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 I «ent my sottl throaèh the intiaibl*, ' 
 " j-*6mo '"tter of tbat Hfter-life to spell : 
 v; '. '^^ -* W hy ai^ by my soûl 'returned to me, / \ 
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 joSn ward, preacher 
 
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 MARGARET DELAND 
 
 AOTHOK OF " THE OLD GAULiEN " 
 
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 I sent my soûl through the invisible, 
 Some letter of ihat after-life to spell : 
 
 And by and by my soûl returned to me, 
 And ànswered, " I myself am Heav'n aàd Hell."^ 
 
 Omar Khayyaii. 
 
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 J. THEO. ROBINSON, Publisher 
 Montréal. 
 
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 OOMMBROIAL PRENTING HOUSB. 
 
 62 ST. FRANÇOIS XAVUR ST., 
 
 MONTREAL. 
 
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 The ev 
 whole hou 
 . "The fa 
 ■nièce, " th( 
 so fuU of 
 house." 
 
 And ind 
 noveky. " 
 it must be 
 mah-ied, an 
 stand such 
 Çut Ashi 
 The rush ai 
 haste was u 
 striking thi 
 gréen hills, 
 Its grassj 
 seemed to c 
 reallj very 
 abolit the fo 
 tl^^ other wî 
 house. 
 
 Between t 
 
 its first yout 
 
 ^ and even th( 
 
 " days of gro« 
 
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 V 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 so Mot auppressed excitement one can't breathe 7a the 
 
 it m, «h. !^ ^' ^ "Z '"»'> ""''1 «le rector, " let me see • 
 
 maS and i"h;;''°' "''"? ^'""'' '''"^ Mary Drayton Z" 
 mamea, and that waa our last weddine Well wp r.™,l,i„^ 
 atand.uch dissipaj^ion ofteaer; it ,wo«l|-waK :;/"""°i: 
 
 green hills, was its atmosphère of leisure and reiise 
 Jmn!rLr/a"raT^Iaf''r"" i"V» ^^''-' 
 
 t^^otW .as thllS^^^aufd ,::^:n VLf S « 
 |n_d evel the tlZ^'rX'ZZ Z„^fZ^ 'F 
 
 "9a.ys ôf ÊfTowth werp ftnrio*! ti,^""***' **^ *'"*', "^*'' ^°** ?® 
 
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 '.*g:ocery,T store in the ofirenings, because, they said, they 
 ^ere aji the ineiiey of Phibbs, the package man, who brought 
 theirwares on his-slow, preaking cart over the dusty turnpike 
 fromnMercer- Eut other^, looking into the future, objected to 
 a conyenience which miiht resuit in a diminution of What 
 little treide they had. Aittong the families, however, who did' 
 not hâve to cûnsider. " trade '«^ there was great unanimity, 
 though the Draytons murmured something about the increased 
 value of the land ; possibly not so mucb with a view to the 
 welfare of Àshurôt as because their property extended along 
 the prbposed line of theroad. 
 
 Tne rector was verymrm in bis opinion. " Why," said he^i, 
 mopping his forehead w^th his big silk Ijandkerchief, " whati 
 do we want with a r^ûad ? My grandfâthër never tb'oughti 
 of such a thing, so I th&nk I can get along without tt, land iti 
 is a great deal better fpr the village not to hâve it/'' j \ 
 
 It would hâve eut on one corner of liis. barn , a,nd thoughj 
 this could not bave inœrfered with the mat^rial or spiritual! 
 welfare of Ashinrst, Dri Howe's opinion never wayered. Andj 
 the rector but ekpressôd the feelings of the other *' families," 
 80 that ail Ashurat was conscious of relief when. tne pro4 
 jectors of the léilroiad kvent no further than to make a eut at 
 one end of the Praytïm pastures ; and Ibtit was sp long agg 
 tjiat now the eàrth, w|ûch had showna ragged yellow wound 
 across tbe soft greenni^s^f the meadows, was sown b f sweei 
 clover and wild rosesJancL gave no sign of èver havi ig beeii 
 gashed by picks ànd ahove£.\ r ' [ 
 
 The Misses Woodhouse'X^little orchard of gnared and 
 wrinkled apple-tieès èame to the edge of the eut on one side» 
 and then sloped.^own to the kiWien garden and baîk doqr 
 of thêir old house^ wiioh in front^was shut off from Ihe roa,d . 
 .'b3t a high brick ^all, gray with lichens, and crumpling /in 
 places whëre the moittar ^àdiotted under the creeriers ma 
 ivy, which hung in ae&vf festoôns over<the coping. |The itall 
 iron gâtes had not bcen closed for yeai-s, ànd.ixustinaon t^eir 
 
 - • - - - ^- ^ à 
 
 hingeSj had pressed 
 
 b ac k a gainst the iiine j; iw all 
 
 \H^ 
 
 almost hidden by tiie tangle of vine*s, tfeàl 
 and' ôut of the bars; and waved about in tbe 
 their tops. ' 
 
 The square gardèp whic^ the wall inclos 
 
M, 
 
 
 >• 
 
 cool, green darkness; the trees were the OTowth of fh^l 
 ciose they had soaroely light anough for blosgomiiiff Th«i 
 
 oetween them were damp, and the black hard eurth K«rf . 
 fllm of moss over it. OlifasHoned flowerâ ^wfjTt Xe^ 
 theirano^ ors had atood fifty yeara before. " I wuW Ld flS 
 
 wiSho:^."l„T'f J^*."^ eyea shaVsaidMrtoh 
 woodhouse; and she knew how far the lilifl« nf ffîn ^aiia^ 
 
 spread eachspring, tod how mucrit wouWbe L^L^T^ 
 
 ïfl™ %„*? "^""î •*"■ '"""=■' »f sweet-wffliams. 
 \«7^„ Wfl^ ^'^'^y* ™'y generous with her flowèra. 
 
 meant to stnp the garden of every blossom she could find 
 
 m^v^:tz.:^,, ^ ^^ ^^- to, the chu.s 11 s 
 
 Gifford Woodhouse had lately retumed from Europe, akd 
 
 hmt'aTthfn^^^^^^^ P^P^^^ »^- auS?rtâ^ 
 
 mm as anythmgbut the boy he seemed to themVhea hé leffc ' 
 the law achool They still "sent dear Giff" here^ « brouS^^ 
 him Vthere, and arranged his plans for hiriû éntirT f n 
 consciousness that he might hâve a wiU of hS'own pSh^^^^ 
 the big fellow's silence rather jÉlbed the îmores^on fhr ?n 
 
 or th^t, it was not of so much consequeticl that in the end 
 he d4 exact y as hepleased. This was not often at vari^^ 
 ^ith t^e désires of the two sisters, for the wormés^ inSœ 
 
 &i J- ^1? S",t^'*"^^^*^^ been mpre -surprised than th^ 
 httle 1, dies, had tbey beeû told that their çJhel^ iStion 
 of>|^law ^. the tab^ towb of I^aT J^tS 
 
 *n^ t*'^^'^'*^?8wed^^fiîWwhenheoi^^ . - 
 
 )\y 
 
 â^'f 'fe^^^îl^*^^^ ^^^ youngman added tTatiïlïSd 
 «tiU hoi,ed to hnd clients there; andjsat oàce a week, forX 
 
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 #*' 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREAi 
 
 InÈB, 
 
 hour, in a dingy back office waitfng for them. True, tiie)r 
 never came; but Gifford had once read law ^vjth IVÏr. Denner,. 
 and. knew and loved the little gentleman, sp he could not d» 
 a thing which niiglit appeai- discou^teôus. And" vvhen he 
 further remarked that there seemed to^be a (good opening ia* 
 Locjchaveu, which was B growing place, and that it would be 
 very jolly to bave Helen Jeffrey there when shç becameMrs. 
 Ward, the two Misses Woodhouse snjited, and said firmly 
 thattheyapproved ,of it, and thatthey would xénd him to 
 Lockhaven in the spring, and t hey were glad they had thought 
 ofit. • . ^ 
 
 ,0^ this June night, they had begged bim to take a mes- 
 sage to therêctOry about^-tlie flowers for the wedding- "He is- 
 glad enough to go, pooi- child," said Miss Deborah, sighing, 
 when she ^w the alacrity with which he started : " he feels 
 her marriage very much, thoùgh he isso young." 
 
 " Are you sure, dear Deborah ?" asked Miss Rutb, doubt- 
 fuUy. " I never really felt quite certain that he was inter- 
 ; ested in her." 
 
 \^ " Oei-tainly I am," answered Miss Deborah, sharply, " l'vè. 
 ^Iways maintained they were made f^r each other." 
 
 But Gittord Woodhouse's pleasant ^ray eyes, under straight 
 birown-brows, showed none of the (iespair of an ^unsùccessful 
 loVer ; on' the contrary, he whistled softjy through hiâ blonde 
 moustache, as he camé along the reâtory lane, ati^ tnen 
 \fâlked down the.path to join the party in the garden. 
 
 The four people who had gathered at the foot of the lawn. 
 were very silent ; Dr. Howe, whose cigar glowed and ftided. 
 like a larger Srefly than thdse which were beginning to 
 spangle the darkness, was the only oneready to talk. " Well,."^ 
 he said, khocking off bis cigar ashes on tbe arpa of his chair,. 
 " evérything ready for to-morrow, girls ? Trunks packed and , 
 gowns trimiiied ? "We'll bave to keep you, Helen, to see that 
 the house is put in order after ail thi% turmoil ; don't yoa, 
 think soj Lois?" 
 
 Here^ the rector yawned secretly. 
 
 " You neèd n't worry. about order, father," Lois said, lift- 
 '•head fifom her couain's j ghouïdt^r. h er rfid I nw er lÎ T^i 
 pouting à little, " but I w^sh Hve çpùld keep Helçn." ' 
 . " Do you hear that, Mr. Ward ?" the rector said. " Yes,, 
 
 ->^v 
 
 *-:< 
 
 a. 
 
 we're ail gi 
 
 house'was 
 
 when sh^»^ 
 
 tiiat fèllow 
 
 quite a m£ 
 
 elders to re 
 
 "Giff is 1 
 
 "Why,t 
 
 I might ha 
 
 Lois, and hi 
 
 fellow, Gifl 
 
 Mercér. t 
 
 in spme wa 
 
 Ashurst in 
 
 a,nd l'm gh 
 
 eye on Hel 
 
 dignity- I 
 
 John — my ( 
 
 There wa 
 
 the man, at 
 
 formai addi 
 
 respect Wa 
 
 respectirig h 
 
 other people 
 
 Dr. Howe 
 
 Ward's earr 
 
 there seenie* 
 
 . ness and fi 
 
 courteous de 
 
 But Johfi 
 
 omission f-î 
 
 . for mère occi 
 
 " I always 
 
 manly fello\^ 
 
 He never ha 
 
 the-point. ] 
 
 he couldn't I 
 
 -fchif^esrpâsj 
 a coal : you 
 was coming 
 
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 .. Vfr, 
 

 R.,^ 
 
 we're^llgoingtomissthechildverymuch. Gifford Woo4- 
 hoiise'was saymg to-day Ashurst would lose a great deû 
 whensb^.went. Theie's a conîpKment for you, Helen f How 
 tnat t^Iow has changed in. thèse three years abrbad ! He's 
 quitea man njw. Why, how old is he ? It's Kard for us 
 elders to realizçf that children grow up " ' 
 
 "Giffistwenty-8ix,-'Lois^i^id. - -. 
 
 T " -^t^i.' ^^^ ^^'" ^"^^ ^^- iiP^y^ " so he is ! Of bourse, 
 I mighb hâve knôwn it : he w^^^ni^the year youV brother was. 
 
 i^î!^'*°;?i^^o?ldhavebeeirtweUty-sixifhe'dlived. Nice 
 ^llow. Gifford .18, J'm ^ony he's not going to practice in 
 Mercer.. He. has a feehng that it might interfère .with' Denner 
 m spme way. But dear rae, Dernier never had a caçe outside 
 Ashurst m lus life. Still, it shows good feeling in the boy ; 
 and I m glad he's ^oing to he in Lockhaven. He'U keep an 
 eye on Helen, and let us know if she behav^s with proper 
 dignity. I think you'U like hii,; ]\ïr. Ward,_I would Jay 
 John~my de^r fellow !" * ^ . ,- •^- ' 
 
 There was a.lack of 'syinpatliy„oii the^art of the rector 1^ 
 the ma^ at his side, which made it difficult for him to drop thf 
 tormal aUdress, and think df him À onex)f his faihily «" 
 respect Ward," he said once to" his silter,-^" I éan4"'hel 
 respectirig Irfm ; bu« bles^ my soûl, I -wish he was morê like' 
 other^people Th^e was somethiné about the youneer man, ' 
 Dr. Howe did not know.just what, A^hich irritated him'! 
 Ward 8 eamestness was positively aggressive, hé said, and 
 there seenied a sortof undress of the niind in his entire open* 
 ness and fi-ankness ; his truthfulness, whidi, ignorcd the 
 courteous deceits of social hfe, was a kiqd of lipropriety. 
 
 But Joh» Ward had not noticed either the^%ology or the 
 omission f i^o one answered the rector, bo he w^t on talkin^ 
 lor mère occujjation. : '' / *'* 
 
 " I always ^ked Gifford as a bo>," he said ; " he was such a 
 manly felloW, and no blatherskite, talking his elders to death 
 He never had mueh to say, a;ld when he did talk it was tô" 
 thOomt I ;-emember once seeing him— ishy, let me see„ 
 
 lf i_ j^^j^^''^^"™^^^ ^ft^'^ fifteèn— breaking a coït in 
 fchéwestpa^rer It wâsôneof Bet's fîllips nnrl «= WonV „« 
 
 
 
 '!•. 
 
 P 
 
 fcht^ west pa^rer it was one df Bet's fil|ies, and as black asT 
 a 6oal: you remember her, dont you, Lois ?— a beautv ! I 
 was coming home from the viUage early in the moniing ; 
 
 
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a 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREAÇHER. 
 
 |»"i:>î^ 
 
 
 somebody was sick— and l'd been sent for ; it must hâve beea " 
 about six, — and there'^was Gifford struggling witlj that young 
 mare in the west pasture. He. liad thrown off his coat, and" 
 caught her by the mane and a rope bridle, and he was trying 
 to ride her. That blonde head of his was right against her 
 neck, and when &he reared he clung to her till she lifted hini 
 off his feet. He got the best of her, though, and tlie Jirst 
 thing she knew he was on her back. . Jove! how she did 
 plunge 1 but he mastered her ; he sat superbly. " I felt Gi|ïbrd 
 had the making of a fimn in hini, after that, He inherits his 
 father's pluek. You know Woodhouse inade a record at 
 Lookout Mpuntain ; he was killed the third day. 
 
 " Gifford used to say," said Helen, "that he wished iie liad 
 been born in time to go intô the army." 
 
 " There's a good deal of light in the boy," said the lector, 
 chuckling., " His aunts were àlways begging him not ta get 
 into rows with the village boys. I even had to caution liim 
 inyself. ' Never fight, sir,' l'd say ; but if you do fight, wliip 
 em ! Yes, it's a pity he couldn't hâve been in the army:" 
 
 " Well,'' said Lois, impatiently, " Giff woiild hâve fought, I 
 know, but Ue's so contradictory!., l've heard hiin say the 
 Southerners couldn't help fighting for sécession; it was a 
 prinoiple to them, and there was no moral wrong about it, he 
 said." 
 
 I /' Oh noDSence !" cried tlie rector ; '* thèse young nien, who 
 haven't borne the burden and beat of the day, prétend to in- 
 struct up, do they ? No moral wrong ? I thought' GifforcJ 
 had some sensé I ïhey were coudemned by God and man." 
 
 " But, uncle Archie,^' Helen said, slowly, " if they thought 
 they were right, you can't say there was a moral wrong ? 
 
 "Oh. corne, corne," said Dr. Howe, with an indignant 
 
 splutter, "you don't understand thèse things my dear, 
 
 you're young yet, Helen. They were wrong through and 
 through; so don't be absurd." Then turning haïf apolo- 
 getically to John Ward, he added, " You'U hâve to keep 
 this çhild's ideas in oj^der ; l'm sure she never heard such 
 8gnMine!Dr g &Qjtime. M r . J ^ar dw i ll think you ^v e n't beea 
 
 wëll brought up, Helen. Principle?. Twaddle I their 
 poekets werè what they thought of. AU this talk of prinoiple 
 isrubbish." 
 
 jarf**»; 
 
 ...'■iV£:/..,f, , 
 
 " The 
 
 down wit 
 
 "And 
 
 «yes to ] 
 
 pathized i 
 
 inauy Sou 
 
 iiig for 8e< 
 
 "tdon' 
 
 cif hospita 
 
 ■W^^y eyebi 
 
 "Ithinl 
 
 with genti 
 
 silent asto] 
 
 other in fch 
 
 Lois whisp 
 
 found àuth 
 
 they do bui 
 
 " Nonser 
 
 never taugj 
 
 States right 
 
 " But," J, 
 
 slavery, whs 
 
 ÙïSpired wo 
 
 •oècided by j 
 
 believed sac 
 
 did not conc 
 
 taught tl^at , 
 
 " X never 
 
 -answered, à 
 
 " But if y( 
 
 to see thàt it 
 
 Dr. Howe 
 
 «igar down 1 
 
 like an angr 
 
 «f the book," 
 
 . _possible j jrou 
 
 you know." 
 
 "But, une] 
 Bible taught 
 reason could : 
 •«ne thing to d 
 
:•?:?" 
 
 if'^*'-- 
 
 
 JOHN WABD, PREA^HER. 
 
 r 
 
 i>- 
 
 Lois whispered) "fhi M •■ <" ™n'™dicting father!" 
 they do but insiat uponTtf ^'"'' "" *'^'" '^'^'^ <»«W 
 
 States r.gbt3 ar.\h:";ta:reïïavi';;'.?^ "'^^>- ^^'■"^™<' "'^ 
 
 Wired woîd o God and ,7 ?"' ^""""^ "''" >* i' the 
 «cided by it thev had tô fi t Z™"'-*' '?''"" "^ "'«^ i' to •» 
 
 did „ot 00^ de\hat i wt rnr'-'lf '"*';^ '"'^ '""'""*''°» 
 
 like an aSg"' ^T' J^^,!^ ^^-ed for a. moment : 
 of the book/'hesaid "Vnf V ' J ^f^^ some other part 
 ^ possible ; you car«Lv. ^"il!!.^"^,^^" <^^"^^ «^^^h a criais 
 -^ k ^o#.^^^ ^ ■ ^ " ^ ' fi^da o me oth e f m eaning in a text, 
 
 »«asoncould not asspn? if M . ^ consôience or one's- 
 ^e thing to dot^"^p IrSeV^ *'^- """* "^ «"'' 
 
 
 'C 
 
 f; 
 
 1t 
 
 .J 'à- 
 
 O 
 
 ' f 
 
 fl. 
 
 ^ .îMI 
 
 -i-rir (j 1 <; 
 
 ^P 
 
Jl'O JOHN WAKD, PREÂCHER. 
 
 "Oh, no,".said Dr. Howe,"don't be so extrême, Helen.. 
 There would be many things to do ; leave the considération 
 of slavery, or whatever the supposed wrong was, until you'd 
 mastered ail the virtues of the Bible ; time enough to think 
 of an alternatàve then,— eh, Ward ? Well, thank Heaven, 
 the war's over, or we'd hâve you a rank' copperhead. Coine !: 
 it's time to go into the house. I don't want any heavy eyes 
 for to-moiTo|w." 
 
 " What a speech for a rafnister's wife Helen !" Lois cried, 
 as they rose. " Wbat umdd people say if they heard you 
 announce that you ' would give up the Bible ' ?" 
 
 "I hope no one will ever hear her say anything so foolish,** 
 -said Dr. Howe, but John Ward looked at Lois in honest 
 surprise. ' î 
 
 "Would it make any différence what people said ?" he 
 asked. - » 
 
 " Oh, I wasn't speaking very seriously," Lois auswered, laugh- 
 ing, " but still, one does not like to say anything which i» 
 unusual, you know, about such things. And of course, Helen 
 doesn't really mean that she'd give up the Bible." 
 
 " But I do," Helen interrupted, smiling; and she inight hâve 
 said more, for she could not see John's troubled look in the 
 darkness, but Gifford Woodhpuse came down tue path to meet 
 them aud give Miss lîuth's message. 
 
 " Just in time, young ma,n," said the rectôr, as Gifford 
 silently took some 'of "John's burden of shawls and cushions, 
 and turned and walked beside him. " Here's Helen giving 
 Ward an awful idea of her orthodoxy ; come and vouch for the 
 teaching you goc at St. Micbael's." 
 
 ^ Giffori laughed. " What is orthodoxy, doctor ? he said, 
 I*ifl sure I don't know !" 
 
 "'The hungry sheep look up and are not fed," quoted the 
 rector in a burlesque despair. " Why, what we believe, boy,— 
 what we believe ! The rest of my flock know better, Mr. 
 Ward, I assure you." 
 
 " I don't think we know what we do believe, uncle" Helen 
 said lightly 
 
 yawn, and ( 
 up-stairs. 
 bless you !'. 
 
 Helen, when an intelligent young woman, I might say a bright 
 young woman, makes a common-place speech, it is a mental 
 
 ASHUKST 
 
 ers, fitood clc 
 
 because of a 
 
 richness of tl 
 
 high fence ; t 
 
 i ing roses she 
 
 blossoms, anc 
 
 enough for ui 
 
 The house 
 
 caught, wher< 
 
 wista;ria, the ] 
 
 it from a gap 
 
 roofs like bioi 
 
 iiig outward ; 
 
 ing of Hele/i's 
 
 about the gare 
 
 gone doyn to 
 
 " I v\^<inder,' 
 
 in his, which \ 
 
 War(J bas a ga 
 
 But he ne ver « 
 
 thotjgh he was 
 
 cptild only Ioq] 
 
 " Well, thàt 
 
 else would jou 
 
 Now, he is a g( 
 
 Bless my soûl. 
 
 TBîs grows worse an J worsë7*^M thë~rector. "T^onie^ féxhàusting. Bu 
 
 ' ' ■ ' ■ " Oh, m lik 
 
 make Helen ha 
 
 
 , (. .jiR-» V - V Jt^ «-'1 
 
JOHN WARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 U 
 
 bless you !'. ' ^ '"^'- ^^^^ °'ght. dear cliild, and GoA 
 
 run 
 
 
 ,4 
 
 CHAITER II. 
 
 ersf sToof clo^tÔlé kn"/'^!' ''''^'°" "^ ^'°«^ ^'"' «^P- 
 beoause of a tedk 1^ «ne,- S rawberry La^ it wa, called, 
 
 riohnm of the .ÏS wl ^i ^'^^vberries giw there. The 
 
 blôssoms.andfur^S^rlTi';'' ^'f' ''^1«»'. «n" chemes, "' 
 eno„gh>r as Si^^SZ^^'" '^'"''- " ^''^--' 
 caiht r/ri'ïl?'ffiy.^'''™'"'»''h««""ed to hâve 
 
 roofs likeK can, be ,f°i,''''h,''' donae.-windows, their 
 iris outward I^d Zn ' ' ."!- r '^"' ''^ laWieesopen- 
 ing of HeZ's w«lrf?l " "l"","" ^'^ ^owe, on the eïen- 
 
 gone doyoCjoîn him "'' '""" "' '"'^ *'^'''''' '">'' had 
 
 inliltwd^Wtbeti'd'hif /ïï'l h:. """<' ^"-g"-^ 
 WardhasaeardenfThLr ' 'liï''''' ^'s Mick, « if John 
 
 thongh he wasii „ i^^'"« "ï?"' "; he jù8t went aroand 2- 
 
 el» î^uU ™ffi? Vhei'^ '^"" ' " """''^ P^Per. What ' 
 Now he i8 a m»;rf^!ii '"" '' f""' y» <''"''' like Ward. 
 
 makeHelenhiLv™' "^'^ «''ïkT'»"^- " « >•« "i 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 Îi 
 
 make Helen happj." 
 
 will jusfe 
 
 
12 
 
 .-.v^.,,. 
 
 JOHN WHRD, PREACHER. 
 
 ^^ The rector shook his head, " I know hovv you feel," hesaîd. 
 and I acknowlèdge he is odd ; that tàlk of his last night 
 abolit slavery being a righteous institution"— 
 
 " Oh, he did n't say that, father," Lois inten-upted. 
 — " was preposterous," continued Dr. Howe, not noticin^/ 
 ner ; but he's earnest, he's sincère, and I hâve a great deal 
 ot respect for earnestness. And look hère. Lois, you must not 
 let anybody see you are not in sympathy with Helen's 
 choice ; be careful of that tongue of vours, child. It's bad 
 tasfe tomakeone'sprivatedisappointments, public. I wouldn't 
 speak of it even to your aunt Deely, if I were you." 
 
 He stopped down to pull some matted grass from about 
 
 -the roots of a laburnum-tree, whose dark leaves were lighted 
 
 by golden loops of blossoms. " Thirty-eight years ago," he 
 
 said, 'your mother and I planted this ; we had just corne 
 
 Jiomeiromourweddingjourney, and sHe had brought this 
 
 »slip trom her mother's garden in Virginia. But dear me, I 
 
 suppose I ve told you that a dozen times. What ? Ôow to- 
 
 day brings back that trip<of ours ! We came througb Lock- 
 
 iiaven, but it was by stage-coach. I remember we thought we 
 
 were so fortunate because the other two passengers got ont 
 
 there, and we had the coach to ourselves. Your mother had 
 
 -a stnpped nbbon, or ganze,— I don't know what you call it,— 
 
 on her bonnet, and it kept blowing eut of the window of the 
 
 coach, like a httle flag. You young people can go further in 
 
 iess time, when you travel, but you wiU never know the charm 
 
 otstagmgit throughthe mountains. I déclaré,! hâve n't 
 
 thought ofit for years but to-day brings it ail back to me !" 
 
 Ihi^ had reached the rectory porch, and Dr. Howe settled 
 
 himself m his wicker chair and lighted his cigar, while Lois 
 
 m down on the steps, ^nd began to dig small holes in the 
 
 ^ravel with the stick her father had resigned to her. 
 
 The flood of soft lamplight from the open hall door threw 
 the portly figure of the rector into f ull reUef, and, touching 
 Xois s head, as she sat in the shadow at the foot of the stepi, 
 with a faint auréole, fell in a broad bright square on the lawn 
 
 weddmg, when the cUck of the gâte latch and the* swinging 
 «luamer of a lantern through the lîlacs and syringas warned 
 toem that some one was coming, and in another moment th© 
 
 Misses W< 
 
 square of I: 
 
 Miss Del 
 
 they gave t 
 
 rather than 
 
 had passed 
 
 f>flettingh( 
 
 upon his sie 
 
 Ashurst ^ 
 
 as well as st 
 
 people had 1 
 
 ing flowers, 
 
 .dainty cooki 
 
 - the wedding 
 
 ■vagain in the 
 
 hest black si 
 
 thjB.twilight 
 
 génim for ec 
 
 volved but s 
 
 would hâve f 
 
 the dress she 
 
 an artist, th« 
 
 antly folio wei 
 
 They sat di 
 
 talk, in their 
 
 They scarcely 
 
 into tjie fragri 
 
 that the youn 
 
 how the sunse 
 
 liad exhausted 
 
 iinxious to ask 
 
 tive value of L 
 
 thought to the 
 
 JPIiis was 110 
 
 other ail their 
 
 Jdf 
 
 ^\ 
 
 iJiuïtii itû/AHi' ^ 
 
 ...,,/-. 
 
 
 >l -' ja e8 »..and lat < 
 kisses, but thej 
 and simple fric 
 must go to coll 
 vacations; and 
 

 r 
 
 ^ ■'ff^jîjjî 
 
 \- ■ . . 
 
 JOHN WABD, PKEACHER. 
 
 n 
 
 là 
 
 s'^t'oMÎ^ht"-^^ "^'^ ^^^^^' -P^- «tepped across the 
 
 ^^t^^^^^^^ that 
 
 rather than of beinc. simXf.Tr \ • '^•''"•^ ^^o"<^ with them, 
 had passed a determined^r^ 1^^ ^^'"' ^^' ^^^^^ li«le lady 
 of letting her smThand Z ^T^^- ^"" ^^ '^^« ^^^ instead 
 
 4ainty cookin^. and then had nron! . ;u ï^^^^'"» ^^^^ some 
 -felje weddina thev Iw n\ ° "" ^^ ^^^ ^^«^«h at noon for 
 
 best black silks ancT summm? ? n -«.^"^/f their second- 
 
 g^nius for economy wS" aav ' f/^^^^^ Woodhoase had°a 
 
 would hâve feft it a shockW ^1 ^^' Household, and she 
 the dress she Ld worn to Sf wfd^^^^ to hâve kept on 
 an artist, th^ gisters said «nH IJ^ T ^''' ^"^h' ^^o was 
 
 ^^S^^i^^^^rrd^liJSete^ ^« J>yn to 
 
 hat t^e young p,ople should wSi îo sL as r^f.T.' '^'? ' 
 how the sunset Jmlit lin^rered hph n!?ff \m, ^^'^'"^ ^^^ «^id, 
 Imd exhausted th? subiïctnf ^.fj^^^i^^ hillsjand whenthey 
 anxious to ask the rector abo„t hl '^^1""' ^^'' ^^^^ ^^s 
 tive value of leaf mouWand ^^^^^^ ""^ ^^^ ^«la- 
 
 thought to the two who stm dpwi ''''^' ^\ ^^"> ^^^^ °o 
 
 fJiis was not sui^is^nf r ff? T ^T"^ ^^^^ Ao^era 
 otlî^r au their liv^Sf hSl^^^^^^ known each 
 
 kisseï burthe^' ImdSvs^î^hr i"^^ ï? ^i*^^"* ^he 
 
 4 -t i.*f 
 
 y! 
 
 lfe^^^#«?^#*«^/^'isÉà^ 
 
^ ^■■ 
 
 ff''^' 
 
 14 
 
 JOHN WARD, PHEACHEH. 
 
 H 
 
 *• Gifford has changed," she saxl petulantly. «' He is' so polite 
 to me," she complaiiied to Helen ; not that Gifïbrd had ever 
 beeii rude, but lie had heen brotherly. i 
 
 He once asked her for a rosefrom a bunch she had fastened in 
 lier dress. " Why don't you pick oue yourself, Giff?" shesaid 
 simply ; and afterwards, with a sparkie of indignant tears in 
 her eyes and with a ([uick impatience vvhich niade her an 
 ^ amusing copy of her father, she said to Helen, " I suppose 
 he meantto treat me as though I was some fine young lady» 
 Why can't he be just the old Giff ?" And when'he came back 
 ifrom Europe,, slie declared he was stiJl worse. 
 
 Yet even in their estrangement they united in dévotion to 
 Helen. It was to Helen they appealecï in ail their différences, 
 which were niany, and her judgment was final; Lois never 
 doubted it, èven though Helen geiierally thought GiÔord 
 was in the right. So now, when her cousin had left ber, she 
 was at least sure of the- young man's sympathy. ' 
 
 She<was glad that he was going to practice in Lockh^ven ; 
 he would be near Helen, and make the new place less lonely 
 for her, she said, once. And Helen had smiled, as though she 
 •could be lonely where John was ! 
 
 They walked now between the borders, where oldfashioned 
 
 flowers crowded together, towards the stone bench. This 
 
 was a slab of sandstone, worn and flaked by'weather, and set 
 
 on two low posts ; it leaned a little against the trunk of a 
 
 silver-poplar tree, which served for a back, and it looked like 
 
 an altar ready for the sacrifice. The thick blossoming grass, 
 
 which the mower's scythe had been unable to reach, grew 
 
 high about the corners ; three or four stone steps led up to it, 
 
 but they had been laid ao long ago they were sunken at one 
 
 side or the other, and almost hidden by moss and wild violets. 
 
 Quite close to the bench a spring bubbled out of the hillside, 
 
 and ran singing through a hoUowed loçust log, which was 
 
 mossy green where the water had overflowed, with a musical 
 
 cltip, upon the grass underneath. 
 
 — -They stood a moment looking towards- the west,whjpfë=r 
 
 golden dust séemed blown across the sky, up into the dark- 
 
 ness ; then Lois took her seat upon the bench. " When do 
 
 .yôu tjiink you will get off; Giff ?" she said. 
 
 " l'm not quite sûre" he an»wered ; he was, sitting on one 
 
 o^the low 
 
 that he<ini 
 
 to arran^ 
 
 im SO 
 
 you would 
 
 Gifford 1 
 
 grass and 1 
 
 friïige on o 
 
 knôtted aci 
 
 white dress 
 
 " I mean 
 
 Lockhaven. 
 
 horrid it wi 
 
 , "Ye8,"sÊ 
 lonely.'' 
 
 They wer 
 
 the girl's bo 
 
 stole out upi 
 
 star-like blo 
 
 "You don't 
 
 Giff," she sai 
 
 I^ckhaven a 
 
 I were a mai 
 
 . " Well, L 
 
 ford answerei 
 
 " But I shi 
 
 be such a pie 
 
 Gifford sm] 
 
 ring, and had 
 
 and was turn 
 
 said, «thatit 
 
 whether I am 
 
 " Qh," Lois 
 
 the place of ft 
 
 make Helen h 
 
 ^on't make tl 
 person she lov 
 loves bestone 
 "Tbu seem 
 I^is said, a thj 
 
JOHN WARD, PR^ACHEIt 
 
 to arrange eveiything " "^ ^ Wos« ,t will tako a fo Jnight 
 
 frmge on one end of tKft L^ 'f if ^'^"^^^ ^T^g the ' , 
 knotted across her bosom aL SÎ î ^^"""^ ''^'P^' Aich was 
 white dress. ' ^""^ ^®" ^^'^ost to the /em of her 
 
 I-'4PotVut'^ in 
 
 lonely..'' '"' ^'«^^ ^-Pathefclly, . ^,^1 be ^wfully 
 
 star-îike blossoms, and^ÏÏ Vh.r! P/^"^^/^ ^ cluster of the 
 "Youdon'tseemitallimif- ^""^'""^^^^ a^a^pst her iX 
 Giff/'shesaid. ''tfZtTZ'f l-%^ou.AskZt>^ 
 Lockhaven a month ago^evervthf^^^^ '^^"^^ ^^^« g«"e to 
 I were a man, would n^t I S^^^'"?/'-'? «^^W hère.'' Oh, if 
 
 " Well Lof>khflvo« •' g*^ °"^ ^n^o the world 1" 
 ford ansL^dt^^^^^^^ ^' -lied thr^orld," Gif-, 
 
 . Gifford smiled ; he had tw ^ff^K -^^ï ^^^'^" '^^ «aid. ^ 
 riiig,andhadpushedit on/h! ^n ^""^'^ «^ grass-into aN 
 and was turnina rth '„Xf n^ T^^^^'^ «^ his big finaers 
 said, nhatit\'ll3\ti^,^^^^^^^^ " I don't befiev^Te 
 whether I am there oTnot She hf m' ,^5^^^"^^ ^ Helen 
 
 " Qh," Lois sald " I hardlv f ?• f ' ^''- ^^^*^'" 
 the place of faS; and th^^ectS^ f? ^'' ^^'^ -° ^ake 
 make Helen happi^r to hâve !n^f{ T^"^^' ^ ^^°«w it will 
 
 won't make L sl^est^kT^ \^.^^"<^ persistence, " t 
 person she loves iŒftL'^;f.^^^^ ^r*. .«^^ '" ^ave the 
 loves bestone cduld l^ contenît h ^^ ""'^^ ^^« P«^«oû one 
 ^ ': You seem tolhave â v^it hiVh •'^^^'^ ^^ ^^^ara." 
 
 i 
 
 *,' 
 
 ri 
 
 
 
16 
 
 J'OHN WARD, PBEACHER. 
 
 I 
 
 " I have." said Gifford ; " but that is n't ^hat I meaii. It's^ 
 love, not John Ward, which means content. But you don't 
 have a very high opinion of hini ?" 1 
 
 " Oh, yes, I have," Lois said quickly ; " only he is n't good' 
 enough for Helen.' I suppoSe, though, l'd say ^at of any- 
 body. And he irritâtes me, he is so différent from other 
 people. I don't think I do — adore him !" 
 
 Gifford did not speak ; he took' another strand ôf grass, and 
 began to weave it round aïkl round his littl^ ring, to raake it 
 smaller. 
 
 " Perhaps I ought not to say that," she added ; " of" course 
 I would n't to aflfy on^ but you." ' 
 
 " You ought not to gay it to me, Lois," hiî said. 
 
 " Why ? Is n't it true ?" she said. - " I don't thirig it is 
 wrong.to say he's différent ; it's 'certainly ti:ue !" Gifford was 
 silent. " Do you ?" she demanded. 
 
 " Yes," Gifford answered c^uietly ; " afl'd soiAehow it doesn't 
 seem fair doift you know, to s^y-anything about theçi, they 
 are so happy [ it seenis as though we -ought not even to speak 
 of them," ^ ^ V 
 
 Lois was divided between indignation at being found faiilt 
 with and admiration for the sentiment. " Well," she said,. 
 rather meekly for her, " L wori't say anything more ; no doubt 
 l'U like him when I know him better." 
 
 •" See if that fîts your finger. Lois," her compàniôn said, sit- 
 tîng up, and handing her the little grass ring. She took it,^ 
 smiling, and tried it on. Gifford watched her with an intent- 
 ness which made her frown ; her bending head was like a 
 shadowy silhouette against the pale sky, ?ind the little curls 
 cjauL'ht the light in soft mist aroulid her forehead. 
 
 " But l'ra glad for my own part, then," she went on, " to 
 think of yqu and Helen. You must tell me everything about 
 her and her life, when you write ; she won't do it herself." 
 . " I wilJ," he answered, " if you let me write to you." 
 
 Lois opened her eyes with surprise; hère was this annoying 
 formali t y agai n, wh en Gifi brd' s f ault -f ind ing seemed to have 
 banished. " Let you write ?" she said impatientîy. " Why» 
 you' know I depended on your writing, Giff", and you must 
 teU me everything you can think of. What'iï the good o 
 having a friend in Lockhaven if you don't ?" 
 
 1 "* w*^ • ' 
 
 2-^ M?. 
 
^/^' 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 17 
 
 leanL'g^tlTa^n^^^^ '''''\''' ^«^ k»«««. --^ -as 
 
 uvvay fro^Lr a^d ta. n^^^^^^^ f H°^' ^^^ ^^ ^^^ tumed 
 tell you what it s IZ •' K "^. f * ^'^^^ ^'^ ^i«l«t«- " I 
 
 tell you, but I can't help it " ^ ^ '"P^^'^ ^ "* ^ *'^1 to 
 
 breath, " og Giffoni r ^^" ^*' ^'"^' ""Je^^ her 
 
 «itting down beside er" S he dS nitTV''f ï^ T**' 
 might hâve done in tLi^.lî 7 «o' take her hand,as he 
 
 "«..îy, but I c„ïïU\ii;"t:L":ôu 'ïï'^'* •»■?»» 
 
 «nconscious of it but how rnol-* ?ii .""!" y""^'' "'««'» 
 Lois? And I-nnirv «ould-a fellow help lovin.' yen. \ 
 
 it the«t«^^a„n"a"u ee"^,*:;:^ to Lookhavc, Ld „„t kS.' 
 
 . She did not sneak nntn 1, -9^" ?*?" *=*«• «— ''ttle?" 
 
 " Why Giff " S .1. "..•'^"" ^y ""'' """•J. Lois ? • ' '' 
 at himXr w^t em shinto" 'V"J f "''^Lt, and looking 
 care-iVe alwavs^cld w° '" '^ da^ness, "you kuo«r I 
 
 jent abtmd, i tried to teryocfToe =iL T ,K^'i.?>^°™.^ 
 , «'■ay you spoke you *d tfot care sl-A^j" .""8'" 'M «"e 
 
 ■'1.Î 
 
 ^<!m%êM^ 
 
i "" ^vsH, *""!; 
 
 "^i 
 
 18 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHKR. 
 
 .* 
 
 " Oh, Giffdrd," Lois cned, with ^Woice full of ^stress, 
 "you mvMn'i.f Why, don't you see? Ypu're juat like my 
 brother. Oh, do please let us forget ail this, and let's be juât 
 as we used tp be/' , . 
 
 " We canûot," He iaid gently. " But î won't make you 
 unhappy ; Xlwon't speak if you tell me to jbé silent.'' 
 
 " Indeed.I'do tell you to be silent," she/ said, in a relieved 
 tone. " IA|could not, Gifï. So we'U just/forjjet it. Promise 
 me you filïfôi^et it ?'' / 
 
 He sljook bis head, with a slôw^ smileJ *'You must forget 
 ît, if it/will] make you any happier ; bué you cannot ask me 
 to foiœet. 1 am happier to remember, I shall always love 
 ^ou/Cbis.'', ■■ ■' ' ■ ■ . * 
 
 But you mustn't !" she cried again. " Why can't we bave 
 fust the oljl friendâhip ? Indeed — indeed, it^never could be 
 anytyng ejlse ; asd," with a sudden break of tenderness?, iixher. 
 Voice, " iXl really am sofond ôf ybù, Gîïf !" ' 
 . Hère the young man smiled a little bitterly. Friendsbip 
 «eparated ihem as inexorabîy as though it had been hâte! 
 ' " And,'| the girl went on, gaining confidence as she spoke, 
 for argunijent cleared the air of sentiment, in which she telt 
 as awkwflrd as, she was unkind, " and you know there are a 
 good many things you don't like in me ; youthink I bave lots 
 of faults|— you know you do." 
 
 " I Butipose I do, in a way," he acknowledged ; but if I did'nt 
 love, you] 80 much. Lois, I would not notice them." 
 
 Lois ÏJeld her head a little higher, but did not speak. He 
 heii twist her fingers nervously togdther ; she had 
 to take off the little ring pf braided grass. 
 so §orry, Giff," she said, to break the silence—" oh, 
 I-î-I can't forgive myself." 
 Thire is nothing to forgive,"' he aàswered gently * " find 
 you m|jlist nôt distress yourself by thlnking that I am un- 
 hàppyJ I am better. Lois, yes, aiid happier, because I love 
 you. It shall be an inspiration td me Ji^ripy life, even if yo*^| 
 Bhoula forget ail about me. BiA I want ydu to make me ong | 
 pr6DQi|p,mIyôu*~~- — ^_i!!L- ^ -„^-_:^. 
 
 • lâhel heçitated. If I can, Giflf;" and tihen^ with sudden 
 . trusttKilnesa, she added,-" Yes, I will. Whit is it f; 
 
 watchec 
 forgotte;^ 
 •* I B.i 
 
 60 SOI 
 
 ^'irV 
 
 He iLke 
 toucH the 
 you(knl 
 canndt be 
 yoù do n 
 I shall alv 
 day ef er ( 
 
 Giffbrd, de 
 
 " ^4 y^ 
 
 He Ibok 
 be said i 
 
 "-Oh Gii 
 she stodbed 
 .whafc shk ht 
 him, aU w« 
 
 The)|)un 
 head beit ai 
 turned ahd i 
 
 .\ 
 
 Lois Éi)Wî 
 
 subtile thrill, 
 
 both, with w^i 
 
 " fih^ is lovted, .( 
 
 having wbund 
 
 once, andyet 
 
 Hoïvr couM G 
 
 and mak^ her 
 
 ftip wasjvhat 
 
 rôî- the- fijbst ti 
 
 «nderstanS hei 
 
 It was becai 
 
 <Sh| had risen, and was standing on tbet step above hinu I ^^ she was tir 
 
 |£^^4i'.'-''*ï«i»''j 
 
 Her heart. 
 
 whic 
 
«ï;'fe 
 
 ";;V''/^X.' '•>"':' ■:^'^'-^ 
 
 
 Gi 
 
 yo» ,f not want tohC Sl?^, 'P^H°8 »'»«'» »f love 
 I«ha|al*ày, love you ^é it sUf JL'^'^P doping; and 
 a»y e er cornes when vn,, „ ? "^ "■ silence. So if tha 
 
 '.M, dear, it wiu „ever cÔme iS ^««""fW"»' " But, • » 
 Butjou-l)ron,i8e." * ■ ^ ™»st say that noj^" 
 
 :* lei/'sheansweredjnberlv "!„„•*, 
 , He I )ok at her attfïHHtr. ^' ^Promise." 
 hesaid j^ "«■•«'««ddy a moment " Ged bless you, dear," 
 
 head be&tho^^llf h^dtfi" 5 -£?»'• -"h avèrent 
 
 CllAPrEB ÏIL , ' . 
 
 J«btile%frir4Tchl8Teithlî '*'?°°' ^^^'^^^^ t'»at night; the 
 l>oth, witi ^hich a vo„nf* PT °°^ P"^®' and vet seem« 
 
 having wfunded her oîd^S^^d Tr"''''^"'"".^ «^ g"«^ ^t 
 once, and yet she did nnf i t® *^^ ^*"ie into her bvm ' 
 
 and mak^ her hâve to sa^ l^o/^^îH/^ *« *^k ^hût way 
 
 ^phe. fitet timf i^hèr ^^^ came; and 
 
 «nder^tai^herown heart ?? ' ^'^'^ ^^^^' I^i« could not 
 
 ?«d sMS-^îlïf^ ^^Hf «'^«^ Bhe saW to be«eliL ^ 
 
 ) 
 
 l:if 
 
 ■' J 
 
 y 
 
 
 TïT' 
 
■.-•"•vyç 
 
 
 ', *?-■■•■•'■■■ 
 
 20 
 
 JOHN WABD l'REACHER. 
 
 
 
 Bii't Lois was young. The next morniDg, when she pushed 
 ba.ck her Windows, sbe felt joy bubble up in her soûl as un- 
 restrainedly as though she had never soid a word to Gitlbrd 
 wKich could make his heart ache. The résistance and spring ci 
 the climbing roses made hër lean ont to faaten herlattices bapk, 
 and a shower ot dew sprinkled her hair and bosom ; and at ^ 
 the sudden clear song of the robbin under the eaves, she stoç^ ' 
 breathless a moment to listen, with that simple gladness ot^'« 
 liviiig which is'perhaps a suprême Unselfishness in its cintire 
 unGonsciousness of individual joy. 
 
 Jiut like the rest of tlje world, Lois %nd tl^at, such mo- 
 ments do uot last? the remembrancef^ the night before 
 forced itself upon ber, and she tumed to g^doWn-stairs, with 
 a troubled face. ^ 
 
 Of course tl)e're is plenty to' do the day after a wedding, 
 and Lois was glad to hâve tl^ occupation ; it was a relief "to 
 
 be buey.. - ^^'^ •; .. 
 
 Ashuist ladies always washed the breakfast things thèui- 
 aelves ; no length o| service màde it seem proper to trust tj^e ^^ 
 old blue china aûd the délicate glass to the servant^. %I|^ 
 wiped her cups and saucers, and then, standing on a chaiî m„,^ 
 the china-closet, put the dessert plates with the fine gilt 
 pattern boidèi s, which had been used yesterday, ou the very . 
 b^ck ol the top shelf, in such a quick, decided waj^that Jean 
 "trembléd for their sàfety. . . '] 
 
 Tfie rectory diûing-room was low-stùdded, apd ligbted by 
 one wide latticed window, which had a (iùsh|j|i|d^^. ^^ith 
 àfull valaixce of flowere4 <!Éîîit? ; the dimiiMMjfc ^^^^^ 
 always pushed back, for Br. Hoye was fondpHIpVBfre. \In 
 the open fire-place, betwéen the bras^^, stood à blue jug 
 
 " id with white lilacs, and the big punch-bowl on the side- 
 ' was crowded with roses. There weïe antlers over the - 
 pictures on the walls were of game and lish, 
 waôtia bearskin, which was one of the rector's 
 
 » by a ipHt iblè which • h eld a gre^t ^an of hot 
 
 .,^_^, hàd a 1^-hàndïëd mop in hei-^SSd' and a sofr 
 
 tcSeî over her arm, and she washed and wiped some wine- 
 glasses with slender twisted stemsTaud sparkling bowls, and 
 then put them on their shelves in the corner cldsét, where 
 
 ^ 
 
 l 
 
k^» 
 
 ,» 
 
 / 
 
 rOIW WARD, PRBACHBK. 
 
 l::'^>-'=.-"^i 
 
 the oi^n window "* ^ '^^ «unshine. pouriiiy through 
 
 ni|?V|^iiients. '' ^ ** " ^"^ T^s deliberate-iu her 
 
 sniooth. "' ^'' «""' P"U>"« .*<jl Angers aJmight anf 
 
 "Tndeed, Miss Deiwah Ihere i, i,„.i,- 
 lois nnswered. smilin., „zl , î «<"n">g »>ore to do". 
 
 of the <i,n,er cCet * ' "'°""' ""^ brass-hinsed dooi 
 
 - ^0 crédit to Jean's hi„^k^P^'°.P7'P;'''?«'.f ^"""Mves 
 ' hop.he'll liave a nia d Who T„?^ ' i."'*''"* ""«^ <•»! And I 
 
 hâve written oùt directioné fo?l,erX„ '^ a «ro„g way. I 
 withlinll^rise*^ ™"'«'' offforafortnight," Lois^aid. 
 
 heâ^ - tïAe îit^eTaTtrlillf ' ",^''°-^ """<l-g ^ 
 Wed,_" I thought 80 to/- l™! i f above her ears trem- 
 
 'goin^t once. A°t 1,^» sto.tL f "'^'" ^^ '^^ ''««'as 
 ►Ruth and I thi«k itït fo TKTT.' ''''^"' Y"^' ■ 
 
 - ôiffo^ ti i^;,::^ St^t™'' }?r:™»« "- ^-''«. • ■ 
 
 | ^adn-tn oticedit,"^idLoie • ' ^ 
 
 ^»Bo,eertei 
 
 but it's no sÏT,rise to me I aiw»™ *S it^îï^ *« •*«*»> : 
 8"-^ old ,en4h. dea.-Si^ a jr^aiJjrcaS'^ t J 
 
 «BÎrffi^S^ciîtf- *" ^*»' 
 
 ,^^ 
 
 •i; 
 
 '.!;-,»»>; ., 
 
:>' 
 
 ■t- 
 
 22 
 
 JOHN WARD, PKEACHER. 
 
 ..* 
 
 another ; ancl so I don't wonder thàt he lias l)een feelbig some- 
 disappointment since he came home, though I had written- 
 him she was engaged — Much too. yoiing she Was, too, in Ijiy 
 jlidgment." 
 
 Lois's astonishment was so great that she dropped her Inop,^ 
 and Miss Deborah looked at her reproVingly over her glasses, 
 ".Oh. yes, there's no doubt Gifford ^elt it," she said, " but 
 he'll get over it. Those things do not last with men. Yoif 
 know 1 would n't speak of this to any one but you, but he's 
 just like a brother to you.'' 
 
 " Yes, exactly like a brother," Lois said hurriedly, ^ and I 
 think I should hâve known it if it had been — had liteen ihat 
 way." ,, 
 
 " No,'' said Miss Deborah, putting down the last glass, " I 
 thiok not. I only guessed it myself last night ; it is ail over 
 now ; those things never last. And very likely he'll meet some 
 nice girl in Lockhaven who will make him happy ; indeed, I 
 should n't wonder if we heard he was taken with somebody 
 at once . liearts are often caught on the rebound! I don't 
 know," Miss Debôrah aàded candidly, " how lasting an attach- 
 mmat formed on a previous disapppintment might be ; and 
 dear me 1 he does feel her marriage yery much." 
 
 Hère Sally came in to take away the pan and niop, and 
 Lois looked about to see if» there was anything more to do. 
 She was very anxious to bring Miss Déborah's , conversation 
 to an end, and grateful that Jeah should corne \and ask her- 
 to take some siher, borrowed for yesterday's festivities, back 
 to Mrs. Dale. 
 
 " It's thèse spoons," the old woman explained to Miss 
 Deborah. " Mrs. Dale, she lent us a dozen. l've counted em 
 ail myself ; I would n't trust 'em to that Sally. If there was 
 a hair's difterence, Mrs. Dale would know it 'fore she set eyes 
 on them, let aloùe havin' one of our spoons 'stead of hers." 
 
 Miss Deborah nodded her head. " Very ■ likely, Jean/' she 
 said ; " l've not a doubt of it. l'm going now, and Miss Lois 
 ■will walk along with me. Yes, Mrs, Dale would set^ if auy- 
 
 ling^ïra^s^wrdng, you eaiTTlepand npon Tt.^ 
 
 ' They set , out together. Lois listening absently to Miss 
 l)éborah's çhatter about the wedding, and vaguely glad when 
 at the gâte of her àunt's house, she could leave her, with a 
 pretty bow, which was half a couitesy. , 
 
 /V "1 
 
 There \ 
 
 was felt 
 
 sphinxes, 
 
 front door 
 
 not appro^ 
 
 . «upported 
 
 Windows. 
 
 of cream-c 
 
 to"Soften ij 
 
 aûd the f 
 
 flowers, ex( 
 
 fectly kept 
 
 On the e 
 
 t>f Mr. Dah 
 
 there were 
 
 the stables ; 
 
 "I do c 
 
 gardens'; flo 
 
 ând weeds t 
 
 how the Wo 
 
 oftheirs. Bi 
 
 manager Un] 
 
 Lois founc 
 
 Siie was sitt] 
 
 scorned the 
 
 . legged table, 
 
 wood ^rim inl 
 
 thirteen grou 
 
 at intervais o 
 
 " Well,Lo 
 
 hâve brdught 
 
 her eyebrows 
 
 card slowly j 
 
 glancedat the 
 
 because I mui 
 
 cake. T hflt 
 
 J 
 
 niother to-day 
 
 be idle. I decl 
 
 which the rela 
 
 She stoppée 
 
M '.- 
 
 > , . , ^ ' ' ;^ ' 
 JOHN WARD, I^REACHER. 
 
 ^-P 
 
 28 
 
 sphinxes, was mLl Thol ® P^^^ay, with its frowning 
 
 not approve of fad^d '^p.^:! "^ ^r^^' ^«^ ^^s. Dale did 
 
 ..«pAvI/:^^^^^^^ véranda. 
 
 Windows. There wa<? no fa ,.^i^ * aarjcened the ^econd-story 
 
 to-Soften ihe ste with It^ > '""^^^^ngs. nor eventrees 
 
 flowers, except for a sHff !«• ^^-'^^Pj^^e was unrelieved by 
 fectiy kepUawn '^'^^^"«^^n m foliage plants on the per- 
 
 there were a few S'and beeoh ?." ^^^f^l^'^ S^ow, and. 
 the stables; but theTewere sT^JlT' '"^ ^' ^'^^«^'^ ^^^e 
 
 . V do dislike," sa^uTTi^'^Tr'A^'- ^^^^ 
 gardens': flowers and ^.nn2 '. ^ . "" "^ ^° ^'«^^^e unt dy 
 ^nd weeds too,1f the Sstfl'T' '" «^«^ded together, 
 how the WoocÙiLe oirTs c^f,,^^^^ never coulçl undeîstand 
 of theirs. But theTa wo,nr^ ^^^T '^^^ ^^^''^^^" «^^ pltice 
 manager Unless she's nZied '' '' ^''' "^'^^ ^ really^good 
 
 ^h^;Jrtt^irr^^^^^^^^ 
 
 ^'corned the w^akness of « rn^ '1 ?hair,---for Mrs. Dale 
 .legoed table, cove^edvWth ^'.f ^"r^'^-'^before a spindle- 
 
 woSd^rim inla^rthmôtt fnr ^?^^^»d with a cheiry. 
 
 thirte^n groups of carr.nT^T^'^^"^ ^^«^3^- 0« it wefe 
 , at interv^s orhdf aninch °'^ ""''^ geometrical exactness 
 
 w'S^^Xe'^^^^^^^ ~ .«Oh, you 
 
 her eyebrows knitt d and W Le 1 n'.rT^P'^^ ^''''^^' 
 card slowly and décide ir^hiT S ^"""'^ ont. to lift a 
 glancedat the girl over her atl« '"r "^'^^ ''- ^i^^n she 
 because I must soinLthflTt ^"^ J'^^* ^^^^^«8 hère 
 
 beidle. Idecte the^Tsnl^^^^^^ But I cannot 
 
 which the ^.latWés'o^TemnTfS^^^^^ "'^"""^ - ^»^« -^ in 
 
 She stopped hère long enoughtocount the 3iK>ons, and 
 
 1^ 
 
 
24 
 
 f^' 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACIIEK. 
 
 S 
 
 }ver, to talk 
 which did 
 
 then began her garae agaîu. She was able, how 
 while she played, and pointed out various thing: 
 
 - not "go quite right " d$ the wedding. 
 
 The parler at Dale hou8e was as exact and drjeary «.s the 
 garden. The whole room suggested to Lois, wàtching her 
 aunt play solitaire, and the motes dancing in the narrow 
 streaksof sunshi ne which fell'between the bowed shutters, 
 and acrofs the drab carpet to the white wainscotiing on the 
 other sido, the pictures in the Harry and Luty books, or the 
 parler wherç, on its high mantel shelf, Eosamond kept her 
 purple jar. 
 
 She wondered vaguely, as Mrs. Dale moved her cardé 
 csrefully about, whether her aunt had ever been " bothered '^ 
 about anything.-Helen's marriage peemed only an iiicidentto 
 Mrs. Dale ; the wedding and the weather, the dresses and the 
 présents, which had been a breathless interest to I^is, were 
 apparently of no more importance to the older woman than 
 the building up a suit. 
 
 "Well," Mrs. Dale said, when she had exhausted the 
 subject of the wedding, "I am sure I hope it will turn out well,. 
 but I really can't say. Ev*r since l've seen this Mr. Ward 
 l've somehow felt that it was* an experiment. In the first 
 place, he's a nian of weak will, — l'm sure of thfet, because he 
 seems perfectly ready to gi^ e way to Helen in everything ;- 
 and that isn't as it ought to be, — the man should rule ! And 
 then, besides that, whoever heard of his people ? Came from. 
 the South Romewhere, I believe, but he could't tell me the first 
 name of his great-grandfather. I doult if he ever had any,. 
 between ourselves. Still, I hope for the best. And l'm sure 
 I trust," she added, with an uneasy recollection of the cake in 
 
 . the oven, "she won't hâve trouble with servants. I déclare, the 
 happines.s of married liie is in the hands pi your cook. If 
 Betty had not gone ofï' tbis uiorning I should bave corne over 
 to the rectory to help yoii. iChere's so much to do after a 
 
 * wedding." 
 
 -Qb^ you^'r»v^rykiHdj^'-saidLei6^4^^ irtbiflk-Jeaa^B^^ 
 
 ^%^J.-'r-, 
 
 lucky yo 
 . own, you 
 •of housel 
 " l'm 
 
 shiiling. 
 
 "That 
 proiuptly 
 married a 
 chance o 
 did. Th( 
 going. E 
 just like 1 
 could see 
 happy uni 
 " I thiu 
 girl could 
 Tyrant ? 
 
 " Nonse 
 
 husband t( 
 
 better. I 
 
 are destiti 
 
 sure the ' 
 
 and wliy r 
 
 I think Ar 
 
 does. My 
 
 them stay i 
 
 he isn't do 
 
 town." 
 
 " Indeed, 
 cried Lois, 
 perfectly hf 
 " Doa't b 
 no one love 
 thirty-four ; 
 your good, i 
 yo u we re 
 
 can see to things. Miss Deborah came to help me, but we 
 were really quite in order." 
 
 " Miss Deborah !" said Mrs. Dale. " Well, l'm glad if she 
 could be of any use ; çhe leally is so unpractical. > But it's 
 
 %^M' 
 
 
 
 ^W 
 
 i:-n^ 
 
 She stoop 
 again in litt 
 an iuipatieni 
 
 " Thèse lii 
 
JOHN WARD, PREACHÈk; 
 
 25 
 
 n/ 
 
 lucky you hâve Jean. Just wait tiU vou aet a hn,,.- «f 
 
 s„m!i,g. '" ■"' '"'^"' ''"■ " h»"»-' «f my own.»,aid the girl, 
 p.-om'paf '" YoK'? f^^''^'- '>"i'Y'-t»™«d Mrs. Dale 
 
 <IiVl Ti;„ • ""t • °" 80 away to make a visit m IMon 
 
 airl in^Jf^K ^^ ^^^ best judj,^e of that'," Lois ans wered " ^ 
 Tvrant ^/>?r" '^^^ ^ ^"^ ^ to hear father Tal me his 
 
 ^Nonsense! said Mrs. Dale decid^dlv " rf ,.^ i, w 
 
 èS"' rr." 'z "f Ty-" i' wo'S a ti "a «i: 
 
 oettcr. r déclare, I always think, when we nrav for • »ll Jh^ 
 "re th' t.,'"? oppressed,' it seems tù^c^VZmlt 
 sure 1 16 fatherless children and widows ' «re f.h„„a „? 
 
 erild "lllf ' l ^"^ ^,7 r"'' "=" ^"^ anything of the sort i" 
 P^iaAapp^T^lte'?™^^''""^' '- ">« '-"' -«^ r» 
 
 tl>irty.four yei:rbeS e'was'y'oTrtthef T onlvl 'f "/' 
 LTiA-" '"- ^""■t- ofoou»a'tXu/d° te^^? 
 
 a-frxn S iT '° ^.*'*i" l'^' »"J^ "P^ and deal them out 
 Thèse httle resUess waya you hâve are veay «npleasauti» 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 È!> 
 
 
 .1»^;,'^ 
 
'*i 
 
 
 .-...-^'i»:^? 
 
 26 
 
 JOHN WARD, PKEACHER, 
 
 8he said; "my girls never did such things. I don't kuow 
 where you get your unladylike habits ; not from your father^» 
 l'm sure. I suppose it's because you don't go out at alj ; you 
 never see anybody. There, that reminds me. I hâve had a 
 letter from Arabella Forsythe. I don't know whether you 
 remember the Forsythes ; they used to visit hère ; let me see, 
 fifteen years ago was the last time, I think. Well, they are 
 going to take the empty hou^e near us for the summer. She 
 was a Eobinson ; not really Ashurst people, you know, not 
 born hère, but quite respectable. Her father was a button 
 manufacturer, and he left, her a great deal of money. She 
 married a person called Forsythe, who has since died. She 
 has oue boy, about your âge, who'll be immensly rich one of 
 thèse days ; he is not married. Heaveu knows when Ashursi^ 
 will see an eligible young man again, ' she added ; and then,. 
 absently, " Eight on a nine, and there's a two-spot for my 
 clubs!" \ 
 
 " I wonder if I rômember Mrs. Forysthe ?" Lois said, 
 wrinkling her pretty fbrehead in a puzzled way.. "Wasn't 
 she a tall, thin lady^ith a pleasant face ?" 
 
 " YeSj" answeredJÉfs. Dale, nodding her sleak head, -'yes,. 
 rather pleasant, but^malancholy. And no wonder, talking 
 about her aches and pains ail the time 1 But that's where 
 the button manufacturer ihowed. She was devoted to that 
 boy of hers, and a very nice child he was too." She looked 
 sharply at her nièce as she spoke. 
 
 '• I remember him," Lois said. " I saw Gifford' shake him 
 once ; ' he was too little too lick,' he said," 
 
 l'm afraid Gifford is very rough and unmanly sometimes," 
 Mrs. Dale said. " But then, those Woodhouse girls couldn't 
 l)e expected to know how to bring up a big boy." 
 
 " I don't think Qiit is unmanly," cried Ix)is. 
 
 " Well, not exactly," Mrs. Dale admitted ; " but of course 
 he isn't like Mr. Ferysthe. GiÔbrd hasn't had the oppor- 
 tuuities, or the money, yoii know." 
 
 "• I don^t think, money iapt^^ ^ saidLois, 
 
 *' I don't think money has anything to do with mannera." 
 
 !', Oh, you don't know anything about it ?' cried Mrs. Dale. 
 " There I you made me make a mistake, an4 lose my game. 
 Pray do not be silly. Lois, ànd talk in that emphatic w^y ; hâve 
 
 
 A little lïn 
 
 différent f 
 
 there is ui 
 
 your invii 
 
 You puucl 
 
 cornes out 
 
 Lois lau 
 
 "Tell V 
 
 Mrs. Dale 
 
 iind rappîi 
 
 said to lier 
 
 . winter in t 
 
 îface wlieu, 
 
 pushed the 
 
 I thougl 
 
 ■deprecatin^ 
 
 He wore 
 
 the waist w 
 
 silk handke 
 
 bis head frc 
 
 one finger -v 
 
 "She wa 
 
 telling lier 
 
 thing ; nothi 
 
 " What d 
 
 " Mean ?" 
 
 You hâve ne 
 
 • " Oh," sai( 
 
 love ?" 
 
 "-.Well, re 
 and tapping 
 husband caii 
 maker, and r 
 on^! Fall 
 positively in( 
 
 Forsythe, I g 
 Arabella to tj 
 "Oh, you 1 
 "I wrote 
 
 

 .- ,n=". 
 
 .JOHN WAKD, PftEACHER. 
 
 27 
 
 come?outiustwhereltUri;. •'""'' "' impression, and it 
 Lois laiighed, and rose to iro 
 
 ^d rapt^^n. f c" the' TT ''T' '""''T''^ ^'^ '^^^^ 4 
 
 said tu herself, " But perhansVf^uWfT" '"*" ''''«^' ^" 
 
 "> A^ 1 1,^ ^ ^'^^ *^ ^^ necessaiy to hâve a 
 ' ^^'i< there vvas a orini sort of sniile 
 
 pushed the doorope", aîl^î*:;,,:^:;/'*' '" " '"''■'"""8 ™y- 
 
 .Uk handke^hie" 'r; /rt ^^r hTs'whT C' .'' "'' ''"* 
 J..S head fro,„ possible draughteTn L W haT 1 T**"' 
 
 ;;Whatdoyoumean?;askedMr.Dale. , 
 j^ Jh, sau. her husband meekly,?.y„„ ^'.^nt them to fall in 
 
 audlppin?"!;." S ïï;mr'!^,''"?i"«,'^'^ in her chair. 
 h«sta„7ca,"telXTne w^L L-^t not see how my 
 
 Forsythe, I should on h?f pp? T i a^ '^ '^^"^^ ^^ Mi-. 
 
 Oh, you utïjed her ?" 
 "I wrote he^.^shur3t was vfry pleasant," Mrs. Dala 
 
 ^%' 
 
 h' 
 
 ; 
 t f 
 
 
 
 
 ".i.. 
 
 
 ^iïv 
 

 
 28 
 
 J0MN WARD, PKEACHÈK. 
 
 acknowldged, " and it was considered healthy. (I understand 
 Arabella !) I know her soS was going abroad later in the 
 summer, but I thought, if he once got hère "— 
 " Ah," responded Mr. Dale. 
 
 CHAPÏER IV. 
 
 John and Helen had not gone at once to I^ckha^-en ; they 
 spent a fortnight in wanderi^g about througli the mountains 
 on horseback. The sweet June weather, the crystal fresliness 
 of the air, and the melodious stillness of thp jvoods and fields- 
 wrapped thosefirst heavenly daysof entire possession in a 
 ïnist of joy. Aftèrwards, John Ward felt that it had blinded 
 the eyes of bis soûl, and drifted b^wéen him and his hfghçst 
 duty ; he had not been-able to tum away from the gladness- 
 of living in her présence to think of what had been, during ail 
 their engagement, an anxiety and grief, and, he had promised 
 himself, should be his earliest thought when she became his 
 wife: — the unsaved condition of her soûl. ' 
 
 When he had first seen her, before. he knew he loved her, 
 he had realized wîth distress ànd terrorhow far she was froni 
 what he called truth ; how indiffèrent to what was the most 
 important thing in the whole world to him,— spiritual know- 
 ledge. He listened to what she said of her "ùncle's little 
 Episcopal church in Ashurst, and heard her laugh good- 
 naturedly about the rector's sermons, and then thought of 
 the doctrines whick were preached irom his own pulpit in* 
 Lockhaven. ' 
 
 Helen had never listened to sermons full of the hopefulness 
 of prédestination; she frankly s^id she did not believe that 
 Adam was her fédéral head and représentative, and that she, 
 
 referez Ayas born in «in. '^ l'm a sinner,*' she said, saîlînfy" 
 we're ail misérable sinners, you know, Mr. Ward, and^ 
 perl^aps we ail sin in original ways ; but I don't believe in 
 original sin." 
 
 ',. , M 
 
 
 A': 
 
 ' When 
 
 with gra 
 
 tliink si 
 
 iipon the 
 
 " But 
 
 we muât 
 
 judgmeni 
 
 "Ifyo 
 
 if you ca 
 
 unjust. 
 
 than to d 
 
 when yoi 
 
 "But 
 him. 
 
 "Itdoe 
 •said, smU 
 ••TheBih 
 Jews, as 
 that, unie 
 tion, I do] 
 says.' " 
 
 "And j 
 
 said slowl 
 
 ":No,"] 
 
 Itwasi 
 
 or to critic 
 
 home, witl 
 
 Howe's be 
 
 soul.tb hav 
 
 beautiful n 
 
 the darkni 
 
 truth. 
 
 As he sa 
 passiouate 
 before he c 
 he said to 
 salvationr 
 Christ, or s 
 people couf 
 the woman 
 
 ■tïUti.V'j-' ~. .w J;r.-s.i^..;' 
 

 JOHN WAKD, PlfEACHER. 
 
 29 
 
 ^ itl grave surprise in lier calin l»rown eves. « How can xcm 
 
 tlnnk sueh a thing ï' she aske<l. " It^ seeins fo me a IM 
 
 iipon the goodness of God." ^^ 
 
 " But justit^e, ]\^iss Jeffrey," lie said anxiously ; and surely 
 
 jîS^ î'^"'"f «^'^^^ righteousness and justice oŒ 
 
 if v5 ^""n STJ^^^ ^^'^ '^'*^"^^ ««"•^l a soiil to heU forever 
 m^u.V t'^^ t'' J^^»r"'' ^* ^^^"^« ^« °^« unrighteous In l 
 hin . 1 "^J'K^^^" ^^^^'^^ '^^ "« Sweater heresy^Mf. Ward 
 
 « «r 1 ^^?i'' more cruel then even men could he ?" 
 hùn sa^'s "-he begah, w^en she intemiptea 
 
 " It does iiot seem wo^th wlnlô to say, ' the Bible savs ' " she 
 
 ihe Bible vas the history, and poetry, and politirs of the 
 Jews,as well as their code of etliics and their lituroy • so 
 
 fa^s'.' » '""^ '^"' '">• "' ''^^ '-ii-gument, ' the Bible 
 
 saidlfotfy" ^^°^^^li^^'^ "» it^ verbal inspiration?" he 
 
 " No," Htelen answered, " I could not." 
 or fn'î^^r"^*^ ^'''■' '^u*'° ^^^^ ^« ^'^ ^«^ she had been taught 
 
 home w rL'"''^'!. "^^"^^'^^'^ ^°«"^"«^' ^"^ -« he walked 
 Howl''., i • ^"^^^S' downcast eyes, he wondered what Dr 
 Howesbelxef could be, and how it had been possible for her 
 
 beautiful nature stirred hira with profound admiratioS wasin 
 the^^darkness of unbelief ; she hSd- never bL taughfc the 
 
 As he said this to himself, John Ward knew, with sudden 
 passionate tenderness, that he loved her. Yet t was monthi 
 WaTd LT"' T/ '^.l'^ ^T ^^^^^ ^^ght had he tolove her ? 
 
 Sf ? ■ ^ **?.?• unbdiever ; she had never corne to 
 Chmt, or she would hâve known the truth. His dutv to his 
 people canfronted him with ils uuoompromising cWm thl? 
 the woman whon. he should bring £b Lip himV hr^tort 
 
 '•• l 
 
 r^ 
 
 >;■ 
 
 
 \ti;- 
 
 tf(>J.-,^j' ^<Ai K M 
 
 . ^^^u 
 
^yji ,*• - j,'. %\ •-1^, 
 
 (k j^;. 
 
 'â»J '""' iV ^*^,■*7^i^^^J^''V^,^'^"3^*^.<VC^'■'^'^^ 
 
 » il 
 
 39 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 John Ward'8 yras an intellect that could not hold a belief 
 S!? /S *5\T"tions of time or circumstances Onœ 
 acknowledged by hïs soûl, its growth was ended • it bardent 
 
 w^n^Uhaiïl.d'}''^/"^' in complète- sls/"^^^^ 
 was not that he did not désire mare light ; it was simplv xhat 
 he could not coneeive that there might be more li^.^^ And 
 ^nting his prem».e that the Bible was directly inspired by 
 
 S^;nïfaS^o"H"HT'^ in holding with a Vhetfc anl 
 paient faith to the doctrines of the Presbyteiian Church 
 
 Helen'8 belief was as différent as was her mode of thou-ht 
 It was perhaps a development of her own nature ratherth^n 
 ^ S^h^mt-^l/""^^'^ teaching,though she had been^^^^^^^ 
 ol th?H??K "f/ ''^'' '"^"' ^" ^*^^ ^^J^^" her to hisownliome 
 on thj death of her parents, when she was a little child ' 'Ëe 
 a good girl. my dear," Dr. Howe would say Se she LrnpH 
 her çatechism and was confinned just before she ient to 
 boardmg-shool as was the custom with Ashurst younglomen 
 ^Z^.:^.^^^' *^^.^^r^ ^enner dre^w w^oIdS 
 
 I chords from the organ,' and she 
 
 modestyoungwon^n/ta 
 
 2any da' "''' '" '^' ^'^^'^"^^ '' '^^^'^'^y ^^^^ f^^ 
 But this was before she met John Ward. After those fir^t 
 
 anxious questions of his, Helen began to m derstÏÏ h^w 
 
 He? f™7J t' '^'i^ "P«5/eligion. BSt she did no tS about 
 o^eX p'ir""^;)""' ^'Snitythe questions which began to 
 ome by caUmg them doubts ; how ôould they be doubts 
 hen she had neverknown whac she had believed' S bv 
 
 [egrees, she built up a belief fur herself " ' ^ 
 
 Love ot' good was really love of God in her miud Heaven 
 
 meant nghteousness, and hell an absence of what was b™ 
 
 death belore it was overtaken by hell. It was verv simili 
 
 and very short, this creed of hei-s; yet it was the TorTay 
 
 ^roi^^hich grief^nd^ience wer e to come. -t^.trj^ 
 
 •Thère was uo détail* of religions tbought with Helen- 
 
 nia- 
 
 û^i'jf^ 
 
 î.' 
 
 a:.' 
 
JOHî^ WARD, PREACHB|R. J. gj 
 
 Jeffrey ; ideas présente* llheraselves to her mind wJfh o 
 
 he had any Sghî'-Jfe'k Lerrr""' "' '"'"''« '"™''"' « 
 loved Ire ZTZôZ X^ '^T'^'T^''"''"-^ 
 
 BEmmmm 
 
 candfd as Ws We ^' ""^ ""' '"-«"'"«''"g was a, aimplland 
 
 V 
 
 ', rt>< ^.4 fc ' 4 JnSi », . , ' 
 
 ■-.i*!. •?. 
 
32 
 
 t • JOHN WARD, PREACHKR. 
 
 majesty of the tyuth ; and their Irttle house. w^ich was to be 
 
 It was a very lîttle hciise. this parsonage. Its sham pitch 
 ^was pulled well down bve/dts eyl. whicU SCur 
 square slunmg Windows, dividéd into twenly-four small 
 C?«f/^r' "" ^"".f ^'^^^^^^ ^°^ dimples^th^t they Tade'^^ 
 opposite hâve a srrange bendin it. ^ > 
 
 n/!ff f^f' ï"^-^ ^'"'^ not agréât manj bocks. m'!co«ld 
 not âfford them, tor one reason ; but, with a row. of Eikards 
 gid, aome of Dr. Samuel Hopki.'.s' sennons, and pamRby 
 
 Kanll V^veakei. âge, the^ teachings of Dr. Jonathan , 
 
 lî J^l^M^'-^'i'"^^^' '■'"'■P^^ '^'^^ ''''''' down to the napiu a 
 aWrb^ef in\t'T '' '''' '-«k-shelves, wher.he used to'stand 
 fSin ^ . ^'"t *''• '^'^^^'^ •'« walkeJQ)ack and forth, 
 thmkingouthisdaïkand threatening seriôojis.^ For before 
 his marnage John preached tJie law ra^ther than the gospel 
 
 said, the Saturday n.èrning after tlieir return. . '« Tt's odd that 
 I ve neyer heard you, and weVe known each other il th^ 
 
 «l,??/""' V''^ ^^^J"' ^"^* ^^'"^ ^■««ted her hand lightlv on his 
 
 h^rt/;- ?v T ^^°^'° ^'' P^^^' and turned to îook^np fnto 
 her face Perhaps you .will not like niy «ermons •" there 
 was a httle wistJnhiess in his dark eyes as he spokè. ' " 
 
 , Uh, yes, I shall, she said, with smiling certaintv « Sei-- 
 mons are pretty muc,h alike, don't you thiuk ? 1 know sorne 
 of uncle Archie's ahnost by he;ut. Really, there is onlV one 
 thing to say, and you hâve to keep sayini it over and over" 
 We cannot say it too often," John auswered. "The choice 
 l^tween eternal.life aud eternal ùeath should soundinthe 
 ears of unconyerted nien every day of their Jives " 
 Helenshook her head. "I didn't mean that ,John. I was 
 
 uf Winess,**^ And thèh shë àddedr 
 
 \Mn^h7arr.\ UT r^^^ "\ «uimess, Ana then she added. 
 wi h a smile, "I hope you don't preach any awful doctrines?' 
 , «Sometimes the truth is terrible, dear," he said gentry 
 
 Bii]b wh( 
 
 long while 
 
 such wordj 
 
 'sermon aw 
 
 be leés of « 
 
 •of God filo^ 
 
 itmighton 
 
 as well as i 
 
 So he to( 
 
 text from 
 
 saitrthe L 
 
 But whe 
 
 littleof seri 
 
 had no looi 
 
 any thing h( 
 
 S\iô weni 
 
 upoji her li] 
 
 maid, Alfar 
 
 house. Sh( 
 
 had been pi 
 
 end of the 
 
 cheerily, wii 
 
 caught the i 
 
 . "Oh, Alfa: 
 ment. "Ho\ 
 stood still, it 
 her^od^nat 
 faced, happj 
 scents and se 
 her cheerful 
 
 -'W 
 
 
JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 Bill; whenshe haa lef't him to write his sertnon L ««f . 
 long whilelCmnking.^ Surely she was dot readv v^ Jh 
 such words as he had meanf to sprk. H^wonld Ijî Ïm« 
 
 as we 1 as mercy. She is not able to bear it yet " ^ ^ 
 
 But wheji Helen weiit out of tlie study, she thou«ht vei-v 
 httle of sermons or doctrines. John filled her mind and sh^ 
 had no xoom for wondering about his beliefs ^iSd belieïe 
 anything he chose ; he was her8,-that was enouX ' 
 
 «poheTSraddTh'"^^^^^ ^-^^« ''^' 1-gering, 
 
 upon ner iips, add through its open doorway sâw her liffl^ 
 
 W srï"'/"''"^ H"/"'^"^ ^^-^^" at'^thebacko the'. 
 W t* \^^^ ^"^ ^^'^^''^ «^ fre«h vvhite tea-towels which 
 end oHhrrdV: ^V"" '''' ---^g--bery\T^!:;rt're 
 cLerilv wiffnll fh ^f ^a« «ommg up the path, singing 
 cneerily with aU ,the force of her strong vounc» lunaQ TfZû^ 
 caught the words as she drew ne^r :_ ° ^ ^^^"^ 
 
 «My thoughtaon awful subjects roU, 
 ^ Damnation and the dead. 
 
 What horrorB seize the guilty soûl 
 Upon thè dying hed I ' 
 
 ,, ' « Where endless crowds of sinners lie • 
 And darkness m^kes their chaîna,' 
 Torfured with keen despair they cry, 
 Yet wait for fiercer ^ins !" 
 
 Tortured with keen despair they cry, 
 , . Yet wait for fiercer pains !" 
 
 mén?^' Horofn" ?'' «^^«^ress «rieci, in indignant astoni«h- 
 ^Î^A f ir^ ^ '^°'' ^^y '^^^^ ^^e^ï-^We words !" Alfaretta 
 stood stiU, in open-mouthed ainazement, an iniured look in 
 
 faced, happy girl, standing in th. ..±i.;J J^^^ .^^T 
 
 TerpW^r^^'r^ ^^y^^y ^^'''' h^r, ind sinSng in 
 her cheerful voice thèse bopeless words, almost mad^flen 
 
 ?y 
 
 lir »+»5i<it»4<.ft 
 
 ■?*- ' 
 
34 
 
 JOHN \VARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 wnUé ; but she added gravely. " ï honp vnn «m'II « * • it 
 again. I do not like it " ^ ^ ' """^^ ^"'8^ '^'^^^ 
 
 ^ But it ^ ail hke- that ; it says "— 
 
 T h»?'"'''^^^^" ""^î"^ '"^^^'" H«^en said. '• IVe heardenouah 
 I had 110 idea such awful words were wnttL"ThV' 
 
 Alfarettasfather was an elder in John's church wl.inK 
 
 Alfarettà stood with lier Dliimn r^,^ h^^Ac x. ,• 
 
 regSrded Mrs. Ward with inteS " I W T ^'' ^'Ç'^ ^°^ 
 of'em'^shP «fliH ;. ^'•'" interest i had n't ever thought 
 
 meditatiyely on t&:Êi:fsti^l''' ^^^^«' *^- ^^«« «-d 
 
 «' Then swift aiid dreadfolBhe descends 
 
 Down to thefieiy coaat, 
 Amonifat abominable fiends' 
 
 V 
 
 ïes, that does sound rh^adful Worst nf ;t ;« , [ T 
 
 - to_-e™. and don. notice .. Ir "4]îyri«g T^ 
 
 
 " .i ^- -. 
 
 
 p,.'n.'M.i^f/..'&:.ts: 
 
■■'„■■■*■■ ■' , .^■•' ■•..";•■,-•. - • -, ^fl^ ' a^4' ^»v '•'■%^'»'^i 
 
 ,' 1 *"• if , " .^i 
 
 JOHN WARD, PKEACHEil. .' jj5 
 
 -for lie keeps ri^ht on i,, h/ ai,, . f ' VlT '''''>"'« '*' 
 
 to know that notlihi.r m„,t ZS -f ,„ '""' '«™ '""«gl'l' W 
 
 hearf your step " ' " ^*" "'" '*'«'"«' '"« «-gers. " î 
 
 bi^ o:e/tretS«f "''''^ ^""•" '"<' ----". -"".g at 
 teûIrXIt is'" '"■"'"'" "'^'- ^'-- ■■»'<' tl- stud, and 
 
 mistake about it L Alf!L1^„ Of course tbere is some 
 ticing i, and I ku^Vi^^^T^Xt Z^ ""' "-» P- 
 _ Do you remember what it was, dear V ' 
 
 thing\r„t?d:r£«terdS''""'''"' '^ '^=-'— 
 
 ho'Sbk.-''^' « hin. in .î^,ishm™t. -^ Why, ifs absurd ; it's 
 ■■wfwmTottl^r/J^r ■"?-'«. -« «-n be sigbed.. 
 
 hteral way to-day, or that hell it Jf waslflf h., • f f """ 
 
 irœ^i'''si:SgLT- 
 
 > ' V • 1 
 
 
 ^i jt.«£it^is&)i,^ 
 
36. 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 Yes, John ^aid, "it is as real to-day as God himselt-^ 
 as it always has beeii aud miist be ; and il is believed by 
 Christians as earuestly as ever. We cannot help it. Helen " 
 
 Helen lookedat him thoughtfully. " It is very terrible: 
 but oh. John, what sublime faith, to be able to believe God 
 «ipble of such awful cnielty, and yet to love and trust 
 
 ^J''^^\^T^ f^""- -^V^'^l*^»!^ Wright. " ' Though He slay me, 
 yet wJl I trust Hini,' " he sâid, vvith the simplicity of assur- 
 ance. But whenhe went back again to his sermon, he was 
 conymced that he had been wise to put oft'for a little while 
 the instruction m doctrine of which his wife's soûl stood in 
 such sore need. • . ^ i xu 
 
 .llv^rif'^^^'f ?' S"'?''^ ' " ^^" Light must côme gradu^ 
 ally, the j)laze of ti-uth at once would bli^d her to the per- 
 
 w^ me'c!y,^ta'' """^'^ ""' ^ "^^' '" «nderstand there 
 
 So. the choir was told the hymn would be " Welcome, sweet 
 day of rest," which, after ail. was much better suited to the 
 sermon. 
 
 OHAPTER V., , 
 
 Why the Misses WoodJiouse, and Mr. Dale, mid Mr. Don- 
 ner should go to the rectory for their Saturda;y night gaines 
 of whist was never very clear to any of them. The rectSr^i'd 
 not unders and the gaine, he said, and it wa^ perhaps to leam 
 
 .. T fflB ' 6 ODly ocicup at iBn wim U) bo usefal . Ashurat was 
 iTSS.t^ï'r'^ ""/""^ in thmking that it was a privilZ 
 
 JA 
 
 Il -v 
 
 
 A*w 
 
 True, Mr 
 
 ofîëred his s 
 
 close of the 
 
 conscioiis of 
 
 in his eyes, 
 
 Mr. Denner 
 
 to be, as he 
 
 life." He ha 
 
 how far the 
 
 and life in 1 
 
 try ; propert 
 
 when Mr. jj 
 
 deeds in the 
 
 and it was si 
 
 not be dispu 
 
 Yet Mr. I 
 
 He had hi 
 
 Michael's au 
 
 over, his litt 
 
 his hands be 
 
 were always 
 
 season when, 
 
 and in the c^ 
 
 cook was rea 
 
 the kitchen f 
 
 himself in -hii 
 
 Saturday ; an 
 
 cer, and ?at \ 
 
 studied his w 
 
 But thou*i 
 
 Denner woul( 
 
 lonely; and ^>. 
 
 was because s 
 
 Thèse weeli 
 
 The library ai 
 
 =iQg^^ m p o rtf 
 
 Mrs. Dale oui 
 
 tlemen might 
 
 sion of the lad 
 
 Mr. Denner's ^ 
 
1 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 ST 
 
 close of thanj.bber; but the little gentleman would Lve been 
 çonscions of distinct surprise had ?he accepted them for w' 
 mhiseyes,wa8stillalittlegirl. This w^s peS; tcaSse 
 Mr^Denner, at sixty-two, did net realize that he had ceased 
 
 Se^' Het 7'"^? Y' 'fP^T'^ '''' " ^ ge-«emanTn Se 
 hnw ff .i i''^ landmarks of great émotions to show him 
 how ar the sleepy yeai^s had carried him from his yoS' 
 and hfe m Ashurst was very placid. There were no cas^ to 
 try ; property farely vvent out'of families which had S ^t" 
 when Mr Denner's father vvrote their wills and drew up he r 
 deeds m the same brick office which his son œcuSnow 
 
 Hp^'L^''" i^'""""' ^'^^. ^'^'^^ ^"'^ ^^^ ^^« ^"li of occupation • 
 
 SLhLrsandA?rA?''î^' ^^ ''' ^i'" «^^^^^^^ «^ St" " 
 Micnaels and Ail Ano-els • and every day when dinner Was 
 
 Kanlthin'dt"" f ^PP^' ^^r ^^« ^^^i^' -^ «^«- wth. 
 
 were ahtvs h^^ fl^ 'î 'Tl' ^' ''^' '^"^'''-^ then there 
 were aiways his Aies and rods to keep in ofder armin^f H,a > 
 
 season when he and tho rector started^nlongfi hSr^^^^ 
 
 and m the cvenmgs. wlien WiUie had gone to bed a^k 
 
 cook was reading « The Death Beds of Eminent Sa^" bv 
 
 ^.i'if • '1-^'rV^'' ^""^"^ ^«^k^d out chess proCs bv 
 himse f m -his hbrary, or read Cavendish aàd thought oTnex^ 
 Saturday ; and besides ail this. he went once a week to Mef 
 
 sc^r s;^^*^^^« ^^ ^ ^-^ ^-^ ««^e' ^^ . 
 
 lonely^-andMar^^was certainly severe. He " suppos^nhat 
 was because she had no mistress to keep an, eye oTCr . 
 
 Thèse weekly games of whist were a^eat ^easure tohim 
 JJl'J-L'^L^^^^^^^^^^y ^«« cheerf uVapdthereZàflT: 
 
 iuL^ ■ u!^ looked on. It was understood that the oen- 
 t emen imght smoke, though the fornuUity Vf asking permS- 
 sion of he ladies and being urçed by them, dway^^^rpS 
 Mr. Denner 8 weekly remark to the Misaes Woodhouse in tZ: 
 
 I I 
 
 \ 
 
 
 ta^L^J'i •-% M ^ïiiLi^J 
 
 ^%^ 
 
 ^ !t «l'a 
 
 h . J'S> 
 
nit- 
 
 ww^p^wpip^ 
 
 WARD, l'KEACHEIÎ. 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 so charitable to our vices wewî 2l l~ i"^^^" ^^"^'^^ *^« 
 •on the part of Sallv Ai- P«nvf «^^ t>etokened much muscle 
 
 a boy to take ft triok, rirï» ^ ' ^°" ""S''» "<" "> »«<» 
 
 should hâve Henry's Slace h^^;r«L •? u ^ ^^^^^ ^er sho 
 theexcitement'' Mrf noi ^^^^'^^^^ wasn't equal tô 
 
 présent. ^^^^^ ^^'""^^ ^" ^^^ ^^^s of one person 
 
 MS^:,... "WftS 
 
 was qiiite right." ^ "^^^ * ^^°'^ ^^a<^> but it 
 
 ~\.¥. 
 
 "Ofcoui 
 rector said 
 so.» 
 
 Mrs. Da 
 tlow-seats, 
 l'ace. 
 
 "lasked 
 
 he must no 
 
 " Quite r] 
 
 but Mrs. Bi 
 
 it would ha 
 
 I certainly 
 
 to him." J 
 
 fait, under 
 
 seat vacate! 
 
 he had no <. 
 
 "Iwond 
 
 and putting 
 
 Mr. Porsytl 
 
 his mother 
 
 ing to be al 
 
 Mrs. Dal( 
 
 looked at Jj 
 
 book. 
 
 "Ithink, 
 
 ing at his wi 
 
 has one viev 
 
 "Don'tbc 
 
 bope there's 
 
 couiitry mor 
 
 in that way i 
 
 for Mr. JJeni 
 
 At the ne: 
 
 Mr. Dale. ' 
 
 mother told 
 
 aoriie unsuitt 
 
 he would see 
 
 said it really 
 
 it might." 
 
