THE SEA-SIDE.

trees which embower the streets, and the imposing resi-
dences, witli their tasteful grounds, which they passed in
the course of their short drive tlirough it.

They had still a further stage, though a short one, to
traverse by rail, before they arrived within driving distance
of their destination, and it was only when they were
approaching their intended quarters, that Katie had,
from the carriage windows, at last a full view of " the
great and wide sea," stretching away, in its blue expanse,
into the infinite distance.

" "Well, Katie, does it satisfy your expectations ] " asked
Arthur, who himself could fully sympathise with the feel-
ing that crimsoned her cheek and made her eyes sparkle
80 brightly as she leaned forward and gazed out intently.

" I will tell you by and bye. I can't take it all in yet,"
she said, with a smile ; and, indeed, she never cared to
speak when any grand or beautiful object was exciting her
admiration, at least on the first occasion.

They arrived just as the gong of the hotel was sounding
the summons to tea, and groups of people were approaching
from various quarters, and hastening in. After hurriedly
changing their dusty dresses, they gladly went in to the
refreshing meal, which looked very inviting in its sea-side
abundance of iish, fruit, rolls, and biscuits of every variety,
that covered the long tables in the large light dining-saloon,
whose windows commanded a full view of the ocean.
Katie thought she had never enjoyed a tea bo much, and
was quite unconscious of the scrutiny the new-comei*a
underwent from their neighbours at table, and of the half-
pitying glances which were directed to herself

174

THE SEA-SIDE.

J resi-
sed in

»ne, to
istance
r were
} had,
f « the
ipanse,

' asked
he feel-
sparkle
ently.
in yet,"
.ared to
ing her

lunding
mching
irriedly
to the
ea-side
irariety,
saloon,
ocean,
ch, and
■comers
e half-

Aa soon as tea was over, disclaiming all idea of fatigue,
which she was still too excited to feel, she went down to
the beach with Arthur and Clara, who were as anxious as
lierself to be closer to the waves, and feel their feet really
on " the sands," which, left by the receding tide, were at
the time solid and firm as a marble pavement. Out ot
consideration to Katie, the others resisted the disposition to
have a run, or even a waik, on the tempting surface, and
80, sitting down in an old boat that lay stranded high and
dry above the tide-mark, they resigned themselves to listen
to the mysterious mufiled roar of the ocean, and watcli
the bright tints of the clear August sunset gradually fading
out in the sky that overarched the waste of waters.

" Just to think, Katie," said Arthur after they had sat
for a good while in silence, " that there is nothing but
water — one wave just like another — between us now and
your beloved Scotland. Don't you feel inclined to get a
little boat and set out ? If I go to the old country this
fall, as they talk of my doing, it will be some of that very
water I shall cross. There is something strangely fascin-
ating in the idea of being beside an ocean that washes the
shores of Britain and France, and Spain and Africa — places
that seem more like a dream than a reality to us over here.
Well, I hope to see them all some day ! "

" I 'm sure I shouldn't care to see Africa," said Clara, " a
dry, hot, sandy place where nothing grows ! "

" Oh, Clara, Clara ! " said Arthur, laughing, " that comes
of your continual story-books, instead of useful reading.
If you had read Dr Livingstone now, you wouldn't have
made such a speech as that ! Have you read it, Katie ? "

175

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(716) 872-4503

THE SEA-SIDE.

" No ; I heard Mr Grey and Helen talking about it."

"Well, you ought to put it down for reading next
winter. I '11 bequeath it to you when I go away. Africa,
in its natural features, must be as interesting as either of
the adjoining continents; but then, of course, there isn't
the charm of history, and association with human life,
which gives to travelling its greatest interest, and draws
our hearts to any locality. So, I confess, there are a good
many places I should like to see first."

" Palestine, for instance," said Katie ; " there is no place
I should think half so interesting as that"

They were all very quiet again for a while ; then Arthur
exclaimed — " Look, there is the young moon ! "We shall
have a full moon while we are here ; isn't that glorious ?
What are you doing, Clara?" he added, observing her
gravely nodding her head three times. " Oh, I know ; —
wishing ! weren't you, you foolish child ? "

" Yes," confessed Clara.

" And whait did you wish for, pray V*

" Oh, I shan't tell you that ! That would break the
charm. Did you wish, Katie ? "

" No," said Katie, " I wouldn't know what to wish for,
even if I thought it would be of any use."

" Why have you no wishes at all, Katie ? " said Arthur,
surprised.

" I should wish Helen were here, if it were possible,"

she replied, smiling. "And I suppose there are a good

many things I might wish for, if I were to try. But I

can't tell whether they would be good for me. And it

seems to me wrong, as well as foolish, to do such things, as

176

THE SEA-SIDE.

out it."
ding next
y. Africa,
D either of
there isn't
uman life,
and draws
) are a good

I is no place

then Arthur
i "We shall
at glorious?
►serving her
, I know ;—

break the

to wish for,

[said Arthur,

|re possible,"

are a good

try. But I

le. And it

Lch things, aa

if we could get what we want in any other way than from
God, and as if we could not always pray to Him for what
we want."

"OL, but then, it is little trifling sort of things one
wishes for," argued Clara, " not things one would like to
pray for."

" But isn't it God who gives us everything, Clara dear ?
And I read, not long ago, that nothing that troubles us is
too small to pray for ; and about a good minister who
prayed for his horse's recovery when it was sick."

" Oh ! " said Clara, " I wonder he wasn't ashamed."

" Why should he, " replied Katie, " when Christ tells us
that * even a sparrow does not full to the ground without
our Father's permission ? ' " And as she spoke she vividly
remembered the time when that text first shed light and
comfort into her own mind.

" WeU, Katie, you are the oddest girl," said Clara, — a
speech that was her usual retort when Katie's arguments
had left her nothing more to say ; and Arthur, who had
not joined in the discussion, presently remarked that it was
time Katie was thinking of taking some rest.

Next day her fatigue, at last, asserted itself, though not

to such an extent as it would have done in a less bracing

atmosphere. As it was, however, she felt quite unable to

get up till the middle of the day, and then she was content

to sit quietly for the rest of it in the most retired corner of

the piazza, watching the restless ocean and the groups of

visitors lounging about, or passing up and down the beach. ,

She soon made acquaintance with the chihlren who were

romping around, especially some little ones dressed, like

177 ii

)

FPr!r

THE SEASIDE.

W\ !