 Mrs. Dale 
 
 
«w)^' ^- 
 
 \.i 
 
 V 
 
 ;JOHN WAilD, PliEACH^. 
 
 if ' \ . • - 
 
 r« 1^^ '^''T® x'^ '^^^'" l'epliedMrs.Dale, décide dlv while th.v 
 rectorsaid, "Yes. young Forsythe said you sef K t^ 3^ 
 
 Mrs. paie glanced at Lois, sittinj. in one of tiie deeD win- 
 dow-seats, reading. with the lamplight shining Z her^pitTy 
 
 " I asked him to corne," continued the rector, " but he said 
 lie must not leave liis mother ; she was not feeling welP 
 
 Quite nght. very proper," murmured the rest.of the'partv 
 
 it L^îd ?'^' K^^'^' " ""^ '^^^^'« "« conversation. l'm ffrafd 
 
 T P^^^ 1 T ^?S^ "^"7 '^"P^^ '• I g"««« ^^ knew hat. Tnd 
 
 I certa mly should not hâve allô wed Henry togive up histeat 
 
 ohim; Asshesaidthis, she looked at Mr%enner who 
 
 fat vÏÏ^d i Ttl\"''".t"uT' ^^^"«"^^ hâve l^n'h^ 
 seat vacated, if Dick l^orsythe had corne. Mr. Denner siehed • 
 he had no one to protect him, as Dale had ^ ' 
 
 • 1 wonder" said Miss Deborah, who was sortinti her cards 
 andputtingallthetrumps at the rîght side. "whardedded 
 Hs mo'tZ'^' 'Vr^ the sunimerhlre l I «nderstood that 
 iïg St abroîd.'^^^^ '^"" ^" ^'^"^«^ J'^«^ h— h« -3 g«^^ 
 
 innî^'^"" ?^^«.H^ed her head until her glasses gUstened and 
 boked at Lois, but the girl's eyes were fasten^ed up^n her 
 
 " Vf^^k,;' r^ked Mr. Dale, hesitating, and then danc- 
 ing at his wife, "he is rather a changeable l^oung nl%e 
 
 ^' Zrj :;; ^.Tr^* ^^t ^^«^^er in k altercoon.-' 
 hnn. r ^ ^,f?«ï^«h' îîenry." said his wife, sharply. « I 
 hope there's nothing wrong in the young man finding his own 
 country mon, attractive than Europe ? To change his nSnd 
 
 fn. tf Ty '' T^' f?^'^''^"" ^"t ^'"« ^as in a hushed voke 
 for Mr Denner had led, and the room was sUent again ^ 
 
 Mr pl'"'^i?^i^^'*-^l^"^*^l?^^ sympathkcally at \ 
 mn;^ fi^ I thmk he 18 changeable." she said; "his own . 
 ^^l^^^ ïf '^^^ ^^^ ''^' constantly afraid he'd. ma^ 
 ^lAeuyitable young wo iTiA iu and the enl^^^ 
 ^ewouTdseeanewoneboë7eTtbecame t^ serioT^ S^ 
 
 rm4hr ^ ''^^ ""P^" ^'^ ^'"''^- ^«^^ °^«' I «hould thbk . 
 Mrs. Dale tossed her head, and her knitting-needles cUcked 
 
 ik: :', ,i .,... ,';.,.-'..* ' : -. • 
 
i ' ' ' 
 
 -40 
 
 •spv - 
 
 ■T^- 
 
 I » 
 
 ■Ik V- 
 
 7°HN WARD, PHEaAj.' 
 
 heardevery Word thev s ,i 1 H ^ T"?^ «""^ '""«t Rave 
 
 . 'the charge of fick^Lss on ft '^'V^Î'Vr''^ ''^^^^ ^^"«'"^bed by 
 -^ notconffdedtoher ^re s i^^ He had 
 
 spent. -l feel «o vom . • •;n f ^.'^^^^^st one shë had ever 
 •companfoi wSh d omI ^ety frou, her almost daily 
 M^I)& ,.^,X-X^^^ 1- ...her and 
 
 as L^ile^ JX t:^Z^f^ ''t? ■ ^'^- ^^^^ ^«ked, 
 leave tlie sul.iect of iS ï^' '^''" ^^^ "^^ deterrain^d to 
 sensé;- sh^I ougln n L Sv'' V'' ^^^ ^« «« ^'^^ 
 or Deborah Woodbouse eTther r^"^^"" '"^^^'^f ^ «^^ °«^^t. 
 anything else of her^' '*^ ^^'^"' ^"^ ^«"^^^'^ expect 
 
 KJtl^h^^Srl^^bXS ^^?^^ ^-f ^^ Miss 
 
 out his lower lin wliitl t K ^ ¥''• ''^^^^ ^' ^"^ thrusting 
 
 " What is WaV?" ask^ mT eyebrows gathered in aTrowa 
 
 • or new school ?" ^'''^'*/^' ^^^^^e, «orting his cards. " Old 
 
 didn't havr,uuch f o ^'f V^^' ^^'^"«^ ^"^ ^hrough. He 
 made me bè eve he wL ' ^-T'"' ^^^ ^^at he did say 
 
 whereLcrtuULrbeT^twe anV""? ^^^V^^^^' 
 unusual." . agreeaWe, and you know that is 
 
 "Well," remarked the'oldpr moX «u • ,. , • • •"' 
 
 and belong to either sctd Hm iold "?S' d '^f? ''^'^'''"* 
 sists merely in the fact fh«V fi^o^/ 7 ^^ ^^^erence <;ou. 
 Wf on the Sabl^ith and ht n. ''^I ''i^^^ ^^^^ «^^^ roast 
 on^Snnday. But douU i. LT '"^"^ H^^" ^^^ ^^^^ beçf 
 The rector's r^uic^ aurvvfAr^^'.H^^'^^^^^^^^^^t^'' 
 the next pause Thastened l.flii h'"^ ^Î ^^^ ^^«' but at 
 
 ,1 couldn't teU hVwhat I thSUf .il- ^he circumstances, 
 opinion. I wpnder" he winf ^ . l^ ^"°'' ^^^^ ^ ^ad my 
 wonaer, he went on, ratthng a bunch of keys in 
 
 lit ._ A • I *' 
 
 
 \ \ 
 
 his pocket, 
 
 politics ? ( 
 
 agine. Of ( 
 
 servative. 
 
 younger gen 
 
 Hke Gifford, 
 
 don. Miss D 
 
 "Ah, doc 
 
 Miss Debora 
 
 "But real] 
 
 for the Unio 
 
 Ward ! on»i ( 
 
 thiog, and tl] 
 
 "AVelI, no> 
 
 inclined totJ 
 
 the contrary. 
 
 more likely t 
 
 not at ail a C( 
 
 " How so ? 
 
 such a thing 
 
 décide ail qu( 
 
 for a uian mu 
 
 sure to'^color 
 
 bring ail his s 
 
 gard to more 
 
 there." 
 
 "■' Xot altog( 
 "\Vard would 
 his conscience 
 make him— a 
 not leave him 
 is literal Chi 
 party, if he th( 
 Bible. But* 
 ficial?' 
 
 LW h y 
 
 K -.' 
 
 
 you see Debon 
 vvaiting !" 
 
 They began 
 door, c6u]d see 
 
.#-\ 
 
 l'V 
 
 \ 
 
 JOHN AVAKD, PREACHER. 
 
 41 
 
 pohtics? Couser^'ativetotliemost ridiculous de-ree. I im- 
 I a^ane Of course, to a certain extent, it is proper "to be con- 
 servative. I am conservative myself ; I don/like to VeetL 
 lyounger genemtion rushiu, intot^nugs becat"se 1^ a- n- 
 hke f'f ord^-calhng himself a Democrat. I begVour Zl 
 don Miss Deborah,ior finding fault with the bo^- ^ ^ 
 
 Mis^él^^^^^ ^•''"'^ -'^-^-'1 P^ï^t-/' -wered 
 
 for?hf uS'U'^l '^^^^^^'^^ "^"^^ ^ boy whose father^ed 
 loi the Union, its absurd. you know, perfectiy absurd But 
 Ward . on. can't imagine tbat he would ever change in any- 
 thina. and that sort, nf nnna^,..,of,-o u. _ . • ,^*^ ^- ^^J 
 
 VVel, now, said Mr. Dernier, "Ishouldsav Ishould bft 
 mchned tothink ft would be just the opposite \iuite^nlit 
 thecantrary From^vhat you say, doctor, it seems to mt 
 more hkely thathe inight bo an anarchist, as it weie Yes 
 notât ail a conservative." : " weie. les, 
 
 "Howso?" asked the rector. . "A man vvho would sav 
 such a thmg as that the Bible, hîs interprétation of ft v^^as ta 
 décide ail questions of duty (a pretty dangerous thin ' that 
 
 l\Xrti'''V"'"'"^^"^'^'^^« «-°' whieh w^uld be 
 sureto coor his mteii.retation ! What?). and who would 
 
 brmg ail his actions down to his literal teachings without ï^ 
 
 gard^tomore modem needs ?. No, Denner; y^ou are wroiîg 
 
 Jl Xot altogether," Mr. Dale demurred in his «eutle voice 
 "Ward would believe in a party onlv so Ion'., as it ^c^eed wkh 
 his conscience, I shoul.l silppok and his cCc S" 
 make bim-auything. And certainly the Bible test woSld 
 s 1 S Chrl^ïf "f wit Iiclemocrac;, doctor. Comm^n^m 
 Lvffbpfïn r-/'. I .«^" f'^ncy he would leave any 
 Bihp' R .£ "^S"'/''"''^'"^' ^^^^°ot snpported by the, 
 «ciaK" ^''''^''^'''h'kno^vhim; my opinion is very super- ' 
 
 Srgr'''"'/"^;' ^ Youarekeeping the ^vhoTSr 
 door, c6uid see the square hall, and the white stair-rail acr?» 
 
 . 
 
 h 
 
 M 
 
 
 1 
 
 ij'i'/j :if*i^*' 
 
 -r'T 
 
 i- 
 
 ^'^ 
 
-^fl^-ÎÇ-'^-V 
 
 42 
 
 JOHîf WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 
 ^he ^rst landing, where wkh tha «.« j 
 
 -^tace, the dock stood ft'wTs iu«\ fiv?T \"^ '^^'' *^«^L ^^ 
 n^ade the ]awyer liervoL L^ n^^^^ ^^ "i»«- ^^is 
 
 <îespair. He had La^W finf^i! ,^ ^'î''^'^ his carda in 
 
 , <îarried exactly the'^am^e {^W l^itSf faÏÏ ^t' ^^-^^^^ 
 silver collar iincylinfr ahn.rVf?' ^/""« ^^^ «iecanter, with a 
 
 plate ofr^tifiVciatiT^^^^^^^^^ ^'^«r^'^' '3»; a 
 
 «spécial délectation Td a siW w^^ ^^'"i ' ^^^ ^^^'^^'^'^ 
 made caiMy for M? 'l 1 Tj Ihn iL""^ ^^'^^^ f'^" «f home- 
 novels. ^ate Mrs Dale Tad c^^ 'l? ^^eaknesses, candyand 
 tastes;feeling tha/it was i^^^^^^^^^^ thèse 
 
 man nearly seventjr years old " Tf 1 1 i £' ^^^«^^tion in a 
 r to do foolish thirt^sTthevmakp v. ""^ ^^nners," she said, 
 it is easier to change a man Wp7;" 'TP'""^""- ^^^ ^^en ! 
 
 The candies sto?d înT^iL^- ^^'^" ^'' manners.' 
 where Lois hadpW '^' mantel-piece, 
 
 the whist-table 4nttar,l^ . T-T' ^^^' ^^^ tray on 
 . ^hing on the rltS^wS^TabS u^h'it' ,^/, P-^H-^- 
 papers.and sporting iournaFs ^n î'n ' l'"5 ^^ ^^^^^ch 
 
 . Résides u«answered^it?ers C Tr"^"''-?/ ^""'« " ^1^^,' 
 ■ high-backed chairs spSwlii 1 r^^^^^^ ''^^""^ ^" *^^ 
 
 then took thei:^ smiK^^^^^^ 71' '^''' ^^P«. ^^^ 
 
 but the gentlemen aVpnn!?!? "^^ ^"'«an^l dehcate little cakes 
 
 cussedth^fastgire v^^^^^ and they ail dis-' 
 
 the*n.y,r ady tohandTheSfw^^^^ î>7 
 
 ^ity of Ashurst that êven after rh^^nV. !, l' ? "^^^ ^ P^^'^^^" 
 . people were stiU expect^d tf be^^en ^1 J^^^^^ ^«""^ 
 
 silence would only hâve been thm,ahV ^^ ^^ heard;.so her 
 noticed it. By and b^hen «hp?! . '''''^'''' ^'^^ ^°^ «^« 
 f pped out to the front poUaiT/Jr ""' «eeded. she 
 . Maïc fôllqwed her, and thCt M?!^^^^ ''''".^ ^^" ^^«P«- 
 She propped her cTin ^pt^^^^^^ ^an^^^' 
 
 thmk of what had been 3 «f a u . "^^' ^"^ began to 
 
 Mrs, Forsy^SCt^^^^^^^ st h^r^thf 'îT ^^^^^^ 
 anxiety this sunimer^^hich \7^ l^^ f^ Z:^^^ 
 
 tlien she trj 
 
 th^t there \ 
 
 " Good-e 
 
 who had co 
 
 ing lahurnu 
 
 ^ " Oh," sh 
 
 know vve W( 
 
 " l'm like 
 
 "He said lu 
 
 the library, ; 
 
 the doorway 
 
 found niysèl 
 
 hâte some s] 
 
 gratuiated, ]\ 
 
 the fascinati 
 
 May I hâve 
 
 Except M] 
 
 stunned by l 
 
 manner and 
 
 knowledge of 
 
 World with 
 
 conscious of s 
 
 of the little o 
 
 Ashurst youn 
 
 rather pleasai 
 
 Mr. J3ale h 
 
 such nervous 
 
 the young ma 
 
 Debdrah bega 
 
 cake from her 
 
 Sarah had coi 
 
 a new sort ôf 
 
 really thought 
 
 with open-moi 
 
 young felloVïr t 
 
 Mr. Forsyth 
 
 it wasforXois 
 
 fell on the resj 
 
 answered by n 
 
 quent glances 
 
 ,^l^ <L\xi 
 
 
if ••Oil »j 
 
 t'i 
 
 JOHN M'ARD, PREaCHER. 
 
 43 
 
 who had corne so quietly alonfç the path, dark wkh S ?r^h 
 un, she said, nith a litt e start of suroriofl " T .li.i „„f 
 
 iVuuu-iiijseithere. Ao cake, thank you,— ves I •'uew T'Il 
 Lave soiue sheny. Oh, the whist is ovér ? Who i. S, S en, 
 
 =ro.r^H:\™ŒcVi--i'dr£^l 
 
 ^orld with a capital W, and they vvere ail more o^' W 
 
 Mr. «aie looked cou'fused, aud haiided hiiu the candv wlth ' 
 such neivous haste, some oC it fell t„ the Hoor wlS ^t 
 theyonns ma» a cliance for hi, fr«j„e„t light iau h E 
 Debomh begau m an agitated way t., pick un the crambl 5 
 ^ke from het lap, and ask her sister if she dM Tt think 
 fr' sol ?L\"r- f*^- ^^-"'OPM taIH"g S 
 
 :^i^«5^tli5 -? - -? - -ztestL^ 
 
 mngarteiw"''""'''"" '" 1"^ -- -'" "hi.h the 
 
 felTI AeSfTh» ** *' "'*'" f^™ »'">e silence whS 
 
 a^'Jr^nrnl^a'^dZXU^^:!^^"^^^^^ ^ lîj^ 
 quent glanées abont at the others, as mnobZT'^yi^; 
 
 
 
 (.1 
 
44 
 
 JOHN WHRD, rilEACHER. 
 
 I 
 
 =r,-SSl^-f"' "«ras 
 
 BeCh Lr hV^houfnn^ffn .T "f «""^P'^''' *"'■ Miss 
 «nce^f t„is ,o„„g „.„, .ho w^tl^^'ta'' 'su^;^^^" 
 ini'î';J«™''^"'f ','"'" """ neoessariij- a short one'for chami- 
 
 the -larkK'Sit ; "" '"""'"'' "* '"^^ ''""'™ -" 
 bacSXL:i"'''4''-''* the r^ctor. as they tumed to go 
 
 " H« if p.e» «danger «f beingôvë^aa " "' 
 
 
 
 ■ /■■■ .. 
 
 Mr. Demie 
 
 had not thoi 
 
 slipped into 
 
 side ôf his wl 
 
 — more with 
 
 Lois. '• He V 
 
 then he will 1 
 
 Mr. Demie: 
 
 fnont door, \a 
 
 had polished 
 
 Mr. Denner's 
 
 ojf mortaï, so 
 
 amall . white .« 
 
 dows of the 
 
 stretched acro: 
 
 scarcely been ( 
 
 five years ago 
 
 and had broug 
 
 death, his oiie 
 
 the Iiouse gr€ 
 
 Denner's offic( 
 
 house, but nei 
 
 of ivy ; ït wai^ 
 
 that the aneier 
 
 battered covere 
 
 The lawyer' 
 
.TT- 
 
 ir of pro- 
 proveÛ of 
 
 DebOTah, 
 loes. *• H(! 
 Mr. Den- 
 ector too 
 Forsythtî, 
 iiitil Lois 
 for Miss 
 )lack kici 
 the pre- 
 re, very 
 
 [• charui- 
 tted him 
 e meant 
 Ik abolit 
 
 em, her 
 secretly 
 red not 
 
 ■f 
 
 ■'^. 
 
 JOHN WARD, PR^JAbR. 
 
 45 
 
 no — ah, if I 
 
 "He talkfêi^eat deal," observed Mr. Dale. 
 "He seenisto feel," Mr. Denner continued, 
 can so exf^ess^t — tiinidity." 
 " Noïie/' responded Mr. Dale. 
 
 " And Ejudge he has seeu a },neat deal of the world," said 
 Mr. Denner; "yet he ap.pears tô be satisfied with Ashurst, 
 and I hâve sometimes thought, Heiiiy, that Asljurst is not, as, 
 it were, gay." As he said tliis, a certain jauntinesss came 
 mto his step, as thougli he did not include himself among 
 those vvho were not "gay." Yet he seems. to be content. 
 I^**.^?®^^" him to come dovvn to the churcb when Loi» Àyas 
 smgui^nd sit a whole hour, apparently meditating. He is 
 nodotibt a very thoughtful youngman." ° ,. 
 " Bah !" answered Mr. Dale, " ho cornes to hear-Lois sing." 
 Mr. Denner gave a little start. " Oh," he said—" ah— I 
 had not thouglit of that." But when he left Mr. Dale, and 
 shpped mto the shadows of tlie Lonibardy poplars on either 
 side of his white gate-posts, Mr. Denner thought much of it, 
 — niore with a sort of envy of I\ïr. Forsythe's future than of 
 Lois. " He will niarry, sonie tinie (perhàps little Ix)is), and 
 then he will hâve a comfortable home." 
 
 Mr. Denner sat down on the steps outside of his big wiiite 
 faont door, which had a brass knocker and knob that Maiy 
 had polished • until the plaint had worn away arotind them. 
 Mr. Denner's house Was of rough brick, laid with great waste 
 0/ mortaç, so that it looked us tliough covered with many 
 amall . white seams. Some ivy grew about the western Win- 
 dows of the library, but on the*north and east Bides it had 
 stretched açross the closed white shutters, for thèse rooms had 
 aîarcely been enteredsince little^Uie Denner's mother died, 
 
 j P^^^ ^^^' ^^^ ^^^^ totr house for her brother-in-law, ' 
 and had brought some briglitness into his life; but since her 
 death, his one servant had had matters in her own hands, and * 
 the house grew more bnely and cheerless each year. Mr. 
 Denner's office was in his garden, and was of brick, Jike his 
 ûouse^ but nearer the road. and without the softe nina tonrh _ 
 
 ■of îvy ;lt was damp and nmdewed, and one felt iAstinctiveïy 
 that the ancient hw books must hâve a film of mould on their 
 battered covers. 
 
 The lawyer's little face had a piiiched, wistful look;. the 
 
 ,♦-•< 
 
 ■ i&i'Ji&t^ti 
 
 :h 
 
 '^.f' 
 
 '^^r "il ut;v X . 4s ^-altiùr-ija^ 
 
 \ 
 
 t 
 
 >■ ' *. 
 
 f : 
 
 A- 
 
40 
 
 JONH wÂrD, PREACnil 
 
 cent, and circl^'anH T=t! li^u** ^'T '™« «"^ '»»» cresJ 
 
 coud -see Ite kmp mI t^"tfrfVS 'r'.^*'<^-M 
 the- hnll toWi» '^j ^ , "^" '<"■ ''"*i. burn ne dimlv on 
 
 hoS hfkLl'i'hr'w "'■ ,'''"'^«'**''ff t» .tl« différent 
 vL-a^ oi ■ ' .y ^^^^ so pleasant and cheerful TK^t^ 
 
 Wo«dhoLeri7pïïoHooked^"M; n"^ ''"" P^"^' *ei 
 
 only onl" Soi iffc r^ ">««'plvea. Just now he thought 
 
 the Zoe m; f. "t , °''' '"'"''^' ">'l ">« «"""fort, and 
 hbw weU Mil!n 1 ' f' P'"^"» voiees the. sfaters.had and 
 
 . • ^ r 
 
 f 
 
ÏJ-- •■•;;'"'■ \ . 
 
 . '■■ ..Al-''.^^-\'flf',; fv:':'S''_''.^^''Wxr,f^- ^fm^': 
 
 
 ' > ^ CHAPTER Vl. 
 
 I • "? ^^;^, "^^ ^"-^'^ ^^iffoï'd Wowîhoiise very long to get settled' 
 lin Lockten. His office and bedroora constituted his house- 
 
 pold, and Miss.Deborah never knew tliat herbaes of larender' 
 were not eyen taken ont of the trunk, and'that tha-hard-' 
 featured Irishwoman who "came in by the day," never saW 
 the paper ()f directions, written, that she niight be able to read 
 it easily in Miss Deborah's sniall, neat hand. 
 
 But Miss Deborah was right in thinking Helen would look 
 after his comfôrt, and Gitibrd soon felt that his ïéal " home '* 
 m Lockhaveii was^at the parsonage, though he had nottime 
 
 I to drop m half ^ often as the master and mistress urgeâ hîm 
 to cio ,, ^ . ' 
 
 He did not tell Helen of -tliat talk wîth Lois, which had 
 
 t brought a soberer look to his face Ihan she had ever^een there. 
 
 iiut she had noticed it, and wondered at it, aïKl she felt m 
 
 reserve, too in speakuig of her cousin ; slie even asked herself 
 
 !« he could hâve cared for Ix)is? But the thought W!ls too 
 
 I * ,r ; ' Ç*^l>ably they Ve quarreled again," she said re- 
 
 ' grettully ; she never had been able to understand her cousin's 
 
 impatience with him. 
 
 PerhapsCHflford thought thât sheliad'an intuitive knowle^e 
 Dt thte ache there was in his heart when she talked of Lois, for ^ 
 ne was comforted in a vague way by the sympatheticloôk 
 which was always on Helen's face when she spoke to any one • 
 who seemed troubled. So he was glad to con^e to the parson- 
 age as often as he could, atid hear the Ashurs« news, and hâve 
 a cup ot tea with the preacher add his wife.' 
 
 John and Helen often -walked home with him, t'hough his 
 rooms were quite at the other end of the town, near the river 
 and the milFs ; and one.night, as they stood on the ghakini? 
 ,Pg ^» and Ipoked dow n a t „thfiJa^^ a»! 
 
 plungmg ag^nst the rotten wpoden pîers, Helen beSn toask 
 him about Mr. Forsythe. ." 
 
 u " -Ç^^ 'S^ ^^^^ **'™'" she said. " You havé seen him since 
 ûe left collège. I only just reiûember him in Ashutst, thQiigh 
 
 
 ■t 
 
 
 
 i#i 
 
 n 
 
 • ./'^ 
 
ïïsf'^'^r-- 
 
 1! 
 
 ï' 
 
 l^/;;._ 
 
 . ^ " JOHN WARI), PREACHER. ' 
 
 mh sWe of t'^ '»el''n'holy face, and three p„ffs of Lr ol^ 
 
 mm aboi"!; '"'Tk'^-'*- " ^' ^"^ ■""■ »»''■ I "»»'* kn°w any! 
 tinng about liiiii. I belreve w. were not very goo<t friends 
 
 ^ftom the letté',^ Ive Imd, I faney h* is a good deal at the 
 
 " Yes," Giftbrd admitted. " But he is one of those Morie 
 who make you feel that though they may hâve "ood mannTrâ 
 their grandfathers did not, don't yoi. know ?" °""">''"- 
 
 fe 1 g^d man P'^""^'" '»'' """ '"*'^'" '''">" "^k"''. " " h^ 
 
 i.a;i?„ï'4x"'" "° "•'""*•" ''"'"' ■^p'"" """ ''» '■»■ 
 
 " Bat what is the^traction in Ashurst, GiH?" Helen said 
 
 eSeZait:-"" """"-^ ' *»"■" - '^^ 
 " Oh, he is rich." t| 
 
 toJe^^^' ^'"^^ ''""'^ ^^^'^"" ^" ««Wl Helen, surprised at his 
 
 anlultT'^^'^Tî''' ^"^l'""^" ^^''"^ ^^" ^^"°^'" ^'^^ voung man 
 one w V or th '\"^ 'T r^"."-^ "^ Mm to hâve an opinion 
 fi?. \^ u *^^, ''^^^^- '^u^«îng from auut Ruth's letters 
 
 be anxious for mj->.*pprbval, or anyboily elseV ' 
 ^ Helen ooked at hiiû with sudden questioning in her eves 
 but they had reached his house. and John began to speak^ to 
 him of bis plans and of Lockhaven. ^ 
 
 -T^y ^^"^^ you will huve ouly too mueh to do," he said. 
 ^ There is a great deal of (^arreling among thé mni-owne^ 
 and^nstant Jsagreements between the hands." T ' 
 
 well, ;Crifford answbred, smiling, and strai^htenina hi» 
 broad shouldtfrH,''ir.therpiH vorkTo do /y-^"^°g ^'^ 
 
 . ùere to do it. But l'm not hopeless for the liï; if i^di^C 
 when you say there'e miu3h to^ be done. The stru^Srfo^ 
 Personal nghts and advantagès /îs Teally, yôu knSwf t^ 
 
 
 ■.,xk,béi!. ,,-■- 
 
 
{{V ^ 
 
 JOHN WARD. PI^ACHSR. 49 
 
 désire for the beat, and a factor in dVilizition A aenemtior, 
 
 Buï°nf?''^H ^'^ ^'^'^ f ^J>' " ^^'''^"^ the présent evil ?" 
 evil 8 oSll^fT'";^ cheerfully "Oh. we!l. the présent 
 cvii 18 one stage of development ; to 1 ve up to the be^t nnA 
 
 tirfuïui^'' 'P^'P^''^""^' ^^"'"" ^^^ ^'^'^ i»»p^^"»y for 
 
 "Morality is not enough," John said genlR-. " Moralîtv 
 ! never 8a^red a soul. Mr. V^oodhouse." ^ ^uoratity 
 
 dte.^l?t!;/«wf ?P^^^K^; ".'^«hn, dear, Gifford doesn't un- 
 
 hea^ht'^'^R!f^"';^",^^^^^^ ^^^^ he was a 
 
 neacnen. But I thmk," he, said, "the thin^r which keem 
 the town back most is liquor." ^ "" P 
 
 banisM 'r^^^^'^ '^''^''' anB^ered,.^eagerly. " If it could be ' 
 
 l.,."f?5VJr'î'®'^^^^^"^y pra&tical remedy," said Gifford 
 Jiis face full of mterest ; but John's fell. ' 
 
 T«, ijT'^^Î^*.^^*' "® compromise with sin will heh) ns 
 
 curio^^ '^""''^^ T" ^° "' ^"'^ «^ «^«^«e«« ?" Gifford asked 
 " I wouldn't hâve it used." / 
 
 |mtL?ktem;t''V^^^^^ " don't you think that> 
 
 'S«nf Wfk^'"''.^"^'^''^^ ^'^^-«^ death sometimes: a 
 
 IhadTo hâve it P "" ""'' " ^ P""" "^"^^ ^^ «"PP«- ^ 
 Lni?!lLT ^^«5^>i«f«lly. " Death^is better than sfh " he 
 
 neien , no ojie knows his weakness until temptation comes '' 
 H^ tone wa^o full of trouble, Gifford. feeling he sadden 
 
 r^^^SfW^rMlSws who confes;toagSsâofcSt 
 IhJ^^^^S^l^JS:^ "^^"^ ^^ ^^^ dioner-t^ble at 
 
 
 « i 
 
 ■,«n 
 
 V 
 
 «9 
 
 m 
 
 '- ''^^B^^ 
 
 IH"' 
 
 t.' ■ -# 
 
 ■ "1- 
 
 l'' 
 
 .j ■ ";'' 
 
:# 
 
'■ ' \ 
 
 .-«' M 
 
 ^=55; 
 
 1 • ï „ f % -f. 
 
 '"^* t -Ç/(^ïii."»-"'m^'î'i-J 
 
 ' 50 
 
 JOHN WHRD, PREACHER. 
 
 ï; 
 
 "I don't thinlc I moticed it," John said «imply. "Yhvt 
 were there." • ' ' 
 
 " There, Helen, that's enough to niake y ou sign the pledge !" 
 said Gifïbrd. 
 
 He watched them walking 4own the street, under.the areh- 
 ing ailantus, their footsteps muffled by thecarpet aï thefallen 
 blossoms ; and theire waa a thoughtf iil look on his face when 
 be went into his office, and, lighting his lamp, sat down to 
 look oyer somepapers. " How is that going to corne out ?" 
 he said to himself. " Neither of those people will amend an 
 opinion, and Ward is not the man to be satisfied if his wife 
 holdg a belief he thinks wrong." But researçhes into the case 
 of McHenry v. Coggswell put things so imprftetical as religi- 
 oûs beliefs out of his mind. } x>! ' 
 
 As for John and Helen, they walked towajrd the parsonage, 
 *and Giflbrd, aftd his future, and his views of high license were 
 forgottert, as well as the sudden pain with which John had 
 heard his wife's careless words about his "awful doctrines." 
 
 " It is very pleasant to see h&n so'often," John said, " but 
 how good it is to bave you ail t© myself !" 
 
 Helen gave him a swift,, giad' look ; then their talk dïifted 
 into thase sweet remembi^iftces which happy husbands and 
 wives knôw by beart i^mM he thought when he érst sawher, 
 how she wondered il he would speak tO her. *'And oh, 
 Helen," he said, " I^collect the dress you wore, — how soft 
 and silky it was, bj#t ît never rustled, or gleanied; it rested 
 my eyes just to Igok at it." ' \ 
 
 A îittle figure was coming towards them down the déserte»! 
 Street, with aiMg clasped in two sraall grintiy hands. 
 
 "PreacherF cried a childish vnice eageiiy, " good-Qvenin', 
 preacher." . „ ^ i 
 
 Jphn stopped and bent down to see who it was, for a tangle 
 of yellow hair almost hid the Iittle face. 
 
 "Why, it is Molly," he said, in his pleasant y*)ice. *'Where 
 hâve you been, my child ? Oh, yes, I see,~for dad's béer?" 
 
 Moll y was^ smiUngathim^pm^^^ "Yp^^ 
 
 preacher," she answered, wagging her heid. "Good-uight, 
 
 preacher." But they had gone only a few steps when there 
 
 was a wail. Turning her head to watch him out of sight, 
 
 .MôUy had tripped, and now ail that was leff^of the béer was 
 
 
^^*'!:\f>l|?'ff^li'''S'1s4îf'Wij 
 
 If' 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHBR.^ 
 
 / 
 
 51 
 
 a yellow scum of froth on the dry ground. The iua^ was un 
 bix.ken but he chîld could find no^omfort in ihlt!' 
 
 John fcnelt beside her, and tried to comfort her "Nev^r 
 
 'ni r/n S°r'^ ««" "J^-J it ™» an accident." 
 
 but MoUy only shook her head. ■■ No» she aaid catchini. 
 
 ff , r"''!?'."'"' "?^ "> 'P«»k, -t won' 35 no goii Hel! 
 la^a'hT-Shc^^^r""^"™"'^'-"-"'-'-''^ --"^O h- w! 
 John looked down sadly at the child for a moment -" T 
 |v.mtake you home. Helen, and then I will grS'with 
 
 •'.' ml" ? k'" *°r?'*d <l"i«%. "let me go vvilh you r- 
 
 said? I-Icannot bear that your eyes should see— what 
 unst be aeen m Tom Davis's hoiise to-night We wHl I ?„ 
 
 we,;t towards tfe paS.„age''*"Héle''nt"t;ri^^ir;v t't 
 mthoutaproteat, and then stood watchin^ S Iwn fb. 
 
 s them wheCtb:' *"* " '5^ ""-^'«'k- of ice flSf 
 ■ umier cnem when the nver opened un had mvo« f»,««, '^ 
 
 icnisnea in m a fight, and the knob was ïone and tbp HnnT 
 
 p«ts were dirty and greasy. The nano^f wTndÔw «re „Th 
 
 H^shntters. and only a dingy g,een paper shade hW th'rl^î!; 
 
 petS.Tr!'-'""^^ "'•"' '""g """"g'- to ^V. "Don-t 
 
 L't^''ând knn^t"j'".^^?'''^ *''*' "^ •>« «ont into the small 
 eiitry, and knocked at the inner door. ■' Don-t be atraid." 
 
 î'-rt 
 
 .4£uîtf^.ï i..'j<Àll^' .£■ .^ . 
 
 ■:\^ 
 
. 52 
 
 rX«-» kp.-: 
 
 • il- 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 > 
 
 
 .-■i^.ll"- 
 
 . "Corne in/' â woman's voice answered, " v 
 
 Mrs. Davis was.sitting by the fireless stove, on which sbe- 
 had placed her small lamp, and she was trying by its feeble 
 light to do some mending. Her face had that indifférence to 
 its "own hopelessness which forbids ail hope for it. She looked 
 up as they entered, 
 
 " Oh, it's the preacher," she said, with a flickering smile 
 abolit her fretfuî lips ; and she rose, brushing some lifeless 
 strands of hair behind her ears, and puUing down her sleevès, 
 which were roUed above her thin elbows. 
 5 *' Molly has had an accident, Mrs. Davis/' John explained, | 
 piitting the.child gently dpwn, and steadying her on her un- 
 certain littleieet, until her eyes were fairly opened. " So I 
 came homeywith her to say liow it happened." j 
 
 " She spïlt the beet," I reckon/' said Mrs. Davis, glancing at 
 the empty jug John had put on the table. " Weli, 't ain't noj 
 great loss. He's asleep, and won't know nothiug about" it. 
 He'll ha\e foi^ot he sent her by mornin'." She jerkëd her 
 heàd towards one side of the room, where her husband wasj 
 lying upon the floor. " Go get the preacher a chair, Moily. 
 Not that one; it's got a leg broke. Oh, you nôedn't speakl 
 low/' she addcd, as John thanked the child softly; "he won't ( 
 hear nothing before to-morrow.'' 
 
 The lumberman lay in the sodden sleep with which hej 
 ended a spree. ' He had rolled up his coat for a pillow, andl 
 • had thrown one arm across his purple, bloated face. Only thel 
 weak, helpless, open mouth could be seen. His muscularl 
 hands were relaxed, and the whole prostrate figure was pa- 
 thetic in ita irtfçonsciousness of will and grotesque unhuraan- 
 ness. Fate had been too strong for Tom Davis. His birthl 
 and ail the circumstanoes of his useless life had brought hiral 
 with resistless certainty to this level, and his progress in thej 
 future could only be an ever-ha!stening plunge downward. 
 
 But the preacher did not consider fate when he turned andl 
 looketi at the drunken man. 'A stern look crept over the face| 
 which had fimiled at Molly but a moment before. 
 
 Tltii» itt Ute ih if d ^m e,^' I t esaid^ ^ 'thftt th\& has happet 
 
 since Tom came and told me he would try to keep sober. Il 
 had hoped the Spirit of God had touched him." 
 ,'' I knoW/' the woman answered, tuming the coat she we 
 
 ilMlât 
 
 1^:; iV>.. .: .ïii.g4--v 
 
 -M 
 
'«I 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEB. "^ ' 
 
 Jending, 
 
 es I can't «ûf «K ^' , f ' ^'^^^^ where ail our money 
 
 church Tt's haXn ^^'^ "^'^i: ^^ ^ Sabbath. and corne 
 "Tf i« \ A *^*^,<^.» me, now, I tell you, Mr Ward" 
 
 °d aH atout hdifcw ^.^"^ hopi"' ' 'd hear one of that 
 IJohn s face suddenlv flushpd " t ri t j- , 
 
 ha little timor intr weaTchi!;"'' "" ""' ""' ^^P^'^"' 
 
 Vif oklii ? , ^^y ^^ Srace bas gone forever ' ' Fnr m^ 
 Jt shaU not always strive with maS ' " ' ^^ 
 
 ^^V'h^^V^^^f't^" l^™" 'hère, though she 
 
 
 / ' 
 
u 
 
 t "■ -'>^'.- 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEiî, 
 
 li^lpîy came sidliiig up to her protèctor, as he stood a iiio 
 ment in the doorway, and, taking his hand in hers, strokéd 
 softly. 
 
 y ou, preacher," she saiçl, " 'cause you 're good. 
 face brightened with a sùdden smile ; the love 
 little childien was a great joy to him, and the touch of thefj 
 small hands gave hira the independent comfort of hope. (U 
 who had iimde the sweetness of childb'ood, would be inercifij 
 owri children. He would give them time, He woulj 
 not withdi-aw the day of gtace ; surely Tom Davis's soûl woiil 
 yet be saved. ïhere was a subtle thought beîow this of hod 
 that for Helèp, too, the day of grâce might be prolonged, bij 
 he did not realize this himself ; he did riot knôw thât 
 feared for ohe moment that she might not sooa accept tlj 
 truth. He was confident, he thought, of her, and yét ino 
 confident of the constraining power of the truth itself. 
 
 He looked dowii at Molly, and pilt his hand gentJy on hj 
 yellow head. " Be a good giri, my little Molly ;" then, wi| 
 a quiet ble^iig upon the dreary home, he turned away. 
 
 But what Mrs. Pavis had said of going to church to hearl 
 serfiaon on hell, and her évident disappoiutment, did not leaj 
 his mind. -, He walked slowly towards the parsonage, his he 
 bent and his hands clapsed behind him, and a questionij 
 anxiety in his face. " I will use every chance to speak of tl 
 certain punishnijent of the wicked when I visit my peoplj 
 he said, "but i^bt in the pulpit. Not where Helen won 
 hear it — yet. In her frame of mind, treating the whole quj 
 tion somewhat lightly, not realizing its awful importance] 
 would be productive of no good, I will try, little by littlej 
 show, her what to believe, and turn lier thougts to truth. 
 the présent that is enough, that is wisest." Aad then i 
 heart went back to" her, and how happy thj^y were. 1 
 stopped a moment, looking up at the stars, and sayîiig, witlj 
 breathless awe in his voice, " My God, how good Thou 
 how happy I um !" , ' '«.. 
 
 
 
 «*f4. 
 
 r. 
 

 ^■1»^,^ 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHBR. 
 
 - 55 ', 
 
 CHAPTER VIL ' 
 
 tetîi^;'^^"-^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ -de in ■ . 
 WnT"""^'!^' Mrs. Paie said, «Arabella Forsythe had^ ' 
 
 r^^en ifVon hLTfT'^u^^^ ^" hâve anew personto 
 F^K)r even it you had to talk about medicines luost of the 
 
 UhSsTthaf^'^ ''' ^'' t'' ^^^« ^^^^ ^«^ y«^^«g People 
 
 N he?^w^ had gone So it was pleasant to hâve a pe°° 
 il fhl . ^^^ ^'^ ^^^^ *«' ^^'i sometjimes to walk ^th 
 
 |therevêsi?'''T'-^''-. ^"^ ^^'^ nothing to say, she i 
 U^dÏZI^ ïnipropnety, and even remaîked sevérely 
 K betri^ Woodhouse that those old-fashionéd ideas of 
 
 UidisT^''' n7r -T^f ^'^' "^^^^^^^'^ ^y^' ^^r« Prirti ana 
 
 lasttoftri^ r^\^''^^^^^^ • 
 
 r *: ^""^ ot triumph in her voiee. ' - • • 
 
 ismaTl « r ^^^ ^°''^' ^°d Giftbrd ; for of coutae in 
 
 rS w ^^^°''^^*''' ^^"^^' ^^^h ^ self-conscioas. 
 ed Sjr p ?T expérience, if aiiy one thought she , 
 ^naHnf ^^^ ^^' ^^'^'"^y ^^ ^undless,-A8hurst. ' 
 
 lîeS.^h''''''' '"'" ^' ^^'^ '^^^ ^'^^ î ^d cérteinly.if^ 
 lletters the young man wrote to her could hâve bëen /edn, 
 p a thought would not. hâve been suggested. They wL 
 
 Jiimself, and the past. at least a^ far a^ a certain night iS 
 te waaconcemed was never mentioned. At first this was 
 Nief to Lois, but by and by came a feeling toc- négative to 
 
 fil 
 
 .'•X 
 
 ' ^K 
 
 
 ■»'< 
 
 ^èT- 
 

 ^~iV ■iff^-e -i 
 
 ,"^.'liFflf>*A \:, 
 
 56 
 
 JOHN WAJiD, PKEACHElt. 
 
 be callecj pîque, or even mortification *at 'having beeii : 
 gotten ; it was ratlier an intangible soreness in her memoJ 
 hun. ,^. ' 
 
 " It is just as Misa" Deborah says," she said to her 
 « yoj^g nien al^vays forget those things. And it is betteri 
 tliey do. Gifford* never thinks of what he said to me 
 I m sure^ 'm glad he does n't-^rbut still !'* And then' 
 absurd suggestion of Miss Debôrah's about Helen would c< 
 
 * mto her mmd ; shé inight banish it, because it was silly] 
 impossible, yet she did not utterly forget it. Howeverl 
 really thought very Httle about it ; the présence of Mrs. 
 sythe and her son gave her plentf of occupation. Therel 
 the round of teas and dinners which Ashurst felt it incumj 
 
 .to give to a new arrivai, and Lois was to hâve two new <'o 
 m conséquence of so much gayety. - ^ 
 
 She spent a good deal of tiine w:ith Mrs. Forsythe, forl 
 
 ♦ elder la^y needed her, she said. It was not altogether the cf 
 panionship which fascinated Lois : the sunny. drawinc»-roôJ 
 the house the Forsythes had hired was fUled with dai 
 things, and light, graceful furnituie, and many harmla 
 silly novels ; there was a gênerai air about it of belonging] 
 life she had never seen which made it a pleasure to come 
 it Theparlors in Ashurst had such heavy, serions chairs 
 tables, she said to herself, and the pictures wére ail so i 
 and ugly, and she was so tired of the cai-pets. 
 
 So she was very glad wheii Mrs. Forsythe Ijegged h'J 
 corne and read aloud, or fix herfiowers, or even stroke hei] 
 white haïr when she had a headache. "Dick may h 
 home, my dear," Mis. Forsythe would say in her depreca 
 voice, "but you won't mind him ?" And soon Lois didl 
 
 . mmd him at ail. i 
 
 At first she was very shy in the présence of this là 
 hearted young fellow, whose indifférence to Ashurst opij 
 was very impressive ; but by and by that wore off, and 1 
 forsythes drawing-room echoed with their young lau«i 
 
 J^j^ti gnn to feel with Di ck the freedom anrf fn^ 
 
 ^ich had onceTeen only for Gifïbrd. " Why could^ 
 hâve beeii Jike this ?" she thought : yet she did not say 
 she and Mr. Forsythe were like " brother and sister," ht 
 was àlways conscious of a possibility in their friendship;! 
 
 iM^ 1 
 
 .e-i-». 
 
 ':mk 
 
J 
 
 JOHN WAHD, PREACHER 
 
 57 
 
 ler raemori 
 
 fang over. the " Keld » and talking ofXi? n""t huS 
 I asatisfied smile on his lips ^' '^^ ^ ^^P"" ^^ ^^« ^and 
 
 Vded close togethT^rarS^S rflr^tint' s'oa'f/ 
 
 * 
 
 =rT-r^ 
 
 i 1^ V^t}'-^ • ., Uu*^ ^f' 
 
 ,nf. 
 
 » -i J >i ^uj. < 
 
 .«eu 
 
 '*'*. 
 
 fi . 
 
 .«», 
 
 '■K 
 
M 
 
 58 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 . vf ■' 
 
 hâve b 
 — was^ 
 
 Lois had corne ont to pick âome flowevs for the miaierJ 
 vases àid bowls which it was her deiight to*keep fille'd] 
 summlr long. She was bareheaded, and the wind J 
 rumplèd the curls around her forehead ; the front of her lij 
 blue diress— she worej^ht blue in a manner which niij 
 isen called daring had it implied the slightest thoii 
 caught up to hold her J^pful of fldwers ; à sheaJ 
 .roses r*ted on her shouldefi, and some featherj' vines'traf 
 almostf to the ground, while in her left hand, their st3 
 talle^ than her owu head, were two stately sunflowçrs, wli 
 weré' to brightén the hall. ' 
 
 Mr. Forsythe caught sight of her as he closed the gate,i 
 hurried down tlje path to help her carry her fragant loâd. 
 had, as usual, a message to deliver. " Mother sends her ij 
 Miss Lois, and says she isn't well enough togo and diive 
 afternoon ; but she'U be glad to go to-morrow if yoii'll 
 her?" ,, . 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed !" Lois crietî, in her impetuous 
 " But l'm sorry she's ill to-day." 
 
 Dick gave the sli^test possible shrug of bis squ 
 shoulders. " Oh, I gue^he's ail light," he said. " It aiu 
 
 me 
 
 some flowers to take hoi 
 
 her. But won't you gi^ 
 her ?» • 
 
 Of* course Lois was Sdelighted to do it, but Dick insii 
 that she should first put tbose she had already. gathe« 
 water, and then get some fresh ones for bis mother. ' 
 see l'm very particular that she sîiould bave the best ;" 
 tljey both laughed. Now mutnal laughtter at small jj 
 brings about a very friendly feeliûg. 
 
 They alj went up to the'side porch, where it was ™ 
 and Loié^and Sally brojigjit out ail the vases and disbes \\ 
 could be made to hold ffowers, ànd put them in a row oiil 
 top step. Then Dick btought a big pitcher of fresh, i 
 water from the spring, and Lois went for the garden sciJ 
 to clip offthe long stems; and at last they were ready 
 t o work» th e sweet^eonfusion of flowei-s <mÏ thesteps bet 
 
 ftsA • 
 
 them, and Max sitting gravely at Lois's elbow as chape.. 
 
 The rector heard their voices and the fréquent shoul 
 
 Iftughter, and began to think he must bestir himself; 
 
 JForsythe should see that Ashurst young woman were 
 
 net think,' she 
 
 w- 
 
< 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 Ô9 
 
 ihe constant oversight of their parents; but lie yawned on6a 
 tr twice, and thouglvt" how comfortable the cool leather 
 .f the lounge was, and had another Httle doze before he weut 
 lut to the porch vvith the openletter in his hand 
 
 Diok had his hat^full of whitt^, and pink, and wino- 
 lolored hollyhocks, which he had stripped froni their steni-^ 
 ;ud was about t.) put in a shallow rUsh, so he did not rise, but 
 iai. • Hello ! in answer to the rector's " Goôd-liiorning," aud 
 imiled bnght y up at him. It was the charm of thiî^ile 
 j'hieh luade the older people in Ashurst forget that he tJfat^d 
 ;hem with very httle révérence, 
 
 " Lois," her father said, " I hâves a letter froai Helen • -do 
 ou want to send any message when I answer it ? Mr 
 orsythe will excuse you if y ou read it."/ ' * 
 
 ," ^^î'/^ T^'f 'IP^'^^ "''P^''^^- " I feer alniost as though 
 knew Mrs. Ward, Miss Lois has talked so mucli about heî " ' 
 .How tunny to hear her calléd ' Mrs. Ward !'" Lois said 
 ;iiking. the letter from her father's hand. ' 
 
 ',' I should think she'd hâte Lockhaven," Dick went on "I 
 m there once for a day or two. It is a poor little place 
 ^ots of pomty among the hands. And it is awful unpleasant 
 fo see that sortof thmg. l've heard fellows say they enioyed 
 kigood dinner more if they saw some poor -beggar going with- 
 .ut. Now, I don't feel that way. I Hon't like to s?e such 
 thmgs ; they distress me, and I dori't forget them " 
 
 Lois, reading Helen's letter, which was full of grief for the 
 helpless trouble she saw in Lockhaven. thought that Mr. 
 porsythe had a very tender heart. Helen was q uestening the 
 meanmg of the 'sufifering about her; already the problem as 
 oW as hte itself confronted lier, and she asked, Why ?" • • 
 Br. Howe had'noticed this tendency in some of her later 
 lletters, and scarcely knew whether to be arinoyed or amused i 
 by it. Now what in the world," he said, as Lois handed 
 back the letter-" what in the. world does the child meati by 
 îaskmff me if I don't think-stay, where is that sentence r* 
 
 , ; iiis glaises, and, wîtft his lôwër lip 
 
 tnrust^out, and his gray eyebrows gathered into a frown 
 glanced up and doWn the pagesj " Ah, yes, hère : ' Do you 
 not think,^she says, 'that the présence in the world, of 
 simenng which cannot produce character, drresponsible suffer- 
 
 l=v- 
 
 i .W-3 
 
 
 1 
 
 V I 
 
 ïi 
 
 i 
 
 > , âftl'aftî XJVa^tjia 
 
 t^%! 
 
!?f" 
 
 so 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACtiÉK. 
 
 
 Ôf roS r T' ' "î?^f '* ^^'^ ^^ ^^"«X^ i»"t»^« Personal fear 
 
 way I What does she know about ' chAracter ' and ' in-espoi 
 sible suftermg ' ? I shall teU her to mend W h"sbÏÏÎ 
 stockings an4 not bother her litUe head wltSi ttaS' 
 çiuestions that are too big for her." . ^ ? 
 
 " Yes, sir," Lois answered, earefully snipping off the thornJ 
 
 waterm-the big punch-bowl; " but people cannot help ius 
 wondenng sometimes" »'=4^jii» 
 
 ;' Now, Lois don't you begin to talk that way," tlïe recto 
 ''''!i}^f>,^^'^^tly ; « one in a family is enough !'' 
 
 ; ^ ; .1^'*^ ^'""^ Forsythe gayly, "what's the good of botherl 
 ing about things you can't understand ?" } 
 
 - " Exactly/; the rector answered. " Be good ! if we occu J 
 ourinmdswithconduct,we won't hâve rSom for snecuTaS^ 
 which never made a soûl better or happier, anyhow^ Yes i? 
 ail nonsense. and I shaU teU Helen so ; there is too mu 
 tendency among young people to talk about thinos thev do J 
 understand and it results in a superficial, sk^deep sort 
 skepticism that I despise ! Beside^.» he added iSing J 
 knocking his glasses off, -"what is th^ good of îiavilà 1 
 
 Z^^Zi::-'''''''''' She ought to ask^.. hertd 
 
 " Well, now, you know, father," Lois said, '"Helen isn't th 
 sort of woman to be content just to step Into the prin îe 
 husband's loot bas made. She'll choose what she thinks J 
 . Solid ground for herself. And she isn't superficial " 
 
 Uh, no, pf courae not," the rector began; relentin^ « 
 
 Sl'^T. '?. ^" ^^^ "^ '^'^ '^^^' I^ut she musfnt 
 ^ toolish I don't waut her to make herself unhappy by gettind 
 
 mg résults in. But I didn't come out to âcold Helen- it inJ 
 
 tTeX fiv! TV'^^' °^^^'' ^' ^ ^«^^ ^^^-g to Sm her t'd 
 tWy-five dollars I meant to give to domestic msisions, pi 
 
 leth eruse]t Jo^^soma^^be^pee^^)eople: Wlmt?" ~ V 
 
 ' Ob, yes, do .f" Lois replied. i > 
 
 " Let me send twenty-five dollars, too !" DicTc cried whi 
 ping out a check-book. * ' "^ 
 
 .Dr. Howe protesteîi, but Mr! Forôytlie insisted thâf it w 
 
 fit,^ 
 
 /gf". 
 
^i» ;j.,5^'t't,-.at^ • I i^vy^j»?."?, f W'^^y/- 
 
 .JO«X AVARD, PRÉACHER. 
 
 61 
 
 ç great pleasm-^. " Doii't you see/^he explained, smiling, " if 
 Mrs. Ward will speud souie moiie.y for me, it will iftake my 
 conscience eàsy for a month ; foi*; to tell you the truth, 
 doctor, I doij.'t thkik about poot peôple any liibre than 1 can 
 help ; it's tôo unpleasaiit. l'ni afraïd l'm very selfish." 
 
 Thiswassaid with such a good-natureii look, Êr. Howe 
 
 could only smile indulgently " Ah, welf y<^'re young, and 
 
 -l'm sure your twenty-five dollars for Helen's poo'r peoplewill 
 
 cover a multitude of sins. I fancy you are not quite so bad 
 
 as you would hâve us believe." 
 
 Lois watched him draw his checjv, and was divided^be- 
 tween admiration and an undefined dissatiefaction with her- 
 self for feeling admiration for what really meant so little. 
 " Thank you very much," the rector said heartily. 
 " Oh, you're welcome. l'm sure," answered the other. 
 Dr. Howe folded the checlf away in a battered leather 
 pocket-book, shiny on the sides and ragged about the corners, 
 and overtiowing with odds and ends of memoranda andnews- 
 papea- clippiiigs; a row of fish-hooks was fastened into the flap, 
 and he stopped to adjust thèse before he went into the housé 
 to answer Helen's létter. 
 
 He snuJjbed her good-naturedly, telling her Tiot to worry 
 about things too gieat for her„ but beneath his cunsciôusuess 
 there Inrked a little discoiiifort, or even irritation.. Duties 
 which seem deaxJ and buried, aiid forgotten, are avenged by 
 the sting of memory: In the rector's days at the theological 
 school, he had hiraself known|hose.doabts which may leadto 
 despair, or to a wjder and unflinching gaze Into the mysteries 
 of light. But Archibald Howe reached neither Onaj^ondition 
 uor the other. He question'ed many things; he even knew 
 the heartache which the very fear of losiog faith gives. But 
 the way was too hard, and the toil and anguish of the soûl too 
 great ; he tumed back into the familiar paths of the religion 
 he knew and loved ; and doubt grewTague, not in assured be- 
 lief, but in the plaio duties of life. After a little while, he 
 ahaost fojgot that he hadrever doubted. -Only nuw and thèï, 
 when some questioning soûl came to him, would he realize 
 thàt he could not help it by his own expérience, only by a 
 formula, — a text-book spirituality ; then he would rémember, 
 and promise himself that the day should côme whf| he would 
 
 ff 
 
 — T 
 
 \J 
 
 'ty 
 
 <9% .. -v^5 
 
■■■ffs-r 
 
 # 
 
 
 62 
 
 JOHN WAUD, PKEACHER. 
 
 face uncertamtjr and know wJmt he believed Rnf ,> « 
 
 Snq;^,îf|?tw!S o^-, ^ '"'^ «"«"«Slooted. and hiseasy, 
 Wnting his careless rebuke to Helen brourtjit this'n»«t „„ 
 
 • could torget once more. . envçiope, and 
 
 • ww'i? ^orsythe had prolonged his call by'bein- verv carefuL 
 what flowers were picked for his mnfhp/ T^au^ carenip 
 
 , older man s side. * s^^i 
 
 T^as theonly person in Ashurst who was iwt blincld K 
 
 , m .the third or f ourth îreneratiou penection 
 
 • There was nothtng in -hi s VDJçe to encon map Djçj. ta tnlV 
 
 wmue nair, and hid the expression of his face. 
 
-!t JOHXrWAUDj PllEACHEP. 
 
 • ' ' ' 
 
 So Dick rattleil oii^ in liis light, hnppy voice, talkinjy^ oè 
 everything or iiothing, as lus hearer might happeu to consider 
 it, until suddenlv Mr. iJale's attention was caught : Dick be- 
 gaù to speak al' Joliti Ward. " 1 thought l'd seen him,'' he 
 wassaying. -"ïlie nanie wàs fainiliar, and tliçn when Mias 
 I^is described his looks, -and told me where he studied for the 
 ministry, I felt sure of it.' If it is the same man, he inust be 
 a queer fellow." 
 
 " Why ?" ask.ed Mr. Dalé. He çiid uqt know John Ward 
 
 ».rv whII nnH \\aA nrt ic>f>vf:nii1at.'di2^U»r. «U-x..* u; 
 
 about him one way 
 
 T. Baie, and he had 
 
 the same irapefsonal 
 
 Id hâve éxamined ji 
 
 ho is — and I guess there 
 
 . very well, and had no paiticulï 
 
 or the other ; but people intei 
 
 ineaut sonie time to stii^dy tHif 
 
 and kindly curiosity with whj 
 
 new bug in his collection. 
 
 " BecHUi^e, if he's the man rtll 
 
 is no doubt about it— thin, dark,- and abstracted-looking^ 
 
 named Ward, and studying at the Westecn'Theological Sem- 
 
 inaçy that year,— I saw him do « thing--well, I never knew 
 
 any other man who^vould hâve done^îir!" " 
 
 "Wtt^t was it, sir-?" said Mr. t)ale,^urniug his mild''blue 
 
 eyeà, updh the young man, and regarding him witli an unusual 
 
 amount o|interest.:f 1- .« •' ;,. 
 
 I^ick làaghed. J*;lj|hy>;|iê attswerèd, "I s^ thatman,— 
 
 there. was a lot of •ùà/^lîows standing on the steps of one of 
 the hotds.; it was th» buâiest ^reet and- the busie^t timé of 
 the day, atd there was a woman coming along, dfunk as a - 
 lord. Jpvë ! .you onght to hâve seen her wolk I She couldn't 
 Walk,— tbat was about the truth of it ^nd she HJmI misér- 
 able yelling brat in her arms. It seeuied as thougfshe'djall 
 half a dozen times. , Well, while we ^were standing theré, I 
 saw that man "coming down the street. I didn't know him 
 then, — somebody toldiiie his name, aftérwai-ds. I give you 
 my Word, sir, when he saw that woman, he stood still j^q 
 minute, as though he was thunderstruck by the sight of ^îer, 
 — not hesitatiug, you know,4)ut just amâzed to see a woman 
 looking like that,— and then he went right up to her, and t^ok 
 "that dirfey, çioreeeliiug ehikl out ûf her armsyiind them[, i'nT" 
 blessed if he didn't give her his arm and walk down the 
 Street with her !" 
 
 Mr. Dale felt the shock of it. " Ah ]" he said, with a quick 
 indrawn breath. 
 
 f 
 
 '«^o 
 
 <*>, 
 
 f 
 
 '■^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 s^^-: i. . .,% . i. . fe. J'.i,' »V-7_ . 
 
 n^%. 
 
64 
 
 , \l 
 
 40HN WABD, PREÂCHER. 
 
 ■/^U 
 
 "''he'^rairt^:^ te\ling a good storyl 
 
 falJ, and hurt heiSfUndT; ^^^P^S"^ ^^ ^o"ght she 'd^ 
 looked at him, S I Ci h!r 1; ^^H^^ everybody 
 
 course you W ^t'l^o::^:?^ ^ Vhf ^^^^ «^ 
 
 Mr. Dale for an answei hTltî ''^S"^^«*°tb^ and looked at 
 
 him. a„d 'he aat -Bl^ ' «Vr.r Ld ,!'^;,f '"-■ ' ^'^ 
 enough to oall a policeiuau ?' " "'" '"?" '^""^ 
 
 woinan wh, was %i„„ ^^^ , '^^, ™«'''ed street with the 
 had lighted his sfen e kiente ,f^'b '"'^'IV'"". ""^ he 
 
 CHAPTEE VIU. 
 
 had held an exhifaratioS liK ''' '"'"^'"'"S'^ented air 
 
 a thin ,„i.st acn J lîe Mli, t,, ';■■ 'f "',"" "«''t had (olded 
 
 upper ,ky was Hlle, w th the ' ol' w V fT ''''*"*^^ »' ">e 
 stara. ""^ '>™" » l'itL' light of innumerable 
 
 i«xt4"i;\h^:rdKt titt y:r ''^ ^""'^■-'' p- 
 
 of that soft coal.whic neonlfi-J r Ar I' »«» 
 
 châfm of anJÎZ«'„~<ir_T" """png qoaiiliee, BecausA nf ;>; 
 
 ^9-*-(.' 
 
 bling blactaess «ifClg^nXè"hLr' fi?" > •"*-• 
 oak-.nII ,^pped on15a,^e"°i„ ïl^e'' J^tda '*"''"" "' <"" 
 
 
 It had-1 
 
 prayer-mee 
 
 with Helei 
 
 In the a 
 
 dren to fine 
 
 tians, whic 
 
 fiwept Octc 
 
 walk woul( 
 
 know no wi 
 
 the childre 
 
 places, and 
 
 Helen h{ 
 
 tramped ov( 
 
 she could j 
 
 John's deep 
 
 After tli€ 
 they crpwde 
 always the c 
 But, tboVi«h 
 ber it was ci 
 gnomes and 
 clouds, with 
 Vvas gênerai] 
 tmctive Joh 
 that his stori 
 in another i 
 loved nothin 
 he loved thei 
 What did tl 
 surely gin, f» 
 such homes a 
 the sure eteri 
 them, and 1er 
 he tried to wi 
 
 ousn es s. 
 
 But it was 
 they themselv 
 the children, 
 «ould b*ut be \ 
 
 
 ^fSs: 
 

 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. qq 
 
 Hi8 loving kmdness, loving kindness, 
 Hi8 loTing kindness, oh, how free !" 
 
 ber it vvas onlv a storv «nJ w f^ n . fhey must remeni- 
 
 gnomes and «riJ^oZrn'd^tXaZaï^Lrr^^'-"' 
 clouds, with stars for lampa, was^never lessened "':?i"8T^'« 
 Was generalv a moral h^if ;„ k;„ i , ™ ' ""^ 'hete 
 tmctive John ofter?onceaiM t ^T ''^'''^ "> ""''^« i' «*- 
 that his stories c^dVgoofht iSd^BuTr ''f'^ '"^ 
 
 the sure eternity w ich foSows sinTï °^i'"" '"'*«^ f'"""^- 
 them, and lent a sCressed nass o^' û Ir f"^ "**'*'™ "^^ 
 he tried to Win their love ThK ^A^? '?"'"' "'"' «l'^h 
 OMness. '" ""iLi''^l''jL'ie 'night l. }ad t li m to righte- ■ 
 
 the children and m„^« H *'''\«'»<='>-a"™ted and eharmed 
 
 ■* 
 
 « Sii 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 •U> 
 
 ;s<.uâ'& 
 
 .,'*■; 
 
 ( 
 
 I 
 
' ''W*(5î^ï^,^ 
 
 th 
 
 66 
 
 JOÔN WAHD, PREACHER. 
 
 
 '' They had left liim^eluctantly at the • parsôna^re aate clam 
 Then Jolin had a quiet half hour for further thôu^ht^uZ hi 
 betore, Helen had laughed at the amount of studv «iven to 
 
 take thèse thmp too much to heart. It is not wise, d^ar? 
 thin". r «î '/""u ,^^^^ .^id gently, «Thèse are the only 
 otelie Ca'n w'ST ^' ""^/ ^^' to prépare for that 
 
 upon the use we «lake of time ? That thought is a continuel 
 spur to make me eager for my duty to my peSple." 
 
 . V^^' I ^°o^v it,'"Helen responded, laying her head uDon 
 
 his Bhoulder ; but doo't work too hard " ^ ° '''' "^^"^ "P^^ 
 
 He put his anus about her, and the impulse M'hich had been 
 
 foî-goLn. ""''"'"' ^'^''' "^ 'P^^^ '' ^4'' ^^^ «^" -'l^as 
 
 Thèse pfayer-meetings were trials to Helen Ward She 
 
 missèd the stately Liturgy of her own church. " I don't Hke 
 
 nfornL™'" ?""" '^T ^^' ^^^^^^^^ «« °^^^h misceîlaLous 
 information," she said. half laughing, yet quite in earnest 
 But she a^ways went, for at lea^t there wJthe pleasu^ of 
 walknjg home with John. Besides, practice Ld made it 
 possible for her to hear wichout-heedii|, and in that wav she 
 escaped a great d«al of annoyance. ^ '^ 
 
 M.Z T'^'f ^ednesday evening, however, she had not been 
 able «0 close her ears to ail that was^aid. She had «rown 
 
 ï^ferrt'h!f /'f '^* "^""' thenarrow whitewashed ^o^m 
 where the lecture was giveu, aod longed for the révérence S 
 the starht sileuce outside révérence oi 
 
 ^}!ii ^ ^^È^^^mH a s hor tp rpyer. simple and 
 
 di r ecc 
 
 ,7:0. ^ "^v^^t/iii{j uy u, nnoTL prayer, simple and 
 
 -;-.- as a chndTréquest Ib Hs fathe^ aiil a^ a hvmn he 
 
 f::.*^ ilr z^;:^' ^^^'^^ ^«^ ^ad chôsen. tiI t&t 
 
 jng 
 
 was open, and to some- of the things said, Helen 
 
 
 ■ *Nt' i < ''.ri.' 
 
 listened w 
 rejoicin^ ii 
 foot-steps 
 she meant 
 by their O) 
 The rooi 
 ôut of the 
 clock ticke 
 two fell thi 
 expressed 
 
 John sat 
 
 knee, and 
 
 he held one 
 
 to see : her 
 
 lids which 
 
 •of question] 
 
 hood. Her 
 
 and rippled 
 
 John had 
 
 shield his e; 
 
 -of her wedd 
 
 " What a 
 
 "Itislar 
 
 it against 1 
 
 nervousthrj 
 
 the same siz 
 
 at that ink-f 
 
 like you to 1 
 
 " You rest 
 
 a rest even t 
 
 went on, aft( 
 
 mean auy pi 
 
 it if I could 
 
 She lifted 
 
 turning it ab 
 
 expression ol 
 «ould endure 
 yoice, as thou 
 inspire me te 
 mean if I ha( 
 
I^^ïï'l'- 
 
 ~r -'* f "i 
 
 
 ^* 
 
 
 JOHN WAUD, l'J{EACHElJ. 
 
 .67 
 
 by S" ™ fiS^sr" *' ""' 'p"*"^ "f'' ""*" *^ -- 
 
 Out of the corners, and chased tlie gleams of flreli<.ht thp Si 
 
 hds which drooped a little at the oute? corneiraiWn. a look 
 of questionmg sincerity, vvhieh does uot often oS chiM 
 
 and ripplet a little over a smooth^hite forehead ' 
 
 John had hegun to stroke herhand softly, holding il ud fn 
 
 t agams his own gaunt thm hanci which ah.a^ had a 
 uervousthnll in the pale fincrers " ^o„ o« ^ J , * 
 the same size. but «10^ c ?tainly n Jcl X'ter "^ W ^ï 
 at that ink-stain; that means ^ou^ wrTte 2mueh f do'^t 
 likeyoutobesotiredintheevening,John" ^ 
 
 You rest me," he said, looking^ up into ha» face « Tf î« 
 a rest even to sit hère beside you. Do you ki^w Fpl«n "h 
 wenton,after a moment's pause, ''it Iwerrin'anv n^^^ 
 meananyphysical extremit?, I would hâve Weng^ t^bear 
 
 She lifted her liaud. and looked at it mh amused curiositv 
 tu nmgit about "toget the best li.uht up on it" ^ 
 
 \7 
 
 «s 
 
 i'fi 
 
 •"'il ■* ' 'mi 
 
 (' 
 
 ; ■ ,p~ '"^ 'j^^u xij^iiv upun 11,. 
 
 expression'ôf'fhnf' ^t' «aid, smiling. " It is the visible 
 expression of the strength you are to nie. With vour hein T 
 
 vol "'1r r^, ?r • ^ ^«*^^<' ^e went on,r a lov^er • 
 yoice, as though thinking aloud, «'if this strength o yours coule 
 inspire me to bear the worst pain thore couîd b^ for ^e 1^ 
 Jiean if I had to make you suffer in any way ?" ' 
 
 
 i .1' 
 
 >«? 
 
 ۔ t 
 
 
 M 
 
 
 *. ^4 
 
JOHN WARP, PREÂCHERi ' 
 
 :ed dovvn at hyù, surprised, not q'tiite under- 
 
 >«pp6se," he said,— •' c/ course one can suppose .auythinff, 
 --that for Vour best good/f had to make you sufter : could î,. 
 do you thmk ? / . 
 
 " I hope 4" she answered gravely ; « I hope 1. should giVe 
 you strength 'to do it." , v 
 
 They fell agaiii into theil- contented sUence, watching the 
 hrelight, and thinkiug tend^ly each of the other. But at 
 last Helen poused lierself from her rêverie with a long, pleasanfr 
 sight of entire peace and corn fort. » 
 
 "John, do you know, I hâve reached a conclusion ? Fm 
 not going to prayer-meeting any^ more." 
 his voice'^r'"^' . " ^^^•^' H^^^^^ •'" he said. a thrill of^ain in 
 ^ But Helén was not atall Uubled. "No, dear. Feeling 
 
 fnr V f 5^?"*^ ^t'^^^° ^h^»g«' i^^is worse than uselesl , 
 
 for me to go and hear Elder Dean or old Mr. Smith ; ther 
 
 TnZ T^^ ""ï ^^^,?"'^ ™^' ^"^ I ^^o»'t know which il 
 worse. Uave heard Mr. Smith thank the Lord that we are 
 not amoEfe the pale and sheeted nations of the dead, ever 
 smee I came to Lockhaven. And Elder Dean's pictures of 
 the eternaJ torments of the damned, ' soûls vvreathing in 
 sulphurous fiâmes '(those were his words to-night, John 
 and then praismg God for his justice (his justice!) right 
 Nn^h !\ fr ^'^""^^. ''"^^ ^^' ^^^^- I do not believe in hell,. 
 S^ff T i" ; ^''' '"^ '^ '' ^^"'^d ^^ g« ^"d li«ten to such things. 
 But I won t imss any walk with you," ^e added, " for I wtu 
 
 hre togetS'"^^ 
 
 m«n'îpr V? f'^''^,^^^ t,alked, and stood leaning againstthe 
 mante] his face hidden by his hand. Her lightly spoken 
 words had come with such a shock, the blood leap?d back to Ms 
 heart, and for a moment he could not speak. He had never 
 
 1S!^'l^"n^^hi^ " '" t^egtecrêncour.p™ngnor^ 
 ^^At last. he said very geûtly, "But, dearest, I believe ia 
 "I know it," she answered, no longer carelessly. but still 
 
 ■XQurse ofi 
 
 ,.W..v 
 
 
 .'.+. «U . 
 

 fA^'^ V-V^Hi-St, 
 
 JOHN AYARD, PREaCHER. 
 
 69» 
 
 smilrng, "bût never miiid. I mea^it does not make any 
 différence terne what you believe. I wouldn't careifyau 
 were a^ MahommMan, John, if it helped you to be good and 
 liappy. I tliink that dift'erent people hâve différent religions 
 necessities. One man is born a Eoman Catholic, for instaûce, 
 though his ^ather and mother may be the stefnest Pro- 
 •testants. He-cannot help it ; it is his nature ! And you "^ 
 she looked up at him with infinité tenderness iû her brown 
 ^y^^y^"yo\X' .were born a Presbyterian, dear; you can't 
 "helpii Perhapsyou need the sternness and the h6rrorof 
 sotne of the doctrines as a balance for your gentleness. I 
 never knew any one as gentle as yoù, John." 
 
 He came and kuelt down^eside her, holding her face bet- 
 weeu his haqds, and looking into her clear eyes. " Helen," he 
 said, "I hâve wanted to speak to you of this ; 1 hâve wanted 
 to show you the trutli. You wiîl not say you cannot believe 
 in hell (in justice, Helen) when I prove " — 
 
 '' Don't prove," she interrupted him, putting her hajid softly 
 across his lips, "clon't let us argue. Oh, a theological argu- 
 ment seems to me sacrilège, and dogma can never be°an 
 antidote for doubt, John. I must believe, what my own soûl 
 asserts, ôr I ^m untrue to myself. I must begin with that 
 truth, even if it keeps me on the outskirts of t^hegreat Truth. 
 Don't you think so dear? And I do not believe in hell. Now 
 Jbhat is final, John," 
 
 She smiled.brightly into his troubled face, and, set... 
 anxiety, hastened to saVe ||jfi: f urther pain inthefutura 
 not let us ever discusà thèse things. After ail, doctrine .« ^ 
 so little importai^ce, and argum^t never can resuit in con- 
 viction to either oi us, for belief is|fe«aatter of tempe Anent„ 
 and I do so dislike it. It reg^y disBesses me, Jobo^ 
 
 " But, dearest," he said, " to deliberately tiirn Way from 
 the search for truth is spiritual suicide." - ' . 
 
 "Oh, you misunderstand me," she replied quickly.' «Of 
 iursa-ono'-a^ioul aw»y# seek« for tru^ T h, but to argue, "fcadis^ 
 cuss détails, which after ail are of no possible importa^ce, no 
 lïrore part of the eternal veritieô than a man's — buttons are 
 of his chai-acter! N^v, remember,*' with smiling severity, 
 " never again !" She laid her head down on hisshoulder.."We 
 are 80 happy, John, so happy ; why shQuld we disturb the 
 
 ■"'■'fe' 
 
 ♦ :4 
 
 ^^ ■^- 
 
 .."riT 
 
 / 
 
 /. » 
 
 •& »- 
 
 A 
 
 < î' 
 
 B'SWV.' '■ 
 
 ■m 
 
 
70 
 
 'H, 
 
 
 
 •^^"N iWMT), PliEACHER. 
 
 péaceoflîfe? NevM- minllwhat we tliink ou 
 tve hâve êach Qthei^ear M - <â M 
 
 îthisduty! Yet .hisj^on^Joience mS^shi 
 jvould only ,l^t , n^ tell you i^ m^ ^ 
 1«tMB^iw«valÇsaill, aud Heleirs voi^ ^^la~^ 
 PSA-iS^Br^i?^' ^^^^^ '^^ ^""^ \er .^Ir , %c'l|{Pi0r, : 
 kt^^U^WlÊÊÊ^&ÊliM^^'^^ ^^ ^"ft into remiiii- 
 
 -^^iK^n^MP^""'^^^^ Aeither of tfeê^iâ gave a 
 ^i^Lil '^t?^îr^^^ *'«vr, until they were toused 
 râf ^/'^^ M^ M ^^^^ h^-rcï tke liée ^ pu^ed 
 l^iy;«^pen, shutUng agam with a bang.^ M 
 
 •<*'^^fe^ ^f '^^ ^""^^"^^« P«k^ ^i^^h 4ch t?ie 
 L .-^omittg gifitet is welcomed.- - < ■ T^ • 
 
 J% it^an't be Oift;" Helen answeied. listening; " he ' 
 
 gki^àjwip whistles." 
 ^^jBiÉli' it was GiJ 
 
 \ 
 
 ifford. Ttiç (luick-leaping Hame lifflited bis 
 
 W* "^î^ ^T''^' ànd tfeèn 3aw tf^at. 4nstead of its usuilT 
 traliquil good^îiature; them w^s & vvomed look 
 - •■ l'm afraid l'm disturbing yôu." he- s^id, as'they botb rose' 
 î ^ -to-welcome him. an^ there was th. little confusion of îighdn. 
 ^ f„! ^P ^"'^ ^^^™g ^^P à Çh-ir. " Hâve. H^t I iuterrupS 
 
 iii'lJ®'''''^^'''':^^P"®^-""^Pl3^''but^ is well you did: T 
 
 f'%'Z' 7uf^ "^ ^' ^^-"^Sht, and I had' forgotten 
 ^^.^Ymi and Helen WiU^exciise me^ if I leave you a little 
 
 , ta BoOi the others proteated : .Giffonf that .iïé W^i 
 Mr. Ward from bisown fireside, ?intf Heled that '' 
 late for work. : v . 
 
 wû ^ Y^^ see yo^iMu? her^dST' tupi 
 • and then heclosed «iPl^or, and they hearct 
 
 The i^rruption had brought hiin Wck to 
 
 -■ \ 
 
 ► ton 
 
 ^^ iftprd J 
 "g in 'the 
 
 He 
 
 &.s.i,4t*^ 
 

 'ly T 
 
 JOHN WARP, PREACHEK. 
 
 7î 
 
 .-■v',^'.''' 
 
 ■ë 
 
 \. 
 
 left the joy whiéh befogged his conscience, and felt agàin 
 that chill anfil sliock \v^i«liÉIPelen's words had Igiven hini,, 
 andthat siidden pangQf remorse for a neglected duty; he= 
 wanted to be alorie, and to faciB his own thoughts; His writing, 
 <3id not detWn.him long, and afterwards he j)aced ihe chilly 
 room, struggliiig to see.his duty through his love. But in that 
 half hour up-stairs he reached no new conclusion. Helen's 
 anfeipathy to doctrine wsts so màrked, it was, as shé said,, 
 useless to begin discussion ; and it would be worse than use- 
 less ter^rge her ta corne t6 prayer-meeting, jf she did not 
 want to ; it wpuld only màke her antâgonistic to "the truth. 
 She was not ready for thé strong méat of the Word, which. 
 was certainl|* what hiaelders fed to^hùngry sq,u1s ât praiyer* 
 meetings. John did not know that there was any rèluctancB 
 in his own mind to disturb their hariiXony and peàce bj" 
 argumentyiie sîmply failedto reco<,«nize hisQwn motiveâ; the 
 reasons he gaye himsëlf weie ail seOipn5d[ary. ^" 
 
 " I ought not to hâve corne so lat^,". Gifford said, "and it 
 is a shanie to disturb" Mr. Ward,^^ I did \yant to see you 
 80 much, Helen !" 
 
 Helen's thoughts wçre foliowing her husband, and it wàs 
 an effort to bring them back to Gifford and his interests, but 
 sheturned Ijer tranquil face to bim with a gracions gentle- 
 ness whioh ne ver left her. " He will corne back again," she 
 said, " and h^,Avi||"be gla^ to hâve this writing offhi» mind 
 to-night. I was ohly afraid he might take cold ; you know he 
 hâs a stubborn little Cough, . Why did you want to see me, 
 Giiï?" . ^ ' 
 
 She took sonie kniting fropi her work-table, and, shaking 
 eut its lieecy softness, began tô work^ the big wooden needles 
 making. à velvety so.ui^ as tÈey rubbed together. Gifford was 
 ppposite^p^^l^Jiujia^CTfr^^t moodily into his pockets^ Ms 
 feetstr^y^ed straight outiilcôfl hi^ihead sunk on hia breàsjb.. 
 ButJ[é did not look ,aS Hhougn he wère rèsting, an intent., 
 anxMpty seemedïo^pervade his b^ frame, and .Helea oould 
 
 -f 
 
 -ppt fail^ttrTtbserve it. She glgm;e(rat1ïiTHj^.,a3ii;;^^ 
 into the fire, bût hl'did not notioie her,. ' . ' 
 
 .. " Something troubles you; Gifford." . ^ ", , ' - :' 
 * ,fte started. " Yes," he sai^*He cha^edjiis position, leas- 
 ing his elbois on his knees, and^ôpping^hîs chin on bis 
 
 
 *>«^, 
 
 , ' 
 
 
 \ ■ • • ■ 
 
 m. 
 
 
 ;'^fl(.-, 
 
 *'^i 
 
72 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER, 
 
 «il 
 
 : 
 
 .j4l\Xt1""''l^«;:^'''^«'^- " V-. I came to.«peak to 
 
 " and'Tt r toèl [™'''*«nt Eutl, to-day." he said at last. 
 
 anu it n^Jtiptliered me, I doji't know how to tpll vn,, 
 
 exactiy ;you wjjl think ifs none of „.y husiul.'; ^""' 
 
 putonf; down her work. and drawinL quick breatll ' 
 
 ^ Gifford'8 mannel-, as h^ spoke, tolcl Helen what she had 
 
 tnat. im iiot jealous ; for Heaven's sake, don't think T am 
 
 S I-whT r.'t^t'r-'' '"»' -an was'trthy"' 
 hZv T„»^;/t ■ ! 'kV"'''' """^ "> '•^•i°i'=« that 3he was 
 bS me Sèle^;^ '^ "'^ ''''PP-^' "^"'^ "^ -»' ' ^ hope^ou 
 
 but I don t qmte uBderstand how you feel aboiit M? Fnr 
 sythe ; every pnespey^sso highiy of Mm, Cnfurt dSv 
 
 h.-fî'^"?' '"*' • ■' "ï**'' ''"'^ ■'"^8*'» to watk about the Voom 
 teck f;f: SIS t/T'-^-?'* hi3Coat.and bis hea^ th^Tn 
 sSd "in tï? w5 ""Patwnce, " That's just it," he 
 
 sadd, n tins vjiry letter aunt Euth is enthnsiastie and T 
 
 T fTn ^1 T -^î ' ," P"PPy.-thafs the amount of it And " 
 ■ ilWj-^J"''/''™»''*-!''' "o-neandask you if yo«^£ 
 
 tMS;:--fe':U'?yZtrknt^s^^^^^^^^ 
 
 ^PWm ^<^B couldn) care for liipi.'^ ^°'' ^^- 
 
 \ 
 
 V. 
 
 
 ftâlk- 
 

 JOHN VVARD, PREACHEK. 7$ 
 
 Gifford sat down, and took her bail of wool, beginningjierv- 
 pusly to unwind it, and then wind it up «gain. 
 
 " Perhaps she wouldn't see it," he said tentatively. 
 
 " Ah, you don't trust her !" Helen çried brightly, " or you 
 would not say that. (Don't tie my worsted into knots !> 
 When you write to Lois, why don't you frankly say what you 
 think of him ?" , ' "^ ^ 
 
 " Oh, I could not," he responded quickly. " Don't you see,. 
 Helen, l'm a young fellow myself, and^and you know Lois 
 did not care foV me when I— told her. And if I said any> 
 thing now, it would only naean that I was jealou's, that I 
 wanted her myself . , Whereas, I give you my word," striking 
 his fist sharply oii his knee, " if he was fit for her, l'd rejoice ; 
 yes, I— I love her so much that if I saw her happy with any 
 other man (who was worthy of her !) l'd be glad !" 
 
 Helen looked doubtful, but did not discuss that ; she raii 
 her hand along her needle, and gave her elastie work a pull 
 " ïell me more about him," she said. 
 
 But Gifford 'had not much to tell ; it Svas only his vague 
 distrust of the man, which it waS/difïicult to put'inÇq words; 
 " A good out-and-out sinner on^an stand," he ended ; " but 
 ail I saw of this Forsythe at the club and about town only 
 made me set hhn down as a small man, a— a puppy, as I said. 
 And 1 thought l'd talk to you about it, because, when you 
 , Write to Lois, you might just liint, you know." 
 
 But Helen shook her head. « No, Gifford, that never does 
 any good at ail. And I do not believe it is needed. The 
 only thing. to do now is to trust Lcis. I hâve no anxietv 
 about her ; if he is what you say, her ov\ n idéal will protee* 
 .her. Ah, Gifî, l'm disappointed in you'. 1 shouldn't ha^^e 
 thought you could doubt Lois." ; 
 
 " 1 don*^!)**" he cried, " only 1 am so afraid !" 
 ".But you shouldn't be afraid," Helen said, smiling; «a girl 
 Uke^ Lois couldn't Jove a man who was not good and noble. 
 "" Giftbsd " she yeutm-ed, after a moment's pause,— 
 
 V-# 
 
 " perhaps it 
 
 ■# 
 
 " No, HQ, 
 
 Helen mi 
 
 aE fight 
 nswered. 
 
 for^you^ somet ime." 
 
 ï don't dai*e to think of it." 
 ., bave given him more courage, but John came 
 in, and Gifford realized that it was very late. " Helen has 
 scolded lue, Mr. Ward," he said; " and it has done me good '• 
 
 
 '«■•■; 
 
 ■M 
 
 • i: 
 
 \'^ 
 
 ';i'i 
 
74 
 
 ■ .^-f.,;^ 
 
 
 JOHN WÀED, PREACHER. 
 
 '■%"■ 
 
 ^^r^^' 
 
 ..v ' 
 
 f-. 
 
 f '^' Cm gîte scold ?" ho said, 
 
 John tuined and It 
 
 And when GifforcMmraillBK- 'o«'»,« ^. i . ' 
 
 he saw them «HlllSP'^^' ^. weht down the streef 
 HelenleânLhPfm^^^ Joorway.\the sUrlight; 
 
 Giffbrd sighed as hè walked o#iWS|fee v4v ïf*t.nv " 
 ^e though^ « Well that sort of ^^n^„l; ^^KV 
 
 linSl^^ m"^'^"/'^''' ^'^' ^«^si»'s i"stinct mi-ht perhaDs 
 
 Sf^n n^tP*"-""^ ^' anxietiesinto her eai^ Lois was h^ten 
 t?m^' f ' P^^^r^ of the gajeties of socia Hfe -The " tuv 
 times. _as he .expressed it, which she l^ad never known ^ ^ 
 
 • Sf -^^ a scathing review of an action o{ his political tW 
 
 '41 
 
 toIive.lf'héidiaïïT^ 
 
 . ' « , , - _ - 
 
 dpLiti--JIo wou l dn % 
 
 -#is raised the hand-screen she hplrt d;^ n^„*^ 7-k- i 
 
 «K 
 
 \ 
 
 ■^ ^: 
 
\sm 
 
 'm 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 % 
 
 ■ Il ■ , ■- 
 
 " Dr. Howe folded bis nevvspaper with inuch crackling and 
 widely opened arma. " Don't sit so near it. In my young 
 days the childrén were never allowed to come any nearer the 
 fireplace than the outside of the hearth-rug." Then he began 
 to rea'd again, muttering, " Confound that reporter !" 
 
 Diçk glanced athim, and then he said, in a Inw voiee, Î^Max 
 loves you because you are so kind to him, Miss Lois ; it ia 
 worth while to be a dog to bave you'' — 
 
 "Grive him bones?" Lois cried hurriedly. " Yes, it is too- 
 hot in hère, father ; don't you thirtk so ; don't vou want mq 
 to open the window ?" ^ , " ^ : - 
 
 Dr. Howe looked up, surpriled. "If you want to, child,'^ 
 li^ said. "Dear me, l'm afraid I bave not been very enter- 
 uH^ing, Mr. Forsyihe. What do you think of this attack on 
 our candidate ?• Contemptible, isn't it ? What? I hâve no- 
 respect for any one who can think itanything bubj abominable 
 ,and outrageous." 
 
 " It's scandal^ïs !" Diek answered,— and then in a smiling 
 
 îisper to Lois, he added, "l'm afraid to tell the^edoctor l'm 
 
 ■smocrat^" ' ^ 
 
 when Lois was (j[uite aloue that nigbt, 
 
 cheeks 
 
 ^ , she fouud her- 
 iling in the darkness, "and a thrilj of pride niade her 
 
 ■*• 
 
 tbah the tire had done. 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Yes." said Miss Deborah Woodhouse,^ as she stood in thé^ 
 doorway of Miss Ruth's studio, " yes, we must give a dinner,. 
 party, sis%r It is certainly the proper thing to do, now that 
 the Forsythès are going back to the city. Is is to be expected 
 of us, sister.'* 
 
 Well> I don^t-knew ilitit iL i s^x p eetc 
 
 Ruth, who never agi-eed too readily to any suggestion of Mis» 
 Deborah's ; " but 1 think we ought to do it. I meant to bave 
 spoken to you about it." 
 
 ^ùjk. 
 
 f7% 
 
 ^^-^i 
 
7a 
 
 - :.] 
 
 
 JONH WARD. PREACHER. 
 
 
 where she had be"on a « wt ■ ^'«' »">a » «anvas, 
 
 The «tudio waïdarlt a £To?'S^ '" be appie-Wo,,»™,.' 
 
 ■ail the low gray sky TUb w^Ï November rain blurred 
 
 fan the length of ï^e woodshed ?fW """T*'. "'»"'''*''■ "'''«h 
 ■voted to art) wa5 st^pZ^?» •./ '' P""* "^ ""'«h *«» de- 
 
 "ymphs and satvrs in fo. -V ??' ^"^ ^^"^ engrav ngs of 
 hère to make room in t^/r^'^^'T"'' ^'"chhad beenhun' 
 
 Smiy distressed mL Fiu^ T ^^'^^«^^^?^ ^^o^'d hâve 
 kepfc scrupulousiy bSt and ;i« ^'"".^er paint-tnbes were 
 
 «f place. Perhaps thfs „ade lu; - "' /^ ^''^ '"^^"^^^ 
 little dreary certain! v f? i i. f '^'''" '" ^^'^ woodshed a 
 standing inTheS/^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^«« Deborah 
 
 . ^alls,the bare raS^nli Tp r ■^'''""^- '^"^^"'^^^^^ 
 window. ' '^""^ ^'^« sweeping rain agàinst the ' 
 
 a^nS^t'^Sir^'î' "^^"^«-^^ ^'- ^--, and lel 
 
 US mange abolit tlie dinuer.' 
 
 bruahS.- '"' *^"' «""'• ^'Shing. "i „,„3t waah thèse 
 
 •tbreshold. '*' ''^'"'^'' '""i ^fced itself und^p the 
 
 i-w^sii.n^^iatSetL'^fnh'^b^^r"^'''^- "^- 
 
 I suppose you dou't know how arH<,M ^'"f 'f , ^"^ "'«■« ' 
 
 fings.» She stopped C en„u»h to ..rt ?" "1^'" '»'"• 
 
 , <ae the strings of her lono whit^^ take off her gloves and 
 
 I No. I suppose I don't unde.?l,TMiss Befeorah ac- 
 
 
',aj,i.>^ 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 knowledged ; "but never mind. we can talk hère, only it is a 
 littledamp. What do you think of asking them fot Thurs- 
 day ? It 18 a good day for a dinner party. You are well 
 over the washing and irouing, you know, and you hâve Wed- 
 nesday for the jelhes and creamS, besides a two good houi-s in 
 the afternoon to get out the best china and see to the silver 
 ^riday is for cleaning up and putting things away. because 
 baturday one is always busy getting ready for Sunday." <;. 
 rridr- ^^«"^""■ed. "I should rather hâve it on a 
 
 "Well you dou't know anything about the house-k^ping 
 part of it sai.l Miss Deborah. promptly. - And I doin be- 
 lieve William Denner would want to corne then ; you know 
 he is quite superstitious about Friday. Besides, it is not 
 convenient for me/' she added. settling tho matter once for ail. 
 Uh, 1 ve no objection to Thursday," said Miss Ruth. " I 
 -don t know but that I prefer it. Yes, we will hâve it on 
 Ihursilay. Having thus asserted Jierself, Miss Rutli be^an 
 to put away her paints and cover her canvas. "^ 
 
 "It isa pity the whist Was put off to-ni^ht," said Miss 
 X^eborah; " we could hâve arranged it at the rectory. But if 
 1 see Adèle J)ale to-morrovv, l'il tell her." 
 
 "I bon/' said Miss Paith quickly, "thatyou'll do uothin" 
 or the soi't. • " 
 
 '* What!" exclaimed Miss Deborah. 
 
 1? "fJ^i^A^^" '^'■'^'' ^^'^ invitations, if you please," said Miss 
 xiutn Joftily. 
 
 " Fiddlesticks I" retorted the other. " We'll write the 
 *orsythes, of course, but the people at the rectory and Adèle 
 -Uale ? — nonsense !" , 
 
 " It is not nonsense," Miss Ruth answered ; it is proper and 
 it must be doue. I understand thèse things, Deborah • you 
 are so taken up with your cookmg. you cannot really be ex- 
 pected to know. Wlien yoii^^ «^ city people to a formai 
 dmner^ everything must beiénëmcently and in order. It 
 18 not hke asking the rector anVddelé to drop in to tea any 
 
 ^'Fudp!" responcîed Miss Ûehorah. 
 
 A faint color began to show in Miss Ruth's faded cheek, 
 ^^d she set her lips firmly. "The invitations should be 
 wntten, she said. 
 
 W ' 
 
 ^.JL, 
 
78 
 
 f 
 
 r 
 
 JOHN WARD, PKEACHER. 
 
 and Mi E„r"\" "f* '"'^"'^ "> "«l^'^ *' hterthan six ' 
 "4. ""' ' """°* !*'■■'»''''''" '>*'l «n'y broHght it to hit 
 
 he taken into the purlor " "^ " ^"^^ ^^^y ^* 
 
 àtfté". 
 
 iwrfi***»;»** 
 
 - Il 
 
 
JOHN WARD, PRfeACHER. 
 
 79 
 
 '< w"i¥!?\?'*^^'t; , ^""^ ""^'^^ ^« ^^^^ ^^rah justbrought in ?" 
 Well, Miss Deboràh replied, witH anxious pride in her 
 
 îr^' ulr'î ""î^ ^^^^''' ^ ^"°^' b"* ^^ does look 80 well I 
 ï? ^? u ?'^^^ ''' a»yhow. It is Sic it\ir ad astra." 
 Ihis dish had been "composed" by Miàs Deborah manyyears 
 ?f ' ^K T ^«"«ider^d by ail her friends her greltest 
 tmimph. Dr.Howe had cKristened it, declarintî that it was- 
 ot a semi-religious nature, but in Miss Deborah's pronuniîïr 
 tion the Latin was no longer recogni/able. 
 
 It consisted of an àrrangemeiit of strips of eandied oi^ange 
 ancl lemon peel, intended to represeiit a nest of straw On it 
 )m-e placed jellied creams in différent goIois, which had been 
 ^run mtfo egg-shells to stiffen. The whole was intended to 
 sug-est a nest of new-laid eggs. The hc.usekeeper will at onc 
 •recognize the trouble and eipense of siich a dish, as the shells 
 •whicli served for moulds had first to be emptiod of their con- 
 tents through a small hole in one end, hopelessly mixing the 
 fhites andyolks, and leaving them useless for tine cooke?y 
 
 .No vvoluler, then, that Miss Debbrah's face beamed witlî 
 ^ri((e Lut Afiss lluth's showed nothing but eontempt. 
 ^%t7^th4— barii.doordishrshetijacijlated. ' 
 .■ 'yarifi-dOt.r?**faltepedMssl)eborali. 
 
 "îîarn-yardv I mean," «aic^her sistev st(^ulv. " The kUx 
 ijfeî^o.^^f ^ "" ""lis l Ef^ster is the only excuse for it It 
 iS'QMiiigiitied,— ^ js absurd,— it is— it is prepog^terçuH ' 
 
 .s-good," Miss I)eboi;^h inaintained stoutly. ' ) 
 
 • •• 1 uon't deny tliat," said Miss IJuth, thinîting th*>.N ^^^^U^r 
 
 im-en for dinner the n£xt day, an.l perham t!u'> next ftlso . 
 
 f|>rit takes^more tjmn one day for a fiiïuip.f two u» eat up 
 
 tiie.rçmn>ftt^f a ditmer party,— '; but yo#uiuM see'itia ont 
 
 ..01 place at a formel dinner, It nitist ;iot ap^nir 
 
 i)iscussi^n was uselest. 'Kach was detenmnoil. for-éaoh 
 îelt her partitjular province had been iuva'ded. AM nwh 
 m-i;jed^hQf 1)01114: ^The-dish dfd not appear on tlie tal.le yefr 
 every^est wais^ asked if lie or slie would hâve houio '^tiic- 
 
 T^..1:1^"F:-Z'^''.^^^ housenmid it wys mi^ wonl^whi% 
 was on thçWëBôard. .. ê 
 
 ^ .But thQ^aiixièti^s of the (lénnef was nqt Q^r ev«n- when the 
 mwç ^iças ,as bfeautjfjil M statdy as could be Ib^r^fh and - 
 Miss DfbOrah waaf^'cohsci""» ^>^"^ -'.- '^^ .!_? _iZrf. V 
 
 % 
 
 h 
 
 "■tp- 
 
 y" m 
 
 »' 
 
 l'î 
 
 m * 
 
 ^_ 
 
 4 
 
 «K 
 
 
 ..)f 
 
 
 t o 
 
 '"»** 
 
 ci^us t^t^ aAiwy't<ifeh \vas péffect 
 
 
 aj^,^«4 
 
 .ife^ lf!m*' 
 
 fj* 
 
 ..* 
 
 '^Msi.'. 
 
80 
 
 M 
 
 ■*' .... 
 
 JOHX WABD, PKEACHER. 
 
 The two iittle ladies, tired, but satisfied, had vet to dkas 
 
 ZcfthZ^ TfvrY' '^ *^" ""^k' «"^^ «"ed with point- 
 iace that Jooked like fiosted cobwebs. The sleeves of her 
 
 CIZ? 'r ', '"i^* ^"^'^^^^^ ^"^« ^ wristUnd :: r poin'' 
 
 iHrnnt f .''"'.t^^'^^ '"^^ ^^^ !'"'« ^^^ds, folded prindv 
 
 Lve 1 '![; r^^tl« bishops " Miss Deborah cal4ed thèse 
 rcWlv fin y ^^' ^"^ ''y ^*^^^' ^^' ^'' P^rt, she thought 
 
 rtïïVool ?h ?fK '''^'^^ '^^ '-'"^^ ^"tôlier- 
 
 sisters room that they might go down togethei' 
 
 short'Tno^l ;vas still in lier gray linsey-woolsey petticoat, 
 woikert sdk stoQkmgs. Shestood witli one hand restirio^ on the 
 clin..r'li^ ^^ ^' ^'^' .^^'"•' fragrance of rose leaves which 
 
 riuDon wouid be more beconim». 
 
 " liuth !" said Miss Deborahrin majestic disapproval 
 iheyoungersistergavealittle jump of frigHt and drouoed 
 
 detected her Çhoughts. " I-I'H be ready directly, sister/' 
 «,,-fi rP! '*''' "»^^^» " sai.l Mifls Deborah severely,and moved 
 with dehberate digiiity fwm the room, «hile ^C Éuth 
 
 Mb '/.f ''' '''V''' •^'•^««>- ^h« i#-bed.sfead. vS 
 had^_iourche,rry .w ood _pn^f^ c^ m d in u M ale bak.uu.s aiid 
 
 disks, and a stfiped dimitv valance -^ 
 
 thetlLl^lu't'^^^ importance of the nylit ribboi, and 
 tue i^8pon«ibdity of ehoice pppressed her; but it was toi late 
 
 y A 
 
 ■♦^jStlKJ /,-H 
 
• \ 
 
 JOHN WABD, PREACHER. 
 
 81 
 
 -I. "J," 
 
 for any. further thought. She shut her eyes tioht and with a 
 
 Satisfied, since fate so decided it, that gray was the right ' 
 color she pinned it at her throat With^ai; old brooch of 
 chased and twisted gold, and gave alast glance at her 
 -iwinging g.ass before joining her sister in the parlor The 
 exntement had brought a faint «ush into her soft cheek. and 
 e eyes were brighf , arid the gray ribbon had a pretty g eam 
 
 ^. th^ of ;^?gE "ZH^ ' '''''' '^' -- '-' -' -^ 
 
 " It's high time yen were down, Kuth," cried ]^iss Deborah, 
 wlio stood ,,n he rug m front of the blazing tire, rubbino. her 
 liancfs nervously toget^ier,-" high lime '" " 
 
 " Why, they won't be hcre for a quarter of an hour vet sis- 
 ter," proteated Miss Paith. " ' 
 
 ' Wel], you shôûJd be hère ! I do hope tii.y wont be late • 
 tiie ven/Hon i« to \^. taken ouï of the tin kitchen preci.sely at 
 
 Af T. u ' ^ '^ /•'• ^ ^"""^y ^"^ ^^^i^ tlî^y «re late." 
 Miss Juith went. but had scarcely crossed the threshold when 
 M.s-s Deboral, cried, 'Corne back, corne bact, lluth ! You 
 m^.8t be hère «-hen tliey conie," and then bustledfaway her- • 
 thnnoh ^•^^^^^*' .t'^« housemaid lo be readjrto C3j,en the door, 
 
 te 'f "' ff'"' ^"^'* ^'""'^ ^^^^' '' ^«'^ ^ Sood^mrter of an 
 lïour before the most impatient ,u<3st niight be e^.ected. 
 
 Miss Kuth went about, straightenmg a chair, ™« pullin.> an ' 
 
 ccdles in the brass sconces on either-side of the old piano. 
 
 .ZZt T ''°''''^^' ^^'°"^ '^ ^"^^'«'^ ^«^'^^^^ ^*«« I>«borah ' 
 so much it was a «reat rehef to hear the first camaye and >' 
 
 -1 stdf Tr "^l'^ ''^'; ^^""-^^"^ ^^^^- ^^^ ban and up 
 
 Miss Deborah plucked Miss iluth's sleeve, ^id, settlingthe 
 
 he^on ttT" ^;TVr^ T'^^^''' ^^'''^ h arci^torriaiid b^ i do , . 
 iiei on thelig. " And do, dear Kuth, try and bave rnprerepose ' t 
 
 with that stately attection which was parPbf thé occasion, 
 
 '.-'» ■ ■ „', ^ ^ "". ^ '*' 
 
 
 I 11. 
 
 <i' 
 
 llpHi 
 
•>,. 
 
 82 
 
 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEÇ. 
 
 Miss Ruth in turn ■ and Mrs. Dalé lesponded witli equal gra- 
 o ?3'^' ÏÏ ."'' afearent reçollection that tliey had almost, 
 <mrre]ed «lat yeiy moinmg ât thé post-officê. when . Mrs 
 J^le said that the first clofch to be rèmovéd ât dinner sbould 
 i)e roifiea iii tours. < . , ■ • - „ * 
 
 - Mr. Uenner waâ fche'next to arrive, and while he was still 
 
 making li^is bow tlie Forsytheâ came.Ui; Dick Jookincr over 
 
 • ^ the hends of the little ladies. asthoiigh in search of sonîe oiie 
 
 else and his môther lanc^iiidiyacknowledging that it was an 
 
 wffTrV*'TT?'''i"^'*^-7ïï" Lois and tl,e rector came 
 '^''.f^Gf^meipmyton, aud Miss Deborah bieitthed a .si..h of 
 reJifit tliat the vehisop would not be kèpt.waitin'o- 
 
 Ihen Miss i)eborah^took Miss Fom'tlfe's- ariri, while Miss 
 
 ■ h^l\V r -^ "'^^'''^'^ ^^'^ iTttle- procession, and theV inarche.l 
 mto the chtiing-roopr ^id took tli^ir plaéés aboiit the table, 
 ^IitLeruig vvith silver-ind glass, and lighted bv oleamiiic wax ' 
 
 ^tapers Jt Jmd not occurri^d to Uielitfle ladiës h> place Dlek 
 .liear Lois. Mrs. Dmyton vvas the ladyupon his right an.l 
 
 ' anT.Jll^rOalt'''''^'" '''''^' """"portant people as Mr. Denner 
 ', l)ick Vas the .Ikyn of the dinner, and ail that he said was 
 hsteued towith. déférence aud even awe. : But it was a relief 
 to Lois not to hâve to talk to hîiu. . She sat now at Mr Den- 
 n^rs side, listemng.to the .stûall str«ain of vvoi-ds bubblin- 
 along m a-cheerful inouotony. wifeli scarceîy a.period for lier 
 answers. She was glad it^jvVâs so ; for thougii lier apple-blos- 
 sorti face was droope-d a littH and her gray eyes were liot 
 often lifte.1, and she looked.th<' entbodiment of maiden inno- 
 cence and unworldliness. Lois was thinking the thou-hts 
 which occupied- her niuch of late ; weighing, and iudcThi.. 
 strugghng to reach som^ knoxvledge of herself, yet alway's fli' ' 
 the same perplexity. Did she love Dick Forsythe ? There 
 was no doubt in her mind that slie loved the life he repre- 
 
 6811 ed : but hirther thaii tliis she could not go. Yet he was 
 
 fu„il"^ t\._^, ^'''P','«^*^' a»4 joved her so much. If. then and " 
 
 =«^«W=4îïtve=wlïi? 
 
 )n wnmh was -1 
 
 trenibling o.i lus lip.i Lors wae near^nough to love to hav 
 sain 1 es. 
 
 ^^ Binner was nearly over; that l^st deeultory conversation ^ 
 
 A' 
 
 <*^ # 
 
 **■"■_•■»■ 
 
JOHN' WAUD, PICEACHEK, 
 
 •8â' 
 
 hacrbesuri, whioh was to be ended-by abow fi-om^Miss i'fe 
 tn tter w,„e, hal€ hstening, and hait watchi„ff„,'tïe '^iL'.'îS 
 
 ifc d2 l^mJir ^'''""' "^ ^'"=" «" H™" "' .-^' 
 
 "les/' replied the little lîuly " dear Triffi TT^». t • ù u 
 Meie Mers He wonld so enjoy meetino- Mr. iWsvblS" 
 
 Lois smiled iirvoluntarily, 'Jd tfiecu?rent or^Sou^hts 
 ,suddenly turiied. She saw a-ain the fra.>i-aht flnjl i .1 
 -ctory ^arden. and heard the wind in the fv^ p If f ^ 
 tiit^treinble in a strong voice at her side ^T ° ' 
 
 bhe was as perplexed as ever when the ladie.^ wenEack to 
 
 I shal miss yoa very nmch this winter, Lois " she said 
 n her mild y comphtining voice. " You haA'é been ve n ^ood ^ 
 
 r mdVl"'f;;«^"''.'""!*^^'^^'«b^«" "^«^e tho^|fetfuT.^înd 
 i coidd not hâve loved a daugliter of my ovvn more " S i 
 ..;tlyp.t.Uhehand she hehi, . Biek ^s n^!^- ,, * 
 
 " l'm sorry," fali'ered Lois. ' . 
 
 ^hJ^îfi^;^ reached the p.irkyr'door; and Mrs. For.^the bent 
 «J ei head towards tlie girl's ear. « I hope-I tnisf-he wiH 
 be, befol-e we leave Ashurst " ^ tiusi— ne wUl 
 
 .e^^iSla! ^^^-^-P^l^; ^-- could she grieve this 
 
 ;;^using her mfi.^nceto bring.about tlie'd.sirp^^^Z!^ 
 
 Lois had gone, at Miss iTfrborah's reqliest to thp nio, a 
 ''èguat.osing,inhersweei girhsh vo1?rl' oW^f IT"' ^^ 
 songs which the sisters liked ' ' oW-fasbioned 
 — "Jamie's on flm' àf^.^^.. ■,..,■ !>■ — *-^ J — ^-^ '. — V 
 
 -L 
 
 /-. K. 
 
 ■6»-K 
 
 . «' 
 
 # 
 i^>.. 
 
 M ^ 
 
 ■■i' : 
 
 S nn the itormy. 
 
 uroup oHriie, about tl,e Hre, ani bent^^'t *tu :^r 
 
 ,, -ft. , — "™.... C..O .lie, a 1(1 uent over her ahould.>r 
 .Vsuknowthey go ô„ SatUrilay, Lob." shiTak "IV, 
 
 I»;.*) .. «d^LA^.tdùit 
 
84 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 ^y 
 1 1 
 
 much iiï love. Yau will bc^ perfectly happy, if you will only 
 he sensible ! I hope yoti will be e^t home aloné tô-morrow.'* 
 
 When the gentlfmeu ent^red, Dick Forsythè vyas quick to * 
 naake lus way to Lois, sitting în'the gliramer of the wax- 
 lights m thesconces, at the old piano. 
 
 ^- .%è.stopijBd, and let her hands fall vvith a soft crash on the 
 vjPellow keys. • *" 
 
 ■'Do go on.*' hepleaued. ' ,' . , • 
 
 "^To," she said, "it is too cold over hete- let ns conie to 
 ^e tîpe," and she siipped away to her father's sidt. After * 
 that she was silônt nntilit was tinie to say good-night, for iio 
 imv expeeted htr to speak althoStigh Dick was the centée of ' 
 ^tiae gvonp, and did most of ihe tàlking. Later^^nthe e^•ening 
 "tbey ha d some- Whist, and £ilter,that, just be|É»re the party 
 laroke up, Mr. Denner was asked.-JU*-siiig. 
 
 He rose, coughed depreca^in^ly-^ and glanced sidèwise at 
 Mr. Forsytlie ; lie ifeared he was ont of tune. Jîut ^liss 
 Debornh jnsisted with f!reat politeness! 
 
 " Tt Miss Ruth would bt sogood as-to acconij^xiny me," said 
 r. Denner, " I niight at loast make-the attonipt.". 
 Miss Ruth was shy about playing, in public, but Mr. Den- 
 ner eiK'ouraijed hers " You must overcq^ne your timidity, my 
 dea,r Miss Ruth," he said. " I— I am awKre that it is quitc 
 painlFul; but oneought uot to allow it to beerjtne a habit, as 
 it wete. Tt should be conqneYed in eàrly life;" , > 
 
 So Miss Ruth allbwed niin to lead her to the pixino. There 
 was a little stir about finding thé niusic, before they were 
 ready to begin ; then Mr. Denner ran hisi tingers through his 
 brown wig, and, placins» his sniall lean hands on his bips, 
 rocked back and forth on his little hetds, while he sang in a 
 sweet but somt*whaL light and uncertain voice, — 
 
 " L^asie ^y tbe lintrwhite locks, ^ 
 
 Bdnnie lAgaie ! artless JassM ! 
 Will ye wr me tent the flocks, >." 
 
 Will ye be Œ^ dearie, ?" 
 
 ' . * ■ f\ 
 
 This wa» received with gj^at applause -, then every one-said 
 goyd - night, nssuriug eacli aîa^ei tlmc it h^d beeti a delighiml "^ 
 evening ; ànd fînally the Jâet caiTinge rollcd off into the dark- 
 ness, and the Hisses Woodhouse were léit^ tyiumphâii^ly . ex- 
 |iau8ted^to<^sciiss the diunerjmd theîrtMi|b^ . ' 
 
 f 
 
 . ^ 
 
 tt^-".- 
 
 ; 
 
 •., t- 
 
3 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREÀCHER. 
 
 85 
 
 ot. ^solution which MrsNjrorsjthe's whispered '• CTOod-iiio-ht 
 Loi^^ ; be good td my boy t- hatl giveft her . ' 
 
 her wi-arl'r? ^^' ^^^'^Y ^C'^^' ^^^^'^^^^' '^"^' ^hrowing orf 
 maVI ,m 1, J" r i*'" hearth-rug, and determined to ' ^ 
 
 r xndfrn ""wV ^^^f ^^^ «he Wto put a^ fresh log OU ' 
 
 ows tvitil a leapmg flaniÊ lighteéke shadowy room. Xhe 
 
 came ^id put lus Iiead on her knee,.to he petted, au<l Lois's 
 ( thoughts waudered off to the dinner parU., and Mr Demier's ' 
 mSîifa f ^'^r' .t^ingsMiss&bo^^h euoked, anShow ' 
 iTp r tW . ,"'"'*^ "'''' Gifford; sothat she did not even 
 liear the h«nt door open, or kuow that Dict Forsythe had • 
 entiered,t/nt,lsheheardMax^snarI, and some one sa d in a / 
 tone which lacked its tisual ass.rrance, " I-I ho],e Fm -no? ^ 
 disttirbnig you, Miss Lois ?" ' l c i m noc 
 
 She was on%er,feett,efore he had a cfiaaôe to help her /' 
 dTsm^; '^ ''^"" ^^ ''^^ ^'^''^'^'': astonishment an^ 
 
 ^ What would aunt Deely- .ay, wliat wauld Miss Beborah 
 1^ rÀrr^TTT-''^^^ .t^entlemah afene after 
 mnfuLdt j.,^ >^«^'' '^^ hastily, so 
 
 cmitused and startled she scareel^^ knew what she was say n- • 
 
 
 i .' 
 
 "*i 
 
 " Oh, ,l,m't," ho saicl ;_ " i likèJlw firelight." Bnt she had 
 
 Koîle Jt nL ■ '"^"'" ""^ '"'' /."""« «anaiways weit 
 when Silly ha,Igo„e out, ami she .vïa« lett alone .to aee thé 
 .-etber him, yet, to her oivn surprise, she began to fèerqàiet 
 
 ■ ... - ' 
 
 • Mi 
 
 1 
 
 V 
 
 / 
 
J. 
 
 I m 
 
 i 
 
 80 
 
 JOHN V^TLT), PREACHEE. 
 
 calm, andalmost indiffèrent ; she kngAK whv' Dick l^ad" corne, 
 but she did not eveiï then know what lier ansvvér woiild be. 
 , ^ " Yes — no — 1 don't k low," he fm-swered. "jÏÏie.f^ét is, I 
 Vmly seenied to h've, Miss Lois, until I could get heie to see 
 you to-night. I heard yôur father say he was going home 
 with Denner, and I thought yoii'd be alone. So I came, y I 
 could not stand any more suspense !"■ he adtjed,vvith some- 
 thing lik<^ a sob in his vpice. I 
 
 " Lois's heart gave one jump of fright, and Ihen was quiet. 
 She thought, vaguelV, that she was glad he had Kushed into it 
 at once, sothat she need not keep up that terrible fencing, 
 but she did not speak. -She had been sittiug in a corner of 
 the leather-covered sofa, and his exciteinent, ashe«tood look- 
 iiig at lier, made her rise. /' 
 
 He grasped her liands in his, wriiiiii'iiig theni sharjjly as he 
 fpoke, not even noticihg lier little ciy of paiti, or her efforts 
 to release herself. "You know .1 love you, — you know it ' 
 Why haveii't you \et me tell you so ? Oh, Lois, how Ir^vely 
 you are to-night, — how Imppy we shall be !" 
 
 He kissed one of her hands witK a suddcn sayage passion 
 that' frightened her. " Oh —don't," sire said, shrinking back, 
 fuid pulling her hands away from him. 
 
 He looked at her blankly a moment, but whep lie spoke 
 again it was gently. "Did I frighten you ? I.did n't nican' to ; 
 but you know I love you, That lias n't startled you ? Tell me 
 you care f^^r me Lois." 
 
 " But — but "—said Lois, sorrv and ashamed " I — don't !" 
 
 The eager boyish fiice, so near her own, tlushed with siidden 
 ai^er. "You don't ? You must ! \Vhy-—why, L love you. It 
 cannot hv that you really^don't — tell me ?" ^ 
 
 But thereAVas no doubt in Lois's iiiind now. " ludeed, Mr. 
 Forsythe," she said, " indeed, 1 am so sorry, but I don't — I 
 can't!" 
 
 A sulleu look clouded his handsouie fnvv. " l cannot 
 believe it," he sa,id, at length. " You hâve knftwn thati loved 
 you ail sumnier ;'you cannot b^i so crue? as to tritle witJi me 
 
 new. -Ytra-trrti TTtTt trcîrtr me st) . OfrrL 
 
 Their vva.- 
 
 almost a w^,il in his voice, and lie threw himself dow n in a 
 chair and covered his face with» his hands. 
 ,I^is did not çpeak. Her lip curled ahttle, but il waspartjy 
 
 •*-*■'.' 
 
\ 
 
 "^ 
 
 JOIfN Wém. rilBACHEK. 
 
 •■ 87 
 
 with coiitempt for her*lf aiMl her past uncertulStv '• T »,„ 
 
 <«■ atdeast he cU. not, gmsp the si^nificauce of h.r wort s 
 
 He began to pleaii anj.protest. •■ We will il so Z™.,, i, 
 you «Il „„Ij. eare for me. ji.st think howTl fe:" '2 k^ 
 wJn>e ; yoa shall hâve eve.ything i„ this woHd'v.i^wJ^f: 
 
 Shecm.1,1 notclieck his torrent «fwor.ls, aiul wliei, at last 
 j.«_stopped heha,laI,„o,steonvi„ced hi.usélf that "he Wd 
 
 I ^rbt/'rt^L'r;!;.' ' •=^'"""' '-" ^™ "-- "-'--ed 
 
 He w,^ silent, as thoufth tr.vinj; to understand. 
 
 ^hId?Fréut"T„-S- ,^''" '«>">■ '"«^" to mak.. me wret- 
 
 T . 1 orget it ? 1 wish to Heaveii I conld '" 
 
 Lois duhnoL speak. Theie seemed to l.e notliin- to sav 
 You hâve et me think you cared." he we ^ôn '' and I 
 liave bluk on it; 1 have staked ail Iny happ'nèss n 'it I am' 
 a runied nian if you don't kn-e me. Ând you coo lly e'il me 
 you do not G^ire for me : Can't you try to ? nïS^ V. ^ 
 i^appy, if you>ili only niake nie happv Lo'J^v^^ ^'"' '' 
 • "Please-ple^e," she protested, " do dof. s.y anvtln-n. 
 more ; it nevA- can be,^i„deed, it cahnot •" ^ ^^^'^''""^ 
 
 su,an., 1 supp.i ^.^Ide^^ tnkT:^^^^^ 
 everybody else thought so, t-.o " ^ ^ ' >"'^ 
 
 ^ co,IpL,ee"'she «m.'rhe'ta'tk^'lîdt'r, *^<f^i 
 \ a flash nf ;n^,-«r,nf ° • i_ DaLk,.and looked at him with 
 
 i .1 Jiasn or maif'nation m her eves " Tir, a- ^.i <^i;- ^^ v ■ , ■ 
 
 hi:'i^Z;::i:;31!:i;UT-^".^"°°-^''i^wor,lswhe„ you ,ive - 
 
 .fn;^'::!:!'gr.^:-!:k-^'-^":u,::M;.-i:^.gi 
 
 N 
 
 yo.. say there's iny hope, Or.do yott lo^ftlo^i^Ue' ' tS ■ ' 
 that ,the reasoji ?" "^^■T^'^J ^•'«e r 1$ 
 
 I dçnV' *^^ '^''^''^ '^ '^' ^^'^^ ^' '' ^^%^..^<^tly. - but 
 
 ' iVf* 
 
 
 
 '5 ;;j 
 
 -^ 
 
 
 
 j^^'îk'.', . ,• .• »>, * 'Afa'j^i^ 
 

 ;« 
 
 88 
 
 •^. 
 
 '^^ 
 
 ^Kl^ ■ 
 
 / JOHK WARD, PKEAeHER. 
 
 .. - .^\ ■ ■ . ' '■ ""■ 
 
 " Theii,'.' said Dick eageily, " you iiiust love me, oiily yoii 
 dpn't recognize it, iiot liaving been in loVe before. Of ooursc- 
 it's différent witli a girl whodoesn't know what love is. Oh, 
 say you do !" 
 
 Lois, witli ([uick compuiiction for lier aiiger, was gentle 
 enough novv. " I cannot stiy sa I wisli you would forget 
 me, and forgive nie if you can. T'ni sorry to havo grieved 
 you, — truly I a m." 
 
 There was silence for a few ■ minutes, only broken by a 
 yawn froin Max and the .snapping of the fire. 
 
 " I tell you I cannot forget," ^le youug man said, at last. 
 
 "You hâve ruined my lile for me. Do you think l'il be 
 apt to forget the woman that's done that ? l'il love you al- 
 ways, but life is practically over for me. Uemendjer that, the 
 iiext time you amuse yourself, Miss Howe !" Then, without 
 aiiother word, he turned on his heel and left lier. 
 
 Lois drew a Iflj^. breath as she heard him slam the front 
 
 then she sat down on the rug again, 
 |,cry, tliough lier hands shook with ner- 
 all lier excitement was the sting of 
 iiorse. 
 
 Max, with that strange understaudinii whicli animais S(jme- 
 tnnes show, suddenly turned and licked lier face, and then 
 .looked at her, ail his love speaking in his soft brown eyes. 
 
 " Oh, Max, dear," Lois cried, fiinging her anus around him, 
 and resting her cheekon his shilling head, " what a comfort 
 you are ! How niucli nicer ilogs are than ineu !" 
 
 door behind Iri 
 She was too 
 vousness.' 
 mortificatîon i 
 
 ■'I ;. 
 
 î 
 
f^i ,1 
 
 •*ç» w^ 
 
 ""t 
 
 :>i ■ 
 
 JOHX WAKD. PREACHEît. 
 
 89 
 
 vjf 
 
 GHAPÏEIi X. '^ 
 
 Uu. HowE, with no thouglit of Mr. Fcu-sytho' 
 
 «€ 
 
 •ons caJl ut , the lectory, liad gone hot^e witinlCfr. Dennor 
 •'One nowls a walk," he said, " after oUe of Miss Deborali's 
 <luiner.s. Bless niy souI, what a housekeoper that womàn îs '" 
 
 "Just so," said Mr. Donner, luirryino- along at his side,— 
 •'just so. Ah— il lias often occnrreir'to me." 
 
 And when the rector had left hini at his white trateway be- 
 tween the Lombirdy poplars, Mr. iJenner weut into his 
 hbrary, and after stunibling aboiit to light his hinip, and stir- 
 ring his fir-e to hâve a seniblance, al least, of cheer, he sat 
 down and meditated f urther on this subjectof Miss Deborah's 
 house-keeping. 
 
 It was a dreary rooni, witli lofty ceilings and few an<l nar- 
 vow wnidows. ïhe liouse was mnch lower than the street 
 and had that piercing chill of danipness which belongs to 
 houses in a hollovv, and the little gentleman drew so close to 
 the smouldering fire tliat his feet were inside the fender. 
 
 He leaned forwàrd, and resting his elbows on his knees 
 propped his chin on his hands, and stared at the smoke curl-' 
 ing heavily up into the cavernous chimney, where the soot hun^^ 
 ongandblack. It was very lonely. Willie Denner, of course! 
 had long ago gone to bed, and unless the lawyer chose to ^o 
 mto the kitchen for conipauy, where Mary was reading her 
 one vvork of fiction, « The Accoimts of the Death Beds of 
 ^Lminent Saints," he had no one to speak to. Many a time 
 betore had he sat thus, pondering on the solitude of his life 
 and contrastmg his house with other Ashurst homes. He 
 gjanced about his cold bare room, and thouglit of the parlor 
 ^f the Misses W oodhouse. How pleasant it wak bow hrigbt. 
 
 and full ôf prètty féminine de vices ! whereas his Hbrary— 
 Mary had been a hard miatress. One by one the domestic ' 
 décorations of the late lady of the liouse had disappeared. ' 
 bhe could not "bave things round a-trapin' dust," Mary said 
 and her word was law. ' 
 
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90 
 
 JOHN WARD, PKEACHEIJ. 
 
 " If my little sister liad lived," he said, ciouching nearer 
 the fiie, and watchiiig a spark catch in the soot and spread 
 over the chimney-back like a little marching régiment, that 
 wheeled and manœuvred, and then suddenly vanished, " it 
 would hâve been différent.*' She woiild Ji|ye niaUe^ thino-s 
 bnghter. Perhaps she .would hâve painted, fîkelîliss Ruth ; 
 and I hâve no doubt she ^ould havie \^een an excellent house- 
 keeper. We would hâve just lived (juietlv hère, sRe and I 
 and I need never have/thought"— Mr. Dernier tiushed faintly 
 m the fire-light— " of liiaiTiage." 
 
 Mr. Denner's mind had often traveled as far as this ; he had 
 even gone to the point of sayingto himself ihat he wishedone 
 of the Misses Woodhouse would regard him with sentiments- 
 of affection, and he and Willie, free from Mary, coul(( hâve a 
 home of their own, instead oi forlornly envying the rector 
 and Henry Dale. 
 
 But Mr. Deiiner had never said which Miss W'oodliouse ; 
 he had always thought of them, as he would havo expressed 
 it, " collectively," nor could he hâve told wliich oiie he most 
 admired,— he called it by no warmer name, even to himself. 
 
 But as he sat hère alone, and remembered the pleasant 
 evening he had had, and watched his fîre snoulder and die, 
 and heard the soft sigh of the rising wind, he reacheil a tre- 
 mendous concli^sion. He would make up his mind. He would 
 décide which of the Misses \yoodhouse possessed his deeper 
 regard. " Yes," he said, as he lifted tirst one foot and then 
 the other over the fender, and, pulling his little coat-tails 
 forward underhis anns, stobdwith his back to the «replace, 
 — •' yes, I will make up my mind ; I will make it up to- 
 morrow. I cannot, go ou in this uucertain way. I cannot 
 allow myself to think of Miss Ruth. and how she would paint 
 her pictures, and play my accompaniments, and then find my 
 mind on Miss Deborah's dinners. It is impracticable ; it is 
 almost improper. To-morrow I will décide." 
 
 To hâve reached this conclusion, was to hâve accoinpiished 
 
 a great deal 
 Mr. Denner 
 
 - - much ch o orcd j^but lie dreatned o t' 
 
 walkmg about Miss Ruth's studio, and admiring her pictures, 
 when, to his disraay, he found Mary had followed him and 
 was saying she could n't bear things ail of a clutter. 
 
 9^ 
 
 
 ■^Wi 
 
 . <(^:Ù 
 
 -»•. 
 
JOHN WARD, PREA-CHER. 
 
 91 
 
 l^lie iiextr niorning lie ate his breakfast in soJcuiil liaste ; it 
 ^as to be an important day for him. He wafcehed Mary as 
 she walked about, liandin-,' him dishes with a steniness which 
 had always awed him into eatin;^ anything she placed before 
 mm, and wondered what she would think when slie heard— 
 He trembled a little at the thought of breaking it to her ; 
 and then he remembered Miss Rutli's kind heart^and he had 
 a vision of a pension for Mary, which was checked. instantly 
 by the repollection of Miss Deborah's prudent economy. 
 
 " Ah, well," he thought, " I shall know to-night. Economy 
 is a good thing,— Miss Ruth herself would ii(^ deny that" 
 
 He went ont to his office, and weighed and balanced his 
 inclmations until dinner-time, and again in the afternoon, 
 but with no resuit. Xiglit found him hopelessly confused', 
 with the added grievance that lie had not kept his word *t() 
 himself. 
 
 This went on for jnore than a week ; by and by the uiicer- 
 tainty began to wear greatly upon him. 
 
 "Dear me !" he sighed one morning, as he sat in his office, 
 his httle gaitered feet upon the rusty top of his air-tif^ht 
 stove, and his brierwood pipe at his lips— it had gone out 
 leavmg a bowl of cheerless white ashes,— " dear me ! I nô 
 sooner depide that it had better be Miss Deborah— for how. 
 satisfyinf my linen would be if she had an eye on the laun- 
 dry, and I know she would not hâve bubble-and-squeak for 
 dmnér as often as Mary does— than Miss Ruth cornes iato 
 my mind. What taste she lias, and what an ear ! N^ ohe 
 notices the points in my singing as she does ; and how she 
 did turn that carpet in Gifford's room ; dear me !" 
 
 He sat clutching his extinguished pipe for many minutes, 
 when suddenly a gleam came into his lace, and the anxious 
 look began to disappear. \ 
 
 He rose» and laid his pipe upon the mantelpiece, first care- 
 fuUy knockbg the ashes into the vfrood-box which stood be- 
 side the stove. Then, standing with his left foot wrapped 
 about hisright an k le and his face fuU Ji£ auppressed eager-^ 
 ness, lie feÏÏ in each pocket of his waistcoat, and produced 
 first a knife, then a tape measure, a pincushion, a bunch of 
 keys, and last a larg^, wom copper cent. It was smooth with 
 âge, but its almost obliterated date still showed that it had 
 been struck the y ear of Mr.. Denner's birth. 
 
 
 ' F 
 
 1»s 
 
 M'^^^kr.', 
 
 •ifji 
 
92 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREAÇHER. 
 
 Next, he spread his pocket handkerchief smoothlv upon 
 the floor, and th^n, a little stiffly, knelt upon it. Kd'rubbed 
 the cent upon the cufï' of his coat to make it shine, and heW 
 it up a moment m the stream of wintry sunshioe that poured 
 through the office window and lay in a golden square on the 
 pare floor. ^ 
 
 ^^,#^'Heads,"said Mr. Denner,— "heads shall be Miss Debo- 
 rah ; taUs, Miss Euth. Oh, dear me !'I wonder which ?" 
 
 As he said this, he pitched the coin with a tremulôus hand 
 and then leaned forward, breathlessly vv^Uching it Ml waver 
 from side to side, and roll slowly under the bookcasé. Tôo 
 much excited to rise from his knees,. he crept towards it and 
 pressmg his cheek against the dusty floor, he peeied ùnder 
 the unwieldy pièce of furniture, to catch a olimpse of hi^ 
 penny and learn his fate. . 
 
 At such a critical moment it was not surprising that he did ^ 
 not hear Will^e Denner come into the office. The little boy 
 stood stiU, siuprised at his uncle's attitude. " Hâve vou lost 
 something, sir ?" he said, but without waiting for an answer 
 he fell on his knees and looked also. 
 
 "Oh, I see,— your lucky penny; l'II get it for you in a 
 minute. , ^ 
 
 And stretching dut flat upon his,gtoniach, he vv^Éfed al- 
 niost under the bookcasé, while Mr. Denner rose anHptiveh 
 bmshed the dust frcm his knees. ■ , ^^' 
 
 "Hère it is, uncle William," WiUie said, emevg% from the 
 shadow of the bookcasé ; " it was clear against the wall and 
 %iost down in a crack.'' . ' 
 
 Mr. Denner took the peuiiy from the diild, and rubbed it 
 nervously between his hands. 
 
 " I suppose," he inquired with great hésitation, " you did 
 not chance to observe, William, which— ah— which side wa^ 
 up ? ' 
 
 ■ "No, sir," answered Willie, with amazement written on his 
 little freckled face; "it hadn't fallen, ypu know, uncle • it - 
 was just leaning against the wall. I came in to l)riii<^ my 
 Latin exercise," he went on. " r ilimi baris- to geboolliQw^ ^ 
 
 sir.*' 
 
 He \yas oïï like a flash, saying to himself in a mystified 
 way, "I wonder if uncle William plays heads and tails aU 
 alone m the office ?" . . . ^ 
 
 , .^ Mr. D 
 
 ît, uncon 
 
 ; '"'That 
 
 soniethir 
 
 For A 
 
 doubtful 
 
 . way, eve 
 
 the rectc 
 
 Dr. H( 
 
 them, hii; 
 
 cold WÎIK 
 
 bit of ch 
 
 into his 
 
 what a p( 
 
 a few mil 
 
 " Bless 
 ness over 
 •stooped I 
 a blaze. 
 with his 
 sponsibili 
 
 " Ah, } 
 not occur 
 keep thei 
 is always 
 or — ah — 1 
 
 The À3( 
 tice, was ( 
 \scarlet. 
 looks afte 
 keeper, oi 
 ashes." 
 
 " No," 
 agrée witl 
 keeper. 
 woman li] 
 
 ^"-Tru G- 
 
 gloves. " 
 to live for 
 bowl '— ' t 
 
 t"*« 
 
JOH>^ WARD, PKEACJIEH. 
 
 93 
 
 ■/.^ Mr. Dernier st/ind l^oldi*»^the penny, ancî gazing blankly afe 
 
 it,_^uncon.scious/Df the dust^ipon his cheek. , \ \ 
 
 ^ /"'That did. nul décide jr,'- he niur^mrcd. "I umst "try 
 Honiething eke." • - f t 
 
 For Mr. Deimer liad $ome sinall superstitionsfand it is 
 doubtful if he would hâve (luestioned fate again in tlie sanie 
 . vvay, even if he liad ji^ been interrupted at that moment by 
 the rector, '-^ 
 
 Dr. ■•Howe came into the office beating his hands to warm 
 them, his face riiddy and Jiis breath short from a vvalk in the 
 cold wînd. He had corne to see çhe hivvyer about selling a 
 l)it of chm-ch land ^'^Ir. Denner hastily slipped his penny 
 into his pocket, and felt his face grow hot as he thought ia 
 vvliat a posture thê rector Avould hâve fouud liim hnd he côme 
 a few minutes sooner. 
 
 " Bless my soûl, Denner," Dr. Howe said, when, tlie busi- 
 ness over, he rose to go, " this den of yours is cold 1" He 
 stooped to shake the logs in the small stove, hoping to stqft 
 a blaze. -Tlie rector would bave resented any man's me.ldlinf>- 
 with hi^ fire, but ail Mr. Denner's friends lelt a soit'of re- 
 sponsibility for him, which ne accepted as a matter of course, 
 
 " Ah, yes," replied Mr. J:)enner, " it is chilly hère. It had 
 not occurred t<j me, but) it is'chilly. Some people mana<'e to 
 keep their houses very comfortable in weather like thisf It 
 is always warm at the rectory, I nêtice, and at Henry Dale's, 
 or— ah — the Misses Woodhouse's, — always warm." 
 
 The *ector, taking up a great deal of roum in the small of- 
 fice, was on' his knees, puffi^g at the tire uijtil his lace was 
 \scarlet. " Yes. I don't b^îi^ve that wQ^iiin^f yours half ' 
 looks after your comfort, Denner. Can't be a good house- 
 keeper, or she would not let this stove get so clioked with 
 ashes." , - 
 
 " No," Mr. Denner acknovvledged— " ah— I am inclined to 
 agrée with you, doctor. Not perhaps a^really good house- 
 keeper. But few women are, — very few. You do not find a 
 woman like Miss Deborah Woodhouse often, you know." 
 
 gloves. " That salad of hers, the other night, was something 
 to live for. What is that ?— ' plunge his tingers in the salad 
 bowl ' — ' tempt the dying^anchorite to eat,'-^I can't remerû- 
 
 n. 
 
 ri-m. 
 
 iS. r 
 
 ^£;dé^"A^.i-dkf\-'»«- *ïr'; ''^'/ -*:■ .''fi 
 
 
nr- 
 
 i' 
 
 ai - ' 
 
 - K ..■» 
 
 JOHN WAUD, PKEACHEK. 
 
 W the lir^s, but that îs/jiow I feel about Miss Deborah's 
 
 hands u2l^"^ laughéd in a quick, bree.y bass, beat hi« 
 nanas together, ^id was ready to start ^ / 
 
 "Yes,' said Mr. Denner, "just so,— quite so. But Miss 
 S^Skncl^wh'^^^ h"'""' "^ estiLble^^c^r oll 
 orMi^Kuth, WhiGh shouki you-ah-which do>ou mast 
 
 loo^d^^î?î'/"'"'^''^'^î^^""' ''^"^^^'" ^^« door4nob,and 
 lookedat the lawyer, witJi a sudden jrleam in his keen eves 
 
 OJi, yes, yes, just so," said Mr. Denner hurriedly « I 
 o.r^ mentjoned ,t because-it was^nerely in the nÏÏ'^eneraî 
 
 1 Sse I .h";;;iïn 'T'' ^^ 'yV^^'^~oh, not atSll-of 
 snnkP in f fi^ "^^v^'i- cliscuss a lady's woHh, as it were. I 
 spoke in confidence : I merely wondered what your oph ion 
 might be-not"-cried Mr. Denner, bursting int^ a cold dX 
 spiration of irigl.t to see liow far his embarfa^sment had^be" 
 tr.3;ed him-"nol that I really care to knowrVnotat 
 
 ^ • Pf.r^'"'' ^""^^^l^i« l'ead back, nnd his rollickin- lauoh 
 jaii-ed the very papers on Mr. Deimer's desk " ^ , 
 
 , It Ls just as well yoti don't, for I am sure I could not sav / 
 
 Mr. Denner coughed nervously. 
 ' «Sl\i^^ î-^î °^ '^^ slightest cuiiscpience," lie explained~ 
 ''ofcotS d'c ^^P^^-^houghtleU; âh-unXsTdt 
 Ut couibe, of course; I undei stand," criëd the rector and 
 forbore o add a good-naturcd .jest at M^. Denner's emWs 
 ment, winch was really painf ul emoarrass- 
 
 " ^^A^V-^ -'\}'^ *''''^^' ^^"PPJ"g liis thigh, " Denner '—Den 
 iierand Miss Deborah : Bless my soul.l^Oenner î" 
 
 -TK^ces of fiis own TorcSd themselves into his mind 
 
 Before he went to the lawver's offîpp h^ ï,o^ ï i . ,. 
 with M.. Dale, whieh U nT^u^tt ' len^leS 
 
 
 aujjij^^t'gi^i.-fef'- 
 
JOHN'.WÀRl), rUEACHKI 
 
 7 
 
 .95 
 
 !t^f yrJ-''^ '"^' ' '''''} '^°'" an*anxioft«.w(^nkIe shived 
 itsdf i ,.,ler<îiis tur cap,, hs lie walked back to Ihe rectc J . 
 
 He ha.l oone over to show Mr. -Dale a s/mewhat hlThlv 
 «easoned 8ketch in " Bell's Life;' in tl.e ^.idst of theîi'eu^ 
 joyinent ot it, they were interrupted by Mré Dale • 
 
 ;' I want to speak t(. you about Lois, brkher. Ach | hovv 
 this room ««lells of shioke !" she said. / f 
 
 Il Why, what bas the child done now ?'/said Dr. Howl 
 Yoii needii't say, • Whàt bas sbe doné now ?' as tlioLh I 
 was always findin^ fault," Mrs. Dale an,/wered, " thouah^ do 
 Sa" '""^ ''^"" ^"^{ '^ ^ ''' jy ««« «nakin^l nZ 
 
 "Adèle " remaiked tbe rector, with I frankness wbidb was 
 entirely tliat of a brother, and bad no tearing npon bis li^ 
 ymi are alv^ys ready enongb witb tli^t duty of faulfc-find: 
 < W] IV "" ,^^"J'^'' achniringly at liis brother-iÇi-law 
 
 tM^so^Henryl''"^ ''''' too n.uch neglected. Don^ you 
 But Mrs. Dale answered instea<l : ''1 am ready enoidi to 
 praise wben there is occasion for it, but you can't expéct me^ 
 to praise Lois for lier behjnior to young Forsytbe. Aribell-v 
 ""Ti, X r"*^ y''''^^' '^ completely prostrated bv tbe blofy " : 
 Bah: murmured Mr. Dale uiider bis breatli ; but' Dr 
 Howe said impatiently,— ' . 
 
 " What do you mean ? What blow ?" " ' 
 
 els'e ?^'^"^' ^'""'^ ^'''^ '''^''^^'^ ^"" '" ^'''^'' ^^^'^- ^'^^''- " ^hat 
 
 " I didn't know slie bad refuseil liini," tbe rector answered 
 slowly. " Well tbe child i^s tbe best jidge, after ,V" 
 
 I am glad o it," said Mr. Dale,-" I am glad of it. He 
 was no husband for little Ix,is.-no, my dear, pray let me 
 
 ^^^h'^T^'TrV''^'\ ^ h-vehadsomJcon4rsatSn 
 with h m. and I played eucbre with bim once. He played 
 too well tor a gentleman, Arcbibald." ^ ^ 
 
 " He beat you, did he ?" said the rector. 
 
 •f 
 
 
 
 n 
 
 / 
 
 ' A 
 
 
 
 
 V.4 
 
 ^^M 
 
 
 
 „ That iifîri nothing to ctô^wîtir it F crf5cT Mr Dale "^ 
 should W said the same thing had I been bis 'partner '- 
 oi- J"'Sî.L.^^'«-^ale interrupted, "as though it made^he 
 slightest différence how a man played a siUy game ! Don't be 
 
 
 ^^^MMik-^' 
 
 
M( 
 
 96 
 
 JOHK WAUD> PREACHER. 
 
 foolish, Heni-y. Lois has made a great nîistake, but I suppose 
 there is nothing to be <lone, uulefis yoimg J^rsythe. Ed 
 try^a^am. I hope he.^ill, and Ijjpe she wî^tve Zre 
 
 The rector was silent. Me could not deny that lie was 
 disappointe;] and as he went ^tow^s the V^offi^ T2 
 almost wished he had oliered a Word of adyjce to I^^is " St 11 
 a giri needs her mother f(^:>h.at âort of thing, an/after al 
 perhaps it ,s hest. For really, I slioiild be very duU a the 
 rectorv without her." Thus he condorted himilf or what 
 was only a d.sappôiiitment to his vanity, and was qui?e 
 cheerful whea hé opened Helen's letter ^ 
 
 The post-office was in that part of the «hn.o-.store where 
 the herbs were kept, and the letters always had a faint s mell 
 of peniiyroyal «r wornnvood about thein/The recto îead h" 
 letter. eaning agamst, the cdunter, and crum,)lin- some bav 
 eavesbetweenhishngc-rs; and though he l."s"iuterrupted 
 haU a dozen tunes by people coming for their mâil^S S 
 pmg to gomv about tl,e ^veather or the church he oaiiS « 
 very unonifoitable sensé „f its contents ^ 
 
 fl.r rT f ^^"■' "^^'' '''^'''''^ ^^'^■«^'" ^'^ MTumble(!,as he folded 
 the last sheet, covered with the clear heavy Writinran 
 struck it inipatiently across his hand before he thrust "tdow 
 into lus pocket. " What in the worhtis Jolin Waixl thùiM^i 
 of to let her botber herhead with such questions?" ^ 
 
 I am surprised," Helen wrote, " to see how narrowness 
 and intolérance seem to belong to intense belief. ^ibmlôf Thèse 
 elders in John's clmrch, especially a maiM-alled D^n (tl e 
 fatherof iny Alfaretta), believe in their horrible doctrines 
 wiUi an their l-arts^ and their.bsolute eonvic/Klnina^^E 
 blind to any possibd.ty of good in anv creed which does not 
 a^ee witlrtheirs Apparently, they thkik thev hâve reached 
 the nltiraate trnth, and never even look for new li.^ht Tha 
 is the-strangest thmg to me. Now, for «,v part, I would no 
 sign a creed to-day which I had written myself because one 
 hves progressively in religion as in e«erythi^ng eie B^^^^^^ 
 ail as I said to Giffbrd the other day, the /arm of bdiens^f 
 
 tion ofGod m one'sown soûl iit would be enough to hâve 
 that. I should thmfe. But.to s(«ie of us God is only ano^her 
 
 I ■♦ 
 
 s^*.<fi^ji.îr, iJsf y 
 
'JOHN WARD, PKEACHEB. 
 
 »7 
 
 w hTl at ir "S'm '''^u«f ?'''^"-'^'' «tondit S 
 
 thinkthemselveaskepticalù „:;..,?;:?■' '"'"'="'■ ""' 
 
 t,tJîi , ^ • .^' y*' ^"'''' questions were only a sort of 
 intellectual exercise, ; the time I.ad not corne when thev shoiatr 
 be mtensely real an,i she shouW seek for an answer with af 
 the force ofherhfe, and know the an^uish of desnair whioh 
 
 if.LTî ""'"f «n""gh importance to talk of to John even 
 if shehad not known they would trouble him; she and G,T 
 
 mTd'forthelte '" ""^' ™?'? ''""^'""^ ""^ '"-™"!"'= "» " 
 
 But the letter brought a cloud on Dr Howe's fonp • h« 
 wantea to forget it. he" was impatient to shake off thp'nn 
 pleasantremembraneeit roused, and so'^nSd Was L ^- 
 this that hy the time he had reacbed the rec^to?^ Mr DennS 
 and his perplexities were quite ont of his mind thou^h thl 
 lawyer^ face wasstiU tingling with mortification. ^ ' 
 Mr. Denner could not keep his thoughts from his duzHp 
 
 cSn He?^'' r.t '' rr '^'^" ^'^"^^"^°^ to reach' n: 
 
 precSn fndT if "-'^ "'^."^^ ^^'^ "^^^^ ^^an nsual 
 
 précision, and ate it in anxious abstraction. The room was 
 
 chilly; draughts from the narrow Windows made the lamn 
 
 flare, and the wmd from under the closed door raised the c?r^- 
 
 w'î.'''^"'.^ -^^J^' ^""^- ^' di^l ^^^ notice Wmie who 
 kept his han48 m his pockets for warmth, and also becausrhe 
 had nothing for them to do. >- «cause ne 
 
 _J^lIr. Jiemier rang for Maryr^he bo^^t d with anxt " 
 ouspoliteness «'Was-was the mutton g^r r 
 ^ Wilhe had been weU brought up,-he was not to speak un 
 less spoken to ; but under thepressof hunger natureSellëd; 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 .' y, 
 
 
 
 ' -^zm 
 
 *3»r> 
 
 /:il 
 
 
 à' 
 
 
 ^^i^^z^L j^^iii -. î ^^>u *- j'^ -^t fcU.^ . '- 
 
08 
 
 JOHN- WAkD, PREACHER. 
 
 h: 
 
 unnhir'^'' '" ^"' absoi^^tion! had forgotten to help hini to 
 
 ^ ^''- fe»f r carvea soine toeat for tlil' chikl. and then sat 
 ami waUed h,m with such gloomy eyes. tharWillfe was 
 glad to fimsh and push his chair back forprayers 
 
 or Yir Hônnei, and Jay s "Morning and Evenina Exercises" 
 
 "rrittTter'? ■ . ''^^ '^''^' '^ massive^ci^KSrks 
 on eithe ^ de ot his book gave an unstôady li^ht and when 
 
 they flicke^l t uew strange sJiadows on the œilTn^ The 
 
 rames whiAh held the paintnigs of Mr. Benne '^nmrDaJn ! 
 
 loomed upïrk and;forbiddmV and Ma'rwhS; ^ 
 
 with her arn\s rolled in her apron and her head bo^^^7«p?n 
 
 and Zi^t 1 K : "^"^^? '^ ^-^"«^^«^"^ «hadow, M'hic^ danced 
 and bobbed about on tlie door of the pantry. Marv .^eneralîy 
 
 ou8,rtieaa. Ihe room wus so dark, and his uncle's voIpp =^ 
 strange and-rolling, the little fellow feared to kneel dowzTand 
 turn &,s ^k to the long table with its ghastly whi fc oth 
 lis ifnagmation pictured fearful thing? steaL^ p' * him 
 from the mysterious face beneath it, and his heart he-l\oZ 
 
 o hTs od- fSv ''''^''' '^^^^"««Prayer was the expiiession 
 observance Z^rf "'^''' ''^^T^'^y ^ ^ignified and proper 
 f];«n h! 1 r^ ^^""^'' "^""^^^ "«^ hâve oniitted it anv more 
 than he would hâve neglected Sunday moraine, service bnt 
 he was scarcely more aware of the words than W 11 rSilar' 
 ^uj'''''''^''''''-^-^'^^^^ Mr. Denner so^ueL 
 
 Perhaps the cases he had never pleaded, the dramatir fnm^ 
 which he secretly longed to exert^. expended thSves ht 
 the sonorous ehapter^ of Isaiah or in the wa^il ofJereriah 
 Indeed the th^ught^ad more than once occuied to M-' 
 Denner that the rector, who read the services wi'heh^^^^^^^ 
 h^ste might-improve in his own delivery, coulHe iLten to 
 eSentr"""^"'^^ -hich Mary and liSle WiU^^af e"^ 
 
 the room ; Willie counted the number of panes of glis Si /' 
 
 M 
 
 » ffS.!. 
 
 ■-îv. 
 
*=^. 
 
 JOHN WAim; PKEACHEK. 
 
 • 
 
 99 
 
 wmdow opposite hun. and woiidm-e,I what ho shokld .1,, ff 
 suddenly a white face should Deer in at hini o ut o flo^î! i 
 nes8;Mr. Dernier had readfied tlie voTt If il V ''" 
 ^ould fi.t n^et Jephtha.-when l^thl^'h n/eîS 
 his eyebrow.s drawn togetlier. and his wholé^attiU de eSs ' 
 mg the anx.ety ànd fear. of the conqueror, hraZZ 
 abruptly. Hère was an inspiration 1 ^ stopped 
 
 Majy weke with a start. " Is it a stroke ?" she exclaim..! 
 But Willie, with one frightened looj,- at the wi dovv on h 
 long table, slipped from his chair tc> kneel 'thiT/k t^^fe ' el f 
 mg was over. The Sound of his little conner //.p t. l 
 the floor aroused Mr. Denner he frnwn: . ^^^^^^P'^» 
 
 way to do it,— tlie onè I see Hrst •" Ami W iiT ^ • ' 
 
 .. bed with a <x,.iet -ind. and the pt' whichtn:;;:?,": 
 décision of a momentdus question. loiiows tlie 
 
 ■.(■•;» ■ ■ ; ■; 
 
 / 
 
 CHAPTEfî XI. 
 
 The cold that winter was mor^sistent aiid severe in thp 
 Jnountiiins than down in Ashurst* ' W '^ 
 
 At LockKaven the river had been frozen over for a mont F. 
 evenabove the bridge and the mills, where thrcirrent wt^ 
 swiftest. Long Imes of sawdust, which had been coiîinc Ind 
 whirling m the eddies. or stretching across the wLk Sn^ 
 water, were caught in the. g^, Sr blown ' abourwTh Se 
 powdered snow over Its surface: ^J^\ 
 
 Rafts could not corne down the river «o thp m;iio u i 
 
 snap had been aawed into longi-ough planka, an7pUed iu thp 
 hmber-yard readylto be rafted <£ L^ ^ the thaw ,^me 
 The cold, still air, waS sweet with the fragrance ofChp^'e 
 
 ' îu '^^' 
 
 '-^^È 
 
 
 l 
 
 1..'! .f» 
 
 
 rfxmw^ljtyi 
 
 n^^-é ■^&^w*iW-v*v 
 
 1i».> 
 
 V. •""*-»%i>^ 
 
H 
 
 100' 
 
 ^, JOHN WARD, PRÊACHEK. - 
 
 
 
 'il { 
 
 m I 
 
 
 boaî.*ds, and th^j:ji;()un(l al >out the mills waa covijred With sunH' 
 (lust, so that footsteps fcîll as silejit- aa Éhougli 6n velvet^ 
 instead of ringiny shaip against the Irozen gr^iind. v 
 
 John Ward, walking wearily home from a »long visit to a 
 
 ; sick waraan, came, as he crossed the hinibei-yard, upon a 
 
 . j^Toup of raftsmen ; they. had not heatd ïtis approach, wid 
 
 -wcre taDcing loudly, wit h fréquent burst^ofdrbnkçn laughter. 
 
 It w^ towards evening ; the ^y had been threatening ail 
 
 - da,y, and wlien tiie clouds lifted suddeidy in the- west, blown 
 '^ aside like tïffiiultuous folds of a gra^ curtain, the reifl sun sent 
 
 a; Hood of color acruss the wintiy landscape; tfie bare branches 
 of the trees were tieuQlied vvith light, and the pools oj^lack,, 
 cleâfice gleanie^l with frosty fire. John's face had caught the 
 . radiance. | - ' , 
 
 He had^(|ôni8 up to the"^en so sHently that hç Had been 
 standing beàide theni a moment before they noticed him, and 
 theu Tom Itevis, with a start .of drunken fear.Jtried to hidg 
 the bottle wMch he held., ' 
 
 •' Damn ybu, mate, you'ie spillin' it !" cried one of the 
 others, makinW ar| unsteady lunge forward to seize the bottle. 
 
 "Let up, M up," said Tom thickly. " Don't ye see the 
 
 - preacher ?" Though Davis was not one of bis flock, he had 
 the same réveience for the preacher which bis congrégation 
 felt. AH Lockîmven loved and feared John Ward. 
 , John :haçl nbt spok«n,,even though a little boy, buîKlj 
 bloçk houses où a héap of sawdust near the man, had comt ' 
 and taken his hand with a look of confident aèjâction." 
 
 The matt^hàobad saved the whiskéy stùmbled to his feet, 
 and leaning^gfiinst a pile of luriiber stood open-moutl^ed, 
 waiting for the ^reacher's rebuke^- but Davis hung his head, 
 and- began to fumble for a pipe in his sagging coat pocket ; 
 with clurasy fîngepe, scatterihg.the tobacco-from his little bag, 
 he tried to fill it. 
 
 " Tom," the preacher said, at last, " I ^ant you to corne 
 ' home with me. now. And Jim, you will give me that bottle " 
 
 "I can't go liome preacher. l've gotto buy some things 
 for the br g b ts." 
 
 "Hâve yon'boughtlhem?'' John asked. Tom gave a silly 
 
 •a. 
 
 laugh. 
 - « 
 
 Not yet, preacher, not yet." 
 
 "Listen; 
 hâve -let th 
 nicrab'eri,!) 
 
 Tom Da^ 
 Hiaudlin cP 
 ani a-goin 
 in his deba 
 niove Tom 
 Ibriety. " 1 
 and fortl^ t 
 iigairrst wl 
 prc^acher. 
 
 Hère he 
 liimself ius 
 
 The^ othe 
 bottle, and 
 passages be 
 
 The boy 
 (hist in th' 
 niore cheer 
 
 John left 
 there wa»^, 
 unpleasant 
 ened by tht 
 his numb, 1 
 
 John we 
 iixed abseii 
 said, " pooï 
 less to the 
 Davis's rey 
 
 John sig] 
 his silence; 
 hiding his s 
 • "It is r 
 " bnt I dare 
 
 More tha 
 
 J he tr nth^a] 
 
 of reprobati 
 
 alvjkys firn^ 
 
 4*: 
 
 ■#A fyii'i'^j.!^\^'^Vfi^^'^^ 
 
 M 
 
.JOHN WA«D, PBEjU3HÊil 
 
 loi 
 
 "LiHteii,*ii)eii,",Johii sftid, with sudden steiliness. "You. 
 have-let this ohild secryou oiuthe road to hell. If he/can re- 
 iiiemberythis ,si;rht, it will saye his soûl." .. ' 
 
 Tom tfixvïs shrank as the preacher said. " hell." He gave a 
 HjaudliiMîf^'., aiul a.linost wjiimperéd, ." Nw sir, no, proachêr, I 
 anfa-jifoin' to reforirirj «John had.known what note t€i touch. 
 in his debased nature? Not Iqve, nor hope, noV shame,.woul(l 
 mme ïoni JJavis,. hut'fear stung hiin into a'seniblance of sq- 
 brietv. " ril eonie^along wi' yqtu/' he went on, swaying back 
 an(Uortly, auibsteaiJfing hiniself j^lm hand on J;he lufnber 
 îigaiirst winch he had j^een lefumig. > '" This is the last tiiue, 
 jireacher. You won'tse'è nie this wày ho mon;." 
 
 Hère he hiccouglieil, aïKl then laughed, but remenibering 
 himself instant^y, drew his forchead into a scowl. 
 
 ThQ other niLMi slunk away, for the niini^ter had taken the 
 bottle, and Tom r)a\is vvas folloVing liini tlirough the narrow 
 passages between, the great piles of boArds, towards his house. 
 
 The boy had go ne back to his block house ; tUe pile of saw- 
 dust in the sheltered corner wasfmore comfortable and rU»t 
 niore cheerless, than his ow n Home. ^ 
 
 John left Davis at his'door. TUe man^looked cowed, but 
 there was^no shame in his face, 'and no sensé of.sin. It wa.s^ 
 unpleasant to be caught^by the prea^ier^ and he was fright- 
 ened by that awful wprd,'\fhich it was the constant -^eflbrt of 
 his numb, helpless braiji t(* forge t. ,.«^ ' 
 
 John went on aWe. He walked «lowly, with hijs eyes 
 fixed absently on the' ground, thinking. )f" Poor Davïs," he' 
 said, "poor fellow !" The man's future -seemed (^ùite hope- 
 less to the preacher, and, thinking of it, he recalled Mrs. 
 Davis's regret that he had not spoken of hell in his sermon. 
 
 John sighed. His grief at Helen's unbelief was growing iij, 
 his silence ; yet he realized the ijiconsistency of-his love in 
 hiding lus sorrow from her. ' ^' 
 
 • " It is robbihg her, not to . let- her share it," he thought, 
 " but I dare not speak to her yet." 
 
 More than once d^ring the winter he had tried to show her 
 t h e ^ut h aad the b^aufcy^ of vastou » dceferifi^s, i^enerfelly 
 
 of réprobation, /but ehe had alvvays evaded di«»uSsi«n ; some 
 t^me? Ug^tly, for fit seemed siich a small matter to her, but 
 àl\^ys firnî.l3< 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
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 - 'IM 
 
 
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 102 
 
 JOHN WARD, FliEAClIEr}. 
 
 The preacher loitered, stopping to look at the river and tlio 
 gaunt hue of mills against the sky. Ho left the patli, -and 
 went down to the edge df tlie white ice, so full of air hubbles 
 it seeined like solid snovv, and listened to the '^iirf'le of tlié 
 hnrrying water underneath. ^ "" 
 
 A shed was built close to tlie .streani, to shelter a hand fire- 
 engme. It liad not been iised for so long that the row of 
 ^ buckets besu.e it, which were for djpping up water to till it 
 were warped and cracked, their iron bands rusty, and out of 
 one or two the bottom had fallen. The door of the shed 
 -creaked on its one hingeS, and John looked irp surprised to see 
 how dark it had grown, then lie turned towards home. 
 
 \es," he said to himself, " I miist show her her danger 
 It will grieve her to force an argument upon her, and I don't 
 think she has had one unliappy hour snice we were married • 
 but even if it were not for her own soul's sake, I must not let 
 niy people starve for the bread of life, to spare her. I must 
 not be silent concerning the danger of the sinner. But it will 
 trouble her,— it will trouble her.'' 
 
 John had dallied with temptation so lon^ that it had 
 grown bold, and did not always hide under tlie plea of wis- 
 dom, but openly dared him to ihflict the pain of grievincr his 
 wife upon himself. He still delayed.yet there were moments 
 when he knew himself a cowaid, and had to summon every 
 argument of the past to his défense. But before he reached 
 the parsoiiage door he had lapsed into such tender thoughts 
 ot Helen that lie said again, "Not quite yet ; it seema to an- 
 noy her so to argue upon such things. I must leave it 'until . 
 l win her to truth by the force of its own constraining beauty. ^] 
 Little by httle I 4ûl draw her attention to it. And I must 
 gradually make niy sermons more emphatic." 
 ^^ Helen met him at the door, and drew him into the house 
 You are so late," she said, pressing his chUl fingers against 
 her warin cheek, and chafing them between her hands 
 
 He stopped to kiss lier before he took his coat off, smUinc 
 at her happiness and his own. ^ 
 
 -,> 
 
 Bxr^^w and cold It isT' she said. ^"JTomelEi^'the' 
 8tudy ; I have.a beautiful fire for you, Is it going to snow, 
 do you thmk ? How is your sick woman ?" , 
 
 "Bettef/' he answered, as he foUowed her into the room 
 
 .tik 
 
 ■ V.V.WiSWl"«'«*>*^ 
 
 
 flitii^»ukJ,.iiû»àt= 
 
■ï-- 
 
 JOHN WARD, 'PREACHEK.»* 
 
 103. 
 
 " Oh, Helen, it is good to be at home. I hâve not seen yoii 
 since noon." , . . 
 
 She lauglied, and theii insisted thatjie should sjt still, aiul 
 let her bring his siippèr into the study, and eat it there by 
 the fire. He watched her with a delicious luxury of rest and 
 content ; for lie was very tired and very happy, 
 
 She put a littlf table beside him, covered with a large nap- 
 kin; and then.she brought a loaf of brown bread and some 
 honey, with a^iïiould of yellow butter, and last ^little covered 
 dish of chicken. , - * , 
 
 "I broiled that fer you myself," she explained proudly ; 
 "and I did not niean to. give you à^ee, but what do you' 
 thmk ?— the whole canister of tea hiPlisappeared. Whon 
 Alfaretta went to get it for m'y supper, it had gone." 
 
 "Oh," John.said, smiling, while Hclen began to pour some 
 cream into his coftee froni a flat little silver jug, " I forgot to 
 mention it : the fact is, I took that tea with me this'after- 
 noon,-^I thought probably they had noue in the house ; and 
 I wish you could hâve seen the woman's joy at the sight of it. 
 I cooked somë for her,— she told me how," he said deprecat- 
 mgly for Helen laughed ; "and she said it was very '«T„od 
 t«o," lie added. ^ o » 
 
 But Helen refused to believe that possible. " It was po- 
 liteness,.John," she cried gayly, "and because, I suppose, you 
 presented lier with my lacquered canister." 
 ^ "I did leave it," John adinitted.; " I never thought of it." 
 liut he forgot eveii to ask forgiveness, as she bent towaràs 
 him, restiug her hand on his shoulder while she put his eup 
 beside him. 
 
 " The fire -lias «ushed your cheek," he said, touching it 
 softly, the lover's.awe shining in his eyes; with John it had 
 never been lost in the assured possession of the husbàud. 
 Helen looked at him, smiling a little, but she did not speak. 
 Silence with lier told sometimes more than words. 
 
 " It has been such a long afternoon," he said. " I was <^'lati 
 j!L^:"J^X¥HeiperhH ) 8^t is th e. reaso n i forgo t the caii 
 
 i 
 
 
 in 
 
 ister. 
 
 " Shall I send you back for it ?" She put her lips for a mo- 
 ment against lus hand, and then, glanoing out at the night for 
 sheer joy at the warmth and light within, she added •* Why 
 what is that glow, John ? It Ipoks like fire." 
 
 
 If^J 
 
 ft'p- 
 
 .tin 
 
 if) 
 
104 
 
 JOHN WARD, PIIEACHER. 
 
 I "' ' 
 
 ij 
 
 ' He tuined, and tlieii pushed back Iiis chair and went to the 
 Avmdow. 
 
 -.„ " It does look like tire," he said anxiously. 
 
 Helen had followed him, and they watched together a 
 strange hght, nsmg and falling, and then brighteniiig a^ain 
 •ail along the sky. Evén as they looked tlie upper heavens be- 
 gan to pulsate and tlirob vvith faint criméon. 
 
 "Itisfîre!" John exclaimed. " Let me get niv coat I 
 must go." . ' 
 
 " Oh, not now," Helen said. " You must linish your sup- 
 per ; and you are so tired, John !" 
 
 But he was already at the door and reaching for his hat 
 " Jt must be the lumber-yards, and the river is frozen " 
 •' Wait !" Helen cried. " Let me get my cloak. I wiU .^o 
 1 l^^i l' ' '^"*^ ^ moment later the parsonage door bancred 
 behind them, and they hurried out into the darkness * 
 
 Ihe Street which led to the lumber-yards had been silent 
 and deserted when John passed through it half an hour be- 
 fore, but now ail Lockhaven seeraed to throng it. 
 
 The preacher and his wife could hear the snappin^r and 
 cracklmgof liâmes evenbefore they turned the last borner 
 and saw the blaze, vvhich, sweeping up into the cold air be- 
 gan to nmtter before it broke with asavage roar. They caught 
 sight ot Gifford's broad shoulders in the crowdf Which stood 
 lascniated and appalled, watching the destruction of what tô 
 most of them meant work and wages. ^ 
 
 "Oh Giff I" Helen said when they reached his side, " why 
 don t they do something? Hâve they tried to put it out ?" 
 
 /' It s no use to try now," Gifford answered. " They dida't 
 discover it m time. It has made such headway, that the only 
 tlung to d^i^s to see that it burns out, withoat setting fire to 
 any of the houses. Fortunately the wind is towards the 
 river.' 
 
 ^ John shook his head ; he was too breathless to speak for a 
 moment ; then he said, " Something must be done " 
 
 "There is no use, Mr. Ward," Gifford explained. But John 
 ^carcely^heard him î his people'r cômfôft, thèir moràlîtylT 
 most,— for poverty meant deeper sin to most of them,— was 
 burnmg up m those great square piles of planks. 
 
 "Men," he shouted, 
 JtunI mùl" 
 
 meo, the engine! To the river 
 
 
 
 J^A^^IlW;-^ M^'ik.i. 
 
It^lr 
 
 ■^ 
 
 -n- 
 
 JOHN WAUD, preachp:};. 
 
 lo;: 
 
 " Nothing can be doue," Gifford said, as tlie crowd broke» 
 followmg the preacher, who was far aliçad .of ail ; but he too 
 started, as though to join them, and then checked himself, 
 and went back into the deserted street, vvalking up and down, 
 a self-constituted patrol. 
 
 Almost every man liad gone to the river. Tom Davis, how- 
 ever, with Molly beside him, stood lolling against a tree, so- 
 bered^indeed, by the shock of the fire/but scarcely steady 
 enough on his legs to run. Another, who was a cripple, sway- 
 mg to and fro on his crutches with excitement, broke into a 
 storm of oaths because his companion did not do the work fcTr 
 which he was himself too helpless. But Toni only gazed with/ 
 bleared eyes at the fire, and tried to stand up straight. 
 
 The little crowd of women about Helen had been silenced 
 at fîrst by the tumult and glare, but now broke into wild lam- 
 entations, and entreaties that Heaven wOuld send the engine 
 soon, wringing their hands, and sobbing, and frightening^the 
 children that clung about their skirts even more than the fire 
 itself. 
 
 " How did it start ?" Helen said, tuming to the woman 
 next to her, who, shivering with excitement,' held a baby in 
 her arnis, who gazed at the fire with wide, tranquil eyes, as 
 though it had been gotten up for his entertainment. 
 
 ^;' They sa}'," answered the woman, tossing her head in the- 
 direction of Tom Davis,— "they say him and some other fel- 
 lows was in 'mong the lumber this afternoon, drinkin', you 
 know, and smokin'. Most likely a match dropped, or 'ashes 
 from their pipes. Drunken men am't roasonable about them 
 things," she added, with the siraplicity ol" expérience. "They 
 don't stop to thiuk they're burnin' up money, an' whiskey 
 too; for Dobbs don't trust 'em, now the mill is shut dowu." 
 
 "Yes," said another woman who stood by, "them men i' 
 what do they care ? You," she shouted, shaking her fist at ' 
 Tona,— "you'll starve us ail, will ye ? an* vour poor wife, just 
 up from her sick bed ! I do' know as she'll be much wprse 
 ^ff. though, whe iiiiftig^ ontofwork;^ ^sb&added^,- turning^^t^^ 
 
 loon. 
 
 ^n— " for every blessed copper he he has goes to the sa- 
 
 " Yer man's as bad as me," Jom protested, stun<» by her 
 tailnts and the jeers of the cripph 
 
 *!■ 
 
 
 ■l 
 
 T^*^' 
 
 « 
 
 
 ,.„,, /..l 
 
m 
 
 ■*!^ 
 
 106 
 
 .fOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 An I hedoes take a rlrop sometimes, it wasn't bim as was 
 
 an biirnin up the footl and comfort o' the»whole town i»' 
 lonihurledatotrentof profanitv at the' woman and th^ 
 
 î,,f ^^°!f^'' ^^^'^ the fîre was approaching the side of thV'vard 
 
 wl^re thej stood, and beatiïg them%ack into ïhe viUag!^ 
 
 The air was hlled with the appaHing roar and s'cream of 
 
 the fiâmes; showers of sparks were flu.îg up u^ra nst the bhck 
 
 ^<y, as with a tremendous crash the insfde of one of theS 
 
 woukl c-ollapse ; and still the engine did not corne. ^'^'' 
 
 I vn,- ^} '''""^ • ^^^ '^^^"e'^ sJ^o»ted witli hoarse terrified 
 
 / rth:'rive,""' "" '^ "" "^«^^ ^^ '^^ ^^"^ -^ looked dotn 
 
 Pn3n^ r" ^f \Î^Y''^i"g ; but as they drew the long-unused 
 engine from its shed. an axle broke, and with stiff fin^rs Xv 
 trîed to mend it. Some had had tô run for àxe,s to b^eak the 
 ice, and then they pushed and jostled each otïer abou^te 
 
 Zln À , ^}^ ^^^ "^^'^^ ^'*® s^T behind them arew -i 
 it L''.?'ir'^ the very i.e glared with the leaping Ce 
 the .wr '^'?K^"^ P"?^"- they brought the little angine up 
 the slope, and then with a great shout dra^oed it iiito H^ 
 ^tskirts of the yard. The/pumped furiousfv and a sma 
 jet of water was played upon the nearest pile" of boards A 
 hissing cloud of steam almost hid the volunteer fi men hÙ 
 the flames^leaped and tossed against the sky, and the sparks 
 
 oii'^'^^il^^'','^ ^'^'"^ breathlessiy towards his wife. « Are vou 
 
 the hnbv ,-n K • ""^^T^y ^^^'""^ ^^^ ^^^^^» beside her witli 
 the baby m her amis, he stopped. and looked about " Whrre^ 
 your boy, Mrs, devins?" he said. The woman glanced^ound 
 
 " TT~^'"^ ï^ot just sure, preacher." 
 
 Z 5^^^ y^^^ ^^^" bim since six o'clock ?" 
 
 - No_I_I ain't," the woman answered. There was some- 
 
 ■ »■"«•■ "TfWr" 
 
 
m 
 
 ■ i' 
 
 JOHN WAKD, PREACHEH. 
 
 lor 
 
 ïfe whicli terrified .lier, tliougli the mère ab- 
 
 thing in Joh, 
 
 sence yf hef son gave lier no uneasiness. 
 
 "Goback, Helen," he said, (luickly,— «go m far as tliat 
 second hoiise, or I shall not feel sure you are safe Mrs 
 devins we must look for Charley. I am afraid-he was ia 
 the lumber-yard this afternoon" — 
 
 John did not wait to hear the woinan's shriek • he tumed 
 andran frorft group to group, looking for the bov whom he 
 had seen building block houses on the pile of savvdust • but 
 the mother, p'ushing lier baby into a neighbor's amis, ran up. 
 îind down like a mad woman. - 
 
 "My boy !" she cried ; "Charley! Charjey ! He's in the^ 
 nre,-riiiy boy's in the fire !" 
 
 ïom Davis had heard the hurried words of the preacher 
 aiid the mother's cries roused ail the manhood drinkhad left 
 He.hesitafted a moment, and then pushing Molly towards the- 
 cripple wlîose tauntsstill lung in liis ears "Take care of the 
 brat !" he said, and pulling off his coat, which he wrapped 
 about his head to guard himself froni the Mailing boards he 
 stooped ahnost double, and with his left arml5'ent before' his 
 tace and his right extehded to feel his *vay, he ran towards 
 the fire, and disappeared in the blinding smoke; 
 
 Even Mrs, Nevms was silent for a moment of shudderin<^ 
 suspense; and vvhen she tossed her arms into the air af^aii? 
 and shneked, it >vas beciuise John Wârd came towards ter 
 with Charley trotting at his side.. 
 
 " You should hâve looked after the child," the preacher 
 said sternly. " ï found hini on the other side of the vard 
 near the fire-engine." " ' 
 
 Mrs. Nevins canght the boy in her arnis in a paroxysm of 
 rage and joy; and then sho thought of Tom 
 
 " ^l}> preacher," she cried, " preacher ! he's run in after him 
 lom Davis has !" 
 
 " Then 
 him !" 
 
 Tha;e was no humaii lielj) p ossihlp 
 
 John said, pointing to the fire. '! God lielj^ 
 
 Ta«t liad tun^4ôwtt^ 
 
 ÎJefweeh two long Inîe^ of l)o^rds, not yet in fiâmes, but 
 alreadya sheet of fire swept madly across the open space. 
 Ihey could only look at each other. dumb with tlieir own 
 nelplessness, and wait. How Ions this horror of ex- 
 
 long 
 
 1 . 
 
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 f .*. 
 
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•'/' 
 
 M^: 
 
 108 
 
 JOHN AVARD, PIJEACHER. 
 
 >i. 
 
 
 mouth ot Jiell Tom Davis came, staggeriim aud swaVincr ~hf. 
 ■ed'IÎMTo^t' """' "'""""^ '-âS, and w'S'^tt'h! 
 
 ine meii who liad brou^'ht the eugine fbll.)we<l foi- theirfiffnru 
 to subdue the (ire was perteetly futile. ' 
 
 ' side hn "Min™ "^r" °" "?" ^'"^ ''•°^«" Srass by the road- 
 
 A few light flakes of snow were beginniri'^ to fall in th«f =f m 
 ^ncertam way which heralds a stom ; someruchèd the de^' 
 
 -Uelen. who haA nnnt^ A,^<-1 l--_i . . 
 
 Mj&htlott r'-^""r' ^'^ '""> *e Street that 
 J)avr8whe,^sheU°"^ °""'*'"' '""' ^^^'-^i "'«"Mrs 
 
 -•i-\- 
 
 , V.rf* 
 
r-Jll. 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 109 
 
 Gifford is hère to go with you ?" John asked, with that 
 «quick tenderness which never left hira. Then hé turned 
 away to help m caiTying the,dead mau to his h'ome. 
 ,, -ihe silent procession, with its aïvfuî: burden, went back 
 through the streets. lighted yet by the pulsing glarè of the 
 hre. John walked beside the still Hgure with his head bent 
 upon his breast. That first impulse ofl^innan exultation in 
 a brave deed was gque ; there was a hôrrorSf pity itistead. 
 Just before they reached Tom's hou.^e, he stopped, by a 
 gesture, the man who bore the body. . ^^ ^ 
 
 " Oh» my people," he said, his hands siretched ont to therfi 
 . the snow falling softly on his bare head, " (îod speaks tS you 
 trom the lips of this dead-man. Listen to his words : the day 
 or the hour knoweth no man ; and are you ready to>fece^the 
 judgment-seat of Christ? Oh, be not deceiyed, be. ■ not 
 deeeiyed ! Whatsoever a man soweth, that sjiall he also 
 reap. f 
 
 _ It was long past midnight when the knot.of mJn about Tom 
 JL>aviss door dispersed ; the excitement of the fîre faded be- 
 lore tuât trank interest in death, which such people hâve no 
 hésitation in expressing. Society veils it with décent reserve 
 and calls it morbid and vulgar, yet it is ineradicably human' 
 and circumstances alone décide whetlier it shall be confessed 
 But when the preacher came out of the hou8e,all was quiet 
 and deserted. The snow, driving in white sheets /iown the 
 mountain was tinged with a faint glow, where, in a blindin^ 
 mist it whirled across the yards ; it had corne too late to save 
 the lumber. but it had checked an.l deadened the fiâmes so 
 ashes ^nburned planks only smouldered slowly into 
 
 John had told Mrs. Davis of her loss with that wonderfui 
 gentleness which characterized ail his dealings with sorrow 
 lie tound her trying to quiet her baby, wheu he went in. 
 Jeaving outside in the softly falling snow that ghastly burden 
 which the men bore. She looked up with startled, question- 
 iDgeyes ashe entered. He took the c hild out of her arms, 
 
 -amt^hushed ît upon tis breast, and then, with one of her 
 shakmg hands held firm in his, he told her. 
 
 K f ?1j'?''^^' "^K ^^^^^^^ ^ her that the sorrow in his face 
 iiad told her. and that she knew his message before he spoke 
 
 'M: 
 
 ^li''^ 
 
 ^' ï 
 
 3 '?(! ^% 
 
 ^-i«i*Sl4J-^ >' 'VIm*"-».! - .n'ai ils 
 
 .»Jrt|Jlà 
 
110 
 
 
 
 r>. : 
 
 1 1^^ ' 
 
 -)(I| 
 
 JOXH WAIID, PKEACHER. 
 
 Mrs Davis had not spoken into loud weepinrr whpn «h^ 
 
 ir e" ^aT„'\",t':5? r:i î^ -/ --^ -^'imrwCjot 
 
 face creS. tTf\\"T^ '^' '^''' ^^'^^ covered Tom's 
 ÎSrSsIïeoSJ^^""" her fingers, and pullingit a 
 
 l^know it," he aiiswered gently. 
 ,;V V ^? buysome things for the voun<r ones Tt^ 
 
 I tl- i'r M^/shi^ Y """'' -'"T '" 8° ■'"- rtaioST 
 
 t;.i 1 ™/S"ea, she cama in a b t after he went and shi- 
 
 prelcheThe iLu. ^?''"v ' •"!" •'o™*- But, béin- started, 
 
 " les," John .sai(i. 
 m'f a t~ ilf £ ;'S!^^1"-'"'--, of tl^sbeo, she said. 
 
 fh.^T"' !'™^'""i sheknolt down and 'hid her face in 
 
 ma i aml'th» fr„tl . . T,""" '°"''' ^S*»"- The dnll, brutal 
 man anU the fretiul, faded wotnan had been bovand rrfrl nn^e 
 
 a„d^h«d had then-Iittle romance, like happier'hnstaTi Td 
 ^^o hn^idnotans wM_her^u|^,aAt.o^^e«r^gatfaeredHg= 
 
 Mr. Davis raised her head and looked at him " Tell me 
 don t thmk he died m sm ?•' she asked ahnosi fiercely, 
 
>)^^ 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 lu 
 
 "I wish I could say I did not," he answered 
 
 bhe threw lier hands up over her head with-a shriU crv 
 
 <rentW<<lf ^u' ^^".? "' ^^'' "^^'y ^"^^ ^'"■»'^''" he said 
 
 save Charley. Leave the judgments of God to God ; they are 
 not for lis to think of." _ ' ^ 
 
 But she could not be put off in that vvay. Too weak to kiieek 
 she had sunk upon the floor, leaning^ still ayainst the bed 
 
 "Vr^ i ^'''!"^ f '"^ ^?''''" ^'''''' ^'^' Imsband's body! 
 
 he w?s"dn;;;L^ot^^^^^^^ ^-^ '^--- 
 
 " No " he said, " î do not think that, Mrs. Davis " 
 Is h.e saved ?" she cried, her voice shrill with ea-erness 
 
 John waa silent, She clutehed his arni with her thin 
 fin-ers, and shook it in her excitenient ; herpinched. terrified 
 lace was close to his. 
 
 jZFV^'''''\T^' converted,-! know that,-bnt vvould the 
 Lord hâve eut hnn off, sndden like, in his sin, if He wasn't . 
 goin to save hnn ? ' 
 
 " We can only trust his vvisiloni ànd his c^oodness " " 
 Tom'^losU" ^^'"'^ ^'^ '^^^ ""*" """" "' '"' ^'^^-yon think-my 
 The preacher did not speak, but the passionate pitv in his 
 eyes told ht^r. She put her hands up to her throat as' thouc^h 
 r ,^he were suff^oeating and her face grevv ghastly 
 V "Hemeniber God knows what is best for' his children " 
 John said. "Hes^ndsthis grief ert'iW^s death toyou in Ws - 
 ^V infinité wisdqjn. He loves you,— He knows best " 
 \ "^JJo you mean,*' asked the woman slowly, « thM it was 
 )est for Tom he should die ?" ^^^ n ^^RH 
 
 "I mean this sorrow may be best for for you," he an- 
 ^ered tenderly. "God knows what you need He sends 
 sbiTow to draw our soûls near to Hira." 
 , /\?^'" f^ exclaimed, her voice broken ahd hoarse.^'JL^ 
 -=ttoiFt want no good fer më;îf roto it An^wh^ 
 
 should He love me instead o' Tom ? .Oh, I don't want his love, 
 as wouldn t give Tom another chance ! He might 'a' beei 
 €onverted this next revival, fer you would V pîeached hell 
 
 ■^^t 
 
 
 
 P 
 
 S'il 
 
 
 
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 iîts.t 
 
 «V 
 
 . », Ùt^AlIZ-i 
 
112 
 
 ,1 
 
 f 
 
 n 
 
 î. i I 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 I know you would, theu. No, I (Jon't want no good as coines 
 wiat way. Oh, preaclier, you ain'6 «oing to say you think my 
 loms burning m hell this night, arid me living to be niadé 
 better of it ? C^h, no, no, no !" She crawled to his feet, and 
 clasped lus knfees with her shakiqg arms. " Say he isn't — 
 say he isn't ! ' ■ 
 
 But^ the présence of thàt dead man asserted the hopeless- 
 ness ot John's creed; no liunian pity could dirn.his faith, and 
 ne had no words of .com|oft for the distracted woman who 
 clung to hi.n. He could i^nly lift her and try to soothe her. 
 out She did not seem/tlâ^hear him.until he put lier baby in 
 ^ arms ; at the touch of fts little^oft face against her drawn 
 cheek, she trembled vi«lently, and then came the merciful re- 
 lier ot tears She did not ask the preacher again to say that 
 lier husband^as not lost ; she had no iiope that he would tell 
 ner anythmg btit what she already'knew. " The soûl that 
 sinneth, it shall die." Slie tried, poor thing, to fitid some coni- 
 toit m the words he spoke of God's love for hw : listenino- 
 ^ WK P**^^<^^'siïence which vvrung his heart. " 
 
 \\hen John left her. beating his way home through the 
 blindmg snow, his face was as haggard as her own. He could 
 not escape from the ultimate conclusion of his créed,-" He 
 that behevetli not shall be damned." • Yet he loved and trustèd 
 complète y. His confidence in God's justice could not be 
 shaken; but it waawith almost a groan that he said, " O my 
 tTOd, my God, justice and judgment are the habitation of thy 
 throne; mercy and truth shall go before thv face ! But jus- 
 tice witli mercy,— justice first !" " 
 
 ',">' 
 
 ^i- 
 
 , -', . < ^\> 
 
JOJIX UAIil), PkEACHER 
 
 113 
 
 ^S*«^ 
 
 \^^ 
 
 CHAPTEli Xlf. 
 
 >< 
 
 The snow fell ail that ni^rlit, but the day broke exquisitely 
 clear upon a white aiid shininj,' world.' The sky vvas bfue and 
 sparklln<,^ and tlie keeri uorth.wiiid had carved the drifts iiito 
 wonderfui oyer-haii,o;ing curves. liké the curling crests of 
 bieakers. 
 
 John Ward went early to Mrs. Davis's. The sharp mony 
 of the night before was over ; there was even » monifiitary 
 complacincy at the iiiip»i;tuace of dcath, for the roora 
 uas fidl nî neighbors, whose hoisy synipathy drove lier 
 despair of heV^iuisband's fate froiu her niind. But when she 
 saw John, her terror came back, and she-be.^aii to be silent; 
 and not so ready to tëll the story of the deitU man's bravery 
 to each «ne that entered. lUit vvith the people who vvere not 
 imm€diately atfected; the excitemeut oi Tom's dèàth could 
 scarcely last. 
 
 6y the afteraoD^i' liis widow was for Ure niost pa^t alone. 
 Helen had thought It would be so, and waited until then to 
 go and see her. But tirst she went into her kitchen, and she 
 and Alfaretta packed a little basket with cold méat, and svveet 
 snovvy brea'd^^ t^nd some Jam.^fur t]ie cliihiren. x -^^ 
 
 " They do èay," Alfaretta said, aK^he-tucked the corners of 
 the napkin uader the wicker cover,— " they do say Tora Davis 
 went-' straight to the bad place, las^night. He wasiï't never 
 converted,,you know; but somehow, aeein' aà he really 
 thought he vvas going to save that Charley, seein' as he died 
 for him, ys you might say, it don't seem like,as if it Vvas just " 
 .—Alfaretta lowei-ed her voice a little— " as if it was just— 
 faii^- Do you think he went there, Mrs. Ward?" 
 
 " I know he did not," Helen answered promptly. " £ 
 
 ^ don'.t think ?ibout hell quite as you do, Alfaretta. I cannot 
 
 ^-belisv&Cîodrpumskes pêopie-eternffliy; forif Hêirgo^^ 
 
 could not be so cruel. Why, no human being wouîd be so 
 
 c^el as that, and do you think we ought to believe that nieu' 
 
 are betterand kjnder than God I" 
 
 'i^ 
 
 E 
 
 J 
 
 s'il 
 
 
 
 j^^v «Sa«. * ik'^Wi^ *, 
 
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 f 
 
 f 
 
 m: 
 
 If 
 
 'r-v. 
 
 
 iI4 
 
 JOHN 'WAKD, fREACHEK. 
 
 f . 
 
 Alfaretta Jookod confused. " Well, but justice ?" "' "V- î.,^ 
 
 ; Justice !" Heleti said. " Woulcl it be just if I put a littîe 
 «hild where it was certain to fall down, and then punish it for 
 ftlJli"K > The child did not usk ^o be put there. So God puts 
 us hen where we niust sin ; woûld it be just to punish us 
 eternally for his own wdrk ?" 
 
 Alfaretta shook her head,, and sighed. " Well, ï don't' 
 know but yer riglit, thou2;h the preacher don't say sô," 
 
 Helen did not speak fora moment, and then gaid quigtlyj 
 *• Perhaps not,— not yet ; but he will» say so some day, He is 
 80 good liimself, you know, Alfaretta, \m cannot bear to think 
 every one else doeg not love and serve God, too ; and it seenis 
 tç him as though they ought to be punished if tliey don't." 
 
 ïhis was a very lame explanâtion, but it closed the discus- 
 sion, and she hi\rried away irôm the hones|^arching eyés of 
 hej servant, which she fèlt niust see througï the tlfmsy ex- 
 cuse. Her eyes burned with sudden'tears JLit blurred tlie 
 %vhite landscape ;• it hurt her to',excuse her husband's belief 
 eveu to herself, and gave her a feeling of disloyalty to him ; ^ 
 for a moment hlie weakly lon-e^o creep into the shelter of 
 the monstrous error m which me felt he Jived, that they might 
 be one there, as in evèrythihg else. " Yet it does not mlit- 
 ter/ she said to herself, smiling a little. " We love each 
 other. We know we don't think alike on doctrinal points 
 but we lo\'e èach other." ' 
 
 She stopped a moment at' thé lumbèr-yard. The ghastly 
 blackness of the ruin glared against the snow-covered'hiUs 
 aM, the dazzling blue oî the sky ; liere and there a ptiif of 
 stiimi shpwed where the nielting snow oo • tbo Cooler beams 
 dripped ou the hot embefs below. Some scattere||^flMps,of 
 Itimlsermen and their foriom w^^ braved the coMJK&|od 
 talking the tire over, for, after alFit was the hin^âflHH^- 
 ést ; death would not come to .them for years, ^^^ps/but 
 where Were they going to get money ibr tlieirfamilies during 
 
 *^^ ^É?S • -^^^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^ "'^ rafting down the river until 
 aftetljj^loggers had brought their rafts froni up in the moun- . 
 tai n4 fi^M^éAn ito planks. , 
 
 -^^^j|M Br Sy'^^^^^^^"^ ruins. and 
 
 pointe(i1^^^|. Mr. Smem was a cai^nter, and kept a gror 
 
 ^Vjil'A».lcJ^ltl!K , 
 
 .^A. 
 
 
JOHN WAUD, PREUcHER. 
 
 
 15 
 
 r shelterof comparative allluerice. ^lieii ho saw the preaX 
 
 er s wife, lie came over to gpeak to her^ ^ ^ 
 
 " yj'; "»^'«n'.." he saiçl," the dispensations of Providence 
 
 lasM ^^^'•''"■'""''-^^'•^^ ^''« ^■i^'^^^ «''^>"l^l '"^ve J.eeu W 
 
 ^ad a habit of holdiu.. hi^* mouth open aftpoment 
 
 r,.^'\ii.^^ ï ï , , . '"^"«'"j,^ ms moiitn open annoment 
 
 î«m,f, '';'';'^ o<>k„K„. as tlK,u.h heieltalmt hi^Jten- 
 
 ,.!,?? T,f," '"'■ '"'™id'*. "hich «■ereaiways pionèînml 
 
 'h m Th ''"'"f "''"»• H^l--'" '""l 've.y little , Jiencè^th 
 nim, and uaed to.nns\v<.r h c ^i^i.i,. „»/.__j * -, .^ " 
 
 1i,-m «. ^ ■-"—••—'• ii«»t'.i nau rery jittle patiencèVith 
 ,h m and uaed to.niswer his^loVvly uttered re marks withîk 
 .qnickness whieh coiifused him. >viuft^^ 
 
 ime of year, she rep led, almost beforx. he had fin^shed speak* 
 DS- ►^ne was in hastn ta^n^nh Mr>. r^^,.: V i i^"'»' 
 
 incT y», ~. ~{^i'"^"'"^'""°'' «J^i^i^nenaa nnisnedspeak- 
 
 iDg. Shewasinhaste to^^ch Mrs. Davis, and she had no 
 tiine to hear Elder Dean'a,.platitudes 
 
 wav 'wn?f n hv 7Z ^''- ^'^^'^''^' '"""^h "^ *^" aetonished 
 wa>, wfffen a by-stander niterrupted him : " I suppose this 
 
 lere sudden death inourmidst" (it waseasy to falHurpious 
 Phraseobgy in the presei>ce of EWer Dean) " will le Se 
 «he subject of the prayer.ineeting to-ni-ht ?" ■ 
 
 " It will " said Mr, Deaji solenlnly,— " it wiU It is an aw 
 luUxampletounbelievers. An' it i^ a lesson to tVe owner« 
 
 Tullf^irç^''^ "^ '^' ^"^^«•" 1^^^"' -i^h a Sharp look 
 at Helen out of his narrow eyes, he addéd, " I haven't seen 
 youat çrayer-meeting lately. Mrs. Ward It is a bleàsed 
 .place, a ^lessed place: the Lord touches sinners'hearts Sa 
 nrM^f-'^u^^'^^^'^î «^^^« h^^« been taught to wdk 
 m the hght, m the light of God." Mr. Dean prSlonged the 
 
 frpraîyer and admonition. ^. puuni. 
 