I i

herself, in deep mouriiing, who, with their mother, a very
delicate, sad-looking young woman, — apparently a widow,
— ^interested her very much. The latter sat gazing listlessly
at the sea, a book lying idly in her hands, seemingly as
much indisposed to move as Katie herself; but gradually,
by means of the fancy which the children took to Katie,
she and the lady came to form a slight acquaintance.

The rest of the party were away in various directions
nearly all day : in the morning, bathing ; and in the after-
noon, exploring the beach and the neighbouring woods.
Arthur and Clara came back full of the results of their
tour of observation, and Caroline, always sociable and
winning, had already made the acquaintance of some young
ladies, with whom she seemed to be already on intimate
terms, for she started after tea for a long walk with them
and some gentlemen friends of theirs, whose names and
position, however, Mrs Winstanley took care to ascertain
before consenting that Caroline should join them. As they
were pronounced " highly respectable," on the unquestion-
able authority of a fashionable lady-friend whom Mrs
Winstanley had arranged to meet there, she was quite
satisfied.

It was some time before it was thought advisable for
Katie to bathe, and then she was not permitted to do so
oftener than once in two or three days, since, much as she
enjoyed it, it was considered the shock, so frequently re-
peated, might be too severe for her. However she usually
went down when the others did, and amused herself by
Avatching the bathers ; or by wandering along the beach,
k)okijig at the curious jelly-fish left stranded by the tide,

178

THE SEA-SIDE.

ler, a very
J a widow,
g listlessly
imingly as
gradually,
: to Katie,
ance.

J directions
n the after-
ring woods,
dts of their
ociahle and
some young
on intimate
k with them
1 names and
to ascertain
Im. As they
unquestion-
whom Mrs
was quite

Ivisahle for
Led to do so
[much as she
[equently re-
she usually
herself by
the beach,
I by the tide.

and wondering whether there ever could have been any
animation in such inert masses of matter ; or she watched
the pretty little sea-birds as they ran out after the retiring
waves, picking up their prey, and retreating just as the
1' turning billow came rolling in upon them. When she
was tired, she generally took refuge, with a book, under the
shady side of an old boat, which screened her from the rays
of the sun, and even from the observation of most passers-
by, while she had the full advantage of the fresh cool air
from the sea ; and its steady murmur, to which she liked
so much to listen, was alway sounding in her ear. She
usually remained there whUe the others took their brisk
walk after bathing, and then returned with them to the
house to rest before dinner, when she Jiad another quiet
hour's reading. She got through a good deal in this way,
and Arthur kept her well supplied with books, having, as
Clara said, brought down a " small library " with him.
They were chiefly books, too, that contained interesting
information, and real food for thought ; so that her reading
was not like most of the kind that was done there, merely
"killing time,"

Sometimes the afternoon was so hot that the sands
seemed to be enveloped in a quivering veil of heat as they
glittered intensely white and bright against the vivid blue
of the sea ; and then they were all glad to rest, either in the
shady piazza, or in some of the cool darkened sitting-rooms
of the hotel. One of these sultry afternoons ended in a
thunder-storm, which came on during the tea-hour, so
grand that the dining-saloon was instantly vacated, and

all the inmates of the house crowded to the front piazza,

179

rHE SEASIDE.

intent now on the sullen glare that rested on the sea be-
neath the lowering sky, now on the grand march and meet-
ing of the majestic thunder-clouds, anon on the crash of
thunder and the vivid lightning when they came in contact ;
and then, when the rain had descended with its tremendous
down-pour, on the bright, beautiful rainbow that arched
the sky, as the sun once more began to gleam through the
parting clouds.

Occasionally their afternoons were varied, when it was
cooler, by little expeditions into the woods, fragrant with
the sweet fern and other aromatic plants and fuU of a
luxuriant crop of whortle-berries. They were generally
joined in these excursions by two or three girls who had
become pretty good friends with Clara, and even with
Katie, though her shyness and delicacy, as well as the
slight peculiarity in her appearance, rather tended to
isolate her from intimate acquaintanceship with those of
her own age. Clara and Arthur, however, remained faith-
ful to their friend, no matter who might be of the party,
and with their society she was always right well content.
It was not so with Caroline, who was more easily influenced
by the opinion of those around her. Slie had always been
kind to Katie at home, in a sort of patronising way, partly
from compassionate interest and partly from real liking.
But here she soon noticed the curious and sometimes con-
temptuous glances that were directed towards Katie,
especially among the " set" into which she herself had got.
The girls in it were chiefly city belles, spoiled a good deal
by the artificial atmosphere in which they moved, and
Caroline saw a certain " dash " and " style " about them

1 80

THE SEASIDE.

be sea be-
and nieet-
e crash of
in contact ;
remendous
hat arched
hrough the

hen it was
igrant with
i fuU of a
3 generally
Is who had
even with
well as the
tended to
th those of
ained faith-
the party,
lell content,
influenced
.ways been
ay, partly
•eal liking,
(times con-
■ds Katie,
ilf had got.
good deal
oved, and
)out them

which she, brought up chiefly in the country, did not
possess, and greatly envied. Her own natural grace and
greater simplicity rendered her true taste really more at-
tractive ; but, unaware of this, she tried instead to imitate
her companions, and was extremely sensitive to anything
that excited their ridicule, however unjust. So she rather
avoided any open intimacy with Katie, though she could
certainly have given no good reason for doing so, except
the fear lest she might be rallied about it by the girl'
who talked chiefly nonsense, for want of anything else to
say. Katie, however, who was always content to admire
Caroline from a distance, without seeking to engross her,
scarcely noticed the desertion, or attributed it merely to
the claims which her new acquaintances, among whom she
was a general favourite, made upon her attention. And as
little did Katie, who scarcely ever now thought of her
appearance at all, notice any of the meaning glances oc-
casionally directed towards her. Arthur, indeed, who was
always on the watch, took care that no one should dare,
with impunity, to venture on any such manifestation
towards Katie, in his presence, definite enough to be taken
notice of by her at least.

CHAPTER XVI.

orns in i^t Wu^.

' All turn to sweet, but most of all

That, bitterest in the cup of pride.
When hopes presumptuous fade and fall.
Or friendship scorns ur>, duly tried."

N tlie second Sunday of their stay at the sea-
side, morning service was conducted in the
chapel by a young clergyman of the Church
of England, who had arrived in the end of the
preceding v eek. His sennon was simple, but very
earnest and impressive, and somehow reminded
Katie more of Mr Grey and Helen than anything
she had heard since she parted from them. She
noticed that the preacher looked far from strong, as
if he w^ere only recovering from some severe illness,
and it seemed to be as much as he could do to get
throuL'h the service.

In the afternoon, after the early dinner, Katie
stole quietly away — avoiding the piazza, with its
noisy groups — to the beach, and sat down to read, en-
sconced in the shelter of her usual place of retreat She

182

I I

ly at the sea-

ucted in the

the Church

end of the

lie, but very

reminded

anything

em. She

strong, as

ere illness,

do to get

^ner, Katie
with its
read, en-
peat She

THORNS IN THE iVA V.

had her Testament and her " Christian Year " with her, or
rather Helen's, which she had brought on account of its
conveniently small size. She had not been very long
there, and was sitting gazing dreamily at a large vessel
bearing away on the horizon, and wondering what Ned and
Helen were doing just then, when she heard voices ap-
proaching, and recognised Caroline's laugh. She was just
going to emerge from her hiding-place, when she heard the
Toiee also of Lieutenant Ainslie, a young officer who had
become particularly attentive to Caroline, and was now
accompanying her ; so she remained still, hoping that they
would not notice her as they passed on, for she instinctively
shrank from Mr Ainslie's rather supercilious stare. As
they approached, she, of course, could not avoid hearing
their conversatioUi Mr Ainslie was saying —

" I was coming up to you this morning to offer you a
drive, but you were discoursing so amiably with that
charming little friend of yoUrs in black, that I thought it
a pity to interrupt the Ute a Ute. Odd-looking little girl
that, cousin — is she ? but I should think she must be
something of a bore at times."'

Poor Caroline had not independence of character enough
to treat this speech as it deserved ; she was always desirous
of pleasing the person she happened to be with, and per-
haps more so in this instance than usual. So she replied,
with, of course, no idea that Katie was within hearing.

" Oh, no, she is no relation ; mamma brought her here
out of kindness. One must feel sorry for her, you know,
being deformed and having lost her parents, though she is,
as you say, a little tiresome sometimes."

183

THORNS IN THE IV A V.

Tlie lieutenant replied with an empty compliment on
her amiability, and then they forgot all about Katie for the
rest of their walk. But poor Kutie had heard what could
not fail to wound her acutely. She had so loved and
admired Caroline that it gave her a strange throb of pain
to hear her talk so carelessly and superciliously about her-
self, for it is perhaps as keen a pang as a girl of her age can
suffer, to know that a friend older than herself, to whom
she is enthusiastically attached, has spoken unkindly of her
to others. Caroline hatl said nothing that was positively
untru3 ; but the whole tone of her speech chilled poor
Katie to the heart ; and then that cruel word " deformed "
oppressed her with a vague dull sense of misery. She had
known and resigned herself to the knowledge that she was
not, and never could be, exactly like others ; but the word
*' deformed " was so harsh, and implied something positively
repulsive, that Katie could not bear the thought of it
without very acute pain. She sat for some time per-
fectly still, but with an oppressive sense of wretchedness
weighing on her heart ; and then a burst of tears gave
her relief, and her view of things gradually brightened
a little in the cheerful calmness of Nature around her.
She read a little in her Testament and her "Christian
Year," finding comfort in both, and then, as the after-
noon was now cooler, she walked slowly along the beach
to some rocks which formed a secluded resting-place out
of the way of the gayer promenaders, and which were
the usual boundary of her walks. Here she sat for long,
scarcely noting how the time was passing, watching the
sun gradually descending in the clear bright sky, or the

184

- :MVt I

Hment on

,tie for the

rhaX could

loved and

ob of pain

ibout her-

ler age can

', to whom

idly of her

positively

died poor

lefomicd "

She had

at she was

) the word

positively

gilt of it

time pcr-

tchedness

ears gave

rightened

and her.

Christian

e after-

e beach

•lace out

ch were

Ifor long,

ling the

or the

THORNS IN THE IVA V.

white coil of the waves as they rolled Up to her feet,

and then broke and disappeared. She had fallen on a

train of thought not usual with her, and neither happy nor

profitable. It seemed to her that things turned out so

strangely in the world, and the inequalities of life sadly

perplexed her. Her own gentle mother, who was so sweet

and good, — why had she always so much care and sorrow ;

while Mrs Winstanley, who could not be so good, seemed

never to have anything to cloud her prosperity ? Then

Helen, why had she to work so hard and deny herself many

pleasures, when Caroline, who was certainly her inferior in

real excellence, never knew an ungratified wish ? Ned and

Arthur too, how differently they were situated ! and as for

herself, — the thought was still too full of pain to dwell

upon, especially as she feared she was in danger of envious

feelings springing up in her heart. So she tried to turn

away her mind from what — she was conscious — was doing

her no good ; and presently there floated through it the

stanza : —

*' Then, like a half -forgotten strain,

Comes sweeping o'er thy heart forlorn,
What sunshine hours had taught in vain,
Of Jesus suffering shame and scorn."

And she opened her " Christian Year" to read over again that
hymn for Good Friday which had given her so much con-
solation and hope before. She laid down the book again,
and was steadily looking at the sea, thinking of what she
had read, when a slight sound near her roused her atten-
tion, and looking up, she was startled to see quite close to

her the gentleman who had conducted the service that

185

THORNS IN THE WA K

4 1

xnoming. He hod come unexpectedly upon her, and had
stood for a few minutea trying to read the expression of
the pale, sweet face, which had interested him in the
dining-saloon and the chapeL

" I hope I haven't startled you/' he said, smiling ; ** it
eeemed to me that I almoct knew you from having seen
you at the hotel ; and if you wiU allow me the liberty of
reminding youj I would suggest that it is time you were
thinking of going homb to tea, otherwise you may lose it"

His tone was so gentle and polite, and his manner so
pleasing, that Katie could not feel there was any intrusion
in his thus addressing her ; so she thanked him^ and got
up to follow his suggestion.

" Let me carry your books," he said, with the true polite-
ness which he always showed to every one, no matter how
lowly ; taking up, as he spoke, the books which had been
lying on a rock beside her. "You have been well em-
ployed, I see," he added, glancing first at the books and
then at her. " So you read the * Christian Year,' do you 1
It is a great favourite of mine."

" I like it very much," said Katie, in a low tone, " though
I don't understand it all yet"

" No," he replied ; "one has to live a good while to do that"

Katie wondered a little what he meant As they walked
he kept turning over the pages in an absent mood. Sud-
denly he started, and said in a surprised tone—

" Helen Grey ! is that your name ? "

" No," said Katie, wondering that he showed so much

interest in it " That is not my book ; it belongs to a friend

of mine." >

1 86 :i^

, and had
)re88iou of
Lin ill tho

dling ; " it
aving seen
3 liberty of
1 you wero
ly lose it"
manner bo
y intrusion
ni) and got

true polite-
matter how
h had been
1 well em-
books and
I* do you ?