 Helen did not answer. .^ ' z.- 
 
 But the elder was not rebuffed. " I hope we wiU see von 
 
 Whv h.v '"'^' : ^f'''''' ^^^««" «f ^«^i^-1 i« rpproachfn. 
 Why hâve you stayed a way so long, TVlrs. Ward ?" *'" 
 
 âhn^Ti rt^^^ impertinence of his questions, Hele£'s face 
 
 but i^fJ^M'^V}^ prayer-tneeting," she aiiswered quietly • 
 but before the elder could recover from the shock of snni o 
 statpment, Mrs. Nevins had corne up to speakio him 
 
 "A '■ 
 
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 4, >.'f.., 
 
 
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 I afilV4.ik)i 'S. 
 
116 
 
 * 'JOHN WAED, PKEACHEK. 
 
 t I 
 
 a ■ 
 
 m 
 
 " Have'^ you seen Mrs. Davis yet, Mr. Dean ?" sbe said. 
 bhe took on avvful, last night ; the neighbçrs heard lier. 
 Iwas atter tvvelve ÏQre she was quiet." 
 
 " Yes, I saw her," responded the eWer, shaking liis head iu' 
 a pompons vvay. " I went to adniinister consolation Vm 
 just coniing froni there now. It is an awful jndgnient ou 
 that man : no chancfe for repentance, overtook by hell as I 
 told Mrs. Davis, in a moment ! But the Lord niust be pîaised 
 lor his justice : that ought to coinfort her " 
 
 " Good heavens r'.cried Helen, " you did not tell that poor 
 woman her husband was oveitaken by hell ?" ^ • 
 
 " Ma'ani," said Mr. Dean, fairly stutterin- with astonish- 
 
 ment at the condemnation Of her tone— " I— I did." ' 
 
 " Oh, shame !" Helen said,' heedless of the listeners around 
 t^ein. " How dared you say such a thing ? How dared you 
 libel the goodness of God ? Toni Davis is not in hell \. 
 man who died to save another's life ? Who would want the 
 heaven bf such a God ? Oh, that poor wife ! How could 
 you hâve had the heart tomake her think God was so cruel ^" 
 Tliere was a dead silence ; Elder Dean was too dumfound- 
 ed to speak, and the others;. lookhig at Heleii's eyes tiashin<» 
 through her tears of passionate pain, were almost persuaded 
 that she was right. They waited to hear more, but she turned 
 and humed away, her breath quifck, and a tightened feelin.. 
 ip her throat. '"" 
 
 The elder was the first to break the spell of her words but 
 he opened his lips twice before a sound came " May' the 
 Lord forgive her ! Tom Davis not in hell ? Why, where's 
 the good of a hell at ail, theii ?" - 
 
 Helen's heart was burning with sympathy for the sorrow 
 which had been so cruelly wounded. She had forgotten the 
 reserve which respect for her. husband's opinions always en- 
 torced. ^' It is wicked to hâve said such a thing ."■' she thou^ht 
 as she walked rapidly^ along over the creaking snow. " I will 
 tell her it is not tiue,— it lîever could be true." 
 
 The path through the ragged. unkempt garden in front of 
 
 =the1;enement hônse was go troddëF that the snow was packed 
 and hard. Ihe gâte swung back with a jar anil clatter, ànd 
 two ln^ip frosted heiis flew shriekiug out'from the shelter of 
 the ash-heap behind it. The door was open, and Helen could 
 
 see the j 
 not been 
 livid tree 
 il saggin; 
 singed ar 
 Mrs. L 
 visitor eiî 
 her ding) 
 opposite 1 
 even the 
 " l'm V 
 Helen. ' 
 Helen 
 it had do] 
 say. This 
 working c 
 in the ne: 
 steam abo 
 soap. 
 
 She fol] 
 
 on a beiic 
 
 had dripp( 
 
 floor. She 
 
 some food 
 
 of houseke 
 
 But the 
 
 shirt from 
 
 hands, the 
 
 stopped, ai 
 
 and once ] 
 
 sori'ow, 1101 
 
 the two W( 
 
 " Mrs. r 
 
 It was a 
 
 ear ; it was 
 
 ■îi duU, hop 
 
 ^Tîeighbors 1 
 
 hard on he 
 
 then Mr. I 
 
 hell. 
 
 
 jiHif^. ■ 
 
JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 117 
 
 : see the square of the eiitry, papered, where the plaster ha«l 
 
 -i^vid trees. On either side was the entrance to a touement • 
 ^. sagpng nail m <^e of the door-posts held a coat and a 
 siru^d and battered hat. Hère Helen knocked. ^ "" 
 
 Mrs. Davis was in the small inner room, but came ont as her 
 visitor entered wiping the soapsuds from her bTre ùrm^ on 
 her dmgy gingham apron. On the other side of the room 
 <>pposite the door, was that awful Présence, which silJnced 
 even the voices of the childuen sucncea 
 
 rr ' , ^°™ ^ ^^^^ sliirt;— fer to-morrow " 
 
 Helen took the hand, wrinkled and bleached witli the work 
 it had c one, and stroked it gently ; she did noi know ^mt to 
 say Thls was not the grief she had thought of-a woman 
 workmg calmly at her wash-tub, while her^usband avTead 
 1.1 the next room. Helen could see the tub. with îhe mist of ^ 
 steam aboutit, and the wash-board, and ihe bar of" 
 
 ShefollowedMrs Davi.%backto her work, and sat down 
 on a bench ont of the way of a little stream ôf water wS 
 had dnpped from the leaking tub, and trickled acroslthe 
 
 ^ome food for them ; she knew it was so hard to hâve to S 
 €f housekeepmg at such a time. 
 
 .J!?l ^^^^^^idow scarcely listened; she stood liftin- the 
 shnt from the water, and rubbibg it gently between her hard 
 hands, then dipping it back into ^the^suds^ ag^a^n Once she 
 stopped, and drew the back of her wet hand'across hè? eyes 
 and once Helen hear her sigh ; yet she did not speak of her'- 
 sorrow, nor of Elder Dean'? cruel words. • For a Me wMe 
 the two women weresilent. 
 
 ^ Mrs. Davis," Helen said, at last, " l'm so sorry " 
 It vvas a very simple thing to say, but it caught the woman's 
 ^ar ; it was différent from any of the sympathy to whicrin 
 
 iieighborslïar sîffhM^ ftnft ar^ no^ ^^AT.jfy^: " ""^g- -^^ — 
 
 then Mr. Dean had corne, witi, fearful talk of jnatice. and of 
 
 
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 • i 
 
 >-M^ 
 
 
U 
 
 118 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 A big tear roUecl dowri her face, aod dropped into-the tiilr 
 ** Thank yon, ma'am," she- said. 
 
 She inade à pretense of tuniing towards the light of the 
 one small window to see if the 8%rt was quite clean ; theu 
 she*began to wriiig it oul^ wrappiîîg the twist of wet lineii 
 about her wrist. When she s^dke again, her voice was 
 steady. > 
 
 " Elder Dean 'lows I ought n't tl) be soriy ; he says l'a 
 ought to be resigned to God's justîc^. He says good folks 
 ought to be glad when sinners go to'\the bad place, eyen if 
 they're belouging to them. He 'lt>ws l'd ought n't to be 
 sorrv," \ 
 
 " I am sure you hâve a right to be sorry Tom is dead,'' 
 Hêlen said, — the womnn's composure nmde lier calm, too,— 
 " but I do riot believe he is in any place now that Tieed niake 
 you sorry. I -do iiot- believe what Elder Dean said aboutr— 
 hell." ' / 
 
 Mrs. Davis looked at her, a faint surprise dawnii>g in her 
 tired eyes, and shook her head. " Oh, l'm not sayin' that he 
 ain't right, l'ni not sayin' Tom ain't in the bad })l(\ee, ner 
 that it ain't justice. l'm a Christian wonian. I was convioted 
 and converted when I wns n't but twelve years old, and I 
 know m'y religion. ïom — he was n't no Christian, he did n't 
 ever expérience a change of heart ; it was àlways like as if 
 he was just going to be converted, when he was n't in drink ; 
 fer he was good in his heart, Tom was. But he was n't no 
 Christian, an' Fni not sayin' he is n't lost. l'm only sayili','^— 
 this with a sudden passion, and knotting her tremulous hand* 
 hard together, — '^ l'm only sayin' 1 can't love God no more T" 
 Him havin' ail the power — and then look at Tom an' me " — 
 Helen tried to speak, but Mrs. Davis would not listen. 
 " No," she cried, "yer the preacher's wife, but J must say it. 
 He never give Tom a chance, an' how am I goin' to love Him 
 now ? Tom," — she pointed a shaking finger at the cofîin in the 
 next room, — " boni, as you raight say, drinkin'. His father 
 died in a d r unke n fit, and his mother give it to h er baby w ith 
 
 her milk. Then, what schoolin' did he get ? Nothin', 'ïess it 
 •was his mother lickin' him. Tom's often told me that. He 
 had n't no trade learned, neither, — ^just rafted with men as 
 bad as him. Is it any wonder he was n't converted ?" 
 
 
 gion, ner i 
 
...,p... 
 
 JOHN WARD. PREACHER. 
 
 119 
 
 " I know ail that," Helen began to say "gently, but Mrs. 
 Davis could nôt check the ton-ent of her despairing grief. 
 
 " He did n't hâve lïo chance ; an' he did n't ask to be boni 
 neither. God put him hère, an' look at the way He made him 
 live ; look at this house ; see the floor, how the water runs, 
 down into that corner ; it is sagged^ an' leanin' — the whole 
 thing is rotten ; look at that one window, up against the wall; 
 not a ray of sunshine evcr struck it. An' here'a where God's 
 niade us live. Six of us, now the baby's corne. Children was 
 the only thing we was rich in, and we did n't bave food 
 enough to put in their inouths, or décent clothes to coVer^em. 
 Look at the people 'round us hère — livin' in this liere row of 
 teneinents — drinkin', lyin' svveariô'. What chance ha*î Toïn ? 
 God never give him aîîy, but He could of, if He'd had^mînd 
 to. 80 I can't love Him, Mrs. Ward. — I can't IÇVe Him ; Him 
 havin' ail the power, and yet lettin' Tom'g souI to down tp îiell; 
 fer Tom could n't help it, and hha livin' so. FSm't dônyin' reli- 
 gion, ner anything like that — l'm a Christian woniaii, an' a 
 member — but I can't love Him, so there's no use talkin'-r-I 
 can't love Him." 
 
 She turned away and shook the shirt out, hanging it over 
 the back of a chair in front of the stove, to dry. Helen 
 had followed her, and put her arm across the thin, bent 
 shoulders, her eyes full of tears, though tlie widow's were , 
 hard and bright. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Davis," she cried, " of course you could not love 
 u Crod wlio would never give Tom a chance and then punish 
 him ; of course you could not love Him ! But he is not 
 punished by being sent to hell ; indeed, indëed, he is not. If , 
 God is good, He could not be so cruel as to give a soûl no 
 chance, and then send it tohell. Don't ever think that Tom, 
 brave fellow, is there ! Oh, believe what I say to you '."' 
 
 Mrs. Davis seemed stupetied ; she looked up into those 
 beautiful distressed brown eyes, and her dry lips moved. 
 
 " You don't think," she said, in a hoarse, hurried vyhisper 
 — " VQ u're not afiA ni nT.. T mn î i^' f ii i hj- Jl ?" ■ ' 
 
 " I know he is not, I know it I Justice ? it would be the 
 most f rightful injustice, because, don't you see," she went on 
 eagerly, " it is just as you said, — Tom had no chance . so God 
 could not punish him eternally fôr being what he had to be, 
 
 
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 120 
 
 -. ?>' 1^,1 
 
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 r 
 
 JOHN WABD, PREACHER. 
 
 born as lie was, and living as lie ditl. I don't know ^nything 
 about people's soûls. when they die,— J mean about going to 
 heaveii, — but I do know this : as long as a souI lives it bas a 
 cbance for goodness, a chance to turn to God. There is no 
 such place as hell !" 
 
 "But — but" — the widow faltered, " be was eut off in bis 
 sins. The preacber wouldn't say but be was lost !" Her 
 woids were a wail of despair. 
 
 Helen groaned ; sbe was confronted by lier loyalty to'Jobu, 
 yet tbe suffering of tbis bopeless souI ! " Listen," sbe said, 
 takiug Mrs. Davis!s bands in bers, and speaking slowly and 
 tenderly, wbile she beld the weak, shifting eyes" by her owu 
 steady look, " listen. I do not know what the preacber would 
 say, but it is not true that Toni is lost; it is not true that 
 God is cruel and wicked ; it is not true that, whilo Tom's soûl 
 lives, be cannot grow good." . -, 
 
 The rigid look in tbe woman's face began to disappeaf ^ber 
 bopeless belief was shaken, not througb any argument, but by 
 the mère force of the intense conviction shiniiig in Helen's 
 eyes. . \, ' 
 
 " Oh," she said appealingly^nd beginning to tremble, " are 
 you true with me, ma'am?" '-_' 
 
 " I am true, indeed I am !"'' Helen answered, uiiconscious 
 that her own tears fell upon Mrs. Davis's bands ; the woman 
 looked at her, and suddenly hpr face began to flush that pain- 
 ful red wliicb comes betore vilplent weeping. 
 
 " Jf you're true, if you're i^ght, then I can be sorry. I 
 wouldn't let rayself be sorry wbile I couldn't bave no hope. 
 Oh, I can be that sorry it turns me glad !" 
 
 The baçdness was ail gone now ; she broke into a storm of 
 tears, saying between her sobs, " Oh, l'm so glad — l'm so 
 glad !" 
 
 A long time the two women sat together, the widow still 
 shaken by gusts of weeping, yet listening hungrily to Helen's 
 Avords, and sometimes even smiling througb her tears. The 
 hardship of loss to hei-self and her children was not even 
 thoTight ofr there was only iiitengë^relief ffom horrible^ féaTT" 
 she did not even stop to pity Tom fqiKthe pain of death ; com- 
 ing eut of that nightmare of hell, she could only rejoice. 
 
 The early sunset flashed a'sudden ruddy light througb the 
 
 
•"* 
 
 JOHN WARD, FREACHER. % 
 
 121 
 
 win^ow in the front rooni, making a gleaniifi<r bar on the bare 
 whitewashed wall, and startling Helen with the lateness of 
 the hour. 
 
 " I must go now," she said, rising. " I will corne again to- 
 morrow." > o 
 
 Mrs. Davis rose, too, lifting her tear-stained face, with its 
 trenibhng sniile, towards her deliverer. " Won't you corne in 
 the other room a minute ?" she said. ' " 1 want to show you 
 the coffin. I got the best I could, but I didn't hâve no pride 
 m it. It seems différent now," , • 
 
 They went in together, Mrs. Davis crying quietly./ Tom's 
 face was hidden, and a fine instinct of possession, whph came 
 with the strange uplifting of the moment, madeihis wife 
 shnnk from uncovering it, f 
 
 She stroked the varnished lid of the coffin, with her rough 
 * hands, as tend^rly as though the poor bruised body withln 
 €ould feel her touch. 
 
 " How do you like it ?" she asked anxiously. " I wanted 
 to do what I could for Tom. I got the best I could. Mr. 
 Ward give me some hioney, and I spent" it this way. I thought 
 I wouldu't mindgoing hungry, aftervvards. You don't sup- 
 pose,"— this with a sudden fear, as oiie who dreads to fall 
 asleep lest a terrible dream may return,— " you don't suppose 
 l'il forg€t thèse things you've been tellin' me, and think that 
 of Tom ?" 
 
 "No,'' Helen answered, '• not if you just say to yourself 
 that Itold you what Mr. Dean said was not true. Never 
 mind if you cannot remember the reasons I hâve given you, — 
 rll tell theni ail to you again ; just try and forget what the 
 eldersaid." 
 
 " I will tiy;' she said ; and then wavering a little, " but 
 the preacher, Mrs. Ward ?" 
 
 "The preacher," Helen answered bravely, "will think this 
 way, too, some day, I know." And then slîe made the same 
 excuse for him which she she had given Alfaretta, with the 
 same^pang^of reg ret. 
 
 
 
 "ïes. ma'am," the woman said, " I see. I feel now as 
 though I could love God real hard 'cause He's good to Tom. 
 But Mrs. Ward, the preacher miust be wonderfully good, (çt 
 lie can think God would send my Tom to hell, and yet hei2aa 
 love Him ! I couldn't do it." 
 
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 122 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
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 good!" Helencried, with a great^ leap (rf^hér 
 
 "Ôh, he*8 so 
 heart. 
 
 The wind blew the povvdered snow about, as she walked 
 home in tlie cold whiteihisk. piling it in great drifts, or leaVf 
 ing a ridge of earth swept bare and clean. The blackened 
 lumber-yards were qUite deserted in the deepeningchill which 
 was felt as soon as the sun set ; thé melting snow on the hot, 
 charred planks had trozeu into long icicles, and as shestopped 
 to look at the ruin,. one snapped, and iell with a spltntering 
 crash. 
 
 One of tbbse strangely unsuggested reraembrancés tlashed 
 into her mipd : the gleain of a dove's white wing against the 
 burning blue of a Jiily sky, the blaze of flowers in the rectoiy 
 gardeu, arid the stiitle, peuetrating fragrance of mignonette. 
 Perhaps the contrast of the hitense cold and the gathering 
 night brought the scène before het ; she sighed; if she and 
 John could go away froni this grief and miserj' and sin, which 
 thej seenied poweijless to relieve, and from this hideous 
 shadow of Calvinism! 
 
 " After ail," she thoiight, hurryinpsalong towardshome and 
 John, "Mrs. Davis is right,— it is hard to loveHim. He dûfîS 
 iiot give a chance to every one ; none of us can escape the 
 inévitable past.. And that is as hard as to be punished un- 
 justly. And tlieie is no help for it ail. Oh, wher^ is God?" 
 
 Just as she left the lurnber-)-aKl district, she heard her 
 name called, ancisaw Gifford WQodhousVstriding towards her. 
 " You hâve been to those poor Davises, I suppose," he said, as 
 he reached her side, and took her empty basket from her 
 haiid. • V 
 
 " Yes," she answered, sighing. " Oh,''Gifford, how dread- 
 ful it ail is,— the things thèse people say, and really believe!" 
 Then she told him of Elder Dean, and a little of her talk with 
 Mrs. Davis. Gifi^rd listened, his^face |frowing very grave, 
 
 " And that i^their idea of God ?" he said, as ahe finished. 
 " Well, it is mine of the devil. But I can't help feeling sorry 
 you spoke as you dj dto the elder." 
 
 ^WhyT^êTiéTsTéd: 
 " Well," he said, " to assert your opinion of the doctrine of 
 etemal damnation as you "did, considering your- position 
 Helen, was scarcely wise.' 
 
 LànA, 
 
 " Do you ] 
 B^onstrated, 
 and I could 
 kuow John, 
 opinion." G 
 the opinion 
 should be soi 
 "Well," G 
 feel called uj 
 They laugl 
 ,you conie to 
 ness which d( 
 tlian that sii 
 niaking God 
 ing ttie detai 
 Somebody sa, 
 they did not 
 there are stag 
 because he is 
 hâve climbed 
 is a phase ih s 
 
 "But you 
 "Corne, Giff, 
 pressed." 
 
 " I don't ob 
 I liope the ma 
 Ward." 
 Helen, laug 
 •ford," she sai'tl 
 over so small ; 
 ten everythin< 
 John would n\ 
 
 
/ 
 
 JOHN WAKD, PEE.vCHElî. 
 
 123 
 
 "Do you mean because I aiii the preadier's wife?" she re- 
 
 S'f nn n' '"l'r"f " ^ "^f ^ ^"^" ™'^' convictions, if I am; 
 and I could not hsten to such a thing in silence. You don't 
 
 nn^nn " "n /''ï ^1^^"^'" '^''"^^ °^J"^^ ^^ ^^e .xpression of 
 opmion. Gifford dared not say that John would object to 
 the opinion itself. " But perhaps I spoke too forcibly • I 
 <^xr i,^»^?.'""^' ^^ ^^ unki«d, even to Elder Dean." 
 Well Giiïbrd said doubtfully, " T only Iiope he niav not 
 teel called upon to- ' deal with you.' " 
 
 They laughed, but the young man added, " After ail when 
 .you corne tothink of it, Helen, there is no bigotry or nkiTow- 
 ness which does not spring fro.n a truth. and nothing is truer 
 thaii that sin is punished eternally. It is only theîr wav of 
 piaking God responsible for it, -not ourselves,^and arran-- 
 mg the détails of fîre and brimstohe, ^|hich is so monstrou°s. 
 Somebody says that when tlie Calvinists decide.l on sulphur 
 they did not kiiovv the properties of caustic potash. But 
 hère are stages of truth , there's no use knocking a man down 
 because he.is only on the firststep\)f the laddei- which you 
 hâve climbed into liglit. I thinkbelief in eternal damnation 
 is a phase ih spiritual development.'' 
 
 -rZ!^ T-^'^.T'^ '"'^l^^ ^''J^^^ ^^ ''^y piotestrf she said. 
 reS" ^ ""'■^'^ ^"^ ^'^'''^"^' "^"^""^ ^ ^^ ^^- ' 
 
 " I don't object to the piotest," he unsvvered slowly, "but 
 wlT" '"'''"''''' ""^ '^ '''^^ """^ '"''^''' ^^""^'' ^"ffic^ilt for Mr. 
 Heleii, laughed, in spite of her dc-pression. " Whv. Gif- 
 'ford, she said, " it is not like you to be so apprehensive, and 
 over so small a matter, too. Mr. Dean has.probably for-ot- 
 ten everything I said, and, except that I iiean to tell him 
 John would ne ver hear a word about it.'' 
 
 
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124 
 
 JOrtN WARI), PREACHER. 
 
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 CHAPTE^XllI. ' 
 
 TWE winter was passing very quietly in Ashurst ; the only 
 really great excitçinent was Helen's letter about the fire and 
 Colonel Drayton's attack of goût. 
 
 Life vvent on as it had as far back as anyone cared to re-< 
 inember, with the sraall round of church festivals and little 
 ieas, and the Saturdayëvening whist parties at the rectory. 
 But under monotonous calm may lurk very wearing anxiety, 
 and this was the case in Ashurst. 
 
 Mr. Denner endeavored, with but indiffèrent success, to 
 conceal the indécision which was stiU preying upon his mind. 
 Tor the suggestion gained from Jephtha had proved useless. 
 He had, indeed, tried to act upon it. A day or two after the 
 thought had corne to him which so interruptecf family prayers, 
 Mr. Denner sallied forth to learn his fate. It was surprising 
 how particular he was about his linefi that morning, — for he 
 went in the morning, — and he arrayed himself in his best 
 clothes; he saw no. impropriety, considering the importance of 
 the occasion, in putling on his evening coat. He eVen wore 
 his new hat, a thing he had not done more than half a 
 dozen times— at a funeral perhaps, or a fair — since he bought 
 it, three vears before. 
 
 It was a bright, frosty day, and the little gentleman stepped 
 briskly along the road towards the house of the two sisters. 
 He felt as light-hearted as any youth who goes a-wooing with 
 a reasonable certainty of a favorable .answer from his beloved. 
 He eyen sang a little to himself, in a thin, sweet voice, keep- 
 ing time with his stick, like a drum-niajor, and dwelling faith- 
 fully on ail the prolonged notes, 
 
 " Believe me." s ang Mr^ Denn er , — ^ 
 
 " ' Believe 
 Which 
 
 1 me, if 
 
 ail those endearing joung cbarms 
 on so fondly to-day.' " 
 
 Mr. Denner's rendering of chârms was very elaborate. But 
 
 J'<llAtù->£^''.jÉ!à^ 
 
 b*-s4iiiwi»-^^c*isKT^?FrtTK -■,!•?<( 
 
JOHN WARD, PKEACHEIÎ. ^ 
 
 125 
 
 Coining arm iii anii cl.,wn the road were two small figures 
 Mr Denner s sight was not what it once was ; he fumbfed ia 
 the breast of his bottle-oreen overcoat for bis -lasses, as a sus- 
 picion of the truth dawned upou bim. 
 
 His song died upon his lips, and he turned irresolutely, as 
 though to «y but it was too late; he had recognized at the 
 sanie moment Miss Deborah and Miss Iluth Woodhouse Bv 
 no possibihty conld he say which he had seen first * / 
 
 He advanced to nieet tbem, but the spiing had gone froni 
 lus tread and the bght froni his eye ; he was thrown back 
 «pon his perp exities. The sisters, still ann" in arm, made a 
 demui-e httle bow, and stopped to say " Good-mornin- " but 
 Mr Denner was evidently depressed and absent -minde^Il 
 
 "I wonder whafs the matter with William Donner, sister ?" 
 Miss Kuth said, when they were out of hearino- 
 
 "Perhaps he's tioubled about his housekeeping," answered 
 Miss Deborah •' I should think he might l,e,^i mnst i^^ 
 Ihat xMary of lus does keep him looking so : And I bave rio 
 doubt she is wasteful ; a woman who i« economical witli lier 
 needle and thread is pretty apt to be saving in other thiiios ■ 
 ^ What a pity he bas n't a wife !" eommented Miss lîuth 
 Adèle Dae says lies never been in love. She says that that 
 aflair with Gertrude Drayton was a sort of inoculation, and 
 he s been perfectly healthy ever since." 
 
 "Verycoarsein dear Adèle to çpeak in that way," said 
 Miss Deborah sharply. " I suppose lie never bas gotten over 
 Gertrudes loss. \et, if bis sister-în-law had to die it i-^ a 
 pity it was n't a little sooner. He was tOo old when she died 
 to think of niarriMge." 
 
 " But, dear J)eboraii, lie is not quite too old even yet if he 
 lound a person of proper âge. Xot too young, and, of course, 
 
 Dot too OlCl. , 
 
 Miss Deborah did not reply inimediately. " Well I dbn't 
 k m ny ; per haps nQt^Bbe.eeneet.^ed.^Itio^iTkg a man'to be^ oï^ 
 an âge to kiiow his own mind. That is why latu so surprised 
 at Adèle Dale s unxiety to bring about a match between youn- 
 lorsythe and Lois, they are neither of them old enouMi tS 
 know their own miiids. And it is scarcely délicate in Adèle 
 I must say." ;> , ' 
 
 ;% 
 
 Jâ' ' 
 
 «-> 
 
"^ 
 
 '■•'■'^t' 
 
 m 
 
 
 JOHN WARD, fREACHER. 
 
 *' He's a veiy superior yoiirig nian," objected Mii^s lluth. 
 
 " Yes," Miss I )eboiah acknovvledged ; "ami yet"-she hesi- 
 tated à little— " I thiiik he lias not quite the— the modesty 
 one expects in a yôuiig person." 
 
 "l' Yes, but think how he lias' seei^the worki, sister !" ôricd 
 Miss Ruth. " You cannot expect hiiii to be just like otlier 
 young people." , y 
 
 ".True," said Mî^Ib Deborah, noddiiig lier lieaJ; " and yet" 
 ~it was évident l'roiu lier persistence tliat Miss Deborciti llhd 
 a grievance of somejkind — " yet he seenis to hâve morie'lluiu 
 a proper conceit. I beaïxlhini talk about whist, one ê\^iing 
 at the rectory ; he salid sbniething about a person, — a 5Pôlp, 1 
 believe, — and liis riiles in regard to 'signaling.' I ask'ed^liim 
 if he played," Miss J Jeborah coiitinued, her hands showing a 
 little angry nervousness ; " and he. said, ' Oh, yes, I leamed 
 to play one winter in Florida !' Learned to play in a winter, 
 indeed ! To achieve whist " — Miss Deborah held her head 
 very straight — " to achieve whist is the Work of a lifetime ! 
 l've 110 patience with a young person who „tes a thing like 
 that." ^ -"■['. 
 
 Miss Ruth was silenced for a moinelit ; she had no excuse 
 to off'er. 
 
 " Adèle Dale says the Forsythes are coniing back in April," 
 she said, at last. " ■ .. 
 
 " Yes, I know it," answei'ed Miss IJeborah. " I suppose 'it 
 will ail be arranged then. .1 asked Adèle if Lois was engaged 
 to him ; — she said, ' Not formally.' But hâve no doubt there's 
 an understanding.'' • 
 
 Miss Deborah was so sure of this that she had even meii- 
 tioned it casually to Gifford, of course under the same seal 
 of confidence with wjiich it had been told her. 
 
 It was quite true that Dick and his mother were to return 
 to Ashurst. After storming out of the Rectory library the night 
 of the Misses Woodhouse's dinner party, Dick had had a period 
 of hatred of evei:ything connected with Ashurst ; but that did 
 Jiot last more than a month, and was followed by an implor- 
 iag letter to Loi s . Her-anawerrbreught t4ie anger back agàiî 
 
 and then ita,reacti6n of love ; this see-saw wa^kept up, until 
 his last letter had announced that he and his mother were 
 coming to take tlie house they had had before, and spend the 
 summer. - 
 
 th^ 
 
 "^iëp^^ 
 
îfc. 
 
 JOHN WARD, IMlEAÇHElf. Cs 
 
 127 
 
 80 m 
 
 nave mademother promise to opeji tlie liouse m Àpiil 
 
 a mouth m^l «hallV you. 1 had ah ^awful ^^6^0 get 
 
 shP ^nnlTh «^\7^1d-. She knows why I want to co.ne, and 
 
 mto a wail of disàppointraent &m\ love 
 
 m^dST^ Tl '''''""'^' ■' î^"'' '^^^'^^ t''^ P^î^^'^^ i"to the Hre, 
 crest .nW ''^'i kTi «^^^«^^f ^«»^ in ^vatchin^^ the elaboratè 
 awfv " .1 "^^^^.?^.'" ?" ^'^ red^coals. " I wish he'd stay 
 
 It was stKsilly, she found herself smilino- in spite of her 
 
 Z h .1^° l^^bored.by hhn. But poor Dick had no one to 
 
 of X""] if' u"^ ^^'^ P^,T"^*^ ^"^ ^"« '^«^^<^ ^'n paper, in spite 
 , ofsô«iedifficulty m spelling, and could not gu^ès that he^ 
 wasJaughed at for his pains. 
 
 Miss Deborah and Miss llutli wererewarded for their walk' ■ 
 mto Ashurst by a letter from Gifford whichmade.them ouite 
 forget Mr. ]5enner's looks, and Mrs. Dale's bad taste in beino- 
 a matcn-maker. .^ 
 
 ln?'o.Tw 1 n" 1 ^"""^T ^^y u"' ^^^ ^^" '^^^ ^^^^ ' business 
 had called Imn from Lockhaven, and on his way back he 
 
 wouldstay a night in Ashurst. The little ladies were liumed 
 7vPn r^TTl ni'' ^^^'^^ Prepared more dainties than 
 M^^^f^K Y^Y^PP'^'^' '"^^^ possibly consume, and 
 rnZ ^ w^î? ^^"^ ^^'^ P^'°*^'"S of apple-blossoms in his bed- ^ 
 room, and let her rose jar stand uncovered on his dressina- 
 table for two days hefore his anival. When he came, the°y 
 ^overed about him with sinall caresses and little chirps of 
 atîeotion, as though they would ex^îress ail the love of the 
 months m which they had not seen him. 
 
 Gifford had thought he would go to the reôtory in the 
 evenmg, and somehow the companionship of his aunts wRile 
 there-hadiiotoccupied his imagination ; but ït would hâve 
 
 ^-^eea^eruehiaï^Wjhem âT&ôme, so Mter teâ; having^^ 
 eveiy one pf Miss Deborah's dishes, he begged them to come 
 with him to see Dr. Howe. They wereglad to go anywhereif 
 only with him, and each took an arm, and bore him trium- 
 phantly to the rectory. 
 
 
 '-.ï'-îijwf**^ > 'l.^ 
 
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 •■• I. 
 
 
 
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 128 ■ 
 
 JOIW WARn, PRKAOIIER. 
 
 ( 
 
 " Bless iiij' soiil," said Dr. Howe, looking at them over lus 
 «classes, as th^y cuiiie iiito the library, " it is good to see you . 
 again, young iniin ! How did you leaye Helen ?" He pushed 
 his chair back from the firçi, aifd let his newspapers rustile to 
 tho floor, as he rose. Max came iind snitîed about GiHofd's .; 
 knees.'and wagged his tail, hoping to be petted. I^js wais the 
 only one whuse greeting was constrainèd, afiti (ïifford's glad- 
 iiess withered mitler llie indifïerence in her eyes. 
 
 •' She dœsn't care,'' he thought whilé lie was anawerii^j^ Dr. 
 Howe, and rubbing^Max's ears vvitli his let't haml. " Helëft"^ ' 
 luay be" right about Forsythe, but sbe doesn't care forme, 
 eflher." ' - 
 
 " Sit liere, dear GitV," said Miss lîuth, motioniug him to a 
 chair at her side. > . ' 
 
 " There's a draugbt there, dear Euth," cvied Miss Deborah 
 aiixiously. " Çoine ii6i\rer thé tire, (îillord," But Gifford 
 only sAiiled good-naturedly, aiid leaned his elbow on the 
 niantel, grasping his coat-coltîtr with one hand, and listening 
 to Dr. Howe's (piestions about his nièce. 
 
 " She's very well," he answered, " and tlie happiest woman 
 1 ever saw. Thèse tvvo people were made for each other,' 
 doctor." ■ - 
 
 ■ "Well, now, see liere, young man," said the rector, who 
 could not help patronizing Gififord, " you'll disturb that happi-î 
 uess iî'you get into 'religions discussions with Helen. Womeu 
 don't uuderstand that sort of thing ; young'wornen, I môan,'' 
 he added, turning to Miss Deborah and then suddenly loaking 
 confused. " 
 
 Gifïôrd raised his eyebrows. '' Oh, well, Helen will reason, 
 you know ; she is not the womau totake acreed for granted.'! 
 
 " She must," the rector said^ with a chuckle, "if she's a 
 Presbyterian. She'll get into deep water if she goes to dis- 
 cussing prédestination and original sin, and ail that sort of 
 thing.'^ 
 
 "Oh," said Gifford lightly, "of couirse she does not discuss 
 those things. I don't think that sort of theological nibbish had 
 to be swept ont of her mtDdbëÎOTêthêrêalîyëâïTiësf questions — 
 of life presented themselves. Helen is singularly free from 
 the trammels of tradition-r-for a woman." 
 
 Lois looked up, wit|i a little toss of her head, %it Gifford 
 
 
JOHN WARD. 'PKfiACHER. 
 
 129 
 
 'à£L ' 
 
 did not even lurtice I.e.v. uor reaïize how clf.sely she waa 
 followiiig his word.^. . 
 
 ".Tohii-W.n(l. tlmugh," (JiffonI wèiit oii. "1s the most 
 perfect Prt'sbyteiuui 1 caii imagine. He k l(,gical t.. the bit- 
 ter eiid. wjuch is ui.usual. I fancy. I asked hinj his opinion 
 conccrnniïr a certain nian. a fellow named Davi8,-perhap8 
 ■ Helen wrote of hia death— I asked Ward wbat he thoualit of 
 hischanqes for salvation ; he acknovdedged. sadly en^'ou.^h 
 that he thonght hé wu* «lanined. He didn't use that wo"rl' 
 1 believe, ' the yoiing nian addeJ, sniiling, -.but it aniounted 
 to the same thing. ' ^. ' . 
 
 . Thorewas^an outc;ry froni his auditors. " AbùQiinablo *" 
 
 said i)r Howe, bnnging liis fist, heavily down on the table. 
 
 .f-l""^;'" ^ ''•'''■^ thought that of Ward.— outrageous !" 
 
 Ciittord looked surprised. " What a eruel man !" Lois eried • 
 
 wlaCe AIiss Dehorah said suddenly,— * ' 
 
 ,..']/^'/'' '^'■^'■' ^'^^^ ^'^^^'^^ flannels of yours worn well ?" But 
 tri nord appnrently did not hear her. 
 
 J' T^^'a 'V^,^«^'" ^^e. remonstrated, « you misunderstand 
 Ward. And he is nç)t cruel, Lois ; lie is the gentlest soûl I 
 <3ver knew. But he is logical, he is consis-tent ; he siinply ex- 
 presses. Presbyterianisni with utter truth, without shri.ikin- 
 iroin its conclusions.'* ' , "* 
 
 "Oh, he may be consistent," the rector acknowled'red with 
 easy transition to good-iiature, "but that don't alte? the fact 
 tliat he s a fool to say such thiiigs, Let him believe them if 
 he wants to, but for Heaven's sake let hi.u keep silent ' He 
 canhaldhistongue,and/yet not be a tJniversalist. Medio 
 tutusim m ihis, you knovvl It will be sure to offend the parish 
 
 f consigns peo|3le to the lower régions in such a free way '' 
 There is no danger o ': that^! Gigbrd said ; " J doubt if he 
 could say any thing oiiMie subject of hell too tough for the 
 spiritual digestion of his fiock. They are as sincère in their 
 behef as he is though they haven't his gentleness : in fact 
 they hâve lus- logic without his light ; there is very little of 
 the refinement of religion in Lockhaven." • . 
 
 ^^l^^^^aee tt^-liyt^P^-toi^ried. ---±)oesn^f Hèlën" 
 hate it ? Ot course she would never say so to us, but she 
 mitët ! Every body seems so dreadf uUy disagi-eeable ; and there 
 is really no one Heleri could know." 
 
 
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 130 
 
 JOHN WABD, PREACHER. 
 
 " Why, Helea knows theiii ail," ansvvered Gifford in his 
 slow way, looking down at the girl's impulsive face. -^:' 
 
 " Lois," said her father, " you are too emphatic in your way 
 of speakiug ; be more mild. I don't like gush." 
 
 '•Lois punctuates with exclamation points," Gifford ex- 
 plained good-naturedly, itieauing to take the sting out of Dr. 
 Howe's reproof, but hurting her instead. 
 
 /' But, bless my soûl," said the rector, " what does Helen 
 say to this sort of talk '?'' ^ 
 
 " I don't think she says anythiug, at least to him ; " Giftbrd 
 answered. " It is so unimport^ïit to Helen, she is so perfeçtly 
 satisfied with Ward, bis opinions are of no conséquence, 
 She did^ fire up, though about Davis," and then lie told the 
 story of Elder Dean and Heleii's an.<;ry protest. 
 
 Djj. Howe listened, first \vith l^tuvc disapproval and then 
 with positive irritation. 
 
 "Dean," Gifford coiicluded, "lias taken it very nnicli to heart ; 
 he told me, — he's à client of mine, a stupid idiot, who never 
 reasoned a thing out iu his life — he told me that 'not to be- 
 lle ve in, eternal- damnation wasto take a short eut to atheism." 
 He also coufided to nie that ' a church which could permit 
 such a falling froni the faith was in a diseased condition." I 
 don't believe tïiat opinion has reached Ward, however. it 
 would take more grit than Deaii possesses to dare to find fault 
 with John Ward's wife to her husbând." 
 
 " What folly !" cried the rector, his face tiushed with 
 annoyance. " What possessed Helen to say such a thing ! She 
 ought to hâve had more sensé. Mark my words, that speech 
 of hers will make-trouble for Ward. I don't uiiderstand how 
 Helen could be so foolish; she was brouglit up just asLois was, 
 yet, thank Heaven, lier head isn't fiill of whims about re- 
 forming a community. What in the world niade her express 
 such an opinion if slie had it, and what made her hâve it ?" 
 
 Dr. Howe had risen, and walked impatiently up and down 
 the room, and now stood in front of Gifford, with a forefinger 
 raised to emphasize his words, " There issomething so absurd, 
 so ùupIeaSâfît,Th a young Wôman's meddiing witîT îhiSgs^ 
 which don't belong^ to her, in seeing a little mind stniggle 
 with ideas. Better a thousand times settle doWu to look after 
 her housâhold, and cook her husband's'dinner, and be a good 
 cliild." 
 
 ^N 
 
 
lui? 
 
 •'OHX WARD, PlîEACHEK. • 
 
 what peopJe believe, o, Xr^h.'" • '""'""^ '« >' «f Lors 
 natter, provided she's a ,"S 4^1 » ' T' ''''•"'". f»'' hât 
 station of life where it hS. . S'"-, and does her dutv in fl,.^ 
 
 grapple with theolo-ical n Iti ^'f' »' ^hat slie tries tn 
 
 J^aid Helen had enough for thpm f r ^''"^^"^ "P^is salarv ^ 
 
 2 ^''^ r ^^°^^ ^« 4 mort IneVîr '" ' '"^ ^^^^^ ^ 
 their comfort; aiiything more ^h«7 .w ï'^ "««^««ary for 
 I^ord'spoor. Rloc,; * , ^? *^^an that belontra,] .,//v 
 
 ney had no right to any more Zn .f '"'' ^"^ ^d- 
 their comfort; anythii moreT^i^^ f^ «^cessary for 
 
 l>'emHy than most of usT « *^''™*' «^'"Pls rather more 
 "^'''Jf -- JohA W *dl S^-Oed, smiling. . that that 
 
 "Well no" Giff A ^ ^'^^^^- 
 
 '"^VH-é"^»"» WaS'?' "'™*^''» "'' '"«'""«" i "but 
 ThantHeavenraaidthe^ctor dévoua. 
 
 '*'?tl 
 
 
 
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 i: 
 
 
132 
 
 JOHN WAED, PKEACHER. 
 
 " But it is a mistake, ail the same," Giflord weiit on ; " it is 
 unbusiness-like, to, say nothing of being bad for lus people 
 to hâve the burden of support lifted from them ; it pauperizes 
 them spiritually." . 
 
 After the relief of this outburst against John Ward, Ih. 
 • Howe felt the inévitable irritation at his hearers. " Well,.I 
 only mention this," he said, "because, since he so strange, it 
 won'tdo, Gifford, for you tô abet Helen in this ndiculous 
 skepticism bf hers. It Ward agreed with lier, it would be ail 
 right, but so long as he does not, it will make trouble betweeii 
 them and a wonian cannot q^uarrel with an obstmate and 
 bigotéd man with impunity. And you hâve no business to 
 h^e doubts yourself, sir.'' ' -.,,., * 
 
 The two sisters were much impressed with what tlie rector 
 said " I musi really caution Giô"," said Miss Deborah lo 
 Lois "not t^ encourage dear Helen- in thiuking about 
 thin'os ; it's very unfeminine to think, and Giftbrd is so clever, 
 he doesn't'stop to remembèr she's but a woman. And he is . 
 areatly attached.to, her ; dear me, he has never fqrgotten what 
 mi^ht bave been,"— this in almost a whisper. 
 
 Both the sisters talked of Dr; Howe's anger.as they weiit 
 
 " He'a right," said Miss Deborah, who had dropped hei 
 nephew's arm, so that she might be cautions about the iiiud, 
 and who lifted her skirt on each side, as thougli she was 
 about to make a curtsy,— " he's right : a< woman ought to 
 think just as her husband does ; it is quite wrong m detu" 
 Helen not to, and it will bring unhappiiiess. ■ Indeed, it is a 
 lesson to ail ofus," she added. 
 
 Respect \îjas an instinct with Gifford, and he did not stop 
 to think, that. it was a lesson by which Miss Deborah would 
 have.BÔ'opportunity to profit. , ■ ^ . , ...^, 
 
 B^iit hfi was not listening closely to the chatter of the little 
 ^'-radies he was thinking of Lois's indifférence. " She even 
 
 .troke d ' faqred^ x)nce,' - hfr i l w u ghti-'^ kit tl i at do e s n ^i n e c esa 
 arily mean that she cares for Forsy the. I will trust lier. "^^^ ' 
 niav never love me,TJut she will never care for him." 
 
 /■ 
 
 X 
 
 She 
 
 .4*» 
 
 A\ 
 
•fOHN WAKD, PKEACHEU. 
 
 133 
 
 CHAPTEli XIV. . 
 
 Davis kuewwhat thlXeher?:^^^^^^^ ^^^s, 
 
 vation and judged her rc^rd ^.^^^^^ ^TK''^' 
 
 «elf, the hope Helen hid ai^^^ \ -T 5 ^"^ widow her- 
 
 ^ver, arfd refused evea to speak on f hp^'7- T' ^^"^'^ ^^^^^ 
 " Nn rna'ovv. »' i, • i ^P^^^ »» the subiGct. 
 JNo, inaam,' she said wearilv whpn ffoiL . . 
 îierafter the funeral — « no ^Ô^T'f • , " ^^"^ ^o see 
 Elder Deaa's been Se and iTnnw .1^'" ^- ^ "«« <^« talk. 
 
 you said was a comfort maln^ b^t !^^^'' ' 'v^ ^"P*"' ^hat 
 religion. It's in the BiWp S fï ."^^'î^*'^^' 'T wasn't 
 us^sayin' there sn V savin 1 '"' ' ? *^""' ^^^ ^h^re's no 
 it, Elder Dean says aid T .nîÏT ''''u ^'°'* ^««P "« ^^m 
 
 n^yself, and rQ^^ny rTS" "' '"" ^ ^^^ristian woman 
 dreary hopelesaness reasoning could mov? her 
 
 'Xîrb i^'-'HcKit l'hZibr;^"^^^ *" 
 
 Ue stroked her hair qnfflv « V V^ VV"foie i 
 •■M«. Davis is™ la^afir.h'™''^''^'^''-''''^»»''". 
 
 Judge of au thé earO, do right ^' '' *'"' **" ""' *« 
 
 < atp»blB 6 f aëiar ng Tom to hJl r k T? ^^ " ^ ''Umig ht G<)a= 
 
 tried tospeak, buTsS toto„id hlT" 'JS''' ^r" J<"^ 
 «t this again never i HaW. i . ^ .. * '"" "ever talk 
 
 ««mot béai it, Joh^ &^ ml'" ""■ '^ ^"'" '»"' "«^ I 
 
 ■:â. 
 
 AfSL.M *4i"si&.i>M^|rf-^&.j/jêu-*wï 
 
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 134 
 
 JONH WARD, PBEA^ffÉR. 
 
 I? ~ 
 
 lii^4 
 
 " Oh, Helën," he said, with teiider reproach, " would you. 
 hâve me conceal my deepest life from you ? It would seeni 
 like living apart. if there were one subject on which we dared 
 not touch. Just let me show you the truth and justice of ail 
 this ; let me tell you how the scheme of salvation niakes the 
 mystery of sin and punishment clear and right." • 
 
 " No," she said, the flush of pain dying out of her face, but 
 her eyes still shining with unshed tears. — " no, I cannot talk 
 of it. I should be ^yicked if I could believe it ; it would 
 make me wicked. îk>n't evér speak to me of it, John." 
 
 She came and put her arms around him, and kissed his 
 foreheadgently ; and then she left him to struggle with his 
 conscience, and to ask himself whether his delay had caused 
 this feeling of abhorïencej or whether the waiting liad been 
 wise and should be prolonged. 
 
 But Helen's words to Mrs. Davis were rèpeated, and ran 
 from mouth to mouth, with the strangest additions and âlter-. 
 . ations. Mrs. Ward had said that there was no hell, and ne* 
 heaven, and no God. What wonder, then, with such a leavèn 
 of- wickedness at work in the church, Elder Dean grew 
 alarmed, and in the bosom of his own family expressed his 
 opinion of Mrs. Ward, and at prayerAneeting prayed fervent - 
 ly for unbelievers, even though she was not there to profit by 
 it. €nce, while saying that the preacher's wifq was sowing 
 tares among the wheat, he met with an astonishing rebuff. 
 Alf^retta dared tell her father that he ought to be ashamed 
 of hîhiself to talk that way about a^ saint and an angel, if 
 ever there was one. 
 
 Mr. Dean was staggered ; a female, a young feraale, and his 
 (laùghter, to dare to say such.a thing to him ! He opened hi^ 
 mouth several times before he was able to speak. 
 
 Alfaretta was at home for her evening ont, and her yôung 
 man was with her, anxious for the clock to point to nine, that 
 he might " see her home." They had intended to leave the 
 elder's earlj%^and wander of f for a walk by the river, but ^my- 
 ers were delayed a lïttTë, andlifter thar ÀlfarettSTiad to listen- 
 to the good advice given every week ; so Thaddeus lost ail 
 hope of the river-walk, and only ;jiratched for nine o'clock, 
 when he knew*she must start. But in this, too, he was- 
 .doomeà to 4isappointment, for the outburst wjiich sq atuiined 
 . ^^ • . . .' ,•.'.., \ .À.--:.v' '1 
 

 î l^-T". 
 
 ('fii 
 
 JOHN AVARD, PREACHER. 
 
 135 
 
 the elder detained Alfaretta until after ten, thereby causing 
 Helen no litûe anxiety about her prompt and pretty maid. 
 
 The elder had closed his admonitions by warning his daugh- 
 ter not to be listening to any teachings of the preacher's wife, 
 for she was a babkslider, and she had fallen from grâce. " In 
 the first place," said the elder, laying down the law with up- 
 bfted hand, ** sheVa Episcopalian,— I heard her sav that her- 
 self, whenshe first corne hère ; and her letter of dismissal 
 was from a church with some l»opish name,— St. Eobert or 
 Stephen,-— I don't just remember. IVe seen one of thèse 
 churches. Thank the Lord, there isn't one in Lockhkven. 
 They hâve candies burnin', and a big brass cross. Eags of 
 Popery,— they ail belong to the ScarletWoman; I tell you! 
 But she's a backslider even from that, for they bave some 
 truth ; she's a ehild of the Evil One, with her unbelief !*' 
 
 This was more tKan Alfaretta could bear. " Indeed, pa," 
 she cried, " you dou't know how good she is, or you wouldn'b 
 be sayin* that ! Lqpk how she'» slaved this winter for the 
 fàmihes that 'a' been in trouble, havin' no work !" 
 
 "'T ain't what she's done, Alfaretta," said bel- father sol^ 
 emnly ; " works without faith is of no avail. What says the 
 Scnpture ? ' A man is justîfied by faith ' (bv faith, Alfaret- 
 ta i) ' without the deeds of the law.' And wïiat says the con- 
 fession ?" 
 
 Alfaretta, by force of habit, began to stumble through the 
 answer : " ♦ We cannot by our besfe works merit pardon of 
 sin, or eternal life at the hand~at the hand— of God, by rea- 
 Sonof" — Hère her memory failed her. * 
 
 " Well," her father said impatiently, " can't you remember 
 the rest ? ' Works done by unregenerate men are sinful, and 
 cannot pleàse God,' yod know. Go on." 
 
 J3ut Alfaretta could not go on, and the elder would not be- 
 tray his own lack of n^mory by attempting to quote. 
 
 'iSo you see," he contînued, " it isn't any use to talk of how 
 good and kind she is, ôl- what she does ; it is what she belîeves 
 
 that willsefctle he r ete i- naï t^il v atioft.! 
 
 But Alfaretta was unconvinced. •' Well, sir," she said stub- 
 bornly, "it don't sêem to me that way, foi^ she's the best. 
 ^oman, excépt mother, I ever saw. I reckon if anyboèly goes 
 to heaven, she will ; dpn't you, Thaddeua?" 
 
 
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 136 » 
 
 JOHN WAED, PItEACHER. 
 
 ■:f'î 
 
 Thaddeus was tilting back în his chair, his-curly black Jiead 
 against the whitewashed wall, andtfei^ suddenly and erdbar- 
 rassingly appealed to—fur he was divided betweén a désire 
 , to wiu the approval of the eîder and to show his^ dévotion to 
 Alfaretta— he, brought his chair dôwn with- a clattet of àll 
 four legs on the floor, and looked first at the father a/iid then 
 at the daughter, but did not speak. 
 
 ^' Don't you, Thaddeus ?" repeated Alfaretta «^verely, for 
 the elder was duinb with astonishment. 
 
 " Well," said Thaddeus, strug^ling 'for some opiuion whîch 
 should please ^f^^h,— " well, I do suppose we can hope for the 
 best ; that isnTagainst the catêchism." 
 
 But the elder did not notice his feeble eôtîfpromise, wjiile 
 Alfaretta only gave him a .quick, oontemptuons look, for her 
 father, openiiig and shutting his raouth slowly for a moment, 
 lïegan to say, — 
 
 *• How sharper than a serpent's liooth it is to hâve a child 
 that's unoTateful for the best of teaching'and sound doctrine !• 
 Many's the time," said the elder, lifting his eyés ' and hands, 
 — " many's tjae time l've showed her the truth ; many's the 
 time l've explained how every other sort of religion is ail 
 wrong, and is ^f its father the Devill And l've brought her 
 upfaithful to the catêchism aûd the confession, yet now the 
 child would iustïucÊ the parent ! ïhis cornes," Jie cried, be- 
 coming vefy angry, and beating his hand 'so violently upoii 
 the table that the family Bible fell with a crash to the floor, 
 from whieh Thaddeus lifted it,— " this cornes from your settin' 
 in the seat of thp the^ scomful, and bein' in the kitcheu of an 
 unbeliever ! You'll leave her ; do you hear me, Alfaretta ? 
 You'U leave her this day month. l'il perform my duty to my 
 child's soûl, even if Brother Ward's wife has to do her own . 
 cooking. Ye^, and l'U do my duty to Brother- Ward too, 
 though I u6e4.to think him a pious-young man. TU tell him 
 he has got tq couvert that woman's soûl. She's a corrupter 
 of youth, shé's a teacher of falle doctrines, -her tellin' Mrs. 
 Pftvis ther&wasn't a ny hell l ^sHe''^^— a Episcoi )alian, anshê 
 
 "Î5T SHèirexperience a change bf heart" dr th% Session wilî 
 take this matter in hand." 
 
 At thip terrible threat, even Alfaretta was speechlees, and 
 her motheir pijt twq shaking hands on her arm, and whispered, 
 ** Oh, Retttt, I wouldn't say no more ; it lùakes your pa angry.*1 
 
JOim WARD, PREACIIER. 
 
 137 
 
 ; " Yes," continued the elder, violently, "that woinan is the Jo- 
 nâh of the church, and she's got to be dealt with ; to save her 
 soûl, she's got to be discipljined, for the sake of every one that 
 .heard her false and lying totigiie. l'il hâve her brought be- 
 fore the Session and showed tjie truth, aud she shall be saved. 
 Tom Davis not in hell, indeed !" 
 ! Mr. Dean stopped for breatli. Alfaretta'.s courage came 
 
 back with^a i-ush. 
 
 " Listen to me," ciriod the young woman, stamping her foot 
 with excitement, for she was as angry as tlie elder himseh;— 
 . .*' hstefi to me ! How can you say such things about her ? 
 A samt and angel, if ever there was one. The Lord don't 
 send no one to hell, let alone such as her." An' any way, ï'd 
 i-athei- go to the bad place with her than stay with ail 'the 
 golden harps ançl crowns in the best sort of a heaven with 
 them as would keep her out, so I would 1" 
 
 Hère Alfaretta broke down, and bègan to cry. Thaddeus 
 • could not stand that ; he etjged up to her, murmurincr "I 
 wouldn't cry, Rétta,— I wouldn't cry." "' 
 
 But. she ônly g^ve the shoulder he touched a vicions shake, 
 and cned harder\ than ever, saying, "No— I— I bet you 
 wouldn't— you'd neyer — care." . 
 
 But Âlfaretta's dépense changed Mr. Dean's anger at the 
 snub he received frop the preachei-'s wife into real alarm for 
 his child's spiritual wôlfare. A daughter of his to say the 
 Loxd did not send soulà to hell ! 
 
 ." Alfaretta," hesaid,With solemn slowuesé, "you'd better 
 get your bunnet and go hWe. l'il see Mr. Ward about this ; 
 lus wife's done harm enough. You've got to leave her,— I 
 mean it. I wcfc't see her sfend my child to hell before my 
 very eyes.'' \, '' 
 
 •• Oh^ pa," Alfaretta entrea1;ed, choking and sobbing, and 
 
 brushing her tears away with ^e back of her hand, '' don't,— 
 
 • don't say nothin' to Mr. Ward, ijor take me away. 'T wasn't 
 
 ' her made me say those things'^ it was jiist my own self. 
 
 . DflR t t a k e ^e away." * \ 
 
 Did she ever say dnything to^ou about the Lord not 
 sendm' people to hell ?'' asked her father. 
 _"OIî,'' said Alfaretta, growing more and more frightenèd, 
 t ain't what she talks about; it's her bein' so good, au'"— 
 
 ♦ ■ *- ji 
 
 #* 
 
 X 
 
 
 
Vi^-' 
 
 138 
 
 JOHK WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 ^f«nS she ever," interrupted the elder, with slôw eitiphaais 
 to you r "" '^^ '^' ^""''^ ^'^ "'^ ««rid I'^"^ Davis to hdl. 
 
 Deratelv « l Sf u ' «ont know," she answered des- 
 
 pemtelj _ l don t kaow anything, except she's good.» 
 
 voiceî'SidMS ^^'^ ^^^^'^^ his harsh,^monotonou. 
 or the W. ÎS ; r» '''^'' «>^,^^>^<^hing to you about hèll. 
 
 ThLfhf t • ^^ ^'^^P^^ *^^^^^ • ' Answer me that." 
 of SPoTnh ^^''T^ ^'"^.' '"'^^°*^-"^id' t^^thful as the blood 
 her fa 5 Xt T T^ ' ^^'««y.^rian training could mZ 
 she cmilH fîl ^/^'^ î'^".^^ ^"^S remorse, and, for ail 
 
 wôrdtmeXTheÎL" ''^ "^^^^ ^^^^ «°^ «^^"^^ ^^-^ 
 fho^*'^!!'^'"^ ^^^"^^^ siiddenly to leave the elder's sàils but 
 of hef te-""'' '"V'^*^ °^^"^^"^' -^^ Alfaretta^ôlri^cî 
 waslt^o^œ ^« ^- -«^-^ 
 
 abouTw^/h î;^« ?!?• T""'l^l' ""^"^^ «l«^b' and looking 
 about with great digmty, ' If she hasn't said it to you, she 
 
 Davs and-' ''tZlV"'^,'^^^^^ ^'^ «^^ «-^ ^^ " ^^r' 
 &" andlnP T. ' '"^'^^ ^"' 'ïf *' ^"^ ^^^^ ^is head 
 fe?her nwu Tv ™f ^"*^. ^" ^^^^^ ^« ^^ke notice of it, 
 
 ter her own soul's own sake. and to open her husband's eves 
 
 ter tm S aîi "^'^ - f '^ ^^^'^ "^y P^^^«r» «^««t ail ;in. 
 oSside , ? "^ '''°''" ^^ prayer-meetin', preferrin' to stay 
 
 « « Where Binners meet, and awftil Bcoflfers dwell •? 
 hLlr TT^^ ' bivt"-thô elder raised his eyes piously to- 
 do no g^d '' ™'^ ^^'"' '"^ "^P"""^ "^"^ ^^*^^' b"^ it don'î 
 
 the fatoily good-night m an unsteady voice Thaddcua an vi 
 waiting for her, with a deprecating look on his round face. 
 
n^ 
 
 
 JOHN WARD,^ PREACHER. 
 
 139^ 
 
 In spite, lïqwever, of the&ldér's hidigoatiou and his really 
 genuine alariji* akjnt the influences which surrounded his 
 child,henad y prudent afterthought in the niatter of her 
 leaving tfee Semice of Mrs. Ward, Jt was difticult to get any- 
 thing in Lôckhaven for a young "wèmàn to do, and times were 
 hard thatyear, \ , " ; 
 
 '* You— ah— you needn't give notice to-nigîit, Alfaretta/' 
 he said. " l'il speak to the preachôr about it, myself But 
 mind you hâve as little to say to her as you ean, and may the 
 Lord protect you !" " . ^ 
 
 Blk^he elder's plans for.cautioning his pastor were doomed 
 to disappointment. He was a pi-isoner with lumbago for the 
 
 * next fortnight, and even the most sincère interesfe in some one 
 else's spiritual welfare cannot tempt a man out of the house 
 when he is bent almpst double with lumbago. Nor, when 
 John came to see hini, could he begin such a conversation as 
 he had planned, for his neck was too stiff' to allow him to 
 raise bis head and look in Mr. Ward's face. When he re- 
 coVered, he was delayed still another week, because the 
 preacher had gone away to General Assembly. 
 
 But Alfaretta was far too misérable to find in heï- father'g 
 
 jcommand '* not to give notice to-night" any ray of comfort. 
 Shechoked down her tea^s asbest she might, and started for 
 the parsonage. 
 
 . Thad^eus had almost to run to keep up with her, such 
 was, bertroubled and impatient haste, and she scarcely no- 
 ticed him, though he tmniped through thfe mud to show his 
 contrition, instead of taking his [.lace by her side on the board 
 walk. ^^ 
 
 It is curious to see how^/maple soûl inflicts useless pun- 
 ishment upon itself, wheâTthe person it bas offended refuses 
 to retaliate, Had Alfaretta scolded, Thaddeus would not hav& 
 walked in the mud. 
 
 Her silence was most depressing. 
 
 f' Eetta," he ventured timidly, "don't be mad with me,— 
 jftciwdQn't." 
 
 He came a little nearer, and essayed to put an arm about 
 her waist, a privilège often accorded him on such an occa- 
 sion. But now she flounced away from him, and said sharply, 
 '•Xou needn't be comin' round me, Mr.. Thaddeus Qreeiu 
 
 
 
 ./Ul, 
 
 W? 
 
^' 
 
 " 
 
 
 f 
 
 s ^ 
 
 t-ï" 
 
 1 f ■ 
 
 ir: 
 
 1*1 
 
 m- 
 
 110 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 you-^r Lrfî/sf soitro' iTr';" ?'-'' =°«' î; f "-» "■ 
 
 CHÀPTER XV. !► 
 
 of AnHl^r^'Tî"^ 1!^ "^^ "°°^^ <=« ^«hurst until the middle 
 
 
 A/^-f^'^i-ï/'' 
 
 .- 4 ^ 
 
•'4V 
 
 ' A- 
 
 JOHX WARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 ur 
 
 ~ V ) 
 
 with riiigs, and generally held some filmy faiicy-work. Her 
 invalidisiîi had only giveii her an air of interestins» fragility, 
 which niade Lois long to put her strong young arms abôut 
 her, to shieid lier lest any wind might blow' too roughly upou ' 
 her. , 
 
 Mrs. Forsythe accepted her dévotion with eomplacency. ' 
 She had never had this adoring tenderness from her SQn, who 
 had heard her remark that she was'at the gâtes of d^th too 
 often, to live in a state of a'uxiety ; but to Lois her gentle rés- 
 ignation and heavenly anticipations were most irapreséive. 
 The girl's affection almost reconciled the elder lady to having 
 béen made to conie to Ashurst while the spow still lingered 
 in sheltered spots, and bèfore the crocuses had lighted their 
 golden censers in her garden ; for Lois' went to see her every 
 day, and thou^i she could not ahvays escape without-% inean- 
 ing look from the invalid, or a sigh for Dick's future, "she 
 thoroughly enjoyed her visits. It was charming to sit in thé 
 dusk, before the dancing fiâmes of an apple-wuod firci, the air 
 fragrant with the hyacinths and jonquils of the window^gar- 
 den, and listen to taies of Mrs. Forsythe's youth. 
 
 Lois had never heard such stories. Mrs. Dale would hâve 
 said it was not proper for young girls to know of loye affairs, 
 and it is presuniable that the Misses Woodhouse neve^- had 
 any to relate ; s6 this was Lois's first and only chance/and 
 she would sitj clasping her knees with her hands, listening 
 with wide, frank eyes, and cbeeks flushed by the tire and the 
 taie. • 
 
 " But then, my poor healtli," Mrs. Forsythe ended with a 
 sigh, one evening, Just before it was time for Lois to go ; " of 
 course it interfe rtd v(iy mucli ^^ 
 
 " Why, were you ill thaï," Lois said, " when you used to 
 dajice ail night ?" 
 
 " Oh, dear me, yes," .inswered the other shakiiTg her head, 
 " I havelbeen a suft'erer ail my life, a great sufferer, Well, it 
 cannot last much longer ; this poor body is almost wqrn out.^' 
 
 -" Ôh,' (?t)tt'^ -say^it f -Laom -efied,- and 1^ flie wbite s 
 
 1^^ 
 
 hand with its shining rings, in ail the tenderness of her young , 
 heart. ; 
 
 AH this endeared the girl Very uiuch, and more than onc^ 
 Mrs. Forsythe ^rote of her sjreetness and goodiiess to her 
 
 
 •M> 
 
 '» 
 
 n% 
 
 «1 
 
 -^: 
 
 
 
 •!»» 
 
 rM, 
 
 
 
 
 1'^ 
 
 
 fjLs.'« 
 
 W^^ft 
 
\f 
 
 .■* 
 
 142 
 
 JOHN WARP, PIJEACHER. 
 
 H(^wever, Dick still lin-éred ',,.,1 t • • • , 
 her anticipation of the evilt.W ',, ' ' u^J'''^^*^' ^"^ even 
 nve and end her peace fui dZ ]T' ^'^^^ ^^ «^ould a,^ 
 ■contentment. R Sa mes? V"^'' "V' î^^^^ ^^^ P^^^»^^»^ -* 
 P ainable joy of tl.e ^ ir'î ^^ ^^J' -f *' f^^f -^btle!^ inex- 
 f ive: Lois ranibled abont m. r '\o^''^^ness even to be 
 
 ien, and carryimr onv iîlL u """^"^ ^^«"^^orm the «ar- 
 
 f he's sick-ro'on"^ Th'e mStst "'''''' ''"^ ^'^ ^^«- *«- 
 ènngs, bubbling un unde thr spongy with small 
 
 f downdillies showed bnminc, tu^^ 'f^T ^'^''' ^he daff- 
 fetened-Iookifi. violetf brlrh/"''n^"^^ ^"^ ^^^ V^^^, 
 Mng life to the\j;;^ Tapp^'et "" ^'"^ «yster/of uni 
 
 /of g-; 'h%S^^^^^^ wa..lool^„, for the bunch 
 
 A)ench, she was espectllv 1?.^/^^'^' ^.'^'' ^^''^' ^he stone 
 
 first week in June flhan n l^ '?^ '^^^^^ ^^ ««ade the 
 Helen wrote, " becau^e I Z^nX - ^^' ^ ^"«^' :5^«« know," 
 
 than that and I muTbe^Tk t^orS3/r • ''^'^ ^^"^^- 
 More than this, Mrs iWsvthP hL • ^^"^^«^«''^^y. too. ' 
 timt poor dear Dick^ businèrip^oi^ '?^^^' and told her. 
 such a shame I And Sans hp on u ^° *^'^° ^^°^ ' ^^ ^as 
 ■ -. tonight. So I^s &;as a vert T' ^^ ^^«^^«t for 
 prl standing under thé s^Se of t7e A^SJ T^ 'T''''''^ 
 }ng her flock of white «iapon^ wL V ^^"^ ^^^^ ^nd watch- 
 gabîe of.the red trn^'^whWe H^^ 
 ykgamedastrongervoicesirpftthi '^^^^ '.^''^^°^' ^^^ich had 
 / ferqusly at her si^ f hf i "F"''» "^'^«' *>abbled voci- 
 
 .;#•;■■' 
 
 gap m the hed^"" '"" " ' "" " "<"' "î* "^ gaidiug Bef-fSo.pT 
 
•'#" 
 
 JOHN WARD, PUEACHEU. 
 
 143 
 
 .rvé foî^r ''' ''''" ^'' ^"'''''''' ' " aruWook at the flowers 
 She tippéd the basket of scentetl grass on her arm that Iim 
 
 Forgytl e would be présent at thè whist parfcy that ni^^ht and 
 
 he ha7lost htn h' learn timt jK.¥as n'ot able to t.n '; 
 fi| had lost his hand the week befcife,y,ecause she had arrived 
 with the Dales. Then he,inquiied about her son's arr val 
 
 was to some people. Lois and that yOtïn- man ' Whv 
 it were ^ ' ,^^^^^^^PÎ?'^éement settled itself, as 
 
 _ He walked abstractedly towtrds iis hoïise. wrestlina with 
 the old puzzle. Nothing helped hini, or threw li'ht oirhis 
 
 thought struck him; there was.certainly one way out o his 
 ^iffiçulties he could ask ^tice. He could lay the who e 
 matter frankly before some dispassionate' person/whoL Tudg! 
 
 aW fnH i ^^^r^^r « ^«« brightened ; he walked gÂ^ 
 along, and begah to hum to himself :— ^^^ 
 
 _ ' " Ob, wert thou, love, but near me, . - - > 
 
 Bat near, near, near me, ' « 
 
 Howfondly wooldstthoucheerme^'— " 
 
 Hère he stopped abruptly. Whorn should he ask ? He went 
 mS^^ad:^'^^^*^^^ '^^''' friends, as hè trudged ^;S^ 
 ^ot Dt Howff: hé dia ïicft takeM serions enciugh view of 
 suchthihgs; Mr. ïVner recalled t^t scenrihvhit ^ 
 his httle face btïrned. Then, there was Mrs Me : sKs^a 
 woman and of course she would know the merits of eaTh of 
 S^iT^l ^;!^;^ a^^#d not always seem i^ln 
 
 say tliings which were not. perUaps, perfectly courteous ; that " 
 ^he sisters had been able to défend themselvel, Mr. Donner 
 overlooked. Colonel Drayton : well, a man with' diB goût îs . 
 
 fN-. 
 
 
 ;3-,' 
 
 'h' 
 
 '-M 
 
 \ 
 
 i,4j,^ï,fowt'^ 
 
 l%Uc • > i.ifSik.,ii^£M^ 
 
# 
 
144 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 ■«c 
 
 not the coiifidant for a lo^er. He was beginning to ^ook de- 
 pressed again, when the lignt cdine. Henry Dale ! No one, 
 coiild be bettet.j; , - 
 
 Mr. Denner awaited the eveiiing with impatience. Hq 
 would walk home with the Dales, l^e thought, and then he and 
 Henry could talk it ail over, down in the study. 
 
 île was glad when the cool spring night began to close, 
 full of that indefînable fragrance of fresh earth and growing 
 tliings, and before it was tirae to start he cheered himself by 
 a little music. He weiit into the dreary, unused'parlor, and 
 puUiug up the green Venetian blinds, which rattleà like 
 castanets, he pushed back the ivy-fastened shutters, and sat 
 down by the open window; then, with his chin listing iipon 
 his fiddle, and one foot in its drab gaiter swinging acrôss his 
 knee, he played mournfully 'and shrilly in the twilight, until 
 it wàs time to st»vb. . • 
 
 He sawthe Misses Woodhouse trotting toward the recjtor}', 
 with Sarah walking in a stately way behind them, swinging 
 her unlighted lantern, and cautioning thém not to step in°the 
 mud. But he niade no effort to joinXthera ; it was happiness 
 enough to contemplate the app^çoacHing solution of his diffî- 
 culties, and say to himself ^^mphantly, " This time to- 
 môrrow !" and he began M (Mly to play, " Ye banks and 
 braes 0' bqnnie Doon," renlering carefully ail the quavers in 
 that quavering air, X^ 
 
 Mr. Benner's medita^ons made him late at the rec^tory, 
 and he felt Mrs. D^e Jook sternly at him ; so he made haste' 
 to deal, sitting well forward in his chair, under which he 
 tucked liis little ieet, and puttirig down each card with 
 lieryous care. His^^rge cuffe almost hid his small, thin hands, 
 and no w and then he paiised to rub his thumb and forefinger 
 togethér, that the cards might not stick. ' ' ° . 
 
 But Mr. Denner did not pay well that night ; Miss 'Pebo- 
 rah looked at him with mild reproach, and was almost àngry 
 when he answered her with an absent smile. 
 
 The evening seemed very long to Mr. Denner/ and even 
 when the partyj ifl d s a i d " Good-night" Mr. Dale waa ,s la w 
 
 about getting off; he put his wife into' the carriage, and then 
 stopped to ask Dr. Howe if he had the first édition of "Japheb 
 in Search.of a Father?" 
 
 \ 
 
 
 SA^- 
 
 
^7^ n" t 
 
 •JOHN VVAHD, PBEACHER. 
 
 145 
 
 lier walked silentlv dmvn fi,« i ""^î- -^^^^^ ^nd Mr. Deii- 
 a suffocated feelirn^ and nZ^ Z , . '^^^'^^"^^nt, thac lie had 
 
 Mr. Uale, still absorbed iii his first '«lifinn tv. i 
 stndes, the taik of l,is brown clott o^èrcoat XnnT'*'"? 
 twistmg about his lon.r thin Ipo, m.' n ""PPinS «nd 
 
 then ahnost to break Sto aV^^'Ho k^eb^^TluXû'"" '"'' 
 
 Ms*!;icïïLSar •: h'i? s^nf P ^"'» ™^"". - 
 
 chance than si 'ht He sZà'ZJ ,"", Pf* ™"' '»'"•'' by 
 
 Denner broath, and a chance to speal? ^ ^""^ «"^ ^r. 
 
 1 thmk I will jvalk home with vou Hi.nrv " h„ J • i 
 want to hâve a talk with you " ^' '"' **"'■ " ^ 
 
 mittedWn""^"' " '" =^''^"'"'' "« '«" '- had com. 
 ,_ Oh, quite diHerent.-quitè diHerent^' ■ ""'«'^'"• 
 
 cotoingand^L, .^.rai or;e'.^f4eTd'eSr: 
 
 =5fes 
 
 <lencewtl,„„eli;;rL^Z^»,towtt°î^ 
 
 '.r 
 
 
 
 •!''v*, 
 
 ^^^^^^ 
 

 
 a8»ft«asiii'«.««.ki 
 
 JOHN WA^ID, PREACHER. 
 
 146 
 
 "No," murmured Mr. DifOe, " perhaps not, but I can 
 
 imagine it." „ -^ , , ^\. e^^ 
 
 When they reached the iron gâte of Dale house, they tol- 
 lowed the trim path acrpss the lawn to the north side ot the 
 house. where it ended in a little walk, three bricks wide, laid 
 end to end, and so damp with perpétuai shade, they were 
 sUppery with green mould, and had tufts of moss between 
 
 Mr Dale's study was in a sort uf half basement, one went 
 down two steps to reach the doorway, and the Windows, set 
 in thick stone walls and alniost hidden in a tangle of wist- 
 aria, were jus^bove the lével of the path. , . ., , ., 
 
 The two old men eniered, :Mr. Dale bending lus tall white 
 head a little; and while the lawyer unwouiïd a long blue 
 muffler from about his throat, the host lighted a lamp, antl, 
 getting down on his knees, blew the dini embers m the rusty 
 Irate into a flickering blaze. Then he pulled a blackened 
 oranefrom the janib, and huug on it a dinted brass kettle • 
 so that he niight add soine bot water to Mr. Denner«s gm and 
 sugar, and also make himself a cup of tea. That done, he 
 tookoffhisoveicoat, throwing it across the mahogany arm 
 of the horsehair sofa, which was piled with books and 
 pamphlets, and whitened hère and there witn ashes trom his 
 silver pipe ; then he kuotted the cord of his flowered dressing- 
 eown about his waist, spread his red sUk handkerchief over 
 hia thin locks, -end, placing his feet comfortably upon the 
 high fender, w^ready for conversation. 
 
 Mr Denner, meanwhile, without waiting for the formality 
 of an invitation, went at-once to a sniall corner closet, and 
 brought'out a liât, dark bottle and an old silver cup. He 
 poured the contents of the bottle into the cup, added some 
 sugar, and lastly, with a sparing haud, the hot water, sturing 
 it round and round with the one teaspoon which they shared 
 
 between them. . ■ , , , ^^i 
 
 Mr. Dale had produced a battered caddy^andsoonthe 
 — îïinïés ôf gin- and tea raingle*^micabiy-togeth«p^^^---^- — -= 
 " If I could always hâve such evenings as this, Mr. Denner 
 
 thoui^ht, sipping the hot gin and water, and crossing his legs 
 
 comforlably. " I should not hâve to think of— something 
 
 diflerent." 
 
 
 't ' 
 
 J #-.,v 
 
 Yji.,„ .. 
 
 ii&f'^ 
 
 
 
^ 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEB. 
 
 147 
 
 his minci. « A hou^e w Lnf « ,? T^^^ '^^' "Ppermost in 
 
 hi'ltS^h'irdt^^^^^^^ f • f^^^«. ^--d baek iu 
 
 slender pipe drift lev^forTln ".^'' ^}''? '"^^^« ^««1 W=^ 
 draught,7rawTp thelhfmney ^'"'' '"' ''^^' "" - -^^^It 
 
 grow ôlde? ^f ^,^""*"^"^«^ï' "I feel ic more and 
 ^Luse vi J ^ "«^^d-jh-brightness and 
 a^Wuse. \es, I need it. And even if I were 
 it were myself, I don'tknow but what mv 
 ^^, jould niake me-ah— think of it " ^ 
 
 was gazing at the fire. " Think of what ? " he 
 
 more as I 
 comfort in 
 not iuteres, 
 •duty to 
 
 Mr. Da 
 said. 
 
 ness for me, Henry and ^n Ht l ^ '^^- ^^'« ^«"«^i- 
 you understand." ^' ' ^^'^' a_person-a-a female- 
 Mr. Dale looked at him 
 
 Itn^l' ^ ^ ""^^^ '^^' ^ ^i^«' Henry." 
 
 lipfheXtr^ditnrhrd'^ ^^^ ^t.^^-- ^- 
 
 sat looking at Mr Dennpr In Vu *''^' ^^ ^^« «^^ir, and 
 that the little genLman stum^^^^^^^ ^""^'^ astonishment, 
 the felief of speaking '^^«^^^^^ «^^^ ^Qy words, simply for 
 
 been thînking of it '' ^ ^ "^ ^^^ ^^* ^«^' ^es-I hâve 
 his'îhro''af ' '''"'"'^^"^^ ^^ ^^"^' ^"^d« - -articulate noise in 
 
 ^' 
 
 liflliHjl-" 
 
 ■.a?. 
 
 w* ' 
 
 D onn er ," s ai d Mr. 
 
 OTe Sôlemoly, " you're a fool 
 e. Jlenrv ' nriûri t-u,^ „4.i » • 
 
 it w e re,"--> ^ 
 
 " If you mean m^age He„v"3 ^T \'?"'': ' 
 
 é 
 
 l;iir..km^^'i' 
 
 ,,«■»''.''. ;^iw ' 
 
148 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 ■ '4 
 
 —are qiiite ^y âge. And for Willie's sake, I doubt if it is 
 not a-*-a duty. And I am only sixty-one and a half, Henry. 
 You did not remen;ber, -perhaps, that I was so much younger 
 than you ?" 
 
 Mr. Dale pulled off bis red haiidkerchief, and wiped his 
 forehead ; aftér which he said quiet violently, " The devil !" 
 
 " Oh," remonstrated Mr. Denner, balancipg his mug on his 
 knee, and lifting his hands deprecatingly, "not such words; 
 we are speaking of ladies, Henry." 
 p' Mr. Dale was silent. 
 
 " You bave no idea," the other continued, " in your com- 
 Ibrtable house, with ., à gbod wiie, who makes you. perfectly 
 happy» how lonely ^ man is who lives as I do ; and 1 can tell 
 you, the older he grows, the more he leels it. So really/ a^e 
 is a réason for considering it," 
 
 *' I was not thinking of âge," said Mr. Dale feebly. 
 
 "Well, then," replied the other ^-iunipjiantly, " âge is the 
 oniy objection thatcould be urged. Aman is happier and better 
 for female influence; and the dinners I bave are really not — 
 Bot what tjhey should be, Henry. That would ail be changed 
 if 1 had a— ah— wife." 
 
 ■ " Dénner," said his friend, " there are circumstances where 
 a dinner of herbs is more to be desired than a stalled ox, you 
 wOl remember." 
 
 " That is just how I ^eel," said "the other eageriy, and too 
 much interested in his ,t)wn anxieties to see Mr. Dale's point. 
 " Mary is not altogether amiable." 
 
 Again Mr. Dale was silent, " 
 
 " I knew you would see the — the — desirability of it," the 
 lawyer continued, the liush of embarrassment fading away, 
 " and so I decided to ask your advice. I thoùght th^tr^iot 
 orily from your own— ah — heart, but from the ,novels and 
 taies you read, you would beable to advise rae in any matttei" 
 of esteem." 
 
 Mr. Dale groaned, and shook his head ïrom side to si(îi&. 
 But, good Lord Denner, books are one thing, life's 
 
 4»=^ 
 
 efiothérT You "caiiTili vè in a bOôk,^ïan 
 - " Just so," said Mr. Denner, "just so; but I only vvaiit the 
 benefit of your expérience in reading thèse taies of — ah — 
 romance. You see, hère is my trouble, Henry, — I caunot 
 makç up my mind." 
 
 ■ .*■ ^■ 
 
./''-^■îJl'-^.-^'X-r^-(l-f 
 
 JOHN WARD, TREACHER. 
 
 149 
 
 <f 
 
 ' To do it ?" cned Mr. Dalè. with animation, 
 liut Mr. Denner mterrupted him with a polite oeatur^ 
 xXo, I shall certainly do it. I did not mean toCisLSd Vou 
 , I^shaU certamly do it, but I cannot make upl^^'S 
 
 "Whichr'saidMr. Dalevaguely. • ' ^ 
 
 " Yes," answered the little gentleman, " which Of coursf^ 
 you know that I refer to the Misses wJodhouse You mu t 
 hâve noticed my attentions of late. for I hâve shovvn a ïï-ëat 
 deaL of attention to both; it has been very marked^Tet 
 
 advise me." esceem,— l telt sure you coiild 
 
 speV'"^^^"'^ '^"^^ '"^^ ^'' Me's face, but he' did not 
 
 resSSntV of'nJv^ """^^ l'>f ^''^'' «^ i^' ^«^ that the 
 responsi0ility of choice was shifted toMs frieud's shouldprJ 
 
 the lawyer, taking a last draught Wn th^Sver S^^^^^ . 
 
 inh7s^i^T'"P'^,°" ^' ?able,leaneTcomfortaw/ bSk '' 
 m his chair to await the décision . ^ 
 
 sav^u^" oT/ ^^""„«il«"^« ; «n«« Mr. Denner broke it by 
 
 iuSnt^lTlT' ^r^' ^'"^ ''' '^' importance ot careful 
 juagment, and then thej were still again '' . * 
 
 chat mYï; ^^^' ""^l^î ^ L""^ «^^' straightened up in hii : 
 chaif. He hfted his white fluted china tea-eup, which had ' 
 
 'nt handt' td tok' '^"^'^^ 1 «^"^- overî'a^d a'worn 
 oUt nanaie, a|id took a pmch of tea from the caddv • fhan 
 
 " Dernier," he saW slowly, « wliich advice do you wànt-rl' 
 
 ■ ? 1^ ■?^„^„_ y^rd"?'''"" «» to "»e first question "' ^ • ,- 
 he Jded„« WeU "_ ^^^T'hen, a moment afterwards. 
 
 ex^m^r'm''*'' *' '•J' *^"°'*' "i* «y«» Mining «ith 
 exatement. "Itw veiy important to me, Henry," hes^r 
 «ith a faltermg voioe. '" ToV wU! keèp that KinS'H^ 
 
 l^lt 
 
 "X 
 
 • . 
 
 • . %f^ 
 
 ^.hiia'.'lp^ 
 
 1 »3»\lAtVl.l W,.'-S«''^ 
 
 iifW.5ï..Ç;.l(?''»'|i,\ 
 
 ^(f.,!'^ •Jt^^ 
 
 I.J"^.'l 
 
150 
 
 JOHN WARD. PREACtlER. 
 
 #' 
 
 sure. They are both so'admirablé,and yet — there must ISe some 
 choice. Miss Deborah's houaçkeeping — you ktiow there's no 
 such cooking in Ashurst ; and she's very economical. But 
 then, Miss lîuth is artistic, and"— hère a fine wavering blush 
 crej^ over his Jjttie face—" she is — ah — pretty, Henry. And 
 the money is equally divîdefl,'' he added,with a visible effort 
 to return to practicrttthings. , : 
 
 " I know. Yes, it's ver}' puzzling. Oh the whole, Benner, 
 I do nof see how I can advise' you." 
 
 Mr. Deuner seemed to suffer a collapse. 
 
 " "Why, Henry," he quavered, " you must hâve an opinion ?" 
 
 " No," Mr. Dale answered thoughtfully, *1 cannot say that- 
 I hâve. Now, I put it to you, Denner : how could I décide 
 on the relative merits of Miss Ruth aiïd Miss Deborah, seeing 
 that I hHve no affection, only respect, for either of them ? 
 Affection ! that ought to be your guide, Which do you hâve 
 most afîfection for^" 
 
 "Why, really " — said Mr. Denner, "really" — and he 
 stopped to think, looking hard at the . seàl ring on ^is left 
 hand — "I am afraid it is justthe same, if you call it affection. 
 You see that doesn't help us," 
 
 He had identified Mr. Dale's interest with his own anxiety 
 looked wistfully at the older man, who seemed sunk in. 
 thought and quite forgetful of his présence. Mr. Denner put 
 one hand .to his lips and gave a littJe cough. Then hé said :— 
 
 " One would think there wo\ild be a rule abput such things,. 
 some acknowleged method ; a proverb for instance ; it woùîd 
 simplify matters very much." 
 
 " True," said Mr. Dale. 
 
 " Yes," Mr. Denner added, " you would think in such a 
 genwal thing as mairiage there would be. Complications like 
 this must constantly arise. What if Miss Deborah and Miss 
 Euth had another sister ? Just see how confused a man might 
 be. Yes, one would suppose the wisdom of expérience would 
 take the form of an axiom. But it hasn't." 
 
 He sighed deeply, and rose, for it was late, and the little 
 -fi re had bu rned^^tttr 
 
 Mr. Dale bent forward; with his elbows on his leau knees, 
 and gently kriocked the ashes from his silyer pipe. The» he 
 got up, anâ, standing with his back to the cold grate, and the 
 
 
 \.J ^v' 
 
s?"" 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 tails of his flowered dressing-gown under each carm in a comy 
 tortable way, he looked at the lawyer, with his head a little 
 on one side, as though he were aboùt to speak. Mr. Denner 
 noticed it. 
 
 1' w 'i7.?" cannot make any suggestion, Henry ?" 
 Well said Mr. Dale, " it^seems to me I had a thought— 
 a^ jort^ of a proverb, you might say— but it slips my me- 
 
 Mr. Donner, with his overcoat half on, stood quite stiU. 
 and trembled. . ' 
 
 " It is something about how to make up your raind," Mr. 
 Uale contmued, very slowly ; " let me see." ^ - 
 
 " 5®w 16 make up your mind ?" cried Mr. Denner: " That's 
 just thethmg ! l'm sure, thafs just the thing ! And we can- 
 not but hâve the greatest confidence in proverbs. They are 
 so emmently trustworthy. They are the concentrated wisd3m 
 --ot--of the âges, as it were. Yes, I should be quite wiUing 
 to décide the mjatter by a proverb.'' 
 
 He looked at Mr. Paie eagerly, but this especial pièce of 
 wisdom still eluded the older man." 
 
 "Itbegins/'saidMr. Dale, hesitating, and fixing his eyes 
 upon the ceilmg,— " it begins— let me see. ' When in doubt ' 
 — an — 
 
 "Whatisit?" gaspedMr. Denner. "ThatJhas a familiar 
 
 ^^Vc°âr ,ï^* ^ °^^°^* ^®®™ *^ finish i<^- When in "doubt, what ?•* 
 
 Well, answered his friand. ruefully,«itis not quite— it' 
 
 does not exactly apply. I am afraid it won't help us out. 
 
 lou know the rest. It is merely— ' take the trick ' î" t- 
 
 
 Xk^ 
 
 >'i^ 
 
 :\ 
 
 / ■• 
 
 
 •M, 
 
 iffBf ^«^ St3»<itf 
 
 / 
 
 ..VïîStaÉl 
 
 . '&.■:,■*:!?.■ 
 
 m 
 
452^ JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 \/ 
 
 
 GHÀPTEïfxVI. 
 
 ^HE morning after John Ward's r«^urruÉ-om histwo weeks' 
 abçnce fft General Assembly, he found it hardto settledown 
 tojvork. Not that there was verynmch tb talk about. for 
 daijy letters li^d told of daily doings, but to be with Heleii 
 aga|ii wasanabsorbingjoy. She follawed him about as he 
 put[ his papers away, and he, in turn, came eut into the 
 garden to watch herwhile phe, showed Alfaretta where to 
 plant sonie flower seeds. 
 
 " ^P"ie over hère," Helen said, " and see thèse violets under 
 the big elm ! 1 hâve been so in hopes they would blossom in 
 tune to welcomeyou. Lôt's pick some for^he study." 
 
 They pushed the shining, wet leaves aside, and found the 
 
 flçwers and then John watched his wife put them in a shal- 
 
 loW dish on his table. ' 
 
 " It is weak in me to corne „. 
 
 *M know you ought to work, yet 
 
 " This is Thursday," he answer^ 
 on the train yeàterday, so after I 
 can afford to be lazy. I cannot bear to fiave 
 
 I^re," Helen said smiling. 
 tire I sit." 
 
 and I wrote my sermon 
 lave œpied the reports I 
 
 sight !" He drew hër brown head down on his shoulder, and 
 stroked her^fac:) softly. " When l'm away ,from y6u, Helen, 
 1 seem only half alive.' - 
 
 "/"*^ ^^j^^''^^ weeks I hâve to go .tç Ashurst," -she said 
 ruefully. '• It is too bad I could n't ha\«fe gone whilè you were 
 at (gênerai Assembly, but it would n't hâve been right for 
 us both to be away from the personage at oflce." 
 
 " No. Well, we hâve the three weeks^yet. Yes,' I must send 
 pu away and get at the reports. How you brighten this 
 room Helen ! I think it must be the sunshine that secijis 
 l u ght in your ^ï^Ife^gfeamffiike, bronze oak-leaverlïr 
 October." ., \ 
 
 . "Love has done wonderful thingi for your eyes, John," she 
 said, smiling, as she left him. 
 
 39^ J. 
 
 Shep 
 
 imder tl 
 
 the fresl 
 
 " We' 
 
 «heerily 
 
 •tiums n 
 
 moroing 
 
 she noti( 
 
 ■<fown th 
 
 "He 1 
 
 in !" and 
 
 big bail 
 
 clinched 
 
 Helen 
 
 stiffly up 
 
 mory. A 
 
 lean her 
 
 "Alfa 
 
 , if you pl( 
 
 stick, an( 
 
 * W^gn 
 
 vously. ' 
 
 ru seé'yi 
 
 " Yes, 
 
 not now. 
 
 preacher, 
 
 sun,'' he ', 
 
 " I gu( 
 .awful bus 
 
 " I gue 
 
 Alfaret 
 the gatew 
 had begu 
 said, with 
 
 "Why, 
 will see yi 
 ^ean?" 
 
 Mr. Des 
 see me. C 
 You c 
 
 ** Isayhe 
 
fit- 
 
 "1» 
 
 JOHN WARD, PR^ACHER. 
 
 153 
 
 She put on her heavy gloves and brouglit lier trowel from 
 imder the front porch, and she and the maid began to dig up 
 tliQ fresh, damp earth on the suriny side (jî the hoiise 
 
 i"We'U:,have some-sweet-peas hère, Alfaretta," she said 
 «heerily, " and I thinTj it would be nic^ to let the nastur- 
 tiums run over that log, don't you ? Andyou must plant thèse 
 morunig-glory seeds around the kitchen Windows." Suddenly 
 she noticed that Alfaretta, instead of listenincr 
 
 gazino; 
 
 tfown th^ road, and her round freckled face flushinahotly 
 
 '' He shàVt corne in," she muttered,— " he shJRL't C(Jme 
 m ; and droppnig the hammer, and the box of tacks, and the 
 big bail oftwine, she hurried t^o the gâte, her rough hands 
 clinched into two sturdy fists. * *' ^ 
 
 Helen looked towards the road, and- sàw Mr. Dean corne 
 stiffly up to the gâte, for lumbago was 'uot altogether a. me- 
 mory Alfaretta reached it as he did, and as she stooped- to 
 lean her elbows on its top bar she slipped the latch inside. " 
 Alfaretta," said her father ponipously, " open the gâte 
 it you please." As he spoke, he rapped upon it witli his heavy 
 stick, and the little latch clattered and shook. 
 
 * W^re you coining to see me, pa ?" the girl asked ner- 
 vously. " I—rni busy this moriiing. It's my night out, so 
 1 11 see you this eveninV 
 
 " Yes, l'U see you," returned Mr. Dean significantly, " but 
 not iiow. I did n't corne to see you now ; Pm hère to see the 
 preacher, Alfaretta. Corne, don't keep me out hère in the 
 sun, • he added impatiently, shakiiig the gâte again. 
 
 " \ «^^^^^. ^^'s too busy tb see you this morning,— he's 
 •awful busy. • ^ o. 
 
 '• I guess he's not too busy to see ine." said the elder. • 
 Alfaretta'S face was white now, but shestill stood ban™ 
 
 thegateway. ".Well, you can't see him, anyhow ;" her voicS 
 
 had begun to tremble, and Mrs. Ward, who hrid joined them. 
 
 said, with a surprised look,— 
 
 " Why, what do yon mean, Alfaretta ? Of course Mr. Wanl 
 
 ^"V^^yoHlfetM^ I hope J^ûur luiabago is .bettôr, Elder - 
 
 Mr. Dean did not notice her question. " Certainly he will 
 see me. Corne, now, open the gâte ; be spry." 
 
 " You can't see him !" cried Alfaretta, bursting into tears.- 
 1 8ay he won't see you, so there !" ^ . 
 
 mi^'._- 
 
 "iAJ 
 
 ■i 14.S '^,t^*i 
 
 * . 
 
m 
 If ■ 
 
 ^^^ . JONH WARD, PREAGHER. 
 
 ru,?^v ';;!«*î^es8'Jl^ked a^ her in astonishraent, but her father 
 put his bi^ handoyer the j^ate. and. wrenching the liK?ch 
 open strode up to the front door of the parsonage. 
 Welen and her maid looked at each other : Alfaretta's fac«- 
 
 turned back to her planting. ■ 
 
 Alfaretta followed her, Sfid, kneeling down by the border 
 
 'Pufherhaf;''V'';^ "^"'^^"^' blades^f grass^Lp^i^g^^^^^ 
 put her hand up to her eyes once in a while! which made hér 
 ^^^f singularly streaked and muddy. 
 
 coldlT L'' }^f '''^"^'' Alfaretta ?" Helen asked. at last, 
 "^^t^^^^::^ ^-^^^"^> butshe was troubled 
 Alfaretta wailed. 
 
 shoulder. Are you erying because you said what was not 
 
 '' 'T ain't that!" sobbed Alfaretta. 
 
 TT*.iir • ^^^"' ^'""^ "^""^'^ ^^**^^^ «^«P' «^ 80 into the house." 
 ?rorh T'' ^«f,«*^"^' '^"^ Alfaretta looked at her with re- 
 SeS hi'r^i^''" fT""» *^^^ ^^^^ ^ith her hands, she 
 ^' riX^T'i' ^"1 ^?r'^'' ^°^ ^^P* ^i^»^«"t restreint, 
 hère !'^ "' '"'^ ^^'' ^'"""'^ ^« ^^'^^. «^^ ^^^^ ^rom 
 
 worktoTa^IlT '" ^'^'" ''^^' '^"P"^^^- " ^^^ ' I« ^he 
 " No— no, ipa'am " Alfai-etta answered, choking. 
 ni ^^ T ^^^ ^°^ "^ °"^^'" H®len said. 
 
 ^mv h^n J .' ^^^^''f^ ^"l^' "^^^^^l^S h^^ mistress's skirt with 
 grimy hand i, don t go ; 't won't do any good." 
 
 Dont )e foolish," Helen remonstrated, smilinsf: «of 
 
 e^tly" """' ' *"' """'* ^" °^"' *"^ ï ^i^J «"^"«« it ^iffer- 
 
 .=^^^Jt^.,aad teok the hem of iiercgit ibric gown ^m^ 
 b^ween the girls finger^, and then went quickly into the 
 
 ^^t 
 
 '^sêÊ^ 
 
 
jj-nf-'i-ffs " 
 
 JOHNvV^ARD, PREACHER. 
 
 155. 
 
 John, I must c6me 
 
 . Shè rapped ligh^ly atthe stiidy door. 
 lE^g moment, ple^e." 
 
 '^ heardachair pushed back, and John's footstep wpon 
 the floor. ,He openpd tUe (loo>, and stood lookingat her'with 
 stiange, unseeing eyes. > 
 
 "Goaway Helen," he said hoarsely, withoutWting for 
 lier to speak, for she was dumb witli astonishment at his face' 
 — ^go away, my darlmg." 
 
 IJe put out one hand as if to push lier back, and clgsed the 
 ilooï, and she heard the boit pushed-. She stood a moment 
 starijg at the blank of the,locked door. What could it mean ? 
 Altajettas miserv and morals were forgotten ; something 
 troubjed John,-she had no thought for anything eïse. ShS 
 turned away as though in a dream, and began absently to take 
 ofï her garden hat. John was in some distress. She went 
 up-staijs to her bedroom, and tried to keep bnsy with sewin^^ 
 until she could go to him, but shç was almost unconscious of 
 what sh« did. How long, how very long, the morning was ! 
 
 John had looked up from ' his writing* to see Mr.' Dean 
 standmg m the doorway. 
 
 " Good-morning," he said eordially, as he rose to give his 
 hand to his elder. ^." I am glad to see you. How hav? thin^r 
 gone smce I hâve been away ?" " 
 
 1 f^ï^ ^^' -R.®^" ^^^^^^ ^"^ ^^^^^ nothing spécial to rebort, and 
 let the preacher tell him of General Assembly, while, embar- 
 rassed and verj; uneomfortahle, he sut twisting liis hat round 
 and round m his big, rough hands. 
 
 A bar of sunshine from the soutli window crept across the 
 floor, and touched the low dish of violets on the table, and 
 dark ^ making a sudden golden glint in his géntle 
 
 " Mr Ward," the elder said, at last, opening his mouth 
 once or twice before he began to speSk. " I hâve a distress oa 
 
 ^^/^■:., ^ ^^'"^ ^^^ SP^"*^ <^* ^te Lord's driven me to teU 
 ycBi 01 it.' 
 
 '-.^I^ir^T^^ *^^ fe»^a fefe> my f r letttf?» ^fae tired lo og" 
 Which had fallenupon John's face as he put down his pea 
 was gone ma moment. '• I am glad, then, I was not a4iy 
 any longer. I trust sickness has not corne to your family V" 
 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 % 
 
." <*J-V*, 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 
 isr 
 
 JOHN WARD, r](EACHEJ{. 
 
 Pefçmd f..„„, sPcko.^ C as for "'. ^'"' «««'«if""/ 
 
 serve the I.onl Mv Vnù.hT' , ?'" ■""' ">}" house, we 
 
 ■John aXs:,r "1ud?atk^"■''7^■''''""• '" "-^'^ r 
 
 thing doubt is, Broth'Xatl '• • """• ^ "' *""" " f««rf"l 
 
 from evor .luesUonTnAmh « ' '"""!?"''■"»• He has kept ml 
 •"-«TotrUTJ^tti^r^^^^^^ I>ean, be^in- 
 
 times wondered if If u"'^ i''rW*''»«'h! IVeJne- 
 ^Joctrme in tl.e pùlpit Si ? ^ Th„ ,'?,,"'''?" ,"'«''<>'ÎSl> Sound 
 
 >«i found in Holy Writ Tthev-^'n i / r',''"*''' *9i"»¥ito 
 
 points of°faiih : ,d' t''S !!'^'™'='«''.y»" «hese 
 
 points oi^&ith :„/ 1 S ttr'^^^"" '^^ ^« yeaSW^^ 
 to.the tendernes, of God al Hs^/'T-r^'i '"^ ™''^' 
 
 'thâ; ™;"s m^^r:!â'V"<'-if ^^ "of co,û^. Bu n„t s„ he ' 
 therein. TlierefasoS^ mL "^^""8 man WiU not ert 
 
 John bent his head on ft., i. j ?^ '^ * consuting lire.' " 
 Jj3 mind back t„ Tis Ôld ~1'°J " -ÎT^tranl droye 
 
 f^-' 
 
 Wl 
 
 Stout raising his head — ^*'' ''"^'^ '"d. »«• 
 
"W •"*•■ 
 
 ■"^,*«^ \ ^ 
 
 JOHN WABD, PRE^CIIER 
 
 T- 7/ 
 
 ;; Do you V ht 8«,Vl -^'^ ^"' ^'^"«^^- «^r^ight in the eyes 
 . " Sir," answered tlie eliW «t ».«. v \r 
 
 y..« for that/ Vou hâve itur ilsoas fcr" w'""" '" ■■«?"»«■'' 
 iloubt. But wliat I did (min» /^ i "l°'"8 "' y" 'IW. l'o 
 
 roj, tl«.t therç. was a ct^•VJÎ,l^f:?,^^^^^^ 
 
 *• And I came the 
 letl on niy own honse- 
 
 liave ûothiiifT to feai 
 irl.' 
 
 von th«f th "''^ ^^°^e to 
 
 strong doctnne now, if we "^ 
 
 hold les, onniyownchiM 
 
 ïoiir own child ?" John sar? 
 lo.. Alfaretta ; she ia « v^y'goSd^eady ^iri - " ' --• 
 
 joiued the church, tw„' t^^ra a i /h^'' ^'''■''' '^''"' *« 
 
 never «îked a question m 3' H"''f' "'"' ""■°»«''. «'"I she 
 
 that slXZTbU^'lï.ehSea 'i"" ''"l '""^ '» **-- 
 roung Chriatians thou«h tLv "" -P' *" '='"ne to very 
 
 ■' Slie haa, A, she as "S h \f '"'^ '"«h '^«ul'ts ?" 
 
 -antoaCltàar tl:^ ^sh'"-^^'l°"" "^ <^'-t, 
 
 But how has th a cime™b„uV? if ^'?r?f "' ">« ™»ts. 
 ;:|es ai;., it ia," said.teîde.-'; ïy" «"'"'^""'"™'=^^" 
 What ,s the especîardoubtr John^sM ' 
 
 saw, not Alfaretta, but Helen ' ""'^^ '^^' ^^^^^^ 
 
 ;; Tha t i 8 very serious," ±e saij 
 
 «ar¥ 
 
 slowl y. 
 
 i hell ; she's hppn fo.,-,T,* , ": ^^^^E" She was 
 
 grounded on hell : she's b;enf«f;. , ' '^^''- " «^e was I 
 ence she's beenundel^prtacL"^^^^ It's the influ-. / 
 
 " "^^ ^^^^""^^ ^^ -^ ^- - our ehu.h, J,hn said ( 
 
 .Vf " 
 
 
 
 
 /> ' 
 
 i 1 ,/: 
 
 'ill'AÈi 
 
 mti^ 
 
 i't 
 

 I. 
 
 \f 
 
 
 b l 
 
 158 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 ^ - - -? 
 
 thoiiglitfully, "1 can thiak Qf too many who arô weak in 
 grâce and <;ood works, but fîttne vvlio doubt the faith/' 
 
 " Yes,"* replîed the eldei<> " yes, it is in our church. That's 
 why I came to beg you to teach sound doctrine, especially the 
 doctrine of everlasting punishtnent, I could a' dealt witli 
 Alfaretta myself, and l'il bring her round, you can depen^iÉiîn 
 that; but it js for the church l'ui askin' you^ and fèr thôt* 
 person that 's unsettled Alfaretta. Convert her, save heir. It 
 is a wonian, sir, a memberi (by letter, Brother Ward) of oitr 
 church, and she's spreadin' nets of eternal ruiii for our yOuth, 
 and I came to say slie ought to be dealt 'with; the Session 
 ought to take notice of it. " The elders bave been speakin' of 
 it while you was away ; and we don't sée no way out of it, 
 for her own soul's sake,— let alone other people's soûls, — than 
 to bring her before the Session. If we can't couvert her to 
 truth, leastways she'll be disciplined to silence." 
 
 That subtile distinction which John Ward had made be- 
 twefen his love and his life was ne ver more apparent than '• 
 iiow. Though his elder's words brought him the keenest con- 
 sciousness of his wife's unbelief, he never for an instant 
 thought of her as the person whose influence in the church 
 was to be feared. His church and his wife were too abso- 
 lutely separate for such identification to be possible. 
 
 " And," Mr. Dean added, his metallic voice involuntarily 
 softening, " our feelings, Mr. Ward, must n't interfère with 
 it ; they must n't make .us unkind to her soûl by slightin' her 
 ^estgood." ' • '^ 
 
 "No," John said, still a*sently, and scarçelyv listening. to 
 his elder, — " no, of couj^e not. But hâve you seen her, and 
 talked with her, and tried to lead her to the tmth ? That 
 should be done with the tenderest patience before anything 
 so extrême ^ Sessioning." ' » 
 
 «• We airfl," the elder answered significantly, " but I make 
 no doubt she's been reasoned with and prayed with." 
 
 " Why, kjiave not spoken to her," John said, bewildered ; 
 JAbut you nave not t o ld me whoit is, yet" „ ''. . . 
 
 " Mr. Ward," u^d the other solemnly, •' if^ou ain't $po|^e 
 to her^ou've ne^cted your duty ; and if yol don't give her 
 poor squl a chance ofj|b,lvation by bringing her to the Session, 
 you are néglectin' your duty still more. Your church, sir, 
 
 and tne 
 disease ( 
 if the Jo 
 don't ma 
 
 They 
 Ward's f 
 whisper 
 
 "Who 
 
 " Sir- 
 raising h 
 so, sir !" 
 
 "Whc 
 
 I sp 
 
 •of them ; 
 
 provin' t 
 
 so preac' 
 
 **Tell 
 
 ♦♦Her 
 it-,it's- 
 
 John ' 
 
 and clinc 
 
 an inarti 
 
 - «• My ^ 
 
 speak he 
 
 "My ( 
 bling fi] 
 starved s 
 
 John 1 
 your vo\^ 
 you keep 
 food, or \ 
 her exam 
 
 John Y 
 against tl 
 hands kn 
 acro a shk 
 Mr. Deat 
 had quit( 
 jafeed hi« 
 
 VYoU : 
 
 . • - , 
 
 a, ■, ;»Jiitf'!. ■; • 
 
JOHN WARD, PRï:ACHER, 
 
 159 
 
 and the everlastiu' happinesa of lier soûl dem|ind ' that this 
 disease of unbelief should be rooted out. Yes, Brother Ward, 
 if the Jonah in a church was our liearest and dèarjjst — and it 
 don't make no odds — the ship should be saved r|' 
 
 They both rose : a terrible look was dawAing in Jolni 
 ■Wa,rd's face, and, seeing it, the elder's voice sunk^ a hurried^ 
 whisper as he spoke the last words. ' "- - : 
 
 "Who is this woman ?" the preacher said hoa^sely. 
 
 "Sir — sir" — the eldercried, backing toward« the door and 
 raising his hands in front^ of him, " don't look SQ, — don't look 
 so, sir !" 
 
 '• Who ?" demanded the other. : 
 
 I spoke fer the sake of Alfaretta's soûl, andjfer the sake 
 •of theni that 's heard her say them things about- Tom Davis, 
 provin' there was n't punishment for sinners. J_ Don't look 
 so preachfer !" 
 
 ** Tell me her hame !" " ' . /' 
 
 fc«^ Her name — her name ? Oh, y ou kno,w it, sir, you kuow 
 it-»it's — your wife, preacher !' '* 
 
 John Ward sprang at the cowering ligure of the big elder, 
 and clinch^d his trembling hand^on the man's shoulders, with 
 an inarticulate cry. *jJ ^x 
 
 ^ '• My wife !" he said, bet#ë«i«iHa„teeth. " How dare you 
 speak her name !" He stoppijd, alruggling for bre^ith. 
 
 " My duty !" gasped the elaei*, 4ryiug to loosen the trem- 
 bling fingers— "to, her— •àti'^. you — an' the church you've 
 starved and neglectéd, Brother Ward l" 
 
 John blenched. Mr. Dean saw his advantagé. " You kuow 
 your vows when you wéHe ordained hère six years ago : do 
 you keep them? Do you feed your people with spiritual 
 food, or will you neglect them for your , wife's sake, and let 
 her example send the soûls in your care to endless ruin ?" 
 
 John had loosened his hold on* the elder, and was loaning 
 against thte wall, his head bowed upon his breast ^nd his 
 hands knotted together. A passion of horrified grief swept 
 yr o a s his f ao e ; he se em e d^noonéoioug of tfae elder^ pre se^cer- 
 
 Mr. Dean looked at him, not certain what to do or say ; he 
 had quitô forgotten Alfaretta's " notice." At last the preacher 
 jrjiteBa his head. 
 
 *;Yoii hâve said euough," he said, iu a low vpice ; " now 
 
 :pS^*'. 
 
 
 H" 
 
 
 11 
 
 iJ'M 
 
 -If 
 
 
 

 160 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEE. 
 
 Il 
 
 m 
 
 .K 1 
 
 •^B*"' 
 
 k 
 
 lu 
 
 go/' and he pointe J with a shaking^ finger to the doof . " Go !"' 
 lie repeated. 
 
 The elder hesitated, theu slowly put on his hat and stumbled 
 from the rOom. , John did not notice his outstretched hand, 
 but followed him blindly to the door, and locked it after him. 
 
 The full bkze of sunshine flooded the room with its piti- 
 less mirtli ", it was wilting the dish of violets, and he moved 
 it to the shady end of the table. 
 
 Alfaretta, peering ont of hi^r attic window, and wiping her 
 eyes on the corner of the diinity curtain which hid her, saw 
 the elder walk ont of the parsonage and through the little 
 gafeway, with shame \Vritten on his drotoping shoulders and 
 in his hurried, shaudiling steps. He never once looked back. 
 
 f.^. 
 
 t 
 
 CHAPTER XVII .. 
 
 u 
 
 Almost befoie Elder Dean had left the threshold Helere 
 ôtood at the bolted door. She turned the knob gently while 
 she knocked. 
 
 '• John," she said anxiously, — " John, dear !" But there 
 was no answer. 
 
 " John !'' she said again, a thread of fear in her voice. 
 •' What is the matter? Are y ou ill, dearest ? Please let mè 
 
 in !" 
 
 Onîy the rustle of the wind outside and the flickering 
 shadows across the hall answered her. She shook the door 
 slightly, and then listened. "John, John !" -she called again, 
 and as she heard a long breath iiiside the closed room she 
 leaned again8t>,the wall, faint with a fright she had not re- 
 alized. She heard a slow fpotstep upon the floor, tihat stop- 
 
 "peïtDn^ the other stde of the door. 
 
 .'* Helen," her husband said, in a voice she scarcely knew, 
 " levant to be alone. I am not ill, but I must be — undià- 
 turbed. Will you go away, please ?" 
 
 •ti M, 
 
 •v\ 
 
 i'ii'. , 
 
 i!'i iï^tt;uî^î;'A^*li^','^<*, 
 
'•Pf^, 
 
 JOHN WAT!D, PKEACHEH. 
 
 161 
 
 "Let meiiKJu.st one niomefit, darliiig," she pleaded, still 
 iiervously turiiing the kiiob. " I w.;t)'t disturb you, but it 
 terrifies me to be sliut out in this \va}-. ],Mease let me just 
 see you, and then 1 will go right away." ^ 
 
 ♦' No/' he answered, "l cannot see you. J do not want to 
 see you, Helen. I must b» alone just now.'^ 
 
 " ï'ou are sure you are not ill ?'' she insisted. 
 
 " Quite sure." «^ 
 
 " Well," slie said rëluctantly, "l'il^o, but call me just as 
 soon as I can come, will you ?" 
 
 " Yes," he answered, '• but do not come ufitil I do call you " 
 
 She heard hirn vvalk back to his study table, and then si- 
 lence seemed to fall like a, shadow on^ her heart. She wa3 
 more bewilderefl than beTore. John was in trouble, and she 
 could not help him. Nevertheless, she did not speak again ; 
 she vv'as one of tliose unusuid, women who are content to"wait 
 until the moment itis needed.to^ve their sympathy or tender- 
 ness. So she wetit to lier own toom, and sat wistfully look- 
 ing out at the sweet spriug day ; she could not read while 
 this anxiety filled her mind, and- her hands were idle in her 
 lap. She did not eveii sumraon John to lunclieon, knowinf»- 
 he would come if he saw fit ; for hei^self, she could not eat! 
 It was almost five, when she heard John pu^h his chair back 
 (she was sitting on the lowest step"of the staircase. which 
 ended at the study door, leaning hérliead against the frame), 
 and agam her ear cauglit the heavy, lonjmdrawn si<di. Her 
 suspense was to end. '' ** '^ 
 
 She rose, her hands pressed ha^d together to check their 
 trembliiig ; she bit her lip Jest she might sp^k and disturb 
 him one moment before lie was ready tojiear her. ' 
 
 He pushed back the boit, and slowly opened the door and 
 looked at her. Ail the words of love and ai^ety died on her 
 lips. 
 
 "John," sJ^e whispered,— "oh, my dear, what is it ?" 
 He came out, and, putting his hands on her shoulders, 
 looked down at her with tenible, unsmiling eyes. " Helen.'' 
 
 he said; --"t ara grîévèatoÏÏaWdîstresséd^y^^ 
 be. I had to be alone. I am in much trouble. No," laying 
 his hand gently ou her lips ; " listen to me, dearest. ' I am in 
 great distress of soûl ; and just now, just for a few days I 
 must bear it alone." , ^ ' 
 
 '...<^À<]ù^^*\Aà^^i^: 
 
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 ■ ►.(fis™ 
 
 
 
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iV- ï4 
 
 
 
 JOHN WARD, PRBACHteR." 
 
 fèît a raomentaryssiisé of relief. Distrese of soûl ? 
 meaiit sorae spinttfalanxiety, and it had not the aw- 
 fuïnessNto her wMgMdnore tangible trouble, such as sicknéss, 
 would hâve. 
 
 " What is it, John ? Tell me," she said, looking at hini 
 with overnowing love, but;without an understanding sympa- 
 thy ; it wSs more that feeling vvhich belongsto strong women, 
 of maternai tenderness for the men they love, quite apart from 
 . au intellectual appi-eciatio^ of their trouble. 
 
 John shook his head. " I niust bear it alone, Helen. Do 
 not ask me what it is ; I cannot tell y ou yet." 
 
 " You cannot tell me ? ' Oh, John, your sorrow belongs t(| 
 me; don't shut me piit ; tell me, dear, and let me help you." 
 
 "You cannot help me,'.' he auswered wearily ; " only trust 
 me whéfi'I say it is best for me not to tell you nowf you shall 
 l^now ail there is to knQW, later. Be patient just a féM^ days, 
 -\until afterthe Sabbath. Oh, bear^vith me,— I am ingreat 
 Borrow, Helen ; help me with silence." ^ ' 
 
 She put lier anns aix)uud him, and in her caressing voice, 
 with tl^t deep note in it, she said, " It shall be just as you^ 
 any, daHing. 1 \Von't ask you another question, but l'm ready 
 to hear vvhenever you want to tell me.'' 
 
 He looked^at her with haggard eyes, but did not auswer. 
 Then she drew him out into the f resh coolness of the garden, 
 and tried to bring some brightness iuto his face by talking of 
 small household happenings, and how she, had missed him 
 during his two weeks' absence, and what plans she had for 
 the next week. But no smile touclied his white lips, or ban- 
 ished the absent look in his eyes. If ter tea, during which 
 his silence had nof been bruken, he turned to go into his 
 study. 
 
 " Oh, you are not going to work to-night ?" Helen cried, 
 ** Don't leave me alone again !" 
 
 He looked at her with sudden wistf ulness. " I — I must," 
 he said, his voice so changed it gave her a shock of pain. " I 
 must work on my sermon,'' 
 
 ^1 thoug^ryoTThad written-it,"n3he saitlr^'â^^^ 
 so tired — do wait until to-morrow." 
 
 « I am notgoing to use the sermon I prepared," he answer- 
 ed, •* I hâve deoided to preach more directly on foreign mis- 
 
 àà.: 
 
 ■M% .1, 
 
 <^, 
 
 .f'ïïft 
 
 
 
 'i-i-. 
 
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 I * 
 
 
 JOHN WAKD, PREACHEU. 
 
 163' 
 
 îl rf -' f;d he vvill preach to our clmicli on the atti- 
 tude otAssembly towaids missions. I had inteudéd to ai4 
 
 ^oSwFsr-' '''"'"" ^' ^"' ^''^'^'' ''"'-^ '^"^^ ^'''^^'^ 
 Heleu wa^s surprised at so long au explanation ; gohn's sei- 
 
 •Z^'^^l^'?T''^^^^'?"^''^''>' '^°^^^' ^"t for différent rea- 
 fr^ht/^ 1 'r^,^'""f^''^*'^ '^"^:>^' ^^d ^^heu she had 
 vn,> tÎ r ' ^"'^\^^ ^''f ^ hor/sayiug softly. " May God hless 
 
 " ^°"'r?'l!"? ,^"1^ ^'\«" ''« «J^^t her geutly from the room'^ 
 . Don t look the door. John," she had said. - I won't coine 
 1.1, but don't ock it." . Her lip almb.st trembled as she spoke. 
 yousuSr' ^^ '^^'^ ^*^"^l«^b'- "Oh,Helen, Ihave made 
 
 She was qurck to protect him. " No, I was only lonelv • 
 but you vVon't look it ?" • J' '^"«V » 
 
 He did not, but poor Helen, wandered forlornly about the 
 dai;kened house, an indéfiuable dread chasing away the relief 
 vvhich had corne when her husband spoke of spiritual trouble • 
 she was glad. for the niere humanuess of it, to hear Thaddeus 
 •and Altaretta talking in the kitchen. 
 
 The next day, and the next, dragged' slowly by, Whea 
 n«!r T^ u^^ f- !"' ^^^-iting-table, he was making those 
 pastoral calls which took so much time and strength. and 
 which Helen alWays felt were unnecessary. Once, seeinc^ her 
 standiûg leanmg her forehead against the window anlilok- 
 inâout sadlj^into the rate-mrden, be^cafne up to h^nd 
 toôk her ai his arms, îiold% her silently to his heart. That ' 
 cheered and lightened lier, auds^juehow, wheu Sunday morn- 
 mg dawned, fuU of the freshness^^ the past rain ^d the 
 présent wmd and sunshine. she M the gloom^f the W 
 three days lifting a little^True. thete wls tlgfenknoru 
 sorrow in her heart, but love was thëfe, tao. " SheTas almS 
 happy, without knowing it. . " ' 
 
 They were to go on horseback, for Chester was eight milei " 
 jO B, ,a n d t h e,t h ougl i t 
 bçought a glow to hfer cheek, which had been pale the last 
 fewdays. They starfed early. The sun seemed to.tip the 
 great green bowl of the valley, ai^d making eveiy leaf shine 
 ana glisten ; the road wound ainong the circling hills, which 
 
 
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 \ -i. 
 
 'Ai 
 
 
 :W' 
 
 ■AU 
 
 ÎL'vyît ^v. 
 
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 <f 
 
 164 
 
 "*'• 
 
 johnS?ard, preacher. 
 
 were dark with soE^re pjàes, lightene4^ heraand tlj 
 •fresh greenness §f ash or ^estnut ;^in goni^lacesl 
 Jioofsm^ea véketjl^oimaon the l^ièn canins. 
 , CoUowed their path, wlnspei%andM|5ering^, ^c^idMg awa>; ' 
 • îiider 'overhafaging buâhe^fl^d thlîrlpfeughmg sha|ply ont 
 \fethe'sun8hine a^ailK Tbe winâ ^as^^^^h jod; Ickl^t^y., 
 tetiin^s twitog|^e weècfs^|pd flo\vs|x^ T^il'V^^^^I*^' ^11 
 
 ii^t'3 raindrops intf tï||i^ace'#'f^^ 
 trees;.àii,d ail thè YfW^e liakii^Ipttl^;, 
 ' ihàà^â'^mBiteÉll^ Jg^^è'^^ploughed fields, aftcl^'^W^ and- 
 
 on îiér biidle, and sh| fitroked hei 
 é wind bas blown y^ï bair froni 
 
 tle tendrils 
 
 ^ 
 
 ' S^e l^t bôrjauntleted hand up to smooth WW 
 
 ' " PP*t/' he éaii, " it's so pretty , it looks likei«^ 
 thatlfiye caught the sun,". |^: 
 
 -, Helel|4,aiighed, and then looked at bim anxiousl^ ; tbe sun- 
 < Slîine br^ght out tbe worn Unes in bis face. " Yo^^ work too 
 ^^.■^'hafd, dearest ; it worries me." ^ 
 
 •'•Ibave never worked at ail!" be cried, witb^a sudden 
 
 ;assion of pain in bis voice. " Ob, njy wasted life. Hel§n,— 
 
 &y iife tbat bas wronged apd cbeated you !" 
 
 ■' " Jobn !" sbe said, almost frightened. Yet it was cbarac 
 '. teristic tbat sbe < sbould tbink tbis was only a symptom of 
 'ovei-work and bodily ^eatiness. And wben at last tbey 
 
 reacbéd the cburcb in Cbester, and Jobn lifted bepfrom ber 
 
 •4saddle, tlie anxiety bad corne agàin, and ail tbe joy of tbe 
 
 . ëummer morning bad left ber face. Tbey fî^stened tben- 
 
 ' horses to one of tbe big cbestnuts wbicb stood in a stately 
 
 i-ovv in front of tbe little wbite cburch, and tben Helen went 
 
 ^ 
 
 inside, and found a seat by one of tbe open 
 secretly pusbed tbe long inside sbutter, witb 
 tvirned down, balf-way open, sothatpbe migbt 
 the burying-groiujÀwberetbe bigh blos 
 
 John b^d folUPiS ber, and. folded a c 
 tbepew. ' He gave ber ^-long, yearnini^ 
 spe«^. " Tlien be turned, and walked slowlj? 
 reverently bent bead. 
 
 ovvs ; sbe 
 
 ab slabs 
 
 t across 
 
 nodded 
 
 tbô Tîâck of 
 
 but did not 
 
 islé, \yith 
 
 t. , V *Jii^'iiliàiùiLiksiyi^A. , I > < < . f > v 
 
 
JOHN WARD, PREACHEB. 
 
 165 
 
 V 
 
 At the first hyinh the congrégation turned aiîd faCed thè 
 choir. Helen, with the shq^tes of the ïèaves playîng across 
 her hymn-book, leaned agamst the high back of the jjewbe- 
 . hind her, and sang in a strong, sweet voice, rejoiding in the 
 roljing old tune of " Gyeenland's icy mountains." She could ' 
 see the distant lines^of the hills, and now and then between 
 the branches of the trees wDuld corne the flash and ripple ôf 
 the brown river; and through the opeu door, which made a" 
 frame for the leaves .and sky, she caught sight of the rovv of 
 horses "p^iiiding and svvitching under the chestnuts, and 
 those backslider^ outside, who found it necessary to " see to 
 tlie beasts'' rather than attend their religions "privilèges. ^ 
 Butthere was not very manyof thèse, for Mr. ,Ward's famé 
 as a prpacher had spread through ail the villages near Lock- - 
 haven, 
 
 Helen, watching John while he read the cU.apter from the 
 Bible, thought a,nxiously how tired an^l worn his face looked, 
 and so thinking.und looking out into ihe dancing leaves, the 
 short prayer, and the long prayéï-,,^ the hymn before the 
 sermon passed, and she scarcly heard them. Then came the 
 rustle of préparation for listenhig. The raen shuffled about 
 in their seats, and crossed their legs ;' the women settled 
 their bonnet-strings, and gave the little children a pepper- 
 mint drop, and the larger children a hymn-book to read. 
 There were the,u8i^| rustl\pg and whispering in the choir, 
 and the creaking fbotsteps of the one or two who entered 
 shamefacedly, as though they would explain that the horses 
 had detained them. Then the èhurch was very still. 
 
 John Ward rose, and spread his manuscript aut upon the 
 velvet cushion of the white pulpit. 
 
 " You will find mj^ .teg^he said, " in the slxth chapter of 
 Komans, thœ^MM^-$W ' The end of those things is 
 
 ^leath."';^;!!!' ■ ■ ^\^- '^4 
 
 Itl^t beeu announced that his sermon was to be upon 
 foreigHgnlfesions, ànd the pepple vgtited patiently while the 
 jrea cher briefly told them . wh at Md be efi .aceofliplished hy 
 
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 ^^Hi^f 
 
 
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 1% 
 
 si 
 
 JV 
 
 •/ 
 
 
 ihff^Frestojrteràiî "tTïïibïî during the îast yéar, and describing - 
 ^î^ methods of work, ahowed whçit it profoged to do in the 
 ïutùrê..' ' ■ ■/ - .' ^ '^^ ♦ ' * 
 
 "Thàt's ju§t a-tunin' up,— he'U fet the Jiealhen (^ancin* | 
 
 <¥ 
 
 •/■If. 
 
w 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEH. 
 
 It.;";- 
 
 pretty soon ; y^«r^(?e !" some one whispered behind, Helen ; 
 und then there was a giggleiand " hu8h-sl4" as Mr. Ward be- 
 gan to say trhat" foreign missions were inevii(;able vvherever the 
 sentiment of pity found room in a huîuan heîirt, because the 
 guilt of those in the darkness of unbelief, without God, with- 
 out hope, wmild certai»nly doom them to eternal misery ; and 
 this was a tbéught so dark and awful, raen eon^i not go their 
 way, one to his farnb, and anothér to his merchandise, and 
 leave them to perish. j 
 
 The simple and unquestioning. conviction with which the 
 preacher begau to prove to his congrégation that the heathen 
 \yere guilty, because Adam, their fédéral head and représenta- 
 tive^, had sinnecl, perh^ps hid from them the cruelty wi'th 
 which he creditied the Deity. No one thought of disputing 
 his statemènt that the wràth of God rested upon aîl uncon- 
 verted soûls, and that it would, unless they burst from their 
 ^arkness into the gloxious light of revealed truth, sink thenî 
 to.hea , 
 
 ' Some of the older Christians nodded theîp heads comfort- 
 ably at this, and looked keenly at the sinners ofr-their own 
 families, trusting- that they would be awakenec^lô their dan- 
 ger by thèse trumpet blasts of doctrine. To such hearers, it 
 was unnecessary that John Ward should ^insist upon the ' 
 worthlessness of natural religion, begging them reMgraber 
 that for thèse heathen, as well as for more favoted soûls, 
 Christ's was the orily name given under heaven whereby raen 
 '. might be saved, ajyd) appeali'hg to God's people, m custodians 
 of thé mercies of Cfiri^, to stretch their handsNOut into the 
 darkness to thèse blind, stumbling, dooméd brothers. H^ 
 bàde them be quîckto q,nswer that cry of " Come and help 
 us I" and to listen for that deeper voice beneath the wail of 
 despair, which said, ** Inàsmnch as ye bave done it unto one 
 of the least of thèse my bi*ethren,fye hâve done it unto me." 
 The possibiiity of being saved without a knowle^ge of 
 Christ remg;ined, he said, after eighteen hundred years, a pos- 
 sibiiity illustrated by no example ; ..and we couJ4 Only' stand 
 -iiuthe^sh a dow -of t bis^te rribla foct, k n o wing tha i é m il lions-a i îd ^ 
 
 _ millions of spuls were living without the gospel, the only 
 source of life, and dying without hope, and pray God for- the. 
 spirit and the means.to help them. 
 
 . , V 
 
 ï'^^^ifàt^^^-^'t^héâ 
 
 ■ / 
 
 -^.i^i.s.^^v'i'i 
 
■f 
 
 JOHN aVard, preachî:k. 
 
 167 
 
 Link by liiik he lengthened the chain of logic till it leachèd 
 to the deepest hell. He showed how blasphemous was 'Uie 
 cry that men must be sayed, if for lack of opportunity they 
 kneAy not Christ; that God would not damn the soûl that 
 had had no chance to accept salvation. It had had the chance 
 of salvation in Adam, and had lost it, and was therefore con- 
 demned. To the preacher this punishnient of the helpless 
 heathen seemed only just-. 
 
 " Shall not the Judge of ail the earth do right ?" he cried, 
 and he stopped to suppose, for the sake of argument, that 
 Adam had not sinned ; surely .jio one would hâve disputed 
 the^ justice of receivin^ the ^blessings which his godliness 
 would hâve entailed, Then he began to prove the right of 
 the potter over the clay. He had forgotten his congrégation ; 
 the horror of the damnation of the heathen was lost in the 
 fear that one soûl should perish. J^e saw only Helen ; she 
 was in danger, she was far from God, but yet the price of ad- 
 mission to heaven could not be altered, though his heart 
 broke for longing 'that she should be saved ; the requirements 
 of the gospel had not softened, the decrees of Omnipotence 
 were as unchangeable as the eternal past, ' * 
 
 His words, glowing with his love and grief, were only for 
 her, The thunders of God's justice shook his soûl, while he 
 offered her the infinité mercy of Christ. But he did not 
 shrink from acknowledging that that mercy was only for 
 those who would accept it, nor présume to dictate to God that 
 ail sinner§ should be saved, forced into salvation, without ac- 
 cepting his conditions. 
 
 " What right," he said, "bave we to expect that mercy. 
 should exist at ail ? What madness, then, to think He wilt ■ 
 départ from the course He bas laid out for himself, and save 
 without condition those who are justly eondemned ? Yet 
 justice is satisfied, for (Jhrist bas died. Soûl, accept that 
 sacrifice !" He had come to the edge of the pulpit, one pale 
 han^linçhed un^ the heavy cover of the Bible, and the 
 other çtretche^mnblingly out ; his anxious, grieving eyea 
 "tôokëd ôver lliMMfeiïïn, uptnrned TSces^ blf^fetëHèrs, àri^ 
 ^ught Helen^ jatting in the dusky shadow by the open win- 
 ofow, hfir face a little averted, and her firm sweet lips set in 
 a, line which v^s alniost stern. - ' 
 
 ■^Fr 
 
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D, PREACHEK. 
 
 168 
 
 Some of tjJppSipplK^ere^cryingN. an exaltation purely 
 hysterical vfi^l^metii feel tliemselveV lost sinners ; tliey 
 thrilled at ^ftn's voice, as thoùgh liis vWds touched.somé 
 strained phôrd in their placid and virtuous lives. r 
 
 " Comef he gaid, " stand withmejjtwday lînder the pierced 
 hands and bleediàg side of h0m9^9^l'êy ; lipk i^p into that 
 face oft' divine compassion anà inefrable.tende^ss, and know 
 that \%lm blood-stained cross proôlainis to all^îe centuries 
 deafeJiÈ-âiffered for the sin oï the worW,— for your si<j and 
 ,'Can you turn and go away to outer darkness, to wan- 
 îough the shadows of eternity, away from God, away 
 ;hope, away from love ? Oh, corne, while still those arms 
 are <)pe;i to you ; corne, before the day of grâce has darkened 
 intd niglit ; corne, before i;elentless Justice bars the way with 
 a,flaming sf^rd: O Soûl, Obrist waits 1" 
 
 He stood a moment, leaning|.forward, his hands claspei^ 
 upou the big Bible, and his face f ull of trembling agtpas- 
 sionate pleading. Then he said, with a long, indrawnl^eath, 
 
 The peoplè ip^,'and stood with bowed heads through the 
 short, eagèr, earlest prayer. Then the pi^acher gave out the 
 hymn, and there' was the riistle of tuming to face the ohoir. 
 The quaint, doleful tune % Windham wailed and sobfed 
 through the words,— \ M:- , ~ 
 
 " Th^^ea^S^our wèi|itj guilt '^ 
 WcH^ sink us dowli to fiâmes ; 
 Aadthreatemng vengeance roUp' iri)OFe^.. , 
 ' "ï^o CïMyitfur feeble frames 1" « ^ 
 
 .^, ■' #^W .' ■ M. »^^ # -«. ■ 
 
 The choir sang 'with cheerful ftéarti^^ss; it was, a i^glieC^ 
 ^Jrôm the tension of the sermon, a ïSÉÉ^Jon ta life'and^àope, 
 %i<î healthy Jiumanness aïter^es^TOad^ws of death. v^It alî 
 sesaned part of a dream to WÊjj^ : Jhfe t«ro happy-t'aced girls 
 stianding, in thé'choir, with Bwhe^f apple-bbssoms in the 
 beî% ^f ^heir fresh ^alîco dr^ps, and the three young farmers > 
 llpf ho ftèld the green singing-bôoks open, ail singing heartily * 
 Jn^n get ^ e iy^ .^: _„. .. . , ^ , J_ 
 
 #• 'T is boundlesb 't is amazing love, 
 That bears usJp from hell !" 
 
 Helen' walched them with fascinated cuijosity ; she won- 
 
 m 
 
 
-#'a 
 
 ^;"* 
 
 
 JOHN WARp. PREACHEII. 
 
 169 
 
 I dered if they could believe wliat they had j«st heard. Surely 
 I not ; or how could they know a momeht's happiness, or eveii 
 
 After the bénédiction had been pronounced she walked ab- 
 sently down the aisle, and went at once to her horsejftnder 
 the flickering shadows of the chost-nuts. Hère she waited 
 tor John one hand twisted in the -ray's mane, and with the 
 other svvitching at the tall grass with her riding-whip Onlv 
 a tew of the people knew her, but thèse came to speak of the 
 sermon One woman peered at her curiously from undw her 
 big shaker bonnet. The stor«8 of Mr. Ward's wife's unbelief 
 |ad travelled ont from Lockhaven. " Wonderful how sojne 
 mks could stand against such doctrine !" she said ; «and vet 
 they must knqw it's a sin not to believe in everlastin^ pun- 
 
 uV\l J i^^^'^""® '^''^ a mortal sin, don't you. Mrs. Ward ?" 
 No, Helen said quietly. 
 
 
 c^ 
 
 ik 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 They rode quite^silently to the house of the minister with 
 whoni,John had exchanged, where they were to dine: after 
 that, the pi^eacher was to go back to the church for thjfeafter- 
 lïoon sermon. ' ^^m 
 
 Mrs Grier, a spare, anxiouà-looking woman, withliJHt 
 inz ot haïr about her temples which were thin and SfflRha 
 metthem at the door. She had hurried home to "seefô 
 ^T^®' Bi ^^. ready to welcome her guests. John she- 
 ushered arolicemto her husband's study, a poor Httle room 
 with even fe^er bocks than Mr. Ward's own. while Helen she 
 took to the spare chamber, where she had thoughtfullv pro- 
 
 cmbii& diesaibr Jicr^r tbe^lay-fatd gr own venr 
 
 warm, and the riding-habit was heavy. 
 
 She sat down in a splint rocking-chair, and watched her 
 guest brush out her length of shining bronze hair, and twist 
 it m a farm coîl low on her neck. 
 
 ^A'iiA'. 
 
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 "EL 
 
 'MÊc- 
 
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 L'-' Ë) 
 
 170 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 " It was a good gj^thering," she said ; "people came from a 
 distancîB to heai^ Mt. Ward. The folks at Lockhaven are 
 favored to listen to éucli preaching.'* 
 
 " No doubt they feel favored to hâve Mr. Grier with them 
 to-day," Helen an8were«l. courteously ; but tliere was an ab- 
 sent look in lier eyes, and she did not listen Iclosely. 
 
 " Well, people like a change once in a wliile," Mi-s. Grier 
 admitted, Vocking hard. " Mr. Grier's discoiirse was to be on 
 thé same subject as your huaband's, foreign missions. It ig- 
 one that moves the preachers, and the peoplç seem to like it> 
 I notice, though I don't know that it raakes much différence 
 in the collections. But I think they like td gçt ail harrowed 
 up. You'll find theie won't be such an attendance in thé af- 
 ternoon.^ It is ways and nieans, then, you know. Yes, seems 
 jis if sermons oi) hell made thein shiver, and^hey enjoyed it, 
 l've sometimes thought — I don't know as l'm right — they get 
 the same kind of pleasure ont of it that worldly people do out 
 of a play. Not that I know much about such things, l'm 
 sure.'' 
 
 Helen smiled, vvhich rather shocked Mrs. Grièr ; but though 
 the guest sc^rcely listened, the little sliarp bablî)le of talk was 
 kept up, until they went down to dinner. 
 
 There had been no chance fof; the husbaijd and wife to 
 speak to eaeh othej. John looked at Helen steadily a mo- 
 ment, but hereyes veiled any thought- In the midst of Mrs. 
 Grier's chatter, she had gone int0 the solitude of her own 
 heart, and slowly and silently ligtt was beginning to shine 
 into the mysterious darkness of the last few days. John's 
 grief must hâve had something to do with this terrible ser- 
 mon. She felt her heart leap up from the past anxiety like 
 a bird from a net, and the brooding sadness began to fade 
 from her face. The preacher had corne down from the pulpit 
 , with a certain exhilaration, as of duty done. He was in- 
 spired to hope, aud even certainty, by the greatness of the 
 thème. Helen should see thé truth, his silence should no 
 longer fjgiis^ead her, she should believe in the justice of God. 
 He liEd foTgottéïi his OTi ôf cowafdîcëTn thèWwâM-sWé^^ 
 wave of his coayictions ; he seemed to yield himself up to the 
 grasp of truth, aùd lost even personal remise in the contem- 
 plation of its majesty 
 
 ./ 
 
 \ 
 
 / — 
 
 tïhildrenij 
 
 
 
ïï.r: 
 
 L^*î- /^ *•#",■ 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEIÎ. 
 
 17t 
 
 
 iincl Heleii could at lenst be silent ; yet it waa harf to ïif 
 through the dinner when their heart/we.e in.p^tie," for eac' 
 
 . f îû " l'-H^ breatliiny space at the end of tlie meal when tun 
 rfthe children had clnn.ored down from theirS chaift àmî 
 
 It was a wondeitul discourSe, sir," ehe said • " teSk, »<, ,c 
 nobojly could stand againstsuch doctrine as yo.'. «av7, s I 
 could hâve wshed thouoh, you'd hâve told ns your tho H.ts 
 
 tween Mr. Gner and two of our elders " 
 
 Well, Mis Crier u^tswered, shaking her hrad ■• he doe» 
 
 S%f feith ,:r;r'- if •;' '!"= •^""'-""'^ ^*^ thkt the^! 
 
 ression ot taith teaches tliat e ect in ants are sav^^rl nn.i ^f- 
 course .tfollows that that those not eto are lost My fa Li 
 J|r Ward was a r,al old-fashioned Christian, and I mus av 
 that was wha I was taught to believe. and I hol " by ît 
 
 th'eTaS;S^rdt^ ^^ - ^n- 
 
 ^; t!^t tf t S ir ^""^ '^'^ ^^^^^' ^-' P"^ ^-- »-^ 
 belie^e'it^t!;"if"f " f'I' 'P^'^'"^' ^"^^^'^^' ">'«" «^)' ^ou 
 
 " I hâve, nia'ani/'—Mrs. Grier's thin lin quivered and lier 
 eyes reddened a little,-"fcut that cnn't make an^dift^en^ 
 
 Icrinfint'' ''' "' '""^ '.'^ '^^^^^^ ^^P^ that^he wara" 
 
 m? Hp?in*f^7 ^'"- ^^^^lt«i^«« the reason for this hope. 
 and Helen listened insteady^îtW a breath of relief to what 
 John was sayn.g,-he, at yp^not hold this tZ^X,7l 
 
 -r^f^\^^T ^^ ygHit^gk n< ilhe .sa id. ilTrnc,alt-^ 
 
 ^ne^brcor I" «^pt?^^ 
 
 Wr^ wV,ETS J°"^^h^" EdwMs,you know, calîs them 
 
 vipers, which of course was a crude and cruel wiy of stat- 
 
 ing the tmth, that they are sinners. Yet, through thefn: 
 
 , •'.■■j 
 
 *§ ■ 
 
 
 '"ïr. 
 
 - l 
 
 .1 
 
 
 .f-r-^ 
 
 
 r 
 
 Lt, inki^'iitm^^ * -^\,„ .«^ 1 ' ,t/« 
 
 .i* 
 
172 
 
 JOXH WABD, PREACHËU. 
 
 1^ 
 
 î - 
 
 
 finite raercy, they are saved because Christ died, iiot of them- 
 selves; in othei" words, ail infants whoxlie, are, elect." 
 ' Mrs. Grier shook lier head. " l'nf for holding to the 
 catechism," she said ; and then, with a sliarp, thin laugh, she- 
 added, "But you're sound on the heathen, I rnUst say." 
 
 Helen shivered, ajid it did not escape her hostfess, wJio 
 turned and looked^t her with interested euriosity. Shfe> too, 
 had hçard the Lockhaven rumors. 
 
 " But then," she proceeded, " I don't seé how a persori can,, 
 help being sound on that, thaugh it is surprising what people 
 will doubt, even the things that are plainest to,,other people. 
 l'Ve many a time heard niy father say .that the proper hold- 
 ing of the doctrine of réprobation was necessary to etemal- 
 life. I suppose you ftelieve that, Mi*. Ward," she added, witlj 
 u little toss of hèr head, "even if you don't^go.all'theiWay 
 with the confession, about infants ?" 
 
 ~ " Yes," John said sadly, " I must ; because not to believe 
 in réprobation is to say that the sacrifice of the crois' was a 
 
 dess offering.'' ' . ' ^'' 
 
 lud of course,'' Mrs. Grier went on, an edge p& sarcasui 
 •Cuttràg her voice, Mrs. Ward thinks so, too ? Of course sfe 
 tJi^'s that à belief in hell is necessary to get to Jieaveii ?" 
 
 ^he preacher looked at his wift* witli a growing anxièty in 
 h/s face. , 
 
 ' " !No/' Helen said, " I de nol»think so; Mr». Grier.'' 
 
 Mrs. Grîer'fluug \ip her little thin liaAds, which lodked like 
 bi^d-claws. <-^' You dont!" she cried shriîly. '" Well, nqw, I 
 4o sayl^ And what do you think about the heathe^i, thén ? 
 JDo you think"they1I_ be damned ?" 
 
 " No," ïlelen said again. , ., 
 
 Mïs. Grier gave a gurgle of astonishnient, and lookeâ at 
 Mn Warditbut he did not speak. '* -■ 
 
 " Well," she exclairtaed, " if J didn't, think t'^e heathen 
 .would be lost, I would't see the use V)f fche plan of saîvation ! 
 Why, they'vegottobe!", • >, 
 
 " If they hj4 to_ be,'^ cried JHelen, with sudden passion, 
 -^" i sfemthî'waîît ttr1fre"heatheir. f^shrmld be ashïiBued; rto be * 
 saved, if there were so many lost." She stoppeà ; :^e anguish 
 in Jqhn's face sileiiced her. / >f. 
 
 "Well," Mrs. Grier said again, really enjbjÂ'tha. scenç,^ 
 •*'/'w surprised; I wouldn't^â' bèlieved itliX^^ ^ ' 
 
JOHX, WARI>, PIÎËACHEIt. 
 
 I7;i 
 
 
 She fokled lier hands across lier waist, and looked at Mrs 
 Ward with keen i.xterest. Helen's face flushed under tli« . 
 cûnternptuous cuiiosity in the woman's eyes , she turiKul arî- 
 pealingly to John. "^ J * 
 
 "Mrs. Ward does' iiojtjhink'quite as vve do,.yf^t," hci^nid 
 as welave'^''' "*"''' ^^'*' ^''' """^ ''''''" "^ ï'resbyterian a8 Ion- 
 
 . He rose as lie gpoke. and came and stood by Helen'.s chair 
 and theii vvalked at lier side iiîto the pàrlor 
 _ Mrs. Gjier had followed thein. and'heard Helen sav in a 
 rKT\l ^ T'^"^. i'^ther-noti> to church tiiis atte.noon 
 dearêst. May I vvait for yoii hère ?" 
 
 " Well " she hroke in,;' I shouldu't suppose you w.,uld mv 
 to go, so long as it's ju.st about tlie ways and nieans ui HeThl- 
 ihg the gospel to the heathen, and you think they'r,. al! .^.in- 
 nght to.heftven, any way." ^ ^ " 
 
 "I-donotknow\vhery they aregoiug, Mrs. nrier," H^h-n 
 said^.wennly; for ail I know, there is no heav.n, either 
 
 \^}'^1^''^^^^:^-'^ ^'^^^« '■« ^^'^^^ ^vho ivas any iKU-aonal 
 
 t.'iij'- 
 
 puiiisli 
 
 y^ tor ms-^ould-not he so wîckedftnd cruel us to „ 
 l^ople for wlmt they could not help" , * 
 
 . " Good lànd !''; cried Afos. Grier, reall^- frightr.ujd at .such 
 irds, and looknig about-as tlwugh shè expecte.l a judL'nicnt 
 bf^mediate^is the bears whicli devouretlth^ 8(nifin<V'.J,il 
 
 " Jf you would rather not go," John ansVerrd, " jf >,hi ,uv 
 >tirod, wait for me hère. I am sure Mrs^vitn will h.t'x.rti lie 
 
 dowu^rest until it is is time to starter h..me '" 
 - ." Oh7(5r courte," respohcfed >Mi^ GriA, foreseeing a chance 
 
 ior fiirther investigation, for she. too, was t.. he at ho.ue. 
 . But lelen chtl notVinVit* her to conie imo the spai-é rouiu 
 
 when 8liç.vyent tt) liy" Jo.wn, after John's d'epautui'e ffu ehnrch' 
 
 ■*4 
 
 **i 
 
 n 
 
 à ■« •" 
 
 ft 
 
174^-' 
 
 JOHN WAUD, PREACHEIi. 
 
 m 
 
 m-' 
 
 she had ever had it. 8he sat iiow by tlie opeii windjow, look- 
 inj,' ont over the briglit ^ardeii to ïhe distant peac^ful hills, 
 und by degrees the pain of it began to ftiile froni lier niind, in 
 thoughts of John hiniself, his goodness, and their love. Yes, 
 'they loved one another,— that was enough. 
 
 " What does it matter what his belief is ?" she aaid. " I 
 love hini !" 
 
 , So, by and by, the content of niere existence unfolded in 
 lier lieart, and Joliu's belief was no more to lier than a dress 
 of the inind ; his cliaractcr was unchanged. There was a nio- 
 nientary pang that the characters of others might be hurt by 
 this teaching of the expediency of virtue, but ëhe forced the 
 Ihought back. John, whose whole life was a lesson in th»' 
 beauty of li(>lines^^=«dolm could not injure any one. The pos- 
 sibility that heTniight be right in his creed simply ^ever pre- 
 sented itself to ijer. . 
 
 Helen's- face had relaxed into a happy sniile ; again the day 
 was fair and the wind sweet. ïhe garden below her was 
 fragrant with growing things and the sniell of damp earth ; 
 and while she sat, drinking in its sweetness, a sudden biust 
 of chiidren's voices reached her ear, and EUen and the two 
 littJe bfoys carpe around the corner of the house, and settled 
 down under the window. A group of lilacs, with feathery 
 purple blossoimi, ^^*^^ ^ ^««P- ^"ol shade, where the chiidren v 
 sat ; and near thein was an old grindstone, streaked with rust, 
 and worn by luan^' ^unjmers of sharpening scythea ; a tin 
 dipper hung on the wooden fraïuç, nearly full of last night's 
 rain, and with some iilac stars floating in the water. 
 
 This was evideutly a favorite play«rround with the chiidren, 
 for uuder the f raine of the grindstoiie were some corn-cob 
 houses, <ind a little row of broken bits of china, which their 
 simple imaujination transformed into " dishes." But to-day 
 thf corn-cob houses and the dishes werô untouched. 
 
 " Xow, chiidren," Elep said, "you sit right down, and l'il 
 hear your oatechisni." ^ft. 
 
 " Who'll hear yours ?" Bot)by asked (■Kntentedly. "When 
 wo play Licl i ool, you'ie al w a^a teachm, J | Pi tV uo tn n. " 
 
 " This is o't piaying school," Ellen answered, skillfully 
 i'viading the ftrst question. " Don't you know it's wicked to 
 play oirthe Sabbath ? Now sit right down." 
 
 •^ 
 
 .#.' 
 
 _HTi, 
 
'■\ -1 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREAGHEIl. 
 
 175 
 
 r„er.p;r """^ "" ""^«"''""^ble seat upon an'invertell 
 
 Ellen opened a little yeflow-cove.'ed book, and bcan 
 
 ^ VVTiat are thèse two kinds, Bob ?" 
 Ongmal and actual," Bob answeied. 
 
 ^o ta.r r cried Jiob ; " thaVs teiling." ' 
 though yL s r other s^'^.^""""'' '° ^-'i ^"" '» "eU. 
 .arelmly or she was growing, tired of the lesson. 
 c^lT. "'" '^""'"^ "' the' wiokedr^ked. the little ' 
 
 cheé]SX''wMrp^n'''' ^'^d blasphème God," said little Jim ' 
 cneertully while Bobby, to show hi» inv tho/. fïî^ i 
 
 " l'ui lOaiii.' !' lie cned gayly. , i » 
 
 ^uaïv "ft^Iro if ^^"^^7 "^'^ pocket, and said* mysteïi- 
 mBij, Boys, rf you won't ever tel],a'll tell you somethiî^g!'- 
 
 
 tx,. 
 
 
 '':^'' 
 
 1 • 
 
 ■V' , '. s ■ ■i'- 
 
*i^ 
 
 176 
 
 JOHN WAKD, PREACHER, 
 
 " I won't," said Jim, while Bôbby responded. brietly, 
 ".G'on." 
 
 •' Well, you-know wheu' the cire ù s came, — you know the 
 pictures on the fences?" ' 
 
 '" Yes !" said the littleboys together. 
 '. *" 'Member the beautiful lady, ridin' on a horse, andstand- 
 iii' on oïie foot ?", - ' . ' 
 
 " Yes!*' the others cried, breathlessly. 
 
 '• Well," said Ellen.slowly and solemnly, "'When I get to 
 be a^big girl, that's what l'nu'going to be. l'rn tired of cate- 
 chispi, and chnrch, and those long blessings father asks, but 
 most of catechisui, so l'm gping to n\n away, and be a circus." 
 
 "Father 'Ucatch yoii," said Jim ; kit Bobby,.\vith envions 
 dépréciation added, — . , 
 
 " How do you know but what, (^rçtrses hâve catechism ?'' 
 
 Ellen did not notice tire lac)^ of sj'mpathy. " And Tnigoing 
 to begin to practice "jj^w," 8h(2 said. ' 
 
 " Then, while her brother;^ watched her, deeply interested, 
 'slie took ofî'her shoes,- and ïn her well-darned little red stock- 
 ings climbed cl€ilil)erately upQnuthrgrindstone. 
 
 ".Thisis my horse," shç said,.balancing hérself, with out- 
 stretched arms, on the stone, and niaking it revolve in a 
 queer, jerky fashion -by pressing.her feet on it as though it 
 were.a treadmill, " and it is bare-backed !" 
 
 The iron haudlecame downç.witti a thud, and Ellenlurcbed 
 to keep from fallnig'; the bdW un^j'isely broke into cheers, 
 
 It nïade a pretty picture, ihe sunbeams sifting thrôugh the 
 lilacs on the little fair ln^ds, and dancing over Ellen's wl}ite 
 apron and rosy face ; but ^rs/ Grier, who had conie to the 
 door at the noise of the cheel-s-, did not stop to notice it. 
 
 " Oh, you naughty children !" she cried. " Don't you kno\V 
 it is wicked tt» play ou the Sabbath ? Ellen's playing circus, 
 do you say, Bobby ? You naughty, naughty girl ! Don't you 
 know circus people are ail wicked, and don't go to heaVen 
 when they die ? I should think you'd be ashamed ! Go right 
 up-stairs, Ellen, and go to bed ; and you boys ean each leàru 
 a psalm, and yôu'U hâve no supper. either. — do you hear P*^ 
 
 -¥ ' 
 
 !l" 
 
 The cïïiHïen began. to cry, bu^t Mrs. Grier was firm ; and 
 when, a httle later, Helen came "doVn-atairsV ready foi- her 
 ride, the house was strangely ([uiet. Mrs. Giier, really troub- - 
 
 J " ■ ■ '"'' \ '■ " ■ ' 
 
.) 
 
 JOHX AVAUD, fKEAeHER. 
 
 177 
 
 if. 
 
 .•SI 
 
 .Mat her chiWren's sinfulness. confided their misde'eds to 
 
 Sr face'" "'' "'' ''''''''' ""'' '''' ''''''' ^^^^ Aashed t^ross 
 
 '' They were^such good cliildren to studv their catechism 
 
 first," she interceded, "and making a horse ont of a ' d 
 
 i'nftr''r-"'^'^^"^'^ti^" ^-hich might excuse the plaw!" " 
 
 But Mrs. Grier Nvas iiot côinforted, and only felt the moTe 
 
 eonvinced of the lost condition of Mrs. Ward's souI Th^ 
 
 conviction of other's people's sin is sonietime ' ver; pieas^n ' 
 
 émotion, so she bade her gaest goad-bv witi. muclPcordS 
 
 Helen told John of, the scène under the lij^sas thev • 
 
 g av e t. soe any hinuor m it. Indeed, his frame of mmd had 
 changed after he left liis wife for his second sermon 
 
 }^L^^ ?'?'}''' ''''' '''''^ ^''^ aistressedlu(.k.of 
 
 the last tew days settlcc down again 6n his file But H«.len 
 had regajned her sweet sereniïy and contât"; sh St so 
 certam that the darkness since Thursday hai beentle 
 shadow m which his sermon had beeri conceived that her le- 
 lef brought a ,oy which obscm-^ -any thoUght of re'.et that 
 he shoukl hold sucli views. ^ " ^ ^ '^o'*^i- l'i'it 
 
 Johii's Wl was bent, and liis liands Were cla%ed umjn his 
 let fînti V^ "'"' ''" ^'''''^y ^""' bet^eu l!l list- 
 '•^You are so Wd, John," Helen said regretfullv 
 He aiglied, as.thjough rousing Inmself from thcm^ht "A '^ 
 Uttlp dearest." midXthen Uissoifowful eyes smilcd " You 
 look so fresh and reàtecl, Helen. • It was wise for you to Jiê 
 dovvin this afterrroon.'^ ■• - ^ juu lo 41e 
 
 j;ph, but I didii't,"ke .aid quickly. " I was busy think- 
 
 He look at her eag^el-^ " Ves/' she continued, " I think 
 I knçw what hasdistressect>ûu 80 thèse few days 4êar\ It is 
 
 IfT fT\ '' »™W Ndreadful. a,uH »th yTZ 
 Jiol thmk it. But ,ve will ftoti' talk:«^^t iv-o# couL yôs 
 
 
 
 ■m.^. 
 
 '--il 
 
 i 
 
 
■ 
 
 Mil' 
 
 
 qn|| 
 
 178 
 
 JOHN WARD, PIIEACEER, 
 
 
 -Si 
 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 ; 
 
 
 
 l 
 
 . ' 
 
 H- ,^ 
 
 
 K 
 
 1 
 
 ï, 
 
 !?■ 
 
 would rather not talk about it, even to me, but I uinlerstaud." 
 She bent fàrward, and' smiled brightly, as she lèok^d at 
 him. But kis face was full oî\^riet - .f 
 
 " It was not that, Helen," he s^id; " it was soraething nearer 
 than that. It was remorse, because of late, for nearly a year, « 
 I hâve neglected my people. 1 hâve not admouished them ' 
 and warned them as I ought. And nearer still, because *î 
 [iave neglécied you." 
 ,« Me .'"she cpieii, too nmeli astonished,,to say piore.- 
 " Yes," he answ«red, his head bent again upou his breast, 
 vou my dearest, my best beloved,— yôu, who are dearer t^ian my 
 nie to me, dearer than u)^' happiiiess. I hâve known tfi^t you 
 hâve been far from truth :hat you hâve not believed, and^yet 
 I — I hâve been silent." \^.i 
 
 Helen looked at him, and tÇie siidden awful%hought tiashed 
 mto her mind that ,she did not knuw wliat he was sayini^, and 
 then she said with a gasp : " Oh, John, is that ail ? Hâve 
 you been 80 nnhapj.y ju^t ])ecause of that? Oh, you poor 
 fellow !" 
 
 She brouglit her h.nse close beside his, and laid her liand 
 on his arm. " Dear, what does it matter what I beheve or do 
 not believe? We love each other. And where is your tolérance, 
 John ?" She laughed, but the look of ^lierrible concern in his 
 face frightened her. 
 
 " Ah, Helen," he said, " such tolérance as yoiv.wotild hâve 
 me show wouhl l)e indifférence.'' 
 
 " Oh, John !" she said, and then began resoliijely to speak 
 of other things. ' 
 
 But soon they fell into sileiu;e, Helen longuig to get ^ome 
 ,and brush this useK's.s und foolishniixiety from her husband's 
 heart, and he aguinznig for his sin towàrds her and towards 
 her people. 
 
 ïhe late afteruoun sunshine gilded the tender green of the 
 fields, and 8lantiu<{ deep into tlie darkness <»f the woods, 
 toueh^d the rough trunks of the treès wilh gold. Long 
 shadows rtretched acress tll^^. i^oad, and the fra^ance which 
 steals out with the eveging dews hee^^.n to r.nmefrnni nnao^n 
 
 "Blossoms, and early el(Wer ; and a breath of the uncertain 
 
 uight wind ^ught hiqts of apple orehards or the pungent 
 
 .sweetiifiss of ' «olMrry-blossoms. They bad gohe more thau 
 
 "v. 
 
 ^. ■ ;, v,«^ . r- 
 
JOHN \VA«b, PllEACHEl?. 
 
 y. flowin» witli snaîl Mn,^ L/ roadsKle. The tjt-ugh, over- 
 found a hoiHe on itAw. Th " '"!"'''' """='■"» had "" 
 
 the co„l„es.s. Joî "nr/è a"^ 01'^ "f t^"'', '',''«''' "' 
 «lied it for his wi e A, 1^» T^ > , *""' '"'''"'' '«"'• «nd 
 
 curve of the road Hic, hm-r t„ ? ""'"^ *™'""' ">« " 
 
 tarried unt.l he camTho-n J 3 Lrl ','' "'«^y, "ight hâve 
 
 He spoke of chuS matters and' r ^^f ?""'' '''^'»y<'"- 
 their respective co^^re^SM-^d ^«f^'; A^-^«'."Wy, and 
 taio.i, lie said :_ ''-"^^'^"«a^ , and then, -with a little hesù 
 
 much Pleasul:! Yelrf .^u t^d:n,r;?of ^'h*';'^^- "^' 
 .uy nund i„ thé p,^p„ratr«„ of my Lrmon^ ' ' " ''"" '" '■ 
 
 a s^aJ^S.Tea^rd't^it T'a^tr^d^ "^ r ' ^^ J 
 
 ear to ear He movSd h;« i. ^ , ""***"■ *"' "^^'n froni - V 
 
 her answer, anS pTucked at hk' h^T'^'^u ?'' ^^ ™''«d for 
 Hel«. s.niled. • Md you t ink I ^h"" n '^^^ 't^" ^"^ers. 
 butor to foreis» missions! Mr'Gner * ^ " '"«^ ~'""- 
 
 of any^bènS^to ul hZ^n'' '"t'T."'^' " ' ™^ ■"* «>i»l'i»« 
 
 I .i/n.«ht .« o^^ï^îi^'^ir.rzî'î' 'o -^ '^-*<=^ 
 
 «: 
 
 -aa' m u, but 1 h,.ayo«r wëlfârea hlr^'V^,.!" 'H^'^ 
 youhaveu.ypraye«iry.:Xw?fr- ''"'*" ^'''''' 
 
 -y w«J il faf fClh'" W '• Ha"' """ r^' ""'*-' """■ 
 
 
 
 n 
 
 t 
 
 ■•t 
 
 . ■aà4 
 
180 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 * I 
 
 
 O 
 
 IS 
 
 "I hope 80,^1 hope k)," responded Mr. Grier but with 
 yery little hope in his, voicè ; and then, shakhm the reins he 
 jogged on down the shado.wy road. " ' ^ ' 
 
 ;• What -dpes he mean ? " cried Helen, her voice tiemblin-r 
 
 ., with anger, and careless whether therêtreating niinister over" 
 
 heard her.. John gave hei- a long, tender look ^ 
 
 j " Dearest," he said, "I ani sorry he shouîd hâve spoken, f 
 
 he did, but the prayer^ of a good nian " T 
 
 " I don't want his prayers," she interruj)ted, bewihlered • 
 
 it seems to me simply impertinence l" ] 
 
 " Helen," he sai4, " it cannot be impertinence to pray for -i 
 soûl in danger, as yours is, my dailing. I cannot tell how hé 
 knew it but it isso It is my sin which bas kept you blind 
 and hidden the truth ^rom you, and how can I be ànorv if 
 another man joins his prayers to inii|e for your etern.al salva-^ 
 
 " You say" this because I 
 ment, John ? '' she asked. 
 
 "Yes," he answered. gently, • first because of that an,l 
 then because of ail the errors of belief to which that leads " 
 "It ail seems sb unimportaht," she said, siohino- • " cer 
 tamly nothing which could make be claim the'^ravCTs of m 
 stranger. Ah, well, no doubt he means it kindlv.'but don't 
 let us speak of it any more, dearest." 
 
 Their horses were so close, that, glaneino shyli' about fer a 
 moment in the twilight, Helen laid her head against his arni 
 and looked tenderly into his face. 
 
 Ke stafted, and then put a qiiick atm about her to keep 
 her froni falling. - No," he said, " nof l ^vill not forg^t^' ^ ft 
 jvas as though he answered some voice in his souî, and HeleMi ■ 
 loôked at him in trouibleiiwander. \ 
 
 The rest of the ride was very silent. Once, when he- 
 stopped to tiêhten her saddle-girth for her, she bent his head 
 back, and smiled down into his eyes. He only answerefl her 
 by a look, but it was enou^h 
 
 do not believo in erernal punfeh- 
 becai 
 
 /-''- 
 
 Lo: 
 
 /r 
 
 ,V:J^ 
 
 ► ^Y 
 
 Gif 
 wheu 
 make 
 mindei 
 In spi( 
 -up in 
 AshuK 
 <^"gage 
 . spot ? 
 . "No 
 mind, ' 
 to see î 
 
 He 
 
 preache 
 
 i^ortec 
 
 V wished 
 
 "I t 
 
 such sei 
 
 'Angers, ; 
 
 làzily Wi 
 
 " I 0iou| 
 
 "The 
 
 vast de] 
 
 your mii 
 
 the heat 
 
 salvation 
 
 He U 
 
 knew La 
 
 "so-lS-esïï 
 
 ïhèn ] 
 
 plane, an 
 
 one or tw 
 
Wt* ' 
 
 ^^"^ifil^^^^' l'KEACHEli. 
 
 181 
 
 ^ ■ 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAPTER^ XTX. 
 
 
 -indeU very orifice tt ^J^ T' h? ""f ^'^^^"'- 
 In spite of his «fpmo.f . /v^»o' ^rip m the early spnn»^ 
 
 spot ? . ^ •'^ sliquW Critford Iniuself be ou the 
 
 laiiUy watchin»aloi.°whiL!hr""''"°',°'l'i''» "l'I"''* shop, 
 
 salvation, au,I make haste to aaw,Tt « ' ■'^ '° ""'' "«"^ ' 
 He looked hard at tll v™, ^ ^ " 'l"^ '"* unco.iverted." 
 
 plane, and threw thein on the fmgrai 
 one or two things which made gS 
 
 regukrly tîTcEuM-ch, 'andT 
 
 higs-^ut of hià-' 
 .i> at hiâ^et, said 
 f^B^ng ahd for. 
 
 
 m. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 '\l| 
 
 
 '■•Ï^^''H*' ■■ '*■ 
 
b:- 
 
 
 î > 
 
 182' 
 
 j- ^--^ 
 
 ., ^-n . JIOHN.WAKU, PREACH'ER. ji^ 
 
 f,'et hîs cigarette while hè ligtene^i witli a grave facç. " Uube- 
 lief ih the church," " the example for our youth," " the 
 herèsy of the preacher'iî wife." 
 
 This was not the first time Gifford had^eard such com- 
 ments, but there was a threat in Mr. Dean's voice, though he 
 did not put it into words, which made the young man carry 
 Ji growing auxiety about Heleii away with him. He could 
 not forget it even in thé rejoieings ôi his home-eoming, and 
 he gave utmrded answers alDout her which wçre unlike his 
 Usual frankness. | \ 
 
 Lois notioed it, and[won4èred a little, but was perhaps more 
 annoyed than trouble^' by it. 
 
 The shyness of her-welcome Gifford t^iiite "misunclerstood. 
 
 " After ail,'' he thought, " \vhatr, was the use of coming ? 
 Whatever F.oi?sythe's chances are, there is one sure thing, — 
 she does not care for nie. She used io hâve that old friendly 
 way, at Içast ; bût eveii that is gone now. I might hav^ 
 
 known it 
 Heaven, 
 
 pOCkçtS, "; 
 
 greatly dis 
 
 a fool to run into the tire again. Tliank 
 
 isn't hère. When lie cornes, l'Il go ! ' 
 îldered forlornly about, his hands in his 
 disconsolate look on his face which 
 d his aunts. Someliow, too, the big fel-. 
 îow's presencg for any length of time embarrassed them. 
 They had been so long wlthout a man in the house, they real- 
 ized suddenl^ that he took up a great deal of room, and that 
 their small subjects of conversation could not interest him. 
 
 " Perhaps/' said Miss Ruth, shrewdly, " he bas found some 
 nice girl in Lockhaven, and misses her. What do you think, 
 sister ? " />. 
 
 ". It is not impossible," iànswered Miss Deborah ; " but, 
 dear me, sister, if only Helen Jeffrey had not married so 
 young ! I always felt that Providence pointed to hier for dear 
 Giff." 
 
 " Well,'' said, Miss Ptuth, a little color creeping into her 
 cheek, "I think Providence does arrange such things, as 
 Helen seems much attached to Mr. Ward, no doubt that was 
 ^êântT^^ is^^^atifying^ to" thint mreh things always ar&^ 
 meant. I hâve even thought that when a person no longer very 
 young, even quite advanced in life, remains unmarried, it was 
 because the other, appointed by Heaven, died, tio doubt in, 
 infancy.^' 
 
' "^ "pr 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 183 
 
 m" 
 
 "Miss Deborah siiifîëd. " I should be sony to thiiik ail 
 marriages weie planned by Providence/' she said, "for it 
 Would seem that Providence showed very poor judgment 
 sonietirhes. Look at Henry Dale. Pm sure there vvere — 
 ofJicrs, who would hâve luade hini happier, and been quite as 
 fjood housekeepers, too." 
 
 Miss Ruth mentioned her suspicion" of .the " nice girl in 
 Lockhaven " to Lois, while Miss Deborah a^d that it was 
 really no pleasure to cook for dear Giff;^Pwas so out of 
 spirits he didn't seein to care for anything ; lie did not even 
 eat the whigs, and Lois knew how fond he was of whigs.' 
 Very Hkely dear Ruth was fight. 
 
 This made Lois's interest in Gifïbrd still deeper, though she 
 said, tossing her head with.airy impatience, that she did not 
 l)elieve there were any nice girls in Lockhaven ; there were 
 o»lv working people there. Then she thought of that talk 
 with Gifford at the stbne bench; and recalled the promise' she 
 had made, and how she had sealed it. Her cheeks burned 
 till they hurt her. 
 
 " He-has forgotten it ail, long ago," she said to herself; 
 " iiien never remember such tliings. Well, he sha'n't think I 
 remember !" • . 
 
 But how often Gifford remembered ! 
 
 One afternoon he walked over to the stone bench, and sat 
 <lown on the very sarae sunken step from which he looked 
 up into Lois's face that, June evening. He saw a bunch of 
 violets growing just where her foot must bave rested, and 
 what was more natural — for Gifford was still young— than 
 that pencil and note-book should appear, and, with a long- 
 drawn sigh, he should vvri^e hastily, — --^ / /" . 
 
 0, Violet, -/ , 
 
 Dost thou forget ?^ / 
 
 and then stop, perhaps to sharpen bis penciVand, if the truth 
 be toM, to cast about for a rhyme. 
 
 Alas, that love and poetry should bè checked by anything 
 80 com inenplaee as 8}41a ble8 ! -Le t — wet— y etr^one «eim^itr-^ 
 in the sensé easily when the proper rhyme has been decided 
 npon ; and \ylio knoWs but tl)at Gifford, lying thené in:,the 
 grass, wilih the old lichfen-covei-ed step for a desk, n*ght hâve 
 
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184 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 ■written a sonnet or a madrigal which vvould hâve given him 
 , his heart's .désire before the moou rose ! But an interruption 
 
 The rector and Mr. Denner were coming back froni fishin^r, 
 along the road on the other side of thè hedge, and Dr H»we 
 turned in hère to^ follow the garden path home, iustead of 
 taking the longer way. Both pushed thfough a gap in the 
 ben?h *^^^^«^«^^<i^^iffordlyingiifthegrassbfthe stoiie 
 
 "Hallo."' said the rector. " Working up a case, youn..- 
 man ?" " ^ > j o 
 
 l'erhaps Gifford was not altogether displeased to be inter- 
 rupted ; the song we might hâve sung is always sweetest. 
 At ail events, he very good-naturedly put his note-book back 
 <in his pocket, and rollitig over on his stoinach, his' elbows 
 crushmg down the soft grass and his fists under his chin he 
 gan to talk to the two elder men. 
 
 " Had good luck ? " 
 
 The rector shook his head ruef ully. "Denner has fwo trout. 
 J^ ate was against me. Any flshing about Lockhaven, Gifïord ? 
 vyard do any ? " 
 
 Gifford laughed. " He orily fishes for men," he said. " He 
 dévotes himself to it day and night. Especially of late ; his 
 tear of hell-fire for other peopleV soûls has seemed to take 
 great hold on hfm." 
 
 " Gad ! " said Dr. Howe. He's a queer fellow." 
 
 "He's a good fellow," Gifford answered warmly. " And as 
 
 ^u ' ^^^' ^°" ^®^^®^® ^^ ^^1^' <io»'t yo«. doctor ? " 
 "Oh, bless my soûl, y es," said Dr. Howe. with a laugh, and 
 with a twinkle in his eyes. "I must, you know, and it's well 
 to be on the safe side, Giff"; if you believe it hère, theoreti- 
 caUy, it 18 tobe supposed you won't believe it there experi- 
 mentally ! ' He laughed again. his big, jolly laugh. « Good- 
 by, Denner. You took ail the luck." ^ 
 
 Then he trudged whistling up the path, striking at the 
 hollyho*ks with his rod, and wonderini? how long it would 
 ■take Sallyjtobiaish the niud-offJvifjporduroy s. 
 
 ^ut Mr. Denner delayed. He laid his rod tenderly down 
 oir the gr^, and his fishing-basket on the stone bench beside 
 him. Gifford's s^nse of humer padded a good many of the 
 
 4, 
 
 % 
 
 
 ■•^1 
 
 >'..';>.. 
 
m-^ 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 185 
 
 that the lawyer had chosen Lois's seat, andeveu her attitude : 
 w««li VT^^^ hands were clasped upon liis knees, and he 
 
 Gifford thought of a sonnet m his left breast- pocket, be-iii- 
 
 • 2éd """^ ' '^^^ '"^^^*' """^^^'"^ poplar-tree," Ind 
 
 \i : We"' ^^«^''' «^d Mr.-Penner, " it is pleasant to see you 
 
 at home again, Gifford. It inust bè^a pfeasure to your aunts " 
 
 It is â greali pleasure to ine," the young man replied " I 
 
 / only wish that I could carry them back to Lockhaven with 
 
 me. ^ 
 
 " What, both of thera ?» Mr. Dernier asked, in an alarmed 
 way. . 
 
 o '1^^' w?''^'''^^'" ans^ered the other ; they eouldn't be sep- 
 arated Why, you cannotthink.of one of them without think- 
 mg ot tne other ! 
 
 th^^" ■^'""^' •'^^^'^' " '^"'^ '"' '^''^ '^' I ha^^ «bserved 
 
 " But l'iii afraid," Gifford went on, " they wouldn't be quite 
 
 ^TIcl"''\ ^^T'? "° ^^^^^^^' -y-^ ^^"^— î ^^«-« no Kpis! 
 
 thff vl;^ w r^ T ?"^^ ^''^^"^" P^^Pl^' though, for'., 
 that natter, Ward works barder than anybody else Yes 
 they would miss Ashurst too much." " 
 
 " You really think they would mis^-<is ?" said Mr Deii, 
 ner eagerly. * ' T* 
 
 ïnnw';i, T^^"/^^^ Gifford slowly. He was beginning to : 
 80 k.t'erest'im"'' '"''^'^' again. and his aunts dfd notseem ' 
 
 . " Well, iiow" Mr. Denner said, " I am sure I am glad to 
 assuTy^ou '5^ ''' ''^ ^^^''' We-ah-should miss ttem. ï 
 Gifford reaohed out and plucked up the violets by the roots 
 tosave therafrom Mr Denner'sdmb^gaiter.andpdtedZm 
 ' aeep m a crevice of the stem 
 
 ^' 
 
 r** 
 
 ri'!>i 
 
 reasonable time for answer. "a-a friend of mine is in some 
 ^^\^^^y ^^^^ming an attachment ; lie wished my advice:" ' 
 Gifford began to lodk interested. ' " ^ 
 
 " Foreclosure ?" * ^ 
 
 tôt.') '' .■J^M,'^)&Mé^'mi&àiL'A'i<îMA^^IiA.^iîI^'étft^i^-i^^^ 
 
 J^* 
 
B?" - 
 
 m. 
 
 186 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 " You— ah, you do not exactly catch my meaninff,' 
 
 an- 
 
 swered the httle gentleiuan nervously. " I refer— he^ referred 
 to an afïair of^of the affections. Of course you are too 
 young to really ujiderstand thèse things from a— a roraancic 
 point of View, as it weie, but being a lawyer. your— a— le«al 
 traimng— woiild make you consider such a matter inteUi- 
 gently, and I might like your advice. "^ ' • 
 
 "Oh !" said Giffbrd, seeming to gi-asp the situation. V Yes • 
 1 had one case of that kind in Lockhaveo. Jury gave dam- 
 ages to my chent ; seems they had been engaged twelve years 
 when she jilted him-— I detest thosebreach-of-promise suite ;. 
 
 Mr. Denner bounded froni his seat. " My dear boy my 
 
 ■ dear sir," he gasped, " not at ail, not at ail ! You do uot ap- 
 
 prehend me. Giffbrd. My friend is in love, sif; he wished 
 
 my advice, noÇ legally, you understand, but in regard to his 
 
 choice!" ° ^ 
 
 " Yonr advice !" Giffbrd bujst out, but instaiitly ap&ogized 
 by saying he believed it vvas not usual to ask- advice in such 
 matters,— a mau usually knew. But perhaps he was mis- 
 taken. 
 
 "Yes— I am inclined, to think you are,'* responded Mr. 
 Dealer, with a jauntines^ which sat strangely imon his 
 wnnkled, face,—-' I think you are. Being still a véÊÊÊonn» 
 person, Giffbrd, you scarcely understand the impUlRce o1 
 such matters, and the— ah— wisdom of seeking aclfvice. I be- 
 lieve it is always said that youth does not realii^é'the impor- 
 twice of advice. But the fact is, my frieud has placed his 
 affections upon twu ladies. They are connections, and both 
 he represents to be estimable persons ; both, as I understand 
 it, equally admirable. Equally, you observe, Giffbrd. And ' 
 he^is unable to make up his mind which is the most— I 
 1 should say *he more— désirable. I, unfortunately, was un- 
 able to throw any light upon the subject." 
 
 '' Do yotï know the young ladies ?" asked Giffbrd. 
 " I—I may^ay I hâve met them," admibted Mr. Denner 
 •' And how did you advise him ?" Giffbrd asked, his face 
 r^teraatmùHy grave 
 
 • K 
 
 Mr. Denner looked anxious. " ïhat is just it. I hâve beea 
 iinable to corne tb any conclusion. I wondered if— if I spoke 
 
 
 ,!■:■.■• ^-A 
 
 •,\ 
 
 7 
 
 / 
 
lâï^ 
 
 .Ei*~ 
 
 "* 
 
 JOHN WARIî, PREACHEPu 
 
 187- 
 
 ^ of their charactensfics in a gênerai way (they are both sa 
 tru y estimable) you might hâve an opinion. He did think he 
 cdMM reach a décision, he tells me, fora friend of his thoUc-ht 
 lie knew a proverh which would throw a light upou it " " 
 " bettte it by a proverb !" cried Gifford 
 
 «Yes/'answeredMi. Denner-firmly/'yes; and an excel- 
 lent way it would be, if one could find the proverb" 
 
 rhe «ir of ofïended dignity in Mr. Denner's face sobered 
 tritiord,at once. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," he said ; " the method was new 
 ' roi^rlv?'- '^ '^' "" '^''"^^' ^''^^"®"^- ^% I ask the 
 But the lawyer was hurt. " It is not worth while to men- 
 tion it. It was not-not siiitable. It did not enable my friand 
 to whLt '' '"'''"' ^^^^"^ ^^^ ' '^ "^^^ "^^^^1^ someting in regard 
 
 Giftord hid his face in the grass for a moment, and then 
 he said agam, " I-I beg your pardon, Mr. Dennef ; it struck 
 me as an unusual way of settling a love aftair.- Your friend 
 must hâve been much disappointed ?" 
 
 " He was he was, sir," ans^ered Mr. Denner, not knowln^r 
 whether to be angiy or iiijured, and picking up his réel and 
 rod with tremblij^g hands. - 
 
 " Well now,-^ittord srticl, sitting up and leaniug his arm»: 
 uponhis knees.'the laughter stilh glimmering in his gray 
 eyes, ' I could give you a proverb,--unless they aretwiSs^ 
 • IXr^' ^^ner sat down again on, the stone bench, and looked 
 at liim erfgerïy. 
 
 ^ ** No, Gifford, they are not twins,— no. Xh"feii*i8 a aood 
 teii years between them." ' - v 
 
 "Then, said the young man, " what does vo^ir friend want 
 dder" °^ ^^^''"^ beauty'? Let him .propose to the 
 
 Mr Denner laid his rod down upon the grass, and, rising, 
 extended his hand to his companion. o , , o» 
 
 " Gifford," he said, " you are an intelligent young man,— 
 ^^gmaj^able yoaag m a n, air.- 1 kne w it whenl dêiennmër- 
 
 to ask your advice— for my friend. I thank you. My— mv 
 friend thanks you Gifford. He will act iipon this at once.he 
 is forever indebted to you, sir." 
 
 (• 
 
 -m : i. 
 
 
 
 '"% 
 
 k-irf 4. 
 
 tii 
 
 
'"X.- 
 
 188 
 
 JOHN W^RD, PIIEACHEIJ. 
 
 it was ail so sojemn that Gifford's (rnvifv lo.f^ i r-i .i 
 But Mr. Deniier was happy. He faiily beamed as he walked 
 
 alou 
 
 , — — ffj- ^^c irtuiy ueameaas new 
 repeatirig the proverb to himself. " Yes " he 
 
 iiiwgiit of it. Age before beaiityl' Yes, just so— iust so ■" 
 
 • While he was meditating thus happi y l,e heaKrilh „ 1 
 
 lum that eurious. irregular beat ^.bJZw ,e htfs of a ïuù 
 
 away horse ean nmke, and the whirl of ftyii.V „Cs swin 
 
 .g from s,de.to side. He sprang to oneUe o7the o^d Z" 
 
 ee tli^'lCv Z7''' 3uddelfright, a«d looked b^cic t^ 
 
 instantly it flashed thro^l^h Ms't; d. '"' t Ts^o^n^'ort";.'" ' 
 
 shock of the encounter with the plu„gin.T horse • his 1^1^ 
 uerves, aever very «rm, were struh^ likS steel sJmehow t 
 that mstant of waiting, the proverb was foroottr he iwt 
 that fate would décide for hiin. « It slmll be chisonil" h 
 
 l'dwTolT" ""^ r r ^'«» "■« "0" see'nfd'u^o: Lm 
 he d d uot know when he made that jamp at the bridle ô^ 
 
 sensé of seeing the gray figure thrown outupon the Cind 
 
 CsoTouteS""' "'"'"" ^''"-=" '-''"-" T"- Srn! 
 
 Whenhecame to himself, and, saw the trPPs «nri ù..u 
 
 tenTfff "■""' '"T '»'" -»-»t he W'tht h" 
 •GM<«?wS "^r"» «"« g™«« <" the roadside, andxttiat 
 «Jinoid Woodhouses arm was under his head A., i,;^^ 
 _|rew steady. hesawthat twn mmZ^^SL.tà^^^^'^-- 
 WaimngBorse, and that a littU^o^^te^e were s3* 
 u.g atout the phaeton ; but the gray figure C dS^v^' 
 
 ^ -ni ^ Ij^ .^ n 
 
'm: 
 
 JOHN WA1{D, PREACHEIÎ 
 
 18;)- 
 
 ;;Gifford/' he said faintly-'' ah-which r' 
 ^hey are neither of them Jiurt tRanl P " i ,' \ 
 
 M,, ritr ■'■""• '^"^^ '-and M^ Fo^r..""^ ^^•'s'-- 
 
 "I'marraidthisisvenSBs?£ '" » '"«Voie*. 
 
 • Iwmovednow?" ^ "«""«s, <ioctor. Doyou thinkJheçan 
 
 hini gently, and carried hi rintn i^- "' P'/"' ^^^^ ^''^ed 
 
 Lois was aài: to 11" and'Tfa^' nT ^^"'^^^'"'-^^' ^"^ 
 Forsythe was unhurt s^ve ilr H ^^''f'^ Je ascertained Mrs. 
 
 ^•arried her back to the rector T n^l !r "'^^^- ^^^^>' '^^'^ '' 
 
 and eryi,)g hysterically ^ ' -'' ^^'"-'"^' ^« one linip hand. 
 
 tt th' '"^^' '^ '^ •' orwi^shaiTrr?^" ^ ^'^^ ^^ -^'^' 
 
 •^a';;;^ — -:;:^ m, ^ho had heen 
 
 wider than Miss DebomhWo7w^ ^"-^ ""^«'"« ^as even " 
 to bed. «to oet heroirnf fh ^'^"«?k«eping,-only put her 
 -use she waî fillJStt^^^^^^^ be- 
 
 and felt that the force f„]ne^^nf{ ^' ^^"^ "^"^^'« ^eniorse, ' 
 for her. ^''''J.^ttulness of sleep w^s the only comfort 
 
 airof eontemptuous Sitv ^' T k r^'*^7' ^"'^P^'^^ J^an's 
 T; ^lWacl^„c: tod^Sto ^^h^f V'^'^^^^^^^^— 
 
 positive .satisfaction to her l4 «S ^^'"^.^"S: ^^ wiU be a 
 sick woman " • "^ ^^^^^^ she is reallv a very 
 
 ' r- 11, 
 
 
 - './; 
 
 ^'4 
 
 4, 
 
 
 >*iii«^'in;.'ifî .f'ii&a W« •<». ■»;. j^ .t . 
 
 V .'■ 
 
190 
 
 JOItN WARD, PftEACHEK. 
 
 But uo such thought did she impart to Late, wlieii she 
 tucked hernp,.in bed, <,aving hera liearty kiss with^ier snoth- 
 ing draught, and'rt)id4ing her liave^soine sense'and sti»p crv- 
 mg. for Mrs. Fôrsythe vvould be a'il right in tlie morniti'. 
 But theiiiormug broughfiioomfort; the doctor, who had 
 conie troiii Mercor as <|uick-ly as Mrs. Dale's horses conld 
 bring him, was very grave. .' 
 
 •■,^he shouk to the nervmts sykem," lie aaid,— " we caniiot 
 tell what it vvill do." 
 
 ^ Lois was s(. prostrated by grief at Mrs. Forsythe's coiidi- 
 tion, no one dared tell ber that Mr. Déinier was the immédi- 
 ate anxiety Thère was an iiijury to the spine, and the plung- 
 ing hoots had doue more harni than was at first supposed : 
 tlnngs looked very serions for the little gentleman 
 
 The lawyer had fainted when he^was lifted over his gloomv 
 thresbo d where Mar^ stood waiting and wringing her hands 
 and had struggled back to consciousness to tind himself on 
 the big, slippery horse-hair sofa, in his dusky Hbrary Dr 
 Howe was standing at his side, looking anxiously down at 
 him and a iieighbor was trying to slip a pillow under his 
 head. Giliord had gone to help Mary bring a bed down- 
 stairs for the slightest movement caused Mr. Denner pain 
 and they dared not lift him, even ,to take him un to his bed.' 
 room. * ' ^ 
 
 "What is the inatter ?" Mr. Dernier tried to say. « I seem 
 
 -, ^^ be giving trouble. Ah^pray do not mind me, doetor " 
 
 % ïoa Were hurt, you know, Dernier," said théréciîor, whose 
 
 - eet were planted wide apart, and his hands thrustdown in 
 
 us pockets, and who felt oppressed by the consciousness of 
 
 • lus own superabundant vitality, for the lawyer lopked so 
 
 small and thin, and his voice was hardly more than ^ whis- 
 
 l^\ n-J'^"":^ ^^^" ""^^^^ ^^int- You'U be ail right soon. 
 
 But Uff s gomg to put a bed up in hère foif you, because you 
 
 might hnd it uncomfortable to try to get up/staira, you know " 
 
 Mr. Denner looked anxious at this ; he wondered if Marv 
 
 wouW not be offended ; but he was too strangely weary 'to 
 
 -^il^i"^"^^ twin^ling eyes weredimand blurred. ■ 
 
 --^Gifford and Mary had camëriôwn the four ISig posts Of 
 
 Mr. Denner s bed, which looked like mahogany obelisks, and 
 
 toegan toput it together, with many interruptions for Mary 
 
 
we caniiot 
 
 JOHN WAIUJ, PREA^IIEK. jg^ 
 
 »here she woulcl "ver ?et aucnitf "'? ''"' »'"■ ""^ 
 
 seemed tQ hear her. Nor did h^l.5 °\ '"^ ''"'^ ««"^«iy 
 
 ■the front door, i,, the W™„?T ■''" "'îl''™»'! «»tstone at 
 he beckone,! Gifford to hîm ^""^ '''"^'Shl. Afterwards 
 
 night ;t :::;j"i'\K%-r,' '» -- 1,. .d „ut ov». 
 
 ■t wouidn't be too md,.h'WM ""W'^'. he knew, but if 
 
 with bis conîpliment, J„ m ^Î2? """"Sh to preseut them 
 at the.rectory. ""' *!'"■ '''><='^ "'thout an inquiiy 
 
 l'-the"ftnÏTlfiffe'"he^'^ ''"; "'"^.-' weU, a. I told- 
 
 naturally, she's in aZ!f \- 7 *?'*"■ wonJorful to sav • but 
 for the whole ^hjjîg?^" *'"^^' ^"^ *e blâmes M 
 
 .tfc^o/'asked Gifford. 
 