3, " though

I do that"
walked
l)od. Sud-

Bd much
bo a friend

THORNS IN THE W^A V.

" Indeed ! she is not here, is she ? Where does she —
where do you live 1 "

"At Lynford," Katie answered. " She is there now."

" Ah, then it is the same ! I had the pleasure of making
Miss Grey's acquaintance once when she was visiting her
sister ; and I was surprised at seeing her name here."

"Oh, do you know Helen? I am so glad ! " exclaimed
Katie, to whom the stranger was scarcely a stranger, now
they had Helen for their common friend. He went on : —

" My name is Russell ; perhaps you may have heard her
speak of me, since you seem to know her so well ? "

Katie was obliged to confess that she never had ; at
which he looked, she thought, a little disappointed. He
went on to explain : —

" I have been for a long time threatened with consump-
tion. At that time I was obliged to give up my studies for
the ministry, which were almost completed ; and I was
under the care of her brother-in-law, whom I found a good
friend as well as a good doctor ; and as I was often at his
house, I saw a good deal of Miss Grey then."

" I wonder she never spoke of you ; but I didn't know
her so well then. It was after that that she did me so
much good."

" Ah ! she did me good too. I was distrustful and hope-
less, and despairing almost at that time, for my health
seemed ruined and my prospects dark ; and she helped me
to find out the only comfort in such circumstances, which
of course I knew, but could not so well realise before."

Katie looked up inquiringly, but made no reply, so he

went on — ,^ .

187

THORNS IN THE IVA V.

" * Let not your heart be troubled ; ye believe in God ;
believe also in me.' Is not that the best thing to do in
trouble?"

The words smote Katie like a reproof for the faithless
murmuring in which she had been indulging. She as-
sented, and then said, after a short silence —

" I think Helen felt the need of that herself that spring,
for she seemed a good deal troubled for a time, and then
she said it was because she had been faithless, but that she
had learned now to trust God with all that concerned her."

After this Mr Russell was silent for a good while. As
they were getting near home he suddenly asked, " I sup-
pose your friend. Miss Grey, isn't likely to come here 1 "

** No," said Katie, with a sigh, " I wish she were. But
she is going to visit her sister after I go home. I live with
her and Mr Grey now."

" Oh, indeed ; then I shall probably meet her there, as I
have a church in that neighbourhood. My health is almost
restored, but I have had rather hard work lately, and am
come here for a little bracing."

They arrived just in time to go in to tea with the rest of

the people ; Katie would rather have done without hers

than gone in after every one was seated. After tea she

explained to Arthur and Clara, who had seen her come up

with her new friend, how the acquaintance had arisen,

passing over, as briefly as possible, all he had said about

Helen; for although she was romantic enough to have

made a conjecture of her own on the subject, she could not

bear that it should be referred to in the jesting manner

which Clara had caught from her new acquaintances,

1 88

i in God;
; to do in

e faithless
, She as-

■lat spring,
!, and then
it that she
2med her."
vhile. As
i, " I Slip-
here?"
vere. But
I live with

there, as I
1 is almost
y, and am

.he rest of
Ihout hers
' tea she
come up
id arisen,
lid about
to have
jould not
manner
lintances,

THORNS IN THE WA Y.

and which seemed to Katie only a profanation of things in
themselves pure and holy. Indeed, when she was obliged
to listen to the tirades of utter nonsense, — not even amusing,
— that went on, especially on Sunday evenings, among
Caroline's and Clara's new associates, she could not help
feeling that if her involuntary isolation had served no
other purpose than to keep her out of the range of such
frivolities, it had done her some good at any rate. It had
done her more good than that, and if £he had known the
contrast Mr Russell was drawing in his o^vvn mind, as he
paced up and do^vn, between the serious and sweet spirit-
ual beauty of the little invalid's pale face, and the com-
paratively vapid, inexpressive countenances of most of the
girls around her, she need not have feared ever being re-
pulsive to any one. Slie, however, had ceased to think
much of her afternoon's pain now ; her mind was too full
of her subsequent encounter, and of unavailing wishes —
stronger than ever — that Helen had only come.

Caroline was not in her usual spirits after her walk.
She had not found it so pleasant as she expected, and had
had a sort of misunderstanding with her cavalier. Katie
had been trying in her afternoon's meditations to solve
problems beyond our mortal capacities to prove, but it
might have helped a little to diminish her perplexities had
she known how much more really happy Helen Grey, and
even she herself, were, as they lay down to sleep that night
than the envied Caroline Winstanloy.

Mr Russell and Katie had many pleasant talks during

his stay. Helen was always a fruitful topic, and Mr

Russell gradually drew from Katie the history of their

189

TFIORNS IN THE IVAY.

intercourse, whicli interested him very much. With Arthur,
too, he of course soon got acquainted, and the acquaintance
speedily ripened into an intimacy, for they were drawn
together by great similarity of tastes, and the earnest manly
type of Mr Russell's Christianity, combined with his re-
finement, culture, and liberality of spirit, had a strong
influence over Arthur's still wavering mind. They often
discussed questions with which Arthur, from his speculative
turn, had been perplexing his mind, and though Mr Russell
could not show him the way out of all his perplexities, he
could at least lead him to the standing-ground which
satisfied himself. Katie, though she could not always fully
follow out the meaning of their discussions, enjoyed them
immensely, and infinitely preferred sitting in silenee
listening to such conversations, to taking any part in them
herself. For she always distrusted her own ability of
saying the right thing, and she felt Arthur was so safe
with such a guide as Mr RusselL

One evening, they had protracted their conversation till
the daylight had all faded away, and the full moon was
shedding a flood of almost golden glory across the sea — for
the " glorious moonlight " on which Arthur had calculated
had been for some time making the night more beautiful
than the day.