 "> her eyes,JSof c^nrse if ' n "'"' " «««Picious mis* 
 we mustn/le't her tao7we think^o^'t. """ ''"''«• ««'y 
 dnvmg (IVe always â«d wofnl ^ •! , ^°" "«V"''» was 
 they're too iuconsequentl ^Zl v' '^"^ *>»»' t" *ive; 
 horses, and let a rain ,1 „ 1^^™,^ P''^'"^ »"«"«» to he^ 
 horse shied at « !„ P' ,,'"'* ^''e ^ould pick it un th„ 
 
 you knot the rest ZT ï""'"'' '^""^ ">« '^- WeU 
 was her oareleCL ■? " ''°*' """^""^ "-at we think it 
 
 «"itt'lt,: rSCl "^V"'^ ^'-'^''" B- 
 There is no use to try to eL'I Sf? ""* '"i"' of itnow? 
 iheir roots in fa Uj " v P° sel f-r epro&ches that bsTO- 
 
 hadïreTn.UVT'"'^ *^- "«'« ^'^'r- "I thoughtyou 
 «.fford had told his aunts of the acciden.:„hen he teought 
 
 jffi 
 
 
 hâ 
 
 ^- 
 
192 
 
 JOHN wXkd, PREACI^. 
 
 tull of distress and anxiety. and the flatter of excited in- 
 
 They had gone at once to the. rectory, to see if they could be 
 of^nse though, as Miss Deborah said to her sister/' vvith 
 Adèle Dale theie, of cpiirse there is nothing mçrq be desired " 
 Neverthel?ss, the ne.t morning. Miss Ruth ran ove^ with a 
 
 *ttl Mrf "f ''"^A"" ^''' ^^"^^ ^^^^^ b-"^^' ^-'k Word 
 that Mrs lorsythe was " stif breathing ; " and that thé 
 gravest appréhensions were felr^for Mr. Donner 
 
 Miss Deborah. was waiting in the parlor to hear the news- 
 so important an occasion seenied to' de m and the dij^nity of 
 the parlor and in a high-backed armcliair. witli her f?et on a 
 oricket and a fresh handkerehief in her hand, she listened to 
 Jliss Rnth's agitated and tearful story. 
 
 " I will makesonie whip^ for William Dernier" she said 
 
 fv,-"il^^^î^^"î: ^'"'^'C '"^^ ^'^^ ^"t^' hesitating, " dp you 
 ^^'!^Wu'^T ^f "7i!^»S'^t not we to let Gifï' take them ?" 
 l,e ,.>y ■ .^'^^'^ ^^''^ Deborah. « He is able to see us, is n't 
 
 " It is iiot quite that," answered ' the younger sister ner- 
 
 t7au!V^^'''^ f ^' ^^""f ' ^"^ beginningtomllthe strings 
 tight and smooth between her Angers, " but— he is in— h1<^ 
 chamber, sister. Would it be quite— proper?" 
 
 "I think," said Miss Deborah, holding her head verv 
 straight, " we are old enough to "— ^ . 
 
 ^JJoumay be," returned Miss Ruth firmly, '• but I am 
 
 ^^ Miss Deborah was silent for a moment; then she said, 
 Well, perhaps y ou are right, dear Ruth ; though he his cer^ 
 tainly very ill, and dit! n'tyou say he was in th? library ?» 
 
 Yes, said Miss Ruth, " he is very ill, but the fact of bis 
 couch being in the library does not alter it If auythilig sad 
 should be going so happen,-it would be différent, then.-^ 
 Ut ©ourse,' assented Miss Deborah 
 
 ^^^^-Ife Eutju.explained^«.^w^^^s^^^^ 
 ten he got well, it would be very awkward " 
 
 True," said Miss Deborah. '• And certainly single wornan 
 
 ^%>^J:lJ.» Ï,À£. t.^ ^^ ^ « ^ 
 
I, 
 
 -JOHx Waiid, preacher. ^93 
 
 ^ ^^ot at .ill, saul M,s Deborah firrnly, " he was mine." 
 
 
 .'r-^ 
 
 
 .'^'^î 
 
 \' 
 
 CHAPTER XX. - „ 
 
 The suspense Was Verv hm-rî f«,. T • ir 
 
 When Afis Hoir,! ■• , ^^V^^ -^"'^ Howe'to bear. 
 
 to Mr. Denner's ,l(,or to be f vvnr I r '''^°'^' ^^ ^^«^ 
 
 Mary, cr take a iuome^,ur;y coX fr^"'';r'^''"^^^ ^^"^ 
 sent her that he was bêt te? and t l '/^' niessageslRe 
 allow herself the sl/ahte"rVl^H f ^^•"*''^ "''^^ ^°^ld not 
 . co„seq„ence.-n: ti:^^T:!^' ' '' '''' ''^^'^^ ^^ - 
 
 arassy Street with Lo s On i ^ ^'^""t '^'' gartten to the 
 ,?fternoon, he wei homXi?h\ ""^"'\^^"^'^^' ^'^^^ i° the 
 ^ she hacl cime wa ^ t^'^^ her ; for Mr. Dale. with whom" 
 
 Giffordfelth^rdfbTsp^reV.^'^'^^' Mr. B^nner. and 
 
 was.a breath of Sranôe fro^. ""^V^\^^*^^^^ ^^^^s. There 
 
 clear and fresh. Their>shadoCs rLhp 1 £ ^ f ^^^^ystal- 
 road^-where the dusf wa« «/^iT^ ^f^ ^^^ ^^^^^ along the 
 
 — r:^s n^tfrere any êhanaâ r« nir^?' t^ .. :T 
 
 ■*"t *h 
 
 
 with anxious sympathy 
 l^ois ahook her head. *- No," shé said. 
 
 ■if- 
 
 m 
 
 » ■ 
 
 r 
 
 
 ■■1 ^f ; , 
 
 ' r. 
 
 
 
 3^-Îjil^^î^ (*î^, it*L^ Jfc^' * 
 
 a-^ 
 
 
JOHN WARI), PREACIIER. 
 
 7 ' • ' 
 
 ' j ■' '' 
 
 r Has u't the jecfor gotten wont to her sort yet ?" 
 "•No." Lois ^d again. - We telegraphed twice. l/ut hu 
 si^s to be out of tovv^n, and nobody knov^s h'is address " 
 ^jinord made no comment. 
 
 "Lwishhe>vould corne!" the girl cried passronately '• Ifc 
 would.be a relief to hâve him reproach me." . ' 
 
 tJi^ ^^'^P.^,t^ere^ will be no need of reproaches. I do hope hi.s 
 /^mother wiU ^t well." ' ' * 
 
 -• '' Oh, no, rio," Ms said, " she vvon't ! I know it " ' 
 
 ' ïry to be moie hopeful," he urged. /• The 'doctor said 
 -aère was absolutely no injury excopt the shopk. ,1 believ(^ 
 I sKe wiU get \VelI, Lois." ' - ^. ^ '^"^^*' 
 
 'h, yoii don't know hei'," Loiâ ansvvered. "Vou doii't 
 ,', kno\^iow frail she is. And then there's Mr. Denner ' It is 
 ,;^ th^rësWibility of it^liat kilLs me.^ïitt-! I cannot get awav, 
 tr^m it for one Single minuça*\ . => . ^ 
 
 Xhey h>d walléedalongthe road whofe the accident had 
 taken place, aticj' Lois shivered as she sav;^ the trampled <-rass 
 though it had been. her vvish that they should èome"" thiq 
 
 -way. , . . •' 
 
 " Oh," she said, putting her hands over her eyes, " life caii 
 u^ér look the same to me, even if, they get well !"' 
 • . -. i'.Isro,".(îifford said, " I understand that. But it may hâve 
 
 a new sweetnéss of gratitude, Lois." 
 V When they came to the gap in the hedge whieh was the 
 ' outlet for the rectory path, .Uifibrd held aside the twicrs for 
 ; her to enter. ' ' *' j 
 
 " Let us ?it down on the stone bench a little while" he 
 
 said. " This-iS wjiei;^ poor little Mr.- 'Deniier sat that âfter- 
 
 ; noon. Oh," he added in a lower tojie,'" just think froin what v 
 
 ■a grief he may hâve saved us ! I feeL»s though I could never 
 
 { ^ 1 ^° ^^"^^ ^""^ "^^ gratitude." ïhen .1m3 looked àt the 
 
 3/Cransplanted bunch of ïiolets, which was fresh and flourishiiK' 
 
 and was sileht. , "' 
 
 Lois sat down aJittle reluctantly. The raemory. of that 
 
 i June night, nearly a year ago, flashed into her mind • she felt 
 
 the color creep up to her forehead. " Oh," she ffhought « how 
 
 .^^ontemptible I-^aa tô ba^ve any thought but grief,— tew shal^ 
 
 Jow I am, how crud !" . ' 
 
 . And to punish herself for thîs, she rushed into speakina of 
 her responsibility agam. * 
 
 \: 
 
 
 t«JLÎ>.^L^ 
 
 
'^ 
 
 that X niust not «nve him ^ ff^. ' f/" ,^«»n«»' lias .sent word 
 
 ,^jP^Vr..sed her h.uis tl,B together to .eep her self- ' 
 '' ^o, Lois," he îiiiswered oeûtlv ■' if ,• ^ . • 
 
 than you must." ' ''^"-J '^^^'"^ yourrself any more '• 
 
 noblatne,Gifford." "^ °^^^" ■ ^^hey say there is 
 
 wouWIetmehelpyougariV'"'""'''^"- I-rWishy„r ; 
 at th^fèot of th,e steps. ^' «^«-turned to say good-night , 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 «es 
 
 '# 
 
 *T 
 
 .'# 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 :iT 
 
 
 i t 
 
 fif&aii^-i^; yk. 
 
 ,iKt^~. ^^:s , j^i 
 
 
'»i-' •"^." 
 
 
 rr 
 
 196 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 "Youcannot," she answered briefly. "No one can;.and, 
 there's nothing I can do to make up for it. I caunot evéh die 
 as an atonement. Oh, if I could only die !" ' , 
 
 Gifford walked back, distreseed and shocked ; he was not 
 old enoughjet toknow diat the désire of death ig part pf 
 youth, andît sèemed as though he too hàd incurred a great 
 responsibility, " What a brute I was to say it !" he said to 
 himself. " I feel as though I had struck a woman. And it 
 made her wish she was dead> — gobd heavens ! How cruel I 
 ^ -was ! Yet if it was true, it nmst hare been right to tell her ^ 
 I suppose it was my brutal way !" 
 
 Lois went at once to Mrs. Forsythe's bedside, eager to hem- 
 of some improvement, bul the invalid only shook her head 
 tï^arily. ^ 
 
 ■ " "No, no better," she said ; "still breathirig, that's ail. But 
 you must not grieve ; it only distresses me." 
 
 Lois knelt down, and softly kissed her hand. 
 
 "^ys^only trouble," Mrs. Forsythe continued, "is about 
 my boy. Who will takecare of him when I am gone ?'' 
 
 She -said much more than this, and perhaps even Giftbrd's 
 persistent justice could not hâve sustained the conviction that 
 he had donc right to tell Lois that the blâme of the accident 
 rested upon her, if lie; had known the tàoughts of a possible 
 atonement which pàssed through her '.mjnd; when Mrs. For- 
 sythe spoke thus of her son. It was riot*the first time since 
 - her injury that she had told Lois of her anxiety for Dick's fu- 
 ture, and now the girl left her with a dazed and aching heart. 
 
 Mrs. Dale, fuU of importance and authority, met her in the 
 hall. 
 
 " l've got somc beef-tea for Arabella Forsythe," she 'said, 
 balancing the tray she carried on one hand, and lifting the 
 white napkin with the other to see that it was ail right, "if 
 I can only persuade her to take it. But there ! I must not 
 be hard on her; she is pretty sick, I must say, — and how she 
 does enjoy it ! I s^id she would. But reàlly, Lois, if wedon't 
 hâve some word from that young man soon, I don't know 
 
 "wfeat we^all dô/fôr sbe is ceftâinly worse to-night. Toiïr 
 father has just had a letter from somebody, saying that he 
 went awa'J with some friends on a pleasure trip, and didn't 
 leave bis address. I thought he was so anxious to get to 
 
 ■^l'-; 
 
 :';**i,»4i<. 
 
>*A 
 
 JOHIJ-WAED, PREACHER. 
 
 ■■f'^S'W^ 
 
 19T 
 
 tflTÂ~^^^^' u^* '' ArabeUa's story. I should ii't wonder 
 2^didn t see his mother aliv^,-that's aU IVe got to say !" 
 
 -rn^A^^Hh^'' ^^^^^ ^^^^' ^"^ disappeared into the sick- 
 ^ ?r L(t^ad a sudden contmction of the heart that made 
 her lips white. " If aunt Deely says Mrs, Forsythe is worse, 
 it is surely very bad. 
 
 - She stumbled blindly up-stairs ; she wanted to get away 
 from everybQfly, and look this horrible fact in the fac: She 
 tound her way to thegairet, whose low, wide window, Ml of 
 little panes of heavy greenish glass, looked over the tree-tops 
 towards thejestern sky, still'faintly yelîow with sunset light, 
 and barred by long films of gray cloud. She knelt down and 
 laid her cheek against the sill, whioh- was notched and whit- 
 tled by ehildish hands ; for this h|fceen a play-room once, 
 -and many a ramy afternoon she anTTHelen and Gififord had 
 speiit hère, masquerading in the queer dresses and bonnets 
 packed away m the greenchestsranged against the wall. or 
 swinging madly in the little swing which hung from the bare 
 raiters, until the bunches of southernwood and sweet mar- 
 joram^nd the festoons of dried apples shook on their nails. 
 
 hi/"P-^ !.^Î%'*T.^''^^^^^'^^^^^^ 0» <^he sill, and a 
 Dig trtfford hackedjnto the wood, and she followed the 
 letters absently with her finger. 
 
 ./>"^^i^^"^? '^i^;' ®^^ ^*^^ ^^ herself; "he sees the truth 
 otit How shall 1 make up for it ? What can I do ?" 
 
 She stayed by the window until the clouds turned blackii' 
 the west ; down in the heavy darkness of the garden the 
 cnckete began their monotonôus è-z-ing. and in the locust 
 trees the katydids answered each other with a sharp, shrill 
 cry. ihen she crept down-stairs and sàt outside of Mrs. 
 nSl «-T""' ?î^ '^^ "^'^^^ ^^«^ *h« «ligîitest Sound, or 
 at the baîside ' °^g^<^-la°iP ^urning dimly on the stand 
 
 Gifford, sitting in another sick room,.wa8 sufïering with her, 
 and blaming himself, in spite of principle. 
 ^L Denoe r l ay i n Ma b i g b edi n tha middle cl fefae Ub mry i^ 
 Ihe blinda were drawn up to the tops of the long, narrow 
 ^2ÏT1 h^i ^^/ i^ï «leam of light might ente?, but the 
 small table which held the medicines. 
 
 f'%i 
 
 
 .4 
 
 t 
 
 
 a 
 
 ''" 
 
 'SI 
 
 '.'1 
 
 
 ::J^,K^iiiMi^ «.A..'';„.i,i-./,'i.'-«. "a,*.. 
 
 . f • 
 
 'ipà'PS'''U 
 
inafJs^,«f^;H*':-' v: 
 
 108 
 
 JOHN WAED, PREACHER. 
 
 I thmk, said Mr. Denner, folding his little hands upou 
 his breast,— " I think, Gifford, that the doctor was Dot quite 
 fi-ank with me, to-day. I thought it prpper to ask hirn if my 
 iiijury ^^^as at ail of a serions nature, if it might hâve— ah— I 
 ought to apologize for speaking of unpleasant things— if it 
 might hâve an untoward ending. He merely remarked that 
 au injuries had possibilités of seriousness in them ; he ap- 
 peared m haste, and anxious to get away. so I did not detain 
 him, thmking he might hâve an important case elseVhere. 
 J^ut it seemed as though he was not quite frank, Gifïbrd ; as 
 though, in fact, he evaded. I did not press it, fearing to em> 
 barrass hini, but I think he evaded." 
 
 Gifford also evaded. " He did not say anythir.o whieh 
 seemed evasive to me, Mr. Denner. He was busy channna 
 me to remember your m'edicines, and he stopped to say a 
 ,word about your bravery too." 
 
 Mr. Denner shook his ïiead deprecatinglv at this but hé 
 seemed pleased. " Oh, not ail, it was nothing,— it was of no 
 conséquence." One of the shutters blew softly to^ and dark- 
 ened the room ; Gifford rose, and leaning from tfie window 
 fastened it back,against the ivy which had twisted about the" 
 hmge Irom the stained bricks of the wall. " I cannot claim 
 any bravery," the sick man went on. " No. It was as it 
 V ère, accidentai, Gifford." 
 
 T k ^^J^^^^^^l ^" said the young man. " How coùld that be ? 
 1 heard the horse, and ran down the road after the pliaetS» f 
 just m time to see you make that jump, and save her " 
 
 Mr. Dernier sighed. "No," he replied, "no, it was quite 
 by chance. I— 1 was mistaken. I am glad I did not know 
 however, for I might hâve hesitated. As it was, laborincr uni 
 der a mi^appi-ehension, I had no time to be afraid." 
 " I don't think I quite understand," said Gifford. 
 Mr. Denn^ waa silent. The room was so dark now he- 
 could scarcely see the young man's face as he stood leanin^ 
 against one of the huge bed-posts. Behind him, Mr. Denner 
 
 i^ff]vr!r^u^^^»!!!i îljf.i.^ ^^ sepretay, with its pigeon-holes 
 
 --Seawy-laDelecl, and with 'papers^ med m an orderly way. "ifxp 
 
 one had closed it since the aftemoon that he had been carried 
 m and laid on the horse-hair sofa. He had given Mary the 
 key then, and had asked her to fetch the bottle of brandy 
 
 ims:-j'-.-y 
 
 8gj^<)^ J>!ii^4i. yf"^*!" '- 
 
JO:iPvWARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 199 
 
 ds upou 
 ot quite 
 m if my 
 -ah— I 
 js — if it 
 ed that 
 ; he ap- 
 t detain 
 eVhere. 
 ml ; as 
 to em« 
 
 which 
 liart^iin; 
 
 say a 
 
 but he 
 LS of no 
 i dark- 
 andow^ 
 3ut the 
 claiin 
 as it, 
 
 lat be ? 
 haetOijci f 
 
 1 quite 
 know, 
 ng un- 
 
 iw, he- 
 3aning 
 >enner 
 -holes 
 
 arried 
 y the^ 
 randy- 
 
 from one of the long divisions where it stood beside abig 
 ledger. The little gentleman had hesitated to give trouble in 
 askmg to hâve it locked ^gain, though that it should be open 
 ottended his ideas of privacy. Now he iooked at it, and then 
 Jet his eyes rest upon the nephew of the Misses .Woodhouse. \ 
 
 " Gifford," he said, " would you be so obliging as to take 
 the sniall brass key from my ring,"— hère he thrust his lean 
 hand under his pillow, and produced his bunch of keys, which 
 Jingled as he held theni unsteadily out,— " atftl unlock the 
 litUe lower drawer in the left-hand side of my writing-desk ?" 
 
 Giftbrd took the ring over to the candie, which made the 
 shadow of hiâ head looni up on the opposite wall, as he bent 
 to find the little brass key among a dozen others of ail shapes 
 and sizes. *~ 
 
 ''1 hâve unlocked it, sir," he said, a moment later. 
 
 "lake the candie, if you please," responded Mr. Denner, 
 and you will see, I think, in the right-hand corner, back un- 
 der a small roll, a flat, square parcel." 
 
 " Yes, sir," Giflbrd auswered, holding the candie in his left 
 hand, and carefully lifting the parcel. 
 
 ";Under that," proceeded Mr. Denner, "is an oval package, 
 it you wiU be good enough to hand me that. Gifford. Stay. 
 — will you lock the drawer tirst, if you please, and the desk V* 
 
 Gifford did so, and then put the package into Mr. Denner's 
 hands. He held it a moment before he gently removed the 
 soit, worn tissûe paper in. which it was wrapped ; his verv 
 touch was a caress. 
 
 " I was desirouà," he said, " of having this by me. It is a 
 miniature of.my little sister. sir. She— perhaps you scarcely 
 remember her? She died when I was twenty. That is forty- 
 one years âge. A long time, Gifford, a long time to hâve 
 missed her. She is the only thing of— of that nature that I 
 nave loved— since I was twenty." 
 
 He stopped, and held the miniature up to look at it ; but 
 the hght had faded, and the ivory only gleamed faintly. ' 
 _.^J! ypok alihig eyerj d a y wheo I^a^ in h ea ltb, and I li k»^ 
 it by me now. No, not the candie, I thank you, Giflfbrd. I 
 called for it now (how tarnished thèse pearls are in the frame î 
 It— if I should not recover, it muet be reset. Perhaps you 
 will see to that for me, Gifioi-d ?),— I caUed for it now, be- 
 
 ië 
 
 
 f-' 
 
 •"'*. 
 
 '. t 
 
 i -■ ^ ' 
 
 1^- 
 
 
 #■■ 
 
 -.-^. 
 
* p'^vjl'Jlf^ 'i 
 
 I 
 
 [il 
 
 "s 
 
 200 
 
 JOHN WÀRD, PREACHER 
 
 cause I Nvished to say, in the event of my— démise, I cshould 
 wish this giveq to one o^ your aunts, sir." 
 
 Gifford came out from the shadow at tlie fpot of the bed 
 and took Mr. Denner's hand. He did not speak ; he had 
 ??^ n^co T"'^ ,T^^ ^^ showing sympathy, and one weaker 
 tùan Orifford could not hâve resisted the piteous longing for 
 Iite in Mr. Denner's tone, and would hâve hastened to reas- 
 sure him.^ But Gifford only held his hand in a firm, gentle 
 grasp, and was silent. 
 
 "I should wish one of them to hâve it," he continued " I 
 hâve not provided for its welfare in my wiU; I had thou^ht 
 there was no one for whom I had enough— enougli regard^to 
 ^ mtrust them with it. I even thought to destroy it when I 
 became old. Some people might wish to carry it with tliem 
 to the grave, but I could not— oh, no, not my little sister! 
 bee Orifford—take it to theJight— not that little merry face. 
 1 Should like to thmk it was with your aunts. And— and 
 n^^' T ^^ ^^^^' ^ ^®^^*^n propriety in sending itto— her." 
 Oriflord took the minature from the lawyer's hand and 
 kneelmg by the candie, looked at it The faded velvet case 
 held only the rosy, happy face of a little chUd ; not very 
 pretty, perhaps, but with eyes which had smiled into Mr 
 iJenners' for forty years, and Gifford held it in révèrent 
 hatids. 
 
 ," Yes," said the old man. " 1 would like one of them to hâve 
 it. 
 
 " I shall remember it, sir," Gifford answered, puttinc» the 
 case down on the lawyer's pillow. ° 
 
 The room was quite still for a few moments, aild then Mr 
 Denner said, " Gifford, it was quite accidentai, quite by mis- 
 take, as it were, that I stopped the horse for Mrs. Forsythe 
 wid little Lois. I— I thought, sir, it was onte of your aunts 
 Une of your aunts, do you understand, Gifford ? You know 
 what I said to you, at the stone bench, that afternoon ? I— I 
 alluded to myself, sir." 
 
 Gifford was silent, almost breathless; it ail came back to 
 biffir-tlitt warnr. still aftëmôôïi; thô sunshme; the fainflv — 
 rustlmg leaves of the big silver |)oplar, and Mr. Denner's 
 fnend s love story. But only the pathos and the tendemess 
 of it showed themselves to him jiaw. He put his handup to 
 
 iîajl«."ji-J'i"««' 
 
 tJf,^- 
 
 iJ^K'-%. t. 
 
 /i 
 
 ''k* 
 
 ^'•4 
 
 •J^r^-'^ 
 
îî, i 
 
 JOHN WARD, PKEACHEK. 
 
 201 
 
 %. 
 
 lus eyes a momenti^^omehow, hé felt as though this was some- 
 thmg toa saLcrfTîov him to see. 
 
 '' I know, sfr," he said ; « I— l'see." * 
 
 ^ "I trust," ^r. Denner continued, iii a relieved voice. 
 
 there is no impropnety in mentioning this to you, though 
 you are still a youth. You hâve seemed older thèse last few 
 clays more-ah— sedate, if I may so express it. They— 
 they frequently speak as tliough you wer^ quite a youth. 
 whereas it appears to me you should"be c.onsidered the head 
 pf the family,-yes the head of the famlly! And therefore 
 t seemed to me fittmg that I should mention this to you 
 TmÀ'^''^u^'^ ^"^ '■^^'^^^ y°^ to dispose of the minature: 
 honorabl sir." ''""''^^ ^''P'' *^' ^"^ otherwise, scarcely 
 ^^ "I am grateful to you for doing so," Gifford replied gently. 
 
 I beg you wiU beheve how entirely I appreciate the honor 
 ot your confidence, ' ^^ 
 
 ',' Oh, not at ail," said Mr. Denner, waving his"«d>« not 
 
 nf flr^f^ L'S^ °'^''>^^" '^- ^^-^ y'^^ ^iU give it to one 
 ^Vn -f .^-f !^' ^5T°^ ^^'°"Sli the dusk at the young 
 man, it— il it should be necessary ?" 
 
 whlcIXk^I Wr"'' " ' "'' ' '''' ^^" '^' "^^ -^^^-- 
 .j Mr. Denner was silent ; he turaed bis head wearily toward 
 the famt glimmer which showed where the window was, and 
 Oifford heard him sigh. " I did not mention which,-io. I 
 had not quite decided. Perhaps you can tell me which you 
 think would hke it best ?" V"" 
 
 them^"*°* ^^^^ ^°^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^"^ seem of most valuje to 
 
 wL?^?^'"'^'^ T^ speak ;he was thinking how he W • 
 ùoped that leap at the runaway horse would hdve decideS it 
 
 ht ffil ^T î;'l.°'\"^ *?^^^^^ ^"^^ <^« the atone bench, and 
 his alkwith Gifford, and the proverb. "Gifford," he said 
 nrmjy, give it, if you please. to Miss Deborah." 
 
 !Kir "^^ ^'""^f. ^°'* ^*^"g le' his patient talk too much. 
 and Mr Denner, his mind at last at rest, was ready to fall 
 -asJeep, the miniature clasped ia his feverish hand. 
 
 Ihe next day. Gifford hadnogood news to cany to the 
 
 ^i 
 
 ^X 
 
 'j:| 
 
 
 -A*,^'* 
 
 
 i^ 
 
 i^^^S'^. 
 
202 
 
 ^ 'K, f* r -"î 
 
 ■<;'r'*' 
 
 . / I 
 
 JOHN WAHJ), PREACHER. 
 
 spoke Gifford shrank ■ frora telling Lois this and vet he- 
 longed to see her. but she did not appear. ^ 
 
 in<. '^,; 1 ' *l"' ;noraing.and she said. ' Still bresth- 
 îimkp h. ir ^^"^^"^^^ 'S Pretty sick, though she's one to 
 
 ri^r Smi Ti^'i" P^^^f"^ ^^^^^h ^^ she%cratch,s her 
 M ^ 1 -^ ^^'"'^ ^'"^^'- I ca" ï^er a sick woinan." 
 
 ' which\ffpnl'?ï ''''^ ^'fy '"'^«" ^^^ «^»«« «f importance 
 iSlla Fnlv.h'' '^'' "^-^r^ '^^^ persoQ, even though 
 Arabdla Forsythes appetite h^d unquestionably improved. 
 
 muK K I" V^"^ '^' ^''^ "^^ «^^"^ ^° take his absence 
 Tacf o Lr hp ; ^^7 '^' '^^' '''' "^ P^^PÏ^' I ^hink. that love 
 Td hp . f l^,^ *^^ ^'''^"^^- ^^^' 'f I we'-e in her place, 
 
 that h!^ ^ ^^'^^ ^* ^^' ^^^<^ ^^^^ti"g to her. It appears 
 
 ten a W " ^ P^f'"'" P^'t>^ «^««™^ 1^^°^' and he's not writ- 
 
 ' whereheisA' «^arted; so of course she does not knovv 
 
 int!^i,fl^'' ^'''- ^«^«^'the's iUness was something beside- 
 wl'er^r^P'-^'^^"- ;V^^ ^.«^«^ «^ her possibfe death 
 and "v, ï? ^^/"- ^'^'^ ^"^ «««"^^'i- to sap her youth 
 
 and vigor. Her face was drawn and haggard, and her 
 pleasant gray eyes had lost their smile. Somthow Mr Den- 
 
 S?retX!?ft'P^''P%^,^P^^^^^^^ ^a«'i« amanner. 
 
 mdtrklwi ''''^\'^\"'^"^ P^^h^P^' too,because no onè 
 
 2ear dtXhe'^a? '''' '''"' ^'"''^"^" ^"^"^^ ^"^ ^«^^^ 
 
 room''and*^h?'''^^^^lTf ' ^°^"' «« «h« ^«°t into the sick. 
 room, and^his words of blâme rung again in her ears. They 
 
 ShfsS« t.1^-- ^""'TK' l^P^-^bout her son's futSrI 
 Ipj^Wthough she knew there was no possible 
 
 Tou see my dear," he said, in her soft, complaining voice, 
 iincles to look after him when I am gone ; no one to be 
 
 M. 
 
 i-.-r. 
 
 
JOHX AVARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 ' /': 
 
 203* 
 
 footr lîiïï 1?V ^'^P ^"" '" ^^ »^^^'- ^^«t ^J»^^t he is wild or 
 
 he iieeds a good home. Oh, what will he do without me 
 
 He has no one to take care of him ",' • ■ ■ ^^^^nout me. 
 
 Lois vvas too criished by miser/' to" feel éventa aWm nf 
 
 Sïo express if '^''' ^''^^ ^"' ^'^^ ^'"^^ «««".^h. 
 
 '' Oh," Mrs. Forsythe continued, " if ï,e wèe onlv manied 
 
 o sonie sweet g,rl that I kiiew and loved ho v h^Dov T 
 
 shoiild be, how content !" PP^ ^ 
 
 «xr"^^^^^*^ ^^ ^^^'^" ^'^'s said. 
 
 he p knowmg his sorrow. and it makes me so wretcïîS^^ ' 
 
 11 1 cnougftt oh, if I could only just think yhu carëd for Lim r 
 
 me nappy. i niight hâve liad a 1 ttle more of life a fpw 
 luonths, perhaps. if it had not been fot the acciden Therr 
 
 a;:^rhimT'^f^""^l' ^"^ ^^ ^ S" î^nol^Tû 
 carea tor him it woiild be worth dying for, Lois " 
 
 ^I do care for him !" Lois sobbed. ^^'W^alldo!» 
 
 Mrs. ï orsythe shool. her head. " You are theonlv oAp T 
 
 S^H-t:. f M "^ ?* everything,_such a good boy lie is 
 
 ITér 
 
 shivered and wrj,„g her handa sharply to^ther " ®'"' 
 
 world for you 
 
 ï 
 
 Hi 
 
 'M 
 
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204 
 
 ■■■*»' -^^''^^Si-'i^yf^t' '■'''*' 
 
 n 
 
 JOHN WARD, PBÉACHER. 
 
 "PromL^i }V ^^"<^' interrupted the other eagerly* 
 Prooiise this. and I am content to die. When he askfvou 
 -oh, my dear, my deai-, promise me, to say yes î" ' ^ 
 
 I ^n maLr ^'"" '"'"^^ ' " ^^ ^' ^^" ^"^^ atonement 
 "I Win do anything you want me to," she said at la^t 
 
 ?;. 1^'"7^" Pï-oniïse to say yes, Lois ?" ' ^ 
 
 Torsyth^'^^^^^^^^^ '^^'' '"^ ^^^ --W not look into Mrs. 
 
 ^ethX^"'"" ?^ ^nswered twisting her fîngers nervously to- 
 ^ « ?fu Pi-omise if— if he wants me." ^ 
 
 to Tn^.' T ^^^\'^l d^ar!" Mrs. Forsythe said. and then 
 Iv and j7""' «Kburat^into tears. She tried tci say it wa 
 inr M îf f °'''Ï "^^ be^frightened, but the youn- girl fled 
 foj- Mrs. Dale. and then ran up to the garret, a^nd iSS the 
 
 iipon^hTLrr/r^l-';?^^^^^^ th^^^ herself 
 
 ■upon the tioor, her face hidden in her arW; 
 
 it wS^nv fLTtf W i"i "^^"^^^^-^^^obs; «he«aid 
 Inel "î hltiro^sy^:^ "^^'^^ "^ '^' '' -- ^ ^- 
 
 belontsTo vontf T^k' '^- ^ '^ '"^" '^' satisfaction which 
 aoS «n^ J^^ ' of observing its own wretchedness. She 
 sobbed and cned without consciousness of tears At l«Qf fnr 
 wy weariness and exhaustion, she fell asleep, Ld wa t^^^^^ 
 
 " by hearing Mrs. Uale rap sharply at the^door 
 Bick ^Lîî?'"' ^Z»"^^- «be cried. "What's the matter ? 
 
 bS^f ;>,A V ?"T ^"* that his mother is a shade 
 &e'nlitgteJ?;^ ^-^' ^^^ ^-« 
 
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 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 \ 
 
 205. 
 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 <\I^^- "uTu ^K^^^ '^"''^^*>' ^" Ashurst hurried Helen's vi.it 
 
 fo.^ed''a?'w,!îi' 'he necessity o{ calm. She had beeà 
 fSri fLt tï, ^ff •""* '''''"' ^«'' a moment when Helen 
 
 had^but one r:;i;-;"The l^ ^ ^t r^^wid ota^^^ 
 
 In^m^^au., and mnst beg him „ot to corne to7hrpS:gTto . 
 
 oflender assurina her that it was for her soiifs sakp fW il 
 
 nn^fn i, T iT ^^^ ^^°°"' ^i^h a certain steady look from 
 rin.^ J-^"^"^ b^^« a nd a comp ression nf the Hp^thich 
 
 When the last evening came before she wfts to leave home 
 
 
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 •206 
 
 JOHN WARD,.PREACHEiî. 
 
 Helen knew, w.th a dull pain of helplêss vemôvse, that it was 
 a rel ef to go ; she was glad that she could no hear Eld^ 
 
 pathetic h tle laugh to her husband, that she was destmyh,; 
 anybody's hope of hell, in the parish." aescroyn.g 
 
 " Yes." John answered, " it^will be'-ood for you to ho 
 awjy from it ail for a time.' Tt is hard to think clSy hur- 
 
 ■ tdZesV' " "^f ' ^'^' ^ ^"'^^ >'^" ^'11 ^ry to reach 
 
 p.^ârttT'' y' ^"^r^^^y- "^o, I ani afraid Icannot 
 
 bèh^vP ,-. .f • V' "'"'^ "^^ 'A°P" ^^'^^ I «h^" «^er corne to- 
 bdieve lu eternal damnation. Of course I believe that the 
 
 ctAsequeDces ot sni are eternal; the effecf npon charactèr 
 
 must be eternal. and' I should think that would be helî 
 
 enough, sometimes. But^I shall never, iiever believe in it as 
 
 whii?H' ?''^^"'" ^'^' ^"'''^"'^ ^''''^' " I c^»"ot cease to hope 
 while 1 hâve power to pray " ^ 
 
 it,?1?''f'*S "l'T^y«^«ouldundeçstandhow useless 
 it is, dearest, or how it hurts me. this talk of hell. For people 
 
 polt^'- It T 'r V'''' '''^^^^ * Honesty is S t 
 w ^. ' .u , ' ^^^-^'^di^S' ^'^ntl ît seeins selfish to me some- 
 Tn^; TK " f "'^'"'^ ^^''''^ °"^'^ ow» salvation,-it is small 
 Sont r.^lf ''^^'T '^^ «^l?/i.«" tl^at the elders lalk so much 
 £vl an^for'rh'^- -^'''i^ iirtoafearof hell and hope of 
 ^aven ail for the uidividual soûl, and is n't that seltish ? 
 But after ail, this question of eternal punislHnent is such a 
 ittle thnig. so on the outside of the great puzzle. One '^oes 
 
 ^'oM^tixu'Vl f ^' "'^-'^^ jf ''' «^^^ Punishment. înle 
 world at Ml ? |\rhat does it ail mean, anyhow ? Where is 
 God. and why does He let us suffer hère, Vith no certaTntv 
 of a hfe hereafter ? Why does Ée make love and death fi 
 
 'etyrrrîî^' -, ?,^/ ^t* ^« «^ erueI,-love and deatfi t^!^ 
 gethei ! Is He at ail ? Those are the things. it seems to me 
 one has to think about. But why do I go "ali over Tt ? We 
 can t get away from it.'can we ? " " • vv e 
 
 -^ '^Those questions^ffl-^th^ë ôtiipôwm^ï)rïïilBerîëflii ius^^ 
 
 *.,i»'î:l:.ii£ji 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 ':.^"*'* 
 
 ,-1 .<« 
 
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 JOHN WARD, I'KEAt?iiEK. 
 
 It was true fl.Tlî'. ■ , '«'"'« yu" to-morrow »" ' 
 «ft* hour tteyta a ^tSwLT' *»P $''^ abject. .Hour 
 
 had ahowed ],er that âmf ^ '■ ""•«tandiTopelesa. He 
 
 that herL^:'f„SrXd^t''^- «'>« -"« »ot £„-.e 
 
 . séries importance to her hùsS hl l!|- * """'^•' "' 
 treathis arguAient with respect -''w! T/^'*''" "*"' <■» 
 she kept saying, ■• We lo^! „1( ,i "" '^'^ " ■"«"« ? " 
 we believe Believe a„v,I °"""> '*" "''™- """d what 
 
 the importance!of it r '^ ^^eev^N^^ h'er own soul. And 
 
 cause 1 hâve tiled : i^^fer î' 1""^' A^^^ b- 
 by saying, We love one ^other ? B^au ^f lo^f''^ T''^' 
 nofc besileut. Oh I havp wvnLL ^ ^^"f , ^ ^«ve you, I caii- 
 enough 1 I hav^ hppn I ^^^^"«^^/ou, I hâve not loved yoù 
 
 itat^Jt&arandThVTarn^^ 
 
 with long stretches of si]eœ"th^t„Mf ^^ '"''^' ' 
 
 és0A^''^l.S'ifi»V.K l-'^.' i 
 
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 JCmn WABD, PREACHÏR. 
 
 Alfaretta brought in: the lampe. In view of Mrs. Ward's 
 departure ior a fortnight her father, atill with an eye to^égn^ 
 deferred giving notice. " Besides," he thougbt,/* Mrs. Ward 
 mav be convicted ai>d comverted after she's bôen ëealt 
 
 Hei*in had risen, (and waa writing sorae instructions for 
 her maid : just what was to be cooked for the preacher, and 
 what précautions tàken for his comfort. As she put her pen 
 down, she turned to look at her husband. He was sitting, 
 leaniDg forward, with his head bpwed upon his hand, and his 
 eyes covered. » è 
 
 " Helen," he said, in a low, repre&sed voice, " once moi:è, 
 just once more, let me entreat you ; and then we will ribt 
 ^ speak of this before you go." 
 " She sighed. " Yes, dearest, say anything you want." - 
 
 There wâs a moment's" silence, and ^J^. John rose, and 
 .stoO(J looking doyvn at her. " I hâve suchîa horror of your 
 going away. I do not understand it ; ît is m(^e than the grief 
 and looeliness ôf- being without you for a few days. It is 
 vague and indefinable, but it i§ terribly real. Perhaps it is 
 the feèling that atonement i^^say sin towards you is being 
 placed ont of my reach. Yott'^ill be where I cannot helpyou 
 or show you the truth. Yet you will try to find it ! I know 
 you will. But now, just this last night, I muât once' more 
 implore you to open your heart to God's Spirit. Ah; my 
 Helen, I hâve sinned against Heayen and before you, but 
 my punishment will be greater than I can bear if I enter 
 heaven without you! Heaven ? My God, it would;l)e hell! 
 •^he knowledgie that mV sin had kept yôu oiït — yet èven as I 
 l)fiakl âin." ^ . ■" . ■ \ ' 
 
 - He was walking up and down the room, hisJUlMJiilcQptted 
 in front of him, and bis face^d with hopele 
 
 " Yes, I sin even in this, for my grief is ^WilP^^V^^^^ 
 siijned against God in my duty to his peopleandîn forget- 
 ting Him^ but that I may lose you heaven, I make you 
 si^fçicj" , 
 
 <pame to him. and tried to put her arms nbout hini^ 
 
 " " ^^Ke sala, "don't you uriderstaud ? 1 hâve 
 
 our IcJve. And for the rest,— oh, John, be 
 
 it inJi&nds not limited by our poor ideas of 
 
 -«i^i^r. . 
 
; - JOHN WAHD^ PKEACttEB on.. 
 
 justice. Il thére is a («hI. niul He i, on^» ïi., -h 
 ■thi»,tlmolo..y mnk" "ffim v?^À ' »''<='«J'a/i'l cmel. as 
 
 : fatho«i it He en co 1,W. ; . "^ '^"/"^" te^ulernets can - 
 ^hole'motive ottZaZÙu.Tr ^^ ^'"''^ repent, âud the 
 
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 210: 
 
 JOHÎÇ WARD, PREA.CHER 
 
 punishment, ^hd the beauty and order of the moral universe 
 burst upon us : man is a sinner, and deserves death, arid 
 justice h satisfied ; for, though niercy is offered, it is because 
 Christ bas died. And bis atonement is not cheapened by be- 
 ing forced upon men who do not want it. They piust âecept 
 it, or be punished." ^ f 
 
 Helen looked up iuto bis face with a sad wonder. " Don't 
 you see, dear," sbe «aid, " we cannot reason about it? YoU 
 take ail this from the Bible, because you believe it is inspired. 
 I do not believe it is. So how can we argue ? If I granted 
 your premises, ail that you say would be perfectlj^. logical. 
 But I do liot, John, I cannot. I am so grieved for you, dear- 
 est, because I knovv how this distresses you ; but I niust say 
 it. Silence can never take the place of truth, between us." 
 
 '" Oh, it did,.too long, too long!" John groaned. '[ Is thei-e 
 .no hope?' and then he began bis restless walk again, Helen 
 watcbing him with yearning eyes. / 
 
 " I cannot give.ït up," he said at last. " There must be 
 some way by which; the truth can be made clear to you. 
 Perhaps the Lord will show it to me. There is no pain too 
 great for me to bear, to find it out ; no, even the anguish of 
 remorse, if it brings you to God ! Oh, you shall be saved ! Do 
 the promises of the Eternal fail ?" 
 
 He^eame over to lier, and touk her hands in lus. Their 
 éyes met. This sacrament of suuls was too solenin for words 
 or kisses. When they spoke agaiu it was of conimonplace 
 
 things. 
 
 It was hard for her to leave tlic Ijttle low-browed house the 
 next morning. John stopped lo gather a hunch of prairie 
 roses from the busli which tliey had tridnetl beneâth the study 
 window, and Helen fastened tlieni in lier dress ; then, just as 
 they were ready to start, the preacher's wile raii back to the 
 study, and hurriedly put oiie of the roses from her bosom into 
 a vase on the writing-table. aud stooped and gave aquiok, fur- 
 tive kiss to the chair iu which John alwa>s sat when at work 
 on a sermon. / 
 
 — They neit he i' of them spoke a^ they wt^kcd ta the s tation^ 
 and no one spoke to them. Helen knew there were shy looks 
 from curtained Windows and peemng from behind doors, for 
 she was a moral •curiosity in Lockhaven ; but no one inter- 
 
 
JOHN WAItD, PREACHER. gll 
 
 •other, and his ruddy face beamfnawthli S'"*""" '" ">e 
 saw her he opened his amis am h^„I 5 Ç.'?"'""- '«^hen he 
 seemed to Dr*. Howe that™ e was S^ ''^'■' '' *»»" hâve 
 reserved his démonstrations unHI Th? "^ '° f '^'"i"" had he 
 " Blesa my soûl •' he criS «S- ""'>^7«'-« «lone. 
 
 <lo us good. Your husband IZw T^^^ '" Ashnrst, you'U 
 for that ; wè wa„t to seX ote„« T """ ^? ' ^oii^ 
 bnsy with parish work fZt fl t f ™ppose he was too 
 What ? There is tbeZ^ZT p ^u' ''«P' ^is hands fuî| 
 
 "racle a kiss, and then we^St ' ' ^"^ g»™ 7"" old 
 
 Helen kissed him wilh S h.r h .""'' "^ "' "«»'•" 
 fappiness stole over the baokornL^'"? J * '"^■""loM sort of 
 ^ a gleam of light from a sr„?^ °' ^^^ "^"'^''«d thoughts 
 darkness of the cloads ™^ '"•""' ""'>' A-'^ npoSïhe 
 
 Pej:""ê::-Xllr?°'''' ^'^^ Howa^thesick 
 
 ward\"pZVhTL^r»rhlttd1e'Î^S^'^^^^^ -" '- ' 
 whiçh was planted litweén his knees 3°H T 'î'^ ""S «««t. 
 
 =tcf 
 
 TBntTirougX thou»h W tbo fiVT ' ^ra^rfamTv going 
 
 was that shewis'sX^athfnf'rfn*^ """ "«^eard 
 way ; Denner ia a »ry ST!' o Ï ^?"« '« i" a bad 
 ^.n>.»taUthe tin.e. Vtnrknow^t^,'':^^''--;^'"^™ 
 
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 212 
 
 JOHN WARD, PEEACHER. 
 
 done without the boy. ,Lois is ail right,— dreadfully dis- 
 tressed, of course, about the accident ; saying it is lier fault, 
 and ail that sort of thing. -But she wasn't to blâme ; some 
 fool left a newspaper to blow aloug the road and frighten the 
 horse. She needs you to cheer her up." 
 
 "PoorlittleMr. Dennei^" Helen exclaimed. " l'm glad 
 Giff is with him. Has Mr. Forsythe corne ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the rector ; *' but they ar^ queer people, those 
 Forsythes. The young nian seems quite aunoyed at having 
 been summoned : he remarked to your aunt that tliere was 
 nothing the matter with his mother, and she must be moved 
 to her own house ; there was nothing so bad for her as to 
 hâve a lot of old women fussing over her. 1 wish you could 
 hâve seen Adele's face ! I don't think she admires him as 
 much as she did. But his mother was moved day before yes- 
 terday, and he has a trained nurse for her. Your aunt Adèle 
 feels her occupation ^one, and thinks Mrs. Forsythe wiU die 
 without her," the rector chuckled. But she won't,— she'll 
 get well." Hère he gave a heavy sigh, and saicl " Poor 
 
 Denner !" o-. tt i i 
 
 "You don't niean Mr. Denner won't get well ? Melen aslc- 
 
 ed anxiously. 
 
 ♦' l'm afraid not," Dr. Howe answered sadly. ^ 
 
 They were silcnt for a little while, and then Helen said m 
 a hushed voice, " Does he know it, uncle Archie ? " 
 " No," said the rector explosively, " he— he doesn't.'' 
 Dr. Howe was evidently disturbed ; he pulled up one of 
 the carriage Windows with some violence, and a few minutes 
 afterwardâ lowered it with equal force. " No, lie doesn't," he 
 repeated. " The doctor only told me this morning that there 
 was no liope. Says it is a question of days. He's very quiet ; 
 does not seem to suffer ; just lies there, and is polite to peo- 
 ple. He was dreadfully troubled at breaking up the whist 
 party last Saturday ; sent apologies to the other three l;)y 
 Gifford." Dr. HoWe tugged at his giay mustache, and looked 
 a bsently ont of the wi ndow. " No. I don't belle ve he has an 
 
 strangè 
 
 idea that he—he won't get well.'' Tlie rector had à 
 shrinking from the Word " death." , . „ 
 
 « I suppose he ought to know," Helen said thoughttully. 
 
 " ThaJ: is what the doctor said," answered the rector ; 'Wtold 
 
 
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 sj;-^-"-**»; V 
 
 :fj 
 
 r^^j, 
 
 JOHN WARP, PREACHER. 213 
 
 . o. " ^'î- "°*^^^'" ^^^^«^ ^'''^'^' " mightn't he hâve some friend^ 
 or relatives to whom he vvould want to send a message or 
 perhaps see ? People you never heard of ? " "^^^^^S^'-^r 
 Oh, no, no," re^nded Dr. Howe. " IVe knowu Wininm 
 Denner, man and boy, thèse sixtv vpam wil V,^^ 
 Menas I don't know a'bout; he T^/Z\on:eJ'ZytCl 
 
 Wmie^D^nne: ll'h ""^.'^ '''' straightforward ^st h^'i 
 ir and Z ' 1 ^^''' •*"'' "^«»^y.-there's not too much of 
 it,— and that ail there is to consider" «. 
 
 Pvi!w^''^\-'''"~P.^f^''^' '*''" ^^^ Hector admitted, liidina his 
 ch ef .'C^ TV^ '-^ ^«"^'i^h of his bi. white siik handke^ 
 chiet. You see," he continued, steadyino his cane hpfwpl 
 
 t^"''''ti:6oV'' '^^' ^^ ^"^ glasses^n'dtg'rto'S 
 inem, tlie doctor wants me to tell him, Helen " 
 
 1 suppose so," she said sympathetically. 
 f !.. t , ^"P?""^^ ^ '""•'^'" the rector went on " but it i^ 
 •ap^rSt'^^' '^ ""*' ^^^ "^^- ^-^ ^^-'^^ ^->^ how to 
 " It must be very hard." 
 
 the ,?neTo"ten 'hir^P "'^"'"^ ^' '^' '^"''^'* ^^^^ ^ «hould be 
 church s/« V?- ^ ^.^'t^P^Ï^"' ^"^ '^^'^ « n^ember of my 
 cnurch— Stay ! is he?" Dr. Howe thrust out his lower Z 
 and wrinkled his forehead, as he thought. " Yes oh veV T 
 
 Why do you thinkthat is, uircle Archie ?" Helen asked 
 Why, my dear child, how do I know." oried the r^.' 
 
 tnv «TT^i u- -""", ""w uu 1 Know, cncd the 
 
 ■tH. ca^e with friend, in ou\ position' WeMve g„ra,tii^ 
 
 
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 » 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Si 
 

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 214 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 together since we were aut of pinafores, and we hâve played 
 whist —at least l've watched him,— and talked pôlitics or 
 church business over our pipes ; but néVer anythiiig like this. 
 We were simply the best of friends. Ah, , well, Deiiner will 
 leave a great Aacancy in my life." • "' 
 
 They rode in silence for some time, and then Heleii said 
 gently, " Yes, but uncle, dear, that is the only way you are 
 gomg to help him now,— with the old Mendship. h is too 
 late for aiiything else,— any religions aid, I mean,— when a 
 man cornes to look death in the face. The getting ready for 
 death bas gone, and it is death itself, then. Ami I should 
 think it would be ohly the fi-iend's hand and the friend's eyes, 
 just the human sympathy, which would make it easier. î 
 suppose ail one can do is to say, ' Let my friendship "o with 
 you throvigh it ail,— ail this unknown to us both.' " "^ 
 
 Dr. Howe turned and looked at her sharply ; the twilig^J 
 had fallen, and the ce^rriage was very dark. " That's a heatli* 
 enish thing to say, Helen, and it is not so. The consolations 
 of religion belong to a man in death as much as in' life; they 
 ought notto belong more to death than to life, but they do^ 
 sometimes. It is n't that there is not much to say to Denner!^ 
 It is the — the unusualness of it, if I can so express it. We 
 hâve liever touched on such things, I tell you, old friends as 
 we are ; and it is awkward, you understand." 
 
 They were very quiet for the rest of the long drive. They 
 
 stopped a moment at Mr. T)enn4r's gâte ; the house was dark, 
 
 » except fro a dim light in the library and another in the kit^ 
 
 chen, where Mary sat poring over her usual volume. Giftbrd 
 
 càmeout to say there was no change, and opened the carriat^e 
 
 door to shake hands with Helen. ", 
 
 *'He would hâve prayers to-night," he said to the rector, 
 
 still talking in a hushed voice, as though the spell of the sick- 
 
 room were on him ont under the stars, in the shadows of the 
 
 ^.« poplar-trees " He niade Willie read them aloud to Mary, he 
 
 toid-me ; he said it was proper to observe such lorms in a 
 
 ^ Ja^^fe no i n att e r w ha t t h e cond itiQns^^mght ^ ^mâgia^- 
 
 WilliH stuinbhng through Chronicles, and Mary fast asleep at 
 hèr end of .thàt big dark dining-roora I" 
 
 GiÔbrd smiled, but the rector was £00 much distressed ta 
 be amused ; he- sliivered as they drove away. 
 
JOHN WARD, PREACHER. ' 2X5 
 
 him to-morrow. I must tell him ?o.mo,^„ .^'"' ^ """ ^^ 
 
 -llie rector settled back in his corner hù f-r.» '.la.i.. • 
 with a grieved and trottbled frown Tnd th^v dM n^» ? 
 
 until they rea^hed the rectorf S« A, ,V^ «ot speak 
 back ag/„,t the group o?S ,Cs beWnd' nhfki'H^ 
 their soit, penetrating. fragrance into the night airlome on. 
 
 ItwasW ShehadthrownammywhitescarfabonthAr 
 head and had corne ont to walk up and^ down !he drivëltt 
 and listen for the Sound of wheels Shp hoH .,„, ""™™J> 
 
 ''lïïh'"^ '""•?^'-t Mr. For^ytL ^ght^^pp^. "■"'" *" 
 Lois had searcely seen him since he arrived thou.* thi, 
 ^as not becauée of his dévotion to his mother He sS 'o^t 
 of his time louBging about the post-office, and sweS.. X. 
 Ashurst wa^ the dullest, deadest place on the face of the 
 
 • .'^- .?^ ^ •"" "''«"«"J t» I-ois's sèlf-reproMhes and ^'n 
 sisted that blâme n,ust not even be mentioned He Wi auïïe' 
 
 n eames , but strangely awkward. Lois, wei<.hed d^^hv 
 the «>usciousness of her promise, felt it was her faur v°ï 
 da,-ed not try to put him at his ease, and fl"d at thel^u^^ 
 1)18 step, to her refuge in the garret She iSd not M^fl. 
 prom.se to Mrs. FoSythe mefnt that sh^ must^ivf op^rîr 
 » l^r" f^'""^"'- B-t Dick did not force" Ws m^l 
 rhe'r:cte"y '^ "" "'"' "— 'ortable and ^^^^S: 
 
 He^trî:^th"eii£-^^^^^ "i^L^^^:^-^ 
 
 «Sgrh^irxra^^^^^ 
 
 hin'?"*Hj»t*'*^*'*Fu""^*"'« "«'«»' I*« almost for»ot 
 mm. Her arms around her cousin's neck and Mola..i r 
 
 pr^ssed against her wet cheek, there Z nothit kfltowS? 
 
 ior. except thé re«,very of the two sick^S^k. ' "'"' 
 
 Oh, Helen 1 Helen ! Helen I» she cried Vterically, while 
 
 ..^•■".«4'^./''>'ï^', . 
 
 
 - 1 %; 
 
 t i 
 
 ïî'é 
 
 diij 
 
 I 'Mî 
 
 . '% 
 
 )#'! 
 
 H f 
 
 H 
 
 
 »<l- 
 
 . 1 
 
 

 210 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 pr. Howé, flourishiug hjs silk handkerchief, patted them both 
 withoiit distriminatioii, and said, " There, my dear, tliere. 
 there." 
 
 Il 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. • 
 
 Afteu Helen liad gone, John Waid went back to'the par- 
 ^ sonpge, dazed and stupefied by the exhaustion of tHe moral 
 confîict which, for nearly a month had strained every fibre of 
 hissoul. - „ 
 
 The housé séemed dark and empty. His face brightenad a 
 moment, as lie sat wearily down at his writirig-table aod savv 
 the prairie rose in the slender vase. He leaned his head ou 
 his hand, and drew the flower towards him, twiehing it with 
 gentle fingers, as thowgh he caressed the bloom of Helen'ç 
 cheek. Then he pushed it in front of her picture which stood 
 always on the same table, and thoiighWaguely thàt he wonld 
 leave it there until she put a fresh bne in its place. 
 
 And so his thoughts came heavily back to the old grief and 
 anxiety. He went over ail the arguments he had used, and 
 saw new points and reasons which he had neglected to gîve, 
 and he even di-ew his pen and papôr towards him, and began 
 
 ^ to make some notes. He would send them'to her ; and, away 
 from him, surely what he should say would hâve an added 
 
 .force. 
 
 Yet he could not fix his mind upou his subject. He found 
 liimself heavily conscious of the silence of the house ; and 
 by and by he rose and went up-stairs to their bedroom, stand- 
 ing drearily in the centre of the floor, ajad looking about at 
 his own loneliness. He lifted a bit of lac# upon her dressihg- 
 table, and smoothed it betweçn his fingers, noting the faint 
 ^centof orris which it held. Ag ain that straoge. unreason- 
 ^ble feaTl>f her absence seîzed him, and he was iglad to go 
 out and fine ^ome pressing occupation to forget it. i- " 
 
 When he started (as he had had to do of late), alone, for 
 prayer^meetiug, his mind was' dulled by its own pain of 
 
 ►'.^'*.ji"'..rt ;. 
 
 >*^ 
 
 
^y.,"-,^-^;?. ' -"t-v-'^vi' ^w 
 
 ^4iJ».i»%l.ï^' •■ "'•'j'H 
 
 "^■.. n-. 
 
 ' ^, JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 217 
 
 mtl!^^^^"^ ^'' went jbsently through the services, sayin.^ 
 t a h. i Ti"f ^ ^ the meeting as soon as he could A^fter 
 
 ^ Bp'înln^"^''"^ A^ pronounced the bénédiction, ho we ver El^er 
 hanZT '^'^^l^l^^f ^ith elaborate quiet to the pu pft: 
 handedhima note, and sat down again, coverinc hirface 
 wih a b,g horny hand; and swinging ône foo \enwsTv 
 . ^ohn opened the folded paper, and h?ld it up. to one of the talï 
 . |amps beside his^ desk, for the writing was dim and crabbed 
 and he hght was poor, and then read a call hat ïhe sl^^^^^^ 
 
 •obec^or' "T^'i^'^'^ ''''' ^^^ Prayer-meetng No 
 object for considération was named, and the Daner w«^ 
 
 signed by Mr. Dean and another elder. John puïïtdown 
 ■and,Wmgthathis lour elders sat togethe^on one ofThâ 
 
 ren'r '''' '™^^^^' the usual request that the"^ luld alî 
 '■oin^n."^^ congrégation gra(]ually dispersed. Then Elder 
 
 ktck of ^h r'' ^''^ P".^ ''''^ f*^"^ «^ the I^mps in the 
 
 Ïain on h''""".'' economy's sake. After that he sat down 
 
 1^Z:^.TZJ^^^' ''' ''-'^ other elders. and the 
 
 John looked up, and waited for sonie one to sneak flian" 
 
 Selt^^î 'T"^°^ ^'' '^""'y '^ rnoderatTr/L ^atd le 
 Session_to order, and asked the reason for meeting ^' 
 
 ch m 7i^"«°!?' who was the youngest elder in thè church 
 
 ^"'af £'1'* **";• ^""'S" 'Y"™'y- wh o replied in a loud 
 T?*^; j . ^^^ P'*"®' Brother Bean:»- 
 Ihe elders face tumed a dull mottledred- he felt Tnhn'= 
 sujpnsed eyes upon him. Under cover of blowino hi™ 
 
 he^^laneed iraplonngly at his comparons. But no one 
 
 'tVt ' 
 
 
 '•«■' 
 
 M 
 
 
 M- 
 
 *4' 
 

 218 
 
 JOHN WAUD. PREACHER. 
 
 ms mouth uutil his Upper lip looked like a hooked beak 
 
 this Session has been called for the considération of-ofthV 
 spiritual condition of this church. The duties of the eldera 
 o a church are heavy, and painful-and-and-lar4 Bu? 
 n:iiis"he^a:rf '^-""^ T ^^^^^''-d Mr. Sinflat! 
 ëSsIt ind tn ""l^^"^' " discharged l The ch*ch 
 ino^st terrVv J^^^ is not disappointed. Yet-it> 
 
 Mr" Johnînn ^^^" f?^i' ^"^ "^"-^d behirid his hand. 
 
 asthouar^^lTr^ k' ^T'^^ g^^^^'^d back at the doo; 
 as though calculatincr his chances of escape The other twa 
 
 Kadttlh'l/^P;- ^H^-^-nhad no'i:asontta7t'h:: 
 in^Sm^^Lfhutî;^^ Johnwaswatch- 
 
 " Proceed," he saicï 
 
 molt^ainfid^T'^'''''^''' "^ 7^ ^^'^^^'^ P^^-^«"" «"ï' P«i»f«l> 
 Sht^Mr M / ?' ""^ ^'^ ^'^'^ ^°-"^S^t- We are hère to- 
 
 strLrLVf ^'^ï^'"" f"^""' ^^ ^^ ^" a lost condition; a 
 stranger to God, an ahen from the commonwealth of Israël 
 But that is not ail. No. It is-ah-spreading its ^n 
 lisease of sm m the vitals of the church. It is noU)uly «oi^" 
 downto hell itself. but it is dmgging others along wSh it^ 
 
 îhulT't' 't '''^^^'^ "f '^^' «A Brother Ward that 
 this session has been convened. It is not a very difficuît 
 
 mity, sir : We wiU not hâve to reproach oursel ves for nidert 
 of an inimortal soûl. We wish to summon "_ ^ 
 
 upon thrn„[n!r'"-?'v "^f " ^?i^' "«^"S' ^'' ^^"d clenched 
 Sto mfS r ' ' '^'^'^^'^--^ his teeth set,-' doyou 
 
 r-J^^ ^^""^^ ?^^^ "^^ ^^^ ^6"<^h started as though thev had 
 
 ." Answer me," said John Ward 
 
 "iffd^^^f'T''" 'i^^^i^ *h^ ^^^^^ i"^ quivering voice, 
 if I do refer to youi^wife, that is not the way it 1 to b^ 
 
 .■y:\ 
 
 .^^É^i^-4i^ .- 
 
î;-:' 
 
 ^ 
 
 JOHX WAKl), PltEACHEIî. 
 
 cousidered. I refer to a sin-sick «?niil t ..!• . 
 
 .eglected smner. who must be savedTyes tir saved^ ir^ 
 Imppens to be,your wife, l-I-am ,„„, " ' " "'"^ 
 
 b^ wC^aTed7alfa"d cftl "t"« 'ï'^P' *"-»» "- 
 
 eenue ot lif-hF 0,u of h^ 1^"°"'' P^f"^ "P™ ">« «"'»" 
 to turn it down md a de^nir T """'''^; T'' ^'- '5'^"' '■»«' 
 Mr. Johnson nêrv"!,; „;re riTy.nttV'^'' d t ^'""P" 
 mm the pages. For a moment the r"sUe rf Z „^«^" "^ 
 the only Sound that broke the quiet ^''P^'' """^ 
 
 ;^~ by thèse .^., „as 1^%^^^^^^ 
 
 an7bïe«hiu"Vard''''.'to'bS:! fh'"'' "''^ P^'"'»' «'»"-'«. 
 As preaoher of Ms churth f ''i:ff"'^"<'^''t>•e the Session! 
 
 acJrding to the wiS'ô^ ^ts ^V t n^t '"t""' 
 désire your ad vice." netther ask nor 
 
 sliZy "m" Sf ^ '"^ Çoo'panions.and raised his-harids 
 
 enou«^h seein' rh«h ,> \ ""S nutter. Your wisdom ain't 
 AU we d1 "e to ded wUh M ,"'>"^'? 'T' '^ ""^ P"'^' 
 Bmher Dean speaks of the WI ^"he ^hurS^ "'ITr'- 
 duty to check that? It aimeari ^t /^f '"T ' '' *""■ 
 ohurch or not von'v» „ii "►'Ç*'^' «^'. 'hat, preaoher of this 
 
 .mrepïo:;j,tdlhe n^Zce if it'" "' ""."^''^1'" """«^ ' 
 that-s wljat we>re resronXforVthat-sCduU '1?'"''"^'' = 
 negleoted your duty we ain't » „„f„.\ 1 '^^ ^' •>'<"' ™ 
 
 lelt admiration and niv» nf n,.: , ^''®" °'° «mcerely • 
 
 ment they te^hrcritil h?r"'''!^"*'/"^^^ ^''<^»<^ 
 
 -m 
 
 'M, 
 
 j4È£,^ïii.sï^««Qi4 
 
 In? 
 
 
I ' ■* ' ■■ ' ! , ' '- ^-^ • T^', ■ fil», 
 
 ^^^ * JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 S / ?• ^""'"^^ ^^^^^ toaether, and the veins in his fore- 
 clprSet"'' '"' '"" "''^^■^^^^' ^"'^ lipswerew":i 
 inenrin^h?l?r """' his feet agai„, with much less embamss- 
 
 ^asL^ w".^ ^' ^'^''''/; ?"^i^'' «^^>< he'sûid. " If it 
 ain t sure but what it would be our duty. But the churoh*»- 
 
 ^nd see f we can bnng her to a realizing sensé of hekW 
 dit on before proceeding to any extrême measu^e. iXl 
 mained m a hardened state, it would then be our dS'o 
 bnng charges and proof. And we should do it bein*^ln 
 
 îoof:d\'îLfntrndr "''" "^^^'^'' ^"' ""'■ '''''' 
 
 ^.^^^^^1^^::^^^^^^''^^ ^--Mown betweeu 
 
 voîde 'UhatTnî '",^"y'''^^^\Mr. Johnson,%aquick,high 
 
 _jvoice that I m not m sympathy with this meétîn-." '' 
 
 John looked at him eagerly. ° 
 
 " It is niy idea that thèse sort of things never do THp do v 
 
 lias rassed for forcing people into beliaWn^thLgs --yes s^ 
 
 --and it doesn't do any good, anyhow. Now mv advS 
 
 would be. don't disturb thin^s, don't break up the p^acerm 
 
 tet^'no?' ^"'\r^ a happylife,befo'rean?thSgeLe 
 Just lets not say anythmg about it. There's nothincr breth 
 
 Use v^ur Tr '"^°- "^"^ ^ J"'^ ^^^^«^ y^»^ to keep quiet. 
 
 Mav beTt wm ni' '""^ f r'\'^'y ^^y' ^"t nothing%lse. 
 JM^ De it will corne out ail right, after ail " . 
 
 He sat down again, and Mr. Dean and Mr. Smith beaan to 
 -whisper to him with évident indignation " 
 
 J3ut the preacher's face was f ull. of dou'bt and mef « No " 
 _ ^datlast,nK>Vmgh i 8dTy] ips w M^ 
 -^not conquer sm by hiding it or forgetting it, and IbelieTr 
 
 W tit TTno.^rr''' welfare ofUie churih since^y a 
 . Jieart , but I d5 not believe then the plan you propose will 
 
 W''^. 
 
 iS./',^. *f > . 
 
 "♦.,< 
 
 ^Hi.'^^'î'^^h''' 'vM#Âs»^'a;. 1 
 
JOHN WARD, PREAÇHER. 
 
 22î 
 
 'e sat bending 
 s, m his fore- 
 ere white aiid 
 
 ss embaîrass- 
 responsibility 
 
 said. " If it 
 die, though T 
 ihe church/^ 
 siimmcrn? her, 
 e of hett«oii- 
 î. Il î^ii^re- . 
 î oiir du|y to 
 it, bein* siip- 
 ïod." 
 l Mr. Dean 
 
 wn betweeii 
 
 .^quick, high 
 iing." 
 
 o. Theday 
 ïs,— yes, sir, 
 my advicê 
 peace. l'm 
 tything else. 
 hing, breth- 
 le. I know 
 keep quiet, 
 othing else. 
 
 th began to 
 
 ief. " No," 
 effort, "we^ 
 d I believe 
 lincerely at 
 opose will 
 
 .profit etther tbe cl.urch or the soûl ôf whom youîpeik . ifer 
 absence at présent would, at ail évents, make it necèLrfto 
 
 tnuS "''''"• , ^" '^' ^^^'^^^ ^^°^^' I believe tkat t^W 
 will teach m^isdoin,.and will grant grâce and peace^Xr 
 whose welfare is the subject of your pmyers. If Tîeach anv 
 conclusion m the matter which ypn ought to know I wm 
 n=:^i:^c^;îi^^ nthereisnolurther^otion:!;;!^ 
 
 tr^t?:nbaSS i^:''?^':^^:^.^^^ 
 
 n"ht 'a^l'T^ """ " \'^^'^' ^^"-^^^^ - though tosaygooï 
 pil'Kf ^^'7 '"'"'^ asliamed to speak to hfm, though Mr 
 Ijent said as he turned his back on the preachér, " We'I^ 
 ah — pray torjier." • ' 
 
 Mr. John_son stopped to justify his présence, and sav a-ain 
 ]3on t notice it, Mr. Ward. l'd just"^ gently like brin^her 
 roiind some tirue ; keep on prayin', and ail that, but W 
 torde i\,^ It will only make trouble for you " 
 
 John hurried away from him, stung to the quick ïhis 
 then, was his own real attitude.; thià was what ^is plea of 
 wisdom had meant thîs last year. His own deceit loomed up 
 before his souI, and the sky of faith grew blaek. Sue by 
 one, the accusations of the elders repeated themselves to hiim 
 illltelyt^Sr ""'' --^"^.conscience left hii^J 
 
 
 CHxVPTER XXIII. 
 
 TiiERE was a strange nnreality aboivt Helen's wakening the 
 hrst morning m Ashurst. ^' 
 
 The year in Lockhaven smned" to hâve made as little 
 tet,!?.-!/!l^- .Hère shevvas,^ back in h^r Vd rooîi' 
 
 TT 1- -T , . — , "^' "**^"- ^n ner oia rooift 
 
 -il4«^Uambar.everything^^ 
 
 old cherry-wood dressmg-case, with its shitiing brass rings 
 and spo less linen cover ; the morning SHnshine dandng ^^tT 
 the shadows ot the leaves, and falling in a golàen fquare 
 
 'M 
 
 , > 'V! 
 
 
 ■'A \M 
 
 >'."> 
 
 
 Vi 
 
 .tilt 
 
 'm* 
 
 '0X^Â.i^ 
 
 ',^t>,'vfc,V- 
 
.■'"!t 
 
 ■322 
 
 mifMxD, PKÉACIIER. 
 
 'W 
 
 outside in thecLrnb ni ro S'^:'"^^^^ '^>\«""er of wTngS 
 
 and yet in sonïe in eÏÏa^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 strancje land. "^^'^"nablo xvar she was a stranger in a 
 
 werealone. .^ • ^ Mis. -lorsythe) as soon as they 
 Lois feJt no diilerenrp vr^i^ ^ -j -, 
 
 eyae, but fx,is,was so S,-àve he?J l, "'T^ «ravity in her 
 
 lûs;, passionate, and intense ?L n h ^ ""= ""*> "''^«f''. 
 
 beautifnl past, no lonoerTn'ece^V "^ " "''""'■^' * '^"'"-^ 
 
 thy. her thoughts were folk vil t\* . ^"" "' 'J'""?"- 
 back from prlyer-meeLa i . " J^hn^oii, his lonely walk 
 of the empty hoMe * ^"■""''"" ''™ '» the doorway • 
 
 ttranUr:4l:%^T.rïrif . ei.'îi»-?"-. -^ the 
 
 , theere was so m,l h 0''' andTc" Httf.T ''^'^- ^""S"'- *"* 
 ;n thè niind of any one e'ise ,h» Il ?P/'*'=">*'on of change 
 herself. but only kLw that 'ail tl,„ ^""^ '^T' '° "o""» °it 
 Pathy with AshuratToya a.,d li ' ""'' ""?"'' *" her syi- 
 -was a deep,^till cuîJe„rof Z tr?"'''^ ^''™''«. -ow, 
 husband. ■ " current of thought.flowing towards he^ 
 
 inf Th^y '^hatLateVtlTedTrri^iT 'ï' '" '"« — '" 
 her decided vdlce in the^'aîrïlproJw t 1"^'" ""^^ ^"^"^ 
 less sweepiug. A little wh; „ I? ï ".§^ ^^''^ '«f some care- 
 thi8 as interflrenle but she haf ;J^" """^ ''''™ ''^^"tod 
 
 WpII' Wall "^«"""ng to nearl 
 . ^^^ Helen, mydear/'shçsaid. 
 
 l'm glad to see you. 
 
 - yLê.À*:f^ii^i^fi> . 
 
 '^i^'-ii 
 
 (T, 
 
 \ 
 

 JOHN WAIJIl^. PIlÉACHEK. ' , 
 
 home again Yon m, t?!? .1 .^^'^'^ "«^ time for you to be 
 
 " Fudàe r cSd MrT nl^l T^T^ '^^^'^ ^^^ «« change." 
 before thaC nurse cam? ^h^^^^^ ' I brouçht her round ail rfght 
 
 set well • shp likao fu« ycim roisyme rs n t m any hurry .to 
 
 y J^utaunt.Deely,". Helen said «ia„'f fi. 
 
 >, not a bit," Mrs. Dale answered Dromnflv " t 
 
 it ^o:v^'^:^.^^^2&^'^^ -pp- 1 --t, but 
 
 u't £^ Thet:"o;^.'radS a^t t""^^ " "^ '^ 
 run aloûg ; I want to talkjo Hefen '' ' ^ ■^''' ^''^ 
 
 and^He .ad tfS^p^trEet^^ "^ "- 
 Mr. Ue„„et had failed very pen=eptibly since the day 
 
 ■ i 
 
 ■ 1' 
 
 *., %,iJ,f'/SÉ;li} . «a 
 
 'tiMMitr ■ 
 
 j. 
 
 Jivfa l-^i.^Jtsfc^^A'K 1 j „ T, ' « ^ * '-«.1' I 
 
^■«6 
 
f f^^,^f •T-^n^'^^i "-'«v^îr^ïîTf^ 
 
 'K'f 
 
 224 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEB. 
 
 ^;}^ 
 
 " l'^ di JX^!^"'' ''^■- I^--r^ with labor^d breath, 
 hdiir if .rv tT "' ""';?^'^^^- " He has gone home for au 
 
 frshlv "M- ■ ?"""■ '*'''"' '"<''" '■«monstrated Mr. Dernier 
 
 and it irrri V T""""'- ^^y '^" ^er I am doirig nicely • 
 sUghter!'- ^ "" conséquence in the workl.-not the' 
 
 Uow''t"J''ev°4v"^y'^°'"l,.""'^tf''-°' Giffo'^'sHndness.and 
 
 Mag^Mo^^^-fxï^^^ ^:,^rœ 
 
 P y tha M ' fh»"!"" ,•■"' "'" «P^^k. for it would s^em to T 
 
 and LughtS Hls tentTè^^-frr iTv/r''""^'^ '"«^ 
 
 ^^ST,tin^ '^'^'^^^^ 
 
 The rector had elalped his Lands «pon ^ Mick. and waa 
 
 *i 3^^. ' 
 

 JOHN WARÛ, PREACHER. 
 
 225 
 
 monl'lf '"• '" ""'^ ^"*'""'^-- "y»'ve 3een the doctor thi, 
 
 a relief :o ^ S early.» ^''"' *"'" l"'"* '«"a ^'^ ^ « 
 
 "I have lîot seen him to-clai^ " ««iVi n». rr i , 
 
 yesterday, Ije jnade ,„e feel ve7v' a,« „,^ . T ''""'/' " """^ 
 
 "i.nvi ndTThfr..: '^sif SL""" 'rh" ^"^^f^ *' >■- 
 
 fi.„^ ! ^^"' .nesitatmiOf sIi<Thtlv " Thof „i. 
 
 Dr Ho^t'-'^JH''^'' ' ™,d-3ta„d',o,rto% ,?^'-^"- 
 tremb " ;^l„tïn rrt:":! h "f ™" »' m. «enner-s 
 
 pain of speakin. of^l ASd."''y„i://P:- SH" ?'" 
 I quite understand" -^ ^'"^' '^"t-^ 
 
 held it hard in his ow,? Vh . ' ^'"' '■^"'""' '»"'= >'• and 
 Benner was the fet tos^ak "^ '"" '"'" "'■■* ^''«"'- ^r. 
 
 fea:'LTarditl;"jed%'„r'"r:'' ''" "'=■ ^'°'''''* ^ 
 
 is of no conseqlr„<iT- i-il Lu"''^^^^ """'^'"'^'^ ' '' ' 
 
 soÔ;.» r*""^"'^'" f'' M'- Denner calmfy. "p^bably- 
 -Dr. Howe bowed irig hèaC 
 
 q.fir^wi^'^j"^* ^*'- 'Ï--I thank you, Archibald " 
 
 
 must 
 
 ■fW' 
 
 
 
 1}^^ - 
 
226 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 corne to US ail sooner or later." he said gently, "and if we 
 ot ail the men I hâve ever known " 
 
 ' whinll^^ii f^'^T T^TT^^" '^'^ ^^'' ^^"ûer, in a voice 
 tieman •' ^^^""^^^^ ^ ^'^^^^ " ^« remember that I was a gen- 
 
 Dr. Howe opened his lips and shut them again before he 
 
 S- ^-I^'î''^"' '^' '^"^^ i^ God,Villiam of a 
 Chnstian man, which is yours, luust be your certain support 
 
 ;S coutte^; ^" "^^ ^^^' ^^ '""^ ^^' ^'- -- '' ^- - 
 Dr. Howe moved his hands nervously, clagping and re- 
 clasping them upon the head of his stick. " Yes William " 
 lie said. after a moment's silence, "that.trust in God which 
 leads us safely through ail the dark places in life wiU not faH 
 usât the end. The rod and the staff stiU comfort us " 
 Ah— yes," re^pbnded Mr. Denner. 
 The rector gai^ed confidence as he spoke. "And vou must 
 hâve that blessed assurance of the love of God, William " he 
 contmued ; " your life has beeij so pure and goôd. You mi^t 
 see m this Visitation not <5liastisenient, but mercy " ' 
 
 Dr Howe's hand moved slowly back to the big pocket in 
 oïie of his black coat-tails, and brought out a snîall, shabby 
 prayer-book. ' ^ 
 
 " You will let me read the prayers for the sick," he con- 
 tinued gently, and without waiting for a reply began to sav 
 with more feeling than Dr. Howe often put into tîie readin^ 
 ot the service, — *= 
 
 T "'^^^^.^jybeloved know this, that Alniighty God is the 
 Ijrd of hfe and death, and of ail things to them pertainin^ 
 
 m«"w^.v^^^'" 'f^^'- ^'""'' ^''''''^^y' "yo" ^i" excuse 
 me, Dut tûis is not — not necessaiy, as it were " 
 
 inhi's W •°°^^^^^^'"'^^''"^^^' ^^^ Prayer.book closing 
 
 ^-^nreanZ-mr. Denner added, "if you will aUow me so Say 
 . Theœ was a wistful ^k in his eyes as he spoke. 
 
 iifst^iMi^m'.^èA^^a'-' »< »' 
 
 ifc!te î s ^* jt 1-rf^ \L ^^%^ 
 
<^'t ■• ■'^~' ^ 
 
 ^7 
 
 JOHN WAED, PREACHEK. 
 
 227 
 
 good. I hâve every resôeot fnr v„ m '"'i' ^°" '"" >« so 
 
 haWt of speakiu. on ïïl subT.! '-f "? '"'™ '*^" '" 'he 
 as it wefe î You wHl n«!^ '' ' l""?-"' °u' ordinan- way 
 
 ■was a tightenW in MsC fh T/''^.'?''^ *"■ ™d «l'ère 
 came back to the bedside hf j ^^ ^ept him silent. When he 
 
 c-anuot help yTnowî" " "^"^ "''" >'»" '«^1 that it 
 
 t6 approachihe sub^et'atmt'„îl:''vîj3d""°T'?'!^^''^^ 
 neceasary to t' "a^nyX^^'^at^ ."""^ "'"» ^ ^' '" - 
 
 me anything you wS Y.,' Jtt ""u f '""'^ '^'^den. " Ask 
 
 WUlia'm, I S^LotTLer yôu rtv^r^ "k"""'™ "^«-^ i'- 
 rnan now." ^ "^ anything but a Ohristiaa 
 
 ' Ju a t 50 ." aaid Mf. Dein 
 
 Pleasing View of the ch°^\C^„d^stnf' ""'!;"'' ?■"" 
 as we are in the habit of doiuilwhS •~'P*'''"''« J"»' 
 doyouthink-isbeyondr 'V""*!» y»" suppoae-what 
 
 ii'ïLV.Î^'»i.'iy'! 
 
 ,<.ss .s 
 
 ■77 
 
 ;-^l 
 
 
 #. 
 
 
228 
 
 "■*Hf' 
 
 Silli' 
 
 ii! 
 
 iii 
 
 i 
 
 »iS 
 
 '* -V, 
 
 JOHN WAÈD, PREACHER. 
 
 His voice had sunk to a whisper, and his ea^er eyes search. 
 ed Dr. Howe'a face. . ,^' 
 
 " How can we* tell ?" aiiswered the rector. " Tliat ît is infi- 
 nitely good we can .trust ; ' eye hath not seen, nor ear heard' " 
 — He stopped, for Mr. Denner shook his liead with a fine 
 sort of impatience. 
 
 " If you please, doctor !" 
 The rector was silent. 
 
 ^" I hâve wondefed about it often," the other continued. 
 ^I hâve exgected— this, for soine days, and I hâve wondered. 
 Thmk how strange : in a few days— almost a few hours I 
 shall know ail, or— nothing ! Yes, the mvstery of ail the-a^es- 
 will be mine !" There was a thrill of triumph in his feeble 
 > voice. " Think of that, doctor. I shall know more than the 
 wisest man th^t lives,— I ! I was never a very clever person 
 never very wise ; and yet, l^ere is a knowledge which shali 
 notbe too wonderful for me, and to which I eau attain."? 
 
 He held up his little thin hand, peering at the light between . 
 the transparent fingers. » To think," he said slowly, with a 
 puzzled smile, "to think that this is going to be still ! It has 
 never been any power in the world ; I don't know thatit has' 
 ever donc any barm,. yet it hm çertainly never done any good ; . * 
 but SQon it Will be still. How strange, how strange ! And 
 where shall I be ? Knowing— or perhaps fallen on an eternal 
 sleep. How does it seem to you, doctor ? That was what I 
 wanted to ask you; do you feel sure of anythniff— after- 
 ward8?"v j & 
 
 The rector could not escape the penetrating gaze of those 
 strangely bright brown ey^s. He lookèd into them, and then 
 wavèred and tumed away. , \ 
 
 " Do you ? " said the lawyer. 
 
 The other put his hands up to his face a moment. 
 
 " Ah ! " he ^nswered sharply, " I don't know— I can't tell 
 I — I don't know, Denner !" 
 
 "No," replied Mr. Denner, with tranquil satisfaction, *^ I 
 supposed not,— I supposed not. But when a man gets wjiere 
 
 ^. 
 
 am, it seems the one thing in the world worth 
 
 being sure 
 
 Dr. Howe sat silently holding the lawyer's hand. and Mr. 
 ' z^^^^®^ seenaed to sink into pleasant thought. Once he 
 
 t^^i.ihai^\ t à-" ,< .. 
 
I 
 
 -— ^ . JOHN WARD, PREACHER. - ' 229 
 
 <loze. SuHdenly he tucnert h.X. """'««'«d'y as tliough to 
 
 window.acrossLgaZthSerfero1d?''r °",' /' '^' 
 were bloomin» sDarsnlv winT!. i, of-faslnoned flowera 
 
 the rioh, soff S whlh '""''VP'"^^ l«tween them for 
 
 ^e hngered with.a lovina wnnrilr'?»!/ ^'^ ^^^^ ««^ 
 
 thereof shallknowit-' ^LT. .^ ^^^^- '" ^he place 
 
 soûl sees itself there " ' As Ll^^l^'^r ^^" ^^^'^ ^ The 
 over it,and it is a^ne • Lrl ^^f .fi i^^ ^^^ wmdpasseth 
 
 it 18 ; and I had such plans for lifrnow - Wpii ^ ' '^''^^• 
 thus, no doubt,— no doubt " " "' ^'^® ^^^^ï* 
 
 wakmg,hi8 handheIdflW^ntSl,fi,ï u ?>r"' """î 
 
 reator alipped awa^ iTl^^ f^^'^ ""''««l 'hat the 
 with g ^-ywoSinS 1^ .T?^, •" ^'^ hia»nistofdr^,g 
 
 ..Lï^il 
 
 ■■.*:^\ 
 
 « 
 
 -A<^ -, 
 
 
 i.!if 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 ./'ft*^Wî^ s 
 
 ISfwii'ii.» 
 
•m 
 
 'i'I' 
 
 wu 
 
 230/ 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 n ^^ ^^"'^ ' ^"® ^^^'^^« ^he réàt " ''^ 
 
 . Dr. Hov^^^^alked home ^ith a strange look on' liis face 
 
 ' He answered hl^^^ughter brie%v^at Mr. ^ Denner was' 
 
 ■ t" iu/r ?:c&^^^^ stoodhospitabK- open. 
 
 . j What's the matter with the dSïîbi< asked Dick Forsv- 
 the lounging up to the rectory porch, WWs in his pockSs 
 an^ his hat on the back of his head. " I wS^hi^d him 
 
 t^:!t^--'-^ ^^-^ ^- -- ône^rs:.:^ 
 
 Diek seemed as anxious as she. "No, I won't^sit down 
 thank you. Mother just wanted to know if you'd n m in thi"' 
 afternoon a few minutes," and any.one less fri^htened than 
 
 a^otrSet:.r ^^" '- ^^^^^^ ^^« ^-^- ^^" 'hl\^ 
 
 third person; b^ there was only Max, lying ast asleepunSer 
 the slenderlegged tabla which held a blue bowl M of 
 peomes, rose, aad whke, and deep glowing rpd 
 
 in^l^ ^elt herself grow white. A sudden flash of hope came 
 mto her mmd, and then fear. What did it mean ? Was he 
 
 Mmfh«f r'' ^«,f ^^^^°«* ««k her, or would his mother telî 
 hira that he would surely. sueceed ? Oh. her promisé » 
 
 lier brcath came quick, and Mr. Fbrsythe saw it* « Yes " 
 he said, stammering with embarrassment, " I—I fear I shalV 
 Javeto^ah--important business^ ^ tear 1 shall 
 
 nf^^^^^^' thèse unhappy yoiSig people caijght sight 
 ..ofHelencommgserenelyacrossthelawn - 
 
 " There's my cousin/' said Lois ; « let us. go and meet her » 
 
 Lll^AJ^dt J 1 1^^ t &'- ^A^4^V l' ^ j^J^K.2ui' 
 
/ 
 
 / - i 
 
 JOHN WARD. PREACHER. ' 231 
 
 quiok, <l«estionr„"Uk*r^'t J "',; "^^ ^^' ^ive Lois i 
 house, ° * ^''"^ °f sympathy to Gifford Wood- 
 
 ," S.'Sel'rl^r"'" ""'" '""'*<'»^- Helen said to her cousin, 
 
 Xois's face.i^?hese LTv^ l?'''' f";'.^"'"» ">e distress ia 
 
 -4epariure; It wr^t'ri?^^ el^hi'" °"™^." "^ 
 rèfleatthat Lois was trpmWin„ ,!■.!.• ""' P*'" ""a" to 
 
 " •:'»^^'«" """™ f- *"'■ ''^°- 
 
 hi.n, and L"^^f tT^vf "^î^"^*"' '' " *^ -- ^^ 
 him I Now why'slWd^» il" , v'- '"""' '^ ''"'«l »« ««r to 
 an-ay ;>■■ ^ ""'"''' *^ 7?. l' « isn't becanse he's going 
 
 pain, and there wasT„ L^ f ??^^ '!'"^'^ h'^ SlasJness int,, 
 
 world had made thatirpos/Me ""^ '^'' '"'^''"°- !^ 
 
 die Gi& hr^cte^tre'» 11" *"'••"«""" ">«' ^^ --'' 
 the. little ladies waUdn„Trl i '""""'"•• ^e had met 
 
 shady paths of thdfwflW /™ T.*"'' '^»»"' o"» of tb« 
 ^.^^t doesn. a'^^^S5^rco*KX^nr 
 
 ' f "fi 
 
 
 t 
 
 >.!'« 
 
 ,^S, 
 
 
 < • ')! 
 
 ,'mi>'v 
 
 TT 
 
 
 S*-, ,,:-, 
 
 J»5i黫<'i<^l'«i'i 
 
 vi'«^s Jfift.'» l'ï ^' y_ 
 
 -il f-i.**** ilf*,V 
 
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 if 
 
 m 
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 il': . 
 
 M 
 
 liA 
 
 h* 
 
 ËV. 
 
 •232 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 .îtation. .. Lo pay aZtt »" ""'"^^ ^'^ ''^ •" «''°" »' *'- 
 «olwlldifvt??'''' '«'"--IMi^, R,uh, «but I cnn- 
 
 P^uJïnTJJd^ttslt^^ ^^'-"^ ^^"^^ -^^--^" Miss 
 ^Her nephew looked at^her in surprise. "I wish there 
 
 " Well then, sister ?" sai^Miss Ruth. ' 
 
 Miss Debomh nodded and siahed "T T fhini ' ». ,' 
 
 more, but at such a tS "i ''««rty to say anything 
 
 DetoS'?'™ *■" * 1"* '»* " ^hat do you mean, aînt 
 MteKÎîfh Tho wriîf'^'^f' 'f'^'^' •"" looked\fter 
 through the flickerinTlZ ? 'u"*®' ?' mshine that feU 
 
 homSCwlJl* " " '■ '' '^^O '-I-''-^.' -d with a 
 
 ^V^ f^'V-., ''M 
 
 
^y 
 
 asked Miss 
 show of ir- 
 
 but I cau- 
 se unfortu- 
 •d f ' 
 
 but Willie 
 
 ithy, " l'ni 
 rd, do yoii 
 
 er?" Miss 
 
 nah there 
 t 
 
 k: so " she 
 
 :he house. 
 
 Deborah 
 
 uth get a 
 ung For- 
 d at dear 
 aiijthing 
 
 îan, aunt 
 
 ■^ 
 
 ^ed after 
 sy path, 
 that fell 
 she was 
 
 > 
 
 any one 
 m know 
 
 l with a 
 
 . s:tî'^*„h 
 
 
 JOHN WARD, 10kCUEU. 
 
 233 
 
 told Adèle Dale and Ad Je tÎ,1 fff **■ '^™'*"« ^'oraythe 
 ««■irse. «t was n^to be l^r J"^ ""=' l""* I»-ivately, tff 
 only „.^., ^^;^,r„teS^ -■>--; but U^;as 
 
 " Oh, iâr Giff ° crfed M?.?{^ ^"^ ^^"""'" ^"'^ h" "»« offi 
 
 ^teps as she tri^dtc^^n^aft r",t"^^'^ -t'f "'T"' 
 "? Yo« won t snmt nf ;t t„ iimwont mention 
 
 " Wo 1" hl 11 Vu ? '* '" ""y one, or sav I_T »_ 
 <■ tfoteven? ''""'*■-'■ "»■«« o™^'» not." ' 
 
 thought it looked too llght 3bri°L for '"''\''"«;'"'. she 
 s<f trotted up.8t„ir, to the «amt an,l J» r ""* '^ ™"' »<» 
 a great chest of drawers oC ;, ' -l""*"? o» tip-toe by 
 brass rings might nTciXr on ?h' "'"î "','""' ""•*• "•"' t^e 
 and distirfb them and !it? k «-•^'' ",™' P'"'*^ under them 
 was swéet with Lender and^L^'f P^^'"^' ^he draw"; 
 from its wrappSÏÏ"'S snlj^ "'over, and, as she lifted 
 . shawl, some pSe brilIwlTell/Tn ^^"^ "««^ lacé 
 
 . she thought and the wM^îwŒwS'hlf t«' ''1^ '^'^^^■ 
 •tan straw, tied with soft w^? v^i "."^ """"^ Neapoli- . 
 
 feet were la.gf and CforLh^ il???' P""'"?,'' ^'^ »'> hei- 
 Why, Kuth WoodhoHSe l" she cried. "Hâve you no 
 
 ^(^^ ,ddiC^'^>«» . Il ^-%tâi^ 
 
 * 
 
 ■sa 
 
 .;ï 
 
 "■s 
 
 " M 
 
 r 
 
 ^.^„i I 
 
\234 
 
 lu':! 
 
 JONH WARD, PKEACHER. 
 
 forward for v?u t<«fnr^î'^ï'!? "*'"'«• And it is verv 
 
 ttends). it shÔuidté r ,ô fam'nlr l!!* " ("^'-^ '"»" «^ 
 But Miqs Tînf >, ^-^ ? "^ nearer his a^e." 
 
 call to-morrow Jt Tmo^» K ^' '^" «fternoon, but we wiU 
 possible." -^ ' '"""' •'^«omnig to put it off as long â" 
 
 ^MetÙ?, a^d Lft Miss DTb^ h't *^ ""Tî^^" ""h l^"' 
 
 a clean wliite eofn eZne o^îhlT ^""^J^ï' ^""^y ^ad put 
 valance aroundit a J'' th» , ,w i.f"'* ''""'"""^ « fre^h 
 had placed a big bunch „f .nivTo ' .*'. '''' '''*'' *""« 
 
 haps less thougSt ofta^ul/Sn'cTfor ' '"P'"^' '''"' P^ 
 
 r^^vi^^:^^''y:nLl;:/i^^ And ho., i, 
 
 her my thanks for her tLn,liftf i *"?* y" conveyed to 
 
 detaining you as welu'^^ "'""''' ""'' ">■ "P^'ogies for 
 
 4Sï?^ '"- rerbeTa^yri^ : ' '''■ ^•'^^ - 
 tettst^irxr !3|^^^^^^ 
 
 weën a sigh and a gtoaj ïï' Oiffn^ i "i" ^f- Denner^^t- 
 ■•hovrgentleyouareV^",;- i, 5°?^,^"^ him down a^n. 
 tin.es,ofoneofyouVaunn;,. V^'J'H '.".y»'"- face, sôme- 
 I havethough nS sLll f î"'' ^ """> ^^'^ 0«'»'^'>, 
 
 ature of my little sSer I aHn ri •!'"'Tr ''*™ *e mini- 
 were^yetX «ave i^S^/S^^Tm^i^^L!^''. 
 
 1.1|^\ 1^ IJS.^ 
 
 >' ."-|^ f» 
 
 
#?4- 
 
 you had gone 
 ^nd it is very 
 îing such old 
 
 Are you not 
 
 to-morrow. 
 but we wili 
 ff as long as 
 
 ed wîth but 
 J rest of the 
 ith Baxter's 
 
 1 house, he^ 
 iry had put 
 Qed a fresh 
 »ide WiJIie 
 
 I, with peiN. 
 
 nd how, if 
 3nveyed to 
 3logies for 
 
 They are 
 
 pping his 
 
 him that 
 
 [leld in a 
 
 vn a^in, 
 ce, some- 
 Deborah.- 
 . Gifford,. 
 fie mini- 
 Y for me 
 
 JOHX WAKD, PREACHER.. 235 
 
 Srd ?' > ' '''''''' "^^ --^'^ to seom to slight Miss Kuth 
 ^^'Jhe could not feel it so, I k„ow," the young iâan an^ 
 
 twÇ aî^n'^SSvS^^to^^^^ upon it, fo. 
 
 <'f sleep, lie said quite to hiinseîf ^^îh"/,^^?? ^^''' «^ snatches 
 seem marked to pass over I^ï^«s Éuth ' ^f ^^' î^^tit would 
 n^ured, " I «hould not wlsJ to sh^h M" ^"^ fS^^" he.^ur- 
 . Later in the afternoou hp t f ^iss Deborah's s^ter." 
 look in his face. "Tt occuïs t? '"f/^^: ""''^ ^ bright. clear 
 
 another portrait, of nova ^at ail !:^^^^' '"^' • '^^"' ^ ^^^^ 
 ature (and of course it is becomin t W ?f '^ -^^'^ ^he mini- 
 ^o to Miss Deborah). vSiT^^h " "^^^^îf^ "^'^^ 
 Because she is the sister of Vss D? hoi^' ^° ^^'^^ ^^"^h. 
 Gifford. Perhapsvou w,ll L ^eborah, you understand 
 
 package from thaisanTelittld/'"'^ Ti" ^^"^' ^^« ^helure 
 
 Gifford broucht it Twl t'"'^^" ' ^^''^ '^ ^he key" ^ 
 and frayed àloSg thelearhe/ba'f^^^^^ '^^^^h worn 
 
 hooks which used to teen i? t'?'^7'^'^'?"^^^^^^i"lebrass 
 been tied aboutit to ke^?t los d Mr' d'^' ^'t?''^" ^^4 
 11 ; he patted the fadçn '^nhZjfh^^'l^^^ '^'^ "«^ open 
 "It is a portrait of nrVseTf '' h^ « , ^!V'"^^ ^hin fingers. 
 î^other. I had it taken for V^^ " It belonged to'my 
 
 I was only thirty She M the Ïbbon • T .'"'' ^^^ ' ^'^«^ . 
 opened since." " "^bon ; it has never beea 
 
 gmt andlpr "" "" ''''"'■ ''^'h^ "-ature, „„c,er the- . 
 . So it happened that when Miss Ihnh w ^u ^ 
 mquire for him. she had beenîn M. n ''''^^^T ^^"^^ ^o- 
 the afternoon. «Not " he kp^f .'^' ^^nnei-'s thoughts ait ' 
 
 Deborah^s eister." ^^ ail,— but she is Miss 
 
 Gifford. "^ ' and then beckoned mysteriously to 
 
 better'c'SISL?' """'' '^ know how hTis. Vou"^ 
 M.33 Woodhou8e,ify^up?i^'„^ y»" ^y.Mary? Which 
 
 'M 
 
 /i 
 
 iv 
 
 ^tf*» i^à»^ '- 
 
 îtî.'' 
 
 ,1 J î. 
 
 ► •*é^y 
 
 ./ 
 
 ^•^v '^ «j?,-* ■ - , j - '^. . .i . 
 
 à-.- 
 
, I 
 
 I 
 
 if. 
 
 236 
 
 V 
 
 JOHN WARD, PUEACHEK. 
 
 tion Giffortl, to permitting me to see vour aunf ? TW f 
 
 co^'''nf"„"„"' ™' '? \''.""^'' "' °™f and excitement. ""'ni 
 
 forhTm oTit'^r''"^^ ^'' I ca.?t but thifk it^bett' 
 M T^ ^® people at once." 
 
 Uh, dear me, Mr. Denner," said she, half cryina in snite o^ 
 
 ^i^t:^^'^^'^^^ ''- - distresidt;r,c:! 
 
 R 1?,^*' "f ^^ ^"'" '^^Vomted Mr. Dernier, but his voice had 
 
 strëitïinï;'l'';7n^'- .^^''T ^^'g^'^' «g^i»' with a flash of 
 
 SdnotTnrlTi^p'î'^.l '"^ ^^'^^'^^ *^^" lifctle table, but he 
 Snd « if vn ^ ^'fi^u^' '^'^ "P^^^ ^^ffôrd put it into his 
 
 ^ou o7en i^ff" ""'"^f ^' 'î/°"^ ^' ^« a«cept this ;• and wil 
 ^®J,®P^^ 1*^' if youplease, Miss Ruth ? " 
 
 of Mr îf "'"' "^'^il «^blifig fingers. It was a daguerréotype 
 bL^hVf''''^'' *^' ^^^ neckcloth and the shSrt-waisted 
 bmss-buttoned coat and waisteoat showed its a'^as TeU as 
 
 DennS^^""^"^ was I splakirig of," Gifford ?" said Mr. 
 
 Uû, yes, just so. I merely wished to add that I desirpH 
 to présent it to Miss Deborah's 8ister.--thou2h t is Tnf 
 value, uotthe least value; but I shouid be fSnoîed by Z 
 
 ..^Atj. 
 
 :•&•:;. '-J'AiTp^ 'Mi'.- 
 
JOHN WARD; »AciER. 
 
 237 
 
 relatively. 
 er quaver in 
 •ve any objec- 
 it ? Xhat is, 
 îtep in for a 
 
 éd. " Let, me 
 
 ■■,* 
 
 sment. " l'H 
 ?ht see hipi ; 
 nk it's better 
 
 of his hand, 
 f, in spite of 
 ;o see you so 
 
 is voice had 
 ied to speak 
 re very good 
 iber what it 
 
 acceptance. And perhaps you wûrbe good enou-h to-to 
 cmivey the assurance of my esteem to Miss Deborah And 
 
 ^t^' '^^''-' ^« '^ ^^^ î^- ^»- -inaut ofX' 
 ;; Yes," s^id Miss Ruth, who Was crying softly. 
 
 ûer ^buufi, n^M ~^''' 't""«'^ '"^ mind," said Mr. den- 
 ?!f' 1 \} • ^ improper, I am sure, that Miss Deborih'a 
 sister shotild give me-if she will be sJ -ood-her hand tfh i? 
 T may say good^bye ? " . , " "^' T' 
 
 Miss Ruth did not quite understand, until Gifford motiJned 
 
 Mr. Denner's eyes were very dim " 
 
 7?nm~^ am very happy," he . myrmured. î' I thank you 
 
 fwï\ ^f *^'"; ^ ™°"^'"^ a^tef " if you will excuse me I 
 thmk I will rest for a few moments " ' 
 
 StiU holding Miss Ruth's hand," he'turned his heaiî in n 
 weary way towards the ligbt, and sôftly closed h eyeT 
 Mr. Denner rested. -^ -r. 
 
 <'î«< 
 
 is a growing 
 
 b'* 
 
 a flash of 
 
 u would ac- 
 
 ble, but he 
 
 it into his 
 
 î; and will 
 
 juerreotype 
 
 Drt-waistà, 
 
 as well as 
 
 faceof the 
 
 said Mr. 
 
 I desired 
 t is of no 
 fed by its 
 
 CHAPTER XXlV 
 
 sn^lM? '^^"^■'% ofDéathis better understoodwhen 
 somff httle aoul is swallowed up -in the oreat, M,.f^i;*i; 
 wWto™ is takeu on whom U has làM heST *!? 
 and made famous, and necessary. . ^ """ 
 
 Eveil m quiet Ashiirst, Mr. Denner was ai ho Hmc^if 
 woud hâve said, of no consequenee, and Ife Ii4« «^^0 
 ^minfT ™^' P.' "'■"'' ""^ «"« g^«. * sudd™kno^ed"e 
 
 sr s?d7atrctt"^rer ■ ■^-'^ "»" n" '^'"^■^ ^" 
 
 .,!^:!ir!!!>f°;y-^-. '° ^^ose «.t sad d^s, that her 
 
 
 n 
 
 
 
# 
 
 ••' M l I 
 
■i# 
 
-■% \> 
 
 ■.•fy 
 
 :238 
 
 JOHN WAÉD, PKEACHER. 
 
 she as well as Gifïord never souglit to maJ^e the sorrow less 
 .by evading the truth., Birt Heleu was troubled aboiTt her 
 aodsaidto J)r. Howe, '•' Lois must We to see me for a 
 whi e ; she does need a change " very much. Tm a^mid she 
 wont be ab e to^go with me next week,' but can^t she corne 
 :as soon as she is strong enough to tiavel ? " 
 
 And so it was decideO. ^that sh^ should corne with Gîfford 
 who wou d go back to Lockhaven in about a fortnight Busi- 
 iiess, which never reached Mr. Denner in Mercerrhad been 
 offered the young laWyer, and he had-been willing to stay in 
 Ashurst a little longer, though he had told himself he was a 
 
 Lois Içoked Vorward to tlie visit with feverish anxiety Mr 
 
 She^ranir^''^'^S^!'''^'^ his mother, b,t certainly wTth 
 rather an ill oxace, had lingered in Ashurst. But he had not 
 
 time to make visits, or be careless and light-hearted while 
 . httle Mr. Dennef Vas fading out of life, ànd his mothe^felt 
 herself trenabbng on the edge of the grave. ThSat W 
 was what Mrs; Forsythe said°to Loi^ mSre than once vlitHn 
 
 She had accepted very complacently Lois's protestations of 
 joy and gratitude that she w^%o longer, as sreTpressTd it 
 
 Zr^^TJ'tr:i '"^4^^^ r ^arent^SlS 
 tnat altered at ail the additions of the promise Lois' had 
 given her, which was eyfitly a very precious thin^ Nor 
 did Lois remonstrate. a^inst being . held by it. Shé lelt she 
 deserved any gnef tli^ came to he"r. and itwould hâve been 
 cowardly, she. thought, to shrink from what she had uuder^ 
 taken merely bec^ï^se she had been so far mercifully spared 
 tle grie o Mrs. l'orsythe's death. And who cou?d teU that 
 she wou d hve even yet? Certainly Mrs. FoLytL 1 ersd 
 seemed to consider her ré^very a matter of g^av^doubt and 
 Lois's anxieties were quicis to agrée with her 
 
 fL .!.If "I ^ï'!''!.'^}^^ ^ ^^i^« face an d eyes from which ' 
 t^me careiGflfi iriivatv had gwue,simpiy bea.rilïg lier life wiïli^ 
 
 stant, fpflr fiift'r^^A ?i. ..1 
 
 deratood it he thought, m view of what Miss Deborah had 
 told km and what he knew of Mr. Forsythe's pCHhat tt 
 

 ^ 
 
 '¥ 
 
 JOHK WARD, PKEACHEE. 239 
 
 8teadfastly underthe tabi S' '' l'';''T''- *■"* '"^^'^ 
 beat suffoLting ;, that h^a "^"th".,^^^ " '""' '"''"■' 
 
 ™ue\t!i wfe rr^^^^^ ^rs 
 
 torv r?^ iT ï 1 ^^ ^^ cheered and comforted at the rec 
 a^dXrê X ! fl*^;:"'* «^«!^™"''«l.«'e>-e for Dr. Howe; 
 
 little valueless belont-naTrT?^^ '''''^ ^^^ treasured his 
 oaxîk. rhere were one or two relies- of the Kttle sister: a 
 
 9f"^.. 
 
 i 
 
 I ^■■ 
 
 
 ' fe 
 
 ^l<l 
 
 ^ 
 
 »« <■; ' tA-„J,^ 
 
 •f . 
 
 »,4i..,iV, 
 
^■^^t- 
 
 240 
 
 r • 
 \ 
 
 ^ =*''|îSi?5|*| 
 
 JOHN WABD, PREACHER. 
 
 smali green morocco shoe, which had buttoned about her 
 ankle, and a pair of gold shoulder-straps, and a narrow pink, 
 nbbon sash that had grown yellovv oa the outside fdd. 
 
 There was a pile of.neatly kept diaries, witli faithful ac- 
 counts of the weather, and his fishing excursions, and the 
 whist parties ; scarcely more than this, except a brief men- 
 tion of amarriage or a death. Of course there were letters • 
 not very many, but aU neatly labeled with the writer's name 
 and the date of their arrivai. Thèse Gifford 'burned, and the 
 blackened ashes were in tiie wide fireplace, behind a jug of 
 fiovyers, on which he could hear, down the chimney, the oc- 
 casioual splash of a raindiop. There was one package of let- 
 ters where the naine was " Gertrude ;" there were but few of 
 thèse, and, had Gifford lookeii, he would hâve seen that the' 
 last one, blistered with tears, said that her father had forbid- 
 den further corre^ondence,,and bade hira, with the old epis- 
 tolary formality fiom which not even love could escape " an 
 eternal farewell." But the tear-stains told more than the 
 words, at least of Mr. Denner's heart, if not of pretty sixteen- 
 year-old Gertrude V. Thèse were among the first to be 
 burned ; yet how Mr. Denner had loved them, even though 
 Gertrude, running away with her dancing-master, and becom- 
 mg the mother of a family of boys, had been dead thèse 
 twenty years, and tlie proverb had pointed to Miss Deborah 
 Woodhouse ! 
 
 Some papers had tç be sealed, and the few pièces of sQver 
 packed, ready to be sent to the bank in Mercer, and then Gif- 
 ford had donc. 
 
 He was in the library, from which the bed had been 
 moved, and which was in trira and dreary order. The rain 
 still beat fitfuUy updn the Windows, and the room was quite 
 dark. Gifford had pushed the writing-desk up to the window 
 for the last my of light, and now he sat there, the. papers ail 
 arranged and nothing more to do, yet a vague, tender loyalty 
 to the httle dead gentleman keeping him. And sitting, lean- 
 mg his elbows on the almost unspotted sjieet of blue blottincr- 
 paper which ^overed the ope n fla p of the desk. he fell jnto 
 
 Troiïblèd thinking^ 
 
 " Of course," he said to himself, *' she's awfully distressed 
 about Mr. Denner, but there's something more than that 
 
 ïi-if-aAiV-i? ,.»/.. 
 
«'*■(? 
 
 ¥ 
 
 JOHN WÀRD, PREACHER. 
 
 / 
 
 trouble ! If on^ytr a w^k 1..^''' ^ •^"j'"' ^^^^ «^e^is ii! 
 
 h-- so Jittle atte" ion T If 1 ^rs^^^f '^t' ""'f ^""^ P^^ 
 ougut to tl^rash him for his ludenêss Tf T •' ?''"'!' T'^ody 
 —But I suppose he .^es nof ^^ , ^^'^ ^'^"^ '^ ^ï"«ther ! 
 
 loves Imn. WhereVHele,?^ rh^n' ""^ ^';^''^"' '"^'' ^^en Lois 
 suppose she tluiri^h^ ^^^^^^^^^^^ Oh I 
 
 l^'lM't prou.ised auut Deborah" ^^ '^'^' her^.if !> 
 
 to bnng jou thèse overshoes. Sl.e was . Sd v7f ^'"'8 
 aiid wouM take cold." ' ■>^"" '""• ""ne, 
 
 g.avity. • ■""' """' '""' » gl««"> «f «urpiise at Gifford'" 
 
 he;onta7«ro«rowte L'ffT ''■""' '"^ -""•-." 
 
 decided to «o too so nf ^1. F,? "^ to-morrow. Mother's 
 to do, a„d Û old ]adv i.T^' ?T ^V «""^ •"""> 'Wngs 
 had^ogo^ouX^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 tha*;;SiXeflv"Thev^^"^' ^'T '^^■-^- »d 
 hn» i . I.. . ! ""fy- ^'"^yott ngm e n, lioareiror, o oo mcd iu im 
 
 241 
 
 --^«te ttr gu: 
 
 he;aidrsltr„rhSi„'ïïrA' ""^ foomorout^f-doÔrs.- 
 Gi«.rd.a,.aSdirli"J,î^i':SL':«i^^^^^^^ 
 
 lia. 
 
 N 
 
 
 »v 
 
 f -, 
 
V...-- 
 
 ./ 
 
 V '' (' 
 
 >\i 
 
 242 
 
 JOHN WA^D, PRBACHER 
 
 *'must have been a glooïny house to live in. Wonder he 
 never gotr married. Perh^ps lie couldn't find anybody wiUing 
 to stay in suAa hole,— it's so confoundedly damp. He died 
 in hérp,didn'rhe ?" This was in a lowec toice. 
 
 " Yes," Gifford answered. 
 
 'f Shoûldn't think you'd stay alone," Dick went on , " it is 
 awfuUy dismal. I see he cheered himseîf once in a while." 
 He pointed to a tray, which held a varions collection of pipes 
 and a dingy tobacco» pouch of buckskin with a border of 
 colored porcupine quills. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Denner smoked," Gifford was constrained to 
 
 ^'" I think," "said Dick, clapping his hand upon his breast- 
 pocket, "111 havea cigar myself. It braces up one thisweather." 
 He struck a match on the sole of his boot, forgetting it was 
 wet, ané vowing good-naturedly that he was an ass. "No 
 objection, I suppose ?" he added, carefully biting of the .end 
 of his cigar. 
 
 ".I should prefer," Gifford replied slowly,. " that you did 
 not smoke. There is an impropriety ^oUt it, which surely 
 you must appreciate.'^ 
 
 Dick iooked at him, with the lighted match 'flaringbluely 
 betweén his Angers. " Lord !" he said, " how many tliings are 
 improper in Ashurst ' But just as you say, of course."'' He 
 put his cigar back iu au elaborate case, and blew out the 
 match^ throwing it into the fireplace, among the flowera. 
 "The old gentleman smoked himseîf,^ though." 
 
 Gifford's face flushed sloWly, and he spoke with even more 
 délibération than usual. *' Since you have decided not to 
 smoke, you must not let me detaiii jou. I am very much 
 obliged for the package." 
 
 " You're welcome, l'm sure," Dick said. " Yes, I suppose 
 l'd bëtter be getting along. Well, l'il say good-by, Mr. 
 Woodhouse. I suppose I shan't see you before I go ? And 
 Heaven knows when ru be in Ashurst again !" 
 
 Giffoiçd started, ".Sit down a moment," he said, waving 
 - a s ide B^ ick' s J ia mL-^l^ur o ly yoa are not l e avi ng Ash ur al f tt r^ 
 any length of time ?" J 
 
 i •' Le igth of timie ?" answered the other, laughing. " Well, 
 I rattter think so. I expect to go abroad next month," 
 
 . t 
 
 -Mt^'.' ^i'ît i.v>!!f''Cm«!fc»i. 
 
 An', 
 
 ,.*i 
 
v^,-:'ff^-*^^* y I 
 
 iVondex lie 
 
 )dy wiUing 
 
 He died 
 
 on , " it is 
 
 1 a while." 
 
 )n of pipes 
 
 border of 
 
 rained to 
 
 lis breast- 
 jweather." 
 :ng it was 
 
 ISS. " No 
 f the end 
 
 it you did 
 Lcli surely 
 
 ng bluely 
 ^hings are 
 •se.'' He 
 out the 
 j flowera, 
 
 ren more 
 d not to 
 sry much 
 
 '. suppose 
 -by, Mr. 
 D? And 
 
 , waving 
 lursfc icjjf- 
 
 JOHN WARIX PREACHER. 
 
 '^,' • 
 
 l'f:^' " 
 
 # 
 
 "Well, 
 
 243 '^^ ' 
 .eeaseless smile was torh tn «Lt f ""'' *"'"' ^ra ,mtil hil 
 
 voiee whieh /onid nof ha^f J^'a^'d';"' '^''«'' "' ''"S" '» "'s 
 plans?» j i asK it Dr. Howe knows ot j-our 
 
 done to deserve this conoern nn , , 'l'"'' tnow what IVe 
 but, sinee yo,, ask, I hTvT ,o ow2' "^""l' ^'^ «'"«dhouse! 
 Howe does not particuUrlv l^rh °" ? •"'^"'« """ ^^ 
 dou't know whether he's awar» S T'' '" "^ ««airs. I ' 
 
 >ng deflantly i„t„ GS"s^face Tt"™'"'""? '"'<''«'>'■ l"*-' , 
 
 &^r^t.^: yT^-i--;- 3eal^-^»:s 
 
 ance\rDTHrw??'Cklrn''"^ of ao mueh import, ■ 
 extent of askrng L aKhem " **'' •"' "^ -^"^ '« «>e . 
 
 ah^uld^take y„„Way ^t thisIS. ^^Z'^S^. . ' . 
 
 voi;jtt7b,!"r.tra^;^^ 
 
 Plamly instead of hlntiZ^T^hat rilt r"^ ^""^ '" *k 
 myleavingAshurst?" ^ "" "8*" l>ave you to question - 
 
 " No right.-; Gifford said calmly. 
 
 
 
 * . 
 
 
 '•'31 
 
 .f 
 
Iii^.j 
 
 ■ ;«*-^'^^^^^pP 
 
 244 
 
 '•N'. 
 
 JOHN WAEt), PREACHEK. 
 
 fc 
 
 ■ Why dont you speak out like a man?" Forsythe, 
 
 • ^lemanded with a burst e^ rage, striking the table with his 
 nst V^hatdoyou rnean by your damned impudence? So 
 
 you dare to question my coïidûet to^ Lois Howe do vou? 
 
 you confounded prig !" ' ' , 
 
 Be silerit !" Giiford said between his teeth. "Gentlemen 
 do not mtroduce the name of a woman into their discussions 
 iou ftffgot yoursMf. It is ugnqcessary to pursue this subiect 
 l'hâve nothnig more to say." • *^ ' 
 
 . ' ^utl hâve more to say. Who gave you.thG*right to speak 
 tome? l^j^e lady herself ? She must be indeed distressS to 
 choose you for a messenger." - 
 
 Gifford did not answer ; for a moment' the dark room was 
 yery still, except the beating rain and the^tapping of the 
 .ivy at the south window. 
 
 " Or perhaps," he went ou» a sneer curling his handsome 
 niouth, " yoù will comfort her yourself, instead ? Well. vou're 
 welcome." . *^ 
 
 Gifford'^ hands clenched on the back of the- chair in front 
 ot him. '< Sir," he aTaid, " this place protects you, and vou 
 kijow it.' ./ ' j 
 
 But Dick Forsythe was beside himself with an^er ' He 
 laughed msultiDgly. " l'il not detain you any longer! Doubt- 
 less you will wish to go to the rectory to-night. But Vm 
 afiaid, even though l'm obliging enough to leave Ashurst 
 you will hâve no "— He did not finish his sentence. Gifford 
 Woodhouse's hand closed like a vise upon his collar There 
 were no words. Dick's strug^es were as useless as beatino- 
 agamst a rock; his maddest efforts could not shake off that 
 relentless hand. Gifford half pushed, balf carried him to the 
 door, and m another moment Dick Forsythe found himself 
 flung like a snapping cur in the mud and ràin of Mr Den- 
 ner's garden. 
 
 He gâtheïed himself up, and saw Gifford standing in the 
 doorway, as though to offer him a chance of revenge. 
 
 " Dauin you !" he scream'ed, furious with passion. " l'il pav 
 yQB for this ! I-F— Hftc h oked with j ^e ^d ah eek^his^yb 
 at the motiorleas figure on the steps. Then, trembling with- 
 impotent fury, oaths stumbling upon his lips, he tumed and 
 rushed into the gajthering darkness. 
 
 «Î^WeS/ ' » d'Aï vJ i i \ ^ r* J- V 
 
\v.. 
 
 
 Jorsythe, 
 e with his 
 idenpe'PSo 
 do you ? — 
 
 Gentlemen 
 liscussioiis. 
 Ws subject. 
 
 ht to s^eak 
 3tressed to 
 
 : room was 
 iug of the 
 
 handsome 
 ''ell, you'ie 
 
 lir in front 
 i, and you 
 
 nger. ' He 
 îr. Doubt- 
 But l'iii 
 i Ashurst, 
 . Gififord 
 ir. There 
 as beating 
 ) off that 
 lim to the 
 d himself 
 Mr. Den- 
 
 ng in the 
 
 "l'ilpay 
 > k h i s fifit 
 ing with- 
 medand 
 
 :^i^ '- 't ■;■*■ ..1 f^'"î.i Jï- ■'.■ 
 
 ' '" ''■'. ^'•■ 
 
 4dHN WARD, PKEACHER. 
 
 245 
 
 nnd he was tingli"f witT 'a jtt T ."f 'î"^"'' «"« «hort, 
 
 ,tri«,„ph. MVe^bee- TUPC^J^' ^Z"'', "° ="'»" "^ 
 
 IVe made it worse for her The hou"d F ^"^ '"'"" " '»»' ' 
 
 «et him.» '»ve her, he thought, "and she will for- 
 
 wiIl4'ot:^dtlt^;e"rw"^^^ «»-r. «led 
 
 tions upon Forsythe GiffoX i!l m"™ ?"''"*'^ ^^ «"«s- 
 
 '»!.. Hadhenotgvenl.wL'f>?:''tJ'''"'''^ »':««°* 
 
 Would not he haveDrotL.?h-^ ■^./'"' ."?'"■ '» imultj him? 
 
 fwordbiusheXTX'XZesr^!r.r?r''è^^^^ 
 
 name,— not that ! Nothin.» co,.W iL-f ^»' "" <» use^ Lois'» 
 Mary came in to look ul „nH i . f ''^^ '"'"" '» ' h»'' '"' 
 
 ^'Shtofthedark,stIlt"?e ^i^'1.^''ï '"^h' »' the 
 shrilly. '. '""■■'"«• Lord lit'sagliost!" she cried ■ 
 
 „„;i«"' hère, Mary." he said wearily.' ...'m goi„g -home 
 
 ■'histld;ett'dTfstSdt^t'^'''r"'> '"e storm. with 
 
 Deboruh's tho^^tfXSn'îht' wC „?' 'hr""' "' ^^ 
 anxious to avold anv kindlv inf^^ /■ ™hherê; and oaly 
 
 whichtheiranxietyconcerSi ?"?"?"■*<"" his «unts 
 But he oould not escap thl^ S ?,'t'"'\""«''î ""^»'''^''- 
 doorwith a worried face "W„ h' ?"''*.?'"«' him at the - 
 urabVeUa ? Prav ^tô ^!:i j- ^. ^^'■'^ h»y '" she said "no 
 hot drink Yr/Srsutlv r"''' *■"" >' "^ hring you a 
 the httle lady came baek /Lh/™ ."""S^u'""'''''™^ B»t ' 
 or he had answered her w,"th a S'^^ ?''' *" "««"«^«^ ^ce. 
 ftissed over. The sist^?, h!» 5 \" ' détermination not to be 
 
 and look his doorTheylook^daT ''ft.r'*'^' "P-^'^i^ 
 ment. - ' "°^ '""''^ "t each ^her in ainn,.,!.- . 
 
 1% 
 
 ^^^r:t'i:î7^K" -*■! Mfs Kuth. 
 
 J^es, returned Miss Dehornh . €k u 1 
 Papers ail the afternoon f mnif^^^ ^^^^^^" ^^^^"g the 
 morrow." '^rnoon, i nioBt go and see Willi? to- 
 
 
 I 
 
 I" 
 
 - S' 
 
 
 m 
 
246 
 
 Ti~\rf-^ l-v Vk <-!> ^', 
 
 <■ 
 
 JOHN WÀRB, PREACHER. 
 
 /^^f-j? 
 
 ¥1 
 
 I cannot help 
 
 f T "^P^ *•}'' ^^^*'" ^is8 Ruth answered 
 feelmg that it is-my place." 
 
 ture shows plamly his sentiments towLrds^ne -I knovv t 
 wodd wxsh me to look after Willie. Indeej Tfeel it'a"rcred 
 
 :dea'frwa?tttc^^^^^^^^^^^ Mr. D.nnerV 
 
 iwithout .gitJZ ' '" ^' possible^to speak of him. 
 
 k I wav'" Thf ^''- ?"^^.' " prhapsfafter ail, you are right 
 ^^.^^L^^^^""' Ofeourse^portraLf 
 
 Did^vo.i^îf''"'"'" '^^1^^^ "^^^^^ "I'^° ashamedof you' 
 
 ' Tn ■,,„> J»», 'konght he had foung a means of revend 
 i.^ ^* , . ""^^*"*^*» a.na JJr. Howewasreadina "Vn^Mi 
 
 •^i "y3 ^â",'='""« !"' Helen dear ? " she.pleaded. 
 
 hi» meoe los* «lernselve» in their own mterMts. 
 
 •».v 
 
 

 ^,- 
 
 k .,., j^f, ..^j, <f -, 
 
 cannot help 
 
 " the ininia- 
 •I know he 
 el it a sacred 
 
 ^r. Denner's 
 Deak of him. 
 
 ou are right, 
 a portrait of 
 
 imedof you! 
 alue ? And 
 !r!" 
 
 th, eagerly. 
 altered coii- 
 ^uerreotype 
 1 to herself, 
 3w he said 
 
 Perhaps it 
 ng Giiïbrd 
 •el, or pos- 
 oodhouse's ■ 
 îvenge. 
 Helen was 
 ; " You'll 
 id, looking 
 rthe. 
 
 ^ou know 
 terrupted.. 
 
 [Ument to' 
 
 uid when 
 'Ctor an(£ 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEK. . '247 
 
 wiKnTdtf^^^^^^ ^^^ '" ^^^^- -d' --ng towards her 
 fastened angrily L^on Lr ' ^t T"^-?' ^'' ^''^^^ ^lue eyes 
 
 onti:^ tTzrâ ihittlr^^^ -^^ Ashu.t with. 
 
 '^"d^ere'nVSe ty' f ^' '^^ "^^ «^^^ --e ? 
 
 party/S^Lr^hV 0^^^^^^^ dinner 
 
 trembling hands with cruel fKuLtron tTT '^^^^ ^°^ 
 cared!" exultation in his face. " If J 
 
 tbn-k m;',a7-: ,*>,! -"' on, ■■ how often I ahaU 
 
 rigS: butCp"S;rhL°' t ''r.'' "'•'"•' -- -« -d ' 
 
 fro.a him, and iZ !L° ï k .®,'"' ""^^ "J™ed her face away 
 question wMch "seeÏÏol'wfElT «'{ T ^'f"^ «™ *I 
 
 Hut she nevet looked at him ^ WereTfKte. 
 
 whëuYcolTb^'k**^^ '''"O »» ■"« ■" he contiuued. •' but 
 
 II- v'.i"' 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 ' M 
 
 
 *ll 
 
 e ::'?■> 
 
 11^ 
 
 ' ■■Siiè; 
 
 '*<.'&*' 
 
 
«k; 
 
 .7 I '-^ I-J"t\ 
 
 '248 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 put herhands un toherS »hh '\''''°'' breathless. She 
 «on of her though s WhM dld it ^?*'\ w""?' "'^ ^""f- 
 
 prospects ! She'll wait for'mp If ;, ■ P"' ^" *■"* *« yo»"- 
 
 weil^'she does n't wX^i „'^Vbroad ^riUe./' "J"^' "^ 
 to ment on it Mothpr woq rfX , ^*^^V' *^^^ mother not 
 her for the askinar" "°''^ '''^'" '^^^ «^'^ I eould hâve 
 
 / 
 
 CHAPTKR XXV. 
 
 start» Monfa^iî^^LY*-^ "''"■" •7""'^' »>- "acide to 
 
 >«■>. Ix)is, deari" ^"^ '''"«^'■- ■*»<' y»"'" corne 
 
 with pleadilg^ mL^yZ^^tZ^^"^" 7 "■ ■* """'' 
 the page a of Allument 1rli:°l'^" ^T!°°, ^tmggled throngh 
 
 J- P nits receipt,and answer ,t point by point. Sho 
 
 
 «^-^^S^fï riSi#^^^^ h • 
 
 fli if^'îii 
 
\ 
 
 •w 
 
 i r«-Jt\''ia ' 
 
 • •'<.->'. '^wm'ij^'n,; 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER 
 
 249 
 
 we can, in this bZtmtd Qh'T^'.f''^ togetherwhile 
 «an think of nothin"éli" ' "" '*^" '"' home ; I 
 
 over with eladness in snit» nf k ' , "'^^ ^™^ runninff 
 
 watching HeJen Dut J h»; K /u '? ™«"".V- is shâ sat 
 
 Helen said, brightly. ' ^"^ happier, too," 
 
 For Lois was so worn anrl fir^rï f»,„<- i . 
 
 . would hâve called he^êlf Ul TV * J^' ^"^'"^ P»"^» 
 bear the long ride to Me4iknd tr*' l'xxT "<* »"•= '» 
 alone for Dr Howe hX^„ ri f ^ ?'' ^*''"' "»« »" go • 
 perfo«ç::a fcariagrce^5L'„°f "" '''''^'"•'" * ""'« "«^ t» 
 
 to-mo„„w instead of to-dan sLuTd ?ft„ ft'* «'' Jî*"'^» ' 
 could n't vou stav f^»„h/f„i. i '"''"<'«' ' Or why 
 
 stand i. t.. &4%^^f'',^;^»«'- h»";;^ longer? Çonlri J. „ 
 
 -ïrat> riiht._tha:^sr;;^Tzs^ 
 
 ataious to get you back as you am ïo r,m' .^^ J?'^ " " 
 perhaps he doe, n't want yi. yZ» Cv >• ïht"'' i°"? "' ' 
 hed at Helen's confident liok "TSo^\Jt "^^ '*?«- 
 to Mercer by yourself," he added. ''''^ y"" S™"» 
 
 ' J 
 
 J t 
 
 
 
 - v^^^^^^ 
 
 
 
 iM'* 
 
 
 
W- 
 
 'f:^- 
 
 r'î'i^'î FI 
 
 2,50 
 
 :^ 
 
 JOHN WABD, PREACHEB. 
 
 [■ 
 
 " Oh, I shall net along very well/'said Helëu pheerily " I 
 hâve no doubt there jl be a letter for me from lhn< at the 
 
 mented''"-^''^^^ ^""^^ """ ^^^ ^""^ ^"^ Lockhaven," Lois com.- 
 " Oh, yes it will," answered Helen, with a ripple of iov in 
 don'f know Lois r P"'^ «^*^°^''' ^^ ^^^««t laughter. " You 
 Lois smilfed drearily ; she was sitting^pn the steps. her arma, 
 crossed hstlessly on her knees, and Keyes fixed in an abs^ 
 gazé on the garden. 
 
 hZ f^T'^ ^^î'" P^^" continued, arranging her tmvelingi 
 bag and some books on tha^osite seat of the carriage. "I 
 - shall just hâve timetoSaA»od-bytohim" ^ 
 
 " That is what I came for," Giiford said, as he toôk her 
 hami a moment. " I will bring Lois safely to you in a fort- 
 
 Mrs. Baie waé on the porch, and Sally and Jean stood 
 
 smiling m the doorway ;so, followed by hearty goodrbys and 
 
 .blessmgs,with her hands full of flowers, and V èunsWne 
 
 Sdë.!^S<!^ar "'•'''"''"' througper^n^wn 
 
 th^et^^rS^ied.'"'-^"^"' ^"' ^^"^ ^fë^' ^- 
 
 " So you're oft?" he said, resting hia hand on Ë^ 
 door, and looking at her with a pleasant smile. " YW^m 
 made me thmk of the starling in the Bastile ? ' I can't al 
 out, says the starling—' I can't get ont.' Well, l'm glad you 
 want to get out, my ' dear. My regards to your hSsband.'» 
 He stood watGhmg the carriage whirl down the road, with« 
 shade of envy on his face. ^ 
 
 hafi'.lnfl'i^'V ^^^ ^^"'' ^°^ .*^^ little group on the porch 
 had scattered. Lois rose to go into the house, but Gitford 
 begged her to wait. 
 
 -«Jw'!> r^'' "vrJi ^"-j-gQ^ J^r emonstrated ; "i t ha« 
 Twhiie^'"'''' "^ Me WhTte. Do corne Into the g^^J 
 
 " She does look badly," saidTMrs. Dale frqm the-top of the 
 steps, cpntemplatmg her nièce britically. " I déclare it puts 
 
 ■s/ 
 
 
 St'-' i-Jî,"j 
 
 
i" 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEH. 
 
 ^ «tV#f "' .. 
 
 251 
 
 mé^out of ail patienGe with her. to see her fretthig i,i this 
 friS ?*i^ ^^ experiencin- that curioua indignation at a 
 
 i-eality her heart was veiy tender towards hèr nièce " Sh» 
 misses the Forsyte," mÂ. Dale continued " Shel been «a 
 occupted withArabellaFoif -' ' " . .^ne s oeen ^o 
 as if ahe had nothing to do. 
 
 Thère was no laçk of 
 not escape Gifford's éye 
 
 t 
 
 iuuil^ the accident, she feeld 
 |is's face now, which- did 
 
 said Mrs. 
 ;o a child. 
 
 Dale coax» 
 I don't be-. 
 
 "Go now, atid waïk wiL 
 mgly, as though she were spt,^,ij. to a cniia 
 
 Lois shook her head, withoùt looking at him 
 lieve I will, if you don't mind." • -, 
 
 But Mrs. Dale w£îs,aiot satisfied. '^Oh, yes^you'd better 
 «o. youVe neglectecl the ilowers dreactfull ^ i S W 
 
 tC^vlly'' '" "^'^ ^^"' '^^'^^ .^"^ ^^^^ -^ fresh roses'a 
 
 "l'U get the "^tden scissors/' Giffbrd pleaded • "itwon't 
 take long just to% some roses." » ^ ' ^ '^''"* 
 
 •'Well/MoiftsttÔl^nguidly; * ^ 
 
 fï, K w'^f ^ ^^^''"S^ the* wide cool hall for the shears and 
 
 tory as well as his own liome. Mrs. Dale had foUowed him. 
 ''''î^'^' «hac ov^ l^ack hall she gave him a-^Int lo^t 
 
 onfh^nni 7 niust^say, it does not show mifch considerâS 
 on the part of the young man to leaVe her at such a time --1 
 don t care what the business is that call^ him' awav • Still I 
 can't say that i'm surpsed. I «ever did like that Dick and 
 I hâve always been afkid Lois would caie for him " 
 
 " ri; ,i^i^\^ ^?^ misfortune," Gifford said gravely. 
 Uh, well, I don t know." demurred Mrs. Dale. " It is a» 
 exceUent match ; and his carelessness now-well, it is o^ 
 m D e e xo ected from^^a ^ young-map-whô Wo uld'Mëy h& 
 
 "mnth^^Àwp «'^,," juuiig uittu wno wouia"Mrry Bis 
 
 mother off from— from our care. to be looked after J)y a hired 
 nurse. He thought." said Mrs. DaJe; hridling her head W 
 
 pumng up her lips nhat a lot of ' fus^yXw^n C,d^ 
 ..take caie of her. St 11. it will h^ « ^r.L «,„_?r!_ *.!.'' 
 
 t^o • ^^ 
 
 H0^ 
 
 Im bound U) say that, though I hâve never liked him ^ 
 
^.,\ 
 
 <"J 
 
252 
 
 > '; ^'■;A■:■c?'^''■l:.T;!3i'.,■"■■l 
 
 . JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 ;; How I miss Helen .•» she said at last. ' • 
 
 desperate désire tofind somethin. in \Zch shtwtldr- " 
 terestecl. he sa di " Vm, ,«,,^4. ^ *vuicii sne woulcl be m- 
 
 rm s«^ they are J^e " ""' ^^" f"*^"^' ^^'^ °'»'=''- 
 
 "Myfriends?" " 
 
 .''ni!'' *^^ Forsythe-ahd his mother." 
 
 . rtiscovered her^lTet 'and"h't" "^'^^ T'^ "^^'^ "^e had 
 •■ Oh, of cours? yoTtuhaffï»r" '° ^^? her conoeal it. 
 Forsythe ?" ^ ' "**' '''"'"«« "'" ^e good for Mrs. 
 
 . n.in'i of r voTJé' '" ■"'^ "-"'■ '^"^ '--"-g - 'he ear- 
 bunX';',„'5k-t1rX '■■L^^ Y^ Wder to a staeely 
 
 «f îhisown mo4es ""' ''"^ '^ ^"""^ "^^ "»°*ngs 
 
 he «0 abrnd"."^'' '""^ '" ^ 1"'* ""^««"''«^ way- " Does 
 Giiford teit " "^ 
 
 -.. — « iti< ,; mil excit Pjpflnt ^ Tl't giinni-inn ...;fi,,-,.i • _ ./ 
 
 I—I b^leve 80. I «ugjosed you knew it." . ^ 
 
 i -.■^*4*i-î,i«àyiii.ia.*-^ X* .^ 1- 
 
 J;;.U 
 
 -1 
 
JOHN WARD, PREACHEB, 
 
 
 Jne tomme, Giftord admitted. 
 
 . knowrbo„rhirSe"'""''""^' ■' ^-.'■ei.' seing ; Idon't 
 *-oppà>ghe.ro.s, she ^^:^^^- «"-nd then, 
 
 .ao.„e,'A.'Zt h;s;'2ratf :fd r -^ ^' ■- •'''>«' - » 
 w:£i.;^l»s;,;:^i^ti;r ^«^- » .™te ^ 
 
 Don t, ' he said tenderly " don 't— Lois f" 
 
 Lois seemed to liste„ ^ '''*'"^ ""^>" ""«•" , 
 
 spokeJ,eZ/a'„e,S?Tii:rrwh-"H'r' ""'^ --' - "« 
 iug Dick Forsythe baek to A»i, . J ''^ '"f '""' h™self bring- 
 
 looking at her anxiousl ■■ tliâ^nT"'"''? '" ''^ '^'"" P» 
 would be a Bhock to hei; that vo. ° ,T!J^J""" ^ _^^it 
 
 the/u co„,e a,ul te 1 «„ aHatoutf'^I '?'' ^f'' «? course 
 ablytheyhadtheirownre^Ô^lnn'f?':" *'l''>',>'<' i P™"^" 
 
 .e,t AShu.,-y„..,. ..eauri:;ha^Ln„r„"i,i,^^-„ ^^i 
 
 
 
 
 11 
 
 •J 
 
 'i 
 
 'k 
 
 ,hn ■ 
 
 •- l.*»!*** u - J. * • 
 
 ,/.i, 
 
 .M-' 
 
.1254 
 
 JOHN WAKD, PREACHER. 
 
 ^ible doubt, that Mr. Fdrlythe, at least, will corne back heie 
 to niake any arrangements that there mav be about his bouse 
 you know. <. "«oc, 
 
 This last was a very lame reàsoii, and Gifford felt it, for the 
 
 house had beeu closed and the rent paid, and there was noth- 
 
 ing more to do ; but he must say something to comfort her 
 
 . Lois had quite regained her composure ; even the old hone- 
 
 ' iess look had returned. ^ 
 
 " Ibegyoor pardon," she said. " I am very— foolish. I 
 dont know vvhy I am so weak-I-I am still anxious about 
 Mrs. Forsythe, you know; the- long journey for her"— 
 
 «Of course," he assured her. "I know how it startled 
 
 J'JIX, 
 
 . ^^heturneatogointo the house, and Gifford followed her 
 hrst pickmg up the uegleeted roses at her feet 
 
 lous/-'^'' ''"^ ^"'''' what.you think of me," she said, tremu- 
 
 jji" I only think you are not very strong," he anWered ten- 
 derly, yet keeping his eyés from her averted face ; he felt that 
 he had seen more tlian he had a right to, already. His first 
 thoAght was to protect her from herself ; she must not think 
 she had betrayed lierself, and fancy that Gifford had guessed 
 her engagement. He still hoped that, for the sake of their 
 old friendship, she would freely choose to tell him. But niost 
 of ail, she should not feel that she had shown despairincr love * 
 fora man who neglectedand slighted her, and that her^com- 
 panion pitied hei-. He even refused to let his thought turn to it 
 ^rou must not mmd me. Lois. I quite understand— the 
 suddenness of heanng even the m ost— indiffèrent thincr is 
 enough to upset one when one is so tired out with nursînff 
 and ail that. Don't mnd me." ^' 
 
 1 'i^^" ':'^ T ^T^' ^iffoï-d." she said, with a sudden shy 
 look front under her wet lashes, and a little lightenina of her 
 iieavy eyes. ° 
 
 It was at least a j(jy to feel that he could comfort her even 
 though it eut his own heart to do so, and the pain of it 'made 
 iiim silent for a f«jv minutes. 
 
 WhenJhey_ha(Lreached the Iteps, T,ois'3 face had scttled 
 
 into it» white apathy, which . was almost despair 
 1 11 go in, Giff," she said. "I am so tired." 
 " WoD't you fix the roses ?" he asked. 
 
 'I think 
 
 ii^,i t.ii' 
 
 .f,Xs 
 

 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 255 
 
 Then he carried it into the hal ' and w T/"" °^^^^,°^«"er. 
 
 W 
 
 V- 
 
 ( 
 
 •t* 
 
 
 ■.ï*j,iè 
 
 ■M 
 
 K-: 
 
 
 " JE 
 
 ■■•1, 
 
 •■■''• #1 
 
 ■ «1 
 
 '' l'>llj 
 
 '^M 
 
 CHAPTER. XX VI. '^ ' ' 
 
 IT grew quîte chilly towards dusR which a« vp n. xr 
 
 and dfd nTobTect SmiH s^ftC^? °"'r l^i** ''''°'«'- 
 after Lois had gone w^rily uilLs to '""^ 
 
 swa^dt'ÏL'tinttodT'.'T^f'^''''"''""- "-' -d 
 hn^rdc.wUlcg.eT"'...^'^..-"''-^''''''' .''Sl'"'^^ ^h" we.fhor 
 
 t.^t. and go s.eepin;"d:rro:;rabr?„'rgS: 
 
 L-y 'l * KI,A* ft 
 
 ^i#*^ 
 
rfT 
 
 HNWAHD, PBEACHER. 
 
 la^not lighted hislamp; the faint, stiU light 
 es in the row of sllver candlesticks oh the tair 
 ail he wanted until he begau to read. He'was 
 .^..^ 40 that later. A church journal, with an accounf 
 
 I)ut now he was content to sit and think. He niude a mos- 
 
 ror over the mantel, wherfe the candies shone back like stars 
 m a pool at night, A white nbth had found its way into the 
 
 S?w?rT'^^ *^^^^-^" thecaUes, is 
 
 litt^e white ghost following it in the glass. The rector 
 
 iTttu ^'rl'^ • ^^^" ^ ^^^^Shts were tranqui and 
 Z hfrpfcn ' ^' r' '^>^^"^ indiffèrent both to the bishop 
 and his rebellions clergyman. Therç was a cup of muUed 
 
 Z' ZrH ^^ '\^l^'' ^'^'' ^^d the fire sp^utt re™ 
 it vfith !f ■ ^''' vvith his nose between his paws, watched 
 HowP^ f Ti ^^''- ^^' ^^"^" ^'""Se of nielancholy in Dr! 
 tioTw tlffp "l' ''''''^T' r'^' ^ ^^^^^ «^ q^i^t satisf,c- ^ 
 luddrlL f/' P'I-^^P'' "^^^^' ^^«^^^ ^" ^^ded charm tohis 
 Mr ifennp1^''"V'ï^r- .>' ^^^' ^' ^^^ been thinking of 
 him o^Zt' K '^ '^u^ distressing day when he had tdd 
 
 m?r 1 ^P '^;'"S death,-that was too painful for such an 
 hour, he meant to meet it later,-but of the sad 'vacaucy tbe 
 little gentleman had left. <tu vacducy ils 
 
 Perhaps the coysciousness of the thought'from which he 
 
 Cto^v "f>h"" h' '/? -i"d >?:Helen, and We aïl wl satis! 
 lactory. ihere had been.iïo discussion, none of the theolocri- 
 cal argument that her letters had given hrhi eau e to dreJd 
 whichhadmade him feel a quiver in th^t solid rock of^us- 
 œnfr. Hp rif^"'"^"'^ earthquake had once shaken to its 
 centre. He felt m a vague way that his nièce was not quite 
 
 di.l"nnï T' ^T' u'^' "^'^ '^''^ '''' ^ subtile reserve wS 
 h love Z/ 'i; ^«rds or any check in the expression o 
 analvze if t 7^^. ""^^ '""'^'°?y ^^^'^- ^et he did not 
 ^.nnl i f^^ ■"^^^^'^ .^? ^g^^^^ ^ ^^^<^ perha^s she feared 
 
 ^spook ^ wte WH« sfr real to her,-Bëcàusf she knew he^hadT 
 
 tha'th'is mn.T'- ""> ^'"' "^"^' ^^^« P^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ 
 that/thismust inevitably create a distance between them 
 
 ?*«*«-■ i 
 
 

 rt, still light 
 s oh the tair 
 id. He'was 
 
 an accouut 
 nd his Low- 
 
 the " Three 
 de his knëe, 
 lUde a pj'os- 
 1, dark mir- 
 : like stars 
 my into the 
 candies, its 
 The rector 
 anqqil and 
 
 the bishop 
 
 of laulled 
 ittered ^ai^d 
 s, watched 
 holy in Drl 
 ît satisf^ic- 
 larm tohis 
 hiuking of 
 e had told 
 3r such an 
 Eicaucy the 
 
 which he 
 was satis- 
 î theolpgi- 
 to dread 
 ck of cus- 
 .ken to its 
 not quite 
 ve. which 
 ression of 
 le did not 
 ihe feared 
 
 crosse.1 his leîvg aoain on f 1.^ f ï thoughtfully, and %n 
 
 tl."%^H;!retf U.^ïi.^Ê ''m ^"^;^n-r^^^on with 
 ^;on.l. ,.^ 
 
 vvould hâve been ver ]o el A f ^^^ W on the vvhole it 
 was just as vvel ^ "'^^^^^ It 
 
 say that with a (fnn.i .4; ^ '."«^i^Lti, ne nad beuu heard to 
 
 ^-^!!ï^î:^}fi^^^^Z 
 
 ■June.stoi-rn he rememhfcrp,]^^ "^i ' . ^^ ^'^^ ^^^ ^orsb 
 
 -thehaUhgh5tîr-^Lg«S^^^ 
 
 Helïs'Xst-r' '^^'^'^^^^ ^ shnll,sprea.n,'Ts Miss 
 Theface sh ^saw was^ giiost- like» ind^Pr^. 
 
 streaniifi^i' with- 
 seeiiig. 
 
 IL 
 
 waa wet^an é^ 
 
 Tain, andlhè dark eyes were strange and 
 
 f ■;>:•«! 
 
 sfâî 
 
 
 V:^^' 
 
 ■-^' 
 
 w he had 
 iderstood 
 a them 
 
 un» 
 
 "I>o not tojl Miss i, 
 
 "Whe.r4TJ.7i*;r3erJ^^'' "^^ P«'« «P-aid 
 
 'tir 
 
 2^^.j^i<i •5ffl''V,.,Afv<ÏSi6l'». 
 
 -(», 
 
 
 # 
 
258 
 
 JOHN WARDj^ PIîEACHER. 
 
 loc 
 
 Ï8 01 
 
 w 
 
 »\ 
 
 H 
 
 V 
 
 FiîF 
 
 MIr couM «nly poinÊ^speechlessJy to tlie lil 
 
 moment Êefore she||,nteik, aiicl theii, shejjpenei 
 closed it agam be^ùurher, afanding «leStly iCon 
 fi; '■ H?we.loolAd ^ cajoly, exâ<!«A<; t*«e Sali 
 ^-e sight m that stili figure, %M, ey-^&ich S ât 
 
 Hgtiit of actual ^fn^ht. , » Jîçlen l ". lejta soiàmm to>?§ 
 
 she a«&\xered, titter%^iie^-'l|^â^ 
 ^rpûtices ini very sicl ^persori^ 
 
 , iight tJie lamp, bijtjliis liaud 
 rr ■ .i.-j't^adied the ahade imtit he raised 
 
 me terri^ V\hy, how wet.you are!" He had kid hi<, 
 
 ^t|n c^Wiaoe ? Lut why are you hère ? Did you mis| your 
 
 , .^^H as. he spoke.-before'she silently^hook her head' h^ 
 ^jw^he wouldhave been bad, by noo/had JZl^^a'^ - 
 
 '^ Max had coji* and s'iiifled suspiciously at her skiits before ^ 
 
 ment on h ? 'î ^' .^T'^' ''^^« ^^^ ^^^^' ^^^kI rest a^':. 
 ft^ uncle to take otfher cloak. and im her Clet ton 
 
 cl^X to t i^îortr ''''' '''' ''' handkerchief, ^tried 
 
 r.aiy^l'f 'It^^ matter,.iny dear?" the rèctor was 
 nervously. Is anythmg wrong with Mr. ,Ward ? 
 had bad news ? TeU n^ my darling ; you c 
 _yQiir sil e nce.'! '^^ oij""/ 
 
 r^ 
 
 Helen's throat seemàpil^, and she moved he 
 twice before the ,Words came. " î- hâve corne h 
 
 tiààH^it'i^i 
 
 ■^»l' 
 
 '- V 
 

 ae,- 
 
 JOIM WAUn, riJEACHER. 
 
 -A 
 
 
 359 
 
 !^o hâve corne l,ack. . I a,a«iiy &e5^' " "'"" '*"' J"''»- 
 
 s "r «f^l"™«l vofce, '■■„; lear v^ "^^^ ''«"■'" '« 
 feWi Jean_ru send for irtel"^' '^^""^-y™ «■■« very ill. . m 
 
 "■l'I tell me, the r wh"? :.""' "' "'<' '"'<' thouRht/ "C 
 *-. .et ,„e ^et /oi;' a^^L-'ofii';;?," ^■" "<' ""* • ''or st^Z ' 
 
 with the silver coC'cL™ f ab:.,ri? 'i"f "'"^ ^" ''^''^^: 
 glass, and I.eM it £„ her L and L*f , "■= «"^-^ 'hé 
 lier as she .Irank, his lower 1 in ih^l'^ '"'^'' "'"^ l°*ed at 
 
 ~le'l^^^^^^^^^^^ .Thank ' 
 
 ^ a»i tired. ' -^— ^ "^^'^t go iip-stairs now. 
 
 , *,>*ed at h.. en.reatin,ly. ..korno..-ol, not t. ■• 
 ,„:«„, Helen, „e said. ■< I ean'tbe kept In 3„sp»3e. ,o„ ' 
 
 Çf- Howe, n<jâmEjrM^ tell you- she said, while • 
 
 ^kirt o, h^.d,,^î;,|4;^™»^F^Bhmg his glasses o^he 
 her foreheal. * " ■"'*7" "^«^ '>er hand aoroSs. ' 
 
 Arohie/' she added piteousiv % ^"«^atâ again,, uucie 
 
 . < 
 
 V 
 
 ■1 
 . ■ »1 
 
 ■^r't,. 
 
 :f 
 
 ^. 
 

 260 
 
 , ,JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 
 what s ail this ? JVfîTWarcl says my nièce is not to rëturn to 
 ner husbaiid ! Oh, corne, now, coine !" * ? ^, 
 
 '•' Need we say àny thing more to-night ?'' Heîâ saïd "I_ 
 I cannot talk." 
 
 Nothing could hâve shown Dr. Howe's affection .for hi'^ 
 niece more tYmhj the way in wJiich he said, looking at her 
 m silence for a-rfioment, "My child, vou shall do'^iist what 
 you please. Corne up-stairs now. andf ffo to bed. It will be a 
 mercy if you're not laid iip with a cbld to-morrow Would 
 you rather not see Lois ? Well, then, Jean shall corne arid 
 make you comfortable." 
 
 . ^"^I^^-ITowe «^ufflingover the bare stairs, and funiino- ^ 
 to hiiïfself. - What's ail . this ! Nonsence, I 'say, perfect 
 nonsense. could not fail to^arouse Lois,- and she called out 
 drowsily, " Cxood-night, fathér, dear. Is anytliing the 
 matter ?" , ^ ., j r, •^ 
 
 "pNothing,— nothing !"^ cried' tiie rector testily. "Go to 
 »ÇV ,^'^^^^' ïï^len, take my àrm, and let me help you." 
 " Helen !" Lois exclaimed, wide awake, and sferintring from 
 her bed to rush to her cousin. "What is it, she gasi^ as 
 she caught sight of the group. .. / ' 
 
 " Nothing, I tell you," said the rector. "Go to bed at 
 
 once ;. you'll take coid." 
 
 But Helen, seein^ the distressed face, put her hand.l^n 
 
 Lois s shoulders, arfd pushed her gently back into her room 
 1 had to com3 back, Lois," §hç said. " I wdll tell you why 
 to-morrow. I am too^'tired, nçw. Doii't speak to rtô, please! 
 uear. ' ji \ ; 
 
 • 7^S^^^^°^ ^^^^^ huiTied dowit the entry to find Jeai» who^ 
 mdee^ needed no rousing, for Sallk- had told her who had 
 corne. " Let me know when Miss Helen .is comfortable " he 
 said. «. ' 
 
 And when thé old woman,' awed by Hden's still, whlte 
 tace^, toid him his neice was în bed, he came up again, hoIdiW-. 
 the décanter by the throat, and begging her to take anotheî 
 glassot wine. But she only tur ned her head -a way arid askèd /' 
 -tor W nW She woûTd not say auything morê; and dïf 
 not seem to hear his assurances that it would be " ail ri^^ht in 
 the morning," and that " she must not worry " ' ^ 
 
 L ■*, _L i 
 
 
 (.i 
 
 y] 
 
j.^^-;-^.7; *,■«-;. -v;,,^r.- 
 
 3s my souI, 
 o iëturn to 
 
 jaul. "I— 
 
 ion .for h if? 
 king at lier 
 ^jnst what 
 [t will be a 
 V. Would 
 corne aiid 
 
 nd fumino- . 
 ly, perfect 
 called ont 
 tliing the 
 
 "Go to 
 ) you." 
 iging froiu 
 Kieped, as 
 
 to bed at 
 
 baiid.'^on 
 ber rooni. 
 you why, 
 "jé, please, 
 
 Feaii^, wlio^^ 
 wbo had 
 table," be 
 
 \ 
 \ 
 
 ill, wbiie 
 :, boldi% 
 3 another 
 rid askgd ^' 
 
 JOHN ^V4LED, PEEACHEli. 
 
 
 261 V 
 
 eelf Ihat r^ eve,f i,, tins" "^Tl" 'if ■'""- 
 
 ■ aud ajong branch of honeysuckle wLiched froL >! , u-' 
 able to greet her vèry tranqiiUy ^ ' ^^ "^^^ 
 
 th»TemIl|,,S^' '"•'?"'' "P> ''"<' '"^d t» «Fly. But 
 iii^ wereali glad'when it was over, and the rpntnr r>.,f i,;. 
 
 am^ntly over Ms niece's shoulder;, and dA "he^M' the 
 
 V 
 
 t 
 
 é 
 
 '■'Ht:- 
 
 
■^m-' 
 
 262 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 «^^ 
 
 id,_"yo«1iad bettei just 
 •«t Soing j^sterday, ahd haa 
 
 ' If any one corne 
 
 say Heleîi changedj 
 
 corne back-for a feisaysr: ~ " ^ n 
 
 ■. " Now. :ny 1^" r^.onsSed^ ^A^^ ^° «t-' " 
 
 in th^ library, Ld hé h^ KL^2^i#^" r^>' ^^'^'"^ 
 
 «nwise. Thèse IittleaÔairsl^]?l^^*'^?^''^^»^a"rverr 
 
 -' Pleared up„ .?„d they are ev' fol ^^"'""l^^^^'^'^dinol^are soon 
 
 mterestedmi'hem/CrtsideS^^^ '^^^ peo^^most 
 
 ta^ b^^::^^^ other aide of his writin.. 
 
 ed 8teac% across at him '"'"^ '" ^'' ^"^ "^^^ «he look- 
 
 - -^«-5:^'Ci^^^^ Thereis.o 
 
 thinks it best tJiat.I should Lr t ^"^ •>'°" ^^«^ "i^ht : he 
 
 •féeling as he does, he i^ Ih? y^,''V"^^«^- .^«^ I am sure, 
 
 I>r. I%,e threw fei«se"i bLl- Yes John is right." 
 spunhapvayroiJt^He^^^^ I"s revolving chair, and 
 n^ust talklili a sensible wota"; Yonk^' " "^'^^ ^olly\ y^ , 
 your husband. I supnose vnn^o /&t ."^ •>'"" ^^nnot leave 
 the world thnt i^ Sie7 wÔ'^^' ^^\' ^i ^^^ rest o? 
 ^ow, being yourrg, ypu ^k yo^^^^^^ /^"^ out ; and 
 
 Bless my soid, child. yoiiibn^S,7f f ^T'"' *^^"sense î 
 and al as silly as th s, rWe^h^ui ^"^ r "'""' ^^ <^hem, 
 -not take the public into o r Infi^ ?"^ ^ ^/«"^e -we did 
 woiiW Iive,^part I sLd^^'^''''" ^y^^^laring^at vve- 
 
 iNott tell me ail about it " Jie en 
 
 ^trust ^e, and ru Write your 1^ 
 <i^ke tlirrrgs cleai- " 
 
 ,--^v. """^ë» H'^aj-, 
 
 Helen slsSpt !«»,. head Wrify' " 
 
 Lued. .YQji„îcno\V yoû ^^ 
 ajetter which will' 
 
 f 
 
 w^ere tirfed." ^ S * ^^' "'^^'^ ^^ 
 
 tt will not understand 
 fîxed as-death. W e ngn 
 
 uiïTThave tried and" 
 yeems as if my soui 
 
 l»!f I <.'■ 
 
 n,' 
 
 *^v 
 
 ■ti» ' 
 
 '** V'fi»ft-^t'i~^ 
 
 Jftiî. 
 
'M^ 
 
 JOHN WARD. PREACHER. 
 
 "I di(l not intend to be severe mv rhil,! " ,u 
 with remorseful gentleness "h,!; ?n^ ' ^^^ ^''^^^^^ «^id, 
 
 nous thing than you reaHzê 1 Vn^^^' ''''^ '^ '' ^ ""^'^ '^* 
 
 two. Eut w^do nnf\ ; i ^^ «^/^ightened out in a dav or 
 
 hère at alî, IflrVat/s" ilf S' ?^"** ^^^ ^-^ K 
 ^'onrse. if you say anythinrabi h ' ^''f ^ «^^^"8^ ; anf of 
 
 *old me what it is ?" ^^- ^"^you haven't 
 
 the burden of life as well as I ca*» . ^ ^""«^t<'^ke up 
 
 ' J^o on, said the rector 
 
 . '-kkgli^at'ltîhlt'jf"''''^'' latcly," Helc, b.ga„, 
 » was white aoroi the Cckles^^^^^ °/'r "»«1 'h« &ia 
 
 iiica|uIousIy. •' Soine wp»u 7 , -, . ^"^ H<»^lâ.l<'okecI 
 
 to beliSiàs I dH V 1 ^"r"'* °f """"''^ who micd,t corne 
 
 negleeting me% Ms hS ^""foï^ZT"'"'' '"'"' '- 
 not preached as he usécl tn t,!. ', ■ ^"' '" 'P^'''^ "'«. had ' 
 most killed him un" e" st s^id a^ïTl P""'''.'"»-"'- It al- 
 
 foilure in 1ns love that I dùl nJ [ r ''''' ' *"^ '»« fa"lt,' 
 tnie." • ' ' ""' "<* "«"leve what he holds toi^ 
 
 the"ntS^ Surv^r"*- <'-''?'-'-•>■. " herea^ ? la .^ 
 
 sessioned,_dealt€ th;thev7alUt 7T'^ ^î" ^ *'"'"' •>« 
 l»ck to that ; but i£ tl at were hù , " "'"" ' '«' ""-' <=<"a9 
 
 «lis unbelief of mine wilf bri„„ ii?"'^ "'^™ ^ he feels that 
 and hewould couvert m \f™»™ "'^^ '». '«y soûl, 
 
 he Ws (for oh. we ha^v:"SSi^reXtua 
 
 •■i: 
 
"W 
 
 264 
 
 ii; ïï 
 
 ■î ' ^ 
 
 ïi'W-, 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 'W' 
 
 " * 
 
 Archîe !),— argument, praver Iova f..» i ' 
 
 sorrow." ^ P'^ijer, love, teiulerness, and now— 
 
 The roctor was sittiiurvei-v «îtrn,-„>.« ; u- . . 
 
 anger, vvhile hSstruaTd for '.n ! ^T' compressée! with 
 
 ous story throu-^h "" ^'^^'""'^ ^° ^^«^r this preposter- 
 
 H a ,na. bel":tUt^ ^^Z '^:Z^T'll'''^ 
 "niess sl^e accepts certain LotL t T f , ^"'" "" eternity 
 n^ove l.efiven and ear[h tô tllT^ ^ '^""'? '^'""^ ^e vvoald 
 does belleve that. t'ie^n'^r "oE^^^^ 'T ^'"1 ''^^'" 
 
 Jpfc^untiJUe".::/!^.!^^' ^^^^"-^-me ba4 
 
 doesnot believetre co 1 W ^''"V^","^ ^ecause she 
 preaclied to foreed him to ,in if i ,1 ^ ^^'^ '^^^ots he 
 
 house.and he could preach h . ^ ïî'"^ him a meetinj.- 
 
 I^ody who was foolenSl^l^ Z^^^^"^"^^ ^^ -?' 
 
 .icSat^::r:i^S"^fe^ 
 
 itîrcedupon him^' But the relr ^^^^^^^^^ which his convictions 
 %titnde worthy of serionJ oTj T ''^'^ '° think Mr. Ward's 
 
 «anerhecried^ '.Se^dhi'w^^^^^^^ "'^^^' "^^" i« in- 
 
 -into a certain belieff MaLTs 7.'^^°^ ^^''^ ^« ^^'^^ ^er 
 
 " I cannot llear you ^eak l'T '^ ^?' '"^^"««« ^" 
 very quietly, but t^aused Dr TT^ ""f ^'"'^""^ '" ^elen said 
 
 iionsense won't las^ "^ " ^ ^'^^ ^^' ^^°' ^e said. " This 
 
 tAkflZ' !Z^^£^'.^^ -^i-^ts to show 
 says himselff then vou willS., . ^""^ '■?^^ ^^^ ^^at he 
 
 Bah , cned Dr. Howe, and certafnly it was ti^ing t^ hâve 
 
 lg.'^<^fc^yy«.cj L »^s^^ 
 
), and novv — 
 
 I 
 
 ail-, his pluiiip 
 Qpreased with 
 his preposter- 
 
 lat I imiy he 
 iiythiilg e]se. 
 rail eteniity 
 ink he wouhl 
 And John 
 ly révélation, 
 alvation de- 
 t corne back 
 
 nant remon- 
 hecau.se she 
 " the (laik 
 e idiots he 
 "1 ; let hini 
 a nieetin»»-- 
 
 ■ o 
 
 'iiie to any- 
 
 '■ rooni, ges- 
 iovved hiiu. 
 
 husband's 
 3onvictions 
 ^r. Ward's 
 aan is in- 
 5 force her 
 ess !" 
 îelen said 
 
 wrath. 
 i "This 
 
 s to show 
 what he 
 ►w reàl ît " 
 
 g tB hâve 
 
 JOHN WAHD, PKEACHElî. 265 
 
 Hfelen attempt to excuse such follv " IVp nn .• 
 -■ There, there! J duhA Z2\ / ^^ "'^ Patience with 
 ^ess n^ysoul. tins is the «^ ^"•^^"'>^ ^«'«Per. but 
 
 Helen. if the nmn is so dSeiin in^r "^"^iJ^r^- «^e hère, 
 yourviews, or -o bark tn ?î'''-^'''" " '>'^^'e to chancre 
 
 J^-now wl.at^..„l,Seve '7/' ^VT' '"^^^"'~I ^^ft 
 Helen was unfoS tT V ^" ^'^^^'^ À» about it." 
 
 }-r uncle with'f fl t^/s^ ^ ^^< [^^"^^ «^'^ ^.-^-^ "? at 
 
 ; I can go back ? Do you thh k 'f ^ J \f '"^' ''^^^' ?i ^^at 
 
 ' you think rcould?^Whv ^d^^^^V^^^^^^^ ^^ 
 
 \ pternal damnation ? T ^uiTvn. ""' '}'' ^'^" ^^^^^^ "» 
 
 ^V'«"ces of sin at eternaV' ^^'^ '^^' '^"'^* 
 
 ^"^^S;'^,:^^ ";;^ -'-t the prayer n.eans," she 
 ^■t- . Well. iî t my prfva^ f iJlt;:?^^^ interprétation upon 
 
 y?eld, and while I acknowl^'it iVal mV'''' ^^f « ^'^ 
 give in." '"-"'^^ ^t 16 ail folly, you *nmst 
 
 * You niean," she qnirl "fV.„<^ t 
 lehange a belief? Y^l know I "^"'^ ''^ ^^^'^^^ ^'^^ ^'«" 
 ^vhen you hear what Jo n saTs .'ou ^^^^^^^ ""^^V^^^'"^* ^^^ 
 310 matter where truth leads mé'' '"" ^ "'"'^ '^^ ^r»^' 
 
 -dt^!;rshr^rtiSf r^f ^^ ^-•^- «^^ ^-^ 
 
 clismissed the cairia.'e it waT l M ' '''^°^' ^"^^ ^^en she 
 
 Lockhaven,and br^îld^ ^ thif coUTo/'" ^ '^'^"«^ ^^^ 
 and claiming her ricrht tn , '"'^^^^^^eb of unreason away, 
 
 «We. But a^s she sa? i , the llfe^^' "' ^'' ^"«b^'^^ï'^ 
 of the letter began to burn U^u^:^^^'^"""' ^'^^'"^ sentence 
 
 th^people. coming and foîTLl^^J'''^^ £^y P^««ed, and 
 
 and asked her f she were iKd 1 if .''^^''. ^'^^^^ ^^«^^ "P 
 stared at ïier like a pJrson n? i "^'^ '^^ ^^^^P h«^'? Helea 
 
 ïhen, in a numb sorH W she br^ "^^ '^'^^ ^'^ ^'^^' 
 _ 01 way, she began to underataiid that 
 
 '•€ 
 
 U W LArf, 
 
 
te 
 
 

 Ni 
 
 T'"' 
 
 Il ' '^ 
 
 9 
 
 fis ' 
 
 
 "206 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 «s envelope again and «ad ^ ■*" "'^ '''"'''■ '""^ 
 
 as ti;:,^i;^ri^iv?:,d'i:if ui;™:,""' '"^^p «^ '-- = ■' -- 
 
 too sac,?d to read ttiDr h!1 i "f . '" " "<"""'• I» se«med 
 
 afeo,iust to her-for HeVn^h'a^i^ «nderstood ; and it was 
 whiçl. could be iu« ("u'èlf ivif? ,1* "°"= ''«^al'hy soûls 
 clear aud logica Maternant f fK.i,''' '"'"''■ '"«' "«M» 
 
 this, there was a i™. f'took Xh'l "'''"'''""S''^' ^'«^«^^ 
 AU tl.cse she handed w her „nck '"'''"' '" '''°'i ''"• ' 
 
 go back to hin,. ■ He té Is ZtS'T "^ *''."''""'' ^ -=»■> <'y^' 
 wliere tl,e clders t"dS thev wkhlî f'f ■'«»»' '''^ -Session. 
 
 -fore ti,.„, aud of afX vL^tm ïlr ,1"" "^''^^^ 
 epoke to von, insistin.r .i,,t r..i , "/î^- 'Jean, ot whom I 
 
 Hy to hi^ ehnrcra d-: f '."'" n d o "Tr '''"*l'^'^ "' >>'' 
 
 ofyonru„4lief In In 1 h.' * ' T'"*" .'^ ^''' "'at tlie sin 
 
 .spiritual death.strS?, «J-\, r:,,';^;'!''' thc-clnu-ch, «mil 
 toour danger. HoW finVr ' ' f» f '" ^"*''<"' '■''!'^«'' '" 
 I arrayed myselr w t th ,„ ? •„ ""^ *"'■'' " •«." «^ though : 
 
 olmrch,with having;. :hedSe to îh'P'*'',^ '"" "' '>"» ' 
 
 eternal death await " urenented si., ^t?' "/ m"""'* ""« * 
 had d ed in his sin« nnt i „ ■ . f^' ■ "^^y '«'«l me Davis- 
 
 When théy insisfe,! t ni vn 1? ™' ^ ^'""' " ■» ail tn* I „ 
 soûl to a saving kno>vled^e if thrS/L'irîer Sl^u' 
 
 
 'i^. 
 
;."i^ 
 
 > !'"' ,' 
 
 ce that it liad 
 ed, Imlf blind 
 ne, sometimes - 
 le letter from 
 
 pain ; it was 
 • It seêiaed , 
 •Tohn thaC'it. 
 ; and it was 
 lealthy soiils 
 had conie a 
 îroba'tion, to- 
 giï ; besides 
 to sen4 her. / 
 
 ■ but, evëii a^ 
 ? T cg;n eyer; 
 bis Session, 
 i sunimotl«d 
 
 of whoui I 
 hless in hïs 
 ' he writes, 
 avint»; been 
 Jiat the siu 
 n insidiions 
 lïch, ufîtiî 
 
 roitsed lis 
 
 Yet itis 
 me, thèse 
 ife of the 
 there wfjs 
 •innjjf thafc 
 me Prtvis 
 tôfore hii^ 
 ail trq)p ! 
 le r j ) f j i fae 
 
 
 ■■!»■ 
 
 JOHN WARI), PREACHER.^ 
 
 ■ «v ' < 
 
 207: 
 
 to silence for the sake of otherg I wnnT.i . t- 
 ^elt my right was -réater tbnn Ih l ""'^ ^''^^"- «ère I . 
 own soûl. °I told them r w^M f ' ^"^^ ^'^^" ^''^ ^^^J my ' 
 vvould but drive vouTuithrï! """' Permit it ; I klm^y iUr 
 sinned i,i thisithou^ rï^narp^^ I cannqt fehink I ' 
 
 salvatioii for you fet 1 S'"?^' "eglected a. means of 
 
 ^•ouldnotputyour slli,r{L""S'"^^''^^^^^^^ to that,-^I ■ ^ 
 f I hâve need, Lyk^^^S"^ ^^'- ^ ^^^^^rust myself 
 ininiortal peacê, ami ci] Id .> w i^ ^^W»««s mo.è than your • 
 
 instead, whici.''wm cr ,^ .p^ttal?^^ 7""^^ ' ^^-- • 
 savfe y^ir.soul. And I hâve Sto Vr'^'^ ''^ ^"' '^^«^^"^^?' ' 
 proraiséâ of God fail not W- ^''^■^'^^ '^ ^i^^- The 
 
 ,-v/^ ... •■:.... ;. ..: . ;::,^ t 
 
 w^^'S^if 'J::^iz}T ■ '""^^""^^' "^^^^-- two ■ 
 
 Umve shVunk bacC rc ^d tlnï TT'^f "^ T'^y ""''^^ 
 t"P, and in the'der.M. V» ^ ^^oiild npt drink of the^ 
 
 ,4^ii^firotthVbê sUCd w1? ^^^l^t r.h,^ ^^ ^j . ^^^^j ^1, 
 teiMandwllich-rinv^^ we were , . 
 
 heaVe% vision. ' R^ ,ï ' T, f .,^ "'" ,"^.V '^'M'''^^'^^' '^' t'»^* " 
 
 JSa^^e Vftnr orti.l A-. j .1 ".°. 
 
 «terBaUrlritififi ;/ \ -u ' ^""^ you j 
 
 'bien can' 
 
 «wek 
 
 4"d yhat sorroir 
 
 'I 
 11 
 
 S-^.. 
 
 ^,y^3 f^M^? m:'^ 
 
 
 ejr niight - 
 ^eït ^QUT 
 bind ^u 
 
 * 
 
 ■/âSî 
 
 'i' 
 
 
 iW"^'. 
 
 f' .« 
 
 '•••'> 
 
 > ■ 
 
 ■%. 
 
 *ii 
 
 
268 
 
 At 
 
 JOHN WARD, PKEACIIEK. 
 
 , whicli will 1,0 to ,ne b.f he If '^^"^-V'^" ^™^^>- '^'^in pain, 
 
 ^^eal you of vvhat vvouU oTenv l h T'^''?' ''^'^'^' '^'^all 
 ^sl Write lam filW wifh ? '''^^^^'^^"''^ '^«ath^ Eveu 
 
 novv it sJiall be soon. ïhe Lordt 1. . i ''• ^^^ he moh,~l 
 ïj\iny love, ,ny wife htï ni I " f^ ^'^ 
 
 ^^««hyof'll^lSt^.^;;^;^^^ to me who am.all un- 
 
 «tnnchn. it all,-tlL biXr iistre s t 7 i "f ?'^"" •""^^- 
 anJ the iiécesSitv which folio vsTv ''^' couvictiou. 
 
 tation was to fly witli von on ^^" '*'^ '^^^^'^ <^h« ^empta- 
 
 could not i„,ure any one and T' ^^'^'S^^''^^'^ ^'O"'' '"'l^elief 
 salvatioH ,leivin,. thèse Ch wh IV"'^' "V^ ^^'^^^ ^'' >'«"^' 
 «oottheu,Iusal1owStoXftI^^>'' ^ ^''^^'^^r' «f you and 
 «tandihat, believin, (o^ 1 „o W "'' î T' V" ^"^ ""•'^^- 
 «aivatio,Mlepem^s upon . â\- 'r / ^^' '^*'"' ^^"owino, tliat 
 . no choice buï to forcée yo^^ b^t / nS"? ^^' ^"^^^^' ^ ^-- 
 Wu8 knowledoe makes me irou-^ S f r ''"''' >"'"'■ ^'^»i- 
 
 Jake this absence aiî^use L bi f '"' '""'^""^ "P^" /«"• 
 ■^ortruth. TakeitsanlfsVto^^^^^^^ ^^ «earch 
 
 the Spirit of God. Ami 4he^, H i> ^"' ^^^^^^' P»"^)^ ^'-•■ 
 thought of that joy seem .^o ' , t 1 '''^'''~^'^' ^«ve, the 
 throne of God : \ ^hall not wiCtl T "'''^i '''^''' ^^^« 
 grief iii^che .solifcude of your own smd wl/""" ""'" x"'""^ ^^"« 
 corne u> break the silence wh^J? ' , ^'^'^ *'''®" ^ 'i*re not 
 Write me any .ueSls! tt 17av ij^i^"^'. '' ^^^ 
 slimngs of the rtoly Spirit h. r t. ni ^ lieb^ae hrat faint 
 
 Helen had not read ;iJl .^f tu- i , ^ 
 
siike, you shull 
 uth. This pain, 
 for iny ^m, vvill 
 îiiitj which shall 
 ïl deiitJi. ' Eveil 
 •lod to save you. 
 lîill be sboiil — I 
 s not shmteiioi] 
 m oiie last way 
 our eyes. Yet, 
 
 for y()l|,__„ly 
 
 "'o 
 
 'lo uni. ail un- 
 i^ your iiiuler- 
 te Goiivictioii, 
 Lt the totnpta- 
 your uiibelief 
 pi'ay for your 
 • of you and 
 >u wilJ under- 
 iiowirio, tiiat 
 truth, I hâve 
 •^ your soûl. 
 ^ith «treiijirtJi 
 "^ upoii you. 
 'OU to searcli 
 M, pray fur 
 3h, love, the 
 t before the 
 ■1 laeet this 
 i I tiare not 
 ce' of God. 
 e first faint 
 
 JOïfK WARD, PKEACHER. 
 
 ' ~ ""• 269- 
 
 letter. The clo^iiH.. ,..^ i 
 
 too divine afeZt;i:::.^Lf/ ^"-n tenderness 
 crept about her lips for IVomlJt T T" ' ^ ^^^"t sniile - 
 ^bstress to rest upon l^-r n^Sl' ' ' 'f'"'^' «"^ «^ '^er 
 «J^ain to the présent ''"''^'^^"^ « l«ve, and then she woke- 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 l'e was yet 
 folded the 
 
 wa?a <.irrc:?e:;;t.;"^ :in''r '-'ir '^^'-'« ^«"-•; ther^ 
 
 thou,h with Hell;; '^,^r" e^u^-hieh -lored his woi'^ 
 to speak calniV. ^ "P""" ^"'^ ^^*^^ foiced hiniself 
 
 " ^'ou see he expeets y,.u to rP*^n,îK ti ■ • , 
 H séparation, is uonsense^ I o H h i I ' ''^? "^ ^''^"r^' «f 
 ^W the „„ly tl.ino- to do s to i n t' "! u^'" ^^'"'^^ P^^««- 
 «ay that y(,ur convictions ire i m.^ , l^ockhaven, and just 
 
 '..^fe n. «^-Perinienti„,rthis XuiT^'^l^r^^ 
 
 — ir Ls "— " ^"^'^ absurd way. Absurd ? Whv it i.s 
 
 ce.s,mon; " ancî to ^o back S ? \^'- «"^.^esCîon oî con- 
 
 but c«i y because.l,e tbiitks "L T.tH t" ^^^ '^^^ ^'^^re,- 
 ^'•oni Ood, and will lead rt to bi f ^'^u '' ^" i»«pirat ion ' 
 '«>t, und you knovv ir But T . ^1 ^ '^'•^^^««- ^t will 
 
 *io"t>t,Uir God to let ié co ni ff ," ^^"^^^ ^^«^ ^hat he was ^ 
 
 it can npr be changexl If " t t 'Tl".' ^ " ^^^ ^« «^'^d ; 
 c^3oin.hotwords. T^ r^ ^C^^-Hon^ t^^ 
 
 ''^ksksf.i^.-' I 
 
 * ^.' 
 
 ..««;*.'ï;à;:'''jj, ... i'.a,. s • ,. . ^, ^i. 
 
 V' 
 
 .'^-.^. 
 
 'V^'V 
 
 1 -v.. 
 
 I'' 
 
 .f ^> 
 
270 
 
 «A 
 
 K4" 
 
 If 
 il 
 
 # 
 
 JOxMl WARD, PltEACHEIÎ. 
 
 .SSk 
 
 .- |\ 
 
 ence, anyhovv ; that of course hedoP^t . "''''' ^° '^'^'''- 
 
 to drop tlie .^.bject. 4 reasone d? Il V^'"'""''^ ^^^■' ^'-^^'I 
 exFostulated and impbred ^.dïn ! ^^featened, then he 
 back, and ,at once." '''''"; ^"^""- -i» ^'^th, " You must.^iro 
 •Heleii had beeii .'^ilpirf i.„< i' . ' 
 
 it miist be kiiowii T j-liinl- " w^i " • . î 
 
 a» l.e,e. „„cl I «lu.ir.Way e e .o"t Ir'?'''"'' ''■'''°''^- "^ 
 
 , 4i'n;'':arr^ f;:,,;tve"/* ■•« -Ç^e ,0,., ,HeIe,.. r 
 
 this folly to I.I0VV ,'4 . -„"," *fcfr '"'I '("^^ » «eek for 
 , «xplanation." , , ' "'""»* «J'tet iiito any absurd 
 
 toow but what, l,e,. S hV^ ...'a? t '"r, '' ' ''""'^ 
 'lear. Yes, Fil tell Adèle." " ''^ °'""""'- J'»»! . My 
 
 " Heleii'a back a^ain '" «lio o..î . i 
 
 vv ui, j;r. Howe conceded « v»- t ^^^'t^n saia, 
 
 '^leiitioiiit to Lois-because " ^ '"PP'''^ >'*^» "^^ght 
 
 /^ toitSaS^ ^"^ '---'^^- -"3-thin, ..o.g ot John 
 .. Dr. H^we^stared: at her blankl,; bu. d^d not burst into 
 
 .',■: •• *• . ■■ ■ . ■■ J ^ ■ •"- ■■ ■ 
 
i was a hell, but 
 inade tio difïer- 
 eterjial damna- 
 nade Mr, Ward 
 ^tened, then he 
 ". Vou inust go 
 
 ed she said, so 
 "jt%. "Shall r 
 yoiv prefer to 
 
 u thinking of ? 
 
 ed calmly. <*' J 
 "me better to 
 
 3 at his nièce 
 
 hie," she said 
 
 I<1 ,HeIen. I 
 e the mafcter 
 ' a bout your 
 a week fui- 
 [J-.I, vvill not 
 any absurd 
 
 a. moment, ; 
 
 —ah^wel], 
 it I don't 
 •î"-you, my 
 
 ^aw hiijy. ^ 
 ten said. 
 y m might 
 
 ot John 
 burst into 
 
 " -tt-.''- ^ »"' dow,;. af le iw "'S ''J '"'» «ver her .las- ' 
 
 u .n oij plac es.. ^ - r -'^ " ^^" "latic ibr ^uc^^^^ . 
 
 <^nkin^ the ice ^ainst fche gta,s ^ ^ ^-^Plafcatic»,, by 
 
 
 ./.'li 
 ■ rJ 
 
 - -i''-. 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 *:JM«Î.,„ 
 
 .^^ 
 
fe 
 
 272 
 
 JOHN WARD. PKEACHEE. 
 
 -bout getti,!grcr „ l'r tsbatr Oh'^/h """' "" ""' "■"^■ 
 
 ,je did u„t 4cai*Te,.. "'" askëd .quickly, fô^ i,i3 
 
 "'Theii he told her the whole «tnfv t:.„ ' 
 
 lently, " We]l ! " and a-ain ' Well - If? .^ '' 'f^ ^'°- 
 -*£ia brushin.. tlie clinnf,t« !f ' ' ^^^^^^ H'''^ «''^ rose, 
 
 -"Archibald/- ^ '^""^ ^'^"^ ^^^>« o^'^r in tlie parlor, 
 
 The rector followed lier, misprnhlv tk i . , 
 
 cleur conscience, in tluit he In h!^ 7 n '''"?'' ^'^ '^«^^ '^^ 
 
 with the atn.ost .sevedtVan it H ''^ W "*'^'"^'^"« ^«"'^i^- 
 
 Helen retnrn to heriislnnd 1 ' .''"' '^l^, ^' "^"^^^ t^' "^^^ke 
 
 tut-n to au nnwilKn-'r hush.nH ^if ^''^""^'^"^ ^^^^ t^ re- 
 
 .hegroaned. ^' ^ """ '''''' '^^^ Wroves of Ward/' 
 
 ^ .. } .^^ y^i^y distressin,!;," he sai'l 
 
 JJistres8ini>;?" cricd \h-^ \h,).. ..t.- 
 
 ^^ ,,^^*'^ >'<^m' "iwo. to«) Adf>l» " l,n intprnm ' 
 
 »lrtV.V 
 
Mrs. Dale was 
 lier Hel^ii ilîtl 
 •es that mean ? 
 t' suppose she ' 
 {ut why didii't 
 itl ail this talk 
 oungwives, — ^ 
 
 iiéfely, forl^s 
 
 is a nïorti^t's 
 aie said Vio- 
 îiat she rose, 
 )k black silk 
 in the pailor, 
 
 l'i lie had a 
 iculous affair 
 ^idd to niake 
 
 lie ihouoht 
 [ can't help 
 
 every argu- 
 
 tt wife to re- 
 
 3 tliinks the 
 
 of Ward,'' 
 
 I ift'ivousl}- 
 
 5e thau di*- 
 lisgiareful ! 
 \) tuas ■' l 
 
 ise in vour 
 
 mud. Vou 
 * prolxibly 
 
 JOHX WAIÎD/PREACHEJJ « 
 
 eoi'l'.'" ^°" '''"»'°''" '^l'ei^ted Dr Hou-;. " i 
 . j. u tt , \ '' -neigh must <>» 
 
 .y," '"' "■«■" '"",ïi.t i„ io,-,. I,„„„r .!, I , "'• '"'".»■ vouno- 
 
 ;;;;; f;::q;:;:;-l";' ;-::::' ■^^■''-■-'^-«'..0../ 
 
 "»"«.^ take Jfelen buck ; MI <;,^^^'- ^^''^''^^' '^^"^1 tell hîni 
 
 -'!?'; f-'i ..-i.n.. ,„.t thtk " f Ar";;;;" /-;. ^-^and:!!: 
 
 . '>'M''>'I suppose l Jiavo n'i H. 7'^"'^«W •'" 
 
 Jij) heli.'f ' 
 
 lL'n-JJlU;^t ^ 
 
 
 :"• """""""' A'- M.. ■■ telief or. 
 
 ,^ood for me t 
 
 53 
 
 " see him, but 
 
 L.'fc- > , 
 
\l ' 
 
 / 
 
 274 
 
 JÔIfN WAIÎD, PIŒACHER 
 
 r 
 
 of course Ishall go. toLodXiavon unies. [ -W , L ,/ 
 answer to mv letfpr T hm.X<- i • "^'^'^ ^ «^t a favoraltle 
 
 imagine tha^anv talk of Zll^ '"" >:''^t«'''«3'- i*"' ,do y„u 
 HdeA. I suppôt pain 1 iïïo dÔS""/ "' "" "^'"^^ ^» 
 
 But Helen lias, beeu conKrme.l," saùl X n'i ■ 
 bew.WercJ way ; "wl.at move does l,é wanU'T ' ' '^ 
 
 ■ giveil" ""'"'"^•" "''*' «^'«t ot l>ain to the chiW or il,e 
 
 th.Gh„.chj«tu "lit;,:,,;;- """ ^^'P"^'»- "> 
 
 " 'Expérience a cliaii'Te (,n,p.n-f^''wnv,7 c • i- , 
 
 expressions i„ U?e " urc7 1 V ! ,' ' ,',''' "?" , ^î'^"'°'"'^"^f ' 
 lower-^lasses vou know I V k'iono^ig to the ( 
 
 in his inaanity l'il starfc for tIVi! ' "t'^ ^^ P^^'^^''^» 
 
 » ^ 
 
 
t a favoral)le 
 But .do you 
 ) move a inaii 
 his better to 
 ppose he doen 
 distress uii- 
 chanjre him/ 
 oie life." ^ 
 5. Dale, in a 
 
 i." cried her 
 ses the illus- 
 ure its leco- 
 child or ihe 
 
 Mrs. Dale: 
 pressions in 
 
 1 his lett^r.; 
 r said con- 
 but con- 
 as 1 
 
 io t'ai 
 
 svjçiti hell," 
 'lies it, aud 
 o see this 
 Co lîirn that 
 thodistical 
 ng to dDe's, 
 Jig to the 
 Ho expect 
 ii"d of his 
 Lit badly^'^ 
 >u so ?" 
 lelp him. 
 Jficitl side 
 jor to thn 
 
 persista 
 see 
 
 ight 
 
 i thoiHr ht [ j,^,j,. . ,, '' ^.*^'- J-'ale came in 
 
 ««mt, a,„l M,,, /.„,;t,,td"S "■"' '°"r '«'"^ '«^a éo 
 
 >' "piMions .)f.l,e,o„,, ; '"'"'«lis- Wlwt nee.i lias Helm, 
 
 iou see it i.s ^7P)fv K I ir ' 
 
 ■ ■■ ^' i«.-it is>^^ d^t \m""-^'" '"''1 *« '•«etor. / 
 
 ii"'lCT3t!ii,di„„ it 'ni , ■ ''"' *'' ""■« soai'^ cAmhh. , 
 t.'Cound." " '■ ""^ i'iace whe.eon we sSl f„ ?* 
 .. H- . ., . ""j ;raTO is holv 
 
 \: 
 
 -Henry, said his vvifti « Th . ' /• 
 
 'l'use John VUvd tt)"!"" " ''"'<^ «"'«<* «4 1)4 j;,,: „„, 
 
 WelJ ri V ' '^'^''■•«ie to the fa,n,k- ™V te' % to 
 
 ^«vcn. tjIfetT] 
 
 ■^ed tO'StK>vv him tw i, PJ'***^ gonrg-TÔ Xodç. 
 ■minatioh sh« .^.1.1^^ ^^ ««ekas : but as sh. 
 