" It must have been on some such night as this," said

Mr Russell, " that Tennyson composed those lines in the

* Morte d^ Arthur ' — do you remember them, Winstanley ? —

beginning —

* The great brand
Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon.' **

190

TJIORNS IN THE WA V.

ith Arthur,
quaintance
'ere drawn
nest manly
ith his re-
el a strong
They often
speculative
Mr Russell
lexities, he
ind which
Iways fully
joyed them
in silenee
art in them
ability of
as so safe

'sation till
imoon was
le sea — for
Icalculated
beautiful

Ihis," said
les in the
lanley ? —

M Yes," said Arthur, " what a magnificent poem it is !
Could you go on with it ? I wish I could ! "

" No, I don't remember that part accurately ; but there

is a pi-ssage further on, by the way, that bears a little

on what we have been discussing, and the ending, about

the island valley of Vivilion, is very fine. Have you read

it, Miss Katie ? " he asked, turning to her — " No ? Well

then, I will try if I can give it to you." So he repeated.

with a voice that was low, but full of musical cadences —

" Then slowly answered Arthur from the barge :
* The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfils Himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should convert the world.
Comfort thyself : what comfort is in me ?
I have lived my life, and that which I have dona
May He within Himself make pure ! but thou,
If thou should'st never see my face again,
Pray for my souL More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice
Bise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life ^ithin the brain,
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
For so the whole round world is every way
Boun4 by gold chains about the feet of God.
But now, farewell, I am going a long way
With these thou seest, if indeed I go
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)
To the island valley of Avilion ;
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow.
Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns
And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea.
Where I wiU heal me of my grievous wound.' "

Katie forgot everything around her us she listened, and

191

f^Hii'

THORNS IN THE IV AV.

was conscious only of the exquisite music of the words she
heard, and the beauty of their meaning, which seemed to
collect and embody aspirations and thoughts that had
floated vaguely through her own mind, and which she
could now grasp in an intelligible form. Nor was it sur-
prising that the words, " where I will heal me of my
grievous wound," especially lingered in her memory. And
she still " sat rapt," like the original imaginary listeners,
while Mr Russell went on to speak of the exquisite touch
by which the author, in the conclusion of the poem, con-
nects the legend that Arthur would " come again " — an
expression, among many, of the deep-seated belief of the
world in an approaching Deliverer who is to inaugurate
a brighter age — with the peal of Christmas bells, when the
poet hears

** The clear church bells ring in the Christmas morn."

"When Katie went to sleep that night in the still moon-
light, she seemed, like the poet himself, "to sail with
Arthur towards that calm and happy * island of Avilion.' "

^Ir Russell preached again the following Sunday morn-
ing,, and at the request of some of the visitors it was arranged
that an open-air service should bo held in the afternoon, in
the woods, at a short distance from the hotel, at which he
agrtied to officiate, all the more that he felt his voice had
shared in the general strength he had gained in the rest
and bracing sea-air he had been enjoying.

Arthur, Katie, and Clara set out together for the place

of meeting. " Won't you come. Carry ? " said the latter, as

they passed Caroline lounging in the piazza. She hesitated,

and perhaps would have joined them, tut Mr Ainslie

192

•V^

vords she
eemed to
that had
hich she
18 it sur-
le of my
)ry. And
listeners,
aite touch
3ein, con-
;ain " — an
lef of the
naugurate
when the

prn."

ill moon-
sail with
vilion.' "
ay mom-
arranged
moon, in
hich ha
oice had
the rest

Ihe place
jatter, as
^sitated,
Ainslie

THORNS IN THE WA V.

interposed with some remark to the effect that she had
done her duty in going once to church, and that she surely
wouldn't deprive them of the music she had promised them,
— " Sacred music, you know," he added ; "you will keep
us all out of mischief too, if you stay ; " and Caroline was
easily persuaded to remain. As the others went on, Clara
was the only one who made any remark, saying, in a
vexed tone —

" I don't know what has come over Carry since we have
been here. She isn't half as nice as she is at home. I
shan't be sorry when we go, for that — and I don't like that
Mr Ainslie at all ! "

The place where the service was to be held was a plea-
sant spot, compa^tively clear, in the woods, yet shaded
by neighbouring foliage from the direct heat of the sun.
There was not a large congregation, so that the circle
around the preacher was not wider than his voice could
easily reach. Mr Russell read the evening service of his
church, and then preached from the words, "Heirs of
God and joint-heirs with Christ." He spoke simply,
but with great earnestness and directness, of the glorious
inheritance which Christ had won for all who would
receive it ; not immunity from certain penalties alone,
but salvation from the present power of sin, and im-
mediate entrance on the true eternal life, which begins
here and now, as soon as the heart chooses Christ for its
master. He said that Christians, even when they had
made their choice, did not sufficiently appreciate their in-
heritance, or expect nearly so much as Christ would give

them if they asked Him ; that He was ready to bestow

193 »

:^/>^'

<■■■:'

•■I:

THORNS IN THE WA Y.

Upon them a light and a strength, which, if they trusted in
it, would bear them up over " the waves of this troublesome
world," as certainly as His hand upheld the sinking Peter
on the sea of Galilee, and that every cross, as well as every
joy, would be a means of furthering that true progress
which is the real end of our sojourn in this world.

Katie eagerly drank in every word ; and many a time
afterwards the truths, and even the expressions, she heard
that afternoon came back freshly to her mind, mingled
with the scent of the sweet fern and bay which breathed
their fragrance in the air around her.

As they walked slowly home, Mr Russell overtook them,
and Arthur thanked him warmly for his sermon, saying he
should long remember it with pleasure, and, he trusted,
with profit also. Mr Russell spoke warmly of the pleasure
he had had in their society during his stay at the sea-dide,
and expressed his regret that he must bid them farewell
that evening, as he had to start early next morning on hia
return homeward. They all said good-bye with many
hopes of meeting again to renew so pleasant an intercourse,
and to Katie Mr Russell said, as he exchanged worths with
her for a moment apart, that he hoped to meet her friend
Miss Grey in September. With Arthur he had one last
earnest conversation before parting, and Katie hoped and
prayed that it might result in permanent good to one whom
she earnestly desired to see altogether a Christian.

Mrs Winstanley's party remained only a week after that,

and as the weather was now getting cold, they turned

their faces homeward with the less regret, though with

many pleasant recollections of their sea-side sojourn.

194

y trusted in
troublesome
nking Peter
rell as every
me progress
rid.

lany a time
s, she heard
id, mingled
ich breathed

2rtook them,

m, saying he

, he trusted,

the pleasure

tho sea-dide,

em farewell

ning on hia

with many

intercourse,

woiCa with

her friend

lad one last

hoped and

one whom

,n.

after that,
ley turned
ough with
(joum.

CHAPTER XVII.

Changes.

** Then lay on me whatever cross I need
To bring me there : I know thou canst not be
Unkind, unfaithful, or untrue to me."