 ^jave sparad jX ri^tLTdT'i\^PP««1 
 
 buttas shé 
 SheVjpuld 
 impossible 
 '^'she felt 
 
 
 
 
ts,- 
 
 w 
 
 ^ 
 
 m'. 
 
 . » 
 
 w. 
 
 ^4Jrt|),^PREACHER. 
 
 *. 
 
 ' - 'àf ''■ ' , 
 that her- faj^ffîy had a riohf k ■ -v - -— - 
 
 explanatiori, ând to iiiUkeln pf^L'T ' "P''" *'' personaP 
 duce her.husband b take her ' h ""'"'^'ï ^'"'•^^' ''« ^n- 
 
 . Helen had written, but 7^ Ij'l ^^^ ^'^^^' « lutter, 
 corne toLer. Slie understood Vôn T/ f"''^^'"^" ^«"1^^ 
 ^emle nature, which yiSdrea^^ '^^^'^^^ ^"^' 
 
 possessed of invineibirdeteriSL "''" things, and was 
 John conld change. xâ^TCl^T., '" ''^''^'' ^« ^^^I>« that 
 l^opelessnessas w'ell àtevl^t^^'T^^ '\^'^'^ «'^^'ed her 
 how impossible it was fonirto tTj i '"t ''^Z-"^' '^'^ ^^^^ ^»>'' 
 iiow fast and far she had driftef m;"', \ '^''^- ^^'^ «^'^^^ed 
 since she had left \ûm yet she hil. . ^^'^""'^ ^"^' "«Relief 
 to him could throw mw^id t n f l' '"^ ^'^^ "^ "" ^'^turn 
 understand it ail " s e hl! L A ^'^'''^ ^^""^^^ «J^»^'^>^v.s. " I 
 even vvhile she told im", oTf S/^^^P^Ï? '^ -"^^-^ hinl 
 ■,;'and oh, how yon must nffer n, r r'' ^'f P"^" ^"^^ ^ers. 
 
 ^ ^«tvveen hei^,rMK Tho distance 
 
 she could not «er^Lneath h s 1 -r *''"^ ''''^''^'^ ^ «"^ 
 a very genulne sympT^y ' ^'' ''^'^^^^^"" ^here wasieally 
 
 one t^1nS?.eî;^? !!:^ 1:^1^^^^ -^^ he. for 
 aud she knew her coufin lov^ed U '^',"7^'^^S^'f "«thing, 
 abie to understand, and Helen^^'onM ] ""' ^'""'^ ''''^ ^«en 
 
 pathy which wero notl inth Xn 1h '"' l-" V'"^' «^' «>'»^- 
 
 It MUS not until Th,ï Jav thnt ^ /' f ?' ^'''''^^^ 
 l'ad corne back. iW viere ^H -^'^^ '"^•' I^ois why she 
 Lois walking restlesslf about wi/l^ ?' ^^''^'^']^ «ittnig-roon,, 
 ^'" her face îhat its white sac h.pV. ^ ." i P"'"''^' ^^^^pectation ■ 
 len sat with her hands pLw? ' ?' ^^'"^'^ bapislied. He- 
 
 ^V^d glory oî the garderbutTerlir' f' /'Th ^^'^'^ '^'^ ^loon^ 
 shine, and the airvvas fùllo Th.T •^'^^ted throu^h tJ,e sui.- 
 Bntthe.ilence of the room L 1^'"^ ^^ tl.e bées. 
 
 7*«^œreFtWl^^ 
 J-selt and tried to tell 1- e<:ulin^hr i^:!^'!,;-!--;;^ 
 
w. w 
 
 •Wl^ 
 
 " a personaF 
 futile, 'to in- 
 / the .inean^ 
 ictoi's letter. 
 svver woiild 
 t svveet and 
 ngs, and was 
 
 to hope that 
 idshared Jier 
 sJie told hiin 
 
 ►She shovved 
 and uhbelief 
 hat u retiirn 
 hadows. " I 
 eonjfort him 
 lin and hers, 
 f^ cannot be 
 Lions. Per- ■ 
 caii only be 
 w." 
 
 bfe distance 
 ^lened ; and 
 ! wasieallv 
 
 >it ber, for 
 vino-thino, 
 ni not been 
 ïs of svni- 
 ieU. 
 
 îanxiety, 
 îd roused 
 ant : but 
 
 JOHX WAR,,. PREACHEU. 
 
 «venasshe talked ^he feh T " "''' 
 
 ..ra,st, Hs.„„ hrt , i^p;:!,''?^™^ «!«w coSi • 
 
 ,i„„„," '"'w homWe; O/,, Helen. SiZ „v?,;"J"'' 
 Lois did '" " • 
 
 ^^ How can vou henr ,> ? - ' t ^^" answered. 
 
 ^ois was sittino on f hp « • 
 
 -"• Tel 'a t/weil .^'.V^-V- --"'4 1 i;?^-'-cl 
 me he ou»ht tofhll v '" """*^ about tmth Tmf ?, "^ •>''"' 
 
 " But do^V™; ;" e •■ 7f ^''"•" "- " seems & 
 
 is alTiBr me." **"'^ only ofmi? ^m^ 
 
 I race wfts fli.ûi^j -_ ■.. ■'» 
 
 lat Lois .vomu imde] 
 "•^rW is alTiBr me:" 
 
 » 
 
 j '.'r ^^ «*" lor me." "-^ "^'"7 or me ? ■vv'h 
 
 Ver steadily a »„„.e„t. a„d then she said 
 
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 IMAGE EVALUATrON ' 
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 M 11.6 
 
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 Photographie 
 
 Sciences 
 Cûrporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N. Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 J"^<» 
 
w 
 
 
 278 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 patiently, "The motive is'^'hat makes criielty, Lois. Ancî 
 can't you see that it is only.because of his love that lie doe;^ 
 tins? If he loved me less he could not do it," 
 
 ♦' Heavens ! " Lois exclaimed, springjng to her feet, " I wish 
 he loved you less, then ! No, there is no use sayiiig thi^gs» 
 like that, Helen : he is nanow and bigoted,— He is a cruel 
 fanatic." She did not see that He^j^ji had hait risen from 
 her chair, and was watching her with gleaniing eyes." He 
 actually prides himself on being able to make you sutïer,— 
 yoaread me that yourself out of his letter. He's a bad man, 
 and l'm glad you've donc with him" — 
 
 Sbe would hâve said more, but Helen had followed her 
 swiftly across the room, and giasping her arni until the giri 
 cried ont with pain, she put her hand over those relentless 
 young lips. " Hush ! " she cried, in a terrible voice ; "" do not 
 dafè to speak so to me ! If l hear such words again I shall 
 leave this house. You may not be able to see my husband's 
 nobleness, but at least you can be siletit." 
 
 Lois pushed her hand away, and stared at her fii amaze- 
 ment. " l didn't mean to oftend you," she stammered. '' I 
 only meant that he" — 
 
 "Do n-ot speak of him!" Helen said passionately, her 
 breath still quick, and her face white to the lips. " I do not 
 wish to hear ;wJiat you meant ! ' Oh, Lois, Lois, 1 thought 
 that you "—she turned away and pressed her hands hard on 
 her eyes a moment; then she said, " I understand— I know 
 — your afiéetion for me prompted it — but I cannbt listen, 
 Lois, if you hâve such feelings about liim. I will take your 
 sympa thy forgranted after this. I do not want to talk about 
 it again." 
 
 Lois went silently out of the room, her heart overflowing 
 with love for her cousin, and added rage at the man who had 
 come betweeii tliem. She found Gifford walking about in 
 the hall down-stairs, and, for<:etful of her father's injunction, 
 she went quickly up to him, trembling with excitement, and 
 half sobbin 
 
 ^ 
 
 w Giff_oh, Giff— f hat~mahT"Ehaî "John WSKt, ha^ sen 
 Helen back ! She's hère — she can't p home ! " 
 GiÔbrd was too astounded to speak. 
 " Yes,". Lois cried, clinging to his ann, her eyes overiiow- 
 

 JOHN WARI), PRBACHER. 
 
 279 
 
 ois. And 
 at lie docs 
 
 t, " I wish 
 no- thift'ïS' 
 is a cruel 
 risen from 
 yes." He 
 sutfer,-rr 
 i bad mail, 
 
 Uowed her 
 il the giri 
 
 relentless 
 ; ; *" do not 
 lin I shall 
 
 liusband'R 
 
 fil aiiiaze- 
 lered. '' I 
 
 lately, her 
 " 1 do not 
 I thought 
 s hard on 
 I — I know 
 inbt listen, 
 take vour 
 talk a bout 
 
 iverflovving 
 n wlio had 
 l about in 
 injunction, 
 îment, and 
 
 iï^ 
 
 lTîi8^ sen 
 
 overliow- 
 
 Idj^, " he is a wicked man — he is cruel — and she thinks I ani, 
 Gifî", just because I said he *was !" 
 
 Lois's agitation drove him into his^most deliberate speech. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" I do not understand." 
 
 " Of course not ! Nobody could think of anything so 
 awful. Come into the library, and l'Il tell you. Father does • 
 not want it spoken of, GifforcL,' but since you know she's 
 hère, I ûiight as well explaip/'- 
 
 . The room was deserted, exoejJtïfapr^ax, whp was stretched, 
 on the bool hearthstones ; it was fn]^^, duskjj: shadows lurk- 
 ing in the wainscoted corners ; th^ôutside shntters were 
 bowe<), and bnly two thin streaks bf sunsliine travelled in 
 frofn the warin sweet gardcn uutside. Some roses in a bowl 
 on the table filled the air Witlrffagrance. 
 
 ,'. Lois hurried nervously throngh the story, breaking into 
 angry grief that John Ward should hâve made Helen angry 
 at her. For she had told Gittord how she had tried to console 
 her cousin. 
 
 " It makes me hâte John Ward more than ever !"" she said, 
 stViking her hands passionately together. '* Oh, Gift', isn't it 
 awful ?" 
 
 "Poor fellow !" said the young man, deeply moved, " poor 
 Ward ! It is worse for him than it is for Helen." - 
 
 " Oh, how can you say so?" she cried ; " but l'm sure I 
 hope it is't " 
 
 " He won't weaken,'' Gifford went on slowly. " He will 
 stand like a rock for what he believes is right, and he wîil be 
 more apt to believe it is right if it nearly'kills him." -i^. 
 
 " I wish it would ! And Helen, poor darling thihks he 
 loves her. What sort of love does he call this ?" 
 
 " Oh, it is love," Gîfïbrd answered ; " and I t^ll you, Lois, 
 it is- a height of love that is idéal, — it is the measure of 
 Waid's soûl." They were botli so much in earnest, thcre was 
 not the slightest self-consciousness 'in this talk of love, even 
 though Gifford added, " I never knew a man capable of such 
 ji evQ tion, a nd . there are fe w woinen like Helen whacauld in- 
 spire it." 
 
 " But, Giff','' Lois said, not caring to discuss John Ward's 
 character, " did you suppose anybody could be so narrow ? 
 Think how bigoted he is ! And nobody believes in hell now 
 as he does " 
 
 :i 
 
 t im 
 
 *ï 
 
 
 
ïf. l 
 
 
 !r'. 
 
 .b, 
 
 
 17 
 
 280 
 
 JOHN WARD, PBEACHER. 
 
 " T (lon't know about that, Lois," Giflbrd responded slovvly. 
 " Lots of people do, only they don't live up to tlieir belief. If 
 the people who say they believe in hell were in dead earnest,* 
 the world would hâve been converted long ago." 
 
 "He is a wicked man ! " Lois cried inconsequently, 
 ' But Gifford ahook bis head, " No, he is not; And more 
 than tbat, Lois, you ought to consider that this ■ belief of 
 Ward's, if it is erude, is the husk which has kept safe the 
 germ pf truth, — the conséquences pî sin are eternal. There 
 is no escape from character." :. , , 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered," " bat that is not theology, you 
 know: we don't put God into that." 
 
 "Heaven help us if we do not !"' the yonng man said rev- 
 ereutly. " It is ail God, Lois ; perhaps not God as John Ward 
 thinks of Him, asort of mag^ified man, for whom he has to 
 arrange a scheme of salvation, a kind of an'apology for the 
 Deity, but the povver and the désire for good in ourselves. 
 That seems to.me to be God. Sometiïnes I feel as though ail 
 our lives were a thought of the Eternal, which would bave nf{ 
 clear an expression as we would let it." 
 
 Lois had not followed bis words, and said iiiipatiently as he 
 finished, " Well, anyhow, he is cruel, and Helen should not 
 hâve felt as she did when'I said so." JÊÊ^ 
 
 Gifïbrd hesitated. "She could not help it, How«Bp slie 
 let you say it ?" » *^^ 
 
 "What !" cried Lois, "you think he's not cruel**' 
 
 "His will is not cruel," Gifford answered, "bub I meant^ — 
 I meant — she couldn't let you speak as yai^ did of John Ward, 
 to his wife." 
 
 Lois flung her head back. " You think t said too nmch ?'* 
 she asked. " You don't half sympathize with her, Gifford. I 
 didn't think you could be so hard." 
 
 " I raean it was not quite kind in you," he said slowly. 
 
 " I suppose you think it wasn't right ?" 
 
 " No, Lois, it was not right," he answered, with a troubled 
 face. 
 
 
 "Welï. Gîfîord," she said, her voice trembling ti îittle, " Vm 
 sorry. But it seems I never do do anything right. You — 
 you aee nothing but fauUs. Oh, they're there I" she^ cried 
 desperately. " Nobody knows that better than I do ; but I^ j 
 
 'v 
 
3d slovvly. 
 )elief. If 
 d earnesV 
 
 A.nd inoie 
 • belief of 
 i safe the 
 1 There 
 
 logy, you 
 
 said rev- 
 3hn Ward 
 le has to 
 Y for the 
 ourselves. 
 houjçh ail 
 d hâve a. -5 
 
 ntly as he 
 lould not 
 
 • 
 
 she 
 
 meant^ — 
 hu Ward, 
 
 \ 
 
 JOHN WAJÎD, PRBAOHER. 
 
 281 
 
 îiever thoughWjiy o^e would say that I did uot love Heleii"— 
 
 "I didn't say so, Lois," the young maa interrupted eagerly ; 
 *^only I felt as thougl^it wasn't fair for me to think you did 
 not do just do right, ând not tell you so." 
 
 " Oh, ©f course," llois said lightly, " but I don V think we 
 are*8o very friendlV that I can-claim such considération. You 
 . are always finding, fault™and — and about ^elen you misuu- 
 derstaud ; we cansay anything to each other. I am afraid I 
 exaggcrated her aiinoyance. She knew what I nieant,--she 
 said she did , sh0 — slie agreed with me, l've not a doubt !" 
 
 " I always seein to blunder," Gifibrd said, his face stingiug 
 from the eut abbut irieudship. " I never seem to know how 
 to tell* the truth without giving offense— but — but. Lois, you 
 know I think you are the^ best woman in the world." 
 
 " You have/a pretty ppor idea of women, then," she re- 
 sponded, a lu^p in lier throat making her voice unsteady, 
 " but l'm sure î don't care what you think. I hâve a rightto 
 say what I want to Helen." 
 
 She rail out olthe joom, for she would not.let Gifibrd sSti^ 
 her cry. " I don'rçare what he thinks !" she said, as she lied' 
 panting iiito the attîç, and** bolted the door as though she 
 feared he would foUov^ her. But then she began to remem- 
 ber that lie liad said sh& vvas the best woman in the world, 
 and to her dismay she fouud herself smiling a little. "What 
 a wretch I am !" she said sternly. « V Mr. Denner is dead, and 
 Helen is in such distress, and — and Dick Forsythe may cojiie 
 back ! How can 1 be pleased a^ anything ?" 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 ) much ?" 
 ^iff'ord. I 
 
 Dwly. 
 
 troubled 
 
 tle,'a*ïu ^ 
 
 You— 
 ihef cried 
 
 [0 ; but Jy ' 
 
 ,8)1 -, 
 
 M 
 
 •'f- 
 i'#i 
 
 .■il 
 
 k^^-.il 
 

 V , 
 
 28J , 
 
 r 
 
 JÔILV WARD, PREACHÈR. 
 
 ^.. 
 
 l 
 
 ■îi. > 
 
 CHAPTEK XXVIII. * 
 
 Of course it was soon known that Heleii Ward was at tlie- 
 rectory, but to the Misses Woodhouse, at least, lier présence 
 was not of pnough of importance to speculate or gossip about. 
 Gifford had merely said Helen had changed lier niind about 
 going, and would be in Ashurst a few days longer, and the 
 little ladies h^d such an absorbing interest of their own they 
 did not ask many questions. Mife Iluth only leniarked that " 
 she wondered how she could be satisfied to stay away frora, 
 her . husband so long,^ and' Miss Deborah replied that the'^H 
 young did not understand serions attachment, 
 
 To both sisters a vague ,hàppiness had conie in thèse last 
 few weeks, and a certain sensé of importance. Each felt it 
 for herself, but was unable to realize it for the other, yet con- 
 stautly encountered it with irritated astonishment, when the 
 désire to confide was strong. 
 
 Once Miss Ruth, tearfui with the niemory of that last louk 
 froniMr.Denner'sdyingeyes.tried to approach theslibject deli- 
 cately, but was met with such amazing certainty on the part 
 ot Miss Deborah, and a covert allusion to thé value of t^he 
 miniature, that she was ^leiic'ed. And agnin, — on Dr. Howe's 
 return from Lockhaven; — Miss Deborah's condescension in' 
 telling Miss Itutli slie ihight acçoinpany her to the graveyard 
 fell somewhat flat when she found that her ,sister had intended 
 going, and had even picked some flowers to put on Mr. 
 Denner's grave. However, they went together, a gentle 
 seriousness on each face, and an unusual silence. Their 
 parents were buried hère, so that it was not altogether sen- 
 timent wbich made- them sad. 
 
 A white, dusty road clinibed the hill which overlooked the" 
 -villag e en the^ast, and on^ its brow, fwcing^ the strarise, wftft^ 
 
 the little group bf Ashiirst's dead. 
 
 The blossoming grass grew long and tangled hère ; the gray 
 headstones slanted a little, or had even fallen, and^ some of 
 
JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 28» 
 
 r.r 
 
 rlooked tlie" 
 
 JTlTtSe, WîSpSr^ 
 
 tlie inscriptions vvore hicWen by moss. The place was mil of 
 sliadowy ^lence, only broken by the rustle of the leaves and 
 sniall biidcries, or, from down in the valley, the faint tinkle 
 of a cow-bell. Cypresses stpod dark against the blue sky) 
 swaying a little in the soft wind. and from the top of one .of 
 them flew suddeidy a brown hawk, |i& shadow floa^ing from 
 the green (lusk iindor the trees outofer tîie ^unny mifedow 
 below. •' 
 
 The two sisters \yent to the gravée of their father ând 
 mother first, and laid some fiowerfe on them, and stood a 
 moment, looking at them silently. Tlieir sigîis were rather a 
 re\erent récognition of an old grief than real sorrow, for it 
 ^vas many years ago that thèse two had been l^id hera^^the 
 simple soûls were too liappy to understaîid the pathos of a^ 
 forgotten grief, iiuleed, they''did not even know that they had 
 forgotten it. " - . " ' 
 
 As tliey turned away, Miss lluth said in a hushed voice, 
 " lit is ovpr by^ Dr.' Hôwe'.4 lot, sister. You can see it.under 
 that larch." So they went fipwards tiiis one new grave, step- 
 ping softly, and stopping by some faniiliar name to brush 
 away the grass that hid t^e inscription, or lay a blossom 
 against the stone.* They spoke ^cé'or twice of those..w;ho lay 
 there, calling them by their first Wn^s, yet with that curions 
 lowering of the voice whieh shows\with what disnitv death 
 has.invested what was once familia 
 
 They were silent as they laid the^r HoWers on the fresh 
 earth of Mr. Denner's grave, over wh^ch the kindly grass had 
 not yet thrown its veil ; and IMiss »l)(i^borah stopped to put a 
 single rose upon the sunken, niossy s^iot where, forty years' 
 belbre, the little sister iiad been laid tb rest. Both the little 
 ladies frf^nkly wiped their eyes, thoitgh with no thought 
 except for the old friendship which ba'A ended hère. They 
 would hâve turned to go then. but Mis?\ Deborah laid her 
 hand on Miss lîuth's arm. " Wiiy, sister," \she said, " who is 
 that by Mary Jeffrey 's grave ?" 
 
 Some one was lying upon tlie grass, lieLcheek 
 
 restinif- 
 
 ■ r? - 
 
 aigainst the small niarble cross at the head of the grave, and 
 one arm thrown around it. 
 
 " It raust be Helen !" answered Miss Ruth anxiously 
 " lîow imprudent !" 
 
 m 
 
 VffJ 
 
 7^ 
 
 
284 
 
 JOHN- WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 They weut towards the prostiate fij^ure,— there were no 
 Uivisions m the Ashurst burying.cp.ound,-aiKl Miss T^eborah 
 stooped and toufhed he^r on the shoulder, saying intt sWooked 
 voice, for Helen was shaken with sobs, " Why, my dear cMd, 
 what is the matter ?" • "^ ' "^ 
 
 Helen started violently, and then sat up, brushing the 
 tears away, and atmggling to speak calmly.' " I— I did not 
 Know any one was hère." 
 
 " Wé were just going," Miss Ruth replie^ in her kind little 
 voice, but we were grieved to see you troubled, my dear ?" 
 
 Miss Eiith coiild not help saying it in a questioning way. 
 tor in spite of Aëhurst tradiiions of parental love, it could 
 hardly be imagined that Helen wa^ crying for a mother she 
 nad never known. • .' 
 
 "You are very kind," Helen said, the tears stiU trembling 
 
 " Something did trouble me— and— and I came 
 
 in her eyes 
 hère." 
 
 The sisters spoke some gentle words of this youHg mother 
 aeaa now for more than twenty years, and then went softly 
 away, full of sympathy, yet fearing to iutrude, though wonder- 
 mg m their kind hearts what could be thé matter. But their 
 curiosity faded; Mr. Denner's grave was a mnch more im- 
 portant thing than Helen's unknown grief. 
 
 "I dare say she misses her hTisband ? " Miss Ruth 
 suggested. 
 
 But Miss Deborah thought that.quite improbable. " For 
 she could go home, you know, if that was the case " * 
 A|jd hère the sisters dropped the subject. 
 
 f.n ^-i^l^^"' ^^^ '*^" lingered in the silent graveyard. She 
 telt, with the unreasoning paesion of yoiith, that the dead 
 gave her more comfort than tlie living. Lois had scarcelv 
 
 t^AT^ T^\ ^■}'^'' '"'''^ *^^* *^^k i" their sitting-room, 
 and Dr. Howes silence was like a pall over the whole house. 
 
 tnl ^""^"'^ u^''^ ^. \^ f^°°«' ^"^ ^'y ^ f«^ncy what her 
 iiusband and her uncle had said to each other for Dr Howe 
 Jiad refused to enter into any détails of his visit 
 
 gis m^rviëw w± th her h usband had .oaly resulted-ift a- 
 g^ater bitterneâs on the part of the rector. He had waited 
 tor John Wards answer to his letter, and its clear statement 
 otthepreachers position,. and its assertion that his convie- 
 
 £^, 'îa-Mj>- 
 
John; ward, preacher. 
 
 285- 
 
 i more iiu- 
 
 % 
 
 could be accompl.shed without> a personal interview Dis^ 
 cussiou with a mail w!,o actualJy believed thatithis cruei and 
 ^ WT^^!'" 'V"'' ^^^«-'PP-^ted by Godlas a mZX 
 bT T^t^ '^V' r'^^^''^^"^' undignified\ but it had to 
 iSter ïo Helen'' ""^'^^^^^"^^^ ^« ^ ^anded ïier husband's- 
 
 no "tî^^lï'r f ^^''^J f "'"' ^^ propiiety ; appartjntly he has 
 
 Dr Howe gave an explosive groan, but he onlv said " Tell 
 Lois to pack my bag, m take the early train. ^ Oh Helen 
 
 vhy cant you be like other vvomen ? Why do you hâve to 
 thmk about behefs ? Your mother nev.r doubted thh'g ^ 
 
 vhy do you ? Isn't ,t en.ugh that older and vvis^- peo^le 
 thau you do not 4uestion the fa'ith ?" / ^^ 
 
 "IWl!? ^""'^ "'""l"^"^ '^î^ ^^"-^^ ^'^^ toa-ccompanyhim, 
 logether, we eau bvu.g the man to his sensés," he pleaded. 
 and he secretly thought that not even the hardn^ss and 
 heartlessneàs of John Ward could withstand the sÔnw 
 her face. But she refused to consider it. 
 
 " Hâve you no message for him ?" he asked 
 
 " No," she answered. 
 
 " Sha'nt I tell him liow you— miss. him, Helen?" « 
 
 John kiiows, and her uncle had to be content with that 
 Dr. Howe gi-ew mofe iatoleruut with^ach mile of his iour- 
 uey Every incident touched him with a personal annoyance 
 Ht the man he was going to see. The rattling, dingy cars ou 
 the brandi raiho.,d aiHicted him with an irrit^ted sensé of be- 
 mg modem ; éîe acti;ity about the shabby station jaried 
 upon his r^etitembrance of Ashurst's mellow quiet; the faces 
 of the men m the lumbor-yards, full of aggressive good- 
 uature. ofteiided lus ideas of dignity and reserve. A year 
 ;^^%^. Howe wouMhH VIT riTOu^^ âll ïKîs very ëntërtaîéngT 
 an(T^îïiiple, and natural. 2.^w, that a man who lived in such 
 a place amoiig such people, «hould hâve it in his power to 
 place the Howes in a conspic^ous and painful position was 
 
 M- 
 
 ■¥l 
 
 'm 
 'Mi 
 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 ^ 
 
 feJ;V^kt'..iC ^J: m-nk *.a<^'*!- ikJ^ 
 
 ^Jru «fij 
 
 
■2H6 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACIIEIl. 
 
 wheu 
 quick 
 
 " cer- 
 
 
 lly the lime lie reached the parsonaj^e, to whicli au of- 
 ficions young person of wlioiii lie had iii(|uireil his way con- 
 (Jucted liini, lie had attained^a pitcli of aii^ry exciteinent 
 which drove sdl theologieal arÉinieiits ont of his inind. Al- 
 faretta greeted him with a blank stare, and theu a sudden 
 brighteniii" of lier face as he gave his naine. 
 
 " You're'lier nncle ''[ she eiied. " How is she ?"%fid 
 is she a^iuin' back ?* She ain't sick ?"— this with' 
 alarm. for ])r. Howe had not answeicd her qnestions. 
 
 "Xo, no my good wonian,'' he said inipatientlv, 
 taihly not. Where is your niaster ?" 
 
 " The preacbei-'s not lionïe," the giii answered coldlv. .„._ 
 was not used to be called "^^iiy good woman," if she did liye 
 out. " You can wait, if you want to ;" l)ut there, her anxiety 
 getting the better of resentmënt, she added, " Is she corain* 
 back sooii ?'' 
 
 " l'il wait;* said Dr. Howe, briefly, walkiiig past lier into 
 John Ward's study. . , . 
 
 '• Insufferable people !" he niuttered. He looked abont 
 him as he eutered the rooni, and the poverty of the book- 
 shelves did not escape his keen eyes, nor the open volume of 
 Jonathau Edwards on the writing-table. There was â vase 
 beside it, which held one dried and withered ros6 • but it is 
 <loubtful if the pathos of the flower which was to await Helen's 
 - return would bave softened him, even if he could hâve knowii 
 it. He stopped and glanced at the book, and then begàn to 
 read it, holding it close to his eyes, while, with his other hand 
 bèhind him, he grasped his bat and stick. 
 
 He read the frequently quoted passages from Edw^ards, that 
 God holds mau over hell as a inan might hoJd a spider or 
 some loathsome insect over the fire, with the satisfaction one 
 feels in detecting a proof of the vicions nature of au enemy. 
 "Ward is naturally cruel," he said to himself. " l've always 
 thoùght so. That speech of his about slavery showed it." 
 
 He put down the book with an emphasis which argued ill 
 
 for his opinion of a man who could study such words, and 
 
 begar^jto pace up and down the room like some caged âni- 
 
 =œal, and glancing once with a smothéred èjcclamation at the" 
 
 «Id leather-covered volume gave it a f urtive kick, as he passed. , 
 
 He was so occupied with his own thoughts, he did not see 
 
 Ik.ïi : Cik 
 
JOH.V WAHD, PIŒACHEIÎ 
 
 2.s'7 
 
 îst her into 
 
 •Jo n Ward coine up tlie ^iranien path aiul enter thepersonaoe' 
 uni when, a moment afterwards, tl.e preacher came intô X' 
 looni. J)r. Howe started al tlj. clian^^e in him. Thèse vvteeks 
 ^^f spin ua conflict had left tiir m^rk upon him. His eyS 
 Imd a stramed look vvluch was almost terror. and h s hrn, 
 î,'ent e hps were set in a line of silent and patient pain Yet 
 
 hiTLs pals "^'^ ""^"^ "^"" ''' '''■'' '^''^''' fox^anion^ent 
 Throiioh fear, and darkness, and grief, throiigh an extra- 
 T f ''^ ^"f OHcei.tion and strange blindness'of the sonl 
 
 cW iTro ] '^ '""n' '?!''' '"'"P^^^^ abnégation oî himself.' 
 close to God. Since that June night, when he met- the tenip- 
 tation which love for his uife held ont lo him, he hac^ei 
 ^vlth ail the passion' of his life to his love for God. The whofc ' 
 nigit. upon lis knees. he besonght God's niercy for Heleii 
 and tonght the w.ld désire of Hight, the longing\,o talce her 
 and go away, where her unbelief could noï injure any o^ 
 else, and Revote lus life to leading her to light, go J^JîZn 
 bis people, whom God had committed to hfin, mid whoin Te' 
 had betrayed, leave them, stained with the sin he had i.er 
 sonfln^ w^?'" ""^^^^ecl^-ed among them, rfnd give his very 
 to Helen, to save her. But the temptation was cou- 
 quered. When the faint, crystal brightness of the dawn iook "d 
 _ into hisstudy, it saw him still kneeling, hi^ face Jiidden ii 
 . ^;s amis, but silent and at peace. God had granted Ws 
 piaye^ he said to himself. He ha<l shown him the wav to'" 
 save Helén.Atfirsthe had shrunk from it, appalled, crj^iig " 
 oit, - Ihis is death. I cannot, I c^^iot ."' liut when a littlS 
 later, he went ont into the groMÉt glory of the dav «nrl 
 standing bareheaded, lifted hislje "to Men, L S'd " î 
 . loveher enough, thauk God,-thank God." Â'holy and awful 
 joy shone m his eyes. " God will do it," he said, with simple 
 conviction. '> He will saye, her, and niy lov^ shall be the 
 hiiman instrument. ' .^ 
 
 After that had come the (^ays when John had written those 
 miplormg letters to his wife, the last of which she had an 
 ^^^redjpith such entire décision, sayisg that there was s^ 
 possible hope that she could ever believe in what she calleH 
 a " moùstrous doctrine," and afiding sorrowfully that it w«« > 
 iiard even to believe in God,— a perspnal God, and she couM 
 
 'SI 
 
 i 
 
 .fi 
 
 il 
 J 
 
 I » I 
 
 rfi., *-Aho -»^ 
 
 
 * A- 
 
288 
 
 r-' ■ 
 
 jpnx WABD, PREACHER. 
 
 h'- 
 
 bo content to let' (làçtiines go, if 'only that light iipon the 
 darkness of the WprW could be left her.' ', 
 
 X Thèn lie ha«l Sent liis last letter. He. had -written .it upon 
 li^ knees, his eyen stiing with terrible tears ; but his hand. 
 did not falter;the letter was sent. Then he '^ited'for the 
 tlie nianil^estati'on of God in Hélen's soûl : he distrusted hini- 
 self aind .jîis o^vn strenj^th, but he neve^ douhted God ; he 
 never questioneH^that Ihiâ plan for converting his wife was 
 a direct aHSwer to^" bis prayers. 
 
 Xow, when he saw I)r. Howe; he had a moment .of breath- 
 Jess hope that her uncle liad corne to tell him that Helen had 
 Ibund the truth. lUit almost'before the unreasonablèness of 
 his idea stvuck him, he knew from Dr. Howe's face that èhe 
 time was not yet. <^ 
 
 " I am glad to see y ou," he said, a, little hurriedly ; the thin 
 ■hand hêextended was not qviite steâdy. ^ - J 
 
 The recfor's forehêad wds j^athered into a hea\'y frown; 
 " See hère," heanswered, planting his feeS^wide apart, and 
 still holding hfs bat an<l stick béhind. biinj " I cmmot givo ' 
 you my hand while you are ignorant of the sj)irit .in which I 
 corne." > 
 
 ';' You corne for Heleu's sake," Jghn replied. 
 - .." Yes, sir, I do corne for Helen's sake," returnedDr. Howe, 
 ■" but it is beeause of your conduct, because of the heartless- 
 way in which you bave treated my nièce. " You cannot ex- 
 pect me to.have a friendly feeling for the man who i§ cruel to 
 her." For the moment he forgot that this was to be a theo- . 
 logicaJ dispute. " Novv, sir, what explanation hâve yen to 
 give of this outrageoui^ afïair ?" _ 
 
 " Helen's soûl slfall be saved," Joïm said, his voice grow- 
 ing firmer, but losing none of his gentl^ness. ^ 
 
 ^ i)r.^H(l\ve made an, impatient ges^tirê. " Helen's soûl !" he 
 cried.^ " Is it possible that a sane man caii sèriously excusé 
 his conduct on such ^ ground ? Why, it is iucredible 1 How 
 do you siippose the world will regard your action ?" 
 
 •" What hâve you or I to do with -the world?" the other 
 answered. 
 
 ^^Wefeekhit,' said l^te Howe, ^«^nd if w — 
 
 we will not^vfôr d, mad \yhim, violate its standards of pro 
 priety. When a man furns his wife out of hisjiouse, he raust 
 
'> 
 
 wise men 
 
 U. 
 
 J(mS ,\VAKI>, FK'jîAXÎHÊrr. . 
 
 289 
 
 so,;:til,|;t;:' ^:nl;i" ::;n^ ^■''^^'■- ^'''^^f «^-- " ^ -v. Heien-s 
 
 . ^-l'iritnaleoMdilU,.,' ' •''^"'- /''^'^^ '^''^ <lu,tG satislie.Lwith' h«r 
 I . V '"^'^f:^'""^t. allair al once. If Jfel.n con es >ack 
 
 lonkl tPiii ' 
 
 'H 
 
 llie ,iee.i utiluilv i,,H„;„,,. -^ \- '■ ""'V.^' "''"I- ><"' ^voulcl sa 
 
 fnk yoii would see 
 vvoukl be or'th^'m;nu:r;dur'T J^'"^"'*' '*^ ^ cl<*-.y,aa!f 
 
 ;vith ,ue, but ^loir-t^;^' , J, :r^î,^^^.^ 7^ ^'-. i« 
 
 »nu- .luite the i,i.strnctfr^ yo, ll^^ùe ' ^ "'""^^'^^ 
 
 (>ii, t luid noL iK.ped fur that," John luswered- ' *' Rnf 
 111) grie.t, she must searcfi for iTutli " -^'''peiiLU D) 
 
 iiitei-Qsts" A'?" "f «""r going agamst your ow„ 
 
 • / ' "^ " .- ■ . 
 
 i. 
 
 ' ' Jf'l 
 
 •Ni 
 
 ^ 
 
 !f 
 
 i 
 
 .•A ll||l 
 
'^••■•;'""~- 'i '. y 
 
 ■'K 
 
 290 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 ' " it n? Cl ^ ^^ nK ?^'^ ^^ ^'^^ Ternpter," John said gently ; 
 
 £ coZ! ? ?^'^ï for guidante, and then refuse to follow wheti 
 
 IkP hp;« ^""^rl^ f^^ "'" ^^^^ «^^-^"gth and courage to 
 make her suffer that she may be saved ' 
 
 ^^ " Dr. Howe stared at him for a moment. Then he said 
 
 1—1 do not need you to teach me my duty as Christ's 
 
 rSwtj; '\ "^"^h' ^""-^ fittmgthat^yoush'ould concem 
 
 yourself wjth your duty as a Imsband." The vein in 'his 
 
 , t(5rehead^was swollen with wrath. "The way in which vô? 
 
 pnde yox,rself upon devisin. the most exquisite pain for y^r 
 
 ^ ^^^^^^t:i^'''^ And^oudr^her J.;^ 
 
 Jçiin was silent, - 
 
 heto?t?o'" "^'''^•^ ''f '"'^ thathemust controlhimself; if 
 
 to ll2 or^fv?" ^''T^^'h'^^^'' '^e 'said. " I didn't meau 
 
 about. Perhaps some flash oï niemory brought her face be- ' 
 fore his eyes. 'JS t down," he udded brusqu?ly,_'' you look 
 tired,' and ind|ed thepallor of John's face wa^s deadl^ 
 Itie rector m his, impatience, sat on the ed^e of his chair 
 
 eT„cferi'„"lT'"f T,'"" '"'"'•■ '"'^ «'-ther tml 
 cienctiea on the head ot lus cane. His arcmments an.l 
 
 entreaties were equ.lly divided, but he résolut" y 'hecked 
 
 the denunciations which tremble.] upon his lins John 
 
 answered him almost tenderly ; his owh grief ^^u^ not so 
 
 absorbing that he could be indiffèrent to the^langei of " iW 
 
 who set the opinion of the world before the soleinn obi gatSn^ 
 
 of his profession. Carefully, and fully, and very c,u etîy Te 
 
 explained his position in regard to his parish ; but wh n Dr 
 
 Howe urged that Helen miglu observe ail prôper forms and 
 
 yet keep silence on what was, after ail, a most immateria 
 
 .^^TaS'^'" ^•""•^^' '^ '-''^'^ '--"• Hère waHn oM 
 
 is dL You must. hav:i that tooVn^^ "^"""^ ""' 
 WeU, III tell you what to do," said the reCtor, in his 
 
 ■a-.-.V^ ^-tà 
 
 iàiCil ëâjJè'À'^ InV* 
 
 !.fwaî ■ «1 ^;i^ *m^P^^»ir!il0l'^ 
 
l'if, f 
 
 JOHN^VARD, PRMCHER,' 291 
 
 mffnence n yùiw i)iii«h nie ! ^® • ^^ y^^^ ^ear her 
 ready,M,-.far.,,":hrii:,' "' ''"^ ''^^'^'^ h"»- "S«PpW« 
 
 At last, weariecl and ljallfr.,1 n,- xx 
 lieavily for>va,,l on thé Hb ! i,i „ ""*%■■"=»• »« kaned 
 voh.me of .sermons, vl^h i f ' m, ?'r", ïï'", ''f "»« <"' "'• 
 
 ■■.I ».n to .n,.lo,.tau,l!fo », nièce Ihal'V)"' ''" '"■" ^'^'J-' 
 
 that her love, ,.r l'er ^ h ô, f "°*'^'' ' "^^ '^'"'ofhope 
 sca,HIa^ of ,1,; a,n "' „•," "f'' °' .■;'"• «'"ty, or the misérable ' 
 tion?" '"'" "'"™ .™ur cruel détermina- 
 
 Hifct;:::\v'::\,nshaSfr7' M ■'"" ^™ " '«"">!« .train 
 a pathctic desh- S t toal r'r»'!' ™« '««ing h?m 
 Mm " I love her too rauih?oc Ltê n""t''^'"'"^'?g «»'™d 
 rr i,:^..'" n,ore than humatS^^C^S îtr/»1,î 
 
 wi:h''m;^Xmr.;hSit^:rrn%"™''''''' ^'■^" ^•-' 
 
 such books as tliose," a,ul h" nointed ^ô II " '"'^ 7''° "^"d' 
 -■'a mau who dénies oo?ir^ ,ï'"' ™«' «f Edwards, 
 
 misérable conceptioo ,;?tio," th?^"'*'' "■'"''''"' '"' »«'„' , 
 faith is a .icmmciatio °L^I C;;^'„77j;;-y«ee »( w hose 
 
 ^^.ee with hi,„. Vou a.l^^f «ITTh^ltS 1?^ " 
 -. "Bo „„t ,or he saidf -iK^ch'-ï tuteo'"^ 
 
 I 
 
 '.'m 
 
 . '!:i| 
 
 m. 
 
 *■ ' 1H 
 
 ?i 
 
 
 it.kl^i^^ ji«i. «< 
 
 V, 
 
<)JJÏ1 
 
 292 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 y^Vm'rga" '"'""' "" '"'"" ''^^^ «■'"' '"^ ' I '«e ">»t 
 
 "Tne roof wich refuses to'shelter mv' nieee " aiiswpfr,) T),. 
 Howe, lus vo,ce shajdng with ange,, "'shall L te „tr my 
 
 no;Tr:i;'ariVv"e"ro i7> •"■"' ^^""■'•' "^■»« >"-' '-"•" 
 
 "Mustrcriedtherector. 
 T d Jp nn^i,'^ '' ^'*"'" ^"^^ ^"^ ^^'^^°' ^« it is mine to speak 
 
 c^nnot lîltPn 1 ^ ^^ ^PP'^^ ^° him-and keep silence. I 
 cannot listen when you urge Helen's temporal hapDines. 
 
 you^" "^o^^^^ welfare,aLl not T^^Z' 
 
 i chaire voTLTr '"^"^V^" *^'^^ ' y«" ^^^^' «^«e i" Zion. 
 
 are, tHat you examine your own soûl " ^ 
 
 Dr. Howe looked at him, his face crimson with art-er " Sir " 
 
 •'si "Tn^^^^^^^^^ ^-"^ from hL'arml 
 
 f>!l T '^"' ^°^ ^^^ ^^'^^^ tiine since Archibald Howe 
 took orders, an oath burst from his lips; he struck his st^d 
 madly agamst the table, and rushed from the roon. ^ 
 
 Altaretta was lymg in wait for him at the <^arden <Tate a 
 
 V'i'V ^ i -•■ ^iii. 
 
 h '^ • W 
 
JOHX WAIÎD, PREACHER. 
 
 293 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ,"0"^ She hïrS':^ ,;; 'l-^P-- >"'- for ,„o..e t„a„ aJ 
 
 but when she saw Dr HoÙ#JS" '" '.'*'' '"'<''« »' cousin • 
 
 carnage almost befo/it stopLd ' """« '"'"^^'f out of Ihe 
 I want to see vnn H„i„ " ?' . 
 
 < Arrr/lXWC'' r]^- "" "«;? ^-d ehe 
 
 «n«er :r:L "oitr h Tp'I.r ^.'•? J;''^' ^^i ''"^O 'he fo^ 
 hâve been insulted by him W. • ? *""" ">»' "an. I 
 "V^e him thM you shi I noTreta™!"!,'^"" "S ""<^ ''«"' »an 
 nght to interfère between hS^d^ ^""■ ./^°*- ^ haveno 
 toely free at any moment toM^ '"' ""'" ' y»» a™ en- 
 At the same tiL T™u j M ""r""''^'^ y»» ™ay wish 
 ™ore if yen do not return to hlm^"". 'Yr^ «hall respect you 
 otherthing: from this t"me %, „«m "■'' ^"""» '«^^ «ne 
 my présence." ' "'' ""■"« "« not to be spoken in 
 
 "I am sorry for you, nHafin» ^?,""«™P'*d her. 
 
 ^wonM hâve been for yonfmotS' P„? \/''\' .» '''»«' 'his 
 
 ■JJouble se deepiy, But WuTnn ^^ «"y 'amilr 
 
 .t bravely '^'your mSa"e tiS^ îh^T "' ^o" ■""«' ^ 
 
 nblem.stake.butwemnrKl^'''""' ''"'""' *as a ter- 
 
 ^ th.a final despair alSit»"^^^^- -«"«'s vi,i„ 
 
 ;^ 
 
 1^. _U4 ■„ u > JÎ! fe'..fA 1 „A ^.. 
 
 
m^f}>*.i"'^'.-'^:'^0 
 
 294 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEH. 
 
 Jl He thinks joii aiie -oing to chanoe your mind in a week 
 
 so cruel Ihere is too much method in his madness There ^ 
 I cannot speak of it ; let us di^p the subject. Your place L' 
 n^y heart is secure ; I trust you will never leave me but on 
 ^"^-OrSeî^/r^l Th • ^""r -'th asud'en tende" 
 
 ^"Forgive hini ?" she said, almost in a-vvhisper her beantî 
 fui eyes ddutiug and her lips white. " Oh, John how I bà 4' 
 wronged you if they think I bave anything to fo;c.ive -" 
 
 Dr Howe looked at her, and sôenied to swaHow a sob • 
 
 L"i5:;''''ît.':ri r^^ >^^^ ^-'^ '^^ -"- 
 
 snouider, Poorchild, he said, " poor child '" 
 
 " Yon nï'n 'f^TS^''^}'^^ part met no response from Heleu. 
 
 • do^'^o'tthi^ritTe''''^^^"' '''-'''' "-^--oplease 
 
 The rebuft- sent the rector Kack to his own resentment 
 
 Tlemember, I do not wish to speak of him again. HeTe I 
 
 hâve nothing more to say." ^ i^eien. i 
 
 j^^''\;!f'''''}^ ^'"^ .^^y ^^ore to Lois and Mrs. Dale than that 
 John Ward was inflexible, and he wished no further d se s 
 sion upon the subject; he also forbade any uroin^itHel^;' 
 should returu to her husband. ^ " ^ ^^"^^ 
 
 I •' ^u"' 'IV,^' bfother. what explanation shall we »[ye of her 
 being hère ?" asked Mrs. Dale anxiously " ' 
 
 thingbuuL'tnrtS'-'"^"'' ^-"«--dimpatiently; "any- 
 
 " oifLfr^'^^'^ •' ^^i« «i«ter cried. in a shocked tone. 
 Uh, ^,ell, you know what I mean," he said ; " niake some 
 
 irue but don t tell people our private affairs." 
 
 . Uo you thmk she'll ever go back to him ?" Mrs Dale in 
 qmred lookmg at him meditatively over her glasses. 
 
 inopenot! he answered savagely. "Nowston Arîpl^ 
 stop ! I will not discuss that man r ^ ^'' '^^1'' ^'^^^«> 
 
 "\\^did|ieaetJ^okMiM^ 
 -'^^supposeTt WàsTf^ra hei" father's side And the wholp 
 aflfair is so ill-bred ; one would know Helen was „ot aU ! 
 Howe. I always felt there was something laekin?fn Charles 
 
 B"»»* 
 
 
JOHK-WARD, PRÉACHER. 293 
 
 m^Zr "k'"'' XT ^""^ ""^'' »° infatuated. Yes I re- 
 IM ^^f'f 1™ """ ™**'' »' his can.e hère to viait u, I 
 
 Z / n,''''"' P'^P'"- '^he used to sit up strai^ht and A ' 
 a wav^^d IV. ""r*"^- ; "^™^ ^'^ her^Iean bauk! and I 
 cm nages! Soyou see, that's wKere Helen gets her-her'bàS 
 
 ^ lesI.rbaiSSh''"^'"" "•"-'" "^- Howe. *dki„g ,,t- 
 
 : ^:^^r^"^;- -"--^'^^^^^^^ 
 
 liÎ '^rf ». '"Sl^nl rt-eet\£ 
 SnTt.r"'^'^ '° ''?°^ how'si wa^I ' n ake excus^^ 
 
 .""te thou"hf.''",>'"f:!"'- ,"'■" j»^* «p^-^" to Gifl r„t 
 
 hou e hea™ h' aâd riff^"''' ?," ""^ ""^' ^"■'"«'l' ^ood- 
 advisemewhat'toILn W"" """^ l-^^ -"sible. and can 
 
 rJtlT ''"l,""" «'■'«■■'«'»". l"'t. as she said afterwanls i„ 
 rcliietant confidence to lier huibmd "fin- '"'""lus m 
 sensé aftprnll h. »i, "" ""^o^a, triB hasnt much 
 
 Sut ft^ " ^°"^''' " *"" '='''* "> J>«t W the trnth ' 
 
 y»: t"Sl;g,S!^- ""'^ ^ •'''■" -- I «ion'' Xnow what 
 
 " mf " ' mI" ' r> ^"^ ^"'"^ '° '*" ■ " "^"^«^ ''«f husband. 
 Uh. Mrs. Date answered. " Gifford will tM t. ! u 
 
 tlmig. She couldnt keep a secret to save her life. fijt . 
 
 r 
 
 
 «&' 
 
 '■in 
 ,î': 
 
 iÉlÇ-*'^5i^.'jîl*«sij, 
 
iti^-fV^^i^ff 
 
 296 
 
 JOHN WARD, PKEACHER. 
 
 it isn t roses " Miss Deborah remarked " ln.'f ,t i= i, ,. 
 than Huth-s turpentine. An.l so lonr»» I hâve" ot to it 1 , vl 
 
 1 can t jiet the eyes," Miss PLiifh siohoj '» t i 
 
 '■doYVZlo"r„tv:!:;l.f>' "ebo.h. wUh „,„ch di,„.y. . 
 "But you know you couldn't paiiit, dear Deborah " s«i,I 
 
 make g^seberry jelly, or even a tl rt" Tht seetl C 
 Know I had to put m a bag of straw to fill up when I oLZ 
 
 
 it'jï 1 
 
 ■;";•% ^ - '« ' 
 
 
 1 .£ 4't»|W .^ 
 
 '-'^Sii 
 
hr 
 
 iven save 
 
 JOHN WARD. PREACHER. , 297 
 
 "ot in sSod tasto, dear r" th " '"*' «""''Mas «re 
 
 aille to get the little ,idp A ^ " '""'' "'• ^ h*^''' ""t been 
 
 It ma le „o différé t ]SCk "Zt^J^' % 
 fîray and Snlln! trouble • ï„, . i , , , •f,'"'"*' ■" "V «"cre 
 
 coming hei^e r • **"'* '"s"- ««er said, ? Is Mv, Wa,-,1 
 
 te.lX''i^"m:n'LS'„Var'''^^" " ''"?«>■ ^ "--". ■"■ 
 
 parted." "*"'' """^'^ *' "i"' they could not I» 
 
 • onghiTo t7eZZ^^Z\^''r. V"^" "- ^^y 
 this is what comea of vn,.,ff i ^^ P^Wah sharply. " But ' - 
 
 should hâve rSed yelo Tr^^f ■?'?""'• ^ 1«'«" 
 marriage. Sueh tWn J S^ l matunty before thinking of 
 
 
 .j aZ^J î .^ 
 
 \- 
 
 
 11 
 
 
-v^ 
 
 2'JS 
 
 IsK 
 
 JOHN WARD. PKEACHER. 
 
 cepf their "rave disaTmv» f <•" T'''"?8 '"' ''«■•; >»" «- 
 
 i^C^"a«d'Ctt t^,fr''^.J\'J^■.''"^^^ «"W Miss JJobo- 
 «trenathr "^ ^'""^ "' ^"f"'""' "'« P"or thing needs 
 
 '- ™xn::f ror-tïL'i;: ''^.irV'" ■■•'"' p-' 
 
 was tolose a-L-fri^nrf h, i V, '"^ *?' 'f y»" kuew what it 
 -en if Hel <«" „„t see l'^n A,"^'.'"^' *^?-- ^""l '^ »'i™. 
 
 nage was never knnwn v. i ^^™i^y> ^n unhappy mar- 
 
 to a day afterthe Sw^ "^ W'^rveled, just three vveeks- 
 ^-raceful ?hin. a' Teavl^.fl "eyer thought of such a dis- 
 
 ask for monev • ?hn f «i? ? 1 T"?' .^"^^^^^^ ^^«° ^he had to 
 
 right fora vouna th^n^l^^ ; • ^ , '*^ ^'^ nofr seem just 
 
 affair. It gTe |[^r&wi''' '' \"T "^ «^^^ ^ P^^n^"! 
 ^ t,ave Miss l^eborali so much pleasure to sa/thisto. 
 
 
 *lijA- 
 
 ÉÉ^Wi^ 
 
Wff^? 
 
 
 •/ 
 
 )^0H\ A\rARr,^ PIJEACHER. 
 
 ■t'Wr' 
 
 \ 299' 
 
 or one wouid notice that tv4 * """''^'J slowly down 
 
 ■^as besmning to re<l<Ie„ 'r^ "''.ch covered ,ts 3o«tli.side 
 
 \ met Lois at'the kti; .^ e "sL"''2'"° te>„ler friend^ 
 village, and there was a look ?'l,« f »*f,"<»ning from the 
 
 ^y "o see,„3 t,. n,ake yon ve,y h^ppy, j^oj,; ^e 
 
 ;; It does " she cried,-'. very verv '" 
 to .ena'-he!.'}:;:"' "'*'"'^ ^■''-'■'" «»-> 't lu l,e.. heart 
 
 wl,IX^s"?ctct:t,'%#^-^^ 
 
 thoiight, asshe went on an I rim . *7'"' "«'«" !" r.ois- 
 wshed Forsythe ,vere"n;r':éfh;'o?"£' ""P'^'-""y- '- 
 
 looked at hiin m-atefullv hTt vT ^^^ '^^^' Helen." She 
 
 . ; Oh, I think yo« a e vLna ther?' h ^ ^"^«^- ^ ' 
 
 >s lonely, too." Helen seemed ?o eo^^' 'f^TT'''^' "^he 
 
 W^- ^ou kno^t has. " 
 
 8^^,i^)!^j', ■«'* 
 
 
■*, 
 
 300 
 
 JOHN^ WAUD, PJJEACIIER. 
 
 .""'cl G?ci r;"^' tn,:?' t';: ^^l'"?'"'!;'' ri »'^"'« "•- 
 
 "ot with John Cl luit A 'y'"m»y.os with me. an,l 
 
 . lus once carin-^ for HetnT^^l ,^J'',^^^^°^"^^^^*«aid of 
 
 ashamed of he?self for rpn^/. ? • ^'^' 't' °^*^^ ««"«« ^o be 
 
 ■ <'-omes even into an mnvn n" ""/ '^' ^"' ^ ^'^«^^S^^ which 
 
 withoutleavin^IsZre Sr '"rf i'" ^"^«" ^^W 
 ^^nd unconscious y J^^^^^^^^ P"^°^ ^^ T^ is subtilely 
 
 te Gifford, when L aicf '^^ .^^f "«^^ ^altogether cordial 
 
 suppose he harfoiootL^ S ""' '^.^^"^^^ "^ 
 
 ray promise ton vl ^^^^'^'""« »e ever said to mé. and 
 
 ■could not keeD thif h«r,„; u- , ^ J:^' *'^^" "lis memory 
 
 . «oticedit. "J"^'-""'' "hen she went. up-stairs, Helen 
 
 Helen misunderstoodhef ' '"" '"'"' ""* '>^<"' «'.-«"Ki 
 
 *appy, you know l'II be "lld " any*ing makes you 
 
 Lo.. twi.ted.her finger. together. with a „eW„.,s «.rt of 
 
 'iK«.w 
 
 
'lût her out 
 
 Site: t;2'.?' '•™'-'i."^W ; 'W ,.-„,..,,u,e „„, j„3, 
 
 K 
 
 \ 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 When tlK> suiniiier Inr? f i i • ' 
 
 «■«h her dancinçj.mastér who r ^^J-'»» had^un away 
 
 long tune, for Willia,,, nennérVfe^ ' sensation làsted a 
 "f In^Krief ;,b„t bv a„, byl fatd ""'," """«'ant reminder 
 
 XTt tî' '" .sh„.t, pec^.é^^tt1î'- ^;-fe^^ 
 
 ■J>el.or„hdidnotrto,eXfcr /" ""■""' "' "■"' «>at Miss 
 j-eaUy could^carcely blan,e h^'-'I" hiî'";7<;* Sirl. "She ' 
 fhLs^sgraeefuI affair inZflî S"'^"^ "^ "^h I^iL_after 
 
 ngXSn^ ^^r:^tifS^i»;<«-^^itHtppi: 
 ■ The e.ir ! Ah, she uever eS h» ' ^^. '"'' '» himielf. 
 Lave discoverod his eonten^^e ^lu.t™'' •'™ • ^-^ ""Mst 
 
 va 
 
 \\ 
 
 ■.^1^ 
 
 
t 
 
 ^02 
 
 JOftN WAI£D, J-it^cilER. 
 
 not hâve .. instan^Z.tS,'L ut ::^'"^ '^•- "'^^ ^'-''<' 
 
 ^^^^^^au:^:stJ^ti:i '''f '^^''"-t^'i; but iL 
 
 inoa sensé, « A,s sh.; is urili'lm 1 ' l.T l ^^^l'I^iou of coui- 
 
 Jielped to keep him at his pdst ''''' r husba,„I, 
 
 Butit-niight hâve heen cro[n\ ùAn.V . , 
 
 tion. She vvas gnnvin! ever d v ^^ '""^Z"- "^ ^'«'- P^^^^ 
 
 ZrbelT»r;i7Shri^^^ '»°'- '«-ly ami s 
 
 «f lifo; she becan'etâped^u TL-!;r;'î"^ values 
 
 would ,,ave bee„ impo" ible be t ^fc'?'','' "^'^^ "'"'^h 
 sessed the love of her nnn). , ' '^^^'^ «"e had never nos- 
 
 check^in au unexpected way ' ' ^:'"''""^. ^''-^^"^'^ ^al 
 
 had been^^ateri down by the rain onH '"^ ^^^'^^ g^-^ss 
 
 gi'aves;-h%nçlthere a frost^weed «^''l ^^tted above the 
 against th'èT|^tfi|.gK„ .^'^f, '^^«^ f «od straight and thiu 
 
 iSI^K r^'^^^fters, and a si»'' 
 
 glestalk qÛ 
 
 covered ^mmmïthe reltWV^ ^t beside the linchen- 
 lowand gray.%H* s«t ^nt ^ '^°''^^ ^^s a blur of yel- 
 . ^*^^^^'^'^^^«^«onastone,andIistenedt,o^he 
 
 i4.' , • . * 
 
 
 
m- 
 
 w 
 
 £4 
 
 % 
 
 
 .V, 
 
 .4 
 
 JOHX WAKD, PltEAUHBR. 
 
 .ingaf 
 
 „ 303 
 
 J^^^ancKTuftS'ï'f.-'l'oughshewtaW hâve claspe,, 
 Air. l)a e t„ucl,.d h,.,- sl,6ul,le,- .«.th- ■• v„. 
 ,^Hele#6_ assent was i.ldTbS™ '"'"': ^' " '''"''^' *""e,". 
 
 you botl,, by wh.cl, his love ;, niv 'f'^ïr *''<= ^"«"«ing for 
 
 ?f Ijfe as [ bave, it is n,„oh t„ h. * ''™"' «" "«ar the end 
 
 »'o the mysteries ofT^lX^^ZTT" ]"'"■ «'« '«^ ' ' 
 
 notall grief, H ê„. tôt w"/ ""'""^ ""derst.H.d it ' 
 ^ «net apeak , she clu«g,to him ih'.paaàion ol te««^ 
 
 — ^ .... . ■ . . » 
 
 » 
 
 »-'"-«« -^ 
 
 
 v,!> 
 
304 
 
 JOXH AVARD, PKEACHER. 
 
 we hâve oerhan^ Im-o î ?. " . y' , patient, because 
 
 aj uuaei stand him. 1 ou see what I mean ? " 
 
 ^ho ^; i / ,^' ®"^ ^^^^ brokenly,^" oh I will trv r 
 
 tlie vacant olnir il !{n i ^^.^of^omehow slipped i„to 
 
 flûoiir ■*°°'"-'' ">^'™««o'' «as ikemed super- 
 
 By degrees, Lois ajid Helen came nearer toffPth»r ti 
 
 with MrTi J iï ", ""'''^'*«' "■" ■' "as a relief to te 
 
 «ïto shape . tliese^ twenty years. She liked the sfilS 
 
 
w:fW^^wmF^w 
 
 JOH.V ^YA1W, PItEACH£jR. 
 
 cil- ^"C 
 
 Mrs. I )ale raréh- Z,„?l i TÛ '"'"''*' f™" "'« «replace ■ 
 
 '"""""H. "l'm .,„,„ ,.,„ h1 ï;,,,'' ? '""'• ?r ««W January 
 , '«we sensible a,„l ,.|,„,ri„l ir -, ?" "'"'^<' ""s «Si-eât deal 
 
 **e„ ..,„r„;,! ri,n.-"' 'f '-i--'. witi, a g„oj. 
 
 '"S «lasses on aiu lUÀ ri, 'hey ve gro«n." «e „„,; 
 
 al»o,b«I luok. Tl e. ixi ;i,t"l" ,? f"'""'"» "'<^™. w M,^à 
 'f I streaks of wb fe ,^ ,,,'"' ''<^''' ' "^ «ix spinclli ,g hooto 
 ' «fk and hard wiTl, S 1^1""''' "? '"'''■'• '•"'-' "'«"e^uth wa^ 
 JWe-s anxious caré «, m- S 'f! 'f "»'«'■ ""'' which Mr 
 
 «ouHsh ir,:n™:^,;;;//;'';î,j:;'^'''--vi..g. ■• i-n, sm-oTb";; 
 
 be^'im to show in the L>n /^'^^^ ''''"^ ^'"te threads haH 
 «he continuée! " t i^ so ZT^7'" ''^''^' «^ ^er hâ'r 'Yes - 
 
 Mr. Paie sf ' - "' 
 
 i^-^^À*^'V^' t ^■■in'È^'àÈ}:^ i^Éd 
 
 qu'et life, HeJen ? C, J"» ''""'^■' '7 'be discipline of this 
 Jt you rouse us „„t of our LC ° -T "^ ''""S «omethin! 
 
 ., V .. I . • ^ Know that cânnot hft 
 
306 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 She did not speak. , 
 
 " You sie/' he went on, in lus gentle voice, "your life can- 
 not be nega ive anywhe^. You bave taken a stand for a 
 vital principle, and it mtfst make us better. Truth is Hke 
 beat or hght; its vibrations are endless, and are endlessly 
 felt. Ihere is sometbmg very beautiful to me, Helen speak- 
 mg of truth, that you and your husband, from absolu elyop- 
 positeand ex reme points, bave yet tins force of truth in your 
 sot^ls. \ ou bave both toucbed tbe principle of life -he 
 ^ of ^^d^S ''-'^ ''' "^^^- ^"^ ^- ^-^^ ^-^ ^'e 
 
 "You know" she said gratefully, "you understand "_ ^i^'^ 
 She stopped.abruptly, for she «aw Lois cominc hurriedlv ' "^^ 
 along tbe road and when she opened tbe gâte she ran acros^ 
 the snowy lawn to ^îr. -JJale's office, instead of folCngX 
 
 Ltt sta^iutiîr """^'"^' ^" ''' ^^^^ ^^^^-^ mada-Helen's 
 
 ba'eta«' :lrLf '" '' '''''''' ''^ '^^^' '^' ^^"^ -t 
 
 bliî;^'' c'^wA'i ^''""^-f between her owu, which uere trem- 
 yoiS! Heltii^' ' '' ' ^''^'''*'- ^-^ ^""'^ ''' bnng it to 
 
 Her cousin put ont her band for the tele<^rani 
 " l'm afraid John is ill." Lois said, the qdck "lears sprint- 
 mg to her eyes. r^"'n 
 
 " Give it to me," said Helen. 
 
 Heluctantly Lois gave her the dispatch, but she scarcelv 
 
 ooked at it. Une e Henry," she suid, h>r Mr. Dale hadtbf. 
 
 lowed lier and stood m speechless symp.tliy, bis wbite hair 
 
 blowing about in tbe ke^i wind, " / wd! o^' to UercTr now 
 
 I can make the tram. Will you let m. bave your carriageT» 
 
 Her yoice was so, fiim and lier man.ier .-o calm Lois wa^, 
 
 thouglft "^^' ^''' ""' understand how ill John is!^ Z 
 
 -,^ — '^ ^x.v... i^g iMigx^ xiuw Aove s no r ror ^ death 
 
 =W^W^mrimianhings/'Te said, as he sat aloS ^ 
 
 study that night,-" time, hope, fear, even grief itself ' 
 ±lis wite did not enter into such analysis : she had been 
 
 Bummoned, aad had seen to wraps and Joney Z p^tS 
 
 -Afc»S!!»>...L..'.ï4;i>?ï'. 
 
 ^^-^j^.f 
 
 jfi&ù^âf-'Ulh.i 
 
sioiisftess, but 
 
 ut wéut out 
 
 were trem- 
 
 ■ *. 
 
 ■$ 
 
 JOHN WAKD^KKACHEIL . "^. 
 
 ^" o the d^staHce, and a tense eâii .1 ^'^''' ^^^« «^'•a"»"^' 
 
 ont Helen did uot answer H„f / , , ^^«^s asked sbftiv • 
 ^o». and then sl.e tu • Ld w H ' ^^^ ''^'^'^^ ^he quei' 
 ^akeued, aud looked at her ' '''" '''''' '^ «"e sudclenlv 
 
 ^ii, you are Jiere ?" <,she s-nM - v 
 
 ^^'h^ wIIh'^^" •^-•^^-^!- MeS; r-,^-l to cou.e, 
 ^ 'rtt c le windovv besde FniQ «roo V^^* J-'ien she noticprl 
 
 «''e^Lt?t^™fido^o;•I,rr^ ".'^■^" ««^^«^ k„ew 
 
 "■',!--- 1 -ici, ^r«l;„S,,'Cyo„^".''"'^""-ouId „ot col' 
 
 the parsonage, that this had bien tT' It^i'^'' ^"^«^^' ride ta 
 John had not ralJied • b, fil ^^ ^^^^^ J^eniorrhacm 1,<Î 
 
 -^entTor fiis wife. "*" "^^^^a^ aad near, and had 
 
 ^luV^'^y and death! "' '^'^™ " <Jf««« ; hère 
 
 AIi^tU«>uidnoe^ea..3Ke.et«.e.at.hega^but i 
 
^tt 
 
 'iif' 
 
 ■% bsT^nT'!'*»-^ 
 
 ■'■wf«t.'f"*yî 
 
 308 
 
 JOHN WABD, PEEACHEH. 
 
 ■■r 
 
 in the hait and took oV tr„L' d"^^^^^^^^^ 
 I will go aud tell him you are hère ''r^4. a -^ 
 
 vant statr^nte ™?,;^'""^- *"'' '"'' «»»' -'" '»« se,- 
 
 to 'l^^h*'sr„K\r rctft°h ', "'"^*'^-<' - -' 
 
 sirengtl, and love • """ '"'"'""S ^ ''l'« was ail 
 
 sha™"""" *"^ "«'■'^'^ ™'y ^y «-e «re, and .l,e bed wa, i„ 
 
 «JX ™rto"hV:^î'he'rhr'^Y'- ''^,"'"' --^ -- 
 
 crèpt up to the door ffill IJI • ^S"'",»"'' "Sai" GiBbrd 
 thatsotïsoundwSamothr,,,?. " f'"','"'^'' '« heard. 
 baby on l.er breast ,nd »^!- , ^*'' "''"^" ^'>o «oothes liei 
 
 nZ IVinorloÎS^e t^tiSf "1^ \".^'i -^-- aixietylest 
 
 by John's serene courai 'Hp / ^^^^ ^«^«foited 
 
 there was an exultan?fook EhtZ'^'^' '^"^^ ^^«"«^r, but 
 his lipsrr.oved m gïa e p "^ /fe^^^^ 
 tremityliaddulIedhisfear^fn^K- •V>î^^^'' physical ex- 
 Viction that his deafh was to hp t' ""f' ''^""^^°" "^^o a con- . 
 her. He was bewUderld at t^P . !'T '^ ^'^'' Pl«"« f'^^' 
 the prospect of her pr^^^^^^^^ th' "^5f ^? '! ^'^^'^^ J«y '^t. 
 save her soûl alive ^ But he n^v" ^f^^'"^^" ^^^^^ P°^ «hould 
 she would corne to tell h m ^hp h Vï' °".' "^^"^^"^ ^«"l^^ed 
 
 The night wore heavily r r^^^^ '^f '^'' ^''^^''^ 
 the stairs outside t^Lr ,^f^'^'^^''^^^<^ ^nm.elî upon 
 quietly down to Johr^s st"d^ Tf ' T'' ^'''^ '^'"'^ ^^^"t 
 awayJhetime. A^mL^^rhe^^al^"^ '^ '^''^ ^'^ ^^^'^^^ 
 
 £IJTI^ the 
 
 ford'sshoulder ..jra;rest;^^^^ 
 
 to 8it hère a«y loDger. John 4 dead? ' 
 
 theie is no need 
 
 ia^-W-t.^, 
 
 ^^."ik. 
 
 '"''■\^ h 
 
rîT 
 
 land. ' Theie 
 d atthe table 
 
 S£|id, tiyii% 
 
 ai)d the sei- 
 
 led no need 
 she was ail 
 
 bed 
 
 was 111 
 
 arms were 
 
 her heart. 
 ;aiil Giffoid 
 ? he heard 
 soothes hei 
 
 1 diçdaway 
 
 inxietylest 
 T the sor- 
 comforted 
 is near, but 
 soinetimes 
 lysical ex- 
 iuto a cou- • 
 s plans for 
 ter joy at 
 od should 
 t doubted 
 
 iself upoii 
 
 then weiit 
 
 to while 
 
 y, and tlie 
 ise^, Heien^ 
 ipon Gif- 
 3 no need 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER, 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXI. 
 
 30î) 
 
 - "••¥ 
 
 fc>\ 
 
 eannot go yet." '''^^'^- ^^'^J are John's people r 
 
 f inen vvhoCeome t'Thel "'^ ^^hort^tioaa of the cler 
 'Jered how Kplar^T u ^"^ ^^"^ral fco officiafP ^,"*^ ^^6^" 
 
 b ave sad eyes upon her she rf J? ' ■'"'Vf '* her cousia's 
 
 He oni, sai/w'hr Kî ^"l^^id''^ '^'T ^ '- -IL 
 anci lookmg at her, 'his gentfe oW' fi =■ ''*'' '""(ds in his 
 
 £iif eS a^itti2,::;\xwp '---^«. ^** 
 
 tared ;« ly '?. ■,"""'' ''Wier for him „ow " Giff ^ ' 
 +!,• ' ^^^^^ answered wearilv ". 
 
•■s' "y* 
 
 310 
 
 JOIfN WARD, PREACHER 
 
 1 . 
 m ' 
 
 ont aifthey ^^^emS ;fl of/latf di' "'"st"' , '" T"'" 
 to the door S„ v^ e^ tl^!! '" ^'^ ''T'-^^f' '"^ <«»»ei 
 
 at th ' h^e^ ":.:^^3hr w cr' r""' ™'^ "^^ -^-'^ " 
 
 greatest grief. °"" ''*'' 8''^"'««t W .lud 
 
 only twelve mies frlJl ? ^u'^™'ïï<=™'« Merce,- was 
 sonietimês. GiffoTtold hTmd^? h ^ .?"^1!'* "' ^<^'"g h« 
 
 S^J^T^r" -" "*' ""'"'^ "ttached ti that 
 
 •1 
 
',^/- > ^'O 
 
 A 
 
 !• I 'cnnifot 
 
 thou<^ht lie 
 
 8 eiuled. I 
 
 ary dotail of 
 a or Giffbrd 
 bli to Write 
 ! dared; jiot 
 e ôblitemt- 
 y and bye, , 
 iiietly weiit 
 low-brovvell 
 ard left lieè 
 :ftd lie caiiiei 
 lie met hini^ 
 Rty in his \ 
 
 I(» not daie > 
 
 look back 
 ' joy and 
 
 n (Jifïbrd • '^ 
 
 A 
 
 ôf. »roiiu 
 
 ! did not 
 
 niade no 
 
 î u-a* au 
 
 cer. This 
 
 Ashurst 
 
 shadows" 
 rcei- was 
 lat could 
 îing her 
 searehed^ 
 tliat she 
 slightest 
 ^ it. She 
 to that 
 
 \ 
 
 '.- ''-{- 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 'oit 
 
 tbe rectory everv «im/io,, ^"'".^^ "»at he should dron in nf 
 after Dr. Lw:^^!.^^^^^ ^T"^«- ^^^'"«V 
 ,; Helen never went <a ea„not'' 7 "''j' / 
 
 'tlie service is beautifnl «nT ... ^^^ ®^^^ ^^ Gifford jrfnce • 
 -eiatiens but ft i^'^d^^Vr^^^^^^ 1 plea/t"l' 
 
 eirsely religions, it woîddbe diffère nf T ^ ^^^ "^«r««° i»- 
 
 • eare for it as a sacred past bu i^w ' ^ «"PP^««./r should 
 
 • ft. What I called n^piritu.] I ^''^"T^' '"««•^^an.plea.^H 
 And now, surely, I ca^Lt^; f ^In T tt "' TÎ!^^ ^^ ^^' 
 
 I thnik you wiU ao sL^^T ^ ^^"^f "«>'th at ail." 
 loughtfully; nhependuIuriiasT; ^'^Y ^'^'^''^ «^^^ 
 
 • t^om the extrême which ZiW^^^^^^ far away 
 
 ance comes. And I think you mnv! ^T"? ^heperfect bal- 
 
 Jou hâve no faith. P« hap^vo^f «ystake when you say 
 
 2^-Jome.isnotthehd^^^^^ but fLh, i^ 
 
 P/y opennessandreadinessof hearrt&^''^^^^^^^ it is sim. 
 < ^od may show." neart W belie ve any truth which 
 
 »s the n,oon roae, and theCZh !S^ ' '"'" "■««■Wi-glight 
 the hills. Helen had a soft >S ' ""'*''' ^'"'«i behind 
 
 hnd ve^- greatly cared. «""^h «ubjecte ; perhaps no one 
 
 . t^ 'fford I" she eaid «i. ddenlv B^4™, ^ 
 
 ' Yes, Helen ?" 
 se.;er^>'"""' "I-*you— «happyaa ,•„„ de- ■ ' 
 
«Ê» ■<• 
 
 312 
 
 ^:-^;%, 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 5eT£^ve" ' '""^' P^^'^^P^' but no doubt l'm as happy as I 
 
 "•akes life possible is Tov" 1^^^ ;.. 1' ""Il *'"« which* 
 
 , î»em•sS£^"exf pUh:'"io'^ '7 '"'■" ï^ ^-'-^^ "fer a mo-. 
 
 squai-e of liaht whieh fpnT f.'^^^"^- '-^"3 Vcrossini the 
 
 which to build noble thinas ' vf f«"lîdation st5ite ou- 
 
 into a whole palace ofbeautv C'-^"'^' "\'^' ^^ «P"% ^^P 
 the air! You know u- wT ' l>ut it is in the air,-lit jV iii 
 
 once. And it is curions Heîen ï."'"^'' ''"^^' ^^^^«8 ^Oved 
 way l'm content she s ouM r 't S " " 1 f'^'" paradoVical 
 she is. if she could love twice "' '"^^ ""^ ^^ ^''^ ^^^n 
 
 Helen sniiled in the darkness. " Gifford " .i , ' 
 ^ut he mterrunfpH h^». a- • • ,'."^^<i — she bengali. 
 
 don'tyou%ee? I wi Lr^e me hV' T"'?.''^" bo?„. 
 
 you ca„ do is to kiH any ho^lhe ;St A 1''''''''?'' î'"''« 
 There was a time I wa^ fnni « instant it shows its head. 
 
 letiers there ^as no chance for nî^ » ^"' ' '"''» "^^ &»"• her 
 
 ..|^r,-tè said son. 
 
 uori^?ltrto%ïfs^ï,rat^^^^^ 
 yonr ioj, for my own S" ''^ ""^ happiness of 
 
 a«dXS Wres«r S'iï: 'r'' '"'"I"^ » "is heel. 
 

 ' happy as l 
 
 oh, Gifîbra, 
 thing which 
 '. only tliiii^r 
 
 after a nio-' 
 
 >ace u|) and 
 Tossin^- the 
 I oiinrht 
 it atowii at 
 n stoiie ou- 
 b spriiijK iip 
 r,— it 1^, iu 
 •s he giVing 
 avingjqved 
 paradoyical 
 the wo^rnaii 
 
 îegsu'i. 
 , in iinpa- 
 me been, 
 dest thiiig 
 î its liead. 
 was just 
 ' from her 
 
 ' J^is, in 
 mt. They 
 
 id sonie- 
 
 y." " l've 
 îould not 
 md tbei;a^==^=:= 
 )iness of 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREA(ÏHER 
 
 his lieel. 
 unbear- 
 /Helen. 
 
 313 
 
 I do not understand it ail h,,^ m .. 
 
 you see, it does n't make a^v ?i' "' "^^"^^■- Only, don't 
 
 going to care, I shouW tve ënownTn '' " ^^ '^' '^'^ '-' 
 
 i^his was verv varmp f!; u r!l^^^ ^^ ^«"g ago." 
 j:e/used him aga^in ^^T,f «/tl''^« ^o^u\e?.d if Lois had 
 
 /feinMereerrandshecidn^Tv.r^^ ^^^k quietl/of Ws 
 After ail, they n.ust v ork out h"'' '' '^^^^ ^»>^thing rno7e 
 .^-'-ooneeanbelp^,--^ 
 
 of ^:l^:^;'Z^^:fy^ '- ^^^«'-^^ ^^I. was «peakin... 
 
 aunts, now; and I believe Vh ? '"^V-""'' ^^' ^^«y froni Tm 
 eharacter can came from thpf '^'' ^"-^^«^ Jevelopnier t of" 
 
 Ashurst vvere her necessity ? For "ai n ' ^«mmonplace of 
 ^ei place in tlie world— tL rfi ?f "^ ^'^^ '^'^^ searchincr for 
 to give her the happ „ess of ?!f'f' ^'^^ "^«^'^^ ^^r, and was 
 •thought vaguely tS ïe ,lh,^^^^^^^^^^^ and sh^4ad even 
 ven, aniong John's peonlp n Cvî ? ^"'"^ ^^rk în Loekha 
 thesdenceof their'own tSfht 'n'. V''^ ''''^ ^^^'^^tô 
 -lau|hter can.e back frori S a'nï rJ^'^', ^'^^^«^ ^^^'w' 
 
 That next week was a thou^h 'f,?i ^^\'^ ^^^"^^ ^onie. 
 iiouse ; Helen's words hari I"^ "l''"'' ^'^^^ Giffoi-d Wood 
 -as hard to settle ba k ntfa bfe o^^' '""^^ ^^P^' ^^^ t 
 stFano^ly absent-minded in hl ;^ ^ renunciation. He was 
 îïer, who had corne to SLl l ^'?' ^"^ ^ay Willie Den 
 «Ierk,foundhimrarinroli!-^:j;^"'^. ^^ ^^^^^^^ to be hïs 
 papers lyi„g untouche^d ftf him "''4^. "^*^,^ "^- ^^^^nt' 
 't''"^^ it be wrong, would iffr. n ;^^^^' ^^^' he thouaht 
 should never trouble her) if il ' ^^ <^' ^^^ said^he 
 thoiight of her helped him \ , ^^^^ told her how th^ 
 jation in his life 2^ » j^/^^^^^^^^ f'J wasa continuai Tnspi! 
 he argued. ^ ««^«^ ^^ bothered her, I could stop " i 
 
 hearts' content, but wa^'f?«?'^^^ ^"«««^ over to thS^ 
 
 fûi^f i.^".Vto church with them 5 ^^""^ "^^"^^"S ^e duti- 
 
 for the JMisaes Woodhouse ea^i, .î?^*^ ^^ « P«>ucl day 
 
 ^^^^^■- ^' ®*^h took an arm of the young 
 
âi4 
 
 JOHN WARD. PREACREÇ) 
 
 feces ef less fortunate famiS i/A.h ^.^^'''Vl^P^^^^ i» ^hè 
 a«other youn- maii ' "^'^'^^ ^''"^^ «ot boast of 
 
 removed its.wrannf,, ,.*'/■ "" b'ndbox and carefi llv * 
 
 safe to «ear it. ■ "^■- ^^^""^ "^e decided that it »^. 
 
 chSJ![:l'd°tt^tr'siT-r"''^^-''-- — '^' 
 
 iooked ? V ■'^ ™' ''""' '^""'laj'. hWw iH poor litti; Loi,. , ■ 
 
 "Ah' "i?"''"'','^;''"'"" ■''""•'l'A 
 white a.a4™ÏÏ" " Tt '""''""g h^-- ■'''«dé that the ■ 
 
 Wdf;:' ''"^ *^^"°^ «>g»ged to hi,,.," r;,po„ded Gifibrd 
 
 ex;SdTô'bT''L'dTl,fo:'r"\'^™"'''l. "b«t.,he f„My ' ■- 
 rfoubt of that. ButltvlZT ^"' ^"""^^h-, there is no „ • 
 •' How do you know that ? dl "'^^7»"*"'% Ws." 
 "Wl'y. my dearTl, !.■ ^?",°-".d«d her nephew. 
 doubt o/it, idet )at to'ld iL^Ù'l ' «V"'' " ">™ '« "o ' 
 Qf conrse she had it "romlois '■ ^^°'^'' "'<' ^''°'« «'"'y- 
 
 «^^rdlS 
 
 "en ^f it dL n„t's:iJ;r Jl;rhj..r- ''^'-' -» !■" telî 
 
 the d„:;. fnrw'hiîéT.a taired 1 ^h"™" ^-'P '""'"* 
 something to say to the ici 'il '"^ "'« /unts, who had 
 
 corne for her husband's sake'' Even T. '°, """ '""'''■»''* 
 had not madeMra. Me palu jZ W^d^'"^ "' "'"* 
 
 > ^ ' ' '\' ' 
 
 r. iï*^ J ,. .J-. i y «■•^'. .. 
 
 /^ 
 

 ^alked in a * 
 ^o\M gladly 
 would hâve 
 iphew in thè 
 itot boast of 
 
 ohgr of Jîîs 
 id carefuljy #» 
 IX ions ly a& 
 nd pincftê^ 
 
 hat it W4i||- 
 
 V near th^' . „ 
 dear," she 
 little Lois 
 
 ► that the 
 f'over that 
 
 d Gifford 
 
 she fully 
 ^lere is no „ 
 his." 
 
 ^. ■ 
 
 le is no 
 
 oie story. , 
 
 )osition/' 
 )f it, and . 
 w of the 
 l'il teU 
 
 p about 
 ^ho had 
 ï. l)ale 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. , 
 
 .». 1 1- 
 
 *=^ 
 
 n 18 n't 
 t, she'd 
 ' death 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ?ht., Hr riK;. 1 "■?■ ''".'."' «ourse GittmH .«T^, fl. , ^"V 
 
 Slonea about the ÙIZ ''"T".8'«"»'' dew. The môr!f 
 toward the east, «t"thr«hC^';f , «*"« '"eno^rC 
 
 ^^ rairc^-ï V?-- -"^unf"!! fr 
 
 -tint he 6nt t; f ^^''■'"^' ^' -" ' "' °' J ' "" 
 
w.*»- 
 
 ''^":tî."' V--*!*'?'''?'^' 
 
 316 
 
 „w4 
 
 krt ,■■■■■ 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 neck as he climbed Eist Hill, and Giffonl tunied. witl» one^ 
 handon tlie bays brokd flaiiU' to. look down at Ashurst. 
 The vaJley was stil full o/ mist, tlmt Huehed and tmmbled 
 
 . luto gold befcjre it disapjieared at.the touoh of the sun. There 
 was ar flutter of birda' wiWs in the buslies aloug the road, and 
 the light wmd niade the birch leaves «ickel-and dance: but 
 there was hardJy andther Isound. for his liorse walked deliber- 
 
 jtely in the grass beside tk road, urïtirsuddenly a dog barked. 
 
 Oiftord drew his réîn shar^ly. " That was Max r' he said, and 
 ooked-about for lum evleii rising a'iittle in his stinups. 
 i^How fond she is of the o d fellow 1" lie thou^ht * 
 
 In another moment, the dog ran across théT road, his red 
 
 coat marked with dew ; th^ the bushes weie piished asiae, ^ 
 
 4ind his mistress followed lik. ^ ■ 
 
 ;; Why, Gifford r she sail - ' '-^ , ' 
 
 " Wèy, Lois !" he exclaimed with her, and then thev 
 
 looked at each other. l ' > 
 
 The young man . threw dway his cigarette, and, 'springing 
 
 irom his horse, slipped the reins ovér liis arm, and walked 
 
 •oeside lier. ^.f 
 
 ''Ave yo\i going^way ?" Lots ^ked. ', JUit ft is so early !" 
 ^ bhe had her little basket in her hand, and she was holding, 
 •her blue print gown up ovbr a wjiite petticoat, to keep i't 
 froin the wet grass. • Her brdad hat was on the back ôf lier 
 head, and the wmd had blowji the curîs aroûnd her face into 
 a sunny tangle and ma^e hèrcheeks as fiesh as a'wild-*rose. 
 sniilin*^ ^^^ ^^^^^ oue, it ^s.eems to me," he answered, 
 
 << " l've^come to get mushiooms foP father," she explained. ' 
 
 It is best to get them early.. while the dew is on them. 
 Ihere are a good many around that little old ruiu further up 
 the road, y©u know." ' ^ 
 
 . " ^f ' / ^'''''^" ^^ ^^^- ' ^He felt himself suddenly in a 
 tumult of uncertamty. •' It would be no harm iust to V a 
 Word,- hethought. " Why shouldn't she know^no maTter 
 if she can never care herself-that I care ? It would not 
 troubl e her. m J^ a- m jiiool t o thiW^ of it,— I w o u' l /^ 
 
 "*' ^^^ itis so èarly for 70^^© be outatone;' hé said. " Do 
 you take care of her, Max ?" T \ 
 
 " M^x ho. most constant friend," Lois replied ; '\e never 
 16^63 me.? .Then she blushed, lest GiffoVd should Siink 
 tùat sue had thought he was not constant. 
 
 ,/■ 
 
 .%/ 
 
JOHN WARD, PREACHER 
 
 •SIT 
 
 ^':^^C-r^ z:, ^î^M*-!»-"- wuu 
 
 that the innerraost receaae, nf h!» '"""'^'l"''. ""«i fearinf- 
 fn>m a calm and indlttereTt fat^ - '"'"" '"'«'" ''^ «""^««3 
 
 ^<^^n^t "" s™ ;;' ,s;l„'°" ^^'-^^ "•' ""'^- ^-- -- 
 
 heartV' '•"■shroou.s grow right in on the 
 
 -round it, and ml" 2 baok to wnr'- «^'^ '"" »"'' ""«k 
 
 fou„,latio„ aud iMenltXl^f"'^ ,"T "'« ''™l'«» 
 roomJ, had onened thèir IM„ ,î ^^ "i'^'"'''- ™« ">"«'•- 
 Lofe hW sMd on the vorvh»»1r'ï^ 'l'"^" «mbrellas, as 
 
 From èl..bushêsat'^o,esid" o,me>hJ If "' '^^^ S^^' 
 white ; Max p,ickod7,i' eal^ """" H""^'''" "«t":*? a b„b- / 
 
 ««^'''ll^^tt'tte;,' f rs'-,r''i'' •«"■»" Wn.selftha.ihe 
 
 fron, sentiment^sol Mblie witft m" ''".'"Tf"''''''' ^'' "*« 
 the bob.«hite, t Jouldi^t Til^irf' ""'' "'<' ^°^- «"«' 
 
 -'>i^^^ftt:X^-^:^- - fnU, a„d 
 
 J.eek and I.isCnStre"bowr<: th" X "^"'"-^''^'^ 
 mist hSl Qujte .'niVcTT, "r:^?"'™ 'ur niin (,o speak, The 
 
 goin,, to bother herS^J"ll",ÇPr.1 ('■S»''''" think Pm 
 
- *:rA?;' 
 
 318 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHEK. 
 
 sure 1 11 be glad to hear anytliing that rnakes you haoDv " 
 Her voiae had a dull soun.I in her own ears ^^^^ 
 rteien put it mto mv head tn rpll vnn " mte a 
 
 GiffordT ' ^ "*" "•""*' '*"*■■« '« ''<»■ youto keep 
 
 Voice""" ' " ^"' •'''«'"""•«l. with a sfcart, and a thtiU iu her 
 
 " But I am sure," he said hurriedlv " it won't „,oi.„ 
 i.te and that it a^ways wiU be, and that love, no matter if '^ 
 
 p^i-^li^-f^-ouK-no., I wa. to-don't, yon'rL^.^heLînT 
 
 of the mornmg and the surprise, and Nature herseS ^^ ' 
 And to thmk that it is I I " Lois said a minute afterward 
 
 B^fl^^^'^tT^^-i' ^^^ "' «"«d G^ilford rapturousTy 
 But Lois shook her head ; even in \er iov she w». 
 ashamed ot herself " T wnnV ^^fr... 1 " . . ^^ 
 
 tftougM . ^" ^ ^^^'" -rom e mb ef -it ^ -^hc 
 
 i8hed rZ othir r/' r?^' «^Planations. ' Each was askm- 
 
JOHN WARD, PKEACHEIV 
 
 (M 
 
 J 
 
 ertainty to 
 ile of her " 
 ble. "l'm 
 lappy." 
 
 I weiit 011 
 t keepino- 
 
 't know of 
 
 II to keep 
 
 iois," he 
 
 ill in her 
 
 lake you 
 n in my 
 ter if "— 
 ning like 
 "I—I— 
 ber — my 
 
 pped the 
 ibling, 
 her face 
 lich had 
 did net 
 d kissed 
 lie bob- 
 nly part 
 
 erward. 
 lusiy. 
 le was 
 
 It wâsn't wrong," she siid « v 
 <ion't think it was wro„. ?" ^^ ^"" ''' ^ow it was,-yoa 
 
 ;,Ye3ldo;LoYheSuswered. 
 
 ^^^^^^ of her 
 
 youthink l'ni wrong prettToftL ' '"r^"^' " ^ou know 
 then they rnutually'tbr^ve Lf n?i' '^'^ ^^^^*^ «^yjy, and 
 
 always because I loved you "• ^''' ^"^^^^3^' " but it, was 
 
 , J-fn l said Lois. 
 
 «he stillhdd in wS ™'""^ "' ^''^ "«'^ baaket! wh%h • 
 
 oace," Giftbrd said, " and^h^ "^ ",""■ " ^' was a home 
 
 bgms over again for L'it: Td hT '"^^ ' ""^ »»^' 
 "te "'™> "na happmess, and ail of 
 
 from East HiU to the reetorx™ r'^ ^"''"' ^ '«"g 'o walfc 
 and tell Helen ; wè've ken7'r » '"''■ " ^°»' '«''« »» 
 
 {««herwo^P^elenUT "'"•" "«' "°"^». «"d>ithout 
 And so Helen Waivi'a ^ ^ * ' ' • • 
 

 ■:'-\J- 
 
 820 
 
 JOHN WARD, PREACHER. 
 
 home, Heleii would be necessary to her uncle, and to Ije 
 necessarywouldsaveherlifefrom hardness. There need be 
 no doubt of occupation how. When Mr. Dale heard the news 
 he said his congratulations were not only for Lois and Gifford' 
 but torHelen, and after that for Ashurst. 
 
 A genuine» Ashurst engagement was a great thing, and the 
 triends of the young people received it in their several wavs 
 :7r!.V . ^.'^^'^'*^ surprised, but disposed to make the best of'it 
 Ihis 18 always the vvay," he said, with his big, iolly lau^rhi 
 a man brmgs up his girls, an.i then, just as soSn as they -et 
 old enough to amount tosoniething and be a comfort to hîm 
 
 ' ?î™^i ^ °^^" ^^^^^^ ^^^"^ ^^^ ^^^"'ies theni off. What ? 
 Mmd now, Gifford, don't you go further away than Mercer !" 
 As for Mrs. Dale, she was delighted. « It is what I hâve 
 always wantec; it is the one thing l've tried to bring abouf 
 and if Lois wil^do as T tell her. and be guided by a wiser 
 head than herown, I hâve no doubt she will be very reason- 
 ably happy," -^ 
 
 " Does n't a won.an expect to be guided by her husband ?" 
 Mr. l>ale asked. - " - , 
 
 "When he has sensé enough," responded his wife sicrnifi- 
 eantly. '^ 
 
 Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth were greatly pleased " Of 
 course they ^re very young," said Miss Deborah. " but l'U 
 liave an eye to the housekeepiiig until Lois gets older. For- 
 tunately, they'll be so far away from dear Adèle, she cannot 
 interfère much. Even with the best intentions in the^orld 
 a girl s relations should n't raeddle.", 
 
 .u"^!îf/?r^"'''^^^^"''''^^ ^" love, sister," said Miss Uuth 
 ; thoughtfuUy. ^ 
 
 "Well, really, dear Ruth," replied her sister,!" you are 
 hardly capable of judging of that ; but you happen to be 
 right; they are as much attached as one can expect young' 
 people to be. ». r j & 
 
 _ — But^Misa..Eutlv^sbft8teod tlwtr-aigfafrbefore-h^ 
 wood dressing-table, its brass rings glimmering in the candle- 
 light, opened Mr. pemièr's daguerréotype, and, looking wist- 
 fuUy at the youthfuHftice behind the raisty, glass, said softly 
 M> herself, " Ah, ^vell, it's good to be younsi' ' 
 
 ,THE END. 
 
 '.: *A 
 
 /-""■;■*:'■: 
 
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 WCOWlKrKiîâ'^''' JOHN MAC/f»â 
 
 
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^ Cent». ' "'k , '" 
 
 fOUS PIRATE 
 
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