ATIE found enough to occupy her mind
and engross her thoughts when she re-
turned home. A letter had been received,
during her absence, from her uncle in Scot-
land, wishing her brother to come to him for two
or three years, that he might have every possible
advantage in mastering the profession he had
chosen j during which time his uncle would himself
meet all necessary expenses. As he was a child-
less widower, he could not offer Katie, who he un-
derstood was an invalid, the comfortable home she
would require ; otherwise, he said, he would have
been delighted to see his niece over along with her
brother. Katie, while grateful for his kindness,
was very glad that she had not to deciie about an invita-
tion which she would have hesitated to accept, unless she

195

CHANGES.

had seen it to be her clear duty to do so. She had no wish,
moreover, to desert the kind friends who had provided her
with a home when she needed one ; and they would have
been equally unwilling to let her go.

However, it was clear that Ned should accept the advan-
tages that were offered him ; and Katie could not oppose it,
though she shrank from the separation involved in it. And
even were he to have remained in Canada, she knew they
must necessarily be much separated for the next few years ;
80 she bravely made up her mind to face the trial, which,
indeed, did not come single. Arthur had so far surpassed,
in his private studies, the standard which was required for
his entrance into a Canadian university, and was besides so
desirous of seeing the Old World, and availing himself of
its advantages, that his father consented to gratify hia
earnest wish to allow him to go at once to Oxford. Hia
mother trusted that his now greatly improved health and
strength would be able to stand the hard study into which
she was afraid he would plunge, and be sufficiently rein-
forced, from time to time, if he spent his vacations in
travelling. So it was arranged that Arthur and Ned
should start together on their voyage, towards the end of
September, and in preparation for that there was plenty
both to do and to think of. Clara, too, was to be imme-
diately sent away to " finish " her education at a fashion-
able city boarding-school ; so that all Katie's companiona
seemed to be leaving her at once. She did not allow her-
self to think how lonely she would be when they were all
gone, but kept her mind and time fuU of the work she had
to do for Ned, in providing as far as possible for his outfit.

196

CHANCES.

had no wish,
provided her
would have

)t the advan-
not oppose it,
d in it. And
e knew they
xt few years ;
trial, which,
'ar surpassed,
I required for
Nd& besides so
ig himself of
0 gratify hia
xford. Hia
id health and
into which
ciently rein-
vacations in
J and Ned
the end of
was plenty
0 be imme-
it a fashion-
companions
It allow her-
ey were all
lork she had
tr his outfit.

She would not hear, however, of Helen's visit being
postponed, though she unselfishly proposed to defer it until
Ned's departure. " And then it would be twice as lonely
when you are gone too ! " she said ; and the argument con-
vinced Helen that it was better to adhere to the original
arrangement. Katie, who had written fully about her
meeting with Mr Russell, was not suprised at the quietness
with which Helen had listened to her eager accounts of
him when she returned. Helen never began the subject
herself, but Katie noticed that she would listen to her in
silence for as long as she chose to go on ; and in her secret
heart she could not help suspecting that it would not be
long before she had to give up Helen too ! However, she
Bcud to herself that " sufficient for the day was the evil
thereof," and that she had enough to do for the present with
certainties, without troubling herself with probabilities.

After Helen had started on her visit, the days began to
pass for Katie with terrible rapidity : so much had to be
done, and there seemed so little time to do it in, though.
Helen had put everything in train, and Martha gave her
most efficient assistance. At length all was in readi-
ness— the last evening had come— and she could scarcely
believe that the next morning would see the travellers
set off on a journey that might separate them from her for
years ; and who could tell, indeed, whether or not an
earthly reunion was in store for them ?

Arthur came to bid her good-bye during the evening, just

as Ned bad gone to say his farewell to Mrs Duncan and his

friends at Pine Grove. He brought her, as a parting gift,

a little Bible, beautifully bound in purple velvet, with gold

197

CHANGES.

clasps ; which delighted her with its heauty, and of which
she was a good deal in need, her own Leing very much
worn ; while she wished Ned to take his mother's with him.

" I chose this for you," said Arthur, " because I did not
know of anything else you would like better, and because I
owe to you my first real appreciation of a book that I value
now more than I ever thought I should have done."

" I am so glad of that," said Katie, earnestly ; " and I
hope you will always value it, and take it as your guide."

*' I hope so," Arthur replied, very gravely ; " and if so, it
will be in a great degree owing to your example, and from
seeing what its guidance has been to you."

Katie was both thankful and yet troubled, for she could
not feel that she had any right to the distinction assigned
her ; . and then she exclaimed —

" Oh, how I wish I had something for you ; but I have
nothing that seems worth giving, except mamma's old copy
of the " Christian Year " — if you will take that ; but it is
rather faded, and old."

Arthur said he would be very happy to take it, if it were
not that he would be depriving her of what he knew she so
valued. But she said it would only be a pleasure to her if
he would keep it as a memento of their intercourse ; and
this he thereupon willingly agreed to do.

After her brother and the friend who had been almost
like a brother, were really off, and Clara, as it happened,
away before them, Katie felt very much the blankness and
desolation of the word "gone;" especially as so many
things were always recalling them, and making her realise
over and over again how much she missed them. But sho

198

id of wliich
very much
8 with him,
36 I did not
d because I
hat I value

)ne.
y ; " and I
lur guide."
and if so, it
e, and from

)r she could
3n assigned

but I have

I's old copy

; but it is

b, if it were
lew she so
to her if
[urse ; and

|en almost
lappened,
:ness and

I so many

IT realise

Eat sho

CHANGES.

wisely kept herself occupied with the various duties she
had undertaken to discharge for Helen, wliich were as
much as her strength was equal to ; and for the rest, sus-
tained herself by trying to act the part of a daughter to
Mr Grey in the long October evenings. Snap was always
her companion when she was alone, and he had now be-
come so much attached to her that he rarely, with his own
consent, lost sight of her for many minutes. And thus the
time passed, not so very slowly after all, till a few weeks
brought the welcome tidings of the arrival of the young
travellers at their destination, and in good spirits, after a
pleasant and prosperous voyage. The next letters told of
Ned's being settled with his uncle in Edinburgh, after a
very kind reception, and of Arthur's being fairly established
in liis college at Oxford.

Before these letters arrived, however, Helen had returned
home. She had met Mr Russell again, and Katie, from
various things she noticed in her manner and appearance,
soon suspected, — what Mr Russell's own arr'val shortly
afterwards confinned, — that she had promised some day
to be his wife. The ** some day " was left very indefinite ;
and Katie soon found from Mr Russell that it was chiefly
because Helen could not make up her mind to leave her
father, or to tax Katie with her duties, should she relinquish
them. But Katie represented most strongly, though her
heart rebelled all the time, how well Mr Grey and she
would get on together, and how all that she should have to
do would only be an interest for her, and work she should
enjoy. She was Mr Russell's most efficient ally, as he

gratefully acknowledged, and their joint representations

199

CHANGES.

Bucceeded so far as to induce Helen to consent that the
marriage should be fixed, if all were well, for the follow-
ing summer. When it was all settled, and Katie had
received Mr Russell's warm thanks, and been claimed as
his sister, and had heard Helen declare that she could not
have left her father but for knowing his adopted daughter
would be with him, she felt as if she really were of some
use and importance, after all.

Helen and she spent a quiet, happy winter together,
though a little saddened by the thought of the approaching
separation. They had plenty of work, and books full of
interest, to occupy them at home, and there was always
something to be done abroad, as much as they could
overtake. They mixed very little in society. Katie was
seldom at Pine Grove in Clara's absence, and Caroline
herself spent most of the winter away from home, on a
visit to one of her sea-side friends, and engrossed with a
round of gaieties. When she returned, it was rumoured
— truly, as it proved — that she was soon to leave home
finally as the wife of Lieutenant— now Captain — Ainslie.

The two weddings took place in the following June.
Clara come home from school to be one of the brides-
maids at her sister's, which was the first, and remained to
ofl&ciate in a like capacity at Helen's. Caroline's was in
the church, of course, and was a very gay affair ; Katie
"being present as a spectator, but not as one of the guests.
The bride looked extremely pretty and graceful, and the
wedding presents were declared to be " splendid," as well
as the wedding breakfast.

Helen's was as quiet as it could well be. Katie had

200

CHANCES.

t that the
he follow-
i^atie had
iloimed as
could not
[ daughter
re of some

' together,
)proaching
iks full of
'•as always
hey could
Katie was
L Caroline
ome, on a
d with a
rumoured
,ve home
lAinslie.
g June.
1 brides-
ained to
I was in
; Katie
J guests,
and the
as well

shrunk from the idea of being a bridesmaid, but Helen so
much wished to have both her and Clara, that she yielded ;
and she did not find it so formidable, after all, especially as
the groomsmen were Mr Russell's two younger brothers.
The Elliotts and Mrs Duncan were almost the only guests ;
but the occasion seemed to be pervaded with the quiet,
hopeful happiness which they have most reason to expect
who desire, above all things, the approving presence of the
Heavenly Guest, who alone can turn life's water into wine.

Katie thought, as she watched Mr and Mrs Kussell
drive away, how much preferable was the quiet, peaceful,
domestic life, to be filled with noble work for God and
man, that lay before them, to the career of frivolous
excitement and fashionable dissipation to which Caroline
Ainslie was looking forward.

It had, of course, been rather a trial for Helen to leave
the church in which she had been brought up, and to which
her early associations so tenderly clung, for that which she
must now join, as the church of her husband. But she
had always loved and admired the Church of England
service ; and she felt too strongly of how little importance,
comparatively, is the mere outward form of our connexion
with Christ's kingdom, provided he is the chief object of
our attachment, to indulge in any repining over so very
small an alloy as this in a cup so full of blessing.

latie had

;|i

I J

•^^^

CHAPTER XVII U

6oxng Dome.

" Fold her, oh Father, in Thine arms,
And let her henceforth be
A messenger of love between
Our human hearts and Thee."

T might have "been thought that Katie's life

would have been a very sad and lonely one

after her friend's marriage and departure,

and she had once feared this herself, hut it was

not so. Her heart was too full of the peace which

cannot he taken away, and her time too full of

thought and work for others, to leave her much

leisure for realising the sense of her loneliness,

though she did continually miss Helen, as well as

her brother, from whom, however, she had regular

and satisfactory letters that helped not a little to

preserve her cheerfulness. She tried to keep up as

much of Helen's visiting and other w^ork as, with

her limited strength, she could overtake, and at

home she always had Martha's watchful care and Mr

Grey's genial kindliness, as well as abundance of interesting

202

GOING HOME.

Katie's life
lonely one
departure,
)ut it was
ace 'Nvliich
DO full of
her much
oneliness,
,s well as
,d regular
little to
[eep up as
as, with
P, and at
and Mr
Iteresting

reading, when she was too tired for active work. Helen
and Mr Russell very often sent her some new book oi
periodi ial which they thought she should like ; and Mr
Grey's small library was well stocked with valuable works
of older times, some of which — as for instance, " Hall's
Contemplations " — she much enjoyed. Mr Grey took care
to make her a sharer in the interests of his parish work, so
that her mind was never without some object of interest to
engage her affections and occupy them for good. Then
Helen's occasional visits, and those which she from time to
time made to her friend's new home, were full of enjoy-
ment at the time, and of pleasant memories in the retro-
spect.

Clara, too, returned home before long, not so much
spoiled as Katie had feared ; and the latter found her a
willing assistant in anything in which she asked her help —
though Clara was not good at finding out work for herself.
The pleasant visits to Pine Grove were renewed, though the
place looked strange in the absence of the familiar faces.
Caroline had gone to England with her husband's regiment,
and she and Arthur had met again there. Arthur occasion-
ally divided his letters between Clara and Katie ; and a
passage in one of those which he wrote to the latter from
Switzerland, where he was travelling during the summer,
was especially gratifying to her. He had been describing
the grand scenery of the Bernese Alps, and the impression
which they had made upon him, and added —

" I feel more and more, in the midst of these sublime

though silent tokens of God's presence and working, how

great will be the glory of * the King in His beauty,' when

203

GOING HOME.

om eyes shall see Him. Do you remember speaking to me
of that once, anJ of how infinitely small in comparison are
most of the objects on which people usually fix their desires
here ? I am more and more resolved on what was first sug-
gested to me through you — not to rest satisfied with any
aim centred in self, or even with the contemplation of
human wisdom, and the study of human knowledge, but to
look onward to eternal realities, and in their light to try to
do as well as I can the highest work to wliich God calls any
man here — that of winning souls for eternal life."

Not long after she got this letter, Katie received a visit
from her former pupil, James Egan, whom, in the tall,
respectable-looking youth he had grown, she at first hardly
recognised. He was now working with a carpenter in Ashby,
with good hopes of being eventually taken into his master's
business. He had carried on his education, so far at least
as he was likely to require it, and spoke sensibly and grate-
fully of his obligations to Katie. " I 'm sure, miss, it was
your trouble that began the making of me, only I 'm afraid
you '11 not think it was worth while for that."

But Katie had long ceased to regret anything that had
happened to her, and was too full of the pleasure of seeing
that Jim had turned out so well for any other thoughts.

There are many such boys as Jim in all our towns and
villages — " springs shut up " — " fountains sealed," as far aa
any development of their higher nature goes, and destined,
if let alone, only to perpetuate and extend the evil influ-
ences which have made them what they are. It only needs
a little watchful but patient care, and some trouble and

active kindness, to awaken their better nature, and turn

204

GOING HOME.

ing to mo
iriSon are
eix desires
3first8Ug-
with any
Dlation of
ge, but to
t to try to
\ calls any

v^ed a visit

I the tall,

irst hardly

:inAshby,

.is master's

far at least
1
and grate-

liss, it was

[ 'm afraid

that had

of seeing

oughts.

owns and

" as far as

destined,

ivil influ-

|nly needs

luhle and

and turn

them into useful citizens, instead of roughs, to disturb tran-
quillity and order, and to become at last inmates of so-called
reformatories and penitentiaries. Perhapa every reader of
this tale might be able to do something towards reclaiming
one such ; and were every one to try who could, it would
more advance the prosperity of Canada than any develop-
ment of merely material resources.

Jim had, however, a great sorrow soon after this. The
little brother, so clever and thoughtful, who had been
Katie's fav^ourite pupil, died of an inflammatory disease,
brought on, she feared, by his mother's neglect. She saw
him often during his illness, and tried to lead his mind to
the Saviour of whom she had so often told him j and she
had the satisfaction of knowing that he died with His name
on his lips, as he breathed a simple childish prayer which
she had taught him. His sisters are fast growing into nice,
useful girls, able to make their father's home comfortable,
and likely to become good servants. Their father him-
self continues steady and industrious, though his wife still
indulges in her old drinking ways whenever she has an
opportunity. But, through the care that has been exercised
over them, it may be hoped that the evil eflfects of her con-
duct will not extend beyond herself.

But Katie's work was nearly finished now. In the be-
ginning of the second winter after Helen's marriage, Mr
Grey and she went to be present at the baptism of Helen's
baby, and in returning home she caught a severe cold from
exposure to rain, which ultimately settled on her lungs.
She had always had a predisposition to her mother's con-
stitutional malady, and, once seated, it made rapid progress

205

•

GOING HOME.

■ '

*»

in her delicate frame. Her strength sank very quickly ;
but as she never complained, and as she always appeared to
rally from the fits of weakness to which she was subject,
Mr Qrey was scarcely alarmed at their recurrence, until Dr
Elliott told him he had better send for Helen, as the end
could not be far distant.

Helen was much shocked, when she arrived, to see Katie's
condition. She could not " restrain bitter tears," though
Katie smiled and said, " You should not grieve, Helen, or
grudge my going to papa and mamma and Hughie — and
*the island valley of Avilion,' " she added, dreamily —

" * Where falls not hail or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly.*"

" But that is not the best of what you are going to," said
Helen, a little anxiously, through her tears.

"Oh, no !" replied Katie, with a radiant smile ; "'the
throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it ; and His
servants shall serve Him.' "

Helen would not leave her friend again so long as she
lived. The fading away was very gradual, and attended
with very little pain. Tow^ards the last there seemed to be
a prostration of all her powers, and she occasionally wan-
dered in her talk, seemingly recalling pleasant scenes and
associations from her past life. Clara, as well as Helen,
was a faithful and loving attendant to the last When
death came, it was like the peaceful falling asleep of a
,Y eary child, stealing on without her knowing of it. But
those who had known so well her heart and life did not
need words to assure them that the faith which had held
her up so long had not forsaken her now.

206

GOING HOME.

y quickly ;
ippeared to
aa subject,
le, until Dr
, as the end

) see Katie's
.rs," though
e, Helen, or
.ughie— and

,mily—

ing to," said

fnile; "Hhe
it ; and His

long as she
id attended
;emed to be
[onally wan-
scenes and
as Helen,
ist. When
[asleep of a
lofit. But
[& did not
Ih had held

She was laid in the grave on a sweet sunny day in April ;
and as Helen saw the green turf replaced on her lowly bed,
and heard the melodious carol of a bird on a branch above
her head, she thought of that long-past Good Friday when
she had gone to see her, and wondered at the abundant
fruit which had sprung from that unconscious sowing.

They could not mourn bitterly over her death, feeling
that such mourning would have been selfish. Even Mr
Grey, as he felt he might soon follow her, could scarcely
regret that so gentle a lamb had been safely folded before
his own departure.

Ned grieved a good deal when he heard of his sister's
death, and so did Arthur ; but they both soon felt that they
could not wish her recalled ; and to both her memory was
long a preservative from evil, and an incitement to good.
Clara missed her friend sadly, and now tends with care the
quiet resting-place, which Helen always loves to visit when
she comes to Lynford. Clara tries to fiU Katie's place some-
what, and is much more disposed to look for work, and do
it in her own way, than she might ever have been but for
her friend's example and influence.

Caroline Ainslie is as graceful as ever, and much admired,

as well as a great favourite with those whom she meets in

society. She has no children, and her time, of which she

has a good deal to spare, is divided between the gaieties of

her circle and the manufacture of various adornments for

her house and person ; but she has never known a genuine

enthusiasm for an unselfish object, or the blessedness of

working for Him who gives His servants such an abundant

award in the success of their work.

207

ir* '

, l^^^W^begimtoenjeyyanincjine of.his awn et
J and^lias .nearly realised lils self-iiAposed twik'oi olearinj
« tjju^rfimains of his father's debts... He is steady and dili^
.; f and -strongly attached to his early friend, Arthur ;
^. after completing his university course, has nearly finif
his studies for the Church, and endeavours to repay I
good he had received from Katie by trying to exercise
influence for good over her brother.

Arthur and Clara Winstanley, Ned, and James El

have very different destinies before thiBm, and are likelj

move in very different spheres ; but they have each be

. fited, in no small* degree, by Katie Johnstone's cross^ (

the way in which it was borne.

t • r

P'-:v

.... i ,♦. -I

. _. THE .END. 4 , i»^K.•.l k.'.- .: ^,/. 1

>«^ .W<« ^ ' —

> ••■ .i

5800y5o

«^

me of. his :awn earning,
)Gsed tajjk:of clearing off
le is steady and diligent ,
r friend, Arthur; who,
irse, has nearly finished
ndeavours to repay the
by trying to exercise an.

N'ed, and James Egan

them, and are likely to

t they have each bene-j

Johnstone's cipss, nndj

J.'-. W, . ■-.* ... 1 ., . 1
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